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Private Tuition (NC-17) Print

Written by Foofy

24 November 2004 | 9509 words

Title: Private Tuition
Author: Foofy (niceandfluffy@hotmail.com)
Rating: NC17
Pairings: Aragorn/Legolas/Faramir
Summary: Due to their positions of state, Aragorn and Faramir have little time to enjoy their relationship. Legolas decides that a bit of elven influence is needed.

**Cookie Challenge**
Original Cookie challenge: X is getting bored with the same old thing in bed. Wants to try something new out with Y, but needs some instructions. Z offers to help "teach" X some new things.
Bonus challenge: X/Y/Z at the same time.

The Library of Minas Tirith had many fine things to recommend it. It held many important scrolls, many of which that spoke of days past and treaties signed, of previous victories and subsequent mistakes. It was full of books, scrolls and parchments, of dust and the occasional fat mouse. And at this point in time it also contained the current Steward of Gondor, pouring over one of the said scrolls with a look of deep concentration gracing his features.

"Ah. There you are," the tone was light as it broke the silence of the library.

Faramir glanced up from his scroll and frowned slightly as though unable to recognise the figure who had managed to stand not more than three feet away without him noticing. Finally Faramir smiled grimly and turned back to the scroll in front of him.

"Legolas." The tone spoke of acknowledgement rather than welcome. Faramir knew all about Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood who had accompanied Aragorn during the Fellowship and fought beside him rather than being filled full of arrows and spending the war in the Houses of Healing as Faramir had. The old friend. The elf that Aragorn always spoke of fondly, even when recounting tales which certainly shouldn't have encouraged any sort of fondness at all.

Oh yes, he knew about Legolas. And now the bloody elf was standing in his library. It was enough to make you weep, if you were that way inclined.

"Am I interrupting?" the elf eyed the scroll impassively before surveying the young Steward. Faramir sighed, and shook his head.

"No. I believe I should have some type of break here anyway, before my eyes go odd." However, the reluctance in his voice was clear. The elf chose not to listen to this unwelcome tone, and merely raised an eyebrow in question at the scroll. Having interpreted this gesture easily, Faramir shook his head. "It's nothing interesting. Merely politics."

"Ah." Legolas nodded. The politics of man was a strange beast indeed, and often spent much of its time chasing after its own tail. Faramir tapped the wooden table with a finger, and sighed heavily again.

"Anyway. What can I help you with?" his blue-green gaze fell on the elf curiously. Legolas never tended to visit him, preferring the company of Aragorn or Gandalf, or indeed anyone else in the entire city of Minas Tirith. Apparently he wasn't interesting enough, or possibly that Aragorn had told Legolas in no uncertain terms to leave his part-time lover alone.

For part-time he was, indeed. Aragorn was married to a beautiful but aloof elven princess who seemed to be constantly busy. Faramir had never really worked out what she did, mind you. An elf was extremely difficult to follow, and it was definitely against the regulations of the Steward to spy on your own queen. Aragorn refused to discuss her, apart from the confirmation that Arwen had no issues with regards to their relationship, and in fact encouraged it. On the basis that sudden death failed to come to him, Faramir could only assume that this was indeed correct. Women were odd. Elves were odd. Logically it made sense that the oddest of the lot would be a she-elf.

Legolas settled himself on the edge of the table, and picked up a dog-eared book idly.

"I was sent to find you by Éomer. He is leaving shortly and wished to discuss the delivery of some mares to your stables to restock." Legolas was flicking through the book as he spoke, a slight frown crossing the elf's face as he scanned the paragraph in front of him. "What curious things you men write about. Was there nothing nice?"

"Nice things tend not to be important." Faramir had gone back to his scroll, despite having promised himself a break. His finger tapped slightly faster, a steady beat in the interior of the library. Legolas shook his head.

"Of course nice things are important. What would life be without its pleasures?" The elf flicked through a few more pages idly, ignoring with ease the frustrated look that passed over the Steward's face.

"Less complicated," replied Faramir dryly. "Anyway, thank you for the message. I will find Éomer before he leaves. I doubt whether he will go before the noon meal, knowing the power of his stomach on decisions."

Legolas nodded, still looking at the book and paying no heed to the exit he was expected to take. After a few moments he was aware of the steward's steady gaze on him, and looked innocently towards the young man.

"I'm sorry, am I disturbing you?" the elf asked.

The tone was just right. Faramir looked apologetic but his eyes failed to fully disguise the wariness and annoyance that the steward was currently holding in. Legolas was intrigued.

" No, I just assumed you'd have better things to do with your time than watch me work," the Gondorian replied. Legolas smiled beautifully.

"Ridiculous! We never seem to have any time to ourselves do we? It's nice to finally get a chance to talk to you without Aragorn interrupting." The elf looked even more curious, and leaned forward slightly. "I understand you have a very close relationship with the king?"

Faramir's wary expression increased ten-fold. Although his relationship with Aragorn was in no way a secret - it was never a good idea to keep secrets from women for a start - it was not exactly public knowledge. The Gondorian had actively kept away from the topic whenever he was with Aragorn's old colleagues, having a damn good idea that they would certainly not approve of such a union.

"We have an understanding," he allowed. Legolas smiled again.

" An understanding! Ah, the typical understatement. Unless Aragorn has been exaggerating in his claims?" the elf watched the man closely, and kept his smile under tight control as a flush rose to Faramir's face. The scroll was almost completely forgotten in the human's discomfort.

"What sort of claims has he been making?" managed Faramir with a sinking heart and wondering whether he would be able to look the rest of the council in the face again. If Aragorn wasn't the king of Gondor he would be having some serious words with him. And possibly some very rude ones as well.

Legolas shrugged lightly.

"Nothing in any detail. He was just happy with the current sleeping arrangements, shall we say, and even more so that Arwen approves," the elf had turned back to flicking through the book, as though hunting for pictures. Faramir narrowed his eyes briefly before turning them back to the scroll in front of him until Legolas' next question completely ruined his concentration.

"Are you happy with the sleeping arrangements?" the tone of Legolas' voice was nothing but friendly. However, Faramir wanted nothing more than to sink lower in his chair in defence. God, he hated talking about that sort of thing. He even had to leave the inns whenever the soldier's talk turned that way. Theirs was a relationship that benefited from not thinking about it too much, especially given the speed of their usual encounters. Cheetahs would be put to shame.

"I'm fine," he said shortly. Legolas abandoned the book to give him a thoughtful look. Faramir resisted the urge to sink even further. For a start, there was only so far he could sink without becoming a floor rug.

"Forgive me for saying so, Faramir," said the elf in consideration. "but you do not look like a man who is entirely relaxed. There is no problem between you and Aragorn?"

"No!" Faramir denied this hotly. A little too hotly. Legolas' interest grew.

"Nothing at all? Well, that is good news! So many couples have little differences, little demands that fail to be met," the elf shrugged lightly, and picked up a new book. This one did have a few pictures, but mostly of war techniques which were hardly interesting in the slightest.

He was aware of the human giving him another suspicious look out of the corner of his eye, although that was hardly unexpected. Faramir seemed to consist of either wariness or suspicion, depending on who he was with. It was only whilst travelling with his rangers that the man relaxed enough to be able for the personality to shine through. Equally, Faramir's opinion on Legolas seemed almost continually low. No doubt Legolas had Aragorn to thank for that. Aragorn never liked his lovers to meet up, and Legolas was almost definitely sure that the new King of Gondor had failed to mention to Faramir that previously his king had spent a large period of time doing unsuitable things with Legolas. No doubt Aragorn would maintain it was past history.

By the amount of time Faramir spent in the library, obviously history might be an interesting subject to him…

"Well, I'm not saying we're perfect." Faramir said finally, trying to ignore the topic by looking like he was focusing on the scroll. His finger tapped a little faster on the wooden table in his agitation. "There's always something slightly insufficient."

"Like what?" Legolas pressed. Faramir flushed again, and stared at the scroll harder.

"Small things. Stuff. That's all."

"He makes too many demands?" suggested Legolas, and was intrigued by Faramir's snort of amusement before the human managed to recover enough to regain his neutral expression. The elf cocked his head to one side, considering him. "So it is too few?"

Faramir gave him a stern look. Legolas, who had withstood his father's tempers, Lord Elrond's unyielding glares and the occasional thunderbolt from Gandalf, looked back without a flicker. The Gondorian looked like he was about to grind his teeth.

"Aragorn is completely fine when it comes to the bedroom," he said finally. Legolas looked polite.

"Only fine?" Obviously Aragorn had been slipping in his old age.

"What did you want instead?" Faramir finally burst out. "Song and dance? We know each other now, we have a routine, everything happens fine. Okay?"

Legolas stared at him sorrowfully. "A routine?" he echoed. "So every time you see each other you know exactly what's going to happen?" he shook his head sadly. "No, that should be for reports, not lovemaking."

Faramir managed to stop himself from growling his frustrations. "Welcome to my world, Legolas. What would you suggest I do?"

The elf was silent for a moment, simply studying the obviously agitated young man in front of him. Finally he sighed lightly, and closed the book to focus his attention on Faramir. His full attention. Faramir, who used to only be the centre of someone's attention if they were upset with him, resisted the urge to look away.

"I might have a few suggestions to make," Legolas said lightly. "Some techniques you might find useful."

The wary expression from Faramir was certainly interesting, the Gondorian looking as though Legolas was some sort of dangerous animal on his doorstep. Legolas raised an eyebrow and settled himself even more comfortably on the edge of the wooden table.

"If I spoke to Aragorn-" he began.

"No!" Faramir now looked panicked. "You can't tell him I've been speaking about this. Please!"

The elf looked back at him, then shook his head. "To be fair, you have been speaking very little about this," he said slightly pointedly. "but I understand your meaning."

"Promise me you won't say anything to him!" Faramir was some distance from actually pleading, but there were certain elements in his voice that were not a million miles away from it. Legolas hesitated in the face of such raw emotion.

"I will not say that we were discussing it," he said finally. Faramir almost sagged with relief. Legolas smiled to himself, and slid off the table gracefully, landing on the floor with no sound whatsoever. "I'm sorry, I am distracting you from your duty," his voice was completely apologetic. Faramir was too relieved even to respond to this.

Legolas slipped out the library in search of the partner in question.

"How do you spell unequivocally?" Aragorn was also busy with city work, frowning towards his parchment as though it contained the meaning of life itself. Legolas shrugged lightly.

"I don't. Aragorn, might I have a word?"

The king glanced up at him and smiled ruefully. "A word? Is this an actual word or is this simply a way to indicate you intend to talk to me at some length?" he frowned back down at the parchment and scribbled a few lines. Growling softly, he screwed the parchment up into a ball and threw it towards the window. It missed. Legolas idly walked towards it and recovered the paper.

"Some length, I suppose, for I had intended to continue past a single word." Legolas watched the king as he lounged back in his chair, only half a mind on the elf in front of him. The elf sighed to himself. Humans were so incredibly unfocused on occasion.

"It's about your sexual behaviour," he said in a much louder voice. Aragorn glanced up, startled, his quill dropping slightly before he got a hold of it and laid it down.

"My sexual behaviour?" he echoed in astonishment. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"If you don't know, then obviously you do need a lot of work," replied the elf, folding his arms. Aragorn studied him briefly then shook his head irritably.

"Legolas, I need to work. Discussions about my private life can wait, surely?" there was a brief look of concern cross his face. "Arwen didn't put you up to this did she?" he added cautiously. Legolas shook his head. Aragorn visibly relaxed.

"Thank the Valar for that," he murmured to himself and re-seized his quill. Legolas watched him for a few moments longer before coughing lightly. The quill paused mid-scratch. Aragorn sighed.


"How is your relationship with Faramir, Aragorn?"

Aragorn took the time to study the elf in full. His quill was carefully placed down again. The king wet his lips before speaking, and when he did speak it was careful, calm and relaxed. Too calm.

"Faramir?" Aragorn said it as though he didn't even recognise the name. Legolas rolled his eyes.

"Your steward. Your current play-thing in bed."

"Yes, I know who he is," snapped Aragorn. "And he's not my play- thing."

Legolas looked surprised, tossing the ball of paper in one hand and catching it smoothly, his eyes fixed on Aragorn. The king looked annoyed and guilty all at the same time. It was quite a feat.

"So you don't just pick him up when you feel like it? Just to rut out your frustrations and that's it?" Legolas cocked his head to one side. "It's hardly as though you hadn't done it before, Aragorn."

"That was different, I was younger and it's none of your business." Aragorn's expression was hard as mithril. Legolas continued, unabashed.

"So you take the time to make it special?" the elf continued. The king sighed heavily and pointedly.

"We're both busy men, Legolas, in case you hadn't noticed. When would we have time? We barely have enough time to sleep, let alone …," Aragorn made a gesture with his hand. Legolas watched him politely.

"Fuck?" he asked sweetly. He earned himself a glare from the king.

"I prefer the phrase `make love'," he replied coldly. Legolas smiled at him.

"I prefer a number of things, Aragorn. However, this does not mean I always get it." The elf tossed the paper ball again idly. His dark blue eyes surveyed Aragorn in interest. The king had given up all thought of writing the treaty and was merely watching him suspiciously, knowing that particular innocent look and what it was likely to lead to.

"Was there a point to your visit, Legolas?" Aragorn's voice was slightly pointed. Legolas smiled at his old friend in the manner that old friends and lovers could get away with, and tossed the ball again.

"Merely attempting to help, Aragorn."

"Would it be too much to ask if you didn't?" sighed Aragorn.

Legolas considered this, and smiled beautifully again.

"Yes," he said finally. "I think it might be."

The request had come from one of the larger merchants who often stopped at Minas Tirith, and it could not have come at a worst time. Faramir had finished his research after many many hours pouring over the scrolls and had managed to obtain both information and a large and painful headache. It throbbed behind his eyes, and hurt every time he moved his head to the extent that he wondered whether cutting it off might not hurt less.

The message itself had been delivered by Beregond just after Faramir had spoken with Éomer, the horse-lord giving his friend a cheerful grin before beginning his journey to Edoras. Faramir had raised an eyebrow at Beregond's very presence, having believed that the citadel guard had been off duty, but then again Beregond's duty to Gondor was so firmly ingrained Faramir doubted whether there was ever an 'off duty' period for the guard. His wife must be a long-suffering woman indeed.

"Why did you put him in these chambers?" he queried lightly as they walked the stairs leading to the chosen meeting room.

Beregond kept his eyes forward as he was wont to do. Occasionally Faramir had the urge to physically move the guard's head to face him himself, but always managed to resist. He knew only too well what it was like to prefer acting in a particular manner, and Beregond's style had indeed been safest whilst Faramir's father had been alive.

"He requested a comfortable place to discuss matters, sir," replied Beregond. "These were the best I could think of under the circumstances. I did not wish to interrupt the king, who is currently in the throne room."

Faramir nodded thoughtfully as they stepped up to the door. It was one of the more luxurious rooms that the Citadel had to offer, and, in keeping with this, the door that lead to it was solid and proud, with a lock that was almost decorative. Beregond opened the door and stepped aside in the corridor to allow the steward to enter.

Once he had entered the room, it took Faramir only a few moments to realise that the chamber had been altered in its furnishings and that there was distinctly no one else there. However, he was more concerned with the door shutting smartly behind him, the key turning in the lock as the Gondorian attempted to push it open.

"Beregond!!" Faramir aimed a kick at the door, which remained firmly closed. Let me out of here!"


Faramir growled in his throat and kicked the door again, harder. It refused to budge. He growled again and paced up and down beside it, staring at it thoughtfully. However, he knew damn well that door wasn't moving unless the key said so. The lock was almost as hefty as the walls themselves.

The ranger decided to give his slightly throbbing foot a break and simply prowled around the room, occasionally muttering to himself about pesky guards. He frowned at the décor. Someone had been busy indeed. Silken throws lay over the large wooden bed. Pillows and cushions had been piled near the headboard, forming what was almost a mountain of comfort. Candles had been placed around the room, their flickering lights casting an almost romantic glow.

Faramir narrowed his eyes, and finally perched himself on a comfortable chair which had been draped with a velvet blanket. His eyes found the bottles of wine that had been placed carefully in a corner, and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

If he was stuck here he might as well get drunk at the same time.

Aragorn was less easy to get into a room, mostly because his efficiency was so much less than Faramir's. Something always cropped up with the king, and such things were almost always incredibly important to someone. Legolas merely awaited Aragorn's exit from his chambers and caught hold of his arm as he passed.

The King stared at him in bewilderment, although recovering remarkably quickly. He glanced along the empty corridor then back at the elf as though expecting Legolas to be a figment of his imagination.

"Legolas? I thought you were already at the evening meal,"

Legolas shook his head decisively. "Something has cropped up," he replied, a serious note entering his voice. Aragorn stared at him in confusion, then his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"This something hasn't got anything to do with the conversation we were having before, does it?" he asked guardedly. The elf shook his head.

"Aragorn," he said solemnly. "You really should learn not to be so paranoid."

The ranger decided not to comment on that, and assessed the likihood that he was going to be able to get out of Legolas' clutches. The probability was not good. Sighing, Aragorn allowed himself to be propelled up the stairs and along several corridors, the king occasionally nodding acknowledgements to passing soldiers and tried to pretend he actually had some say in where Legolas was taking him.

"Can this not wait?" he protested. Legolas sighed heavily.

"If it could wait, Aragorn, I would not have needed to get involved." he said reproachfully. There was a heavy sigh, this time from Aragorn.

"Involved with what, exactly?" he queried. Legolas held up his hand for silence as they approached a heavy looking door. Aragorn raised an eyebrow and turned his attention onto it. There was a brief pause.

"And?" Aragorn looked back at him.

"Need you be so impatient?" Legolas was not to be hurried.

"I don't have time to be impatient." Aragorn eyed the door in front of them, and finally looked back at Legolas in question. "So, are we just here to admire the handiwork or are we supposed to be meeting someone here?"

The elf eyed him again, and produced a key. The king folded his arms and waited as the elf carefully unlocked it as though not to make a sound, and paused as the door softly clicked. He glanced back at Aragorn.

"After you," he said smoothly. Aragorn looked at him for a moment, then shrugged, and pulled open the door, stepping inside.

He scanned the room, frowning as he took in the decorations and candles. Faramir glanced up at him from his position lying on the bed, and gave him a lazy nod. An almost empty bottle of wine sat on the table near the bed, a glass next to it. The elf stepped into the room behind him, and swiftly shut the door, locking it with another faint click. However, Aragorn was not really paying attention to what Legolas was doing behind him.

"Faramir?" the king frowned even harder, and glanced at the bottle. "You drank all of that?"

The Gondorian shrugged, and almost over balanced. Chuckling to himself, he managed to struggle to a better position and try to water down the amusement on his face. The king was conscious of Legolas standing to the side of him, the elf shaking his head disapprovingly.

"It is just as well I brought several bottles," Legolas remarked.

"It's nice stuff," came Faramir's contribution from the bed.

They watched the Steward for a few moments more. Faramir suddenly realised the level of assessment and hurriedly tried to get into a less comfortable position, although almost his balance again. A cushion was sworn at.

"What exactly did you give him?" asked Aragorn in fascination. Faramir was nowhere near the level of hardened drinkers such as Gimli and Éomer, but ordinarily he certainly could hold his own. The steward looked now as though he had put away three bottles instead of the one.

The elf smiled to himself.

"Special recipe."

"So I see. Faramir, love-" Aragorn stepped forward and grabbed hold of the Steward before he made the mistake of actually trying to use his legs for walking purposes. "just settle down, okay?"

Faramir sat back against the mound of pillows and watched his king thoughtfully. Aragorn frowned at him. Up close, Faramir didn't seem that drunk. His eyes were fully focused, his speech wasn't slurred. However, the mood was definitely one that Faramir did not tend to get unless alcoholically persuaded. Aragorn ran his hand over the younger man's brow in case of a strange illness.

Legolas watched him.

"He's just relaxed, Aragorn," he commented, wandering over to the remaining bottles and carefully selecting one. "He's not about to collapse on you."

"I'll agree with that," replied Faramir, his eyes alert on the elf and the new bottle. "so… what are you two here for exactly? In fact, why am I here for that matter?"

Legolas opened the wine and glanced around for fresh glasses. We're here to work out your little problems," he replied. Faramir raised an eyebrow.

"What, the Haradrim?"

"I think they might classify as a larger problem, to be honest." Legolas carefully poured the drink into a glass and passed it to the unenthusiastic Aragorn. Faramir shrugged.

"Okay. Peeling paint. The fact that the kitchens can never properly make garlic bread. A squeaky chair. Loose flagstones-" Faramir was happily offering suggestions in a manner that suggested honest cheekiness.

"Faramir, shush," instructed the elf. The steward looked like he was in half a mind to protest about such instructions, then glanced towards Aragorn as the king finally took a swig of the drink. The king paused, sampling, and looked back at Legolas.

"So what little problem were you talking about that would need candles and romantic scenery?" he asked softly. Legolas sighed.

"Thankfully I know you're not that dense and therefore I will not despair of the entire human race. However, for prosperity and general information, it's to sort out the little problem between you and Faramir." Another glass was passed to said Steward who was staring at him in shock. Faramir's eyes slid to Aragorn worriedly.

"Do we have a problem that needs tackling?" he asked cautiously, hand gripping the glass tighter. Aragorn gave Legolas a look and smiled at Faramir to soothe him.

"No. I think certain people have been busy jumping to conclusions."

"Hardly a jump. More a step," replied Legolas mildly. "You were saying you don't have enough time to explore the relationship." He gestured towards the bed. "Here. Have some time."

Aragorn stared at him. And had to stare at him a little more.

"Explore?" echoed Faramir in disbelief. "Now?"

"Did you have a better time?" Legolas raised an eyebrow. A faint red flush rose to the young Steward's face again, a desperate look aimed towards Aragorn who was amusing himself giving Legolas a very hard stare indeed.

"Legolas, I told you. We're perfectly happy as we are." Aragorn said flatly. "Aren't we Faramir?"

There was a pause. The steward was looking at him in thought. Aragorn frowned and glanced back at him in question, whereby Faramir immediately dropped his gaze to studying the decorated throw underneath him with extreme dedication.

"Faramir?" Aragorn pressed gently. The Gondorian looked slightly wretched, and picked at the material with his fingers.

"Well, I suppose… if we're here… and you haven't got anything else you need to do… we could…" Faramir trailed off. Aragorn stared at him in honest amazement, the elf forgotten.

"You would like some more attention?" the king's voice was soft. Legolas opened his mouth to comment, and then closed it again, smiling inwardly to himself. Ah, Men were so wonderfully simple. It was, in many ways, glorious. Now if they could only come to conclusions themselves and who knew where they could lead to?

Faramir, meanwhile, was looking even more uncomfortable than before. Legolas knew exactly what concerned the young man. The Gondorian was the lover, the passion that was forever in the sidelines. Demanding extra time was just not in the rules. And, if memory served correctly, Gondor especially had a whole lot of rules to consider for social behaviour.

"It's okay. We can … explore if you want," Aragorn smiled at him. Faramir glanced at him briefly as though to judge the expression that was being aimed at him.

"I'm sure I could offer a few suggestions," Legolas murmured. The king glanced at him, amused.

"Are you saying I need teaching?" he queried, lightly. The elf's eyes flickered towards Faramir then back at the king with a raise of the eyebrow. Aragorn suddenly worked it out.

"I think that you might need a little refresher course. I doubt whether everything Elrohir and Elladan taught you would have remained fresh, do you?" Legolas remarked, deciding to keep the conversation as stress-free as possible and therefore keeping information of their own past relationship on the back burners. They eyed each other thoughtfully, only brought back to the present by Faramir's amused laugh.

"You mean this whole room was your idea of a romantic gesture?" the steward was looking back at the candles, the cushions, the covers. A wide grin now graced his face. Legolas raised an eyebrow.

"It's a start, certainly."

"What, no music?" The steward grinned happily. "By the Valar, Legolas, I never realised elves were so corny!"

"Corny?" echoed Legolas, a look of disapproval crossing his features. Faramir tried to calm down his giggles, but the solemn expression he was searching for just wasn't coming. The elf sighed to himself. Even Aragorn was now struggling with his smile in the face of the genuine amusement by Faramir.

"This is a serious business," the elf remarked gravely. Humans! Honestly

"You're right, I'm sorry," Faramir lowered his gaze again, trying to recover himself. His eyes met Aragorn's briefly, both bursting out laughing after a mere moment. Legolas sighed. Obviously the fine art of lovemaking might take a few lessons indeed, if nothing else than to stop Faramir falling out of bed with laughter. He couldn't always rely on Aragorn managing to catch him.

"Fine," the elf raised his eyes to heaven and moved towards the door. Faramir pulled himself into a more suitable position.

"Legolas, wait. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you, it's just that … well…," he waved a hand around the room. The elf waited, his hand on the door handle.


"Well, it's really nice and it's pretty and it's … er… romantically inspired…," Faramir caught Aragorn's eye again and giggled.

"Good bye," Legolas' hand tightened on the door handle only to be stopped by Aragorn's call.


The elf waited patiently, his dark blue eyes falling on Aragorn thoughtfully. The king patted Faramir on the head and looked at his ex-lover with a look that spoke of earlier beliefs having a moment of reconsideration.

"Well, if you're willing to stay… " Aragorn shrugged lightly although his eyes were fixed on the elf. Aragorn's offers were hardly subtle, although Legolas supposed for humans it might pass.

Legolas was aware of Faramir's curious eyes falling in him, although obviously he was still struggling with his giggles. However, the young man had drunk a whole bottle of the special brew and was still able to control his own limbs. Some leeway had to be given.

The elf allowed his hand to drift from the door handle.

Aragorn smiled at Legolas in relief, and drew Faramir's head round to properly kiss him. It took a moment for the Steward to readjust to what was going on, but managed to adapt smoothly, leaning into the kiss and accepting it more than happily. The king finally released his young lover and smiled politely towards the elf.

"You had something like that in mind?" Aragorn managed to keep the grin in check although it certainly flavoured his words.

"Something like that, certainly," Legolas moved slightly closer to them, his eyes sharp on the fact that Aragorn's hand already rested on Faramir's thigh as though claiming possession. "But I thought we might aim for something a little more challenging."

"What, like hanging upside down from the ceiling and kissing?" suggested Faramir cheerfully and got a light clip round the back of the head.

"Thank you, Aragorn." Legolas sighed. He had forgotten exactly how difficult it was to instruct men. Their inappropriate sense of humour often managed to get in the way.

Faramir was grumbling softly, rubbing his head and giving Aragorn a mixture of the puppy-dog look mixed with sulkiness. Aragorn was completely unruffled by his Steward's mutterings. However, even Faramir had to pause as the elf reached them and looked down at them as though studying perspective in a piece of art, eyes slightly narrowed. The Gondorian watched him for a few moments in honest bemusement.

"What's he doing?" he hissed towards Aragorn.

"It's normally best not to ask," muttered back Aragorn.

"Well?" Legolas was obviously getting a little impatient himself. "Were you not planning to do anything further, Elessar?"

Aragorn bit back a retort and pulled Faramir slightly closer to himself, enjoying the young man's heat and the delicious twitch in his groin as the Gondorian wriggled against him to get comfortable. He bent his head towards the smooth creamy skin of Faramir's throat which had been offered to him as the young man rested his head back against Aragorn's shoulder, his king beginning to kiss and nibble along Faramir's neck.

Faramir's hand had already found Aragorn's leg and was rubbing it in enthusiasm, as though this might speed the king up. Aragorn's hands had crept to Faramir's chest, pulling him closer as he continued to harass Faramir's skin gently with his lips.

"Faramir," murmured Legolas. "move your hips slightly. Circle them, almost,"

The Gondorian looked at him through his lashes and obeyed. There was a gasp from Aragorn, whose lover was almost sitting in his lap as it was. The movement was a little too close for comfort, especially if Legolas wanted them to last the distance.

The elf was aware of the young Gondorian watching him eagerly after a while, awaiting further instructions. Legolas looked perplexed for a moment, then smiled to himself. Obviously Faramir was much happier doing more 'interesting' explorations whilst under orders, thereby allowing him the opportunity to claim it was down to someone else. It made sense in a strange Gondorian way, although knowing what Denethor was like also assisted this dramatically. The elf smiled again and met Aragorn's gaze, who was also watching him but with a healthy dose of suspicion.

"Faramir," purred the elf. "Move forwards slightly and strip off your clothes. Carefully and slowly."

Faramir obeyed. Legolas wished he had added 'neatly' to his little list, but you couldn't have everything. The king's attention was also now torn between gazing at his lover and continuing with his dubious expression. Faramir won.

"No touching, Aragorn," Legolas' voice raised slightly higher as the king leant forward. "Faramir. Here."

The steward gave his king a look as though checking he was likely to still be there when he returned, before sliding off the bed and taking the shaky step towards Legolas. The elf smiled at Aragorn again, and murmured something low in the Steward's ear. Aragorn's eyes narrowed a little further. The elf finished his instruction, and smiled again even sweeter at the suspicious ranger on the bed.

"Calm down, Aragorn. It's only a lesson."

"A lesson in what, exactly?" Aragorn paused as Faramir glanced back at him with a particular expression in his eyes. Aragorn knew that look. It was the calculating one that Faramir often had when studying how to do something he had been told by everyone couldn't be done. It was the one that he was wearing when he lead the Ithilien rangers into a head on battle with the Haradrim last week. It was the one he used whenever he managed to get a councilor to agree to something that the counselor had a particular aversion to. The king raised an eyebrow and simply waited for whatever action was going to happen, resigning himself to the inevitable.

He didn't have long to wait either. Faramir was swiftly back on the bed, kneeling in front of him, his hands already unfastening the king's breeches, Aragorn's tunic having been carefully moved to the side to allow him to work. The king was about to offer assistance when Faramir's warm and wet mouth was on him already in a completely uncharacteristic manner. The words battled with the gasp to come out.

"I thought we were supposed to be going slow?" Aragorn gasped finally. Legolas made a tutting noise.

"For the basics? I think not, my young friend."

"Basics?!" Aragorn tried to look round at him but the elf had moved again and Faramir had stepped up the attack. His hands were also attempting to slide Aragorn's breeches from his body. The king lifted his hips helpfully whilst his mind was still focused, and groaned a little harder as Faramir licked and sucked him as though he was the tastiest lollypop in Gondor.

"You want me to do anything else," groaned Aragorn after another few minutes of this torment. "you'd better stop here."

Faramir continued for a few more moments before stopping as suddenly as he started, sitting back on his haunches and licking his lips slightly. Aragorn waited for his heart to calm down a few more beats, before managing to get his vocal chords to work. He could see Faramir's eyes on him hungrily, an orphan who hadn't eaten for a week and who had spied the tastiest of meals.

The king pulled his tunic off himself, dumping it in the pile that Faramir had already started. He nodded once towards the young steward, giving him a knowing smile, before pouncing and knocking Faramir over backwards. He had to roll them both back a little further onto the bed, however, before they both ended up in a pile on the floor.

Aragorn was faintly surprised to realize that Faramir was fighting for dominance almost as much as he was himself, although the younger man's inexperience shone through on occasion. However, Faramir had two things in his favour; one was his incredibly flexibility that came with fitness and sheer youth. The other was blonde, elven and was pulling Aragorn off him.

"I'm sure that's cheating," protested Aragorn. Legolas looked surprised.

"And that matters?"

"It matters to me!"

Legolas silenced him with a long kiss. The entire fight left Aragorn's body, although whether that was from surprise or enthusiasm the elf wasn't entirely sure. Not that it really mattered, however. Legolas pulled back slightly and looked down at the king who was staring back at him with a wide-eyed expression normally found on Faramir. The steward himself, however, had a cocky grin on his face at his king's sudden need to acquiesce to the situation.

The elf looked across at the younger human sternly.

"I'm not doing all the work for you, Faramir," Despite Legolas' words his eyes were mild.

Faramir put on his best 'useful' expression and nodded. Legolas studied him for a moment thoughtfully. The 'useful' expression suddenly obtain a more nervous hint to it, especially as the elf leant down and whispered something in Aragorn's ear.

The steward suddenly found himself pulled into an elven kiss himself, his weight having to shift to avoid himself falling over immediately. There was the briefest look of panic in the young man's eyes, no doubt considering all the factors of adultery against the king, before this too managed to drift from his mind as Legolas gently explored his mouth with his tongue, taking the kiss even deeper. The elf could feel the young human almost collapse in his arms, despite his amusement towards 'corny' romance. Obviously there was a definite 'corny' potential within Denethor's bloodline, which was quite entertaining in itself.

Faramir's engrossment in the kiss had managed to completely ruin his concentration. At Aragorn's hand on his steward's backside, Legolas had to grab hold of Faramir hard to avoid him jumping. The grip had to seriously increase when Aragorn obeyed orders and started to-


"Relax, Faramir," Legolas soothed briefly into his ear before kissing him again. The Steward of Gondor, fearless in the face of danger, intrepid in the wilderness, valiant against countless foes, was suddenly reduced to a pile of trembling nerves as a tongue was introduced to his most sensitive areas. Legolas wondered mildly about bruises. If Aragorn was having to hold on as tightly as he was himself, Faramir had a grave risk of looking like he had been attacked with several clubs.

"But-!" whimpered the young man, still squirming. Legolas smiled to himself. Obviously this part was one of the techniques that Aragorn never got around to doing with the young steward.

"He's very good at that, isn't he?" the elf breathed into the young human's ear. "Don't worry, Faramir. Aragorn enjoys it."

The incredulous look flashed across Faramir's eyes. "But he's sticking his tongue up my-"

Aragorn stuck it a little higher. Faramir reacted as though electrocuted, his back arching, mouth open in what was almost a silent scream. His breath was so fast Legolas had a brief worry that the young man was going to pass out from lack of oxygen. He whimpered lightly again as Aragorn bent him over to a greater degree, allowing the king to spread him even more blatantly. The hot wet warmth was soon lapping against him again, Faramir trembling so much it felt as though he was naked in a snow-storm.

At Legolas's touch on his erection, Faramir almost jumped again. The pleading look returned to the Steward's eyes, although the appeal was never voiced. It was like looking at a puppy who was desperate for a snack.

After a while, it was obvious Faramir didn't know who to lean against, being attacked at both ends. Legolas met Aragorn's gaze over Faramir's shoulder and nodded briefly. Aragorn grinned, and simply moved back after patting his steward's raised backside gently as though a horse's flank.

"What-?" The ability to finish a sentence was seriously not working in Faramir. He glanced back towards the king in shock, having expected the feel of Aragorn pushing into him any second. An absence of anything at the rear was somewhat disconcerting.

Equally Legolas soon moved his hand away, leaving a most unsatisfied Steward. Faramir was obviously having difficulties holding his tongue, although the desperate look soon faded to curiousity as Aragorn settled himself against the headboard, having thrown most of the cushions onto the floor in a rain of soft brightly coloured objects. The elf took hold of Faramir's unresisting hand and gave a little pull. Faramir followed obediently, although the dazed look in his eyes stated how much of this was automatic.

Aragorn had taken the opportunity to anoint himself with oil, pulling Faramir to straddle his hips. Faramir looked at him doubtfully, not used to having Aragorn face to face with him in such situations. The king smiled at him gently and placed his hands on the younger man's hips, guiding him. Faramir bit his lip in concentration as he felt the tip of Aragorn against his entrance, seizing hold of his bravery and pushing down against the king.

The steward fought to keep his eyes open, not least because he could at least see the look of pleasure that appeared on his king's face as Aragorn entered him. Faramir managed to keep his own look of discomfort off his face as he slid down, although he took the opportunity to regain his breath and poise once fully sheathed. Aragorn was managing to rub against places that really didn't normally get rubbed, and that was an experience indeed.

Faramir attempted to move a little more but his king's hands were on his hips, holding him fast. Aragorn gently guided the younger man into a gentle rocking movement, so different from the usual hard-feel-it-in-the-kidneys thrusts that were normally all they had time for between meetings and duties. Faramir wasn't entirely sure which one he preferred; he could see the look of desire and caring on his lover's face which normally had to be imagined, if that. However, he was sure the gentle torment was more likely to kill him than any powerful thrust Aragorn had in him. Not that he wanted to try, of course.

He shut his eyes and moaned gently as Aragorn's length started to play some fantastic sensations inside his body. At Aragorn's hand on his erection, Faramir had a distinct desire to move faster, to get his satisfaction as soon as possible. Lazy passionate sessions seemed to be more geared for the elf market.

Aragorn felt his steward's eagerness, felt him move harder and more persistently against him, and had to resist the urge to simply pull out, shove Faramir over and thrust into him. However, apparently trying to kebab your lover wasn't deemed romantic. Faramir was making the little whimpering noises he normally made to hurry the king along, knowing each little moan went straight on to throb in Aragorn's groin. Aragorn had to seek out his willpower yet again.

"Please?" Faramir leant forward, his hands around Aragorn's shoulders, his mouth near his ear. His plea was almost a murmur, but it was certainly heartfelt. Aragorn glanced towards Legolas briefly before finally allowing himself to slide out. He pushed the young Steward onto his back, and pushed up his legs, thrusting into him as quickly as he was able. Faramir cried out, his head tilting backwards, as Aragorn continued to work, a look of intense concentration crossing his king's face as he thrust into the willing young man.

Legolas sighed briefly to himself. Men's idea of romance were so much more … brutal.

On the plus side, it was clear that both parties were enjoying themselves. Faramir moaned loudly again, meeting Aragorn's thrusts as hard as he could. Aragorn growled something back, almost primitively. Legolas watched without a word but certainly with a slight smile as the king found his release within a minute or so, thrusting hard within Faramir to the extent that the elf was faintly impressed the younger man wasn't pushed off the bed. Aragorn managed to stifle his own cry to a muffled noise, shuddering into his steward before withdrawing, his movements showing a distinct lack of energy.

Faramir didn't look any better. The steward appeared as though he had just walked the perimeter of Gondor in a matter of hours. Sweat gleamed on his body, his chest working overtime with the heavy breaths his body was demanding. He smiled towards Aragorn, who grinned back and leaned over to kiss him fondly on the forehead before moving his hand to touch Faramir's obviously aching erection.

"Wait a moment," Legolas stepped forward. Aragorn looked up, surprised. The look on Faramir's face was not quite as polite.

"Legolas?" There was an edge of desperation and annoyance in Faramir's voice. Aragorn gently stroked his hand over Faramir's weeping erection before moving away. Legolas had a sneaking suspicion the Steward was going to kill someone by the look that crossed his face.

"It's okay, little one," Legolas soothed, moving towards the bed.

"No, I'm pretty damn certain it's not okay," grumbled Faramir, eying the elf as he moved himself to a position sitting behind the Steward's head, his hands lightly touching Faramir's wrists as though in point to what would happen should Faramir be foolish enough to try and touch himself. Legolas raised his eyes to meet Aragorn's. The king's eyes darkened, just for a moment, and nodded.

"Faramir," Legolas said softly. "I want you to take him."

Faramir stared up at him, incredulously. "What?"

"I want you to take Aragorn." There was the faintest of smiles on Legolas' face. "You won't hurt him."

The incredulous look had turned into one of horror, as though Legolas had suggested that Faramir engage relations with a horse in the stable.

"I can't do that!" he protested.

"Why not?" Legolas hadn't expected such a firm response. A little bit of a flush, possibly. Probably even eyes cast downwards shyly. However, Faramir was almost aggressive in his refusal.

"He's my king, that's why not!"

"Is there a rule against it?" Legolas raised an eyebrow. Faramir gave a short laugh.

"This is Minas Tirith. Of course there's a rule against it! Did you not see the size of the library?!" In his concentration, Faramir had not noticed Aragorn moving closer to him until the king's palm was resting on his Steward's chest. Suddenly the concentration had a new target.

"And what if I ordered you to do it?" the king asked softly. There was the briefest of struggles within the young man's eyes.

"You could," he sighed finally. "but I would ask of you not to, sire. Please, I can't!"

Aragorn met the elf's eyes, and shrugged lightly. Legolas considered it.

"And what if I were to do it instead? Is that against the rules?" he queried, fascinated despite the situation. Faramir paused, a confused look in his eyes as he tried to remember.

"I don't think so. You're a guest of the realm. It'll probably be called diplomatic relations,"

"Diplomatic relations?" There was a funny look crossing Legolas' eyes. Aragorn looked at him in query. The elf shook his head, smiling at him, and suddenly Aragorn had a lot more things to consider than what that little thing was about.

Faramir was about to get up as Legolas' hands left his wrists but Aragorn was already leaning over him, his breath suddenly on Faramir's still screaming erection. The younger man gasped and bit his lip, unable to comment on this new turn up for the books as the king took him into his mouth without allowing Faramir any decision in the matter at all. Aragorn swirled his tongue over the head of Faramir's cock, tasting the saltiness, before taking him deeply. Faramir's desire to escape suddenly evaporated.

The steward could feel at the exact point where Legolas' fingers slid into the king as Aragorn suddenly stopped, readjusting to the feeling. However, this feeling was obviously easy to get over as the king began again, sucking and licking. A few moments later, Faramir was slightly horrified to notice that Legolas had already lined himself up and was pushing into him. Aragorn's eyes shut briefly at the invasion, his tongue gently flickering over the tip of Faramir's cock in a manner that made the steward tremble.

The king was obviously extremely multi-talented. Having adjusted incredibly quickly to the feeling of the elf inside him, Aragorn stepped up the attack on every sensitive spot Faramir possessed, causing Faramir to be once again thrust back into his own private world. The younger man jumped as he felt the king's hand massage between his legs even as Aragorn sucked and played, causing another moan-whimper fall from Faramir's lips as the younger man struggled to keep control of himself.

This proved to be more of a task than he was able to achieve; his body already teased to a great extent, his muscles tense and ready, his groin a fire-ball of need even before Aragorn's thumb had started its explorations, Faramir almost howled in his release when it came and collapsed, panting, on the bed. He looked at Aragorn through half closed lids as the king carefully licked up every drop and grinned at Faramir. The grin suddenly had a strained look as the elf thrust hard within him, having waited until Aragorn was completely off of Faramir before beginning in earnest. After all, the Steward was unlikely to find teeth marks on his cock a turn on, although you never could tell with the quiet ones.

Faramir watched, fascinated despite the little voice in the back of his mind telling him that Kings really really shouldn't be in that sort of position unless there was a serious problem with the foreign policy. Aragorn had moved himself onto hands and knees, his head now bowed as though in deep thought or submission. Faramir could see the trembling through the older man's shoulders and arms, the shudder each time Legolas thrust into him. The elf seemed completely under control, if anything his face a mild look of concentration. Faramir felt himself throb again at Aragorn's guttural groan as Legolas slammed into him and obviously hit a damn good spot to hit. This was done again and again until Faramir could see the sweat gleaming on his lover's back and arms, every pant Aragorn made being a moan that was becoming more and more desperate.

Faramir slid himself down slightly and reached to touch his king. Aragorn's response to Faramir's hand on his erection was electric; the moan suddenly increased in intensity, Aragorn opening his eyes to stare at his Steward who gave him a friendly grin. Aragorn managed to laugh to himself before Legolas completely ruined this plan and got the angle exactly right again, freezing any ability that Aragorn might have to consider factors on the outside world.

After this, it was only a matter of time. Attacked on two fronts, Aragorn had no chance whatsoever, and he admitted defeat, allowing himself to drift along on the sensations that Legolas and Faramir were producing in him. His Steward's talented hands were making quick work of his erection, which was complemented by the hard possessive way that the elf took him. Aragorn's breath hitched; he gave a soft whimper, dropping his head again as his entire body seemed to empty, shuddering with the force of his orgasm. His arms and legs struggled to hold him upright.

The strong clenching of Aragorn's muscles managed to work their skill on Legolas; the elf's hands tightened on Aragorn's hips briefly before shooting into him, although not a murmur came from the elf in response. A light gasp was all he allowed himself as he withdrew.

Having been freed of Legolas, Aragorn took the opportunity to flop to one side of Faramir, his arm lying directly across the steward's chest, his breathing heavy and loud despite Aragorn being almost face down. Faramir snuggled closer to him, feeling the tremendous heat of the man's body against him.

"The pair of you are trying to kill me aren't you," came the muffled voice of the king. Faramir kissed his shoulder.

"Perhaps that's the reason why there's the rules," he suggested. "Death by fucking probably wouldn't go down well."

"Certainly a good way to go if it happens," replied Legolas calmly. "However, stop trying to die, Aragorn. It doesn't suit you."

Aragorn managed to obtain enough energy to push himself onto his back, and briefly paused to kiss Faramir on the forehead. Faramir smiled back at him fondly.

Legolas watched them momentarily and grinned to himself. Men were so adorable, in a messy type of way.

"Right, so that's the basics," he said, finally bringing himself back to the present. "Now, what I suggest we do is…,"

He trailed off at the two sets of incredulous and slightly panicked eyes. Faramir swallowed, and edged closer to Aragorn.

"You mean there's more?"

Legolas shrugged. "When you've been around as long as I have, you get to pick up a lot of techniques. You should hear some of the tales my father has. I had always wondered how he had the time." The elf shook his head. "Diplomatic relations indeed," he sighed to himself.

The two humans were still watching him with varying degrees of wariness. The elf raised an eyebrow.

"I assume those looks mean that you want a rest?" he queried. Faramir's eyes still had a particularly nervous expression on them. Aragorn's were not much better, although his nervousness was definitely more leaning towards the wary.

"Okay, so in ten minutes…," the elf watched the expressions and sighed. "An hour?" There was another pause. "By the Valar, I thought youth was supposed to be able to readjust very swiftly!"

"I hardly consider myself as being a youth," protested Aragorn sulkily. The actual youth of the group kept his mouth shut. Legolas rolled his eyes and sighed.

"However…," Aragorn continued. The elf looked interested and ignored the fact that the young Steward looked like a rabbit caught in a wolf's gaze. The king grinned at the elf.

"Unless you're busy, Legolas, we could continue lessons this time next week?"

The elf considered this. "I believe that might be agreeable," he confirmed warmly. There was a little sigh of relief from Faramir, who simply snuggled closer to Aragorn and shut his eyes.

Regular 'lessons' sounded as though it was likely to be entertaining indeed. Now all they needed were homework assignments…


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The following people read the story, enjoyed it, and would like to thank the author: Mel

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This was a wonderful story. I actually found it inspired a plot bunny of my own. Thank you so much for shareing.

— El    11 May 2007, 19:45    #

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