"I never thought such an odd little village could be so appealing," Delilah exclaimed as she looked out the window of their room at the Prancing Pony, watching the activities taking place in the streets of Bree below.
“Do you really like it here, my darling?” Aragorn asked, slipping up behind her and placing his hands on her shoulders, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on her temple.
“I do,” she agreed. “I thought I might not at first, as it seemed very dark and cheerless here at first, but after spending some time in the Common Room and all, it’s really not so bad. And that Butterbur is definitely a character, isn’t he?” She smiled as she thought of the addled but kindly proprietor of the Prancing Pony.
Aragorn laughed softly. “Yeah, poor old Barliman. Even after I’ve been away from here for two years and return as the King of Gondor, he still looks at me with mistrust in his eyes.”
Delilah turned and looped her arms around the Ranger’s neck, burying her fingers into his tangled hair and looking up into his piercing blue eyes. “Well, not everyone can love you as much as I do, darling. You’ll just have to get used to that.”
Aragorn smiled. “Nor would I want anyone to love me as you do, my precious Delilah. For you are all I desire in the whole of Middle Earth.” He bent his head and captured her lips in a soft kiss, their lips moving together slowly and sensuously, their tongues touching gently. Delilah made a quiet humming sound and pressed her body closer to Aragorn’s, shifting herself slightly so that she was able to slowly wriggle her hips against the front of the Ranger’s leather leggings, feeling the center of his desire growing hard almost instantly from the stimulation.
“Mmm…..Delilah…..min bain-nin,” Aragorn murmured against her lips, his kisses increasing in ardor, becoming less tender and more demanding as his passions were stirred. His hands slid down Delilah’s body, then around to her back to start unlacing the bodice of her overdress.
Delilah’s breath grew heavier and more rapid as she felt her dress becoming loose around her middle and slipping down to pool at her feet. Aragorn then lifted her up into his arms, still kissing her, not wanting to release her lips for even an instant. Delilah clung to him, whimpering softly with want, almost ready to beg for his touch if her mouth had not been so otherwise occupied.
Aragorn sat Delilah on the windowsill and then slid to his knees before her, looking up into her eyes as he slowly slid his hands up her thighs, pushing up the hem of her under tunic bit by bit until it was bunched up around her waist, leaving her entire lower half exposed. He parted her legs gently, leaning in to kiss the inside of each of her thighs with light, teasing butterfly brushes of his lips that had Delilah almost panting with need of more.
“Aragorn,” she sighed, trembling. “Please….I need…” She could not even complete the thought, for at that moment Aragorn’s tongue slid over the heated crevice between her legs and she gasped and spread her legs wider, giving him more access to her charms.
With ever-increasing hunger, Aragorn’s tongue and lips traced over every inch of Delilah’s treasure, this part of her that was reserved for him and him alone. He breathed in the musky scent of her arousal as he lapped up the sweet nectar that leaked from her, sliding his tongue as deeply inside her as he could to lick the inner walls. The moans and gasps and whispers of delight that issued from her lovely lips was music to his ears and made him so hard and so hot for her that it almost drove every other thought out of mind. But he was determined to make sure she reached the pinnacle of her passion before he would sate his own desires.
Licking back up her womanly crease, Aragorn began to concentrate on the stiffened little nub that made Delilah grasp the back of his head and writhe her hips in ecstasy, her eyes tightly shut.
“Oh Aragorn,” she groaned, her voice tense and shaking with lust. “Oh gods….Oh gods….Just a little more, my darling……Oh gods…..Oh yes!” With that she suddenly arched violently, her head leaning back against the window as she climaxed violently, shuddering and biting her lower lip to keep in her cries. Nonetheless, she could not wholly curb the sobbing moans that issued from her beautiful throat.
With a final few swipes of his tongue, Aragorn stood and hastily unlaced his breeches, and Delilah watched with glazed eyes as his enormously swollen manhood was freed. He was so aroused that the head was slick and shiny with the fluid that had already leaked out. Without hesitation, he pulled his leggings down to his knees and stepped up between Delilah’s spread legs, his erection finding her opening almost on its own and slipping smoothly inside her to the hilt.
“Oh Delilah…..” Aragorn groaned softly, feeling the hot, velvety passage enclosing him. He knew he wasn’t going to last long. He was too excited and she felt too good. He slipped his arms around her and felt her arms come around him, holding him close as he began to piston in and out of her depths. “Oh gods, meleth-nin…..You feel exquisite.”
Delilah was humming softly as she was stretched and filled with Aragorn’s rock-hard manhood, gripping his waist tightly, leaning up to bury her face in his hair, breathing in the scent of sweat and woods and musky male arousal, licking the side of his neck and tasting the saltiness of his skin. His thrusts grew more violent and his breathing increased to raw pants and low, desperate-sounding moans and she knew he was close.
Sure enough, with a strangled cry kept in behind clenched teeth, Aragorn exploded within Delilah’s body, his seed filling her with scorching heat. His body jerking and trembling with reaction, his eyes closed blissfully.
When it was over, he kept his softening organ within her for a time, kissing her gently and holding her close until his breathing calmed down a bit and the lightheaded rapture of his climax had subsided somewhat.
*************************
While Aragorn and Delilah were busy upstairs, Boromir and Lydia were down in the Common Room, sitting in a booth in the far corner and sharing a pint of ale. Actually, they were sharing much more than just the ale.
They had been out walking around the town, as much to get out and enjoy the day as to give Aragorn and Delilah some much-needed privacy. The weather was overcast, but the temperature was mild and there was a wonderful breeze blowing and it did much to heighten the spirit. So now, sitting here in semi-privacy in a dimly lit corner, the lovers were feeling the inevitable results that a blend of closeness and heightened spirit ensues.
Lips touched, lightly and teasingly at first, then with more intent as the ever-present smoldering passion between them flared higher. Soon the tentative kisses turned into a full-on assault on each other’s mouths. Now lips clashed and slid, tongues licked and darted, hands fisted into clothing, sighs and whimpers were caught and swallowed between them.
Lydia let her hands tangle in Boromir’s hair, gasping as her lover pulled her closer and began feasting on her neck, nipping and licking and growling softly with lustful insistence. The room suddenly swirled before Lydia’s eyes as she grew dizzy with desire, her eyes becoming hazy and unfocused, feeling Boromir’s hands sliding down to start rubbing her breasts through her dress, causing her nipples to stiffen into hard, aching peaks almost immediately.
“Oh gods, Boromir,” she whispered in a trembling voice. “I want you so badly, my darling……please….”
“Then take me,” Boromir murmured in her ear, biting the lobe softly in emphasis. As always, his deep voice sent chills of delight down her spine, and only increased her ardor. She moaned softly as her hand slid down the muscular slopes of his body to fall into his lap, where she could feel his hardness pressing against the laces of his breeches, begging to be released.
Heedless of who might walk by our table at any moment, she made quick work of loosening his breeches and pulling out his thick member. It was fully erect and leaking from the tip in excitement. As she rubbed her thumb through the warm liquid, spreading it around the head of his shaft, Boromir sighed heavily and took her mouth in another deep kiss, his tongue plunging deeply and rhythmically, mimicking what the throbbing organ in her hand would be doing between her legs not too far in the future.
She began to stroke him with a practiced hand, knowing his body so well by now that she knew exactly what areas to concentrate on that gave him the most pleasure, so that soon he was almost panting with lust, his shaft so fully engorged with blood that it had no give to the flesh whatsoever. He pulled back to look at her, and she could see the passion and need blazing in the green depths of his eyes. He licked his lips slowly, studying her for a moment, then he suddenly pulled her up off the bench and onto his lap. Before she could utter a sound of protest, she gasped as she felt that hot, thick column of flesh penetrate her, pushing deep inside.
“Boromir,” she gasped, leaning her head back against his shoulder as he began to nip and kiss the side of her neck, his entire body quivering with the effort of restraining himself. “My love…..We cannot do this here. Someone will see.”
“Then you will just have to keep very still, will you not?” Boromir purred, gritting his teeth and moaning softly as her inner muscles tightened temporarily around his shaft as she shifted on his lap. She turned as much as she could and smiled at him, saying playfully, “Well…….maybe not that still….”
With that, she began to rhythmically tighten and loosen her vaginal muscles, whilst keeping the rest of her body perfectly still. Her long skirts concealed everything, so to the casual observer, it looked like she was merely perching on her lover’s lap, sharing a pint. The only signs that might give them away were the sudden sweat that broke out on Boromir’s face and the sharp edge that his breathing took on as he gripped her waist tightly.
“Clever girl,” he whispered, his voice rough and heavy with desire. Lydia leaned her head back against his shoulder and continued her muscular contractions, her eyes drifting shut in concentration and rapture. Squeeze. Release. Squeeze. Release. Gods, he felt so good within her. How she wanted him to just bend her over the table right now and take her properly. But for now, she thought with a wicked smile, she would draw out the torment for both of them.
“You like that, my love?” she murmured, bending her neck back to brush her lips against his. “Feel how hot and tight I am around you? Feel how my body wants to draw you in as deeply as you can go? It wants you, my darling. I want you.” She finished her teasing with a playful nip at his jaw, hearing his frustrated growl.
“Upstairs…….now,” he muttered, his hands sliding up and down her torso with restless motions, his breath coming rapidly and harshly.
Lydia giggled softly. “Why, you have not finished your ale, Boromir. You should at least….” Then she was cut off with a gasp as he suddenly arched his hips up….hard….driving himself deeply within her and making both of them moan simultaneously.
“I said….upstairs….now,” he repeated, and though he spoke quietly, his voice carried an undercurrent of urgency that made Lydia shudder with anticipation.
Reluctantly, Lydia slid herself off of his shaft, feeling a sense of emptiness and loss almost instantly. Then, with as much dignity as she could muster, she started for the stairs. Boromir did not even bother to tuck himself away, but merely let the hem of his tunic hang down to conceal the proof of his arousal long enough to follow Lydia up the darkened staircase.
Once on the second landing, however, the warrior let all of his restraint go. Lydia barely had time to reach the door to their room before he was tearing her dress down the back with an impatient growl. Lydia turned toward him, her face flushed, her eyes dark and shining with need, and she was immediately captured in a frantic kiss that made the world suddenly vanish until nothing existed for her except his plundering mouth, his rich, masculine scent, and the taut, toned body that pressed insistently against her own.
He broke away just long enough to pull his concealing shirt away from his extremely protuberant erection, which now ached so horribly that Boromir could not hold back any longer. Shoving Lydia’s skirts up around her waist, he wrapped his arms around her lower back. Then, with a grunt and a smooth flex of muscles, he lifted her up and pulled her toward him, letting her legs naturally twine themselves around his waist as his pulsing shaft pierced her body, driving deeply inside her as her body weight settled down upon it.
Lydia gasped sharply as she was stretched open so deliciously. Boromir gave an answering growl as he locked his mouth over hers again and leaned her up against the wall by the door, pumping his hips into her, groaning down her throat as the wet friction tormented his straining organ. He had to have more. He could not get the leverage he required to thrust into her the way he wanted to……The way he needed to.
************************
Kissing slowly and tenderly after the completion of their lovemaking, Aragorn and Delilah were still by the window when the door to the room suddenly burst open, startling them both. Aragorn had automatically reached for the hilt of Narsil, but retracted his hand, the alert, challenging expression in his blue eyes replaced by one of indulgent amusement as he saw who entered the room.
Boromir, with Lydia wrapped around him like a new form of body armor, came staggering into the room, his mouth attacking hers so ardently that it seemed he was trying to suck out her soul. His hips were pressing against hers in a blindly instinctive attempt at rhythm, which told their observers that penetration had already commenced.
The lovers fell upon the bed in a panting, groaning, whimpering tangle of arms and legs, and as soon as Boromir felt a solid surface beneath him, he immediately began to thrust into Lydia’s body at an almost frantic pace, his arms still wrapped tightly around her, holding her body against his, his breath coming in harsh, tearing gasps.
“My gods…..” Delilah whispered to Aragorn, her eyes wide. “I wonder what Lydia has done? I do not recall ever seeing Boromir this…..ermm….enthusiastic.”
“It does not occur often,” Aragorn whispered back. “In fact, I have only seen its like in Boromir before in times of battle, but never during moments of passion.” He smiled. “Evidently Lydia has discovered a way to bring out his full warrior nature even in acts of love.”
Then they fell silent for a time, watching the savagely rutting couple on the bed a mere six feet away from them, and Delilah could not help running her hands over Aragorn’s body as the sight before her began to stir her own arousal again. The look on Lydia’s face…..a perfect blend of pain and ecstasy….was fascinating. And when Lydia’s shaking, restless hands fisted into Boromir’s shirt and literally tore the garment from the warrior’s straining body with the harsh sound of ripping cloth, Delilah actually gasped aloud.
“At this rate, Boromir will have no garments left by the time we get back to Minus Tirith,” Aragorn joked in a whisper to Delilah.
Delilah smiled. “Not that we would hear Lydia utter any complaints about that, I assure you.”
A loud groan from Boromir and the way his body bucked and stiffened told Aragorn and Delilah that the warrior had achieved his release. But it was not over yet. To the utter amazement of both of them, when Boromir withdrew from Lydia just long enough to completely strip off his breeches, both Aragorn and Delilah could see that his member was still rock hard, as if he had never come at all.
And Delilah could see from the hungry, almost predatory look on Lydia’s face that she had noted this as well. Then Boromir was pulling Lydia’s disheveled clothing off with the same hurried roughness before flipping her over, pushing her down on her stomach and lifting her hips before entering her from behind.
“Oh gods, Boromir. Yes!” Lydia cried, her hands fisting into the bedsheets as she was rocked with hard, deep thrusts.
“Okay, I say she has bewitched him,” Aragorn whispered, his voice touched with awe and arousal.
“Mmm….Maybe I ought to ask her what spell she used,” Delilah murmured in Aragorn’s ear, running her hand over the front of his leggings, where his manhood was now growing hard again watching the display before them.
Bending over Lydia’s back, his magnificent body coated in a sheen of perspiration, Boromir began to suck ardently at his lover’s shoulder, his hands running underneath her body, over her smooth stomach and firm white breasts, his hips pounding against her rear. He emitted whimpers and growls of passion, almost insane with lust for this woman and with the incredibly pleasurable sensations flowing through him.
Crying out in ecstasy, Lydia’s orgasm rolled over her like a summer storm, leaving her trembling and nearly sobbing in its wake. And yet, she begged for more. Unwilling to have the passion cease yet. Boromir had no intentions of stopping yet, not when he knew he could wrest another climax from her, and he also knew that a second orgasm was inevitable for him as well….something he could not recall achieving since the days of his youth.
Rolling Lydia onto her back again and pulling her legs up over his shoulders, he entered her again and took her harder than ever, murmuring Gondorian curses harshly in his rabid quest for release. Lydia was crying out his name repeatedly as his throbbing shaft continued its violent invasion.
Meanwhile, Aragorn and Delilah were now deeply involved in another tongue-tangling kiss of their own, counter pointed by the groans and gasps of their companions. Soon, the sounds grew even hotter and became intermingled with words spoken in strained, breathless voices.
“Gods….Boromir….I am going to…..Oooo…I do not know if I can bear this….Please….Please, my darling….Oh gods!” Then Lydia was climaxing again with a cry so loud it was almost a scream. Her nails digging harshly into the warrior’s back as she shuddered and writhed beneath him.
“Dear Valar…” Boromir rasped, watching her with flashing green eyes, positively drunk with lust now. He laid fully upon her, pistoning in and out of her hot, wet passage with reckless abandon, feeling the inevitable tightening and tingling sensations between his legs that told of his own orgasm rapidly approaching. He battered his lover’s body with his hips in his blind need for release……Gods, he was so close……
Delilah and Aragorn, still involved in their passionate embrace, were suddenly startled as a harsh, rapturous shout from Boromir was accompanied by a resounding cracking sound and a thud. They spun around to see the lovers in a tangled, sweaty, panting heap atop a mattress that was now sitting at a rather odd angle to the floor.
“Oh lovely,” Aragorn sighed, chuckling. “There goes the bed.”
Still trying to recover from his exertions, Boromir turned his head towards Aragorn, and the impish gleam in his green eyes and sly smile on his face spoke volumes of what he thought of his accomplishment. Meanwhile, despite her post-orgasmic bliss and physical exhaustion, Lydia was giggling beneath him.
“My gods, Boromir,” Delilah exclaimed, wide-eyed. She looked now to Aragorn, who was looking at her with a smile.
“I did not think ‘twas mine either,” Boromir said, his voice slightly bemused as he surveyed the damage. He glanced down at the fully satisfied expression on the woman beneath him and smiled, saying, “But I guess you had no complaints, did you, my love?” He captured her lips in a slow kiss that was surprisingly soft and gentle after the wild lovemaking they had just completed.
“Mmm…..That was incredible, Boromir. Truly it was,” Lydia sighed, slowly threading her fingers through his golden hair. Then she winced slightly as she shifted her legs. “Although I do believe that walking properly is going to become problematic for the next day or so.”
Delilah could not help but giggle at that as she exchanged an understanding glance with her friend. But she did not believe that a little thing like walking in an unusual fashion was going to deter Lydia from goading her devoted warrior to such erotic heights again. And Delilah sincerely hoped that she and Aragorn would be present to witness the next encounter as well.
“Do not form any ideas in your head about me breaking any beds, meleth-nin,” Aragorn cautioned. He took Delilah in his arms and kissed her again, tenderly. When their lips parted, he added quietly, “’Tis not my style.”