Miles To Go Before I Sleep
Chapter Three: Some Mistake
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I
should not have returned his kiss. This is the thought in the forefront of
my mind, as I feel Brego shift again beneath me as we ride together across
the wilds of Rohan. If I had had less pipeweed, if there had been fewer
troubles pressing on my consciousness, if I had only been given time to
think the situation through...but all of these are but conjecture. The actuality--the *fact*--of the matter was that when Legolas kissed me with a hungry need, so deep and strong, which I did not know the Elf was capable of expressing, I responded. I cannot say "in kind", for that would be a falsehood--I had only ever kissed one other with the degree of passion Legolas had shown me then. But I did not sputter and push him away, and I did not remain motionless with the shock of his expression of affection. I most assuredly returned the kiss. I know now that responding to Legolas' kiss was an error on my part. I *know* it, and not simply because Legolas was another male. What I wanted, what I needed, was to feel the comfort I felt in Arwen's arms, and to give the comfort I hoped I often gave her. In truth, I was not thinking much of Legolas at all, though in retrospect, allowing what followed was far crueler on my part than if I had scowled and pushed him aside in his time of need. He moved his mouth from my lips to my stubbled chin, and down my neck, and for my part, I did nothing to stop him. I could feel him at my waist, pushing up my traveler's jerkin, tugging at the drawstring on my leggings, and I knew, *I knew* where his actions were leading, but I did nothing, save to close my eyes. A Man cannot help but feel pleasure when pleasurable actions are performed upon him, regardless of who is committing such actions. I am a Man, and I cannot help the way my body chooses to feel--be it the pain of my shoulder, throbbing insistently in its need for treatment, or what I felt that evening in the woods, as Legolas pleasured me. I did not ask the Elf for that, but neither did I pull him from me. I think back upon that night now, as I ride, and despite the fever, it is still clear to me...as clear as it was then, anyhow. With my eyes closed, I had effectively blinded myself to the physical realities of what was occurring: I could not see the dark shadows of branches, or the moonlight that must have filtered through them onto the forest floor. I could not see Legolas, my friend, as he knelt before me. What I saw, in my mind, was Arwen. I saw a firelit chamber in Rivendell; I saw silken sheets turned back, their enticing smoothness beckoning. *Her* enticing smoothness, beckoning. I felt my breath come in shorter gasps as these memories collided with the very real heat in my groin. And then, I heard his voice, breaking my reverie. "Aragorn--please." His plea was insistent, needy, but I knew not what more he wanted of me, and I dared not open my eyes to face what I had begun with that kiss. I groped blindly forward, finding his head, and resting my hand there, on the smoothness of his hair. How like hers it was--soft and full. He did not push my hand away, but it slipped to his shoulders as he struggled with something: I remember hearing the rustling of the leaves on the forest floor, and thinking how like it was to the rustling of the draperies in Arwen's chamber, when the fall winds blew, gentle but chill, through them. And then, I felt him draw me down, felt him beneath me, the bared skin of his abdomen, his legs, against my hips, where he'd pulled apart my own clothing. I felt his hands on me, guiding me forward, allowing me entry, and almost I thought I was in her arms again, in the woods outside Rivendell, where none would see us consummate a love we could not bear to hold in any longer. Almost. I may be but a Man, but I consider myself perceptive nonetheless. Thinking back, I had willed myself to another place and another time, but there were some faults to that illusion in which I had cloaked my encounter with Legolas. The one that I remember most clearly now, as Brego shifts again and I try to sit up straighter, as if to prove that I can complete the journey, is the hard heat of Legolas, pressed against my belly, between us as I moved within him. It was as plain to me then as it is now, but still, it did not stop me from taking one Elf while my mind remained fixed on another. GO TO Chapter Four BACK to Chapter Index BACK to Gypsie Index BACK to Fanfic Index BACK to Main Page |