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Mar. 11th, 2003 10:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
claudia603(*whew!*) after a hard evening working on this!! :-)
This snippet of TLTW takes place about three months after Ellohir is born.
Disclaimer: Don’t own it. Don’t make money off it.
For Lily, before her break! :-)
Aragorn took off his boots at the door to the chamber and crept to the bed. He smiled as he looked down on the hobbit lying atop the crimson silk covers, fully clothed and in a deep sleep. Color had returned to his too-gaunt cheeks, which, Aragorn thought ruefully, had been helped by the two glasses of wine the hobbit had consumed that night. Frodo still wore a brocaded vest interwoven with silver and gleaming blue threads that brought out a blue in Frodo’s eyes to rival Elvish sapphires. This night had been Frodo’s first appearance at a social gathering since Ellohir’s birth. He had endured nearly two hours of well wishers and people curious about the birth –- and all with a smile -- before he had bid everyone a good night.
Aragorn crawled onto the bed and curled up against Frodo, who opened his eyes and yawned. “Has everyone left?” he murmured, turning to snuggle against Aragorn’s chest. “What is the time?”
Aragorn nodded, kneading Frodo’s back through his clothing. “After midnight.”
“I am sorry I could not stay longer,” Frodo said.
“Nonsense,” Aragorn said, kissing Frodo’s head. “You did very well.”
Frodo’s recovery had been long and painful, uncertain at times, and three months later, he still was not well. His recovery might be easier if years of Ring-related weaknesses had not battered his body.
“I’m glad you’re back.” Frodo slid his hands behind Aragorn’s neck, smiling, and Aragorn’s heart leaped pleasantly, struck breathless by wonder that after all these years, Frodo’s eyes could still render him dizzy with wanting. His groin warmed and swelled.
Aragorn seized Frodo’s lips in his, tugging the hobbit’s shirt from his breeches and slipping his hands over a smooth, bare chest. A ragged groan escaped his throat, and he realized just how much he had missed Frodo’s touch, ached for the intimacy they had enjoyed before Ellohir.
“No.” Frodo weakly pushed Aragorn’s hand away.
Aragorn released a frustrated sigh. At this rate, Frodo would never allow himself to be touched. For weeks, Aragorn had been too thankful that Frodo had survived his ordeal to resent Frodo’s utter lack of interest in love-making, but now his member was engorged, needing something. His hands, able soldiers as they had been during the past year, could only satisfy for so long. He would never again actually enter Frodo. No, he would never risk Frodo’s life for one moment of pleasure. But there were other ways to take pleasure.
If only Frodo wanted it, wanted *him*.
“No.” Frodo squirmed in Aragorn’s embrace. “Not now. I’m far too weary.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” Aragorn said through tightly clenched teeth. He continued to unbutton Frodo’s shirt, kissing his lips insistently, determined that Frodo should yield, but when he met the hobbit’s eyes, he found them dark with growing annoyance. Aragorn exerted all his will and pulled away, his member still throbbing.
Frodo turned away from Aragorn, breathing quickly. “I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
Aragorn released a tense sigh and squeezed his eyes shut, burying his nose in Frodo’s curls. There was no doubt he was grateful. Frodo’s life was a gift from the Valar. His disinterest in the physical should not hurt Aragorn so much. Frodo was not well, and he had just spent several hours at a social gathering, using all his energy to respond to concern and questions from people he barely knew.
Aragorn pulled Frodo into a gentle embrace, clutching the fabric of the hobbit’s half-open shirt. “I would never ask that of you…but there are other things--”
Ellohir started to cry in the next room. Frodo tensed and moved to climb out of bed, but Aragorn tightened his arms around him. “Let Alia get him.”
“He needs me.”
Though Frodo was securely in his arms, Aragorn’s chest turned cold and hollow as he felt Frodo slip from him. He directed a sudden searing thought toward the infant in the next room. Not only had Ellohir cost Frodo his health, but Frodo would never again belong solely to him.
“*I* need you,” Aragorn said, not caring how desperate his voice sounded. “Ellohir only needs to eat and you cannot provide that.”
With a reluctant sigh, Frodo relaxed, his eyes shut. Aragorn watched the hobbit’s chest rise and fall, much more rapidly than when he had earlier been sleeping so peacefully. Finally he turned back to Aragorn, and his eyes were soft.
“I am sorry, Aragorn.” His hand crept to Aragorn’s breeches, rubbing over his hot, swollen member. “I know I have not been fair.”
Aragorn gripped Frodo’s wrist, startling the hobbit. When Frodo met his gaze, he spoke. “You must stop now if you do not think you will finish.”
“Let go of me,” Frodo said, pulling himself to a kneeling position and crawling between Aragorn’s legs. He eyed Aragorn, and his blue eyes glowed with mischief. “Do you think I would start something I can’t finish?”
“For your sake, Frodo, I hope so…for I do not promise to be noble if you go back on your word.”
Frodo laughed a bit before tugging on the strained laces to Aragorn’s breeches. “Just relax.”
Aragorn could barely endure Frodo’s cool hands caressing his throbbing shaft with far too little pressure. He longed to press Frodo’s hands down, force them to relieve the sweet agony that sent maddening shudders through his body.
Something wet darted over his shaft, causing it to shudder, and he bucked with a loud moan. Frodo clamped his mouth over him, sucking, over and over again, bringing Aragorn nearly to the edge, and then letting him loose.
“Frodo…” Aragorn clutched Frodo’s shoulders, anchoring him into place so that he could no longer let him loose. The intensifying vibration in his groin matched the rhythm of Frodo’s sucking. Aragorn could not suppress his hoarse cries as he clutched the fabric of Frodo’s sleeves, bucking his hips into Frodo’s mouth. He flooded Frodo’s mouth with sweet release, gasping and bucking. Frodo kept him in his mouth as long as he could before he released him with a satisfied smile and wiped his mouth. Still clutching Frodo’s arms, Aragorn pulled the hobbit toward him until he lay on his chest. For many long moments, Aragorn could do nothing but pant for breath, his thighs sticky and moist, his arms wrapped tightly around Frodo. Finally, he tilted the hobbit’s face toward his, and he kissed him with utmost tenderness, tasting himself on Frodo’s breath.
“Was it all right?” Frodo asked.
“Dear Frodo…it far exceeded all right.”
Frodo pulled himself up to lean on his elbows. “I am glad.”
“What about you?” Aragorn asked, though he felt limp and useless. However would he find the energy to return the favor?
“Do not worry about me,” Frodo said, his voice slurred. “I am not…I am very tired.” His eyes closed as if of their own volition.
Aragorn ran his hand through Frodo’s curls, filled with sudden shame. Frodo had already been exhausted from the gathering…and Aragorn had made him feel guilty until he had expended even more energy pleasuring him. Then he asked for nothing in return. Aragorn kissed him again. “Sleep now. I love you so.”
But Frodo was already deeply asleep.
In the next room, Ellohir broke into new whimpering.
“Hush, baby,” Aragorn whispered. “Let us allow our Frodo to sleep.”
Ellohir’s whimpering died away, and Aragorn took advantage of the lull to gently roll Frodo off his chest and tuck him under the covers. Frodo would have to sleep in his clothes because Aragorn had no intention of again disturbing a well deserved rest.
This snippet of TLTW takes place about three months after Ellohir is born.
Disclaimer: Don’t own it. Don’t make money off it.
For Lily, before her break! :-)
Aragorn took off his boots at the door to the chamber and crept to the bed. He smiled as he looked down on the hobbit lying atop the crimson silk covers, fully clothed and in a deep sleep. Color had returned to his too-gaunt cheeks, which, Aragorn thought ruefully, had been helped by the two glasses of wine the hobbit had consumed that night. Frodo still wore a brocaded vest interwoven with silver and gleaming blue threads that brought out a blue in Frodo’s eyes to rival Elvish sapphires. This night had been Frodo’s first appearance at a social gathering since Ellohir’s birth. He had endured nearly two hours of well wishers and people curious about the birth –- and all with a smile -- before he had bid everyone a good night.
Aragorn crawled onto the bed and curled up against Frodo, who opened his eyes and yawned. “Has everyone left?” he murmured, turning to snuggle against Aragorn’s chest. “What is the time?”
Aragorn nodded, kneading Frodo’s back through his clothing. “After midnight.”
“I am sorry I could not stay longer,” Frodo said.
“Nonsense,” Aragorn said, kissing Frodo’s head. “You did very well.”
Frodo’s recovery had been long and painful, uncertain at times, and three months later, he still was not well. His recovery might be easier if years of Ring-related weaknesses had not battered his body.
“I’m glad you’re back.” Frodo slid his hands behind Aragorn’s neck, smiling, and Aragorn’s heart leaped pleasantly, struck breathless by wonder that after all these years, Frodo’s eyes could still render him dizzy with wanting. His groin warmed and swelled.
Aragorn seized Frodo’s lips in his, tugging the hobbit’s shirt from his breeches and slipping his hands over a smooth, bare chest. A ragged groan escaped his throat, and he realized just how much he had missed Frodo’s touch, ached for the intimacy they had enjoyed before Ellohir.
“No.” Frodo weakly pushed Aragorn’s hand away.
Aragorn released a frustrated sigh. At this rate, Frodo would never allow himself to be touched. For weeks, Aragorn had been too thankful that Frodo had survived his ordeal to resent Frodo’s utter lack of interest in love-making, but now his member was engorged, needing something. His hands, able soldiers as they had been during the past year, could only satisfy for so long. He would never again actually enter Frodo. No, he would never risk Frodo’s life for one moment of pleasure. But there were other ways to take pleasure.
If only Frodo wanted it, wanted *him*.
“No.” Frodo squirmed in Aragorn’s embrace. “Not now. I’m far too weary.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” Aragorn said through tightly clenched teeth. He continued to unbutton Frodo’s shirt, kissing his lips insistently, determined that Frodo should yield, but when he met the hobbit’s eyes, he found them dark with growing annoyance. Aragorn exerted all his will and pulled away, his member still throbbing.
Frodo turned away from Aragorn, breathing quickly. “I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
Aragorn released a tense sigh and squeezed his eyes shut, burying his nose in Frodo’s curls. There was no doubt he was grateful. Frodo’s life was a gift from the Valar. His disinterest in the physical should not hurt Aragorn so much. Frodo was not well, and he had just spent several hours at a social gathering, using all his energy to respond to concern and questions from people he barely knew.
Aragorn pulled Frodo into a gentle embrace, clutching the fabric of the hobbit’s half-open shirt. “I would never ask that of you…but there are other things--”
Ellohir started to cry in the next room. Frodo tensed and moved to climb out of bed, but Aragorn tightened his arms around him. “Let Alia get him.”
“He needs me.”
Though Frodo was securely in his arms, Aragorn’s chest turned cold and hollow as he felt Frodo slip from him. He directed a sudden searing thought toward the infant in the next room. Not only had Ellohir cost Frodo his health, but Frodo would never again belong solely to him.
“*I* need you,” Aragorn said, not caring how desperate his voice sounded. “Ellohir only needs to eat and you cannot provide that.”
With a reluctant sigh, Frodo relaxed, his eyes shut. Aragorn watched the hobbit’s chest rise and fall, much more rapidly than when he had earlier been sleeping so peacefully. Finally he turned back to Aragorn, and his eyes were soft.
“I am sorry, Aragorn.” His hand crept to Aragorn’s breeches, rubbing over his hot, swollen member. “I know I have not been fair.”
Aragorn gripped Frodo’s wrist, startling the hobbit. When Frodo met his gaze, he spoke. “You must stop now if you do not think you will finish.”
“Let go of me,” Frodo said, pulling himself to a kneeling position and crawling between Aragorn’s legs. He eyed Aragorn, and his blue eyes glowed with mischief. “Do you think I would start something I can’t finish?”
“For your sake, Frodo, I hope so…for I do not promise to be noble if you go back on your word.”
Frodo laughed a bit before tugging on the strained laces to Aragorn’s breeches. “Just relax.”
Aragorn could barely endure Frodo’s cool hands caressing his throbbing shaft with far too little pressure. He longed to press Frodo’s hands down, force them to relieve the sweet agony that sent maddening shudders through his body.
Something wet darted over his shaft, causing it to shudder, and he bucked with a loud moan. Frodo clamped his mouth over him, sucking, over and over again, bringing Aragorn nearly to the edge, and then letting him loose.
“Frodo…” Aragorn clutched Frodo’s shoulders, anchoring him into place so that he could no longer let him loose. The intensifying vibration in his groin matched the rhythm of Frodo’s sucking. Aragorn could not suppress his hoarse cries as he clutched the fabric of Frodo’s sleeves, bucking his hips into Frodo’s mouth. He flooded Frodo’s mouth with sweet release, gasping and bucking. Frodo kept him in his mouth as long as he could before he released him with a satisfied smile and wiped his mouth. Still clutching Frodo’s arms, Aragorn pulled the hobbit toward him until he lay on his chest. For many long moments, Aragorn could do nothing but pant for breath, his thighs sticky and moist, his arms wrapped tightly around Frodo. Finally, he tilted the hobbit’s face toward his, and he kissed him with utmost tenderness, tasting himself on Frodo’s breath.
“Was it all right?” Frodo asked.
“Dear Frodo…it far exceeded all right.”
Frodo pulled himself up to lean on his elbows. “I am glad.”
“What about you?” Aragorn asked, though he felt limp and useless. However would he find the energy to return the favor?
“Do not worry about me,” Frodo said, his voice slurred. “I am not…I am very tired.” His eyes closed as if of their own volition.
Aragorn ran his hand through Frodo’s curls, filled with sudden shame. Frodo had already been exhausted from the gathering…and Aragorn had made him feel guilty until he had expended even more energy pleasuring him. Then he asked for nothing in return. Aragorn kissed him again. “Sleep now. I love you so.”
But Frodo was already deeply asleep.
In the next room, Ellohir broke into new whimpering.
“Hush, baby,” Aragorn whispered. “Let us allow our Frodo to sleep.”
Ellohir’s whimpering died away, and Aragorn took advantage of the lull to gently roll Frodo off his chest and tuck him under the covers. Frodo would have to sleep in his clothes because Aragorn had no intention of again disturbing a well deserved rest.
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Date: 2003-03-11 09:01 pm (UTC)My, but are you *sure* you don't have children? You seem to have caught what I know, from my friends who have kids, many mothers feel! Poor Frodo... but ah, I'm so glad Aragorn got his release, because I was feeling rather sorry for him.
Well, I'm off to bed in a minute... but bless you for posting... I'll read it again and again, digesting every little word... :)
no subject
Date: 2003-03-12 06:23 am (UTC)Yumyumyumyumyumyumyum!!!!
A! Elbereth
Re: Yumyumyumyumyumyumyum!!!!
Date: 2003-03-12 06:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-03-11 10:01 pm (UTC)Re:
Date: 2003-03-12 06:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-25 05:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-25 10:37 pm (UTC)