The Taste of Death
By Angaaldaien
Summary: A teaser, if you will.
Pairing: Boromir/Legolas
Rating: R
Warnings: PWPish
Notes: I have a plot that would explain the title, but will probably not be expanded upon.
I just like how the beginning came out.
He withdrew from the contact, but greedy hands found him again.
It seared his skin pleasurably, and that was not allowed. The forbidden aspect of it
appealed to him, and he would reject it with force, if he had the choice to. But
Legolas' choice had been deprived him, by the very being that gave him that pleasure,
who provoked the low moans from deep within his throat, who pierced him with pain and
delight, and then left him with nothing more than weariness. The very thought of a
man's hands on his body would have, simply months ago, provoked pure disgust. But
things had changed so drastically that months ago seemed like ages, and to elves that is
much longer than the human perceived age'.
That was why Legolas had allowed himself to be bound and held, by the mere trappings of
Boromir's leather belt. His body shivered with the sensations running through every
nerve, and Legolas' mind felt itself slip from its firm base, closer to the edge of
collapse. It was unknown to Legolas if Boromir had seen his need to be helpless, for
Legolas himself did not foresee this need. But it was there, seeking to be fulfilled.
The man completed his business with the elf, and undid the belt, rolling over in the
process so Legolas could leave if he wished. Instead, Legolas moved towards the leaving
warmth, eager to continue the contact. Both bodies heaved evidencing the recent exertion,
the light sheen of sweat running over their bodies running tracts down into the rocks.
Boromir watched the elf's rapid breaths begin to slow, and pulled his cloak over the
their bodies.
They lay sleeping, the rise and fall of their breath the only movement to betray their
life.
It was much time before Aragorn rose to leave, disturbed from his reverie by the keening
cry echoing somewhere down the halls or Moria. Inside, the two exhausted bodies stirred,
aware of the sound. We must go, Legolas warned Boromir, who did nothing more
but hold him tighter.
Why must we go, Boromir returned, no more a question than a reason to dally.
It is not safe.
It was never safe, elf. Nevertheless, Boromir arose.
Wordlessly the two rejoined the group.