Ai, Gimli!

It was night and the Fellowship had set ashore the west border of the Anduin to rest of the long journey until early morning came.

Aragorn was not sleeping yet, sitting on a rock, smoking a pipe, an angry look on his face.

His face nearly turned red of rage (and envy) when he started to hear the soft voice of Legolas, coming from the comfortable bed of grass behind the near bushes.

"Oh, Gimli! Yes! That's great...!"

There they were again. Ever since they parted from Lothlórien Gimli made it to him every night.

"Oh! More! More!"

Aragorn covered his ears with his hands. What an injustice! Before, he had the dwarf for himself alone, and now, ever since that two became so good friends, Gimli made it to Legolas first and then to him. "And it is the same no more!" - thought Aragorn - ", because after finishing Legolas, Gimli is already tired for my turn! I can't take any pleasure of it!"

Aragorn had asked Gimli to make it to him first, but the dwarf had said that Legolas's was softer, and that he would rather begin with him to warm up.

The sound of skin against skin, rubbing strongly, ceased a moment.

"Don't stop! Don't ever stop! Ai, Gimli! Please..."

Aragorn heard a groan from Gimli, and his gruffy voice. "Arg, Legolas! I'm out of breath! Give me at least a second to regain it."

The sweet sound began again, and so the moans and cries of the elf.

Aragorn started to get impatient. Sure, he could ask it to someone else, but... He turned to look at the others: Merry and Pippin had Boromir captivated a long time ago and they were already on it, as every night. "An odd trio they make!" - thought the ranger, watching it the dark the robust silhouette of Boromir moving, his hands (one for each one of them) giving the pleasure the hobbits wanted. Sam and Frodo were not vacant for him: the good Sam was always willing to please his master, and they were already on it, too. And Gandalf... well, he was too old for that, you know what I mean.

"Oh! Aye! Aye!" - was still Legolas moaning.

Aragorn covered his ears again. At least, the other five companions were more quiet; their only sound made was the skin against skin, and sometimes very soft moans of pleasure.

"Oh! More! Oh, more! ¡Gimli! Oh!"

Aragorn got to his feet and started walking impatiently from one side to another, a ring of pipe-weed smoke blowing away his mouth with each step. After all, it was completely normal that Legolas, unlike the others, moaned this way: Aragorn had never met someone that could make it as good as Gimli: the incredible force which the dwarf rocked... the desire in him, showing that he enjoyed it too.

"Oooohh... Yes!"

Gimli started to sigh of tire. That's it! Aragorn couldn't take it anymore. He ran to them. If Gimli continued like this, he would be too tired for his turn.

"Ai, Gimli..."

It was dark, but Aragorn could see the silhouette of the dwarf moving back and forth, riding Legolas, who was facing the floor. With every Gimli's strong shove the dwarf sighed, his hands trying to give all the pleasure he could to the elf.

Aragorn stood in front of them, crossing arms against his chest and frowning. "Stop it, Gimli!" - he said - "Stop massaging Legolas's back! It's my turn!"

A/N: Hi everybody! I just wanted to let you know that I'm Spanish; please forgive my grammatical mistakes. I would be very thankful if you would tell me of them, so I could correct them.
Hope you liked this fic!