There is an NC-17 version of this linked through my profile. I tried to rewrite this to R, let me know if I failed miserably.
"Legolas," Aragorn called calmly. The elf looked up warily. "Would you gather some firewood?" Legolas froze, remembering too well what had happened the last time he'd gone out for wood. "I could ask one of the Hobbits, but I'm afraid they're all asleep." His voice lowered as he crouched beside the silent elf. "And they're so small, so fragile…" He broke off with a short laugh as the elf bolted into the forest.
Boromir was waiting when Aragorn arrived. He'd caught the wary elf, managing to damage him only slightly while subduing him. Now the pale form was stripped to the waist, his wrists bound at shoulder length to a sturdy branch above him, his legs secured. He was unconscious.
Aragorn admired his lover's work, trailing a finger down the elf's bare chest before crushing his lover to him. Their lips met fiercely, inflamed by their plans. Their proceedings left them both breathless and shirtless by the time the elf began to stir.
Boromir went to the bound elf. He'd gagged him, so did not fear him crying out. The Man stood and admired the pale body, before leaning in and touching the tip of his tongue to the elf's nipple. He was pleased by the elf's involuntary reaction, even as the elf tried to pull away. He grabbed the elf by the throat, holding him still as he bent his attentions to his body. Aragorn laughed beside him and bent to the other nipple. Legolas writhed beneath the dual onslaught, in pain or pleasure even he could not have said. The Men were fondling him through his clothing, and he felt his body betray him once again. He sought to pull his mind away, but the torment continued, reached back into his memory and drew out the other attack, multiplied it, and overcame him. Tears leaked down his cheeks.
The Men noticed. "Why, I don't think he's enjoying himself much," Boromir smirked. He reached down to unlace the elf's pants, leaving his lover to work on the elf's upper body. The Men could feel the elf's struggles, could almost smell his fear. The crystal tears continued to flow down his perfect cheeks.
Boromir stood, leaving the elf unsated. "You know, my dear, I think he might be happier if he were more 'in the middle of things', so to speak." Aragorn grinned in response, helping his lover finish undressing the squirming elf, then pulled a small box from his pocket.
"You may not recognize this," the Ranger said conversationally as he removed a small pinch of pale green powder from the box. He held his open palm below the elf's nose, seeing the pale blue eyes focus briefly on the palmfull before he blew the dust into the archer's face. "It has two major effects. You may have noticed that one is complete paralysis. The other, well…" Aragorn ran a fingernail down the elf's chest and flicked at a nipple, rewarded with a swift intake of breath. "Extreme sensitivity." The tears multiplied on the elf's face, the only reaction he could have.
The Men laughed as they fondled and caressed both their victim and each other. In their fevered state, actions which should have been nearly excruciating were merely exciting- for them, anyway.
Legolas cowered in a small corner of his mind. He could feel the pain of unprepared entry, the rough friction until his blood provided lubrication, then the torture of pressure on open wounds. He could hear them, see them, feel all too well as they took their pleasure from his unresponsive body. Aragorn laughed and licked a tear off the elf's cheek as he thrust forward. "Our sweet little elf is bitter too, hmm?"
Legolas fought the paralysis and won a small victory. He was able to close his eyes against their assault.
