sandrasugar
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"Torture and Revelations" or my fave lotr from the net
Been looking for this one EVERYWHERE and I found in on an archive (Library of Moria) and in the spirit of TTT here it is!
Torture and Revelations
Legolas drowsily awoke to the gentle dragging of
Aragorn’s fingers on his back. Up and down. Up and
down. As he gained a little more consciousness he
began break out into little shivers from slow
scraping.
“Hmmmmmm” the elf sighed into the satin pillow case.
Aragorn’s bed was filled with the scent of him as he
did this. It would have been for him easy to fall into
a lovely fog of sweet sensation then, completely at
ease with the soothing fingertips of his mortal king
and his presence. Up and down went the fingers and all
was right in Legolas’ world.
Then, a slight change in the pace and pressure of the
fingertips that chased invisible lines down the elf’s
back brought a sudden squirm to the lithe figure.
Aragorn, seated beside his lover on the bed, smiled
knowingly.
Until this point, Legolas hadn’t moved since he began
to awaken. As he attempted it now he realized that he
was in bondage. While that would alarm him under any
other circumstances it did little to phase the elf. In
fact he smiled inwardly for he and Aragorn had often
used the king’s four-post bed and soft leather cuffs
for their own personal pleasure.
Legolas shifted a bit on the bed and relaxed again,
forgetting the odd change in the fingers. Again
Aragorn’s fingers made a slow teasing pass up and down
the elf’s back. This time however, he continued. Up
and down.
Legolas squirmed and buried his head a little in the
pillow, his golden hair falling forward as he did so.
“Aragorn, you’re tickling” he whispered, his voice
strained a little from surpressing an undignified
giggle.
Again, Aragorn smiled. Instead of returning to his
soothing strokes on Legolas’ back, he continued his
current ministrations.
The light tickling sensations were getting to Legolas.
He didn’t want to get up however, he’d rather Aragorn
lay with him some more. He had decided that by not
giving into the ticklish feelings he stood more of a
chance of not having to get up and ruin the sleepy and
content haze he had been enjoying.
Up and down. Legolas was smiling foolishly into the
pillow. He could still half enjoy this, he decided,
when the fingers began to scribble as they dragged
across his back. The added sensation felt like tiny
insects tickling up and down his spine.
“Aragorn, stop it.” Legolas giggled outright and
began squirming more visibly.
When the tickling fingers added the back of his
sensitive neck and shoulders to their path, his
struggles intensified more so. “Ay! It t-t-t-ickles!”
His squirming and giggles continued for several more
minutes before Aragorn stopped his teasing. Confused
and breathless, Legolas began to say something but was
quickly silenced by a damp cloth being held to his
mouth and nose. He felt panic and confusion rising in
unison but was fast asleep before he could form a
single thought.
When he awoke again, Legolas was naked and still bound
to Aragorn’s bed, only this time he was face up and
spread eagle. Aragorn towered above him, a triumphant
smirk on his face.
“Release me.” The elf demanded of the man, blue eyes
piercing him with a look of disapproval. “That was
unkind of you, Aragorn. You know how I hate that.”
Aragorn looked down at his elf prince, tied and
helpless, and yet still so apt to sulk and make
demands. He did love him, and as much as he loved him,
and as much tenderness as the shared, he still could
not move past this one thing… He wondered briefly if
his Elven prince had any inkling as to what was going
on. No, he decided, he has only one thing on his mind
right now. Escape. He knew that Legolas trusted him.
Beyond question. Trusted him with his life. Of course
Legolas was expecting to be released abruptly. He
trusted that when he was firm enough Aragorn would
obey. But, he thought, this was not entirely a matter
of trust.
“Release me.” Legolas said again crossly, and looked
up at the ceiling, annoyed.
Aragorn didn’t answer him with words. Instead he
climbed atop his elf and straddled his waist, and bent
over to kiss him on the lips. Legolas relaxed as they
kissed, even more when he felt Aragorn move his hands
to his bound wrists. As Aragorn pulled his lips away,
a mischievous twinkle in his eye, Legolas, expecting
his arms to be free, attempted to follow his lover‘s
mouth. Satisfaction that had rested in the elf’s eyes
turned rapidly to confusion and then irritation and
anger.
“I said -” he began, and was cut of as Aragorn’s
finger tips began tracing down the length of his
outstretched arms, agonizingly slow. Legolas stiffened
and shut his eyes against the sensations. As Aragorn
teased the inside of the skilled archer’s elbows,
Legolas began to whimper and shake his head on the
satin pillow.
When the fingers began to descend closer towards the
archer’s under arms, he broke out into a small series
of giggles and fought to regain control although he
began to tug at his bonds.
Aragorn watched his lover closely. He’d tickled
Legolas briefly on several occasions, sometimes
without a reaction from his not so ticklish spots, and
other times he’d been rewarded with a very un-elvish
squeal or shriek when he found more ticklish targets.
Whenever he’d attempted to catch the fair elf
off-guard however, no matter where he’d tickled
Legolas always seemed to lock his arms down straight.
It didn’t matter if Aragorn had attacked his sensitive
neck, ticklish sides or stomach. Legolas, it seemed,
was always attempting to subtly protect another
terribly ticklish target. Aragorn’s smile broadened.
Of course, the archer was extremely skilled with a bow
and arrow. His arms were decorated with finely toned
muscles that suited his flawlessly beautiful frame
perfectly. His hands, his fingers, his biceps,
triceps, all of it….they were his tools in defense,
*one* of his chief methods of lovemaking, and, Aragorn
suspected, a very, very sensitive spot for the elf.
“No! Stop!” Legolas’ cry of laughter and pleading
brought Aragorn out of his thoughts and back to his
reality. His fingers were deftly running back and
forth over his captive lover’s biceps. Legolas was in
a near frenzied state. He was sweating for once,
panting, squirming, and having abandoned the pretense
of composure, laughing in a voice two octaves higher
than his own. “Stop this now!”
Aragorn paused his tickling. Relieved, Legolas panted
for air, but was not released. “Let me go, Aragorn.”
He said firmly in between deep breaths. ”You are being
childish and undignified.”
Aragorn couldn’t hide the smirk that spread across
his face. “Undignified?” he mused. “I suppose my
prince, that I am behaving as childish and undignified
as you are.” He emphasized his point by quickly
scribbling a tickling finger under the elf’s chin.
A very childish “Eeep!” escaped the elf before he
could try and pin the finger with his chin. He
continued to “Eeep” and gasp and the single digit
tickled around his neck and shoulders.
“Stop it!” Legolas cried again, closing his eyes and
scrunching his face as he fought the urge to dissolve
into giggles. When he opened them again he saw that
Aragorn’s other hand had busied itself producing a
small white feather and it quickly replaced the
tickling hand.
“Stop what, Legolas?” Aragorn queried innocently as
he used the small plume to tease the elf’s neck.
“S-s-toop-p that!” he sputtered as the feather began
to seek new ground around his extremely sensitive
ears. “Ay! No!!”
“Say it.” Aragorn said patiently as he tickled the
edges of Legolas’ ears.
“Torture! Stop!” Legolas trashed in his bonds.
“Say it.” Aragorn repeated as he teased the
hypersensitive point.
Legolas shrieked. His back acrhed and he cried, “Stop
tickling me!” before collapsing into tortured giggles.
He tried to shake his head away but was rewarded by
Aragorn repeating the tickling on the other ear. He
shook and squealed from time to time, all the while
screaming in his mind for Aragorn to stop.
“Stop! Mercy!” he cried finally, resorting to
pleading with his fiendish lover.
“Why do you hate this so, Legolas?” Aragorn asked,
ignoring the elf’s cries for mercy.
Legolas could not form an answer admidst the horrible
giggles and he feared he was about to go insane when
the torment of his ticklish ears stopped.
“Ah, Aragorn, thank the Gods you -” he began but
caught his breath in his throat when he felt the
cursed fingertips back at the dreaded spot above his
under arms.
“Why do you hate this so, Legolas?” Aragorn asked
again, looking the poor elf in the eyes.
Confused and teary eyed, with his crown of golden
hair matted to his face with sweat, he searched the
man’s dark eyes for a sign of reassurance that it was
over. “B-because….” he stammered.
“Yes?” Aragorn’s eyebrows arched in anticipation and
his fingers stood poised above their targets.
“B-because…”
Aragorn’s impatience got the better of him. “No
stalling.” he said abruptly and began to attack
Legolas’ under arms with light, nimble tickling
fingers.
Legolas screamed. He arched his back until Aragorn
was sure it would snap and then he fell back down to
the bed and began to buck and thrash. He screamed
again as Aragorn drilled his thumbs into his lower
under arm and then began to laugh harder and more
helplessly than he had ever done in his life. Tear
flowed from his eyes and were lost in his golden hair
and the sweat-drenched sheets. He twisted, coughed,
squealed and howled. When he had the air, he begged.
“Aragorn! AHHHHHHHHHHH--ay! Please!!! P-p-plleeeasseee!
Sttahhpp!”
Aragorn was thrilled. It was a charge to have Legolas
so helpless. To have him weakened to the state of
begging. Then he felt oddly sick at the thought of
enjoying the sight of his lover’s torture. Surely this
was the ultimate torture for the elf. And yet….he
wanted to show Legolas how it felt. He needed to
understand. He needed to make his point.
He slowed his tickling gradually until he only
dragged his fingertips lazily through the underarms in
slow, teasing passes. Still, it was enough to keep
Legolas breathlessly giggling and disoriented.
“Answer me now, Legolas. Why do you hate this so?”
“B-b-b-because……….” he managed between giggles, “itt
t-t-ticklles!”
“Wrong.”
“Aragorn please!!” the elf begged.
“Wrong again.” Aragorn continued his teasing strokes
through the elf’s most ticklish spots. Up and down.
Legolas had stopped fighting several minutes ago and
lay almost perfectly still, giggling and desperate.
Confusion began to clear in his head and he finally
managed.
“B-b-b-b-b-because I can’t stand it!”
Up and down.
“B--b-because I can’t think! PLEASE!”
Up and down.
“You are close Legolas.” Aragorn said evenly. “Why
does that distress you? How do you feel?”
Up and down.
“Please! I can’t - ay!! It’s torture! I feel…..Please
Arargon!! I’m helpless!!!!”
It stopped.
Aragorn looked at Legolas square in the face. Their
eyes locked in grave understanding. “Exactly.” Aragorn
said purposefully.
“And that is how I feel every time I see you and
Borormir together. Don’t think that I haven’t noticed.
The way you look at him….” Aragorn was babbling.
Heated, angery babble.
Legolas had been panting until then but now he was
silent and shocked.
“Aragorn….” he breathed. Now he understood.
“I cannot make you stay with me Legolas.” Aragorn
continued. “I see how he looks at you. How they all
look at you. When you enter the banquet hall, or we
are on a hunt… Their eyes. Your eyes… To think that I
once believed that I could keep you. That you could
love -” He was cut off.
“Aragorn you are a fiend and a fool.” Legolas said
gravely. Aragorn blinked and stared wonderingly into
the elf’s eyes.
“I stay with you because it is what I choose. True,
Borormir and I had feelings for one another once.
Feelings we were foolish to act on. Aragorn, that was
not love. That was not what you and I share. That was
fleeting. Weakness! The fickle feelings of one
lustful man for a foolish elf. I am yours. Do not
doubt that my love. My King.” Then he paused and
repeated with an intense meaningful gaze, “I am
yours.”
Aragorn’s eyes filled with tears. What a fool he had
been!
Forgetting about the bound state of his lover he
flung himself onto him and proceeded to shower the
exhausted elf with kisses. Once unbound, the two
shared in their bedchamber a night that neither would
ever forget. One filled with love and promise. But in
the shadows at the far corner of the room, another set
of eyes watched the two. From the crack in the secret
panel, Borormir made some secret promises of his own.
First and foremost, “Foolish and lustful? Is that the
way of it now my Elven prince? Well, now thanks to
your sweet Aragorn, I think it is now time for me to
explore your apparent weakness.” Borormir closed the
panel and stalked down the corridor to his own chamber
to prepare. “Who would have thought that the lightest
tickling touch could bring an elf to his knees?”
The End
Been looking for this one EVERYWHERE and I found in on an archive (Library of Moria) and in the spirit of TTT here it is!
Torture and Revelations
Legolas drowsily awoke to the gentle dragging of
Aragorn’s fingers on his back. Up and down. Up and
down. As he gained a little more consciousness he
began break out into little shivers from slow
scraping.
“Hmmmmmm” the elf sighed into the satin pillow case.
Aragorn’s bed was filled with the scent of him as he
did this. It would have been for him easy to fall into
a lovely fog of sweet sensation then, completely at
ease with the soothing fingertips of his mortal king
and his presence. Up and down went the fingers and all
was right in Legolas’ world.
Then, a slight change in the pace and pressure of the
fingertips that chased invisible lines down the elf’s
back brought a sudden squirm to the lithe figure.
Aragorn, seated beside his lover on the bed, smiled
knowingly.
Until this point, Legolas hadn’t moved since he began
to awaken. As he attempted it now he realized that he
was in bondage. While that would alarm him under any
other circumstances it did little to phase the elf. In
fact he smiled inwardly for he and Aragorn had often
used the king’s four-post bed and soft leather cuffs
for their own personal pleasure.
Legolas shifted a bit on the bed and relaxed again,
forgetting the odd change in the fingers. Again
Aragorn’s fingers made a slow teasing pass up and down
the elf’s back. This time however, he continued. Up
and down.
Legolas squirmed and buried his head a little in the
pillow, his golden hair falling forward as he did so.
“Aragorn, you’re tickling” he whispered, his voice
strained a little from surpressing an undignified
giggle.
Again, Aragorn smiled. Instead of returning to his
soothing strokes on Legolas’ back, he continued his
current ministrations.
The light tickling sensations were getting to Legolas.
He didn’t want to get up however, he’d rather Aragorn
lay with him some more. He had decided that by not
giving into the ticklish feelings he stood more of a
chance of not having to get up and ruin the sleepy and
content haze he had been enjoying.
Up and down. Legolas was smiling foolishly into the
pillow. He could still half enjoy this, he decided,
when the fingers began to scribble as they dragged
across his back. The added sensation felt like tiny
insects tickling up and down his spine.
“Aragorn, stop it.” Legolas giggled outright and
began squirming more visibly.
When the tickling fingers added the back of his
sensitive neck and shoulders to their path, his
struggles intensified more so. “Ay! It t-t-t-ickles!”
His squirming and giggles continued for several more
minutes before Aragorn stopped his teasing. Confused
and breathless, Legolas began to say something but was
quickly silenced by a damp cloth being held to his
mouth and nose. He felt panic and confusion rising in
unison but was fast asleep before he could form a
single thought.
When he awoke again, Legolas was naked and still bound
to Aragorn’s bed, only this time he was face up and
spread eagle. Aragorn towered above him, a triumphant
smirk on his face.
“Release me.” The elf demanded of the man, blue eyes
piercing him with a look of disapproval. “That was
unkind of you, Aragorn. You know how I hate that.”
Aragorn looked down at his elf prince, tied and
helpless, and yet still so apt to sulk and make
demands. He did love him, and as much as he loved him,
and as much tenderness as the shared, he still could
not move past this one thing… He wondered briefly if
his Elven prince had any inkling as to what was going
on. No, he decided, he has only one thing on his mind
right now. Escape. He knew that Legolas trusted him.
Beyond question. Trusted him with his life. Of course
Legolas was expecting to be released abruptly. He
trusted that when he was firm enough Aragorn would
obey. But, he thought, this was not entirely a matter
of trust.
“Release me.” Legolas said again crossly, and looked
up at the ceiling, annoyed.
Aragorn didn’t answer him with words. Instead he
climbed atop his elf and straddled his waist, and bent
over to kiss him on the lips. Legolas relaxed as they
kissed, even more when he felt Aragorn move his hands
to his bound wrists. As Aragorn pulled his lips away,
a mischievous twinkle in his eye, Legolas, expecting
his arms to be free, attempted to follow his lover‘s
mouth. Satisfaction that had rested in the elf’s eyes
turned rapidly to confusion and then irritation and
anger.
“I said -” he began, and was cut of as Aragorn’s
finger tips began tracing down the length of his
outstretched arms, agonizingly slow. Legolas stiffened
and shut his eyes against the sensations. As Aragorn
teased the inside of the skilled archer’s elbows,
Legolas began to whimper and shake his head on the
satin pillow.
When the fingers began to descend closer towards the
archer’s under arms, he broke out into a small series
of giggles and fought to regain control although he
began to tug at his bonds.
Aragorn watched his lover closely. He’d tickled
Legolas briefly on several occasions, sometimes
without a reaction from his not so ticklish spots, and
other times he’d been rewarded with a very un-elvish
squeal or shriek when he found more ticklish targets.
Whenever he’d attempted to catch the fair elf
off-guard however, no matter where he’d tickled
Legolas always seemed to lock his arms down straight.
It didn’t matter if Aragorn had attacked his sensitive
neck, ticklish sides or stomach. Legolas, it seemed,
was always attempting to subtly protect another
terribly ticklish target. Aragorn’s smile broadened.
Of course, the archer was extremely skilled with a bow
and arrow. His arms were decorated with finely toned
muscles that suited his flawlessly beautiful frame
perfectly. His hands, his fingers, his biceps,
triceps, all of it….they were his tools in defense,
*one* of his chief methods of lovemaking, and, Aragorn
suspected, a very, very sensitive spot for the elf.
“No! Stop!” Legolas’ cry of laughter and pleading
brought Aragorn out of his thoughts and back to his
reality. His fingers were deftly running back and
forth over his captive lover’s biceps. Legolas was in
a near frenzied state. He was sweating for once,
panting, squirming, and having abandoned the pretense
of composure, laughing in a voice two octaves higher
than his own. “Stop this now!”
Aragorn paused his tickling. Relieved, Legolas panted
for air, but was not released. “Let me go, Aragorn.”
He said firmly in between deep breaths. ”You are being
childish and undignified.”
Aragorn couldn’t hide the smirk that spread across
his face. “Undignified?” he mused. “I suppose my
prince, that I am behaving as childish and undignified
as you are.” He emphasized his point by quickly
scribbling a tickling finger under the elf’s chin.
A very childish “Eeep!” escaped the elf before he
could try and pin the finger with his chin. He
continued to “Eeep” and gasp and the single digit
tickled around his neck and shoulders.
“Stop it!” Legolas cried again, closing his eyes and
scrunching his face as he fought the urge to dissolve
into giggles. When he opened them again he saw that
Aragorn’s other hand had busied itself producing a
small white feather and it quickly replaced the
tickling hand.
“Stop what, Legolas?” Aragorn queried innocently as
he used the small plume to tease the elf’s neck.
“S-s-toop-p that!” he sputtered as the feather began
to seek new ground around his extremely sensitive
ears. “Ay! No!!”
“Say it.” Aragorn said patiently as he tickled the
edges of Legolas’ ears.
“Torture! Stop!” Legolas trashed in his bonds.
“Say it.” Aragorn repeated as he teased the
hypersensitive point.
Legolas shrieked. His back acrhed and he cried, “Stop
tickling me!” before collapsing into tortured giggles.
He tried to shake his head away but was rewarded by
Aragorn repeating the tickling on the other ear. He
shook and squealed from time to time, all the while
screaming in his mind for Aragorn to stop.
“Stop! Mercy!” he cried finally, resorting to
pleading with his fiendish lover.
“Why do you hate this so, Legolas?” Aragorn asked,
ignoring the elf’s cries for mercy.
Legolas could not form an answer admidst the horrible
giggles and he feared he was about to go insane when
the torment of his ticklish ears stopped.
“Ah, Aragorn, thank the Gods you -” he began but
caught his breath in his throat when he felt the
cursed fingertips back at the dreaded spot above his
under arms.
“Why do you hate this so, Legolas?” Aragorn asked
again, looking the poor elf in the eyes.
Confused and teary eyed, with his crown of golden
hair matted to his face with sweat, he searched the
man’s dark eyes for a sign of reassurance that it was
over. “B-because….” he stammered.
“Yes?” Aragorn’s eyebrows arched in anticipation and
his fingers stood poised above their targets.
“B-because…”
Aragorn’s impatience got the better of him. “No
stalling.” he said abruptly and began to attack
Legolas’ under arms with light, nimble tickling
fingers.
Legolas screamed. He arched his back until Aragorn
was sure it would snap and then he fell back down to
the bed and began to buck and thrash. He screamed
again as Aragorn drilled his thumbs into his lower
under arm and then began to laugh harder and more
helplessly than he had ever done in his life. Tear
flowed from his eyes and were lost in his golden hair
and the sweat-drenched sheets. He twisted, coughed,
squealed and howled. When he had the air, he begged.
“Aragorn! AHHHHHHHHHHH--ay! Please!!! P-p-plleeeasseee!
Sttahhpp!”
Aragorn was thrilled. It was a charge to have Legolas
so helpless. To have him weakened to the state of
begging. Then he felt oddly sick at the thought of
enjoying the sight of his lover’s torture. Surely this
was the ultimate torture for the elf. And yet….he
wanted to show Legolas how it felt. He needed to
understand. He needed to make his point.
He slowed his tickling gradually until he only
dragged his fingertips lazily through the underarms in
slow, teasing passes. Still, it was enough to keep
Legolas breathlessly giggling and disoriented.
“Answer me now, Legolas. Why do you hate this so?”
“B-b-b-because……….” he managed between giggles, “itt
t-t-ticklles!”
“Wrong.”
“Aragorn please!!” the elf begged.
“Wrong again.” Aragorn continued his teasing strokes
through the elf’s most ticklish spots. Up and down.
Legolas had stopped fighting several minutes ago and
lay almost perfectly still, giggling and desperate.
Confusion began to clear in his head and he finally
managed.
“B-b-b-b-b-because I can’t stand it!”
Up and down.
“B--b-because I can’t think! PLEASE!”
Up and down.
“You are close Legolas.” Aragorn said evenly. “Why
does that distress you? How do you feel?”
Up and down.
“Please! I can’t - ay!! It’s torture! I feel…..Please
Arargon!! I’m helpless!!!!”
It stopped.
Aragorn looked at Legolas square in the face. Their
eyes locked in grave understanding. “Exactly.” Aragorn
said purposefully.
“And that is how I feel every time I see you and
Borormir together. Don’t think that I haven’t noticed.
The way you look at him….” Aragorn was babbling.
Heated, angery babble.
Legolas had been panting until then but now he was
silent and shocked.
“Aragorn….” he breathed. Now he understood.
“I cannot make you stay with me Legolas.” Aragorn
continued. “I see how he looks at you. How they all
look at you. When you enter the banquet hall, or we
are on a hunt… Their eyes. Your eyes… To think that I
once believed that I could keep you. That you could
love -” He was cut off.
“Aragorn you are a fiend and a fool.” Legolas said
gravely. Aragorn blinked and stared wonderingly into
the elf’s eyes.
“I stay with you because it is what I choose. True,
Borormir and I had feelings for one another once.
Feelings we were foolish to act on. Aragorn, that was
not love. That was not what you and I share. That was
fleeting. Weakness! The fickle feelings of one
lustful man for a foolish elf. I am yours. Do not
doubt that my love. My King.” Then he paused and
repeated with an intense meaningful gaze, “I am
yours.”
Aragorn’s eyes filled with tears. What a fool he had
been!
Forgetting about the bound state of his lover he
flung himself onto him and proceeded to shower the
exhausted elf with kisses. Once unbound, the two
shared in their bedchamber a night that neither would
ever forget. One filled with love and promise. But in
the shadows at the far corner of the room, another set
of eyes watched the two. From the crack in the secret
panel, Borormir made some secret promises of his own.
First and foremost, “Foolish and lustful? Is that the
way of it now my Elven prince? Well, now thanks to
your sweet Aragorn, I think it is now time for me to
explore your apparent weakness.” Borormir closed the
panel and stalked down the corridor to his own chamber
to prepare. “Who would have thought that the lightest
tickling touch could bring an elf to his knees?”
The End
