Never Wanted This
Aragorn hung suspended from the manacles that dangled from the roof, his fists wrapped tightly around the chains. He panted and gasped with each blow of the lash upon his naked back, his body swinging forward and arching against the pain.
Before him stood Daged, watching the ranger from eyes alight with perverted pleasure. One hand held the youth's face, keeping his eyes trained on his master, and the other had disappeared below the waistband of his own leggings, casually stroking his arousal. He purred in delight, his body trembling with desire, and his fingers tightened as Aragorn's face tensed in pain, a quite gasp slipping past his parted lips.
Behind him, Tamarul wielded a braided rope lash instead of the jagged leather whip he often favored to spare the youth's still healing back. The physical damaged the rope lash wrecked on Aragorn was minimal, but Tamarul wielded the weapon with frightening accuracy and the pain was no less then that caused by any other whip.
Daged tipped Aragorn's face up further, his nails creating crescent moon shaped bruises on the youth's skin. Aragorn trembled, his body arching towards his master as another blow rocked him forwards onto his toes, another line of fire flaring across the young ranger's beaten back.
Daged stepped closer, flashing a quick glance over Aragorn's shoulder to stop Tamarul. The beating ceased and the only sound in the small stone room was the youth's loud, harsh panting. He watched his master with apprehension and when Daged withdrew his hand from his own leggings and slipped it instead between the ranger's legs, he found the youth eager for his touch. Aragorn moaned quietly and wet his lips with his tongue, his lashes fluttering as his master wrapped his hand around the ranger's growing arousal, feeling his flesh swell in Daged's palm.
Daged's callused fingers began to caress the young ranger's skin, and Aragorn closed his eyes. He was exhausted, wearier then he could ever recall feeling. His physical strength was hardly enough to keep him on his feet, and he had no mind left to rebel against his master's vile actions.
It had been over a week since Aragorn had last seen Legolas, and during that time Daged had begun to spend longer days with the elf. During his master's absence, Aragorn's time was divided between Denethor and now Tamarul, who had finally succeeded in making some type of deal with Daged to allow him the pleasures of his young slave. Attempting to sate the desires of three men gave the young ranger little time to revitalize, and he was in a constant state of fatigue.
Aragorn began to moan in pleasure, his body instantly submitting to Daged's touch. With no strength left to fight back, the ranger was filled with the desire only to submit, seeking to appease the men who tormented him. His knees buckled and pain flared in his wrists and shoulders as they strained against the manacles that kept him upright and he struggled to regain his footing, and then Daged's hand was touching him in marvelous ways and his attention was once again on the pleasure his master could bestow.
Aragorn was caught off guard as Tamarul landed a vicious blow on his back at the same time that Daged tugged forcefully on his arousal. He cried out in both pain and pleasure, his body tensing and jerking, and was hardly allowed a moment to catch his breath before another blow caught him between his shoulder blades as Daged's fist twisted and pulled, leaving the shaking youth gasping for breath.
Daged released Aragorn's face, his second hand slipping farther between the youth's spread legs. Aragorn moaned again, heavy with desire, and his hips jerked backwards on their own accord, shamelessly begging for Daged to end his taunting. Tamarul laughed aloud, and as he nudged backwards yet again, the Gondorian landed another blow on his sweaty back.
The pleasure rippling through his body was instantly contending against the pain of Tamarul's lash. Daged continued thrusting his fingers gently into Aragorn's body, his second hand tugging rhythmically on the youth's aching flesh, and Tamarul lay blow after blow on his exposed skin.
Aragorn cried out as pain and pleasure mingled, unable to make out where one began and the other ended. Caught between Daged's hands and Tamarul's lash, his body danced to the cruel rhythm they set, jerking and arching as leather and flesh played across his skin.
His cries grew louder, his body trembling. Tamarul was focusing on the sensitive spot below Aragorn's right shoulder, making his body twist and writhe in agony. His body shook from the stimulation, and both men redoubled their efforts. Tamarul's blows came harder and faster, and Daged succeeded in pushing three of his fingers into the ranger's writing body, earning a cry of sheer pleasure.
He felt the beginnings of tears on his lashes, and within moment they were spilling down his cheeks. His back was aflame with agony, and blood pooled in his groin as his pleasure grew.
'Valar,' he whimpered, his hips jerking forwards and back, 'please.'
Daged's hand tightened cruelly, his fingers curled just so, and he pressed his mouth over the ranger's to smother his cry. With a final jerk of his fist and one last blow upon his back Aragorn came with a shout, his warm seed spilling over Daged's hand. His knees buckled, weak with effort, and he hung limply from his wrists, breathing hard.
He dangled lifelessly, his heart racing in his ears, and clung hopefully to the last remnants of the pleasure that echoed throughout his body. So exhausted was he, his body failed to react in it's customary disgust as Tamarul's hot erection rubbed against his naked backside, thrusting his hips against unresisting flesh. It came as no surprise when, minutes later, the Gondorian spilled his seed onto Aragorn's body, moaning and groaning in delight.
Aragorn opened his eyes, watching his master. Any urge to resist had deserted him, and when Daged undid the manacles above the youth's head and Aragorn fell gracelessly to the ground, he raised himself onto shaking arms and knelt before his master in submission, ready to surrender to whatever else Daged may ask of him.
'Use your mouth,' his master ordered, his voice strained with suppressed arousal. Aragorn obeyed immediately, his fingers trembling as they undid they ties on Daged's leggings, and then guided the man's erection to his lips.
He made quick work of Daged, whose arousal had grown to unbearable heights while tormenting his young slave. Daged fisted his hands in Aragorn's hair, holding his head still, and thrust his hips frantically, forcing his length down the youth's throat. When Daged came, he gave a low moan, withdrawing from the ranger's mouth to spill his seed on Aragorn's face.
After a minute of harsh panting, Daged finally released the youth's hair and retied his leggings. Had he had any strength left to express emotion, Aragorn would certainly have felt surprise when Daged dropped to a crouch before him, reaching out one hand to steady the shaky youth.
'You pleased me today,' he said, gracing the young ranger with a rare, genuine smile.
'Thank you,' Aragorn muttered in reply. He longed for nothing other then repose, and would willingly have dropped where he knelt and succumbed to sleep.
Daged, obviously sensing his slave's exhaustion, wrapped one arm around Aragorn's shoulders and guided him to his feet. After a brief moment in which he thanked Tamarul for his aid, he led the stumbling ranger from the room, directing him to their chambers. Semi conscious, already half asleep, Aragorn murmured his gratitude repeatedly. Even through the haze that clouded his mind, he could tell his master was pleased with him, and he wanted to keep Daged from becoming angry so badly it ached. He fawned shamelessly, thanking Daged continually for both the pleasure he had been granted and his master's undeserving kindness.
When they reached their quarters, Daged led Aragorn immediately to the bed and the ranger retained his sensibilities just long enough to crawl under the covers before finally allowing sleep to claim him, completely unaware of the elf's sorrowful eyes that watched him from across the room.
Aragorn was awoken after what felt like far too few minutes of sleep, though judging by the light that spilled into the room it had been hours since he'd returned from his session with Daged and Tamarul.
'I'm sorry to wake you,' Legolas apologized, his voice soft and sympathetic, 'but I don't know when Daged will leave us alone again.'
Aragorn's head ached fiercely and his body was sore to the bone, but he recognized the truth in the elf's words and with a groan of effort, raised his body onto shaking arms and rested his back cautiously against the headboard of the bed. He blinked tiredly, his lids heavy from many sleepless nights, and forced away the tantalizing suggestion of slumber.
'How are you?' the young ranger asked, his voice rough and gravely.
'Me? Fine.' Legolas leaned forwards, casually shrugging away the inquiry of his health. 'It's you I'm worried about.'
Aragorn was silent, having no reply for such a statement. The elf's eyes darkened with worry, troubled by the ranger's silence. Despite knowing the truth, he had obviously anticipated an answer similar to his own.
'How do you fare?' Legolas prodded.
Aragorn sighed heavily.
'Poorly,' he admitted, meeting the elf's concerned gaze. Legolas raised one hand, touching the crow's feet at the corner of Aragorn's eyes, smoothing away the lines of exhaustion.
'I worry for you,' Legolas replied truthfully. 'Daged is a cruel man, and he's wearing away at your very soul. I can see it in your face; your will to survive is ebbing away. Do not abandon hope completely, Aragorn, no darkness is made to endure.'
Aragorn nodded jadedly, closing his eyes.
'Aragorn,' Legolas began, and this time it was he who paused in momentary uncertainty, 'I'm going to help you get out of here. I promise.'
Despite the seriousness of the statement, Aragorn couldn't quite suppress a dry laugh. Though he found no humor in the situation, he needed to respond in order to disguise the swell of hopeless he felt towards his bleak future.
'I will not hold you to your promise, for it is a task doomed to failure. Daged would see me dead rather than releasing me from this cruel torment.'
His façade didn't fool the elf. Legolas' eyes reflected pity, and his hands began to caress the ranger's face, committing the feel of the youth's skin to memory.
'Gar estel,' Legolas murmured . Aragorn felt Legolas' forehead rest against his own, the elf's gentle hands touching his face, and a multitude of emotions swelled suddenly within him, released by the immortal's close intimacy. He felt at once an immense yearning for comfort, vying against the destitution of anger and sorrow.
And, impossibly, despite all that he had suffered, he felt the slow stir of desire.
Aragorn flinched back, fearful of his body's betrayal, and Legolas murmured in reassurance.
'It's okay,' the elf whispered.
'No, Legolas-,' Aragorn froze, unable to put his frightening feelings into words.
'Aragorn, it's okay,' Legolas repeated, firmer this time.
There was a moment of stillness, the only sound in the room was Aragorn's harsh breathing, and then as though in a dream Aragorn pressed his mouth forwards, meeting Legolas' soft lips and finding them closer then before. The ranger trembled, his body quivering, and Aragorn's breath left him as Legolas' mouth moved slowly against his own.
Legolas' kiss was tender in a way Aragorn had never known. The elf was soft and gentle, keeping the kiss light, mindful of the trembling youth, and it was sweet. Sweet and kind and caring. Before his capture, Aragorn had been ignorant and naive of the ways men could share their passion, and apart from the twisted want to please his master, Aragorn had never desired another man until now.
The ranger's closed his eyes in bliss. Aragorn craved tenderness. He longed to feel loved and cherished, and for a brief moment his ever present fear was forgotten, replaced by unabashed happiness. Aragorn's felt as though he was melting against the warm strength of the elf's solid body. The ranger raised both hands to the elf's face, his fingers caressing as his mouth moved fervently. Legolas' hands tightened in the youth's hair and his tongue swiped against Aragorn's lips, asking for entry, and Aragorn hesitated, caught between desire and momentary uncertainty.
'I'm sorry,' Legolas gasped, pulling away suddenly. 'I shouldn't have-'
'No. Don't stop, please.' Aragorn said, his voice raw with passion. 'I want this.'
His eyes reflected his desperation, he could see it in the way Legolas' face softened. A kind smile played across the elf's lips, and Aragorn felt a hopeful flutter in his belly.
Their lips had only just met, the lightest of touches, when both the ranger and the elf heard the sound of loud, booted feet in the hallway outside. Aragorn flinched away, terrified of what Daged would do if he found them in such a position. Legolas' hands tightened briefly in the youth's tangled tresses, reluctant to let go. Then he dropped his hands to his side, rolling away and resting his back against the headboard next to Aragorn's.
The ranger had no time to reflect immediately on what had just transpired. He slid his body downwards, hissing as his back caught against the wood, and pulled the covers higher on his body, feigning slumber.
Daged entered, and Legolas quickly went to the Gondorian's side, talking to the man in hushed tones. Within moments the pair had disappeared into Daged's bathing chamber, leaving the ranger in solitude. Without Daged's presence looming over him, the youth's thoughts inevitably turned to Legolas. Though Aragorn's head was in turmoil, playing through his brief moment of shared passion with the elf, even thinking about Legolas was not enough to keep his fatigue at bay for long. Soon, the young ranger succumbed to sleep, full for the first time of tenderness and warmth rather then pain and fear