A drunken kiss. That's all it was. But why couldn't he get Aragorn out of his head?
Walking beside the Man, Legolas kept his thoughts to himself, sensing the worried stares of both the Man and the Dwarf trailing them.
When they made camp that evening, Legolas excused himself, saying he would scout ahead.
Only a few minutes after he left, he sensed the Ranger's approach. "Legolas, what troubles you?"
"I would rather we not speak of it." The Elf didn't look at the Man, but felt his gaze.
"Please, do not look at me."
"Look at me." Aragorn was pleading, something that forced the Elf to look at him. Aragorn, pleading?
As the blond turned to look at him, the Ranger stepped forward, his lips meeting Legolas' gently.
"A-Aragorn!" The Elf's cheeks were flushed as he pulled away. "Do not kiss me unless you wish me for your mate!"
A few moments passed after Legolas' outburst before Aragorn gently nudged the beautiful Elf's chin up, pressing his cracked lips to those perfect ones.
"I want you as my mate."
"But…What of Arwen?"
"I've already spoken with her. She has left with her people. Be mine, Legolas."
"Yes, Aragorn!" With great joy, the Elf crashed their lips together again, holding the Man close.