Excerpt from ‘Midsummer’s Eve part II’

 

“You could get nothing out of Aragorn?” Eowyn flattened the folds of her gown, eyes pleading with Arwen in hopes that she had discovered some secret plan.

 

“Nothing.” Arwen turned Eowyn to the mirror and began to smooth the lace on her gown. “And I was most persuasive….”

 

 

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Persuasion

Interlude to Midsummer’s Eve

 

 

Evening came at a gratefully opportune time, as the candlelight flickered across the tired King’s rugged features. He grasped a pinch of sand and dropped it onto the parchment, slowly blowing it away to dry the ink. Using a waxed seal, Aragorn pressed the parchment together, wincing when his fingers touched the hot wax.

 

“Oh, it’s time for bed,” Aragorn muttered tiredly as he set the stamp aside and walked out leaving the royal guard standing outside to close the door.

 

Deciding to take a detour before returning to his chambers, Aragorn walked into one of the large gardens overlooking the city. He’d been cooped up in his office for far too long and the fresh smell of blossoming plants and flowers would do him some good. Standing in the entryway, surrounded by stone white pillars with vines wrapped around their length, Aragorn caught his breath at the sight standing before him.

 

Arwen stood with her back to him, staring out over the city. The evening breeze tossed her gown around her lean body, nearly obscuring it completely. Her ebony hair hung loose, not bound with jewels or circlets and it fell around her shoulders like a silken wave. With the moon alighting her alabaster skin and the wind whipping her gown around her limbs, she looked to him like an angel from Valinor.

 

He stood, entranced, unmoving, completely unaware of the two pairs of eyes watching from within the gazebo surrounded by blooming flowers and hanging hyacinth.

 

When he regained his wits, he strode toward her, slowly, watching transfixed as the wind lapped at her skin and the moonlight cast its pale glow against her dark hair.

 

She smelled of the sweetest elven flowers and he couldn’t help but snake his arms around her waist and gently pull her back against his chest. His faced dipped into her hair and he breathed deeply, intoxicated by the scent.

 

“You’ve been released from your duties for the evening?”

 

“I was falling asleep at my desk.” There was a slight tinge of amusement in his voice and Arwen smiled.

 

“I shall endeavor to let you sleep tonight, then” Her hands came up to cover his where they rested at her waist, slowly twirling circles atop his skin in a teasingly arousing gesture.

 

Aragorn could feel the years of pent up desire flood through his veins and he dropped his lips to the nape of her neck. Slowly, he lapped at the smooth skin, drawing breathy gasps from her lips. When his lips covered the tip of her ear, she shuddered in his arms. “Sleep is overrated,” he rasped, voice deepening with arousal.

 

She quickly turned within the circle of his arms and hooked her wrists around his neck. She stared into his eyes and smiled. “When duty and promise have kept us apart for so many years, yes, it is.”

 

His hands flattened against her backside and pulled her against his chest. Whiskered lips descended to claim the breath from her lungs, snuffing it faster than a blade through the heart. She whimpered, her legs giving way as his lips danced across her skin.

 

“Estel,” her breath was whispered into the air as his whiskered chin tickled the sensitive skin of her nape.

 

The mood was cut cold by a sharp cough behind them.

Aragorn’s head snapped toward the sound and Arwen’s gaze followed that of her husband, but their arms remained firmly in place – unwilling to be deterred from simply because they’d been caught enjoying a private moment.

 

Celeborn stood with Galadriel, his eyebrow raised at the sight.

 

“While such actions in a public setting would not discomfort an elf, I do believe the people of Gondor would be quite at a loss to see their King and his new Queen acting in such a manner.”

 

For the first time, the couple realized where they were: in a private garden overlooking the entire city of Gondor. Just as they could look down, so could anyone in the city look up and see the silhouette of the royal couple.

 

Galadriel smiled warmly and laced an arm through her husband’s.

 

“The gazebo is quiet and private.” Celeborn smiled and indicated a vine-covered dwelling to the corner of the garden. The couple gave a small start when they realized that the elves had been witness to everything that had transpired between the royal couple.

 

“I think we will move our – activities – to a more private location,” Aragorn said with a smile and a squeeze of his wife’s waist.

 

Celeborn smiled fondly. “It is a pity the world of men does not share the elves love of life and physical beauty.”  He turned and led his wife to the entryway, to give the royal couple some much needed privacy.

 

Aragorn stopped them with a comment that made the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien smile warmly. “Perhaps it will fall to me to teach them.”

 

“Perhaps it will.” Celeborn answered as they ducked out the door and closed it firmly behind them.

 

After a moment of silence, Arwen disengaged herself from her husband’s embrace and took his hand, leading him toward the secluded gazebo in the corner of the garden. Her eyes darkened with mischief and his eyes narrowed but he followed without hesitation.

 

The vines falling from the rooftop nearly obscured the moonlight, casting those within into nearly complete darkness.

 

Arwen gasped when her husband’s hands circled her waist and he pulled her tightly against his chest. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so difficult to persuade him after all, the fleeting thought was driven from her mind when warm, moist lips covered the tip of her ear. Her body melted against him while her hands drew lazy circles up his clothed arms and over his shoulders, before delving into the dark locks that fell to his shoulder.

 

Inside the gazebo, they were most certainly alone. The vines stopped the cool breeze and dissuaded prying eyes – giving them a certain freedom.

 

When Aragorn’s hands flattened against Arwen’s backside, she arched her hips against his, inviting a more intimate caress. She bared her neck to him, her head lolling to one side with a heavy sigh.

 

His rough, neatly trimmed beard brushed against the sensitive skin of her nape and she trembled. Hot desire plummeted straight to her toes, heating her skin beneath his touch. As his mouth moved along the pale column of her neck, she gave his hair a gentle tug.

 

She could see the whites of his eyes as he turned a heated stare upon her daring her to stop the movement of his hands as they slowly slid the material of her dress up her backside.

 

She smiled seductively, her fingers tightening in his hair, her hips wiggling seductively against his own and drawing a long, deep groan from his lips.

 

He nuzzled her neck as her fingers snaked between them and began to expertly remove the fastenings of his tunic. Parting the velvet folds, her hands flattened against his chest, fingers slowly moving in teasingly slow circles across his heated skin.

 

His lips captured hers again, stealing the breath from her lungs, just as her fingers reached the fastenings of his breeches. Instead of unfastening them, as he expected, she trailed a single finger over the obvious strain, drawing a loud gasp from his lips. When she applied a bit more pressure, she could feel him tremble beneath her fingers.

 

“Wanton tonight, my love?” He whispered against her lips as his own hands continued their sensual caress over the bare skin of her backside.

 

“Always, for you.” She breathed and trailed her fingers along his waistline before slowly unfastening the front of his breeches.

 

His breath hitched between clenched teeth as smooth fingers enveloped his rapidly hardening member and lifted it from its cramped confines. When both hands began to stroke in unison, his legs nearly gave out from beneath him. She chuckled against his lips and bade him to sit. Against pressure from one hand flattening itself against his chest and the one hand that continued to work him from below, he sank to the bench, panting.

 

“Elves are taught well how to please their partners, Estel.” Arwen licked her lips, and he could see the mischievous look in her eyes as she knelt before him.

 

“I’ve seen that first hand,” He swallowed hard as her fingers found a particularly sensitive spot, and then continued, “ in the last week of our marriage.”

 

Arwen’s eyes narrowed and she bent over his length, her breath hot as she answered, “You’ve seen nothing yet.” Her eyes locked with his as her lips covered the velvety tip of his shaft.

 

His hips came off the bench, despite his best attempt to remain calm, driving his length down her throat. She took it with little shock, working him slowly, deliberately, driving him to the brink of release before pulling away and leaving but the sensitive tip buried within her mouth.

 

“Arwen,” his breath hitched as he watched her work his length with expert hands and tongue. When his own hand came down to grasp at her arm, to pull her up to him, she resisted, settling at his feet to continue her ministrations.

 

His head lolled onto the back of the bench as he released a strangled groan into the night air. Large, callused hands delved into her hair, kneading, tugging at it in helpless abandon.  “Arwen,” he begged, eyes rolling into the back of his head with each pass of her tongue.

 

“Yes?” Their eyes met once again and she chuckled at the pleading look mirrored in the dark gaze.

 

“Please?” He breathed.

 

She smiled playfully and slowly stood, one hand continuing it’s leisurely stroke. He pushed himself to a seated, rather than sprawled, position and opened his arms. When she released him and lifted her skirts, his hands slid along the length of her thighs and pulled her into his lap.

 

Her forehead fell to rest on his as they released a mutual breathless sigh. She trailed the backs of her fingers down his whiskered cheeks before stopping to cup them in the palms of her hands. Ebony eyes gazed down at him with a love and adoration he only hoped she could see radiating from his own heated gaze. When their lips finally met, she settled her full weight atop his hips, driving his rigid length into her with little delay.

 

His eyes squeezed shut and his hands tightened around her thighs as their lips continued the dance. He groaned as she rolled her hips, driving him seemingly, unbelievingly deeper. Her skirts pooled around his hips, covering their union as his hands slid slowly up her back to loosen the fastenings and draw the dress from her shoulders.

 

When they parted, breathlessly, her pale skin glowed as it was bared in the darkness. His lips found that delicate, sensitive place along the join of her shoulder and neck, and fastened to it as if it were a lifeline. Her answering sigh as he drew the skin into his mouth heightened his already overheated desire and he arched his hips sharply, driving himself deeper.

 

Slim fingers slid under his open tunic and over the back of his shoulder, feeling his skin radiate a nearly intolerable heat. When she began to move, to rise and fall atop him, their breathless gasps echoed around the enclosed gazebo.

 

The ever sturdy bench began to creek with their increased movements but they paid it no mind. She rose and fell atop him quickly, driving him deeper until, on occasion, she would she leave only the velvety tip within her softness, driving him mad with need.

 

“What have you planned in retribution for Faramir’s…..foolish taunting?” Arwen breathed, wiggling her hips to draw another tremor from his body.

 

Aragorn grunted but remained silent, intent on driving his rigid length fully within her again.

 

She resisted and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips before reaching between them to stroke the straining organ. The tip, as ever, remained within her but when her cool, slim fingers wrapped themselves around the rigid heat, he nearly came off the bench.

 

“Nothing – yet.” He grunted, eyes pleading with her to release him.

 

“You would not lie to your wife, would you – Estel?”

 

His eyes sparkled with something she could not read and he smiled seductively. “My wife…..so long have I waited to hear those words.”

 

Arwen smiled lovingly and continued to stroke his rigid length, drawing breathless sighs from his lips. “As have I, Estel. My husband. My – lover.” Each word was punctuated by a quick stroke, nearly driving him to the brink of his passion.

 

When he slid a hand between them and returned the excruciatingly teasing favor by flicking a finger across her own swollen nub, her hips arched sharply, driving his length to its desired depth.

 

“You are a cruel, cruel man, Estel,” She whimpered as his caress did not cease with his full length now buried again within her.

 

“I know-what you are trying to do, melyanna,” he grunted. With one hand he held her hips and thrust sharply, with the other he continued to alternate a teasing caress along her most sensitive place.

 

She gasped in mock horror and suddenly slid off his hips and stood. She stared down at the shocked look on his face and let her eyes run over the length of his body. Her very disheveled King lying near boneless against the bench, flushed with desire, was almost too much for her to bear. But she held her own need in check as they continued this battle of wills.

 

The smoldering look with which he favored his wife was not lost on her as he stared at his new bride, dress hanging off her shoulders like some tavern wench. Her long ebony tresses were mussed and her alabaster skin was flushed red with desire. As he stared, his body turned on him, desiring to be within her again, the two of them moving as one in the ancient dance of love. He would give her anything at this moment – anything except that which she truly sought. Those plans would be keep hidden, except for those truly involved.

 

He held out his hand and smiled sweetly, knowing she was as frantic to continue their loving as he, “Come.”

 

“Tell me.” She held fast even going so far as to take a step back.

 

He grunted and watched with piercing eyes, her reaction, as his hand slid along his own length and began to stroke slowly. Her quickly masked start of shock nearly undid him as he continued the slow, leisurely strokes. She watched intently, as if learning from his strokes, the movements of his fingers. He would not bring himself to release, no matter how loudly his body screamed for it. He would force her to watch until she could no longer keep her hands from his body.

 

She backed away from him until her backside came into contact with the sturdy marble table across from the bench on which her husband sat. With a scandalizingly wanton look, she slid her own hands down her covered thighs and began to inch them up her legs. She leaned against the low table and lifted herself so that she was sitting atop it. Parting her legs ever so slightly, she stared at him through dropped eyelids and smiled seductively as she drew her skirt to her waist. From this position, she was open to him, and he could see exactly what she meant to do – tease him as he was teasing her. Slim fingers trailed lazy circles along the insides of her thighs before slowly moving toward the small triangle that hid her most precious pleasure point.

 

He grunted low as one finger slid within her own wetness and began to stroke as if it were a much larger, foreign object. When another finger joined the first, and her thumb began to press against that lovely, hidden nub, his own desire doubled, and his manhood pulsed in his hand. Her lips parted as a small gasp of pleasure escaped and when her head lolled backwards, eyes closed tight, he leapt to his feet and crossed the distance between them in one step.

 

“No more of this!” he grunted, his voice rough with desire. He quickly placed his hands on either side of her hips and drove his rigid length deep, amidst her quick cry of relief. He pushed her back against the small table, and gazed down as her hips arched against his own. “Lay there for me. Let me watch your pleasure.”

 

She could respond only in breathless moans as his length pounded its hardness to her very core. She watched through darkened eyes as a finger crept between their joined bodies and replaced hers, flicking against that hidden nub and causing her hips to jerk suddenly upward.

 

She whimpered beneath his onslaught, caught up in the wave that began at her very core and began to spread outward, its wings flowering to encompass them both as they drove toward a much-needed release. Her body trembled and she whimpered beneath him as the first waves of her release washed over her. She heard herself murmur his name, urge him to follow and all she received in response was his relentless onslaught on her senses.

 

When he removed his hand and leaned over her, she felt as if she would splinter in two. His fingers slid up her neck and over the sensitive tips of her ears, moments before his lips captured hers in a breathless kiss.

 

Her hands gripped his shoulders as he continued his thrusts, short and quick now she knew he was close – and so was she – again. With each thrust, his body came into contact with her oversensitive nub and as she was stroked from within and without, this release became more powerful than the first. Her hands delved into his hair and she tugged roughly, painfully, as her body shuddered from another powerful climax. When his lips fastened onto a corded muscle in her neck, she knew he was about to follow. She felt his hips jerk one last time and then the warmth of his release filled her. He collapsed against her, his chest heaving and he rested his forehead against the damp skin of her neck and waited as his heartbeat returned to normal.

 

Her arms snaked around his neck and shoulders and held him close, relishing the feel of his spent body in her arms. After a few moments, he grunted and moved to stand, chuckling slightly at their disheveled appearance.

 

She stared down at herself and laughed. She did indeed look like a tavern wench and when she threw a seductive look at her husband, he could only laugh and help her re-arrange her clothing.

 

“Nothing will clear this rumpled look, my love.”  Ebony eyes shut as his fingers gently replaced the straps of her dress, trailing along the edge as he did so.

 

“You look like you’ve been bent over a tavern bench,” Aragorn shook his head, momentarily chiding himself for taking his wife in such a way – in such a public place.

 

“Rather than a table in the Kings gazebo?” An amused eyebrow raised at the remark and he chuckled, drawing her into his arms and dropping a kiss to her swollen lips.

 

“I rather think you enjoyed this.” He whispered as she rested her head against his chest.

 

“Estel, you could take me on the back of Roheryn and I would not protest.” Arwen chuckled, eyes dancing at his incredulous look. “Indeed, I did enjoy this night and I anticipate we will have many others.”

 

After a moment, he grinned. “Yes, many, many more.” Almost as an afterthought, and, admittedly, to see her reaction, he added. “During my travels in Harad, I did learn a few techniques regarding that very position….”

 

Arwen licked her lips and leaned in to playfully bite his whiskered chin. “Well, we shall have to try it sometime, then, won’t we?”

 

His eyes twinkled but he made no answer, simply moved to re-fasten his tunic so that the guards wouldn’t think too badly of him when they were seen walking back to their chambers.

 

When they were as presentable as they were going to get, considering their recent activity, they turned to step out of the concealed gazebo. With his back to her, she slowly snaked her arms around his waist, under his tunic and dibbed her fingers below the waistband of his breeches. His sudden intake of breath was all she heard as he leaned a bit of his weight back against her chest, turning his head to stare into her wondrous ebony eyes.

 

“You never answered my question.” Her fingers dipped further, teasing his spent manhood into life once again.

 

He groaned and feigned innocence. “What question was that?”

 

Her tongue snaked out to trace the outline of his ear just as one hand slipped around his hardening shaft. “You know what I want.” Her breath was hot against his ear and she could feel his body tremble with re-awakening desire.

 

“There is nothing-” His comment was cut short as her second hand cupped him and squeezed gently.

 

“Oh,” She breathed hotly. “I think there is.”

 

He grunted, breath hitching as she slowly stroked over his hardening shaft.

 

“I will break you, husband.”

 

“You can try,” He quipped, eyes slipping shut as her fingers worked their magic around his near rigid manhood.

 

“I will succeed.” Arwen whispered, biting down on the lobe as her fingers found his most sensitive tip. He groaned, his head lolling onto her shoulder, eyes tightly shut, hips arching into her hands.  “However,” She removed her hands from his breeches and pushed him away. “Perhaps not tonight.”

 

She stalked off the gazebo steps and back into the palace, leaving a very aroused King of Gondor staring after her with an incredulous look on his face.