Sophinisba Solis (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sophinisba) wrote2005-11-03 11:55 pm
sophinisba) wrote2005-11-03 11:55 pm
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More Frodo/Aragorn drabbles
Even though nobody asked for them specifically, because I was fantasizing about these two in class today, and because I know a couple of you are always in the mood for more F/A. PG-13 or so.
After, they lie on their sides, and Frodo feels the warmth of Aragorn's chest pressing against his back. Frodo can still feel the whip wheals, that slight sting at first, but there is no longer shame or even real pain, only comfort in the touch. Aragorn folds his arms over Frodo's own, holding him close. Before, in the months they walked side by side, Frodo used to feel foolish, absurdly small in the company of Men and Elves. But since they became lovers, Frodo knows that he fits, that this is where he wants to be, and where he belongs.
Aragorn whispers in his ear and Frodo, whose Elvish never progressed much beyond greetings and pleasantries, smiles as the meaning reaches him clearly nonetheless. Love, devotion, protection. After a little while the king abandons language and finds a better use for his tongue. One hand smoothes down to Frodo's hip and the other up to the scar on his left shoulder. Any contact there always produces a chill, but the gentle kneading of Aragorn's fingers brings Frodo warmth; the firm embrace steadies him as the shiver passes. "And all of it will pass," Frodo murmurs, "only never let me go."
After, they lie on their sides, and Frodo feels the warmth of Aragorn's chest pressing against his back. Frodo can still feel the whip wheals, that slight sting at first, but there is no longer shame or even real pain, only comfort in the touch. Aragorn folds his arms over Frodo's own, holding him close. Before, in the months they walked side by side, Frodo used to feel foolish, absurdly small in the company of Men and Elves. But since they became lovers, Frodo knows that he fits, that this is where he wants to be, and where he belongs.
Aragorn whispers in his ear and Frodo, whose Elvish never progressed much beyond greetings and pleasantries, smiles as the meaning reaches him clearly nonetheless. Love, devotion, protection. After a little while the king abandons language and finds a better use for his tongue. One hand smoothes down to Frodo's hip and the other up to the scar on his left shoulder. Any contact there always produces a chill, but the gentle kneading of Aragorn's fingers brings Frodo warmth; the firm embrace steadies him as the shiver passes. "And all of it will pass," Frodo murmurs, "only never let me go."
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