Chapter Text
For the second time this night, Éomer was not exactly sure how he'd ended up where he was.
It was probably no shame, getting overwhelmed in your sleep by an elf's supernatural strength, speed and stealth, especially after a mind-blowing orgasm. The embarrassing part started with forgetting how to protest against being restrained by his own belt around his wrists, the second that said elvish Prince had his wicked lips back on Éomer's cock. Until that moment, he'd been honestly convinced there was no way he could even come up with enough energy for something like arousal in his body tonight, after what had been the battle of his life – so far – and an hour of fantastic sex with two most attractive Ring Companions to celebrate that victory.
Legolas' skills with his tongue quickly taught him better.
As it turned out just a few blissful minutes of Éomer's spirits reawakening, it was also true what they said about the dangers of trusting an elf though. He should have guessed it was only temporary that his beautiful lover had put down that damn riding crop in favor of sucking Éomer's quickly hardening length into that heavenly mouth once more. But there was also a pair of strong archer's hands kneading the back of his thighs into submissive relaxation, and sweet humming in the back of that throat clenching around the tip of his length, and somehow, he almost forgot both about the bounds keeping his arms up against the bedpost and the so far passive but very close observation from a certain future King of Gondor from that corner over there.
That those two people were once more working together in perfect synchronization with the only goal to leave Éomer a helpless mess of lust, he honestly didn't realize until those resolute hands coaxed him to bend his knees and pushed his legs up towards his chest, that greedy tongue licking a broad trace down his cock to his newly-exposed balls.
With his eyes tightly closed, he threw his head back and let out a deep groan, lost in the feeling of hot wetness closing around both his quickly filling balls at once, of that evil tongue applying just the right amount of pressure on the sensitive flesh between. He didn't realize the third player of their game had long left his audience seat until a second pair of almost just as strong hands wrapped around the tensing muscles of his calves … followed by the far rougher, alarming sensation of fabric quickly being wrapped around his right ankle.
A noise somewhere between surprise and anger on his lips, his eyes flew open, and he looked right into the wide-blown grey pupils of his other lover who had at a mischievous grin on his broad, kiss-swollen lips. "Wha…?"
Before he could get out more than half a syllable of his complaint, that mouth between his legs moved even lower; a wet, swift intruder was slowly circling his hole, and his brain decided to black out. "Fuck …"
"Give yourself to us, Lord Éomer," Aragorn murmured to him, probably with a bit of that damn elvish magic in his voice that his Númenórean blood was granting him.
There was definitely no other explanation for Éomer not fighting back when it was his legs being immobilized next, splayed wide, bound to the bed frame with pieces of clothing, in knots he could probably easily have opened just like the one on his arms if he'd really wanted to … But those people had a cursed way of making him forget, this was usually not a position in a sexual game of power he found himself in. It was very half-hearted, the way he strained against those bindings, his cheeks burning from the sheer obscenity of all his most vulnerable parts suddenly being on display like this.
A hungry mouth kissed the strangled moan from his lips as his hole was being breached by moist warmth, first beads of white forming on the tip of his untouched cock, the firm grip on his stretched thighs keeping him right where he was, almost better than the restraints could.
"You won't regret it," the future King promised, still with that predatory smile on his lips before they ravaged Éomer's mouth once more, slipping his tongue deep inside, teasing Éomer's, pushing it back every time Éomer tried to get at least some kind of leverage in this battle of dominance long lost.
"Want to bet?" he finally growled when his lover retreated, only to run both hands firmly over Éomer's chest.
A touch that quickly settled on his hardened nipples to torture the sensitive skin with firm twisting and kneading. There was no mistaking of how much Aragorn was enjoying himself, with an energy that never seemed to run out. Maybe it just was the same sheer will of trying to forget about all blood and death they'd seen earlier today that kept Éomer going in spite of his tiredness.
The scowl didn't stay on his forehead for long in any case, because his other lover was eating him out with passion now, that long tongue thrusting into him all the way, again and again, slicking his channel, spreading him open in a way he'd rarely allowed a lover to touch him in the past. He found himself pushing back against that intrusion before he knew he wanted to, writhing in his bonds under the perfect burning in his nipples, the feeling of emptiness in his groin that demanded more.
Maybe he'd actually voiced that last desire out loud, because a narrow but outrageously strong hand closed around his throbbing cock suddenly, pumping it in the same rhythm that he was being tongue-fucked all the way to Mordor. That yearning clench between his legs, in his balls, turned into an unstoppable urge within but seconds. His hips arched up, a warning shout was on his lips, as his exhaustion and far too much stimulation after that mind-blowing fuck earlier threatened to overwhelm him …
A sound turning into a frustrated growl as a tight grip on the base of his cock and his balls stopped his relief short. The wonderful warm feeling of being filled was also gone within split seconds, leaving his muscles clenching down on nothing.
"Your leadership skills are lacking, milord," he hissed at Aragorn when he could actually talk again, still out of breath from the almost-height and his useless struggle against his restraints. "Might want to try and rein in the elf again. He's getting far too bold."
His last word was cut short by a yelp because right there, where he'd just been so touched with so much attention, the harsh snap of leather came down on the back of his thighs, just inches away from the vulnerable flesh of his too-heavy balls.
"That's where you're mistaken, milord." Aragorn cut off his new protest with another kiss, calloused fingertips back on Éomer's already oversensitive nipples, pulling and yanking in a way that left Éomer shaking again all too quickly, both trying to pull away and leaning into that torturing, blissful touch.
"You see, technically, as of now, our elvish Prince here outranks me when we are not in battle. And since he has already bravely suffered his punishment for his misguided words before the last battle, it seems, now it's someone else's turn for atoning. For example, for rudeness and unprovoked attacks."
Éomer had a very rude reply on his lips, but that was before a second hit came down almost on the same spot as before, and he tensed up again with a quiet scream.
Before he could get coherent again or the longing hardness between his legs could even start flagging from the unpleasant stinging of too-thin skin, that sweet, soft suction was back on his balls all of a sudden, and whatever new objection he'd try to form got lost in more moans.
A most wicked mouth indeed.
He wasn't the only one shamelessly enjoying himself, he found when he threw his head to the side in newly rising pleasure and managed to blink away the sweat of heat from his eyes.
Promptly, he was faced with the beautiful sight of a long, thick cock standing so proud from a groin covered sparsely in dark fuzz, as if a certain future King cowering next to him there hadn't made it through two orgasms this evening already.
Definitely Númenórean benefits.
The way Éomer instinctively licked his lips, trying his best and failing at not entertaining the idea too prominently of how to gain back a little bit of an upper hand in this assault, apparently didn't go unnoticed.
Next he knew, his Dúnadan lover was kneeling over him, braced on only slightly shaking knees left and right of his chest, leaning heavily against the very same bedframe he was bound to, and the head of that pretty cock grazed his lips cautiously, almost questioningly. It was nice to know that even in a fierce game of trying to outdo each other with word and touch, his two partners always gave him a chance to make it known if he really wanted out of something. It was once more a reassurance that the unseen forces across the sea had been right, making sure it was those two people in the lead of the most important quest of this age, and hopefully of one of them someday being in the lead of all Men of the West.
Trust was not something one could buy with a sword and blood.
And in this case, his mannish lover would not have needed to worry. More or less in secret, Éomer had been drooling over that nice piece of flesh ever since he'd seen the elf impale his throat on it for the first time tonight, and he was very much determined to prove, it didn't need a Firstborn body to do the job just as well.
Focusing on drawing his lover's thickly-veined cock deeply into his mouth also served well to silence the next scream from his lips as a brief but firm series of smacks rained down on his ass and thighs. Before long, he was wriggling uselessly in his bonds once again, keening around his lover's length, his skin burning from the heat in his veins and the salt of exhaustion glistening on it. But mostly from the tightly wired leather that bruised his skin from right under his knees all the way down to the swell of his behind with unpleasant precision, never once coming too close to his miraculously still erect cock or his swollen balls though.
Tears prickled in the corners of his eyes when a firm hand got buried in his hair, that large cock thrusting deeper into him, past the resistance of a natural reflex until his air was cut off and his body tensed up, trying to escape the assault from both sides but kept in place firmly by strong thighs caging him in.
Instead of signaling his lover that he needed a break, he only intensified his efforts, thrusting his head forward against his flight reflex until he could reach out his tongue to lick over the soft curve of those drawn-up balls and the head of that throbbing organ twitching in the back of his throat.
A surprised cough came from his lips when his lover pulled back on his own before Éomer could yank the next height out of him, with a choked groan, his hand tightening in Éomer's hair to keep him from following the movement and throw his lover off balance at least for a moment.
"Nice try, Rohir." With a heated but still brazenly steady smile, Aragorn bent down to him for another passionate kiss, languidly stretching out across his stilled body while their elvish lover retreated for a moment until their lengths were rubbing against each other, thick pearls of white slicking the most unsatisfying glide.
The rough tickling of hair on Éomer's bruised skin got a noise embarrassingly close to a whine out of him which quickly turned into a deep moan though when Aragorn sneaked his hand between their bodies, scooping up the mixed fluids of their lust on two fingertips before they slowly breached his slick-spit hole. "I want to fuck you," he murmured hoarsely against Éomer's lips, eyes wide and wild with desire. "I've wanted that fine behind of yours since we first met and you got down from that damn horse. Will you yield to a Ranger of the North, Lord Éomer?"
Éomer had a hard time answering between those groans of ecstasy from his lips, upon a first, skilled thrust of well-trained fingertips against his prostate, but he couldn't help teasing his lover back a little. Although or maybe just because that promise of an even more intimate encounter tonight had the muscles in his groin tense in desire. "I will not."
Before Aragorn could back away from him with a slightly disappointed but respectful nod, Éomer pulled one hand away from that knot he'd long managed to open and pulled the man close again for a small nip at Aragorn's lower lip, before he could possibly get the stupid idea of stopping the wonders he was doing there with his hand. "But I will yield to the future King of Gondor."
Within approximately five seconds, all of his restraints were history and his lover had moved away from him, which now sent a cool shiver of disappointment down Éomer's bare, salt-crusted arms in turn. But he got only a moment to stretch his limbs, with a small grimace, before supernatural strong arms manhandled him around as easily as if he had no weight at all.
Again, he was still busy trying to decide if he wanted to allow such a fierce treatment or not before that greedy mouth he already knew so well at this point was back between his legs. And this time, there were no pauses, no teasing before a certain tongue was thrusting deep into his quivering hole, chasing the traces of precum Aragorn's touch had left there, until he was a shaking mess, fisting the sheets under his body while his desperately hard cock leaked precum all over the already ruined covers.
The iron grip that printed new bruises into his already sensitive backside pulled his hips up just as easily, guiding him to brace himself on his elbows while Aragorn took his position from the beginning of this scandalous night, sitting back against the bedframe to offer Éomer another shot of driving the man insane with his own mouth.
At that point, Éomer decided, he might just as well give in to whatever those two were doing, because they were far too good a team to get an inch of resistance in there somewhere. For a moment, he couldn't help but wonder if there were other people they liked to include in their intimate games from time to time, maybe some other member of the fellowship …
But that thought quickly left his head, like pretty much every other consideration, because he'd only just got his lips back on that leaking cock head when the tongue fucking him open once more was replaced by two slender, well-slicked fingers. He had half a mind to notice, he'd have to replace that bottle of oil that his two guests were taking so generous advantage of tonight but he couldn't mind less. Those gently circling and probing fingers were as cautious as they were cool, and the perfect aim of what might just as well be the best archer on Middle-earth right now certainly didn't end at nocking arrows.
It certainly didn't compete to a handful of attempts at this thing with the casual lover in his Éored which had somehow always ended with them quickly switching back places anyway. There was no painful stretch this time, no impatience in a night when for once, nothing was hunting the three of them. Thanks to the almost decadent amount of oil soaking the already soiled sheets below them, Éomer was pushing back against that delicious pressure against his most sensitive spot inside before he knew, welcoming the further stretch of another finger only too gladly.
He moaned around Aragorn's cock, deep and long, satisfied to feel that even the future King's iron resolve started to shatter now, judging by the heavy twitch of the length slipping deeper into his willing throat and the trembling grip on the mess that was Éomer's hair at this point. For a moment, he was convinced that he'd make it to bring his mannish lover to completion with a quick up and down motion and the firm hollowing of his cheeks alone after all …
But damn, those two played dirty. The gentle preparation stopped so suddenly that his muscles clenched painfully, and an irritated growl came from his lips which the elf behind him commented on with just a low chuckle. A last, none too gentle slap to one of the welts on his behind helped get the worst of urge under control that this damn skilled hand had provoked.
When Éomer startled away from what he was doing with a tormented hiss just for a second, his other lover immediately took the chance to slip away from under him and trade places with his elvish companion.
"I seem to remember you promised our Princeling something earlier," he chuckled as he came to kneel behind Éomer, an unrelenting hands on his thighs kneading some more keening noises from his lips while Aragorn slicked himself up unceremoniously with the other. "After he's served us so prettily, it would be unfair, leaving him out of all the fun, don't you think?"
"From what I remember, His Highness of Mirkwood got quite a lot of attention earlier," Éomer couldn't help but remark, but there was no bite to it. Besides, he was a lot in the mood to get his mouth on that reddened, hardened length between the elf's long legs next anyway… and maybe find out how much fun you could have with that small ring piercing the underside.
Not to mention that giving his oral skills a little more practice would keep the loudest of noise from his throat down that would otherwise have caused more rumors in this castle tomorrow than his uncle would have approved of it. He couldn't have guaranteed for anything at this point, at the latest when he could finally feel something slick and hot prod at his waiting hole, and what was left of clear thinking in his head faded into oblivion.
Expecting the usual amount of discomfort, he was soon to find out that his mannish lover's deeply-rooted care didn't stop at passion when it really counted, for there was nothing but pleasant heat throbbing through his groin, patiently slow, light thrusts easing away the last of muscle resistance until that sensation of being perfectly filled and as close to someone as possible washed over him entirely.
If it hadn't been for the strong hand in his neck guiding his head up and down in a quick, demanding rhythm, he could almost have forgotten he was being wanted for someone else's pleasure that night too. Almost. Too easy it was, getting addicted to the sensation of velvety skin and cool metal on his tongue and the sweetish dew of precum quickly easing the slide of that needy cock over his tongue, the roof of his mouth.
It wasn't without a hint of pride that he noticed, even the stamina of a Firstborn was limited after so many hours of battle and lovemaking. The rhythm that his elvish lover was fucking his mouth with started to stutter already, slim fingers curling in his hair, pushing him just that one more inch deeper until his lips were flat against Legolas' quivering groin and stars started to dance in front of his tightly shut eyes from the growing lack of air.
Instead of fighting it, Éomer let himself fall completely into that heat throbbing in his veins, swallowing thickly around that pulsating flesh and rubbing the flat of his tongue over the ring in it, even while he felt his own impending height throb through his tense groin, and in the cock spearing him open so perfectly. A few more well-aimed thrusts against his oversensitive prostate was all it took to spill a second time this night, with the taste of sweet, thick cum heavy on his tongue, and the sensation of more hot wetness filling him up deep inside assuring him, his mannish lover had got his own needs sated properly. Only now he allowed himself to collapse down against his lovers for good.
Completely drained at this point and asleep within seconds, he could only hope he wouldn't wake up in another compromising position because he was pretty sure, he wouldn't even live to see the final stand against Sauron on this world then …