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Why can't you see me?

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„Gimli... will you not even look at me?“
The elf's voice was hushed, and dark with desire and Gimli's mind threatened to black out when he tried to imagine the promise it held. It wouldn't even have been the first time, Mahal knew what shameful, twisted paths his thoughts had taken when he hadn't managed to reign them in properly in the past. Images of pale skin glowing in the moonlight, long legs, more flexible than they had any right to be, pulling him closer to the strong, toned body of his elven companion, willing and pliant beneath his hands...
Guilt and shame always followed close behind, effectively keeping Gimli from ever uttering a single word about these wicked thoughts, burying them somewhere inside him where they could not be seen by others.
He was a dwarf after all, and if there was one thing he could to, it was to keep a secret.

Now, sitting on the edge of his bed in his assigned quarters, his head was swimming from ale – and from the arousal that had thrummed through his body from the second he had laid eyes on Legolas in the silvery, flowing gown that was so distinctly different from the hunting gear he had used to wear for the past weeks.

It should have been ridiculous... this fierce warrior he knew the elf to be, clad in silk and jewels for Aragorn's coronation, but Gimli realized a moment too late that he was simply staring. He had been glad then for the thick beard that covered most of his violent blush that spread hotly over his face, leaving him at loss for words.
And still, something in Legolas' gaze had shifted then... the gentle twinkle in his dark eyes changed into something more mischievous, something more determined, sending a shiver down the dwarf's spine. Gimli had known then that he was doomed.

He should not be here now... his mind failed to grasp the concept of what was about to happen. He had surely drunken more of his fair share of ale, trying to drown away the impossible impure thoughts that flimsy piece of clothing on the elf's body his mind conjured so readily. That hadn't really worked out, if anything, it had gotten worse.
And the day had felt exceedingly long. There were formal speeches and pledges of allegiance to be heard – Gimli had not been able to listen to any of them. Every nerve in his body had seemed to be hyper aware of the elf next to him, standing as calmly as ever, but the fact that Legolas had kept close to him instead of joining his kin from Rivendell of Lothlórien had been enough to distract Gimli's thoughts from the ceremony held before them.

This was insane. He had been almost inseparable from the elf during the past weeks without feeling this weak, this helpless in his skin. Also, it had never unsettled him so, watching silken strands of blond hair flutter against Legolas' slim neck in the breeze, until he had to ball his hands into fists to keep them from reaching out involuntarily.
Maybe the worst part had been that he could not help but feel like Legolas just knew about his conflicting emotions, although nothing gave him away – only an aura of amusement that had lingered around the elf, as if he could read Gimli's tangled, twisted thoughts, teasing the dwarf in a most playful manner without even so much as looking at him.

Gimli had wanted to be relieved when finally all had been said and done to properly crown the King of Gondor, allowing them to commence with the festivities. Huge amounts of food and drink had been prepared for the occasion, just what Gimli's raw mind had needed. Out of habit he had begun to fill two plates, one for himself, and one for the elf, who had entrusted Gimli to be the judge of which dishes were actually meatless pretty early in their stay in Rohan – he had found out the hard way that men didn't just serve meat as a whole but liked to fill various seemingly vegetarian options with even more scrapes of meat, or cooking them in its juices...
Éomer had watched this familiar picture unfold before him with an amused twinkle in his eyes, that Legolas purposely had not commented as he filled two cups with golden ale in return, although it did not go by unnoticed.

The routine of this had Gimli feel almost at ease again...
Until, of course, the cursed creature had the nerve to ever so often press his thigh against Gimli's beneath the table, as if accidentally, and he hadn't wanted to notice how the fine elven garment contrasted with the athletic muscles beneath, but he had... his heart had felt as if it tried to jump out of his chest all over again.

He had probably held a conversation with other guests, though back in his quarters he could not remember a word he might have said. He should have been used to Legolas presence so close to him, after all, there was little room for two of them on one horse, but that had been a necessity, Gimli had told himself over and over again.
This was not... and so the soft press of Legolas' leg against his had been all he had been able to focus on, leaving the skillfully prepared food taste bland in his mouth in comparison to the temptation next to him. It left him more confused and aroused than anything he had ever encountered before.

His retreat had been almost hurriedly that night – he needed to get away from the noise and the men and this blasted, teasing, gorgeous elf... who had just softly grasped his wrist as Gimli had risen from his seat, and the dwarf had turned to him, ready to finally snap, ask him what the hell he was thinking, what he was trying to do and whether he thought this was all a big fucking joke.

But where he had expected to find laughter in Legolas' eyes and the cutting joy elves could find in tricking others, he saw something entirely else. An unspoken wish laid within the depths of the elf's eyes, a smoldering fire that Gimli felt burning deep within his own stomach, blazing hot enough to burn him alive, and yet he had kept it closed in as best as he could. At times it scared him, threatened to consume him, but he would not have dared to speak of it... ever. Instead, he had built a wall around it, thick enough to hide the nature of his feelings from his friends, and most importantly, from Legolas himself.

But there he had found it, mirrored in Legolas' eyes, and then the elf's mouth twitched. Something unspoken passed between them, clicking into place so effortlessly it almost frightened Gimli.
“Go on if you're tired. I will say my good-byes and then see after your well-being.”
Legolas' voice had sounded as calm as ever, and Gimli had just then understood that he was giving him an easy way to get away from the party without drawing any more attention to them. If that was at all possible.

His mind was racing by the time he reached his quarters, trying to decipher what the hell just passed between them...
This couldn't have happened. Surely his mind must have been playing tricks on him, wanting to believe so much that his feelings, strange as they may be, could be mutual, when in truth he had just made a complete and utter fool of himself. He could feel his cheeks heat up with embarrassment as he thought about how the damned elf would laugh at him in the morning... a dwarf, pining for one of the immortal, fair folk. It was indeed ridiculous.
Of this, Gimli had almost convinced himself when he heard the door being opened, just as he was sitting down on the bed and pulling off his boots, angrily huffing at himself and his lack of self-control.
Reflexively, Gimli turned his head towards the sound, feeling rational thought fleeing his mind once more.

He was sure he was staring again, and he hastily broke away his gaze, feeling every hair on his neck stand on edge as he heard Legolas close the door softly behind him, trading lightly over the wooden floor until he stood at the bed's end.
Gimli didn't need to look to feel the energy vibrating from the elf's body, strong and vital and so, so enticing.
Gods, he wished Legolas would not speak his name so gently, so inviting. He couldn't remember ever feeling this weak.
„Gimli... will you not even look at me?“
He wanted to shake his head no, but his muscles wouldn't move... the shell he had built around himself had become too thick to be broken apart so easily, even by his own will. He heard the soft rustling of clothes, and suddenly his mouth felt dry.
“I liked it when you looked at me like that... like you find me more beautiful than any gem or jewel beneath the mountains, more beautiful than all of nature's treasures beneath the sun. I never dared to hope that you would... was I mistaken?”
Gimli closed his eyes shut for a moment, before finally turning his head to look at the elf, whose eyes lit up in delight.

“No, you were not.”
His voice sounded gruff and strained, even to his own ears. He felt like he should probably say something else, ask Legolas what he thought he was doing there, what this sudden change in their relationship meant... but all words eluded him, as he watched slim, dexterous fingers open the collar button of those treacherous silk robes, exposing a slim neck and pale skin.
Legolas looked at him and tilted his head slightly, smiling down at him almost conspiratorially now.
“Would you like to see some more?”

That shameless creature didn't even wait for an answer... he just continued unbuttoning the luxurious garment, and Gimli felt a surge of blood rush through his body, drowning out the doubtful voice in his head, leaving him to feel a bit dizzy and utterly overwhelmed at the sight presented to him. He should probably question how such a smooth, seductive tone seemed to come so naturally to Legolas, but he couldn't find himself to care. And so it was still the elf who was speaking.

“You should make yourself more comfortable.”, Legolas suggested, a content smile spreading on his pretty lips as Gimli obliged, moving onto the center of the bed like he was being pulled on strings. And with an open invitation to look his fill, he did exactly that. Inch by glorious inch more of the unblemished skin was revealed to him, and his hands suddenly itched to follow the path where the silk cloth slipped from narrow shoulders.
Golden hair freely spilled over them now, held back from the beautiful, eternally young face only by the silver circlet Legolas had yet to loose and he could barely appreciate enough the smooth skin that stretched over flexible muscles.

Legolas seemed to bathe in his approving looks, a warm flush spreading over his body where he felt Gimli's gaze wander. Only when the silver robe had been discarded, pooling around his feet, the elf slipped out of his soft boots and climbed on the bed, leaning forward ever so slightly – and without ever breaking eye contact now, he slipped his fingers under the waistband of his leggings, pulling them down his long legs with such a smooth, sinful movement of his hips it made blood rush through Gimli's body, centering low in his groin.

Finally, his resolve broke, and he surged forward to grasp Legolas' face in his hands, pulling the elf towards him until finally their lips clashed in a feverish kiss, hungry and full of lips and teeth.
Like the ocean crushed against a rock, Legolas' crashed against him, pressing his very hot and very naked body against Gimli's, desperate to get more friction out of it while Gimli's hands couldn't seem to decide with part of the porcelain skin they wanted to explore first. If this was indeed a dream, he would have happily never woken from it.
Gasping for breath they parted, allowing Legolas to press impossibly closer, until Gimli's hands came to rest on his slim hips, the long legs were placed firmly at his sides and gods, if he suddenly became acutely aware of the constricting confines of his own trousers., groaning impatiently.
His straining cock pressed almost painfully against his clothes, and he hissed as he fumbled to get rid of them until he just pulled them down unceremoniously over his hips, hearing something rip at the seams...

Gimli could not help the trembling moan that escaped his throat as the elf's erection dragged against his own, reaching between their bodies to wrap his hand around them both were they lay hot and hard against each other, earning a surprised gasp that he greedily swallowed in a kiss.
Legolas allowed himself to be lost for a moment in the intimate touch, feeling the hard shaft against his own, precum mixing within Gimli's fist, easing the slide of his fingers. Shivering with the effort to restrain himself, the elf suddenly pulled back, playfully smacking Gimli's wandering hand.

“No. You wanted to watch. So watch.”
There was a smirk on Legolas' face that Gimli knew well... this had just become a challenge and for once Gimli knew he would not care whether he won or lost.
Legolas reached into his travel bag next to the bed, and sure enough, he protruded a small glass vial, that was filled with a spicy smelling oil that Gimli knew to be a miracle against sore muscles.
Lying back, the vain elf lay splayed out before him, completely unashamed of the fact that Gimli now sat between his open legs, seeing him so exposed and vulnerable. If anything, it seemed to arouse Legolas even further as Gimli hastily struggled to get rid of clothes after all, his gaze never leaving the slim, agile body that was presented to him in all his naked glory for the first time. No amount of imagination could have ever come close to the real thing.

He wasn't prepared for the heat in Legolas' eyes, as they traveled down his body, so different from the elf's, sparking his curiousity.
“You have no idea how often I have dreamed about this.”, the elf breathed hotly, oil-coated fingers wandering down his body, stroking once, twice against his proud erection, before venturing further to the hidden spot just behind his balls – smooth and hairless as all the rest of this sinful body – and Gimli could hear Legolas' breath hitch as he breached himself.
His heart was pounding inside his chest like a war drum, deep and relentless, arousal thrumming through his body like liquid fire as he pushed against Legolas' thighs, spreading them further apart, ripping a keening sound from the elf's lips, who had his head thrown back in passion now. Silken hair spilled like gold over the crumpled sheets, the silver circlet laid forgotten on a bed corner.

“You utterly vain creature...”, Gimli heard himself curse huskily Legolas rubbed the tips of two fingers against his tight opening, glistening wet from oil, before pushing them inside his body, trembling under his own assault. Gimli's hands dug in the supple flesh of his thighs, watching the lewd display before him, feeling his cock ache at the thought of replacing those nimble fingers buried inside the tight channel...
“You are the most beautiful... gorgeous... terrible elf of all.”, Gimli moaned, leaning in to press teasing kisses against the inside of Legolas' thigh, who laughed breathily, before it turned into a gasp as a third finger joined. By now, he didn't even know who Legolas was teasing more, Gimli or himself.
Maybe they had both lost this game, Gimli didn't care any longer and Legolas didn't protest when he plucked the vial from the elf, coating his own straining erection with the oil before bringing his hand between Legolas thighs, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive, stretched rim of his twitching hole, biting his lip and cursing through his teeth at the sound the elf made then...
Distantly, Gimli recalled that he once had doubted that this could happen... that it should happen at all. He couldn't remember why now.

“Gimli, Gimli, please...”, Legolas pleaded softly, pulling his fingers from his body, locking his heated gaze with the dwarf, so eager, so consumed with the same passion that had eaten away at Gimli for weeks or months... he couldn't tell any longer.
“Make me yours already.”

Who could be able to resist such a sweet request...
For all his strength, the elf felt surprisingly light as Gimli pulled him closer by his hips, feeling his cock drag along the slick cleft until it caught at the rim, and he trembled as he held himself back from just pushing until he was buried to the hilt in the velvety heat. Instead he took it slow, feeling Legolas' body opening up for him, while he softly stroked his belly to make him breathe and relax. A whirlwind of emotions was written over Legolas' face, although any sign of pain was clearly outweighed by pleasure and sheer wonder at the feeling of being claimed like this. Gasping for air he moved his hips against Gimli's instinctively, arching his back as he was spread even further on the thick cock that was buried hard and unyielding inside of him, filling him in the most intimate way, finally locking together what was meant to be.

He heard Gimli's harsh grunts above him, desire pulsing through his body as he was dragged against the dwarf again and again as they built up a rhythm. It was slow at first, steady, giving Legolas more time to adjust than he needed, and soon he was reaching down to stroke over heavily muscled shoulders and strong arms covered in dwarvish tattoos to get more contact. His skin felt almost too sensitive where the coarse hair on Gimli's belly and thighs rubbed against it, but it aroused him too much to care...

“Ai, ai! Gimli!”, the elf wailed, edging the other on, until Gimli's resolve finally broke and his thrusts became more urgent, setting a harsher, faster pace now, sliding in and out the willing body easily now. It felt like nothing he could have imagined... Legolas' body was tight and warm, seemingly pulling him in, as the elf was moving against him, writhing on the sheets, chasing his own release now.

“Please... take me, mark me. Make me yours. Only yours...”
The words spilled freely from Legolas' lips, and Gimli groaned as his fingers dug into the narrow hips hard enough to leave bruised – beneath him, the elf shuddered in excitement, curious fingers holding tight onto his arms, before traveling through the hair on his chest.
Fine... since the elf had asked to nicely, there was no reason for Gimli to hold back, and he leaned back a bit on his heels, pulling Legolas' hips up from the bed and against him, burying himself into the delicious heat again and again this way. He knew that the most lecherous, depraved sounds must fall from his lips by now, but all he could hear was blood rushing in his ears, and the strangled cries he drew from those pretty lips.

Legolas hands fell from his body, reaching helplessly for the sheets above his head and holding onto them for dear life as he let himself simply be dragged on the thick, hard cock that pierced his body, stretching him to his limits in such a delicious, debauched way his head was spinning from it. His dark, hazy eyes rolled back as Gimli pressed against something inside him that made him shiver from the tip of his ears to his toes, rutting against him now in short, hard thrusts, and all Legolas could to – and all he wanted to – was to take it and submit to it, letting Gimli have his way with him however he pleased, for however long he pleased...

A strangled sob escaped the elf's throat at that thought, his release crashing over him like a sudden wave, relentless and unstoppable, ripped from him without his cock even being touched once...
He was reduced to a whimper, trembling from ecstasy as Gimli dragged his fingers through the warm, sticky fluid that covered his belly and chest, before he came with a deep, low moan that rumbled through his body, filling the elf's spent body with his own seed, both panting harshly as he released Legolas from his iron grip.

They were a right mess... sticky and sweaty, and neither of them cared, as Gimli slipped from the exhausted body, letting himself being pulled down into a warm embrace, instinctively burying his head against the crook of Legolas' neck, trying to catch his breath again.
“That was...”
Gimli broke off his own sentence with a sigh. On an existential level he knew words existed, and that they made sense if they were put in the correct order, but his mind refused to put them together to anything remotely intelligent.

The elf laughed, dark and still a bit breathless, before turning to wrap himself around Gimli as firmly as he could. It should have been awkward, with their height difference and all, but as Gimli slipped his arm around Legolas' narrow waist and held him there... it was perfect bliss.
“I know. I know... forgive me, I should have asked. Or said something.”, Legolas mumbled, and Gimli almost had to laugh at him. Now he was embarrassed...
“You mean instead of undressing and offering yourself on a silver plate?”, he snorted, feeling a grin spread on his lips despite himself. “Nah, it's fine, really. I mean, I almost suffered severe brain damage from lack of blood circulation there, but... that would have been worth it.”, Gimli mused dryly, earning a delighted, joyful laughter from the elf, and then soft lips pressed against his again, and well... they could still be doing all the talking tomorrow, Gimli decided then.