LPfiction

Category Linkin Park

L.O.T.R Series - Bound by BBB's Sex Toy

Bound

Chester was furious.


His hands curled into fists as he stood over Gimli who had collapsed to the

dirt, clutching at a twisted ankle. The Dwarf managed to roll upright, biting

back a moan of pain. "'Tis broken, I think, but not badly," the stout warrior

gasped.


Chester barely heard him for the blood roaring in his ears. He looked ahead to

the dark figure of Mike, as he wove, heedless, through the trees. So obsessed

with the relentless pace he was setting, the Man was not even aware he was

swiftly leaving his companions behind. Chester considered calling out to the

Ranger, then changed his mind. He would deal with Mike on his own.


He knelt beside Gimli and helped the Dwarf into a comfortable position against

the base of a tree. The Elf could already feel the swelling of the Dwarf's ankle

through the heavy boot that he wore. "It would be best to leave this on,"

Chester said, gingerly propping the other's foot upon a rock. "I'll bind it from

the outside, else you will not be able to fit into your boot again."


"I'll not have us fall behind because of such a trifling injury," Gimli

grumbled, sweat sheeting across his forehead. "Splint it and I'll be fine to

continue."


Chester managed to smile as he tore strips of cloth from the bottom of his

tunic. "I've no doubt you'd scale Caradhras itself with two broken legs, my fine

warrior, but there is no need this day to risk further hurt. One day will not

set us back overmuch."


Though Chester was gentle, Gimli hissed as the Elf bound his foot. "I wish you

luck in convincing Mike of such. The Man has set a pace to cross Mordor in

hours!"


Finished with his binding, Chester sat back on his heels, grim-faced. "Mike

is not a concern," he told the Dwarf quietly. He glanced towards the trees and

was unsurprised to find that the Man had disappeared from sight. "I will

convince him of the wisdom of rest."


Gimli's snort was skeptical. "Have your knives at the ready, then," he advised,

half-serious. "Mike is a Man possessed."


Possessed, and -- to Chester' mind-- therefore dangerous. But he hid his

misgivings and smiled for the Dwarf's benefit. "Rest easy, my friend. I shall

deal with it. In the meantime, I shall build you a fire and set out something to

eat." So saying, within minutes he had set up camp for them and seen to it that

Gimli was fed and resting as comfortably as his broken ankle would allow.


"Be careful," Gimli warned again as Chester rose and prepared to find the

Ranger. "Responsibility weights heavily upon Mike. Whatever his flaws, his

motives are noble."


Chester merely nodded and left with a promise to return shortly. He ran swiftly

through the trees, following the path Mike had taken.


Dusk awaited on the hills. Surely Mike would think of setting up camp and

notice their absence. But Chester continued to run, seeing and hearing nothing

of the Ranger. It wasn't until the edges of the sky darkened to a deep purple

that Chester finally saw him. The Elf slowed to a walk and crept quietly

forward.


Mike stood beside a tree, drinking deeply from a flask. When he lowered the

waterskin, Chester was disturbed to see the frustration etched so deeply upon

the Man's face. Mike did not appear worried for them. Rather, he looked

almost angry that he had been forced to stop to search for the Elf and Dwarf.

Chester knew this wasn't so; Mike was a Man deeply committed to his

companions. But the Ranger's agitation was unmistakeable. Impatience burned in

him like a beacon, *willing* the others to find him.


Chester knew at once that Mike would not be easy to speak to. In his

experience, once a Man had succumbed to emotion, convincing him to listen to

reason was akin to reversing a waterfall.


"Ah, I am sorry I must do this," Chester murmured regretfully. He raised his

bow, drew careful aim and let loose an arrow.


Mike stiffened at the sound, but could not move fast enough. The arrowhead

pierced the upraised sleeve of his tunic, forcing the waterskin to the ground as

the arrow sunk deeply into the bark of the tree behind him. The air hissed as

another arrow shot from the darkness and stabbed through the fabric of his other

sleeve. Mike struggled, but the arrows pinned his arms tightly to the tree.


"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded as Chester emerged from the

forest. "This is no time for games, Chester. Where's Gimli? We've got to find

Merry and Pippin!"


"This is no game, Mike. Gimli has broken his ankle. I left him back at our

camp."


Mike frowned, ceasing his struggles. "Broken his ankle? When?"


Chester sighed, coming to a stop before the Ranger. "I understand your need to

find the Hobbits, Mike. But you've set a pace that shows no care for body or

spirit. Gimli has fallen, yet in your haste you have unwittingly abandoned us.

As strong of heart as Gimli is, he cannot continue this way. He needs one day of

recovery, at the least."


Pain darkened the Man's face. "One day that we fall behind is one more day Merry

and Pippin are left in the foul clutches of the orcs. I cannot -- nay, will not

-- let that happen. Though I am sorry for it, we must leave Gimli behind."


Shock left Chester momentarily speechless. This was not the Man that he knew.

The faces of Gandalf and Boromir suddenly came to mind. Perhaps the

transformation had occurred beneath Chester' very nose.


"Mike," he pleaded, stepping close, "you cannot mean this. Gimli cannot

remain by himself. He is injured. He would be unable to defend himself."


The barest flicker of shame passed through the Man's brown eyes. "Then you shall

remain by his side and I will find the Hobbits on my own. They are my

responsibility. I will not fail them as I have the others."


A great sadness welled up in Chester as he studied the Man. With the passing of

Gandalf, leadership had fallen to the one amongst them who had held no interest

in determining the fates of others. The burden Mike had never wanted weighed

heavily upon him now.


"You are but a Man," Chester reminded him softly. He caught the stubbled chin in

his hand and forced the brown eyes to meet his. "You cannot hold us all within

the embrace of your protection."


"I have no choice!" Mike spat back, angrily. "Gandalf entrusted the

Fellowship to me, Chester. I lost Boromir, I could not protect Frodo -- Release

me and let me do what I must!"


"Nay, you are being a fool --"


"I said release me, Chester. Unlike an Elf, I actually care about matters of

life and death!"


Outrage widened the Elf's eyes. Coldness settled along his spine. "Take care in

what you say, *Man*." Contempt twisted the word as he had never used it before.

"Even should I release you, you would only meet your doom at the hands of the

orcs. And I *do* care about that. Without me by your side you are weak and

blinded by haste. You forget what you are: a healer, a leader of Men, one who

would be king. Though you are strong, by yourself you are not invincible."


Mike raised his chin. "I am strong enough to fight you."


Grim amusement twisted Chester' lips. "Indeed? I'd wager that even my lightest

touch could defeat you."


Mike laughed. "Boastfulness is unbecoming an Elf."


A warning went off in Chester' head. "I'd prove you wrong." The warning grew

louder, but he ignored it. He knew well the many weaknesses of Men. In

particular, he knew of Mike's. Holding the Man's gaze, Chester laid his palm

upon the other's chest. "If I am able to show you your weakness, will you agree

to stay and wait with us?"


For the first time, anger gave way to resignation. "You waste time better spent

on Merry and Pippin. Have you no heart?" When Chester remained silent, his face

stony, Mike sighed wearily. He licked his lips. "If this is what you must do

before you will let me go, so be it. I give you leave to try."


Relief passed through Chester, but curiously, he could not relax. His hand

curled upon Mike's chest, clutching the fabric. "As strong as you think you

are, I will show you how you are weaker. Never forget this, Mike of Arathorn,

for I hope it will slow your step when you would stumble forward blindly."


He raised his hand and Mike tensed as though prepared to be struck. But

Chester intended torture of a very different nature. He laid his palm, ever so

gently, against the Man's cheek. Mike flinched and pulled his head away but

Chester maintained the contact. The bristles of the Man's beard were scratchy

beneath his palm. But when he brushed his thumb over the bottom edge of the

Man's lip, he discovered a pillowy softness.


"Stop this," Mike whispered suddenly. The Elf looked into his eyes and read

the fear there. "Why are you doing this?"


Chester watched his thumb stroke slowly back and forth across the Man's lip,

coaxing the Ranger's mouth to open. "Sometimes we need a lesson in humility,

Mike. You have forgotten you are but a Man. I am here to remind you."


The Elf moved his hands to Mike's shoulders and pressed their lips together.

The Ranger went still against him, but Chester did not stop the kiss. He moved

his lips gently against the other's, keeping his touch light. After a moment of

this, he tried nipping Mike's top lip before sucking the fuller bottom lip

into his mouth. A shudder passed through the Man's body as Chester sucked

lightly on the plump flesh. The Elf opened his mouth wider and flicked his

tongue out, tapping against the closed resistance of teeth.


"Open for me," Chester murmured into his mouth. "I won't hurt you."


Mike made a sound as if affronted, then opened to the Elf's probing tongue.

Heat rushed into Chester as the Man's hot breath filled him. He sent his tongue

questing into the Ranger's mouth and encountered the firm slickness of Mike's

tongue, lying in wait. Their tongues met hesitantly at first, then slid over and

around each other with growing boldness.


Chester had expected this. Since leaving Rivendell, he had recognized the need

that shadowed he and Mike's every exchange. Yes, he had known the Man desired

him. Only, he had not been prepared for the intensity of it...Mike growled

against him. His body fairly vibrated with barely restrained passion. The Elf

found himself caught up in the fervency of the Man's kiss. Felt himself losing

control of the situtation...


Chester pushed his fingers into the long strands of Mike's hair, clutching at

the Man's head to hold him tight. A moan slid from Mike's throat down the

Elf's. Not sure how it had happened, Chester found himself crushed full length

against the Ranger, every inch of contact a spark upon his fevered senses. The

sleeping dragon Chester had sought to awaken now stirred hotly against his

stomach as Mike ground his hips forward.


The Ranger's skin was an inferno that sought to consume. Feeling the scorch,

Chester broke off the kiss, ignoring Mike's groan of protest. He dragged his

mouth and tongue along the lightly furred jaw. He found the pulse that raced in

the hollow of the Man's throat and licked it. Restrained by the arrows, Mike

nevertheless tried to clutch at Chester when the Elf straightened and pulled

back.


"Don't go --"


Passion flooded Chester at the desperate plea. Instinctively, he discarded his

bow and quiver, then pulled quickly at the ties of his tunic. A cool rush of air

passed over his heated flesh. With its sobering touch came reason. Chester

blinked. He dropped his hands. What was he doing? He had already broken Mike,

proved him undone by his desire for the Elf. Why was he continuing?


"Chester."


The Elf raised his head, focusing on the bound Ranger. Mike watched him with

a hunger that was almost frightening. "Take off your tunic, Chester." His tone

left no doubt that it was a command and not a request.


"Nay, this has gone far enough. I --"


"Take. It. Off," Mike bit out.


Chester shut his eyes, helpless as a wave of desire rushed through him. "Do as I

say," Mike continued, his voice low and husky. "You started this. I'm going

to see it's done right. Take it off."


Chester raised his hands to the hem of his tunic and started to yank it off, but

Aragon's voice stopped him. "Slowly," the Man instructed, his eyes gleaming in

the falling darkness. "Take it off slowly."


Heat crested his cheekbones, but Chester slowed his movements. He drew the rough

fabric up, baring his naked skin inch by inch. The chill air made him suck in

his stomach, but it was Mike's unwavering stare that caused the gooseflesh to

break out over his skin. Though he was held immobile against the tree, Chester

felt almost as if it were Mike pulling his tunic up. When the fabric lifted

above Chester'chest, the Ranger's intent brown gaze caused the Elf's nipples to

draw up as tightly as though the Man's fingers had pinched them.


"You are cold," Mike murmured, noticing the reaction. His tongue flicked out

to wet his lips, making Chester fight back a moan. The Elf drew his tunic

completely over his head and let it drop to the ground beside him.


"Come here," the Man said. Chester stepped up to him, feeling the heat that

radiated. "Give me your finger." Chester hesitated, then slipped his forefinger

into the Man's open mouth. The Elf's knees nearly buckled as Mike's tongue

swirled wetly around him. He felt himself grow painfully tight within his

leggings as the Man licked and sucked him. Just as his eyes fluttered shut,

Mike opened his mouth. Chester opened his eyes and pulled his hand back.

Mike smiled. "Now touch yourself."


Chester knew he blushed. He hoped the darkness hid it. Unable to meet the Man's

steady gaze, he dropped his eyes as he lightly touched a nipple with his wet

finger. "Oh --" he sighed, startled by the pinpoint of pleasure. He drew a lazy

circle around the nub, spreading the moistness of Mike's mouth upon his

flesh. If possible, his nipple clenched even tighter as the cold air bit.

Chester shivered, moved his hand to his other nipple and plucked at it with his

wet finger.


He heard Mike shift against the tree, heard the Man mutter a curse beneath

his breath. Chester did not look up. Instead, he closed his eyes and raised his

other hand to his chest.


Never before had he fully appreciated the subtle texture in his hands and

fingers. Callouses that served him well as an archer now drew deliciously rough

across sensitive skin. Nails that before had been merely functional became

instruments of pleasure as they scratched a path of fire up his ribcage.


Yet even more exciting was to imagine that it was *he* -- Mike -- who was

handling him with such a knowing touch. It was Mike's skillful thumb that

caressed the plane of Chester' collarbone. It was the Ranger's deft fingers that

traced the firm ridges of rib and stomach. Chester stroked down the sides of his

waist and moaned aloud at the flash of sensation it elicited. Mike's

answering groan quickly followed. Awash in the pleasure he -- they -- were

creating, Chester barely heard the Ranger speak.


"Chester, undo your leggings." The Elf slowly opened his eyes. Mike's face

was dark and sheened with desire. "Undo them," the Man repeated huskily. "Pull

them down and let me see you."


Admitting he had lost all control of the situation and no longer caring, Chester

dropped his hands to the top of his leggings. Now that his hands were closer to

the source of his pleasure, Chester realized that he was fully enflamed. He

ached beneath the restraint of his leggings. Removing them would be a relief.


"Go on," Mike urged, jerking ineffectually against the arrows. "Take them

off."


The Man's obvious helplessness made Chester bolder. He kept his eyes on

Mike's as he hooked his thumbs in the fabric and gradually drew it down over

the prominent bulge of his erection. Holding eye contact, he stepped out of the

leggings and waited.


Mike's head fell back against the tree with a dull thud. Desire rose,

undisguised, between the Man's legs. Mike's brown eyes worshipped the Elf

standing naked before him.


"Gods, you are beautiful, Chester," he breathed. "How I long to wrap my lips

around you and taste every inch of your flesh." He emitted a pained laugh as

Chester trembled. "If my words were my hands, I have undone you, my fair Elf.

Let me unwind you a little more. Wrap your hand around that lovely cock."


Chester did as he was told, releasing a pent-up breath as the friction pushed

him just a little bit further over the edge.


"Tell me what you feel like," Mike urged.


Chester spread his fingers, discovering every curve and hollow of his swollen

flesh. He pulled his fingers over the glistening tip, shuddering at the burst of

pleasure.


"You look so hard," Mike continued in a strained voice. "Tell me how hard you

are."


"Ai, yes!" Chester answered desperately, stroking lightly along his length. "I

feel as hard and stiff as Anduril right now. It pains me, yet it feel so good."

He began to stroke himself in ernest.


But Mike would not let him. "Nay!" he protested fiercely. "Go slowly. If I

must suffer this torture, than so shall you. Close your eyes, Chester." He

waited until the Elf complied. "Now imagine that it is my hand upon you. I would

stroke you slowly, yet firmly, as though I am measuring your length and deciding

how it would feel deep within me."


Chester could not help the soft whimper that escaped him. His hips thrust

forward, trying to force a faster pace into his hand. He willed himself still.


"Feel how stiff you are, how hot." Mike's voice thickened. "Feel the wetness

that you smear across the tip to prepare yourself for me."


This was indeed torture, Chester thought. It was a struggle to maintain eye

contact as he used his thumb to slicken the senstive head of his erection. Each

teasing pass over the throbbing tip made him tremble in pained pleasure.


"Are you wet enough?"


"Yes..." the Elf gasped.


A smirk was in Mike's voice. "I don't think you are. I want you to be

dripping, Chester."


Elvish curses rent the air. "Don't make me hurt you, Mike."


"Ah, but maybe that's what I want." Chester strained to hear above the tide of

blood in his ears. "I want you to shove that cock into me now, Chester. Push it

in, hard!"


Chester tightened his fist and thrust forward with a relieved groan. In his

mind, it was Mike's body he was breaching, the Man's tight flesh that

squeezed him so exquisitely. The Elf's lips parted as he pumped mindlessly into

his fist, each savage thrust a deeper plunge into the Man who would be king. He

heard himself emitting panting cries as he neared his peak. Mike was speaking

to him, encouraging him, but Chester was too far gone to make sense of the

words. Deep, deeper he drilled into Mike --


The Man's voice finally broke through his concentration. "Make me come, Chester

--"


It was too much. Chester gasped, shuddered violently. Liquid heat spilled over

his hand, sprinkled upon the ground. Lights blinked behind his eyes. He wanted

to collapse.


"Chester --"


Mike's choked call roused the Elf to look up. The Man strained desperately

against the arrows, his hands unable to reach the source of his torment. Chester

summoned his strength and staggered to the tree, dropping to his knees before

the Ranger. The Man's cock was swelled to bursting. Mike cried out when

Chester took him swiftly into his mouth.


Mike was not long in finding his relief. A few demanding strokes of the Elf's

tongue and Mike came with an explosive convulsion that left him hanging

weakly from his bonds. Chester licked his lips of the Man's essence and stood.

With the remainder of his strength, he braced his foot upon the tree and yanked

the arrows free. Mike fell into his arms.


"You have proven my weakness," Mike panted, leaning back. "You win." A wry

smile was on his face. "It seems I am woefully mortal when it comes to you, my

fair Elf."


Chester shook his head ruefully. "Weakness is not solely the province of Man, as

I have so gracelessly demonstrated. Neither of us, it seems, is strong enough to

be without the other."


Mike nodded and some of his previous seriousness returned. "We will wait for

Gimli to recover before we head out again. The Fellowship has been scattered

enough as it is. It will not be broken further."


The Elf smiled in relief. "That is all I ask. Thank you."


A grin suddenly creased the Ranger's face. "Ah, but Chester, I am curious. The

teacher sets out to teach a lesson and instead learns from the pupil." He

laughed. "How is this so?"


Chester glared at him. For the second time that night, Elvish curses split the

air.



The End.

Reviews Add review