: Never Wanted This (Chapter 2)Rating
: I own nothing except for some of the exceptionally retarded characters (ie : Daged and co.) Everything you recognize or think you recognize probably belongs to Tolkien. This story was written purely for enjoyment. Summary
: Captured by a cruel man determined to break him, Aragorn learns that in a world where he has nothing to lose but life itself, hope is not easily found.Warnings
: Slash, rape, torture, ect. Additional Notes
: This story is AU, it does not take place in Tolkein’s ME. In terms of timelines, Aragorn is approximately 20 years old (in the movies he was 87). Also, I've messed around with the timelines, so certain characters ages don't match up (Denethor).Previous ChaptersChapter 2
Denethor watched in satisfaction as Aragorn's balance began to waver and his eyes lost their sharp focus as the drug took effect.
The steward's son prided himself upon being a man of principles and had spoken truly when he'd told Aragorn that, under his care, the ranger would need not fear either pain or punishment. Denethor honestly hated the manner Daged treated his slave, and doubted whether the unfortunate youth did anything to warrent the majority of the punishments he received or the shameful public acts he was forced to perform. Denethor had been a witness on countless occasions as Aragorn knelt tearfully before his master, desperately ignoring the many sets of eyes that watched him service orally, or was spread over Daged's lap, his naked backside in the air, trying to hide his sobs as his master's hand lay blow after blow upon his exposed skin.
Denethor knew the difference between submission born from fear and pain, and submission willingly given. Before he'd always ignored the distinction and though he'd thrived in the pleasures Aragorn's body had given him, the ranger's tears during the nights had hurt him deeply. He knew that, despite his best intentions, Aragorn would never truly give his body to the steward's son in all willingness. Under that knowledge, Denethor had felt only slight guilt as he'd slipped a healthy dosage of aphrodisiac into Aragorn's wine.
'How are you feeling, Aragorn?' Denethor asked, raising a hand and placing it upon the ranger's shoulder. Aragorn's eyes darted briefly to the hand before returning to Denethor's gaze, a mixture of emotion within his dark eyes.
'Better, I suppose,' he replied, his voice low. His eyes darted back to the hand upon his shoulder and Denethor could plainly read the confusion upon Aragorn face, confusion born from not understanding his body's reaction to Denethor's touch.
'Come sit with me,' Denethor offered, wrapping his arm around Aragorn's slim body and guiding him towards the edge of the hall where large, comfortable couches were located. He selected a vacant one and pulled the youth down beside him, pleased when the ranger instantly curled around him, his head on Denethor's shoulder and one hand resting comfortably on his leg. Denethor ran his hand fondly down the ranger's back and felt a stab of guilt as his action produced a pained gasp when his hand unintentionally brushed over sore welts.
'I'm sorry,' the future steward apologized, mentally scolding himself for forgetting who he dealt with and what Aragorn suffered daily.
Aragorn shook his head, denying the apology. 'You need not apologize, my lord.'
Denethor tipped the ranger's face upwards using his free hand, looking the youth directly in the eyes. He was silent for a moment, reveling in the simple pleasure of having Aragorn in his arms watching him out of unfocused, hazy eyes. The ranger wet his lips, uncomfortable with the tender attention he so rarely received, and his eyes flickered downwards.
'Look at me,' Denethor gently commanded and Aragorn's gaze snapped back up at once, the expression in his eyes a mixture of guilt and apprehension.
Denethor removed his hand from the ranger's face and stroked the youth's hair, running his fingers down the dark tangle of locks to the back of Aragorn's neck, pleased with the shiver his actions produced. Aragorn instinctively leaned closer, desire also showing in his expressive eyes as Denethor's fingers caressed his neck, his touch gentler then any caress Aragorn could remember. The ranger made a quite, content sound and, keeping eye contact, rounded his neck, pressing into the welcome touch.
Denethor gave a quiet sigh, his warm breath ghosting over Aragorn's face, and his fingers tangled in the waves of hair, moving upwards to gently massage the ranger's chaffed neck. Aragorn's eyes fluttered as he relaxed into the touch, ever so slowly moving his head closer to Denethor's own, and he inhaled deeply, his eyes falling closed in bliss.
Denethor's hand stopped and cupped the back of Aragorn's head, applying gentle pressure to encourage the youth to come forwards the inch that was needed for their lips to meet. Aragorn hesitated for the briefest second, demonstrating that the drugged wine had not taken complete control as of yet, and then complied.
The kiss began gently as their lips melted together, their warm breaths mingling between their mouths. Denethor moved his lips gently over Aragorn's own, savoring the sensation as Aragorn responded in turn, his mouth moving to meet the slow pace Denethor had set. The two kissed softly, oblivious to all else as their lips moved against one another, unhurried and undemanding. Aragorn's entire body softened under the attention, his chest pressing against Daged's side as he leaned forwards, his neck stretching to maintain contact, and his arms wrapping around Denethor's body to support him. He relaxed into the kiss, every ounce of unwillingness deserted as the drug took effect and Denethor's kiss pulled him deeper into his passion and farther towards oblivion.
Surprisingly, it was Aragorn who first tried to deepen the kiss, his tongue flickering out to sweep against Denethor's lips, and then retracting as his lips closed to keep the rhythm Denethor had set. Denethor smiled as the ranger tried again, his tongue slipping past the future steward's lips as they separated.
Aragorn's moan as Denethor complied, deepening the kiss and using his own tongue to thoroughly taste the ranger, vibrated throughout his entire body, sending shivers down Denethor's spine. Still, they kept their tempo slow as their tongues entwined and Aragorn once more resumed his submissive role, gently sucking Denethor's tongue into the cavern of his mouth.
Denethor began to gently thrust his tongue into the young ranger's mouth in time with the movement of their lips and Aragorn rocked his head with the motion, his second moan becoming lost the moment it passed into Denethor's mouth. His hands tightened in Denethor's tunic and his body trembled as waves of passion swept through his frame.
The kiss ended and their mouths separated slowly in disappointment, both men panting and flushed. They paused for a moment, each allowing the other to catch his breath before returning for a second kiss. Their lips had barely made contact when a cry to their side alerted them of another's presence.
'Denethor!' Aragorn jerked in surprise and, before he had time to comprehend the action, growled in annoyance. For a moment Denethor turned amused eyes on the ranger before turning his attention, however unwillingly, to the man who had called him.
Rauldon, another of Daged's men, chuckled to himself, shaking his head.
'I've spend the last fifteen minutes looking for you, my lord. I should have known you'd be off on the sidelines with your tongue halfway down that whore's throat.' He waved his arm at Aragorn and the guesture knocked him off balance. Rauldon swayed, hardly keeping upright, and the young ranger sneered at the obvious presence of alcohol.
Denethor stood and the motion knocked Aragorn, who was practically sprawled across his lap, to the ground. Aragorn instantly resumed his seat, his legs curled under him and his arms across his chest. Denethor glanced quickly at him and smiled at the ranger's sullen attitude.
Denethor embraced Rauldon, his long time friend, and motioned for him to take a seat. Rauldon complied, heedless of the young ranger.
'How long have you returned for this time? Will Ecthellion have you running off on another errand immediately?' Rauldon asked.
Denethor chuckled, trying to ignore Aragorn, who's hand had begun to journey slowly up Denethor's leg.
'As far as I know, my father has nothing planned for the immediate future. Perhaps this time I'll actually be allowed to rest for a while before he comes up with yet another use for me.'
Rauldon, more stable since having sat down, nodded. 'Perhaps this time you'll actually have a moment to spend with an old friend.'
Denethor gave him an apologetic smile. 'I've always tried in the past. You know I value the time spent in your company.'
Rauldon gave a crooked grin and sighed, settling back against the cushions and nearly spilt the glass of wine he had in his hands. With a chuckle, Denethor reached ahead to steady it.
Denethor turned to look at Aragorn, his gaze stopping the hand that was steadily moving up his thigh. 'Finish your wine, Aragorn,' he commanded, reminded of the drink by Rauldon's glass. The ranger made a disappointed sound in his throat and withdrew his hand, reaching for the glass on the table at the end of the couch.
Rauldon was in no hurry to depart, and the conversation between him and Denethor progressed for quite some time. Occasionally, Denethor would cast a glance over his shoulder at the obviously impatient Aragorn and was unable to contain his smirk as, on more then one occasion, Denethor caught the ranger gazing into the crowd with undisguised desire, his empty glass back on the end table.
At last, Rauldon said farewell, claiming the next day would bring him enough grief as the result of his intoxication without sleep deprivation. Denethor watched as he stumbled from the hall, certain that, even in his state, Rauldon would have little problems getting to his rooms. Denethor turned back to Aragorn and had barely had time to register the ranger's quick movements before he found himself propelled onto his back as the youth lunged on top of him, sucking the breath from Denethor's lungs in the most frantic kiss the steward's son had ever witnessed.
Even as Denethor was still struggling to comprehend what had just taken place, Aragorn's hand dropped between their bodies to skillfully bring Denethor to full hardness at once. The youth moaned quietly, unable to restrain himself for any longer, and ground his hips on Denethor's thigh, panting in pleasure.
Denethor quickly grabbed at Aragorn's hand and forcefully pushed the ranger back off of him, surprised by the intensity in the young ranger's eyes. Aragorn allowed himself to be manhandled to a point, and then stubbornly refused to back any further, leaving Denethor sitting upright again with a very aroused Aragorn straddling his thighs.
'Please,' Aragorn begged, his voice ragged from arousal. 'Take me, my lord. I can't wait any longer.' He ground his hips forward.
Denethor looked into the ranger's eyes, shinning in frustration and dark with desire, and felt his resistance tremble. This had been what he'd wanted when he'd given Aragorn the aphrodisiac, had it not?
What he had not expected, however, was the intensity with which the ranger accepted his drug induced desire. Under the passionate youth’s sinful actions Denethor’s resistance became no more then a fleeting memory and before long Aragorn, all inhibitions vanished, panted and moaned wantonly as Denethor used his body once in the hall, and then many times over the course of the night in the confines of his own private chambers.TBC