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Title: Submission
Author: Theresa Green
Fandom/Pairing: LOTR - Legolas/Gimli
Raiting: NC-17
Warning: Kink - peeing.
Disclaimer: Theresa made this all up. I’m sure of it.
Note: I wrote the Drinking Game, and pir8fancier wrote abut Legolas and Gimli having a pissing contest, and Theresa felt left out, so she joined in the peeing fun!
Submission
It had always been part of his sexual identity, this desire to be dominated. He could never remember a time when he hadn’t been aroused by his own helplessness and another’s control over him.
As he sat under the trees of Ithilien, Legolas thought back to the first mortal lover he had taken – a serving maid in Laketown, by the name of Ressa. She spent all of her time following the peremptory orders of the innkeeper, doing as she was told, lowering her eyes from a direct stare. She was a model of efficient obedience. When she had come to Legolas’ room in the inn at a whispered suggestion from the Elf, he was sure that she expected to be ordered about once again. Legolas could still remember the look of surprise and delight on her face when he had held out his hands, wrists crossed, as he knelt in front of her, looking up through his long lashes like a frightened animal. And that obedient young woman had taken charge of him as if born to command. She had mounted him with a look of exaltation in her eyes; an Elven prince was tied to the bed and moaning helplessly underneath her as she powered her hips in a teasing undulation. And she had smiled down at him as she fingered her clit, stroking herself to a shivering, shuddering orgasm—
—and then dismounted from him, leaving the Elf whimpering in frustration. She sat beside him on the bed, trailing lazy fingers across his trembling muscles, taking pains to avoid any contact with his rigid cock, until he was begging her, pleading with her, to give him release. After what seemed like a decade and a half, she had locked eye contact with him, reached down between her legs to get her fingers dripping wet, and then taken his shaft in her fist, jerking him off with firm, fast strokes.
The next day she had bobbed a curtsey to him when she served at the dinner table. She was the quintessence of servility. He was the calm, confident leader of the Elven trading party. And that was all part of the delicious game; she was his servant during the day and his mistress in the bedroom.
They had spent five or six nights together before Legolas travelled home, and when he had returned to Laketown two years later, he had seen her married and bearing a belly huge with child. Legolas had felt a pang of jealousy towards her husband who would be enjoying her talents for a few years to come. He had never seen her again. But her face remained clear in his mind – sensual brown eyes looking down at him with hauteur that would grace and Elven princess.
And then there was Tal, or Talaven to give him his full name – Legolas’ second-in-command in Thranduil’s company of elite archers. They worked together for years beyond count. Legolas made the decisions, gave the orders, took the responsibility, and Tal carried everything through with precision and efficiency. They were a formidable team in a military context. Tal never questioned Legolas’ choices, not even with so much as a raised eyebrow. Legolas was Captain of Archers and Thranduil’s son – not an Elf to be disrespected.
But Legolas remembered crawling on his belly across the bedroom floor to lie at Tal’s feet, kissing the older Elf’s ankles and calves, begging to be fucked, rocking his hips to grind his erection into the rug, so desperate was he to come.
And now he had Gimli.
The Dwarf understood him so well. Had explained to Legolas why it was that the Elf needed to be dominated sexually. Had found endlessly entertaining ways to bring that submission about. Had occasionally turned things on their head and persuaded the Elf to be the dominant one so that he could appreciate the other’s point of view. But always came back to the fundamental basics of their relationship – Gimli was in charge, Gimli did the fucking and Legolas took whatever the Dwarf chose to give him. Fortunately for Legolas, what Gimli chose to give was love, sensitivity, tenderness, and, when the mood suited, a shafting so godsdamn hard that the Elf was almost rendered unconscious.
Now what had been Gimli’s explanation for all this? Legolas smiled to himself as he recalled the Dwarf’s words as they lay in bed together one afternoon:
“You see you are not a natural leader.”
“Oh, thank you so very much for that vote of confidence!”
“No, I did not say that you are not a good leader; just not a natural one. Your predisposition is to obey orders rather than to give them. But you are the son of a King, my dear Elf. Yours is not to follow, but to lead.”
“True enough.”
“And you face this situation as best you can, trying to make the right choices, trying to lead your colony to prosperity and happiness. Like all leaders, you worry that you are doing the right thing, but you cannot show this anxiety to anyone under your command. You have to be confident and decisive for their sake.”
“And where exactly do my sexual predilections come into this?”
“Ah, well! The only place that you can give in to your desire to follow rather than lead, is in the bedroom. When you’ve got your legs round me, you have no choices to make, my love. I make them all for you.”
“I see.”
“Doesn’t it make perfect sense?”
“Yes. I like to be dominated in bed because I can’t allow myself to be dominated anywhere else.”
“Exactly. You know that I am right!”
“Good. Well, in that case, Gimli, pass me the oil because I am going to give you a rogering that will leave you bow-legged for a week.”
“You just have to prove me wrong don’t you!”
“Shut up and roll over!”
*~*~*~*~*
Under the sheltering boughs of Ithilien, Legolas laughed quietly at his memories. What a lover Gimli was! The Elf never failed to be aroused by Gimli’s sturdy muscularity, his air of confidence, his sheer enthusiasm for the act of love. The Dwarf had an uncanny knack for thinking up new ways in which they could romp – ‘variations on the theme of orgasm’ as Legolas once described their sex-life – and the Elf was very much looking forward to the arrival of Gimli from Aglarond today. He was confident that his beloved Dwarf would have thought of something new to try. And Legolas himself had something in mind that he might persuade Gimli to do. At least he hoped Gimli would be amenable. It was rather kinky. Even Gimli had his limits. They hadn’t found them yet, but Legolas was sure that Gimli must have some. What he was thinking of asking for was somewhat esoteric. Taboo even.
Well, fortune favours the brave, Legolas had once heard. He would ask and await Gimli’s decision. The Elf was not even sure that he, Legolas, would enjoy the act in question – he had never done it before – but he was itching to find out.
And here he was! Gimli! Stomping through the trees with his pack on his back and a Dwarvish marching song on his lips, completely unaware of the solitary wood-elf watching his progress along the path to the settlement in Ithilien. Legolas felt a surge of affection wash over him at the sight of his lover’s compact form, trudging with his usual heaviness.
The Elf waited until the Dwarf drew level with him and then burst out of the undergrowth at full speed, tackling the short figure round his middle and bowling him over with a cry of “Elvellon!”
Inevitably there was a tussle, pushing and shoving, rolling over and over, half fighting, half embracing, until they came to a halt against the roots of a tree with Legolas pinned under Gimli’s not inconsiderable weight.
“You demented Elf! One of these days you are going to scare me into an early grave!” A cuff round the head. “Why can’t you just say ‘Hello’?” A poke in the ribs. “By Durin’s beard, I’ve missed you!” A hot, deep kiss, and pack being shrugged off. . and cloak. . . and shirt. . .
Legolas rolled Gimli over and buried his face in the profuse beard, moaning softly, and then biting at the hair across Gimli’s barrel chest. He loved the feel of the coarse hair against his lips, loved the way the Dwarf pushed gently on his head to move his mouth to a large brown nipple and groaned as the Elf’s mouth tortured the nub to hardness.
Gimli’s hands pushed impatiently at Legolas clothes, eager to get to that impossibly smooth skin. Seams ripped and cloth tore under the Dwarf’s strong hands until Gimli could drag his hands possessively over his lover’s willowy body.
“Oh, Legolas! I have missed you so much! Morgoth’s balls, Elf, I want to take you here and now. I have to have you! Got to get inside you!”
The Elf growled deep in this throat and pulled frantically at Gimli’s leggings. “Cock! Want your cock!”
Gimli was incandescent with lust. The sound of that word from the mouth of an Elven prince never failed to inflame him. “You are going to get cock, my lad! Oh, my gods, yes!”
The undergrowth was soon littered with discarded clothing – one of Gimli’s boots made it as far as the lowest branch of a beech tree – and the air was filled with the sound of moans and wet kisses.
“Gimli! Ah, Gimli, I want something!”
“Anything, my love!” said the Dwarf raising his head from between the Elf’s legs where he had been reacquainting himself with Legolas’ balls.
“Please, Gimli!” gasped the Elf. “Saes! Please!”
“What is it? Anything at all!”
“Piss on me!”
Gimli froze. Had Legolas just said what Gimli thought he had said?
“Piss on you?” Gimli sat up and looked with utter disbelief at the prone Elf. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”
“No! Want you to piss on me. Then I want cock.” Legolas was up on his knees, kissing the Dwarf and murmuring obscenities. “Get it deep inside me, Gimli. Give me your full length, as hard as you can. Ram it inside me, Gimli. Cock! Cock!”
Gimli’s eyes rolled and he groaned with need. He was in danger of coming very soon indeed if the Elf kept up that litany of filth.
“You want me to piss on you?”
“Yes!”
“Why?”
“Just do it!”
“You find it arousing?”
“Yes! I don’t know! Yes! Gimli, please. Just piss! I need this!”
And the Elf lay down, pulling Gimli so that the Dwarf straddled him.
“On all fours Gimli. Piss on my belly!”
Gimli leant forwards so that one hand was on the floor and one rested on his cock. He was not sure that he could do this. He wanted to please his Elf, but it is not easy to pee on demand. In his mind he summoned up images of trickling streams, huge waterfalls, rushing rivers. . . but something held him back.
“Please, Gimli!” The Elf’s voice was edged with utter desperation and lust. “Piss! Please, my love!” And Legolas gave a tiny mewling whimper – a sound that Gimli had heard countless times as he prepared to fuck the Elf, a sound Gimli associated with having his cock pressed against his lover’s arse, seconds before penetration – and it was enough to push him too a decision.
Gimli released and sent a golden stream of piss over Legolas’ belly. The Elf whimpered, looking down at the urine that pooled in his navel and spilled down the sides of his slim waist. Gimli’s aim moved down and he directed his piss along the length of Legolas’ shaft which was lying against his stomach, erect and twitching. The Elf made helpless animal noises as the hot, yellow liquid ran in tiny rivulets across his body. The hard, acrid smell of urine filled the air. Gimli wished this could continue forever – his Elf was on the brink of coming – but the supply of piss was running out. Aaaargh! Why had he not drunk more as he was marching?
Gimli reached down to push his finger into Legolas’ piss-filled navel and then dragged the finger up to circle a nipple, leaving a wet trail on the smooth flesh of the Elf’s torso. With his other hand, he took a firm grip on Legolas’ cock – wet with piss and weeping at the head – and began to stroke him to completion. It took seconds. Legolas’ back arched and the Elf keened aloud as he came, semen mingling with the mess of urine on his belly and chest.
Scooping up a handful of the sticky fluids, Gimli coated his aching shaft. Penetration was a single, savage thrust burying Gimli to the hilt. The coupling was brief but passionate, Gimli lying on top of his Elf, thrusting hard, relishing the feel of the semen and piss that lay between them. Gimli’s orgasm was roared out at the top of his voice.
And then they lay limp and gasping. Gimli rolled off his lover and then lay on his side looking blearily at the Elf.
“Well. . . that was. . . different!”
Legolas smiled in a dazed fashion and reached out one hand to squeeze Gimli’s arm.
“Thank you for indulging me, mellon-nin.”
Gimli gave a half-shrug. “Always willing to oblige, my love. Quite enjoyed it myself, actually. Wouldn’t want to do it in the bedroom, mind.” He looked down at the pair of them, covered in filth and bits of vegetation. “Sauron’s balls, Elf! Look at the state of us! Where is the nearest lake?”
Legolas chuckled. “You can trust me to plan an ambush in detail. There is a stream five minutes walk from here to the north. I’ve even left some soap there. Just in case.”
“Just in case you could persuade any passing Dwarves to piss on you!”
Legolas nodded. “One never knows!”
Gimli laughed, standing up and gathering his clothes. “Come on then.” He held out a hand and pulled the Elf to his feet. “Let’s get washed. And then we can get along to your fine treehouse and make love again in comfort.”
Legolas picked up his clothes.
“Oh, and one more thing, my dear Elf. If you think that you can involve any other bodily functions into our sex-life, then all I can tell you is that you have got another thing coming!”
“Sounds promising!” said Legolas.
Five minutes later the trees echoed with the sounds of a Dwarf trying to duck an Elf under water in a forest stream.
THE END
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