(no subject)
“Turn to your side a moment.”
“Aragorn,” Frodo groaned. “Do not ask me to move - my back aches already.”
Aragorn helped Frodo turn, and Frodo felt terribly large and clumsy, as he imagined the Big Folk felt all the time.
Aragorn’s hands found Frodo’s hips, slipping under his nightshirt.
Frodo blushed. “Aragorn…no.”
Aragorn chuckled a little. “Nay, not that.” His strong hands massaged the nearly constant throb in Frodo’s hips that had started as soon has his belly had protruded.
Frodo knew Aragorn’s hands-the same that wielded his sword with deadly force-could be gentle - but this was divine.
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