LOTR FIC: The Artistry of Pleasure (1/5)
May. 26th, 2005 08:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fimbrethielTitle: The Artistry of Pleasure (1/5)
Author: Fimbrethiel
LiveJournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/fimbrethiel/
Email: fimbrethiel @ yahoo.com
Type: FPS
Pairing: Erestor/Lindir
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: **explicit** depictions of homoerotic acts between consenting males, light bondage, some kink, toys, language, unapologetic filth
Disclaimer: Don’t own the Elves, they are owned by Tolkien’s estate. Master Tolkien, I mean no harm. No profit has been made.
Original date of completion: May 26, 2005
Summary: Erestor prepares a surprise for his lover. Erestor’s POV.
Author’s Note: This smutty little bunny has been nipping at my bum for months now. The tone and content differs from my usual fiction, as you will see from the use of language and the more casual, conversational style. Please don’t take this seriously, folks – it’s all in fun. *grin*
~*~*~*~*~
I accepted the small, wrapped bundle from the maid and nodded my thanks, then closed the door behind her. I snapped the string and unfolded the bit of parchment. Into my palm fell a small, black stone; its obsidian surface was smooth, almost oily feeling, gleaming darkly in the lighted bedroom. Written on the slip of parchment was a message, short and succinct, written in my lover’s flowing script.
‘I will join you in one hour.’
The afternoon had passed with agonizing slowness. Dinner was a tedious affair, despite the twins' occasionally raucous laughter and Glorfindel's playful banter. Lindir’s absence was unremarkable; it was not unusual for my lover to practice straight through the meal and take a light supper later in the privacy of his quarters, or have his dinner delivered directly to the conservatory for his troupe of musicians.
By the time the meal was over, I had almost given up hope that my invitation would be accepted. It was with no small measure of exhilaration – and a goodly mix of apprehension – that the message from the chambermaid was finally delivered and the answering stone returned.
The significance of the stone? The game we had played for many a year, as a way to keep our lovemaking new and exciting, was very simple. Two interchangeable bits of stone: one question, two possible answers. The presentation of one stone signified the question – “Will you?”
The stone I delivered was a pink, smoothly polished bit of quartz, slipped unobtrusively into his pocket during an affectionate kiss on the cheek and a surreptitious lick to the pink shell of his ear. By the time Lindir pulled back, surprised by my uncharacteristic behavior in such public surroundings, I had moved away and was already involved in a discussion with Elrond and Glorfindel. Lindir caught my eye, and I gave him a sly wink and quickly maneuvered Glorfindel between us.
My lover’s response in the affirmative was indicated by the return of the second stone – a small chunk of highly polished black quartz no bigger than an arrowhead – the answer equally as simple as the question: “I will.”
Tonight I issued the invitation, but Lindir equally initiated our games. Some of our games were successful, and some less so. I recalled with some discomfort the experiment with hot wax, which left reddened welts upon my fair skin for two days. Lindir had been horrified and guilt-ridden over the injury he had caused, even though I had assured him there was no permanent harm.
Other games had left us doubled over with laughter… the feather incident immediately came to mind. In all our years together, I had never realized how ticklish my lover was, especially in that one particular spot just above the bottom of his ribs. The harder Lindir had giggled, the less control of my own mirth I had, until we fell back on the bed howling with laughter and clutching at each other. Ultimately the game was forgotten, and the remainder of the night was spent in making the beast with two backs.
It was a good night.
Realizing the time was passing more quickly than I had anticipated, I bathed and washed my hair, then toweled it dry and braided the raven mass into a loose single braid in the fashion he liked to see it worn when we were alone. He always said he liked the way it felt coiled around his hand when he rode me.
As I dressed in a long, cobalt bed robe that was left belted loosely around my waist, I went over my plans and checked my supplies with almost obsessive fervor. The details had been in the making for months, the equipment delivered weeks ago, the invitation mere hours before, but I was nervous despite the extensive planning.
Just before the hour was up, I hurriedly spread a thick blanket over my preferred bed coverings of luxuriant cottons and silks, then gathered my toys and arranged them carefully in a large woven basket along with a few small hand towels.
Before closing the lid, though, I hesitated and perused the contents carefully. One item caught my interest. Smiling slyly, I tucked the basket out of sight under the bed and carried my treasure to the bathroom. It was stowed safely out of sight, hidden among a stack of bath towels within easy reach.
Lindir had no idea what was in store for him.
*~*~* To be continued… *~*~*
Author: Fimbrethiel
LiveJournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/fimbrethiel/
Email: fimbrethiel @ yahoo.com
Type: FPS
Pairing: Erestor/Lindir
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: **explicit** depictions of homoerotic acts between consenting males, light bondage, some kink, toys, language, unapologetic filth
Disclaimer: Don’t own the Elves, they are owned by Tolkien’s estate. Master Tolkien, I mean no harm. No profit has been made.
Original date of completion: May 26, 2005
Summary: Erestor prepares a surprise for his lover. Erestor’s POV.
Author’s Note: This smutty little bunny has been nipping at my bum for months now. The tone and content differs from my usual fiction, as you will see from the use of language and the more casual, conversational style. Please don’t take this seriously, folks – it’s all in fun. *grin*
~*~*~*~*~
I accepted the small, wrapped bundle from the maid and nodded my thanks, then closed the door behind her. I snapped the string and unfolded the bit of parchment. Into my palm fell a small, black stone; its obsidian surface was smooth, almost oily feeling, gleaming darkly in the lighted bedroom. Written on the slip of parchment was a message, short and succinct, written in my lover’s flowing script.
‘I will join you in one hour.’
The afternoon had passed with agonizing slowness. Dinner was a tedious affair, despite the twins' occasionally raucous laughter and Glorfindel's playful banter. Lindir’s absence was unremarkable; it was not unusual for my lover to practice straight through the meal and take a light supper later in the privacy of his quarters, or have his dinner delivered directly to the conservatory for his troupe of musicians.
By the time the meal was over, I had almost given up hope that my invitation would be accepted. It was with no small measure of exhilaration – and a goodly mix of apprehension – that the message from the chambermaid was finally delivered and the answering stone returned.
The significance of the stone? The game we had played for many a year, as a way to keep our lovemaking new and exciting, was very simple. Two interchangeable bits of stone: one question, two possible answers. The presentation of one stone signified the question – “Will you?”
The stone I delivered was a pink, smoothly polished bit of quartz, slipped unobtrusively into his pocket during an affectionate kiss on the cheek and a surreptitious lick to the pink shell of his ear. By the time Lindir pulled back, surprised by my uncharacteristic behavior in such public surroundings, I had moved away and was already involved in a discussion with Elrond and Glorfindel. Lindir caught my eye, and I gave him a sly wink and quickly maneuvered Glorfindel between us.
My lover’s response in the affirmative was indicated by the return of the second stone – a small chunk of highly polished black quartz no bigger than an arrowhead – the answer equally as simple as the question: “I will.”
Tonight I issued the invitation, but Lindir equally initiated our games. Some of our games were successful, and some less so. I recalled with some discomfort the experiment with hot wax, which left reddened welts upon my fair skin for two days. Lindir had been horrified and guilt-ridden over the injury he had caused, even though I had assured him there was no permanent harm.
Other games had left us doubled over with laughter… the feather incident immediately came to mind. In all our years together, I had never realized how ticklish my lover was, especially in that one particular spot just above the bottom of his ribs. The harder Lindir had giggled, the less control of my own mirth I had, until we fell back on the bed howling with laughter and clutching at each other. Ultimately the game was forgotten, and the remainder of the night was spent in making the beast with two backs.
It was a good night.
Realizing the time was passing more quickly than I had anticipated, I bathed and washed my hair, then toweled it dry and braided the raven mass into a loose single braid in the fashion he liked to see it worn when we were alone. He always said he liked the way it felt coiled around his hand when he rode me.
As I dressed in a long, cobalt bed robe that was left belted loosely around my waist, I went over my plans and checked my supplies with almost obsessive fervor. The details had been in the making for months, the equipment delivered weeks ago, the invitation mere hours before, but I was nervous despite the extensive planning.
Just before the hour was up, I hurriedly spread a thick blanket over my preferred bed coverings of luxuriant cottons and silks, then gathered my toys and arranged them carefully in a large woven basket along with a few small hand towels.
Before closing the lid, though, I hesitated and perused the contents carefully. One item caught my interest. Smiling slyly, I tucked the basket out of sight under the bed and carried my treasure to the bathroom. It was stowed safely out of sight, hidden among a stack of bath towels within easy reach.
Lindir had no idea what was in store for him.
*~*~* To be continued… *~*~*
