LOTR FIC: The Artistry of Pleasure (3/5)
May. 26th, 2005 08:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fimbrethielTitle: The Artistry of Pleasure (3/5)
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.
~*~*~*~*~
“Well,” I said with a confidence I did not quite feel, “let’s get started.”
In truth, now that the time was here, I was nervous. Celeborn had assured me in his letters that his own Galadhel plaything was capable of much more than what I had ultimately agreed upon for my lover… which did nothing to lessen my apprehensions. Young Orophin was proficient at handling an astonishing amount of creativity on the Lord of the Wood’s part, but in my own case, I was hesitant to push Lindir’s limits too far or too fast.
It was now or never, or I would lose my nerve.
“Now then, shall we begin?” I asked him imperiously, taking on the efficient, clinical manner I habitually wore in Council chambers – the one that gave me the reputation of chill efficiency and cold logic.
Ha, I thought amusedly. If Elrond’s contemporaries could only witness the activities within my bedchamber, my reputation would be torn to shreds.
Reaching for the pillows I had thrown aside earlier, I held one up and swatted Lindir’s bottom lightly with the flat of my hand. “Now lift.”
“No.”
I blinked. “Did you just say ‘no’?”
“That is precisely what I said,” Lindir replied.
This was going to be easier than I thought. In truth, I had been uncertain how to broach the subject, and so it was with absolutely convincing skill, Lindir turned my own game on me and established his own rules.
Not only could my lover sing like a lark, compose breathtaking ballads, recite poetry, and play virtually any instrument by ear, but he was also an accomplished thespian. A decade or so ago, Lindir wrote and performed a dramatization of the Fall of Gondolin that had sent Glorfindel’s poor wife to their chambers, moved to tears, though his death and rebirth had occurred well before the two had even met and married. Even the exalted Lord of the Golden Flower had a suspicious shine in his eye, though he was obviously alive and well, none the worse for wear, and with a wife and three children to boot.
“Lift, I said,” and I smacked a bit harder this time. The delectable, pert bottom flushed rosy from my strike.
“And I said – no.”
Another smack sounded, and the precise brand of a handprint appeared on the other buttock. I hissed, “Lift. Your. Ass.”
Lindir flinched at the sharp sting, and finally, obediently, raised his hips and wriggled up awkwardly to allow me to tuck two thick pillows under his pelvis. One more pillow was maneuvered under his chest, so he lay flat on his stomach with his rear in the air and a bit of support under his upper body, easing the strain on his back and outstretched arms.
“You have been impertinent. I expect an apology is forthcoming?” I asked, slipping fully into the role he had cast for me.
Lindir laughed derisively. “I think not.”
Valar, how I love him.
“Then you shall be punished for your insolence,” I said haughtily, and drew the wicker basket out from under the bed.
Within Lindir’s limited range of vision, I spread a hand towel out on the bed and on it arranged a collection of objects neatly arrayed by size. In an orderly row lay an assortment of leather-wrapped dilators in graduated sizes, a jar of thick salve, and one last bundle wrapped in heavy parchment that I set a little off to the side but still within his sight.
“Ah…” was Lindir’s only response, though his eyes gleamed speculatively over the array of toys.
“Do you like what you see?” I asked, and smiled. It was a cold, calculating smile, with many white, gleaming teeth. A smile that would have sent anyone else but Lindir running for the border of Imladris as fast as their legs would carry them. I often practice that look in the mirror. It is an effective deterrent to unwanted behavior by two particular young Peredhil.
“It depends on what is in yon parcel,” Lindir said a bit hesitantly, tipping his head toward the mysterious paper-wrapped bundle the best he could. “What’s that?”
I tutted and wagged a finger under his nose. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
He eyed the bundle suspiciously, but remained silent.
Suddenly I couldn’t wait to begin. I rubbed my hands together, wondering how long it would be before Lindir begged me to stop and fuck him through those pillows and down into the floor. My cock was already twitching, nosing around eagerly under my robe, and working up the energy for another splendid erection.
Those smooth, rounded buttocks were so enticing, nicely pinked from the smacks I had given them. I spread Lindir’s buttocks with my palms, my long fingers spread around the perfect globes and baring his tiny, wrinkled opening. Leaning forward, I lapped delicately at the crease, skimming over the hole with a bare touch. Warm, moist breath bathed Lindir’s buttocks, and the pink pucker contracted and winked back at me.
Oh yes, we were ready to play. Yes, indeed.
I thumbed open the stopper on the jar and scooped a small amount of the thick salve on two fingers and sniffed. It was scented with eucalyptus and rose, heavy and smooth, much more slippery in consistency than our lubricant of preference, which we kept stored in matching phials in our bedside tables in a silly fit of sentimentality.
With one hand, I spread his cheeks apart again and stroked the pink, ridged flesh with my thumb, and then when the hole blinked again, I carefully slipped in one well-greased digit.
Snug, moist heat engulfed my finger with a welcoming squeeze. Lindir was always so tight, even the morning after we made love. I could never determine how he managed it – perhaps he was privy to one of Elrond’s healer secrets and had figured out a way to exercise that muscle, keeping it supple and strong? I made a mental note to find out.
Rotating, gently working the digit in and out, I stretched the tiny opening with one finger and used my thumb to press rhythmically against the smooth ridge between embedded digit and the fleshy wrinkled sac just below.
“Ohhh,” Lindir breathed, catching his breath a little. “That’s nice…” His hips started a slow rocking against the pillows under him. I knew he was as hard as I was already.
He groaned with disappointment when I removed my finger, but before he could protest overmuch, a smooth, cool object pressed against his slicked opening. There was a gentle circling of the wrinkled flesh, then light pressure as the dilator breached him and was seated in his passage.
“Oh yes, that’s more like it,” he sighed, closing his eyes happily and resting his face against the bed.
I clicked my tongue. “This will not do at all,” I fretted in jest. “I’ve used you too well, it seems.”
Lindir’s frame shook lightly as he struggled to stifle his laughter. “Please sir, may I have another?”
“Shush,” I shot back with a gentle pat to his bottom. “You’re being punished, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right. Sorry, sir,” he replied, struggling against a smile.
While he lay there rocking against the soft pillows under him, I eyed the succession of toys, thinking, and then finally reached for another one. I held it up, assessing its size, then laid it back down and moved along to the next. It too was greased well, then the smallest phallus was slipped out of its home and the tip of the larger was set in its place. This one was met with a bit more resistance, but a few gentle pushes had Lindir moaning softly and rocking his hips up from the pillows to meet it.
I teased his soft pouch – which was not quite as soft as it had been previously – with my salve-slick fingers. “More?”
“Yes…” Lindir replied breathily.
Again I reached for my toys and repeated the process. This time Lindir moaned when the dilator, the thickness of three of my fingers bunched together, penetrated him. His eyes closed, but the small smile on his face reassured me he was not in any distress. I hoped not, because we had a long way to go still.
“Lindir?” I asked attentively.
“Mmm.”
“More?” I pressed lightly on the flared end of the plug held in place by the strong muscle. The tip must have been resting squarely on his prostate, because he yelped and swore.
“Gods yes… more.”
“Remember, you can stop me at any time. Just say the word if you need to.”
“No…” breathlessly Lindir whimpered. “Don’t you dare stop, ‘Restor. More…”
The next dilator and the next were met with successively more resistance. I worked each plug in slowly and carefully, greasing each well and waiting until my lover’s body thrust up to greet the intrusion and welcome it before going any further.
Sleek muscles flexed and rolled under sweat-dampened skin, slick and shiny with oil and arousal. Between his legs, his sac was dusky and tight, drawn up snug against his body. Lindir’s cock pressed hard and throbbing into the pillows, pulsing with each heartbeat. He writhed and twitched against them, unable to gain friction against the soft fabric to bring himself to orgasm.
The skin surrounding the dilator was shiny and tight, no longer wrinkled but stretched smooth and pink where the object entered him. It was fascinating to see the muscle gape and yawn each time I removed one plug and replaced it with another.
I stood up walked away.
*~*~* 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.
~*~*~*~*~
“Well,” I said with a confidence I did not quite feel, “let’s get started.”
In truth, now that the time was here, I was nervous. Celeborn had assured me in his letters that his own Galadhel plaything was capable of much more than what I had ultimately agreed upon for my lover… which did nothing to lessen my apprehensions. Young Orophin was proficient at handling an astonishing amount of creativity on the Lord of the Wood’s part, but in my own case, I was hesitant to push Lindir’s limits too far or too fast.
It was now or never, or I would lose my nerve.
“Now then, shall we begin?” I asked him imperiously, taking on the efficient, clinical manner I habitually wore in Council chambers – the one that gave me the reputation of chill efficiency and cold logic.
Ha, I thought amusedly. If Elrond’s contemporaries could only witness the activities within my bedchamber, my reputation would be torn to shreds.
Reaching for the pillows I had thrown aside earlier, I held one up and swatted Lindir’s bottom lightly with the flat of my hand. “Now lift.”
“No.”
I blinked. “Did you just say ‘no’?”
“That is precisely what I said,” Lindir replied.
This was going to be easier than I thought. In truth, I had been uncertain how to broach the subject, and so it was with absolutely convincing skill, Lindir turned my own game on me and established his own rules.
Not only could my lover sing like a lark, compose breathtaking ballads, recite poetry, and play virtually any instrument by ear, but he was also an accomplished thespian. A decade or so ago, Lindir wrote and performed a dramatization of the Fall of Gondolin that had sent Glorfindel’s poor wife to their chambers, moved to tears, though his death and rebirth had occurred well before the two had even met and married. Even the exalted Lord of the Golden Flower had a suspicious shine in his eye, though he was obviously alive and well, none the worse for wear, and with a wife and three children to boot.
“Lift, I said,” and I smacked a bit harder this time. The delectable, pert bottom flushed rosy from my strike.
“And I said – no.”
Another smack sounded, and the precise brand of a handprint appeared on the other buttock. I hissed, “Lift. Your. Ass.”
Lindir flinched at the sharp sting, and finally, obediently, raised his hips and wriggled up awkwardly to allow me to tuck two thick pillows under his pelvis. One more pillow was maneuvered under his chest, so he lay flat on his stomach with his rear in the air and a bit of support under his upper body, easing the strain on his back and outstretched arms.
“You have been impertinent. I expect an apology is forthcoming?” I asked, slipping fully into the role he had cast for me.
Lindir laughed derisively. “I think not.”
Valar, how I love him.
“Then you shall be punished for your insolence,” I said haughtily, and drew the wicker basket out from under the bed.
Within Lindir’s limited range of vision, I spread a hand towel out on the bed and on it arranged a collection of objects neatly arrayed by size. In an orderly row lay an assortment of leather-wrapped dilators in graduated sizes, a jar of thick salve, and one last bundle wrapped in heavy parchment that I set a little off to the side but still within his sight.
“Ah…” was Lindir’s only response, though his eyes gleamed speculatively over the array of toys.
“Do you like what you see?” I asked, and smiled. It was a cold, calculating smile, with many white, gleaming teeth. A smile that would have sent anyone else but Lindir running for the border of Imladris as fast as their legs would carry them. I often practice that look in the mirror. It is an effective deterrent to unwanted behavior by two particular young Peredhil.
“It depends on what is in yon parcel,” Lindir said a bit hesitantly, tipping his head toward the mysterious paper-wrapped bundle the best he could. “What’s that?”
I tutted and wagged a finger under his nose. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
He eyed the bundle suspiciously, but remained silent.
Suddenly I couldn’t wait to begin. I rubbed my hands together, wondering how long it would be before Lindir begged me to stop and fuck him through those pillows and down into the floor. My cock was already twitching, nosing around eagerly under my robe, and working up the energy for another splendid erection.
Those smooth, rounded buttocks were so enticing, nicely pinked from the smacks I had given them. I spread Lindir’s buttocks with my palms, my long fingers spread around the perfect globes and baring his tiny, wrinkled opening. Leaning forward, I lapped delicately at the crease, skimming over the hole with a bare touch. Warm, moist breath bathed Lindir’s buttocks, and the pink pucker contracted and winked back at me.
Oh yes, we were ready to play. Yes, indeed.
I thumbed open the stopper on the jar and scooped a small amount of the thick salve on two fingers and sniffed. It was scented with eucalyptus and rose, heavy and smooth, much more slippery in consistency than our lubricant of preference, which we kept stored in matching phials in our bedside tables in a silly fit of sentimentality.
With one hand, I spread his cheeks apart again and stroked the pink, ridged flesh with my thumb, and then when the hole blinked again, I carefully slipped in one well-greased digit.
Snug, moist heat engulfed my finger with a welcoming squeeze. Lindir was always so tight, even the morning after we made love. I could never determine how he managed it – perhaps he was privy to one of Elrond’s healer secrets and had figured out a way to exercise that muscle, keeping it supple and strong? I made a mental note to find out.
Rotating, gently working the digit in and out, I stretched the tiny opening with one finger and used my thumb to press rhythmically against the smooth ridge between embedded digit and the fleshy wrinkled sac just below.
“Ohhh,” Lindir breathed, catching his breath a little. “That’s nice…” His hips started a slow rocking against the pillows under him. I knew he was as hard as I was already.
He groaned with disappointment when I removed my finger, but before he could protest overmuch, a smooth, cool object pressed against his slicked opening. There was a gentle circling of the wrinkled flesh, then light pressure as the dilator breached him and was seated in his passage.
“Oh yes, that’s more like it,” he sighed, closing his eyes happily and resting his face against the bed.
I clicked my tongue. “This will not do at all,” I fretted in jest. “I’ve used you too well, it seems.”
Lindir’s frame shook lightly as he struggled to stifle his laughter. “Please sir, may I have another?”
“Shush,” I shot back with a gentle pat to his bottom. “You’re being punished, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right. Sorry, sir,” he replied, struggling against a smile.
While he lay there rocking against the soft pillows under him, I eyed the succession of toys, thinking, and then finally reached for another one. I held it up, assessing its size, then laid it back down and moved along to the next. It too was greased well, then the smallest phallus was slipped out of its home and the tip of the larger was set in its place. This one was met with a bit more resistance, but a few gentle pushes had Lindir moaning softly and rocking his hips up from the pillows to meet it.
I teased his soft pouch – which was not quite as soft as it had been previously – with my salve-slick fingers. “More?”
“Yes…” Lindir replied breathily.
Again I reached for my toys and repeated the process. This time Lindir moaned when the dilator, the thickness of three of my fingers bunched together, penetrated him. His eyes closed, but the small smile on his face reassured me he was not in any distress. I hoped not, because we had a long way to go still.
“Lindir?” I asked attentively.
“Mmm.”
“More?” I pressed lightly on the flared end of the plug held in place by the strong muscle. The tip must have been resting squarely on his prostate, because he yelped and swore.
“Gods yes… more.”
“Remember, you can stop me at any time. Just say the word if you need to.”
“No…” breathlessly Lindir whimpered. “Don’t you dare stop, ‘Restor. More…”
The next dilator and the next were met with successively more resistance. I worked each plug in slowly and carefully, greasing each well and waiting until my lover’s body thrust up to greet the intrusion and welcome it before going any further.
Sleek muscles flexed and rolled under sweat-dampened skin, slick and shiny with oil and arousal. Between his legs, his sac was dusky and tight, drawn up snug against his body. Lindir’s cock pressed hard and throbbing into the pillows, pulsing with each heartbeat. He writhed and twitched against them, unable to gain friction against the soft fabric to bring himself to orgasm.
The skin surrounding the dilator was shiny and tight, no longer wrinkled but stretched smooth and pink where the object entered him. It was fascinating to see the muscle gape and yawn each time I removed one plug and replaced it with another.
I stood up walked away.
*~*~* To be continued… *~*~*
