Hi! drabble incoming, be afraid...
Dec. 21st, 2003 12:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
meretriculagreetings! This is my first entry (it's all your fault, cette_vie) so I figured I should start using this thingie for what's it's good for... slashing! all my ickle pals at eheu may read and then go away into a corner and sob at having created such a monster.
This started off as a discussion between me and my beta, Sylvie, about how in LotR slash, Erestor is ALWAYS the sub. And he's always the queeniest queen to wear glitter and high heels. so, we figured he deserved some show time as a lecherous dom. I haven't got a name for it yet... the suggestion box is open!
"Excuse me for a moment, Erestor?" Lord Elrond got to his feet and paced across his study to retrieve a glass of miruvor. His advisor watched his robes stretch over his deliciously rounded posterior with an unabashedly lecherous gaze.
/I wonder if I can think of another way to "accidentally" grope him today,/ Erestor mused to himself. Elrond, of course, was blissfully oblivious, but he was also marvelously easily flustered. Erestor loved nothing so much as making him blush; he was so very pretty with the pink flush of embarrassment decorating his cheeks.
/No,/ he decided reluctantly, /he might grow suspicious. I wouldn’t want to tip my hand so early in the game." Sighing to himself, he rose and joined Elrond by the liquor cabinet. "Would you pour me a glass, please?"
Elrond smiled his trademark naive smile... which frayed around the edges as Erestor placed a hand over his to steady the glass. "Ah, thank you, Erestor," he said, graciously covering his nervousness.
"The pleasure was mine," Erestor murmured in reply, with a predatory flash of gleaming white teeth.
/Curse it, after twelve centuries you would think I would be used to Erestor,/ Elrond thought edgily, shifting away slightly. It was nothing the elder elf had said or done, but he made Elrond miserably uncomfortable: his caressing tone while speaking, his habit of standing just barely too close, the hungry-seeming glint in his eyes...
Well, Elrond could hardly accuse him of anything, for everything Erestor did seemed to have only the most innocent of motives. It was probably only coincidence that he also frightened his supposed "lord" out of his wits.
"You seem tired," Erestor purred softly, seductively. Elrond tensed. "Why do you not go on to bed. I can straighten out the remaining issues myself, and there is nothing vital at the moment, anyway."
"Oh, ah, thank you, and, um, good night, Erestor." True to form, Elrond flushed and hurried out of the room. /He was only being considerate!/ he reprimanded himself. /Why do you think that every word out of his mouth is a proposition?!/
Erestor shook his head in amusement as Elrond bolted, still blushing furiously. /I really am desirous to discover whether your other cheeks blush as well. Perhaps after a good spanking.../
Lost in his prurient fantasies, he almost missed the scrap of parchment buried among the seating plans and lists of committees on his desk, until the reek of roses, distilled until it was stronger than warg-stench, reached his tender nostrils. He paled, and immediately seized the pale pink note, decorated with elegant purple calligraphy. "Oh, no," he moaned, desperately shutting his eyes in the hopes that the missive would disappear before he opened them again. It did not. "Not again."
*
/Never again,/ Erestor vowed to himself as he shut his door firmly behind himself and slid the bolt home. /Never again, never again, never again. I will burn all of the pink stationery in Imladris before I suffer through reading that... that... I have no words./
He shook his head and slithered out of his clothing with an audible sigh of relief. /Deal with it in the morning. It is past midnight and I have earned my rest. It can wait until morning./
He smiled as he slipped into bed, his eyes dreamily sliding closed as he pictured Elrond spread out across the covers, his hair lying like dark silk upon the pillows, his cherry-red lips parted and his cheeks flushed with arousal. His hand crept beneath the sheets to lazily stroke himself as he imagined Elrond with those luscious lips wrapped around a strawberry, sucking on the sweet scarlet fruit.
His breathing quickened and his hand sped up. Elrond, his eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure, his mouth swollen from kissing as he cried his release....
"Thy lips are red as rubies,
Of rich and rosy—"
"STOP YOUR CATERWAULING!" Erestor shrieked, and clapped his hands over his ears, all else forgotten. "I have HAD it, do you understand? HAD IT! If you do not stop singing and GO AWAY there will be A VERY UNFORTUNATE ACCIDENT!"
"Oh, loveliest and wisest and—"
"SHUT UP!" Erestor wailed. "I am trying to SLEEP! You are the WORST singer I have ever heard—I would prefer a troupe of Dwarves belching in chorus! And if I ever get my hands on the third-rate minstrel who WROTE that piece of driven I will WRING HIS NECK!"
"You don’t like my tribute to your lips?" Glorfindel asked, looking injured. "Well—no matter. I wrote an ode to your eyebrows as well."
"NO!" Erestor shouted. "I will kill myself first! And THEN I will kill you!"
Servants began running outside, curious about the racket in the courtyard, and were astonished to see the perpetually dignified and well-groomed Erestor shrieking like a fishwife intent on murder, leaning out his balcony in nothing but a sheet, his hair disheveled and his face bright red with fury. They were somewhat less surprised to note that the blond advisor from Gondolin standing directly below him, attempting to serenade the irate counselor between death threats.
Eventually Elrond shuffled outside, still half-asleep, to see what was the matter. Erestor fell silent as soon as his caught sight of the sleep-tousled lord of Imladris, leaving Glorfindel’s impassioned protestations of adoration to hand unchallenged in the air.
Elrond took in the scene before him in ominous quiet as all eyes turned to him. "If you have had a lovers’ spat or some such quarrel," he said, in carefully modulated tones, "please continue it in the privacy of your own rooms, at such a volume that you so not disturb the slumbers of the remainder of the household."
Glorfindel pouted. "But Lord Elrond—"
"You will be silent and you will go back to your rooms NOW. You are a disgrace. Both of you."
"Yes, Lord Elrond," Erestor murmured, and vanished back into his room. Glorfindel began to protest again.
"Not. Another. Word." Elrond stalked silently back into the house.
cette_vie) so I figured I should start using this thingie for what's it's good for... slashing! all my ickle pals at eheu may read and then go away into a corner and sob at having created such a monster. This started off as a discussion between me and my beta, Sylvie, about how in LotR slash, Erestor is ALWAYS the sub. And he's always the queeniest queen to wear glitter and high heels. so, we figured he deserved some show time as a lecherous dom. I haven't got a name for it yet... the suggestion box is open!
"Excuse me for a moment, Erestor?" Lord Elrond got to his feet and paced across his study to retrieve a glass of miruvor. His advisor watched his robes stretch over his deliciously rounded posterior with an unabashedly lecherous gaze.
/I wonder if I can think of another way to "accidentally" grope him today,/ Erestor mused to himself. Elrond, of course, was blissfully oblivious, but he was also marvelously easily flustered. Erestor loved nothing so much as making him blush; he was so very pretty with the pink flush of embarrassment decorating his cheeks.
/No,/ he decided reluctantly, /he might grow suspicious. I wouldn’t want to tip my hand so early in the game." Sighing to himself, he rose and joined Elrond by the liquor cabinet. "Would you pour me a glass, please?"
Elrond smiled his trademark naive smile... which frayed around the edges as Erestor placed a hand over his to steady the glass. "Ah, thank you, Erestor," he said, graciously covering his nervousness.
"The pleasure was mine," Erestor murmured in reply, with a predatory flash of gleaming white teeth.
/Curse it, after twelve centuries you would think I would be used to Erestor,/ Elrond thought edgily, shifting away slightly. It was nothing the elder elf had said or done, but he made Elrond miserably uncomfortable: his caressing tone while speaking, his habit of standing just barely too close, the hungry-seeming glint in his eyes...
Well, Elrond could hardly accuse him of anything, for everything Erestor did seemed to have only the most innocent of motives. It was probably only coincidence that he also frightened his supposed "lord" out of his wits.
"You seem tired," Erestor purred softly, seductively. Elrond tensed. "Why do you not go on to bed. I can straighten out the remaining issues myself, and there is nothing vital at the moment, anyway."
"Oh, ah, thank you, and, um, good night, Erestor." True to form, Elrond flushed and hurried out of the room. /He was only being considerate!/ he reprimanded himself. /Why do you think that every word out of his mouth is a proposition?!/
Erestor shook his head in amusement as Elrond bolted, still blushing furiously. /I really am desirous to discover whether your other cheeks blush as well. Perhaps after a good spanking.../
Lost in his prurient fantasies, he almost missed the scrap of parchment buried among the seating plans and lists of committees on his desk, until the reek of roses, distilled until it was stronger than warg-stench, reached his tender nostrils. He paled, and immediately seized the pale pink note, decorated with elegant purple calligraphy. "Oh, no," he moaned, desperately shutting his eyes in the hopes that the missive would disappear before he opened them again. It did not. "Not again."
*
/Never again,/ Erestor vowed to himself as he shut his door firmly behind himself and slid the bolt home. /Never again, never again, never again. I will burn all of the pink stationery in Imladris before I suffer through reading that... that... I have no words./
He shook his head and slithered out of his clothing with an audible sigh of relief. /Deal with it in the morning. It is past midnight and I have earned my rest. It can wait until morning./
He smiled as he slipped into bed, his eyes dreamily sliding closed as he pictured Elrond spread out across the covers, his hair lying like dark silk upon the pillows, his cherry-red lips parted and his cheeks flushed with arousal. His hand crept beneath the sheets to lazily stroke himself as he imagined Elrond with those luscious lips wrapped around a strawberry, sucking on the sweet scarlet fruit.
His breathing quickened and his hand sped up. Elrond, his eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure, his mouth swollen from kissing as he cried his release....
"Thy lips are red as rubies,
Of rich and rosy—"
"STOP YOUR CATERWAULING!" Erestor shrieked, and clapped his hands over his ears, all else forgotten. "I have HAD it, do you understand? HAD IT! If you do not stop singing and GO AWAY there will be A VERY UNFORTUNATE ACCIDENT!"
"Oh, loveliest and wisest and—"
"SHUT UP!" Erestor wailed. "I am trying to SLEEP! You are the WORST singer I have ever heard—I would prefer a troupe of Dwarves belching in chorus! And if I ever get my hands on the third-rate minstrel who WROTE that piece of driven I will WRING HIS NECK!"
"You don’t like my tribute to your lips?" Glorfindel asked, looking injured. "Well—no matter. I wrote an ode to your eyebrows as well."
"NO!" Erestor shouted. "I will kill myself first! And THEN I will kill you!"
Servants began running outside, curious about the racket in the courtyard, and were astonished to see the perpetually dignified and well-groomed Erestor shrieking like a fishwife intent on murder, leaning out his balcony in nothing but a sheet, his hair disheveled and his face bright red with fury. They were somewhat less surprised to note that the blond advisor from Gondolin standing directly below him, attempting to serenade the irate counselor between death threats.
Eventually Elrond shuffled outside, still half-asleep, to see what was the matter. Erestor fell silent as soon as his caught sight of the sleep-tousled lord of Imladris, leaving Glorfindel’s impassioned protestations of adoration to hand unchallenged in the air.
Elrond took in the scene before him in ominous quiet as all eyes turned to him. "If you have had a lovers’ spat or some such quarrel," he said, in carefully modulated tones, "please continue it in the privacy of your own rooms, at such a volume that you so not disturb the slumbers of the remainder of the household."
Glorfindel pouted. "But Lord Elrond—"
"You will be silent and you will go back to your rooms NOW. You are a disgrace. Both of you."
"Yes, Lord Elrond," Erestor murmured, and vanished back into his room. Glorfindel began to protest again.
"Not. Another. Word." Elrond stalked silently back into the house.
*snerk*
Date: 2003-12-22 11:35 am (UTC)I'm almost scared of Erestor. He's *that* dom! Because of his frightening teeth, I think the title "Predator" or "Night Of The Sexually Frantic Counsellor" would be apt...;P And Fin's very, very sweet... and such a talented poet *cough*
And you even did a wank scene! *much snuggles and warning*
I think certain Erestor groupies will have a seizure over this.
Sylvie xxx