Cream And Steel

Cream And Steel

Posted: March 2, 2007
Title: Cream and Steel
Author: Fimbrethiel
Type: FCS
Characters: Elladan/Elrohir
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Don’t own the Elves, they are owned by Tolkien’s estate. Master Tolkien, I mean no harm. No profit has been made.
Prompt: 030 (50passages) – “This in brief is how I see things at the moment, if you wish to have a piece of my mind as plain as possible.”
Warnings: implied twincest, a little bit of kink
Beta: not this time
Author's Notes: Written for the LiveJournal 50passages challenge, in payment for a bribe from Minuial Nuwing. Her fault entirely. *grin*

Summary: The sacrifices Elrohir makes for his brother aren’t always always such a trial.

*****

Warily, Elrohir eyed the finely honed edge of the glittering knife blade as it carefully scraped at his tender flesh, whisking away the few coarse dark hairs that trailed from below his navel and down to the top of his groin. The faint ‘scritch’ of sharpened steel on skin was the only sound in the room, apart from his own harsh breathing.

“Watch that blade, tôren,” he warned, flinching as the cutting edge strayed precariously close to parts he would prefer to keep intact.

“Do you dispute the steadiness of my hand?” Elladan questioned archly, raising a dark brow, but otherwise keeping his gaze steadily fixed on his task.

The Elf-knight’s gaze strayed momentarily from the keen edge of the knife as it hovered between his own thighs, and lit briefly upon the straining hardness that lay betwixt his brother’s.

“Nay, not your dexterity, but only your concentration.”

Pausing in his task, the elder twin straightened and knelt on his haunches, eyeing Elrohir with long-suffering exasperation.

“This in brief is how I see things at the moment, if you wish to have a piece of my mind as plain as possible. You have two choices; continue to distract me, and risk parting with a piece of your anatomy that I am rather fond of, or close your mouth and let me finish.”

The Elf-knight glanced once more at the newly shorn flesh at the juncture of his thighs, the dark wisps that remained, tokens of his ancestry, standing in stark relief against smooth ivory.

“I still cannot believe I let you talk me into this. Go ahead and get it done,” he replied with a small shake of his head, and lay back against the pillows once again.

He gasped as a daub of a cool, thick substance was smoothed by strong fingers into the crease of his thigh and over the swell of his pubis, skillfully avoiding all but the most teasing caress around the aching heat that throbbed between his legs.

As the blade descended again to complete its task, the Elf-knight risked a single question.

“But why whipped cream, of all things?”

Elladan returned the inquiry with a predatory smirk and a lascivious lick of his lips.

“Because, tôren, the cleanup will be so very… delicious.”

*****

Elvish translations and notes:

tôren = my brother

*****

THE END

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