Fantasy

Fantasy

Posted: May 4, 2007
Title: Fantasy
Author: Lady Mirfain
Type: FCS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I get nothing from this except the abject pleasure of playing with Tolkien’s elves. I promise to return them with smiles on their faces and not too mussed.
Warning: Humor and extreme silliness on the part of the author. You’ve been warned.
Author's Notes: I was bored. I was talking to Zhie. This little baby grew out of the conversation. And then Aglarien got involved. So I blame this on Zhie, Agie, the goats, the drugs, the dogs, the known free world, and anyone else I can possibly scrounge up. Read it at your own risk.

Summary: Erestor has a fantasy.

*****

A calloused hand caressed the firm buttocks beneath the covers and the elf moaned heatedly. Wantonly, he pressed into the caress, his mind still deep in reverie. When lips nuzzled the sleep elf’s neck, the darkling purred and pressed even closer, fighting the urge to wake yet thrilling to the touches.

Oil drizzled over skin bared when the covers were drawn back and the slick sensation added to the now erotic dreams coursing through the darkling elf’s mind. His groin rubbed eagerly against the silken sheets and soft gasps and moans poured from his lips.

A wicked grin split the face of the one who was causing such delicious torture and they redoubled their efforts, a warrior’s hand moving to encircle the awakening shaft. A pink tongue darted out and wrapped around the delicate ear point that just begged to be laved.

Suddenly, Erestor moaned loudly, calling out the name of the one he dreamed of and Glorfindel froze, his hands falling to the bed.

Opening one eye, Erestor looked up at his lover of many years, a pout on his lips. “Why did you stop?” he growled huskily. “You know I’ve always said you look just like Galadriel.”

“I thought you were teasing me, when you said that. You cannot be serious. I look nothing like her,” Glorfindel groused, his hand moving to rest upon the firm globes of Erestor’s ass.

“Ah but I can see you in her dresses and there you are wrong. You would be stunning, my love. All that shimmery white material flowing down your strong form, caressing the planes I love so very much.” Erestor peeked up at his lover and pouted. “Would you humor me?” he inquired, nibbling on his lip and batting his eyes at Glorfindel.

Glorfindel groaned loudly. “Please say you do not want me to dress up as a Balrog. I will do anything but that.”

Erestor pounced, rolling and pinning Glorfindel to the bed for a steamy kiss before squirming from his lover’s arms and running to the wardrobe. “Oh, my love. You will look so wonderful. I cannot believe my fantasy is finally going to come true!” With these words, Erestor began tearing through the clothing hanging inside, robes tossed aside carelessly until he cried in glee and turned, holding the garment he had been looking for.

Glorfindel groaned and shook his head. “No way, no how, not happening,” he growled, deciding facing another Balrog would be far preferable to having to wear one of Galadriel’s dresses.

Erestor stood clutching the ivory beaded dress to his front, the fabric his only covering. His emerald green eyes grew bright with unshed tears as disappointment welled up within. A pout appeared on trembling ruby lips as he worried the bottom lip and he hung his head, his shoulders drooping dejectedly.

Glorfindel cursed loudly and admitted defeat. His lover knows just what to do to get him to agree to anything. While Glorfindel knew he was being played, he would much rather have the councilor in his arms, a willing participant in their games so he gave in gracefully, albeit grudgingly. “If anyone finds out about this, you will be wearing a diaper and nothing else for a month,” he warned, then reached out and plucked the gown from Erestor’s grip.

A beaming smile appeared on Erestor’s lips and he threw himself into Glorfindel’s arms. “Thank you, my sweet. I love you so much. You will never regret this. I’ll make it worth your while.” Then, Erestor kissed Glorfindel. It was a kiss of promise. It was a kiss of heat. And it curled both their toes and left them gasping for air.

Glorfindel looked longingly at their nice big bed beneath the mallorn which had been so graciously provided them by their hosts on this diplomatic mission to settle the difference as to which cheese tasted better with which kingdom’s wines. With a deep and put out sigh, he looked down at the dress in his arms. Deciding it was better to get it over with; he began inspecting it to figure out how to put it on. It was not like he was familiar with women’s dresses. He usually ran in the other direction when something like this came his way.

Erestor took pity on his lover. Having three sisters of his own, he was well aware of the intricacies of the gowns and in no time at all, the golden warrior stood before the councilor, arrayed in the beaded gown that actually made him look quite stunning and not unlike to Galadriel herself. Well, in a masculine, kick-ass warrior kind of way. Erestor licked his lips. “You look delicious,” he purred then grabbed his own robe and a bottle of oil. “But come, I would take a stroll in the garden with the lady.” Then Erestor grabbed his lover’s hand and dragged him from the room and down the many flights of stairs to Galadriel’s garden.

Ducking his head to keep from being recognized, Glorfindel was forced to run to keep up with his eager love. He sighed in relief when they entered the quietude of the garden, only to gasp and duck behind a bush when Celeborn rounded a corner. He barely refrained from snorting when he heard the Lord of Lorien ask Erestor if he had just seen his wife duck into the shrubbery and the councilor sweetly denied it.

Erestor was shaking with silent laughter when he finally rescued Glorfindel from the shrubbery once he had gotten rid of Celeborn. “That was close, lover. Come, I have an idea.” With eyes twinkling wickedly, Erestor grabbed Glorfindel’s hand and pulled him along the paths. If Glorfindel did not know better, he would think that the councilor had planned everything out long in advance.

“Sweetie pea, where are you taking me?” Glorfindel asked finally, his curiosity getting the better of him. But before he got an answer, they stopped, Erestor flying into his arms and kissing him forcefully. The momentum of the dark-haired elf flinging himself upon the warrior was enough to cause him to stumble and when he landed, he realized where they were and why his lover had asked him to wear the gown. “Oh, my love, you are wicked indeed. You can not be thinking what I am thinking you are thinking. Please tell me that you are thinking anything but thinking this.” Glorfindel snickered to see the pained expression upon Erestor’s face which was why he had phrased himself just the way he had. Sometimes it was good to get the goat of the councilor in any way he could.

Erestor growled and pushed Glorfindel back further. Soon his beloved warrior was seated upon a pedestal, one that he had been fantasizing about for a very long time. “I want you,” he growled, already working the gown up the muscle hardened legs, glad that there was no impediment to his progress. “Maybe I should flip you onto your stomach though. It might be more comfortable for you.”

Glorfindel protested vociferously to this idea. The thought of the hard edge of the pedestal digging into his… well more sensitive regions enough to make his shudder. “Nope, I will stay like I am. But please, my lord, do not let it hinder you. I am yours this night, ripe for the plucking.” He grinned lecherously at his beloved, eagerly awaiting ravishment.

Erestor worked the gown up until Glorfindel’s groin was exposed. He gripped the muscled hips and helped his lover to slide forward. Then Erestor flung Glorfindel’s knees over his shoulders and uncorking the oil, coated his length then pressed home.

Glorfindel howled like a warg as he was breached and he panted and gasped for air as the throbbing length impaled him. He was floating in a limbo of pleasure pain. The invasion burned at the same time it sent tendrils of bliss through him. His precarious perch was hard and the edge dug into his hip. The thought of getting caught had him balancing on the edge of madness. But the first thrust of Erestor’s hips had him seeing stars and all the rest paled into nothingness.

Erestor went insane as he buried himself into the tight heat of Glorfindel’s backside and soon the only sounds in the garden were the grunts and groans of the lovers, the sounds of flesh meeting flesh, and an ominous creaking sound of stone beginning to yield. When ecstasy finally over took the pair, they both screamed at the top of their lungs. They screamed in bliss. They screamed in joy. They screamed in terror as Galadriel stepped out of a copse of willow trees, glaring at them and demanding to know why they were having sex on her mirror. But the worst was yet to come. For just then, with a final shudder, the mirror went tumbling down.

The tales are uncertain. No one can remember the details. But it is said that Erestor beat Glorfindel back to Imladris, only because his lover was still hampered by the gown he wore.

*****

THE END

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