Hi folks, this little romp will be serialized, with each part being released
on successive days.  Enjoy!  *snicker*


Title:  The Artistry of Pleasure (1/5)
Author:  Fimbrethiel
Website:  Iavas-e-Guren http://www.hithanaur.net/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
Disclaimer:  Don’t own the Elves, they are owned by Tolkien’s estate.
Master Tolkien, I mean no harm.  No profit has been made.
Beta:  Orchyd Constyne.  Any remaining errors are solely the
responsibility of the author.
Feedback:  Yes, please!
Archive:  Of Elves and Men, Melethryn, aff.net, Library of Moria, Cipher

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 occasionally raucous laughter of the twins and the
playful banter of Glorfindel.  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 signified the question – “Will you?”  Tonight I issued
the invitation, but Lindir equally initiated our games.

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.”

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 inadvertently 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, and I
was nervous despite the extensive planning.

Just before the hour was up, I hurriedly spread a thick blanket over my
usual 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…

Title:  The Artistry of Pleasure (2/5)
Author:  Fimbrethiel
Website:  Iavas-e-Guren http://www.hithanaur.net/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
Disclaimer:  Don’t own the Elves, they are owned by Tolkien’s estate.
Master Tolkien, I mean no harm.  No profit has been made.
Beta:  Orchyd Constyne.  Any remaining errors are solely the
responsibility of the author.
Feedback:  Yes, please!
Archive:  Of Elves and Men, Melethryn, aff.net, Library of Moria, Cipher

Summary:  Erestor prepares a surprise for his lover.  Erestor’s POV.

~*~*~*~*~

In precisely one hour, the knock I had been expecting came.  Lindir was
always prompt – no ‘fashionably late’ for my lover, a fact I often teased
him about.  I opened the door and greeted him with a smile and kiss on the
cheek, then pulled him inside and slid the bolt securely home.

For the trek from his rooms to mine, Lindir wore a bed robe belted loosely
about his slim waist, paired with loose sleep pants.  His feet were bare,
and his silken black locks were unbound and flowing about his shoulders,
scented faintly with a rinse of chamomile and peppermint.

Though we had been lovers for decades, separate quarters were simply a
matter of practicality for us.  Often Lindir lost track of time while
practicing or composing and did not fall into bed, exhausted, until the wee
hours of the morning, while I arose early and was often working at dawn’s
first light.

“I hope I’m not late, my sweet,” Lindir apologized, taking my hands in his
and kissing the fingertips gently.  “Galadriel and Celeborn will be arriving
in less than a week, and the songs are nowhere close for presentation.  I
lost track of time and had to hurry.”

“Not at all, you are surprisingly punctual for a change,” I teased gently as 
I
took him into my arms and gave him a more proper welcoming kiss.  His
lips were warm and slightly moist, his mouth eagerly parting to accept
mine.  I couldn’t resist giving his tongue a tiny flick with mine when we
pulled away.

Stepping back, I held him at arms’ length and really took a good look at
my lover.  Lindir’s eyes were drawn and sported dark circles under them
– it was clear he was exhausted.  He held himself stiffly, confirming
without a doubt that he was tense and sore from many hours hunched over
his compositions and harp.

Mentally I berated myself for choosing tonight of all nights, while Lindir
was preoccupied with the upcoming performance for the rulers of
Lothlórien.  It was unlike me to be so forgetful, and I could only attribute
my absentmindedness to the case of nerves I seemed to have developed
when planning my surprise.

“We don’t need to do this tonight, Lindir.  Forgive me, I didn’t think of
your recital.”

Lindir smiled ruefully back.  “I’m fine, Erestor.  I made the choice to
respond, after all,” he said, referring to the stone he had returned to me 
via
messenger.  “In truth, we needed a respite from the constant practice, so I
gave everyone a much-needed evening off.”

Smiling with relief, I grasped Lindir’s slim hand in my own and tugged
him encouragingly toward the bed.  “Come, let me ease your fatigue.  Lie
down and I’ll give you a massage.  Would you like that?”

“That would be blissful,” Lindir murmured, following behind me, looking
around the room curiously.  My chambers didn’t appear to be appreciably
different from the way it usually did, with the exception of the blanket
spread out over the usual bed coverings.  “So, what have you come up
with for tonight?”

“Something special, but that can wait,” I replied secretively, untying the
sash of Lindir’s dressing gown.  I kissed the tiny hollow above his delicate
collarbone while slipping the robe from Lindir’s shoulders.  “You are so
tense!  Lie down, seron vell.”  (beloved)

He allowed me to remove the rest of his garments – the robe draped over a
chair, sleeping pants untied and dropped over narrow hips to the floor –
and he stretched out face down on the bed with an exaggerated sigh of
appreciation while I knelt over his thighs.

“Let me tie your hair back first,” I said gently, and quickly braided the
thick mass into a silken rope.  There was a bottle of light, sweetly scented
oil in a bedside drawer, so I leaned over and removed it, then popped the
cork and poured a palm full of the liquid to warm between my palms.
With long, slow, firm strokes, I worked the oil into the skin, massaging up
and down Lindir’s slender back.  Every so often, he would hiss and flinch
from a particularly sore spot, so I would knead and work the knotted
muscles until they were warm and flexible.  From the small of the
minstrel’s back, up to his neck, I worked steadily, easing the tension from
my lover’s body, digging in more firmly here, using gentle, soothing
touches there.

Before Lindir had even arrived in my chambers, I had been aroused from
the mere anticipation of what was to come, going about chambers half
hard already and resisting the temptation to bring myself to a swift and
gratifying release.  Those soft sighs and mewls of pleasure he emitted
periodically were so reminiscent of the whimpers and purrs that would
escape the rosebud mouth when in the throes of passion that, despite my
intentions to let things proceed slowly, had my cock standing fully at
attention.  Sitting aside Lindir’s thighs working up and down his slender
back and across his tense shoulders worked my erection into the snug,
warm cleft of his backside.

To hell with patience.  Although we are of the Firstborn, and therefore –
for all intents and purposes – immortal, fortitude cannot compete with a
raging hard-on.

Utterly relaxed and in the first stages of a light doze, Lindir didn’t 
notice
the silken strips of fabric I slipped out from under the pillows and knotted
around his wrists until they were pulled tight and tied off to the corner
posts of the headboard.

“Wha….” he stuttered, coming to full awareness with a start.

I chuckled.  “You were getting a bit complacent, melethronen.  I wanted
you relaxed, not asleep.”  (my lover)

“What are you doing, Erestor?” the minstrel demanded, pulling on the
restraints experimentally.

The bindings were more for show than anything.  If he had really wanted
to, he probably could have broken free of those pathetic straps I had used
to secure him with.  While Lindir’s appearance is that of an ethereal,
slender waif, years of hauling heavy instrument cases and trunks full of
sheet music have left him with wiry muscle and a strength that outstrips
mine concealed under his flowing robes.

My robe tangled under my legs, clinging to Lindir’s oiled flesh, and I
tugged it from underneath him impatiently.  “At the moment, I am
admiring the fetching picture you make, bound and glistening with oil,” I
replied.  I stretched lazily and arched my back, letting my eyes to roam
freely over the bound form I straddled.  Lindir’s pale skin fairly glowed in
the candlelight, the flesh pink and flushed from his massage.  Loose wisps
of hair clung to the near-translucent flesh of the long, slender neck, where
a tiny pulse fluttered gently just under the skin.

There was no way, I knew, that I would manage to carry my plan further
without some sort of relief.  The thought of abandoning the game for this
evening and just fucking him right then and there was tempting, but
somehow I restrained the impulse and forced myself to remember the
months that had gone into the planning.  No, I reasoned, better a quick
release now, then be able to later torment Lindir at my leisure.

I untied my robe and left it hanging on my shoulders, but parted it, baring
my chest.  I wiggled forward, my stiff cock pressed against Lindir’s
buttocks.  A few drops of pre-come seeped out, so I rubbed the tip up and
down over the cleft of the my lover’s ass, knowing it would shake off the
rest of his drowsy haze and drive him into a lustful frenzy.

“Mmm, I can smell the heat of your body already,” I murmured, reaching
for the oil, and drizzled a thin stream over my erection and into the palm
of my hand.  I stroked my shaft with long, slow, greasy strokes, while
Lindir squirmed around underneath me.

The low state of arousal I had maintained all afternoon quickly flared into
a full-blown, raging assault.  My breath quickened, and I panted, “I hadn’t
planned on indulging myself in this manner, but I find I can’t resist the
temptation.”

I continued stroking, my motions on my cock becoming faster, making
sure the minstrel could hear my rasping breaths as I grew more aroused.  I
licked a hot, wet trail up from the top of Lindir’s buttocks halfway up his
spine, as far as I could reach, and blew a warm breath across the
dampness.  Lindir shivered.  Every trace of his earlier fatigue was gone
now; it was obvious from the way his slender hips tried to rub against the
blanket and the pale flush that rose on his cheeks.

“Mmm, that feels good,” I moaned, thrusting into my slick fist.  “I’ve been
hard for hours, thinking about tonight.”  My cock wept clear drops, and on
each outward stroke, I smoothed them over the tip, mingling my fluids
with the oil.  My hand made a wet, slapping sound and I started to pump
faster.

“Oh, yessss,” I groaned, “it feels positively amazing.  I’m going to come,
Lindir… all over you.  My seed will spray all over your back, and you will
only be able to lie there.  Are you hard too?  I know you are; I can tell by
the way you squirm.  You want to come too, don’t you?”

Bound by the wrists and held captive by my weight, Lindir squirmed
against the bed, trying to create friction to bring him to orgasm.  It must
have been infuriating for him, yet arousing, to be deprived of fully half 
his
senses in this manner.  He could smell the musk of my arousal as I could
smell his, could hear the wet slapping of my hand against my own flesh.
Deprived of vision, he could not see the rosy blush that stained the pale
skin of my chest as I neared climax, the manner my head tossed back,
lower lip caught between even, white teeth, the way my eyes clenched in a
grimace of bliss so intense it bordered on pain the moment orgasm swept
over me.

My body grew increasingly tenser, the wet slapping more rapid, until I
bowed tightly and with a low moan brought myself to orgasm.  Thick,
warm droplets of cream spurted over Lindir’s back.  Gradually my
shudders slowed, and I slumped over, breathing heavily.

A single pearly droplet landed high on his shoulder, near the crease of his
neck.  Craning sharply, he strained to capture that bit of my essence with
his tongue and groaned softly, rolling the bitter droplet around tongue.

“You could not save that for me?” he chastised, looking up at me from the
corner of his eye.

I smiled faintly down at him as my pulse slowed, and wiped the mess from
his back with the corner of the blanket.  “It wasn’t a waste from this
perspective.  It was a rather artistic display, if I dare say so myself.”

“Get off me, you oaf, and untie me.  That was child’s play – I will show
you *true* artistry,” Lindir growled over his shoulder, baring strong,
white teeth in a mock look of ferocity.

“Rather cheeky words, for one in your position,” I admonished, tweaking
his rear.

I could see him rolling his eyes.  “So this is all you had planned?  I would
have stayed in the rehearsal room and continued to practice.”  He knew
perfectly well I was nowhere near finished with him yet, but sensing my
lover’s mood, I played along with the ruse.

“Not even close, dear heart.  We’ve barely begun.”

I stood up and stretched again, then knelt down next to my bed so our eyes
were level.  “All joking aside, Lindir, this is part of the game,” I said
solemnly.  “Do you remember what to say if you want me to stop?”

A few decades ago when we had first started these bedroom games, we
established a word that we could use at any time if either of us sensed our
play was escalating out of control.  The word – fang – was not to be used
lightly, but we were each confident in our love and the trust we had in one
another to be certain that if either of us were to say that word, all play
would cease immediately, without repercussions.  Only a few times before
had either of us ever had to resort to the ‘safe word’ – usually me, to my
lasting displeasure.  (beard)

Lindir met my eyes evenly, and the cheeky bastard even had the audacity
to glare at me.  “Have I ever told you to stop?” he retorted, answering the
question with one of his own.

“Rarely, it’s true,” I conceded, “but you haven’t yet seen what I had
commissioned from the Golden Wood.”  I fervently hoped Lindir couldn’t
hear the relief in my voice that he was not going to halt our play after so
much preparation.

“Good gods, Erestor, that sounds ominous,” Lindir said.  He trusted me
implicitly, but being bound – while exciting and arousing – while I
schemed must have been a bit disconcerting.  I *knew* it was, because he
had tied me up before, and I knew full well the apprehensions that came of
not knowing what to expect next.

I chuckled.  “Ominous?  I would not say so, but I believe it would be
prudent for you to cancel any strenuous physical activity tomorrow.”

To be continued…
Title:  The Artistry of Pleasure (3/5)
Author:  Fimbrethiel
Website:  Iavas-e-Guren http://www.hithanaur.net/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
Disclaimer:  Don’t own the Elves, they are owned by Tolkien’s estate.
Master Tolkien, I mean no harm.  No profit has been made.
Beta:  Orchyd Constyne.  Any remaining errors are solely the
responsibility of the author.
Feedback:  Yes, please!
Archive:  Of Elves and Men, Melethryn, aff.net, Library of Moria, Cipher

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 see what
transpired 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 defiantly.

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 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 the night
before.  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 the laughter that
threatened to bubble over.  “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…
Title:  The Artistry of Pleasure (4/5)
Author:  Fimbrethiel
Website:  Iavas-e-Guren http://www.hithanaur.net/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
Disclaimer:  Don’t own the Elves, they are owned by Tolkien’s estate.
Master Tolkien, I mean no harm.  No profit has been made.
Beta:  Orchyd Constyne.  Any remaining errors are solely the
responsibility of the author.
Feedback:  Yes, please!
Archive:  Of Elves and Men, Melethryn, aff.net, Library of Moria, Cipher

Summary:  Erestor prepares a surprise for his lover.  Erestor’s POV.

~*~*~*~*~

Lindir mewled piteously when I got up and simply walked away, leaving
him there bound and aroused, with a plug in his ass.

He was dumbfounded at first and called after me.  “Erestor?  Where are
you going, love?”  He figured I was simply getting up to find something,
or simply changing my position.

But when he saw me walk into the bathing chamber and close the door
behind me, he started yelling.  And the longer I was gone, the more his
usually dulcet tones escalated in frantic anger.  Oh, he was furious.

“Erestor, get back out here right now and untie me!  You miserable
bastard… you ill-begotten spawn of Morgoth!  How dare you leave me
like this?  What the fuck are you doing in there?  Get out here now, you
son of a bitch, and finish what you started!”

On and on he raged, casting doubt as to my parentage and the virtue of my
mother.  His furious tirade made me laugh in spite my current discomfort.
Under other circumstances, Lindir adored my parents.  My mother doted
on him and baked him sweets, gave him extravagant begetting-day gifts,
and my dear father was fond of telling me – in Lindir’s presence, and with
only a hint of a teasing smile on his face – that I was lucky to have found
someone like Lindir who could tolerate a grouch like me.

Though my poor mother would have been stricken blind if she happened
to see the position her darling Lindir was in at the moment, and she would
positively keel over dead if she had seen the position *I* - the apple of 
her
eye – was in.

I stood with one leg supported by the rim of the bathtub, my eyes clenched
tightly shut in concentration while I slowly and with great care worked a
well-oiled phallus into my own backside.  My cock curved up against my
belly, bobbing gently in the warm, moist air with each tiny press of the
object into my body.

I was preparing myself for what I knew would be a wild and rigorous
fucking.

Lindir was quickly reaching the point where all rational thought would
flee.  Once freed of his bonds, primitive, instinctive need would take over
his over-sensitized body and he would abandon all caution, leaving no
time for his usual loving and gentle preparation.

I snorted and then winced when the movement caused me to press a bit too
hard, shooting a bolt of pain through my backside.

Loving, always.  But gentle?  Hardly.  More than once I had attended our
Lord’s counsel with my body bearing the battle-scars of a night of Lindir’s
attentions.  Few would believe the wildcat my usually placid lover became
when in the heat of passion and the filth that could spew from his rosebud
lips when he was of a mind.  He could curse like a Corsair of Men when
he chose.  And at the moment, beyond the solid wood door of the
bathroom, his cursing was quickly reaching epic proportions.

For decades Lindir and I had danced around one another within the
borders of Imladris, giving each other coy looks and lingering touches of
the hand during mealtimes and gatherings, but never going any further.
The interest was there, I could see, by the way his gaze followed me from
time to time, but I thought he was simply shy, and therefore didn’t pursue
him.  I figured if he were truly interested, eventually he would approach
me.

But one night, after an evening of rich food, beautiful music, and copious
drink in the Hall of Fire, I somehow found myself concealed in a
shadowed niche with Lindir’s tongue halfway down my throat and his
hand in my trousers.

No, Lindir was not shy by any stretch of the imagination, I soon learned.
We spent the first night of many together, and the next day in Chambers, if
Elrond seated on my left side noticed that I fidgeted uncomfortably in my
seat and discreetly filched a pillow from one of the side chairs to sit 
upon,
he didn’t remark on it.  I sent a thousand prayers to the Valar to shine
Their light upon his House and all of his line for recognizing when
discretion was called for.

Glorfindel was not quite so discreet, though.  He knew.  Somehow he
always knows – I sometimes think Námo must have granted that Elf an
additional measure of foresight when he was kicked out of the Hall of
Waiting.  He is my dearest friend, but I could have cheerfully skinned him
alive with his own sword for all the smirking and lewd winks he gave me.
He knew, all right.

‘Perhaps I overestimated a bit in my selection,’ I thought.  My breathing
was ragged, though I struggled to breathe deeply and regularly while
working the solid bulk of the plug into my passage.

I would be glad, I knew, that I had been so aggressive in my choice, even
though my body struggled to accept something larger than what it was
accustomed to.  Lindir is not especially thick, but he is long – his cock,
like his body, is built for endurance, not strength.  I too play a variety 
of
instruments, though not nearly as well as my beloved, and I know how
physically taxing it is to remain in a single position for hours, playing.
That he is able to sustain for days upon end is a testament to his will and
stamina.

With a final gasp of relief as the object finally was seated, my head fell
back and I stood with my thighs spread, waiting and breathing until the
burning subsided into dull throbbing and marvelous fullness.

The walk from the bath, through the bedroom, and back to the bed was
incalculable anguish.  Each step pressed the phallus against my prostate,
so I walked slowly and carefully, in tiny faltering steps so I would not
spend myself on the floor.  For a fleeting instant I was tempted to stop
where I was and take myself in hand, but reconsidered.  That would have
ruined the mood entirely.

But perhaps not… Lindir had always found the sight of me masturbating
to be highly erotic.

Lindir, bound and writhing, stopped in mid-curse and drew a sharp breath
when I made my reappearance.  I can only imagine the sight I presented to
him, with my hair wild and unkempt, tendrils escaping from my braid and
curling about my face.  The blue silk robe was smeared about the hem
with dark smudges of oil and spotted with droplets of my seed.  My cock
jutted out red and hard from the front of my robe, so stiff it pointed 
almost
straight up and drooling pre-come in a little trail of clear juices down the
shaft.

“Where the fuck did you go, Erestor?  Don’t you *ever* leave me like that
again.  What were you doing in there?”

Haltingly I crawled up on the bed next to Lindir where he could see me,
moaning a little each time the blunt tip of the dilator brushed my prostate.
“Just taking care of some pressing business, love.  Don’t worry, nothing
for you to be concerned about,” I lied.  He had no idea what I had been up
to… yet.

Lindir whined and begged, his slim hips rolled and undulated against the
pillow.  “Erestor, please…” his usual melodious voice was hoarse and
rough, almost unrecognizable as being the same voice that could sing so
sweetly.

“Are you begging, lover?  Please what?  I want to hear you beg.”  I was
surprised to hear the gravelly quality of my own voice, usually deep and
smooth but now hoarse and raspy.

“For the sake of all you hold revered… you want to hear me beg?  Fine –
I’m begging, Erestor.  I can’t take much more – I need to come.  I’m dying
– please, *please*, end this.”

Since he begged so nicely, I thought it time to unveil the surprise.  I
reached across his body and reached for the paper-wrapped bundle I had
set aside earlier.  It must have been torture for Lindir to lie there 
staring at
the wrapping, unknowing of what the last item was.  As I leaned over, the
tip of my erection nudged his side and smeared a few clear droplets of my
essence across his back.  My cock twitched, and I felt the first warning
tightening of orgasm low in my belly.

I settled back down on my haunches trying to ignore the firm press of the
hard leather against my pleasure spot, breathing hard and struggling not to
come all over him.  Again.  I snapped the string, unwrapped the bundle,
and threw the parchment on the floor.

Lindir’s eyes grew huge when he saw what was in the package and the
realization of what I was asking of him began to penetrate his lust-drunk
mind.  “Oh no, no, nonono, you can’t mean…” He shook his head
vehemently.

“That is precisely what I mean, seron vell.”  (beloved)

“But… it’s enormous, Erestor!” he protested in disbelief.  “It will never
work – you’re insane.  It simply isn’t possible!”  His grey eyes began to
show a bit of panic for the first time.

He was right – it was enormous.  Did I really dare to do this after all?  
But
Celeborn had assured me on that drunken night in Lothlórien when my old
friend first confessed of Orophin’s fondness for inordinately large objects
that it was indeed possible, and first planted the seed of my idea.  
Orophin,
he said, with slow and careful preparation, had managed it, and much
more.  How *much* more he didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t really want to
know.

I held the object up and examined it closely.  “It’s only a bit larger than
what is in inside you right now.  Lindir, trust me.  I would never
intentionally harm you, melethron.”  (lover)

“But…”

I looked intently into his eyes.  He was tempted, oh so tempted, and I
would never force him to do something he wasn’t fully willing to do, but
aside from being painfully aroused, he was also a little frightened.

“Lindir, listen to me.  If you truly wish to stop, you can stop me at any
time by saying the word.  Unless you say the word, I’ll proceed.”

I was frightened a little bit, too, but excited – probably more aroused than
I had ever been in my life.  This was the ultimate challenge for Lindir.  I
knew he wanted to, but was more than likely intimidated by the possibility
that what I proposed was *physically* impossible more than any amount
of pain.  He trusted me not to unduly harm him.  That wasn’t the issue –
the issue was whether he *could* take that monstrosity into his body.

“Lindir?” I held it up again in a question.  “May I?”

For a long moment he stared at it, licking his lips and considering.  
Finally
he bent his head and pressed his forehead into the pillow.  “Aye.”

To be continued…

Title:  The Artistry of Pleasure (5/5)
Author:  Fimbrethiel
Website:  Iavas-e-Guren http://www.hithanaur.net/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
Disclaimer:  Don’t own the Elves, they are owned by Tolkien’s estate.
Master Tolkien, I mean no harm.  No profit has been made.
Beta:  Orchyd Constyne.  Any remaining errors are solely the
responsibility of the author.
Feedback:  Yes, please!
Archive:  Of Elves and Men, Melethryn, aff.net, Library of Moria, Cipher

Summary:  Erestor prepares a surprise for his lover.  Erestor’s POV.

~*~*~*~*~

Inside that mysteriously wrapped package was a hand-carved wooden
phallus, so realistic that each vein looked like it might begin pulsing at 
any
moment.  It was highly polished to a gloss, its surface had been scraped
and sanded smooth, and then varnished with some sort of glazing that
made it non-porous and as smooth as silk.  The dilator was not especially
long, but at its widest it was as big around as my wrist, with a bulbous
glans at one end, flaring slightly along the shaft, then narrowing only
slightly at the base so the body could grip it and hold it in position.

In a purely artistic sense, it was a thing of beauty.  The dark, gleaming
wood was streaked with rings of a light golden honey.  Candlelight from
the wall sconces glinted from its surface, so highly polished that I could
see my reflection in it.  Countless hours must have gone into its creation.
It was a true masterpiece of graceful curves and harmonizing colors.

As a sexual object, it was menacing.

It looked gigantic when I had removed it carefully from the packaging the
craftsman had delivered my toys in.  It appeared even larger now, held in
my hand alongside Lindir’s slender hips.  I did, in truth, wonder how my
slight lover would ever fit this inside him, but I kept Celeborn’s words in
mind and reached for the salve.

Which was a very bad idea on my part.  The phallus in my body shifted
again, and I had to stifle a groan.  I sat back on my thighs keeping the
pressure off my backside and took a few steadying breaths while my shaft
twitched threateningly, ready to overflow.

When I thought my body was under control again, I touched his shoulder
gently and gave him one last opportunity to change his mind.  “Are you
sure, Lindir?  Absolutely sure you want me to do this?”

“For the sake of Mandos, just do it, Erestor,” he barked, clearly at the end
of his tether.  “I’m sure… but you will pay for this, melethronen.”  (my
lover)

Oops.

I should have figured that Lindir’s devious little mind would already be
planning sweet revenge, but I would worry about his retribution later.  I
was excruciatingly aroused, my ass was on fire, my cock was dripping like
a leaky faucet, and Lindir was grinding up and down on that pillow like a
rutting mongrel.

My lover had been bound in the same position for a good while now, and I
was a bit concerned about his comfort.  But he seemed not to be in any
great distress.  He wouldn’t be tied up that much longer, anyway, so I
decided to proceed.

I smeared the greasy salve all over the smooth wood, making sure every
last bit was coated well, and laid the jar next to me within easy reach.  We
would need it again before we were through.

Slowly, carefully, and steadily I pulled the dilator from Lindir’s body.  He
whimpered a little when the thickest part spread him widest, but with
another gentle tug, it finally pulled free with a wet squelching noise.

It was difficult to believe that the tiny pink pucker of less than an hour
before could stretch to such magnitude.  I am not small myself – the Valar
have indeed blessed me, and Lindir has no cause for complaint – but I can
say with certitude that neither myself nor any of his previous lovers had
ever been nearly as well endowed as what I proposed to stuff him with.  I
hoped my toy wasn’t going to spoil him.

Quickly, while his entrance was still wide and gaping, I inserted the tip
and gently pushed, just enough to keep him loose and stretched for what
was to come – which was, hopefully, him and me, and not necessarily in
that order.  Then again, I amended, after what I was putting him through, I
would be gracious and allow him to go first.  I hoped.

Lindir lay with his forehead pressed against the mattress, his breathing
hitching.  When I slid in the very tip, he instinctively tensed against me.

“You must relax, Lindir, or you’ll be injured,” I admonished, again
reaching for the salve.  I scooped up a bit more and smeared it around the
glans and shaft, and slicked a bit more around his anus, just for good
measure.

“Erestor, you’re purporting to insert something roughly the size of a small
continent in my ass; it’s a little difficult to relax.”  He turned his head 
to
glare up at me.

I smiled.  My lover does have a way with words.  It was a comfort to hear
that biting wit – I knew he was not in danger of harm if he was able to
banter so.

“Breathe, Lindir, you must trust me.  Do you trust me?”

“The Valar help me, I do.”  He took a few slow, measured breaths, and I
could see the tension drain from his body and feel his muscles relax under
my hands.

“Very good; now breathe slowly, just like that.”

A fraction of an inch at a time I started working the dilator into his
passage, never pushing too hard, and stopping when I felt resistance.  He
would take another few breaths and I would proceed further.  He panted
and groaned, and every sound sent another vibration straight to my cock
and made my arse twitch around its own solid packing.

Past the tip, the shaft flared a bit.  At its largest circumference, there 
was
one heart-stopping moment when I feared it was simply too large.  I
pushed, again very gently but insistently, but the dildo refused to proceed
another inch.  In spite of Lindir’s refusal to utter the word, I was 
prepared
to abandon the game and stop.  He had been through enough, and I
wouldn’t take things further.  He was stubborn, but I wouldn’t punish him
for that mulishness.  Things had already progressed further than I had ever
hoped or dreamed.

“Lindir,” I wheezed, “I’m afraid to go any further.  I’m going to stop.”

He shook his head frantically, his forehead again pressed to the bed.  The
blankets were wadded in his hands, and with each rasping breath he
whimpered a bit.

“How much more?”  His voice was harsh and muffled from his face
buried in the sheets.

I blinked.  He wanted me to continue?

When I didn’t respond, he repeated more loudly, his voice taking on a
commanding tone I had never heard before, and one I never would have
expected to hear from someone bound and virtually helpless.  “How much
more?”

“You are almost at the thickest part.”

“Go ahead and do it.”

Oh Valar, he really did want me to continue.  “I don’t know… are you in
pain?”

“Nothing I can’t handle – just do it, Erestor.”

My mouth was suddenly parched, and I licked my dry lips with a leaden
tongue. “If you insist on proceeding, I’ll need your help.  Can you do
that?”

He nodded against the blanket and uttered a sound that I surmised was a
‘yes’.  He could very well have intended, ‘I loathe you, don’t even think of
doing this to me again,’ but I chose to believe the former.

Struggling to keep the trembling from my voice, I instructed him in what I
wanted to him to do.  “I’m going to simply hold the phallus in place while
you push very – VERY – gently.  When you relax your muscles, your
body will open and allow me entrance.”

He nodded again and took a few more deep breaths.  The salve-slick, tight
flesh around his anus bulged just the slightest bit when he exerted
pressure, and when he relaxed, I counter-pressed.  The phallus slipped
forward a little more, and I held it in place while he pushed again.  Bit by
bit, the widest part breached his body finally the rest slipped in easily.

“Good boy,” I praised, gazing down at him while I wiped my greasy hands
on my robe.

His face was flushed and sweating.  He panted and moaned, thrusting
wildly into the pillows.  His anus, stretched widely around the plug, was
bright red, the normally pale pink skin bright red and glistening with
lubricant and stretched smooth.

The tip of my braid fell over my shoulder, so I trailed the end over his
buttocks, played it over his tight sac, and around that shiny flesh.

“Gods, Lindir, if you could only see how amazing you look…” I croaked.
Never in all my years had I before, or have since, seen such an erotic,
arousing, captivating sight as my beautiful, sensual lover bound by the
wrists and split near in two.

And the scent…  if I could have bottled the scent, I could have become a
very wealthy man.  Lindir has an intriguing fresh fragrance of his own –
somewhat spicy like mint, with clear herbal undertones.  Add a dash of
heavy oil, a few musky whiffs of male arousal, a trace of the metallic tang
of semen, and a hint of clean, wholesome sweat, and Master Elrond would
find himself extremely short-staffed.  None in Imladris would ever leave
their beds long enough to get any work done.

I untied my robe and let it fall on the floor.  My cock jutted straight up,
dripping with pre-come.  It wouldn’t take much to set me over the edge –
my sac was high and snug against my body, and that fluttering in my
lower stomach wouldn’t relent.

Carefully, taking care not to jar the phallus inside my own body, I crawled
up the bed on all fours alongside my squirming, panting, moaning lover
and fumbled with the ties on one of his wrists.  Once one hand was untied,
I slid out of the way while he twisted and wriggled over on his side to
push himself up toward the head of the bed.

Every movement must have been exquisite with pleasure-pain, because
with each panting gasp of his breath, he mewled.  He had long since given
up trying to form coherent words; his vocalizations were reduced to
indecipherable moans and whimpers.  His cock stood straight at attention,
all shiny with pre-come and almost purple in his excited state.

While he fumbled with the other wrist strap, I lay down beside him and
spread my thighs.  He could see that black, leather-wrapped dildo now,
and understood then why I had escaped to the bathroom.

He was frantic, fumbling one-handed to free himself from the second bond
while I finally grasped my aching cock with one hand and started working
the plug in and out of my backside with the other.  Valar, it felt so good
after so long restraining myself.

Lindir panted and whimpered.  I could only imagine how full and
stretched he must have felt.  The thought made me twitch.  I didn’t dare
stroke faster, because I was dangerously close to coming.  That tingle
wouldn’t stop; I stroked just barely quickly enough to keep myself on the
edge without going over.

He almost had his second wrist untied, but his eyes never left the view
between my legs.  Slowly I pulled on the dildo and groaned with
disappointment when it finally slid out.  I tossed it aside and found the
salve again, scooped some up and slipped two fingers into my gaping hole,
thrusting them in and out.

The sounds that escaped Lindir’s mouth were unlike anything I had ever
heard before – a cross between a mewl and a howl.

“Hurry, lover, I’m all ready for you,” I panted, one hand working my cock
slowly, my own juices making my hands wonderfully slick, and the other
delving deep inside, searching for my pleasure spot.  “I want you.  How
badly do you want me?  You must be full to bursting.  Come fuck me,
lover... I’m waiting.”

He was crazed with lust.  The second strap simply would not untie, so he
literally ripped it off the post and was on top of me almost before I
realized what had happened.  With a snarl, he shoved my thighs back and
threw my ankles over his shoulders.  One long, hard thrust later and he
was buried all the way in my backside and immediately pounding in and
out.

“Fuck, fuck… oh gods Valar, FUCK.”

He was too far gone to have any idea what he was saying or doing, only
caring about that enormous phallus in his body, rubbing against his
prostate, and his cock buried in my ass.

I was on the edge – he was wild.  I stroked myself fast and furiously while
his hard shaft plowed me raw.  Gods, it was amazing.  We’ve been lovers
for years, but there has never been another night to rival that one for 
sheer
lust.  In about ten strokes I came furiously, howling, and spurted so hard I
thought my spine would burst through my chest.  I panted, riding out the
waves of orgasm, my rear muscles clenching and unclenching, and that
proved to be Lindir’s undoing.

He plunged deeply once, twice, and then screamed.  I could feel my
muscles stretching and burning around his erection, and then the hot spurt
of his seed deep inside me.

Then he collapsed.  His overtaxed body had given out, and he fainted.

“Poor baby,” I murmured against the sweat-slicked neck.  When my own
breathing had slowed, I wriggled out from underneath him and patted his
cheek gently.  Lindir blinked a few times and came back to me.

“Lie still, seron vell,” I said, pushing a clinging tendril of damp hair 
back
from his face.  The look he gave me was utterly blank; he was still in a
stupor from the tremendous experience.

“Lindir, I’m going to remove the phallus now.  Breathe slowly and relax,
love.”  The words were pointless; I’m not sure he even knew where he
was, or *who* he was at that moment.

I thought removing the dilator would be difficult, but he was utterly
relaxed.  Lindir whimpered a little, but with less effort than I would have
believed, the dildo slid out with a wet pop.  His entrance was quite red, 
but
he didn’t seem to have been injured.

I swept all the toys and the salve back into the basket and used a spare
towel to wipe down our bodies.

“Rest, love, while I draw a bath for you.”  He muttered something
unintelligible.  I walked gingerly to the bathroom, his seed still trickling
from my body, and opened the hot-water tap from the hot springs.  While
the tub filled, I cleaned up our toys and swiped the remnants of his essence
from my tender bottom.  I would be sore tomorrow from Lindir’s frenzied
lovemaking, but the discomfort I would feel would likely be nothing
compared to his.

Back in my bedroom while the water reached a proper level in the tub, I
tried to rouse him.

“Lindir…”  I shook his shoulder lightly.

“Mmmph,” came the muffled reply.  Carefully, so I didn’t have to move
him more than necessary, I wadded up one side of the soiled blanket and
then helped him sit up.  Once he was up and leaning heavily against me, I
jerked on the blanket and the rest of it came off.  I left it lying on the 
floor
and pulled down the sheets, making the bed ready for us when we were
through bathing.

Lindir’s legs didn’t want to support him, so I carried him to the bath.
Somehow I managed to maneuver him into the tub without dropping him.
At last he was settled in the warm water between my legs, my thighs
supporting his in order to keep his bottom raised, and let his head loll 
back
against my chest.  I sang softly to myself as I washed him clean, lathered
and rinsed his hair.  He dozed against my chest, his breathing slow and
peaceful.  From his slumber, he whimpered a bit when I ran the soft cloth
over his bottom, so I was as careful as I could be.

At length I managed to rouse him enough to get him out of the water so I
could dry him off and give his hair a quick, haphazard brushing.  It would
be a mess in the morning, but what he needed most was sleep, not
coiffing, and I didn’t worry about it.  Lindir loved for me to comb and
brush his hair, so I didn’t think he would especially mind if we left it 
until
later.

I carried him back to bed and lay him down gently, then crawled in next to
him and pulled the sheets over us.  For a long while I lay beside to my
beloved, spooned around his body, listening to the slow, steady rhythm of
his breathing.  Unconsciously, Lindir snuggled into my arms, and I sighed
contentedly.

Valar, I love this Elf.


~*~*~ finis ~*~*~