Title: Whipped Cream and Fan-fiction Author: Inwë Sáralondë Email: mb2002ldgd@yahoo.com.au Pairing(s): Erestor/Glorfindel Rating: NC17 Summary: Erestor and Glorfindel did not sail, but remained behind and now live in the modern world and all the fun associated with it… Written for the Glorester Challenge. And, yes, it’s a little tongue in cheek. Genre: Romance Word count: 2,754 Warnings: Let’s see…sex, bad humour, a slightly strange plot…think that just about covers it… Beta: Aglarien Disclaimer: The characters portrayed are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien. No profit or such is made from this. Authors Note: The prompts used were 1 Apr 2006 – ‘feline’; 7 Apr 2006 – ‘dessert’; 19 Apr 2006 – ‘mine’; 28 Apr 2006 – ‘curls’; 6 May 2006 – ‘chocolate‘;9 May 2006 – ‘Balrog‘;15 May 2006 – ‘rascal‘;29 May 2006 – ‘quilt‘;31 May 2006 – ‘mushrooms‘;5 Jun 2006 – ‘legs‘;27 Jun 2006 – ‘death‘;14 Jul 2006 – ‘purple‘; 18 Jul 2006 – ‘festschrift‘;20 Jul 2006 – ‘yellow’; 23 Jul 2006 – ‘unto‘;26 Jul 2006 – ‘proselytise‘; 27 Jul 2006 – ‘write/writing‘;31 Jul 2006 – ‘snuggle‘;7 Aug 2006 – ‘no way‘; 10 Aug 2006 – ‘cranky‘; 31 Aug 2006 – ‘potato/potatoes/taters‘;7 Sep 2006 – ‘laugh/laughter‘;10 Sep 2006 – ‘braid‘; 16 Sep 2006 – ‘babysit/babysitter/babysitting‘;19 Sep 2006 – ‘pirate’ and ‘booty‘; 26 Sep 2006 – ‘long/longing’; 27 Sep 2006 – ‘scarf’; 1 Oct 2006 – ‘freeze/freezing/froze/frozen‘;14 Oct 2006 – ‘warm’; 16 Oct 2006 – ‘vampire’; 18 Oct 2006 – ‘blanket‘; 20 Oct 2006 – ‘zombie‘; 29 Oct 2006 – ‘book/books‘ and ‘torture/torment’; 31 Oct 2006 – ‘candy’; 1 Nov 2006 – ‘treat’; 5 Nov 2006 – ‘impale/impaled‘ and ‘shaft’; 12 May 2007 – ‘appreciation’; 6 June 2007 – ‘horny’; 24 July 2007 – ‘behave’ ************************ “Do we have any whipped cream?” Glorfindel’s voice broke Erestor’s concentration, and he closed his book with a snap. “Whipped cream.” The irritation was clearly evident in the darkling elf’s voice, but Glorfindel chose to ignore it. “Yes, whipped cream. To have with our dessert. You *did* remember to get whipped cream while you out shopping?” “Shopping?” Erestor echoed faintly. Glorfindel looked at Erestor in exasperation. “Yes, shopping. It was your turn to do it, remember?” “I forgot.” Erestor flushed slightly. “I spent the afternoon reading the festschrift that was given to me at the presentation last week.” The former advisor of Imladris had recently worked at a university as a lecturer on literature, with his main focus on J.R.R. Tolkien. He had ‘retired’ from his position, using the excuse that he wanted to follow other pursuits, though the reality was so that they protected their existence. And they never stayed in one place long enough, always moving from one area to another so that they did not generate any curiosity as to why they never seemed to age. “Is this for the work you did on Tolkien?” Erestor nodded. “Who would have thought that Tolkien would have taken our story and put it into a book?” “Not just one book, melethen, but a series of them. And he was clever enough not to include everything we told him. He left some things to peoples’ imaginations.” The former chief advisor of Imladris smiled. “And peoples’ imaginations have been running riot ever since the movies came out. Especially in the form of ‘fan-fiction’.” Glorfindel groaned. “Do *not* remind me. The number of stories that have written about us – not to mention Elladan, Elrohir, Legolas, Elrond, Celeborn, Haldir and Valar knows who else – beggars belief. I really have to wonder sometimes how people come up with these ridiculous plots.” “Read some more, have we?” Erestor’s smile broadened to a grin as he took in the sheepish expression on his lover’s face. “Mayhap one or two,” he admitted. “Any good?” Erestor asked casually. Glorfindel shrugged. “Some were not too bad; then there were those along the lines of ‘faster, harder, fuck me through the mattress’.” “It must have been absolute torture to have had to read those particular stories,” Erestor teased. “You have no idea.” Glorfindel stretched. “Reading them made one feel rather horny.” Erestor grimaced. “Such a crude word.” “What, horny?” Glorfindel rose from his chair. “Crude or not, it sums up how I felt after reading what I did.” “I take it you did something to…?” “Alleviate a minor problem or two? I had no choice. After all, you were not here to alleviate them for me, were you?” “If you do not like them, mayhap you should write your own.” Erestor pretended to ponder. “You could write your account of fighting the balrog and call it ‘The Death of the Balrog’. Except there would not be any…what is the word? Smut, that is it. Unless…” Erestor’s eyes were twinkling mischievously. Glorfindel shuddered. “Ugh…no way.” His response was adamant. “I think your imagination may excel some of the writers out there. And I never said I did not like them. Just that some of them make me horny.” Glorfindel walked over to Erestor and placed his hands on the arms of the chair the darkling elf was sitting in, effectively pinning him in place. “Now, if you were not grocery shopping this afternoon, where were you?” “At Starbucks, reading the festschrift,” Erestor confessed. Glorfindel shook his head. “I might have known. Why do you not just take a mattress, pillow and blanket and sleep there? I, for one, can not understand your fascination for that place.” “I like their coffee. And I like to observe all the people that come into the shop.” The golden-haired former warrior sighed. “I should have known. Your fascination with the second-born is becoming a tad obsessive, melethen.” “Not obsessive, just…curious. They never cease to amaze me.” “Just be careful, melethen. There are those who would object to your scrutiny.” “Do not worry,” Erestor said. “I am. You know I would not do anything to jeopardise our existence.” Glorfindel moved away from the chair, allowing his lover to get up. “So, what do we have to eat?” he asked. Erestor thought for a moment. “I know we still have some potatoes, and the chocolate mousse in the refrigerator.” “But no whipped cream to go with said chocolate mousse.” The darkling elf shook his head. “Do we have any meat or fish in the freezer?” Again, Erestor shook his head. “Do we have *any* food in the house apart from potatoes and chocolate mousse.” “I do not think so,” Erestor responded slowly, thinking. “No, definitely not. We could always call for a pizza,” he said brightly. Glorfindel pulled a face. “Do not think to proselytise me, Erestor.” “Since when is eating pizza a cause?” “Not just pizza, but every conceivable junk food available.” Glorfindel’s voice was severe. “You may like junk food but *I* do not.” “All right, all right, I get the message.” Erestor placed his book on the table. “Shall we go shopping then?” “You are cranky now.” Erestor glared at Glorfindel. “Of course I am cranky. You know how much I hate going into the supermarket.” Glorfindel sighed. “Look, let us get some basic things, and then we will find something in the frozen section of the supermarket for dinner.” “But you do not like things from the frozen section either.” “I know. However, there are some reasonably healthy alternatives to be found there, and we can use the microwave to heat them. Fair enough?” Erestor mulled for a moment. “Fair enough,” he agreed finally. “I will even let you choose what we shall have.” “How magnanimous of you,” Glorfindel retorted sarcastically. He went out of the room, then returned some minutes later, his hair in a braid, and with a yellow and purple scarf around his neck. Erestor stared. “Where in Mordor did you get that?” he asked, pointing to the scarf. “This? I found it at the little market last week. Pretty, is it not?” Erestor screwed up his face. “No, Glorfindel, it is not pretty. If anything, it shows that you have absolutely poor taste.” Glorfindel looked offended. “I think it is lovely,” he said defensively. Erestor snorted. “Each to their own,” he muttered as he started to leave the room. “Wait. Do you have the list I gave you this morning of what we need?” The darkling elf paused. “Errrr…good question.” He looked around the room. “Ah, yes, now I know where it is.” Going back to the table, he picked up his book. “I am using it as a bookmark.” “As one would,” Glorfindel drawled. “Do you think you could find something else to use? Such as a proper bookmark, an object specifically designed to mark one’s place in a book?” “Oh, stop being so puerile!” Glorfindel threw up his hands. “I am not being puerile, Erestor, just extremely frustrated. How could you have not realised that you were supposed to do the shopping when you were using the list as a bookmark?” Taking in the slightly slumped shoulders, Glorfindel sighed. “Oh, never mind. Now that you have it in your hand, can you check to see that I wrote mushrooms on there?” Erestor nodded. “Can we get some candy, too?” he asked meekly. Glorfindel smiled ruefully. “If it means keeping the peace where your sweet tooth is concerned, then we will.” He walked towards the darkling elf and took him in his arms. “I love you, Glorfindel.” “I love you, too.” “Even if I am forgetful and do not like grocery shopping?” Glorfindel’s response was to kiss Erestor thoroughly. “Does that answer your question?” he asked as they both drew apart. “Mmm…possibly.” “Possibly? It looks like I may have to convince you even more.” That said, Glorfindel lowered his head and captured his lover’s lips again. When they broke apart again, both were trying to steady their breathing in an effort to alleviate the discomfort of their arousals. “I think…” Here Erestor swallowed. “I think that answered my question most…effectively.” “I am glad.” Glorfindel rested his forehead against Erestor’s. “But later you may need to answer it again.” “Cheeky elf,” Glorfindel groused good-naturedly. “However, if it is necessary, I shall answer it again for you, but in more detail.” “I shall look forward to that,” Erestor purred. “Behave, you rascal.” “Must I?” Erestor pouted. “You must. Now, whether you like it or not, let us tackle that supermarket.” ************************ Both Glorfindel and Erestor sat back, replete. “There, was that not better than a frozen meal or pizza?” Glorfindel said happily. “You were the one who suggested a frozen meal.” “Ah, but that was before I saw the fish. Now, admit it, the fish took less time to cook than a frozen meal.” “Marginally. And you did end up using frozen vegetables.” “A minor concession only.” Erestor rolled his eyes. “If you say so.” He took another sip of his wine, then began stacking the plates. “When do we babysit Timothy again?” “The day after tomorrow though, technically, it will not be babysitting as Doug will be with him. Seems he managed to take some time off work, and suggested he come round with Timothy so that we could all go fishing,” Glorfindel replied. “He says Tracy is getting into a flap trying to finish the costumes for the school play, and figures that he needs to be out of the house as much as his son.” The darkling elf chuckled. “I can well imagine that he wants to be away from there.” Glorfindel smiled. “I think Doug has said in the past that whenever Tracy is in a ‘creative frenzy’, then the house looks as if a bomb hit it. Not to mention the pieces of thread, material and other bits and pieces that he seems to find on his clothes. He said he and Timothy would be here a little after eight.” “Not a problem now that I no longer am at the university,” Erestor said. As he finished stacking the dishes, he asked, “Any ‘Timothy phases’ we need to worry about?” “Well, according to Tracy, the ‘zombie’ phase is finally finished. I do not think she has yet forgiven Doug for letting Timothy watch that zombie film with him, even if his excuse was that the boy could not sleep.” “Let us not forget the vampire phase he went through before that.” “That Tracy blames herself for. She did, after all, make him a vampire costume for Halloween last year,” Glorfindel said. “No, this time Timothy is going through a pirate phase. Doug has already warned me that we should be prepared to help him find some ‘booty’ when they are with us.” Erestor shook his head, and then smiled. “Fair enough. I think we have some things that we could ‘donate’ to the cause. It would not be much fun for Timothy otherwise if he were not able to find anything.” “I agree,” but Glorfindel’s reply was to Erestor’s back as the darkling elf brought the dirty dishes into the kitchen. The golden-haired elf watched in admiration as the black jeans Erestor was wearing showed off his slim legs, not to mention the taut buttocks that he was now itching to get his fingers on. “Ready for dessert?” Erestor asked as he returned from the kitchen, the bowl of chocolate mousse in his hands. “Most definitely. However, I find I no longer want chocolate mousse. I have something more…delicious in mind.” There was such a look of longing in Glorfindel’s eyes that Erestor could not fail to notice it. “What ‘dessert’ did you have in mind, then?” Glorfindel rose from his chair, strode towards Erestor and relieved him of the bowl, placing it on the table. “Bedroom, now,” he ordered before heading off into the kitchen. “What are you doing?” “Never mind what I am doing. Just go to the bedroom, remove your clothes, and lie on the bed. I have already removed the bedspread.” Curious as to what his lover had in mind, Erestor nevertheless went and did as he was told. It was not long before Glorfindel arrived, the can of whipped cream in his hand. Erestor’s eyes widened. “What are you planning to do with the whipped cream?” Glorfindel grinned. “Decorate my dessert, of course.” His eyes travelled over Erestor’s body with undisguised appreciation. “I am quite looking forward to my treat.” Erestor shivered in anticipation. “Are you not a little…over-dressed, melethen?” he whispered huskily. Glorfindel smirked. “Something that is easily remedied, ervainen vorn.” Laying the can on the bed, the former seneschal removed his clothes. Erestor’s mouth watered as he took in the sight of his lover’s body: the broad shoulders and chest, the muscled abdomen tapering down to the narrow waist, the erection jutting proudly, the tip glistening with pre-come. He could feel his own erection hardening even further in response. The darkling elf watched as his lover picked up the can and shook it before removing the cap. “Now, where to start decorating,” Glorfindel mused as he knelt on the bed. “I think I shall start…here.” Erestor’s squeal turned to laughter as his lover applied the whipped cream to his nipples. “That is cold!” he spluttered. Glorfindel laid aside the can. “Not for long,” he said. “I promise you will be quite warm when I am finished.” Bending down, the golden-haired elf proceeded to lick off the cream, laving each nipple with his tongue till they stood in hardened peaks. Erestor squirmed, his breathing shallow. “More,” he whispered. Glorfindel raised his head, his eyes darkened to indigo. “I will give you more, melethen, and then more again,” he said, his voice husky with desire. He bent down and kissed the head of Erestor’s weeping erection, making the darkling elf moan with want. “Shall I tell you of something I read this afternoon?” Glorfindel continued, tasting his lover as he licked his lips of the pre-come. “What?” Erestor’s voice was barely audible. “There was one story,” the golden-haired elf began, as he ran his finger lightly along the darkling elf’s erection, watching it jump, “where the writer wrote how I impaled you forcefully on my shaft, making you scream. Shall I do that now, hmm? Or should I, as another person wrote, be gentle with you, yet torment you with kisses and touches until you are incoherent with need? Tell me, ervainen vorn. Tell me what you want.” Glorfindel’s voice was hoarse from his attempt at suppressing his own raging desire. Erestor whimpered. He wanted anything and everything that his lover could give him. His own eyes almost black with lust, he looked at Glorfindel. “Do unto me what you will,” he said huskily. Glorfindel groaned. “Then prepare yourself for a long night, melethen.” Reaching over to the nightstand, he pulled out the lube from the drawer. “But I can not wait any longer; I must have you now!” The darkling elf gazed at the golden-haired elf, taking in the wild look in his lover’s eyes. He knew then how Glorfindel would take him – hard, fast, and with little mercy – and was relishing the prospect. Even after millennia, their love-making was still as fierce as it was when they first came together. Erestor spread his legs willingly, welcoming the slight burn as Glorfindel thrust three fingers into his entrance, preparing him cursorily for what was to come. Soon the fingers were withdrawn and replaced by something more substantial, and Erestor relaxed as he welcomed his lover into his body. Almost immediately Glorfindel began thrusting, and the darkling elf wrapped his legs around his lover’s waist, drawing him in further, his cries and pleas exhorting Glorfindel to go harder and faster still. Erestor could feel his orgasm approaching and, when it did, he allowed himself to fall over the abyss, screaming Glorfindel’s name as he did so. Dimly he heard Glorfindel roar, felt as his lover’s essence filled him, and smiled contentedly as his lover slumped onto the bed beside him. “Mine,” Glorfindel whispered, drawing Erestor’s face towards him and kissing him gently. “Always yours, melethen, and always have been.” “I know,” Glorfindel said simply. He reached down for the quilt and pulled it over the two of them, smiling as he felt Erestor snuggle up against him. “A veritable feline you are, melethen, one who curls up against any warmth he can find.” Amusement laced the golden-haired elf’s voice. In response, Erestor merely purred. ************************ Elvish translations: ervainen vorn – my dark beautiful one melethen – my love Festschrift (fest'-shrift): n. a memorial or complimentary volume issued in honour of a scholar, usually in the subject area in which the individual distinguished himself or herself, often written by former students, colleagues or admirers; also, a similar volume honouring an institution or society, usually on a significant anniversary [from German fest "celebration" + schrift "publication"]. Proselytise: 1. To induce someone to convert to one's faith. 2. To recruit someone to join one's party, institution or cause. Transitive verb to recruit or convert especially to a new faith, institution or cause. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*