Dwarves' Tongues
by Kate of Kintail

The naked elf's pale flesh shone in the full moon's light, as it came in through the window. He lay on his stomach, his back smooth and beaded with sweat, his rear curved just perfectly for Gimli to cup his cheeks. His head was turned to the side, resting on crossed arms, hair flowing this way and that as though the wind had tossed it and he had no intention of correcting the wind's placement. Gimli crawled forward on his hands and knees, breathless, sweating. His beard scratched against Legolas' cheek as he moved in for a kiss. It lasted but moments, both parties still unable to breathe properly after such physical exertion.

"I tired you out this time," Gimli observed with pride, cupping his hand over the cheek on Legolas' face.

"Almost nearly," whispered Legolas, his voice smooth and calm as it glided along the nighttime air.

"Almost nearly, he says," Gimli whispered with a laugh, collapsing beside his elf. "As though I'm going to believe that after the time we just had?" He began touching Legolas, running rough fingers over the gentle skin. He pulled back the long blond hair, almost strand by strand. The task, slow as it was, uncovered a braid that had been pulled and partially undone. Gimli took it carefully, separating it from the other strands of hair, and slowly he re-braided it. "No, I took your breath away, I know that much." One hand gave the half-done braid to the other and it ran down his shoulder to his back.

"Do you, my Love?" Legolas turned his head, facing away with a grand smile.

"Oh, I do!" Gimli insisted, leaning forward, to get at his face. Deciding it was easier to just crawl over him, he did just that. "You were begging for it, with that sly smile of yours and those sparkling blue eyes." He grinned and ran his hand down Legolas' side. "Those pert little nipples, and that hard cock." His hand met wetness where Legolas' belly met the floor. "You begged for me to take you, to ride you. When I did, you moaned and yelled with passion and without restraint. And you loved every minute of my doing it to you."

Legolas smirked, turning his face again down again, into his crossed arms. "Dwarfes' tongues run on when speaking of their handiwork, they say."

Gimli nuzzled close, making Legolas turn his head to look at him. "And elves have a hard time admitting how good dwarves' skills can be, especially when using their tongues."

"Not this elf," Legolas said, reaching forward and kissing Gimli. This kiss was not so quickly ended as the first. It was long, drawn-out, and it conveyed any sentiment that might have been in doubt a moment before. The dwarf's tongue set to work on it as well, caressing Legolas' lips until they opened, then lashing forward with seductive strokes. When they pulled back, there was no room for doubt on any level, and Legolas nodded. "This elf, your elf, was begging for it, moaning with passion, and ridden until breathless."

"Damn right you were." Legolas reached over and pulled a grinning Gimli close, rolling over onto his side, hugging tightly.

The moonlight shone down on the lovers, naked and now motionless, curled up on the floor in a heap. Bodies still drenched in sweat, hair messed and unbraided, the dwarf and elf were utterly as unkempt as they had ever been. And yet, they had never looked better wrapped in each others' arms.

Author's Note: The line "Dwarves' tongues run on when speaking of their handiwork, they say" was said by Glóin in The Fellowship of the Ring and the inspiration for this scene. But I'm not entirely sure Gimli's father would approve of his son's behavior in this fic :-)