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"Ah, another fine meal and good company! I'm going to be sorry to leave, even though I miss my kin," the dwarf rumbled as he opened the door to the room he shared with his friend.
"I, too," the elf replied, shutting the door as he passed through it and shedding his velvet tunic. "Still, it will be good to be among trees again instead of surrounded by stone. I know that you prefer it, elvellon, but I miss the trees." He chuckled as Gimli stifled a yawn. "To bed with you, Master Sluggard! Too much good food and good ale has made you sleepy." He chuckled again at the glare he received. "I have resigned myself to having no rest as your snores will shake the eaves above my head." His laughter trailed behind him as he fled across the bed dodging the boot that Gimli lobbed at his head.
"Wanker," the dwarf muttered under his breath, forgetting momentarily the acuteness of elven hearing.
"Wanker?" Legolas repeated, his eyebrows in his hairline. "What, may I ask, is a wanker?" Gimli flushed beet red.
"Well, it's when you, um, well wanking is..." he stammered, finally resorting to using gestures no male could fail to recognize. "Oh, come now, elf! Surely you don't mean to tell me you don't know what that is!"
"Of course," the archer replied calmly. "Most beings do so at some point in their lives and those that deny it are being untruthful." He smirked at Gimli. "I simply did not realize that dwarves were so fond of the practice as to give it a special name." Gimli stared at his friend, caught between outrage and humor. The humor won and he began laughing uproariously. The elf's musical laugh joined the dwarf's and Legolas flopped down on the bed, kicking his shoes across the room and wiggling his toes contentedly. Rolling onto his side and propping his chin in his hand, the elf studied his still mirthful friend. Gimli felt the scrutiny and raised his own eyebrow in the elf's direction.
"Ask what you're wanting to know, lad, and stop staring a hole through me," he groused, not truly discomfited.
"Forgive me if I offend, as I assure you I do not intend to, but is it true that there are three times as many dwarf males as females?" Legolas was frowning slightly, and worrying his lower lip with his teeth.
"Aye, it's true. Why do you think we have a special name for self-pleasuring," the dwarf replied, trying to keep the tone light.
"Do your kin pair only with the opposite gender, or do some pair with like?"
"Some do, some don't. There's no bias against it, if that's what you're asking. Why?" Gimli could not be sure in the flickering light of the lantern, but he would swear that Legolas' ears were red.
"That is another similarity between our kindreds, then," the elf replied, shifting to sit cross-legged against the headboard. "My people care far less about the form of their lover as they do their manner and actions."
"Just so," Gimli grunted in agreement, shedding his heavy tunic and sitting down on the bench at the foot of the bed to remove his remaining boot and heavy socks.
"Feh! Gimli, I vow something has crawled up into your boots and perished!" Legolas was up off the bed and across the room to the washstand, his face bearing an expression of extreme distaste before his friend could react. He poured a generous amount of water into the bowl and, gathering up a cake of soap and several cloths, he carried the bowl over and set it at Gimli's feet. Sitting down, he grasped the dwarf's left ankle. "Give me your foot, I shall never be able to rest with this stink in the air."
"I can wash my own feet, elf," Gimli replied, pulling his foot from the elf's grasp. Legolas just looked at him, eyebrow cocked and Gimli shrugged, giving in.
There was something very sensual about having one's feet washed, he realized a few minutes later, and combined with the topic their conversation not so long before, it was having a rather profound effect on his body. He silently blessed the fact that his shirt hung loosely as well as almost to his knees and decided just to relax and enjoy the feel of the cloth and Legolas' hands on his feet and ankles. Through half-closed eyes he looked down at the golden head of the elf. From his vantage point, he could see the graceful sweep of the dark eyebrows, the long eyelashes, the straight nose, and the smooth, hairless angles of the elf's cheekbones as well as the leaf-shaped ears and the silken fall of Legolas' sunlight hair. He resisted the urge to sigh. He had told Legolas the truth when he said that some of his kindred cleaved unto their own gender. He had simply neglected to mention that he was one of that number, and that instead of another stocky, bearded warrior of his own kind, he was drawn to a lithe, slender elf-warrior. He valued the elf's friendship too highly to risk it by speaking of his attraction.
Strong fingers, slightly calloused by centuries of archery, massaged the bottoms of his feet and he nearly groaned aloud with pleasure. At this rate, a trip to the privy to relieve more than his bladder was definitely going to be necessary in order for him to sleep this night. He continued to watch Legolas' face, startling slightly when the elf suddenly reached out and fumbled with his pack, drawing a small pot from it. Legolas looked up through his eyelashes at Gimli, a slight smile gracing his lips as he held up the pot.
"Salve," he said resting Gimli's foot on his knee. "Your skin is very dry and will begin to crack and bleed if it is not treated." The massage began again, this time with the added benefit of the salve and Gimli fought not to think about to what other uses salve could be put. Yes, most definitely, a trip to the privy was going to be needed. His fingers curled into fists, short nails digging into the flesh of his palms in an effort to remain silent.
He continued to watch Legolas' face as the elf moved the massage from his feet to his ankles. He did not really think his ankles needed the salve like the elf claimed his feet did, but it felt too good to protest so he held his tongue. Legolas looked up through his eyelashes again, his mouth curving into a smile. Gimli stared, not daring to believe his eyes, as the elf's hands slid up his legs to his thighs. Legolas rose to his knees, fitting perfectly in the space between Gimli's legs and bringing his face level with the dwarf's.
"I dared not speak until I was certain what I had to say would be well received," the elf said, his mouth mere inches from Gimli's. "And now, I find it more effective to let my body speak for me. Do you not agree, meleth?"
Gimli made no verbal reply, he merely grasped Legolas by the back of the head and the hip, pulling their bodies tightly together and plundering the archer's lips. The need to breathe forced them apart several moments later and Legolas rested his forehead against Gimli's, their panted breaths mingling.
"Wanker," the elf gasped, grinning. The dwarf laughed and kissed him again, his thick but surprisingly dexterous fingers undoing the elf's braids. Gently tipping Legolas' head up, he nibbled down the column of the archer's neck, his fingers moving through the silky gold strands and smiling as he heard the elf's breath hitch.
Suddenly, Legolas' arms tightened around him and in the space of a breath, Gimli found himself on his back on the bed with the elf straddling him. Legolas gazed down at him, a deliciously predatory look on his face sending a jolt straight down to Gimli's groin. Clever elven fingers attacked the fastenings of his shirt and he shifted, allowing the elf to pull it over his head. Before the shirt hit the floor, Legolas had burrowed under his beard and was nipping and kissing his neck and chest.
"What is this?" the elf asked, popping back out from under the russet beard and lightly running his fingertips over the line of hair running down Gimli's belly. "Does it lead to a treasure?" The long fingers slipped lower to cup the arousal straining the laces of the dwarf's breeches. "Hmmmm, I believe it does!" The expression on Legolas' face was so delightfully naughty that Gimli could not help but laugh in spite of his heightened state of excitement. He stopped laughing a heartbeat later as the elf took the laces in his mouth and pulled, baring Gimli to his stare. "Oh!" he breathed, his eyes wide. "Gimli, meleth, that would do any of Rohan's stallions proud." Gimli grinned fiercely.
"Aye, but there seems to be a problem here," he retorted, tugging at the elf's shirt. Legolas skittered away, laughing.
"Patience, Gimli, patience!" He reached the bedchamber door and bolted it before turning back to his lover. "I have no desire to be interrupted by a curious hobbit."
"Nor I," Gimli agreed, stretching and scooting back to prop himself up against the headboard of the bed. "Now, let me see what's hiding beneath those clothes." The naughty look reappeared, and Legolas began very slowly to shed his clothing, stoking the already blazing fires of desire in his lover. Stepping out of his breeches, the elf stalked toward the bed. He placed his hands on Gimli's ankles and stroked upwards until he reached the waist of the breeches the dwarf still wore.
"Now you are the one overdressed. We need to remedy that," he said, his voice lower and huskier than Gimli had ever before heard it. Grasping the top of the garment, he shucked it quickly down the dwarf's legs and tossed it aside. He caught up the pot of salve and tossed it to Gimli before laying down atop the dwarf and resting his chin on Gimli's sternum. "What do you wish of me, meleth?" he asked, wriggling against his lover just enough to draw a moan from him.
"What do you wish, Legolas? In truth, I'm not really sure that I'm not dreaming this."
"If you are, then we are both dreaming and it is a good dream," the elf replied, stretching up to fuse his mouth with Gimli's and sliding their lengths together. "I wish for you to take me, meleth," he whispered against Gimli's lips. "I want you inside me."
"Yes," the dwarf groaned, gripping Legolas' hair and kissing him until he gasped for breath. He felt the elf's arms slip under him and begin to lift and he grabbed Legolas' arm with the hand not tangled in the elf's hair.
"No! No, you should be on top, so you are in control. I don't want you to have any discomfort in this." He ran a battle and work roughened finger down the satiny skin of the elf's face. "Besides, I want to see you come undone." Legolas graced him with a sweet smile and shifted so that Gimli could reach to prepare him.
Watching the elf's reaction to just his fingers was the most erotic thing Gimli had ever seen. Legolas was as taut as his own bowstring, head thrown back, back arched, eyes closed, and panting, his hands kneading Gimli's thighs, beneath him.
"Enough! I am ready, Gimli, please!"
Slowly, ever so slowly, he eased his hips down, sheathing the dwarf in velvet heat. Gimli groaned loudly, his eyes rolling back in his head as he fought not to buck up into the tight channel. Finally, Legolas sank the rest of the way down and paused for several heartbeats, head dropping forward, his hair obscuring his face. The elf's chest heaved, but he made not a sound. Gimli laid hands that trembled on the elf's thighs, squeezing lightly. Legolas lifted his head. His face was flushed, his mouth open as panting breaths gusted across his lips, stirring Gimli's beard. His hands fumbled along the dwarf's arms for a moment before Gimli realized his intent and laced his fingers with Legolas'.
As if the twining of their fingers was a signal, Legolas began to move above him, slowly at first but increasingly faster until they were rocking together in the most primitive of rhythms. Every muscle in the elf's body tensed, and he pulled his hand out of Gimli's grasp, shoving the heel of it into his mouth to muffle his wail as his seed spilled across Gimli's belly. His climax triggered Gimli's and the dwarf spilled deep inside his clenching passage, biting down on the corner of his pillow to stifle his shout of completion. Legolas swayed atop him for a brief moment before wilting onto his chest. Gimli's arms automatically cradled him, shaking hands stroking the elf's hair and down the damp skin of his back.
The lamp was still lit when Gimli woke sometime later. Turning his head, he gazed proprietarily at the being stretched out next to him. Legolas lay on his back, his hair spread across the pillow and his eyes nearly shut. 'Huh, wore you out, did I?' the dwarf thought smugly, as he shifted away from the sleeping elf. He didn't want to wake Legolas, but he really needed to visit the privy. Moving as quietly as possible, he rose from the bed and pulled on his breeches and shirt before crossing the room and unbolting the door. A quick glance at the elf showed him to still be deeply slumbering and Gimli exited, moving as fast as he could in the direction if the privy.
Returning a bit later, he was surprised to see that Legolas had not budged. As quietly as he had dressed, he undressed and climbed back beneath the light covers. As soon as he had settled, Legolas curled around him, nuzzling into his neck.
"Missed you," the elf muttered sleepily.
"Yes, well I'm back now, elf," he replied, his hands moving gently along Legolas' back and side, making a lie of the gruff tone. He felt the elf smile against his skin.
"Gimli?"
"Yes, Legolas?"
"You know that I love you, do you not?"
"Aye, you daft creature, I do." His hand stroked the corn silk hair back from the elf's face. "And you know I love you."
"Yes, I do." A brief pause, then a chuckle, "Stone-cleaver."
"Tree-hugger."
"Dirt-grubber."
"Point-ear."
"Wanker."
Gimli gave a deep belly laugh and gigged Legolas in the ribs, making him squeal. "Go back to sleep, you daft elf, and I'll show you the best way to wake up come morning." Legolas chuckled again, snuggling into Gimli's side and yawning.
"I look forward to morning, meleth," he murmured, already dropping back into reverie.
"Me, too," Gimli answered, breathing deeply and closing his eyes. "Me, too."
The End
Elvish translations:
Meleth - love
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