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Title: The Randy Elf
Author: heartofslash
Fandom/Pairing: LOTR, Legolas/Gimli
Rating: HotElfDwarfLovin'
Warning: analanalanal
Disclaimer: this is not the Legolas and Gimli from the movies or the book..
Note: Post-war. Gimli is starting up a colony of Dwarves in the Glittering Caves. Legolas is starting up a settlement of Elves in Ithilien. they live too far apart.Contains small references to “Bound to a King”, which will eventually be available from this site.
Dedication: for rifleman_s
The Randy Elf
Legolas moved his hips in short, jerking thrusts. Each time he did so, his flat stomach smacked against Gimli's voluptuous behind, and Gimli made that dark, deep rumbling sound, as if Legolas had just hit his core. It wasn't making love, or even fucking; it was rutting. Base, primal animalistic rutting. And it was exactly what they both wanted.
It had been a long two months. They long-distance arrangement had sounded good in the beginning, but in practice it had proven less than ideal. Separation was taxing, and ideal surroundings could not make up for the lack of ideal companionship.
The ideal surroundings made it worse. Ithilien was beautiful. The trees spoke to Legolas with soft, southern accents, and the air moved swiftly. Legolas was spared any fresh pangs of sea longing, for the wind did not carry salt, but at the point where he had built his home the air began to grow thinner, to spread out, as if anticipating the stretches of open water beyond. Legolas felt young in that opening air. Young and alive.
And randy.
He was a randy Elf.
That was a problem, because he was supposed to be the leader, and leaders are supposed to embody all that is good and pure, noble and strong about their people. Randiness is not widely regarded as a good or pure quality. It is too self-motivated to be noble, and while Legolas would not deny the randiness was strong, it was not the sort of strong that builds nations and instils the masses with a sense of pride in their leader.
To wit, he hopelessly missed his Dwarf.
They had not planned on a reunion for another month or so, but two months of near-constant yearning had driven Legolas to a place of desperation. At the first available opportunity - four Elves arrived from Greenwood, and two of them discovered that they had no rapport at all with Gondorian horses - Legolas had volunteered to venture into the lands of the Horse Lords to fetch more accommodating mounts. His Elven ability to forego sleep had shortened the journey considerably, until Arod's revolt. Legolas was forced to let the horse rest for several hours a good half-day from Helm's Deep. A dip in a frigid stream had served to subdue, somewhat, his desire, before they completed the trek.
Now that he was where he wanted to be, he forced himself to slow down and fold his body down over Gimli's broad back. His hair fell over Gimli's face.
Gimli could smell the fresh water on Legolas's hair and skin when he took a deep breath. "Took your time getting to me, lad?" He would have preferred Legolas sooner and dirtier.
"On the contrary," Legolas panted. "Arod refused to go another step without rest. It was infuriating." He swivelled his hips. "I needed the stream to keep me from going mad."
Gimli snorted. "Impatient, self-indulgent Elves!"
Legolas rose up again and slammed his hips forward.
"Half the disasters of Middle Earth have resulted from Elvish desire!" Gimli grunted.
Wrong thing to say to a deprived, still-goose-bump-ridden, painfully erect Elf.
Of course, Gimli had said it on purpose.
"For the love of…! Mahal, lad!… If you could just…"
Legolas did not know what to do to make it any better for either of them. He'd lost the ability to reason somewhere around the time Gimli had tugged his hand, led him to this secluded chamber deep in the heart of the Glittering Caves, and dropped his trousers to the floor.
"Take me," Gimli had said without further ado.
Gimli was a wise Dwarf. He knew what Legolas needed.
Gimli gave up trying to communicate what he needed. He would get it soon enough. Legolas had an excellent rate of recovery, and even if he had ridden non-stop for a few days, he wasn't about to nod off after the deed. What mattered was the termination of this desperate rutting. It was quite enjoyable and, though Gimli had been given no warning at all that it was about to occur until Legolas arrived at the caves not an hour before, it would likely lead to his own satisfaction, but willingness was not the issue. He had simply not been readied to be ridden at such a furious pace. Dwarves are tough, but no one is that tough, not in the nether parts.
Gimli arched his back. Legolas rammed into him again and again. Gimli shifted all his weight onto one hand, shoved the other hand between his legs, past his quite erect cock and hairy sac, to brush his fingers over hard, hairless testicles…
"Ai! Gimli!"
He stroked again. "Give me…." he growled.
Legolas gave, with a pained cry and what felt to Gimli like a spasm of relief.
Slender pale arms wound around Gimli's chest. "Oh, you cannot understand the need. It was uncontrollable."
Gimli had the good sense not to chuckle. "Oh, I think I can remember a certain cave…"
"That was the mountain egging us on. This is different."
"And I recall a certain spa with special qualities." He breathed deeply again. "Just where was that spring you bathed in?" It had originated in a mountain, that was certain. Although Gimli could detect no aphrodisiacal qualities he knew of, one could never tell what would turn an Elf from placid to randy in the blink of an eye.
"I assure you, the stream was meant to temper, not to enflame."
Well, if that had been tempered, Gimli was not sure he could survive enflamed.
"I've suffered from it since the day I arrived in Ithilien."
Gimli was not offended. He knew Legolas referred to the infuriating inability to quench his desire, and not the desire itself.
He would have to think of some way to lessen the pain of separation. He did not want Legolas to suffer from anything, even if it did result in a fucking so intense his long Dwarven fuse had flared in almost record time, and he had come close to exploding like the outer wall of the Hornburg before he'd even had time to remove his shirt.
For a start, Gimli removed his shirt. It wasn't easy with Legolas draped over his back like that, but he wriggled out of it.
By the time he got it off, Legolas was hard again, still inside him. Insatiable Elf!
"Have you been working… a lot?" Legolas whispered in his ear.
Gimli tensed the muscles of his upper back.
Legolas purred.
"You were not the only one to experience desire," Gimli confessed. "I have taken to working long hours of hard labour to relieve the strain."
"My clever Dwarf," Legolas said as he rubbed his chest over Gimli's solid back. "I never would have thought of that. I have only been relieving myself with my hand.
Gimli tensed his back again.
"Every morning," Legolas whispered.
Gimli tensed his shoulders, too.
"And every night."
And his arms.
"And sometimes at midday…"
All the way to the tips of his fingers.
"Gimli…"
Gimli groaned.
Legolas planted his hands on Gimli's rippling shoulders. "Oh, hard labour suits you, my love!" Slim fingers pressed into meaty flesh. Legolas pushed himself up again and slid out of Gimli.
"Oh!" Gimli cried.
"My apologies," Legolas said. "That was selfish of me to take my pleasure from you so coarsely."
Gimli rolled over so that Legolas straddled his thighs.
Legolas gasped and reached down to touch a bulging bicep. "More than selfish of me. It was so very stupid…"
"Nonsense. I did not find it stupid at all. I found it rather bracing, and an excellent prelude to a long night."
"But how could I have missed this?"
Gimli shuddered from head to foot when Legolas ran his fingers through beard and chest hair to stoke from collarbone down to stomach, over bulges of hard muscle and…
"Have you been eating enough?" Legolas asked, fingers stilled an inch too far up Gimli's torso.
Gimli grunted and bucked his hips. This was no time to stop!
"You have lost weight," Legolas said.
"Nonsense. I've weighed the same for fifty years."
"You have not been eating enough."
"I've been eating like… like a Dwarf."
"But you are so much more… or less…" Legolas said. Worried.
That was true. Gimli was both. A little bit harder. A little bit leaner. Even more textured.
"You don't like it?" he asked. He could eat more, if Legolas required it.
Legolas bit his lip. Uncertain.
"This is how I am," Gimli said. "How Dwarves are."
"I think I know how Dwarves look by now, Gimli," Legolas scolded.
"Not a working Dwarf."
"You were working in Minas Tirith."
"Barely. There were a lot of meetings. A lot of banquets." A lot of ale. Gondorian brew was good, tasty, not as dark as Dwarven ale but rich all the same. "I indulged a fair bit back then. It puts a little padding on even the most vigorous Dwarf."
"But since then…" Legolas ran his fingers up and tried, could almost, not quite, trace ribs, or maybe that was another ridge of muscle. Hard to tell.
"That's what luxury does, lad! Travelling with you, always with good food, plenty of rest, lots of sex. I've been living the life that turns a hearty, strong Dwarf to mush."
Legolas's fingers stilled. "I turn you," he said quietly, "mushy?"
"Not mush." Mahal, no - the exact opposite! "I meant that I've been living a very luxurious life. Most luxurious." He sat up and pulled Legolas toward him. The scrape of his leg hair on the smooth underside of Legolas's thighs. The skitter of Legolas's cock against his. The warm marble of Legolas's shoulder against his cheek. Gimli spread his hands, one against a shoulder blade, the other around a slender hip.
Luxury.
"There is nothing but work without you," he said.
"But you said you might tap your hammer but once a day in to perfect these caves," Legolas remembered.
"Aye, lad, but that's work for Dwarves with more patience than I. I gave it a go, but whenever I tried to contemplate the curves of the rock, my mind… wandered."
There was a resemblance. Legolas's skin did not glitter in the manner of the cave walls, but it did glow. And Legolas's shape was less abrupt than some of the cave's outcroppings, but… but almost any curve reminded Gimli of Legolas when they were apart.
Now that they were together again, he knew that none other could compare.
Legolas shimmied his hips and settled his weight on Gimli's thighs so that his balls nestled more comfortably between them.
"Truth is," Gimli went on, "I haven't been working much in the caves, Legolas. I've been outside helping to build a new inner wall of the Hornburg."
"Mmm," Legolas replied.
"And the new south tower. Bigger than the existing one. Great big new lookout tower. Carrying giant blocks up the stairs and heaving them around. Keeps my body occupied, my mind on task."
Legolas snuggled yet closer and Gimli's cock pressed against hard, smooth stomach.
"Tower keeps growing bigger and bigger," Gimli growled.
"Bigger," Legolas cooed.
"The Rohirrim are very impressed."
"I bet they are."
Gimli flexed his arms, just enough to make Legolas moan.
Oh. Gimli's cock. That was the same as the last time Legolas had seen it. Felt it. Magnificent. Legolas could ignore everything else and concentrate on that. Gimli would enjoy it. But it would be the same thing Legolas had done earlier, in reverse, but amounting to the same thing. Centring on the cock, ignoring the whole person, frantic, frenzied, fucking and rutting and ramming.
Gimli didn't need that. He was a Dwarf. Slower and steadier, stronger than Legolas. Stronger, with slabs of thick hard muscle, and ridges that stood out in sharp relief, powerful. Brawny. Forceful. More sensual. All those textures…
"Legolas!"
Legolas's eyes jerked and met Gimli's.
"Take a breath, lad!"
Had Legolas not been breathing?
Oh, so he had not.
He breathed the air of the Glittering Caves. One would expect a cave to be stuffy or dank, but the air sparkled the way the walls did. He could smell himself, earthy and sex-drenched. He could smell Gimli. Sweat of hard labour. Warm scent of this skin, so rich and smooth. His sex, a smell that made Legolas's mouth water. And the scent of Gimli, the deepest scent of Gimli, coming from Legolas's cock…
Legolas groaned.
Gimli smirked. "That's better. I like it when your eyes glaze over like that."
Legolas ran his hands over biceps that bulged enough to almost distort the runic markings tattooed around them. He hated to think of Gimli pushing himself because he was suffering for Legolas, but the muscles were spectacular.
Gimli fumbled with the tie that held his beard in a neat, work-like braid. He let the scrap of leather fall, and was careful to brush the soft hair across Legolas's chest as much as possible as he untwisted the strands.
Legolas writhed.
The end of the beard brushed Legolas's stomach. Near his cock.
"Oh, Gimli, my hand is a poor substitute."
Gimli avoided Legolas's sticky cock and concentrated on the hairless chest. He rubbed his beard over it, teasingly, temptingly. The squirms of the Elf made him ache in the best possible fashion, for he knew that after enough squirming…
Legolas rose up until Gimli was eyeing his flat navel. The blunt crown of Gimli's cock rubbed against a tight, hot…
No! Gimli could take Legolas with little warning, but Legolas… Gimli would not allow it. He lifted the Elf easily and set him on his hands and knees. No resistance. Legolas must have anticipated that reaction. Or planned it.
Legolas arched his chest down to the sandy floor of the cave, offering himself to Gimli.
Definitely planned it.
Gimli would not ordinarily appreciate such manipulative tactics, but there was nothing ordinary about Legolas under the most mundane of circumstances, and in the middle of the Glittering Caves while the both of them were naked was extraordinary. He had to admire the precision of Legolas's manipulation.
And Legolas had to admire the precision of Gimli's tongue.
No hesitation, no distractions, no side trips to lave swollen balls or savour smooth buttocks. Right for the target, pointed and direct. The softwiry brush of moustache over perineum. Long silky beard between thighs. Firm lips. Firmer tongue.
Legolas opened.
Gimli pursed his lips and felt him open. Not enough for Dwarven cock, but enough for a finger or two.
Legolas began to hum.
"Fucking me doesn’t satisfy you, does it?" Gimli observed as Legolas's ass clenched around his fingers. "You can always simulate that, if you use both hands and make a tunnel."
"Not." Legolas's hands sank into the sand, tight fists. "Not the same."
"True," Gimli twisted his fingers. "My ass is hotter than your hands."
"Tighter," Legolas groaned. "Better."
"Of course, but you can tighten your fist. Use warmed oil." Gimli licked around his fingers.
"Warmed oil," Legolas moaned.
"But you can't fuck yourself."
"I could."
"Not like I can."
Legolas made a sound like the roar of a waterfall.
Gimli slurped.
Legolas howled.
Gimli spat. It would have to do. He didn't have anything else handy.
"My tunic…"
Where had Legolas thrown his tunic? It draped over a rock to Gimli's left. From one side dangled a leather pouch. Inside the pouch, a cloth-wrapped cube.
"Culumalda root?"
"Aye. Just hold it in the palm of your hand.
Gimli broke off a chunk and held it in a clenched fist. In seconds, in palm was coated with a slippery gel. Marvellous stuff, culumalda root was. He coated his cock.
Legolas stiffened as Gimli pushed inside. He was well prepared, and culumalda root was the best lubricant know to Elfkind - rare too, as the tree must grow to a certain size before the root is large enough to produce the gel, and the trunks of felled trees were difficult to extract, not that an Elf would ever fell a tree for the sake of mere lubricant when there are so many other alternatives, never mind the time it had taken to boil it into the translucent paste from which he'd formed the block - but Elfkind was used to using it to ease the passage of Elf into Elf, not Dwarf into Elf.
"Ah! Gimli! Big tower! Hard work!" Legolas babbled.
The slide in was slow and even. There was no burn, thanks to the root paste, but the stretch… oh, the stretch. Legolas held still, felt Gimli's hair against his skin, balls against his balls.
"Nothing else will do," he sighed.
So true. As Gimli moved inside Legolas, Legolas knew which would always miss this when he could not have it, crave it when he knew it was most impossible, even though it was not something they did often. Long easy strokes. Harsh breath and hard hands, gentling as they reached beneath his belly to tease and trace. Teeth. Blunt fingernails. Tangled hair. Sinew. Skin.
"Give me," Legolas growled.
Gimli pushed into him and growled back.
Never tell a Dwarf what to do. He can keep it up all night long.
Just as Legolas had hoped.
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