The Hands, The Hands

The Hands, The Hands
By Mieren

“Dratted elves,” Gimli son of Gloin muttered darkly as he stormed down the streets of Rivendell, still irritated that his presence was required in a city of elves, the one race of peoples in Middle Earth that his kind could not tolerate.

“Our eternal pardon if we’re failing to meet some expectation of yours,” a melodic voice came from his side. The dwarf looked up, shocked, to meet heated silver eyes surrounded by flowing raven tresses.

“If we have slighted you in some ma, pl, please tell us of it that we may correct our faults,” an identical voice came from his other side. Gimli realized with no small amount of shock that he was facing Elrond’s twin sons.

“We could make your stay much more pleasurable,” the first twin offered suggestively, eyes glittering in a way that made the shorter dwarf uncomfortable.

“What are you blasted elves on about?” Gimli bellowed, glaring daggers. He’d heard rumors that the twins were trouble, but no one was overly forthcoming on the particulars of their endeavors. He was so busy watching their disturbing gazes and analyzing their smooth words that he didn’t notices that he was being herded into the end of a relatively large building towards a set of connected rooms until he found himself eye to eye with a bedpost. He eyed the bedchambers suspiciously, for they were nowhere where he had been roomed for his stay in the city.

“We elves can be very hospitable,” the leading twin commented, distracting Gimli long enough for the other to shut and lock the door. The dwarf startled at the sound and pulled his ever-present ax from his back, brandishing the deadly blade with fearsome skill. The twins watched him, bemused.

“Whatever is the matter?”

“What are you infernal immortals up to?” he asked suspiciously.

“Whatever do you mean, master dwarf?” one twin asked, arching his eyebrow much like Elrond did in response of a particularly thick or pointless question.

Gimli was about to explode at the impertinent expression when slender arms slipped around him from behind. He reflexively shot back one elbow to knock off his attacker, though the ensnaring elf calmly shifted out of harm’s path, and in doing so, distracted the flabbergasted russet-haired dwarf long enough for the free twin to deprive him of his weapon. The offending ax was tossed casually to the side, though the twin was particularly careful to make sure it landed well out of reach should the dwarf truly lose his temper.

“You pointy-eared lunatics!” Gimli roared, struggling. “What are you doing?”

“We’d heard of the stamina of dwarves and sought to see it for ourselves,” one twin beside him murmured, snaking his arms around to tangle in the lacings of the dwarf’s breeches and ignoring his shirt altogether. If they had to run, they’d have a head start. While they had no doubt that Gimli would chase them shirtless down the streets, they knew that even a dwarf would hesitate to flash his rear in elfin society. Gimli swatted at them tersely.

“Remove your hands at once, you lanky long-haired perverts!”

“You have quite a tongue, master dwarf,” the twin before him laughed while he sputtered in outrage. “Perhaps you could share more of it with us?”

“Or would you care to experience our tongues instead?” the second chuckled, doing his best to hold Gimli down while his brother removed the obstructing garments.

“You can silence them if you wish to keep them!” Gimli growled. Neither abated in their efforts, divesting him of his pants and pulling his thick length free. They loosed lecherous grins as they fondled him.

“Methinks that he’s coming around to the liking of elfish delicacies,” one of the sable duo murmured, trying to engage his brother in a kiss. The scandalous act was enough to set off the already temperamental dwarf.

“Nobody tosses a dwarf!” he exploded, shoving off the identical pair. Both landed on their backsides, though the jarring shock of the impact did little to stifle their ardor. They barely managed to get up in time to keep him from reclaiming his ax and holding to his threat of dismembering them.

As a single unit, they tackled their stout prey, taking him to the ground. No where near as gentle as the elves they’d molested in the past, Gimli had no compunctions about flipping one over his head and rolling the other onto his stomach, wrenching his wrists behind his back to hold him motionless. Not to be stilled, the pinned elf shoved backwards towards his captor in an attempt to grind against him. Gimli growled and transferred both of the captive wrists to one of his hands, using his freed one to yank the twin’s already loose leggings to his knees. He pressed the head of his erection against the firm globes he’d uncovered.

“Is this what you want, elf?” he growled, staying still. He was only trying to startle them into desisting. The knowledge that he held one of Elrond’s sons stayed his hips. If either of them raised a cry of alarm, it could mean his head on a pike, no matter the fact that they’d initiated the contact.

Face pressed into the floor, the twin’s answer was unintelligible. For the purpose of peace between their realms, he had no ce bce but to assume that the answer had been in the negative. Scowling, Gimli ted ted to move away, momentarily forgetting the other presence in the room. He remembered abruptly when hands shoved him from behind with enough force to cause him to stagger forward, seating his length deep within the pinned elf. Stunned, Gimli immediately tried to pull out but was stalled by a set of arms wrapping around him, effectively holding him in place. His inanimate state lasted only until he felt an erection pressing to his backside, at which point he surged to life and attempted to throw off the newest addition to the pile.

“Quit trying my patience and wait your turn!” Gimli roared, shoving the twin behind him away. He blinked in shock, not having intended the second half of the sentence. A snigger emanated from beneath him. The pushed away twin, after regag hig his balance, merely leaned back on one elbow to watch, stroking himself idly as he contented himself to obey the accidental order.

Not sure what to do, Gimli paused, resuming motion only when the body beneath him writhed in entreaty and started awkwardly thrusting. The difference in their heights was suddenly vital to that position. Lying down fully, the twin was well beneath him. On his knees, he was still slightly too short for Gimli standing at his full height but much too tall for the dwarf if he was on his knees as well. Placing both hands on the hips before him, Gimli dropped to his knees, forcing the elf knight to bow his legs outwards in the splits. The positioning effectively solved the difference in their height while constraining the twin to immobility.

When Gimli made no move to stroke his elf lover’s straining erection, the twin shifted to rest his entire weight on one arm and curled the other back to pump himself. Before long, he shuddered and came about his fingers, tightening around Gimli’s shaft. Gritting his teeth, the dwarf forbade himself to follow, stubbornly holding onto his erection so he could prove the merits of his race.

Unexpectedly, the elf knight he had just conquered rounded on him before he could do more than pull out, sucking his still turgid length into his eager mouth. His twin, who had been idly watching until then, quickly moved behind his kneeling form and speared his brother with one sharp thrust. Gimli goggled at their sheer perversity.

Already on edge from watching the previous pairing of his brother and the stout dwarf, the newest entry didn’t last long, coming with a hissed breath. His ejaculate hit his twin’s already sensitive prostate, causing him to groan. Scrunching his eyes shut, Gimli followed, the vibrations finally sending him over the edge. Even after swallowing vigorously, the suckling twin still lapped happily at his softening length, seeming to enjoy himself immensely.

“Are you up for another round, master dwarf?” the topping twin asked a bit breathlessly, eyes gleaming. “I’m eager to try ‘Dwarf on the Rocks’ first hand.”

Gimli’s eyes went wide and he jerked back, tucking his length back into his breeches as he scrambled for the door. All the while, he was muttering to himself over what was wrong with Elrond’s sons. Soft chuckles followed his exit.

Just outside their door, he nearly collided with one of the objects of his ire. Elrond. The elf lord gave him an apologetic look.

“Not one word, elf,” Gimli growled in warning, shoving past him.

Elrond merely nodded acquiescence. His sons had claimed another victim.

End.
There you have it. ‘Dwarf on the Rocks’ can even frighten the dwarves. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Someday, I may get around to describing what it is, but for now, I’ll make you wonder until I get enough reviews to properly stoke my perversity. R&R!