Knocking At Heaven's Door

Title: Knocking At Heaven's Door
Author: Emmess
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Everything I can think of without being overly gross and offensive.
Pairings: Um, yeah…everybody.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Tolkien, and really, not much of anything else.
Summery: Ever wonder what happens to fanfic writers after they die? Would heaven be heaven without Elves and sex? Um…no. No, it wouldn't.

Chapter 11

The Incredible, Edible Erestor

I awoke just as the sun was beginning to set, its orange and red glow pouring through the window, making me truly feel like Peter the Pumpkin Eater's wife living in her Pumpkin Shell, since now the walls glowed orange as well as the bedspread and the rug.

Sitting up, stretching, then standing, I walked into the bath noticing happily that there was a walk-in shower as well as tub. I showered quickly, since Erestor seemed to be the kind of Elf who would not be late for an appointment. If he said he'd be there at sundown, then I had better be ready before the last beam of light dipped below the horizon.

Sure enough, no sooner had I finished brushing my hair as the last of the orange rays of light faded that there came a knock at the door.

"Come in!" I called, taking a last look in the bathroom mirror. Well, at least I didn't have to worry about dressing for dinner…that saved a huge amount of time.

I walked out of the bathroom to find Erestor waiting, a bouquet of lovely flowers in his hand. He smiled, walking toward me. Dipping his head he planted a sweet kiss on my cheek. I smiled in return, thinking what a nice change being with him was going to be, considering every experience with every other Elf I'd met so far had been a kind of "slam bam, thank you ma'am" type of encounter.

"You look lovely tonight," he said, his voice as smooth as silk.

"I had hoped you'd like it," I quipped, "considering it's the only birthday suit I own."

He laughed a throaty, husky laugh that warmed me, even though there was a night chill coming in through the open window.

I thanked him, and put the flowers he handed me in a vase near the bed, after filling it with water from the bathroom. He gallantly offered me his arm, leading me out of the bedroom.

"Did you rest well?" he asked, as we walked down the hall.

"Yes, very," I answered, "Did you manage to rest?"

"Didn't need to…we're known for our stamina, you know."

"We, as in…Advisors?"

"Elves. And don't be impertinent," he said, though he chuckled. He led me to another room, opening the door and standing aside for me to enter first.

I was surprised when, since I had assumed we would be having dinner in some sort of communal hall, I stepped into what appeared to be his bedroom. His room was nothing like the throwback to the sixties mine was…his was a reflection of himself - all dark gleaming wood, intricate tapestries, and burnished brass accents.

Soft candlelight lit the room, and the sweet strains of violins filled the air. A small table, elegantly set for two, sat near the window. A centerpiece of roses in a crystal bowl from which three slender candles rose, separated the two settings. Chilling nearby in a freestanding ice bucket was a bottle of what appeared to be champagne.

I turned to him as he closed the door behind us, raising an eyebrow.

"What did I tell you at the welcoming dinner?" he asked, cupping my face with his hand. "I told you that when it was my turn to seduce you, I would do it with flowers…candlelight…fine wine…and music…" His head dipped lower and lower with each word until the last syllable he uttered was muffled as his lips softly touched mine.

I was completely lost, right then and there. He could have thrown me over that elegantly set table for two and bounced the hell out me without so much as a by-your-leave, and I wouldn't have tried to stop him. Instead, he backed off, taking my hand and leading me to the table. Holding my chair for me, he made sure I was comfortable before seating himself.

Picking up a small silver bell, he jingled it once before replacing it on the damask tablecloth. Within moments a servant entered the room bearing a large tray laden with dishes. As soon as he had served us, the servant bowed deeply and left, the door swinging shut soundlessly behind him.

Deftly, Erestor popped the cork on the bottle, pouring us each a glass of champagne. He raised his glass to me, toasting me and welcoming me to Rivendell. I tell you, he was literally dripping in charm, and it was all I could do to keep from sweeping the table clear of the dishes and boinking him right on the spot.

Picking his napkin up from the table and laying it across his lap, Erestor smiled a knowing half smile, and I realized he'd just read my thoughts. "All things in good time, my dear," he whispered, sipping his champagne.

I couldn't help but notice that something was pitching quite a tent in his napkin.

Dinner was delicious, and included many of my favorites - Erestor had certainly done his homework. Escargots en cercueils, followed by a lovely coq au vin accompanied by asperges a la vinaigrette, and topped off by a simply decadent chocolate soufflé. French food has always been my weakness.

Watching Erestor eat was an erotic experience in and of itself. Each forkful was lifted to his full lips, the tip of his pink tongue peeking out before his mouth would open wide enough to admit the fork. It would slide out a moment later, clean, and more often than not, that same pink tongue would return to lick at his bottom lip.

It was a wonder I that I remembered to feed myself.

All throughout dinner, Erestor was a delightful host, keeping our glasses full, and the topics of conversation light, often making me laugh with his dry wit.

"There's something I'm dying to ask you about, Erestor…" I began a bit hesitantly, not sure if it was an appropriate topic to broach over dinner, but not being able to help myself.

"What is it, mon cherie?" he asked, placing his fork down next to his plate.

Oh, lordy…if he was going to serve French food and start speaking French as well, I was definitely going to lose it.

"Well…the night before last Haldir and the twins mentioned something about Elrond that sort of stuck in my mind…and I was wondering whether or not it was true," I said, not quite able to meet his eyes.

"What is it? Tell me, and I will answer you truthfully," he encouraged me, smiling.

"They said that…Elrond…well, that he…"

"Come, come…spit it out, Milady," Erestor chuckled over my hesitancy to ask a simple question.

"They said that Elrond liked sheep."

"To eat?" he asked, taking a sip of champagne.

"To screw."

Erestor, in a move completely out of sorts with his usual sophisticated demeanor, sprayed the table and me with champagne.

"What?" he asked, beginning to laugh a robust uninhibited laugh, while trying to dab the champagne from the table and my chest with his napkin, apologizing profusely. "I am so terribly sorry," he said between snorts, "you just caught me by surprise…please forgive me…"

"That's quite alright, Erestor…so it isn't true?"

"Of course not! The thought of Elrond and a…a…snort…barnyard animal…" he couldn't finish, sitting back in his chair, laughing heartily.

I smiled, warmed by his laughter. I finished my champagne, setting the crystal glass down carefully, wiping the corners of my mouth daintily with my napkin.

Eventually, he got a hold of himself, settling down to sporadic giggles, and poured each of us another glass of champagne.
"I can understand something like that coming from the twins, but I never knew Haldir had such a twisted imagination!" he offered, wiping a tear from his eye. "I cannot wait to tell Glorfindel about this!" We chuckled for another few moments, before he put down his glass.

Standing, he walked over to me, offering me his hand to stand.
I did, and he swept me close to him, one hand still holding mine, the other wrapping around my waist. Slowly, he began to lead me around the room in small circles, dancing to the sweet strains of the soft music still playing. I lost myself in the black depths of his eyes, noticing that his long silken eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks. So lost was I that I barely realized when he began to kiss me. It would have been one of the most romantic moments of my life…er, death, if it hadn't been for his erection poking me in my stomach.

We had finally stopped dancing, instead just gently swaying in place to the music as we kissed, his arms wrapped firmly around me, mine around his neck. His lips left mine, and traveled to my ear where he whispered, "I am going to make love to you now, ma petite…" I felt his warm breath on my ear, then his moist mouth on my earlobe, and once again, I was lost.

My knees felt like water, unable to bear my weight. If it hadn't been for his strong arms around me, I would probably have slid to the floor in a puddle. He had no intention of allowing me to liquefy, instead picking me up and carrying me to his bed.

He crawled gracefully over me, supported by his elbows, his mouth finding mine again, harder now, more passionately, his tongue slipping between my lips to taste me.

I instantly twisted my fingers through his long, thick, raven mane, pressing him down further on me, eager to feel his skin next to mine.

It may have been moments, or it may have been hours that we stayed that way, linked by our dancing tongues, before he broke away, his lips working their way down the side of my face to my neck. His hair fell across my chest as he suckled gently on the flesh of my throat, both warming and tickling me.

Lower still he went, kissing and licking, until his lips found purchase at my breast. Now he leaned on one arm while the clever slender fingers of his other hand found work to do. Sliding over the skin of my breast, kneading gently, teasing the nipple with his palm, his lips still toyed with its twin, rolling it, sucking it gently, flicking it lightly, and driving me beyond all reason.

I writhed beneath his ministrations, every moment an agony of desire to be filled by him. He chuckled against my breast, amused by my antics to try to press myself closer to him. His response was to leave my breast, and head south of the equator.

Within moments, his tongue hit paydirt, judging from the way my back arched up off the mattress. I wrapped my legs around his neck, and quite frankly, I don't know how he managed to breathe for the next ten minutes.

Finally, just as it seemed I was going to completely lose my mind, he reared between my legs, majestic, a hunger in his eyes that was so intense it would have frightened me if I had been coherent. My body trembled violently as he eased himself into me, his own eyes closing, a smile on his lips.

He struck a rhythm that soon had me squirming again, clawing at his arms in a frenzy. Faster he pumped, faster I writhed and bucked, until an orgasm exploded so fiercely within me that for those few moments nothing existed in the universe except for him, me, and that incredible, wonderful rush.

Collapsing on top of me, his head nestled between my breasts, my hand absently stroking his thick ebony locks, I realized that he had reached his release as I was lost in my own. I had missed seeing it, and that disappointed me a little.

"Well," he panted, "we can't have that, can we? No disappointment is allowed in heaven…" He lifted his head to look into my eyes, and I gulped at what I saw flickering in their dark depths. "Perhaps, this time, you might wish to include someone else in our play? Glorfindel perhaps?" he asked. He didn't need to read my mind to know my answer.