When Muses Attack!

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“Where is my picture?” He demanded after one particularly grueling writing session at the beginning of our – uhm – ordeal? That’s the right word to me!

“I don’t need a picture of you – I have the real thing. Haunting me. Constantly,” I say ruefully. “Like now.”

“Perhaps you would like me to go away?” He pouts. “You have a picture of Legolas up. Why not me? I think I should go away.”

“Fine. Whatever. Get lost,” I tell him. I’ll enjoy the peace and quiet.

He does. For almost a week he is gone. Vanished. There is peace around the place. But then I get nervous. I don’t know how this thing ends. Hell, I don’t even know what happens after chapter 6 and I’ve already published 4! What the fuck am I gonna do?

“Ok, you can come back now,” I tell him. He ignores me. I get some reviews asking for more chapters. You all can be pretty insatiable. Almost as bad as he is! (And I mean that with the utmost respect and good humor!)

“See, they want you? Why don’t you come back and tell me the rest of it?” I ask.

“No, I don’t think I will,” he pouts.

“Why not? They like you. They want more of your wickedness. See?” I click on the reviews but he refuses to read.

“No. You can write it yourself. Just finish it. I don’t care anymore,” he says in a hurt voice.

I groan. “No, I can’t. And if I do I’ll make you so vile and hateful and evil that NO ONE will want you again! What do you think about that?” I growl at him.

“I think that people would hate you for being so mean to me,” comes his answer.

“HA! You ARE vile, you know that? First you torment me night and day so I write this then you get all mad because I won’t drop everything and write for you then you go off pouting because I have a picture of Legolas hanging here,” I point out.

“I am not vile,” he sniffs.

“Whatever. Those are the facts, deal. Are you going to help me or not?” I ask. He’s really starting to piss me off.

“When are you going to put my picture up?” he murmurs and then disappears.

“Oooooooohhhhh!” I growl. After a few days of searching, I find a few acceptable pictures of The Hateful One and print them out. I even put him as my computer wallpaper. The following day he’s back.

“Very nice,” he says proudly, his former slight completely forgotten. “Very nice indeed. Do you like the armor in that one?” He purrs.

“No. I like chain mail. I thought I had made that clear,” I answer.

He ignores me. “I like that armor. It’s so very sexy!” He proceeds to preen himself in front of the computer screen.

I roll my eyes. “Are you going to give me the rest of this now?” I ask. “Do you die or what?”

“I want sex. Lots of it. And it must be ‘hawt’ sex. None of that porn,” he sniffs.

“Didn’t you like ‘Fun with Elves’?” I demand.

He giggles. Yes, giggles. “Indeed, I did! Something like that would be nice. But not so much Legolas. This is about me now,” he says silkily. “This is my story.” As if I could forget!

“You know, if it weren’t for Legolas, there would BE no you in my life, you realize this, don’t you?” I remind him.

He draws himself up imperiously. “Do you want me to leave again?”

I bite back a laugh, gritting my teeth instead. “That won’t be necessary,” I smile.

“So, begin,” I say, fingers on the keys waiting.

He pulls up a chair and turns it around backwards so that his legs straddle the backrest and he folds his arms to rest on the back of it. It is very hard not to look at him in this pose. And he is posing. He always does. He wants to make sure that I get every supple movement of his graceful form committed to ‘paper’. The more hearts he can set aflutter the better he likes it. He can be downright insufferable at times.

“Yes, well,” he begins. I can tell he’s excited because his voice is no longer pouty, he’s now more purring and throaty. “I wanted to teach this to Legolas but that didn’t work out.”

“Why?”

“Don’t interrupt,” he frowns. “We’ll get to that later. Just start with the sex.”

Someone is obviously pretty horny and who am I to argue with that? Been there myself.

“OK. Let’s get on with it,” I sigh.

“Mmmm, yes, sex on my terms. I have both of them, yes?” He asks eagerly.

I shrug. “Like you said, it’s your story. It can work out however you want. If you want them both then have them both but I will need some motivation here. Unless, of course, you just want some more PWP and that would be a separate thing.”

“No, no. We’ve enough of that. Yes, I understand about the motivation. I’ll explain that later. I want them both. Yes. At the same time. And I want Legolas to know that she chooses me over him,” he grins.

“That won’t happen,” I say flatly. “She loves Legolas and hates you. There’d better be a damned good reason that she would choose you over Legolas.”

“She doesn’t HATE me,” he sulks. “She admitted it! If she hated me she would want me dead and she doesn’t.”

“OK. Maybe ‘hate’ is too strong of a word. But she doesn’t love you. She loves Legolas and would not choose you over him for anything. And she did tell you that herself. So you’d best be coming up with a good reason why,” I say.

“Because I’m teaching him the trick and it gets out of hand,” he says softly, almost like he’s remembering it. Maybe he is. What do I know?

I nod and start typing. “Yes, it gets out of hand. But why you? Why would she not throw herself on Legolas?”

He sighs sadly at me. “Wouldn’t you choose me over Legolas?” He asks dangerously.

I don’t know how stupid he thinks I am but I’m not about to answer that question.

“Let’s stick to the matter at hand, shall we? No need to drag me into this,” I tell him, changing the subject.

He swells up slightly and grins at me. He has chosen to take it as a compliment and I’m inclined to let him.

“She does at first. Be he is too selfish, only thinking of his pleasure, not hers,” he murmurs and reaches out to stroke my ponytail. “Why do you keep your hair up?” he asks.

“And what do you do?” I am determined to keep him on track.

A heavy sigh of regret escapes him but he puts his hand back on the chair. “I pleasure HER, of course!” He says as if it should be completely obvious to me.

Funny, I don’t see him being the unselfish type but it’s his story and if he wants to be generous with his skills then who am I to deny that?

“Ah, I see. And what does he do about this?” I wonder. Legolas isn’t going to like this one bit.

“What can he do?” Haldir smiles wickedly at me, his eyebrows rising suggestively. “She will have him well ‘in hand’ so to speak and he will be reluctant to stop her.”

I laugh at this. “OK. That works. What do you do?” I’m typing furiously as he talks, laying out the whole story. Once he gets going, he’s pretty hard to stop and my fingers are just going to town trying to keep up with him. A few times he stops and reads what I’ve written and tells me to change words. But he’ll go over it in detail later. The most important thing is he outlines everything now.

He is pleased – I can tell by the way he grows quiet and smiles wickedly at me as he continues to read what I’ve written.

Once he’s done he walks to the sliding glass door and stares out into the night. I run spell check, save the work and get up to replenish my supply of caffeine and water. I’m standing at the sink re-hydrating myself when he slithers in.

“That is very good. Very good indeed,” he grins and slides up to me so I can sense him. “You have a gift for this, you know.” He leans over me. I can feel his hard body next to mine and smell him. I should move away but I don’t think I will.

“It’s all you, sweetheart,” I reply. “All you. I have nothing to do with it. Just my fingers on the keys.” As much as he annoys me, I have to give him his due.

He purrs and presses closer to me. “Do you like it?” He asks.

“It’s good stuff, yeah,” I say. I set my glass down and turn to face him. He smiles down at me. He’s about 6’3” and maybe 190 lbs of solid muscle (inside he’s naught but piss and vinegar, of this I am certain) but his presence is very intense and you’d swear he was much bigger.

Then he leans over to whisper into my ear very seductively. And, trust me, he can be very seductive when he wants. And he wants to be now. “That’s not what I mean, Mel.”

He breathes in and runs his lips next to my ear causing me to twitch. I’m very ticklish and he knows this, periodically using it to his advantage.

“You know what I mean. Do you like it?” He twists my ponytail in his fingers. Fortunately for me, he has not quite figured out how to remove the elastics holding it in place.

“How could I not like it?” I smile up at him. “I’d have to be comatose not to!”

“What is ‘comatose’?” He asks, pressing his lower body closer to mine. I can feel his hardness against my pelvis and try to ignore it.

“Dead, sort of,” I answer. I could easily walk away from him but I don’t. I rather like being in his presence sometimes. He smells very good and he is very warm. It’s the middle of winter here and freezing so if he wants to stay close and keep me warm then I’m not going to push him away. He is an excellent heat source.

“Mmmm, not dead. Oh, no,” he purrs. This is getting a bit out of hand.

I look at the clock. It’s past 11pm. I back away from him and leave the kitchen. “Listen, I’ve got to get some sleep. I’ve got a long day tomorrow – I have to make all these formulas I finally managed to write – despite your best efforts,” I say as I turn off the light. I can still see him. His skin and hair glow eerily and those steely gray eyes glitter in the dark.

Sometimes he comes to bed with me and sometimes he doesn’t. Tonight he leaves me alone. I am not so lucky later that week. He has figured out my work schedule and knows when he can keep me awake and when he must let me sleep. I curse his intelligence.

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