Woof!
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,587
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,587
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Woof!
Title: Woof!
Author: sylc
Summary: Glorfindel wakes up in the night to something licking him in a very naughty place. It’s his lover Lindir, right? Right?
Characters/Pairings: Glorfindel/Lindir, Glorfindel/?
Rating: PG17 (for series)
Warnings: Bestiality, Slash
Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I make money from this.
In the fog of his fatigued mind, he had assumed that the shifting of the mattress beneath him and of the sheets over him had been for an innocuous reason. Perhaps, he had thought, as he felt the shifting cease and heard the soft padding of feet across the bedroom floor towards the door, his lover, Lindir, had, on finding himself parched after their long endeavour in love-making some hours ago, risen to fetch himself a cup of water. Or perhaps the elf had decided to venture to the bathroom to start the onerous task of cleaning up, something for which neither of them had had the energy to spare when they had finally fallen – sated with the last of what had been many orgasms that night – back onto the bed for the last time.
But when, what felt like moments later, he suddenly felt the mattress and sheets shift again and this time, the movement come not from the other side of the bed, but instead from the end of his own side of the mattress, these naïve thoughts swiftly fled. He smiled tiredly as he felt the body edge up – slowly and deliberately – between his legs towards his groin, and obligingly shifted his legs apart to better accommodate his lover. Where by the Valar did Lindir find all his energy?
“It was folly of me to fall for you,” he muttered, his smile widening when he felt Lindir’s soft silken head nuzzle against his upper thigh in response. He spread his legs a little wider, bent them at the knee, and watched – through half-unfocused eyes – his lover’s slender body shift closer to its goal beneath the white sheets. “You are daft, you know that? How am I supposed to help patrol the borders when dawn arrives if you work my body harder at night than it works by day?”
Lindir snorted softly beneath the sheets and as the head rose over his unclad genitals; warm breath breezed over the flesh, which began to stiffen again in spite of Glorfindel’s doubts. He closed his eyes, already panting slightly, a smile on his face. He was incredulous at his lover’s patience poise. After a night like they had had? How could Lindir still deport himself in such a careful, stealthy manner?
As he felt his lover’s tongue suddenly lick – small and sharp – at the side of his organ, he hissed. Then, as he felt the tongue move upwards, rougher and more assured than he had ever felt before from a lover – a whimper escaped his throat. Elbereth! How could the elf do this?
The ministrations hastened in pace, but Lindir's precision did not falter. Glorfindel swore aloud, spreading his legs wider – feeling the muscles strain and stretch in his thighs, feeling them tremble with the intensity of the sensations wracking his body. He arched his back; thrust his head back into his pillow.
Suddenly, he was abandoned. The tongue disappeared and for a few moments, he lay there, swallowing, his chest heaving, his heart thumping so loudly that he was sure that it was audible in the room, his body sweating and clinging to the sheets. “Valar,” he gasped as he watched the shape of the head drop slightly beneath the sheets – deserting the column that now buttressed the damp sheets on its own – to busy itself at some unknown task at the mattress between his legs. “You are fey! Where did you learn that?”
Lindir ignored him, nuzzling now at the inside of his other thigh. A tongue gently lapped a cautious, inquisitive path upwards to where his sacs lay – vulnerable – at his crotch. Slowly, they drove a wet trail across the part of the skin that shielded first one testicle; then the other. Then the tongue returned to his swollen organ, to devote loving attention now to its tip and the burning, dew-like droplets that were beginning to seep from its slit. Glorfindel shivered. His legs trembled again.
And then, suddenly, when a spasm took his leg and he felt it nudge against the body between his legs, in the fog of his mind it suddenly occurred to him that something was wrong. He raised himself slightly on his elbows, frowning as he looked down at the shrouded body between his thighs.
Lindir had never looked so small.
Suddenly, realisation took him and as it did so and he comprehended its meaning, sleep fled before the face of his horror. Eyes wide, his arousal shrinking completely, he coiled his hand tightly into the sheets across his chest, and swept them from him. And with a dismayed cry, he threw himself backwards, back towards the head of the bed where he hugged his pillow to his chest and stared there, unseeing, at the creature lying in the centre of the bed and staring warily back at him.
There was a sudden patter of footsteps from beyond the open door of his bedroom and then Lindir ran into the room, dressed in his loincloth, a wash cloth in his hands, his face pale. “What is wrong?” Lindir asked as he came to the bed. “Why did you cry out?” He knelt on the side.
Glorfindel met his eyes and then silently turned his head – pointedly – to look at the dog.
The cooshie hound, bolstered by Lindir’s appearance, wagged its tail and woofed at them before proceeding to pant loudly, its nose and mouth covered with the strawberry sauce that had been left on the sheets and which had evidently attracted it.
“Get. The dog. Out of here,” Glorfindel said faintly.
“My love, I am so sorry. I accidentally left the door open,” Lindir said, as he rose from the bed and silently beckoned for the hound to follow him out of the bedroom. After he had shut the door on the animal, he turned back to look at him. “That must have been quite a shock, waking up with him there.”
Glorfindel nodded weakly, not about to confess the whole truth of what had happened between him and his own hound to his lover. “Just a little shock,” he said softly as he climbed slowly from the bed to make his way out of the bedroom to the bathroom. He cringed as he opened the door and was greeted by a loud and cheerful "woof". “Just a little shock.”
Author: sylc
Summary: Glorfindel wakes up in the night to something licking him in a very naughty place. It’s his lover Lindir, right? Right?
Characters/Pairings: Glorfindel/Lindir, Glorfindel/?
Rating: PG17 (for series)
Warnings: Bestiality, Slash
Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I make money from this.
In the fog of his fatigued mind, he had assumed that the shifting of the mattress beneath him and of the sheets over him had been for an innocuous reason. Perhaps, he had thought, as he felt the shifting cease and heard the soft padding of feet across the bedroom floor towards the door, his lover, Lindir, had, on finding himself parched after their long endeavour in love-making some hours ago, risen to fetch himself a cup of water. Or perhaps the elf had decided to venture to the bathroom to start the onerous task of cleaning up, something for which neither of them had had the energy to spare when they had finally fallen – sated with the last of what had been many orgasms that night – back onto the bed for the last time.
But when, what felt like moments later, he suddenly felt the mattress and sheets shift again and this time, the movement come not from the other side of the bed, but instead from the end of his own side of the mattress, these naïve thoughts swiftly fled. He smiled tiredly as he felt the body edge up – slowly and deliberately – between his legs towards his groin, and obligingly shifted his legs apart to better accommodate his lover. Where by the Valar did Lindir find all his energy?
“It was folly of me to fall for you,” he muttered, his smile widening when he felt Lindir’s soft silken head nuzzle against his upper thigh in response. He spread his legs a little wider, bent them at the knee, and watched – through half-unfocused eyes – his lover’s slender body shift closer to its goal beneath the white sheets. “You are daft, you know that? How am I supposed to help patrol the borders when dawn arrives if you work my body harder at night than it works by day?”
Lindir snorted softly beneath the sheets and as the head rose over his unclad genitals; warm breath breezed over the flesh, which began to stiffen again in spite of Glorfindel’s doubts. He closed his eyes, already panting slightly, a smile on his face. He was incredulous at his lover’s patience poise. After a night like they had had? How could Lindir still deport himself in such a careful, stealthy manner?
As he felt his lover’s tongue suddenly lick – small and sharp – at the side of his organ, he hissed. Then, as he felt the tongue move upwards, rougher and more assured than he had ever felt before from a lover – a whimper escaped his throat. Elbereth! How could the elf do this?
The ministrations hastened in pace, but Lindir's precision did not falter. Glorfindel swore aloud, spreading his legs wider – feeling the muscles strain and stretch in his thighs, feeling them tremble with the intensity of the sensations wracking his body. He arched his back; thrust his head back into his pillow.
Suddenly, he was abandoned. The tongue disappeared and for a few moments, he lay there, swallowing, his chest heaving, his heart thumping so loudly that he was sure that it was audible in the room, his body sweating and clinging to the sheets. “Valar,” he gasped as he watched the shape of the head drop slightly beneath the sheets – deserting the column that now buttressed the damp sheets on its own – to busy itself at some unknown task at the mattress between his legs. “You are fey! Where did you learn that?”
Lindir ignored him, nuzzling now at the inside of his other thigh. A tongue gently lapped a cautious, inquisitive path upwards to where his sacs lay – vulnerable – at his crotch. Slowly, they drove a wet trail across the part of the skin that shielded first one testicle; then the other. Then the tongue returned to his swollen organ, to devote loving attention now to its tip and the burning, dew-like droplets that were beginning to seep from its slit. Glorfindel shivered. His legs trembled again.
And then, suddenly, when a spasm took his leg and he felt it nudge against the body between his legs, in the fog of his mind it suddenly occurred to him that something was wrong. He raised himself slightly on his elbows, frowning as he looked down at the shrouded body between his thighs.
Lindir had never looked so small.
Suddenly, realisation took him and as it did so and he comprehended its meaning, sleep fled before the face of his horror. Eyes wide, his arousal shrinking completely, he coiled his hand tightly into the sheets across his chest, and swept them from him. And with a dismayed cry, he threw himself backwards, back towards the head of the bed where he hugged his pillow to his chest and stared there, unseeing, at the creature lying in the centre of the bed and staring warily back at him.
There was a sudden patter of footsteps from beyond the open door of his bedroom and then Lindir ran into the room, dressed in his loincloth, a wash cloth in his hands, his face pale. “What is wrong?” Lindir asked as he came to the bed. “Why did you cry out?” He knelt on the side.
Glorfindel met his eyes and then silently turned his head – pointedly – to look at the dog.
The cooshie hound, bolstered by Lindir’s appearance, wagged its tail and woofed at them before proceeding to pant loudly, its nose and mouth covered with the strawberry sauce that had been left on the sheets and which had evidently attracted it.
“Get. The dog. Out of here,” Glorfindel said faintly.
“My love, I am so sorry. I accidentally left the door open,” Lindir said, as he rose from the bed and silently beckoned for the hound to follow him out of the bedroom. After he had shut the door on the animal, he turned back to look at him. “That must have been quite a shock, waking up with him there.”
Glorfindel nodded weakly, not about to confess the whole truth of what had happened between him and his own hound to his lover. “Just a little shock,” he said softly as he climbed slowly from the bed to make his way out of the bedroom to the bathroom. He cringed as he opened the door and was greeted by a loud and cheerful "woof". “Just a little shock.”