keelywolfe

My, my. My friends have dirty little minds and they want the LOTR guys to have dirty little mouths.

So let's try it. I usually don't use some words when writing LOTR fic, but I gave it a shot this time. Let's see if it worked, shall we? I know I promised Boromir, but Gimli insisted on going first.

Pipe Weed
by keely
Legolas/Gimli
NC-17

Disclaimers: All characters within are owned by the Tolkien estate.

~~*~~

The soft curls of pipe smoke were easily visible against the dark backdrop of the night sky, and Gimli squinted up at them, entertaining himself with fanciful thoughts of creatures shaped into smoke. No artist was he, unlike Gandalf, but his imagination served him well enough.

The Elf was seated not far from him, crouched atop one of the smooth boulders that lined their camp as he scanned the forest with bright eyes. Gimli drew in another mouthful of smoke, savoring the rich taste for as long as he could before exhaling it into the night air. Pipe weed was very much a luxury and he would appreciate each breath until their supply was finally exhausted.

A soft breeze carried the billow towards the Elf, and he watched as Legolas inhaled, his nostrils flaring delicately as he scented it. He had grudgingly offered his pipe to the Elf a few nights ago, thinking it only courtesy, and had been rebuffed, though Legolas had confessed to trying it before and not finding it to his liking. He did admit that though he did not care for the flavor, he found the scent compelling, which would explain his nearness whenever Gimli smoked.

Across from them, past the sleeping shapes of the Hobbits and Gandalf, he could see the dim outlines of Boromir and Aragorn moving around. He thought perhaps Aragorn was dressing the wound on Boromir's hand, received earlier that day. The Man had tried to conceal it from them, in some foolish bit of pride, but he could not hide the scent of blood from the Elf. Surely Aragorn would insist on seeing it despite any protests, though Gimli wondered wryly why Boromir would resist when any fool could see how he looked at the other Man.

Or perhaps that was his reason for resisting.

Shaking away the thought, Gimli looked instead at his companion, who was reclining lazily against the boulder as though it were a bed of feathers and satin.

"Are you sure you will not have any, Elf?" he asked gruffly, again offering his pipe. Legolas had taken off his boots and Gimli noted his feet were as shapely and smooth as the rest of him. "Perhaps it will put some hair on the naked skin that you call a chest!"

Legolas laughed softly and rubbed his foot against the boulder as though feeling for something. He gestured at his chest, still hidden beneath his tunics. "I assure you that this field is fallow and shall not grow, no matter what seed you spread over it."

Though he tried to resist it, the Elf's words brought an image to his mind that would not be dismissed. Days of travel had forced a certain familiarity between them until it no longer had to be forced and to his shame Gimli had found himself seeking the Elf's company. He would have guessed he would dislike any Elf he might meet but Legolas had proved to be strong and loyal, and the brilliance of his smile would have lit a torch. They were slowly becoming friends, and for that he tried not to think of the seed he would have liked to spread over that 'fallow field', to glisten on the Elf's delicate face and in the moonlight he would shine like the gem that he was.

To his surprise, the moment that guilty thought appeared in his mind something in the Elf's eyes changed, and the curve of his lips shifted into something closer to a smirk. "Indeed?" he asked softly, raising a brow at the dwarf.

Flustered, Gimli tapped out his pipe on the side of the boulder and looked away from those knowing eyes. It was a poor enough thing to seek an Elf's company without thoughts such as these to torment him.

To his shock, the Elf slithered across the rock with a movement more appropriate to a beast than a creature that walked on two legs. He settled himself in front of Gimli, batting away the Dwarf's protesting hands like he might an annoying insect, and nuzzled softly at the front of his trousers.

"Do you invade my thoughts then?" Gimli gasped, equal parts annoyed and aroused, for how could he remain unmoved with a creature such as this kneeling before him?

"I am no mind reader. One would not have to be to see that thought in your mind."

Legolas plucked open the fastenings of Gimli's trousers, pushing through the opening to wrap slender fingers around his shaft and he could not help but groan and arch into that touch. It ended far too quickly, only a few teasing strokes before Legolas pulled away and Gimli would have snarled bitter words at him, called him the pasty-faced cockteasing cunt that he was if he had not lowered his head, shoving Gimli to lean backwards so he could bury his face into the Dwarf's lap.

The Elf's mouth was hotter than any forge, with a wickedly clever tongue to circle and tease at the head of Gimli's cock. He did not flinch from the first tentative thrust of Gimli's hips and it took no encouragement for the Dwarf to fill his hands with the cool silk of Legolas' hair and fuck that eager, too-hot mouth, and did all Dwarves know of the sluttish nature of Elves then surely there would never have been distance between them.

Legolas hummed softly, contentedly, as Gimli forced himself deeper into that sweet heat and he groaned at the vibration, hunching upward frantically, brutally, trying to wrench another sound from the Elf, even of protest, and yet none were forthcoming. It mattered not; the flaring sparks of pleasure in his balls were about to ignite, he could feel it, and at the last possible moment Gimli wrenched the Elf upward by his hair, watching through narrowed eyes the soft spatter of glistening droplets on Legolas' rapt face. Eyes still closed, the Elf licked away a bead that had settled on his lower lip and made a sound of contentment.

He had been right; in the moonlight and against the skin of the Elf, the droplets were luminescent, sliding down Legolas's cheeks in delicate threads, and suddenly they seemed far too reminiscent of tears and Gimli tasted bitter guilt on the back of his tongue at how he had treated him.

Cupping the Elf's face in his hands, Gimli carefully began licking away each glistening trail until his own lips met the Elf's and they both ceased to care, falling back against the soft loam of the forest floor.

"The taste of pipe weed is much more enjoyable coming from your lips," Legolas gasped, running his tongue over Gimli's lips and drawing a chuckle from the Dwarf.

"Yes, I believe some things taste better on your skin as well," Gimli murmured, amused at the rush of color to the Elf's cheek as he lapped away a drying streak of his own seed from it. The feel of the Elf's lips caressing him in return was another luxury and, unlike the pipe weed, this held the promise of lasting for some time.

A soft sound carried on the wind towards them, something like a moan, and Gimli frowned to hear it, both of them pausing to listen. Another sound, certainly a moan this time and Gimli chuckled softly. It would seem he wasn't the only one who had gotten an unexpected gift this evening, and he wondered what the morning would bring. For the moment, he was going to worry only about the Elf in his lap, moving against him sinuously.

Let Aragorn fight his own battles this once.

finis