|A Dessert For Glorfindel
Author: sylc PM
Bored at dinner in Rivendell, Glorfindel turns his attentions to sex and sweets. Contains slash.Rated: Fiction M - English - Humor/Romance - Glorfindel & Elrond - Words: 1,704 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 9 - Follows: 1 - Published: 03-08-07 - Status: Complete - id: 3430540
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Beta'd by Neoinean
The welcoming feast for the Wood-Elven diplomats was, as was usual with all of Rivendell's feasts, wonderful. But Glorfindel, who was seated beside Elrond at the head dais, was quickly becoming bored. He disliked the visitors, who reeked of ideas of decrepit antiquity, and he was dreading the next few months of their visit during which he would undoubtedly be forced to sit through laborious councils with them.
So no longer hungry and finding the conversation around him tiresome, Glorfindel leaned back in his chair and set about scrutinising and criticising each of the foreign diplomats at the table. He knew some of them; one had even been a former lover.
Or rather, he corrected himself, a one night stand. That diplomat met his eye and smiled smugly as if to say, "Yes, I am still the same attractive, delicious elf that you remember, but please observe the ring on my hand." Glorfindel nodded politely at him and moved on.
And on. And on. Oh, by Elbereth, had the wood-elves still not learnt how to eat with knife and fork? He stared at one of the diplomat's misplaced fingers in irritation before passing onto the next elf. And the next one. And the next...
Wait! Now that one was good-looking! Very handsome! Glorfindel regarded the handsome elf eating away with unusually neat, practiced strokes of his cutlery with interest. Open interest! Attractive face, slender body without being too bony, a youthful glow to his smooth skin, sparkling eyes, neat appearance... but rather quiet; the elf was not talking to any of his fellows, but perhaps that made the opportunity all the better.
Now, the servants started to bring out dessert. Glorfindel's brow rose as he observed the dessert dishes: cream, custard, sweet pastries, fruits, puddings, sticky tarts, pies, and cakes. As usual, Elrond had ordered far too much. Glorfindel looked sourly at Arwen, who was also at the table and already requesting a double serve of honey cake, and reminded himself to one day tell her that she ate too many sweets and was getting fat.
He turned his attention back to the attractive elf. Still oblivious to his watcher, the elf was now nabbing a custard pastry from a pile that had been placed in front of him. Glorfindel knew the pastry so well that he could already taste it in his mouth. He sighed mournfully; living in a place where your permanent private and public meal companion was the person who always set the menus made life very boring at the table, feast or no. Of course, he had the option of setting the menus himself, but he did not have the motivation to venture such a suggestion to Elrond.
He looked at the dessert dishes that had been set before him and, after a moment's hesitation between the pudding dish and the cake dish, reached out and selected a slice of caramel cake. As he did so, he gazed across at the attractive wood-elf, who was now attempting to eat the pastry without getting flaky crumbs all over his robes. Glorfindel inwardly smirked. Good luck to him! He watched as the elf started to bite away at the pastry, biting in neat delicate little nips; a style that was too careful and too laborious to be habitual.
Suddenly, he noticed a small drop of custard hanging off one end and gathering weight. That drop! Glorfindel's inward smirk began to manifest itself on his face as he observed the drop of custard amass more volume, hanging lower from the pastry until...
It dripped out of sight beneath the table: right into the other's lap. Glorfindel snorted softly when the elf, having evidently noticed something amiss, stopped eating, brought the partially eaten pastry away from his mouth, and looked down. Another small drop, unnoticed by the elf but not to his observer, rapidly formed in the previous one's wake. Perhaps, Glorfindel thought, he is squeezing the pastry too tightly.
At this point, the elf looked around nervously and Glorfindel averted his eyes and pretended to be listening to a discussion that was taking place to his left. When he looked back, the elf was licking his pink lips free of crumbs. Moments later, he was attempting to take another bite of the pastry when... WHOOPS!
"Oh, you should not have done that, Silly!" Glorfindel muttered under his breath when he saw the widened hole at the end of the pastry. A wrist had, perhaps accidentally, brushed against the second small drop, but though it had effectively smeared the second drop away, it had also removed some of the pastry around the hole away with it. Glorfindel watched more custard ooze out. He glanced at the other elf's face, but to his amusement, the other had not noticed what had transpired at the other end of his morsel of dessert. Glorfindel watched as the custard began to drip and disappear down to the other's lap. By Elbereth, he hoped that the elf had put a napkin down there!
"And that is where I will be if all goes well, tonight," he added softly, smirking when, for the second time that night, the elf stopped eating, looked down, and accidentally brushed the opening at the base of his pastry with his wrist. This time, when the pale wrist came away from the pastry, it was not clean, but smeared with a visible yellow streak.
The elf put his pastry down in frustration and instinctively moved his wrist to his mouth. Moments before licking off the custard however and much to Glorfindel's disappointment, the elf seemed to recall the feast and his etiquette. He aborted the move and instead, moved to retrieve his napkin. As he used the towel to wipe his wrist and dust pastry crumbs from his fingers, his eyes moved cautiously across the table; searching for voyeurs to his failure with a simple custard pastry.
And their eyes met. Glorfindel watched a pink tinge spread across the other's pale face and his smile widened. He observed the coating of pale powdery crumbs on the other one's lips. What a sensual sight; he wanted to kiss those powdered lips and taste custard in the other's mouth.
Presently, Glorfindel broke the eye-contact; he did not want to overly embarrass the elf and there would be plenty of time to fertilise their little relationship after the feast. He turned his attention back to the caramel cake on his plate and began to dissect it into icing, filling, and sponge.
Moments later, Elrond nudged him and made a subtle comment about the inappropriateness of playing with one's food at a feast. Irritated and still bored, Glorfindel deliberately set his attention to carving the cake into a little orc.
And, as was natural in the case of elves and orcs, he set about the task of dismembering it with deadly precision.
There went the orc's genitals.
Slice! Slice! Slice! Slice!
There went the two sets of fingers, the two sets of toes.
"Uh... Glorfindel, do you want some... ah... wine?"
Glorfindel shook his head at Elrond's soft question and his eyes narrowed when he heard the sound of wine being poured into his goblet. Elrond was such a mother! Would he attempt to make any other subtle comments? He was, at least, being quiet!
But Elrond did not make any other comments. Left to his own endeavours, Glorfindel continued to hack away and then play with his cake; by the time the feast was finished, the cake was neatly packed into two divisions: one was a doughy squashed ball of now airless sponge cake and the other was a yellow sugary ball of evaporated post-mush.
As was custom, Glorfindel rose with Elrond's family and followed them off the dais, through the doors, and through the passages of the house to the Hall of Fire. As was custom for Glorfindel, he only went half the distance; he moved out of the line of the crowd and into a little alcove of one of the passages. Then he turned around and watched and waited for the diplomats to pass him.
One, two, three... that one had a handsome little bottom... four, five... there! Glorfindel caught the elf's eye and, with a smile, indicated for him to come over and join him. As the elf trotted up, a modest blush on his porcelain cheeks, Glorfindel was pleased to notice that his chosen one had a very perky little rear. Oh yes! Oh very well done, Glorfindel!
When the other drew alongside him, Glorfindel nodded at the crowd, indicating that they were to wait until it had passed. The elf glanced at the crowd and then, still smiling, leaned back against the wall of the alcove.
As soon as the noise of the crowd had faded to what Glorfindel knew from times before was a safe distance, he turned and openly scrutinised the other elf, ignoring the other's deepening blush of discomfiture.
Pretty face, pretty torso, pretty legs, pretty bottom... On the whole, a very delicious meal to take to bed with him. But the proof of the caramel cake, or perhaps custard pastry, was in the taste. He leaned over the elf and bent his head to kiss and lick at the other's lips. Ah, but here was a flavour unique to Elrond's menus! Then, when the other did not protest, he pulled out of the kiss and reached down to feel for the firmness in the dessert. Ah, but here was a shape that was unseen on Elrond's tables! The other elf wrapped his arms around him and nuzzled against his neck. Ah, but here was a thrill that none of Elrond's desserts could rouse in him!
He sighed happily. Ah, but here was a dessert that he much desired to sample.
And sample he would! Confident of the other's consent, he took the other's hand and hauled his unresisting dish off to bed.