(no subject)
I hope everybody who celebrate it had (or is still having) a very Merry Christmas, filled with love and happiness.
I thought I'd be able post the second part of First meeting (the nc-17 rated one:)) today, but I haven't finished it (too much smut, I guess). I'm not totally empty handed, though: my struggles with a recalcitrant pastry inspired me to write the following ficlet. I hope you'll enjoy it.:)
Title: Yule log
Pairing: Frodo/Sam
Rating: R
Word count: light, unlike my pastry; about 230
"Well, I'm afraid my Yule log will never see the light of day," Frodo panted, looking at the mess covering the kitchen table. Sam's hard thrusts had knocked down the bag of flour, and they were both dusted with white powder, along with the rest of the kitchen, it seemed. The imprint of Sam's fingers decorated the slab of butter, of which a substantial chunk was missing; it could be found, melted and spread over Sam's belly, Frodo's arse and both their cocks, and of course entirely unusable. The creamy puddle congealing on the floured table was edible, tasty even, as Sam would enthusiastically testify, but was nowhere to be found in Bilbo's recipe for his famous Yule log.
Sam wrapped his arms around Frodo's chest and kissed a bare shoulder -the other one was still covered with the remnants of Frodo's shirt.
"We could always start another one," he purred into Frodo's ear. "But I'd rather clean that mess; quickly, mind you, then clean ourselves; a bath sounds rather good right now, doesn't it?"
"It does," Frodo sighed luxuriously, closing his eyes and rubbing his buttered buttocks against Sam's crotch. "We need a good soaking, then a thorough washing of every nook and crannies. The Yule log can wait."
Sam smiled against Frodo's skin. He had the feeling the Yule log would have to wait a very long time, most likely until next Yule.
I thought I'd be able post the second part of First meeting (the nc-17 rated one:)) today, but I haven't finished it (too much smut, I guess). I'm not totally empty handed, though: my struggles with a recalcitrant pastry inspired me to write the following ficlet. I hope you'll enjoy it.:)
Title: Yule log
Pairing: Frodo/Sam
Rating: R
Word count: light, unlike my pastry; about 230
"Well, I'm afraid my Yule log will never see the light of day," Frodo panted, looking at the mess covering the kitchen table. Sam's hard thrusts had knocked down the bag of flour, and they were both dusted with white powder, along with the rest of the kitchen, it seemed. The imprint of Sam's fingers decorated the slab of butter, of which a substantial chunk was missing; it could be found, melted and spread over Sam's belly, Frodo's arse and both their cocks, and of course entirely unusable. The creamy puddle congealing on the floured table was edible, tasty even, as Sam would enthusiastically testify, but was nowhere to be found in Bilbo's recipe for his famous Yule log.
Sam wrapped his arms around Frodo's chest and kissed a bare shoulder -the other one was still covered with the remnants of Frodo's shirt.
"We could always start another one," he purred into Frodo's ear. "But I'd rather clean that mess; quickly, mind you, then clean ourselves; a bath sounds rather good right now, doesn't it?"
"It does," Frodo sighed luxuriously, closing his eyes and rubbing his buttered buttocks against Sam's crotch. "We need a good soaking, then a thorough washing of every nook and crannies. The Yule log can wait."
Sam smiled against Frodo's skin. He had the feeling the Yule log would have to wait a very long time, most likely until next Yule.