IM/EW + FPS/RPS by Elanor, Nefertiti
Summary: Ian and Elijah discuss some of the finer points of slash and find inspiration.
Categories: RPS, RPS > Elijah Wood/Ian McKellen, RPS > Ian McKellen/Elijah Wood Characters: Elijah Wood, Ian McKellen
Type: None
Warning: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes Word count: 2653 Read: 1268 Published: August 18, 2009 Updated: August 18, 2009
Story Notes:
We did not consult any of the authors whose stories we refer to before writing this story, though we thank them for the many hours of pleasurable reading they have given us. We did consult ourselves and agreed in good spirits to the mild jokes made against us herein. Any mistakes are wholly our own.

1. Chapter 1 by Elanor

Chapter 1 by Elanor
"Watcha doing?" Elijah came into the office, wearing a very baggy T shirt which he clung to in the face of all Ian's resistance and gnawing thoughtfully on a finger nail.

Ian started slightly and turned to him. "Oh, just surfing the Internet."

"I thought you were supposed to be updating your 'E-Post.' Falling a bit behind on that, aren't we? What will the fans think?"

"I'm afraid I got a trifle distracted. The fans are doing quite a bit of e-posting on their own."

Ian indicated the computer screen with a sweep of his arm. With a quirked eyebrow, Elijah slid onto the stool and leaned back against Ian's inviting warmth. "So what have you found?" he asked. "You been doing another vanity search? I've told you, dear, you're never going to beat my sites."

"Not in quantity maybe. The sites you are referring to, however, are nothing more that the ravings of love-struck lunatics, Elijah. At least the people who host sites dedicated to me show taste. And they can spell," Ian added the last thoughtfully. "Some of them have lots of pictures, too. Look at this sweet one. Me hugging you and you with your eyes languorously closed—just dying to go home and get me in bed, obviously."

"Obviously. Actually I probably was. I hate those things. That was the GQ one, wasn't it? Oh, yeah, it says so."

"Exactly. But this might amuse you even more."

Elijah skimmed the text on the screen. "So it's another of those endless Lord-of-the-Rings obsession sites. Hey, no, it looks like porn!"

"Please! Let's be kind and call it erotica. You know what slash is?"

"The lead singer with Guns N Roses. Ah! Okay enough with the tickling! Yeah, ' course I know what slash is. There's loads of Sam / Frodo stuff out there. According to the slashers, our two innocent hobbits were at it like rabbits pretty much every step of the way to Mordor. I notice all these stories use the movie rating system, G, PG, up to NC-17. I wonder how Jack Valenti feels about that." Elijah stared at the screen and then glanced back at Ian with a mischievous grin. "Looks like you've managed to locate a bit of Gandalf slash. Very rare, those. Too many people get—what do they call it?— squicked by the idea of an old wizard doing the nasty."

"Yes, sad, really. But, although I admit there has been in the past a deplorable lack of wizard slash, the situation is being rectified. Mostly by the good offices of one Nefertiti. She has written an epic series detailing the romance of Frodo and Gandalf—VERY much in the NC-17 category."

Elijah snorted. "Yeah? What about the size issue? I mean I guess Frodo is at the right height to suck Gandalf off but ... "

"Well," Ian said consulting the printed-out story, which Elijah noted with amusement already had several corners turned down, "she seems to have got round the problem rather ingeniously." He held out a page, tapping the relevant passage.

"Magic. Cool." Elijah scanned the rest of the passage with widening eyes. "Lusty little hobbit, isn't he? Whoa! And Gandalf is quite the sexy beast too!"

Ian coughed delicately. "Believe me, that particular liaison is nothing. I've been trying to count the number of sex scenes but lost track at fifteen. But it's not just Gandalf and Frodo. There's another lively story where our wizard initiates Legolas into male love. I've seen him paired with Aragorn, Elrond, Thranduil, Pippin, Bob—"

"Oh, come on! There's no Bob in LORD OF THE RINGS!"

"So you think! I keep telling you to read that book. There IS a character named Bob, and he shows Gandalf a VERY good time one evening—in this story, of course, not in the book. And there are wizard-slash stories with Bilbo, Boromir ... . With all that going on, I almost think that wizard slash will come into fashion."

"Good for our wizard!" Elijah grinned and shared a quick kiss with Ian. He returned to the computer screen's current site and clicked the "back" button. Another site that Ian had recently departed popped up. "So what's this? Not slash?"

"It's a different form of slash that usually has its own separate sites. It's called RPS."

"Role playing ... "

"Real Person Slash."

"Really? And there's stuff about us? Wicked!" Elijah's eyes lit up, and he scrolled through the day's messages. He frowned, and his mouth dropped open in exasperation. "Hey! This is all Vig / Orli! These guys know nothing. Seriously."

Ian raised a wry eyebrow. "It is unfortunate that very few appear to be aware of the true Orli liaison. I would have thought Sean Bean was just as arousing. But there are some that feature you or me. See, there's QUITE a charming tale that ends with me eating strawberries and cream off Karl Urban's—"

"Watch it." Elijah was scrolling through rapidly, checking through the humungous archive of the list. He suddenly glared and shouted. "I knew it!"

"What?" Ian asked, startled by this outbreak.

"I knew those gossipy e-mails on Data lounge would have an effect. Seen this? Two thousand odd Lijah / Dom stories. That is SO not natural."

Ian chuckled tolerantly. "Now, now, there were rumours that you and Dom were salting those postings on that site."

Elijah stared at him, drew a deep breath, then pressed his lips together and shook his head. Then a thought struck him, and his eyes opened wide. "Hey! Wasn't there something about this kind of thing in your E-Post a while back?."

"Yes. I really didn't know much about what she was talking about. I tried to be open and mildly approving but not encouraging. 'Nothing harmful' about it, I believe I said, and 'unobjectionable.' Hardly a ringing endorsement, but I imagine that they assumed I was giving them carte blanche."

Elijah smirked. "On the other hand, you don't exactly seem to be turning your face away in disgust now that you know just what they have you getting up to in cyberspace." He indicated the growing stack of print-outs.

"Yes, well, even so, I note there are very few Lij / Ian stories." He fetched up a sigh. "In fact, very few Ian stories, full stop."

Elijah grabbed his hand, kissed the palm before guiding it to rest against his own chest. "I still love you. If these people only knew how hot you are ... Besides, if you go and hide your dishiness under all Gandalf's stringy hair and grubby makeup, most of 'em will probably think that's what you really look like."

Ian was reading over his shoulder. The Brit suddenly nudged at Elijah, pushing him gently off the stool. Elijah immediately perched on Ian's knee, which was uncomfortable for them both. "Oh, fine! Just fine!" Ian was muttering.

"What?"

"Talk about adding insult ... Not only do I have to put up with very few Ian stories at all, but those there are insist on using descriptive phrases like 'the older man' and, wait for it, 'the old knight.' Usually I'm a kindly bystander or lonely-hearts advisor, looking on from the sidelines while you youngsters have all the fun. I think I shall post to the list disabusing them of their mistake and assuring them I am not ALL that old and quite virile, thank you very much."

"Well, if you do, you'll need one of these silly noms de net that these people affect. Some of these are truly bizarre. Speaking of which, here's your pal Nefertiti again, challenging people to write stories that don't mention your age. She must be old as the hills herself. Hey, I said quit tickling! OK, OK, you're virile already. Three times last night, wasn't it? Of course, we actually had to wait a while in between. In the stories we seem to get hard-ons a minute or two after we come. Even you, old knight, the few times you get any action. Come on, cheer up. I don't get off much better. Big blue eyes, translucent skin... Oh, this one's good – 'the slender man.' Cliché city or what? And I'm CONSTANTLY 'pouting delightfully.'"

"Well, you DO pout delightfully. See, you're doing it now." He turned Elijah to face him and sucked briefly at the protruding lower lip.

Somewhat mollified, Elijah scrolled through some more stories. "Here's one. Chasing Ian. Part of a series - though she doesn't seem to have updated recently. Cool title." Elijah read the story with a broadening grin. "This babe's got a great style."

"Yes, her command of English is excellent. And I come across as very kind and, more to the point, virile."

"Hey, just a second! She says I have a problem with your past love life. Hinted at dark secrets. LOTS of dark secrets." He rolled his eyes at Ian. "Why, Ian, you never told me!"

"You never asked. If I had told, apparently you'd have become morosely jealous. Ah, another by the same author. What a delightful woman she must be! Man for All Seasons. You won't understand the title of course." He grinned suddenly. "You'll really appreciate this one, love."

Elijah eyed him suspiciously. "Why?"

"You die."

"That is so not cool. Are you upset?"

"I think I struggle manfully on, but yes, I am devastated. We exchange rings, very touching. You realize that these stories often start with some horribly angst-ridden situation and end up with sex—though not in this case, of course. 'Hurt/comfort,' I believe it's called. More hurt than comfort, some of them. I personally prefer the ones where one of us starts with some mild worry and we end up purging it by getting naked and horizontal for the bulk of the action. Seemingly, though, there must be SOME angst involved—these women seem to wallow in it. And it's not just in RPS. There's one notably grim Gandalf/Frodo story where Gandalf seizes the Ring and locks Frodo up in the Dark Tower as a sort of sex slave. Very angst-ridden, but undoubtedly clever."

Elijah snorted again, clicking up a new story. "What's this? Surprisingly, not another Vig / Orli. 'Mired in Middle Earth.' Have you seen how many parts there are!?"

"There appears to be a sequel too. I counted over forty chapters. Apparently we were teleported to Middle Earth."

"Must have been when I wasn't looking." Elijah was skimming through the summary. "Oh I like this. Not only am I with the wrong guy - and if Seanie ever reads this, he'll explode - but I was raped, invaded by the Eye, tormented by the Ring, became an alcoholic, lost my true love in a wonderfully self-sacrificing way. Found him again -only to lose him."

"Angst galore, all right. I'll book you into the funny farm." Ian sniffed deprecatingly. "I appear to spend the whole time calling people 'dear boy' and offering advice no one takes." He considered. "I don't even get laid. Everybody else does—spectacularly. And several times each."

Elijah clicked his tongue sympathetically. "Don't despair. It's not finished. Maybe you get laid later. Half of these stories appear to be unfinished series."

"Well, I shall hope for the best. Viggo appears to be available toward the end of what's posted recently. At least I'm not that disgustingly avuncular in some of these others. Indeed, someone seems to have made up a trophy boyfriend for me called 'Nick,' and he got picked up by other writers. Pretty, I gather, but if they wanted a young dish, why not use YOU? Much more realistic!"

"Yeah." Elijah opened another story. "'An Intimate Audience with Sir Ian McKellen.' Hey! One of the pervs was at your Audience!"

"Yes, I noticed that title. You know, that evening I was a bit nervous about the fact that there was no security at the door checking for terrorists. I should have worried more about slash writers getting in."

Elijah whistled softly. "Well, I'm in it, and I give you a pretty steamy blow job right off the bat. That was kind of her. Look, it's by Elanor, the 'Mired' lady. So you gotta forgive her—she gets you laid plenty here—and by me! Realized her mistake, I guess." He picked up a story that had just finished printing out, and his face lit up. "And holy shit! Here's one with you and me and Patrick Stewart in a threesome! That is beyond cool! Man, if only!"

"Do you mean to say that you lust after my old friend, you naughty fellow? Calm down and stop flapping it in my face. How can I read it? Yes, yes, I'm sure it's very pleasant. Charming old codgers recollecting their theatrical experiences of the distant past ... You lusting after Patrick—apparently THAT'S accurate. Oh, wait a minute! Hmmm ... 'melee of mature masculinity,' 'gorgeous' body—and that's ME she's talking about. Ha! For once the codgers are sexier than the young dish. Bravo! Or I guess I should say 'Brava!'"

Elijah replied haughtily. "Well, I suppose you deserve it once in a while. Just don't get used to it. I doubt you'll ever get your own RPS site at this rate ... Aha, so this is why you only shot for 15 days the whole time you were in Vancouver—here you are paired off with Alan Cummings!"

"Really? Well, I do seem to be making SOME progress in the RPS world."

Elijah rolled his eyes and switched off the computer, shuffling through the veritable mountain of stories Ian had printed off. "You musta killed a couple of trees doing this lot. Exactly how many hours have you been surfing this garbage?"

"Not many," Ian replied evasively, "And they're mine, I saw them first. Well, at least give me half!"

"Are you really going to post to the list?"

"I do feel a few corrections are in order. Some of these stories are quite ... um, enjoyable, but the inaccuracies do get a bit distracting. Ian writers have a tendency to make me run my hands through my - usually disheveled - hair. I never do that."

"Oooooo. But here's one where I run MY hand through your hair because I think it looks like unspun cashmere. Hey, it gets REALLY hot after that—and YOU'VE got a thick, eight-inch cock. If she only knew it's ME that's got that! ... Oh, great! Here's another where I gnaw on my nails the whole time and call you babe."

"I have to say, though," Ian said, consulting some of the pages with turned-down corners as they walked towards their bedroom, "that these women do write very exciting sex scenes."

"Yeah, here's Frodo and Gandalf going at it AGAIN. On the rug just inside the door of Bag End, in a sudden fit of passion. But wait a minute, there WAS no rug inside the door at Bag End. That's why the Ring fell with such a clunk."

Ian sighed ostentatiously. "In the FILM, there was no rug. This series is book-canon, not film-canon. There's a considerable difference. Tolkien's drawing of the hallway in THE HOBBIT shows a big rectangular rug, right inside the door."

"Sir Tolkien Expert strikes again."

"It's probably one of those thick, brown, spiky doormats. Luckily, Frodo is on the bottom."

"Very funny. But some of these Elijah/Ian stories have some pretty wild scenes, too. Hmmm. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I wouldn't be surprised. Shall we try a few positions? I do wonder if they sacrifice accuracy in the interest of variety in some of their writing. Perhaps we should investigate some of their wilder flights of fancy."

Elijah grinned, ruffling through some pages. "Good idea ... mmmmm ... how about this bathtub scene first? I notice there's a big X by it in the margin."
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