The study is empty, its walls comfortably suffocating around me. Elrond has left me for a short while to tend to a patient, likely one of his sons again, and so I find myself alone here as I find myself too often. It is not that I mind being alone, at times I enjoy it, but work is more tedious without someone to share it with, or to speak to every once in a while so as to break the monotony.

I was not thinking that my monotony would be broken by a lovely, well-toned, auburn-clad ass dropping onto the papers that litter my desk. However, it has been, and it is still an ass, and it is on my work.

With my eyes I follow the ass up, taking in the perfect body it is attached to, eventually reaching my lover Glorfindel at the top, smiling, his blue eyes shining and his cheeks flushed from being out-of-doors. He has one leg cocked and his ankle crossed over the other knee, legs spread, and is sitting on my desk most provocatively, with a package on his lap.

"Greetings, love."

"Glorfindel." I nod.

"Have you tried the fall apples yet?" he asks me, revealing that the package he carries on his lap is his own cloak wrapped around a bushel of freshly picked apples, stems, leaves and their frosty covering still on them.

"No, I have not."

"You should." he tells me, taking one and rubbing it against his tunic to clean it and buff it up. His hair falls in wisps about his face like an elfling's, slipping out of his golden braids.

"You are seated upon my papers."

"They are wonderful... crisp and sweet, but not overly so, and very juicy."

As sweet and succulent as both Glorfindel and the apples look, I am in the middle of writing a letter and the flight-path of my thoughts has been diverted by his entrance. I choose simply to not look at him, and to repress my urge until I can get him to leave.

"I am busy." I tell him.

But alas, I have not planned on Glorfindel eating the apple in front of me. At last having buffed his apple enough, this great warrior smiles at me as if he were one twentieth of his age, holds it up to show me the polished surface, bright red, and then takes a bite of it. His white teeth pierce the skin, biting into equally white apple flesh, spilling juice down his chin, and then his eyes close, rolling back a little and he makes a noise along the lines of: "Mmm..."

"Glorfindel...." I say sternly.

Greedily, just as an elfling does, he takes another bite, and then another, each time the sound of him biting into the apple makes my mouth water a little more.

"Yes love?" he asks me, taking a moment to look at me, those wide-set azure eyes resting on me with his trademark cool, cocky calm.

"I have told you already, I am busy writing a letter."

"Is it a love letter?" he asks. "For me?"

"No. It is a letter to Lord Thranduil."

"A love letter to Lord Thranduil... ai, I am hurt Erestor!" he cries, placing one hand on his brow and leaning back, looking for all the world like a distressed elleth.

"It is a letter to thank him for a gift."

"Oh?"

"Some casks of wine he sent to Elrond as an anniversary gift."

"Dorwinion?"

"No."

"Then why are you thanking him? Thranduil has plenty of Dorwinion, and he is a greedy basta--"

"Glorfindel, be nice." I admonish.

"But he is."

"I know, we all know, but we do not go about saying such things."

"Why not, when he is?"

"Because he is a king, he is very highly placed, and besides, it is not polite. You know this."

"Erestor, my sweet, ever polite Erestor..." Glorfindel mocks. "You do not always say 'Please.' in bed." He gives me a wicked little grin, his sweet, bow-shaped mouth twisting into an evil expression, and then he takes a few more bites of his apple, making a point of using his tongue as much as possible, suggesting what else he might do with it.

I can feel myself giving way, my cock hardening as I watch him perform his talented oral work on the apple.

"Glorfindel," I say again, meaning to sound foreboding, but instead my voice is desperate, pleading.

"A bite?" He offers, holding up the fruit to me.

"Yes..." I say, but I kiss him instead, on the mouth, lapping up the sweet juice insistently.

He pulls away from me and smiles ferally, obviously having planned this all along. One of his hands, the one not holding the apple, slides up my robe and rubs at my erection, tempting it into further hardness. I moan a little, and his eyes narrow. He licks those kissable lips.

Suddenly though his hand is gone, and there is a knocking at the door and the muffled voice of Elrond. "Erestor? Could you let me in? My hands are full!"

"Tonight," Glorfindel whispers into my ear, his breath caressing the sensitive tip. "Sweet Erestor, tonight we will finish this..."

I squirm a little, loosing control and silently cursing my lord for coming at such an inopportune moment.

Glorfindel laughs again, a fae laugh. "Tonight, I promise you. - tonight!" And then he passes me two apples, one in each hand, and kisses my mouth one last brief time before gliding to the door and letting Elrond, behind a stack of books and scrolls, into the room.

I watch silently as my lover dodges behind Elrond as he enters, speaking with him through the apple he is still munching on. "Watch your feet my lord, beware the carpet! Good. I must be leaving now..."

And so Glorfindel leaves the room, as quickly as he came, still carrying most of his apples.

I fall back into my chair and glance at Elrond, defeated and flustered. Elrond sets down his mountain of paper and then turns to me, tilting his head to one side quizzically. "Are you well?"

"Have you tried the fall apples yet, my lord?" I ask, sounding a little dazed I'm sure, and I offer him one of the two I hold. He accepts it, giving me a queer look. The other is put onto my desk, a fruit I will have to wait a little longer before devouring.


fin