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Jul. 8th, 2003 10:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
claudia603Ha ha ha. This is NOT the story I had planned for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
trianne's b-day, but...
The following is a slashy drabble extravaganza. I have taken almost all the slash stories I have either worked on or am working on and have written drabbles "between their lines." No violence or ruffians, just good old fashioned slash :-D
Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I certainly don’t own or make money off ‘em.
Blissful Nights:
“Not so fast!” Boromir caught the back of Frodo’s jacket with a strong finger, pulling the laughing halfling back to him.
“Boromir, I must bathe. You…” Frodo’s cheeks reddened. “Goodness, you are all over my clothes. They’re stiff from it.”
“It should be as honey to you.” Boromir feigned insult and dropped to one knee. His arm snaked around Frodo’s waist, pulling him close. His free hand explored the front of Frodo’s vest, fingers snagging in tiny button holes, roaming over the modest linen shirt stained gray with dried semen from that morning, stiff just as Boromir was right now.
***
Captain of Gondor:
What Boromir did was wrong. He hovered outside the Houses of Healing, half turned to head back to the Citadel, his member stiff and unsatisfied with need. He could not help but peer through the crack in the drapes.
Frodo set aside his embroidered vest and peeled off his shirt. A pink nipple was so close that Boromir could nearly stroke it. His groin warmed and grew swollen.
Frodo glanced down at himself, examining his own skin with deft fingers, one missing. He pinched his own nipple, closing his eyes in need. He gasped in sharp pleasure, whispering, “Boromir…”
***
Down on Luck:
Strider leaned in, nipping Frodo’s pointy ear gently. “There are ways to pleasure a hobbit in your condition.”
Frodo looked alarmed, but his cheeks revealed his thrill. “Strider…Tommy and Bart shall be here soon. What do you…what will you—“
Frodo was interrupted by a hand in his breeches that knew exactly where to rub. Frodo leaned into the hand with a gasp low with craving. His hand was everywhere at once, into his buttocks, over delicate sacs, under the fine delicate skin of that which was now full and ready.
“Kiss me,” Frodo gasped.
Strider’s lips were molten hot.
***
King’s Halfling:
Holis was no longer in so much pain that Frodo did not haunt him nearly constantly. The idea that Aragorn had thrust the halfling into prison like a common criminal caused bile to rise up his throat. If Frodo were only his…
Holis rubbed, closing his eyes.
Hairy feet rubbing his battle-scarred legs, tickling and abrading…the silky skin of his pale chest heaving with pleasure…soft curls scented sweetly, like wild flowers and herbs…whip scars on his back – brave…beautiful…mine!
Holis panted, but it wasn’t until he pictured full lips closing over his hardness, licking and sucking, that he found blessed relief.
***
Lantern Gift:
“Faramir, no. People walk by here!”
“Hush, Frodo, it is not like you to be so modest.” Faramir leaned over insistently, kissing those bow-shaped lips with such fervor that Frodo could not breathe. Faramir was kneeling in the shallow creek and now his leggings were soaked.
When Faramir released Frodo, the hobbit’s thighs gave out and he fell into the water.
Faramir helped him up, but now he was shivering, his heavy linen shirt so wet that his pink nipples showed through.
Just ashore, Frodo and Faramir looked at each other through blazing eyes before they fell upon each other.
***
Too Long to Wait:
Frodo lay in Aragorn’s arms, glaring at the ceiling. He sighed in frustration. All the hints and stroking in the world, and Aragorn had merely kissed him goodnight.
Frodo no longer worried about being awakened by Ellohir in the night. The child slept all night now.
Frodo rolled up his nightshirt, revealing his hardness, and pressed his bare chest against Aragorn, nipping his neck. Aragorn groaned and shifted.
Gray eyes opened and insistent hands roamed skin that had been left untouched for far too long.
“Please…” Frodo thrust against him, gasping.
“No, Frodo.” Aragorn shook his head firmly. “Never that.”
***
Spring in Emyn Arnen:
Faramir loved it when Frodo got tipsy from the wine.
“State your business in Ithilien,” Faramir slurred, straddling Frodo on the bed, pinning his wrists over his head.
“You’ll never get it from me,” Frodo said with a wicked smile, chest heaving.
“I must know what brings a beautiful halfling so far from home.” His voice he kept low and husky.
Frodo arched his brows. “It is not your business.”
Faramir unbuttoned Frodo’s shirt with his teeth, kissing bare chest as it was revealed. “What say you to this?”
“Please…just let me go.”
Faramir enjoyed helping Frodo earn his freedom.
***
Trapped in Bree:
One day Aragorn gave word to his guards that he was not feeling terribly well and that he was not to be disturbed all day. By nightfall, he found no battle could ever have exhausted him more than a day in bed with Frodo. Their semen fresh and sticky over layers of semen that had long dried on their nightshirts and satin sheets, emitting a stale copper scent.
“Shall we?” Frodo gasped.
“You are not sore?” Aragorn laughed.
“Who is the hardened warrior?”
“You’re insatiable.” Aragorn’s sticky groin rubbed with slippery ease against Frodo’s, bringing them both back to life.
That is all...
trianne's b-day, but...The following is a slashy drabble extravaganza. I have taken almost all the slash stories I have either worked on or am working on and have written drabbles "between their lines." No violence or ruffians, just good old fashioned slash :-D
Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I certainly don’t own or make money off ‘em.
Blissful Nights:
“Not so fast!” Boromir caught the back of Frodo’s jacket with a strong finger, pulling the laughing halfling back to him.
“Boromir, I must bathe. You…” Frodo’s cheeks reddened. “Goodness, you are all over my clothes. They’re stiff from it.”
“It should be as honey to you.” Boromir feigned insult and dropped to one knee. His arm snaked around Frodo’s waist, pulling him close. His free hand explored the front of Frodo’s vest, fingers snagging in tiny button holes, roaming over the modest linen shirt stained gray with dried semen from that morning, stiff just as Boromir was right now.
***
Captain of Gondor:
What Boromir did was wrong. He hovered outside the Houses of Healing, half turned to head back to the Citadel, his member stiff and unsatisfied with need. He could not help but peer through the crack in the drapes.
Frodo set aside his embroidered vest and peeled off his shirt. A pink nipple was so close that Boromir could nearly stroke it. His groin warmed and grew swollen.
Frodo glanced down at himself, examining his own skin with deft fingers, one missing. He pinched his own nipple, closing his eyes in need. He gasped in sharp pleasure, whispering, “Boromir…”
***
Down on Luck:
Strider leaned in, nipping Frodo’s pointy ear gently. “There are ways to pleasure a hobbit in your condition.”
Frodo looked alarmed, but his cheeks revealed his thrill. “Strider…Tommy and Bart shall be here soon. What do you…what will you—“
Frodo was interrupted by a hand in his breeches that knew exactly where to rub. Frodo leaned into the hand with a gasp low with craving. His hand was everywhere at once, into his buttocks, over delicate sacs, under the fine delicate skin of that which was now full and ready.
“Kiss me,” Frodo gasped.
Strider’s lips were molten hot.
***
King’s Halfling:
Holis was no longer in so much pain that Frodo did not haunt him nearly constantly. The idea that Aragorn had thrust the halfling into prison like a common criminal caused bile to rise up his throat. If Frodo were only his…
Holis rubbed, closing his eyes.
Hairy feet rubbing his battle-scarred legs, tickling and abrading…the silky skin of his pale chest heaving with pleasure…soft curls scented sweetly, like wild flowers and herbs…whip scars on his back – brave…beautiful…mine!
Holis panted, but it wasn’t until he pictured full lips closing over his hardness, licking and sucking, that he found blessed relief.
***
Lantern Gift:
“Faramir, no. People walk by here!”
“Hush, Frodo, it is not like you to be so modest.” Faramir leaned over insistently, kissing those bow-shaped lips with such fervor that Frodo could not breathe. Faramir was kneeling in the shallow creek and now his leggings were soaked.
When Faramir released Frodo, the hobbit’s thighs gave out and he fell into the water.
Faramir helped him up, but now he was shivering, his heavy linen shirt so wet that his pink nipples showed through.
Just ashore, Frodo and Faramir looked at each other through blazing eyes before they fell upon each other.
***
Too Long to Wait:
Frodo lay in Aragorn’s arms, glaring at the ceiling. He sighed in frustration. All the hints and stroking in the world, and Aragorn had merely kissed him goodnight.
Frodo no longer worried about being awakened by Ellohir in the night. The child slept all night now.
Frodo rolled up his nightshirt, revealing his hardness, and pressed his bare chest against Aragorn, nipping his neck. Aragorn groaned and shifted.
Gray eyes opened and insistent hands roamed skin that had been left untouched for far too long.
“Please…” Frodo thrust against him, gasping.
“No, Frodo.” Aragorn shook his head firmly. “Never that.”
***
Spring in Emyn Arnen:
Faramir loved it when Frodo got tipsy from the wine.
“State your business in Ithilien,” Faramir slurred, straddling Frodo on the bed, pinning his wrists over his head.
“You’ll never get it from me,” Frodo said with a wicked smile, chest heaving.
“I must know what brings a beautiful halfling so far from home.” His voice he kept low and husky.
Frodo arched his brows. “It is not your business.”
Faramir unbuttoned Frodo’s shirt with his teeth, kissing bare chest as it was revealed. “What say you to this?”
“Please…just let me go.”
Faramir enjoyed helping Frodo earn his freedom.
***
Trapped in Bree:
One day Aragorn gave word to his guards that he was not feeling terribly well and that he was not to be disturbed all day. By nightfall, he found no battle could ever have exhausted him more than a day in bed with Frodo. Their semen fresh and sticky over layers of semen that had long dried on their nightshirts and satin sheets, emitting a stale copper scent.
“Shall we?” Frodo gasped.
“You are not sore?” Aragorn laughed.
“Who is the hardened warrior?”
“You’re insatiable.” Aragorn’s sticky groin rubbed with slippery ease against Frodo’s, bringing them both back to life.
That is all...
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-07-08 04:54 pm (UTC)*cough*
OK, still like the Spring in Emyn Arnen best ... I just love them being playful together. So does Faramir get all dressed up in his breastplate and cloak and pull his hood over his head? "Bind his hands."
That Boromir one (the first one) is hard to beat, too.
Re:
Date: 2003-07-08 05:46 pm (UTC)Thanks for your fb! Glad you enjoyed! Let me say again how much I lurved your A to Z, too (*sigh*)