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Knocking At Heaven's Door	By : kathmco Category: -Multi-Age > Het - Male/Female Views: 2852 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
Title: Knocking At Heaven's Door

Author: Emmess

Rating: NC17

Warnings: Everything I can think of without being overly gross and offensive.

Pairings: Um, yeah…everybody.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Tolkien, and really, not much of anything else.

Summary: Ever wonder what happens to fanfic writers after they die? Would heaven be heaven without Elves and sex? Um…no. No, it wouldn't.

Chapter 16 - Rocky Horror? Rocky Balboa? Rocky the Flying Squirrel?

"Give yourself over to absolute pleasure. Swim the warm waters of sins of the flesh - erotic nightmares beyond any measure, and sensual daydreams to treasure forever. Can't you just see it? Don't dream it, be it," Thranduil whispered, licking his red lips, and running one slender finger down the side of my face.

"Um…Your Majesty…Thranduil…er…Frank…I…"

"A mental mind fuck can be nice…"

"Eww. Okay, then…have you taken your medication today? Really…this is…all a tad too much," I said, gently pushing him away. "I thought Heaven was supposed to be based on my fantasies…but sweetie, not on my worst day did I ever imagine getting it on with Tim Curry. Not Tim Curry in "Lemony Snickets," not Tim Curry in "Muppets Treasure Island," and most definitely not Tim Curry in "Rocky Horror."

"What, might I ask, is so wrong with Tim Curry? From what I understand, he's a very nice human," Thranduil asked, suddenly stiffening and frowning at me, his black painted fingernails drumming on his hipbones.

"I'm sure he's a lovely individual…really…it's just that my tastes run to sculpted bodies, long hair and pointy ears, none of which - as far as I know - Tim Curry possesses."

"How did you ever get into Heaven? You're shallow and prejudiced!" he thundered, going almost nose to nose with me.

"There's not a prejudiced bone in my body! How could you say that? Just because Tim Curry in drag doesn't turn me on?" I fumed, staring up into his blue-shadowed, false-lashed eyes. I did notice that under the makeup, he had lovely eyes the color of a clear mountain lake.

"Alright, but you're still shallow!" he thundered, glowering over me.

"I'm not shallow…I'm just being honest! In life looks didn't matter much to me…but I'm dead! There has to some compensation for that! Why do you think I'm shallow?"

"You won't even give it a chance, that's why! Do you know how many hours it takes me to look this good? Foundation, and powder, and teasing, and lip liner, and eye liner, and binding to get cleavage, and my feet are killing me!" he roared, bending down and ripping off his heels, flinging them over my head so that they bounced all the way down the stairs.

"Little testy, aren’t we?" I whispered, backing up a few feet. Somehow, Thranduil in drag having a hissy fit was pretty disturbing. Well, actually, Thranduil in drag at all was disturbing - him having a hissy fit while dressed like a fifty-cent hooker was downright frightening.

"Come with me," he shouted, grabbing my arm and dragging me down the hall. He opened a set of double doors on his right, his viselike grip on my arm never loosening as he entered the room and slammed the doors shut behind us.

"Sit!" He ordered, before stomping off into the next room. From the next room I heard the sound of glass breaking, heavy objects being tossed about, and finally, running water. All the while, I could hear Thranduil's voice as he talked to himself. "Try to do something a little different…try to show a little imagination…try to make things a little exciting…and does she appreciate it? NO! She wants sculpted bodies. She wants long hair. She wants pointed ears. She wants B-O-R-I-N-G! Fine! She wants good ole boring Thranduil, then she gets good ole boring Thranduil! Amin lava!"

It was right about then that I started feeling a bit guilty. Poor thing…went through all that fuss and bother to get dressed up and all I could do was stare in shock and tell him I didn't like it. Damn it…I didn't "do" guilt very well…it always made me feel, well…guilty. My eyes roamed around the King's boudoir, finally alighting on something that might just make him feel better and me feel less guilty - horrendously embarrassed, and just a little bit sick to my stomach - but definitely less guilty. I found it lying atop a stack of colorful costumes that I supposed were used to facilitate Thranduil's penchant for playacting. Swallowing hard, I quickly stripped out of my gown, as well as my pride, and donned the gray costume.

Thranduil appeared at the door about twenty minutes later, completely cleansed of every trace of make-up, his hair freshly washed and laying in a golden sheaf down his broad back. Wearing only a pair of loose, white sleep pants, which hung low about his hips, he would have seemed a god standing there framed in the bathroom door if he hadn't burst into a deep, rumbling belly laugh.

Had he been able to see my face, he would have seen that I was blushing a lovely shade of scarlet. He couldn't however, because at the moment I was hidden inside a "Rocky the Flying Squirrel" costume.

"Hey…that's not nice…I thought you'd like this…" I spat, my voiced muffled under the heavy, plastic and felt head.

His laughter died down to chuckles as he approached me. "Darling…I wear that…the female needs to wear this…"

"I draw the line at dressing like Bullwinkle!" I argued, peeking out from under the Rocky noggin at the brown antlered head Thranduil was pointing at. "I will NOT dress like a moose!"

"Oh, but flying rodents are okay…?" Thranduil asked, cocking an eyebrow at me, still chuckling.

"I was trying to make up for being rude, and not liking your Drag Queen From Mordor costume!" I muttered, ripping off the Rocky head and glaring at him.

"…and I appreciate it…really, I do…" he said softly, taking the Rocky head from me. I got my first really good look at him then, sans make-up, since the welcoming dinner. The only one who could match him in the looks department was his son…and even he would have a tough time of it. His golden crown of flaxen hair gleamed in the firelight, framing a face of angles and planes that blended into an incredibly handsome countenance. He flashed a boyish grin at me, running his fingers though my hair. "No more costumes. I should have asked first, anyway…" he said, his voice fading as he bent to kiss me.

His fingers quickly found the zipper to the Rocky costume, sliding it down and allowing the hot gray felt to fall off me. "Much better," he murmured, his lips leaving mine to trace a line down the side of my neck to my shoulders.

That was it. Gone were all thoughts of Tim Curry, drag queens, and cartoon mammals. The only thing that filled my mind were thoughts of the broad shouldered Elf who was currently nibbling at my collarbone. Without hesitation, my hands traced the muscles of his chest, rubbing lightly over his rosy nipples. Sliding further south, they traced each ridge of his chiseled abdomen, sneaking under the drawstring waistband of his sleep pants, tickling at the soft curls that lay beneath, and at his awakening Elfhood.

He moaned as my fingers took hold of him, my lips beginning a slow journey down his chest. The further south I traveled, the louder and longer his moans became. My teeth pulled at the strings that held closed his sleep pants, loosening them enough for my eager hands to pull down, releasing his erection to my equally anxious lips.

Without further ado, I attacked his member with a passion, my hands sliding around his slender hips to grip his firm buttocks. A growl came from deep within his chest as my fingers slipped between the cracks of his cheeks, probing gently.

Yeah…I'd like to see Bullwinkle get that kind of reaction from Rocky.

Bucking into my mouth, he moaned again, before his strong hands lifted me up, his lips claiming mine to taste himself on my tongue. In one smooth, fluid movement, he scooped me up depositing me on his bed, his body parallel with mine, his hooded blue eyes darkened with lust. Without hesitation he filled me, quickly finding a rhythm that caused my eyes to roll back in my head.

"Ahhh…yes! Do it, Fearless Leader!" I murmured into his ear in my best "Natasha" voice. "Make it go "Boom!"

"You vant "Boom?" he whispered back in a very good "Boris" voice. "I geeve you "Boom!"

And he did.

A big "Boom." An Atomic "Boom." A Thermonuclear "Boom."

Lying in his arms, content in a marvelous afterglow, I snuggled in close, my hand tracing random patterns across his broad, golden chest. Just a few moments later a knock sounded at his door, and another blonde Elf poked his head in the room.

"I beg your pardon, Your Majesty…"

"Yes, Galion?"

"The seamstress wishes to know whether you want the sheep permanently attached to the Bo Peep costume."

"No…tell her to use velcro."

"Very good, sire," Galion answered, closing the door again.

Thranduil looked down at me, an expression of innocence on his lovely face. "What?"

"Nothing…nothing," I murmured, smiling as I laid my head back on his chest.

I could feel his breath beginning to even out, and realized he was drifting off into a reverie. Quietly, almost soundlessly, I whispered into the silky skin of chest, "Baa."

In a flash he rolled over on top of me, a lascivious grin splitting his face.

Ding, ding. Round Two.

TBC…

Translations:

Amin lava…I yield
- 15
- 16
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Knocking At Heaven's Door