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The shire is always a pleasant place to be, but in summer, it is truly beautiful. The hills are a juicy green, like the ample breasts of –
“Don't you tell me your wives have green breasts, elf”, Gimli snorted and chortled.
With an exasperated sigh, Legolas closed his records, deciding to find a better time, a better place to write. A place and time devoid of simpletons with not enough soul in their bodies to appreciate his art. Not that he had expected the dwarf to act any differently.
“I thought you had gone fishing with the hobbits?” It was a subtle hint at how much he had enjoyed the quiet, but he was pretty sure Gimli was not going to pick up on it. And if he did, the dwarf chose to ignore the notion.
“I was with them, but they're quick. I lost them. Not like they need me for protection around here anyway”, Gimli grumbled, sitting down next to Legolas. They shared silence for a while, so used to each other's presence that the dwarf's smell barely offended the fine elven senses anymore.
In fact, to his own surprise, if not to say horror, Legolas had to admit to himself that he had come to think of the dwarven scent as almost pleasant. There was a richness to it, a certain flavour that reminded him of comradeship and battle. It was sweat, probably. Sweat and leather.
“Are you sniffing me, elf?”
“Don't be ridiculous.”
Something about having been caught caused Legolas' hands and feet to tingle. What was wrong with him? He cleared his throat, frowning at himself for a moment. It took him some time to realize Gimli had a smirk plastered all over his face.
“What?”, Legolas asked. The dwarf shot him a look, but did not reply.
* * *
After a hot day, it was refreshing to let himself be cleansed by the river's cool waters. Legolas stretched like a cat, his long, blonde hair being carried downstream, until he raised himself from the water, stalking back ashore. He laid himself down on a blanket he had brought, letting the sun dry his skin, his thoughts running freely.
So freely that when they returned to reality, Legoals flinched, startled. There was something right in front of him and it took him a moment to realise what it was. It was...
Gimli's hairy arse.
And to his great shock, the elf found his eyes to not be as affronted by the sight as he thought they should have been. In fact, he watched Gimli move, as the dwarf dried himself off, with no regard to his own privacy. It seemed to be a concept he had never heard of.
Without thinking, Legolas reached out, twisting a lock of hair of Gimli's lower back between his thumb and index finger. The dwarf either did not notice, or did not mind and Legolas let his hand wander lower, to another strand of hair, right on top of Gimli's tail bone. He thought he saw the dwarf freeze for just the tiniest of moments, but as the bearded one still did not show any reaction other than the short hesitation, Legolas pushed his luck, moving his hand lower.
His index finger followed the hair. It gently stroked over Gimli's hairy balls until his hand was out far enough to cup them. By now, it was impossible Gimli did not notice him, so Legolas guessed the dwarf wanted him to go exploring. However, he hesitated. After all, this was not... something he had ever actively considered – or had even wanted to imagine. But what was the worst that could happen? Well, he could grow to like it...
Playing with the warm ball sack that filled his hands, Legolas sat up, sitting on his knees now, and reached around the stocky dwarf to find his member in the thick curly bush covering the front of his body. It was impossible to tell where the beard ended and the pubic hair started. Maybe they were interwoven, the pubic hair incorporated, braided into the beard with some secret dwarven technique...
Shuddering, Legolas ignored the weird feeling that thought had given him and, as he had finally made out his destination, grabbed hold of Gimli's slowly growing cock, gently rubbing along the length of it. Compared to the dwarf's size, it was quite the tool...
Leaning forward, Legolas rested his forehead against Gimli's lower back, taking in the other male's musky scent. Weirdly enough, it was not arousal that he was feeling, it was... affection. He was pleased by the sounds the dwarf was making, the grunts and guttural noises, while Legolas himself was completely content just listening and smelling and feeling and pleasuring his comrade.
He felt Gimli's muscles twitch below his face, felt his body expand with every breath. By now, Gimli's cock was hard and thick in his hand. Legolas switched hands, his arm starting to hurt from the pumping motion and he adjusted his body behind the dwarf.
A wetness coated the tip of Gimli's cock and Legolas' movement sped up, his hand held on a little firmer to the rigid shaft and then suddenly it jerked in his hand and spurts of a hot, thick liquid soiled the dwarf's hair and the elf's hand, accompanied by a high-pitched war-cry that caused Legolas to blink in surprise. A new smell accompanied those of sex and dwarf sweat, but it was not an unpleasant one.
“I don't care if your wives have green tits, elf. If any of their hands are half as skilled as yours, I'll take them all.” Legolas smiled to himself and nodded.
“I know you would, dwarf.”