Authorís Notes: The best way to start writing for a fandom is to do a little plotless smut. ;) So much for "I don't think I'll write for this fandom soon"! *giggle* Here you go...

Spoilers: From ME? No. Of course there aren't any at all.

Of Snakes and Sex...

By Lyle


The forest has darkened, but I still find enough light to see by. Dense twilight casts us in shadow as the day agonizes through its last death- throes. Legolas and I have wandered a ways away from the others, monitoring the woods with care. I am officially on watch, but he doesnít seem to need sleep tonight. Ice-blond hair swings gently on his shoulders like a diaphanous waterfall, shifting colors and shimmering in the dim light. Alert eyes dart around the circumference, delicate body turning two and fro, giving me multiple angles to admire him at. I wouldnít be watching him, but he does such an excellent job keeping watch that I donít feel I need to worry.

A movement on the forest floor distracts me. I turn. Casually, I watch a snake shove its jaws over the head of an enormous gray mouse. Fast- coiling power. The limp thing in its mouth disappears slowly, flopping as it moves its head to gain purchase.

Mice disgust me; I donít mind watching them die. They smell foul. Some people may think of them as warm blooded breathing animals, but to me they are just moving squeaking morons. They sit washing their faces in the cage with the snake, not seeing behind them, unperturbed by the coils of scaly reptile. Stupid. Moving balls of hair, mass-built, stinking, fast- spreading idiocy.

The snake shifts its tail, gulping as the tail of the mouse slips down its throat. It lies still. Momentarily sluggish, full. I feel suddenly very glad; the mouse is gone. Nasty little thing.

Now, a snake on the other hand. A snake is sexy. Supple, dry, glossy skin. Just the way it slides across your flesh so fluidly, and you think it might tighten at any moment, and kill. But it doesnít, though fully capable. One long smooth silky muscle. The thin diamond head flicks to one side, vigilant; the constant verve, snapping through your fingers as you try to hold on; the slitted thoughtful eyes, unlit, black; the flickering tongue beckons; the soft hiss soothes. Sexy and graceful and stealthy, smiling demurely as it moves.

A laugh. A smile. I think, I think Iíll do this. What the hell? Nobody else will wake up. We can be together as long into the night we want, doing whatever we want. Rubbing my hands together like a fly with glee. I sneak up behind one of the reptiles on the leafy ground, grasping behind the diamond head, lifting up the rings of scaly body. Another one, one that has not just eaten. Fingers nearly shake, loosely holding it around my waist, sleek against skin, glossy. I peel my shirt off to feel it against my bare skin, shove my pants down a fraction.

Knotting around me, tugging, slithering across my flesh. So exhilarating. I shiver and touch my legs. I beckon Legolas over with one finger. The snake smiles at him, I think. Or it looks that way. He talks to it gently, coaxing it to stay around me without slithering all over, without being agitated. Bare feet pad across the woods, silent. He rubs at my shoulder, leans his head in, flings his face against mine. Uncanny how he matches the lips right first try. Two figures dancing in and out, touching, stroking, silky fingers and one intertwining serpent. Warm and cold fucking each other sensually.

I feel my crotch hotly glowing. I look down, almost thinking it could be lighted. So hot. Cold runs around my legs, scales against my thighs, sucking in the hotness, smelling everything and smiling like the Mona Lisa. Tickles softly. Legolas stands carefully, chest to my chest, legs watching out for the snake. I step minutely closer and it twines across, tying us together. We lean against the smooth bole of a tree, precarious, gaining balance as flesh presses into freezing bark. Warmth strong enough to counteract.

Too warm, I think. Too much clothing. I peel his clothes off, quickly tossing his cloak aside. He shakes off his tunic as I unbutton his trousers, sliding them down around his slender legs. He reaches over to me. Before I even have time to get impatient, I find myself standing naked in the woods. A sizable pile of garments lies in the leaves, discarded for the moment. The two of us are in trouble if anyone comes. Though it is almost amusing to picture Legolas as a nude archer, distracting enemies with his beauty as he shoots them down. He smiles softly, leaning back into me.

Heated lips together, bodies heated unevenly. Rapidly moving coils hurry up my back, looping around my neck, holding us into our kiss. Snakes move like sentient ropes, or like a silk rope twisted by some invisible hand. Cool and glossy, stroking around my neck. Perhaps a sentient noose? So close to a strangle-hold, firm and tight against the backs of our necks. But it wouldnít hold us up.

Slow sexy sliding, flesh on flesh, scales on flesh. Legolas and I touch unusually carefully. We donít want to smash the snake, after all. Slipping and stroking and playing with eachotherís hair. I press my hips up against his, stealthily mashing the fleshy tools together. Dangerous sex, and delectable.

I twist him around in my arms. I push his stomach deep into the stone and lean my abdomen up against him. Only the curve of his neck keeps the snake off the chilled tree. The dented flesh creates an easy hold for it as it curves against his back. Erotic drapes around his shoulders. A dry wiggling ice cube. Gentle writhing vibrations against me as I lean in close to shove my hardness against his ass.

My hands against the stone, cooling almost my whole body off, so useful it is. I press my hot erection deep into him, easing slowly. It makes me wonder, do I even own any lube? We never use it. Ahh, well. Who cares. I like to feel strong muscled friction, gradually absolving into slickness. We lurch together, carelessly stroking at each other. The snake frees itself from his body and hurries up the wall to latch onto a branch, clinging to the wood. Its head dangles down to watch the sport with cold ophidian eyes.

So enormously worked up, so near to our climax. Fast---smooth---hot---cold---slick---hurrying... stroking... wanting... We break together, loosing everything. Warm inside and wet, throbbing in the after-glow. Flopping backwards. Lying on my back now. Up against my tree. My arms melt into the soft moss at its base, barely propping myself up. Creamy softness stroking my spine, relaxes me fully.

Damnit. I need to get up to keep a look out. We must put our clothes back on... Ohh. But I could lie here forever. So comfortable. Uneasy, though. I know I have to get up. I open my eyes and I see that Legolas has already thought of this; he slips his garments on hurriedly, though gracefully. He dresses himself before I manage to stand. Itís almost wicked how fast he regains proper thought after sex. Or does he ever loose it? An elf, after all.


Return to Archive