bloodcount: Count Bloodcount, the vampire from the Loonie Tunes cartoons. (LOTR Ovaltine)
([personal profile] bloodcount Sep. 22nd, 2009 03:17 pm)
Title: Boffin'
Rating: Adult
Pairing: Folco Boffin just about every gal in sight
Warnings: None
Plot: At a low (high?) point in his life Folco is the imaginative Walter Mitty of the Shire.

As she drove her weighted cart away from what used to be her smial, Mag Redwort, formerly Mag Boffin, stole a peek over her shoulder. Folco Boffin only gazed back, his hands placidly stripping the tufts from three sourweeds. She sneered and faced front. She reached the bend and looked behind her once more, this time at her two sons, Rudo and Red. They, too, were calm and took the sourweeds their father offered. Perhaps she thought they would run crying after her but even a child's patience could be stretched thin as a thistle. The three of them owed her enough to see her off but that was all. Mag scowled at them one last time and, viciously snapping the cart pony with the end of the reins, rounded the bend out of their lives.

She had even taken the boys' beds.

Folco swallowed the tart juice (the only sour he would stand anymore) and flicked his weed after her. Free. He was free. Free of insults, raging tantrums, bitter complaints, endless squabbles and her damn-awful snoring. Folco was a skilled woodworker and the furniture could be replaced, easily, beautifully, since he'd had the foresight to lock his workshop to keep her paws off his tools. She took nothing he'd miss except six long years of his life. Or would he miss them? He looked down at the two little gentlehobbits at his side and knew he didn’t regret that time at all. Still it took every ounce of strength he had not to imagine Mag's loaded cart overbalancing and tipping its driver into a ravine. He didn't imagine her striking every rock with her head as she bounced down, down, down to where the wargs and carrion crows were waiting. No, to think of that horrible, bone-crunching, vein-slinging, blood-spurting and well-deserved mangling would be petty.

Folco took a deep breath and turned back to his plundered home, #2 New Row on Bag Hill. He was just in time to see tiny gaps in the curtains in #1 and #3 suddenly close. Even the clipped hedges bordering Bag End were stealthily shaking. They stilled as he watched them and he softly laughed. His boys looked up at him expectantly. "We are the latest Nine Day Wonder, lads," Folco warned them and self-consciously tightened the band that was neatly tying back his hair.

Rudo took his sucked-dry sourweed out of his mouth and tossed it under a bush. "Aye, well," he said, and squared his little shoulders. He was smiling.

"Aye, well," Red echoed and threw away his sourweed, too, ever the adoring shadow of his big brother.

"If we look extra pitiful," Folco whispered loud enough to be heard all over the hill, "Maybe the Mistress Rose will bake us a cake!"

"Ooh! A spice cake!" Rudo shout-whispered back and Red's eyes went wide with sudden hope. Rudo's head then hung low and his feet scuffled on the ground as he walked back inside. "We are sad and pitiful!" he cried.

"So saaaad!" Red whined, shuffling after.

"So pitiful!" Folco sobbed and began to limp. Bag End's hedges snickered.


The Mistress Rose outdid herself. She brought a party, well, not a party, certainly, that would be inappropriate given the tragic circumstances. Still, she brought the poor Boffins food, she brought them ale, a spice cake big enough to feed ten grown hobbits and she brought her husband, the Mayor Samwise, and all of their children. The neighbors from the row crept in, all the Rumbles from #1 and the Goodbodies from #3. It really would have been a shame to waste the bare floors of the smial so Arlo Goodbody fetched his gitar and the dancing began! (Strictly to put a brave face on things, of course.)

Surrounded by sudden riches Folco looked at Rose with real affection, caught her and kissed her on the cheek. She giggled almost like a girl and pushed him away. "None 'o that, now, I'm not doing anything special."

"You smell like spices. It's wonderful."

"Oh, honestly!" She went to pull her youngest out of the cold, but ashy, fireplace and Folco smiled after her. She was so kind. And her figure was still delightful, even after bearing so many, many children and…

"Hey, Sam, come and take a look at this whopping big hole I just dug," Folco invited, leaning on his spade.

The Mayor of the Shire hooked his thumbs into his silken waistcoat and inspected Folco's work with great gravity. "Aye, that's a hole, all right. Mind tellin' me what it's doin' in the middle of my nice, green lawn?"

"I was chasing a mole and got carried away," Folco hefted his shovel and took a couple of practice swings, carefully measuring the distance between the flat of the spade and Sam's head.

"Did you get it?" Sam asked, still looking down.


"Got it!" Folco crowed and refilled the hole, mayor and all.

"Folco!" The Mistress Rose called, suddenly appearing out of the bushes and wearing nothing more than a nightdress of floating lace. "Have you seen my terribly important husband?"

"Hmmm," Folco thought about it. "Probably just buried in his work somewhere. Come see the new flower bed I made just for you!"

"Sweetheart! However can I repay you?"

"Lie down."

"All right!" She flopped to the ground and Folco leapt on top of her, kissing her wildly. He could smell the rich, just-turned soil and Rose's perfume. Delightful! He snuggled into her soft, generous curves. Suddenly a strong grass-stained hand shot out of the dark earth and clutched him by the throat. Folco gasped.

"No, you don't, you daft carpenter!" Sam bellowed from beneath the ground.

"Oh, THERE you are, my dear!" Rosie crooned while the interloper choked and gurgled.

Folco laughed quietly and quickly thought of something else. Fantasies involving Rosie usually wound up that way. A shame, really. "All will be well, Mister Folco!" Elanor the Fair suddenly hugged him hard enough to turn him blue. Then she whirled him into the dancing, her hand patting his back. Folco laughed again, surprised. Mag didn't… hadn't liked to touch his back, or look at it or even speak of it. The ruffians and their whips had made a mess back there and the sight and feel of it disgusted her. He gave Elanor a turn and her long hair gently brushed against him, his wrists, and his arms. They danced a reel and her waist was warm under his hands. They turned and dipped in perfect unison as if they'd danced together for years. It was a performance impressive enough to get a round of applause when the music ended.

Folco bowed to them and to her. "Not just another couple of pretty faces, are we?"

"Indeed not," Elanor agreed, curtsying back. The beginning beats of a whirl dance started up and Folco decided to monopolize her again. Why not? Mag was gone, gone, gone and he could dance with anyone he damn well pleased.

The door banged open and Fredegar Bolger stormed in with a grin. "What?!" Folco exclaimed and stopped dancing, his arm still around Elanor's shoulders. "Don't tell me the news is already at your end of Hobbiton?!"

"DARLING! It arrived an hour ago. I would have come to comfort you sooner but I had to scrounge up the kiddies!" And in walked Fredegar's family laden with food and drink, naturally, but also rugs, blankets and bedding. Glorious Freddy, his boys wouldn't have to sleep on the wooden floor! Folco drew in breath but Freddy waved a careless hand through the air. The old say nothing sign that Freddy's gang of rebels used when there was a suspicious character about during the War. Folco bit off his thanks and grinned at his old friend. We'll talk later he signed back and gave Elanor a quick, one-armed hug because he had to let out his affection somewhere. Freddy pounced. "OHO! Maaahgh not even out of sight, yet, and you already have a replacement! Does Sam and Rosie know?" Elanor turned red and laughed while Folco rolled his eyes. "Tsk! Too young, Folco, too young! The shame of it!"

"I'm taking advantage of his bereavement," Elanor whispered with her finger at her lips.

"Good on you," Freddy whispered back. "We don't call him 'Longpole Boffin' because he's good at fishing, don't you know."

"FREDEGAR!" Folco shouted as his arm shot away from Elanor as if she'd burnt him. She doubled over, laughing, and her golden hair nearly swept the floor. Folco flicked his wrist. You WANKER!

"I don't know what he's said now and I don't want to know," Rose decided as she approached the three to rescue her oldest daughter. She nudged Elanor towards the children. "They're having a party game, play with them and not these big sods."

"She'll have to play with the big sods someday, Rosie," Freddy's voice was pompous and the Mistress Rose smacked him one. "Ow!"

"But not yours, you gross old thing," she stressed. Freddy snickered and Folco covered his eyes with his hand. If he could see no one then no one could see him or his blazing face. Rose comfortably tucked her arm into Freddy's. "Stop making trouble. Get on, Ellie."

"Yes, Mum," Elanor said and, grinning, went to the little ones. Red, just shy of four and already deeply in love, lunged for her. She picked him up and swung him around. She would have endangered the china cabinet if it had still been in that spot and not bumping along the road in the back of Mag's cart. "What are we playing, eh?" she asked them all and they beamed up at her.

"Spinner!" Little Ivy Goodbody proclaimed, waving an old, clay vase in the air.

"Oooh, fun!" Elanor said and joined their circle, gracefully sitting on Folco's floor as if she'd never sat in a chair in her life. Spinner was a child's game and the older girls and boys had shunned the younger group. But, now that Elanor was playing, it was suddenly the most wonderful game in the world. Rollo Bolger and Dilo Goodbody tripped over each other in their rush to find a place. The lads got up, embarrassed and glaring daggers, but Elanor gave the vase a twirl and the two were distracted from doing each other deadly harm. Folco, Rose and Fredegar laughed in their sleeves at them all. The vase slowed and, while the children squealed, it pointed directly at Rudo. "Whoooo does Rudo have to kiss?" Elanor wondered, tapping her chin. Ivy waved her hands in the air. Rudo looked at her and then at Elanor in agony and waited for his doom to fall. "You have to kiss... the Widow Rumble!" the Fair decided. Ivy pouted and, clearly relieved, Rudo got up to find Adamant Rumble.

She was gossiping with the Missus Bluebell Goodbody in an old rocking chair she had dragged into the empty smial because 'sitting on the floor is no good for these old bones.' Rudo stepped up and tugged on her sleeve. She looked down. "The Spinner Sent Me," Rudo said and her eyebrows went up. She shared a quick laugh with Bluebell and then offered her cheek to the boy. He gave her a loud smack and went running back to the game where everyone was applauding. Rumble, amused, turned back to her talk with Bluebell. Folco smiled as he watched her rock in her chair and felt blessed to have such a good boy and such a grand neighbor. Then Freddy and Rose pulled him into a circle dance.

More friends and neighbors popped in to offer condolences. Soon the place was overflowing with Boffins, Cottons, Goodbodies, a Baggins or two, Rumbles, Grubbs, countless Gamgees and who knew who all else and the festivities were well underway. The 'Back of Maaaahgh!' non-party had turned into an Event and a fiddle and two drums soon joined the gitar. The enthusiastic dancing drove the Spinner game right out of the smial. Children, teens and tweens still gamely twirled the vase on a patch of bare ground and were laughingly sent on missions into the crowd.

Folco was idly watching them from the window, resting from the dancing, when Red gave the vase a twirl. It landed on Delphinium Grubb and Red clapped his hands. Despite all the noise Folco clearly heard him say "GET DAD!" He choked on his cider. Oh, no. Not Del. She was his unofficial apprentice and a definite distraction in the Boffin workshop. Del's interest was portrait painting but Folco was the only hobbit in town that knew anything about paint so the two of them were making the best of it. These days he was teaching her how to make picture frames and she was quite good at it. Mag had hated her. Folco quickly moved away from the window. This might be more than a little interesting.

He walked over to the cider barrel and beer kegs (courtesy of Granddaddy Goodbody) where he could be easily seen from the door and Freddy, guarding the drinks and joking with Sam, welcomed him. "Wouldn't you rather have a beer, Folco?" Fredegar offered as Folco dipped up another cup of the sweet stuff. Folco shook his head. Del loved cider. "You've gone wall-eyed, what's up?"

A heavy hand fell on Folco's shoulder. "The Spinner Sent Me," intoned the Grubb and he turned slowly around.

"What?!" Fredegar sputtered. "Him and not me? Who spun? Who sent you?"

"Red," she laughed. "Bend down here."

"All righty!" said Freddy and leaned in.

"Not YOU! Him!" she exclaimed, batting him away.

Folco would have to face her tomorrow and the next day and next. He made the unhappy decision to be cautious. "I'll concede to Freddy, since he likes you so much. Why, I don't know," Folco said, looking down his nose at the girl. "Happy Early Birthday, Freddy."

Freddy choked back tears. "That's my boy!" and thrust his ale into Folco's hand.

"I didn't wanna kiss you, anyway," Del proclaimed, giving him an exaggerated sneer.

Then she winced in sudden fear as Fredegar ‘Fatty’ Bolger bore down on her. Four Delphiniums having a full afternoon tea could have fit comfortably inside him. "Too young, Freddy, too young!" Folco cried.

"Oh, shutcher sausage hole!"

"Uuugh, I can't watch," Folco groaned. "The shame of it." The unfairness of it.

Freddy bent the girl over backwards. Every youth in the area cringed but, for all his bluster, Freddy's kiss was nothing more than a peck and Del was immediately released to stagger, red-faced and relieved, back to the circle. Folco gave Freddy, who was preening, his ale back and sighed. Well, that HAD been interesting. And he would see her tomorrow, after all. Tomorrow he would be teaching Del about varnish. He wished, with all his heart, that he could teach her, oh, any number of other, important things…

"You see, Delphinium, you have to use broad, steady strokes to work the oil in."
"Like this?" Her slick hand pulled on him and Folco's head snapped back in ecstasy. They were facing each other, straddling his workbench, and today's lesson was going very, very, very well.

"Yes," he gasped. "Oh, yes, just like that. And…and…ah! It's very important not to stop once you get a rhythm started."

"What's best, Master Folco?" she asked, her head tilting to the side in that way she had when she was paying close attention. Exposing her lovely neck. "Slow or fast?" Her hand was warm and strong and Folco groaned.

"S… slow at first and then fast towards the end. It'll be time to speed up when the other can't … can't keep still." His body proved his point when he arched his back and moved closer to her, his hands behind him, gripping the bench. She smiled and moved closer, too, her shapely legs lifting up to settle over his thighs. Her skirt was up in her lap and he could see all of her. Her dark, curly hair and her pink, wet flesh. He almost came apart then but he managed to regain control. "And don't… ignore yourself. You're supposed to have fun, too, y'know."

"I know," she answered, her voice low and delicious. Her free hand moved between her legs as he watched. She began to stroke him faster…

Folco shook his head to clear it. "For heaven's sake," he muttered to himself and drained the last of his cider. "I think this is the best batch Granddaddy Goodbody ever made. I'll have to tell him," Folco decided out loud and was drawn into a serious talk about fermented apple juice with his cronies.


It was long after sunset before everyone went home. Freddy rounded up his tired brood and teased Rollo for being dreamily smug. The Spinner had sent the lad after Elanor the Fair, twice, and he was going to live off both kisses all year long. "Remember, Folco," Freddy droned portentously and everyone nearby stopped to listen. "Pace yourself. Just because you're now free to bed every female in the Shire doesn't mean that you should." He tapped his nose in all seriousness and his own wife whacked him between the shoulder blades for that one before Folco could reach him. "Ow!"

Piss off Folco signed at him. Captain Fredegar Bolger signed back either suck rock or suck dock or, well, suck something, before verbally wishing everyone a hearty goodnight and heading out for home.

Folco and his remaining guests stood in the door and watched them until the Bolgers disappeared. "He's awful," Rose decided. "Rotten. Terrible. If I hadn't married Sam I would be married to him. DON'T tell him I said so. Or Sam, either." She actually went red and Folco laughed at her. Her oldest boy, Frodo-lad, finished sweeping up the floor, which was not as bare as it used to be, thanks to the love of Folco's friends, and stopped at the door to wait on his mother. "Be there in a moment, son," Rose said. "Folco, Ellie's tucking your boys in, just send her on when she's done."

"I will," Folco replied and kissed her goodbye. He amused himself with thoughts of shovels and flowerbeds until she was out of sight. Then he went inside and shut the door. Truth be told, however, he was ever so slightly bitter at how being a wife and mother, noxious chores for Mag, were worn so beautifully by Rose. The Gamgees didn't know how lucky they were. He threw out that dark thought. Envy was a thing of his past and he wasn't going to stand for it anymore.

He stood in the middle of his home and breathed in the peace. What a brilliant party, er, event it had been but he was glad it was over. When Mag heard about it, how everyone mourned her, how everyone was so, so sorry to see her go, she was going to explode. Everyone around her was going to be made miserable.

But not him. And not his sons. Not anymore. Not ever again.

He stretched, his arms reaching for the ceiling until his fingertips tingled, then relaxed with an explosive release of breath. He walked past the rocking chair to the window. Wait, the rocking chair?! Still here? Oh, the Widow Rumble had very conveniently left it behind. Folco gave it a push and it creaked back and forth for a moment. He decided to keep it. He would make her a finely carved replacement out of solid oak. She deserved no less. "She's too old for you, my desperate friend," he mocked himself in perfect imitation of Freddy and looked outside.

The beauty of the silver stars and the bright moon, the silence, struck him. The wind rippled through the leaves in the trees. A single leaf was torn away and Folco watched it fall to the ground. And was that the barest chill in the air? Yes, it was. Autumn was coming and winter right behind. Spending winter shut up in the newfound tranquility of the smial was going to be bliss. He was going to enjoy the calm and quiet that was even more valuable because he knew he could keep it. His home, his serenity, all his.

He blew out the lamp and closed his eyes in the moonlight, tired to the bone. The scars on his back began to throb. They were deep and sometimes they pained him. He unhurriedly unbuttoned his waistcoat, pulled it off, and slid his braces down from his shoulders. He took off his shirt and the cool air swept over his skin. Oh, that was delightful. He tossed shirt and waistcoat onto the rocking chair and pulled the leather band from his hair. It fell around his face in loose, dark curls and he ran his fingers through it. Was there any cake left?

"Ah," someone said and he startled.

"Elanor! Great heavens, Ellie, I'd forgotten you were still here." The moonlight made her hair look almost white in the dark and Folco almost closed his eyes again from the sheer beauty of her. "Sorry."

"Ah. Heh. Er, yes," she stammered, glancing at his bare chest and then quickly away at the wall. She pointed back over her shoulder. "Red and Rudo are fast asleep. They had a long day. And I'm engaged to Red, you know."

"Welcome to the family," he said and smiled, the wind flicking his hair.

"Thank you," she murmured and swallowed. Folco realized she was too nervous to move past him to the door.

He chuckled, a warm, rich sound directly from the heart and Elanor couldn't help but grin in mystified response. "Oh, if only Freddy could see this," Folco explained and she managed a soft laugh. He took a step closer and leaned in like an evil conspirator. "What do we do now, Elanor?" he whispered. "Now that I'm free, shall I pounce on you right here or should I sweep you off your feet and carry you into the bedroom?" She choked and stared at him, eyes wide. Folco wondered what in all the Earths possessed him to say that out loud and he snickered again.

"You've lost your mind," she decided.

"No, I'm just happy." More should have been said, like an apology or an explanation, but he simply didn't have the energy. He crossed over to her and laid his hands on her shoulders. Her mouth dropped open in amazement but she held still. He bent and kissed her on the cheek. Oh, her skin was impossibly soft. "Thank you for helping me with Red and Rudo," he said and straightened. "Thank you for everything."

She breathed in deeply. "Y…you're welcome." She glanced at his bare chest again and Folco realized, tween though she was, she had never been confronted with anything like him before. Folco was sad, worn and scarred. But he was most definitely no tweener boy and a lifetime of hauling oak, pine and cedar had left lovely results. Elanor seemed confused. A little intrigued. Completely dismayed. It all rather amused him and he grinned down at her.

She decided to say a few suitable words. "I'm… ahem!" She took a slow step back then looked into his face with determination. "I'm so glad everything is good for you, finally. It was…er. It's been difficult but now all… all is well," she finished lamely.

Folco nodded, pleasantly agreeing. "I can break any of your other playmates with one finger, you know." He scratched the air in a gesture just this side of vulgar and Elanor's jaw dropped open. Folco couldn't stand it anymore and he threw back his head to laugh the way he hadn't laughed since the War. A loud laugh and a glorious one. He backed away and collapsed into the Widow Rumble's rocking chair. He wiped the tears from his eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he sputtered and guffawed some more.

"You have lost your teeny little mind," she said again but she was smiling this time.

Folco looked up at her again and nodded, still snickering a little. "Yes. I’m afraid I’m going to wake up soon." She nodded as if she understood but she didn't, of course. So beautiful she was. But so young, still. So very young. "Good night, Elanor," Folco said, with some finality. "Thank your dad for me, he left before I could." She blinked, surprised, and then her face seemed to take on a strange shine. Folco realized he was seeing a blush in the moonlight. The sight was breathtaking, a balm for his soul, not to mention a stroke for his ego. But he simply rocked in his chair. "Good night," he said again.

Elanor realized she had to respond. "Ah! Yes. Good night."

"Good night."

"Good...I'll see you in the morning."

"Lovely." Rock, rock, rock.

"Thank you for the par... ah, the dancing." She was biting her lip.


"May I kiss you?"

Folco stopped rocking. He did her the courtesy of thinking seriously about it. "No," he said very gently. "Best not, dear."

"All right then!" She nodded, smiled at the floor, and was at the door in a flash, her moonlit hair streaming behind her. Under the circumstances Folco decided it would not be good to follow and see her off so he stayed seated. She opened the door, went out, and shut it gently behind her.

He sighed and slapped his hand over his eyes again. He rocked until weariness overwhelmed his discomfiture, then he stretched his arms towards the heavens again. He got up and noticed the little clay vase from the Spinner game had been filled with daisies and left in the corner. It was undamaged despite all the rough handling it had endured and Folco smiled at it. He picked up his clothes and went to check on the boys. They were fine. Rudo was snoring, fortunately the only negative trait he had inherited from his mother. Red, an active sleeper, had scattered his pillows and Folco gathered them up. He stuck them back under the child, cushioning an arm here, a leg there. He did the best he could, even though he knew Red would just kick them away again.

He took up what blankets were left over and made a pallet for himself in his own room. Agh, the floor was hard, but he had made do under bridges, in dank caves and inside hollow logs back in his Rebel days so he didn't care a whit. He looked around at the walls and noticed they were rather dingy and faded, save for where the paintings had hung. He decided to skip teaching Delphinium about varnishes on the morrow and introduce her to the joy that was smial painting. Oh, she was going to love that. Folco smiled and closed his eyes.

"Ah! Yes. Good night."

"Good night."

"Good…I'll see you in the morning."


"Thank you for the par…ah, the dancing."


"May I kiss you?"

Folco gazed on the beautiful girl for a moment. "Of course you may," he whispered.

She strode forward with an assurance that left her completely when Folco stood up and met her halfway. She looked up at him and paused, unsure. He reached out and touched her fine, long hair. His woodworking calluses were catching in it so he stroked the gossamer strands with the back of his hand. She hesitantly put her arms around him and stood on tiptoe. He bent down.

Their mouths joined and, ah, yes, soft lips. Soft, warm, strong. Giving. Folco braced the back of her head with his large hands and pressed harder, opening his mouth. She made a "Hnnh," sound in her throat and let him in. His tongue slid along hers, gently, again and again and again. They broke apart and he listened to her breathe. Then she reached for him again, her hands sliding down the muscles of his bare arms. Another kiss. It was so sweet, so very nice. The last of the stiffness went out of Elanor's body and she clung to him. He tilted his head back but she pulled it down again. Another kiss. Deep and warm, again and again and again.

He slowly took her hands off him and stepped back, her fine hair still clinging to his skin. Elanor froze. "What did I do?" she asked, worried.

"You just asked for a kiss." Folco was smiling again but breathing hard. She frowned in disappointment. He licked his lips. "I can give you more, though. If you want."

"If I want? I… " She shook her head and her eyes drifted shut. She was thinking. Folco waited. "Yes, please," she decided. "I want more."

Yes! "Grand. What do you like to do?" he asked. She bit her lip, stumped. Folco shook his head in disgust at the younger generation of hobbit lads in the Shire. What fools to neglect something, someone, so important. "I'll show you what I like to do, all right?" he offered.

"All right."

"Good." He grinned and let her go. He put a hand on her chest and nudged her, step by step, back against the wall. She touched it and looked up at him, apprehensive again. "Don't worry. This won't hurt. Not the least little bit."

"My friends say it does."

"Your friends are unimaginative idiots." Folco kissed her again and his fingers brushed lightly down over her breasts. She gasped against his mouth. He ducked his head and mouthed her throat. He licked it and very softly bit the skin. His hands drifted down her body to her waist. He kissed her mouth again and she kissed him back with enthusiasm despite her lingering worry over the wall. Her trust was very dear.

He knelt on the floor in front of her. She looked down in confusion. "Oh, what are you doing?"

"Something very simple." He slowly pushed her skirts up. "Here, hold these."

"Um," Elanor had doubt but she held her skirts up. And her face was flushed red, Folco could see that plainly despite the dark. He quietly laughed, enjoying every moment of this.

"Nothing at all to worry about, I promise. Happens every day." He reached for the tie on her undershorts and pulled the string. They fell to the floor and she flinched. Her first impulse was to drop her skirts again but Folco stopped her. "No, trust me." She hesitated, then nodded and he grinned up at her as he settled himself more comfortably on his knees. His strong hands began to massage her legs, beginning at her ankles and slowly working up. He smoothed his fingers over her calves. He caressed the sensitive skin on the backs of her knees. (Elanor flexed her legs, she liked that.) He stroked her thighs and kneaded the strong muscles in her backside. She smiled, her hands twisting the fabric of her skirts. He touched the springy curls between her legs. "It's all right," he reassured her again and reached inside with his finger. She gasped. He found what he was wanting, what she was wanting, and he stroked it, gently massaging the hard little bead until she moaned.

He spread her flesh apart and slowly leaned in. Then, with all enthusiasm, but gently, began to do the job with his tongue. She froze in amazement. He pressed harder and she suddenly gave in with a sigh, spreading her legs wider and tilting her hips forward. He held her steady and pressed in with a hard lick, over and over and over again. She gasped and he heard a muffled wail. He glanced up. She was biting into her arm. Good. His eyes slid shut again as he slowed just the slightest bit and brought a hand down to free himself from his breeches. 'Longpole Boffin' most, most certainly and he stroked himself in time to the darting of his tongue.

Deep and warm, again and again and again.

Elanor was writhing. Her shoulders grinding into the wall as if she could burrow into it and her skin was shining, the muscles in her legs taut. She gave up trying to be quiet. "Oh, Folco! FolcoYesYesFolco!" She gripped her skirts with her other hand until the knuckles were white.

He braced her, lifted one of her trembling legs from the floor and draped it over his shoulder. The hot smooth softness of the inside of her thigh against his face was maddening and wonderful. He doubled his assault on both her and himself and she suddenly shrieked. Her heel dug into his sensitive back as she urged him closer and then, oh, yes, her hand was fisting into his hair. It would happen soon for her, very soon. "PleasePleaseYes!" She pulled and Folco groaned in triumph at the pain.

She let go of his hair and flattened herself against the wall as if trapped there by an irresistible wind. She gasped. She gasped. And again and again she gasped and her head whipped from side to side. Folco leaned back and released himself as he pinned her across the stomach with one muscular forearm. Then he worked her hard with his fingers again. Worked her very hard, very fast and he watched her without blinking as she let go. She convulsed, her every muscle tightening as she cried out helplessly. Elanor clutched at the masonry as if she would crawl right up to the ceiling and she shouted again. "AAAAHHH!!"

Then her arms dropped and she sagged. Folco caught her as she slid down the wall and he tucked her close as they collapsed back on the floor. He took himself in hand again and the sight of her, breathless, spent and even more beautiful than he'd ever seen her, finished him off instantly. He shuddered and moaned as he kicked the floor. "Elanor! Elanor!" She opened her eyes and lazily kissed his throat as he went limp, oh, such a release he'd never had.

Folco drew his arm across his eyes as the last few pulses of sheer pleasure rocked his body. He gasped for air as he sat up, erased all traces of his indulgence, then fell back onto his pallet again, tired, tired, mortally tired. The room seemed to tilt, wobble and spin as he slowly calmed. Spinning, spinning, the spinner sent me. The whirling soon stopped and all was still. Peaceful. Folco smiled at the ceiling and his last thought before sleep took him was I wonder who I'm pointing to?



bloodcount: Count Bloodcount, the vampire from the Loonie Tunes cartoons. (Default)

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