b2mem | "Om Nom Nom Nom" by Amy Fortuna (Reply)

B2MeM Challenge: Multi-Age: Idioms and translations. (Oh dear.)
Format: Short Story - 2400 words.
Genre: Het, PWP, Comedy, bit Meta as well
Rating: Adult
Warnings: Err, graphic m/f sex and extreme silliness? You might never see a particular lolcat the same way ever again?
Characters: Finrod, Andreth
Pairings: Finrod/Andreth, referenced Aegnor/Andreth, ever-present Finrod/Notebooks
Creators' Notes (optional): I AM SO SORRY. I was going to write a Finrod/Andreth story that managed to replicate the style of the Athrabeth while at the same time showing a plausible way in which Finrod and Andreth could have a relationship. It was going to be awesome. Then I got hopelessly stuck because Andreth would not stop making puns on Finrod's name. Suffice to say this is not the story I intended to write AT ALL WHATSOEVER. (And yet, I regret NOTHING.)
Summary: Finrod is a cunning linguist.

"Oh, they mock me so, my cousins," Finrod said in answer to Andreth's question about why he tended to twitch oddly when people called him Nom. Surely a name meaning 'Wisdom' could be nothing but a compliment.

Finrod was lying with his head in Andreth's lap, and her hand was in his hair, gently stroking it. Finrod seemed to soak up physical affection like a sponge; it was difficult to be near him and not to touch him. In this way, he was so unlike Aegnor, who had always been so distant and tense with her, body held like it would burn out of control every time she was near him, all those years ago.

But Finrod was bright golden and warm, and he gave love freely, expecting no commitment save their friendship. Andreth, who felt as though she had been starved in the dark for years in the face of Aegnor's abandonment of the love they had barely admitted existed between them, could not help but turn toward the light of Finrod, the joy of carefree passion without romantic expectation. They did not often meet, and not every time they met would they fall into bed, but it had happened a few times, ere now.

"They mock you? But why?" Andreth could not help but smile, his tone had been so sincere over such a light topic.

Finrod flushed and turned his head a little, glancing up at her. She gave him an expectant look.

"There is a language, ah, where -", golden-tongued Finrod, stumbling over his words, was almost enough to make her laugh of itself, " - where the word 'nom' means to eat, or devour, or consume." The tips of his ears were bright red now and he was looking intently anywhere but her face. "They say that the Edain call me so because I am so skilled at bringing, hmm, oral pleasures, to those of your race."

It was Andreth's turn to blush, but she hid it as best she could behind a quick response and a smile. "I trust they are not referring to your singing, my dear Finrod?"

"No," he breathed, and then, "But my singing is actually very good too."

"I know it is," Andreth laughed. "But so great a claim regarding the oral pleasures you can bring will need to be confirmed. I am bold to try the experiment if you are willing?" She looked down at him, her hand tightening in his hair, something that always made him shiver and gasp.

So he did now, and his eyes flashed with a glimmer of what Andreth knew by now was interest, both the curiosity of trying something new and the arousal of passionate desire. "I am very willing," he said, and his voice was low and soft, that seductive voice that brought such joy every time she heard it.

She leaned forward as he began to sit up, and their lips met in a lingering kiss. He brought a hand around to her hair, and undid her braid, letting her long hair, dark but sprinkled now more than a little with silver, fall loose about her.

They were sitting on the couch in front of the fire, for it was a cold afternoon in late autumn. Although no one was in the room with them, the door did not lock and anyone might enter, although their footsteps would be heard beforehand. It was not safe to try anything more where they were.

Finrod stood and held out a hand to her. She took it, rising, and they made their way quickly and quietly upstairs and into the bedroom where Andreth slept. There was no fire in the grate and it was cold enough in the room to see their breath. Andreth made sure to slide the bolt of the door, locking it securely.

"Come, I will warm thee," Finrod said then, taking Andreth into his arms and kissing her once again. This kiss was deep, but gentle, her mouth opening under his, his tongue pressing into her in a way that made her go weak at the knees. He was already proving his skill at 'oral pleasures', even though this was nothing they had not done before.

She clutched at him, nearly losing her balance, as the kiss broke and he gave her a quirk of a proud smile, holding her steady. They made their way over to the bed, and Andreth let go of him in favour of pulling back the blankets and coverlets that kept her warm at night. It would be warmest between the sheets, and it really was too cold to consider anything else.

Her fingers fumbled on the buttons of her dress, but Finrod was there, undoing them quickly and carefully, giving her a quick delighted smile all the while.

In truth, she did not know why Finrod, who could doubtless have had any Elf he desired or any of the Edain falling at his feet, had wanted her, hair greying, face lined with wrinkles around eyes and mouth that did not fade, body bearing the toll of fifty years of hard work and suffering. But it was enough that he did, although no consolation for what she had lost that could never be regained. She would love Aegnor to her dying breath, and although she loved Finrod too, it was not in the same way at all, far more of friendship and affection with an undercurrent of desire, than the passionate timeless devotion she felt for Aegnor, even after all these years.

The dress fell away around her, and she slid out of her undergarments, placing them, and the dress, down on a nearby chair. She was now naked, but Finrod was fully clothed, and somehow that did not seem right.

"Take your clothes off, too," she said, beginning to shiver. He looked at her and quickly removed all his garments, laying them aside neatly, then came and took her by the hand. His hair fell around him to the waist, shining brighter than any jewellery or gold, and his face looked so very fair and young that for a moment she felt far too old beside him. But that face was older than her entire race, older than the Sun and Moon both, and in his eyes, the Light of the Trees still shone.

"Beloved adaneth," he murmured, his hand reaching out to slide through her hair. Where he touched her it was warmer, as if he was himself a living sun in a shape not so very unlike her own.

Somehow they made it to the bed, and slid under the covers, holding each other for a moment simply for the sake of warmth. Andreth was shivering, half from cold, and half from the feel of his skin against hers. Finrod kissed her once again, long and lingering, one of his hands in her hair, sliding through the loosened strands of black and silver. She knew that the Eldar found the hair of those they loved especially intriguing, but Finrod was particularly fond of her hair, and of her hands in his hair.

When the kiss broke at last, Finrod bent down to her breast and took a nipple in his mouth, sucking and licking at it gently. This again was nothing they had not done before, but her senses seemed all heightened, and when Finrod moved his tongue against her she could only think of where else he would soon have his mouth on her, and how he would move then. His mouth tightened on and released the nipple in a rhythmic way that made her moan softly, letting her head fall back on the pillow.

She thought if he continued this for long enough, it might be possible for her to reach her peak even through this alone, but that would be an experiment for another day. She knew she was already wet and slick with arousal, and blessed the fact that she had taken a bath that morning, despite the coldness of the weather.

They were almost fully underneath the covers together, in a dark cave of warmth. Finrod's eyes were alight though, in that strange way of his people, and when he looked up at her she could see the warm redness of his lips, that clever mouth that she longed to have delving between her legs, tongue pressing at the folds between her thighs.

He slid down her body, coming at last to rest on his knees between her feet, one hand stroking her pubic hair, tugging very gently at it. She gasped breathlessly, and he bent his head down, parting her lower lips with his mouth, pressing his tongue unerringly to where she most desired. She was swollen and aching, his mouth, comparatively cool, against her tiny button of pleasure enough to make her arch up against him, moaning softly, one hand pressed against her own mouth in an effort to avoid being too loud.

Finrod licked, long and slow, down and up the length of her folds, coming ever back to her clitoris, tongue soft, warm and wet. Her entire world narrowed to the feel of his mouth on her and what his tongue was doing. He seemed to be drawing patterns against her, leisurely, unhurried, ever slowly drawing her up toward her peak. Her hands fisted by her sides, silence forgotten, and then she realised what she could do, and slid both her hands into his hair, tugging at it.

He groaned desperately against her. She could feel the vibrations of it all through her body, and used her hold on his hair to direct him, harder, sharper, more pressure here, stay there. She knew also that he could at times pick up what she was thinking, and so it seemed now, for he quickly found all the places within her folds that caused the most delight, and dedicated himself to licking them thoroughly. One of his fingers pressed inside her, reaching for the place within her that sent her into ecstasy. After a moment's search he found it, sliding his finger back and forth over it in the same rhythm he was tracing over her clitoris with his tongue.

It was too much. It felt as though her body was dissolving into light and warmth. She was arching against him, fluids gushing forth, overwhelmed. Some part of her was conscious that the fluids that were coming out of her had never flowed so freely before but she did not care. Finrod let out a soft breath, lapping at her skin, and his mouth formed a word that she could not understand. She was consumed, devoured by her peak, abandoning all sense of thought and reason in the pleasure that overtook her, greater than any she had felt before. Her hands fell away from Finrod's hair, limp and weak, as wave after wave of delight sent her soaring.

Some time later, it felt, she opened her eyes. Finrod had stopped licking her clitoris but remained between her knees, head down, forehead against her lower belly. His golden hair lay tumbled over her knees and thighs. He was gently and carefully cleaning her up with his tongue, careful to ensure that as few of her juices as possible reached the bedding. He felt her stirring and looked up, lips swollen and shining, all of the lower half of his face covered in her fluids. Sated as she was, she could feel the stirrings of desire begin again just at the sight of him.

"Sweet Andreth, so very sweet," he said, voice broken with desire. "The taste of thee, ah, more delicious than wine!" He moved up her body and kissed her. She could taste herself on him, could feel his erection pressing against her, hard and hot, and wanted nothing more than for him to be inside her, then. She brought her hand down between them, grasping his cock. He groaned against her mouth, and she guided him inside her, putting her legs around his waist.

They moved together, Finrod nearly undone above her, his eyes wide with passion. His hands clung to her shoulders; he was panting breathlessly, all but shaking in her arms. She could feel tiny aftershocks of passion moving through her at the feel of him inside her, pressing against that same place he had found before with his finger.

Finrod was too far gone; it could not last long. He brought his head down to her shoulder, hips stuttering, pressing inward hard, groaning quietly against her throat. And then he was quivering and trembling in her arms, completely undone against her. She could feel his warmth spurting inside her and felt herself arch to meet it, her body reflexively shuddering with pleasure once more.

They lay together for some time like that, Finrod draped over her, warm and solid in the darkness, not heavy at all like she imagined one of her own race would be, but light, almost ethereal. His hair, spread out over their bodies, was like its own blanket, tumbled, tangled. Andreth was warm and at peace, drifting gently in dreams that did not sting with what could never be but joyed only in what was.

"Andreth," Finrod said at last, voice still slightly breathless, "what think you now of our experiment?"

Andreth laughed, tracing a hand over the curve of Finrod's arm and shoulder as he lay against her. "I should say your name was deserved, in both languages. But you and I both know that one cannot depend on the results of a single test to establish proof sufficiently, and therefore further experimentation is required."

He smiled against her skin. "I most heartily agree, my lady," he said, and then went on, well knowing what her answer would be to this. "Do you mind if I take notes?"

There was only one reply; Andreth reached out, grabbed the nearest pillow, and whacked the high and mighty Elvenking of Nargothrond over the head with it. They dissolved helplessly into giggles, Finrod flailing a little at the unexpected descent of the cushion, and rolled apart. Andreth let the pillow fall off the bed, and turned toward Finrod again.

"Nom," she said, just for the pleasure of seeing him flush even more than before. "Nom. Nom. Nom."