The lid nearly came down on Erestor’s hand, but he was able to move it just in time, smirking as he shoved a nearly cooked chunk of carrot into his mouth. “Ress, I swear, if you keep stealing everything, there will be nothing left for dinner.”

“I can’t help it,” apologized the librarian, lifting up another lid, only to have an oven-mitten covered hand push it back down again. “You make all these things you don’t make the rest of the year.” His finger dipped into the whipped cream that had been prepared for the pumpkin pies before he could be stopped.

“Once more,” growled Fin, waving a gravy ladle at his husband. Erestor pouted, but when his eyes fell upon the bowl of mashed potatoes, he grinned. “Don’t even think about it,” Glorfindel warned. Making a grab for the bowl, Glorfindel attempted to keep Erestor from it. In the commotion, the two of them ended up knocking over the bowl of dressing that Glorfindel had removed from the inside of the turkey, which was back in the oven to cook a little longer. “See? What did I tell you? Dinner is ruined.”

Biting his lip, Erestor looked up apologetically. “I didn’t mean to, Fin. I’m sorry.. can’t it be salvaged?”

Glorfindel shook his head. “No. It’s completely a loss.”

“I’m really sorry, Fin. I know how much you like that the best. Isn’t there any way to make more?” Placing his hand upon Glorfindel’s shoulder, he said with complete sincerity, “I will do whatever I can to help.”

The blond’s jaw twitched for a moment; he nearly let out a sigh and revealed the fact that he had another bowl sitting on the counter, concealed with a cover. Instead, a wicked plan came to mind. Removing Erestor’s hand from his shoulder, he said, “Please, why don’t you go and take a nap? You always seem to need one after dinner, so if you take one now you’ll be able to stay up with everyone in the parlor later when we bring out the tree and decorate it.” It had long been a Little Balrog tradition for the muses to gather in the sitting room after their Thanksgiving meal and trim the tree in anticipation of the annual month of Christmassy drabbles and celebration of Screw Yule to follow in January. With an apologetic smile, Erestor did as he was bidden to do and traveled up to the bedroom he shared with Glorfindel.

Waiting until he heard the door close at the top of the stairs, Glorfindel began to make haste, doubling his efforts. As he worked to finish the meal ahead of time, he made his wicked plans in his head. Once everything was ready, kept warm in the oven, he gathered the supplies he needed and quietly crept up the stairs.



“Mmmm...” Erestor had fallen asleep within minutes, and awoke now to the very familiar feeling of Glorfindel’s finger sliding into him, stretching his passage. He tried to roll onto his back, for he preferred to be taken that way, only to find his hands were bound to the bedposts above him and his ankles to the ones below.

“Aaahh... uuhhh...” Two digits slid inside, twisting about. The oil that Glorfindel was using was unusual, and there was something of a buttery smell to it. Erestor moaned as he was penetrated by his lover’s fingers, slowly opened wider and wider.

“Mmnn- What the-?!” Erestor tried to jerk away, but in his current state was unable to. After Glorfindel’s finger had slid out of him, there was a short wait as his ears picked up on a most peculiar slurping sort of sound. Moments later, something thin, thinner than one of Glorfindel’s fingers was inserted within him again, but it was what had happened next that caused him to cry out. A sudden rush, not unlike the spilling of seed within him, was felt, however, it was much faster, warmer, and more intense. Glorfindel chuckled behind him.

Glorfindel slid the tip of the baster out of Erestor’s passage, refilling it with one hand while he coated Erestor’s entry with more butter. “Hold still,” he instructed as he inserted the tip once again. “Relax,” he added, and squeezed the bulb again.

“What the hell are you doing to me?” demanded Erestor as he felt his arousal twitch against his stomach. There was a towel that was placed beneath him to catch whatever mess was being made, and the rough material only teased him further.

“Giving you a good basting,” replied Glorfindel, as if this were a most normal thing.

“What?!”

Glorfindel smirked, withdrawing the baster. “You did say you would do anything you could to help.”

“I fail to see how this is helping anything,” whined Erestor. He attempted to wriggle away as the tip pressed again to his puckered skin. Glorfindel slapped him sharply on the rear.

“Be good or I’ll plug you up with a potato and leave you up here while the rest of us have dinner,” warned Glorfindel. Erestor shuddered at the comment but said nothing. The tip was reinserted, the bulb was squeezed. “Relax, Erestor.”

The fourth time, Erestor did as he was told, relaxing best as he could when he was breached. The liquid rushed inside, causing Erestor to let out a whimper. “Glorfindel, there’s no room left,” he pleaded as he heard the slurping sound.

“There is plenty of room,” admonished the blond. “Trust me. Besides, I need a little more juice in you before I stuff you.”

“What?” Erestor’s voice was panicked. “Glorfindel, you cannot honestly mean to… to...” The baster entered him again and was emptied as he struggled for words. “Glorfindel!”

“Let me see... I have the bread and the spices, and a pinch of salt...” Glorfindel pretended not to hear Erestor’s pleas as he mixed the contents of the bowl that was resting on the bed with his hand. Filling a number of pastry bags with the softened stuffing, he coated the tip of one of them in butter before doing the same to Erestor’s entrance. “Usually, I like to add about a cup of dressing per pound, but that might take a while, so I shall simply use a few cups or so.”

“Or, none,” suggested Erestor, squirming what little he could. “None is good. I mean, who really likes stuffing anyhow?”

“I do,” drawled Glorfindel as he poked his finger into Erestor and made sure he was well-coated. Pressing down on Erestor’s lower back so that he could not wiggle away, Glorfindel carefully buried the wide tip of the pastry bag into his lover. “I think stuffing is the best part of Thanksgiving dinner.” His hand slid down Erestor’s hip, moving between the towel and Erestor, taking hold of his stiff erection. Stroking it a few times, Glorfindel waited until Erestor’s muscles relaxed before squeezing the stuffing-filled bag. Erestor cried out, but was so wrapped up in what was happening to him on the opposite side, he did nothing to fight against Glorfindel. “See? Lots more room...” crooned Glorfindel as he steadily emptied the contents into Erestor. As soon as the pastry bag was flat, Glorfindel retrieved the next one.

This continued until halfway through the fourth bag, when the stuffing began to seep out as it was being squeezed in. Removing the bag, Glorfindel stopped stroking Erestor’s length as well, leaving the dark elf to let out a frustrated cry and whimper at the loss of contact.

“I just need to add a little more liquid, darling.” Filling the baster once again, Glorfindel drained it into Erestor. “Oh! Silly me,” he said, as the baster was removed, broth dribbling from Erestor’s entrance. “I forgot my secret ingredient.” From a bowl on the bed and unseen by Erestor, Glorfindel pulled a gnarled ginger root. Snapping off a knotted length of it, he took a knife and slit the root before slicing off the tip and carefully inserting it into Erestor. “Let’s give it just a few moments, then,” he said, patting Erestor on the rear.

“You do understand, I will have to get you back for this,” warned Erestor as Glorfindel sat back on his haunches grinning to himself.

“Yes, I know,” he said, inspecting his nails with newfound interest before checking the time.

Erestor flexed his hands to keep his arms from falling asleep and tried to look over his shoulder. “This is very reminiscent of ‘Fruit of the Vine’; I would have expected you to have come up with something more creative.”

“On the contrary, this is payback not only for my ruined stuffing, but also for ‘Root of All Evil’,” Glorfindel reminded him. “In fact, that might even be the very same ginger root,” he mused.

“Doubtful,” Erestor said in an extremely bored voice. “I made sure to-“ Erestor clamped his mouth shut but the damage was already done.

Narrowing his eyes, Glorfindel gave Erestor a curious look. “By now, you should be begging me in a most desperate fashion.”

“Uh, I was just about to get to that,” fibbed Erestor as Glorfindel reached over and pulled out the ginger. “But, ah, no need for that- so, we had better clean up, get ready for the guests and- nnggh.”

Whilst Erestor jabbered, Glorfindel had taken another chunk of ginger root and had peeled away a large amount of the outer layer, leaving the light orangey insides exposed. Minutes after inserting it roughly into Erestor, the dark elf was trying to dislodge it in a most frustrated manner, thrashing and writhing and pleading for Glorfindel to end the torture. “Feels like fire, does it not?”

“Fin, you know it does! Saes, take it out!”

“Not yet. Not so soon. I want you to enjoy the full effects of it,” he crooned as he took hold of each of Erestor’s cheeks and pushed them towards each other, clenching them together. Begging turned to sobbing as Glorfindel slid a hand beneath Erestor and began to relieve some of the tension he felt.

“I think you’ve been seasoned just right,” decided Glorfindel as he pulled the ginger out and used what was left of the butter to slick himself. “But I really do not think you have been completely stuffed,” he said with a growl to his voice.

As he entered Erestor, the dark elf whined, but was soon moaning once Glorfindel took Erestor in hand again. The golden warrior could not recall a time when they had had kinkier lovemaking. Except, maybe the time he was wearing fishnets and a corset. Or, perhaps when Erestor was in the French maid uniform. Possibly, it could have been the time he had given his lover a wine enema, or maybe that night he found out why it was that Erestor had a pet goat. No matter, thought Glorfindel as he found his release, spilling inside of his lover as he bit down on Erestor’s shoulder. If he had to give thanks for something today, it was for the fact that no matter what, every day of the year, somewhere in the world was making sure that at the end of the night, he went to bed with Erestor safely snuggled in his arms. And that was good enough for him.

Epilogue

“Oh, Snoogie?”

Glorfindel swallowed a mouthful of pumpkin pie- the only item that did not go bad as he had been tending to Erestor while the rest of Thanksgiving dinner burned. “Yes, Peaches?” he questioned back. They were in bed, the sheets freshly changed, sharing half a pie topped with whipped cream between them as they watched the video of Macy’s Parade and wondered if Thranduil would notice that they shoved the soiled sheets underneath his official Playstation recliner.

“Christmas is coming, you know.”

Nodding, Glorfindel ate another bite of pie and nearly choked on it. “I know that voice. That’s your plotting voice.” Glorfindel narrowed his eyes. “What are you going to do?”

“Ah, ah, ah- you know you don’t get to open your ‘present’ early,” Erestor replied with a mischievous smile.

-The End, or, Do not open until December 25th-