LARGETONY Blog

NOTE: I have not seen the movie “Brokeback Mountain.” This is just sort of a spoof based on what I have seen in trailers, with my own ideas tossed on top of it. It’s not a commentary on anything, just me wanting to write something. Just meant to be entertaining.

Continued from Part One

Following the hearty dinner, Jingleshanks found himself sitting with Flintwinkle in the cozy parlor, listening to stories of life at Silver Whiskers. When he admitted his nervousness about the next few weeks at the North Pole, Flintwinkle assured his new charge that he’d be working with the best reindeer trainer there was and as long as he kept his eyes open and mind focused, he’d do okay. “Besides, I got a good feeling about you.”

Jingleshanks blushed at the vote of confidence and when he asked who the best reindeer trainer is, Flintwinkle leaned forward, locking his cool grey eyes on the younger elf and answered without a hint of arrogance, “Me.”

At that moment Pixiebean bounded into her father’s lap with a small tin. Flintwinkle reacted with mock pain and fiercely tickled his daughter in revenge. The little girl squealed in delight and offered up the tin as a peace offering. “Ah, that’s my little girl,” he said to his daughter appreciatively. He opened the tin and with his thumb and forefinger took a pinch of powder from inside and placed it between his cheek and gum. “Now, don’t forget Mr. Jingleshanks.”

“Wild peppermint,” Flintwinkle answered to Jingleshanks who questioned the tin being held up to him by tiny hands. Jingleshanks had only ever had processed peppermint before, but he didn’t want to offend his host so he took a pinch himself. The pure white powder burned his mouth a bit and made his eyes tear. “Like the cold, in time, you’ll get used to it,” Flintwinkle chuckled.

“Stop bothering Mr. Jingleshanks, Pixiebean.” Gingertwist said, coming into the room after cleaning the dinner dishes. “It’s time you and Tumblepuff were in bed.” At their mother’s instruction the girls said their good nights and kissed their father. “So, do you have children, Jingleshanks,” Gingertwist asked.

“No ma’am. I’m not married.”

“Have a girlfriend back home in Hollow Tree?” When Jingleshanks responded once again with a negative, she added, “Then I’m sure you will find someone to your liking at the ‘Come Together’.” Gingertwist explained the dance that Mrs. Claus holds every year once the seasonal elves arrive “It’s an opportunity for the native and visiting elves to get to know one another. Many a winter romance has come out of that dance. The perfect place to fall in love.”

“He ain’t here to fall in love, he’s here to do a job.” Flintwinkle interjected. “And,” he added, turning to Jingleshanks, “We got a big day ahead of us tomorrow, so we best all turn in for the night.”

Jingleshanks wasn’t used to going to bed as early as elves seemed to at the North Pole. So, several hours later he was still lying awake, shivering from the bitter cold. He pulled the heavy blanket around himself and headed back into the parlor in hopes of warming himself by the fire. He carefully navigated the creaking boards of the wood floor, trying to not wake anyone else. Jingleshanks stood at the glowing hearth, letting the heat rise to his face as he listened to Flintwinkle snoring on the sofa behind him. When he turned to warm his backside, he took notice of how the golden firelight bathed the room and, more particularly, the slumbering figure of Flintwinkle.

Something unexplained drew Jingleshanks to Flintwinkle. He moved closer to get a better look and silently marveled at how the soft glow enhanced the sleeping elf’s rugged beauty. Jingleshanks could hear his own breathing take over that of Flintwinkle’s. His heartbeat thumped in his chest as knelt down to get even closer. Although he knew not to, he reached out and brushed his hand against Flintwinkle’s wiry beard. It was thicker and more masculine than his own. In his mind, Jingleshanks saw everything about Flintwinkle as more masculine. Now that he had touched the other elf, he couldn’t make himself let go. Whether incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, Jingleshanks let his hand wander and linger, exploring the hard and muscular physique that he had seen emerge from the hot springs.

Even though he was healthy and in good shape, himself, Jingleshanks was fascinated by the difference in the feel of another elf’s body as compared to his own. Flintwinkle slept soundly through the examination and did not seem to notice even when Jingleshank’s hand found it’s way into the front of his thermal pants. Jingleshanks was shocked to feel that Flintwinkle had grown and hardened from his touch. The moment his fingertips touched the meaty root, he snatched his hand away in alarm.

Flintwinkle, who may not have been in as deep a sleep as Jingleshanks believed, tightly gripped the retreating hand and returned it between his legs. Flintwinkle never opened his eyes or reacted in any other way, but Jingleshanks understood the message and dug deeper into the other elf’s crotch, enveloping the baggy scrotum in his fist, giving the firm testicles a gentle massage. Flintwinkle’s muscular thighs spread, almost as if involuntarily, giving Jingleshanks more room to work.

Not knowing what to do, but also not knowing how to stop, Jingleshanks let his instincts guide him. He spit into his palm, just as he did the countless times he has pleasured himself, and applied it to Flintwinkle. He ran his fist up and down the fully hard shaft, quick strokes down and long, slow stokes up. Flintwinkle’s hips began to grind and rock gently, almost pushing himself up into the sensual grip.

Jingleshanks worked his digits over and around Flintwinkle’s hardness so mercilessly that it began to curve toward Flintwinkle’s tight abdomen that flexed in response. It so thrilled Jingleshanks that he was compelled to reach into his own pants and take hold. With himself in one fist and Flintwinkle in the other, he increased his strokes, determined to bring both of them to completion.

A steady rhythm grew between the two elves, bodies jerking in short breaths with stifled moans. On the verge of release, Jingleshanks sat back on his heels and threw his head back. He sunk his teeth into his lower lip as he worked feverishly. He heard a low grunt come from deep in Flintwinkle’s gut, and almost immediately he felt the other cock gush its warm sticky contents all over his fist. Unable to contain himself any longer, Jingleshanks exploded from his other fist, with a howl. Afraid of being heard, Flintwinkle reached out and pulled Jingleshanks into his torso to muffle the younger elf’s cries. With his face pressed against Flintwinkle’s chest, Jingleshanks trembled and his body heaved as he continued to ejaculate onto the floor.

He wanted to stay there against Flintwinkle after his orgasm subsided. He loved hearing the other elf’s heart beating within the big chest. Neither was able to look the other in the eye in the afterglow. Flintwinkle did allow himself to stroke Jingleshank’s hair for one brief moment before suddenly rolling over and, thereby, cutting off contact.

Jingleshanks didn’t sleep any better after returning to his guest room. Besides the cold, he now dealt with guilt and embarrassment at what had happened in the firelight. As much as he told himself it was wrong, he couldn’t get away from the fact that at the time it felt so right.

Tossing and turning all night, he was an elf in conflict and that conflict would not go away until he dealt with it. So, the next morning, at breakfast, still unable to look Flintwinkle in the eye, he knew there was only one thing to say.

“I’m going to be needing a ride to the station. I’m going back to Hollow Tree.”

—to be continued

This entry was posted on Monday, December 26th, 2005 at 3:06 pm and is filed under holiday, stories. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.