I found an intriguing prompt on a now-dead community calling for Fingon/Fingon by any means the writer chooses and so I wrote it. Now it's finished. I suppose I'll put it here and see how it flies. Here's another crack!fic comin' your way.

The morning was bright and cheerful when Finrod entered his drawing room. The previous day's rainy weather had subsided and today promised to be pleasant. The smell of breakfast titillated his senses and a smile graced this fair face to see that one of his guests had already arrived. Fingon's azure gaze flitted from his host to the half-empty platter of sweet rolls. At this the lord of Tol Sirion laughed. "Don't worry, cousin. I knew I was inviting infamous eaters to breakfast and prepared accordingly. Where is Maitimo anyway?"

"Still sleeping," Fingon griped. "Doesn't he realize it's been 10 years? You'd think once two people wed they'd have more intimate encounters, not fewer. I passed the line of sexual frustration at year 3. Now I've reached ravenous insanity."

As if to prove to the veracity of his statement, Fingon attacked his fifth sweet roll.

"I had the craziest dream last night."

"Oh? Do tell...when your mouth is empty, if you don't mind."

Fingon grumbled but complied and Finrod waited patiently. Knowing Fingon's imagination, the tale would be worth the wait.

"I walked into my room in Barad Eithel," Fingon began, "But I was already in the room."

"What do you mean," Finrod asked, "You mean you walked into the room you just left?"

"No, I mean I saw myself waiting for me in the room."

Finrod 's eyebrow raised a fraction. "So there were two of you?"

"Yes! Two Findekanos," Fingon confirmed, "I walked into the room but I was already waiting for me. I was sitting on the bed wearing a silk dressing gown like the ones I used to have back in Tirion. I was looking at me seductively and I invited myself to join me. In what, I'm sure you can imagine. "

"I can imagine," Finrod said contemplatively. "Did you want to?"

Fingon was looking even more distressed, "Yes, I more than wanted to. I was attracted to me...strongly. I saw myself as I never have before. I realized that I'm incredibly beautiful. Never before had I noticed how soft and pale my skin is, or how my hair is thick and smooth. I just wanted to touch it, to run my fingers through my hair. Then I found I was walking forward. I was reaching out and I touched my face."

As Fingon spoke, he reached up and touched his face as he described, lost in the memory of it.

"My cheeks are so soft and warm. I began to kiss them. I kissed my nose and my forehead, my chin, my neck, and finally my lips. It was strangest thing, kissing my own lips, experiencing the flavor of my own mouth from that perspective. I was overcome with lust for me."

Finrod thought to himself how truly odd this dream was, though as Fingon said, it was as alluring as it was strange. Even as Fingon described his dream and his revelations therein, Finrod experienced the revelations as well. He had always viewed Fingon as being rather plain looking, especially for one of his high station and powerful spirit, but now he began to see his cousin in a new light.

"I began to touch my body," Fingon continued, "the body of the other me, that is. My hand moved up and down my thigh and then I was pushing myself back onto the bed. I remember feeling the thrill at how easily I yield to my wishes. I was more aggressive than I normally am as a lover. I sat back a little bit, and looked down at me. I looked so wanton laying there with my legs spread and my lips swollen from my kisses. My legs spread even wider when my touch moved to my inner thigh and progressed higher. The way my fingers sunk into the flesh of my leg was so arousing. Maitimo says that he likes that about my body. He says that there is a luxurious feeling about making love to me, but I never understood what he meant until this dream.

I went back to kissing me, though harder this time, more commandingly. My hand moved from my thigh to my hair and I began to run my fingers through my hair as I kissed me. I enjoyed the feel of it and the way I was moaning into my mouth. Somehow, my voice never sounded quite so deep as it did in the dream. What was truly disturbing was that when I moaned in answer, the voice coming out of my throat was strange. It was higher and harsher, yet familiar all the same. Anyhow, as I began to kiss me more forcefully, my grip on my hair tightened and I pulled slightly. Normally, I enjoy having this done to me because it feels good but the enjoyment from the giving rather than receiving end was more psychological. I was very aware of the fact that I was at my mercy. Never have I wanted to escape from such a grip on my hair but I realized then that if I had needed to escape it might be very difficult. Still, the thought was very arousing to me and I knew I was developing an erection."

"You really made love to yourself in a dream?" Finrod intoned incredulously. To his chagrin, his voice was lower and huskier than normal. He knew he shouldn't be aroused by a description of his cousin yet he was.

At this and perhaps his question as well Fingon chuckled, "Yes, but be patient I haven't gotten there yet. Something else I found interesting was that mixed with this need for domination there was adoration. I began a remove the dressing gown from my body and as I did, I kissed me all over. My kisses were soft and my purpose was to let me know I worshiped every inch of me. I relished the way my skin felt like silk under my lips and I breathed in my scent and drew comfort from it. I was loathed to turn away from me to take the vial of oil from the nightstand. When I turned back, I had turned on to my stomach and I felt like I was on fire, so great was my lust for me. One doesn't get to see himself from the back generally. I must say, I have a very nice rear. I wonder if it really looks that good in reality."

"It does," Finrod let slip. He clapped both hands over his mouth as though he feared what other strange words might lurk behind his teeth.

Again Fingon chuckled. "Relax, dear cousin. I know where your affections truly lie."

Finrod relaxed considerably and permitted Fingon to continue recounting his strange dream.

"I was...What was I doing? Oh, I was preparing myself. That wasn't too strange as I normally take care of the preparations on myself. Though, this time I was wearing a smooth, leather glove like Maitimo does on the few occasions when he prepares me."

"Wait, wait!" Finrod called a halt. "I fear I must interrupt your story once again. I am not at all acquainted the processes of love between two males. Why would Maitimo have to wear a glove when you do not and what special preparations are there?"

"Forgive me. I should have explained more clearly. An ellon has only one hole, as I'm sure you're aware." Fingon spared no detail in his explanation.

"I see..." Finrod mumbled, suddenly wishing he were receiving this from the more discrete Maedhros.

"And the reason Maitimo has to wear gloves," Fingon barreled on, "is so his fingernails don't cut me. You know how he lets them grow out longer to help him grip things better with one hand. Mmmm... He certainly grips me better when he..."

"Yes, I see," Finrod said more firmly in hopes that Fingon might move away from the grittier details of his love life.

"Well, as I was saying," Fingon continued, earning a small sigh of relief from Finrod, "I was preparing me and it was very different than usual both because I couldn't feel as well through the glove and I didn't have the usual urge to rush through the preparation stage. Normally, that urge is all the worse when I'm on top but I felt perfectly content to draw things out and I felt such a...sinister joy in teasing me endlessly. It drives me crazy when Maitimo does that especially because he does it so serenely with that smug Feanorian smirk on his face! Well, I couldn't tell what I looked like doing the teasing but I can tell you I didn't feel serene at all. I looked so wanton and debauched thrashing and moaning, the me on the bottom that is, that my blood felt like lava flowing through my veins and I wanted so much to grab me and ravage me but I keep telling myself to wait just a moment longer and then just a moment longer than that, on and on. Finally, I decided it was time to stop the games and take me. I pulled off the glove with my teeth and took me just how I like it: hard and fast. Then was the part that troubled me and the reason I told you of such an intimate dream."

Finrod nodded and straightened in his chair, feeling much more in his element in the role of wise adviser.

"Normally, I do enjoy it when Maitimo is rough with me, even when he scratches me or strikes me or pulls my hair or even when he bites hard enough to draw blood. The pain adds to the pleasure of the experience. Maitimo does those things because he knows they will please me, but when I was doing them to my dream-self, a savage, possessive desire overwhelmed me. I enjoyed hurting me. I savored the flavor of my own blood. Never before have I felt like that and I, my true, waking self, was terrified. Why would I have those emotions? What does it all mean, Findarato?

Finrod thought on his cousin's dream. An idea had been nagging at his mind, more a memory really and the time had come to test his theory. "In your dream, did you ever do anything with both hands?"

"Now that you mention it, no, I don't think I did, but what does that have to do with anything?" Fingon answered, disgruntled.

"Everything, dear cousin," Finrod answered, feeling much more relaxed now that he had a simple explanation for Fingon's curious dream. "When my mother would go to Alqualonde alone, I remember my father would always say that he would miss sharing her dreams when he bid her goodbye."

"That's lovely, but what does it have to do with my dream last night?"

"Everything, dear cousin."

"Would you stop saying that? I know you have an answer so just tell me!"

Finrod chuckled heartily but obliged, "The dream you had last night was not your own."

"Whose was it then?"

Fingon and Finrod jumped at the voice behind them. Maedhros glided over to an empty chair. "My apologies for being late."

"Don't worry yourself," Finrod assured the new-comer, having regained his composure. "I told the servants to let you sleep until you woke this morning seeing as you must be tired after such a long journey."

"I suspected as much," Maedhros muttered before taking a slice of bacon from the half-empty platter that most certainly had been full but a moment ago. "What's this about Findekano's dream that wasn't Findekano's?"

"I was just about to say," Finrod picked up where he'd left off, "that Findekano was not wandering his own dreamland last night. He was paying a visit to yours, Maitimo."

Maedhros narrowly avoided choking on the last slice of bacon, "You didn't see that dream, did you, Findekano?"

Fingon's brain was busily processing this new information. "Well, if in the one you're thinking of, I was ravaged senseless, then yes, that one. So I was you. It would explain quite a bit."

While Fingon remained pensive, Maedhros' countenance reflected a mixture of shame and despair.

"Do not be so disheartened," Finrod offered. "This means that you two have an exceptionally strong bond."

"Be that as it may," Maedhros replied, "There were parts of my mind that I wished to keep hidden and one of those parts has been revealed."

Fingon looked at his spouse in astonishment, "You wanted to hide them even from me, Maitimo?"

"Especially from you. I worry that if you know the true depths of darkness within my mind, it would frighten you away. I couldn't bear loosing you, Findekano. I'd go mad without you."

Fingon sighed in exasperation. "It'll take more than sadistic tenancies to scare me off. I knew what I was getting into when I married you. While it's true that I do not like feeling that way, I like that you feel that way."

Maedhros's eyes lit up at this. "Really? Go on."

Go on, Fingon did, "To the ardor of making love has been added an element of danger, the thrill of battle right in my bedroom. Let's go make your dream a reality."

Maedhros turned to Finrod, "How goes the moat dredging, cousin?"

"How dare you ignore me, you wicked fiend!" Fingon griped and lobbed a biscuit at Maedhros's head.

"Later, Dear. We must be proper princes for a while yet," Maedhros responded.

Finrod chuckled. The foreplay had begun for certain and three could play at this game. Sharing a conspiratorial grin with Maedhros he answered the question, "Why, it's going quite well. How kind of you to ask."

So there it is. It's only my second fic (first here) in the Silmarillion fandom and my first time writing in quite a while. Of course, I just had to write something outlandish. Advice (and encouragement) is welcome as always.