Thorin's Word A Day

by kkolmakov

I have subscribed to "A Word A Day" to challenge myself and my writing. They give you a word and a quote each day. I will produce a one-shot, sometimes just a few sentences around each. Original Thorin and Wren *No Infringement Intended* Ratings and moods will vary. Timeline #1.

21. Spoof

Spoof

noun:

1. A light, good-humored imitation; parody.

2. A hoax or a prank.

verb tr.:

1. To satirize gently.

2. To fool using a hoax or a prank.

You gently touch the tip with the pulp of your finger, and it twitches. You chuckle. He lifts a brow. "It is not a toy, my lady." You give him a toothy grin. "It is exactly what it is, my Lord." You run the finger down the length and laugh at the delightful jerk, all length definitely reacting to your attentions. You gently blow, and he growls. "Do not forget, my Lord, today is my day. Today I decide what to do." "And your decision is to do nothing and just to stare at it, my Queen?" He sounds peevish and drops his head back into pillows. "I am doing something, I am proving a theory." "Do I want to know?" You lick the tip of your finger and run it up and down. Then you slightly push it on one side. Naturally, it bounces back in the initial position. "What is the theory, my lady?" "I will tell you once it is proven, but partially it has to do with an assumption that it is as cantankerous and impatient as the Dwarf it is attached to." He cannot help it, he chuckles. "It is not cantankerous, it is very pleasant to have dealings with." "Have you ever tried to, my Lord?" You feign indignation. "Quite a lot until I met you, my lady. Possibly on everyday basis." "That is different, my Lord. You did not have to handle its complete inability to yield." "Is it not a virtue for such thing?" He cocks a brow again. "Not after a few hours, my Lord. At some point it just becomes hazardous." You caress it with the tips of your fingers for a little bit more, and it swells even more. With a certain amount of blood reaching it, it acquires a peculiar curve. As if slightly nodding towards the King's left shoulder. You tilt your head to match the angle. "That is enough," he grabs you under your arms and pulls you on top of him. His large palm lies on your buttock and he pointedly pushes your hips in the direction of the topic of discussion. You guffaw. "See, I stand correct. Cantankerous and impatient. And as I initially assumed, my King did not last ten minutes without imposing his will." "Live with it," he catches your mouth, and you murmur lowering your hips on its length, "Oh, I am intending to."

A THOUGHT FOR TODAY:

A pedestal is as much a prison as any small space.

-Gloria Steinem, activist, editor (b. 1934)