A Question of Race, Part One
The dwarf lay on his back, staring at the ceiling with a smile of pure contentment on his face; the elf was pressed tightly against him, unwilling to loose any opportunity for skin to touch skin. After a moment, Legolas spoke drowsily against his lover's bicep.
"Gimli," he said, "I have a question for you. I am trying to understand the differences between our races better."
"Mmmm?" Gimli asked, too lazy to form a coherent sentence.
Legolas reached for Gimli's hand and pulled it closer to his waist. "Are all dwarves such sinfully amazing lovers, or is it just you?"
...and the requested sequel...
Gimli blinked. Sometimes it was hard to tell if Legolas was joking or not. "Well, I haven't had the experience needed to answer that," he replied warily.
Legolas sighed.
Gimli's brow crinkled. "Now, elf," he said sternly. "I know how committed you are to improving communication between our two races, but I don't think you should attempt to conduct research on this question."
Legolas stretched, rather like a cat, and collapsed so contentedly against his lover that Gimli wouldn't have been surprised to hear him purring. "I guess I'll never know," he sighed, not sounding in the least bit disappointed.
