[ Elves have always had the strangest ideas about sex: only for those in love, purely to beget children (if blessed enough, he supposes), never treating it like what it is. A raw, carnal truth that every creature on Middle-Earth felt, the consuming hunger that doubtless drove even the vaunted sociopath Fëanor to father so many brats. When first indulging in the pleasures of the flesh (the non-edible kind) a surprised Mairon had wanted more and not even considered how it might go against Eru's design because it had all felt so good. Twisted as the uruk were by Sauron in later years, he nevertheless felt he was doing them something of a favour in laying all those stuffy old sentiments bare, and as a result the armies of Angband swelled in its bowels, because he was right.
There is no less pleasure in unbridled lust than the sweetest romance of the age.
Adar is beautiful as he lets go of any pretences, the crystal nails of Sauron running through dark locks to rake their way down ruined flesh of a back and seek out every scar, every mark that was not there in the former elf's beginning, the opposite of disgusted. No doubt elves, pure and pretty, would recoil, but Sauron pushes down the last scrap of clothing and arches his hips to feel him, hard and almost as hot, cock-to-cock in a heady grind that has the Maia's fana shuddering up for more. He tosses his head back and lets his elven body react as it will, riding the swell of pleasure. A brief thought has Adar's clothing whisk away like black smoke to drop on the floor, baring all of him, and Sauron kisses him urgently like he can't get enough of the taste. Against a jaw, he moans. ]
I know what you need, [ he writhes up against him, all smooth soft skin and yearning beauty, ] take it. You cannot break me, prakhumash.
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There is no less pleasure in unbridled lust than the sweetest romance of the age.
Adar is beautiful as he lets go of any pretences, the crystal nails of Sauron running through dark locks to rake their way down ruined flesh of a back and seek out every scar, every mark that was not there in the former elf's beginning, the opposite of disgusted. No doubt elves, pure and pretty, would recoil, but Sauron pushes down the last scrap of clothing and arches his hips to feel him, hard and almost as hot, cock-to-cock in a heady grind that has the Maia's fana shuddering up for more. He tosses his head back and lets his elven body react as it will, riding the swell of pleasure. A brief thought has Adar's clothing whisk away like black smoke to drop on the floor, baring all of him, and Sauron kisses him urgently like he can't get enough of the taste. Against a jaw, he moans. ]
I know what you need, [ he writhes up against him, all smooth soft skin and yearning beauty, ] take it. You cannot break me, prakhumash.