[ Head lolling with the last shivers of pleasure, he climbs off Adar to flop down beside him and stretch out. An absent wave of his hand cleans up their spend and he rolls over, the golden hair Adar loves to play with spilling over a grotesquely scared shoulder, an arm warm as ambers draping across the uruk's middle. Sauron gets comfortable, cosy, and nips at Adar's neck where his pulse is slowing. ]
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What a way to ensure favouritism ...