[It's a trick he should think, because he knows Sauron about as well as anyone ever could without being a maiar or Morgoth. Yet, there, in that moment, as they move together, it feels real. It feels more loving and true than any touch he's had in long centuries. He enjoys the scrape of nails over his now pristine flesh, the dark pink lines Sauron leaves in his wake. He all but purrs at the compliments that are woven into their lovemaking, appreciation pouring from his lips in soft sighs, broken moans, little whimpers of Sauron, master, please and a dozen other sweet nothings that murmur into the warm air above the bed.
It is almost like they are one being, like Adar could slip his skin as easily as the maia and be one with him. He cannot, but it feels like he might, like he could.] Please. [Please, please, please. He wants him, he cannot say or understand how much just that he does. Every fibre of his being sings of it as his hips rise to meet his masters, wanting to be filled by his cock as much as he wanted to stay in this warmth forever. For the moment, he couldn't remember why he had ever run. Nothing exists beyond Sauron, and he forgets anything ever had.]
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It is almost like they are one being, like Adar could slip his skin as easily as the maia and be one with him. He cannot, but it feels like he might, like he could.] Please. [Please, please, please. He wants him, he cannot say or understand how much just that he does. Every fibre of his being sings of it as his hips rise to meet his masters, wanting to be filled by his cock as much as he wanted to stay in this warmth forever. For the moment, he couldn't remember why he had ever run. Nothing exists beyond Sauron, and he forgets anything ever had.]