[ Triumph is only slightly sweeter than sex and he basks in both as Adar comes hard, arching back against him so he has an entirely willing lover to spill into. Sauron tips his head back on a choked noise when he gives in and lets himself come with Adar buried deep, dirtying their bed with his spend in messy wet stains that smear against his belly, bucking back to eke out every second of it as he shivers and writhes beneath him on the silky black sheets. How perfect, how hot and possessive. This is his Adar, his creation that he honed and perfected and who says he hates it but will never, not really. He is Sauron's forever.
Turning his head on the pillows when he finally sinks down, he hums and golden hair frames his flushed face, pointed ears pink with exertion. As an extra treat, he adds in Quenya, ]
I am sorry for our quarrel.
[ Which is as close as he can abide getting to an apology. ]
no subject
Turning his head on the pillows when he finally sinks down, he hums and golden hair frames his flushed face, pointed ears pink with exertion. As an extra treat, he adds in Quenya, ]
I am sorry for our quarrel.
[ Which is as close as he can abide getting to an apology. ]