[Mairon is known to him but it has always been such forbidden fruit, even when he saw it was not Sauron who pulled him close or enjoyed the innocent, simple things they sometimes shared. One did not use names they were not given leave to, no matter how well they were known in legend. No matter how they tasted when he imagined them rolling off his lips.
He hates calling him Sauron when they are like this, he usually lingers on whatever sweet nothing or title he can grasp. So when his words curl against his skin, Adar almost feels as though he had left his body even as he is kept so very aware of it.]
Mairon, [he repeats, eager to know if it sounds as good as he imagines to say it.] Mairon. [He moans, teetering on the edge of release.] I love you Mairon. [The admirable, the adored, Adar turns his head to chase his lips, wanting more than anything to be as joined with him as he knows how in this moment.]
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He hates calling him Sauron when they are like this, he usually lingers on whatever sweet nothing or title he can grasp. So when his words curl against his skin, Adar almost feels as though he had left his body even as he is kept so very aware of it.]
Mairon, [he repeats, eager to know if it sounds as good as he imagines to say it.] Mairon. [He moans, teetering on the edge of release.] I love you Mairon. [The admirable, the adored, Adar turns his head to chase his lips, wanting more than anything to be as joined with him as he knows how in this moment.]