but don't make me your enemy

[eyefire]

( from here. )


[ Adar is left alone for a night. Sauron finds him in the obsidian hallways of the palace, the parts he is allowed to frequent as a captain, standing at the end of a corridor when Adar turns. His robes are dark, simmering with a soft burn at the ends of his robes, and his eyes are the only light of any worth, fixed on his uruk. ]

Comments

[callmeadar]

He is. [He agrees, not rushing to move by any means. He presses a kiss against his jaw.]

Do I feel like furniture to you as well or is it because he is young? [He has been wondering.]

[eyefire]

Why would you feel like furniture?

[ WHAT DOES THAT MEAN, what in the name of Mandos's Halls does his son mean??? ]

[callmeadar]

I don't know. He said that he can no more sense me than the chairs or something. I wasn't focused on the details, I was thinking that he called me both ugly and furniture in under two hours. [It was a little bit of an ego hit.]

[eyefire]

[ Sorry, but that is pretty funny and he chuckles to hear it. Pets his hair to soothe him. ]

He is used to Seeing me as I am, as you cannot. It is like ... touching running water in comparison to feeling the wind blow through a desert, ten times as sensual. He is not yet accustomed to only knowing me and Morgoth that way. You are somewhat ... harder to read, when you are so very much made of flesh and bone, unlike us.

What elves think of the depth of dwarves, he thinks of you. If that helps.

[callmeadar]

We have fëa though, and mine was born under the trees... I know the unseen, or I once did.

[Oh Well.] At least I'm pretty furniture again, I'll only half confuse him this time.

[eyefire]

You are not Maiar, love. Your spirit is very ...

[ He doesn't know how to describe it. ]

I do not have the words to explain what it was like before anything was.

[callmeadar]

Small? [He is not easy to offend, really, it only hurt when it came from their son out of the blue.]

Musical, I assume. But no, I could not guess nor expect you to explain that. [He snuggles even closer to him, resting comfortably there.]

I suppose I thought. Well, he is a child, but any fëa should have some substance to feel to those who can, surely?

[eyefire]

Yes, but putting you next to me is like placing a candle to the sun. He cannot See very well, as I said. Understand?

And it was not always musical.

[callmeadar]

That is true. You are quite warm. [Was that the point? No. Is Adar using it as an excuse to settle against him as much as he can? Yes.] He's a clever boy, regardless of if I can sneak attack him to tickle him.

Oh, before anything-anything, as in before the Song? [He might be cheeky and a little too prone to breaking rules but he also retained his curiosity, especially now when he felt safe, nuzzled into the warmth that protected him as much as it brought him strife.]

[eyefire]

[ He nods to the clever boy bit, huffing as Adar grows impertinent ... but without reprimand because Sauron admittedly indulges all curiosities. ]

Before the song I awoke to the other Ainur and The One. But it was silent, as silence is when it does not know sound and is nothingness. And then as we sang, we knew each other.

[callmeadar]

[A silent thank you is pressed into the kiss that claims Sauron's jaw, then nuzzles up to tease his earlobe with his teeth. He cannot truly understand such things, but he does enjoy the intimacy of being told, regardless of how small and stupid he might be in comparison to his lover or even his son. His hand cups the other side of Sauron's face, his thumb echoing his mouth's earlier path along his throat and jaw.]

It is hard to imagine. But you are magnificent. Now, and surely then. [He's willing to claim so without knowing so as he nips at his earlobe.] I can feel you even when we are apart. You always go with me...

[eyefire]

Mmm, when I turn my Eyes on you I can see your thoughts wherever you may be ... but I do not wish to do that to you, not all the time. You were forged so well.

[ Half the fun is giving Adar his autonomy, within reason. Sauron reaches down with a soft-palmed hand to stroke his uruk's cock as tender kisses tease at the maia's ear pulling approvingly sweet noises from the lieutenant, starting to get him hard again. It is unelven, what he did to make Adar yearn so much for physical release, but he will never regret it and instead rewards him for falling so far and willingly from grace by spreading his legs in invitation again. ]

You belong with me, always ...

[callmeadar]

[Within reason seemed to vary but Adar usually found himself comfortable enough to think for himself. Not always. But like now, in this space even with Sauron's naked body stretched against his he found himself thinking his own thoughts, following his own desires.] It isn't that I feel like you watch me, always. [He says, his tongue tracing along the curve of that perfect elven ear.] It is that I feel you, the memory, the reality, I don't know. You are always with me, even when your mind is elsewhere. [It's a dangerous thing to admit, perhaps, and a devoted thing for he doesn't sound disturbed or haunted by it. Just that it is something that is and cannot be revoked by time or distance or circumstance. Sauron's handprints would always remain on him, body and soul.

He would always think of him when the world got too quiet.

Adar moans when he is touched, each confession of love or devotion or acknowledgement of how much he really did belong here, to his master, seems to bring him closer and closer to the baser creature he had been sculpted into. All those delicate elven sensibilities put aside, no longer restrained from moving or reacting too quickly. He rocks into that smooth palm, teeth now catching at his ear instead of only gentle lips. Feeling the shift in position, Adar rocks even sharper into his hand, trailing one of his own down Sauron's body and memorising each line and muscle as though he did not already know them and have them charted with his lips. He whimpers softly.]

Only yours.

[eyefire]

[ He looks immensely pleased with hearing how tormented by thoughts of himself his general is, free hand coming up to cup Adar's face in surprise as he traces a sharp cheekbone. He continues to stroke him, guiding him into a deep kiss where Sauron moans low and happy, and teases absently-mindedly around the tip of that cock with a tight, sweaty fist. He warms up far more, simmering with delight, and hooks a knee on a hip to bring Adar into his body again with near seamless faltering, giving him tight heat and soft hands sweeping over his limbs. ]

Adar ... [ Sauron sounds so gratified by his uruk, spirit and flesh devoted alike. ] My darling, my own elf ...

[callmeadar]

[It feels as though they may never get out of this bed again and Adar isn't even sure that he cares. He feels whole, here, their lips joined like their bodies ached to do, hands touching or roaming, the sweet victory of feeling warm and wanted. His cock is hard, aching to feel more than that magnificently clever hand around him, a wish that is granted before he can think to ask or claim him himself. The moan that falls from his lips is unbridled and wanton as his hips begin to move again, somehow not exhausted even now.]

My love. [He says softly.] My lord. [Morgoth might have ruled the roost, but Adar paid him no heed. All matters of importance had no higher place to go to him than Sauron. All his love and desire and devotion were fixed on him as well.]

[eyefire]

[ Adar has been punished thoroughly and now he gets his rewards for sticking out what pain he suffered, considering the breadth of agony it is only fair (and Sauron is, he will argue he loves properly ordering the way of things) that he gets to be taken to similar heights of pleasure.

Sauron moans and clenches down, thighs tensing, hair scrubbing the pillows as he wraps his arms around him and rides that perfectly long, thick cock and loses his mind again. Lewd sounds leave him and he digs his heels into Adar's ass to keep him going at a steady, deep pace, grinding it to make the lieutenant of Angband moan loudly. ]

Adar! Ah, ah, ahh ... ! [ Filth, fond and affectionate as they fuck for the sake of feeling how close they can be. ] So good, so big ... oh, fuck, my only ...

[callmeadar]

[His hand has to fist the sheets again to keep him focused enough to move. He feels good like he could fly or float away, as though he is untethered from all reality except where their bodies meet. He tilts their position just slightly to prop Sauron up to a better angle so even a maia will see stars despite the high, dark roof that looms far above them.

Despite the steady constant movement of his hips, tireless and in no rush, his breath is uneven and ragged, tested by his own desire and control, even more so every time Sauron speaks. Eventually, he picks up the pace, unable to abide by being patient forever. Desire is so thick in him it feels like it throbs in every vein in his body. Moans fall from his lips easily, gasps, groans as he teases himself by making sure he lasts. His grip is vice-like on Sauron's hip and in the sheets, nails digging into both as he fucks him.]

[eyefire]

[ No one else, not even Melkor often, gets to see what Sauron looks like being fucked raw in his own bed, hair cast out like a halo as he clings to his scarred-up lover like he never saw anyone so perfect in his life. His cries hitch as Adar fucks him so well, turning into keening, and he digs his nails into Adar's back as he tightens up around him. ]

H-Harder, and slower.

[ The torture is too sweet to rush, kissing him as he controls the pace of their lips to a languid grind. ]

Adar, oh Adar ... That's right, just like that. [ His laugh is playful and soft, for once, kisses smiling and arms looped about Adar's neck. ] Good boy, such a good boy ...

[callmeadar]

[Though he doesn't want to slow at all, it doesn't take Sauron's strong hands or legs to slow Adar down again to a more reasonable pace, more effort put behind each thrust. He slows the moment the request is issued, as naturally as breathing.

The pace allows him to catch his breath too, though it is still heavy between their kisses, every fibre of his being seems to hum with the desire that fills him as he sinks into his lover, again and again, his cheeks warm and dark from exertion, perhaps, or maybe it is the light way Sauron's laughter plays across his skin. Such a rare sound, it sings to parts of him that nothing else could. The only thing that (briefly) makes his well-practised motions pause for a moment is that good boy, it catches him off guard, all the heat in his cheeks suddenly flaming like an inferno as he moans his master's name, wishing he could hide his face.]

Fuck.

[eyefire]

[ He thought he remembered a spark like that from before, hah. Cupping Adar's cheek with a gentle hand, he pets down the slope of his back to show him how he approves of the way he follows orders so well and runs a thumb across his elf's lower lip, smearing the slick of their kisses. ]

You like hearing how good you are, don't you? No one is as well-behaved as you, my love, you are so reliable and lovely. You do such a wonderful job of everything I ask, sweet boy ...

Say it, love. Say you're my good boy.

[callmeadar]

[He once had been truly good, a long time ago before the trees died and darkness took root in him and so many of the Noldor. The praise tickles something in the back of his mind, like a memory of a desire he cannot quite grasp or put into words. The shadow of a need, ancient and primal that he cannot shake.

No more did he think he was actually good. Better, maybe, but the bar was literally in hell when it came to who he had to compare himself to. He is angry and broken and twisted strangely in a way that only feels whole when he is with Sauron. He doesn't even think he is that obedient to Sauron. He takes liberties, as his master had been quick to point out. Thinks highly of himself. Knows his worth in a way that makes him dangerous.

Yet the words still work on him.]

I– [He wants to protest, to squirm, to pull away but he is frozen there, looking at his master, his lover, the closest thing he had left right now to a friend.] I am your boy– [he tries, then swallows, cheeks burning hotter still. He feels like a furnace set to explode.] Your good boy.

[eyefire]

Yessss ...

[ He rewards him with a kiss, searing and fond. Then slaps him on the ass, grinning up through their nuzzling. ]

Astride my lap, now. I want to have you and that backside you keep so tight for me.

[ He will half-pull Adar into position, wanting him terribly, and run inexplicably slick fingers down the cleft of his ass at the first opportunity, seeking. ]

[callmeadar]

[He moans, he feels like he's going to lose all control at that one little slap which barely stings but somehow makes his cock ache even more than it does as if it could will itself to become even harder to is verging on release whether Adar means to allow himself that or not.

It feels downright animalistic and wild. He barely is able to think, but he can listen and he does what he is told. He pulls free of his master with one last slow slide before he moves so he is on his lap instead, guided by firm hands into just the spot he is wanted. His chest rises and falls in an uneven rhythm as his cock strains against the feeling of the air, he shifts back as much as he can towards the inquisitive hand that touches him.]

Please. Have me. Claim me.

[eyefire]

Patience ...

[ Sauron sinks a finger into him without prelude, slick and thin to get him prepped easily and as deep as he can reach, watching the way that pleasure plays out on his uruk's face. Once he judges him able he adds a second and fucks him as a real lover would, for who is to say Sauron isn't one? He coos and praises him all the while, rubbing over his sweet spot and using his free hand to squeeze the base of that stiff cock. ]

I will claim you, do not fear. I want you. You are my greatest achievement, my love.

[callmeadar]

[Paitience was a thing for when he is not slowly losing his last bit of control, the ability to make his own body listen to him rushing away like sand beneath his feet as the tide pulls back. He aches with anticipation as a finger explores him, and rocks backward against it, encouragingly, even more so when it is two. He wants him so badly that his ache is a real and persistent thing. This was one way no one else had had him in long centuries. This was truly only for Sauron, his body supple and eager to the point of impatience.

He is a mess teetering on his own downfall as Sauron fucks him with his fingers. His nails bite into his own thigh, hard enough to draw blood as he tries to win back the ability to be good and to wait but he is just a whimpering mess, his sweet nothings turned to quiet begging.]