eyefire | but don't make me your enemy

[ 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 ...

[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.

[ 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.

[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.

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. ]

[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.

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.

[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.]

Hush, hush ...

[ How charming, that helpless desire. He sits up and brings Adar with him so they can recline a little against the pillowed headboard, gathering him up for a kiss and a stroke all over a scratched thigh as Sauron removes his fingers, giving Adar a moment's reprieve to just be adored. In the next, he is being guided up and forward so that Sauron can kiss his way down his throat and fit the blunt head of his cock to a slick hole, helping him find the best angle to sit down.

He hasn't put anything on his cock, letting only what lubes up that tight ass assist and a slight burn to edge on pain as he fucks him full, slowly, inch by inch until Adar is playing bitch for him (for only him, he proudly thinks). Sauron groans into his lover's shoulder, just petting over Adar's legs and rump as he glories in having him. ]

Good boy, that's it ...

[Please no longer falls from his lips but it is in his eyes, in the hunger that shades them darker. It is in the way he moves toward him, no hesitation or question just silent pleas and the desire to press as much of their skin together as can be managed. The kisses steal softer, pleased moans at least which aren't so heavy with need, or they do until his cock presses against his entrance, hot and familiar and long missed.

It aches as he sinks down on him, every inch taken is hot and stings just a little, but he doesn't care now and he won't care later when he inevitably feels it as he's doing something more mundane. All he is is a pile of want, whimpering softly as he gives himself up to Sauron's care. Good boy makes him clench around his lovers cock, butterflies flooding his stomach as the words make him feel.... well. Some kind of way.]

[ He slides a palm into the small of Adar's back and shows him how to lean forward on him, lifting his arms around Sauron's neck so he can sit there and be fucked and enjoy it. ]

There now, pretty thing, I have you.

[ When he starts to move it's just as slow as before to give him time to adjust, but every stroke sinks right to the base and whenever he finds that prostate, ahh, good boy, he lets Adar bounce a little. ]

[Adar is as glad for the further touching as he is to bury his face against his lovers neck, little moans and sighs and whimpers lost against smooth, hot skin as he is slowly fucked; each time Sauron rubs against that spot within him his little sounds turn into true moans, his cock leaking precum and achingly hard.]

My Lord [He moans, somewhere between praise and complaint.]

Edited 2022-12-23 14:58 (UTC)

[ He kisses him lingeringly, swallowing down each moan as they make love in his beautiful black bed, secure in the belly of the Iron Hells. Sauron brushes through Adar's hair and down his back, guiding him into the rhythm they both want that has far less patience attached, hard and quick to give his uruk some relief.

His lips glide by a temple, fond. His hand curls around Adar's cock, snug and wet. ]

My name is Mairon, my love.

[ Sauron is not the part of him that adores Adar, or not wholly. ]

[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.]

Mmmm, my elf ...

[ His very own, carved from weakness and made so strong, so durable. He strokes Adar's cock where it smears precome over Sauron's midriff and twists little corkscrews with his slick palm over the crown, the swollen flesh there so soft and needy that he can't imagine why he was mad at him to begin with. Adar is so wanton and clearly his, his elf-uruk will never find this kind of satisfaction in the arms of anyone else, never while riding another lover.

Bucking hard, close to coming, Sauron rests their foreheads together and looks at him with all his power turned on perceiving Adar, peering through meat and bone to the spirit trapped within where he speaks to him. I See you. I See your mind. All the fury and love, the lust, wrapped up inexorably together in a knot. Sauron jerks him off faster, cock battering that prostate. You are mine, forever. My love. ]

Yours, [he agrees. There is no hesitation in him today, nothing surface level about the wanton way he presses not just his body but everything that makes Adar, that once was Arvarno, a softer and higher creature untouched by his hands. His love and desire for him goes so deeply it is as much a part of him as the light of the trees was. It was hard to imagine why this love so often turned sour.

Why Adar hangs on and does not let himself topple over into pleasure yet he does not know. Perhaps it is greed, the desire to have more of his lovers time, to continue to feel his cock sinking so far and hard into his body that he knows he will feel it for the rest of the day, maybe even tomorrow. He has it under control, until he doesn't. Until what should terrify him happens but instead makes him shivver and whimper Mairon so softly it could be from his lips or thought alone, bared to his lover like a book left open on a table.

You are mine, forever. drags him over the edge whether he wills it or not, no longer able to wait. It is hot and messy between their bodies, over his master's hand as he comes, his body clenching around that delightfully hard cock as he moans his name again and again until he unable to even coherently say Mairon or any kind of sweet nothing, the wind entirely knocked out of him.]

Edited 2022-12-24 17:22 (UTC)

[ Sauron's pleasure is tangled up in Adar's as per usual these days, he only wants to come when his lover is spilling a mess all over them and repays him in kind with hard thrusts, marking and claiming him as no other elf or orc will ever mistake. They will smell Sauron on Adar like honey on a bee, a part of his very essence and reason for existing.

He fucks him through that orgasm with relentless, pounding force, cradling him in his arms so that Adar can shiver and bounce on his cock as long as he needs to settle the craving knotted deep in his loins, a weight he will never be long without. Each sweet kiss Sauron bestows is a murmur of praise, breathless with release, and he sinks back into the bedding with Adar hugged close as he starts to doze while still buried inside.

Perfect, his not-husband. ]

Edited 2022-12-24 17:31 (UTC)

[By the time they settle back in the sheets, Adar is a trembling mess who has no will to speak or do anything really but nuzzle close to his lover, pressing soft kisses against his throat of praise that his own tongue feels too heavy to say aloud. He will understand. On some level, he always does.

He doesn't try to separate their bodies, either. He will take any extra ache that staying like this as long as Mairon wishes will cause and do so gladly. This is as much at home as he has felt since he said goodbye to his sister.

Eventually, Adar rests his head against his lover's chest where he can hear his heartbeat and lets himself drift, tired and aching and cosy here where no one ought to feel like that. When he dreams there is nothing but sweetness and heat, all aches and fears washed away by the connection they had rekindled.]

but don't make me your enemy

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