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Tease me through the night

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Annatar should be smarter than getting himself into situations like this.

This was the master bedroom of the fortress, the Lord of Eregion had claimed. The place Annatar had blinded, swayed, seduced, and finally wed the last Fëanorian walking these shores in, thereby binding him to this fair shape forever as he would one day bind his whole kin and all of Middle-earth.

Right now, it was Annatar, being overthrown and bound though, and that was turning from mildly infuriating into annoying and maybe even slightly unsettling more by the minute.

Perhaps, Annatar mused, struggling against the metal shackles around his wrists and ankles, he was teaching Celebrimbor too well in the art of melting magic into forging. No matter how often he used the superior strength of his current physical shape to pull and rip the offending material keeping him tied to the bed apart, it always melted back together faster than he could try to slip out of it, an ever-present sizzle of dissolving and reshaping that disturbed his focus too much to come up with a spell of his own to break it.

Not that he could have muttered one right now, with his mouth pried wide open by a large gap, the spidery legs of which were digging harshly into his cheeks and jaw - Celebrimbor’s latest invention for pleasure times. Celebrimbor liked to try out his new toys on his husband first, and Annatar was hardly in a position to protest right now.

At least not vocally - he was making very sure to let his lover know via their marriage bond what he thought about this degrading position and the triumphant, hungry smile on Celebrimbor’s plushy lips as his husband watched him from the corner, stroking his half-hard cock through the leather of his pants.

Unfortunately, Celebrimbor was also very skilled at ignoring things he didn’t want to hear. Mostly, admittedly, to Annatar’s advantage and sometimes to his deep pleasure - he had got to enjoy this necessary form of relationship and physical attachment a lot more than in truth he should have; since he’d lost his actual Lord and Master, he’d come to miss losing himself in the more mundane joys that having a bodily shape could bring, and Celebrimbor was fine enough a lover.

At least when he hadn’t decided to put a ring on Annatar’s rock-hard erection and leave him unsatisfied on the bed for Celebrimbor to watch.

Stop this right now, I demand it, Annatar snarled at his husband in his mind.


He knew he’d just made a stupid mistake when a thick eyebrow wandered up his lover’s high forehead, the grin on his lips turning into something almost predatory. He made another useless attempt of bursting his chains, only for the muscles in his arms to tense and cramp badly enough for him to scream out.

A sound that became a moan thanks to the touch of Celebrimbor’s lips on one of his hardened nipples, the well-known, teasing lick of a long tongue that pushed through one of the large, silver rings his husband had pierced his flesh with a while ago, singing the material close then so it would not come apart save on his command.

Maybe that should have given Annatar the first hint that his elvish husband - known as a gentle, wise ruler, known for being nothing like the lesser sane parts of his family - was in some regards a lot more like him than he could care for.

Annatar keened, discomfort forgotten for a moment when Celebrimbor slowly tugged the ring on his chest tight, raising his head with the shining silver between his teeth which should not be a sight as hot as it was. His eyes, having almost the same color, were never leaving Annatar’s while he pulled his flesh taut, more and more, testing his limits until Annatar tried to chase the cruel-pleasurable touch, only to be stopped short by the restraints keeping him spread-eagle on the soft mattress.

“You don’t look like you’re in a position to make any demands right now, milord,” Celebrimbor murmured against his skin, more amused than condescending.

He stretched out his wicked tongue to lick a long stripe over Annatar’s flushed, sweat-covered skin, nibbling on his collarbone, on his jaw, finally tracing the swollen line of his stretched lips. “You look lovely like this, you know. All ready and waiting for me to use you …” His hand was inside his breeches now, and Annatar thought - hoped - he was about to finally get that nice piece of flesh there out and feed it to him. Then this game would be over very soon. Celebrimbor was usually very inclined to surrender to things Annatar was doing with his mouth.

Which was probably exactly why he didn’t give in to his yearning but straightened up again and leaned over to his bedside table, getting something that was out of Annatar’s sight and too small for him to make out in Celebrimbor’s large hands … At least until calloused fingertips started tracing the pointed shapes of his ears and the world suddenly went silent.

Not completely silent, of course; Celebrimbor was not him, he would not use the proper means necessary to rupture someone’s eardrums even on swordpoint. But the firmly kneaded pieces of wax are enough to shut Annatar out to most sounds, safe for his own, too quick, too heavy breathing, and the sound of his embarrassingly fast-beating heart.


It was ridiculous, he told himself, if he’d wanted to and really concentrated on his abilities, he would be out of this humiliating situation in just a few seconds. But Celebrimbor wouldn’t like that, and he needed to keep Celebrimbor happy until he had what he wanted from him.

So he endured and waited and cursed his husband in his mind, his cock still rock-hard for some reason he couldn’t fathom. A degrading proof of how much this weakish, lesser form of his really enjoyed the attention, arching up when a warm hand started to touch his erection, just a few languid, light strokes that frustrated Annatar more than anything.


Before long, those long, thick fingers wandered deeper, a shudder of heat and approval rippling through their marriage bond when Celebrimbor found him loose and oiled. Annatar knew what his lover liked in the rare nights when they had time for this, and he had always been quite efficient.

Now he wondered if that foresight had been a mistake, because Celebrimbor had one of his countless toys in his hand from somewhere already before Annatar had done more than ride three of those naughtily skilled fingers, needy groans on his lips that he could only feel not hear.

Thick metal was stretching him open just as uncompromising as his mouth had been earlier, and for a moment, he thought, he would come from that alone, after far too many minutes of teasing. But Celebrimbor wouldn’t let him, of course, Celebrimbor grabbed him too tight in the perfect spot, and Annatar ended up dry-humping him instead, sobbing and pleading in his husband’s mind, screaming for more and less at the same time.

I really like you like this, Celebrimbor whispered in his head, turned on, sure, but there was also something else in his voice, something Annatar wasn’t quite sure he wanted or liked, and he couldn’t help but wonder for a moment if maybe he’d challenged his luck a little, trying to corrupt someone so pure for his needs. All your holes spread open and waiting for me to fuck them … I could get used to this.


Annatar groaned a protest, his untouched cock bopping and jerking from his need for release, his wrists and ankles raw and bleeding from his ceaseless, useless attempts to free himself.

And then his body suddenly went stock-still, because Celebrimbor had obviously decided, he hadn’t humiliated him enough yet and spread a thick black cloth over his face, tying it behind his head, braiding it into Annatar’s hair so he couldn’t just shake it off.

He wasn’t pleading anymore. He wasn’t sure he was breathing. There was nothing all of a sudden, no desire, no heat throbbing in his loins, no yearning for his height, no anger, not even the dangerous, lenient kind of affection he felt for that elf who, in the end, was nothing more but another of his very talented but expendable toys, much like a beloved pet.

That pet had learned a few really nasty tricks though in the last few years.

Annatar could handle being used and fucked and even bound for a little while if it pleased his husband enough for Celebrimbor to tell him another secret after another mind-blowing orgasm. Enough for this naive, trustful fool to give himself to Annatar even another bit more. He could also deal with only communicating in his mind if he had to.

Darkness, he couldn’t deal with. Darkness was too much like the void that he had lost his Lord to. He wasn’t afraid of what he might see there, who might be waiting there for him. The void was empty, at least the parts that Annatar could reach. When he was in the dark, shut away from the world, then the only person around was the worst beast of them all. His own wretched, tormented, lost soul.

There was none of this he could have told his husband without opening up the last, firmly locked part of his thoughts to him though, thereby revealing himself as the doom that had long ensnared Celebrimbor before it was time. So he lay still with his eyes wide open, unflinching, stiff, as his husband’s hand rubbed over his sore arms and chest and legs, trying to smooth out the echoes of fear and reluctance throbbing like a heart encased in ice for safe-keeping in their bond.

Then wet warmth suddenly closed around the white-dripping head of Annatar’s cock, and the world fell back into place with a hoarse scream of lust on his lips. He sobbed and bucked and started wriggling in his bonds again, but that awful second of being lost and in danger to reveal all of him before he was allowed to, was over, and he hated himself for how thankful he was for it.

As he spilled down his lover’s throat, screaming his name in unintelligible syllables, he wondered if maybe in truth it wasn’t him, being in way too deep.