Sometime in the night, longing crept under his skin, and a state of distraction hounds him throughout his day.
He catches himself leaning closer to people as they speak, falling half in love with the expressions of strangers. A need for touch burns like an itch in the back of his thoughts; inconvenient and frustrating. He envies the errant brush of a hand across another’s throat, the silk hem of a constricting frock.
Seeking the relief of solitude, away from the storm of exchanged glances and wind-caught scents, he is driven to his chambers; but the yearning haunts him still, and he finds himself pacing like a lion in a cage, half hoping, half dreading that someone will intrude upon his suffering.
He could practically feel the need – the annoyance – the tension – that seemed to surround his brother that day. It would be highly uncouth to mention such a thing in front of their guests and servants however, and so Mairon says nothing….. even though it causes arousal and jealousy to burn within his chest. The thought that his beloved ‘brother’ might go to another to sate his need was simply unacceptable.
When Sauron left, Mairon waited only for a moment to assure their guests that everything was fine with the Lord, and that he would happily check up on him – Make sure that he wasn’t ill – before following Sauron to his chambers.
He had to think now… How would he be able to guarantee that Sauron would find him arousing? Wider hips seemed like a good choice, and so he let his grow the slightest bit to give himself a more feminine curve. His brother loved chubby humans (for some reason) so some softness might be good, though that wouldn’t be noticed unless Sauron TOUCHED him.
Finally he raised a hand to knock on his brother’s door, practically purring as he spoke.
“Are you well, brother? Our guests seem worried that you have caught some form of illness”Sauron hissed through his teeth at the sound of his brother’s voice, which was sultry under normal circumstances, and today practically dripped with coy sensuality– ostensibly for the sole purpose of aggravating him.
He did not wait for a second knock. Flinging the door open he dragged his brother inside by the collar of his thin robe, fangs bared in his face.
“You know very well I am not ill. You know exactly what is wrong with me, or you wouldn’t be here, reeking like a bitch in heat,” he spat.
Something was different about Mairon; the heft of him was off, the drape of his clothes altered in some subtle way… He stood blinking for a moment in confusion, the nearness and heat of the other like a cloud of perfume that fogged over his brain. A rolling growl like thunder left his chest, and he pinned the smaller Maia flush against the door, using the weight of his frame to slam it shut.
“You changed yourself. You brazen little succubus, what have you done,” he rasped, feeling drunk, an awful mixture of temper and lust brewing in his core. His hand thrust under the silk of Mairon’s robes, squeezing the cushion of flesh he found there, just over his usually narrow hips. It was unfair. It was a cheap, cruel tactic to use such a familiar body against him. He filled both hands with the softness of gold thighs, pressing his mouth to the pulse just under Mairon’s jaw, his inhibitions and his breath leaving him both at once.
He gasped as he was tugged inside, arousal burning all the hotter inside him at how close his brother was. His rage made him beautiful and it was as though there was an air of testosterone and phermones surrounding him. He breathed in deeply, eyes glowing brighter as a mischiveous grin played on his lips.
“It seems fitting that I take the role of a bitch in heat seeing as you’re acting and smelling no better than a hound in rut” he purred, licking his lips eagerly.
Yet another gasp was forced out of him as he was pressed against the door and he let out an eager, keening little noise. Yes…!! He had the power here….!! Oh how marvelous it was to see his beautiful brother reduced to such a needy state when it was usually the other way around! He had the upper hand despite his lesser size.
“I merely wished to help you, beloved brother” he cooed, moaning shamelessly as Sauron groped at him and kissed his neck. He knew how to be sensual and attractive and OH he was going to use it….!
“I need you, my lord brother~ Please give it to me…~!” He breathed, tilting his head further to the side to expose his neck in a most submissive way, his mouth open just a fraction.“I beg of you~ Take me~”
So viciously did he hate Mairon in that moment… every inch, every pre-meditated flattery, every licentious word that dripped from him made him want to spit fire like a balrog and roar to shake the earth. For a moment steam rose from his gritted teeth.
“You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You creeping parasite, you reprobate–”
He wrenched smaller Maia around by one shoulder and slammed him back face-first into the door so that the frame of it rattled and creaked dangerously.
“You think this–” he grabbed a fistful of his Brother’s soft stomach and twisted it savagely, “is enough to make me forget what you are? You think I’d let you climb over me with that stolen body, sink your golden claws into my back?”
Silk rent easily in his hands, falling in shreds around Mairon’s figure, exposing his freckled back and newly rounded hips, their shape so familiar and agonizing. His breath hitched for long second– was it really Mairon’s intent to wear this shape, this forbidden, torturous shape? Had he even known what a betrayal it was? He had never seen Melkor, the way he had; mother of monsters, all voluptuous gold and thorns. Mairon’s master had been another.
No, this could be no accident. There he was, naked and framed by the entryway, molten hair streaming over his strong, angled shoulders down to the dip of his back, bowed like an instrument; the way his thighs met and kissed at the center, their sweet curves leading up to a perfect, heavy cheeks like ripe fruit waiting to be bitten. But was it his memory or this depraved need that lent the image such power over him? Every breath Mairon took made his plump flesh tremble and Thû was suddenly beyond caring. It was still a deception, still a ploy to make him lose control, give his Brother everything he wanted without thinking about the price…
He shook his head, wrath seething to a boil inside him once more; there was nothing he would put past his Brother, no sin he’d not commit to get the upper hand.
“I will have you,” he growled, loosening his belt and opening the front of his leggings, “but I’ll kiss the foot of Manwë before I’ll suffer you around prow.”
He spat in one hand and slicked the fold of Mairon’s ass, hefting his cock in the other, letting it settle ponderously between its cheeks and slide up towards the small of his dappled back. He tried not to let the relief escape him as a groan, but his chest heaved nonetheless, and Thû gripped the Maia’s hips, hauling him backward at his need.
MisbehavingMaiar: Tumblr Archive 