ji-indur:
Not being able to speak was quite bothersome although in all fairness the wraith was not sure what he even would have said if he could have earned the ability of using words under water. If anything it was maybe for the best, as he was fighting the urge to cover his eyes as he was an unwilling witness to the sudden exchange of intimate gestures even though it was more coming from his master’s side than Osse’s who, everything considered, was quite surprised and not exactly a willing participant as far as Ji Indur could tell. With Sauron pushed back again and the attention returned to the helpless corsair in his grip, the wraith did not anticipate what was to happen next as he tried to make himself understood with sign language, simply to inform the Master of the Seas why he was not letting his tongue fly as usual.
And then there were suddenly lips over his and his eyes widened as his brain had trouble to fully process what was happening until he felt his lungs fill with air and after he was released once more the captain of the Kraken was just happy that with life he had also lost the ability to blush, pressing hands to his mouth instead so he wouldn’t squander the gift with one carelessly made sound of surprise. Before he could speak however and explain himself and apologize for his intrusion he felt hot glares fall on him, making him squirm uncomfortably in Osse’s grip again. His master’s will, while not as strong as on dry land, was pressing against the back of his mind, pushing it around and there were silent promises of punishments to come for his inability to follow orders given.
Feeling even smaller than before and strangely meek the wraith knew these were not his own feelings but those forced upon him by a rather furious Sauron who suddenly came closer, so much closer, pushing the hapless corsair out of Osse’s grip, causing the precious gift of oxygen to leave his lungs and mouth in a stream of bubbles and a surprised little noise. Ah so much for explaining himself, the blow powerful enough to make his entire body reverberate, every fiber aching as he was hurled through the water a few arm’s lengths away. If this had happened on dry land he was certain he would have landed near Angmar in a heap of broken bones. Deciding that this would be a good time to maybe bid his farewell after all since -it was all over now, was it not?- he doubted he’d be given another chance to speak, the only thing that stopped him was another kiss given by Sauron to the other Ainur but this time it was a true kiss, fierce and with a heat that almost made the water bubble. Or so Ji Indur would have sworn afterwards.
….it was also the moment when he knew that whatever would happen next…he should not be anywhere nearby, the wraith starting to swim towards the nearby shore in a desperate determination to not end up the victim of /both/ Maiar’s wrath. No, one punishment would suffice, he had no intention to witness what a furious Osse looked like this close up.
@misbehavingmaiar @masteroftheseas
Ossë started when Ji was ripped from his loose grasp and he found the hulking form of his cousin in its place. He glared and parted his lips to speak, but hands in his hair and a quicker tongue beat him to it.
In hindsight, he should have interrupted him. He should not have let Sauron speak. He should have batted him away, talked over him, tossed him to shore – anything. Something. But he hadn’t; instead he had stilled with his defiant glare and listened to his cousin’s arguments, his pitiful appeals, his demands, his pleas.
Instead he was captured by a kiss, furious and hungry and desperate, and he had been expecting that. He was surprised only that Sauron had waited so long to stake his claim, the tear of teeth into his lips a burn like forge-bright blades melting into cooling waters, the smell of sizzling flesh escaping with the bubbles of steam that surged from their mouths.
He would have jerked his face away. He would have used his teeth for more than passionate embraces. But at that same instant Sauron ever-so-delicately passed his smoldering fingertips over the intimately sensitive slit of his gills. A squeak escaped him as he froze, tail flickering sharply in a confused, erratic rhythm. It was an overwhelming onslaught of thoughts and feelings: danger, heat, pleasure, cousin, enemy – all blended into one and were lost beneath the warming, fin-curling sensation of sea-cooled flames seeping into every filament, every scale, and deeper still.
If Sauron’s fingers were dangerous, his lips were a promise of a decadent doom. He was so unbelievably gentle, feather light kisses and puffs of smoky breath that he sucked in as though he needed that air to survive. Those horrible fingers found his fin instead and he whined softly through the squeaks that peppered the sea like gasps. And was that the graze of a tongue between his gills?
Ossë’s head rolled back in offering, his eyes burning brighter than the stars as he floated limp against his cousin. The thrumming in Sauron’s chest buzzed through him as well, and he warbled weakly at the vibrations. His tail whipped forward to wind around Sauron’s as he lifted his hand to thread his fingers through the knotted hair nestled at the back of his skull. The warmth was everywhere, it felt like he was boiling, but it was perfection.
He stiffened for just an instant, his shoulder lifting in protest and his head tilting to bump at his cousin’s brow. His grip tightened, claws curling against Sauron’s scalp and scales scraping against the smooth flesh of his tail. It had to stop now – but it felt so decadently good. There it was again, another swipe of a strong, slick, long tongue, and he whined shrilly as he bared his throat once more.
But Sauron would proudly wear this victory. No matter how good it felt, if he allowed his cousin to continue this game (already it had gone too far to escape with all his dignity in tact) he would never outlive the shame of being so wickedly manipulated.
He jerked Sauron’s face from his neck and squeezed with his tail, holding his cousin steady as the waters swirled and surged around them. The confused wildlife darted anxiously around the Ainur as the plant life swayed and churned dangerously beneath. Ossë watched his cousin’s expression, his own set in a furious snarl of rage. A rumble of distant thunder growled on the horizon, and an icy surge of water roared above them as the sea responded to the emotions of its master.
He wanted to speak. To curse his bold actions, to defend his husband’s good name, to wipe that smug, self-satisfied glint from his eyes. But speaking would be the final defeat, the final insult. Biting him would be too easily confused as a passion of another sort, as would any physical contact at this point. Where the water was previously warmed and gentle, it now was wild and cold and dark.
His hand loosened its grip, and his tail unwound its hold. Ossë stared down his cousin and all the previous affection and pity and wary trust was gone, replaced with fury and determination and something else that swirled in an undertone of his eyes and in the soft, mourning song of a whale – until the water spout threw him up, out of the water, and crashing brutally into the rocks along the coast. A trident followed his flight to graze along his throat, a shallow cut along the side of his neck.
In the sea, a trumpet blasted. It was a warning that all mercies had been meted out, and the next intrusion would have fatalities.
@misbehavingmaiar
MisbehavingMaiar: Tumblr Archive 