Work Text:
Mairon’s work was almost complete. Another day in Aulë's forge had gone by without interruption. He should have been relieved—pleased, even—for it seemed that Melkor had finally given up on him. Instead, Mairon was indignant and annoyed. Surely he was worth at least another year of pestering.
Eyes squinting, he inspected his creation. The gold torc gleamed warmly as he turned it over in his hands. In its ends were embedded two black sapphires dark as… No. He would not let thoughts of him slip into his mind uninvited.
The sound of metal hitting the floor drew Mairon from his thoughts. As he bent down to grab the tongs that had fallen from the workbench, he froze. Something sparked inside of him at the familiar sensation of an intense, penetrating gaze on his back—or, more precisely, his backside.
"Do you require something of me, Melkor?" he drawled softly, pleased with how steady his voice sounded, for Melkor's visits always had a way of unnerving him.
"Indeed, I do." Melkor's footsteps were quiet as he stepped into the smithy, yet Mairon could feel his looming presence drawing ever closer. “But you need not do anything. Your company alone fulfills my needs.”
Mairon scoffed. “Right, of course it does.”
“You are free to doubt my words, if you truly think so little of yourself.” Long fingers brushed along Mairon's arm, sending a shiver up his spine. Melkor nodded over his shoulder at the torc. "Is this your latest masterpiece?”
Masterpiece.
A surge of pride coursed through Mairon’s veins, and he allowed his eyes to flutter closed for a moment as he savored the feeling of recognition. Rare were the days when Aulë complimented his craftsmanship.
Nevertheless, feigning nonchalance, Mairon shrugged. "Better ones are yet to come,” he said with quiet determination.
"I am sure,” Melkor replied, the backs of his fingers now brushing along Mairon’s hip.
Already Mairon's body was beginning to react to the touch. His jaw clenched. He did not welcome such distractions, least of all from him. "Please go. I have work to do."
Mairon gasped as he found himself spun around. He didn't even notice that Melkor had taken the torc from him until cool fingers brushed his golden hair aside and slid it onto his neck. Mairon's breath caught in his throat as their eyes met. It was as if, in that moment, none but he existed in Melkor’s world.
"It suits you."
This time, when Mairon spoke, his voice quavered. "It is not meant for me."
"Why not? Beauty such as yours should be adorned."
Heat crept up Mairon's cheeks. He did consider himself beautiful, and others' eyes often wandered in his direction, but he'd never been told such a thing so openly.
"What do you know of beauty?" He snarled, ashamed of the feelings now swirling inside of him. "You seek only to cause chaos and destruction."
He yelped as Melkor pulled him close, none too gently, trapping his hardness between them. A fierce fluttering erupted in Mairon's belly as suddenly Melkor’s lips were pressing against his own. Mairon had never been kissed before. His arms remained awkwardly at his sides as he resisted touching Melkor. But slowly, ever so slowly, the soft lips against his mouth coaxed it open. Long fingers wound themselves in his hair, guiding him closer.
Mairon moaned at the sensation of a warm, wet tongue sliding against his own; its every movement roused a strange and intense coiling in his core. But when Melkor ground their hips together, and he felt the hardness against his own, Mairon abruptly turned away.
“I said leave me.” He ignored the amused chuckle he received in response. Now, more than ever, he wanted Melkor gone, for he feared where this would lead if he let it continue.
"No," said Melkor.
Of course not, Mairon thought. He was growing more irritated by the second. "What do you mean 'no'? Someone could walk in here at any moment—"
Melkor chuckled. He reached out and wound a lock of golden hair around his fingers. With a tilt of his head, he smiled. "Let them."
Mairon took a step back, bumping into the workbench. "What?"
"Let. Them. None would do anything but stand frozen in awe at the sight of you spread out naked on this bench, making the sweetest of sounds as I speared you repeatedly upon my cock."
Mairon felt his cheeks begin to burn with shame, and Melkor smirked. "Or would you grunt and groan like a beast in heat? I do wonder…"
"Stop."
"No. You are enjoying this too much." As if to prove his point, Melkor reached beneath Mairon's apron and gripped his erection through his breeches. When he moved his palm up and down the length, a soft gasp escaped Mairon's throat.
Dark, ravenous eyes watched his face, noting every twitch of muscle, every flutter of his eyelids. Meanwhile Mairon's leaking cock had created a wet spot in the fabric, into which Melkor's thumb pressed and rubbed his sensitive slit. Mairon was lightheaded with the discomfort of it all.
Suddenly, the hand disappeared, and Mairon whimpered at the loss.
His tormentor chuckled. "Strip for me."
"I will do no such thing."
Melkor rolled his eyes. "Must we do everything the hard way?"
Mairon braced himself as Melkor moved to grab him. He fought the intrusive hands as well as he could, but he was no match for the Vala. After a brief struggle, he was lying naked on the workbench, held down by a large, strong hand on his chest, his boots and torn clothes scattered nearby on the floor. He covered himself with his hands to maintain some modicum of modesty. But Melkor wouldn't allow it.
"Uncover yourself." Sharp fingernails dug into his thigh at the command. Mairon resisted, but eventually the pain outweighed his shame, and he dropped his hands to his sides in resignation.
Melkor's black eyes sparkled with delight as they traveled down the length of Mairon's torso, stopping at his now semi-flaccid cock. He grinned, revealing unusually long and pointed cuspids. "Glorious. And all mine."
"I am not yours." Mairon struggled against the hand pressing on his chest, but to no avail. "Unhand me before you do something you regret."
A gleeful rumble of a laugh escaped Melkor's throat. "I never regret my actions. And I most certainly will not regret this one."
The hand that had previously been squeezing Mairon's thigh grew gentle now. The backs of Melkor's fingers caressed delicate skin as they travelled upwards. Mairon couldn't bear the intensity of his tormenter's stare. He looked away; swallowed thickly as the hand cupped his sac and gently rolled his testicles.
Once more, the shame clawed at Mairon's insides, for he felt his cock respond to the touch. How many worthier suitors had he sent away in favor of focusing solely on his art—including the beautiful Eönwë himself? And now this was to be his fate. To be taken by force by the most despicable of the Ainur.
"Just get it over with," said Mairon.
"Then you would not enjoy it," Melkor replied as he wrapped his fingers around Mairon's shaft and slowly stroked him to full hardness. He leaned over him then and took a pert nipple between his teeth. The sensation of hard teeth against the sensitive nub sent a jolt of pleasure straight to Mairon's cock, making him gasp. "This way will be much more fun."
Mairon sighed and closed his eyes. Maybe if he refused to participate in this sick game, Melkor would grow weary of him and end it sooner.
It was easier in thought than in practice, however. For what seemed like an eternity, Mairon lay still, struggling to keep his breath steady as Melkor placed soft kisses along his collarbone, and up his neck and jaw—all the while stroking his cock with perfectly timed twists. Occasionally he passed his thumb over the head to spread pre-come along the shaft, and it made Mairon thrust involuntarily into his fist every time.
Melkor's lips brushed against his own. "It feels good, does it not?"
Mairon refused to answer, but his tormenter was undeterred. He squeezed tighter, stroked faster, until another involuntary gasp left Mairon's lips—and that was when Melkor caught his mouth in a kiss. The hand had moved up from his chest to his chin in a firm grip, keeping him from turning away.
The sensation of a tongue sweeping against his own, despite his lack of participation, intensified the coiling sensation in his belly with every movement. An appreciative hum buzzed in Mairon's head, and to his horror he realized the sound was coming from his own throat.
When Melkor finally pulled away, his lips were swollen and glistening. It should not have been arousing. And Mairon definitely should not have continued to watch as Melkor lowered his mouth to his cock and swiped his tongue up the underside before closing his lips around the head.
It was too much. The pressure in his groin was becoming unbearable, and he could sense himself speeding towards some devastating end.
"Stop," he pleaded again. He could not give Melkor the satisfaction of making him come undone. His hands were clenched into fists so tightly that his blunt fingernails threatened to pierce the skin of his palms. But Melkor continued his ministrations, swirling his tongue skillfully around his glans even as tears began to sting Mairon's eyes. "Please."
Then Mairon saw white as his entire being seemed to explode, and all that was left was bliss. A pulsating, ever expanding bliss. It was as if he'd been melted down, released not only from his fana but from everything he was, to be forged anew. Into what, he did not know.
This was a power none should have over him—least of all the despicable Vala gazing down at him with satisfaction written into every feature of his face. Mairon didn't know when Melkor had taken his mouth off him, but he realized he'd come all over his own belly and even his chest. It was humiliating—and strangely arousing.
A gentle thumb wiped the tear that had escaped from the corner of his eye. "Now, was that so bad?"
Mairon refused to respond. Yet, against his better judgment, he reached for laces of Melkor's breeches. It was only to get this over with faster, he told himself.
Melkor's laugh was a low rumble deep in his chest. He covered Mairon's hand with his own and moved it down to feel his erection. Fear and anticipation twisted his stomach into knots at the size of it.
"Is this what you want?" Melkor continued to guide his hand along the length of his bulge.
Mairon's tongue darted out to moisten his lips. He would never admit it, but yes. He was curious. That coiling sensation in his groin was back again, and to his dismay, his cock began to fill out again.
"We could use your own fluids to ease the way," Melkor said, and Mairon felt his cheeks begin to burn at the implication. "Would you like that, little one?"
Ignoring the question, Mairon tried going for the laces again, but the grip on his hand tightened, holding it still.
"I like your enthusiasm," Melkor said, the smirk coming through in his voice. "But I cannot give you everything at once, now can I? You will have to earn it."
"Do you not desire your own release?" Mairon asked, feeling a sudden weight in the pit of his stomach. It was unfair to give another such power over him and not be able to enjoy the same in return.
For a moment, Melkor abandoned his position in between Mairon's legs, and returned with a moist rag in hand. "My concern is with the greater scheme of things."
Mairon reached for the rag as Melkor began to clean up the sticky, cooling mess on his torso. "I can do that myself," he spat, but to no avail. Melkor continued to tend to him gently—even lovingly, an oblivious third party might be led to believe.
Mairon gave up trying to snatch the rag away. "And what is the greater scheme of things?"
He wasn't sure he wanted to know.
"You will see, in time." Soft hair tickled his crotch as Melkor placed a soft kiss on the inside of his thigh. "When you cannot focus on your work because every fiber of your being burns for me, you will know my plans have taken root."
The End.