Bend Over Boyfriend by averytinylizard  

Maedhros loved the feeling of Fingon laying his head on her chest. He would always tuck his nose against her, letting her feel his warm breath against her bare skin, and let her play with his hair. They usually fell asleep like that, too, and even if she woke in the middle of the night she would only need to feel his gentle weight to forget the nightmares haunting her. That calm was almost better than the sex, if she had to be honest.

She felt his lips move against her, and after a moment, Fingon spoke, “Can I ask you for a favour?”

“Of course.” She shifted to get up. “What do you need?”

“Oh, not now! For next time we do… this.” He moved his hand from her hip to gesture at their naked bodies.

Maedhros smiled. “Oh? What matter of favour are you asking for?”

“A few weeks ago I read something very interesting. Some piece of truly terrible erotica. Most boring in style and execution, darling, you would hate it. But it had some interesting concepts.” Fingon was usually the one that brought more experimental concepts to their bed. Some of them, like gagging him with her belt and sucking his cock for an hour, had been quite pleasant. Others, like the playacting at a wedding night with veils and gowns and rings, had been, frankly, a bit embarrassing. Maedhros liked to consider herself a decent actress, but the blushing bride had been a role beyond her abilities even in Valinor. “So, how would you feel about fucking me in both my holes at once?”

“Haven’t we done that already? I think we did so last time I came here.”

“No, you fucked my cunt while I wore a plug. I mean truly fucking both holes.”

“Won't it be a bit much?”

“You wound me! When have I ever fled from danger?”

“I hope you don't see our bed as a dangerous place. Still, the idea intrigues me, but I don’t think I have the equipment for that. Unless you have it already.” She would not put it past Fingon to simply ask some poor leatherworker to make him a harness for his lover to use on him.

“Not yet! But I adore you. Truly, who else indulges me like you do?”

“Nobody, I hope. But your fantasy shall have to wait a while, then. It seems to require very specific tools.”

“We do, don't we? What a fool I am, waiting to ask you in person!”

“Still, we can at least work out the measurements. I would hate to make a harness just to realise the second cock is nowhere near where we want it.”

“Would you really make it for us? And to think people call you unfeeling.” And he smiled, false curiosity in his voice. “How will we measure all this, then?”

She pushed him onto his back and crawled over him. “A trial run, of course. We shall decide on the position and cocks now, and see how I should make the harness around that.” She grabbed his chin and rubbed her thumb over his lips. He licked at her, pupils blown, and she felt heat pool between her legs for the second time that night. “So how shall I take you, milord?”

Fingon spoke quickly, so eager to get the words out they could barely be understood. “On my knees, face down.”

“And what of the toys?” She moved her hand between his legs, eager to get him wet enough for one of the cocks in his drawer. “The same as last time we did something like this?”

“Larger, please.” Poor thing sounded out of breath already.

“How large? We need to make measurements, lover, and for that I need a bit more precision.”

“The largest I have. I– please, darling, don't stop– I want to feel you for days.”

That made her pause and move her fingers to his hip. The largest toys he had were rarely used for their normal play, much less for this. "That is quite large. I… are you sure you want that?”

“Why are you the one nervous about the size? I shall be the one feeling it.”

“Aye, and I shall be the one explaining it to your father if you tear anything. You, bravest of our people, must know we cannot all match your courage. Please, choose something more reasonable in size.”

“Bore. The one I commissioned from Nargothrond, and our usual plug. Is that small enough for my cowardly mistress?”

“I prefer concerned mistress, and, yes, milord, those sizes are much more preferable.”

She pushed her fingers into Fingon then and thumbed at his cock. She loved how sensitive it was, how she could touch it lightly for a few seconds and make Fingon gush. And she loved its size, too, much larger than her clit, and how Fingon had through his own will made his body fit him. What a beautiful man he was!

She hated to stop touching him, but she had started this for a specific purpose, and she needed to get the oil. Still, Fongon didn't let her get up, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to him. She let him kiss her, again and again, until finally she had to put her foot down.

“The oil, dearest. We cannot do this without it.”

“I hate it when you're being reasonable.” But he did let her go.

She found the oil quickly enough, and took the cock and plug while she was there. She kissed him when she went back to the bed, and then bid him to turn over. Fingon, ever eager, pressed his face into the mattress and raised his ass. Maedhros took a few seconds to enjoy the look of him, wet and desperate for her, for her touch, and then got to work.

She stretched his ass slowly, taking care not to hurt Fingon, and did her best to ignore his pleas. It was difficult, with the way he gripped the sheets and his muffled moans, but she reminded herself that this was simply to better build her harness later. Simple reconnaissance. But she couldn’t help but notice the way his chest pressed against the mattress, the way his hair stuck to his sweaty neck, the flexing muscles of his back and shoulders. Still, she did as planned, and did not rush, did not move too roughly, and only moved to grab the toys once Fingon was sufficiently stretched.

She pushed the cock into his cunt first, slowly, then pushed the plug. Fingon was quiet now, his hands trembling, and she did her duty and measured. She knelt with her back straight, her hips flush with Fingon’s, and made sure the cock was level with her clit. That would put the plug further up against her mound, and would make them roughly level with each other. Satisfied, she indulged herself, grinded her hips against him for a second not for the physical sensation but to see Fingon squirm and moan. She got up then, grabbed a measuring string, some parchment, and a quill, and sat down at Fingon's desk.

Fingon turned to look at her. “Why do you leave?”

“A second, please.” She remembered where the plug lay against her, and measured. She wrote it down. “I want everything written down, dearest. You do horrible things to my memory.” She didn't do her measurements for the harness, or the diameters of the toys themselves. Those she could do in the morning, or at home, and the last thing she wanted was to leave Fingon alone for another second.

She knelt behind him again (and rechecked her measurements with the string, just in case), and went back to work. She turned Fingon over again, and without giving him a second to breathe, took his cock in her mouth.

“FUCK!”

Does it feel good? From the way he was pushing her face between his legs, she could guess. She licked at him, enjoying the feeling of his thick curls against her nose, his sour taste, before sucking his cock into her mouth again.

“Yes! I– ah! It's so much…” She grabbed the cock inside of him and began to pull it out. Fingon whined, but when she had the cock halfway out, she pushed it back in forcefully, and his whine became a hoarse cry.

Fingon's thighs tightened around her head, his hands pulled her hair to the point of pain, and his back arched up. She let go of his cock and started laying kisses on his stomach, murmuring praise against his skin. Beautiful, generous, brave, she called him. And when he finally stopped trembling she pulled the toys out. Finally she lied down next to him and kissed him everywhere. His neck, his mouth, his cheeks, his forehead. Her mouth probably still tasted like him, but he didn't complain.

“Are you alright?” She couldn’t make her voice louder than a whisper. This was always a quiet moment between them, the cool water soothing the heat, and she hated to break it.

“Mhmm.” Fingon's arms snaked around her and held her close. He buried his face in her neck and stayed there. He didn't even complain about her being too warm, which he sometimes did. His right hand moved downwards and stopped on her thigh. “Do you want me to…?”

“No. It was enough to see you.”

“Flatterer.” His words were muffled against her skin, but she understood.

“Besides, you did finger me quite mercilessly before. I truly want nothing touching me there until next week.”

That had him alert again. “You don't mean that, do you? I only see you once every few years. If I wasted our—”

“Fine. You can do what you want tomorrow. But we should try to sleep.” It had to be at least 3 in the morning, judging by the light. And with breakfast at 8 the next day, they wouldn't be able to sleep more than 4 hours and a half.

“Please don't say things like that. You sound like my mother.”

“You're not into that? I would have assumed otherwise, what with you sleeping with older women and all.”

“You were right. We should go to sleep.”

“I am going to take that obvious evasion as an admission of guilt.”

“Shut up, Maedhros.” But he did kiss her between each word, so she slept happily, with his weight on her chest.

Fingon awaited eagerly for Maedhros's return to Hithlum for many reasons. The main one, of course, was that his lover and best friend would be back in his arms. Then there was of course the first hand news of Himring and the March, and whatever gifts she brought for her king and prince (Fingon could say many things about Curufin, but he couldn't call her untalented). Still, there was also excitement around whatever plans they made the last time they saw each other and in their letters.

So Fingon couldn't help but ask, even as Maedhros greeted his father, Did you bring it?

Bring what? Maedhros didn’t even look at him, simply kneeled at Fingolfin's feet and kissed his hand.

Did you bring the… And then he sent the mental image of himself on his hands and knees, Maedhros behind him.

I am speaking with your father. Fingon could feel the scandalised look she was sending him, even with her face drawn into a passive mask. Fingolfin helped her stand and kissed her cheeks.

You're right, bad moment. But did you— And suddenly he got the feeling of a door slamming shut in his face.

After she finished greeting his father, Maedhros walked up to Fingon and bowed. He spoke his greetings, she spoke hers, and it was dull in the same way that all of this politicking was dull. She gave her gifts then (a beautiful and slightly impractical knife for Fingon, and a cloak with a matching brooch for his father), and asked for permission to go to her rooms and bathe before supper. Fingolfin granted it, and that was the end of that.

Fingon paced his room as he waited until he could go to the dining room. Looking in the mirror, he undid his braids, brushed his hair and redid them, tighter than before, and still had an hour left. Maedhros and her retinue needed time to bathe and change unless they wanted dinner to smell like horse sweat, but a late dinner meant they would not get privacy for a long time.

He needed to talk to her alone as soon as possible. Hello.

Hello?

What are you doing right now?

Laughter, loving and disbelieving, washed over him. I'm taking a bath. Almost finished in fact.

Ah. That's a nice image. Tell me, did you bring it?

Yes, it's in my bags right now. You know, we're quite lucky I unpack my own bags. I would hate for Eithawen to find it.

Eithawen was Maedhros's nurse turned handmaiden, and she was about as soft as thornbush. Tell her it's a new design for a belt. Very fashion forward.

Please. She would say I was acting unlike myself and try to tie me to my bed.

Then tell her the truth.

You tell her, oh brave knight. It's you who does all the reckless jumping into action for noble causes.

She's your handmaiden.

I will not tell her that I learnt how to do leatherwork with one hand just because the prince likes to be treated roughly.

You did?

I told you I would.

Still, you could have bought it.

From whom? I do not need the people of Himring to know I buy specialised leather harnesses. Dearest, I have quite distinctive features, in case you could not tell.

So you decided to learn how to work with leather. With one hand.

I knew how to do it with two! And I know you haven't been to Himring in the winter, but it's dull. It's so cold you can barely go to the yard, much less leave the fortress, and so much snow covers the gates that even if you wanted to, you couldn't leave. I needed to do something.

Glad I could help you then.

Ha! Do not pretend to be selfless when we both know perfectly well your motivations.

But you will use it on me.

Dear, it took me too much time and effort to not use it.

I wish we could try it out right now.

I don't. At least give me time for dinner.

Know that I await your touch most impatiently.

So do I. But my bath is finished and I need help changing. Do what you may, to pass the time.

Fingon took that as the instructions they were, and the satisfaction of his afternoon carried him through a dull state dinner.

By the time he got to Maedhros's room, she had everything they would need in place. She was still clothed, but the harness was on the bed, the toys next to it, and the oil on her bedside table. Her hair was in a tight braid now, and it wore no ornamentation. She stood with her arms behind her back, her posture straight, and Fingon would have thought her angry if not for the affection on her face. That alone turned her from a stern general to a friend and lover willing to indulge him. Still cold, almost distant, but only in the ways that he liked.

“Strip.” That was a command he obeyed without hesitation.

He did so slowly, removing each layer in a way that would be most pleasing to the eye. His doublet he unbuttoned quickly, and he did quick work of the band binding his chest. Maedhros hummed at that, a low, pleased note, and he stopped to let her look. He then bent to remove his boots, and he felt her hold her hips next to his. He was still working on his left one, and her fingers were caressing his lower back methodically, feeling the shape of the muscle, and he could barely concentrate enough to pull it off. He managed, and then stood up. He let his weight rest against Maedhros, who caressed his arms, his stomach, his throat. The only place she didn't touch was his chest, and he was thankful for that. He sighed and held her head closer when she started to kiss his neck.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.” There was a sharpness, a danger in her voice. There was also danger in how her hand tightened around his throat. It wasn't tight enough to choke, or to hurt, but she could do so with such ease. He moaned. “So why did you?”

His hands went quickly to his belt, taking his trousers off while trying to stop his knees from shaking. As soon as they were off Maedhros's hand moved to his braies, loosening them and letting them fall down his legs. She then started touching his cock, swollen with blood already, and held him close with her right arm. She took pleasure in the noises he made, biting his neck now, and after a minute she turned him around. She grabbed his hand and laid it on the collar of her wine dark robe. Fingon understood immediately and started to unbutton it.

As soon as he had undone the collar he started to kiss her neck, and blindly continued with all the buttons. When he was finished, Maedhros shrugged it off and took off her tunic and chemise, and let him take off her breast band. All that was left were her boots and trousers, so he kneeled. He took off her boots, slowly, reverently sliding them off her feet. Her trousers were next, and as he slid them down he kissed her navel, and then down her mound, until he could kiss her lips, and she sighed in pleasure. Her hand rested on his head, not pushing, and even knowing what waited he could have stayed licking into her, worshipping her with his mouth for days.

“This night was supposed to be about you, milord.” She didn't move her hand, even as she spoke. Still, he could give her what she wanted, specifically when her wishes were so closely aligned with his.

He stood up, helped her put on the harness and put the cocks in place. The sight was enough to make Fingon feel faint. Both cocks stood straight, neither intimidating by itself, but to feel both fucking him at once? May all the Valar help him, he would never be able to leave his bed. And Maedhros! Her shoulders, her arms, her stomach, all built for strength. The weight she had gained since he last saw her, enough to soften her muscles, but not to hide them, and to add slightly to the curve of her hips and breasts. Her legs, long and muscular, and her harness digging into the meat of her hips. Her face, scarred and flushing slightly, and her beautiful dark eyes. To have such a woman as a lover was impossible to dream about. To picture her fucking him was enough to kill.

He kissed her, standing on his toes to reach her mouth, and started to stroke the cock rubbing against her clit. She was moaning, soft against his mouth, when her hand moved to his chest and pushed him down to the bed. Knocked out of breath, he let her kneel down the foot of the bed and take his cock into her mouth. Her fingers, meanwhile, pushed into him, softly stroking him while she kissed him. He wrapped his legs around her head, holding her close, and pushed her head closer still. The movements of her fingers were methodical, a simple process to make his cunt looser, but she kissed and sucked him with such passion that the contrast made all sensations that much sweeter. He moaned, high and soft, and tried not to think of the fact that it was still the beginning of the night.

Pass me the oil, milord, came a voice into his head, but she did not move mouth or fingers, and he was loath to move himself. Fingon stretched his back and arms, trying to keep his cunt in Maedhros's reach, while pawing blindly at his bedside table for the oil. He yelled in triumph when he gripped it, and opened it before handing it to her. He only had a few moments to miss the feeling of her fingers in his cunt before feeling the oily press against his second entrance. There was barely any pressure, just a soft massaging, along with her mouth on his cock, to get him to relax. And then she started to push in slow, with only one finger, and yet the feeling was strange, for he did not do this without her. It was less sensitive than his cunt, not as pleasurable physically, but that strangeness, that intrusion in a place not made for it, made it that much better. And then there were two fingers, spreading him open so Maedhros could… The thought alone made him moan and push against her fingers and mouth. He wanted her to hurry, to take him now, and yet he knew that if he spoke that aloud she might stop, and so he kept quiet.

Maeehros looked up at him. Do you want to come now or later?

“W-what?” His mind felt sluggish.

“Do you want to come?” Her fingers still moved in him, slow, not enough to overwhelm him without her mouth. “I don't want you to be oversensitive later.”

“Don’t stop. I want to…” He didn’t know what he wanted, but Maedhros did not probe further and simply moved her head between his legs again. Her fingers were quicker, pressing with more force against him, and her mouth was vicious, licking into him one moment, sucking him the next, and ever so often there was the sharp threat of teeth. It was a minute at most before he was bucking his hips against her. He felt her crawl over him, kiss him, let her weight fall on him for a moment.

She spoke softly, “Could you slick this one?” and gestured towards the cock that would go into his cunt. “I'd do it myself, but…” She didn't need to explain. Why risk infection when he could do this?

He sat up and poured the oil over both her hand and his, and they both started to stroke for a few seconds, until both the cocks were slick.

She kissed him, took the vial of oil from his hand and bid him to turn over. Fingon, eager, put his ass in the air and felt her pour oil down between his cheeks. And then she was behind him.

She pressed against him, holding one cock against one hole, and then the second one against the other. She pushed in slowly, each inch taking a maddeningly long time. Still, he felt full before she was halfway in, her hand in his hip grounding him. Then her hips were flush against his and he could feel all of her, the textured cock in his cunt, the smoother one in his ass, her muscular thighs against his, her calloused hand holding him. Her breath was laboured, and he couldn't see her, and yet the picture she made in his mind was clear, her face flushed, a lock of hair loose from her braid, and affection and desire in her eyes.

She pulled back, and he hissed at the drag and moaned when she pushed in again. But it was still too slow, even if he felt fuller than he ever had before, he still needed her to go harder. So he spoke, “I asked you to fuck me.”

“You did, didn't you?” A smile in her voice, cruel in the way he liked best. “How selfish of me, to try to be nice.” She pulled back, almost until she was completely out, and rammed back in so hard Fingon screamed. His arms couldn’t hold him up anymore and his chest fell on the bed, his hips only staying in place because of Maedhros's bruising grip.

He could feel his body accommodate her, he was sure of it, he knew that he would feel empty the rest of his life compared to this. She simply did not stop, her movement constant, not specifically fast, but deep and with all her prodigious strength focused on him. Her hand moved from his hip to the back of his neck, holding his face to the mattress, and that was when he felt tears well. His body felt like a single nerve, raw and overstimulated, and he did not want her to stop, not ever. He was making so much noise, he was sure somebody could hear, and he wanted them to, wanted them to understand how good Maedhros was to him.

“Am I fucking my lord as he asked?”

He couldn't speak, muffled as he was by the mattress, couldn't lift his head, and even if he could he didn’t think he'd be able to get any words out.

She helped him, before she asked again, rocking her hips in small motions deep inside of him and pulling his hair to force him to lift his head. “Am I fucking you as you asked?”

“YES! I— oh, fuck, Maedhros, I—!” Her hips were moving like before now, determined to break him, it seemed.

She sighed. “I should have given you a cock to suck. It seems cruel to ask you to speak when you're like this.” She sounded out of breath, but still, it was a sweet humiliation to be unable to speak full sentences when the person responsible sounded like they were only slightly winded. She let go of his hair and pushed his face against the mattress again, and finally the tears spilled. “It's too late now, but next time I will push a cock down your throat before doing this. It ought to keep you quiet, and besides, whores like you deserve to have all of their holes filled, don't they?”

He wasn't sure if she wanted him to answer, if he should try, but he couldn't do more than gasp. He wanted it, wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything, and he could not string the words together to tell her that.

Everything felt too intense, too hot, the pleasure so deep it sank into his bones, and he wanted more. So he moved his left hand to his cock, stroked it one, two, three times, before a hand stilled his.

“Fingon.” She sounded so disappointed, but even so she did not stop the rough movement of her hips. His hand was moved and pushed against the mattress, and Maedhros had to lean against his back to reach. The angle moved slightly, a shift in sensation that made him feel everything more deeply. He could feel her breasts against his back. “I make this harness for you, I indulge you, I fuck you better than anyone else, and it still isn't enough for you. Why do you feel the need to insult me? Are you really such a whore that being filled in two holes isn't enough?” Her hand felt dangerous against his wrist, capable of breaking it if she only tried. He loved her for it. “Or maybe you knew I'd be disappointed, and that I'd stop you. You wanted me to hurt you, not too much, but enough to make this,” a well timed thrust, “all the sweeter.”

She moved his hand from the mattress to his back, made his left side fall down, and held his wrist firmly. Her hold was cruel, not quite painful, but it would tire him quickly. And again the shift in angle, hitting his cunt and ass strangely, different enough to make his gasps turn into sobs. The slight not-quite-pain in his shoulder, her cruel words, and the fullness he felt— Manwë, the idea of touching his cock now felt absurd. He felt one of the fingers holding him scratch his hand, not deep enough to make him bleed, but still enough to be felt, and he came. He was shaking, crying, screaming, he was sure of it, but he could only feel his cunt, his ass, his shoulder, his wrist, and the warmth of her thighs against his. His body was electricity itself, and it hurt in a good way while being so good it hurt. He didn't want to ever leave his bed, he wanted Maedhros inside of him forever, he wanted nothing. The moment was perfect.

And then the pleasure subsided, and he felt the ache. She pulled out, each movement slow, and her mind entered his, soft as cotton and warm. I love you, she said, and You were so good, and Does anything hurt?

No. He turned over, laid back, and looked at the ceiling, the constellations painted on it. He could hear her taking the harness off.

She touched his shoulder, the left one, and started to softly massage it. Are you sure I didn't hurt you?

I'm sure. But keep doing that. Feels nice.

Of course. Her hand was light, but she still pulled and pushed with sure movements. Her nurses had done the same for her hundreds of times. Do you need some water?

Yeah. She kissed his shoulder and got up. He tried to follow her with his gaze, but he was too tired to move, and rested his head against his pillow. She washed her hands, and returned first with cups, then with the pitcher, and poured one for each. He drank, the water cool against his tongue, and watched her as she sat against the headboard. Once his cup was empty, he laid his head in her lap and looked up at her, following the scars from her muscled stomach to the slope of her breasts, to her neck to her face with its smile broken by the cut along her lip. She was the most beautiful woman in the world, he knew. He stayed there a few minutes looking up at her before turning over and mouthing at her thigh. There were countless scars there, some thin cuts that seemed to have healed quickly, burns from the whips of Balrogs, and claw marks all across her legs. He knew which to avoid and which she didn't mind if he touched, and mapped them with kisses.

Maedhros gave a soft sigh. “What did I do to deserve you?”

With his mouth he said, “I can think Of a few things just tonight,” and with his mind, I loved you since I was but a youth, deserving has nothing to do with this.

He moved his mouth to the apex of her legs and kissed her there, slow, too tired to actually do much. Then she spoke, “Can I touch your cock? I had an idea.”

“Yes!” He was still sensitive, but he wouldn't mind anything Maedhros did. “Do whatever you want, darling.”

“On your back, then.”

When he layed back, she straddled his hips, her cunt over his. Her hands moved between her legs, and he thought she was going to start touching herself, but she did not. Instead she parted his folds, started stroking him, making his cock stand, and moved her hole over him. Oh. She barely moved her hips, trying to keep him inside of her, but what movements she made were clear. Her hips rocked as if she were riding him. He grabbed her hips, groped her ass, and looked at her. Her hand had moved between her legs and he could hear it beneath her soft moans, the wet rubbing of her clit, his cock moving against her. I love you.

He sat up, careful not to disturb her movements too much, and kissed her. Her mouth was red, maybe from biting her own lips to keep quiet, so he licked into her, bit at her lips, trying to show her how good he felt. He grabbed one of her breasts, held it, feeling its swaying as she moved against him. And an idea came to him, and he asked her to let him in, to plant something from his head into hers. When she nodded, it was as simple as finding the memory, the feeling of her fucking him just a little while ago, and giving it to her. He stopped kissing her, put his mouth against her throat and watched her frown as she processed what he gave her. And then he heard her gasp, felt her pull his hair, grind her hips against his as if trying to take him deep. Her gasps turned into moans when he pinched her nipple, bit at her throat, and her back arched. He moved his hand between her legs, pinched at her clit too, and he shivered when he felt her legs tighten around him. Aulë and Yavanna, there wasn't a sight in the world better than this.

Her weight fell on him, and it took some effort to lie back without simply dropping them both. But he managed, and he pushed so that they both lay on their sides. She looked tired, and, frankly, so was he.

“Thank you.” He kissed her on the nose, as he did in Valinor, and she rolled her eyes at that.

“It was no great sacrifice, Fingon. I enjoyed myself.”

“I am quite sure that I enjoyed it more. And that I had to put in a lot less effort. So, thank you.”

“We ought to take a bath. Help me draw it and I shall count it as adequate payment.” They really should. They were both sticky with sweat, and he could smell the wetness down their thighs

“Any requests? A specific oil, any special towels?”

“Company would be nice. And maybe a massage. Turns out riding a horse for hours and sex are hell on the hips.” Maedhros stretched as she spoke, and her limbs cracked so much that Fingon was inclined to believe her.

“At least you’ll have company in your suffering tomorrow, because you left me quite sore as well! Now, do you want me to fill a copper basin here or would you rather sneak into the communal ones?”

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