show me the limits of your deceit by skywardstruck  

There are few who understand most closely the ways of Celebrimbor’s heart, the quirks of his mind, the source of his passions. 

The day Celebrimbor met the dwarf Narvi, most renowned of the engineers of Khazad-dûm, it did not take long for a spark to light between them. Celebrimbor needed only talk about smithing, jewelcraft, the natural elements, all things he loved most— for Narvi to be impressed. And over the years, they would prove their talents to each other, time and again, reveal to each other their deepest feelings and secrets, until their greatest achievement, the Doors of Durin, stood proudly as a monument to their friendship and love.

There was little hesitation, then, when Celebrimbor asked for Narvi’s hand in marriage, save for confusion over marriage customs. Narvi vowed that day, that they would protect Celebrimbor with their life.

Narvi seemed to want to make good on that promise, when a mysterious Maia calling himself Annatar Aulendil showed up at the gates of Ost-in-Edhil, hoping to work with the Gwaith-i-Mírdain and bringing gifts of knowledge. Though Celebrimbor ultimately had the final say in allowing Annatar to enter into his city, Narvi’s sharp eyes and rigorous questioning ensured that Annatar would think twice before trying anything suspicious.

But just as Celebrimbor had fallen for Narvi, it was the shared love of the craft that drew him to Annatar, as well. Annatar dreamed of doing the impossible: to make Middle-earth a home just like Valinor that would stand the test of time. To forge a real partnership, a love that could only be found past Ost-in-Edhil’s gates, open to all who sought refuge, a place of belonging. To give Annatar a chance to begin again, to break away from the shadow he once escaped from, to create a new future atop the remnants of a broken past.

Celebrimbor knows he feels love, for both Narvi and Annatar, in equal measure, but for different reasons. He can’t help but gaze at Annatar during their work together, drawn to the Maia’s light. His ears twitch at the sound of Annatar’s gentle voice, carrying the air of a timeless song. Celebrimbor often fantasizes about what it would be like, to have Annatar in his arms, reacting to his touch, shivering from his kisses. Celebrimbor wants to know every part of Annatar, when the Maia is ready to reveal it.

It isn’t long before the perfect opportunity arises— perhaps by complete chance.

It is deep into the night, and most of the Mírdain are fast asleep at this hour, including Narvi. Few would choose to use the baths, though Celebrimbor is usually the exception, often losing track of the time until the hour becomes late. But suddenly, Celebrimbor hears the sound of the door opening, startling him, and there’s Annatar in a thin robe, staring at Celebrimbor’s naked form in awe, rather than embarrassment.

“Oh— Tyelperinquar...” Annatar takes in every detail of the sight before him, the way Celebrimbor’s curls cascade down his toned back like waves, the way his beautiful brown skin shines when wet, his firm chest muscles, his curved waist... It’s the first time Annatar has seen Celebrimbor like this. Celebrimbor knows it too; he knows how much he’s fantasized about this very thing.

“I apologize, I didn’t think you would be here,” says Celebrimbor, turning to face Annatar; he’s not sure how to react, as he tries to gauge what Annatar means with those pleading eyes. “Is there... something you need from me? I mean— would you like to join me?” Celebrimbor’s awkward expression softens into a smile as he invites the Maia to come closer.

And Celebrimbor notices, when Annatar’s eyes widen at the sight of his length, hanging between his legs— this is fine, Celebrimbor tells himself, Annatar has never seen me like this before, it’s normal to stare. But he can’t fool himself with such explanations, and the thoughts do little to sate Celebrimbor’s desires.

“Oh, there is no need to apologize to me, I would love to join you,” Annatar reassures him, “I am grateful, that you should feel comfortable enough with me, for us to share a bath together.” He gracefully makes his way towards the bath, the loose fabric of his robe swishing along with the beautiful curves of his hips. The fabric is almost translucent, but not quite enough for Celebrimbor to fully see what’s underneath— surely, he knows what he’s doing, Celebrimbor thinks, taking a seat in the bath in hopes of getting a better view of Annatar. It isn’t long, though, before Annatar removes his robes, the fabric gliding over his skin with gentle movements of his hands before dropping down around his feet.

And oh Eru, Annatar is beautiful, more beautiful than Celebrimbor could ever have imagined. His soft, silky skin, a round figure with a hint of plumpness, his sparkling blonde hair glowing with an alluring, warm light. Delicate gold chains hanging from his perked nipples, leaf-like patterns painted on the skin beneath his chest. What can Celebrimbor say, in the presence of such perfection? Was this how Thingol felt, under Melian’s enchantment?

But what surprises Celebrimbor most, are the delicate folds between Annatar’s legs, the sensitive bud in the middle pierced with elegant gold; what it would feel like, to ravish him there, to unravel him beneath me, Celebrimbor thinks.

“Annatar, you... you are impossibly beautiful, simply exquisite—”

“Oh, you flatter me,” Annatar replies with a soft smile, stepping into the water beside Celebrimbor, sitting close enough for their skin to touch. “You should know, I shaped my fana especially for you, Tyelpë. So it is only right, that I treasure your compliments.”

Annatar runs a hand casually through Celebrimbor’s curls, caressing his cheek, drawing him close. Celebrimbor burns with desire, it will only be a matter of time before he can’t hold back anymore, before his senses abandon him and leave naught but lust in their wake.

Celebrimbor tries his hardest, though, to focus on the healing effects of the water, cool, refreshing, and calming, relaxing every part of him, as he closes his eyes. How he loves the baths, all of the memories he made here with Narvi. The warm, soothing water, enveloping him in comfort, steam rising from the surface like pools at a hot spring. He takes deep breaths, the pleasant heat making his thoughts drift away to pleasant dreams of Annatar, holding the Maia in his arms, drowning in his kisses—

Celebrimbor opens his eyes, and there is Annatar, head resting against his chest, his hair glowing a beautiful orange as bubbles form on the surface of the water— since when did it get so hot in here? Oh, right, he’s a Maia of fire,— and Celebrimbor has so many questions.

“How long have you—”

“How long have I been wanting you, Tyelperinquar? Perhaps from the moment you opened your gates for me, or from the first time you weaved my Song into your craft... Surely now you see, what we could become, the greatness we could achieve, our hearts and minds in perfect alignment?” asks Annatar, taking control of the conversation, the temperature, drawing out Celebrimbor’s deepest dreams: an Eregion as grand and fair as Tirion upon Túna, even Valimar, where all like-minded folk could work in pursuit of its prosperity. A dream Celebrimbor holds so closely, that he swears he can feel tears forming in his eyes, mixing with sweat and the waters from the baths as the blood rushes to his loins.

And this beautiful Maia, though he may have fallen from grace, is the key to all of it. Celebrimbor wants Annatar more than he can voice aloud, if it would even be right to do so. He thinks of Narvi, of Galadriel, and Gil-galad, until the thoughts fade to the will of his heart.

“A safe haven,” says Celebrimbor, “a new beginning... redemption, forgiveness, for both of us.”

“Oh, but that cannot be all you want from me.”

“What do you mean—”

“You're hard for me, aren't you, Tyelpë?” Annatar observes, with a sly glance down to Celebrimbor’s cock beneath the water, stiffening to its full length; Celebrimbor immediately glances away, caught completely off guard.

“Annatar—!”

“Was there something... more you wanted to say to me?” Annatar smirks, his lips dangerously close to Celebrimbor’s own, but not enough to touch.

“I... I need you,” Celebrimbor begs. “All of you. Please.”

“Anything for you, milord.”

Annatar acts before Celebrimbor can even elaborate on what he wants. Annatar’s fingers are wrapped gently around Celebrimbor’s cock, thumb twisting so tantalizingly around the tip, before Celebrimbor finally closes the space between their lips, pulling the Maia close to him, melting into the kiss just as his hröa seems to dissolve in the water. Even parting to catch his breath only seems to make the kiss hotter, as if Celebrimbor could taste the flames of Annatar’s spirit.

Eventually, Celebrimbor can’t take it anymore; he knows he’ll slip, if this keeps going. So he slides out of the bath to sit on the edge, his feet dangling into the water, his cock waiting to be claimed. Annatar wastes no time following Celebrimbor, kneeling before him. His face fits perfectly between the elven smith’s legs as he gazes at Celebrimbor’s massive length, fondling it in admiration, even worship. Annatar’s tongue— a forked tongue, Celebrimbor can see now— glides smoothly across his cock from base to tip, swirling around his slit, eliciting a gasp from him.

“Ah—! Annatar...”

“Worry not, precious Tyelpë. Allow me to take care of you.”

Celebrimbor is helpless against Annatar, with the Maia’s soft lips enveloping the head of his cock, gentle fingers grasping the base, tongue twisting around his length. Any sense Celebrimbor had before is forgotten now. He doesn’t think twice, pressing his hand on Annatar’s head, pushing it down further, deeper, until the whole of his cock is sheathed inside Annatar’s warm mouth.

And Annatar doesn’t even gag, not once. Surely, he’s done this before, Celebrimbor thinks, between his moans. He has to have done this before. But there’s no point in questioning it. Annatar bobs effortlessly on Celebrimbor’s shaft, his mouth fitting perfectly, so tightly, as if it was made for him. Annatar soon lets go with a pop, precome trailing from the tip to Annatar’s mouth as he licks his lips with a devious smile.

“Oh, Tyelpë... you are an absolute treasure,” Annatar hums from pure infatuation, kissing the inside of Celebrimbor’s thighs, taking his cock into his mouth once more.

“And you are mine, Annatar,” Celebrimbor groans, his heart alight with desire as he grips Annatar’s head tightly, pushing harder, asserting control. And this side of Celebrimbor, Annatar likes most of all, for the moan that escapes him is pure music. Celebrimbor bucks his hips in return, fucking deep into Annatar’s throat, beginning a steady rhythm.

Though Annatar’s mouth is too filled with Celebrimbor’s cock to say much of anything, his moans and whines say it all; he wants everything Celebrimbor has to give. Celebrimbor can even feel Annatar’s ëala reaching out to his own fëa, the Maia’s very being veiled in flame, close enough to see, but not enough to touch or understand. And Celebrimbor wants all of it. He fucks Annatar’s throat harder, faster, lost in the molten heat of his mouth until all he can think of is Annatar, sending shivers through Celebrimbor’s hröa with every thrust.

It isn’t long then, before it all becomes too much, and Celebrimbor comes hard into Annatar’s mouth, filling the Maia’s throat with his seed. Annatar gulps, dutifully swallowing almost every drop, licking the rest with his tongue as Celebrimbor pants, trying to catch his breath.

“Was it to your liking, milord?” Annatar asks, spoken so confidently, as if he’s said the exact same thing to someone else before.

“Perfection itself, just like you,” says Celebrimbor with a loving smile, cupping Annatar’s face tenderly. “But I’m not quite done with you yet. Surely, you wouldn’t think the only pleasure that matters is my own?”

“Ah, of course. How kind of you to think of me,” Annatar teases, stepping out of the water to lay at Celebrimbor’s side, intertwining their fingers, gazing into the Fëanorian’s eyes. “Please... show me what these hands are capable of. I am all yours... sweet Tyelpë.”

As Celebrimbor pulls Annatar into another kiss, he knows now, there is no turning back. Even if he should drown in Annatar’s darkness, he will accept it all, if it means he can save him.

Is that not what it means to love?

✵

Narvi hadn’t been sure what to expect, when Annatar sent them a note, asking to meet them alone in the forges that night, but it definitely wasn’t this.

At first, Narvi thought it to be a half-hearted attempt to earn their cooperation for his next project. Narvi knew Annatar wished to have all the Mírdain wrapped around his fingers like the rings he was designing so carefully, and Narvi was not one to bend easily. They needed a strong will, to protect their husband Celebrimbor from all who would seek to take advantage of his kindness.

Though perhaps they should have seen it coming, they realize now. For when Annatar told Narvi of Celebrimbor’s affections for him, of their secret trysts, it sparked a fire inside the dwarf; they saw how Celebrimbor gazed longingly at Annatar, as if Celebrimbor could come undone with the Maia’s eyes alone.

And now, Annatar comes undone with Narvi’s hand in some twisted act of revenge, the dwarf’s thick fingers pressed deep between his silky folds, stretching him open little by little as he lies on the forge table, wrists and ankles bound in cuffs, dripping wet for Narvi.

“I don’t need any preparation,” Annatar huffs, “you’re being far too delicate with me.”

“Impatient, are you?” Narvi spits back, adding another finger, stretching his hole even more. “Might I remind you, I’m in charge of this forge tonight. You’re lucky I’m even going to let you come, after what you and Tyelpë have been doing behind my back.”

“If you’re trying to prove yourself more skilled than I, it isn’t working,” Annatar replies, his blushing face revealing his arousal, belying his words. “Why, I doubt you could make me come at all, with such poor technique as yours.”

“I’ll make you eat those words then, firefly,” Narvi retaliates, circling their thumb ever so slightly around Annatar’s already swollen clit, brushing up against his piercing and sending shivers through his fana.

“Shut up with that, dwarf, ahh—” Annatar can’t manage to stifle a moan, not when Narvi’s touches are so tantalizing, enough to make him want more and more, but never enough to send him over the edge. Another rough and calloused hand glides over Annatar’s soft skin and plump curves, gently squishing the rolls of his belly, and Annatar burns with frustration. “How long are you going to draw this out? How long are you going to torture me?” he demands. “You even have yet to remove your clothes— how could you treat me like this? The greatest Maia of Aulë?”

“Well, you’re in luck, Aulendil,” Narvi answers, “you’ll be filled up soon enough.” Narvi takes out a curious, vaguely phallus-shaped device from the pocket of their smithing apron. “See, I’ve designed plenty of toys for my husband, but I’ve made this one especially for you,” Narvi explains with a devious smirk. The device is rather large, with a key attached to it; Annatar can hear the tinkling sounds of machinery from the inside, as his glowing eyes widen, hoping to get a closer look at it. Narvi takes a moment to wind up the device, slowly and carefully, agonizingly so as Annatar whines in frustration. Annatar, as usual, is impatient, and Narvi is taking far too long. Eventually, Narvi finishes winding the device, removing the key. The device soon begins to vibrate heavily, and Annatar realizes all too late what he’s in for.

“Just put it in already, why don’t you— nnh...” Annatar moans loudly, his body arched back as Narvi shoves the vibrator between his folds. Not even Melkor had come up with something as ingenious as this, Annatar thinks, as the vibrations come in waves, reaching the deepest parts of his fana. And the longer it goes on, the more Annatar whines, shivers from pleasure.

“Enjoying yourself, are you?” asks Narvi, rubbing Annatar’s clit between their fingers, knowing it will send him over the edge.

And Annatar refuses to admit Narvi has won. “Ngh... I— I can’t... how DARE you— ah—!” It soon becomes too much, and Annatar can’t hold back anymore. Everything bubbles to the surface as he comes, just as Narvi promised, his golden hair glowing alight from the pleasure running through him.

But the device continues to vibrate even after the fact, and it shows no signs of stopping. For a brief moment, Annatar hears the sound of clinking metal beside him, something falling into one of the furnaces; he knows this is true punishment then, when Narvi’s smirk grows even wider.

“You... how does one stop this infernal contraption?!” Annatar demands to know.

“Oh, firefly, I must apologize,” Narvi teases, a sinister chuckle underlying their words as Annatar realizes in horror what awaits him. “I seem to have lost the key...”

Annatar knows he is done for.

✵

Celebrimbor’s mind is troubled these days, though he knows he deserves it. The night in the baths continues to haunt him. How easy it was, for Annatar to bring out his most shameful desires. The way Celebrimbor had betrayed Narvi, and he still can’t find the right words to say to them.

But it isn’t as if Narvi doesn’t know about Celebrimbor’s attraction to Annatar, either. Celebrimbor had even admitted as such, just a few weeks ago.

“I... I can’t stop thinking about him, Narvi. I know you still don't trust him, but...”

“It’s clear as crystal how you feel about him, Tyelpë,” Narvi had said then, with a sigh of resignation. “You couldn’t hide anything from me, even if you tried.”

“It’s just— he’s opened my eyes to things I never felt were possible,” Celebrimbor had tried to explain. “Just like we did with the Doors... imagine what we could create, if we all worked together?”

Narvi had thought about it for a moment, their expression being difficult to parse. “A very pleasant dream, that one, and there’s nothing I can do to stop you from chasing it,” they’d finally answered. “But I’m still gonna protect you, no matter what. Don’t you forget what happened to your grandfather. Sometimes things like this are too good to be true.”

“Though I always look to the future with hope... perhaps you may be right, Narvi.”

Celebrimbor’s thoughts return to the present, as he wanders through the halls of the Mírdain just after sundown, trying to recall where Narvi might be at this hour. Usually, Narvi is still in the forge, as they, like Celebrimbor, prefer to spend a bit more time perfecting their projects than the other Mírdain, even if it means going to bed late. Narvi has been far too patient with me, I ought to tell them the truth about all of this, Celebrimbor thinks. Though he knows that Narvi likely expected this to happen, he also understands he should apologize, for it’s simply the right thing to do as their husband and friend, and the Mírdain do not keep secrets.

But as Celebrimbor approaches the door to the forges, he hears something most unusual. Someone groaning, panting— is that Annatar’s voice?— and a familiar laugh, Narvi’s laugh. Something is wrong, very wrong. Celebrimbor turns the corner. The door to the forge is closed, but there are still voices. Voices that shouldn’t be there, that shouldn’t be heard together, making noises like that—

Celebrimbor peeks through a window, and the sight before him sends him into complete shock. Annatar lies atop the forge table, his naked form on display for a fully-clothed Narvi, who eagerly pushes a thick wooden phallus into Annatar’s ass. 

“Hurry up, dwarf, you’re testing my patience, gahhh—” Annatar moans loudly, whines in frustration as Narvi shoves the toy deeper inside him.

“If you’re going to be takin’ my husband’s cock, it’s best I stretch you nice and wide,” Narvi tells Annatar, and Celebrimbor finds himself becoming weak at the knees. He loves when Narvi takes control in the bedroom, but this is different. Narvi knows everything, Celebrimbor realizes. They know about all of it. And they’re preparing Annatar... for me... How long have the two of them been doing this behind closed doors?

Do they even know I’m here...?

Celebrimbor wants to make himself known, but he’s too fascinated by all of it, completely transfixed, unable to stop watching. Narvi twists Annatar’s clit between their fingers, slowly thrusting the toy in and out, taking in every moan, every gasp, every sweet sound escaping Annatar’s lips. Celebrimbor soon notices he’s painfully hard. He has to relieve himself, somehow. But it wouldn’t feel right, to come in his trousers like this, when he could come inside Annatar’s ass, stretched so perfectly for him. Annatar is a most divine gift; it is only right, that Celebrimbor and Narvi should share in this bounty together.

So Celebrimbor opens the door. He has no idea what he should say, really, but he’s too caught up in his own desires to think about anything else.

Luckily, Narvi speaks first.

“Ah, you arrived at the perfect time, Tyelpë,” says Narvi, with such confidence that it makes Celebrimbor wonder if they’d planned this. “He’s all yours, now, I got him all ready for you.”

“Wait— you aren’t going to leave, are you?” Celebrimbor asks, taken aback. “Can we not share him? If it is agreeable, I would like it if he pleasured both of us at the same time.”

Narvi seems surprised by Celebrimbor’s suggestion. “I... hadn’t thought about that. Really, I was just hopin’ to prove a point—”

“I’m right here, mind you,” Annatar grumbles, left wanting, with the toy still stuffed inside his ass. “Your point has been sufficiently proven. Now stop arguing, and fuck me already, Tyelpë.”

“Well, since you begged so desperately... how could I refuse?”

Celebrimbor quickly moves over to the forge table and wastes no time removing the toy. He watches in fascination as Annatar’s hole slowly closes, loosened up just enough and ready to be stuffed full. Celebrimbor knows he could take Annatar, right then and there, but he can’t leave Narvi wanting, either. Soon enough, Celebrimbor formulates an idea in his head.

“Narvi, grab the stool from over there.”

“Certainly.”

“And you, Annatar, on your knees,” Celebrimbor instructs, the same voice he uses when guiding the other Mírdain. “We’re going to claim you from both ends.”

“Yes, milord,” answers Annatar, obeying without hesitation. Narvi soon comes back with the stool, setting it to just the right height. They carefully unbuckle their belt, and it isn’t long before their trousers and undergarments are both discarded, Narvi revealing their plump, wet folds, surrounded by curly tufts of hair.

Annatar’s eyes widen at the sight, this offering, and he would stare longer, if not for Narvi’s voice snapping him out of his reverie. “Suck,” Narvi commands, “show me those talents of yours.”

“Yes, master Dwarf,” Annatar replies. He gently places a hand on Narvi’s bare leg, feeling the strength of their muscles and the texture of their hair as he moves closer, placing his lips around Narvi’s sensitive bud. Annatar starts out by twisting his flexible tongue, but it’s not enough. “Harder,” Narvi says, their rough hand pushing on Annatar’s head as he lets out a muffled whine, his face pressed hard into Narvi’s heat.

Meanwhile, Celebrimbor has been getting ready behind Annatar, quickly removing his own trousers and slicking up his hardened cock with the oil that Narvi has generously left there for him. Celebrimbor notices Annatar’s ass twitching— so needy, he thinks, as he carefully lines up his length with Annatar’s entrance, pushing the head of his cock inside.

“Hah... so tight, Annatar... you were made for me, I was meant to have you...” Celebrimbor lets out a sigh; Narvi prepared him well. But hearing Annatar moan like that, Celebrimbor can’t help but want to hear more of it, as he slowly pushes his cock in deeper.

“Hurry up and move, damn you, Tyelpë—!” Annatar huffs from impatience; why should he suck off Narvi if Celebrimbor won’t give him the pleasure he was promised?

“Now, where are your manners, Annatar?” Celebrimbor scolds.

“Aye, you could ask a bit more kindly than that,” adds Narvi, and just hearing that commanding tone of voice from them makes Annatar even more wet, his slick dripping onto the table from desire. 

“I need your cock... all of it,” says Annatar, more desperate than before. “Come inside me. Claim me. Take me, like you promised...”

“Ask nicely,” Celebrimbor tells him again, and Annatar groans, a mix of anger and desire all in one before the Maia finally gives in.

“Please, Tyelperinquar...” Annatar begs, weeps from need. “Please fuck me, fill me with your seed, I need you...!”

“Much better,” says Celebrimbor with a smile. “Do not forget that you are mine, Annatar Aulendil.”

Squeezing Annatar’s waist, Celebrimbor finally sheathes himself inside Annatar’s tight ass, stretched just loose enough to fit Celebrimbor’s cock, but tight enough to give him that friction Narvi knew he would crave. Celebrimbor begins to thrust, gradually building up a rhythm, as Narvi once more shoves Annatar’s face between their legs. Narvi moves their hips to match Celebrimbor’s own, the two smiths perfectly synchronized as they claim Annatar’s body together.

When Celebrimbor hears Annatar whine around Narvi’s mound, he knows then that the Maia wants more. It’s a sign to pick up the pace of his thrusts, alternating between a steady rhythm and hard, powerful thrusts deep inside Annatar’s fana. Though Narvi is doing a great job keeping Annatar quiet, they can’t help but moan as Annatar  continues sucking on Narvi’s swollen clit, pushing his forked tongue smoothly into Narvi’s slit.

“You’re doing so well, ah— so close—” Narvi grips Annatar’s head even tighter, almost pulling Annatar’s hair as the Maia sucks even harder. That last push is enough to bring Narvi over the edge, crying out more than Celebrimbor ever expected, moving their hips through their climax as Annatar takes in every bit of slick dripping from Narvi’s heat.

Annatar doesn’t get a moment to rest though, and he certainly doesn’t want it. “Tyelpë, more— ah!” Annatar moans; his mouth is free now, but he can hardly form words, as Celebrimbor begins circling his fingers around Annatar’s clit. Celebrimbor holds Annatar close, taking in the Maia’s heat, the pressure building inside him, Annatar meeting Celebrimbor’s thrusts with the movement of his hips.

“Annatar... so good for me,” Celebrimbor says, panting, “so perfect—” Celebrimbor comes hard with a drawn out moan, breathing heavily as he spills his warm seed deep inside Annatar, just as the Maia wanted.

Annatar isn’t far behind, as he comes with a desperate cry, the feeling of being claimed, used. But as he rides the wave of his climax and his fana recovers from the high, he soon feels empty again. Even after Celebrimbor made him come this hard, it’s still not enough, he realizes. He needs to be filled completely. So Annatar begs, as Celebrimbor slides his cock out, the tiniest bit of his spend still leaking from Annatar’s ass.

“Hah... Tyelperinquar, I... I need—”

“Still not satisfied?” Celebrimbor asks.

“I need you both inside me,” Annatar explains, sitting up on the forge table. “Right now.”

“So demanding, firefly,” Narvi observes, turning to grab their strap and wooden cock from a side table. “Awfully rude, you are. What did Tyelpë say about manners?”

“Such a ridiculous display. I’ve already told you what I want,” Annatar huffs.

“Ah, but true partnerships must be founded on trust,” Celebrimbor reminds Annatar, wiping his cock down with a wet cloth.

“And you aren’t going to earn it by demanding everyone obey your whims,” adds Narvi, securing their strap.

Annatar sighs, once again forced to concede. “Please...” Still silence. It’s not enough. “Please... fuck me with your cocks, please fill me—!”

“That’s more like it,” says Celebrimbor, as he strokes himself again to full hardness; it’s incredibly satisfying, hearing someone as powerful as Annatar beg for him once more. “Move back a little, I’m going to lie down here,” he instructs, climbing onto the forge table.

Annatar listens, kneeling and turning to face Celebrimbor, though he is worried about one thing. “Tyelperinquar, are you sure the table can handle this?”

Narvi nods in agreement. “Aye, that’s a good question, actually—”

“Worry not, dear friends, I’m sure I’ve calculated it,” Celebrimbor reassures them, though admittedly, he hasn’t really thought about it at all. Surely, it won’t become a problem later, he tells himself, lying back, his length perked up. “Are you ready for me, Annatar?”

“No need to ask, Tyelpë.”

Annatar straddles Celebrimbor, gazing into his bright silver eyes, before lowering himself onto Celebrimbor’s cock, letting out a satisfied moan as he adjusts to the thickness, sticking his ass out for Narvi to use. Narvi is getting ready, too, coating the wooden cock in plenty of oil before pressing a finger inside Annatar’s ass to lubricate it as well. Annatar whines a little in anticipation, he wants to move so badly, but he needs Narvi’s cock, too, and he doesn’t want to be rude about it.

He doesn’t have to wait long, though. Narvi kneels on the other side of the table, pressing their cock against Annatar’s entrance. The wooden cock is just as big as Celebrimbor’s own, just the shape Annatar likes, and he groans as Narvi slowly pushes it inside him, little by little until it is all the way inside. Already, he feels so full, Celebrimbor beneath him, Narvi behind him. “You take our cocks so well,” says Celebrimbor, caressing Annatar’s cheek. Annatar purrs from satisfaction, a smirk on his face as he soaks in the praise, and Celebrimbor wonders just how long Annatar has fantasized about this very thing.

Naturally, it is Annatar who begins the dance, shifting his hips, encouraging Celebrimbor and Narvi to follow. Annatar pulls Celebrimbor into a deep kiss, gliding his tongue into Celebrimbor’s waiting mouth. Celebrimbor soon gasps for breath, moaning as he takes in the feeling of Annatar’s silky walls around his cock and thrusts up into Annatar’s tight cunt, dripping wet just for him. Celebrimbor grips Annatar tightly to his chest as he quickens his pace, and Annatar can no longer keep silent, his sweet moans echoing into the halls outside the forge.

“Ah— Tyelpë, Narvi, fuck me harder,” Annatar pleads, almost shouting, pressing himself deeper onto Celebrimbor’s cock as his fana begins to heat up, his hair glowing a gentle orange.

“Careful what you wish for,” teases Narvi. They match the rhythm of their husband’s thrusts, gripping Annatar’s thighs with rough hands and a smirk on their face, their wooden cock rubbing up hard against their clit. Narvi soon slams their cock into Annatar’s ass, gasps escaping the Maia’s lips.

And Celebrimbor isn’t done, either. The relentless movements of Annatar’s hips and the heat emanating from his fana bring Celebrimbor closer and closer to the edge, pressure building inside, about to erupt. The frenzied dance continues— Annatar slamming down, grinding onto Celebrimbor’s cock, Celebrimbor thrusting hard into Annatar, Narvi following close behind. Celebrimbor can tell Narvi is close, too— their breaths become heavier, legs shaking, their body desperate for release.

“More— please...” Annatar whines, his words devolving into nothing but moans and sinful noises.

“Anything for you, Annatar... hah—”

“Ahh— Tyelpë...!”

With one powerful thrust, everything bursts; Celebrimbor’s cock reaches the deepest part of Annatar’s fana as he finally comes, warm spend flooding out of him in waves, filling Annatar with his release. It is then Annatar truly unravels, as he comes hard, crying out from purest pleasure, Celebrimbor’s name on his lips, his walls clenched tightly around Celebrimbor’s cock. Not in a long time has Annatar felt this full, as he’s put in his rightful place, loved by two great minds whose ambitions match his own. It almost makes him want to stay as Annatar, despite everything, never wanting to let go of this feeling— is this what Celebrimbor meant by trust?

Annatar rides Celebrimbor’s cock through his climax and pushes back into Narvi. The friction, the sweat, the smell of flames— it’s enough to bring Narvi to their own release, letting out a breathy “Firefly...” amidst their moans. Narvi pulls out of Annatar slowly, gripping the forge table as they catch their breath. Celebrimbor takes in every sensation— the feeling of Annatar’s tight heat around him, the beautiful sounds of his voice, and above all else, the golden glow of his eyes, promising the whole world to him, a new future. Narvi can feel it all, too, their eyes set on that same future, the three of them working together.

However, those thoughts are soon interrupted by a harsh crack beneath the three of them. The vision comes crashing down along with the forge table, the three smiths landing squarely on the hard stone floor, Annatar’s landing saved by Celebrimbor’s lap.

“Oi, Tyelpë, what is the meaning of this?!” Narvi shouts, shoving the broken boards out of the way.

Annatar is not amused, either, groaning as he slides off of Celebrimbor, the Fëanorian’s spend still leaking from his entrance. “Did you not tell us it would be sturdy enough, Curufinwë Tyelperinquar—”

“I... I may have miscalculated,” Celebrimbor tries to explain with an awkward smile. “Though, it would be more accurate to say that I did not calculate this at all. My... deepest apologies.”

“Well, then,” Narvi huffs, “We have our first project as a trio. Fixing this blasted mess.”

“I’ll... make sure that we test it properly first—”

“Oh, I will be involved in this, mark my words,” Annatar insists. “And I will not tolerate any mistakes.”

“Your help is much appreciated,” says Celebrimbor, his smile full of warmth. “How I love you both... Truly, where would Ost-in-Edhil be, without you?”

Narvi can’t stay angry at Celebrimbor for too long. “Aww, c’mere, Tyelpë...” Narvi says with a chuckle, eagerly pulling their husband into their warm embrace. “You too, firefly,” they add, yanking Annatar’s shoulder to drag him into the hug, as well. “I’m not leaving you out of this one. You’ve made your bed, now you’re gonna lie in it.”

“However I can be of service to you,” Annatar teases, kissing Celebrimbor tenderly on the cheek. He cuddles between Celebrimbor and Narvi, curling up like a cat, clinging to them and refusing to leave.

“Your love is enough for me, Annatar,” Celebrimbor promises. “You belong here, you will always have a place here, and I will never regret extending my hand to you.”

“Ah— thank you, Tyelpë...” Annatar replies with a gentle sigh, a hint of sadness. “...Thank you both.”

Celebrimbor knows not how this story will end, with some of Annatar’s most painful secrets still kept behind the veil. But he does know one thing: he is blessed with the love of two spirits who understand his heart more than anyone, and that is a treasure far more precious than rings.

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