Swear That You'll Belong To Me by vulpeculi4r  

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Swear That You'll Belong To Me

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Mairon admires himself in the full body mirror in his chambers in Ost-in-Edhil.

The last rays of the setting sun fall in through a tall window by his side, making his pale hair look almost as fiery as what his true form would be like.

He wears only a thin robe, opened at the front, so he may marvel at the entirety of this form. Mairon's skin is pale and unblemished; like this, he is shorter and softer than he is in truth, his creamy thighs a bit thicker and his chest rounded out into small, supple breasts.

His features too, are just ever so slightly more delicate. Mairon even added a little beauty mark, right under his left eye, to pretty himself up even more.

Eyes. The eyes that stare back at him are his own in truth. No mater which form he takes, he can never seem to get rid of the golden shimmer of them.

Not that he minds, exactly. His eyes are beautiful, the aureate glimmer matching his fiery hair perfectly. It goes surprisingly well with the silver blond he wears now, too.

The only downside is that he thinks the otherworldly beauty of his eyes might have added to making some of the Eldar suspicious of him. After all, yellow gold isn't exactly a common sight, and Mairon supposed it could have an…unsettling effect.

Not for his Tyelpe, though. One of the first things Celebrimbor, the poor fool, had said to him was how pretty his eyes were.

The man seemed rather taken with Mairon's form in general. He had caught the elf staring - leering - in an entirely unsubtle way repeatedly. Of course, Mairon encouraged this, by putting himself into salacious positions and increasingly lewd outfits.

He smirks at himself in the mirror. He already has Celebrimbor in the palm of his hand, and the elf doesn't even know about all of this body's features.

Not yet, anyway. Tonight, Mairon is planning to change that. The final move to drag Celebrimbor fully into his web.

The garment he has laid out for tonight can barely be counted as such. It is almost fully see through, and the light fabric leaves a lot of Mairon's body exposed, with it's low cut that shows off most of his torso. The skirt goes all the way to the floor, but that matters little with the slits at the sides that go all the way up to his hips.

He smiles gleefully at the ensemble. He'll match it with jewellery - a body chain, perhaps - but only pieces Tyelpe made for him. His blacksmith hadn't been exactly subtle, with he way he kept making jewellery specifically for him - gold to match his eyes, pearls and opals to go with his hair, a pair of ruby earrings, simply because Tyelpe thought they would look good on him.

His favourite is a filigree gold chain that connects a necklace - more of a collar, really - to his pierced nipples. When Celebrimbor had seen him shirtless the first time, he had seemed especially fascinated by that. Apparently the sight hadn't left his mind after, since barely a week later he had presented Mairon with the chain, blushing and stammering, unable to look him in the eye.

Mairon gets to work putting the outfit on, tying the straps of the cloth around his neck to hold the flimsy garment up, and draping himself in chains and necklaces. He put on the ruby earrings as well, for good measure, and adds a few rings Celebrimbor had made for him. Those, especially, make his eyes gleam, a smile full of anticipation stretching over his face.

Once he is ready and all dolled up, he sets out towards Celebrimbor's own chambers. He invited Mairon there, to share a special sweet wine he recently acquired with him. Mairon couldn't care less about that, of course, but getting Tyelpe drunk is in his best interest.

Because Mairon has his own plans for tonight. Plans that involve Tyelpe's cock in his cunt. He smiles giddily to himself; everything is working out beautifully for him. And aside from his plotting, there is also the added bonus of getting fucked by a strong and gorgeous elf, and a descendant of Fëanor at that.

He doesn't have to go far before he reaches Tyelpe's rooms. He personally ensured Mairon's chambers would be close to his own.

Mairon allows himself a moment to breathe. He adjusts his clothes, makes sure to tug his hair behind his pointed ears to show off the rubies dangling from them, and, most importantly, reminds himself to be Annatar now, not Mairon.

Annatar knocks on the door.

Celebrimbor's reply comes almost immediately, but not before Annatar hears the scratching of a chair being pulled back, followed by the dull thud of said chair falling over.

"Just a moment!" Celebrimbor calls; Annatar smiles, sweet and gentle, the way he knows will make his Tyelpe blush.

The door swings open; Annatar looks up at Tyelpe - in this form, the elf is taller than him - and flutters his eyelashes.

"May I come in?"

Tyelpe's pupils are blown wide, almost eclipsing the blue grey of his eyes. He can't take his eyes off Annatar, looking him over slowly; he's so distracted by Annatar he doesn't even welcome him inside properly; he just nods and steps aside.

Annatar keeps smiling gently, making sure to brush against Celebrimbor as he passes. Inside, Mairon smirks. Hook, line and sinker.

He takes a moment to look around the room - Annatar has never been here before, and he cannot wait to have a closer look, once Celebrimbor has passed out, either from wine or, if all goes according to plan, pleasure.

A room can reveal much about a person, after all. Annatar's gaze lingers on the bed, in a way he knows Tyelpe couldn't possibly miss.

When he turns back to the elf, his cheeks and ears have turned a few shades darker with blush. His eyes are still glued to Annatar, and he wouldn't be surprised if Celebrimbor would actually start drooling.

My poor, simple fool, Mairon thinks, careful not to let his thoughts show on his face.

"So," he says, in Annatar's melodic voice, "you said something about wine?"

That seems to finally break Tyelpe out of his spell. Annatar almost regrets speaking up - perhaps he should've kept Tyelpe dazed and starry eyed, kissed him like that, and cut all this careful seduction short.

But that would've been too easy, and Annatar was not one to turn down a challenge.

"Yes! Yes, of course, the wine, that's why you're here," he mutters that last part, already turned away from Annatar. He probably wasn't meant to hear that but, alas, his hearing was superior to that even of the Eldar.

How terribly intrusive this must be for Celebrimbor - Annatar could hear every little sound from him, every gasp he tried to hide, and, if he was close enough, even the way his heart would hammer faster in his chest when Annatar was near.

Annatar feels like teasing his elf. He's played at being coy long enough already; tonight, he's no longer inclined to waste more time. He wants Tyelpe's cock inside of him now, and he's done being denied.

"Oh?" Annatar hums, fluttering his lashes as he glides closer to Celebrimbor. "Was there something else you'd rather have us doing tonight? I'm sure," he whispers seductively as he reaches up to run one hand over Celebrimbor's braided hair, "that we could come up with something else. Something more, hm, physical, perhaps?"

"Oh, um, well, I suppose," Tyelpe stutters, taking a few steps back until he bumps into the bedpost. Just like Annatar wanted him too. It's almost too easy.

"I've been thinking about you, Tyelpe," he purrs, twirling one of the smaller braids that frame Tyelpe's face between his fingers.

"You have?"

Celebrimbor sounds breathless; his face is still flushed, and he looks at Annatar like he wants to devour him. Little does he know, he is the one who will be devoured.

"Of course I have," Annatar sighs, stepping closer until their chests are pressed together, "you're strong and handsome, but also so…so impossibly kind. And you care for me, don't you?"

It scares Annatar, to realise he isn't lying. But this is not the moment to dwell on silly things like that; besides, all he's said are observations anyone who knew Celebrimbor for more than five minutes could make as well. It means nothing.

"Of course I care for you, Annatar," Celebrimbor says; his voice has gone low and rough, in a way he's never heard before but doesn't mind in the slightest.

But there is a twinge of hurt, of jealousy, that shouldn't be there, when Celebrimbor says Annatar's name. Then again, who else is there, that Tyelpe could possibly want?

"Then prove it," Annatar purrs, before he loops his arms around Celebrimbor's neck, and pulls the elf down until he can finally connect their lips.

The kiss isn't supposed to be gentle, but Annatar can't help but melt into it. Tyelpe's strong arms wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, until there really can't be any space left between them. And Annatar lets himself be held, lets himself feels safe and secure for a moment. He can't remember the last time he felt so right.

They break apart all too soon, and Annatar wants nothing more than to chase Tyelpe's lips. It's as if a spell has been cast over him; for a moment he even considers if he could've been drugged. But one look at Celebrimbor's face, his blown pupils, the earnest, shy smile on his spit slick lips, tells Annatar all he needs to know. There is nothing nefarious at work here. Well, aside from himself, of course.

He walks them over to the side of the bed where he makes Celebrimbor sit on the mattress in front of him. Annatar steps between his legs and interlaces his fingers behind Tyelpe's head. As if by instinct, Celebrimbor's hands find their way around his waist again. Annatar finds he doesn't…hate being held like that. It's strange, feeling so small. Fragile, almost. Things Mairon has never been, could never be. But right now, he is not Mairon.

"Will you help me take all this off?" Annatar pouts and starts playing with Celebrimbor's raven black hair again. "Please, Tyelpe?"

Celebrimbor is nodding already, eager like an excited puppy who is told he did something well. Mairon would say something teasing now, good boy, maybe. Annatar holds himself back. He has to make Celebrimbor his first, truly his, before he can reveal more of him.

There's a moment of hesitation from Tyelpe, before he gets to work on Annatar's gown. He's not sure if it stems from nerves, uncertainty, or if Celebrimbor just doesn't know where to start taking off the garment.

Either way, it does not matter for long. Soon Celebrimbor's strong hands are unmaking knots and opening clasps, until Annatar stands bare before him, safe for the gleaming chains and jewels that still adorn him.

He doesn't pretend at shyness - he's always been free with his body around Tyelpe, showing off more and more skin. There is no reason to play at bashfulness now.

Celebrimbor stares again, more so than he did earlier. Annatar feels how his gaze lingers on his chest; then his gaze travels lower, between Annatar's legs. He has to bite back a smirk at the sharp intake of breath that comes from Tyelpe when he realises Annatar has a cunt.

Tyelpe opens his mouth, his eyes never leaving Annatar's groin, but he quiets him with a finger pressed against his soft lips before Tyelpe gets out a word.

Perhaps, if he behaves, he'll let Tyelpe touch later. First though, he needs to divest his elf of his clothing as well. It won't do for Annatar to be the only one vulnerable like this. Besides, he wants to look his fill of Celebrimbor as well, just as his elf has the honour of doing with him.

Other than Tyelpe, Annatar doesn't hesitate. Celebrimbor wears simple clothes, things that are easily replaced, so Annatar is careless with them, more ripping the fabric that taking it off.

Tyelpe isn't complaining, seemingly all to happy to follow Annatar's lead. And isn't he always? Such a loyal hound, who defies his kin for Annatar, who heads Annatar's advice in all matters, who looks to Annatar for guidance.

Perhaps he will learn, Annatar's treacherous heart whispers, to look at Mairon the same.

Celebrimbor is bare before him now, his clothes - or what remains of them - in a heap at their feet. Annatar pushes the elf down on the bed, straddling his waist. Again, Celebrimbor's hands find their place around his hips.

He allows himself only a moment to admire Tyelpe's form - there will be time enough for that later, he should hope. Right now, he still has a plan to complete. But this small indulgence he thinks he deserves, after all his hard work.

Celebrimbor is tall and wide for an elf; not as much as his uncle, Maestros, whose memory sends a pleasant shiver down Annatar's spine, but still enough to notice.

There is a softness to his stomach, and for a second Annatar forgets himself and thinks how it would be comfortable to lay at his side, curled up against him, with Tyelpe's strong arms enveloping him.

It's unbearably innocent, this thought. It unsettles Annatar deeply.

Quickly, he focuses back on the task at hand. Celebrimbor is already hard against him; Annatar himself has come prepared - he stretched himself earlier, ensuring he is wet and open for his Tyelpe. All he needs to do now is take the elf inside of him and have Celebrimbor fill his womb with his seed.

It goes by in a haze, the rest of it. Tyelpe's cock is thicker than he'd have thought, and it takes him a moment to adjust. Before he starts moving, Tyelpe removes one hand from Annatar's hip to gently trace over his stomach. Confused, Annatar looks down and- oh. There's a little bulge, where Tyelpe is inside of him. He can see it and, when he raises his own hand, to press slightly down on it, he can feel it as well.

It makes him think of what he will look like soon, when his belly will be round with Celebrimbor's child. Will Tyelpe still touch him so reverently then? It's a silly thought - Annatar knows his elf will, will be loyal, will be only his, only his, only his.

He rides Celebrimbor until his thighs are burning and he thinks he'll fall apart. It shouldn't be possible, for a mere elf to unmake him like this, but here he is, whining and moaning, with his eyes rolled back as Celebrimbor brings him to his peak.

Annatar goes limp after, like a puppet whose strings have been cut. Celebrimbor flips them over, and Annatar lets himself be rearranged and manhandled into position, until he lays with his legs spread wide and folded in half, so Celebrimbor can continue pounding into him.

Finally, Tyelpe groans and shudders above him. The elf leans down, first to kiss Annatar tenderly, then to press their foreheads together. Warm heat spreads inside him, and Annatar smiles. His plan is complete - or the first step of it, at least.

He is exhausted but sated; he stretches out languidly on the bed and draws Tyelpe into his arms.

"Thank you," he whispers, as he guides Tyelpe's head to rest against his breast. Celebrimbor only gives a satisfied hum in response. He wraps his arms around Annatar, and it feels just as safe as he imagined.

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Chapter End Notes

Tysm for reading!! I'd really appreciate some feedback & come find me over on <a href = "https://www.tumblr.com/vulpeculi4r">tumblr</a> if you want :D