She was little more than a shadow within the halls of Lorien. Working in the library for such long stretches, she often found herself alone. But she liked it that way. It was easier to suppress her longing, her craving for a few minutes in his arms. And for the most part, she was able to deny herself of him, the books filling her head so full that she had no room for her own thoughts. It was moments, days, even weeks or months like these that she could handle. It was times like these that she could be strong enough not to return to him. Not to run to him were they would fall upon each other like beings starved, and consume each other until there was little left to each of them, save her anger at herself, and his satisfaction. She did not want to give in to him. He who had watched her every move since her arrival in Lorien. But only watched. He knew she would return to him. She always did.
Because he knew, as she did, in the back of her mind in whispered voices, that he was the only one who could make her forget. He chased away what so haunted her, for a few hours, no matter the guilt that would consume her afterwards. She worked so hard to suppress her emotions, only to have them all catch up with her at one point or another. All the loneliness and frustration and craving for him would crash over her, too strong to control on her own, and drive her into his arms again.
The longer she denied herself of him, the worse it became. As the weeks would pass, she would slowly withdraw further into herself, until she became nothing more than living ice. The Lord who cared for the tomes of the library often wondered about the slim, cold elleth who gave so much of herself, at times leaving the library at the same time he did, only to return later and continue working until he arrived the next morning. He knew she had some demon plaguing her, but he had no inkling as to the source of her pain. He did not know that his own friend, the Marchwarden Haldir, so beloved by all (especially the ladies of Lorien) was the cause of so much of her torment.
His presence was like a leech, sucking the life out of her, and she let him have it. She was addicted to him, the way one could be to a rare and potent drug. She could never give him up. The need for him
consumed her. She was lost, and she found herself giving up slowly. She was addicted to him.
He needed her with the same desire as she needed him. He however, had another outlet for his desires, whiling the time away until she would return to his arms again with others, his bed sport nothing more than that. A pleasant preoccupation. He would drive all others from his bed for her within a moment. He knew she would return to him, she always did. He however, needed his casual liaisons, for if he allowed himself to centre his longing, he would fade waiting for her. Theirs was a sad existence. One would not be with the other for his nature, the other could not be with her because of it.
That night was worse than others. A dark night, with no moon to shed light upon the shadows. A night of hidden lovers and secrets. A night to share. But she had no one. Yes she did, a voice whispered, you have him. And try as she might to fight the tiny voice, she found herself giving in to it. It had been so long since she had last gone to him, having thought she had finally beaten her addiction. She was wrong. It was so much worse for the time she had been away. She nearly collapsed, crushed by the sudden weight of her emotions. She got up from the ground, somehow, she had fallen to her knees, without even having realizing it. Then she ran.
"Once more," she whispered to him, as she crashed into his arms, ignoring his satisfied smile. He knew. He always knew. "Just one more time. "
"You always return to me," he whispered to her, as he thrust her against the wall of his talan, "You know you do. You cannot deny yourself."
"Never again," she whispered back, whether to convince herself or him, she was not sure, before kissing him with such longing and fervor that neither could waste the breathe to speak anymore. There coupling was rough and swift, both unable to wait for the other. And when he sheathed himself within her, he knew that he could not continue like this. And neither could she.
A/N; Just a short one to tide you all over. I don't know if I'll write more on this. I am severely lacking inspiration. Am feeling quite mobid.lol. reviews would be very welcome