Sitting astride his lap, forcing air to pass into her burning lungs, Galadriel breathed at last. "So is this how you finally bind yourself to my light?"
"As much as I enjoy this talk of binding and bondage, I will give you a short answer so we may continue with other engagements. No, our binding in that nature must occur on Midsummer night. And it doesn't matter if we have… connected deeper in other ways or not. Now, shall we?" His voice rumbled into her chest from his own. Gripping her face in his palm, he plied his lips against her as a man starved. Barely a tickle on his body, her hand weaved across the firm ridges of his stomach, his pectorals. Hard like the iron and metals he forged. She felt the pulse of his manhood beneath her, rising to her touch.
A single finger snuck its way between their mouths, stopping him firmly mid-caress. "But, what if in doing this, we…" she whispered, as if her words carried the greatest secret.
"Now I really wish you had asked after my day before our nightly pursuits," he grumbled, but he reached behind him for a bleached- white fur, draping its luxurious lengths around her shoulders. Enough to warm her, but not modest enough to cover the perfect sight of her pert breasts. "To make you a true queen, to share ourselves, our very souls, it will require a blood rite, and while intimate, it will be nothing quite so carnal as I am still endeavoring to do here," he replied; his tone was mischievous but his twisted smirk even more so.
"Elves are not carnal beings, my lord," Galadriel taunted back, letting the fur droop further from her shoulders.
"You have fooled me, and I am the most ancient being of this age, I believe."
"Then you ought to know better," she chided, closing the weight of her gifted blanket tightly over her chest. But she did not shift off of his lap, he noticed with a wicked grin.
Without warning, he reached into the opening of her feeble cover, grasping her left peaked breast in his palm. The cry that shattered her outward confidence could have sent him into climax alone. "I beg to differ, besides, you are no mere elf," he growled. Her bluest eyes rolled back in her head as he toyed and kneaded her,
The shudder that passed through her twisted her beautiful complexion into a perfect expression of shock. Brushing his mouth against her pointed ear once more, he breathed, "Have you never been touched like this before?"
She shook her head, a full bodied shiver trembling through her bones.
"Have you never…" his question died on his lips as her eyes blinked open, an almost unsuppressed rage behind those bottomless blue depths.
"I have a child," she hissed, "a daughter born to a loving father who was taken before his time." He said nothing, but his touch pressed unmoving against her back and her breast. "But since then, no."
His jaw tightened so hard, she could almost hear his teeth grinding. "And I take it from your rage, I am the cause of his taking, at least in your mind," his words were quiet but cold.
She said nothing. No words could surface through the boiling, bubbling emotions that warred within her. After a breath, she could eke out a single "No" to answer him and quelle any suspicion. She swallowed the bile that burned at the back of throat, a burning that would only hurt more if she allowed herself to acknowledge she sat astride Sauron himself. "No," she forced her words louder, "he left me and never returned." Not untrue, she congratulated herself.
At that she resisted his next movement out of pure instinctual surprise. Gently, slowly, he cradled her head, pulling the lustrous golden lengths of her hair back from her shoulders, tucking the top of her head into his chest. His chin resting gently on the top of her hair. She could feel the soft flutter of his breath down her tresses and tickling her ears. And then she noticed the racing and constant beat of his heart through where she was nestled into him.
"I am sorry," he replied tenderly, "and if you are lying, and I am still the cause for your loss, then I am sorry all the more."
After an unending moment, he hung his head, his hands falling to his own sides and resting on the bed beside them. He could not meet her eyes, barely stirring to breathe. This was the Halbrand of her memory, the sorrows of horrors through ages untold spilling from his very marrow. The scars of his brutality marring his ancient beauty, a beauty once robbed from him, opening again to reveal wounds fresh and seeping a need for redemption. He had said sorry once before, flames of the forge in Numenór dancing on his golden skin, sorry for her pain he caused with her brother's… no, she cautioned herself. This had to be done. She could not let the ages of suffering and sorrow blind her to her new battles. Battles fought with deception and desire and not lances or blades. Something he had instructed her during those precious days in Numenór. She had long stopped galloping to think. But now was not the time for galloping, but riding, she allowed the thought with a scandalous grin.
"Oh, Halbrand," she breathed, letting go her hold on the fur about her, which dropped to the floor with a soft thud. Both her hands reached for his dejected face to cup it in her fingers gingerly. "I have caused pain too, even creatures of light cast a shadow on others at times, and I have caused my fair share," she whispered, letting her lips almost tickle against his own as she lowered his stubbled chin and mouth towards her. "I plunged you back into an abyss when I rejected you that day in Eregion, and now I am dragging us both back to the surface to breathe in the free air again."
"Be careful," he rasped, opening his eyes to reveal their growing flame-like color as he peered through slitted pupils. "If I go back to that abyss, not even you will be able to drag me back."
"Then let me drag you towards the surface and towards the bed that awaits us," her voice a low-toned lilt as she slowly slipped her hand into the top of his trousers, grazing against every inch of his stomach and thighs. But not his ever-growing arousal, not yet. With all her warrior might, she thrust against his chest, pushing him flat on his back with a swallowed grunt.
A taunting smirk twisted his lips as he took a deep, satisfied sigh. His arms wrapped about her shoulders, fighting to pull her down with him, his strength overcoming her despite a fair show of resistance. His laugh, a staccato chuckle, shook through her from his chest. But before any comment could escape those perfect lips, he trapped her mouth in his kiss, flipping her with barely a flex of his muscles, and bearing his full weight on top of her.
Her heart dropped into her stomach, warm and pleasured, molten and flowing desire coursing through her veins. Every moment she remembered her deepest connection with him heated her core and dried her mouth. Moments of him on horseback, armor shining as they fought side by side. His fevered glare as they rode for hope of healing his battle wound. His shining chest and torso treated under elven care in Eregion, the same body that now pressed her deeper into the downy folds of the bed,
His mouth traveled lower, that delicious stubble of his chin scoring her neck, spiking shivers to the tips of her toes. Fingers traced the damp skin of her stomach, lowering to the space that dripped with desire at his scalding touch. She bucked at the contact, wanting nothing more than to finish what she had begun. Galadriel's fingers clawed into the band of his pants once more, eager to proceed, she assured herself.
Relax, my Queen, his deep voice a rumbling tickle within her mind. His controlling presence invaded her thoughts like a smoke swirling around. There is no need to rush something so pleasurable.
Her eyes widened as he met her gaze, and somehow his voice in her mind felt more of an intimate intrusion than his cock would.
Oh, the things I've pictured doing with you and to you since you left me…. Her vision blurred… images of passion filled her sight, their coupling every way she could imagine and then more…. Sitting, standing, on the bed, on horseback…. Chained, behind bars that resembled their cells in Numenór….the images more of impressions for what was more, she could feel them, almost hear them in her mind. Each thrust in her visions sending shivers of pleasure and pressure within her core. As if her were already within her. Perhaps he was, she was too overtaken to tell.
A thrumming pulse of magic reverberated in the air, opening her eyes, he let her see around them. Candles suddenly lit on the bed stands, the room cloaked in warm darkness, both their naked bodies now wrapped in the softest linen sheets of lively green. The Valinorian silver band on her hand nearly burned her skin at the dark magic, but its burn was that of ice and frost. A chill spread from her hands where they rested on the spread of shoulders. Their chill passed from her touch it seemed as his slitted eyes widened in shock at the cold.
With a growl, he raised himself up on his knees, grabbing her hand. He tried to pry the ring from her finger, the sorcerer knowing the source of magic in an instant. But the moment his hold latched around the band, a pulse of bluish light blinded them both, the smoke of his presence in her mind clearing like a breeze pushing away the morning fog. Sauron stared at her, kneeling between her thighs as he was. His face was warm and ruddy, reddened with his still prominent desire. But his eyes now shone their human mossy green, round and black centers once more stared back in shock and awe at the return of magic.
"That's most curious," he whispered aloud, his chest rising and falling with the quickened breath of exertion.
Galadriel's heart raced, but she buried her confusion and questioning thoughts in the mask of her own desire. Her coyest, lustrous smile on her lips, she sat up slightly, weaving her hand into his hair and running her nails through the scratching stubble of his beard. "Perhaps you should ask a lady's permission before you enter her mind," she whispered, lacing her voice with heavy need. "But you have my permission to enter other things," she added with a gentle caress on his lips. Just that little taste of her light reignited his desire and distracted him from his own nagging, suspicious questions.
He fell down upon her, a hungry predator ready to feast. As he finally plunged into her, the room plunged into darkness.