The Question of Dominance
"Beg for me," she said, relishing the one moment when she had power over him.
"I would not, even if you offered the smallest bean."
"I am not offering you food," Nerdanel growled. He raised an eyebrow playfully.
Her hand slipped down between their sweat-soaked bodies, in the secrecy of his forge. Groaning, his head fell back, braced himself against the table, but he still had yet to yield. Grabbing her shoulders, he moved swiftly, gaining the advantage over her.
"Will I never be able to rule you, Feanor?"
"You already do, wife," he whispered as he pushed inside her.