Some explicit steam for you, dear reader, drop a review if you like.
"Galadriel," the soft tenor voice echoed, muffled and distant. Again, he called, "Galadriel." She saw silver light behind her eyes, barely more than a pinprick, but it was there. She watched her hand reach for it, but it darted and danced between the shadows. But with that feeble light, she woke with a bloom of hope in her heart.
Celeborn.
She awoke in almost total darkness, save the guttering embers in the grate at the foot of the bed. A single tear leached from her eye. Her ring pulse with light within her, like ripples that flowed in her veins to warm her heart. She would have hope even in the bed of the Dark Lord. Hope for finding them, the lost elven kings and warriors, and then she would bring them home from this place and free them. And yet, Galadriel had seen too much and dealt too much death to believe Celeborn alive. But there were others, so many gone. If it wasn't her lost husband she would find somewhere in the stinking bowels of this darkness, there would surely be those who needed saving. At that thought, her ring almost seemed to whisper inside her ear, You will.
All seemed muffled, like sound underwater. But once her ring pulsed a final time to steel over her heart with warm resolve, sound became intensely harsh to her pointed ear. She could hear everything: every crackle of dying fire, every harsh breeze that rasped at the window. Every breath of the man… the Maia that laid in bed just out of her reach. In the dim light, he looked as he did on that fated raft, the wrinkles of his smile lines, eased in his sleep, his chest rising and falling. As if ancient beings needed to sleep, or breathe, she sniffed in derision, rubbing her ring with her thumb out of habit.
At the soft sniff, his eyes shot open, soft mossy green and unblinking. She had yet to notice. He rolled on to his side to simply stare at her, at every mark his fucking had caused on her alabaster skin just hours ago. A grin crept across his lips as her sapphire eyes found his gaze, eagerly assessing his next move. He would maintain that upper hand over her now. And so, he sidled flush against her body, slowly, gently bringing her back into his embrace.
His skin was always hot to the touch, the boiling and bubbling of power barely contained behind his human form. But Galadriel thrilled at the contact, despite her racing heart. He did not kiss her, pressing his forehead against hers instead, his breath mingling on her lips as his hand traced along her arm, her side, finally coming to a rest on her shoulder. The best of leverage points to throw you down and fuck you again, her mind judged with slight disgust at the desiring shiver that ran down to her core at the thought.
Sauron laughed once, "I do not need to read your mind with magic to know you're still in a battle with your own will, Galadriel."
Her eyes narrowed as they always did when she was peeved with him. He laughed again, "But you are right that with my hand here," he tapped the crest of her shoulder, "it would be very easy to do this…" they both grunted as he flipped her on her back, carefully threading himself between her legs, and taking a moment with both hands to skim his touch down her bent legs. Then he trapped her beneath him once more, his arousal pressing into her belly, her navel, such was his size.
"I don't care how much you use my body, but stay out of my mind, Halbrand," she said, direct and coldly, but not with the genuine raging emotion that matched her face.
"I can't help it if you fairly send your thoughts and emotions my way. You will have to learn to protect your mind if you are to gain my power, my Queen," he purred, pressing his palms into the bed to look down at the perfect display of she-elf beneath him. Perfectly at his mercy. "Though I would miss knowing just how you would like to be touched," he growled, mimicking a thrust against her mound, even that little friction sending a flush to her cheeks and a desirous roll to her hips. Easing to one side, he slinked his hand between her legs, finding her eager and wet already.
She gasped at the contact, foreign to her. Elves never dared touch that area, certainly not in this manner, and Sauron leered as the memory and knowledge of her kind's bland love-making passed through her mind. She could feel his inward stare, like a hawk perched from above in a branch. Staring in wait for their prey. With no warning, he slipped two then three fingers inside of her, her body arching involuntarily, her eyes flying open in pure shock and delight. Last night, they had been ferocious, rough, a battle for control and climax, with a bite on his shoulder still to prove it. But now, he would teach her to crave him, to be haunted by her desire for his touch, his cock, and no longer haunted by her burning revenge.
He kept his fingers working, Galadriel unable to form any coherent words between her dry and biting lips. A growl rumbled in his throat, slowly lowering his body over her writhing form, that hungry smirk creeping closer. She licked her lips ready for a kiss, but as his lips sucked a peak of her breast, she let out a barely stifled cry. Throwing the back of her hand between her teeth she bit down, lest she should scream.
With his free hand, he gripped hers, removing it from her mouth and pinning it to the bed, her voice echoing in the room for a moment. And Sauron delighted, rewarding her with pleasure enough to make her scream louder as he grazed his teeth on the straining nipple of her breast.
Galadriel's sight blurred, stars clouding her vision as muscle after muscle spasmed in delicious and warm pleasure. His laughter, deep and low in her ear, brought her back into the room. "And that is just the beginning, my Queen," he rasped. Despite the voracious look behind the darkening green of his eyes, he paused to stroke her hair and place a kiss on her forehead. "Now," he whispered against the beaded-sweaty skin above her brow, "it is your turn to return the favor." Lips smirked slowly against her skin, then he rolled off of her. Her lungs burning to take a free breath once more, released from the burden of his weight.
He looked honestly majestic, spread across the covers and fully naked. His skin glowed almost golden in the dying ember light, his red hair shining with crimson as it caught the dancing shadows. His head leaned back into the crook of his arm, waiting, expectant. And his toothy grin all but bid her to dare closer. The confidence of a lover who already had pleasured his mate.
All Galadriel could read was a challenge, still trembling in her thighs from her climax not a minute ago. She would beat him, inexperienced at seduction she might be, but her instincts never let her down. Her golden hair flicked over her shoulder, she crept closer to his body, his arm stretched out to welcome her. Palms pressed against his rising and falling chest, her mouth hovering just above his lips, as she felt the flurry of his smoky presence barely tickle her mind.
He knew better than to enter her mind deeper, already feeling the steely barrier that ring of power kept around anything too deep or intimate within her. Instead he shared the heat of desire, the rigid agony of his arousal, almost begging her to do something about it. Her thin brows furrowed in confusion. Gently, he ran the pad of his thumb over her swollen lips. "How best to reciprocate, you are wondering?" his chuckle a resonant roll. "Use these," he tapped his thumb twice on those pouting lips, "and use your imagination," he breathed through his smirking teeth. His head lolled back into the cradle of his arm, expectant.
Perhaps… she wondered. Even in her sensuality, she needed a plan. With a subtly salacious smile and a plan simmering to the surface, Galadriel straddled his hips, devouring his arrogant grin before slowly trailing caresses down the hardened rises and falls of his chest, his belly. Then, his massive length waited, and as she ghosted her touch down its velvety hardness, he breathed a sigh. Taking him in her hold, she tried to not compare it to the feeling of a weapon. Letting the dark irony of exchanging her brother's dagger for a ring on her finger and Sauron's cock in her hold.
She squeezed it, feeling it's pulse as she ran her fingers down it once. "Strange to have you so at my mercy for once, Halbrand," she murmured, flicking her gaze to meet his own, ever-observant as always. "But even sex is but a battle, moves and countermoves, strikes and parries," she lowered her face towards his cock, daring it closer to her pursed lips. "Advances, retreats, and negotiations," she added, circling him with her tongue. But just once.
He grunted, an almost imperceptible quiver to his mouth as she licked him. "I meant for you to use your lips for sucking, not speaking, Galadriel," he huffed a laugh. "I suppose I should have known you couldn't resist the opportunity for negotiation," he grunted as she rewarded his comment with another, longer lick. "In this state," he nodded to his protruding erection, "I'm not feeling most generous… yet."
"Oh, I think you will listen even better this way," she kept her eyes trained on her task at hand. "Or is the Lord of Mordor, the King of the Southlands, not up for pleasing his female with more than his cock?"
"Careful," he growled quietly, propping himself up in his elbows to get a better view. And to intervene lest she get too defiant. "I think you are well aware of what I can do to you, should I tire of your game."
Despite the sharp, blinding, and honestly painful bounce of light he received in reply, he pushed an image into her brain, one involving spread legs and shackles and merciless pounding. He retreated his vision, that ring's protection swirling in his magic's wake. But not before the image had its intended effect, Galadriel visibly shivering at the imaginary sensations that pulsed through her body as if they were real.
She was never one to shy away from a battle, instead returning her tongue and mouth to pleasuring him. With a final suck, she lifted her head again, lightly holding his cock once more. "If only I could see what lies beyond these four walls today," she threw him a teasing pout, "I would wager there are other places in your kingdom to enjoy each other's company in such a manner. A throne room perhaps? Or stables or courtyards?"
Reaching for her, he ran his fingers into her hair, cradling her cheek and chin in the searing heat of his palm. "I never suspected such a tempting minx beneath your commander's armor," he whispered, a colder edge lining his words. "I am pleased to be so surprised, but if you are just offering hollow words to manipulate, I must caution you," he gave her that tooth, leering grin she was growing accustomed to, "I will call in any bargains struck, my Queen."
She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, but she forced that tempting smile to twist her mouth even more. "I count on it, my lord," she barely breathed.
"Clearly no one warned you against striking deals with the Dark Lord," he laughed a dark chuckle as he laid his head back once more into the downy pillow.
She was careful to bury her thoughts into that softened, protected space of her mind. She had received many warnings, but so far she had ignored them all, finding herself in the bed of her enemy. And enjoying it.