Chapter Text
His Elf scowled as a response. Scowled. I adore her, Sauron thought. I should blame this on my human body, I think. Are all Men this weak to scowling Elves? Belatedly, he wondered whether he was able to shield his thoughts from Galadriel, who was now circling him like some hungry wolf. A distracting one.
“How did you do it?” He continued; curiosity peaked.
“I suggested they make three instead of two.” Galadriel sing-songed, like she hadn’t just revealed an impressively cunning bit of information.
“Clever. And the alloy?” Halbrand asked and saw the face of the Elf harden.
“My dagger.” She gritted out.
Ah, perhaps not the time to gloat about her not stabbing me with it. “I’m sorry.” His hands reached out to hold her shoulders gently. “It was a good choice.” He whispered in her ear. She acknowledged it with the slightest of nods.
Galadriel decided that it was time to push the ring conversation aside for the moment. She felt not unlike a fisherman, baiting her surprisingly docile Dark Lord with crumbs of information. The Elf was not naïve – she knew that they were both dancing around what she’d done. What they’d done. All of it. Her rejection of Sauron’s offer, but at once an implicit acceptance of something else. The intimacy they’d shared. His naked desperation despite his anger at the rejection. And my apparent weakness for his praise.
“So. How does this work?” The Elf asked, looking around nonchalantly and tentatively placing her hands on the sturdy cluttered table of the smithy that did not belong in her room.
“I have to admit I am not entirely sure.” The Man responded slowly, mirroring her action across the table. Was she not paying attention, or did more clutter and tools appeared?
“Oh?” She leveled him with a stare. “I’ve seen how easily you leaf through my memories like they are scrolls to be read.”
“Yes, well. This isn’t that.” Halbrand looked intrigued. “Last time, I was able to enter your mind through touch. And at that time, we were only in your memories, well… my version of them, not out here too. A perfect illusion, not a muddled reality.”
“Thanks for the reminder.” She does not sound thankful for the reminder, Halbrand thought. The elf continued stalking him around the table.
Sauron continued, feeling somewhat like Galadriel’s prey. “Another thing I can do with ease is call to you while you’re asleep.”
The Elf looked at him curiously. “And why is that?” She asked, hopping to sit on the table in front of him, her eyes searching his, restless.
“When you dream, your mind is in a …state… that is easier for me to access.” He reached to gently tangle his hands in her hair then. She leaned into his touch like a large cat. My kitty cat.
“Go on.” She hooked her legs around his thighs to draw him in. Tease.
“You’re making it hard.” Halbrand chided, stroking her thighs, followed by grabbing them roughly to pull her flush against him to prove his point, getting a gasp out of the elf. “I cannot say that I’ve ever been like this before. Three places at once. I’m in my room, you in yours, and yet here. We are days apart, awake, and not communicating through a palantir as far as I am aware. Despite your dreadful opinion of my overreaching powers, I shouldn’t be able to hear or see you and you shouldn’t hear or see me like this. This shouldn’t be possible.” Galadriel was making it quite difficult to concentrate. “I shouldn’t feel you like this either.”
They both fell quiet as a sudden realization hit them that the space was created by them, for them, with rules unknown. The space that wasn’t quite real, and yet was more than real at once. They felt frozen in time, eyes closed, foreheads touching, breath intermingling. Galadriel’s mind wandered to the night they’d shared, the feeling of being completely possessed by Halbrand … Sauron, the way he felt inside her, the taste of him, your marks on me, and mine on … And now we are connected. Sauron meanwhile tried to steady his racing thoughts. He’d meant to leave, away, rip the bandage off. And yet he’d come back that night for what? Self-flagellation? He’d managed to convince himself that the Elf’s ire would be amusing, something to gloat at, and yet. And then again like a fool, he’d managed to convince himself he'd come today to tease, and yet. He was a Maia, a creature with no need, no, whole, perfectly alone, his purpose pure and clear, and yet.
“I always thought this was a good sturdy table.” Galadriel broke the silence first. “It’s just as I remember.” She leaned on her elbows now, looking up at Halbrand with an expectant challenge. Come here. He didn’t have to be told twice.
“Is this what you had in mind when you stomped into my workspace in Numenor?” He asked innocently, hands roaming over her body now, caging her in. He looked her face only to see the red flush of the Elf’s cheeks. “I know I did.” He whispered, leaning down, his large palms over her breasts, his mouth teasing her peaked nipple through the fabric of her dress. Not enough. Around them, the clutter on the table disappeared as if on its own accord. The fire in the forge shone brighter.
“Hmmm, so you thought this up. No wonder there is no elegance.” Galadriel purred between her soft whimpers at the attention.
“Oh, I’m sorry that in my haste to answer the needy call of my Queen, I didn’t build her a palace to match.” Sauron pulled her up to sit up, and on a whim commanded. “Strip.”
“Don’t call me that.” The Elf retorted while taking off her dress over her head efficiently. “I don’t need a palace.”
The man took a moment to admire the sight – his Elf’s creamy flushed skin, completely bare save for a simple keepsake, a small pouch on a leather cord, between her breasts. He pulled Galadriel closer to him by the cord. You kept it.
“Let’s make it a stable.” He loved the indignant look on her face. “I could have you there. I’d have to hold your mouth shut I think like so. Stables aren’t very private.” The man pushed Galadriel flat against the cold hard table and put his hand over her mouth while working over her nipples with his tongue, leaving them swollen and hard under his ministrations.
She bit his hand lightly, more tongue than teeth. “I should fashion this place into a prison.”
At once the room shifted, the walls grew darker.
“Mm, and which of us in chains?” Halbrand’s face was between Galadriel’s thighs now, his mouth trailing gentle, too gentle kisses. “Hands above your head.” You like it when I’m firm. He heard, more than saw, heavy metal handcuffs snap closed around the elf’s delicate wrists above her head. Not bad. Do you like a little torture? With his tongue, he swiped a broad stripe over her folds. She was wet and frustrated, hips bucking to meet him. He held her down. She huffed. Halbrand went to work, alternating soft, too soft, swipes of his tongue over her clit with kisses, the sensation undoubtedly frustrating and not enough. Your own husband never did this for you, he thought possessively. He could drown in her soft whimpers, her silky wetness, her heat.
“Please.” The elf pleaded softly.
“Please what?” He couldn’t get enough of teasing her. Serves you right for how you have me wrapped around your finger, his mind supplied. He was sucking on her clit in earnest now, pressing a finger inside her.
Galadriel willed the chains around her wrists to disappear. Enough playing. Their room looked new once more, still dark, but softer, richly decorated, decidedly not a prison. She beckoned Halbrand to her with a firm hand on his chin. “Please stop teasing me and fuck me like you mean it.”
“I like it when you are polite.” Halbrand smiled. Let’s see how loud I can make you scream my name.