#last cappy hupping

[arofili]

4. I won’t hurt you.

Fingon/Maedhros/Amlach (summer)

the last prompt!! two years later...i am Done!! thanks everyone who sent a prompt in <3

this one is under the cut for nsfw :)

~

“I won’t hurt you,” Fingon murmured, his hand stroking down Maedhros’ sweating back. “Aiya, meldo, I am here for you.”

Maedhros groaned, long and low. “Finno,” he slurred. “Please...”

Fingon pressed a kiss to his neck, his hand settling firmly on his shoulder. The fingers of his other hand worked steadily within his lover, stretching and slicking his hole, yet purposefully avoiding his sweet spot. Still Maedhros moaned and shivered, pressing back, fucking himself on Fingon’s fingers.

“Beautiful,” Fingon rumbled. “Just gorgeous. Do you not think so, Amlach?”

Across the room, Maedhros’ mortal vassal sat riveted, leaning forward on his bench, his eyes dark and his breeches tented.

“Aye, milord,” he rasped. “He is beautiful.”

Maedhros lifted his head, smirking. Fingon tutted, and pressed ever so briefly against his prostate until he whined.

“Lose yourself, meldo,” he murmured. “Relax... Let us take care of you.”

Slowly, he withdrew his fingers, beckoning Amlach forward. With only a moment’s hesitation, Amlach stood, bowing his head to his liege’s lover.

“Closer,” Fingon urged. “Look. See how well he opens for me. See how he preens, for both of us!”

Amlach was looking. “I am privileged to see such beauty,” he rumbled. “My lord has honored me to serve him, and blessed me to tend to his needs before, but never—never like this.”

“No,” Fingon agreed. He moved his free hand to untie the laces of his breeches, freeing his own erection, which he stroked with an oily palm. Amlach’s breath hitched, his eyes now riveted on Fingon.

He smirked. “Would you like to serve me also, Amlach?”

Amlach swallowed. “Aye, milord,” he said. “Very much so.”

Beneath them, Maedhros moaned softly. Fingon had stopped fingering him, though his digits remained within him.

“Patience, meldo,” he tutted. “You will have your fill soon.”

Then he turned to Amlach, staring at him with as much sternness as he could in such a charged moment. “You understand it is your loyalty only that keeps you here, Adan. My Russo, your lord, is no whore for your pleasure.”

Only yours, Maedhros whispered in Fingon’s mind, his voice light and teasing, for all tension lay beneath it.

“I understand,” Amlach agreed, nodding vigorously. “I...I know some of what he has endured. What he has conquered. What he means to you.”

“Only some,” Fingon warned. “But: good.” He leaned forward, until he was a breath away from Amlach’s face. “You know, then, what I shall do to you if you betray our trust.”

Fear flickered across the Man’s face. “I do,” he rasped.

Without warning, Fingon turned back, removed his fingers from Maedhros’ hole, and sheathed his cock within him in one fluid thrust. Maedhros shouted in ecstasy, and Fingon groaned, pleasure bursting hot behind his eyes as he buried himself in his most beloved.

“Aiya, Findekáno!” Maedhros moaned, arching back to meet Fingon’s thrust.

Fingon settled himself to the hilt, his eyes fixed on Amlach, whose mouth had fallen open in awe. “See your mighty lord, brought low beneath me,” he growled, and punctuated his declaration with a sharp thrust that made Maedhros whine. “See his pleasure! Know it is mine!”

“Yours,” Maedhros gasped.

“Yours,” Amlach echoed, pressing the palm of his hand against his groin.

Fingon grinned, then set himself to fucking his husband. His thrusts were deep, punishing, brutal, just the way Maedhros liked them. He lost himself in Maedhros, relishing the hot, wet slide of him, the way he opened so easily to accept Fingon. He reached to tug on Maedhros’ shaft, dripping nómilt, and rubbed his mess into his own belly, before reaching back to his hole.

“Watch,” Fingon ordered, and felt Amlach’s eyes hot upon him as he slid another finger in alongside his cock.

Maedhros howled. “Fin—!” he wept.

“Do not come until I let you,” Fingon ordered, and felt the waves of pleasure-pain radiating from his husband, fëa and hröa. He worked his finger in deeper, sparks of that same stinging ecstasy rippling along his shaft as the pressure increased. Then he pushed in another digit, and another—until Maedhros’ hole was stretched obscenely wide, red and raw and leaving him a begging, blubbering mess.

“Do you want more, meldanya?” Fingon crooned, sweating as he stroked Maedhros’ inner walls and his own cock along with them. “My whole hand, perhaps? Or...”

“More, please, more,” Maedhros pleaded. He threw his head back, beads of sweat streaking down his face as he begged. “Aiya, like we planned, Finno...!”

Satisfaction hot in his belly, Fingon turned back to Amlach. He had taken his cock out entirely now, and was furiously stroking himself, his free hand tugging at his own nipples.

“Come now, Amlach,” Fingon crooned. “Do you not want him? Do you not wish to bury yourself in his heat?”

Amlach let out a choked sound, clutching himself at the base. “Milord!” he gasped. “You would have me...?”

“Maedhros trusts you,” Fingon said, his voice low. “There are very few he trusts like this. Myself, you, and perhaps one other.” Though they had never permitted Finrod in this act before. Catching the edge of his thought, Maedhros clenched around him, and Fingon grunted. Perhaps they should, then, if this went well...

“You would—in your own place?” Amlach asked, eyes wide.

Fingon snorted. “Not quite,” he said, withdrawing his fingers partway. “See how he gapes for you? Do you think you could fit?”

Amlach turned an amusing shade of purple. “I—with you?”

“Indeed.” Fingon smirked. “Well? Would you join us, Adan?”

“I...” He stared, dazed, at the wet, pink flesh offered to him. “I am—yes, yes, my lord. I am honored.”

“Good!” Fingon exclaimed. He pulled out to shed his breeches and yank off his shirt until he was properly nude, before returning to stuff his lover full of his fingers. Maitimo—move for me, will you?

Yes, my lord, Maedhros replied, rolling over onto his back with Fingon’s aid, a light teasing spark passing through their bond. I am honored.

Fingon pressed himself close to his husband, chest-to-chest, and kissed him, hot and wet and passionate, pushing his cock back into him at the same time.

“Come here,” he ordered, half out of Maedhros’ mouth. “Behind me—upon me. Come, Amlach, and serve your lord.”

Amlach was fully naked now, his hairy chest heaving with lust. He scrambled onto the bed, and Fingon felt his full, thick cock against his back and shivered.

Ingoldo was right about Men, he thought to Maedhros. Are you sure you are stretched enough?

I want to feel it, Maedhros rasped back to him. Aiya, Finno, please!

Fingon wriggled his hips, pushing deeper into his husband. Amlach’s cock pressed up against his own, easing into Maedhros’ hole, the tip catching on his rim; Maedhros’ cock leaked ever more nómilt, pressed between their stomachs, lubricating their skin.

“Ahh, ngh!” Amlach choked out. “My lord—my lords—!”

Fingon felt his furry chest against his back, felt his Mannish strength as he thrust inside, felt the full, fat length of him alongside his own cock. He shouted, and Maedhros screamed: and then they were in, both of them, stretching Maedhros as he had never been stretched before.

(A memory—darkness, pain—something too big, too hot, no nonono please no—)

But Fingon was there, Fingon was with him; Fingon kissed him, and when he moved, Amlach moved with him. That dark memory was burned away, replaced by the light of love, of devotion; and Maedhros’ mind cleared, and all was light.

Finno, may I—can I—

“Yes,” Fingon moaned, and kissed Maedhros as he came, tightening around him and Amlach both.

They did not last long after that, Amlach whining and spilling into Maedhros soon after. Fingon gave a few quick, brutal thrusts after that, pulling more out of Amlach, fucking the Man’s seed deeper into his husband—and that thought dragged him, too, over the edge, and he released, Maedhros’ spend hot against his stomach and Amlach’s hairy back scratching maddeningly at his back.

Amlach pulled out first, breathing heavily; Fingon stayed with his husband a little longer, until it was too uncomfortable to remain. Maedhros panted, lying on his back, sticky with sweat and seed, tension draining out of him.

“Th-thank you,” he rasped, when he could speak. “Finno...Amlach...”

“My lord,” Amlach croaked. “My prince...”

“My vassals,” Fingon replied, teasing and serious all at once. “For your service, I thank you.” His voice softened. “And for your love, I give mine in return.”