#mairon x ar-pharazôn

[sauron-kraut]

Summary: Ar-Pharazôn comes to visit at night and finds Mairon in a vulnerable position.

Woke up in the mood for some more Mairon/Ar-Pharazôn, and in this one Mairon is once again not having a great time. After posting some pieces in which he has more agency I needed him miserable again, apparently.

Pairing: Mairon x Ar-Pharazôn

Words: 733

Warnings: non-consensual voyeurism, non-consensual touching

As always: If you like this little piece, comments on AO3 are appreciated! 🖤

Not beta read!

Find it here under the cut.

on granting things

On his bare feet, Ar-Pharazôn traverses the dark corridor. His steps are taking him to Zigûr’s quarters. Giddy anticipation holds his body in a tight embrace.  When he comes closer to his advisor’s chambers, Ar-Pharazôn finds the door to his private quarters ajar; he can see it from a distance; a narrow ray of flickering light shyly licking at the cold black tiles. Ar-Pharazôn slows his steps, approaches cautiously, quietly. A small strangled sound from Zigûr’s room. Ar-Pharazôn’s eyes widen and curiosity takes hold of him. Is the Maia in pain?

Ar-Pharazôn reaches the door. It has opened just wide enough for him to peek inside. Occasional carelessness. He allows Zigûr no locks. When he leans against the wall and casts up his eyes, Ar-Pharazôn has to hold back a gasp. On the soft bed the Maia lies, the bed that Ar-Pharazôn has granted him, a soft bed for soft skin and soft hair, and arches his back. A goblet with red wine sits on his nightstand. Zigûr lies sprawled across the sheets and pillows, his luscious red locks in slight disarray framing him like a broken halo. A pink hue has formed on his cheeks, his eyes are closed, his elegant brows knit and lips parted, just a bit, revealing slightly too sharp canines. The black lounging robe the Maia is wearing, adorned with colourful embroidery, has fallen half-open, exposing his pale-golden chest. One of his hands clutches a green blanket, the other moves in a steady rhythm between his legs. It makes his golden bracelets tinkle.

Hopeless hunger surges through Ar-Pharazôn. Jealousy.

A sigh tumbles from Zigûr’s lips like a promise. Ar-Pharazôn watches his chest rise and fall, transfixed with one nipple. Why does he breathe? Why does his red heart beat? He’s a creature; Ar-Pharazôn reminds himself of it, a beast cloaked in divinity, and yet, the Maia lies there, and does what all men do. Ar-Pharazôn cups his own hardness through his breeches. Zigûr has lifted an elegant hand to his mouth, lets some spit dribble onto his palm, before he resumes the now more frantic motions between his thighs. No, this is not right, his pleasure is Ar-Pharazôn’s to offer him. 

Ar-Pharazôn opens the door and steps inside.

The Maia on the bed jerks violently at the sudden noise, golden eyes fly open and betray confusion. He scrambles back against the headboard, fumbles with his robe.  Ar-Pharazôn sits beside him and smiles. “There is no need to cover yourself. I know what you look like,” he says. Zigûr sits unmoved, still only breathing heavily, leaning against the headboard and a pile of pillows, half upright, half-lying on his side, a certain feline grace in his posture even now. Ar-Pharazôn shifts closer and grasps both of the Maia’s wrists. To soothe him. He smells of arousal and saliva. A hint of sandalwood. Ar-Pharazôn studies his noble features. Zigûr’s lower lip is trembling. Beneath thick lashes, his eyes with the slit pupils and their fiery iris glisten with faint wetness. They swim with wrath. Fascinating. A wounded deer, a lion cornered.

Ar-Pharazôn lets go of his wrists, cups his cheek, rubs it, squeezes it, traces that lip, so soft beneath his thumb. Zigûr swallows, then speaks: “What brought you here at this late hour, king?” Wine on his breath. “Nothing but you,” Ar-Pharazôn says, then adds “You are so beautiful, Mairon, do you know?” He continues to stroke his cheek. A faint smile forms on Zigûr’s lips. “I am aware.” He takes Ar-Pharazôn’s hand in his, removes it from his cheek and gently places it in his lap, his own still clasped over his fingers. 

Ar-Pharazôn moves to lean in, moves behind Zigûr, thigh to thigh, hand firmly on his upper arm, then gliding down his side.  “Tell me, who do you think of when you pleasure yourself? What do you imagine when you do it?” Ar-Pharazôn whispers. He receives no answer. “Let me help you find your release. You were close, I can tell,” Ar-Pharazôn murmurs in his ear, and the heat spreading in his lower body and the Maia’s beauty, that damned beauty that is all angel and all whore, makes it impossible not to press himself up against him. 

The wretched thing shakes his golden head, a small, quiet gesture in Ar-Pharazôn’s arms. Helpless rage wells up in him.

Ar-Pharazôn wrenches the hem of Zigûr’s robe aside.

[sauron-kraut]

Have another little snippet from my latest Mairon/Ar-Pharazôn fic:

“I could keep you. Study your beauty like a butterfly in a jar.” Ar-Pharazôn is running his index finger over Mairon’s knee in feather-light touches now. “And maybe… maybe pluck the pretty wings,” he continues in a lower voice. “Creatures with colours too bright might be poisonous, after all. And yours shine bright as fire.” The Maia arches an eyebrow.

Happy Wednesday, Fellowship! 💚

Writers, now is your chance to tackle one of those pesky WIPs sitting on your devices! Share with us a little snippet from your latest WIP! If you don't have anything to share yet, go add a few sentences to your story!

Readers, do you want to participate? Challenge yourself to reading an unfinished fic, and leave a comment, or send the author a kind ask about the story!

[cilil]

rare pair bingo

AN: For @sauron-kraut, my beloved🖤

⸙ Prompt: Naked sub/clothed dom | Ar-Pharazôn x Mairon ⸙ Synopsis: Ar-Pharazôn is fascinated by his Maiarin prisoner. ⸙ Warnings: Captor/captive, nudity, non-consensual bondage & touching ⸙ Quadruple drabble | AO3

"Prisoners don't deserve clothes." 

Mairon lowered his head as if to accept the king's words, though in truth it was to hide his anger before his soft, pink lips could accidentally twist into an ugly, feral snarl. Conveniently, this also meant he no longer had to see Ar-Pharazôn's revolting face, sneering at him with disdain and lust in equal measure darkening his mien. 

Of course he had known where this was going the second he had been stripped of what had remained of his robes. The King of Númenórë wished to see his prize, the true glory of the Maia he presumed to have conquered, and limited as all Incarnates were, he thought that bare flesh was as intimate as it could get. 

He would not even survive being in the presence of his ëala, Mairon thought, the splendid and terrible naked flame that it was without its pretty skin. What a fool he was.

Ar-Pharazôn couldn't keep his hands to himself, but that too he had expected. Like a moth mindlessly fluttering around a deadly flame, he buried his right hand in the Maia's hair, enjoying the deceptive softness before grasping and tugging on it, forcing him to face him. The left then seized his chin, and his thumb brushed over his lips. 

"You wear a lovely face," Ar-Pharazôn said, though his arrogance banished any semblance of admiration and reverence from his tone. "Is it yours or are you wearing someone else's skin?" 

"You think any Incarnate could have ever possessed a body like mine?" Mairon retorted, his voice perfectly smooth and silky even as the mere thought of flirting made him nauseous. 

"You think highly of yourself for one being born into a servant race, Maia," Ar-Pharazôn hissed. His grip tightened. 

Any dread Mairon might have felt was eclipsed by blinding rage. How dare this mortal, a creature barely above the kelvar of Yavanna in his eyes, reduce the Maiar to mere servants; and not just any Maia, but him, the Admirable, Melkor's most powerful and favourite — 

"Come." His thoughts were interrupted by Ar-Pharazôn taking hold of the chains binding his hands; or so he thought at least. Mairon could easily break them if needed. 

"You shall decorate my chambers tonight," the king declared, "for I wish to look upon you a little longer." 

Mairon could only hope that ogling him was all he was going to do.

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @angbangbaby @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @blauerregen @edensrose @elanna-elrondiel @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-defense-attorney @saintstars @sauron-kraut @singleteapot @urwendii

[ao3feed-tolkien]

Healing in Paradise

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/MQRSveZ

by BlackLothWolf

You are newly arrived in the paradise-island of Numenor, pre third age. Sent as a healer from the Greenwood under the rule of Thranduil, you are tasked with being the general aid to Ar-Pharazôn, King of Numenor. But upon meeting the great captain Elendil, strange events begin to unfold, leading you to take part in a story which you’d never dreamed of.

Words: 2630, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Major Character Death

Categories: F/M

Characters: Elendil the Tall, Ar-Pharazôn, Isildur (Tolkien), Thranduil, Galadriel | Artanis, Sauron | Mairon, Reader

Relationships: Elendil The Tall / Reader, Elendil the Tall x Reader, Elendil the Tall & Reader

Additional Tags: Númenor, Sailing, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Mutual Pining, Tension, Sad and Happy, Illnesses, Healing, Height Differences, Age Difference, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Penis In Vagina Sex, Oral Sex, Kissing, Creampie, Tender Sex, Falling In Love, Grief/Mourning, Nervousness, Arguing, Deception, Simultaneous Orgasm, Holding Hands, Love Confessions, Penetrative Sex, Mental Anguish, References to Depression, Foreplay, Aftercare, Nightmares, Premonitions, Emotional Baggage, Blood, Medical Conditions, Awkward Flirting, Sexual Tension, Teasing, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/MQRSveZ

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

Can I get physical appearance headcanons for: Manwe, Varda, Melkor, Ilmare, Eonwe, Sauron, Melian, and Elwing?

Most certainly you can, anon. Most of these asks are Ainur, and of course the Ainur can change physical form like they’re changing clothes, but I do imagine that they keep a fixed appearance, if only for the sake of the Eldar, who would be terribly hard-pressed to meet the same Ainu wearing a different “body” day to day.

Manwë

Fair-skinned, not too pale but not too tanned

Deep blue eyes, white-blonde lashes

White-blonde hair that barely reaches his waist, often styled with braids, but not very elaborately. With Varda he wears his hair loose, and enjoys it when she combs her fingers through the strands.

Tall and fit, but not overly muscled - somewhat slim

Silver circlet with a blue zircon gemstone in the center

Primarily blue robes

Varda

Pale-skinned

Deep indigo eyes, black lashes

Thigh-length ebony hair, sometimes tied with small braids. Manwë likes to return the favor by untying and brushing it when they’re alone.

Tall (the crown of her comes up to around Manwë’s eyes), slender with long limbs

Silver circlet with a sapphire gemstone in the center

This woman has a stunning fashion sense - she wears outfits of all colors and types

Melkor

Healthily tan before his fall; became unnaturally pale after

Cold silver eyes shaped exactly like Manwë’s (if not for the color scheme they would look identical), black lashes

Unruly black hair extending to his mid-back; somewhat tamed before his fall and during his “repentance”, wild and matted after

Tall (Manwë is about three centimeters shorter), more heavily built than Manwë but not overly-muscled

Simple bronze circlet before his fall, no circlet during his “repentance”; an obsidian crown set with the Silmarils after 

Red robes before his fall and during his “repentance”, tattered black robes or black armor after

Ilmarë

Pale-skinned

Sapphire blue eyes, dark lashes

Black hair reaching the small of her back, neatly arranged in a low ponytail with one strand loose around her face

Average height (about three centimeters shorter than Varda), curvaceous figure (lol I feel a little strange writing that)

A set of pearl hair clips that she wears in her hair all the time

Usually wears deep or dark blues and purples

Eönwë

Creamy tan-skin

Pale bluish-lilac eyes, white lashes

White-blonde hair (blonder than Manwë’s) long enough to settle on his shoulders, often braided

Tall (about a centimeter shorter than Manwë); similarly built with Manwë but a little more muscled

No hair ornamentation (except his black leather hair tie) unless for special occasions, in which he wears a simple silver circlet inlaid with small diamonds

White or light blue robes/tunics when out of combat; silver armor with a cyan cloak when in combat

Sauron (this bitch killed me to do because of his ten thousand different personas)

Maia of Aulë

Fair-skinned, similar to Manwë

Blue-green eyes, golden lashes

Golden hair reaching mid-back; sometimes tied back for convenience’s sake in the forge

Tall (about Eönwë’s height), well-built (again, like Eönwë, perhaps a little slimmer)

No hair ornamentation

Simple red robes/tunics

Lieutenant of Morgoth

All same, mostly

Eyes become glowing orange-gold *drawn by @tolrone*

Hair becomes a paler golden

Elaborate gold circlet

Golden ring earrings

Elaborate golden/red/black robes

Annatar

Pale skin

Clear blue eyes, black lashes

Sleek, raven-black hair arranged in luxurious waves (to look “fair”)

Average height for a male of the Eldar; sculpturesque physique (again, to look “fair”)

Silver circlet inlaid with an ocean-blue gemstone 

Simple but elegant pale blue or white robes

Tar-Mairon

Almost identical to his “Maia of Aulë” persona

Tall for a human male

At first no ornamentation; a plain gold band when he’s in Ar-Pharazôn’s good graces

Simple white robes of a prisoner at first; elegant red priest robes after becoming Morgoth’s priest in Númenor

The Last Alliance/Lord of the Rings (body horror warning) - heavily inspired from this drawing by @esquitor

Dark grey, almost black, skin with orange-golden specks

Burning golden eyes with a cat’s-eye pupil, black eyelashes

Orange-golden “scar” marks running down his face

Wiry, waist-length black hair, inky black at the roots and lightening to russet towards the ends

Same height as and physique as “Maiar of Aulë” stage

A spiky, obsidian crown

Orange-gold ring earrings

Black/red robes

Sharp, black teeth

Random, sharp orange-black crystalline growths on his shoulders, chest, and face

Melian

Fair skin

Greenish-hazel eyes, black lashes

Knee-length raven-black with a very faint bluish tint

Average height for an elven female; slender

A plain circlet of white gold with a sapphire gemstone in the middle

Pale-colored (lilac, clear blue, pale pink, etc.), flowing outfits

Elwing

Tanned skin (born pale, but spent a lot of time outside)

Pale blue eyes the exact same shade as Lúthien’s; blonde eyelashes

Wavy, pale blonde hair extending to the small of her back

Tall for a human female; short for an elven female; slender but well-muscled due to her lifestyle in the Havens of Sirion

A golden circlet with diamonds as Princess of Doriath; no hair ornamentations afterward

Prefers shades of blue in her outfits; couldn’t be picky and wore any clothing she could obtain during her time in the Havens of Sirion

[fortuitousraven]

I made a post way back when, rambling about the Legendarium ships and dynamics I like, but I figured I should do an update and make individual posts for the ships.

First up is my faves of course: Sauron/Tar-Míriel (we need to coin a ship name for them :/) and Sauron/Celebrimbor (Silvergifting)

Out of the two, Sauron/Tar-Míriel wins for my overall favourite ship. My hyperfixation on Númenor, my hyperfixation on Sauron, and my love of the dramatic potential in villain/hero shipping, collided to make one weird OTP XD. Unfortunately, that ship is the metaphorical canoe and not Silvergifting’s cruiser. So I have to row myself for more OTP content, but hey, at least that means I’m relevant for something ;)

I’m discussing them together because I enjoy both dynamics for the same reasons – a villain x hero ship with buckets of dramatic irony and deep ideological conflict? Yes please :3 – and because while both ships are fun when you look at them individually, I find it particularly interesting that they are almost mirrors of each other.

Annatar in Eregion is there in disguise, but despite the suspicion most of the other Elves have, he befriends Celebrimbor and the Mírdain. Tar-Mairon in Númenor is there openly in his own identity, but despite most of Númenor accepting him, Tar-Míriel and the Faithful are the only ones suspicious of him.

Both ships involve pivotal points for Sauron’s character and these points also directly lead into each other. And of course shipping is the best way to underscore character development :p. Plus, this mirroring makes it fun to reference Sauron’s experience in his tragic friendship/romance with Celebrimbor informing how he acts with Tar-Míriel in those reversed circumstances ;)

Sauron’s time as Annatar is right after ill-fated redemption attempt, making this post-corruption Sauron at his least evil. According to Unfinished Tales, Sauron had already fallen back into evil before he went to Eregion, but the Tale of Years is a lot more vague, so there’s wiggle room with exactly how sincere or not ‘Annatar’ was being about his intentions. But whether it’s sooner or later, ultimately he can’t get over his pride enough to stick to his redemption and backslides.

Which triggers the War of the Elves and Sauron, both the end of Sauron’s relationship with Celebrimbor and the start of his conflict with Númenor.

Finally, Akallabêth features Sauron reaching his most powerful and most evil. Second Age Sauron with the One Ring is explicitly more powerful than late First Age Morgoth, this point is the zenith of his power before he is weakened by dying.

Sauron forging the One Ring and killing Celebrimbor is often taken as the point where he’s taken the last step into becoming irredeemable, but I prefer to interpret it as in Akallabêth where Sauron finally gives up completely on his good intentions.

Tar-Mairon in Númenor is (unofficially) ruling all of Middle-earth and dramatically defying lightning bolts of divine retribution. He can do pretty much anything he wants, and achieved his goal of establishing his power over Middle-earth. It just required him swallowing his pride and playing along with Númenor taking him prisoner.

That is the crucial point: Sauron was too prideful to surrender to Eönwë so that he could seek the redemption he wanted, but not too prideful to surrender to Ar-Pharazôn so that he could take the power he wanted. Sauron had good intentions of imposing his rule for his subjects own good that degenerated into his rule becoming it’s own end, and this is where that distinction was put to the test and came out as Sauron preferring his power over his good intentions.

Sauron never was the benevolent saviour of Middle-earth he had wanted to be, but I think at the end of Akallabêth was when Sauron finally stopped lying to himself about that. Which would also be why this is the point where he finally gives up on calling himself Tar-Mairon.

Correspondingly, Sauron finally being forced to admit to himself what he had become and how insincere his justifications are, was also the point could have genuinely understood why he was wrong instead of when he had just repented out of fear. But instead he willfully continues on that path. This is when he really becomes irredeemable; the shadow figure of pure malice we know in Lord of the Rings.

[loyalservants]

General Portrayal of Mairon

I)  Pre-Seduction Mairon is not a power-hungry villain but she is regarded as ❛ a fair lady but an unpleasant company ❜ by the other Maiar. She is often obsessed with perfection and gets irritated when bothered while she is in the ❛ zone ❜. She does put her guard down for certain Ainur– like Eönwë, Imarë, Aulë and Yavanna. She sees Curumo as nothing more than her ❛ colleague ❜. She is often toiling in the Forges, avoids social interaction and is almost never at festivities in Valinor.

II)  She is vain and envious. Mairon is perhaps the fairest among Aulë’s Maiar but her beauty does not even rival Ilmarë, Ariën and Melian and that does get on her nerves a lot especially when she’s compared to them.

III)  Her name Admirable is something people used to call her fondly. In the earlier days after Arda was made, she was actually considered nice by some ( but she slowly became distant ) and it was Aulë who had given her the name ‘Mairon’. She is easily agitated if anyone dares to call her Sauron right in front of her face.

IV)  She has good temper but if her buttons were pushed right, she would blow. Literally. She’s always one to wait until the perfect time to execute her plans. She’s clever, resourceful and calculating. According to Tolkien, ❛ Sauron is even considered to be wiser than Melkor but through the folly of his pride, he met his downfall. ❜ So Mairon learned from her master’s mistakes and tries to rebuild his empire under her control.

V)  Her form of torture is easily manipulation without manhandling. She had never laid a hand on anyone ever. She has never actually physically hurt anyone unless she was in battle but she makes their deaths swift. She hates getting blood on her rings. To get what she wants, she uses empathy, submission or fear. Fear became her number one during the Third Age. Empathy was used against the prisoners of Angband and against Celebrimbor and submission was used against Ar-Pharazôn.

VI)  Mairon often does not feel for certain things towards others. She does have a soft spot for the Werewolves, Gothmog and Thuringwethil. They were the closest to whom Mairon considers her friends after being seduced by Melkor. Melkor is whom she cares a lot and she thinks of him even after his fall and his banishment to the Void. She serves him loyally and she does everything for him.

VII)  After being seduced by Melkor, she’s become obsessed with power, finding it to be the key to perfect everything. She’s soon enough become controlling and she enjoys being in power. But also noting that she is less evil than Melkor and she has no intention in overthrowing him. She thinks her world revolves around him ( even when he had punished her for her mistakes upon what had happened with Lúthien ).

VII)  In Angband, everyone is fighting to be the top. To be Melkor’s lieutenant, Mairon is always on guard to maintain her position.

IX)  Mairon feels under-appreciated and unloved at times, believing her distant nature is justified by wanting utter perfection, and Melkor fed her more doubt as time passes until she decides (unknown she was influenced ) that Melkor would be the only one who would appreciate her crafts. She buries her vulnerable emotions beneath for she deems it unfitting for her but she is still less evil than Melkor.

X)  Melkor influenced her so much that she often thought of him and how he would react to such things. ( So don’t be surprised that I mentioned Melkor or she mentions Melkor in threads ).

[sauron-kraut]

Summary: Ar-Pharazôn wants to find out if Maiar have a prostate.

I have no excuse for this other than that it's been too long since I posted Mairon/Ar-Pharazôn PWP.

Set in their early days - the dynamic is not yet as bitter and resentful as later on in their relationship with one another.

Pairing: Ar Pharazôn x Mairon

Words: 1064

Warnings: explicit content, pwp

As always: If you like this little piece, comments on AO3 are appreciated! 🖤

Not beta read!

[sauron-kraut]

Summary: Ar-Pharazôn gets to know his new toy.

Creep Ar-Pharazôn makes a comeback.

Pairing: Mairon x Ar-Pharazôn

Words: 414

Warnings: dubcon cuddling, dubcon touching

As always: If you like this little piece, comments on AO3 are appreciated! 🖤

Not beta'd!

Doll

“Undress,” Ar-Pharazôn had demanded. And Mairon had obeyed. 

He is lying on his back, sprawled across the sheets, just as the king wishes.  At the foot of the bed, Ar-Pharazôn is standing dressed in regal robes and finery. Regarding Mairon’s nude form calmly.

“Put your arms above your head.” Mairon does.  Open your legs. Yes, like that. Mairon feels the man’s gaze rake over his body. He tries to meet his eyes. Turn over. The king steps closer and tugs at Mairon’s shoulder; grasps his upper arm to flip him around, on his stomach. Mairon lets him. 

He feels the mattress dip when a moment later Ar-Pharazôn comes to kneel on the bed. Mairon looks at the king over his shoulder. Ar-Pharazôn leans down, tucks Mairon’s hair behind his ear. He traces the lobe, the shell, the many golden earrings, caresses the slightly pointed tip, lingering, gently. A shiver creeps up Mairon’s spine. 

“You fascinate me. The rumours are true; your beauty is exceptional,” the king says and turns Mairon’s head to look at his other ear. Ar-Pharazôn takes Mairon’s left hand, traces his sharp nails, spreads his slender fingers and twists the rings adorning them. 

The king strokes Mairon’s cheekbone with his thumb, eyes empty . Then, his lips curl into a faint smile. “I am going to confide something to you, Maia. Do you desire to know the Golden King’s secrets?” Mairon does not answer, and Ar-Pharazôn does not care. “When I was a young boy, my mother gave me a doll to play with,” he continues. “I had begged her for months. A toy unbefitting of a future king, don’t you think?” He huffs a laugh. “I always wished she’d come to life,” he says absently. “Her hair had the same colour as yours.” Mairon’s throat feels tight.

Ar-Pharazôn rises from the bed and disrobes. He stands naked before Mairon, then bends down to kiss his forehead. “Lie on your side,” the king says softly as he turns Mairon again and rearranges his limbs. “I want to hold you.” Ar-Pharazôn lies down behind him, nestles up to him, moulding his entire body to Mairon’s. The king pushes one of his thighs between Mairon’s legs.

Mairon lies still, as still as he can, his breathing stops. Unneeded decorum. He will not move, he will not speak, he will not weep, he will not weep.

He hears, feels Ar-Pharazôn breathe against his nape as he nuzzles his scalp. The king is smelling Mairon’s hair.

[sauron-kraut]

May I ask for Mairazôn + 28 (kiss as a lie)?🌚

Thank you so much for the prompt and for making me write. 🖤 I don't know why exactly, but this somehow turned into shameless smut. Hope you enjoy.

Prompt list here

Find the smut under the cut. 🖤

28. ... as a lie

Warning: explicit, spit

Ar-Pharazôn’s hand rests on the small of Mairon’s back. The king is lounging on his luxurious bed with many pillows and holds the Maia on top of him close to his body, Mairon’s golden locks framing both of them like a fiery curtain.

The Maia is slowly, steadily rocking his hips, sliding their lengths against each other, hard and heavy between their bodies. A whimper makes its way past his lips. Mairon wants to recoil, but doesn’t. 

Ar-Pharazôn pulls Mairon down to him by his nape. “You like this, don’t you, Maia?” he hoarsely whispers into his ear in between low moans, and licks at the lobe adorned with an opulent earring made from gold and ruby. A shiver runs down Mairon’s neck.

“Of course I do, my king,”  he answers, and right here, right now, with hot swollen flesh between them and the king’s ruin ripe for harvest, it is only half a lie. 

Mairon props himself up on his elbows on the king’s chest and cups Ar-Pharazôn’s face in both hands. He lets a trail of spit dribble across his lower lip and into the king’s open mouth. Ar-Pharazôn laps up the golden shimmering liquid as eagerly as Mairon’s words, licking it from his lips.

“It is an honour to lie with one as great as you, oh king,” Mairon says, and kisses him, pushing his tongue deep inside the king’s mouth. A hint of nausea before he breaks free.

Ar-Pharazôn brings two fingers to his mouth and sucks, coating them in saliva. He trails them down Mairon’s spine and squeezes his backside before sliding them between his cheeks. Mairon thrusts forward, then arches into the touch in perverse pleasure. The space between their bodies grows slick.

[sauron-kraut]

Summary: Mairon has something to show to Ar-Pharazôn. Will it convince the king to trust in his abilities to grant eternal life?

But the fear of death grew ever darker upon them, and they delayed it by all means that they could; and they began to build great houses for their dead, while their wise men laboured unceasingly to discover if they might the secret of recalling life, or at the least of the prolonging of Men’s days. Yet they achieved only the art of preserving incorrupt the dead flesh of Men, and they filled all the land with silent tombs in which the thought of death was enshrined in the darkness. - Akallabêth

Pairing: Mairon x Ar-Pharazôn

Words: 763

Warnings: referenced character death, necromancy, general creepiness

As always: If you like this little piece, comments on AO3 are appreciated! 🖤

Not beta read!

Find it here under the cut.

Forever

“Come.” The Maia holds out his hand to Ar-Pharazôn. His silhouette slowly blends into the darkening sky, the trees and the grassy hillside he is standing on, as lines and figures blur in dusk progressing to blue twilight. Ar-Pharazôn takes it. Mairon's hand is slender and warm and smaller than his.  “Where are we going?” “I wish to show you something, my king.”

Through patches of dark forest and clearings heavy and ripe with a dying summer, Mairon leads him up, up, by the hand, and Ar-Pharazôn might think him a phantom, a spirit of old in the woods, if his palm weren’t so warm against his. Ar-Pharazôn’s heartbeat quickens as they continue to ascend the mountain slope.  Where is the Maia leading him? And what could exceed the wonders he has already shown him?

When they leave the trees behind, Ar-Pharazôn recognizes where they are headed. They follow the small gravel road before them, which will bend around the mountain’s flank, then broaden and give birth to the vast grounds where his ancestors lie in death looking like eternal slumber. His people long to defeat dying, yet only defeat rot. Mairon has let go of his hand, walks the narrow path ahead, calm, searching. Eventually, they arrive at the plateau, where last blue and red remnants of slumbering daylight are fading behind the mountain’s shadow. A sea of late-blooming white flowers engulfs the landscape like mould. It licks at the graves looming over the plain and washes up on the large boulders that scatter the grassland; gargantuan toys of the gods.

“Come,” the Maia says once more, grasps Ar-Pharazôn’s hand again, harder this time, and leads him around the corner of a high-rising narrow sepulchre. Mairon tugs at his wrist, slows their steps, then turns to him. “I told him to wait here.” Ar-Pharazôn tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. He feels nausea rise in his throat and does not know why, can only mouth a soundless whom. He has not been here in years, it might have been decades, even. A maze of pillars and rectangular nightmares in which he does not know his way, reminders of transience, pretty death threats hewn in stone. Then, on their left, they pass the monument that is his father’s grave. Ar-Pharazôn swallows. The aimless uneasiness in him has become unbearable.

Around another of the tomb’s sharp corners they walk, then stop at an opening between the buildings. 

A figure in the dark, sat on a log.

Reluctantly, Ar-Pharazôn steps closer.  Mairon cautiously walks towards the silhouette and sits beside it, one hand on his knee. When he produces a flame in his palm to illuminate what is seated next to him, Ar-Pharazôn’s world tumbles. 

Before him, old and white, with empty eyes and without words, crouches Gimilkhâd, his father, clad in the raiment they embalmed and laid him to rest in 28 years earlier. The dead man lets out a shaky bodiless sigh. Ar-Pharazôn has forgotten how to breathe, forgotten how to be. A strangled sound escapes him. 

“What have you done, Zigûr? What sorcery is this?” His skin feels too tight. “How… how is this possible?” Ar-Pharazôn’s fingers are trembling.

“Father…?”

He moves closer and waves a hand before his father’s face. He receives no reaction. Instead, the old man’s wheezing continues and his clouded eyes stare into nothingness. 

“Yes, your beloved father. He is here." Mairon inhales. "See, your people made this easy for me with their perfected art of… preservation.” The Maia speaks in a low, calm voice, then smiles in the flickering firelight. “We could very well work together.” He stands and slowly approaches Ar-Pharazôn. “You dream of forever, my king, and I offer you forever. Just take it, take my hand, and we will be greater together, you and me.” The Maia’s hand comes to rest on his arm. Ar-Pharazôn flinches. “My king. I have told you before, life is mine to take and mine to give. I’ve mastered its fickle ways. Know how death will become hollow and how life will be eternal. Know that, my king. I make it so.” Mairon tucks a strand of Ar-Pharazôn’s thick black hair behind his ear, his fingers lingering. 

Ar-Pharazôn turns around and runs, runs through the black of night, he wants to suffocate, runs, away from the flame that is becoming smaller and smaller in the distance, away from his name, away from the light, and runs until his lungs burn and he cannot run no more. Ar-Pharazôn retches.

He lies awake later that night, and dreams of forever.

[sauron-kraut]

Summary: Ar-Pharazôn watches Mairon sleep.

Warnings: non-consensual somnophilia (mild)

As always: If you like this piece, comments on AO3 are appreciated! 🖤

@cilil here we gooo, thanks for the fruitful conversation 🖤🖤

somnambulant

Oh, how he loves to watch him sleep.

The king had risen with the sun and had set out for the part of his fortress where the Maia’s chambers lie. Through grey morning light he makes his way, the day still waiting to be painted in full colours. 

When he arrives at his destination, he opens the door gingerly. Ar-Pharazôn must go unnoticed, and the Maia has good ears. Carefully, the king walks towards the large four-poster bed, lest the floorboards creak. He pulls the white curtains aside.

There he lies, on his side, in a light white gown in a sea of white bedding and white pillows, his copper locks spread about him. The Maia breathes steadily, perfectly curved lips slightly parted. He has laid one bare leg on top of the blanket and must have tucked it between his thighs sometime during the mild summer night. The king smiles to himself. It is apparent he exhausted him yesterday.

Ar-Pharazôn lets his gaze wander, over the sleeping Maia, the bed curtains dancing in the breeze wafting through the open window, to his nightstand with a goblet of wine, half empty, and a meal, half-eaten. A glass holding the element he loathes; water.

Mairon shifts slightly in his sleep, making a small sighing noise. Endearing. He looks sweet, unbearably sweet. Ar-Pharazôn feels a sudden urge like a warm shower, to sink against him, push up that night gown, sink into him, with him. Heat pools in his lower body.

Mairon’s left hand twitches. A hand many have died by. His eyes move rapidly under the lids. The Maia is dreaming. 

Ar-Pharazôn wants to rip his eyelids open and watch those unseeing golden orbs as they follow tales he himself could not dare envision. 

Mairon had told the king he does not require sleep, but sleep he can, and sleep he does, and dream he does. 

What does an eternal servant dream of?

Ar-Pharazôn leans against a bed post and smiles another serene smile.

[sauron-kraut]

Summary: Mairon and The Golden King of Númenor play games. The Maiarin guest sparks Ar-Pharazôn's curiosity.

I enjoyed writing a somewhat different dynamic for these two this time. Set during the seduction phase, shortly after Mairon's arrival on Númenor, when things haven't turned as sour and bleak yet as in my other fics for them. Just some back and forth and them being them.

Not beta'd!

Warnings: None; well, Ar-Pharazôn being Ar-Pharazôn and Mairon being Mairon

[sauron-kraut]

Mairon telling Ar-Pharazôn

"But great kings do not brook denials, and take what is their due."

in the Akallabêth really hits different when you write/ship them the way I do. 😬

[sauron-kraut]

Summary: Ar-Pharazôn pays Mairon a sweet visit.

Gracing you with yet another quick ficlet (don't worry, longer one shots are in the making) because I found myself in a sudden mood for some PWP for these two (ah, one of my favourite rarepairs). @lvsifer contributed the mirror idea.

Tagged as Non-Con just to be sure.

This is not a happy one (is it ever?). Not beta'd!

[sauron-kraut]

Summary: Ar-Pharazôn stumbles upon a new type of ritual being performed in the Temple of Melkor.

Not beta'd since it's a rather quick thing I whipped out during a train ride and breakfast and which I originally planned to be even shorter.

Thanks to @cilil for confirming there's def some sex cult rituals happening in the Temple of Melkor lol