"Let go." Melkor's words are a stuttered, desperately heated groan against his throat, hands gripping at his shoulder and hip with vice-like claws. The scent of blood in the air comes from more than just the torn flesh between Mairon's teeth. "Let go, Mairon."
He does as commanded, spine curling in on itself until the pistoning of Melkor's hips halt and heat blooms within and without, wet and slick in the space between them. It sounds like an earthquake, volcanic and terrible and bone-tremoring (if he had bones; and if he did they would be liquid by now, liquid and malleable and pliable), and his own indescribably muffled cry echoes in more than just his head.
Melkor coaxes Mairon's aching jaw from his neck with reluctant groan, stealing iron-tanged kisses from painted lips. His lieutenant's hands slide down to grip the arms of the black throne for stability.
"..I am not kneeling on this thing again," Mairon says pointedly. Melkor laughs deep in his chest, and tightens the grip of his arms for a whispery moan.
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edgeofglory2013-10-17 10:12 pm
melkor, mairon. letting go. nsfw.
He does as commanded, spine curling in on itself until the pistoning of Melkor's hips halt and heat blooms within and without, wet and slick in the space between them. It sounds like an earthquake, volcanic and terrible and bone-tremoring (if he had bones; and if he did they would be liquid by now, liquid and malleable and pliable), and his own indescribably muffled cry echoes in more than just his head.
Melkor coaxes Mairon's aching jaw from his neck with reluctant groan, stealing iron-tanged kisses from painted lips. His lieutenant's hands slide down to grip the arms of the black throne for stability.
"..I am not kneeling on this thing again," Mairon says pointedly. Melkor laughs deep in his chest, and tightens the grip of his arms for a whispery moan.