The Breath control game
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
999
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
999
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
The Breath control game
Title: The Breath control game
Author: Az (azmodan76@yahoo.co.uk)
Pairing: Fëanor/Finrod (Silmarillon-based)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Angst, Kink, and incest I think
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, don’t sue me.
Author’s note:
Alright, this has been fun, fun, fun—I had to do some reading up on this specific kink I chose, and if any of you should be curious you can read more here: http://www.sexuality.org/l/fetish/aspydang.html
Thanks to EIC and LIC for giving me this opportunity to write some twisted stuff. And thanks to my friend Peter for helping me choose fetish, and pairing :D –It is still impossible for me to dig up a beta; live with it. And one million hugs to my Beta Miriel.
Last but not least—do not try this at home, elflings!
-Az (http://www.nad-no-ennas.net/ohno.htm)
*************************************************************
The breath control game.
”I can’t,” the younger elf said, shocked; “I am sorry, but I just can’t.”
“Oh,” Fëanor sighed, “I just thought we agreed on being honest.”
The Noldo blushed and fingered the embroidery on his tunic’s sleeve. The blonde elf’s large blue eyes looked like they would pop out of their sockets. “I know Fëanor, But I just did not expect something like this.”
Fëanor sighed once more. “Could you at least not look so shocked, Finrod—it is not like this was easy to tell you in the first place.”
Finrod blinked and smiled a strained smile. “I know, my sweet—but you have to respect that I have a hard time understanding what it is you want.”
“How can that be hard?—I think I told you quite clear, and from the expression on your face, you understood my words just fine,” the older elf sneered.
Finrod looked down at the floor “I did, you are right – I just n-never…” His voice trailed off and left the room in an awkward silence.
After some painful silent moments, Fëanor finally opened his mouth. “My heart, my sweet. Would you at least *try* ?”
The younger elf shook his head in dismay… “Perhaps; I will have to think. Fëanor, can you grant me that?”
The dark-haired elf nodded slowly. “If there is no other way—then, take your time,” he said, looking up on his younger fair-haired lover, “as long as you will return.”
Finrod took hold of the other elf’s hand and gently caressed it, to soothe his upset lover. “I promise, my light. I promise,” he whispered, and smiled upon seeing the frown on the older elf disappear some.
Finrod let go of Fëanor’s hand and stood up. He looked out of the window, and watched the sea. “I think we are going to have a storm soon. The waves are big and powerful—even the seagulls seek shelter,” the blond said in a dreamy voice.
“Then let us hope all ships are at bay,” Fëanor answered and looked away. Finrod tore his gaze from the foaming sea, back to his lover on the bed.
“I will be back later tonight, and then I will have an answer for you, my spirit,” he said softly, and left his uncle and lover by placing his hand over his heart lowering his head. And Fëanor returned his gesture.
“Until later, my heart,” he whispered, and bit his lip.
Finrod left the room, and the sound of the door slamming behind him echoed in his ears for minutes to come. He slumped down against the wall in the corridor and wept. He could only hope that no elf would venture this way. And why should they, when this was a wing reserved for family…
If only he had someone he could turn to, someone to calm his worries. For he bedded his own uncle—this was unheard of. So they kept it a secret, well aware of the punishment that would follow.
Finrod felt the walls caving in on him. He had to get out, had to inhale the fresh air, even if this meant he had to run past others on his way, and face the worried looks from them.
Luckily he did not meet anyone other than servants on his way out, and once reaching the outside he took a deep breath of the chilly air. He walked through the courtyard and continued to the rocky beach, then sat down, looking at the roaring sea.
Could he do this?—How could Fëanor even ask this from him? He shook his head and frowned. The young elf felt his frame shake like a leaf in the wind, from the aggressive winds blowing here.
He should go inside, it would be common sense. But he could not face his uncle right now. He sighed and looked at the horizon where he saw lightening hit the water…they looked like little yellow tendrils from the sky, and not in the least dangerous. At least not as dangerous as the games Fëanor asked of him… Why could the elder elf not understand that it frightened him?! That he wanted to kiss him, taste him, feel him, not harm him. And further more, not endanger him.
Fëanor himself had tried to comfort him, telling him that he had it all under control.
/Liar./
This was a dangerous matter. A very fine line to walk, and what if it went wrong? What if...
Finrod’s chain of thoughts were disrupted as he felt a hand on his shoulder. “You should come with me inside, penneth,” he heard Fëanor’s voice say
“No, not yet,” he replied and shrugged off Fëanor’s hand
“Please my sweet, it is dangerous to stay out here,” the elder elf said and grabbed Finrod’s arm and hoisted him to his feet. Finrod kept his gaze locked on the ground, and kept silent, as he knew that arguing with his uncle was a futile mission.
So he followed Fëanor inside.
Once in his rooms, Fëanor locked the door and turned towards Finrod. “Why, my beloved? Why do you take this simple request so heavy on your heart?” The elder elf spoke softly, and smiled sadly.
Finrod sat down on his bed and hid his face in his hands. “I cannot do this—I love you, believe me—but I cannot grant you this,” he said and shook his head slowly in utter despair.
Fëanor sighed and moved over to the younger elf and sat down, wrapping an arm protectively around him. “I promise you no harm will come from it. Please, penneth—think it over”
Suddenly anger took over Finrod, and he jerked up and looked defiantly at his uncle. “I have a name, Fëanor—I am *not* your little one, I am Finrod!—and I won’t play your little perverted and twisted game.”
Fëanor frowned, torn between getting angry and being utterly surprised. “Hush now, child, you are not yourself,” he whispered, and caressed Finrod’s cheek.
“D-don’t…” Finrod started, hating himself for stuttering; would he really ever be able to deny his lover something? Was he just playing mind games with himself?
The elder elf smiled at the young one’s hesitation, and let his hand run down to the nape of Finrod’s neck before leaning in and kissing his lover gently. “Finrod,” he whispered, “I love you.”
Finrod could have kicked his lover, pounded him till he was senseless, but he just let out a ragged breath, leaning into the touch of Fëanor. He heard a click and opened his eyes, fully alert, but when he saw Fëanor’s belt coming off, he relaxed.
“Trust me,” Fëanor said softly and closed the belt again, without locking it, so it resembled a noose. Then he smiled reassuringly and kissed Finrod before pulling the belt over his head, letting it rest loosely around his throat. “Come,” he whispered to the scared elf, and guided his lover down between his legs.
Finrod sat on his knees, looking up at the elder elf towering over him, and swallowed hard before gently beginning to unlace Fëanor’s leggings. He looked up again, seeing Fëanor lean backwards, resting both his hands on the madras, before he returned his attention to his lover’s erect member.
He kissed the tip, and nibbled on it—he usually found much reward in pleasurhis his lover like this, but today it would be different; today it repulsed him. He looked up once more to see Fëanor laying flat on his back on the bed with closed eyes, apparently enjoying his ministrations. So he decided to continue. Letting his tongue swirl over the hot flesh, he took the elder elf’s entire length in his mouth and gently pushed a finger inside the tight heat of his lover, searching for the little spot in there that would make the other elf writher in lust.
He heard a strained moan, and felt Fëanor thrust against him. When a hand came down and grabbed his hair, he was prepared. Then Fëanor began to thrust rapidly into his mouth, and he added a second and third finger inside his lover. But just as he tasted the pre-ejaculate, the hand slumped down, letting go of his hair, and all he heard was fast little sharp breaths.
/He’s choking!/
But then he remembered all too clear that this was what his lover wanted—he *wanted* it this way; it gave him pleasure, he said—so Finrod tried to ignore the shallow breaths and continue his business, bringing his lover to the edge. And when he climaxed, Finrod almost choked, as he had no warning. There had been none of the sweet moans, none of the reassuring words.
Nothing.
Nothing but the ragged shallow breathing, and now he heard Fëanor gasp, and go silent. Finrod let his lovers slumping member slide out of his mouth, and wiped his tears away, tears that had come from straining himself not to gag. He then slowly rose to his feet, looking down at his lover, when his heart skipped a beat.
/Fëanor!/
The dark-haired elf lay still, with his eyes turned up so only the white showed. His lips were pale, and his form seemed lifeless. “Aii, what have I done?!” the young elf whispered and quickly crawled up on the bed. Frantically he tried to remove the belt from his lovers throat. “Sweet Elbereth, no, no, no—I should never have agreed…”
The belt was difficult to get off, and as Finrod’s panic escalated, his fingers wouldn’t comply.
“Please, please breathe my love,” he heard his own pained voice whisper, and he tasted the saltiness of his own tears as they silently ran over his lips. “Please, breathe…”
He finally managed to take off the belt, and when he heard Fëanor breathe shallow but steadily, Finrod began to sob. The other elf was out cold, but alive. “This was too close, too close,” he whispered.
Finrod rested his head on Fëanor’s chest, listening to the steady breathing. “Please don’t ever make me do this again,” he begged—well knowing that there would be a next time.
Finrod sat up and gently removed the belt entirely before getting off the bed. He walked out to the balcony and stood there feeling the heavy rain soaking him before he threw the belt, as far as he could, out into the sea.
Hating this game, wishing he could say stop—say no.
- the end-
Author: Az (azmodan76@yahoo.co.uk)
Pairing: Fëanor/Finrod (Silmarillon-based)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Angst, Kink, and incest I think
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, don’t sue me.
Author’s note:
Alright, this has been fun, fun, fun—I had to do some reading up on this specific kink I chose, and if any of you should be curious you can read more here: http://www.sexuality.org/l/fetish/aspydang.html
Thanks to EIC and LIC for giving me this opportunity to write some twisted stuff. And thanks to my friend Peter for helping me choose fetish, and pairing :D –It is still impossible for me to dig up a beta; live with it. And one million hugs to my Beta Miriel.
Last but not least—do not try this at home, elflings!
-Az (http://www.nad-no-ennas.net/ohno.htm)
*************************************************************
The breath control game.
”I can’t,” the younger elf said, shocked; “I am sorry, but I just can’t.”
“Oh,” Fëanor sighed, “I just thought we agreed on being honest.”
The Noldo blushed and fingered the embroidery on his tunic’s sleeve. The blonde elf’s large blue eyes looked like they would pop out of their sockets. “I know Fëanor, But I just did not expect something like this.”
Fëanor sighed once more. “Could you at least not look so shocked, Finrod—it is not like this was easy to tell you in the first place.”
Finrod blinked and smiled a strained smile. “I know, my sweet—but you have to respect that I have a hard time understanding what it is you want.”
“How can that be hard?—I think I told you quite clear, and from the expression on your face, you understood my words just fine,” the older elf sneered.
Finrod looked down at the floor “I did, you are right – I just n-never…” His voice trailed off and left the room in an awkward silence.
After some painful silent moments, Fëanor finally opened his mouth. “My heart, my sweet. Would you at least *try* ?”
The younger elf shook his head in dismay… “Perhaps; I will have to think. Fëanor, can you grant me that?”
The dark-haired elf nodded slowly. “If there is no other way—then, take your time,” he said, looking up on his younger fair-haired lover, “as long as you will return.”
Finrod took hold of the other elf’s hand and gently caressed it, to soothe his upset lover. “I promise, my light. I promise,” he whispered, and smiled upon seeing the frown on the older elf disappear some.
Finrod let go of Fëanor’s hand and stood up. He looked out of the window, and watched the sea. “I think we are going to have a storm soon. The waves are big and powerful—even the seagulls seek shelter,” the blond said in a dreamy voice.
“Then let us hope all ships are at bay,” Fëanor answered and looked away. Finrod tore his gaze from the foaming sea, back to his lover on the bed.
“I will be back later tonight, and then I will have an answer for you, my spirit,” he said softly, and left his uncle and lover by placing his hand over his heart lowering his head. And Fëanor returned his gesture.
“Until later, my heart,” he whispered, and bit his lip.
Finrod left the room, and the sound of the door slamming behind him echoed in his ears for minutes to come. He slumped down against the wall in the corridor and wept. He could only hope that no elf would venture this way. And why should they, when this was a wing reserved for family…
If only he had someone he could turn to, someone to calm his worries. For he bedded his own uncle—this was unheard of. So they kept it a secret, well aware of the punishment that would follow.
Finrod felt the walls caving in on him. He had to get out, had to inhale the fresh air, even if this meant he had to run past others on his way, and face the worried looks from them.
Luckily he did not meet anyone other than servants on his way out, and once reaching the outside he took a deep breath of the chilly air. He walked through the courtyard and continued to the rocky beach, then sat down, looking at the roaring sea.
Could he do this?—How could Fëanor even ask this from him? He shook his head and frowned. The young elf felt his frame shake like a leaf in the wind, from the aggressive winds blowing here.
He should go inside, it would be common sense. But he could not face his uncle right now. He sighed and looked at the horizon where he saw lightening hit the water…they looked like little yellow tendrils from the sky, and not in the least dangerous. At least not as dangerous as the games Fëanor asked of him… Why could the elder elf not understand that it frightened him?! That he wanted to kiss him, taste him, feel him, not harm him. And further more, not endanger him.
Fëanor himself had tried to comfort him, telling him that he had it all under control.
/Liar./
This was a dangerous matter. A very fine line to walk, and what if it went wrong? What if...
Finrod’s chain of thoughts were disrupted as he felt a hand on his shoulder. “You should come with me inside, penneth,” he heard Fëanor’s voice say
“No, not yet,” he replied and shrugged off Fëanor’s hand
“Please my sweet, it is dangerous to stay out here,” the elder elf said and grabbed Finrod’s arm and hoisted him to his feet. Finrod kept his gaze locked on the ground, and kept silent, as he knew that arguing with his uncle was a futile mission.
So he followed Fëanor inside.
Once in his rooms, Fëanor locked the door and turned towards Finrod. “Why, my beloved? Why do you take this simple request so heavy on your heart?” The elder elf spoke softly, and smiled sadly.
Finrod sat down on his bed and hid his face in his hands. “I cannot do this—I love you, believe me—but I cannot grant you this,” he said and shook his head slowly in utter despair.
Fëanor sighed and moved over to the younger elf and sat down, wrapping an arm protectively around him. “I promise you no harm will come from it. Please, penneth—think it over”
Suddenly anger took over Finrod, and he jerked up and looked defiantly at his uncle. “I have a name, Fëanor—I am *not* your little one, I am Finrod!—and I won’t play your little perverted and twisted game.”
Fëanor frowned, torn between getting angry and being utterly surprised. “Hush now, child, you are not yourself,” he whispered, and caressed Finrod’s cheek.
“D-don’t…” Finrod started, hating himself for stuttering; would he really ever be able to deny his lover something? Was he just playing mind games with himself?
The elder elf smiled at the young one’s hesitation, and let his hand run down to the nape of Finrod’s neck before leaning in and kissing his lover gently. “Finrod,” he whispered, “I love you.”
Finrod could have kicked his lover, pounded him till he was senseless, but he just let out a ragged breath, leaning into the touch of Fëanor. He heard a click and opened his eyes, fully alert, but when he saw Fëanor’s belt coming off, he relaxed.
“Trust me,” Fëanor said softly and closed the belt again, without locking it, so it resembled a noose. Then he smiled reassuringly and kissed Finrod before pulling the belt over his head, letting it rest loosely around his throat. “Come,” he whispered to the scared elf, and guided his lover down between his legs.
Finrod sat on his knees, looking up at the elder elf towering over him, and swallowed hard before gently beginning to unlace Fëanor’s leggings. He looked up again, seeing Fëanor lean backwards, resting both his hands on the madras, before he returned his attention to his lover’s erect member.
He kissed the tip, and nibbled on it—he usually found much reward in pleasurhis his lover like this, but today it would be different; today it repulsed him. He looked up once more to see Fëanor laying flat on his back on the bed with closed eyes, apparently enjoying his ministrations. So he decided to continue. Letting his tongue swirl over the hot flesh, he took the elder elf’s entire length in his mouth and gently pushed a finger inside the tight heat of his lover, searching for the little spot in there that would make the other elf writher in lust.
He heard a strained moan, and felt Fëanor thrust against him. When a hand came down and grabbed his hair, he was prepared. Then Fëanor began to thrust rapidly into his mouth, and he added a second and third finger inside his lover. But just as he tasted the pre-ejaculate, the hand slumped down, letting go of his hair, and all he heard was fast little sharp breaths.
/He’s choking!/
But then he remembered all too clear that this was what his lover wanted—he *wanted* it this way; it gave him pleasure, he said—so Finrod tried to ignore the shallow breaths and continue his business, bringing his lover to the edge. And when he climaxed, Finrod almost choked, as he had no warning. There had been none of the sweet moans, none of the reassuring words.
Nothing.
Nothing but the ragged shallow breathing, and now he heard Fëanor gasp, and go silent. Finrod let his lovers slumping member slide out of his mouth, and wiped his tears away, tears that had come from straining himself not to gag. He then slowly rose to his feet, looking down at his lover, when his heart skipped a beat.
/Fëanor!/
The dark-haired elf lay still, with his eyes turned up so only the white showed. His lips were pale, and his form seemed lifeless. “Aii, what have I done?!” the young elf whispered and quickly crawled up on the bed. Frantically he tried to remove the belt from his lovers throat. “Sweet Elbereth, no, no, no—I should never have agreed…”
The belt was difficult to get off, and as Finrod’s panic escalated, his fingers wouldn’t comply.
“Please, please breathe my love,” he heard his own pained voice whisper, and he tasted the saltiness of his own tears as they silently ran over his lips. “Please, breathe…”
He finally managed to take off the belt, and when he heard Fëanor breathe shallow but steadily, Finrod began to sob. The other elf was out cold, but alive. “This was too close, too close,” he whispered.
Finrod rested his head on Fëanor’s chest, listening to the steady breathing. “Please don’t ever make me do this again,” he begged—well knowing that there would be a next time.
Finrod sat up and gently removed the belt entirely before getting off the bed. He walked out to the balcony and stood there feeling the heavy rain soaking him before he threw the belt, as far as he could, out into the sea.
Hating this game, wishing he could say stop—say no.
- the end-