How the Mighty are Fallen
folder
+Almaren and Valinor, Pre-Trees - Trees › AU - Alternate Universe
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,497
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+Almaren and Valinor, Pre-Trees - Trees › AU - Alternate Universe
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,497
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I don't own Mairon, Melkor, or any other characters, places, or things within the Tolkien realm and I make no money off this story.
How the Mighty are Fallen
“Mairon.”
The Maia put down the necklace he’d been working on, turning to see whom had called him. Upon seeing Melkor, he crossed his arms defensively and furrowed his brow. “Why are you here?” he asked the Vala.
Melkor only smiled, sauntering closer, his fingers trailing over one of the work tables. “Do I truly need a reason to visit you?” he countered. “Aulë’s best. Why not leave him, and serve one with better purpose than forging trinkets?”
Mairon snorted. “You seek only to destroy,” he stated.
“Untrue,” Melkor purred. “I seek to reshape. There is a difference, my friend.”
“Explain,” Mairon said.
Melkor did, incorporating all manner of lies – but lies that were believable, for he very much desired the Maia to serve him. One such as he would prove extremely useful in his rebellion, after all. Still, he noted the Maia’s expression didn’t waver from being distrustful, and that didn’t set well with him. He would have to resort to … other means … to obtain him.
“I find your words hard to swallow, Melkor,” Mairon told him. “Only Ilúvatar himself has that sort of power. Remove yourself from my forge.”
Rage boiled up in the Vala, and quickly he crossed the distance to the Maia. “I see you have need of persuasion,” he growled, backhanding him before Mairon could react to protect himself. While the Maia was stunned, he worked quickly to bind his hands behind him, forcing him over the work table and tearing through the leggings he wore to expose him. “I wanted to be nice to you, but you won’t let me be. You’ll learn, eventually, that rebellion against me is futile.”
“You cannot do this!” Mairon cried, struggling against the leather that bound him, the hand that held him down.
“Oh yes I can,” Melkor purred dangerously.
Agony flared in the Maia, white heat racing over his nerves and dragging a scream from him as he was breached. All coherent thought fled him, replaced only by the vicious, burning pain. Vainly he struggled to free himself, to get away from the Vala, but it was no use. Melkor had him where he wanted him.
Melkor took his time, savoring the feel of Mairon’s tight heat clinging to his girth. A glance at the Maia’s face showed those eyes to be closed tightly, the inky brow furrowed in pain, and that full bottom lip was bloodied where he’d bitten it to stave off any further noises. A cruel smile curved the Vala’s lips as he quickened his thrusts, feeling the stickiness of Mairon’s blood on his cock. I will have you, Mairon, whether you are willing or not, he reflected.
The Maia didn’t move from his position even after he felt the Vala remove himself from his abused body and release the leather that bound him. Somewhere in his mind he clung to the hope that all of this had been nothing more than illusion … but even an illusion skillfully crafted wouldn’t hurt this badly. Still, he didn’t move, fear creeping up his spine at what other horrors the Vala could – and possibly would – inflict upon him.
“I’ll give you a week to think about it, Mairon,” Melkor stated, staring at his slightly trembling form still leaned over the table. “I’ll expect the correct answer from you when I return.”
Mairon waited several minutes before he dared even open his eyes again. Finding the forge completely empty, he stood carefully, yelping at the pain that lanced through him. Nausea rose in him now that it was over, and he staggered to the wash basin to eject the meager contents of his stomach. I should tell Aulë, he told himself. But what can he do? Ilúvatar, I was raped … do I even want him to know this?
He shook his head, wiping his face with a damp cloth. “No,” he murmured. “No one must know. I couldn’t bear to see how they would look at me if they knew.” Carefully he cleaned himself up, wrapping an apron about himself to hide his torn leggings. Making sure the forge looked like it was supposed to, that there were no tell-tale signs of what had happened within, he left it and locked the doors.
His heart heavy, he walked to his home. He had exactly a week to consider his options … though really there was only one option he had. Melkor wanted him, for reasons he didn’t understand. Did he dare to turn him down again, knowing what he could do? Then again, if he agreed to join him, would Melkor treat him any better?
Mairon just didn’t know.
The Maia put down the necklace he’d been working on, turning to see whom had called him. Upon seeing Melkor, he crossed his arms defensively and furrowed his brow. “Why are you here?” he asked the Vala.
Melkor only smiled, sauntering closer, his fingers trailing over one of the work tables. “Do I truly need a reason to visit you?” he countered. “Aulë’s best. Why not leave him, and serve one with better purpose than forging trinkets?”
Mairon snorted. “You seek only to destroy,” he stated.
“Untrue,” Melkor purred. “I seek to reshape. There is a difference, my friend.”
“Explain,” Mairon said.
Melkor did, incorporating all manner of lies – but lies that were believable, for he very much desired the Maia to serve him. One such as he would prove extremely useful in his rebellion, after all. Still, he noted the Maia’s expression didn’t waver from being distrustful, and that didn’t set well with him. He would have to resort to … other means … to obtain him.
“I find your words hard to swallow, Melkor,” Mairon told him. “Only Ilúvatar himself has that sort of power. Remove yourself from my forge.”
Rage boiled up in the Vala, and quickly he crossed the distance to the Maia. “I see you have need of persuasion,” he growled, backhanding him before Mairon could react to protect himself. While the Maia was stunned, he worked quickly to bind his hands behind him, forcing him over the work table and tearing through the leggings he wore to expose him. “I wanted to be nice to you, but you won’t let me be. You’ll learn, eventually, that rebellion against me is futile.”
“You cannot do this!” Mairon cried, struggling against the leather that bound him, the hand that held him down.
“Oh yes I can,” Melkor purred dangerously.
Agony flared in the Maia, white heat racing over his nerves and dragging a scream from him as he was breached. All coherent thought fled him, replaced only by the vicious, burning pain. Vainly he struggled to free himself, to get away from the Vala, but it was no use. Melkor had him where he wanted him.
Melkor took his time, savoring the feel of Mairon’s tight heat clinging to his girth. A glance at the Maia’s face showed those eyes to be closed tightly, the inky brow furrowed in pain, and that full bottom lip was bloodied where he’d bitten it to stave off any further noises. A cruel smile curved the Vala’s lips as he quickened his thrusts, feeling the stickiness of Mairon’s blood on his cock. I will have you, Mairon, whether you are willing or not, he reflected.
The Maia didn’t move from his position even after he felt the Vala remove himself from his abused body and release the leather that bound him. Somewhere in his mind he clung to the hope that all of this had been nothing more than illusion … but even an illusion skillfully crafted wouldn’t hurt this badly. Still, he didn’t move, fear creeping up his spine at what other horrors the Vala could – and possibly would – inflict upon him.
“I’ll give you a week to think about it, Mairon,” Melkor stated, staring at his slightly trembling form still leaned over the table. “I’ll expect the correct answer from you when I return.”
Mairon waited several minutes before he dared even open his eyes again. Finding the forge completely empty, he stood carefully, yelping at the pain that lanced through him. Nausea rose in him now that it was over, and he staggered to the wash basin to eject the meager contents of his stomach. I should tell Aulë, he told himself. But what can he do? Ilúvatar, I was raped … do I even want him to know this?
He shook his head, wiping his face with a damp cloth. “No,” he murmured. “No one must know. I couldn’t bear to see how they would look at me if they knew.” Carefully he cleaned himself up, wrapping an apron about himself to hide his torn leggings. Making sure the forge looked like it was supposed to, that there were no tell-tale signs of what had happened within, he left it and locked the doors.
His heart heavy, he walked to his home. He had exactly a week to consider his options … though really there was only one option he had. Melkor wanted him, for reasons he didn’t understand. Did he dare to turn him down again, knowing what he could do? Then again, if he agreed to join him, would Melkor treat him any better?
Mairon just didn’t know.