THE DOOMSMAN

Black marble shone like glass in every direction, twisting up imposing stone columns toward a ceiling too high to be seen.  Elladan was vaguely reminded of the Mines of Moria, except that this place was so much more.  It was far larger, far grander, and far shinier.  A soft mist permeated the air, blurring the edges.  Worse, it seemed that Námo completely disappeared in here even though Elladan knew the Vala was walking at his side. 

But he could feel the Doomsman relax here, so he said nothing.  The mist suddenly parted revealing a tunnel that Elladan was sure hadn't been there before.  It wasn't the first thing that had jumped up unexpectedly and it was giving the half-elf the creeps.

"So where is everyone?" he whispered.  There was no real reason to whisper, but it seemed like the thing to do.  There was something sacred about this place.  Still, Elladan's voice echoed unnaturally in the great hall.

"They are all around you," a disembodied voice murmured in his ear causing the half-elf to jump.

"They are?" Elladan said, jerking his head about as if he could see someone.

"You will not see them.  They are only spirits."

"Oh, are they the mist?" the half-elf asked, still looking about uneasily.

"No, and you needn't worry so.  They cannot see you either."

"Well, that's good I suppose," Elladan murmured.  They turned down another hallway.  The whole place was one big maze, twisting and reorganizing at a whim.  Elladan was completely lost.

"Here," Námo said.  Obediently Elladan stopped but he saw nothing.  The walls were completely smooth.  The half-elf frowned, glancing toward the black shadow solidifying by his side.  When he glanced back, a doorway was cut into the smooth surface.  Swallowing nervously, he walked into the room.

The chambers could hardly be described as cheery.  There were the same glass-black walls and floor.  A table and desk were made of the same substance.  Even the chairs were made of black cloth.  Considering all this, somehow the room was lit but not by any source that Elladan could see. 

"So, um, this is your place huh?"

"Yes," Námo said tonelessly. 

"Do you have a bedroom?" Elladan asked carelessly, already snooping through drawers.

"Through there," Námo said, pointing to a wall that, until a moment ago, was completely solid.  Uninvited, Elladan wandered into the new room.  Black again.  No surprise there.  At least the bed was large and looked comfortable.  To check out his hypothesis, Elladan promptly jumped onto it.  The sheets were black satin, cool against his skin.  Elladan half-expected them to be made of itchy wool.

"Are you satisfied?" Námo asked from the doorway, watching the half-elf curiously.  Elladan levered himself up onto his elbows.

"Do you really live here?"

"These are my rooms, but I do not believe I have entered them in centuries.  I have no need for rest."

"Then why do you have them?" Elladan asked.  Námo shrugged.

"When my kindred began to construct our homes, Lord Manwë suggested we style our dwellings in the manner of the younger races so that we might be more sympathetic with them."

"Well, you'd have to use them for that to work," Elladan said.

"Not necessarily," Námo said quietly.  He had moved a few feet into the room, still watching his companion.  "You do not find it to your liking?" There was no hurt in the Doomsman, just curiosity. 

Elladan glanced around the barren bedroom.  "Well it only needs a few things to make it, um, livable."

"Such as?" Námo pressed.

"Well, some candlelight would be nice," Elladan said.  Instantly the everywhere/nowhere light brightened.  "No, I don't need it brighter."

"But you said you wished for light," Námo said. 

"No, I said I needed candlelight, not that it was too dark in here."

"Then why do you need it?"

"Because fire is a warmer, friendlier light.  It's just nicer to look at," Elladan said.  Námo canted an eyebrow, but obediently the room was suddenly brightened by warm yellow light.  Two large candelabras now flanked the bed.  The light from the fire was reflected over and over again by the shiny black marble in the ceiling, walls, and floor.  It was like a thousand little fireflies. 

"Is that better?" the Doomsman asked.

"Well, yes.  Don't you think so?" Elladan said.  Námo glanced around.

"The light was adequate before this," he replied slowly.  Elladan rolled his eyes. "But this is . . . pretty."

"Yes it is," the half-elf agreed.  "Now what you need is some color."

"What do you suggest?" Námo said.  Elladan got the feeling that the Vala was merely humoring him, but he would take what he could get. 

"Well, you could show the natural wood color in the bed?" Elladan suggested.  Instantly the black headboard returned to the warm brown of oak.  "And why don't you change the black sheets to red?" Námo canted his eyebrow higher but did as he was told. Elladan didn't feel any difference beneath his fingertips, but suddenly he was lying in a sea of red.  With these few small changes, the entire room was changed, now warmer and more inviting. 

"What now?" Námo asked, watching Elladan scoot further up the bed until his head lay on the fluffy pillows. 

"This is good.  Why don't you try it out?"

******

Námo couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something suspicious about the way Elladan said that.   The Vala sat on the bed anyway, willing to humor his intended.  He studied the half-elf closely.  Elladan was wearing a loose green shirt and tight leather pants.  There was a distinctive sparkle in his silver eyes that never ceased to draw Námo's attention.  His spirit vibrated with life and mischief, and Námo found himself captivated as he always did. 

Though Námo had spent quite a bit of time in denial, the truth was that ever since he had first laid eyes on the beautiful half-elf he had been constantly distracted by the memory.  In the deepest recesses of his soul, he had immediately recognized their connection.  And, like any so attuned with their spirit, Námo's subconscious could not let such a revelation go unacknowledged.  Thoughts of Elladan crept upon the Doomsman at any moment he was not actively guarding against them.

And now it was more difficult.  Before, he had one memory of the half-elf, when Elladan was groggy, ill, and not awake.  Some of his vibrant soul was obvious back then but not as it shone now.  It the last few days, Námo had become acquainted with the rest of his intended's spirit.  It was such a contrast to the elves he usually met; even the living were in need of spiritual aid. 

Elladan needed nothing like that.  He was sure of himself and those around him.  He loved life and his family, and they in turn loved him back.  His spirit was in need of nothing but adventure, which he and his brother were very good at creating for themselves.  The vibrancy of a truly healthy spirit left Námo in awe.

And Elladan's soul was pulsating with some new mischief now. 

Námo watched curiously as the half-elf slowly sat up so they could look each other in the eye.  The topmost button on his loose shirt slipped out of its hole revealing more smooth skin.  Unwillingly Námo's eyes were drawn to it. 

"So, what do you think?" Elladan said, his voice pitched a little lower than was his usual.  Oddly it sent a shiver down Námo's spine that he was unaccustomed to.  He added it to the list of things he had to ask Oromë about.

"It feels exactly as it did before," Námo said.  He had to admit, in that deepest, darkest, most hidden part of his soul, he did rather enjoy being obtuse.  He learned much about other beings by how quickly they became frustrated with him.

At the moment, Elladan merely rolled his eyes and shook his head with what might be fond exasperation.  "Yeah, physically it's exactly the same, but mood-wise�" Elladan stopped, his eyes raking over the Vala without any attempt to be subtle.  "Well, it's a whole new game now, isn't it?" he purred softly.  Suddenly the whole aura of the room shifted.  It was heavier, thicker, weighing pleasantly on the Vala.  The room filled with a vibrant tension that left Námo a little breathless, and completely unable to respond.

Slowly Elladan leaned forward, and Námo suddenly realized that he intended to kiss him once again.

The Doomsman remained passive, letting him do so.  He had meditated on the first kiss, realizing what it was.  Of course it had been foolish not to have recognized it at first, but Námo had not expected the affectionate gesture to be so intense.  By contrast, this kiss was much gentler.

Elladan let one of his hands slide up Námo's arm towards his neck where his fingers began a soothing caress.  Námo felt himself relax.  This was hardly as overpowering or startling as the first kiss.  He felt Elladan's other hand slide up his other arm, slip over his chest to the clasp at his neck, and it became clear what the extent of the half-elf's intentions were. 

The Vala was not surprised this time.  He was well aware of the many ways elves physically expressed affection.  Elladan's first kiss had reminded him that the half-elf would obviously expect such gestures, and Námo had accepted his wishes.  Among the Valar such gestures were unnecessary.  Námo and Vairë had merged their spirits long ago.  Compared to such an intimate embrace, physical unions seemed insubstantial.  But the Valar had never seen anything wrong with them, and Námo was certainly willing to please his intended in this way.  There was no reason not to, and the Doomsman found himself curious about it.

Finally Elladan drew away and studied his companion.  "You don't seem as freaked out now," he commented, fingers playing with the clasp at the Vala's neck that was now undone.  Námo lifted a delicate eyebrow.

"I do not know what you mean by the term 'freaked out', but your kiss does not surprise me," he said solemnly. 

"Become predictable already, huh?" Námo frowned.  Predictable was the last thing he would call his intended, but he did not get the chance to tell him that.  "I'll have to change that," Elladan said, a wicked grin forming on his perfect lips.  Warning bells went off in the Vala's head, right before the half-elf pounced on him.

Their lips met again, this time with nothing resembling gentleness.  The firestorm from before was back, sizzling the blood in his veins.  Elladan's hands were busy removing the robes from his shoulders, though Námo barely noticed the loss.  His whole focus was on the tongue doing obscene things to his teeth, sucking out the air in his lungs making him dizzy.

Námo had never been dizzy before.

Finally Elladan drew back, but he gave him no chance to catch his breath.  The half-elf began to string kisses down his chest.  That tongue was back, circling around his nipple.  Námo didn't even register the sudden lack of his clothes, his whole focus on the sensations that wet mouth was sending through him. 

A gentle nip made the Vala arch into the teeth.  The flash of pain flared through him, and if he were aware, he might marvel that he should feel so much pleasure from it. 

Elladan's mouth was moving again, following the fiery trails left by his burning hands.  He licked at the salty sweat covering the Vala like a sheen, spreading little kisses and bites down along the sharp ridge of Námo's hipbone. 

A soft cheek bumped against the hard length of the Vala's erection, returning his attention to it.  That too was a pleasurable pain, a deep need that caused an embarrassing moan to slip from his lips.  Hearing the sound, Elladan turned a wicked grin on him and rubbed against his cock again like some sexy cat.  A slight turn of his head and Námo was introduced to the sensation of a rough tongue teasingly licking him.  He shuddered, another moan pouring from his lips. 

Námo tried to look away, knowing that if he could just break the hypnotic gaze the younger half-elf had he might be able to regain some semblance of control.  But he could not turn away, could not close his eyes.  He was falling into those wicked silver eyes, peering up at him from above his cock.  They held him fast, looking deeper into him than anyone else before.  It left him bare, naked, vulnerable.

And aching for more.

Elladan had ceased to tease him, now engulfing him in the heat of his mouth.  Námo could see his cheeks hollow, could feel the suction straight down to his toes.  Still those bright silver eyes held him captive.  Elladan's hands had disappeared; Námo had no idea where, but whatever they were doing was causing those glowing eyes to darken. 

The Doomsman was suddenly aware of his heart; that ancient organ that had beat a steady, unbroken rhythm since his conception was now hammering at his ribcage, trying to find a way out of his body.  Something was tingling at the base of his spine like a ball of lightening condensing, ready to shoot through him in a blast of pleasure.  His whole body strained, ready, waiting for that explosion.  The Vala couldn't catch his breath; he was so close.

Possibly sensing this, Elladan drew back, a wicked glint in his eyes.  His lips were swollen and wet, looking so enticing that Námo was reaching for him even before he knew what he was doing.  He could taste himself on those full lips, a bitter, salty taste that made his cock twitch. 

He could feel the heat of the half-elf suspended right above him.  Even as they kissed, Elladan reached behind himself for the thick length he was hovering over.  His hands were oily; Námo couldn't think why that made his heart race faster.  The tongue sweeping along the roof of his mouth commanded his attention, distracting him until he felt a slight pressure at the tip of his cock.

Instinctively he pressed up looking for more of the delicious sensation.  Elladan moved up too, still teasing him.  Námo growled deep in his throat, needing to feel more.  He pulled back, looking at the half-elf hovering a moment away from impaling himself onto Námo's length.  The Vala had never seen anything so beautiful in his long life. 

On their own accord, his hands moved to Elladan's hips helping him seat himself on the hard flesh of Námo's erection.  The sight of it slowly disappearing, the tight squeeze had the Vala panting.  There was little resistance, no real friction, just tightness.  A stray thought flew into his mind, bringing him the realization that Elladan must have prepared himself while swallowing around the Vala's cock.  The thought nearly undid the powerful Doomsman. 

His fingers tightened on Elladan's hips, the unnatural strength leaving deep bruises but only encouraging the younger half-elf.  Elladan's powerful thighs strained as he slowly raised his body, setting an agonizingly slow rhythm.  Námo growled again.  The tight feeling near his spine was back, but the sensation wasn't enough.  His intended kept him right on the edge, refusing to let him fall over.

That was unacceptable. 

A rush of passion bordering on anger flooded Námo's psyche, and in a quick move, he shifted their positions so that he was looming over his soulmate.  A satisfied smirk settled onto Elladan's face as he lifted his hips and made a slow rolling motion that made Námo grit his teeth to keep any semblance of his sanity. 

Letting instincts he had never known he possessed take over, the Doomsman began to ruthlessly pound into the willing body beneath him, his nails digging deep into slim hips.  A constant stream of broken encouragement tumbled from Elladan's lips.

"Harder . . . Valar! Right there . . . Fuck! Don't stop . . . please--Námo, fuck, please, more . . . Námo!" he cried, the last said on a loud shout as the tight walls squeezing the Vala suddenly contracted pulling him further in.

Suddenly his vision cut out as a lightening bolt of pleasure crashed down his spine, straight out his groin.  It seemed forever, his body arched impossibly, head thrown back, every muscle tense.  His inners were trying to pour out of him, but that wasn't the only sensation he felt.  Distantly, but with the same immediacy, he felt the same waves of pleasure emanating from beneath him, realized he had felt it all along but could not distinguish himself from the half-elf.

He couldn't think of that; his whole focus on the rush of sensation flooding through him, through Elladan, firing back and forth between them, making the ecstasy last.

The unfamiliar sound of a heartbeat beneath his ear brought Námo back to awareness with a snap.  He could feel Elladan trying to collect his thoughts, a deep laziness seeping into the half-elf's bones.  No such relaxation came to the Vala, who felt panicked and unsettled. 

He had been unable to control his actions.  There were small gaps in his memory, things he could not account for.  Námo had been unaware of what Elladan was doing, of what was going on beyond this room.  His body demanded his whole attention, making him act in a way contrary to his nature.  He had been needy, even violent.  Never before had the spirit become subservient to the flesh.  Such was not the way of the Valar.  The flesh was merely a casement for others to view them so that they did not overwhelm, but it was a tool.  It did exactly what it was told.  It should never make demands of its own, should never outweigh the inner sense. 

But the subduing of his spirit by the flesh did not affect him nearly so much as the complete loss of himself.  In that moment of climax, he was one with Elladan in a way he had never before been with another person.  All that he was had disappeared, leaving him a part of something else.  Not even with Vairë had he let himself be completely overtaken, completely joined with another. 

Námo had never before realized what value his self had for him.  He had always been subservient to his Creator's will, to the decrees of Manwë, and to the needs of the dead.  And he had done all of this gladly.  As he gave so much of himself to others, he had never considered that secretly he hoarded some small part of his self for himself alone, untouched, unreachable, unexposed to anyone. 

Now Elladan had seen that deepest part of him.  Had seen it and overwhelmed it, destroying it and making it his before remaking it and setting it back.  But it was not the same.  It belonged now to Elladan as much as to himself.  And because it belonged to him, the young half-elf had power over him.

The thought terrified the mighty Vala.

Sensing Elladan collect the last parts of his consciousness, almost returned to awareness, Námo found himself petrified.  He could not deal with this now.

NEXT

Comments: serenityabrin@hotmail.com