Annatar - Chapter 1

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by WynterStormcrow

Libraries: Alternate Universe, Fantasy, Misc Literary Works, One Shots

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Sauron (Annatar) gets a surprise visit from a female during his time in Mandos.

Moriel was bored.


A bit drunk too, but that was beside the point.


Námo and Fëanor were caught up in the Ainu’s chambers, playing a game of tablero that was guaranteed to last for hours yet – why they enjoyed such a dreadfully boring game, she would never know.  She had attempted to gain their attention once, and when they ignored her she had snatched up a bottle of Námo’s wine and swept out of the room in a fit of pique.


Close to two hours later, she found herself aimlessly walking down a long, darkened hallway, occasionally swallowing a good mouthful of the wine.  The Ainu made wine like no one’s business; heady, richly spiced, and unbelievably high in alcohol content.  Uttering a heavy sigh, she noted the bench at the end of the hallway and made for it to sit for a spell and decide what to do next.


She didn’t see the eyes that watched her from the darkness.


Eyes of flame drank in the sight of the elleth, a smile tugging at his lips at her apparent inebriation.  “Well, and what brings such a lovely sight into the darkness here?” he asked softly.


Moriel didn’t even flinch at that soft, velvety voice.  She was well-accustomed to Mandos, and knew that she was rarely alone anywhere she wandered.  “Boredom,” she replied, and eyed the bottle of wine with a rueful smile.  “Perhaps a bit of drunkenness as well.”  Her eyes rose, going to the heavy door with the barred window and meeting those strange eyes.  “Who are you?”


He thought for a moment, wondering what name he should give her.  “You may call me Annatar,” he finally answered.  “I have had many names over the years – I think I prefer that one most.”


“Annatar,” she echoed, enjoying the way it flowed off her tongue.  “My name is Moriel.”


“Maiden of darkness,” Annatar murmured, his eyes raking over her again.  “I don’t suppose you’d keep me company for a time, would you?  It’s rare that anyone comes here … down this hall.”


Moriel rose to her feet, approaching the heavy door.  She was drawn to Annatar, though she could not say why.  Curious as to what he looked like, she extracted the key Námo had given her and unlocked the door to open it.


The Maia stepped back as the door swung open, his shock apparent on his face.  “How is it that you come to have a key, Moriel?” he inquired as she entered his chambers and closed the door behind her.


“Námo trusts me, Annatar,” she told him, looking him over slowly.  He reminded her of Fëanor in ways, though she thought Annatar’s skin to be shades lighter.  She thought he might be taller than Fëanor also, and Annatar’s hair was board straight rather than having that bit of wave to it.  He wore heavy velvet robes in black, and all of that thick, black hair was pulled up in a high ponytail.


Now that she was close to him, Annatar realized just how small the elleth was.  The top of her head would not reach his chin.  “You’re so small,” he murmured, breathing in her scent.


Moriel drank more wine, gazing up at Annatar and feeling her blood heat.  He was certainly attractive … she would have to feel him out and see how receptive he was though.  It would be embarrassing to have him reject her.  Raising one eyebrow, she offered him the bottle.  “Wine, Annatar?”


A smile appeared as he took the bottle from her.  “I see you’ve pilfered his wine,” he remarked, taking a small sip to let it roll around on his tongue first.


“He doesn’t mind,” she murmured, wandering over to the padded bench to seat herself.


The Maia took a larger sip, joining her on the bench.  He could feel a myriad of emotions swirling inside the elleth, and her scent had grown slightly stronger.  The desire to touch her skin struck him, but he did not act on it.  He didn’t wish to incur the wrath of the Lord of Mandos, after all.


“What is it with you males and these heavy damned robes you insist on wearing?” Moriel remarked suddenly, her fingers plucking at the rich material.


Annatar hid the smile.  “I’d take them off, but … I confess to not wearing much beneath them.”  The look she shot him at those words stole his breath and stopped his heart for an instant.  “Moriel … what would you have me do?  I dare not risk Námo’s anger”—


“A pox on him and his bloody anger,” she interrupted, snatching the bottle out of his hand and swallowing several mouthfuls of wine at once.  Setting the bottle aside, she moved to straddle Annatar’s lap.  “Námo at this very moment sits in his chambers with Fëanáro playing that bloody dull as hell game that will keep them both busy for hours to come.  I am bored and want company.  Do you understand me now?”


“I understand you, vanima,” Annatar told her, torn between wanting to rid her of the gown she wore and wanting to keep from inciting the Ainu’s rage.  “You have Námo’s favor though – he may see you as his.”


Those eyes turned black even as he watched, and Moriel pressed closer to him.  “Vêfantur does not own me,” she growled.  “No one does.”


His control had only been so good, and those words wrested it from  him.  Instantly his mouth was on hers, and his right hand tangled in her hair while his left found her breast.  The small sound she uttered as his hand kneaded her breast combined with the tightening of her legs had him up off the bench and over to the bed where he tossed her down in the center.  “If you don’t want this to continue, you have until I count to three to leave here,” he murmured, eyes narrowed.  “One.”


She shed her boots.




The gown was undone and tossed onto the floor.




Moriel lie back against the furs, her legs opening in invitation.  “You’ve too many clothes on, Annatar,” she expressed.


The Maia drank in the sight of her spread nude, his hands deftly unfastening the stays that held the robes closed.  Shrugging them off, he removed the thin leggings next along with his sandals.  Prowling onto the bed with her, he positioned himself between her thighs and turned his head to lick his way up the inside of the right.


She squirmed, reaching to grip a handful of his hair to pull on firmly in hopes of drawing him further up.  It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy foreplay.  Tonight just saw her in a fell mood, and all she wanted was to be held down while he took his pleasure from her.  Raw, primal, rough sex … was it too much to ask?


Annatar grabbed her hand firmly, pulling it out of his hair and favoring her with a dangerous look.  “We are doing this my way, vanimorë, or we will not do it at all,” he warned.  As she settled back down, he released her hand and bent his head back down to her sex.  Using the fingers of his right hand, he parted the pink folds gently and at once speared his tongue into her.


The combination of the wine, her arousal, and the sensation of being penetrated was enough to drag an unwilling cry from her throat.  Writhing on the bed, she fisted the fur coverlet and bit down on her bottom lip while Annatar pushed her into orgasm.  That prehensile tongue seemed to know all of her most sensitive places, and spared none of them.


It had been far longer than he wanted to think of since he’d last lain with a female, and by Eru he was going to drag this out as long as he could.  Savoring the spicy-sweet taste of the elleth gracing his bed, the Maia exploited every last inch of her sex.  Delving, probing, licking, and suckling he acquainted himself well with her nether regions. He wrought the orgasms from her, savoring the way she shuddered and called out his name.  Finally he satisfied his curiosity about how she tasted, and moved slowly upwards.  Light, whispery-soft kisses were places along her abdomen and up to her full breasts where he stopped to lavish attention on each of them as well.  Dark, hardened nipples were lightly bitten and suckled in turn, his hand massaging the firm flesh.  As he drew himself against her, he felt her shudder hard and smiled.


“Ai!” she cried, her legs winding up around his waist.  “Annatar! Maurinyel, iquista!”


The Maia threaded the fingers of his left hand into the silk of her hair, holding it firmly while he positioned himself with his right to penetrate her.  As the head of his member started to slip into her hot, slick folds he felt her shudder hard again and realized she’d attained orgasm again.  “Torû sharlob,” he murmured, slipping into his own tongue without thought.  As the last spasm passed, he leaned in to capture her mouth with his and thrust into her hard.  The heat she gave off was unbelievable, and though he knew her to be no maiden she clung to his length like a glove.


Moriel fought Annatar for control of the kiss, her nails scoring his shoulders and arms.  The feel of him inside her was maddening, obliterating what little control she had left and making her desperate.  She bucked hard against him, her need about to consume her.


Tearing his mouth away from hers, he stared at her for a moment.  “Are you trying to make me hurt you then?” he asked.


“Yes!” she yelled, almost in tears.  “I won’t break, damn it!  You can be nice to me later, just for the love of Eru fuck me!”


Astonished that she even knew that word, he couldn’t help the brief surprised look.  “You have spent too much time around Námo,” he murmured, smirking even as he said it.  “Alright.  We’ll do this your way.”  Not giving her any time to get her bearings, he hooked her legs over his arms to raise her hips off the bed and thrust into her hard enough to jar her.  His eyes fixed on her face, he thrust into her hard, deep, and fast, watching as she writhed and clawed at the coverlet.


Foolishly she believed it would be over in a matter of minutes.  She didn’t know who she was dealing with though … five minutes turned into ten, and then to fifteen, and still Annatar didn’t slow the intensity of the thrusts.  After the thirteenth orgasm, she herself was forced to call a truce.  “Ai, enough,” she managed to get out, “I yield.  You win, Annatar.  You have … better stamina than what I’m used to.”


The Maia chuckled, releasing her legs and slowing the thrusts.  Leaning in, he brushed his lips over her cheek, forehead, and the tip of her nose before claiming her mouth again.  This time she didn’t fight him for control, and he was able to explore the contours of her mouth at leisure.


Another ten minutes passed while he kissed and caressed her, and finally he felt his own orgasm begin to build.  He’d never been quick to orgasm, though, so this really wasn’t unusual for him.  Cradling her head with one hand and her hip with the other, he quickened the thrusts just enough to push himself over into orgasm.  Shuddering hard, he felt her put her arms around him as he spilled his seed into the heat of her body.


When it was over, he figured she would get dressed, maybe thank him for the sex, and leave.  He was in for another surprise though, because Moriel simply curled herself around him with a contented sigh.  “You … you wish to stay with me?” he asked, unsure.


“I do, Annatar,” she murmured.  “Námo trusts me, else he would not have given me that key.”  She rose up to meet his eyes, a smile lingering on her lips.  “It could be that I desire your attention again … or that I wish to return the favor perhaps.”


“Mm.”  He drew her close, breathing her scent in and savoring the heat of her body against his.  “Either of those you’ll find I won’t argue against.  You’re a treasure, Moriel.”

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