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Because I Love You

Beta: Eni
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Fingon/Maedhros
Warning: PWP, pure PWP
Disclaimer: Not in any way mine
Summary: One of Fingon's and Maedhros' rare mornings together...

Sometimes I just watch him as he sleep, his strong face relaxed and peaceful, and my heart aches with his beauty, aches with my love.

I trace my fingers over the pale skin, over your forehead, the hollow at your temple, the high cheekbones. Lovingly, my caress comes to a rest at your mouth, the soft, moist lips parted in sleep. Desire stirs in me as always when I am with you. It has been this way since you were merely forty and I even younger, long before I understood the emotions that raged through my young body; even then I ached to touch you.

I smile as I remember you as you were then, too tall and gangly, hands and feet too large and clumsy as an overgrown pup and still, in my eyes, you were beautiful. We were innocents then, children, aware of the tension between your father and mine, but we chose to ignore it; to us it meant nothing, not then. Too many years, centuries, have passed since then, as has our innocence, yours more than mine. The gentle boy that I knew in childhood is gone, replaced by a man that is all muscle – hardened by too many wars, all hard steel and cold logic. Still, you are beautiful.

My hand resumes its exploration of your well loved body, ghosting over a gracefully pointed ear, your smooth neck and broad shoulders; what perfection had been used when you were shaped, Maitimo, smooth, strong and flawless. Light fingers run over your satiny skin and firm muscle, down your arm and then…nothing, the only flaw in perfection - which I had put there.

As my thumb rubs slowly over the healed scar the images haunt me. Once again, I see you shackled to Thangorodrim, begging me to end your suffering, to slay you whom I love above all others, and I feel the despair I felt then. I know that if I close my eyes, the jolt of my sword cutting through flesh will travel up my sword arm once again, the cutting of bones and tendons as your blood soaked us both. Could I have saved you whole if I had tried harder, my love? Was there a solution that I, in my despair, could not see before I took your hand away from you? Guilt overcomes me again and I press my lips against the scar; inside I scream, cry for forgiveness that can never be found.

I feel your eyes upon me, unsure of when you awoke, and I shy from your gaze. How can I meet your eyes, knowing what I cost you?

“You had no choice.” Your deep voice is calm, quiet and as always it sends shivers of pleasure down my spine. “There is no guilt, Findekáno.”

But you are wrong. There is guilt. Hot and sickening, it tries to strangle me and I can see it in your brothers when they look at me, but we do not speak about that. Or rather I do not; you try at times, as you do now.

Your one hand entangles itself among my braids, mostly undone by love and sleep, as you gently pull at my hair, forcing me to meet your eyes. “There is no guilt,” you repeat steadily without letting go of me, denying me the option of hiding. Only when I nod does your grip lessen.

“No guilt,” I say obligingly. My voice is low and hoarse and I suddenly realise that we have never said this much before; never until now have you forced me to say the words, to agree with you. My love for you threatens to choke me and I bend down, crushing your lips beneath mine as I taste you, desperately. Our times together are too few and too hurried, our pleasure kept hidden and secret for our close kinship, and still I cannot get enough of you. Never will I tire of your touch or taste. There will be neither wife nor child in my future no matter what the years will bring; I gave my heart to a gangly child long before the sun and moon graced the skies and it cannot be reclaimed, nor do I want it to be.

My tongue traces your lips and your mouth opens for me, allowing me entry. I drink deeply, plunging my tongue between your lips and teeth, tasting that flavour that is uniquely yours. I am surprised at your submission this morning; it has been centuries since the last time I saw you this relaxed, this peaceful when awake, and I wonder what has changed. Our tongues dance together and I move, stretching my body over yours, resting between your strong legs as we kiss.

Your body is hard against mine, an artwork of muscle and skin and strength. I cannot get enough of you, cannot taste you deeply enough to satiate my thirst as we rub against each other, our hard erections trapped between our bodies. Your hand is still in my hair, grip tightening as you pull away from the kiss and turn your head, giving me access to the smooth skin of our neck. I feel your arm wrap itself around my waist before settling against my lower back, pressing my erection harder against yours; our pre-ejaculate is already making us both slick, sticky as out arousal soars higher.

My mouth finds your ear, sucking mercilessly; how I love the sounds you make as my tongue and teeth caress your earlobe. The whimpers which I knew you would make cause me to shiver, as does the change in your breathing: fast, hard and shallow breaths of need.

“Findekáno, please…”

The hoarseness in your voice makes me smile. You will not plead for mercy on the battlefield but here, in my bed, you have no such restrictions as you come undone, writhing mindlessly, for me, only for me. My heart is beating so hard that I fear it will escape from my chest - our need is always like this, hot, strong and relentless.

My hands roam over your body, feverishly touching all the skin I can reach, caressing you in all the ways I can possibly think of, making you writhe more. For a moment I fear I will spill myself like this, against your hot skin, but I regain my control, barely.

“Findekáno.” Your voice is broken, raw with passion as you say my name again and I shudder in response. I cannot wait, not this time. Still I hesitate; to take or be taken? Your muscular legs wrap themselves around my hips as you tilt yours against me. It seems you have a preference this morning, my love, and as always I will follow your lead. I look around for the oil we used freely last night but before my eyes find it you arch harder against me.

“Now.” Despite the breathlessness your voice is firm, certain, and I know what you want. “Hard, Findekáno.”

I ignore you. Carefully I bury myself inside your body, grateful that we fell asleep last night before we had bathed: you may be unprepared this time but I will not harm you. Slowly I sink into you, biting down hard on my lip to keep control of myself. You want this, the pain and the pleasure, as I bury myself to the hilt. The tight throbbing heat around me is my undoing and I withdraw, feeling you cling to me, reluctant to let go and then I take you again, hard and deep. Again and again I thrust inside you, feeling my pulse race faster, my heart beat quicker as I take you.

“Ye….Findek…” Your words are broken by need, incoherent pants coming out of your lovely mouth and I can feel my body tightening as I look at you, your body flushed with arousal, fiery hair spilling over the cream pillows, clinging to your skin. Your grey eyes are almost black and glazed with lust as you thrust wildly, desperately against my stomach.

I pound into you, my force and speed increasing as I lower my face against your neck, biting down hard where the smooth skin joins your shoulder. The added pain and pleasure makes you convulse.

Your voice is raw and hoarse as you scream my name, your seed pumping between us in hard jets, hot, slick semen coating our stomachs. I can almost taste it in my mouth, the essence of you, warm, rich and delicious. I bury myself deep inside you as I continue to thrust into the channel that is pulsating hard around me and I scream wordlessly as I spill myself, filling you with my essence. Only when I am empty do my hips stop moving as I fall over you, exhausted by the intensity of our lovemaking. It is always like this.

Your hand plays with my braids as you continue to hold me close. You always loved my braids and so they are my only vanity; I twist gold through them, making them more pleasing to your eyes. I love you, with all that I am and I always have. You are my reason for living in a world where nothing else seems to make sense and so for you there is nothing I would not do.

I move off your body, leaving my head against your shoulder, my leg draped over yours as our hearts and breathing calm.

“I see hope in you again,” I say finally, addressing the change which I have seen in you since you came to me late last night.

“I have hope,” you answer, a tired smile in your voice. “For the first time I can remember, I have hope. This time I think we can win.”

Another war then. I am so tired of them, tired of bloodshed and duty. I never wanted the responsibility of the crown that rests so heavily on my head, the crown both our fathers wanted so highly. Yet I know that I will fight. I will lead my people into yet another war because of you. If I fight beside you I can keep you safe, I can make sure that you will return to me, and so I make my people bleed for my love.

“I will come,” I promise you as I close my eyes. When dawn comes I will prepare my people for a fifth battle, because I love you.