Fëanor carried the palantir into the "lounge room" portion of his workshop. He pushed aside the pitcher of water sitting aside the tall marble column table, and set the palantir down. He cleared his throat, took a few steps back, and watched the surface of the dark glass ball shift, from plain black glass to flickering flames, and then swirling bands of colored light.
It was showtime.
Fëanor began to undress slowly... teasingly. When Ñolofinwë and Arafinwë checked their palantiri later for messages, they would get quite a feast for their eyes. Fëanor couldn't help chuckling to himself, envisioning each of them trembling with anticipation, aching to see his flesh fully exposed. He took his sweet time, running his fingers over each part exposed - a forearm here, a bicep there, his stomach, a thigh, a nipple. His own body was a work of art, but the heat in their eyes, so clear in his mind's eye now, was even moreso. It would be glorious to watch them panting for him, close to release just from him undressing himself.
At last - too soon for his liking but probably not soon enough for theirs - he was fully nude. He posed, his waist-length mane flowing perfectly down his back, showing off the rippled muscles honed by the hard work of the forge. A flexed leg obscured his cock. He gave a sultry look into the palantir, knowing his brothers would see the desire in his eyes, wanting them just as badly as they wanted him.
Just before he could turn to let the palantir capture his cock for his brothers' eyes, he heard another set of feet, another breath.
He thought it might be Nerdanel, but when he glanced over his shoulder he saw Maitimo, imitating his pose exactly... or at least the pose of his body. Maitimo's lips were pouting, his cheeks sucked in, and he was crossing his eyes. Imitating, and making fun of him at the same time.
Fëanor whirled around and Maitimo threw back his head with laughter.
"Do you mind? I'm trying to put on a show for your uncles," Fëanor growled.
Maitimo grinned. "Hi Trying To Put On A Show For Your Uncles."
Before Fëanor could lunge, Maitimo ran off, howling with laughter. Fëanor facepalmed, but he couldn't help laughing, too. Nelyafinwë came by it honestly, and Fëanor was just a little proud of him.
But now, of course, he'd have to think of a way to get him back.
_
The art that inspired the fic is here [lightly NSFW].
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