For the next few days after Finarfin had whipped him and made him say he didn't deserve more punishment, it was as if a raging storm inside Maglor had been calmed, and he felt content if not entirely peaceful. His equilibrium seemed to be returned and life was once again getting back to normal after Nerdanel's disruption.
But then, as he was listening to the twins practice their harp, once they took a break Elros asked, "Was that lady at the market your mother?"
Elrond added, "You called her Mother."
Maglor swallowed hard. He didn't want to have this conversation with them now or ever. He couldn't fault them for their observance, or their curiosity, so he didn't want to make them feel he was upset with them for asking.
"Yes," Maglor said honestly. "That was my mother."
Elrond's mouth opened and then he looked off to the side, as if he seemed to sense it was a fraught subject. Elros, however, pressed in. "You don't visit her?"
"No," Maglor said. "I don't." He sighed deeply. "She was... unkind to my father, and me and my brothers."
"She was mean?" Elros frowned.
Maglor nodded solemnly.
Elros and Elrond got up and came over to give him a big hug. Maglor accepted the hug, his arms around them, and he affectionately tousled their hair.
"You're not mean to us," Elrond said.
"My father and I were very close." Maglor knew he had been Fëanor's favorite, as much as Fëanor had tried not to play favorites - indeed, Fëanor had a lot of love to go around, his sons were his pride and joy. Maglor felt that tight ache in his chest, the grief of missing Fëanor adding a sharper sting to Nerdanel's scornful rejection. "I learned how to be a father from him."
And then Elrond said, "I love you, Atar."
"Me too," Elros said, and hugged Maglor tighter.
Maglor's eyes misted. In the nearly six years since he and Maedhros had taken in the twins to atone for their crimes, there had been fondness, affection - but this was the first time that either of them had actually said aloud that they loved him. The ache intensified, a fierce love for the two boys that he thought of as his own, sons of his heart if not his blood. "I love you both," Maglor said, his voice shaking. "You're good boys, and I'm proud to call you my sons."
Elros smiled. "Hello Proud To Call You My Sons, I'm Elros."
Maglor facepalmed and howled with laughter - they'd learned that from him, and he'd learned that from Fëanor. And a frisson went through him, a tingling warmth as if even beyond the grave, a beam of Fëanor's light was there with them, watching. Approving.
The boys went off to practice their sword-fighting with Maedhros, and Maglor sat there, the weight of everything on his shoulders, then enveloping him, consuming him, barely breathing. The grief of losing Fëanor. The rage of living with Nerdanel's sharp tongue. The shame and guilt of what he'd done, intensified by Nerdanel recently blaming him for the death of his five younger brothers. He felt like he didn't deserve the purity of the boys' love, like they should repay his kindness with hatred...
The pain surged through him, looping over and over again. He tried to fight it, thinking of Finarfin calling him a good boy, Finarfin giving him a second chance at life. Thinking of how well Elros and Elrond had been turning out, despite the trauma of their early years, he and Maedhros had been doing their best.
But it was too much. Maglor buried his face in his hands, trying not to cry, trying not to break, hearing Nerdanel's voice in his head. You're a crybaby just like your father. Pathetic.
Then, If it weren't for you.
That urge to make himself hurt, make himself bleed, to make it stop, came over him again. Maglor took some deep breaths and reminded himself of the promise he made Finarfin, that if he felt this way once more, he would go to Finarfin rather than injuring himself. He looked outside at the blue sky - it still felt so strange to see the sky blue instead of gold, in daytime. Usually he and Finarfin carried on after the evening meal, it was more discrete that way, fewer servants on duty, fewer people to notice.
He tried to wait. Tried to see if the urge would go away on its own, but as time went on, even as he tried to distract himself with the harp, the thoughts replayed over and over again, the urge did not fade, until he could not play at all, could only sit in a corner of the room with his head in his arms, his arms on his knees, rocking, seething. The thought of being at the dinner table in proximity to a knife was too tempting. He got up and went to Finarfin's study.
Finarfin was alone, and looked up when Maglor came in. Maglor closed the door behind him and walked slowly, hesitantly to Finarfin's desk - even though he knew Finarfin had told him to come to him if he felt this way, his steps were still leaden, feeling shameful for these urges, feeling weak, not wanting Finarfin to see how weak he was.
Maglor opened his mouth and no words came out. Tears welled in his eyes, threatening to spill.
Finarfin stood up. He went right over to Maglor and took Maglor in his arms. "It's happening again, isn't it?" He stroked Maglor's cheek. "You're thinking about hurting -"
"Yes." And with that, Maglor wept on Finarfin's shoulder, finally giving into the tears, even as his face burned with hot shame for crying like this.
Finarfin pet Maglor's hair, rocked him. "I know," Finarfin said softly. "I know. You were good for telling me."
"I'm sorry -"
"Don't apologize." Finarfin squeezed him and resumed rocking him, petting him. "I'm going to make it better, my love, I promise."
Finarfin informed the staff that Maglor was unwell and he would be seeing to him and no, a healer was not required, and they would be taking the meal in Finarfin's bedchamber. To his relief, the staff didn't give any suspicious looks or they were very, very good at masking it.
Finarfin just held him and let him cry until the food arrived. Once the food was brought in and the servants dismissed, Finarfin carefully moved the knives out of Maglor's reach. He cut the food up himself and fed Maglor a forkful at a time... and from his fingers. While Maglor was at first embarrassed to be treated like a child who couldn't be trusted with sharp objects - though he understood why - there was something comforting about Finarfin feeding him this way, and when he ate from Finarfin's hand like a pet, it turned sensual. Maglor licked and sucked Finarfin's fingers, and smiled as he watched Finarfin's cock tent his breeches.
After the staff came back to retrieve the used dishes and cutlery, and Finarfin and Maglor were finally alone for the night, they undressed each other, kissing feverishly, and Finarfin led Maglor to the bath. They took a hot bath together, kissing, stroking each other's cocks, and Maglor let his troubles melt away into the heat and bubbles and his uncle's sensual touch.
When they were ready, Finarfin pulled Maglor up from the bath. As they dried off, they continued kissing, caressing each other, hard cocks rubbing together.
Then Finarfin grabbed Maglor by a fistful of damp hair and marched him over to the bed. Finarfin sat down and pulled Maglor over his knee. Maglor moaned, his cock throbbing with anticipation, knowing what was about to happen next.
"You had urges to hurt yourself today," Finarfin said - a statement, not a question.
"Yes, hántar."
"To punish yourself."
Maglor swallowed hard. "Yes, hántar."
"Only I get to do that." Finarfin smacked Maglor's left ass cheek.
Maglor cried out, his cock pulsing again. This was exactly what he needed... what he wanted. What he craved. And Finarfin knew it.
"Who do you belong to?" Finarfin asked, rubbing where he'd just slapped.
"You," Maglor breathed.
"Say it."
"I belong to you, hántar."
"That's right. You're mine. That means your body is mine. You're not allowed to hurt what's mine." Finarfin slapped Maglor's right ass cheek, and Maglor moaned again, hole twitching. He wanted to be taken, ravaged, fucked. But he knew Finarfin was going to take his time getting there.
"Every time you think about hurting yourself, you devalue our bond." Finarfin spanked Maglor's left ass cheek. "And hurting yourself because of what she said to you... my opinion should be more important than hers." Finarfin spanked Maglor's right ass cheek. "You're going to get it through that thick, stubborn skull of yours - just like your father's - that you are precious to me, and to dishonor yourself is to dishonor me, and what I see in you." Finarfin's hand cracked across both ass cheeks, and Maglor whimpered.
Finarfin spanked one ass cheek, then the other, then he slapped both of them at once again. Maglor seethed through clenched teeth as the stinging pain radiated through his entire body, waves of heat and chills. He yelled as Finarfin slapped his ass over and over, pain surging, pulsating, rising and falling... taking him deeper into surrender, where pain became pleasure, where being under his uncle's control like this was delicious, and made him mindless with lust.
"This is all that exists," Finarfin said, smacking Maglor's left ass cheek, then his right. "This is all that matters. You're mine. What she thinks of you, what she's said to you, is irrelevant. You are a good boy. You're my boy."
Maglor was almost sobbing, as Finarfin continued to strike his ass, sharpening the sting with each blow, pain burning into passion. Maglor rubbed his cock against Finarfin's thigh and knee like an animal in heat, teasing himself, desperate to get fucked. "Please," he begged. "Please..."
"Please, what?"
"Fuck me. Be inside me." Maglor looked up, and met Finarfin's eyes. "Be one with me."
Finarfin smirked. "Oh, do you think you deserve my cock? You think you deserve pleasure instead of more pain?"
Maglor realized what Finarfin was doing. He whined and rubbed himself more insistently.
Finarfin slapped Maglor's ass harder than ever, and again, making Maglor scream. "Do you?"
"Please..." Maglor's voice shook. His entire body was quivering now, his balls agonizingly tight. He felt like he was going to die if he didn't come soon.
"Say it. Tell me that you don't deserve more punishment." Finarfin smacked Maglor's ass again, hard. "Tell me to stop."
Another slap, and another, and another. Maglor could barely string two thoughts together that didn't involve Finarfin pounding his ass, let alone make words, but as Finarfin kept spanking him and spanking him, Maglor finally pushed through the submissive haze and blurted out, "I don't deserve more punishment. I don't deserve more pain. Please, stop. Please, take care of me."
"Louder. Like you mean it." Finarfin smacked Maglor's ass again.
"I don't deserve more punishment. Stop."
Finarfin stopped spanking him, but didn't give in to the request for pleasure just yet. "You think you deserve my cock? You think you deserve to come?"
"Yes, hántya, please."
"Only good boys get to come." Finarfin began rubbing Maglor's sore ass, and the tender caresses almost undid Maglor right then. "Are you a good boy, Kanafinwë?"
"Yes."
"Say it."
Maglor's eyes brimmed with tears, his heart aching with fierce love for the man who was trying so hard to help him, to light that dark place inside him. "I'm a good boy." Their eyes met again. "I'm your good boy, hántya."
Finarfin tousled Maglor's hair, then he reached for the salve... and the oil. He spent awhile rubbing salve over Maglor's sore ass, while Maglor continued grinding against him, panting for it, his entire body tingling from Finarfin's sensual hands. He moaned when he felt oil spill into the crack of his ass, dripping down into his hole.
And yet, Finarfin still wasn't about to give in right away. Maglor lay on the bed, pre-spend flowing down his cock, as Finarfin retrieved rope from his closet. When Finarfin came back, he gave Maglor a deep, hungry kiss... and then he got to work, making beautiful knots around Maglor's shoulders, chest, and stomach... even a knot like a ring around the base of Maglor's shaft, making him even harder, more engorged. Then Finarfin wound ropes through the knots in the harness to tie Maglor's wrists to the bedposts. Once Maglor was securely tied - bound and helpless, not able to go anywhere - Finarfin kissed him again.
"Does my good boy deserve pleasure?" Finarfin husked.
Maglor nodded. "Yes, hántya."
"Say it."
Maglor looked into Finarfin's eyes, once more feeling that fierce ache of love, of worship. A frisson went through him at the length Finarfin was willing to go to keep him from plunging down the spiral of self-hatred and madness. "I'm a good boy who deserves your touch, for you to please me."
Finarfin kissed him, then they shared an open-mouthed kiss, tongues licking, teasing. Finarfin sucked on Maglor's tongue like it was a cock, a promise of what he could do, and Maglor shuddered, cock pulsing. His fists clenched with want.
Finarfin began to kiss and lick down Maglor's neck, so sensitive. Maglor moaned and closed his eyes, melting into the sensation. When he opened his eyes he saw Finarfin had his dagger in hand - and the tip of the dagger went to Maglor's throat, just enough to pinch, not yet breaking flesh. Finarfin licked down Maglor's throat, and back up, to where the blade rested.
"That's right," Finarfin purred. "Only I get to hurt you, Kanafinwë. And I only do that for our mutual enjoyment." With that, Finarfin made a small cut, drawing blood. Maglor felt the blood trickle down his throat... chased by Finarfin's tongue. Then Finarfin's tongue was on his again, licking, sharing the metallic taste with him. Maglor cried out, cock leaping, hole twitching.
"Take me," Maglor begged, ready to explode.
Finarfin grinned, sucked on Maglor's lower lip, bit it, and then he resumed kissing and licking Maglor's neck. The tip of the knife dragged down from Maglor's throat, down to Maglor's heart. Finarfin planted a gentle kiss just above the blade, then he lapped one nipple, then the other. Suckled one, then the other. Nibbled and licked and suckled at one as the knife traced circles around and around the other.
"I could cut these pretty nipples right off," Finarfin whispered, "and there would be nothing you could do about it, all tied up like this." The knife's tip pressed into Maglor's left nipple, like a bite. Then Finarfin pulled the knife back and tugged the nipple with his teeth before sucking hard. Maglor cried out and bucked, almost coming.
"You know I won't do that," Finarfin went on, knife poking the right nipple before his teeth yanked, lips soothed and teased. "Because you're a good boy." Finarfin's thumb rolled and rubbed the sensitive, aching bud, and he smiled before kissing the nipple, licking it. The knife circle around the nipple again, followed by his tongue. Maglor whimpered, more pre-spend flowing down his shaft. "You have such lovely nipples. I could make love to them for hours." Finarfin suckled with a murmur of pleasure and Maglor grunted.
"Please," Maglor choked out.
"I think tomorrow, we're getting these nipples pierced, so you can have a more tangible sign of my ownership." Finarfin put the knife down for just a moment and pulled on both of Maglor's nipples, pinched them, rubbed them. Maglor cried out - he loved that idea, and he loved what Finarfin was doing to him now. The thought of Finarfin doing that once his nipples were pierced... more sensitive...
"Fuck me..." Maglor bit his lip.
"You deserve pleasure, do you not? That's what I'm doing, my boy." Finarfin leaned in and resumed circling one nipple with the knife, dragging the blade up and down the sensitive peak, as his mouth hungrily sucked on the other.
Then the blade was at Maglor's heart again, Finarfin's other hand stroking Maglor's cheek. "Pleasure... and safety." Their eyes met. "You trust me."
"Yes." Maglor's breath hitched and his cock pulsed - just the act of admitting that trust was white-hot, going even deeper into surrender.
"You're a good boy." The knife scratched and another trickle of blood flowed out. Finarfin watched it drip down Maglor's chest and then he licked it up, and kissed Maglor with the blood on his tongue. Both men moaned into the kiss.
The knife slid lower, the tip of the blade biting into Maglor's flesh but not cutting - the knife dragged along Maglor's stomach, chased by Finarfin's tongue. Then there was a cut here, a cut there, and Finarfin lapping the little trail of blood. The knife scratched up and down Maglor's thigh, a thin line of blood, and Finarfin kissed and licked. Then the other thigh.
Maglor gasped for breath, losing himself in the sweet sting of the knife, the teasing of Finarfin's tongue... that feeling of trust, putting his life in his lover's hands like this.
The knife was at the head of his cock, the tip at the slit. Maglor cried out as Finarfin kept the knife there while he licked up and down the shaft, sucked on the balls. The knife traced over the veins in Maglor's cock, followed by Finarfin's tongue, and then the knife circled around the rim of his opening, not cutting, just pressing in, and then Finarfin was licking him there, too, and Maglor screamed and sobbed with pleasure.
After a few long moments that felt like an eternity, of Finarfin's tongue at his passage, Finarfin was licking at Maglor's cock again, then sucked it slowly as the knife dragged over the balls. Their eyes locked and the heat in Finarfin's eyes almost made Maglor come.
At last, with pre-spend on his tongue, Finarfin kissed him deeply and reached once more for the oil. Maglor watched, desperate and aching to come, panting for it, as Finarfin poured oil over his cock and stroked it in.
"I hope you've learned your lesson." Finarfin stroked his cock harder, faster. "Maybe you haven't. Maybe you'll want to hurt yourself again, after we're through... maybe I shouldn't give you this cock..."
"Please." Maglor's hole twitched, and Finarfin watched it and licked his lips.
"Do you deserve this cock? Are you a good boy?"
"Yes, hántya, please, I'm a good boy, I deserve my hántya's cock..." Just saying that was so lewd, so filthy. Maglor's hole twitched again and his cock jolted, and Finarfin chuckled. "Please. Please fuck me, please, I'm a good boy, please..."
Finarfin hooked Maglor's right leg over his hip, and Maglor gasped as he felt the tip of Finarfin's cock at his opening. Finarfin kissed him deeply as he pushed inside... with the knife at Maglor's throat again.
Finarfin fucked him slowly. Ever so slowly, keeping the knife at Maglor's throat, kissing and licking Maglor's neck. Just the feel of Finarfin's breath on his neck drove Maglor mad with sensation and lust.
"Do you like that?" Finarfin nibbled Maglor's neck.
"Yes, hántya."
Finarfin stopped thrusting, resting inside him, and Maglor let out a whimper of protest. "Ask for what you want," Finarfin said. "Ask for what you need."
"More," Maglor begged. "More, fuck me..."
Finarfin resumed thrusting... still going slowly, teasing them both. Kissing Maglor's neck and shoulder, the knife sliding up and down Maglor's throat. Every now and again Finarfin stopped and Maglor had to beg again. "More, please, hántya, more..."
"That's a good boy," Finarfin rasped, and nibbled the sweet hollow where neck and shoulder met, making Maglor cry out.
Finarfin kept teasing him, a dozen slow thrusts and then he stopped, Maglor crying out for more, Finarfin thrusting again. Soon they were both trembling, breath coming out in shuddery gasps, and Finarfin rocked into him faster. Finarfin kept one hand on the knife at Maglor's throat and he took Maglor's cock in his other hand, gripping tight, stroking hard.
"Yes, hántya, yes, more, please, more..." Maglor rolled his hips back at his uncle, urging him on harder, faster.
When Finarfin's balls were smacking against him, the bed creaking, the pleasure on his cock and on that spot inside him built to the point of no return. Maglor grit his teeth and grunted.
Finarfin kissed him open-mouthed, tongues lashing, fluttering, and Finarfin's thumb rubbed the frenulum as his hand gripped Maglor's cock even tighter. "You're going to come, aren't you?"
Maglor nodded. "Please, let me come..."
"Are you a good boy who deserves to come?"
"Yes, hántya, yes..."
"Then come for me. Show me you're mine."
Maglor came with a hoarse shout, spilling over Finarfin's hand then splashing both their stomachs. A half-dozen savage thrusts later, Finarfin growled and bit Maglor's neck as he climaxed, and Maglor cried out again as he felt Finarfin's seed inside him. Finarfin let out a shuddery sigh as his eyes rolled back and then widened, his face lighting up with joy. He was so beautiful when he came, and it brought tears to Maglor's eyes, as his own relief and euphoria rang through him like bells... like exploding stars.
"I love you," Maglor said.
"I love you." Finarfin kissed him, and pulled the knife back. He cut the ropes from Maglor's wrists, and Maglor wrapped his arms around Finarfin and gave him a tight squeeze.
"Thank you." Maglor rained kisses over Finarfin's face, tears streaming down his own cheeks, feeling shattered and shaken to his core... like he had been reborn in the fire of their passion. "Thank you, thank you, thank you..."
"Thank you." Finarfin kissed Maglor's tears. "You're a good boy." Finarfin's own eyes were too bright. He took Maglor's hands and squeezed them. "Thank you for not hurting yourself today."
"It is more fun if you hurt me," Maglor admitted with a grin.
"Indeed." Finarfin grinned back.
Then Maglor looked down at his own nipples, and back up at Finarfin. "You meant what you said? We're going to... get these pierced?"
"Yes."
The next afternoon, it was done. Finarfin picked out silver rings, each set with a single small diamond. They were tasteful and elegant, and yet even so...
Maglor looked down at his swollen, newly pierced nipples - they would need time to heal up before Finarfin played with them again - and he laughed, not able to believe what had just transpired. "If my father could see me now. For once, this would be jewelry he wouldn't approve of."
Finarfin smirked, raised an eyebrow, and shook his head. "Who do you think invented nipple piercings?"
Maglor's mouth opened, not able to believe what he'd just heard. "What."
"Your father had his nipples pierced."
Maglor felt like his brain was breaking. He tried to picture Fëanor shirtless, with nipple rings just like these - the thought was uncomfortably appealing, making his cheeks burn as he pushed the mental image away as quickly as he could, not wanting to find his father arousing - and then the mental image came back to him, this time with Finarfin seeing them, but... "How did you know that?" It was one thing to discover Fëanor and Finarfin had never been enemies, it was another to know something so... intimate.
Finarfin said nothing, and looked away. He handed Maglor his tunic. "Let's see if we can get the cooks to give you a snack, some nourishment after your little ordeal."
Maglor put his hands on his hips - he noticed Finarfin was evading that question, and he wondered why... but he also knew Finarfin was still grieving Fëanor and it was a sore subject, so he let it go.
For now.
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