Title & Chapter Number: Fireflies 10/23
Author(s): - Author's Index
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Oh, if wishes were rainbows… but they're not mine, never will be.
Warnings: Violence, mature themes, non-consensual elements, sexual content.
Betas: None
Cast: Haldir, Orophin, Rúmil, Celeborn, and Galadriel
Timeline: TA AU
Spoilers: Nope
Summary: A band of hunters passes too close to the Golden Wood attracting unwanted attention while ensnaring something completely unintended.
Notes:
Fell Beasts
Brilliant, vivid color exploded in his mind’s eye, the beauty of which would have rivaled the stars if not for the pain. He fought to remain conscious, not yet ready to embrace oblivion, but an oppressive weight descending upon his chest made it difficult to breathe, aiding the oncoming darkness.
Callin pressed all his weight onto the other’s chest. He sat in that position for several minutes, watching the elf gasp frantically to take in air. Not wanting the elf to black out on him, he slithered downward, completely covering his prey.
During his time with the elf, Callin had come to learn something new about himself; nothing brought him to point faster than causing this creature pain. He began rocking his hips against the wilting body beneath him, and leaning down close to the elf's ear, he whispered, "Hmm, so it does have a name.”
Callin captured the delicate ear in his mouth, sucking in the soft, velvety lobe, flicking it with his tongue, and he marveled again at the silken texture of the elf's skin. He nipped the tender piece of flesh between his teeth and moaned loudly at the elf's gasp of protest. His tongue stopped its teasing of the injured lobe to snake out and lap at the blood welling out around the wound.
"So, so sweet.”
Rúmil felt the man's hardening groin press painfully against his hip, and panicking, began to struggle anew, his actions unintentionally stoking the man's lust. Callin’s breathing grew ragged, and grunting loudly, he began surging forward, pressing the supine body beneath him into the earth.
Rúmil's eyes grew wide and incredulous as he was crushed into the forest floor. This Adan, this member of the race of Men, and Arda’s supposed hope for future, was rutting up against him like some fell beast of Mordor; he felt himself sicken.
He numbly detached himself from what was happening, focusing instead on the shadowy canopy above. He began to count the leaves on the trees and mentally cataloguing the various types of plants that surrounded him.
His gaze drifted, finally settling on the little lights moving amongst the trees, his new companions since his lurid nightmare began. He hadn’t seen them since that first night and felt glad that they were still with him. He watched in a bemused daze as they weaved and fluttered through the branches high above, the lights of their bodies leaving swirling golden trails in their wake. But not even they could help him for long this night.
Rúmil squeezed his eyes shut when a particularly brutal thrust sent a wave of pain spiking through his body. Would the adan be satisfied after this? Or was this just a precursor of the depraved realities to come? He wondered idly if it was possible to depart before the deed was done, if Mandos would spare him the pain and the grief, and allow him entrance into his mighty halls untainted. And once he had arrived, would he be allowed to roam amongst those who had died in battle or had sacrificed for others? Or would he be held apart, left to those few who had suffered a similar fate.
Callin biting down viciously into the bruised, swollen flesh of his shoulder brought Rúmil back from his musings, and he bit his lip harshly to keep from crying out.
Collapsing onto the elf, Callin nuzzled into the willowy neck, shuddering in the aftermath of his release. He drew his finger lazily over soft cheeks and lips to smear the tip through the blood dibbling down the elf’s chin. Bringing his finger to his mouth, he licked it clean.
"That was nice."
Receiving no response, not even a whimper, Callin sat up abruptly, straddling the elf's hips. He looked deeply into the oddly vacant eyes as he reached down and began to push Rúmil's tunic up with widespread fingers.
"Did you not think it was nice, Rúmil?" he asked mockingly.
His chest bare to the cool, night air, Rúmil shivered involuntarily, and Callin grinned as his fingertips brushed across the tiny bumps rapidly spreading over the elf's skin.
"You are so beautiful, despite the bruises on your tender flesh."
Callin circled the rosy disks on the elf's chest with his thumbs and then leaned down to tease the little nubs with the tip of his tongue. Rising again, he said, "No one has ever excited me the way that you do, Rúmil, no one."
Callin raked his fingers downward abruptly, leaving deep gouges across the elf's chest and abdomen, and unprepared for the pain, Rúmil could not help but cry out this time. Callin groaned huskily, the heat of lust beginning to pool in his groin once more, and hissed, “Gods, what you do to me.”
With a lascivious snarl, Callin dove down and began licking and sucking at the bloody streaks marring Rúmil’s body. He delved deeply into his naval, lapping at the blood that pooled within, his tongue plunging repeatedly into the little hollow, mimicking the movement of his hips. Slowly, he began to make his way back up the warrior’s body to give the smooth column of Rúmil’s neck a long, languid swipe of his tongue.
"Forgive me, Rúmil,” he said breathlessly, “I have been thoughtless, giving no heed to your pleasure," and bucking his hips forward once more, Callin hoarsely whispered, “No wonder you do not want to stay with me, and I would please you as you have done so for me.”
Callin lifted himself off the guardian to flip him roughly onto his stomach. Smiling like a child who had been given an extra desert, he settled himself onto the backs of the elf’s legs and began to slide his hands up between his thighs and over his buttocks to wrap his fingers around the top of the elf’s leggings.
Head to the side, Rúmil stared blankly, no longer hearing nor feeling anything the man said or did. He felt he was ready now. He could feel his spirit pulling free, soon to take flight, and his body would become just a shell, no longer his but an empty vessel that would feel no more.
A brief smile passed over Rúmil’s face, and then, ever so quietly, he began to sing, not too loud but softly, to himself. It was a song the Lady had sung to him after his parents had departed, a child’s song, a song he sang whenever his heart was heavy.
Callin’s head snapped up, looking for the source of this unfamiliar noise. Eyes narrowing, he looked down at the creature on the ground beneath him. This was *not* the sound that Callin wanted to hear coming from his elf.
"Shut up.”
Callin grabbed a thick handful of Rúmil’s long hair and yanked his head back sharply then released it to fall with a thump against the ground. This quieted the elf somewhat, but he did not stop singing completely.
"Shut up!”
About to deliver another blow, Callin's attention was riveted by another sound, a moan, coming from behind him, and he turned to glare at the slightly shifting form of his brother.
“Now look what you’ve done. Your elvish racket has disturbed my brother’s rest!”
Standing up, he grabbed the now silent elf, and threw the much lighter being over his shoulder.
"Rúmil, my love, there is something I want to show you.”
~*~*~*~
Adan = Man
Mandos = Vala of the Elven dead~*~*~*~
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