(no subject)

[nerdanel_the_wise]

[OOC: This piece is being used, but it is part of Path Not Taken. As Mary Anne absorbs the power of the tarot in small ways, she sees the paths, can see the various outcomes. This is NOT Millicanon. It is a VISION, and ONLY a VISION. It is a WHAT IF only thing. Nothing more. Námo and Nerdanel IC have no knowledge of these events. They weren't there for them, technically.]


The library is large, bright, full of windows and books. There are comfortable, worn chairs and sofas scattered around the room, and half-finished books left on the tables.

Nerdanel closes the door, taking Gabriel from Mary Anne, and looks beyond her to the tall, gangly youth that looked very much like her.

"Nelyo, please take Gabriel outside? Play with him?"

Maedhros smiles, accepting his brother into his arms, and after casting an interested look at the human, slips from the room while Gabriel yammers at him about the Bar.

Nerdanel sighs, leaning against a nearby table, and looks at Mary Anne. "Welcome to my home."

Comments

[namo]

He gasps into her mouth.

It was strange to have such an active partner, someone who didn't dance a slow, gentle dance of lovemaking. It was addictive.

Námo moves them toward the bed, briefly wondering if Nerdanel knew what was happening... if she could have remotely thought this would be the result of her seeking Mary Anne.

[song_tra_bong]

She smiles against his mouth, pleased at the result. The backs of her knees connect with the bed and she lets herself fall back, tugging him down after.

Mary Anne just hopes that his bedroom isn't above the library.

[namo]

Not quite.

More like above the dining room.

He moves to her neck (never much cared for me touching his neck--), biting at her throat, sucking harshly at her skin.

[song_tra_bong]

She gasps, the sound quickly trailing lower in her throat.

She rakes her fingers through his hair, nails brushing scalp and the tips of his ears, before her hands settle on his shoulders.

[namo]

When her fingers touch the tips of his ears he cries out, shuddering against her almost violently. If he had not been fully aroused before, he was now. Námo pants against her throat, trying to regain his focus, make the pooling heat in his groin recede some.

[song_tra_bong]

His reaction does not go unnoticed.

"Whatever was that all about, hm?"

She runs one hand back through his hair and recieves none of the same response.

"What about this?" she murmurs, breath warm on his ear, lips hovering just above the skin.

[namo]

His body becomes rigid, breath held.

"You... do not... want to do that..." he slowly says, voice thick as his arms tremble some.

[song_tra_bong]

She smiles, pulling back slightly.

"Why not? It'd end the game too early?"

And yet she wants to see him unravel regardless. It would be so very easy like this.

[namo]

His eyes slowly open part way, looking at her.

"The game is never over until I want it to be," he growls softly, pushing against her.

[song_tra_bong]

She laughs, low and dark.

"If you say so, beautiful."

She lunges forward, tracing the curve of his ear with her tongue. "If you say so."

[namo]

In their trysts, Gorlim had touched his ears. Stroked them, blown against them, but never had he done that. Never had he used his mouth in such a way on that sensitive skin, and so Námo had no idea the impact it would have when Mary Anne now does it.

He actually gives a sharp, short-lived shout, his vision swimming as desire shoots instantly and sharply to his cock. The Vala turns his head, crushing his mouth to hers, tugging at her shirt with careless fingers.

[song_tra_bong]

She wonders for a moment if he's split her lip, wonders what blood would be like from his mouth--but the skin is unbroken.

She arches up against him, helping him pull her shirt over her head.

"Gonna make you scream, beautiful. Watch you fall apart." She punctuates the sentence with a twist of her hips against his.

[namo]

He groans, tossing her shirt aside.

Then he pauses, looking at her bra.

"What," he pants, "is that?"

[song_tra_bong]

She can't help it. She laughs.

"It's called a bra, darling. Can't imagine you've seen many of these."

She slips a hand behind her back, undoing the clasp with a twist of her fingers, then slides the bra off her arms and onto the floor.

"Better?"

Now all she's wearing from the waist up is her necklace, her scar and a smile.

[namo]

He looks down at chest.

Much... much different than he was used to.

"No. Neither have I seen many of... these..." he adds, his large hand coming to cup her breast curiously.

[song_tra_bong]

She hums at the touch.

"Didn't think so."

She stretches, one foot trailing up the back of his calf. "Ignore them or pay attention to them as you like."

[namo]

His thumb moves over her nipple, eyes locked on the movement. Then he bends his head, brushing lips where his fingers had touched. He draws her nipple into his mouth, teasing and testing with teeth and tongue.

It was strange.

All of it was strange and wrong but--

(--but he is not here and she is and I need and want and hurt so much--)

--but he continues, tasting and touching and learning.

[song_tra_bong]

"Mmm, quick study, you are."

She runs her hands back through his hair, studiously ignoring the tips of his ears. For now.

[namo]

His hair is long. Something of a conceit for him, and something Gorlim had always loved. Always praised. Hair that pools beside her on the bed, midnight silk reaching below his waist.

He nuzzles and suckles at one breast before moving to the other, trailing his lips between them along that satin-soft skin lying so close to bone.

[song_tra_bong]

She sighs, breath quickening slightly.

"Beautiful."

She frames his face in her hands, lifting his head to kiss him properly before letting go.

[namo]

He shivers, his hands mapping her upper body as they kiss. When she releases his face, he abandons her breasts to brush his lips down her stomach. His tongue teases her navel, teeth nipping the flesh around it before soothing it with his tongue again.

[song_tra_bong]

Her stomach shudders, breath catching in her throat.
ma il mio mistero è chiuso in me
One hand rests on his hair while the other curls in the sheets.
sulla tua bocca lo dirò

[namo]

A part of him recoils violently from what he does now. He was now the triator -- so much more than Gorlim ever could have been. But he silences and ignores that part of himself, shoving it deep into the recesses of his mind as his fingers work on her jeans.
run, desire, run
a sexual being
He drags his tongue along the skin exposed as he pulls the fabric from her, tugging boots with the pants.
run him like a blade
to and through the heart, no conscience
Námo doesn't pause, wisking her panties from her next, laying her bare to him, but he doesn't let his eyes travel or linger. His body blankets hers as he kisses her again, deeply and desperately, his arms tight around her.
one motive: cater to the hollow

[song_tra_bong]

Her arms twine easily around his neck.
traitorous whore he trained you well
She holds him in the kiss until her lungs burn and she has to stop. One hand slides down his spine, to just above the waistband of his pants.
when the truth is found to be lies
and all the joy within you dies
She doesn't slip her hand inside, just traces the skin at the small of his back, adding the lightest scratch of nails now and again.
don't you want somebody to love, don't you need somebody to love
wouldn't you love somebody to love, you better find somebody to love

[namo]

His mouth moves again to her neck as he presses himself against her. It was nothing like when laying with Nerdanel -- no need to force arousal and need. His body burned, just as it had a few nights ago when he took Ruin--
screaming feed me here
fill me up again
temporarily pacify this hunger that's so cruel
--to his bed. In the back of his mind, the irony is not lost on him that the one he wanted was worlds away while the two he had never wanted had sought him out. Admittedly, Mary Anne hadn't come for this...
libido throw
dominoes of indiscretions down
He takes her hands in his and places them on the waistband, his eyes indigo as he looks down at her, panting.

No words.

He didn't want words. He didn't want speaking. But he wouldn't disrespect her by not looking at her. She was beautiful. She was wanton. She loved him as a friend, as family. And he loved her as a friend, as family.

Only now... now he needed... understanding... and...
falling all around in cycles, in circles
constantly consuming, conquering, devour...