Chapter Text
Sauron felt more than annoyed by the sluggishness of his servants. He had ordered them to build and repair several things over a month earlier, and yet nothing was as ready as he wanted it to be. Nor even half ready.
He was just contemplating committing another murder, which no one in his dark, unnatural domain would care about when a quiet buzzing similar to the ringing of little bells reached his ears. He raised his head and looked at the tiny ray of light that was his husband.
Finrod Felagund entered the throne room. Unlike all the beings in Sauron's domain, Finrod was an elf which meant he was, not counting Sauron himself, the only true creation of Eru in Mordor. He was tall, but slender and had fine skin similar to the honey in the shade of gold. His golden curls flowed around his figure almost to the ground, and his blue eyes looked at the orcs and other creatures with uncertainty. He walked slowly through the throne room from the door to the throne. Gold handcuffs resembling bracelets on his wrists and ankles, and also chains and earrings embracing his neck and waist clanked beautifully.
Sauron did not doubt for a moment that his husband, who was given to him as a peace-gift, would not escape or try to do anything else Sauron might condemn… but living alongside his former (fallen) master meant that he had learned to be precautious about everyone and everything in his life. He felt the need to have under full control even the beautiful elven king, who submitted willingly to his power and possessiveness. Finrod accepted everything amazingly easily. And the more obedient was Finrod, the more greedy Sauron was.
Maybe it was crazy… but elves have their peace with Mordor and monsters do not bother them anymore, right?
They do not care about Finrod more than to send letters and messengers a few times per year to be sure he is safe. And sometimes to invite him for official meetings, balls and festivals. Sauron didn’t like the second sort of correspondence, but he was not so cruel to keep his husband completely away from his kin.
“Husband,” Finrod sat on his lap. He looked cute in a thin, white tunic and leggings he had worn that day. So innocent. Always open to the world and ready to find something pretty even in the dark clouds above Mordor.
“What brought you here?” He asked, lazily brushing the golden belt around his partner’s waist. He created it as he created every smallest piece of gold which Finrod had worn. He liked the feeling that no matter who would look at his husband, they all would know to whom Finrod belonged. “You don’t like my throne room.”
It was the truth.
Elf was uncomfortable here with all the monsters around.
And yet he came.
Finrod looked at him with his shiny eyes, his pale hand embraced Sauron’s hand.
“You were busy the last few days. I barely noticed you in our chambers and bed,” he said, grimacing a bit, because Finrod loved to be watched and noticed as much as he hated to be left alone.
Sauron sighed, lifting a golden hand of his husband to his mouth. He kissed soft skin, looking into the lovely, blue eyes.
“I am sorry, my precious. I was cruel to you unintentionally.”
“Return with me to our chambers,” Finrod curled his mouth into a little, small grimace. He looked almost pleadingly. “Please.”
Sauron smiled at the hand he had just kissed.
“Good idea,” he decided. “But I have a better one.”
His eyes shone red and his aura intensified. His monsters, not as stupid as they looked, used their damn chance for survival and ran away with a loud crack of the giant door they closed behind them.
He and his precious husband were left alone in the throne room. Finrod, not unaware of his aura, was breathing heavily, shivering on his whole body. His eyes were wide open with thin pupils as he watched Sauron as much with fear as with arousal.
“Husband-”
“You know I would not hurt you too much, right, my precious?” He whispered, licking a small trace from the tip of golden finger up to the wrist. He kissed an elf’s wrist.
Finrod swallowed saliva hard with a blush reddening his cheeks.
“I know-”