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He stood in the middle of the workshop as if nothing had changed, as if he were still the innocent being celebrimbor had once believed him to be, and yet it was so clear now that he was not. Annatar turned to look at Celebrimbor as the door opened, his fine features lit by the dazzling sun through the windows like the gods they had pretended to be. Celebrimbor strode up to him without a word.
"Tyelpe?" Annatar asked. His voice was light with idle curiosity. It could have been any morning. Annatar tilted his head to the side as Celebrimbor stopped in front of him. He did not bite, did not threaten, did not fight like Sauron should. His hair fell, loose and vulnerable, gently seductive, and the awareness of what was happening hit him with all the force of a drug, heady and dizzying. Logic seemed to pale in the face of it. He knew the threat, now. He knew the manipulations, the concerns, the mirage he had fallen for—and yet he could not set it aside as easily as he had imagined a few moments ago. Every moment that had drawn him to Annatar had been heightened where it should have been cursed by this.
Sauron was letting himself be idle for him. He was so determined to get something from him that he would hide his claws and dull his teeth, see through the coldest irons of Celebrimbor's own lies to connect with him, choose to be ordered around for him.
It was all for him.
He kissed him with the force of an Oath. His hand came up to cup the back of Annatar's head, loose silken strands of glimmering gold like the finest threads falling through his hands as he pressed the Maia backwards. Annatar let out a little sound of surprise in his throat but responded eagerly, letting himself be guided down in what would have been an awkward angle for anyone more embodied.
They bumped into the workshop table behind him in a jangle of legs. Annatar shifted his weight back to be resting on the edge even as his arms wrapped around Celebrimbor, one arm landing on his waist. The other went around the back of his neck. His thumb stroked along the jugular under his ear and Celebrimbor shivered. The gentle threat of Sauron the Abhorred holding his throat, thinking he was unaware, sunk through him and he caught the Maia's lower lip between his teeth, running his canines side to side until he thought he might draw blood.
Annatar moaned. He pulled Celebrimbor closer, arm a tight band of steel around his back. He wouldn't be able to move far without Sauron allowing it, he realized with a frisson of arousal. The danger was his.
He pressed his tongue to the crease of Annatar's lips and he opened his mouth instantly, soft and warm and welcoming. The contrast between him and his reactions should have been repulsive. It should have made him recoil away. Celebrimbor dipped his other hand under the shoulder of Annatar's robe, seeking out the over-hot skin of his chest. Annatar inhaled sharply.
The Maia let his hand drift up Celebrimbor's ear, stroking up the sensitive tip, and Celebrimbor shuddered again. He broke their kiss to press his face into the Maia's shoulder as he pressed his chest tighter. Annatar laughed lightly, the sound rumbling through his chest despite the many ways he could have chosen to prevent it.
Realistic. For him.
"Eager, Tyelpe?" he asked, amusement lacing his every word, but Celebrimbor barely cared under the heady rush of arousal and control. He knew more than Annatar for once. And yet the Maia was still so willing to pretend to be more embodied than he was, even though Celebrimbor had never truly cared. He wanted to do it for him. Commitment, whether to deception or love, was commitment to him all the same. Annatar could have chosen anyone, any method, any level of casual companionship. He chose to go beyond what Celebrimbor had ever indicated or desired just to seduce him. What could be better proof that this were real?
"Mm," he mumbled into Annatar's shoulder. The warmth was distracting, heat rushing through his abdomen at the soft, unmarked skin. He wanted to mark it like Annatar was marking up his own life, carve his imprint until neither of them could escape the consequences. "I suffered too much politics this afternoon. Arguing. It felt like repeating something I've lived before."
Because it was. He had, as had Artanis, witnesses to a greater fight between greater beings, quiet children below the attention of Kings and Ainur, worth catching in the crossfire but not yet players themselves in the fate of the Noldor.
Annatar laughed again. He could catch the slant to it now, as if there was a private joke he was missing. He wasn't, he thought with a thrill the reminder of Tirion did not deserve, and turned to suck a kiss on Annatar's neck. Annatar was. The Maia tilted his head back to give him more access with a little hum of pleasure. His throat shifted up and down under Celebrimbor's teeth as he spoke.
"Ah—disagreeing with your cousin's tactical choices again? I hate to see how it is dragging on you, though—" he shifted back slightly more, eyes drifting lazily in the corner of Celebrimbor's vision, holding him tighter to his chest—"this is a positive."
Celebrimbor hummed. He shifted his feet closer, Annatar's legs spread around him now, and let go off his neck to see the blooming red mark. Annatar allowed it. He welcomed him marking up his fana even though he could have refused. He could have simply removed the marks after sex if he wanted to, and yet Celebrimbor could still see the faint yellow tint from an old one lower down, half-covered by his robes.
"Unpleasant," he murmured into Annatar's neck, catching the Maia's earlobe in his teeth and pulling on it. Annatar exhaled. He dug his hand under Celebrimbor's braids and Celebrimbor let go of the ear in favor of pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. "Answering as if a subordinate when we started this together—"
The Maia thought he would win, he registered again at Annatar's murmur of sympathy to his false complaint, and had to hide his own triumph in another scatter of kisses down the arc of his neck. He was so certain. Annatar tilted his head further back to allow him access and Celebrimbor ran his tongue along the underside of his jaw, then sucked on it sharply. Annatar's answering moan joined the fire in his blood and he bit down, mind racing beyond himself as his confidence soared.
He could keep track of him. Sauron was not so great as to be untouchable. He had already noticed the wedge he tried to drive between himself and Artanis, the falsities etched throughout his seduction laid out before him as if clear as day. More could not be hard now that he knew.
The blood vessels burst like mortal flesh under his teeth. Celebrimbor pulled away as Annatar's hand twisted deeper into his braids, the pain a pleasant drag, and smiled at the red spots that flecked his flesh. For him.
Nothing had to change.