ornate rug

The Hobbit: Two Outta Three [Thranduil x Reader] {18+ Explicit}

DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of fanfiction of The Hobbit/Lord of the Rings, and is not endorsed by the originator(s) of the work. All official characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement, offense, or solicitation is intended. This story has been written for entertainment value only. No profit is being made from this writing.

Author’s Notes: This was semi-inspired by the song “Two Outta Three Ain’t Bad” by Meat Loaf. Most of it is basically due to an plot bunny that got out of its cage and yelled “WRITE ME!”. Plus, I love Thranduil smut, and feel that the world should be overflowing with it. Don’t you? (Those are obvious statements, I know.) Second attempt at writing a “virgin fic”. Still not very good at it in my opinion. Also, it took me 3 days to write this, and I was half asleep during most of it. So, sorry if something doesn’t make sense. Posting from the rough draft until I am able to edit it later. I know some of you will also believe Thranduil is terribly out of character. I apologize. I just wanted to convey his more tender, and vulnerable side here.

On an unrelated topic, I am taking fanfiction requests. So, feel free to request something. ^^

As always comments, rebloggs, retweets, feedback, kudos, likes are appreciated.

Two Outta Three

By MoonofMorrigan

“I want to make this completely clear so that there will never be any misunderstandings,” Thranduil said in a soft voice but the tone he used commanded your attention, “I will never truly love you.”

The words hit harder than a mace being flung dead point at your chest. It left you a little breathless. But you knew this already, didn’t you?

“Not in the way a man who is in love with a woman should.”

He is circling you, like a tiger who has his prey cornered. The constant pacing is making you nervous. Why did you come here anyway? You knew it was probably going to end in rejection. You had already prepared for it. You felt your shoulders slump in defeat. Your head bowed and eyes met the burgundy ornate rug on the floor. You brought your arms up, and held yourself in a hug. You didn’t ask for him to be in love with you. You asked him to love you… or in other words, make love to you. It really made no difference to you if he could never truly be in love with you, as long as you could be with him. After all, you knew his heart belonged to his beloved elf queen who lay cold in her own grave. How could you dare to ask for the warmth of his embrace knowing that? You are so foolish.

You failed to notice the draft hitting your shoulders and chest when your robe slipped from your shoulders to hang at your elbows as you hugged yourself. You felt embarrassed, and with it slightly warm as a result. Your eyes briefly caught a glimpse of the empty bed in the far portion of the room. The sight heightened your feelings, causing your head and shoulders to droop lower still as you close your eyes shut to remove it from your view.

You weren’t really paying attention to exactly how he was wording what he was saying until he said his next words, “I will want you, even need you. I will not just take you into my bed once, and then never again. That you need to be aware. I know I will crave you. ” Your head shot up at that, meeting his ice-blue eyes, “But I will never love you. Can you truly live with that?”

His gaze was solidly fixed on you at this moment waiting for your answer. You opened your mouth to speak, but instead you found yourself simply nodding. His eyes narrowed momentarily, then he spent several long moments looking you over from your head to your toes. The nightgown you were wearing left little to the imagination when the light hit it. Hence, why you wrapped the sky blue robe about yourself before you came to him. His lips twitched upwards at the ends when he finished, and you became aware of your exposed chest and shoulders for the first time. Quickly, you pulled the robe back over yourself, but on a whim, since he seemed to like what he saw, didn’t cover your chest.

“Have you ever taken a lover before?” he asked taking a step towards you.

You swallow the lump in your throat, “No, my lord.” You feel the heat on your cheeks as you look away from him.

You hear him let out a soft chuckle before saying in a serious tone, “So, you’re a virgin then?”

Again, you swallow hard and after briefly biting your lip as he steps closer still to you and lays his hands on your shoulders, you quietly answer, “Yes, my lord.”

“You were involved with others before. This I know. Why did you not at least share their bed?”

You straighten your shoulders under his warm hands, and look up, “Because they were not you.”

He scoffed. “You have longed for me that long?” You knew that he already was aware of the answer to that, and was teasing you.

You resist the urge to look away in embarrassed, feeling completely exposed, “Yes. I have ever since I first had the pleasure of being in your company.”

A look that betrayed his desire, and also an uncertainty that you could truly commit to such an arrangement as he suggested crossed his features briefly. His right hand reached up at your words and he caressed your cheek tenderly. The soft touch makes a smile come to your lips. His touch was so warm and welcoming.

You decide to abandon all guarding of your feelings and just tell him as best as you are able that as long as he lets you love him, and he merely wants you, it will be enough for you, “I do not ask for you to love me. I know you cannot.” You look down briefly and up again, “I merely ask to be your comfort and warmth when the loneliness and the desire for another haunts you. I want…” you bite your lip once more. Afterwards, even as you speak, he runs his thumb over it while paying careful attention to what you’re saying, “I just want you to want me. To make love to me, even if it means nothing more to you than the momentary pleasure it brings.”

“What of your own feelings? You just wish me to ignore them even though I cannot return them?” he asked shaking his head in disbelief.

You set your jaw and let a determined expression fill every inch of you, “Yes. It will be enough for me to share your bed, and be a consolation to you if you will let me be.” And just let me love you in silence.

“What happens when my wife is reborn? What of your feelings then?”

“Then I will leave. I will go to Lothlorien, and make my peace with it.”

You had already thought all of this out over the course of the last few weeks. You had wanted to wait until the Autumn Feast that the king held, but tonight, when you were staring into the flames of the fire in your chambers, watching the embers flicker and some of the wood turning to ash below it, you felt something inside. Something more than longing, loneliness and want. You felt an intuitive need to go to him this night. It was as if the earth itself was crying out to you to go to him now or you were to never go to him at all.

His eyes seemed to convey the realization that you had indeed thought about all of this, and his hand trailed from your cheek down to the suppleness of your neck, and around it, then he bent lower to kiss you. The kiss was unsure it seemed to you, as if he was testing how welcome it truly was to both of you.

You returned it a couple seconds later, trying to make your mouth communicate your reassurance. At this, the kiss became deeper and you felt him take your bottom lip between his parted lips and gently suckle it before taking advantage of the gasp you let out, and plunging his tongue in your mouth. He explored it for several long moments, and you took the opportunity to do the same to him in return.

He released your now reddened lips, and lay a series of soft, sweet kisses upon your cheek, stopping briefly at your cheekbone to nip and kiss at as you hear him whisper in your ear, feeling the heat of his breath on your skin as he spoke, “I’ll take this as slow and gentle as I can being as it is your first time, but at some point even I can offer no guarantees.”

The words caused an intense wave of pure desire to surge through your veins, and nervous butterflies to enter your stomach at the same moment. Images that you had attempted to dismiss in your fantasies danced briefly into your head.

You feel the hand which had remained in place at the back of your neck slip down to the small of your back pulling you against him, while his other began to take more liberties, and slowly work its way up to your left breast which seemed to be tingling before this with an odd ache at the mere anticipation of touch. You let out an involuntary moan when he began to massage your nipple through the fabric with his fingers.

As he continued, you realize any stirrings of desire you had before this were nothing compared to it. You had never let anyone touch you in this way, and now your whole body was aching with the need for it. It ached to be touched even more with each kiss, caress and feel of breath on the skin.

After a few minutes of this, he pulled you even closer against him, letting you feel the growing evidence of his own desire rub against you. He let out a moan at the contact, and one of his hands reached down grabbing your backside pushing your groin even harder against his own. He began to rock his hips gently against you making you gasp, moan and whimper at the new sensation.

Your own hands had wound their way about his waist, and you clung to him as he trailed his lips the length of your neck. But now they were beginning to want to feel more. So, trampling down the shyness that kept your own hands and lips from exploring him, you began to run your hands over the fabric covering his chest. The white tunic, made of the same fabric as your gown, felt like satin underneath your fingertips, but you could clearly feel the contours and muscle of the body hidden from view beneath it. You wanted to taste the skin so that was hidden from you more than anything in the world now, even as your hands slipped down lower over his torso to his hips.

You were tempted to go lower, but not knowing exactly what to do, and knowing precisely what was underneath the fabric of his trousers, you hesitated and contented yourself with leaving one hand on his hip and the other to run along his spine.

His lips, which had been fixated on your neck and collarbone parted in a smile that you could feel on your skin as he stopped and claimed your lips, grabbing the hand upon his hip in his own. After suckling your bottom lip in a sensual, hungry manner, he whispered, “It is okay. You can if you want to.”

At this he slowly nudged your hand a little farther downwards breaking the contact of your bodies slightly, leaving you feeling in a way more frustrated than you had ever been before in your life at the abruptly ended sensation the contact of your bodies afforded.

He did not force it down any further, but you chanced a look at his lustful face and could tell he really did want you to do this. More out of curiosity than anything, you took your chance and gently cupped the erection which you had felt pressing and rubbing against you just moments before. He let out a strangled whimper, and you looked up to see if you hurt him.

It was very clear that you hadn’t by his closed eyes and open mouth that let out a deep throaty moan when you began to gently rub your hand against him. Somehow the sounds he was making, and the look of pure bliss on his face increased your own need, and realizing his own hands had stopped wandering, or doing anything to you for a few brief moments you stop.

You felt selfish, but you could not help it. Another wave of curiosity had overtaken you, and you wondered what it would feel like if he touched you in your most private areas. You had never let yourself have the freedom of pleasuring yourself, feeling as if it would open you up to something that you would not want to touch upon until you experienced real love play with another.

The idea of his hands between your legs made you begin to feel extremely wet, filled with lust, and before you knew what you were doing you were grabbing his hand, as he protested with a growl to your stopping your ministrations to his own center of desire, when a smirk came to his face as he looked down and seen you lifting your skirt up with your free hand.

Once your hem was mid-thigh he wasted no time in slipping his hand underneath it between your legs. His finger found your nub easily and began rubbing it gently*. You cried out feeling your knees give a little at this, as you clung to his forearms to stay upright. A soft, kindly chuckle escaped his lips as his free hand lifted you back up to your standing position, then took one of your hands and placed it on a cheek of his backside. You look up at him as he induced you to moan at the attentions of his hand between your legs as he began to run his fingers along the lips of your pussy, then go back to massaging your clit in a circular motion that was quickly beginning to make you want to scream in delight.

“You’re so wet already and we have just begun my dear,” he muses, then you feel his finger move back a little and begin to rub at your opening. He slides a single digit in and out a couple of times, and your knees buckle once more. A smug smile came to his face at your reaction for a moment, then a look of pure hungry want replaced it as he watched your facial expressions, listened to your moans, and you could tell he was noting your breath starting to come quicker with each stroke his finger made inside you.

“Please…” you half whisper, half whimper.

“Please?” he asked with another smirk as he comes in to start kissing your neck and the exposed portion of your breast as he continues his wonderful, torturous motions between your legs.

He takes your right nipple in his mouth between the light fabric and you can fill him sucking it between his teeth.

“Take me to your bed,” you say in breathless voice. 

Wordlessly he stops, letting your skirt fall back to your ankles making your insides and very skin mourn the loss of his touch. He takes both of your hands in his and tugs gently, turning his head and shoulders to look behind him as he leads you to your requested destination.

When you reach the side of it, it is as if the complete realization of what is about to happen overtakes you and you find your arms crossing over your chest to cover yourself. He gives you a patient, but tender smile and reaches out with both hands and cups each side of your face in them, rubbing his thumbs along your cheekbones, and then trailing them to the sides of your neck finally resting them on your shoulders.

“We can stop now if you want. Each day take things a little further if you have changed your mind about giving yourself to me completely this night,” he tells you looking into your eyes, and you can feel him trying to convey a sense of empathy towards you.

You look away - at the bed, a golden coverlet and soft, white sheets folded down to welcome their usual lone occupant. The desire that was still causing an ache to your loins, and a sheer intuition of feeling (the same one that had led you to his private rooms in the first place) called out to you louder than ever. You felt your head shaking even before you began to speak as you turned your gaze back to him, “No, I do not wish to stop.” You take a moment to catch your breath and decide to be completely honest, “But I will admit to being a little frightened.”

His left hand moves up to your cheek once more and he runs his thumb along your lower lip as he looks upon you, “What are you frightened of my lovely one?”

Hearing him call you that makes your lips twitch up at the ends slightly. Other than the unknown what are you afraid of? The pain they say there is with the first time? Or is it fear of not being able to truly please him? Or that once you are truly uncovered in front of him that he will be turned off? That he will not want you tomorrow even though he said he would?

 

The thoughts race in your mind a mile a minute.

As if able to read some of them by the look in your eyes alone, he kisses you gently, and only pulling away just enough to speak says, “You need not fear that I will not desire you at any point on this night, or any other, if that is what part of your trepidation springs from. I can assure you, I will call for you not only tomorrow, but many nights after.”

You can’t help the relieved smile that crosses your face. He grins in return and kisses you once more, this time deeply, filled with a raging need. He pulls you tightly against him once more by the waist, and your arms snake about his shoulders and tangle in the long hair behind his neck.

You feel his hands begin to run along the sides of your body, and then finally he pulls away when they reach your shoulders. Feeling a little dazed and breathless you look at him confused. He looks down at your nearly bare shoulders, then up at you. Your eyes remain fixed on his as he runs his fingertips over your shoulders to the edges of your robe and nightgown. You open your mouth in the automatic protest maidens are used to giving when a man attempts to get further along than he should, then close your mouth hearing a snapping sound at how hard you did so. No, you were not going to protest this. You decided when you came here that you would belong to him, and he had every right to undress and look at you if he wished. You let your arms fall to their sides and try to bury the nervousness that began to settle in your stomach.

“Do not be frightened,” he whispered as he grabbed the tops of the sleeves and slid them down your arms. The nightgown and robe both pool at your ankles a moment later, and the gentle breeze from the open window kisses your exposed skin. You resisted a second urge to cover yourself as he looked you up and down, then takes your hands in his once more, gives you a sweet smile, and places your hands on his chest.

Confused for a moment you look down at your hands and see they lay upon the first clasps of his tunic. You look up for a split second at his face, which is looking your naked flesh over, a clear look of pure desire written on his features. The idea of him being so filled with want for you sent a wave of need straight down to your toes. With it you hurriedly undid the clasps and lacings and he shrugged the material off in a fluid movement as you looked upon him and reached out to touch his chest with your fingertips. Finally, coming to the rim of his trousers where the significant evidence of his arousal was clear even with them on. You undo the first two buttons and then he grabbed your hands.

“I think it best if you let me do that when the appropriate time comes. You can look after we make love.”

You cannot help the pouty look that crosses your features, but as he was the more experienced one, you felt it best not to protest. You were not totally ignorant of male anatomy, you had lived long enough to know what it looked like, (granted, not in a full state of arousal), but considering the circumstances…

“Lay down,” he said in a tone of voice that you weren’t sure if it was a command or a request. Either way, you do what you are told and settle into the pillows, sheets and blankets in the middle of the bed. He first lays down next to you then maneuvers his way to lay on top of you, his legs entangling with your own. Feeling the weight of his body on yours makes it seem as if your body took on a mind of its own, and instinctively your legs parted bending slightly, and finally laying to rest on top of his own, entwined once more.

You let out a gasp when you feel him rub against you even more intimately than before a second later. He didn’t thrust his hips against you this time however, but instead kissed your lips several times - each one drawing you deeper into it. He released your lips finally and began to leave soft, fluttering kisses on your cheeks and down your neck. His mouth worked its way down slowly before finally taking your left pap, aching for attention, into his mouth and suckling on it and licking at it with the tip of his tongue. The sensation makes your hips buck against his own, and your hand once again tangles in his hair at the back of his neck to gently urge him to continue. He obliges you for several more moments before moving to the right, repeating the action.

You feel a deep pooling of warmth and are suddenly hit with waves of delightful bliss, something you had only felt in tinges before now. Each wave feeds off the other and you found your insides, in the spot where he had been sliding his finger in and out of you tightening as your hips began thrusting against his body as if possessed by another force entirely. It forced your eyes closed and your legs began to open wider with each wave that hit you.

You’re pulled out of your impeding orgasm briefly when he stops his attention to your breasts with his mouth, replacing it with his hands which massage the hardened flesh gently but assuredly for a few moments. His mouth is busy trailing lower down your belly, to your left hip, then the inside of your thigh which causes a tingling sensation to shoot down your legs making your toes curl. His lips traveled the length of your leg, and nip at your ankle, before switching to your right and worked its way back up your ankle, leg, and then hip, before meeting in the middle at your bellybutton, which he dipped the tip of his tongue into and sucked at.

You peered down at him with heavy eyelids unsure as to what he is about to, but found yourself willing to let him do as he pleased as long as he didn’t stop making you feel so blissfully alive and full of need for him. He glanced up at you for a moment, before pushing your legs further up, and farther apart, then dipping between your legs.

The first moment of sensation was almost blindingly alarming in its feeling and how it shot through your whole body like a lightening current, as he began to lick and suck on your clit and kiss the lips of your most intimate parts. You find yourself crying out, then moaning deeply, clutching the blankets beneath you to ride it out.

He continued, unrelenting, his mouth working in intricate patterns on your body, and his hands gently holding your hips down to keep you from bucking against him. The restraint caused you to feel even more aroused, not because of it limiting you, but because it forced you to feel in excess everything he did to you.

The world around you began to fall away and through closed eyes, your body seemed pinpointed on the area he was working at so expertly between your legs. Stars were starting to form behind your eyelids, you felt as if your breath was being lost to you. Above all, your heart and blood was pounding so hard you were sure everyone in the kingdom could hear it. It was making you afraid. You briefly worried it would explode if it took anymore. It was like being on the edge of a cliff with waves pounding around in you in every direction, coming higher and higher before one huge wave would wash you over the edge. Once you were pushed over it, then it was if there was no sound at all, only feeling as the tidal wave washed over you. It was fear-inspiring and so wonderful in its feeling. You were only vaguely aware of your head thrashing against the pillows, and you biting you knuckles to strangle out the cry that was escaping your lips.

Finally, you were able to open your eyes, and the last aftershock of your orgasm had to wear away before he came into focus again, and he was laying fully on top of you once more, your legs spread further than you had ever thought possible, and your body slick with sweat.

He looked down upon you as you came back to reality, propped on his elbows, then seeing your eyes open bended down, and his arms snaked about you while kissing your cheek and nipping at your ear. He went back to kissing your neck and sucking at it then he reached your collarbone. Once there, you felt him suck hard at the flesh, even taking it between his teeth, and it stung for a moment before he released the skin. He looked upon the spot for a brief moment, and a strange, pleased smile came to his lips.

You give him a confused look and reach up to touch the area that felt bruised. He smirks at you, then says softly, “You’ll need to wear something about your neck for a couple of days.” He apparently seen the confused look on your face as you rub it, “You’ll understand when you look in the mirror.” At this he leaned down and went back to kissing the other side of your neck and collarbone as his hands traveled the length of your spine and grabbed your buttocks, kneading it in his hands, and ran his fingertips along your hips and sides before one hand cupped one of your breasts, while the other went back to tracing your spine.

Did he mark me? You wonder for a moment. The idea seemed oddly sensual to you, but at the same time filled you with confusion. Why would he mark me? You had seen such marks on some of your friends who had lovers bodies before. So you knew it was practiced, you just never imagined he would do such a blatantly ‘you are mine, and I do not care who knows it’ thing to you.

At this, you turned your head toward him, and he caressed your cheek with his own before giving you a brief kiss on the lips, then jumping to your breasts once more, then came back up to your neck. His hands were all over you. They never really stayed put.

You became aware that he would possibly welcome you to kiss and touch his neck, chest and other parts if you could. So, glancing briefly at his profile which is focused on the spot behind your ear, you bring your hands from his waist and let them explore his spine with one and his muscled chest with the other, then you bring your lips up to his own ear and take the earlobe between your teeth and gently suck at it. You hear a husky breath escape his lips, and let it lead you on. You let your hands wander further down his chest and back until, after only a moment of hesitation you grab one cheek of his backside and let the other venture between his legs to rub the probing erection which had been brushing against your leg and groin.

He turned to look at you with a lustful gaze that made your ego swell before you pull up a little to capture his lips with your own. You could still taste yourself upon his tongue, and you refused to let his lips leave your own for several long moments as you attempt to figure out a way to let your wandering hands find a way inside his trousers. The idea of touching him there was very alluring to you, almost like an area that was to be conquered, and listening to him purr and moan in your ear and mouth brought your body back alive again.

He grabbed your hand again which had almost worked its way inside and placed it on his hip. At this, you release his mouth with a frustrated groan.

He laughed softly at this, “I know you want to touch me like I have touched you my pet, and I promise you can after this first time is passed.”

“I want you to feel as wonderful as you have made me feel,” you tried to reason with him while looking in his eyes, attempting once more to dip your hand down his pants. He snickers at you when he grabs your hand again, only he doesn’t place it on his hip, but on the outside of trousers over his erection. “Settle for this right now.” He tells you. You give him a disappointed pout, then you start to rub him slowly watching his eyes close, and you let out a small, happy gasp when you feel him buck his hips against yours.

He speaks something in Sindarian, then leans down close to your lips, but doesn’t kiss you, cupping your chin in his right hand, “I want you so much. I can hardly bear it.” He kisses you a couple of times before continuing, “It is going to hurt this time my dear. No matter what I do, or how gentle and careful I am, it will hurt. Do you understand?”

You nod, and bite your lip.

“Are you sure you want to do this with me?” he asks in a tone that clearly says if you consent it will be the point of no return.

You again nod. “There is no other who I would ever want to do this with.”

He closes his eyes, as if saddened by your words, then opens them simply nodding in return, “Just lay still for a few moments, and relax as much as you can. Do not look at it, or it may frighten you.”

You move your hands up to snake around his waist once more. Unsure what he means, you begin to feel his hand reach between you and move undoing the buttons to his pants. He sits up for a moment and tells you to close your eyes. Confused, you obey, hearing the rustle of fabric, then the sound of it hitting the floor beside you. You feel him resume his earlier position, and he kisses you - long, hard and deeply as he dips his hand between your legs once more.

He rubs at your clit again. Reawakening your need for him again in full force, then slides a finger inside you once more, working in and out slowly. A moment later he removes it, then slides back in having added another finger, repeating the action. The feeling is still wonderful but tight somehow, each movement making it more pleasant. After a few minutes of this, and many deep wanton-filled kisses later he slides his fingers out for the last time and then you could feel his hand grab his member and begin to rub it against you instead.

The feeling made both of moan in delight and he continued to do this for several minutes before he asked you in breathless voice, “Are you ready?”

You merely nod your consent, then do your best to not only lay still as he continued rubbing himself against you, but to relax.

Suddenly he went still himself, and you could feel him placing the tip of the hardened, warm flesh at the mouth of your vagina. You bit down the urge to look down and force your muscles, which were starting to tense up at the idea, to relax.

“It will be alright. The pain will only last a moment, and if it doesn’t we’ll stop,” he tells you in a controlled tone of voice.

Not sure why he had that tone you turn your gaze to the ceiling and take several deep breaths, feeling your muscles calm all over. Noting this it seemed, he seized the moment and slowly slipped inside of you.

You let out a yelp in both surprise and pain. The pain was searing. Like a knife had been plunged into your most sensitive area and left a large bulge of something inside you which your vaginal muscles were tightening around in alarm making the pain worse. You could feel your eyes well up with tears, and before you could keep yourself from blurting it out you whimper, “It hurts! Oh gods it hurts!”

You hear him speaking your name at this, begging you to listen to him. You force yourself to open your eyes and look at him once more, “Listen to me. I know it hurts. For all that is good in the world, I wish it didn’t, but you need to force yourself to relax again. It will stop hurting so much then.”

After a few hyperventilated breaths, you grit your teeth and try to focus on what he told you to do.

“Breathe my dear, breathe,” he tells you in a soft, gentle voice.

You do as he asks and begin to take deep breaths, to calm yourself, but remain as perfectly still as possible. As he said, the pain began to subside a great deal once you stopped concentrating on how much it initially hurt.

“Good. You’re doing very well darling,” he whispers to you and bends down to kiss away the tears from your eyes. “I’m sorry this is hurting you.”

The pain seemed to have completely ebbed away, and now you just felt the strange tightening sensation of him being inside of you. At this point, you weren’t really sure if you liked it or not.

“I am going to take myself completely out of you for a few moments, and remind your body of its wants before I plunge back into you again. I promise it will not hurt the second time if you remain at peace and feel the desire in your veins, rather than the fear.”

After he says this, you feel him leave your body, with what sounded like a frustrated groan. He closed his eyes for a moment and reopened them, as if steeling himself to keep control over his emotions, or possibly his needs.

You feel a little bad about that, but are unable to fully focus on it when he begins kissing your breasts once more for a moment or so, and then rubbing his erection between your folds again. This time your opening seems to be ready to welcome him in with each pass, and before you think twice about it, you pushed your hips upwards a little and felt him slip inside you. He cried out in surprise and you could see the flood of ecstasy cross his features as his eyes closed and his back arched slightly. The hardened flesh stung a little at first, but was nothing like before. In fact, the longer it lingered there the more pleasant it felt.

He finally opened his eyes, and looked upon you shaking his head, breathless he cried out, “I can’t control it anymore woman!”

At this he began thrusting his hips as his hands grabbed yours by the wrists and he pulled your arms over your head. The thrusting felt uncomfortable at first, then started to feel good in a way you could not really explain. His rhythm started out slow but steady, then seemed to gain speed and force when you found yourself opening up more to him and he was able to take you even more deeply. The waves of passion from before started to claim you once more, and you could do nothing but enjoy it for he held you down in place. Then in what seemed merely moments later you felt the same tidal wave begin to rush in on you as his rhythm became frenzied and his thrusts so hard that he was burying himself inside you to the hilt. The force of his thrusts making a slapping sound as he made contact with your body.

You were both moaning, and saying things which would leave no doubt to any passersby as to what was happening behind his closed door.

Finally, the wave crashed over you, but you didn’t try to quiet the scream coming from your lips. You didn’t have to for he cried out just as loudly for a moment, then leaned down and claimed your mouth to drown out both of you. Suddenly, all at once you felt a warm rush of something inside you, and his mouth leaving yours as trembling, he pumped his hips against you for a few seconds longer before stopping.

“Are you okay?” he asked you after several silent moments while he caught his breath.

Just as breathless you answer, “Yes.”

He merely nods with closed eyes, releases your wrists, then lifts himself off of you, and settles in the spot next to you once you move over a little. You look upon him in wonder more in love with him than ever before, and longing for him to hold you. You watch as he slows his breath with closed eyes, and then you take your moment to look him completely over. He is just as beautiful as you imagined him to be, but you can’t help glancing below, and feeling your thighs clench together for a moment when you seen his diminishing erection. That was inside you? Gods, no wonder it hurt at first. How did it even fit, you wonder briefly. Then you curse your body when it sends another current of desire down from your belly to your legs, to your toes when you think about how it felt the second time he was inside you.

You hear him chuckle beside you, and you look up, not having realized you had been staring at his penis this whole time, and see the smirk on his face, “Now you know why I told you not to look. My wife made the mistake of looking and wouldn’t let me come near her for a month after we wed once she seen it. But then she had not ever seen a naked elf-man before either.” He lay beside you, just looking at you for a long moment before he asked, “Did it hurt very much the second time, my pet?”

“No. It was just as you said. It only really hurt the first time.”

He nodded and looked away for a second before looking back at you, and reaching his arm out to you. “Come to me.”

You scoot over and settle in his outstretched arms, laying your head on his chest. Before you knew it, you nodded off to sleep along with him.

When you awoke you briefly didn’t remember where you were until you looked up and seen his sleeping face.

You slid your arm about his waist and pushed yourself closer against him just to know he isn’t another dream your mind had made up.

You let your cheek caress his chest, and then close your eyes to try and settle back into sleep when you begin to feel his right hand begin to wander down to your breast and the feeling of his lips against your forehead force your eyes back open. You look up at him and taking your chin in his hand he leaned down to kiss you.

You smile then cringe when you began to feel the stirrings of an actual need for love making once more. You slid your hand down his torso, and abdomen, then tenderly but firmly grabbed his member. You begin running your fingers and palm along the shaft and hear him let out a sound that you could only liken to purring.

He turns to lay flat on his back as you do this, and puts an arm about your waist.

“Aren’t you too sore for another game of love making?”

Feeling a little wicked, you shake your head and continue rubbing him, reveling in the feeling of  him beginning to harden and grow in your hand.

“Don’t wake it up too much or you’ll have to play with it my dear,” he warned in a teasing voice.

You look at it for a long moment as it finally becomes completely erect, and you think of what he did to you earlier. “Can I kiss it?” you found yourself asking, leaving him to raise his eyebrows at you, and give you a smile.

“Of course. Carefully though.”

You let out your own laugh at this, to tell him that you already knew that much, and nervously look upon it in your hand, before bending over and taking as much of him as you can into your mouth.

You feel him tense, and let out a gasp. You look up and see his eyes are closed and his hands are digging into the blankets. You lick at him, especially around the tip then suckle on it for a couple of minutes before releasing it and going back to pleasuring him with your hands. The skin was slightly salty, but not bad tasting you muse. Yet, other than a few labored gasps and whimpers he let escape his throat, you weren’t sure if he was actually liked what you had been doing or not. His eyes opened and he looked at you in an almost pathetic way.

“Why did you stop, love?”

You give him a sheepish smile, “I wasn’t sure if you liked it or not.”

He let out a small, incredulous laugh at this. “Trust me, I did. It’s okay though. I’d rather have what you got between your legs.”

You feel your eyes grow large at this, and then with same wicked feeling as before, you climb on top of him and straddle him between your legs, the idea of him being so turned on by you making your own want of him grow.

“You really want it, my lord?” you ask in a teasing voice as you begin to rub yourself against his erection which makes you both moan in pleasure while he cups your breasts in his hands, and begins to massage and rub them.

“Don’t be coy, my lady,” he comments then throws his head back for a moment letting out a deep moan as you rub yourself on him a little faster. When he opened his eyes again, he began to rub the tips of your nipples with his thumbs looking at you, you could swear, like a hungry cat.

The look and the sensations brought back your earlier longings in with such force you could feel yourself becoming impossibly wet at the idea of it. Finally, you stop rubbing against him and then leaned forward slightly until you felt his tip at the entrance of your opening, and you took a deep breath before you lowered yourself on to him slowly and carefully.

As you did this, he stopped his attentions to your breasts, and remained completely still. Once you were mounted, he went back to gently rubbing your nipples with his thumb. Noting your hesitation because you weren’t too sure what to do, he trailed his hands down to your buttocks, cupped a cheek in each hand and began to lift and lower you in a slow rhythm while making a slight circular swirl with your hips whispering, “Like this.”

Whatever this position afforded to you, you loved it, and when he was certain you had the gist of what you needed to do, he closed his eyes with a mysterious, pleasant smile on his face and seemed to be enjoying it just as much. You easily found your own rhythm, and loved watching his face and body react underneath you as the pleasure within yourself began to slowly amount.

As you continued to ride him you began to feel nature itself take over, pumping harder and faster as what you now knew were orgasms started to overtake you. Thranduil merely clutched at your hips and backside, occasionally his own hips would thrust up, unable to contain the needs they longed for, until finally, the world fell away once again, then came back into focus greeting you with sight of him underneath you writhing and moaning, making you continue to pleasure him, through the last quivers of your own climax, stopping only after his back arched and he cried out to the gods in his own death and rebirth via pure pleasure.

Once you lifted yourself off of him and settled down beside him, you found yourself becoming sleepy and spent in a way you hadn’t felt in your whole life. However, you remember something that filled you with a slight sorrow. You needed to leave him and go back to your chambers before the servants came to wait upon him.

You both had a reputation to uphold, and while you were sure they would find out that the two of you were sharing a bed now, you doubted it would be something that he would want to broadcast right away.

You knew a sad look crept into your eyes which he caught, and propped himself up on his elbows hovering over you.

“What is wrong?”

“I need to go,” you whispered and you seen the puzzlement settle on his face. “Before the servants come in. They will never let it rest if they find you with me before the Autumn Feast. At least on that day you’ll have the excuse of being drunk for taking me into your bed.”

He put a finger to your lips to silence you, “I am not ashamed of what we have done this night, and you need not worry about my reputation. But if that is your wish, then I will abide by it. Our meetings will be secret until the Feast.”

You nod, and sit up looking about the now darkened room for your clothes. You felt his hand on your own, and you turned back to him.

“Are you sure this is truly what you want? You know my heart and where it truly belongs. Can you be so sure that you can stand it?” You look away, and then back at him as he continues, “I have known for a long time that you are in love with me, no matter how I pretended not to.” He stopped with a long sigh, then continued, “Will this truly be enough for you?”

“Yes, it has to be,” you answer in a soft, sad voice. You looked deeply into his eyes and then smiled in what you hoped conveyed reassuarance, “It is not as bad as it seems.”

“What do you mean?”

“You said you will want me, yes?” He nodded in reply, “And that you will even crave my love – that you will need me.” Again, he nodded. “Then it will be enough.”

You stood up and steeled yourself so that you could leave the room without running back into his arms.

“Why is that enough? How can it be?” you heard him ask behind you.

Turning back to him as you picked up your night gown and robe, then put them back on, you answer, “You will let me love you and be with you in the most intimate of ways. That alone means more to me than you can know. Besides, the way how I see it is, even if you can never love me, you’ll want me and need me. Having the two out of the three is not too bad considering our circumstances.”

He looked down at the blankets on your side of the bed, “Please do not go. I will long for you cruelly.”

You bite your lip, and force yourself to stick with your resolve. “I have to. If I cannot walk away from you this night, even if it is for just a few hours, then I will never be able to walk away when I will need to the most.”

You felt your hands ball into tight fists, as you turned away from the pained look on his face, forcing yourself to not look back, and slipped back out in to the halls back to your own chambers.

You knew you would come to him again the next night, and the one after. Indeed every night afterward until he told you not to. You had made up your mind before you even went to him.

It would be your blessing and your curse.

~FIN~

 

*Author’s Additional Notes: You may wonder why in all of my lemons dealing with The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings that the ladies do not have underwear on (or the men for that matter). Well, bluntly put people didn’t wear underwear until the last couple of centuries or so unless it was a chastity belt. Not to mention, it’s just awkward to try and write something like this to make it sound pleasurable when the guy is trying to feel the lady’s sweet bits through fabric. (If you’re a virgin and have never been, well, fingered, you won’t understand probably until you do get felt up down below.) Since I don’t know if Tolkien meant for the people in his world to wear underwear, I’m just going to go with historic accuracy.

anonymous asked:

Could you do a drarry fic were Draco and Harry get into a tickle fight?💕 ~trash anon

So I was writing this and of course I accidentally deleted half of it, so I had to start over. Not as good as I originally pictured it, but I think it’s still okay :) Thank you for the request, anon! I don’t normally write for HP even though I’m in the fandom lol Also, trash anon sounds like such a degrading name! Lol no disrespect XD where’d you get it????

Implied Drarry and not explicitly gay until the end :) Enjoy!


A flick of a wand, the muttering of a spell, and the flinching reaction of the attackee were all it took to keep Draco Malfoy entertained.

“Potter, only you would stay indoors on a day without classes, you know.”

“And I intend to keep it like that.”

Draco huffed, “How are you completing homework on a day like today? With the extended weekend and everything.”

“I’m working on a Herbology paper if you must know. Hermione’s going home for the break and this is due before she gets back, so… here I am.”

Draco sneered and snickered, “The famous Harry Potter hasn’t completed a single assignment himself,” he flicked his wand and a wisp of magic ruffled through Harry’s already disheveled hair. 

Harry shook his head out but didn’t even look up at Draco to give him the satisfaction of knowing the Malfoy was successfully distracting him from his work. 

“I’ll go out in the snow with you if you stop working,” Draco attempted an endearing smile. 

“Nice try.”

The blonde haired boy tossed his head back with a groan. Then he watched Harry pour over his essay, scribbling away. He tapped the tip of his wand against his own nose in thought before a mischievous grin graced his thin, pale lips. 

With the slightest jerk of his wrist and the mumbling of a spell soft enough so Harry wouldn’t hear, the Chosen One was targeted. It was as if the spell had pulled Harry out of his plush armchair, said young man jumping in the air with a yelp and a brief laugh. Hands flew to his abdomen as parchment and ink spilled from his lap and onto the ornate Gryffindor rug. 

Draco’s grey eyes lit up as he sat up on the sofa excitedly, “Sohomething the matter, Potter?”

“Dr-Drahaco! You git!”

Draco said the spell aloud this time, “Rictusempra!” 

Harry doubled over once more and he laughed even more, falling to his knees on the floor, “St-Stohohohoppit! Drahahahahaco nohoho!” 

“Hmm, I agree. Needs a bit more physical action to really work, doesn’t it?” Draco smirked and he galavanted across the room and straddled Harry, the effects of the spell wearing off. 

The Boy Who Lived, however, was quick to react and he grabbed Draco’s wrists before they could do any damage. And in a sweeping motion, Harry pushed Draco to the base of the couch on the floor, sitting in front of the Slytherin.

“P-Potter!” 

“You’ve gotten ink all over my essay,” Harry’s green eyes flickered dangerously, “I hope you know what that means.”

Draco gulped nervously but his lips soon twitched into a quivering smile before giggles bubbled up in his throat. Harry was skittering his fingers up and down his ribs.

Draco did try pushing at Harry, being pinned between him and the couch, twisting to and fro. 

“Nohoho! Ack! Dohohohon’t!” 

“Don’t what, Draco?” Harry asked with a smile, tippling his fingers into Draco’s armpits. Draco let out a squeak and his laughter hitched up an octave. Liking the reaction, Harry pinned one of Draco’s arms into the sofa cushion as his fingers wiggled and dug into the now exposed underarm without hindrance. 

“STAHAHAHAP! AhahahaHAHA!”

“Don’t stop? Fantastic,” Harry smirked, “You know, I should make you rewrite my paper.”

“NOhohOHO EEHEEHEEHEHEHEAHAHA! H-HAHAhaharryyyyy!” Draco tossed his head back as he laughed. 

Malfoy slid onto his back on the floor from all his squirming and Harry followed him down, pausing his torture to let the red-faced blonde catch his breath.

“Whahat happened to resourcefulness and cunning, Mr. Slytherin?” Harry teased with a chuckle.

Draco looked up at Harry and he panted, “Youhu underestimate me, Potter,” and he leaned up and pressed his lips into Harry’s. 

Harry shut his eyes and kissed back, his lips semi-curved in a smile. Draco wrapped his arms around the other, a finger tracing his spine lovingly. That sent a pleasure shiver through Harry’s body and he hummed. 

“I suhuppose I did,” Harry split from the kiss to admit, smiling at Draco. 

“How about a break from the workload? I’ll clean up your parchment and everything. Promise.”

“How wise is it to take promises from the deceitful mouth of a Malfoy?”

And another round of tickles descended upon Harry Potter, unable to catch a break for anything. 

To The Sun

I started this a hundred years ago and chickpea <3 at @bungoustrayscenarios​ reminded me about it tonight so I finished it because I’m weak for Mafia!Dazai.

Pairing : Mafia!Dazai x Reader[F]
Genre: Fluff & Angst
Timeline: Canon-divergent. Odasaku lives & Dazai remains in the mafia.
[language - violence] [told over the course of four seasons]

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anonymous asked:

Could you write about fem!Tony and T'Challa is completely smitten and whether this is pre- or post- Civil War, the Avengers realize how smitten T'Challa really is?

A/N: As this is the first fill on ImagineIronPanther, I’d like to take a moment to thank all of the followers and prompters who are encouraging us, along with my fellow authors, who are making this a reality. You’re the best. - Taylor

This fic can also be read on Ao3


Toni figures it out, of course. She’s a genius with billions of dollars at her disposal and honestly, that leather-clad cat is severely underestimating her if he thinks he can hide half a dozen super-powered fugitives in his palace without her knowing about it.

She lets them be, though. Steve had asked it of her and besides, Toni doesn’t think she’s ready to face them. Not yet, possibly not ever. She doesn’t barge into Wakanda, doesn’t try to message them, most certainly doesn’t inform Ross (he’s an asshole that lost what little respect she held for him when he locked her friends in an underwater prison against her knowledge or consent). She lets them be, and when King T’Challa joins the first of many UN sessions in an apparently earnest attempt to locate the fugitives, Toni smirks at him from across the room.

He nods back, and in that glance she knows that he knows that she knows.  Toni’s smirk widens and she sips at the scotch she wasn’t supposed to bring in and says nothing.

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@gentleasice

The dank, empty hallway echoed with distant footsteps.  To most, perhaps, this place would be considered glamorous– but Dom was not most people.  He preferred the gentle rocking of a simple wooden ship, dressed in nothing but crisp sails and a few good canons– not the elegant rugs and ornate lanterns that adorned the halls of this palace.  It was ostentatious and reminded him of a place he longed to forget— home.  This palace represented everything about the family he hailed from that he despised, that he’d worked so hard to escape.

Which is why he’d traded the considerately modest quarters for an empty hallway.  He felt like he was suffocating in the private room, especially with Mina missing.  The bed was too soft, the room was too warm, the creepy paintings on the wall of someone long since dead– he just missed the boat and the open sky.  If they were going to stay in the place too long he’d start to forget what the stars looked like.

Footsteps rang again– this time closing in on where he stood, close and alarming enough for him to duck into an alcove and out of sight.  He peered around the set of armor that served as his protection, catching sight of none other than the princess herself.  Much more casual that he’d seen her before, simply dressed in what could be considered sparring clothes– a jarring contrast to the decorated uniform he’d seen her in earlier that day.  Sure, Mina had insisted they could trust her, but in Dom’s experience, you couldn’t trust anyone with that much power.  Especially someone who had his brother as an adviser. Especially someone with that much power, walking alone. At night. Without any guards.  With a purpose.  Checking behind them frequently as they walked….

He was following her before he realized what he was doing.  Keeping to the shadows ducking out of sight whenever she’d peer behind her.  He’d always been stealthy, yes, but she wasn’t making it easy.  He was so focused on the pursuit he’d barely noticed when they had stepped outside.  Had it not been for the quiet breeze the rustled his loose shirt and the chirps of the crickets he might not have noticed at all.  Leaving the castle?  How scandalous.  Now he knew this was a worthwhile endeavor– especially when he caught sight of her hoisting open…a trap door?  In the middle of palace gardens?  Mina was gunna kill him anyway at this point, better make it worthwhile.

He waited several breaths before following, letting the door rest shut quietly long enough for him to be assured that she’d descended whatever method awaited him.  When he finally opened the door himself, damp steps awaited him, a dim blue glow beckoning at the bottom.  He crept quietly, grateful for once that the wraps of cloth he called shoes were quieter than the boots the belonged to the woman he followed.  Finally reaching the bottom, he peered around the corner, a grin spreading helplessly across his face.  The view the princess, now unclothed and sinking into the waters of an underground lake that glowed an inviting warm blue, and it was more than enough to convince him that hiding was no longer necessary.

Her back still to him, he strolled confidently right to the waters edge.  It was so clear he could see right to the bottom, but still had no idea what was causing the glow.  His eyes drifted to the princess as she waded father out– smile shifting to a devilish grin.  “Quite the fancy secret digs you got her, majesty.  Was wonderin’ where someone like you would be running to in such a hurry.  Question is, though, who else are ya waitin’ for?”

@rxseblanche || Continued from [X]

“Okay… T-Thank you.”

|| Haruhi followed the woman over to the fireplace, taking a seat down on the ornate rug that decorated the room. She was still shaking a bit, cold and scared from being out in the storm before this woman had let her come inside. ||

“D-Do you have anything warm I could drink?”

cityofolicity  asked:

Right before the wedding, Oliver takes Felicity aside and reveals to her that he has been faking Al Sah-him all along. Cue desperate, angsty smut and heartbreaking goodbyes. Happy writing, Bre!

Title: Enough (3x22 spec fic, Explicit)

A/N: I have a different idea of how things will go in 3x22 than what I write here. Unfortunately, my spec doesn’t fit with this fic.

Holly mentioned this idea the other day, and it was literally after reading Sleeping With the Enemy by mersayseh (which ya’ll should read, if you haven’t already) - here’s my angsty-as-hell version where Felicity doesn’t know Oliver is faking Al Sah-him:

When they’d strategized about coming back to Nanda Parbat to stop the alpha/omega death juice plan that was apparently in motion - that Oliver himself was supposed to carry out, according to a tiny but terrifyingly adept woman named Tatsu - they’d made contingency plans, like they always did; from the small stuff (what if they ran out of bullets for this gun, or what if someone forgot to bring an extra pair of socks) to the big stuff (the paperwork for new identities stashed in various places in Central City courtesy of Barry, or what would happen if one of them died).

Contingency plans were smart, and it ensured that everyone was on the same page.

Except Felicity had never planned on being yanked out of the cell where Oliver -  no, not Oliver, Al Sah-him, as her nightmares had ardently reminded her over and over again - had left them.

The League member had pulled her out by the shackles, breaking Laurel’s nose and nearly snapping Ray’s arm clean off in the process, and into…

A bathroom.

Felicity barely had a second to look around when the assassin shoved her into the large cavernous room. Her foot caught on the ornate rug decorating the center and she went down, landing painfully, her wrists jamming against the iron shackles.

“Bathe,” the assassin said as  he followed her silently, pushing her onto her back. He had a key out and the shackles were off before she could comprehend anything past the biting pain in her wrists as the single word finally resonated in her head.

“What?” she asked.

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Talk some sense to me | A Steroline Drabble

A/N: In case the finale doesn’t go how I’d like.

It is pitch dark in the room. Still, she keeps her eyes closed. She holds her breath, listening distantly for the sound of Elena’s.

Inhale. Exhale.

She knows - the part of her that still listens to reason, at least - knows the breathing isn’t going to stop. Not tonight. But the irrational side, the one thats been taking over more and more lately, can’t accept it without proof.

It’s in the moment she holds her breath that Stefan’s rises in volume. Deep, heaving, deliberate. As though he’s discovered a more profound level of sleep than she’s ever been aware existed.

That’s how she knows for sure that he’s awake.

Caroline’s eyes flutter open in the darkness. Slowly, she registers Stefan’s face, just inches from her own. Eyes carefully closed. His body, beside hers.

Even as they lie side by side, they don’t touch, save his wrist draped carefully over the curve of her waist. But much more than that, she feels the warmth of his closeness in the places their bodies align, not quite touching. His breath on her face. The swell of his chest, curved in around hers. His thigh where her knee nearly grazes it.

She’s not sure how they ended up here.

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Today the hurt will not yield.
I get too sentimental,
I set everything aflame.

Dull fat lifeless weight of being,
nevertheless, this is living!

The bone dry absurdity;
I see the years stretch before me
like a cheap ornate rug in a sordid
tacky motel.

Modern Day Phantom: The Unmasking

Christine tossed and turned on the verge of waking up, trying to find a comfortable position to hold on to sleep for just a few minutes longer. Tugging the sheet higher up over her shoulder, she turned to her side and tried to back slide into its warm embrace. However, there was no shaking soft but unmistakable dulcet sounds of a music box playing a tune so delicate it didn’t feel fair to ignore it.

The music seemed to stop all at once the moment she opened her eyes, leaving her surrounded by the disconcerting quiet of a Sunday morning and filled with the queasy uncertainty one suffered when they were unable to place whether things took place in a dream or in real life. Christine sat up on the oversized chaise, and leaned against the myriad of richly decorated and miraculously undisplaced cushions. She tried to shake away the haziness that still seemed to cloud her head and make sense of what had happened last night.

The Angel of Music was a man, that much she felt sure of. She had seen him with her own eyes… or rather, she had seen shadows and haze, recalling a masked figure in the dark recess of those dream-like thoughts. A part of her still held on to the belief that he was the heaven sent guardian her father promised her. She just couldn’t believe there was any other way to explain the unearthly beauty of his music.

Realizing she did not in fact know where she was, Christine actively regretted not having called Meg who probably just assumed she had spent a second night in a row at Raoul’s place. Even having never met the guy until the other night, no one had wholeheartedly supported the rekindling of that childhood connection quite like Meg.

Reminded of her very real surroundings and the very real life she had to get back to, Christine pushed the sheet aside and examined her surroundings properly this time. The chaise she’d d used as a bed was made of black suede, soft to the touch as her bare arms brushed against the material. The only light that leaked in through dark heavy brocade curtains came from the afternoon sun. The space dwarfed her apartment by almost twice the size, but was largely empty with an ornate Persian rug that stretched across almost the expanse of the floor. The furniture in the room included only a few other old-fashioned chairs upholstered in dark red velvet and a long black end table, atop which sat a Japanese sand garden in a polished ebony box. Across from her was a bookshelf brimming with old books that stretched across the entire wall. She left her shoes by the chaise and padded over as quietly as possible even without any indication that Erik was anywhere in the area. Curiously exploring the shelf, she skimmed the titles of hundreds of old medical books that had been out of publication for decades. Mixed in with as many books on music theory as she had expected, she found biographies of history’s most influential world leaders and much more surprisingly… chemistry and engineering texts, marked with pencil and nearly overflowing with graph paper notes.

Christine rushed to tuck the book back in, remembering her father telling her rude it was to snoop around another person’s home when one is a guest. Her guilty conscience almost dropped the heavy volume when discordant piano music started up unexpectedly. Moving across the room back to her shoes, she slipped them on before following the loud chords into what had to be his study, somehow even larger than the room she had woken up in despite the fact that she was more or less concluded they were situated in a high rise and still in Manhattan.

Lingering at the threshold, she gasped when she saw Erik hunched over a piano. He was astoundingly human in every way… even if she had never exactly envisioned a magnificent set of white wings at any point in her tutelage. He wore a forest green dress shirt with the sleeves folded at the elbow and black suit pants. She was almost grateful that the sound of his playing masked her heeled footsteps. He stopped to furiously scribble notes on the score in front of him before putting the pen down and pausing to review his work. She came up behind him and watched the entire process, mesmerized.

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