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Council Meeting

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It had started an an off handed comment, a challenge that was never actually intended to transpire. Melkor reclined on the bed, whetstone skimming the edge of a knife as Mairon smoothed a serum into his crimson locks in an attempt to tame them. The humidity was unbearable and neither had been in particularly jovial moods.

“Truly, I do not believe you could keep your composure,” Mairon shrugged, stealing a glance at the grinning Vala through the mirror. “Not if I was using my mouth.”

“Not only would I keep my composure, my dearest little flame, but I could refrain from coming in your pretty little mouth,” he countered haughtily.

“Through an entire council meeting?” The Maia paused, brows raised in disbelief as he turned toward his Master now. “A meeting that tends to span hours? You bluff, and not even well!”

“Then perhaps you ought prove me a liar,” Melkor grinned, giving Mairon a wink. “Now stop fussing with your hair and come to bed.” He placed the knife and whetstone to the side and patted the spot beside him. The Vala spread his legs, his large hand covering the clothed cock between. “And while we are on the subject… Remind me why I am so mistaken.”

Rolling his eyes, Mairon closed the glass serum bottle and complied, unable to help himself.

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Underneath the table, Mairon’s nose wrinkled in distaste. When was the last time this floor was cleaned? There was dust, dirt, and what felt like dried blood and he swore he did not want to think of what else there might be. He was grateful to be wearing so many layers, taking one and spreading it under where his knees would be.

The sound of the large door opening and heavy footsteps alerted him, his head snapping up and only just barely avoiding smashing into the table. Why he ever agreed to this little tryst, he had to truly wonder. Yet when Melkor took his seat at the head and the various attendees at last settled, he felt a rush like no other. One of the orcs, perhaps Boldog, had made a quiet remark about the missing lieutenant, but Mairon disregarded it. He had work to do, after all.

Melkor’s knees splayed open, his gloved hands above the table, as Gothmog called the first order of business. At the very least, Mairon had told his closest friend that he would not be at the council meeting today, thus ensuring things would still run smoothly. He shifted closer now, lithe fingers working to pull apart the lacing of his Master’s breeches, heart pounding in his chest so rapidly he was sure he would be found out.

He was pleased to see that his Master was already aroused, half hard cock stirring before him making his mouth water. A few light strokes was enough to bring Melkor’s length to fullness, and grinning, he leaned forward ever so slightly. His tongue swiped across the tip, enough to elicit the Vala’s sharp intake of breath. This, Mairon mused, would be easy.

Taking his time, the Maia swirled his tongue around the head of the cock now, his hand firm at the base holding the length steady as he worked. He loved the musky, earthy taste of his Master, the smell of ash that radiated off of him, but more than that, he loved being able to set the pace. More often than not, Melkor would lace his dark hands into his hair and guide each movement, but not today. Today the Vala was at his mercy!

With a soft exhale, his breath cooled the dampness he had left before taking the tip between his lips more fully. His lips suctioned together, tongue flattening along the underside as his head sunk downward. The descent was slow and his mouth was warm and wet around the cock and with delight, Melkor’s hips thrust forward slightly to try and take more of that moist heat now. Mairon, however, did not allow for the movement, pulling back as he tapped the other’s leg in reprimand.

He could hear the Vala’s disapproval sounding in his own mind now, echoing through his head like the start of a storm. His Master wanted more. Once again, Mairon took the cock into his mouth, his hand stroking along the base as he sunk down. At Melkor’s soft, almost unnoticeable rumble, his lips stretched into a smile around the length and immediately he began to move. Between his hand at the base and his lips and tongue lavishing the tip, the Vala was getting the full treatment.

Moving his hand after a long moment, his mouth took the remaining length with ease until the tip nudged securely in the back of his throat. From under the table he glanced up, honeyed eyes searching for his Master’s dark and ravenous gaze. To his expectation, Melkor was leaning back and though it was unlikely that anyone else might notice, Mairon had little doubt of the effect he had made.

Meeting Mairon’s gaze just briefly, Melkor’s lip twitched into a bit of a smirk, fading quickly when the Maia swallowed around him. His eyes shuttered closed as he controlled his reaction, though it was undeniable that he was struggling to keep up appearances. When he looked back up to the council, the Vala’s pupils were wide with lust, unseeing as the others talked on at length in their reports.

When at last the lack of air was starting to make him dizzy the Maia pulled back, inhaling through his nose before sinking back into a bobbing motion. He left no inch of cock untouched, his mouth working to bring his Master to completion. There was no mercy here, not whilst the memory of the other’s challenge rose again in his thoughts. His tongue liberally explored dark, thick veins, flushed skin. A soft moan escaped him, his face growing red as he realized that he may have been heard, but two orcs were having an argument and didn’t cease, so he decided he was fine.

The opulent and glorious cock stretched his lips as he took to delivering pleasure to his Master with determination, his eyes closing as he performed. When at last he pulled his mouth off the Vala’s length, his face was flush with desire, a string of saliva alone connecting them. His hand stroked, grip firm as his wrist twisted and he caught his breath. Coming closer again, his tongue trailed a hot stripe along the underside, and he felt Melkor tensing above him. Repeating the action, Mairon seemed to have earned himself something as his Master’s hand dove under the table and caught in his hair.

Pulled back to his duty, the Maia’s cheek met the cock first before it shoved back into his mouth. He fell back into the pattern with ease needing no further guidance, though the hand stayed firmly in his crimson locks. Mairon took the length to the hilt, nose buried against dark hair at his Master’s groin, swallowing around the intrusion. His hand fondled the sac below lovingly, enjoying every moment. Hearing the Vala’s breath hitch, he knew it was only a matter of time before he was spent.

Ever the faithful lieutenant, Mairon dutifully kept on, jaw and throat sore yet disregarded. His Master’s grip tightened, body leaning forward against the table, as he came at last, thick and hot seed filling his throat and mouth. Above him the table seemed to rumble, though he couldn’t be positive he wasn’t imagining it. Though Mairon pulled back enough to keep from gagging, the firm hold in his hair kept him in place until the Vala was spent.

When he was finally able to sit back on his heels, a wide grin spread across his face. The room had gone near silent now, and he could picture all eyes on their Lord. Gothmog, he assumed, cleared his throat now, his chair scraping back against the floor, but no one else dared to move. Curiosity was starting to get the better of him, and damn it all, Mairon wiped his mouth, fingers smoothing his mussed hair, before peeking over the edge of the table. Immediately he felt several eyes meet his, and as he slowly pushed himself into his seat as though nothing happened, he felt proud.

“If that is all for today, meeting adjourned,” he rasped, his throat having been better used for things aside from speaking. Glancing to his Master, Mairon’s grin only grew wider, cockier, at the sight of the Vala. While undone is not the word for it by conventional standards, it was obvious that Melkor had not kept his cool composure.

No one deemed to move, but as the lieutenant rose to his feet, his brow raising, quickly chairs scratched back against the stone floor. He waved his hand dismissively, allowing Gothmog to usher the group out, before slipping over to his Master’s side. Pressing a chaste kiss to his temple, the Maia couldn’t help hum. “I believe I have won, my Lord… Consider your bluff called.”