Chapter Text
Galadriel’s knife is at Adar’s throat the second he finishes speaking. She kneels before her prisoner, his erratic breathing hot on her neck. She presses her dagger closer, it’s cool metal biting the warm flesh of his unarmored neck.
“Perhaps I shall begin by killing you, you slavering orc,” She snarls in his face, righteous anger flowing through her veins. He sucks in a steadying breath, and leans forward, red blood bubbling up where the blade is pushed into his skin.
“Uruk.” Adar rasps, his words a challenge which Galadriel is more than happy to meet. Her dagger is withdrawn, giving Adar a second to catch his breath. She smiles.
Then, the back of her armored hand connects with his face, her movement a blur. Adar’s head whips to the side, a red splotch already forming. Shock is clear on his face, and a smirk forms on her lips. The slap isn’t painful, per se, it’s the implications that have disoriented him. She’d hit him with the back of an open hand, not a respectable punch, but a slap.
Adar’s head is still looking to the left, mouth slightly agape, so she grabs him by the chin and yanks his head so he’s facing her. He refuses to make eye contact.
“Look at me.” She hisses, daring him to disobey. Surprisingly, he complies, and they lock eyes. Her narrowed blue eyes shine with rage, a stark contrast to his dark ones with their pupils blown out. Her frown deepens. His face holds an expression that she cannot quite decipher, and his body is shaking ever so slightly with some foreign emotion.
She releases his chin, and moves so she's squatting in front of him. Adar moves, and her hand tightens around the dagger that she holds so dear, ready to use it. But he just shifts his legs, making no move to attack. She eyes him like a cat with a mouse. But this mouse has sharp teeth and claws, she reminds herself. Galadriel’s eyes rake over his body, disdain clear in her expression.
Adar shifts his head so his hair hangs over his face, obscuring it. She reaches out, and carefully tucks the greasy lock behind his ear, her movement a mockery of kindness that such a gesture would hold. As her hand touches his hair, brushing so softly across his cheekbone, he makes an odd noise. It’s a startled little gasp, and something about the timing makes Galadriel’s guts turn.
She drops her hand as if burned, and recoils to inspect him further. He looks away, seemingly uninterested. His face is carefully blank as she once again scrutinizes him. Her thoughts move rapidly, theories churning. He’s hiding something, he must be, Galadriel thinks desperately, not quite sure why she cares so much.
“Look at me.” She says again, her voice softer this time. Again, their eyes meet, and the undeniable truth of Adar’s strange behavior hits Galadriel like an avalanche. Something akin to emabarrasment has him flushing red, aware that Galadriel has finally made the connection.
Galadriel’s heartbeat thumps in her ears, a wave of burning hatred flows through her as she stands up, looking down upon her prisoner. Disgusting orc, she thinks, so clearly aroused by me. At least he has the decency for shame.
She sneers at him from above, unsure how to proceed. Her disgust for him is prevalent, but something burning at the core of her seems to take over as she reaches out her foot to knock his legs apart, revealing the bulge in his trousers. Horrified by her action, she steps back, attempting to speak, say something, anything, but no words come out.
“I…” Adar says, his raspy voice thicker than before. Yet another wave of disgust and hatred comes over Galadriel, and in haste she steps back, Adar squirms before falling silent, for there is nothing left to say.
Use this to your advantage, a little voice whispers in the back of Galadriel’s subconscious, interrogation is easier when the subject is relaxed, no? Besides… It could be fun.
Galadriel takes a moment to think, glancing down to Adar, who writhes in the intensity of her stare. She slowly takes out her other dagger, stowing Finrod’s blade, and inspects the inferior dagger. Sharp enough point, sturdy material. She flips it in her hands, and smirks down at the apprehension on Adar’s face.
Deliberately and agonizingly slow, she kneels before the prisoner. Now face to face, she reaches out, reveling in the flinch that Adar tries to suppress. She grabs his bound hands, and reaches them above his head, his arms stretched above him. She drives the inferior dagger in the wooden post that he leans against, just below the chain, preventing him from lowering his arms.
Adar’s mask of bored disinterest now takes over the apprehension on his face. Galadriel grins, a feral and fierce thing, ready to rip that fake composure from him. Trickles of doubt enter her mind, but she pushes them away, now committed to her course of action.
She withdraws her brother’s dagger, making a show of cutting the trousers from his legs. Oh, Finrod, forgive me… She thinks as she peels the clothing from him. Adar watches this carefully, but makes no move to stop her. Not that I would stop, it’s gone too far for that, Galadriel thinks with some regret.
Now he’s down to his underclothes, and Galadriel slips her right gauntlet from her hand, using her now-bare fingers to unlace his breeches. Without ceremony, she yanks his underclothes off of him, revealing his cock, painfully hard and leaking.
She gives it a quick pump, and Adar lets out a choked whimper, which makes the heat between Galadriel’s legs burn hotter. She trails her fingers down his length, past his balls, to rest on the opening of his asshole.
When Galadriel lifts her eyes back to Adar’s face, she sees a flash of some emotion cross his scarred face, but spreads his legs a little wider, almost shyly. She huffs a small laugh at his eagerness, victorious.
“Open.” She says to him, raising her bare fingers to his mouth. He sneers.
“You seriously expect me too–” Adar begins, but she shoves her fingers in his mouth, interrupting him. He makes a surprised noise, and attempts to bite her, but Galadriel pulls away too quickly for him to hurt her.
“Suit yourself.” Galadriel says, starting to enjoy herself. With no further preparation, her finger circles the ring of muscle around his hole, before pushing into him.
It’s a foreign feeling, her finger encased in a tight, wet heat. She feels him clench around her, as she slowly starts to pump her finger in and out. Adar’s breathing picks up, but he clamps his mouth shut. Galadriel grins, somewhat cruelly, as she attempts to wring noises from him. Something I once heard… Galadriel thinks, and experimentally tries to curl her finger, brushing against a certain spot.
Adar’s whole body shudders, and he groans, his breath stuttering for a moment. Galadriel feels a bolt of hot need rush through her, so she inserts another finger, not caring if it’s too soon. She needs to hear him come undone, all because of her.
He grunts slightly as she roughly inserts a second finger, but relaxes himself, as she curls her fingers again, nails scraping on his pulsing walls.
“Ahhf..” He moans, as she brushes his prostate. His voice is slightly higher now, even rougher than before.
Galadriel slows down, and adds a third finger now, Adar feeling so full, but not enough. He keens as she curls all three fingers, but then she slows down her pace considerably. Adar groans in dismay.
“Patience,” She teases smugly. A wave of guilt crashes through her, stop, another voice warns, but the heat Galadriel feels pooling in her core demands she continue. “Ask nicely.” She purrs, surprising even herself.
“Please…” Adar finally chokes out, cracks in his composure showing. Galadriel takes too much pleasure in this, her underclothes soaked in her wetness.
“Please what?” She asks lightly. He grimaces.
“Please, harder. Faster,” He begs, and Galadriel abides, her dexterous fingers finally fucking him at a harsh pace. “Ahh, thank you, Mast–” He moans out, but bites his lip and stops himself. Galadriel frowns, his unfinished sentence and its implications bothering her. But her thoughts are far too hazy too unpack that, and lust takes over, as she forces the words out of her mind.
Galadriel removes her fingers, Adar whining, actually whining, at the loss of stimulation. She fumbles with her belt for a moment, producing a wad of bandages from a pouch on her belt. She wraps the bandages around her hand, and grabs her brother’s dagger by the blade, its hilt extended. The thick pommel of her weapon presses at Adar’s stretched entrance, cold but very welcome.
She takes a moment to admire the squirming mess that she reduced the powerful warrior to, before slowly pushing in the hilt, sheathing it in Adar’s hole. He moans as she pumps the weapon in and out, finding a rhythm. She angles the object so each plunge of the hilt hits his prostate, breathy moans escaping him with every thrust.
His legs snake out from where they had been spread, and he wraps them around Galadriel’s waist, pulling her closer to himself.
Her other hand reaches out to encircle his neglected cock, stroking it in time with her thrusts. Galadriel’s skillful hands have him begging under his breath, and as his breathing grows even more unsteady, Galadriel expertly twists the hilt and her hand in such a way that Adar’s vision whites out, and he comes with a shout. Panting, he closes his eyes.
Galadriel removes her weapon from inside of him. She reaches down into her own breeches, one hand massaging her clit, and the other pumping in and out of her soaking wet cunt. She feels the oncoming orgasm almost immediately, and lets it take over her mind and body. She falls limply to the floor, laying on her back.
After a moment, her mind clears from the post-orgasmic haze. She glances over at Adar, who’s entire body has gone limp. She removes the dagger from the wooden post, letting his arms drop back down. He cradles himself with his newly freed arms, curling away from her.
Shit, Galadriel thinks with growing horror, what did I just do? As she watches Adar’s sleeping figure, a strange sense of pity wells up in her. He doesn't deserve my pity. Just my wrath. The only thing I regret was not interrogating him further, she tells herself.
But as she watches his chest rise and fall, she can’t help but feel as if she’d made a horrible mistake.