He fought the urge to stomp up the stairs and instead made sure to tread lightly. He did not wish to disturb Nerdanel who, when he had left for his father’s home, was still in her workshop, bent over her latest project. He did not desire to interrupt her yet again with the annoyances of the extended family imposed upon him because of the poor judgment of the Valar. It was not often she found the time to devote to her craft since the birth of Macalaurë, and he was not going to deny her this opportunity for peace that she had found.
He reached their chambers and quickly pulled off his tunic, discarding it in the basket next to his dressing table. He was agitated, and needed to vent his anger and one of the best ways he knew how was in the forge. He pulled a worn old tunic out of a drawer, but stopped before he slipped it over his head, hearing singing coming from the bathing room.
He threw the tunic back in the drawer and crawled across the bed so he could see into the next room. Sure enough, there was Nerdanel in the large tub, soaping up her arms and singing the lullaby she often used to put Macalaurë to sleep. She leaned forward to grab the soap off the ledge and Fëanáro glimpsed the top of her breasts, still full after giving birth to two of his sons.
She was not aware of his presence and he watched her in silence for several minutes, the tightness in his pants growing, pushing all other tensions away. He could join her in the tub; strip his clothes and stride into the next room and make love to his wife. He smiled at the thought, but quickly discarded it, at least for the time being. She was simply relaxing in a bath after another hectic day; peaceful, content, innocent of all desire. He could change that, of course, but for now, he decided to sit back and watch.
She slid down in the tub, submerging herself completely. When she resurfaced, her coppery hair hung in waves cascading over her shoulders and across her breasts, which were now completely visible to Fëanáro. He began to unlace his trousers – just to ease some of the constriction that was slowly becoming unbearable. Nerdanel worked up lather in her hands and began to wash her shoulders, her neck – must she throw her head back like that, her breasts…
Fëanáro let his hand slide inside his loosened trousers, slowly rubbing himself as he watched Nerdanel run her hand over first one than her other breast. He did not realize he had made a sound until her head snapped towards him and she stopped what she was doing. A wicked smile spread across her face and she turned her head forward as if she had not seen him; as if she had not caught him watching her in the bath with his hand down his pants like an adolescent boy.
He sat there, frozen, trying to anticipate her next move and came up with nothing. Slowly, the smile never leaving her lips, she began to run the soap across her breasts again, but slower, more deliberately. Fëanáro ached with lust but hesitated to move – either to resume his own manipulation or to join her – wishing rather to see how far she would take her seduction.
He was not prepared for what she did next.
Arching her back, she ran one hand down across her stomach and out of his sight. He did not need to see where the hand went; from the moan that escaped her lips he knew exactly what she was doing. His own hand he slipped farther into his pants in order to free himself completely. He saw Nerdanel glance in his direction just as he began to slide his fist over himself. She caught his gaze briefly before closing her eyes and throwing her head back.
He could bear no more. Practically leaping from the bed, he strode towards the bathing room, kicking off his trousers as he went, almost tripping on them in his haste. When he reached the tub, Nerdanel gasped, feigning surprise at his presence.
“Fëanáro!” Her eyes traveled down his body to his arousal. She looked up at his face again and batted her eyes in mock innocence. “Surely you are not aroused by me simply cleansing myself.”
He stepped into the tub, placing one foot on either side of her legs, knelt down over her and sat back on her thighs.
“Do you always moan my name while bathing?”
He pushed his hips forward, pressing his length against her stomach. The water felt cool against his heatened skin and the sensation caused him to shiver. Nerdanel smiled brazenly at him.
“Only when I have an attentive audience.”
She ran her hands down his chest and across his stomach. One hand came to rest on his thigh and the other grasped his arousal, sliding up and down, starting out slowly then gradually increasing her pace. Fëanáro growled deep in his throat, the pleasurable feelings washing over him, causing him to buck his hips in rhythm with Nerdanel’s hand. Suddenly she stopped. Aching with longing, Fëanáro opened eyes he hadn’t realized he shut.
“Why must you tease me?”
“Surely you did not come over here for that which you could do yourself.”
Fëanáro laughed in eager anticipation, picking first one than the other knee up and placing them between Nerdanel’s legs. Sitting back on his heels, he ran his hands up her thighs, causing the water to ripple around her stomach. Instead of slipping a hand between her legs, he ran them both across her stomach and up to her breasts. Nerdanel closed her eyes and moaned, a slight smile gracing her lips. His left hand he traced back over her stomach and onto her thigh. With his thumb, he stroked the crease of skin where her leg met her body. Nerdanel whimpered and opened her eyes.
“Take me, Fëanáro. I know you want to.”
He smiled. “You think there is no retribution for mercilessly teasing your husband?” There wasn’t going to be much retribution; the way she looked with her eyes filled with lust, her skin flushed and her breath coming in short pants, he was quickly losing what little control he maintained over his body.
She wrapped her legs around his back and pulled him against her. He moaned and moved his hips in order to slide against her.
“Take me. Please.”
He needed no further invitation. Reaching his arms around her back, he pulled her up to him and kissed her roughly. She moaned into his mouth as he entered her. He tried to thrust further into her, but the slick bottom of the tub did not offer him any resistance. Growling his frustration and holding her tightly against him, he struggled to his feet and stepped out of the tub.
He did not make it to the dressing table that he intended to sit her on top of; the nearest wall seemed to suit his needs well enough. He pressed every part of his body against Nerdanel that he could, reveling in the feeling of her breasts against his chest and her stomach against his, as they moved together in rhythm. He felt a tightness in his groin, building, rising, until he knew he was close to climax.
“Nerdanel,” he panted, “Ai, Nerdanel!”
He felt his buttocks clench as he released, waves of pleasure emanating from his center, radiating out through his whole body. He thrust one more time before slipping out of her.
He kissed her mouth and took her hands in his. Walking backwards out of the bathing room, he led her towards the bed. He sat down and pulled her down next to him.
“Now I will take care of you.”
He felt her smile as he kissed her, his hand sliding once more down her stomach and between her thighs.
“Oh, Fëanáro,” she breathed out. He smiled against her neck. He would give her many occasions to cry his name this night.
“I hope you were not planning to sleep tonight.”
He got his answer when she reached out and took him in her hands again.
“I have other ideas for this bed.” He felt himself twitch beneath her hand. “As I do for all the other rooms in this house.”
Fëanáro threw her onto her back and those were the last words spoken for a long time.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.