There was a time when he had not cared for the night, darkness a sanctuary only for the creatures that dwelled in it. Lacking the vigor of the day, neither travel nor sleeping were made safer by its arrival and his journey to Rivendell had exhausted him because of it. Even amongst his soldiers he had always slept lightly, the burden of his leadership not one easily set aside. The only sounds breaking its silence were treacherous and they woke him instantly, forcing him to keep company with the gloom until daybreak.
The encroaching darkness trouble him less and less as he traveled with this company, instead setting anticipation to simmer low in his belly, coupled with memories of a previous nighttime.
Hard hands forcing flexibility that he did not possess, the awkward humiliation of his spread legs being held high in the air. Nothing compared to his own disgrace at allowing it, and surely he would have protested those same hands sliding lower, fingers pushing inside him to twist ruthlessly over nerves that had never been touched thusly.
Would have protested, but for other hands, slimmer and ghostly pale in the darkness, that clasped his own and kept them pressed firmly to the ground.
Inhuman strength keeping him still, Elvish hands, and he still might have protested, might have tried to stop this indignity if the mouth of an Elf did not taste so sweet.
Coaxingly soft lips, whispering knowing words to him, insisting time and again that he must keep silent; he must not wake the others. Even when a mouth replaced fingers, the slick movements of tongue readying him for yet another invasion, did the Elf insist he must stay quiet.
He himself completed his disgrace by struggling to obey, twining his fingers with soft, strong ones and squeezing tightly as his body resisted what it was being given, unforgiving pressure opening him and surging within, hard hips pressing against his backside and he resented the stifled moan above him, that HE could be allowed a sound.
In revenge he bit down, catching a tender lip between his teeth and he did not release it until fresh bitter warmth welled into his mouth. Strange, it seemed, that the blood of an Elf would taste no different than that of a man, sweet copper, and he savored the brief taste of it, rolling it over his tongue until it vanished.
The Elf pulled back sharply when he was released, his face white as bone and visible even in the darkness. His tongue flicked out, tasting the marks left by the Man's teeth, and his smile as sharp as the knives he carried on his back.
He lowered his head again and it was only a moment before the flavor of their blood mingled, a shadowy liquor being passed eagerly from tongue to tongue. It almost disguising the lower pain, the violation being committed against him until it surged again, forging a path inside him.
Pressure rearranging him from within and he tried to move against it, still trapped by a cage of limbs, hands and arms keeping him still. His breath hissed between his teeth, carrying a feeble protest within it that was silenced once again by tainted lips.
"Keep silent." Hushed words, flavored with blood, and he obeyed shamefully, without question, giving himself to the night.
-finis-