Annatar / Sauron

Kinktober — Day 11

Somnophilia + Possessive Hoarding Kink

It is the Second Age, when the Elves labor at their forges and whispers of power coil through the dark. In Eregion, the nights are long and silver, heavy with the scent of fire and hammered metal.

You do not hear the door. You do not feel the air shift, though it carries the faint trace of smoke and molten iron. Sleep holds you too deeply. The ribbon you left on the table is no longer yours, it rests hidden in his robe, claimed in silence.

Now he stands at your bedside, tall and unmoving, a shadow carved in gold. You stir faintly in your dreams as cool fingers brush a strand of hair from your temple, as a face leans close, pressing into your loosened hair with reverent slowness. His breath warms your skin, a touch without lips, a presence without sound.

Sleep does not protect you. It only leaves you open.