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A well-spent night off always started at the cocktail lounge for him. Mood lighting, a swath of interns from the tech headquarters two blocks down, downtempo electronic music. Halbrand frequents this place not because he lives in the upscale apartments above the establishment, but because of the atmosphere created here. The clientele it panders to. Fast and easy for his needs. People born and raised in Lothlórien turn their noses up at the gentrification he luxuriates in. It's the sort of place that sprung up because of the tech headquarters two blocks down.
He is comfortable. Back pressed against the leather of the modern barstool, eyes scanning over the crowd in search of one lucky young thing he’ll take upstairs tonight. A finger traces along the rim of his glass, idly running across the surface. He’s patient. He will continue to be patient.
A throat clearing beside him has Halbrand appraising a blonde little elf. Short thing, below his eye level even as he’s seated at the bartop. Crystalline eyes, smokey and sultry. Lips red and curved in a sly smile. Her body is shown off by an impressively short silver dress, tight and asking to be taken off. A dagger tattoo on her forearm, ornate and healed perfectly. She leans an elbow against the bar and her body tilts, long hair sliding over her shoulder and he catches the scent of her, clean like ice, light and sharply refreshing. His mouth waters.
“Hey, my husband and I saw you from across the bar and we couldn’t help but notice you. We really—”
It takes a moment for the words to register in his brain, so overwhelmed with the fairness of the elf before him. He looks her over once more, her left arm on the bar, dainty wrist leading to a daintier hand and there, on her fourth finger, a certified rock of a diamond set in a Mithril band.
Married.
She flicks her gaze across the open room, direct view across the counter. Halbrand follows, finds another attractive elf staring intently at him as this apparent husband sips from a tumbler. Shockingly light-colored hair nearly as long as his wife’s, lustrous and healthy and nearly glows against the deep navy of his suit jacket. High cheekbones, Patrician nose, feminine lips. He’s alluringly androgynous. His presence commands attention and Halbrand spots lingering eyes all over the lounge.
A threesome? Halbrand can hardly believe his luck. An equal opportunist when it comes to pleasure, Halbrand dabbles in sins of the flesh with any gender. A cock and a cunt at once? Perhaps it was suddenly his birthday? It’d been years since the last—
“—and, see, it’d just be me.”
Halbrand tunes back into what the elfling in front of him is saying, clearly missing vital details. Only her? But her husband—
“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” pitches his voice low, huskier than his typical timbre. His charm has come out to play, even though he knows he doesn’t need it, not with her.
“He’ll watch us, watch you fuck me.”
“Cuck him,” Halbrand summarizes, eyebrows lifting.
“Yes, exactly. Is that something that might interest you?”
Halbrand tucks his shaggy brown hair behind his ears, looks at this woman in the eyes, hard, tries to glean any amusement or mockery buried within her. Instead, he finds open want mixed with earnestness. He takes a drink, maintaining eye contact with her, catches her tracking the roll of his Adam’s apple as he swallows.
Try everything once, right?
He turns his head back to the husband across from them both, uses his head to motion him over with a quick jerk.
The woman, Galadriel, he quickly learns, smiles at him, wide and bright. The husband arrives next to them, a fresh drink in his hand offered to Halbrand. This is my husband, Celeborn.
~
Another skyrise across the city, the name of the building in clean slate lettering, a smartly dressed doorman greeting them. Halbrand lives comfortably, very comfortably, but this is a different tax bracket. Foreign white marble floors, echoing clicks of Galadriel’s designer heels reverberating against gold-foiled ceilings, a goddamn koi pond in the lobby; fat tricolor fish perusing lazily. A passing comment, from Celeborn, the loft is what we use for these sorts of things. Implies more real estate, this building disposable. Flippant ownership, iron-fist of genuine and unfathomable wealth.
Who the fuck are these two?
Fevered kisses initiated by Galadriel, tugging Halbrand against her in the elevator, Celeborn watching as he presses the button for a high-up floor. So direct, this elf. An appreciative nod in the mirrored wall’s reflections as Halbrand cups Galadriel’s face, matching her intensity. Halbrand fails to suppress a groan, hunger coiling low in his belly.
He doesn’t remember much beyond the feel of the warm body against him, wanting him, encouraging him. They’re all in the loft now, pale furniture with long and clean lines, art deco light fixtures, a blend of old and new that screams overpriced interior designer. Galadriel tugs on Halbrand’s hand and pulls him past the open and impressive kitchen. She leads him to the bedroom, half the walls are windows looking out over Lothlórien’s FiDi.
She drops his hand as Halbrand appreciates the space, a four-poster bed covered in a goose down comforter, soft cream in the moonlight. Jewel tone accents in the lampshades, decorative pillows, modern art. Tasteful and Not Lived In, Not Really.
It’s a part of the game.
Quick whispered words behind him, Celeborn joining him and Galadriel, his tie removed and top buttons of his dress shirt popped open.
The armchair in the corner of the vast bedroom is colored emerald like a dwarf’s treasure, undoubtedly velvet, understated wealth. Celeborn meanders, each step equal parts intentional and relaxed; the world waits for him, doesn’t it? Long platinum hair down his back that Halbrand is sure Galadriel yanks. It’s what he’d do if he were in Celeborn’s orbit. Taking a seat, Celeborn crosses one long leg over the other, knees sharp angles and aloft ankle tossing a foot back and forth languidly, a panther lying in wait before prey. A fixed expression on his face, almost serene. His hands are delicately laid on his top leg. An index finger lifts, signaling the start.
“Go on, have a taste. She’s lovely.”
A touch dragging across Halbrand’s back has him turning his head, finding Galadriel smiling demurely, a faint blush splashed across her cheeks. Boldly, her touch slides to the front of Halbrand’s trousers, squeezing him firmly, and he swallows a curse. So small, her hands—matches the rest of her. She barely clears his sternum. All Halbrand can think is how small and tight her cunt must—
“So big. He’s larger than you and he’s not even hard yet, Celeborn. You wonder why I need someone else to please me? I’m sure Halbrand will give a demonstration,” her voice is mocking, little sharp knives flung at her husband across the room. A soft hum from her husband, a pitiful sound, ignites Halbrand. He wants to make him whimper, maybe cry. Something primal awakening within him to assert dominance, fuck a man’s wife in front of him and emasculate him for all he’s worth. Hot air blows from Halbrand’s nostrils and he is turned into a Bull.
Grabbing her hair at her nape, Halbrand yanks her head back, leers over her, meets his lips to hers, devours her. A throaty moan from under him diverts his blood from its regular circulation to his fast-growing erection, the swelling flesh pressing against Galadriel’s palm.
“I’ll show him what it means to be fucked, Galadriel. Hasn’t a clue how to ruin you, does he, little one?” the pet name slips out before he can stop it, and Galadriel’s eyes light up.
“Ruin me, ruin me so that my useless husband can sleep knowing his wife has been well-fucked,” she croons, unzipping Halbrand’s pants and freeing his cock, aching and ready for her attention.
Pushing her back towards the bed, Halbrand’s hands travel all over her, pushing straps down, squeezing the curve of her ass, pulling her hair. Her dress is yanked off and he nearly falls to his knees at the revelation she was bare beneath it, cunt out and ready even at the bar.
“Eyes on me,” Halbrand commands, grabbing her chin and forcing her to focus on him. She nods, crawling backwards across the bed, Halbrand following her, a beast on the prowl.
Hovering over her, this impossibly small thing for a grown elf, she’s an elfette, elfling. Halbrand is overcome with complete calm, determined to wreck her. She helps him out of his clothes, tossing them over the edge of the bed into the veritable abyss beyond the sheets. He kisses her again, teeth nipping at her and her legs wrapping around his waist, his hard cock hot between them.
He trails down her neck, supple skin becoming littered with little bites set to bruise. Halbrand reaches his destination, her pussy laid out before him like a feast, strip of golden curls beckoning him to the promiseland. Spreading her legs, pushing them up and pinning her in place with his weight, he watches her cunt blossom, shiny wet begging to be lapped up. Glancing up, he watches Galadriel’s chest heave, anticipation written across her features. He unleashes himself upon her.
“Please, please—oh, Halbrand! ” Her voice cracks, caught off guard by him covering her clit with his mouth and sucking, pulling animal sounds from her throat, a keening whine.
“Fuck—oh god, are you paying attention?” Galadriel wheezes out, imploring her cuck of a husband to take notes.
“Yes, Galadriel. Does he…is he making you feel good?”
“Yes! Ah, ah, yes!” Her hands bury themselves in Halbrand’s hair, twisting in the brown locks as he laps at her cunt, a cat and his bowl of cream. Her wedding ring snags at strands, pulls them out in delicious sparks of pain. He pillages another man’s property and relishes in the feel of it.
“Better than me?” Celeborn’s voice is distraught, pathetic.
“By leagues. ”
Tired of her talking, Halbrand bites her inner thigh, recentering her on him and how it’s he who is making her legs shake, how it is he who makes her voice break off, how it is he who will make her come in two minutes flat.
Licking her from cunt to clit, he brings a hand to her entrance, tests it with his middle finger. Fights the crushing squeeze around the singular digit, and fuck, he’s gonna need considerable help getting her open. How small was Celeborn really?
“Gonna have to work you over to get my cock in you, little one. Does your husband ever fuck you? You’re tighter than an underage virgin.”
“Of course I fuck her,” calls Celeborn, offended.
Galadriel giggles before the sound morphs into a moan. Halbrand quickly withdraws his hand and sucks two fingers into his mouth, the nectar of her pussy flooding his taste buds and then efficiently working them both back into her, scissoring them open. He’ll carve a space inside her if he must.
Pumping in and out, his hand is quickly coated in her slick, moans and praise tumbling from her mouth. She is warm and pliant, would do anything he asks. Drags his fingers across the spongy space deep within her and then she’s warm and pliant and coming , weak mewls filling the air.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Show me how much you love coming on my fingers. So good for me, being such a good example for your husband.”
She rides the waves of her climax, body twitching, begs for mercy. Halbrand relents, sitting up and resting back on his heels, kneeling before her.
“That…” she trails off, head still in the clouds.
“We’re just starting, Galadriel,” his voice promises boundless pleasure. Sidling up to her, his pelvis to the back of her thighs, he takes a steadying breath before beginning the process of truly fucking her.
Grasping his cock, he lines it up with her entrance, breaching her body with just the tip, forcing her to concede to his intrusion. He’s half an inch inside and she’s squirming, silent protests to the stretch.
It’s not for show when she whines out a shaky s’big, so big, slow, please go slow Halbrand, you’ll split me in two. A thumb at her clit as he pushes in another inch, the fat head of his cock safely inside. Christ, the feel of this elf. He pulls back out, gives Galadriel a moment to breathe, her eyes wide as saucers.
“That’s not going to fit, Halbrand.”
“We’ve hardly started trying, little one,” he replies, incredulous, then slowly works his way back into where he was before.
“Oh, oh,” Galadriel pants as Halbrand continues on, pushing further into her wet core. Her own body greedily tries to suck him in deeper, but he keeps his slow pace, pulling out and sliding back in as she opens for him, adjusts to him.
“Tightest little cunt I’ve ever had,” He groans, hardly halfway after several long minutes. Galadriel is babbling beneath him, cock drunk and desperate for more more more. Her nails claw at his chest, her knees squeezing his sides. Spunky and wanting, this married elfette under him.
“Please,” faint and slurred, Halbrand nearly misses her small plea as he makes his way to three quarters down his shaft. His shoulders fall, head tipping back towards the ceiling.
“Fucking hell, ” Halbrand grinds out, furiously working Galadriel’s clit with one hand as he lifts her leg with the other, high on his waist now.
“I’m gonna, how am I, oh— ” Galadriel falls apart as another orgasm tears through her, clamping down on the nearly-fully-there cock. Halbrand’s breath leaves in a whoosh, lungs empty.
This must be Valinor, the Undying Lands, because Halbrand has reached Nirvana as he feels Galadriel try to milk the majority of his length. He’d marry her if she wasn’t already bound to another. Her body divine, her moans a siren’s call, her taste the sweetest of wines—
“Hal—Halbrand. I can’t. I can’t take anymore,” Galadriel confesses, half-lidded eyes looking at him through thick eyelashes.
“You can, you will. We’re almost there,” Pulls out until only the tip remains inside her, pushes back in, less careful this time. Repeats this again and again, increasing speed with each cycle, leaning further over Galadriel, juxtaposition of their bodies never made more clearer than when he puts his hand low on her torso; under her belly button. He presses down, right over her cervix, heel of his palm so close to her clit, right there but not quite providing relief. His fingers splayed, covering the diameter of her with ease, hip to hip.
“Feel that? Feel me moving inside you, little one?” Galadriel’s face screws together, eyebrows scrunching, eyes squeezed shut. She feels Halbrand’s cock slide within her, so deep, feels it drag under the press of his hand. He knows it elevates the sensation, and the feel of his cock beneath his palm makes him feral.
Grabs her leg again, tosses it to his shoulder, presses further against her and picks up his speed. More, he can give her more, he can take more. He has no limit to drawing pleasure out of her. He moans too, loud and deep, appreciating the reactionary tightening of Galadriel’s cunt to it.
Shifts his hips, just a little, and—
“Don’t—don’t stop, please, right there right there right there, ” Galadriel pleads with him, and Halbrand continues, punishing her tight hole with brutal strokes, bed posters creaking, headboard rhythmically slamming against the wall behind her. Her left leg over his shoulder, stretched impossibly far over his expanse, gives Halbrand that extra bit of room to slide fully into her. The feel of being fully sheathed within her tiny cunt kicks Halbrand into high gear.
It is dirty and frenzied and sweaty. Halbrand fucks her. He fucks her so ardently he hardly registers the primitive grunting she elicits from him, a bull in earnest. So tight so tight so goddamn bloody tight.
“Fuck, baby, you’re so hot, taking me so deep like the little cockslut you are,” Halbrand nearly explodes as she clenches wholly down around him, a fan of his filthy words. An idea, half-baked and insane, slithers through his brain and then he’s leaning down, pressing against Galadriel’s body, pushing her leg higher, nearly smothers her and her petite frame as he brings his mouth to her delicately pointed elf ear, her breaths reduced to shallow gasps.
“It’s just me and you, little one. Just us. Feel that? Feel how hard you make me? Does your cunt like how hard I fuck it? Should’ve met ten years earlier and then you wouldn’t be needing other men to get off, you’d have me every night. I’d chain you to this fucking bed and have my dirty way with you. These legs would only open for me. Your orgasms would all be mine,” the last words are bitten out in little more than a growl.
A sharp cry, Galadriel’s response to his words, then a hiccup, and Halbrand pulls back just enough to see tears in her eyes, overwhelmed and spring-bright, her chest flushed. He feels it then, the tell-tale flutter of walls, he has her. He has her.
“C’mon, sweetheart. Come for me. Come on this cock,” he taunts her, leans back down and whispers again, “come on this cock like a wife should.”
“ Hal—” and she shatters around him, wrecked and sullied and beautiful, fast and loud cries of pleasure, timed with the shudders within her cunt’s walls.
And fuck, she could hardly get his name out, and he imagines, just briefly, that it’s his ring on her finger, just them, always just them. A strangled moan jumps out of him as he gives one more mighty thrust before spilling deep inside her, frozen in shock at the sheer power of his orgasm. He rides it, soft moans from Galadriel as she feels him empty himself within her, nails scratching down the sides of his neck.
Panting, Halbrand rakes a hand through his hair, sweat running from his hairline. He leans back, surveying his work. Galadriel lying beneath him, chest heaving, pert nipples catching his gaze. But he pulls his attention back to her face and there, in her eyes, is astonishment. Bewilderment. She’s stunned into silence and Halbrand is made abundantly aware that it isn’t an act, and isn't part of this little game between her husband and herself. His prowess has utterly shattered her. He bitterly fails trying to squash his radiant smugness.
He pulls out of her, cock softening and a mixture of spend leaking from her. He hears a belt being unbuckled and footsteps behind him. Callused fingers at his chin and he’s nose to nose with the humiliated husband. A look of deep gratitude towards Halbrand has him glancing at a spot beyond Celeborn’s pointed ear, shy at the earnest emotion sketched on the other man’s face.
Firm and chaste, warm lips are suddenly pressed to his. Celeborn. Before Halbrand can react, Celeborn pulls back. A whispered thanks and then the husband crawls before his wife, kissing up her leg, begging her forgiveness on his apparent shortcomings. Let me prove to you how much I love you, Galadriel, please, I can make you come too, let me show you—
This weird purgatory in the night’s timeline, Halbrand slides off the bed, angles towards his discarded clothes so he can slip from the room. His head still spins with Celeborn’s kiss and maybe he should stay, maybe Celeborn would consider sucking him off, a sweet dessert—but what was the protocol here? They hadn’t really discussed the after of this, only the during. Halbrand decides it best for him to leave quietly. He hears a breathy giggle from the woman he was just balls deep in as her husband begins to fuck her, and he loves being called sloppy seconds, Celeborn the Consolation Prize.
Halbrand stumbles into a rideshare Prius, sexually sated in a way that only a newfound kink can bring. Both impressed and awestruck at the evening’s revelation, Halbrand curses for not leaving his number written down somewhere. Hopes the couple that brought him home for their fantasy frequent the lounge they found him in.
And there, on the side of the highway that’ll take him back to his gentrified home, is a billboard dedicated to promoting the tech company whose headquarters are so close to him. A message from the CEO, face open, soft smile, hair tied back from his face, arms crossed and wedding band on display.
No need to leave his number at their home, Halbrand expects to find an NDA in his mailbox by noon.