[Silmarillion]: Of One Day, More or Less
It wasn’t that she minded the mess, but Fëanor did, and he would be coming home earlier, he had warned her. So aside from this, she would have to make something to feed him - he was inevitably ravenous after working in the forge - and herself, and the third in their family.
Nerdanel looked down at the small swell of her belly under her dress, still barely visible, but she smiled anyway. There was no discomfort, yet, only the joy that came with a young pregnancy and the added appetite.
For a number of things, really.
She spun the wheel again, shaping the wide bowl to smoothness. She would only crumple it when she finished - it was just for practice - but all the same, every piece deserved everything she could give it. Pulling her hands away to check if it was even, Nerdanel flicked her hair out of her face and looked over her shoulder.
With her head tilted just the right way, she could hear the ring of her husband’s hammer on metal. What he was forging, she didn’t know - he never liked her to see before he was done. “It’s not right,” he grumbled. “It doesn’t look perfect. I don’t show things to anyone before they’re done.” She had complained that he saw all of her unfinished and ruined and failing pieces, and she never had the chance to see any of his, and her husband had chuckled and told her that that was because he didn’t have any of them.
She wanted him to come home. Shifting uncomfortably on the stool, she was reminded of the itch that her body was feeling. Nerdanel wanted Fëanor to hold her and kiss her and-
She felt her skin getting flushed and heated and turned quickly back to her bowl, molding the edges more with her hands, but she was still thinking about the ring of the hammer she could hear, imagining the sheen of sweat on his face, hair tied back and arms bare, shoulders moving under the light shirt he wore in the heat of the forge…
Nerdanel shifted again, and pressed a hand against the swell of her belly, wishing she had someone to ask if this sort of desire was normal. Fëanor had not seemed inclined to touch her now that she was pregnant, and whether her found her new body repulsive or - something else, it was impossible to know, but it didn’t change the fact that she wanted, needed.
She crumbled the bowl, giving up on her work, and washed her hands clean. Looking out the window, she caught herself thinking about the night of their wedding, her hands nestled in his hair as his head bent to her breast…
Nerdanel went weak at the knees and fought not to whimper.
Sitting down on the couch, she drew the skirts up over her knees and brought her legs apart. She could feel herself flushing even though no one was watching and tried to relax. Bunching the skirts around her hips, she let one hand trail up her inner thigh to touch herself. She cupped her small mound and held very still, letting her eyes close for a moment before she slid two fingers between her own nether lips, rubbing against tender and heated flesh.
In spite of herself, Nerdanel moaned. She bit it off and looked down at her own hand, stroked herself again and imagined her husband’s legs around her, cock pressing at the small of her back as he held her legs apart with one hand and petted her skillfully with the other. She squirmed, feeling her loins warm and moisten under her touch.
Biting her lip, she searched for the small pearl inside folds of skin. It seemed nearly swollen, and just the touch of her own fingertip sent shivers all through her body. She rolled it between two fingers and quivered with delight. She bit off her own words, again, and moved her other fingers lower, to slip them into herself, and imagined it was her husband’s head nestled between her thighs instead, dark hair against her pale skin and his tongue teasing deeper within her-
She hadn’t heard the door open.
“Melinya?”
She froze, eyes closed. Skirts rucked up, dress spattered with clay, legs spread like a wanton and touching herself - she couldn’t be anything but a sight. Nerdanel opened her eyes, already feeling her face pinken more.
Fëanor stood in the doorway, staring at her. She looked back at him, helpless, lips slightly parted and only wanting more for having started herself. She was grateful, at least, that he didn’t ask what she was doing.
His next words surprised her, along with the husky tone of his voice. “I could have come home earlier.”
“I didn’t want to disturb you,” she said, breathless. He knelt, and it was so breathtakingly similar to what she had just imagined that she nearly stopped breathing altogether.
“What disturbs me is that you feel you can’t ask me,” he murmured, and brushed his hand along her leg before easing up to kiss her cheek. “I finished my project,” he murmured in her ear. “Now I have to wait for everything to set. You have me as much as you want for a few days.”
She shivered with pleasure and didn’t turn her head but whispered, “You haven’t wanted to touch me…at all…”
“I didn’t know you wanted,” he murmured, and just kissed her behind the ear. “If I’d known you needed me…my beloved wife, mother of my child…”
“I need you,” she whispered, and his hand replaced hers, fingers rubbing along her most tender skin. She gasped as he moved his kisses too slowly down her neck, teasing, though gently.
“I’m here,” he murmured, between every kiss and every probing touch of his fingers. “I’m here. I’m here.” With the softest of whimpers, Nerdanel let his hands and mouth and fingers take her away into bliss.