Unsettled Manwë immediately decided to see for himself if the rumors were true. Flying with the wind over his land, he searched for the direction he knew Fëanor lived with his sons. Usually he gained knowledge by listening to prayers. When the Children called his name, he gave them his ear. Rarely they suffered from something he could help with but Manwë always at least try to listen to their worries.
With Fëanor and his family it was different, of course. The Noldor invoked the Valar's names far less than the Vanyar. Manwë only heard his name coming from Fëanor's lips when he cursed him.
Yet in the last few weeks there had only been silence. Not a single word, not even a whisper. Manwë worried and kept searching. It took him a while to reach the place Fëanor had settled with his children. It was a small town of miners and craftsmen. Who wished to work in peace without having to worry of others stealing their ideas. Understanding feelings like greed and envy was still beyond him, but Manwë tried. He had learned much every since the Children came to Valinor and hoped they would continue to teach each other.
Where is he? Manwë wondered and debated on asking Varda if she had seen the Noldor prince.
The wind hadn't brought him any news so far if Fëanor took his sons into the wild lands again. It frightened Manwë every single time, but the Elder King hoped they knew to ask for his aid.
Since his sharp ears guided him a sound pulled him in one direction and Manwë followed. He was incredibly relieved to hear Fëanor's voice. It meant he was alive and well far better than Manwë dared to hope if he judged to passionate voice.
Finally Manwë's journey ended when he landed on a balcony by wrapping a body around his self. Like always it mildly disturbed him to take form in a solid body. But experience told the Children preferred a face.
Carefully Manwë pulled himself upright searching for balance. When he finally stood secure enough he balled his hands into fists. Hands were always a curious thing, just like his eyes. Taking in his surroundings, Manwë noticed it was far darker than usual. After a while Manwë concluded it must be night. Laurelin's light gleamed in the distance. Sometimes he forgot not every Noldor lived in Tirion.
Manwë cast a glance to the curtains separating the room from the balcony he landed on. To enter unannounced was rude but he wished to see if Fëanor was alright. If he was concerned for his health, did it make this an emergency? Unfortunately Manwë already stepped inside before he realized he could've knocked at the front door.
Before he could back out unseen, Fëanor and one of his sons had already spotted him. Their conversation stopped immediately and Manwë saw incredulous their gaze were.
„I apologize for barging uninvited,“ Manwë said. And looked at Fëanor, taking in his form to reassure himself he was unharmed. „But worry about your safety drove me.
Fëanor's son snarled and Manwë was hard pressed to say who exactly he was looking at. Not the eldest, the eldest had red hair. Fortunately for him Fëanor didn't lose his composure. His first action to put a hand on the shoulder of his son.
„Steady,“ he whispered to his son. Probably not knowing Manwë's ears were sharp enough to hear them. „Keep you temper, Curufinwë. Leave. I'll take care of this.“
„Father,“ the son protested in near silence. „Should I really leave you alone with him after what happened?“
„Súlimo isn't Melkor,“ Fëanor answered. Manwë felt relief that the prince knew the difference despite his reservations and opinions about the Valar,. „For one he's easier to handle and even if not, I want you with Telpë. Stay with him until you brothers return at dawn.“
Manwë had trouble to make out Curufin's answer in the darkness. Guessing the son just nodded since the younger elf left the room with even sparing Manwë a second glance. Only when the door had fallen shut, Fëanor slowly turned his head to inspect Manwë. Bright eyes traveled down his body and lips curved into a smile.
„I take you have reasons for visiting me at such an hour?“ he asked frankly.
Fëanor's lack of charm and usual careful crafted politeness took Manwë aback. He answered, „I received news my brother darkened your doorstep. I couldn't help but to check up on you.“
Fëanor smiled when he crossed the distance.
„It is true Melkor saw it fit to visit us, but even he had the courtesy to knock at the front door,“ he said. And took Manwë's chin into his left hand.
Manwë wished to growl at the thought Melkor had threatened the House of Fëanor. Rumors of the encounter flew around pretty soon. They ranged from Melkor attacking with powerful spells to Fëanor banishing Manwë's brother from his land. The Elder King couldn't stand the thought of Melkor threatening Fëanor. Or his brother approaching the prince in any kind of form or way.
„He has no right to do so,“ Manwë hissed. „Melkor was released on the condition to stay in Valmar. He shouldn't disturb you and frighten your children.“
By the mentioning of this children Fëanor's face darkened dangerously.
He gripped Manwë's chin tighter. „I'm more than capable of dealing with your brother, Manwë.“
With a sneer he added, „At least Melkor knew how to dress himself.“
Startled Manwë looked down, following Fëanor's gaze. He was naked. A blush crept over his face. Once again he forgot the children preferred clothing, keeping nakedness to a bare minimum The few times Manwë needed a body there were always servants waiting to offer garments.
„I forgot,“ Manwë realized slightly embarrassed and fought the urge to cover himself.
Before he could apologize and ask for pants, Fëanor pressed him against the wall. Confused Manwë looked at the Elf, who had taken his wrists to hold them above his head. Manwë bucked against the restrictions of his freedom. Fëanor just tightened his grip, shoved a knee between his legs and pushed them apart.
„Do you think I'll let you go this easily, Súlimo?“
Fëanor pressed himself against Manwë who no idea how to responded to intimacy.
„You barge into my house stark naked as if it's your own. You frighten my already startled son and then expect to face no consequences?“
„Punishment?“ Manwë tensed.
He couldn't think since fingers traveling over his naked chest distracted him. Of course Manwë knew about the intimacy elves liked to share with each other. No matter what sex or occasion, but he had never pursued the experience himself. Perhaps he should've. Perhaps he wouldn't felt so vulnerable in front of Fëanor right now.
„Well, I think teaching you a little humility will suffice,“ Fëanor corrected himself.
To take advantage of a creature that was millennia older than him seemed impossible. Even if Fëanor knew that Valar in general failed to comprehend the nature of evil. The combination of Manwë's innocent confusion and yet eager response was just cute. Fëanor could hardly let the Vala leave in such a state. Especially he was sure Melkor would hear about this.
Best to prevent the worst of all possibilities. Since Fëanor knew that nothing about Melkor was good or innocent. Something ugly settled in his gut, when he imagined the Dark Vala in his own place. The thought only three Valar voiced suspicions when Melkor got released outraged him.
„I've never done this before,“ Manwë's confession sounded through the room. „Not like this.“
„Doesn't matter,“ Fëanor answered. His lips traveled down Manwë's neck while he pressed the Vala against the wall. „You'll learn soon enough.“
Manwë moan was soft when Fëanor stroked the Vala's dick. It was amusing to see how Manwë entered the room half hard already - interrupting his conversation with Curufin in an instant. Watching Manwë's breath quicken was even better. For someone who's experience with pleasure was far and few, touch would feel overwhelming.
„Please. Please,“ the Vala asked but Fëanor doubted he knew what for.
Yet there was only pleasure written into Manwë's face. Fëanor couldn't help but wonder. What Manwë would look like if someone nailed him into the sheets? When Manwë continued to arch into his touch, Fëanor realized he'd know before the night was over.
„You should appreciate the irony. You'll get for free what your brother couldn't ask for.“
Fëanor tsked with a smile and lead Manwë to the bed.
A curious adventure followed - for Fëanor. For Manwë it was a terrific journey, leaving the Valar shocked and exposed. But anyone would feel shy and nervous around this Elf, Manwë reasoned.
In a dark corner of his mind he wondered. Did Fingolfin always felt like this – smothered, shaken and unable to breath free? Had Finwë's second son also felt neglected when Fëanor turns his attention elsewhere? When he stopped looking into Manwë's eyes and made him spread his legs instead?
Manwë gasped, offended how his own body betrayed him. Fëanor instead moved with confidence and shows displeasure when Manwë flinched.
„I can't. I can't,“ Manwë hiccups. Fëanor feels big, the sensations assaulting the Vala are intense and far too fulfilling.
„Yes, you can,“ Fëanor whispers amused. Snapping his hips, he looked down to see his cock disappear into Manwë. Foggy eyes lost their focus. The gaze turned distant as soon as the first finger slipped into the crease of Manwë's ass. Now the Vala tried to move forward into Fëanor's hand and back onto his dick at the same time.
Pleasure pushed its way through Manwë's body and his mind disconnected from it. No clear thought entered his head that night. And even years later Manwë was hard pressed to say how long or how often Fëanor had fucked him.
His only clear recollection would be Fëanor looking at him with satisfaction and something akin pride. Certainly not desire, more like lust and dominance - though it took the Elder King a long time to admit it. In the morning Manwë's corporal form dissolved on its own, as soon as he feel asleep. Neither Manwë nor Fëanor ever spoke of what happened. The time their were both still alive was incredible short anyway.
The day came only when only Manwë was left to share the secret, he found he could not even tell his wife.
Perhaps some of his siblings suspected a deeper connection between them. Sometimes Oromë would shake his head in pity. Aulë's mood turned sour with disgust when Manwë spoke Fëanor with regret and longing.
As damaging it was Manwë needed to keep the Spirit of Fire alive. And their night together. The hope remained that the sense of neglect and isolation would ease with time. But the feeling of Fëanor's ownership over him never returned.
Manwë wept the day Fëanor discarded Valinor. Its promise of protection in exchange for a path leading into darkness. A path that always ended in Mandos Halls. No matter how many times the Valar asked himself what if.