DA's Haven

Disclaimer: They are not mine so poopoo on you!! Tolkien is a lucky stiff…literally!!

A/N: Normally, I am…well very against parental abuse and rape. I try not to write it because I’ve never experienced…never will either. But I saw this pic and something struck me. It cried out to me to be written. And so, to honor the muses and the incredible art that brought it out, I shall write it. But do note…if father taking his son against his will is not your cup of tea…leave now. I mean it. I will not put up with people who can’t hit the back button. It would be an insult to me and to the artist who found fit to bring something that should be acknowledged more often in life. So *bows to MA who betaed this* my dear, thank you for betaing. Maya_aino…thank you for being talented in your calling for art. I hope that you like this.

He is coming again. I can hear his breathing and I find my own increasing. My stomach roils, but I am not sure as to why. Is it fear? I do not know if it is. I love my father and he always cares for me. He tells me he loves me, so why should I be afraid?

I can remember when I was young being held by him, feeling so safe in his arms as he rocked me and sang softly to me. He would caress my arms and shoulders, never going anywhere else…until I became older.

I do not like where his caresses go now. They are…in places that they should not be. I see him doing the same to mother and she smiles when he does so. So why do I not smile? It is a sign of love…is it not?

Perhaps it is more than that. Mother avoids talking about it, tittering like the birds we hear outside of the house as she puts me off with some platitude or such of ‘when I grow up’. So it must mean that it is something for adults. So why does father touch me like that when I am not quite old enough?

But…I like it as well. I feel so…cherished as he brushes his hand over my chest slowly, eyes so intent on me that I feel like I am his only important person. He smiles at me, sometimes the same way he smiles at mother and I shiver inside. But I still cannot tell if it is fear…or something else.

I know I am growing. Every day, mother says how much I look like father and he is, to me, a very beautiful Elf. I see others admiring him as well and wonder if those eyes will turn to me as well someday. Do I want that? Aye, I do. Even as young as I may still be, I understand those looks.

I hear the door open to my room and look up from where I am sitting on my bed. I smile as I see father, feeling warmth well up within me as he returns my smile. But I feel uneasy as something comes into his smile. Something…predatory. Why do I feel my stomach roiling again? Is it because something is different? He always visits me before I go to bed. So what is wrong this time?

He sits on the bed next to me, watching me intently as he speaks softly to me. I cannot focus on him though as his hand moves on my thigh, slowly working my night shirt up. I squirm and slide away, confused as I look at him. He smiles softly at me again and I want to relax, but I cannot as he comes closer to me, his own night shirt slipping off.

My mouth is dry and my heart hammers as he touches me. I stand quickly, backing away as I put my hands up defensively before me. This is wrong! I know it now! Why does he touch me as he does mother?

A whimper escapes my throat as he stalks towards me. Yes, stalks…that is what it is, for now I am the prey. I bump into my desk and lean back, panting in fear. I do not wish this! Why is he doing this?

He comes so close to me, hands on either side of me as he smirks at me. I shiver at the look, feeling sweat and tears leak out of me as he brings a hand up to cup my face, wiping away a tear. He murmurs softly to me, reassuringly, but I do not feel reassured. He runs his hand down my chest, rubbing it soothingly and I feel a sob hiccup out of my mouth as I look away.

My night shirt falls to the ground, but I cannot stop it. I want to cover myself, but he turns me so I cannot. He presses up behind me and I feel him…I feel him poking in between my buttocks; a bold caress in a place that should not be touched by him. He runs his hand down my chest like he always does, but now it is a gross gesture, lined with a sickness that I cannot avoid. He wraps his hand around my flaccid member and I tremble, sobbing softly as I plead with him to stop. His arm comes up to brace against my neck and my head falls forward, my hair curtaining me from the shame as I react to his touch.

But his touch slips away eventually, traveling away from my privates as he caresses me gently along my thigh. My hand falls onto his thigh as he presses close and I breathe deeply, trying to relax as he murmurs to me lovingly. His love…I feel it so strong as he holds me close. Can this be wrong? Perhaps I am wrong. I do not resist as he presses something slick and slender against my anus, pushing into the hole there. I gasp softly and his lips brush over mine, taking away the breath that becomes caught in my throat as my head falls back briefly.

Our eyes lock and I see the love I know he has for me and he smiles at me again as his finger presses farther in. I relax and lean forward, breathing deeply as he instructs while he pushes in another finger. I feel stretched and it hurts, but I trust him. Another finger enters me and I whimper, pleading for him to stop as it hurts me, but he shushes me, his voice rough.

His fingers leave me suddenly and I whimper again. He braces himself once more with his arm across the back of my neck and a hand on top of my head, growling lowly at me to stay still as something large and blunt is put where the fingers had been. I panic as I feel it push in and cry out, trembling as my muscles try to repel it and pain shoots through my body. He bends me forward as he pushes into me and I weep softly, feeling myself tear as he begins to move within me.

I plead for him to stop, feeling the pain wash over me repeatedly as I struggle to extract myself from his now suffocating hold. He moves faster, panting as he swells within me and pushes me forward, bruising my thighs on my desk. I cry out in pain and shame as he shudders and wet warmth fills my insides, coursing slickly down my inner thighs. He collapses against me, pressing me onto the desk as he recollects himself before pulling from me. He takes me to bed and drops a rag on me so I can clean myself off, but I cannot react. I feel dirty…used. Betrayed. He leaves me and I curl up in my bed, numb on what had happened.