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Maglor suffered the Sinda to kiss him, pressing his nasty tongue into Maglor's mouth. He was too rough, pinning Maglor into the wall in a way that only hurt, and Maglor forced himself not to flinch away as the Sinda’s hands roamed his body. At least this one was tall, and strong, with big hands, even if the hair was wrong. The hair was always wrong.
Maglor had not bothered to learn this one's name.
“Come on,” he said, in a tone that he hoped did not give away how distasteful he found it all. “Let's go to my rooms.”
The Sinda did not seem to notice anything, and though he grunted his displeasure at having to get off Maglor, he followed willingly enough.
Maglor had a room at a little inn, where they knew him and did not object to his more sociable ways. More importantly, it had thick enough stone walls that Maglor could sing and play freely, if quietly.
And whatever the people he brought back to his room said could not be heard.
As soon as Maglor locked his door the Sinda was on him, slobbering as he kissed him, his hands already between Maglor's legs. This time Maglor did not bother to hide his disgust, and the Sinda drew back in confusion.
Maglor took the opportunity to sing a long, high note, quietly enough that it could not be heard beyond the four walls of the room, but with enough power that the Sinda froze and went blank.
There, Maglor thought with satisfaction. The man was no longer touching him with his grabby half-breed hands, and before long -
The Sinda's head snapped up, and his whole bearing changed into instinctive confidence and authority. He looked like a whole new man.
Maedhros had won.
It was always a short battle, with the advantage of surprise and Maedhros's force of will meaning that they had never yet had a serious problem, however frantically the vessels fought. They never wanted to die, for a kind of death it was, with their minds destroyed and their bodies under someone else's control for good. Maglor would have had more sympathy had the Sinda not just been groping him.
Besides, if there was ever a real problem, there was always Maglor's Song.
“Hello, Kano,” Maedhros said, in a voice that was imperceptibly different to the Sinda’s. He looked himself up and down, and then moved over to the mirror to look at his face.
“Not bad this time,” he said, smoothing back his silver hair and baring his teeth in the mirror to examine them. “Handsome.”
Maglor smiled. He had not done so in a long time, he realised. He had missed his brother.
“I thought you'd like him,” Maglor said, coming up behind Maedhros in his new body to wrap his arms around his waist. He was not as tall as Maedhros had been in his own body, but then few were.
“And he won't be missed,” Maglor added. “I made sure of that. Just, when you're done with it, please dump the body somewhere more convenient than last time.”
He shuddered at the memory. That mess had taken a lot of Song and bribery and sheer good luck to sort out.
“All right, Kano, I'll be careful.”
Maedhros turned around and embraced his brother, and Maglor melted into his arms, strong and protective, feeling safe once again as he had not in years. It had taken him too long to find a vessel this time, but he had to be cautious. The kind of bodies he wanted usually had people who would notice if they went missing, and the last thing Maglor wanted was trouble.
“What's his cock like?” Maedhros asked, leaning down to lick Maglor's ear.
Maglor sighed musically at the sensation. “How should I know?”
“What, you didn't try him out first?” Maedhros drew back a little. “What if half his cock is missing like that dark-elf you found me in Eriador? I know you said it was some kind of Avari cultural practice, but you're not the one who lost sensation -”
“Well then, you shouldn't have killed yourself,” Maglor snapped.
Grumbling, Maedhros lowered his face to Maglor's hair, while at the same time thrusting forward to rub himself against Maglor. Maglor could feel his growing hardness.
“Couldn't you at least have picked him from the bathhouse like when we picked that Edain together?” Maedhros asked.
In more chaotic times, when war ravaged the land, Maedhros might more easily choose his new body before the current vessel had been destroyed. Maglor had very much relished the choice he referred to, as the Man had been particularly well endowed, although his weaker body had given in much more quickly than did the bodies of the Eldar. Still, it had been an enjoyable few years.
“At least it's not a woman, I suppose,” Maedhros continued.
“At least it's not the Void,” Maglor said pointedly.
Maedhros sighed. “Yes,” he said, “that too.”
Maglor waited.
“...thank you, little brother,” Maedhros said, faux-begrudgingly, and without waiting for another word, he picked Maglor up and settled him on the bed.
“I know you’ll enjoy finding out,” he said, and Maglor shivered with pleasant anticipation as Maedhros began to strip him methodically, though using only his left hand as he often did for a while after Maglor found him a new body. “Sometimes I think you prefer the variety.”
Maedhros's new face was a little bitter. Maglor did enjoy the novelty, it was true: but he would have swapped it all for red hair and one hand and scarred skin, for his brother's familiar body, his comforting smell. These new bodies never smelt quite like him.
But Maedhros would never believe that.
“I don't care as long as it's you,” Maglor said, kissing his brother's new face, his broad cheekbones and silver-lashed eyelids.
“Hmm,” Maedhros said, but he did not argue. “Shall I thank you properly now, my Kano?”
“Yes,” Maglor said, sighing into his brother's touch. “Yes, please.”