faemused | Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post

Her smile is answer enough, and she gently pushes him onto his back, leaning over to kiss him and stroking his chest with the palm of her hand. "First, I have a reputation to live up to." The words are a low, heated murmur against his mouth--and then she takes him in hand again, slowly teasing him.

She frowns, considering this as she drinks further. "I do not remember," she finally admits. "I have heard of such things happening, though I have not seen it myself."

For of course she has assisted at several births by now, as part of her training. And in the interests of research.

She looks up at Faramir, seeing him clearly for the first time since their interrupted dinner of...how long ago? Was it only the previous day? It seems far longer. And he looks exhausted, with careworn lines on his face despite his words of comfort. She can only imagine how she herself must look. The labour went on until dawn, she remembers. And what happened after the point where she no longer remembers?

"I frightened thee," Eowyn murmurs, only now realizing that he has had real reason for his fear this time, instead of the overweening hovering he has done for the past several months. She has heard more than one tale of a new mother bleeding herself out after a birth. Slowly--too slowly, for moving is so difficult!--she reaches for his hand, stroking the side of it with her thumb. "I am sorry, mðdleóf."

"You were a little occupied." He nods, holding her close.

"You did." He murmurs. "I feared, but you are stronger than I."

He goes easily, smiling up at her with love, gasping and arching up against her hand.

"Ai! You will end me too soon, if you do that!"

She sighs and closes her eyes, relaxing in the embrace, both giving and taking comfort from it. They lie together in silence for a time, grounding themselves in each other's presence.

"Well, is the result worth the effort?" Eowyn says finally, moving back a little so she may see his face. She wears a small smile. "Are you pleased with your son? Where is he?"

She chuckles throatily and kisses him again. Her motions are slow, for she aims to tease and frustrate rather than truly bring him to the brink, and has now done this enough to have an idea of where his limits are, what signs mean he is too close to an end. The way he breathes, the motion of his hips...it is all a language she has learned to speak.

He smiles back, moving to get up.

"Well, you certainly thought so last night! But then, you were half asleep, at the time. The wet-nurse took him so that you could get some actual rest - I will fetch him, so that you can look at him in the light of day."

The pleasures of her hands and lips are both old and new, and Faramir groans at the pace she sets, head falling back to thump against the bed.

"Eowyn!"

"Yes, my love?" she asks innocently, as though she does not know the reason why he cries out thus. Her eyes twinkle with mirth and satisfaction. In truth, she finds doing this to him almost as pleasing as the things he does to her. To know she has such power over him is a heady thing.

She grimaces just a little, for she remembers holding their son, remembers the name Faramir has given him, but beyond that she remembers little. It is a blur of exhaustion and pain and wonder all mixed. There is still pain, in truth, though she has not mentioned it.

But at that moment there is a light knock on the door, who proves to be one of the healers checking on them--not an apprentice this time, but an older woman, and behind her are servants bearing water and food and cloth. She reminds Eowyn and Faramir both that the lady has not eaten anything since the long hours of waiting before Elboron was born, and she will not heal if she does not eat as well as rest. Elboron sleeps for the moment, and she will do better to tend to her own needs before having him brought.

Eowyn wants to see her son, and her stubbornness is proverbial, but she has learned the perils of ignoring a healer's orders, not least because she expects obedience herself when it is she who gives such orders. So with a grimace, she submits, both to food and to an examination, and to a modicrum of cleaning such as can be accomplished while she is bedbound. And she does feel better for the last, and for a clean nightgown.

Faramir once more helps her to a sitting position, and she answers questions, including admitting to her pain and how drained she is. She and Faramir are both given strict orders as to her tending, what to eat, how long she is to wait before she tries moving, various activities she is absolutely not to attempt for some weeks (including, to Eowyn's utmost annoyance, riding a horse).

It takes more than a little time, and she looks more and more annoyed as the time goes on, for it all drains what energy she has. She only brightens when a soft cry from outside indicates that Elboron is awake, and being brought. Eowyn at once sets aside what is left of her broth and bread, her eyes fixed on the doorway.

"Tease!" He groans, hips twitching with the effort of staying still.

Faramir spends most of this time quiet, listening to what he can do to help her and agreeing with the midwives, deflecting when he can to prevent Eowyn's temper being pushed too far. It's information they need to know, and he quietly vows to take as much of the burden on himself as he can, but there are parts to motherhood that only a mother knows.

He smiles as Eowyn sits up, eyes fond as he moves to get up and fetch their son from the wet nurse to bring him to her.

"Good morning, Elboron." He offers his son a gentle finger, but is rejected with a wail.

"Ai! I think someone wants his mother." He adds wryly, returning to her side.

"I beg your pardon," she says primly, "for I am endeavouring to pleasure my husband." Her eyes twinkle with mirth as she uses his own words against him.

Eowyn is by now impatient and tired almost to the point of petulance, despite Faramir's gentle maneuverings. Fortunately the healers give each other a glance, and then another pointed glance at Faramir, a silent Make sure your lady wife finishes that meal and does not push herself too hard!, before taking themselves away again for a time to leave the new family in peace.

Eowyn smiles a little. "I think someone wants his milk, and does not yet know who I am," she says instead, unlacing the front of her gown before reaching to take the babe. It takes a few attempts before he latches on properly, and she winces a little when he does. "Ai, yes, I fear I was too right!"

"Turning my own words against me!" He gasps, reaching to pull her down to kiss.

He settles back behind her so she can lean against him and he can watch them.

"Well, he will learn soon enough who he needs for that! Are you still hungry, my love? I can help you if you are."

She laughs a little, though it quickly turns into a gasp of her own at the fervor with which he kisses her. She ends up half-spread over him, and from there it seems natural to shift so that she covers him entirely, straddling his hips. It is a position they have not yet been in, and Eowyn immediately discovers how she likes it, for they are pressed to one another in such a way that she may shift her hips so in a way that teases them both at once.

She breaks off the kiss, taking quick, shuddering breaths as she rolls her hips along him, exploring this new feeling. Her fingers clutch urgently at his shoulders. "Faramir--"

"No," she says. It sounds more irritable than she intended, and she sighs, leaning her head back in a silent apology. "I am not. But I know I should be. Still, I would rather not be spoon-fed like an invalid. Let it wait until Elboron has his fill."

She stares at their baby's face. His eyes are scrunched shut in concentration, and it is hard to see much of his features. Still, she runs a light finger along his forehead, around his earlobe. There is a dark dusting of hair on his head, showing his father's heritage. "This is very strange," she says quietly, after a long time. "To have waited so long for this moment, and finally to have arrived at it."

He kisses her shoulder fondly.

"I am not upset." He assures her. "You are tired and you patience sorely taxed. There is no rush."

He settles to watch, quietly content, and makes a soft sound of understanding.

"It is, aye. I can scarce believe tis real! But you are warm in my arms now, as he was last night."

Faramir is all too happy to continue kissing, but when she shifts to stradle him and then moves...!

"Eowyn!" He groans, hands coming up to grip her hips.

"Beloved if you mean to sit there like that I don't know how much longer I will last."

The feel of him gripping her hips only encourages her, and she bends let were to kiss him, lips pulling at his. "Let us see," she manages, and reaches between them. This time she does not tease when she takes him in hand, but at once positions him so she may take him in.

Slow, slow, agonizingly slow, but so sweet and intense, and then they are joined again. She shivers above him, adjusting to the feeling--then moves, careful as she lifts herself then descends once more, learning how to ride him.

He groans, striving to not move beneath her until she is settled, and he cries out as she starts to move.

"Eowyn,Eowyn!"

His anger bubbles over and he slams his clawed, gloved fist into the nearest structure, not really affecting it much. "You are more than that!"

She should know that by now. She's the one that taught him that he was more than the role he'd been shuffled into by fate. He's not going to let her try and take on every burden herself as well.

"Maybe the damn Inquisitor is needed, but let the damn Wardens clean up the mess they've been making for well over a thousand years!" He doesn't hate Stroud, but to see the man come out of the Fade with the Inquisitor instead of Marian and Teo was—still is—unacceptable. "What do you expect me to tell your sister? That you went stupidly noble and now she must mourn your loss as well as that of the rest of your family?!"

It's dirty and he knows it. He doesn't give a flying fuck anymore.

"Yes--" It's more a hiss between her teeth than a word, because this feels perfect, he feels perfect, this is what she wanted, all she wanted...she has all the control and that is a wonder, and she quickly learns how to roll her hips as she moves, so that all the places that most crave sensation receive it in turn. "Faramir, you--oh, my love--" Her hands rest on either side of his head, so she may hold herself in place above him, and whenever she opens her eyes she can see his face taut with the same ecstacy she feels. "Faramir--!"

She sighs, relaxing a little further against him. "I am fortunate, to have so understanding a husband." She turns her head and kisses his chin, which is the point nearest to her. "I am...very weary, I admit it, and my stomach is churning. I need more rest. But let me tend our son first, as I may."

One other thing the healers pointed out was that she will likely not have much milk of her own, not after such a difficult birth and with much healing of her own to do. Eowyn knows most noblewomen of Gondor would not attempt this at all even without those difficulties, but would rely on a wet nurse. It only makes her all the more determined. What she can do, she will do, even if it is difficult.

She shivers, however. "I do not feel warm," she admits, for she is chilled. "Though you do, and I am glad of it."

Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post

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mðdleóf = dear of heart/beloved

dawww

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hi more timeskip and some godwriting sorry

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Re: hi more timeskip and some godwriting sorry

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That's it. That's the canon.

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