Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post

[questionablewit]

Want to tag someone? Tag someone. Put the character you want in the subject line.
Leave a starter, or leave a prompt and I'll start.
Brilliant ideas and clueless flailing all welcome.
AUs and cross-canon, drama and comedy and shipping.
Just throw stuff at me. It's all good.

Comments

[theywhowait]

He shivers at her tone of voice.

"Well. Um. I don't... have exeperience in such things beyond... er. Research in the library." He is totally not kidding about that by the way. "But I believe there are... um. Methods. Involving fingers. Or ... lips?"

[freo]

"You speak wisely as always, husband mine," Èowyn nods sagely at the solution he presents, feeling a little flutter in her chest at calling him such aloud-- not to mention the press of his lips against her sensitive palm. She still has some trouble believing this is actually real, but Faramir's arms around her are strong and his body warm and solid as she presses further against him. Definitely real!

"My talent does, after all, lie with action. Though I can say I find I very much enjoy calling you my husband now, long at last. And knowing we needn't spring apart from an embrace like a pair of naughty children caught red-handed no more."

Their thoughts clearly coincide in this. Her free hand that had been resting against his chest slips up, her fingers brushing teasingly against the bare skin at the base of his throat, peeking out from the collar of his doublet. She grins, eyes alight with fondness, mirth and some sentiment far more sensuous. "Oh, indeed, I think I shall relish that knowledge most of all!"

[freo]

Closing her eyes as Faramir kisses her brow, Èowyn takes comfort in the tender gesture and the quiet moment between them before he pulls away, her hand brushing against his sleeve as if in silent farewell. Her gaze finds his in the dark, and she smiles a wan, small smile in return.

"Good." The whisper-soft, simple word holds within a deeper meaning; Do not give up on me just yet. There are no promises that she can make him now, her slowly changing and thawing heart still in throes of confusion and grief, but she does understand that seeds of something important have been sowed into fertile ground, after this night especially. She knows that Faramir understands it too, and far better than her besides.

But no, it is not yet the time. Hoping to distract them from this particular line of thought, Èowyn wipes at the corner of her eye to rid herself of some lingering moisture there and makes an effort to smile with a slightly more teasing mien-- tempered as it still is by the gravity of what just happened.

"Will you share some of that wine, Gondorian? 'Tis not mead, but it will do."

[whattheydefend]

Husband. That would seem more proof that this is a dream rather than a reality, that Èowyn of Rohan should be standing in his arms, radiant and calling him husband. "You cannot enjoy saying it more than I like hearing it." His breath hitches a little as she runs her fingers over his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing up in response. "And I think we shall find many more things to enjoy in each other, this night. And all days and nights after."

She is right; the privilege of not needing to fear being caught from here on out is likely to go to his head. And hers. He chuckles at that thought and echoes her movement, trailing his fingers lightly along her collarbone, just above the neckline of her dress. "Though I should perhaps bar the door first." Which does mean releasing her, which he is most loath to do, even knowing it would be brief, so despite the words he makes no move towards the door. She is warm and willing and her body is pressed fully against his, and in that circumstance all he can do is kiss her again, as deeply as before, caressing her neck and the underside of her jaw delicately.

[freo]

Oh, she likes the visible effect her touch has on him; it emboldens her as much as it excites her, growing greater her eagerness to explore more. She feels almost lightheaded at the thought of touching more of his bare skin, to see and feel all the things that made up Faramir. The man she loves better than any other. Her husband. No, she would never grow weary of saying or even thinking that! She desperately wants all of those days and all of those nights with him.

"You should," Èowyn agrees a bit breathlessly as his rough fingers trail along her clavicle so temptingly, already drawing a hint of color up to the surface of her skin as her blood quickens. Faramir is taller still than her and she tips her face up to meet his kiss halfway, baring the pale column of her neck and throat for him to touch and caress, loosing a throaty little hum of enjoyment into the contact of their lips as they drink of each other like this. Her lips are red and swollen when they part after a long moment, her breath heavy and cheeks pink-- but she doesn't go far, her teeth biting gently at Faramir's lower lip just because she can.

"--For I do not think either one of us wishes for disturbances this night." She picks up her exhortation from before with slight delay, for understandable reasons. Encouraging him to move, she pushes gently but firmly against his chest with her hands.

"The sooner you do, the sooner we may embrace again." Brazenly, she adds, "Perhaps without all of this clothing."

[whattheydefend]

His breath catches again as she pulls at his mouth with her teeth before releasing his mouth, and this time his chuckle is low and rough with anticipation. "You make a persuasive argument," he says, looking her over with obvious appreciation as she pushes his chest and he takes a step back. "For while your dress is magnificent, I would very much like to see you without it."

And he continues walking backwards the few steps it takes to reach the door, his eyes roving over her all the while, until he does have to turn to find the bar and drop it in place. It's tempting to put a chair in the way as well, to make it doubly certain that no one will be fool enough to try and get in. Faramir has found that the men of the Riddermark are rowdy when drunk, and a newly-wedding couple is a source of much amusement for everyone. He would not be surprised if some fool did make the attempt.

Best not to take chances. He grabs a nearby chair and blocks the door with it, then turns and strides back to Èowyn. "Now that we may be sure we will not be interrupted, my wife..." He leaves the sentence hanging, enchanted by the fact that he may now address her with this new title. "Where were we, exactly?" This time, after tracing her collarbone, his finger hooks under the neckline of her dress, tugging at it lightly but with definite suggestion.

[freo]

Èowyn tips her head to the side and smiles, close-lipped but wide and happy, at his appraising gaze she can practically feel running over her like a physical caress. It pleases and flatters her very much he doesn't seem to want to look away for one moment longer than he has to. She can't help but laugh gaily when Faramir bars the door with the chair to boot, lifting her fingers to her mouth and smiling behind them. She doubts any man of the Mark would dare to provoke Èomer's displeasure by disturbing his sister tonight of all night's-- to say nothing of her wrath.

Any thought of playfully pointing such out to Faramir flees her head when he returns to her, no less taken by her own, newly-gained title than Faramir is by his. She brushes her hands lightly along his sides, licking her lips unconsciously as he touches her again.

"I fear I shall have to disappoint you for a moment here, my love. For as gladly as I might shed this gown for your pleasure, it is rather impossible to remove without first undoing the lacing." As she speaks, she turns slowly, all the while gathering her unbound hair between her hands and pulling the golden fall of it over her shoulder so Faramir may better see the back of the garment; indeed, the dress laces up tightly from the nape of her neck down to the bottom of her spine.

Glancing back at him over her shoulder, Èowyn's smirk is teasing. "But perhaps a Ranger of Gondor is up to such a task?"

He is so sweet.

[withoutswords]

She's delighted by the tremor that runs through him, physical evidence that she affects him. But that thought is almost immediately lost by what follows.

"Research...There are books of such matters?" She looks incredulous. Not that Faramir has researched the subject, for of course he would study anything of interest, but that the books exist to be studied at all. Her eyes widen with amazement. "Have they pictures?"

[withoutswords]

"Ever the poet, ever the flatterer." Her eyes are soft and fond as she says it, and she strokes his face again. "I sometimes wish I could go back and tell my younger self how much joy awaits her, but even if I could I doubt she would believe it. Or that I could express it sufficiently."

[theywhowait]

"That sentiment is indeed mutual, for the joy you bring me is beyond anything I could have ever known."

He reaches up to capture her hand and bring it to his lips to kiss.

he tries!

[theywhowait]

"There are." He is very red, by now.

"Not many but ... um there apparently was... a study made of such things. I do not know the author, for the text is quite old and well hidden."

He blinks. "Well yes...."

[withoutswords]

Normally she would tease him for how flushed he is, but fortunately (or unfortunately) she is still too distracted. "What an astonishing idea." She shakes her head, amazed. "We have songs, many of them, but most are....comic in their descriptions, rather than...instructional. I would never have imagined putting such information in a book."

The Eorlingas do not have many books, prefer more oral traditions, and the books they have are more for archival purposes: histories, herbals, lore. This seems almost too frivolous or common a subject for a book, for all their inexperience.

But now her mouth quirks. "I wish I might have seen it, while I was in Minas Tirith. What was in it, to make you blush so?"

[theywhowait]

"It... um. Appeared to be a treatise on... how best to please one's wife." he admits shyly. "It was... educational, although of course, I do not know if it was... accurate."

[whattheydefend]

His mouth goes a little dry as he watches her pull all her hair over her shoulder, for he deeply loves it. More than once he's found himself breathless and mesmerised just by the sight of Eowyn doing something with her hair, even a minor gesture such as brushing a strand back from her face.

But she is teasing him, and this is no time to get distracted. "For you, my lady, I will strive to do my utmost." He grins at her briefly before reaching out and untying the knot at the back of her neck, then loosening the ties down her back. "In this, and in all things." And now he teases her, his voice low and suggestive, his fingers working with careful deliberation. Without pausing, he leans forward and kisses the back of her neck, so conveniently bared to him.

[freo]

"How fortunate I am to have such an attentive husband." The words are carried on a light chuckle, though her playfulness is stolen from her along with her breath when Faramir presses his lips against her nape, her head dipping down a little. Her ribs expand at her soft intake of breath at the sensation, marveling how such a small thing can feel so wonderful.

A quiver runs through her and she presses a hand on her stomach, the gown slowly loosening its grip about her body as Faramir's clever fingers deal with the lacing more efficiently than Èowyn ever expected.

It's flares of excitement and nerves both that lick up her belly-- for all her teasing and anticipation, for all that she does not fear the marriage bed like some new brides do after well-meaning kin have "prepared" the poor girls for what to expect (at least she didn't have to suffer through such guidance, for there was nobody to give it), it is still a little nerve-wracking. She knows Faramir will be careful and gentle as he always is, that doesn't concern her-- but would he be pleased with her? And will she know how to please Faramir in return? Such ridiculous, maidenly thoughts! And yet she cannot help them, all the same.

[withoutswords]

Her eyes glint with mischief. "So then, your research remains incomplete until you can put it into practice." As though idly, one of her fingers traces along the skin just above the collar of his shirt. "Did you want some assistance with that? Purely in the interests of scholarly achievement, of course." A grin flickers across her face. "And what made you go looking for such a book to begin with?"

[theywhowait]

Faramir wonders if one can combust from embarassment.

"Well. When one puts it that way... yes"

He smiles shyly at her. "Well I... wanted to make sure, when... we started to decide on marriage. But I have never... been with a woman. And... well. People do talk. But I was never sure how much was a soldier's bravado. So... "

*blatantly steals Anglo-Saxon poetry for own purposes*

[withoutswords]

Eowyn runs her thumb over his mouth, and sings quietly, a favorite tune of the Rohirrim.

"Past are his woes, he has won through his perils
He lives in plenty, no pleasure he lacks
Nor horses nor goods, nor gold of the mead-hall:
All the wealth of princes upon the earth
Belongs to my lord, who wants but thee..."

She is no bard, but her voice is a pleasant alto, and the tune is a joyous one of love attained. For she cannot find words for her contentment, and must borrow another's.

please, have you seen how much poetry I steal?

[theywhowait]

"You have a lovely voice." Faramir murmurs softly. "I do not know that song, I think."

[withoutswords]

Eowyn knows she should probably have mercy on her betrothed, but she cannot but find his blushes adorable. At that small, almost whispered 'yes' she leans up to kiss him again, which at least gives him a few moment's respite from questioning.

After that she rests her head on his shoulder. "I had not realized you were...concerned. Most people seem to manage, and with great enthusiasism; I had assumed we would also." Her arm tightens around his waist. "And I trust you to be gentle, in this as in all things. Surely it cannot be so very difficult a matter."

Nope, but I'd like to! Must tag Maglor more.

[withoutswords]

"'The Husband's Message'," she says, smiling. "About a man who goes to seek his fortune, finds it, and sends a piece of wood with a letter inscribed thereon to summon his wife to him; for whilte he now has all the things any man could wish for, and yet only when she is with him shall he have happiness." She strokes his hair. "A happy song with a happy ending. Not all our songs are songs of slaying and glory. Though 'tis true that most are."

[whattheydefend]

"How fortunate I am, to have such a passionate wife." He does not hurry the unlacing, instead letting the moment draw out, his warm breath teasing at her skin.

Even once the laces are undone, he does not yet let the gown slide off her shoulders. Instead he steps forward again, wrapping his arms around her waist so he may embrace her from behind, his hands joining hers where it rests on her stomach. He kisses her neck again, and then again, his lips brushing gently up towards her ear, and then he kisses that as well. "Have you any concerns about this night?" he asks quietly, for they have not had much chance to speak of it in private, and from this close he can feel that she is a little tense.

[freo]

The gown is finally loosened enough so it could be pushed down, but rather than do that, Faramir steps close once more and embraces her from behind. She leans back into his firm, warm body and sets her free hand over his, sighing softly as he rains kisses up her neck, tipping her head to the side to give him better access. Every move of hers speaks of implicit trust, and the tension she'd felt a moment ago vanishes, the line of her body relaxing against his. How is it that he seems to know exactly how to handle her? Èowyn does not know, but she is deeply grateful he does.

"No," she denies bluntly in a somewhat mulish murmur, a knee-jerk reaction. "Well. Not... I am not concerned, I just." She cuts herself off with a tiny huff, frustrated with her own seeming inability to put to words precisely what she feels. If only she were as eloquent as Faramir! Alas. Taking a breath, she tries again, fingertips drawing errant circles against the back of his hand.

"It is only that I am not entirely certain how to... do this." Her face flushes with embarrassment at both the topic and due to admitting her ignorance, but she forges on-- who can she be completely candid with if not her husband, after all? "How to best please you, I mean."

[whattheydefend]

He chuckles a little at her automatic, defensive denial, well familiar with her pride; but he says nothing, giving her time to find words. Her fingers on the back of hand distracts him a little from her answer. Only a little.

"Truthfully, I think there is very little you can do that will not please me," he admits with a low laugh, kissing the top of her earlobe again. "Any touch of yours is a wonder." He moves back down her neck, his hands splaying on her stomach and sliding to her hips.

"But I will promise to tell you if you do anything I do not like, if you will promise the same. For I do not know what will please you, either." A convenient thing about her dress being unlaced: he can nose the sleeve out the way and move his kisses down to her shoulder. "Though I...very much look forward to finding out."

[freo]

"You are not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?" But this time her tone is lighter, a definite edge of teasing in it now and a small grin on her lips, closing her eyes as his mouth finds her neck again. His hands are warm and sure on her body as they slip down to her hips, even through the fabric of her dress still clinging to her. Heat courses through her, and it isn't because of the fire burning in the hearth of the room.

Another shiver runs down her spine at the combination of Faramir's husky words and the way he nudges the loosened collar of her dress down-- this time hardly from apprehension. The complete opposite of apprehension, actually. She draws in a soft intake of breath as the fabric slips down her shoulder, looping about her upper arm and almost revealing the upper swell of a breast, her bare flesh even more pale and porcelain-like against the vibrant green of the gown. She lifts her arm and twines fingers into his hair gently as he kisses along her shoulder, trembling a little under his caresses.

"I think I shall too enjoy finding out," she finally manages to jog her suddenly sluggish tongue into speaking, breathing a faint, ragged laugh. "I think I should also enjoy it if you were wearing less, as magnificent as you look in those garments."