faemused | Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post

"Fara--!" Her strangled protest of his name is cut off as she kisses him with increased desperation, and she hits his shoulder with her fist--not hard enough to hurt, merely in frustrated emphasis. The worst of it is that his fingers are still there, just not moving as they were, and she groans her annoyance into the kiss.

But two can play at that, and she's quick enough to tug at his drawers, slip her hand inside and stroke him without barriers, faster and more firm than she had done earlier, trying to make him as impatient as he has now made her.

He laughs, only to break off into a deep groan as she reverses the tables on him.

"Mmm... now who is... playing unfair?" He hisses, trying not to buck up into her hands and his fingers starting moving again in retaliation.

"I think--" She breaks off with a high-pitched gasp as he strokes her again. "Oh...it is time...we stop playing--" Another gasp, and she removes her hand and pulls his wrist away from where he's been toying with her. Not without reluctance--but pleasing as such games are, Eowyn has had enough of them.

She pushes him back down on the bed, kissing him deeply as she settles herself above him, then reaches between them to tug at the waistband of his drawers, shoving them down over his hips. No more barriers between them, no more teasing.

"Well..." but whatever he was going to say is swallowed in the groan as she shifts above him, trembling to prevent himself thrusting up before she is ready.

"Eowyn!"

She only smiles at him in answer, a quick, feral grin of desire and anticipation as she moves back into place above him, then leans down to take another hungry kiss. She doesn't need to look to reach between them, position the both of them, and take him in.

The friction of it makes her breathing ragged as she pushes down, and she rests her forehead on his, eyes closed, one hand cradling his face and the other keeping herself upright. She moves slowly--more slowly than she wants, truthfully, knowing that the end result will be all the sweeter if she can make herself be patient--until she's fully sheathed around him, and there she pauses, taking a few minutes to adjust to the sensation of being filled. Joined.

She lifts her head a little, opens her eyes and smiles at him. "How shall I ride you, my Faramir?" she murmurs. "Hard and fast, or slow and gentle?"

"Ai!" He can't help the instinctive buck of his hips, but then he masters himself, although he is trembling from the effort as he looks up at her, eyes dilated, and his hands careful not to grip too tight on her hips.

"After all of this, Eowyn, I think neither of us will be happy with slow!"

She gasps as he bucks under her, not with pain. That feral smile flickers back at his answer. "True."

She bends and takes one more quick kiss, then starts to move, lifting herself off of him and pushing back down. Her lower lip is caught between her teeth, her expression one of concentration.

He groans as she starts to move, his hands flexing on her hips as he tries not to move, and let her take her pleasure. His eyes stay open, fixed on her. She is so beautiful, like this, and it pleases something deep and primal in him that he can make her look like this.

"Don't tease, love."

There is the faintest, wicked glint to her eyes as she looks down at him. "So I should...push us all the way, my lord...and not...stop?" Like this.

Faramir gasps what might have been an affirmative, his hips moving without his conscious volition by now.

"Eowyn!"

She laughs at this sound of protest, and if it is ragged and breathless still it is joyous, and she bends down to kiss him briefly in apology. It must be brief, for truthfully she is as impatient and needy as he, and moves to meet his thrusts again almost at once.

She tries to watch him, for he is beautiful like this, unrestrained and wanting and lost in pleasure. No one else ever sees this, only herself, and there is a fierce pride in her at the thought.

But the sensations are too much, she needs too much, she wants, and her eyelids flutter shut as she moans and concentrates, rolling her hips so, trying to reach that peak. "Faramir--love, I need--please--"

She needs him to touch her there, or she will have to do it herself, if she can hold herself upright at the same time. Hopefully he will be able to make sense of those unfinished, gasping words.

He is breathless and gasping, his eyes full of her. He nods when she pleads - or thinks he does, anyway, fumbling with one hand to look for that special place that makes her writhe.

"Eowyn, Eowyn, my beloved!"

Her only answer is a high-pitched keen, her eyes clamped shut and her hands fisting in the sheets on either side of his head as she rides him, urgent and heedless, any rhythm lost in the rising tide of need. Until finally she cries out, her head thrown back, shaking above him as pleasure overtakes her.

She's beautiful like this, and he's the only one who gets to see her like this, wild and unrestrained. That thought alone, even as she clamps down around him, would be enough to make him come, and he cries her name (he thinks. probably) as he convulses.

She holds herself up as they both come undone, then collapses on his chest after, her head resting on his shoulder. They're both breathing hard, and her hair is sticking to her back, and any other sweat-covered skin it touches, whether hers or his. Ruefully, Eowyn realizes she now probably needs a bath.

Later. Right now all she wants is to lie in her husband's arms, both of them spent and blissful. She kisses his cheek absently, murmuring his name.

He's exhausted, but it's the pleasant sort of exhaustion, and he brushes a tired hand over her shoulder as she kisses him.

"I love thee." He murmurs, happily tired and satiated.

"I love thee." She is limp and boneless, all her limbs overtaken by a sweet lassitude, but manages to lift her head and kiss him properly on the mouth.

She does not want to move, but this position is becoming uncomfortable, so reluctantly she disengages and lays herself alongside him, using his chest as a pillow. That is much better, and she sighs in contentment, wrapping an arm across his waist.

He shifts enough to let her settle comfortably by his side and makes a low noise of content.

"I would we could stay here forever." He yawns. "But we will need to be up in a few hours."

She makes a small, sleepy noise of protest, nuzzling her cheek against him. Now that the rush of heat has passed the sweat is cooling on her skin, and she shivers a little, but still does not wish to move. They already should have been up hours ago--but surely they have earned the respite, and this moment is sweet.

Feeling her shiver, he gropes for the blanket and pulls it up over them.

"Later then." He yawns, unwilling to move her when they are both comfortable. He's sure someone will come and find them if something is truly urgent.

Eowyn murmurs her contentment, nestling under the blanket and settling alongside him more closely. She is sated and replete, cocooned in warmth and love, his arm gentle around her. If there has ever been a time she was happier than this, she cannot remember it.

That pleasant, dozing state lasts for perhaps half an hour or so, at which point her insides abruptly revolt, and without warning she is forced to lunge for the side of the bed and the chamberpot there, heaving for several minutes as her stomach attempts to turn itself inside out despite being empty.

Faramir has drifted almost entirely back to sleep by then, jolting back to awareness with a startled whoof as she accidentally elbows him in her lunge.

As soon as he realises what is happening, he reaches over to pull her hair back from her face and hold her through the spasms.

"Should I fetch some ginger tea, love?"

She is dimly grateful that he holds her hair out of the way, for the comfort of his arm around her, even as she hates the way her body revolts against her will, churning and roiling to no purpose. Even after that part is over she remains, trying to force her body to calm.

"No." She pulls herself back up, lying on her back on the bed, still breathing hard. She grimaces, wipes her hand across her mouth. "No, I should prefer water, I think. And we are long overdue for breakfast, little as I like the idea at the moment." Some food will help, she knows, but it still has no appeal. She sighs. "I think the next months will seem very long."

He strokes her hair and waits patiently for her body to settle, pressing a gentle kiss to her shoulder.

"Alright. Do you want me to go and stoke up the fire a little, if you are cold? Or shall I braid your hair back?"

She cannot help but give him a look, half amused and half exasperated. "My hands still work perfectly well, Faramir. I am not made an invalid merely because I am expecting a child."

And he did promise not to hover over her too much. But he means well, so she relents a little. "But it is cold. We should both dress for the day, in truth...but I would not mind if the room were a little warmer first. And I would like some water."

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....seriously Eowyn braid your hair first next time...

lol they were otherwise occupied

pfft I've had hair that long I know how much trouble it is. He probably loves it though.

he does~

oh well, so long as they're happy

tbh these two are the biggest saps and are probably happy with each other irregardless

Absurdly so. Also, I am mean.

looooool so terrible

do you really think Eowyn would get along well with pregnancy? She's not that patient.

lol sadly true

I think the best word to apply will be "tetchy."