faemused | Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post

The dress slips off her shoulders, and Éowyn pulls her arms from the sleeves, bends so she can lower it and remove it entirely. She is still wearing a white chemise underneath, and it falls as low as her thighs, but the neckline is lower, and the material much more fine.

She takes a small step back, folding her dress over her arm and standing before him, letting him have a good look at her. Her gaze is almost challenging, though her face is flushed. "Well, my lord?"

His breath catches at the sight of her, and he falters, eyes caught and wondering.

"You are so beautiful."

He murmurs softly, struck.

The expression on his face earns a hesitant, more vulnerable smile than he usually sees. Éowyn knows she is fair, but to see it his admiration written with such open wonder and tenderness takes her breath away.

She lets the dress drop to the grass and steps back into his arms, kissing intently.

His arms come up instinctively, crushing her close to him as he kisses her with equal passion.

"Now we come to this, I am uncertain how best to proceed." He murmurs, teasingly catching her lip between his teeth lightly.

"Should I begin... here?" A hand comes round to cup her breast, shyly teasing the nipple.

Her breath hitches, and she darts her tongue against his mouth. "That...seems a good beginning," she manages. Her own hands slide back under his tunic, though she does not yet any attempt to remove it. Yet. "How will you continue on?"

He shivers a little against her own hands and recalling her reaction, dips his head to trace kisses along her neck.

"Perhaps... in this manner?"

She gasps and shivers, closing her eyes and swaying a little in his arms. He has explored her thus before, but it seems doing to while she is wearing less somehow makes the experience more potent. His mouth finds a particularly sensitive place and she gasps again, her fingers contracting against his skin. "Yes," she murmurs. "Like that."

Emboldened by her reaction he stops a while at the spot she seems to like, sucking and nibbling at it, before trying the other side. Even as he does so, his fingers continue to cup and tease her breast.

"Is the other side also amenable?"

"Oh..." Impossible to answer for a minute, impossible to move. Fire shoots through her from where his mouth touches, and his hand on her breast makes her weak at the knees. She bites her lip to keep from moaning outright. "Love... I think we had better--" She stops and gasps, tries again. "Had better find somewhere to sit, at least, for I do not think my legs will hold me if you keep doing that."

Oh wow he had no idea he could do that, and there's something undeniably smug about his smile at her reaction.

"But of course." He murmurs with a teasing grin.

"In my lap, my love?"

"Yes," she breathes, remembering how she sat on his lap in the armory, how their hands wandered until a passing noise from outside interrupted them. Yes, more of that. More of this.

They had removed their cloaks earlier, folded them to lie in a pile near where both their names are now carved. Reluctantly she pulls away from him and reaches for his, spreads it on the ground, and kneels on it, looking up and holding out a hand to him to join her, her expression an odd mixture of impatient and a little shy.

Consent achieved and boundaries established, Faramir is shy but rather keen on seeing where this will take them (the fact that Eowyn's noises and face stirs all sorts of terribly ungentlemanly impulses in him helps, of course). He stops only long enough to undo his own buttons, before coming to kneel opposite her, staring at her still in wonder.

"What did I ever do to deserve such beauty?"

Eowyn is not the type to roll her eyes, but if she were, she would. Instead, she snorts a little, not unamused. Really, Faramir's humility, while sweet, borders on the absurd. "So many things that if I were to answer that question, I would still be answering it tomorrow, and we would be no further than we are now."

She shifts closer to him, runs her fingers tentatively down the chest now revealed by his opened shirt, noting with appreciation the strong lines of muscle, the faint dusting of hair. "I would rather use this time while we have it."

He blushes a little, reaching out to kiss her again, soft and sweet, hands tangling in her hair, for a moment the hot urgency temporarily banished with gratitude.

"Then we shall." He grins at her and then he returns to his earlier work to turn her legs to jelly.

She gasps again as his hands and mouth return to her skin, leaning against him and wrapping an arm around his waist, inside the opened shirt. Her other hand she tangles in his hair. "Faramir..."

He smiles and redoubles his efforts to seek out favoured spots, shyly exploring his way to her breasts with his lips.

If his hands had an effect, his mouth has a much greater one. Her breathing becomes ragged and quick as his mouth brushes along her collar and upper chest, down to the curve of her breast. Éowyn's hand slides up his back as he moves downwards, and her fingers scrape lightly against the back of his neck.

There's a raw visceral pleasure in knowing he is the one inducing these reactions out of her, and it emboldens him to keep going, kissing his way down the curves of her breasts and even venturing to draw a nipple into his mouth experimentally. Her own explorations make him shiver, but he is too invested to stop, at the moment.

"Oh..." She curls around his head as he continues, her fingers burying themselves in his hair, goosebumps rising on her fair skin. Then suddenly it is no longer a warm press of lips, but how, wet heat, and in the most sensitive place. "Oh! Faramir, love..." She gasps again, shivering, clutching at his head.

He would answer, but mouth and tongue are currently...busy, although his smile can probably be sensed, as he industriously sets about learning what she likes.

Eowyn, it seems, enjoys nearly all of it. She trembles all over, aches for more, bites her lip to keep from crying out too much. After several dizzying minutes, she uses her grip on his hair to encourage his head back upwards, kissing him without restraint, her hands wandering over his arms and chest.

"This--" she manages finally, tugging at his shirt. "This comes off. Now."

His smile is all for her, and he chuckles at the need in her voice.

"As the lady commands!" He pulls back to strip off his shirt obediently.

"And now?"

She pauses a moment to look at him, for he is a breathtaking figure. She is used to the more barrel-chested, rough men of the Mark, and has seen more than one of them unclad, in various situations that bore as much resemblance to this one as a donkey does to a Mearas. Faramir, in contrast, is more lean, but no less strong. There are scars here and there, and she reaches out and runs a thoughtful finger along one of the ones on his upper chest, wondering about its story.

Another time. "Now it is my turn to research." She bends forward and kisses along the scar, brushes her mouth along his collarbone, her hands exploring his skin with long, broad strokes. "For we should be thorough."

He cannot help but flush a little at the appreciation in her eyes, and her kisses draw a sudden hiss of approval.

"That is true..." he manages, very breathless.

That is no bad beginning. She continues, letting her mouth and one hand wander over his chest, flicking her tongue thoughtfully over one nipple as she wonders if it will affect him as it does her. "Although...I think this might be easier if we were to lie down."

In the interests of research, or course. And of not getting cricks in their necks.

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