Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post

[questionablewit]

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[freo]

There's such intensity in his eyes, Eowyn thinks, before she thinks nothing at all, his lips smothering her sharp intake of breath as he grasps her close and kisses her; unheeding of their audience. She forgets them as well, and their titters and their sighs. Nobody else exists to her then but Faramir, and she clings to his strong shoulders for dear life as she kisses back, inexperienced still but making up for it with sheer enthusiasm and passion.

There are such hidden depths to her new husband; his genteel and gentle mien and manner hiding both steel and passion, and she rather pitied the fool who made the mistake of underestimating Faramir. A warrior and poet both, he was, and that combination has yet to cease intrigueing Eowyn. She can hardly contain herself at the thought of finally learning him fully, in their marriage bed, quivering in his firm embrace at the force he extends over her. A helpless little noise of enjoyment escapes her, lost in the press of their lips.

She's breathless once the kiss finally breaks, spelling out their desire and longing with nary a word. Leaning into his touch, she catches her breath softly and smiles back beautifically. Gone are the days of her melancholy and woe, sorrow and regret; before him stands a young woman radiant with happiness and anticipation for the days to follow, just as a new bride ought to be.

"Content? Nay." She laughs softly. "That is too small a word. I am... so happy it fills my heart to the brim." Expression gentling with affection and love, she too brings a hand up to cradle the side of his face. "I have no words to describe how wonderful it feels, and I know not how I ever lived without this. You have given me such joy this day I feel as if I am dreaming! For can something so wondrous truly be real? And yet, I know it is so. Because it is you, and you will always be true to me, in all things."

[whattheydefend]

"So I have sworn, and so I will do," he confirms, as though it were in any doubt. As though there is anything in all the world he wants more, and he laughs a little, kissing her again. This time it is more brief, and he rests his forehead against hers afterwards. His arms still have her pulled close, and he is happily aware that this time he does not have to release her if they do not wish it.

"But if you cannot find words to tell of your joy, why then, the answer is simple: you will have to show me." His eyes twinkle at hers as he says it, for Èowyn has ever preferred action to words. "Though in truth you need not, for I feel the same. My shieldmaiden..." He turns his face to kiss the palm of her hand where she caresses him. "Never did I imagine happiness like this. Perhaps we do dream, but if so, I would not wake from it."

[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!"

[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?"

[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.

[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."

[whattheydefend]

"I speak only truth, as you know." One last brush of his mouth along her shoulder, and then he turns her in his arms, openly admiring the bare skin that his ministrations have revealed. "And I have not yet finished the task I was appointed, and would not leave such an important matter undone..."

He moves his hands from her hips to her arms, slides them along the rich velvet up to her shoulders, and then back down on bare skin, pushing the sleeves down her arms. They should take care with it, for it is a work of art, but he is far more interested by the woman it reveals.

Even so, his mouth twitches. "After that--well, I too may need a little help with laces. And other things."

That is mere teasing, for he has few laces to undo, though more layers to remove. There is a velvet surcoat, of Gondorian silver and black, the White Tree shining on his chest, belted around the waist with an intricately woven silver chain; under the surcoat is a shirt of fine white silk, and black trousers and boots. A little stark compared to the warmer colours Rohan prefers, but Faramir needed to represent his country today as well as himself. And, as one courtier laughingly pointed out to him, no one ever remembers what the groom wears. It is the bride everyone watches.

Faramir can only consider that wisdom, especially in this case. The vivid green of her dress is beautiful, but Éowyn is more beautiful still, and his heated gaze makes that plain as he looks at her, as the dress finally falls to the floor and his hands return to her waist. He leans forward and kisses her again, more slowly but with more heat than before.

[freo]

"Other things, you say? You delight in teasing me, husband," Èowyn points out the obvious, teasing him right back, but her voice comes out a little breathless as his warm, calloused hands slide beneath the fabric of her dress and caress down her bare back.

And then, as if it had been up by a force of will alone up until then, the dress falls heavily to the floor, pooling about her feet in green piles of fabric. Èowyn sucks in a sharp breath and shivers a little at the cool air upon her naked body, her mouth going dry as she forcibly tamps down on the instinctive urge to cross her arms over her chest for modesty. There is no need for such, she reminds herself.

If she had ever worried even a little what Faramir might think of her body in comparison to the slim and willowy Gondorian beauties he is more used to, the heat in his gaze would have dispelled such fears quickly as he looks over her bare body now. For tall as she is, Èowyn has a longer torso and shorter legs in comparison-- broader at the shoulders, stronger in the arms, narrow waist giving way to full hips. She'd never really considered her own body in terms of how pleasing it is to the opposite sex, but the way Faramir grasps her close and kisses her with such evident longing speaks for itself.

Closing her eyes, she grips his upper arms and abandons herself to his kiss, parting her lips for him willingly and inviting him sweetly, if yet slightly clumsily, to deepen the kiss still, her heart beating wildly in her chest as her bare body presses against his clothed one, inexplicably erotic.

[whattheydefend]

"Yes," he agrees, his voice lower and rougher as his hands trail down the line of her spine, as she calls him husband again, and then she opens her mouth to his and all other thoughts are lost. His tongue slides between her lips, seeks hers, slow explorations of wet heat and hunger.

He draws in a deep breath and pulls her in closer, deepening the kiss more still, his hands wandering over all her, back and hips and shoulders, all of her warm and soft and strong body, the long fall of her hair teasing at the back of his hands. The contrast of being completely clothed--impeccably so--while she is naked in his arms is surprisingly arousing.

But not as much as the idea of bare skin on bare skin, so Faramir breaks the kiss, pulling away just enough to rest his forehead on hers. "Would you do me the same favor?" he asks quietly, brushing his nose against hers, his breathing a little uneven. "For since I am now your husband, it would be as well if you had a look at your half of the bargain."

[freo]

Èowyn scarcely believes she issues such a noise of pleasure at the way his hands explore and caress her, caught between a moan and a whimper, lost in the fray of their heated kiss and swallowed by Faramir's lips. Hunger and heat pours through her, warming up her skin and evoking a maddening yearning for more-- her habitual impatience beginning to rear its head.

She gasps for breath as their kiss breaks, her chest heaving, mouth swollen and an almost glassy look of arousal in her dilated eyes. Her lips curve into an enthralled smile at Faramir's query, fondness and excitement mingling in her expression as she briefly touches a hand to his cheek.

"Yes-- oh, yes Faramir," she agrees most enthusiastically, fingers scrabbling gently down to his waist to rid him of the fine chain of silver, dropping it unceremoniously onto her dress to be enfolded in rich velvet. There was time later to tidy up. It's as if her own nakedness has suddenly ceased to register, far more concerned with rendering Faramir to the same state of nudity as her. The surcoat is downright princely and exquisite, but soon it too lays on the floor. The silken shirt underneath cannot compete with the lure of his bare skin, as Èowyn demonstrates; all too quickly slipping fleet hands beneath the hem to trail them up Faramir's stomach, a spontaneous little croon of delight at her throat at the feel of warm skin and firm muscle.

[whattheydefend]

Sweet Elbereth, the sounds she makes, and they have barely begun...already Faramir is beginning to have a sense of how sorely this is going to test his self-control, and what blissful torture that test will be. He manages to keep his hands on her shoulders as she undoes his belt, lifts his arms and ducks his head as she hauls the surcoat off and discards it, both items immediately forgotten once removed.

And then she slides her hands under the loose shirt underneath, warm fingers against his chest, and wherever she touches leaves burning heat in her wake...Faramir reaches for her and all but crushes her against him once more. This time his kiss is demanding, his tongue pushing its way into her mouth to dance with hers, hungry and impatient. His shirt is trapped between them, pushed up but still very much in the way, for all that the cloth is thin enough that they can feel each other's heat through it without difficulty.

[freo]

Faramir is built so differently than the barrel-chested, bear-like Rohirrim she's grown up around, and it is particularly fascinating. He's tall and lean, but well-muscled; of that, there can be no doubt as Èowyn's hands trail covetously up his chest, fingers spread to touch as much as possible. The sprinkling of wiry hair tickles her palms, spread across the firm planes of his pectorals; she's only caught glimpses occasionally so far, peeking out of a low collar and tempting her imagination-- how far down did it reach?

She opens her mouth to nigh demand they get rid of the shirt already, as fine as that, too, is. But before she can manage even a peep, Faramir's mouth steals her breath anew as he crushes her against him, taking her lips in a hot, hungry kiss that is no longer questing, but demanding. And by all the gods, his forcefulness is making her tremble in his arms, wild with eager anticipation knowing he wants to know her in this most intimate of manner as badly as she does him. She matches his fervor as she kisses back, feeling downright feverish as her bare breasts press against his chest, the flimsy silk hardly an impediment in between -- and yet, it's too much. It needs to go.

Her own impatience roiling, she tugs awkwardly at the shirt-- a bit too passionately, it seems, as suddenly a sharp ripping sound of an undone seam rends the air. Èowyn gasps in startled remorse and breaks the kiss, jumping a little in his embrace; did she just tear the pristine silk? For a beat, she looks like a deer caught in the way of a hunter's arrow, but a blink of an eye later, she laughs loud and unrestrained, mirth sparkling in her eyes.

"It is what you get for marrying a Northern barbarian woman! They tear the clothes right off your back."

[whattheydefend]

The enthusiasm with which she returns his kiss makes Faramir's head spin. He can feel her breasts pressing against his chest, the light material barely a barrier...but barely is still too much, and when she tugs at his shirt he tries to help her remove it, but he pulls one way and she pulls another and then it rips.

There's a moment of surprise, and then they both are laughing, and she shines with amusement. Her words make him laugh all the more, and he pulls her in for another kiss, this one more brief and affectionate, and interrupted by his chuckling. "I can see that marriage will be hard on my wardrobe!" he teases. "But even so, you are welcome to tear any clothes off me that you will, so long as you will also kiss me as you just did."

[freo]

Her shoulder shake with near soundless chuckles even as she kisses him back, lightly and fondly this time. "Such hardships you suffer," she teases back, affection shining across every inch of her face. "And a dangerous offer you make! For I might take shameless advantage. But mayhap I shall try to gentle my manners, if only to keep your coffers from running empty replacing your clothes."

Smirking, Èowyn leans back enough to help tug the torn shirt up and over his head, finally. But once the now ruined article falls away, her mirth escapes quite suddenly, struck breathless by the sight of her husband's bare torso. Her eyes lid a little heavily as she runs her gaze like a caress over his chest and stomach, the scars on his skin like badges of honor, to her. A warrior's -- an archer's -- body, and she's more than pleased with his shape. He's beautiful, though he might or might not appreciate that precise term.

"As for my kisses... I do think that will be a problem. Indeed, I may have trouble stopping," she confesses huskily as she wraps her arms around his neck, inhaling a shaky little breath as their fronts press flush against each other, with no barrier of clothing between them this time.

[whattheydefend]

He is still laughing as he helps her remove the ripped shirt, pulling it over his head, and is about to make another jesting comment in kind when he catches sight of her expression: the heat and appreciation in her eyes immediately set his blood racing. Faramir has never before cared much whether or not he was attractive, but knowing Èowyn finds him so, that she is affected by the sight of him...that goes to his head, in every sense.

He rests one hand on her hip as she embraces him again, and caresses her face with the other. "Do not stop," he says, his voice suddenly rough. "Be my ungentle, shameless, insatiable barbarian from the North always. Even if it means I never have unripped clothes again. Especially if that."

This time when he kisses her it is a slower thing, his mouth teasing, pulling and nipping at her lips and his tongue darting to touch hers, adding tinder to a fire that will not take long to become a conflagration. He pulls her in close, her curves against his chest, and that makes him gasp into the kiss with more urgency. Flush against him like this there is no disguising the hard length straining against his trousers, pressing against her.

[freo]

He's repeating her own jest back at her, but she knows he means every word; suddenly she feels like weeping, but from joy and sense of completion. Nobody has ever accepted her as wholly as Faramir does, without seeking to change anything in her -- nor have her change herself. To think how she once despaired, fearful of never being seen for who she is and what she's capable of... it seems a whole lifetime ago. If this sort of bliss with this man is her reward for passing under such shadows, she would endure it again in a heartbeat.

"Faramir," she whispers, moved by an overflowing of pure emotion, just before he claims her lips all over again for a slow and staggeringly sensual kiss. He's kissing her like she never thought one can be kissed at all, like he's making love to her mouth with his, making her shiver anew even as she does her best to return his caresses, learning from his example. Èowyn echoes his gasp as their bodies press into each other more firmly in their fervor, her pebbled nipples rubbing against his chest and sending pinpricks of pleasure tingling through her.

That isn't all, for she quickly become aware of the hot, hard length of him pushing insistently into her thigh through his trousers. Heat lashes through her, a flush spreading down her chest and her belly tightening; some of her nerves return, but more powerful is the pure, wanton excitement that draws a low moan from her into the kiss, one hand greedily stroking along his back while she clings to him with the other. They would need to finish undressing him, but she can't seem to tear herself away just yet.

[whattheydefend]

"Eowyn..." More a breath than a word, for his mouth is better occupied than with speaking. He slides a hand through her hair, over her shoulder, down the arm still marked by scarring from where the Witch-king hit her with his mace. They both have scars to bear, and he welcomes hers as part of her.

Then both his hands are at her waist, and she moans and the sound shoots down his spine, and he pulls her hips towards his, groaning into her mouth at the tantalizing pressure, the nearness of her. They should do something about the rest of his clothes, he realizes dimly, or at least make progress towards the bed, and yet..."Eowyn." His mouth wanders from hers to her jaw, trails a line of kisses to her neck, her ear, his breath hot on her skin.

[freo]

She issues another slightly pitchy noise into his mouth when he pulls her hips into his more firmly still, cheeks feeling hot and flushed. She pants for breath once the kiss breaks, sighing hotly as Faramir's lips take to trailing across her neck, tipping her head to the side to give his exploration more room. Her own hands do not remain idle, either, but take to running down to the base of his spine, before scrabbling suggestively along the waist of his breeches.

"Does Gondor call for aid?" she breathes a little slyly, grinning, altogether uncertain how she has the capacity for more jests when she feels so lightheaded and overheated.