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

[freo]

"You are simply too modest, that is how I see it," she disagrees succinctly with a crooked smile. She breathes a soft sigh when his hand finds her breast, the rosy nipple under his thumb hardening further at the touch-- and how does such a small thing feel so wonderful? She's still trying to recover from the headiness of the caress when Faramir renews his gentle offense on her body and mind both, murmuring softly in Elvish as he goes.

It would be more lovely if she could understand all the words Faramir recites in their entirety, but what she can make out is beautiful and fateful and vaguely ambiguous the way all Elven things tend to be. In Èowyn's opinion, at least. Fleetingly, she thinks she ought to teach Faramir some of her own tongue; just maybe not now. The Rohirrim have no ethereal love poems to quote-- naughty limericks, more like. But again, later. Her own hands do not stay idle, one trailing lightly down his side and hip and the other brushing against his chest, fingertips stirring the hair there to graze against his flatter nipple; curious whether that is sensitive, too.

"Is this what you imagined it would be? Being together like this?" she asks in a soft tone of her own. She does not play coy and ask if he has pictured this in the first place; she certainly has, and plenty of times, so why wouldn't he?

[whattheydefend]

"No." His lips brush against her ear as he murmurs the word. He certainly has pictured this, often and in great detail, and it thrills him to the core to know that she has as well. "It is much, much better, for it is real."

With that he bends a little and picks her up in his arms, flashing her a quick grin before carrying her over to the bed, placing her on it, and joining her there, lying by her side and bending over to kiss her again.

[freo]

Èowyn parts her smiling lips to respond, but words get exchanged for a small gasp of surprise when Faramir suddenly bends to lift her up into his arms, throwing her own arm around his shoulders to hold on and laughing a little. Perhaps it had been the time to move this over to the bed-- except lying on her back like this feels a lot more passive than standing upright with him, and for a moment she doesn't quite know what to do, where to put her hands.

Fortunately Faramir leans down to kiss her almost immediately, solving her dilemma for now. Framing his face with her hands, she kisses back with the same heat as before, even if she doesn't hurry, now; the length of her hair still spills over one shoulder and breast, snaking onto the bedclothes next to her.

[whattheydefend]

For a moment Faramir is perfectly balanced between impatient desire and a tenderness that demands to be savored, as she frames his face and kisses him in return. A moment of being poised.

"Is this what you imagined, when you thought of it?"
Another kiss, a sweet teasing pull of her lips with his. He will not tease for much longer, but after so much time spent anticipating this night he is oddly reluctant to rush into it headlong. His free hand lifts and strokes her hair, follows the errant strands down her chest and back to her breast, which he once again takes in hand. He breaks the kiss and pulls away a few inches, enough that she can see his smile. "And you need not tell me you thought of it, for I know you did, my shieldmaiden."

[freo]

Èowyn combs her fingers through his hair with one hand, breathing a throaty little noise into the kiss when he cups her breast once more.

"You know me so well," she murmurs back in a fond tease once they part, smiling as well. "It is far more than I ever could have imagined it being. Far more wondrous. Though... I did imagine you touching me just like this." She brushes her fingers over the back of his hand that is laying claim to her breast indicatively. Wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue, she goes on a little breathlessly, eyelids growing heavy, "And then, replacing your hand with your mouth."

[whattheydefend]

His smile widens, and he kisses her briefly one more time before moving down on the bed, kissing along her jaw and neck and upper chest, into the valley between her breasts. He looks up, his smile tinged briefly wicked, and very, very lightly kisses her nipple, then begins cirling the rest of her breast with open-mouthed kisses, while his hand continues to caress and tease the other breast, so neither is neglected.

When his mouth finds her nipple again he kisses it once more, less lightly; then he suckles, flicking his tongue against the hard nub there, glancing up to see her reaction. "Like this?" he murmurs before continuing.

[freo]

Èowyn's lips curve into a smile of her own, even through the light kiss, a tiny shiver rippling down her body as Faramir begins his descent. She hums softly her enjoyment as his mouth rains kisses down her neck and chest, her breathing picking up slightly. That downright roguish smile makes her breath catch, though it's the kiss to her pebbled nipple that truly makes her gasp-- and sigh again when he presses warm, slightly damp kisses across the soft flesh around. It is all so very pleasant, his free hand tending to her opposite breast diligently. She thinks she begins to see what all the fuss is about...

But then Faramir latches on and suckles, all wet, warm suction around the sensitive nub of flesh, and it's like a lash from a whip; only white-hot pleasure rather than pain. A sharp cry of pleasure spills from Èowyn's lips and her head goes back, arching her neck and digging the back of her head into the plush bedding and pillows underneath.

"Oh! Oh, yes-- like that," she exults amid a breathy laugh of sensual delight, her fingers running through his hair and stroking down his shoulders; touching, gripping. Unconsciously, her body writhes restlessly under his tender onslaught, yearning for more still. "By all the gods, don't stop..."

[whattheydefend]

When she cries out and arches beneath him, any desire on Faramir's part to hold back and not rush instantly vanishes. He groans against her skin, his motions suddenly becoming more urgent, sucking harder, squeezing her other breast more firmly. When the sounds she makes go up in pitch he switches, paying just as fervent attention to the other breast, scrapping his teeth over the nipple as he suckles her. Every cry she utters is music, shoots through him with a sweet, painful intensity, firing down to his groin.

She tugs at his hair and he draws in a low, ragged breath. "This--" he manages, somewhere between kisses and suction and gasps. "This is what I imagined, you writhing in pleasure under me, because of me--"

He surges back up and captures her mouth again, his tongue plunging in, breathing her in like air. "For months, Èowyn, for a year, every night..." His hand strokes over her breasts, down her abdomen, cups the mound between her thighs.

[freo]

Èowyn feels like she's going to burst; her body is on fire, her skin a size too small to contain the swirling, burgeoning pleasure that is swiftly overtaking her, spreading from her breasts and spilling along the laylines of her body ever southward until settling between her thighs as a dull, aching throb that matches her heartbeat. The world around her ceases to exist, shrinking to a sharp focus; all she sees and hears and feels is Faramir, his touch and his groans and his hot breath on her skin. She desperately needs more of him or she might just expire, she thinks.

She moans loudly at his almost desperate caresses, easily matching her own mood, and his ragged, heated words; she'd faint into a swoon at them if she wasn't already lying down -- imagining him, imagining this; and her, like this. It's so carnal and sultry she shudders at the mere thought.

She hadn't realized she'd closed her eyes, only becoming aware of it when she opens them heavily as Faramir leaves her chest alone, catching a glimpse of the intensity written across his expression as he claims her lips for a fervent kiss. Moaning again, she kisses back with hunger of her own, nails of one hand biting into his back and the other tugging at his hair -- she finds she likes touching and holding onto it, in this situation.

"Show me," she pants heavily, a bit of a whimper escaping her when his roughened palm strokes down her body again. "Show me all of it, I--"

Another cry overtakes words when his palm boldly cups her where she's grown wet and burning hot, her back arching off the bedding a little as the gentle pressure and warmth of his hand alone feel amazing, her eyes slamming shut again at the sensation. "Oh, Faramir...!"

[whattheydefend]

He spoke truth, before: this is better than anything he imagined, beyond his imagining, for it is real. This is his Èowyn, as passionate and unrestrained in her desire as she is in all things, and to him she is beautiful and desirable beyond all description. The ungentle scraping of nails on his back and the rough pulls on his hair only add to his hunger, a pain that blurs into even more pleasure. He never knew the line between the two could be walked so closely.

His finger carefully parts her, dips inside searching for the wet heat he knows must be waiting; he groans when he finds it. "Èowyn..." His finger slides up, searching for and finding the sensitive nub, stroking it carefully. He still kisses her, wanting to capture every gasp, every moan she makes with his own mouth.

[freo]

Her whole frame flinches gently when Faramir's finger slides along her soft flesh, at first a little startled by the foreign touch at the most tender part of her-- but such hesitation only lasts a second when he finds such hidden spot that makes her see stars, hot pleasure immediately blooming outward from where he strokes her with such care. She jolts again, a pitchy cry muffled against his mouth as she struggles the sustain the kiss from the heady rush of rapture threatening of overwhelm her.

She may be inexperienced, but her body responds out of primal instinct; hips beginning to rock gently into his touch, shuddering and breathing heavily through her nose, unhanding his back to grasp at the sheets in a white-knuckled grip. Her other hand clasps the back of his neck, another pleasured mewl escaping her and getting lost amid their questing lips.

[whattheydefend]

Her responses are beyond all his fantasies, and Faramir is enchanted by them. When she begins to move against his hand he notes the rhythm, matches it, works with it. He is still researching, even in this swirl of heat: how she reacts to a light touch, a harder press, to his finger circling one way or the other. What makes her gasp, what makes her almost scream...he has to stop kissing her in order to watch, and to let her breathe. The sight of her flushed face and clenched eyes is well worth the attention. "Beautiful--" he murmurs in Sindarin, not even aware he has spoken.

When needed he dips his finger back in search of more moisture, and then carefully adds a second finger to the first, stroking carefully inside her, a deliberate mimicry of the act he devoutly hopes will follow soon.

[freo]

Never in her life did Èowyn expect it could be like this between them, that a man could touch her in such a way and bring her pleasure unlike anything she's ever felt before. He is a scholar even now, she realizes through the haze of her ecstasy, learning her likes and teaching her new ones in the process, coaxing myriad of reactions out of her. How fortunate she is, how blessed!

She cries out anew as her aroused body yields to him easily now, her flush spreading down to her chest as Faramir strokes her from within, lighting her up with every pass of his fingers. A spontaneous oath in Rohirric drops from her lips as fire licks her insides somewhere deep between her hips, and she squirms desperately under his touch. "Please, please--" she gasps breathlessly, though she is not certain what she's pleading for, exactly. Parting her heavy eyelids enough to gaze at him under her lashes, she grabs the sides of his face and pulls him into another passionate kiss, her teeth biting at his lip in a wordless demand for something more.

[whattheydefend]

Familiarity breeds confidence, and Faramir's fingers are quick studies to their work, until he can stroke her from within with his fingers while circling that nub with his thumb. He is hypnotized by her, the way she arches, the flush that now covers her face and chest.

And then she looks at him with low-lidded, unfocused eyes, pulls him down for a kiss that is desperate on both sides. "Èowyn--" His cock is a hot, iron brand pressing against her hip, his skin is on fire, and he knows what his body wants, what it craves, but does not know if this is yet the moment, or if he should continue as he is for a while longer first and see if she will come undone that way.

But her hands on him are urgent and needy, and so is he. "Love, do you--" He hardly knows what to ask, what to want. For this to last forever, for more, to be as lost in bliss as she is, to keep going until she screams his name--and at that heady thought he lets out a low moan and kisses her again, his fingers moving faster.

[freo]

And come undone, she does. Faramir's clever fingers suddenly pick up the pace, merciless in their intent to bring about her end. The effect is immediate, and Èowyn arches up against him, a desperate cry that's closer to a sob muffled against his lips as white-hot pleasure draws her up tight and builds up inside her. There's an almost painful edge of intensity that follows, her belly tightening as she loses control of the noises that spill out of her; heated moans and downright whines-- until she's had enough, her body stiffening for a moment before letting go. Tearing her mouth from his, she screams sharply, even if not his name; a wordless, ragged outcry of rapture as she comes around his fingers in tight, wet pulses, shuddering all over, lost in the searing bliss that pours through her.

[whattheydefend]

He lifts his head, the better to watch her, awed by the sight, the feel of her clenching around his fingers. He stays still as a statue until she finishes, until she's collapsed on the bed and breathing hard. Only then does he carefully remove his fingers from inside her. Curious, he brings them to his mouth and licks, savoring the sharp taste.

With his free hand he strokes the top of her head, and once his other hand has been wiped dry on the sheets he caresses her face and hair, murmuring under his breath how wonderful she is, how perfect, how beautiful...waiting until she comes back to herself.

[freo]

A little noise of loss escapes her when Faramir carefully slips out his fingers, shuddering and catching her breath; her heart hammers in her chest and the last tendrils of warm, soft pleasure course through her body still, drawing a low hum of delight from her.

"Oh, Faramir..." she sighs, stretching a little like a lazy cat and smiling as she cracks her eyes open, happily turning her face into his caresses. "I had no idea it could be-- that it could feel like that."

She has no further words to describe it, for it had been... well, indescribable. His cock presses into her hip still, hot and hard and ready; curiosity stirs in Èowyn. She feels the urge to touch him like he'd touched her, to explore, and to give him the same pleasure in return. But she is not certain it is the right moment.

"What of your own plight, husband?" she asks with a hint of a teasing grin tugging at her lips, her hand coming down to brush fingers gently against his jaw.

[whattheydefend]

Perhaps unconsciously she moves against him, pressing against his cock; and he catches his breath, partly from that and partly from how radiant she is and the light touch against his face. He flushes a little at the question, chuckling. "It grows...ah, pronounced, yes." He caresses her face again. "If Gondor calls for aid, will Rohan answer?"

[freo]

Èowyn chuckles and grins sweetly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips, drastically different than the hungry, desperate ones they'd exchanged just a moment ago. "Always," she murmurs once they part, stroking the side of his face.

[whattheydefend]

He closes his eyes as she kisses him, a profoundly emotional moment for him. Always. It seems too miraculous to be true, despite the events of the past few minutes. That this bliss is theirs, not merely for now, but forever. "I love you," he murmurs against her mouth before kissing her again, more intently.

But it takes only a moment for need to spur him towards further action, and he breaks off, a little breathless. "Would you like to...ah, explore me in turn?" He strokes a hand along her hip, smiling. "In truth I do not need the help by this point, but you have never been short of curiosity."

[freo]

"And I, you," she sighs happily, smiling and closing her eyes as he kisses her more deeply. Her eyes flutter open slowly to gaze at him, her smile deepening at the question. Her eyes stray down to where he presses against her, so hot and hard. Gods, does she want to do just that, to touch and explore him. But more than that, she wants them to finally be joined and consummate this marriage in full.

"I would indeed, but perhaps a little later-- this night is still young, is it not?" She grins. In fact, it is rather late already, but she isn't about to let that stop her on their wedding night. Leaning in for another kiss, she urges lowly against his lips, "Take me. Let us be together as husband and wife are."

[whattheydefend]

He groans at those brazen words, which shoot through him like arrows of fire, and immediately lifts himself up to cover her, kissing her as desperately as if their lives depend on it. Instinct guides him, settling him between her legs.

He kneels up a little and takes himself in hand, positioning himself at her entrance, and he breaks the kiss long enough to meet her eyes, one last, silent request for assurance that this is welcome. He rubs the head of his cock against her slit to tease her, and a quick smile flits across his face.

[freo]

She welcomes him into the warm cradle of her thighs, spreading to accommodate him and relishing the feel of him on top as she kisses back with equal hunger. Fondness mingles with mild exasperation at how careful he's being, at the silent question passed between them. Oh, how she loves him! But she does not think she could have been more plain in her wishes.

"Really, Faramir. Must I beg?" she teases, albeit rather breathlessly, biting her lip on a little whine when he rubs against her tender flesh, a shudder of anticipation and pleasure running down her body.

[whattheydefend]

"Beg, no." He licks his lip, still teases her, leans forward to whisper in her ear. "But if you would command me once more..."

For in all his heated imaginings, he had never anticipated his reaction to that.

[freo]

She moans faintly when he teases her some more, squirming a little restlessly beneath him; her habitual impatience starting to creep back in. But she can't help but breathe a ragged laugh, barely more than a heavy exhalation, at the words he whispers in her ear. He'd liked that, did he? Then he married the right woman, indeed.

"Take me," she repeats, her need making her bold, panting softly in anticipation as she lifts one leg to wrap possessively -- and perhaps in encouragement -- about his body. "Take me right now."