faemused | Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post 2

Faramir says nothing as she accuses him of trying not to laugh, but tries harder to control his facial expressions. That should not be so difficult, he has years of practice after dealing with his father...and yet facing down Denethor's sternness is altogether a different thing to facing down Éowyn, wearing nothing but her shift and a disgruntled expression, poking suspiciously at the water with her toes. And how well being dressed in naught but a shift suits her, he notes, watching the water lap at her ankles...

Until she yelps, and fails to hold back a chuckle, stepping forward so that he may reach her. "This is but a little! I have seen you covered in far more of it on the training fields, or when riding during the spring rains."

Her fears are not foolish to him--anyone may be afraid or uncertain, and far be it from him to look down on one who acknowledges and faces their dislike. But it is hard not to be bemused by the Lady of the Shield-arm, so dauntless in all other things, being so wary of a quiet, clear lake, of all things.

His eyes soften a little, and he squeezes her fingers, as much as he can given that she has a death grip on his hand. "Come, trust me. Would I lead you astray?"

"That is... different," she insists, a bit of a gleam in her eyes and a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth though she tries to banish it-- the first outward sign of her own amusement over her silliness. "It does not get in between my toes then!"

It is slimy. With a bit of lingering disgruntlement, she brings her other foot into the water, resigning herself to muddy toes even as she dares to slacken her grip on Faramir's hand a little upon realizing just how tightly she's holding on. A surge of curious, affection-laden frustration wells within her at his question, and she huffs lightly; how unfair, as it only has but one answer imaginable.

"Of course not," she murmurs, silent in acknowledgement of the forever fact for a beat before rallying, "That is not to say I have decided this is a particularly good idea..."

"That depends on how much of it is in your boots!" Faramir retorts wryly, speaking from his extensive experience as a Ranger. Though it is true that Rohan is a dryer land than Gondor, and particularly more than Ithilien.

His eyes sparkle at her. "But if you dislike the mud so, my shieldmaiden--" He steps a little closer, then swiftly bends and collects her up in his arms in a bridal carry. "--would you prefer I carry you into the water?"

It is an offer rather than a threat, as evidenced by the fact that he is not moving, for all that he's lifted her. And the lift is obviously at least as much an excuse to get his arms around her as anything else, particularly as neither of them is wearing much. He's clad only in a pair of linen braies, and his chest is warm against her skin, and his grin is downright wicked. It often is, these past few days, and laughter is never far off.

Any retort on the tip of her tongue gets exchanged for another yelp, of surprise this time, when Faramir scoops her up in his arms. Droplets fall from her wet feet, and her arms wrap tightly about his neck; maybe a little tighter than usually, that spooked expression flickering across her face for a moment as she glances out at the still waters. She's still uncertain, but Faramir has never steered her wrong and would never let her down. She looks back at him, at that smile and the warmth in his eyes... feeling the warmth of his skin against hers is nothing to turn her nose up at either.

Her tone is coy -- as if she doesn't already know -- and her lips curve into the tiniest of smiles. "And you promise not to drop me?"

He raises his eyebrow a little and bends his head to kiss her, his tongue tracing the line of her mouth until it opens for him, sweet with promise.

"Why would l do something so foolish?" he murmurs, pulling away and smirking a little. "When any excuse to hold you is a welcome one? I certainly promise that."

He walks slowly, taking a little care with his footing given the circumstances. But it is a good lake, despite Éowyn's misgivings. The bottom is silty but uniform, largely free of rocks, and the water is not brackish in the least. When he gets to nearly waist deep on himself he halts, still holding her above the water. "All well so far?"

Edited 2018-11-22 00:38 (UTC)

He needn't quest for long, her lips parting for him almost immediately to draw him into a sweet kiss, soft and lingering; comforting and familiar by now, but never unexciting. Kissing Faramir always feels as exhilarating as it did the first time they kissed properly up on the walls of the Houses of Healing, as sentimental as that sounds.

She's smiling when the kiss breaks, tipping her head a little to give him a look, fondly knowing and almost a little chiding; but also in affection. Even after all this time, she is still not entirely used to him showering her with such praises and open declarations of affection, for all that they cause warmth to well up within her heart. But at least she has stopped playfully protesting them. Indeed, at times she'll even add her own opinion on Faramir and his qualities when they are alone, which inevitably leads into showing him. She was always better with actions than words, after all...

"Aye," she confirms, if a little slowly, eyeing the water before them and biting her lip briefly-- an unconscious sign of uncertainty. "Are we going deeper still?"

He smiles back at her, reaching after to bump his nose against hers affectionately. A year of marriage has not made either of them a whit less loving, or less passionate. And it gladdens his heart that she accepts such statements with more ease than she was wont to do, not least as he cannot help uttering them. They are true, after all, and he is a truthful man. And it is so very, very pleasing when she returns the favor by showing how she feels in return...

"That was the idea, yes," he says, teasing just a little. "Can you not think of it as an exceptionally large bathtub? You've certainly enjoyed the few times we've shared one of those." Which times inevitably resulted in a lot of water on the floor.

"The fear of drowning is significantly less in a bathtub, my dear husband. And as I recall, my enjoyment of those times had more to do with the company-- to say nothing of what we got up to doing in the tub," Éowyn snickers-- such times certainly had not been all that conducive to getting clean... She goes on with laughter still cling to her tone, "And do not tease so! There is no swimming in the Mark! Touched in the head we would deem anyone willingly wading into so much water."

"There are those who have said I am touched in the head," he says musingly. "Including yourself." His grin this time teases himself more than her. "But I will not drown, and nor will you. We will not even go so very deep, I promise; you will still be able to stand. In fact--"

As he says it he starts to bend down, to lower them both in the water. It's cool but not too cold, not given the warmth of the weather. If she struggles or protests, he will stop--but at least here she cannot complain about the depth.

"That does not sound like me at all, I am most mild-mannered." Even she cannot keep a straight face at the end of that claim, a little snort of laughter escaping and eyes gleaming with mirth.

But then Faramir is lowering them down, and though Éowyn does not protest or struggle, she does cling to him a little tighter and makes a face as the water envelops her legs and backside -- an unpleasant sensation! Luckily it lasts but a moment -- and all the way up to her waist, her sodden shift sticking to her like a second skin. Also a mildly unpleasant sensation... Lips pinched, she makes a tiny noise from her throat, a tight hum; like she can't decide whether she likes this or not. But at least she is not fleeing wildly, so this could be counted as progress?

He laughs too, but then they are distracted, for she holds him even harder--not an unpleasant sensation, though if she continues too much in this vein he is at risk of being throttled. He manages not to laugh at the face she makes.

"There," he says quietly, once he's kneeling in the water, and shifts her so she's more or less sitting on his lap, though their arms are still around each other. Situated thus he is in up to his collarbone, and her to below her chest. "You can stand easily here, if you wish. Of if you prefer to cling to me, I am not at all minded to object."

In fact his hand wanders a little under her, groping at her arse, more as a distraction than with serious intent. After that he glides his palm up her leg. The lack of friction in the water makes the sensation altogether different than usual, and there is the contrast between the cool water and the warmth of his hand. It's a soothing gesture rather than anything else, and his other arm is still firmly wrapped around her back.

"Oh, are you not?" she says wryly, smirking a little despite her lingering unease at being submerged, even if the water level does not even hit her chest where she perches on his lap. She loosens her hold on him a bit, realizing she's clinging perhaps a touch too tightly. "Most accommodating of--"

Her words cut off on a squeak of surprise when he abruptly grabs her bottom, jumping a little and giving him a glare of reproach; it lacks all heat, however, hardly seriously meant. The distraction works well though, as does the stroke of his hand up her leg. Éowyn is forced to admit the cool water does feel pleasant enough on a warm summer day like this. And perhaps there is something to be said about touching while underwater, too, a sensation vastly different indeed than above water...

"How did you learn to swim?" she asks, relaxing a small measure.

He grins when she glowers at him, entirely unrepentant, his free hand still wandering. He does not seek to move them around further yet; let her have time to get used to this much.

Besides, her wet skin feels wonderful under his fingers.

"As a boy, in Dol Amroth," he answers. "While visiting my uncle and cousins there. I wished to swim in the sea, and they would not permit it until I was a strong swimmer in calmer waters. At first I found that most vexing, but the first time I attempted the ocean my feet were swept out from me at once by the strong currents, and I saw why!"

He laughs a little, for that time is a pleasant memory for him. Not unshadowed, for the visit happened but a few years after his mother's death, and they all grieved for her. But by now Eowyn well knows how he loves his Dol Amroth family, and how mutual is that affection. It had been a good trip, for both him and Boromir. "Boromir, being five years older--and five years larger and stronger!--was already able, and I had been trying to imitate him. I think he had to stand on my chest afterwards, to push out all the water I swallowed."

"And here I thought I was a reckless child!" she laughs once Faramir finishes his story, succinctly distracted and set at ease enough to relax a bit further. What? To Éowyn, daring the ocean seems far more hazardous than crossing a wild boar... for example. She adjusts her hold upon him so she clings less like she fears for her life and more because she simply quite enjoys clinging to him, pointing out with a smile, "The incident evidently did not damage your tolerance of water, I see."

He is glad to see her gradually becoming more comfortable with this, and shifts in turn so he is holding her more loosely. The water teases pleasantly at their skin.

"Not in the least," he says. "Well, perhaps for a day. But then I was all the more determined." Éowyn is not the only one of them who is stubborn at times. He grins, leaning forward and nuzzling his nose against hers before kissing her quickly. "After all, there are so very many enjoyable things to do in the water."

Éowyn laughs softly, having learned during this past year herself just how stubborn her husband could be at times; enough so, indeed, to rival her own mulishness. She's still smiling fondly when he kisses her after rubbing his nose against hers.

"Oh, yes?" Her fingertips draw idle circles against his shoulder, giving him a coy look under her lashes. "Perhaps you might tell me more of these things? For you have much piqued my curiosity now, my dearest love."

As if she does not know what he speaks of, but this line of thought appears to her suddenly a great deal more appealing than swimming lessons... to speak nothing of the distraction of Faramir's bare skin.

"Swimming, of course," he murmurs, moving to nuzzle other parts of her face, sometimes with kisses. "Or simply splashing by the water's edge. Floating and looking up at the sky..."

His hand is caressing her a bit less idly now, long broad strokes along her limbs, brief brushes of the back of his knuckle along the curve of her breast. One arm remains wrapped around her waist to support her, for he promised not to let her drop, and is a man of his word. "And had you not yet noticed how the water teases pleasantly at your skin? Soft and caressing and whispering?"

"Ah." If she sounds perhaps slightly too casual, it is only because she had something a little different in mind. She cannot help but smile as his caresses, however, humming a musical little note from her throat and tipping her forehead against his for a moment, her nose brushing his.

She swings her legs a little beneath the surface, slowly, the cool caress of the water feeling... very pleasant, she has to admit. Not as pleasant as Faramir's palm though, gliding over her limbs; a shudder races down her spine at that brush against her breast, even through her damp shift-- which is starting to feel more and more superfluous in the wake of each touch.

"I had noticed," she says at length, lips twisting into a vaguely reluctant, wry smirk-- fine, he got her to admit this is not entirely terrible! She hopes he's happy now. "I might notice it better still were I not wearing this shift, I suspect..."

Judging by the way his hands wander, and certain other reactions impossible to ignore while she is thus seated on his knees, Faramir has the same thing in mind that she does, for all that he talks of swimming instead. "You would," he agrees at once, helping her to remove it.

That, alas, proves an awkward process, between the heavy-with-water cloth and the length of her own hair. But between them they manage, with some laughter and distraction, and then she is as barechested as he. A fact he immediately proves by pressing her closer. They have shifted somehow in the proceedings, so he is kneeling on one knee with her sitting facing him on the other. Her shift he ignores completely once she is free of it. They can retrieve it later. Much later. "How do you like the water now, my lady?" he asks. "Now that you may feel it more fully..."

Éowyn laughs brightly as they struggle to remove her mostly sodden shift together, fighting a shiver once she's rid of the cloth and pushing back tousled hair with one hand-- the other hurries to return to its place, clasping Faramir's shoulder for support. Done with her hair, she wastes little time wrapping her arms properly about his neck, quite happily pressing flush against him and indulgently stroking her fingers through his hair, now.

"It is pleasant enough, I grant you." She smiles down at him, maybe just a tad impishly, a certain gleam in her eye. "Perhaps not quite as pleasant as this, however."

A similar gleam is in Faramir's eyes, and his mouth curves at the edges. "Think you so?" he murmurs, letting both his hands roam over her skin in slow, tantalizing movements. "Perhaps we should make a thorough comparison of both. Just to be certain."

"Oh, yes," she agrees, her eyes a little hooded already as his deft hands -- gods, she loves his hands! -- travel over her bare skin so temptingly, teasing her. Shivering in a way that has nothing to do with a chill, she presses a bit closer still.

"After all, it is better to be safe than sorry, is it not?" Not that she's usually the biggest advocate of such idiom, but right now, it proves most convenient.

She is wrapped so closely around him, the hard length of him pressed against her belly as she sits on his leg. He hums his agreement before kissing her, a slow dance of tongues. To him, the contrast of cool water and warmer skin is delicious, tantalizing and teasing at his senses. He hopes it is so for her as well.

And if it is not, well, he will simply have to make amends. He hands continue stroking her, arms and back, legs and hips. He cannot resist the urge to pull her in closer at that point, to grind against her a little. Already his impatience grows, try as he might to restrain himself. "How I desire you, my Éowyn!" he murmurs against her mouth. "Can you feel it?"

Hardly a model of patience herself on a regular day, Éowyn responds eagerly, inflamed by the feel of his hard manhood pressing against her belly and his wandering hands that so deftly stroke and caress her body. She can only breathe a little moan against his lips when he grinds against her, shuddering in a way the cool water is not responsible for.

"Faramir," she whispers reverently amid hungry kisses, clear yearning lacing her low tone. Her hands grasp at his back and shoulders desperately, blunt nails digging into his skin as she kisses him with fervor now, playfulness forgotten in favor of pure desire.

Whether it is the amount of time they have spent teasing each other already or simply Eowyn's own unbridled enthusiasm, Faramir is now as desperate as she is. She is still sitting on his knee, which is close to where he would like her positioned, but not close enough.

He grips at her, shifts her so she will wrap her legs around his waist, placing his cock right against her mound. Even with the coolness of the water and the linen of his braies still in the way he can feel her heat, waiting for him...Faramir groans into their kiss, his fingers almost bruising in their grip as he grinds against her. The water splashes around them as they move against each other. He kisses her like a man needing air, as one starving, as though he will never have enough.

Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post 2

Whoohoo!

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I'm a terrible person who's just going to boomerang back at you.

one quick tag back before bed!!

yay! and I hope I've got their positioning right but whatever, run with it

sounds right to me!

Rock. ...also this is so going to turn into more smut, isn't it...

i mean, they're wet and half-naked..... so yes?

YAY MORE SMUT I mean ahem, okay.

no it's definitely a YAY lmao

Of course it is ;)

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