Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post 2

[questionablewit]

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Comments

[freo]

"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..."

[whattheydefend]

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..."

[freo]

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."

[whattheydefend]

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."

[freo]

"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.

[whattheydefend]

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?"

[freo]

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.

[whattheydefend]

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.