She had almost forgotten, in all the years since she grew tall enough to look down her nose at some of the riders in her éored, how it feels to be backed into a hard surface by a man larger than her; Eskel's hand on her jaw feels enormous, the grip he has on her waist firm but not bruising, and a part of Éomer thrills at the promise in that hold.

Letting her hands lift to settle on Eskel's broad shoulders, she curls her fingers in the soft linen of his shirt and lets herself be kissed, considering the unfamiliar sensation of his lips against hers, the stubble on his chin scratching pleasantly as she shifts a little against him to kiss him more firmly.

It's not unpleasant. Not by a long shot.

"Can you...feel that?" she asks, barely pulling away to murmur in the scant space between them, letting her lips brush against the torn part of his mouth where the skin did not quite heal back together again.