hlaefdige | open rp post

Making a soft noise, she untwists her arms and moves over to the bed, perching on the edge of it and displaying her back to him, sweeping all her braided hair over one shoulder to expose the ties she was struggling with.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she says.

"I'm glad you did." He assures her, kneeling on the mattress and making quick work of her laces. Happy to kiss the back of her neck as he begins to strip her of her evening clothes.

Breathing easier once the dress has been loosened a few degrees, she hums quietly and lets her head fall forward, displaying more of her neck to his questing lips as he helps her undress.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Mmhmm." He assures her, letting his hands wander plenty while he's methodically divesting her of this dress. "Must have needed it." He nips at her neck. "I did work myself ragged in the way." He laughs. "But I slept like a stone, so you'll find me wide awake now, I think."

Diplomacy and other queenly duties exhaust her in ways being a soldier never could; Éomer is well-used to the physical fatigue of training or riding hard for weeks at a time, but some days even just a few meetings is all it takes for her to feel like curling up and taking a nap herself.

"You are welcome to rest here anytime, Eskel," she says quietly, smiling as he nips gently at her skin. "In any season."

Maybe it's a fantasy, but the idea that he might find it safe enough to return to her when he needs to recuperate is a nice one.

"Maybe I'll make a habit of it. Of stopping here before I loop back around and head home in the winter." He considers, gently tugging the dress from the shoulders so she can step out of it. "But it's unwise for me to promise."

Straightening, she lets him peel the dress away from her, stepping out of it and bending to drape it over whatever part of furniture is closest so it won't crease too badly or collect any dirt from the floor when she's not wearing it.

"I, however, can promise to always be here," she replies, sounding both amused and wistful about it. She used to lead a rather nomadic life, too.

Not any more.

It doesn't really occur to him that she means being confined to the palace. He's just glad she still wants him to return to her. He stretches out on the bed and beckons her forward. "Come here, darlin'. I liked fucking you on the desk but it seems a waste of the bed."

Pointing out that fucking on the bed might feel strange because this has always been her uncle's bed, in her mind, she pushes that aside and climbs up into bed as well, settling herself down at his side in the way that's become comfortable and natural after only a few times together.

She wants to ask him about returning home for the winter, if he does that every year, how much of his home is left for him to return to, but she is also aware that now is perhaps not the best time for such conversations, considering he seems in an amorous mood.

So instead she just leans in and kisses him slowly.

He's more than happy to just kiss her to start, though he does let his hands wander over her thighs as he leans into the kiss. Nudging her over onto her back, intending to settle on his knees between her thighs.

Letting herself be nudged, Éomer shifts to get herself comfortable as Eskel looms over her, lifting her arms to twine them around his neck now that he's not wearing spiked armor to prevent her. He's so much more approachable like this, with his hair mussed from sleep, dressed only in his smalls and an un-laced chemise. Not that she, obviously, had any trouble approaching him any other time, of course, but still.

He loves the way her strong arms loop around him, the look of her laid out on the pillow beneath him. He's thought about how she'd look like this for miles. This and other ways; he wonders of she can steal some time to ride out with him: he'd love to see her with her flaxen hair laid out on the grass, her pale eyes the same color as the open sky. But he's happy to have her just like this for now...

He sits back on his heels and pulls his short off over his head, medallion jingling as it settles on his chest. He glances up at her, eyes glittering in the low light as he nips down her torso.

If he voices that wish to her, she will do her utmost to fulfill it; a ride out into the countryside sounds like the perfect cure for the restlessness that's been simmering under her skin lately, and if anyone tries to suggest she rides out with a guard to watch over her she's fairly certain she could overrule them.

For now, though, she's happy to remain here, pressed into the bed beneath him as he presses his mouth to her skin, prowling down her body in a way she's fairly certain will produce only good things for her.

She'd be right: Eskel shimmies down the bed until her thighs frame his face. He grins at her, keeping eye contact as he bites into the little bit of softness at the inside of her thigh, sucking a bruise to the surface. Now she'll have cause to think of him when she's trying to sit and attend to her royal duties. When he's satisfied with his handiwork, he sets his lips and tongue to far gentler and more precise work between her thighs.

Like she doesn't think of him anyway when she's trying to do her duties, knowing he's only a few rooms away.

Sighing, she lets go of his shoulders so he can settle himself between her thighs, a soft cry slipping past her lips as he bites at her thigh to raise a bruise blooming beneath the skin, squirming a little from the sharp spark of pain but immediately soothed when he switches to licking delicately at her cunt instead.

He builds things much more slowly this time. Ordinarily, he'd dive between her thighs like a starving man but he knows better. So he'll taste and tease her, enjoying all the little noises somewhere above him, his enormous hands wrapped around her thighs to hold her close.

Maybe it's because she's tired, maybe it's because they got the frantic coupling of reuniting over with when he first arrived, but Eskel deciding to take his time isn't met with any impatience from Éomer, who instead stretches herself out comfortably beneath him, slinging one long leg over his shoulders and letting the other splay open wantonly as much as she can given his big hands holding her as they are.

He hums and growls, running his hands over her thighs and hips, the plane of her stomach to enjoy the shift of her muscles. She's really beautiful laid out like this and it's a pleasure to take his time with her.

It's a pleasure for her as well, to feel his hands stroke over her possessively as his hot mouth presses so sweetly to her cunt. Reaching down, she cards her fingers through his hair, lifting her head just enough off the pillows so that she can look at him and marvel at the sight he presents, settled between her thighs.

"You really enjoy this, don't you?" she asks breathlessly, grinning at him. "Good."

"Mmhmm..." He laughs, lifting his head to kiss her thigh. "You make such pretty noises, how could I not?" He grins, licking his lips and leaning into the way she cards her fingers through his hair.

She's gentle about it, petting him like one would pet a favored pet, smiling down at him as she meets his cat-like eyes with their pupils blown wide and dark. It's probably because of the lack of light in her chambers, only a few candles providing illumination now that the sun has gone down, but she's going to be selfish and pretend it's because he's so taken with what he's doing.

"I suppose you inspire me."

"How so?" He asks, though it's clear he doesn't expect an actual answer, as he dips his head between her thighs again, intensifying his efforts.

To make those pretty noises he likes so much, is what she meant, but she lets the thought go when he ducks his head down and licks at her again, his tongue a welcome pressure against her clit that makes her want to squirm.

It could be mere seconds later, or maybe even hours, but eventually the firm press of his tongue isn't quite enough for her and she tightens her hand in his hair.

"Give me your fingers," she demands.

He'd been waiting for her to say so, more than content to try this and that, just enjoying the way she sighs and moans beneath him.

Not that he isn't also feeling a need for something more. Some time ago he'd begun a half-conscious slow grind against the sheets beneath them.

He indulges her. Sinking first one, then two of his fingers into her as he draws his clit between his lips.

It doesn't take her long after that. Eskel's fingers are talented, indeed, to be able to conjure up fire from thin air and her climax from her body so easily. Perhaps she should try to be a little less easy to please, but Éomer sees no point in it. Denying that he brings her pleasure is pointless, and it seems like all it would do would be to mean there would be less pleasure to be had.

The aftershocks last a long while this time, her muscles fluttering around his fingers as she catches her breath, uncurling her fingers from his hair and forcing her thighs to relax from about his ears.

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