Title & Chapter Number: Brother/Sister 6/11
Author(s): - Author's Index
Website:
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters I just make them do rude things.
Warnings: Het, Incest
Betas: Nope
Cast: Éomer/Éowyn
Timeline: TTT/RotK
Spoilers: Maybe TTT & RotK
Summary: During their one night together, Éomer and Éowyn continue to explore their love
Notes: In Tolkien Eomund died about 17 years before the events of LotR, and is characterised as rash: in this fic his death is more like 7-8 years before, and E+E's impetuous streak comes largely from their mother.
When Éowyn awoke she found Éomer looking at her, as though he may have been for some minutes. She smiled at him.
"Éomer."
"Éowyn." His voice was low, questioning.
"Yes love?"
"Did it really happen? Did we really love each other at last? I don't know if I'm dreaming. I've dreamt it so often."
She laughed softly. "So many times love? Well if this was a dream, did it compare to the others?"
His dark gaze deepened, she was almost drowning in it. "It was beyond them all."
She felt her heart give a little lurch. "Well maybe it was true then. Best kiss me dearest, to make sure I'm really here."
He had to move to be able to bring his mouth to hers. She almost wondered whether their passion would be gone, spent as they had re-fashioned their first agonised encounter into one of mutual fulfillment, but the first touch of his lips upon her told her this was not so. The feel of him set tremors running through her, tingling down through the core of her.
"So soft, so full," she whispered.
"What love?"
"Your mouth is beautiful. Kiss me properly, Éomer. Until I can't breathe."
"Éowyn..."
He gathered her to him. Kissing like the first time all over again, but deeper, sweeter. The first desperate hunger satisfied, but the desire still there to explore, share, be as one.
Éomer's mouth moved firmly across her jaw and down her neck. He drifted down to her breasts and belly, spending sweet minutes there, then, sliding lower, his hands moved to gently part her thighs. His mouth was just starting to travel across the down of her curls when she wound her hand in his mane and lifted his head from her.
"Éowyn, I want to taste you," he protested.
She smiled at him. "I would think love, after your fine performance just then, all you would taste is yourself."
He cocked his head speculatively. "I suppose you are right... but that's easily fixed."
He bounded off the bed, with such energy it made her give a squeak of surprise and sit up. He disappeared into the small bathing room attached to his bedchamber, and when he returned there were soft cloths over his arm and he carried a small earthenware bowl that was gently steaming.
"Ah, the wonders of Minas Tirith," he grinned. "Hot running water. We are peasants in the Rohan by comparison. I think I shall have to consider some improvements to our realm on my return."
He set the bowl on the bedside table and sat down beside her, dipping a cloth in the water gently before fixing her with his dark, heart-melting gaze.
"If my lady will allow..."
Wordlessly, Éowyn moved her legs apart and he softly began to rub the cloth between her thighs. She gave a little gasp to feel its warmth upon her most sensitive skin. He placed the cloth back into the water, wrung it out and wet it again before returning it to her body, this time his fingers curving up a little further into her, moving the cloth gently to cleanse her there. She couldn't explain why this felt every bit as intimate as if he were touching her skin to skin, but she could feel her breath coming faster as she moved against his touch. Lastly he pressed the dry cloth to her gently, barely touching her at all, just taking up the last of the water.
"Will you lay back for me now, love? Will you let me put my mouth upon you?"
She put her arms around him and rubbed her cheek against his, then sought out his lips for a sweet kiss before she lay slowly back down upon the furs. His wide warm hands went around her and pulled her swiftly to where he knelt by the bed, then cupped her soft behind to lift her to his mouth. Kisses dropped upon her inner thighs and then for long moments she could just feel his breath upon her.
"What are you doing, love?"
"I'm looking at you."
"Don't do that!" She felt herself flushing pink.
"Why love? What's not to look at?"
"Éomer..."
"Like a butterfly spreading it's wings... or a many-petalled rose..."
"You're embarrassing me..."
She could hear the smile in his voice. "Oh love I wouldn't want to do that. I shall just have to pleasure you senseless instead."
Without warning his tongue touched her tight bud and sent a bolt through her, making her gasp. She had barely caught her breath when he was licking it gently, keeping up a soft assault until she started to writhe beneath his mouth before he took the nub of flesh delicately between his teeth and tugged until she cried out.
Éowyn lost herself in sensation as Éomer moved lower and started to lap at her entrance, softly parting her folds with his fingers so he could slide his tongue inside and drink in her arousal.
"Oh love," he murmured huskily. "You taste so good... so sweet... I could taste you forever..."
He squeezed her buttocks to him to press deeper inside her, tongue teasing and swirling, his pouting lips breathing against her swollen ones, the soft down of his clipped beard tickling her skin. He moved one hand from her bottom so he could slide warm wet fingers against her while his tongue still wreaked havoc inside her.
Her arms thrown back above her head, Éowyn was gasping and on the brink when Éomer broke away to nuzzle and bite at the soft flesh between her thighs. She moaned both with pleasure at the fierce new sensation and disappointment that he was delaying her release.
"Love, oh love... please..."
He laid his head against her belly, running his palms over her curls and sliding his fingers inside her, exploring her wetness. His voice was low and throaty.
"Tell me what you want Éowyn."
"Please, your mouth on me again... take me there... I beg you..."
Her hands came down to tangle in his mane, so that when he lowered his head back between her legs she pressed him deeper to her, riding his mouth hard as his tongue re-entered her and his fingers returned to stroke her towards climax. Her breathing built to gasps again, then to kitten-like cries, and finally to a long drawn-out scream of fulfillment as she shattered into a thousand shards of pleasure and reformed again as Éowyn, shuddering for breath upon the soft bed while Éomer lay between her legs softly kissing her dew-drenched flesh.
She reached for his hands on either side of her.
"Come lie beside me, love," she managed to get out, and concentrated on calming her ragged breathing as he slid onto the bed and stretched out against her. He reached out and stroked her exposed side with a certain gentle possessiveness she did not mind at all. For this night only she was indeed his, as he was hers. She lifted a hand to his lips to wipe away the wetness there, her own, and he gently bit at the side of her index finger.
"Éowyn, did I give you pleasure?"
"No, I just made all that noise so you wouldn't feel bad."
"Don't tease me..." He smiled but his eyes were pleading, and he sounded almost like a stripling youth who had just touched a woman for the first time. She relented.
"You pleased me senseless, dearest, just as you threatened, and surely you know it."
Éomer nodded slowly. "I do know it, but it know it more to hear you say so. I'm still not sure I won't wake tomorrow to find this is but the sweetest fantasy I've ever had."
"Should I pinch you then, so you know that you do not dream?" she asked, stroking her fingers lazily over his warm skin. "Should I bite you and leave some marks for you to know me by in the morning? Perhaps I could carve 'Éowyn was here' on your back with your dagger..."
"Well now I know I do not dream, for in dreams you only torment me with your body not your saucy mouth."
"Not with my mouth? Love, that's not much of a fantasy..."
"Peace woman," Éomer growled, and covered the offending mouth with a kiss.
How good it felt to lie here with her, laughing together, her body warm and soft against his. He looked at her beautiful face. Her porcelain skin was delicately flushed and there was a glimmer in her grey-blue eyes like moonlight on the water. There was no struggle in her, no strain, no gathering of steel, she was as open and blooming as a summer flower. And gods, the way she looked back at him, touched him. It almost hurt his heart to feel the love flowing from her, and yet the sensation of her restless fingers tracing over his body with such fierce desire fired his blood utterly.
He pulled her body more tightly to his, answering her hunger with his own. His mouth claimed her in a deep kiss which ended in a groan as one of her small hands stole around his manhood and started to squeeze him.
"Touch me too," she breathed against his ear, then nipped it hard, tigress and prey. Hers to command, he slipped a hand between her thighs, losing himself in her softness, her wetness. He closed his eyes and sought to match his sliding fingers to her rhythm on his cock. When her hips started to writhe against him he opened his eyes again to find her grey-blue gaze locked upon him.
"Éowyn..."
"Love..."
As she worked his hard length from base to tip, his fingers traced over and over her tight bud, the moist folds of her womanhood, and the firmer flesh at their base. Her touch was ecstasy, her moans of pleasure a caress, he was drowning in her. Irresistibly, as he moved back and forth over her, his honey-slick fingers were drawn to her other, tighter entrance and the moment came when they rested there, pressing slightly, feeling the tremor that ran through her as he did so.
The force of his desire was such he barely realised his mouth was forming the words before he heard them spoken. "Éowyn, will you let me touch you there? Inside?"
He felt her heartbeat of hesitation and knew what it meant, then saw the resolve in her eyes. "Yes, love."
His ardour cooled enough to clear his fevered mind. He would never force her to do anything for him.
"Éowyn - "
Her small voice was firm. "Love, I want you to."
She leant in to kiss him softly, and he felt the heat instantly rise in him again. If she did not resist his desires then gods knew he could not.
"Trust me, love," he breathed against her. "I will not hurt you. I will bring you pleasure."
He took his hand away from her, and lifted her hand from him with a small groan. He pushed himself up into a sitting position next to her, and gently lifted her legs up and placed them either side of him. He returned one hand to her honey, slicking his fingers and sliding them back to moisten the little tight pucker he was seeking to enter.
With his other hand he cupped her cheek briefly then traced his middle finger across her rosebud mouth until it opened so he could slide it inside.
"Make it wet, love. Make it very wet."
Obediently she suckled on his finger, swirling her tongue up and down it, her eyelashes lowered but her eyes fixed on his. Éomer breathed out raggedly. Even a small act as this she could imbue with as much sensuality as if her mouth was wrapped around his cock. She was made for love.
She released his finger and he moved it slowly down against her, letting it take the place of the finger he already had pressed there. He placed his free hand protectively on her soft belly and closed his eyes, focusing his senses, as his fingertip started to press into her, on the feel of her body around it. That would be his guide, keeping him measured and gentle as she accommodated herself to his touch.
Éowyn felt the strange new sensation of this part of herself stretching around him. Pleasurable, unnerving, like a second maidenhead being claimed. She willed herself to breathe, to relax, to trust. She kept her eyes on Éomer, lids closed over his dark eyes in his concentration, his blond mane shaggy in the aftermath of their lovemaking, his muscled torso lit by candleglow. Beautiful loving Éomer...
She gave a soft gasp as he slid fully into her and immediately stilled to let her get used to the feeling.
Éomer's touch inside me, she thought, but not in my womanhood. Éomer's touch...
Inwardly he sighed as her tight hot grip surrounded him. His hand stroking her belly, he started moving slowly inside her. They both murmured softly as she naturally squeezed against his movements, sending little jolts of electricity through all the nerve-endings between her thighs.
She had thought these gentle sensations, heightened by the intense feeling of intimacy created by his claiming of this part of her, were the sweet sum total of the experience, until he took his hand from her belly, briefly wet two fingers with his mouth, and slid them deep and mercilessly into her honeyed folds. She gave a long, low moan of pleasure.
Éomer's touch, inside me, everywhere...
He let her body still again briefly, before starting his fingers moving in both of these sweet temples of her body, a slow dance where one sensation bowed and gave way to another at one moment then joined with it the next to create an overpowering union.
While she could she watched his face, intent on his work, seeking to make sure he gave pleasure and did not hurt. Seeing his love and devotion only compounded every sensation his fingers were wreaking inside both parts of her, but as her climax inexorably built she could not focus on him anymore, on anything except the fierce pleasure. With her body fully embracing him however, and her fulfillment a certainty, Éomer could now watch her, her eyes closed, neck and back arched, body writhing, arms thrown back and hands gripping the sleeping furs as if a last desperate anchor to reality, little whimpers escaping her. A wondering smile broke over his face to see her thus lost to his touch. His rhythm increased, driving her and driving her until she soared out over the edge, and as she did so her twin wells, one tight and the other tighter still, clenched and unclenched rhythmically against his pleasuring fingers and he felt his cock getting helplessly, ruinously hard as he watched her gasp out her gorgeous release.
He stayed inside her until her lovely eyes fluttered open and took in his face.
"Gods, Éomer..."
He smiled softly at her and moved his fingers just a little against her hot damp flesh.
She laughed. "Mercy, love, I beg you..."
He slowly withdrew from her honey and laid his hand on her belly, bracing there just a little as he carefully slid from her other, tighter grip. She gave a little sigh.
"You know I have no bones left, don't you love?" she told him. "I am just a little mass of jelly. If you want me to move from this bed you'll have to pour me into a bowl."
"Éowyn, I'm not sure I ever want you to move from this bed."
"Ah, sweet man..."
She held out her arms to him and he disentangled himself from her legs and came to lie beside her. Her hands stole into his hair and she pressed her mouth to his.
"Thank you..." she whispered between kisses, "thank you... that was... I cannot describe it..."
"I'm glad to bring you pleasure, love."
She licked his earlobe and whispered low in his ear. "No uncertainty this time I see."
He pressed her tightly to him. "No, I suppose not."
"Éomer..." she smiled against him, nuzzling his cheek.
He started to trace along her neck with his tongue, and she was wriggling delightedly when he stopped.
"Except - "
She lifted his face to hers.
"Except what?"
His expression was apologetic, even a little shy. "Éowyn, I know that was the first time someone has touched you in that way. I...I didn't mean to push you… being with you just excites me so it makes me greedy. I wanted..."
"And I wanted you to, love."
"But if - " He stopped.
"What, love?"
"No, it's alright, it's nothing."
She smiled. "Oh, Éomer, you shouldn't have such expressive eyes that let me see your thoughts if you wish me to believe that. You would know why you are the first to touch me so?"
"No, forgive me, it is not for me to know..."
"Éomer, there is no mystery here. Even where the love runs true and deep, it takes time for lovers to trust each other with all their needs and desires, and to move forward into them together. But you my beloved brother, what time do I need to take to trust you when I have trusted you all my life? Just to feel the force of your desire is to wish to share in it."
He could not stop the smile that beamed from him, and he pulled her to him again with a growl.
"Ohhh," she laughed softly, rubbing her nose against his. "Now I have made you proud beyond measure, male creature."
He drew back in reflection.
"Proud... I hope it's not that... honoured, love. I am honoured that you chose to share yourself with me thus."
She curled herself against his broad chest with a sigh. He brought his lips to her ear.
"And oh gods, love, your beautiful face when you came..."
Laugher gurgled out of her and she pinched his arm.
"Arrgh shield-maiden, is that any way to treat the man who brings you pleasure you cannot describe?"
She punched the same arm and he yelped and grabbed her with one hand, tickling her with the other until she kneed him in the stomach and writhed out of his grasp slippery as an eel. He caught her leg as she went to make her escape, flipped her onto her back and pinned her beneath his hard strength, kissing her madly while she laughed beneath him and pummelled his back with her small fists. When she finally yielded to his mouth, her fists becoming palms that smoothed his back and her body beginning writhe, he rolled around to bring her atop him. He wanted to feel those movements against him while he ran his hands up and down her back and stroked the rounded softness of her buttocks.
His hands roamed over her backside and she nipped his ear. "Harder..."
When he obliged her and started to knead her sweet flesh beneath his capable fingers, pressing each hemisphere away from her cleft and grinding her thighs into his pelvis, she could feel where he had been before inside her all the more, refreshing the memory of her pleasure. Between them his manhood was hot and hard. She felt seized by a sudden recklessness.
"Éomer?" she breathed.
"Yes, love?"
"What you did to me, the way you touched me… do you wish to put your manhood there?"
A low groan escaped him, and his hands upon her stilled. Despite the frankness of her question, he could see fear warring with desire in her eyes, and while his cock twitched in arousal his heart swelled with love for her. He smiled and held her to him more tightly, stroking her hair.
"Gods, the things you offer me woman."
"You don't want to?"
She sounded embarrassed, and he hastened to explain.
"My sweet beautiful love, if we had forever there would be nothing I wouldn't want to explore with you. But if I took you that way tonight, without time, without practice, without a balm to ease the way - " he laughed ruefully "- and there's none in this room right now for all my whoremongering these last days... believe me love, it would cause you as much pain as pleasure, maybe more. I only want there to be pleasure for you tonight, Éowyn. Let it be a treasure you share with your mate. With him you will have all the time you will need."
He held her to him, not feeling as though he was renouncing any sweet temptation, just loving her utterly and thanking the gods he she had come to him for this one amazing night. Éowyn had been listening to him thoughtfully. Now she touched his cheek softly.
"Éomer. What tenderness lives inside you my hard proud stallion, what care. I love you dearest."
He held her gaze for a long moment, his brown eyes brimming with the emotion she stirred in him.
"I love you also, my Éowyn."
Their lips met to seal their words, gentle as a summer breeze. But just to softly kiss was to put the match to the flame, and although they looked into each other's eyes with nothing but love their hands started to roam each other's body with the force of their desire. Sweet minutes of exploration followed, of stroking, of tasting, until Éowyn found herself with Éomer stretched over her, her legs wrapped around his thighs and her hands kneading the flesh around the cleft of his hard buttocks, returning the pleasure he had given her just before. It set her mind travelling.
"I have another question about the way you touched me, Éomer," she said softly. "Do men like it?"
"Ay, some men."
"Do you like it?"
He nodded. "Yes, sometimes."
"Then let me touch you too."
Her eyes were full and shining, filled with the joy of a challenge. "If I could make you feel just a little of what you made me feel... with you to guide me... please let me, love..."
Let her? Éomer thought. Let her? Gods, he would let her do anything she wanted. She could slice him up with his own dagger and feed him to the palace dogs and he would still feel pleasure.
He grinned at her. "Well, you know - perhaps I could indulge you... if you insist..."
She rolled out from under him, knelt on the furs and offered him her hand. "Love, I absolutely demand."
She pulled him up to sitting and he moved to sit on the side of the bed, spreading his legs apart and leaning back on his hands while she arose then slid down to her knees before him. She smiled up and him and he stroked her cheek.
She licked two fingers slowly and reached down past his burgeoning manhood to press his flesh apart and moisten the tight centre of him as he gave a soft sigh.
"Make it wet. Make it very wet," she laughed huskily. "See, I've already learnt your lesson."
She lifted her other hand to his mouth and he took two fingers inside, his tongue stroking them as gently and as fully as it had moved on every other part of her body. She gave a little shiver.
Her fingers had been tracing around him. Now she replaced them with one wet from his mouth and slowly starting to press inside him. I am entering a man, Éowyn thought, what a strange thing.
She was so gentle she barely seemed to be moving, and yet inexorably Éomer felt himself being filled. His pleasure was as much in watching her concentrate, her brow slightly furrowed, her golden tresses falling in tousled cascades over her shoulders and down her back, as in any sweet sensation she was making him feel.
"It's so warm," Éowyn said wonderingly. "Is it hot like that inside a woman?"
"Ay, in both places," he answered. "The sweet heat that is part of our utter ensnarement."
She laughed softly at his words, and then moved inside him in a tiny circle and felt the tight sheath involuntarily clench around her as he gave a little moan.
"Gods love, so sensitive," she smiled up at him, her eyes as bright as a kitten batting at a ball of wool just to see it move.
"There's a little bud you can feel at the front that brings much pleasure, if you move your finger a little forward - aaahh..."
She grinned wickedly "I think I found it."
"Witch-woman."
She pleased herself alternating sliding against his smooth heat with seeking out that sensitive spot, savouring Éomer's every murmur of pleasure, before deciding to ease a second finger inside him.
He raised an eyebrow. "I never taught you that."
"The student is ever destined to outstrip the master," returned Éowyn serenely, and moved both fingers in a slow sensual circle, smiling softly at his helpless groans.
All this time his manhood had reared between them like an onlooker to her ministrations and she had been too intent on her task to pay it any heed. Now she regarded it, swollen and veined and majestic, and lifted her other hand from his belly so she could gently stroke it. She ran her thumb over the moisture that had gathered at its tip and spread it lazily around his head, closing her eyes the better to feel him beneath her touch. His gaze was fixed on her when they flickered open once more.
"You're like suede, love," she breathed, "like velvet. Velvet over hard, hard flesh."
She lowered her mouth to him, lapping at the moisture she had spread upon him, before taking him deeper. Her fingers were still sliding inside his tight grip while her tongue swept around his cock and she traced softly over his balls with her free hand. Éomer wasn't sure which of the three sensations would kill him first, but decided he didn't much care. He stole one hand into her golden hair to hold her as she moved against him, praying that his other hand would support him as his body writhed helplessly beneath her sweet tortures.
She was starting to work him in earnest now. Her lovely caress upon his balls had ceased because she'd returned her hand to his belly to brace herself as she took him into the back of her throat while her mouth and tongue delightfully sucked at him. From time to time she would almost release him before driving down upon him again to claim him more fully, the intervals getting shorter and shorter as they both became more frenzied, sensing his fulfillment approaching.
The sensation of her fingers inside him only added to the frantic pressure building within him as she demanded more and more of him. His hips started to jerk upwards so that he was ramming her throat, and she tried to match her fingers and her mouth to his rhythm to increase his pleasure. He was panting hard and little moans escaped her that only served to excite him further. At the last, as she felt his release gathering inside him, she drove her fingers against the bud he had shown her and he jerked uncontrollably, buttocks clenching tightly and his cock rearing inside her mouth while he held her head, desperately spurting jets of pearly liquid into her throat as he gasped her name over and over.
While he lay panting in the aftermath, she slipped her fingers from him and released him from her mouth, then looked up at him with a lazy smile.
"Éowyn..." His voice rasped dryly, and he wasn't sure he had any more words in any case.
"Sshh..." she murmured soothingly, and drew him down to kiss him, wetting his lips with her own that tasted of himself. Then she rose from the floor and he wrapped his arms around her waist and laid his head on her belly, softly kissing her navel while she stroked his hair.
"Rest a moment love, I'll be back."
She disappeared into the bathroom, and Éomer swung his legs back onto the bed and threw himself among the pillows, wondering if he was ever going to recover. When Éowyn returned she could barely see his face for the blond mane tousled over it.
"Love, you look like a pony some naughty Riderling has neglected to groom."
He grunted faintly from somewhere inside his hair. "Must I give an audience that I should care?"
She laughed. "Only to me Éomer King, and luckily I don't mind you a little mussed."
She sat down beside him and poured a tumbler of water from the jug on his bedside table. She drank a little while she pushed the hair away from his face then offered him the glass. He propped himself up and drank also while she took his other hand in her two small ones and pressed it softly.
"Éowyn," he said when his thirst was quenched and he had set the tumbler down again, "if I had the skill of a poet I don't think I could tell you how amazing that felt."
Her mouth twitched into a smile. "That's alright love, I think you showed me. And I enjoyed myself immensely."
The after-tremors of intense and exquisite pleasure were still subsiding in Éomer, and he smiled back.
"Not as much as I did I assure you."
She put her hand to his belly, stroking the red-brown pelt there.
"You know what I mean love, it gave me pleasure to give you pleasure. And it made me feel so... powerful... to have a part of me inside you, when usually a man is inside a woman, and to have you in my mouth as well. As if every part of you was under my control."
"Believe me, love, there was no 'as if' about it."
She beamed at him bright as a buttercup, and he pulled her down to curl against him.
"You are a bold creature my sweet sister, as unafraid to seek out pleasure as you are to meet pain when it comes. That is a secret of yours I have not known until this night."
"I have only gone where you led me Éomer, only tried to match you as I ever did when we were children."
Memory softly started to flow through her
"You were the bold one, love. You thrust yourself out of our mother's womb before your time you were so anxious to see the world, so she told me. You were sitting a horse before you could walk. And that scar there," she said, stroking a pale line on the inner flesh of one forearm, "is that not where Theodred sliced you open the day you convinced him only babies practiced with wooden swords and the pair of you stole real ones from the armoury. What were you then, eight years old? And I'm quite sure you were propositioning our maidservants before you had properly learned you alphabet."
"Now that is outright slander."
"Oh yes?"
"Yes. I knew how to spell. I used to leave them dirty notes in the kitchen."
They both laughed, and he turned his head to kiss her. He couldn't believe as their mouths met and their tongues sweetly tasted each other than he could feel desire for her arrowing into his groin again. By rights after all she'd done to him his manhood shouldn't stir again for a week, he thought wryly. But from the soft moans that escaped her and the way her hands kneaded his flesh he could tell she felt the same tide of arousal rising within her.
When he broke their kiss for breath he whispered low against her ear.
"Well for your part miss I can recall more than one occasion catching you behind the barns with one of the stable-boys and your skirts over your head when you thought no one was watching."
"Éomer!" she squeaked, fierce fingers pinching his torso. "You never told me that. Did you really?"
"Yes indeed wench," he laughed. "Oh, those sweet white thighs. That's probably where all the trouble started."
"No!" She sounded genuinely horrified.
He relented. "No, no love, I'm teasing you. I was too callow to realise the treasure you were then, gods be praised. You were just my rough and tumble sister. And slowly you grew into my beautiful and beloved sister, your grace and reserve overlaying the fire I have always known burns within. And I only knew I wanted you that night in my room."
They both stilled at the memory of the terrifying moments of desire and despair they had shared then, setting them on the path that had led at last to this night of strange sweet fulfillment.
"I still cannot puzzle it out," said Éowyn softly. "If I had not come to you then - if I had not felt so defiled by Wormtongue, so crushed by Aragorn not caring for me as I wished, so tormented and needing love, would we be here with each other now? If there had been no night like that night, would we have just brushed past each other one day and felt desire flare between us and it would still have come to this? Or would it never have happened at all?"
"I've wondered too, love, so many times, so many nights alone. But I never could find an answer, and I have none now. Except to love you while you are miraculously here in my arms."
He held her a little more tightly to him, and as they nuzzled against each other she whispered in his ear. "Or let me love you."
He rubbed his cheek gently against her. "Have you not already done so, and soundly my talented wench?"
"Yes," she agreed, "with my mouth, and my fingers. Now with my body too."
She kissed him lightly and when he would have held her to him for more she broke away and started to lick and nip her way down his body, lingering on his nipples and his hard belly, before wetting her palm and taking his silky cock in her hand. He groaned and shifted luxuriously under her touch, stretching his arms back behind his head as she squeezed and stroked him.
Éomer closed his eyes to let himself the better experience not just the pleasure she was wreaking upon him but the essence of her, beautiful, ravishing Éowyn, loving him as she had said. She had taken him so thoroughly just before that even though he hardened rapidly to steel beneath her fingers he was not thinking of release, just drifting on the waves of sweetness she set coursing through him.
Suddenly he was aware she was lifting her hand from him, her voice registering a soft distress. "Oh love, I cannot wait. I want you inside me."
His stomach did a little flip as she moved to straddle him, slowly, lazily, her smile sultry.
"Éowyn..." He wanted to feel that luscious smile shape itself into a kiss around his mouth, and he reached up to trace over her lips with gentle fingertips. As she leant down to him he stroked her back and then slipped a hand around to touch her between her legs. Her folds were already moist with her honey and he laughed against her mouth.
"I believe perhaps you do want me inside you at that."
"Mmmn, want," she whispered, taking an earlobe between her teeth. "And need." She nipped at the other one. "And have to have..."
She granted him the kiss he had been seeking but at last she slipped away from his mouth and straightened up over his thighs. She took his manhood in her hand again, and with her other hand she softly caressed herself open and positioned herself over him. His breath caught in his throat as she sank down upon him. She was so slow and deliberate - he knew she wanted him to watch his hard length disappearing inside her, wanted him to really feel her as she stretched to accommodate him within her.
"Lie still love," she whispered. "Let me do the work for now."
And she began gently to move, raising herself up and slowly lowering herself back upon him, softly, measuredly, squeezing herself around him and with him captured fast inside her sliding her hips in small, delicious circles before lifting herself to sweetly begin again.
There was no drifting away now. His eyes were locked to hers, and if his eyes flicked shut as he gasped at some sweet sensation she gave him, they immediately opened to fix on her again. He couldn't get enough of drinking in her sensuous face, the lids of her blue-grey eyes heavy with passion, a smile playing about her lips as she pleasured him.
His hands came up to stroke her thighs, to squeeze her beautiful soft buttocks and hold them against his hips, gently pulling their twin globes apart so he sank into her just a little further, making her moan. He ran his hands up her velvety sides to cup her breasts in his hands and softly pinch her nipples into peaks, and now he smiled also as she placed her hands over his to make him press harder.
While she held his hands to her he started to gently buck his hips under her, and was gratified to hear her gasp as he gave answering sensations to those she was giving him. Their pace started imperceptibly to quicken. She was no longer mistress of his pleasure, the ancient rhythms of sex were starting to seep into them both and direct their movements towards quickening and release. His hands left her breasts and grasped her hips the better to grind himself against her, and she fell forward, hands gripping his sweat-slicked shoulders to give herself more purchase to squeeze her inner walls around him as he thrust harder and harder inside her.
The moans she made driving down upon him while he slammed up into her excited him unbearably and he found himself growling low in this throat, her tight heat drawing his orgasm to her as though it came from miles away inside him, taking sweet hot minutes of soaring pleasure to reach his groin and tear from him to drench her straining wetness with his seed, her rigid clenching around and then opening upon him announcing her own release a heartbeat later.
"Oh, Éomer..." Her soft murmur was like the last caress of their lovemaking.
When her eyes flickered open his dark gaze was upon her.
"Don't move just yet, love," he whispered. "Let me look at you."
While he held her upon him he drank in the sight of her lovely face, gently flushed and dreamy in her contentment, framed by the tousled golden hair that fell in waves to her waist. He stroked the soft, creamy skin of her breasts and belly and buttocks, and her eyes fell shut while she concentrated on the feel of his broad, warm hands moving over her.
For the first time since she had come to his room Éomer felt a terrible pang that it should be another man who would have this beauty in his keeping all the days of his life, sharing her love and making her belly rich with children, and growing old with her as she fell asleep each night in the crook of his arm. But when his hands returned to her waist and she covered them with her own, opening her eyes and giving him a melting smile, he pushed the pain away. He was blessed that this love that must be renounced should have lived so fully this one night.
He lifted her gently from him and she lay beside him. Soft minutes of peace and closeness passed, before being broken by a small but distinct rumble from Éowyn's stomach. Éomer gave a surprised laugh.
"Are you hungry, love?"
She smiled up at him. "Yes I am rather. I couldn't eat over dinner, I was too nervous about what I'd made up my mind to do. I don't think tonight is quite the night to run into anyone on the way back from raiding the kitchens however."
Éomer nodded in rueful agreement. It was definitely not the night.
"I might have some riding rations in my pack if you're desperate."
Éowyn bounced up immediately. "Believe me love I am."
"It's in the chest over there. I'll light a few more candles so you can see."
While he did so Éowyn slipped on her robe in the cooling air then retrieved Éomer's leather travelling pack from the chest and started to rummage through it. She came up with a pouch containing some hard biscuit and some pieces of dried apple.
"It's not much," said Éomer dubiously, but Éowyn's eyes lit up.
"It's like food from an Elven table to me right now," she said, wrestling the pouch from the pack. Something small fell out along with it and when she picked it up she found it was a slender plait woven from four locks of hair, two blond, one blond flecked with grey and the other a rich russet colour, each themselves woven through with a different-coloured delicate thread.
Éowyn lifted it up to the candlelight, wondering.
"Éomer, is this...?"
"Yes, that's us. You, me, mother and father. Mother bound it for me to take with me on my first campaign, to have the strength of our family with me to keep me strong and safe from harm."
"I have never seen this, why have I never seen this? It's so beautiful."
Éomer shrugged. "I guess I was a little embarrassed when she first gave it to me, you know how it is for boys that age... part of you too full of foolhardy young manhood to feel the need of such a talisman, part of you too afraid to admit you will treasure it. It has always gone with me everywhere since then."
Éowyn curled up on the bed with him, smoothing the plait over her knee, unable to resist its silent call pulling her back into the past.
Their father Eomund, blond and grey eyed, schooled and reserved but given to odd moments of wicked humour that their mother encouraged in him, had loved his children but had had high expectations of their behaviour. Éowyn had submitted to his discipline far more easily that Éomer, no less strong or rebellious, but understanding the need for outward obedience while harbouring her own thoughts. Pride had come to them from both mother and father but their native impetuousness without doubt from their mother. She was King Theoden's sister Theodwyn, but she had always hated having a name so similar to his and from early in her life for all but royal business she called herself Wyneth. She was russet-haired and dark-eyed, a restless flame of a woman, quick to laugh, quick to flare in annoyance or passion, endlessly loving. Éomer carried her energy within him now. But that energy had stilled at the last when Eomund had been killed in an orc raid in the first years of Saruman's treachery while brother and sister were still in their teens. It was a grievous loss not only to their family but to all of Rohan. The King had always looked to his grave, loyal brother-in-law for support and advice, and his death had left an empty space that Theoden longed to fill, and had done so, ruinously, with Grima Wormtongue. Éomer and Éowyn had had to watch their uncle slide into hopeless dependency without their father's stern strength. Had their firebrand of a mother lived she would have put up a fiercer fight than anyone else was capable of against Theoden's embrace of Wormtongue's influence. Instead her children had had to stand by as she had slowly sickened and eventually died, no matter that she adored them both to distraction, because she simply could not live without her beloved mate.
A thought came to Éowyn that she tried to resist but could not, and when she spoke her voice was small and stricken.
"How would they have... what would they have... about us, I mean... oh, Éomer..."
She sagged against him, and he put a protective arm around her shoulders.
"I know, love, I know. I have always tried to push that thought away, because all I can ever see is father disowning me for daring to lay a hand on you. Mother too probably."
"Nay dearest, she loved you too much. She would have struggled to understand, for both of us."
She thought about Wyneth's intensely maternal spirit, and her regret that she had only been blessed with two babes.
"I think she would have cared not for dishonour but rather for the fact that if we were together we could never give her grandchildren. I can see her berating us roundly for that."
"Yes," Éomer agreed. "For about three days. At the top of her voice. Maybe using a big stick for emphasis."
In spite of herself Éowyn laughed at Éomer's unerring picture of their unrestrained mother, but it was followed with a sigh.
"We can never really know, can we? Even they would not know how they would feel unless they had really been faced with it..."
"True, we cannot know, Éowyn. But I believe that when we them meet again in the halls of our ancestors there will be nothing but love, with all the mysteries of this life understood and forgiven."
Éowyn's eyes filled with tears for the parents they had lost, and something more.
"I would have understanding and forgiveness in this life too."
Knowing she meant from Faramir, Éomer held her tenderly.
"Don't be afraid little one. I doubt not that mother will have her grandchildren at last. Little half-Gondorian Rohirrim."
She nodded slowly in agreement, trying to convince herself that it would be so. Éomer grasped at the nearest thing to distract her from her doubts.
"Why don't you eat a little now love, now you've raided my pack? I may as well have some too since you set such delights before me."
And so they made a modest picnic of biscuit, apple and water, talking softly of days gone by in the Rohan, and Éomer's hopes for its days to come under his kingship.
When they were finished and Éowyn set the pouch beside the bed, she found herself giving a prodigious yawn.
"Love you are tired," said Éomer, with a smile. "And come to think of it so am I. We should sleep awhile."
For the first time it struck him that somehow this night must have an ending.
"Or," he said slowly, "you should leave me."
She looked at him. "I don't want to leave you, love. Not yet. But if we sleep now surely we will not wake until it is past day."
"Éowyn, you forget. If a Marshal of the Mark does not wake to rouse his company who will? Trust me, the dawn shall not catch us abed."
She gave a small delighted laugh. "Your warrior's clock - indeed I do forget. In that case, stop hogging the furs and make some room for me."
She blew out the candle and swung her legs onto the bed. Éomer wriggled over so she could lie beside him, and drew the coverlet over them both. His arms stole around her as she curled up and murmured against him.
"I found it so hard to wake during my brief time as Dernhelm. I spent half the night thinking about what had happened between us and aching for you and only ever slept towards the dawn. They had to haul me out every single morning, and only forgave me because they thought I was such an untried youth."
Éomer was softly incredulous. "You ached for me?"
Her voice caressed him in the darkness. "Of course love. I did not leave that night because I did not want you. I burned to join with you. But after everything - Wormtongue's lust, Aragorn's rejection -if I had woken next morning to find I had lain with my own brother I would have run mad. It would have confirmed all the awful things I had come to believe about myself, that I was warped and stained and unfit for any normal love. To fall honourably in battle seemed preferable, so I made ready my disguise and went out to meet my fate."
She pressed a warm palm against him and began to stroke him in a long, slow motion from neck to pelvis and back again.
"They say love made in a time of war is the more desperate and passionate to beat back the proximity of death, but it must work as strongly on mere desire too, because my need for you just seemed to grow more frantic with each passing day of our ride to Gondor." She laughed wryly. "Gods, had it not been for the Lord of the Nazgul I probably would have made you take me on the battlefield."
He groaned at the memory of his hunger. "You would not have had to ask me twice."
Her hand upon him stilled and she curled against him. "Éomer, the course of my life changed that day, and you have suffered much because of it. That fell creature sent me into the vale of death, and when Aragorn led me out of it and Faramir was there to help me heal it was as though I had been given a new life: a life with no blackness and confusion, a life for me to do over and get right, as though I were a new Éowyn. I was wrong of course, I was the same woman I had always been, only with every passion and emotion I had ever felt pressed down deep inside to leave space to let the horror pass through without taking me with it. It took time for those feelings to return to me. I only wish they had come back sooner so we could have had this reckoning before you lived through so much pain."
"I thank the gods they did not Éowyn," said Éomer gravely. "It gave you time to find your mate unfettered by this strange love between us that cannot live in the waking world."
He felt her hand start to stroke him again. "No… not in the waking world. So let us dream together a little longer."
He kissed her hair softly. "I will dream with you as long as you let me, love. But first let us sleep."
Her breathing was already slowing and her voice becoming hazy.
"As you command, Marshal of the Mark..."
Sweet as any touch she had given him that night was the feel of her flesh against his as she fell asleep in his arms. He wished he could stay awake longer to savour the quiet joy it gave him, but as brief minutes passed he felt his own eyes drifting shut, and he murmured against her his last thought and blessing before he slept.
"Éowyn, I love you... I will always love you. Sleep well my dearest."
In his dreams they walked together across a field of wildflowers towards a great hall he had never seen before, and as they drew close he saw their parents in the doorway, welcoming them home.
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