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Théo and Éomer: It has been so long ...
I arrived at Karl's in good spirits today, and found you waiting for me on the porch. It has been longer than usual since we have seen each other, and I park up the bike, pulling off my helmet as I walk quickly towards you, a grin on my face. It isn't until I get closer that I see the heavy bandage on your hand covered in a blue sleeve, and evidence of a fight, going by the fading bruises and marks on your face.
My brow furrows, and I reach out and put my hand on your cheek, examining your face, knowing by the age of them that these must be Karl's injuries, not yours. The bandage on your hand is rigid, designed to hold it still, so I guess that it is broken, but I get a demonstration of how little it bothers you by the way you pull me to you.
I manage to growl out "Missed you …" before your mouth is on mine, tongue plundering. My fingers dig roughly into your hair, kissing you back hard, grinding my hips against yours as you thrust them forward.
Éomer: “Naked, now!” I order roughly, my need for you grown beyond all reason. I had been worried when Karl would not let me shift for so long that our meeting with his lover had damaged my agreements with him. But he seemed happy to let me meet you today, leaving me here as quickly as he could.
I pull your hand down to my groin, letting you feel how much I want you, before I jerk you sharply into the house, tugging my clothes off, helping you out of yours. We stagger down the hall way to the bedroom erratically, tripping over things as we go. I pull us both down onto the bed, rubbing all over you, not caring who does what, just wanting to get my skin on yours.
Théo: I laugh as we hit the bed in a tangle of limbs, squirming in your grasp as we wrestle. First underneath you, nipping at your jaw while you ravage my neck, arching up against you as you growl in my ear, then twisting, pushing you back. Grasping your forearms, remembering at the last second not to grab your wrist I bend down to worry the ring in your nipple as I hold you down gently. Once both nubs are hard and red after all the attention, I lick a broad stripe up your chest, and up the side of your neck.
You buck beneath me, and your mouth finds mine again, taking, demanding. My hands run down your arms, nails scraping lightly over your biceps, and then your fingers are digging into my hair, our tongues battling before you pull me back to get better access to my neck. My hand searches blindly for the nightstand, fingers closing round my prize. "Want to ride you, my stallion …" You wrench your head away to look at me, eyes darkening, keeping your grasp in my hair, and my neck taut. "Make me ready?"
Éomer: My body is already moving for me in our dance. I want you so badly, want you to ride me, to make me feel everything you do to me. I take the tube, my splinted fingers clumsy so I use my teeth to assist me, awkwardly squirting a large dollop of lotion into my uninjured hand.
My hand closes around you while I hold your eyes, biting my lip to prevent myself from crying out at the feel of you so hard for me, my body bucking and squirming in anticipation. My desire is rising heavy and hot as I trace my fingers over your rigid length, feeling silky skin slipping over iron hardness, outlining veins and running along your length, sliding easily now as the lotion coats you. I spread my legs, pushing against you, urging you. “I want to feel you all the way in me.”
Théo: Your hand on my cock, sliding slickly up and down my length is almost as intoxicating as your wild, unchecked need for me. I take you without any preparation, your urging matching my desire to feel you so tight and hot around me. Each push takes me deeper, your muscles gripping me so hard and I hold on to the last fragment of restraint until I am buried in you to the hilt.
My first thrusts are slow, deliberate, long strokes, my arms taut as I look down at you, but it has been so long I cannot hold back. My mouth catches yours as I slam into you, and I swallow your cry as you arch off the bed, wrapping me in your arms before I can move again, tongue thrusting into my mouth as I thrust into your body and I can feel your hardness trapped between our bellies.
Éomer: I am stretched wide around you, your broad shaft pressing on me in ways that leave me panting and gasping, twisting underneath you, trying to get as much contact from you as possible. My motions scrape my sensitized cock over the rough hair of your stomach and I push against you, wanting more contact.
“Missed you, love!” I cry as you release my mouth, but the pounding you are giving me anchors me and erases the loneliness I feel without you. You give me a tight, wild grin and grip my hips, changing your angle and bolts of pleasure shoot through me, the contact between us on my cock and your relentless prodding of the sensitive place inside me enough to send me convulsing around you, calling you, fisting your hair as I explode over us.
Théo: The sight of you coming apart below me, gripping me even tighter, tips me over the edge. I almost howl as your hand tightens in my hair, forcing myself even deeper than before, my release pumping into you over and over again … Letting my arms relax, I bend down to kiss you, nibbling on your lips before burying my face in the crook of your neck, into your hair, nuzzling and breathing you in as you hold me close. "It has been so long." I murmur, knowing that as far as days go, we have been apart for longer, but that is not how it feels.
I can never get enough of having your skin against mine. The feel, the smell, the taste of it, and since this is something we cannot share every night, I intend to make the most of it while we are together. I move in your arms, smiling at you and kissing you as I finally pull out. Using the first thing I grasp to clean us up, I stop before I wipe your seed from your belly, and grin up at you before pushing you back to the bed. Lowering my head to your stomach, I clean up every drop with my tongue, leaving whorls in the hairs on your belly, eventually sucking your still half hard cock into my mouth to finish the job, holding your hips tight.
Éomer: Your attentions are reviving my interest as you suck and clean my cock. I decide to let you rest a bit first before I attack you again. But now it is time to touch, to caress slowly, let my hands know the feel of you again. The fingers in this splint are oddly sensitized and I explore the feeling while I trail my fingertips over you.
“I am not to get this wet, but I would like to bathe with you, when we have rested.” I comb my uninjured hand through your hair, enjoying the texture, wanting to wash it for you, wondering if I can manage it and still follow Karl’s instructions.
Théo: I kiss my way up your chest to lie in your arms, purring at the attention you give my hair, rubbing my head against your hand and kissing your wrist. My fingers explore your back, trailing up your spine and pressing gently into the muscles.
"I would like that." I brush the hair back from your face, smiling. "I miss your touch when we are apart."
I reach for your injured hand, running my fingers over the ends of yours, and examining the casing. "Does it hurt?" Even though I know these are Karl's injuries, you wear them and it is hard for me not to see them as yours. "What happened to him?"
Éomer: I inspect the splint carefully. It immobilizes my fingers up to the first knuckle and then comes up my arm almost to my elbow. I rap the knuckles of my other hand on it, it seems to be some type of mortar.
“There is a dull ache where my palm is, enough that I know about it, but not anything that bothers me.” I’ve been hurt worse and I grin at you and arch into the hand caressing my back, kissing your neck.
“Karl said that he was in a bar fight.” I remember from our own adventures how easily that can happen, even when one has no wish to fight. “It seems the people in this world have so much peace and ease that they must turn things that should be relaxing times for all into an opportunity to brawl.”
Théo: There is a pleasant little tingle radiating out from where your lips locked onto my neck, and my fingers tangle in long strands of your hair. I am intrigued by the casing, thinking on the practicalities of using a similar system back home, and wondering if it would help breaks heal faster. Then I realise you are looking at me, and smile sheepishly, burying my face in your neck before kissing my way round to your lips and giving you my full attention.
"I do not think they know how fortunate they are, to live in a place and time like this." I kiss you harder, pressing against the small of your back to pull you closer. "A place of coffee and chocolate." I smile at you and nibble on your lip in between words. "Of showers and bikes and Jack Daniels and electricity and soft beds …" And just to prove a point, I throw myself back onto the bed, sinking into the quilt, and pull you down to me.
Éomer: I smile at your recitation of things that you enjoy here, wondering if this list reflects the order which you treasure the delights of this world. I cover you with my body happily, thinking that my list is somewhat different.
“Soft beds are my favorite part of this world, that and delicious Rohirrim to fill them.” I swipe my tongue up the center of your chest. “Although, the potions and unguents they have for the care of the hair are most extraordinary.” I look at your hair reflectively, picking up a strand and rolling it between my fingers. It seems you could benefit from a visit to the french, but sadly I do not remember where his place of business is located. Much has happened since that time and I believe we would require the assistance of the Elf-man for such an adventure. I should suggest it to you some time, for I know I would be most amused to hear your opinion of the french.
Théo: "Ah, then we are in agreement." I smile happily and push the hair back from your face as you lap at my chest. "Because this, you and I here in this soft bed, is my favourite thing from all this world has to offer."
I smile again when you mention the things you like to put in your hair and then you examine mine with a critical eye. You seem fixated on it today, but that is no bad thing.
"Are you implying that my hair is not up to your exacting standards?" I tease, smirking. "Perhaps I should try these potions of yours, maybe then it will meet with your approval …" My words die off as your fingers, which have been threading through my hair, reach my scalp, making it tingle.
Éomer: I flex my fingers on your scalp, sliding the skin gently over bone, scratching lightly with my short nails, and moving my hand over your entire head, slowly, slowly. You push against my hand like Paris’ cat, and I smile, enjoying the feel of your skin and your hair under my fingertips. I move my hand down to massage the tendons running from your neck, wishing I had the use of both hands so I could do this for you properly.
You are nuzzling against me, sending heat to my groin, but I want to feel our skin, slick and wet, sliding against each other, so I tug you out of the bed, smacking you sharply on the buttocks. “Come, I want to wash you.”
Théo: After almost melting under your touch, I gasp at the slap on my backside, staring at you indignantly, but you ignore me and pull me into the bathroom. You start the water running into the tub, and turn back to me. Much as I want you to continue with what you were doing, and for you to bathe me, there is the matter of not getting the casing on your hand wet.
It is becoming harder to concentrate on practicalities, though, as you pull me to you, stroking the back of my neck which is still highly sensitive after your earlier attentions.
Éomer: I bury my nose in the back of your neck and inhale. "Mmm." I nibble on the secret place under your hair, holding you still while you shift against me. My body is starting to get extremely interested in your actions and I groan as you move against me.
The tub is full enough, so I get into it carefully, keeping my left arm up, resting it on the rim of the tub. I swish the water over my lap with my other hand, inviting you to sit down on my legs. "You will have to assist me," I say, my voice husky, enjoying the sight of you.
Théo: The tone in your voice sends shivers down my spine and I join you in the tub, straddling your legs and sitting back on your thighs. I trail my wet hands up your chest, fingertips ghosting over your nipples until they harden into tight little nubs.
I lather up the scrunched up net that I remember feels so good on the skin, and move it in circles on your stomach. My hair flops down over my face, and I look at you through the strands, my eyes playful and my voice rough. "How can I be of assistance?"
Éomer: That was not exactly what I was thinking of, but your touch on my skin and your voice give me ideas. I am hard enough already and I want to feel you squirming on me. I wrap my hand around your neck and pull you to me for a kiss.
“Wet your hair and then turn around.” You do as I say and I pull you back against my chest, pushing wet strands away with my mouth to lip at your ear. “Now . . . open yourself and then lower yourself onto me. I am going to wash your hair.” I cannot use my hands to guide your movements, so you will have to decide how you wish to push yourself down on my hardness. I flip open the shampoo bottle with my teeth and get some of the herbal smelling substance on my hand.
Théo: I squirm against your chest at the thought before doing as you say. Sitting up, I run my still soapy hands down my cleft. Knowing you are watching makes me feel wanton, and I ease my cheeks apart, running my fingers over my entrance. I slide two fingers into my body, groaning as they sink deeper, moving them slowly in and out a few times, but I am hungry to feel you inside me.
I reach for your cock, teasing myself with it before slowly sinking down onto it. Just the head at first, letting myself adjust to your thickness opening me up from this angle, and then with a shudder I lower myself the rest of the way until I can feel your wiry hairs on my spread cheeks. My back arches as your hardness fills me and my head drops back towards you.
Éomer: I still for a moment, relishing the feel of your heat clasping me, your body hard against mine. A few deep breaths and I have quelled the urge to slam into you, the urge to brand you with my possession of your body. I purr softly, letting you know how you affect me.
Then I push your head forward, running my hand through your hair, spreading the thick liquid through your pale yellow strands, darker now with the water. My fingers move strongly against your head, rubbing and soothing while I work the lather through your hair, moving down onto your neck and not forgetting to caress your ears. I wonder how long you will be able to remain unmoving against the flesh that is filling you as I carefully keep my left hand away from any moisture.
Théo: My breathing is becoming increasingly ragged and the feel of you buried deep inside me at the same time that your fingers work over my scalp hold me still for a while, almost in a daze. The shivers and tremors running through my body from where your fingertips touch me cause my muscles to contract around your thick shaft and as they increase, more and more of my skin prickling as a result of what you do to me, I rock my hips backwards and forwards, the movement small to begin with. This delicious friction adds to the sensory overload until I am twitching at your every touch, trying to rub myself against your ever moving hands as my hips move faster, my own erection aching to be touched, but I resist, wanting to make this last.
Éomer: I almost ask you to stop several times, but the way you are moving against me feels too good, so I push away the orgasm, stopping my hips which have begun to dance in time to your movements. Each time when I am calmer, I start again, small movements, just clenching my muscles enough to push into you.
I tilt your head back and cup my hand, rinsing your hair, working carefully until all the soap is gone. I put more of the shampoo in my hand and move to the hairs covering the base of your cock, softened now by the water. “Not quite finished,” I whisper. I rub the lotion in, moving your hardness out of the way, caressing your balls, occasionally giving a firm stroke to your cock.
Théo: Once the last of the rinsing water has run down over my shoulders, my movements become more pronounced. I can feel the hairs on your chest against my back and I writhe in your grasp as your hand works through my lower thatch of hair, moaning as your fingers slip and slide between my open legs, gasping every time they touch my erection.
My hips are moving faster now, the small movements almost enough to get me there, and I let my head drop back onto your shoulder, my hand reaching back and digging into your hair as my lips seek yours out. "Make me come, Mer, need to come …"
Éomer: “Want to feel you come,” I growl against your ear, my hand settling into place, slick from the shampoo, moving over you firmly, base to tip, my fingers curling over your leaking slit with every stroke. Your head falls back on my shoulder as your hips move faster and your body bows with your orgasm, you shaft throbbing and spurting in my hand.
The feel of you pulsing around me, so tight, so hot as you move, does it for me and my muscles contract driving myself into you the best I can without using my hands, a snarl falling from my lips as I fill, waves of pleasure radiating out from where we are joined.
Théo: With a shuddering sigh, I let myself relax back against you as the last of the tremors wrack your body. My scalp still tingles from the memory of your fingers, and it is sending shivers of pleasure from where my head lies on your shoulder. You are still buried deep inside me, and there is a pleasant ache from being impaled on you like this, feeling you as if you were a part of me.
I do not particularly want to move, but know it is necessary, so shift with a groan so I can pull myself off you. It does mean I can slip between your legs and lie back against you for a while, turning to look at you and drawing you down to kiss me.
"I think we need fresh water so I can help you bathe." I glance at the casing on your hand, considering the options and how best not to get it wet. "Bath or shower?"
Éomer: I try to imagine standing in the shower and hanging my arm out of it. “Bath, I think.” I stand up to let the water out, this ‘cast’ is inconvenient. You fiddle with the taps until fresh water is streaming into the tub at the perfect temperature. I settle back down with a contented sigh.
“I think I still prefer baths to showers,” I say drowsily. I think I could take a nap here, but I resist the urge to sleep. Now that our urgency is muted, I want to talk to with you, to take a meal with you, to just spend time with you doing what may suit our fancy.
Théo: "I enjoy both." There is a lot to be said for taking a bath together, the warm water surrounding us, but standing under hard jets of water while being taken also has an appeal. I lather up the net again, and wash your long limbs, your torso as you relax, paying particular attention to the spots that make you growl softly and careful not to get the cast wet. "But with you, I think baths win." Then I slip in behind you and wash your golden hair, using the lotions you direct me to use. I take my time, working my fingers through the long strands and rinsing it thoroughly. By the time we are drying each other off, your stomach is growling, and I grin at you, moving closer to kiss you.
"Ah, another appetite that needs to be satisfied. Come, let us see what treats we can find in Karl's fridge, or perhaps we can arrange for pizza to be delivered." Either way, we have the rest of the day together which I am looking forward to. So I take your hand, and pull you off towards the kitchen.
Éomer: I laugh happily and pull you close, kissing you, nibbling and biting your lips teasingly. “Until we met here, I did not know that Rohan’s future king was such a good cook. You have the health and care of our people well in hand.”
I keep my arm around you as we reach the kitchen, feeling relaxed and playful while helping you search through Karl’s stores. My mind is on how his food can be used for pleasures other than eating, however. I have grown fond of having my food seasoned with Second Marshal.
Théo: There are some tuna steaks in the fridge, the meaty fish that Dave favours, some very small potatoes and enough fresh green things to make up a big salad as he showed me how to up at the cabin. Cooking is another thing I would never have considered doing before I came here, apart from helping out with campfire food while on patrol, but it is something I have come to enjoy.
While I busy myself with the salad, you rummage round the freezer, emerging with a smug look on your face and a tub of strawberry ice-cream in your hand. I return your smile, and take the tub from you as I kiss you, remembering the chocolate ice cream. "By the time we have had the fish, this will have softened enough to eat." You grin at me as we sit down at the table, digging into the salad and fish, and Ire wanders in, sitting under the table to wait for his share. By the way you look at me as I pass you the potatoes, it is as if you could devour me whole, and I can see your other appetites are reawakening. I smile back at you, knowing my need for you will never wane, and knowing that we will not be needing bowls for our ice-cream later.
NC-17
My brow furrows, and I reach out and put my hand on your cheek, examining your face, knowing by the age of them that these must be Karl's injuries, not yours. The bandage on your hand is rigid, designed to hold it still, so I guess that it is broken, but I get a demonstration of how little it bothers you by the way you pull me to you.
I manage to growl out "Missed you …" before your mouth is on mine, tongue plundering. My fingers dig roughly into your hair, kissing you back hard, grinding my hips against yours as you thrust them forward.
Éomer: “Naked, now!” I order roughly, my need for you grown beyond all reason. I had been worried when Karl would not let me shift for so long that our meeting with his lover had damaged my agreements with him. But he seemed happy to let me meet you today, leaving me here as quickly as he could.
I pull your hand down to my groin, letting you feel how much I want you, before I jerk you sharply into the house, tugging my clothes off, helping you out of yours. We stagger down the hall way to the bedroom erratically, tripping over things as we go. I pull us both down onto the bed, rubbing all over you, not caring who does what, just wanting to get my skin on yours.
Théo: I laugh as we hit the bed in a tangle of limbs, squirming in your grasp as we wrestle. First underneath you, nipping at your jaw while you ravage my neck, arching up against you as you growl in my ear, then twisting, pushing you back. Grasping your forearms, remembering at the last second not to grab your wrist I bend down to worry the ring in your nipple as I hold you down gently. Once both nubs are hard and red after all the attention, I lick a broad stripe up your chest, and up the side of your neck.
You buck beneath me, and your mouth finds mine again, taking, demanding. My hands run down your arms, nails scraping lightly over your biceps, and then your fingers are digging into my hair, our tongues battling before you pull me back to get better access to my neck. My hand searches blindly for the nightstand, fingers closing round my prize. "Want to ride you, my stallion …" You wrench your head away to look at me, eyes darkening, keeping your grasp in my hair, and my neck taut. "Make me ready?"
Éomer: My body is already moving for me in our dance. I want you so badly, want you to ride me, to make me feel everything you do to me. I take the tube, my splinted fingers clumsy so I use my teeth to assist me, awkwardly squirting a large dollop of lotion into my uninjured hand.
My hand closes around you while I hold your eyes, biting my lip to prevent myself from crying out at the feel of you so hard for me, my body bucking and squirming in anticipation. My desire is rising heavy and hot as I trace my fingers over your rigid length, feeling silky skin slipping over iron hardness, outlining veins and running along your length, sliding easily now as the lotion coats you. I spread my legs, pushing against you, urging you. “I want to feel you all the way in me.”
Théo: Your hand on my cock, sliding slickly up and down my length is almost as intoxicating as your wild, unchecked need for me. I take you without any preparation, your urging matching my desire to feel you so tight and hot around me. Each push takes me deeper, your muscles gripping me so hard and I hold on to the last fragment of restraint until I am buried in you to the hilt.
My first thrusts are slow, deliberate, long strokes, my arms taut as I look down at you, but it has been so long I cannot hold back. My mouth catches yours as I slam into you, and I swallow your cry as you arch off the bed, wrapping me in your arms before I can move again, tongue thrusting into my mouth as I thrust into your body and I can feel your hardness trapped between our bellies.
Éomer: I am stretched wide around you, your broad shaft pressing on me in ways that leave me panting and gasping, twisting underneath you, trying to get as much contact from you as possible. My motions scrape my sensitized cock over the rough hair of your stomach and I push against you, wanting more contact.
“Missed you, love!” I cry as you release my mouth, but the pounding you are giving me anchors me and erases the loneliness I feel without you. You give me a tight, wild grin and grip my hips, changing your angle and bolts of pleasure shoot through me, the contact between us on my cock and your relentless prodding of the sensitive place inside me enough to send me convulsing around you, calling you, fisting your hair as I explode over us.
Théo: The sight of you coming apart below me, gripping me even tighter, tips me over the edge. I almost howl as your hand tightens in my hair, forcing myself even deeper than before, my release pumping into you over and over again … Letting my arms relax, I bend down to kiss you, nibbling on your lips before burying my face in the crook of your neck, into your hair, nuzzling and breathing you in as you hold me close. "It has been so long." I murmur, knowing that as far as days go, we have been apart for longer, but that is not how it feels.
I can never get enough of having your skin against mine. The feel, the smell, the taste of it, and since this is something we cannot share every night, I intend to make the most of it while we are together. I move in your arms, smiling at you and kissing you as I finally pull out. Using the first thing I grasp to clean us up, I stop before I wipe your seed from your belly, and grin up at you before pushing you back to the bed. Lowering my head to your stomach, I clean up every drop with my tongue, leaving whorls in the hairs on your belly, eventually sucking your still half hard cock into my mouth to finish the job, holding your hips tight.
Éomer: Your attentions are reviving my interest as you suck and clean my cock. I decide to let you rest a bit first before I attack you again. But now it is time to touch, to caress slowly, let my hands know the feel of you again. The fingers in this splint are oddly sensitized and I explore the feeling while I trail my fingertips over you.
“I am not to get this wet, but I would like to bathe with you, when we have rested.” I comb my uninjured hand through your hair, enjoying the texture, wanting to wash it for you, wondering if I can manage it and still follow Karl’s instructions.
Théo: I kiss my way up your chest to lie in your arms, purring at the attention you give my hair, rubbing my head against your hand and kissing your wrist. My fingers explore your back, trailing up your spine and pressing gently into the muscles.
"I would like that." I brush the hair back from your face, smiling. "I miss your touch when we are apart."
I reach for your injured hand, running my fingers over the ends of yours, and examining the casing. "Does it hurt?" Even though I know these are Karl's injuries, you wear them and it is hard for me not to see them as yours. "What happened to him?"
Éomer: I inspect the splint carefully. It immobilizes my fingers up to the first knuckle and then comes up my arm almost to my elbow. I rap the knuckles of my other hand on it, it seems to be some type of mortar.
“There is a dull ache where my palm is, enough that I know about it, but not anything that bothers me.” I’ve been hurt worse and I grin at you and arch into the hand caressing my back, kissing your neck.
“Karl said that he was in a bar fight.” I remember from our own adventures how easily that can happen, even when one has no wish to fight. “It seems the people in this world have so much peace and ease that they must turn things that should be relaxing times for all into an opportunity to brawl.”
Théo: There is a pleasant little tingle radiating out from where your lips locked onto my neck, and my fingers tangle in long strands of your hair. I am intrigued by the casing, thinking on the practicalities of using a similar system back home, and wondering if it would help breaks heal faster. Then I realise you are looking at me, and smile sheepishly, burying my face in your neck before kissing my way round to your lips and giving you my full attention.
"I do not think they know how fortunate they are, to live in a place and time like this." I kiss you harder, pressing against the small of your back to pull you closer. "A place of coffee and chocolate." I smile at you and nibble on your lip in between words. "Of showers and bikes and Jack Daniels and electricity and soft beds …" And just to prove a point, I throw myself back onto the bed, sinking into the quilt, and pull you down to me.
Éomer: I smile at your recitation of things that you enjoy here, wondering if this list reflects the order which you treasure the delights of this world. I cover you with my body happily, thinking that my list is somewhat different.
“Soft beds are my favorite part of this world, that and delicious Rohirrim to fill them.” I swipe my tongue up the center of your chest. “Although, the potions and unguents they have for the care of the hair are most extraordinary.” I look at your hair reflectively, picking up a strand and rolling it between my fingers. It seems you could benefit from a visit to the french, but sadly I do not remember where his place of business is located. Much has happened since that time and I believe we would require the assistance of the Elf-man for such an adventure. I should suggest it to you some time, for I know I would be most amused to hear your opinion of the french.
Théo: "Ah, then we are in agreement." I smile happily and push the hair back from your face as you lap at my chest. "Because this, you and I here in this soft bed, is my favourite thing from all this world has to offer."
I smile again when you mention the things you like to put in your hair and then you examine mine with a critical eye. You seem fixated on it today, but that is no bad thing.
"Are you implying that my hair is not up to your exacting standards?" I tease, smirking. "Perhaps I should try these potions of yours, maybe then it will meet with your approval …" My words die off as your fingers, which have been threading through my hair, reach my scalp, making it tingle.
Éomer: I flex my fingers on your scalp, sliding the skin gently over bone, scratching lightly with my short nails, and moving my hand over your entire head, slowly, slowly. You push against my hand like Paris’ cat, and I smile, enjoying the feel of your skin and your hair under my fingertips. I move my hand down to massage the tendons running from your neck, wishing I had the use of both hands so I could do this for you properly.
You are nuzzling against me, sending heat to my groin, but I want to feel our skin, slick and wet, sliding against each other, so I tug you out of the bed, smacking you sharply on the buttocks. “Come, I want to wash you.”
Théo: After almost melting under your touch, I gasp at the slap on my backside, staring at you indignantly, but you ignore me and pull me into the bathroom. You start the water running into the tub, and turn back to me. Much as I want you to continue with what you were doing, and for you to bathe me, there is the matter of not getting the casing on your hand wet.
It is becoming harder to concentrate on practicalities, though, as you pull me to you, stroking the back of my neck which is still highly sensitive after your earlier attentions.
Éomer: I bury my nose in the back of your neck and inhale. "Mmm." I nibble on the secret place under your hair, holding you still while you shift against me. My body is starting to get extremely interested in your actions and I groan as you move against me.
The tub is full enough, so I get into it carefully, keeping my left arm up, resting it on the rim of the tub. I swish the water over my lap with my other hand, inviting you to sit down on my legs. "You will have to assist me," I say, my voice husky, enjoying the sight of you.
Théo: The tone in your voice sends shivers down my spine and I join you in the tub, straddling your legs and sitting back on your thighs. I trail my wet hands up your chest, fingertips ghosting over your nipples until they harden into tight little nubs.
I lather up the scrunched up net that I remember feels so good on the skin, and move it in circles on your stomach. My hair flops down over my face, and I look at you through the strands, my eyes playful and my voice rough. "How can I be of assistance?"
Éomer: That was not exactly what I was thinking of, but your touch on my skin and your voice give me ideas. I am hard enough already and I want to feel you squirming on me. I wrap my hand around your neck and pull you to me for a kiss.
“Wet your hair and then turn around.” You do as I say and I pull you back against my chest, pushing wet strands away with my mouth to lip at your ear. “Now . . . open yourself and then lower yourself onto me. I am going to wash your hair.” I cannot use my hands to guide your movements, so you will have to decide how you wish to push yourself down on my hardness. I flip open the shampoo bottle with my teeth and get some of the herbal smelling substance on my hand.
Théo: I squirm against your chest at the thought before doing as you say. Sitting up, I run my still soapy hands down my cleft. Knowing you are watching makes me feel wanton, and I ease my cheeks apart, running my fingers over my entrance. I slide two fingers into my body, groaning as they sink deeper, moving them slowly in and out a few times, but I am hungry to feel you inside me.
I reach for your cock, teasing myself with it before slowly sinking down onto it. Just the head at first, letting myself adjust to your thickness opening me up from this angle, and then with a shudder I lower myself the rest of the way until I can feel your wiry hairs on my spread cheeks. My back arches as your hardness fills me and my head drops back towards you.
Éomer: I still for a moment, relishing the feel of your heat clasping me, your body hard against mine. A few deep breaths and I have quelled the urge to slam into you, the urge to brand you with my possession of your body. I purr softly, letting you know how you affect me.
Then I push your head forward, running my hand through your hair, spreading the thick liquid through your pale yellow strands, darker now with the water. My fingers move strongly against your head, rubbing and soothing while I work the lather through your hair, moving down onto your neck and not forgetting to caress your ears. I wonder how long you will be able to remain unmoving against the flesh that is filling you as I carefully keep my left hand away from any moisture.
Théo: My breathing is becoming increasingly ragged and the feel of you buried deep inside me at the same time that your fingers work over my scalp hold me still for a while, almost in a daze. The shivers and tremors running through my body from where your fingertips touch me cause my muscles to contract around your thick shaft and as they increase, more and more of my skin prickling as a result of what you do to me, I rock my hips backwards and forwards, the movement small to begin with. This delicious friction adds to the sensory overload until I am twitching at your every touch, trying to rub myself against your ever moving hands as my hips move faster, my own erection aching to be touched, but I resist, wanting to make this last.
Éomer: I almost ask you to stop several times, but the way you are moving against me feels too good, so I push away the orgasm, stopping my hips which have begun to dance in time to your movements. Each time when I am calmer, I start again, small movements, just clenching my muscles enough to push into you.
I tilt your head back and cup my hand, rinsing your hair, working carefully until all the soap is gone. I put more of the shampoo in my hand and move to the hairs covering the base of your cock, softened now by the water. “Not quite finished,” I whisper. I rub the lotion in, moving your hardness out of the way, caressing your balls, occasionally giving a firm stroke to your cock.
Théo: Once the last of the rinsing water has run down over my shoulders, my movements become more pronounced. I can feel the hairs on your chest against my back and I writhe in your grasp as your hand works through my lower thatch of hair, moaning as your fingers slip and slide between my open legs, gasping every time they touch my erection.
My hips are moving faster now, the small movements almost enough to get me there, and I let my head drop back onto your shoulder, my hand reaching back and digging into your hair as my lips seek yours out. "Make me come, Mer, need to come …"
Éomer: “Want to feel you come,” I growl against your ear, my hand settling into place, slick from the shampoo, moving over you firmly, base to tip, my fingers curling over your leaking slit with every stroke. Your head falls back on my shoulder as your hips move faster and your body bows with your orgasm, you shaft throbbing and spurting in my hand.
The feel of you pulsing around me, so tight, so hot as you move, does it for me and my muscles contract driving myself into you the best I can without using my hands, a snarl falling from my lips as I fill, waves of pleasure radiating out from where we are joined.
Théo: With a shuddering sigh, I let myself relax back against you as the last of the tremors wrack your body. My scalp still tingles from the memory of your fingers, and it is sending shivers of pleasure from where my head lies on your shoulder. You are still buried deep inside me, and there is a pleasant ache from being impaled on you like this, feeling you as if you were a part of me.
I do not particularly want to move, but know it is necessary, so shift with a groan so I can pull myself off you. It does mean I can slip between your legs and lie back against you for a while, turning to look at you and drawing you down to kiss me.
"I think we need fresh water so I can help you bathe." I glance at the casing on your hand, considering the options and how best not to get it wet. "Bath or shower?"
Éomer: I try to imagine standing in the shower and hanging my arm out of it. “Bath, I think.” I stand up to let the water out, this ‘cast’ is inconvenient. You fiddle with the taps until fresh water is streaming into the tub at the perfect temperature. I settle back down with a contented sigh.
“I think I still prefer baths to showers,” I say drowsily. I think I could take a nap here, but I resist the urge to sleep. Now that our urgency is muted, I want to talk to with you, to take a meal with you, to just spend time with you doing what may suit our fancy.
Théo: "I enjoy both." There is a lot to be said for taking a bath together, the warm water surrounding us, but standing under hard jets of water while being taken also has an appeal. I lather up the net again, and wash your long limbs, your torso as you relax, paying particular attention to the spots that make you growl softly and careful not to get the cast wet. "But with you, I think baths win." Then I slip in behind you and wash your golden hair, using the lotions you direct me to use. I take my time, working my fingers through the long strands and rinsing it thoroughly. By the time we are drying each other off, your stomach is growling, and I grin at you, moving closer to kiss you.
"Ah, another appetite that needs to be satisfied. Come, let us see what treats we can find in Karl's fridge, or perhaps we can arrange for pizza to be delivered." Either way, we have the rest of the day together which I am looking forward to. So I take your hand, and pull you off towards the kitchen.
Éomer: I laugh happily and pull you close, kissing you, nibbling and biting your lips teasingly. “Until we met here, I did not know that Rohan’s future king was such a good cook. You have the health and care of our people well in hand.”
I keep my arm around you as we reach the kitchen, feeling relaxed and playful while helping you search through Karl’s stores. My mind is on how his food can be used for pleasures other than eating, however. I have grown fond of having my food seasoned with Second Marshal.
Théo: There are some tuna steaks in the fridge, the meaty fish that Dave favours, some very small potatoes and enough fresh green things to make up a big salad as he showed me how to up at the cabin. Cooking is another thing I would never have considered doing before I came here, apart from helping out with campfire food while on patrol, but it is something I have come to enjoy.
While I busy myself with the salad, you rummage round the freezer, emerging with a smug look on your face and a tub of strawberry ice-cream in your hand. I return your smile, and take the tub from you as I kiss you, remembering the chocolate ice cream. "By the time we have had the fish, this will have softened enough to eat." You grin at me as we sit down at the table, digging into the salad and fish, and Ire wanders in, sitting under the table to wait for his share. By the way you look at me as I pass you the potatoes, it is as if you could devour me whole, and I can see your other appetites are reawakening. I smile back at you, knowing my need for you will never wane, and knowing that we will not be needing bowls for our ice-cream later.
NC-17