AN:
Inspired and co-written by the licentious muse known as TommyGinger, the true jewel amongst the Yammering Muses!
Edoras, summer of 3018 TA
It was a dark and stormy night in Edoras. The wind howled, the lightening flashed and rain pounded the roof of the Golden Hall.
"Oh, how I wish that someone pounded me so", came the sigh through the perfect lush pink lips, with the lower lip swollen from being sucked with unquenched desire for loving and being loved. Eowyn, Princess of Rohan, was on the prowl.
Any man in his right mind would have wanted her...but none were brave enough to cross her brother Eomer. And so...year after year...Princess Eowyn remained untouched and unloved. And it was driving her to distraction. Just when she had made up her mind to run away, the Steward of Gondor sent his oldest son to Rohan. Now, in the flickering light of the Hall, Eowyn watched the man as a panther watches its prey. A fierce warrior who had seen his share of danger at the hands of orcs and evil men, he had no way of knowing that his greatest foe stood just at his shoulder, ready to refill his drink.
Using all the intelligence bred into her by her distaff Numenorean lineage which had infused her blood with the Wisdom of the Eldar, she did not fill his massive horn from the front. Instead she cunningly slinked up from his blind flank. This gave her the pretext to drape her breast over the Gondorian knight's shoulder.
Feeling the warm, supple flesh - which his thirty years of warrior experience immediately identified as BOOB - Boromir felt blood escape his brain with a joyous war cry and speed towards his outlying members.
The grizzled frontline rapist slowly turned his head and looked up. He expected to see hooded, lust filled orbs of a wanton serving wench, with her breast swelling like the tidal surge at Harlond. Instead his grey orbs met the lust filled glaze from under the half hooded grey eyes of a lascivious princess, whose breasts undulated like the rump of a mare galloping across the plains of Rohan.
Boromir suddenly felt his breath leave his lungs as he stared into the face of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Hair like spun gold, skin like white marble, lips like rose petals that promised sweet kisses...and the boobs...how could he forget those lush boobs? Just as his eyes locked with hers and the rest of the world seemed to slip away, a large hand reached out and grabbed the maiden.
His first instinct was to draw his fell blade and defend her, but before he could do anything more than register surprise...he heard the words that froze his heart.
"Sister, the night grows late and I would not have you exhaust yourself waiting upon a table of drunken men. Come, take your leave of the king and I will walk you to your chambers."
The loss of contact with the ethereal phenomena made a feral warg like howl rise in his throat. Feeling her move away made him feel pain as acute as that he felt when - left for dead - he had attracted the attentions and ministrations of a Mordor Uruk's cock. He immediately stifled that howl, same as then. But, unlike that time when he lay beneath the Uruk whose stench was stronger than "Troll groin" Beregond's from 3rd Coy, he could not find his release in biting the "brother's" nose off. Drawing upon his courtier's training he suavely waved his horn at the delightful female and ejaculated:
"Mead?"
...Eomer narrowed his eyes as he looked at the Gondorian, smiling and holding his horn out towards his sister. Something about the man triggered a primal rage deep within him and he had to hold back a sudden desire to growl and rip his throat out. No one dared look upon his sweet sister with such open longing...at least none that did not want to meet a swift and painful death. Apparently this steward's son did not know of whom he was dealing with.
" I am sorry, Lord Boromir, but I must deprive you of my sister's company. She is still too young to keep such late hours and I would have her in the safe confines of her bower. If you will excuse us, I will take her there now. When I return perhaps you can finish entertaining me with your tales of battle. Come sister."
And with that Eomer wrapped a protective arm around Eowyn's waist and half-dragged her from the table. All the while, the princess never took her eyes from Boromir's...promising much with her gaze and asking for more. He knew with a certainty he had never felt before that he would have this maiden for his own, in every way that a man could have a woman, she would be his.