She's watching him with those eyes. She's loving him with that body, I just know it. And he's holding her in his arms late, late at night. I wish…
No, Faramir has been a good friend to me. He's so happy, I can see it in his eyes. Her hand is on his leg under the table. Arwen would never do that. Suddenly he turns to her with his eyes wide, and I know where her hand has gone. I could have had this, I think to myself. This is what I turned down; rejected. They laugh. I look at Arwen. Her lips are straight, yet she doesn't look either happy or sad. She looks like a porcelain statue. At one time, I thought this was beauty. She was the model by which I judged all other women. As I look back at Eowyn, I see the color in her face; see the lines form around her mouth when she smiles. Faramir is leaning into her, whispering something in her ear that makes her cheeks turn even redder than before. I turn away- I feel dirty watching them. Watching her. When did we lose that passion? I turn back to Arwen and, unsurely, place my palm gently on her knee. For a moment her composure is shaken, and she gives me a look that says "What are you doing?" Quickly, I withdraw my hand, feeling dejected. Her stoic composure returns, and all at once I am overwhelmed with anger. At her, at myself, at Eowyn. Why is she teasing me like this? She must know the lack of passion in my own life, and seeks to rub in my face what I gave up. But then I look over at her and realize that she's not teasing me. She doesn't even know I'm here. Can't she feel me staring at her? I can't stand it anymore, and I excuse myself, drawing a strange look from Arwen, and a concerned one from Faramir. But it is Eowyn's eyes I long to meet. She looks at me briefly enough to bow her head in respect, then turns back to her food and Faramir. With that final blow I leave, admittedly in a huff.
A few months have passed. I can't help but think about her. I tell myself not to, but reminders of her are everywhere. I see Faramir constantly, at meetings, dinners, councils. Today, he reached for a paper in front of me and I saw marks on his wrist. I quickly grabbed his arm and looked at them, then him with question in my eyes. It looked as if someone had bound him. He quickly pulled his arm away, a blush rising in his cheeks, and I didn't need to hear his attempt at an explanation.
"Eowyn…likes to…" he looked at me to finish the statement. I could not meet his sheepish glance, though, for images of Eowyn- his wife- naked and leaning over his body, began to flood my mind. She ties him up? "She likes to try new things," he continued explaining himself, "she says she doesn't want us to get bored with each other. Not that I would ever get bored of her…" he trailed off and he must have seen the look on my face, for he immediately apologized. He appeared concerned that he had perhaps disturbed me. If only he knew what part of me he disturbed, he would not be so apologetic.
"No apology. I am not offended. Only a bit surprised- I would not think that you would like bonds."
He looked down, "I didn't, but she told me that the war is over- my war is over. And that I have nothing to fear anymore. It is true. I am so grateful to her. But I am rambling now, as I do when I speak of her."
I felt another pang of guilt. I would not wish him unhappiness, but his was the kind of life I imagined I would be having. All my toil and hardship. All our separation. I thought when we were finally together, finally after sixty years of waiting, that our passion would explode and carry us through our life together. Instead, I was fantasizing about another's wife. A woman who had declared her love for me! But that was so long ago now- I see no trace of that time when I look at her.
Faramir's voice reached me. "You seem troubled, Aragorn."
I wanted to punch him just then- his concern made me feel horribly guilty. I knew in the back of my mind that if I asked him for a night with Eowyn, he would grant it. He would not be happy, and it would no doubt ruin our casual friendship, but he would do it. I knew that they both felt they owed me. But I would never ask.
"Please," he continued, "talk to me. You do not need to hold everything inside. Didn't you tell me that?"
"I don't need help!" I snapped at him. I saw him revert to the way he must have been when he was faced with his father's wrath. He did not quite understand what he did wrong, but he knew it was something. "I am sorry. I am stressed. I think I will end this early, if you don't mind." I didn't care if he minded.
"That's a good idea, sir. Go to your wife, she will help you." I turned at that. He truly had no idea how lucky he was.
I could not keep some of the bitterness out of my voice when I replied, "Yes, my wife."
I count that day as my turning point. I could not get the marks on his wrist out of my mind. When I had retreated back to my chambers, I looked at my wrists, wrapped my fingers around one of them and squeezed. It did not leave a mark.
After that I began to wonder- What did she use? A belt? A scarf? Maybe, in her passion, she had ripped his shirt off and used the shreds of it to tie him to their bedpost. The more I imagined it, the more I became obsessed. Every time I saw her, my mind transformed her. I imagined her body in various sexual poses. I imagined how she would look laying on her back as Faramir towered over her, or perhaps how her face would contort as Faramir knelt between her legs. Or maybe she knelt between his legs… I began to stare at her during the few meals we all ate together. Every way her fingers moved, how she turned her body, how her lips curled around her food. I looked at their skin, trying to discover any marks hidden away. But they were careful now. The marks on Faramir's wrists soon disappeared, and I was left with the memory.
One night, the cook brought out rolls, only they were shaped as mini loaves- long and thick. I should have been paying attention as the cook described the meal, but of course I wasn't. I had allowed my gaze to fall on them, and as Eowyn grabbed a roll, I strained my ears to hear what she whispered in her husband's ear.
"I have seen bread bigger than this." The way she held the bread, the smirk of laughter, but mostly the sly sexy tone in her voice—I will remember it forever.
"Eowyn!" I heard Faramir softly reprimand.
"No one heard," she whispered, still smiling.
But I had heard. I saw the look in his eyes; he would have her tonight. Maybe he would tie her up this time. I could feel myself breathing harder. I felt an urge like I have never felt before to lunge on her from across the table. I wanted to touch her. Instead of Faramir, I saw myself now, hovering over her. I wanted her tied up on the bed with her arms and legs spread before me. I wanted to run my hands all over her body, mark her in my own way- let her have marks on her wrists. I wanted to bury myself inside her and hear how she screamed my name. I wanted to feel her body move as I pounded into her. I bet I could give her something Faramir couldn't. I would take her so hard she would not be able to move. It would be quick, but it would be so good. Then maybe I would have her again- just leave her tied to the bed. I tried to snap myself out of this wicked daydream, but I couldn't, and I felt myself get hard. I knew I couldn't stay at the table. Quickly I got up and left the room without looking back. I practically ran to my chambers and bolted the door.
I wasted no time taking off my pants and laying on the bed. I closed my eyes and for the first time imagined myself with her. I could not bring myself to do it before- guilt, shame, maybe denial. But I couldn't hold back anymore. I grabbed myself- I had not been this hard in a long time. I saw her behind my eyes. Her flushed face, her squirming body sleek with sweat. She was moaning my name. I rolled over and grabbed the massage oils from Arwen's side of the bed. I rubbed them in my hands to warm them. Then I closed my eyes again and imagined myself positioned above her. I let my hand slowly move over me as if I were entering her for the first time. It was so good I had to moan. As the images came clearer I knew it wouldn't last long. Soon I was spent, with her whispered name on my breath. This was real now. The evidence had sprayed onto my chest and coated my hands.
After that, I cannot tell you how many times I spent myself using images of Eowyn. At first I felt guilty afterwards, but as it became more common, those feelings left. It scared me. I would even initiate love-making with Arwen just to have a body. Her face was no longer Arwen's. Then I had to be careful not to say her name.
As I feverishly made love to Arwen for the fourth night in a row, I realized that this had to stop. I looked down and saw Arwen's tear-stained face looking up at me. I froze, thinking I had said something that gave me away. But she just reached up her hand, and gently touched my face. "Amin mela lle," she whispered to me. My reality came crashing back, and I didn't like it. I buried my head in her shoulder- to avoid the phrase, avoid the intimacy. I thrust quickly into her, eager to finish. She moaned my name and in my head I transformed it into Eowyn's throaty voice. At that I came, thrusting deep inside her and groaning loudly to keep me from moaning that forbidden name. She held me tightly afterwards. I felt my face burning with the shame. Soon I got up and left, to the washroom. This had to stop.
After that night, I cut myself off completely. No fantasies, no staring. I threw myself into work, and into loving Arwen. We dined privately in our chambers on the nights I knew Faramir and Eowyn would be dining in the main room. After a few weeks of this, things had gone back to normal for me. I could talk to Faramir without imagining sex. We even became better friends because I was actually comfortable around him. I was just beginning to pass that stage of my life off as a freak obsession, when I had a sudden, deadly relapse.
It was their fault. Mostly. It was right after lunch, and I had a pile of papers on my desk that needed Faramir's seal. I grabbed them and walked to his office. In our newfound closeness, Faramir and I walked freely between each others offices. I thought nothing of it to just walk in, as I did that day. But instead of Faramir busily working on papers, he was busily working on his wife. She was up against the wall- held there, suspended by Faramir's cock-- which was no doubt buried inside her—and her ankles were wrapped around his waist. The folds of her dress covered their contact, but his mouth was latched onto one of her white breasts. The scene will haunt me for the rest of my life. It all happened so fast- I moaned; the papers dropped from my hand, scattering on the floor; she gasped; Faramir let her down and turned, then turned away to hide his erection and cover his wife's breast. He did not meet my eyes, but for a fleeting moment, Eowyn did. Her eyes were wide, her cheeks were burning red, her hair was plastered to the side of her face with sweat—she was so beautifully sexy. I was hard immediately, but didn't care. 'So that's how she looks…' I stayed a moment longer than I should have, watching them scramble to look appropriate, feeling glued to my spot; but when her eyes met mine again, then roved over my body, I thought I saw a fragment of desire. I couldn't take it—I knew I was hallucinating. I turned and walked away, as dignified as I could manage, knowing that she must have seen my erection. As soon as I turned a corner, I pressed myself against the wall, willing myself to take deep breaths and think of something not erotic. Even Faramir's cock hadn't decreased my arousal. He was not thicker than me, but longer. Maybe she will like something bigger, the way she looked at me... No. That look was a figment of my imagination, my lust. A few moments later I heard footsteps rushing down the corridor. I stilled my breathing, not wanting anyone to discover me in this state. Then I saw Eowyn walk hurriedly past me, not noticing anything. I saw a few stray strands of hair that had fallen out of its intricate up-do. They fell along her back, which only reminded me of where her back was and why it was there.
I don't know what made me do it, but I followed her. Out of the hallway and around all the twists and turns, until we were finally outside the large wooden doors that led to the wing where she and Faramir had their quarters. Still, I followed her, slipping through seconds behind her. She disappeared around a turn, and I quietly followed. But she is smarter than I thought, and I turned the corner only to be inches away from her face.
"Why are you following me?" she asked, her voice hard.
I stuttered for a moment- if I was still in the wild, I would be dead now. I wished I was. "I…wanted to apologize for earlier," but she knew that wasn't right—I couldn't drag my eyes away from her chest, which was heaving from the quick walk.
"For watching us? Did you enjoy it?" she asked, still glaring at me.
I couldn't meet her gaze anymore. I felt ready to spill the truth. I had fantasized about this moment for months. I would tell her how I felt and she would throw herself upon me in passion and we would make love for hours and hours. It was so stupid, but I had to try—I would never have a chance like this again. She had caught me, and this had gotten out of control.
I took a deep breath and looked her square in the eyes. "I want you, Eowyn."
Her gaze faltered, as if she did not expect this. How could she not? Couldn't she feel the heat emanating from my body? I was so tense standing there in front of her. I wanted to ram her up against the wall and finish what Faramir began. Seeing that she had no reply (which was encouraging) I continued.
"I have wanted you for months. I am sorry for…everything," I made a vague gesture with my hands, as if it could indicate all the pain I know I put her through those years ago. She stepped back from me, but she hadn't slapped me yet, so I felt encouraged. I closed the distance again. I decided that she did not know what I wanted.
"Look at me, Eowyn," I said. Her eyes narrowed as they looked at my face. Not where I wanted her to look. Out of my mind now, I grabbed her around her small waist and pulled her into me, hard.
"Feel me, Eowyn. I have been like this for months. Please."
Her eyes widened. I didn't expect it to come out like a plea, but at this point I didn't care. I knew she could feel me. It seemed like forever before she finally spoke.
"What are you asking me, Aragorn?" Her voice was raw and I knew I had her.
"Help me," I breathed, barely getting the words out before her lips were on mine.
I snapped. I grabbed her ass and pulled her into me so hard she made a small squeal in protest. But that only made it worse. I sucked on her lips, her tongue, grinding my hips into her. She pulled away from me, and I could see a bit of fear in her eyes. Of course she never had marks on her wrists- Faramir was too gentle with her. She threw herself back into the kiss, and I knew what to do. She would remember this for the rest of her life.
I picked her up, wrapping her legs around my waist as I had seen them earlier. I needed something. After walking only a few feet, I found a long table and laid her out on it.
"The bedroom is—"
"—too far away," I finished before I latched my mouth on to her soft neck. She moaned loudly, grabbing at my clothes. I did not need to be asked twice, and soon I was stripped down to nothing, standing in front of her. She looked at me for a long moment, and normally I would have been self-conscious, but I didn't care. I was going to fuck her whether or not she liked my body. I hiked up her skirt and found that she had no undergarments on. I smiled at her and she pulled me down for another kiss.
"Tell me," I breathed when our lips parted, "have you ever been fucked on a table?"
She spread her legs for me—for me!—and before she got the chance to reply, l lined myself up and was inside her. She moaned so wonderfully, as her eyes widened. I could feel the tightness- I was thicker than Faramir and I knew she could feel it. I couldn't move- I was already on the edge, feeling my balls clenching with anticipation. I leaned over her and closed my eyes, drawing deep breaths of her scent.
She gave me my few moments, before I heard her say, "I thought you were going to fuck me on a table?"
I looked at her, knowing my jaw was slack. 'Fuck her!' my brain was screaming at me. I dug my fingers into her hips and dragged her to the very edge of the table. Then, holding on for dear life, I began to move inside her. So warm, so tight. It was everything I thought it would be, and more. Soon I was moving so fast and hard that I had to keep dragging her back to the edge of the table. I was trying, I really was, to slow down and enjoy this. But I could not control myself. Her hands were tangled in her hair, pulling pins out left and right. She was moaning- no, groaning- every time I slammed into her- now high-pitched gasps, now short screams. It was beautiful. I reached up and drew one of her breasts out of the confines of her dress and massaged it. I could feel myself getting physically exhausted, but her movements, the bouncing of her breasts, the slapping of our skin, was egging me on. I drove harder and harder, the sweat dripping from me. I thought my heart would stop when I saw her snake a hand down to touch herself. It was too much for me and I felt my orgasm imminent. This was the part I was dreading.
"I won't last," I gasped, "I have to…stop."
But she sat up, grabbing my ass and pushing me into her before I could pull out. I practically screamed as I came inside her, ramming into her convulsively, sucking hard on her shoulder, smashing her chest against mine. I fought for breath for so long it worried her, for she took my face between her hands and asked me if I was alright. My mouth was wide open, and I was drawing as much breath as possible- I couldn't answer her. She smiled and lay back down.
Finally, I had enough sense to realize that I was still inside her, and I pulled out. I also fully realized that I had released inside her. She saw the look of horror I gave her, but she just laughed.
"It matters not," she told me gently, "I am already with child."
I smiled. I felt like I should say something but at that moment it seemed wrong. It took me only a few more minutes to comprehend that I had really just fucked her on a table, and again she laughed.
"Now you will say that you are sorry, and you don't know what came over you, am I right?" She was so beautiful.
"Forgive me," I said, not sure whose forgiveness I was asking, "but I am not sorry. I would have you again and again, Eowyn. You are beautiful."
She looked away and I feared that I had said too much. "I do not love you," she said to me. I was surprised by the sinking feeling in my stomach at those words.
"I know," I replied. Did I love her? To avoid the question, I began to get dressed.
"I loved you," she continued. Ah, this was the part where she would rub it in my face.
"I know," I replied again.
"No you don't. Let me finish," she reprimanded, sitting up now and covering herself with her dress. "I loved you, but not the way that I love Faramir. You were right- I did not truly love you. I didn't know enough then to distinguish between love and…lust. I know that difference now." She looked at me meaningfully. Was she telling me that she lusted after me still?
It was more than I could take. I hastily put my clothes on, not sure what to do or to say in this awkward situation. Above all, I did not want Faramir to discover us like this. I turned to her to say some form of goodbye or thank you, but she spoke first.
"Have I cured you?"
"I don't know," I replied honestly. She just smiled at me and turned towards her room.
"Eowyn," I called after her. She turned back. "Will you tell Faramir?"
She seemed to think a moment before she replied, "We must wait and see. He will know one day, but not until it is over."
She had already gone through the door before I had processed her statement. This wasn't over?