Sinking lower into the burning hot bathwater, Lothíriel let out a hiss of discomfort. "That will be all, Aethelswith. Thank you," she dismissed her servant. With a soft clink of the heavy, wooden door, the maid left her and exited out to the adjacent bedroom chamber, then the hallway.
Alone with her own thoughts, Lothíriel relaxed in the tub. Her husband, King Éomer was yet to arrive home from his campaign in the South. His brother at arms, King Aragorn of Gondor, had called for his aid when they marched upon a sizable force of surviving orcs that had been discovered in the southeast. That had been three months ago, and only two months after their marriage. She loved her husband as deeply one could for the brief time she had known him, and missed him. In her new home, she had kept herself busy with the duties of queen and had become close with many of her subjects. But an emptiness lurked in the Golden Hall of Meduseld without the presence of its fiery, young king. With a sigh, Lothíriel shifted in the bath, letting her black hair fall into the water as she dunked herself completely. The scalding water burned her face and she reemerged quickly.
With a sudden bang, the door slammed open and then shut in the bedroom. The bolt knocked loudly closed as well. Gripping the sides of the bath, Lothíriel leaned over the side intently. The distinct sounds of metal-perhaps a helmet?-hitting the floor confirmed her initial suspicion.
Then, Éomer burst into the bathroom chamber, fully clad in mail. His chin was covered in stubble, and his tawny hair was tangled, with a healing cut on his forehead and chin. Cold, glove-plated hands pulled her up out of the water and crushed her to him, the sensation sending gooseprickles over her body.
His lips, warm, pulled at hers as his stubble scratched his face. Desperation evident in his expression as he pulled her impossibly closer, made heat surge within her. "I've missed you. I've missed you impossibly much, Lothíriel," he growled, and then returned to his attack of her mouth. His taste was familiar, like warm wind on a summer's day with some sort of salty undertone.
Forcefully, his gloved hands rubbed up and down her body, abusing her tender breasts, her nipples going taut against his rough touch. Eagerly, he scooped his hands down around her bottom, lifting his mouth from hers and plunging it down upon one of her breasts, sucking and licking upon the nipple until she could barely breathe. He then pulled at it with his teeth as she dragged her hands through his hair, pushing his head against her further. A wild ache filled her body, her knees feeling weak. No matter how much she tried, she could not seem to take a steady breath. Thankfully, Éomer lifted her in his arms then, her naked legs straddling his armored hips, and pushed her urgently against the wooden wall. She could not help the buck her hips made as he finished his work upon her breast with a sharp bite to the nipple.
As he worked his mouth back up to her mouth, Lothíriel dug her fingers into his hair once more, and kissed his neck. Sucking and biting, she pulled at the chords of it as he gasped, his fingers gripping her ass even more so and jerking her impossibly closer.
The couple slid down to the floor and Lothíriel straddled Éomer at first, triumphantly looking down upon him. With a scraping overturn, he flipped them so that he was on top. Returning his mouth to hers, she crossed her legs around his hips. Sliding downwards, Éomer wrenched her legs apart. Hand still gloved, he traced up the planes of her lithe thighs, over her jutting hipbones, and to the hot, wet center between her legs. Slowly as his lips molded to hers, he thrust a finger within her. The cold metal of his glove made her give a low, throaty moan, as he pushed into her again, and again, and again. With a steady rhythm now, Éomer added another finger. Squirming up to meet his thrusts now, Lothíriel's legs shook with pleasure as she could feel herself escalating towards something.
Suddenly, Éomer withdrew his fingers and wiped their liquid upon her thigh. Writhing up towards him in hopes of attaining some sort of friction, Lothíriel bucked. Too incoherent to plea, she crossed her legs around Éomer's hips once more and grinded herself against him. And once more, Éomer parted her legs.
Dragging his tongue down her neck, breasts, ribs, and abdomen, Éomer continued all the way down to the slit between her thighs. Sinking his tongue deep within her, he lapped up the juices dribbling from within her. Her legs tightened around his head as she scratched at the floor hopelessly trying to gain leverage. Unable to contain herself, Lothíriel let out a high-pitched moan, her heart pounding as ecstasy overpowered her. Éomer continued to pleasure her with his mouth, his lips dragging at her and his teeth grinding against her while his tongue plunged inside her walls. Again and again, he pushed her desire to places she had never known before.
"Éomer," she yelped as he bit her and licked her, simultaneously taunting and soothing her.
All too soon, he licked her one final time and released her in favor of furiously shedding his own clothes. She leaped up, helping him to unbuckle his armor. The chainmail came next along with his boots, and then his multiple layers of breaches and tunics. Finally, he stood before her naked.
She had forgotten how muscled his body was, with deep contours in the abdomen, shoulders, arms, and legs. Perhaps in a less fervent setting she would have traced them. But Éomer had different plans, as he picked her up in a straddle once more. His deep brown eyes darkened perceptibly as his hardness rubbed against her wet, warm center.
Splashing the still-scalding water, he settled them into the bathtub with Lothíriel beneath him and then thrust his cock frantically within her. His pace stayed slow at first as she adjusted to his size, but as she moaned and matched his thrusts, he quickened. Faster now, he grunted as he impaled himself furiously within her. Pulsating with pleasure, Lothíriel whimpered and clawed her nails across his back. He hit her clitoris continuously, slamming hard and deep and then dragging himself nearly out again.
Flipping now on top, Lothíriel straddled him and lowered herself onto him so he could gain deeper access to her opening. Relentlessly, she rode him up and down as he dragged his fingers across her breasts. She was nearing her peak, as she shouted out his name once more.
With a desperate kiss, Éomer lifted her off of him and pushed her front-forward against the end of the bathtub. With a hand on her lower bag, he lanced into her like a dog rides its bitch. With a feral snarl of ecstasy, Éomer pumped in and out of her at an erratic pace. Yanking her hair back with one hand on her hip, he pierced deeper than ever before as he approached his peak. Beneath him, Lothíriel moaned in exultation, her breasts pressed painfully against the side of the tub and the friction of their thrusts sending her to new expanses of pleasure. Balls clapping against her ass, Éomer spanked down upon Lothíriel's ass to make the pressure feel tighter upon his cock.
In a final burst of ecstasy comingled with pain, Lothíriel's orgasm hit her hard as her walls quaked. Her body spasmed as Éomer shot his cum within her, seeing white as her slit tightened around his cock, milking his seed.
Disentangling themselves as their bodies relaxed, the monarchs shifted back into the bathtub and held each other. "I've missed you too, Éomer," Lothíriel whispered hoarsely.