Chapter 11: Intimacy

Éomer met his wife's lips again, intrigued and aroused by the chill of her skin. His hand wove through her hair, reveling in its touch. It wasn't silky smooth, but thick and velvety. Her skin smelled of herbs and he'd grown rather fond of it as her nose brushed his. He pulled her up as he sat up, holding her to him as he continued the kiss. Everything about this woman was intoxicating and he found himself unable to select a better adjective to describe her.

Adjectives aside, he ran his hand up her arm and across the back of her neck were the ties of her dress were located. Tugging gently at the loosely tied strings, he felt the pressure of the dress slack across her shoulders. He felt her hands on his arm and face and he enjoyed her touch thoroughly. He shifted his position, never breaking the kiss, pulling both legs onto the bed, straddling her legs and rising above her on his knees, his neck craned down. He pulled away for a moment to gaze onto her beautiful face. Lothíriel's eyes were closed, her breath soft against his skin. She opened those grey eyes and brushed her fingers across his cheekbone. Knowing he could postpone his desire no longer, he descended upon her lips swiftly and fiercely. She met his intensity with her own, pulling him down to her.

Her taste made him weak as he moved closer, felling the swell of her breasts against his rib cage. Their clothing needed to be removed, he realized. Running his hands across her shoulders, he slid the material of her dress down her arms until it pooled at her waist. His lips moved from hers to feel their way across her jaw and down her neck. Her hands drew the hem of the shirt up his stomach and chest. He removed his lips from her to throw the garment off his body, careless of where it landed. All he cared about was returning his lips to Lothíriel's skin, which he did promptly. Her hands ran across his back as he leaned forward. He felt her fingers trace the scars on his flesh and he took pleasure in the softness of her touch. His lips moved lower, flowering across her collarbone as her head dropped back, black hair falling down her back, pooling in his hands. He reached her perfect breasts, but before he could fully enjoy them, he would have to lay her down.

Rising back to her lips, he kissed her again, holding her head as he pushed her to the mattress gently. She was like silk beneath him, her hair fanning against the pillow. Eager to the resume his attention to her skin, Éomer used his lips to retrace his path down her neck. When he reached her breasts, her back arched, bringing them to his mouth. She moaned and he felt it resonate in her chest as he continued. her hands wound through his hair and against the back of his neck as he felt her softness beneath him.

After so many long years of suffering the elements and hardship, Éomer's body had almost forgotten the smoothness it had once owned as a child. Even feather beds denied him that small appreciation, but Lothíriel's skin was a remedy. He quieted her moans with his mouth, longing to taste her once again. His hand ran from her shoulder across the peak of one breast, down her smooth stomach to where the dress still lay gathered at her hips. She smiled against his lips as he tried to remove it and she quickly wiggled herself free of it. Éomer deepened the kiss appreciatively as his hand continued its journey.

He felt the wonderfully soft skin of her hips, curving beneath his hand as she drew one leg up. His memory of her strong thighs was rekindled as he felt the muscles beneath his fingers. He loved the paradox of her strength and tenderness, completely in harmony. Sliding his hand down her inner thigh, he met her heated center. He felt her eyelashes flutter against his cheek as he kissed her when his fingers swept over her softness, damp with pleasure. He felt his own desire straining, beating in his blood as he realized his pants were still on. Cursing to himself, Éomer tried to remedy the situation without leaving her gorgeous lips. But alas, she was the smarter being. She caught his face in her hands and broke the kiss.

He pulled away slightly, trying to mask his disappointment. She smiled warmly and pushed him up until he sat above her. Fumbling to get out of the wretched britches, he looked down at his patient, beautiful wife. Her hair lay on the pillow like a dark halo and her lips were flushed. Her breasts were perfectly formed, rising and falling as she breathed and he couldn't stop admiring her. He squirmed and fidgeted ungracefully until the pants had been removed. She grinned at his success and pulled him down to her again.

They wasted no time as he felt her legs flank his lower body. He eagerly resumed kissing her as he felt her warmth against him. He paused, remembering the last time they'd done such things. She must have noticed his hesitation because she brushed her lips against his cheek to whisper against his ear.

"I am yours," she said, the huskiness of her voice sending shivers down his spine. She gave him an encouraging nuzzle as he pushed into her. Just as before, he found himself flawlessly matched for her and her warmth encased him like a scabbard to a sword.

"Lothíriel," he murmured against her as his hips began to move, almost unbidden. She molded to his body and a rhythm was established. He kissed her neck and felt her skin against his. One smooth leg wrapped around his slightly, holding him as her hands ran across his back and neck. Her taste was indescribable as he felt her breasts, hands, lips, hair touch him. Every inch of his skin was sensitive to Lothíriel and he took pride in the way she felt.

His passion and desire built until he was certain they'd both catch fire. That was alright. As long as she was warm. His rhythm increased as her back arched, closing the gap between their bodies as he felt his release. Her muscles rippled against him as he gave himself to her. Exhausted, he lay above her as she breathed. He hadn't realized the how hot his skin had become, but he didn't care.

Worried he was crushing her, he pulled her against him and rolled over, bringing her with him. she laughed quietly and settled against him, her head on his chest. He felt apprehensive about what to do next. Should they get dressed and go to sleep? He was unsure, but took a cue from her as she embraced him. He wrapped one arm around her waist, the other brushing black curls from her face. Her eyes were closed as he held her to him and he leaned to the side, extinguishing the candle on her side of the bed. The other candle on his desk would just have to wait or die on its own. Settling against the pillows, Éomer pulled the covers above his waist and her lower back. He kissed the top of her head and turned to pull her close.

"Good night, Lothíriel."

A/N: Alright, another short chapter from one person's POV. Sorry! I'm going nuts with finals and I've never written this kind of scene before, if you catch my drift. ;) Thanks for all of the support!