A/N: Short but sweet (I think).
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My lovely, wonderful wife, how I love her! And if she were to ask me to run through fire for her, I would gladly do it. But that does not make her immune from my rare bouts of foolery.
As soon as I dropped her into the water, I realized that I was now in mortal peril, though I could not help but grin at her, and my heart melted when a slow smile spread across her beautiful face. She slapped the surface of the water in a weak attempt to get me wet as well, but I was too fast for her, darting out of the way just in time.
When I had suggested that she seduce me, I had not expected things to get so serious quite so fast, though all that she had done so far had delighted me beyond the telling of it. But to actually suggest swimming when we were so close to . . . well, to be blunt, the deed, it made me want to scream in frustration and laugh in delight at the same time. Tossing her into the pool was the closest that I could come to achieving both. But now, I had a wet wildcat on my hands.
Lucky me.
"Faramir, you come here right this minute!" she scolded as she laughed. I grinned most evilly at her predicament.
I shook my head. "Nay, Éowyn, you must come to me."
"I would, but I am becoming accustomed to the temperature of this water now, my lord." She was behaving most coquettishly, and I adored her all the more for it. I saw her slipping out of her wet clothing, as I could just make out her nakedness beneath the surface of the clear water, and I remembered that Éowyn does not dally over small things like being wet or cold. She likes to come to the point quickly, and I found myself involuntarily doing the same.
"I am waiting," I said, hoping that it sounded sufficiently impatient.
I groaned as she, surprisingly, slowly emerged from the pool, leaving her clothing behind, her nakedness dazzlingly glorious in the bright sunlight of the afternoon. Golden hair hanging long and dripping down her slender back, grey eyes glowing with anticipation, her lushly feminine curves bared to my very interested eyes, Éowyn approached. In a moment her mouth was tight against mine once more as she arched her body against me.
Drawing back from me abruptly, she breathlessly whispered, "I have felt neglected of late, Lord Faramir, but perhaps if you would allow me to show you the error of your ways, I might feel compensated for the lack of your attentions."
I did not trust my voice, for she was driving me to the edge of madness. And so, I simply offered her my hand and let her lead me where she would.
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My husband has been called bookish by people who do not know him well, for to the average bystander, he seems painfully so. He is ever caught up in his paperwork as Prince of Ithilien or Steward of Gondor, and if that was not enough for him, always he is reading some forgotten history of some forgotten place, while he sits in his study, all else about him forgotten.
But any who know him well, any who have seen him swing a sword or draw a bow, any who have seen him interacting with his children, any who have been lucky enough to see his smile when he is totally at ease, know that 'bookish' is a very inadequate description of Faramir. There are not enough words in the language to describe all of the facets of his personality. The only word I could choose for Faramir is 'mine'. And he is mine, body and soul, though his mind wanders quite often.
But I had his full attention now.
"Faramir," I said huskily, as I stooped down, scooping up a handful slick, wet mud from the edge of the pool, smearing it over my breasts in a teasing manner.
"Yes, love?" he uttered, the blood draining from his face, my husband completely mesmerized by my wanton display.
With a swift motion, I scooped up yet more of the muck, and I let fly, the mud splattering heavily upon his face. So surprised was he by it that I had time for another try, and while he was laughingly attempting to rid his right eye of some of the dark goo, I pulled his feet from under him, landing him flat upon his bare back upon the moss-covered ground, and while he was halfheartedly calling for mercy between giggles, I dragged him by his boots into the depths of the cool water, my revenge against him deliciously complete.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My lovely, wonderful wife, how I love her! And if she were to ask me to run through fire for her, I would gladly do it. But that does not make her immune from my rare bouts of foolery.
As soon as I dropped her into the water, I realized that I was now in mortal peril, though I could not help but grin at her, and my heart melted when a slow smile spread across her beautiful face. She slapped the surface of the water in a weak attempt to get me wet as well, but I was too fast for her, darting out of the way just in time.
When I had suggested that she seduce me, I had not expected things to get so serious quite so fast, though all that she had done so far had delighted me beyond the telling of it. But to actually suggest swimming when we were so close to . . . well, to be blunt, the deed, it made me want to scream in frustration and laugh in delight at the same time. Tossing her into the pool was the closest that I could come to achieving both. But now, I had a wet wildcat on my hands.
Lucky me.
"Faramir, you come here right this minute!" she scolded as she laughed. I grinned most evilly at her predicament.
I shook my head. "Nay, Éowyn, you must come to me."
"I would, but I am becoming accustomed to the temperature of this water now, my lord." She was behaving most coquettishly, and I adored her all the more for it. I saw her slipping out of her wet clothing, as I could just make out her nakedness beneath the surface of the clear water, and I remembered that Éowyn does not dally over small things like being wet or cold. She likes to come to the point quickly, and I found myself involuntarily doing the same.
"I am waiting," I said, hoping that it sounded sufficiently impatient.
I groaned as she, surprisingly, slowly emerged from the pool, leaving her clothing behind, her nakedness dazzlingly glorious in the bright sunlight of the afternoon. Golden hair hanging long and dripping down her slender back, grey eyes glowing with anticipation, her lushly feminine curves bared to my very interested eyes, Éowyn approached. In a moment her mouth was tight against mine once more as she arched her body against me.
Drawing back from me abruptly, she breathlessly whispered, "I have felt neglected of late, Lord Faramir, but perhaps if you would allow me to show you the error of your ways, I might feel compensated for the lack of your attentions."
I did not trust my voice, for she was driving me to the edge of madness. And so, I simply offered her my hand and let her lead me where she would.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My husband has been called bookish by people who do not know him well, for to the average bystander, he seems painfully so. He is ever caught up in his paperwork as Prince of Ithilien or Steward of Gondor, and if that was not enough for him, always he is reading some forgotten history of some forgotten place, while he sits in his study, all else about him forgotten.
But any who know him well, any who have seen him swing a sword or draw a bow, any who have seen him interacting with his children, any who have been lucky enough to see his smile when he is totally at ease, know that 'bookish' is a very inadequate description of Faramir. There are not enough words in the language to describe all of the facets of his personality. The only word I could choose for Faramir is 'mine'. And he is mine, body and soul, though his mind wanders quite often.
But I had his full attention now.
"Faramir," I said huskily, as I stooped down, scooping up a handful slick, wet mud from the edge of the pool, smearing it over my breasts in a teasing manner.
"Yes, love?" he uttered, the blood draining from his face, my husband completely mesmerized by my wanton display.
With a swift motion, I scooped up yet more of the muck, and I let fly, the mud splattering heavily upon his face. So surprised was he by it that I had time for another try, and while he was laughingly attempting to rid his right eye of some of the dark goo, I pulled his feet from under him, landing him flat upon his bare back upon the moss-covered ground, and while he was halfheartedly calling for mercy between giggles, I dragged him by his boots into the depths of the cool water, my revenge against him deliciously complete.