Title: Sharing the Spoils of War
Author: Elly
Character: Éomer, Faramir, Éowyn
Rating: PG13/R
Summary: Éomer takes something that belongs to his sister.
Notes: Inspired by a Theban Band manip, originally intended as April's Christmas present. I realize it's now the middle of March. =D
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Perhaps it was the hair. Or maybe the smile, they did have the same smile. Faramir didn't really know. And, he supposed, it hardly mattered now. The fact was that he was in love with the White Lady of Rohan, and in the arms of her brother. Whatever it was, it wasn't proper. But he found he didn't care as Eomer's lips covered his own. Their free time and their similar interests had prompted Faramir to offer an unofficial tour of the city as night fell, both were eager to escape the noise of the coronation's left over revelry. They walked through the city as the sun set, making their way through level after level while twilight surrounded them. It was dark now and the streets of Minas Tirith were deserted, no one saw the young King of Rohan pin Faramir against a wall in a darkened street, hips pressing tightly against hips. Kisses trailed across Faramir's face, moving down towards his neck, while hands held him tight, their heat searing through his clothing. Panic flitted across his brain and nearly made it to his lips, but then Eomer's hips shifted, sending a wave of purely visceral pleasure to replace the panic. Faramir let a low moan and he felt more than heard Eomer's low laugh against his neck. The sensation made him shiver, his body tensing against Eomer's. He felt the King's hand move to grasp his hair while the other spanned wide on the small of his back, keeping them close. Gently, Eomer tugged on his hair, tilting his head back and exposing more of his neck. Faramir felt the heat of Eomer's tongue slide over his pulse, followed by the scrape of teeth. Confusion, then, as he felt a sudden pain he couldn't identify through the haze of pleasure. Couldn't, until he felt Eomer's teeth sinking further into his neck. Shock, as he tried to pull away, half-heartedly, his blood still running hot with pleasure that had, inexplicably, not dimmed with the pain. But Eomer's hands held him fast, his hips still moving against Faramir's. Faramir moaned again, more of a whimper, and Eomer pushed him harder against the wall. He was beginning to feel lightheaded and his whole body continued to respond to Eomer's movements. Eomer gave on last, hard thrust of his hips, tearing his mouth away from Faramir's throat simultaneously, sending the Prince over the edge. His eyes opened wide and his vision blurred as he went limp, supported by Eomer's arms. To his shock, he saw movement in the shadows and what was undoubtedly Eowyn stepped forward, uttering a low growl. He didn't understand how he knew who it was when he couldn't see her face, but he knew just the same. "You could have left him for me, he was supposed to be mine." Her voice was low, muffled by the shadows and the hooded cloak she wore. Eomer only smiled and shifted Faramir in his arms as Eowyn threw back her hood. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. "I got impatient. Forgive me, sister." It wasn't a request. His voice was a purr, silky and sexual. Eowyn raised one eyebrow and studied her brother, ignoring Faramir as he moved his lips wordlessly. Sighing, she drew near to them. "I suppose I must, brother mine." Turning to face her, Eomer propped Faramir against the wall, where he slumped down into what closely resembled a fetal position at their feet. Eowyn leaned forward and caught the trickle of blood on Eomer's face with her tongue, lapping up every last bit and running her tongue across his lips, searching for any hidden drops.
Eomer laughed. "You'll have your turn, Eowyn. He'll not remember anything on the morrow." He looked down at the man at his feet. Then Faramir's world went black. |