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You laughed amused at the bickering of Gimli and Legolas. If you had to believe the stories your older brother, Aragorn, had told you, Gimli should know better than to try and challenge the Elf to a drinking contest.
Sipping your own ale, you look around the large Mess Hall of Edoras. You had come here with your Kingly brother on a diplomatic mission to strengthen the bonds between Gondor and Rohan. Even though the two nations had fought together, treaties needed to be re-established seeing after Denethor’s mismanagement and Theoden’s illness.
So here you were, drinking ale and trying not to make your eyes search for a certain Rohirrim rider. “Y/N.” You turn your head when a feminine voice addressed you. Lady Eowyin sat down beside you and topped up your mug with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. The two of you had bonded a lot over the visit, complaining about headstrong older brothers who happened to be Kings. Both of you were warriors, and treated each other as equals even though you were decades older than her.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” she asked as she filled her own mug as well. You clinked your mug against hers and took a big sip.
“I do. To be honest, I feel more at home here than in Gondor or Rivendell.” The Shieldmaiden looked surprised. “I feel lost at the prim Gondorian court. And I feel inadequate next to the Elves.” She nodded understanding as she glanced at Legolas, seeing his superior beauty. “People in Edoras are much more open and down to earth.”
Eowyn turned back to you with a knowing look. “Do you like it here because it’s less restrictive or because of my brother?”
You feel your cheeks flush, turning your gaze down and wondering if you could drown yourself in your mug. Would be one heck of a story if you managed it. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” you lied, scowling a bit when your friend chuckled disbelieving. The lie hadn’t sound convincing at all, making you sigh in despair. For decades, you had managed to evade the notion of love, too busy fighting to care about it. Now, however, peace had returned, and it seemed the Valar had decided to knock you over the head with this emotion.
“He likes you too.” You almost choked on your drink when Eowyn dropped the news on you. No, you must have heard her wrong. “He has been trying to discreetly ask me and your brother about you. Although discreet isn’t really part of his vocabulary.”
No, it was one thing for you to have budding feelings for the King of Rohan, but to hear he may have similar feelings towards you. That was a bit too much of a stretch. “I’m going out for some air.” Eowyn’s lips quirked but she didn’t stop you, watching to leave the Hall as stealthy as you could.
The cool air brushed against your skin when you stepped outside and closed the door behind yourself, your shoulders lowering as the loud sounds of the Hall became muffled. You walked away from the door and went to stand in the shadows of the building, wrapping your arms around your waist as you watched the stars.
Your lips tingled as you thought back to a previous night where you had gone outside to watch the stars. Eomer had joined you, telling you stories of his youth where he would make up stories for his sister about the stars. He had shown you his horse, even had gone riding with you under the stars when you felt closed in. It felt nice to speak with someone who had never expected to be in a royal position and preferred the wide-open plains over the inside of a stuffy hall.
You looked at your hands, imagining feeling his hands touching them. Feeling the callousness on his skin from years of handling the spear and reigns. His mane long, giving him a wild look. His eyes always so intense as he watched you. Your stomach tightened as your cheeks heat up. You groaned as you cupped your own face, shaking your head.
No, do not think about Eomer. It would not do you any good. But you could not stop yourself from remembering the look on his face as you told him about your first horse, a gentle mare you had called Aelfhilde. Strange tingles went through you as you thought how often he had come to you, even if it was just for a few moments of conversation. How much you enjoyed spending time with him, too much honestly. Your fingertips touched your lips as you closed your eyes, your mind drifting.
Thoughts had pulled you in so deeply, that you hadn’t noticed the sounds that came from the hall becoming louder for a moment, and heavy footsteps moving up behind you.
“You’ll get cold like this,” a deep voice spoke as a warm thick fabric settled on your shoulders. You looked back startled and met the eyes of the Horse Lord that had been occupying your thoughts. His eyes glistered in the moon light as he watched you intensely.
“Lord Eomer,” you spoke startled as your fingers clutched the edges of the cloak. He looked even more rough with his hair loose and wearing a simple tunic. You narrowed your eyes faintly at the way the fabric stretched over his muscles. Did he grab a tunic a few sizes too small? His lips twitched, his eyes becoming more intense.
“Have I not told you to call me just Eomer when it is the two of us?” He stepped closer, his hand settling on your hip. You did not move even though something inside of you told you that you should. You wanted him closer. “Have I not, Y/N?”
“Yes, you have, Eomer.” He stepped even closer, the faint scent of earth and musk tingled your senses. His other hand settling on your hip as well. “How much did you drink?” You could smell some traces of beer on him, it wasn’t unpleasant.
“Not nearly enough to be able to handle a drunk Dwarf,” he drawled cheekily, giggles escaping your lips as you carefully rested your hand against his chest. Feeling heat radiating off him, making your hands feel warm. “How much did you drink?” His fingers caressed your cheek, making your eyes flutter shut and lean into his touch.
“Not nearly enough to influence me. Grew up with Elves, remember.” Creases appeared at the corner of his eyes as his fingers brushed your hair behind your head.
“I’m surprised how much Legolas drinks. I had not expected it.”
You laughed. “I know it is surprising, but if you knew his father, you would understand. The man has wine running through his veins.” Eomer’s hand pulled you closer, your fingers curling and holding onto the tight fabric of his tunic. He smelled so good. The cloak warm around you.
“You must be cold.” He shook his head as his thumb rubbed against your hipbone, his eyes did not waver from your face. It made the tingles in your stomach intensify. “You sure? We could go someplace else where it is warmer.”
His Adam’s apple moved as his hand tightened. Stepping even closer to you as his other hand rested between your shoulder blades. Your lips becoming dry as you couldn’t, nor wouldn’t, look away from him. It was like being watched by a predator, and you had become the prey of choice. It excited you, called to your own hunting side, and made you want to flip the situation. However, you could also appreciate the dominance and pure manliness that radiated off him.
“I like the sound of that.” You gasped when he suddenly picked you up in his arms and walked off into the shadows. You wrapped your arms around him and gave him a startled look. That had been unexpecting, but it made you feel excited as well. Your thumb brushed over his lips, feeling the slight roughness of them.
He carried you into his wing of the palace, using his shoulder to open the door of what you presumed was his bedroom. The only light that chased away the darkness came from the fireplace, but he didn’t allow you any time to look around before he turned you in his arms and pushed you against the wall.
Instinctively you wrapped your legs around his waist, making your skirts hike up, and your hands resting on his shoulders. His eyes burned in the faint glow of the fire – his breathing ragged, matching yours.
“Say no. If you don't want this, say no.” No? Why should you say no to something you've been fantasising for a long time? Instead of replying, you moved your hand between you two and cupped the hard member that pressed against the fabric of his pants. Biting your bottom lip, you moved your hand up and down. Fuck, the Valar surely had blessed him.
He swore low under his breathe in Rohanese, resting his forehead against your shoulder. You tilted your head and nibbled his earlobe carefully, smirking as you felt him twitch in his pants. “I want it,” you murmured in his ear, giving him a squeeze.
The air rushed out of your body as he moved you two towards the bed, tossing you onto the mattress. You recovered from the shock and sat up, grabbing his tunic to pull him closer and kiss him deeply. He grabbed your hips as he kissed you back as deeply as you gave it to him.
Clothes flew across the room, hands roaming, the air filling with harsh pants, soft groans, and breathless moans. You marvelled about the roughness of his chest – chiselled muscles covered by a dusting of coarse golden hair.
His hands grasped your breasts, the pads of his thumbs brushing against your nipples. You gasp as you try to press your thighs together but he had pulled you onto his lap. His lips caressed he throat, massaging your breasts firmly.
Your skin felt tight and hot, a warm sensation filling your belly. “Eomer,” you gasped as he tugged on your nipples. Wetness coating your folds as his touch aroused you like nothing had before. His brown eyes looked almost black even in the light of the fireplace and candles. The features of his face stark and sharp his skin flushed with colour.
“What was that saying…” he looked curiously at you as you move your hands down again. Wrapping your fingers around the long length of his manhood, feeling how virile and hard he was. “…save a horse, ride a Rohirrim?”
He chuckled, but the look of hunger and lust in his eyes intensified. “Need to get you prepared to ride then,” he rumbled as his hand moved between your legs. His fingers stroking between your folds. You sighed as he made pleased sounds when he felt how wet you already had become.
You whispered his name again as he fanned the fire in your belly with his skilful fingers. Tilting his head back, you kissed him hungry. Getting impatient with the slow way he pleasured you. Your hand stroked him, teasing him in an attempt to hurry him up. You had never been patient, and could one blame him. The Valar had done an outstanding job creating him, and you had hungered for him for too long.
“I’m trying to make you feel cherished,” he growled as his eyes burned in the faint light. It made your heart squeeze with tender emotions. Swatting his hand away, you rubbed the tip against your wet folds. Cupping his cheek and kissed him slowly, you showed him he tenderness that his words made you feel.
“You already do. You have driven me crazy, my lord, and I cannot wait longer.” Both of you moaned as you sank down on his shaft. Tossing your head back, you feel yourself part to accommodate him. Eomer plumped up your breast, sucking on your nipple as you settled down onto his lap.
Your pulse a hard drum in your veins, your hands stroked his body eagerly. Sighing and gasping as shivers rolled down your spine because of the pleasure. Pushing him down onto his back, you settled better onto his lap. His hands moved down your sides to your hips, grasping them firmly.
“Time to ride my Rohirrim,” you whispered seductively as your hands rested on his chest. The ride could only be described as euphoric. The sounds of your moaning mixed with his groaning. His hands helped you move, his pelvis grinding against you which made pleasure shoot from your core to the tips of your fingers and toes.
You alternated between speeds or the way you moved your hips. Enjoying the sounds he made: moans of pleasure or growls of frustration. His beard leaving red marks on her skin, the coarseness another layer of pleasure for you.
Too soon, you froze and pleasure rushed through your body. You called out his name as your head falls back. Eomer’s hands tightened on your hips so much that you vaguely wondered if you would wear bruises in the morning. He grunted and bit your collarbone as you felt him come inside of you.
Your heart pounded, ears burning as your muscles quivered. “Y/N,” he murmured and pressed his lips soothingly against the bite mark he had made on your collarbone. You combed your fingers through his hair as he laid you down carefully. Hissing, you felt him pull out of you.
“Don’t go, it feels cold,” you whined playfully as he got out of bed. His eyes softened as he gave you a little smile.
“I will be back in a second. I want to take care of you.” He pressed his lips against yours for a long few moments, stroking your breasts, before pulling away again. He moved to a basin in the corner of the room and put a piece of cloth in it. When he returned to you, he cleaned you up with gentle and tender strokes. You murmured softly as it felt nice to have the sweat removed of your body.
After he had finished cleaning you both up, and put away the cloth, he crawled into bed with you. Covering you both and holding you in his arms. “Stay,” he murmured as he combed your hair back.
“Of course…as I said, it feels cold.” You smiled as he laughed softly into your hair, your face resting against his chest. Weariness filled your body, and you drifted off at the soothing sound of his heartbeat.