Eomer Fics To Read

His command came from habits formed over years of riding together, and so did her immediate obedience. Her loyalty had always been faultless; loyalty to Rohan, loyalty to him. Whenever he called and whatever he asked for, she gave, just as she came to meet him now, regardless of what had transpired between them last night. 

This new epiphany that her devotion to him might be encouraged not just by duty, but a love to reciprocate his, still felt like too much to hope for. 

They rode side by side down the levels of Minas Tirith, and soon were past the city’s great white walls. At the slightest shift of his master’s weight, Firefoot burst into a full charge down the North-way, rejoicing at the freedom to run across open land once more, an impatience that mirrored Eomer’s own. Next to them, Greywind and rider matched their gait to keep up, and they tore their way for several miles northward into Pelennor. 

Eomer’s body sang at the rush of the wind over his skin, through his hair and his cloak that streamed over Firefoot’s haunches. Too long had he been cooped up within the city walls, tethered to the duties of his new office. It still felt unseemly for him to carry the title of King while his uncle had yet to be properly laid to rest among his forebears, but he was determined to serve in every manner his people required. 

This involved taking guidance from his newly formed council, who seemed to believe that the first order of business was to reaffirm and restrengthen Rohan's alliance with Gondor. In the weeks that followed the great feast at Cormallen, Eomer spent more time with new acquaintances, lords and ladies from the noblest families of Gondor, than with his own men. His Éored, who had been the rock at his side for nearly the whole of the past year, were granted time to rest and convalesce according to their desires, and every one eagerly embraced the offered leave.

That included her, most painfully and noticeably. Each day that passed by filled with council meetings and formal dinners but nearly nothing of her, had dragged Eomer further into despair. When she finally reappeared for the coronation, dressed the way she was…small wonder that he finally lost hold on propriety the moment he touched her. 

In seemingly no time at all, they left it all behind. The high ramparts and looming towers of the grand city turned into a white speck on the mountainside. So far out north into the fields and away from the main road, they had separated themselves from the thousands that had flocked to the city to celebrate the coronation, and retreated into the peace of the vast plains that bore some semblance to their home. 

Eomer eased Firefoot into a relaxed pace and she followed suit. Afterward they were blanketed in silence but for the clink of tack and thud of hooves on the long grass finally regrown in the end of Pelennor’s strifes. 

One sideways glance showed Eomer that she remained resolved to look anywhere but in his direction. No matter. If she refused to look at him, he would gladly stare at her, and take his fill of what he had been deprived of for weeks. 

He had forgotten what a vision she made outside of armor, so long had they lived in battle gear. The gown she wore to the coronation ball had distracted him all evening, but it painted her beauty too foreign. The plain clothes of their people suited her best. On her, the wine-red dress underneath her green Rider’s cloak outstripped any fine silk confection. Her hair, usually held back in tight braids or trapped underneath a war helm, flowed in free waves that tumbled to her waist and made his fingers ache with longing. 

To see her in this manner reminded him of what Rohirrim sacrifice had achieved: the end to a life of constant peril, and in its place, domestic bliss. Eomer knew he would be wholly content to look upon her this way forever. And by Bema, by all the Valar that might hear, he prayed that she would let him. 

Another mile or two passed in the bleak silence before the skies gave him the opening he needed. The faint drizzle that had lazily harried them gradually intensified into a downpour, and the menacing grey clouds above rumbled a fair warning. 

Eomer pointed to a copse of beeches in the distance. “That should suffice for us to wait out the worst of it,” he said, and they directed their horses into the thicket. 

After releasing Firefoot and Greywind to find cover and graze at their leisure, they took their shelter underneath the tree with the most generous canopy. As Eomer watched her gather the cascade of her soaked hair over one shoulder, she happened to raise her eyes in his direction and catch his gaze. Her face remained impassive, but she did not look away again. She knew she could no longer delay what he had requested her company for. 

“May we speak now?”

The tense lines on her brow softened. “My lord,” she said, in a tone that was almost contrite. “I am here to listen to whatever you wish to say.”

“Good,” Eomer said, and needed one more breath to steady himself. “Good...” 

"Long has there been great camaraderie between us as comrades in arms, but in time that deepened into…more meaningful affection.” When she did not flinch at that attestation, he carried on. “After last night, it is clear that we must lay bare the extent of our feelings and finally be open with each other."

Her mouth trembled. “My lord--”

“I love you,” Eomer said. “I recognize no plainer truth than that. I am no bard or scholar, and so it is hard for me to describe what I feel for you...as it would be hard for anyone to explain the glory of the sun or the vastness of the skies. But you must know that it is love, nonetheless."

She remained silent at this, and her clenched jaw told him no response was forthcoming. But he had more. 

“These past years, Rohan’s protection occupied all of my waking thoughts. There was no time to consider ambitions for myself. And what need did I have for that, when the sole object of my desires rode in my company to every battle? But after all our years together, I suppose I began to take for granted that you would always be close by, even while I drowned in fear that one sword stroke could separate us forever."

He edged a step closer to her, driven by the mere suggestion of such unspeakable loss. 

“When you grew distant after Theodred's passing, I awoke to my folly. I wished to blame your withdrawal from me on your grief, but my jealous mind whispered that my long buried suspicions were confirmed, that you had always desired his devotion over mine. I wrestled with the torment from it, until last night, when you gave me reason to hope again.” 

“But..but I did not…y-you had never…” She cut off her own stammering and squared herself determinedly before continuing. “I never found sufficient cause to believe you could care for me so, my lord.” 

“The fault is mine for not being forthright with you from the start. I will do whatever I must to remedy that now.” Suddenly they were face to face on the same side of the tree, for she had not thought to dart away from his advances this time. “I would shout it from the very spire of their great Tower if it will end your doubts.” 

He reached for her, and the edge of his hand found her chin. Contrary to his bold declaration he repeated, barely above a whisper: “I love you.” 

“No,” she murmured back. “Please. You must not say such things.” 

“Why not, when it is the truth?”

“Because it is a truth you cannot act on.”

Eomer’s hand dropped to his side as he barked a humorless laugh. “Granted I have not held the role for very long, but that seems a peculiar thing to tell a King.”

“You are the King now, and that binds you to do things according to your duty, not according to your desire.” She lowered her head. “That is the truth that matters, my lord. Love cannot always prevail over everything.”

The familiar frustration marked with dread clawed at Eomer again. “My love for you will prevail over this,” he vowed. “Moreso because it is love returned.”

Only the sound of splattering rainfall followed, and the realization that she was starting to turn away.

“You… you do love me.”

“I do not.”

The ensuing crack of thunder paled against the shock her reply struck in Eomer. She slipped away from his side once more while he fumbled through his recollections of the previous night.

Drunk as he had been on the taste of her kisses, he could not have misunderstood her impassioned outburst. You are all I ever see, even when I do not wish to!  He had dissected that precious confession over and over in his head and basked in sweeter hope that he had ever dared to feel about anything.

“I will not accept that. I do not believe it!”

In a handful of strides he overtook her as she fled to the edge of the grove, where the trees stood further apart and exposed them to the deluge. 

“What is causing you to deny me? Deny yourself, deny us?!” She attempted to step around him, but Eomer blocked her progress relentlessly. “Is it that misguided belief of yours that I am, in your words, ‘taken’?” 

Finally she succumbed and stood in place, cold and drenched and as stock-still as a soldier holding the line. But Eomer found the answer clear on her grimace. 

"Do you mistake me for some bull that has been put on the market for the highest bidder? Or believe me so feeble that I have no control over my choice of wife?!"

She stiffened at his rising rebuke and shook her head. “Not just a wife, my lord. A Queen. You must choose the right woman to offer to Rohan as our long-awaited Queen.”

“Marry me and it is done.”

Immediately her eyes widened and her face blanched, as his bluntness finally plowed through her shields.  “Oh Eomer,” she breathed, and the return of his name on her lips nearly rendered him as dazed as she was. 

He moved to embrace her, but she clutched him by the forearms, guarding her space. He felt her fingers tremble as they dug into the fabric of his tunic sleeves. He thought he might have heard a sob, but in the rain it was impossible to discern the source of the drops slipping down her cheeks. 

“I know you are wiser than that,” she told him. “You know Rohan’s political realities, regardless of your distaste for them. Your rise to your uncle’s throne has separated us by a chasm that cannot be bridged.” She sensed his intention to interrupt and spoke even louder. “I am an orphaned stray, Eomer. Theodred’s favor may have rescued me from a life of insignificance, but I am still baseborn by anyone's standards. Yet however lowly I am, I can hold my head up with pride, because I have always known my place.”

“As do I.” Eomer slid his hand up the curve of her neck. “Your place is with me.”

“Yes it is.” Her smile was joyless as she gripped his wrist to keep his obvious desires at bay. “I belong at your side, on the open fields, with a sword in my hand, ready to give my life for you at a moment's notice. You gifted me with purpose, and riding in your company has brought me such honor. Please do not ask me to play a role where I will only fail and return to an object of derision.”

Eomer frowned. “I have only ever loved you. No one else is suitable for me to take to wife.”

She lifted those beautiful eyes to stare dead-evenly at him for the first time in months. “Dol Amroth,” she whispered. “The daughter of Prince Imrahil.”

The sadness in her eyes lifted the fog of ignorance that obfuscated him. He recognized that pain as the very same one that had pierced him each time he watched her in Theodred’s company. The way they smiled at each other, their intimate touches, their freely exchanged affection that made his stomach twist with envy. But he had been wrong in his interpretation of that situation, and so was she on this one. 

“What of her?” he said brusquely, pushing aside his full realization of what she was implying. 

“One does not have to sit at the council table to see the soundness of your match.”

“There is no match!”

“Then there will be and there should be!” she insisted. “Everyone sees it, and if you tell me you do not, then you have no right to accuse me of denying what is true.”

A low growl rumbled off Eomer and suddenly he was the one to swivel away, rubbing his face and rain-matted beard while he weighed his answer.

“I do not deny that overtures have been made by advisors, both mine and King Elessar's," he said finally. "Lothiriel does seem an obvious candidate to put forward as a consort for the King of Rohan. But that appropriateness has nothing to do with me. Had Theodred survived to stand in my place, they would be pushing her to him. Have I been counseled on the benefits of an alliance with Imrahil's house? Oh yes--with the subtlety of a hammer's blow. But I barely paid heed to that, since all that mattered to me was your opinion on the subject."

"My opinion," she echoed. She planted her hands on her hips and studied her muddied boots for a long moment. "I can offer you what I know. You, Eomer King, will be the greatest ruler the Mark has ever seen. Your rule deserves every opportunity it can claim, and this offer of an alliance with Dol Amroth is one you cannot dismiss. I have heard nothing but praise and approval at the prospect, from mouths both common and noble."

"Princess Lothiriel is young, and beautiful, and beloved. Her blood is of the most distinguished and most powerful house in Gondor. She will give you exactly what you need. What Rohan needs."

She suddenly came forward to cradle Eomer's face between her hands, a touch he had only experienced in dreams until then. Except this was more akin to his worst nightmare. His inner wretchedness must have become evident in his furrowed brow and was too pitiful to ignore. "Moreover she will adore you, if she has not fallen already, for no maiden has ever lived whose heart you cannot ensnare.”

“Do not flatter me in one breath only to spurn me in the next,” Eomer muttered. “I did not ask for you to wax poetic about my future with another woman. I want your thoughts about all that matters. Us.”

“Us?”

She tried to withdraw her hands, but Eomer caught them in time, and held them firm against his chest, as if it could make her feel how consumed his heart was by her. 

“Once I might have carried hope for us,” she said softly. “Hope that I could one day be enough, because I knew you cared for Rohan above all else and admired my dedication to our people. I thought perhaps in time, that admiration might grow to love, as mine did so quickly after I met you."

“But it did, it--”

Her hands jerked inside his grip, their next attempt at escape futile. “Any hope I had for us died with Theodred,” she said tersely. “When his charge as the King's heir passed on to you. Let it rest with him.”

The roll of receding thunder brought Eomer back to a distinct memory of that dreadful day at Isen. The raw anguish on her face as she looked up at him with Theodred's head on her lap. Her frightened reluctance at releasing the prince for Eomer to take on Firefoot. 

It had rained too when Eomer came to bring her the news of his passing not a day later. Ignoring the heavy downpour, she ran out to meet him as he approached her cottage, and broke down before he could get the words out. He had to lead her back inside and wrap her in a blanket before she caught a chill. She clung tightly to him as he held her for a long while, bewildered by her sobs. It was the only time he had ever seen her weep. 

Only then did it dawn on Eomer: it was not just the loss of Theodred that she had mourned. 

“Run away with me.” 

It burst from his lips without a thought. 

“Wh-What? No!” She yanked away from him with such force he was left grasping for empty air. 

“Come with me, and let us run away together.” He rushed after her as she strode toward their horses. She already knew his mind, but he also knew hers, and there was nothing left for him to employ to sway her to his thinking. Nothing but this brazen proposal. 

“Away to where?!” she cried, without bothering to look his way. She came up to Greywind and seized her saddle pommel, but Eomer’s hand closed around hers, stilling her progress. 

“Anywhere. Far enough to take you away from all this--” Eomer swung out his free arm in a gesture as wild as the fervor in his eyes. “Away from everything that is confusing you.”

She started shaking her head vigorously and backing away. “Eomer, no. You are mad!”

“Do not tell me that!” Eomer lurched forward in pursuit, yet knew better than to grab her. She could not lose him out here where there was nowhere to hide. But he would lose her if she shut him out again by refusing to listen. 

“Do not tell me I am mad when the only madness is you believing we do not deserve a future together!” Each time he blocked her path, she pivoted in another direction, and he immediately swerved to repeat the dance. “Madness is you rejecting a man who yearns for you more than a mortal heart could possibly bear, clinging to the barefaced lie that you do not feel exactly the same.”

At that, she fell still. In the stillness Eomer realized that the rainstorm had finally dissipated, and in studying her face, he noticed the drops that continued to slip from the edges of her closed eyes, gliding to her quivering jaw. 

“You know as well as I that we belong together.” He caught one of the tears with the edge of his thumb, smoothing his finger over her soft, flushed skin. “So let us take the road west and… and just keep riding. Let me take you home. Our people here will follow soon enough, and when they arrive we can meet them as man and wife.”

“Eomer,” she sighed, before falling silent, her eyes still shut. He hoped she would take her time finding ease, so she may really consider his offer. But she responded immediately, too quickly, once again. “We cannot just abandon our obligations.”

“You insist we cannot, but we can. You can do whatever you wish. You just need to decide what that is--"

“No! No, no, no…” The word morphed into whimpers on her lips, an effort to drown him out.

“--and that is all I ask. That you shut out thoughts of all else and answer truly, from your heart." Something in Eomer’s throat tightened, as though an invisible hand had seized his neck and threatened to choke him. He swallowed and persisted with all the courage he could muster. "Will you marry me?"

“No.”

“Please.” It tasted bitter on his tongue, for Eomer son of Eomund had never begged for anything in his life, even as it took the last shreds of pride for him not to fall on his knees in his final bid. “I am asking you for the truth. Your truth alone. Do you want me?”

Her eyes fluttered open, bearing the steely determination and battle strength that had won his respect years ago, and in that moment Eomer saw that that inner fire he loved would now crush him.

“No,” she answered. “I do not.”

To be continued in Part 3...

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You cursed to yourself and you hid in a small cavern, staying as quiet as you could, hoping you had managed to lose the band of orcs you had run across, and had run from.

Checking the wound on your leg you were relieved it was not too deep, though it did make it hard to walk. Sliding down and sitting, you remained silent and you listened to your surroundings. A few moments passed before you began to think about the events that had occurred throughout the day.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"I just don't understand why you don't trust me Haldir" you said with anger laced in your voice as you quickly walked down the steps of the palace.

"I do trust you Y/n" Haldir's gentle voice said from behind you as he followed you.

You spun around, causing him to stop abruptly "It doesn't seem like it. Any time there is danger, no matter how small, you get in my way as though I cannot handle it."

"I am simply protecting you."

"I do not need protecting! I can handle myself Haldir, you know that I am skilled enough, I just don't understand why you can't let me prove it." You spun back around and quickly left, Haldir watched as you did, not continuing to follow you.

After your argument, you agreed to go on a solo scouting mission to check the surroundings lands outside of Lothlórien. It was supposed to be simple. But, with your luck, you managed to run into a band of orcs. You were able to kill most of them, but being alone, you could not handle all of them, so you had to flee to save your own life.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Now as you sat in the damp dark cavern, you thought of how angry Haldir might be. Would you be proving his point? Or yours? Either way, you felt annoyed that you ended up getting stuck in this situation at all.

You wanted Haldir to see your potential, your strength. To see you. Your feelings for him almost made you desperate for his attention and approval. Yet he still felt like he had to protect you.

Having heard no sign of any orcs, you rose slowly as you began to leave the cavern. Making your way back towards Lothlórien, all the while wondering what you would say to Haldir when you saw him.

- - -

Haldir paced in front of the gates anxiously. When he found out you had gone on a scouting missing alone he felt his chest tighten. He always went with you. But his mind kept flashing back to your argument. You thought he was protective because he did not think you capable. In reality, it was because he had feelings for you, well beyond your friendship. He knew you were fully capable of taking care of yourself, but the fear that he might lose you was stronger. So he often took charge and stepped in, stopping you from having to fight, but you only saw it as an insult.

Haldir let out a defeated sigh as he looked up to the sky. You were late. You were supposed to return hours before. It was taking everything in his being not to chase after you, to go look for you. That urge was too strong, and as Haldir gave into it he began to walk towards the exiting path of the palace, but halted when a figure appeared out of the darkness.

You stopped when you saw Haldir approaching, and he stopped when his eyes landed on you. You saw his eyes rake over your figure, a small frown appeared as he spotted the dirt, blood and grime on your clothes.

You let out a breath before you began to approach him, as he moved to meet you you spoke before he could "There is a large band or orcs moving on the outskirts of Lothlórien, I've already alerted the guards at the outer gates."

Haldir, though having heard what you said, ignored it "Are you alright, you're injured."

"I'm fine Haldir. Just a small wound to my leg, nothing to worry about, I had it handled and I was smart enough to know I could not take on all of the orcs, so I made my escape."

Haldir could hear the defensiveness behind our voice, you were still upset, and probably more so now that you returned injured when you were surely trying to prove a point. A small sad smile spread across his face as his emotions rose, he suddenly reached out, pulling you into a hug.

You staggered as you were pulled forward so suddenly feeling as though you were about to fall over, but Haldir kept you steady. You also found yourself speechless as Haldir wrapped his arms around you tightly. You had known him long enough to know that he was not a hugger, not that you were complaining. You hoped he could not feel your heart hammering heavily in your chest.

As he pulled away, he saw the confusion and shock in your face from his actions. He smiled, amused before he spoke "I am glad you are alright. And before yo saw anything else, let me speak." As you remained silent, he continued "I never act protective over you because I think you cannot handle yourself. I know you can. I simply-" he hesitation for a moment, trying to gather himself "I am protective because of how much I care for you, I act out of my fear of losing you."

You stared into his eyes as he spoke, seeing the apprehension and fear behind them. He did care for you. But you failed to see that it was anything more than friendship.

You spoke quietly "I care about you too Haldir, but trust me that I can handle myself. I will not be so careless as to let myself killed. "

He sighed, realizing you were still not understanding him. It was almost painful. Figuring that there was only one way to make it obvious what he meant, he used his courage while he had it.

Haldir grabbed you again, and for a moment you thought he was pulling you in for another hug. But your mind went blank when, instead of his arms wrapping around you, his lips crashed against yours as he kissed you fervently.

His hands continued to grip lightly around your arms as he kissed you. He was not sure how long he had his lips against yours before he pulled away. He watched as your eyes fluttered open, your gaze wide as you were clearly surprised.

Haldirs voice was quiet as he spoke "I do not care for you simply as a friend anymore Y/n. My fear of losing you is not the same as losing a friend. It is the fear of losing someone I love, without them ever knowing I love them."

You opened your mouth to speak, but remained speechless. You had been wrong, so wrong. "Haldir I-" you were unsure of what to say.

"It is alright Y/n, I do not need you to humor me if you do not feel the same."

"No Haldir, I do." Haldir looks at you in surprise "I just....I never thought you had seen me the same way."

Haldir smiled lightly "And I thought the same. We were both blind to the others feelings it seems."

"So it does" you replied quietly.

Haldir could not stop himself from gazing at your lips again, having now kissed you once, he could not stop the desire to do it again. He saw your lips curl into a small smile before he moved to meet your eyes, seeing you watching him closely.

A small smile spread across his face as well before he reached up, lightly placing his hand against your cheek before you both met in a kiss. This one more gently, slow, and careful. Both of your thoughts erasing the days previous argument and fears, now solely focusing on each other.

xx

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It wasn’t rare for the two of you to use your evenings back in town celebrating your conquests in the guard, cherishing the life you get to hold onto for just another day. Normally these celebrations include you and the rest of the guard, stowing away in a tavern for several hours, sharing one another's company and stories of danger that now you can somehow find funny enough to laugh about. As time has gone on you are capable of finding comfort in the mortality and exhilaration in the throes of battle, fighting for your life with every swipe and slice as the feeling of blood slips through the plates of your gloves, a tacky velvet you’ll have to take hours to scrub away.

Tonight, however, your focus is drawn not to the crowd of your comrades but rather to the handsome man across the room from you. Your eyes lock as you pull your mug of tolerable ale from your face, momentarily forgetting about it and the stale taste it left behind. He breaks the stare for just a moment as he brings his mug back to his face, downing what is probably his fourth ale of the night. Sitting the mug to the side, he stands locking eyes with you yet again before turning and quietly leaving out the door to the back, out into the streets.

Pushing your own mug aside, you stand quietly to avoid any prying eyes as you make to follow. This isn’t a situation that you’re unfamiliar with, not at all actually as you two have made a habit out of creative dalliances. You know what to expect as you follow him out into the cold of the dark autumn night, at least that’s what you thought . As you slip out the side of the door you find yourself in the back alley way of the tavern, littered with busted crates, whining cats and the occasional passerby near the entryway. The only other thing in your general vicinity besides you and Emoer would be the large wooden cart pulled to the side of the building, having been loaded with produce and draped over by a burlap tarp to be unpacked in the morning. Currently, this is what your lover had been leaning against in wait.

“About time.” He laughs to himself watching as you make your way over. He’s long since been ready for the next rendezvous between the two of you, biding his time until the next perfect distraction presents itself. Just something long enough for a quick bit of fun before the two of you had to make your way back to the barracks with the rest of your crew.

“So are we doing this, or not? We haven’t much time to waste, you know.” Starting to fiddle with the laces of your trousers, you try not to pay attention to his light mockings as he follows suit. He acts as if this was the first place you’d pick for a quick fuck, a scrap of intimacy otherwise denied to you for the sake of either of your jobs. If you had it your way the next place the two of you made love will definitely have a bit more ambiance and a tad less drunkard piss lining the stone path.

“Trust me darling, we’re doing this. Just be grateful that we have a bit more coverage this time. It’s most definitely a step up from a few slim pines.”

You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes as you turn around just in time to reconnect with his as he grabs ahold of your waist, pushing you flush against the chilled brick of the wall behind you.

Stealing your lips with his, he brings you back into the intimacy of the moment, or what little you could find for that matter. Dragging his hips flush against yours, you feel your face get hot at the prodding man brushing against your stomach and thighs with every grind, the implication of what pleasure it can bring you brings a tremble to your knees. His lips trail down the side of your neck then back up as he focuses his attention to the pulse point just below your jaw, teeth and tongue working to make your breath hiccup and stall. Rubbing your thighs together you're awfully aware of the light chill that comes and goes as you thighs rock back and forth, rotating the exposed damn skin in your wake.

It’s so easy to have gotten lost in the moment when you're both stunned to silence, having been ripped back into reality at the sound of a young boy stopping at the entry of the alley way. Eomer presses himself more firmly against you and stays still behind the large cart as he listens for the boy calling out to his friends to catch up in fear of missing something. You can hear several feet running your way and for a moment you're very nervous as they one at a time make their way past the entrance and continue down the sidewalk.

The relief that leaves your being is palpable as your back loosens out of the hard line it had been in. Only to suddenly go back to being rigid as he slides his hands around and down your hips to cup the full globe of your ass,squeezing hard enough for the skin to pucker between he’s shred fingers. Groaning in appreciation, he hikes you up to be supported by his hips beneath yours as he makes better use of the position, pushing his cock against your core as he rocks against you, enjoying the slickness that had been built up in anticipation.

“We haven’t much time, shall we get to it then?” he asks, voice a deep mutter against your temple as he prepares to take the plunge deep within you. Nodding your head, he gives you one more kiss, swallowing your moans as he seats himself deeply inside of you, coming to a soft stop. You're grateful for the moment he gives you to catch your breath before he proceeds. Bouncing you up quickly he pushes his knees up to rest against his biceps and shoulders, pushing your thighs into your chest as he folds your firmly against the wall.

He kisses you once more as he begins to rock into you, leveraging heavily against the wall as he works his body into yours, swallowing your desperate cries and moans in an attempt to keep you from alerting the passerby’s.

He’s thick and heavy within you, barely needing to do more than simply move to make you keen and twitch within his arms, desperately trying to choke down your gasps of pleasure to avoid being caught. Your efforts are only encouraged by the sounds of people walking by the alley, completely unaware of the activities going on a few yards within. Bringing your hands down from his shoulders to cover your mouth, you hands clasp tightly against the skin as your teeth wear on the skin beneath.

Eomer takes advantage of the newfound space having been released from the short leash. Leaning back and bending his knees he begins to stir himself within you as he grinds his hips into your core, bringing out all of the stops to finish your quick fuck and return to your comrades. Despite the two of you yearning desperately to enjoy the moment you understand the importance of finishing up quickly.

As time comes to pass the wet slosh of your sex almost seems louder to you than your own moaning, the mere thought of a person overhearing the sounds of your coupling, catching you at the brink of orgasm is precisely what your needed. Throwing your head back to scrape against the harsh brick joining the ranks with your battered back, you crash head first into your finishing as you fight the urge to seize and whine in the arms of the man following close behind you.

A few harsh thrusts later that scrape your depths and force your jaw to hang in absolute bliss lead to his undoing. Pulling his hips away quickly, he holds you up a moment longer; a rumble leaves him as his leaking seed dribbles onto the cold stone below, the only evidence to remain of the evening you’ve shared.

He holds you tightly against him as type two comes down from your highs, soaking up the chilly night air as it burns your lungs further. The soft kisses that follow are gentle and barley there as he tries to give you the semblance of romance you so desperately wanted.

“Perhaps we should put in leave, take a trip?” He suggests, a hint of longing in his tone. He’d be a liar to say he didn’t want a moment with you where he felt like your love had to be hidden, where he kisses you and holds you and listens to your cries of love and appreciation sing to the heavens. So you smile, grateful for the offer.