kingdomcomes | MINGLE: THE SNOW QUEEN

[Remus's cheeks flush a little, too, but he's more than grateful that she's spared him the trouble of having to be blunt.]

Right. Of course. Fair enough.

[He does know that it's a possibility, at least. He might be inexperienced but he was lucky enough to have parents who were open and honest with him about that sort of thing.

Remus watches Éowyn cross to sit on his bed and take off her cloak. His arms are wound tight around himself, but when she invites him to sit with her, he makes himself relax, and they drop to his sides as he pads across the room to sit by her side.]

You make a good point. Shall we...help each other out?

[As if to illustrate, he lays one tentative hand on her shoulder, plucking at the fabric there a little.]

[She nods, taking a deep breath in and tucking a lock of her hair more firmly behind her ear. From how warm her cheeks feel, she's pretty sure she's still blushing, but, well... She got herself into this. This is no time to be a faint-hearted, fluttering maiden - no time to back out, even in her mind.]

[Glancing at his hand on her shoulder, Éowyn bites her lip, steadies her mind, and reaches out to the fastenings of his clothes. It's easier, she quickly finds, to watch her hands work than to look at his face. If nothing else, she's undressed men before, so this part is less strange if she just... forgets the context.]

Help all you like. [Is this smile flirtatious, or just awkward? She's honestly not sure. Oh, well. She's pushing on through it, and hopefully he will too.] Be bold. Men and women have done this for all time, it cannot be so hard.

[Again, unsure. Is that thinking out loud, or actually aimed at him?]

[Remus is still a little unsure about all this, but her encouragement helps, and he nods, studiously going about undressing her, trying not to feel self-conscious about the fact that as the ties of his shirt come apart, more and more scars are revealed.]

Think I can manage, [he says, finding it easier to focus on his own hands in turn as he sets to work on the halves of the corset I assume she's wearing idk. Heeding her advice to be bold, Remus leans forward to press a warm kiss to her exposed shoulder while he works.]

[That feels... nice. Nicer than she expected, his mouth hot against her skin, his gentleness. Éowyn feels a flush of warmth run through her, and she smiles, tracing her fingertips down over his chest. She doesn't hurry, caught for the moment in tracing the scars that litter his skin.]

One day, you must tell me how you came by such wounds. [She's thinking aloud, really. The note of command in her voice is unintentional. Less unintentional, but more honest, is the underlying admiration. For a man to survive something that would leave such scars, for him to yet seem gentle and innocent despite it... that must have taken strength. She has always admired strength.]

[Without really thinking, she leans in and mimics his kiss, her lips closing over one of the larger scars for a moment before she pulls back to take off his shirt.]

[Remus shivers lightly at the way she's touching his scars; he can't help but think of what she wrote in the book, not so long ago, about wanting to see where those scars lead. It might not have been her own words, but the connecting is inescapable now.

Does he want to tell her? The reason for them doesn't much matter, now; it's a non-issue. But he's still hesitant, because of the stigma attached.]

M-maybe. Someday.

[It's as concrete an answer as he can give right now. Especially with her lips brushing his marred skin in a way he never imagined anyone would touch it. He was already beginning to stir in his breeches, and now even more so. His shirt divested, his fingers finish unlacing her and tug open the strings of her corset, only a little clumsy now that the hardest bit is over. He does his best to resist the urge to hide his skin, the way the lines criss-cross his torso, a mixture of newer pink lines and faded white ones. Remus leans back in and his mouth leans lower, kissing just above the hem of her shirt where it rests over top her breasts.]

[Éowyn makes a pleased little sound in the back of her throat. The nervousness, the faint shame, hasn't quite faded, but it's starting to be replaced by pleasure and want.]

[She tilts her head a little, to make it easier for him to kiss her chest, and lets her fingers explore him - the scars, yes, but the lines of his body too, the edges of muscle and the smooth curve of his shoulder. He isn't the man of her dreams, not by a long shot, but he's passing fair, and she likes him, and there's a sense of anticipation in every touch.]

[When she draws back this time, it's to pull off her own top, her eyes on him, gauging his reaction. She wants to do this herself, wants to see how a man looks when she undresses for him. There's something of power in it, and more of curiosity. There's also an unfamiliar twinge of shyness, as the cool air brushes her pert breasts, as she bares herself to him. She's always liked and trusted her own body, and rarely been in doubt of it - but then, nobody else has ever been the judge of it. She's surprised to find that she's nervous, that part of her is afraid not to be to his liking.]

[Remus makes a soft noise in kind, finding that he likes the way her fingers graze over the lines of his body, and not just on his scars. It makes him feel...human. Not like he's other. And her skin, meanwhile, feels exceedingly nice under his skin. Supple, and warm.

He draws away to let her disrobe and can't help that his cheeks grow warm at the sight of her breasts. He's far from disappointed; she's got a beautiful body, strong and powerful. His fair lashes flutter as he looks at her almost reverently.]

You're—you're beautiful.

[His hand settles on her waist, and skims with growing boldness up her ribcage. His breathing is shallow, like he doesn't want to make too much noise and miss hearing anything.]

[She lets out a little huff that might be a laugh, her expression warm, that wave of nervousness passing.]

[Drily:] So I have been told.

[But it means more than it has in the past, given the situation. It isn't a well-mannered comment or even a lecherous one, isn't said in a manner that suggests beauty is all she is and all she should aspire to be; it's simply a compliment, without any attachments or caveats. She likes that.]

[She smiles, and after a split second's thought, leans in to kiss him on the mouth, one strong hand coming up to tangle in his hair. The other hand continues to explore him, running down his chest and flattening for a moment against his belly.]

Sorry. I just—it's true.

[He gives her a little grin, which is immediately covered by Eowyn's mouth. Remus lets his eyes shut, letting himself sink into her, the planes of his stomach twitching under her hand, while his hand on her ribcage slides up to cup her breast gently. He knows from his first encounter with Ember that soft touches are best at first, and then to build from there.

Her fingers in his hair are so unbelievably nice; they tickle that docile-wolf part of his brain that craves pets and soft touches, and he lets out a pleased little whimper, his thumb grazing across her nipple experimentally.]

[She's never had a man's hand there before - or, really, any touch but her own. Arching up against his palm, she lets out a trembling little sigh into his mouth, her eyes fluttering shut and her fingers tightening briefly against his scalp.]

[She pulls back from her exploring just enough to wrap her fingers around his free wrist, and firmly guides that hand onto her other breast. Once she's sure she's made her wants known, she lets her own hand drop back to his hip, tracing gentle patterns over his skin.]

[It feels good, better than her own hands ever have. She wonders, with a little smile, whether the same will be true elsewhere, and whether she'll have the chance to find out - whether he can be brought to use his hands there, and not just his cock. She squirms a little at the thought, well aware now of that heat between her legs, her nervousness gone in favour of anticipation. Not impatient anticipation, though. They have, she reminds herself deliciously, as long as they like.]

[Her reactions are telling him quite clearly that that was a good choice he made; he doesn't resist when she pulls his other hand up to join its fellow; his thumbs roll over both her nipples, bringing them to stiff peaks, and then pinch gently, building up a little more intensity as he goes.

Remus moans softly against Éowyn's lips, squirming a little against her hand on his hip. Presently, he moves his lips down to her jaw, and then her neck, leaving a trail of warm kisses down to her clavicles, intent on replacing one of his hands with his mouth. He's learned a thing or two from his first time, and he wants Éowyn's first time to be good, as good as he can make it.]

[She echoes his moan, tipping her head back as he kisses her, her fingers running through his hair. For a moment, she moves her other hand from his hip, so she can pull her own long hair back out of the way. Then it comes back to rest against the small of his back, and she draws him in a little closer, so she's almost sitting on his lap.]

[Her skin feels warm, but there's gooseflesh prickling up her bare arms. Her heartbeat seems louder, her skin more sensitive to every caress and kiss.]

[Her voice is low, husky, without any attempt to make it so.] I want you.

[The sight of her moving her hair back and out of the way is nearly mesmerizing; Remus could get lost in that vision if she didn't pull him in closer and remind him of the task at hand. He mouths over the swell of one breast, relishing the supple warmth of her skin, and then closes his mouth around her nipple, letting the flat of his tongue lap over the tight bud of it, slow and smooth as silk.

When she says that, her voice so very alluring, Remus merely squeezes his eyes shut and moans around her nipple in response.]

[That feels unlike anything she's ever felt before, the vibrations of his mouth against her skin, his breath against her hardened nipple. She lets out a little moan of her own, and, deciding to heed her own advice to be bold, slides her hand down from his hip, down between them, to press the flat of her palm against the bulge in his pants. She's not sure if she's doing this right, but she's at least going to do it. If it's wrong, she's sure he'll let her know.]

[Remus is so caught up in her, in trying to please her the way he thinks she deserves, that he barely notices her hand moving until he's hit with that marvelous pressure of her hand pressing against his cock through his breeches. He jerks, groaning, and brushes her nipple with his teeth by accident, which has him pulling back to huff out a few shaky breaths against her damp skin.]

S-ssorry. Didn't mean to...bite you.

[She laughs, surprising herself with it, and shakes her head. Taking advantage of his pulling away, she ducks in closer to kiss the join of his neck and shoulder.]

[Against his ear:] I am not so fragile. Fear not.

[As if to prove it, she gives him a firmer squeeze, and scrapes her own teeth lightly over the lobe of his ear.]

[It's a relief, Remus thinks, that he didn't just commit some horrible faux pas. As new as he still is to this, it wouldn't surprise him if he'd fucked it up from the word go. He huffs out a warm breath of laughter.]

Right. Right—ah.

[Christ, her hand feels so good, especially in combination with her teeth on his earlobe, and it only spurs him to go right back to work, resuming his previous occupation with renewed vigor. He can feel the heat creeping up his neck, but he pays it no mind in favor of letting his tongue roll over her nipple once more. And this time, in a fit of bravery, he lets his teeth scrape over her on purpose, hoping to draw a moan out of her instead of a laugh this time.]

[It's not exactly a moan, but she does let out a guttural kind of sound in her throat, biting her lip. There's a roughness to it that's contrasted delightfully with the care and gentleness of his other touches, and she does wonder, in the back of her mind, whether that roughness could be brought out a little more, another time.]

[But there's a sweetness, too, to the cautious way they're both moving, getting used to one another. This is perfect, she thinks. If she is to lose her maidenhead, this is how she would wish it to be.]

[She grinds the heel of her hand slowly over his crotch, twice more, and then takes both hands away to fumble with the fastenings of his breeches. There's something to be said for slow and steady, but there's also something to be said for skin on skin, for pushing her callused hand under his waistband and feeling the heat of him, the way his skin shifts under her touch.]

[That's just fine by him; that sound she makes is almost better, in a way, appeals to the wilder part of him in a way he can't really describe. It certainly meshes well with the way she's pressing her hand into his crotch, which has him letting out a soft whimpering sound in his throat in turn. He gives her nipple one last warm stroke of his tongue before pulling away to make it easier for her to get at his laces, and—]

Holy hell, Éowyn.

[His head rolls back onto his shoulders when her bare hand makes contact with his cock, and he twitches in her palm, his hips bucking once before he stays them.]

[She's seen penises before, of course, but this is the first time she's touched one, certainly the first time she's really concentrated on one. Her free hand traces up his spine, onto his shoulder; under his breeches, she wraps her fingers around his cock, exploring the skin, her thumb tracing around the groove of his foreskin, then up over the tip. It feels different to what she expected, not just hard but soft as well, skin shifting when she moves her hand, like silk over steel.]

[Smiling down at him, she pushes his shoulder gently. Lying down seems like a good idea, right about now. She's feeling trembly and unsteady, and from the look on his face and the sound of his voice, she's sure he's not much better off.]

[Despite how lightheaded she feels, or perhaps because of it, she's gaining confidence. What she's doing is clearly working, after all. She hasn't embarrassed herself, or him, and honestly there's a rush of power in seeing him react.]

[Low, against his ear again] Tell me how it feels?

[He falls backward with no resistance, wouldn't resist even if he could, because her hand exploring his cock is about the only thing he can focus on right now. Remus shudders at the way her thumb traces over that ridge under the head of his cock, head pressing back into the pillow. He'd normally be far too shy to talk about something like this out loud...but her hand and her warmth and the low tone of her voice against his ear is encouragement enough to be bold.]

It feels...incredible, Gods, please, d-don't stop.

[He's completely forgotten about the contest, truth be told. It's the furthest thing from his mind right now.]

[Éowyn stretches herself out against him, hooking one muscular thigh around his hip, and kisses him again, long and slow, her hand still moving. It traces down the underside of his cock, her thumb marking the vein that runs there, and then she shifts a little, moves her hand around so her fingertips can run through the coarse hair, over the solid weight of his balls.]

[Smiling, she pulls back again, her face hovering an inch or so over his as her other hand goes to pull his breeches properly out of the way.]

I don't mean to.

[To illustrate that, she gives him a firm squeeze, and then goes back to her explorations, her fingers light on the sensitive skin.]

[For a second, Remus finds himself staring into Éowyn's eyes with something like wonder, because he never noticed what a truly remarkable shade of steely grey they are before, and it's nothing short of mesmerizing. He lifts his hips obligingly so she can get his pants out of the way, and then his trance is broken when he feels that squeeze. She's doing such an effective job at exploring all his sensitive parts, and Remus is beginning to feel like he ought to act in kind. So as she touches him, one of his hands finds her hip and begins to squirm down the flat of her belly and into her pants, knowing now the correct way to touch a woman there thanks to Ember.

His fingers glide through the thatch of her beneath her breeches and he lets himself cup her cunt before two fingers delve between her lips to seek out the wet warmth waiting in between.]

[His hand is smoother than hers, gentle, warm. Éowyn moans, shaky and breathy, and her fingers tighten instinctively around him. She was right, she's happy to discover: it does feel good to have someone else's hand here in place of her own.]

[When he pushes his fingers inside her, that wins another little gasp, and muscles she's only half-aware of tighten, her wet cunt clenching around his hand. She's ready, more than ready, to be touched and filled; she's wet enough that it runs down his hand, wanton pleasure prickling up her spine and into every limb.]

[With her free hand, she reaches down to undo her own breeches, wanting to close that last space between them. Wanting, she realises with a wry twist of self-consciousness, to fuck.]

[This place really has got to her, hasn't it?]

[Remus is surprised and pleased to feel her tightening around his fingers so responsively; he grunts softly, feeling her wetness run down the heel of his hand and onto his wrist. Merlin's beard, women are incredible. He strokes her, knowing it would all too easy to get lost in this, in feeling the inside of her, warm and strong, around his fingers. But her movement brings him back to reality, and he presses a kiss to her sternum as she shifts to push down her own breeches, anticipating all too well the next step.

Reluctantly, he pulls his fingers out of her and spans his hands over both her hips.]

—want you so badly.

[This he murmurs against her shoulder. Is he drunk? He feels drunk.]

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