kingdomcomes | MINGLE: THE SNOW QUEEN

[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.]

[If he's drunk, then she must be too. She's light-headed and warm as if she'd drunk her fill of wine, the world pleasantly soft at the edges.]

[She presses a kiss to his temple, and kicks off her breeches, her hand still wrapped around him, moving gently up and down. Does this work, with her on top? She isn't sure, has only a rough idea of where this should go. But she likes the warmth of him under her, doesn't want to pull away and readjust.]

[She guides the tip of his cock between her thighs, and, with a breath caught in her throat and her lip caught in her teeth, she lowers herself slowly, so slowly, onto him, relishing in the unfamiliar stretch, the not-quite pain of a larger intrusion than she's ever had before.]

[It definitely works with her on top; Remus hasn't done it any other way, just yet, so he's fine with it going this way. He lets out a slow, shaky breath, watching her arrange herself and get settled before she guides him into her, and—

He sucks in a sharp breath as she sinks down onto his cock, pressing his head back against the headboard, his chest rising and falling rapidly a few times. Without really thinking about it, he lets one hand slide up beneath her arm to support her shoulder, pulling her down flush with him so he can kiss her. So he can ground himself in her lips.]

[She kisses back enthusiastically, her hands flattening against his chest, fingertips tracing one of his scars. For a moment, she stays just where she is, getting used to the feeling of him deep inside her, then she starts to move.]

[At first, it's just little movements, not lifting off him but just shifting her hips experimentally. Then, hesitantly at first but with growing confidence, she starts to ride him, her muscular thighs flexing, hands pressing against his chest, the bed creaking a little under them.]

[There are no words for how it feels. It's almost familiar, the mounting tension and want - she might be a virgin, but that doesn't mean she's never brought herself off - but more intense, more... whole. It seems to run through all of her, carried on her pounding heartbeat, responding to not just his cock in her, but his hands on her skin, his taste on her tongue, the warmth of him underneath her. No wonder, she thinks wryly, that it is improper for a lady to do this before she is married. Even the noblest woman could so easily be lost to the thunder of adrenaline and the rush of pleasure and the wonder of skin on skin. She could so easily be lost.]

[Remus has to concentrate so hard on her, on her fingertips, on her hair tickling at his skin, his fingertips curling against her skin, because once she starts moving, even just shifting her hips, it feels so overwhelmingly warm and tight and good that he's afraid he'll lose it embarrassingly quickly. He doesn't even care about losing; mainly, he just doesn't want to disappoint her her very first time. He resolves that if and when he does come, he'll endeavor to make sure she gets hers, too. It's important to him.]

You feel incredible.

[Éowyn groans, her fingers tightening for a moment against his chest as her cunt tightens around his cock, and nips at the side of his neck.]

You too. [She lets out a little huff of a laugh, pushing herself up off his chest, leaning up against his grip - it shifts his cock inside her, makes her gasp at the change in angle - and shakes her hair back out of her face. The flush of colour in her face is echoed in her breasts, pressed together by her arms and bouncing against each other every time she thrusts her hips down. She smiles at him, eyes heavy-lidded, and bites her lip.] Now... talk less.

[Fuck more.]

[Remus watches her straighten up, shifting atop him, the muscles of his stomach tensing and relaxing in quick succession. She makes for a mesmerizing sight, all flushed skin and muscles and delightfully pliant flesh; he has to remind himself not to stare only at her breasts. It wouldn't be gentlemanly, after all. He returns her smile, a little dazed, and takes ahold of her hips once more. It wouldn't be right to lay back and let her do all the work, after all.]

Yes, ma'am.

[And then he's quiet except for the occasional moan or sound of pleasure, slowly falling into rhythm with her, his hips rolling up to meet her downstroke with as much precision as an eighteen year old can manage.]

[That's new. The changed angle, his hips coming up to meet hers - she can feel that the thrusts are deeper now, filling her, pushing against the walls of her cunt, and how did she never know that it was so sensitive? Her fingers never went so deep, or pressed so delightfully against those nerves inside her. It aches, a little, and she's sure it'll ache more when she's done, but it feels better even than she imagined. Part of her had assumed that the joy of sex, if sex truly was joyful, must be in the context more than the act itself. Well, the context is sweet enough - he is a good man, one she likes, and it's certainly nice to look into his golden eyes and feel his skin under her hands - but the act is sweeter than she's ever found it.]

[She lets out another low groan, tipping her head back, her eyelids fluttering, and shifts her speed, fucking him faster and harder, her breath coming in gasps as though she were running. She's not ready to come, not just yet, but when every thrust sends another shivering, electric wave through her, to add to that mounting pleasure, she's not going to deny herself the faster, deeper fucking her body seems to have decided it wants.]

[As her breathing gets heavier and sweat starts to bead on her skin, she laughs again, looking down at him with bright eyes, as he presses against a spot she didn't know was there, makes her whole body clench in delightful want.]

Ai! Ai, incund behéfþ... Deeper, there. Ai! [Another choked laugh, her nails pressing into his skin.]

[The sight of Éowyn so clearly enjoying herself, those sounds she's making, and above all the sudden relentlessness of her movements, is both amazing and vaguely threatening, because try as he might, Remus is having a very difficult time keeping himself under control right now. He's putting up a valiant fight, but the way she looks atop him, the way she sounds, speaking some tongue he doesn't know, urging him on, it makes it hard to want to hold off for too long, either.

Remus's grip on her hips tightens, his fingertips pressing into her ass cheeks, pulling her down on him again and again, meeting her thrust for thrust. His own breathing has grown short and harsh, his skin flushed, even the bite of her nails managing to feel good somehow. He grits his teeth, determined to hold on as long as he possibly can, but the stuttering of his hips and the way his whole body is beginning to tense, stomach pulling taught, is a good sign that it's not going to be long until this contest is over.

[He can be rougher than he was being, or at least firmer. That's a good thing to know, Éowyn muses with the part of her brain that's still working, in case they should happen to do this again.]

[The rest of her is more taken with the moment - with the press of his fingers, the now-louder creaking of the bed, the smell of sweat and sex mingling between them both. She cries out again, this time without words, and bites down hard on her lip. She's not quite as close as he is - frankly, her body's still trying to figure out this whole orgasm thing, to an extent - but she's close, feels like she's riding full-pace towards the edge of a cliff, but one from which she might fly rather than falling.]

[She clenches around him, nails tracing lightly down his chest to his belly.]

Come for me. In me. [It's half-command and half-plea, because aside from anything else, if he does, then she can let go of that part of her mind still concerned with the contest and give in entirely to the moment.]

[She's sort of blowing his mind right now; Remus never in all his teenage fantasies thought he'd be able to be with a woman this...well, sexy is the only word for it. She's incredible to watch, and even more incredible to feel on and around him. Remus lets out a strangled groan, his nails biting into her skin without realizing now, and those words are all he needs from her.

He throws his head back, pulling her down firmly and keeping her there as his hips buck once, twice, and then he's over the edge, spilling into her even though part of his brain knows it's a very stupid idea, but he can't help it. She told him to, she asked him to come, and his body has its limits. He's trembling, shaking all over, dizzy and hot and completely overwhelmed by pleasure.]

[She doesn't know how she expected it to feel. In a way, it's a little underwhelming - less of an event than she'd expected, less tangible. But he's trembling, and the look on his face is one of sheer bliss, and it's heady to know she's the cause of it.]

[Smiling, still panting, she squeezes her cunt around his softening length and kisses his jaw.]

I win.

[But she's not done yet. That raw need, that tight pleasure in the pit of her belly, is still there, still calling out for satisfaction. She tries, with limited success, to thrust against him again.]

MINGLE: THE SNOW QUEEN

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