Unforgotten

I loosen his busy fingers from my body and tell him to go at it a little slower. I’m not at risk to reach my climax as rashly as he did, but even my stamina and endurance are limited. And the times in which I only needed a short rest to recover again, like Éomer a few moments ago, are long gone. Maybe it appears that I envy him for that; for his youth and his freshness. I want him to believe this, if it helps him to feel more comfortable, but it isn’t the truth. When I was his age, I could not imagine either that later, it would get even better. But moments like these are evidence to me, that things indeed exist that are even more invaluable than the seemingly never exhausted verve and the everblooming energy of the younger ones. Moments, in which you cling to me in search for hold and support and gratefully smother the noises of your release on my shoulder. Moments, in which you are younger than me and I am older than you, and together we are just perfect.

My breathing turned heavy now, too, and I look down on him, into his attractive face with those sensual lips and big eyes, framed by light curls and tresses, and I wonder just how many hearts orls rls and women he has broken already. And perhaps will break in the future. Girls and women, because, in my judgement, he never before went all the way with another male. Though he’s absolutely silent about this, his eyes tell more than a thousand words ever could. So deep and gleamy, and even though the room is only weakly illumin by by soft candlelight, I can very clearly see the desire and the excitement in his eyes, and also a little fear. I cannot suppress a light smile. Oh, he has grown tall and broad and proud, through and through a man and a warrior of Rohan, but on closer examination, there is also a little something of the inexperienced, agitated youth left inside of him who I had been doting on once. He hides him well, you have to give him credit for that. But you don’t fool me so easily, Éomer...

Despite of the un in in his facial expression my left hand glides down again, back to the hollow of his right knee. Simultaneously, I plunge into another kiss, pull him along with me, deeper into the passion, and at first it seems to work... He closes his eyes and at least tries to let himself go. A few seconds ago I cursed all women who found their ways into his bed and his arms, but now I suddenly would like to thank each and every single one of them for what they taught him. Though he faces certain practices with quite some fear and insecurity... He kisses more than well. In fact I wouldn’t know of another one whose kisses are as sensual as his, filled with so much devotion and a fire that seems to pass from his lips to mine, and from there spreads all the way into my belly and even deeper down. The flames inside of me blaze hotter and hotter, and finally my grip around the back of his knee gets firmer, but before I can attempt to open him for me, just a little further, his mouth abruptly gets hard and rejecting. I feel how his whole body tenses, and when I open my eyes again und look deep into his, I suddenly realize that he won’t be able to go through with this. Not tonight.

It doesn’t matter. That means, of course I would have loved to explore his body in an even more intimate way and declare it my territory... and when the tenderness of his lips and the hollows of his knees and this little spot right behind his ear only roughly indicates how soft he will feel inside... then it actually does matter a bit that he is so reluctant. But I wasn’t different in the beginning, all those years ago when I was in a similar situation like Éomer is now. I wasn’t different at all. I don’t enjoy reminiscing about the day I was taken by another for the firsme. me. I probably just tried to forget about it quite successfully, but I do remember enough details to know that I don’t want to help Éomer to a similar experience. He shall feel comfortable with me and I want him to experience pleasure, no frustration and no feeling of humiliation, and above all, no pain. I don’t want him to grit his teeth and just hold still until I’m done... Though I doubt he would ever do that, anyway.

So I let go of his knee again. He pulls his leg back into its original position, but only hesitatingly, as if he was concerned to annoy me with his actions and cause me to leave. But the expression in his eyes tells that his lingering uncertainty about my further plans for our night together is much stronger than his worry to be left by me this instant. I tax my brain, but I just can’t think of anything to tell him to ease his obvious concerns and his disomfort. At least I can’t think of anything that wouldn’t make me feel stupid when I say it. Inexperienced or not, this is no naive maiden underneath me who wants to hear sweet chatter and flowery, meaningless oaths.

In order to calm him at least a little bit, I manoeuvre myself to another, less threatening position. Now, my knees are no longer between his own, but left and right from his closed legs. He still wraps himself in silence, but his large and strong hands come to rest on my tense thighs while I, over him, move a little forward to find a more suitable position and then guide my right hand through my own spread legs, down until I can close it around him cautiously. But even as I massage him gently and rub even more liquid into the already very oily skin of his hard shaft, he doesn’t seem to realize what I have in mind.

When I grip his wonderfully solid erection a little harder, he fractionally raises his head and his gaze, from lust-clouded, half-closed eyes, shifts deeper, between our heated bodies. Again I catch myself smiling at him. His curiousity and unselfconsciousness touch me in a weird way, and at the same time it also feeds my own desire, and I feel that I can’t wait any longer. And that he can’t wait any longer, either. That we *both* can’t wait any longer. And suddenly, it really doesn’t matter to me exacexactly it will happen. I only want to become one with him. Right here, right now. And no matter how.