An Artless Decadence

A Circle of Light

In theory she knew what men and women do when they share a bed. And she had seen what young men sometimes do when they think they are alone together. As for herself, she had fought and ridden more than she had kissed. She had killed more than she had loved. Surely loving would be easier. She pulled her cloak around her and stepped back a bit, leaving the men to their embrace.

"Shall we go inside?" She crossed the threshold into the inner chamber and did not look to see if they followed.

Surely loving woul eas easier. But still she felt as if she were on the edge of becoming someone who was not Éowyn. She took off her cloak and waited for them within the brazier's circle of light. Elessar came in, and then Faramir who paused to shut out the night air.

Elessar shed his tunic and came to her. For a moment she thought that much about him had changed since he became Elessar, but then his mouth was on hers and his fingers had somehow found her nipple through her gown. Then he was neither King nor Ranger, but simply breath and heat and the scrape of teeth against her neck. And Faramir was there, undoing the lacings of her gown. Gondorian gowns seemed more complicated than armor at times. She had been at the mercy of chambermaids for weeks.

"I... you must take care with my arm, Faramir." Elessar drew back and let Faramir work on her gown. Together the men helped her out of layers of velvet and silk, but carefully, and with a certain reverence for her injury.

"Éowyn." Someone said that, and someone's arms were around her, on her breasts and on the curve of her hips. She didn't have to distinguish them. She could, for a moment let her head fall back on... yes... on Elessar's shoulder. She could sway as he pressed against her. She could watch Faramir through her lashes as he stripped off his tunic and shirt, then listen to the catch in her own breathing when his mouth found her breast. His tongue flicked over her nipple until it stiffened, then he sucked at it. Faramir, sweet Faramir was less gentle than she had imagined. It felt like he was biting her, but she had no desire to push him away. She writhed, and Elessar was hard against her back.

There was a hand on her thigh, Elessar's hand, and his boot between her feet unbalanced her. But she was caught between them and could not fall. It was not like falling. She shifted her foot and found herself half-straddling his knee. His hand was between her thighs then, another strangeness, and strange that his fingers were so wet from her.

His fingers had found that point that shot pleasure through her and she panted and bucked against him. And Elessar, Elessar was less gentle than she had imagined. Faramir released his hold on her breasts and she could see him through her lashes. His face was strange, intense, but his kiss was Faramir's kiss. He kissed her and stroked her side. His fingers found Elessar's and then moved over them, beyond them. She moaned as he worked his fingers into her.

She shook off his kiss, she had to breathe, but breathing did not clear her head. It did not prevent her from convulsing around Faramir's fingers. She was not falling. She was melting. Her muscles would tighten and turn to water and she would flow through their hands until nothing of Éowyn remained.

"Ah, Éowyn. Sweeting." It was Faramir's voice by her ear. Éowyn breathed, and breathing helped her find herself again. She could see that he was smiling. "Good, hm?" She couldn't quite laugh just then.

"Yes, Faramir. Yes."

Both their hands steadied her. She left off leaning against them. Elessar kissed her ear and stroked her back as if she was a skittish foal, then left her with Faramir. He sat on the divan to take off his boots and watched them together.

"The two of you fit together very nicely. I think there should be a statue made of you -- just as you are now."

"Would you have us in your garden, Elessar?" Éowyn asked.

"I would like that. I could look at you every day." Elessar took off his shirt.

"You don't have a garden." Faramir was not exactly smiling. He brought Éowyn over to the divan. Éowyn sat by Elessar, and Faramir arranged himself at their feet.

"I don't?" Elessar put his arm around Éowyn.

"No. Not within the city walls. And in any case I do not think I would like to be a statue."

"No? Not even if you could hold your fair lady?"

Faramir put his hands on Elessar's knees and slowly slid them up Elessar's thighs.

"I have not Thingol's patience. And even if I were cold marble I would still long for the touch of skin."

Elessar laughed at that. Faramir found the lacings of Elessar's trousers and began to undo them. Elessar raised his hips and let Faramir tug the trousers down and off. He was ruddy and hard, and Éowyn remembered feeling him against her back. Faramir took Elessar's heavy cock between his hands. Éowyn watched him, quietly, as if she were lurking in her uncle's stable again. Elessar touched her neck. His fingers along the line of her chin made her feel catlike and sensual. Éowyn smiled down at Faramir, then was distracted by Elessar's gaze and the teasing way he traced her lips. When sheked ked down again Faramir had taken Elessar's cock into his mouth.

Éowyn thought that she should be jealous. Faramir was eager, hungry. He was not like the boys she'd watched, not three-quarters unwilling nor coddled by promises. He wanted Elessar, loved him. She sought for a shadow of jealousy within herself, but she could see the sheen of wetness on Elessar's cock and his mouth around it. Faramir's hair fell in front of his eyes as his head bobbed. Elessar's breath caught, and hers, too, and he tightened his arm around her. Where jealousy should have been, she could find only an inner heat.

Elessar ran his fingers through Faramir's hair, and then Éowyn felt she did not want to simply sit and watch him. She slid from the divan and knelt with Faramir. He turned to her, his face flushed, carrying Elessar's scent. He kissed her, not deeply but teasing, sucking her lower lip between his and biting it softly. Then he untangled himself from Elessar's legs and gave his place to her.

Éowyn touched Elessar's cock, felt the moisture and heat of it set in its nest of coarse hair. A corner of his discarded shirt lay across his thigh, pale rose, darker than his thigh, but not so dark as his weathered arms. He reached for her, held her head, his fingers in her loosened braids. She lowered her face and ted hed his cock with her lips. And Faramir was with her, his hands on her shoulders, her back, and Elessar was murmuring something she could not hear. She held him and ran her tongue along the length of his shaft, then the shaft along the length of her tongue and into the back of her mouth.

There seemed to be not so much pleasure in it, not so much as she'd seen in Faramir's strange, soft expression. She did as he'd done and sought to take the length of it into her mouth and stroke as he had. But she felt half unwilling, and suddenly thought that Elessar's hands might trap her, that his cock could choke her. Faramir would hold her so that she could not breathe or escape.

But they would not. They would not hurt her. Even when Aragorn hurt her, he had not done so willingly. Even when she had been half-mad, she'd known that. She clutched Elessar's thigh and moaned. Elessar echoed her and thrust into her mouth. His hands were in her hair but gently. She did not want to shy, did not want to stop. She felt his legs tensing, his hips rocking, but gently. She heard her name in his exhaled breath.

And Faramir was there, his rough palm against her nipples. He touched her hair and lips and then reached beneath to cup Elessar's dusky soft sac. Elessar hummed in approval. At the top of a slow stroke Éowyn left his cock and turned her attention to Faramir's hand. She dipped to flick her tongue across the tip of his thumb, then trailed her lips and tongue across the scant fur of Elessar's gently wrinkled skin. His musk would not let her think. Faramir wrapped an arm around her, buried his mouth in her hair. With all the restraint of a young calf she sucked at heel of his palm and mouthed Elessar until he chuffed. She thought she felt Faramir trembling, but it might have been her. It could have Elessar as he hooked one foot behind her knee.

Elessar drew away from them at last and rose, looking for something. He was flushed and impatient. He found his cloak and spread it over the rug, gesturing to them to come. She went to him, and Faramir with her. They laid her down with her head in Faramir's lap. Elessar knelt over her, kissing her breasts and stomach, the light brush of his beard and lips and tongue made her want to rise to meet him. He pushed her legs apart and kissed her thighs, finding his way to where they were slick. And she thought that he would not go further. She thought surely he would stop, until his mouth covered her and held there and she was not pushing him away, but rather pushing against him, arching with pleasure.

She opened her eyes and Faramir was bent over her. For once she could not read his expression. His lips formed her name, but too quietly for her to hear. She could feel Elessar parting her labia, and then his fingers inside her. She cried out. His mouth was still on her, through fur and folds he'd found a point of tenderness and held to it, though she bucked against him.

She opened her eyes, and Faramir was there. "Éowyn," he whispered, "Éowyn." She could hear him, could see his dear face but could not answer. She arched and shook on Elessar's fingers, her head in Faramir's lap. She cried out, her voice loud in the tower room. Faramir caught her hand and she held to him until she felt she could breathe again.

She found his thigh then, and followed it to where his erection lay still hidden. She fumbled at his lacings one-handed until he undid them. He pulled his cock free and shifted so that she could reach him. He was not as erect as Elessar had been. His head was half hidden within its outer sheath, but he responded to the touch of her hand, and more as she explored him with her mouth.

Elessar was intent on stretching her open with his fingers. She wanted that, even when it edged close to pain. She felt wet; felt that she was flooding him. He seemed to savor the taste of her. Over all else that was the thing that seemed the most intimate. His eagerness to taste her juices made her flush and feel vaguely guilty. She thought that she should stop him, but it wasn't a thought she could hold to when his lips and tongue and teeth made her cry out.

And Faramir was with her, growing harder in her hand and mouth. He bent over hed brd brushed her hair from her face. She felt Elessar withdrawing his fingers, kissing her more gently, and as she looked down she saw him sitting up on his heels. It was almost a relief. She closed her eyes again and teased Faramir lazily, drifting, as if her head was hazy with wine.

"Sweeting." Faramir's hand was on her face, and he was looking at her intently. And Elessar was there, over her, kissing her breast.

"Éowyn," and that was Elessar. "I would have you." He touched her stomach, trailed fingers down.

It seemed almost a question, but she was distracted by the touch of his thigh against hers. She purred in response.

"It may hurt, Éowyn," whispered Faramir. She looked at him without understanding. "You need not, tonight... if you do not wish it." She had not seen that expression since... since the bitter days they'd spent together, waiting, when his eyes had turned ever eastward. Now he was worried for her, for such a simple thing. The realization pierced her. She wondered if she would ever become accustomed to such tenderness.

"Faramir," she whispered, Faramir, whose name was an endearment. "All is well."

Elessar went to him then, and kissed him, and bore him down until they were all lying together within the brazier's circle of light. Éowyn wondered if she would ever see the White Tower without thinking of this room, this night. Elessar moved over her, lifting her legs to wrap them around his waist. She wanted, wanted to feel his cock against her, and it was there, smooth against her wetness, somehow more right than his fingers had been. Somehow more gentle.

She clasped Faramir's hand and turned her head to kiss him. Elessar pressed into her slowly. She was tight around him, too tight, as if part of her body had not yet realized her need. He was cautious, slow, but his hips rolled with urgent little strokes, as if his restraint had worn thin. His eyes were closed, his teeth clenched. She lifted her hips to meet him, and he slid deeper into her as if digging into moist earth. There was pain then, enough to make her gasp, but she welcomed it. She cried out, and there was less pain in her cry than need.

When she felt there would be no end to his slow slide of his cock into her, he was there, his hips against her thighs. And when she felt that he could go no further, he rolled his hips and struck a narrow vein of sharp-edged pleasure. She could not keep herself from arching to meet him. She shuddered as he withdrew, moaned low as he thrust again. He voice rumbled under hers as he moved inside her, wordless and low as the stones of the mountains murmuring among themselves. And Éowyn, Éowyn was sinking, no longer high in the tower but sinking into the earth beneath his weight. She held to Faramir's hand, clung tightly. She would not go without him.

Elessar lowered himself onto her, heavy against her and opening her mouth with his. Her scent was there in his beard. He kissed her deeply and she felt no need for air, for Faramir's breath was in her ear, breathing her name. She hummed low into Elessar's kiss, thrummed beneath the rhythm of his thrusts. Elessar moved to kiss her chin, and further down to find the hollow of her neck. She brought Faramir's hand to her lips, seeking the sweetness of his roughened fingertips. He was watching her, his eyes catching the light of the brazier. He kissed the fingers that held his trapped. As her eyes grew heavy again she saw him reach for Elessar, tracing the hard curve of his arm to his shoulder. She watched until Elessar shifted his hips and thrust her vision into sparks and darkness.

And then Elessar was breaking his rhythm into short hungry pulses. He grunted and withdrew, clasping her and hissing into her neck. "I must stop before I lose myself," he said, and the rough edge of his voice made her ache. She didn't want him to stop, didn't want to hear his voice untuned. And Faramir was there, his hands in Elessar's hair, on his shoulders and tugging him to lie between them. He kissed Elessar's neck, feverish and elated, tangled himself around him.

"Ah, leave off, Faramir," Elessar voice was light again. "Your lady needs you now." But he held Faramir for a long moment; smoothing his hands down Faramir's back to the waistband of his loosened trousers. "And... you are overdressed."

Éowyn quelled the urge to laugh, but Faramir did not seem vexed. He got up and sat on the divan to unlace his boots. Éowyn rolled herself up, her muscles protesting, and went to help him pull them off. The twinge deep within her changed and grew as Faramir shed his trousers. He was long-limbed and golden as a cat in the firelight.

He pulled her into his lap to straddle his legs, and before she was fully aware of his intentions his hands were hard on her hips, lifting her a little, and his cock was against her. She lifted herself more; he shifted under her and guided her down. And then he was inside her, and it was hard for Éowyn to imagine him being anywhere else. Faramir's hands on her waist belonged there, and hers belonged on his shoulders. He moved and she moved with him, and then they were still for a moment, clinging to each other but still, as if in the quiet of that moment they could sense every pleasure, every hour together that lay before them.

The moment dissipated and she pulled against him, pulled until he thrust deeper into her. And then Éowyn gasped and clenched as she was inundated with pleasure, and Faramir held her, encouraging her to roll rhythmically against him. Her head lolled back and Elessar was there with his hand behind her neck. He released her hair from the remnants of her braids and it tumbled down her back to trail across Faramir's hands. She released her hold on Faramir and let herself fall back against Elessar. He held her and she looked up at him.

"Éowyn?" Faramir was panting. "Are you well?"

"I am slain."

Elessar laughed at that. "Shall I carry you from the battlefield, my Lady."

"No, my Lord. You may leave me here."

"Your skin is flushed." Elessar balanced her on one arm, and cupped her breast. "Perhaps you are only wounded." He rolled a nipple between his fingers. She smiled and tried not to move, though he sent heat straight to her belly.

Faramir trailed fingers down her sch tch to find damp fur and the heat of her lips beneath. He pinched too, but gently, and she gasped. "Yes, she lives."

Elessar caught her under her arms and pulled her from Faramir's lap. "No, my Lord. Do not trouble yourself," she complained.

He laid her on the cloak again. Faramir followed her down and was deep inside her again before she could think to miss him. She held his face, the scruff of beard and his soft neck, and he drove into her with a rhythm that grew steadily more insistent, less careful, as if realizing at last that she was not made of porcelain. She wrapped her legs around him, her muscles tight, her hips hard against his. She cried out and dug her fingers into his arms. He echoed her, and then louder. He stopped his thrusting and held, trembling. She thought she felt him pulsing within her. She clenched as if to hold that, could feel nothing else for a long moment, could not breathe. And when ast ast he relaxed she could open her eyes and see him, his face soft and unfocused, panting. She thought then that she would lose herself in loving him, and she clenched around him again, wanting to be lost. He held steady, tkisskissed her as her orgasm passed, relaxed with her until they lay tangled together, limp and breathless.

"If you won't be a sculpture, I will have to hold you in my memory like this." And that was Elessar, though Éowyn could not manage to turn her heo seo see him.

Faramir exhaled a weak laugh. He heaved himself up and lay down by Éowyn. She curled on her side and listened as his breathing slowed. When she opened her eyes, Elessar had encircled Faramir in his arms. His hand roamed over Faramir's chest and down his side. She hoped that she was not dreaming, for she didn't want to wake and have this image slip away as her dreams often did.

Elessar pushed Faramir's hair aside and kissed his neck. She thought she saw him bite, but Faramir, muzzy and boneless, did not wince. Instead he reached back and drew Elessar in, turned his neck to kiss him. Elessar murmured to him. His voice, which had ever made Éowyn itchy with desire, could not stir her from her contentment, but Faramir sighed and moved under his caress. Faramir reached to touch Elessar's flank where he lay behind him, and Elessar hummed his approval. Éowyn closed her eyes for a moment and listened to their wordless conversation, the soft sound of hands skittering across warm skin.

Then Faramir gasped and clutched her hand and she startled, but it seemed she had only been drowsing for a moment. Faramir was flushed, half on his side. Elessar was holding him, his murmurs more urgent than before. Éowyn sat up and knelt over Faramir to kiss his mouth. Elessar half straddled him and pushed against him, and when he gripped Faramir's hip there was a gleam of oil on his fingers. It was something Éowyn had only overheard in the bawdiest of the women's jokes, but she could find nothing bawdy in the way they came together. Faramir panted. His cock stirred restlessly but did not fully wake from its slumber. Elessar looked up at her, his eyes half-lidded, his face tight with desire. He twisted, pushed, and Faramir groaned.

Faramir reached for Éowyn and she lay down again, close along the length of his body. She kissed his face and felt his breath quick and ragged across her cheek. He rocked -- Elessar rocked him. He trembled. She laid her hand on Elessar's arm and felt it tighten with each stroke. Then Elessar stopped and released his hold. He reached to brush Faramir's hair back from his face.

"Would you get on hands and knees for me, Faramir?" he asked softly. Faramir nodded and rolled up. He knelt over Éowyn, looking down at her with his hands on either side of her shoulders.

"Good?" she asked him.

"Yes, Éowyn." A part of her unwound when she saw him smiling. "Yes."

And Elessar was there. Faramir gasped a little at his touch, and more when Elessar entered him. It surprised Éowyn that she should feel desire again, but seeing Faramir flushed and panting made her heart race. He was beautiful. She touched his face and he turned to suck on her fingers. But soon his eyes closed and he seemed far away, absorbed into Elessar's incing,ing, insistent passion. Faramir cried out, and it was almost like despair, and Elessar echoed him, low under his voice like stones rumbling.

Faramir half-collapsed on Éowyn then. She wrapped her arms around him and stroked his hair. Behind him she could see Elessar sitting on his feet, regaining his breath. He stroked Faramir's flank. "Are you well, Faramir?"

Faramir nodded against Éowyn's breast. "Yes, Elessar. I am."

Elessar rose and left them in search of a washbasin. Faramir did not seem incd tod to move while he was gone, though Éowyn could see that his eyes were open. When Elessar returned he brought the forgotten basket and sat by them.

"Stir yourself, Faramir. There are cakes to be eaten." He tugged at Faramir and Éowyn extracted herself from his limp weight.

The basket's contents had cooled, but still smelled wonderfully of butter and spice. Éowyn pulled back the cloth and she and Elessar each took a cake. The scent made her suddenly hungry, and the cake was light and sweet. It struck her that she would remember this as much as anything that would happen thisht; ht; her King sitting naked and unconcerned on the rug, consuming a cake much too quickly to taste it.

"I think I share Faramir's taste in pastries, Elessar. Are they to your liking?" She grinned at him.

He stopped and frowned. "I don't know. I will have to try another." He took a second cake and held it. "I will have to unlearn some habits from my years in the wilderness."

Éowyn laughed. "Poor Inzil." She pulled at Faramir's ear. "You need not trouble yourself, Faramir. Go to sleep. Elessar and I will eat all the cakes ourselves." Faramir protested, and finally sat up, yawning. Éowyn gave him a cake.

"We should go down soon," said Elessar. "The household will not rest until I've retired."

"Yes, and I am to leave here tomorrow. Eomer will need me at Edoras for a time."

"I will miss you," said Faramir.

"And I you. I will not be gone for long, not even a full season."

"I shall grieve and wither away."

"You will not." Éowyn smiled broadly.

"Then... I shall follow my Lord's example and wait for you with unending patience." Faramir lay down again, resting his head on Elessar's knee.

Elessar put his hand on Faramir's head. "Do not tease, Faramir."

Their words reminded Éowyn of something that she had missed earlier, when she had been sunk so deep into her own concerns.

"Elessar?" He looked up but she paused long to think of what she wanted to ask. "You said that your heart had grown, but what of your lady? Do you not fear her displeasure?"

Elessar also paused long. "My lady," he said at last, and it seemed to Éowyn that he had grown very calm and thoughtful. "Lady Arwen has watched over me for many years, for many years before you were born, Éowyn. She knows my frailties, though she shares few of them. She has seen me both arrogant and uncertain. And many times she has barricaded me from despair. She knows my heart, the dark and light of it." He touched Faramir's hair. "No, no. I do not fear her displeasure."

"Nor shall I," Faramir said quietly. "She will be a good queen for us."

"I think I would have failed without the strength she gave me. At times I wonder if I could have endured as you both did, through neglect and darkness without a star to guide you."

Éowyn didn't want to cry then, not there within the brazier's circle of light. Not sitting naked with a half-eaten cake in her hand. Not with her beloved so near. But Elessar was watching her steadily, and her eyes were stinging. "I have many frailties," he said to her, "but I do number my love for you among them."

Éowyn shivered then, for the fire in the brazier was dying and the night air was creeping in. Elessar found her cloak and spread it over her shoulders. Faramir got up to find her gown and stockings. Together they dressed and made ready to descend the long stairway, to leave the White Tower behind for a while.

The End