Unforgotten

We have been discussing for quite a while now, or maybe it only feels like it, but I am paying attention only half-heartedly. Usually I can hardly curb myself during conversations like these, but this very moment it is you who is doing all the talking. It seems to me that your qualified speech lasts forever, and if you were not the one you are and if I were not thinking of quite different things than warfare, I would have cut you off long ago.

“For example here,” Éomer says insistently and points a finger to a specific spot on the huge map. His hands captivate me, just like his confident voice captivates me when he states his opinions and views. Like the way his blond strands hang wildly into his face when he tilts his head to look on the map. Just like everything about him captivates me somehow.

“Or there as well,” his firm voice pulls me out of my longing reverie. In order to show the second spot to me, he has to bend forward over the table a bit, and I find myself shifting my gaze not after his finger, but over the curve of his backside that is very nicely accentuated due to his present position. I cock an eyebrow. Oh yes, very nice indeed.

“*Boromir*,” he dispraisingly snarls at me when he notices that I am not even listening to him, and I tear my gaze as quickly as possible from his buttocks in order to shift it back to the map again. But Éomer straightens up swiftly und steps between me and the table, obstructing my view on the huge map.

“Why are you doing this?“ I ask, and I am still capable to develop a quiet and composed voice. I can still pretend that nothing has happened.

“That is what I’m asking *you*,” he replies sharply, but also with a somewhat impure undertone in his voice that hasn’t been there before. Apart from the crackling of the fire it is totally silent, and I seize the opportunity to try to read your eyes. And I see that you try the same with me. Maybe, after all, I can’t pretend that nothing has happened. Maybe I don’t want to anymore.

He returns my deep, explorative gaze, and his face isn’t as naive and boyish as it was back then, but every bit as expectant. I consider waiting just a little more, to learn him and see through him until I can be sure that all this won’t have a tragic ending. But on the other hand I have waited for so long already... Such a great amount of precious time has gone by unused. It would be a sin to waste just one more second.

Without thinking about possible aftermaths or consequences I embrace him stormily and lift him a little. He gasps in surprise as he loses contact to the floor so abruptly, but he’s not reluctant. He is pretty heavy, but I manage to toss him onto the mapping table without much difficulty. His desirable backside sweeps away those figurines that had been accurately placed between Mordor and Gondor – if my father saw this! a distant part in me thinks, and with "this“ I mean my disrespect towards war strategy rather than the fact that I have just begun to seduce the young nephew of my father’s ally – and even before they roll over the edge of the table and I can hear them falling to the ground with low and dull thuds, I lean forward with determination and bring our mouths together.

I am surprised but not averse to it when his wonderfully soft lips almost immediately open under mine, and the tentative tip of his tongue curiously slips into the cave of my mouth. While he is testing around in a pretty unrestrained way – his kiss really seems to me more like an eager exploration than skilled fondling – I push his legs open and press myself in-between, so I can be even closer to him. I’m content to find that he does not pull back but places his hands on my shoulders, firmly but not repulsingly. This kiss... our first… it’s even more overwhelming than d dad dared to dream. Something seems to be unleashed inside of him, and the intensity of the encounter of our lips and tongues almost drives me out of my mind. If all this didn’t arouse me so much, I would use all my energy for fuming at myself because I didn’t make a pass at him much earlier.

~ ~ ~

Oh, what is happening to me? Everything spins and turns when he starts to kiss me, and before I even know it I return his passion. I almost don’t recognize myself anymore as I let him step between my thighs, where the proof of my desire seems to swell so keenly and quickly like never before in my life. He tastes a bit of bitter alcohol, and his fingertips are rough on my skin as he lifts his left hand from my waist and places it in the nape of my neck instead, as if he was afraid that I would come back to my senses again every second and withdraw from him. And this is pretty much the last thing I want to do right now.

I only wince a little and abruptly disconnect from his demanding lips when I feel his right hand at my crotch. Our gazes meet the very moment we open our lids, and I see desire flaring up in his eyes as he makes me moan with a consequent, faultless caress through my clothes.

“Don’t,” I somehow gasp out. My voice is raw and my breathing goes heavy, and I am so shaky with excitement and rapidly growing lust that it would be easy for him to ignore my request and force me into a very quick climax instead. Just the way he did all those years ago. But his hand withdraws and I breathe out in relief. I never could have forgiven him if he had helped me to such humiliation for the second time in my life. But only because I’m not eager to break my own record in premature climaxing it doesn’t mean that I don’t want to feel him more intimately.

“Not *here*,” I add to make him understand that I don’t regret what just happened between us, and that I very much desire a continuation. A small and benign smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“Your chambers or mine?”