To those who know Éowyn, who know her stubborn pride and her quick temper, perhaps the greatest wonder of the night might be that she cannot find it in herself to claim, even for a moment, that it was not. She lies there, panting, her legs still whorishly spread, her chest heaving, and for the moment, she finds no shame in it at all; only a wonder that things have gone so far and so sweetly awry from how she foresaw them.
Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips, and she looks up at him with eyes dark and heavy-lidded, and cannot summon scorn. Her heart is still pounding in her chest and in her ears, a feverish gallop that seems at odds with the warm satisfaction that has seized upon her, and she shifts beneath him, noting with detached surprise just how damp the sheets beneath her have grown from her writhing, groaning desire.
"Yes," she admits, at last, and only a little grudgingly. And then, because even in her current state she cannot entirely give away a victory: "Though to be fair, I did not expect much."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sforzinda
no subject
Date: 2022-01-22 02:46 am (UTC)Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips, and she looks up at him with eyes dark and heavy-lidded, and cannot summon scorn. Her heart is still pounding in her chest and in her ears, a feverish gallop that seems at odds with the warm satisfaction that has seized upon her, and she shifts beneath him, noting with detached surprise just how damp the sheets beneath her have grown from her writhing, groaning desire.
"Yes," she admits, at last, and only a little grudgingly. And then, because even in her current state she cannot entirely give away a victory: "Though to be fair, I did not expect much."