regency shenanigans | for faye
May. 8th, 2020 04:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shieldofrohanShe is resigned to the coming of this day, and faces it with equanimity, at least outwardly. For all her fire, she is a dutiful woman, and a woman's duty is to be married, to strengthen the family through ties of blood and bear strong children. It doesn't matter how much she might wonder at why that must be her lot, why it is her duty to be a wife and not a soldier or a master of estates. It doesn't matter that it chafes. It is her duty to be here, to make a good match, and the Earl of Rohan's niece is nothing if not dutiful.
Not that this should be called a good match. In better days, the Eorlingas family would never have dreamed of marrying into trade. They are an old line, one that traces its lands and titles back for centuries, and a proud one. But the wars elsewhere in the Empire have shattered them financially, as well as taking her cousin's life, and the Earl's long sickness drains their coffers even more. Even the proudest line must eventually bend, or perish.
So it has been goodbye to girlish dreams of love, or of handsome princes, or fairytale endings. Goodbye to her own freedom, to life on her uncle's estate, where in her free time she has been able to ride and hunt and shoot with the best of them. Goodbye to pride in her family name, now she must take another. It is a heavy price to pay, and when her uncle leads her up the aisle to meet her new groom at the altar, it is a weight that she feels all too keenly. There is a burning resentment in her eyes, which is not quite disguised by the modest downcast of her gaze.
She says the words, and does not let her voice shake. She sits beside him at the reception afterwards, still as a marble statue in her white silk, and speaks little, and smiles not at all - still, she is polite and attentive to her guests, and does nothing that could be called rude or improper. She dances with him, and is graceful in sidestepping more dances than are strictly necessary. For much of the night she has wine in her hand, but a keen observer might notice how rarely she drinks it. She has no intention of misbehaving. Reputations - her family's reputations - are at stake.
It is almost a relief when the guests begin to leave - almost, until she remembers what comes next. Despite herself, she weeps a little as she bids her brother and uncle farewell, the only time in this whole affair she has shown any sign of her own discomfort. It is a brief moment, though, and one quickly put aside. A wedding, she reminds herself sternly, is no time for grief.
And then she is married. Married to a man below her station, older than her by some years, who she does not know particularly well or care for overmuch. It is done, and cannot be undone, and still her duty is not finished, although all she wants to do is withdraw and rest far away from all of this.
Instead, she starts up the stairs to their wedding chamber, and does not let herself falter. This is duty too, she reminds herself. Lie back, let him do what he will, it will be over soon. And yet she is so weary of duty, of lying back and playing the sweet and modest girl. There is a part of her, a deep steel that will not be driven out, that says If he shames me, I will scratch his damn eyes out.
When Jack heads up to the room, he will find his new bride waiting, her long hair unpinned and hanging loose around her shoulders. She has been helped out of her Spanish lace gown, and now wears only a shift and stockings, white silk clinging to her slender, toned frame. She is, undeniably, beautiful - even if the calluses on her hands and the tan under her powder belies more mannish activities than a young lady should undertake - but even now, as she stands to greet her husband, there is no softness to her. She tilts her chin upward, and looks at him - now they are alone - with barely-disguised scorn. This is not the husband she wanted, nor deserved. She may be his, and she will do her duty by him, but it is not her duty to enjoy it.
"What now, husband?" she says at last, her voice low and steady, and the dry sarcasm so faint it might be imagined. "Where would you have me?"
Not that this should be called a good match. In better days, the Eorlingas family would never have dreamed of marrying into trade. They are an old line, one that traces its lands and titles back for centuries, and a proud one. But the wars elsewhere in the Empire have shattered them financially, as well as taking her cousin's life, and the Earl's long sickness drains their coffers even more. Even the proudest line must eventually bend, or perish.
So it has been goodbye to girlish dreams of love, or of handsome princes, or fairytale endings. Goodbye to her own freedom, to life on her uncle's estate, where in her free time she has been able to ride and hunt and shoot with the best of them. Goodbye to pride in her family name, now she must take another. It is a heavy price to pay, and when her uncle leads her up the aisle to meet her new groom at the altar, it is a weight that she feels all too keenly. There is a burning resentment in her eyes, which is not quite disguised by the modest downcast of her gaze.
She says the words, and does not let her voice shake. She sits beside him at the reception afterwards, still as a marble statue in her white silk, and speaks little, and smiles not at all - still, she is polite and attentive to her guests, and does nothing that could be called rude or improper. She dances with him, and is graceful in sidestepping more dances than are strictly necessary. For much of the night she has wine in her hand, but a keen observer might notice how rarely she drinks it. She has no intention of misbehaving. Reputations - her family's reputations - are at stake.
It is almost a relief when the guests begin to leave - almost, until she remembers what comes next. Despite herself, she weeps a little as she bids her brother and uncle farewell, the only time in this whole affair she has shown any sign of her own discomfort. It is a brief moment, though, and one quickly put aside. A wedding, she reminds herself sternly, is no time for grief.
And then she is married. Married to a man below her station, older than her by some years, who she does not know particularly well or care for overmuch. It is done, and cannot be undone, and still her duty is not finished, although all she wants to do is withdraw and rest far away from all of this.
Instead, she starts up the stairs to their wedding chamber, and does not let herself falter. This is duty too, she reminds herself. Lie back, let him do what he will, it will be over soon. And yet she is so weary of duty, of lying back and playing the sweet and modest girl. There is a part of her, a deep steel that will not be driven out, that says If he shames me, I will scratch his damn eyes out.
When Jack heads up to the room, he will find his new bride waiting, her long hair unpinned and hanging loose around her shoulders. She has been helped out of her Spanish lace gown, and now wears only a shift and stockings, white silk clinging to her slender, toned frame. She is, undeniably, beautiful - even if the calluses on her hands and the tan under her powder belies more mannish activities than a young lady should undertake - but even now, as she stands to greet her husband, there is no softness to her. She tilts her chin upward, and looks at him - now they are alone - with barely-disguised scorn. This is not the husband she wanted, nor deserved. She may be his, and she will do her duty by him, but it is not her duty to enjoy it.
"What now, husband?" she says at last, her voice low and steady, and the dry sarcasm so faint it might be imagined. "Where would you have me?"
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Date: 2020-05-10 10:37 pm (UTC)She didn't quite expect him to be in such good shape, either. He's still almost twice her age, and it shows - but it also shows that he takes care of himself. He looks more like the stable hands on her family estate than the lords and worthies who regularly visit it, and that interests her. So do the scars, although she has better manners than to ask about them. For the first time, she begins to really wonder about his history, how he has come to be this man, who this man even is...
Well. For better or worse, she has a lifetime to discover that.
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Date: 2020-05-10 11:07 pm (UTC)"You could give me a little help over here, you know." He likes it when his partner helps him get undressed - and likes to see their expression when they first lay eyes on his cock.
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Date: 2020-05-10 11:22 pm (UTC)There is the nervousness again, the terrible knowledge that this is irreversible. It comes in waves, she is finding; waves of unsteadiness and doubt, like standing at a cliff edge. It doesn't matter that the irreversible has already been set into motion, that law has bound them together - the physical sealing of it still unnerves her. Men, she thinks bitterly, can hardly know the scale of a woman's virginity, or the import of its loss. No man, she is sure, has ever felt quite this same pang of doubt and anxiety. No man need stake his worth on it.
It's that nervousness which keeps her from making a sarcastic response to his comment; which leads her instead to obediently draw closer, hesitating only a split second before reaching for the laces. It may bring the moment closer, but at least it is something to do, and at least when that moment is passed and she is no longer a virgin, she can turn her concern to other worries of this marriage.
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Date: 2020-05-11 03:41 pm (UTC)It catches Jack by surprise that there's no further comment, no challenging little quip as she undoes his trousers. A reminder that for all her fire and clever words, his new wife is an untouched maid. It's honestly a bit awkward, how silent she is as she goes about her task, the empty quiet strangely loud.
His hands go to her hair, stroking through the loose curls and fingertips brushing the edge of her face, the tops of her shoulders. She may not look like a noble woman out of her fine clothes, but her skin and hair are soft and fragrant and clean like any other high born woman.
"Take your time." It's not a snide or pushing comment, it's purely the extent of kindness Jack is inclined to offer this evening. He'll let her take her time, because she's an innocent in the practical sense and hasn't made him fight her every step.
"We've got all night."
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Date: 2020-05-11 05:05 pm (UTC)The truth is, this is harder than she had expected, this balancing of pride and duty. She had had a general idea, when she came upstairs, of what the night would entail - and it had mostly been prefunctory and brief. It might hurt, she had thought, and it might be pleasant or unpleasant, but she had naively expected it to be simple. A task to be completed, like any other. She had only thought about the physical act of it. She hadn't anticipated about the intimacy that comes with this moment, the sense of genuine interest from him, the small responses of her own body. She prepared herself for her wedding night the way she might prepare for a dance, planning movements and settling nerves. Now she's finding that she doesn't even know the steps.
She swallows, and undoes the last button, reaching around him to push the trousers off his hips. It's a moment more before she actually looks, though. Her expression is staid, but there is a certain curiosity in the way she worries at her lip, and a certain nervousness.
"As I said," she says at last, and looks at him with that defiance again, "I've seen bigger."
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Date: 2020-05-11 10:06 pm (UTC)He snorts at her comment, not letting it get under his skin. There's a pride in his expression and how he stands, he's never had any shame about his physical attributes. Even at his age now, he takes care of himself, keeps active, keeps fit. As fit as he can, there's only so much age that exercise can keep away. And his cock still rises to full glory, if not as frequently as it used to.
Jack's broad fingers brush her back over her shoulders, and he leans down just a bit, not to kiss her but to bring their eyes close together.
"Seen, maybe. But never had."
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Date: 2020-05-11 11:50 pm (UTC)In the end, she just shakes her head, swallowing, and hopes against hope he's somehow missed how flushed she is. "No," she says slowly, her voice carefully measured. "No, I suppose not."
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Date: 2020-05-12 06:00 am (UTC)Jack knows he's gotten to her, slipped under that proud armor she's been wrapping herself in all evening. There's a little thrill at that and it flashes in his eyes. It's like a sparring match, in a way, each of them trying to jab the other. One point is his now and it's the rush of triumph and conquest he feels. A small one, in the grand scheme of the evening, but it's a rush that's arousing all the same.
At the start of the evening he'd never imagined Eowyn would prove so well matched a partner.
"Go on." He reaches for her wrist, grasping it and bringing her hand to his cock. He wasn't so cruel as to just spear her without leading her up to the act. For both of their sake - he'd enjoy it far more if she was wet and ready for him, and he's aching for the feel of her hand on him.
"Get to know it a little first."
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Date: 2020-05-13 01:24 am (UTC)It's softer than she expected - not soft in the sense of pliable, but soft like silk or velvet, the skin smooth and warm, moving over the hardness underneath. She runs her thumb over the head, marvelling inwardly at how different the skin feels there, how smooth and almost waxy. For a moment, she forgets her embarrassment, can even put aside her discomfort at how she might seem to him, in favour of her own interest. Despite her comment, the size does unsettle her a little - it's bigger than she anticipated, and quietly she's reassuring herself that men and women have been doing this for thousands of years, so it mustn't be as unlikely to fit as it appears.
Her fingers loosen, trail along the base of his cock, feeling the hard ridge underneath, until it gives way to the heavy hang of his balls. Curious, and looking back up at his face to see how he reacts, she pushes her hand back a little further and cups them in her palm, squeezing experimentally.
Again, she grew up in a house full of boys, and - not that she intends to let him know this - has been in more than a few scuffles with her brother and cousin. She's well aware of how sensitive that part of a man is when it comes to a knee or an elbow. It makes her wonder how sensitive it might be to other things.
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Date: 2020-05-13 03:31 am (UTC)As she cautiously explores the length and breadth of his cock, he admits he can see the appeal of an inexperienced partner. There's something particularly nice about her careful, curious touches. It's clear there's no experience behind them, she's as unfamiliar with a man's body as she claimed, but still.
He lets out a pleasant sigh as her fingers move over him, boldly familiarizing herself with every inch of him. When she journeys further down, palm against his balls, Jack grunts in surprised pleasure. Oh, she's a delightful surprise!
"That's all for you, pet."
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Date: 2020-05-13 04:00 pm (UTC)"Call me 'pet' again, husband, and I may be sorely tempted to twist them off." She says it almost with the tone of a joke. Almost. She knows that he probably meant nothing by it, just a casual endearment, but it cuts a little close for her. Pet. An amusement, something to be owned and controlled, to have no function and no control - yes, as a lady newly-wed, it feels a little too close to the truth.
At least it gives her a little of her anger back, and with it, her strength. She will not be embarrassed, she determines, and she will not be his pet, either. She will do her duty by him - but by the end of tonight, she swears to herself, he will know damned well that Éowyn Eorlingas is no man's plaything.
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Date: 2020-11-04 03:00 am (UTC)Jack's tone is easy and playful, but there's a gleam in his eyes that isn't quite. That's very close to a threat, he's not fond of those. And over such a little thing...
"Would precious or treasure be more to your liking?"
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Date: 2020-11-30 12:00 am (UTC)"You might start by finding something that does not make a trinket of me. Whatever the law may think of the matter, I do not belong to you or to any man. Do you understand that?"
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Date: 2021-01-22 12:41 am (UTC)Oh what a spirit! Feisty and fiery. Of course there's a thing as too much spirit, and Jack looks right back down at her, amusement and something hard dancing in his eyes as he meets hers.
"But so are plenty of other things, so please don't think my generosity and good nature are limitless. Don't test them."
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Date: 2021-01-23 07:39 pm (UTC)Her grip softens, moves from his balls back to his cock, and she begins to stroke him, all the while meeting his eyes unblinkingly. A thought occurs to her, and her mouth twitches in the suggestion of a smile.
"It does seem to me that, in the matter of pet names, 'ball-threatening beauty' is one I can find little in to criticise." In private, at least.
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Date: 2021-01-25 02:59 am (UTC)There's a current of amusement in Jack's voice still. But that's telling. That's very telling. For all that they barely know one another, he's learning quite a bit about his new bride this evening.
"I'll keep that in mind."
But there are other things to focus on right now. It's their wedding night, after all, and she's doing a very good job of exciting him. One broad hand lightly grips her shoulder and urges her to her feet.
"For now, I'd say it's time we got nice and comfortable. Don't ya think?"
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Date: 2021-01-27 01:19 am (UTC)To not be so girlish in her anticipation, in short. He has no right to that. He also has no right to the blush she can still feel lightly colouring her cheeks.
She clears her throat, lifting her chin. "By all means."
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Date: 2021-02-08 01:14 am (UTC)Of course 'plenty of men' don't have quite so appealing a bride as he.
Even more fetching with that hint of color high on her cheeks, conflicting with the set of her jaw. For all her fire and all her steel, she's a virgin on her wedding night. There's that pride, again, that he's the one to have her.
Taking her hand in his, he leads her to his sprawling bed. It's ready and waiting, the bedding drawn down for them. He gives her a moment, lets her look at it, have whatever thoughts she needs to have before he pulls her down into it with him. Not that he stands patiently by. He moves behind her, head lowering to press his mouth against her well formed shoulder.
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Date: 2021-02-09 12:17 am (UTC)But she is afraid, a little, of the hot desire that blossoms in her anew as he takes her hand, as she looks at the bed with its wordless invitation. She is afraid of the way her heart skips as he pulls her down onto the sheets, the cotton soft against her bare skin, his body warm and close. She is afraid, not to mention ashamed, of the catch in her breath, the little gasp that escapes her at the hot press of his open mouth against the hollow of her shoulder.
This, like the time on her knees, is unfamiliar ground. She cannot take refuge in pride here, or in the steady certainty of etiquette. She cannot hide behind the mask of the noblewoman who knows her place and never falters. Here, she does not know her place at all, and it is both frightening and oddly exhilarating.
As these thoughts pass through her mind, she is shifting instinctively against him, her body taking its own view on the situation, her hand tracing down the contours of his side and feeling the shift of muscle beneath skin, her legs parting instinctively where she lies.
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Date: 2021-03-01 03:04 am (UTC)Not that his lovely new bride has made any attempt to hide the truth of herself from him. She's honestly fascinating, this proud and steel tinged woman who still has something of the innocent maid clinging to her.
And God she's beautiful. One hand toys with a bit of her unbound hair, thick fingers carding through it and catching it between them. He wants to see her undone in ecstasy and know he's the only man who's ever done that to her.
With that in mind, his other hand reaches for her, running down along her back to the curve of her sculpted buttocks. His broad palm slides over her hip and stops, resting heavily there.
"Lie on your back. I wanna touch you. And you might not realize it yet, but you want me to touch you, too."
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Date: 2021-03-01 03:26 am (UTC)Without argument, she shifts to do as she's told, twisting in his arms to roll onto her back. Part of her wants, even now, to cover herself, to pretend demureness as though that were still possible. She rejects that shy and ladylike impulse, and all that it suggests - all the play-acting and the fear it belies. Instead, she lets go of him as she moves, her hand coming up to push away the long locks of hair that have fallen across her breasts, to leave herself all the more fully bared. Her legs part again, her knees coming up a little way, the air cool against the damp thicket of her cunt. If I am to be naked for you, she seems to say with that movement, and with the look she gives him, then let it be entire.
"Touch me, then." There is a haughty edge to her voice, a hint of command, even as her breath comes a little unsteady. "Have we not had enough talk for one night?"
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Date: 2021-03-01 03:40 am (UTC)Besides, there's more than one way to enjoy bedroom sport. It's as much a thrill to give pleasure as to get, in its own way. To be the orchestrator of another's passion. And Eowyn, he can tell already, is a woman with the potential for great passion.
"I've never been one to believe in silence in the bedroom." His eyebrows lift as his hand strays between her thighs, not taking his time or going slowly now but running his fingers and the flat of his palm down against her already warmed and slicked skin, pressing against the whole of her cunt. And oh god but does she feel good against his hand, the heat of her making his blood rush.
His eyes are on her face now, wanting to see her as he touches her.
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Date: 2021-03-01 04:01 am (UTC)His touch surprises her. It has no right to surprise her, not when she's been so thoroughly warned and when she's had all this time to ready herself - but it surprises her nonetheless, with the sudden bolt of sharp desire that it sends juddering through her, more sudden and more intense than her own hand has ever won. Without meaning to, she lets out a short gasp, her hips twitching against his hand and her muscular thighs tensing, her cunt clenching instinctively against his palm as if to pull him in.
Éowyn bites her tongue, shocked at herself, a little embarrassed by how easy it is to drag that reaction from her - and, at the same time, wondering what the rest of the night holds, if this is still only the start of it. Wondering if she can make him feel the same. Wondering, as if for the first time, at what pleasure and what power there might be for a woman in all of this, if she can seize her part of what, until now, she has always assumed on some level to be a man's experience.
As if spurred on by that thought, she reaches for him again, her hand coming flat against his chest, her fingers pressing just a little as she resumes her exploration of his body, enjoying the heat of his skin and the pulse she feels just beneath the skin.
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Date: 2021-03-05 10:44 pm (UTC)This is what he'd hoped for. The start of the undoing, the loss of control, stripping everything away to raw primal reactions.
Still grinning that hungry, wolfish grin he lifts himself over her, fingers busy between her thighs, mouth fixing on her throat. Teeth scrape against her skin, calloused fingertips press against the bud of her clit. Despite not knowing what his new bride particularly enjoys, Jack is no stranger to a woman's body. Excited as she already is, he imagines that it would be difficult to make an effort and fall short.
But still. He wants her lost to her excitement, he wants her writhing and crying out and clinging to him in abandon before he's even inside of her.
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Date: 2021-03-08 10:43 pm (UTC)You are an animal, she thinks, fumbling her hand off his chest and back to the nape of his neck, where she can dig her fingers into the short shock of his hair and seek purchase. A hungry, devouring beast.
God help me, so am I.
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