for drinkupmehearties

[shieldofrohan]

It has been most of a month now since Jack came to Gondor's shores, a good two weeks since Faramir returned to Ithilien. Éowyn has meant, every day, to tell him the truth; every day, she has shied away from it. It isn't out of fear for her own sake, or Jack's, but when she comes to speak to Faramir, sees the familiar lines of his face and the gentle look in his eyes, she can't bring herself to hurt him that way. She keeps telling herself the time will come, must come, that she isn't avoiding it but only waiting. Deep down, though, she knows full well there's never going to be a right time, that she'll never tell him if things go on this way, and perhaps Jack was right, perhaps that's for the best. She's kept away from Jack for the most part, giving his care over to one of the serving-men of the household, and she's certainly never repeated the mistake of that first morning back in Ithilien. Faramir knows something is wrong, she can tell that much, but perhaps if she just lets it lie, tries to get back to normal...

It would be easier if everything else went back to normal around her. But it doesn't. It takes her a few days to be sure, to count off the days and know she isn't just being paranoid, that she really ought to have bled by now. She keeps hoping for a day or so after that, but when she comes back from her afternoon ride, strips down to change into a dress, and finds her underthings still clean, hope shrivels to despair.

Faramir is out, luckily. Éowyn dresses as quickly as she can, and tries to steady herself, to wipe away the tears that haven't quite spilled over, before taking a deep breath and heading out into the hallway. Jack's guard is outside his room, and looks at her with clear concern, but when she dismisses him, he goes without argument.

She locks the door behind her, not lingering in the doorway this time but crossing right over to Jack and grabbing his arm. The tears are threatening again, and there's a light in her eyes that isn't remotely one of happiness. "Jack. Listen to me."

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[shieldofrohan]

Éowyn smiles, slow and appreciative, looking at him from under her eyelashes for a moment before she turns to catch Faramir's mouth. It's easy to relax into the moment, that luxurious ease of it, lying between the warmth of her husband and her lover, letting her eyes slip closed and her mouth make a leisurely exploration of Faramir's.

It would be so good, she thinks, to just settle into this moment forever - never leave this bed, never have to face up to the possibility of her first child being someone else's, never hide any of this or be afraid of what it means or feel guilt for drawing Faramir into it. Just the three of them, sweaty and warm against each other, the smell of sex in the air and that haze of satisfaction settled over at least two of them.

Soon three, she hopes, and shifts the motion of her hand a little, to make it less of a strain on her wrist.

[drinkupmehearties]

His lips curl in answer to her smile, thinking how good it is to see her look this way, how it seems like it's been ages since her expression has been anything near content. It's harder to think much else than that, however. Jack closes his eyes for a brief time, breath growing more shallow as she works on him, a groan rising in his throat. It's then that his hand rests over hers, erection hard and aching beneath her touch, and pulls her away to guide her fingers to her clit. With his hand leading atop hers, he rubs in slow, firm circles.

His hand releases after a few moments, an indication for her to continue. He shifts on the bed in the meanwhile, sliding her legs apart and settling himself in between them. His finger brushes over the heat and wetness of her first, pad of his finger stroking soft over her slick entrance, almost teasing.

He wants badly to take her right now, breaths heavy and shuddering, heady with that desire. Thus, soon after, his touch is replaced with his cock, running the head of it in the same path along her entrance. Then Jack rocks his hips forward, to ease himself into her.

[shieldofrohan]

Éowyn doesn't think it particularly likely she'll come again, not with how heavy the contentment and tiredness are lying on her. That doesn't mean, though, that she can't bring herself pleasure, toying with her clit almost idly and humming her approval. It doesn't mean he doesn't feel good sliding inside her like that, and as she looks up at him from under her lashes, there's definitely arousal in her eyes, even if it's a more... idolent kind than usual.

She pulls her eyes away from his, turning her head back to Faramir to be sure that he is not neglected. Still, her hips press up against Jack's, her cunt tightening around him.

[drinkupmehearties]

He doesn't glance to weigh Faramir's reaction this time, even as Eowyn's gaze slides away from his and over to her husband. Instead Jack lets out a low, husky moan as her hips lift to meet his own, pressing forward to bury himself deeper inside her. He begins a steady rhythm thrusting into her, one hand placed on the bed beside her and the other lifting her leg beneath the knee to get a good depth and angle.

It doesn't take much too long for his pace to quicken, for his breaths to become more shallow, quicker. The events from earlier -- combined with the delay in getting his own gratification -- certainly have helped with that.

[shieldofrohan]

"Not inside," Faramir reminds him, quietly. He's still lying against Eowyn's side, but he opens his eyes, looking up at Jack for the first time in several minutes. His expression is almost studiously blank, despite his relaxed posture.

[drinkupmehearties]

He'd been mindful of that before this anyhow, pulling out in time to finish and spill himself on her belly. He exhales, breaths growing stronger and steadier. Then Jack drops to lay beside Eowyn with a sigh, feeling that lazy haziness pervading his thoughts.

[shieldofrohan]

Éowyn smiles, her free hand rising languidly to rest against Jack's shoulder. It feels good, to lie there with a warm body on either side of her, with Faramir settling back against the crook of her arm and Jack's breath brushing against her skin. Ignoring the mess on her belly, she closes her eyes.

Let this not end, she thinks, or maybe prays. Let this never end.

[drinkupmehearties]

Jack closes his eyes as well, relaxed, heartbeat slow and steady. His palm moves to rest high onto Eowyn's chest, thumb tracing light over her collarbone, the touch idle and warm.

It's a peaceful, comfortable sort of calm. The sort that Jack isn't sure he's felt for a long while, perhaps not since some time before Panem. So he allows himself to enjoy this for now, revel in this -- in all three of them together, sweaty and sleepy and satisfied.