His fingers find places she never knew were inside her, make light burst along her spine and delicious tightness grip her belly. She has brought herself to completion before, of course, but it has never been like this, her orgasm not ebbing and flowing, but rushing like a tidal wave against her, pleasure thundering like a storm. Her fingers grasp at the sheets, at his shoulders, at her own hair, as if to anchor her; she writhes and arches against his hand, her chest heaving, her face contorted with pleasure and the need to realise every moment of it; her strong thighs tauten around his hand and her eyes struggle to focus, to find his.
She, too, spills words without truly meaning to, hardly aware of what she says, in a bastard mix of Westron and Rohirric: "There, love, there - oh!... deeper, a little deeper, ai, blíðnes, ai, féowung, hyhtgifa min, oh! Faramir, oh, Faramir...!" And then her tongue overtakes her words, and his skilful touch and throaty promises overtake her senses, and she is no longer speaking but babbling, and then crying out, as she lets go, lets all the pleasure come crashing in on her, gives herself over to the brightness bursting behind her eyes and the wild, furious bliss it carries.
Her eyes fly open, unseeing and unfocused, and her fingers curl - rucking the sheets under her, digging sharp nails into the exposed skin of his upper arm - and for a moment it seems to her that she floats, not outside herself but more fully within herself than she has ever been, and all that there is is her body and his, merged to one being, to one moment...
And then the moment passes, and though pleasure and orgasmic aftershocks still thrill through her, she lets herself fall back against the bed, laughing breathlessly at her own abandon. Sweat beads on her forehead, tears of sheer intensity track down her cheekbones and disappear into the tangled nest of her hair. She pants, smiling, and looks up at her husband with eyes still a little bleary, then abruptly reaches up to pull him in for another fierce kiss.
"You are a wonder," she tells him, as her cunt twitches more feebly around his fingers, and she laughs, her tone teasing and warm. "Show me more wonders, man of Gondor."
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sforzinda
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Date: 2018-07-25 02:13 pm (UTC)She, too, spills words without truly meaning to, hardly aware of what she says, in a bastard mix of Westron and Rohirric: "There, love, there - oh!... deeper, a little deeper, ai, blíðnes, ai, féowung, hyhtgifa min, oh! Faramir, oh, Faramir...!" And then her tongue overtakes her words, and his skilful touch and throaty promises overtake her senses, and she is no longer speaking but babbling, and then crying out, as she lets go, lets all the pleasure come crashing in on her, gives herself over to the brightness bursting behind her eyes and the wild, furious bliss it carries.
Her eyes fly open, unseeing and unfocused, and her fingers curl - rucking the sheets under her, digging sharp nails into the exposed skin of his upper arm - and for a moment it seems to her that she floats, not outside herself but more fully within herself than she has ever been, and all that there is is her body and his, merged to one being, to one moment...
And then the moment passes, and though pleasure and orgasmic aftershocks still thrill through her, she lets herself fall back against the bed, laughing breathlessly at her own abandon. Sweat beads on her forehead, tears of sheer intensity track down her cheekbones and disappear into the tangled nest of her hair. She pants, smiling, and looks up at her husband with eyes still a little bleary, then abruptly reaches up to pull him in for another fierce kiss.
"You are a wonder," she tells him, as her cunt twitches more feebly around his fingers, and she laughs, her tone teasing and warm. "Show me more wonders, man of Gondor."