regency shenanigans | for faye

[shieldofrohan]

She 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?"

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[thedifferencebetween]

He does half wonder if she'll freeze up, pull away, dither and turn from him at the first display of heated physicality. It wouldn't be much of a surprise for her bravado to melt away and vanish in the face of reality.

Much to Jack's surprise, rather than pulling away or expressing shock or distaste, Eowyn responds. There's no experience in it, no practiced skill, but she isn't letting that hinder her. He finds himself grinning against her lips, the fingers in her hair turning from gripping to threading eagerly through her hair. By her own admission she is a true maiden, but that matters much less if she has no interest in hiding from her own passion.

Maybe he's done better with this match than he'd thought.

[shieldofrohan]

Hiding from her passion has never been Éowyn's way. Hiding it from others, certainly, at times; pushing it back into diamond-hard politeness and duty; but her blood runs hot, and while she may keep herself in check for the sake of reputation, she is not ashamed of that. There is no affection in her kiss, but there is heat, an almost violent competitiveness in the way she presses up against him, her free arm now coming up around his shoulders to steady herself.

She does pull away before he does, panting a little, her lips kiss-swollen. The false colour has been rubbed off them, but they are brighter for it, red against her lightly tanned face. Catching her breath, she looks at him, and the challenge on her face is clearer than words could be. Your move. Think me meek again, I dare you.

[thedifferencebetween]

"And here I was worried I'd ended up with a shrinking prude." Jack is all grins and hungry desire, mismatched eyes bright with it. As far as he's concerned, her response to the kiss was all he needed to know. He doesn't have to be cautious or hold back, mindful of any shielded feminine innocence and fear. If he'd any sort of doubt, that look on her face when she drew back would have banished them entirely. She could say what she wanted, but it was clear she wouldn't be a passive participant in the night's events.

One hand wanders over her shift-clad body, down her back, over her hip, beginning to explore the lines of his new wife's body. His other goes to the buttons of his shirt, beginning to undo them with a deliberate slowness.

[shieldofrohan]

Well, he no longer thinks that of her, at least. It's a small victory, but one Éowyn will take - after all, she has no intention of being a meek and shrinking wife, and he may as well know that as soon as possible.

Even through the shift, he can no doubt feel the taut muscle of her body, particularly as his hand smooths over her hip and ass. She holds perfectly still, watching him coolly. Still, there's something to the look in his eyes, that same hunger she felt in his kiss, that stokes the warmth inside her, an answering echo of desire. She has known there is a thrill in being wanted, but truthfully, she has never felt it as keenly before - nor had it go so quickly to her loins.

"There never was an Eorlingas who would shrink from anything," she tells him, with a clear note of pride in her voice, and lifts her chin a little. "Man or woman."

[thedifferencebetween]

"Good." Jack chuckles deeply, continuing to unbutton his shirt. "Because I am not a shy or quiet man, and I won't make a fool of you with other women, but I have a voracious appetite for the flesh oh wife of mine."

He's a married man now, and of a certain class, he won't strain an important marriage with loose women and brothels. But he has a wife now, and he has needs. They're hers to take care of and he wants no confusion as to what he expects.

"And you...you are very appetizing."

As though there were any doubt of that, with how his hand strokes her body. She's as fit as he'd thought, muscles firm and developed. Unusual for a noble born lady.

"Let me see you."

[shieldofrohan]

She has to remind herself of what she has just told him: there never was an Eorlingas who shrank from duty, or from fear. Still, there's a stab of uncertainty, a split second's hesitation, before she takes a half-step back and - in one quick movement, as if she's unwilling to test her nerve with slowness - pulls the silk shift off and over her head. It isn't his judgement she's afraid of: he has made his bargain, and if he is disappointed in his catch, then that is no-one's lookout but his. What makes her nervous is something more nebulous and less easily understood - some doubt in herself, some fear that she will make a fool of herself.

The body under her shift is by no means that of a society beauty. The muscle on her arms and neck is lean, and while she is a little too sharp to entirely be called beautiful while dressed, it is a subtle thing. Underneath, though... Her belly is flat and taut, her legs toned by riding and running both, and when she turns, folding the shift over her arm, to set it aside, her ass is sharply sculpted. Her breasts sit high and pert on her chest, where tan and freckling fade out to the creamy white skin a society lady ought to aspire to; a trail of coarse, dark blonde hair runs down to the mound between her thighs, obscuring but not hiding what lies beneath.

She turns back to him, folding her arms unconsciously across her chest, and raises an eyebrow in challenge. "Are you satisfied?"

[thedifferencebetween]

"More than."

Jack's eyes never leave her as she steps back to disrobe. He watches her, letting his gaze travel over her revealed body. Her strength surprises him, even after feeling her through her shift. That's the body of a woman who is active, who uses her body. She's all lean limbs and sharp curves, he can see no softness in her body beyond her breasts. He wonders if she hunts - and hopes that she does.

"No needlework or flower pressing for you, hmm? Look at you..." The appreciation is clear in his voice. All the while he's finished unbuttoning his shirt and now shrugs it off, draping it over the back of a nearby chair. His age is apparent in his form - a slight softness around the middle, a touch of gray in the light swath of hair on his chest - but his shoulders and arms are well muscled and his chest is broad and toned even still. A few scars cross over his arms and shoulders, and more are evident along his back, but they look very old.

[shieldofrohan]

"Not flower pressing, no." There's a hint of a smile in her voice for a moment, a certain pride and pleasure in being admired - and perhaps, underneath it, a certain surprise. She wouldn't mind if he was disturbed or disgusted by her body, as she's sure some men would be; it is hers, and she trusts it, and that's what matters. But to find it so clearly and actively appealing is something that she didn't quite expect.

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.

[thedifferencebetween]

"And I bet you've got a whole lot of physical stamina." His eyebrows raise at that. There's a temptation to abandon his current task and gather her up and press her naked body against his, but....he can be fair. His hands drop to the ties of his trousers and he meets her eyes as he begins to undo them.

"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.

[shieldofrohan]

"More than you, I do not doubt," she murmurs - to herself, but plenty loud enough for him to hear - and meets his eyes in turn, glancing only briefly down as his hands start to pull at the fastenings.

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.

[thedifferencebetween]

"Oh I look forward to surprising you." He has more stamina than one would guess - and tonics to ensure that fact.

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."

[shieldofrohan]

"I hope you'll allow me to sleep at least some of it." The acidic note has crept back into her voice, but it rings a little false, given that she's once again blushing, and that she is genuinely nervous. It's not the first time she's taken a man's trousers off - she's been nursing her uncle almost single-handedly for over a year, after all - but this is entirely different. She bites her lip, the gentleness of his touch both alarming and oddly pleasant, his hand gliding against her skin.

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."

[thedifferencebetween]

"Maybe." Jack's quick reply is jovial, possibly a joke, but it's difficult to tell. The time for sleep would come, but he's in no rush. Ever since he can recall being able to enjoy fleshy pleasures, Jack has. With great gusto.

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."

[shieldofrohan]

She blushes red at that. She doesn't want to - she wants to respond with some duly pithy comment, or at least something cool and unconcerned - but with his mismatched eyes boring into her like that, his face so close to hers, and with all she was already feeling, she can't help it. He's right, of course. He's right, and with five words he's successfully skewered her, all her bravado and her attempts at nonchalance. She can't even truthfully say that she isn't frightened by the prospect, because she is, of course she is.

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."

[thedifferencebetween]

There it is.

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."

[shieldofrohan]

She lets herself be guided, wrapping strong fingers around his erect member. Embarrassed though she is - and she is, her blush still hasn't fully subsided - she is also admittedly curious. She has seen penises before - if nothing else, she grew up in a household of men - but she has never seen an erection before tonight, much less touched one. There's genuine interest in the way she grips his cock and starts to move her hand up and down it, exploring.

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.

[thedifferencebetween]

Jack doesn't even have to urge her every move, show her what to do. For all her colored cheeks and silence, she showed no fear or revulsion.

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."

[shieldofrohan]

Éowyn's lip curls slightly in distaste, and she tightens her grip just a little. There's something in his tone she doesn't like, a condescension that rankles.

"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.

[thedifferencebetween]

"And here I thought we were just starting to have a pleasant time. Then by all means share what you'd rather I use as a term of endearment." He's only trying to be amiable and familiar with her, she's his wife for the love of God.

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?"

[shieldofrohan]

She does not loosen her grip on his balls, but sits back on her heels, looking up at him. For a moment, that is all she does - her grey eyes scanning his face intently, as if trying to read his expression, as if trying to tell whether he is serious. Deep down, she knows she's overreacting, but she's never been all that good at keeping herself in check when she feels slighted.

"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?"

[thedifferencebetween]

"You're taking the matter of pet names very seriously. And looking at it all wrong - a precious treasure isn't a trinket, it's something valuable. Something important. You, my ball threatening beauty, are very important to me."

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."

[shieldofrohan]

There is a flash of fury in her eyes. She is not used to being so directly threatened, and it stings her pride - all the more because her pride is already bruised by her position, naked and kneeling as she is. She does not fear the withdrawal of his good nature, not for herself - she considers herself more than capable of standing up to anything he may throw at her, and if he sours against her, well, she is a woman well-used to making her own way when she must. But her family...

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.

[thedifferencebetween]

"Is that so?"

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?"

[shieldofrohan]

It takes little encouragement to bring Éowyn to her feet, at least; she has disliked kneeling, even knowing that it is a petty bitterness that makes her dislike it. Nervousness still flutters, unwanted but somehow not entirely unpleasant, in her chest as she stands. She no longer knows whether the thought of the night ahead frightens or excites her, but part of her is eager to have it over with, to find her footing again and know where she stands.

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."

[thedifferencebetween]

Really, Jack thinks, she ought to be thanking him. He could give no consideration to her comfort or pleasure at all. He could have just tossed her onto the bed and be done with it, as he knows plenty of men do.

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.