Pottymouth: 19. 19

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19. 19


Thum thum.

Thum thum.

Thum thum.

I can feel it striking against the bones of my chest, can feel it constricting and expanding. There's a rushing, a warmth, a clarity attendant to it.

The warmth especially ignites me. It rushes through me, fills me to the very tips of my
fingers, the ends of my toes; even my nose feels flush, tingling, hot. My eyes clear of the blue-white overlight, springing lucidity; I can hear, see, smell, taste more clearly, more intensely.

Thum thum.

Thum thum.

Thum thum.

What is it? It's drumming against my sternum, fluttering, releasing all the tension, the tightness, the hurt inside my torso. It's like releasing a dam, letting the water flow out. It's comforting, like rocking a baby, like breathing, like – like – like what we just did, the rhythmic, steady, up-down movement, but this one neither accelerates nor culminates, it simply is.


His weight rests on me, his hips on my hips, his chest pressing my body into the mattress. His head has slid to the side, beside mine; his cheek is touching my shoulder, and I can feel his lashes brushing against my neck.

Rosemary, rosemary and dirt and sunshine. Silky strands across my face, my throat, my breasts. Heat, weight, and that strong heart, thumping against my own.

I wonder if I should call Gandalf, and tell him he was right?

Well, almost right. It's Legolas, all right, but he's not all there anymore.

I feel a little ambivalent about that. I'm glad he was sent back – gladder than I've ever been – but where is my Elven Ass? Where's the sexy, foul-mouthed, sweet-toothed, in-your-face sonofabitch I fell in love with? I'm not complaining, Yavanna, but it's not quite the same . . .

Well, actually, it's like stepping back fifteen thousand years. I remember what he was like, when I was Lady of Emyn Arnen, and he was Lord of Dol Galenehtar, and we'd sit around the council-table and try to hammer out agricultural and trade agreements within our and the surrounding fiefdoms. Stubborn, terse, funny, deferential; really, nothing's changed – just the way he dresses, and some grammar. And as he goes along he seems to remember things – he sure the hell remembered how to get me off – so I imagine he'll slide right back into the thick of things, pick his personality up again. It doesn't matter, really. We have all the time in the world for him to play catch-up. And he's the same person – he smells the same, and looks the same, and feels the same, and moves the same – he even sounds the same. That exclamation when I felt his hot seed spurt up into me – "Aiya sií!" – I remember that; I remember him saying that before. And the trembling beforehand, and the wild thrusting, and the agitated groans –

Yes, it's him, all right. Thank the Valar – I was getting used to all that sex. Hate to have to live without it, just when I was getting the hang of the ol' bump-and-grind every ten minutes.


She moves beneath me, shifts her hips. Oh you lovely Edan, oh you lovely, beautiful, generous, wise Edan. How, how would I ever have known this, had you not shown me? I am blessed, infinitely blessed to be nestled between your legs; I answer your blessing tenfold -- I bless your throat, I bless your chin, I bless your collarbone, I bless your shoulder, I bless your breasts.


He's kissing me, his warm lips traveling all around, from my neck, up and down, down across my chest. He finds my breasts, his tongue goes out, making the hot shivery feelings shoot through me again. He takes a nipple into his mouth – the pulling, sucking warmth – warmth in his lips, his mouth, his tongue, where it was cold before.


Yes, blessing your breasts is definitely good, something I can do we both like. I roll the nipple between my tongue and teeth, suck it into my mouth, taste the salt-sweet of your skin. I raise my hands, cup your breasts, your soft firm breasts, press them up into my mouth, knead them.


All right, I'll stop bitching about him not quite being himself. This is fine. Definitely remembers the trick to making Happy Breasts. Hell, if I play my cards right, not only will I have trained him to suck my nipples; he'll be tonguing my clit at the drop of a hat. After all, he's being so pliant, so agreeable . . .

This feels very nice; I hope he doesn't find any reason to stop soon. And if as I suspect he's the same physically as he was before, he'll be up and running in record time, ready for Round Two.

I could go for that, hell yeah.


I am stirring, tensing again; I can feel the tightness, the pressure against my stomach. What was hard before has softened inside of you, but it awakens, rising, quickening. And the thing in my chest which pushes the heat quickens as well; it rushes, pulses, swishes and purls about my body, from the warm center of my being to the ends of my limbs.

My eyes brighten, my ears sharpen, my memories –

I can feel them, burgeoning, hastening; like a thousand tiny lights they kindle, each with their own spark, their own line to the other, the warmth from my chest pulses through them, carries them, takes them on their inexorable march through –

motorcycle sun ice lollies kitchen table Mozart prawns credit card emails fairy lights Frodo's shirt Faramir Gandalf's staff fire Manwë



He jerks up off me, as though he's been pulled up by his hair; suddenly he's upright, kneeling between my legs, both hands clutching the hair on the sides of his head, an expression of appalled horror on his face.

"Oh, FUCK! Éowyn!"

He looks down at me as though seeing me for the first time, his personality, his essence finally coalescing into one point, his blue, his intensely blue eyes.


She's lying there, oh my acushla, eyes glazed, sprawled beneath me, flushed and naked and sticky. She smiles, rolls onto her hip and curls her arm round my waist. Oh fuck, the feel of your fingers on my skin --

"That's better," she says, voice husky and low; slides her cheek up my stomach; "I was going through withdrawal, not hearing the F-word every thirty seconds."

My strength bleeds out of me, I collapse. I'm worse than dead, I'm dead-but-living, oh shit oh fuck how I must've hurt her. I left, vanished without any explanation, shouldered her needs aside in order to obey my lord, abandoned her, as good as fucking dumped her. But incredibly, when my body crumples on the bed she's there, her long limbs twining around me, her face nuzzling against me.

Oh Éowyn, acushla mine, how can you possibly forgive me?


Much, much better; that's the Elven Ass I missed. Come here, you. Make it up to me.


She's warm, vibrant, quivering with life; what a fucking contrast to the cold, the darkness, the silence, the – the – oh fuck, I don't want to think of it, oh my sainted aunt it was horrible.


He's shivering now, curling in on me; his arms, his opaque warm trembling arms wrap around me, his legs draw up so he's in a fetal position. Oh Legolas, my poor Elf; you remember now, don't you? You're remembering the pain and the punishment and the isolation Gandalf told me about, the rejection, aren't you? Oh shit, how I wish I could go back, go back thirty seconds and keep you from remembering, if it's this bad, if it's doing this to you. Oh god I've never seen you like this, never seen you shake and hide your face from anyone, never heard the sound of frightened breath hissing behind your teeth.


The aloneness, isolation, silence, crying out and hearing nothing, no one, nothing there – oh fuck, oh holy fuck, oh please, never, never again, oh fuck


I remember how Rosie was with me; was it only an hour ago? I hold him, cradle him against my breasts, rock him and stroke his silky fragrant hair and press my cheek against his head. He's clutching at me, desperate, his long white fingers trembling, his whole body shaking. I wait, like Rosie waited; and after a couple of minutes the shaking subsides, his fingers slacken, he takes a deep breath and raises his head to mine. He just looks at me, looks with those cerulean, aqua-faceted eyes, and I can see everything going through his head, written on that beautiful face: fear, anguish, horror, relief.

His arms snake around me, he presses his face up to my neck; I feel his tears on my skin. He's crying, oh shit he's crying; good grief that must've been worse for him than it was for me.

Of course it was, you stupid self-centered bitch. Agonizing death and damnation? Duh.


Oh fuck, my lord, please never make me do that again, never again, oh please no . . .

Be at peace, beloved Greenleaf; I shall never ask such sacrifice of you again. We threw you into the crucible and you were not found wanting. Never have we had such a faithful and obedient servant as you, who accepted his lot bravely, and so selflessly immolated his soul on another's behalf. Know that we are well pleased with you, and the tales of your great deeds echo from Mandos to Valinor and beyond. You have more than earned the right to rest and peace and prosperity for the remainder of your life.

Peace? Well, that'd be pretty fucking nice for a while, and the prosperity I've bloody well got, but I think I might get a little bored of resting after a couple hundred years . . .

Believe me, Greenleaf, with the reward that now encircles you, you will have no chance to explore the limits of ennui. Enjoy her; she is yours completely, absolutely, eternally.

Well, finally!

Bloody hell, glad that's over with. Fuck.

Don't even know what fucking day it is, or what time it is . . . feels like morning, can't be sure – bugger, I'm hungry. I wonder how long I was dead?

Oh fuck – Éowyn – oh fuck, fuck, I left you, I left you alone, I can't imagine how you felt, oh acushla –


He uncoils like a spring in my arms, long hard stomach pressing up against my own, legs extended; he takes me into the warm safe circle of his embrace, his hands cupping the back of my head, his fingers buried in my hair. His expression is aghast, anguished, tears running down his cheeks, his perfect sculpted cheeks, from those beautiful blue eyes; his dark lashes are congealed with tears and his rosy lips are trembling.

"Éowyn," he says, his voice quavering; he's shaking with emotion. "Éowyn, oh fuck Éowyn, I'm so sorry, I'm so fucking sorry."

Oh geez, he feels GUILTY; guilty for doing what he was made to do, what every person in the world would admire him for – that is, if we could explain it sufficiently – guilty for obeying his master, for rescuing a soul from hell. And he's apologizing – apologizing to me, for leaving me! Hell, an hour ago I would've made him crawl, would've made him buy me a roomful of roses, a couple diamond necklaces, maybe a new Mercedes to make up for it, but right now it's enough to know he's the best damn person on the whole fucking planet and he's mine, in my house, in my bed, naked, with a half a hard-on.

Funny how your priorities change when someone comes back from the dead. And funny how they change when you speak to one of the Valar, when you hear their voices, feel their love for us, and their wisdom concerning the place of mankind. I was so angry, so ready to scream and throw things and demand recompense an hour ago – but now he's here, and everything's going to be all right.

But he's so worried, so repentant and remorseful, that asking for either a diamond necklace OR a good fucking seems wildly inappropriate. I kiss him instead, kiss him hard on those sweet trembling lips, to let him know his Shieldmaiden's no shrinking violet. Hell no, you made a monster out of me and you'll damn well live with it.

"It's okay," I say, moving my lips on his, stroking his hair, his pale sleek hair. "It's all right. Everything's all right now."

"Oh, fuck." He sinks back down onto the bed, sagging in my arms, drops his head down to my chest. I embrace him, just hold him – it feels so good to hold him – he's so warm, so soft, so kinetic. It feels so good to have our skin touch, to smell him, to hear him breathe, to know that strong heart is pulsing and contracting inside his chest, hurrying his immortal blood around his beautiful, his delectable, his perfect body.


Oh fuck, oh bugger, oh my sainted aunt, I never got a chance to warn her, never got a chance to say good-bye, never even got the fucking chance to tell her I loved her – oh fuck, I'm such a goddam bloody fucking self-centered scally sissy sonofabitch I can't believe I did that to her. How fucking hard would it have been to just tell her, tell her before I left, tell her when we were in bed, I had so many bleeding opportunities and I bished it, I'm a cock-up, a fucking cock-up. I never told her, I just fucking waltzed around it, I hinted and hoped she'd hint back, how fucking cowardly is that, why the fuck didn't I TELL HER!

And who knows how long she's been grieving, oh my acushla, my poor Éowyn, not knowing why I did it, not knowing I was going to come back; hell, I didn't even know I was going to come back and I did it anyway, I'm such a stupid fucking manky grotty OIK. She didn't know what was going to happen to her, where she was going to go, oh fuck she must've thought she was alone again, oh fuck, oh bugger.


After a minute he speaks; I can feel his lips move against my collarbone. "How long was I dead?"

"Only six hours," I reassure him, kissing the top of his head. Hell, for good measure I'll rub my face in his hair, and breathe in, oh how I missed that smell . . .

"Six hours? Oh, fuck, Éowyn – " His arms tighten, he raises his face, he looks stricken. "I'm so sorry, I'm so fucking sorry – "

"It was only six hours," I repeat firmly, shaking him a little. "It's not like it was a week or something."

"But six hours is worse than a week," he groans, drops his head back to my shoulder. I can feel the tears drip off of him, dripping down my shoulder to my breast, tickling down next to my nipple. "The first blow of grief is the hardest, it gets easier to bear after time has passed – oh acushla – " He looks into my eyes again, frames my face in his long warm hands. Oh shit, Legolas, do you have any idea how beautiful you are, how much I missed just looking at you, looking into your eyes? It's so totally unfair that I'm going to be stuck with a man who's ten times prettier than I am, but shit, I'm up to it. Has its compensations, after all. "I'm so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. I'm an idiot, a fuck-head, a bloody stupid selfish berk to have put you through this – "

Now wait just a damn minute!


"Excuse me?!" Her silver eyes flash angrily at me, her hands tighten on my waist. Oh, slag me, acushla, god knows I deserve it; oh fuck you have no idea how lovely you are when you're brassed. "You just willingly sacrificed your life to save the soul of one of the Chosen, and you're calling yourself an IDIOT? Oh, no you don't," she says, and I can tell she's warming to her theme, the brill little bit; look at her eyes narrow, her lips thin out. Oh fuck, am I in for it, and I love it love it fucking love it. Love her shoulders squared, jaw clenched, brows creased, cheeks flushed; what a bloody brilliant little kife you are; what an absofuckinglutely marvelous little bit of all right. And when she speaks that low clear voice is sharp, incisive, cuts my fucking knacks off. Oh fucking A, am I in for a hell of a ride. The Lady of Emyn Arnen has returned and she's got the weed on, going to spit tacks, this one.

"You spend fifteen thousand years listening to, speaking for, and obeying the Valar; you go through war, privation, pain, grief, difficulty and discomfort with no thought for your own well-being or needs or desires, even when you DON'T have direct orders from the Valar you spend most of your time making sure everyone around you is healthy and happy and well, and right after you change ME from being a wimpy, sniveling mess you turn right around and sacrifice your life for some – some selfish jerk who doesn't deserve it, but you do it because you're asked to and you can't bear to see anyone suffer – " She takes a big breath, bugger her eyes are starry when she's mad, bet she's not the slightest bit aware how fucking gorgeous she is " – and then when the Valar DO relent and they DO reward you and you DO come back, all you can think about is that you're an idiot because I had a bad six hours? What the hell are you THINKING? I have never met anyone as selfless and good and stubborn and – and – beautiful – " Whoops, her voice cracked there " – and generous and kind and, and good-hearted and if you think I'm going to sit here in MY bed and listen to you talk trash about MY Elf – " another big breath " – you'd better think again because if you put yourself down ONE MORE TIME I am going to – to – " Floundering a little bit here, too mad to think of an appropriate punishment, not like she can bung my head off; oh fuck don't smile don't smile don't smile


Dammit, he thinks this is FUNNY?!


Ah, look at that now; her whole pretty face is all red; surprised there isn't steam coming out her ears . . .


He bites his lip, obviously trying to keep himself from smiling, damn him damn him damn him, but actually I guess I do sound kind of funny yelling and carrying on like this . . . oh damn, it must just be a reaction from all the stress and emotional shit this past night, oh shit I’m going to smile, don't smile don't smile don't smile, oh shit . . .


I see the edges of your pretty red lips twitch up, acushla. Ah, love a good bollocking, I do; and oh my Éowyn you do it so bloody well.


"You're going to what?" he asks, eyes crinkling. Oh, shit, he's leveling his damn dimples at me; set dimples on stun Mr. Spock, I'm helpless when he does that –


Go on, then, acushla, tell me what you're going to do to me . . . can't wait to bloody well hear this . . .




Looks like she's going to blow a fuse – yeah, that did it all right; she lets out a bloody furious scream and starts drumming on my chest with her fists, not to hurt – if she'd wanted to hurt me she sure the hell could – but out of frustration, poor little bit; why do women always find me so fucking irritating?

Could have something to do with the undeniable fact I love fucking with them. Poor little kifes – so easy to get their backs up, and so bloody funny too. No wonder Arwen's smacking me on the head all the time.

Didn't realize she felt so strong about me, didn't realize she thought so highly of me. Knew she fancied me, but fuck, mate, what woman doesn't? Hard not to, when I've been made to look like a bleeding Adonis. Nice to know she fancies my personality, fucking warped thing it is anyway, as well as my ronson, which has been sharked so many fucking times I'm bloody surprised it hasn't fallen off.

Oh fuck I love this little bit; even love it when she's bollocking me; I know this'll cheese her off even more but I laugh and embrace her. She tries to fight me, even pops off a big howl, "EEEERRRGGGHHHHHH!" but that only makes me laugh harder. Soon she's laughing too, gripping me by the back so hard I bet she's leaving fingernail-marks in my skin.

Not that fingernail-marks are necessarily a bad thing.

Oooooh fuck, that's got my todger's attention . . .


Oh this aggravating, funny, sexy, irritating little dork . . . shit, I love him I love him I love him, I never want us to be taken from each other, never never never . . .

Be at peace, Shieldmaiden. The Listener is yours for ever.

Oh, thank you, thank you Yavanna.

Hmm . . . I feel that against my hip. Not such a little dork after all.


Who was that – Yavanna, talking to my acushla? Well, I'll be damned.

Wait. I already was, wasn't I? Oh, well.

Now then. About your being brassed at me, acushla . . .


He pulls away from me, still has his arms around my waist, still pressing that hard hot jabby thing against me. He's smiling, the smug bastard, his eyes twinkling; I guess he didn't mind me telling him off, after all.

"I apologize profusely, O Lady of Emyn Arnen," he says in a high-class, fancy-pants voice, oh shit he just wriggled against me in JUST the right place, got a Hot Prickly dancing around down there again – "Whatever can your humble servant do to properly atone for his atrocious behavior?"


That's right, acushla; feel that, don't you? Oh fuck yeah, so do I, and it feels so bloody good.


So he wants to make up for it, does he? Well, hell, I can think of a couple of ways . . . Seems to me I have all of Faramir's old ties, the conservative preppie heterosexual-looking ones, in a box in my closet; I bet I can come up with a few creative uses for them . . .


Her gray eyes darken; I can see the awareness there, can feel the muscles in this lovely lean body tense and quiver. Now she's smiling, feral, untamed, that wild northern barbaric Shieldmaiden I remember.

Oh bugger, I am in so much fucking trouble.

"Let me tie you up," she says, her fingers tightening on me.

Lumme! Wasn't expecting that one!


Hard to shock him, but I seem to have managed it after all. How fun! Love to see that surprised blink, a little startled twitch, winged eyebrows raised; then he purses his lips, thinking; I can see the lust kindling in those beautiful blue eyes.

Oh please, please say yes; I'm holding my breath here, can't believe I actually SAID that but oh shit do I want to try it, always wanted to but never done anything like this before, never even dared to ask, oh please oh please oh please . . .


Fucking A, just the thought of it is getting my todger all hot and bothered . . .

Never done that before; always took the lead, even when I was underneath was always in charge. Fuck, to give up control like that, I don't know . . .

Took a bit to get her to say that; can't imagine her saying it yesterday but oh bloody hell, the Shieldmaiden is back. Fuck yeah!

Good opportunity to explore my new kink, too.

"One condition, acushla," I say, run my hands over her hips, oh those smooth lean hips . . .

She looks cautious, the bit of all right. "What?" she asks suspiciously. Ah, don't fucking blame you, wouldn't trust me either.

"Wear yer new boots, and nothing else," I say, lean down and give her luscious lower lip a little nibble.


WHAT? Whoa nelly, THAT'S a new twist! And now oh shit he's kissing me, sucking my lip into his mouth, can feel a little teeth there –

Oh, no you don't –

I remember how to do this, remember how to twist my body and use his weight to defeat him; I know if he were paying attention I'd never pull it off, but he seems a little distracted right now, feasting on my mouth, running his hands all over me . . .

Oooh, that feels good –

Now wait just a damn minute; I'M supposed to be the one in charge here!


FUCK how the fuck did she do THAT?

I'm on my back, didn't even realize she was going to flip me, couldn't even fight back – you little judy, I'm on to you now –

Oh, bugger that. She wants to tie me up; she can bloody well take charge if she likes. All hail the Shieldmaiden! Fuck yeah!

She's got my wrists pinned to the bed, her knees holding my hips down; I could shrug her off in a heartbeat, but why? Can practically feel the heat from that delicious quim right over my todger; oh fuck would I love to arch up and rub up against that hot wet spot . . .


I got him!

He's lying beneath me, surprisingly docile; looking up at me with a half-smile, eyes clouded with craving; he wants me he wants me he wants me, and why the hell shouldn't he? I'm going to make him weak with pleasure, make him groan and mewl and yell; he sure the hell ought to want me for what I'm going to do to him. His hair is spread all over the pillow, like a mass of golden floss carelessly strewn around his head; his beautiful, perfect face is framed in gold, he's flawless, exquisite, unbearably lovely, and mine mine mine.

I lean in, taste those sweet pink lips. "Gonna be a good boy?" I whisper against his mouth.

"As you wish, my lady," he whispers back, relaxing into the comforter. I grin at him and hop off the bed to root around in the closet.


Oh that evil grin; makes my stomach go tight, makes my plonker sit up and take notice; you fucking bet your arse I'll lie right here and be as good as gold so long as you get my knob off.

Bending over to dig around in a box on the floor – nice view – being good has its advantages. Fuck, I love her arse. Two honey-colored globes atop those two-klick legs . . .


Where are they where are they where are they I know they're in here somewhere doesn't that just fucking figure you trip over something for months until you want it and then you can't FIND IT!!! Going to lose the mood if I don't hurry where are they where are they –



She turns to me, did I think her grin was evil before? Practically angelic, now THIS is evil; got a handful of neckties in one fist, and oh fuck that look of anticipation –

"Nice ties," I manage to say, not easy to talk all of a sudden, my throat's too bloody tight by half . . .

"Didn't realize you were an expert on men's neckwear," she says, she's grinning, the brill little bit, climbs back on the bed and starts sorting them out.

"I'm not, never wear the bloody things," I say, more for conversational filler than for her intellectual benefit. Fuck, I'm such a berk.

"You will today," she says, and grabs one of my wrists.

Oh, fuck.


He actually looks a little apprehensive; I guess he's never done this before, either. Well, first time for everything, my dear Elven Ass; shit I'm so excited I think my heart's going to hammer itself out of my chest, and my hands are shaking, but my mind feels clear and sharp and ready ready ready, oh shit am I ready.

I stretch one of his long sculpted arms out; I love to look at the play of muscle underneath that lovely porcelain skin, love the visual proof of his incredible strength and agility – I was always pretty good at tying knots on board a boat; the ability returns to me and I loop twice, pull through, twist and tug, and his white skin is bisected by a thick strap of blue-and-gold stripes.

I knew Brooks Brothers was good for something.


Oh fuck, this is not good, oh fuck am I in trouble this time . . .

I'm nervous, but bugger I'm excited; if my plonker gets any stiffer it'll shatter, so hard not to push up into that warm soft hole


I pull up the other arm, loop loop pull pull twist and tug, and he's spread out beneath me, stretched out like he's flying, his ivory skin is flushed and his eyes are dilated and heavy-lidded. He may be nervous but oh shit, is he turned on.

"Now my turn," I say, and head back to the closet.


Oh fuck, oh bugger this is so . . . so bizarre, so fantastic, I can't believe I'm letting her do this, I can't believe I'm giving up control, I want to sit up, want to reach for her and I can't, I can't, oh fuck what have I done . . .

Oh, fuck. Oh, my sainted aunt. All right, then. Like I said, being good has its advantages – The remuneration of obedience is the fulfillment of the senses, oh fuck yeah . . . she's rolling those silky thigh-high stockings up over her legs, got her foot propped up on the bed, thighs spread, got an oh so perfect view of that lovely, that beautiful fadge, two pink folds surrounded by thick golden curls, oh fuck it . . .

Let me out let me out let me OUT I want to touch you oh fuck this is going to fucking KILL ME!

Knows what she's doing to me too, the little cow, oh my sainted aunt will I pay you back for this . . .

Oh wait – she's paying ME back – oh fuck –

Got both stockings on, beautiful things going up those gorgeous legs, love the wide strap of lace, want to get my fingers in it but I CAN'T FUCKING MOVE, oh fuck now she's turning round, showing me that absofuckinglutely magnificent arse, she's oh my sainted aunt she's bending over to pull up those boots –


I always thought I'd feel stupid doing this, acting this way, but oh wow this is FUN!

Maybe it's the look of frustrated desire on his face – or the way he's absent-mindedly tugging at the straps, obviously wanting to get free and grab me – or – oh shit, that moan he just gave, I'm driving him crazy, oh yes, yes, yes! Love my ass, don't you? Love to grab it, squeeze it, push it into the mattress – well, too bad, my beautiful Listener, right now all you can do is look at it, and if anyone's pushing anyone else's ass into the bed it's gonna be ME.

Never knew he had a foot fetish . . . gratifying. I slide those Fendi boots up my legs, making sure he gets a good eyeful of my pussy from behind, oh yes he just gave this heartrending groan –

"Oh, fuck, Éowyn, please . . . "


Bloody hell, was that MY voice? Oh fuck, I sound like my knacks are getting ripped off . . .

She turns her head, looks over her shoulder at me through her mop of golden curls, oh fuck oh shit oh bloody hell that expression on her face, I am so fucked . . .

"What's wrong?" she asks, practically fucking purring she is, you can tell she loves this, this fucking predicament I've got myself into, expert in cock-teasing this one, oh fuck . . .

"You're – stop, you're – oh fuck, come here – " I'm pulling on the ties, squirming on the comforter, anything to give myself some tactile stimulation, oh fuck I can't stand it –

She clucks her tongue, lowers those gorgeous silvery eyes demurely. "In a minute, Legolas. I'm not ready yet."

I can't help it; I groan again and mutter through gritted teeth, "You bloody little tease . . . " But she just fucking giggles, I can see her shoulders shake, oh fuck my plonker's about to explode . . .

She turns at last, can see those beautiful tits, that long lean stomach, she's stalking up to me, oh bloody hell she's so fucking gorgeous, and those boots, oh fuck –


Yes, I'd have to say that, in the face of the evidence, he likes my boots.

Now my stomach's all jumpy and fluttery; I'd better pull back a bit or I'll just sit on him and bring us both off so fast we won't know what hit us. I can do better than THAT. We have time, we have all the time in the world, more time than that even, no reason to rush . . .

"Now, is that a nice thing to say to your reward?" I ask archly. I kneel on the bed looking down the length of his body, stretched tight, muscles elongated, that big fat juicy dick shivering against his stomach, palpitating with every heartbeat. Spread the thighs, let him get a good look of what he's waiting so impatiently for . . .

"Not a nice fucking thing to do to YOUR reward," he says, his voice tight; he's wound up like a top, ready to blow . . .

Ah, blow, good idea. Shall we commence?

"No?" I ask. I very lightly, very carefully draw my fingertips up his thighs, he jumps and twitches and grits his teeth, I can see his jaw clenching. "You don't think this is nice?" I start to draw circles and swirling patterns on the insides of his thighs, getting close to his cock and balls but not touching them.

He lets out his breath in a hiss. "Closer," he groans.

I grin. This is too fun, reducing him to a wind-up toy. "Closer to being nice? I thought so," I say, and just keep on drawing circles on his legs.

He lets out a breath like an explosion; his eyes are squeezed shut, he's breathing very harsh, very heavy. Oh thank heaven, he's breathing, his heart is beating; it's over, my pain is over, oh thank you, thank you, thank you! "Fuck, Éowyn, just touch me," he begs, his hips arcing up into my hands.

"Already?" I smile at him, he opens his eyes, but oh that look of desperate supplication undoes me, and with a grin I lower my head.


Ooooohhhhhh yeeessssssss . . .

The tip of the tongue starts at the base runs right up to the helmet, fingers brush my knacks oh fuck yes . . .

oh fuck who the fuck is that making all that fucking noise in here


oh that smell, that heavy masculine smell, and oh the taste of him and myself commingled on his skin, that velvety skin right under the head . . . I swirl my tongue around the fat mushroom, hearing his low groaning "Oh bugger . . . " For some reason hearing him moan and watching him twitch and writhe beneath me is the biggest turn-on in the world, I can feel the heat growing in me, can feel the pressure, the aching, oh shit I want to mount him and ride ride ride . . .


suck me suck me suck me get me off before I fucking explode


Hmm, don't want him to come yet, better pull back


oh fuck don't stop don't stop oh fuck fuck fuck


He looks down at me, practically crying, his balls are so tight I can hardly see them, I bet if I sucked on his cock two or three more times he'd spill right into my mouth . . .

But that's NOT where I want him to come, hell no . . .

"Not yet," I tell him, wait, what's wrong with my voice, it's tight like his was, oh shit I need him inside me . . .


oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck I can't wait please please please

yes yes yes slide up me slide up my body oh fuck yes I need to be in you quick quick quick, can feel those boots, those fucking sexy boots, scraping my thighs

oh that smell that heady sexy smell hurry hurry hurry

I want to grab those tits, those creamy swinging tits above my face, I can't move, oh fuck I can't move my hands, can't even reach up with my mouth, oh fuck, oh bugger

oh shit do it do it do it

oh fuck


We're both breathing hard, oh god I want this

I straddle him, pull up his cock, not yet not yet, I split my lips with it, rub the wetness over the head, rub it on my clit



that feels so good, oh yes


oh fuck oh fuck acushla stop teasing me oh shit oh bloody hell I can't stand it

I can't move my FUCKING ARMS or I'd flip you so fucking fast and impale you, fuck I'd pound you into the bed, wrap those boots around my back, oh please please please


I can feel it building, pressing against me from the inside, oh yes, he's biting his lip, pulling hard on the ties, trying to control himself, trying to keep from arcing up into me, oh yes just a few more strokes


oh look at you, look at you acushla, oh fuck you're so beautiful, oh fuck that look of desire on your face, come on come on come on you know you want it as bad as I do


I can't help it, I want to wait but I can't, I have to have him now

I straighten up, push down

oh god


oh fuck at last

now who the hell's groaning in here, tell him to stop

oh fuck I already feel it I'm not going to last very long


oh yes that's right, he lurches up into me, can feel his pubic bone on my clit, not yet you bastard, I clamp my thighs around him, hold him down, ride him ride him ride him

that's right oh shit yes it rubs me right there right there oh yes


what are you doing let me move let me move in you oh fuck my wrists hurt from pulling my cock hurts from teasing, from want, I feel that clenching pulling sliding grinding oh fuck fuck fuck I can't hold back oh fuck I can feel those boots those fucking leather boots dig into me hold me down she's riding me oh my beautiful acushla ride me


like riding an angry horse, bucking and twitching and trying to unseat me, go ahead move some more you rub me just right, oh oh oh, the Screaming Bitch is back, and she's got company



oh fuck yes

oh yes slide like that like that oh fuck

oh fuck my heart fuck she's going to fucking kill me all over again


it's stretching it's coming out oh god yes here it comes, warm blunt spreading throbbing oh god yes


it's, I, I can't hold it, I, I can't –

oh bugger here I come


there it is the gush of warmth and then oh god I'm shaking, shaking from the inside out, oh god here it comes it's spreading up me out of me oh god I think I’m screaming but I can't stop


holy fucking shit on a lollie stick I don't believe it I'm coming AGAIN OH FUCK HOLD ON


it's not stopping it's not stopping oh shit feels like someone's shaking me from the inside oh god crashing over me like waves I'm drowning I can't breathe


I'm . . . oh . . . bugger . . .

breathe breathe breathe, oh fuck, can still feel it running through me like an electric shock, oh fuck bet the neighbors heard that, probably phoning the coppers right now


my throat hurts oh shit

shit am I finished? Oh . . . my . . . god . . .


What – what did she say, "Oh fuck Legolas"? That's a first –

Oh fucking hell, oh that was good, oh fuck fuck fuck. Feels like my eyes are spinning round in my skull, can't feel my feet, don’t care . . .


That was – whoof! – okay, try to catch your breath there . . . hey, how'd I end up lying down on top of him? I was sitting up a minute ago . . .

Hoooo boy, nearly blew the top of my head off there, better think twice before I go for the bondage thing again. Wow.


I feel like I've just had every last ounce of energy sucked out of my body. If my arms weren't still tied up I'd go completely limp.

Oh, fuck. That was bloody brilliant. Let's do that again sometime, hey, acushla?

Love to feel the weight on me, two sweaty bodies quivering, trembling, two frantic heartbeats pounding against each other, the shrill of breath, the shuddery aftershocks in the loins, the sticky skin. Oh fuck, thank you Manwë, never pegged myself as a closet pervy but oh my sainted aunt could I do this every fucking minute of every fucking day for the rest of my fucking life.

Fuck, my arms hurt.


All right, just move a little; need to get the hip moved over, shift the thigh a bit – ah, that's better.

Mmmm. Warm, slick, smooth skin beneath my palms, lean strong legs clamped between my thighs, long sticky soft penis sliding out of me, stickiness everywhere, good grief – does he ever run out? Hell, I hope not . . .

He shifts underneath me, rolling his hips, gives a deep sigh. Oh, I love you, Legolas; I love you I love you I love you.

Maybe I ought to tell you.

He's never told me. But I think he does, anyway. Maybe like me he's afraid to tell me, afraid I can't tell him I love him back.

I ought to tell him.

"That was fun," he says, I can hear his voice resonant in his chest, he sounds sated, relaxed, such a difference to a few minutes ago when he was so wound up I thought he'd fly apart.

"It sure the hell was," I say. Shit, is that MY voice? Husky, throaty, warm, seductive . . . Since when do I sound like a sex goddess?

Oh yeah – since he turned me into one, that's when. Hmm, from Scardy-Cat to Shieldmaiden to Sex Goddess in thirty-six hours. Not bad. This Elf works fast.

I nuzzle his throat, smell the piney, musky smell of his hair, then for fun I run a fingertip up his ear. He jumps, his hips twitching upwards, gasps; then he gives a breathy chuckle into my hair.


Ah, this is so bloody nice, so warm, so –


That little tease, she's at it again, taking the piss on me; fuck acushla, if I weren't so knackered I'd oblige, but I blew a pint of spunk and it'll take me a minute to recoup . . .

"Why didn't you tell me about your ears?" she asks. She's running her fingers round the rim, making chills run up and down my spine, making my breath come short; fuck does that feel good.

"Why d'yer think?" I ask. Bloody hard to talk when you're doing that, acushla . . .

"Saving it for a special occasion?" she asks, voice all snarky and sarcastic. I chuckle.

"Naw. Then I would've told yer the minute I picked you up in Pasadena. No, acushla, I figured if you knew about 'em, you'd be playin' with 'em all the time, and it's hard enough keepin' me control with you around – we'd be knobbin' twenty-four-seven, then, luv."

"And that's bad?" she asks innocently, making me laugh. Still those fingertips go round, up and down, touch the point, oh bugger – I have to pull my head away.

"Stop it," I say.

I can feel her cheek bunch up against my chest, she's grinning, the little bit. "Make me," she says.


I kind of like this, being in control, having him at my command, being in charge –

Strong hands grip my wrists, pull my arms down.

What the hell -- ?

"Hey!" I twist away, sit up; he's got my wrists still, wrapped around in those long strong fingers. And he's grinning up at me, the little shit! I look up at the ties, hanging limp and empty on the headboard.

"How the hell did you do that?" I ask. He laughs, his belly jiggling me against him, I can feel our pubic hair rubbing together, can feel the stickiness drying and getting gooey between us. I guess a shower's in order . . .

"Easy, acushla," he says, pulling me back down to him and putting his arms around my neck, holding me still while he kisses me. Oh those lips, and yes that tongue, hard to stay mad when Mr. Mouth gives his libation to mine . . . "Just gave 'em a quick twist, is all. Bloody hard to tie up an Elf, it is."

"I'll have to remember that," I say, trying to sound grumpy. Hell, I'm trying to BE grumpy; it's not fair that he can wiggle his way out of any knot I tie him up in –

Oh, those soft warm lips, that nimble hot tongue, oh yes –

Now wait just a damn minute –

"Dammit, Legolas, stop it!" I pull away from that sweet mouth, which is difficult as my tongue was really starting to enjoy itself, and sit up, glaring down at him. "You just broke the rules of BDSM – you're supposed to be helpless, dammit!"


Oh, look at her, you snarky shirty little bit you, hands on hips, jugs pert atop that lovely body, and oh those boots . . . I sit up, scoop her close; she tries to fight me but doesn't want to, not really; I settle her in my lap, feel those slick leather boots wind round my backside, oh fuck, there are worse things, yes indeed . . .

"I didn't break the rules of S & M, or whatever the fuck you want to call it,"
I tell her, wrap my arms and legs around her, hold her up to me. Oh bloody hell, Éowyn, you have no idea what you do to me, how you make my heart stop . . . "And I AM helpless, acushla; you've got me fucking tied up already – " She pulls her head back, stares at me, eyes wide. Yes, acushla; here I go, the world's least tactful cock-up, trying to tell you I love you, if I can just get it out my gob. "I'm in bondage to you, to you and the Valar – but it's good bondage, acushla, and good bondage is always voluntary."


Whoa. Shit. Wow. I think we're about to have A Moment here.


She looks at me, her expression changing, softening; she lifts a hand to my cheek. Oh yes, Éowyn, I love you, help me to tell you –

"Legolas – "

"Yes – "

I open my mouth –


"Winnie? Éowyn? I'm hoooome!"



Oh, shit. Not again.

This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.

Story Information

Author: Le Rouret

Status: General

Completion: Complete

Era: Other

Genre: Humor

Rating: Adult

Last Updated: 09/30/04

Original Post: 04/19/04

Go to Pottymouth overview


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