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Arwen’s lips were so soft.
Éowyn gasped in a breath of wonderment and surprise, pulling back even as she first brushed them, leaving their kiss chaste and wholesome. It could almost have been a kiss between sisters, save for the pleasure that tingled across her skin and sank low in her belly.
“Why did you stop?” Arwen asked her.
“I did not mean to, entirely,” Éowyn admitted. “I was overcome.”
“How so?”
Éowyn smoothed her thumb across the velvet fabric of Arwen’s dress where it covered one of her pale shoulders, and said, “By the taste of your lips against my own, which I have so long desired.”
Arwen’s hand tightened around her elbow.
She seemed to come alive all at once, her smile so beautiful that Éowyn was unprepared when she threw herself into her arms, pressing their bodies into a single line and sealing their lips together with joyous abandon.
This kiss was nothing chaste.
The passion of it seared between them. Arwen’s tongue darted out from behind her parted lips to lick at the seam of Éowyn’s mouth. Their breasts rose and fell against each other, and Éowyn’s arms drew themselves around the small of Arwen’s back, not allowing even a fraction of space to open up between them.
Her head swam with heady pleasure born from long anticipation.
Arwen curled her hands around Éowyn’s shoulders, and their tongues melded into one another until Arwen drove hers into the depths of Éowyn’s mouth.
Éowyn moaned low in her throat.
She could feel Arwen’s spine through her dress, sharp against the rough skin of her palms, and she ached to lower her hands, to drag them down over the curve of Arwen’s backside. The mere thought sent a hot rush of blood to her face.
She twitched, fingers spasming.
Arwen’s kisses became more insistent.
Saliva pooled in their mouths.
Their combined breaths were hot and close, and their tongues continued to dance. Arwen grasped Éowyn’s shoulders and pushed at her, maneuvering her until her back was up against the bedroom wall.
Their kiss broke, and Arwen’s knee slipped between her legs.
Éowyn gasped.
“You’re beautiful,” Arwen said, murmuring the words against her neck. “Like a ray of sunshine in the heart of spring dancing across the freshly turned earth.”
She suckled Éowyn’s neck.
Éowyn’s hands shook, her hips rolling forward reflexively onto Arwen’s thigh.
The friction was as unbearable as it was desirable. There was nothing she could do save surrender to the pleasure that it brought her. Her eyes slipped closed, and her clitoris rubbed over Arwen’s firm muscles through layers of their clothes.
Arwen’s mouth continued to lave her skin. “You’re strong, too,” she murmured, teeth grazing Éowyn’s neck. “As strong as a rushing river.”
She moved her thigh, matching with ease the rhythm that Éowyn set with her own thrusts, and Éowyn’s pleasure redoubled.
“You make me feel alive,” Arwen said, breathlessly.
Éowyn shuddered, a moan catching in her throat. Arwen’s words seemed to light a fire under her skin that she had no hope of containing, and suddenly Éowyn could not stop her hands from sliding down Arwen’s back and kneading the firm globes of her rear, thumbs pressed deep into her skin through the fabric of her dress.
Spots of color appeared high on Arwen’s cheeks, and she gasped, pushing back against Éowyn’s hands as though to steal even more from her. Éowyn gave it, massaging her in rough circles and desiring nothing more than to memorize every perfect detail of her curves. She was flawless. Touching her so intimately was like touching the stars themselves, impossible and overwhelming.
Arwen’s thigh continued its ministrations. Éowyn was on the brink now, the muscles between her legs clenching and tightening with each further thrust of friction, heightening her pleasure all the more.
She was wet enough that she ached.
“I’m almost there,” she said, her words broken and disjointed. “Oh. Oh, please.”
She whimpered as Arwen kept her rhythm steady and unchanging, giving Éowyn just what she needed, not stopping or pausing even as her lips found the hollow of Éowyn’s throat and sucked the naked skin visible there.
Éowyn cried out.
She came in a rushing flood of sensation, clenching down hard and pulling Arwen flush against her as waves of pleasure crashed through her, emanating out from between her legs until her entire body felt warm and light, and her muscles were left shaking and trembling.
Arwen lifted her head, and Éowyn ended up pillowed against her chest. The skin on her face tingled as Arwen’s breasts rose and fell with her own excited breaths.
“I want — ” Éowyn began, but Arwen shushed her.
“Let’s get to the bed,” she said, hands sliding down from Éowyn’s shoulders to circle her nipples in teasing strokes.
Éowyn moaned.
Everything was hypersensitive, and even delicate touches such as those felt like too much to her.
Though her hands still felt bereft when Arwen stepped back.
The bed was soft and inviting, and both of them sat down on its edge, facing each other. Arwen's skin was still flushed over her delicate cheekbones, and her lips were swollen from kissing. “I want to taste you,” Éowyn said, her release making her bold as she stared into Arwen’s eyes.
Arwen gave a soft gasp of surprise and delight. “Yes,” she said immediately. Then, after a pause, she drew her hair over her right shoulder, fingers twitching, and added more slowly, almost nervously, “I would be honored to have your mouth on me.”
Éowyn smiled. “You would be doing me the greater honor.”
Arwen fell silent.
Éowyn turned slightly on the bed, reaching behind Arwen’s back to pick apart the simple laces holding her dress closed. The velvet caught on the calloused pads of her fingers, and she felt as though she was breathing far too loudly in her excitement for the silence of the room.
She drew the dress over Arwen’s head, and Arwen fell back against the bedspread. The rich creaminess of her pale skin was a sharp contrast against the darker blankets under her and midnight curtain of her hair which tangled in fine locks down around her waist, and Éowyn found herself shivering in anticipation of what was to come.
The removal of Arwen’s chemise revealed even more pale skin.
Her nipples were a rosy pink, each of them small and very pert, standing out from her breasts in hard nubs. Éowyn couldn’t resist reaching out and rolling one of them between her thumb and forefingers. Arwen cried out at the touch, tossing her neck back in raw pleasure and shaking her head roughly.
“Are you that sensitive?” Éowyn asked in surprise.
“Yes.” Arwen flushed a darker shade as she admitted it. “Éowyn,” she pleaded, taking her bottom lip between her teeth and worrying it as she stared up at her with lustful eyes.
Éowyn’s groin throbbed, and she leaned forward to kiss her softly.
When she returned to slipping off Arwen’s remaining garments, she worked quickly, leaving Arwen’s body naked and bare beneath her. The hair covering her mound was thick and dark, set against the broad milkiness of her muscular thighs. Her abdomen was smooth, skin taut and showing only the barest of curves.
She was ethereal, a goddess wrought in living form.
Éowyn slid down, her hands finding Arwen’s hips and grasping them, reveling in the feel of skin on skin, until she was situated between Arwen’s legs, shadowed under her knees. She leaned in closer and licked her lips. Arwen’s scent was fresh and earthen and irresistible.
Éowyn shivered, her mouth suddenly very dry.
Arwen spread her legs wider in the purest of invitations.
She squeezed Arwen’s hips and leaned closer, knowing as she did so that the first touch of her tongue to Arwen’s folds would change her irrevocably.
Anticipation at its height, Éowyn licked her in one broad sweep.
Arwen hissed out breathlessly above her, “Yes.”
She tasted wonderful. Éowyn slid her tongue up from the base of her opening to the delicate folds just below her mound, as though trying to encompass everything that made Arwen what she was in a single stroke.
Arwen’s hips shifted against her hands, and Éowyn heard her breath catch.
She licked faster, messier.
Her tongue searched for and found the delicate pearl of Arwen’s clitoris, circling and suckling at it, applying more pressure as Arwen’s breathing sped up, stifled moans and sighs rising from her chest. The sounds drove Éowyn on, challenging her to find the perfect rhythm, the perfect ratio of speed and friction and slipperiness and warmth that would take her over the edge.
She teased with her lips, drawing back and then thrusting forwards. Her hands smoothed broad circles over Arwen’s hips, not quite holding her down. She wanted to feel Arwen moving against her mouth, grinding herself against Éowyn’s tongue.
Arwen’s moans became erratic as her passage clenched and unclenched, her clitoris hardening further.
Éowyn slid her right hand from Arwen’s hip and drove her first two fingers inside her.
Arwen cried out wordlessly.
Her clitoris twitched against Éowyn’s tongue, and she thrust herself down hard onto Éowyn’s fingers, taking them deep into her.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted, her own fingers cutting into the bedspread.
Éowyn hummed and held to her rhythm, matching each of Arwen’s thrusts with a twist of her wrist.
It did not take long.
A sparse minute passed, and Arwen cried out again, clenching so hard that Éowyn gave a helpless moan at the pressure of it as she came.
The aftershocks were long and rhythmic, Arwen breathing happily and deeply in between her moans, grinding in small circles.
Éowyn watched her, overcome with her own joy at Arwen’s pleasure.
“That was,” Arwen said, panting. “Oh, Éowyn.”
She remained inarticulate as Éowyn pulled back. She drew herself up Arwen’s body and kissed her passionately.
Arwen smiled at the taste of herself on Éowyn’s lips.
When the two of them finally broke apart she was grinning, and she said, “Your own dress must be cumbersome. Allow me to remove it before I repay you in turn?”
Éowyn’s heart fluttered in her chest.
She nodded eagerly.