Title: "Reined In"
Author: Barbara savageseraph
Disclaimer: People and places belong to the Tolkien estate and New Line Cinema, not me. I just amuse myself with them for fun, not profit.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Comments: Written for the LOTR SESA Holiday Fic Exchange. butterballer asked for a fic that included Eomer, smut, and "woolen socks." And with many thanks to caras_galadhon for being the Best Beta in the World.
Winters in Edoras were cold. The wind roared over the teeth of the mountains, carrying snow and a chill that could slice through even the warmest cloak. Aragorn planned his trip to Rohan to beat the worst of the weather, but when an early storm barreled across the plains, he regretted the journey that had him and his men arrive at the Golden Hall caked with snow and ice. There were all chilled, shivering, and entirely miserable.
When Eomer saw the condition of his guests, he waved off all formal niceties and greetings and had Aragorn's men ushered off to the baths. A hot tub in a private room was drawn for his fellow king. Aragorn sank gratefully into the water, let his eyes close as the heat drove the chill out of his flesh. Only when the water started to cool did he rise, towel off, and pull on a thick robe. He was considering the other garments left on the bed when several servants brought in platters of warm bread, roast mutton, and cheese. He smiled in thanks, his expression brightening when Eomer paused in the hallway, shutting the door behind him, and then latching it. He smiled slowly as Aragorn's eyes widened and then sat, giving Aragorn a looking over that was anything but regal. "You've gotten thinner."
Aragorn glanced down his body, which seemed to him as it always did. He shrugged. "I'm cold."
Eomer chucked, shook his head. "That should only affect the size of part of you." His attention focused on the lengths of knitted wool that hung limply in Aragon's hand, then at the other man's bare feet. "Put them on."
"Put...?" Aragorn's brow furrowed.
"The woolen socks." He nodded at them. "They might not be as fine and fancy as what you've become accustomed to, but they are a good deal warmer than whatever little slippers are in fashion in Minas Tirith."
"Fancy?" Aragorn arched an eyebrow. "You think I'm...fancy?"
"Fancy." Eomer nodded, a sly smile curving his lips. "The ranger who rose out of the grass and challenged me on the plains would have appreciated them."
Aragorn nodded, sighed wistfully as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Things were...simpler then." Despite the threat of the Shadow that loomed over the land before the war, sometimes he though those times were better. He stared at the socks for a moment, then let them fall to the mattress.
"I'm sorry. I should not have..." Eomer got up, sat next to him. He wrapped an arm around Aragorn's shoulders. "We have become what we had to. Both of us." His arm tightened around Aragorn. "Come, this is supposed to be a happy visit." He nodded toward the table. "Are you hungry?"
The smell of the food made Aragorn aware of how long it had been since the waybread he picked at as they rode through the storm. He glanced at the table and nodded, even as he leaned more heavily against Eomer. There were other things he had waited for far longer than food.
Eomer studied him for a moment, rested a hand on his chest, and shoved him back against the mattress. He straddled Aragorn's hips. "If you do not have a taste for food, then I will have a taste of you." He leaned close, kissed Aragorn slowly and deeply.
The memory of each miserable league they trudged through the storm melted away as Eomer's heat warmed Aragorn more completely than the bath. His hands came to rest on Eomer's hips then slid around his waist. Eomer groaned, as the kiss become rougher, more possessive. He opened Aragorn's robe, then leaned back, let his gaze move down Aragorn's body.
When callused fingers traced several scars, Aragorn shivered, moaned softly. It was so easy imagining those fingers wandering lower, slipping between his legs, pressing into him.
Eomer pressed close again, close enough for his lips to graze Aragorn's ear as he spoke. "You want a firm hand and a good hard ride, don't you?" He caught Aragorn's earlobe between his teeth and nipped, laughing softly at the soft cry of surprise. "Yes, I thought so."
His fingers moved from Aragorn's abdomen to his cock. Even though he just grazed the shaft, it was enough to make Aragorn's cock twitch. "Maybe you want it too much." Eomer pulled back. "I thought that might be the case." He pulled out a strip of leather. He growled softly, gripped Aragorn's hips tightly between his knees as he tried to squirm away while Eomer fastened the leather around the base of his cock and balls. "You need to be properly reined in."
Aragorn's back arched as he groaned deeply. His balls ached. His fingers curled into fists to keep from reaching for his cock. It wasn't his own touch he craved.
Picking up the sock discarded on the bed, Eomer slipped his hand inside, then curled his fingers loosely around Aragorn's cock, stroking lightly. He grinned as Aragorn gasped at the scrape of the coarse cloth, laughed softly as he tightened his grip and Aragorn shivered. "You seem to be a little more appreciative now, hmm?"
Aragorn swallowed, nodded. "It's... It feels..." Each statement faded into a soft groan as Eomer stroked more firmly, stroked him until he broke out in a light sweat and struggled against Eomer's weight holding him down so that he could thrust into his hand.
Ignoring Aragorn's protests, Eomer released his cock and stood. He pulled off his clothes, letting them drop to the floor in an untidy pile.
Aragorn watched intently, licking his lips as skin was bared. He wanted to taste it, swirl his tongue over Eomer's nipples, lick teasingly at the head of his cock. He wanted to feel it stretch his mouth wide, wanted Eomer's hands to grip his hair, holding him steady as he fucked his mouth.
"Hands and knees, Ranger."
Aragorn blinked, then rolled over onto his stomach. He spread his legs, raised his hips. Waited. When Eomer's slick fingers pressed into him with no warning, he muffled a cry against the pillows.
Eomer stroked the small of Aragorn's back, thrust more slowly, fingers twisting and stretching. "You're tight. Don't you let your pretty lords bend you over and bugger you?" He curled his fingers and stroked.
Aragorn bit back a cry as his hips bucked. He shook his head. No one would use him as he wanted. Not when he ordered them to. Not when he begged.
"Maybe you crave something less fancy." Eomer slid a third finger into him, stretched him smoothly, efficiently. "You must be aching for it all the time."
Aragorn felt his cheeks warm as he swallowed heavily, nodded. "I am."
"I bet you are." Eomer chuckled. "I could truss you up for the whole eodred to use and you'd still want more?"
"You... You wouldn't." Aragorn's voice sounded unsteady, even to his own ears. "You want me for yourself."
"Maybe I want to watch you shudder and struggle and scream." Eomer laughed as Aragorn groaned at his words. "Every cock you took would make you ache that much more for the rider you wanted to have mount you, wouldn't it?"
When Aragorn shook his head, Eomer's grip tightened on his cock enough that his cry was edged with pain. "Wouldn't it?"
"Yes. It would. It would." Aragorn arched his back, made a string of needy sounds as he tightened around Eomer's fingers.
Eomer nodded. "You're ready." He slipped his fingers out of Aragorn, hastily slicked up his own cock, pressed against Aragorn. "I should have shoved you against one of the pillars in the Golden Hall as soon as you walked in and taken you where you stood." He buried himself in Aragorn with a single, hard thrust and groaned deeply when Aragorn tightened around him.
If Eomer hadn't bound his cock, Aragorn would have come at that first thrust. As it was, his cock twitched and he bit down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood as he fought for control. When Eomer finally moved, his thrusts were long, slow, his soft groans indication of how much he was savoring the friction. Aragorn didn't think it possible he could get harder, but by the time Eomer's thrusts grew shorter, faster, he squirmed, hips twisting as he fought the thrusts and the restraints.
"Not yet." Eomer made soft, soothing sounds, ran his palm over Aragorn's back. "Not just yet." His fingers wandered to the nape of Aragorn's neck, stroking before slipping into his hair, gripping hard, and pulling Aragorn's head back sharply. "You get your reward when your rider says, and not before." Eomer's free hand slipped back into the sock, then curled around Aragorn's cock. He stilled. "Show me how much you want this."
Aragorn whispered soft pleas as shivers ran through him. He rocked his hips, trying to take Eomer deeper.
"Show me or I will tie you down to this bed and leave you aching all night."
Aragorn thrust hard into Eomer's hand, whimpering at the scratch of the wool against sensitive skin. The sensation didn't fade as he pressed back, fully impaling himself on Eomer's thick cock.
"That's right. Fuck yourself." Eomer stayed still while Aragorn moved between hand and cock. "I'm going to fuck you so often and so hard that you will ache on that long ride back to Gondor."
Aragorn closed his eyes tight, bit down hard on his lip as he moved more urgently.
"No reason to wait, is there?" Eomer's words were laced with need. He thrust hard into Aragorn, driving him forward. The strokes were short, brutal, and when Eomer changed the angle slightly, Aragorn tensed, shuddered, and cried out.
Eomer grabbed one of Aragorn's wrists, drawing his hand to his cock and curling it around the sock. "Keep stroking yourself." He waited until he saw Aragorn's hand move before gripping his hips and holding him as he pounded into him.
Each thrust forced a cry from Aragorn's lips. He stroked himself urgently, perhaps too urgently. He didn't even have the chance to voice a single plea when his hips jerked as he made a strangled cry and came.
Growling softly, Eomer stilled, buried balls deep. He took the sock from Aragorn's lax fingers, frowned as he looked at it. "Open." The word had the snap of a command the speaker never doubted would be obeyed. Aragorn parted his lips and Eomer stuffed the soiled wool into his mouth.
He kissed behind Aragorn's ear, then murmured gently into it. "You'll need it before I'm finished punishing you for taking what you know has to be given."
Aragorn shivered, bit down on the wool. He swallowed and tasted himself. The skin of his ass and thighs already tingled as he imagined the heavy strap Eomer would use to inspire his obedience and keep him reined in.