Notes: So... I'm here.

I'll be the first to admit this is an absurd story, that makes no sense (especially if you take in consideration Éomer's honor and all...) But I couldn't resist -most of the time I don't even try anymore.

Basically I'm using this fanfic as a "study". I have a hard time writing smut/porn/sexy scenes in general, so I'm trying now, with this. Trying not to think too hard about a plot.

Of course I want this story to go somewhere, but mostly Éomer is hot and I want to use that hotness here, so… Sorry? Kind of? Not really?

Anyone. Tolkien would forgive me. (Probably not).

I hope you can enjoy this absurd.

Chapter 1

"Éomer!" His name was a cry of pure pleasure and it thrilled him. He made her like this, his proper lady -so quiet and soft spoken- wasn't that quiet on their bed.

The sight of her under him was mesmerizing: her long, thick hair was spread on the pillow, the light from the candles revealing the red hidden in its dark color; her pupils were blown so wide, they almost hid the beautiful grey of her eyes; she was biting her plump lower lip, probably trying to hold back on her moans. He loved how she felt around his cock: tight, wet and so hot. She was made for him.

He thrusted hard against her, knowing she loved it by the way her thighs squeezed his hips. He watched entranced as her tits bounced with his movements. Uncappable of stopping himself, he grabbed one of them in his big hands and gave it a squeeze, before flickering the nipple with his thumb.

"Éomer." This time she said his name in a moan.

Éomer leaned in her direction, then bit her jaw on the spot he knew it drove her crazy. "What? Too much for you, Princess?" He asked, his hips still moving against hers.

Her laughter was sultry and breathless and it almost made him spill right there. "I wouldn't have married a Horselord if I didn't like rough rides."

Her words made fire run through his veins. "Minx." He growled at her. "If a rough ride is what you wish, I'll give you one."

He grabbed her right leg and hooked her knee over his elbow, opening her wider to him. He pounded into her and her cries of pleasure got obscenely loud. However, Éomer didn't care if she woke up the whole of Edoras; her cries were for him and he intended to enjoy them all.

His name became a chant on her lips as her fingers found her nub. He himself had showed her that special spot.

She peaked so beautifully that Éomer swore he saw Heaven.

XxX

King Éomer sat suddenly on his cot, his heart beating like he'd just finished a battle.

What had that been?

He could say it'd been a dream -since he'd been sleeping -but it'd felt so real. Too real.

It was as if he could feel the sensations on his skin -the sweat, the heat -, the smells -wax from the candles, lavender -but, most of all, he could feel her. It was like he was touching her skin, tasting her mouth; he could feel her cunt wrapping around his cock.

"Béma!" Éomer cursed as he got up from his cot.

He was rock hard and he felt like a green boy, who couldn't even have one dream about women without risking spilling on his pants.

But… It hadn't felt like a dream; it'd felt like a memory. A damn good one at that.

However, it wasn't a memory, since Éomer had never seen that woman before. A shame, because she was beautiful.

Probably too beautiful for the likes of him.

Éomer shook his head, trying to disperse the self-pitying thoughts. What was wrong with him today?

He could see the grey light that announced the sun would soon be rising. His men would be up in a short time, preparing to leave.

They were getting close to Minas Tirith, on their way to Éowyn's wedding. Éomer felt the familiar heaviness in his heart from thinking about it. He was happy for his sister -he truly was -and Faramir was a good man -he'd be hard pressed to find a better one -but it still meant his sister was going to leave him alone.

He'd be the only one left in Edoras.

At least the depressing thoughts had taken care of his erection. He was about to spend the day riding, a hard cock would be big inconvenience.

XxX

Lothíriel gasped as he pounded into her. Her hands had nothing to grasp -the table's surface was too smooth -and she'd probably have bruises on her thighs from where the table's edge was digging into them.

However, she wasn't complaining; not with how he felt inside her -so hot, so big, so hard -or with the feeling of his breath on her neck, his hands on her hips and the sound of slapping flesh.

Heavens, that man made her wanton. And she loved it.

His hand glided over her hip bone, until he found her pearl and flickered it with his thumb.

"Oh my…" She chocked on a curse. She hadn't become that shameless yet.

She felt the rumble of his chest against her back as he laughed. "What was that, my Lady?" He asked, his hips slowing their pumping against her, until they were just lazy movements.

"Don't stop." She whined.

"Why not?" He asked, his breath hot against her ear. He was still moving, but it was torturously slow. "You prefer to be fucked hard?"

She gasped. "Don't say things like that." She spoke, but -deep down -she loved his words and he was quite aware of that.

"You love my words." He teased, then bit her neck gently. "As much as you love being fucked." He punctuated his affirmation with a sharp thrust of his hips.

Lothíriel was so close she almost sobbed. "Please…"

"You're my Queen. You never have to beg me." He told her before pulling her face to his.

She saw a flash of blonde hair before his mouth covered hers. It wasn't really comfortable to kiss him like this, but she didn't care.

Especially when he ended the kiss, pushed her down until she was flat against the table's surface, then proceeded to royally fuck her.

XxX

Princess Lothíriel gasped as she woke up.

Her heart was about to explode on her chest, her nightgown was bunched up above her navel and she was covered in a layer of sweat.

What had that been?

What kind of dream was that?

Lothíriel had never heard words as vulgar as those, and the act itself… What was all of that?

She didn't even know men and women could do things like that!

Or could they?

The princess sat in her bed and shook her head. What kind of wanton and shameful thoughts were those? What was wrong with her?

And the feelings in her body…

She was boiling hot and could still feel fingers on her skin, lips on her neck. The princess was startled to notice she was wet between her legs, and she wondered if it was sweat. However, she was also throbbing there and didn't want to get anywhere near it to check.

Her governess would rap her knuckles if she even dreamed about the thoughts inside Lothíriel's head.

The princess got up from her bed and sat by her vanity. She picked her favorite hair brush -the one that once belonged to her mother -and started dividing her hair in locks, them combed then gently, trying to calm her thoughts.

She had many things to do today; Minas Tirith was bursting with the preparations of Faramir's wedding to the White Lady of Rohan. Her cousin had always been loved by the people of the city and Lady Éowyn was the slayer of the Witch King; it was bound to be a big event.

King Elassar's own wedding had been a grand affair, and, even though Faramir and Éowyn didn't want something as grand as that, it was still the celebration of the union of two beloved figures and two great nations.

And that meant…

The Rohirrim were coming. She'd finally meet the men that saved her family in battle.

She'd finally meet the King of Rohan.

Notes: So...

Thoughts?

Also, this wasn't beta read and English isn't my first language. I hope it wasn't terrible to read (grammatically speaking) but let me know if I made too many mistakes.