Eowyn: The Cage - Ch. 08a

I need Elfi.

He began to tumesce at the thought. And I can't walk around the camp like this. It would be just my luck to run into Éowyn again...and since she must already consider me a slow-witted pervert, what could I possibly say if she notices? Struggling in vain to mute his ardor, he hastened back to the tent.

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And so he found them.

Her.

And her.

Lost in their union, neither noticed him duck through the entrance. For the second time today he gaped at something he'd never expected to see...but now, it was a vision well beyond even his most fevered imagining. His mouth worked soundlessly and his breath stilled. He was unable to move, save in one place: his penis swelled to the breaking point, desperate to escape its confines, until the painful pressure inside his pants snapped him out of immobility. With rapidly mounting lust he dropped to his knees, eager for a closer view, certain that the moment they became aware of him this erotic tableau would come to an immediate and angry end, yet caring only that he could — while it lasted — swallow this vision whole. While he was within touching distance of both, he dared not reach for either.

With the womanly roundness of his beloved sister he was all too familiar. He hadn't spied on her, exactly — could it really be called spying when they both did it, each aware that the other would be watching given any opportunity? — but their bodies held no secrets from each other. Yet open acknowledgement of this fact unduly strained their resistance, and they were careful to avoid confrontational nudity while in close proximity. This was the first time Théo had been in the same room as his fully nude sister since they were young children. His blood roiled at the sight.

His attention strayed to the slender grace of Éowyn. Where Elfi was softness, she was strength. Where his sister overflowed with open sexuality, Éowyn's aura was more refined and noble...yet even now he could sense how it seethed with barely repressed erotic power. She was, he'd always thought, the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen; surpassing even his unquestionably ravishing sister, though his love for Elfi admitted neither limit nor rival. But never in his most impossible fantasies had he thought to see the Lady Éowyn naked, especially at such close quarters.

And to witness the two of them together....

There was love between them already. Through the deep bond he shared with his sister, he could feel it. While he never doubted the sincerity or fullness of Elfi's love for him, she gave much more freely of her seemingly boundless reserves thereof than he. She was doing so now...not just making love to Éowyn, but actually loving her. He didn't know if Éowyn could sense it, but he knew.

In that moment of understanding, something held tightly closed in his heart suddenly shattered wide open. Elfi's love blossomed within that space, manifest and tactile. And from that blossoming, her love for Éowyn was reflected by him. It seemed impossible, even ludicrous — he hadn't yet spoken a word to Éowyn, much less touched her — but it was true: as Elfi loved her, in fact because she loved her, he loved her as well.

Careful to maintain a cautious silence, he extracted his painfully rigid shaft and slowly stroked its length. He knew he shouldn't, knew it could bring this incredible moment to an end if...when...he was caught, knew he was taking selfish advantage of a situation he should instead flee, but he was beyond reason or sense.

Elfi worshipped Éowyn's beauty with caresses, kisses, and soft laps of her tongue. His hand crept to his chest, mimicking the way she was tweaking Éowyn's nipples, and as his arousal increased he pulled his sweat-soaked shirt from his body. In this insane tableau, he dared not do more at the moment. But he couldn't leave, either. He would accept whatever consequences might arise, but he couldn't stop watching.

He kept stroking, feeling his testicles tighten. He'd never been harder or more aroused.

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Whatever exclamation of surprise or protest Éowyn might have been readying was lost when Elfi pushed two fingers deep inside her clutching pussy. A sharp inhalation of pleasure was all she could manage, and it was this sound alone with which she greeted their newly arrived audience.

She stared at Théo. His face burned with raw desire, though for whom she couldn't tell. She studied the bronzed muscles of his chest, the youthful flatness of his stomach...and then, compelled, her eyes dipped to his stiff and throbbing cock. His strokes slowed under her regard, and she found that she couldn't tear her attention away.

It's beautiful. Wormtongue's was, to me, as ugly as the snake to which it was attached, but this is a manhood as I've always imagined it. I want to feel it against my skin. In my hand. In my....

Rational thought failed as the possibilities welled from her mind and her loins. She reached for him in invitation.

His hand immediately fell away from his penis, but he remained rooted in place. His eyes flicked between Éowyn and Elfi. Torn. Irresolute. Fearful.

Éowyn knew what she had to do.