Title: Between the Walls
Author: tafkar
Summary: It's NC-17 and Grima. You sure you want to read this?
Category: Evil, and dirty.
Spoilers: Oh, please.
Rating: NC-17
Archiving: Always welcome; just let me know you have done so.
Notes: Written for Tyellas, who asked for an evil LOTR drabble.



A board was loose, just enough for Grima to move it aside and slip between the outer and inner walls of the bathing house. The empty space was warm and filled with a dank sulfurous scent from the springs below. He slithered down the gap, splinters catching at his robes, to a well-prepared hole at eye level.

She had just removed the pins from her hair, and he watched the shining strands, silver in the dim light, slide down her shoulders as she bent forward, reaching down to catch the hem of her overdress and pull it off over her head. The shift underneath was thin and worn, and dark though it was, he could still see the rose of her skin through the white of the fabric.

His breath caught.

She slid her shift over her head, and began to step into the steaming water. He watched her toes, then her whole foot, penetrate the surface, the yellow-clear of the water following her foot ever so slightly. He slid his hand over himself, imagining being that water, engulfing her with slick clinging heat. She slid down, neck-deep, and her flesh seemed to ripple in the undulating pool as she reached for the soap.

The gap between the walls was far too snug to fit something as thick as his hand between his torso and the wall. As he watched her lather her body, he moved his hips, rubbing, rubbing, as his robes clung and twisted around his cock. Splinters from the raw wall worked through the dirty wool. He pictured them drawing little drops of blood, pictured Eowyn's hot dark mouth scraping over him with sharp tiny teeth, and tried not to moan.

Her hands slid between her legs. His heart shuddered in anticipation; he had been awaiting this moment. He timed the motion of his hips with hers, as if by synchronized rhythm he could make the wall vanish, the space vanish, her loathing vanish, and slide in, feel her around him, feel those sharp little teeth. She gasped loudly and he allowed himself a small, quivering moan as the splinters drove themselves ever further into his penis. One, two, one more thrust, and he bit down on the filthy wool of his robe to muffle any sound he might make as he shook in silent orgasm. The hot jets of semen seemed to vanish in the heat of the air, and only later would he find a dried white smear across his belly, under the robe.

As Eowyn pulled on her shift, he stared through the wall, little barbs of wood pressing into his forehead as sweat ran down the side of his nose. Tonight he would eat at the dining table until his stomach ached from his gorged state, and watch her as she glanced at him from underneath her lashes with hesitant eyes.

We live for feedback.