Into the White Tower
Boromir's eyes seemed to swallow down everything around him. They feasted on
Aragorn, only to turn away whenever the object of Boromir's fascination took
notice of the heated stare. Boromir would then indulge himself in absorbing the
sights of his homeland, as if recommitting them to memory. Again and again
Boromir would fleetingly look Aragorn's way but he would never meet the other's
hungry stare. Only when Aragorn's attention returned to their path would Boromir
allow himself to gaze upon his king once more. The pattern repeated itself over
and over throughout the day, the night, and into the dawn as the two men walked.
Aragorn had tried to speak many times but he was unsuccessful. Words had never
been much of a factor in his dreams of Boromir before. Every other time they had
fallen into making love after exchanging nothing more than a few heated glances,
or else the situation was an altered scenario from their travels together, in
which case its dialogue was already established.
With every step closer to Minas Tirith, Aragorn became more frustrated by
Boromir's decision not to lay down with him, followed by his own failure to
awaken and end this rather uninteresting dream. As they entered the outskirts of
the White City it became more likely that this trip was no sleeping fantasy at
all, but rather reality. The complication that Boromir's return represented
finally began to batter at the edges of Aragorn's obsessive desire for his
former companion.
As the first few people were just beginning to take notice of them, Aragorn
considered if he should offer his cloak to Boromir so the hood might be raised.
Normally Aragorn returned to the city and his duties after a stint in the wild
under the cover of darkness. The swiftly rising sun would allow them no
anonymity. Still, Aragorn had no objection to his subjects recognizing him and
it had been over eight years since word had spread of Boromir's death. After
such news and so much time, Boromir was not likely to be recognized.
Aragorn soon discovered his mistake. He had greatly underestimated the memory of
Minas Tirith's people. By the time that the pair of them had reached the gate to
the inner keep a huge crowd had gathered about them. Questions were shouted out
and strangers' hands caught at Boromir. Not every single voice was welcoming
either, though most were full of kindness. Strangely, it was the cries of
welcome and praise that seemed to bother Boromir the most. Every time a hail
included the world 'hero' Boromir would shiver slightly as if he wished to
flinch away from the accolade. Mostly Boromir kept his gaze fixed ahead on the
lines of the tower. The only time he actually stopped and looked at the horde
of people was when the slur of "Betrayer!" pierced the resounding din.
Never in all his time as ruler had Aragorn been so happy to close a door between
his subjects and himself. They still had soldiers, tower servants, and members
of the staff to pass, but those folk were restrained in their actions when
compared to the crowds outside. Eyes tracked the pair of men as they continued
inward and upward but no one dared to interfere with their progress.
Runners must have preceded them. Normally when Aragorn returned from wandering
the countryside everyone left him alone until he was cleaned up and once more
clad as the king of the Realm. This time both Arwen and Faramir were waiting in
the public room of the royal suite.
Up until this very moment Aragorn had still held out a faint hope that he would
awaken from this dream of Boromir's return. The sight of his lady-wife destroyed
that thin sliver to dust. Arwen had never, ever been present in Aragorn's
haunting dreams of Boromir. All four of them stood practically frozen in place.
For the very first time since he had drawn Boromir from the river, Aragorn
finally felt that every bit of Boromir's attention was elsewhere.
"It really is you, is it not? I did not dare to hope the news was true." Faramir
was the one to break the tableaux. He was the one to throw himself across the
gap between them. "Brother!" Their embrace appeared almost bone-crushing in its
intensity. Boromir clung desperately, as if Faramir was his only salvation
against disappearing beneath the water once again.
While the brothers hugged, Arwen padded over to her husband's side. One of her
arms wrapped around Aragorn's waist and she leaned lightly against his shoulder
and chest. A gentle smile curved Arwen's lips. "Again you make our steward
wondrously happy." Her tone was a light tease. "You have saved his life,
preserved Éowyn's as well, made him a Prince, restored the glory to Gondor...
and now you return his brother to him. Is it any wonder that Faramir loves you
almost as much as I do, my beloved Estel?" Arwen's small hand squeezed his. "I
would hear the tale of how you accomplished this new wonder, beloved. Let us
leave these brothers to each other for a time." Moving, Arwen drew Aragorn
along. She paused only briefly to touch Faramir's shoulder. "Call us when you
are ready to share this newly recovered treasure, dear one." Not waiting for a
response, Arwen moved to leave, taking Aragorn with her.
For his part, Aragorn continued to stare at the two embracing men until the
door's closing blocked them from view.
Eventually Faramir backed off as much as Boromir's frantic grip would allow.
Raising his hands, Faramir cupped his brother's face so he could stare. "You
are so little changed... even to the sorrow in your eyes, save for... What is
this?" Faramir's fingers made as if to touch the mark of gold on his brother's
forehead.
The action caused Boromir to release and push at Faramir, preventing the
contact. He wasn't certain if anyone could shock him through the mark like
Aragorn had, but he was unwilling to chance it.
A fleeting look of betrayal passed over Faramir's face as he caught his balance.
"It pains me," Boromir explained, not quite lying, although he realized that the
dull ache from the gilded spot had lessened dramatically within the last few
moments.
"I should fetch Elessar back again. He is a great healer. He saved the lives of
myself and Éowyn." Faramir frowned. "Did you not tell him that you were in
pain?"
"It is nothing to bother him with," Boromir countered. "So long as I do not
worry at the skin thereabout." Part of him cursed internally at not seizing at
the opportunity to be in Aragorn's company yet again, but Boromir wasn't
prepared to take up the struggle again so soon. Every moment he spent in
Aragorn's proximity tore at Boromir's strength of resolve. Boromir had to
constantly remind himself that he could not just throw himself at the other man,
letting honour and commitments be damned. Losing himself in Aragorn's body would
certainly quiet the raging tornado of thoughts inside his mind for a brief time,
but eventually their bodies would be satisfied and the problems that sex would
postpone would return redoubled because of the lapse.
"Oh Boromir." Faramir closed the distance between them once more to catch hold
of his brother's shoulder. "I have questions and years' worth of news to share
with you, but it all pales before this heavy sadness I see in you." Faramir
searched the other's face. "Where have you been? I was certain of your death and
your companions told me my vision was true. What evil held you away from us,
Boromir? Can you speak of it, or is that what lies so heavily upon you?"
"I have no answers." Boromir was suddenly too tired to hold his feet. He
practically collapsed into a nearby chair as soon as he reached it.
Faramir's expression grew even more concerned. "I must fetch Elessar."
"NO!" The protest was edged with panic. Boromir's palm lifted. "Be not so quick
to leave my company, little brother. I am told that, of all I cared for in the
world, you are one of the only things remaining that I may hold to. Stay with me
and tell me what has passed, and I will share what little I know of where I have
been," he bargained.
Faramir went to his brother's side and knelt. His touch flickered over Boromir's
tunic. "I saw your funeral boat, at least I thought I did." Finding the rents in
the leather that the orc arrows had left, Faramir frowned more deeply. "You are
still dressed the same as in my vision. I remember every detail. It branded a
mark into my soul." His touch drifted to the belt Boromir had received in
Lothlórien. "Father never recovered from the news of your passing. He would not
be consoled. Father told me, he made it clear... he would rather I had died than
you." A sigh gusted out. "I tried my best, fought my hardest but I fell before a
black rider and was little use at the very end. I thought for a time I would
join you. I would have welcomed the reunion, Boromir. It would have been a
relief... but Elessar called me back."
"I am sorry... for everything," Boromir whispered. "I was trying to do right by
Gondor. I thought at the time that I had chosen the best path. Perhaps I should
have let the others see to Frodo's safety. Perhaps I should have come straight
home as soon as the ring was in motion. Aragorn..." Boromir hesitated and
corrected himself. "Our king tells me in the end the war was won, but I might
have spared a great deal of grief for many if I had chosen more wisely, taken a
different path at any point along the way." He leaned back in the chair.
These were Father's rooms, Boromir finally realized. The changes in decoration
had delayed him from recognizing them. Turning his head, he could see the
bedroom door. Aragorn and his Elven bride likely shared these rooms now.
Boromir's own suite had, no doubt, been occupied by another long ago. Perhaps
his brother, the Steward of Gondor and Éowyn, a woman once considered as the
leading bride prospect for Boromir himself, now inhabited Boromir's old rooms.
"I have no place here," Boromir blurted out the realization. "I have no reason
to exist."
Faramir's palm pressing against his brother's cheek broke into Boromir's
thoughts. "What absolute nonsense. I could give you a whole list of reasons
you're not only welcome, but needed... the first of which is that you are my
brother," Faramir reminded. "No one else can say that, Boromir." A sigh escaped
the kneeling man. He studied his brother's face. "When did you last eat, or
sleep?"
"We ate on the road to Minas Tirith as we walked. I slept..." Boromir hesitated,
trying to recall the answer. "I slept on the shore of the Anduin, well back of
the falls of Rauros, after my turn at watch... eight years ago, I am told." The
last few words were bitterly spoken.
Faramir smiled adoringly. "Then you are past due for a rest. Elessar will need
to return here to clean up before long. Come to my rooms. Éowyn remained home in
Emyn Arnen with the children this visit so I am alone. I have more than enough
to share with you, brother." The offer was spoken passionately.
Boromir had to swallow a protest. He loved Faramir dearly, but Boromir had no
desire to become a dependant of the little brother he had cared for since
childhood. Still, he was weary, in every possible sense of the word, and Boromir
was certain he would be more secure in Faramir's company than anywhere else in
this strangely altered world. "Things have changed too much since I last walked
these halls," Boromir finally responded. He internally choked on the next
sentence but it was voiced smoothly enough, if a bit quietly. "I fear I must
impose upon you to guide me for I no longer know my home."
"Things have not changed so greatly as you fear, brother." Faramir stood,
pulling Boromir up with him. "For the comfort of it, I kept my old rooms and I
expect you could find your way to them with your eyes shut tight. I know I could
locate yours that way," Faramir reminded. "In fact I did many a time when
nightmares caused me to fly from my own bed."
Boromir was grateful to discover that no one stood waiting outside the door,
especially Aragorn.
There was indeed a comfort in retiring to Faramir's rooms. Some furnishings had
changed and a pair of tapestries Boromir didn't recognize dominated the walls,
but for the most part it was familiar. In that relative comfort Boromir accepted
a glass of brandy and was willing to relax.
Servants brought jugs full of warmed water. Faramir convinced Boromir to divest
himself of his well-worn travelling clothes, to clean up, and to dress himself
in some of Faramir's spare court gear. The tunic was too tight across the
shoulders and the hem rode higher than Boromir was comfortable with, but it
sufficed. At least the clothing was clean and all intact.
"You should rest. Nothing is so urgent that I can not wait to hear it when your
head is cleared." Faramir urged his brother into the bedroom.
"I fear I am not ready for the visions that will come when I close my eyes."
Boromir moved reluctantly.
"I could guard your sleep. It seems a fair trade for all those times you slew
the monsters that haunted me when we were younger."
Boromir's darker golden-brown hair shook. "Nay. I am no child. I slept eight
years and survived it. What are a few more hours?" His attempt at a laugh was
strained. "But if you would stay just a little while..." Boromir sat down
heavily on the bed. "Tell me of your children."
The grin that broke across Faramir's face practically shone. "They are the
greatest gifts a man could ever receive. My children are absolute wonders. My
girl, Tindome, is far too clever for her own good and pretty as the sunrise. The
boys are..." Faramir shook his head. "They are both the very images of their
uncles. Vandamir worships Éomer. He practically lives in the stables. Artamir is
the ghost of you at that age. He was pleading for a sword and armour at three."
Even with his heavy eyes closed to almost slits, Boromir was still listening.
Those small bits of information made him smile, especially Faramir and Éowyn's
choice of names. Faramir's voice continued to whisper across Boromir's ears but
he very soon lost the conversational thread and his mind drifted into sleep.
Returning to their rooms after the brothers had departed, Aragorn had washed up
and slipped into a clean tunic and breeches but he hadn't managed to leave his
and Arwen's suite again. Slumped in one of the sitting-room chairs, his keen
senses seemed to still be able to detect Boromir's presence in the air.
Arwen had allowed him some time alone while she had tended to immediate concerns
about the Tower but she had since returned. His wife now perched on the chaise
across from Aragorn with an expectant expression on her face.
"Are you ready to share the rest of the story with me now, beloved, or do you
need yet more time?"
Aragorn sighed and leaned back, settling his head on the padded wood. "I think
there is strong magic mixed in this Arwen, and not all of it has to do with
Boromir's preservation and return." The smouldering heat that Aragorn felt in
the back of his mind had eased slightly over the last few minutes, but as
Aragorn was catching his breath, his thoughts were enflamed once again. A vision
of himself lying on the bank of the Anduin assaulted Aragorn. He could actually
feel Boromir crawling up his sprawled form, breath gusting against bare skin.
Aragorn gasped and arched slightly in his chair before regaining control. He
forced himself upright, his posture was statue stiff.
"What ails you, love?" Arwen's smooth brow wrinkled in puzzlement. She was out
of her seat and kneeling at her husband's side instantly. "You have always been
able confide in me."
Sword-calloused fingers rose to trace the line of Arwen's face. Aragorn's
expression was pained. "Feelings that I can not control... that do you wrong..."
Sensation pierced Aragorn again and he shivered. He felt Boromir's mouth against
his own as clearly as he felt Arwen's jaw under his fingers.
A rap at the door moved neither of them. After another, louder, knock Faramir
let himself into the royal suite's sitting room, as had become the custom
between them over the last few years. "Boromir is asleep," Faramir announced
before realizing that he had walked in on a rather intimate pose. "My
apologizes. Excuse me." He made as if to withdraw.
"Faramir! Stay," Arwen called out without changing her position. Her gaze had
remained locked on Aragorn's face. Her hands resting on her husband's knees. "Is
this something you could better share with your steward than me, my love?"
Moving his head only slightly, Aragorn gazed at Faramir. "Boromir dreams." The
words were an odd mixture of statement and question.
"Most likely." Faramir's response was just as tentative. "His brow was paining
him. There is a strange mark on his skin that I suspect needs some attention."
Aragorn's lips and fingertips tingled. "I noted it." A sigh whispered out of
Aragorn as his strangely doubled perceptions wavered. Teeth grazed his jaw and a
tongue tormented even as Arwen clasped his hand. "I feel Boromir." Blunt
admission seemed the only course of action to Aragorn. He couldn't seem to
ignore the touch and visions that were taunting him. Aragorn couldn't properly
function, not while they were assailing him.
"I don't understand." Faramir's features reflected his confusion.
Aragorn cupped Arwen's face. "You know I have had dreams." He had never
described them to her, but his wife couldn't help but be aware of them since
they shared a bed most nights. Aragorn shot a quick glance in Faramir's
direction. His smile was pained. "Over the years I have dreamed of Boromir...
almost every night as of late."
"He called you to rescue him?" Faramir asked. A hurt tone tainted his voice.
"Why you and not me?"
"He called to me," Aragorn whispered. "But it wasn't about rescue. I had no idea
that he was still alive. My dreams were about..." The explanation trailed off
unfinished.
"My husband's dreams..." Arwen took over the line of thought. "Have been of a
sensual nature." She leaned into Aragorn's touch, gazing up. Her eyes searched
his face. "Is that what troubles you now, love?" The glaze that clouded his
expression had to be obvious to Arwen.
"I am sorry, Arwen." Aragorn closed his eyes to veil the arousal glittering
there.
Faramir, looking stunned by the revelations, took a step backward. "Perhaps this
is something best kept private between a man and his wife."
"I apologize if this bothers you, dear one... but it seems that you must share
in this secret, Faramir," Arwen corrected without looking his way. "Our king
will be..." She hesitated, seeming to carefully consider her choice of words.
"Troubled... until this matter is resolved. You and I will have to make
allowances. Boromir's well-being is also a concern in all this and I expect you
are best suited to look out for him."
Faramir nodded silently.
"I am surprised you chose to return home so quickly." Arwen covered her
husband's caressing hand with her own. "I suspect that you considered handling
this matter between yourself and Boromir... out in the wild, without all the
concerns of Gondor cluttering your mind and demanding attention. Still, I am
relieved you trusted me to share this with you."
"Boromir." Aragorn swallowed, his eyes still tightly closed. "Needed to come
home. We both did. I realize that this matter is not so personal as I first
supposed. It affects us all." With some effort Aragorn managed to open his eyes
and look at Faramir. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. "All four of us. All of
Gondor." His lashes fluttered and Aragorn shivered.
Barely a breath later, Aragorn pushed upright, freeing himself from Arwen's
touch. "Where is Boromir sleeping?" Not waiting for an answer, the king strode
over to the hallway door. "Never mind. I know." His hand was half-way to the
latch before Aragorn whirled in place and paced back to the door that led to his
and Arwen's bedroom. A huff of air escaped him, a sound of pained amusement. "In
sleep Boromir indulges in all the things he denied me on Anduin's bank. The feel
of it teases at the corner of my senses,"
Wiping the back of one hand across his damp upper lip, Aragorn leaned against
the portal. "I must ask that you excuse me for a time." Awkwardly, he reached
without looking. Aragorn practically fell through the doorway into the bedroom
when he finally managed the knob on the door and opened it.
"The mystery of dreaming minds is not something I completely understand." Arwen
rose to her feet, twitching her skirts into order. "Would there be any scrolls
in the library that might help us, Faramir?"
"I know not, my Queen, but I will look." Faramir stared at the bedroom door. It
stood ajar. "Should I wake Boromir? Would that ease Elessar's..." He hesitated.
"Distress?"
"Estel can not rule in this state. We must resolve this somehow. Set someone in
the library to researching this, although it would be best not to give exact
details of the situation if possible. The binding they are feeling worries me. I
will see to my husband. There is something I have to explain to him. Something
that will ease this pain he's feeling." Turning away was her dismissal of him.
Arwen padded over and quietly disappeared after Aragorn into their private
rooms.
It was the change in the texture of light that suggested to Boromir that
something important had been altered. The bright sunshine that shone down on the
banks of the Anduin dimmed and thickened. Boromir's position didn't change
however. He still lay flat on his back, staring up at the face of the man who
meant more to him than anyone. Even in the flickering half-light of a
short-wicked lantern, Boromir was staggered by the beauty of his king.
The mattress dipped to one side of Boromir as more of Aragorn's weight rested on
one hand and one knee. Aragorn loomed above him, a dark, disturbing presence.
"Where is my brother?" Boromir's voice was a thin whisper.
"Harassing the keepers of the library, I suspect... or perhaps tending to the
many duties that I am forsaking so I can linger in your company." His tone was
husky and his breathing was shallow. Aragorn leaned slightly lower, bringing his
face even closer to Boromir's. The move darkened the shadows that obscured
Aragorn's expression.
"And where is your queen, my lord?" A hint of desperation seasoned Boromir's
voice. He badly wanted to strain upward, but he held flat by force of will.
"Arwen..." Aragorn sighed. "My lady lay sleeping when last I saw her. Carrying
our child had made her more easily fatigued."
Boromir cringed. "You have a child coming?"
"Our second," Aragorn divulged. "The first was a girl. A lovely,
sweet-tempered..." Shaking his head, Aragorn pulled away, retreating to the
foot-board of the bed. "Damn you, Boromir! I did not come here to discuss my
wife and child." He glared.
"The queen and your children can not be lightly dismissed, my lord." Boromir
drew his legs up, keeping as much space between himself and Aragorn as the
length of the bed allowed. "I have had few affections in my life. My parents and
Faramir, the welfare of Gondor, my honour and duties... that was all I cared for
before I met you, Aragorn," Boromir tried to explain. "As much as I desire
you..." He licked his lips. "As much as the need to lay hands on you tears at my
innards... I will not sacrifice Gondor to this lust."
"I am asking for nothing of the sort!" Aragorn argued. "This has nothing to do
with Gondor. It is a private matter between you and me."
"But that's where you are wrong! Nothing the king does is private. You, your
marriage, your children. You are Gondor... and I will not endanger these lands
or people simply to ease the base desires of my weak body."
A dark smoulder kindled in Aragorn's eyes and a weary smile pulled at his lips.
"But if the welfare of Gondor is your only concern, then there is a glaring flaw
in your reasoning." Falling forward onto his hands and knees, Aragorn crawled
the short distance needed to bring his body within touching range of Boromir.
"The king of Gondor is distracted and allowing far too many of his duties to
fall upon the Queen, who is weary with child... and the Steward, who would
rather return to his wife, his children and his own tasks in Ithilien." He was
so close that Aragorn's breath stirred Boromir's hair.
"Please!" Boromir's eyes closed tightly. He wasn't certain himself what the plea
was intended to accomplish. His skin itched and his heart pounded so hard it
felt as if it would fly out of his chest.
Aragorn's voice rumbled up. "If the good of Gondor is your only objection then
this long standing taunt should come to an end, Boromir. How could Gondor
possibly benefit from our torment? Nothing good can come of the throbbing pain I
feel, of the ache you must be feeling." Aragorn's body undulated against Boromir
and he let out a pained moan. "I can see it in your eyes, Boromir. I can feel
the desperation rising off your skin. You crave this as much as I do. Please
Boromir, listen to what your body is screaming. Can you not feel how badly I
need you. Have you no mercy?"
"But Arwen..." Boromir whispered, even as he trembled with the urge to strain
upward into the contact.
"Arwen understands." Aragorn's voice cracked. "I have confessed
everything. She gives us her blessing to do this," he whispered. "Please,
Boromir. I fear if you continue to deny me I might either go mad or use force to
satisfy this aching hunger." His volume rose and a ferocity crept into the tone.
"I used to think I was a rational man, but... It terrifies me, the things I
imagine myself doing if you continue to refuse me. Would you have me fall so
far?" Aragorn's lips brushed across a whiskered cheek before ghosting near
Boromir's ear. "Over the last year there were times when I could barely keep
myself calm even though making love with you was an impossible dream. Now you're
alive, you're here with me. You have invaded my every breath, my every thought.
My body burns from the inside out. I need you. Please Boromir. I need you so
badly that nothing else matters... and I know you feel the same."
Turning his face put Boromir's lips nearly against Aragorn's. Meeting Aragorn's
intense gaze was Boromir's undoing. He couldn't contain his desires any longer.
"I knew the first moment that I looked into your eyes that you would be the ruin
of me." At the end of the whispered declaration Boromir tilted his head slightly
and touched his mouth to Aragorn's.
With a frantic groan, Aragorn took the kiss and deepened it. Boromir's knees
were seized and shoved apart so their bodies could meld together. Aragorn ground
his confined erection into Boromir's. Teeth clashed and Aragorn's lip was cut.
Freed to act by the twists of logic that Aragorn had set forward, Boromir was
frantic. He devoured Aragorn's mouth, pulling at soft lips, swiping his tongue
to taste everything and sucking Aragorn's tongue into his own mouth. Blood
flavoured the delving kiss, but that only enflamed Boromir's desire.
Breaking off the kiss, Boromir dragged his open mouth lower to taste Aragorn's
jaw, chin and throat. He could feel Aragorn's tongue wiping across skin but the
haze clouding Boromir's mind blocked the warning. When the flat of Aragorn's
tongue brushed across the mark of gold on Boromir's forehead, Boromir let out a
scream that nearly rattled the window panes. His entire body convulsed upward.
Fingers dug into flesh. Cloth tore. Boromir meant to speak, but all that would
pass his lips was a growl and even that was muffled against Aragorn's ruined
shirt.
Off to the side a door few open, crashing into the wall behind it. There was a
glint of bared steel in the candlelight. "Your majesty?" An uncertain voice
intruded.
"Get out!" Aragorn barked. "We're fine. Guard the door. No one is
to enter!" The king was shoved bodily backward as Boromir's attentions grew more
frenzied.
With the creak of leather and mail, and the drag of wood on stone, the guard
retreated from the room.
For a brief moment Boromir knelt above Aragorn, breathing heavily. Little sanity
remained in his eyes. Swooping down, the onslaught began. He tore at the
material keeping him away from Aragorn's skin. What wouldn't pull off was
shredded. Thin silk resisted only momentarily. With fingers and mouth, Boromir
set to mapping out every bit of his lover's skin.
Lips moved down, licking at Aragorn's chest. Boromir's fingers raked along his
ribs and up under his arms, tormenting until Aragorn began to twist and squirm
uncontrollably under the sensation. First one nipple was attacked with lips,
tongue and teeth, then Boromir lavished twice as much attention on the other one
before returning to the first.
Aragorn let out a strangled groan. Sparks of arousal so concentrated that they
were almost pain were firing off at every point of his skin that Boromir
touched. Wherever Boromir's mouth moved, he found himself arching up into the
contact. Sheets twisted underneath them and bits of fabric attempted to bind
Aragorn.
When Boromir's attentions alighted on Aragorn's navel, the king had to be held
down. His tongue plunged into the shallow indent, and then his mouth dragged
around and over the skin of Aragorn's trembling stomach. His teeth scraped
flesh, but the burn was quickly soothed with kisses and more licks.
Aragorn's hand shot down. Fingers tangled into tousled hair and he attempted to
force the attentions lower. The ache he was feeling had his blood thundering.
"Have mercy!" Too many times this dream had slipped away from Aragorn at
this point.
Wet heat slid downward at a painful slow place. Aragorn's hip was tasted. Fiery
breath teased skin gone impossibly sensitive. Finally, when Aragorn though he
was about to lose his mind, warm fingers wrapped around the core of his body.
Boromir paused, staring at the shaft in his hand as if he couldn't believe this
was actually happening. Agonizingly slow, His tongue extended and delicately
brushed across the slit at the end of Aragorn's erection, tasting the moisture
that had pearled up there.
Head slamming back against the mattress, Aragorn howled as Boromir began lapping
at the sticky tip, painting it with his tongue. His foreskin was pulled
carefully back and finally, Boromir's mouth closed over the head of Aragorn's
straining shaft. A groan of intense pleasure ripped out of Boromir as he suckled
at the bulb. The rasping of his tongue lashing over the head was interspersed
with twists of impossible softness as the underside of his tongue followed.
"More!" Aragorn's demand was hysterical. Fingers twisted in Boromir's
hair.
With a long exhale, Boromir's mouth opened wider. Sealing his lips to the skin
of Aragorn's hard shaft, he sucked it down. Years of dreaming fantasies fuelled
his hunger. Boromir swallowed hard, filling the back of his throat before
pulling up.
Aragorn jerked fitfully under the skilled assault. Flashes of stimulation shot
through him each time Boromir's head dropped and rose. Pressure surrounded his
balls, squeezing carefully. A callused thumb rubbed at the tender skin behind
the sack. All too soon, Aragorn felt the pressure lifting his hips and his
breath grew laboured.
A vibration low in Boromir's throat coaxed Aragorn. Boromir's nose was buried in
the dark curls that surrounded Aragorn's sex. He gulped, massaging, demanding a
release.
With a broken wail, Aragorn shuddered three times then collapsed backward, still
tearing at the thick hair he held.
Boromir had to forcibly push at Aragorn's hips to draw back his mouth. He stared
up at his lover. Boromir's eyes were bright. His lips were swollen, his chin
dripped, and his chest heaved. Holding Aragorn's shattered gaze, Boromir quite
purposefully licked his lips. "I have wanted to do that..." His voice was
gravelly. "...since the very first moment I laid eyes on you. I wanted to crawl
across the stone and bury my face in your lap the instant you raised your eyes
to mine. It was terrifying. I thought I had gone mad. I had."
Lashes dropped, sparing Aragorn from being turned to ash by the intensity of
Boromir's expression. Letting out a shuddering breath, Boromir lowered his cheek
to rest it against Aragorn's still trembling hip.
Gasping, Aragorn stared up at the ceiling. It just might have been the
frustration of years of dreaming of this that made it feel so good, but
Boromir's oral skills were devastating, better than any other lover Aragorn had
lain with in his long years. It had felt more like being sheathed in a living,
breathing fantasy than having an actual mouth upon him.
Increasingly, Aragorn became aware that Boromir's mouth was nuzzling at the skin
of lower stomach and that the bed beneath them was being jostled. A shaking
breath from Boromir made him look down their bodies. Boromir's fingers were
restlessly petting at Aragorn as he rubbed himself against the tangled sheets
they lay on.
"Come here," Aragorn urged, tugging to bring Boromir higher in the bed. "Let me
help."
Shivering, Boromir wriggled upward until he could bury his face against
Aragorn's throat, hiding his needy expression within the tangled strands of
Aragorn's hair. A firm grip surrounded Boromir's erection, making Boromir's
breath catch. At the first cautious stroke the air rushed out in a delighted
sigh.
Aragorn's fingers began to pump slowly, mindful not to hurt tender skin. His
other hand skimmed around to cup the curve of Boromir's bottom. "I won't make
you wait for satisfaction this time... but I will to have you in just a little
time. Before we leave this room I want to part your legs and bury myself in
you." The words rumbled out, making the body in Aragorn's arms tremble even more
furiously. "You'll not leave me ever again, Boromir," Aragorn murmured. "You'll
come to our bed, Arwen's and mine. You'll lie at my side. You'll straddle me,
take me inside your body while Arwen brushes the hair back from your eyes and
kisses your shoulder. She told me. I can have you both, she said." Aragorn
groaned, hardening again at the images forming inside his mind. "She says she'll
have us both." Fingers danced over flesh growing harder and slicker with every
caress, with every whispered obscenity.
Boromir's voice was an erotic mixture of breathless sighs, moans, and gasps of
overpowering pleasure. His body couldn't keep still, grinding against Aragorn's,
rubbing back into the hand stroking his rear, and thrusting helplessly into the
tunnel of Aragorn's fingers.
"I'll have Arwen at the same time you're pressed to my back, with your shaft
thrusting inside me. I want..." Aragorn's hand sped up, pulling harder at
Boromir's erection. "I want you to come for me, Boromir. Spill for me. Show me
how much you love my fingers on you and next time, I'll push them inside you."
A long, low moan from Boromir preceded a set of wracking shudders. Boromir clung
as wet heat splashed between them. Easing his touch to a bare brush of contact,
Aragorn milked Boromir dry.
"Sweet Boromir, how I adore you." Aragorn shifted. Dripping fingers lifted to
trace lips that were parted to allow panting gasps for air. When those same
fingers were sucked into Boromir's mouth and licked clean one by one, Aragorn
couldn't contain his moan of pleasure at the feelings it aroused in him.
Boromir's face rubbed against his lover, a catlike caress of cheek to cheek.
"What you said..." Boromir's voice was faint. "What your queen said... Did she
really say those things?"
Aragorn's fingers traced over Boromir's features. The extended pause was broken
by a single word. "Yes." Aragorn then moved to steal a kiss that lasted nearly
as long as all their time making love.
Faramir had been waiting impatiently for word from Arwen that Elessar and
Boromir had emerged from their self-imposed retreat. When the boy finally
brought word that the king and Boromir were in the royal suite and would accept
company Faramir ran all the way there. This knock was a far hastier action than
he normally executed. Faramir shoved open the door without waiting for a
response.
The setting inside the royal sitting room stopped Faramir in his tracks. Caught
in a shaft of glistening sunlight, Boromir stood between the king and queen of
Gondor. Arwen had a hand cupping one of Boromir's blushing cheeks and she was
brushing a gentle kiss across his lips. Aragorn was behind Boromir, his arms
wrapped tightly around Faramir's brother, his face buried in the nape of
Boromir's neck. The pose would have been better suited to the suite's bedroom,
their inner-sanctuary, a room that Faramir had never, ever entered.
"Is..." The breath he'd drawn in to speak with huffed out of Faramir. Instead he
found himself staring at the three of them with his mouth hanging open.
"Everything is fine, dear Faramir." Arwen turned gracefully in place. Her eyes
were sparkling. "We seem to have found a partial solution to Boromir and Estel's
distress... although I would still like to discover a way to ease the violence
of their binding to each other. I fear Estel will never be able to concentrate
on any of his duties for longer than an hour at a time if something more isn't
done." Her laugh was soft and without malice.
As if they hadn't even noticed that they were no longer alone in the room,
Aragorn sucked at the lobe of Boromir's ear and whispered something that made
Boromir quake and push back into the embrace he was held in.
Arwen shook her head and padded over so she stood nearer to Faramir. One of her
hands lay across her own slightly curved stomach while the other reached up to
settle on Faramir's shoulder. "Does this bother you, dear one?"
"I'm not sure what 'this' is," Faramir admitted honestly. He continued to stare
at his brother and his king. Boromir was clothed in one of Aragorn's least
favourite high-court outfits. The fit was only slightly better than Faramir's
clothing had been, but the white and gold outfit seemed a strangely appropriate
look for Boromir. Nothing could more perfectly represent Boromir than Gondor's
tree and stars, which were embroidered on the tunic.
"This..." Arwen sighed. "This is something that will make both Estel and Boromir
happy." Her rose-pink lips curved. "It is also something that I suspect both you
and I will find desirable." Her hand squeezed Faramir's shoulder. "Once the
early fury of their bonding passes... I am hoping that having your brother here
in Minas Tirith will allow you to spend more time at home with Éowyn and the
children," Arwen supposed. "While I grow heavier with child this will be a
welcome... distraction... for Estel, but once our new child is safely in the
world I fully intend to enjoy Boromir's company as much as my husband does."
Faramir's surprised expression made Arwen chuckle softly once more. She linked
her arm through his and leaned against him a moment. "Poor dear, Faramir. You
look so..." Her voice trailed off as she noticed that Boromir had turned in
Aragorn's arms and the two men were sharing a kiss that radiated heat. "I think,
perhaps, that I was premature in announcing that Estel and Boromir were prepared
for company," she reasoned. "Come, Faramir. Take me downstairs and help me find
something sweet. I want buttermilk... and grapes. We can talk after my craving
is satisfied... and you may talk with Boromir after his cravings are eased."
Turning Faramir in place, Arwen pulled him out the door.
Marked with Gold
Part II
by Carla Jane
heir return to Minas Tirith was unlike any trip
that Aragorn had ever taken in his life. The time passed both too slowly and
also too quickly to believe. It was impossible for Aragorn to absorb that he
wasn't dreaming and yet the whole trip had a haze of unreality about it. Upon
leaving the riverbank a cloak of silence fell over the two men, a silence that
mere voices didn't dare to break.
