Part Two
He gasped, bracing for the complaints of old muscles. Amazingly, he felt no pain
or dullness.
In a fit of energy, Aragorn did a few star leaps into the air and whooped
loudly. He felt revitalised, exhilarated and overjoyed. He ran vigorously and
with complete abandon from one end of the beautiful clearing to the next and
came upon an enchanting stretch of river.
He started to undress as he ran and he sprang lightly over rocks to finally
dive, naked and laughing for joy, into the cool afternoon water.
An almost frenzied swim later, Aragorn lazed in the sun by the water, eyes
closed, revelling in the silence. He had not enjoyed this luxury for decades,
there were always lords, advisors, children, a loving wife or friends who
demanded his attention, usually all at once.
Just as he was dozing off, he heard the noise of boots and steel close to him
and he sprang to his feet and immediately adopted a defensive fighting pose.
A young lord stood facing him across a space of a few feet, not moving forward,
just smiling. The grin on the handsome face was infectious, the trim figure
nicely accented by finely made black breeches and riding boots; combined with a
black day tunic held tight against the well made torso with a short surcoat dyed
magenta, studded with decorative gold buttons and threads. The round shield and
heavy broadsword that Aragorn had come to know and trust during the difficult
first part of the Ring Quest, hung behind the man's shoulder and at his hip,
respectively.
It was a man Aragorn had often conjured up in his mind, sometimes with grief,
sometimes with guilt, but most often, with much pleasure and joy.
The face was clean shaven, the hair cut short to better suit this form's
youthful age, but Aragorn would have known that smile, that powerful warrior's
grace and that lean body even beneath layers of disguises.
"Boromir," he said, overwhelmed by a flood of emotion. A smile lit his face, and
a joyous laugh escaped him.
The answering chuckle was all his heart and soul could have hoped for at that
moment.
He had hoped, oh he had hoped, and he had dreamed of this moment. But he had
never dared believe—until the powerful arms enfolded him, and a kiss
was
pressed against his lips with the same longed for, and much cherished, fire,
passion and love as that night a lifetime ago in Lórien.
But there would be no refusal this time, no well chosen words of regret, no
bride to think of, no war to consider.
Aragorn, King of Man, was free at last to love, and live—in death.
"I wish Gandalf were here to explain it. As far as I can understand it, we are
immortal and we keep our most vigorous form despite the years, like elves. Not
everyone who died on Middle Earth is here though. I still have not found my
mother or father," Boromir said.
His hand, tiring of its journey back and forth across the bony collarbone,
drifted downwards through ever widening circular actions to more interesting
terrain. The other hand was held captive against the taut bare belly, fingers
intertwined with Aragorn's fingers.
"I roamed for many years as a knight errant after arriving here, aiding the
local lords in driving out orcs and other dark creatures which prey on the
populace. These rulers of small holdings are ordinary men, none of whom I know
from the songs and history of Gondor—although I suspect some have changed
their names," Boromir continued.
His hand had found a nipple, and was toying with it lazily. Aragorn shifted in
the spacious bath tub, rubbing himself against Boromir, who sat behind him, with
long beautiful legs wrapped possessively around him. He trapped Boromir's big
toe with his own big toe and second toe. Boromir wriggled his toe in response,
but made no effort to liberate it.
"After some years, a few other knights errant chose to follow me, and we rode
out of the lands of the lords and came here. It is beautiful, but very sparsely
populated. There are no kings and set boundaries here, and the peasants were
heavily distressed by a dragon. After I killed the beast they invited me to live
here and protect them. Their lord, who built this place, has vanished. I
understand he was very, very old and ready for eternal rest," Boromir said.
Suddenly the handsome man brightened, "A few seasons ago I came across Faramir,
he came to by the market during a harvest festival, and we danced and feasted
through his entire first night here. Éowyn was not with him, although
Éomer
arrived on horseback a few days later, not knowing what force brought him here.
He had been wandering around like me as well, looking for his uncle, whom he
still has not found."
Aragorn shifted his position and collected a kiss.
"I'm glad I found you so soon. I do not think I could have borne the loneliness
otherwise," he said.
"It has been a long wait for me, Aragorn," Boromir whispered.
"Hmm, very long, as it happens," Aragorn chuckled at Boromir's sudden
nervousness, brought on by his suddenly apparent arousal.
"Aragorn, are you willing?" Boromir asked.
"Always the chivalrous one," Aragorn smiled tenderly, "I wouldn't sit naked in a
tub with anyone I didn't intend to make love with."
Aragorn leaned in for a kiss, and was startled by Boromir's little growl of
desire. The hands reaching down to cup his buttocks were gentle, but the
caresses were forceful, and decidedly eager.
Aragorn felt his sex swell and he didn't resist as Boromir pulled him into his
lap. Aragorn gasped at the friction when Boromir thrust against his sex with his
own eager member. Aragorn moaned with pleasure and rocked his hips in rhythm
with Boromir's thrusting.
Boromir stroked Aragorn's opening, then hooked a finger slowly in as the tight
ring of muscle relaxed.
Aragorn groaned into his lover's mouth, his grip on Boromir's back and hair
tightening. The finger was exploring him in an entirely unfamiliar, but not
unpleasurable way. His sex surged as a second finger found its way inside him,
and his opening spasmed around the probing digits that were spreading him.
"Alright, love? Does it hurt?" Boromir asked, his voice hoarse with desire and
tenderness.
"Oh, yes," Aragorn sighed, but the way he said it only further fuelled Boromir's
lust.
Aragorn gave Boromir a last greedy kiss, and then shifted his position in the
tub, rising slightly on his knees.
"You'll have to lead me, Boromir, I have never shared this with a man," Aragorn
said.
Boromir, overwhelmed at the treasure he was about to receive, could only gaze
into those bewitchingly lovely green eyes and nod wordlessly.
Aragorn held the sides of the tub, and let Boromir shift into position. He felt
the man's knees against his back for a moment, and then hands on his hips,
pulling him down onto the engorged sex.
Aragorn hissed as the head penetrated him, and the pain was so incredibly pure
and so beautifully intimate, that his strong limbs trembled, and his grip on the
tub tightened.
Boromir soothed him with little kisses along his neck and face, licking the
small furrow now forming between his brows.
Aragorn started to help Boromir inside him, rocking slowly, with each gentle
motion taking more and more of the sex inside him. He groaned and whimpered, and
his soft noises of submission tore at Boromir's self control.
Suddenly, a burst of pleasure tore through his body and Aragorn cried out. His
opening clamped down in protest on the intruding organ as it withdrew, but
opened readily again upon its return, as the thrusts repeatedly caressed the
secret centre of Aragorn's pleasure.
Boromir wrapped his arms around him as he took him, with a fierce, driving
rhythm that was as much claiming as it was loving. Aragorn allowed Boromir to
take him, not able to do anything but submit this first time, although he would
learn to invite and encourage as their passion matured.
Boromir climaxed with a cry, filling Aragorn with warm, rich seed.
They cuddled, entwined for long moments.
Boromir nuzzled Aragorn's neck and ears, blissfully sated. It took him a few
moments to realise the insistent throbbing of his lover's sex against his
stomach, where it was still held captive.
Boromir gathered a breathless Aragorn into his arms and rose from the water.
Aragorn gave a little impressed ooh as Boromir carried him to bed—the king
knew he was not a light load.
He was laid down with supreme tenderness on soft furs. Boromir, the edge taken
off his own lust by the pleasure of their earlier coupling, took his time
savouring Aragorn, his taste, his responses, even his scent.
Aragorn's cries were sweet encouragement to him, and he almost chuckled with
glee when he took the warm explosion of seed deep in his throat. After a few
more licks and kisses, Boromir reluctantly left the flaccid and happy sex to
settle on Aragorn's tight belly.
He cuddled up to Aragorn, kissing a high cheekbone.
"My brother," he kissed the jaw.
"My captain,"he kissed an ear.
"My king,"he kissed a shoulder.
"My love,"he kissed a nose.
Aragorn was giggling now, not caring in the least how silly he sounded, he was
so indescribably happy.
"My heart,"he kissed an eyebrow.
"My everything," he kissed the lips.
"I love you too," Aragorn said, snuggling into him, marvelling at how comforting
it could be to press up against such hard muscle.
"You do realise that, after tonight, I will have to marry you," Boromir said.
Aragorn drew back and peered into the handsome face. It was a joke, but one that
masked a very real hope, and a very sincere love.
Aragorn closed his eyes and sighed softly, touched beyond words.
"Of course," he said, looking up, his heart singing with joy at the smile on
that beloved face, too long gone from his vision. He had to remind himself that
this was real.
"I would have it no other way," he continued, touching his nose to Boromir's
with a happy wriggle.
"Although, Boromir, I will never wear a wedding ring,"Aragorn smiled.
They both burst out laughing.
End
Embracing Sons of Gondor
by Dayast Joy
ragorn came awake with a start and sprang to his feet.
