Faramir awoke with a start. The walls and air surrounding
him were pitch dark and stifling in his bedchamber, save for the swaying
flicker of the candle at his bedside and the chilly blue light from
the full moon that spilled in through the tall slits in the granite
walls on a wisp of wind. His brow was covered with a thin sheen of perspiration
and his breath came in short gasps, quick and shallow as he sat huddled
up in the scratchy wool blankets. His slender limbs were ice cold despite
the sweat pooling at the small of his back and the hollow of his neck.
He rubbed his clammy hands together as they quivered uncontrollably;
they felt just as cold as his mother's had on that day when she didn't
wake up.
Faramir shuddered at the frightening images that flashed
before his waking eyes, the pictures of his mother being silently borne
away on a bier as he and his brother stood at their father's side, teary-eyed
but with jaws firmly set so as to keep the sobs at bay.
Quickly and quietly, Faramir slipped out of his chamber wearing
only a pair of thin wool leggings and a threadbare tunic that was several
sizes too large for his skinny adolescent frame. His bare feet made
almost imperceptible slapping noises on the rock pathway that he followed
by blind memory to his brother's bedchambers.
Ever since their mother had died, Boromir had adopted the
habit of leaving his chamber door ajar so that Faramir could come to
him whenever he had another nightmare about the ghastly white pallor
of their mother's face and the hot tears that rolled freely down their
father's wrinkled cheeks as he wept in silent agony. He began the practice
when Faramir awoke screaming bloody murder in the witching hours of
the morning just a few weeks after they had interred their mother's
body. Their father, Denethor, had not sympathized with his youngest
son's grief, so it was Boromir who was left with the charge of allaying
the demons that plagued his brother's mind as he slept.
Although Faramir was now thirteen years of age, Boromir eighteen,
he still made certain that Faramir had a way to get to him, a way to
open arms and comforting words in the cold dead of night.
Boromir lay awake, gazing at the high ceiling blankly when
he heard his brother's footsteps approaching. Faramir stealthily slipped
through the cracked opening of the tall wooden door and dashed to his
brother's bedside. He stood trembling, looking down at Boromir's motionless
figure beneath the sheets with tears forming in his eyes. "Boromir,"
he whispered into the blackness, "Boromir, are you awake?"
He picked up a corner of the blanket and tugged at it gently to see
if his brother stirred.
Boromir sat up, the straw mattress rustling beneath him as
his weight shifted. "I am awake, little brother," he replied
tenderly, his voice reassuring and warm. He pulled back the coverlet
inviting Faramir to crawl in. Faramir obliged, settling down against
Boromir's right side. "What is wrong, Faramir?" he asked worriedly,
knitting his brow.
Faramir's fingers reached up and curled around the open collar
of Boromir's woven tunic, his fingernails grazing the bare skin on his
brother's muscled chest. "Boromir, I dreamt about mother again,"
he answered shakily, his voice barely above a whisper. "I feel
so cold whenever I see her face in my head, it chills me to the core."
Boromir could tell by the quaver with which Faramir's words were spoken
that his brother was pushing back the urge to weep.
Boromir wrapped his strong arms around his younger brother's
form, pulling him close so that his body heat chased away the sharp
shivers that plagued Faramir. He warded off the last groping fearsome
images that clung to Faramir's mind by nestling his nose into his brother's
wildly wavy auburn hair and left a soft kiss there as he inhaled the
sweet fragrance of wildflowers lingering from the perfumed soaps Faramir
washed with.
"It's all right, Faramir. You're safe with me now,"
he soothed, and he immediately felt Faramir's nervous spasms subside
until they ceased entirely. Now he simply held his brother closely,
tightly, intimately.
He ran his broad hand up and down Faramir's thin arm vigorously
in an attempt to restore warmth to his brother's gangly limbs.
Faramir curled up flush against Boromir, his face burrowed
in the crook of his brother's neck where it met with the shoulder. "Boromir?"
he murmured.
"Yes, brother?"
"Thank you," Faramir breathed. Then, a few seconds
later, "Boromir?"
"Hmm?"
"I love you."
Boromir's heart swelled at the utterance, fluttering rapidly
within his ribcage. "I love you, too," he whispered. Moments
later, Faramir's breathing steadied, fanning Boromir's naked chest with
the soft caresses of breath on skin. He shut his eyes and slept soundly,
never letting go of Faramir once during the long, frigid night.
Five years had rolled by since then. Many similar nights had ensued
where Faramir had come running to his brother, but had become fewer
and farther between as the two aged. Boromir often found himself lying
alone at night, feeling incomplete without his brother at his side,
keeping him warm, keeping them both warm. Each night spent without Faramir
seemed like an eternity in and of itself, the hours slowing to a grinding
halt down to the very second. Sighs and moans slicing into the dark
moved time ahead, but only by mere minutes, and Boromir would frequently
step out of his chamber and creep to his brother's a short distance
away, just to observe him sleeping soundly, finding comfort in watching
the rhythmic rise and fall of Faramir's chest and hearing the tiny noises
he made as sleep held sway over him.
Then one night, Boromir found himself caught deep in a startlingly
realistic dreamscape.
He was lying naked in a glade in a place he did not recognize,
and a clear brook babbled at his feet as he dipped his bare toes into
the rushing water. Long green tendrils hung down from the gnarled willows
lining the bank, dragging their leafy fingers through the water as it
tripped and stumbled over the cobblestones littering the streambed.
Behind him the rustle of grass and reeds as a figure approached reached
his sharp ears, but he did not look back to see who it was that was
nearing.
All of a sudden, a pair of hands came down over his eyes,
blocking his sight. Before he could react a familiar voice whispered
lowly into his ear, saying "Sit still, I'll tell you when to move."
The voice was husky and of a slightly higher pitch than his own, and
the prurience with which the words were spoken had set a conflagration
raging inside of him as the mystery person's breath gently tickled his
sensitive skin. Without removing his hands, the unknown person shifted
so that he now was facing Boromir. Slowly, with agonizing deliberance,
the stranger's lips closed the gap between his and Boromir's until the
silky skin touched airily and chastely. With equal precision and care,
the hands were taken away, and Boromir looked with lust upon his naked
brother.
That's when Boromir snapped back into consciousness with
a shout of "Faramir!" into the still, emotionless blackness.
His body was tense and the hardness in his lap did nothing to belie
the desire that coursed through his veins, the forbiddenly wanton need
he felt to reach out to his brother and love him with every fiber of
his being, making them one and whole in the most primal sense of the
word.
He always remembered that dream, and the dream seemed to
remember him, as it returned every few days to haunt him with images
of his brother in the throes of ecstasy as his mouth and hands explored
every part of Faramir. It was difficult to face his brother anymore
without recalling the indecent and lifelike pictures that raced through
his mind at night when he was all alone. Inwardly, he was thankful that
Faramir had outgrown his nightmares, because if he hadn't, there was
no telling what Boromir might have done to Faramir as they lay together
in the same bed.
Now Boromir was twenty-three years old, and already an able-bodied
and renowned warrior, the apple of his father, the steward's, eye. He
was the sparkling gem of Minas Tirith, indeed of all of Gondor's territories,
and an emerging leader of armies capable of drawing thousands to his
banner.
Meanwhile, Faramir was only eighteen and faced with beginning
training for becoming a ranger, a post he dreaded holding. However,
at least for a short while, his hours were spent avoiding his father,
retreating to hidden corners of the city where he would write prose
and sketch drawings of the beautiful landscape surrounding him. It was
here that he lost himself in solitude with only the sea of wonder that
was the world to keep him company. He crafted poetry for his brother
since he was the only true friend Faramir had ever known, but he never
shared his work with him. Faramir felt that his brother wouldn't, or
couldn't, appreciate the thought and feeling behind his writing, and
felt embarrassed whenever Boromir found him holed up in a clandestine
nook of the city. Instead, Faramir kept the writings to himself, reading
over them each night before drifting into slumber with thoughts of Boromir
fresh in his mind.
But fortune did not always smile upon Faramir, and he had,
at his father's inescapable command, commenced rigorous preparation
for his position in the troop of rangers, an elite division of the Gondorian
army specializing in forays into the wilderness. Though Faramir excelled
in his training, it never seemed like he was good enough for Denethor,
and indeed with Boromir around it was impossible to placate the steward's
exceedingly high demands. Faramir was cast aside, outshined by Boromir
and forgotten like a worn-out pair of boots that don't fit anymore.
Thus with the steward celebrating every minute triumph his
firstborn added to his list of conquests, Boromir's life was subject
to close scrutiny by his father, and with Boromir on the brink of achieving
the highest rank in Gondor, the fact that he had not yet taken a wife
was thrown into sharp relief. Of course the steward noticed this and
summoned his eldest son to speak with him right away.
"Boromir, you are going to be the High Warden of the
White Tower, the Captain-General soon, and it is time we discuss the
subject of marriage," Denethor stated matter-of-factly. Boromir
stood stock still in the middle of the drafty hall of stewards several
feet before the polished marble dais where his father sat. He was garbed
in his standard black raiment bearing the emblem of the white tree in
the middle of the chest on his tunic. Boromir said nothing and made
no outward sign that he was even listening to his father's words, his
eyes avoiding the probing stare he felt roaming over his body.
"Boromir! Do listen to me. You must take a wife and
ensure the continuation of our bloodline!" Denethor boomed, his
voice deep and ominous as it reverberated off the cold stone walls and
into Boromir's ears. He narrowed his eyes when Boromir still failed
to show any reaction. "Speak, boy!" Denethor commanded, punctuating
his words with a sneer.
Boromir breathed in deeply and looked his father straight
in the eye. "Father, I am too young yet to take a wife," he
stated levelly. "There are no ladies here that appeal to me, anyway--"
"Appeal?! You worry about that when the future of Gondor
is at stake? Foolish!" Denethor scoffed. "Do you think that
I married your mother because she was beautiful? No. I did it to maintain
the race of stewards. You will marry for the sake of duty before love,"
he spat, his voice harsh and grating on Boromir's hearing so that the
corrosive words stabbed him as they rolled off his father's sharp tongue.
"But why must I marry? Faramir is much more suitable
for marriage, he is kind and gentle, and infinitely compassionate..."
Boromir countered brashly.
Denethor laughed bitterly. "Faramir? Clearly you jest.
That boy is little more than an excuse for a son, inadequate in every
way imaginable, and even in ways I never thought possible. He is weak
and infantile, and he is well aware of his consistent failure. Do not
insult me by suggesting your whelp of a brother is a fit candidate to
continue our bloodline." Denethor's careworn, haggard face was
twisted into a mocking, evil smile as he let the harsh statements pass
his lips and penetrate Boromir's ears.
Boromir opened his mouth to reply but thought the better
of it and bit his tongue. He bowed lowly and stiffly before turning
on his heel and striding quickly down the corridor and out through the
tall ironbound doors.
The sparkling white stone courtyard opened up before him
as he left the hall and was enveloped in the afternoon sunlight shining
down through the broken clouds above. He wandered over to the wall past
the shrivelled mallorn tree, resting his hands on the cool stone blocks
lining the rampart. Boromir looked down at the white stone spires of
the city and out upon the verdant ploughed fields of Pelennor, and then
beyond to the glittering azure ribbon that was Anduin. Far off were
columns of smoke floating up from Osgiliath.
He sighed heavily, turning over the words just spoken to
him by his father in his head. Boromir adamantly did not wish to marry,
but he did not know why exactly. Something strange he could not manage
to pinpoint in his subconscience tickled at the back of his mind on
the edge of conscious thought, and it held him back, keeping him from
choosing a woman to make his bride. It all came together, though, when
the very thing discouraging him from marrying came bounding up behind
him on swift feet.
"Boromir! I've been searching for you everywhere!"
Faramir quipped as he came and stood next to his brother at the rampart.
He was bouncing merrily, shifting his weight back and forth from one
foot to the other and his hand was affectionately resting upon Boromir's
broad shoulder. "I wanted to show you what I learned at target
practice today," he said, eyes dancing with excitement and his
smile warm and radiant as the sun.
Faramir's bright, youthful face fell when he noticed the
blatant distress marking his brother's features. Boromir's eyes were
solemn, his face bereft of emotion.
"Boromir, is something wrong?"
Boromir cast a look behind him at the entrance to the hall
where Denethor sat sequestered in dim shadow and barren carved stone.
Faramir followed the gaze and nodded his head knowingly. "Oh...
father. What had he to say this time?"
Boromir shook his head and returned to surveying the flat
plains before him that sprawled out to the riverbanks. "He bids
me to marry... no, I daresay he demands it," he said finally in
subdued and injured tones.
Faramir removed his hand from Boromir's shoulder abruptly
but, realizing the awkwardness of the action quickly asked "Marriage?
To whom?"
Boromir stepped back several paces and threw his hands up
in helpless frustration. "I do not know!!" The severity with
which Boromir voiced his words alarmed Faramir, and he noticed this.
Immediately he moved toward Faramir, grasping his brother's hands with
his own and running his thumb lightly over the knuckles and underneath
to the oddly soft palms. "I do not know," he repeated, this
time sounding defeated and scared.
Faramir was disturbed. He had never seen his brother show
any sign of weakness, especially where their father was concerned, and
he wondered, were those tears he saw glittering in his brother's pale
green eyes?
Despite the dire situation Boromir seemed to be faced with,
Faramir's heart thumped loudly in his chest at the pleasant feelings
Boromir's touch evoked in him, and the sensations hindered his ability
to find the right words to say in comfort to his despairing brother.
He fumbled uselessly with the syllables in his throat. "I.. erm...
uh, Bor---"
Boromir held a finger to Faramir's lips, hushing him. "Shh,"
he hissed gently. "It's all right... it is my burden to bear..."
His words trailed off as he stared into Faramir's eyes, seeing his reflection
miniaturized in the shining green pools. Boromir's eyes lingered there
for too long, and with great reluctance he looked away. Faramir noticed
the way Boromir let his gaze wander but filed the gesture away into
his memory where he had been storing various instances where Boromir
seemed to accidentally reveal a peculiar side of himself to Faramir.
Boromir swallowed the lump that had materialized in his throat
and straightened up, regaining his typical collected composure. "Well,
show me what you have learned with the bow today, brother! It always
eases my troubles to see how you get better each day." He smiled
weakly at Faramir's dazzlingly handsome face as it lit up at the proposal
of showing off his seemingly innate talent for archery. Faramir snatched
his brother's wrist and whisked him down to the lower levels of the
city.
As evening blanketed the world and the white stars came
out punching pin-holes in the blue-black sky, Boromir finally said to
Faramir "Come now, Faramir, it grows too dark to see your target!"
His mind had long since been steered from unpleasant thoughts of his
father's stern commands from earlier that day, and he had been quite
thoroughly engrossed in matching his skill with the bow and arrow against
Faramir's for the remainder of the afternoon.
"You're just using the dark as an excuse for your poor
bowmanship," Faramir teased with a laugh. "Admit it, I'm finally
better than you at something." He grinned, and his face seemed
to illuminate the rapidly darkening surroundings with its unadulterated
mirth.
"All right, very well, Faramir. I'll let you out-do
me... for tonight!" Boromir countered as he shoved Faramir forward
up the stairs as they made for their bedchambers. Quite by accident,
his gaze fell upon his brother's rump at he leapt up the stone steps,
trying to get Boromir to race him to the top.
The inexplicable stirring in his groin perturbed Boromir
as he recalled the way he let his eyes remain locked with his brother's
earlier that afternoon. His mind was steeped with snippets of the lewd
recurrent dream that had visited him for months, and Boromir wished
desperately that the bulge in his breeches would go away before Faramir
noticed. Hypnotized by his brother's inadvertantly seductive movements
as the two men ascended the stairs, Boromir did not notice that Faramir
was looking back at him quizzically once they reached the top.
"Brother, what are you looking at?" he asked suddenly,
vaulting Boromir out of his reverie. Boromir flinched and brought his
eyes up to meet Faramir's.
"N-nnothing, Faramir..." he lied. His hands began
to shake with embarrassment, and he couldn't seem to stop them. Beads
of perspiration trickled down his forehead.
"Boromir? Are you all right?" Faramir began to
walk over closer to Boromir, extending a hand to rest upon his brother's
quaking forearm. "You're shaking!" His face was marked by
alarm as he pawed at his brother's trembling hand that he now held in
his hands. "Come, you should lay down," he said as he led
Boromir to his quarters.
Boromir stiffly sat down on the edge of his mattress and crossed his
hands over the erection that throbbed there, trying to conceal it. Faramir
was away on the other end of the small room rummaging through a large
wooden chest. He withdrew several soft blankets and an eiderdown pillow
from the cache and brought them over to the bed. "Lay down,"
he urged, his voice supple and smooth as milk.
Boromir reluctantly complied and tried his best to keep his
brother's eyes from glimpsing the hardness in his groin. "Thank
you," he managed to choke out as Faramir covered him with the fresh
blankets.
Faramir placed the pillow underneath his brother's head,
and suddenly Boromir craned his neck up so that he kissed the underside
of Faramir's jaw. Faramir stopped abruptly and looked down with confused
eyes as Boromir stared back, his gaze longing and forlorn. "Boromir...?"
"Faramir, I... I'm ss-sorry," he faltered as he
turned away to face the wall. "Forgive me, I was too rash."
Boromir's cheeks started to turn crimson as his embarrassment accrued.
A smile flirted at the corners of Faramir's mouth as his
mind put together the clues to answer the riddle his mind had been striving
to unravel for months. The lingering glances, the affectionate touches,
the aversion to marriage, and now a sweet kiss... "Boromir, do
you love me?"
"Of course I love you, Faramir," he mumbled without
looking his brother in the eye.
"I know that, but do you LOVE me... I mean, as a husband
loves his wife?" Faramir's words were bold and cutting, and they
caught Boromir completely off guard.
Boromir fumbled with the words he wanted to say in reply,
but ended up babbling incoherently as he buried his blushing face into
the pillow, away from Faramir's keen eyes. Unexpectedly, he felt the
sheets roll back as Faramir climbed into bed and pressed himself against
Boromir's back. He shuddered as he felt his brother's lean body flush
against his, and he now wished he was facing Faramir so that he could
see the images he'd dreamt made into reality.
"Boromir... look at me," Faramir implored.
The mattress crackled and rustled as Boromir hesitantly turned
over and looked his brother in the eye, eyes that glimmered in the dying
sunlight and the pale sparkle of the candles that sat upon the table
next to Boromir's bed. Boromir nearly liquified at the sight of his
brother's comely countenance that was highlighted by the amber glow
of firelight. He was smiling.
"Faramir..." he whispered before his lips were
captured in an impassioned kiss. All thought and reason passed out of
his mind and he responded to the meeting of lips with a forceful, crushing
push of his tongue past Faramir's teeth. Boromir moved his hands up
to cradle Faramir's head as he kissed him, probing every corner of his
brother's mouth with precision and hunger. When the kiss finally broke,
he looked with lust down into Faramir's gleaming eyes.
"I always hoped this would happen," Faramir murmured
thickly, his voice deepened and guttural from the feelings the kiss
stirred up in him. With a gentle nod, he coaxed Boromir to kiss him
again. Boromir's mouth plundered Faramir's aggressively, and then moved
down to cover his exposed neck with wet swipes of the tongue and stinging
nibbles of teeth on the delicate skin. Faramir's breathing rapidly began
to come in staccato gasps as his arousal grew beneath the irresistable
ministrations his brother's body inflicted upon him.
Boromir tossed back the blankets as he crawled on top of
Faramir and sat up, straddling his brother's thighs. He hastily slid
off his tunic and Faramir's busy hands reached up to untie the rawhide
strings that kept Boromir's aching bulge locked within the confines
of his breeches. Boromir shuddered as Faramir's hands ghosted over his
sensitive erection, and he moaned low in his throat at the forbidden
contact finally becoming real.
Faramir unwillingly removed his hands from his brother's
breeches and wriggled his own tunic off, casting it away into a forgotten
heap next to the bed. Boromir meanwhile undid Faramir's leggings and
pulled them down, quickly ripping the gathered clothing from around
his brother's ankles before removing his own breeches and throwing them
aside. Boromir's eyes raked over his brother's nude body which lay sprawled
out before him in the dancing candlelight. Faramir's skin felt so soft
under his rough fingertips as Boromir traced them over every curve and
hollow on Faramir's slender and lithe yet muscular form. "You do
not know how long I have longed for this, Faramir," Boromir whispered
hoarsely.
"It matters not," Faramir responded with equal
difficulty. "We're together now." His body ached for Boromir
to touch him more, to venture over the hard, hot places that yearned
for attention from his brother.
Boromir was enraptured by passion, and without another word
he began to plant sloppy kisses down the middle of Faramir's chest and
abdomen as he made a straight line to the throbbing erection Faramir
now had. His engorged organ twitched as Boromir's tongue wrought firm
licks at the base of the shaft, and Faramir mewled unabashedly at the
thrilling contact.
Urged on by his brother's reactions, Boromir stroked his
tongue up the underside of Faramir's erection, leaving a shining line
of saliva on the hard flesh. Faramir's hips were quivering and bucking
frantically and unevenly as Boromir tried to pleasure his brother. Unsure
of what exactly he was supposed to do, Boromir wrapped his lips around
the purplish head of Faramir's erection and slid his tongue around the
surface, gratefully lapping up the beads of precome that weeped out
of the slit. Faramir's groans increased in frequency and volume, and
Boromir continued the action since it seemed to please his brother.
Boldly, he brought one hand down to knead his brother's balls tenderly
and carefully so as to not hurt him while his other hand remained on
his brother's chest where he used his fingers to tweak and tug at Faramir's
silken nubs.
The touch of fingers on Faramir's balls caused the younger
man to shudder and moan Boromir's name low in his throat. Growing more
confident with each passing second, Boromir relaxed the muscles in this
throat and took more of Faramir into his mouth, never ceasing the licks
on the shaft or the continuous suckling on the head. The wet slapping
noises of Boromir's tongue and lips on his organ made Faramir writhe
uncontrollably.
Waves of heat began to wash over Faramir as Boromir continued
to orally assault his member, and he grabbed for the blankets, curling
his fingers into the fabric as he felt his orgasm coil and uncoil deep
inside of him. "Boromir... oh! Yes!!" he simpered as his brother
worked tirelessly to bring him off. Boromir took even more of Faramir's
length into his mouth and stroked the base of Faramir's shaft roughly,
dragging his fingers through the springy pubic hairs. With a final push
of his thumb into the cleft between Faramir's balls, Boromir felt his
brother's body go rigid as Faramir unleashed his cream into Boromir's
mouth.
Boromir did not stop licking and sucking until he had milked
out all of Faramir's seed, swallowing every last drop of the precious
salty fluid in earnest. Faramir went limp and laid panting on his back,
his eyes half-lidded from post-orgasm.
Boromir crawled up and recaptured Faramir's lips in a sticky
kiss so that his brother could taste himself on Boromir's tongue. Faramir's
eyes snapped open as he took in the salty-sweet taste of himself, relishing
it, and he felt his groin stir with renewed passion.
Boromir's erection pressed up against Faramir's trim thigh;
it was a hot and velvety shaft of hardness like a firebrand against
his skin. "Boromir..." he murmured as Boromir trailed hungry
kisses over his chest. "Boromir, I want to feel you inside of me,"
he finished with effort.
Boromir stopped and looked his brother in the eye. "Are
you sure?" he asked thickly. Faramir's eyes were shining in the
candlelight, and he nodded fervently.
Boromir's breathing faltered for a moment as he thought out
the proposal in his head. "All right... if you're sure, little
brother," he whispered.
Faramir gave him a small, innocent smile as he turned over
onto his stomach, giving Boromir a fleeting peek of his puckered entrance
between the smooth mounds of muscle and flesh that were his buttocks.
Boromir spit several times into the palm of his hand and
rubbed his saliva along the shaft of his penis so that he could slide
with relative ease into his brother. Shyly and carefully, Boromir straddled
Faramir's thighs again and spread the two cheeks, positioning the head
of his weeping organ against Faramir's tight ring.
"I don't want to hurt you," Boromir breathed shakily.
"You could never hurt me," Faramir husked.
With those simple words of permission, Boromir plunged the
head of his penis into Faramir's entrance. Faramir gasped and whimpered
sharply at the first push, but relaxed his muscles to allow Boromir
to insert his full length inside of him. Boromir continued to thrust
inwards at an agonizingly slow pace, causing Faramir to twitch and whine
at the blissful pain the stretching of his opening caused.
Finally, with himself fully sheathed inside of Faramir, Boromir
stopped to catch his breath which was now coming in shallow, quick gasps
as his heart pounded in his chest, his pulse filling his ears save for
the pained whimpers eliciting from Faramir's lips. He allowed himself
to grow accustomed to Faramir's constricting, searing tightness surrounding
his erection, and once he sensed Faramir's breathing even out, he began
to slowly move about within Faramir's muscled walls.
As Faramir gradually relaxed his internal muscles around
the erection lodged within him, he began to feel the sharp spikes of
pleasure spiral from his backside out to the very tips of his limbs
every time Boromir's penis glossed over the sweet patch inside of him.
Every stroke on his prostate made Faramir yelp, and Boromir quickly
felt his ability to keep his orgasm bottled up crumbling. Faramir arched
his rump upwards, pushing more of Boromir inside, deeper and deeper.
Boromir angled his thrusts so that he hit Faramir's prostate directly,
and the assault sent ripples of anguishing joy radiating through Faramir's
taut body.
"Boromir, ah! Do that again," he rumbled with his
jaw clenched.
Boromir obeyed and began to feel his orgasm taking over,
causing his thrusts to become harder and more forceful as he pounded
himself as deeply as possible into his brother's slick depths. Hot tears
welled up and gathered on the rims of Faramir's lower eyelids as Boromir
slammed into him, the slapping of skin on skin audible and undeniably
arousing. Faramir's hardness was in full force again, pressed down beneath
him into the mattress as Boromir continued to impale his brother unceasingly
on his throbbing member.
Faramir gasped suddenly and sharply when Boromir hit his
prostate with several consecutive strokes, and he felt a warm stream
of seed seep out of his penis and absorb into the sheets underneath
him. At the same instant, Boromir's orgasm came crashing through as
a steaming spurt of ejaculate gushed into Faramir, coating the insides
with the creamy liquid. Boromir bit his lip but vainly suppressed the
loud cry of his brother's name that echoed against the stone walls.
Faramir's strong internal muscles squeezed and eased off of Boromir's
softening cock repeatedly, coaxing out the very last droplets of the
pearly fluid from his brother's now flaccid penis.
Slowly, Boromir withdrew himself from Faramir and collapsed
next to his brother, both of them drenched with perspiration. He delicately
kissed Faramir's glistening cheek as the desire to fall asleep pervaded
his senses. Faramir's head lolled from side to side until he turned
and rested it against the pillow, facing Boromir with a sleepy smile
gracing his youthful, glowing face.
Boromir picked up a strand of Faramir's riotously curly hair
that had fallen strewn over his brother's face. "You look so wonderful
like that," he rasped richly.
Faramir smiled again as his eyes fluttered shut and he brought
Boromir's fingers to his lips, pressing them against his mouth in a
tender, loving kiss.
The two brothers were startled back into alertness when they
heard the heavy wooden doors of Boromir's chamber swing open and hit
the walls loudly. In the entrance stood their father, his eyes smouldering
with lividity and disgust as he saw his sons entangled with each other
in the winding sheets.
"I might have known," he snarled through gritted
teeth. "Get yourselves dressed and come to my chamber." He
disappeared, leaving the brothers sitting agape in the darkness.
Both men were too shaken by the ominous command to speak,
and they dressed quickly and went to their father's chambers as if whips
were being lashed at their heels.
Boromir entered first, Faramir following him close behind.
Faramir was trembling and teetering on the brink of tears, but he tried
to mask his fear and weakness from his brother by biting his lip and
standing up straight, shoulders set apart.
Denethor's piercing gaze passed over the two. Finally, he
spoke. "Despicable! Comtemptable! I should flog the both of you
a hundred times each for this, this intolerable offense!" His voice
was grating on their ears, and they winced at the threat.
Suddenly, Denethor stood up and walked slowly over to Boromir.
He laid a hand on his eldest son's cheek, cupping the chin in his palm,
and his expression softened. "Poor Boromir. Your stupid little
brother has seduced you into the greatest shame of all," he said
with a caustic glance at Faramir. "You are not at fault here, my
beloved son, my firstborn."
Then he turned to Faramir and regarded the young man somberly.
It seemed for a fleeting moment that he was going to be clement, but
suddenly his hand was raised up and the loud smack of his palm on Faramir's
cheek was enough to make one jump out of their skin. Boromir flinched
and wanted to strike his father, but realized he could do no such thing.
Instead, he protested verbally, "No, father, don't! Stop!!"
He rushed to Faramir as he fell to the floor and stood halfway between
Faramir and his father.
Faramir was doubled over on his knees, cradling his head
in his hands as blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. His shoulders
shook silently as he began to weep bitterly.
"Do not deign to tell me what to do, Boromir!"
Denethor bellowed. He stressed Boromir's name with a kick of his boot
into Faramir's side, sending the young man toppling over into a shivering
heap on the cold floor.
Denethor stood, tall and threatening, over Faramir's bent
and broken figure. "You are forthwith exiled from Minas Tirith
for ten years, Faramir. You are to go to Ithilien where you will hone
your skills as a ranger, though I expect you will not survive the first
skirmish with a marauding band of orcs. What a blessing that would be!"
Faramir was sobbing loudly now as his sentence was given to him.
Boromir cried out in protest, but Denethor raised a hand
to silence him. "If within the first year you manage to scrape
by alive, then you may return to the city for the annual feasting, but
after that you must go back to Ithilien and serve out your sentence."
Each word fell as a hammerstroke on Faramir's heart, splitting it in
twain. Boromir's jaw fell open as tears raced down his cheeks, but no
cry was able to issue from his mouth.
Denethor turned his steely cold gaze on Boromir. "Leave,
both of you." He turned and his robes trailed behind him as he
disappeared into the inner recesses of his chambers.
Boromir immediately knelt down and scooped up Faramir in
an embrace. His tears were rolling in brazen wet paths down his cheeks
and they fell on Faramir's already tear-streaked face. He kissed away
the wetness that marred his dear brother's features despite the sobs
that wracked his body as he held Faramir close to him, wishing to hide
him away inside of himself so that their father could no longer harm
him, ever.
"Faramir, I will go with you," Boromir croaked
as he pulled Faramir even closer, pressing their bodies together as
tears flowed down their faces with renewed despair. "I will not
let him part us."
Faramir buried his face into his brother's chest, just like
he did whenever he found himself in Boromir's bed after being haunted
by a nightmare. "I love you, Boromir, I love you, I love you, I
love you..." he sobbed. The paroxysms beleaguering his body did
not slacken.
They sat, wrapped in each others' protective arms in middle
of the vast, high-ceilinged hall. Black gloom hung around them as they
wept mournfully under the banners and tapestries that hung from the
rafters, banners that hailed the essential principles that Gondor stood
for: unity, protection, and love.
"I love you and I always will, Faramir. Never forget
that."
The sounds of heartbreak echoed off of the impenetrable stone
walls until they died away into deathly silence.
END
