King Elassar greeted his fellow royal friend with a feast
in his hall in the White City of Gondor. Many were invited to honor
Éomer , the ruler of Rohan. Included in the guest list were the steward
of Gondor, Faramir, and his bride Éowyn who was kin to Éomer .
The tall blond warrior king raised his tankard, and proclaimed
loudly, “’Tis good to see you in such bloom, sister of mine.
Truthfully is your husband good to you,” and his intense gaze
fell on Faramir.
Faramir felt the warmth of a pale flush suffuse his body.
Those eyes. He had often been haunted by the memory of those eyes. How
they burned when the man was aroused. Éomer tipped his tankard up to
drink heartily, and when he lowered it Faramir was entranced by the
droplets of wine that clung to those full lips until Éomer ’s tongue
darted out to capture them. Faramir’s heart sped up, and he wet
his own lips in reflex, yearning to lick wine off the other man’s
lips. That thought so excited him he felt himself swell and harden,
and he wished he could reach down and touch it, perhaps even rub it
to ease the ache. He hoped none noticed his predicament.
“Verily is he a good husband,” Éowyn smiled at
everyone and touched a hand to Faramir’s arm. “I yearn for
naught. Not even children for the bloom you remarked upon, brother,
is that of impending motherhood.”
“Truly?” Éomer , pleased for his sister, went
to her to embrace her. “Glad is my heart this evening.”
He then pulled Faramir to his feet to give him a hearty embrace and
pound him upon the back. None noticed how he held him a little closer
for a brief moment, and did not pull back before turning so his hip
brushed the arousal the other man sported that he had so clearly felt.
“A celebration, Aragorn! I will be an uncle!”
“Hear, hear!” Aragorn rose to his feet and lifted
his cup high. “To the joy of a new generation! May your future
be filled with children and love,” he told Éowyn and Faramir.
Trembling Faramir kissed his wife’s cheek, but his
arousal was now full fledged and throbbing. It ached, but he knew the
revelries would go until late in the night, and he gritted his teeth
and endured.
…
He left as the sun broke over the horizon, in need of distance and privacy.
The horse’s sides heaved when he drew to a halt by a waterfall
where the area afforded some privacy thanks to a wood. Faramir shed
his clothes, and leapt into the waters to cool down. All night the ghostly
feel of Éomer ’s hip rubbing his arousal or his arms about him
had tortured him. Now he would wash the echo of it from his body, and
rest in the sun for a while.
Unknown to Faramir Éomer had seen him leave, and knew something
troubled the beautiful young man by the hard way he rode his mount.
Dismounting he crept into the woods, and stood in the shadows to watch
the other shed his clothes. Éomer let his intense gaze caress the fine
form displayed to his gaze. Faramir may have more feminine sensibilities,
but his form was very much male. It startled Éomer to realize how lovely
he found that form. He had never before noticed the grace in a man’s
shape. The warrior-like hardness of muscle and sinew encased in the
smoothness of velvet hair and silken skin, and the bold beauty of a
man’s arousal stabbing at the air like a lance waiting to be embedded
within soft flesh. Yes, there was a poetic beauty to a man’s form.
Éomer had never forgotten the kiss he had shared with his
sister’s husband. He had never before kissed a male with such
passion. It was not like embracing a beloved friend. He could not stop
himself from tasting of Faramir’s tender mouth. The blush-blond
young male had inspired lustful thoughts within him, and once he had
tasted of the other’s lips he had felt a surge of pleasure as
never before experienced, and had craved more. Hence his playful little
rubbing at the man’s arousal last evening. When he had felt the
unmistakable hardness at the younger man’s thighs he could not
prevent himself from teasing it.
Faramir swam strongly in the pond, the light and shadows
that dotted the water caressing his bare flesh. Going to the waterfall
he stood beneath the massaging cascading of the water, and shut his
eyes. Éomer ’s mouth went dry. How beautiful he looked, his arms
out as he gave himself to the touch of the water, his head back and
eyes shut as though in utmost pleasure, and the proud up-thrust of an
arousal that defied the pounding of the waterfall to defeat it. Then
Faramir swam to shore, and reclined upon the soft cushion of green grass,
letting the sun warm and dry him.
As Éomer crept closer, silent for a man of his size, he watched
with a fascinated rapture as Faramir reached down one hand and slid
the palm over his arousal in a caressing fashion. From the engorged
tip to the base his hand ventured, and Faramir parted his legs a little
and curled his fingers around his pouch and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Éomer now stood near the naked man, and his gaze fell on the pearl of
seed that glittered at the tiny lips of the head of Faramir’s
cock. The sun cast glittery lights upon the reddish-blond hair that
was sprinkled upon Faramir’s body.
“So this is why you rode out at dawn,” Éomer whispered.
Faramir, startled, let go of his arousal and stared up at
the blond Rider of Rohan. “Do you always spy upon others?”
he shot, embarrassed to be caught by the man he had just been fantasizing
about. As he touched himself he envisioned Éomer ’s cock in his
hand, and the thrill had nearly undone him.
Chuckling Éomer moved slowly around the reclining man, his
eyes boldly pinned at that gloriously hard cock. “Tell me, sweet
Faramir, who do you think of as you stroke your lance?”
Faramir felt his whole body flush. “What answer do
you seek, my lord? That I think of your sister whom I love and would
gladly give my life for? Or of another who burns me with a lust I cannot
understand and yet am powerless to ignore?”
Falling suddenly with both hands planted on either side of
Faramir’s head Éomer stared hard into his eyes. “If it is
the lust that guides your hand then let it be guided once more. I would
watch the pleasure in your eyes, taste it upon your lips, and feel it
within your body. Is it lust, my handsome young warrior, or love?”
Breathing erratic and his heart racing Faramir realized words
would not come easily. “Lust,” he croaked, his whole body
throbbing with a primitive and taboo excitement he could not avoid.
Éomer ’s hand caught Faramir’s wrist, and led
the other man’s hand to his own cock. “Then show me,”
he ordered with a rasp. His narrowed gaze lowered as Faramir began to
stroke himself, his hand shaking. His own cock strained to be free and
touched, but he gritted his teeth and ignored the craving. He wanted
to be tortured and tormented until he could take it no longer. He wanted
to watch Faramir in pleasure, and know he was the cause of it.
“When you think of me what do you think of?”
Éomer prodded softly at Faramir’s ear before tenderly kissing
his neck. The touch so soft that the younger man moaned and shook almost
violently in reaction. With one hand he turned Faramir’s face
towards him, and let the man’s harsh and excited breathing wash
over him before he took those tender lips in a hard kiss. Faramir whimpered,
and Éomer felt his arm pump harder as he stroked himself faster. He
would soon reach his pleasure, and he wanted to see it, and feel it.
He slid his hand over Faramir’s and made him grip himself tighter
and stroke harder, still ravaging his mouth with a hard kiss, and his
eyes riveted to the man’s cock until the hips shot up, and Faramir’s
pleasure spurted over his belly.
Éomer relinquished the other man’s lips and let go
of his hand. In desperation he fumbled at his own clothes, and freed
his straining cock. His nostrils flaring he gripped himself and began
to stroke. Faramir glanced down, hungry for the sight of Éomer . Like
the rest of him his cock was long and Faramir felt a thrill that began
in his belly and uncurled to energize every limb. He wanted to touch
it, to feel the heat of it and revel in the beauty of it. He pushed
Éomer onto his back, and trailed his fingertips through the blond bush
at the base of his cock.
“You are beautiful,” Faramir whispered in awe.
“I would touch you. Nay, I would keep you and let no other lay
eyes upon you. I would ride with you to unknown lands and lose myself
in the taste of your kiss forevermore.”
Éomer panted, his eyes heavy lidded. “Then kiss me
now,” he ordered, and moaned softly when those soft lips brushed
his twice. Then the tip of a wet tongue played upon his lips and Éomer sucked it within his mouth and captured it. Faramir curled his fingers
around Éomer ’s pouch and squeezed gently, rotating the balls against
each other in a tender fashion, and felt them tighten as Éomer grunted.
The spurting of his seed was so strong it sprayed over Faramir’s
chest and belly.
Letting Faramir go Éomer lay panting still. “Never
should my sister know of this. You must continue to love her, and care
for her.”
Faramir felt a lump in his throat. Was this golden warrior
telling him they would never again be such as this? He would rather
perish slowly and painfully. Turning away he sat up, running a hand
over his belly, and glancing down to see their seed mixed as one. “I
understand.”
Éomer sat up, touched Faramir’s back, and stroked it
lovingly. “I fear you do not. I am not asking you to forget our
meeting here. I could no longer avoid your touch now that I have felt
it than I could avoid breathing. We are lovers, sweet Faramir, and we
will continue to be lovers. Now, let us wash, and frolic in the water
until we must leave.”
Heartened Faramir dove into the water, and surfaced to watch
Éomer shed his armor and clothes. All of him was long and graceful looking,
and Faramir felt his cock liven at the sight. Éomer dove into the water,
and surfaced as he pressed against Faramir. They held each other, legs
entwined, and hands tenderly stroking hair and shoulders and backs.
Faramir smiled and pressed gentle kisses to other man’s lips,
but Éomer was a hard warrior, and caught the blush-blond tresses in
a fist and devoured the tender mouth against his. As they kissed they
began to rub against each other, both moaning as cocks met like two
swords in battle. Grasping Faramir’s ass in both hands Éomer guided
him in a pumping rub to heighten their pleasure. Before long the lovers
kissed to muffle their cries as the water cleaned their love-play from
their bodies.
They rested in the sun, dressed, and shared one last tender
kiss before they returned to the White City and the façade they
knew they must play before all others. Before parting, in the stables,
Éomer neared Faramir. “Remember, sweet Faramir, that always will
I think of you as you were today even when I must be with another. Think
of me when you are with your lady-wife.” He marched off briskly.
Faramir felt that lump in his throat once more. How could
he now play the loving husband to Éowyn when he craved the taste and
touch of her warrior brother? Someone called his name, and he soon came
to the conclusion that play-acting that nothing had changed was not
so difficult. It would be more difficult to hide how Éomer made him
feel when near the man, but should anyone ask he would reply it was
the love of a brother that guided him.
