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27 March 2007 | 909 words
Title: Celebrating in Style
Pairing: Aragorn / Faramir
Table/Prompt: 20_est_relships – 1. Celebration
Word Count: 857
Summary: Aragorn and Faramir celebrate the King’s coronation.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they belong to Tolkien, I merely like to borrow them for my own pleasure
Celebrating In Style
A hand grabbed him from nowhere, pulling him discreetly down one of the many winding corridors. He did not mind for a moment and would willingly go wherever the figure chose to take him.
He did protest however though somewhat half-heartedly as he was guided into a room and instantly pinned against the wall, the arousal of his companion evident by the hardness he felt pressing against his hip.
“Aragorn, we cannot. There is no time; we have to join your guests in the Great Hall… And anyway, what if someone comes to find us?”
“Then they will get a real treat,” purred the newly crowned King of Gondor. “Besides, you should have thought of that before you dressed so appealingly.”
“I am tired of guests and fake smiles Faramir,” he added, his fingers trying to undo the buckles of the younger man’s armour.
“Well, I do like the way you choose to celebrate,” replied Faramir with a grin, closing the gap between them and catching Aragorn’s lips with his own.
Instantly Aragorn tried to deepen the kiss, but to his frustration Faramir pulled away far too quickly.
“But your subjects are waiting, and you would not want to disappoint them,” said the Steward teasingly, and then purring seductively in his lover’s ear he added, “Later, my love, I promise.”
With that he walked out of the room, fastening the buckles Aragorn had managed to undo leaving his king alone and growling in frustration.
The evening past slowly for both of them, full of polite conversation and well wishes.
Every so often Faramir would catch Aragorn’s eyes upon him. He felt terrible for walking out on him earlier, but he knew from experience that if they had given into temptation then, they would never have stopped and the last thing he wanted was for the king to make a bad impression on his first day, like he probably would. He had lost count of the number of times he had disappointed his father by making a fool of himself in front of important diplomats and councillors. Faramir promised himself that he would definitely make it up to the older man in the privacy of their chambers that night.
Aragorn found that he could not stay angry at his lover for long. After all, he had been right as usual; their status dictated that they would be missed. It did not help with his frustration however that, Faramir was looking even more handsome than usual, an act he had previously thought impossible. And he found that he could not even get close to the young man; there always seemed to be someone demanding his attention and a whole host of women trying to catch the eye of his lover in hope of a dance.
It was not that he mistrusted Faramir. That was certainly not the case. It was just that he hated the thought of anyone looking at his lover in that way. All he wanted to do was to whisk Faramir away from the lust-filled eyes he seemed to attract so obliviously.
The evening had dragged on way into the night and Aragorn had grown restless of the company. It seemed as though Faramir had managed to slip away hours ago. When finally he could excuse himself he hurried to his quarters, desperately trying to get to the one person he had wanted to be with all day.
The sight when he got there caught his breath; his lover lay there on the bed, the fine clothes removed to display his creamy white skin and his well formed muscles. He looked more peaceful than he had done for a long time, and he had a faint smile on his lips.
Aragorn smiled as he noticed that his lover had clearly fallen asleep while waiting for him to arrive, and quietly removed his own clothing before slipping into the bed beside Faramir and covering them both with a sheet, all the time trying not to wake him.
Temptation soon got the better of him however, and he set about placing gentle kisses on Faramir’s face and neck, wondering how long it would take for the younger man to stir.
The answer was not long. Faramir woke instantly to Aragorn’s touch, and cursed himself for falling asleep when he had promised his lover so much tonight.
He soon set about making up for it by doing all the things that he knew the older man loved.
Aragorn was not at all disappointed; he knew that he would never get enough of Faramir’s touch. It always started off shy, as though Faramir was worried about being rejected, though how anyone could even consider saying no to Faramir he could not imagine, and then the movements gradually became bolder and more confident, yet always remained gentle.
It was nearly dawn when they settled down to finally sleep, Faramir tucked contentedly in Aragorn’s arms, his head resting against his lover’s chest.
“Are you happy, my love?” he asked softly.
To which Aragorn smiled, squeezed him gently and said joyfully “That was the exact celebration I had in mind.
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The following people read the story, enjoyed it, and would like to thank the author: Anastasiya , , Mel