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23 October 2010 | 1279 words
He looked rather sulky, standing there in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. He looked rather perturbed, too. Actually, he looked a lot of things, but mostly, he looked half awake, and annoyed to no end.
“What do you want?” he demanded, his voice thick and slow with sleep still. The Ranger gave him a deadpan look.
“…Why are you naked?”
The sulky, annoyed, half-asleep look on his face changed by a few degrees, becoming a sulky, slightly pissed off half-asleep look.
“Because I was asleep.”
He gruffed shortly.
“And before I fell asleep, I chose to engage in activities that required significantly less clothing than I had been wearing. Naturally, you can see how this would have been an issue, so I took them off.”
The shorter man looked as if he were about to strangle the raven haired Ranger before him.
“Sex, you uneducated dunce. I had sex. You should try it some time, Eru knows it would do you a world of good- what time is it, and what the devil do you want, anyways?!”
The first statement caught Aragorn off guard. The two had spent many months as comrades, and not once had Boromir spoken of any love interest. Legolas had often captured the Hobbits’ attention with tales of how beautiful the fair elfin maids of Mirkwood were, and every now and then, Pippin might take a mild interest in hearing Aragorn speak of Arwen. Even Sam had made mention of a lovely Hobbit by the name of Rosie Cotton. Boromir, however, simply smiled and shook his head at any query into his own love life. Perhaps this was a new love interest…?
“With who?” Aragorn asked, now mildly curious. Boromir looked slightly taken aback, rather startled really, then frowned and raised a brow.
“Why are you so interested? Never mind, anyways, he wouldn’t appreciate finding you here, so tell me what you want and be on your way.”
Aragorn shook his head, trying to regain his bearings.
“Sorry.” he said, not really sorry for anything, just looking for a way to transition into the reason he had come without the conversation getting more awkward than it already was.
“I’ve come to ask if you knew if-”
Yet again he was interrupted as Boromir was shouldered aside, and an even more annoyed looking young man stood before him. With his eyes narrowed and his arms folded prissily over his chest, he looked almost like a tawny-haired, blue eyed carbon copy of his elder brother.
“Who in Eru’s name are you?” Faramir demanded, shoulders squared.
“‘s Rag- uh. Aragorn.”
“Quiet. I haven’t asked you anything, I asked him.” His smoldering eyes and tight frown were still directed at Aragorn, who was only growing more confused by the moment.
“Yeah, well, I answered your question, and his answer will be the same as mine. Also, I haven’t done anything, so don’t even think about gettin’ all prissy at me.” There was a warning somewhere in there, but Boromir’s voice sounded neutral and impassive.
“I’m not either, but since you’re the one answering questions, perhaps you’d care to tell me what he’s doing here?” He asked tightly, still glowering at Aragorn, who was beginning to think about how absurd this all really was.
“Told you he wouldn’t like it.” Boromir apologized, running a hand through his golden mane of hair.
“One of you had better answer me, before I get really angry.”
“Faramir.” His voice was firm as he addressed the youngest man, who shot him a look that was met by one of stern reproach. Faramir relented, falling silent.
Faramir. …wasn’t Boromir’s brother’s name Faramir…?
“Thank you.” Boromir sighed, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. The faintest flicker of a smile shot over Faramir’s face at the gesture.
“Would you care to continue?” Boromir offered, rather uninterestedly. Aragorn looked defeated.
“I think it can wait until morning.” he said flatly, shaking his head. Faramir gave him a dry smile.
“Wonderful. Now I don’t feel guilty at all.”
Both men turned to stare at him.
The answer that Aragorn received was the door being shoved shut in his face, followed by the loud click of the latch, and the sound of Boromir’s exasperated, nonetheless amused sigh. Shaking his head again, he made a mental note to seek Boromir out only in daylight hours.
Having settled himself back into bed next to Faramir, Boromir propped himself up on one elbow, giving the younger beside him another reproachful look.
“He’s probably going to kick my arse for that.”
“Not if he know’s what’s good for him.” Faramir muttered darkly. Boromir gave a low chuckle.
“Have it in for him, do you?” he asked amusedly, easing an arm around the younger as he moved to nestle against his brother.
“Thought he fancied you, from the way he’d been looking at you…” Faramir grunted in a put off tone, clinging to him jealously. Boromir made a guttural sound, followed by a look of utter distaste.
“I sincerely hope you’re wrong.”
Faramir smiled, seemingly satisfied with his brother’s distaste with the other man.
“Think about something else.” He suggested.
“I suppose…” Boromir conceded, green eyes following Faramir as he slid overtop his brother, the friction caused by his skin raising more than just goosebumps all over the elder’s body.
“Tell me though… What should I think about…?” he whispered, touching his forehead to Faramir’s affectionately.
“You could think about me.” His brother breathed in reply, running his palms over his warrior’s broad shoulders and down his back, digging his nails into his shoulderblades, pressing against his ear. Boromir smiled.
“You can trust that I do that, little one…” he assured softly.
“Night and day, you can trust that I do…”
Faramir’s gaze turned to meet with his brother’s, his features twitching into a gentle smile of unadulterated adoration, reserved only for his brother. It was a look that Boromir knew well, and one he fell victim to each and every time it was given. He surrendered to that gaze, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of copper hair affectionately behind his hair, the way he had done since Faramir was much younger. With an easy sigh, Faramir turned into the touch, lowering himself against his brother. The brush of skin against bare skin raised a pleased sound from the other, which was quickly muffled by the press of lips against his own. His proceeding noises, caused by the adept deftness of his brother’s slender fingers ghosting over and caressing his most sensitive areas, were drowned against Faramir’s mouth as he slid his palms over every familiar contour and curve of the body beneath him.
Pulling away, Faramir bade his brother lay back with the press of his palm to his chest. The elder reluctantly complied, settling there with his gaze still on the fair Ranger before him. Faramir simply smiled, dragging his palm over his chest. Pressing his forehead to Boromir’s shoulder, he lowered to drag his tongue across one of his nipples, teasing the sensitive peak of flesh.
“mmph…” His elder brother groaned muffledly, arching his chest into the sensation. Faramir closed his mouth around it, now sucking gently, one hand pressed to his brother’s shoulder, the other skimming down his abdomen slowly. A wavering intake of breath hitched in the elder brother’s throat as slender fingers enclosed around his manhood, tightening just enough to make the slow pumping motions, in combination with the insistent tugging at his nipple, simply intolerable. Reaching up to drag his hand through Faramir’s hair and suppressing a rather encouraging groan, Boromir reminded himself to profusely thank Aragorn for waking him.
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