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Family Honor (NC-17) Print

Written by Mcguffan

14 July 2006 | 162886 words

Chapter 5b

Inactivity was not something Strider submitted to easily. Thus, three hours later found him loitering about outside the pavilion of the last of the great tribal representatives Faramir had been scheduled to visit. He had followed Faramir’s progress as the young man went from one representative to another, watching from the shadows. After every encounter Faramir appeared quite composed. Strider could not detect anything in the young man’s manner that would indicate that he had had a bad experience. The ranger was gratified but not surprised. Faramir was his own worst enemy and if the young man could overcome his own doubts then success would come easily to him. Understanding the anguish of uncertainty from his own experience, Strider had become very protective of Faramir in the relatively short time they had known one another. Thus, he had to remind himself constantly that, though it was tempting to urge Faramir to confide in him, it would be wrong to allow Faramir to tell him anything of the great affairs of nations and their rulers that it would be inappropriate for a simple ranger to know. This was especially frustrating since Strider had some experience of politics and knew he could be a bigger help to Faramir then he currently was. As the ranger lurked, considering the vagaries of fortune he finally saw Faramir emerge from his final meeting. Strider followed the young man and his two guards for several minutes before breaking cover and hailing them.

“Hello Strider, I am very glad to see you.” Faramir greeted him warmly as the ranger fell into step beside him. Strider touched the young man’s hand briefly but did not speak as they made their way back to their own camp.

“Well, I didn’t start any wars.” Faramir announced proudly, once the two men had reached the shelter of Faramir’s tent.

“Congratulations.” Strider returned with a smile.

“The Variag representative barely tasted his wine before speaking the formal words of parting, but some of the others were very polite. They seemed curious about me and Gondor and they said they looked forward to our next meeting.” Faramir said, removing his cloak and folding it carefully. Strider could not help but notice that the younger man’s cheeks were a little flushed and that his movements were slow and deliberate.

“The tribes that showed me the most courtesy were the ones furthest west. I think there must be some formula where a tribe’s affability is inversely proportional to their distance from Gondor.” Faramir chuckled a little and the ranger raised an eyebrow.

“Strider,” Faramir said moving to the ranger and putting his arms about his neck. “I think I might be just the least little bit drunk. I didn’t say or do anything foolish, though.” Faramir said hurriedly. “I think I was too nervous to feel the alcohol until now. It all seems to have hit me at once, though.”

“I’m sure you were the model of decorum.” Strider reassured, kissing Faramir’s forehead before leaning down to cover the younger man’s lips with his own. For a while neither man spoke more as they kissed. Faramir’s passion was especially unrestrained as the effects of the liquor seemed to dissolve the few lingering inhibitions he had about lavishing all the fierce affection he had upon the older man.

“Earlier today you said you would… You said that you would make love to me.” Faramir had turned his head just enough so that he could whisper. “Did you mean it? Will you?”

“Yes, Faramir. If that is what you want, yes.” Strider’s words seemed to resonate in Faramir’s own chest and he rocked gently with the sound, even as Strider pulled the young man firmly against him.

“Yes, I want that so much, so much.” Faramir felt dizzy, overcome with desire. He clutched at Strider’s hair, at his shirt, at any part of him he could reach and hold, all the while, pressing kisses everywhere. Soon they started tugging at each other clothing, needing to feel flesh against flesh. Together, they started moving towards the blankets.

Strider thought he should be careful since Faramir was still dressed in formal attire. As he slowed the frantic motions of his hands that sought Faramir’s bare skin, however, Faramir pleaded: “It can be mended if it tears. Please, hurry.” Unable to resist the desperate urgency of the younger man, Strider quickly removed the velvet tunic heedless of the buttons he had yanked loose. Strider’s own shirt hung open at this point and the two men were finally able to touch one another.

The warmth of Faramir’s body was both soothing and invigorating and once more Strider leaned down, giving Faramir a kiss that was alternately savage then gentle. Gratefully accepting the ranger’s kiss, Faramir felt all his conscious concerns dissolve. His mind, already relaxed in a gentle haze of alcohol, seemed to melt beneath the all-conquering assault of Strider’s lips and tongue. Something was starting to shift inside him. The dream fragment he had experienced the night before replayed itself before his eyes. Then, like a final puzzle piece sliding into place understanding came to Faramir. The kiss ended.

“I know you.” The voice was soft and hushed. “I know you, my lord, my king.”

Regret and a trace of dread gripped Strider’s heart and he released his hold on the now completely passive young man taking several steps back. He had planned, should this moment come, to deny it. If Faramir persisted then he believed he could tell the young man about Thoringil, thus sacrifice a small truth to conceal a greater. As he looked into Faramir’s eyes, however, he knew that all denials would be useless. There was in the young man’s gaze a look of triumph mixed with awe and even fear. For a moment Faramir swayed then his body seemed to fold starting at his knees and moving up to his waist. Both of his palms were pressed to the earth. Kneeling, Faramir still gazed up at Strider until slowly he bowed his head and then finally he let his eyes drop.

“Faramir, dear one.” Strider said sadly, dropping to the ground beside Faramir and lifting the young man’s chin. Two silver lines carved a path down the young man’s cheeks as tears overflowed his shining eyes.

“Don’t Faramir, don’t.” Strider pleaded wiping the tears away with callused fingers.

“Forgive me, I should have known from the beginning. I should have seen.” Feeling unable to do anything else, Strider collected Faramir against his chest holding him. The young man gave no resistance, his eyes still bright with awe and love.

“I am no king. You know that, Steward’s son.”

“The Steward’s task is ended just as a candle, lit for the night, is extinguished at the sunrise.” Faramir answered quietly. He felt overwhelmed. He could not, would not move from Strider’s- No! the King’s arms. It was so wonderfully warm and safe and yet Faramir felt as though he should still be kneeling or making some other sign or demonstration that he knew his place, that he knew what honor was due his lord and master.

“The dawn has not yet come.”

“No!” The word came out as a half sob. Faramir clutched his king’s arm in supplication He had been searching all his life for the king, though until this moment he had not known what it was he was looking for. There was a raw, emptiness inside him that the man calling himself Strider had filled perfectly. He could not lose him. It would be more than he could bear.

It broke Strider’s heart to hear the desperation in Faramir’s voice, to feel the desperate pressure of Faramir’s fingers kneading his arm. Anger and recrimination would have been easier to bear than this. The ranger pulled Faramir even closer to him needing to receive comfort as much as give it. “If I were to come, this day, to Minas Tirith and if my claim were accepted,” Strider paused a moment here to let Faramir think upon with what reaction Denethor would meet a claimant to the long empty throne. “then the dark lord, ever-mindful of his defeat at the hands of Isildur, would mount a campaign against Gondor to make trivial by comparison all that has already been endured. Gondor will not suffer for my sake, Faramir. More than that, though, there are tasks I must complete before I may feel myself worthy of my heritage.”

“Then the time of the final war is at hand. The dark lord will be thrown down and you will return to us.” A tremor passed through Faramir’s body as it rested against Aragorn’s chest and the ranger realized it was caused by excitement. Faramir believed that that was exactly what would happen.

“It may be so.” Aragorn could say nothing more definite. He lacked the younger man’s faith.

“What can I do, my lord? The gauntlet, that must be very important. You should not have to fight for it. I shall get it for you. What else, what else can I do?” Faramir had shifted in Aragorn’s arms, so that he was holding one of his king’s hands to his lips and speaking urgently against his knuckles.

Feeling awash with guilt at his own inadequacy but also grateful beyond words for Faramir’s obvious love and devotion, Aragorn took the younger man by the shoulders. Carefully, he moved Faramir a little away from him so that the two men were sitting facing each other. He did not wish to separate from Faramir but it was too difficult to think clearly with the young man so close. “You are doing the most important thing that can be done, dear one. You are making understanding possible between east and west, helping to unify men. You must not show too much interest in the gauntlet lest others be drawn by your attention.”

“Very well, if that is your will. But there must be some way I may serve you, my lord.” Away from his king’s warmth, Faramir suddenly became conscious that he was naked from the waist up. Drawing his arms around himself, Faramir allowed himself to lift his eyes to his lord. How could he have missed the truth? It was so obvious. He had seen the ranger’s features over and over in paintings and statutes around the citadel. A light shone from him, too great for any darkness. Even from their first meeting, Faramir had known the man calling himself Strider was special.

No disguise should have been enough to conceal the majesty of this man. As Faramir continued to gaze in awed reverie, he realized that Strider was there too. This man was both ranger and king not just a king playing the part of a ranger. Strider had traveled the wilds, explored all of Middle Earth and the wisdom of the woods, mountains and grasslands truly belonged to him. He had endured hardships with no expectation that his great destiny would exempt him from work and struggle. Perhaps that was why Faramir had not penetrated the secret immediately. Strider, the ranger was not a pretense; he was a real part of the man who was also the king. Faramir was fascinated. There was so much he had to think about. The king was here, now, close enough to touch. Everything had changed.

“I cannot claim your service, Faramir.”

“Am I not worthy, sire?” The young man asked, sounding piteous. Anguish crashed in on him. Faramir started to sway forward. He meant to press his forehead to the ground as though the pain crushing him could be alleviated by an act of self-abasement. The king caught his shoulder, though, holding him upright until the younger man was able to stop shaking.

“There is a proper order. You know that. The Steward rules in the White City, so long as he does, your allegiance must be to him.” Aragorn had never imagined a scene such as this. He was the one who was not worthy. He did not know why Faramir accepted him so completely and without question. How could Faramir see so clearly in him something the could not always see clearly in himself.

Faramir hung his head, ashamed that his king had needed to remind him of such a simple truth. Yet with the revelation of his king, Faramir now understood much about Denethor that had mystified him before. The Steward had ruled Faramir’s universe. He had seemed all-powerful, all-knowing. A Steward might pass for a king and Denethor had tried his best to do so. The illusion could not last, though, in the presence of the true king. His lord had said that Faramir’s allegiance must be to the Steward but his true allegiance had to be to the King and to Gondor. Was his lord testing him?

“I am bound to Denethor. I should obey him and I must not lie to him… but that does not mean I must do nothing but what he tells me nor that I must volunteer information he does not ask for. Denethor is the Steward not the king. He is not Gondor. Tell me, lord, how may I serve you.” After speaking these words, Faramir looked up hopefully, wondering if he had passed the test.

“My name is Aragorn. Call me Aragorn.” It was amazing to Aragorn how thoroughly at ease Faramir seemed to be with this situation, as though there was nothing surreal or odd about the encounter. The ranger, himself, felt an weird prickle in his skin that he could not explain. Part of him wished to rise up, take the younger man’s hands in his and accept his oath of fealty. Another part, just as urgent, wanted to escape the exposure of secrets that had been so long hidden.

“Aragorn.” Faramir breathed reverently, pronouncing the name slowly as though exploring its shape and sound. “I am glad to know who you are. I think I wanted to know earlier but somehow I just did not make the connection.” As he said this Faramir reached for Aragorn’s hand but at the last moment he did not take it, he just let his own hand hover close as though he wanted to touch it but could not quite bring himself to do so.

“I meant it when I said that I love you, Faramir.” Aragorn responded instantly closing the few inches distance between their hands and pressing Faramir’s hand to his chest. “I- I know I have not been entirely honest with you but I do love you, sweetheart. Have your feelings for me changed?”

Faramir seemed confused by the question. Could Aragorn really doubt his feelings. “You have honored me beyond my deserving. I love you. The world has changed but I know my feelings for you could never change. I think , though that I understand those feelings a little better now.” Faramir smiled tentatively and moved a little nearer Aragorn still somehow reluctant to initiate contact between them but needing to be close.

Aragorn closed his eyes a moment, he had not expected the tremendous feeling of relief that washed over him when Faramir said that he loved him. He had feared to lose the young man’s affection and the extent of that fear only became apparent after Faramir’s reassurance. When the ranger finally mastered himself and opened his eyes, he found the younger man looking at him with an expression of love and adoration. Reaching out, Aragorn put his arms gently around Faramir’s neck and, drawing the other man close, he kissed him.

All of Faramir’s senses had become super-acute in the time since the truth of Aragorn’s identity had fought its way through to the young man’s conscious mind. Now Aragorn’s kiss seemed to have an even more powerful effect upon him than ever before. Heat, pleasure, wet, deep, smooth, rapture, rough, pressure, bliss, the sensations were coming with too much speed and intensity to be properly registered. He could only feel, the power of analysis had been stripped from him. Groaning, Faramir gave in to the abundance of sensation.

“There is so much I want to tell you, sweetheart, so much I want you to know. You are beautiful, love. I want you so much. I don’t think I shall ever be able to touch you enough, Faramir. I shall never have enough of you.” Aragorn’s voice was low and husky. It seemed to Faramir that his king was speaking directly into his soul, so absolutely did the sound wrap itself around him, revealing a perfect blend of pitch and tone and meaning. Yet, Faramir could feel the warm breath against his cheek and knew the whispered words had come to him the usual way.

“Yes, my lord. I want everything, love me, take all of me. Oh Aragorn, I think I must be dying; everything is so wonderful.” Faramir’s head fell forward onto Aragorn’s chest. His brow was slick with sweat and he felt the soft dark hair on the ranger’s torso stick with the moisture. His hands were on Aragorn’s shoulder and he felt the muscles beneath the smooth skin tense and relax as Aragorn moved backward so that the younger man lay on his back. This change in position forced Faramir who had been sitting on his knees to unbend his legs. As he did so, Aragorn slipped naturally between his parted thighs. Lying torso to torso, the two men kissed again.

“You are not going to die, Faramir. I won’t let you.” Aragorn said finally, after ravishing the younger man’s mouth. The ranger leaned down to kiss Faramir again, then placing his hands on either of the man’s head, he levered his weight up. Looking down into the pale blue eyes, Aragorn saw so much trust and love that it immediately sent a sweet ache to his groin. Faramir was craning his neck, obviously wanting to kiss again. Smiling, the ranger obliged, but only for a moment before starting to move down Faramir’s body. Faramir’s arms had been firmly wrapped around the ranger’s waist but as Aragorn descended the younger man’s hands crept up his back, fingers exploring vertebra by vertebra.

Enjoying the pressure of Faramir’s fingers along his back, Aragorn arched into the gentle touch. As he seemed to be moving away from Faramir’s body however the younger man let out a small whimper. The gentle pressure of fingers became the grasping of nails and Faramir’s legs which had been rubbing over Aragorn’s hips, suddenly tightened around Aragorn’s waist. “Don’t go, my lord. Oh, please don’t.”

Settling his weight over Faramir, Aragorn kissed the younger man’s sternum. “I’m not going, love, sweetheart. Be easy, Faramir.” Patiently Aragorn kissed and licked up and down Faramir’s torso. He rubbed his stubbled cheek against the younger man’s nipples and felt pleasure sizzle through the young body. Faramir did not ease his tight hold on the older man immediately, though. There was a slight burn along the ranger’s back as Faramir clutched his flesh and Aragorn felt the muscles of younger man’s inner thighs begin to tremble with the effort of squeezing around his waist. The ranger though, ignored the discomfort. He knew he had exacerbated Faramir’s insecurity by his abrupt departure the night before and he was more than willing to let Faramir hold him as tightly as he wanted if it would reassure the younger man.

As time went on, Faramir gradually eased his fierce grip on the ranger’s back and hips. Aragorn continued to pet and stroke the younger man, concentrating on relaxing as well as arousing Faramir. He drew his tongue in lazy circles around Faramir’s navel, dipping in occasionally. This made the younger man’s breath hitch and he moaned softly. Aragorn loved all the little sounds Faramir had been making, he loved the way his slim form bucked and contorted beneath him. He savored the fresh clean taste of Faramir’s sweat and the sweetness of the skin beneath. Every moment seemed to bring a new discovery joy.

“I want you out of those trousers, Faramir. Is that all right?” Aragorn asked as the rough cloth of trousers rubbed against the ranger’s sides as Faramir ran the sides of his knees along Aragorn’s ribs.

“Yes, Aragorn yes.” Faramir answered breathlessly. The tightness in his groin had been building into a delicious agony and now Faramir needed to be free of everything that separated him from Aragorn. Faramir suddenly felt a surge of urgency to have Aragorn within him. Ecstasy seared along his nerves. He did not know how much more of the excruciating pleasure Aragorn gave him he could endure. He craved the feeling of Aragorn moving inside him, wanted it so badly.

Faramir’s hands went to the laces of his trousers while Aragorn moved down his legs to remove his boots. When the boots were gone, the ranger closed his hands over Faramir’s and together they eased the trousers down over his hips and off his legs. Now completely naked with his arousal very evident, the young man regarded Aragorn from beneath thick dark lashes. He was gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat and the pale skin of his face and neck was flushed. At the same time, Faramir’s smile was shy and unsure of itself. Occasionally, the young man made small movements as though he thought he ought to cover himself but he never did. His eyes constantly sought Aragorn’s, needing to have the older man’s approval. He looked both demure and wanton and utterly irresistible.

Aragorn stared in fascinated admiration until Faramir’s hands began moving hesitantly toward the laces of the older man’s trousers. Aragorn smiled and kissed Faramir as they both worked to remove the last barrier of fabric between them. When they had both been fully revealed to one another, it was Faramir’s turn to stare lustfully. The young man’s looks were putting an ever increasing strain on the ranger’s self control and with a low growl he once again moved over Faramir, sliding his erection along the younger man’s thigh and thrusting against his hip.

“Faramir, my love.” Aragorn whispered between kisses. Faramir could not immediately return the endearment for all the sound he could push from his throat were needy moans but he began moving his hips up, the feel of Aragorn’s cock driving against his thigh driving him mad.

“Aragorn, I love you. I need you so much. Please.” Faramir moved his legs apart and tried to tilt his hips upward.

“Yes, beloved, yes.” Aragorn soothed, kissing Faramir’s damp brow. Taking the younger man’s hand so as not to give Faramir any sense of being of abandoned, even for a moment, Aragorn stretched himself as far as he could and grasped the strap on his pack that had been lying several feet away. Dragging the pack towards himself, the ranger put an arm around Faramir and began searching through his gear with Faramir in front of him sitting between his legs. Faramir wriggled until he could feel the hard flesh of Aragorn’s erection press up against his buttocks. The ranger sucked in his breath and then began rummaging through his pack with renewed energy.

As always the jar of salve Aragorn had been searching for had ended up at the very bottom of everything. Finally though, the ranger found the container and as he dragged it out as small canvas packet spilled out along with it. Faramir had been stroking Aragorn’s thighs and bending his neck backward to kiss Aragorn’s chin but as the small object hit his leg he reached for it without thinking. As he picked up a corner of the fabric Gilraen’s opal necklace spilled out.

“It was my mother’s.” Aragorn said softly as Faramir picked up the necklace, at first only curious then becoming reverent.

“It is beautiful. Do you keep it as a remembrance?” Faramir asked gently, turning sorrowful eyes upon his king.

“No.” The ranger answered, taking the necklace from Faramir and wrapping it back in its canvas cover.

“I’m sorry, I should not have presumed to touch it. I- I see that you do not wish to speak of it.” Faramir lowered his head but Aragorn, after quickly tucking the necklace back into his pack, lifted the younger man’s chin and kissed him.

“I do not wish to speak of it because I would much rather make love to you, my darling. Later you may ask anything you like.” With one arm, the ranger picked up his pack and tossed it to the far side of the tent. Then he kissed Faramir again. “And I always want you to touch what ever you want.” As Aragorn hoped, Faramir’s look of distress faded into a smile and the younger man leaned against him, letting one hand move to the ranger’s groin touching him with dexterous fingers.

“I love you so much, my lord. I want to please you.” Faramir stroked Aragorn gently trying to remember everything that the ranger liked.

“You do that, my love. You please me very much.”

Slowly Faramir moved his way down Aragorn’s body, kissing as he went. The ranger lay back, supporting himself on his elbows. When Faramir reached his groin, he looked up at Aragorn seeking his permission. The ranger nodded as he reached to gently stroke Faramir’s hair. The younger man smile briefly then leaned down to lap at Aragorn’s sex. The ranger groaned as he let his head fall back. Faramir’s delicate tongue licked up and down his pulsing length making the older man shudder. Loving the taste and feel of the hot skin beneath his tongue, the younger man grew bolder. First, Faramir placed a kiss on the tip of Aragorn’s flesh and then wrapping his lips around the thick length, he slid his tongue beneath the foreskin.

“Ah, Faramir!” Aragorn could not keep himself from calling out at the pleasure burning through him, tightening his balls. Faramir, ever attune to Aragorn’s slightest action, looked up desperately as he registered the shudder running through the older man’s body and heard him call his name. Faramir had thrilled to the sounds Aragorn had been making and he had really enjoyed the thick, heavy weight of his lord between his lips, filling his mouth, but the younger man knew that he lacked experience and this knowledge made him skittish.

“Your sweet mouth will utterly undo me, beloved.” Aragorn told Faramir petting his hair and smiling reassuringly.

“Love me, Aragorn, please make love to me.” Faramir pleaded resting his head against the ranger’s hip. Faramir wanted to bring Aragorn to completion. He wanted to give him ecstasy then feel the hot jet of fluid spurt down his throat. Yet there was an emptiness that he needed Aragorn to fill.

Sitting up, Aragorn continued to caress the dark head resting between his legs. “Do you mind lying on your stomach for a little bit, my love.” The ranger asked, fumbling for the jar of salve. Faramir smiled and stretched himself beside Aragorn, turning his head a little so that he could keep the ranger in view. Long fingers brushed his lips and Faramir opened his mouth sucking at the intruding digits greedily.

“My dear one.” Aragorn crooned, letting his other hand drift down to the elegant curve of Faramir’s backside. The younger man’s eyes drifted closed and his hips pumped against the ground uncontrollably when Aragorn began to knead the firm flesh.

Reluctantly, Aragorn pulled his thoroughly wetted fingers from Faramir’s mouth and slicked the valley between the younger man’s buttocks. Faramir’s hands clenched into fists and his head thrashed from side to side. He was not sure how to handle such an intensity of feeling being elicited by such a light touch. Kissing the small of his back, Aragorn moved behind Faramir, massaging the younger man’s cheeks so that they lifted and separated. Returning to the shadowed crevice between Faramir’s buttocks, Aragorn gently caressed the tight muscles guarding the opening into Faramir’s body.

After a moment the hands were removed and Faramir swiveled at the waist. He needed to be always touching or within sight of Aragorn or he grew alarmed. The ranger, however, had no intention of leaving. He kissed Faramir’s shoulder blades and softly urged the younger man to lie flat once more while he opened the jar of salve coating his fingers with the oily cream.

There was a completely different texture to Aragorn’s fingers as they continued to probe the sensitive skin of Faramir’s backside now that they were slippery with oil. His muscles would yield more readily to the lubrication Faramir knew, but the unmediated touch of Aragorn’s rough and callused hands upon his most vulnerable flesh had been inexplicably wonderful. The younger man did not have long to consider this, however, as Aragorn finally penetrated him and all thoughts save those of his celebrating flesh deserted him. Faramir twisted up, trying to keep his hips parallel to the ground but also needing to reach for Aragorn, to kiss him, to see his face.

Responding to Faramir’s obvious need, Aragorn moved so that he could kiss the younger man’s shoulders while continuing to stretch him. Faramir settled down a little, kissing the top of Aragorn’s head and raising himself slightly on his knees so that he could push himself back onto the ranger’s finger. A second finger was added as a result of Faramir’s eager acceptance of the first. Moaning, Faramir seemed to need to embrace Aragorn, while also impaling himself on the older man’s fingers. He was twisting himself into something like a spiral and Aragorn afraid for Faramir withdrew his fingers, putting his arms around his torso. Mewling at the loss of stimulation, Faramir nonetheless hugged Aragorn tightly.

“Turn onto your back, lovely.” Aragorn suggested, liking the idea of seeing Faramir as they made love very much. The younger man complied instantly, wrapping his legs around the ranger’s waist and canting his hips upward. Taking up more of the salve, Aragorn replaced his two fingers. He explored the moist heat of Faramir’s inside while leaning over the younger man so that Faramir could hold him. Faramir had to shut his eyes as a third finger was finally added. Reflexively his muscles tightened, squeezing Aragorn’s fingers.

“Easy, Faramir. Relax, my love.”

Nodding vigorously, Faramir took in several deep breaths. After a moment more, Aragorn could move in and out of him easily. Aragorn ached for Faramir, his whole body trembled with need for the younger man. He wanted him so badly but the fear of hurting Faramir worried at the back of his mind. It was not just a physical pain that he feared he might inflict but rather a disillusionment, a theft of innocence and betrayal of trust. Somehow Faramir loved him and trusted him; but what if Aragorn was ultimately untrustworthy. What if he could not protect Faramir? What if he could not be what Faramir needed? A Shiver ran through the ranger as these worries suddenly rose up before him but Aragorn fought them down. If he gave in to doubt now he would certainly hurt Faramir.

Taking a deep breath, Aragorn reached once more for the salve. Faramir’s gaze was riveted upon him as he slathered the oil onto his pulsing shaft. Carefully the ranger positioned himself at Faramir’s entrance. Aragorn sought Faramir’s eyes. It took a moment before the younger man was able to tear his gaze from the sight of Aragorn slick penis nudging eagerly at his back passage but when the light blue eyes looked up Faramir mouthed the single word: `yes’.

Groping for Faramir’s hand and then clasping it in his own, palm to palm, fingers interlocking, Aragorn pushed himself into Faramir’s yielding body. Faramir began to pant and he clutched Aragorn’s hand with bruising force. Aragorn filled him, stretched him impossibly wide and so deep. It burned him but Faramir would never have called what he felt `pain’. Finally, Aragorn was fully sheathed within the younger man. The ranger stilled his motion, as sweat pricked his skin. Faramir was beyond anything Aragorn had ever felt before. The younger man’s body clung to him, surrounding him with living heat.

“I belong to you now, Aragorn.” Faramir spoke the words softly but they were perfectly clear between desperate gasps.

“Yes, you are mine.”

“In this as in all things, my lord.” Faramir was so full with Aragorn that there was no place left within him for doubts or insecurity. He saw things clearly, no longer obscured by his own fears and Faramir knew happiness.

“My Faramir, yes. You are mine.” Aragorn hardly knew what he spoke. The words came from him seemingly without any thought on his part. As he spoke, though, he knew it was the truth. The two gazed at one another, living a moment that each man would replay over and over in his thoughts countless times. Then, Aragorn began to move.

Aragorn started slowly, thrusting shallowly. Soon, though, Faramir’s urgent moans combined with his own desperate desire forced him to increase the pace. In moments, he was plunging deeply into Faramir, driving downward as the younger man pushed upward. When the ranger brushed across the knot of nerves hidden deep inside Faramir, the younger man let out a sharp cry as his whole body went rigid for an instant.

The look of slack-jawed, mindless pleasure that had taken over Faramir’s features seemed very lovely to Aragorn and he leaned forward very carefully to kiss the open mouth. After a second Faramir began kissing back but the need to continue thrusting into the younger man soon became overwhelming. It had taken too long to come to this point for Aragorn to be able hold on much longer.

Each stroke now grazed against the special place inside Faramir and both men found themselves hurtling toward climax. The tightness in Aragorn’s balls was nearly unbearable as flesh slapped against flesh. The impact of each decisive thrust sent Faramir’s weeping arousal bouncing helplessly between their bellies. The two men still had a firm hold on one another’s hands but Faramir’s free hand sought his own neglected penis as his body screamed at him to find an outlet for all the pleasure Aragorn’s lovemaking was giving him.

Faramir grasped himself but his hand trembled and his grip was unsteady until Aragorn’s hand closed over his. They stroked together just a few times before Faramir’s release arched up from their joined hands. Aragorn continued squeezing Faramir’s throbbing penis and thrusting into him and the younger man continued to spill copious amounts of semen. After coaxing the last drop from the younger man’s now spent erection, Aragorn brought his thickly coated fingers to his mouth. At the taste of Faramir’s essence, Aragorn felt a final crushing tightness in his balls as he expelled himself forcefully, deep inside Faramir.

Feeling completely bereft of all strength and yet utterly happy, Aragorn withdrew from Faramir. Turning on his side, the ranger gathered the younger man against him. Still starry-eyed Faramir turned into Aragorn’s warmth, draping an arm around the older man. Aragorn summoned the last shreds of his strength and retrieved a small cloth. Carefully he tried to clean Faramir a bit so the younger man would be more comfortable, but Faramir appeared to be comfortable enough, nestling firmly into Aragorn’s side and resisting all other movement.

It occurred to Aragorn that Faramir was already asleep and that he should join the young man in that state immediately but just as Aragorn was going to match action to thought Faramir’s eyes fluttered open. “I love you. I love you very much.” Smiling a little Faramir traced a finger down the ranger’s face.

“I know you do, dear one. I love you, too.” Hearing this Faramir’s eyes fluttered shut once more and soon both men were fast asleep.

NB: Please do not distribute (by any means, including email) or repost this story (including translations) without the author's prior permission. [ more ]

Enjoyed this story? Then be sure to let the author know by posting a comment at https://www.faramirfiction.com/fiction/family-honor. Positive feedback is what keeps authors writing more stories!


10 Comment(s)

Ah, a story with a real plot and real character does stupid dances... I´m so thankful for that ;)
Very nice so far and I´m looking forward to learn more about Khand and our mysterios ranger xD…
Please write more and update as soon as posible.

Greetings,
Elivyan

— elivyan    Saturday 15 July 2006, 4:38    #

Have read Trial and Judgement (although the beginning of it was mangled and I have no idea how much of it I missed) and anticipate another fine story here.

— Bell Witch    Saturday 15 July 2006, 11:36    #

i’m in deep trouble now, just can’t will myself to leave the wonderful little world you created thought i should have gone back to work long time ago…totally hooked! *sigh*

— traveller    Sunday 16 July 2006, 0:28    #

Great story! Thanks for sharing it with us.

— Mandy    Sunday 16 July 2006, 23:50    #

Read through Chapter 20 in one night and then no time to finish until now. You weave a fine story with plot and character details and cultural concepts that made those first twenty chapters a butt-hurtin’ necessity. Your Halbarad is especially interesting.

Damn fine story.

— Bell Witch    Monday 17 July 2006, 4:36    #

Read this over the past couple of weeks. This is a brilliant story. Your characterizations have sploiled me for the rest of the slash world – so resplendent and nuianced, grave and sweet in their integrity. The rich community of supporting characters itself was thrilling. What I value most is the simple layered craft of each chapter. Thank you!

— stillwell    Saturday 29 July 2006, 3:09    #

Wonderful – simply wonderful. A grand story. I will look for your work always. Wonderful.

— EJ    Saturday 14 April 2007, 22:34    #

very good story. Love it. I hope you write a sequel to it.

— kijo    Monday 3 November 2008, 6:58    #

I so love your stories, please, can you gifted us with a sequel or another marvelous story ?
Thanks for sharing!

— camille    Tuesday 30 December 2008, 15:28    #

Wow, I just came across your story and spend the whole night reading it! This is one of the few really fantastic LotR stories that I have found over the years.
I love the writing style and the character developement in this piece! Somehow I love the characterisation of Flyn … while I still dislike him personally :-)
There are many more reasons why I love this story, but I cant list them all here … instead, I think, I am going to reread this story immediately after I have finished this comment :-)

Thanks for sharing it with us!
(Please forgive any misspelling. English isn’t my first language)

— Mikkalea Luna    Saturday 14 May 2011, 19:39    #

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