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I Know A Place (NC-17) Print

Written by Gondorbunny

24 December 2006 | 7479 words

The battle had been hard fought, but victory was theirs.

And Boromir never felt the thrill of victory more keenly than when, amongst the revelling crowds of rangers and soldiers alike, he found his beloved brother Faramir in his arms. The two embraced warmly, and then after a few exchanged words, were off to join the merrymaking, both of them feeling as though no other moment could possibly come close to the happiness of this one.

Just as swiftly, however, the brothers’ joy was dimmed, as if a cloud had passed over the sun. Boromir saw Faramir’s eyes sweeping the crowd, then the contented smile slowly faded from his face.

“What?” Boromir asked, perplexed by Faramir’s sudden change of demeanor.

Faramir’s eyes cut back to Boromir, and his voice matched his now somber expression as he said simply, “he is here.”

Still looking confused, Boromir turned to follow Faramir’s gaze…....and saw.

Making his way through the milling throng, a broad smile on his face as he greeted and congratulated those he knew well, was Denethor.

Boromir’s face fell and he turned away with a weary, irritated sigh. “Our one moment of peace. Can he not give us that?”

Then he turned his head to look again, and saw that their father was still otherwise engaged with speaking with the soldiers and so had not taken notice of their presence as yet. Coming to a quick decision, Boromir suddenly reached out to grasp Faramir’s arm, tugging it urgently.

“Come on,” Boromir rasped, his voice low and filled with a grim determination. Faramir offered no resistance as Boromir led them around the corner and through the thick press of soldiers, finally ducking into a narrow avenue behind a crumbling stone wall.

“‘Tis my hope that we may evade him at least for a little while,” Boromir explained, glancing around the corner cautiously, an expression of relief on his face when he did not see their father anywhere about. Then he turned to Faramir, offering him an apologetic smile. “Forgive me, little brother. But I was not yet ready for our moments together to end.” He paused, the smile fading and his eyes growing a bit sad as he added, “we seem to have so few of them anymore.”

Now a tender smile crossed Faramir’s face as he laid his hand on his brother’s chainmail clad arm. “There is no need to explain your actions, Boromir. I require it not. I too was loathe to be interrupted.” Then he paused, and a dark expression touched his face, and his eyes turned a bit haunted. “He has come to send you away, you realize?” he asked, searching Boromir’s face.

Boromir’s brow creased as he asked, “why do you believe such a thing?”

Faramir shook his head slowly, sadly. “I feel it in my heart, Boromir. ‘Tis connected with the visions that you and I have shared.”

“Dreams, you mean,” Boromir scoffed gently. “For dreams is all they are, Faramir. Mere fancies of our nighttime minds. They have no place in the waking world.”

But even as he spoke these words of surety, Boromir’s eyes spoke a different story, as they began to take on the same haunted expression as Faramir’s.

Faramir again shook his head, his voice still low and subdued. “Mark me, Boromir. Father wishes to find the answer to the riddle of Isildur’s Bane, and he will send you away to discover it.”

So sure did Faramir sound, and so heavy was the vivid memory of the dream upon him, that Boromir could no longer argue his brother’s claims. Instead, he drew himself up to his full height and let out a determined sigh.

“If that is to be what transpires, then I would not waste what precious time we have left to us with such dark talk.” He looked around, and while there was still no sign of Denethor, there were men still milling about everywhere, and he shook his head as he said, “seems we are as alone as we can be, little brother. There is no place in Osgiliath where solitude may be found now.”

A strange light came into Faramir’s eyes then and he said quietly, “I know a place.”

Boromir’s gaze was both quizzical and hopeful as he turned back to look at his brother again. And without any hesitation, he began to follow Faramir back through the celebratory throng.

Keeping an ever-watchful eye out for their father, the brothers made their way into the back streets of Osgiliath. Here the crowd was significantly thinner, as most of the revelry was taking place out in the main avenues and courtyards of the city.

Soon, Faramir had led Boromir to one of the ancient guardtowers, and with a quick glance around to ensure that they were not observed by anyone, the brothers slipped inside the tower, climbing the spiraling staircase within to the observation deck at the top.

Here, Boromir assumed they would halt, for there was no where further to go, but Faramir surprised him yet again. The younger Gondorian pushed against a spot in the stone wall at the back of the deck, and to Boromir’s wondering eyes, a narrow secret door opened. Smiling at the look of bemusement on Boromir’s face, Faramir slipped through the door, closely followed by his brother, who cursed softly as the broad breastplate of his armor scraped against the stone as he squeezed through the confined space.

When Boromir’s eyes had adjusted to the gloom, he found himself within a small chamber, empty save for a hastily assembled pallet on the floor, a few books piled in a corner, and a couple of half-burned candles.

“I would come here often when I needed time to be on my own,” Faramir explained, his soft voice slightly amplified by the closeness of the quarters.

He moved toward the candles, picking up the flint that lay nearby and striking a spark to light the wicks. Then he moved past Boromir to slide the secret door closed, so that the flickering candlelight was the only illumination.

And by this dim golden light, the brothers sat together on the pallet and immersed themselves in talk in such a way as they had not been able to for many long months.

They spoke of the battle just recently fought and won, and they reminisced about others that they had fought side by side, and as the talk went on, both the brothers keenly felt a warm sense of regard and camraderie that they had only ever experienced so completely with one another, even since earliest childhood.

However, both of them were also aware of the shadow of Faramir’s prediction, and that Denethor was no doubt still seeking Boromir in the city below. For this reason, though their conversation was long and they spoke of many things, neither one of them gave any mention to the future.

Too soon, it seemed to both, they seemed to reach an unspoken agreement between them that it was time to leave the tower and rejoin the crowds below, though in truth both of them were very hesitant indeed to give up this time together. These moments of bonding that they rarely got to experience in the complexities of their day-to-day lives.

“I suppose ‘tis time to discover what Father’s intentions are,” Boromir sighed, though he did not rise to his feet just yet.

“Aye,” Faramir agreed quietly. “He will no doubt have been seeking you for this entire time that we have been closeted away.” He paused for a moment, then looked down at his hands loosely clasped in his lap as he added, “I hope he will not have ill feelings toward you due to this, Boromir. I am sorry I kept you for so long.”

Boromir looked at his younger brother for a long moment, noting the way the flickering light cast a flattering glow upon his high cheekbones and touched off a thousand gleaming sparks in the blonde waves of his hair, and as Faramir’s eyes met his own again, Boromir was reminded and entranced by the sheer beauty of his sibling.

“I am not sorry,” Boromir said, his voice a deep rumble. “For to be able to spend even a minute with you is worth any consequence to me.”

Then, as a soft, grateful smile touched the corners of Faramir’s mouth, Boromir impulsively slipped a hand up the back of Faramir’s neck beneath his hair, and drew him forward into a kiss. It was light, chaste, but so filled with emotion for all that that Faramir felt his heartrate suddenly increase dramatically. And he would be willing to bet that if he could feel through the strong armor that covered his brother’s upper body, that Boromir’s heart would be racing as well.

With reluctance, Boromir gently broke the kiss, his fingers softly massaging Faramir’s neck as he whispered huskily, “I love you, little brother.”

Then he was rising to his feet and moving toward the door. Faramir paused for the briefest moment, then blew out the candles and followed his brother to whatever fate held for them.


Faramir stood at the gates of Osgiliath in the deep darkness of the earliest morning hours. He faced the northwest, lost in memory of that last day that he and Boromir had spent together. Remembering the talk, the closeness, the sheer joy of being together, but most of all, remembering that single innocent kiss. And also remembering how he had so regretted the lack of time, for he had so wanted that kiss to lead into more activities of a less brotherly nature.

For Faramir had desired his elder brother for many years, but never spoke of his deepest feelings openly, too afraid was he of what Boromir would think of such a thing. Bonds of that sort between men were not unusual, especially amongst the armies of Gondor, and Faramir was well aware that Boromir himself had taken his pleasure of many a young soldier in his time. But for Faramir to bring up the idea of such bonds being created between brothers…......

The warm feeling that had been building in Faramir’s stomach at such thoughts was extinguished as a chill breeze suddenly blew from the north, ruffling his hair and making him shiver despite the heavy wool cloak he had wrapped tightly around his shoulders. And with the chill, sudden crushing reality returned to him, making his stomach tighten unhappily and his heart turn to lead. For he knew that no such bond would ever be possible with Boromir now, for it appeared that the words of parting spoken between the brothers just before Boromir rode out to seek Imladris would be the last they would ever say to one another.

For it had been two nights past since Faramir had heard, distant but instantly recognizable, the sound of Boromir’s horn blowing off to the northwest. Three times had it sounded its urgent call, and oh how the strongest urge had seized Faramir to mount his horse and ride like the wind itself to his brother’s aid.

But after that third call, the horn had blown no more, and left only a silence and a great dread in Faramir’s heart.

Then, earlier this evening, the final telling blow had come. Faramir had gone down to where the banks of Anduin bent in close to the outskirts of Osgiliath, telling his men he wanted to scout the shoreline for signs of enemy intrusion, but in reality compelled by some other force he could not immediately define.

Something floating amongst the weeds at the water’s edge, bobbing softly in the current, had caught his eye. But before Faramir even had a chance to get a good look at it he already had a premonition of what he would find. Sure enough, it was the Horn of Gondor, the emblem of their house that had been passed down from eldest son to eldest son for generations.

It seemed now, however, that the horn had seen its last days, for it was now a broken ruin, cloven completely in two by some evil blade.

And at that moment, it came completely clear to Faramir that Boromir as well had likely seen his last days.

As the memories of these recent past events crowded in upon Faramir’s mind as he stood now in the darkness, so too now did thoughts of a bleak future filter in. A future where Faramir would truly be alone, and he and his beloved brother would never fight side by side again.

Ah Boromir, I never got the chance to tell you how much you truly meant to me, Faramir thought. He swiped at his face with the back of his hand in an almost angry gesture as a tear traced its way down his cheek, and was astonished to find that his face was already quite wet. Many, many tears had already escaped from his haunted blue eyes, unnoticed, as he stood wrapped in his reminisces.

Faramir briefly debated with himself about whether he should retire to the barracks within the city common, then just as quickly dismissed the idea. He knew that sleep would be long in coming this night, and probably for many, many more nights to come.

Now the reality of the situation hit him fully once again, and he began to walk out from the gates out into the fields beyond, feeling numbed and ill with grief and loss. He cast his eyes across the wide expanse of the Pelannor, dimly lit by moonlight, and could just make out the towering presence of Minas Tirith beyond. If he squinted hard, he could just make out the flag flying from the top of the Tower.

The strangest urge came upon Faramir now to race across the fields as fast as he could and straight through the Gate. To run ceaselessly up the winding cobblestoned streets, through circle after circle, until he finally reached the Tower. To enter Boromir’s chambers and surround himself with his brother’s lingering presence. The presence that he craved so badly now he shook with it. He wanted to wrap himself in the memories of his brother who had been so cruelly taken from him.

These thoughts suddenly proved to be too much and Faramir now utterly lacked the strength to hold back the emotional storm. He dropped to his knees on the cool dewy grass and wept long and hard until his throat was sore and his eyes burned. But even after all his tears were spent, he still could not rid himself of that hollow ache inside of him.

Faramir had no idea how long he sat upon the Pelannor field, merely staring blankly into the night, but it finally occured to him that he should think about heading back to the barracks before one of his men came out in search of him. He was just rising dejectedly to his feet for the walk back when suddenly a flickering shadow of movement caught the corner of his eye. He quickly turned his head in that direction, his eyes wide and alert now and scanning the darkness. He was just starting to think that it had been but a trick of his sight when he saw it again. A night-shrouded figure moving across the field.

Now feeling faintly alarmed, wondering if this did not herald some new trick by Mordor’s forces to try and reclaim Osgiliath once again, Faramir laid his hand upon the hilt of his knife that he always kept by his side, while dimly cursing himself for being so foolish as to venture out of Osgiliath by night alone without his sword. He shifted his stance slightly, taking a cautionary step back as the figure appeared to draw closer.

Then, Faramir tensed up all the more as he heard the sudden ringing sound of steel as his yet unseen foe drew its sword. Faramir widened his stance slightly, crouching at the ready…..

And then a voice came from the darkness. Weakened with weariness, but still boldly challenging and perfectly recognizable. “Who dares to walk freely in the heart of Gondor without leave?”

For a moment, Faramir found himself struck dumb with shock. His heart skipped a beat and his hands trembled. Finally, his own voice low and uncertain, he managed to say, “Boromir?”

There was a brief silence as the figure standing but a few feet away now paused. Then, in a hoarse murmur, the answer came. “Faramir? Is that you?”

Heedless now of any dangers….....either real or imagined, Faramir dropped his knife and rushed toward the figure before him, his heart now thudding steadily within his chest and swelling with such an overwhelming sense of hope and joy that he feared he might burst apart from it.

Then there was Boromir before him, looking tired and dejected and yet all at once so wonderfully beautifully real….....so alive. And in the next instant, he was in his brother’s embrace, with his own arms wrapped firmly around Boromir’s solid body. And there was no doubt left in Faramir’s mind that this was no dream. No insubstantial phantom.

“Gods, you are here. You still live. Thank the Valar…....you have returned to us. To me.” He pulled back, his eyes shining as he gazed in disbelief at Boromir. “When I found the horn broken…...I thought you were lost to us, Boromir. I feared you had perished.”

A lovely, tender smile touched the corners of Boromir’s mouth, though his expression was touched with sorrow. “Nay, I did not meet such a fate.” Then he paused and dropped his gaze, saying, “though my heart is heavy nonetheless, despite returning to my homeland once again.”

Now Faramir’s brow creased as he asked softly, “why is that?”

Boromir heaved a deep sigh that seemed torn from the very heart of him, and when he lifted his gaze to Faramir’s again, Faramir saw apprehension in Boromir’s eyes, and his voice was low and faintly tremulous as he said, “I have failed in my appointed task, little brother, and I have brought shame upon myself and upon Gondor.”

Now Faramir felt sympathy and curiosity tinged with a slight anger at Boromir’s words. It was their father’s almost manic dependence on Boromir and his lofty expectations of his elder son that made Boromir so often doubt his own extensive abilities. While Faramir knew that he would never win his father’s respect, Boromir lived with the weight of Gondor on his shoulders, and it made Faramir sick at heart to see his brother bowed under such pressure.

“You could never shame Gondor, no matter how great you feel your failure to be, Boromir,” Faramir protested gently. Impulsively, he sat upon the grass again, tugging Boromir’s hand to urge him to sit beside him, and after a moment’s hesitation, Boromir did so.

“Now tell me what troubles you so, Boromir,” Faramir urged softly, his eyes moving continuously over his brother’s slightly hunched frame. “By your words, I take it you did not bring back Isildur’s Bane, as father so urged you?”

At the mention of Isildur’s Bane, Boromir flinched suddenly, and his eyes grew haunted. “Nay, I did not. But my greatest sin was that I did attempt to gain possession of it.”

Faramir’s face now registered confusion again as he prodded, “I do not understand, Boromir. You speak in riddles. Please make your meaning more plain.”

Boromir’s gaze now turned to Faramir, and Faramir felt distress at the shame he saw in those well-loved green eyes. “I tried to take this thing by force, Faramir. I tried to wrestle it away from its bearer. A creature no larger than a youth of six springtimes, and this after swearing a vow to protect him to the death.” He paused, his expression wounded as he murmured, “I broke my vow, Faramir. And that to me is a grievous thing.”

Faramir knew how important Boromir felt his vow to be, but he also knew that Boromir was at heart a good man. A man who only wanted what was best for Gondor, and so he smiled encouragingly again, saying, “we have all made errors in life, Boromir. Some that cannot be rectified. But none that we cannot learn from. And none you make could ever make you any less of the man you always were in my eyes.”

Boromir’s face was suddenly lit by the first real smile he had made since his return, and he clasped Faramir’s shoulder impulsively as he said in an relieved tone, “I should have known you would never judge me harshly, my dearest one.”

Faramir found himself almost overwhelmed by the loveliness of Boromir’s smile and the gentle raspiness of his voice. In an attempt to regain control over his feelings, Faramir dropped his gaze and let his eyes wander over his brother’s form again. By this time of night the moon had reached its highest point in the sky and the field was flooded with its pure white light. It was bright enough for Faramir to be able to discern a dark wet patch on the leather of Boromir’s surcoat, up near his left shoulder.

“Boromir, you are wounded!” Faramir gasped suddenly, quickly tearing a strip from the edge of his cloak and gathering it into his hands.

“‘Tis nothing. Just a scratch,” Boromir growled, shrugging dismissively. “An orc arrow grazed me as we battled with them on Amon Hen.”

“Amon Hen?” Faramir asked, reaching over to unsnap the top couple of clasps on Boromir’s surcoat as he spoke. “Is that where you were when you blew the horn?”

“Aye,” Boromir nodded. “But my companions were fighting the foul creatures as well and could not come to my aid. I battled singlehandedly against many of them, but finally I bested them.” A brief light illuminated Boromir’s eyes as he recalled those moments, but just as quickly it was extinguished again as he added, “but after the battle I felt I had to come home. I knew my part in the quest was over, and I was sick for the sight of the White City again. And of you.”

Faramir listened attentively to Boromir’s words, smiling gently as he reached his hand inside his brother’s coat to press the wad of torn cloak against the wound in his brother’s shoulder. Boromir winced slightly at the sudden pressure, then relaxed again, merely looking into the darkness ahead of them.

As Faramir tended to Boromir’s wound, he could not help but be aware of the close proximity of the other man. Of his strong, solid body and familiar warm scent that Faramir had always associated with feelings of love and security. He could feel the slow, steady beat of his brother’s heart and suddenly felt overwhelmed by the memory of just half an hour past, when he thought that this heart had ceased to beat forever.

And suddenly, in the face of that, the idea of his brother thinking he had failed Gondor seemed rather ridiculous. He was alive. He was home. And Gondor would be as thrilled as Faramir to have their revered Captain of the White Tower returned to them at last.

“Boromir…..” Faramir began, but when Boromir turned to look at him to hear what Faramir had to say, Faramir found himself lost for words as he drowned in the beauty of his brother’s eyes. And before Faramir realized what he was doing, he was kissing Boromir with an almost desperate ferocity.

Almost bowled over with surprise at such an act, Boromir made a half-muffled grunt in his throat and seemed for a moment that he would pull away. But as the kiss went on, he seemed to change his mind and relaxed into it instead. Faramir felt his own heart leap within his chest as Boromir’s hands descended upon his shoulders, then slid up to ruffle his hair and clasp his face between his palms.

Slowly the kiss was broken, and Boromir looked long at Faramir, his eyes alternating between wanting more and still registering dull surprise at such an unforseen act.

“Faramir…...What prompted you to do that?” Boromir asked slowly, slicking his tongue over his lips and causing the strongest urge within Faramir to take his brother’s mouth once again.

Now Faramir finally found his tongue as he said in a soft, clear voice, “because I love you Boromir, and not just as your brother. And I want you. I’ve wanted you for years but never knew how to tell you. And to let you know that I care not what sins you believe you have committed. Because Gondor will always adore and respect you. And I will always adore and respect you. For you are my brother, and most beloved of all things in this world to me.”

He stopped and blinked, almost unable to believe that he had voiced the admission that had been beyond his power of speech for so long, and it had now come out as easily and effortlessly as if he had merely been discussing the day’s weather.

But the impact of his words on Boromir was no less amazing. His green eyes grew wide, and his mouth hung slightly ajar for a moment as he absorbed all his younger brother had said. Then, slowly, the stunned expression gave way to one of tenderness as he said hoarsely, “why have you not spoken of such desires before, little brother?”

Faramir shrugged, blushing slightly. “I believed you would think such unions between brothers as unnatural and sinful,” he muttered, his eyes averted.

Now a small smile touched Boromir’s lips as he reached out to stroke his fingers over Faramir’s cheek, causing Faramir to look at him again. Then in a slightly teasing tone that was suddenly deepened slightly, Boromir asked, “and what manner of union are you speaking of?”

Feeling a smile touch his own lips at Boromir’s almost flirtateous act, and feeling a surge of arousal strike him, Faramir suddenly attacked Boromir’s mouth again, sucking hungrily at his lips and slipping his tongue into the heat beyond them for the first time. Another, less shocked grunt came from Boromir’s throat, and his arms tightened around Faramir’s body as the two of them kissed passionately in the moonlight for several long minutes, until finally need of air drove them apart again.

Panting slightly, his eyes dilated, Boromir growled softly, “I would not find any union with you to be either sinful or unnatural, dearest Faramir. I only wish you had made your wishes plain before now, for too much time has been wasted that should have been filled with moments like this.”

“Like this and better, I deem,” Faramir said, his voice taking on a husky edge, his clothing suddenly feeling too tight and too restrictive, and he gasped into the heaven of Boromir’s mouth as his brother kissed him yet again, laying Faramir back in the dewy grass and covering him with his strong body.

Faramir’s hands clutched at the soft leather of Boromir’s surcoat as their kisses deepened and intensified. And as Boromir began to grind his hips against his brother’s, rubbing hardened, needy flesh together between the layers of their breeches, Faramir felt his loins tighten and burn unbearably. He made a low, desperate moan into Boromir’s mouth, feeling dizzy with excitement that these things that he had long fantasized about were actually coming true.

However, when Boromir’s nimble fingers began tugging insistantly at the laces of Faramir’s breeches, Faramir broke their kiss and laid a restraining hand on that of his brother.

“No, Boromir. Not here. One of my men may come this way in search of me.” Boromir moved back in order to let Faramir sit up, and the two of them looked at each other in the dim silence for a moment.

Then, his voice low and filled with desire, Boromir asked, “where then, my dear one?”

His eyes dancing with arousal and a deep happiness, Faramir replied, “I know a place.”


Mere moments later they found themselves within the walls of Osgiliath again, two moving shadows in the darkness of the cobbled streets and ruined walls as they moved swiftly toward the observation tower that they had spent time in together only two months before. And once there, all attempts at restraint were removed.

They practically tumbled onto the pallet, barely having the presence of mind to shut the secret door behind them in their hurry to devour one another’s mouths once again. The kissing went on and on seemingly without end, each of them trying to pour all of their feelings, all of their fears, all of their long years of empty longing into this blazing inferno of locked lips and darting tongues.

Faramir knew, however, that kisses alone would not suffice. They could not completely extinguish the burning, aching need he felt in his heart and in the agonizing tightening of his groin as his shaft swelled alarmingly again in the confines of his breeches. With a desperate sounding whimper, he arched his hips up against Boromir’s, again finding the core of Boromir’s lust and pressing it firmly against his own.

The realization that Boromir’s need matched his so completely was enough to drive Faramir’s passions to a frenzy. He clutched frantically at his brother’s shoulders, his fingers digging into the soft leather as he pressed his hips even tighter against Boromir’s, grinding their arousals together.

Gasping for breath as frissoms of pleasure danced down his spine, Faramir murmured between hungry kisses, “do you love me, Boromir?”

His voice deepened and roughened by lust and emotion, Boromir replied, “yes, my dearest, most precious Faramir. I love you.”

“Then show me, Boromir,” Faramir begged softly, nipping at the slightly damp skin of his brother’s throat. “Show me how you love me.”

With a low, almost desperate moan, Boromir suddenly pushed his younger brother flat onto his back, his kisses growing rough and demanding now as he scrabbled at the lacings of Faramir’s linen shirt, loosening it enough to pull it off over his head. Faramir took the bruising kisses eagerly, and greedily sought even more, his own hands pulling open the front of Boromir’s surcoat and unfastening the silk tunic beneath.

Boromir suddenly tore his mouth away and the two brothers stared at one another in the candlelight, breathing heavily, their bodies already gleaming with perspiration as Boromir hastily shrugged out of his cumbersome layers of clothing until he was clad only in breeches, as Faramir was.

“Faramir,” Boromir said in a low, husky voice. “I do not wish to hurt you. I warn you, my need is great right now, and I often cannot curb myself when that is so. I will ask this of you only once…....are you sure you wish this?” Even as he spoke these words of caution, however, he was focusing on his brother’s swollen, kiss-bruised lips and wanting to devour them still further. But he held himself back, showing remarkable control over his own senses even as his body buzzed with arousal and his penis throbbed and ached within his breeches.

Faramir smiled gently, his love for his brother increasing still further when he thought such a thing could not be. “Yes, I wish this, Boromir. I would not have you curb yourself, for I wish to have you. All of you.”

A tremor shook Boromir’s solid frame at his brother’s words, and his eyes deepened in color as he began to loosen the ties of Faramir’s breeches, pulling them down as Faramir lifted his hips to ease the process. Boromir tossed the garment aside, then paused briefly to take in the splendor of Faramir spread out naked beneath him. The light playing over the smooth skin, marred here and there with the scars of battle. Definitely a man’s body, not the child that Boromir often recalled when gazing at Faramir. All strength and power and as charged with a man’s needs as his own body was. Faramir’s eyes stared up at him. Warm. Trusting. Yet darkened with arousal. And as Boromir ran his hands lightly down his brother’s sides to encircle his waist, Faramir writhed the slightest bit with the sheer pleasure of feeling Boromir’s intimate touch on his bared flesh.

“So lovely,” Boromir murmured, bending to press a kiss to Faramir’s abdomen, just below his navel. Faramir’s shaft twitched in response and his breathing hitched in a soft gasp. And this reaction so pleased Boromir that he repeated the gesture, this time moving his lips just a bit lower, just above the point where the silky fine hairs that trailed down his younger brother’s belly met the coarser, more abundant hair of his groin.

“Boromir….....please…......” Faramir’s voice was a ragged, hoarse whisper as he pushed his hips up needfully. His entire posture and expression one of absolute desire.

A tiny smile turned up the corners of Boromir’s lips, then he bent to gently circle the weeping tip of Faramir’s erection with his tongue, his burning green eyes fixed on Faramir’s face as his brother made a soft, eager sound at the contact. Encouraged by this, and feeling his own arousal spike alarmingly once again, Boromir took his brother’s shaft deep within his throat. It had been a long time since he had serviced another man in such a fashion, and he struggled temporarily with his gag reflex before being able to fall into a regular rhythm.

Faramir moaned softly, one of his hands fisting in the sheets covering the pallet, the other reaching up to stroke Boromir’s head, tangling his fingers within the softness of his elder brother’s golden tresses.

The taste of Faramir combined with his heated reactions suddenly created a hunger in Boromir the likes of which he’d never experienced with another man before. Most of his sexual experiences with other men had been hurried, perfunctory activities. Usually performed in the dead of night and in utter darkness and secrecy. There were no kisses exchanged. No foreplay. Just hot eager flesh against hot eager flesh, rutting furiously until completion was reached. Then they would go their seperate ways and never speak of what had taken place.

But this….....this was so much more than that. This was love. This was passion. This was the person who meant more to Boromir than life itself.

This thought brought on a strong wave of emotion within Boromir, and he drew deeply on Faramir’s organ, sucking ravenously while lightly raking his short fingernails over the trembling surfaces of his brother’s groin and thighs. Faramir uttered a keening cry at the sudden intensification of sensation, throwing his head back, his muscles standing out in sharp relief, his back arching, pushing his arousal deeper within the hot, welcoming bliss of Boromir’s throat.

“Oh gods…..this is too much…......oh Boromir,” Faramir whimpered, his entire body flushed and perspiring, his hips now pumping in an urgent fashion, matching the pace and rhythm that Boromir was setting with his mouth. Until finally, with a final sound somewhere between a groan and a sob, he was flying over the edge of the abyss, his senses lost in endless pleasure.

Secretely congratulating himself on not choking on the copious amouts of seed his brother was exuding, Boromir eagerly swallowed his brother’s precious offering, not ceasing his ministrations until Faramir’s organ was spent and soft between his lips. Then he released him and crawled up the length of Faramir’s body.

“I must have you now, Faramir,” he whispered hoarsely, so needy now that his groin was a constant throbbing ache that he felt all the way up to the pit of his stomach. He bent to kiss his brother briefly, sweeping the inside of his mouth with his tongue before pulling back again. “Again, I say I do not wish to hurt you. But I am but a man after all, and my needs have never been kind nor temperate.”

Faramir smiled lazily, though his deep blue eyes were bright with anticipation and emotion. “I desire neither your kindness nor your temperance right now, brother. ‘Tis your boldness I need right now.” Now his smile faded as he answered in a rough voice, “do it, Boromir. Take me. I have been wanting this for far too long.”

Boromir needed no further urging. Quickly, he was reaching for his sword belt, opening a small pouch that hung off of it and pulling out a vial of honing oil. Pulling off the stopper, he poured the slick substance over his slightly trembling fingers, then set it carefully aside as he moved between Faramir’s legs.

Biting his lower lip gently, Faramir lifted his legs and carefully placed them over his brother’s strong shoulders, a quick intake of breath hissing through his teeth as Boromir’s fingers slid inside him, stretching him open, preparing him swiftly and effectively. Boromir was not as brusque and businesslike as he would have been if this were but a young soldier in the battle encampment. His probing was purposeful yet careful, his expression tense and watchful as he eyed Faramir carefully, ready to cease at once if his brother showed the slightest sign of extreme discomfort.

Faramir, however, did not feel discomforted in the slightest. On the contrary, the dull pain was actually feeding his excitement. This was better than all the nighttime fantasies he’d ever had about Boromir doing these very things to him. For this time, he not only could see it, but he could feel it as well.

Now he hummed deep in his throat as he felt Boromir’s fingers sink even deeper within him, and despite himself, Faramir began to wriggle his hips in small, urgent movements, trying to encourage Boromir to find that spot. That wonderful spot….

“Oh gods!” Faramir gasped as his objective was reached and a shock of intense pleasure wracked his muscular body. His hips bucked and his shaft, which had been stirring gradually back to life, now hardened almost instantly.

Boromir growled softly at his brother’s reaction, bending to nip at the softness of Faramir’s inner thigh as he rubbed against that ultra-sensitive gland once again, causing another gasp to tear from Faramir’s throat.

Deeming Faramir ready now, Boromir withdrew his fingers and set to quickly unlacing his breeches, a soft moan of pure relief escaping him as his painfully swollen erection was freed at last.

Seeing his brother in all his glory made Faramir almost dizzy with wanting. The brothers had seen each other unclothed before, but never before had Faramir seen Boromir naked and fully aroused; his skin flushed, his muscles tense, his impressively-sized penis engorged with blood. Faramir trembled at the sight, unable to tear his gaze from the beauty of the man kneeling over him. But his voice was as soft and steady as ever as he said,

“Now, Boromir. Please.”

Tipping a few more drops of oil into his hand and slicking up his solid length, Boromir now lifted Faramir’s legs once again and positioned himself against his opening, pushing inside with one long, slow thrust of his hips.

Faramir uttered a sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper as he danced on the knife-edge between ecstasy and agony. But oh, what a sweet pain this was. He would endure pain like this anytime as long as it was caused by Boromir alone.

True to his word, Boromir did not pause for consideration or questioning once he was fully sheathed, but began to greedily claim the body beneath him, his hips pumping rhythmically, rocking into Faramir again and again, his fingers digging into the softness of his younger brother’s buttocks as he held him firmly anchored for his thrusts.

Clenching his teeth as Boromir’s massive organ plundered his body, Faramir grabbed double handfuls of the pallet beneath him, his knuckles white as he balled up the sheets between them. But when Boromir shifted slightly and rubbed hard against that wonderful spot within him again, he could not maintain his silence any longer.

“Boromir,” he groaned, his brow beaded with sweat, his eyes rolling dazedly as he was wrapped in a curtain of pleasure. “Oh Boromir…......dear Eru….....”

“Gods, Faramir,” Boromir panted, his voice tense as he fought against the urgent impulse to release his seed, wanting to prolong the sensations that his brother was feeling. “You will undo me far too quickly, I fear.”

Boromir now wrapped his fingers around the pulsing heat of Faramir’s renewed erection, stroking it through his fist in time to his thrusts. Faramir gave a sharp cry in response, his hips jerking spasmodically despite the harsh grip Boromir had on him and the silken steel slamming home deep within him over and over again. He let out a long moan, then gave one more breathless cry as Boromir coaxed another climax from him, spraying his own chest and stomach with his warm fluids.

The sheer enthusiasm of Faramir finally took its toll on Boromir’s rapidly unravelling control, and with two more good hard thrusts, a groan of sheer pleasure and relief fell from his lips as he reached his peak as well.

The brothers were motionless for a moment after it was finished, Faramir’s chest rising and falling rapidly, his eyes slightly glazed as he gazed up at the ceiling, trying to regain his reeling senses. Boromir knelt, panting, his head bent as droplets of sweat traced their way down the sides of his face and gleamed on the surface of his broad chest.

Finally, Boromir found the strength to ease his depleted member from Faramir’s body and move up to lie upon the pallet beside him. For a minute there was silence between the two of them, both of them contemplating the enormity of what had just happened.

Then, in the silence and the dim flickering light, Faramir’s voice came…....soft, steady. “Are you sorry?”

Boromir lifted his head from where he had been drifting into a pleasant post-coital doze, the question causing his brow to furrow slightly as he replied, “Sorry? Not at all.” He paused, then asked hesitantly. “Are you?”

“No,” Faramir said instantly, firmly. He now rolled onto his side to face his brother, slipping his arms around him as he said, “for how could I feel regret for having my deepest wish fulfilled?”

Now Boromir’s green eyes turned soft and slightly dreamy as he brought up his hand to stroke his brother’s face with a tenderness wholly out of keeping with the rough lovemaking so recently completed. “My dearest Faramir,” he murmured huskily. Then the small frown crossed his countenance again as he said, “I feared I might have been too aggressive with you. I know a gentler touch is usually required for someone’s first time, but I simply could not hold myself back. I wanted you too badly. I hope you can forgive me for that.”

Now it was Faramir’s turn to lift his head, a surprised expression on his face that was also partly amused. “First time? I beg your pardon, brother, but you seem to be laboring under a misconception. This was not my first time having relations of this sort.”

Boromir’s eyes widened with realization, and he suddenly raised his upper body on one elbow, staring at his brother. “Faramir? You are saying a man has taken you before now?”

The expression of amusement now deepening on Faramir’s face, he nodded and replied quietly, “yes, Boromir. That is precisely what I am saying.”

Now Boromir felt a flare of almost irrational jealousy and possessiveness shoot through him. “Who was he?” he asked menacingly, his eyes flashing. The idea that someone had violated his innocent brother, nay had stole his very innocence from him, was suddenly intolerable.

But Faramir merely laughed softly at his brother’s sudden display of chivalry and said soothingly, “it matters not, dear Boromir. All that previous encounter did was to prepare me for when I could finally become yours, and that is all the importance I will place upon it.”

Relaxing and laying back down again, yet still scowling faintly, Boromir suddenly hooked a hand around the back of Faramir’s neck and pulled his head down to his, taking his mouth in a hard, passionate kiss. Then, just as abruptly, he pulled back again to look at Faramir, saying in a rough whisper, “you are mine, Faramir. Never forget that.”

“Never could I forget it, Boromir,” Faramir replied, his eyes filled with affection as he laid his head upon his brother’s solid chest, saying, “for you were my first love, and surely the greatest that I have ever known.”

Feeling so moved by Faramir’s admission that he was stunned to silence, Boromir could only embrace his brother, hugging him close and feeling more alive than he had felt in many a month. And that is how they remained through the night as they both drifted into a contented slumber.

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