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18 April 2010 | 3838 words
Title: Lust for possession
Warning: Character death
Summary: What would you do if you lost forever the most loved person whom you had caused pain but had no chance to ask for forgiveness…
What would you do if your all next life were filled with despair and guilt…
What would you do?
This story was born after reading the story Crusade of Helmboy when I was so filled with great sadness and deep feeling of loss that couldn’t help but write my own story.
A/N: Chloe, thank you very much for your help and patience with my story. You’re wonderful beta!!!
Dear Ingrid, this story was for you. Get better, you’re dear to me!
Faramir tiredly headed for the stable. Sadness and strange remorse weighed heavily on his chest and like in the time of his father’s government he wanted to leave Minas Tirith as soon as it was possible.
He thought of how it could happen that even now when the situation in Gondor was quite another he had the same feelings of absolute emptiness and misunderstanding as it was several months earlier. His gift of comprehension of people was a gift from above but two persons were always beyond his understanding – his father and his King.
His King. Faramir could not help but smiled bitterly. Aragorn behaved strange. Like Denethor he was considerate towards his opinion about questions of Kingdom, but all that concerned their private relationships was quite a contrary. It was impressed in constant criticism and mockeries that Aragorn didn’t get tired with rebuking him, and Faramir guessed if it was his only appearance that would arouse such disgust in the King.
Faramir impatiently shook his head as he tried to put away a memory about morning remark. “Lord Faramir,” Aragorn said haughtily as the Steward unintentionally jogged his elbow, stumbling over footstep, “if you sometimes found time for putting away your hair from your face, you would not be so clumsy”. A blow. It was like a blow from behind and Faramir could not remember the last time he was so completely at loss for words, as he whispered in dismay, “Forgive me.”
“Faramir!” A sharp cry broke off his mirthless thoughts. Steward turned around and met a look of a man standing behind.
“Where are you going at this time of night?”
“A council that claimed my presence is finished and I decided to return at home in Ithilien.”
“I didn’t give you my permission for it,” Aragorn answered roughly and again Faramir felt like a child who has no rights at all.
“There is a ball tomorrow where you, as a Steward, should present also”.
“A ball, my Lord?” Faramir wondered. “I’ve known nothing about it. Éowyn…”
“I’ve already sent a message to the princess to go to Minas Tirith.”
“You didn’t tell me anything of it,” Faramir answered frostily, feeling as a rage grew inside.
“I’ve forgotten, perhaps…” Aragorn said. “Follow me.” And he made his way to the palace.
Faramir angrily moved behind guessing how he earned such abusive disrespect towards himself. Lost in his thoughts he didn’t notice how they ended up the private chambers of the King and Aragorn locked the door. Only as he understood where he was Faramir sharply turned around.
“Do you want to speak to me, sire?”
“Call me Aragorn,” Aragorn answered and his rough tone finally drove Steward out of his wits. Forgetting about respect Faramir angrily hissed, “What do you want, Aragorn?”
A mistake. The mistake was made in a twinge of rage. And this led to rage in return.
“You!” Aragorn hissed and at the same moment he aggressively captured the mouth of his Steward. Faramir was taken aback for a moment, lost in a deep kiss. The lips of his King were powerful and claiming and he felt as strong arms embraced him. But as his conscious returned to him he forcefully rested his hands on a King’s chest.
“Aragorn!” He cried trying to get free but that motion lead to the new wave of aggression in the King. He was roughly pushed down and losing his feet fell on a big sofa.
He had no time to understand what happened when the weight of a body covered his. Gripping Faramir’s hands above his head with one his arm, Aragorn began hurriedly to undo the laces of his Steward’s shirt. Having no strength even to move, Faramir felt a warm breath on his face and shivered as the strong hands of Aragorn touched his bare chest. Feeling as his own body began betraying him responding to coarse caresses of his King, Faramir sharply twitched, freeing his hands, but Aragorn adroitly caught him. And so, fighting with one another they smoothly slipped down on the floor with all pillows and blankets.
Faramir suddenly felt as his strength began to leave him. Why Aragorn was doing that to him and why was he resisting? He was a Steward in a realm where the King ruled, the Steward over whom the King ruled. So why was he resisting if the King wanted it? And as that thought flashed across Faramir’s mind he decided to succumb.
Having done that, he felt Aragorn’s action becoming smooth and gentle. And his every touch sent waves of hot desire through all his body. Faramir allowed himself to be entirely undressed and with closed eyes waited for Aragorn to take off his own clothes.
Then hot possessive lips touched his and he moaned with pleasure. His skin became aware of a fervent masculine body that covered him and Faramir suddenly realized how excitingly his body responded to that intimacy. He opened his mouth allowing Aragorn’s tongue to enter and his heart beat joyfully as a groan flied from the chest of his partner.
So, burning in fear of his lust, Aragorn kissed his Steward. Memories quickly changed one another in his head. He remembered how he anguished every time as he saw Faramir in a company of other men. Every one of them – guard or court, it seemed, adored him, searching for his company and constantly wandering around him when he arrived in Minas Tirith. Even Eowin who fell in love with Aragorn at first, look at his husband with eager affection and admiration, shooting jealous glares around. And with all of them Faramir was good. For all of them he always had a kind gentle word to say but with him, with his King he was always only courteous and polite.
All these thoughts stimulated new flow of irritation in Aragorn’s heart and gripping a box from the table by the sofa he began quickly oiling his aroused flesh. Not managing to prepare his partner to his intrusion he entered into Faramir with one fast motion. The body in his embrace arched in pain and Faramir screwed his eyes and lips to suppress a cry. But then all the pain passed and only two single tears left as a memory.
Aragorn started methodically moving, covering the face and upper body of his Steward with hot kisses. He felt as strong legs rounded him and thought with anger about the men who had the joy to take and give pleasure to this magnificent body.
Raising himself a little he touched the aroused flesh of his partner and began caressing it. Faramir let out constrained cry and Aragorn’s hand was filled with warm release. He captured full lips again and found his pleasure deep in Faramir’s beautiful body.
Powerlessly lowering himself on his lover Aragorn squeezed Faramir in his embrace.
Several minutes were needed to stop the tremble that took both of them over. Aragorn raised his head to regard his Steward who lay with closed eyes. His eyelashes cast a soft shadow on his cheeks while dark gold hair gently framed the beautiful oval of Faramir’s face. Aragorn felt as if he fell in love for the first time in his life. Slipping his arm under the Steward’s neck he carefully changed position putting the young man’s head on a pillow on the floor. His hands began tenderly sliding across the hot body perceiving his beauty.
Faramir was wordless. He tried not to think about what just happened. He thought of how rudely the King had possessed him and how loving he was now. Never opening his eyes Faramir asked, “May I be free?”
Aragorn looked at his face, surprised. Although his face was absolutely unreadable and serene, his voice seemed to be filled with despair.
Carefully moving aside Aragorn said, “You may, Faramir.”
Faramir stood up heavily and avoiding the King’s gaze, he quickly got himself dressed and left Aragorn alone. Aragorn tried not to think of how painful Faramir’s movements seemed to be and thoughtfully leaned against sofa, lowering his look. And froze. Blood! He couldn’t tear his eyes from it. Blood! He took indescribable pleasure ‘making love’ to Faramir and didn’t even think of how his partner felt.
He bitterly lowered his head. Is this a worthy treatment towards beloveds? Jealousy mastered him so much that he has forgotten all! And now when he had satisfied his lust, having taken what he considered as must-being only his, he took everything. He understood it suddenly – Faramir has never been close to men earlier, at least so much, and he, Aragorn, turned his first time in horror.His heart prompted him to look for Faramir and beg for forgiveness quite now but his mind said that it was no business to hurry. So shaking his head Aragorn tiredly lowered himself onto the sofa whispering quietly, “Oh, Faramir, please forgive me for it.”
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The following people read the story, enjoyed it, and would like to thank the author: pinbot , waterwolf , Ingrid , dream.in.a.jar