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03 March 2008 | 2392 words
Title: Something New
Author: Bell Witch
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Characters: Faramir, Rumiard (OMC)
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, shameless smut of no redeeming social value
Word Count: 2323
Disclaimer: I own nothing LotR-related (except the DVDs, which I bought) and am making no money from this.
Author’s Notes: Prompt 51: Yes in the 50_darkfics challenge. Written 26 Sept. 2006 (Yes, it’s been hanging out that long.) Thanks to el_esteleth for the beta. Faramir and Rumiard arc. Details inspired by Shiplizard. Also posted in faramir_fics Follows Prompt 55: No.
Faramir had been away in Henneth Annûn for months. That was not unusual in itself: it happened all the time. Faramir and Rumiard had been together for perhaps five years but the relationship was more accurately about six months old if they’d lived in the same city. What was unusual was the message that had been sent to Rumiard’s quarters—by Faramir. He’d expected something much longer than ‘I will be by later, stay in and wait for me –F’. Had it not so obviously been Faramir’s handwriting, Rumiard would have suspected a trick. Well, it was no real trouble to stay and wait for Faramir, so he stayed and waited.
Faramir arrived slightly past the hour for evening meal bearing a bottle, which Rumiard was at least pleased by. He was slightly less pleased by Faramir’s rather curt nod and the fact that he set the bottle down and continued into Rumiard’s bedroom forcing him to follow in his own home. Faramir was not like this, not so inconsiderate, and Rumiard wondered at first if he’d already been drinking although it didn’t seem like it.
“Have I done something?” he asked. He doubted that he had, for what could it be? He’d not seen Faramir in more than four months and really closer to five.
“Not yet you haven’t,” Faramir responded. “But you will and I think you will enjoy it quite a bit.” Faramir smiled as he closed the door to the small bedroom. He pointed to the plain chair. “Sit down. Put your arms on the arms of the chair and do not move them nor shall you say anything until I give you leave.”
Rumiard’s eyebrows went up sharply but he did sit down. He had a suspicion about what his lover was up to and a glance at the man’s leggings set into his mind that he was right. Well, after five months a man could build up a significant amount of want and Rumiard knew it. But why was Faramir acting like this? Could it be…? Rumiard’s mouth went dry as Faramir began to remove his own clothes, folding them and setting them neatly on the other chair.
“Being fully dressed does not make you in control here, Rumiard,” Faramir said conversationally. Was this payback for what Rumiard had done on his birthday? This was new, confusing, and so very unlike Faramir, always a considerate lover. Rumiard was brought back to the present when Faramir spoke again. “This is just to show you how things are with me right now.”
Rumiard could see exactly how things were with Faramir—-the man was in a severe state of arousal. Likely he’d had no time alone at all while he was away, no relief in any form. There was simply no privacy at Henneth Annûn and Rumiard did not envy that. But something exciting was going to happen here as a result and his curiosity was piqued and his own leggings were more than a little bit uncomfortable already. He could see Faramir completely as he lay down on Rumiard’s own bed.
“I dream of you,” Faramir began. After this, Rumiard was likely going to have a dream or two of his own. What was Faramir doing? Besides… taking himself into his own hand. It was all Rumiard could do to remain sitting as he’d been ordered. It had been an order, right? Yes, it seemed that way. He watched in fascination as Faramir’s hand began to move and then the man started to talk.
“I dream—-I’m sitting on the edge of my bed and you come to me, standing between my legs as I reach around to hold you, pull you to me. I urge you to stand just so and put my hands on your hips and my mouth on your stomach.” Faramir’s hand was not on his stomach but lower and it may as well have been on Rumiard himself. Faramir didn’t talk like this-—Faramir did not do this. This was something new and Rumiard couldn’t look away.
“I order you to clasp your hands behind your back—-even as you are to keep your hands on the arms of the chair right now-—and then I move down. I lick you as you do to me. I’ve done this to you a very few times now. My hands knead at your buttocks as I lick harder.” Faramir’s head turned to look at Rumiard, sitting as ordered. Faramir’s mouth was open slightly and his breathing was harsh. Rumiard’s was not so steady either. “I do this until you finally say ‘please’. By that time, I have a hand between your legs as well, petting. It takes a long time because you are stubborn. But ‘please’ you eventually say and I draw you in and put my mouth over you fully as you wish, sucking… sss… as… you… oh!”
Rumiard grit his teeth and swallowed heavily. It had taken a few minutes only and Faramir had… He had brought himself relief and left Rumiard sitting in a state of arousal and incredulity.
“Do you see, Rumiard? Five months, though it was not so bad at first.” He rose to clean his hand and fixed Rumiard with a look. “Do not answer, for I’ve not given you leave to speak yet.”
Rumiard nodded mutely, wondering what would happen next. This was fascinating. His gentle, quiet lover was acting… forceful: it was going straight to Rumiard’s groin.
“I have been wanting you so badly and soon I’ll have you. But I could not wait, else later I’d barely touch you and it would be over. That would be disappointing for you and so I hope that you don’t mind that I took matters into my own hands for the time being.”
Rumiard shook his head, eyes gleaming in the dim light. He didn’t mind at all. In fact, this was something he had longed for but not received. A rather unusual trait for a soldier—-Rumiard had a bit of difficulty with people telling him what to do. He wanted to fight, had that instinct, and so had suppressed that part of him that resented taking orders. He’d never really had anyone give them—-his mother hadn’t. But somewhere in him there was this wish. He wanted to be told what to do but by a very select group of people. And Faramir… Faramir could order him to do anything. He’d mentioned it before but Faramir had turned pink at the idea that he would tell a lover what to do like that. Something had changed and Rumiard could only thank the Valar for whatever it was that had brought Faramir to this point. He’d never spoken to Rumiard like this, never come so close, leaning in and smiling…
“Get up now, Rumiard. Take your clothes off. I will have you as soon as I am again ready but you must be ready also—-I do not wish to wait.”
Rumiard was out of the chair as soon as Faramir gave him enough room to stand. He listened enraptured, hands shaking as he tried to undress himself. Faramir was talking, telling him what he would do to Rumiard in that so-calm voice. But… Faramir was usually so quiet. He did not say these things, did not say that he would… Had Rumiard ever before heard Faramir use the word ‘fuck’? No… Faramir made love, he did not fuck, nor did he take or use or do any of the things he’d just said that he was going to do to Rumiard tonight. And the next statement made Rumiard stop completely.
“I have another order for you. Until I am finished with you there is only one word I wish to hear from you. That is yes. Do you understand?”
Rumiard nodded and realised that he could finally say something. “Yes.”
Faramir smiled. “Good. I love it when you say yes to me.”
What was he supposed to do now? He hadn’t been ordered to get on the bed so Rumiard waited as patiently as he could, biting his lip from sheer nerves.
“I know what it is that you desire and I am going to give it to you. I want you—-you can see it.” Faramir took a step closer and paused, his hand on Rumiard’s arm. He had to be able to see that Rumiard wanted him just as badly. The larger man watched as Faramir pulled out the jar of ointment and set it nearby. Soon… He was pulled close and could not help but gasp—Faramir had just grabbed his arse.
“You are mine. I am going to prepare you now and take you—-hard. I am going to take you harder than ever before and you’ll need both of your arms to hold yourself up. You won’t be able to touch yourself and I’ll not touch you either. If you don’t find your release from my riding you, you’ll not have one at all.”
Faramir was watching and had to be able to see how red he was. It wasn’t embarrassment but pure lust. Yes, he could see, because Faramir was now touching Rumiard’s burning face.
“Do you want me to do this to you?” It was lightly said but serious at the same time.
The brilliant smile was more like Faramir. It flashed briefly and then was replaced by a rather naughty look that was somehow pristine around the edges because Faramir hadn’t quite mastered it yet. It was beyond endearing—-this was all for Rumiard’s sake and that knowledge nearly made him sag to the floor. Faramir did this for him alone. Rumiard’s heart felt far more predatory than Faramir’s expression, though the man’s words were more effective.
“I am going to take you hard with no thought but to my own pleasure. I can tell how much you want that-—you’ve told me so. You want to please me, to have my weight on you and control you completely.”
“Yes,” Rumiard said, strained. It was true: he wanted that and never thought he’d get it from Faramir, even in play. But here was Faramir, taking him by the arm and pushing him forward, facedown on his bed and telling him to brace himself, slicking his fingers and sliding one then two… No teasing but steady, sure movements that were meant to prepare Rumiard yet also were driving him to distraction.
“Feels good and you’re nearly ready for me. Going to take you as I will. Do you want that-—to hear me tell you first that I’ll fuck you and then do it without mercy? You want that word and that action—-fucking.”
“Yes.” He was sweating beneath Faramir’s hands, moving on Faramir’s fingers and trying to push back until a hand on his waist stopped him.
“Don’t.” Faramir pulled his fingers out and cleaned them, pushed Rumiard’s legs further apart, bent over his back, aligned himself with the opening to his lover’s body. “If I go slowly it is not for your sake but because I want to enjoy the feeling of moving inside of you.”
Faramir pushed and groaned: Rumiard grit his teeth. As much as he wanted to ask for more, faster, it wasn’t allowed at this time and he wasn’t going to interrupt for anything.
“Been so long, Rumiard. You’re so tight around me.” Faramir moved slowly, barely entering and pulling back before moving in again. It was agonisingly slow, making both men tense with the need to go faster. Somehow Faramir knew when Rumiard was about to reach downward and finally began to go faster, so much faster that it was almost violent.
It was all Rumiard could do to hold himself steady while Faramir rutted him like a stag. That was the image he had—-a powerful animal taking a weaker one even though Rumiard himself was actually the stronger of the two. He didn’t feel it, not now. He felt full and possessed completely, grunting out at each powerful thrust. Sharp teeth dug into the muscle that joined shoulder to neck… Yes, yes, yes!
He was lost in a burning sea of want, returning to himself only when Faramir pulled gently away, a calm hand on Rumiard’s shoulder. One last question from Faramir—-‘did you come, Rumiard?’
“Yes.” And Rumiard gave a half-snort at that. Another crude word that Faramir didn’t use but it was so appropriate for this. It was not a gentle peak from lovemaking. He’d been fucked and he came.
Faramir chuckled too. “You can say anything you like now. The game is finished.” Faramir touched him gently, turning Rumiard to face him and threading the fingers of their hands together.
“I hope you enjoyed that. After your birthday I think I understand better about why you’d wish something like that. I thank you for showing me so that I can better give you what you want.” He looked up at Rumiard, smiling. “No matter what you call it, I still think of it as making love for I do love you.”
“I know.” It was so like Faramir and he did love the man, loved him so much sometimes it hurt. But this was… It was something else and it didn’t need to be filled with words. Let the actions speak for themselves.
Faramir was kissing him, something he usually enjoyed but now it just wasn’t right, wasn’t what was needed in this situation.
Rumiard knew that Faramir was making the attempt and that’s what was important. Perhaps he’d try again soon. Or… Faramir had tried this because of what he’d done to Faramir on his birthday so perhaps he could show Faramir something else and make him understand. Take and dominate without asking before or any of this afterwards. The two things did not belong together—Faramir didn’t understand it yet but he would. He’d learn.
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