Faramir Fiction Archive

To Learn You All Over Again (NC-17)

Written by Faramir_Boromir

16 September 2004 | 45422 words | Work in Progress

Title: To Learn You All Over Again: Privacy and Moonlight
By: Faramir_boromir
Pairing: Faramir/Boromir
Part: 3/?? Of To Learn You All Over Again
Rated: NC-17
Warnings: Brotherly incest. If this bothers you, read no further.
Archive: Just ask, I’ll probably say yes.
Disclaimer: If I owned the characters, my name would be Tolkien. It isn’t. They’re not. All homage to JRRT, but I’m sure he’d be spinning in his grave if he read this. Sorry.
Synopsis: The brothers try to find privacy and discuss where it will be safe for them to be together.

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Privacy and Moonlight

I lie on my side in the bed, watching the moon rise through the open window. It glides away, higher, until an edge disappears, sliver by sliver. In the distance, the mountain top of Amon Dîn is barely visible, a pleasant sight, yet it troubles me. I cannot see the moon rise from my own window at this time of year—only from my brother’s room can one glimpse a summer’s moon recede in the night sky, for the windows of his room face west, while mine face east.

Another way to know I am not in my own room. As if my brother’s body resting behind me were not evidence enough.

“What are you thinking about, Boromir?” comes a lazy voice, near the nape of my neck.

“The moon, love. The moon.”

With their father absent and servants dismissed, the two brothers sat with heads drawn together, speaking quietly of all they had done that day while apart, and what must be done to prevent others from discovering their secret. The conversation might have been delayed until they were out of the public hall, but there seemed little need. With no one in earshot, they kept voices low and gestures to a minimum.

The cavernous space dwarfed the two, seated across from each other at one end of a planked table. The remains of a roast chicken lay between them. Candles lit the hall, throwing shadows on the wall.

“Faramir, I will miss the morning and midday meals tomorrow, so you may be here for both.” With that, Boromir lifted a mug of mead to his mouth, washing away the taste of the simple meal.

“Where will you be? With your lieutenants?”

“Yes, the new eastern strategy must be planned, as Father requested, and I would have them speak their minds freely, which will only happen away from this house. Meetings over food will get their views with fewer reservations to hold them back, and give me another reason to miss meals with Father. You will have him to yourself tomorrow.”

Faramir finished draining his mug of cider before setting it back on the table and replying, “My thanks, Boromir.” That he delivered this comment with a hint of sarcasm was only to be expected. What could he anticipate but more criticism from their father? Yet the love they now bore for each other made it essential not to appear together in Denethor’s presence.

Boromir noted Faramir’s tone but said nothing. A heavy price you pay, brother. You gained my love but lost my shield against Father’s temper.

Faramir seemed a little distracted, but roused himself to speak directly to his brother. “I’ve been thinking about last night.”

The comment made Boromir laugh, a marked contrast to the room’s quietness before. “I’ve thought of little else this day, Faramir. Which part?” Smiles met across the table, each man remembering.

“The part where I said we must bolt the door of either room we are in. Will our two rooms be the only places we are together?” Faramir glanced at his brother speculatively, the question hanging between them.

“I thought we agreed, no risks? What would you have us do, lie naked beneath the White Tree—“

“No, Boromir, as pleasing an image as that is to my mind. I would know if our love is barricaded in those two rooms.”

“What are you proposing, Faramir?”

“There is a bolt on the door to the roof.” There, ‘tis said.

“And there’s a bolt on the door to the stables, but that does not make it a fit place for us to…indulge each other. Or would you have us go there now to ‘discuss tactics’ instead of your room?” Boromir’s face became stern, his eyes a little hard.

Holding up hands in submission, Faramir yielded. “Peace, brother. I did not mean to provoke you. I simply wondered what other places may be safe enough for us to have some…privacy.” The single word contained a wealth of new meaning for the two.

“I would be happy with you, your bed, and ‘privacy’ for a whole night. Have we need of any other?”

“Not so many, Boromir. But I would know your passion…by moonlight, for one.” Faramir’s face went pink once he finally said the words out loud. I care not if he thinks me unwell. It is important that he know.

The smile on Boromir’s face spread slowly, crinkling the edges of his eyes. Turning to the empty room, he made a loud announcement that mimicked those of grander gatherings. “Lords and ladies, my brother has declared his fondest wish.” More quietly, so that only the two could hear, he said, “Faramir, you will have your moonlight.”

The first two places they thought would be lit by the moon were both disappointments. The library had a door that could be bolted, but its windows faced south, not west, so seeing the moon would be nigh on impossible. Next, they scaled the narrow staircase from the servants’ quarters up to the roof, a darkened passage they knew well from younger adventures, lit now only by the candle Boromir carried before them.

After the long climb up the stairs, they discovered that access to the roof was denied them. Someone had secured the door with a key and taken the key away. “We will find out who has it tomorrow, and come here another night, brother.” Boromir placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, squeezed gently, then led the way down the steps. Faramir smiled at the words “another night,” and turned to follow his brother.

Retreating through the kitchens, Faramir reached out and tugged on Boromir’s tunic, drawing him towards the pantry. “Forced marches for no purpose make me thirsty.” Boromir nodded in agreement, following him into the small room off the kitchen. Finding mugs above the barrels, Faramir had just finished drawing some mead and cider into them, when he heard a gentle click and the room filled with darkness. The candle must have gone out.

“Boromir, go light anot—“

“Later, little one. In a moment.” And lips ringed by soft curls closed over his mouth, an arm wrapped around his waist. Even in the dark, Faramir’s eyes closed to focus his other senses on the man standing next to him. As Boromir’s mouth moved to trail kisses onto his throat, Faramir found his voice.

“No risks, brother. Our rule.”

Raising lips from skin, Boromir whispered, “I locked the door after me, and it is black as night in here. I will go no further than kissing you; there is no risk.”

You put out the candle deliberately. Mind beginning to drift, Faramir said hoarsely, “My hands are full, have a care.” He tilted his head back so his brother could nuzzle his throat more easily. The strong hand holding Faramir’s hip stopped him from swaying.

No marks. Leave no marks. All Boromir’s senses focused on kissing the soft skin leading from neck to ear, but he was lucid enough to remember his brother’s warning from the preceding evening not to mark him any place where others might see. Indeed, their activities from the preceding evening had bruised Boromir in ways that made arousal painful, but any pain he felt was overridden by other, more compelling demands his body was making on him.

Minutes passed as Boromir’s mouth roamed behind his brother’s ear, down to his throat. Faramir’s breath began to quicken as his brother licked a path from furred jawline round to the nape of his neck, pressing light kisses onto the boundary where hair stopped and open skin began. Madness. I can think of nothing else but kissing you.

Faramir felt his knees might buckle if Boromir persisted. “Enough, Boromir. Lead us out of here, before I drop these.” He put a firm elbow into his brother’s chest, to get his attention.

Boromir opened his eyes, but in darkness saw nothing. Running a hand down his brother’s arm, he found the mug in Faramir’s hand, and took it from him. Reaching for the door with his other hand, Boromir slid the bolt back and pushed, pale firelight greeting him from the kitchen hearth. He picked up the candle he’d doused, and relit it from glowing coals in the fireplace. He felt Faramir’s hand upon his shoulder and turned to see his brother gazing at him intently.

“My room. Now.” The hand on his shoulder steered him to the passage that would take them to their rooms by the shortest route. Boromir thought wryly, I’m no longer the only one who found dinner insufficient. Good.

The two men strode swiftly through the corridor, Faramir behind his brother, shoulder still under his fingers. Boromir pushed the door to his brother’s room open and moved inside only a foot or so, leaving barely enough room for Faramir to enter after him. The room was cold, the fire out, he noticed. As soon as he was beside Boromir in the room, Faramir shoved the door shut with his shoulder and leaned his back against it. With his free hand he grabbed a handful of Boromir’s tunic to draw him close, close enough to see by the sputtering candle his brother held.

“If you do that again…” Faramir warned, arm now around Boromir’s waist, holding him tightly. His lips seized his brother’s, a kiss needy with pent-up emotion. Boromir found it hard to respond with both hands occupied by candle and mug, but he met Faramir’s hunger as best he could. Eventually he pulled his head back and asked, voice deeper than normal, “If I do that again, what?”

Blue eyes opened, hazed over, unfocused. “I will have to find a new way to thank you.” And Faramir leaned forward once more, securing Boromir’s mouth, a questing kiss this time. Seeking, searching for the same need in his brother. The desire flooding through Faramir’s kiss caught Boromir with such force that he dropped the candle, put his hand against the door, began pressing his chest into the younger man’s. Faramir felt Boromir press a leg between his and he parted his legs, their arousals now close enough to rub against each other through layers of clothes. Long moments passed as tongues entwined, mouths slid against each other, heat built between them.

“Mbormrhhh,” Faramir said into his brother’s mouth, minutes later.

A tug on the back of Boromir’s shirt. I’m busy. Tongue far back in Faramir’s mouth, Boromir’s mind was no longer focusing.

“Mbormrhhh” again.

What? And he tore his mouth from Faramir’s. Impatiently, he said through ragged breaths, “What must you say that will not wait?” The room’s near darkness made seeing anything but the closest objects difficult.

“Stop spilling your mead.” And Faramir motioned to the floor with his eyes.

Boromir looked down, saw the wet patch down the side of Faramir’s breeches, the candle quenched in the puddle beneath their boots. Boromir quickly righted the mug, saving some of the contents.

“Oh.” And he looked back up into Faramir’s dancing eyes, a warm mixture of love and humor there. Both men grinned, Boromir with a touch of embarrassment. “Sorry.”

The mood between them broken by this discovery, Boromir pulled back from his brother, fingers inscribing a soft salute on Faramir’s cheek before he turned to walk into the room. Despite the room’s darkness, he found a cloth near the hearth, returned and knelt to wipe up the mead, putting his tankard on the floor while he did so.

Meanwhile, Faramir bolted the door and placed his mug on the bedside table, along with other things pulled from his pocket. He stooped to pick up the mug of mead from the floor, and stood it next to his own on the stand. Then he knelt beside his brother, a hand stealing across Boromir’s broad back, drawing green eyes to his blue ones.

“That can wait. I cannot.” He leant toward his brother, pressing his face into Boromir’s hair, moving his nose behind his brother’s ear, planting a kiss there. “Come.” Placing a hand under Boromir’s arm, he drew his brother up from the stone floor, took the cloth from him so it could be dropped on the floor.

Side by side, the two walked to the bed, Faramir turning when he got to the edge so he faced Boromir. Grasping his brother’s shirt by its hem, he pulled it up and over Boromir’s head, tangling his arms in the sleeves only briefly. A whole day spent in thoughts of this moment.

Boromir did the same, tugging Faramir’s tunic off of him, eyes lingering on his brother’s taut chest as it was revealed. Strong. My handsome Faramir. And he bent his head to lay short kisses across his brother’s torso.

Callused fingers pushed hair away from his face, wove into his unruly mane and caressed the back of his head. Looking up, he found Faramir’s eyes fixed on him, happiness, joy radiating there. Smiling, he returned to exploration, kisses interspersed with tongue trails. Hands locked on Faramir’s waist for support, he moved to kneel in front of his brother, the leather stretched tight across Faramir’s bulging form.

As Boromir began unlacing the breeches to release him, Faramir looked down, trying to restrain his impatience. Brother, you know my thoughts before I have them. Boromir’s mouth kept busy, licking the skin above the waist of Faramir’s breeches, while his hands fought the laces, which seemed to have knotted. His fumbling fingers made little headway. Finally, he pulled back and glanced up at Faramir, frustrated. “Help?”

Nodding, Faramir took charge of his own clothing, saying, “I’ll grapple with this knot, but I want to see you as you undress. Come stand by the window.” He walked to the casement, the one part of the room with any light, where he worked to free the snarled laces.

Boromir moved slowly towards the window, still shut against the night air. Mottled beams flowed in through diamond-shaped panes, some clear, others dimly opaque. Moonlight, he realized. Is this why he thought of moonlight?

While unlacing his own breeches, Boromir questioned his brother. “You have moonlight through this window. Why did you want to go elsewhere for it?” His boots came off with two faint thuds, followed by the rest of his clothes. He stood closer to Faramir, pushing his erect shaft so that it rubbed against his brother’s clothing, closing his eyes briefly as he did so.

“Because I dare not open this window to let it fall upon you. There are others who would see, if enough light came from this room.” Hands still busy, he gestured with his head towards a watchtower, a distant slender spike in the western night sky.

Boromir observed it briefly, before turning back to regard his brother’s face. “Light out or casement shut, we remain hidden. Still studying concealment, I see.” He leaned his forehead against Faramir’s, releasing a long breath, closing his eyes again. Faramir renewed his efforts to remove the knot Boromir had created in his laces and finally untangled it.

Faramir said, “At least on the roof, I know no one could see us.” His earlier passion had waned some, as emotions were overrun by new thoughts. A pause, then a little forlornly, “I wish…”

“What do you hope, Faramir?” The muted ache in Faramir’s voice caught at Boromir’s heart, any desire secondary to his brother’s wish.

I think of things that cannot be. Voice strong again, Faramir dismissed the fancy. “I wish again for something I should not. Yesterday I wanted you; tonight I have you. I should rest content with that.” Faramir bent down to remove his boots, tossing them next to his brother’s before sliding the breeches down and stepping out of them. The cold stone floor beneath his feet started to chill him.

Boromir spoke as a commander, though not loudly. “Faramir, look at me.” The younger man straightened to attention, stood before his brother. Faramir had to smile, the order so at odds with their state of undress. “What are you thinking? Tell me your wish, little brother.”

Faramir’s head started to drop, then he raised it again, looking directly at his brother. “I wish…I could tell everyone how I feel about you. It’s a foolish thought, I know. But…my heart is pained, knowing we can tell no one. Ever.”

Secrecy. Another price you pay for loving me, Faramir. For me, you are worth any number of lies, but for you…. Truthtelling is your nature. Small lines crossed Boromir’s brow, as he looked down at his brother’s hand.

“And you, Boromir? What are you thinking?” A loving touch upon his chest, Faramir’s fingers glided softly over his heart.

The older man hesitated before answering. “That you deserve better than me.” Faramir rapidly shook his head side to side, instantly disagreeing, but Boromir continued, “Someone who would shout your name from the battlements, love you openly. You should not have to hide what you feel. Someone who could protect you. After only one day, I loathe that you must withstand Father’s taunts at meals without me beside you.” He gripped Faramir’s upper arms, then released them to pull his brother into a loving embrace.

Faramir spoke quietly into his brother’s ear. “His words do not wound as they used to. And you are mistaken, love, about what I deserve.” Faramir pulled back, so he could see his brother’s face washed in moonlight, set his mind at rest. “There is none better, and I will have no other. You are everything to me, Boromir. Everything.” Wrapping his arms around Boromir’s waist, he kissed his brother’s neck, offering reassurance.

“Deserved or not, your love is all in all to me, Faramir. I did not know how much I needed it until yesterday.” He nudged his brother away from the casement, toward the bed. “I will open the window. If we use no light, it should not matter. The bed is not high enough to be seen anyhow.”

Faramir reached the bed, sat down, and watched as Boromir opened the window so that moonlight now streamed into the room, though it did not yet cross the bed. Whispering, he warned, “There is risk in this, Boromir.”

Boromir responded just as softly. “If we are quiet, no sounds will carry. Without lights in the room, none will see. No risk.” He crossed the room to sit on the bed beside his brother, and placed an arm around Faramir’s firm shoulders. Their exchange continued in hushed tones.

Faramir said, “I remember your words, brother, about learning me all over again. It seems I must do the same and learn you again as well. You enjoy skirting the edge of risk, don’t you?” He reached over to the bedside table, picked up one of the two small jars he placed there earlier.

Boromir replied. “Sometimes. When the goal is worth the risk. I would see you by moonlight also, for selfish reasons.” Puzzled, Boromir sat watching his brother open the container. As the faint scent of fresh herbs and oil reached him, he knew what it was. You’ve been to my room, collected the salve.

“What reasons?” Faramir pushed his brother back onto the bed, then crouched over him, waiting.

“That I might remember the two of us together, like this, in moonlight. No matter how far apart duty takes us, I can look up to the moon and know you see it also, and know you think of me.” Boromir reached up to stroke his brother’s face.

Dark though it was, enough light was cast in the room for Boromir to see Faramir’s reaction. Surprise, followed by bewildered happiness. Boromir, how did you know?

I guessed, brother. Knowing you love me beyond all else.

Faramir whispered, “That was why I wanted us to go to the roof also.” And he lowered his head to kiss Boromir tenderly, as if his whole heart were contained in one kiss.

When their lips finally parted, Faramir asked in a low voice, “Boromir, can you tend my wounds again? Even by moonlight you will see more than I.” The older man nodded, and moved from beneath him, so that Faramir could lie on his stomach.

Sitting up, Boromir grasped the open-topped jar, put ointment on his finger, and began applying it as he had done the night before. The three cuts were much smaller, and Faramir did not flinch at his touch. Better. He smeared more of the salve on his fingertip, and carefully moved it inside his brother, gently spreading the substance until he could feel it no more. When he removed his finger, there was no blood. Another improvement from last night.

A second application of salve in his brother’s opening had Boromir thinking very different thoughts. Seeing Faramir’s slicked rear, and his finger inside his brother gave rise to carnal notions that caused him to stiffen again. Hand shaking a little, he withdrew the finger after he had finished smearing the ointment as far within as he could reach. As he did so, he heard Faramir release a heavy breath. He leaned over his brother, close to his ear. “Pain, Faramir?”

“Its opposite, brother.” Faramir rolled onto his back, revealing a firm erection. “You were careful. Feeling you within me is what I crave, but that must wait a few days more. Get the blanket, Boromir.”

Boromir rose, retrieved the key from its customary hiding place, unlocked Faramir’s chest and withdrew the blanket. Walking back to where his brother now stood, he realized that the moonlight had edged closer to their resting place. He laid the blanket across the bed, then saw that Faramir held the second jar in his hand. “What is that, Faramir?”

“My thanks for your tribute of last night. If you will accept them.” Faramir smiled a little shyly as he spoke. “Lie down, Boromir.” You will enjoy this. Sweets are a weakness with you.

“I need no thanks, but if you offer them, I accept, little brother.” Boromir slid onto the blanket, resting his head on one of the pillows. Faramir took the lid off the jar, slid a few fingers into it. Boromir could not see the jar’s contents. What is he doing?

Faramir moved one finger to his mouth, then placed the finger on the crown of his erection. With the rest of his hand, he grasped his shaft and began to rub up and down, a sight Boromir could not take his eyes from. “You said you liked the flavor of me, but that I was a little salty. I need you to discover if I taste the same way tonight.” Faramir placed one knee beside Boromir’s waist and moved so that he straddled his brother. His eyes were already on Boromir when the older man spoke.

“I will like how you taste, salty or not. What would you have me do, Faramir?”

Moonlight now played at the fringes of the bed, slowly creeping across the pillow where Boromir’s head rested. Boromir’s question joined the brothers’ eyes to each other, Boromir expectant, Faramir slightly amazed. Both men recognized Boromir’s question as something new, a subtle change to their love.

He could have commanded an answer from Faramir—in truth, Faramir had been waiting for this—by asking “what are you thinking?” In the Thinking Game, it gave the questioner power, the right to a truthful answer in exchange for the promise of the same. But Boromir chose otherwise. “What would you have me do?” was the reverse of their familiar query: the questioner now offered obedience, with none required in return.

A hint of gratitude mingled with the desire in Faramir’s face. He looked down at his brother, answering, “Something I hope you will want as I do.” Faramir placed one hand on the headboard and shifted his knees forward bit by bit. When they were pushed beneath his brother’s arms and could go forward no farther, what Faramir wanted was obvious. Taste, Boromir. Boromir reached back and bunched the pillows behind his head, raising his eyes level with Faramir’s waist. Placing a hand on his brother’s hip and guiding him closer, he lifted his head even more, mouth open.

When Boromir’s lips gained their prize, the sweetness surprised him. Honey. Faramir, you tempt me enough without this, but…how good this is. At first, his tongue swept lightly up the shaft that Faramir had rubbed with a thin layer of honey, catching some of it in his beard. Then Boromir decided Faramir’s gesture deserved one in return.

Boromir did not remove all the syrup at once, but used his lips and tongue to clean only a small part near the base. He alternated licking Faramir’s stiff flesh with gentle sucking on the tissue hanging beneath his erection, slowly working his way up the thickened shaft, but avoiding the top until last. Advance and retreat, little brother. You will recognize it, surely.

His slow progress provoked exactly the reaction he wanted. Long moments passed as his tongue teased his brother. Finally, his goading caused Faramir to hiss, “Deliberate…provocation will bring…retaliation, Boromir.”

As his mouth sucked the last of the sugary flavor from the tip of his brother’s erection, the mixture of sweet with a few drops of salt struck him with renewed force. I’ll never eat honey again without thinking of this night. Eru, Faramir, the taste of you!

His ears barely caught the small sounds Faramir made in his chest, but he heard nothing more from his brother’s mouth. Looking up he saw Faramir, face now visible in the moonlight, eyes clenched shut, teeth biting down hard on his lower lip while he struggled against himself to make no sound.

Boromir reached up with his hand, grasped Faramir’s arm and tugged on it, indicating with hand and head he wanted his brother to lie beside him again. Faramir let go of the headboard, and moved to stretch out in the shelter of Boromir’s arm. The feelings his brother had roused were so strong, Faramir could not resist rolling on top of Boromir to press their bodies together. But the contact brought a wince to the older man’s face, evident now as the moon’s brightness lit his features. Repentant, Faramir knew he should have remembered Boromir’s injuries from their first time together mirrored his own.

“Sorry, Boromir.” And Faramir gingerly lifted his weight from his brother, shifting so that he could take hold of the other open jar on the bedside table. I should have done this sooner.

With the container of ointment laid on Boromir’s chest, Faramir dipped a few fingers in it, then placed them carefully on the few bruised patches he saw remaining on his brother’s solid erection. Once, he heard Boromir’s abrupt intake of breath as he pressed too firmly near a bruise. But the salve was working: the abrasions and cut on his shaft were nearly healed. Tomorrow, perhaps, might I touch you without fear of hurting you. Boromir said nothing as Faramir ministered to the hurt places, simply rested there, watching.

Turning blue eyes to meet Boromir’s green ones, Faramir drew out a little more of the salve. He waited to gauge his brother’s reaction as his fingers slid down, past the slick engorged shaft. Will you want this? I am still discovering your passions, Boromir. His fingers sought and found the small opening, beneath his brother’s erection, sliding slippery fingertips gently around the circle. Green eyes widened, then settled back on Faramir’s face, searching it. This is your desire, Faramir…something else I did not know. But should have guessed.

Their words came in sharp whispers. “Boromir, if you do not want—“

His brother cut in, “I know what you are thinking, so I need not ask what you want. But you need not ask me either. Remember? Never doubt that I want you.

“I do not doubt, Boromir. I only want to know what you desire. What would you have me do?” Faramir’s question deliberately repeated Boromir’s earlier request, showing that he understood their new language of submission rather than command.

“I would have you never stop, never give ground, until your desire is sated.” With those words, Boromir took a little of the ointment on his fingers, and lowered his hand until he felt Faramir’s erect flesh and began to cover his length with a firm caress. Two days ago, I could not have imagined us together thus. Now I cannot imagine us parted for the world.

Faramir moved the jar from his brother’s chest to the table, taking a last fingerful of salve as he left the container behind. Now, as moon glow bathed his brother, he saw the wariness in Boromir’s eyes. “Tell me, brother, what you doubt.”

“Faramir, I doubt only myself. Long years have passed since I was last….” He frowned, then pressed onward. “I have grown used to finding my pleasure as we did last night. I would not disappoint you, that is all, in something I have seldom done.”

So that is your concern, Boromir. “You could not displease me. And I will try not to disappoint you either.” And Faramir pushed the fingertip with ointment within his brother’s opening, slowly, carefully spreading the substance. “We must each learn the other anew, as you said.”

With those words, Faramir leaned forward and caught Boromir’s lips in a slow kiss, one that possessed and demanded a response. The answer came almost instantly, as fire leaps when fuel is added. Boromir captured his tongue, pulled it to the back of his mouth, hungry for more. A hand on Faramir’s shoulder guided him to move between Boromir’s legs, parted, waiting.

Faramir tried not to take his lips from his brother’s, but could not, as he knelt where Boromir had urged him. He pulled Boromir’s thighs towards him, draping them over his own, erections reuniting again briefly. He reached a hand out to touch Boromir’s chest, looked at his brother, stretched out in moonlight, ready, expectant.

I desire this. But only if you do as well. I would please you, Boromir. Using his salve-coated fingers, he guided the tip of his erection to his brother’s slicked opening. Slowly, he nudged the crown inside, paused, looked quickly to his brother’s face for a reaction.

Boromir nodded, a silent affirmation to proceed. Faramir pushed forward, stopping at intervals, deliberately waiting for Boromir to become accustomed to the growing intrusion. I knew you would be a considerate lover, Faramir. I did not know how considerate. That feels…oh, Eru. Faramir… Once Faramir was fully seated within his brother, he turned again to Boromir for approval.

This time, Boromir did not nod. “As lovers, we are equals, Faramir. Do not await my consent for all you would do.” Comprehending, Faramir nodded and leaned forward from the waist, the added pressure pushing him deeper within his brother.

Wrapping both arms around the older man’s chest, Faramir used his strength to pull himself forward then back, forward again, rocking slowly inside Boromir. The steady thrusts gained force and speed for a time, then resumed a slower rhythm. Advance, withdrawal.

The moon’s glow no longer on his own face, Boromir watched the light fall on Faramir’s shoulders, his powerful back glistening from the exertion. My beautiful little one. I do not deserve you. The tension in their bodies marked the room, a trace of musk growing in the air.

As he thrust and pulled back, Faramir licked Boromir’s chest, the sweat from it merging with the moisture beading on his own face. Every so often, he looked up the well-lit torso, seeking Boromir’s face, before shutting his eyes and falling into the rhythm again.

The slickness of his brother’s torso caused him to slip, losing his leverage. He withdrew his arms from under his brother, and placed them on top of Boromir’s arms, using them to pull his weight forward. The changed feel of his brother’s hands brought Boromir’s eyes open, readjusting to the bond between them. He began using his strength to pull Faramir towards him, hands gripping sweaty arms tightly. Breathing ragged, labored, echoed in the silent room. The two men now watched each other, worked together, urging each other towards a goal only the two of them could reach.

Each thrust of Faramir’s felt slightly different, as the angles of his body changed inside his brother’s. One movement found a welcome spot within Boromir, wresting a strangled “nnhh” from his lips. Having found it, Faramir never intended to leave. He strained, kept his motions identical, concentrated every muscle to repetition. Not there. There. Yes. Again, brother. I would see your passion once more.

One idea, alone, over and over: Faramir. No longer coherent, Boromir’s lips stifled little words Faramir hardly heard. Soon. Mmmhh. Faster. Faramir’s body, slotted so firmly into his, seemed closer than his own. With every push, his brother’s body brushed the hard erection; within, the pressure grew, each plunge driving him nearer the edge. The familiar sharpening, tensing, as his release approached. Insistent. Overwhelming. Blinding.

“Faramir.” Arrived. Pressure gone, a flood across his stomach.

A thrust, one last gentle blow, then his ears filled with Faramir’s exhausted cry. A sharp spasm within, a final touch of his brother’s desire.

Boromir laid in the bed, watching the moon rise through the open window. It glided away, higher, until an edge disappeared sliver by sliver. In the distance, the mountain top of Amon Dîn was barely visible, a pleasant sight, yet troubling, for him. From his own room, he would not see the moon rise at that time of year—only from Faramir’s room could one glimpse a summer’s moon recede in the night sky, for the windows of his room faced west, while Boromir’s faced east.

It reinforced the strangeness of it all for Boromir, proof that he was not in his own room. As if his brother’s body resting behind him was not evidence enough.

“What are you thinking about, Boromir?” came a lazy voice, near the nape of his neck. Boromir knew Faramir wasn’t asleep, for their fingers had laced together above the blanket a few moments earlier. Faramir knew Boromir wasn’t asleep from the sound of his breathing. How could he be, with a heart still racing from what Faramir had done to him only minutes before?

“The moon, love. The moon.”

“Are you grown poetic, brother?”

“No, Faramir, though sometimes I wish I had skill enough to write poetry as you do. You are the only wordsmith in the family. But if I could, I would invent a new way to praise your gifts.”

“What do you think on, when you see the moon?”

“That I should not, Faramir. From my room, I do not see the moon rise at this time of year.”

“Ah.” Faramir’s grip on his hand tightened. “I would have you see them all, from this bed or the roof, in your passion.”

“That would please me, little one.”

Faramir raised himself on one elbow, so that he could look down on his brother’s face. Boromir rolled onto his back, seeing Faramir by the little moonlight that remained in the room.

“Rest here a while, Boromir, that I may watch you in the privacy of our moon.”

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