Faramir Fiction Archive

A Breach in His Defenses (PG)

Written by Kissa

29 February 2008 | 841 words

Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me. I merely use them for entertainment purposes and promise to put them back as soon as the story ends.
Author’s Note: written for the 25fluffyfics table.
Prompt: 3. Sport

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They were battling for dominance, each struggling to overpower the other. Champion and challenger clashed in a loud unbearable screech of metal on metal when their blades came together. They parted once more, held each other at arm’s length and eyed each other defiantly. Tiger and cheetah, dancing menacingly in a circle traced only in their minds…

“Faramir, your guard is too high and your stance is unbalanced!” the sword master admonished, and his young student made the needed corrections. “You are giving Boromir too many chances and time to assess your vulnerability!”

And Boromir smiled knowingly, one corner of his mouth rising in delight at the thoughts and visions which plagued his mind at the time. Aye, he was assessing his little brother’s vulnerability… and he was finding it beyond delightful. There was something utterly stirring about his little brother growing and transforming under his very astonished eyes, from a hesitant, shy boy into a skilled warrior who was very near to becoming his match.

And what Boromir knew was that his years of practice would soon be outmatched by Faramir’s strategic thinking and finer technique. It was only a matter of time before his little brother learned it too.

Lost in his musings as he was, he was brought back to reality by stinging pain in the right side of his bare chest. A trickle of blood mixed with his sweat as it glided down his skin. Looking up, he saw the tip of Faramir’s saber and his blood on it right before the weapon dropped noisily onto the pavement. Faramir looked at him, horrified; covering his mouth with his palm in what Boromir knew was a trademark gesture.

They had been fencing frantically since dawn and he had been caught off guard. It was just a scratch really, but his warrior’s pride had been cut more deeply by the thought his little brother had breached his defense. He wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone else, but Faramir had unconsciously taken advantage of his brother’s greatest weakness: him.

Because Boromir had been watching him for some time, watching his clumsy, endearing efforts to act and look manly although he was still a frail little boy, but one who already possessed the skills to compensate the lack in strength and size.

He looked up lazily, feasting his eyes on the sight of the white, fine-boned heaving torso of his brother, who was reaching into his pocket for a piece of clean cloth to press on the wound. Reaching out shyly, Faramir used the cloth to wipe away the trickle of blood, but more soon flowed out, and his eyes suddenly changed, his pupils dilating and his orbs nearly popping free from their sockets. Before Boromir knew it, Faramir’s tongue and lips were on his chest, a hair’s breadth from his nipple which had already tightened from the chill of the outside air and from his earlier thoughts.

He let out a growl, but luckily his brother mistook it for pain and said, as if to justify himself:

“I’m sorry for that, but it will stop the bleeding sooner.” And with those words, Faramir retreated, looking utterly mortified for having hurt his brother, going to look for the salve he always carried along when he went to the training fields. In all honesty, Faramir looked forward to tending to his brother’s injury, his fingers already tingling with the ghost-feeling of his brother’s skin beneath them.

Boromir caught up with him and put an arm over Faramir’s shoulders, pinching his cheek and saying:

“Oh come on little one, it’s just a little scratch! What sort of a swordsman do you think I am to not be able to take the inherent risks of the sport? Now, be a good sport yourself and give your brother a kiss to call it even. Right… here.” He finished and pointed at his cheek.

Faramir smiled, relieved to see his brother wasn’t upset with him, and leaned up on tiptoe to kiss him, but at the last moment Boromir seemed to change his mind and turned his face so that his soft lips encountered Boromir’s.

If this is my consolation, I would lose every duel with you, my sweet one! Flew through Boromir’s mind just before Faramir slid a smaller hand around his own and tugged at it, beckoning him back to the training field.

“Want a rematch?” Faramir asked, an impish look in is eyes.

Boromir knew he had to. Because gods, he was tempted!

END

Kissa’s 25fluffyfics

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