Faramir Fiction Archive

Devoid of Love (R)

Written by Minx

29 March 2004 | 11953 words

Chapter 6

When Legolas awoke a few hours later, the sun was up and the steward was sitting on a chair by his bed watching him, a slight hint of apprehension in his face. Their eyes locked and he smiled lovingly at the young man, who in turn relaxed visibly. Any sign of worry or fear left his face, and he smiled back, a genuine smile from deep within. He arose from his chair, and sat by Legolas on the bed, and placed a finger on the topmost binding of his tunic. Legolas stared at him incredulously, as he uncurled it with his finger, and began pulling it out, exposing the V of his throat and torso.

“Faramir!” Legolas rasped out as the steward ran his finger lightly across his exposed skin, setting up a tingling feeling. He moaned at the touch, and licked at his dry lips in anticipation. More bindings came off, and soon his chest was exposed to the cool, fresh air blowing in from outside. Faramir lightly ran a hand over his torso, exclaiming at the smoothness of the fair skin.

“You are beautiful,” he gasped at the elf. He grasped at his leggings, and then looked to the elf’s eyes as if seeking permission. Legolas nodded, and lifted himself up slightly as Faramir pulled them off. Faramir stared at him and repeated huskily, “So beautiful.”

Bending down, he began to kiss Legolas all over his body. He nipped playfully at the pointed ears, licked his cheek, showered kisses on his neck and then licked at his throat. Legolas simply sighed in pleasure, and lay limp and unresisting under the other’s ministrations. The man sucked at his nipples, tugging them lightly, causing him to moan loudly, a kiss on his navel made him smile, and then the hand wrapped around his shaft sent another cry out of his throat. Faramir rubbed his hands up and down it, causing Legolas to cry out again. Faramir took him in his mouth, uncertainly at first but when Legolas voiced his pleasure, he set at it with gusto and for the next few minutes Legolas was in a state of rapture he had not experienced in a very long time.

He grabbed Faramir’s shoulders and gripped them tightly shuddering all along, his body reacting with joy to the caresses and kisses of his lover. He came screaming out the steward’s name over and over again.

“Faramir!”

When it was over they lay in each other’s arms.

Legolas kissed Faramir lightly on his lips, “You were wonderful.”

Faramir smiled shyly, “Will you not return the pleasure?”

Legolas grinned broadly, and reached for the young man’s robe to pull it off. Faramir stopped him, “Will you make love to me as you did last night?” he asked. Seeing the apprehension in the elf’s eyes, he explained, “I did want it, but - but - I was not sure you did. Will you make love to me again, so I can feel that wonderful feeling again?”

Legolas shook his head, “Not as last night, I was too rough. You are still hurt. We must wait till you have recovered. And then I will be gentle.”

“I like you rough,” Faramir teased, “My big bad elf.”

“My little human,” Legolas teased back, as he pulled Faramir’s robe off. Roving his eyes over the now naked body, he amended it, “My beautiful little human.”

“You are so lovely,” he gasped, as Faramir flushed under his scrutiny, “I could stare at you forever,” he whispered huskily, as he began kissing him. Faramir moaned at the tender touch, squealing in delight when nipped at his neck. He was ticklish and Legolas soon realised that and every now and then gave the young man a small tickle that would set him off giggling, and would arouse the elf even further.

“Please,” Faramir finally groaned unable to hold back any longer. So Legolas took him in his mouth and gave Faramir the undiluted pleasure he himself had just experienced.

“I love you,” Faramir whispered as they lay entwined around each other a few minutes later.

“And I love you,” Legolas replied, holding him closer.

---

The wind blew through the thick blades of grass in a tiny glade on the banks of the Anduin, where a man and an elf stood together by the river’s edge. The man was cleaning himself up by the river.

“A human who keeps clean!” Legolas sighed in pleasure, “I thought the like never existed.”

Faramir smiled, “Do you like Ithilien so far, my prince?”

“I certainly do. My people will be happy here.”

“I am glad,” Faramir whispered softly.

It was two days after they had professed their love for each other. They had ridden down to Ithilien so Legolas could see the area where the proposed elven colony in Ithilien was to come up. He had been overjoyed when Faramir had received Ithilien as his princedom - now they would be in such close proximity.

They had stopped for a rest in a small clearing by the river. Faramir had fallen slightly ill after his exposure to the cold and had spent an entire day in bed, with Legolas hovering nearby and making hidden, lewd gestures that had made him laugh and anyone else in the room, give him puzzled glances. The others had seemed pleasantly surprised to see the cordiality with which Legolas now treated the steward but said nothing else. If the healers thought anything of the bruises and even more so of the love bites all over their steward’s body, they had said little. Aragorn however had muttered something about dwarven ales, and the healers had tried hard to hide their smiles for they knew the night of drunken revelry had affected many the same way. A day later, Faramir had insisted he needed the fresh refreshing air of Ithilien, and that he was just a little out of sorts, so the pre-appointed ride for Ithilien had not been cancelled.

Faramir went to lie down for a while on the grassy bank, while Legolas cleaned himself up. When Legolas turned round he found the steward completely naked on the grass lying on his side, and smiling at him. He cocked up an eye and came and sat down by him, gulping at the sight of his lover’s beautifully sculpted body.

“Faramir, put your clothes back on, you will aggravate your cold,” he admonished picking up the other’s clothes.

Faramir reached a hand out and stopped him. Sitting up, he grabbed both his hands and said, “Make love to me, Legolas, here, for when we return there is always a constant stream of visitors in both our rooms. Make love to me now.”

Legolas looked into the pleading grey eyes and succumbed promptly. Faramir was right. Unless the entire citadel was recovering from a drunken orgy, they would not give them a moment’s piece. Always, people trooped in and out of either’s room.

“Wait,” he said lovingly. Walking over to a tree nearby, he knelt and gently plucked at a few stems from a plant growing wild. He squeezed them, allowing a clear oil to flow out and then seated by his lover rubbed it into him. Then he slid his finger in widening it, lovingly and slowly, eyes always on the man so he’d know if he was hurting him. But all that was visible on the young face was pure joy and contentment as he entered him, and they were soon in the throes of passion.

They rode back in a companionable silence.

“If Gimli does not leave your room soon enough tonight can I come and knock him out, Faramir asked suddenly.

Legolas burst out laughing, “Can we not slip a sleeping draught into his food?”

Faramir shrugged, “Or we could cart out the remaining crates of dwarven ale and have a party. In an hour’s time they’ll be too drunk and you and I can slip out, and spend all of tonight and the whole of tomorrow together. I’m sure we’ll be able to think of something to do.” He said slyly, grinning at the elf.

Their laughter echoed through the dales as they raced off towards the White City.

THE END

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