Faramir Fiction Archive

In His Gardens (NC-17)

Written by Nissi

14 November 2006 | 5431 words

Chapter 3: In His Garden

They had stopped for a blanket, as Faramir suggested, and settled into the tiny garden Faramir called “his.” It resided in a small cluster of gardens upon the sixth level of the White City, tucked along the edge of an alcove. It was partially hidden from the sight of their father’s chambers in the tower of Ecthelion, and from the exposed portion they were able to keep track of their father’s whereabouts therein by the presence of candlelight in the windows. There was none this night. They knew Denethor was sleeping.

Boromir held Faramir in his arms, his strength and confidence returned. He caressed his lover tenderly as Faramir melted into the power of his brother’s embrace. Faramir always felt profoundly safe when close to Boromir, and even while engaging in an act that would have them both in tremendous danger if discovered, he had the sense that he was wholly protected.

Their faces remained parted only far enough for them to exchange gazes almost unblinkingly, their eyes the same dark hue in the shadow of night. After some time Boromir closed the gap between them and brought his lips to Faramir’s, simply holding them still against the younger man’s, much the way Faramir kissed Boromir for the first time. Boromir’s hand strayed to Faramir’s buttocks, cupping one perfect globe and pulling Faramir closer.

Faramir’s thigh lifted and draped over him as he yielded to Boromir’s guidance, their hard cocks brushing together. Both moaned almost simultaneously into the placid kiss.

“Boromir,” Faramir finally gasped, planting several more tiny kisses on his brother’s lips.

“Yes, my love?” the older man responded.

“You know that I will support you through anything, unto the end of our days,” Faramir replied, wrapping his arms firmly around Boromir’s chest.

“I know that, little brother,” Boromir said tenderly, resting his brow against his lover’s. “Why do you say this now?”

Faramir shrugged slightly. “It came to mind. I feel so safe with you, so completely sheltered in your arms…so loved and supported. I wanted you to know I will afford you the same as long as it is within my power so to do.”

“My beautiful husband,” Boromir crooned. “Always I will look after you, and gladly I will accept your care in return. Whatever happens in these tumultuous times, we will have each other.”

“Always,” Faramir whispered, diving into a more passionate kiss.

“Mmm, Faramir,” Boromir whimpered when they emerged for breath. “I love you,” he whispered as the roaming of his hands became faster, more thorough, more insistent. He ground into the younger man and pressed two fingertips into the space between Faramir’s sac and his entrance. He stimulated Faramir’s prostate from without, causing Faramir to groan, writhe, and spill precum freely.

“Take me, Boromir. I am yours, yours to have always,” Faramir moaned.

Boromir nipped at Faramir’s chin. “I will have you,” he growled as he reared up, clawing for the bottle of oil they had brought from Faramir’s room. His hand clasped it and he made short work of uncorking it, gruffly ordering “On your belly, little one” to his love.

Faramir nodded, visibly shivering in response, and rolled onto his stomach. The paving stones were unforgiving as his erect cock jutted against them, but any such discomfort was worth bearing for the feeling of coupling with his husband. Dutifully Boromir prepared Faramir for their lovemaking, which he always did despite the fact that Faramir was well accustomed to the feeling of Boromir’s cock inside of him. Boromir recognized that often their sex came with long periods between encounters and he wanted to make sure that he readied Faramir’s long-neglected body for the experience.

As Boromir’s fingers worked to relax him enough for a painless penetration Faramir’s thoughts split time between the pleasure they brought him and memories of other sensual experiences with his husband. He turned his head and pressed his cheek against the ground and murmured, “Do you remember the time we made love in Osgiliath, in that quiet sheltered spot by the river? We were hidden on all sides by the ruins of walls. We knelt in the water, which was rather cold and dirty, and hurriedly maneuvered so that I could take you into me.” Faramir smiled as he spoke.

“I remember, yes,” Boromir said as he continued to work. “The environment was wholly unromantic, but you are such a beautiful, loving soul that anywhere you go becomes a romantic place. We made due, and the more involved we became with each other the more perfect it all seemed. That was a wonderful night…hidden away from our men…”

Boromir’s words trailed off as he completed Faramir’s preparation, lubricated his cock, and knelt between his brother’s thighs. He brought his organ to Faramir’s entrance, pressing forward while the younger man’s breaths came quicker in anticipation.

“And do you remember the night we snuck into the archery range under cover of dark, and found that small private cubby where they store the quivers?” Faramir asked.

Boromir grunted as he moved forward and began to breach his brother’s body. “Yes, I remember. But I would rather focus now on how good it will feel to be inside of you, my love…” He worked the head of his cock into Faramir’s tightness and kept going, slowly feeding his member into Faramir’s body.

Faramir took the hint and stopped talking, feeling a little rejected for it, but able to ignore those feelings while Boromir’s cock slid in further until he was fully sheathed. Faramir groaned at the sensation of stretch and fullness, a delightful ever-present reminder that his brother was joined with him in the most intimate way.

Boromir stretched out atop Faramir’s back. Boromir’s lips fell to his neck and kissed tenderly, suckling on the soft flesh while he withdrew his cock and plunged forward again, stroking the length of his shaft within Faramir.

The dual pressure of Boromir’s cock within him and Boromir’s weight atop him quickly made the position particularly intense for the younger man. He squirmed and groaned, his erection sandwiched between his body and the cold stone. While the fingers of one hand clung to the ground until his fingernails dug against the pavement, his other hand rose to beg for further contact with his brother.

Boromir brought his palm to rest atop the back of Faramir’s proffered hand, twining his fingers with Faramir’s and holding gently. He stilled within the younger man, as he recognized this gesture was often born of Faramir’s discomfort. Sometimes their coupling brought inevitable aches and pains regardless of how tender Boromir was or how well he prepared his husband. Faramir usually sought to hold Boromir’s hand while he adjusted or otherwise endured any discomfort.

“Does it hurt much, little one?” Boromir whispered in Faramir’s ear, following with a tiny kiss upon his cheek.

“Nay,” Faramir replied breathlessly. “Only so many sensations assailing me…you fill me so completely, my love. It is a delectable feeling, but on occasion there must be pain to achieve pleasure. Please don’t stop,” he panted. “It satisfies me to feel your enjoyment.”

“Such a generous lover,” Boromir cooed. “I love you beyond reckoning, Faramir,” he concluded as he resumed his slow but steady movements, working in and out of his little brother’s body.

“As I love you, Boromir,” Faramir sighed and pumped his hips slightly, progressively relaxing into the union. As Boromir felt the tension ease he increased the pace of his thrusts, struggling to refrain from going too fast or too hard until his brother was ready.

Boromir knew that coupled this way, with the simultaneous pressure stretching Faramir around his girth and the downward pressure of his weight pressing his hardness into his lover in unique places, Faramir’s initial discomfort was nearly inevitable. But Boromir loved to take his husband in such a manner, feeling the complete tautness of Faramir’s muscles around him as the younger man’s nearly-closed thighs made his passage a greater challenge.

Faramir never complained, and by the subtle motions of his hips Boromir could tell Faramir had passed into pleasure, enjoying the feelings and the knowledge that Boromir was achieving his own satisfaction. Soon Faramir was groaning and moaning repeatedly, shifting his hips as best he could to encourage his love to delve more deeply. Boromir moved faster, Faramir’s reactions always conspiring against his self-control.

The older man changed the angle of penetration subtly, angling downward towards Faramir’s prostate. He had achieved repeated stimulation of his lover’s small, sensitive tangle of nerves in such a way before. When Faramir struggled to strangle a cry of pleasure Boromir knew he had hit his mark. Devilishly he aimed again and again, his own excitement reaching fevered pitch while his brother weathered the sensual assault.

Faramir’s cock poured precum onto the stone beneath it. He covered his mouth in an effort to smother the involuntary noise that the pleasure elicited. His other hand squeezed his brother’s fingers tighter as he felt himself draw close to the edge, hovering on the brink of orgasm from the prostate stimulation alone, having been careful not to rub himself much against the rough stone.

“Ungh, Boromir,” he grunted. “Please,” Faramir said, though he spoke no further to explain his desire. Boromir knew. He angled once more for Faramir’s prostate and in one forceful, digging stroke, slid his cock against it and deep within the younger man. Faramir let loose one last great groan as he exploded into orgasm, a very productive ejaculation coating the ground beneath him.

The feeling of Faramir’s muscles repeatedly rippling around his cock with every wave of his brother’s pleasure was more than Boromir could bear. With a few short thrusts he too climaxed, depositing his seed fully within Faramir. The sounds and sensations of Boromir’s orgasm only served to heighten Faramir’s pleasure. There was nothing greater than the join in mutual gratification, knowing each had pleased the other.

When last Boromir’s orgasm subsided he slowly withdrew, ruing the loss of Faramir’s body as he rolled onto his back beside his husband. He reached for the blanket that had been dislodged in the lovemaking and spread it over them. Faramir lay still, recovering his breath, abhorring the feeling of emptiness that always followed Boromir’s withdrawal, but finding consolation in the heat of Boromir’s seed inside him.

Boromir’s chest heaved for breath as he floated on the post-orgasmic high, his entire body tingling and covered in the sort of fuzzy warmth he only felt from sexual satisfaction with his little brother. He watched Faramir’s face as it remained pressed to the stone, his eyes closed and lips slightly parted. Boromir thought he had never seen a sight so beautiful as his love in the peaceful aftermath of climax.

The older man reached out to stroke Faramir’s back. “Did I leave you in pain, Faramir?” he asked with concern.

Faramir replied, “No, love. Only tired.”

“Only tired?” Boromir parroted with a small grin. “Not tired and blissful?”

“Blissful goes without saying,” Faramir responded in a near whisper, wincing as his body protested the movement of rolling onto his back. Boromir’s hand swiftly found his chest and stroked slowly. Faramir opened his eyes and stared at the night sky, shifting his focus from star to star.

“You seem pensive,” Boromir observed. “Does something bother you?”

“Not much,” Faramir said plainly. “Only you hushed me in my recollections,” Faramir recalled.

Boromir had to restrain himself from laughing. His little brother was sometimes unnecessarily sensitive, the littlest things bothering him when he read too much into or incorrectly interpreted Boromir’s words or actions. The older man tolerated it well, realizing that Faramir had endured so much criticism in his lifetime that such insecurities were bound to occur.

“I am sorry, Faramir. I didn’t intend to offend you. You know how dearly I love your voice, and how much I enjoy hearing you speak while we make love. Sometimes…there are odd moods, and I suppose tonight brought one of them. I was so intently focused on breaching you…” Boromir responded.

As soon as Faramir’s bother arrived it was gone, and he turned his head to Boromir and smiled adoringly. “It matters not. I was being childish. I suppose that is one pitfall of brothers as husbands. There is always the potential for us to regress,” he grinned.

Boromir leaned in and kissed Faramir’s brow. “I hope that my carelessness did not lessen your enjoyment,” he said genuinely.

“Not at all, my darling brother. It was far from my mind while we coupled. There was nothing less than absolute enjoyment for me,” Faramir swiftly lifted his chin and kissed the tip of Boromir’s nose.

“Faramir,” Boromir closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

Faramir turned upon his side facing Boromir, propping his head on his hand and touching Boromir’s chest softly. There was an obvious shift in Boromir’s demeanor. “What is it, Boromir?”

Boromir shook his head slowly. “I am overcome of late…”

“Overcome?” Faramir questioned, tracing tiny circles upon his husband’s skin with the very tips of his fingers.

“I cannot fend off a sense of foreboding, something…something looms,” Boromir’s voice shook as he spoke.

Faramir frowned. Boromir rarely seemed so disturbed, but it was as though his behavior from the tomb had recurred. “What do you think will happen, Boromir?” He moved closer and draped his arm across his brother’s chest.

“I do not know, exactly. But I can’t stop feeling as though a chain of events will soon begin; a chain that can only lead to shackles that will claim me. Claim us,” Boromir replied quietly. As he squeezed his eyes shut further a single tear unleashed and slid down his cheek.

“My love,” Faramir kissed the tear, erasing its burden from Boromir’s skin with his full lips. “You are overtired. The mind conjures all manner of terror when it hasn’t the strength to remain reasonable.”

“It cannot be so easily dismissed, Faramir,” Boromir stated. “You of all people should know. Your dreams, your visions…”

“I fight them, Boromir, or they will consume me,” Faramir admitted. “I fight to change the course of things, to prevent what I have seen. And we can simply choose not to believe in portends. We can choose to see these things as merely tricks of exhausted and troubled minds.” To date Faramir had not revealed to Boromir the extent of his visions, as to acknowledge them would be to surrender to their power.

“I will fight to the death, if need be, for such a cause,” Boromir responded. Faramir’s chest tightened at the very mention of Boromir dying in battle. “Perhaps that is what haunts me…” Boromir mused.

“Speak no more of these things, Boromir,” Faramir nearly spat, feeling panic rise within him. He quelled it with a simple mantra, “We will endure, and we will survive.”

Boromir knew how greatly it bothered Faramir when he spoke of certain matters, such as death or his ascension to the position of Steward someday. Despite his suggestion of combating superstition Faramir remained remarkably superstitious, and his acts otherwise never fooled his older brother.

“Very well, Faramir. I will push these thoughts from my mind, and I will not give them further voice. But I do believe that now you are hushing me…” Boromir tried to lighten things.

Faramir chuckled softly. “You do not like it when the tables are turned, my love.”

“It is not the proper order of things for the younger brother to best the elder,” Boromir stated, putting on an air.

“And yet I manage to do it so well,” Faramir goaded, grinning like a little boy.

“Have a care what you start, little brother,” Boromir warned good-naturedly. “Or I will have to take you to the training ground and put your claims to the test. I would hate to crush your confidence.”

“Hah!” Faramir exclaimed indignantly. “I will always have the advantage of youth, old man.”

Boromir laughed heartily and embraced Faramir, pulling the younger man atop him and ruffling his hair. Faramir grinned and brought his lips to his husband’s, kissing him lovingly. Boromir’s arms tightened around the lean, lithe ranger as their tongues dueled passionately.

When their lips parted Faramir whispered, “Come to my quarters, my dearest, my glorious husband. Your presence will not be missed ‘til morning light. Rest with me, as wedded couples do.”

Boromir caressed Faramir’s cheek lightly. He could not resist such a temptation. “I will retire to your bed, love. I would not miss an opportunity to hold you in my arms.”

The two men rose and pulled on just enough clothing to make it through the streets decently, carrying the rest and the blanket in their arms. The stain of Faramir’s seed was already receding into the porous stone—the only evidence of their activities in the garden.

In Faramir’s chamber they held each other tightly until desire welled. They made love once more before morning, Boromir moving atop Faramir as their arms and legs tangled to crush every last space between them. They became one being, fully united, sealing the magic of the night and engraving every detail of the entire set of encounters in their memories. They would cherish even the melancholy, worried moments, for it was the fullness of their trust and intimacy that allowed them to be vulnerable together. Everything they experienced as husbands and brothers was nourishment that sustained them when they endured the torture of being apart.

There was little chance for sleep before dawn came, but neither felt worse for the wear. They gave each other everything they needed.

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