Faramir Fiction Archive

The Road Ahead (NC-17)

Written by Valkyrie

18 December 2007 | 23561 words

Title: Under the Light of the Stars
Series: THE ROAD AHEAD (Part 8/8)
Sequel to: THE RITUAL
Author: Valkyrie (email)
Pairings: Aragorn/Faramir, Aragorn/Arwen (implied), Faramir/Éowyn (implied)
Rating: NC-17
Archive: Yes, but let me know where
Warnings: m/m relationship
Summary: Aragorn receives an invitation he cannot refuse.
Authors’ note: This is totally AU. If you like to read things canon, this is not a story for you.
Feedback: Kind words will be welcome as well as constructive criticism.
Disclaimer: The characters are property of J.R.R. Tolkien. I have not and will not receive any money for this story. It is free for all to read.

Very especial thanks to my beta reader Chris. All remaining mistakes are mine.

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Part Eight: Under the Light of the Stars

‘Come to the Altars of Stone at midnight. Faramir.’

This was very odd, Aragorn thought. Faramir did not take dinner at the halls. Today was the first day they were going to have a peaceful evening after the last delegation left the city. And then he had received Faramir’s note. Aragorn’s first thought was that his steward wanted a quiet evening for the two alone, but at midnight?

Aragorn pondered about this while riding to the place. The Altars of Stone were outside the White City and not at walking distance. What had led Faramir to meet at such an odd hour so far away from the city?

After almost half a candle mark Aragorn could see the stones gleaming under Ithil’s pale light. They were a sight to behold. Massive and sparklingly white reaching towards the starry sky; a circle of five, surrounding two flat altars of stone, remnants of an old age, the meaning of it long lost.

Aragorn thought his heart had stopped and the reason was not the eerie beauty of the glade, but the sight waiting for him in the middle of the two altars.

Faramir.

Faramir, looking like a pagan god amidst the stones, his pale skin kissed by the nightlight and shining as though he was radiating with an inner light, his hair playing under the breeze.

Faramir, barefooted, wearing nothing but a long white loincloth and wristbands made of mithril matching a mithril belt.

The shock was great, the sight too familiar, and the memories came rushing through his mind like water through a broken dam.

Faramir waited. His face betraying nothing but calm.

“What is the meaning of this?” asked Aragorn in a hushed voice, dismounting from his horse and feeling weakness seeping into his legs. He walked toward Faramir as one who is in front of an apparition and is morbidly afraid it would disappear at any moment but at the same time willing for it to do so.

“I need to prove myself worthy and without fear. You need to get rid of the guilt that burdens your heart. I trust you, my love. I know you will never hurt me. You think I am not ready and delay the moment for which I have been ready for a long time.

“You have rejected each of my attempts in fear that you might hurt me once again. But you hurt me nonetheless. Do you not see I have waited for you to give me back your trust? Trust me that I do not fear you or hold you responsible for anything. I love you with all that I am and what better way to prove it than putting myself in your hands like on that first time. Now, you have to make your choice,” Faramir finished and waited for Aragorn to make up his mind. He had gathered all his courage for this moment. Everything was at stake, for if Aragorn turned around now, it would mean he did not trust in Faramir’s strength, and Faramir would not stand it. He would break apart in so many pieces that there would not be a way to put him back together again, his strength wasted away in this single moment.

“But why in this way? Why in that…” Aragorn could not finish, he could only stare, mesmerised, at the sight in front of him, both frightening and oh so tempting, the same outfit of that dreadful day; the same beguiling body enticingly exposed. He took one step closer, the words dying on his lips.

“I want to remake a memory. What better way to do so than recreating it to make something beautiful out of it? I know that we could make this at another place and under other circumstances, but I feel that that memory will be between us always.”

“But, love, this is so close, so like…this could backfire on us. We could make it worse,” Aragorn said with an unsteady voice.

Faramir looked at Aragorn with such a trusting face so different from that day when the young man entered that chamber with unfaltering steps and a quivering heart. Step by excruciatingly slow step Aragorn approached Faramir until he was almost nose-to-nose.

“Must I remind you that in spite of everything that has happened I am a warrior? I have endured far worse physical damage than on that day. I know this is what weighs on your mind, that you hurt me and, hence, betrayed me. But you can be sure that you did nothing wrong. It was I. My fears and feelings of unworthiness put me in the state I was in. And you, my love, freed me of all that. It took a while, but I finally understand. I have nothing to prove to anyone but myself. So, here I am. I trust you and I trust our love,” said Faramir, his voice deep and alluring. “Will you not give the same trust in return?”

Faramir’s eyes seemed dark pools, full of promise and desire and Aragorn fell into their abyss. He reached out and pulled the young man into a smoldering kiss.

Faramir returned the kiss with unsuppressed passion, clinging to Aragorn with both his hands, feeling the heat emanating from Aragorn’s body, whimpering in ecstasy of what would come. Kissing had never felt this good. Aragorn was not holding back. Aragorn was his, he would not be denied and his spirit soared. He stepped back dragging Aragorn with him, his legs touching one of the altars.

“Love me, here, under Ithil and the stars. Love me without holding back, for I am not weak. I am strong for you and because of you. Together we will overcome everything.” Faramir was beyond himself. Never had he felt this fire spreading over his body so fast that he was light-headed. He sat on the stone and placed himself in the centre of it, signalling for Aragorn to climb up as well.

Aragorn was as one who had been bewitched. “You must tell me if—”

“No words. Let’s not use our lips but to give each other pleasure. Let this be a union of our souls as it should have been.”

Aragorn shed his clothes under Faramir’s avid gaze. His beloved looked as some mystical creature from the books, wild and exotic. Lying there, reclining on his elbows, waiting for him, the pale light seemed to kiss his skin, and the loincloth between slightly spread legs shamelessly insinuated Faramir’s need. He climbed the stone as his beloved lay all the way down and stretched his arms above his head. A flashback of Faramir in a similar position filtered into his mind, but he ruthlessly cast it aside. He would not let Faramir down. His gaze caught sight of a small vial placed near Faramir’s hands. This time there would be no pain.

Aragorn did not remove Faramir’s loincloth right away. He covered the young man with his nude body, lying with his elbows on each side of Faramir’s arms, feeling his thundering heart against his own. He caught a strand of Faramir’s hair between his fingers, admiring how the lighter tones stood out against Ithil’s light as silvery threads. He, then, locked his gaze with Faramir’s.

Faramir answered back with eyes full of love and trust and …desire, and it seemed to Aragorn that he could see the light of the stars above reflected in them. He kissed Faramir once more, feeling the young man’s breathing speeding up a notch. He broke the kiss and opened his mouth to voice his concern, but then Faramir arched his body against him, forcing Aragorn to feel the hardness of his flesh. Whatever it was that the king was going to say died on his lips at the feel of that lush body against his own. Faramir was anything but scared. Faramir was his.

Aragorn’s need increased tenfold.

He placed kisses on Faramir’s now exposed neck and trailed down to Faramir’s navel, caressing his belly and feeling how the muscles trembled there. He found the mithril belt and removed it along with the loincloth, leaving Faramir exposed to be revered. He licked teasingly the hard flesh and then withdrew his attention, chuckling at Faramir’s frustrated whimper. He caressed Faramir’s inner thighs instead. This time he would explore Faramir’s body to his leisure and would ensure that the young man received all the pleasure he deserved.

Faramir, or better, Faramir’s body, had other ideas though. After what seemed to him interminable moments, he decided to take matters into his own hands and raising himself on his elbows, glared at Aragorn. “I will not last…longer…you better hurry up…with whatev—”

Aragorn’s kiss did not let him finish. “Only for pleasure, remember?” Aragorn said against his lips, throwing Faramir’s own words back at him.

Faramir whimpered in earnest.

Aragorn decided to comply. He reached out for the vial, placing most of his body on top of Faramir’s to do so and brushing his own hardness against Faramir’s belly, which elicited a moan of satisfaction. He slid his left arm under Faramir’s back, manoeuvred them both on their sides and helped the young man to raise his leg a little so it was resting against his own. He wanted Faramir to feel safe and comforted. He was afraid of Faramir’s reaction at his first touch to that part of his body.

He then coated his fingers liberally, and kept his gaze on Faramir’s all the time, looking for signs of distress or discomfort. But Faramir just locked one of his arms around Aragorn’s neck and asked for a kiss, which Aragorn gladly gave.

Aragorn recognised the gesture for what it was. Faramir was sure in his mind he would not be hurt, but Faramir’s body had a memory of its own, and this was what Aragorn was afraid of.

The first contact was cautious and delicate in its advance. Faramir’s body tensed, but ignoring it the young man clung to Aragorn in earnest.

Faramir was trying with all his might not to give in to his body’s instincts, which were to avoid being touched again in such a manner. Faramir knew he would confront this particular obstacle the first time after his ordeal. He only had to prove to his body this one time what he himself had no doubts about. Aragorn would never hurt him. Little by little his body started to relax under Aragorn’s gentle ministrations.

When Aragorn felt Faramir’s body tense in his arms, his first reaction was to give the young man words of comfort, tell him to relax, that everything would be fine. But he refrained for Faramir’s sake. He knew Faramir did not want to be comforted but to face his demons on his own. So when Faramir clung to him and hid his face against his neck, Aragorn all but bit his tongue to keep quiet; he engaged Faramir in a passionate kiss and proceeded to prepare the young man for what will come; gently massaging and using his fingers with utmost care.

It was a relief when he sensed that Faramir started to relax and so, he became bold and gave Faramir his first pleasurable surprise. The young man gasped and tensed against his body but this time for a different reason. Faramir raised his head from the crook of Aragorn’s neck and looking into Aragorn’s eyes told him to ‘do that again’ in a breathy voice. Aragorn complied, kissing Faramir passionately while taking lengthy time to prepare him.

Once he deemed Faramir was ready, he made him rest on his back again; placing a gentle kiss on the young man’s parted lips. Aragorn entered him slowly, taking all the time for Faramir to adjust. Aragorn took deep breaths and put all his control and determination not to spill himself right then, the pleasure was too great, and the feeling of Faramir willingly welcoming him, maddeningly intoxicating.

He felt Faramir trying to arch his body and understood the meaning of the message. The young man was ready for more. Aragorn paused for a moment and took Faramir’s hands to position them over the young man’s head, keeping them there with his own. In return the young man locked his legs around Aragorn’s hips.

Each of Aragorn’s trusts brought Faramir pleasure he thought he would never taste. He felt his senses overloading. The hard stone against his back, his hardness trapped between their bodies, the feel of Aragorn’s flesh brushing that something deep inside him that made him feel a blazing fire all over his skin, Aragorn’s hands clutching his and their mingled sounds of passion travelling through the night. Their eyes locked; they needed no words. The world seemed to fade and there was only them.

Passion started to near the peak and they both knew they were at the brink of release and something else. Aragorn let go of Faramir’s hands in order to embrace the young man in his arms and Faramir returned the gesture with a tight hold of his own. They came to release at the same time, their bodies locked in an unyielding embrace, their minds melding together in a blazing light.

Aragorn felt Faramir trembling in his arms, the young man’s body going limp under his, and he could not help the feeling of panic invading him, for he knew the bond had been re-established, and could not help remember Faramir had nearly died the last time that had happened.

This time, though, Faramir reached out to reassure him that history was not going to repeat itself.

‘I love you; it is hard to breathe when I think when I think how much I do.’

He heard it clearly in his mind and felt it to the core of his heart. Faramir was reaching out for him, and he could feel the young man’s feelings starting to wash over his soul like a tidal wave.

‘I love you, my brave Faramir,’ Aragorn answered.

He took Faramir’s head between his hands and gave the young man a kiss full of tenderness. He brushed back sweaty strands of hair and contemplated Faramir’s flushed face.

Faramir looked at him with eyes full of tears, but Aragorn knew this were tears of happiness. He could feel it, and tears of his own found their way through as well.

He thought Faramir could not appear more beautiful than now, his body vibrating with spent desire, warm and pliant in his arms, his soul linked to Aragorn’s own and his love pouring over Aragorn’s heart. Faramir’s eyes, glittering with tears, seemed to reflect Elbereth’s domain.

“From now on I would not need to turn my gaze to the night sky for you seem to have the stars in your eyes, my love” said Aragorn breaking the spell.

“Such things you say, king.”

“So now, I am merely a king and not your king anymore? How disrespectful. I shall punish you.”

Faramir chuckled. “I shall call you that when you are acting daft.”

“Daft, eh? And what shall you call me when I am not?”

“King of my heart, my love, my soul.”

“That is more likely. But still I will have to punish you.”

“And what punishment would ‘my’ king bestow upon me?”

“Back to ‘my’ but too late. I decree you shall be ravished all night long without a rest.”

“And as the steward of the realm, I approve this decree, but first the king must let his subject recover some of his strength in order to receive this well earned punishment.” At this point Faramir’s eyes were heavy with sleep though he was making a great effort to stay awake. Faramir was healed in all regards, but he had spent a great deal of energy doing so and not only physical.

“Get some sleep, my love; we have all the time in the world.” Aragorn caressed the silky hair, and the young steward was losing his battle against sleep, falling under the gentle ministrations.

“There are blankets…in … horse…” whispered Faramir, his voice trailing away.

“Yes, my love,” answered Aragorn, not moving anywhere. He kept watching Faramir, how the young man’s face slowly relaxed in sated sleep, and long lashes rested on flushed cheeks. Aragorn refrained from kissing the tempting lips, red from the ministrations bestowed upon them. He got up and looked for the blankets instead; else he would risk taking Faramir in his sleep.

It was going to be a long night. His already waking arousal told him so. He climbed on the altar again and wrapped them both in the blankets. Faramir was so out of it that he did not even stir when Aragorn handled him this way and that to make them both more comfortable. He stared at the stars thinking about all that had happened and how good it felt to finally grasp happiness in his hands. Two falling stars crossed the firmament, and it seemed as though the sky were blinking at him, reassuring him that this time his happiness would last for the rest of their days.

The End.

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