Faramir Fiction Archive

And All Because... (NC-17)

Written by Foofy

02 February 2005 | 55500 words | Work in Progress

Title: And All Because…
Author: Foofy (Contact)
Pairing: Haldir/Faramir; Aragorn/Boromir
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Drug use. Hints at BDSM and possible Non-Consensual sexual situations. Punishment, imprisonment. Non Fluffy
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. Fic is written for entertainment purposes only.
Summary: Arwen decides to tempt Aragorn with a little of what he desires. Set just after the Council of the Fellowship. Authors Note: Arwen is not portrayed as the usual fashion, being somewhat more amoral and downright devious.

Italics indicate elvish

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Part 1

It had taken Aragorn a while to find where Arwen had vanished to; after the debates and stresses of the council that day, the last thing he needed was an amazing vanishing elf princess on his hands, but that was the situation he normally faced most days. Arwen was unusual, radiating innocence and goodwill to all she met. After all these years, Aragorn knew she was not quite as innocent as she made out, despite her demands, or lack of, in the bedroom. There was a definite flash in those eyes, the indication that not everything was all light and peaceful, whenever her will was denied. Not that this happened much, he mused as he walked along the corridors towards the next favourite haunt to check on his hit list. Arwen had the knack of getting what she wanted without the other person even noticing.

He was more successful on the third choice to check; his own chambers. Why this should be a good place for the elf to frequent he had no idea; she never stayed more than half an hour with him in the room, and all of that talking or the occasional silence. His frustrations seemed to entertain her, although he would never admit that out loud.

Her back was to him as she looked out the chamber window at the forests and mountains surrounding them. Aragorn, who was standing in the open doorway, raised a hand to knock on the door, then had a stab of annoyance – there was no way he was knocking to be admitted to his own bloody room – and stalked in instead. There was no question of the elf not knowing of his presence anyway.

He shut the door smartly behind him, and stood looking at her, still slightly annoyed, arms folded firmly across his chest. There was a pause that lasted for many minutes.

“Aragorn,” she said finally as though he had just walked through the door. “It is good to see you,”

“You have not seen me yet,” replied Aragorn, somewhat shortly towards her back. Arwen decided to ignore this and ran her hand along the window sill as though testing its solidity.

“I have a present for you, Aragorn,” she continued. The ranger’s eyes narrowed slightly. What deemed a present in Arwen’s eyes was not necessarily a good thing.

“Thank you,” he said without much enthusiasm. To this, Arwen finally glanced in his direction.

“I will not take offence at that tone,” she smiled at him, although her eyes were not quite so warm. “For it has been a long day for you. I accept that. I also accept that you have many stresses and frustrations, do you not?”

Aragorn gave a slight nod to indicate the presence of such stresses and frustrations, his gaze still firmly locked on her warily. Arwen ignored the wary expression easily, and smiled again at him, crossing the room to stand in front of him.

“My love you look so cross! I thought that you were eager for some intimacy?”

Aragorn studied her again. The cheeks were slightly flushed, her eyes now eager and dancing. It was indeed possible that the council and the very presence of the shadow itself had brought some urgency to the elf’s play – Arwen had delighted in stimulating then frustrating the ranger’s desires, claiming that patience was the most important virtue. After so many years, Aragorn’s opinion on patience was getting to an all time low. It had taken him all the willpower he possessed not to find relief elsewhere, especially during some of Arwen’s favourite teasings.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked finally, still unwilling to become another pawn in her amusements. Arwen laughed, a light, tinkling laugh, and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

“Ah, my ranger,” she ran a hand gently over his chest. “It is something I know you will enjoy, even if.. well, we shall see on your reactions, shall we not?”

Arwen gracefully exited the room, carefully leaving the doorway open after her. After a brief hesitation, Aragorn followed her, following her towards her own luxuriously furnished quarters. Arwen delighted in silks and velvets, such materials being found throughout her chambers. Although the materials were not the object that immediately caught Aragorn’s eye as he entered the chambers and the door was shut. His eyes were immediately drawn towards the bed, his mouth already slightly open in shock and bewilderment.

Arwen moved to stand beside him, looking proudly towards her conquest.

“Beautiful, is he not?” she breathed. Aragorn looked at her, then hesitantly back at the sleeping figure on the bed.

“Why… what has occurred here?” the ranger was having difficulty getting the words out, his frown returning in full glory. Arwen laughed again in genuine amusement.

“I am flattered by your jealousy! But you have no cause to fear.” Arwen looked lovingly at the bed. “He has not touched me, nor I him.”

“Then why is he here?” Aragorn snapped a little harsher than he had wished. Arwen looked surprised.

“Why, he is for you, my love.”

“What?” Disbelieving, Aragorn took another look towards the elder son of Denethor, who was still curled innocently on one of Arwen’s velvet throws, his face peaceful in sleep. “I don’t understand,”

Arwen sighed to indicate Aragorn’s flaws in his intelligence. “I have brought him here for you, my love. To ease your frustrations.” The elf maiden walked gracefully to the side of the bed and ran a hand over the Gondorian’s hip and side, finally resting it on his shoulder. Boromir stirred in his sleep, but did not wake. Aragorn found himself staring in some fascination at them, then shook it off. This was not the time to speculate.

“I cannot do as you request of me,” he said stubbornly. Arwen cocked her head to one side, studying him.

“And what do I request of you?” she asked softly. Aragorn swallowed through a throat that felt extremely tight as Arwen ran her hand through Boromir’s hair gently, playing with the blonde strands. The man must sleep deeply to still be slumbering through such caresses, thought Aragorn grimly.

“Do you not wish for me to…,” Aragorn’s vocabulary failed him once more. Arwen watched him patiently.

“Fuck him?” she said sweetly. Aragorn’s head snapped up to stare at her in shock. Arwen rolled her eyes.

“I have lived for such a long time,” she said patiently. “Did you not think I would come across the word at some point?” She continued her ministrations with Boromir’s hair, gently moving her hand down slightly to stroke against his ear. Boromir made a slight sleepy moan in his sleep and moved positions slightly. Arwen did not look at him, keeping her steady gaze on Aragorn.

“My love,” she said finally. “He is yours for tonight. Do with him as you will, but do not waste the opportunity simply through embarrassment. I know you have desired such an opportunity for some time, but I did not think the elves would be suitable for your needs. Did you not think I would see your expression when you looked upon him at the library?” Arwen laughed, and shook her head lightly. “How could we pass up the opportunity whilst he is here?”

Aragorn had still not moved from his position near the door. His eyes fell to the sleeping figure, still fully clothed, Boromir’s sword resting against the nearby chair. The elf maiden smiled in satisfaction at the expression.

“Would you not like to view him closer?” she murmured. Aragorn took a few hesitant steps towards the bed, his eyes on the Gondorian. Arwen’s smile lost some of the cosy warmth as she registered the frown returning
as Aragorn looked at the form. He moved his gaze back to her.

“How did you get him here?”

Arwen shrugged, a gesture she so rarely did, to indicate the pointlessness of the question. “He is here. Do not trouble yourself with such questions,” she replied casually.

“But he came of his own free will?” pressed Aragorn. Arwen rested her dark eyes upon his suspicious grey blue gaze.

“He did.” Arwen ran her hand over Boromir’s side again as though possessively. “He needed a small amount of persuasion, but in the end he realised his desires matched that of your own.”

“Exactly what form did these persuasions take?” he persisted. Arwen gave a snort of annoyance.

“All these questions! Can you not simply take a present when it is offered to you?” the elf’s own patience was beginning to wear thin. “All that matters is that he is here and he agrees!”

“Does he?” murmured Aragorn, laying his own hand on Boromir’s and feeling the man’s warmth. Slightly too warm. “Boromir!” He moved his hand to the Gondorian’s shoulder and shook him slightly. Then harder. Boromir eventually groaned and lifted his head slightly from his arm which he had been using as a pillow, blinking uncertainly in the light. Aragorn stared at Arwen.

“What have you given him?” he demanded. Arwen met his furious look with a cool expression.

“Nothing that will harm him,” she replied. “I assure you of that,”

She patted Boromir’s arm as the groggy warrior sat up, and passed him a glass of water that was ready on the nearby side table, her eyes returning to the furious ranger.

“I gave him some Gerlanan leaves, to aid rest,” she replied, suppressing the smile that came to her lips at Aragorn’s shocked expression. Gerlanan was a powerful sedative, affecting both the body and mind.

“Then how do you know,” asked Aragorn in a slightly ragged voice. “That he came of his own free will?”

Arwen shrugged again. “It is of no consequence. He is here, and he wishes it, do you not Boromir?”

Boromir, still dazed, nodded uncomprehendingly. Aragorn could see the confusion in the younger man’s eyes as he gazed around the room, obviously trying to obtain his bearings. Arwen smiled at the concerned expression; the situation would go as planned, as she knew it would. Boromir had been a good choice, the arrogance of the lord of Gondor making him easy prey for her suggestions and her persuasions. She had been slightly concerned at the reported disputes at the council, but obviously this had not affected Aragorn’s opinion of the man.

“Will you not sit with him?” murmured Arwen. Aragorn rounded on her, furiously.

“You threaten his life with Gerlanan! It is too powerful a substance to be given freely, as you well know!” Aragorn snapped. Boromir flinched automatically at the raised voices in the room, his hand moving to his belt as though to grasp the hilt of the sword that was no longer there. Aragorn registered the gondorian’s distress and lowered his voice.

“If you’re that concerned about the Gerlanan,” replied Arwen, completely unruffled about the outburst. “Then I suppose mentioning the bantreal solution would be an awkward thing.”

“Bantreal?” Aragorn repeated slowly, disbelieving. “When did you give him bantreal?”

Arwen’s eyes fell upon the empty glass that Boromir had just drunk, then back at Aragorn, a smile playing on her lips. Aragorn slowly exhaled, containing his temper. There was no point in even trying to rid Boromir’s system of the fast acting drug, and the Gondorian was in no position to have fingers forced down his throat anyway.

“Just in case,” Arwen smiled innocently. Aragorn scowled at her. Boromir, who seemed to be more aware of his surroundings and was becoming well aware of the fight in the room, glanced between them uncertainly.

“What’s going on?” he asked finally in the dead silence of the room. Arwen turned her charm onto him, conscious of Aragorn’s glare on her, and gently ran a finger down the gondorian’s cheek.

“Why, only what you promised to me,” she said, leaning towards him and gently kissing him on the lips for a few seconds. Boromir continued to look uncertain, although Arwen could already see the drug take effect in his eyes, the concern drifting into desire after each minute. Boromir leaned back into the kiss hungrily, his momentary dizziness forgotten. Arwen broke the kiss at the feel of his hand on her side, and moved slightly away from the bed. Boromir moved to get off the bed, but was stopped by a careful hand on the shoulder by Aragorn. Boromir narrowed his eyes at this new interruption.

“Boromir, calm down.” Aragorn put his best no nonsense voice on, which seemed to do nothing to calm said Gondorian who continued to stare at him. To Arwen he snapped. “How much did you give him?”

“Oh, enough to last at least a few hours,” Arwen smiled at Boromir as though he was five and performing some new trick. “Let him go, Aragorn. Or relieve some of your tensions. Either way, it should be interesting, should it not?”

“I cannot believe you have done this!”

“In which case you lack imagination.” Arwen’s voice was clipped. “Boromir! You look hot. Perhaps shedding some of those clothes would help?”

Boromir glanced towards Arwen, then back at Aragorn who was still holding onto his shoulder. Aragorn found his throat had become remarkably dry yet again as he accidentally met the steady gaze. Boromir grinned at him, his eyes running down the ranger’s body then back to meet Aragorn’s eyes. Arwen smirked to herself and settled on a nearby chair. The amount that she had given the male was enough to get around any such difficulties about natural sexual orientations, and Boromir seemed quicker than most to jump to the intended conclusion. Boromir rested his own hand over Aragorn’s unresisting one, watching him.

Arwen smiled again as she watched Boromir slowly move Aragorn’s hand away from him, still gently holding it, before standing from the bed. Aragorn seemed incapable of either acting or speaking as Boromir removed what clothing he had on his upper body and moved to remove his breeches with less strip tease than Arwen would have liked.

“Boromir,” she decided to get involved again, moving from her comfortable chair to wander beside the Gondorian, having to gently push him away with a hand on his chest. She could feel the heat being generated from him, his heart beat pulsing against the palm of her hand, a slight sheen of sweat already forming over his body. “Relax. Slow down.”

Her hand drifted lower; she could feel him against the palm of her hand, rock hard. Boromir bit his lip to avoid moaning at the light touch against him. Arwen, still conscious of Aragorn watching them, pressed herself against the heat of the man and lightly kissed him again, shoving him away as Boromir immediately tried to continue. The Gondorian looked at her, slightly bewildered and slightly angry.

Aragorn stepped forward again, breaking the spell that held him to one position, stepping between the drugged man and Arwen in case Boromir’s willpower failed him entirely. He smiled at Boromir, who looked at him suspiciously then smiled himself.

“Can I dare to hope,” drawled Boromir. “That all this pussyfooting around has finished?” He glanced towards Arwen. “I assume by your actions that you are just here to watch?”

“That is correct,”

“And if I would object to your presence?” A faint amused smile still played on Boromir’s lips.

“Then you would be a fool,” replied Arwen delicately. Boromir studied her briefly, then glanced towards Aragorn as though expecting an acknowledgement. He shrugged.

“It makes no difference to me.” Boromir commented finally, laying his hand on Aragorn’s still fully clothed chest and turning his full attention onto the ranger, adding almost chattily to him. “The issue of your partner’s state of mind will not be discussed here, for there are more burning issues in hand.”

Aragorn could almost see Arwen’s eyes narrow in his mind, and sighed inwardly. No doubt Boromir would regret his statement later on in the evening. Arwen did not forget. Neither did she forgive. The Gondorian seemed unconcerned by any elvish revenge, playing with the fastenings of the ranger’s tunic lightly before grabbing hold of a handful of leather and pulling Aragorn into a kiss. Aragorn, who had been expecting this play, failed to contain his own enthusiasm and returnedit hungrily.

Encouraged, the tunic was soon ripped from his body by Boromir’s questing hands, given a free reign now he was sure he was not likely to get a fist in the stomach for his advances. A flicker of thought flashed through Aragorn’s mind that the drug must not have been as strong as he had first thought; Boromir would not have had the ability to reason or control himself if the full dose had been administered. This flicker was soon extinguished as bare chest met bare chest, both men eager to meet as much bare skin as possible.

It was Aragorn who finally broke the embrace, pulling back slightly, breathing hard, his own eyes almost as glazed as Boromir’s. The Gondorian watched him hungrily, just stopping himself from pouncing again, his breath hard and fast.

“Something the matter?” Boromir queried lightly, his eyes trailing down Aragorn’s body and resting on the other man’s crotch. Aragorn glared towards Arwen, who had reinstated herself on her chair and was watching expressionlessly.

“Aragorn.” The elf maiden said softly. “There is a bed. Use it.”

Aragorn ignored her. Boromir didn’t. Pausing only to unlace his own breeches and remove them – slowly – he sat back on the bed and looked up at Aragorn, a lock of dirty blonde hair falling onto his forehead as he did so. Aragorn ran his tongue over suddenly dry lips again as he failed to ignore exactly what was offered in front of him.

“She has a point,” Boromir murmured. Aragorn thought Arwen might not like being referred to as “she” as well, but no doubt Boromir lived on the more dangerous paths of life. He hesitated despite his immediate desire to obey the suggestion. This only served to increase the Gondorian’s frustration, who immediately moved to kneel on the bed and reach for the lacing on Aragorn’s breeches himself. Aragorn batted away his hands, smiling at the sulky expression that this immediately produced.

“Patience,” Aragorn growled softly at him. Boromir shrugged to show his indifference to the whole subject of patience, but waited until Aragorn had finally removed his own breeches himself.

“What are you waiting for?” came Arwen’s amused voice from the chair. “A round of applause?”

Aragorn shot her another look. “It is remarkably difficult with spectators,” he replied coldly. Arwen met his eyes.

“Deal with it,” she said simply. Boromir watched this exchange with growing impatience, and finally seized the initiative by leaning over and pulling Aragorn onto the bed. The ranger yelped; there was a brief tangle of limbs and bodies as the men fought for positions. Finally Boromir lay looking up at Aragorn who was straddling his waist, the Gondorian’s wrists firmly captured by the ranger.

“I make the rules,” snapped Aragorn. There was a brief flash of anger in Boromir’s eyes.

“Really?”

Aragorn increased the tightness of his grip on Boromir’s wrists, until he heard a noise of discomfort from the man underneath him. Eager he may be, but he was still taking no lip from a man half his age. Aragorn continued to give Boromir a steady look.

“Really,” he confirmed. Boromir judged the situation swiftly, and gave a casual grin back.

“If that is your desire,” he replied almost meekly. Aragorn studied him briefly before letting his grip loosen slightly. Boromir waited for a few seconds for Aragorn to relax, then put all the strength he had into dislodging the ranger from him. Aragorn, however, had been waiting for this. Boromir found himself flung back on his back, Aragorn’s face inches away from his own, the ranger’s body directly over Boromir’s extremely aching need and pressing against it hard. Boromir swallowed, his eyes wider than before as he gazed at Aragorn in front of him.

“Not.“said Aragorn. “Wise.”

“Well, if you will-” Boromir’s voice was cut off as Aragorn pressed harder against him. He took the hint and was silent, his green-grey eyes watching Aragorn warily. Aragorn continued until he heard a whimper, then shifted slightly.

“And you complain I treat him badly,” remarked Arwen. Aragorn shot her a look.

“I am not treating him badly.” he snapped. “Merely training.”

He let go of the Gondorian’s wrists entirely, and sat back up, glaring towards the she-elf. Arwen seemed not to care, her eyes on Boromir who was desperately trying to behave himself.

“Well, either train him or fuck him.” She commented. Boromir’s eyes glanced towards her in slight shock, then back at Aragorn. Arwen stood from her chair, and wandered towards them, a graceful smile on her features. Aragorn watched her cautiously.

“You seem to be at a loss. Allow me.” She said finally, reaching the bed. “Boromir! Come here.”

Boromir met Aragorn’s gaze in a question. The ranger paused for a few moments, before shifting slightly to be able to allow the Gondorian to get up. After a long hesitation, Boromir did so, sliding to the ground and standing beside her. Arwen’s gaze traced down his body in satisfaction.

“Good boy. Now kneel,”

Boromir scowled, and glanced towards Aragorn, finding encouragement in the frown he saw there. He turned back to Arwen.

“No.”

Her eyes narrowed at the refusal. “That was not a request.” She said steadily. Boromir folded his arms, giving the elf a hard stare.

“I don’t care,”

Arwen smiled sweetly and coldly, her eyes flickering towards Aragorn. “He needs work.”

“I am still here you know,” Boromir was getting edgy about being used as a go between. Arwen brought her gaze back to study him thoughtfully, in a manner that Boromir didn’t like at all. Aragorn, meanwhile, had got off the bed as well and was standing behind him. Boromir managed to stop himself jumping at the feel of the ranger’s hand resting on his shoulder. Arwen smiled even more sweetly at the flicker of nervousness across Boromir’s features at his own inability to judge exactly what Aragorn was doing.

He relaxed somewhat as Aragorn’s hand started caressing his shoulder lightly, the ranger’s voice low but definitely with an edge to it as he addressed the she-elf.

“If what you say is true, he is mine to order around.”

Boromir bit back any retort about this, feeling far too exposed to argue his own ability to order himself about. He could feel Aragorn’s body pressed up against him, the hard muscles against his skin, and shivered in anticipation. At this point Aragorn could claim whatever he wanted, he decided in a cloud of lust. Arwen was giving Aragorn a steady look.

“I don’t see him obeying your orders either, my love.”

“Possibly because I have not yet given him any to obey.” Aragorn’s hand had wandered slightly lower, between the Gondorian’s shoulder blades, the younger man pressing against him like a kitten eager for stroking. “But if you want me to demonstrate..,”

Arwen folded her arms.

“Boromir.” The ranger’s voice was low and husky. “On your knees.”

A flicker of disobedience crossed Boromir’s mind for an instant between caresses, only for that to dissolve at the next touch. Boromir slowly got to his knees, deciding on a particularly meek expression that he normally only saved for his father. He kept his eyes towards the floor, not wishing to see whatever cold glare was being aimed at him. Aragorn’s hand transferred itself to the Gondorian’s head, playing with his hair whilst its owner continued to watch Arwen steadily. Arwen shrugged lightly.

“And now what will you do with him?” the she-elf enquired. “Treat him as a pet? Or actually use him?”

“That is my concern.”

“Is it now?” Arwen studied the man at her feet, then back at Aragorn dismissively. “If it was down to you he would not be here at all. I doubt whether you would actually dare use him.”

Aragorn’s hand stilled in Boromir’s hair. Boromir kept his eyes to the floor in a moment of self preservation, trying to keep himself out of the argument as much as possible. Arwen suddenly changed persuasion tactics.

“Come now,” she purred. “He is waiting at your feet, naked and eager. See how he trembles for your touch?” She stepped slightly forward, her hand meeting Aragorn’s to run a soft finger over his tense hand encouragingly. “You want him. I can see you do. Why deny yourself?”

Aragorn said nothing, watching Arwen carefully. However, the elf noted the change in breathing, the quickening of intake, a particular look flickered through his eyes, and nodded approvingly. Boromir, who had no one but Arwen to glance at, did not like the expression he found there.

“Take him, my love,” Arwen’s voice was but a light murmur. “He is yours, and he waits for you.”

Boromir felt the ranger’s hand slip slowly downwards, to rest lightly on his neck. He swallowed, returning his gaze to the floor, any argument or cockiness forgotten.

“And what would you do?” Aragorn’s voice almost broke the trance that the elf had been weaving. Her eyes narrowed at the interruption.

“I doubt, my love, whether you would care what I was doing.” She moved forward, running her hand up his arm to rest on his shoulder, walking round behind him. “Is that not a glorious sight?” her voice was a murmur in his ear as she studied Boromir on the floor. “Pity the poor child, I implore you.”

Boromir was becoming distinctly uncomfortable. Not being able to see either of them was causing his imagination to work overtime, which came up with all manner of possibilities. He could hear Aragorn’s breathing, slightly heavier than usual, could feel his hand tighten slightly on his neck, the other somewhere unknown. Her presence was even more unknown, although he could almost feel the weight of her eyes on him.

“Boromir,” he heard Aragorn breath his name. “Stand up.”

Kneel down, stand up, thought Boromir moodily. What was this, some sort of exercise camp? However, he stood without arguing, although a slight frown crossed his features. He heard Aragorn’s breathing slightly hitch, as the ranger’s hand left the stronghold of Boromir’s neck to trace down his back. This light tickling was more than torture, the feel of it merely increasing his frustrations. He kept himself under tight control, although he could feel his self control slipping away from his grasp with every minute that passed. He was no elf, who had all the time they needed. His life was fast. This hesitation merely wasted more precious time.

Apparently Arwen could see a little of his expression, for he could hear her murmur into Aragorn’s ear, no doubt deliberately loud enough for him to do just that.

“He grows impatient, my love.” It was a sweet but somehow cold voice. “I know what you desire. Have you not thought of it for years, despairing of the expertise but gentleness of the elves? Here is one you can be as rough as you like, and he will still beg for more.”

Boromir could feel Aragorn’s hand falter on his back, his own breathing beginning to get slightly ragged. He wasn’t too confident of this whole “rough as you like” concept. He could take it, certainly, but his own experience was far too limited for him to feel anything but wariness to the idea. However, this was put from his mind as Aragorn stepped closer to him, pressing his body against him, his hands drifting around Boromir’s body to move casually towards the Gondorian’s rock hard flesh.

Boromir whimpered against him, automatically pressing against him as Aragorn started to caress him roughly, the ranger’s head resting slightly on his shoulder, Aragorn’s increasingly excited breathing loud in his ear. He could feel Aragorn’s own arousal, every bit as hard as Boromir’s, pressing against the curve of his buttocks, occasionally nudging against him. Boromir groaned as Aragorn speeded up his ministrations, almost impatiently, past caring that the she-elf was still watching avidly to the scene. He could feel Aragorn’s hand on one of his hips, holding him fast, his fingers almost digging into his flesh to keep the younger man still. Boromir bit his lip to keep from openly moaning, the pain a welcome distraction from the peak he could feel rushing towards him.

However, Aragorn still did not feel particularly merciful. At the point where Boromir was about to give up to his pleasures entirely, the ranger suddenly stopped. Boromir blinked in surprise, and started to look back.

“Eyes forward.” Aragorn’s growl was so very close to his ear, dangerously low. Boromir returned his eyes nervously back in front of him. An elven portrait stared back at him, an arrogant looking female resting on a delicate chair. He focused hard on it as he felt Aragorn’s hands on his back, this time rough and demanding, drift towards the cleft of his buttocks. Boromir swallowed as he registered the sound of a bottle opening to his side, presumably from the witch of a she-elf, although he dared not glance to the side to confirm these suspicions. Aragorn’s hands left his skin, only to come back after the swiftest of times.

Boromir’s lip was bitten once more as he felt Aragorn return to him, now cold hands prying him open to allow fingers access to him. He stiffened his back and caught back a yelp as he felt Aragorn’s fingers, rough and demanding, invade him. Aragorn, sensing his discomfort, tried to slow down his movements, but his excitement soon overtook him. Boromir gasped as a second, then a third finger was added, his lip now extremely sore from constant biting, although his groin still throbbed in demand, seemingly detached from the increasing fear in the Gondorian’s mind.

“He is ready,” he heard Arwen’s voice float towards him. Boromir could feel the fingers in him hesitate as their owner considered the implications, and stared unblinking at the portrait, who gave an unsympathetic look back. The fingers withdrew; Boromir’s words caught in his throat as he felt rough hands on his hips again, turning him slightly and pushing him against the bed. Boromir’s hands braced himself as he leant forward, his breath uneven, his eyes slightly wider as he struggled to come to terms with possibly begging for-

The first thrust took his breath away; the oil had done little to aid lubrications, despite Aragorn’s hasty attempts. He was too tight and too dry. A cry was forced from his lips at the second thrust, his hands making fists in the bed linen as he attempted to stay upright. He could feel Aragorn hesitate at this sound, the cry breaking into the ranger’s lusts.

“He is fine,” came Arwen’s voice again.

Apparently this was good enough for Aragorn as he started again. Boromir screamed at the next hard thrust inside him, certain that he was tearing. Aragorn stopped again.

“That is not fine,” Boromir heard him say. He could feel the ranger gently withdrawing, then stopping before he was clear of Boromir’s body. Boromir whimpered.

“You admit defeat now?” That hated voice again, now with a slight tinge of disbelief added to it. “And I thought you were stronger than that.”

“He is in pain,” replied Aragorn stubbornly, managing to shake whatever hold Arwen had over him and completely withdrawing from Boromir. There was a light sigh from the she-elf.

“He enjoys it.”

Boromir, who recognised he had been reduced to a “he”, felt like the entire energy had been zapped from his body. He stayed, panting heavily, in the same position that Aragorn left him. He jerked as the ranger lay a hand on his back. Aragorn hesitated again.

“Why do you wait, my love?” Arwen’s soft tones once more. “He is ready and waiting for you. You are his king. What could be more satisfying than pleasuring your king?”

Aragorn looked helplessly back down at the Gondorian in front of him. He could hear his breathing from here, mixed with the occasional sob. Boromir was still so very inviting, but the roughness of his dreams were swiftly turning into something he was not entirely sure he liked. Arwen moved to his side, conscious of his indecision.

“If he does not want it, why does he not say?” she said, a hand resting lightly and undoubtedly threateningly on one of Boromir’s bare buttocks whilst leaning over the prone figure as if to assess him more closely. Boromir’s bit got another biting, the copper tang of blood mixed in his mouth. He could feel the sharp edges of her nails on him, only lightly scratching the skin at this point, ready to slam down into him at the first mention of mutiny.

“Boromir?” he heard his name being spoken softly by Aragorn, a rather harsh contrast to the roughness of before. Boromir struggled to control his breathing as he felt the weight of the bed shift as Aragorn sat next to him, his hand warm and soft on the Gondorian’s shoulder. Arwen’s talons had shifted slightly, although he could feel one nail trace along his lower back in reminder.

“Boromir, speak to me,” Aragorn’s voice had a worried quality to it, the ranger privately wondering whether he had managed to traumatise the younger man to this extent. Boromir managed to get a good amount of air into his lungs.

“And say what?” he managed, as casually as he could make it. There was no way he was about to admit defeat in front of this pair. Arwen shifted impatiently.

“You see? He is fine. You worry too much,”

Aragorn ignored her, watching Boromir steadily. He still could not see the Gondorian’s face, Boromir resisting any attempts to move him. The ranger moved his hand across Boromir’s back, and had not reached even the lower back before he felt the younger man tense underneath him. He frowned, and moved off. Arwen watched him cautiously.

“And where are you going, my love?” she inquired. Aragorn looked back at her.

“I am going to get a salve.” He replied, continuing out of the door. Arwen watched him for a few more moments before sitting herself down in the place where Aragorn had been. She studied the Gondorian in a manner of idle interest. Boromir found himself glancing to meet her eyes, cold and dark in the light.

“I suppose,” she said. “you have no idea how long I have waited for this. I will not allow you, a mere mortal, to ruin months of planning due to your weaknesses.”

Boromir glared at her, suddenly finding the power to shift himself into a more comfortable and less vulnerable position on the bed.

“I don’t take orders from you,” he snapped at her. Arwen smiled, a cold polite smile.

“I think you will, child.” she murmured. “It would be in your best interests.”

“Are you threatening me now?” Boromir held onto his anger, his only defence. The smile grew amused.

“Why, yes. But that’s not the issue now is it. Everything holds dangers, Lord Boromir. You know that. I know that. Your journey to Rivendell was a danger. Getting out of bed each day is a danger. Scouting missions, for example, are incredibly dangerous, so I hear.” Her voice was light and sweet. He frowned at her, not understanding what point she was trying to make, although understanding there was something else there.

Arwen noticed the uncertainty in the grey-green eyes, and smiled at him again. “How is your brother, my Lord Boromir?”

Boromir stiffened immediately, his eyes hard. “Do not bring Faramir
into this,”

The she-elf looked mildly surprised. “Oh, but I must, under the circumstances.” She adjusted her position and studied him slightly closer. “You were not chosen at a whim, my dear child. I have done my research. You are close to your brother, are you not? Everyone can see it. The ways you spend so much time together, so happy.” She smiled sweetly at his angry but frightened expression. “Although I am sure not everyone knows of what occurs during these times together.”

“Leave him alone.” Boromir didn’t recognise his own voice through the harshness. Arwen shook her head playfully.

“Now that wouldn’t be fair at all, would it? Shame on you, Boromir.”

Boromir looked terrified. “Nothing happens.”

“I see.” Arwen nodded thoughtfully, raising her eyes to meet his. “And your father would understand this immediately.” Boromir looked away, shutting his eyes at the understanding noise from Arwen. “I thought not.” She said pointedly.

Boromir said nothing, his eyes away from the she elf beside him. Arwen moved closer to him, so that her breath was mere inches away from his ear.

“You will allow Aragorn whatever he wants. You will encourage him, make the appropriate noises, be enthusiastic. You will do this all with a smile on your face. Else I could make your brother’s life extremely difficult.” Arwen gently and carefully put a hand under Boromir’s chin to pull his head around to look at her. “Do you understand, boy?”

Boromir merely scowled, but both knew it was only for show.

“Do you?” They stared at each other. Boromir dropped his eyes first. There was a satisfied noise from Arwen who released Boromir’s chin and sat back.

“Good.” She said. “In which case I expect to see some action from you very shortly, do I make myself clear?”

Boromir nodded reluctantly. It was a few minutes more that Aragorn returned, a pot of salve in one hand, a suspicious look aimed at Arwen who had returned to her chair.

“I believe he has recovered sufficiently,” she remarked. “But no doubt you must make sure.”

Aragorn turned back to the bed, smiling gently at the younger man who was sitting in a more casual position on it, watching him. Boromir smiled back, and shifted in invitation for Aragorn to sit down beside him. The ranger did so, putting the pot down and not being able to resist being pulled into a long and lingering kiss by Boromir as soon as he was able. Aragorn immediately brought his arms around the Gondorian, pulling him closer, feeling the cold skin against his own.

“I have let you get cold,” he murmured, pulling away slightly. “But what is this? I thought you were..,”

“I got better.” Boromir was able to smile at Aragorn normally, feeling his original attraction for the man tug at him. The ranger looked at him thoughtfully, not wishing to argue but fearing the interference of Arwen in Boromir’s decisions. Boromir laughed at the concerned yet lustful expression in Aragorn’s eyes.

“Fear not. I have not been cohered into this,” he said in amusement. Aragorn smiled too, and shook his head.

“Of course not, forgive me,” he murmured at Boromir. “I should have known you would take orders from no one, my wild creature.”

Over Aragorn’s shoulder, Boromir’s eyes caught the self satisfied gaze of Arwen. The ranger had already started caressing the Gondorian’s body lightly, as though he were a delicate ornament.

“I won’t break, Aragorn,” Boromir turned back to the ranger. Aragorn returned his look with a steady gaze, shrugged, and pulled Boromir back into a suitable embrace, his hands returning rougher than before, Boromir returning the favours as best he could. Soon enough he felt Aragorn’s hands on him, moaning in approval loud enough for there not to be any quibble from Arwen at a later date. Not that he needed much encouragement; the earlier frustrations mixed with the drug still occupying his systems had made him incredibly sensitive to everything, his longing increasing by the minute. He shut his eyes at the feel of Aragorn’s teeth on his neck, not playing around anymore, but the small amount of pain seemed only to fuel his own desires as much as it obviously excited Aragorn. Boromir tried to give Aragorn back some of the attention he had been lavishing on Boromir, which the ranger refused by seizing the Gondorian’s hands tightly to stop them moving. There was a noise of protest from Boromir.

“Shush,” Aragorn murmured in his ear, the warm breath causing him to shiver in anticipation. “I have plans for you,”

Boromir’s eyes found their way back to Arwen, who was still watching in interest and who gave him a polite smile back. He looked back at Aragorn who had either not seen or did not care the glance towards his intended in his current plans. Suddenly the Gondorian found himself flat on his back, Aragorn having given him a hard shove towards his destination. Boromir stared upwards as the ranger leant over him with an extremely determined expression on his face, then grinned and swiftly rolled out from under Aragorn’s grasp. Aragorn watched him dumbfounded, and slightly cautiously, wary that this might be Boromir’s roundabout way of stating all was not well. This was clearly ruined when Boromir got to his hands and knees and glanced over his shoulder.

“Come on then, haven’t got all day you know,”

Arwen, who had straightened in her chair at the possible escape, relaxed slightly and smiled to herself. The child was not in any way back in her good books, but at least there was a glimmer of obedience.

Aragorn shook his head in amusement, and slapped Boromir hard but playfully on the raised rear.

“My rules, remember?”

“Your rules are too slow,” protested Boromir. Aragorn made a “hmmm” noise at the back of his throat, but seized the pot of salve without
any further protest. The Gondorian suddenly yelped with shock as something incredibly cold applied itself to his innermost secret areas. Or at least roughly, as Boromir jerked forwards to escape the sudden shock. Aragorn sighed in a dramatic fashion, put a hand on the small of Boromir’s back, and shoved him to lie face down on the bed. All in all, thought Boromir through a mouthful of pillow, far too much shoving recently.

“No moving,” came the instruction, the weight of Aragorn straddling his legs suddenly coming to Boromir’s attention.

“It’s cold!” complained Boromir, squirming slightly under the weight.

“It’s good for you,” Aragorn rested his hand lightly on Boromir’s back and scooped some more cold cream on a finger. He felt Boromir stiffen underneath him as he carefully inserted the salve coated finger inside him and smooth it over the ransacked nerves. Boromir twitched and shuddered underneath him like a nervous colt, but kept from saying anything except a whimper at the start. Soon Aragorn had finished medicine smoothing to his satisfaction, and got off Boromir’s legs.

Boromir glanced at him over his shoulder, panting slightly.

“You finished?”

“Yep.”

The Gondorian shifted onto his knees, and seized the salve pot. He took a reasonable quanitity under Aragorn’s suspicious look, and returned the expression with a cheerful grin.

“Think you missed a spot,” Boromir turned to run his hand along Aragorn’s erection, grinning even wider at Aragorn’s hiss against the cold, before stroking along it with such enthusiasm Aragorn almost came there and then. Boromir gave Aragorn another mischievous grin and positioned himself back on hands and knees, Aragorn’s gaze immediately being drawn to what was on offer. Boromir heard the ranger’s inwards breath, and tried not to tense his muscles as he felt the bed dip as Aragorn moved closer to him, the ranger’s hands moving to rest on Boromir’s hips. There was a pause.

“You’re shaking,”

“You just shoved an icicle up my arse,” complained Boromir, hoping this would explain it without further prying. However, he was in luck – of a sort. Without any further protest, he felt the tip of Aragorn’s member against him. Boromir managed to take in a gulp of air before Aragorn started pushing in earnest, feeling himself become so very… possessed. The pain was there of course, his head bowed, eyes shut, hands formed into fists in the bedspread. However, not a peep came from him, knowing full well Aragorn would stop immediately.

Aragorn paused, savouring the delicious tightness of the man around him, buried up to the hilt in Boromir, his breath ragged and uneven.

“By the Valor you’re beautiful,” he murmured against Boromir’s back, feeling the Gondorian struggle to control his own breathing, before losing himself completely, thrusting into the welcome tight warm that Boromir possessed. Boromir’s ability to keep a lid on his noises failed after the sixth thrust, but it was a noise of encouragement; the pain had numbed to a low and bearable ache, and Boromir’s longing to thrust back against Aragorn was increasing by the second. Aragorn laughed against him and slowed his movements down, smiling at Boromir’s noises of protest and timid nudges against him.

“There’s something you want.?” he purred.

“Get on with it, for the love of.,” panted Boromir desperately. Aragorn made a thoughtful noise, and delicately stroked Boromir’s arousal. Boromir almost jumped a mile.

“Shush, my little one,” murmured Aragorn, still oh so gently moving inside Boromir. Boromir groaned in frustration and bowed his head slightly. Aragorn carefully moved back until he had almost entirely withdrawn from the body of his lover, and paused before plunging back into Boromir hard. Boromir whimpered again, and Aragorn delighted in the moans he received as he continued to thrust into the Gondorian, each time harder until he was sure he was seeing stars by the sheer force. Boromir, meanwhile, was thrusting almost as hard back against him, the timidity a mere memory as he demanded more from his lover. Aragorn rose to the challenge, attempting to last that bit longer as he felt himself come towards the edge. His hand groped clumsily for Boromir, and he felt and heard the Gondorian cry out as he roughly stroked the man into conclusion, the impossible tightness getting even more impossibly tight around Aragorn as the warrior clenched around him in his orgasm, Boromir’s panting mixing with Aragorn’s own cry as he reached his peak and exploded inside him.

Both men collapsed onto the bed, Aragorn’s arm wrapped round Boromir. There was a distinctly satisfied moan from Boromir, who pressed against the wonderfully warm body of his lover as though he was a comfort blanket. Aragorn kissed the Gondorian’s shoulder fondly before flopping onto his back and staring at the ceiling, a smile still playing on his lips. Boromir made a sulky noise.

“I’m hardly far away,” protested Aragorn, giving Boromir a light cuff on the side of the head. Boromir pouted and turned over himself, his eyes accidentally falling onto Arwen. The she-elf had been watching in enjoyment, and had a particularly predatory expression on her face. Boromir shuddered slightly, which Aragorn took to mean he was cold and sat up, wrapped an arm around him.

“Poor baby,” he kissed Boromir’s forehead, unaware that Boromir’s eyes were firmly fixed on the elven threat in the corner. Sure enough, Arwen walked casually towards them. Aragorn smiled at her.

“You enjoyed my present?” she enquired sweetly, an equal smile on her face. Aragorn laughed, his humour restored.

“Certainly something I cannot forget,” he replied cheerfully. Boromir managed not to shrink back as Arwen reached out to trail a finger lightly down his cheek, his eyes still fixed onto hers, trying to assure himself that she was satisfied by him. Aragorn noticed the slight flinch and looked in surprise at Boromir. Arwen took his mind off such unusual behaviour by lightly kissing Aragorn, moving her attentions swiftly onwards.

“So you would enjoy another session?” she purred. “Possibly explore some of those… themes you were speaking of before?”

Aragorn flushed. “I didn’t think you had been listening,”

“I always listen. You discover such wonderful things simply by letting people talk,” her eyes flickered knowledgeably over Boromir, then back at Aragorn warmly. “Does that not tempt you?”

Aragorn’s arm tightened around Boromir. “It would,” he confessed, his voice lower. Boromir’s eyes moved from Arwen’s self satisfied expression to what he could see of Aragorn in confusion and growing unease.

“Themes?” he said softly when it was obvious no one was going to start informing him. Aragorn started, guiltily.

“Of course this would all be with your permission,” he hastened to add to the younger man. Arwen’s eyes fell on him. Boromir swallowed nervously.

“I doubt whether that would be a problem,” replied the she-elf, smiling innocently at Boromir. “Is that not right Boromir?”

Boromir, his mind working on possibilities on what he was getting himself into, slowly nodded. It might be a rough few nights indeed.

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