Faramir Fiction Archive

Anywhere With You (NC-17)

Written by Kissa

20 September 2006 | 12845 words

Title: Anywhere with You
Author: Kissa (kissaperkele@gmail.com)
Beta by the very kind Laurëlóte (thank you, dear!)
Pairing: Boromir/Faramir
Rating: from PG to NC17 eventually
Note: I changed some facts to suit the storyline
Disclaimer: The characters belong to JRR Tolkien. I just borrow them, and the cast of the LOTR movies, play with them a bit, then promise to put them back safely. No profits are made, no harm is intended.

---

Chapter 1

“Can I walk with you, little one?” The tall blond asked courteously, although really there was no need.

“Of course, if it pleases you.” The younger man answered, his smile, shy as always, brightening his brother’s mood.

They walked side by side in silence, until they left the White City. Once outside, the young one slipped his hand in the older man’s welcoming grasp and they continued like that, in a silent communion. For, in fact, they had no one else in this world but each other. Their mother had long departed, and their father was Lord first, and demanding parent later, but only to Boromir. Faramir didn’t even exist for the aging Steward. Boromir knew where his allegiance lay, and submitted to his father’s will in all things. But his little brother was his weakness.

At times, Faramir even wished Denethor would treat him badly, scold him, because even that would have been better than being completely ignored, dealt with as if he was a servant or a random soldier. He had tried to catch his father’s attention, if not approval. But now he had given up, as his father had plainly made en eloquent case out of ignoring him as if he wasn’t even in the world.

Boromir was the only person who asked him how he was doing and also stuck around to hear the reply. Boromir worried for him. And so far Boromir had occupied his whole heart.

They entered the forest and left the beaten track, making their way through thick bushes and trees. Anyone seeing them could have assumed they were a pair of lovers seeking a comfortable refuge to share themselves over the night.

But they were not. They had gone outside the city walls in need of privacy, not for coupling, but to get away from the Steward’s spies.

Boromir despised his own father for the faulty way he took care of Gondor, its people and last but not least, his brother. But he followed orders, like a well trained captain. He was nineteen and any attempt for rebellion sounded nice, but was soon dismissed as dishonorable.

They went to a secluded clearing, a place which Boromir had discovered and liked because for the small brook which crossed it and the few logs where they could sit.

They always came here to talk, undisturbed.

“So this will be your first time away from home… how do you fare?” Boromir awkwardly began.

“I have nothing to miss here but you, and you too will be away.” Faramir said, his eyes glittering wet in the fading sunlight. “Maybe we shall meet elsewhere, in a moment of respite? I am not yet ready to give up on being cuddled by my big brother.” He said, his face lighting up with a smile he reserved for his Boromir and for him alone.

“I do hope we will meet on territories not under father’s authority. For I would spend my entire life spoiling you, beloved.” Boromir said dreamily, his gaze directed at Faramir, but unfocused. What he was thinking of, only he knew. He shuddered violently.

“What is it, Bori?” Asked Faramir.

Boromir smiled at hearing the endearment.

“’Tis nothing, dearest one. Merely a chill.” He said and his heart asked Faramir’s for forgiveness, as he was lying. “I… hate that you must leave.” He admitted.

Faramir moved closer to him and hugged him tightly, nestling against his brother’s wider frame. Boromir sighed from the depths of his being and tightened his hold on his brother. For some reason, sorrow drowned him and made it very hard for him to speak at that time.

Boromir locked himself in his room on the day that Faramir set out in the morning to Ithilien on horseback, taking with him the last rays of sunshine from Boromir’s life.

Chapter 2

(months later, in Rohan)

“Can I walk with you, Captain?” A familiar voice resounded behind him.

He twitched.

Joy flooded him as he slowly turned, not believing his ears. He had to see, he had to touch.

Faramir stood behind him and stumbled back a step or two when his brother practically jumped him, enfolding him in a bone-crushing hug. Boromir’s hands roamed his back up and down then went up through his now long hair. Finally the hands settled on the younger man’s face, callused fingertips tenderly tracing the outlines of beloved features.

“It is you! Eru strike me, it is you, little one! But…how? Won’t your patrol captain reprimand you for going away?”

Faramir hugged his brother in reply and said:

“Nay, dear brother, I am on a mission back here. I have to deliver a letter to the King and take his answer back to Ithilien.”

“Are you here alone then? Where are your quarters?” Boromir hastily asked.

Faramir laughed, a sound so melodic and clarified that it made Boromir’s body tingle and his breath caught.

“Bori, I am a Ranger now. I sleep in the hayloft, I wasn’t given any quarters in the castle!… But I would very much like to join you for a long talk and… perhaps some ale?”

It was Boromir’s turn to laugh.

“You may be the most breathtakingly beautiful apparition in this land, but there will be no ale for you! You are not yet of age, and if I do give you some and it is found out, it is you who will take the punishment, not I.”

“What’s the punishment?” Faramir said, after a short moment during which he appeared to be pondering on his options.

“Ten whips in the public place. Théoden is a good king, but he hates the corruption of the young and issued many harsh laws to prevent just that. As you know, Rohan people, especially the men, are pretty prone to debauchery .” Boromir said, but stopped as he realized he sounded like a tour guide, one for sexual tourism, because if anyone was in search of bedroom exoticism, Rohan was where it was at.

He shuddered at the thought of his pure little brother falling prey to some Rohirrim’s lust. That was one wrong way to start a sex-life, in his view. For Faramir only, because he liked to think of his brother as innocent and in need of protection, whereas for himself, he was very grateful for the things Théodred had shown him. In his view, it was bad enough that Faramir spent his time along the Rangers, who could act pretty desperately at times, after months alone in the woods… desperately enough to mistake a fourteen year old boy with a willing wench.

Boromir snapped out of his musings as Faramir came close to him and hugged him tightly, resting his head on his brother’s shoulder.

“I’m so glad I can do this without father watching and scowling at me for being too smoochy.” Faramir giggled contentedly.

Boromir gladly allowed his brother as much time as he needed into the hug, burying his nose in Faramir’s wavy, perfumed curls. Although his little brother had spent most of his time outdoors with the rangers, he still had that exquisite, sweet baby-scent that pertained to him alone and that had a most interesting effect on his older brother.

When the grip of Faramir’s arms around him lessened slightly, Boromir gently pulled back and looked at his brother, smiling approvingly at the little one’s happy face. Then, taking his hand, he led him to his own quarters.

When they got there, Boromir had the servants draw a bath while he and Faramir went to sit at a small table under the window to share news from home and interesting facts they’d learned. After all, Boromir, although he had gained his status as a man and represented his father already, was only nineteen, and the playfulness had yet to be eradicated from his nature. Plus, this playfulness always came forth in the presence of his little brother.

For instance, like when he sat so near to Faramir, listening to him with a straight, serious face but suddenly jumping from his place to tickle Faramir breathless, not even giving him a chance to finish the word he was uttering at that moment. The servants raised a few tolerant eyebrows and shrugged. Men from outside of Rohan were strange, acting like boys where everyone could see and judge them, some thought.

As the bath was ready, Boromir gave leave to the servants and bid Faramir to undress.

Faramir did just that, and when he finished taking off his outer garments, standing in his breeches and shirt alone, Boromir’s mouth fell agape.

He’d never seen his brother so thin, although they had been apart only for a short while. The shock was considerable. As Faramir took off his remaining clothes and stood in front of Boromir for a while before gingerly slipping into the bath, Boromir had the time to notice the elongated limbs, the fact that the baby fat had disappeared and had been replaced by muscles, not big but instead graceful and delicate, rippling under the creamy skin of his brother. In some respects, Faramir was starting to look like a man, but… Boromir found himself staring at his brother’s nay, not handsome, but straight out beautiful body, which looked more like the elegant shape of an elf than the hairy, bulkier one of a man. A strange, powerful emotion washed over Denethor’s first born, and drowned him like a tidal wave. It was then that he knew why he had refused Théodred when he had asked him to… well. Boromir mentally blushed at remembering Théodred’s honeyed words.

“Bori? What troubles you so?” Came Faramir’s warm voice and made the older man twitch back to awareness.

“ ‘tis nothing serious, lovely one.” Boromir spoke, not even noticing the special endearment he’d used.

But Faramir did and it made him wonder, as something deep within him reacted quite surprisingly to his brother’s words.

“You look lost in your thoughts… is there anything weighing on your mind?” Faramir’s voice sweetened even more.

”I wish we were living in different times, that you and I could really enjoy each other’s presence and support. Father is going to fantastic lengths to… keep us apart.” Boromir mused aloud. It wasn’t the truth that question deserved, but it wasn’t a lie either.

“And I wish you wouldn’t be pouting so on this precious occasion. I am quite happy to see you and would love it so much to see the normal you now, here, where father’s shadow has no power.” Faramir spoke from the tub, opening his eyes to look directly into Boromir’s soul.

“As usual, you have a valid point!” Boromir cheered up and came next to the tub, crouching behind Faramir. “Shall I do your hair and back?” he offered.

“If it doesn’t repulse you… Eru knows what bugs have found a nest in my hair since my last bath with real shampoo!” Faramir said and laughed lightly, but he slouched into the tub so Boromir could start work on his hair.

A mere bath and cleaning his hair had never felt like this… it felt so good physically but inside Faramir was in great distress, as if his heart was a scared sparrow trapped in his chest and struggling to get free. There was something bittersweet about the scene his brother and he were in, and Faramir was disturbed enough to realize he was seeing things from the outside… which was usually, in his case, a sign of foretelling.

Boromir’s hands were traveling deftly and carefully through his brother’s wet hair and on his back, slowly massaging the knots away.

“You should learn how to relax when you ride… otherwise you will have many sore muscles and even bones. You should keep to the correct posture without being stiff in it.” Boromir advised, his warm breath ghosting over his younger brother’s damp skin.

“Ai, Bori, that tickles!” gasped Faramir, then added more seriously: “I shall try to do so, riding is such an ordeal!”

He stood up and Boromir gave him a big towel, trying not to stare at his brother’s chronically scrawny, but nonetheless adorable butt. As Faramir bent a bit to dry his first leg and foot and to get out of the tub, Boromir spanked that butt playfully, which managed to unbalance his brother and to make him land on the floor, face first.

Boromir cursed himself and went immediately to Faramir’s aid, lifting him in his arms like a mere child and carrying him to the bed, helping him sit and looking him over worriedly. He hadn’t hit that hard, though… There must have been something else also…

“Are you alright, little one?” He asked first.

“I’ll live.” Faramir mumbled. “Now why did you do that?” He asked with a sweet pout, making Boromir want to appease him with a peck, but he held back because he was at fault at the moment.

“Come on, I’ve done it before and you do it to me every time you get the chance! You even pushed me in that freezing pond using the same trick!” Boromir defended himself.

“Yes, but never when your butt was an inferno of pain because you’re saddle sore!” Faramir’s pout grew.

With another dry towel in hand, Boromir began to dry his brother’s hair with one hand, as he used the other hand to pull Faramir close to him and hold him lovingly.

“I’m sorry, why didn’t you tell me…? I know remedies for that…”

“It hurts even now, when I sit!” Faramir sniffled a bit. He loved it when his brother got overprotective of him and he was being pampered.

“Then guess who isn’t sleeping in the hayloft tonight!” Boromir said in a stern voice. “That is not negotiable!” He ended with a smile as he saw Faramir had opened his mouth to object.

Faramir looked his real age again as he drew himself up on the bed to lie down on half of it, although the bed wasn’t that big as it was meant for one large warrior, not two slender Gondorians. Only when he saw Boromir staring again did he realize he was butt-naked and he felt himself blush. He looked around embarrassed, trying to locate something to cover himself with, but there was nothing he could use.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t bring a nightshirt, I wasn’t expecting a bath and… all this.” He said looking miserable.

“Don’t fuss over it, little one. We are brothers after all, it’s not the first time I see you naked and… it’s not like I see anything new that I don’t have myself.” He winked, trying to make his brother unwind. He began to undress himself and, leaving only the under-breeches on, he fumbled in his pack for what he needed to soothe his brother’s saddle-inflicted swelling and pain.

Retrieving a small jar of some sort, he came back to the bed and climbed in.

“If you could turn on your belly, so I can…” He said, also gesturing to accompany his words.

Faramir obediently turned, fully trusting his brother, who was acting wonderfully again, so mature and so in control that it made him fuzzy inside.

Boromir, once he was presented with the full lovely sight of his brother’s behind, took a deep breath and willed his stirring groin to relax before he opened the jar he was holding. The room was soon filled with a spicy, pungent aroma of tree oils and resins.

“I suppose, by the smell, that that thing burns. Try not to get any of it in delicate places!” Faramir warned.

“I’ll try not to.” Boromir gave back cheekily, as if he intended to do the exact opposite.

But he could not knowingly cause his brother any discomfort, so he set about leisurely massaging the cream into his brother’s tense buttocks, at the same time kneading the muscles. As he did so, he watched avidly as he was offered the full view of Faramir’s most secret places. He knew that shouldn’t have excited him so, but he simply didn’t care. Faramir was gorgeous and he was his adored little brother. When he was done with the treatment, he bent down and lovingly bit at one of his brother’s buttocks, awaking Faramir from the contented nap he had slid into during the massage.

“Boromir. Gods! I beg you, never do that again!” Faramir pleaded, turning around halfway so Boromir could see the panic on his face.

“Did I hurt you?” Boromir asked, thinking it was the second screw-up in one evening.

“Nay, on the contrary… but you startled me. You bit me without warning and you’ve never done that before!” Faramir calmed down a bit.

”Was it that bad, now that the shock is gone?” the older man asked.

Faramir just gave him a thousand meter stare that spoke volumes. It had not felt bad at all, it had felt fucking good, sending a flash of… something unknown straight to his member and making him lose his perception of the world surrounding him for a moment.

“You’re torturing me, Boromir.” He said.

The other man sighed. He now knew. Faramir was fourteen and even the slightest caress probably threw him in an abyss of raging hormones, but what he didn’t know was that if he had had the wish to take Faramir right then and there, he would have met no resistance or objection whatsoever.

Instead, he merely settled for putting out the light and drawing his brother’s naked body into his arms, letting him curl up against him like he had done so many times when they were younger.

“How is your butt, still sore from the saddle?” He asked in the darkness.

“Nay, your magic balm did the trick apparently. I’ll be as good as new in the morning.” Faramir purred sleepily. “Oh, and Boromir, before we sleep…”

“What is it, dearest?”

“I love you.”

But in what way? Boromir wondered in his mind, as his lips formed the words “I love you too.” and his body warned him that he would not get any rest that night.

Chapter 3

Morning came at an agonizingly slow pace for Boromir, who had willed himself not to squirm in his bed, as he was holding Faramir and didn’t want to disturb the little one’s sleep. But as soon as the roosters began to crow, he looked down at the beautiful being in his arms, almost unbelieving it was his brother. All he wished for in the world, everything he thought of as beautiful and worth fighting for was right there in his arms, stirring a bit as a stray sunbeam tickled his face.

Boromir blew lightly on Faramir’s face to chase a stray lock of hair which fell on his brother’s face, then without giving it much thought, he bent down and kissed the young one’s petal lips. They were pliant and soft under the touch of his own, but then Faramir awoke and wide, blue eyes stared back at him questioningly.

“Sorry, little one. I couldn’t help it. You look so peaceful when you sleep…” Boromir excused his gesture.

“Boromir? Do you… think someone, at some point, might find me acceptable to look at and love me? I mean… love me enough to become my mate?” Faramir asked in a small voice.

Cursing their father’s technique of dismantling his second son’s self-confidence piece by piece, the older Gondorian kissed his brother again, this time on the tip of his nose.

”You have no idea how beautiful you are, little one! You are so much more graceful than other boys your age… and you are definitely prettier than me!”

“But why do all the girls only look at you?” Faramir pouted.

“Because father pays them to!” Boromir said. “I don’t even like any of them…”

Faramir looked at his brother with wide eyes.

“You don’t like girls? But… you’re grown up! You must like girls! Father wants an heir!”

“He’s not getting one from me. Not anytime soon, that is.” Boromir clarified.

Faramir tickled his brother’s chest a bit before asking:

“What’s wrong? Sex didn’t turn out to be like advertised?”

“Um… not exactly. I found out I do not with to just find someone to couple with. Not for heirs, not for Gondor or for father’s sake. I wish to find someone to love and to be loved by! I let Théodred do some things to me, but even those felt awkward because…Theo is only a friend and… you know… I don’t want him to be more!”

Faramir chuckled and whistled a bit.

“So you had sex with Théodred? Ewwww….”

“We didn’t do that!” Boromir glared mockingly. “He just reached into my breeches and touched my… and when I protested he kissed me! I didn’t like it because he smells like pipeweed too strongly! And it was wet!”

“Awwww…so you didn’t like it because it was wet or because it was him?” Faramir inquired.

“Because of both! I felt like a girl surrounded by sailors who had been at sea for a year! Apparently everyone here is intent on getting me to one of their orgies… This is why I never drink when I’m in Rohan.”

“Would you try it with me? I mean a kiss, not an orgy…” Came the shy question.

It was Boromir’s turn to stare.

“Are you sure? I’m not the best teacher!” He said and felt himself blush.

“I want you to do it, Boromir, and no one else on Arda!” Faramir stated and wrapped his arms around his brother’s neck to confirm his willingness.

Boromir sighed and wet his now dry, flaky lips, biting at them a bit to soften them, and with a final deep breath he touched his mouth to his brother’s.

Faramir’s lips would always be a small shock to Boromir. Their sweetness, their soft, creamy texture were disarming. With Faramir pressing his naked body close to him in such innocent, trusting surrender, Boromir felt projected in a world where there were only the two of them and he was accepted as he was, without having to prove himself in front of any lord, captain or demanding father. He sighed into his brother’s open mouth and savored him delicately, first shyly licking his lower lip then delving inside into the waiting wet heat. As Faramir was fidgeting a bit, their tongues brushed against each other by accident and so Boromir discovered there was a pleasant side to wet kisses. But wet, not slobbery like Theordred’s. Every inexperienced gesture from Faramir felt just right, perfect, and he tasted heavenly, like nothing Boromir had sampled before.

The gentle kiss turned fiercer when Boromir nipped at his brother’s lips and sucked on his tongue for long moments, until he felt the body against him stiff with arousal. His hand went lower of its own accord, from cupping his brother’s cheek to lightly stroking his sensitive neck and brushing over a small nipple, which earned him a helpless moan from Faramir.

The older Gondorian slid a leg between Faramir’s and parted them, maneuvering himself on top of his brother, so that he could feel the maddening touch of their hard members pressed together. As his lips descended to kiss and nip at the other nipple, his hips rocked slowly, eliciting a desperate wail from the little one. The wail became longer and sharper as the hip-motion didn’t cease and Faramir planted his hands in his brother’s sandy-blond hair, softly massaging the scalp, not pressing down, just holding on and lightly touching.

Boromir raised his eyes and looked into his brother’s pools of blue.

“I am very close now, little one.” He panted out “I love you more than life itself.”

Faramir closed his eyes for a split-second, overwhelmed by the strength of the sensations washing over him, his hands sliding lower onto Boromir’s shoulders and pulling him even closer.

“I… love you too. You are my entire world…” He gasped right before his body stiffened even more and he exploded messily between their bodies, his passion-contorted face and the whole feel of his writhing body pushing Boromir over the edge too.

When they both came down from their trance, the room was flooded with sunlight and to Faramir everything bright and shiny paled in front of his brother’s golden, godlike look as he lay on top of him, his skin, hair and every outline bathed by the light of the early day. He tightened his legs around Boromir, knowing that they belonged like that forever and above all else.

Chapter 4

They had to clean up and get dressed as soon as it was time for Boromir to return to his meetings with the Rohan officials. As Faramir made his sleepy way towards the hayloft, a page approached him and said the King had given his answer to the letter from Ithilien.

Faramir quickly replaced his traveling clothes with more formal ones, and as soon as he did that, he hurried to meet the King. On his way there, he saw the men and women were eyeing him strangely but he thought it was because of his milky-white skin. He was wrong. Though white skin was quite unusual for the wild, tanned inhabitants of Rohan, the reason why they eyed him was simply because, dressed in a blue tunic, with cream leggings and boots, the boyish young man looked jaw-dropping.

Once he was allowed in the private room to speak to the king, he entered and waited for the King to address him, as was the custom and once they got rid of the formalities, they attacked some small talk about Ithilien and Prince Imrahil. Théoden was even hunting for gossip, as far as Faramir could tell. But he had never paid attention to the things which went on around him if they weren’t somehow connected to his duty.

Their conversation was interrupted by a side-door being opened forcefully and by noise coming from outside. Théoden smiled and told Faramir to remain seated, while he stood up and planted his hands on his hips. Faramir looked at the King in confusion. He was laughing softly, as if waiting for his favorite joke to be told.

Into the room burst a fighting pair, in the form of a moving tangle of rolling limbs and flying punches, sharp screams, wild growls and tousled blonde hair.

“Young Lord Faramir, meet my nephew Éomer and my niece Éowyn! Children, this is Faramir from Ithilien.” He said, his voice drowned in laughter.

//Children?// Faramir thought. //But these two are older than I am! Or so they look… //

The two fighting youths stopped their fighting, looked guiltily at their uncle and then, straightening their clothes, they advanced towards Faramir to make his acquaintance.

Faramir noticed that while the tall blond with a leonine look frightened him, when a warm paw was placed in sign of friendship on his shoulder and he was held briefly next to a wide, hard chest as he was hugged, in the fashion of Rohan men, until his bones cracked. Surprisingly soft lips kissed his cheeks and soft hair brushed his face, and then suddenly he was released with a snort.

Éowyn was more courteous and less violent in expressing her pleasure in meeting the Gondorian. She also kissed his cheeks like her brother had done, but she was considerate enough not to put a strain on his bones, even though Faramir saw that she had it in her to do it anyway.

She was cute, he decided, there and then. And her brother was a fine looking man too, imposing and wild, looking like a lion that chose to act as a pussycat for the moment. He would one day be a leader of many men, a little voice whispered inside Faramir’s mind as he looked at Éomer.

When the two Rohirrim siblings remembered their earlier feud, they almost attacked each other with only small low grunts as warning, before Théoden quickly intervened:

“I see you at least bothered to put on some clean clothes for once. Now be kind and make Faramir feel among friends until dinner! I expect, Faramir, “ He said, turning to address the Gondorian, “That you will stay for dinner with us? Your brother Boromir will be there too!” The King ended with a wink.

//Did he just do what I think he did?// Faramir stared at the King. //These Rohirrim are strange indeed… and the royals have totally lost it!// He thought affectionately. Of course, he could not have known from personal experience that a family was also about laughter and warmth, not just about etiquette and duty…

He was once again grabbed, this time by the waist, by both Éomer and Éowyn who guided him outside without giving him the possibility to take his leave properly from the King. The King didn’t seem to expect any salute though… He sent an air-kiss in their vague direction and left the hall through another exit.

Éomer and Éowyn wrapped a warm arm each around Faramir’s waist and they engaged in small talk, soon turning their shy guest into a friend. They raided the kitchens and scared some maids. Éomer even dared to tousle Faramir’s hair and steal the thong that had kept his hair in place and challenged his Gondorian friend to take back what was his, which Faramir succeeded with a short, effective, but light knee-kick.

Éomer looked at him in surprise and asked: “Where the… did you learn that, mate?”

Faramir helped him up and laughed softly, answering him it was one of the first things he had learned as a Ranger in training.

“Oh you are a Ranger?” Éowyn joined the conversation. “Rangers are so… wonderfully skilled! I wish women could be Rangers too, I would enlist in a second!”

“Éowyn, you would enlist just so you can look at naked men! But I wager you would hate not being able to bathe for weeks, even months!” Éomer snorted.

The young woman pouted, having to admit her brother was right. Her pout gave Faramir the opportunity to see how lovely and cute she really was, now that she wasn’t acting reservedly like she had in the throne room.

“Let’s go to the gardens, I’m challenging you to a fight in the grass!” Éomer said and dragged the others along.

They were walking in a row on a narrow path along the walls, but Faramir’s keen Ranger hearing caught the sound of a faint moan. He put a finger to his lips to silence the others and they all listened. Treading stealthily, they approached the source of the sound, which died from time to time, and Faramir, who was walking ahead, froze in his tracks as he nearly took a turn around a corner. He drew back hastily and stared in horror.

Éomer and Éowyn also took a peek and also froze at what they saw. Their cousin Théodred, heir to the throne of Rohan, was pinning some poor lad to a big rock, their breeches down and Théodred mounting the blond as if he was acting as stud to a mare.

What they didn’t know, and what had made Faramir gasp in horror, was that he had recognized Boromir as the person being taken in such an explicit and degrading manner by the other man.

A pained cry tore through the silence and Théodred laughed, saying:

“Oh come come now, you know you like it! I know you, little slut, you’d do anything for even the promise of a thick Rohan length in your greedy little hole!”

As Boromir tried to protest, he was backhanded brutally and blood trickled from his mouth on the rock beneath him.

Faramir knew what he was witnessing was dishonorable to say the least, although he had never watched people having consensual sex and couldn’t tell the difference. He snapped out of his perplexity and advanced on Théodred, yanking him off and away from Boromir, which tore an even more pitiful and pained yelp from his brother, who slouched forward onto the rock, his knees having given way.

Éomer and Éowyn came out from around the corner and three pairs of burning eyes stared at Théodred, expecting him to back away and be afraid of having been found in such a position.

Faramir was torn between wanting to simply kill the unknown man for hurting his beloved brother and checking on Boromir and to tend to his injuries. Of course the latter won in his heart so he let his new Rohirrim friends keep Théodred busy while he helped Boromir pull his breeches up and lace them. He shifted close to his hurt brother and held him, feeling his fingers dig cruelly in the thin flesh of his arms from the effort of trying to hold back tears.

“Do you even think what telling father will do to diplomatic relations with Gondor?”
Théodred’s voice resounded. “And I will have the two of you split and sent to die in some far-off outpost! And,” He raised his voice even higher, making it a roar, turning to the two Gondorians, “If word of this gets out and I find out you squealed, I will take it out on both your asses! Mark my words!”

He left the scene, after making sure everyone there had been given a good reason to fear him and to shut up.

“One of these days, Théodred, you will run out of luck. And I’ll be there…” Whispered Éomer through clenched teeth.

He then ran over to where Faramir was still holding his brother, and helped his new friend carry Boromir to his room. Éowyn ran ahead of them to get clean clothes and salve and to prepare a bath. They couldn’t alert the healers because it would mean to add up to Boromir’s humiliation.

Éomer placed Boromir carefully on the bed and Faramir removed his torn and stained clothing. His older brother was so vulnerable now, he looked so… broken, thought Faramir and he barely controlled his impulse to cover him with his own body and sob until no more tears would flow.

He felt a warm hand brushing his shoulder and again it felt like the friendly touch of a big feline; it was Éomer, letting him know he and his sister were leaving him alone with his charge. They would have helped, Faramir saw it in the blond’s eyes, but they understood Boromir would not wish to be seen by many when he was down.

Faramir nodded and watched them go, then he got up and locked the door.

He sat down on the bed next to his trembling brother and ran his fingers tenderly down over the contorted features.

“Brother…love…can you hear me?” He asked, his voice shaking. “You need to come back to me, please.”

A faint trembling of eyelids told him Boromir could hear him.

“You must come back. You are still my strong brother and I love you the same as before. I will take care of you…” He nearly drowned the last words into a sob, but held it back. He shouldn’t allow himself to feel pity for Boromir. Nothing had changed, his brother was still Gondor’s hope. He kept telling himself that, wanting so badly to believe it.

He took a clean cloth from the stack Éowyn had provided and dipped it in water. It took him hours of long, thorough movements before he had carried out the task of cleaning his brother’s body. He had kissed every newly cleansed patch of skin, re-claiming it from the mark of vile touches.

In the end, he had to make his brother turn onto his belly, to tend to his most injured part, but before, he had to take care of the many deep scrapes on Boromir’s manhood. He could even imagine Théodred’s ring-adorned hand trying to coax responses from his victim, tugging cruelly on the abused member until the metal jewelry had dug into the fragile skin, tearing it.

Swallowing his tears, Faramir felt the need to open himself up and hide his brother deep inside him, having understood what he had seen Théodred do. It wasn’t about lust. He knew lust very well, like a constricting snake creeping up on him at nights when his hand strayed to his member in the dark, his mind set on Boromir’s image. He did not know the abuse of power, what he had seen in Théodred’s eyes… not pleasure of the flesh, but the crushing victory over one who had not willingly submitted to him. Faramir knew Boromir would never bend his knee in front of anyone, not even their father, the Steward.

He had locked the door to keep others away, but also to keep himself from rushing into Théodred’s chambers and gutting him out like a fish, stuffing his foul member in his arrogant mouth to muffle his dying cries.

He had never felt hate, white, all-consuming and blind towards anyone until the heir to the throne of Rohan. He let it flow through him, and when it died down a bit, he felt guilty for letting his mind dwell on his brother’s assailant instead of him.
He smeared salve on his fingers and lovingly grabbed his brother’s member, covering every last scrape with the healing ointment. It didn’t even harden under his mechanical stimulation, but instead the action tore pained cries from Boromir.

Faramir knew. It was humiliating.

Once that was finished, he turned his brother to lie down on his belly and tended to his torn backside. His heart skipped a few beats when, upon parting the mounds of flesh to look at the damage, he saw its extent. It must have been excruciating to be entered so roughly and uncaringly. It was a brutal thing to do and a degrading one at the same time, and the Steward’s second son didn’t even begin to understand the full meaning of that act.

All he knew was that his brother lay broken in front of him, whimpering softly at every touch in tender places. He bent down and kissed his brother’s abused opening and then the flesh around it, and the hips, on which bruises began to show. Never, in his attempts to soothe his brother’s pain, did he feel his actions were wrong, as they were deeply heartfelt and came from the innocent intention to make things better through tender touches, like mothers soothe their babies’ scraped knees with kisses to the wounds.

A few thousands of small caresses later, he finally drew the covers over his brother’s body and held him, blowing out the candles. In the darkness, faintly lit only by the moonlight, he heard his brother whisper:

”I wanted you to be my first…”

Faramir then wept unrestrained, silent tears falling hotly on Boromir’s face, creeping between cold lips. His voice cracked when he said:

“I am your first, Boromir, and I will be. Only love counts…” His words died in his throat and he bent down to press his mouth onto his brother’s. If felt like kissing a marble statue, but he didn’t feel rejected. The fire would take more time to resurface and burn at full force once more.

Chapter 5

They fled Rohan like outlaws, under the cover of darkness just before dawn.

“I know you are probably very sore, brother, but we must ride out now. My mission has been carried out and you no longer have to stay here for even more courtesy talks with the book-keepers and the King’s clerks. It is beneath your dignity, your task as Gondor’s ambassador is done. Let us go out separate ways, you back home to Gondor and I to Ithilien. We will meet soon, in sunnier times.” Faramir said as they saddled up their horses and mounted outside the gates.

Boromir looked at him in the dim moonlight and sadness was etched on his face as he spoke:

“Is it yet another of your visions, little one? May I remind you that only the ill-fated ones come true. Is it your wishful thinking maybe? What are our chances? What makes you say that sunnier times lie ahead and not death or separation?

Faramir reached over and caressed his brother’s face as if he were the older one offering comfort.

“I know, dear brother, that when we meet again I will give myself to you and no one, not even the Black Gates will keep us apart.”

His promise did not register in Boromir’s mind until a few moments afterwards, when a violent shudder went through him.

“You must think me a cruel and low being to do such a thing to you. My desire for you burns like the very fires of Mordor, but never would I be able to act on it, now that I know what its fulfillment brings upon the other.”

“Nay… there are other ways, I know it, and I shall seek for them, I shall learn them for you. I will find a way to wrap you tightly in my love and keep you safe in it, safer than behind any shield made by man or elf. Mark my words, beloved.”

Boromir looked at him a bit frightened, never having seen such passion etched on his little brother’s face. He knew Faramir had a perseverance that made things come about according to his will, making it look like a magical hand had touched them. His whole body was still sore, especially that part of him which burned and made him sit uncomfortably in his saddle, and his mind was heavy with shame and despair. His brother had promised him his body… he could no longer promise that to anyone of his choice. His hate directed at Théodred knew no limits, but he would plan his revenge well and long, making sure the heir to the throne of Rohan would get to feel his wrath, his humiliation, and his pain too.

When their roads had to part, Faramir leaned towards Boromir and kissed him for a long time, lovingly and tenderly, only an un-intrusive caress of lips on lips before advising:

“Do not mope, do not show your longing to father or he will know. We cannot afford to be caught.”

At that moment, Boromir would have promised anything just to feel those loving lips on his own, a kiss so healing and true which had the power to erase part of the humiliation and disgust that Théodred had marked him with.

And Faramir kissed him again, then rode away without looking back, both of them knowing a longer goodbye would have resulted in them never leaving that very spot.

---

(Minas Tirith)

“I am so tired of you challenging my every decision! And frankly, I am bored by all this meaningless worrying over unimportant issues! All that matters is the war, and nothing else, do you hear me, Boromir?” Denethor barked.

They had been fighting and arguing ever since Boromir had come home. His diplomatic mission had been a success, and the Steward had congratulated him, but it was domestic politics that set their relationship ablaze. Father and son had different views on the same issues and sparks were flying in all directions.

“In fact, I don’t need anyone to question my authority and make me look bad in front of the subjects! You are not yet the Steward, Boromir – you will rule as you see fit when you are, but until then… I want you to take an indefinite leave and join your brother in Ithilien. You will not be there on vacation, son, believe me. You will give me reports on Imrahil’s moves and plans and keep an eye on that no good brother of yours. Now go and get ready, and be on your way at dawn!”

Boromir was used to his father’s distant treatment and lack of consideration, but this time he was even glad to see nothing had changed. It meant that his shame couldn’t be read on his face, not even by someone as cunning and perceptive as his father. But he had to struggle really hard to keep ecstasy away from his features upon learning that he and Faramir would have time to spend together. So he bowed respectfully and left the throne room at once already planning what to pack and what to bring Faramir to pleasantly surprise him.

His favorite book in Elvish maybe? His flute? Some apricot jam? Boromir thought of all this and figured he could take all of those items and still it would not be enough to compensate for all his little brother had given and shown him. Complete love and trust, and comfort when he had needed it.

He spent a restless night trying to picture their reunion, his anxiety reaching disturbing peaks. The truth was he had one great reason for joy and held it dear, not wanting to let himself be haunted by the dreadful memories which he had so carefully bottled up.

The next day he got his horse ready and packed his gear on, leaving before Minas Tirith awoke.

It was a lonely, dull ride to Ithilien, but Boromir had time to sort his feelings and think about his fears. He would conquer them all for the sake of seeing his brother look at him with awe and trust. He would face his feelings, which he had kept under wraps so well, and take anything Faramir intended to give him. And Boromir could only hope the feeling of disgust against himself would lessen so that he would be able to tell his brother how he loved him and mean it with all his being.

Chapter 6

In Henneth Annûn, Boromir was greeted by Mablung. Although he knew the ranger to be a man of few words, he noticed Mablung was only speaking when spoken to or when etiquette required it, his eyes never rising to meet Boromir’s own.

After exchanging a report and the new orders from Minas Tirith, the two men stood at the entrance of the cave, where the roar of the falls granted them the possibility to speak undisturbed. Boromir placed a hand on the older man’s shoulder and asked as gently as he could:

“What is it, dear friend? Why will you not look at me? You know you can always speak to me, because although I am not my perceptive father or little brother, even I can sense now that something is wrong. It has been so ever since I got here.”

“Boromir, you asked earlier where Faramir was and the rangers said he was away. I am afraid he is away in more than one sense.” Mablung spoke with difficulty.

“W-what happened?” Boromir stammered. He had thought his little brother was merely out on patrol. “What do you mean by that? Where is Faramir? Don’t be cryptic and don’t spare me, I want the truth!” He almost shouted, his whole body beginning to shake with the chilling thought that something terrible had come upon his little brother.

“He was… wounded by orcs. They were more numerous and fiercer than usual and Faramir insisted that we should exterminate the whole band. He took two poisoned arrows and although it was a common poison, he didn’t recover from the treatment I gave him… So I had him sent to Dol Amroth, hoping Imrahil will know a better way to cure him. I’m so sorry it happened like this… He kept calling for you in his feverish dreams.” Mablung blurted out in one breath, still not daring to look the Steward’s son in the eyes.

“It’s not your fault, Mablung. I know Faramir tends to be reckless at times, especially when he is here in Ithilien, because he feels unnecessary bravery will bring him father’s admiration… I understand that all too well, but you should not blame yourself. Still, I need to ride out again at once. I will leave you to lead the men as you did so far. I must see Faramir, and I would be grateful if father were not to learn of this.”

Mablung simply nodded and said:

“Go, Boromir, hurry.”

Boromir mounted without further discussion and rode his steed into exhaustion, stopping only when it was impossible to carry on. He let the horse rest then rode on again, until he reached Dol Amroth.

Bursting in Imrahil’s main hall, he roared:

“Faramir! I want to see Faramir, now!”

His chest was heaving, his eyes were filled with tears caused by the dust the fast riding had risen, and his body could go on no more, but he needed to make sure his brother knew he had come for him.

Imrahil stood up and abandoned the dinner table, nodding softly and saying:

“Follow me.”

He led Boromir up a flight of stairs, down some halls and finally into his private wing, to the bright, clean room Faramir was resting in.

“Stay with him, save him.” Imrahil softly spoke. Boromir knew the prince of Dol Amroth loved his brother dearly, maybe more than he loved him, but he had never envied that.

Imrahil touched his arm lightly.

“If you need anything, there is a guard at the end of the hall. I will have dinner sent up, and fresh bandages and cloths.”

Boromir nodded and left the prince outside, entering the room alone and with his eyes closed, praying that his little brother would not be in as poor a state as he feared.

Opening his eyes, he saw Faramir lying on the wide bed, apparently sleeping. His upper body shone against the dark-colored sheets and blankets, in which he was thoroughly tucked. The little one’s hair was mussed and matted from sweat, and only his faintly fluttering eyelids led Boromir to believe he was still alive. Faramir’s face, normally fair beyond what was common for men in Gondor, was now ashen with a slight hue of green.

Boromir nearly ran over to the bed and stopped himself from jumping onto it, afraid to disturb his brother’s rest. But he had to check, to make sure his little one was coming back to him, that he heard his beckoning to return to the world of the living.

He took off his travel clothes and, once he was left in his leggings and shirt, he sat down near Faramir, leaning in to kiss his cold brow tenderly and to remove a few locks of clingy, damp hair.

“Faramir, love, I’m here now. I came to take care of you. Please return to me, I know you can hear me…Please… It kills me to see you thus.” He whispered against his younger brother’s temple.

Faramir stirred slightly and made the smallest move to burrow into Boromir’s warmth…but Boromir stroked him lovingly and moved away, going to the adjacent bathing room, where he bathed himself and slipped into clean clothes before joining his brother in bed.

First he lifted the covers to look at the wounds and saw that Faramir wore nothing besides a small loincloth, as towels had been placed beneath him on the bed and wet dressings covered his torso in an attempt to drain out the fever. Removing the damp cloths, Boromir saw the wounds, one near the shoulder on the left side and one between the ribs on the right side. The wounds had been cauterized with a hot blade, and in that, Denethor’s first born recognized Mablung’s inspired hand. It must have been the same Ranger who had sucked out the most of the poison and disinfected the wounds with rye alcohol, which every ranger carried with him at all time.

He shivered at the thought of how much pain Faramir had had to endure and how much pain he was still in. He left his brother’s side only to look in his pack and retrieve the healing salve Mithrandir had given him. Opening the small jar, he smeared generous amounts of it on both wounds, lingering over each dent just to make sure. He found himself strangely thrilled by the fact he could take care of his brother and heal him in this manner. To some extent, being able to soothe his brother’s pain was restoring his self-confidence, the one that Théodred had so brutally shattered.

Boromir replaced the cloths with clean ones, previously dipped in cold water, and wrapped Faramir tightly in a soft warm blanket. It was only when Faramir nestled back into deep sleep, curling himself around Boromir’s body, that he allowed his own exhaustion to take over and push him into slumber as well.

---

Days passed by, but Boromir could not tell. He only focused on his brother and guessing his needs, helping him in every way he could, watching over him and holding him in his healing sleep. He saw a slight improvement, his brother’s skin having ceased to be clammy and the soft delirious whispers having disappeared as well. Slowly, Faramir was coming back to him, and all this time he spoke to him softly and caressed him everywhere he could reach, his hands lovingly mapping every exposed inch of his brother’s body, relaxing all the stiff muscles. Not once did he experience un-brotherly thoughts, although his heart resounded with compassion for his little one, every time he ran his palms over faintly twitching muscles and cold thighs.

Faramir had lost a lot of weight since he had fallen ill. Boromir noticed that while he carried his little brother to the bathing room and lowered him carefully into the tub to give him a bath, acting as if Faramir was sleeping, not unconscious.

Then one day, not too long after Boromir began to tend to him, Faramir awoke, and the first thing he did was smile up at his brother who was bent over him, smearing salve over his wounds.

Boromir’s heart skipped a few consecutive beats and he felt like someone had lifted him up from his skin and flew with him high into the sky. He smiled back and reached up to caress his little one’s face.

“Faramir!” He exclaimed, the name bearing all his joy.

The younger man’s mouth formed the word “Boromir!” but it came out soundlessly, and Faramir had to lick and bite at his chapped lips to be able to finally say:

”Boromir!” The word was accompanied by another heart-melting smile. “I had lost hope we’d ever meet! I wanted to die in a dignified way so father would at least respect me a bit after that…”

“If you weren’t so ill and frail already, I’d smack your cheeky bottom for that! Do you have any idea what I’ve been through all this time seeing you almost gone? I began to die inside!” Boromir whispered, trying to hold back tears.

He leaned in and hugged Faramir tightly, saying:

“Don’t ever do anything like that! You’ll kill me before you die yourself! I love you so much, my Faramir!”

My Faramir, not little brother, Faramir noted, in the same instant feeling a hot drop on his neck, realizing Boromir was now shaking with silent tears.

And it dawned on him then: who needed Denethor’s approval when they were loved by the best man ever to have walked Arda?

“Bori, I was so afraid…” He spoke after a while. “I was so afraid the orcs would catch me, so I jumped in front of the arrows. I know what they do to their prisoners and… I never would have been able to hold my promise to you.”

Boromir raised green eyes blurry with tears to look at him in reproach.

“And you prefer yourself dead than loved by me?”

Another truth dropped on Faramir with the weight of his brother’s suffering. It wasn’t just about him… Boromir loved him no matter what, but most of all he wanted him alive and by his side.

“I’m so sorry, Bori. I’ll never put us through this again…” He promised.

“You’d better stick to that, beloved. I am not man enough for another blow like this.” Boromir said.

“Boromir?”

“Yes?”

“I’m hungry…”

Boromir made to get up and fetch some fruit from the table, but Faramir’s thin hand rested on his arm.

“… hungry for you.” The words were spoken so softly that Boromir thought they were uttered only inside his head. But his brother’s lean arms caught him and drew him nearer, and he felt like he was born a second time when Faramir took his mouth.

“Wait, little one… we cannot…not like this…” Boromir said, the few words costing him every ounce of self-control. Although it was done quite innocently, his mouth was ravished by Faramir. He wanted his brother like he wanted his next breath, he had felt so since he had noticed Faramir had switched from cute to gorgeous a few years before…

But they had to keep the secret from everyone.

“Imrahil…he’ll find us.” Boromir objected as his brother began to suck at a surprisingly sensitive patch of skin on the side of his neck.

“He knows… he’s seen it somehow. Or felt it, I cannot be sure.” Faramir purred.

“No, I say.” Boromir moved away. It still did not feel right… He did not feel safe, and the fact their uncle knew he desired his brother and him alone was unsettling. He had waited so long…he would wait some more… until the end of time if he had to, but nothing and no one would come between him and Faramir.

“But…Bori… I want…” Faramir began, his lower lip projecting outward into a pout.

A loving palm came to rest on his lips.

“Now we rest, little brother. Then we tell everybody you have been returned to us.” Boromir said, then, at the sight of his brother’s pain-filled eyes, he added impishly: “Then we ride to Henneth Annûn. Alone.” His groin stirred in anticipation and contentment and Faramir’s hips made the smallest instinctive movement to rise and meet his.

“Soon, little brother…” Boromir purred.

He kept stroking Faramir’s face and then turned him around, cradling him against his chest, caressing his arms and chest until they both fell into a restful sleep.

Chapter 7

Imrahil was extremely happy to see his favorite nephew standing on his own again, and answering him with the same adorable cheekiness that had endeared Faramir to him in the first place. He had no way of knowing first-hand how much of himself Faramir had to censor at home, back in Gondor, because all Imrahil had seen was a happy, playful young boy who was intent on becoming a great man, with the best gifts from the elven and human races as his inheritance.

There was even a small party to celebrate Faramir’s recovery, and Faramir danced gracefully with all the maidens who asked that of him, leaving Boromir in their uncle’s company.

Sitting in the shadows of the main hall, Imrahil and Boromir drank ale together and talked of politics. At some point though Imrahil’s face changed and his tone sweetened, as he said:

“I love you both very much, and I place great hopes in Faramir. For some reason, I feel protective of him…maybe it is because he is so much like Finduilas. But he has grown up wonderfully, although I know very well Denethor did not take good care of his second son… No offence is intended, Boromir. I love Faramir, a great deal. And I know you do too. So I hope you will take good care of him. When he comes to you, be gentle and use this…” He trailed off but reached into a fold of his robe and drew out a small vial.

In the dim light of the candles, Boromir saw Imrahil was not jesting. He reached up and took the vial, but he remained dumbfounded.

“What do you mean by this, uncle? I have never…” He began.

“But you must” Imrahil’s hand closed over his hand which held the vial. “It is not uncommon in our family… and Faramir’s entire love and trust are placed in you. I know I may sound like an old fool and you most likely do not believe me, but listen to your heart, and look in your little brother’s eyes should you need further confirmation.”

Boromir’s mood darkened instantly.

“Am I that obvious in my desire?” He asked.

Imrahil smiled.

“You show nothing, and that worried me at first. But Faramir spoke of you in his fever-plagued dreams. And it was how he spoke that told more tales than the actual words… But fear not, it is not my place to interfere in people’s private choices or in the politics of other realms.” Imrahil concluded with a knowing smile.

Boromir didn’t feel much more assured. He felt pressured instead, and for the first time got a taste of what it was like to walk in Faramir’s shoes. To have no clue or help on how to carry out your tasks, but having to perform perfectly nonetheless.

---

They left Dol Amroth in the morning of the following day, riding slowly as Faramir was still weakened by the days of inactivity and his wounds. He was doing his best to sit up straight and not slouch in his saddle, and Boromir kept a worried eye on him at all times.

Although Faramir resisted heroically and managed to hide his growing discomfort, Boromir saw his skin color fade into an unhealthy shade of white, so after seven hours of riding without stopping, he steered the horses to some nearby caves he knew very well. They had to leave the horses at the foot of the rocks and follow the short narrow path on foot, Faramir walking in front of his brother, who carried most of their things.

Once in the cave, Faramir looked around. It was a miniature reproduction of Henneth Annûn, the entrance hidden by a small cascading creek and with a hole in the roof so that the sky could be seen. It was lovely. Crickets sang their evening tune and the horses were huffing softly, getting ready for sleep, sheltered by the trees and bushes.

They unwrapped their bedrolls not very far from the cave entrance and Boromir made sure Faramir was tucked into a blanket before he went out to gather wood for the fire. He also managed to catch two rabbits, which he skinned swiftly and turned them into a nutritious supper.

The rabbits were cooking over the fire when Boromir finally sat near his brother’s small form, draping an arm around him and caressing him absentmindedly. They both stared at the fire for a while, then they ate, Boromir insisting on hand-feeding Faramir the best pieces of the meat, carefully de-boned and cut.

“I am not that hungry, brother. We should share all this… I have not eaten so profusely in a long time, so I do not think my stomach can accommodate all this food. Do not fuss over me so much, I do not deserve all this pampering.” Came Faramir’s weak protest.

They finished the meal with apples and honeyed wine, drinking in silent reflection.

“But you do deserve it! If it were in my power, I would take you to a new realm and build you a castle, making you my mate and ruling it for all time with you by my side… But I am only the Steward’s son and I’m trying to work with what we have. I wish we could disappear someplace and be together without anyone ever hearing of us again.” Boromir let it out.

“I’m grateful you summoned me back from where I had gone. For now I see we both need each other to an equal extent. Come here, Boromir…” Faramir beckoned and Boromir moved so he could bury his face in his brother’s fragrant hair, while Faramir stroked his back and arms soothingly.

Now he knew that Boromir had not really got over what Théodred had done to him, that it was all a front and nothing more, but a front which cost his brother too much energy to be able to keep it up even for his little brother. And Faramir was grateful for that too. He had been selfish to think it was Boromir’s fault they did not become lovers sooner, since it was already clear it was what they both wanted. But now he also saw that not all wounds had closed. It was as if they were two men drifting on a sea, each holding on to his raft until they got to calmer waters, in which they could swim to reach each other.

“I want my brother back. Reach for me, Boromir… We have no one but each other in this life, and I will give you as much comfort as you need, when you need it. We do not have to do anything besides what we feel comfortable with. Love will always be love, and I place all of mine upon you.” Faramir spoke softly, remembering a scene from their distant childhood and smiling softly at the memory.

There was so much softness and kindness radiating from his little brother at the time that Boromir had to burrow closer, to try and capture some of it and let it fill him. They sat like that, Boromir embracing Faramir as they nuzzled each other’s faces tenderly, until eventually Boromir’s lips touched the smooth skin of his brother’s cheek. Never had he sampled such a deliciously textured skin. Not even the few elves he had pecked out of etiquette reasons at ballroom events had had such perfect skin. He raised his hand to caress the other cheek and decided to finally go for the real treat, Faramir’s lips, which opened for him at once.

They had shared kisses before, but none of them had been so meaningful. While they kissed, they held each other, the caresses flowing over each accessible part of the other’s body. They inhaled each other’s subtle smell and nuzzled soft hair until they both lost track of time… and place. The same lilting, seductive tune resounded in both their minds and their gazes connected profoundly, so that when Boromir moved to begin removing his layers of clothing, Faramir did the same automatically, unaware of his own actions since he was absorbed in his brother’s lit up countenance.

They took everything off in the end and Boromir fumbled in his pack for the vial his uncle had given him, putting it somewhere within easy reach before lying down next to his brother. For a few moments they just looked at their shimmering bodies, with their muscles and scars accentuated by the light of the fire and by the moonlight coming from above.

Boromir’s hands began to map his brother’s body, taking notes on which places were soft, which were hard to the touch and which were keys to making the little one gasp and mewl. He knew very well just how sensitive his brother’s skin was everywhere, as Faramir was at the age when a mere featherlike touch could ignite him. His own was not as responsive as his brother’s, as the sensitivity faded with aging, but Faramir’s innocent fumbling managed to set him ablaze anyway.

He gasped when Faramir raked his fingernails down his chest, dragging them back up to tease the hardening nubs, right before he reached up to lick at one of them while the fingers on one hand were playing with the other. Boromir was by now cursing softly under his breath and pushing his hardness against Faramir’s, his arms and knees threatening to give in at any moment.

“Make me yours tonight, Boromir, please. You will not hurt me.” Faramir spoke softly in between pressing kisses to his brother’s neck and jawline.

Boromir’s eyes filled with tears but they did not spill, as the moment was so perfect and somewhat sad, that his entire body wished to remain on the brink of emotional storm just to embed it in its memory. All he could do was nod, not trusting his voice at that time.

He could feel wetness, his and Faramir’s, trickling on their bellies and thighs and he knew he could not let his little brother down this time. He had turned back one too many times… He reached for the vial and uncapped it, carefully sniffing the content. It smelled floral and sweet and it had an oily consistency, which made him guess exactly what it was meant for. Reassured, he returned to worshipping Faramir’s body as skillfully as his imagination allowed him, until Faramir’s body began to tremble and his arousal began to leak profusely, smearing the little one’s belly with the evidence of his eagerness. Boromir kissed his way down to the wet patch of skin and licked it dry, blowing over it, marveling at his brother’s clean scent and taste, nuzzling the sparse curls below, straying to lick at the thin skin over a protruding hipbone, tracing the sensitive ply where the leg met the hip and experimentally licking along the engorged length he found twitching against his brother’s belly.

His lengthy exploration earned him a beautiful moan from Faramir, who arched up to meet his attentions, grabbing mindlessly at the bedroll.

Boromir kissed his brother’s soft milky thighs to make them shiver and part further, thus allowing him between them. Slipping his hands beneath his brother’s almost bony backside, he lifted it effortlessly and settled there, on his knees, holding his brother’s hips in his lap and reaching down to collect Faramir’s upper body in a loving embrace, careful of his still healing arrow wounds. He looked into Faramir’s eyes, and saw them swimming in unshed tears, reflecting his own and full of … love. If he had had to reach out and point at love in order to describe it, he would have kissed his brother’s eyes. He needed no further understanding of the concept aside from what spoke to him loud and crystal clear in Faramir’s eyes.

He moved his little brother’s arms around his neck, placing them to rest on his shoulders, and their foreheads connected. They were both absorbed in breathtaking and dizzying kisses, but Boromir’s hands reached behind Faramir to slick themselves with oil and to gently descend into the small cleft at the base of the little one’s spine.

When Boromir finally touched his brother in that secret place, he felt like a thief stealing a holy relic from a shrine. But punishment never came, instead of it Faramir moaned long and wantonly, shifting a bit to encourage the circling finger. It slipped inside easily, and Boromir took his time exploring until he felt Faramir tense and curse obscenely under his breath.

“Have I hurt you, my lovely one?” Boromir asked, without removing his finger which was deep inside his brother’s blessed warmth.

“Nay… you’ve touched…oh, gods, do it again!” Faramir said and his brother obliged, seizing the moment to withdraw and to insert another finger, now massaging the spot Faramir had indicated with built-up efforts. His own length felt like it would burst apart and Boromir feared he would actually bleed when he came, but he was determined to make it as painless as possible for his adored brother.

“Boromir, for Eru’s sake, do it now before this kills me!” Faramir pleaded.

All Boromir had to do was to shift his hips just a little, so that the head of his shaft rested flush against Faramir’s opening. He stroked it a few times with an oil-slick hand and then just held himself in place, nodding to his brother and kissing him as he felt Faramir begin to sink down on him.

And then he was sucked into this time outside of time, into that world he had dreamed of, where there were no rules and ancient laws, just Faramir and him, blissfully entwined and never to be separated. Faramir’s body felt heavenly to say the least, everything was hot and slick and Boromir could think and see little besides the wonderful being he so tenderly cradled against him. He drew him even closer, so that their chests touched and Faramir’s chin rested on his left shoulder, then he gave in to his body’s need and moved tentatively.

His brother’s body went limp and pliant in his embrace and every thrust he made was bolder, deeper, both their bodies shaking from the intensity of the sensations, as their chests rubbed against each other, Boromir’s length slid easily in and out of his brother’s body and Faramir’s hardness was pressed between their sweaty, moving torsos, smearing fluid all over their bellies. Boromir’s hands moved on Faramir’s back, mapping the bones which stuck out, the muscles which tensed under the smooth skin and he knew he had to…

He had to bow his head and suckle at one of Faramir’s nipples and nibble at his throat tendons, and for that he pushed Faramir down, slowly and careful not to hurt him or his own tense member, which was now bent in an unusual angle. He let their bodies readjust in their new position and resumed his hypnotic pace. This way he could look at Faramir, kiss him, bite him, mark him, whisper against his lips and worship him freely, while his little brother was as comfortable as their current predicament allowed.

Seeing Faramir give in to his pleasure was mind-blowing, and Boromir felt his little brother’s body contract around his shaft, tightly enough to make him feel like he was being smothered. If it was going to kill him, then so be it, he thought, raising his eyes to the stars visible through the hole in the rock above them. He would gladly die like this, and remain forever locked in the wonderful world his brother and he had created, just for the two of them.

But no obliterating end came. Although Boromir felt like pleasure was drowning him, making him scream for Faramir, the sight and feel of his brother’s very soul entwined with his filled him with serenity and calm, feelings so powerful that they immediately took over his mind and heart, settling into these places to keep him afloat through dark hours. True to his promise, Faramir had managed to take all his pain away, giving him strength and confidence to look forward, towards the future, instead of brooding over the past.

When his eyes were able to focus again, he looked at his brother’s smiling face and moved to shower it with kisses before asking:

“What is on your mind now, love?”

He was actually surprised that Faramir could form coherent images and thoughts at a time when his own name was just slowly coming back to him.

“A memory from our childhood has haunted me the whole evening… and now it feels that we’ve completed the rite.” Faramir hesitantly spoke, his voice affected by little tremors of echoing pleasure.

“Share this with me, brother…lover.” Boromir said.

“I remember being five, and very eager to please you because you were more present in my little world than mother or father… I remember you dressing me up in a curtain and naming me your bride that day, carrying me around in that makeshift gown and braiding flowers in my hair… I remember you speaking a vow in my presence under the White Tree… I remember your hands tickling me until you made me say ‘I do’. And Boromir…”

The day Faramir had remembered had come back to Boromir as well, making him feel more conflicted and torn inside than ever before.

“Yes, my love?”

“I remember meaning the words. I’ve been yours since then.” Faramir had to speak looking at the stars above them.

Boromir was not yet strong enough to leave his brother’s body, and he hardened back painfully upon hearing Faramir say:

“To you, I will always be your bride. To all other men I will be Captain and leader. Wherever I go, I shall carry a part of you with me, in me, and no other shall have my love.”

“Gods,“ Boromir gasped as the maddening heat around him became agonizingly tight as well. “I cannot give you anything else but myself, but I give myself whole and for all time.”

Faramir smiled in sheer contentment, his face beaming as he concluded: “We are now joined until the world’s end, and I will go anywhere with you, whether you are over the hills and far away or right here in my arms.”

END!

NB: Please do not distribute (by any means, including email) or repost this story (including translations) without the author's prior permission. [ more ]

Enjoyed this story? Then be sure to let the author know by posting a comment at https://www.faramirfiction.com/fiction/anywhere-with-you. Positive feedback is what keeps authors writing more stories!