Faramir Fiction Archive

Call Me Aragorn (NC-17)

Written by Sunshine

28 April 2004 | 1575 words

Author's Note: Contains spanking and slash. Please don't read if this offends you. Feedback is always appreciated.
Disclaimer: Tolkien owns all
Warning: m/m spanking (hand and brush), slash
Characters: Faramir, Aragorn

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Aragorn stood silently at the door to Faramir's room, watching as his Steward stood on the stone balcony, staring out at the dark night sky. Although he had been healed, Aragorn could tell that Faramir was still not at his best; his sagging posture spoke of his tiredness.

"You should be resting still," Aragorn commented, bringing Faramir out of his thoughts. "You have yet to be fully healed."

Faramir spun around quickly when he heard the voice. Recognizing his new king, he relaxed, but bowed and spoke quietly. "I am healed enough, sire," Faramir said.

"Call me Aragorn," he said with a smile, but Faramir shook his head, looking shocked.

"I could never, sire. Such is not my place," he explained hurriedly, noticing the frown that shadowed Aragorn's face. "You are my king, and I must refer to you as such. I am just your Steward, who must obey your command."

Aragorn straightened his back and looked his Steward in the eye. "Well then, is there naught I could do to change your mind on this matter?"

"No, sire, there is not," Faramir stood a little straighter with this declaration, proving himself to be every bit as stubborn as his mother had been.

"Are you sure of this?"

"Yes, sire."

An odd gleam came into Aragorn's eyes. "And if I were willing to attempt to prove you wrong?"

Faramir watched warily as his king approached him. "Then I would let you attempt, but I must warn you that you would not succeed."

"We shall see about that. Now, come with me," Aragorn beckoned, leading the Steward towards his bedchamber. Faramir noted wryly that he could hardly object, what with his hand being held so tightly in Aragorn's own.

The two men stopped at Faramir's bed.

"Sire?" Faramir asked hesitantly, confused.

Aragorn didn't answer, only sat down on the bed and pulled Faramir to his side. Looking into his Steward's grey eyes, he spoke.

"Would a spanking change your mind, Faramir?"

Faramir, for a moment, couldn't answer. He spluttered, shocked at the king's words. Aragorn smirked good-naturedly, trying not to laugh at Faramir's astonishment. Not wanting to wait until Faramir regained his senses and tried to flee, Aragorn pulled the younger man down over his lap. Immediately Faramir began to struggle.

"Stop, release me please. I beg of you sire, let me go!"

Again, Aragorn didn't answer. He was too busy trying to keep a hold of the struggling Steward. Using his elven-quick reflexes, Aragorn grabbed Faramir's wrists and held them tightly against the young man's small back. He used his free hand to tug down Faramir's dark green leggings. The young man let out a whimper of protest as he felt the cool night air rush along his bare backside.

"Once last chance, Faramir," Aragorn said, running his strong hand softly along the Steward's pale buttocks. "What shall you call me?"

But Faramir, despite his completely humiliating and compromising situation, gritted his teeth and answered truthfully. "You are my king, sire."

"Very well." And with that, Aragorn raised his hand and brought it down smartly upon Faramir's unprotected backside. He paused for a minute, waiting for a reaction, but when he didn't get one, he simply raised his hand and let it fall again even harder. This time his sharp hearing picked up the faintest gasp. Glad that he was able to make an impression on Faramir, Aragorn began spanking in earnest. SMACK!!! SMACK!!! SMACK!!! There was no pattern to it; Aragorn spanked everywhere and alternated between medium and super hard smacks. First he focused on the center of the Steward's arse, then he moved downwards towards the crease and the tops of his pale thighs, before moving upwards again. When Faramir's backside had turned a light shade of red, and the king's own hand was smarting, Aragorn decided to give Faramir a chance to end the punishment.

"What is my name, Faramir?" Aragorn asked calmly.

Releasing the lip that Faramir had been holding tightly between his teeth, he ground out his answer.

"King Elessar, sire."

"Hmm. I see that it takes a little more to sway you, my dear Steward," Aragorn commented as he stilled his hand. Faramir could hear rustling in the doors beside the bed, where he kept his bedclothes and other useful items. Although worried about what was to come next, the young man took a deep breath, pleased for the breather. Suddenly he yelped and his whole body jumped as a sharp pain spread through his already aching backside.

Aragorn nodded with satisfaction at Faramir's reaction, and the deep red mark on his backside, before bringing the hairbrush back down again. A strangled sob escaped his throat and Faramir, ashamed, struggled to keep control of his emotions.

"Let it out, Faramir," the dark-haired man crooned softly.

"No!" Faramir nearly sobbed at the pain, his grey eyes filled with tears.

"Your stubbornness is costing you dearly," Aragorn sighed. Wanting the punishment to end, he brought the hairbrush down smack in the middle of Faramir's buttocks, overtop of two deep red splotches. With a heart-wrenching scream, Faramir burst into tears.

"Aragorn, stop! Please!" he sobbed, lying limply over the ranger's lap.

"So, it takes a sound spanking for you to be able to call me Aragorn, does it?" he asked with a smirk, laying down the hairbrush. Gently, he stroked the Steward's hair and back, his careful ministrations working their way closer and closer to the swollen red backside.

"I do not mean to tease Faramir," Aragorn said. "I only wished to teach you that you are a valuable person to me, a friend. A friend, admittedly, who could do with a little less stubbornness."

"You have a funny way of showing it," Faramir complained, his tone petulant. But Aragorn heard the smile in his voice. The king helped his Steward up off of his lap, steadying the young man. It was then that Aragorn caught sight of the Steward's weeping erection.

Faramir hung his head in shame, certain that his king would shove him to the floor in disgust, but Aragorn did no such thing. Instead he reached for the swollen organ and squeezed it gently. Moaning at the sensation, Faramir shoved his hips forward, yearning to feel it again. He flushed in embarrassment, but Aragorn smiled and began to pump his fist up and down the leaking hardness, gradually getting faster and faster. The Steward kept his eyes firmly shut, not wanting to betray his feelings or let the king see how much he was enjoying the ministrations.

"Open your eyes," Aragorn commanded softly. "Do not be embarrassed. I want you to enjoy this. Please, open your eyes Faramir."

Startled by the king's honesty and genuine desire to pleasure him, the Steward, Faramir opened his eyes, his gaze immediately caught by the king's own.

Aragorn placed his fingers on Faramir's soft lips and, without thinking, Faramir opened his mouth and took them into his mouth. He sucked on them for a moment, wetting them, before Aragorn withdrew them. Faramir had only a moment to think about what the king was planning to do with them before he felt his buttocks gently being spread and a fingertip circling the entrance to his body. His whole body jerked upwards in surprise, but Aragorn held him still.

"Trust me," he whispered, pushing the finger in all the way in one slow thrust. Faramir gritted his teeth, feeling a burn not only on the outside of his bottom, but also on the inside. Aragorn dragged the finger out a little bit, before pushing it back into the hot passage. A small whimper escaped the Steward's throat at the pain.

"Trust me Faramir," Aragorn whispered again and, sure enough, the pain began to slowly subside. Aragorn added a second finger, stretching the anal muscles as carefully as he could. This time the pain subsided faster, and Faramir began to enjoy the motion. Still pumping the Steward's cock, the king curled the two fingers inside the fair-haired man's body, pushing against his prostate. The effect was instantaneous. Faramir cried out loudly in pleasure and came hard. Aragorn held him as the aftershocks moved through the Steward's tired body. Carefully, so as not to hurt Faramir or his well-spanked bottom, Aragorn removed his fingers.

He captured his Steward's lips in a gentle kiss before hugging him tightly. Faramir, first rigid, slowly relaxed into the comforting grasp. Aragorn looked his new friend sternly in the eye.

"Anymore such foolishness, my Steward," Aragorn said with a smile, "Will earn you yet another trip over my knee. Is this understood?"

"Yes, sire," Faramir said demurely, thinking that perhaps another spanking was not such a bad idea if it meant another wonderful orgasm. Aragorn raised his hand and gave the fair-haired Steward a quick, but sound, smack on his backside. Faramir yelped.

"I mean yes… Aragorn."

Aragorn smiled. "I may be your king, but I am first and foremost your friend, Faramir. Remember that."

With that, he placed Faramir face-down on the bed and laid down beside him. Without hesitation Faramir lifted his fair head and placed it on Aragorn's chest, nuzzling into the king's shirt. Aragorn smiled at his Steward and the two soon fell asleep.

The End

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