Faramir Fiction Archive

Death Long Suffered (NC-17)

Written by Alcardilmë

09 December 2009 | 33441 words

Chapter Twenty-Two – At What Cost

“You look as sweet as a babe, with that little, pouting face.” Boromir kissed his little brother again, this time on the forehead. “If I touch you further, I will not be—Mmmph!”

Faramir pulled him down and attacked his brother’s mouth, laving his tongue over Boromir’s lips, his teeth, his tongue, delving as deeply as possible. Not until he needed a breath did he leave off the assault. “I think this is not a babe who touches you!”

“Faramir.” Boromir’s body sang. “You must… rest… I cannot… Oh Faramir,” he moaned as Faramir’s hand closed over his crotch.

“You are taking the second watch. We have not much time left. No time for rest. No time for sleep, dear brother.”

Boromir wondered that Faramir had the breath to speak, he himself unable to think, let alone sleep. He pushed Faramir away. “We have six hours!”

“Not enough time.” Faramir attacked Boromir’s mouth again and effectively stilled any further comments. When at last he broke the kiss, he leaned back on the cushions that covered the camp cot. “It is a little tight here.” He loosened the laces on his leggings. “Mayhap we should move all these.” He motioned with a smile to the myriad pillows strewn about.

Boromir nodded and helped move the cushions to the floor.

Faramir lay back on them and watched him. “I think it time we consummated our love.”

Not only his cock, but Boromir’s whole body responded to the lust in Faramir’s voice. He had all he could do not to shiver violently. He slowly pulled his tunic off, then kicked off his boots. He tore his under shirt in two, buttons¹ flying, and thrown aside. As slowly as possible, he unlaced his leggings, letting them fall about his hips. His cock, straight and full, stood up proudly amongst the dusting of short hair.

Faramir moved from the cushions, knelt in front of his brother, and pulled Boromir’s leggings down.

Boromir laid his hand upon Faramir’s head and stepped out of the riding breeches. He did not let go, once he was naked, just gently held his brother’s head. “You should be resting,” he whimpered.

Faramir moved forward and licked Boromir’s member.

The Captain of Gondor groaned.

“Sh, Boromir. I cannot rest with that noise.”

“Faramir… please… you must… rest.” Fearing for his brother’s health, Boromir tried to pull back. “You were done in before we even finished sparring, not an hour past. Oh Valar!”

Faramir’s tongue ran up and down his brother’s shaft, while his hand gently cradled his balls. “You taste sweet, Boromir. I would not have thought it.” He licked at the cum that started to leak from his brother’s cock. “Oh, you taste good.”

Boromir moaned. “Faramir… Faramir… Faramir…” His breath came in gasps.

Faramir looked up at him. “I love you, Boromir. I know no better way to show it. After this, when I finish, I will expect the same. If you love me.”

Tears filled Boromir’s eyes and spilled over. “I do love you, Faramir.” He swallowed tightly. “I always have.”

“I know,” Faramir whispered gently, then swore. “Balrog’s breath! Where did I put it?”

He moved around the cushions, pushing them hither and thither.

“Please, Faramir. I order you to rest.” Frustration ran rampant in his voice.

“Ah, here it is.” Faramir held up a small vial. “Mablung’s wife sent this.”

“What! Mablung’s wife?” Boromir’s face flamed. “Mablung’s wife?”

“Nice woman, is she not?” Faramir grabbed Boromir’s ankle and pulled him back onto the cushions. “Please stay still, Boromir. I have not the strength to wrestle with you.” His smile belied the plea for mercy. And then he took Boromir into his mouth.

His brother shrieked as Faramir’s teeth scraped down his cock. “What… What are you doing?”

“Just making sure you realize, if you move wrongly, I might slip.” Faramir chuckled, his mouth full, and the sensation caused Boromir to scream again.

“I will… stay still,” he moaned.

“Thank you. Now, how does this feel?” He touched Boromir’s anus and almost lost the cock deeply entrenched in his mouth as Boromir shrieked and bucked. “Valar, Boromir. Father will hear you if you continue thus. And I have barely started. Stop your caterwauling!²“

Boromir shuddered.

“You like this? Good.” He plunged an oil-slicked finger into Boromir and held on tightly as his brother bucked three or four times. Pleased as he was by Boromir’s reaction, he lost count. “Hold still, Boromir. Just a little longer.” Another digit joined the first. And then another.

Boromir writhed. “Faramir.” He swallowed hard. “Oh, Faramir.” The gentle caressing voice turned into another shriek as Faramir’s long fingers stroked his prostate. Boromir’s arcing body threw Faramir off him. He grabbed his brother’s arms and pushed him against the gaudy Haradric cushions. “You toy with me,” he gulped. “I can endure this no longer.”

Boromir took the vial from the floor and dumped a large quantity of oil on his hand, then thrust three fingers inside Faramir, scissoring quickly. “I would have taken you slowly,” he sobbed.

“I do not want it slow, Boromir,” Faramir whispered. “I want it hard, like you. I want you deep within me. I do not want to think. I want to feel. Do it now, Boromir.”

The elder brother pulled his fingers out, weeping openly, and took his shaft in hand, thrusting it deeply into Faramir’s opening. Thrusting once, twice, he wailed. “It should not be like this,”

“Yes. It must. He thrust hard, Boromir. You must thrust harder. You must take me and wipe away all remembrance of him. Please, Boromir. I am sorry.”

Boromir stilled and wept bitterly. His chin shook as his teeth clenched against muffled sobs. “I finally understand. I will take you hard, Faramir. Your body will not remember him, I promise. And later perhaps, I might take you as I had wished. Gently. And in love.”

“You do this in love, Boromir. Be not afraid for me.”

Boromir took a deep breath, then thrust until his mind clouded and all he knew or felt was his brother’s tight crevice, the muscle throbbing against him, clenching him until his seed filled Faramir, and then, Boromir of Gondor lost all thought.

“Boromir?” Faramir called after Boromir spilled. “Boromir.” Fear took his heart. “What have I done? Asked beyond his endurance? Boromir, oh Boromir, please wake.” He stroked his brother’s cheek, crying silently. “What have I done?”

Boromir moaned softly.

Faramir took his brother’s lips in a gentle kiss. “Boromir?”

Blinking a few times, Boromir opened his eyes. “Faramir? Are you all right? I did not… By the Valar, Faramir, do not ask that of me again. I cannot endure the thought of competing with him. Did you?” He looked down and saw Faramir’s cock, hard and straight. “I am sorry.” He swallowed hard, and took Faramir’s shaft in hand.

“Boromir, wait a moment, please?”

Boromir stilled.

“Hold me, please?”

Boromir let go Faramir’s shaft and pulled his brother close in a tight embrace. He had not stopped crying; he did not know if he ever would stop crying. His heart was broken.

“Boromir. I will never again feel the way I do now. Cleansed. Does that make any sense whatsoever?”

“It does, Faramir.”

“But at what cost to you? Oh Boromir. I did not realize.” Faramir’s eyes widened in horror at the grief he saw etched onto Boromir’s face. “I have wounded you.”

“Sh, Faramir. I would die for you.”

A/N

¹ Buttons – I hesitated using buttons as part of Boromir’s clothing as most fanfic writers seem to use less ‘civilized’ clothing for the people of Middle-earth. Yet, I finally decided to go for it – citing Bilbo’s lost buttons as he exited the cave after finding Gollum in The Hobbit.

² Caterwauling – to utter long wailing cries, as cats in rutting time. Don’t you just love this word!!!

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