Faramir Fiction Archive

Decisions (NC-17)

Written by Anorienbean

10 July 2007 | 958 words

Title: Decisions
Pairing: Faramir/Haldir, Faramir/? (If I say, it’ll spoil the story)
Rating: NC-17
WARNING: ANGST, DISTURBING CONTENT
Beta: My darling [info]martonsmistress
A/N:

• I can only say that my dear closet_hobbit (♥ for letting me whine, darling) knew the state of mind I was in when I wrote this, so it’ll probably make more sense to her than anyone else. :P
• See next story to make up for this one.
  Summary: Faramir must decide between two lovers.
  Written for 100_moods: Prompt 069. Numb

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I sit, hands clasped before me, eyes closed, knowing that my decision will affect everyone. I can seek no counsel, for the two most affected by my choice have already made their positions clear.

Two lovers wanting one Man… wanting me. In choosing either one, I will break the other. And I am Faramir, the man who gets his heart broken, not the one who breaks them.

I have sat here for most of the afternoon and well into the evening, knowing that each moment I make them wait, it gives them both a bit more hope, and makes my decision all the harder.

At the far end of the citadel waits one lover, one who has been gentle and careful with me, one who says he fell in love with me the moment our eyes met. He would give his very life for me, I know that. We make love often, and only after he lovingly prepares me will he take me, making me crazy with need. He pleasures us both, his flesh inside me, on me, thrusting and stroking and making us cry out with pleasure at just the same time and Gods, there is nothing like the feeling of being loved like that, nothing on all of Arda that has ever made me feel so cherished. He loved me despite the bruises, the shame, the painful shyness that has haunted me since the day my older, dearest, better brother was killed. He is the one who says he still loves me, despite the fact that only a few hours ago, I confessed to him the truth of why I have never stayed the night in his rooms, confessed that after I lay with him, I clean myself and walk down the hallway, to another room, another bed. I saw the pain in his eyes at my words, but his arms stayed around me and his hands moved over my skin as they always had – lovingly, gently, almost reverently. He wants to take me away from this place, wants me to be his mate, his lover, to live in a forest filled with laughter and sunshine and happiness.

I want to go. I do. But I cannot disregard the other, the lonely soul at the end of the hall, the one who waits for me, even now, afraid that I will not come to him tonight.

He waits in a room that is larger and darker and filled with the scent of sex and anger, of loneliness and misery, though, until recently, I had not even realized that those emotions had a scent. It is to this room I go late in the night, into this bed with no trace of my other lover on my body, clean both inside and out.

In this room, there is nothing gentle. In this room, my wrists are pinned behind my back, my legs forced apart, my body invaded roughly, and there is no one to care about my pleasure. When he finishes, he collapses on me, breathing heavily, his breath hot and sour, and I wonder how much he has had to drink, and if he will even be conscious enough to pull out of me before he falls asleep. He has never said he loves me, but I know…he must. Why else would he hold me so hard, gripping my arms and legs and hands and neck so tightly he leaves bruises, if not to show the world that I belong to him? I was there when he lost the one he treasured most in the world; I was the one he turned to, I was the one he needed. I had never been needed before, and I confess, it was an exhilarating feeling. In his own way, I know he loves me… he simply has not found a way to express his feelings yet, the grief still to fresh in his mind of all that he has lost, the pain still to close to the surface.

To one I bring happiness and joy; to the other I bring release and familiarity.

One I have known only a few short, perfect months. The other I have known all my life, though not intimately until the past eight years.

They both need me; they both want me; they both want the other gone forever.

Slowly, I open my eyes and take a deep breath. For all my concentration, I had always known what my decision must be.

I stand and cross the room, then open the door to my chambers. I feel a sense sorrow washing over me in waves, yet there is nothing more I can do.

I hear them then, two voices, one soft and filled with longing, the other loud, demanding, filled with promises of even worse pain than normal if I do not hurry to his bed.

I speak two words, then walk away, breaking the heart of the one I know truly deserves happiness, and heading into the arms of the one who I know in my heart, despite myself, will always hate me.

“Coming, father,” I say softly, and with my head down and my heart breaking, I walk down the hallway to the only future I deserve.

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