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Family Games (NC-17) 
Written by December19 December 2010 | 65301 words
Chapter 14. Elven Magic
It was gentle. And soft. And so very warm. And it was so very easy to reciprocate.
He was kissing another man.
Faramir had always envisioned this moment – if ever it were to happen to him – in highly dramatic terms: a moment truth, a moment of fateful irreversibility aptly accompanied by an abrupt descent of darkness, and buffeting winds, and lightning flashes of divine revelation, and thunderous rumblings of doom. It turned out to be nothing of the sort. He was still Faramir, his usual self, standing in the everyday settings of his bedroom, and nothing in his life had shattered or overturned.
He liked how it felt when their lips touched, and pressed together, and slid against and caught at each other. He liked the soft subtle sounds of the kiss, liked the sensation of the Elf’s breath on his face, liked it when after some minutes Orophin lifted his hands to place a lovesome intimate hold on his face, the Elf’s palms on Faramir’s jaw, his fingers on the Man’s neck.
To his own surprise, Faramir even liked it when he felt a brief brush of supple moist heat on his lower lip. It took him a moment to figure out it must have been Orophin’s tongue that touched him thus, and he grinned mentally to himself, thinking how very much indeed he must be attracted to the Elf, if he did not mind this accidental contact of the latter’s tongue with his mouth. But presently it happened again, and Faramir understood Orophin was doing this on purpose.
Had the concept been described to him in theory, Faramir would have most probably found it odd and far too feral, and rather repelling at that. This was not a practice he had ever witnessed anybody engage in, nor one he had even heard mention of. What modest practical experience he had in the field had not prepared the young man for as much as the possibility of such a thing.
Yet now he felt titillated and intrigued more than anything else – and he thought, seeing as he was kissing an Elf, he might as well kiss him the elven way.
So when next Orophin prodded his lips in this manner, Faramir opened up to him and showed he wanted the contact to linger. He sighed into their kiss and strengthened his grip on the Elf’s waist as Orophin licked along the inner side of his upper lip, then teased the highly sensitive spot at the corner of his mouth and moved back over the man’s lower lip.
It excited Faramir so much more than touching only lips to lips, the warmth in his belly swiftly developing into a full-blown heat, and a powerful urge came to him to in turn taste the other’s mouth.
He meant only to touch Orophin’s lips – but bumped into his tongue instead. The sharpness of his body’s reaction to this light impact robbed Faramir of breath, and he gasped and averted his face a bit, too shaken to realise he had gathered fistfuls of the other’s tunic.
Orophin let out a gentle hum of amusement against his mouth, and with his lips Faramir felt the Elf smile. He saw then it endeared his friend that he knew so little in these matters, and the notion reassured him.
So he pulled Orophin yet closer to himself, wrapping his arms around the other’s middle, and tried again.
Their tongues touched ever so lightly, then once more, this time a little bolder. Faramir tilted his head to the side, and licked between Orophin’s lips. He felt the Elf smile again, and then do the same to him, slowly, teasingly.
And so it went on, gradually gathering in daring, and Faramir noted how something in him just as gradually changed. He recognised this to be the Elven magic working on him, or else one operating according to the same laws. The passion and wonder awakening in him were not brought upon him from without, were not imposed onto him or proffered to him in some deceptively comely package – they bred from within him, came from the depths of his self. There was no deceit here, no vice.
The circumstances of Faramir’s life had brought him to view sensuality as cause of little else but perpetual misfortune, humiliation and shame, and therefore in itself a thing obscene and repugnant, bawdy and uncouth, all lowly urges and unsightly actions.
He could not use his current experience to generalise, but this much Faramir could tell: what passion came to be born between him and Orophin did not clash with the tenderness and deep affection he felt for the Elf. There was desire in it, carnal erotic desire, but nothing about it was lewd, putrid or unnatural. He could embrace it with a clear conscience and fear naught.
And the last trace of doubtful unease that still resided in him left. No, Boromir’s kiss would have never been like this. Boromir would have never kissed him so smoothly, so tenderly, so artfully… It would have never felt so uncomplicated… No, he was not seeking Boromir in this kiss, this had nothing to do with his brother.
Faramir opened wider, let in deeper, and welcomed the suddenly swift escalation of ardour, let it wash through him in full-bodied waves. His cock twitched, nodded – and snapped to full arousal just as Orophin pushed his tongue forcefully past the young man’s teeth all the way into his mouth. Faramir pushed it out so that he in turn could claim his friend’s mouth. Orophin hummed in enjoyment, and kissed him even deeper.
Feeling he was beginning to reel, Faramir drew back a little and stared at the other dazedly.
“Good Valar…!” he murmured breathlessly. “This feels so good…”
“It is going to feel even better,” Orophin promised playfully. But along with playfulness there was a new note in his voice, low and husky, and it made Faramir’s veins flood with such heat his clothes began to feel like a bother.
Orophin pulled the Man in again to resume the kiss, and pressed his hips against Faramir’s, so that the Ranger knew the Elf had a hardness to match his own. There was a new hunger to his passion, but it did not frighten Faramir, for it was a hunger to bestow rather than to take away, and it was contagious.
Orophin’s hands slid down first to Faramir’s neck, then his chest, where the Elf’s fingers sought out the Man’s aroused nipples and took to gently massaging and pinching them through the fabric of Faramir’s tunic. Faramir gasped, and jerked forth against Orophin’s body, and as he tilted his head back and to the side, Orophin leant in and kissed him moistly and sensuously on the throat.
“Orophin, I… What…? I…” Faramir panted senselessly, grabbing at the Elf’s back in an unconscious effort to bring him even closer. The fire threatening to break loose in his own body befuddled the young man and made him suspect that what remained of his ability to predict his own behaviour would soon abandon him. He was already fully erect – how was it possible for his desire to jump to yet another height…?
Before he knew it his belt fell to the floor with a clank – and he rejoiced in the liberating sensation of the first little layer being shed off him.
Orophin’s fingers were at his collar, easing it open – then his tunic together with the undershirt was dragged off over his head, and Faramir only obediently lifted his arms to facilitate it. It made him tremble to realise how naked he already was, and although he had previously been before the Elf in a state of total undress, this time it was something altogether different, there was meaning to his nakedness, there was purpose…
He gathered the other in his embrace once more, and this time not only held him, but roamed his hands over Orophin’s body, no longer concerned with appearing too curious or rash. He felt the firm lean curves of the Elf’s arms and chest, the strength and flexibility of his back, the intoxicating way his figure narrowed down to the hips. Faramir buried his hands in Orophin’s hair as he grabbed the Elf on the back of the head to hold him fast as he brought upon him a kiss that went as deep as was only feasible.
He needed more. He did not know what exactly was supposed to be done, for when it came to intimacy with a man, Faramir had always focused on telling himself he would never do it and never even wish to rather than stop and imagine the various arrangements to be acted out between two lovers made alike of body. But he knew he needed more, direly needed it, whatever it was. All his initial anxiety that they would go too fast for his comfort had turned into the direct opposite of itself, and now it seemed to the young Ranger they could never get done fast enough.
“Orophin…” he mumbled against the other’s lips. He pushed his hips forth, pressing his rigid loins to the Elf’s, and his want made him even bolder with his hands, and his palms slid down to cup Orophin on the buttocks.
The sensation of the taut well-developed muscles under his hands made Faramir suck his teeth, for it called on some primal instinct in him, one he desperately wished to follow.
“Oro…” he did not finish, for Orophin swiftly bent over him to bring his mouth to Faramir’s chest, and the kiss he planted on the Man’s left nipple robbed Faramir of breath. Faramir arched against him as Orophin’s tongue and lips played on him, first one nipple, then the other – then, beyond all expectations, the navel…
Then Orophin was up again, claiming Faramir’s mouth once more.
But Faramir averted his face and, slamming the Elf against himself, pressed his face to the side of Orophin’s head and murmured raggedly into his hair, greedily suffocating on his redolent scent, “Orophin… Valar… please, I don’t know, but please…”
Orophin laughed with a soft sparkling laugh and gently pushed him towards the alcoved bed. “Don’t you fret, Faramir, I know what to do.”
From that point everything happened incredibly swiftly.
Without remembering walking there, Faramir sat on the edge of his bed, Orophin straddling his lap, so pleasantly heavy and strong atop him, although at once lithe and graceful. The Elf was grinding his hidden erection against Faramir’s naked abdomen, their mouths locked in an unending kiss, hands busy everywhere.
Then Faramir felt a brief breath of cool against his intimate flesh when the Elf nimbly undid the front of his trousers to let his desire out. In another instant the shiver-inducing freshness was gone, for Orophin’s fingers confidently closed around his length, safely cradling it in the heat of their grasp.
Faramir no longer had enough coordination to do anything, even kiss, so he only wrapped his arms tight around the Elf’s back and pressed his face against his friend’s throat as that hand moved on him. It was so acute, so wondrous, the pleasure resonating through his whole being, knocking all conscious thought out of his head.
This joy was uncontainable, it overfilled him, put incredible pressure on him, threatened to make his tissues burst. Faramir strained against it, yearning to prolong the elation – but it slipped from the control of his will, and broke free. With a hoarse faltering gasp he bucked his hips up at Orophin, and spent.
Faramir sat trembling, rendered senseless by the all-encompassing state of relief and mellow serenity that had at once overtaken him. He still held on tight to the figure above him, for it felt to the young man to be the sole source of all the good that had just happened to him and that was still happening, surrounding him with fondness, and safety, and sweet loving joy. In that particular moment Faramir did not define him as Orophin, his Elven friend, a blond youth from Lórien, and so forth – it was of no importance who he was or what he was called, for he felt like the closest, most kindred being Faramir had ever known.
“How young you are,” Orophin murmured in great affection and a bit of amusement against the top of his head, and ran the palm that had been lying on Faramir’s shoulder over the young man’s charcoal-black hair.
This gentle endearment was enough to pop the bubble of daze surrounding Faramir, and the dreamy fog dissolved from his mind.
The young man blinked himself back to reality, and lifted his face to gaze a little hazily at the Elf.
Orophin smiled down at him – and Faramir smiled back. No pang of regret came with the conscious realisation of what had been done: he was so glad Orophin was here, with him, in his arms…
Still looking him in the eyes, the Elf gave Faramir’s manhood a light teasing squeeze, and Faramir gasped in surprise, having been up to then rather unaware that Orophin was still holding him.
They both looked down at Faramir’s arousal, and the Man saw the ample evidence of his pleasure hanging from the tip of his flushed quavering erection in a heavy elastic drop of murky white.
He gasped again, suddenly mortified with embarrassment at the crude unsightliness of it, quite certain it had irrevocably ruined the moment – and frantically grabbed for the edge of the coverlet to clean himself with.
“Wait,” Orophin murmured softly, planting his hand on Faramir’s arm and staying him. “Let me take care of this for you.”
Faramir breathed out uneasily, willing himself to calm down, and with a nod of consent motioned for Orophin to do as he would.
“Truly,” the Elf mused, sliding from his lap to kneel on the floor before him, and running his hands over the Man’s thighs, “you should not get upset over this. It is the most precious thing your body can produce, more precious even than your very blood. Besides, don’t forget you and I are made alike: my body expresses joy in like manner, so nothing about you could appall me.”
Faramir only chewed on his lip, looking down at the Elf whose face was now so close to his manhood. It was reassuring that at least Orophin understood the cause of his distress, but he wished so much more that his friend would first ‘take care’ of it, and then say all the nice calming words.
“I can wipe you with my hair, if you like,” Orophin offered casually, gathering a handful of his tresses and looking up at the Man in eager expectation.
Faramir coughed in amazement.
“Goodness, no!” he exclaimed round-eyed. “Your hair is gorgeous, don’t soil it thus!”
The Elf snorted in amusement, as though in truth he had expected no other answer. “Fine, fine, I won’t.”
Then, before Faramir could perceive what he was up to, he swiftly leant in and picked up the full slick drop into his mouth, and without halting proceeded to wrap his lips over the tip of Faramir’s erection and slide down his shaft.
Faramir cried out, and thrust at him involuntarily, for despite his satisfied state, his arousal had not yet dissipated, and its tip was highly sensitive.
Orophin hummed a chuckle and went on to slowly slide up and down the tender length, gently sucking on it and twirling his skillful tongue around it as he spread the Man’s own cream all over it. Faramir’s breathing once more became heavy, and he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He had not known such fine, delicate pleasure before. It had not occurred to him to ever keep touching himself after he had worked off his tension – and now that there was no pressuring goal of achieving release, he could relax completely and bask in the sensations.
All too soon for his liking he went soft, and eventually Orophin let go of his manhood. For a couple delicious moments the Elf remained on his knees, tenderly licking and sucking on Faramir’s balls, then moved up to kiss the Man’s abdomen and up to his chest.
When Orophin climbed atop him once again to straddle his hips, Faramir discovered the Elf had lost the lower half of his attire, although the Man could not recall that happening. Faramir smiled, enjoying the contrast between how modest the Elf still looked, what with his tunic covering his hips and concealing the evidence of his desire, and how utterly shameless he felt to the touch when Faramir slid his hands up beneath the rim of his shirt, cupping his firm boyish behind. Orophin laughed under his breath, a laugh of mirth and delight, and pushed forth at him, rocking not only with his hips but as though with his whole body.
Faramir knew that if he would he could now in turn access the Elf’s very desire, for it too was merely hidden from view by his tunic, but perfectly available to touch, and Faramir felt the hardness, rising perfectly upwards, caress against his stomach and chest with its full length as Orophin subtly moved on top of him.
He had never touched another’s sex with his hand, let alone held someone else’s erection, and the prospect filled Faramir both with naughty exhilarated curiosity and faint trepidation. Had Orophin not stroked him first, he would have perhaps never dared, deeming it far too private a thing, too much of an intrusion. But he knew that along with being private, it was also a highly pleasurable thing, and of course he wanted to bring his friend to the heights he had recently been to himself.
Slowly he moved his hold from the Elf’s buttocks to his hips, then slid one hand even further towards his front.
As Faramir’s fingers painted a light probing stroke up the underside of the Elf’s smooth warm arousal, Orophin leant out of the kiss to look down in the Man’s face. His grey-green eyes had suddenly grown exceptionally hazy, his full lips were parted, and he seemed on the whole quite overwhelmed and even intoxicated. Faramir paused, his palm resting motionless against the other’s length, and for a long quiet moment they held still, not moving, not making a sound, only looking into each other’s eyes, the sheer contact so intense nothing else was necessary.
Then the Elf smiled at him, very gently, not so much with his lips as rather with his eyes. It was a content, peaceful, encouraging smile. The smile of a very close friend rather than of a lusty lover. And it was this smile that served as the final irrefutable confirmation to Faramir that what they were doing was not only not wrong – it was right, for both of them were doing it for the right reasons.
Carefully he wrapped his fingers around Orophin’s hardness. It responded, twitching in his grasp – and in that moment Faramir suddenly wanted to look unto it, to watch it grow redder and longer as he worked on it. But for now, he decided, he would let everything stay as it was. It felt powerfully erotic to touch without being able to see, and it was more apposite to the mood of tender, cautious and unhurried exploration that had returned to the young man once his own need had been temporarily satisfied.
Faramir pumped gently, slowly. He knew it would feel more intense for Orophin if he were to do it harder, to squeeze the Elf’s cock proprietarily, and rub it quickly, and even jerk at it from time to time – and he knew Orophin would perhaps even want this, but Faramir did not wish to make his friend rush to completion like he himself had been unable to help rushing.
Only when the Elf began to pant and bite his lip, and push needily into Faramir’s hand, did the Man judge it was time to move a little forward.
He let go of Orophin’s erection, and slowly slid his palms down the Elf’s bare thighs, then up again to slip beneath his shirt and caress his hips and flanks.
“I wish to see all of you,” he said softly.
Orophin grinned, undid the cords at his collar, and raised his arms accommodatingly – and Faramir pulled his tunic off and threw it to the farther corner of the bed. The Elf inhaled deeply, and arched with his whole body towards the man in a seductive gesture of supplication, inviting and offering – but his expression remained wholly serious and intent, and he looked searchingly into Faramir’s face, obviously keen to see the Man’s reaction to his nakedness.
Faramir trailed his eyes down the Elf’s form, then slowly up again. He had seen this body before, yet now that his friend was aroused, it had become altogether different, and although in his mind Faramir knew it ought to seem familiar, it did not.
At last he turned his gaze to Orophin’s face and smiled. “You are so beautiful.”
He was not merely beautiful – he was beautiful in the way that was easy for Faramir to desire. The young Ranger doubted he could have ever embraced or even accepted in himself a sexual yearning for a full-grown mortal man – a man with breadth and bulk, with thick powerful thighs and sturdy sinewy forearms, with coarse dark hair on his breast and abdomen, dense stubble on his cheeks and a deep chesty voice. A man who would be a little clumsy in his rough overbearing passion, who would grunt and breathe raspingly, and perhaps even swear in his moment of pleasure, who would smell bitingly of lust and sweat. He knew such men were often enviably popular among women – but Faramir was not a woman, and he did not want to desire a man the way a woman would.
He did not wish to be overwhelmed, dominated, tamed – he yearned to be on a par, to rejoice in the similarity of make, in being able to take the same road to joy. He was hungry and curious for the strength and confidence of another, but did not want brutality or brashness.
He did not wish to see any femininity in his lover either, nor excessive timidity or submissiveness – he only wanted the other’s masculinity to be of a comely and graceful variety, to awake in him not only carnal urges, but admiration and wonder.
The Elf was perfect.
Faramir ran his hands over Orophin’s shoulders and chest, then, recalling how good it had felt when Orophin did it to him, leant forth to flick his tongue at the other’s nipples and lightly suck on them. The Elf let out a quiet moan and rocked his pelvis at Faramir, pushing his arousal to the Man’s abdomen.
“Orophin…?” Faramir murmured without lifting his face to look at the Elf, and licked at his nipple again.
“Mm…?”
“Do you want…” Faramir began hesitantly, marvelling at his own boldness, “do you want me to do that thing for you that you did for me… with your mouth?”
“If you would…” the Elf replied undemandingly.
Faramir nodded in confirmation that indeed he would, and Orophin slid off him to assume a more convenient position. He stood a little to the side of Faramir and put one foot on the mattress, thus not only bringing his erection almost level with the Man’s face, but also spreading his legs for full access to all his sensitive places. He stood quiet and expectant as Faramir shifted closer, and stroked the Elf slowly up the legs and over the hips, and studied his taut manhood up-close.
It looked such a good, fine thing. It was very clean, and hale, and virile. It was full of nothing but potent creative energy which it yearned to share through sharing pleasure, and so in that moment it seemed to Faramir utterly inconceivable that one might be repelled by the sight of it.
Faramir liked how artfully it was made, even in its engorged state appearing so comely to the eye. There was harmony of shape and proportion in it, and the pale gold hue of the curls surrounding its base, much lighter in colour than the hair on Orophin’s head, communicated a strange degree of innocence to it. This was not an arousal that would remind Faramir of some other man’s sex, for in Gondor he had only chanced to see those accompanied by lush heavy blackness.
He liked the scent too: heady and penetrating, but not too strong or pungent. It was not a scent Faramir would want to shut out from his senses – on the contrary, there was an enticing underlying note to it, subtle and elusive, that made the young man inhale more and more.
He knew then that he wanted to take his mouth to the Elf not only for the sake of the latter’s indulgence, but for his own enjoyment as well. This was the essence of Orophin’s masculinity, and in treating it with well-measured ardour, in appreciating both its strength and utmost delicacy he would pay homage to his own male nature.
And so he set to it, very tentatively at first, the touches of his lips and tongue ever so light and probing. He took the time to observe the taste, to appreciate the different textures…
Faramir had worried he would not know what to do, how exactly to go about delivering this service, but quickly discovered everything happened naturally, easily. The language of the body left no space for misinterpretation, no cause for doubt, and soon he knew where and how exactly Orophin liked to have his manhood kissed, and sucked, and licked, and what other things Faramir could do to it with his mouth. And then the young man remembered his tongue and lips were not the only tools at his disposal – he had a pair of hands too, which up to then had been keeping an idle grip on the Elf’s hips.
So the young man took to kneading his flexed buttocks, and carefully massaging his balls, slowly pulling on them up and down, and stroking with his fingers that part of the length that did not comfortably fit into his mouth.
Orophin was sighing expressively, and deep humming moans rose in his throat, and his hands were saying a wordless thank you through the way they caressed the Man’s shoulders and neck – all this was enough for Faramir to know he was on the right path. Yet still he wanted to see the ultimate proof in the Elf’s face and, his lips wrapped around Orophin’s cock, Faramir looked up.
Orophin was watching him as though deep in thought, his eyes alight with appreciation and something deeper.
He said something to Faramir, but Faramir could not understand, for the Elf had spoken in his native Silvan tongue, apparently reserving it for the most sacred things. And Faramir knew that what he said was something exceptionally good, and that was enough for the young man.
Perhaps he had grown a little too engrossed in his ministrations, for Orophin was beginning to strain against him, obviously doing his best to withhold from thrusting forth – and then a few drops of his seed leaked onto the Man’s tongue.
Faramir gasped in shock, and instinctively drew away. He would not say that the taste was unpleasant per se – it was simply more than he could take, at least for now. In his elated enthusiasm he had quite forgotten that if he were to do his job well, he would get a mouthful of the other’s concentrated essence, and he realised now he was not quite prepared for this.
“A little too much, hm?” Orophin chuckled in amusement, and reached to stroke him on the jaw and neck in a gentle supportive gesture.
Faramir grinned weakly.
“But I do want to pleasure you,” he said resolutely, leaning in again – but Orophin stayed him.
“There’s no need to step over yourself,” he said. “Many ways there are for you to pleasure me. Undress and lie down, and I shall show you.”
And so Faramir shed his already lowered leggings, pulled back the coverlet and reclined expectantly – while in the meantime Orophin returned to the table where they had supped, and took the bottle of green glass half-full with olive oil, and brought it to put on the floor by the bed.
“What is that for?” Faramir asked with interest.
“You shall soon find out,” Orophin murmured promisingly, as he climbed in to lie by the Man’s side.
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Wow, December, I did hope that my request would go to you, I know you write so well… but I never expected to get an eighteen-chapter story! And how will I find the time to read it all, now?
Well, thank you so much, I’m sure I’ll love it, and I’ll start reading at once; but you might have to wait a bit for a full commentary…
— Nerey Camille Sunday 19 December 2010, 13:50 #