Faramir Fiction Archive

Family Honor (NC-17)

Written by Mcguffan

14 July 2006 | 162886 words

Chapter 18

Chewing the last of his bread carefully, Isu snuck a quick glance at Flyn. The man was talking wistfully about all the various foods he planned to eat once they returned to Minas Tirith. Isu was listening with only half an ear to these musings. He had thought of an idea to stop Flyn’s conversations with the stranger and he was waiting for an opportunity to try it. No opportunity had yet presented itself, however, and time was running short. Isu needed to implement his plan before the stranger returned and that could happen at any moment. Sighing with resignation, Isu finally decided he would have to create his own opportunity. “Perhaps if your friend decides to walk with us again, he will tell us about the favorite foods of his tribe.” Isu cringed a little over the maladroit statement. Flyn nodded at the clumsy interjection but, apparently, his attention had not been caught for he continued to discuss his own thought without further acknowledging that Isu had said anything. Plunging ahead Isu continued as casually as he could. “He will probably walk with Halbarad for the rest of the day, though. But maybe someone else interesting will come along to talk to.”

As Isu expected the mention of the hated name made Flyn suddenly very alert. “What do you mean?” The former lieutenant demanded, scanning the crowd quickly before locking onto the ranger in question. Halbarad happened to be sitting alone casually gazing out at the world around him. Quickly becoming aware that he was the object of scrutiny Halbarad’s eyes were drawn to Flyn. Isu who was beside and a little behind Flyn raised his eyebrows at the ranger, wrinkled his nose and even puffed out his cheeks. Halbarad’s eyes narrowed in confusion and a little concern as he watched Isu’s strange facial expressions. When Isu smiled and looked aside as if to explain that he was only having a bit of fun, Halbarad raised a quizzical eyebrow then returned his attention to surveying the world around him.

Clearly unnerved by how the ranger had apparently been looking at him, Flyn demanded again: “What do you mean?”

“When we stopped for lunch your friend and Halbarad were talking. They seemed to have a lot to say to one another so I thought they might continue talking throughout the afternoon.” Isu replied, trying to sound nonchalant. Flyn was silent.

“When I first saw your friend last night I thought he was a merchant because Halbarad was giving him money. Then today, he was speaking the Common Tongue—not many of the Khandrihm can do that so I thought he must have had dealings with the West, but he said nothing of that to us, so perhaps not.” Isu was now making things up as he spoke. Flyn’s stillness was beginning to unnerve him and fought to suppress the urge to further embroider the tale simply to fill the silence.

Biting his lip to keep from babbling, Isu was relieved when Flyn finally seemed to come back to himself: “Come along, the march will begin soon.” Gratefully, Isu jumped to his feet and fell in at Flyn’s heels.

Later when the stranger returned with smiles and compliments Flyn walked on without turning to look at him. When the exasperated man finally stepped in front of Flyn’s path to block him, the former lieutenant snarled: “You’ve gotten all your going to get from me. Go back and tell your- your friend that I’m done with you and that he should just leave me alone. All right!” Flyn then shoved passed the other man. Isu just had time to notice that the stranger’s expression was not really as surprised as one might have expected before he scuttled forward to catch up with his charge.

The stranger stood motionless for a moment wondering how he had given himself away. Everything had seemed to be going well. Pulling himself from his immobility, he turned toward the rear of the procession. His commander would not be pleased with this new report.

The sky was darkening and everywhere men were preparing for the night. Among the Gondorhim, those who had been assigned to take the first watch took up positions around the perimeter of their comrades’ tents and fires. Aragorn watched the activity as he went through his own evening ritual. He chatted with those he came across, made sure the guards had taken up good positions, saw to it that all minor injuries, scrapes, blisters and sunburns were not ignored. He had already made a circuit of the camp and was preparing to make a second when Halbarad fell into step beside him.

The two men exchanged greetings and then continued to walk in silence. Because of the incident in the afternoon Aragorn had already been subjected to a long and- in his own opinion- unnecessarily strident tirade from his friend about the need for caution. He knew he would face a more deferential yet nonetheless insistent lecture when he told Faramir what had happened. It had even occurred to the ranger that it might not be absolutely necessary to share the event with Faramir. It would worry the young man unnecessarily. Even as he contemplated it, however, Aragorn dismissed the idea. It was unfair to his beloved friend to withhold information. His desire to protect Faramir from information that might upset him vied with his understanding that Faramir needed to know he was trusted and that denying him information would hobble his understanding of the circumstances in which Aragorn himself had so foolishly led them. In the end, he knew he would have to treat Faramir with the same respect he himself would demand had their positions been reversed.

Already dreading the prospect of Faramir’s overpowering concern, Aragorn was in no mood for another harangue from Halbarad. Yet, as the silence lengthened Aragorn began to grow more comfortable in the companionable presence of his friend and gradually he began to allow his mind to wonder. Aragorn was reflecting that the temperature was no longer dropping so precipitously at night and that in a few more days, they could expect to see the terrain slowly become green and alive. He would be glad to leave the desert. There was a beauty in the sheer vastness of the burning sands but it was a beauty he was happy to admire from a distance. The extremes of the landscape seemed to evoke similar extremes in human emotions. He wondered if, once they found themselves returned to a more moderate clime, he himself might not hope to tamp down the extremes of his own passions.

“I spoke to your young man earlier today.” With Halbarad’s words, Aragorn abandoned thoughts of cutting winds, burning sun and air that stole the moisture from your lungs with every breath and the human psychological equivalents of these phenomena. “I confess I shall have to struggle very hard not to like him.”

“Do not fight the inevitable, Barad nin.” Aragorn replied grinning. “Save your strength for battles you have some hope of winning.”

“Sound advice.” Halbarad conceded, returning Aragorn’s smile. “He really is quite intelligent and perceptive. He has wisdom beyond his years but there is also a quality of youth about him. He can appreciate subtlety without getting overwhelmed in minutiae.”

Aragorn was practically glowing as Halbarad continued. “The Captain’s intellect is informed by a keen sense of ethics, duty and obligation. Indeed it is quite startling to find someone who can devote his mind, heart and spirit to the same object without hypocrisy.” Aragorn understood what his friend was saying. There were some people who could only love something mysterious or ineffable as soon as they understood it or subjected it to analysis the thing lost its splendor and appeal. Faramir’s admiration of a person or a thing seemed to increase with his understanding and if his analysis revealed flaws he did not ignore those imperfections or grow disillusioned but confronted the reality with courage and even love. Still warm from the contemplation of his Faramir, Aragorn had been alerted by something in Halbarad’s tone that his friend had more in mind than simply indulging his lord’s affection for his lover.

“Though I could willing discuss Faramir’s many wonderful qualities at great length, it seems to me you have a different object in mind.”

“I have a different object in mind.” Halbarad conceded and Aragorn felt his muscles tighten. He was consciously preparing to be reasonable upon a subject he expected to feel quite unreasonable.

“When we leave Khand do you plan to go immediately to Minas Tirith and demand what is yours?”

“No.” Aragorn’s response was very mild and Halbarad felt a tremor through his body. These were subjects of high emotion and privileged though he was in the profound affection of his lord Halbarad knew better than to press too hard on certain matters.

“When we leave Khand do you mean to have Lord Faramir accompany us West, perhaps into Imladris or back east if you are truly intent upon searching for Gandalf’s elusive creature?”

“No.” Halbarad knew these answers. Aragorn was partly of a mind to demand he get to the point but eventually he decided to let his friend say what he wished in his own way.

“Have you given any thought to what if any contact you shall maintain with Captain Faramir?”

“Some.”

“There would be some tactical advantage to sharing information with the Ithilien rangers. Through the Captain we could also keep an eye on the political happenings in Minas Tirith. Yet, it occurs to me the disadvantages far outweigh the advantages.” Halbarad was no happier than Aragorn in this conversation but he could not remain silent on a matter he considered to be of great importance.

“You want to discuss the pros and cons of collaborating with the Ithilien rangers?” Aragorn would give Halbarad a hearing but he could not bring himself to make it easy on the other ranger.

“No, I wish to discuss what shall become of your relationship with Faramir once the two of you part company.”

“All right. Discuss.”

“I am sincere in my admiration of Lord Faramir, I do not think it either wise or kind to place him between you and Denethor.” Halbarad struggled to be matter-of-fact. “Faramir is filled with self-doubt. He will not trust his own judgment about when to speak and when to keep silent and in second guessing himself he will reveal more than ever he would have intended. The Steward will feed on his self-doubt to the sorrow of us all.”

“I would not put Faramir between Denethor and myself.” Aragorn’s voice shook with emphasis. “I would never expect him to choose between us.” Aragorn wanted to insist that he would have Faramir keep no secrets from Denethor. He almost felt it was the truth except, of course, that it wasn’t. The greatest secret of all was Aragorn himself.

“I make no claims upon Faramir besides a claim of affection and even in that I do not ask for exclusivity. I- I have already told him that he would do well to take the love the fates offer him in the time ahead.” Aragorn realized he was too vehement in his insistence, proving Halbarad’s point for him.

“Perhaps another man could avoid any conflict of loyalties, but Faramir is Denethor’s son. The old man has a nose for secrets and I think he will know it, if Faramir does not bury his love for you very deep. It is a simple fact that your interests are not Denethor’s. I would say that Gondor’s interests are not Denethor’s for in his interest in the Gauntlet the Steward betrays an interest in the crown and for any Steward to aspire to that which is so far above him cannot serve the nation.” Halbarad took a deep breath. “If you would hear my counsel regarding Captain Faramir, my lord, it is this: Claim him or let him go.”

“‘Let him go’. You mean abandon him to fortune and his father while I brood over my own overweening ambitions?” Images of Denethor’s cruelty and disdain for his younger son played themselves over in Aragorn’s nightmares. If he could do nothing else, he wanted to give Faramir the shield of his ongoing affection to hold against Denethor’s severity. “Faramir would not betray me, Halbarad. There is no duplicity in him.”

“No duplicity, none and that is why he would suffer keeping secrets from his father. Already, he must remain silent about your existence. Do not ask him to conceal anything further. Do not send him back to his father with the flame of love burning to brightly in him for any attempt at concealment. After you partSend him no word or message. Do not visit him. Do not send others to ask for information in your name and do not allow those who serve you to give him information. A different man might balance a duty to the Steward against a duty to his King but not Faramir. If the conflict did not actually break him it would certainly cause him great pain. As to Denethor, does it not occur to you that if you are wary of trusting Faramir to his care then you should also be cautious of trusting Gondor to him?”

“Don’t be flippant.” Aragorn snarled.

“I am not being flippant.” Halbarad said softly. There was silence between the two men. For the first several minutes, Halbarad believed he could feel Aragorn’s anger and sense of helplessness. If he could have taken his friend’s anguish upon himself and spared the other man then he would have done so gladly. As it was he could only share in the unhappiness.

As they continued walking around the perimeter, Aragorn seemed to calm. No longer fighting the force of Halbarad’s words Aragorn allowed himself to consider the implications. In good conscience, he could say that he had not already considered parts of Halbarad’s argument. Hearing the words spoken aloud, however, lent them a reality that they had not had before. He knew his friend was almost certainly correct that to keep any ties with Faramir after they left Khand would be a mistake. It was still painful. Being apart from Arwen had struck Aragorn as a profound unhappiness but at least with her he was permitted to visit, spend time, unburden the secrets of his hearts and then when it was time to go he could depart with the knowledge that his lady’s comfort and safety were in the hands of her powerful and protective family. How could he bring himself to leave Faramir so completely?

“As ever, I am grateful to you for your candor, Barad nin.” Aragorn took several deep breaths and reached to place a hand on Halbarad’s shoulder. “I know you would not speak unless you felt there were need. I am confounded by this situation. I can see no course that does not lead to failure- of one sort or another.”

“I would sooner fail with you than succeed with anyone else. Nor am I alone in this sentiment.”

It was not easy to hear such words. Aragorn took them into himself as one might press a knife against one’s flesh- carefully, in the expectation of pain and the fear of profound wounding. There was pain. The love and trust of others cut so deeply yet Aragorn needed it, craved it. And there was something else, too. Something Aragorn was not prepared to put a name to. “You are a good friend, Halbarad. Thank you.”

Shrugging Halbarad smiled with just a corner of his mouth as if to say `you needn’t bother to mention it.’

Happily, Faramir threw his arms around Aragorn’s neck. He had been studying the maps before the ranger’s arrival and the study had been giving him a headache. Not that Faramir needed the maps any longer. He had long since committed them to memory. The parchment gave his thoughts a focal point, however, and he found he took a perverse joy in tracing their route so far. Then, following the path they would take to the nearest point they could reach before their plan had any hope of success. It was a bit like prodding an aching tooth. Aragorn’s presence, however, instantly dispersed his gloom.

“I had intended to be here sooner, but I fell into discussion with Halbarad.” Aragorn explained his lateness as he took in the scent of fresh herbs, soap and Faramir. Though as he had come in, Faramir had been leaning over the table of maps it was apparent the young man had bathed very recently. His hair was damp and his skin glowed in the firelight. He was only wearing a pair of loose fitting trousers and Aragorn took the opportunity to run his hands over the soft hair and firm flesh of his chest.

“All is well?” Faramir asked nuzzling Aragorn’s neck.

Taking in a deep breath filled with the wonderful aroma of clean Faramir, Aragorn did not answer. “You are astonishingly lovely, I should fear to touch you until I have washed.” As he spoke Aragorn raised his hands up and away from the younger man but leaned in to kiss his lips before turning away in search of the basin of water.

“If you will, but not on my account I hope.” Faramir smiled. By nature, the younger man tended to be quite tidy- even fastidious. He had discovered, however, that an Aragorn covered in salt sweat, the dust of a foreign land and the exotic tang of adventure and strength had an undeniable appeal. Aragorn grinned in reply to Faramir’s comment but as the younger man moved to assist him in the removal of his shirt Aragorn stopped him.

“This afternoon, one of our shadows passed me this.” So saying Aragorn reached within his tunic and drew out a folded sheet of paper.

“It is written in the Common Tongue.” Faramir commented, after taking the paper. He felt a powerful sense of trepidation and did his best to quell it enough to read the careful script.

“I suppose the Variags would prefer that such a message should not be bruited about among our escort. That is good for us because it indicates that the Variags are truly worried about how their fellow countrymen perceive them.” Aragorn answered as he removed his shirt and prepared to duck his head into the tepid water remaining in the basin.

The note was short. It read: `Strider, Escape is impossible. Come to us of your own will and spare the lives of your friends.’ Faramir had to struggle against the urge to tear the papers into shreds. How dare those people try to use the Gondorhim as leverage against Aragorn? The worst of it was that such an offer would genuinely appeal to Aragorn’s strong desire protect his companions. The fact that the Variags had attempted such a ploy meant that they must understand that Aragorn would at least take an interest in any plan that promised salvation for those with him. Thus, their intention was to use Aragorn’s nobility against him. It seemed to Faramir unnecessarily cruel.

“Surely, they know you would never accept such an offer. Even if the Variags could be trusted, which they cannot, we could not lose you.” Behind his indignation, Faramir was afraid that Aragorn’s refusal was not so absolutely certain as it should be.

Scrubbing at his hair and face with a wet soapy cloth, Aragorn did not answer immediately. “I take it as a positive sign that the Variags are sufficiently frustrated with the situation to approach me. They cannot be enjoying this trek westward.”

“It could mean they are frustrated. It could also be a simple attempt to intimidate us.” Faramir conceded, “I am only surprised they should believe they have anything to gain by this. It cannot gain them what they seek.” Faramir felt that this point could do with frequent repetitions.

Wringing water from the cloth, Aragorn moved it vigorously across his torso. Faramir watched with a mixture of desire and apprehension. He wanted Aragorn to promise that he would not leave them, that Faramir would not wake up one morning to find that his beloved lord had vanished with the Variags. Aragorn was so beautiful to the younger man that he had to fight the need to embrace him and feel the warmth of strong arms envelope him. At the same time, however, Aragorn seemed to be avoiding Faramir’s eyes as he washed. The Captain was beginning to feel a little disconcerted by this and he could not help but wonder if Aragorn were in some way displeased with him.

“They hope we shall start keeping secrets from one another. I expect you will be approached next. They may even mention this note, hoping it will surprise you.”

Faramir was luminous in the flickering light. Aragorn wanted to hold the warm flesh against him and let Faramir’s presence sooth him. He knew that the young Captain was a little distressed by the Variag’s message. His love and concern shone from him. Yet, the conversation with Halbarad was still fresh in Aragorn’s mind and he had not entirely adjusted to the idea of establishing and keeping a distance between himself and the younger man. He was afraid that if he opened his arms to Faramir now then he would never let him go. So in desperation he found himself wielding the washcloth like a shield against Faramir’s advances. Guilt stabbed at him even as he saw Faramir drop his arms to his sides and lower his gaze. The fear that if he pressed then he would only earn a more forthright rejection was written clearly on the younger man’s face.

“What did Halbarad say?” Faramir asked quietly. He was instantly alarmed to see that the question made Aragorn wince. “Is there something that I do not see? Please, I beg you to tell me.”

“Not at all, my… my dear.” Aragorn sighed. He did not want to cause Faramir distress but he seemed unable to prevent it. “Halbarad held forth at great length advising me to be cautious, but there is no new danger in the Variag’s message. I… I have only wanted to spare you as much worry as I could. I think I have achieved results the opposite of my intent.”

Tension seeped out of Faramir’s body. This time when he took a step forward, Aragorn- powerless to do otherwise- put down the washcloth and welcomed him. Faramir pressed his hot cheek against the cool damp of Aragorn’s chest and closed his eyes. “You must forgive me my concern, my lord. I am afraid it is in my nature. I think I would be utterly confused and discontented if I had nothing to be anxious over.” Aragorn chuckled softly. Faramir felt it more than heard it. Then the older man leaned down to lightly kiss Faramir’s neck and shoulder.

“Truly though, please don’t worry over my reactions. I do not think I could bear it if I- if my love were . . a burden to you.” Though he had tried to remain calm, Faramir found to his dismay that his shoulders had begun to shake and that his voice was close to breaking.

“No, Faramir. You misunderstand, my love.” Stroking Faramir’s back, Aragorn wondered how to explain something he did not entirely understand himself.

“Will you make us a glass of wine,” Aragorn requested after a few moments “and I shall try to tell you how it is for me.”

Nodding, Faramir slipped from his arms to go about the assigned task. After Faramir brought him a cup, Aragorn took a few sips and saw to it the other man did the same. Then, Aragorn began to pace as he struggled to articulate his thoughts. Faramir moved to the blankets and sat down on his heels, hoping he was not in the way.

“I am accustomed to taking care of others, protecting them, loving them.” Aragorn began still pacing the length of the tent. “It seemed natural and it was easy. I took it as my prerogative to worry over the welfare of others. Even when I was on my own, even in the wilderness there were people now and then, travelers, an isolated village even a lone family trying to subsist in the harsh environs. Perhaps it was presumptuous but those people belonged to me. They were mine to look after, to guard, to help. Often they never knew I was there, but I was there. I found a certain contentment in this arrangement.”

Faramir held his hands in his lap. He knew what was coming. Not meaning to, he had transgressed some important boundary. Did Faramir’s concern signal to Aragorn that he had no confidence in him, that he was trying to usurp the role of leader? How could Faramir atone for such contumaciousness? What was more, Faramir did not know how to avoid repeating his error. He could not expunge from his mind the terrible fear that something terrible might happen to Aragorn, nor could he stop himself from trying anything and everything to protect him.

“I don’t mean-”

“Hush, Faramir.” The words were spoken softly, gently. “Let me finish.”

Aragorn stopped pacing and ran a hand through his damp hair before coming over and sitting a few feet from Faramir. “Even with the Dunedain, Arwen and the others I have come to know, it has always been my way to try and serve and protect—even the terrible fear that I might fail was something I felt entitled to. The fear was an important right and privilege, one that I had no intention of surrendering.”

“As others began to care for me, they began to fear for me as well. I fought hard against that. It hurt. It still does. That others should worry for me, that I should be the cause of anxiety rather than the solution stung badly. I think my poor Halbarad feels that anything he does for me must be done on the sly or with an apology lest I be offended. I told myself that the care and concern of others was just another burden of responsibility, something to be stoically endured. That was unkind, Faramir. I wish I had not tried to view matters thus, but you see, I had to tell myself such things because otherwise I would have to find a way to forgive myself for needing their concern, wanting it, enjoying it. I am glad you are worried for me Faramir. I am glad because I know it means you love me and I want you to love me. I need it—even though, I suspect you would be better off if you didn’t.” After the last words, Aragorn let his breath out in a long sight. The energy that had sent him striding impatiently across the tent had completely abandoned him now.

“There is always a festival on the Steward’s birthday.” Faramir said into the silence. He wanted to reach for Aragorn’s hands but he knew it was too soon. “There were parades, dances, feasts and all sorts of spectacles. Father always looked on it as a diplomatic tool, an excuse to invite allies to Minas Tirith and to dispense largesse to amuse the common citizens. The tradition is that the Steward is supposed to be particularly accessible on his birthday and though Denethor never cared for the custom he always made himself available for a few hours in the afternoon to anyone who wished to come and speak to him. Of course, there were complaints and requests for favors and the like but many people just came to see him, to wish him well- to celebrate I suppose.”

“Some of the people came from far away and many of them brought gifts. For some reason it was important to the people to present the gifts themselves, so they would stand in line and when their turn came they would present a bolt of cloth, or a bushel of apples or any number of things. Denethor was usually gracious and the gifts ended up piled on this large table beside him. These were common people, you understand, and the things they gave were never really valuable or diplomatically significant. The items represented their labor and were always the result of hard work. Denethor had little enough use for such things, though. What could he do with simple homespun cloth, how many skillfully tanned hides does one man need in a year? No matter how much toil, effort and thought had gone into these presents? At the end of the day, the contents on the table were divided among the palace servants.”

“I love you. I would give you all that I have, all that I am.” Now Faramir did take Aragorn’s hands, bringing them reverently to his lips. “Sometimes though, it seems to me that all that I have and all that I am is like the bushel of apples on that table by the Steward’s chair. You have tried hard to convince me that I am more to you than that, though, I fear, I am quite stubborn. I love you still more for your patience with me. Do not regret to love me for my sake, please.”

Tightening his hands around Faramir’s own, Aragorn pulled the younger man to him. “I’m sorry to be so selfish, Faramir.” Aragorn whispered between soft kisses pressed against the younger man’s hair. “I feel as though I punish you for the things I do not like or understand about myself and I don’t want to do that.”

Maneuvering in Aragorn’s arms, Faramir brought his lips against the older man’s to quiet him. He hated it when Aragorn’s dissatisfaction with himself was so close to the surface. Parting his lips in invitation, Faramir let his head tip back trusting Aragorn to support his weight. After several increasingly deep kisses, Aragorn let the crown of his head rest against Faramir’s forehead. The younger man could feel the ranger’s lashes fluttering against his cheek as their breaths mingled.

“You are not selfish. Too much the opposite, I think.” Faramir announced, his voice low and husky. “Let it be a good thing that I love you. Let it be a better thing that you should place some value on my love.”

“So much wisdom combined with so much beauty,” As Aragorn spoke his tongue darted out to steel a fleeting taste of Faramir’s full lips. “How could I do otherwise than love you? And yet if harm were to befall you through this love?”

A dozen quick answers surged up in Faramir. He wanted to say that there was no harm great enough to outweigh the joy he had from Aragorn’s love. He wanted to say that he was secure and sheltered from all evil by Aragorn’s presence in his heart. Before the words could spill from his lips, however, he remembered something from his conversation with Halbarad. “If it does then it was by my choice and I would not have chosen otherwise.”

Aragorn’s grip around Faramir’s waist tightened for a moment, then slowly eased. “Yes, all right.” The words seemed to have had to struggle their way to freedom leaving Aragorn slumped and exhausted after the battle.

Moving together the two men lay on their sides. Aragorn’s eyes slid closed and Faramir reached toward him, delicately tracing the contours of his face. His fingers traveled slowly over his arms and torso, reverently lingering over every curve and angle. Sometimes he did not even touch but held his hands a few inches above the older man, sensing the heat and the nearness without making contact. Eventually, a small smile tugged at the corners of Aragorn’s mouth and with eyes still closed he took hold of Faramir’s hand as it hovered so captivatingly above his heart and brought it to his lips.

“I love you.” Faramir murmured.

Now Aragorn opened his eyes and met Faramir’s gaze. “I am glad of it for I love you, too.”

Feeling almost gleeful, Faramir wriggled closer to Aragorn winding his arms around the older man’s neck. Aragorn leaned in closer as well. After placing a gentle kiss on the younger man’s lips he then drew back a little touching their foreheads together and brushing their noses together. Unable to contain his grin Faramir’s face crinkled contentedly making him look very much like a cat who smells something interesting.

For a while the two traded playful kisses but soon the kisses grew longer and playfulness gave way to more earnest intent. Aragorn had thrown one leg over both Faramir’s and his hands moved along his ribcage, the thumbs tracing circles around his nipples at the top before moving down again. Minds of one accord, Faramir moaned softly as he turned onto his back while Aragorn adjusted his weight to rest over the younger man. The two men were so absorbed in one another that it took a moment before either realized that their motion had knocked over one of the wine cups.

“Damn.” Aragorn commented, annoyed by the distraction. Fortunately the cup had nearly been empty. A thin trail of red liquid, however, had spilled over Faramir’s shoulder. Aragorn quickly collected the errant wine with a few decisive swipes of his tongue before picking up the cup, rising to his knees and collecting the one that had not spilled.

“Let me get those.” Faramir offered, groping to retrieve the cups from Aragorn’s grasp.

“No, you stay where you are. I have you exactly where I want you and you shall not escape me.” Aragorn commanded grinning wolfishly at the younger man.

Faramir smiled in return but then deliberately twisted his kiss-swollen lips into a delightfully adorable pout. “But how shall I lie idle in bed whilst my lord performs chores that I could easily manage?”

“Ah, but you need not be idle, love.”

“What would you have me do?” Faramir asked. Aragorn had already put away the cups but neither man seemed willing to abandon this thread of conversation just yet.

“Get rid of those trousers.”

Faramir obeyed. Lying on his back, he pushed the cloth down his hips and thighs. Then he turned on his side, facing toward Aragorn, and finished removing the trousers. He put them aside, stretching a little to place them clear of the blankets. Riveted, Aragorn took in every movement. His eyes followed avidly as Faramir raised his hips slightly and they pursued the path of the trousers as they crept down revealing strong shapely thighs. He watched in fascination as Faramir wriggled a little to help free his feet. Aragorn observed the slight flush of color creep over Faramir’s cheeks, down his neck and chest and wondered if it was shyness or excitement or some delightfully Faramir-like combination of both.

“Now, come and help me.” Aragorn suggested, stepping to the edge of the blankets and moving his hands to the waist of his own trousers. Faramir closed the short distance between them on his knees. He undressed Aragorn with gentle hands, then continued to lavish gentle caresses over the bare skin of his beloved. Aragorn felt himself tremble as Faramir’s breath wafted against his awakening cock. Faramir pressed his lips to Aragorn’s navel, licked gently at the jutting bones of his hips and his fingers stroked through the soft hair covering his thighs. There was an expression of bliss on the younger man’s face as he explored his lover that Aragorn found nearly as arousing as the explorations themselves.

There was nothing coy or teasing in Faramir’s attentions, even though he avoided touching the hardening sex that seemed to plead for contact right before his eyes. Aragorn knew that Faramir needed a more explicit invitation before he would lavish his generous affection upon him thus. Countless admonitions that Faramir could always touch him as he liked had not altered the younger man’s behavior. Thinking it necessary to show respect for his beloved Faramir, Aragorn tried to reciprocate. He made efforts to wait for an express invitation before bestowing the most intimate of touches on his lover. This strategy, however, did not have the desired effect. Faramir had interpreted Aragorn’s restraint as displeasure, annoyance or worst of all, anger. The younger man could only be soothed by several demonstrations of completely uninhibited and even aggressive passion. Now Aragorn simply tried to honor what Faramir seemed to want. He would have been loath to admit it, but Aragorn soon found that he could lose himself more completely in Faramir’s touches when he understood that they would go only so far and no further without his active knowledge. In idle moments Aragorn wondered if this happy congruence was purely the result of happenstance or whether Faramir understood more about Aragorn than did Aragorn himself.

Dropping down to his knees so that he was face to face with Faramir, Aragorn drew the younger man’s face to him kissing him deeply. The words `beautiful’, `love’, and Faramir’s own name were being murmured into the younger man’s hair and neck as Faramir felt himself slowly tilting backward. Aragorn cradled his head in one strong hand as he eased them both down until Faramir lay on his back. Grasping at each other, the two men kissed. Faramir used his arms and legs to pull the heavier body closer to him and Aragorn kneaded his way across the wonderfully pliant flesh of Faramir’s chest and belly.

“Love you, Aragorn. Take me?” Faramir’s words came out in a breathy moan as the sensitive buds of his nipples drew tight in response to Aragorn’s thorough handling.

“Ask me again, sweet one, precious Faramir.” The younger man’s words had the effect of a caress over sensitive skin and Aragorn wanted the sensation again- more intensely if he could find a way to have it so.

“Please, I want to feel you inside of me. Take me. Love me. I need to belong to you.” Faramir brought one of Aragorn’s hands to his lips. Drawing a single finger into his mouth, he sucked at it. He stroked it with his tongue as he drew it deeply into wet heat.

“Yes, my heart.” Aragorn murmured. His eyes had drifted shut of their own accord under the combined effects of Faramir’s words and the heat of his mouth. When he managed to force them open, he saw Faramir gazing at him over hollowed cheeks as he drew the ranger’s finger in and out of his mouth.

“Shall we be like this, then?” Aragorn asked straddling Faramir’s thighs in a quick motion. “I should like to see your face as I come inside you.”

Faramir nodded vigorously, drawing in another of Aragorn’s fingers as he did so.

While Faramir nibbled and licked his fingers, Aragorn used his other hand to caress the younger man’s burgeoning erection. When Faramir finally had no choice but to let his head slide back and moan, Aragorn reclaimed his hand letting it slip down his lover’s body. Gently he massaged Faramir’s scrotum before moving further back. Delicately Aragorn used his wetted fingers to slide into Faramir. He worked slowly, never penetrating very deeply.

“Please, love, I’m ready, so ready for you. Let me watch as you take me.” There was a hungry look in Faramir’s eyes as he massaged Aragorn’s neck trying to urge the older man to lean down and kiss him.

In response to the persuasive fingers at the nape of his neck, Aragorn bent forward. He kissed Faramir as though he wished to devour him and the younger man responded with equal fervor. When they broke apart, Aragorn groped for the oil that they kept close to their bedding.

“Here, my heart, do this for me.” Aragorn’s voice was rough with urgent desire as he quickly poured the oil onto Faramir’s palm.

Faramir licked his lips in an unconscious display of anticipation. He rubbed the viscous fluid onto Aragorn’s stiff flesh. He felt the blood beating hot in the thick shaft and felt an answering throb in his own erection. Intent as he was on his task, Faramir did spare a quick glance at Aragorn’s expression. The gleam of rapture in his beloved’s eyes resulted in another surge of blood to his groin.

“Enough, sweet-heart. You overwhelm me.” Faramir’s touches were fast overcoming Aragorn’s self-control. Lying back Faramir raised his legs to his chest. Moaning softly at such beauty arrayed before him, Aragorn kissed his lover.

When the kiss ended, Aragorn guided himself against Faramir’s entrance. The younger man watched in avid fascination as the wet tip of Aragorn’s erection nudged against him. Hand clasped within his lover’s Faramir relaxed into the extreme stretch. Watching as Aragorn slowly disappeared inside him coupled with the burning pleasure of his body’s struggle to accommodate the welcome presence of his lord within him gave Faramir a joy that seemed to stop his breath. Murmuring Aragorn’s name over and over, Faramir urged his lover to venture ever deeper.

When Aragorn could go no deeper, he stilled. He could feel a bead of sweat roll down his back and he saw that a faint sheen of moisture glimmered on Faramir’s brow. Later he would taste Faramir’s clean sweat and sweet skin. Now, though, he could do no more than revel in the feeling of completeness that permeated him. The moment could not endure forever, anymore than a man could hold back the tide and soon Aragorn found himself withdrawing a little from the dark heat embracing only to sink down again.

Faramir quickly found the need to sink his teeth into the back his hand each time Aragorn ended the slow slide within him or else he would lose himself to irrepressible cries of ecstasy. The unhurried pace of the push and pull within him seemed to turn all Faramir’s muscles to quivering jelly. When Aragorn leaned over to kiss him, the angle changed and Faramir felt fire race through nerves already steeped an overabundance of sensation.

Pressing his tongue into Faramir’s mouth in symmetry with the motion of his straining erection, Aragorn felt the slender body beneath him begin to writhe in frantic pleasure at the dual stimuli. Tilting his hips Aragorn increased the pressure with which his penis stroked Faramir’s pleasure center. He was rewarded with a stifled gasp before Faramir redoubled the effort he was pouring into their kiss.

“You feel so good to me, my sweet, my lovely. So good.” Aragorn whispered, squeezing their still joined hands.

Moaning at the words, Faramir returned the pressure. Unable to maintain even the thin illusion of control Faramir surrendered himself to the paroxysms of ecstasy coursing through him. He hoped only to endure the waves of emotion and sensation that surged within him for as long as possible.

Feeling his own control slipping, Aragorn struggled desperately to find completion at the same moment as his lover. Groping between their bodies, Aragorn wrapped strong fingers over Faramir’s weeping erection. “Faramir, love?” He squeezed gently as he watched Faramir struggle to focus passion-clouded eyes on him.

“Yes, Aragorn- Oh!” As Faramir spoke, Aragorn stroked him again, more firmly and everything dissolved into bliss. He felt his release gush from him in seemingly endless ribbons. It was as though he had been made of ice and in less than a heartbeat he had turned to warm water. Indeed, Faramir could well understand how he might have had cause to melt for spirals of searing heat were pulsing into him, marking his insides, transforming him.

Arms shaking from the effort of supporting his weight through orgasm, Aragorn used the last of his strength to ease himself gently back from Faramir. As their bodies disengaged Faramir’s legs dropped weakly to the blankets. Spent, Aragorn allowed himself to collapse beside his lover, reaching for him even as Faramir began to seek his embrace. Arms wrapped around one another, the two men dozed.

Hours later, as Aragorn drifted in between sleep and wakefulness in an exhausted haze of contentment he remembered his conversation with Halbarad and his own tangled thoughts in the aftermath. His friend’s warning to `claim him or let him go’ drew him into greater alertness. Aragorn knew he could not do the former- not yet, but as the comforting weight pressed snugly against his side silently testified neither had he done the latter. He desperately hoped his failure to put distance between himself and Faramir would not come at too great a price. As he pressed a soft kiss against the shoulder of his sleeping lover, however, Aragorn could not regret sharing this closeness for another day.

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