Faramir Fiction Archive

Half-Hearted Holiday (NC-17)

Written by Laurëlóte

29 September 2006 | 19511 words

This part was co-written with the very talented Kissa She played Faramir while I took the part of Éomer. So a big thank you goes to her for all her help.

The Epilogue

Éomer smiled as his lover spoke of happiness for their friends and families, it seemed that no matter what was going on in his life, Faramir always put others first. He deserved to be spoiled, and the Rohirrim was going to make sure that he was, at every possible opportunity.

He placed his glass carefully down on the table, and took Faramir’s hand, pulling him gently down onto his lap before slipping his arms around his waist.

“My only wish tonight my love, is to make you happy. Will you let me do that?”

“That will not be such a difficult task to carry out,” Faramir said. “As nothing would make me happier than seeing you happy. Do you have anything particular in mind? A lengthy game of chess, perhaps?” He added teasingly. No way was he going to spoil such a wonderful evening by playing chess!

Wrapping his arms around Éomer’s neck and burying his hands in the soft golden mane, he sighed.

“I still cannot believe you are here with me… It feels like one of my fevered dreams, like the ones I used to have in the Houses of Healing.”

His eyes were sad and his face had a dreamy expression etched on it, but he was also smiling.

To Éomer, nothing had ever felt more right, than having Faramir in his arms, and if he did not do anything else that night, he was determined to, at the very least, remove the sadness which clouded those eyes.

He leant forward and placed a gentle kiss on Faramir’s lips and smiled.

“I assure you this is no dream,” he said softly. “And I am going to make sure that you never forget it. Unfortunately to do that, I am going to have to move you.”

With that he detangled Faramir’s hands from his hair, and carefully slid himself out from under him, ensuring that the Gondorian landed on the soft seat below.

Returning moments later with the bowl of strawberries, he sat on the arm of the chair and took one out of the bowl, making sure that it was covered in the cream he had poured over them, before holding it to the other man’s lips.

With only a moment’s hesitation, Faramir poked his tongue out and licked a wee bit of cream from the tip of the strawberry. Grinning, he looked at Éomer and said,

“This is a mighty huge strawberry!” Then he licked some more cream and wrapped his lips around the fruit cleaning it of the sweet white delicacy. When his mouth retreated, the fruit was cream-free, but intact.

While his favourite horselord was staring and probably wishing he were that strawberry at the moment, Faramir took advantage of the distraction and bit down hard at the base of the fruit, leaving only the small leaves and tail in Éomer’s hand.

“Mmm…” came his verdict after having swallowed the fruit.

Éomer found himself holding a breath as he watched the Gondorian’s skilful tongue remove all traces of cream; the sight was one of pure bliss. Unconsciously his tongue flicked out and moistened his own lip, and moved forward to capture Faramir’s lips once more.

Faramir tasted perfect, his own unique taste, mingled with that of the sweet fruit and the cream. With a soft moan Éomer deepened the kiss, desperately wanting more.

Faramir gasped as his mouth was seized so fully by the younger man. Éomer’s need for him could not be more explicit than that. His mouth was taken, explored – nay, roamed- by Éomer’s tongue and he drowned in how good it felt to actually have Éomer kiss him so… wildly, yet tenderly. They clicked together perfectly, so there was no bad timing, or crashing of teeth against teeth.

Faramir had kissed before and had been kissed by many, but never had kissing felt like making love. Or so… right. In case there were still some hidden reserves he had against giving himself to Éomer completely, they were now gone.

His hands moved forward in search of tunic laces and deftly began undoing them, his mind refusing to get out of the wonderful high Éomer’s mouth had brought about.

Strawberries abandoned on the table, Éomer pulled his tunic over his head, breaking the kiss at the last possible moment. Then remembering the effect it had had on Faramir that morning in the tree house, he started to lick and nibble at his neck, while desperately tugging at his bindings so that he could expose more of the soft, delicious creamy coloured skin. He was rewarded by a soft moan of desire that sounded like heaven to his ears.

Unable to untie one of the laces of his lover’s tunic, Éomer growled in frustration, before pulling hard, ripping the cloth in his fingers to expose Faramir’s lean, muscular torso.

Feeling pleased with himself, he moved to straddle the other man’s lap, although wishing that their positions were reversed, so that he could hold the Gondorian once more in his arms, to run his fingers over every inch of his body, memorising each and every blemish on the fair skin.

“Gods I want you!” he said huskily as he wound his hands in the copper coloured locks before instigating another kiss which demonstrated every bit of need and desire that he felt in his body.

“Then you shall have me!” said Faramir huskily, and in the next moment he reversed their positions, once again surprising the Rohirrim with his hidden strength. Now he was the one straddling Éomer’s hips and before his lover could act he laid himself out over him, letting their bodies touch from chests to toes.

“I want…” he began, stopping to suckle and lick at a surprisingly sensitive patch of skin hidden beneath Éomer’s hair on his neck, “to know what it feels like to be taken… by you.” he spread his fingers and entwined them with Éomer’s, drawing back a bit to look at the effect his words had had on the gorgeous god beneath him.

Éomer groaned as Faramir’s words rushed straight to his groin, his leggings becoming tighter than he had ever thought possible. Seeing the raw desire in his lover’s eyes, he knew that it really was what they both wanted. There would be no more fights for dominance, this wonderful man, seated on his lap, was giving himself to him completely.

The concept was unbelievable, he still did not understand why someone as knowledgeable and considerate as Faramir, would want someone like him. He pushed the thoughts from his mind, wanting his full attention on the other man. He wanted to make this perfect, as everything had been so far. But he could not help but worry that something would go wrong and that he would not be worthy of this precious gift.

Not wanting Faramir to see the worry in his eyes, he turned his attentions back onto Faramir’s neck, nibbling gently from his earlobe to his shoulder. He smiled as the Gondorian wriggled in his lap and whimpered at his actions.

“Eru, your smile..” Faramir said in between laboured breaths. “Shall we take this to a more comfortable place?” he added and nodded towards the bed. With that he stood up and gave his lover a hand too. When he had Éomer where he wanted him, he grinned and fell onto his knees, hands behind his back and unlaced Éomer’s leggings
with his teeth alone.

Once the leggings were unfastened, Faramir stood up again and let Éomer rid himself of his remaining clothes, while he made short work of his own.

Watching the Rohirrim unselfconsciously stand before him naked as on the day he was born, Faramir licked his lips.

‘Now I know why they call him a horse-lord‘ he thought, drinking in the sight of slightly tanned, smooth skin stretched over beautifully sculpted muscles and of course, the one attribute that had made him think of horses at that precise time.

Instead of reaching out to do as he desperately wanted, to touch Éomer all over, he laid himself out on the bed, hoping the sight he presented was an inviting one.

The Rohirrim’s first instinct was to throw himself on top of Faramir; he wanted to touch him, to taste him, to explore every part of the Gondorian’s body. However he fought the urge for a moment, choosing instead to admire the beautiful body from afar.

Smiling to himself as a thought came to him; he picked up the bowl of strawberries and placed them down next to the bed.

Carefully he selected a juicy looking fruit from the bowl, and lay down on his side next to Faramir, before proceeding to guide the strawberry over the Gondorian’s body; down his neck, over a darkened nipple and across his navel, taking every care to see that a trail of juice was left in its wake. When he was satisfied with his path, he followed it with his tongue, lapping up the sweetness in dozens of little licks.

Reaching the nipple, he suckled on it gently, taking pleasure in feeling it harden in his mouth. He pulled away, just enough to be able to blow gently across it, enticing a soft moan from the other man, before continuing along his trail.

Once he had licked up all traces of the fruit, Éomer bit off half the strawberry which was still in his hand and savoured its taste, before placing the other half to Faramir’s lips.

Faramir had been looking at a precise spot on the ceiling, trying hard to focus on steadying his breathing and not making a complete fool of himself by coming the very moment he had hardened. Watching Éomer move across the room, the feline muscles rippling under the shiny, honey-coloured skin thoroughly drawing the full attention and admiration from every last cell in Faramir’s being.

As Éomer shared the enticing fruit with him, Faramir found it profoundly symbolic and stirring… If he could be more stirred than he already was. He had not tasted strawberries many times before. They were a delicacy his father had never allowed him to sample, and in Ithilien there was only a short time right after winter during which wild strawberries grew, but the Rangers had always had better things to do than pick them.

So, to him, Éomer sharing the tasty treat with him held a promise for future happiness he could not even begin to accept as real. It was the reason why not only arousal, but also sheer wonder shone in his eyes when he locked gazes with his Rohirrim lover.

The look in Faramir’s eyes showed everything that Éomer himself was feeling, it seemed incredible that they had gone from despising each other so much, to this. It was true what people said, there was indeed a fine line between love and hate; a line which the Rohirrim prayed that they would never ever cross again.

“I do not ever wish to wake up from this,” he whispered, unable to hide a hint of nervousness in his voice, he was convinced that one day Faramir would come to his senses and leave, and on that day, Éomer knew that his heart would be shattered in thousands of little pieces.

Until then, he was going to look after this gift he had been given, he would worship him and savour every single moment they had together.

Faramir propped himself up on his elbows and sat up, reaching to bury his right hand in his lover’s golden mane, bringing their lips together once more, this time being the one to initiate the kiss… one that left them both feeling like two battling blades from whose clash sparkles flew out.

“You have no idea…” he spoke softly against Éomer’s open lips, “… how beautiful you are and how much I wish we were never parted. I have never felt so strongly about anyone in the past, and there will not be anyone else, my love.” He kissed Éomer again, and again, small shallow kisses full of love and tenderness, feelings that he had kept well under lock and key, knowing that any other man or woman would have laughed and called him soft. But right now he felt this was just what Éomer needed. Straddling his lap, he sat back on Éomer’s thighs and wrapped both arms around his neck, caressing his lover’s hair and scalp. Smiling softly, he looked around hoping Éomer would get an idea of what he was searching for.

It never failed to surprise the Rohirrim that Faramir always seemed to know exactly what to say and do to make him feel better. His honest and reassuring words filled Éomer with the confidence he needed to continue with his explorations.

Gently he nuzzled his nose against the Gondorian’s neck as he wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close, feeling in that moment that he would never be able to let him go. He shut his eyes as his hands roamed the length of Faramir’s back and unconsciously he noted the feeling of every muscle and every scar he found there.

Then using all his strength, he turned Faramir over onto his back, reversing their positions once more, and started to place soft kisses from his neck down to his navel as his hands ran over the back and insides of the Gondorian’s thighs.

Faramir was suddenly hyper-aware of the slight chill in the room, of the air that licked along his skin, making every last hair on his body stand. In contrast to this, Éomer seemed to be warm, hot even, and he longed to feel every bit of Éomer covering him. Gods, how he wanted his gorgeous lover close, as close as possible! The chill intensified and he began to tremble almost imperceptibly, but he knew his lover’s fingertips would pick up the slight shivers.

He looked down at his lover who was teasing the ticklish spots behind his knees and he gasped:

“Éomer, love, you are torturing me… please, stop taunting me.” And with those words he reached for the other man, trying to get up and close the distance between them.

As Faramir trembled, Éomer pulled him closer, wrapping himself around him like a cloak. He wanted to cover the other man completely, as if they were one, keeping him safe and warm.

He teased and nibbled at Faramir’s bottom lip, as his hand found his arousal and moved along its length. He brushed his fingertips across the top, before slowly running his fingers back down and massaging the testes that he found at the base.

Faramir mewled unrestrainedly and he opened his eyes, a mixture of panic and surprise in their wet depths. He knew the slightest touch from Éomer could undo him, but he had not expected it to feel so… frighteningly right. He asked himself fleetingly whether this was what elves felt when they recognized their chosen one.

Éomer fought the urge to taste, reluctant to expose his lover’s body to the cold draft which wafted through the room.

With a sudden laugh, he stood up from the bed, scooping the Gondorian up into his arms. He pulled back the sheets before placing him gently back down and covered him with the sheets, tucking him in.
.
The Prince of Ithilien, now reduced to a quivering, softly begging mess, lay boneless against the sheets and pillows, gasping, opening his eyes even wider if possible, waiting for the touch which was to char him. He could feel the sleek feline contours of his lover against him, sliding ever upward, but he could not see him, and that stirred a strange mixture of primeval fear and excitement inside him. Faramir could only imagine what it would feel like to be filled by the godlike man who, for reasons unknown to him, seemed to desire the steward’s mousy son.

Never had he taken another inside him, as being a leader of men had most times meant being lonely. He had always been expected to assume the dominant, active role, and he had always obliged, not wanting to disappoint. He could only pray that he would not let his apprehension show and rise to Éomer’s expectations. Breathing regularly, he willed himself to relax, wanting his beautiful lover to take as much pleasure from their encounter as he was sure Éomer would give him.

Grinning he covered the fingers of one hand with cream from the bowl, and moved to the foot of the bed, crawling under the covers, kissing his way up Faramir’s legs until he found his prize

He nuzzled his face against Faramir’s arousal, inhaling deeply the musky smell that he knew he would never get enough of, before running his tongue up the length and flicking it teasingly over the slit at the top.

As Faramir groaned and shifted impatiently, he took the erection as deep into his throat as he could. At the same time, his slicked up fingers found the Gondorian’s puckered hole and they danced over and around it.

A loud gasp left Faramir’s lips and he squirmed away a bit, but remembered he had to be calm and gathered his composure, relaxing back into the sheets, opening his legs further. He noted how careful Éomer was, taking his time and in tune to his reactions, ad that made a wave of love and trust wash over him and flow in his younger lover’s direction.

Allowing his lover to thrust into his mouth as he wished, Éomer concentrated solely on stretching him carefully; to ensure that there would be minimum pain when he entered him. He wanted Faramir to be as relaxed as possible before the older man took him, knowing that he would be tight.

Vicious curses slipped uncontrollably from Faramir’s mouth, curses he would never consciously use, that he had learned from his fellow Rangers and that usually made him blush upon hearing them said by another. A small part of him which had remained rational hoped Éomer would see them as a sign of pleasure and not one of disrespect.

Hearing the string of curses from his lover’s mouth amused Éomer terribly, he had never heard him utter such obscenities before, and he was pleased with the effect he was already getting. He pushed one finger into Faramir’s entrance, the way eased by the slippery cream, and he started to move it in a circular motion, stretching the way.

“You are unbelievably tight,” he purred as he felt Faramir tense slightly, muscles clamping down around him. “I can not wait to be inside of you.”

The combination of that voice, sounding like a rumbling purr, and the teasing finger stretching him made Faramir writhe. The pain was not so bad, he had been through much worse, and the loving care Éomer was showing him made it all the more bearable. His lover’s name spilled from his lips like a litany, the word uttered in sheer love and reverence. He still could not understand why someone like Éomer, who could have anyone, had chosen him of all men.

Changing the angle of his movement and curling his finger round, Éomer brushed the bundle of nerves hidden deep inside his lover.

Feeling Faramir relax, the Rohirrim inserted another finger and returned to stretching the tight hole, occasionally causing the Gondorian to buck as he ran them over his prostate.

Éomer found it hard to remain composed; his body was screaming at him to bury himself into the man wriggling beneath him, yet one tiny voice remained, telling him to wait. In his eagerness, he added another finger a little sooner than he perhaps should, and instantly regretted it as Faramir hissed in pain, but he hoped that his lover was becoming just as impatient as he was.

Once he was sure that the preparation had been enough, he pulled away his fingers and turned his attentions to bringing Faramir to his peak before taking the final step.

Faramir had never had trouble going over the edge, as his body had kept its sensitivity as if it refused to acknowledge its owner was no longer a teenager. Sometimes all it took was a few arousing images and Faramir would peak lying relaxed on his bedroll among his Rangers and looking at the starlit sky.

But this was not release as he knew it. It felt like his whole body came alive and then imploded powerfully, almost chasing Faramir outside its flesh confines. He screamed in amazement and collapsed back onto the bed, panting, slowly coming back to focus.

While his lover was coming back down to earth, Éomer reached again for the bowl, smearing cream over his hand, which he rubbed with Faramir’s release over his erection, before repositioning himself carefully.

He pressed the tip of his arousal at Faramir’s tight entrance and looked to him for consent before continuing.

Faramir nodded, still panting, and although there was a large knot in his throat, he resisted the impulse to flinch away, instead putting all his concentration power into relaxing as much as he could.

Slowly he pushed his way in, allowing time for the Gondorian to adjust to the intrusion, before sheathing himself completely. The tight heat which surrounded him was incredible and the feeling pushed all other thoughts from his mind; his body taking over as he pulled back, before thrusting back into his lover, groaning in ecstasy.

“Gods, you are so tight my love,”

Éomer lifted Faramir’s legs, wrapping them around his waist, wanting to feel every inch of their skin touching (each other), devouring his lips in a kiss full of hunger and desire. Never had coupling ever felt so wonderful, or as perfect as it did now, with the man who was now in his arms.

He thrust in and out, slowly at first, but rapidly picking up speed as his body took on a mind of its own, brushing over Faramir’s sweet spot over and over again.

As Faramir’s prostate was relentlessly stimulated, he could not remember his own name or status. All he knew was that the most wonderful man in all of Arda, the King of Rohan, was bent over him, filling him, and that it felt like dying and coming alive all at the same time. He feared for his life when he became aware that his second release was rising over him like a tide that would crush everything in its wake when it fell upon him. He distantly heard wild cries of passion, roars and moans that sounded obscene in his ears, but far away… as if he was hearing them from beyond a thick curtain. It was a long time before he recognized those sounds to be mostly his, as Éomer was most likely concentrating on holding out for his sake.

The sounds coming from Faramir were like music to Éomer’s ears, encouraging him further. He never wanted it to end, but yet he was so close. He knew that he would not be able to withstand this pleasure, and this intensity for much longer.

“Faramir,” he whispered huskily in his ear. “Come with me.”

Like a well-trained marksman, his body began to shiver at Éomer’s whispered request. He soon felt warm wetness coating his belly and the incredible pleasure wave which for only one moment, that to him seemed very long, obliterated his conscience and then brought it back only for it to be fully absorbed into Éomer’s closeness. He could swear he had died and had been resurrected in those moments. His body took its time in cooling down, little tremors wracking him even long before the hot throbbing spurts inside of him ceased.

Moments later Éomer erupted, spilling his seed inside of Faramir, biting down on the other man’s neck as he tried to stop himself screaming out with pleasure, before collapsing on top of the red-head too far gone to be able to move.

As he recovered slightly, he pulled himself out slowly and rolled onto his side, gathering up Faramir protectively in his arms. He ran a hand gently over the mark he had left on the perfect skin.

“Mine,” he whispered softly to himself.

“At last… and for good.” Faramir whispered before resting his head on his lover’s warm, heaving chest.

The two men stayed in each other’s arms for a long while, neither of them wanting to move, neither wanting to risk ruining this night.

“Are you alright my love?” asked Éomer softly, “I did not hurt you?”

“Nah Éomer, you did not,” replied Faramir cuddling up closer. “It was perfect. Just like you. Just like us.”

p=. Fini

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