Faramir Fiction Archive

Healing Deep Wounds (NC-17)

Written by Kissa

06 August 2006 | 17701 words

Author: Kissa (kissaperkele@gmail.com)
Pairings: Faramir/Boromir, Faramir/Haldir
Warnings: incest, chan, graphic sex between males, mention of abuse, mention of elf-preg.
Disclaimer: the characters belong to JRR Tolkien, I just play with them a bit and I promise to put them right back. This is all for the sake of good fun, it’s not meant as an offence, please don’t prosecute.

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I

As he entered the uppermost level of the White City, he noticed the unusual silence covering the whole yard like a thick blanket. Fear was drenching the air and it filled his lungs with a vile stench. His heart cringed in his chest and he knew something was wrong, dead wrong.

He had expected a warmer welcome, he had expected his beloved younger brother to run and jump him, prancing around like a puppy in his exuberance, or at least his father, who would be there to praise him for earning more honors for the House of the Stewards and for Gondor.

But there was no one of his loved ones to wait for him. In the council room, he found his father drinking and eating like a hog, as if he wanted to forget something or deal with a tremendous pain. He gave his report to a numb Steward, not even daring to ask about his beloved brother. Denethor only registered his pride and joy of a son had returned and was well and alive when Boromir stopped talking and put the Horn on the table in front of him.

Long hours of talks with his father and dinner with the noblemen of Minas Tirith ensued and Boromir was mortified, the feeling of something amiss never leaving him, coiled around his heart like a serpent in a relentless grip.

Freed at last from the requirements of protocol, Boromir rushed up the stairs to the room he shared with Faramir, eager to check on the nasty feeling that kept bothering him, and to shrug off his stinking, battle-soiled clothes.

He wanted nothing more than to crawl in bed and to soak in his brother’s pleasant warmth, but for that, he had to rid himself of the stench of war and road. He hesitated for a moment before pushing the door open and whispered a small prayer, hoping to see his beloved brother tucked into the blankets.

He did see his brother, but he didn’t like how he saw him. The room, usually appropriately furnished with all the things needed for daily life, now looked like a prison cell. His brother lay directly on a thin layer of hay placed over the stone bed and he was covered in a filthy, rough sack cloth. Nothing else was in the room.

Infuriated, the young warrior got out on the hallway and roared for the servants. He knew why the room had been thus emptied. Denethor wanted to harden his “lesser son” and to make a man out of him. But how to make a man out of a 14 year old boy? And, more important, why?

Boromir, now having seen his nineteenth summer, was already considered a man. He led men into battle and was their Captain. But surely his brother still hadn’t completed his training, he was still a child. Boromir loved his brother dearly and was fighting not only for Gondor, but also to know that his little jewel was safe from the defiling touch of evil. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about ancestors and pride and their noble title, but he would have given the blood in his veins to ensure his brother could still smile innocently to him. And now their father was taking that away behind his back, by treating little Faramir like the shame of the land.

As the servants rushed to see to his commands, he ordered them to bring back all the objects that had been in his room before his departure, to make the fire and to prepare him a warm bath and a set of clean clothes.

The men and women spread quickly to see that his wishes were fulfilled, and he went back into the room to wake his brother.

He watched him as he lay on one side, with his back to the door and curled up in a ball, as if even in his sleep he was afraid and sought protection. He found that his brother had grown, his limbs a bit longer than the last time he’d seen them and a bit more graceful…Faramir was covered in the dirty sack cloth and underneath it, as Boromir touched his shoulder through the fabric, he was ice-cold.

He raised the cloth to find his brother wearing the thinnest nightshirt he’d ever seen; not even women wore that see-through kind of thing on hot summer nights, let alone in the dead of winter!

The warm touch awoke the young lord and made him startle. As he turned and sleepily opened his eyes, he ducked reflexively, as if fearing a strike, but then one of those heart-melting smiles spread on his face as his lips formed his brother’s name.

“Boromir, you’re back!” He almost shouted, sitting up to embrace his brother.

Now Boromir really didn’t like what he saw. His brother, the light of his days, had ugly cuts across one of his fair cheeks and in some places the seal on their father’s ring was imprinted as a bloody, ridged shape. He also had a split lip and even more bruises continued down his throat and disappeared under the collar of the nightshirt. He had difficulty sitting up and Boromir wanted to see him whole, to bitterly assess the damage.

He smiled reassuringly when he saw his brother’s eyes widen in fear at the sight of the grim look on his face, and he brought his hand up to caress the youthful, delicate features, now marked by violence.

“Open your nightshirt, sweet one.” He softly pleaded, and watched in tension as Faramir winced in pain when he raised his arms to bare himself of the thin shirt.

Fearing the worst, Boromir caught Faramir’s smaller hands in his own, stopping them.

“Let me,” he whispered and his heart sank as he saw the complete trust in Faramir’s eyes. A shudder of dread ran through him at the mere thought of what their father could have done to his precious jewel.

As he divested Faramir, he gasped in shock at what he saw. Arrow wounds, two of them, marked one of the small, still round shoulders and shallow, but ugly sword cuts, now healing, stood witness of what Boromir dreaded. When he wanted to remove the shirt from his brother’s back, his fingers encountered something wet and first assumed it was sweat, but then, when the shirt peeled off Faramir’s back, he saw the wetness for what it was. He pulled Faramir close to him, making him straddle his lap and sit down, looking at deep lash marks on the thin, un-tanned skin. His fingers traced the gashes in wonder, feeling their depth and almost feeling the cruelty of each blow.

The Captain of Gondor held his little brother close and he cried in silence, nuzzling the soft auburn curls of the young one’s hair, gently caressing his back in a soothing manner, hoping he could come up with a way to erase the memory of the immense torture. Only traitors were whipped in Gondor, as it was both degrading and painful as a punishment.

He pressed his lips soothingly to his brother’s, kissing him affectionately as he had always done before, with his mouth closed but with lips wet and salty from tears.

“Boromir, I’m so sorry. Father was right, I’m not a man and I don’t deserve to live, let alone to be loved!”

“What happened, my treasure? Who did all this to you?” Boromir asked, already fearing the answer.

“Father sent me to guard the borders with the patrol of Ithilien rangers and we were attacked. We all fought and few of the men escaped unharmed. Father expected me to die there and thus cease to shame him, but when two rangers brought me back wounded but alive, he accused me of backing away from the fight and whipped me for having further tainted his name.”

“Gods, little one, I wish I could take you away with me and keep you safe from his rage and from his foolish words! Never say you’re sorry to be alive! For you see, my beloved brother, if you die, my heart fades with you. Why do you think I fight and go on diplomatic missions to make alliances? Not only for the White City, our home and our people, but because I want to know that every time I come home, my brother is safe and waiting for me. But now I should tend to your wounds, lovely Faramir. I hear rumbling in the room next door, I think the bath is ready. Will you join me, so we can get you clean and see to your wounds?”

Faramir could only nod, overwhelmed by kindness he had not felt for a long time, as the servants were prohibited to talk to him or serve him, by Denethor’s specific orders.

Boromir effortlessly lifted his brother in his arms, planting battle-hardened hands onto the young one’s buttocks and getting off the bed, not before tucking the shirt around Faramir’s hips, to preserve his dignity in case the servants were still in the bath chamber.

Faramir rested his head on his brother’s shoulder and breathed in his manly scent. He wanted so much to be like is brother! Now that he was being held so closely and so possessively, nothing else mattered anymore.

“I’m so glad you’re back, Boromir! You give me hope and strength to resist father’s trials, when you’re here I feel that nothing can really reach us…” He mumbled happily into Boromir’s collar.

Entering the bath chamber, Boromir glared at the servants and they got out, except for a maid who stayed behind to give her lord a jar of healing salve (from his newly arranged quarters where his things had been moved), now finally daring to provide the means for Faramir to be healed.

When even the maid left and they were alone, Boromir put his brother down carefully and stripped him of the blood-stained nightshirt. He also removed his own cloak, chainmail and vest, then told his little brother to step into the tub.

Even as Faramir obeyed his order, he saw the big blue depths pointed at him questioningly and a tell-tale blush as his brother shyly said:
“Boromir, please join me. You are tired and worn from long months of patrolling and fighting, and it isn’t fair that you bathe in my filth…The spare water in the buckets isn’t enough for the both of us to take a decent bath separately.”

Before stripping down to join his brother in the water, having seen the young one had a point, Boromir first locked the bath chamber door, just in case. He didn’t want anyone, especially Denethor, barging in on them and yelling at why Faramir was being pampered.

As the last piece of dirty clothing slid off him, Boromir turned to face his brother and heard a gasp. Faramir was leaning on the edge of the tub and was measuring and admiring every new centimeter of bared skin. His brother’s shoulders had widened and had taken a manly, square shape, his muscles had toned under his slightly tanned skin and his whole body had lost its boyish allure, without losing its grace as it gained in strength.

“Boromir, you are beautiful! I knew I was right to think you are the most handsome man in all Gondor. Will I ever get to be like you?”

Stepping into the tub and settling at the other end, Boromir smiled and said:
“Such things you say, little one, when it is you who are beautiful. My hands are rough from wielding the sword and my legs are crooked for they have taken the shape of the horse. I wish you would see your beauty, my sweet Faramir; you’ve kept so much from our mother’s features! Even among the Elf people who are all a race of fair creatures I have never seen one as alluring as you, dear brother. And you know why? Because your sweetness, your kindness and your sharp wits shine through like an inner light…and because you are MY little brother, who can brighten up my day with a smile. I wish I could always have you like this, small and innocent, safe from all the corruption of the world and safe from father’s abuse. If there was a way to do it, I’d hide you deep within me to keep you safe and close for all time.”

Now Faramir had blushed even more at his brother’s brash, but heart-felt words, which rang more like the words likely to flatter a maiden, as he had read in the books from the library. But it felt good to have someone love him and not be ashamed of feeling those feelings for “Gondor’s shame”, as their father called him. He almost dozed off in the welcoming warmth and perfume of the bath water. He was brought back into focus by the feeling of his brother’s lips on his brow, gently pecking him and moving away the slightest bit, only to say:
“Move near me and sit in my front so I can wash your hair, dearest.” He heard Boromir purr and he obeyed. He was ready to sit on hot coals or onto a spear if his brother told him to, especially in that low, reassuring voice.

They washed each other’s hair and backs, Boromir having to be extra gentle with the whip marks still fresh on his brother’s narrow back. Running his hands on that lithe body, over the soft, still hairless skin, the warrior felt a stirring deep within him, like a need that was fighting to surface from his most secret depths. He had only felt that kind of stirring when accidentally witnessing the coupling between two soldiers on a night when he was inspecting the camp. Then it had been accompanied by a giggle, the young captain finally having discovered that men did it like Rohan horses with their mares…he had laughed at the awkwardness of the act and had noted that couplings between males were not only Elven perversions.

But now the feeling was different, as it was mixing with the strong urge to protect and love Faramir forever. Faramir was HIS little brother, HIS treasure and HIS alone!

Boromir awoke from his distant musings and smiled at his brother, telling him they had to get out of the water before the skin on their fingers and toes rotted away and fell off. Faramir giggled, a bell-like sound that brought great joy to Boromir’s ears and heart. Seeing his brother’s pain had lessened, Boromir rejoiced in hearing his soft laughter because it was as priceless as it was rare. He placed a loving peck on his brother’s full, now warm lips and slid his arms around the lithe form, sneaking his hands under the small butt, lifting him from the water and getting out of the tub.

He dried Faramir’s hair with a towel and used his fingers to comb his brother’s hair, then wrapped him in a large towel while he dried himself. He gave Faramir the jar of salve and told him to hold on to it while he lifted Faramir and carried him back to their room.

The servants had made the fire and had brought back the soft mattress, the clean sheets, the thick warm duvet and two sets of clean clothes, one for Boromir and one for his brother.

Lowering his brother on the bed, Boromir took the jar of salve from him and unscrewed the lid, which released a pleasant floral scent into the room. Faramir’s eyes widened in curiosity as to what that was and Boromir told him it was a healing salve made by an Elven recipe, given to him by Mithrandir. He coated his fingers with it and swiftly began to tend the wounds on his brother’s torso and back.

His brother’s strong hands moving on him so tenderly felt like nothing Faramir had ever experienced. The love his brother felt for him was almost palpable and he began to doze off, the pain in his wounds fading away slowly.

He dimly felt Boromir lie down next to him when he was done with the wounds, and, like many times before in a distant, happy childhood, he snuggled close to Boromir’s large frame, realizing he was in intimate contact with hot, naked skin. Instead of rejecting him, strong arms moved around him, accepting him near and wrapping him in a protective grip, pulling the duvet close to the both of them and Faramir relaxed into sleep completely, feeling safe and loved.

“You are my whole world, Boromir. You are why I still live on Arda,” Faramir whispered right before surrendering to sleep.

“And you are my hope and blessing, little one. I will love you for as long as there is blood in me.” Boromir pressed against the top of his younger brother’s head before he too fell asleep.

Boromir awoke with a start, feeling the shudders coursing through his brother’s slender form and hearing the pained yelp that escaped his brother’s lips. He gathered Faramir even closer and whispered soothing words, gently shaking him awake to help him escape from the nightmare he was having.

Faramir came awake and the first thing he saw was the loving concern in Boromir’s emerald eyes, only millimeters from his face. Boromir trailed his callused fingers over his features, slowly, in a gesture of soothing tenderness and whispering endearments to chase away the memory of the nightmare. Then soft lips came down on his brow, on both his eyes, the tip of his nose, his chin, his lips and then again on his lips in small pecks, but the emotions flowing between them, the love Boromir was giving him flooded Faramir and he almost felt like drowning, which caused him to open his mouth and gasp, thus sucking Boromir’s own breath into his mouth and bringing his brother’s lips in closer contact with his own.

Faramir became suddenly very aware of the hotness surrounding them both, of Boromir’s weight half on top of him and of two quickening heartbeats. It overcame his calm and he surrendered to the crushing feeling, arching his frail body against Boromir’s strong one, his tongue gratefully darting to trace his brother’s lips, which surprisingly opened for him and the gentle peck turned into a real kiss, still tender and healing, only now heated and full of meaning.

Faramir gasped as Boromir moved to let his whole weight rest atop his smaller frame, and his legs unconsciously parted to allow his body some relief from the crushing force from above him. And Boromir’s lips were somehow glued to his, his tongue gently chasing Faramir’s in one mouth, then in the other, caressing it and coaxing unknown responses from it.

Panting, gasping for a breath, Faramir looked at his brother and breathlessly asked: “What are you doing to me, sweet Boromir? Why do you torment me so?”

“I’m showing you my love for you, which only grew while I was away and when I came home to see the strong, beautiful being you’ve turned into. I’m making sure you are mine, although to be quite honest, I cannot fully answer your question for I myself have little knowledge of what I’m doing.”

Faramir relaxed even more in his arms and smiled, that magical smile which quickened Boromir’s entire being and was reserved only for him to see.

“Yes, show me love Boromir, as you are the only one in the world I could ever love. Do what you wish with me, you have me completely and in any way you please.”

But Boromir silenced him with another kiss, and they kissed and kissed and then kissed some more as if the world’s end came the next day. He pulled back and breathed deeply, knowing he couldn’t keep that detail from his brother.

“If I were to try and pleasure us both, it would hurt you, sweet one. Especially since I’m not experienced at this…I’ve only seen it done once by two rangers and they were mating like the horses of the Rohirrim.”

Surprisingly, Faramir wrapped his long slender arms around his neck and prevented him to move away, making their eyes meet and their gazes lock.

“I do not fear pain, Boromir. Were it you who gives it to me, it would feel like the sweetest bliss, and I’m prepared to take everything you have to give me. I know as I’ve never known anything else in my short life that I cannot let anyone other but you touch me thus.”

With those words, he tangled his hands in Boromir’s and kissed him long and deep, then he drew back and added, a hint of mischief in his sparkling eyes:
“Besides, you don’t have to fuck me like the horses of the Rohirrim…surely you can imagine other ways.” He said, gently wrapping his legs around his brother’s waist and giggling.

Boromir’s eyebrows had almost crept into his hairline with surprise. He just stared agape at his now lust-filled brother, who suddenly didn’t seem so hurt and innocent anymore.

“And who taught you this, little one?” He inquired with a frown.

Faramir laughed softly, not a mocking laughter but a reassuring one, and told him he’d found some illustrated manuscripts in the library, dating from Ecthelion’s time and written in Elvish.

“I want you to find your pleasure within my body and make me yours…will you, beloved Boromir?”

All the raging hormones and all the bodily yearnings he had so severely pent up for years unleashed on the spot and suddenly the prospect of sex didn’t appear like an unpleasant obligation to carry out for the sake of Gondor…Boromir realized his possessive way of thinking about Faramir, his dreams of the boy while he was away on campaign were sheer lust, which came only to add itself to the deep bond of love that already united them. Confident that his more educated sibling – as usual!- would guide him, Boromir surrendered to sensation and his mind shut itself in front of every thought or image that wasn’t Faramir.

His well-trained soldier mind raised the objection of morality, but it was soon shushed by a fairly simple reasoning: If Faramir was considered man enough at fourteen to be sent to fight orc patrols and to die, then he was man enough to be made love to, also.

All thought exited his head as he felt Faramir’s sweat-slick body arch into his and rub an incredibly hard member against his thigh. Boromir reached between their bodies with his hand and grabbed the arousal, noting that although Faramir still had some catching up to do in terms of size, his little brother was not so “little” now, but also hot and hard… which was not an unpleasant feeling to his touch. Not at all. He leaned down to capture his brother’s lips again, as if he couldn’t get enough of that sweet warmth, and at the same time began to slowly run his fist up and down the further swelling shaft, sensing his own had stiffened painfully and was leaking embarrassingly over Faramir’s left inner thigh. He went dizzy with further arousal when Faramir reached for his length, traced it experimentally and collected the offending fluid, milking it from him with thumb and two fingers, then reverently brought it to his own lips, closing his eyes as he tasted it.

Boromir felt his face go ablaze seeing his brother’s uninhibited action, and he felt challenged, his hand speeding up its pace over the young one’s shaft and spreading the sticky fluid over the whole length, enjoying the slick feeling of it and the effortless glide. When they were both slick enough, Boromir shifted position a bit, bringing his length to press and slide against Faramir’s, which drew a helpless moan from his brother, who rocked his hips into his own, urging him to move faster.

Seeing Faramir finally lose focus and throw his head back with his eyes closed in abandon, Boromir gleamed with pride, knowing he was the cause of that blissful expression, and slid lower under the duvet, until he was centimeters away from his brother’s arousal. He didn’t allow himself any thought before taking the tender moist head into his mouth, ever mindful of his teeth, not wanting to hurt his beloved. He slowly set about discovering the best ways to pleasure Faramir, and when he looked up he smiled around the cock in his mouth, seeing Faramir had put a pillow over his face to prevent himself from howling his pleasure, afraid they’d alert the guards or worse, their father.

He discovered he could take his brother’s length deep into his throat and that he could flex his inner muscles to massage the head, while his tongue lay flat and wet against the sensitive underside. His hands roamed his younger brother’s torso and sides, for the sheer pleasure of feeling every squirming movement, every shudder he caused in the slender body.

His hands went to cup Faramir’s buttocks of their own accord when he felt the tension gather low in his brother’s body and, with a fleeting, butterfly touch to the small, shallow ridge between Faramir’s balls, he tasted his brother fully as thick, hot seed flooded his mouth. Faramir suddenly felt incredibly alive, throbbing in his mouth, and Boromir was eminently pleased with his first performance of the sort.

Sweet as Faramir tasted, he controlled himself enough to retain a bit of the creamy fluid, letting it mingle with his own saliva as he urged Faramir to settle the backs of his knees over his shoulders, thus giving him a more comfortable way of access to his target. He then threw the duvet off them and aside, wanting to be able to see every detail of his brother’s body and dipping lower between Faramir’s thighs, even as he pulled his pillow from its place and put it under his brother’s hips.

“Boromir…please…I want… Gods!” Faramir gasped as he reached to touch Boromir’s hot and leaking cock, his body now twisting with desire.

But Boromir wasn’t through with his exploration, so he went back between Faramir’s thighs and dipped his head to press his lips to his brother’s virgin entrance, tentatively kissing it first and then gradually slicking it with the mixture of saliva and seed he still held in his mouth. He took a sort of fascination in the idea that he was touching his brother in the most intimate way and making him his, giving him maddening pleasure even as he took his own considerable amount from feeling the tight muscles relax under his slicking assault. Looking up to see his brother writhe and thrash his head from side to side in abandon, he pressed his tongue against the opening and applied some extra pressure until the muscle gave way and he gained access. The body of his beloved almost bolted into the ceiling from the sensation and he continued to coat the entrance until his mouth held no more slickness. He drew away only a bit, only to blow cool air over the sweet hole, and it was then that Faramir begged.
“Boromir, please, make me yours!”

It was a whispered, choked plea that almost made Boromir find his release untouched, then and there. Almost. Instead, he shakily arranged his hips in between his brother’s legs and came up to frame Faramir’s face with his hands, leaning on them as he felt Faramir’s legs tighten about his waist and pulling him inside with one strong jerk.

His lips were on Faramir’s when he felt the violent pang coursing through his brother’s body and he swallowed his brother’s pained cry. They both trembled and Faramir thrashed and writhed under him, but the head of Boromir’s cock was inside his brother’s impossible tight heat, which gripped him viciously, painfully, and Boromir knew there was no pulling out at that time. He could only press further in, which he did, as slowly as he could, trying to give his brother time to adjust to the intrusion. He did his best at distracting his small lover with gentle kisses to his lips, his neck, his shoulders, his chest and with little tender licks and nips on his taut, rosy nipples.

When Faramir cried, tears gathering on his lower eyelids and running silently down his flushed cheeks, Boromir kissed the tears away, stroking his face and chest soothingly as he pushed further into him, until he was fully engulfed by the tight heat and his own balls rested against Faramir’s hot skin. For a few moments, he was extremely still, breathing from deep within his belly, trying to relax in order to give his brother time to adjust. When he felt Faramir’s hips slowly grind against him, he mentally blessed him for ending his torture, for he had to move lest he would die from the need.

He whispered sweet words to his brave little brother and he sat back, gathering Faramir in his arms and pulling him up a bit, so now his angle changed dramatically and he began to drive into the dizzying heat, faster and faster, panting, kissing Faramir every time he managed to take a breath and swallowing his enraptured moans.

“I love you, little one, you are my entire world!” He pressed out even as he was lodged deep within his brother’s body, enjoying the fluttering pull of hot, tight flesh around his member as he drew out to slam back in even harder.

“You are my reason to be in this world, Boromir. I love you more than life itself… yes, fill me, mark me…aaah!!! Boromiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiir!” Faramir managed to press out between the brutal jabs that tore his body in half, the pain mingled with the pleasure so intimately that he could not tell one from the other, as Boromir’s hard-on slid over still too dry inner walls, but also over a secret spot inside him that he feared would bring about his end. His fingers were splayed on his brother’s shoulders and were digging in cruelly, strongly enough to bruise.

Boromir’s hand snaking between their laced bodies and grabbing firm hold of Faramir’s renewed erection was just the right amount of extra stimulation, and it only took three or four strokes before Faramir came undone, his arms dropping from his brother’s shoulders, his head falling back as shuddering spasms wracked his thin body and he tensed like an overdrawn bow before spilling what looked like even the last drop of moisture from his body, coating Boromir’s enclosing hand and their bellies profusely. His inner muscles clamped around the thick shaft buried inside him and as he felt the hotness flood him, he also felt a stab of pain in his neck where his brother sank his teeth in abandon and to prevent himself from shouting loud enough for the Valar to hear.

Boromir lost himself in the pleasurable feeling of being fully inside his brother’s willing body. He knew he had caused pain and he would have regretted it if he had had the ability to control himself at the moment, but he was defenseless against the tidal wave of pleasure that washed over him and caught him unprepared, throwing him overboard even as he felt his cock being rhythmically strangled and milked of every aching drop of seed.

He slowly came back to normal perception of his surroundings, but he was still shaken by his first erotic experience. He looked at Faramir’s flushed face, took in his parted lips, his heavy breathing, his heaving chest and he reached out to touch him, still joined intimately to him and reluctant to leave the sweet tightness…but only until he looked down to where his member disappeared into his brother’s body and saw a reddish trail of what seemed to be seed and blood trickling out. He withdrew hastily and Faramir had to cover his mouth with both hands to keep from screaming in pain, and Boromir watched, horrified, as more blood trickled out of his brother’s molested opening.

“I’m sorry, my beloved. I’m so sorry for hurting you so! I didn’t know…” He whispered in a faint voice, unable to look into his brother’s eyes. He felt a soft hand caress his cheek and guide his chin up, making him look and see nothing but sheer happiness on Faramir’s face.

“I told you I love you, beloved, and I meant it with all my heart and soul. I will treasure this pain forever as it was you who gave it to me and because the pleasure it brought completely overshadowed it. Do not feel sorry, for you have made me the happiest man on Arda. And I have the most skilled lover in all the races.” Faramir spoke softly, his voice still cracking with traces of the tremendous pleasure he had just experienced. His hands rushed to caress Boromir’s muscled chest and to help him lie down. He then settled in his arms, with his head on Boromir’s shoulder and settled in for an hour of sleep before waking time when he heard his brother’s low, rumbling voice whisper coarsely in his ear:
“I would have you be with me the entire day today and further tend to your wounds, as I already want you again. And then I would have you show me this pleasure you speak of and take me in turn.”

All worries of responsibilities and duties fled from Faramir’s mind as he felt himself harden again at his brother’s words.

Yet the blissful morrow never came for the two of them. Boromir was hastily summoned to Denethor’s chambers and sent on a perilous mission, which became another one and another one, having him roam all of Middle Earth to fulfill his father’s wishes.

When he was finally allowed to return to Minas Tirith, he found his little brother gone, and Denethor informed him dryly that the “brat” had been sent to Rohan, to complete his training and to make a warrior out of himself… or at least a whore to the wild horse lords, if not anything more profitable.

Boromir retreated to his private quarters to weep for his little brother, wishing times were different and his brother would not have to struggle to become something he wasn’t cut out to be. Yet he felt good that Faramir couldn’t read the betrayal in his eyes, because if the little one had been there to see him, he would undoubtedly have seen that Boromir had given in to his unbound lust and he had sought the tremendous pleasure in various willing bodies other than his …a fleeting pleasure which had never compared to that of being received in love.

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