Faramir Fiction Archive

In His Gardens (NC-17)

Written by Nissi

14 November 2006 | 5431 words

Chapter 2: Naming the Stars

Faramir and his husband laid side-by-side upon the grass on the edge of Boromir’s memorial in Emyn Arnen, nude beneath a thick wool blanket, gazing up at the stars. It had been many months since Boromir’s inexplicable appearances began, and whether they were genuine or pure insanity Faramir never knew. Faramir never cared.

Faramir’s home was empty save for the couple. They had taken advantage of the situation to disrobe and run into the garden, Boromir chasing Faramir until they collapsed upon the green, laughing heartily at their childishness. There had been few such playful encounters for them in the last years of Boromir’s life.

Boromir clasped Faramir close to him, feeling the tickle of his younger brother’s chest hair upon his skin. “Tell me the name of that star again?” he asked, nodding to a particularly large white star.

Faramir smiled and kissed his lover’s brow. “You know its name perfectly well. But you are sweet to humor me.”

“I love the sound of your voice, Faramir. I would encourage you to speak of anything simply for the opportunity to hear its dulcet tones,” Boromir enthused in reply.

“Is that why you let me read you poetry?” Faramir asked with a grin.

“Aye, that and I always hope you’ll give me something generous to show your appreciation,” Boromir quipped.

“Generous? Like…” Faramir thought a moment. “A new suit of armor? Or perhaps your own enormous dwelling here in Emyn Arnen? Or perhaps a new steed, finest Rohan stock, donned in a freshly-tooled saddle?”

“Generous like this,” Boromir said with a mischievous glint in his mossy eyes as his lips descended to capture Faramir’s, engaging his lover in a breathtaking kiss.

“So,” Faramir swallowed as the kiss broke. “Not quite as generous as a house…”

Boromir laughed at Faramir’s determined play. “Generous like this,” the older man began anew, kissing a line along Faramir’s lightly-bearded jaw, down the graceful line of his neck, and across his chest. Boromir stopped to tease one of Faramir’s nipples with the tip of his tongue.

Faramir squirmed and bit his lip. After a moment he continued, “Perhaps not as generous as a new suit of armor…”

“Generous like this,” Boromir growled as he drew his tongue down across Faramir’s stomach and abdomen. He kissed his navel as his hands nudged apart the younger man’s legs and traced the slope of his inner thighs with feather light touch.

Faramir moaned softly. “Definitely not as generous as a Rohan horse with a new saddle. I’m afraid, my love, that leaves me with nothing suitable to give you. I am a pauper for gifts of a less generous nature.”

Boromir smirked as he took hold of Faramir’s hand. “I think what you have to offer me is no less generous, darling husband. It will not cost you a thing, and you will be able to see my satisfaction immediately.”

Faramir hmm’ed thoughtfully. “What is this marvelous gift that will make you instantly happy and cost me nothing? Sounds appealing. Economical. Efficient.” He grinned and chuckled lightly.

Boromir pulled Faramir’s hand down to the older man’s raging erection, hissing when his lover’s palm made contact with his hard shaft. He wrapped Faramir’s hand around his cock, making a fist, and righted himself to gaze deeply into Faramir’s eyes.

Faramir’s face lit with understanding. “So that is what you desire. Well, at least I know what to give you for your next birthday…” Faramir teased, withdrawing his hand.

“Tease!” Boromir growled, launching himself at Faramir and pushing the younger man onto his back. Boromir climbed atop him and pinned him to the ground. “I’ll have my gift now,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Will you?” Faramir challenged, a mischievous smile upon his lips.

Boromir ground his erection against Faramir’s own rapidly-hardening cock. “I will, my little brother.” He leaned in and caught Faramir’s earlobe between his teeth, nibbling with a fair measure of roughness.

“But your birthday is months away. We cannot celebrate too soon!” Faramir wriggled underneath his love.

“My death date approaches. Perhaps a conciliatory effort to hold me off until the celebration of my birth?” Boromir joked. But when he felt Faramir tense he knew he’d taken the play too far.

“I’m sorry little brother, I’m sorry,” the older man repeated, raining small kisses onto Faramir’s face. “I did not intend to sadden you…”

Faramir forced a strained smile. “It will always take…adjusting. Learning how to live with the fact that you’re dead. But you’re here. You’re so real…” Faramir reached up and ran his fingers through his lover’s hair. “There was so much pain, so much pain. But you have taken it away.”

Boromir nuzzled Faramir’s neck. “I would take any hurt from you, Faramir. I would shoulder any burden to keep you happy, and to keep you in peace.”

“And you know we require no special reason to ‘celebrate’ with intimacy, or to give one another the ‘gift’ of pleasure. I want nothing more than to feel you, Boromir. To feel your skin against mine…your lips upon mine…our limbs entwined as your slip inside of me, making me yours,” Faramir concluded.

“You are mine,” Boromir murmured. “And I belong to you, too. I will show you. The stars will be witness to the power of my love and passion for you, Faramir. The stars will see how hungrily I consume you in the union of our bodies. The union of the Two Brothers…”

Faramir continued to slide his fingers through Boromir’s hair. Moved by his husband’s words he lifted his head resolutely and pinned his lips to Boromir’s, igniting an explosion of want and need expressed in the thorough, desperate exploration of one another’s mouths.

There were no more words exchanged, yet they each knew what the other was thinking. Beyond the mere reveling in the closeness they were feeling, the freedom that allowed them to make love in this way, and the sheer power of one another’s presence, their thoughts were occupied with memories.

Memories of an encounter long ago, after Boromir’s crisis of faith by Finduilas’s grave.

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