Faramir Fiction Archive

Mist (R)

Written by Geale

30 September 2010 | 88324 words

I’m happy to tell you that I have finally finished this story. All in all, we will see thirty-six chapters and one epilogue.

² Nana – Sindarin for ‘Mum’. And no mercy for the chair.

Chapter Thirty – Novelties

The library was in more disorder than Faramir had ever seen it before but there was nothing in him that felt the need to protest. The sight of Aragorn and Eldarion working at the same desk, though opposite each other, was enough to make him thoroughly happy. He exchanged a glance with Arwen and guessed that she felt much the same.

They entered silently but the door clicked loudly and Aragorn looked up, confusion replacing surprise in a flash of emotion across his features.

Faramir guided Arwen in front of him and smiled at Aragorn over her shoulder. Her hold on his arm had changed and now she was rather holding his hand and Faramir must admit to himself that he took some pleasure in seeing Aragorn’s expression when the older man spotted this. However, as soon as Eldarion noticed their arrival, they parted and Faramir watched Arwen hasten over to her son.

“Nana?²” Eldarion said with a worried frown, not missing the memory of tears on his mother’s cheeks. “What is wrong?”

She bent to kiss his brow. “I was speaking with Faramir, love,” she said, “and I was reminded of how much I love you.”

The worry seeped from Eldarion’s face until only the frown remained. “Oh,” he said and returned to his book.

Arwen straightened with an amused grimace. Faramir grinned at her and drew closer to Aragorn who was regarding him with raised eyebrows. Coming to stand right beside him, Faramir chanced a small, intimate greeting. He buried his fingers in Aragorn’s hair and explored the skin on his neck, while keeping an eye on Eldarion. He did not wish for actions to speak sooner than words, if that day should ever come that they told the boy. Therefore, just as he felt the first layer of tension yield in Aragorn’s shoulders, he pulled away with a sharp sting of regret.

“So how is your work coming along?” he asked, intending his question for Eldarion chiefly. “And what are you working on, my lord?” he added as he, for the first time, examined the parchments that Aragorn had spread out on the desk.

“I am designing the gardens,” Aragorn smiled up at him. “I thought I might find something here to bring with me as well.”

There was a hint of an underlying suggestion in his words but having no desire to sink down into the slough of despondency again, Faramir ignored the issues he knew had to be discussed at some point. “We will find something,” he said instead and forced a smile.

“You truly have a talent for gardening, Faramir,” Arwen broke in smoothly. She nodded towards the window. “We brought several saplings from Rivendell. I am sure the King would not mind it if we left you a couple – if you could find a spot for them?”

“Of course!” Faramir could hardly hide his gratitude. “That would be wonderful! I would love that.”

Aragorn laughed, a sound that brightened the day immensely. Eldarion glanced up at his father and seemed not to know how to treat this novelty.

“Wild one,” mumbled Aragorn and Faramir felt a rush of heat to his cheeks.

“Well…” he muttered.

“The saplings are watched over by the rest of our party,” said Arwen. “I did not think they would be needed here at the house, but I was wrong. We will sort that out soon.”

“Thank you,” Faramir inclined his head because that was what a Steward should do in such a case. He strongly suspected that he and Arwen were beyond that point.

She only smiled before turning to her son and threading her fingers through his hair. “So, Dari, are you making any progress?”

Eldarion shrugged. “Master Curundil will want more than this,” he gestured at a stack of parchment he had pushed aside. He glanced up at Aragorn. “Father helped me with the chronology.”

Aragorn’s face softened as he met his son’s gaze. “We worked through it together,” he said.

Faramir smiled down at them both, partly unaware of it himself. Then he caught something in the corner of his eye but he was not quick enough to actually see the flash of sunlight that broke through the clouds. It gave him an idea, however.

“Listen,” he said. “I am sure this is important, but this is a rare day without rain and we should take advantage of that.”

All eyes were on him and he pressed on. “Let us find someplace in the gardens where a blanket will not drown and let us eat outside.” He shrugged. “It is early for dinner, I know, but you two need some daylight and fresh air.”

It was hardly an appropriate way to address a King and his son, but Faramir knew he was close to not caring any longer. If it was due to his joining with Aragorn the night before, or if Arwen’s tears had transformed him fully into a friend and not a Steward, he could not say, but he also quickly decided that he would not dwell upon it.

“That is a lovely idea,” smiled Arwen. “And I will not have to change my dress,” she winked at Faramir. “We were walking before,” she clarified when Aragorn frowned, “and the grass was wet.”

“Perhaps…” Aragorn spoke softly, “perhaps I might speak to you Faramir, alone?” He looked up at the younger man.

“Of course… my lord.”

Faramir met the grey eyes and felt the energy balance itself. He had spoken boldly before and engaged in easy conversation, but now that Aragorn wished to see him alone, it was like before, like earlier. But he realised this was not better, only different. He smiled at Arwen and Eldarion as she ushered her son towards the door.

When they had left, parchments and education all forgotten, Aragorn rose from his seat. Faramir turned to him and a sweet wave of joy through his heart made him smile. The older man lifted a hand and cupped his cheek. He stroked his thumb over Faramir’s cheekbone.

“Tell me you do not regret last night,” he whispered and the light in his eyes wavered.

“No,” Faramir leaned in a kissed him. “Never.”

Aragorn brought him close and twined copper locks around his fingers. “You have spoken with each other…”

“Yes…” Faramir inhaled Aragorn’s scent and relaxed into his embrace. “I never thought that would happen.”

Aragorn’s arms wound about his waist. “I will not ask about what, just say that…” he kissed Faramir’s neck, “that I am happy.”

Faramir pulled back and met his gaze. “I am too.”

Aragorn’s hands wandered over his shoulders, explored the linen of Faramir’s shirt almost thoughtfully. “She asked me yesterday if I had come to care for my Steward.” His grin was lopsided. “I said I have always held my Steward in the highest regard.”

“No wonder she asked me, then, for clarification,” said Faramir with a smile. “We spoke plainly.”

Nodding, Aragorn gave a small sigh. “Just as I must speak with Eldarion.”

“You will tell him so soon?” Faramir wondered at the words. He had not expected an admission so quickly.

“Faramir…” In Aragorn’s eyes rose again some of that old uncertainty. “If you wish to keep this a secret…”

“No, no…” His hands slid to Aragorn’s waist. “No… I am surprised, that is all.” He tried not to think about what would happen afterwards, after they knew how Eldarion had reacted, who then would find out. “I thought,” he mumbled, losing a bit of confidence in the face of future public opinion, “you wanted to wait… You are King… I am no white-clad maiden.”

Aragorn did not respond to the weak attempt at jest. “I know,” he said in a low voice. “And I know you said that the people of Gondor does not take kindly to… love between males.”

Faramir nodded, finding nothing to say.

“I am scared too,” continued Aragorn. “So very scared… but I do not want to hide this.”

Closing his eyes, Faramir hoped the world would still for a moment. Aragorn he could handle, and it had turned out that he could handle his son and Arwen too. But the rest of Gondor? This was different from finding a man at the tavern, from having Maelir parade through the house at any given moment, full of life and energy. Maelir was no fantasy… but Aragorn was real in a completely different way.

He drew on his strength, searched for some of that courage he had nourished when he was younger and slipped through the streets at night, making for some temporary lover that would teach him this or that in secrecy. Only this time, it would be official and he would walk with a straight back by Aragorn’s side.

But then he would have to return to the City…

“Aragorn…” He sighed, having finally found the dead end of the trail. Opening his eyes, he met grey ones filled with worry. “You must understand, I cannot leave Emyn Arnen.”

There.

He was prepared for the blow in whatever form it came. But Aragorn only regarded him in silence.

“I know that too,” said Aragorn softly.

Faramir frowned. “You do?”

“I have guessed as much…”

It was as if the room slowly exhaled, and Faramir exhaled along with it. A burden he had not known he carried on his shoulders dissolved into the shimmering air and he found he breathed with ease. “I can visit but I can never live there,” he said, hearing himself for the very first time the words that had up until now only been a silent knowledge in his heart. “But I will warn you, I have not much love for Minas Tirith.”

“It will be a brighter place when you visit,” said Aragorn. “And… if I may come here at times..?”

Faramir smiled. He threaded his fingers through his lover’s dark tresses. “Though I know it is impossible, I will nonetheless ask you to move here, so that you may understand how willing I am to accommodate you.”

They met in a long kiss, and Faramir must hold back lest he should drown in it so deeply he forgot all about dinner. He slid his tongue along Aragorn’s and revelled at the softness and gentle warmth. He caught the older man’s lower lip between his teeth and gently nibbled while Aragorn’s hands were busy at his waist, seeking a way in underneath his shirt. When fingertips brushed his skin, Faramir instinctively moved closer, pressing against his lover. He sucked Aragorn’s tongue into his mouth and elicited a moan from him. Warmth spread through him as hands travelled all the way up his shoulder blades and then slipped back down to his hips.

One kiss ended and the next began as Faramir began toying with time, thinking they might have time for something before dinner. When Aragorn sighed contently into the kiss and his breath tickled Faramir’s sensitised lips, the younger man gave a small thrust of his hips and nearly groaned aloud when he met with Aragorn’s hardness.

“Can we..?” he mumbled as he dragged his lips over Aragorn’s stubbly cheek.

His lover tightened his hold on him and smiled an unsteady smile. “It is your library.”

Faramir drew back only to make sure he could properly see the other man’s face. “So I decide?”

Aragorn closed the distance between them again by dropping a kiss to his lips. “You decide.”

That was too easy. Faramir tilted his head and smiled. “What do you want, if you could decide?”

The faint rising of colour in Aragorn’s cheeks gave him his answer. “Then I would ask you to touch me.”

Faramir took half a step back. He slid his hands down Aragorn’s broad chest and caught the lower hem of his tunic. He lifted it up and pressed one palm against the bulge in Aragorn’s leggings. “Lean back…”

When Aragorn was half sitting on the edge of the desk, Faramir dropped into the abandoned chair. He grinned up at Aragorn who was confident enough to raise an eyebrow. But when the King understood exactly what was about to happen, concentration settled in his features and his lips parted slightly.

Faramir made quick work of the lacings and flicked the fabric aside. He leaned forward and placed a kiss on Aragorn’s hardened member before gripping it at the base and taking the very tip into his mouth. A soft gasp slipped from Aragorn’s lips as Faramir gently pushed down the skin and laved at the slick head. He must place a hand over his own arousal to keep the desire at bay. He pleasured Aragorn with a bit more haste than he preferred but he should already be setting up dinner and this was time boldly stolen. The older man seemed not to mind for although it was evident that he was forcing his moans down, Aragorn shuddered at the treatment and his fingers came to a rest in Faramir’s copper tresses.

The pounding began deep down in Faramir’s groin and he tore at his own lacings to free himself. He took as much of Aragorn in his mouth as he could handle and swallowed, drawing a strangled cry from his lover. Momentarily sidetracked, Faramir swallowed again and felt Aragorn tense. At that, Faramir released him and resumed the fight with his own clothes. When he could finally wrap his hands around his own length, Aragorn had drawn a few breaths and his arousal was weeping. Faramir licked the drops away and once more descended upon Aragorn. He teased the slit at the tip and then he felt the violent tremble that raced through his lover and a moment later, Aragorn climaxed with a deep moan.

Faramir kissed the twitching flesh and smiled. He was expecting Aragorn to recover his breath and was utterly unprepared for when he moved instead. The older man steadily stepped aside and sank to his knees beside Faramir. His eyes were blazing and his lips were parted. Faramir made to lean in and kiss him but the other man shook his head.

“Can I…” his voice was close to a whisper, “can I taste you?”

Taken aback, Faramir could only stare at him. He hardly noticed the thrill of excitement that hung onto his shoulders, sprang forth from the corners and wrapped around the bookcases.

“I know you do not like dry hands,” mumbled Aragorn.

“But..?” Faramir searched for coherent speech. “You do not need to…”

Instead of answering, Aragorn urged Faramir to release his own member. Desire mounted quickly at the sight but it was tempered by doubt.

“Aragorn…”

The King smiled up at him. It was a shaky smile and his eyes shone with a mixture of panic shyness. “Let me try.”

Abruptly rendered mute, Faramir nodded. He wished he could see better when Aragorn bent down and licked a first tentative wet stripe with his tongue tip along his length. He drew a sharp breath but then he breathed no more as he waited for Aragorn’s verdict. But when none came and instead a trail of kisses melted into his heated flesh, he slowly exhaled. Faramir knew not how to relax in this moment; he could not process what was happening and he mentally shoved at the eagerness shimmering around him. This, he wanted to experience alone.

Aragorn circled the base of his member with his thumb and forefinger and just as Faramir had done with him, he took the tip of the younger man’s arousal in his mouth. Now Faramir saw better and he genuinely feared any sign of distaste on Aragorn’s face. Had it not been for this, he would have come undone at the very sight of Aragorn’s lips on him, but he was too nervous to fully appreciate what he was seeing.

It was not Aragorn’s lips but his fingers that pushed back the skin but to Faramir it made little difference. His own moan reverberated around them as Aragorn’s lips slid lower and Faramir felt, and saw, himself disappearing into wet warmth. His eyes stayed wide open as Aragorn explored his flesh without taking him very deep but with enough determination to apply some pressure. Faramir felt the chair dissolve as Aragorn kept up his ministrations and steadily he was dragged towards the edge.

“Now,” he breathed and Aragorn let him go and he climaxed all over his lover’s hand. Had Aragorn been more experienced, Faramir would have lost himself sooner, but when he now came it was a pleasant drawn-out sensation that felt like a long shudder, and it left him deeply sated and relaxed.

As the velvety numbness spread through him, he slid down in the chair and closed his eyes. Aragorn shifted beside him and let go of his softening length. Faramir smiled through the haze that had enveloped him, “Come here.”

Even while partially lost in the aftermath, Faramir knew what was rushing through Aragorn’s mind and heart, or at least he could guess. He reached out and felt the other man come close. He sought out swollen lips and offered a kiss that started off as a stumble but ended in peace.
Faramir opened his eyes and met a sweet sight. Aragorn looked thoroughly shaken and wonderfully bewildered at his own boldness. He was seeking the reassurance Faramir was more than ready to give.

“Thank you,” he smiled, and his smile only broadened when Aragorn blushed.

“I will have to practice, I did not know what to do.”

Faramir pushed himself up “You did so well,” he said. “But you may practice as much as you like…”

Aragorn glanced down at his hand. “I did not know how to…”

Faramir followed his gaze and saw his own white release still coating it. “We should get you cleaned up,” he said. He lifted a hand and urged Aragorn to meet his gaze by tipping his chin upwards. “Not everyone likes doing this… not even males who sleep with other males. I do not expect you to do it.”

A faint smile was painted on Aragorn’s face. “I do not think I shall ever take another lover… if you have chosen me.” A hint of awe crept into his eyes. “Will you let me try your world?”

Faramir brushed a thumb over his lower lip. “I will not stop you, my King.” He was powerless against such beauty. “I choose you.”

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