Faramir Fiction Archive

My Brother, My Captain, My King (NC-17)

Written by Bijou

24 June 2006 | 4410 words

Authors: Bijou
Pairing: Faramir / Boromir / Aragorn.
Rating: NC17
Warnings: incest, spanking, **out of canon** :D
Beta: the wonderful Helena Snow-Renn
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, it’s just for fun and no profit is being made. These characters belong to Tolkien. I only love to play with them once in a while.

Author’s Note: written for the FaramirFiction Midsummer Swap.

Requested by Iris: NC-17 Aragorn / Boromir / Faramir threesome, with Faramir topping at least once.
Possibly (preferably...) with voyeuristic elements, e.g. couple + voyeur resulting in threesome, or otherwise a fourth party observing the threesome

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Faramir knew that he should be grateful. His brother was back and he had brought the king with him. The king who had saved Gondor and Boromir’s life. They had told him the whole story about the orc attack, the arrows in Boromir’s body, how Aragorn had defended him and afterwards took care of the wounds, working his healer’s magic on the Gondorian warrior.

Faramir should worship Aragorn, should thank him on his knees every single day because he had brought back his beloved brother to him. But instead, Faramir was jealous. He and his brother had always been close. But now there was Aragorn, their king, and from what he had learned immediately after their return, his brother’s lover.

All his life Faramir had adored his brother, and likewise Boromir had always cared deeply about him. But now there was somebody else, somebody who was first in his brother’s life, somebody who’d lay down with him and bed him at nights.

He watched them day in day out, not able to tear his eyes away from them. Both warriors, both proud and powerful but extremely tender and loving when they shared a minute in private. At night Faramir would lay awake, some times crying himself to sleep. He had never felt so lonely in his life. Even the presence of his always unjust and mean father was better than this loneliness.

Boromir on the other hand had no idea what was wrong with his brother. His behaviour was totally uncharacteristic. Boromir hadn’t even had the chance to take his brother into his arms since he had returned. Truly, Boromir missed his brother, at least the one he had left before he had went on the quest. He blamed it partly on Denethor’s death and the way he had almost taken Faramir with him. He knew that Faramir had loved his father, so this could have been the final straw. He needed to talk to him in private, but every time he tried Faramir made his excuses and left.

Aragorn watched them both from afar. Faramir was not in the least similar to the person Boromir had talked about so often about on their travels. And since he believed Boromir, that meant there had to be something wrong with this young man. He still hadn’t totally recovered from his wounds, the one Aragorn had tended to in the Houses of Healing. But there was more. Faramir didn’t eat regularly. In the morning, often enough his eyes were swollen and red. He couldn’t concentrate, and often enough obviously nervous. And maybe Aragorn was the only one who saw the little traitorous glances of jealousy Faramir cast towards them when he held Boromir in his arms.

He was sure that there was more involved than just brotherly love, at least when it came to Faramir. His longing--and maybe also desire--was nearly palpable. It wasn’t for nothing his foster father had taught him a lot about people’s feelings and the respective signals. He could clearly recognize the love in Faramir’s expression and often enough wondered why Boromir was so oblivious. Didn’t he see, or did he only not want to see?

One night, Faramir had to return to the throne room to collect some papers. Although his brother was the Steward now, he still helped him with the paperwork. He had done this for his father before and really didn’t see a reason to change that. Times were peaceful so he didn’t need to spend so much time with his rangers.

He was just about to leave the room again when he heard laughter coming from the corridor. Two familiar voices were coming nearer and his escape route was cut off. Well, he could have simply passed them, excusing himself. But from the tone of their voices, he heard more than laughter involved and Faramir couldn’t really face this without blushing and being intimidated again. Apart from his jealousy, any views of sexual activities always made him insecure. Even in all his days as a ranger there had been nobody to share his bed, neither man nor woman. If he couldn’t get the one he really wanted, he didn’t want anybody.

The voices came nearer and hurriedly Faramir rushed behind a thick curtain, hiding himself. He could see how Boromir and Aragorn entered the room, already engaged in a passionate embrace and kiss. He heard Boromir's moans and these sounds immediately wandered to his own groin, making him ache with need.

The two older men started to divest each other of their heavy clothing, totally unaware that they weren’t alone in the room. They were standing close to the curtain. From his hiding place, Faramir could see the naked back and ass of his brother. He gulped, straining to hold his hands behind his back so he wouldn’t accidentally touch his elder brother in a most inappropriate way. His king was naked and absolutely gorgeous, too.

Faramir watched how Aragorn led Boromir to the throne, made him sit down, and then sank down onto his knees in front of him.

Faramir couldn’t clearly see what was going on, but from Boromir’s loud moans and the smacking noises Aragorn was making he had a good idea. From afar he could see how Aragorn placed Boromir’s legs on the armrests of the throne seat, leaving his brother wide open. And then the king pushed forward and Boromir’s head fell back. Faramir had enough knowledge of the act itself to realize what they were doing. He whimpered softly. His hands behind his back were grasping each other harder in his desperation to touch himself.

Boromir chanted Aragorn’s name and Faramir wished so much that it was his name on the lips of his brother, but that would never happen. The two men cried out together, obviously nearing their peak(s). Then there was a loud curse from Aragorn, followed by a scream from Boromir, and both men sank down onto the chair, exhausted and satiated in each others arms.

Faramir was in a most unpleasant state. His cock was aching and one of his legs was beginning to cramp. He was sweating profusely, afraid to give himself away. He made small timid moves with his feet, but the cramps were getting more painful. He was so occupied with his problems that he wasn’t aware that he was whimpering softly. When the curtain was suddenly drawn back, he shrieked. A very naked and very annoyed king stood directly in front of him.

“Faramir,” he hollered, having problems hiding a smirk when he saw the pitiful state the other man was in. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Blushing, and with his head held low, Faramir stumbled into the middle of the room.

“I came here for some papers, “he murmured, not daring to look at the king or his brother, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to eavesdrop…may I make my excuses now?” Crimson red, he bowed down and then turned, ready to leave through the door.

But Aragorn didn’t let him go. “Wait! We’re not ready…” He exchanged a quick glance with Boromir, who had no idea what was going on.

“Come here!” Aragorn ordered in his king-like voice. Although he was naked, he was still utterly intimidating and Faramir hobbled over to him. “I’m sorry, my king,” he murmured.

“Look at me!”

Blue eyes came up and for a second Aragorn lost his posture. This man was truly beautiful but he needed a lesson. Probably both of the men of Gondor did.

“Since the first day I came here, you haven’t shown me any respect at all.” he growled.

Faramir staggered, standing on one foot, still trying to get the cramp out of the other leg.

“I’m sorry, Sire,” he uttered again. Slowly he turned around, his eyes silently pleading with his brother for help.

Boromir approached the two of them. “Aragorn, my friend,” he begged softly.

“You wanted to say…?” Aragorn hissed. “Am I not right? Did he show enough respect to his king or to his brother? And now today he was also spying on us…”

Boromir was at a loss for what to say and shook his head. Maybe Aragorn was right after all, and they’d finally hear what was wrong.

“So what would be the equivalent punishment for disrespect towards the king of Gondor?” Aragorn demanded to know.

“Ten lashes with a whip,” Boromir answered quietly.

“Ahhh…I think a spanking will do…” Aragorn replied immediately and then realized the relieved looks on his steward’s and lover’s faces.

“Go and sit back on the throne!” he demanded of Boromir, and then pushed Faramir forward with him.

“Pull your leggings down!” the king ordered.

Faramir looked at him disbelievingly. He was still hard and glad that his tunic covered it but they’d both see his arousal when he pulled his leggings down.

“I can’t…” he stammered.

Aragorn approached Faramir slowly, starting to fumble with his breeches. “You will obey your king, won’t you?” he whispered into Faramir’s ear after licking the shell softly.

Faramir only turned his head away; mortified and aroused to his limits, he gurgled low in his throat when Aragorn divested his straining flesh of the surrounding confinements.

Therefore he missed the appraising looks the king threw at his hardening member.

“Now you’ll lay down on Boromir’s lap…he’s going to hold you for me…!”

This time it was Boromir’s turn to protest. He really wanted to spare his brother this kind of mortification, but Aragorn silenced him with a nod.

Only, Faramir simply refused. He was still standing there with his leggings rolled down to his ankles, looking everywhere but avoided to meet their gazes.

“Faramir!” Aragorn’s voice became more threatening. And when the younger man still didn’t react he pushed him forwards until he stumbled and landed directly in his brother’s lap with his face towards the floor.

Their cocks met and Faramir gasped at the contact, shortly followed by a moan from Boromir. Feeling his brother’s flesh made him instantly hard again. But this wasn’t right…this couldn’t be…it was his brother…!”

Aragorn shot them both a knowing look. At least their bodies were able to understand, but it would probably take a little more effort to make their minds understand as well. Especially Boromir was a difficult case.

Faramir was squirming on Boromir’s lap, trying to avoid further contact.

“Hold him down,” Aragorn hissed, using once again all the power he’d learned as a ranger to be convincing.

Boromir complied, but his grip was more a caress than a strong hold. He feared for his brother because he had already suffered so much, and now he had no idea what was wrong with Aragorn, why he’d be this outraged.

“Faramir, you’re going to count…” Aragorn demanded, and the younger of the Gondorian siblings nodded mutely. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done that before.

Aragorn’s hand reached out to him and gently caressed Faramir’s backside but then without a warning he slapped hard, making the younger man gasp loudly.

“One,” a timid voice arose, but apart from that no sound was heard.

Another slap, which pushed Faramir closer to his brother’s body and both men gasped; they had hard time deciding if it was from pain or pleasure on Faramir’s behalf.

Nearly all the blood in his body rushed to Faramir’s groin. The pain was still bearable but he hard to concentrate hard not to grind his hips further into Boromir’s tempting heat. Never before their naked bodies had been so close.

“Two,” he whispered, almost having forgotten about the order.

The next five slaps came rapidly and Faramir had problems keeping up with the pace. “Seven,” he finally was able to get out in a voice close to tears. The ache in his backside was nothing compared to the ache in his groin. He was close to exploding, and hoped that he could simply hold out for a few more minutes. Surely it would be over then and they’d let him go.

Boromir was close to tears, too. He didn’t want to see his brother suffer, and he couldn’t understand why Aragorn was doing this. Okay, Faramir had been pouting around for the last weeks, but that really wasn’t good enough for punishment. And beneath all the pity and sorrow for Faramir, there was another feeling underlying it all. The heat emanating from Faramir’s body awoke feelings in him he’d hoped he had put aside years ago. The constant rubbing of Faramir’s flesh against his groin didn’t help either.

“Eight!” Faramir whimpered.

Aragorn stopped for a moment. “Will you tell us what is wrong now?” he growled.

But Faramir remained stubborn. What could he say, anyway? That he was in love with his brother? That he envied their relationship? They’d be disgusted with him on the spot, just like his father had.

The next slap. Faramir could sense the tell-tale signs of a fast-approaching climax. Please let it be over soon, he whispered to himself.

“I didn’t hear you…!”

“Nine!”

And then came the last blow and Faramir was lost. “Ten.” The word died on his tongue and grew into a scream when his body went rigid and his seed spilt all over his brothers lap, accompanied by the violent shudders of Faramir’s lithe body.

Immediately Aragorn’s hand was on Faramir’s back, rubbing it in soothing circles. “You did beautifully, Faramir!” he whispered.

Boromir couldn’t comprehend what just happened. Only the wetness on his groin made him realize that his beloved little brother had just come.

“Aragorn?” he asked.

“Can’t you see, Boromir ?”

“What ?”

Aragorn rolled his eyes. What more did it take for Boromir to realize and finally admit his feelings? And then he suddenly had an idea.

He took the vial of oil they had used before and lubed his fingers with it. Then one finger gently wandered down into Faramir’s crack, massaging around the puckering hole. Faramir, still in his aftershocks, gasped loudly, his just spent member awakening again, brushing against the equivalent hardness in his brother’s groin.

“Will you give your brother to me, Boromir?” Aragorn whispered, watching his lover intently. Faramir gasped anew and Boromir only stared at Aragorn, not quite understanding, what his king wanted from him.

Slowly Aragorn slid his finger into the hole in front of him. He could immediately feel the clenching heat, accompanied by a loud groan from Faramir.

“Will you give your brother to me?” he repeated, stressing every single word. “Will you give him to me to welcome and accept your king?” he added.

Boromir looked back and forth his gaze wandered to Aragorn’s face and then back to the rear of his beloved brother where a long finger slowly disappeared and reappeared from a slick opening.

“I…” he finally stammered.

“What?” Aragorn snapped.

“I…I can’t!”

“Why not? Don’t you love me enough?”

“I do…but…I can’t give him to you…I simply can’t…”

“Why not?” Aragorn pressed.

“Because he’s mine…because I love him,” Boromir finally sobbed out.

Aragorn’s free hand came up to gently cup Boromir’s chin. “I know,” he murmured and kissed his lover’s eyebrows, “I know…and he’ll be yours.”

Meanwhile Faramir had started to shake badly. Immediately Boromir’s arm supported his brother in his lap. “Do you want that, too?” he asked gently.

There was no response but a nearly invisible nod, but Boromir could feel how Faramir’s aroused body pressed closer to him. Aragorn coated Boromir’s fingers thoroughly and then he guided his hand close to his own. “Come on; join me in preparing your soon-to-be-lover for you!”

Tentatively, Boromir let one digit slide into Faramir’s tight channel alongside Aragorn’s. Faramir arched up and both of the elder men could feel the clenching of Faramir’s muscles.

They worked their fingers simultaneously, searching for the spot that would make Faramir scream in pleasure. They knew they had found it when a loud groan accompanied the bucking of Faramir’s hips against their fingers. His hands clenched into tight balls and visible shudders were running through Faramir’s whole naked body.

They repeated their ministrations, making Faramir seeing stars. He screamed nearly without a break, desperately begging them to stop because he couldn’t bear it any longer. Immediately the fingers left his body. Aragorn helped him up until he could face his brother.

Faramir’s face was flushed all over; his blond curls were hanging in his face. He panted but when he was able to look up, he realized the mirrored desire in the eyes of his brother. Aragorn supported him from behind, afraid that Faramir would drop over backwards at any time.

“Boromir, I need you so badly,” Faramir sighed and then he bent forwards. His kiss was shy, nothing more than a slight touch of lips. But then, after he realized that Boromir didn’t push him away, he claimed his brother’s lips again eagerly, like it wouldn’t only be the first but the last time as well.

Boromir’s breath caught in his throat; his heartbeat grew erratic. These were the softest and gentlest lips he had ever tasted. Automatically he opened his mouth under his brother’s onslaught and at once there was Faramir’s tongue in his mouth, first hesitantly but then sucking at Boromir’s as he nearly crawled onto his elder brother.

“Hey,” Aragorn whispered, chuckling, “Would you please let him live…I might still need him!”

It was Boromir who finally broke the kiss. Coming up for air, Boromir’s pulse throbbed heavily, his chest rising and falling with the force of his panting. Faramir’s hands worshipped Boromir’s body with his hands as if to explore every single spot, now that he finally could.

“Please…make love to me…fill me!” he begged.

“Have you ever been with a man?” Aragorn asked from behind.

Faramir shook his head. “I never wanted anybody else! And I don’t care if it’s going to hurt.”

“But we do care, little brother,” Boromir replied, squinting at Aragorn over his brother’s shoulder, thankful that he saw a determined nod.

“We do!” Aragorn agreed, “We’ll make this first time so good for you that you’ll never forget!”

He took the vial again and applied more oil to his fingers. His other hand stroked Faramir’s shoulder and then it wandered down over his spine, resting a few minutes on Faramir’s lower back, caressing the younger man softly before sliding down his crack, opening his lower cheeks with his thumb before he gently pushed two oiled fingers inside the opening again.

Faramir arched forward, but Boromir held him firmly in place. Another kiss before his tongue travelled lower, down Faramir’s throat, licking at his Adam’s apple and then all the way down to suck greedily on one of his younger brother’s nipples.

The double assault was nearly too much for Faramir. His head fell back. He was gasping for air. Aragorn’s arm moved around his waist, supporting him with his hand flat on Faramir’s belly. Every time he felt the traitorous constricting of muscles, indicating that Faramir was close, he stopped his movements, soothing Faramir with gentle caresses.

This treatment was repeated again and again. Any time Faramir got close to losing it Aragorn would stop, still his fingers, and whisper sweet nothings into Faramir’s ears while Boromir’s tongue further explored the body of his brother.

Finally the younger Gondorian brother was nothing more than a needy and whimpering mess, wailing constantly, his flesh leaking profusely onto Boromir’s belly.

“Please…please, I…I need to come,” he was able to articulate with his last coherent sentence, making Boromir’s cock twitch in anticipation.

“Just one more.” With that, Aragorn added a third finger. Faramir’s body no longer offered any resistance and they slid in easily, buried to the first knuckle.

Aragorn scissored his fingers more, until he was sure that Faramir was be properly prepared. He reached through Faramir’s legs and smeared the rest of the oil carefully onto Boromir’s cock. The hardness he found there and the moans of delight from his Steward showed him that Boromir was close, too.

“Are you ready?” he whispered, meaning both of them but not really expecting an answer. Nevertheless, he got two needy moans in return. Knowing that they were already too far gone to coordinate their movements, he carefully guided Boromir’s cock to Faramir’s entrance. When the younger man finally sunk down on it, sighing deeply, Aragorn sighed, too.

He still guided Faramir’s movements to make sure that he wouldn’t be hurt.

The entwined bodies of the two of them made a beautiful picture. Deep down in his heart, Aragorn knew that they shared a bond he could never compete with. But it wasn’t a sad thought; it was just the fulfilment he wished for them and was lucky to witness.

Faramir felt full. There wasn’t any pain, only a slight burn, and he knew that he had Aragorn to thank for that. His king, and definitely so much more, the person who made his wildest dreams come true... He’d thank him - later on. But right now he was too distracted by Boromir’s hard flesh inside him and the gorgeous face of his brother in front of him. His hips moved automatically; although it was his first time, everything came naturally. Feeling his brother inside him was his completion, the prize he had longed for all his life.

Boromir felt like he’d come as soon as he entered the tight passage of his brother. He was a little bit worried to hurt him but since there were only signs of ultimate pleasure in Faramir’s expression, he moved slightly, supporting the movements of his brother.

It didn’t take them long to come to the point of no return. Gasping loudly, Faramir’s body tensed up and then he crashed down in his brother’s lap, his internal muscles milking Boromir’s flesh for his essence.

In the end, there was a heap of human bodies on the throne, and Aragorn had to chuckle again because one couldn’t see where the body of one brother ended and the other began.

He let them calm down again, his hands caressing them both. When he was finally sure that Faramir wouldn’t instantly fall from his brother’s lap, he moved away to spread his cloak on the ground. Then he took an old cloth, moved back to them, and cleaned them with ultimate care.

He helped the brothers up, led them to the make-shift bed, and lowered them gently. “Let’s take a little nap!”

When they were both lying down, he fetched Boromir’s cloak and spread it over them. The Gondorian brothers were already nearly asleep and in the end Aragorn lay down in front of Faramir, snuggling in to the heat of the younger man.

He sighed. Both of their actions earlier had left him half hard and he was tempted to use his hand to give himself some relief. But no, there’d be enough time for this later on.

He awoke to some giggles and a probing and slippery hard flesh in the crack of his arse. The giggles belonged to Faramir, responding to the smutty directions Boromir whispered into his ear.

“He can take it…he’s the king after all,” he heard the voice of his lover.

Still yawning, Aragorn turned around, smiling at both of them. “Do I have to have a say in this?” he mock complained.

“No!” Faramir said and Boromir agreed with a vigorous nod.

“I can still feel the burn from your hands on my arse,” the younger Gondorian grumbled, “and Boromir said that you deserve some punishment in return!”

Before Aragorn could even answer or protest, the nudging at his entrance grew bolder and then Faramir’s flesh forcefully slid into him. Aragorn gasped from the burn and the slight feeling of pain, but he welcomed the penetration nevertheless. Four hands were on his body, steadying him until he could breathe again; Faramir felt how the muscles around his cock released their tight grip. He had been holding his breath without knowing it.

“Move, young Faramir,” Aragorn urged him, pressing back against the Gondorian.

Under his brother’s guidance Faramir adopted a fast pace. The overwhelming heat surrounding his cock was rapidly building up the pleasure in his body.

“I can’t take this,” he moaned in despair, afraid that it would be over too soon. But then he felt a strong hand around the base of his cock, where he was joined with Aragorn, pressing down on it, not letting him come.

Boromir’s other hand grabbed Aragorn’s willing flesh, stroking it forcefully in rhyme with Faramir’s erratic thrusts. Now it was Aragorn’s turn to whimper. “Close,” he screamed.

In this moment, Boromir let go of Faramir’s flesh. He pushed him forwards again to enable him for one long and deep thrust, making Aragorn see spots of light.

The king’s body spasmed, hot semen was spilling all over Boromir’s hand while both Faramir and Aragorn screamed and cursed through their release. Boromir held them close, wanting to share this special moment. Only his lovers’ mingled panting broke the silence of the room.

“So, did I promise too much?” he whispered into Faramir’s ear.

“No…” his younger brother murmured dreamily. He was positively exhausted and still trembling with aftershocks from the intense pleasure when he withdrew his cock from Aragorn’s clenching internal channel, which earned him a moan of frustration from his king.

Aragorn lay panting on his side, hissing when Boromir cleaned his oversensitive flesh.

“I’m not sure if I’m going to survive the both of you,: he murmured, yawning, after a while.

“Well…a man will grow in his tasks,” Boromir replied cheekily.

He pressed a last kiss to his brother’s and Aragorn’s heads before they felt asleep with Faramir embracing Aragorn from behind.

Boromir lay awake for some more time, watching the two of them. Today his king and his brother had given him the most precious gift. He’d never forget that…

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