Faramir Fiction Archive

On His Knees (NC-17)

Written by Iorhael

28 December 2012 | 3229 words

Title: On His Knees
Author: i_o_r_h_a_e_l
Fandom: The Lord of the Rings FPS
Pairing: Éomer/Faramir, Éomer/OMCs
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings belongs to JRRT.
Warnings: non-con, violence
Summary: The day Éomer told him what he thought about his father was the worst day in his life.

Written for the 2012 sons_of_gondor Trick or Treat Challenge.
Recipient: empy
Notes: My gratitude goes to rubyelf for the beta and caras_galadhon and savageseraph for organizing this challenge.

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The day Éomer told him what he thought about his father was the worst day in his life. It was also the day Gondor declared war on Rohan.

Faramir sat up straight in his chair next to Denethor’s throne, silently relieved his father was not around. Instead, he was on the tower roof watching their troops marching out toward Rohan. Faramir wished he were back in Ithilien where he could mind his own business. But father had summoned them both, him and Boromir, and he could not imagine ever saying no to his sire.. Denethor would need all his knights and warriors.

A man ran down the short flight of stairs toward him.

“Little brother.” Boromir was out of breath when he reached him. “How are you?”

Faramir understood the question. “I’ll be fine. So will Éomer.” He stood abruptly and brushed past Boromir.

He knew things were never that simple with his brother, though. Boromir caught his arm. “Stay away from Ithilien. It’s too dangerous for you both. At least when Éomer doesn’t find you there, he’ll leave. He will never try to meet you in the City. He knows it will be too risky for him. Besides, Théoden must have made him a captain. He can’t desert and go looking for you.”

Faramir waved off Boromir’s grip. “I have to go to Ithilien,” he said, through gritted teeth. “My men will catch him if they see him. I’m not hiding here to save my own hide.”

“You’ll get caught too and sent here as a traitor. Faramir!” Boromir shouted, full of despair, but Faramir had left the room. He had to save his lover.

Faramir didn’t take the main gate. Having lived all his life in Minas Tirith; he knew the shortcuts and holes in the walls around the city. Boromir taught him those and he kept the secret safe behind sealed lips.

Faramir flew with Sugarfoot, his beloved steed, his mind whirling with thoughts of Éomer. He just hoped he wouldn’t be foolish enough to try to get to Faramir. The Gondorians would be very excited to capture a Rohan heir. Faramir knew his father would be ecstatic if he got to lay hands on such a priceless prisoner. The other alternative, though – to be killed in battle – wasn’t much of a choice. For the hundredth time, Faramir cursed Denethor’s decision to declare war.

He led Sugarfoot quietly to Henneth Annûn, the pool where he and Éomer usually met. It was not necessarily a secret spot. Most of his soldiers knew the place, but during the war Faramir hoped everyone was too busy to think of going there.

Faramir tied Sugarfoot to a tree and began climbing up the cliff. The sight that welcomed him there, at the foot of the waterfall, made his heart jump up to his throat.

Éomer, without a single thread on his body, was down on all fours, a Gondorian soldier’s cock in his mouth and another right up his ass. Faramir closed his eyes and clamped up his mouth with a fist. This could not be happening. It was hardly a blessing when he opened his eyes again that he still could not see Éomer’s face. His long golden mane fell on both sides of his head. Faramir felt half relieved at the fact. He barely managed to keep from jumping down the steep rocks. It would bring nothing but trouble for both of them if he acted without thinking. In times like this he wished he had Boromir with him. His brother would know what to do.

Faramir looked around. He did not have any arrows or crossbow with him, but maybe there was still something he could do. He squinted down at Éomer and his attackers as he groped around him. To avoid hitting Éomer, he aimed further left, past the Gondorians. He threw fast and

Zing!

The pebble hit the stony ground, bounced, and plunged into the pool. The men startled and stopped their activity, looking at each other. He could not hear their voices but he guessed they were wondering what the disturbance was, and where it came from. Faramir aimed once more and tossed another pebble, this time way to the right. To his dismay, the soldiers looked up, not exactly at the cliff where Faramir was hiding but close enough. He should have been proud of their sharpness, but Faramir would not want anything to do with those barbarians after what he had seen.

Whether Faramir managed to scare the men or not, they finally let Éomer go. Éomer crumpled down and curled up, utterly still on the ground. Faramir sucked in his breath. He wanted to run and grab his lover and cover him up to protect him from this indignity. But first he had to make sure that the soldiers had truly left.

Faramir scooped a fistful of tiny rocks and shot them into the air so that they rained down like a drizzle from the sky. The remaining soldiers got dressed in a haste, picked up their swords, and fled to their horses. Faramir felt grateful he left Sugarfoot at a hidden spot so the men would not find him. He had not seen any horses on his way here and he cursed himself for that. His sole focus on Éomer had distracted him from caring about anything else.

Faramir waited, and when he could not see or hear the soldiers, he slowly and carefully he climbed down from his hiding place.

“Éomer, hush, are you awake?” Faramir shushed when Éomer’s eyes flew open and he appeared ready to shout in alarm. “It’s me, Faramir. I’m going to take you away from here.”

“Faramir, you are here.”

“Yes, but quiet now. I don’t want those men to hear and return.”

Faramir gathered Éomer’s clothes up. His eyes ran over Éomer’s naked body trying to find any wounds. The sun was still up, but it grew dark quickly in the valley. Faramir found nothing but marks and bruises where the soldiers had put some pressure against Éomer’s skin earlier.

Éomer flinched slightly at Faramir’s touches but Faramir did not even acknowledge it. Once the Rohan heir even tried to pull back, but under Faramir’s glare he yielded.

“Where’s Firefoot?” Faramir asked of Éomer’s horse. He had to shake him a bit, as Éomer seemed to be lost in his world.

“F-faramir?” He seemed to want to cling to the name like it was his lifeline.

“I’m here.” Faramir tugged him up to his feet. “Your horse, Éomer. Do you remember where you left him?”

“I don’t know.” Éomer looked away, never meeting Faramir’s eyes. He pushed Faramir.

“Don’t.”

“You must leave. I’m not worthy of you. A Gondorian’s whore…”

“Stop it.” Faramir saw red. “I will kill anyone who dared say that to you”

Éomer looked down and said nothing. Then, “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. Those who attacked you… I will have them hanged.”

Éomer refused to look up. Faramir put his tunic and breeches back on, feeling grateful that Éomer’s cloak was lying around nearby. They went to his horse; Faramir gripped Éomer’s arm as he stumbled a few times.

Faramir helped Éomer mount Sugarfoot before he climbed up behind him. They both covered their faces with the hoods, and as Faramir slowly guided the beast out of Henneth Annûn, he felt Éomer lean into him. By his slow breathing, Faramir knew Éomer had fallen asleep. He pulled the reins to slow Sugarfoot down.

There was a ranger’s post just outside Ithilien where Faramir and his men usually stopped to rest. It was protected by the trees and wooden shrubs and not many people knew of its presence. Faramir was certain the men of Rohan had no knowledge of it, and at the moment he also hoped none of the Gondorian soldiers thought of making it their shelter.

The chance was decidedly slim, but as Sugarfoot trotted slowly Faramir did not see any signs of other people or horses there. Sugarfoot neighed softly at Faramir’s gentle tug and stood still, giving the time for his master to dismount him. Faramir jumped down, a hand shooting out to keep Éomer steady before helping him down. Éomer was awake, but he slumped and still did not say anything. Faramir was tempted to carry Éomer into the hut but he wasn’t sure Éomer would tolerate that. In the end though Faramir decided to carry Éomer on his shoulder. The more they were exposed in the open, the more in danger they were.

Inside the hut Faramir laid Éomer carefully on the the only bed, which had only a hard mattress. Rest might be one of the purposes the hut served, but comfort was not. The hut was only furnished with that one bed, a wooden bench, and rugs that hosted more moths than the number of them in all the houses in Minas Tirith.

Faramir closed the window and lit up a candle to give them a bit of a light. He scoured the pantry and gathered dried bread, meat, and fruit enough to last them for a few days. He knew there was a spring behind the building where he could bathe Éomer. He assumed cleaning up must be what the other man would want to have again and again, and Faramir was prepared to give as much as he could.

Éomer turned on the couch to face Faramir. He reached out and Faramir took his hand.

“How long was I out?” asked Éomer.

“One night. If only I could take you to a healer…”

“I feel much better,” Éomer said, then stopped. Faramir shifted closer to the sofa.

“Did those soldiers beat you?” Faramir had given him a thorough check the night before when he rubbed Éomer clean but some things might have gone unnoticed.

“No,” said Éomer slowly. Faramir hated how pale he looked. Éomer was obviously recalling his ordeal. Faramir moved to the sofa, lifting Éomer’s head and resting it gently on his lap. If the sofa had been big enough for them both, he would have slipped behind Éomer and spooned him up.

“You need to go back to your men, your people. Not with an enemy like me,” said Éomer.

“After what they’ve done to you, I’m not sure I’d even want to breathe the same air as them. The only time I’m willing to meet them again is when I thrust my sword through their necks.”

“How about your father? One of his sons is missing and-”

“Shall we not talk about him? I do not approve of this decision of his – although it hardly matters whether or not I approve. He is the Steward. Even Boromir does not have a say in that.” Faramir felt Éomer tense in his hands “What is the matter?”

“Your brother. Will he find out where we are hiding?”

Faramir smiled widely. “I wish he would. We can ask him to bring us fresh food.”

Éomer widened his eyes in disbelief. “He cannot agree with me being with you here.”

“Why not? He likes you and he likes us together.”

“Not in war times,” hissed Éomer. “It will be his country first and foremost.”

“Then we do not tell him. We should not go back until the war is over.”

Éomer shook his head. He looked sad.

“I do not want you to be punished for helping me, Faramir.” He pressed Faramir’s hand in his chest.

“Nobody is going to punish me if they cannot lay their hands on me. We are safe here, Éomer. Believe me.”

Faramir wanted to believe his own words. He did not know what the following days would bring, and their shelter was not unknown to the Gondorians. Someone was bound to come and Faramir could only hope he would be able to take care of them when the time came.

So they stayed and gave no care to the world, or two households that were missing their heirs. Faramir simply took joy in seeing Éomer heal and get stronger each day. He even insisted on helping Faramir around the cabin, though Faramir would not allow him to go out too far. Hunting rabbits or deer was still Faramir’s job.

And they had sex. Not as wild and hard as they usually did – Faramir had doubted they should have at all but Éomer convinced him that he was all right. He had wanted it for some time, as it would help him forget the nightmares he was still having.

Faramir winced as Éomer’s hand tightened into his hair and pulled him closer.

“What?” he whispered huskily.

“Get inside me.” Éomer bit his lower lip in a failed attempt to stop the moan that escaped anyway, and the sound sent delicious shudders into Faramir’s spine. He ground himself against Éomer, who gasped and arched, clutching at Faramir’s arm.

“Please,” he nearly begged. Faramir couldn’t help but smirk and tease Éomer’s hole, circling slowly on the edges before crawling inside and, finally rubbed over the sensitive nub deep inside Éomer. The cruel jerk and harsh gasp he made were enough for Faramir. Éomer had yet to come though and Faramir did not intend to let him now. He gave just enough pressure under the head that Éomer yelped a complaint. Faramir laughed darkly and only let go after Éomer promised – by blinking weakly – that he would not come without Faramir’s permission.

The air was stuffy with their fast breaths and it reeked with sex. Éomer gasped as he was rocked slowly. Faramir took his sweet time. The friction squeezed and milked him deliciously and he pinched his eyes closed as the sensation was burning him. He was close. So close.

Suddenly his eyes flew open and without thinking he clamped a hand over Éomer’s mouth. Éomer’s eyes widened. He grabbed Faramir’s wrist and made a noise of protest but Faramir shook his head hard and put a finger on his own lips to tell Éomer to be quiet. Éomer tensed. He seemed to hear now too.

People, most likely some Gondorian soldiers, were roaming around outside the cabin. Faramir and Éomer heard their names being mentioned but they dared not to move. They could not catch the words but the men seemed to argue if they should search the place. Faramir and Éomer barely breathed. The smallest sound would give them away. Faramir did not trust those men to take them both as prisoners. They might just slay them right here. Faramir did not want to take chances.

Time passed torturously and when finally it sounded as though the men were leaving – and they did – Faramir almost wept in relief. When the last sets of steps faded off, Faramir collapsed on top of Éomer, breathless. He had turned soft inside his lover and Éomer too had softened against his belly. Neither of them had any desire left.

“Are you sure about this?”

Faramir looked up to meet Éomer’s eyes and down to the knife in his hand. He exhaled loudly and nodded.

“Do it, Éomer. Before I change my mind.”

“You might change your mind?”

Éomer sounded exasperated. Faramir only smirked at him to show that he was only jesting. “No. I trust you. Now, go put that E on my skin.”

This time it was Éomer who grinned playfully. “Are you certain that you want to put it on your arm?”

“What do you mean?”

“…not on your, you know—”

“Look, you are reddening.”

“I am not.”

“You are too. You want to—ah!”

Éomer cut into Faramir’s skin right when Faramir let his guard down. He chuckled softly. “A son of a steward, the Prince of Ithilien, a little baby.”

“I am not a baby. Careful with that. Ouch.”

“It will be over sooner if you let go of my hands.”

Faramir released his tight grip on Éomer. He took a deep breath. “All right. Go ahead. But make it faster.”

“I will. Now, what color do you want for your lovely E when I’m finished later?”

They ended up staying in the woods longer than necessary, because time lost all meaning to them. They kept hunting and looking for food or leaves they could eat in the forest. They had begun to have sex again several nights after that near encounter with the soldiers. Nobody had come looking for them anymore. Not even Boromir, to Faramir’s dismay.

Until one night when Éomer dashed to the window and gazed into the dark.

“What is it?” asked Faramir.

“I thought I saw the bushes moving.”

“It’s the wind.”

Éomer had yet to reply when someone pounded at the door.

“Ssh.”

“Open up.” An authoritative voice followed and Faramir’s heart skipped a beat. “Open the door. I know you are in there. I saw the light.”

Faramir grabbed the doorknob and flung the door open. The next second he tossed himself into Boromir’s arms. It was a careless thing to do and it could have cost him his life, but right now Faramir did not care. He had missed his brother.

“What – dear Eru. Faramir?” Boromir shook himself off the sudden hug and pulled back, gripping Faramirs upper arms. “I thought you were dead.”

Faramir looked up and smiled and gestured over his shoulder. “Far from it. I’m alive. And so is Éomer.”

“Dear Eru,” Boromir repeated. “I should take you home.”

Faramir retreated far back and halted just a step in front of Éomer as if he were protecting him. “And have him beheaded and me sent to the dungeon? No, thank you.”

Boromir gawked. “You do not know that the war is over?”

Faramir had to shake his head in wonder. “It is over?” he asked weakly.

Boromir laughed and ruffled his hair.

“It certainly is. But situation is not completely safe. Now ruffians and muggers are everywhere. We’re going to get them all. I thought they had taken over this guards’ post.”

“It was just us.”

“It was impossible for me to know it. You have been missing for months.” Boromir nodded at Éomer. “You too. No one thought you were together when we realized you were nowhere to be found. But-” Boromir gazed back at Faramir. “I had a hunch, though I dared not tell anyone. I kept hoping you were still alive.”

Faramir thought he saw his brother’s eyes brighten with tears, but he was not that kind of man. Faramir merely nodded.

“Thank you for not giving up on me. Us.” His mind flashed back to Éomer’s ordeal as he glanced at the man. “There is something I need to tell you, though. It is about Éomer.” Éomer looked down and swallowed. Faramir gave him a one-armed hug. “But we are ready to go home now.”

“So we shall.”

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