Faramir Fiction Archive

Perfect Peach (NC-17)

Written by Kissa

22 December 2007 | 5364 words

Chapter 2

Faramir: Confusion

I had not seen Boromir in years… in fact it seemed an eternity since we had last held each other. Something within me always grew alarmed when I thought of my brother; I knew what it was, but I did not wish to give it a name or voice it, for it was my greatest fear. But even this fear seemed only the fruit of my imagination.

Sometimes I would wake up with the sensation I had dreamt it all, being the Steward’s second son, having a brother, living in a city… I would look down and see that I had been sleeping on a bed of leaves and branches, that I was wearing the shabby Ranger garb and my memories would seem more and more like wishful dreams.

One day though, after reporting to my captain, he laid his hand on my shoulder and sent me to sleep early, saying I had to return to Dol Amroth and carry a scroll to Prince Imrahil.

I took care of Lisse’Roch, making sure she had enough food, water and I slipped her some apple slices from my apple as well before going up to where I had unpacked my bedroll for the night.

The next morning, I was riding back to Dol Amroth, happy to be away from the captain’s scrutiny; he had insisted that I scrub in his presence, and that I do it thoroughly. The man’s request seemed weird to me, but he was my commanding officer, so I submitted without question.

Dressed in a new set of clothes, he sent me away, back to the city my uncle ruled. I was to hurry and arrive in Dol Amroth at dusk.

I entered the city exactly at sun-down and one of uncle’s maids was waiting for me, with the instructions to oversee my… pampering. It all seemed so peculiar to me, since I had been spending so much time in the wild.

It took 3 maids to undress me, bathe me (again!), wash my hair, oil it and comb it, dry me and dress me up in a court outfit.

“What is this for?” I asked in confusion, and they just giggled.

I insisted for an answer, but one of them only said:

“Orders of your uncle, Prince Imrahil of this realm.”

When all three of them were done, they stepped back and looked at me appraisingly.

Someone else came in as if on cue; it was a small cute boy carrying a plate with a folded paper bearing my uncle’s seal.

Lord Faramir,

You are hereby invited to attend tonight’s ball. You shall come alone wearing the mask delivered to you with this message and your partner for the evening shall be chosen for you on site.

We look forward to your delightful company,

Prince Imrahil

I could not believe it. Why was my uncle being so formal? This was not like I remembered him! But well, things had changed and I had spent a long time in the wild; I was oblivious even to the passing of time, let alone court etiquette and politics.

I told the boy I would honor the invitation and ritually folded the paper, placing it in my heart pocket.

Later during the evening, dressed up, mask in place and smelling like the death of thousand roses, I made my tentative way towards the ballroom. It was the old stone hall, used for councils and special occasions, now lit up with sumptuous candles and decorated with flowers and silks.

Everyone there wore masks, and underneath all that lace and velvet, it was quite hard to guess which were the lords and which were the ladies.

The master of ceremonies proceeded to form the pairs and soon I had my partner for the evening, taller and with broader shoulders than mine… a man. I at that point did not stop and worry about the detail, as everything else was stressful and new enough. I had never been to such a glamorous, loud party. Frankly, I had never been to a party before.

Night of the senses

We danced and drank, my partner offering me the sweetest, most exotic drinks and holding my hand at all time, even when we were not dancing. He was acting very protective of me, probably because he assumed I was a maiden in a lord’s velvet outfit. We had not spoken yet, and in the howling and laughing going on around us, it was impossible to distinguish voices.

As the pendulum marked the middle of the night, my partner offered me a single, sparkling white rose, so pure and perfect I first thought it was crafted from sugar. Still holding it, he gently touched my lips with the flower, and then brought it to his own lips. From behind the intricate mask, I caught a first glimpse of beautiful grey eyes, wolf-like but wise and gentle and for a moment I forgot about my resignation and my grief for having been deprived of life’s joys.

I even forgot Boromir, who was by now a mere ghost to me, and Father, whose scorn no longer touched me; even my Captain in Ithilien, the weird man who had been the closest thing to a father I had known. For an instant, a heart-shredding instant, I felt forsaken by the gods and fallen from their grace, but then my chosen partner for the evening smiled and kissed me, his touch no firmer than the petals from earlier.

He was right there next to me, tall and comforting, his very scent a promise of shelter, his fingers holding another cup of some potion unknown to me.

I drank all that he gave me; according to the etiquette, I was his until dawn. According to my heart, I did not care what happened beyond the rooster’s call. Crestfallen, I knowingly gave myself into this man’s hands, letting him decide my fate that night. And although I feared for myself, or at least the small sober part of me did, the alcohol, the sweetness and the daring decision I had made were making me feel like I was floating.

The wolf-like eyes were ever fixed on me, watching me in silence, hypnotic and predatory. Amusingly enough, I was past all feeling of fear. All I wanted was for the evening to end, so I would finally know what I had refused myself for so long, in vain hopes of something that would never be mine.

He whisked me up suddenly in a daring pirouette, and I felt my feet leave the ground, but he had his firm grip on me, so I relaxed completely in his arms, only seeing him before my eyes, the ballroom around us fading into a blur of spinning colors and beautiful smiling faces.

We danced around the room, pressed close together, his breath warm on my neck, arousing shivers all over my body. At some point there was a soft surface behind me and the room tilted… he laid me down on soft, fragrant quilts and draped himself over me, kissing me more daringly, coaxing me to open up to him.

His hands caressed me everywhere as he sought to undo all of my ribbons and buttons, and in my wantonness I helped him before eagerly starting to pull at his lacings. Somehow, in the end, I was naked but for the mask, and he was still dressed, only his cloak having slid from his shoulders. His hands continued to map my body and its sensitive spots; neck, chest, ribs, nipples, sides, back of the knees, they were all brushed and ghosted over by sweet, tantalizing touches, until I was gasping, moaning for him to go on. A smile lit up his face and as he kissed me again, possessing my mouth fully and wiping away all of my sense of self, his hand found my length, which was not so modest and childish anymore as it grew under his strokes.

My eyes were wide open but I could only see dancing shadows around and above me, until he came back into view and gently but firmly caressed my inner thighs, the exquisite tickling sensation making me spread them willingly. His fingers, magically slicked with something rather cold, stroked parts where not even my own and reached very often. Soon I was sprawled onto the luxurious pallet, writhing against his fingers, wordlessly begging for more. A finger entered me slowly, stretching and stroking from within as it went deeper, and another, then a third one soon followed. It felt exquisite, his slow conquest of my body doing nothing to help me stay focused. I felt like I was going to fly apart every moment, and I whined when the fingers left me, a lecherous lewd sound which reverberated in the large hall. Looking to see where the source of my pleasure had disappeared to, I saw him deftly unlacing his velvet trousers, taking out a massive engorged length, similar to mine, but bigger and — I thought — a thousand times more desirable. My eyes nearly watered at the sight and I lifted my hips in demand, as if I did not know that glorious male member was for me and me alone in those moments.

I closed my eyes and bit my lips as he entered me, hearing crystalline laughter around us, purring and low growls, moans and gasps that were not coming from either of us; it was as if we were being watched by a ghostly glamorous crowd, women whispering and fanning themselves as they enjoyed watching us like an opera…

In fact, it was an opera and we were its stars. My partner rested inside me for a few heartbeats, lips pressed to my ear, gasping and whispering things that made me blush and burn even more with need.

“Sweet Faramir… you feel so exquisite; never in my long years have I met a more beautiful peach, maddeningly sweet and flawless, at the peak of its ripeness, right before it begins to decline and rot… There is so little time for us to enjoy this, and we can only have this once, now, here; you will be a man after this night and the light you spread shall dim under the cover of worldly duties… give yourself to me, Faramir, let me love you!”

The voice sounded strangely familiar, but at the moment it had no name attached to it, the low purring tone and the lust-filled words dripping like thick honey on my mind.

Then, he began to move, in small, slow circles in the beginning, then with more amplitude, until he was pulling out completely and slamming into me forcefully, rocking my entire body so hard I could feel my brain rattling inside my skull… but I loved every second of it. Those moments felt like a time out of time, in which a Vala shaped his creation according to his wishes, destroying it over and over and rebuilding it, without erasing the memory of pain from one death to the next rebirth.

I was overcome with pleasure, my sight had disappeared and I could only see with the eyes of the soul; I saw him bent lovingly over me, cradling me in strong warrior’s arms, victimizing my body even as he pushed himself to the edge of endurance, giving me all of his life force. The electricity around us increased with every forceful thrust, but the ecstasy was all the more intense, knowing that the accumulation of pleasure could not destroy me, not as long as he held me in his arms, not while our bodies were joined.

The entire ballroom was holding its breath. The other guests, the walls which had seen the centuries dance by, the air which refused to flow around us…

The immense charge around us threatened to end the stream of my consciousness, but it was like the sea, each time it crashed against the wall of pleasure, a new wave would rise to document and enjoy the sensation.

My mysterious lover took pity on me and finally allowed me to slip over the edge, his silk-wrapped hand gliding torturously over my shaft, coaxing the very life out of me through the organ. With perfect control and in perfect timing, he let go at the very moment when my body arched with the effort of surrender, marking me as his for all time.

The next thing I knew, as I dizzily held on to him, was silk wrapped around my naked skin, and the feeling of floating. Blind, powerless and shaken to the core, I had to relearn the most essential of gestures: to breathe, to move, to cling, to see.

He laid me down again, on cold new sheets, cleaned me with fragrant water and a soft cloth, then tucked me in and slipped beside me under the covers. A new pleasure, this time at a human scale, but equally delicious, became known to me as I felt his hot naked skin against mine and strong arms held me, caressing me towards sleep. Somewhere, in a distant, deeply buried part of my memory, as the clock from the tower struck the first hour of morning, it dawned on me that I was a man now, sadness biting at the edges of my withering pleasure.

The woods of Ithilien had somehow woven a crust over the wounds inside me, and it had hurt all the more when that crust had been ripped away during the previous night. Like he had said, the perfect peach would only have time to decay from now on…

He had known my name all along, even with the mask… He had said my name, the word spilling from his lips laced with desire unlike anything I had ever felt before. My previous infatuation with my own brother and fear of my father disappeared like the ghosts of feelings, now that part of me was safely locked away within the man holding me so closely. I had not dared to even think his name, for fear the spell would break, but I had known it from the first look into the wolf-like eyes. Imrahil. The fact that we shared the blood of ancestors did not taint his desire for me or my willingness to yield to him of all men and women. We had only been granted one night of the senses and we had made the most out of it by giving everything to the other and saving nothing for ourselves.

For the first time in my life I was happy.

For the first time that morning, after sunrise, I woke up warm and centered like never before, although he had left and I was alone in my room. Had it all been a vivid dream?

I did not think so. I had the soreness to prove it real.

When I went down to break my fast, after a bath, my uncle greeted me with his usual warmth, smiling at me, his beautiful grey eyes lighting up. I had looked at myself in the mirror back in my room, thinking how similar we were, almost identical in looks, signs of age the only difference, as if we were the same person at two moments in time. I could not help thinking that my brother’s hair was sandy blond, and his eyes green like the filtered light among the tree branches in Ithilien. He resembled father more; it suddenly dawned on me why uncle Imrahil never came to Minas Tirith…

The idea filled me with a sense of balance; all made sense now, my world had rearranged itself in a logical construction that I could read and interpret. The prospect of a life of duty and allegiance no longer saddened me – I had found my roots and my design. Now I was free to blossom and reach for the skies.

End!

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