Faramir Fiction Archive

Second Prize (R)

Written by Liz

04 April 2004 | 7656 words | Work in Progress

Pairing: Faramir/Imrahil, Aragorn/ Imrahil
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Tolkien's world, I just play in it
Timeline: after ring war
Warnings: incest, blackmail, and a tad of non-con
Beta: Skonichek -we love you!
Summary: After being refused his nephew, Imrahil decides on a second prize.

Work In Progress

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Part 1

Aragorn was certain that the Prince of Dol Amroth was being deceitful, he could feel it in his very bones. This surprise visit to Minas Tirith had been warmly welcomed by everyone in court; yet as he watched the prince converse with his nephew Aragorn knew there was something besides a short vacation for the prince’s reason here. Imrahil stood very close to Faramir , he could see that from here. He watched as the older man put his hand on the Steward’s shoulder and tugged him into yet another hug. That was another thing; Imrahil had been touching Faramir all day. He had observed Imrahil finding ways to pull his relative into embraces or touches that denoted a familial, almost proprietary feeling. He had given up trying to find an exact problem with it, as there was none. However there still arose a feeling of disquiet as he watched Faramir lean into Imrahil, and the sensation of disquiet grew as he saw the man stroke his nephew’s hair. He had spoken to Arwen about it, and she had laughed at him telling him that perhaps the Prince felt lonely for his sister’s only surviving child. It had appeased his wonderment at the tactile nature of the prince, as he could not recall the man being so with his sons when he had served him as Thorongil. But still, he thought, as he watched Imrahil hug Faramir close to him, rubbing his lower back he could not help but think that men did not normally touch others like this. Not unless in another kind of relationship, one that could not possibly be between two family members. Could it?

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“ Faramir, you will consider it promise me at least that.” Imrahil held the man tightly to him and turned the Steward’s chin upwards so that Faramir would meet his gaze. His nephew was weakening on the subject; he could see it now in his eyes. Imrahil had spent the last week cajoling and encouraging Faramir to journey back to Belfalas with him. To stay with his mother’s kin, as Imrahil had taken to saying to his sister’s last child. He had not given Imrahil the assurance he had wanted, and so the Prince had come to receive the promise that he would return to Dol Amroth. Where Imrahil felt Faramir belonged best, with him.

It was true that he was here on a respite from his children and ruling but in truth he was here mostly to take Faramir back with him. The man had haunted his dreams of late and every time he thought of Minas Tirith he could almost feel the weight of Faramir’s body as he had carried him back from Pelennor Fields. He had promised Finduilas that he would save her children in any way possible if they had come to harm and he had fulfilled that oath. Yet now, as he stroked his last surviving nephew’s cheek the last thing on his mind was comfort.

Those dreams of his, ah they were the reason he had come here. Imaginings filled his nights and days, of Faramir in his arms and of him in his bed. He knew just how soft that skin was, where all the scars on his body were as he had watched the healers undress him in order to remove the arrows from his body. That was how the musings had first begun, where Faramir would still be injured and Imrahil would remove his clothing and bathe his body. Those dreams had changed, become more intimate as the Faramir in his dream would wake and ask for things that no nephew should ever request from his uncle. Things that Imrahil would be all too willing to give. At first he had wretched when he awoke at the idea of doing such things to his own kin but after a month of such visions and fantasies he had finally come to Minas Tirith, to end it. Either Faramir would go with him back to Belfalas or he would stay here and finish what his mind had started. “ Faramir, what say you? Will you not come back with me?”

The Steward frowned and pulled his head away. Taking a step backwards he stared at the floor for a moment before shaking his head. “The city is still in disrepair from the siege, and it will take considerable time before Gondor is restored, uncle. Nay, I cannot leave when there is still so much that needs to be done. But will you stay? It has been so long since I have spoken with any of my mother’s kin and…” Faramir closed his eyes not wanting to admit his loneliness to the other man. A warm rough hand caressed his cheek and unwillingly the younger man nuzzled it, seeking the comfort promised there. “And you wish not to be so alone. I understand Faramir, and my vacation will be extended for as long as you like.”

“It is kind of you to take so much time for me. It is good to be close to you again, Imrahil.” Faramir murmured, as he began to lose himself in the memories of childhood where he would be carried on his uncle’s shoulders as they waded in the sea. It would be wonderful to feel loved that way again. When he had felt protected and loved without any complications or compromises.

“Aye Faramir, I have wished of late to be very close to you. Perhaps even closer than we are now.” Imrahil’s voice was distant in the Steward’s ears as he was drawn into another hug from his uncle. Was there nothing better than a family’s love?

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Aragorn’s face burned as he rested in his bed and stared at the ceiling. He had woken after a strange dream, one which was perverse and shaming. Or should have been, he thought, as the erection between his legs refused to die down. He loved Arwen, he knew that with the strongest of conviction yet that dream had him aching in a way his wife had not left him in many years. Closing his eyes he relived it; where Faramir lay on the bed with Imrahil gently rubbing his back. The fact that both were naked and Imrahil had straddled his nephew’s thighs had seemed ordinary, and had not given him the slightest of pause. In his dream Aragorn had moved toward the bed watching as Imrahil turned Faramir onto his side and covered his mouth with his own. Things were moving in a hazy slowness as his Steward lay back and spread his legs, and as Imrahil began to stroke himself the Prince of Dol Amroth had turned to him asking him what Aragorn wanted. The question had woken the king up in a cold sweat and a hot erection, one that still persisted even now. Groaning softly he made his way to the bath, swearing that this would be the only time he would take a cold bath in the early morning.

The rest of the day turned out to be no easier as he noted with growing discomfort that Imrahil seemed bent upon spending every waking moment with his nephew. The court could sense Aragorn’s disquiet and the numerous councils became very subdued and quick to finish. The king took no notice of this fact as the two men he wished to keep his eye on were noticeably absent from the discussions. Aragorn was unsure of what irritated him more, the fact that a pair of the most powerful men in Middle-earth had abandoned him to tedious table talks with the lord from Lossarnach, or that he was becoming increasingly certain that they were involved in an incestuous relationship. Reminding himself that the thoughts of such a matter was dishonourable and below him had not stopped ideas of where they were and what they were doing from surfacing.

Glancing at his queen wife, he noticed she had the same bored look on her face that he most likely did. He felt badly that he had asked her to remain with him throughout the proceedings but Arwen was the one thing that kept him in the present. Which, after being told that the Steward had left with Prince Imrahil to go riding together was something that he very much needed. It was not as if there had been any outward signs of anything amiss, and it was in all likelihood a complete imagining on his part. Drawing his mind away from the two absent men he once again focused on Lord Mardil of Lossarnach. Hopefully the meeting would be over swiftly and he could spend some time with his wife.

---

Imrahil watched as Faramir rode ahead, laughing as the breeze whipped through his black hair. Faramir’s joy reminded him of the times when the Húrin family would journey to Belfalas and visit him there. He had never seen his nephew so happy since before his mother died. He smiled, thinking of what it would be like to have Faramir live with him in Belfalas once more. Would Faramir ride there, too? Perhaps they would shed their clothes in the hot summer nights and swim in the sea together, and then go lie on the soft beaches and keep each other warm. Ah, the nights they would share together and the days as well. It would be good to have him back where Faramir truly belonged; by his uncle’s side and in his uncle’s bed. Too long had his bed been empty, as his wife had passed beyond the veil many years before.

“ Imrahil? My lord, are you well?” Faramir’s voice brought him back to the present, and he looked to where the steward stood holding his horse’s reins. Nodding his head, he dismounted as well and walked over to stand under the tree in the courtyard. “I was thinking of when you were little and you would play in the surf. Looking like a sand piper, always digging in the beach for shells and clams. You looked so small then. Do you remember when that big wave came and swept you into the sea?” Imrahil walked closer to his nephew, cupping his face with his hands. He was aware that all this touching seemed strange to Faramir, but he could not avoid touching him again.

“Aye,” said Faramir, “and you dived in and saved me. I felt safe in your arms, I knew you would not let harm come to me.”

“I would never harm you, you mean much to me. When I look at you, I see what is left of my sister. I see what remains of Boromir, and even your father Faramir. I see him too when I look at you. But mostly, I just see you; and how lonely you are. Shall I comfort you?” Imrahil said softly, stroking the other man’s face and leaning in very slowly. Faramir’s eyes were lidded, relaxation making them heavy with sleep. “Aye,” he whispered. “Show me your comfort. I am lonely, uncle.” Faramir closed his eyes, comfortable in his uncle’s arms. If Imrahil wished to hold him for a time, he was certainly welcome to.

The prince’s lips quirked before brushing the steward’s. Finding no resistance, Imrahil deepened it in stages. An increase in pressure, a tilt of the head to better the angle, a soft lick to Faramir’s lower lip, a gentle insertion of his tongue-

“What are you doing?” Faramir jerked his head away, shaking it as he stepped back. “ Imrahil? What was that… kiss? That was not…what did you mean by that?” Imrahil stared innocently back at him. “Whatever do you mean, nephew? Do you not wish me to comfort you?” He watched as Faramir’s eyes narrowed and then widened. “You, you offer comfort in the form of…” Shaking his head the younger man stepped back. “You cannot be serious.”

Imrahil tried his best to act confused, raising his eyebrow. “Serious about comforting you? Nephew, what is wrong? If you do not wish my touch why did you not say so? I would not want to displease you.”

Now it was Faramir’s turn to look confused, yet Imrahil was certain that this confusion was not feigned. “I…the intensity of your comfort disconcerted me. I did not realise that those from Dol Amroth kissed their family so.”

With those words, Imrahil was presented with an opportunity that very rarely showed itself in life.

“Of course we do, do you not recall the traditions of your kin? Come, kiss me Faramir, as I would have done with you had you not balked at it.”

Hesitantly Faramir moved foreward to his uncle and kissed him chastely on the mouth. Quickly Imrahil wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled the man towards him. As Faramir opened his mouth to protest, the older man slipped his tongue in and began to kiss him in earnest. The steward, not wanting to offend his kin, did nothing but held perfectly still. Or at least tried to as Imrahil’s kisses started to make him uncomfortably warm.

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