Faramir Fiction Archive

Something to Remember (NC-17)

Written by Minx

04 April 2004 | 2054 words

Pairing: Boromir/Faramir
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: LOTR and all its characters belong to Tolkien
Archiving: Drop me a line before you do
Summary: Boromir wants Faramir to have something nice to think about. Pretty much PWP
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated - greenrivervalley@gmail.com
Warnings: Explicit slash, incest

A/N – This is inspired by an extremely beautiful artwork by E.W.
(scribalone@alltel.net) to be found here:
http://www.libraryofmoria.com/fanart/boromirandfaramir.jpg

Many thanks to Iris for her help and constant encouragement:)

---

Boromir found his brother sitting against the wall in one of the balconies opening off the throne room, pensively observing the night sky, his slight figure hidden by the drapes. He walked up to him, and sat down beside him, against the wall. They were high above the rest of the city.

"You're worried," he commented, not one to indulge in niceties.

Faramir did not reply.

"Is this to do with the audience you are to have with Father tomorrow?" he tried again.

Still no answer.

"It is, isn't it?"

He got a brief nod of the head this time.

"Why do you let him worry you so?"

Faramir shrugged in response, and contented himself with picking at the threads on his tunic.

"It's not like you've never had to answer to him in front of the entire council."

"That doesn't mean I have to like it," Faramir muttered finally.

"Shouldn't you get used to it? Once your captaincy is confirmed you will have to address your concerns to the entire council."

Again no response. Faramir hugged his knees close to his chest and rested his head on them, letting the dark strands of hair fall over his face. Boromir brushed them away and ran his fingers along the sharp cheekbone.

"You shouldn't let him get to you like this," he murmured softly, "At least not here in this cold."

He extended a hand to his brother.

"I can't help it," Faramir said quietly, taking the hand and rising to his feet, "I can still remember how stern he was the last time he called me in front of the council to explain why the patrol couldn't capture those Orcs near the Pelennor. You remember -? The time we were outnumbered three to one? He was sitting on that chair, and when I saw his face I knew I'd get no help from him. And I didn't. I can still see his face as he sat there listening to the Council censure me. Every single step I take, I'm dogged by the memory of him sitting there with his face so hard, telling me I'd failed. And now I'm to stand before him tomorrow and explain why it is we let another party get away yesterday."

Boromir moved closer and standing beside his brother rubbed his hands up and down the slight figure.

"Don't worry," he soothed, as he guided him out of the balcony towards the small alcove behind the drapes. The empty throne room in front of them looked vast and foreboding, the statues of kings of yore standing silent and solemn, "It'll be all right. You'll see. It was not your error. I do know that. The patrol on the Pelennor is the most undermanned unit in the army. I've tried to tell him before, but – You could never have dealt with all of them, dearest. You have to tell them that, or they will never authorise more men."

"How?" Faramir demanded unhappily, "I can't forget how stern he looks."

"Maybe you could think of something else while he's sitting there," Boromir suggested, leaning against the wall, "Something nice and happy?"

"Nice and happy?" Faramir snorted, leaning back into his brother's broad chest, "Like what?"

"Like me," Boromir said helpfully, and gently nipped Faramir's ear, smiling at the slight intake of breath from the younger man, "Like me when I'm kissing you."

"I've forgotten how you look when you kiss me," Faramir said, turning around, a small smile playing on his lips, "Perhaps you could remind me?"

"Perhaps I could," Boromir mused, "And maybe I could remind you of a few other nice things I could do to you?"

He lowered his head and captured the waiting lips in a soft kiss. They came apart slowly, breathing a little heavily.

"Come," Faramir whispered, grabbing Boromir's wrist.

But his brother wouldn't move, "Where?" he asked.

"To your room, or mine. Soon!"

"Why?"

"So we can create those nice thoughts for me to remember when I see father sitting on that chair tomorrow."

Boromir shook his head, smiling a little, and gently tugged Faramir to the centre of the throne room, and then towards the Steward's chair.

"If you want nice thoughts, I think we should create them here. So you have something nice to remember every time you're in this room."

"Here?" Faramir stared at him incredulously.

"Yes, here," Boromir said and undid the topmost binding on Faramir's tunic.

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Because – because we can't!"

"Why can't we?" asked Boromir very patiently, as he untied the rest of the bindings on Faramir's tunic, and slipped it off the slender shoulders, letting it pool at his feet.

Faramir shivered slightly, partly from cold, partly from very nearness of Boromir, who was now cupping his face in his hands.

"The floor is too cold," the younger man managed to gasp out weakly, before his lips were captured in a soft kiss.

Boromir raised his head, amusement flickering through his grey eyes, "Then we shan't use the floor," he said and nipped at the curve between Faramir's neck and shoulder.

"Where - ?" Faramir gasped out incoherently, as the wandering hands rested on his nipples and began pinching them lightly.

There was no answer as Boromir pulled him closer with one hand, and began undoing his pants with the other. It wasn't long before he could step out of the clothes pooled around his feet.

"Boromir –" he started a little fearfully, looking around even though he knew there would be no one around at this time of night.

"What?" Boromir grinned as he pulled off his own clothes, so that both stood naked in front of the throne, the statues staring impassively down at them.

He then climbed the steps to the Steward's chair and sat on the chair, pulling Faramir to join him. He settled him on his lap. Faramir was much thinner and slighter in build than he.

"There's no one here," he said reassuringly, and pulling Faramir's head closer ran his tongue over the soft pink lips.

Faramir moaned in response, and moved closer wrapping his arms around Boromir's neck, shifting his lower body so that he now rested on the strong thighs, his legs folded on either side. Gently, Boromir kissed him along his jaw, letting his tongue explore the familiar contours. Pulling him even closer, he let his tongue slide all the way up the jaw line, along the curve of the earlobe, his hands gently massaging Faramir's back. Faramir whined in response, letting his head drop against Boromir's shoulder, rubbing his temple against the bare skin.

"And what would you like to remember tomorrow?" Boromir whispered lazily into Faramir's ear, as his hands descended lower and lower, playing with the knots on Faramir's bony spine, gently rotating his fingers over each little knob, knowing how Faramir loved it each time he did that. He let his fingers travel lower and lower, until they came to rest at the base of the spine, digging into the familiar depression over the rounded buttocks.

Faramir raised his head, his soft, pink lips tantalisingly close to Boromir's mouth. Boromir raised an eyebrow, more than a little amused at the obvious change in mood. His brother seemed as determined as he was to enjoy this moment to its fullest.

"I'd like to remember how you feel inside me," Faramir replied huskily, before attacking Boromir's lips hungrily with his own, threading his long fingers through his hair. He thrust his body against the older man's letting their arousals grind together, and felt the fingers around his waist and buttocks clench, digging into the soft flesh. He shifted himself encouragingly. Boromir felt him move and slowly inched his fingers closer towards the narrow cleft. Faramir moaned in response, pulling away for air.

"Soon, please!" he gasped out, his deep grey eyes gazed into Boromir's, the need reflected clearly in them.

For a brief second Boromir simply stared at his brother, the stormy eyes so expressive in their desire, the raven strands of hair wildly framing the fine features, the sculpted, lean figure seated on his lap, wiry limbs, bony exterior yet to fill out completely.

"I love you," he murmured, brushing the hair off his cheek. As Faramir opened his mouth to answer, he gently pushed his fingers in, tracing the contours his lower lip, before dipping under the tongue that Faramir was now snaking out.

When Faramir had wetted the fingers thoroughly, he pulled them out and gently claimed the glistening lips with his own. Faramir wrapped his arms around his brother's neck and pulled him closer, rubbing his swollen member against Boromir's erection. He nearly bucked as Boromir lightly brushed his fingers along the length of the cleft and brought them to rest near his entrance. Slipping his mouth off he reared himself up, wriggling around to allow the fingers access, his pulsing member all the while brushing against Boromir's erect shaft, causing the other man to hiss sharply.

He moaned as he nuzzled Boromir's shoulder. A single saliva slicked finger slipped in slowly and gently, to be joined by a second and then a third, and soon Faramir's little kisses were turning into bites as the fingers moved further and further inside him, till they found the tiny bundle of nerves.

Faramir reared up at the sensation, moaning loudly and then whined the fingers were slowly pulled out.

They stared at each other, grey eyes meeting grey, each mirroring the desperation the other felt. Then Faramir glanced down at Boromir's stiffening member. Reaching down, he stroked it slowly at first and then rapidly, inducing raspy noises from Boromir's mouth as he rubbed the leaking release over the shaft.

Then he raised his hips to allow Boromir to slouch forward. His slender limbs contorted sensually as he rose on his haunches, hands resting on Boromir's shoulders, and lowered himself onto the erect shaft one swift motion, his legs spreading automatically, till they dangled off the arms of the chair.

Boromir pushed into him with an almost feral groan, unable to resist the wild look that his brother presented with his sweat slicked face, raven hair flying loose over his shoulders, and pure contentment in his eyes. He grasped the slim waist, his fingers digging into the soft skin yet again, as he encouraged Faramir to move. Faramir rocked into him, allowing him to penetrate further into his tight passage, until he suddenly gasped, throwing his head back, his back arching, his fingers digging into Boromir's shoulder. Boromir thrust upwards once again, striking the same spot, and then again, watching his brother's expressive face contort in passionate delight each time. He moved his hand so that he could support Faramir's lower back and moved the other to his pressing erection, closing around it.
Faramir's muscles clenched at the swift stroking motion, and Boromir could hold back no longer. He felt his release spurt out the same time as Faramir's, as Faramir slumped forward in his arms.

They sat there for a few minutes, limp and panting softly, their combined wetness covering their stomachs and thighs. Boromir could feel the carved pattern of the white tree against his back, and soft, warm breaths on his chest. He moved first, kissing Faramir lightly on his temple.

"Thank you," Faramir whispered as he rose off him slowly, and Boromir could hear a wealth of meaning in that simple phrase. He gently lowered the younger man to the floor.

"I *will* remember this," the younger man said needlessly as they pulled on their clothes, and Boromir knew he was not referring just to the next day.

Boromir smiled and wrapping an arm around his brother, led him out of the throne room.

"Is there anywhere else that you would like to have happy thoughts about?" Boromir inquired.

 

The End

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