Faramir Fiction Archive

Tales from Gondor (R)

Written by Minx

23 September 2012 | 36179 words

Pairing: Aragorn/Faramir
Summary: Aragorn gets busy early in the morning

For the ‘Hobbies’ prompt on 25fluffyfics

Much thanks to iris for her help!

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Aragorn sat at the table by the window and observed Faramir carefully. The younger man was sleeping on their bed and Aragorn found himself entranced by the way the early rays of the sun played over the steward’s countenance. Faramir looked so calm and unworried as he slept during these early hours.

If he could only remain so free of worry and care at all times, Aragorn thought sighing silently. But for Faramir to not be worrying over something when awake, no matter how little, was unheard of.

He continued staring at Faramir for a while before picking up his scroll.

The Steward lay on his on his side, dark blue bedclothes strewn carelessly over his bare body. His chest rose and fell with the steady rhythm of his breathing, the previous nights pleasures still evident in the reddened nipples and the faint marks strewn across the chest and stomach. One arm lay outstretched over Aragorn’s side of the bed. His other hand lay over the sheets that barely covered his lower belly. The soft blue fabric had ridden down to reveal the curve of his pale firm buttocks, and the faint marks around his hips. One leg had moved up folded across Aragorn’s part of the bed revealing inner thighs marked similarly.

He slept with his face turned towards Aragorn’s pillow, dark strands of hair strewn over his cheeks and neck. His mouth was slightly open, the lower lip hanging a little, the relaxed features completely at odds with the usually harried and tense look the Steward normally wore.

Although, Aragorn thought he had discovered lately that he could easily get rid of the worried countenance for a brief moment by kissing Faramir. He merely had to pull the Steward close and cover those soft lips with his.

Aragorn groaned silently as he felt himself begin to harden. He mustn’t be distracted, he reminded himself. He picked up his quill, dipped it in a pot of ink and set to work.

He worked undisturbed for a while, until the Steward stirred.

Faramir shifted restlessly and realising Aragorn was not in the bed with him turned towards the small desk by the window, where Aragorn often sat in the early mornings. Sunlight streamed in through the open windows, playing on Aragorn’s dark hair as he sat by the window, curled into an old armchair, a large scroll in his hands. He thought the king looked even more beautiful than ever in that golden light. He also looked aroused, he thought.

“What are you doing?” Faramir asked his sleepy voice tinged with curiosity. He rose, pushing away the soft sheets they had spent the night under.

Aragorn smiled at him, “I’ll show you,” he said softly, “You look lovely as you are right now.”

Faramir stared at him in confusion for a brief moment until he realised he was naked under the sheets which really weren’t covering him any longer. He grinned a little, his face reddening slightly. He swung his long legs gracefully off the bed, and swiftly wrapping one of the sheets around his waist rose and walked towards Aragorn.

Aragorn smiled and showed him the scroll.

Sharp, beautiful, black lines outlined a sketch of Faramir sleeping in their bed. He was nude, although the sheets did cover certain parts

“Oh!” Faramir said, and pulled the sheets closer around his body as he leaned forward to look at it more closely.

The sketch was extremely detailed, from the carvings on their bed to the tiny design on the bedcovers to … the marks on him, Faramir realised, blushing.

“Oh you do draw so beautifully! It’s…”

“Not half as beautiful as you,” Aragorn said, smiling as he placed the scroll carefully on the table beside him and rose. There were a couple of things about Faramir’s body that he had just rediscovered and wanted to explore.

“You draw very well,” Faramir said later, feeling slightly exhausted but incredibly happy, as he lay back with Aragorn still atop him. The king was idly making patterns on his chest with his long fingers.

“I used to do so often in Imladris. I am glad it pleased you,” Aragorn said, “I’d like to draw many more of you. You wear far too much in that one to my mind,” he declared as his fingers traced their way up to Faramir’s lips.

“I wish you’d drawn yourself too in that picture,” Faramir murmured.

“Now that I might not be able to manage,” Aragorn murmured, glancing up at him, “But you know, Legolas has a much finer hand than I do… perhaps we could umm…sit for him one of these days?”

Faramir paused in the act of licking Aragorn’s fingers one by one, raising his eyebrows. Aragorn smirked smugly at him.

Faramir thought of the elven prince and the sketch that could result and grinned, “I’d like that,” he murmured.

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