Faramir Fiction Archive

The Best Decisions (NC-17)

Written by Iris

24 June 2006 | 3533 words

Title: The Best Decisions
Author: Iris (margot.iris@gmail.com)
Pairing: Éomer/Faramir; Éomer/Faramir/Aragorn
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Includes spanking

Written for the Midsummer Swap.

Request by Phytha: Faramir/Éomer; Éomer talking a hesistant Faramir into hot sex (graphic description) including light BDSM and leather gloves

Many thanks to Minx for providing ideas, feedback and support.

---

“It is very kind of you to accompany me.” He smiled at me in that apologetic way he has about him.

I indulged him and smiled back but kept my silence – it wasn’t the first time he had thanked me, not even the first time that day.

He picked up on my indulgence immediately –he is perceptive, I’ll give him that– and continued, “I know I said before, but it really means very much to me. Éomer wrote it normally is a brother of the bridegroom who acts as second, but under the circumstances it would be fine for me to come alone. And I would have been prepared to go alone, but it does mean an awful lot to me that you are willing to act as my brother– er, that is, as my second.”

Somehow Faramir had reached the conclusion that certain topics were too delicate to be mentioned before me. Boromir, apparently, was one of these.

We had never discussed Boromir. We had never talked much at all except for what a king and his steward might share in carrying out their duties. Yet I knew from what Boromir had told me that they had been especially close. And if the guilty look Faramir was sporting right now was a reliable indicator, he too knew that Boromir and I had been more than mere travelling companions. He must have heard from Gandalf, or perhaps Pippin.

“I am honoured to act as your second. Boromir asked me to look out for you, and that is what I intend to do.”

He blushed, and mumbled another “Thank you.”

What I didn’t tell him that my escort wasn’t an entirely altruistic exercise. After having spent the past months reconstructing Gondor, with all the paperwork and council meetings that enticed, I jumped at the first opportunity of a long ride, and spending a few nights outdoors. Not that at any moment I would be able to mistake this trip for the travels I undertook as a ranger – not with the guards only a few lengths up ahead as well as behind us. Gondor takes very good care of its new king. Still, it is nice to be outdoors.

And perhaps it could also be a chance to get to know my steward a little better.

We were seen into the king’s private office and advised he would join us shortly. I sat down on the divan, but Faramir was pacing the room, visibly nervous, his gaze rapidly scanning the space.

“Calm down, all will be well. You and Éowyn are a perfect match – you know that, and Éomer knows that. This is just a formality, an old ritual, isn’t that what he wrote?”

He stopped pacing, and for a moment I lived with the illusion that it was thanks to my words, but alas. It seemed he had discovered something interesting on the other side of the desk, and he stood to study it, frowning, his head tilted slightly to one side.

I’d seen him like this before, so completely absorbed into something that took his interest, that all else faded away. At first I had found it annoying he could be so engrossed in his papers that I’d have to ask him the same thing twice, but lately I’d taken to seeing this trait as disarming; charmingly childlike.

I strained my neck to see what he was looking at. Aha– the chair. Or actually, it was an old saddle mounted on a stand, serving as a desk chair.

“It was my grandfather’s.”

Both of us turned to face the young king of Rohan, standing in the doorway in what seemed full riding kit. He continued the story as he closed the door behind him, “his second–in–command had it made when my grandfather wasn’t able to ride anymore due to an injury. He always said–”

At this point I fell in, and joined Éomer in reciting that phrase I heard Thengel King say over and over again: “The best decisions are made in the saddle.”

He smiled at me and said, “You would have know him, of course.”

I just nodded in response, not that I would have had much chance to speak, because before I knew it, he had crossed the room and engulfed me in a bear hug. “Aragorn, it is great to see you again. Welcome to Rohan.”

He repeated the process with Faramir, who, as much as he tried to hide it, I could tell was visibly startled by the unexpectedly amiable greeting.

“Let’s get started here, shall we? It’s just a list of questions,” he tossed his riding gloves on his desk and fished out a piece of parchment from the assorted documents, briefly showed it to us but not in a way that I could actually read any of the writing, “just some questions, that’s all there is to it. It’s an old tradition, nobody quite knows when it started, but it almost certainly started before this list was first written down.”

I glanced over at Faramir who had sat down at Éomer’s indication, but was sitting at the edge of his seat. I wished he’d sat down next to me on the divan, he looked like he could use some encouragement – and that is what I was there for, after all – but as it was, it was difficult to transport my support across the room.

“Normally it is the father of the bride who interviews the prospected bridegroom. And, normally it’s the bridegrooms brother who acts as his second. But as it is, we’ll have to make due with each other.”

After what I reckon was a respectful moment of silence for those who cannot be with us today, he started with his first question.

“So you love my sister?”

“Oh, yes my lord. Yes, I do.” Faramir seemed relieved to be able to provide a valid answer to at least the first question.

“And I understand you have kissed her?”

Faramir blushed – how charming – and nodded.

“Have you slept with her as well?”

Now my charming young steward was positively shocked. He gulped before he could answer. “No sir, most certainly not! I would never–”

“But you have slept with a woman before, yes?”

So this was what this ancient ritual was all about... I sat back amused, waiting for Faramir to make up his mind about his replied. Would he balk already now, or would Éomer be able to push him a little further?

For a moment I thought he would refuse to answer, but I had not reckoned with Faramir years of experience with awkward interrogations, far more hostile than this. When his answer came it was short and to the point.

“Yes.”

“More than once?”

“Yes.”

“And have you ever paid for it?”

Now he hesitated. “I’m not entirely certain.”

“What do you mean, you’re not certain? Either money or goods exchanged hands, or they didn’t.”

“If you’re asking if I ever paid for sexual favours, then no, I didn’t.”

“But?”

“But I suspect Boromir may have paid a girl once on my behalf; his idea of a birthday present. But I’m not entirely certain.”

“Fair enough,” Éomer briefly glanced at his list before he continued.

“How about men?”

That did it. In Gondor, there are some things one just does not talk about. Faramir blanched, then turned red, and didn’t look like he was going to say anything. I had know we were bound to reach this point, and wasn’t quite sure whether to be surprise we had arrived there this soon, or rather that Faramir had made it this far.

It wasn’t in him to lie out right, but at the same time there was a limit to what he could admit. “I could tell you what I want. You couldn’t possibly verify if I spoke true.”

I’d been sitting back thus far; amused, I must admit, by seeing Faramir struggle to answer personal questions. He could do with a little practice there, but now it was time for me to step in and take up my role as his second.

“If I may advise,” Faramir was startled when I spoke; I think he may have half forgotten I was there. “From what I have experienced during my time with the Rohirrim, I would estimate that the purpose of the exercise is not so much to test your purity, but rather to test your candour, your openness and honesty. While in Gondor people usually keep quiet about certain things, even if they are public knowledge, here far more is openly discussed, especially amongst relatives. Qualities such as candour are valued far above purity.”

Faramir took a moment to contemplate this new information, thanked me for it, swallowed his pride and turned back to Éomer, "Men. Yes, there have been men as well."

Hmm... interesting. Of course it had been clear as soon as he had hesitated to answer: he could have said ‘no’ right away. Still, to hear him say it... and men –plural– as well... interesting.

"And with these men, which position do you prefer to take?”

He was genuinely puzzled. How enchantingly innocent.

Éomer took it on himself to clarify, “Top or bottom, I believe they call it. Which do you prefer.”

I studied Faramir carefully. Openness and honesty were all well and good, but I wasn’t going to let Éomer bully my steward. Perhaps I should have put a stop to this sooner, rather than encourage him to continue answering Éomer’s questions. But he didn’t look particularly offended, if anything he looked like he was beyond caring, or otherwise determined to call Éomer’s bluff. I wondered where Éomer was going with this, and how much further he would push Faramir. Surely he would have a good reason for this “ritual”? His expression was composed, bland even, he certainly wasn’t gloating. I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt for now.

As Faramir considered his answer, I was becoming a bit curious myself. If I would have met Faramir for the first time today, I may have taken him for the kind that would prefer to bottom, to use Éomer’s term. But even though we hadn’t talked much –much to my dismay, I might add– I had observed him. There was much more to him than the shy, bookish, sensitive stereotype people who only knew him superficially usually reduced him to. Still waters run deep.

Faramir shrugged. “Either way. It depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“On the situation. The other man.”

He can be so like his brother sometimes. I had noticed it before, especially in unguarded moments, but now it was clear as day. Just like his brother: the mannerisms, the casual, confident way of speaking, even down to his preferences.

“What if I were the other man; what would you prefer?” Éomer said, openly challenging, and looking Faramir straight in the eye.

Ah–... then this is what this ceremony was all about? An elaborate attempt to seduce my steward? Well, I hadn’t seen that coming! Suddenly feeling like a third wheel, I remembered Éomer’s invitation mentioning it would be fine for Faramir to travel to Edoras by himself, without bringing the customary second.

Faramir was looking straight back at Éomer.

But if I were unwanted here, why did I receive that unexpectedly warm welcome? With such mixed messages, I decided it would be justified to stay where I was and see where it would lead and it wasn’t necessary to discretely slip out of the room to give these two some privacy.

“That is difficult to say, my lord. I do not know you very well.”

“Then would you like to get to know me?”

Faramir just raised an eyebrow in response to that. Who was challenging who now?

The young king of Rohan kicked off his boots. “Perhaps this will help you decide,” he declared as the rest of his clothes joined the heap on the floor.

One could argue that it was rather crude, cheap, certainly not very sophisticated, to make a move like this. But the boy could be forgiven. He was young and gods, he looked magnificent.

It appeared he doubted for a moment; and I briefly wondered what I would do if Faramir decided to bolt. As his second, I would be expected to join him; but to leave Éomer standing there in his naked, proud, golden glory – I wasn’t certain I could.

When Faramir got up out of his chair, at first I was convinced it was to leave, but no.

He stood inches from Éomer, looking like he was either going to punch him or kiss him, and as it turned out, it was the latter. Éomer joined in enthusiastically, immediately tugging at Faramir’s clothing to rid him of the many layers.

The Gondorians and their strange sense of modesty that forced them to wear layers of useless garments.. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. After I had rolled my eyes one time to many, Boromir had made a point of explaining it was like unwrapping a present: the suspense of undressing, the anticipation, it was all part of the fun. Éomer was getting frustrated too – and I could sympathize.

But then the final layer fell away and the sight that greeted us was certainly worth the wait. Perfect, like his brother, but not a perfect copy. Faramir had the slim, lithe lines of an archer where Boromir had had more bulk. Éomer was getting grabby but my brave steward would have none of it.

Faramir steered the king of Rohan over to face his own desk – providing me with a perfect view of proceedings, bless him – and pushed him down, keeping one hand firmly planted between Éomer’s shoulder blades to keep him there, while the other fumbled with the desk lamp to get to the oil inside.

“Stop squirming!” Faramir commanded. Opening the lamp one–handed wasn’t easy, I admired him for managing it –those nimble, agile fingers looked, well, good– but with Éomer rubbing and bucking up against him, the lamp almost went flying and Faramir smacked Éomer soundly on his hindquarters when he didn’t comply with his command immediately.

“Oh! Do that again!”

“You liked that, did you?” my supposedly shy, timid steward grinned lewdly and reached over his partner for his leather riding gloves and used them to swat Éomer’s behind a dozen or so more times.

Faramir had slid his left hand down Éomer’s spine from between his shoulders to the small of his back to steady him, but still, with each swat of the leather gloves, Éomer bucked back into the strike. From my position on the divan, I had a marvellous side view of this display. I could see exactly how Éomer’s erection jumped each time the well–worn leather licked around his buttocks. I could also see the subtle but constant rocking, thrusting motion of Faramir’s hips into nothing but thin air. I doubt he himself was even aware of it, so focused he was on the lovely blush he was creating on Éomer’s skin.

With each swat Faramir came forward a little more, and Éomer pushed back a little further, until finally, after a few heart–stopping near–hits, they finally bumped into each other. I think it surprised them both.

Foreplay was now over.

The gloves ended up on the floor, and Faramir quickly coated his fingers in lamp oil. I couldn’t see exactly what he was doing – frankly, I would have appreciated a better view of this part of the proceedings – but Éomer was clearly enjoying it.

Faramir went for a second helping of the oil, used it to coat his penis – hmm.. that looked like a job I could have done – and then started to paint oily stripes up and down Éomer’s cleft with it.

Such a tease...
So like his brother.

Were they expecting me to sit idly by?

Faramir sank into Éomer’s body now ever.so.slowly. They moaned in unison.

Were they even aware I was still here?

It seemed to take an eternity before Faramir began moving. Éomer apparently was of the same mind, because he had started bucking backwards to speed things up. Éomer grew more vocal as Faramir picked up speed, whereas my darling steward was very quiet, and utterly focused on the spot where their bodies joined.

Soon enough, Éomer was trying to touch himself, but as soon as he took one hand off the desk he started slipping and struggled to stay on his feet. The man needed help.

On my knees, I scooted in the space between the king of Rohan and his desk. He was leaking profusely, and one silvery drop was just about to fall to the floor – but not if I could help it. I lapped it up, then sucked in the head of his cock and let Faramir’s movements take control.

Éomer couldn’t stand much of this; the dual assault quickly became too much. First his moans became increasingly frantic and higher in pitch, then he actually managed to tug my hair before he had to put both hands on the desk again. I decided to take it as a compliment, and crawled a little further to see what else I could find. I briefly swiped my tongue over Éomer’s balls and perineum and then tried to wiggle the tip in alongside Faramir’s erection. Éomer positively wailed and I think he tried to kick me. Time to move on.

Faramir’s testicles were next in sight. I took them in my mouth one my one, doing my best to follow his motions, nipping and sucking. He didn’t do anything to encourage, or discourage me, nor did he make any sounds, but I noticed the muscles in his calves and thighs had started trembling.

Moving a little further still and turning around as I went – I had crawled all the way though the tunnel of their spread legs now – I ended up with my face mere inches away from Faramir’s glorious thrusting, sweaty buttocks. He even smelled like his brother.

His rhythm broke for a moment when I grabbed hold and immediately stuck my tongue inside him as far as it would go. But now I was the one who couldn’t tolerate much of this. A handful of stabs with my tongue and I was too eager to join in proper.

I stood and plastered my body up against Faramir’s back and asked “May I?”. First he looked at me dazed, but nodded eagerly when I illustrated my request with a few quick jabs of the hips.

I tried to open my leggings with one hand while at the same time reach for some oil with the other, but as it turned out, I wasn’t as co–ordinated or as dextrous as Faramir had been earlier. Hopefully none of the papers on Éomer’s desk were very important, because they were now covered in lamp oil. But he didn’t seem to mind, or hadn’t noticed, and frankly, right now I had more important things to think about too.

My fingers sunk into Faramir’s body easily after my tongue had eased the way. He stilled his movements for a moment but it was clear both of my partners were rapidly approaching a point of no return. They had a head start on me and were, no use fooling myself, quite a bit younger than I was. A mental image of both of them sated and bonelessly slumped down to the floor while I was left frustratedly unsatisfied flashed through my mind.

In my anxiety to catch up, I pushed Faramir down and fucked him harder than I would have anyone under normal circumstances. But there were no complaints, he simply spread his legs a little wider and let me push him into the man before him. It didn’t take long from there.

Éomer screamed and shuddered.

Faramir managed two more trembling thrusts before I could see and feel all his muscles tightening, including those my cock was sheathed in. And–

...

Oh.

My.

“Thank you again for coming along,” he smiled at me as he said it, but no subdued, apologetic smile this time, rather an impish smirk that spoke of things to come.

“You are very welcome,” I smirked back.

“But tell me, at what point where you on to Éomer’s scheme? When he asked you if there had been men in your past?”

“I suspected some time before that. I had a premonition something was amiss on the ride over. I was even tempted to turn back. I think, had I been alone, I would have.”

“I’m glad you decided to proceed.”

“Hmm.. What was it Thengel King used to say, again?”

I grinned back at him, “He was right, you know.”

NB: Please do not distribute (by any means, including email) or repost this story (including translations) without the author's prior permission. [ more ]

Enjoyed this story? Then be sure to let the author know by posting a comment at https://www.faramirfiction.com/fiction/the-best-decisions. Positive feedback is what keeps authors writing more stories!