Faramir Fiction Archive

The Healer (NC-17)

Written by Lilith

30 March 2004 | 11127 words

Chapter 5

As dawn cast its first light into the room, Faramir stirred to find the sleeping king's arms still around him. It was strange that this was such a comfortable position. Accustomed as he was to sleeping out of doors, he usually found it hard to relax with another so nearby. Not that the opportunity had arisen since the king had reclaimed Gondor – and his love. His earlier skirmishes with the men of the forest were now childhood memories, meaningless compared to the awakening that he had experienced in his three years with Aragorn.

Gazing into his lover's face, Faramir noticed the lines and creases that those three years had left. His skin still bore faint signs of living rough, though these were gradually fading. Even his hands were not as calloused as they had been when they first touched him in the Houses of Healing. He still remembered the terrible power and love in those hands as they willed him back from death, though he would gladly have gone. Aragorn's hands still managed to evoke this feeling, and Faramir knew he would willingly follow him anywhere he led.

But right now, there was no need to lead or be led. The king still looked very tired, and showed no signs of waking, and Faramir had no early morning duties. A wonderful feeling of love engulfed him and he nestled back into the comforting embrace.

---

He woke not too much later to see the sun just above the horizon. Still early. His lover was searching his own face as he had done earlier.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," the king said, as he leaned over to kiss his lips softly.

"Mmmm," Faramir murmured as he roused himself. "Did you sleep well, my love?"

"Very well indeed. I have enough strength for ten men."

Faramir laughed. "Well, you shan't have ten men, just one very demanding man who did not get enough of you last night." He bit the king's chest, his teeth causing just enough sting to make Aragorn gasp, before soothing him with tender kisses. The steward then attacked his nipple, sucking, biting, and licking it in an exquisite combination of pleasure and pain. The taste of the king's skin, his clean sweat from the ride mingled with their exertions the previous night, was blissful. Faramir feasted on his lover's body, hungrily devouring the other nipple and bringing it to attention.

Then he slid his body down, nibbling the king's stomach, his bites eliciting moans of pleasure from Aragorn. As he lapped up the saltiness of their dried seed, he felt his lover's erection rise up to his chest. He let it lay momentarily, occasionally brushing against it with his own body, prolonging the king's agony as he carefully licked clean the flat stomach before him.

Finally he drew his head down to Aragorn's engorged shaft. He cupped his balls in his hands while his tongue delicately licked the head. He was rewarded with a wet bead that bubbled from the tip. With this encouragement, Faramir rolled his tongue around the top of the shaft before expertly engulfing it completely in his mouth. Aragorn groaned in ecstasy as the hot, moist mouth sucked him hard. Faramir felt the throbbing in his mouth echoed between his own legs, and gave himself over to the feeling as the king exploded into his hungry mouth.

Aragorn pulled Faramir down onto the bed with him, sucking and kissing his mouth as his hands greedily explored his body. The steward felt himself tense as one of Aragorn's long fingers dipped into the crease between his legs, not from pain but from the nearness of rapture.

"Aragorn, take me," the steward moaned desperately.

"Yes, my love, I cannot wait to be inside of you." Faramir moaned again in response as the king's fingers probed deeper. Then they abruptly disappeared. Faramir groaned in momentary disappointment until he saw the king reach for the vial he'd conveniently left on the bedside table. He saw the king smile as the faint scent of almonds wafted through the air. Faramir knew this was Aragorn's favourite fragrance; over the years, it had become his own favourite as well.

Faramir positioned himself on a pillow and spread his legs as he watched Aragorn oil himself carefully. He gently stroked his own cock, and saw the king smile at his boldness. Their eyes locked as Aragorn inserted a single finger into Faramir's very eager but still very tight hole. A flicker of discomfort in his eyes was washed away as Aragorn's finger stretched the muscle, relaxing it enough to send in another well-oiled finger. Faramir moaned loudly now, pushing his pelvis toward the king, and Aragorn felt his cock grow larger in anticipation.

"Take me now, Aragorn," the steward demanded, and Aragorn happily obliged. Faramir felt the flaming penetration of his lover's cock. The king was rocking slowly against him now, sliding steadily in, and Faramir felt the blissful impatience as he longed to be completely filled.

"Harder," he begged.

"Patience," said Aragorn, even as he increased his pace. Faramir's velvety passage never failed to excite him, but the tightness that he felt now was intoxicating. He felt the steward's knees digging into his waist, urging him on as he thrust rhythmically into his lover's body.

Faramir closed his eyes as waves of pleasure washed over him. Aragorn's hands were stroking his cock, and the slippery oil created an unbearably exquisite sensation. He felt the eruption arise from deep inside him, and arched harder against Aragorn, tempting him in deeper until they were both overcome and they climaxed together.

"My love," Aragorn said gently as he drew himself out of his lover, "how are you."

His lover's shining grey eyes told him everything he needed to know, but Faramir replied, "I am wonderful. You were wonderful. But you always are."

The king smiled at this and gently kissed his lips. "You are just as wonderful, my dear. And I wish that I had the strength to do that to you again right away, but I am so tired."

Faramir was troubled by this. The king did look very weary, more so than he had ever seen him. But more than that, it was not like Aragorn to complain. In fact, he was the one that usually was hurt, and Aragorn was the one that soothed him. Well, perhaps it was time that he returned the favour.

"What is troubling you, my lord? Is there nothing I can do?"

"My dear one, you just did an amazing amount to help me. I cannot think of anything that I needed more than that."

"But begging your pardon, my liege, I *am* your steward. There is more I can do than – than what we just did." He coloured slightly at these last words, and the king smiled. "Granted, there is little that I wish to do more."

Then Faramir said solemnly, "I am your steward. I am yours to command."

Aragorn was struck by the formality and authority in his lover's tone, and matched it as he bowed his head and said, "And your service is gratefully accepted by the king and by Gondor."

Then taking Faramir's hand, he said, "Yes, I am tired, and yes, I do want to rest. And that is why I am here. Well, one of the reasons I am here," he added, bestowing a loving kiss on his steward's forehead. "Ithilien is much more relaxing than those tiresome council halls in Minas Tirith. It seems I can never get away from those bureaucrats."

"Perhaps I can help, sire," Faramir said eagerly. "I was brought up to be a councillor, and I am well accustomed to their tedium. Perhaps I could take some of the strain from your shoulders, perhaps I could attend meetings, perhaps I – "

His words were swallowed as Aragorn's mouth engulfed his own in a passionate kiss that wiped away any thought of councillors or meeting halls.

When they finally drew apart, Aragorn said, "There is plenty of time to think of that later, my love. But now, I think we should clean up and see about starting the day."

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