Faramir Fiction Archive

The King, the Prince and the Steward (R)

Written by Jenny Elffan

29 May 2007 | 1921 words | Work in Progress

Pairing: Faramir/Boromir
Rating: R
Summary: Aragorn wants Faramir. The brothers discuss what to do about that
Warnings: Incest, but adult and consensual, and just kisses and cuddles
Disclaimer: These characters all belong to the Tolkien estate. I’m just playing with them, and making no money from it
Author’s notes: AU. The war of the Ring is over, Boromir didn’t die (hooray!) but Denethor did (hooray!), Boromir is now Steward, Faramir is Prince of Ithilien, and Aragorn is the King.

This story happens some time after my story Brothers and Lovers. (You don’t need to read that one first.)

---

The King, the Prince and the Steward

“Has Prince Faramir arrived yet?”

“Yes, my Liege. He arrived a short time ago and is in his chambers.”

“Good, I will visit him there.”

The servant paled. He was fairly certain that Lord Boromir would be with his brother.

“Would you like me to fetch Lord Faramir, my Liege?”

“No, thank you. I think the exercise will be good for me. I spend far too long sitting behind a desk these days.”

The servant began to panic. He knew that the brothers would not welcome the intrusion. The relationship between them was known, accepted and deemed unremarkable in Minas Tirith and was never commented on. However, the new King had not been raised in Gondor and his view of the relationship might be very different. Desire to spare his Lords the possible wrath of their king loosened his tongue further.

“I could run to Lord Faramir’s chambers, my Liege, and bring him back swiftly.”

Aragorn looked at the servant oddly.

“No, please do not bother. I shall go myself.”

“As your lordship pleases.”

The servant looked stricken. Aragorn pondered on the possible reasons for this. Perhaps he suspected that Faramir would be bathing. Aragorn rather hoped he would be. The thought of Faramir naked and wet caused Aragorn to harden.

He had been very attracted to Boromir but Boromir had firmly resisted his advances. When questioned about the existence of a lover in Gondor, Boromir just smiled and shook his head. Certainly since their return to Minas Tirith there had been no sign of a lover, but Boromir still resisted his overtures.

Aragorn had first met Faramir in the Houses of Healing and had felt an instant attraction to him. He looked very like his brother but his features were softer and his manner gentler. Perhaps he would be more amenable to Aragorn’s advances. And maybe if he were not so very willing, he would obey his king’s commands.

Aragorn stopped dead, appalled at the thought that he would make Faramir feel obliged to do his will, and even more appalled at the lust that ran through his veins at the thought of Faramir at his command, bent to his will. He almost decided to turn round and return to his room and send the servant to fetch Faramir after all, but he decided that he would not be beaten by such unworthy thoughts.

Boromir was indeed in his brother’s chambers, his hands and mouth fully occupied with the delights his brother’s body held for him.

Aragorn’s years as a Ranger had left him with the ability to walk silently along the corridors of Minas Tirith and the brothers weren’t aware of his approach until they heard the voice of the guard posted outside Faramir’s door, slightly louder than was necessary.

“My Liege! Do you wish to see Prince Faramir?”

“I do. Is he within his chambers?”

“He is, my Liege,” said the guard, his voice becoming louder. “Shall I announce you, my Liege?”

Inside the chamber, the brothers were hurriedly refastening their tunics and smoothing down ruffled hair. The flushed faces and the kiss-swollen lips they could do nothing about.

“No, I thank you. There is no need.”

“As you wish, my Liege.”

The guard opened the door, making a great deal of noise with the handle as he did so. Aragorn stepped inside. Boromir and Faramir moved forward to meet him.

“Aragorn,” said Boromir, inclining his head.

“My Liege,” said Faramir, dropping to one knee and lowering his head.

“This is an unexpected show of respect from you, Boromir, though you still have a lot to learn from your brother,” said Aragorn, admiring the submissive pose of the younger brother.

Faramir kept his head down, hoping that the lust-induced blush would vanish from his cheeks. Aragorn reached down for his hand and raised him to his feet.

“It is good to see you again, Faramir. You don’t visit frequently enough. I trust the journey was uneventful?”

“Thank you, sire. It was a pleasant journey.”

“Aragorn, please. There is no need to be so formal when we are alone.”

“Aragorn,” repeated Faramir dutifully.

“I came to ask if you would dine with me tonight, Faramir.”

Faramir cast a glance at his brother.

“Boromir, sadly, won’t be able to join us. He has to visit the widows of several of his soldiers.”

“Tonight, Aragorn?”

“Tonight, Boromir.” His tone brooked no argument.

Both brothers looked at the floor. This was cruel. Faramir had known the king would wish to see him tonight but he had expected that Boromir would be there too. He raised his head.

“Thank you, Aragorn. I shall look forward to it.”

“Good! Good! So shall I. Now I’m sure you will wish to bathe after your long journey. Boromir, a word with you outside.”

Boromir followed the king out of the room, casting one last despairing glance at his brother before he did so.

Boromir returned to his brother’s chambers late that night when most of the citadel was in darkness. Faramir was sitting up in bed, naked.

“How was dinner?” Boromir asked, undressing himself and getting into bed next to his brother.

“The dinner was fine but Aragorn was… well… difficult. He talked about you a lot, which was all right until he started asking me about your lovers and if you had anyone special in Minas Tirith.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“I told him the truth, that I’d never seen you with anyone, and that you never mentioned being attracted to any particular woman here!”

Boromir snorted.

“I began to relax when he stopped talking about you, but then he started to ask me the same questions about myself. Well, I answered in the same way but he asked was there any special man I was attracted to.”

“Oh, love! What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything, I just did this,” and Faramir turned on his brother such a look of bewildered innocence that even Boromir was almost taken in. Almost.

“Was he convinced?”

“I think he was, but I also think he wants to relieve me of my innocence.”

Boromir could well see the attraction, but Faramir was his.

“It’s easily dealt with. If Aragorn is attracted to your supposed virginity, all I need to do is tell him that you have been whoring yourself out to anyone who wanted you since you were about 15, and that you could scarcely contain you delight when you were given your own company of Rangers!”

“You bastard!” said Faramir, rolling on top of his brother and kissing him soundly. “Well I shall just tell him that you raped me when I was 15 and I haven’t been able to stand the intimate touch of another person since!”

Boromir snorted again.

“As I remember it, my dear despoiled little brother, there was no rape, you were 16 and you very thoroughly seduced me!”

“Well, that might be a little nearer the truth,” admitted Faramir.

“But seriously, Fara,” said Boromir, tipping his brother off him and turning on his side to face him, “what are you going to do if Aragorn makes a play for you?”

“I really don’t know.”

They lapsed into silence, cuddling each other for comfort. Boromir struggled with himself for some time before asking, “How do you feel about Aragorn?”

“I wouldn’t dare feel anything about Aragorn, knowing I’d have to answer to a great hulking brute like you if my eyes wandered and I let my hands follow.”

The jesting tone in Faramir’s voice was obvious, but Boromir was deadly serious.

“That’s just the point. I’m a great hulking brute, interested pretty much exclusively in battles and weaponry, and Aragorn knows so much about the things you are interested in; books, history, poetry, Elves, not to mention the fact that he is graceful and gentle, for the most part. And he’s your king. It would be difficult to say no if he really wanted you.”

Faramir listened with growing incredulity. He propped himself up on one elbow, the better to see his brother’s face in the flickering candlelight.

“You are serious, aren’t you, Boromir? Aragorn is all of those things and I enjoy spending time with him and learning from him. And he is my king and I owe him my allegiance, but he doesn’t command my body, not for that purpose, anyway. I will go into battle if he commands it, but he has no right to command me into his bed.”

He kissed his brother lightly on the lips.

“The only one who can command my body into his bed is you, for my body is yours, as is my heart and my soul. Please, Boromir, never think that you could lose me. I cannot give away something that is no longer mine. You have me, body and soul, love and life.”

Faramir looked into his brother’s eyes that were brimming with tears, and he felt himself beginning to drown.

Aragorn was well pleased with the evening. He lay in his bed, hard and frustrated, but in his mind, he had plenty of delicious images of the young prince to make things all the more sweet when he finally took himself in hand.

Faramir had arrived at his chambers somewhat soberly dressed but looking edible all the same, quiet and respectful, still inclined to say My Liege and Sire unless reminded not to. The meal had been both a delight and a torture, Aragorn watching every morsel of food as it passed between Faramir’s lips and wondering what those same lips would look like when stretched around Aragorn’s arousal. Aragorn took said organ into his hand and began to stroke gently.

“Hmmm. Perhaps some oil…

He reached across to his bedside table, uncorked a small jar of fragranced oil and poured some on to his hand. His hand slid easily over the flesh now and Aragorn moaned with the sensation.

When the meal was ended, Aragorn invited Faramir to sit on the couch and Aragorn sat close to him. They talked of many things, Faramir surprising and delighting him with his knowledge. He was less knowledgeable about his brother’s love-life. Momentarily he thought it strange for brothers who so often spoke and acted as one to know so little about each other, but Faramir appeared guileless.

And then the questions about himself and that oh-so-desirable look of innocence when asked about his relationships with other men. Aragorn groaned at the memory and his hand moved faster over his flesh. Oh yes, he would enjoy introducing Faramir to the pleasures of the flesh. Oh yes, he would enjoy moulding that one to his own desires. Faramir was naturally submissive and eager to please. Oh yes, it would not be long before Aragorn had him on his knees, on his back, bent over a desk, maybe even bound. Oh yes. Oh yes. Ohh yeeeessssss!

TBC

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-king-the-prince-and-the-steward. Positive feedback is what keeps authors writing more stories!