Faramir Fiction Archive

The Time to Rejoice (NC-17)

Written by Kissa

22 December 2006 | 11846 words

Chapter 7

He lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling on which moonbeams played. He heard his door being open and soft footfalls approaching. Smiling , he sat up and looked at the slender figure, saying:

“Welcome, beloved. I was sad to see you missing and afraid you would not come.”

The cloaked figure spoke back:

“There is nothing that would hold me back from being in your arms.”

He came near the bed, almost within Aragorn’s reach, but not quite, and he paused. Removing the cloak, he unveiled a wonderfully sculpted, marble-like naked torso. He had tied a white ribbon across his chest and, opening his arms, Faramir waited for Aragorn’s say on his offering.

The King said nothing, to Faramir’s distress, but instead he got up and began removing his own robe, and if it hadn’t been for the enrapturing smile on the older man’s face, Faramir would have definitely thought Aragorn had got up to chase him out of the room and to punish his insolence. This way, he was pinned in place, watching as the king slowly got rid of his clothes.

Naked, Aragorn was a sight to behold. Faramir blushed instantly, feeling a bit dizzy at the thought of the most wonderful man on Arda letting him see such a thing. Looking up and shyly skipping over Aragorn’s manhood, Faramir’s eyes were attracted by a stripe of fabric, a red ribbon identical to the white one he’d worn.

He was jerked out of his amazement by Aragorn’s voice:

“Do you like what you see, lovely Faramir? Does the sight please you?”

Gods! the young steward thought, he is asking me if I’m pleased?! Well, how could I not be?

“May I… touch you, Aragorn?” Faramir said aloud, his voice dying out into a mewl.

The king stepped closer, until he could untie the white ribbon across Faramir’s chest. Smiling, he nodded and took one of the young man’s hands, placing it on his own chest.

“Do with me as you wish!” Aragorn purred, moving Faramir’s hand towards the left side and over a pert nipple.

The steward first untied Aragorn’s red ribbon, blushing as he whispered:

“Red stands for passion…”

“As white stands for innocence-“ Aragorn purred, right before seizing Faramir and pulling him close for a fierce, yet loving kiss. Their groins, separated only by the thin fabric of Faramir’s breeches, rubbed against each other and twitched.

“How do you want this, Faramir? How do you want me?” Aragorn spoke in a hoarse tone as he kissed a trail down his lover’s neck.

“I… I don’t know what to do, Aragorn. I always saw us together with you making me yours….and it felt so good in my imagination!” Faramir spoke in a dreamy voice.

Next thing he knew, he was scooped up and carried to the bed, flopped onto it unceremoniously and pounced on.

“It will feel even better if you are wide awake to feel every touch, you will see!” Aragorn said in a raspy voice, then began to lick Faramir all over with small, but determined swipes.

The young man arched up, trying to get closer to the source of his pleasure, but Aragorn pinned him down by entwining their fingers on the soft sheets and pressing Faramir’s hands with his. They both groaned at the new sensations and Aragorn gave in to the temptation, lowering himself on the slender man, rubbing his groin against Faramir’s own.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Aragorn released his lover’s fingers and slid lower, kissing his way down the quickly rising and falling torso, licking over a hairless chest and small, responsive nipples, all the way down to the navel, in which he dipped his tongue and played a bit, thrilled to taste Faramir’s skin and to elicit such wanton sounds from him.

Getting closer to the young one’s arousal, Aragorn looked up to see if Faramir would let him do what he wanted so badly. Licking the fluid which seeped from the small slit, he saw Faramir buck and shut his eyes in abandon, which he took as his cue to begin paying attention to his lover’s proud member.

The smallest lick made the steward yelp in surprised pleasure, and when Aragorn swallowed the top part of his shaft, carefully dragging his teeth over the sensitive skin and sucking strongly at the throbbing head.

“Aragorn!” Faramir called rather mindlessly. “What you are doing to me… feels so good…”

“Does it now? Hmmmm….” Aragorn hummed around his member, “Want to try and show me?”

For a moment, Faramir froze, trying to make sure Aragorn had really asked for that. He was new at all this, but he desperately wanted to give something back for all the tenderness and love he’d been shown by this one man… his King… his lover.

He nodded quickly and watched as Aragorn shifted position so that now he was straddling Faramir’s shoulders and bending over to take him in his mouth again. Hesitantly, Faramir opened his mouth and closed it around the tip of the hard and heavy shaft, trying to be gentle and to give as much pleasure as he was receiving.

Faramir’s first touch to his shaft was maddening and it made Aragorn rear up and release a howl into the night. When he came back down to bend to his task, he noticed the view was somewhat restricted and parted Faramir’s legs with his hands, grabbing his hips from underneath and pushing them upward, which resulted in him swallowing Faramir whole, sucking around him to try and prevent gagging. He wanted to see all of Faramir, so he parted his buttocks and looked avidly.

The Steward found what they were doing incredibly lewd and pleasurable, and he also realized that not only did he not dislike Aragorn’s taste, he loved it and wanted more, wondering briefly if Aragorn would agree to come in his mouth. He felt powerful for the first time and in an incredibly arousing way when he felt his older lover’s shaft swell and pulse under his attentions, but soon he was deprived of the sensation as Aragorn moved off of him and sat near him, panting and watching greedily, raking his eyes over a heaving torso, a retracted belly and a swollen shaft, still glistening with the traces of his oral assault.

“Gods, Faramir… we should do this more often… it was… Gods!”

Faramir’s mind was only focused on the rising wave of sensation which washed over him, letting him know what he needed in that moment, and he could only nod at Aragorn’s words.

“Aragorn… I…” he began, feeling his tongue wasn’t cooperating.

The older man lay next to him, took him in his arms and put a leg over Faramir’s shaking ones.

A finger was pressed to his lips and Faramir heard Aragorn speak:

“I know what you want, my treasure. I can see it in your eyes, it shines so beautifully and clearly… I feel like every moment that goes by without me inside you is torture, but no way will I make our first time a rushed or a painful experience.”

“Don’t hold back because of me. I can take pain!” Faramir gasped, writhing as one of his lover’s fingers grazed over one of his nipples. Aragorn kissed him to silence his protests, which died into little moans and annoyed mewls. Was the King stalling?

“Uh-huh!” Aragorn cautioned. “There will be no more pain for you, as long as I can help it. I know you can take it, but you do not deserve it…. You never have!”

Another passionate kiss silenced Faramir again and Aragorn’s mind reeled from the realization of what they were about to do. Thankful now for a few very embarrassing lessons about male physiology which Elrond had taught him back when he was training as a healer, he bent to his task with the utmost care for the pure and perfect being in his arms.

“Faramir… before we lose ourselves in our bodies and reason fails us… I want you to know I love you. More than I have loved anyone or anything in my life.” Aragorn said, and reading the question Faramir did not dare ask in his eyes, he added: “Yes, even more than Arwen.”

“I love you too, Aragorn… And nothing else matters.” Faramir said, gathering all his calm to be able to speak.

Smiling, Aragorn kissed him again before he slid lower and parted Faramir’s legs to settle between them. He returned his attention to Faramir’s leaking shaft, stroking it tenderly and pressing kisses and little licks to the underside, licking over the drawn up balls and lower, over the flat plain which led to Faramir’s untouched entrance. All the while, he kept caressing the insides of the young man’s thighs, making him quiver and beg for him to hurry.

Reaching the small opening, Aragorn pulled back a little to look avidly at his lover’s body, laid out and uncovered only for his eyes to see. Feeling humbled and overwhelmed by the happiness which had been bestowed on him, he mentally thanked the Valar before leaning back down and pressing a kiss to Faramir’s most intimate spot, letting his fingers trace gently the place which he had kissed.

Faramir’s hips bucked up and off the bed, and Aragorn waited for him to settle back down before he went any further, getting more and more aroused at the sight of a writhing, pleading Faramir.

He bent back down and licked around and across the quivering entrance, loving the feel of it pulsing beneath his lips and enjoying his lover’s sounds of pleasure. Parting Faramir’s legs further and lifting them up by the knees, Aragorn gained better access to his target and thrust his tongue inside Faramir, which earned him a choked yell from his willing victim.

Even if he had begun this with the detachment of the healer, knowing that nothing about the man he loved was disgusting, Aragorn found himself loving the taste and silky feel of Faramir’s secret places, wanting to feel him more with every press of his tongue inside the warm channel. Not forgetting to stroke and tease Faramir’s member, Aragorn brought him to a devastating completion first, before continuing.

Faramir lay in a boneless puddle on the bed, feeling open and exposed, but safe and loved. All he was seeing was his caring and gentle older lover, his Aragorn, whom he did not have to share with anyone now or for the future.

When fingers slick with flower-scented oil replaced Aragorn’s tongue, Faramir whined a bit at the loss, but then his lover bent down and licked his cooling seed off his belly, which brought tears to the young man’s eyes. Never would he have hoped for anyone to love him to that extent, let alone hope that the very King he worshipped would be the one to love him so.

Aragorn took his time stretching Faramir’s entrance, making sure all his four fingers fit easily inside. Although he was rather long and slender, like the elves, Aragorn wanted to avoid causing his lover any pain.

Looking into Faramir’s eyes, Aragorn saw the trust and the love shining in them and once again he felt humble… and blessed. Images from the past flashed in front of his mind’s eye, bringing back the sight of a man reading an ancient scroll with a baby resting peacefully in his arms, his little head pressed to the man’s chest. It was as if, since then, he had known a great bond would form between Faramir and him.

And now that bond would be sealed.

Faramir would have a multiple first time that night. First time being made love to, first time being in the arms of someone who shared and returned his love, first Yule… the thought put even more pressure on Aragorn, but he did not have the time to think of such abstract things too much, as a needy squeak got past Faramir’s lips and he was pulled down to lie on top of the slightly slimmer man.

“Are you alright, meleth?” he asked softly.

A nod reassured him and, pressing his lips to Faramir’s, he took his mouth fiercely as with one hand he lined himself up and slowly pushed in.

Faramir’s passage was relaxed and well-oiled, but it was still awesomely tight around him. He had only got his head inside, and already he was so close to spilling. Steeling himself and trying to control his body the best way he could, Aragorn pushed further inside, his eyes never leaving Faramir’s, looking for any sign of pain. All he saw was profound devotion and adoration shining back at him.

The young Gondorian had tensed in the beginning, but Aragorn had been so skilled at diverting his attention with a heated kiss, that he had not felt any pain, and all he was feeling now was an overwhelming feeling of being finally completed, as if something had always been missing from him. The physical sensation was even more dazzling as Aragorn’s silky hard length dragged over his sensitive inner walls and over…

Gods! What was that?! Faramir almost panicked at the blinding pleasure which annihilated his consciousness for a split second. With the next slow inward thrust from Aragorn, it happened again, and it made him cant his hips so that his body would accommodate the shaft deeper and make the drag over his spot last longer.

Aragorn was not less dazed by the experience. Faramir’s body felt so hot, so soft inside and so tight around him, unlike anything else he’d ever known. It was so intense that tears clouded his vision and he leant closer, blindly searching for Faramir’s mouth and speeding up the pace of his thrusts as his body dictated.

“Yes, oh gods Aragorn, yes!” Faramir nearly shouted, trying to get the words out before his breath caught. Aragorn’s shaft had been tormenting his newly-discovered spot relentlessly, and the older man’s movements above him had only served to overstimulate his member, which lay hard and squashed between them.

Faramir found the most devastating and fulfilling completion in his life, gripping the sheets and trembling violently as his seed spilled hotly between them, soiling their bellies. At the same moment when his body gave up its thick essence, Faramir’s tears flowed freely, running down his cheeks silently. He had been all alone for so long, he had gotten used to leading a hermit’s life and now he was claimed by the only man whom he loved with all his heart.

The channel he was buried in to the hilt contracted around him, and Aragorn was caught into his own release like in a whirlpool, rearing up and arching his spine in abandon while his seed shot forth into Faramir’s welcoming heat.

Not having regained full control of his senses yet, Aragorn lay panting on top of Faramir, nibbling his ear and licking the side of his face slowly.

“That was…-” he tried to speak, “I love you, my Faramir!”

Gentle, trembling hands came up to caress his sweaty shoulders.

“Aye, I am yours now, Aragorn. You have given me the perfect gift for my first Yule.” Faramir whispered in awe.

“Nay, it is you who have made me the happiest man on Arda. You are so pure and precious! I swear I will never let any harm come to you as long as there is life in me!” Aragorn replied passionately. He moved slowly, pulling out of his lover’s body as soon as his member softened, trying to cause a minimum of pain.

“Have I hurt you, love?” Aragorn asked carefully after some silent cuddling and kissing.

“You are my healer,” Faramir said, meaning more than one thing, “- and you could never hurt me!”

They lay naked between the soft sheets, Aragorn holding Faramir close after having kissed his tears away, until dawn broke, Anor rising over a city completely covered in snow.

Aragorn went outside to the terrace, uncaring of his nakedness and the fact that Éomer and Legolas could see him from the next balcony, leaning on the edge of the railing and watching the sun rise and color the snow in the nuances of the rainbow. It wasn’t long before he felt a blanket being tucked around him and Faramir’s worshipping hands holding it in place. The Steward, always observant of the rules of decency, had put a robe on before joining him outside. Smiling, Aragorn took one of Faramir’s hands and pulled him flush against his front, settling his chin on his lover’s shoulder and pointing at the horizon.

“Is it not wonderful, beloved? This is what a new beginning looks like… You have given me the hope I thought had deserted me for ever.” The King spoke.

Blushing modestly, Faramir found he had nothing to add, and turned his head around asking for a kiss, which Aragorn gave promptly, not caring there were people watching.

“Happy Yule, Faramir!” Aragorn said breathlessly when the kiss finally ended.

“Happy Yule, Aragorn… my love!” answered Faramir.

In the next balcony, one Rohirrim King was getting very aroused by watching the reserved former Ranger with the young Prince of Ithilien, and while his hand snaked down to grasp Legolas’ length, the puffy elf was rolling his eyes, thinking:

Not again, not for the fifth time this morning!

~ END! ~

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