Faramir Fiction Archive

Unintended Consequences (NC-17)

Written by Barbara

18 January 2010 | 1311 words

Title: Unintended Consequences
Author: Barbara (savageseraph)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Boromir/Faramir
Disclaimer: Don’t own the characters or the places. Never happed. All a product of my twisted imagination
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Comments: Written for empy for lotr_sesa 2009.

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Boromir never mastered the art of moving silently. He was no Ranger who needed to slip through the wilds without leaving a sign of his presence or passage. Not that those men didn’t possess useful skills, serve a purpose in the defense of Gondor, but they were not like the soldiers of the White Tower. If Boromir’s steps landed more heavily than normal this night, it was because his heart was heavy at the prospect of leaving his city when he was sorely needed for its defense.

Chasing a dream. Boromir shook his head. If anyone told him he’d be chasing a dream halfway across Middle Earth, he’d have sent them to the healers to tend to their addled brains. Yet here he was, ready to leave on the morrow because Faramir had a dream.

Faramir, who had never mastered the art of reading their father, who had argued bitterly to be allowed to travel to Imladris. The stronger he fought, the more Boromir saw their father’s expression and will harden against him. Faramir fought long after the field was lost, and Boromir had to give him some credit for his tenacity and for not slamming the door when he finally surrendered and took his leave of them both. It was the only sensible thing his brother had done all evening.

When he reached his own suite, Boromir smiled at the fire already crackling in the hearth and the ale and cheese ready on the table: the simple pleasures of home that would be lost to him while he was on the road. Perhaps it was because his thoughts already turned to the journey and dangers ahead that he sensed the blow coming from the shadows before it landed. Dodging to the side, he whirled around, striking blindly and hearing the satisfying sound that came from knocking the wind out of an opponent. Before Boromir could stop to think, he swung up, clipping his assailant in the jaw and dropping him neatly.

Boromir tried to shake out the stinging pain in his hand from the punch and swore when he saw his attacker was Faramir. Even now, with both of them men grown, neither of them was able to take his frustrations with his father’s decisions out on Denethor, so they turned disappointment and dissatisfaction against each other. Maybe that was what Denethor intended all along, though he couldn’t have intended-and certainly would not have approved-of the turn their fighting took.

There were other pleasures Boromir would miss on his travels, but those were anything but simple. Boromir sat on the edge of his bed and watched the light from candle and hearth play over his unconscious brother’s skin. He flexed his hand, still throbbing gently from the blow, and didn’t begrudge the ache since his punch earned him time enough to strip Faramir, haul him to the bed, and tie his brother down.

Boromir had no cunning, quicksilver rope of Elvish make that Faramir read about in some book of Elvish lore, but he didn’t need it or want it. He liked the look of the coarser hemp he’d used, the contrast of its roughness against the smoothness of his brother’s skin. He’d heard tell the corsairs knew the art of binding men in ways that would torment and tease, and if there were books on the subject, Boromir was certain the library would hold as much allure for him as it did for his brother.

Just the thought of Faramir spread and bound for an eager crew of ruffians to use made Boromir’s breeches grow painfully tight. He tugged at the laces, freeing his cock and stroking it lightly as his gaze moved over his brother and settled on Faramir’s hardening cock. Not as unaware as you’d have me think, hmm, little brother?

There was one way to tell. Boromir slipped a finger into his mouth, wet it, then pressed it slowly into Faramir. He smiled at the soft moan, only partly muffled by the gag, and the slight jerk of his brother’s hips.

“It isn’t my fault, you know.” Faramir tensed at the words, though his eyes didn’t open. “If it were up to me, I’d have sent you off to the bloody Elves.”

Faramir’s eyes snapped open as he growled, struggled against the ropes holding him down.

I may not be a Ranger, but I can tie a knot as well as you. Boromir curled his finger to rub against Faramir. His cock twitched as Faramir tightened around him. And there are many things I can do better. Boromir slid his finger free only long enough to coat it and the others with oil from a vial at his bedside table. He slid two slick fingers into Faramir, fucking him slowly as he stretched him open.

When Faramir shook his head, Boromir nodded. “Oh, but I would have, little brother. You’re so infatuated with them that I’m certain you’d bend for every one you came across. And when you came home again, you’d have a host of new perversions for us to explore, wouldn’t you?”

Faramir closed his eyes tightly as he shuddered. He whined softly, canted his hips toward Boromir in blatant invitation. There was a time when Faramir fought his need as stubbornly as he still fought with their father, but at least on this field, his brother was able to surrender and to enjoy it. Boromir slid his fingers free and moved between his brother’s legs. He savored the slow, steady slide into Faramir’s heat, each twitch and jerk and whimper as Faramir stretched to accommodate him. When he was buried balls deep, Boromir groaned deeply. He was going to miss this.

As need tangled with resentment at being sent on a fool’s errand, Boromir started fucking his brother. Normally, he’d pause once he was fully sheathed, rock his hips, make Faramir writhe and moan and try to fuck himself on Boromir’s cock, but not tonight. Before he wanted, before Faramir was ready for it, Boromir started fucking him, hard desperate thrusts that jarred Faramir’s body, forced needy cries from him. When Faramir’s hips bucked, trying to throw him off, Boromir almost faltered, but the he felt Faramir’s cock twitch between them.

“Don’t bother pretending you don’t want this, little brother.” Boromir rolled his hips, grinned as Faramir tightened around him. “That you aren’t going to miss this as much as I.” Boromir gripped Faramir’s hips, pulled him back hard into each thrust. “At least you’ll have the ache to keep you company for a time. If I could fuck you hard enough for you to feel it until my return, I would.”

Faramir shuddered, as his hips jerked. He blinked rapidly, eyes unfocused and nearly all pupil. He struggled against the bonds: need driving him to move, the ropes keeping him from it. When Boromir’s hand slipped between them, his fingers just grazing Faramir’s cock, Faramir cried out sharply. He gripped Boromir as he came, and Boromir quickly followed his brother’s lead.

Boromir was still panting from exertion as he tugged Faramir’s gag free, brought his mouth down on his brother’s, and kissed him possessively. He curled around Faramir, holding him close until the last of his shivers quieted. When he tried to do the gentlemanly thing and move off his brother, Faramir murmured a soft, “Don’t. I want to feel you harden again inside of me,” and Boromir moaned softly as he settled and rested his head on his brother’s chest.

Neither of them was happy about Boromir’s trip to Imladris, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t take some satisfaction before it.

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