Faramir Fiction Archive

Young Love (R)

Written by Minx

26 September 2009 | 1540 words

Title: Young Love
Author: Minx
Rating: R
Pairings: Faramir/OMC, Boromir/OMC
Warnings: Violence, Non-con
Summary: Faramir thinks he has found love

Written for the ‘Forsaken’ prompt on the 50Darkfics LJ community

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“I don’t understand,” Faramir gulped, staring up at the man he’d thought was his lover.

“Well you really are stupid then,” the other man gritted out, his usually warm and charming voice, now cold and unkind.

Faramir gaped at the words, and reached out for the other man, his slender fingers grasping a well-muscled arm, only to be shoved away forcefully. He fell back, stumbling as the back of his knees hit the bed, and landed in an ungainly sprawl on the bed.

“I don’t understand,” he whispered again, suddenly terrified by the expression on the larger man’s face, “Why do you say we can share this no more? I – I thought –”

He had thought in his young, inexperienced mind, that he had found a friend who would be far more than a friend. He had submitted himself to the other man, marvelling at the thought that among all his peers, the son of one of his father’s oldest councillors had selected him.

At nineteen, he was still not as tall as Boromir, far less strong, and certainly far less a warrior. Haleth was all of that. They had met on the practise grounds, as Faramir trained for the rangers, many months ago. Haleth had spent time with him, and he, aching from the loneliness caused by Boromir’s frequent departures, had soaked up the attention. Haleth’s words to him had always been sweet, and as they discovered common interests, Faramir had been reminded of the tales of love in the old books.

When Haleth had kissed him, he had reciprocated eagerly. They had moved on from that kiss swiftly to gentle touches and for weeks now, he had been frequenting Haleth’s chambers almost every night, eagerly craving to pleasure his lover. The courtesans that his brother had arranged for him on his thirteenth birthday, had introduced him to the art of lovemaking but Haleth had shown him much more in these few weeks.

“Because you are of no use,” his once lover shouted.

Faramir flushed unhappily, “Why do you say that?’ he whispered, “Because I did not want to do what you asked for three nights ago?”

The other man snorted.

“Forgive me,” Faramir spoke hurriedly, “I – I am just unused to – to all this. It seemed strange, and I- I was sc- worried… we can do it now if you like…” he couldn’t help but shiver as he thought of what Haleth had suggested they could do with the items he had brought. It had sounded as though it would hurt! Haleth had frowned then and called him prudish. Faramir had sought to allay his annoyance by simply pushing the older man back on the bed and taking him fully and swiftly into his mouth, just the way he liked. His throat had ached all day after that, but Haleth had not seemed angry then, as he was now.

He rose slowly so he was seated on the bed, and began to remove the bindings of his tunic.

“Oh for Eru’s sake!” Haleth screamed. “It has nothing to do with that… and I wouldn’t even try it with someone as pathetic as you. I have other bedmates who would do that far better than you ever could!”

“You – you have others?” Faramir stared at him in confusion.

“Don’t you get it, you fool? This meant nothing to me!”

“N- nothing? But I thought… you said… you said I… that you…” he stammered, reddening as he remembered the words they’d whispered to each other each night.

“I thought the closer I would be to you, the closer I would get to the Steward and the faster I could get my command! How was I to know you were the ill-favoured son? If it were not for the Steward’s words at the dinner this evening, I would never have realised how thoroughly useless you are!”

Faramir started at that, flushing even more as he recollected the dinner earlier and the vocal manner in which Denethor had yet again, ridiculed him publicly and dismissed his views as ill-informed ramblings. He had looked away then, wearied by the familiar scorn, trying to lose himself in the thought of the night that he’d thought awaited him. He’d hoped then to forget his worries and exhaustion in Haleth’s arms.

Haleth meanwhile was continuing to speak, “If I had known that, I would have gone with Boromir when he propositioned me. Fool was I, to be taken in by your comely looks!”

“Wh-what?” Faramir blurted out, “B-Boromir… you would rather… why didn’t you then? Why come after me at all?” He angrily brushing away the wetness from his cheeks.

“You looked easier,” Haleth said, calmly, “Boromir had others. You appeared to have none. I should have guessed then that you were wanting!”

Faramir rose, anger warring with despair inside him.

“Very well. I shall leave then, and I wish you luck with my brother!” he snapped out. “Farwell,” he said, and turned to walk away.

And then the anger overtook him, for he was young still. He turned back and struck the unsuspecting Haleth across his cheek.

Haleth’s head snapped back, from the suddenness of the gesture, but he recovered swiftly. Faramir stood still, shocked by his own violent action.

“You hit me!” Haleth roared, and grabbed at Faramir. He shook the smaller man angrily.

Faramir cried out as he was shaken so roughly. He felt a trickle of fear within him. Haleth looked furious, as Faramir had never seen him before, and his strong arms had him in a vice-like grip.

“Let me go.” he tried to speak as calmly as he could, but his voice thinned in his distress, “You would clearly rather be with someone else. I will therefore relieve you of my presence.”

“Oh no,” Haleth said, one still grasping Faramir’s shoulder. He rubbed at his reddened cheek. “Just for this, I am going to have a celebration of our last night together. I am going to give you a thrashing as you would never have experienced!”

He pushed Faramir back onto the unkempt bed, holding him down as he placed his large hands on his shoulders, and began tugging at his clothes.

“Y-you can’t do this!” Faramir gasped out, struggling and kicking out, as his tunic came undone.

Haleth dodged the flailing leg, and fisted his free hand heavily into Faramir’s bare stomach.

Faramir cried out in pain and curled up in the bed, sobbing.

“I can.” Haleth gritted out, one hand still on Faramir’s shoulder, holding him down, “What could you do about it? Tell someone? What will you say? That I hit you? How would you explain what you do in my chambers late in the night, or why you lie here half naked before me? Would you tell them that each night these last three weeks, I have spent myself inside you?”

Faramir stilled, his face flushed with shame. He could never speak of this, and Haleth knew that well. It was not the practise in Gondor to lie with other men openly, unless one were away at camp, far from the womenfolk. And though many a young lord practised it, Boromir included, it was an act kept highly discreet, for fear of being seen as a lesser man.

His father dismissed him as weak even otherwise. Should word of Faramir’s nightly trysts reach him… the young man trembled, unwilling to even imagine the consequences.

“I knew you’d agree,” Haleth smirked, as he removed his thick leather belt, and ran a hand down its length, “Just this one last reminder.”

Faramir let Haleth tug down his pants to his ankles. He took the blows from the belt in silence, gritting his teeth as the leather slapped haphazardly across his bare back and buttocks and thighs, the metal tip of the buckle scratching his skin painfully.

After a dozen strokes, he tried of the beating and threw the belt away. Shoving apart Faramir’s legs, he entered him unprepared. Faramir stayed silent even as pain shot through his lower back. Haleth grasped his hips roughly, and thrust in harder, leaning forward to whisper into Faramir’s ears, calling him a whore.

The next evening, Faramir stood hidden behind a trellis, aching all over, his back, buttocks and hips covered in bruises, his entrance still sore and inflamed, and watched Haleth flirt with his brother in the private gardens, displaying a coyness and a humility that Faramir had never seen before. Boromir accepted the advances graciously and most discreetly, as he always did. He leaned heavily against the wall as he watched; cloth unravelled and soon the moonlight played over the pale skin of their heaving, jointed bare bodies. Rhythmic grunts wafted up to where he stood, and then their soft long-drawn guttural moans, almost in tandem. Faramir stumbled back into his chambers, eyes blinded by tears, choking as the bile rushed to his throat.

A week later, even as the bruises on Faramir’s back and stomach were still healing, Haleth was given his command.

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