Introducing, a question and a fic
Nov. 21st, 2003 04:21 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
ryhasso.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
rugbytackleHello!
I’ve just joined the community (and lj a couple of days ago thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
heathcee, who was so kind and gave me a code) and I’m utterly euphoric about it. I mean I’ve been in love with this place and all of you for weeks now, and finally I’m here!
I thought it’d be nice to bring something with me. It’s nothing special, the only A/B fic I’ve finished so far, and my first attempt at smut. Unfortunately it’s not beta-ed, and since English is not my first language there most likely are mistakes. And here my question is: who could I ask for beta reading once I finish a fic?
Title: Persuasion
Author:ryhasso
Pairing: A/B
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: A blindfold and bonds play a small part. Besides: schmoop, the word starting with L, complete lack of consistency regarding Aragorn’s thoughts and feelings.
Disclaimer: Characters and settings belong to J. R. R. Tolkien & New Line
Summary: Movie-verse plus Appendix A. In Lothlorien Aragorn finds himself in a strange situation and he’s trying to figure out what Boromir’s problem is.
Beta: not beta-ed
Feedback: I would really appreciate it.
Note: Written some time ago when I desperately needed something to cheer myself up and was blasphemously angry with the professor for making Boromir’s life so tragic. I also included here something that has been puzzling lately: did or did not Aragorn’s sex life exist during the time of his engagement to Arwen?
He tugged at the bonds but they were too strong and too perfectly tied to break free. He wriggled to find a better position on the ground. Wet grass was soft under his back like the best of beds in Imladris. Both of his hands were tied above his head, and to a tree, with thin leather straps. His eyes were folded, but he didn’t need the sight to know who his attacker was. He had smelled sweat and felt strong calloused hands removing his shirt and binding his wrists. What he didn’t know was why.
Now there were only forest sounds around him, as Galadriel’s magic kept the woods alive even in the midst of the winter. Wind in the leaves, birds singing somewhere high, flies and wasps humming, small insects crawling amid grass blades, worms in moist earth, dripping of water somewhere on his right… a stream with tiny cascades, he guessed. And a scent of the man mingled with sweet smell of lilies of the valley.
But he could not discern his breath, nor could he catch any sound of his boots. Boromir obviously was making an effort.
When he tried to turn over to lie on his stomach, and maybe then to crawl up and once again try to free himself, strong hands came out of nowhere and held him in place. His breath quickened immediately but as the hands were keeping him pinned to the ground it gradually became slower and finally ceased completely, air held in his lungs. Only then did Boromir’s palms relax on his shoulders, and subsequently travelled down his body, to his tights, knees and sheens. Then his shoes were taken off. His surprise at this action reminded him to breathe. His fear and fury diminished and of the previous feeling only confusion remained.
“What are you doing???” he gasped as warm fingers drew lazy lines from the heels of his feet to the toes. There was no answer, or rather no vocal one. Instead of it he felt his legs being put slightly apart, soft rope encircled his right ankle, light tug revealed that it was being tied to something, probably another tree. Moments later the same ordeal was conducted on his left leg. He didn’t even think about fighting. It was too absurd to be true.
The hands that travelled back to his chest, the strong legs that straddled him, uneven breath now clearly distinguishable – all these could not be real, because they had no reason to be.
“What are you doing?” he repeated, calmly and in quite business-like tone. This time the answer came in a shape of a dry warm finger on his lips. The finger, which lingered there much too long for his liking and then pressed slightly on his lower lip exposing his teeth, was now moving down his chin and neck along his larynx… and came to stop at the pendant. He heard sharp intake of air before the finger withdrew abruptly, and then the body of the other was gone as well. Aragorn heard soft steps fading in the forest. He was left alone.
The first, quite obvious and sensible thought was that Boromir must have gone insane. It would explain the whole situation. Of course nothing would explain why the Gondorian lost his mind. It could not be despair, could it? Perhaps it was just it, he thought and mentally scolded Galadriel for showing Boromir whatever it was she had showed him.
He wondered whether he was in any danger. Boromir had never liked him, true, but he was a man of honour… Only that men of honour do not usually creep on you and tie you to trees. Theoretically he could start to scream, but he believed he was more than an hour of fast walk away from Caras Galadhon. And even if someone heard him… Aragorn realised that pride could be dangerous sometimes, and that he – being almost ninety – should be well beyond it, yet still the thought of being found by an elf like that made his face burn. He decided he would wait and see. Or at least wait.
The blindfold was thick and smelled of Boromir.
***
He didn’t remember when he fell asleep. Rustling of the leaves brought him back to consciousness. Too loud to be made by an elf.
A moment later his blindfold disappeared. He had to close his eyes when the light hit them. But the hour was late and the sun had already sunk and soon his pupils adjusted. Boromir was staring at him. The gaze made him shiver. Made him regret he hadn’t screamed.
“What are you doing?” he tried for the third time.
Boromir sat down close to him. Aragorn noticed a gleam of a dagger in his hand. Suddenly he felt cold all over the body. Except the part where Boromir’s tight was pressed to his. He felt fear. Not as much, though, as he should have. Something ate a part of it and now was settling in its place. He couldn’t name it.
His blood ran fast and hot. He wanted to move. Stretch. Arch. Brush over… something. He felt fear. Tingling on his skin. He felt hot.
“What do you want???”
Boromir smiled. Greedily, Aragorn reckoned.
“What do you think?” The voice startled him. It was husky. It carried promises.
Aragorn didn’t think long. Taking him as a hostage to get…
“The ring.”
…was probably the most stupid idea ever. Apparently Boromir also thought so, because he was now laughing madly.
“Why should I want the ring of power? Am I not in power without it?”
Aragorn said naught. Something just found its place in his mind and then was swiftly moved to a drawer labelled ‘ridiculous’. Then it was taken out again when Boromir’s hand came to rest on the inside of his tight. He felt dizzy.
“Boromir? Do you feel well?”
The hand was gone and the man grinned.
“Perfectly well. And you?”
Aragorn swallowed hard and tried to accept the idea that the Steward’s heir had gone mad. It was an easier task than accepting the other idea, especially when nothing touched the inside of his tight any more and maybe after all he just imagined that…
“I am fine, though I would be even better if you were so kind and untied me.”
“No.”
Aragorn sighed.
“So what do you want?”
Boromir shocked him once more when he lay down next to him leaning on his elbow.
“For a start I want to talk.”
Aragorn tried to look at him, but his body wouldn’t turn, so he could only observe him with the corner of his eye.
“What about?” he inquired.
“About you. About… love.” Boromir’s other hand rested on Aragorn’s chest, near his heart.
“Love?” he asked wondering if Boromir could tell from his rapid heartbeat how… afraid he was. If he would use it against him, this knowledge that he had such influence on him.
“Aye. You will tell me, why do you want her if you don’t love her?”
“Who???” Aragorn briefly thought that perhaps Galadriel had a cure for insanity.
“I live for her, I breathe for her, yet it is you who shall be the king…”
Realisation dawned on him. So this was the issue – Gondor. Gondor needs no king.
“…although there is no love,” Boromir continued.
“It’s not true,” Aragorn objected.
“No?”
“I’ve made no decision yet.”
Boromir seemed startled. He leaned forth a little and looked into Aragorn’s face.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know if I ever take the throne. I don’t know if I want to,” he admitted before the Gondorian and, not for the first time, before himself. Now, when he didn’t have to be the king to win Undomiel, he didn’t have to be the king at all.
“So what was this whole speech during the Council for, Aragorn?” Boromir sat up visibly angry. “To merely put me in my place?”
“I didn’t know then.”
“Oh, so you just changed your mind?”
“Isn’t it what you wanted?” Aragorn asked irritated. The dagger lying somewhere by Boromir temporarily forgotten in the face of fury Denethor’s son evoked in him so oft. Why couldn’t he make an effort to understand?
“I know you care naught for us. Her fate means little to you. Shall I believe you decline because I wanted it?”
Bitterness of those words made Aragorn wince. He didn’t want for Boromir to believe it. He didn’t want to do any harm.
“I care, Boromir!”
“Aye, but for what?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t know how. He cared for Middle Earth. He knew that for Boromir it wouldn’t be enough. The man was almost fanatical in his devotion to his land.
“Do you remember, ranger, what I said when we first met?”
Aragorn thought for a while recalling the event. Remembering Boromir’s words, how full of hope they were.
“You said that we had a common purpose.”
“And before that? Do you remember?”
“Yes,” he did remember those very first words.
“I was so very wrong,” Boromir uttered. “Appearances are deceitful.”
The words caused pain in Aragorn’s chest. He was regretful that Boromir thought so. Because it wasn’t true, even though it looked as if it was.
“I pity you,” the man said and Aragorn turned his head sharply to look at him. The light was very dim, yet the sadness that looked out of Boromir’s eyes was unmistakeable. “An elf in all but lifespan. Loved by elves, to be king of men. Two worlds shall love you, yet you only love the one you don’t belong to. The other was naught but a way to get what you want…”
“It is not true.”
Boromir seemed not to hear him.
“I saw her. I cannot say that I completely don’t understand. She is breathtaking. But so are human women, if one cares to see. Is the pleasure of her body any more sophisticated? What ensnared you so that you were willing to pay for her with somebody else’s land?”
Aragorn bucked widely in his bonds, wrath rising in him to a level he never thought possible. If his hands were free, Boromir would be dead. Somewhere deep he was glad they weren’t. Boromir straddled his hips once more and kept him down.
“Calm, ranger,” he said. “I only wish to know.”
“I was not buying her! You seem to know nothing about elves. They do not sold their daughters…”
“Like men do?”
“Like men do!” Aragorn said infuriated.
“Aye. Humans oft marry without love. Castigate them for this! Do not notice that they do so for some other love. For some other good, which they think greater than their own happiness.”
“And are they consequent in their choices? Because all the whore houses one can find in your towns tell something else!”
“Ah! So there are no whores among elves?”
“There are not.”
“And in your life you have been only with your elf princess?”
Aragorn fell silent. Boromir smiled wickedly.
“I assume this other one was an elf as well?”
“It’s none of your business,” Aragorn snapped. He liked this conversation less and less, and he could not tell what Boromir’s point was.
“I daresay that as long as you are in my custody my business is whatever I want it to be, huh?”
“Have you lost your mind really???” Aragorn started to wriggle again in vain attempt to free himself. Boromir pressed down harder.
“No, Aragorn, not my mind,” he said. “Now, as I am curious… How are elves in passion? How does it feel to have such body under you, so old yet firm and supple?”
“Mayhap you shall ask an elf?”
“I’m asking one.”
“Stop it, Boromir, for the Valar’s sake!”
He missed the moment when the blade pressed to his throat, but he felt the cold steel now, and the rising moon revealed dangerous glimmers in Boromir’s eyes.
“Tell me, ranger, when I am asking nicely. How is it to bed an elf?”
“How should I know???”
The blade retreated, and the man atop of him was shaking with laughter.
“They said you were with her for forty years!”
“You ever heard of chastity?” Aragorn asked sarcastically.
Boromir was watching him in amazement. Finally he shook his head.
“You really must be an elf,” he said. “No man could stay… chaste for forty years.”
“If I sated your curiosity, could you set me free?”
“But you did not sate my curiosity, Aragorn. I’m still curious, and it seems I will have to find out for myself.”
Aragorn looked perplexed. He was about warning the other about the consequences of stalking elven maids when warm lips descended on his and a hot tongue invaded his mouth. These momentarily froze all thoughts. Boromir’s hands roaming over his chest and ribcage unfrozen them and he started to squirm and buck in another hopeless attempt of breaking free.
The kiss ended and Boromir leaned back smiling.
“I like it when you move so deliciously,” he said and Aragorn stopped immediately.
“What are you doing???” he panted, breathless.
“I’m sating my curiosity.”
“I am not a maid!”
“I quite noticed, Aragorn. It makes me even more curious.”
“I’m not an elf.”
“All the better. I would never forgive myself for desiring an elf.”
“What???”
“Don’t tell me you failed to notice? I fell for you the moment I saw you.”
“What???” Aragorn almost squealed, but in the same moment he saw it, back from Rivendell until this very moment, all the details he had classified as odd or as the result of Boromir not liking him now fell in place. Still, it was absurd.
He had to get free.
“Forgive me, but I do not share your… feelings,” he risked.
“Of course not. You find nothing desirable in Men.”
“It’s not—“
“True?” Boromir finished kindly. “Well… is there anything in me that you might crave?”
“I prefer women, if you don’t mind,” Aragorn retorted angrily.
“I don’t mind. And to your information I would gladly speak the same words and I would want them to be true,” Boromir said leaning down so that his lips ghosted over Aragorn’s. “But my heart, a fool that it is, made its own choice.”
Aragorn watched him stunned, and could see nothing but truth in his eyes. He felt like running away. And still he anticipated… something. Either understanding, or…
Boromir kissed him again, lightly and shortly this time. Lovingly, he could say. He had been kissed like that before. He liked the bruising kiss from before better, the one that did not remind him of Arwen and that he may never see her again.
Boromir was stroking his brow gently. Aragorn fought an urge to close his eyes and lean into the touch. It occurred to him that he needed this, and the identity of the one who was providing it suddenly didn’t matter. Or perhaps mattered more than ever.
“I will ask you a question now,” Boromir whispered. “I will ask only once. If you say ‘no’, I’ll release you immediately and will let you do what you want with me. If you say ‘yes’…” his hand hovered over the pendant, “you will have to take that off, and I will show you… I will show you how a Man can love, without any conditions except the one of exclusivity of the moment.”
Aragorn’s breath was shallow, his mind confused as he wondered how could it be that this man’s words caused his blood float down from his face into some other regions of his body, to rose them and heat them. He wondered how could it be that it happened within few seconds, and not even once before. Again he felt like running away. And he felt like staying and listening to this voice forever.
“Ask then,” he heard himself whisper.
Boromir smiled and kissed his cheek, next a corner of his mouth, and then he asked.
“Will you let me make love to you?”
Aragorn’s head was spinning, and from amid various thoughts he picked two to linger at. One that Boromir looked beautiful in the moonlight. The other was wonder at how free he felt lying there bond so, how untroubled and joyous.
“Yes,” he said and Boromir smiled before he kissed him again deeply. And this time Aragorn responded, battling the other’s tongue and smearing their mouths together, lips splitting over teeth, drawing blood, causing little pains here and there, and one greater ache in his groin. He had never felt such bliss and such desire, and he wanted it to last forever.
But Boromir ended the kiss. His hands found the fastening of the pendant and in seconds the Evenstar was gone. Boromir wrapped it in Aragorn’s shirt and put aside with greatest care. Then he met his eyes as if asking if he still was all right with that. Aragorn wriggled. Some blood lingered on Boromir’s lip and he wanted to lick it away. He had the chance when the Gondorian bent forward to kiss him again, briefly this time, before he continued down his jaw, neck and collarbone leaving wet tracks and making Aragorn gasp. His hands moved up and down the ranger’s sides causing gooseflesh. When Boromir’s tongue swirled around his nipple Aragorn mewled softly. He felt the man smiling over his skin, and then blowing lightly. He arched into the other’s body as much as ties let him.
“Has anyone ever done it to you?” Boromir mumbled into his navel as his fingers played with the ranger’s nipples.
“Nggg…” Aragorn managed eloquently.
“I had this feeling that those large beds that occupy Imladris bedrooms are wasted intolerably,” Boromir smiled and moved down to the other’s feet massaging them lightly and then sucking on the toes. Aragorn’s mewling got louder and Boromir could swear he heard his name panted softly now and then. It developed better than he expected.
“Aragorn?” he said rising over the man. “Aren’t you uncomfortable in these trousers? They seem tight… in some places. Don’t you want to get rid of them?”
“Aye…”
“Shall I take them off?” he asked teasingly.
“Please…”
And so Boromir cut the ropes that tied Aragorn’s ankles and reached up to tug on the waistband gently. Aragorn, no longer confined, raised his hips zealously.
“Eager, are we?” Boromir chuckled. “Mayhap you will find something alluring in Men after all.” He pulled the trousers down Aragorn’s hips and legs revealing flat abdomen and strong tights. And rock-hard cock. Boromir licked his lips idly before he rather unwillingly set his gaze on Aragorn’s face.
“I’ve never imagined that I shall want someone so much,” he whispered and rose to take off his clothes. “If only you could understand…”
“Perhaps I do.” Aragorn spoke hoarsely, and, as more and more of Boromir’s body was revealed to him, he knew he did, for never in his life had he felt so afire, so shameless and so self-conscious at the same time. Never had he craved anyone’s touch so badly and never felt such carnal desire and such warm gentleness together about anyone. “I want you,” he growled when Boromir divested himself of his breeches at last and kneeled above him. Strength and pride he epitomized, when Aragorn’s feelings were of carnal lust and wild ardour.
“I dreamt of you saying this…” Boromir’s eyes moved over the ranger’s body, his index finger drew a path from the base of Aragorn’s cock to the top, where pearly liquid gathered. He traced the tiny cleft there smearing the semen delicately. Aragorn groaned lusciously, the sound prompting Boromir to settle between his tights. Then he bent a little and maintaining the eye contact with the other he licked the head lightly and then enveloped the whole of him in one swift motion. Aragorn screamed. Boromir moved along his hardness painfully slowly, taking him in and out and swirling his tongue in madly patterns over the head and foreskin. When Aragorn thought he couldn’t stand it any longer and that he would come any second now, the divine heat abandoned his cock and without any timidity descended on his mouths silencing all the protests. Boromir’s hand now pumped him, warm but dry, and together with his slick tongue and swollen lips clinging to Aragorn’s own it created waves of ecstasy, one after another, until hot fluid surged from within him and into welcoming palm. In this very moment Aragorn felt entirely vulnerable and utterly safe, exposed and protected. He felt special, and he felt that the one who did it to him was special too, so he growled his name cherishing him, and the voice was swallowed, the gift not for other’s ears.
Then Boromir broke the contact and leaned back, and a moment later, before even Aragorn managed to open his eyes, his legs were parted more and slippery fingers settled in the cleft of his buttocks and began to stroke gently until one of them outlined the tight opening of his body.
“If I had known it would ever come to this, I would have watched more closely how is it supposed to be done when I had chance,” he murmured. Aragorn opened his eyes and smiled.
“I have never had a chance,” he said amused. “Just… do what you think is right.”
“That I will,” Boromir replied and pushed the first finger in. Aragorn gasped and tensed, but at that moment Boromir started to plant small kisses along his tight and hip, and soon the tension was gone and the finger inside him moved slightly back and forth, and then a little more forth, and then—
“Oh!” Aragorn gasped and Boromir smiled knowingly and repeated the movement making Aragorn grow breathless and once again hard. The ranger’s mind was witty enough to let him marvel how this could feel so wonderfully, how could it be that Boromir was doing this to him and he accepted and wanted more. And for how long had it been in him, this what he felt about Boromir right now? Because he desired to whisper words that – once spoken – could not and should not be taken back. And he realised he could, since Arwen was but a memory. Although she still kept a part of his heart, he no longer owed her loyalty.
But it seemed that Boromir didn’t expect vows as an exchange for pleasure he was giving to him and when the second finger joined the first one, he bent forward and bestowed a lingering kiss on Aragorn’s lips. As their tongues were sliding together Boromir added one more finger and pushed deep stretching him impossibly but amazingly not uncomfortably. Aragorn wantonly tried to impale himself on the fingers even more. Boromir leaned back again, leaving Aragorn feeling unexpectedly lonely and unhappy, and reached among his clothes. He took out a small wooden vial and when he opened it Aragorn smelled rich scent of lilac. He glanced with curiosity at the vial.
“It’s elvish,” he stated looking at Boromir questioningly.
“Aye,” he said and poured generous amount of oily substance on his palm. “I got it from Galadriel.”
Aragorn would have questioned him further since it hit him as odd, in the best case, but the sight of the man spreading the lubricate over his cock somehow distracted him. And then Boromir was between his tights, spreading them and lifting, and once again he pushed his fingers into Aragorn’s smooth passage hitting the sweet spot and causing waves of rapture wash over him.
“I want to be in you,” Boromir breathed.
“I want you in me,” Aragorn managed between gasps. “I want you… I…”
Boromir’s fingers were gone and his cock took their place, pushing gently but persistently. The pain was rather dull than sharp, and although it seemed to last an eternity Aragorn did not try to move away. He began to doubt whether it was possible at all to be breached so, but then something gave way and Boromir slid in slowly and smoothly, the gliding converting the pain into pleasure and fullness and making his cock weep. His eyes never left Boromir’s and he saw there the same ecstasy, and gratitude, and respect. And he understood what was happening to him and accepted it, because it was the right moment and he couldn’t imagine a better one.
“I’m falling,” he whispered.
“Holding… you,” Boromir whispered back as he began to thrust, gently at first and then with more fervour, hitting the sweet spot inside Aragorn’s body every single time. It was too intense to last long and so Boromir’s hand enveloped Aragorn’s hardness. Few thrusts were enough to send Aragorn over the edge, and the pulsing of his muscles made Boromir follow him a moment later. He plunged the other mouths before he slid from his body and lay down beside him.
“I love you,” Boromir said then, but no answer came, so he was lying there not seeing actually as the other man smiled contently. “I won’t be surprised,” Boromir continued after a while, “if you say you want to forget it. But for me… it meant more than… more than…” he grew silent and just looked at the stars.
“Could you untie me?” Aragorn spoke at last, and so Boromir reached for the dagger and swiftly cut the bonds, avoiding looking into the other’s face. But in the next moment he was lying pinned to the ground and Aragorn’s eyes bore into his with intensity that could set the world on fire.
“I would be surprised if I said I want to forget it,” he growled, “because it would be a lie. As a lie would be saying that I don’t love Gondor. Or Men. Or one mad heir to stewardship.”
Boromir’s smile was covered with Aragorn’s eager lips as the ranger’s agile hands explored his body for the first time.
“Now,” Aragorn said when they parted for air, “tell me how it exactly happened that Galadriel gave you this vial?”
THE END
I’ve just joined the community (and lj a couple of days ago thanks to
heathcee, who was so kind and gave me a code) and I’m utterly euphoric about it. I mean I’ve been in love with this place and all of you for weeks now, and finally I’m here!I thought it’d be nice to bring something with me. It’s nothing special, the only A/B fic I’ve finished so far, and my first attempt at smut. Unfortunately it’s not beta-ed, and since English is not my first language there most likely are mistakes. And here my question is: who could I ask for beta reading once I finish a fic?
Title: Persuasion
Author:
ryhassoPairing: A/B
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: A blindfold and bonds play a small part. Besides: schmoop, the word starting with L, complete lack of consistency regarding Aragorn’s thoughts and feelings.
Disclaimer: Characters and settings belong to J. R. R. Tolkien & New Line
Summary: Movie-verse plus Appendix A. In Lothlorien Aragorn finds himself in a strange situation and he’s trying to figure out what Boromir’s problem is.
Beta: not beta-ed
Feedback: I would really appreciate it.
Note: Written some time ago when I desperately needed something to cheer myself up and was blasphemously angry with the professor for making Boromir’s life so tragic. I also included here something that has been puzzling lately: did or did not Aragorn’s sex life exist during the time of his engagement to Arwen?
He tugged at the bonds but they were too strong and too perfectly tied to break free. He wriggled to find a better position on the ground. Wet grass was soft under his back like the best of beds in Imladris. Both of his hands were tied above his head, and to a tree, with thin leather straps. His eyes were folded, but he didn’t need the sight to know who his attacker was. He had smelled sweat and felt strong calloused hands removing his shirt and binding his wrists. What he didn’t know was why.
Now there were only forest sounds around him, as Galadriel’s magic kept the woods alive even in the midst of the winter. Wind in the leaves, birds singing somewhere high, flies and wasps humming, small insects crawling amid grass blades, worms in moist earth, dripping of water somewhere on his right… a stream with tiny cascades, he guessed. And a scent of the man mingled with sweet smell of lilies of the valley.
But he could not discern his breath, nor could he catch any sound of his boots. Boromir obviously was making an effort.
When he tried to turn over to lie on his stomach, and maybe then to crawl up and once again try to free himself, strong hands came out of nowhere and held him in place. His breath quickened immediately but as the hands were keeping him pinned to the ground it gradually became slower and finally ceased completely, air held in his lungs. Only then did Boromir’s palms relax on his shoulders, and subsequently travelled down his body, to his tights, knees and sheens. Then his shoes were taken off. His surprise at this action reminded him to breathe. His fear and fury diminished and of the previous feeling only confusion remained.
“What are you doing???” he gasped as warm fingers drew lazy lines from the heels of his feet to the toes. There was no answer, or rather no vocal one. Instead of it he felt his legs being put slightly apart, soft rope encircled his right ankle, light tug revealed that it was being tied to something, probably another tree. Moments later the same ordeal was conducted on his left leg. He didn’t even think about fighting. It was too absurd to be true.
The hands that travelled back to his chest, the strong legs that straddled him, uneven breath now clearly distinguishable – all these could not be real, because they had no reason to be.
“What are you doing?” he repeated, calmly and in quite business-like tone. This time the answer came in a shape of a dry warm finger on his lips. The finger, which lingered there much too long for his liking and then pressed slightly on his lower lip exposing his teeth, was now moving down his chin and neck along his larynx… and came to stop at the pendant. He heard sharp intake of air before the finger withdrew abruptly, and then the body of the other was gone as well. Aragorn heard soft steps fading in the forest. He was left alone.
The first, quite obvious and sensible thought was that Boromir must have gone insane. It would explain the whole situation. Of course nothing would explain why the Gondorian lost his mind. It could not be despair, could it? Perhaps it was just it, he thought and mentally scolded Galadriel for showing Boromir whatever it was she had showed him.
He wondered whether he was in any danger. Boromir had never liked him, true, but he was a man of honour… Only that men of honour do not usually creep on you and tie you to trees. Theoretically he could start to scream, but he believed he was more than an hour of fast walk away from Caras Galadhon. And even if someone heard him… Aragorn realised that pride could be dangerous sometimes, and that he – being almost ninety – should be well beyond it, yet still the thought of being found by an elf like that made his face burn. He decided he would wait and see. Or at least wait.
The blindfold was thick and smelled of Boromir.
***
He didn’t remember when he fell asleep. Rustling of the leaves brought him back to consciousness. Too loud to be made by an elf.
A moment later his blindfold disappeared. He had to close his eyes when the light hit them. But the hour was late and the sun had already sunk and soon his pupils adjusted. Boromir was staring at him. The gaze made him shiver. Made him regret he hadn’t screamed.
“What are you doing?” he tried for the third time.
Boromir sat down close to him. Aragorn noticed a gleam of a dagger in his hand. Suddenly he felt cold all over the body. Except the part where Boromir’s tight was pressed to his. He felt fear. Not as much, though, as he should have. Something ate a part of it and now was settling in its place. He couldn’t name it.
His blood ran fast and hot. He wanted to move. Stretch. Arch. Brush over… something. He felt fear. Tingling on his skin. He felt hot.
“What do you want???”
Boromir smiled. Greedily, Aragorn reckoned.
“What do you think?” The voice startled him. It was husky. It carried promises.
Aragorn didn’t think long. Taking him as a hostage to get…
“The ring.”
…was probably the most stupid idea ever. Apparently Boromir also thought so, because he was now laughing madly.
“Why should I want the ring of power? Am I not in power without it?”
Aragorn said naught. Something just found its place in his mind and then was swiftly moved to a drawer labelled ‘ridiculous’. Then it was taken out again when Boromir’s hand came to rest on the inside of his tight. He felt dizzy.
“Boromir? Do you feel well?”
The hand was gone and the man grinned.
“Perfectly well. And you?”
Aragorn swallowed hard and tried to accept the idea that the Steward’s heir had gone mad. It was an easier task than accepting the other idea, especially when nothing touched the inside of his tight any more and maybe after all he just imagined that…
“I am fine, though I would be even better if you were so kind and untied me.”
“No.”
Aragorn sighed.
“So what do you want?”
Boromir shocked him once more when he lay down next to him leaning on his elbow.
“For a start I want to talk.”
Aragorn tried to look at him, but his body wouldn’t turn, so he could only observe him with the corner of his eye.
“What about?” he inquired.
“About you. About… love.” Boromir’s other hand rested on Aragorn’s chest, near his heart.
“Love?” he asked wondering if Boromir could tell from his rapid heartbeat how… afraid he was. If he would use it against him, this knowledge that he had such influence on him.
“Aye. You will tell me, why do you want her if you don’t love her?”
“Who???” Aragorn briefly thought that perhaps Galadriel had a cure for insanity.
“I live for her, I breathe for her, yet it is you who shall be the king…”
Realisation dawned on him. So this was the issue – Gondor. Gondor needs no king.
“…although there is no love,” Boromir continued.
“It’s not true,” Aragorn objected.
“No?”
“I’ve made no decision yet.”
Boromir seemed startled. He leaned forth a little and looked into Aragorn’s face.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know if I ever take the throne. I don’t know if I want to,” he admitted before the Gondorian and, not for the first time, before himself. Now, when he didn’t have to be the king to win Undomiel, he didn’t have to be the king at all.
“So what was this whole speech during the Council for, Aragorn?” Boromir sat up visibly angry. “To merely put me in my place?”
“I didn’t know then.”
“Oh, so you just changed your mind?”
“Isn’t it what you wanted?” Aragorn asked irritated. The dagger lying somewhere by Boromir temporarily forgotten in the face of fury Denethor’s son evoked in him so oft. Why couldn’t he make an effort to understand?
“I know you care naught for us. Her fate means little to you. Shall I believe you decline because I wanted it?”
Bitterness of those words made Aragorn wince. He didn’t want for Boromir to believe it. He didn’t want to do any harm.
“I care, Boromir!”
“Aye, but for what?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t know how. He cared for Middle Earth. He knew that for Boromir it wouldn’t be enough. The man was almost fanatical in his devotion to his land.
“Do you remember, ranger, what I said when we first met?”
Aragorn thought for a while recalling the event. Remembering Boromir’s words, how full of hope they were.
“You said that we had a common purpose.”
“And before that? Do you remember?”
“Yes,” he did remember those very first words.
“I was so very wrong,” Boromir uttered. “Appearances are deceitful.”
The words caused pain in Aragorn’s chest. He was regretful that Boromir thought so. Because it wasn’t true, even though it looked as if it was.
“I pity you,” the man said and Aragorn turned his head sharply to look at him. The light was very dim, yet the sadness that looked out of Boromir’s eyes was unmistakeable. “An elf in all but lifespan. Loved by elves, to be king of men. Two worlds shall love you, yet you only love the one you don’t belong to. The other was naught but a way to get what you want…”
“It is not true.”
Boromir seemed not to hear him.
“I saw her. I cannot say that I completely don’t understand. She is breathtaking. But so are human women, if one cares to see. Is the pleasure of her body any more sophisticated? What ensnared you so that you were willing to pay for her with somebody else’s land?”
Aragorn bucked widely in his bonds, wrath rising in him to a level he never thought possible. If his hands were free, Boromir would be dead. Somewhere deep he was glad they weren’t. Boromir straddled his hips once more and kept him down.
“Calm, ranger,” he said. “I only wish to know.”
“I was not buying her! You seem to know nothing about elves. They do not sold their daughters…”
“Like men do?”
“Like men do!” Aragorn said infuriated.
“Aye. Humans oft marry without love. Castigate them for this! Do not notice that they do so for some other love. For some other good, which they think greater than their own happiness.”
“And are they consequent in their choices? Because all the whore houses one can find in your towns tell something else!”
“Ah! So there are no whores among elves?”
“There are not.”
“And in your life you have been only with your elf princess?”
Aragorn fell silent. Boromir smiled wickedly.
“I assume this other one was an elf as well?”
“It’s none of your business,” Aragorn snapped. He liked this conversation less and less, and he could not tell what Boromir’s point was.
“I daresay that as long as you are in my custody my business is whatever I want it to be, huh?”
“Have you lost your mind really???” Aragorn started to wriggle again in vain attempt to free himself. Boromir pressed down harder.
“No, Aragorn, not my mind,” he said. “Now, as I am curious… How are elves in passion? How does it feel to have such body under you, so old yet firm and supple?”
“Mayhap you shall ask an elf?”
“I’m asking one.”
“Stop it, Boromir, for the Valar’s sake!”
He missed the moment when the blade pressed to his throat, but he felt the cold steel now, and the rising moon revealed dangerous glimmers in Boromir’s eyes.
“Tell me, ranger, when I am asking nicely. How is it to bed an elf?”
“How should I know???”
The blade retreated, and the man atop of him was shaking with laughter.
“They said you were with her for forty years!”
“You ever heard of chastity?” Aragorn asked sarcastically.
Boromir was watching him in amazement. Finally he shook his head.
“You really must be an elf,” he said. “No man could stay… chaste for forty years.”
“If I sated your curiosity, could you set me free?”
“But you did not sate my curiosity, Aragorn. I’m still curious, and it seems I will have to find out for myself.”
Aragorn looked perplexed. He was about warning the other about the consequences of stalking elven maids when warm lips descended on his and a hot tongue invaded his mouth. These momentarily froze all thoughts. Boromir’s hands roaming over his chest and ribcage unfrozen them and he started to squirm and buck in another hopeless attempt of breaking free.
The kiss ended and Boromir leaned back smiling.
“I like it when you move so deliciously,” he said and Aragorn stopped immediately.
“What are you doing???” he panted, breathless.
“I’m sating my curiosity.”
“I am not a maid!”
“I quite noticed, Aragorn. It makes me even more curious.”
“I’m not an elf.”
“All the better. I would never forgive myself for desiring an elf.”
“What???”
“Don’t tell me you failed to notice? I fell for you the moment I saw you.”
“What???” Aragorn almost squealed, but in the same moment he saw it, back from Rivendell until this very moment, all the details he had classified as odd or as the result of Boromir not liking him now fell in place. Still, it was absurd.
He had to get free.
“Forgive me, but I do not share your… feelings,” he risked.
“Of course not. You find nothing desirable in Men.”
“It’s not—“
“True?” Boromir finished kindly. “Well… is there anything in me that you might crave?”
“I prefer women, if you don’t mind,” Aragorn retorted angrily.
“I don’t mind. And to your information I would gladly speak the same words and I would want them to be true,” Boromir said leaning down so that his lips ghosted over Aragorn’s. “But my heart, a fool that it is, made its own choice.”
Aragorn watched him stunned, and could see nothing but truth in his eyes. He felt like running away. And still he anticipated… something. Either understanding, or…
Boromir kissed him again, lightly and shortly this time. Lovingly, he could say. He had been kissed like that before. He liked the bruising kiss from before better, the one that did not remind him of Arwen and that he may never see her again.
Boromir was stroking his brow gently. Aragorn fought an urge to close his eyes and lean into the touch. It occurred to him that he needed this, and the identity of the one who was providing it suddenly didn’t matter. Or perhaps mattered more than ever.
“I will ask you a question now,” Boromir whispered. “I will ask only once. If you say ‘no’, I’ll release you immediately and will let you do what you want with me. If you say ‘yes’…” his hand hovered over the pendant, “you will have to take that off, and I will show you… I will show you how a Man can love, without any conditions except the one of exclusivity of the moment.”
Aragorn’s breath was shallow, his mind confused as he wondered how could it be that this man’s words caused his blood float down from his face into some other regions of his body, to rose them and heat them. He wondered how could it be that it happened within few seconds, and not even once before. Again he felt like running away. And he felt like staying and listening to this voice forever.
“Ask then,” he heard himself whisper.
Boromir smiled and kissed his cheek, next a corner of his mouth, and then he asked.
“Will you let me make love to you?”
Aragorn’s head was spinning, and from amid various thoughts he picked two to linger at. One that Boromir looked beautiful in the moonlight. The other was wonder at how free he felt lying there bond so, how untroubled and joyous.
“Yes,” he said and Boromir smiled before he kissed him again deeply. And this time Aragorn responded, battling the other’s tongue and smearing their mouths together, lips splitting over teeth, drawing blood, causing little pains here and there, and one greater ache in his groin. He had never felt such bliss and such desire, and he wanted it to last forever.
But Boromir ended the kiss. His hands found the fastening of the pendant and in seconds the Evenstar was gone. Boromir wrapped it in Aragorn’s shirt and put aside with greatest care. Then he met his eyes as if asking if he still was all right with that. Aragorn wriggled. Some blood lingered on Boromir’s lip and he wanted to lick it away. He had the chance when the Gondorian bent forward to kiss him again, briefly this time, before he continued down his jaw, neck and collarbone leaving wet tracks and making Aragorn gasp. His hands moved up and down the ranger’s sides causing gooseflesh. When Boromir’s tongue swirled around his nipple Aragorn mewled softly. He felt the man smiling over his skin, and then blowing lightly. He arched into the other’s body as much as ties let him.
“Has anyone ever done it to you?” Boromir mumbled into his navel as his fingers played with the ranger’s nipples.
“Nggg…” Aragorn managed eloquently.
“I had this feeling that those large beds that occupy Imladris bedrooms are wasted intolerably,” Boromir smiled and moved down to the other’s feet massaging them lightly and then sucking on the toes. Aragorn’s mewling got louder and Boromir could swear he heard his name panted softly now and then. It developed better than he expected.
“Aragorn?” he said rising over the man. “Aren’t you uncomfortable in these trousers? They seem tight… in some places. Don’t you want to get rid of them?”
“Aye…”
“Shall I take them off?” he asked teasingly.
“Please…”
And so Boromir cut the ropes that tied Aragorn’s ankles and reached up to tug on the waistband gently. Aragorn, no longer confined, raised his hips zealously.
“Eager, are we?” Boromir chuckled. “Mayhap you will find something alluring in Men after all.” He pulled the trousers down Aragorn’s hips and legs revealing flat abdomen and strong tights. And rock-hard cock. Boromir licked his lips idly before he rather unwillingly set his gaze on Aragorn’s face.
“I’ve never imagined that I shall want someone so much,” he whispered and rose to take off his clothes. “If only you could understand…”
“Perhaps I do.” Aragorn spoke hoarsely, and, as more and more of Boromir’s body was revealed to him, he knew he did, for never in his life had he felt so afire, so shameless and so self-conscious at the same time. Never had he craved anyone’s touch so badly and never felt such carnal desire and such warm gentleness together about anyone. “I want you,” he growled when Boromir divested himself of his breeches at last and kneeled above him. Strength and pride he epitomized, when Aragorn’s feelings were of carnal lust and wild ardour.
“I dreamt of you saying this…” Boromir’s eyes moved over the ranger’s body, his index finger drew a path from the base of Aragorn’s cock to the top, where pearly liquid gathered. He traced the tiny cleft there smearing the semen delicately. Aragorn groaned lusciously, the sound prompting Boromir to settle between his tights. Then he bent a little and maintaining the eye contact with the other he licked the head lightly and then enveloped the whole of him in one swift motion. Aragorn screamed. Boromir moved along his hardness painfully slowly, taking him in and out and swirling his tongue in madly patterns over the head and foreskin. When Aragorn thought he couldn’t stand it any longer and that he would come any second now, the divine heat abandoned his cock and without any timidity descended on his mouths silencing all the protests. Boromir’s hand now pumped him, warm but dry, and together with his slick tongue and swollen lips clinging to Aragorn’s own it created waves of ecstasy, one after another, until hot fluid surged from within him and into welcoming palm. In this very moment Aragorn felt entirely vulnerable and utterly safe, exposed and protected. He felt special, and he felt that the one who did it to him was special too, so he growled his name cherishing him, and the voice was swallowed, the gift not for other’s ears.
Then Boromir broke the contact and leaned back, and a moment later, before even Aragorn managed to open his eyes, his legs were parted more and slippery fingers settled in the cleft of his buttocks and began to stroke gently until one of them outlined the tight opening of his body.
“If I had known it would ever come to this, I would have watched more closely how is it supposed to be done when I had chance,” he murmured. Aragorn opened his eyes and smiled.
“I have never had a chance,” he said amused. “Just… do what you think is right.”
“That I will,” Boromir replied and pushed the first finger in. Aragorn gasped and tensed, but at that moment Boromir started to plant small kisses along his tight and hip, and soon the tension was gone and the finger inside him moved slightly back and forth, and then a little more forth, and then—
“Oh!” Aragorn gasped and Boromir smiled knowingly and repeated the movement making Aragorn grow breathless and once again hard. The ranger’s mind was witty enough to let him marvel how this could feel so wonderfully, how could it be that Boromir was doing this to him and he accepted and wanted more. And for how long had it been in him, this what he felt about Boromir right now? Because he desired to whisper words that – once spoken – could not and should not be taken back. And he realised he could, since Arwen was but a memory. Although she still kept a part of his heart, he no longer owed her loyalty.
But it seemed that Boromir didn’t expect vows as an exchange for pleasure he was giving to him and when the second finger joined the first one, he bent forward and bestowed a lingering kiss on Aragorn’s lips. As their tongues were sliding together Boromir added one more finger and pushed deep stretching him impossibly but amazingly not uncomfortably. Aragorn wantonly tried to impale himself on the fingers even more. Boromir leaned back again, leaving Aragorn feeling unexpectedly lonely and unhappy, and reached among his clothes. He took out a small wooden vial and when he opened it Aragorn smelled rich scent of lilac. He glanced with curiosity at the vial.
“It’s elvish,” he stated looking at Boromir questioningly.
“Aye,” he said and poured generous amount of oily substance on his palm. “I got it from Galadriel.”
Aragorn would have questioned him further since it hit him as odd, in the best case, but the sight of the man spreading the lubricate over his cock somehow distracted him. And then Boromir was between his tights, spreading them and lifting, and once again he pushed his fingers into Aragorn’s smooth passage hitting the sweet spot and causing waves of rapture wash over him.
“I want to be in you,” Boromir breathed.
“I want you in me,” Aragorn managed between gasps. “I want you… I…”
Boromir’s fingers were gone and his cock took their place, pushing gently but persistently. The pain was rather dull than sharp, and although it seemed to last an eternity Aragorn did not try to move away. He began to doubt whether it was possible at all to be breached so, but then something gave way and Boromir slid in slowly and smoothly, the gliding converting the pain into pleasure and fullness and making his cock weep. His eyes never left Boromir’s and he saw there the same ecstasy, and gratitude, and respect. And he understood what was happening to him and accepted it, because it was the right moment and he couldn’t imagine a better one.
“I’m falling,” he whispered.
“Holding… you,” Boromir whispered back as he began to thrust, gently at first and then with more fervour, hitting the sweet spot inside Aragorn’s body every single time. It was too intense to last long and so Boromir’s hand enveloped Aragorn’s hardness. Few thrusts were enough to send Aragorn over the edge, and the pulsing of his muscles made Boromir follow him a moment later. He plunged the other mouths before he slid from his body and lay down beside him.
“I love you,” Boromir said then, but no answer came, so he was lying there not seeing actually as the other man smiled contently. “I won’t be surprised,” Boromir continued after a while, “if you say you want to forget it. But for me… it meant more than… more than…” he grew silent and just looked at the stars.
“Could you untie me?” Aragorn spoke at last, and so Boromir reached for the dagger and swiftly cut the bonds, avoiding looking into the other’s face. But in the next moment he was lying pinned to the ground and Aragorn’s eyes bore into his with intensity that could set the world on fire.
“I would be surprised if I said I want to forget it,” he growled, “because it would be a lie. As a lie would be saying that I don’t love Gondor. Or Men. Or one mad heir to stewardship.”
Boromir’s smile was covered with Aragorn’s eager lips as the ranger’s agile hands explored his body for the first time.
“Now,” Aragorn said when they parted for air, “tell me how it exactly happened that Galadriel gave you this vial?”
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Date: 2003-11-22 02:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-22 10:03 pm (UTC)Oh, I love your icon. So cute. : )
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Date: 2003-11-22 05:44 am (UTC)“I’m falling,” he whispered.
“Holding… you,” Boromir whispered back - very nicely done. Look forward to reading more!
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Date: 2003-11-22 10:06 pm (UTC)Hey!
Date: 2003-11-22 03:26 pm (UTC)We should do a survey... :)
Your story above was lovely.
Re: Hey!
Date: 2003-11-22 10:10 pm (UTC)It's amazing here, isn't it? And the whole S/V thing is highly addictive.
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Date: 2003-11-23 02:46 am (UTC)Welcome and I'm glad you're here. Very nice story. Like how they started out at odds and ended up in love. Write more, please!
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Date: 2003-11-23 09:15 pm (UTC)