Seduction
There was an irresistible magnetism about Aragorn that inwardly
infuriated Boromir. A Ranger had no right to command his attention
this way, even if a King did... but Boromir acknowledged no King.
This man had no entitlement to Boromir's attention. He should stop
in place. He should turn down the next corridor and leave this
upstart claimant to Gondor's throne to talk to himself... but he
couldn't. Boromir spun out a few possibilities that justified his
lingering in Aragorn's company. They would soon be companions on the
road and so they should act accordingly. This man was a trained
Ranger and his opinion of the road was important. The elves and the
wizard, Gandolf, seemed to think Aragorn someone who should be
listened to, and Boromir was under instructions from his father to
take what the elves told him to heart. All of those reasons seemed
valid enough, but all Boromir knew was he 'wanted' to be near
Aragorn. He had felt the urge to approach Aragorn when he'd first
seen the man looking up from his book, and Boromir likely would have
if he hadn't been so caught off guard at not noticing the Ranger
sooner. The man's gaze had qualities of a shuttered flame. Boromir
had wanted to speak but his tongue hadn't worked so he'd retreated
to keep his dignity intact. Looking sideways at the man even now,
Boromir 'wanted' Aragorn.
That last thought came out of nowhere and rattled Boromir to the
soles of his feet. He stumbled and might have fallen if it weren't
for a steadying grip on his arm. That touch, however had it's own
dangers. Boromir flinched and pulled away as if the contact burnt
him. "What trickery?" Pale eyes open wide, Boromir stepped back
until his spine met the cool of a wall. His gaze swept up and down
the man before him raising heat that prickled under his skin.
"You merely stumbled. I caught you. Is that a problem, Boromir?"
There was that devilish lilt in Aragorn's voice and his eyes
glittered, pinning the younger man in place. "We are to be
companions, shield brothers... it seemed the right thing, to begin
looking out for you even now."
Boromir's face heated suddenly then chilled just as quickly. That
term meant different things in different kingdoms and he had no idea
which one Aragorn referred to. His gaze dropped to the smooth floor
and he sought after another line of speech to cover the rush of
arousal attempting to flood through him. He refused to entertain
such thoughts as Aragorn's nearness provoked, not now, not here. "I
should think the halflings will take more care than either you or I.
It's a powerful responsibility, looking out for those little ones. A
task Gondor must aid with. My father taught me to take
responsibility very seriously." That seemed a safe line conversation
and mentioning his father invariably reinforced Boromir's
self-control in every way.
After seeing him first in the shrine of the broken blade, then again
at Elrond's council... Aragorn couldn't help but compare Boromir to
slowly rising storm.
At first glance Boromir seemed the very image of his father in face
and form. The Steward was a straightforward man of Gondor,
dependable and welcome as rain on farmland. The warrior's solid
frame and fierce expression mimicked his father, Denethor, as did
the general shape of his features but there was something more to
Boromir. Something impossible to grasp, like a shock of wild
lighting flashing over the darkness of the forest. That strangeness
appeared most often in Boromir's light green eyes, a gift from his
mother. That duality and depth showed up in his manner as well.
Boromir's father's temperament showed in every public move the son
made. Well-earned pride in his people and his own achievements gave
Boromir the courage to stand up and speak his mind, to fight for
whatever was best for Gondor. But it seemed even as one face was
turned to the world another was hidden safely away, only to shown in
flashes, perhaps to either an empty room or just one or two close
friends. It had been near on painful to watch the look of wonder and
reverence for Isildur's mural and sword snuff out as soon as Boromir
realized that he was not safely alone in the dimly lit alcove.
Aragorn's love for Arwen was impossibly deep and abiding. He loved
his elf-maid with his very soul, but sometimes... and this was one
of those times, the human that lay almost dormant inside Aragorn,
called out for something else. Something wild, unpredictable and
completely mortal. Boromir's relative youth and tempestuous nature,
so carefully guarded behind a mask of responsibility and
worldliness, called out to Aragorn. The only question was how to
draw that spirit out.
For now, Aragorn walked, leading Boromir through the winding
passages of Rivendell back to the rooms that Aragorn had called home
for so many years. "The little ones will prove stronger than they
seem, I suspect." It wasn't much further and Boromir would feel the
need to break away once they reached the door.
In the end, Aragorn chose the straightest path. They came to a
sudden halt. Aragorn gave no warning of the destination until they
arrived at it. "This is my room." Daring greatly, Aragorn reached
out to catch hold of Boromir's upper arm. "I would have you come
inside."
The blond man startled, looking down at the point of contact between
them, not daring to meet Aragorn's eyes. "You have maps in there?"
Aragorn had to stifle a chuckle of amusement, knowing Boromir would
misunderstand his amusement and he wanted no misunderstandings
between them this afternoon. "Yes, but we will not be looking at
them for I keep them in a box in the sitting room... and I would
like you in my bedroom, Boromir." Leaving nothing to interpretation,
Aragorn smoothed a caress up the strong arm under his fingers.
With his head shaking slightly, as if in refusal, Boromir tensed.
The eloquence he showed in the council completely vanished. "I
can't. It would be... unwise." Still, he made no attempt to either
shrug off the touch or withdraw. "We shouldn't. I might under
other... but I do not... do... such things with other men, in the
light of day... without reason."
Testing, Aragorn let his hand drift up Boromir's arm and onto his
shoulder. Fingers brushed Boromir's jaw and into his hair. The
action earned a breathless gasp from Boromir and the blond leaned
into the gentle touch even as his hands clenched into fists. "Do not
do this to me."
"I would never force. I only ask." Aragorn leaned in to whisper the
words, keeping them private. "Come lay down with me. I greatly want
to touch you like this all over your body." It was all too simple to
guess what Boromir's reaction might be like if Aragorn's fingertips
traced skin more sensitive than a cheek and Aragorn intensely wanted
to feel that. "Don't be frightened." The words were a dangerous
choice that could ruin everything, but Aragorn couldn't help but
voice them.
Oh yes, there it was, Aragorn grinned. Skyfire flashing, turning
pale green eyes to almost silver.
Boromir's countenance lit up with barely contained emotion. "I'm not
afraid! I'm no maid, no child!" A hint of a sneer pulled at
Boromir's lips.
"Then come inside Boromir, warrior of Gondor," Aragorn dared,
delighted with the other man's reactions. Still simmering
beautifully, Boromir pushed past, opening the door himself and
striding inside as if it were his own. Aragorn followed quickly,
unsure how long this burst of bravado would last. "That's the
bedroom." A finger flicked, indicating a wide arch.
Boromir only had to turn and take a few steps before he was just
inside the entrance. That was as far as he got. Faced with the
massive, elegantly carved bed, he froze.
Stepping carefully, Aragorn eased past the other.
"There is an oddness to my being here." Boromir looked about the
bedchamber, tension showing in every line of his body. "On the night
before a battle when we might all die I have... taken some comfort
where it was offered... most men do, but I do not lay down with men
at home." His chin lifted. Leaving wasn't an option. He didn't want
to leave. His cheek was still tingling from their passing contact
outside and Boromir greatly desired to feel that same spark of
sensation elsewhere on his body... but a proper bed... with sheets
and pillows. This setting of elfish luxury had nothing in common
with the situations of Boromir's other encounters with men. This was
the sort of place he would take one of the ladies he trysted with.
Aragorn padded across the room, choosing to sit on the bed. That
kept a little distance between himself and Boromir even as his
choice of perches suggested the intimacy Aragorn wished to share
with the blond. "This is not Gondor, Boromir. It will be long months
before you see your home again and comfort will be in short supply
once we leave Rivendell."
"Yes, I suppose that is the truth," Boromir quietly responded. He
felt curiously eager to lay hands on this man, a situation he'd
never encountered before. Normally his encounters with other
warriors involved no more than pushing away only whatever clothing
was needful and tending to business. Caresses, fondling and shows of
affection were something to be lavished on women. Still, he was
strangely anxious to strip Aragorn down to skin and actually feel
him, even as he was hesitant to move in the other man's direction.
Honestly, Boromir wasn't at all sure of how he felt or exactly what
he wanted from Aragorn. His mind was in turmoil, and all Boromir
really knew was that he didn't wish to leave this man's company, not
yet.
The look Aragorn turned on Boromir was frightening in it's
intensity. He seemed to be able to read Boromir's every thought at a
glance. "This un-mans me," the blond man finally admitted, crossing
his arms over his chest to contain a shiver. "I feel exposed and I
do not like it." Grey-green eyes shot toward the door, then back
again. He suddenly wanted to know if Aragorn had locked it behind
them but was uncertain if having it so was a good thing or a bad
thing. Could he open it if he needed to? Did he want to? What if
someone came in and found them doing all the things that were
skittering and flashing across Boromir's mind? A sigh gusted out.
"I won't stop you if you wish to leave, Boromir." The assurance was
softly spoken with no trace of accusation in it.
It would have been easier for Boromir if there was a taunt hidden in
these words too, something he could raise his temper at but there
wasn't, not this time. It was just a simple offer. "I want to be
here." His own voice sounded oddly thin to Boromir's ears. "I would
like to... stay."
"Would you come over and sit beside me?" Aragorn asked, pointedly
setting his palm on the mattress next to him.
Boromir took the few steps necessary to cross the space between them
with movements so stiff he might have been a puppet in a play. He
sat next to Aragorn, settling in the exact spot the other man had
indicated. Boromir turned to steal a glance at Aragorn, to gauge
how his strained obedience to the request had skewed things between
them, only to find that Aragorn was still staring at him. His gaze
caught, Boromir's eyes widened in reaction. Boromir's lips formed
several words, but all were discarded, unvoiced.
Slowly and cautiously, Aragorn's face leaned toward Boromir's. It
startled Boromir to realize they were now kissing. Kissing had no
place in an encounter between grown men, yet here it was, and it
felt wonderful. The contact was at first tentative. They tested one
another. Tongue, lips, teeth were all carefully sensed, touched, and
probed, but the kissing became progressively hungrier until it grew
hotly passionate. They were almost devouring each other and soft,
embarrassingly eager, noises rattled Boromir's throat.
Convention be damned, nothing had felt this good in too long. He
wasn't going to waste it. Boromir settled his hand on Aragorn's leg
and, as the kissing heated up, he moved it up aggressively to
Aragorn's crotch. Boromir cupped Aragorn's clothed balls and
squeezed rhythmically, purposefully punctuating his kisses with
squeezes and thoroughly aware of the feel of the erection pressing
up into his hand. The nervousness that Boromir had felt diminished
as they moved into territory he understood. Kissing Aragorn was as
odd as it was exciting, but hard flesh pressed into his palm and
manly desperation were something Boromir had dealt with before.
Aragorn was the one to finally break off the prolonged kissing and
groping. He paused. It was the briefest of moments, yet it was an
instant that would shake the very foundations of Boromir's soul. It
was the instant when Aragorn gifted with Boromir a look of
unrelenting passion, without any coyness or flirtation to soften the
blow. "I want you. All of you." Aragorn reached for Boromir's
clothing and plucked at the first buckle on his vest. "I need you
undressed, lovely Boromir. Completely bare. I want to see all of
you."
A shudder of reaction delayed things, but gradually Boromir began to
peel away his bracers, leather, mail, and silks. He shucked his
boots and pulled his pants off. His growing erection was raging for
the freedom of exposure. He would have been content to just bare
himself at the waist, but more had been asked of him and despite how
odd it felt, at this moment, Boromir was willing to give it.
Aragorn, who had briskly slipped out of his vest and shirt in what
looked like one economical movement, knelt down to help peel away
Boromir's many layers. Aragorn's assistance, however, was cut short
as Boromir's hardening cock was freed to lift away from his body.
Resting one hand firmly on the curve of Boromir's arse, and grasping
the shaft with his other hand, Aragorn drew Boromir's cock into his
mouth. Boromir froze, his breath catching in his chest and a pained
moan escaped him. Boromir's back cheeks were being squeezed in
Aragorn's strong hand. His erection throbbed on Aragorn's lips as
the head was carefully circled by a warm, moist tongue. For some
reason he couldn't pinpoint right now in his shattered thoughts,
Boromir had assumed he would be the one expected to kneel and
service Aragorn.
Too quickly, Boromir felt like he might loose his load into
Aragorn's demanding mouth, and yet, even as he tried to pull away,
Aragorn took the shaft deeper into his throat. It was almost beyond
imagining that Aragorn would so feverishly swallow him. The man was
Boromir's king. And there it was. Even as Boromir had publicly
denied it mattered, this man was the heir of Isildur. This man
kneeling before him like a camp-follower was destined to be
Boromir's master, and that prospect terrified Boromir in ways he
couldn't begin to voice.
Mayhaps if this strange encounter had shifted another way, Boromir
might be able to shake it off afterward with a laugh and a jest...
or perhaps blocked it out with resentment if he'd been simply
subjugated, but it overwhelmed him. It was wonderful. As it was, his
fingers shook with something like reverence as he reached down to
touch the dark curls of the man making him feel like he was dying
and coming alive at the same time.
Aragorn revelled in the sensation of Boromir's hard flesh in his
mouth. It wasn't something he made a habit out of, but Aragorn had
taken a fair number of erections into in mouth during the course of
his long life. Somehow though, wrapping his mouth around Boromir's
cock seemed like one of the most natural things he'd ever done. The
feel of the tip pulsing against his tongue was intoxicating, and the
sliding of the stiff shaft in and out of his mouth felt fantastic.
Aragorn could both feel and hear it as Boromir approached orgasm.
Boromir's groans grew louder and more guttural as the vein pushing
on Aragorn's tongue throbbed hotter and faster.
Aragorn had half-way intended to play more with Boromir, not
allowing him come so soon, and certainly Boromir didn't expect
satisfaction this quickly. At this point, though, both knew there
was no delaying the inevitable. An almost vicious squeeze on his
behind triggered it. Boromir spilled into Aragorn's mouth with a
gut-wrenching groan of completion. Aragorn kept his lips tightly
wrapped around the base of Boromir's shaft in an effort to contain
Boromir's sticky seed. Even so, milky droplets seeped out of the
corners of his mouth.
Aragorn slowly pulled back, not swallowing, but rather holding the
spill in his mouth. Raising slowly, a sinuous movement, Aragorn
aligned his lips with Boromir's. There was a moment's hesitation
when Aragorn leaned forward to press a kiss on his new lover, then
Boromir's lips parted, a faint whine escaping as they did.
The kiss broke only long enough for Boromir to drag in a breath then
he went wild, clutching at Aragorn. Fingers dug into one bicep while
Boromir's other hand caught at and tangled into dark curls. The
sharp edge of Boromir's teeth almost, but didn't quite cut Aragorn's
lips.
Gradually, the frantic level of Boromir's caresses eased a little.
"You enjoyed that." Aragorn's tone was more than a little smug when
he was finally able to speak again.
"Merciful... oh... the feel of you is astounding," breathed Boromir.
Almost mindlessly he pushed back tight, demanding another sharply
flavoured kiss.
When that flurry of oral exploration finally slowed, Aragorn was
panting as well. After licking his lips, Aragorn finally responded,
"The taste of you is even moreso, lovely Boromir."
The other man winced slightly, unsure of how to take the complement.
Disturbed by the frown that seemed to be attempting to tarnish
Boromir's pleasure in what was happening, Aragorn gave him just a
little space. "I can not believe you stayed upright through that. My
skills must not be as considerable as I believe." Rather than
suggesting it aloud, Aragorn pressed gently, indicating that his
lover should rest back on the bed.
Once Boromir's knees unlocked, he was lost. He collapsed on the bed,
completely spent and amazed by what they had done. He, Boromir,
heir to the Steward of Gondor, had just crawled over Aragorn like a
love-starved girl on midsummer's eve demanding kisses... 'kisses'
from another man. A king, his king, had just swallowed Boromir's
cock. The very idea was foundation shattering. Worst of all, he
had done it, not because there were not women about, but simply
because that was what his body desired... and now he wanted more.
Looking up at Aragorn sent a rush of heat through Boromir. He'd been
wrong. That concept wasn't the strangest thing however. The
strangest thing was the desire growing in his body right now to
return the act with something even more. The emptiness he felt in
his mouth was rapidly being overcome by a hunger somewhere else. He
was no innocent. He'd seen and heard many things and one of those
'things' hit Boromir like a bolt from the heavens. His mouth went
dust dry as his mind suddenly visualized Aragorn, pressing up
against him, sliding that erection that at this moment strained
right before Boromir's face, into Boromir's arse.
Breath catching and pupils dilated to almost swallow the green,
Boromir stared up at Aragorn. Conventions be damned, he wanted
Aragorn's body so badly it actually pained him. The path to Mordor
lay before them and Boromir couldn't help but think they both might
die protecting the ringbearer. He would take what pleasure he wanted
and worry about the consequences later.
Aragorn had at some point doffed his shoes and socks, but he still
wore his leggings. It was unacceptable next to Boromir's nudity.
Boromir wanted to taste this man's skin, every curve and crevice of
it. Sitting up a bit straighter as if to convey his commitment to
what was about to happen, Boromir teasingly inquired, "Why is it
that you are still covered? Will you not join me in undress?"
Glancing down at his leggings as if to see for himself, Aragorn
smiled. "It does seem unfair, doesn't it?"
"Come closer. Stand in front of me," Boromir heard himself say.
His nervousness had eased now the choice had been made and he was
anxious to take in the sight of Aragorn's entire body.
Aragorn's bared chest was well defined. His shoulders were strong if
not terribly prominent and his stomach was smooth and taut.
Aragorn's biceps were visibly defined even when relaxed. Even so,
Aragorn didn't have a bulky build. He was lean, built like the
deep-forest ranger he was.
Boromir, on the other hand, had earned the body of warrior, wielding
a sword since he was old enough to lift it. As Aragorn stepped
closer, Boromir snaked out of the last of his own coverings, a shirt
that had clung to one of his arms. His own solid frame was
completely revealed as he sat on the edge of the bed in all his
naked glory.
At this moment, Boromir felt perfectly content and in tune with his
situation and surroundings. He could feel the cloud-soft rug under
his toes, the slightly rumpled bedspread under his bare skin, the
cooling air of the evening drifted in the window to wrap around his
body, and then there was that o' so warm presence a mere step away.
His body seemed all afire. His downy-fine body hairs stood on end,
his cock stirred once more, and his heart began beating almost
madly. His mind still crackled with sensation rather than sense and
he was unable to concentrate.
Aragorn stood right before Boromir and looked down at his lover with
eyes that were asking for something... yet already seemed to know
what would happen next. Boromir could easily discern the bulging,
shadowy shape that Aragorn's legging attempted to contain and he
could smell Aragorn's arousal. The aroma of constrained manhood was
distinct and well familiar to Boromir from his time in the field
with his men.
Without waiting another moment, Boromir eased down Aragorn's
leggings. Aragorn's hard cock dragged down briefly, then it was
completely revealed, a shaft far larger than Boromir had expected.
Once the tip was free, the cock sprang up to a rakishly high angle.
Aragorn allowed Boromir the time to stare though it was hard to hold
back at the sight of the blond's lips parted in amazement. Even so,
Aragorn's body was demanding some kind of stimulation. Keeping his
tone a cautious whisper, Aragorn gave voice to his need. "Touch me,
Boromir." Perhaps a hint of command tainted his tone, but Aragorn
did manage to restrain himself from catching at the lovely golden
mane so temptingly near his twitching fingers. "Touch it. I know you
want to."
Breathing carefully, as if he might shatter if his chest heaved too
heavily, Boromir took the dark erection in his hands, testing it's
firmness with his fingertips, feeling the powerful throb of blood
just under thin skin. The shaft twitched, as if it objected to being
confined by two hands, as if it had an independent life of its own.
Boromir had held only a few hard cocks before, but all of those
times had been cloaked in either darkness or uncommon haste. This
careful seeing and feeling another man's raging erection, was both
frightening and terribly arousing. Boromir could feel his whole
body shivering with excitement as he fondled Aragorn's thick
erection.
It was such a beautiful mouth, and it hovered so close. Yet more
authority crept into Aragorn's voice. "Taste me, Boromir. Open your
mouth, lovely one."
He responded near mindlessly, allowing the endearment to simply wash
over him. Boromir pressed the hardened flesh against his cheek,
savouring the warm power and the astonishing reality of the shaft in
his hands. Then, bit-by-bit, Boromir slipped the hard rod between
his lips. It was an exquisite feeling. The firm cock pulsed on his
tongue, and the head and front of the shaft more than filled
Boromir's mouth. A small, breathy moan, demanded escape so Boromir
slowly eased Aragorn's hard sex back out of his mouth.
Experimenting, he kept his lips tightly closed about the heated
shaft. Boromir found himself liking the feel of it and if the groan
above his head was any indication, Aragorn did, too. A moment later
Boromir swiftly and surely forced the full length in once more,
restraining the urge to choke by force of will. Aragorn's cock-head
throbbed at the back of Boromir's throat.
Aragorn groaned as his cock pulsed, growing increasingly needy
inside Boromir's hungry mouth. "Sweet Boromir. Stop. Wait," Aragorn
uttered breathlessly. Wary of causing pain, still, Aragorn gave way
to the urge to catch at Boromir's golden hair and he pulled, as
gently as he could, urging him off. "Please, my love... I want
inside you, inside your lovely body." The word had to be used for a
thin veil of confusion still lingered between them. "Your behind,
love. Right into your body. Let me show you how good it can feel."
Aragorn was fairly certain Boromir had never experienced such a
thing before.
Boromir quaked. His feeling of nervousness hadn't wholly vanished it
seemed, and yet he 'was' excited at the prospect even as it
disturbed him. In a sign of assent, Boromir allowed Aragorn's
blood-hot shaft to slip out of his mouth.
A long, deep breath shivered out of Aragorn. He knelt perilously
close, almost looming over the other. "You need to move. I need you
in the middle of the bed... on your knees but bent over. Let your
elbows and forearms hold your weight." The instructions were
carefully spoken, his tone cautious, wary of Boromir panicking.
Slight tremors slowed him, but Boromir moved slowly into the pose
requested of him. The position muffled his sight even as it exposed
him more thoroughly than he could believe possible. Relying on
sound, and the shifting of the bed as Aragorn moved he had a
moment's warning that the other man was behind him prior to a warm
hand coming to rest on his flank.
"That's perfect." Both of Aragorn's palms now smoothed over the
curve of Boromir's lower cheeks in soothing caresses. "You look
beautiful this way."
The proprietal tone of the other's voice made Boromir suspect he
should baulk, shake Aragorn away and retreat to his own rooms until
this madness passed, but he'd never been so thoroughly aroused
before in his life. He was on fire and frozen at the same time. His
erection had returned faster than seemed possible and it was already
aching as if he'd gone unfulfilled for days.
Too soon, and not soon enough, Boromir felt Aragorn's hands
concentrate on what lay between the cheeks of his arse. They were
gently spread apart and a brush of sensation shocked him to the
core.
Aragorn stroked his finger down the exposed crease a few more times,
testing Boromir's reactions to the contact. The moans that the
action earned suggested that it was safe to proceed. Catching his
cock in the same hand that had been teasing, Aragorn set the tip at
Boromir's virgin entrance and pressed just a tiny bit, testing.
When he pulled back and Boromir let out a faint wail of loss,
Aragorn knew for sure his partner was willing. "Soon, very soon,
lover." Fingers dug into skin. Bending, Aragorn huffed out a breath
of air at the sensitive entrance to Boromir's body in warning, and
then flicked out his tongue. If he hadn't been holding Boromir
tightly, the blond surely would have thrown himself off the bed and
onto the floor in reaction. As it was, heaving shudders shook
Boromir's frame at every flick of Aragorn's tongue.
"Ancestors... I can't... Oh..." The words made little sense, being
mere gasps and groans more than anything else. Boromir had fallen to
rest on his shoulders and the side of his face. One hand clawed
uselessly at soft sheets, the other was clenched. "Aragorn!" He
jolted as Aragorn's tongue breached him then withdrew.
Just when Boromir thought he couldn't take any more and would shoot
if one more lick were given, Aragorn's mouth pulled away. "NO!"
Boromir's spine bowed. "Don't stop!" he pleaded desperately.
"Trust me, Boromir. You'll like this even more," Aragorn assured in
a ragged tone as he shifted back up to his knees. They would use oil
next time but for now all that saliva would have to suffice. Boromir
was more than eager and he, himself, was leaking profusely. Aragorn
was certain it was enough. Once more Aragorn pressed his hard cock
up against Boromir's tight but moistened, all-too-inviting hole.
Aragorn's knuckles stroked over curved skin before his hand dropped
to cup his balls and the base of his hard shaft. The wait had been
long enough and his erection was throbbing and weeping. Steadying
himself with his fingers, Aragorn pushed. He felt resistance from
Boromir's body but by steadily increasing the pressure the head of
his shaft he eventually penetrated his lover. Holding there, Aragorn
concentrated on the texture of Boromir's gasps. "You like it." No
small sense of pride tainted the announcement. "It gets better."
Carefully Aragorn pushed just a little further into Boromir's body.
He hadn't known what to expect, but much to his amazement, Boromir
found himself craving more. The feel of Aragorn's shaft stretching
him out and filling him up made his own cock jump with excitement.
The sensations flashed out from the place their bodies connected to
sent sparks all through Boromir. His balls were tightening up and
his body wanted to move.
That movement seemed too long coming, so Boromir pressed himself
back against Aragorn's cock. A grunt and groan from Aragorn spiced
the physical pleasure he felt as his body enveloped more of
Aragorn's.
"You're ready then." Aragorn took Boromir by the hips and started
slowly rocking, rhythmically thrusting himself deeper into the tight
heat, out, and deeper again. The steady stroke repeated over and
over, growing longer at each thrust.
The deep rhythm was making Boromir rock-hard, and he could feel
himself rapidly approaching orgasm again. His cock was jerking with
renewed hunger at every re-entry Aragorn made. Boromir's entire
focus was on the feel of Aragorn thrusting into him, the shaft
sliding smoothly in and out, stretching him. Boromir swore he could
even distinguish the head of Aragorn's dick as it pressed deeply
inside his body.
Aragorn was panting now, picking up the pace. He was practically
draped over Boromir's back, teeth bared to one strong shoulder.
Boromir couldn't resist any longer and he had to seize his own
painful erection while Aragorn enthusiastically continued to stroke
into his lover's body. With his hand wrapped around his own shaft,
it only took a couple of sliding squeezes before Boromir exploded.
His seed splattered over the elegant bedspread and slickened his
hand as he groaned in quiet pleasure.
As Boromir dripped out the last of his come, Aragorn let out a near
roar and made one final, brutal thrust into Boromir's body. Teeth
cut into the skin at Boromir's shoulder but even that couldn't
detract from the feel of Aragorn's cock shuddering deep inside him.
Aragorn's fingers were unrelenting in their grip on Boromir's waist.
Boromir couldn't have escaped the overpowering hold he was trapped
in even if he'd wanted to. Aragorn moaned, a deep, guttural sound.
Boromir was weakened by his second orgasm and by Aragorn's complete
weight on his spine. He collapsed, dropping on top of his pool of
seed. Caught off guard by the loss of Boromir's support, Aragorn
fell as well. Aragorn landed solidly on Boromir.
"Uh," Boromir grunted as the breath was knocked out of him. "Oh.
That was...."
"Incredible," Aragorn finished the sentence for his lover with
obvious satisfaction and some weariness. "Boromir, lover." His
fingers traced an absent-minded pattern on sweat-slick skin.
Boromir lay in the damp spot on the plush, embroidered bedspread.
His mind struggled with the many thoughts that threatened to burst
into life at the realization of what had just happened. Oddly
enough, Boromir realized, he had enjoyed it when Aragorn collapsed
atop him. The feel of a naked man on his back, of Aragorn... against
him and still inside him, was incredible. The sensation of the full
length of Boromir's bare body pressed against the front of Aragorn's
strong form, with their legs intertwined was erotic beyond anything
he'd could recall doing with a woman. Boromir let loose a long,
shuddering sigh. He was lost. Gods, but he was completely lost.
"It's all right," Aragorn soothed, stoking Boromir's shoulder.
After another pause, Aragorn spoke again, "You are a wondrous lover.
I would have you stay here with me until our journey begins,
Boromir. There are so many things I want to do to your beautiful
body." Flesh parted with a small hiss from Aragorn, who then shifted
to keep them in full contact despite having slipped out of his
lover's body.
Boromir kept his back to Aragorn. "I can't." The refusal was weakly
voiced. "Everyone would see... would know."
Aragorn let out a sigh and reached out, turning Boromir and pulling
him in close while ignoring the token resistance his lover put up.
Aragorn ran a hand through Boromir's hair and, when he reached the
back of his head, he pulled Boromir's face to his own and kissed
him. "It doesn't matter what anyone sees or thinks, Boromir. It only
matters if you want to share my blankets or not. I wish you would,
but... do you wish it?"
At that moment, Boromir felt something that he hadn't anticipated.
He felt loved and wanted. Boromir had expected nothing more than
sexual satisfaction out of this odd tryst, but Aragorn was making
him feel quite strange inside. "I do, but..." Another kiss from
Aragorn silenced the objection. It took only moments before Boromir
was answering Aragorn's passion with his own. Gradually exhaustion
slowed them to simply laying with their faces almost touching.
Aragorn, a man... his lord, was laying beside him, his left leg
casually pressed against Boromir's right and his muscular arm
supporting Boromir's shoulders. Boromir revelled in the quiet
moment but it couldn't last. "When we reach Gondor..."
"Don't borrow troubles, lovely one. There will be time enough to
worry on tomorrow when tomorrow arrives," Aragorn whispered. "We've
a long trail ahead of us and long trails are best taken one step at
a time."
Temporarily soothed, Boromir allowed himself to melt into the warmth
of the body next to his.
by Carla Jane
oromir hadn't meant to follow Aragorn out of the council. They'd
begun speaking in one corner of the meeting area, discussing all the
possible routes to Mordor. It just happened that Aragorn started
walking without ceasing his quietly voiced musings on their upcoming
journey. Part of Boromir's temperament baulked at the way he was
being manipulated, certain that Aragorn was doing it on purpose. It
was the sort of trick father would use on potential advisors that
were too timid to take seriously. Father would make them chase him
all over the battlements if they wanted to speak to him, usually
losing them along the way. Still, Aragorn was a Ranger. He walked
constantly. That could just be how he ploughed through his thoughts.
Boromir was forced to admit it might just be happenstance that had
him chasing after the dark-haired man. Either way, he followed,
falling in step with Aragorn.
That's it, Milk and cookies time
