Boromir grinned lazily as he lay pinned under Aragorn's strong body,
one hand deliciously stretched over his head, the other playfully
pushing back against the other man's weight, their fingers entwined,
locked together.
Aragorn gazed down bemusedly at his lover; his grey eyes a wordless
question.
"I didn't ask what, Boromir?"
"You didn't ask whether you had my permission to put your mouth on
me."
Boromir was smiling broadly now at Aragorn's expression of bewildered
puzzlement, which only slowly changed in understanding.
"You mean that time in the reeds when I saved you from a horrible
death by blood poisoning? I thought you were fooling me."
Aragorn tried to kiss the man who lay beneath him then, but Boromir
pushed him back, turning his head sideways so that the kiss missed
its aim and Aragorn felt the coarse grass tickle his lips; nice, but
nowhere near as nice as feeling Boromir's soft lips against his own.
"Ask me, Aragorn. Ask for my permission and I may just give it to
you. Even a king must sometimes ask permission, be subservient to his
people."
He was laughing out loud now as Aragorn tried to kiss him once more
but failed every time, making him curse softly and mutter under his
breath.
"I don't need your permission, man of Gondor. You're mine, and mine
to do with as I please. Subservience, you said? We'll see
about that."
He rolled his entire body on top of Boromir, one leg pushing up in
between Boromir's legs, the other resting on its knee beside his
lover's hips. He pressed down Boromir's hands above his head, flat on
the ground, taking revenge on the offensive grass in the process.
"Permission I should ask, you claim?"
He bent down and kissed Boromir's brow, the soft warm skin feeling so
much better than the winter grass against his lips.
"Subservience I should give to you, you say?"
He kissed the tip of Boromir's nose and his cheeks, licked the strong
jaw line, feeling the soft stubble rasp against his tongue. But
Boromir did not give in so easily and he brought up his legs
smoothly, pushing Aragorn up, as he pulled his hands back from above
his head and brought them before him, between them, shoving Aragorn
away from him. Sitting up in one fluid movement, he pushed a mock-
stunned Aragorn backwards, until his lover lay against the trunk of a
large birch tree. Boromir pulled the other man's hands behind the
trunk, holding them there captive with his strong grip. He straddled
his lover, a ferocious smile playing around his lips, his eyes
shining with passion and glee.
"Let me teach you the meaning of those words, Aragorn, son of
Arathorn, for Elrond's much prized education appears to have been
sorely lacking. Growing up in Rivendell seems to have disgraced you
with too much Elvish arrogance. I will surely have to remedy this
before I take you home with me to Minas Tirith. There are some
lessons that will have to be learned by you, future king of Gondor.
And I will be the one who will teach them to you."
Aragorn looked up at Boromir, mirth lighting up his face.
"So the Steward's son will be my teacher now? And what exactly will
the curriculum entail? For I may not wish to learn all that you have
to teach to me."
"Rest assured that my lessons will be beneficial to us both," Boromir
replied, seemingly unperturbed by Aragorn's challenge. Instead, he
moved into a slightly more comfortable position and a definitely more
uncomfortable one for the man he was straddling.
"So, we start with lesson one, Aragorn," he began. "When you ask for
permission, you say: `May I kiss you,' before you do this," and he
leaned in and captured Aragorn's mouth with his own, feeling his
lover inhale hotly, sharply, underneath him as his lips pressed
firmly against Aragorn's, his tongue slipping into familiar warmth
and wetness until he chose to let Aragorn come up for air again. He
grinned as he saw his lover already slightly out of breath, eyes
starting to glaze over with the passion that was rising within him.
"Lesson two, son of Arathorn: it's very rude to not ask permission
before doing this."
Boromir's lips moved downward, his tongue grazing over the other
man's throat, finding the hollow where the shining gem lay resting,
licking the soft warm indent that cradled it, until Aragorn started
to writhe underneath him, trying, but not very hard, to free himself
from Boromir's grip. Boromir looked up again, his face as stern and
serious as he could muster.
"And now lesson three, Elendil's heir: when in Gondor we speak of
subservience we speak of things like this."
Boromir let go of his lover's hands then, and he let his own hands
slide possessively over Aragorn's breeches, feeling him already hard
and wanting against his hot and burning palms. He unfastened the
other man's breeches quickly and expertly, and he took Aragorn into
his mouth until Aragorn moaned and thrashed against him, begging and
pleading incoherently.
"Please, Boromir, please, I need to... Please, I beg you."
Then Boromir paused for just a short while and he looked up at his
lover lying there flushed and panting and completely at his mercy.
"It would seem that you have mastered the most important lesson of
all, all by yourself, Aragorn," he said. "That sometimes even a king
needs to say `please' before he gets what he wants."
As he spoke these words Boromir laughed gayly and then he finally
rewarded Aragorn for lessons well learned.
The End
Continued in The Long Memory of Trees (Going South, Day Fourteen)
After Images VI: Practice
by Sasjah Miller
Going South, Day Nine
ou didn't ask, Aragorn."
