In the Deep Part II by Alison ...but as they stopped laughing, Aragorn felt Boromir pull away from him. His arms ceased to grip his companion, and his face turned away. Under his thin robe, the muscles of his arms and legs tensed. Aragorn realised that the other man was about to rise to his feet, probably to vanish into the darkness alone, and therefore he anticipated him. He sprang abruptly to his feet, and started to haul Boromir upright, as if that was his idea all along. 'The dwarf is right, let us leave them in peace to sleep. They will need all their strength tomorrow.' This last produced a growl from Gimli, but none of the other companions spoke, though all listened as the two humans walked softly away together. A short distance from the others, Aragorn stopped and moved his face from side to side, with his eyes shut, smelling the air. Boromir stood very close to him, feeling the warmth of his body, trying to see what the other man was doing, but making out only a dim shape. He was not about to follow him... 'This way' hissed Aragorn, and set off, without stopping to determine what Boromir thought. Face grim, Boromir lengthened his stride and easily caught up. He reached out, without seeing, gripped the other man on the upper arm and abruptly span him around. He spoke into the blackness in front of his eyes. 'Where are you going? We can't leave them unprotected.' 'Your concern is admirable, son of Gondor, but misplaced.' Boromir heard a door opening in front of them, and a grey vertical bar appeared in the almost impenetrable darkness. 'We will not be far from them.' Aragorn grasped his hand confidently, and lead him forward. Boromir blinked. Through the cunning artifice of the masters of the mountain halls, a pool of moonlight fell into the chamber that lay beyond, through a shaft that had been cut into the rock. This dim grey light had been completely hidden from where they lay. It was not bright, but for the first time, he could see his companion. He was aware of the broad hand that held his. 'I found this place before we lay down to sleep,' said Aragorn, with a certain smugness, and Boromir wanted to hit him. Or something. 'Why have you brought me here?' He replied suspiciously. 'I think you know,' whispered Aragorn in his ear, 'fair Boromir.' Boromir pulled his hand free. 'You speak foolishly.' 'I also act foolishly,' said Aragorn, and indeed his words were true. For any man invited death, who would shove the son of the warden of Gondor against a wall by brute force. Who knocked the breath from his lungs and pinned him there, forearms across his chest. In the dim light, Aragorn could see that Boromir's head was tipped back against the rock, and he was regarding him through slit eyes with a mixture of affront and amusement. The man of Gondor licked his lips, the tip of his tongue flickering between them. 'Can you see my face now, heir of Isildur?' said Boromir. 'Tell me now what you read there.' Aragorn lowered his full weight onto his companion's chest, and looked closely into his eyes, pale in the dim light. 'You are wondering whether to risk exerting your strength, for fear it may not be great enough to overcome me.' Boromir thought it prudent not to reply to this comment, and he allowed himself to be kissed again, though he kept his eyes open. He was able to grip Aragorn once more around his narrow hips, and pulled their bodies more tightly together, feeling his hard flesh taut beneath the woollen cloth. Aragorn pulled himself away. He braced one hand on the wall, with his face inches from Boromir's. Without changing his expression, or averting his gaze, he undid the lacing at Boromir's throat, and pulled the loose robe from his companion's shoulders. He ran his palm down the other man's chest, letting the cloth fall aside. Boromir neither helped nor hindered him, but met his gaze calmly. Then he bent his head to scrutinise the progress of Aragorn's tongue across his chest. Aragorn biting his nipple. And down his stomach. Everything happened very slowly. Aragorn licking his stomach. Pulling his breech-cloth aside. Then he let out his breath as Aragorn's mouth closed on him. He spoke a harsh word in the debased tongue of the streets of Minas Tirith. He bent over Aragorn, holding his matted hair, moving his hips very slightly, lips drawn back in what looked like a grimace of pain, but was not. He felt the cold eternal night around his body, and the hot wet mouth of the prince enfolding him. Aragorn was businesslike. His fingers caressed the hard buttress behind Boromir's cock, and he was rewarded with even less coherent noises. Without warning, he sank his thumb into him. The word 'No' escaped Boromir's lips, and his movements became less inhibited. Aragorn pulled his mouth away and slid Boromir wetly between his fingers, looking up into his contorted face. As he had predicted, he watched the face of his companion as he came, desperately, into his palm. Nearly weeping. In contrast, Aragorn was calm. His dirty hair tangled in front of his face, but his wide-set eyes were cold. He supported Boromir as he sank down to his knees beside him, feeling the mighty warrior's heart beating. And brought him gently down from his knees to lie on the chamber floor, looking up into the moonlight, his clothes all pulled aside, and his palms facing upwards, empty, in surrender. 'and to come...' alison@alisonpage.demon.co.uk