By Carla Jane

jimcarla@hotmail.com

November 2002

Corrected/Beta-ed by Erika in December 2002. Thanks o’ best beloved.

Summary: Boromir has an encounter with his friend, Corwin. Faramir sees more than he should and decides to act on his discovery.

This is just a pwp, don’t expect more and you won’t be disappointed.

Rating: NC17 for male/male sexual contact and incest.

Disclaimers: Tolkien, and other writers/artists/actors created/perfected these toys… even Cory Raines (a “Highlander” immortal) is the property of Rysher, not me.

***

The gates and guards of Minis Tirith were in place to keep out intruders and enemies. Faramir, the second son of the Steward of Gondor, was a well-recognized figure among the soldiers of the city. None of them felt the need to halt the young man as he exited the Tower even though it was past sunset. Word around the city was that the Steward’s elder son had arrived in the area earlier that day. Everyone knew how close the brothers were so it only made sense that they would want to see each other as soon as possible.

For his part, Faramir couldn’t understand why his brother hadn’t come home for the night. It made no sense to him. Why would Boromir prefer an inn at the very edge of Minis Tirith over his comfortable rooms in the Ttower? Father wasn’t the problem. Boromir was the favoured son and he was always welcomed. The message his brother had sent earlier simply said that he had some last bit of unfinished business to attend to with his soldiers and he would present himself in the morning, but Faramir couldn’t wait that long.

So far, this was the longest Boromir had been away from home. As was usual, Faramir had begun missing his brother within the moments of their parting. The pangs had already started while Faramir had still been standing in the courtyard watching his brother ride away. This time Boromir been in the field, at the outer edges of settled land, for over five months. After all Boromir was destined to command the armies of the Kingdom and he couldn't be expected to linger about home forever. Knowing this, Faramir hadn't dared to let anyone know how desperately he wanted his brother to return to Minis Tirith. Everyone in the Tower had already made their opinions on that subject quite clear to him. Many had even followed up with the observation that Faramir would also be leaving the White Tower for a regular posting in the army. It was expected of him, to follow in Boromir's footsteps.

Faramir knew all of that. Both boys been raised with relentless, overpowering awareness of what was required of the sons of Denethor. Their father and their tutors had made sure the boys knew everything that was expected of them and that they acted accordingly in front of everyone, from the children who washed dishes, to the highest nobles in Gondor. Knowing all that didn’t help, however. What mattered to Faramir at this very moment was the constantly increasing ache that had been building inside him from the moment Boromir had departed. Faramir needed to see the most important person in his life and tomorrow wasn’t soon enough.

Finding his brother’s lodging place had taken very little time once Faramir reached the outskirts. Boromir’s whereabouts were common knowledge among the troops, it seemed. Getting past the innkeeper wasn’t a problem either. Between the rich court garb that showed from beneath his cloak, and the fact that Faramir looked somewhat like his brother, no one saw fit to question his right to go up to Boromir’s rooms.

The latch was on the door and no response came to Faramir’s knocking. If it were anyone else’s rooms, Faramir would have given up, but he and Boromir had never held away from one another. Many a night, from the time Faramir was a baby, right up until Boromir’s last visit home, Faramir had wandered into his brother’s room in the middle of the night.

Sliding the decorative dagger from his belt into the crevice between the door and it’s frame, Faramir caught and lifted the latch. He stepped into a small, dark sitting-room. Only the glowing remains of a fire remained in the hearth. By that thin bit of light, Faramir was able to see some discarded pieces of armour and clothing. Boromir’s distinctive shield, bracers, and sword belt confirmed that this was the right room.

Some of the scattered gear was completely unfamiliar to Faramir, however. A cloak of forest green and a thin, light-weight, sword had no place in the rooms of a Gondorian soldier. Faramir frowned at the strange garb, picking up the weapon for a closer look. The sheath was narrow, with a slight curve. Faramir had never seen the like of it. He might have guessed it Elven-work, except for the fact both the handle and the sheath lacked any decoration what-so-ever.

Faramir’s examination of the odd sword was interrupted by a faint noise coming from the inner room of the suite. Setting the strange weapon down, Faramir padded softly over to the half-open door that likely led to the bedroom.

Several candles illuminated the sleeping-room and the hearth-fire was still brightly burning. The warm glow gilded a pair of bodies tangled together on the wide bed. The sight froze Faramir in place.

Never in his life had Faramir seen his beloved brother in such a pose. Boromir, back to the door and nude as the day he was born, was up on his knees atop the bed. Decidedly male hands were curled under and cupping the cheeks of Boromir’s behind as the curve of Boromir’s arse rested on the hips of the man below him. Boromir’s head was thrown back and his spine arched as he rose and then lowered himself once more to the body he was straddling.

The noises drifting over to the door from the couple were enough to make Faramir’s ears burn. Some words were involved but most of the ramblings disintegrated into groans before anything like a proper sentence could form. The unfamiliar voice coming from the man fondling his brother was both pleading and joyous at the same time. The air was filled with murmurs that sounded like praise. Boromir’s more recognizable whispers had an edge of wonder to them.

“Oh Corwin!” Boromir head rolled, then whipped forward, tousling blondish hair that was longer than Faramir had ever seen his brother wearing it. “It feels… so wonderful.” Boromir’s entire frame shuddered and he quickened the pace of his rocking movements. “Corwin, please!”

“Keep going.” The stranger urged, his fingers digging into the lean, pale flesh. “Just a little more, my treasure. Just a little longer. Uh!” The man’s hips were rising off the sheets, attempting to follow Boromir’s movements each time his body lifted. Even in the dim light it became clear to their observer that Boromir’s body was being pierced by the erect shaft of the man underneath him.

One of the hands dragging at Boromir’s arse disappeared. Faramir winced in sympathy as Boromir let out a shriek and his spine snapped into a more severe bow. “YES! That! Touch me there.”

Faramir’s own hand clutched at the hilt of his sword. His beloved brother was in pain, he must be. It had to hurt, having a man’s erection spearing up into such a small opening… and yet… Faramir trembled. Boromir was making sounds that wrenched at Faramir’s innards. They were thrilled, eager sounds. Without feeling the beginnings of the sensation, Faramir was suddenly, painfully hard between the legs. The scene was a distorted echo of half-forgotten, mostly denied dreams that had been pestering Faramir for years now. Faramir had heard noises like that come out of his brother in misty, night-time visions. In those dreams, he had been the one causing Boromir to gasp and groan like that.

“I want it harder, Corwin. Please. Faster. I can’t… oh please. It’s so close.” Boromir’s tone was desperate.

An obscenity that would have caused the speaker to be banished from court hissed out of the man’s lips. Hands grabbed, bodies twisted and tumbled, and before two breaths had rasped out the men on the bed were turned completely upside down and around.

Faramir had to step back further from the doorway. Boromir was now flat on his back, bent almost double, his head hanging over the side of the bed. Boromir’s legs were shoved high into the air, over the shoulders of a man with dishevelled, blackish-brown hair. The connecting point between the two bodies had disappeared from Faramir’s view but the rhythmic way Boromir’s body began to jolt made it clear that Corwin had once again begun thrusting himself into Boromir’s splayed body.

What Faramir could now see, was the look of unbridled passion on his brother’s face. It was an expression his brother wore at the end of a wildly successful, exhausting bout with their swordmaster, but not quite. It had elements of the joy Faramir saw when the brothers first laid eyes on one another after a long separation, but it wasn’t the same. There was a hint of pain in the way Boromir’s eyes were shut tight and his teeth were bared. All in all, the sight scalded Faramir to the very core of his being. Almost unconsciously, Faramir’s sword hand shifted to cup himself through layers of fabric. A squeeze at his own blood-heavy shaft sent thrills of pleasure through Faramir’s body.

“Cor-WIN!” Boromir let out a groan that filled the entire room. His arms were flung out to the side, fingers twisting in the bed-linens. Boromir’s mouth opened and he briefly looked like he’d been gut-stabbed before he began shuddering and clutching at the body above him. Boromir’s lover stiffened in place, shivered and pawed at Boromir’s body before stilling again. He collapsed atop Boromir’s shaking body, letting his lover’s legs slip off.

“Boromir… you’re an absolute treasure.” Corwin’s hands petted restlessly over sweaty skin.

Retreating from the display of after-sex affection, Faramir took a few uncomfortable steps backward. He knew the damp warmth at the front of his leggings was quickly going to become a sticky, cooling mess, but Faramir was torn. He should get out of the room and away from his brother before the two men untangled themselves and discovered that they had company. Faramir didn’t want to leave, however, he didn’t want to retreat from the brother he’d been so desperately missing but he was hardly in a suitable state to remain unless he somehow cleaned himself up. Then there was the problem of how Faramir was ever again going to look at Boromir’s face without seeing that expression of pained bliss in the back of his mind.

At a frightenly dark, soul deep level, Faramir felt the urge to storm into the next room, toss Corwin out the window, throw himself down on top of his brother and somehow make Boromir scream ‘Faramir!’ the way he’d been groaning out the name of his dark-haired lover. Instead of any of those possibilities, Faramir ended up dropping into a chair over in the gloomiest corner of the sitting room, pulling his legs up and wrapping his arms around his knees.

Voices in the next room spoke for some time in cozy intimate tones. The noise rose and fell. Finally bare feet hit the floor. “Well, I’m hungry,” Boromir announced loudly.

“You’re always hungry,” the other teased. “You’re still a growing boy.” The last word or two suggested that they were now at the doorway.

“And you’re as ancient as the dust on the parchments below the tower, I suppose.” Boromir padded into the sitting room, still nude and speaking over his shoulder. “You’ve no more than six years on me, old man.”

“You have no idea how old I am, my treasure.” Corwin leaned in the frame of the portal. “Although being with you does rouse my youthful appetites.” He grinned playfully. “It’s like there is a prickle of heat just under my skin all the time I’m around you, Boromir.” Arms crossed. “Someday you’re going to be as old as I… time and fate willing… and I’m going to enjoy taunting you back again.” The smile faded from Corwin’s face and without a hint of warning about the move, he threw himself across the room, seized his sword, and turned toward Faramir,  who was sitting quietly in the chair.

Boromir was only a moment behind the movement, grabbing up his own weapon, but it dropped just as fast. “Faramir, you foolish… What are you doing lurking in the shadows? We might have killed you.” Real fear marked Boromir’s tone.

When his younger brother just continued to stare up at him without speaking, Boromir set aside his sword and crossed over to kneel by the chair. “What is it, Faramir? Is something wrong at the Tower? Has father… has Denethor done something to you?” A warm hand reached up to thread into Faramir’s reddish-blond hair. “What’s wrong, dear one?”

Corwin appeared and draped a cloak over Boromir. The interloper now had a pair of leggings on. Faramir turned a hate-filled glare on Corwin, not in the least for covering up Boromir’s intoxicating nakedness.

The dark-haired man blinked, startled by what he was seeing in Faramir’s eyes. “Ah… I see.” Corwin retreated from the pair, a smile pulling at his mouth. “I’d best be on the road again, Boromir.” Clothing was sifted through and some pieces were pulled on. “You need to tend to your little brother.”

Boromir looked like he might object but the words didn’t make it past his lips. “Will you be back, Corwin?”

“Eventually, I should think.” He grinned, which caused the slightly elvish cast of his features to become more pronounced. “I’m keeping an eye on you, my treasure. I will find you again when the time is upon you, if not sooner.” Green eyes twinkled. “I’ve things to teach you, young Boromir.”

Corwin was dressed and out the door in just a few blinks of an eye. As soon as he was gone, Boromir grew solemn once more and turned back to his brother. “It’s just you and I, Faramir. Now can you tell me what the problem is?”

“Who was that? Where did he come from?” Leaning forward, Faramir stared into his brother’s eyes.

“He claimed the name, Corwin of early rain,” Boromir answered cautiously, face turning slightly so they weren’t breathing each other’s air. “He’s said he was from the north-east, past Mirkwood. I happened across him near the gap of Rohan.” There was a long pause. Boromir’s chest felt tight. “Faramir?” His tone was concerned. “How long have you been here in my rooms?” The question was voiced in a soft, slightly fearful, whisper. “What did you see?”

A slow blink from Faramir preceded the answer. “Why were you doing ‘that’ with him?” Tipping his face, Faramir’s cheek brushed his brother’s temple.

Boromir startled backward slightly, just enough to break the contact between them, without pulling away. “By the Valar. Is ‘that’ what’s bothering you? Or is there some trouble at home I should know about, dear one?” he countered even more cautiously.

Frowning, Faramir lifted one hand. His fingers traced down Boromir’s cheek to come to a rest on lips that were puffy and bruised from frantic kisses. His thumb brushed back and forth, feeling damp softness. “Do you do ‘that’ with other men, Boromir?”

Faramir’s wrist was caught and held. Boromir let out a shaking breath. “Do not, dear one.” The warning was growled out. “I’ve done everything father has required of me and more. I’ve devoted my body and soul to the protection of Gondor.” Boromir’s eyes shone, locking with Faramir’s so intently that the gaze almost burned. “I have forsaken women to put my strength elsewhere. Not that it was any great loss for they never held my interest… because I have given ALL of the love in my heart to you, my dearest, darling brother.” He swallowed nervously. “I do that without regret, for you are more precious to me than any other person walking middle earth… but I am a man grown with normal needs. I need occasional release or I will go mad. I’ve earned that much.” His grip on Faramir nearly bruised.

“I would have…” Faramir hesitated, unsure of how to phrase the idea raging through his mind and body. “Would you do ‘that’ with me?” The question was only the tiniest puff of sound between them. Faramir pressed the tip of one finger into his brother’s mouth. Startled, Boromir allowed the invasion. Faramir’s lashes fluttered and he gasped. “Boromir… I saw… I want…” The words evaded Faramir. He couldn’t give voice to what he wanted from his brother. Faramir realized that the urge was wrong, perhaps even evil, but the hunger refused to be contained.

The desire wasn’t new, but Faramir now had a clear vision to match the nebulas need he’d been feeling for years. The precise manner the craving could be satisfied had been demonstrated to him. Faramir’s finger slipped free from his brothers grasp, smearing dampness over the corner of Boromir’s mouth and up the line of his jaw. “Boromir, please.”

Boromir’s head shook, but he didn’t draw away. “My dearest one, it wouldn’t be right. We don’t dare.” Still, even as Boromir verbally denied his brother, he leaned into the illicit caress. “Do not tempt me, dear one. Please. I’m not that strong.”

Fingers spread and threaded into golden-blond hair. Faramir bent warily. The kiss he pressed on Boromir started out as a simple meeting of lips. With a rush of triumph Faramir felt Boromir trembling through the cautious contact. He suspected it would only take some small thing to crack Boromir’s control. Testing, Faramir’s tongue flicked out to run across his brother’s soft lower lip while his free hand pushed at the cloak that shrouded Boromir’s body until it fell away. It was enough.

Strong hands caught at Faramir and dragged him down out of the chair and onto the floor where Boromir knelt. Clasps were tore away from rich fabric and Faramir was ruthlessly stripped until he was as bare as Boromir himself. Acting with no more than a few vaguely formed ideas and drowning in the need to feel Boromir’s skin against his own, Faramir soon found himself pressed backward to the smooth wood of the floor.

Boromir’s tongue was swiping across Faramir’s skin, completely destroying Faramir’s ability to reason. Fingers danced over flesh leaving trails of fire in their wake. Faramir had to shove his fist into his mouth to keep from screaming when Boromir slid down his body, nuzzled Faramir’s returned erection and sucked it into blazing, wet heat. Nothing in Faramir’s half-formed fantasies had prepared him for the shattering reality of what it felt like to have the tip of his cock pushing down the back of Boromir’s throat. Mind a-fire, Faramir could do little more than writhe on the cold floor and thrust his hips.

Boromir cupped then squeezed the flesh hanging at his chin with one hand while the other skimmed over muscles that jumped and trembled under the contact. He sucked, swallowing occasionally, until Faramir’s voice was little more than a steady cry of need.

When Faramir’s shaft was released from between Boromir’s lips the younger man couldn’t contain his whine of disappointment. Dragging his open mouth as well as the rest of his body up Faramir’s frame, Boromir’s lips found his brother’s once more. Locking Faramir into a kiss the plumbed the very depths, Boromir wrapped his fingers around Faramir’s shaft and began pumping his hand. Boromir’s body rocked against the one beneath him as he manipulated straining flesh. A thumb coasted over the tip of Faramir’s erection at every few strokes.

With both their bodies striving and pressed tight together, trapping their organs between them, it took only a few moments before both brothers were screaming out their orgasms straight into the other’s mouth.

Boromir broke the kiss. He knelt above on the verge of collapse, gasping for breath and listing to one side. “Oh Faramir… my love, my own.” A shudder wracked him and Boromir’s arm muscles twitched. “We shouldn’t have… you shouldn’t… I have made a huge mistake. I’m sorry. It was unforgivable what I…”

“I won’t listen to that.” Faramir’s hand shot up to cover Boromir’s mouth. “I refuse to hear such words.” His grip shifted and Faramir dragged at his brother, pulling him down to the floor.

Boromir collapsed, unable to deny the pull. His face was averted and he was still panting. A shove from Faramir rolled Boromir over, but it was to discover that Boromir’s green eyes were shut tight and his expression was one of extreme distress.

“Our father has sent you out to risk your life for Gondor. Within the year he will send me out as well. If we are old enough to die for our lands and people then we are not children, we are men,” Faramir reasoned. “We are old enough to make choices. I made a choice here. I refuse to regret it.”

“If father ever discovered what I’ve done, what we’ve done.”

“He won’t. No one ever will if we do not wish them to know.” Faramir sat up shakily. “We grew up amid the intrigues of court and no one plays the game better than us. This secret is ours and no one will ever discover it.” Climbing upright was difficult. Offering a hand to help Boromir do the same was even more of an effort. “Take me to your bed Boromir,” Faramir husked out the request. “You’ve taught me so much already in our lives. Teach me this too. I want to lay with you tonight not as a frightened child in need of comfort but as your lover.”

Boromir shivered. “My dearest love, I never have been able to refuse you anything.”

The admission made Faramir smile. Still, they lingered in the outer-room on unsteady legs. It was Faramir who had to reach out and take the other’s hand and, although he would not lead his younger brother to the bed and all that laying down together entailed… Boromir followed with no more hesitation.

That’s it. Milk and cookies time.

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