To Capture the Heart of a Warrior

Chapter twenty-three: Loose Strings and Other Things





Boromir had been back fully two days now and Pippin hadn’t had a moment with him alone yet. He hadn’t counted on all this. There just seemed to be a never-ending list of loose strings that had to be tied up. Pippin was beginning to understand that this relationship went far beyond anything he had thought. Boromir had hinted at what it meant to be his consort, but in Pippin’s wildest imaginings, he had not considered all the obligations, all the doings of statesmanship.

He had discovered that as the consort of the Captain-General he had to take care in presenting himself well. He must be well spoken, well mannered, disciplined and neat. Wherever they went there were crowds of people watching. Pippin was able to wear his uniform again, and he wore it wherever he was to be seen with Boromir. He did it out of both respect and love, but once Boromir had seen him in the uniform, Pippin saw that Boromir fairly burst with pride in him and complimented him on his appearance profusely and generously. If it pleased Boromir so much for Pippin to wear the uniform, then wear it he would.

He was wearing it now at yet another banquet, and for once in his life he was picking at his food and not really eating it. He was weary, weary of all the goings-on, and weary of all the looks, all the cheers and most of all weary of waiting. He took another drink of wine and rested his cheek on his arm, elbow on table. So many were here! Emissaries from surrounding countries, near and far, filled the great hall. It looked like there would be yet another night when he and Boromir would go to their room and simply drop on the bed and fall asleep, exhausted. Pippin yawned. He nodded. He began to snooze a little.

As for Boromir, he was as weary of all of it as Pippin was. He looked at his Little One dozing at the table. He sighed. Aragorn watched the two from nearby. Seeing them looking rather forlorn, he leaned in toward Boromir and whispered to him that he would get the attention of the crowd, and when he did, Boromir should take Pippin and slip away. Aragorn would cover for them and make their excuses as being related to sheer exhaustion, which was not, strictly speaking, false.

Boromir waited until Aragorn had made his way to the opposite side of the hall, where he raised his goblet in a toast to the future of Gondor and to their victories. The crowd responded loudly, all eyes on the future king, then Boromir scooped Pippin up and made his way out of the hall through a secret door behind a heavy, floor-length tapestry. He ran with his laughing prize all the way up three flights of stairs and down a dark hallway that led to an antechamber just outside his rooms. He peeked out of the door, saw only a solitary guard and slipped out of the door and through the door of his chambers, breathlessly carrying Pippin inside, where they collapsed in a heap on his bed. They were both laughing like children.

Still breathing hard, he looked down at Pippin, lying on his back in the black and silver uniform that Faramir had worn as a child.

“Isildur’s Teeth, but you’re beautiful.” he said, then bent and took a kiss. “My Little One,” he said, tracing a finger along the curve of Pippin’s cheek. “You seem changed somehow, yet not so much that you aren’t still my Pippin, my sweet one.”

“Well, I am a little taller, now.”

“So you are.” Boromir said, “Yet, it seems more than that. You’ve been through so much. I wonder, now you have made such a splendid little hero, will you be happy with your acushla still?”

Pippin answered his question with a kiss. Boromir began to undress his halfling. It was an odd sensation for Boromir to undress Pippin, taking off the self-same uniform that he had once taken off his baby brother at bedtime. Not that the experience was anything like this, certainly. First the little gloves came off, and Boromir kissed each knuckle of both hands. Then came the jerkin and the belt.

“I missed you so much, Boromir.” Pippin murmured, and something in his voice made Boromir stop. “When I first came here, it seemed I saw you everywhere. Once, I could have sworn it was you I saw on the battlements, standing in the sun and laughing. But then he turned, and I saw it wasn’t you. I think it was one of your cousins. But I stood there the longest time, so I could hear him laugh again.”

Tears stood in those remarkable green eyes. Boromir looked into them for some time, marveling at how he could lose himself in their depths. “I missed you, too.” Boromir said, his face suddenly sober. “All that time my spirit dwelt in Fae, I could think of nothing but you. The folk there are so like you. The same eyes, the same clever hands. Look at you; so the halfling, and yet not. Slenderer you are than most halflings, like the Fae, your limbs a little longer like theirs, too, yet smaller than most halflings. Or at least you were. Yes, you have grown a bit on the outside, yet I sense the most growth has been in your heart. I hope it has not outgrown your acushla.”

“Twice now you have said that. Acushla, my heart may have grown, but if it has then it can only love you all the more. It grew because I lost you, but then without you it withered. And now I have you back, and my heart is all the greater and more full of love for you than ever before. Oh, thou art beautiful, oh my love. You are more beautiful now than ever. I think the magic that lives in you still has made me love you even more.” Pippin smiled at him and rested his hand against Boromir’s cheek. “You have enchanted me, my prince.”

Boromir laughed. “I am no prince, little halfling, nor shall I ever be.”

“No, you have given that right to your brother. And doing so, you have truly become a prince, my own personal prince.”

“Then let no Man wear a crown more proudly than I.” Boromir whispered, his voice suddenly deeper, more husky. It was a tone Pippin recognized instantly. Now his other hand went to Boromir’s other cheek, and he pulled Boromir’s face close and kissed him tenderly and long. Boromir wrapped Pippin in his arms and rolled over on his back. Pippin had missed his princely bed. He laid his head on Boromir’s shoulder and twirled his fingers in Boromir’s locks. Boromir cupped Pippin’s face in his hand and pulled him close and kissed him, letting his tongue at last flick softly across the little bow mouth, then slip softly inside Pippin's mouth. Pippin softly sucked on the big tongue, and instantly Boromir was filled with a passion that would outshine anything they'd had so far.

He finished undressing his halfling, then undressed himself and lay back down, now on his side, and pulled Pippin into his arms. Pippin’s mouth tasted sweeter than candy to Boromir. He let his lips trail from Pippin’s mouth to the smooth curve of cheek, then to Pippin’s sensitive little ear. He sucked and kissed and tongued the little ear until Pippin began to moan and mewl and writhe. Pippin squirmed out of his arms and slithered down his body until he was between Boromir’s legs.

“Oh, look at what I’ve found,” Pippin said, grasping Boromir’s staff in both hands. He moved his hands up and down a few times, then wrapped his mouth around the crown and began to suck it. He looked up along the length of Boromir’s body, knowing Boromir was watching him. His small mouth was stretched around the fullness of his man and he moaned around its thick girth. He let his tongue flick and flutter like a little fish on the underside of Boromir’s shaft.

“Oh, slow down, poppet! If you aren’t careful…”

Pippin stopped. He grinned up the length of Boromir’s body. “Don’t worry, if I make you come now, like this, then you’ll last longer later. Besides, after I’m done, I want you to do this to me.” With that said, Pippin once more set to, even more greedily this time. Boromir let him have his way, but held back as long as he could. Pippin sensed this, and the more Boromir resisted, the more impossible the lusty little creature made it to resist. Pippin could sense how close Boromir was, and he gave no quarter and showed no mercy, lapping the length of Boromir’s shaft, licking the dew from the tip, sucking on the head, clamping his mouth tight as he could and sucking as hard as he could manage. He used all his skills with lips and tongue and hands as Boromir held his head in his big hands and stroked his curls. Pippin’s grunts and groans of pleasure spurred him on, as did the look on Pippin’s face, one of genuine pleasure, and that in no small amount. How Pippin loved doing this! Boromir’s breathing was rapid and ragged, and at just the right moment Pippin did what he knew would push Boromir over the edge, digging his tongue into the underside of Boromir’s flesh as he sucked hard and deep and fast. Boromir arched up off the mattress as he flooded Pippin’s mouth and throat with his seed. Boromir could only lay helpless and weak as Pippin lapped up every spilled drop, swallowing it greedily, then went right back to sucking on Boromir’s shaft again, not giving him a chance to grow soft. As soon as he had Boromir rigid and ready yet again, he slithered back up Boromir’s body and straddled the broad chest.

Boromir cupped Pippin’s behind in his hands, pulling Pippin almost forcefully to his waiting mouth, and swallowed Pippin whole. Pippin immediately began thrusting into Boromir’s mouth, driving his own smaller shaft all the way into the Man’s roomy mouth almost savagely. Pippin knew exactly what he was doing. He knew that once he was done with this dominant and rough ride, Boromir would get back his own and get it back with a will. Pippin further insured this by grabbing Boromir’s hair in his fists and thrusting harder and faster. Boromir slid two fingers inside Pippin. The halfling’s head lolled back on his shoulders as he spilled into the waiting mouth and he cried aloud like a little cat.

Boromir grabbed Pippin around the waist and toppled him onto his back, then kissed him deeply, feeding Pippin his own seed. The little pot of ointment sat nearby, and Boromir had Pippin apply it to the Man’s turgid flesh. Then Boromir spread Pippin’s legs and lowered himself carefully.

“I’ve waited for this so long,” he said, and with that he let himself slide in. Pippin groaned with discomfort, but Boromir knew by now the halfling relished this short episode of pain, for he knew the great pleasures that would follow it. Little heels dug into Boromir’s back and he slowly eased himself the rest of the way in. When he was around two-thirds in he felt Pippin go completely limp, a sure signal that the pain had ended and the pleasure began, and the remaining one third he thrust in hard and fast.

He set a slow, deep rhythm, gradually building up the pleasure for them both. Pippin tightened his legs around Boromir and met each thrust with one of his own. Boromir loved to watch his face as he pushed the halfling closer and closer to his peak. The closer Pippin got, the faster Boromir moved.

“Do it, Little One, come for me. I want to watch you come.” Boromir growled.

“Oh, Boromir, oh, this feels so good, how I needed this, acushla. No one could ever do it like you, no one.”

“Nor could anyone do it for me like this, my poppet, my sweet, my little catamite… come for your Boromir, little hobbit, let me watch you come.” Boromir went deep, then shortened his strokes and thrust rapid-fire into Pippin. Pippin’s eyes shut tight, his mouth opened and just as a scream of pure pleasure was about to burst from his mouth, Boromir kissed him, swallowing the cry of Passion, relishing the clutching, pulsating hot flesh around him.

No sooner was Pippin done than Boromir rolled off of him. Pippin knew Boromir had not finished, and wondered what was going on. He didn’t have long to wait. Boromir took Pippin’s belt, captured his wrists and bound them. Then he took two more belts and bound Pippin’s legs so they were spread well apart. Boromir then went right for Pippin’s crotch, licking and sucking the spilled seed from Pippin’s shaft, belly and thighs, then sucked on Pippin’s member until he writhed and begged for release. Only then did he mount Pippin again.

His rhythm wasn’t slow to begin with this time. He mounted Pippin deeply, hard and fast. Pippin had been so close to release when Boromir was sucking him that when he was penetrated, it took no more than ten or so thrusts to push him over the edge yet again, and still Boromir had not completed the act for himself.

It was going to be one of those nights, when Boromir’s need to bring Pippin to orgasm over and over was unrelenting and unforgiving. The third round was slower and very deliberately torturous. Pippin could tell Boromir had to maintain his control by force of will. This delighted him for he knew that when Boromir finally did have his climax it would be a powerful one.

Boromir looked down on Pippin, bound helplessly to the bed. “I like this, Pippin. Yes, I find I like it very much. You liked tying me up, and now I know why. Look at you, my helpless little lamb. Do you know what I’m going to do to you? I’m going to make you come again and again, until there is nothing left in you. I’m going to make you whimper and beg for more until you beg me to stop from exhaustion.”

Pippin felt the familiar thrill coil inside him. Yes, he found he quite like this being tied up business. Boromir worked his body so well Pippin was soon doing exactly what Boromir wanted of him.

“Oh, Boromir, please, please, oh it’s driving me mad, please…” he whimpered, on the very edge of release. Boromir stopped. Pippin squirmed beneath him. “Please, please don’t stop, love, I can’t bear it!” Pippin strained against his bonds, relishing his helplessness, unable to stop begging. Boromir still didn’t move. Pippin writhed beneath him. He wanted release so badly it nearly hurt. Again, he strained against his bonds and found he loved this inescapable bondage. He relished the thoroughness with which he’d been tied down.

“You know what I want to hear.” Boromir growled, grinding his hips in small, slow circles.

“Oh, Boromir, oh please, let me come, please, please…”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Oh, aye, I do, I want to come so badly…”

“And what are you waiting for?”

“For you to tell me to, for your command, my Lord and Master…”

“Then prove it to me. Don’t come until I say so.” And with that, Boromir thrust into him, deep, hard and fast, and oh but it was everything Pippin could do to obey. He bit his lip hard, whimpering and quivering. Boromir thrusted harder and faster still. Pippin strained against his bonds.

Boromir was nearly ready to burst before he finally got what he wanted. Near weeping, Pippin began to cry out piteously. “Oh, please, please, I beg you, please let me come, please!”

Boromir surveyed his work, seeing Pippin was drenched in sweat and trembling uncontrollably. He drove himself the entire way in and held perfectly still. Now he would see how complete his mastery of the situation was.

“You’re going to come for me now. I’m not going to move, not one little bit. If you don’t come for me when I say so, I’m going to have to keep doing this until you do.”

“But, but Boromir! Aren’t you going to…”

“No. No, I’m not moving, not even a little, not until you come for me. Now do it! Come for me, my little catamite. Give it to me!”

And Pippin’s pleasure ripped through him like a saw, wrenched from his body and mind in a pleasure so intense that great blotches of color obliterated his vision. His body arched, obscenities poured from his mouth in a loud cacophony of bliss. The intensity was unbelievable, and then Boromir thrusted into him hard and fast and Pippin felt a flood filling him, hot and liquid and so copious he wondered if he would be able to hold it all. The second he felt Boromir throb inside him his own orgasm went deeper and sharper still until his cries were wordless, animal screams. Boromir roared like a bull, filling him full until his juices ran out and pooled beneath Pippin’s behind.

He was still gasping for breath when he felt Boromir roll off of him and take him once more in that deep and roomy mouth. “No, no, please, not yet, acushla, please!”

Boromir lifted his face and looked Pippin in the eye.

“Oh, but poppet! We’re not nearly done just yet!”

Pippin strained once more against his bonds as Boromir once more lowered his head and Pippin felt himself being swallowed. Weak as he was, he felt himself responding almost against his will. He smiled.

“As you wish, my love.” Pippin said, relaxing now. Boromir sucked him slowly and easily, taking his time until he had Pippin once more where he wanted him. Then he untied Pippin. Sitting up on the bed, he pulled Pippin into his lap and let the halfling guide his member once more inside. Then Boromir wrapped Pippin in his arms and he began the slow, gentle rocking that signaled a long and leisurely lovemaking.

“We aren’t nearly done yet, poppet, not nearly…” Boromir said, cupping Pippin’s face in one hand and kissing him deeply. “Just you wait, sweet one, just you wait and see what’s next…”


To Be Continued