To Capture the Heart of a Warrior

Chapter twenty-four: The Music of the Stars, the Song of the Warrior




Pippin sat in Boromir’s lap so that they faced each other, his legs around Boromir’s waist, his arms around Boromir’s neck. Boromir rocked and swayed slowly and gently, his arms around his Little One. Because of Pippin’s small size, he was a perfect fit in this position for kissing and cuddling while coupling. As they rocked and swayed slowly, Boromir was making his purring sound that Pippin so loved to hear. The purring sound came from deep in Boromir’s chest; it vibrated Pippin’s lips as they kissed. The purring grew steadier and more constant and began to sound melodic as the two lovers seemed to slip into the time between seconds, and they began to grow distant from the world around them.

The melodic purring sound had become a slow and sensual tune now, and for the first time, Pippin discovered that the magic of Fae truly lived in his lover. First Pippin felt a cool, tingling sensation. He opened his eyes and saw a blue-white line of light dance across Boromir’s skin. It looked a little like tiny bolts of lightening. If the sensation hadn’t been one of coolness the tingling might have turned into a burn. It nearly did burn, but in a most pleasing way.

Boromir held him close, rocking and swaying, and now he was singing softly into Pippin’s pointed little ear. Boromir’s voice seemed to creep into his ear and into his mind and heart. Pippin couldn’t quite make out the words, but he seemed to know somehow that the song was about the singing of the stars. In between the notes of the song Pippin could hear it: the music of the stars. The lightening-like light that played across Boromir’s skin spread now to Pippin’s skin and the light now gave off tiny blue sparks. So this was what it had been like for Boromir when Pippin’s fairy magic had mixed with their lovemaking. No wonder Boromir had loved it.

Boromir seemed to shimmer now and his body seemed to change. Only small changes but significant ones. Boromir seemed to be himself, it was true, but also more than himself somehow. All the dear old Boromir was there, but also he seemed to be some ancient being filled with light and raw power. Boromir gently cupped Pippin’s face and kissed him, then whispered into his mouth.

“Change for me, little halfling. Where is my fairy princeling?”

Boromir kissed him again, and it was as though his words had cast a spell on Pippin, for suddenly and without warning Pippin felt himself becoming his fairy self once again, this time more completely than he ever had. He felt his wings suddenly unfurl and fill with wind as they rose into the air. With their mouths and bodies sealed together, they rose higher and higher still until somehow they found themselves high in the night sky.

The night was like a velvet cloak around them and the stars were like jewels flung about them for their pleasure, and they could now plainly hear the music of the stars. Moonlight bathed the plains and contours of their faces and bodies, and as their lovemaking intensified they seemed to glow with a silvery light. Pippin felt he could have stayed there among the stars forever, but this was not to be. Somehow Boromir was in control of the magic now, and he swiftly plummeted them both down and down, until they were once more in their rooms. His kisses grew steadily more passionate and demanding. The gentle rocking and swaying picked up in tempo. Pippin found himself responding now more fiercely and with a great hunger.

Boromir felt hot against him and inside him, and Pippin returned heat with heat until they both were burning with the flames of lust. Boromir’s embraces were now more than firm, they were tight, as though he feared Pippin might suddenly just vanish. His kisses were long and deep and Pippin clung to the big body as though he drew life from it.

Boromir could sense the urgency in Pippin’s lovemaking now. The Little One rode him harder and harder, faster and faster. Now Boromir could see the feral little fox in Pippin once more, the hungry and demanding little wild creature that had stolen his heart and soul. This was why he loved to push Pippin to his limits. He loved to see his Little One like this, a wild, untamable spirit straight from the belly of nature herself, consumed with lust, yet somehow innocent and pure at the same time. Boromir readied himself for the approaching storm he knew was coming, a storm he had called up himself, knowing full well the price to be paid, but oh how worth it the price was. And sure enough, it began with the little fingernails raking his skin, little sharp teeth sinking into the muscles of his chest as Pippin cried out against Boromir’s skin, the little legs around his waist tightening their grip as Pippin rode him harder and faster. Boromir tightened his arms around his little wild one as though trying to contain the heat and fury built up in Pippin’s little body. It seemed the little being in his arms was going to burst into flames so hot it would incinerate them both.

Boromir was drenched with sweat from the effort it took to hold himself back. He could feel Pippin’s need for release and knew it would come only at his bidding. Knowing he could control this wild little creature only in this way filled Boromir with a kind of possessiveness and power. One word alone could set off the storm for this little wild thing, one word alone from Boromir and only Boromir and he could watch Pippin as he became so lost in the fires of passion that only in this way could the halfling find complete and utter freedom. Pippin became yet more demanding, his lovemaking almost violent. Boromir waited, his need for release almost painful, but he would contain himself until the perfect time.

Pippin had begun to rattle off obscenities. It was almost time. When Pippin ceased being able to speak at all and could only growl wordlessly like a little cat, Boromir knew it was time.

“Yes, my sweet, that’s it, that’s it, that’s what I’m waiting for, little catamite, do it for me, come for me, my sweet, come for your Boromir, do it now!”

And Boromir watched as Pippin seemed to just shatter in his arms, his little body pulsing around Boromir’s flesh as a wordless and animal howl ripped through the little body, little nails digging grooves in Boromir’s skin. Boromir grasped the little body, holding Pippin tightly against him. Boromir kissed Pippin and swallowed the second howl. And then he threw his head back, and with a roar that came from the center of Boromir’s soul, he fulfilled himself in the heated, pulsing body of the little wild creature in his arms, his pleasure so intense he nearly blacked out.

To Be Continued