Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Oxygen	By : ColdDecember Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1582 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Obviously and much to my regret, none of this belongs to me. I had merely invited the characters over and let them run wild for a while – and then wrote it down to the best of my ability. I claim no right to LOTR and make no profit through this story

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Chapter 4.
Yet it was not exactly the mattress they ended up on. The bed, although undoubtedly alluring in its size and softness of sheets, was however a few yards’ distance from them – why did people make these chambers so spacious? – whereas the smoothly furred bear skin lay only a pace away. And in such a state as theirs, every step to take is not only an unbearable delay, but also a veritable challenge, for walking when utterly glued to another man is no easy feat.
Therefore, quite naturally, neither of the brothers had made any attempt to move towards the bed – instead, by unspoken agreement and without loosening the embrace for a second, they sunk down upon the rug.
Leaning back, Boromir pulled his brother on top of himself, thus getting perfect access to Faramir’s body from all angles. And indeed, no sooner than the younger man’s trousers were slid to his thighs, Boromir grabbed him decisively around the cock with one hand, while his other palm lustfully followed the curve of Faramir’s behind and pried into the intimate warmth between his legs, fingers avidly searching for the one soft place in the warrior’s toned svelte body.
Faramir jerked against his brother’s demanding touch, and moaned into their kiss, yet somehow found it in himself to draw away a little.
“Please,” he breathed out heavily, “let us not rush… We have waited… far too many years for this.”
For a long moment Boromir gazed at him disorientedly, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself – and, with a visible effort, slid his hands back to Faramir’s shoulders.
“Yes…” he murmured hoarsely, “yes, of course, you are right.”
Faramir rested his forehead against Boromir’s and grinned feebly: it was almost painful for him to comply with his own request. The heat in his loins could easily rival that in the fireplace. Oh, he could hardly remember getting so hard so fast… And his body, just like Boromir’s, called urgently for all preambles to be omitted and for the deed to be done at once.
But he knew that later, when a measure of sensibility was restored to his molten mind, he would regret it bitterly if they were to race through it now. So he finally disengaged himself from his brother’s embrace: to allow himself to properly take off his trousers, which at the moment were not even down to his knees, and also to allow Boromir to see him – and to allow himself to see Boromir, all of Boromir.
And when they did see each other, not like they had done countless times before, but as though for the first time ever: naked and fully aroused, firelight glimmering on pale skin and obsidian hair, reflecting mesmerisingly in dilated grey eyes, all this strength and beauty being offered so willfully and eagerly – for a second it seemed to them their resolve would crumble.
“Easy there,” Faramir murmured, “easy, brother…” And Boromir nodded, with a crooked grin acknowledging how close he indeed was to throwing himself at Faramir.
Easy, yes… He bid himself imagine how he would have done it, had Faramir come to him like this as a boy of fifteen or sixteen. How he would have done it had his little brother been able to see through his cover of proper brotherly affection, through his mask of utter physical indifference towards Faramir’s shapely young body. How he would have done it had Faramir been bold and daring enough to demand his love, or at least desperate enough to beseech it. He knew how: slowly and carefully – yes, with passion and heat, too – but patiently and consciously, making sure Faramir never forgot a moment of it, making sure he himself never forgot. And now, although Faramir was no boy, and he himself no young man, Boromir realised that, high and urgent as his desire was, he wanted their first night to be just like it would have been some twenty years ago.
Rising from his sitting position to stand on his knees, he pulled Faramir gently to himself; and when Faramir kissed him, he returned the kiss as mildly as he could, wishing to fully appreciate the warm softness of his brother’s lips, to bask in their playful sensuality, to tease them mischievously with a quick swipe of his tongue. Even when Faramir, now on his knees also, leant his body against Boromir’s, making their erections meet and exchange heat, Boromir only moaned into his mouth softly and gave a subtle push with his hips. And as he kissed Faramir’s lips he felt them spread into an amused grin: of course, Faramir had never quite believed Boromir would be capable of patience. Well, Boromir would show him…
And he set his hands to exploring Faramir’s body anew, from the very beginning, slowly and thoroughly, starting with a light caress on the cheek, following unhurriedly to the jaw, to the throat, to the back of the neck… He could not help shivering when Faramir returned the attention in kind, brushing Boromir’s skin with his fingertips only, the touch so light and yet so much more intense than a wholesome caress of the palm.
Thus they held each other, taking time to learn about one another all the things that made each of them himself, and which the other one had not known before. The smoothness of Faramir’s cleanly shaven cheek under Boromir’s mouth, and the tickly prickliness of Boromir’s beard against Faramir’s lips. The silkiness of long dark locks twisted and combed through by nimble attentive fingers. The feeling of the breast muscle’s full powerful curve under the palm. The shiver that runs through the body when a nipple is twirled playfully. The gasp that escapes the lips when a hot rigid manhood is pressed against the taut abdomen… The thick, heady scent of a grown man’s desire…
But when hands were finally about to get below the waist, Boromir breathed out heavily, and the weary sadness of his sigh did not escape his brother’s notice.
“What is it?” Faramir asked gently, putting a finger under Boromir’s chin to make the man look up and meet his keen gaze.
A shadow of bitter irony appeared at the corner of Boromir’s mouth. “I simply cannot bring myself to believe that you are all mine to look at, to touch – to love… You know, I have never allowed myself to even fantasise about this.”
“I see…” Faramir sighed, but then smiled. “Well, I have – many a time,” he murmured demurely, his palm slowly going up and down Boromir’s belly in maddening proximity of the man’s straining erection.
“Oh, is that so?” Boromir smiled indulgently, his present fortune once again quickly clouding out the sourness over the past with all its missed chances.
“Uh-huh,” Faramir’s other hand came down to thoughtfully massage Boromir on hip, playfully including part of the taut buttock into the caress.
“Tell me.” Boromir kissed him briefly on the corner of the mouth and whispered: “Tell me what you had dreamt of.”
“Wouldn’t you rather I just showed you instead?”
“I’d rather you show and tell me.”
“All right,” Faramir nodded leniently. He lowered his gaze to appreciate the masculine beauty of his brother’s unclothed body, and bit his lip thoughtfully. “Where should I start…? I have dreamt of so many things.”
“How about you just pick up from where we are?” Boromir suggested casually, lazily stroking Faramir’s neck and chest with both palms. “I’d be so loath for you to abandon the position you’ve already gained…”
“Yes, indeed,” Faramir laughed softly. “Do you know, I had come up with so many strategies for seducing you – but I doubt they are any longer needed…”
“Oh, they may come in handy yet, when I get so used to your charm, and so bored of sleeping with you, that you would have to seduce me anew.”
Faramir stared at him, and they laughed out, for both knew with absolute certainty that neither could possibly get used to the other’s charm – ever.
“But let’s get to the point,” Boromir whispered, his fingertips trailing down Faramir’s chest not so lazily anymore. “You had dreamt…?”
“Yes,” Faramir smiled, his palm still only a couple of inches from Boromir’s cock. “I dreamt of coming this close to holding you, and then I would tease you by not holding you, by doing anything but taking you in my hand.”
“Oh, but you already are treating me thus – and have been for far too long,” there was a note of playful disapproval in Boromir’s husky voice; and his fingers came to twist Faramir’s nipples a little ungently – just so that Faramir could find out for himself how unbearable this sort of teasing could get.
Faramir hissed quietly and squirmed against his brother’s touch. “Boromir, you are getting me distracted.”
“Deal with it,” Boromir lowered his face to bite the younger man on the neck just above the collarbone, his hands sliding down to feel the subtle curve of Faramir’s waist.
Faramir gasped, then chuckled softly, arching into Boromir’s rough kiss. “Yes, I had imagined you would be naughty and impatient.”
“Impatient? I am being horribly patient with you, brother. You have no idea what I am usually like,” Boromir whispered hotly against his throat, then grazed his tongue over the enchantingly soft skin, feeling for the pounding pulse underneath.
“Oh, in that case, why don’t we put your patience to a test – to see just how horrible it can get?” Faramir countered playfully. He withdrew his hand from Boromir’s stomach to thread his fingers through his brother’s glossy black tresses and massage him on the nape of the neck.
“Very horrible, I assure you.” To prove his word, Boromir swiftly slid his palm between their bodies to give his brother’s manhood a firm but maddeningly brief squeeze. Faramir let out a choked moan and shoved his hips at Boromir, so that their erections bumped, sending sparks through their bodies, and Boromir moaned also.
“Do that again,” Faramir breathed out hoarsely, leaning forth to have his cock taken back into his brother’s firm hold.
“Naaay,” Boromir grinned smugly and licked his brother lightly on the neck, drawing his lower body away from the contact. “I am being patient, remember?”
“Do that – again,” the younger man muttered sternly. And when Boromir ignored the request, suddenly Faramir’s hand, which had been caressing Boromir’s neck so gently, came to seize the older brother on the chin, jerking his face upwards. And Faramir assaulted his mouth with a raw wild kiss, grinding their lips painfully together and shoving his tongue deep into Boromir’s mouth, just as he shoved his hips forth to make their cocks meet once more – and Boromir realised with a measure of surprise that his brother was, in fact, a very strong man. But then Faramir broke it off just as suddenly and exhaled heavily.
Although the Steward’s own breathing was none too even, he lifted his eyebrows in amusement. “My, where did that come from, little one?”
“Oh, there’s more where it came from,” Faramir murmured darkly, holding his brother’s gaze and trailing his tongue over the underside of his lip. “I had warned you, Boromir, I am no longer fifteen.”
“Now, is that a threat…?”
“Could be, depending on what it is you fear,” the younger man returned quickly, “and we shall have time to find about that, won’t we?” But before Boromir could come up with a good retort to this impudent remark, Faramir’s expression changed back to one of playful demureness, and he tilted his head to the side, eyeing Boromir appraisingly. “Not now, though. Since it is patience you want, I shall give you some.”
He moved in as though to kiss Boromir again, but when Boromir leant to him to meet his lips, he gave a soft chuckle and swiftly evaded the touch.
“Don’t forget, brother, I need to keep my mouth free – to tell you of my fantasies.”
“Then don’t go wasting time, and tell me already.” Boromir chided with a stern frown – but when he held Faramir on the hips and pulled him in, his touch was quite gentle, as was the kiss he planted on his younger brother’s jaw. For he wanted to remind them both that passion did not necessarily have to express itself through naughtiness and cheeky cockiness. Fifteen or not, Faramir felt so sweet to hold…
Perceiving the change in his brother’s mood and adjusting to it at once, Faramir laid his hand on Boromir’s shoulder to draw little circles on it with his thumb. Tilting his face up, he nudged the older man on the cheek with his nose. “Mm… Where were we?” he whispered almost languidly. “Ah yes, I dreamt of… you know, of simply caressing you with my palm, of feeling the shape of your body – the way I had felt it with my eyes so many times… Have you really never caught me looking…?” he grinned and softly kissed the corner or Boromir’s mouth. “I dreamt of brushing my fingertips over your nipple, very lightly – like this… Of counting the squares of your abdomen with my index finger. Of feeling the softness of these curls down here…” he paused, as though in thought.
“Do go on, brother…”
“And I dreamt of holding your balls in my hand,” Faramir murmured, showing exactly how he had wanted to hold them, “of feeling their weight, the full firmness through the delicate skin…”
“Tell me more…”
Faramir’s lips spread into a smile none too decent. “And of doing this with my thumb,” he accompanied his words by pressing his finger into the dented line between his brother’s balls and proceeding to rub up and down the cleft, insistently but slowly.
Boromir sucked his teeth delightedly. “And then?”
“And then, you would tell me how good it feels.”
“Oh, yes… very good, very…” His words encouraged Faramir to apply yet more pressure, and Boromir closed his eyes. But then it did not seem good enough anymore, and he looked at Faramir again. “Well,” he raised an eyebrow meaningfully, “have you dreamt of actually taking me in your hand?”
Faramir considered the question, considered the situation. He was glad they had managed to take it slow, after all: for whereas at the beginning they had grabbed each other swiftly and without thinking, their urgency too strong for the reliasation of what was actually happening to sink in – now it was different. Now he found himself staring at the impressive proclamation of his brother’s desire in awe and wonder, and was breathless and almost dizzy – not so much from the passion itself, but rather from the glory of this moment, the moment when a dream comes to life.
“Indeed,” he whispered with a smile, “I have.” And he brought his other hand, the one that had lain on Boromir’s hip, to wrap his fingers confidently around the long-ignored length, doing it in such a certain, habitual manner, as though he had been thus treating this particular cock for the past decade. “And then I would rub you till you grew as hard as it gets.”
“Faramir,” Boromir grinned condescendingly, his hips rocking subtly into Faramir’s touch, “you have dreamt incorrectly: I already am as hard as it gets.”
“Aye, I can see that. It is merely that I had not dared imagine you would be so easy to arouse – or, for that matter, that the arousal would be so long… and thick.”
Boromir crooked his brow accusingly. “Now, that’s just plain flattery, little one. Why would you think something like that? I see you are hung no poorer than myself.”
“Yes, I know,” Faramir admitted brightly. “In fact, our pricks look almost identical, don’t you reckon? But I merely thought nature could not be so generous to both men in the family.”
Boromir gasped in outrage. “Oh, you conceited little…!” He leant in swiftly and, although Faramir laughed and averted his face, managed to momentarily catch his younger brother’s lower lip between his teeth. Faramir bit him back, just as gently, his hand still sliding lazily up and down Boromir’s cock, while the other one fondled with the flesh below.
The kiss grew stronger: no more teeth, but plenty of tongue – and likewise the grip of Boromir’s hands on Faramir’s hips tightened, and the ministrations of Faramir’s hand on his hardness grew much more purposeful. While the downward caress was still relaxed and almost loose – the upward motion was something else entirely: firm and urgent, strong deft fingers squeezing the throbbing flesh mercilessly, pulling as though aiming to stretch and lengthen it, wrist working a maddening twist into the stroke, thumb grazing over the delicate head in a way that simply did not allow Boromir to exhale.
And the Steward knew that if this were to continue, he would not come to know of any other of his brother’s fantasies.
“Faramir,” he panted, sliding his mouth from Faramir’s lips to the side of his neck, “if there is any more to tell, then tell me now, or else I… I…”
“Oh, but if I am to keep on showing, I won’t be able to keep on talking, my dear,” Faramir countered in an irritatingly collected voice, yet his strokes slowed down lest he accidentally go a little too far.
“And why is that?” Boromir murmured intrigued, eyes half-closed.
“Because,” Faramir flicked his tongue lightly over Boromir’s earlobe, “I had dreamt of taking you into my mouth – of taking this into my mouth,” he specified with a frisky tug at Boromir’s manhood, as though there could be any ambiguity.
Boromir took a strained ragged breath as his hips thrust forcefully into his brother’s hand.
“It’s all right,” he assured Faramir hurriedly. “You may… have a… a break – from talking, I… I won’t mind.”
“You’re sure?”
“Oh… Absolutely.”
Faramir looked at him darkly, then nodded and released the hold of his hands on Boromir’s desire, moving them to rest on the man’s hips, and shifted back a little.
Boromir sat back on his heels and, planting his hands behind himself to lean on them for support, spread his knees invitingly. “Go ahead, little brother,” he whispered hoarsely, “make your dream come true.”
He merely shivered when Faramir kissed his throat and collarbones, but when the younger man’s mouth slid down to take in a pert brown nipple, Boromir gasped and arched his back – and gasped yet again when Faramir sucked on the other one.
Continuing on his course, Faramir bowed lower, bringing his face deliciously close to Boromir’s groin. He had come to stand on all fours, resting his forearms on his brother’s thighs, so that only his knees and feet were on the fur-covered floor. Searching for a comfortable position, he firmly gripped the older man on the hips and leant forward, putting more weight on his arms and arching his back slightly. His pose made Boromir smile, visualising just how his brother looked from behind at that moment – a moment so perfect in all senses, so elatingly ringing with tense anticipation.
Yet Faramir was as though not tempted by the sight of Boromir’s manhood straining towards him and obviously yearning for attention. He only brushed his lips across his brother’s navel, tickling it first with his breath, then with the tip of his tongue – then trailed his mouth down the narrow path of dark hairs to the base of the arching cock. Then back up, and down again – slowly… And only when Boromir shuddered and gasped – was that a note of a whimper Faramir heard at the end of the gasp? – did the younger brother seem to finally take pity on him.
Ever so slowly, Faramir lifted his face, bringing his lips so close to Boromir’s throbbing flesh, that the Steward felt his brother’s every exhalation on the tip of his cock. Faramir raised his eyes and gave him a shameless, knowing smile, and the helpless look that came over his older brother’s face made the smile widen. Then, directing all his attention to the wonderful power before him, Faramir trailed his tongue lightly over the taut glistening head – and could not help grinning softly when Boromir hissed and rocked his hips forward, yearning for more contact. Faramir complied, kissing the tip sensually, sliding his lips over the head to take it into the heat of his mouth. But just as Boromir sighed and pushed for deeper penetration, he withdrew and merely breathed a whiff of humid warmth over the moist sensitised flesh.
“Faramir…” Boromir groaned reproachfully.
Biting his lip, Faramir smiled coyly. “Whatever happened to your patience?” he tickled the jerking manhood with the very tip of his tongue.
Boromir sucked his teeth. “Fuck the patience! Take me in!”
Faramir looked up again, the fire’s lurid light making his eyes smoulder with blackness, and only a shadow of his former grin was curving his mouth. But instead of following Boromir’s demand, the younger man slid lower along the rigid length without even touching it with his lips, only caressing it with his smooth cheek. He liked the feeling of the hard heat against his skin, and paused for a moment, purposefully ignoring Boromir’s only increasing restlessness, letting his brother’s cock twitch vainly against his face. Then he moved a little further down and grazed his tongue slowly over Boromir’s balls, making him gasp in startled delight.
“Didn’t expect that?” Faramir murmured smugly.
“Keep going…” Boromir muttered breathlessly, resting his weight on one hand and bringing the other to the back of his brother’s head, for the time being only gently threading his fingers through Faramir’s hair. “Keep going, little one.”
And Faramir did, first generously licking where his fingers had previously kneaded, then carefully pulling one taut globe into his mouth, sucking on it gently, prodding and caressing it with is tongue – and then releasing it to take in the other one. He felt his brother’s fingers clench faintly at his locks in time with each of Boromir’s soft moans.
At last he replaced his mouth with his hand, still resting the forearm on Boromir’s thigh, only twisting the wrist to bring the palm between the man’s legs and cradle the full moistened sack in his fingers. He grazed his tongue up the highly sensitive underside of the cock, and, upon reaching the tip, without pausing for a second took it in and went down again – only now with the shaft in his mouth.
This time Boromir moaned for real – a deep self-indulgent groan of profound pleasure, and Faramir felt the sensation echo through his own body. They were made alike – he knew exactly how it felt to be treated thus.
Boromir had closed his eyes and tilted his head back, but soon looked down again, for when he did not hear Faramir’s voice and did not even see him, it once again became impossible to believe that it was indeed Faramir who was actually doing all this to him. Besides, he really did want to see: to see the young man’s shapely mouth wrapped in a tight ‘O’ around his manhood, to see his face elongated and his cheeks hollowed out from housing the shaft, to see Faramir work it…
And work it he did: with obvious eagerness, yet without haste, taking time to actually enjoy his service. What Faramir loved the most was that the cock which had already been admittedly hard, under his loving care had grown positively steel-like in its stiffness. Like a freshly forged blade, still red-hot – and the moistness of Faramir’s mouth was doing nothing to cool it off.
He did not go very deep though, sliding about halfway down before going back up – for Boromir was indeed a gifted man… At first Faramir had been rather surprised his brother’s hand did not push him further upon the length. But he soon saw that Boromir actually liked it this way, for Faramir’s amplitude left him just enough space to plant a firm grasp around the base of his own erection. And thus they went on in unison, the twists and strokes of the hand perfectly aligned with the caresses of the lips and swipes of the tongue.
No wonder that before long Boromir was able to breathe through clenched teeth only, every inhalation a faltering hiss. And the hand on his cock was moving in desperate hurry, while the one on the back of Faramir’s head finally began to push the younger man for a little more depth, making Faramir repeatedly pound at his brother’s laboring fist with his nose and lips.
Finding this a little too rough for his liking, Faramir resisted Boromir’s palm urging him down and slid back on the length, keeping only the satin-skinned tip in his mouth – and to compensate for the lack of amplitude, he set to suckling insistently on the head, with great care but with pitiless vigour as well.
At once, Boromir grunted hoarsely.
“Faramir…!” he jerked uncontrollably, frantically gulping for breath. “Faramir, wait! I can’t…!” but he could not finish his statement, his plea, for a numbing contraction had seized his jaws, shutting his mouth. Involuntarily, unconsciously, he gripped Faramir mercilessly by the hair with both hands and humped into him forcefully, burying himself to the hilt in the blissful heat.
His whole body arched forward after the thrust, and he threw his head back and let out a cry like Faramir had never heard him utter before: a strained high-pitched exclamation of both rapture and suffering, as though it actually felt too good to endure. And the younger man’s own body was shaken by an ecstatic shudder when, just as he drew back a little, Boromir’s hot semen shot abundantly into his mouth and onto his tongue.
But Faramir’s dramatic exultation was instantly curbed by the stark reality. Not to mention that his throat was sore from the brutal punch, and sudden tears were clouding out his vision – his tongue twitched, his whole mouth going momentarily into a spasm, and he could not help wincing.
Collecting himself with some effort, he inhaled slowly – and rolled his brother’s essence in his mouth, spreading it across the member he still held with his lips – getting used to the intensity of the taste and scent, observing his own reaction to it. At last he let go of the softening shaft, then slowly swallowed all that was in his mouth and licked his lips, breathing out wearily.
Then he looked up and found Boromir watching him keenly, with such lucidity as though he had not been to the heavens a couple of minutes ago. The new lord of Minas Tirith knew he did not taste exactly like honey and cream – and this knowledge had made it all the more unbearable to imagine that Faramir might spit him out. And only when he saw that his concerns were preposterously unfounded, did his body finally relax, and he heaved a sigh of deep satisfaction, his lips spreading into a grin.
“Now, come here, little one,” he murmured leniently, “let me make you happy in return.”
Suddenly Faramir lowered his eyes abashedly, and a somewhat sheepish grin curved his lips, dimpling his cheek. “There’s no need for that,” he murmured.
“Hey, what’s with the modesty? Don’t you want to…?”
“Oh, it’s not that.”
“Wait…” Boromir narrowed his eyes in suspicion, grinning incredulously. “Did you come, too?”
Faramir nodded and looked up. “Aye, I came when you came.”
Boromir shook his head in amusement, the habitual derisive expression appearing momentarily in his eyes, although of course it delighted him to no end that pleasuring him had been such a joy to his brother – and he reached out to quickly draw a tender caress down Faramir’s cheek.
“My, this evening is veritably full of surprises,” Boromir said with a contented sigh, assuming a more comfortable position and stretching out his somewhat stiff legs. “Now then, since we are in no hurry at the moment, why don’t we finally make it to the bed, hm? This rug by the hearth is very sexy and all, but the floor is hard – far too uncomfortable for the other things I’d like to do to you…”
At this he got up and, taking a moment to enjoy the sight of his brother-newly-turned-lover sitting naked by the fire, reached down to help Faramir to his feet as well. And he did not let go of his hand as he led the younger man to the bed.
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