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Speaks to the Trees	By : kspence Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Slash - Male/Male Views: 4967 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings book series and movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
9. Down in a springtime glade
Faramir eyed his companion, who had been gazing away into the trees for the past few moments, a morose expression on his face. The Uruk seemed on the verge of falling into one of the sloughs of depression that occasionally overtook him; characteristically black moods that were easy enough to recognize – but even easier, in the Prince’s experience, to divert.
“Shagrat,” he suggested, “why don’t you lie down for a minute.” The Orc, as if suddenly recollecting his whereabouts, gave a brusque shake of the head.
“Lie back a minute, Shagrat,” Faramir insisted.   He guided his companion down until he was on his back in the fresh spring grass.
There was a certain point that Faramir had recently discovered, below the angle of the Uruk’s jaw and slightly above the collarbone, that if manipulated in just the proper manner could bring about - most encouraging results. The neck of Shagrat’s undershirt was open and in the absence of his usual chain-mail, access, this time, was easy. Faramir brushed his lips across the sensitive spot, breathing out gently to let the Uruk feel the tendrils of warm, moist breath against his skin; and right away most of Shagrat’s upper body twisted up and round to meet him, suddenly lithe and limber as a cat’s. Faramir smiled to himself. Of course finesse wasn’t strictly required when dealing with Shagrat, for the Orc was far more accustomed – expected, in fact - to be handled any old how: but he still enjoyed making some kind of effort.
After a while he shifted his attention a little lower, kissed and breathed a trail over the Uruk’s left shoulder, where some grievous injury, clearly suffered many years ago had left its mark as a great expanse of flat, pale scars.
Blinking rapidly the Orc drew back at once, barking - “Faramir! What d’you think you’re playing at?” Hastily he pulled his shirt back into place and clutched it closed tight around his neck, muttering by way of explanation - “it’s – weird, to have you touching all that mess, there. I don’t feel much in that shoulder any more, if you must know.”
Shagrat jumped in his place as Faramir lowered his lips to the Orc’s craggy brow instead; almost squirmed away in panic as he began kissing the empty eye-socket then kissed a path – by way of the bridge of Shagrat’s twice-broken nose – down the trail of thin, white claw-marks that scored his face and neck -
“Goldilocks!” he yelped, “you’re not supposed to do that!“
“And what exactly,” Faramir murmured, nuzzling again at the Orc’s collarbone, “would you say I’m supposed to not be doing?”
He spent a moment extracting Shagrat’s right hand, which had been clenched into a white-knuckled fist and tucked firmly beneath the Orc’s back. After some gentle, insistent efforts Faramir was able to stretch the remaining fingers straight, and he kissed the badly-healed spaces where the missing ones had been hacked away.   Sighing, he held the Uruk’s maimed hand to his cheek, closed his eyes and leaned his face against it.
The Orc caught his breath. “You shouldn’t be bothering about all the duff bits.”
As he was doing all this, Faramir had been deftly stroking his companion through the fabric of his breeches. All in all this meant he’d been hard for while - quite as hard as it was possible for him to get - by the time Faramir finally worked the shaft of his cock out into the open, and bent his head down to meet it.
Shagrat gave out a slight whimper as Faramir rolled his tongue over the exposed flesh, muttering faintly - “and you know, I’ve often thought that’s probably about the duffest part of the lot -”
And this might well have been true: the Orc’s male organ bore obvious evidence of having been used cruelly in the past, for as Shagrat had once put it -
“the crowd that had their claws in me a long time used to think it was a great laugh, knocking seven bells out of my bits.”
As a result the Uruk’s member was battered-looking in the main, and what stood for his foreskin was not much more than a notch-sided remnant, torn and bedraggled as the fraying wings on the little brown butterflies that would be found fluttering in these water-meadows come the end of the summer. This area of the Orc’s body, at times, was abnormally sensitive to being touched, and Faramir suspected that the kind of stimulation he was used to receiving often caused him a certain amount of discomfort, if not pain outright. He generally did, however, seem to feel pleasure when Faramir put his mouth on him and he did it now, kissing and licking all over his genitals, massaging his balls with his hands and at the same time stroking the soft skin behind.
The personal odour of Shagrat, a potent combination of dirt and leather, sweat and blood, was something that had always loomed large – almost as an unwelcome third person in his and Faramir’s relationship. But for once the Orc smelled – and tasted, of next to nothing at all; he carried only the faint clean scent of river water, mixed with a tang of silt and aquatic sediments.   To his extreme surprise Faramir found that he felt this absence keenly, almost with a sense of personal loss. Striving to recapture some of that familiar sense of him, he took as much of the Orc’s member as he was able into his mouth and tried and tried again – failing each time, until his eyes watered with the effort, to do as Shagrat so often did and to swallow him down into his throat. The taste of a slight spread of salty fluid at the back of his tongue soon set Faramir back to kissing and licking frantically; he was acutely aroused himself, and the heat and sensation of the Orc’s cock in his mouth as he manipulated him only provided a limited feeling of relief.
Shagrat’s erections, these days, were never especially proud or rampant, his immediate inclination always seeming to lean towards concealment: to try and hide himself safely out of harm’s way. His orgasms were just the same and were invariably painfully understated, low-key affairs. It never took much to satisfy him either; by Faramir’s reckoning, he’d barely had the chance to get started by the time Shagrat was hauling him up into his arms away from any possibility of close contact with the products of his imminent ejaculation (for the Orc had some peculiar and deep-seated hang-ups about his own bodily fluids too). So he finished him with his hands, cupping them round him loosely so that Shagrat would be in control of the speed and pressure – and as an afterthought backed that up with his upper thigh, pressing that behind them, in order to give the Uruk an additional something to rub against.   And that was all it took: a moment later and the Uruk was clasping Faramir in a rigid embrace and pressing his body up towards him convulsively, his head jamming against Faramir’s shoulder as he choked back a short cry of pleasure in his throat. The Prince felt heat and wetness flood his fingers, and a faint spasm tugged at his own groin answering Shagrat’s response, but he resolutely ignored it. He eased the Uruk back onto the ground again, to give him ample time to relax.
Faramir looked down at him, lying there in the soft green grass, with his head thrown back among the cuckoo-flowers and buttercups, every part of him looking so completely out of place that the very air around him was practically shimmering in reaction against it; and he thought of the Orc as he had been when they met for the first time in Mordor, recalling a mental picture of a desperately uncertain Shagrat, grovelling in front of him on all fours, painfully aroused but in his misery absolutely unable to do a thing to resolve it. It was quite the study in contrasts, and while their journey had certainly been a long one, in terms of the years that had passed between that point and this, in real terms Faramir didn’t think it had taken much at all to uncover him, revealing the still-uncertain yet oddly - sometimes even - promising person that the Orc was turning out, against all expectations to be, underneath.
“Shagrat,” Faramir told him gently, “I think I do see what you’re really like.”
But his companion showed no sign of having heard what the Prince had said, and when he did reply only seemed embarrassed.
“You shouldn’t’ve,” Shagrat was muttering. “Just now. I mean, you can’t have gotten much out of it.”
Faramir arched his eyebrows. “Well then, you often used to do something similar for me. What was that like?”
The Uruk propped himself up on his elbows and squinted at him. “Seeing to you got me so hard I couldn’t think straight,” he replied earnestly.   “Once you were done I’d have to go and finish myself off and I’d barely last a minute – less than that. Most of the time it was over as soon as my hand went down to touch it.”
“I’ll never understand why you felt it necessary to hide away from me as you did.”
“Come off it, Goldilocks. I know what you thought about me back then. And seeing some dirty old Orc with his cock standing straight up like a tent-post – take it from me, you’d have done your nut.”
“On the contrary,” Faramir replied, “if the ‘dirty old Orc’ I was seeing were to have been you, I’m quite certain I’d have –“ but his native honesty made him stop there and he concluded - “at the very least I’d have had mixed feelings about it, you can be sure.”
Seeming to be in agreement, the Uruk said - “I didn’t use to rate that stuff too highly either. Before you came to Mordor, I barely ever even bothered wanking myself off much – never thought it was all that great to be honest. Didn’t see the point. I could take it or leave it, before.”
In spite of himself, Faramir had to ask. “And what about – afterwards?”
Shagrat frowned and looked down at his hands. “For a long time, the state I was in, well - I couldn’t. And then even after my – you know, my ‘waterworks’ and everything got fixed, I didn’t want to, because of the trouble that kind of carry-on had brought me before. ”
This was something the Orc had an occasional habit of doing: sometimes he would throw – apparently quite unwittingly, into previously casual conversation – snippets of horribly intimate information. Reasonably certain as Faramir was that he didn’t do this on purpose, when it happened it was still disconcerting, as the details he’d divulge often revealed far more than the average person could ever want to know about his – generally, dreadful - past experiences.
Within an extremely restricted set of specifications however, Shagrat was actually a rather perceptive fellow and immediately registered his companion’s dismay. “Don’t get me wrong Faramir,” he explained hastily. “Everything ‘downstairs’ was working fine again, there’s no need to worry on that score. And it never stopped me taking – or even giving out the odd rodgering myself afterwards either. I was only on about that other stuff, because as far as that goes I was back to square one again, wasn’t I?”
“By ‘other stuff’ do you mean -
“I don’t mean anything,” Shagrat interrupted, shaking his head irritably. “Come on, Goldilocks. Let’s not talk any more about this.”
Apparently the Orc thought this was his cue to provide them with some variety of distraction as following another awkward silence, he suddenly suggested:
“You could maybe try putting it in me for a bit.   If you want.”
Faramir looked round at him in surprise. Up until this point, Shagrat’s feelings towards any kind of –well, to put things euphemistically - back-door activity, arising as they did from a complete and long-standing personal aversion to it - had never been in the slightest shred of doubt.
“I mean your cock,” the Orc elaborated, quite seriously. “You could put it in - down there. Up my jacksie. You know.”
“I do understand what you’re talking about, Shagrat,” Faramir said, still nonplussed. “But are you sure?”
The Uruk nodded briefly, slipping out of his breeches with surprising dexterity. “Only if you want.”
The conundrum facing Faramir was a ticklish problem, indeed. Loath as he was to discourage any spontaneous expressions of sexual adventurousness in his companion, he was well aware that the Orc’s previous attitude to the prospect of a.....a possible physical union between them could perhaps be best described as being: astonishing strait-laced.
His current proposal once rejected however, was not an offer that Shagrat was especially likely to ever repeat. Pushing his very real doubts to the back of his mind – and with a certain spirit of now-or-never inevitability, the Prince made himself place a tentative hand on the Uruk’s bare buttocks. Not quite able to meet his gaze as he went about it, he spent a moment insinuating his fingertips into the Orc’s backside, working them back and forth carefully to try to help him to relax. Their tricky situation wasn’t in any way helped by the fact that as he laboured away, Faramir could hear Shagrat, actually grinding his teeth.
After carrying on in this manner for a while, Faramir realised that the Orc was watching him, a most peculiar expression on his face. “Faramir,” he said shortly, “this isn’t exactly my first time. There’s no need to bother faffing around, trying to break things to me gently or anything. I have done this – quite a bit of it - before.”
“But have you, Shagrat?” Faramir cried, in earnest. “Have you really, though? You are aware that this has potential to be – quite a pleasurable experience, even from your point of view? You do know that, don’t you?”
“So I’ve heard,” the Orc replied, and the great biting muscles in his cheek bunched visibly as he clenched his jaw. “Don’t go holding your breath on my account, though. Just stick it in and get it over with and we’ll be away.”
“Look here,” Faramir sighed, rocking back on his heels, “I do appreciate your – kind offer, Shagrat, but I’m not sure this is such a good idea. I don’t know what made you think of it, really.”
“Well you’d like to have a go, wouldn’t you? Seems the least I can do, seeing as you already brought me off so nicely.”
He was lying with his hands firmly under his back again. “I wouldn’t,” he muttered as Faramir, with more than a slight sense of having been here before, hauled one of his arms, followed by the other, out into the open again. “You don’t want me ending up taking a swing at you in the heat of things by mistake –“
Shagrat broke off as Faramir slapped one of the Orc’s hands decisively down onto his left hip. The other he wrapped into a loose fist around his erection, and over it he held his own hand, which he used to direct him - making him stroke it. Mercifully, this was enough of a diversion to keep both of them quiet for quite a while.
“There, Shagrat,” Faramir said eventually, his voice hoarser than he’d been expecting, “now as you see, I’m entirely at your – disposal. Guide me in – or don’t do it. It’s up to you.”
The Uruk bit his lips. “Maybe, instead of that, how about if we both went at it – at the same time. Together, eh?”
Faramir thought that was an admirable proposition and said so. Then he kissed the Orc’s face, whispering sweet nothings in his ear, and after a time suggested - “Shagrat. Perhaps if you tried for a moment opening your eye -?“
Shagrat met his gaze with a deeply worried look. And then his face softened, as if he had suddenly remembered what he was doing there. Faramir felt the Orc’s tense body under him, if not relaxing exactly, then at least growing – noticeably less rigid. He sighed, and for a moment ran his hands up and down each of Faramir’s forearms then reached up to stroke his chest, idling his fingertips through the soft curls of golden hair.
“Go on then,” Shagrat said at last, just a little nervously. Shifting into place, he took hold of Faramir by the hips again and pulled him closer with a slight, encouraging sort of movement. And it seemed he really was as ready as he’d ever be: the Prince positioned himself between the Orc’s legs, drew his breath, and gingerly eased his way in.
There was some resistance from the ring of muscles before him, but the palmful of Shagrat’s semen with which he’d remembered to slick himself at the last moment did help, and it was less than Faramir had been expecting. The sensation as he entered him – a dizzying combination of warmth and softness, overlain by a feeling of tightness and wonderful constriction – the sensations were quite exquisite. It was all too much for Faramir and he had to stop short for a moment, keeping himself absolutely still, simply to halt the approaching orgasm that threatened to overwhelm him far too soon. And this was a difficult task, for his very consciousness seemed - for the present, at least - to have rooted itself somewhere between the inside of his erect cock and the pleasurable ache in his balls and his lower groin; in the sense of pressure and tension that had been increasing there for some time now, that signified his urgent need for release. At last he felt he had regained control enough to allow him to resume. Faramir began pushing himself into the Uruk’s body, moving cautiously at first but in a series of increasingly erratic thrusts, while Shagrat lay under him still and stiff as a board.
Poor Faramir! He was a kind man, an unfailingly caring and generous lover (or very nearly - almost), and he knew that in theory - as well from first-hand experience - there was ( if he could only be sure of finding it!) an area on the person lying beneath him, that if set about correctly, just....so! - would undoubtedly provoke some intense and pleasurable response. He tried everything he could think of; varying his penetrations of the Orc by depth and angle and vigorousness, each in turn.
He noted that Shagrat had his eye shut again, was wincing noticeably - and was continuing to move not so much as a muscle throughout.
For an instant The Prince of Ithilien found himself wondering if it wouldn’t be better for him to simply finish quickly, to – as the Uruk had himself suggested –‘get it over with’. And he could have done that; after all he had been struggling to hold back his own climax for some time now, almost from the first moment they’d started this thing. Yes, secure in the knowledge that because of the strength of his regard for Faramir, Shagrat would undoubtedly let him do whatever he wanted to him, he could have used the Uruk to take his pleasure very easily indeed. But that went to the crux of the matter, didn’t it? Tied as it was to the reason the Uruk had always held such a low opinion of the act in which they were currently engaging: throughout that distant, but apparently still-harrowing past during which he’d been forced to perform in whatever manner his erstwhile masters in Mordor wished, his personal feelings had never for a moment been taken into account - and it was no wonder he’d come to view this kind of congress as something to be endured, leading only to sensations of fear, pain and revulsion.
“Shagrat?” Faramir began, full of concern for his companion. Framing the Orc’s face, he soothed him with hands that were only shaking slightly. “Is everything - are you all right?   If not we’ll stop - this instant –“
“No. It - it’s - fine. But, would you mind maybe kissing me a little bit Faramir?” Shagrat muttered, eye still squeezed closed. “Just to help – just so I keep in mind this is still you.”
“Of course I don’t mind,” Faramir exclaimed, petting the Uruk’s hair haphazardly, trying, with little success, to smooth it straight. “Of course I want do that. Of course I will. Of course.”
This wasn’t easy to manage however, because reaching one another - from the position they were already holding and given the slight, but under these circumstances significant height differential between the two parties involved - required quite the minor feat of bodily contortion.   They were yearning towards each other – the big Orc stretching from the waist up, and Faramir bending as best he could from the waist down when the body of one – or both of them, in some way, somewhat – jack-knifed.
Lurching clumsily against his companion, the Prince caught himself, exclaiming aloud in dismay. He was working his lower back cautiously, wondering if he had perhaps pulled a muscle - when the Orc’s good eye opened wide in surprise.
“Ah.” Shagrat said. “Oh!”
“Shagrat!” Faramir cried, “is something wrong?”
“No,” the Orc replied, quickly shaking his head. “No, that feels – “
“Am I hurting you?”
The Uruk was still shaking his head vaguely, with a perplexed look. “No, it’s – all right. It feels – different. Would you try - doing that again?”
Faramir rolled his hips slightly and as he did it - to his amazement, felt Shagrat straining his lower body up to meet him.
“Oh!” the Orc gasped, his head snapping back as he blinked his eye rapidly in surprise. “That – that’s different!”
The Prince repeated the movement, took as his much of his weight on his elbows and his knees as he was able - kept rolling his hips and screwing himself clumsily into Shagrat. The time for finesse was long gone - it was all Faramir could do to continue to contain himself, but this slip in technique – if there had been one – apparently made not too much difference, for the Orc was soon raising his buttocks up as far as he was able, hands alternately bunching underneath to lift them that little bit higher, then clutching handfuls of the grass by his sides as he lay there with a faintly dazed expression, occasionally uttering a low groan of pleasure.
“Here Shagrat,” Faramir murmured, as an idea came to him, that if he’d time to prepare or even think clearly about they were doing beforehand would no doubt have occurred to him much sooner than this. He grabbed for the heap of discarded clothing that lay nearby – landing his coat jacket or Shagrat’s breeches, both items cast off in the heat of the moment; he didn’t know, or care, which – and wadding it into a rough pad, managed to slip the makeshift bolster in under the Uruk’s hips.   “Perhaps you’ll find this’ll – help.”
And it was some kind of improvement, for with relatively little effort on his part Faramir found that he was now hitting the spot (so to speak) with every movement of his lower body, and that his actions were in turn provoking all sorts of hitherto unexpected reactions from his Orcish companion. After continuing in this manner for a while, he realized that he was unconsciously timing his movements to coincide with the series of soft, helpless noises that the Uruk was making and breathlessly, watching him through his eyelashes, the Prince enjoyed for a moment the uncharacteristic sight of Shagrat positively writhing in ecstasy there on the grass.
The sensations, long stimulation and – yes, even the spectacle of the enraptured Orc beneath him (unpalatable, admittedly, as this would have been to most people) – had all brought Faramir very close to his climax, and with the sound of his blood rushing loud in his ears, he buckled down to finish, then, and set about the Uruk properly, jamming his body into him in a series of vigorous, workmanlike thrusts.
But Shagrat’s hand shot immediately to the back of his head, grasping him tightly by a handful of hair. At the same time the Orc’s thighs gripped him below the waist, fixing him in place so firmly that any further movement on Faramir’s part was rendered absolutely impossible. The Prince had been on the very cusp of orgasm but the Uruk halted it, slotting his free hand down between their joined bodies and squeezing the base of his erection with such unbearable pressure that for a horrifying moment Faramir could have sworn his cock and balls were actually beginning to shrivel and retract back on themselves. His eyes glazed over with tears of anguish that came unbidden and the rush of his straining heartbeat was deafening, but still he could just make out the Orc saying to him -
“Not yet you don’t. Not yet.”
For a moment Faramir, groaning weakly, sobbing for breath, had to rest his forehead against the Uruk’s broad chest as he waited for the wave of faintness that was threatening to overcome him to subside. He soon regained control of himself however.
“You – !” Faramir spluttered in outrage, still pinned between his companion’s legs, but rearing up to put as much distance between them as he was able, “you wretched creature! Shagrat, you wretch! The orgasm of my life – and how could you? And after everything I’ve done for you –“
“Wait,” the Orc hushed him, “just – wait, won’t you. Two minutes.”
He brought out the hand that he’d been using so treacherously to clutch Faramir into submission and put it in his mouth.
“Can’t do it,” he admitted after a moment, his voice, for some reason, choked and slurring slightly. “You’ll have to.” “You’ll’av’ter”. He pressed his index and middle fingers encouragingly up against the Prince’s lips, eventually prompting him to - “go on and suck them for a minute or something, all right?”
“Suck on your own filthy fingers!”
Shagrat rolled his eye. “Well I would’ve, but you’ve gotten me in – such a state, now, haven’t you, that I’ve no spit to speak of, have I?”
“How you could imagine I would co-operate with you after an – an outrage on my person such as this, spurring you on in whatever acts of depraved mischief-making I’ve no doubt you’re planning!   You’re certainly going to have to think again –“
“Oh, give it a rest, Goldilocks. Just go on and wet them a little bit, eh?”
With great ill grace, Faramir complied, after which the Orc, simultaneously releasing his twin holds on the Prince’s head and his hips, reached around behind and pushed his newly-moistened fingers in. Shagrat moved them adroitly, pushing, kneading at some hidden point of pleasure on the inside until Faramir’s spine arched backwards under the stimulation and he uttered a wordless cry.
“There,” Shagrat gasped, “there. Now that, Goldilocks, is what you’ve been doing to me feels like.”
By this point Faramir felt dazed: either by the intensity of the sensations Shagrat had provoked in him, or dazzled by the morning sunlight that, after a moment, he realized was shining down through the canopy of leaves above them and directly into his eyes: he wasn’t certain which.
“Worth holding off for, for a minute,” muttered the Orc, by now seemingly as beside himself as Faramir was, almost, “innit?”.
“Give it a rest yourself, Shagrat,” the Prince replied, if a little distractedly. “Innit? Oh! Oh, yes.”
They carried on, moving in unison for a time, but all too soon the peak of pleasure that Faramir had recently been approaching was once again in his sights. He stopped, crouching over the Orc in an awkward hunch, and resting his weight on his forearms, laid his face on the Uruk’s sweat-slippery stomach, speaking against it.
“Shagrat, my – “ he began in a low, urgent voice, breaking off as he realized - yet again - that most of the conventional endearments wouldn’t, of course sit well upon an Orc - “my dear – Shagrat.”
Throughout all this, the Uruk hadn’t removed his hand from between Faramir’s buttocks and the fingers that were in him resumed pressing and massaging helpfully. Encouragingly.
Faramir whined in dejection and gritted his teeth. “Shagrat,” he said, “I’m afraid I simply can’t carry on like this much longer.”
“Fine by me,” the Orc replied, at once. Then he did something very decisive with his left hand; moved the fingers that were still lodged inside Faramir in a way that made him pitch forwards suddenly, bringing the two of them together again in a sharp, unexpected contact. And that was enough to finish Faramir, who up until that moment hadn’t been quite ready, or so he thought. He lay on top of Shagrat, pressing close and closer to him, gasping for breath and shuddering as he let the great wave of pleasure that had overtaken him – was still overtaking him, carry him where it would.
After a while he returned to himself, somewhat, and to the pleasant awareness that he was still lying atop (and to some extent inside) Shagrat, his head resting on the Uruk’s ribs and rising and falling slightly with each of the Orc’s deep, slow breaths.   One of Shagrat’s arms was holding him across his back and with the other hand he was stroking his hair, cautiously.
Faramir raised himself up onto his forearms again and grinned down at his companion, while the Orc met his gaze with the sheepish expression he often wore at such times.
“So. The ’orgasm of your life,’ eh?” he said at last.
The Prince sighed in and out, happily. “Something along those lines, Shagrat.”
“And you’re not still – angry at me, are you, for when I - you know, threw a spanner in the works for you earlier on?”
“Not angry in slightest,” Faramir confirmed. The foolish, happy smile he was still wearing was beginning to make his face ache, though he felt not much inclination to extinguish it.
“Yeah.” The Orc smiled lop-sidedly back at him. “Yeah. In the end I thought it was – all right, that. More than all right, to tell the truth.”
The pair of them eventually got around to – disengaging, from one another.
“Stop a minute,” Shagrat said as Faramir made to move away from him afterwards, “let me just – sort you out a bit first.” And to Faramir’s surprise the Orc, working a little self-consciously, proffered a bunch of damp vegetation which he used to begin blotting at him.   As he wiped him down, Faramir noticed a tell-tale patch of moisture on his companion’s abdomen, that seemed, now he thought about it, to be matched by a suspicious area of wetness on his own lower chest -
“Shagrat!” he exclaimed. “Did you –again? Have you – “
“....yes,” the Uruk replied hesitantly, turning away as he pulled on his breeches, “yes. I was, well, concentrating, more, on you at the time, but I think I must have. I mean I didn’t get – hard again or anything, but I think I - did.”
Faramir was delighted. “Oh, Shagrat! ‘More than all right’, in that case, indeed!”
“I never even knew it could do that,” the Orc said, uncertainly.   “Did you?”
“You’re asking me?”
“I - suppose!”
“I can’t say I’ve heard of such a thing before,” Faramir told him, “but then I’ve never been especially experienced in these sorts of matters, as you well know.”   He took hold of the Uruk’s hand. “So then, Shagrat!   What d’you think we should do to mark this momentous occasion? I was thinking, perhaps we could take a short walk?”
“Maybe later,” said the Orc, with a single sideways shake of the head.
“Unless perhaps you’re wanting –“ the Prince let go of him, breaking off doubtfully.   It was true, he considered, that Shagrat had made quite an effort, travelled no small distance to be here, all for reasons of his own that had nothing, really, to do with him. “Unless you wanted some time by yourself instead, because you plan on - communing with your trees, or anything like that.”
Shagrat yawned luxuriously, stretched, then settled further into the space at the base of the fallen tree until he was lying full-length, leaning back against the trunk.
“Well now, Goldilocks,” he replied lazily, beckoning him closer with a jerk of his head. “Maybe I’ll begin communing with the trees, or whatever you think I ought to be doing, in a minute.   But, if you’ll care to join me, I’m going to start things off by having a nice kip.”
Faramir, who’d also had an early start and an event-filled morning of his own already, didn’t need to be asked twice. He lay down beside Shagrat, fitting himself back against his companion’s chest as the Uruk’s arms, one sliding under and the other over him, went around his body immediately.   The Orc’s knees fitted themselves to the backs of Faramir’s legs until they were spooning together comfortably, and the low rumble of satisfaction, pitched at a level somewhere below the normal range of human hearing that Faramir felt running through him and which instinct told him was originating somewhere deep in Shagrat’s chest, made him drowsily wonder why on earth he hadn’t been the one to think of suggesting this.
TBC
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Speaks to the Trees