Death Long Suffered: 16. At Last, Comfort

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16. At Last, Comfort

Though the day had been pleasantly warm, by nightfall the heat and humidity increased tenfold. The four soldiers lay on their bedrolls naked, a fact that surprised Faramir. Even in Ithilien, the company would never sleep naked. They dared not; they slept fully clothed with their weapons at hand.

The night sky, black with hardly a star visible, made Faramir shudder. 'I suppose it is safe here.' Dark clouds covered Minas Tirith making it difficult to see Ecthelion's Tower, yet the Black Lands, due to the ever-present fire on Mount Doom, glowed. Faramir's eye looked eastward. Again his body betrayed him as shivers ran up and down his spine. He had not been outdoors for almost a year now; kept safe and warm in the Citadel.

Tears filled his eye. To keep from sobbing aloud, he thrust his fist in his mouth. Unable to bear it any longer, he stood, threw on his leggings and walked westward from the camp. He would keep his eye on the City; he would listen to the sounds of the night; he would not think upon what happened to him at the Witch-king's hands. He wondered if he would ever be free of this agony of spirit.

"Faramir?"

"I am here, Boromir. I could not sleep."

"I promised you would this night. I have neglected you."

"Nay. We did so much today, I am exhausted. I was sure I would sleep."

"Fears in the night, whether one is exhausted or no, are not easily banished. I would try to help," his groin stirred, "if you would allow me?" He could see Faramir's eye widen. "Whatever you need?"

"That? I..."

He shivered and Boromir noted it. "Never the mind. Lie in my arms, if naught else; mayhap that is all you need to banish other thoughts, other arms."

"Boromir," Faramir choked and ran into his brother's sweet embrace.

The elder held the younger tightly, whispering words of comfort and fraternal love. When Faramir's sobs at last ceased, Boromir stopped stroking his back, but bit his lip as his member hardened. His very being burned; he could not remember feeling so alive. But he would do naught to frighten Faramir. Or to bring memories of horror untold upon his little brother.

Faramir sighed. "I love you, Boromir," his voice child-like in its trust. "I always have."

"And I you, sweet one. May I," his breath hitched. "Might I kiss you?"

Faramir lifted his head and Boromir leaned down, gently touching his lips to his brother's. Faramir sighed when Boromir pulled away. "That was lovely."

Boromir's face flamed at what he had done. "Forgive me. You must rest now. Let us return to camp and you might lie in my arms and sleep."

"I will not sleep now."

"Why ever not?"

Faramir rubbed against Boromir and the elder could feel his brother's hardened member against his thigh. He shuddered in alarm. "Nay. I promised myself. I will not take you. I cannot after what you have been through."

"You need not take me to comfort me. There are other ways."

Surprise filled Boromir's eyes. "I thought you said you were an innocent."

"Once."

"Oh Faramir!" Boromir pulled his brother close again. "Faramir, my love, my own." He buried his head into Faramir's shoulder. "I can hardly endure the thought."

"It should have been you, Boromir, who took my innocence. I had dreamt of it, many a night."

"When?" Boromir asked, astounded at the revelation.

"The first time was when I fell off my horse and broke my leg."

"You were only twelve!"

"Twelve with balls that filled and a cock that grew when you tried to comfort me. Did you not feel it? I was afraid to say anything, for fear you would hate me."

"As I have been afraid to admit such thoughts, such feelings. Faramir, this is forbidden love. Not the love between men that is dismissed as a necessity of a soldiers' life. But our love, if that is what it is, is of evil make."

"It is love, Boromir. I have loved you forever, for as long as I can remember. I wake up with you in my thoughts and I go to sleep too many nights holding myself as your face fills my mind."

Boromir's face grew redder, but he nodded. "The same has been true for me. Though being the elder, I have a duty to you, Faramir. I dare not-I dare not fly in the face of convention. I must be strong and keep us from this evil."

"Boromir," Faramir whispered huskily, "If this is evil, I want it every moment of every day." He thrust once again against Boromir's thigh. "Please. If for naught else but to help me, do something? Now?"

Tears filled Boromir's eyes. "I will be gentle," he shivered at the thought. "It will be slow and loving. Wait here but one moment. I must return to camp for something." He turned and hurried away into the night.

Faramir stood there shaking as fear engulfed him. He could not remember the last time he had been left alone. He tried to stifle his tears; tried to still the shuddering of his body. He held his member through the cloth and began to stroke it, thinking of Boromir. That helped. The fear slowly lessened.

Boromir stopped short, upon his return, his jaw slack. Faramir stood before him in all his glory. The moon finally broke through the clouds and now shone upon the little brother whom he loved, gently swaying as he pleasured himself. Taking three deep breaths in wonder, Boromir moved up behind him. He slowly put his arms around Faramir and kissed his neck.

Faramir startled, then relaxed. "I was afraid. You would have found a gibbering idiot if I had not taken myself in hand, thought upon you, and rubbed myself."

"Let me help you." He unfastened Faramir's leggings and pulled them down a bit, then took Faramir's member into his own hand. Faramir fell against his chest, nearly swooning with delight, and Boromir again kissed the delicate neck. He took Faramir's hand and placed it around his brother's member and the two worked it until Faramir came, sweetly moaning. When his brother's shuddering ceased, Boromir kissed him again. "That is only the beginning."

Faramir swallowed convulsively. "It felt so very right, Boromir. Please do not think this is evil. I have never felt so happy."

Boromir turned Faramir to face him and took his brother's chin in his clean hand. He leaned forward and tongued Faramir's lips. His brother shuddered again, violently, and Boromir crushed his body against him. He took Faramir's mouth, not gently, not as before, but with all the passion that enflamed him. He pushed his tongue against Faramir's lips and the adorable mouth opened to him. Boromir almost swooned himself at the taste. "Oh Valar! Faramir! I have wanted this forever." He plundered the sweet mouth, thrusting his tongue all around the wet cavern, exploring, tasting, loving every moment.

Faramir's tongue finally moved, caressing Boromir's. "There is a taste to this," Faramir said in wonder. "A sweet taste." Severe shaking took Faramir and he cried into Boromir's mouth, "Save me, Boromir!"

At once, Boromir pulled away, startled. "What?"

"I remember his taste," Faramir sobbed. "Hideous. It burned." He collapsed against his brother and wept.

Boromir pulled them both to the ground. He held Faramir gently and rubbed his back, his arms, his shoulders. "Shush. I am here now. This is the taste you will remember the rest of your life." He smiled. "Mayhap I speak proudly, but I know you will remember this, Faramir." He thrust his tongue again into Faramir's wet mouth and ravaged him.

Faramir slowly relaxed and stifled the memory. Boromir's tongue touched his lips, his teeth, his own tongue; its touch hot and glorious. The tongue laid waste to him until his member grew hard once again. "Boromir," he whispered. "Oh Boromir." He felt hands moving over his groin and he shivered in joy. "Touch me again."

Boromir never stopped his gentle caresses to his brother's hardening shaft. Never letting go, he used his other hand to remove Faramir's leggings entirely. Then, he shifted and pulled his own laces free and kicked his leggings off.

Faramir groaned into Boromir's mouth at the feel of his brother's hand on him. At last, with one tiny shiver, he let thoughts of the Witch-king flee. This was his beloved brother who had him well in hand. This was the touch he had waited for his entire life. He swooned.

TBC



This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.

Story Information

Author: Alcardilme

Status: General

Completion: Complete

Era: 3rd Age - The Stewards

Genre: Drama

Rating: Adult

Last Updated: 07/26/10

Original Post: 07/03/09

Go to Death Long Suffered overview

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