FIC: "Longing and Lust." LOTR FPS. NC-17 Boromir/Gimli (B/A, B/P, B/Elrond)
Title: "Longing and Lust"
Author: Barbara savageseraph
Recipient: cbpotts
Pairing: Boromir/Gimli (Boromir/Aragorn, Boromir/Pippin, Boromir/Elrond).
Fandom: LOTR FPS
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Middle Earth and its people do not belong to me. I just play with them for my own amusement, not for profit.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Summary: In the dark of Moria, Boromir is having dangerous thoughts.
Notes: Thanks to caras_galadhon who always seems to rescue me from my writing sins.
Comments: Written for cbpotts for the sons_of_gondor 2010 Trick or Treat Fic Exhange. cbpotts said, "I would love to see a Gimli/Boromir -- but not if it is Boromir making fun of Gimli."
Boromir knew the halls of Moria were vast, the soaring stone ceilings far enough overhead that even the light from the wizard's staff left them lost in darkness. He knew the caverns weren't closing in around him, but the gloom of Moria pressing heavily against him made remembering that hard. The air tasted of cold stone, despair, and old bones, and the stench of stagnant water from the Watcher's pool still clung to his clothes. Boromir tugged at his collar, swallowing around a lump in his throat.
Worse than any of that, the pull of the Ring-always a constant tug on his mind--grew stronger since he'd almost claimed it in the snows of Caradhras. Now, in the Mines, he couldn't keep his thoughts from turning to the image of the golden band, bright with promise, shining in the sun. Light that strong might be able to pierce the shadows of Moria, to kindle hope in his city and in his father.
All that and more. Boromir shivered as the Ring's call rolled through him, a pleasant teasing prickle that had his back arching, his cock stirring and hardening. All you have to do is reach out and take it.
"Those are dangerous thoughts, lad."
Boromir started at the Dwarf's soft words. He's no wizard. He can't know. He felt his cheeks color as he glanced at the rest of his companions, checking to see that they were still asleep before murmuring, "I don't know what you mean."
"Oh, I think you do." Gimli sat next to Boromir on a broken column, propping his axe next to him.
Boromir felt a flash of anger. His thoughts were his own. "I'm sure I don't."
Gimli shook his head and sighed heavily as he rested a hand on Boromir's knee. "I've seen your look before, lad. Balin had it and so did the others who left with him to reclaim these halls." He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Longing for what was lost, hope it could be reclaimed. And along with those, an edge. Call it lust. Call it greed. It was both those things and more."
"I am no Dwarf." To think that he might be tempted by the same base desires for jewels and wealth.
Gimli's brows raised. His grip tightened on Boromir's knee. "No, no, you aren't. But you have the same shadows. Maybe the same lack of sense when it comes to knowing what pots are best left unstirred."
Did Gimli think him such a fool? Boromir's jaw tensed. He wasn't the one determined to throw away their best chance of defeating the Enemy. He is trying to weaken you. Make you doubt yourself. Make you doubt the things you deserve...
Hidden things... Boromir was careful not to let the Ranger catch him watching. Not when Aragorn tipped his head back, throat working as he drank from one of the skins. Not when he bent over to collect branches and brush for their evening campfire. Not when he sat alone, rocking gently, one hand brushing the pendant that glimmered at his throat, the other hidden in the folds of his cloak. Watching Strider was prudent, but it wasn't prudence that left Boromir hard and shaking at the thought of Aragorn on his knees.
Forbidden things... Boromir felt a flush start in his cheeks and spread down his neck. Too many restless nights in Imladris, Elven wine left him tossing restlessly. It brought him wicked dreams of Pippin, the Halfing's lips slick and stretched around the head of Boromir's cock before Boromir turned him on his stomach and rode his wickedly tight body. Too many mornings, Boromir woke from the dream sticky and sweated.
Dangerous things... The Lord of Imladris was even more intolerable than the Dwarf. In the last Age, just as now, he tried to convince the line of Kings to destroy their best hope for victory. Elrond of Rivendell would be less able to meddle in the affairs of Men if he was constantly fucked to the point of exhaustion, less free with advice if his mouth was kept full of cock. Boromir's cock twitched against his palm at the thought of teaching the Elf lord to serve him.
Anything you desire. All things you desire. Boromir shook his head, trying to dispel the temptation washing through him in waves of fire. It was only when Gimil's intent expression made him glance down that he realized he had his breeches open, his hand inside curled around and stroking his own cock. Boromir jerked his hand back, tried to pull his breeches together, but Gimli's hand knocked his aside.
"No." Boromir tensed as the Dwarf's fingers brushed his shaft. "We're going to see to this now, lad." When Boromir tried to pull back, thick, calloused fingers closed around his cock, squeezed firmly enough to make his body jerk and him bite down on a cry. "On your knees."
"You're mad." The words were followed by a soft growl. "I'd never." Boromir's throat tightened, choking off words as Gimil's fingers tightened enough to bring tears to his eyes. Oh, but you would...
"On your knees."
Boromir knew the tone of command from his father. It demanded absolute obedience, even if the order being given was preposterous. You've dreamed about it. He slid off the stone, dropped to his knees.
"I'll bugger you every time the group stops to rest if that's what it takes to keep your mind from wandering in places it should not go." Gimli moved behind Boromir, tugged down his breeches. He heard the Dwarf spit before a cock hard as the stone he knelt on nudged his opening then pressed firmly inside.
Boromir almost cried out at the unfamiliar pain. Only keeping his gaze on his companions sleeping not far away and thinking of what they would see if he woke them helped him to choke it back. Even in his darkest dreams, it never hurt like this.
Don't fight it. Don't fight. Boromir shuddered as Gimli's cock forced him open. He bit down hard on his own forearm, hoping to fight pain with pain. The thrusts that started before he could get accustomed to the invasion were short and sharp, each one driving him forward into Gimli's fist, still tight around his cock. Boromir twisted and bucked as he tried to pull free, the latter only driving him more fully onto Gimli's cock. The Dwarf only grunted softly as Boromir gripped him hard. Nothing stopped or slowed the thrusts jarring his body.
Give in. Boromir bit down on his lip hard enough to taste blood. You've always wanted this. The low hum of the Ring and Gimli's cock rubbing inside him filled Boromir with liquid fire. No responsibility. No choice. Just surrender.
Boromir whimpered softly as something deep in his chest splintered and broke. Tension bled out of his body as he started riding Gimli's thrusts, working himself against the Dwarf's hand. He felt a flash of satisfaction and shame at the low rumble of approval that came from Gimli just before his thrusts grew more urgent.
Take what you want, son of Gondor. Boromir shoved back into Gimli's thrusts, forward into his hand. His cock hardened more than he thought possible. His balls ached like he hadn't come in years. He was close when he felt Gimli's cock twitch and spill inside him. Then a flash of panic that he'd be left wanting. But it took only a few more strokes, a few more halting thrusts, before he came.
By the time Boromir came back to himself, Gimli had eased out of him, tugged up his breeches. He touched Boromir's shoulder, squeezing gently. "There's a good lad. Now, go and rest. This watch is mine."
Boromir nodded, moved unsteadily back toward his companions. Sleep claimed him almost as soon as his head touched his pack, and as he slid into the inner dark of his own dreams, the Ring whispered, Surrender.
Author: Barbara savageseraph
Recipient: cbpotts
Pairing: Boromir/Gimli (Boromir/Aragorn, Boromir/Pippin, Boromir/Elrond).
Fandom: LOTR FPS
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Middle Earth and its people do not belong to me. I just play with them for my own amusement, not for profit.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Summary: In the dark of Moria, Boromir is having dangerous thoughts.
Notes: Thanks to caras_galadhon who always seems to rescue me from my writing sins.
Comments: Written for cbpotts for the sons_of_gondor 2010 Trick or Treat Fic Exhange. cbpotts said, "I would love to see a Gimli/Boromir -- but not if it is Boromir making fun of Gimli."
Boromir knew the halls of Moria were vast, the soaring stone ceilings far enough overhead that even the light from the wizard's staff left them lost in darkness. He knew the caverns weren't closing in around him, but the gloom of Moria pressing heavily against him made remembering that hard. The air tasted of cold stone, despair, and old bones, and the stench of stagnant water from the Watcher's pool still clung to his clothes. Boromir tugged at his collar, swallowing around a lump in his throat.
Worse than any of that, the pull of the Ring-always a constant tug on his mind--grew stronger since he'd almost claimed it in the snows of Caradhras. Now, in the Mines, he couldn't keep his thoughts from turning to the image of the golden band, bright with promise, shining in the sun. Light that strong might be able to pierce the shadows of Moria, to kindle hope in his city and in his father.
All that and more. Boromir shivered as the Ring's call rolled through him, a pleasant teasing prickle that had his back arching, his cock stirring and hardening. All you have to do is reach out and take it.
"Those are dangerous thoughts, lad."
Boromir started at the Dwarf's soft words. He's no wizard. He can't know. He felt his cheeks color as he glanced at the rest of his companions, checking to see that they were still asleep before murmuring, "I don't know what you mean."
"Oh, I think you do." Gimli sat next to Boromir on a broken column, propping his axe next to him.
Boromir felt a flash of anger. His thoughts were his own. "I'm sure I don't."
Gimli shook his head and sighed heavily as he rested a hand on Boromir's knee. "I've seen your look before, lad. Balin had it and so did the others who left with him to reclaim these halls." He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Longing for what was lost, hope it could be reclaimed. And along with those, an edge. Call it lust. Call it greed. It was both those things and more."
"I am no Dwarf." To think that he might be tempted by the same base desires for jewels and wealth.
Gimli's brows raised. His grip tightened on Boromir's knee. "No, no, you aren't. But you have the same shadows. Maybe the same lack of sense when it comes to knowing what pots are best left unstirred."
Did Gimli think him such a fool? Boromir's jaw tensed. He wasn't the one determined to throw away their best chance of defeating the Enemy. He is trying to weaken you. Make you doubt yourself. Make you doubt the things you deserve...
Hidden things... Boromir was careful not to let the Ranger catch him watching. Not when Aragorn tipped his head back, throat working as he drank from one of the skins. Not when he bent over to collect branches and brush for their evening campfire. Not when he sat alone, rocking gently, one hand brushing the pendant that glimmered at his throat, the other hidden in the folds of his cloak. Watching Strider was prudent, but it wasn't prudence that left Boromir hard and shaking at the thought of Aragorn on his knees.
Forbidden things... Boromir felt a flush start in his cheeks and spread down his neck. Too many restless nights in Imladris, Elven wine left him tossing restlessly. It brought him wicked dreams of Pippin, the Halfing's lips slick and stretched around the head of Boromir's cock before Boromir turned him on his stomach and rode his wickedly tight body. Too many mornings, Boromir woke from the dream sticky and sweated.
Dangerous things... The Lord of Imladris was even more intolerable than the Dwarf. In the last Age, just as now, he tried to convince the line of Kings to destroy their best hope for victory. Elrond of Rivendell would be less able to meddle in the affairs of Men if he was constantly fucked to the point of exhaustion, less free with advice if his mouth was kept full of cock. Boromir's cock twitched against his palm at the thought of teaching the Elf lord to serve him.
Anything you desire. All things you desire. Boromir shook his head, trying to dispel the temptation washing through him in waves of fire. It was only when Gimil's intent expression made him glance down that he realized he had his breeches open, his hand inside curled around and stroking his own cock. Boromir jerked his hand back, tried to pull his breeches together, but Gimli's hand knocked his aside.
"No." Boromir tensed as the Dwarf's fingers brushed his shaft. "We're going to see to this now, lad." When Boromir tried to pull back, thick, calloused fingers closed around his cock, squeezed firmly enough to make his body jerk and him bite down on a cry. "On your knees."
"You're mad." The words were followed by a soft growl. "I'd never." Boromir's throat tightened, choking off words as Gimil's fingers tightened enough to bring tears to his eyes. Oh, but you would...
"On your knees."
Boromir knew the tone of command from his father. It demanded absolute obedience, even if the order being given was preposterous. You've dreamed about it. He slid off the stone, dropped to his knees.
"I'll bugger you every time the group stops to rest if that's what it takes to keep your mind from wandering in places it should not go." Gimli moved behind Boromir, tugged down his breeches. He heard the Dwarf spit before a cock hard as the stone he knelt on nudged his opening then pressed firmly inside.
Boromir almost cried out at the unfamiliar pain. Only keeping his gaze on his companions sleeping not far away and thinking of what they would see if he woke them helped him to choke it back. Even in his darkest dreams, it never hurt like this.
Don't fight it. Don't fight. Boromir shuddered as Gimli's cock forced him open. He bit down hard on his own forearm, hoping to fight pain with pain. The thrusts that started before he could get accustomed to the invasion were short and sharp, each one driving him forward into Gimli's fist, still tight around his cock. Boromir twisted and bucked as he tried to pull free, the latter only driving him more fully onto Gimli's cock. The Dwarf only grunted softly as Boromir gripped him hard. Nothing stopped or slowed the thrusts jarring his body.
Give in. Boromir bit down on his lip hard enough to taste blood. You've always wanted this. The low hum of the Ring and Gimli's cock rubbing inside him filled Boromir with liquid fire. No responsibility. No choice. Just surrender.
Boromir whimpered softly as something deep in his chest splintered and broke. Tension bled out of his body as he started riding Gimli's thrusts, working himself against the Dwarf's hand. He felt a flash of satisfaction and shame at the low rumble of approval that came from Gimli just before his thrusts grew more urgent.
Take what you want, son of Gondor. Boromir shoved back into Gimli's thrusts, forward into his hand. His cock hardened more than he thought possible. His balls ached like he hadn't come in years. He was close when he felt Gimli's cock twitch and spill inside him. Then a flash of panic that he'd be left wanting. But it took only a few more strokes, a few more halting thrusts, before he came.
By the time Boromir came back to himself, Gimli had eased out of him, tugged up his breeches. He touched Boromir's shoulder, squeezing gently. "There's a good lad. Now, go and rest. This watch is mine."
Boromir nodded, moved unsteadily back toward his companions. Sleep claimed him almost as soon as his head touched his pack, and as he slid into the inner dark of his own dreams, the Ring whispered, Surrender.