"Matters of Trust." LOTR-FPS. R. Boromir/Aragorn.
Title: "Matters of Trust"
Author: Barbara
Rating: R
Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir
Summary: Boromir asks a question Aragorn cannot answer.
Disclaimer: People and places belong to the Tolkien estate and New Line Cinema, not me. I just amuse myself with them for fun, not profit.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Comments: An improv fic with the following guidelines: write a fic that includes the following phrases--"Do you trust me?", "I wish I had said", "More than I did".. There is a 30-minute time limit.
"Matters of Trust"
"Do you trust me?" Boromir asks as he slides into me. Asking a question when I am least able or likely to respond is his special talent. He does it in the hope of catching me off my guard. He does it to gain the upper hand.
"Aragorn." He does not speak my name so much as issue a command. There is a flicker of anger in his eyes when I don't respond.
"Aragorn...."
I don't let him finish, pull his mouth down to mine. I wrap my legs around his waist and urge him on. It had been days since we've been able to steal some time alone. The landscape is more barren now; there are no thick forests that offer secluded places for us to tryst. As our road grows more perilous, moments like this will be rarer still. We don't have time to linger over niceties.
He begins to move more slowly, his lips brush my ear. "Do you trust me?" His teeth slide down the side of my neck, tracing the vein that throbs in time with his movement inside me. "Do you, Aragorn?" he asks just before his teeth sink into my shoulder hard enough to bruise but not break the skin.
My breath leaves me in a hiss as I arch up into him. "Would we...be here...doing this...if I didn't?"
He presses into me as deep as he can and then goes still. "You tell me. I don't plan on moving until you answer."
Sometimes, I come perilously close to hating him. I rake my nails down his back and grin when he shudders. "When the Enemy sends his minions down upon us, I would have you by my side, guarding my back."
He sighs, shakes his head in frustration. "That's not what I meant," he says, but he begins moving again and relaxes as the strain of holding back is gone.
This is not the time for restraint or subtlety. I reach down, grip his hips, and pull him into me harder. Faster.
"Do you...do you trust me?" His words are spoken through clenched teeth.
Every thrust drives me closer the edge. "I love you." I think I spoke the words aloud just before I tightened around him, spilled across both our bellies. He is silent as his seed fills me.
Trembling, he collapses on me, still inside me. His head rests on my chest.
I run my fingers through his sweaty hair. "I love you."
"I know you do." He raises his head, and his eyes are moist and glassy. "I heard you the first time."
His face is pale, too pale to be blamed on the moonlight. He looks ill and flinches when I touch his cheek.
"But that's not what I asked you."
He pushes back, slides from me. When he speaks, he does not meet my eyes. "Love and trust. They're not the same you know."
I do know. Just as I know I will never forget the moment in the Council when he very nearly took up the Ring. I trust his courage, his passion, his honor. I trust him with my life, but I cannot trust him with the Ring.
As he walks away, shoulders slumped as I have never seen them when faced with battle or danger, I wish I had said more than I did.
Author: Barbara
Rating: R
Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir
Summary: Boromir asks a question Aragorn cannot answer.
Disclaimer: People and places belong to the Tolkien estate and New Line Cinema, not me. I just amuse myself with them for fun, not profit.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Comments: An improv fic with the following guidelines: write a fic that includes the following phrases--"Do you trust me?", "I wish I had said", "More than I did".. There is a 30-minute time limit.
"Matters of Trust"
"Do you trust me?" Boromir asks as he slides into me. Asking a question when I am least able or likely to respond is his special talent. He does it in the hope of catching me off my guard. He does it to gain the upper hand.
"Aragorn." He does not speak my name so much as issue a command. There is a flicker of anger in his eyes when I don't respond.
"Aragorn...."
I don't let him finish, pull his mouth down to mine. I wrap my legs around his waist and urge him on. It had been days since we've been able to steal some time alone. The landscape is more barren now; there are no thick forests that offer secluded places for us to tryst. As our road grows more perilous, moments like this will be rarer still. We don't have time to linger over niceties.
He begins to move more slowly, his lips brush my ear. "Do you trust me?" His teeth slide down the side of my neck, tracing the vein that throbs in time with his movement inside me. "Do you, Aragorn?" he asks just before his teeth sink into my shoulder hard enough to bruise but not break the skin.
My breath leaves me in a hiss as I arch up into him. "Would we...be here...doing this...if I didn't?"
He presses into me as deep as he can and then goes still. "You tell me. I don't plan on moving until you answer."
Sometimes, I come perilously close to hating him. I rake my nails down his back and grin when he shudders. "When the Enemy sends his minions down upon us, I would have you by my side, guarding my back."
He sighs, shakes his head in frustration. "That's not what I meant," he says, but he begins moving again and relaxes as the strain of holding back is gone.
This is not the time for restraint or subtlety. I reach down, grip his hips, and pull him into me harder. Faster.
"Do you...do you trust me?" His words are spoken through clenched teeth.
Every thrust drives me closer the edge. "I love you." I think I spoke the words aloud just before I tightened around him, spilled across both our bellies. He is silent as his seed fills me.
Trembling, he collapses on me, still inside me. His head rests on my chest.
I run my fingers through his sweaty hair. "I love you."
"I know you do." He raises his head, and his eyes are moist and glassy. "I heard you the first time."
His face is pale, too pale to be blamed on the moonlight. He looks ill and flinches when I touch his cheek.
"But that's not what I asked you."
He pushes back, slides from me. When he speaks, he does not meet my eyes. "Love and trust. They're not the same you know."
I do know. Just as I know I will never forget the moment in the Council when he very nearly took up the Ring. I trust his courage, his passion, his honor. I trust him with my life, but I cannot trust him with the Ring.
As he walks away, shoulders slumped as I have never seen them when faced with battle or danger, I wish I had said more than I did.