"False Dawn." LOTR FPS. NC-17. Faramir/Aragorn (Aragorn/Boromir)
Title: " False Dawn "
Author: Barbara savageseraph
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Faramir/Aragorn (Aragorn/Boromir)
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.
Summary: A companion piece to earlier CLM offerings "Shadow" and "Unspoken." This time something from Faramir's POV.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Comments: Written for contrelamontre and crossposted to sons_of_gondor (along with earlier fics). An improv fic with the following guidelines: Write a story that captures the mood of a very early morning-or a very late night. No dawn/sunrise allowed. The time limit is 30 minutes.
"Please!"
Faramir woke to the word that shattered the pre-dawn hush. He grabbed his dagger and half rolled out of bed before he realized that he and Aragorn were alone in the room and that Aragorn was still asleep. The room was dark, thick with shadows, the fire burned down to little more than embers. The air was heavy with the weight of a city full of dreams. And nightmares.
Even in the meager light, he didn't need to touch Aragorn to see the tension in his face and neck, along his jaw. "Aragorn?" Faramir shook his lover's shoulder. "Wake up. You're dreaming."
Aragorn stirred, kicked at the covers that were twisted around his legs. He batted at Faramir's hand, but the moment their hands touched, Aragorn sighed. Relaxed. He took Faramir's hand, drew it down his chest and abdomen to press it firmly against his erection.
"Touch me."
The words were so clear that Faramir thought Aragorn had to be awake. He smiled, waiting for Aragorn's eyes to open, as he lazily stroked his lover. Aragorn tossed his head from side to side; his hips rose into Faramir's hand; but his eyes stayed closed.
"Harder." Aragorn's hand tightened over Faramir's, and he groaned as he drove into the tightness with short, hard thrusts. "Yes, just...like that...." Aragorn shuddered as he spilled over their joined hands. Semen smeared his belly and chest as he drew Faramir's hand up to his mouth. He rubbed his face against it, kissed it. Sighed. "Love you."
In the time it took for Aragorn to say the words, Faramir forgot the chilly air tightening his skin, forgot the grit scratching the corners of his eyes. He forgot the silence that fills the city just before it begins to wake. He forgot the ache of the wound that nearly claimed his life and the pain of years of abuse that nearly claimed his heart.
As much as Faramir wanted to wake Aragorn, he didn't want this moment to fade, so he kissed Aragorn's shoulder, whispered, "I love you too, my king," against his lover's skin.
"Love you"--Aragorn's hand tightened around his--"Boromir."
Faramir stiffened. As he pulled away from Aragorn, his hand clenched into a fist; he wanted to hit his lover, wanted to trade pain for pain. Then he remembered his own voice raised in anger against his father, Do you wish then that our places had been exchanged? That I had died instead of my brother? He heard his father's response, only it was Aragorn's voice that answered him, Yes, I wish that indeed.
Faramir rolled over on his side, turned his back on the smile that curved Aragorn's lips, closed his eyes against the coming dawn.
Author: Barbara savageseraph
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Faramir/Aragorn (Aragorn/Boromir)
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.
Summary: A companion piece to earlier CLM offerings "Shadow" and "Unspoken." This time something from Faramir's POV.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Comments: Written for contrelamontre and crossposted to sons_of_gondor (along with earlier fics). An improv fic with the following guidelines: Write a story that captures the mood of a very early morning-or a very late night. No dawn/sunrise allowed. The time limit is 30 minutes.
"Please!"
Faramir woke to the word that shattered the pre-dawn hush. He grabbed his dagger and half rolled out of bed before he realized that he and Aragorn were alone in the room and that Aragorn was still asleep. The room was dark, thick with shadows, the fire burned down to little more than embers. The air was heavy with the weight of a city full of dreams. And nightmares.
Even in the meager light, he didn't need to touch Aragorn to see the tension in his face and neck, along his jaw. "Aragorn?" Faramir shook his lover's shoulder. "Wake up. You're dreaming."
Aragorn stirred, kicked at the covers that were twisted around his legs. He batted at Faramir's hand, but the moment their hands touched, Aragorn sighed. Relaxed. He took Faramir's hand, drew it down his chest and abdomen to press it firmly against his erection.
"Touch me."
The words were so clear that Faramir thought Aragorn had to be awake. He smiled, waiting for Aragorn's eyes to open, as he lazily stroked his lover. Aragorn tossed his head from side to side; his hips rose into Faramir's hand; but his eyes stayed closed.
"Harder." Aragorn's hand tightened over Faramir's, and he groaned as he drove into the tightness with short, hard thrusts. "Yes, just...like that...." Aragorn shuddered as he spilled over their joined hands. Semen smeared his belly and chest as he drew Faramir's hand up to his mouth. He rubbed his face against it, kissed it. Sighed. "Love you."
In the time it took for Aragorn to say the words, Faramir forgot the chilly air tightening his skin, forgot the grit scratching the corners of his eyes. He forgot the silence that fills the city just before it begins to wake. He forgot the ache of the wound that nearly claimed his life and the pain of years of abuse that nearly claimed his heart.
As much as Faramir wanted to wake Aragorn, he didn't want this moment to fade, so he kissed Aragorn's shoulder, whispered, "I love you too, my king," against his lover's skin.
"Love you"--Aragorn's hand tightened around his--"Boromir."
Faramir stiffened. As he pulled away from Aragorn, his hand clenched into a fist; he wanted to hit his lover, wanted to trade pain for pain. Then he remembered his own voice raised in anger against his father, Do you wish then that our places had been exchanged? That I had died instead of my brother? He heard his father's response, only it was Aragorn's voice that answered him, Yes, I wish that indeed.
Faramir rolled over on his side, turned his back on the smile that curved Aragorn's lips, closed his eyes against the coming dawn.