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archetHappy Birthday ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
zasjah! I promised you birthday fic, and inspiration struck, so here it is...this came together pretty fast and hasn't had much work, it's a bit smutty and schmoopy all at once, I think. I hope you like and have a great birthday!
Title: Celebration of Scars
Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir
Rating: Adult content/NC17
Summary: The bed chamber was warm, a little too warm but Aragorn did not rise from the bed to open the window that would allow the cool night air to enter in.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, nor did I create them. I only borrowed them to make this fic.
Feedback: welcomed and appreciated
Note: written in honor ofzasjah’s birthday
~*~
The bed chamber was warm, a little too warm but Aragorn did not rise from the bed to open the window that would allow the cool night air to enter in. Instead he pulled back the bed linens, pushing them away from his body, away from the naked body of his lover. Beside him Boromir lay still, deeply asleep, quite possibly dreaming and Aragorn was not yet ready to wake him. Having removed the too warm wrap of bedding, Aragorn again took his place by Boromir’s side, relishing the press of heated, naked skin against his own. It seemed to him that the night was only getting hotter.
After a few moments spent simply resting, Aragorn half rose, rolling on his side he propped himself up on his elbow and curved his body around Boromir’s. With a smile he reached out and lay his hand low on Boromir’s belly, then slid his hand upwards, reveling in the dip and curve of flesh and muscle, of smooth skin interrupted here and there by scars, some Aragorn could see, some he could only feel. His hand drifted up, gliding over the bud of a nipple, stopping over the beat of Boromir’s heart and there, beneath his palm, Aragorn could feel yet another scar, or rather, two very distinct scars.
They were the testament of wounds that had been life threatening, and had there been a third Boromir would have surely died. There were nights where Aragorn woke to find himself sweating and shaking, still in the grip of the memory of the day he had so nearly lost his lover. But now, today, tonight, the wounds had healed and closed over, leaving only two puckered scars where once two thick shafted, black arrows had been.
There was no more pain, nothing but a dull ache that came to Boromir in his chest and shoulder sometimes before a rain, or during cold weather. There was no more blood, only the memory of it, on the arrows, on Aragorn’s hands, and that was the memory that stalked his dark dreams most often when he had them. But for now Aragorn pushed those thoughts aside, for now he could touch and taste and smell his lover, for now Aragorn could thank whatever grace that had speeded him to Boromir’s side, just in time to save prevent the third, killing arrow strike.
Aragorn caressed the scars, and after a time leaned down and pressed his lips there, laying first one, then two, then many gentle kisses against Boromir’s marked skin. Time seemed to stand still and the only movement that seemed to exist in the world was the flickering flames of the candles on their wicks, and the slow steady rhythm of Boromir’s breathing. Aragorn laid a final kiss to each scar, then drew away, but only so far as to gaze down upon Boromir’s face, his bare body laid out for Aragorn’s pleasure.
Aragorn sent his hand moving, sliding down this time, over chest and belly and past the patch of dark curls to Boromir’s manhood, which like it’s master, seemed to be sleeping. A smile curving his lips, Aragorn’s long fingers began to tease, stroking until Boromir shifted restlessly in his sleep, until the shaft held in his hand grew firm.
Abruptly Aragon released the shaft, and he had to grin when Boromir made a sleepy, unhappy sound. With his lover rapidly waking, Aragorn moved swiftly, moving down Boromir’s body. Reaching out he coaxed firm, muscled thighs apart, and licking his lips, he slid neatly between Boromir’s spread legs. Once settled Aragorn closed his hands around Boromir’s hips and dipping his head, swallowed the tip of Boromir’s filling cock into his mouth.
Suddenly Boromir was awake. “Aragorn!”
Aragorn only smiled up at his lover, and took in more of Boromir’s length. In response Boromir glared, but the glare rapidly softened and his green eyes grew dark as he looked down the length of his naked body to where his King was busy swallowing him whole. He let his head fall back onto the pillow and moaned, widening his legs, hands reaching up to grasp the carved head of the bed.
Engulfed in pleasure Boromir let his eyes drift shut, let his hips rock up into the warm, slick heat of Aragorn’s offered mouth and he gave his lover another moan.
Aragorn reveled in Boromir’s response, in his moans and the needful rocking of his hips, but there was something more that Aragorn wanted, and in having it he regretfully let the hard cock slip from his mouth. Before Boromir could even protest Aragorn was moving, returning to his place at Boromir’s side, reaching down he took Boromir’s cock in hand. Leaning close he whispered into Boromir’s ear, “Open your eyes, my love.”
Boromir obeyed, more in response to the change in sensation than anything. He opened his eyes to find Aragorn leaning over him, eyes dark and glittering. Aragorn’s hand was wrapped around his manhood, pumping his cock expertly and Boromir could not resist thrusting up into the tight tunnel of Aragorn’s fingers.
“Aragorn,” he gasped, knowing exactly what his lover needed but wanting to hear the words, even as lost to passion as he was, Boromir wanted the words.
Aragorn’s eyes had strayed to the twin scars again, but as Boromir gasped his name he looked back down into heavy, dark green eyes.
“Keep your beautiful eyes open, my love. Keep them open and show me everything, everything, my Gondor.”
Aragorn’s fingers tightened, worked Boromir’s cock faster, harder, bent on bringing him to release. Beneath him Boromir’s head tossed on the pillow, but he kept his eyes open and on Aragorn’s, he gave Aragorn every sound and every scrap of emotion he could possibly convey with his body, his voice, his eyes.
Breathless at the sight of his Steward so lost in passion, Aragorn leaned down, nipped at Boromir’s neck, his jaw, his lips, and when he drew back he stared down into Boromir’s dilated eyes and watched at this beautiful, strong man was taken over by his release. Boromir shouted Aragorn’s name, arched up off the bed, hips pumping into Aragorn’s hand, release streaking out over Aragorn’s fingers to paint his own belly, and all the while Boromir kept his eyes open, allowing his lover to gaze into him at his most lost, vulnerable moment, until he literally could not keep them open any longer.
Breathing nearly as hard as Boromir, Aragorn watched as Boromir collapsed back onto the bed, a fine sheen of sweat on his skin, shining in the candlelight. Giving his softening cock a few more strokes for good measure, Aragorn leaned down and sealed his lips over Boromir’s. The kiss delved deep, and had both men moaning into one another’s mouth by the time Aragorn drew away.
Holding Boromir’s gaze, Aragorn lifted his hand and licked away the remnants of Boromir’s climax from his fingers, smiling as he did. Boromir groaned, squirmed on the bed, and then finally lay still, apparently drained when Aragorn reached out and took him in his arms. They lay still for long moments, letting their hearts slow, until finally Boromir drew away, but only so as to look questioningly up at his King, his lover.
Boromir slid his hand down Aragorn’s thigh. “Now I want to see you,” but before Boromir’s hand could achieve its destination, Aragorn stopped him with a kiss.
Drawing away, “You will, my Gondor, you will soon enough,” Aragorn promised. In a swift move he shifted and rolled atop Boromir, ground his hips down and earned a moan from his lover, the sound rich and lush and bringing a hungry smile to Aragorn’s lips.
“Relax now, my love. You’ll have me soon enough,” and Aragorn drew down and pressed his lips against the scars on Boromir’s chest.
Aragorn wanted to see Boromir again, see him lost and captured in the pleasure only Aragorn was allowed to bring in him, and when he did Aragorn meant to be buried deep within his lover’s body. So he would deny himself for the moment, and would wait for Boromir’ s body to recover.
Aragorn lifted his head, smiled as Boromir grinned up at him, as he brushed back dark sweaty hair back form Aragorn’s face.
“I love you,” Boromir said softly, and Aragorn’s heart fairly burst with happiness.
“And I love you,” he replied, and then drew down to taste his Steward’s lips. His hand slid up Boromir’s chest, coming to rest over the scars, and in that moment Aragorn knew that he would spend the rest of their lives celebrating, cherishing, the great gift they had been given...each other.
zasjah! I promised you birthday fic, and inspiration struck, so here it is...this came together pretty fast and hasn't had much work, it's a bit smutty and schmoopy all at once, I think. I hope you like and have a great birthday!Title: Celebration of Scars
Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir
Rating: Adult content/NC17
Summary: The bed chamber was warm, a little too warm but Aragorn did not rise from the bed to open the window that would allow the cool night air to enter in.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, nor did I create them. I only borrowed them to make this fic.
Feedback: welcomed and appreciated
Note: written in honor of
zasjah’s birthday~*~
The bed chamber was warm, a little too warm but Aragorn did not rise from the bed to open the window that would allow the cool night air to enter in. Instead he pulled back the bed linens, pushing them away from his body, away from the naked body of his lover. Beside him Boromir lay still, deeply asleep, quite possibly dreaming and Aragorn was not yet ready to wake him. Having removed the too warm wrap of bedding, Aragorn again took his place by Boromir’s side, relishing the press of heated, naked skin against his own. It seemed to him that the night was only getting hotter.
After a few moments spent simply resting, Aragorn half rose, rolling on his side he propped himself up on his elbow and curved his body around Boromir’s. With a smile he reached out and lay his hand low on Boromir’s belly, then slid his hand upwards, reveling in the dip and curve of flesh and muscle, of smooth skin interrupted here and there by scars, some Aragorn could see, some he could only feel. His hand drifted up, gliding over the bud of a nipple, stopping over the beat of Boromir’s heart and there, beneath his palm, Aragorn could feel yet another scar, or rather, two very distinct scars.
They were the testament of wounds that had been life threatening, and had there been a third Boromir would have surely died. There were nights where Aragorn woke to find himself sweating and shaking, still in the grip of the memory of the day he had so nearly lost his lover. But now, today, tonight, the wounds had healed and closed over, leaving only two puckered scars where once two thick shafted, black arrows had been.
There was no more pain, nothing but a dull ache that came to Boromir in his chest and shoulder sometimes before a rain, or during cold weather. There was no more blood, only the memory of it, on the arrows, on Aragorn’s hands, and that was the memory that stalked his dark dreams most often when he had them. But for now Aragorn pushed those thoughts aside, for now he could touch and taste and smell his lover, for now Aragorn could thank whatever grace that had speeded him to Boromir’s side, just in time to save prevent the third, killing arrow strike.
Aragorn caressed the scars, and after a time leaned down and pressed his lips there, laying first one, then two, then many gentle kisses against Boromir’s marked skin. Time seemed to stand still and the only movement that seemed to exist in the world was the flickering flames of the candles on their wicks, and the slow steady rhythm of Boromir’s breathing. Aragorn laid a final kiss to each scar, then drew away, but only so far as to gaze down upon Boromir’s face, his bare body laid out for Aragorn’s pleasure.
Aragorn sent his hand moving, sliding down this time, over chest and belly and past the patch of dark curls to Boromir’s manhood, which like it’s master, seemed to be sleeping. A smile curving his lips, Aragorn’s long fingers began to tease, stroking until Boromir shifted restlessly in his sleep, until the shaft held in his hand grew firm.
Abruptly Aragon released the shaft, and he had to grin when Boromir made a sleepy, unhappy sound. With his lover rapidly waking, Aragorn moved swiftly, moving down Boromir’s body. Reaching out he coaxed firm, muscled thighs apart, and licking his lips, he slid neatly between Boromir’s spread legs. Once settled Aragorn closed his hands around Boromir’s hips and dipping his head, swallowed the tip of Boromir’s filling cock into his mouth.
Suddenly Boromir was awake. “Aragorn!”
Aragorn only smiled up at his lover, and took in more of Boromir’s length. In response Boromir glared, but the glare rapidly softened and his green eyes grew dark as he looked down the length of his naked body to where his King was busy swallowing him whole. He let his head fall back onto the pillow and moaned, widening his legs, hands reaching up to grasp the carved head of the bed.
Engulfed in pleasure Boromir let his eyes drift shut, let his hips rock up into the warm, slick heat of Aragorn’s offered mouth and he gave his lover another moan.
Aragorn reveled in Boromir’s response, in his moans and the needful rocking of his hips, but there was something more that Aragorn wanted, and in having it he regretfully let the hard cock slip from his mouth. Before Boromir could even protest Aragorn was moving, returning to his place at Boromir’s side, reaching down he took Boromir’s cock in hand. Leaning close he whispered into Boromir’s ear, “Open your eyes, my love.”
Boromir obeyed, more in response to the change in sensation than anything. He opened his eyes to find Aragorn leaning over him, eyes dark and glittering. Aragorn’s hand was wrapped around his manhood, pumping his cock expertly and Boromir could not resist thrusting up into the tight tunnel of Aragorn’s fingers.
“Aragorn,” he gasped, knowing exactly what his lover needed but wanting to hear the words, even as lost to passion as he was, Boromir wanted the words.
Aragorn’s eyes had strayed to the twin scars again, but as Boromir gasped his name he looked back down into heavy, dark green eyes.
“Keep your beautiful eyes open, my love. Keep them open and show me everything, everything, my Gondor.”
Aragorn’s fingers tightened, worked Boromir’s cock faster, harder, bent on bringing him to release. Beneath him Boromir’s head tossed on the pillow, but he kept his eyes open and on Aragorn’s, he gave Aragorn every sound and every scrap of emotion he could possibly convey with his body, his voice, his eyes.
Breathless at the sight of his Steward so lost in passion, Aragorn leaned down, nipped at Boromir’s neck, his jaw, his lips, and when he drew back he stared down into Boromir’s dilated eyes and watched at this beautiful, strong man was taken over by his release. Boromir shouted Aragorn’s name, arched up off the bed, hips pumping into Aragorn’s hand, release streaking out over Aragorn’s fingers to paint his own belly, and all the while Boromir kept his eyes open, allowing his lover to gaze into him at his most lost, vulnerable moment, until he literally could not keep them open any longer.
Breathing nearly as hard as Boromir, Aragorn watched as Boromir collapsed back onto the bed, a fine sheen of sweat on his skin, shining in the candlelight. Giving his softening cock a few more strokes for good measure, Aragorn leaned down and sealed his lips over Boromir’s. The kiss delved deep, and had both men moaning into one another’s mouth by the time Aragorn drew away.
Holding Boromir’s gaze, Aragorn lifted his hand and licked away the remnants of Boromir’s climax from his fingers, smiling as he did. Boromir groaned, squirmed on the bed, and then finally lay still, apparently drained when Aragorn reached out and took him in his arms. They lay still for long moments, letting their hearts slow, until finally Boromir drew away, but only so as to look questioningly up at his King, his lover.
Boromir slid his hand down Aragorn’s thigh. “Now I want to see you,” but before Boromir’s hand could achieve its destination, Aragorn stopped him with a kiss.
Drawing away, “You will, my Gondor, you will soon enough,” Aragorn promised. In a swift move he shifted and rolled atop Boromir, ground his hips down and earned a moan from his lover, the sound rich and lush and bringing a hungry smile to Aragorn’s lips.
“Relax now, my love. You’ll have me soon enough,” and Aragorn drew down and pressed his lips against the scars on Boromir’s chest.
Aragorn wanted to see Boromir again, see him lost and captured in the pleasure only Aragorn was allowed to bring in him, and when he did Aragorn meant to be buried deep within his lover’s body. So he would deny himself for the moment, and would wait for Boromir’ s body to recover.
Aragorn lifted his head, smiled as Boromir grinned up at him, as he brushed back dark sweaty hair back form Aragorn’s face.
“I love you,” Boromir said softly, and Aragorn’s heart fairly burst with happiness.
“And I love you,” he replied, and then drew down to taste his Steward’s lips. His hand slid up Boromir’s chest, coming to rest over the scars, and in that moment Aragorn knew that he would spend the rest of their lives celebrating, cherishing, the great gift they had been given...each other.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2005-03-17 07:17 am (UTC)This little fic of yours is a precious jewel, and I'm adding it to my favorites! Thank you very much!!! `;-b~
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Date: 2005-03-20 01:09 am (UTC)Thanks so much for reading! :)
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Date: 2005-03-17 07:38 am (UTC)What a way to start a birthday morning. :-)
*happy sigh*
Thank you so much for this most precious gift!
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Date: 2005-03-20 01:11 am (UTC)Thank you for your kinds words, *hugs* ;)
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Date: 2005-03-17 07:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-20 01:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-17 08:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-20 01:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-20 01:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-17 02:28 pm (UTC)~Kris
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Date: 2005-03-20 01:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-17 03:15 pm (UTC)Tiny widdle typo though: Giving his softening cock a few more storks for good measure, Aragorn leaned down and sealed his lips over Boromir’s.
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Date: 2005-03-20 01:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-20 03:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-17 03:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-20 01:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-17 04:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-20 01:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-20 01:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-18 03:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-19 05:07 pm (UTC)*happy sigh*
And thank you! ;-0
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Date: 2005-03-20 01:23 am (UTC)