Boromir/Faramir ficlet
Apr. 29th, 2005 10:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
archetI'm supposed to be working on a something else, but Faramir is such a persistant git, I've ended up with this instead. ;)
Title: Warm Afternoon
Pairing: Boromir/Faramir
Rating: PG
Summary: a moment made of sunlight and warmth
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, nor did I create them, J.R.R. Tolkien did. I only borrowed them to make this ficlet.
Feedback: welcomed and appreciated
Archive: my LJ only, if interested please ask
~:~:~:~:~:~
“What do you mean?” Boromir asked, and Faramir had to smile. He shrugged, feeling ridiculous for a moment, but only for a moment. Faramir lifted his eyes and looked on his brother where he sat in the sun, and yes, any thought of being ridiculous simply fell away.
Boromir’s cheeks held a bare flush from the warmth of the day, and that same bright afternoon warmth gleamed golden against his fair hair. Yet most of all it was his eyes, so very green as they looked back at Faramir, that caught and held him, ensnared him so completely and stole away any embarrassment he might have suffered.
“Do this for me, Boromir?” Faramir smiled, and as he knew he would, Boromir shook his head and smiled back.
“Very well, but I don’t see how I will be able to-“
“I do, I will see to it. Please, Boromir, I want this.”
Faramir laid his hand upon Boromir’s shoulder, and in his mind’s eye he saw the smooth, pale skin hidden beneath the crimson silk tunic Boromir wore. He saw the invisible paths he had, just the night before, traveled along with his mouth, his tongue, his hands. Faramir had to close his eyes for a brief moment as the memories came upon him so thick he felt he could nearly hold them in his very hands, as tangible and weighty as a book or a sword might feel.
Beneath his hand Boromir moved, and opening his eyes Faramir gazed down at his brother as he settled himself on his back, resting upon a cushion of spring green grass that was just tall enough to brush against the tops of his shoulders.
Leaning over him Faramir’s smile widened, his eyes holding Boromir’s as he patiently tugged at the laces of the embroidered tunic Boromir wore. He untied the laces, loosened them until the edges of the tunic lay aside and the fair skin beneath was naked to the sun. Faramir gently stroked Boromir’s neck and leaning down laid a row of kisses from the hollow of his throat to the strong line of his jaw. Beneath his lips Boromir stirred, arched his neck, growled softly. “Faramir. If you continue doing that…”
Faramir laughed and drew away. “You’re right, of course, but I find it immensely difficult to keep my hands to myself.”
“Then do not,” Boromir ventured hopefully, and again Faramir had to look away from the warm look in Boromir’s eyes, for if he did not he knew would have his hands back upon his brother and though he wanted that terribly, there was something else he was after this day. Taking a moment to regain his composure, Faramir looked instead at Boromir’s cloak, surcoat and vambraces, his sword belt and sheathed sword, the scabbard gleaming in the sunlight that rested on the grass a short distance away, all having long since been discarded under the heat of the sun.
Finally he turned back, pushed Boromir back against the grass where he had half risen. “No. You promised.”
Disappointed, Boromir gave an exaggerated sigh and settled back down obediently, and as he did Faramir drew nearer and that lured a smile back onto his lips.
“Very well, what should I do?”
Faramir bit back a laugh. “Just lie still and close your eyes, if you can, and let me take care of the rest.” He reached out and brushed Boromir’s hair back from his temple, recognizing that Boromir was putting aside his own desires in favor of what Faramir wanted. It was something Boromir did willingly and often, and something Faramir vowed never to take for granted.
Boromir gazed up, and now his expression was neither amused nor playing at being disappointed, but held something Faramir couldn’t quite name but that he instinctively knew belonged to him, and only him. Boromir reached out and caught his hand, brought it to his lips and pressed a warm kiss against his fingers, then released them and closed his eyes.
“I am yours, Faramir. Do what you will.”
For a long handful of heartbeats Faramir went completely still, could only gaze down at the vision his brother made and could not even summon the will to breathe. His hand seemed to rise of its own accord, reached out and lay flush against Boromir’s cheek, lightly cupping, his thumb stroking along the cheekbone, fingers caressing along the curve of Boromir’s ear. About the same time that Faramir remembered to breathe his fingers had roamed to Boromir’s hair, combing through the dark blond locks. They eventually journeyed down, tracing along the line of Boromir’s neck with a slow, gentle touch was meant to soothe and calm, not arouse.
Still, Boromir shifted a little under his touch and Faramir leaned down, whispered against his ear. “Be calm for me, Boromir...just relax, feel the sun on your face, the warmth of my hand...”
Faramir ran his hand down over Boromir’s shoulder and over the curve of his bicep, passing over richly embroidered silk to the sun-warm skin of his bare forearm, and down even over the palm of his hand, paying attention to each long finger and the calluses found there. He cradled Boromir’s hand in his own and massaged the palm with his thumb with slow, gentle circles. It wasn’t long before Faramir could see that his methods were working, Boromir had fallen still beneath his touch, the stubborn line between his brows easing. Yet even after his chest was rising and falling with the regular, even rhythm of sleep, Faramir kept his hands moving over his brother, petting and stroking, his eyes taking in every nuance of Boromir’s unguarded face.
Faramir spent the long, warm afternoon watching Boromir sleep beside him with the sun upon him, knowing that they would spend the night beneath the moon tangled together in love and lust within one another’s arms. He spent the long, warm afternoon smiling, knowing that Boromir truly did understand why he wanted this, though he pretended otherwise.
They had so few moments together that belonged just to them and them alone, and fewer still that were calm and quiet like this. Sacred moments, these were, and though Faramir had seen Boromir in war and in anger, in happiness and lost in desire he rarely had in recent years seen him simply in sleep. Usually when they were together alone, each was so exhausted from having snatched a moment’s passion that they slept at the same time, each man never finding a more untroubled sleep than in the other’s arms. But now, Faramir stroked Boromir’s hair, leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against his temple. For now Faramir had this moment of sweet quietude with his brother and in the coming days, weeks, years, he would have it in memory to bring out as a light against the darkness when Boromir was far from his embrace.
Faramir smiled, and time seemed to slow to a trickle as he lay and simply watched Boromir sleep, as he drank in the sight and smell of him, the feel of him. Faramir spent the long, warm afternoon watching over Boromir’s rest, simply loving him, reveling in this one, sacred moment made of sunlight and warmth, in the bond they shared that was unbending, never ending.
Title: Warm Afternoon
Pairing: Boromir/Faramir
Rating: PG
Summary: a moment made of sunlight and warmth
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, nor did I create them, J.R.R. Tolkien did. I only borrowed them to make this ficlet.
Feedback: welcomed and appreciated
Archive: my LJ only, if interested please ask
~:~:~:~:~:~
“What do you mean?” Boromir asked, and Faramir had to smile. He shrugged, feeling ridiculous for a moment, but only for a moment. Faramir lifted his eyes and looked on his brother where he sat in the sun, and yes, any thought of being ridiculous simply fell away.
Boromir’s cheeks held a bare flush from the warmth of the day, and that same bright afternoon warmth gleamed golden against his fair hair. Yet most of all it was his eyes, so very green as they looked back at Faramir, that caught and held him, ensnared him so completely and stole away any embarrassment he might have suffered.
“Do this for me, Boromir?” Faramir smiled, and as he knew he would, Boromir shook his head and smiled back.
“Very well, but I don’t see how I will be able to-“
“I do, I will see to it. Please, Boromir, I want this.”
Faramir laid his hand upon Boromir’s shoulder, and in his mind’s eye he saw the smooth, pale skin hidden beneath the crimson silk tunic Boromir wore. He saw the invisible paths he had, just the night before, traveled along with his mouth, his tongue, his hands. Faramir had to close his eyes for a brief moment as the memories came upon him so thick he felt he could nearly hold them in his very hands, as tangible and weighty as a book or a sword might feel.
Beneath his hand Boromir moved, and opening his eyes Faramir gazed down at his brother as he settled himself on his back, resting upon a cushion of spring green grass that was just tall enough to brush against the tops of his shoulders.
Leaning over him Faramir’s smile widened, his eyes holding Boromir’s as he patiently tugged at the laces of the embroidered tunic Boromir wore. He untied the laces, loosened them until the edges of the tunic lay aside and the fair skin beneath was naked to the sun. Faramir gently stroked Boromir’s neck and leaning down laid a row of kisses from the hollow of his throat to the strong line of his jaw. Beneath his lips Boromir stirred, arched his neck, growled softly. “Faramir. If you continue doing that…”
Faramir laughed and drew away. “You’re right, of course, but I find it immensely difficult to keep my hands to myself.”
“Then do not,” Boromir ventured hopefully, and again Faramir had to look away from the warm look in Boromir’s eyes, for if he did not he knew would have his hands back upon his brother and though he wanted that terribly, there was something else he was after this day. Taking a moment to regain his composure, Faramir looked instead at Boromir’s cloak, surcoat and vambraces, his sword belt and sheathed sword, the scabbard gleaming in the sunlight that rested on the grass a short distance away, all having long since been discarded under the heat of the sun.
Finally he turned back, pushed Boromir back against the grass where he had half risen. “No. You promised.”
Disappointed, Boromir gave an exaggerated sigh and settled back down obediently, and as he did Faramir drew nearer and that lured a smile back onto his lips.
“Very well, what should I do?”
Faramir bit back a laugh. “Just lie still and close your eyes, if you can, and let me take care of the rest.” He reached out and brushed Boromir’s hair back from his temple, recognizing that Boromir was putting aside his own desires in favor of what Faramir wanted. It was something Boromir did willingly and often, and something Faramir vowed never to take for granted.
Boromir gazed up, and now his expression was neither amused nor playing at being disappointed, but held something Faramir couldn’t quite name but that he instinctively knew belonged to him, and only him. Boromir reached out and caught his hand, brought it to his lips and pressed a warm kiss against his fingers, then released them and closed his eyes.
“I am yours, Faramir. Do what you will.”
For a long handful of heartbeats Faramir went completely still, could only gaze down at the vision his brother made and could not even summon the will to breathe. His hand seemed to rise of its own accord, reached out and lay flush against Boromir’s cheek, lightly cupping, his thumb stroking along the cheekbone, fingers caressing along the curve of Boromir’s ear. About the same time that Faramir remembered to breathe his fingers had roamed to Boromir’s hair, combing through the dark blond locks. They eventually journeyed down, tracing along the line of Boromir’s neck with a slow, gentle touch was meant to soothe and calm, not arouse.
Still, Boromir shifted a little under his touch and Faramir leaned down, whispered against his ear. “Be calm for me, Boromir...just relax, feel the sun on your face, the warmth of my hand...”
Faramir ran his hand down over Boromir’s shoulder and over the curve of his bicep, passing over richly embroidered silk to the sun-warm skin of his bare forearm, and down even over the palm of his hand, paying attention to each long finger and the calluses found there. He cradled Boromir’s hand in his own and massaged the palm with his thumb with slow, gentle circles. It wasn’t long before Faramir could see that his methods were working, Boromir had fallen still beneath his touch, the stubborn line between his brows easing. Yet even after his chest was rising and falling with the regular, even rhythm of sleep, Faramir kept his hands moving over his brother, petting and stroking, his eyes taking in every nuance of Boromir’s unguarded face.
Faramir spent the long, warm afternoon watching Boromir sleep beside him with the sun upon him, knowing that they would spend the night beneath the moon tangled together in love and lust within one another’s arms. He spent the long, warm afternoon smiling, knowing that Boromir truly did understand why he wanted this, though he pretended otherwise.
They had so few moments together that belonged just to them and them alone, and fewer still that were calm and quiet like this. Sacred moments, these were, and though Faramir had seen Boromir in war and in anger, in happiness and lost in desire he rarely had in recent years seen him simply in sleep. Usually when they were together alone, each was so exhausted from having snatched a moment’s passion that they slept at the same time, each man never finding a more untroubled sleep than in the other’s arms. But now, Faramir stroked Boromir’s hair, leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against his temple. For now Faramir had this moment of sweet quietude with his brother and in the coming days, weeks, years, he would have it in memory to bring out as a light against the darkness when Boromir was far from his embrace.
Faramir smiled, and time seemed to slow to a trickle as he lay and simply watched Boromir sleep, as he drank in the sight and smell of him, the feel of him. Faramir spent the long, warm afternoon watching over Boromir’s rest, simply loving him, reveling in this one, sacred moment made of sunlight and warmth, in the bond they shared that was unbending, never ending.
