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ashinaeMarked
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ashinae
Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir
Kink: Well, there's no blood, no non-con, no crossdressing, and no Mary Sue.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: They are so not mine. This would make Tolkien faint. He doesn't even WANT it.
Summary: Boromir fulfills Aragorn's need...
Notes: Blamecruisedirector & cinzia.
Be aware that any "EWW!" and "WHY!?" comments will be deleted, so don't bother. Thanks.
Marked
His shirt is tangled around his arms, trapping them behind his back. The rest of his clothing is in a rumpled pile with his boots and his sword and Boromir's clothes. He sits back on his heels with Boromir kneeling above him, kissing him with a desperate passion.
Boromir's hands tremble when they run fingers through Aragorn's hair. His hands hold Aragorn very still; if not for these hands, Aragorn would have been shaking, too. But he is grounded, for now, thanks to this touch.
They gasp in each other's breath when Boromir pulls back. "Say it again," he whispers. "I need you to just say it one more time, or I doubt I will be able to do it."
Aragorn nuzzles Boromir's cheek, his lips brush over Boromir's ear and he whispers, "Please, Boromir."
Now shaking all over, Boromir rises. He stands over Aragorn, and his eyes look hooded and his hair darker. He looks beautiful, powerful, nervous--never has Aragorn seen uncertainty on this proud face. When Boromir wraps his fingers around his cock, Aragorn shudders, though the other man is not hard, as he is. He aches. Boromir trembles.
"Please," Aragorn says again. His head falls back and he hears Boromir curse. "Please. Please."
The first splash hits him right above his right hip bone. They both gasp. Boromir curses again. "Where?" he says, his voice a gust of breath.
"What?" He can no longer think, only smell, only feel the sweet liquid heat on his skin. His flesh is cold, and he burns.
"Where do you want it? I don't think... I cannot... Aragorn." His voice is tight, thick, with anxiety or with lust, Aragorn does not know. He does not dare open his eyes, for he fears that whatever made Boromir do this for him, would be lost.
"Don't think," Aragorn pleads, his head falling back. He sucks in a breath of the crisp night air, and he feels the heat and wet again, and there is the acrid smell of the other man's offering. There are dry, crackling leaves under his knees and a twig that snaps as Boromir shifts his weight.
Then, for too short a time, there is nothing but the warm wet feel the way it splashes on his belly trickles down his thighs and he rises higher, arches forward, needing it. Wanting everything but too scared to open his eyes, to watch as Boromir does this for him, to him, marking him in a most primal animalistic way. Boromir is speaking, words that Aragorn can hear but does not understand because all he has is this. And he burns.
He can finally make out Boromir's words, as Boromir suddenly drops to his knees again.
"Please." His own voice sounds desperate to his ears, shameful, shameless. Like this.
"Aragorn. I--it's done." Boromir sounds helpless.
Aragorn's head falls forward, and his forehead rests on Boromir's shoulder as he gasps for breath. Wordlessly, Boromir reaches for him, wrapping his fingers around Aragorn's cock and he strokes him, not tenderly, only a few times before Aragorn shudders and releases, spilling over Boromir's hand, biting down hard on Boromir's shoulder so that he does not cry out.
He leaves behind teeth-marks.
"Is that what you wanted?"
There is apprehension in Boromir's eyes, bright spots of colour--embarrassment and shame--on his cheeks. He is breathtaking, and Aragorn kisses him.
"You were perfect. Perfection, my dear Boromir."
And once more, Boromir curses, and he gathers Aragorn into his arms. Slowly, Aragorn smiles against the other man's neck.
Author:
ashinaePairing: Aragorn/Boromir
Kink: Well, there's no blood, no non-con, no crossdressing, and no Mary Sue.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: They are so not mine. This would make Tolkien faint. He doesn't even WANT it.
Summary: Boromir fulfills Aragorn's need...
Notes: Blame
cruisedirector & cinzia.Be aware that any "EWW!" and "WHY!?" comments will be deleted, so don't bother. Thanks.
His shirt is tangled around his arms, trapping them behind his back. The rest of his clothing is in a rumpled pile with his boots and his sword and Boromir's clothes. He sits back on his heels with Boromir kneeling above him, kissing him with a desperate passion.
Boromir's hands tremble when they run fingers through Aragorn's hair. His hands hold Aragorn very still; if not for these hands, Aragorn would have been shaking, too. But he is grounded, for now, thanks to this touch.
They gasp in each other's breath when Boromir pulls back. "Say it again," he whispers. "I need you to just say it one more time, or I doubt I will be able to do it."
Aragorn nuzzles Boromir's cheek, his lips brush over Boromir's ear and he whispers, "Please, Boromir."
Now shaking all over, Boromir rises. He stands over Aragorn, and his eyes look hooded and his hair darker. He looks beautiful, powerful, nervous--never has Aragorn seen uncertainty on this proud face. When Boromir wraps his fingers around his cock, Aragorn shudders, though the other man is not hard, as he is. He aches. Boromir trembles.
"Please," Aragorn says again. His head falls back and he hears Boromir curse. "Please. Please."
The first splash hits him right above his right hip bone. They both gasp. Boromir curses again. "Where?" he says, his voice a gust of breath.
"What?" He can no longer think, only smell, only feel the sweet liquid heat on his skin. His flesh is cold, and he burns.
"Where do you want it? I don't think... I cannot... Aragorn." His voice is tight, thick, with anxiety or with lust, Aragorn does not know. He does not dare open his eyes, for he fears that whatever made Boromir do this for him, would be lost.
"Don't think," Aragorn pleads, his head falling back. He sucks in a breath of the crisp night air, and he feels the heat and wet again, and there is the acrid smell of the other man's offering. There are dry, crackling leaves under his knees and a twig that snaps as Boromir shifts his weight.
Then, for too short a time, there is nothing but the warm wet feel the way it splashes on his belly trickles down his thighs and he rises higher, arches forward, needing it. Wanting everything but too scared to open his eyes, to watch as Boromir does this for him, to him, marking him in a most primal animalistic way. Boromir is speaking, words that Aragorn can hear but does not understand because all he has is this. And he burns.
He can finally make out Boromir's words, as Boromir suddenly drops to his knees again.
"Please." His own voice sounds desperate to his ears, shameful, shameless. Like this.
"Aragorn. I--it's done." Boromir sounds helpless.
Aragorn's head falls forward, and his forehead rests on Boromir's shoulder as he gasps for breath. Wordlessly, Boromir reaches for him, wrapping his fingers around Aragorn's cock and he strokes him, not tenderly, only a few times before Aragorn shudders and releases, spilling over Boromir's hand, biting down hard on Boromir's shoulder so that he does not cry out.
He leaves behind teeth-marks.
"Is that what you wanted?"
There is apprehension in Boromir's eyes, bright spots of colour--embarrassment and shame--on his cheeks. He is breathtaking, and Aragorn kisses him.
"You were perfect. Perfection, my dear Boromir."
And once more, Boromir curses, and he gathers Aragorn into his arms. Slowly, Aragorn smiles against the other man's neck.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Re:
Date: 2003-02-22 07:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-02-22 05:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-02-22 05:51 pm (UTC)You very bad.
I
wantadore you.no subject
Date: 2003-02-22 05:50 pm (UTC)"Ohhhh," she said. "I gotcha."
*feels very ... naughty*
Re:
Date: 2003-02-23 12:59 pm (UTC)As do I, after a peek at that icon of yours. (response: "Hell yes I would!")