[ FIC ] - Watched (LotR, Boromir/Faramir)
Jun. 19th, 2003 07:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ashinaeWatched
Pairing: Boromir/Faramir -- yes, that makes this incest
Rating: NC-17. There's incest here, folks.
Warning: [pirate!Ash] Arr! There be incest behind that thar lj-cut! [/pirate!Ash] So if that bothers you, move along.
Summary: HAH! It's just pointless smut.
Notes: my endless thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kirbycrow for her beta effort, but despite her work, I can't seem to make this any better. I'm sorry; I've got nothing else for this. Any errors, things that don't make sense and all that are entirely my fault. And to cruisedirector and zasjah and anybody else who puts up with my ... um ... you know how I am.
Watched
Faramir watched Boromir any chance he could get. Sometimes, on summer days, when Boromir would practice or teach swordplay, he would do so without a tunic on; his bare chest gleamed in the sunlight, and his hair would cling to the back of his neck, and Faramir's heart would pound. He gazed upon his brother with infinite longing, studying every little movement of muscle in his back and his arms, would envy the way Boromir's breeches would cling to his legs, would entertain wicked fantasies about licking away the drop of sweat that made its way down Boromir's spine.
On one such summer day, when Boromir had retired after a laborious afternoon of practice and training, Faramir found his way to Boromir's rooms. He opened the door, stepped inside, and found his brother relaxing in a tub. Faramir looked upon him for a moment--his arms braced along the edges, his head tilted back, his knees sticking up from the water--but then hastily made to flee, when Boromir suddenly called out his name.
"You do not have to go," he said, softly. So Faramir remained rooted in place.
"I missed you this afternoon," Boromir said, opening his eyes and turning his head to look at Faramir.
"I was busy," Faramir replied.
"A pity," Boromir murmured. "Do not be a stranger, Faramir," he added, and waved his brother closer.
Holding his breath, Faramir moved closer, closer, until he knelt at the side of the tub. Boromir smiled fondly. "It would have been pleasing to have you show your skill with a blade. You are the finest example of my accomplishment."
Faramir felt his cheeks grow warm. "You flatter me too much," he said.
Boromir smiled again, and his eyes slid closed. He leaned his head back and let out a soft sigh. "No one seems to learn as you have."
"I suppose I am a quick study," Faramir admitted, as his eyes studied Boromir's chest, closer than he had been to his brother while Boromir was nude in many, many years. He licked his lip.
"I grow weary of their lack of understanding," Boromir said. "These boys think that anyone can pick up a blade or a bow and be adept. They lack finesse, insight--they fight with their hearts, not with their heads. They do not have the skill that our peers do."
Faramir's fingers itched to reach out and touch Boromir's bare, wet chest. He wanted to caress his shoulders, taste his lips...
"Faramir?"
"Yes, Boromir?"
"You have not been listening, have you?" There was a wry grin tugging at the corner of Boromir's mouth, and a surprisingly contented note in his voice. He still had not opened his eyes. The water caressed his skin as he shifted slightly in the tub. Sunlight streaming in from the window cast golden highlights through his hair. One finger was tracing an idle circle on the edge of the tub.
"I listen to every word you say," Faramir said. "Finesse, insight--understanding your opponent, anticipating what he will do. I know your lessons, brother. I know you, and the way you think..."
"Do you?"
Boromir sounded amused. Faramir's cheeks coloured again. "At least, I know the way you think on the battlefield."
"This is not a battlefield, Faramir. I cannot always be fighting a war."
"For that, I am grateful."
"Indeed..."
"Indeed." Faramir licked his lip again, and reached up a tentative hand, resting it on Boromir's arm. Boromir's eyes did not open; in fact, he did not move at all.
The moment stretched on, and Faramir's thumb moved slowly, back and forth, over Boromir's skin.
"Faramir..."
"You must be tired," Faramir said quickly.
"Very."
"I should probably let you have some peace and quiet."
"You should do what you think is best."
Hesitantly, Faramir's hand slid up over Boromir's arm. He raised himself up on his knees, inching closer and closer to the side of the tub. His fingers lightly touched Boromir's chest, and then fell still. The room, too, seemed to fall still, everything hanging upon Faramir's next move. He could not hear Boromir breathing, but his heart was beating, pounding in his chest. His hands had tightened into loose fists, and his lips had parted.
Faramir wanted to taste them.
And his hand slid lower.
When his fingers touched the hair low on Boromir's belly, Boromir's eyes suddenly opened, locking with Faramir's. But he did not say a word, nor did he move. Faramir bit his lip. Green eyes looked at Faramir's mouth, then down at Faramir's hand, and then closed once more. The tip of a tempting pink tongue darted out to wet Boromir's lower lip, and Faramir found himself leaning forward, his own tongue touching the same spot Boromir's had, as his hand slid into the water.
And then Boromir moved, one hand coming up to tangle in Faramir's hair, but he did not push Faramir away nor did he pull him closer. He allowed himself to be kissed, opened his mouth to Faramir's seeking, tasting, searching tongue. He groaned, softly, when Faramir's fingers encircled his cock.
Faramir pulled back after a few moments, and watched Boromir's face in fascination, watched Boromir's expressions as he was stroked under the water. Faramir could hear his own ragged breaths, and Boromir's sweet little moans, and water splashing softly as his fist moved over Boromir's cock. Boromir caught his lower lip between his teeth and sank a little more into the water.
It did not last long; Faramir could have feasted for hours upon the sight that Boromir made, but Boromir seemed to have other plans. His hand suddenly moved, and he grasped Faramir's wrist. "Enough," he said, his voice strained. Faramir was about to protest, but Boromir carefully pulled his hands away, then rose to his feet.
Faramir swallowed as the water poured down Boromir's body. He let his eyes slowly wander over Boromir's belly and hips and legs, and moved back a little as he stepped from the tub. Not enough, though, as water splashed on his clothes, but he did not really mind. Boromir stopped in front of him, and reached down to stroke his fingers through Faramir's hair.
"On your feet," Boromir said, softly, and Faramir quickly complied. Boromir's hands carefully framed his face, and Faramir watched his smile before they kissed. His lips were soft, and tender, but the kisses were full of long-suppressed desire, and Faramir knew that Boromir was holding back.
"I am yours," he said, and slid his hands over Boromir's wet back. "Yours, Boromir."
He pulled back, more than a little reluctantly, and made short work of his own clothing, tossing the garments onto a nearby chair. Boromir pulled him close again, his hands exploring Faramir's body, eliciting little gasps and moans and making Faramir squirm. Soon, Faramir was pleading with him to be touched more intimately, to be taken, anything, anything. Boromir guided him backwards across the room, his hands steady on Faramir's hips, making love to his mouth with lips and tongue, and Faramir's arms wrapped around him as though he was afraid to let go.
Carefully, Boromir guided Faramir to his desk, gently pressing him forward over it. Faramir trembled, his hands grasping the edges. "Boromir," he said, a tone of uncertainty in his voice. Boromir hushed him, pressing kisses all along Faramir's back. When Faramir spoke his name again, the plea was there again, and when Boromir's mouth had reached the small of his back, he demanded that Boromir do something, now.
And Boromir chuckled, dropping to his knees. He nipped at the back of Faramir's thigh, his grasping Faramir's hips. "You're exquisite," he said softly. "My sweet, perfect Faramir... if I touched you right now, would you come for me?"
Faramir gasped, and thrust his hips back. "Please!" he cried, and wondered when Boromir had stolen his control from him. He dropped one hand from the edge of the desk, reaching back and groping blindly for his brother. His fingers grazed the back of Boromir's hand, then fell away with a harsh cry of surprise when he felt the wet press of Boromir's tongue against the entrance to his body.
"You didn't come," Boromir said, teasingly, and flicked out his tongue again.
Faramir cried out.
With a soft laugh, Boromir rose to his feet, and Faramir made a wordless sound of complaint. "Hush now," Boromir said, "I would not abandon you like this." His fingers lightly stroked the back of Faramir's shoulder, and across his jaw, then pressed against his lips. Boromir's voice was thick with desire when he spoke again, and he leaned across Faramir's back, whispering in his ear. "Make them wet, Faramir."
Eagerly, Faramir's tongue came out and caressed Boromir's fingers. He licked and sucked them all, his eyes sliding closed. He would have continued on to Boromir's palm, to the inside of his wrist to feel the pulse beneath his tongue; he would have trailed kisses up the inside of Boromir's arm and kept going, wherever his mouth took him. But Boromir had other plans.
The fingers were withdrawn, and soon were pressing there, where Boromir's tongue had been, and Faramir moaned, loudly, thrusting his hips back. "Eager," Boromir purred.
Boromir's fingertip teased Faramir's hole. Faramir liked this. Boromir's free hand gently stroked the small of Faramir's back as he began to push his finger inside. Faramir moaned loudly as he put one of his knuckles between his teeth. Boromir whispered little words and phrases to him, continuing to rub his back, to give him an anchor. Eventually his finger slid inside, and he trust it gently as he could inside Faramir. It hurt, but Faramir bit down on his own finger to keep from making too much noise. His breath caught in his throat as another finger was pushed past the tight ring of muscle, but Boromir held him still. He could feel Boromir thrusting against his hip, could feel moisture--"Do it," he gasped.
Boromir stopped.
"Please," Faramir whispered, "please, Boromir. You want to, please."
"But..."
"Please!" He heard Boromir groan, and then Boromir was behind him, rubbing against him, and soon, slowly, slowly, pushing inside. Faramir's free hand clenched into a fist and he squeezed his eyes shut, gasping for breath, and thought for a wild, frantic moment about running away. But he held himself perfectly still, letting Boromir sink inside, listening to Boromir's ragged breaths. Boromir's fingers were tight upon his hips, and he wondered if he would be bruised.
The thought fled his mind as Boromir began to move inside him. Certainly, bruising didn't matter in the face of this. "Boromir!" The word came out as merely a gasp; he could not breathe, could not find something on the desk to grab on to. When Boromir's hand reached down to find his cock, now soft again, Faramir grasped Boromir's wrist and held on for dear life.
Leaning forward, Boromir whispered into his ear. "Faramir. My sweet, lovely Faramir. Hush... let me touch you, please." Faramir's grip relaxed, and his hand fell away. Boromir continued to speak to him, to murmur soothingly into his ear. He let out a sigh and tried to relax, closed his eyes, rocked with the thrust of Boromir's hips.
Then Boromir's fingers tangled in his hair, and Boromir cried out, going still behind him. Faramir bit his lip, held his breath, waited until Boromir pulled away. Suddenly Boromir's touch was tentative, infinitely tender, as his fingers caressed Faramir's back.
"Faramir..."
Faramir straightened, but did not meet Boromir's gaze. Boromir reached for him, but he side-stepped, moving quickly to retrieve his scattered clothing.
"Faramir."
"I have a... I shall be late," Faramir said, speaking softly.
"Stay. Please?"
Faramir stopped, darting a glance in Boromir's direction. Boromir approached, more than a little cautiously, his fingertips now trailing along Faramir's shoulder. "I am sorry," he said. "I did not wish for it... to be like that."
"It--is fine."
With a soft sigh, Boromir gathered Faramir close, kissing his forehead, his lips; stroking his cheek and back. "It is not 'fine'," Boromir said firmly, "because you took no pleasure in it."
"I did!" Faramir protested, and tried to squirm away. Boromir's arm tightened around his back.
"Liar," Boromir said, his voice full of affection. And his hand, lingering on Faramir's cheek, moved lower. Fingers that were callused and weathered by time and swordplay were feather-light as they traced the line of his neck and shoulder, and a battle-hardened hand was soft as the open palm slid over his arm.
"Boromir--"
"Hush." He nuzzled Faramir's neck and the younger man could not stop the moan that rose in his throat. The maddening hand slipped upwards again, and soon Boromir's fingers were mercilessly teasing Faramir's nipples. "Do you not desire me?" Boromir asked.
"Yes. Yes." Faramir's head fell back, and he squirmed in Boromir's embrace, arching towards the hand that was working its way down his body. He gasped when Boromir's fingers touched him.
"That's it," Boromir murmured against his throat. Faramir shuddered and reached up to grasp Boromir's shoulder. The fingers began to stroke, to torment and to pull the most exquisite sensations from him. He wanted to cry out, but could not find his voice. Boromir spoke heatedly into his ear. "Sweet Faramir. Let go. I would not let you fall. I will catch you." Faramir stared into his brother's face. Boromir's eyes were wild, and his lips parted, his breath as quick and desperate as Faramir's own. Faramir took Boromir's mouth in a desperate kiss, his free hand coming up to tangle in Boromir's hair, as he felt himself being pushed closer and closer to the edge. "Let go," Boromir urged when their lips parted, and all Faramir could do was let out a small, choked moan as he spilled over Boromir's hand.
Then he watched, wide-eyed, as, with a wicked grin, Boromir raised his hand to his mouth and licked it clean.
Faramir cursed.
"Naughty," Boromir admonished, and pulled him close to kiss him again.
Pairing: Boromir/Faramir -- yes, that makes this incest
Rating: NC-17. There's incest here, folks.
Warning: [pirate!Ash] Arr! There be incest behind that thar lj-cut! [/pirate!Ash] So if that bothers you, move along.
Summary: HAH! It's just pointless smut.
Notes: my endless thanks to
kirbycrow for her beta effort, but despite her work, I can't seem to make this any better. I'm sorry; I've got nothing else for this. Any errors, things that don't make sense and all that are entirely my fault. And to cruisedirector and zasjah and anybody else who puts up with my ... um ... you know how I am.Faramir watched Boromir any chance he could get. Sometimes, on summer days, when Boromir would practice or teach swordplay, he would do so without a tunic on; his bare chest gleamed in the sunlight, and his hair would cling to the back of his neck, and Faramir's heart would pound. He gazed upon his brother with infinite longing, studying every little movement of muscle in his back and his arms, would envy the way Boromir's breeches would cling to his legs, would entertain wicked fantasies about licking away the drop of sweat that made its way down Boromir's spine.
On one such summer day, when Boromir had retired after a laborious afternoon of practice and training, Faramir found his way to Boromir's rooms. He opened the door, stepped inside, and found his brother relaxing in a tub. Faramir looked upon him for a moment--his arms braced along the edges, his head tilted back, his knees sticking up from the water--but then hastily made to flee, when Boromir suddenly called out his name.
"You do not have to go," he said, softly. So Faramir remained rooted in place.
"I missed you this afternoon," Boromir said, opening his eyes and turning his head to look at Faramir.
"I was busy," Faramir replied.
"A pity," Boromir murmured. "Do not be a stranger, Faramir," he added, and waved his brother closer.
Holding his breath, Faramir moved closer, closer, until he knelt at the side of the tub. Boromir smiled fondly. "It would have been pleasing to have you show your skill with a blade. You are the finest example of my accomplishment."
Faramir felt his cheeks grow warm. "You flatter me too much," he said.
Boromir smiled again, and his eyes slid closed. He leaned his head back and let out a soft sigh. "No one seems to learn as you have."
"I suppose I am a quick study," Faramir admitted, as his eyes studied Boromir's chest, closer than he had been to his brother while Boromir was nude in many, many years. He licked his lip.
"I grow weary of their lack of understanding," Boromir said. "These boys think that anyone can pick up a blade or a bow and be adept. They lack finesse, insight--they fight with their hearts, not with their heads. They do not have the skill that our peers do."
Faramir's fingers itched to reach out and touch Boromir's bare, wet chest. He wanted to caress his shoulders, taste his lips...
"Faramir?"
"Yes, Boromir?"
"You have not been listening, have you?" There was a wry grin tugging at the corner of Boromir's mouth, and a surprisingly contented note in his voice. He still had not opened his eyes. The water caressed his skin as he shifted slightly in the tub. Sunlight streaming in from the window cast golden highlights through his hair. One finger was tracing an idle circle on the edge of the tub.
"I listen to every word you say," Faramir said. "Finesse, insight--understanding your opponent, anticipating what he will do. I know your lessons, brother. I know you, and the way you think..."
"Do you?"
Boromir sounded amused. Faramir's cheeks coloured again. "At least, I know the way you think on the battlefield."
"This is not a battlefield, Faramir. I cannot always be fighting a war."
"For that, I am grateful."
"Indeed..."
"Indeed." Faramir licked his lip again, and reached up a tentative hand, resting it on Boromir's arm. Boromir's eyes did not open; in fact, he did not move at all.
The moment stretched on, and Faramir's thumb moved slowly, back and forth, over Boromir's skin.
"Faramir..."
"You must be tired," Faramir said quickly.
"Very."
"I should probably let you have some peace and quiet."
"You should do what you think is best."
Hesitantly, Faramir's hand slid up over Boromir's arm. He raised himself up on his knees, inching closer and closer to the side of the tub. His fingers lightly touched Boromir's chest, and then fell still. The room, too, seemed to fall still, everything hanging upon Faramir's next move. He could not hear Boromir breathing, but his heart was beating, pounding in his chest. His hands had tightened into loose fists, and his lips had parted.
Faramir wanted to taste them.
And his hand slid lower.
When his fingers touched the hair low on Boromir's belly, Boromir's eyes suddenly opened, locking with Faramir's. But he did not say a word, nor did he move. Faramir bit his lip. Green eyes looked at Faramir's mouth, then down at Faramir's hand, and then closed once more. The tip of a tempting pink tongue darted out to wet Boromir's lower lip, and Faramir found himself leaning forward, his own tongue touching the same spot Boromir's had, as his hand slid into the water.
And then Boromir moved, one hand coming up to tangle in Faramir's hair, but he did not push Faramir away nor did he pull him closer. He allowed himself to be kissed, opened his mouth to Faramir's seeking, tasting, searching tongue. He groaned, softly, when Faramir's fingers encircled his cock.
Faramir pulled back after a few moments, and watched Boromir's face in fascination, watched Boromir's expressions as he was stroked under the water. Faramir could hear his own ragged breaths, and Boromir's sweet little moans, and water splashing softly as his fist moved over Boromir's cock. Boromir caught his lower lip between his teeth and sank a little more into the water.
It did not last long; Faramir could have feasted for hours upon the sight that Boromir made, but Boromir seemed to have other plans. His hand suddenly moved, and he grasped Faramir's wrist. "Enough," he said, his voice strained. Faramir was about to protest, but Boromir carefully pulled his hands away, then rose to his feet.
Faramir swallowed as the water poured down Boromir's body. He let his eyes slowly wander over Boromir's belly and hips and legs, and moved back a little as he stepped from the tub. Not enough, though, as water splashed on his clothes, but he did not really mind. Boromir stopped in front of him, and reached down to stroke his fingers through Faramir's hair.
"On your feet," Boromir said, softly, and Faramir quickly complied. Boromir's hands carefully framed his face, and Faramir watched his smile before they kissed. His lips were soft, and tender, but the kisses were full of long-suppressed desire, and Faramir knew that Boromir was holding back.
"I am yours," he said, and slid his hands over Boromir's wet back. "Yours, Boromir."
He pulled back, more than a little reluctantly, and made short work of his own clothing, tossing the garments onto a nearby chair. Boromir pulled him close again, his hands exploring Faramir's body, eliciting little gasps and moans and making Faramir squirm. Soon, Faramir was pleading with him to be touched more intimately, to be taken, anything, anything. Boromir guided him backwards across the room, his hands steady on Faramir's hips, making love to his mouth with lips and tongue, and Faramir's arms wrapped around him as though he was afraid to let go.
Carefully, Boromir guided Faramir to his desk, gently pressing him forward over it. Faramir trembled, his hands grasping the edges. "Boromir," he said, a tone of uncertainty in his voice. Boromir hushed him, pressing kisses all along Faramir's back. When Faramir spoke his name again, the plea was there again, and when Boromir's mouth had reached the small of his back, he demanded that Boromir do something, now.
And Boromir chuckled, dropping to his knees. He nipped at the back of Faramir's thigh, his grasping Faramir's hips. "You're exquisite," he said softly. "My sweet, perfect Faramir... if I touched you right now, would you come for me?"
Faramir gasped, and thrust his hips back. "Please!" he cried, and wondered when Boromir had stolen his control from him. He dropped one hand from the edge of the desk, reaching back and groping blindly for his brother. His fingers grazed the back of Boromir's hand, then fell away with a harsh cry of surprise when he felt the wet press of Boromir's tongue against the entrance to his body.
"You didn't come," Boromir said, teasingly, and flicked out his tongue again.
Faramir cried out.
With a soft laugh, Boromir rose to his feet, and Faramir made a wordless sound of complaint. "Hush now," Boromir said, "I would not abandon you like this." His fingers lightly stroked the back of Faramir's shoulder, and across his jaw, then pressed against his lips. Boromir's voice was thick with desire when he spoke again, and he leaned across Faramir's back, whispering in his ear. "Make them wet, Faramir."
Eagerly, Faramir's tongue came out and caressed Boromir's fingers. He licked and sucked them all, his eyes sliding closed. He would have continued on to Boromir's palm, to the inside of his wrist to feel the pulse beneath his tongue; he would have trailed kisses up the inside of Boromir's arm and kept going, wherever his mouth took him. But Boromir had other plans.
The fingers were withdrawn, and soon were pressing there, where Boromir's tongue had been, and Faramir moaned, loudly, thrusting his hips back. "Eager," Boromir purred.
Boromir's fingertip teased Faramir's hole. Faramir liked this. Boromir's free hand gently stroked the small of Faramir's back as he began to push his finger inside. Faramir moaned loudly as he put one of his knuckles between his teeth. Boromir whispered little words and phrases to him, continuing to rub his back, to give him an anchor. Eventually his finger slid inside, and he trust it gently as he could inside Faramir. It hurt, but Faramir bit down on his own finger to keep from making too much noise. His breath caught in his throat as another finger was pushed past the tight ring of muscle, but Boromir held him still. He could feel Boromir thrusting against his hip, could feel moisture--"Do it," he gasped.
Boromir stopped.
"Please," Faramir whispered, "please, Boromir. You want to, please."
"But..."
"Please!" He heard Boromir groan, and then Boromir was behind him, rubbing against him, and soon, slowly, slowly, pushing inside. Faramir's free hand clenched into a fist and he squeezed his eyes shut, gasping for breath, and thought for a wild, frantic moment about running away. But he held himself perfectly still, letting Boromir sink inside, listening to Boromir's ragged breaths. Boromir's fingers were tight upon his hips, and he wondered if he would be bruised.
The thought fled his mind as Boromir began to move inside him. Certainly, bruising didn't matter in the face of this. "Boromir!" The word came out as merely a gasp; he could not breathe, could not find something on the desk to grab on to. When Boromir's hand reached down to find his cock, now soft again, Faramir grasped Boromir's wrist and held on for dear life.
Leaning forward, Boromir whispered into his ear. "Faramir. My sweet, lovely Faramir. Hush... let me touch you, please." Faramir's grip relaxed, and his hand fell away. Boromir continued to speak to him, to murmur soothingly into his ear. He let out a sigh and tried to relax, closed his eyes, rocked with the thrust of Boromir's hips.
Then Boromir's fingers tangled in his hair, and Boromir cried out, going still behind him. Faramir bit his lip, held his breath, waited until Boromir pulled away. Suddenly Boromir's touch was tentative, infinitely tender, as his fingers caressed Faramir's back.
"Faramir..."
Faramir straightened, but did not meet Boromir's gaze. Boromir reached for him, but he side-stepped, moving quickly to retrieve his scattered clothing.
"Faramir."
"I have a... I shall be late," Faramir said, speaking softly.
"Stay. Please?"
Faramir stopped, darting a glance in Boromir's direction. Boromir approached, more than a little cautiously, his fingertips now trailing along Faramir's shoulder. "I am sorry," he said. "I did not wish for it... to be like that."
"It--is fine."
With a soft sigh, Boromir gathered Faramir close, kissing his forehead, his lips; stroking his cheek and back. "It is not 'fine'," Boromir said firmly, "because you took no pleasure in it."
"I did!" Faramir protested, and tried to squirm away. Boromir's arm tightened around his back.
"Liar," Boromir said, his voice full of affection. And his hand, lingering on Faramir's cheek, moved lower. Fingers that were callused and weathered by time and swordplay were feather-light as they traced the line of his neck and shoulder, and a battle-hardened hand was soft as the open palm slid over his arm.
"Boromir--"
"Hush." He nuzzled Faramir's neck and the younger man could not stop the moan that rose in his throat. The maddening hand slipped upwards again, and soon Boromir's fingers were mercilessly teasing Faramir's nipples. "Do you not desire me?" Boromir asked.
"Yes. Yes." Faramir's head fell back, and he squirmed in Boromir's embrace, arching towards the hand that was working its way down his body. He gasped when Boromir's fingers touched him.
"That's it," Boromir murmured against his throat. Faramir shuddered and reached up to grasp Boromir's shoulder. The fingers began to stroke, to torment and to pull the most exquisite sensations from him. He wanted to cry out, but could not find his voice. Boromir spoke heatedly into his ear. "Sweet Faramir. Let go. I would not let you fall. I will catch you." Faramir stared into his brother's face. Boromir's eyes were wild, and his lips parted, his breath as quick and desperate as Faramir's own. Faramir took Boromir's mouth in a desperate kiss, his free hand coming up to tangle in Boromir's hair, as he felt himself being pushed closer and closer to the edge. "Let go," Boromir urged when their lips parted, and all Faramir could do was let out a small, choked moan as he spilled over Boromir's hand.
Then he watched, wide-eyed, as, with a wicked grin, Boromir raised his hand to his mouth and licked it clean.
Faramir cursed.
"Naughty," Boromir admonished, and pulled him close to kiss him again.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-06-19 04:50 pm (UTC)//basks in brotherly love
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Date: 2003-06-19 04:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-06-19 09:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-06-19 09:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-06-20 02:58 am (UTC)ajkflsd! *regroups*
I mean: you can write these two like no one else. Sweet and hot and naughty, so deliciously naughty! *happy sigh* I love you. :)
*reads again*
no subject
Date: 2003-06-20 09:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-06-20 06:25 am (UTC)*whips out poor underused BoroFara icon*
no subject
Date: 2003-06-20 09:35 am (UTC)Thank you for your comment, Victoria! I feel all warm and happy now. There's nothing wrong with having standards for what you want to see in same-gen incest. I mean, I have standards for what I'd like to read in other people's FaraBoro. Similar thing, yes? Yes. *nods*
no subject
Date: 2003-06-20 11:20 pm (UTC)Thank you! A bit of B/F is always a good thing.
no subject
Date: 2003-06-26 10:34 am (UTC)Anyway, thank you so much! I'm glad you liked it :)
no subject
Date: 2003-06-28 02:33 am (UTC)*G* No worries.