![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
FIC: Solace (LotR, Aragorn/Boromir, NC-17)
Solace
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ashinae
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir
Summary: Aragorn and Boromir find solace with each other in the darkness of Moria.
Disclaimer: So not even close to being mine.
Solace
The rocks were cold against his back, even through the few layers of clothing he wore. They felt damp under his hands as he clawed at them, looking for something to hold on to, until finally he pushed them forward, clutching at leather and silk. The shoulders beneath the fabric seemed, somehow, to be more solid than the rock behind him; far more tangible, as the muscle there shifted and hands rose up to grasp his hips. The hands were callused, and hotter than they had right to be as they steadied him. He murmured only encouragement.
Hot, too, was Boromir's mouth. Hot, wet, slick torment of teasing caresses and small, fleeting promises of fulfilment. Yet Aragorn still murmured encouragement, thankful for Boromir's teasing. Had he had his way, he would have found his relief the first time he felt that delightful mouth--but as the moments stretched on, as that mouth drove him through the blissful agony of pleasure, he was unwilling to let this end before he was truly ready.
He opened his eyes to the darkness, tilted his head back, and breathed out a soft moan. One hand lifted from Boromir's shoulder, his fingertips grazed over soft beard, and a concave cheek, and found purchase in dark blond hair. He could see none of this; could only form the image in his mind, of the Steward's son on his knees before him, pleasuring him with lips and tongue and hot, hot mouth.
"Boromir." The word was a caress, a benediction, and a honeyed promise that fell off his tongue. "Boromir." It was a lightly growled curse and a vow of the sweetest sort of retribution if he could not find his fulfilment soon. "Boromir!" It was a gasp of pleasure, prelude to his completion as his fingers tightened in Boromir's hair and clenched Boromir's shoulder, and his hips bucked forward of their own accord. The word was a warning of his loss of control and of the painful grip he held on Boromir now, but as Aragorn's gentleness gave way to something more primal for just a few moments, Boromir never shyed away or uttered a sound of protest.
Tender words spilled from Aragorn's lips even as he dropped to his own knees, pulling Boromir against him with hands that touched all they could, smoothing back mussed hair, stroking away any hurts he may have caused while also working to further enflame Boromir's desires.
Heated kisses trailed across his jaw, down and then up again on the exposed flesh of his neck. Finally, Aragorn's hands framed his face and he was kissed with infinite tenderness, a stark contrast to the touches of mere moments ago.
Aragorn's lips and tongue made love to his mouth, so sweetly and tenderly that even a heart such as his was filled near to bursting with poetry and song that he was certain the greatest bards would envy. But the words that filled him stuck in his throat; all he could do was grasp Aragorn to him and pray that he would be kissed like this until the stars themselves burned out.
He did not know when his clothing had been worked open. He could not even feel the cold for Aragorn's presence alone was near to burning him. He only knew that his flesh was suddenly beneath roaming fingertips, was being explored as though this was the first time they had shared each other's company, was being teased and tormented until he was reduced to gasps and moans and breathless pleas for a far more intimate caress.
As Boromir's pleading voice grew ever louder, Aragorn's mouth once more closed over his, drowning his words and offering him some distraction from the maddening hands that nearly drove him wild.
Boromir was never still, his hands always seeking, stroking, and Aragorn wondered if his companion was even aware of this. Even in his current state, Boromir's touch was never awkward or over-demanding, yet certainly conscious enough that they threatened to ignite Aragorn's passion anew.
A moan rose unbidden, and was surrendered into Boromir's mouth, as his fingers closed around the heat that demanded his attention. Boromir himself was silent for several heartbeats before he groaned, resting his forehead against Aragorn's shoulder.
He would have given Boromir all upon hearing that wordless sound of longing; would have offered up everything he had, but Boromir would not allow him to move away. Boromir's teeth scraped roughly over his chin. A gasp was torn from him, his fingers tightened, and Boromir cursed in response before recapturing his mouth for a few long moments. They gasped each other's breath, each with the fingers of one hand tangling in the other man's hair, holding him still as their mouths now moved roughly in hard and demanding kisses.
"Aragorn." He could barely keep up with the rapid pace of Boromir's desperate passion. He took a ragged breath of air as his name was spoken in a voice that was thick with desire. "Aragorn." He sought for Boromir's eyes in the dark, longed to see the desire reflected there, where he already knew he could be held captive in moments like these. He cursed the darkness for keeping Boromir obscured from him and envied it the way it could cover the body that he craved.
"Aragorn!" Boromir's head fell back, exposing his throat to Aragorn's questing mouth. He gasped, and gave a soft, short moan as he always did, and spilled over Aragorn's hand. It was a few moments before he felt Boromir's breath on his cheek again, and lips grazed over his ear, but Boromir did not speak. He raised his hand to stroke Aragorn's cheek, and kissed him again before finally speaking only his name once more, wrapping up a thousand unspoken things into the single word. Aragorn returned the gesture, as all the thousand things he yearned to whisper into Boromir's ear only stuck in his throat.
Author:
ashinaeFandom: Lord of the Rings
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir
Summary: Aragorn and Boromir find solace with each other in the darkness of Moria.
Disclaimer: So not even close to being mine.
The rocks were cold against his back, even through the few layers of clothing he wore. They felt damp under his hands as he clawed at them, looking for something to hold on to, until finally he pushed them forward, clutching at leather and silk. The shoulders beneath the fabric seemed, somehow, to be more solid than the rock behind him; far more tangible, as the muscle there shifted and hands rose up to grasp his hips. The hands were callused, and hotter than they had right to be as they steadied him. He murmured only encouragement.
Hot, too, was Boromir's mouth. Hot, wet, slick torment of teasing caresses and small, fleeting promises of fulfilment. Yet Aragorn still murmured encouragement, thankful for Boromir's teasing. Had he had his way, he would have found his relief the first time he felt that delightful mouth--but as the moments stretched on, as that mouth drove him through the blissful agony of pleasure, he was unwilling to let this end before he was truly ready.
He opened his eyes to the darkness, tilted his head back, and breathed out a soft moan. One hand lifted from Boromir's shoulder, his fingertips grazed over soft beard, and a concave cheek, and found purchase in dark blond hair. He could see none of this; could only form the image in his mind, of the Steward's son on his knees before him, pleasuring him with lips and tongue and hot, hot mouth.
"Boromir." The word was a caress, a benediction, and a honeyed promise that fell off his tongue. "Boromir." It was a lightly growled curse and a vow of the sweetest sort of retribution if he could not find his fulfilment soon. "Boromir!" It was a gasp of pleasure, prelude to his completion as his fingers tightened in Boromir's hair and clenched Boromir's shoulder, and his hips bucked forward of their own accord. The word was a warning of his loss of control and of the painful grip he held on Boromir now, but as Aragorn's gentleness gave way to something more primal for just a few moments, Boromir never shyed away or uttered a sound of protest.
Tender words spilled from Aragorn's lips even as he dropped to his own knees, pulling Boromir against him with hands that touched all they could, smoothing back mussed hair, stroking away any hurts he may have caused while also working to further enflame Boromir's desires.
Heated kisses trailed across his jaw, down and then up again on the exposed flesh of his neck. Finally, Aragorn's hands framed his face and he was kissed with infinite tenderness, a stark contrast to the touches of mere moments ago.
Aragorn's lips and tongue made love to his mouth, so sweetly and tenderly that even a heart such as his was filled near to bursting with poetry and song that he was certain the greatest bards would envy. But the words that filled him stuck in his throat; all he could do was grasp Aragorn to him and pray that he would be kissed like this until the stars themselves burned out.
He did not know when his clothing had been worked open. He could not even feel the cold for Aragorn's presence alone was near to burning him. He only knew that his flesh was suddenly beneath roaming fingertips, was being explored as though this was the first time they had shared each other's company, was being teased and tormented until he was reduced to gasps and moans and breathless pleas for a far more intimate caress.
As Boromir's pleading voice grew ever louder, Aragorn's mouth once more closed over his, drowning his words and offering him some distraction from the maddening hands that nearly drove him wild.
Boromir was never still, his hands always seeking, stroking, and Aragorn wondered if his companion was even aware of this. Even in his current state, Boromir's touch was never awkward or over-demanding, yet certainly conscious enough that they threatened to ignite Aragorn's passion anew.
A moan rose unbidden, and was surrendered into Boromir's mouth, as his fingers closed around the heat that demanded his attention. Boromir himself was silent for several heartbeats before he groaned, resting his forehead against Aragorn's shoulder.
He would have given Boromir all upon hearing that wordless sound of longing; would have offered up everything he had, but Boromir would not allow him to move away. Boromir's teeth scraped roughly over his chin. A gasp was torn from him, his fingers tightened, and Boromir cursed in response before recapturing his mouth for a few long moments. They gasped each other's breath, each with the fingers of one hand tangling in the other man's hair, holding him still as their mouths now moved roughly in hard and demanding kisses.
"Aragorn." He could barely keep up with the rapid pace of Boromir's desperate passion. He took a ragged breath of air as his name was spoken in a voice that was thick with desire. "Aragorn." He sought for Boromir's eyes in the dark, longed to see the desire reflected there, where he already knew he could be held captive in moments like these. He cursed the darkness for keeping Boromir obscured from him and envied it the way it could cover the body that he craved.
"Aragorn!" Boromir's head fell back, exposing his throat to Aragorn's questing mouth. He gasped, and gave a soft, short moan as he always did, and spilled over Aragorn's hand. It was a few moments before he felt Boromir's breath on his cheek again, and lips grazed over his ear, but Boromir did not speak. He raised his hand to stroke Aragorn's cheek, and kissed him again before finally speaking only his name once more, wrapping up a thousand unspoken things into the single word. Aragorn returned the gesture, as all the thousand things he yearned to whisper into Boromir's ear only stuck in his throat.