Title & Chapter Number: Everholt 10-11/?
Author(s): - Author's Index
Website: Dalo's Archive
Fandom: Middle Earth
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Characters not mine. I'm just a guy who loves guys loving guys, filling in some gaps, with all due respect to Tolkien.
Warnings: Slash (duh), Angst. Homosexual relationships and acts. Nothing kinky, but definitely down and dirty at times (we're talkin' NC-17, folks). You gotta problem wit dat? Here's a tip: DON'T READ IT!!!
Betas: Elfscribe (Luv ya!)
Cast: Boromir/Théodred
Timeline: Third Age
Spoilers: None
Summary: Radagast takes it upon himself to heal Boromir's broken heart by encouraging the Gondorian to take a trip down memory lane.
Notes: This fic is part of the same story arc which began with "The Hand of the King," my first fic, and will continue with "The Heart of the King."
Chapter 10 – Everholt, July, 3005, TA
"My pardon, Gondor, but I must lie down," you said.
"Are you not well?" I asked.
"I'm fine, I'm fine. It's just . . . the wine has gone to my head and I'm feeling . . . not well."
I stifled a laugh at your expense. You were pathetically adorable, but I did not wish to offend.
"Is there naught I may do to aid you?" I offered.
You shook your head, then stopped yourself, turning a pale shade of green. You covered your mouth with your hand, and made a dash for the trees. Moments after you disappeared into the dark, I heard the sound of drunken retching. Something with which I was very familiar.
I rose and moved to your pack, retrieving your bedroll and unrolling it under the same overstretched tree branch as the previous year. You returned and staggered back to the table. I unhooked my water skin from its branch and brought it to you as you sat at the table.
"Here, drink some water. It will help."
You accepted the skin and took several long draughts from it before handing it back to me.
"My thanks, Gondor. I must have had more wine than I thought. Why are you not affected?"
"After last year, I decided to pace myself," I answered.
"A wise man."
"Why don't you lie down," I suggested.
"An excellent idea," you said. You slowly rose to your feet and shuffled to your bedroll, apparently not registering its magical appearance.
"We can continue our discussion in the morning," I said.
"Thank you, Gondor," you replied as you dropped onto your bed.
"Goodnight, Rohan."
You mumbled an unintelligible response and I smiled. You were going to feel wretched when you woke up, of that I had no doubt. In no time at all you were snoring loudly enough to wake the dead.
After collecting the dishes and washing them in the stream, I returned to find that you had turned onto your back and were spread out like a second sumptuous feast. You moaned and ran your hand over your stomach. I wondered what filled your dreams.
I walked to the table and poured the last glass of wine for myself. I stepped up onto the bench and sat on the table, looking down on your slumbering form. For the first time since we met, I had an opportunity to gaze upon your intoxicating physique without reservation. I slowly drank the wine, allowing it to soothe my nerves and fire my passion. I committed every muscle, every hair, every bit of your exposed skin to memory.
Your hand roamed over your torso, driving me insane with desire. I drained my glass and set it on the table, unable to resist the impulse to lie down next to you. As I walked to your side, I watched your face for any sign of consciousness, but found none. You appeared to be fast asleep.
I lay down on my side next to you, propped up on my elbow so I could look down upon you. At such close proximity, your body heat served only to inflame my passion, and I could no longer refuse my need to touch you. I reached up with my free hand and placed it lightly on your chest. You grunted softly, but did not stir. I allowed my fingertips to play with your chest hair, relishing the opportunity to indulge this forbidden desire.
I slowly began to move my hand back and forth across your chest. Your body twitched when my palm grazed your nipple, but you did not wake. I took great care not to make any sudden movements that might disturb your slumber.
Our last encounter was such a conflagration that I had not been able to enjoy the simple act of exploring your body. I stroked your chest and stomach with tender caresses, my cock stirring with every move. I could not help but notice a similar reaction from you.
My eyes studied your face as I slowly moved my hand lower, cupping your erection through your leggings. I moved my hand up and down the solid ridge under the leather as I watched your mouth open slightly, releasing a moan of pleasure. But still your eyes remained shut.
I fumbled with the waist fastenings with my one hand, a task which normally would require both. But I took my time and was rewarded with access to the areas beneath the leather. I parted the front of your leggings, releasing your erection to the night air.
It was just as I had remembered it. I continued to run my hand over your torso, teasing myself, forcing myself to wait to touch your cock. I caressed your lower stomach, running my hand under your erection. It twitched as the back of my hand rubbed against the sensitive head. I reached down and cupped your sac, feeling the weight in my hand. I squeezed it ever so gently, eliciting another moan from you.
I could forestall the inevitable no longer and I ran my fingertip lightly along the underside of your cock as it lay against your hairy abdomen. A gasp escaped your lips, and I feared that you might wake. But my fear was unfounded. After pausing a few moments to assure your continued slumber, I wrapped my fingers around you. Another moan rose from you as I slowly moved my hand up and down your shaft with the lightest of caresses.
I applied a bit more pressure and increased the speed of my strokes ever so slightly as you started to thrust your hips, driving your cock into my hand. Still I saw no sign of conscious awareness on your face. Your eyes were still closed, but your jaw had dropped and your moans had grown more vocal.
I was in no hurry to bring you to climax, but your body apparently thought otherwise. Your thrusts and moans increased in volume and frequency until you orgasmed with an "Ahhhhh, yesss." Cum spurted into the air and onto your stomach as your body spasmed in pleasure. More cum flowed down and over my fingers in musky waves.
I slowed my pace as your orgasm subsided, smearing the sticky fluid onto your cock. I released it as it began to soften, returning my hand to your stomach, where I rubbed your essence into the hair covering your abdomen and crotch.
I brought my hand to my face where I inhaled deeply the musky aroma. My curiosity got the better of me and I touched my fingers to my tongue to taste you, uncertain what to expect. The taste was salty and a little bitter, but I found it irresistible and proceeded to lick your cum from my fingers, sucking them into my mouth one at a time while watching your breathing return to normal. A smile was on your lips. I leaned down and kissed you gently on the mouth.
"Mmm," you moaned. And then you spoke so quietly that, had I not been inches from your lips, I would not have heard you. "I love you," you said.
I was stunned. My heart was pounding in my chest with excitement.
But to whom were you speaking? To me? To the lover in your dreams? How was I to know?
Completely flustered with giddy exhilaration, I carefully closed your breeches and restored the waist fastenings. And just in time. Mere heartbeats after I finished the task, you turned away from me onto your side and drifted back into your deep slumber.
I shakily rose to my feet and moved to retrieve my own bedroll, which I placed next to yours. I lay down and quickly withdrew my own rock hard member. The taste of you remained on my tongue and it took only a few strokes before I emptied myself onto my own stomach.
I spread the stickiness over my abdomen with my hand and then returned my cock to its proper home, refastening the breeches as I enjoyed the afterglow of my orgasm.
You loved me? Could it be true? My mind reeled at the implications and possibilities.
However, Meril's wine soon took over and escorted me down the path to sweet slumber. I fell asleep with your scent in my nostrils and your taste in my mouth.
The next morning, I awoke to find you gone. All of your belongings had disappeared as well, which would indicate that you weren't just taking a dip in the stream.
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and tried to comprehend your absence. I stood up and looked around. Noticing a folded parchment on the table, I walked to it and picked it up, almost ripping the paper as I hastily unfolded it.
It was a letter from you. It read:
"Boromir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor,
I regret that I received an urgent summons to return to Edoras. Please accept my apologies for the abrupt curtailment of our meeting. I look forward to our next meeting.
Respectfully yours,
Théodred, son of Théoden, King of Rohan"
My heart sank. I could not believe that you had left so hastily once again. When next we met, I would have to ask you the meaning of this capricious behavior.
As it was, all that remained was to gather my own belongings and return to Minas Tirith.
But the ride home this time was not as depressing as the previous year.
You had said you loved me.
At least that's what I thought you meant. You hadn't said my name specifically, and you had been asleep. You had appeared so, in any case. But my heart had thrown caution to the wind and chosen to accept the declaration on my behalf.
Regardless, my face was beginning to hurt from smiling so much as I rode through the gates of my beloved city.
~*~*~*~
Chapter 11 – Lothlórien, January, 3019, TA
Boromir's face bore a huge grin as he remembered Théodred's first proclamation of love.
Yes, I thought. I wish to see that smile remain on his face. I fortified my resolve to make that happen.
"So did your silly beaming raise any questions with your family?" I asked.
"Well, my father was too intent on your reports to notice my state of mind. But Faramir seemed to notice something was afoot. He asked about my unusual cheerful demeanor, but I deflected his questions with explanations of the incredible food I had tasted in Everholt."
"And he accepted this?"
"He appeared dubious, but did not question me further. That is until the following summer when I received your letter . . . ."
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