Masks

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“What’s wrong?” he asked, watching as she instinctively rubbed her collarbone.

She wanted to hide the marks from him, fearing what it would lead to if he knew. “N-nothing,” she faltered, backing way.

He would not let her get away with it, seemed almost driven to see what she was trying to hide. His hands darted for her arms, pulling her back into him as he reached around for the ribbons at her back. He undid them through her struggles, then pulled the dress away from her shoulder, baring it. She could see the hard, dark lines with her own eyes if she turned her head just so. There was no hiding it from him, so she simply looked away and waited for him to react. His fingers came against her skin softly, caressing up the line of her collar, barely brushing over one of the bite marks and causing her to flinch. The silence as he looked at her was dreadful.

It was interrupted by the door opening. “There you are, Lord Boromir, I was wondering…” the young servant trailed off, seeing what was going on. Alura gazed and saw an assumption within his eyes. She wondered when Faramir would hear of this moment.

Boromir turned his head, but did not take his eyes off her shoulder. “Go now. You never saw this. Do you understand me?” His tone was rough and serious.

“Y-yes, Lord Boromir. Of course.” He quickly left them alone. The door shutting made her jump and she chided herself for her nerves.

He inhaled deeply, tracing her skin, looking but not seeing, as if he were trying to decide what to do with what he had seen. When he spoke she felt that heaviness return to her. “Did Faramir do this to you?”

Sniffing and looking away, she shook her head and replied softly, “No. He didn’t do that to me, at least.” She wondered if he would believe her, wondered if it would matter even if he did.

Drawing her dress up, he breathed out as if he too felt the weight upon his shoulders. He wandered behind her and began tying her ribbons again. “What did he do?”

“I told you what he did,” she responded quietly, feeling a headache coming on.

When the last tie was done, he retreated to the couch and sank down, resting his arms against his legs. He gazed up at her with an unease that suggested belief. She found she couldn’t take much comfort from it. “Damn him!” he suddenly fumed, lifting his hands and lowering his head into them, smoothing his auburn tresses back. Boromir laughed a bitter laugh, then shook his head. “Something is going on here. Something very serious, Alura. I do not know what you have been through, but a year ago my brother would never have done such a thing. Hell, a month ago he would never have, if I know him at all. What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know,” she replied honestly, sitting down. She held her arms around her abdomen, feeling hallow inside. “Boromir, there’s something in the tower. Its what bit me.”

His eyes trailed unconsciously to her shoulder as he remembered. “What was it? How did you get up there?”

“Your father sent me up there,” she responded darkly, loathing the memory of his anger, the guards that touched her, and the creature that filled her nightmares. She shivered and gazed at the floor. “He was angry that I refused to marry Faramir. So he sent me up there with…it. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t think it’s human. It binds its eyes and speaks darkly. It…drank my blood.” Her lashes fluttered shut as she relieved the feel of cold teeth and hands.

Alura dared a look and saw great disquiet in Boromir’s eyes. He looked stung, horrified and angry. “That sounds like something dark,” he said after a time. “Something that damn well should not be in Minas Tirith! What is my father doing?” She watched as he stood and began pacing the small space before the couch. He paused a moment and looked her over. “What should I do?” It didn’t seem like a question he was asking, more like something he asked himself aloud, so she said nothing and watched the wheels turn behind his eyes.

The door opened again and he jerked his eyes up angrily. Alura saw with some distress that it was no servant interrupting them this time. “What’s this?” Faramir said neutrally, but she could see a definite interest that made her uneasy. Boromir did not hide the ire shining through his expression, directed at his brother. He watched as Faramir entered and shut the door behind him, not moving his gaze, not offering a word of explanation. The younger looked between them, obviously trying to decide what to say. “Boromir, it is time for your wedding. We have been looking for you everywhere. Both of you. Éowyn is not completely healthy. She needs to rest.”

“Then she does not need to marry today,” Boromir concluded coldly, crossing his arms over his chest as Faramir neared him. “I think perhaps the wedding should wait.”

“Wait for what?” the younger asked with a knit brow. This situation frightened Alura, for she could see plainly that Boromir was going to head straight into the fire boldly. How Faramir would respond she could not guess, but knew it would not be with loving words.

The elder certainly was not approaching his brother with such gentility. She winced when he hissed, “Wait until I am certain this is the best thing for Gondor! What is the game, Faramir? Why must I marry Éowyn? What is the game?”

Faramir shook his head. “There is no game. What has this little minx been telling you?”

“She need not tell me anything, Faramir.” Boromir took a step towards the other, his anger surfacing more and more with each passing moment. “I see everything that is happening. I am not stupid, no matter what you and Father might think. What’s happening here is not normal and you damn well know it.”

The younger put on a reasonable façade, but Alura didn’t miss a glance he shot in her direction. She decided not to go anywhere alone tonight if she could help it. Faramir returned his attention back to his brother. “Of course neither Father, nor I think you are stupid, Boromir. Don’t be childish. And of course what’s happening here isn’t normal. We’re protecting ourselves from war, Boromir. In case you have not noticed, things are changing all over the world, what with the shadows increasing, more attacks on innocent villages. King Théoden is half lost to dotage!” Alura made a move for him, not caring after that little remark, but Boromir held her back. Faramir ignored her struggles, still addressing his brother. “The Elves are leaving us and Saruman…” He closed his mouth, his eyes betraying a slip in that.

“Saruman?” Alura hissed, suspecting he knew more of what was going on in Rohan than they had let on. She forced herself out of Boromir’s hold, but did not lunge for Faramir. “What do you know of the Orcs bearing the White Hand? Why does Saruman suddenly make war on an innocent people?”

He kept his mouth shut, but his eyes were clearly sending her a message of his anger. “Why have you turned my brother against me?” he asked low, following her as she paced around him.

Boromir shook his head with a frustrated breath, getting closer to the both of them as if sensing she was pushing Faramir. “It is not she that turns me against you, Faramir. I am not against you, but I am against allegiance with forces that have never been and never will serve the betterment of Gondor.”

“What have you been telling him, Alura?” Faramir pressed, turning away from Boromir. “What lies have you poisoned him with?”

“I have an even better question. What is in the tower, Faramir?” The question drew Faramir’s eyes off of her face. He whipped his head around and gazed at his brother very seriously. “There is something there, isn’t there? Something dangerous. Something that feeds off of blood? What is it? What has our father done?”

For a long moment the younger said nothing. There was a battle of wills being waged within their two equally cool gazes. Faramir was weighing his brother’s reaction and apparently did not like what he was supposing. He did not speak to Boromir, but turned his attention on Alura now. So angry was his expression that she stepped back away from him even as Boromir moved to intercept anything his brother tried. But Faramir meant no violence yet. He pointed his finger at her and hissed, “You have ruined everything, bitch. You have trifled with the Steward of Gondor and his plans to protect his country. If you spoke for Rohan our countries would be at war, but since you are nothing but a common whore then I can say the burden of punishment falls solely to you.” He stalked towards the door, then stopped and turned towards his brother. “I would rethink your prejudices, Boromir. And remember one thing. Éowyn waits for you. She waits by our father’s side. Perhaps you aren’t so terribly clever after all. I will give you fifteen minutes before I tell him what you have said and what your decision seems to be.”

“And then what, Faramir? You will kill me? Give me to that thing in the tower, your own brother?” He was being sarcastic and harsh, but Alura could see that there was a degree of disbelief in Boromir’s eyes that made his questions less than mere jabs.

Faramir inserted himself between the door and the threshold, watching Boromir almost sadly. “Father will do as he sees fit. I hope that does not include any losses on my part. Save for the loss of a bad mistake.” His eyes flickered to Alura as he said that.

“When did this change in you happen?” the elder persisted trying desperately to grasp at just when his reality had changed.

His brother gave him a soft smile. “In the beginning of the war of Osgiliath, before I came to your aid. It was then I was taught the truth of what was ahead of Gondor. Our Father, you see, perceives your stubborn honor very well. Fortunately I was so keen on gaining his affection I did not question him. And now I am part of a bigger future you deny yourself. Unless you change your mind.”

“What of Éomer?” Alura asked with a heavy tone, afraid of what she might hear. “Did he truly kill himself?”

Faramir grinned maliciously. “Do you honestly think he would? He became unstable after your little tryst. It was not hard for our guest to aid him in writing that letter. I would consider the powers you are dealing with.” He then he disappeared into the hall, shutting the door behind him.

Swallowing, she turned her eyes to her companion in question of what would be done. Fear filled her when she saw uncertainty in his gaze. He gave her a defensive look, then stalked to a cart of drinks nearby and poured. Alura shook her head in irritation, demanding, “What are we going to do?”

He gave a bitter little laugh as he sipped, then hurled the glass across the room. It hit the wall and shattered into a thousand tiny pieces that glittered to the carpet surface below. She watched the wine like blood run down the wall. “I do not know what we are going to do. This is far more serious than I could have ever imagined. I just…I cannot believe…” He seemed uncharacteristically speechless, a fact that made her a little nervous. He seemed lost to his thoughts for a few terribly long minutes. When his eyes finally met hers she could see no saving plan in them. “We have two options, it seems. We escape together and try to find someone that can make some sense out of this for us or we remain. I marry Éowyn and pretend to submit until I think of a better plan. You…I fear, my dear lover, you are beyond hope if it comes to that. They will never believe a sudden change of heart. They will want to punish you for telling me what I know.”

Her face felt hot and her body trembled as she sank down on the edge of the couch. “No thanks to you,” she hissed, glaring up at him. “Was there a specific reason you could not have pretended before your little display?”

He sat down in a chair near her, rubbing his face, looking suddenly very exhausted. He shrugged. “Would it have mattered? He would know something was going on between us in here. If I had pretended we were making love he still would have been angry with you.” She did not doubt that at all.

Neither choice felt comfortable. If they left, they would be leaving Éowyn. If they remained, she would certainly perish or fall into torment. She shuddered, thinking on the creature in the tower. Tears came to the edges of her eyelids. “What are we going to do? I don’t want…that thing in the tower is horrible. Your father will give me to it, if not murder me right away. Staying here…”

“Is out of the question,” he finished with a grunt. His smoky-blue eyes watched her from beneath a hand at his brow.

Alura shook her head. “We can’t leave Éowyn.”

He answered without a beat. “We must.”

She got to her feet and paced rapidly, angry with him, with this whole situation. “We’re not going to leave her,” she insisted firmly, daring him with her gaze to respond any differently.

Boromir laughed, but quickly enough it turned into a glare. “Yes, we damn well, are going to leave her here. Do you know why? Because she has guards between she and us, Alura. We have to get out of here and we have to do it now, before anyone tries to stop us.” He stood up, shaking his head. “I know a way out if Faramir has not already sent men ahead of us to block it.”

He took a step towards her and she jerked back, eyes wide with surprise. “Leave her here? They’ll kill her, Boromir!”

Instead of retorted roughly, he smirked and darted for her again, taking her wrist. “They’re not going to kill her. They need her. And you know who needs us?” He pulled her towards the door, stopping there before turning the handle. “Those out there that haven’t been tainted by this evil, that’s who. Act natural.” He didn’t give her time to retort, opening the door and ushering her out.

Alura followed him without a fight, knowing he was right. Her breath felt trapped within her as she pictured Éowyn’s innocent face. “What do you think they will do to her?” she breathed when they were in a hall free of guards and passers.

He glanced at her, then grunted. “Probably tell her some story about why we’re gone. Then Faramir will comfort her, I’ll bet.”

She stopped there in the hall at that. “We have to get her out of here!”

“How?” he asked simply, waiting for her reply without much hope in his eyes. “Tell me how to get her out of here while keeping both of you and myself alive. She won’t be killed. They need her to solidify relations with Rohan. I swear no matter what my brother has said, unless he and my father are not only fooled by the shadow, but stupid as well, they will not kill her.” He pursed his lips, letting her have a moment to think it over. It was not long enough to cleanse her of the guilt she felt weighing her down.

They had not the luxury of waiting. Boromir took her hand and urged her along, and Alura went, knowing all too well his logic was flawless. They had to get out of here if they possibly could. Yet even that seemed a hopeless task. Where would they go where Denethor could not send guards after them? She could not conceive of getting out of here on a horse. They had no food, no water. She let out a groan without thinking and he turned, giving her a small smile as if he guessed half the things running through her mind. “We’re going to die, you know,” she responded with a forced smile.

His only increased. “You’re probably right. But at least we’ll have a shot at warning someone.”

“Where will we go?” she asked uneasily, thinking about Rohan. If Théoden had fallen beneath the same shadows that had trapped Denethor then there may not be any safer than here. She hated to think that, but she knew all too well the bonds of family were no bar to the evil spreading.

He shrugged, stopping and peering around a corner, then urging her on. “A letter came from Elrond of Rivendell. If we can make it, there seems as good as any place. We will have to stop elsewhere along the way for supplies, however. I do not suppose…” he left it at that, waiting to see if she would take the bait.

Alura shook her head. “No. We can’t. Not Edoras, anyway.”

They stepped out into the old behind the White Tower and she wondered where it was he was going to lead her. They had the darkness of dusk to hide his dark clothing, but she had been dressed in a gown of pale lavender. It seemed to glow in the evening moonlight, revealing her to any eyes that would see. He said nothing of it, however, breaking into a sprint, her hand in his. He rushed her to the stair leading to the Sixth Tier without words and she followed, feeling herself lose her fear in the conscious effort of the escape. The cool wind whipped at her dark hair, stinging her face as they rushed down the steps.

“Where are we going?” she asked him as they darted on from the landing.

“The Closed Door at the back of this level. It leads to the Hallows. There is a secret passage into the mountains there.” They came before the stables and he stopped. “I am going to try and get at least one horse.”

She swallowed as he reached for the gate. “Do you think you’ll be allowed?”

He smirked. “I’m still a Captain of Gondor. I think.” Pulling the door open, he entered and she followed, afraid of being seen alone.

The same old man was there tending the horses. He smiled. “Good day to ya, Lord Boromir. Goodness, aren’t ya supposed to be getting married?”

Boromir grinned and shook his head. “Not now. Change of plans. I need a horse. Quickly.”

A tense moment passed before the older man approached a stall nearby. He opened the gate and led a chestnut brown horse from within. Boromir yanked some reigns from the wall and put them on the horse quickly, then urged it towards the exit. “Aren’t ya going to saddle it, sir?”

He shook his head and gave a parting smile, then motioned Alura out. “Do you know how to ride bareback?” she asked him as he stopped.

He mounted and held out his hand. “Do you?”

“Of course I do,” she hissed, seating herself behind him. “I hope this cave of yours can fit us on top of a horse.”

Kicking the mount’s flanks, Boromir said nothing as they set off towards the door he had in mind. Most of Minas Tirith was waiting in the hall for the wedding to begin, but some few guards eyed their passage curiously. She wondered if anyone was going to try to stop them. Part of the wedding garb Boromir was clad in was his sword at his hip, a fact she was grateful for, but she felt empty without a weapon for herself. If it came to fighting she could not see where she would do much good.

Taking a breath, she forced herself to quit analyzing what lay ahead of them, throwing herself into the doing instead of the planning. Laying her cheek against his back she thought on Éowyn, wondering what they would tell her when they discovered she and Boromir had fled. It would probably be something that made her look bad to her cousin and in all honesty, she feared it would not be far from the truth. If she had never lain with Boromir none of this would have happened in all likelihood. But then they would be falling into a trap. Alura sighed and looked up as they came to the door. Two guards were stationed there. One gazed up and said gruffly, “Lord Boromir? Are you not due for your marriage? What is it that you want?”

“I want passage,” Boromir said without a beat. “I have business to tend to. Open the gate.”

The two of them shared a look. “Sir, this gate has been closed by your father.”

Without waiting Boromir drew his sword and pointed it at the one that spoke. “It has been ordered open by me. Do not deny me this. Do not require a fight of me.”

“Not without permission from the Steward, my Lord. I am sorry.”

Alura found her breath held back in her chest as he dismounted and approached the men with his sword held ready. The horse she was on whinnied as she nudged it back away from the fight. When the first clash of swords broke into the silence she jumped slightly and gazed to make sure Boromir was not hurt. It was oddly quiet out as he fought his own men, quiet save the metal clinking and the grunts of labor that gave from the battle. The horse nickered again and hit a goof against the stone, obviously spooked by the noises. “Shh,” Alura soothed, though she felt she could do with some soothing herself.

The scuffle was over soon enough, Boromir emerging the victor. After opening the gate he hurried back to the horse and mounted again, then they were off, heading down the slope that lead to the Hallows at the back of Minas Tirith, beside the mountain. It was dark there, so dark she feared they would easily loose their way, but Boromir seemed to know what to do. The quiet was eerie and made her uneasy and the trip through this place seemed to take ages until finally, behind a grand building, Boromir got down and moved to a shadowy corner. She listened as he rummaged around, then heard a creaking sound. Suddenly he reemerged, taking the reigns and leading the horse by foot. As they bled into the black Alura stiffened, afraid that there might be guards waiting to ambush them. “Boromir,” she whispered. “How do you know where we are?” There was no light for her eyes to find to adjust to the darkness. It was as black as death.

“I can feel the wall, don’t worry,” he replied softly. “Faramir and I used to play here frequently as children. I know very few places better than these caves.”

“What if someone’s waiting for us?” she asked.

His momentary silence made her uneasy, which only worsened when he finally said, “Then I hope they do not get a good hold on me, which isn’t being helped by our talking.”

Biting her bottom lip, Alura refrained from speaking out, knowing he was right. It was slow going, too slow. When the sparse few moments turned into fifteen, Alura could hold her tongue no longer. “Boromir, they have to know you aren’t coming by now. They’ll be here with torches and swords, too many for us to fight. They have the light to give them speed.”

“You’re right, of course, but what else can we do save go ahead?” He exhaled and kept on. “The flooring in here is stone, at least. We leave no footprints yet. There are a few paths we might take. We have that as well, that they will not know for certain which tunnels I have chosen.”

That did not offer her much comfort, but she conceded the need to keep trying. To go back would usher in death, now more likely for the both of them. Strangely enough she heard nothing behind them as time passed. She wasn’t sure whether to frightened by that fact or not. It seemed forever until she noticed something. Light. Her pulse quickened with hope when she saw his form for the first time in what seemed ages. “A way out?” she said with soft hope.

He turned his head slightly with a grunt. “Yes. A way out to a path that leads the long way around the mountain. It will take hours to traverse. All the way around. I am starting to believe this escape was a little ill planned.”

“Great,” she responded with a little less humor than she had wanted.

Boromir shrugged as they came to the mouth. The light made her squint, event though it was merely the illumination of the moon. “Don’t worry. I do my best when I charge in without a plan.”

“That makes me feel a lot better,” was her dry response. She was so grateful for the light. Instinctively her eyes sought out the moon and for the first time this evening she felt they had hope. It was peaceful out here, so peaceful she could imagine none of it had happened. The weight over Minas Tirith was heavy, but did not extend here for some strange reason.

They wound around the mountain, steadily away from the citadel. Mordor was still visible, however. She gazed at the black sooty clouds that hung over the nearby country. Boromir stopped where the path wasn’t as narrow, drawing her attention back to him. He looked up, the moonlight making his blue eyes seem to glow. He looked handsome, protective. It was an image she was sure she would carry with her. Without words he mounted behind her, molding to her as he wrapped his arms around her to claim control of the horse. With a nudge he brought the animal to a faster pace and she took comfort from that, drinking in the warmth that surrounded her.

The rest of the night was quiet and that bothered her at first, but as the minutes turned into hours she began to lose her fear and believe they might make it through this. Something in the middle of the night Boromir stopped, however, and remained silent for a time. When she asked what was wrong, he lifted his hand, but said nothing, so she waited anxiously for him to speak. What seemed an eternity later he did, cursing softly. “What is it?” Alura insisted sourly.

He pointed down into the darkness. “I heard something. A few somethings that make me wonder if Faramir hasn’t prepared for us already. It’s entirely possible he let us escape through the passages knowing he could corner us below. Son of a bitch.” He made no move to get the horse going again.

“What are we going to do?” she whispered into the darkness, feeling it all together too loud for her liking. She tried hard to see something in the shadows below, but the moon was night bright enough to reach this side of the mountain. She couldn’t hear whatever it was that had tipped Boromir off, but did not question his knowledge.

The horse nickered softly and he rubbed at its neck softly, shaking his head. “We’ll never sneak by, of course. There is a spring in the mountains if I take a path we passed a while ago. I am not sure how long we could wait there without being found. There are a few passages that lead out of it, but I would rather not have to resort to them.”

“Faramir will only come for us eventually anyway,” she assumed, looking out towards the darkness. “Is there no other path off this mountain?”

Boromir shook his head. “Not unless we go back to Minas Tirith. If we go to the spring at least there is a chance of minimizing how many men get to us. The ground above it is narrow. Don’t worry. I’ll think of something.” Pulling back on the reigns, Boromir very carefully urged the horse backwards, for there was no room for it to turn. Mercifully they came to a larger ridge nearby where such a feat were possible, but even with added speed Alura felt as if the eyes of Faramir were upon them. She darted nervous glances at their backs, always listening for a sign they had been discovered.

Soon they came to an opening in the rock face. Boromir dismounted and led the horse in by foot once more and as they entered into the black once more, Alura closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself as if it could provide comfort. It did little good. As the moments slipped away she found herself loathing the darkness more and more, unnerved by it and the things that could hide in such darkness, until she began to notice something and her attention was snared. It was nothing too tangible and certainly not enough that she could see Boromir by, but there was a distinct change in the atmosphere. The scent was moist and there seemed to be instead of unending blackness, a vague hint of blue. “Something’s different,” she said softly, seeing if he noticed as well.

“Yes, it is. The spring is just here.” She could see an increase in the lighting ahead, the barest vision of the horse’s head before her. “Marsh gas hovers over the spring. It is not much, but a break from the black.” He stopped the horse just before a threshold and held his arms out to aid her down. She slipped off the horse and followed him in where she could indeed see a strange luminescent mist hovering just above black-seeming waters. Boromir bent down and picked up a sizable rock, then tossed it into the pool and waited. Alura gasped, seeing a faint glow beneath the surface. “Magic plants,” he explained flippantly.

“Magic plants,” she repeated with a roll of her eyes. “I saw something like this deep within the mountains at Helm’s Deep. Éowyn and I used to explore there. It’s pretty.”

In the dim she saw him sink down the wall and sit, looking in the direction of the spring. “Pretty, yes. I’m not so sure I would drink it, though.” He sighed and turned towards her. She could just make out his eyes glinting in the soft pale light the haze above the pool. “I am sorry all this has happened,” he said suddenly.

Alura sat near him, feeling her chilled skin comforted by his warmth. She drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “I am too. But what’s done is done, I guess.”

“I should have seen the change in them. I should not have been blinded by my love.”

She sighed and pillowed her chin against her arms, gazing at the dusty floor beneath them. “I was blinded too, for a time.”

Boromir said nothing to that, did not ask what she meant. She was grateful to him for it, for to explain Éomer’s sudden change would be too painful for her to bear. They sat quietly for a long time before she felt his strong hand on her shoulder, rubbing softly. She lifted her head and looked at him, watching as he smoothed his fingers along her collarbone. What was he thinking, she wondered. Was he giving up and seeking a final moment’s pleasure? It gave her a renewed sense of heaviness inside, but she could hardly blame him. Thinking on what lay ahead of them she could hardly see how they would get out of this alive. Without words she took his hand from her collar and brought it down to the ribbons at the front of her scarlet-now-black bodice.

His fingers played at the soft silken strings as he searched her eyes. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, then followed the line of her throat to where his hand played.

Under other circumstances she might not have been certain. It would have to mean something then, of course. She was tired of it meaning something, though. Tired of it meaning she was another man’s property or that she was taking something belonging to her cousin. She saw it now as a last bit of joy before the darkness swallowed them whole. Biting her bottom lip, she nodded softly, mingling her fingers with his. She tangled them into the ribbons and pulled his hand away, loosening the bodice. He needed no more encouragement than that and took matters into his own hands, pulling the strings quick as if he thought they could be found at any time. It fell open as he tossed the string to the dirt nearby.

Softly he smoothed his hands within, parting the two halves as his hands smoothed over her clothed breasts, cupping them. He gave her a soft squeeze in response to her jerking at the ties of his pants. Brushing the bodice off her shoulders, he then rubbed his hands along her shoulders warmly, baring them as he moved. Unabashedly, Alura parted his leather pants and smoothed a hand inside, rubbing along his hipbone, causing him to groan in response. His eyes glittered blue in the dim glow as he awarded her a heated look of appreciation. And then suddenly he jerked her dress down, winning a breathy gasp of delight. He laughed in enjoyment of her surprise, then pressed his hands along her now bare breasts.

Sitting on her knees as she found him sitting, Alura arched into his touch, wanting more of him. She opened his pants and continued teasing him, rubbing dangerously close to his manhood, yet avoiding prolonged pleasure for him. “You vicious vixen,” he hissed, squeezing her breasts roughly. He abandoned one to wrap his arm around her waist, pressing her against him as his mouth covered hers in a swift, rough kiss. Alura stilled in his arms as he stole her breath, his other hand meshed between them, fondling her. She could feel his hardness pressed against her belly and it filled her with desire.

“We shall see,” he said breathlessly, as he pulled his mouth from hers, “how you enjoy being teased.” His hand let her breast to seek places below, pulling her skirt up over her belly as he held her hard against him. Alura’s eyes went wide when he dove into her curls and slid a finger inside of her tight entrance without waiting. She whimpered as a pleasurably weakness swam in her abdomen, bringing her thighs together instinctively. But it would not block him, even if she wanted it to. Inserting another finger, he found a pool of warm moisture between her legs and smoothed it along her heated inner flesh without hesitation, taking obvious delight in her pleasured groans.

Her legs dug into the dirt beneath them as she squirmed against his thrusting fingers. His eyes stared into hers intensely as he watched her take pleasure. The sounds of their panting filled the small cave clearing and she felt oblivious to little else than the sounds and the feelings. Her hands tightened along the shoulders of his shirt, pulling him steadily into her even as he pulled his arm back. Just as she was about to speak, to urge him to complete their union, he pulled his hand from her warm crevice and wrapped his arm around her waist with the other, holding her skirt up as he sat back against the rocky wall. Alura moaned out hard as he pulled her into a straddle along his lap and pressed his length up inside of her, urging her down even as he pressed upwards as far as he could.

Alura rubbed his shoulders absently as his mouth attacked hers again, hands seeking beneath her skirts, cupping the flesh of her behind and rubbing. It stirred her pleasure, but she withheld, not wanting to rush what would soon become a rough dance. She could sense his desire as he gently urged her forward, perhaps without even knowing it. Those gentle insinuations made her tremble with want. His seeking tongue halted against hers as she rocked forward against him once. He allowed her to rock backwards, falling back away from her, his hair falling across his eyes as he watched her face. When she fell back completely he surprised her by forcing her forward again, hard and fast. Alura leaned against him with hands on his shoulders, breathing deeply, hovering her lips right against his. Slowly she slid back again, only to be forced forward once more.

The pace quickened as their need became greater. Boromir put his hands on the ground beneath him, pushing up into her quivering body each time she rocked forward. He groaned and threw his head back, but kept his eyes trained on hers until she could look no longer. The bliss was welling up inside of her. Alura whimpered softly against him, resting herself on his chest and shoulders until the ache of desire piqued. She fell against him and moaned, gripping his shirt hard, pushed further each time he nailed into her, seeking his own release. He was not long in coming to pleasure, finally winning his and falling against the wall. He wrapped his arms around her, catching his breath, smoothing his fingers through her hair.

Alura opened her eyes and gazed at nothing in the dimness of the cave, feeling tired, sated and unafraid for the time being. She sat up and brushed his hair out of his eyes, then pulled herself off of his lap and eased beside him. “We should get some rest,” he said, stilling her hand as she made to close her dress. “Lay beside me. Be in no hurry to hide yourself from me.”

She felt herself blush a little at his request, but did not finish closing her dress. He moved to his side and stretched out, then held out his arms. Breathing a soft sigh, she got down in the dirt with him and placed herself in his arms, closing her eyes in pleasure as he stroked her skin gently. “Do you think we’re going to die?” she asked him softly.

For a long moment he was silent, silent until she thought him asleep in fact. She was nearly there herself when she heard him breathe, “I do not know.”