Under the cover of the night
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
5
Views:
1,459
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
5
Views:
1,459
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Under the cover of the night
Title: Under the cover of the night
Author: Mimine
Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir
Rating: NC 17
Feedback: Yes please! mimine101@hotmail.com Or leave a review.
Archive: Still a WIP but you’re welcome to it. Just ask first, I’m sure I won’t say no.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, never will be. All I own is the plot and there isn’t much.
A/N Bit of a PWP I suppose. Mostly movieverse. Bean ble awa away as Boromir and Aragorn/Boromir made perfect sense in my little slashy mind.. I wish I could write an opus about them but this fic is all I have the time and talent to produce. I will try to update as soon as possible if I see that there are people reading.
Chapter 1
These are things one does not speak of. It is a well known fact, however, that in similar situations, with death’s cold breath touching their necks, men will turn to each other and casual contact will become a caress, boundaries will be crossed and friend will become lover. I have been in such situations and accepted my companion’s affections under the cover of the night. One does not speak of such things but that does not make them less true.
He does not seek that kind of attentions. His face is pressed on my chest, his dislike and antagonism forgotten in the dark, solemn night. His shoulders shake with sobs that he tries hard to stifle as he grieves for Gandalf that he hardly knew, for our White City that he longs to see again, perhaps for other things as well that I do not know of. He seeomfoomfort but his closeness has awoken my body in a way that I do not want him to feel. I try to pull back, disgusted with myself. He rolls closer to me. His sobs have quietened now and all he does is sigh from time to time. Our lower bodies make contact as he holds on to me. He draws in a sharp breath and I know that my shameful condition is now known to him. To my surprise he doesn’t pull back. On the contrary, he presses his body against mine, giving out a little moan. Soon a hardness meets my own and green eyes shine under the moonlight staring at me with something akin to wonder.
“I’m sorry,” I try to whisper but his lips against mine stifle the words.
The kiss is gentle. Questioning. I respond and I deepen it. His lips are sweeter than a man’s lips should have the right to be. Intoxicated, I plunder his mouth and he yields under my assault. I taste his tears in his mouth and perhaps they should put me off but they do not.
Deft fingers unfasten my shirt and remove it and for a second jealousy flares in me. I wonder how many times he has done this and with whom. My necklace shifts y chy chest as if of its own volition, trying to stop me from this madness by reminding me of the elven lady who awaits me. Guilt has no time to register as his lips fasten on the skin he has exposed and he suckles and bites and marks me as his own. He trails sucking kisses down my abdomen his beard tickling the fine hairs and ruthlessly reminding me of who is giving me these attentions. My hands tangle in his hair to try and stop him but end up stroking the silky mass as his mouth continues its downward journey. He knows exactly what he is doing, there is no hesitation, no fumbling as he pulls down my breeches and takes me in his mouth. Slick and unbearably hot and the small part of me that can still think wonders where and how he’s learnt how to do this, how to take me in all the way without choking. His tongue probes and teases and I bite my makeshift pillow not to cry out as he starts sliding up and down my length. Abruptly he abandons me and I give out a groan of disappointment that sounds too loud in the silent campsite. The cool night air reminds me of my nakedness and I feel my face burn. His hand takes over from his mouth, stroking softly.
“I want you inside me,” he says, his voice a low purr.
I stay silent for a while. I cannot… I need to be honest.
“It will be over before it begins,” I admit shamefaced. He chuckles and takes me in the hot cavern of his mouth again, tongue lashing relentlessly until I explode. I feel him pull back as I do. I cannot blame him for wanting to escape the taste, even though I have never given anyone the kind of ministration he has just given me, I’ve tasted me in another’s mouth and it is not a taste I recommend.
Boromir gathers my release in his hands. I did not see when or how but he is naked. He raises his legs in a rather undignified position if one was to think about it much… which I don’t as I stare dumbfounded at how his slickened fingers disappear inside him. He is hard and leaking, shameless and beautiful and before long I feel some movement in my nether regions just from watching him.
He rubs against my thighs, smearing me, and to my surprise I register the feeling as erotic.
“Oblige me, friend,” he whispers seductively. “Take me.”
His mouth is on me again and I grow hard inside it. He suckles with less than his former fervour. I stroke his bowed back, tracing the sculpted muscle which stirs as he keeps impaling himself on his fingers. His other hand had been aiding his mouth, providing delightful friction but now it moves lower and behind and presses tentatively. A moan leaves my throat before I can stop myself as a finger slips inside without warning. I’ve never allowed such an intimate touch but now I wonder hazily why not. The finger becomes bolder and strokes repeatedly a spot that gives me blinding pleasure making me fear that I shall not be able to ‘oblige’ my comrade as he has put it. Another finger joins the first and any protest dies before it leaves my lips, drowned in the roar of pleasure. He makes me wonder whether he wants to ask of me what he has offered. I realise that my answer would be ‘yes’ but he does not ask and pride doesn’t let me suggest it.
I hiss when he abruptly takes his fingers away. My hands hold onto his hair as he slides back up with difficulty and I whimper in protest at the loss of his mouth. He gives out a chuckle and I feel his warm breath on my stomach.
His strong arms grab my shoulders and with a move that would be more suited to a wrestling match than lovemaking he brings me on top of him. I lie between his spread legs, confused for a moment. The thighs spread even further and his long legs close around my back. He raises himself under me and his fingers leave his fundament to curl around my length and lead me in him. I push gently, hesitantly. I feel his heels dig into my waist as he arches to meet my thrust and I slide into him fully. A cry escapes me and I bite on my lip to stop any others. Tight, so tight that I fear the tension in his face is pain and I still, concerned.
“Please,” he whispers and tries to move under me, his rock hard erection rubbing against my belly. “Take me.”
What demons am I exorcising as I ram him harder and harder, holding his legs back to stop him from quickening our rhythm? The moonlight catches something shiny running down his cheek and I lean to kiss it. His hand tangles in my hair to pull me closer and I forget where his mouth has been, he felt no disgust, what right do I have? I kiss him and our tongues twine just like our bodies. I feel his warm release on me as he tightens. I have no choice but to let go as well. His mouth muffles my cry.
I try to get off him but he holds on to me tightly. We’re lying on his cloak and I’m sure it makes a flimsy mattress but he does not complain. I stroke his hair with a tenderness I’ve never shown to another man.
“I’m supposed to be standing guard,” I whisper and he finally lets go.
I get off him and lie flat on the ground next to him for a moment. He gets up, picks up his cloak and his sword and leaves in the direction of the lake.
I want nothing more than to follow him but I need to wake up Legolas first. Dark elven eyes meet mine when I look in his direction and my cheeks burn. Indeed he has woken.
“I will continue standing guard,” he says simply.
I have no words to explain, to justify what has just happened, the madness which overtook his two human companions. I nod vaguely in his direction and make for the lake.
TBC
Author: Mimine
Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir
Rating: NC 17
Feedback: Yes please! mimine101@hotmail.com Or leave a review.
Archive: Still a WIP but you’re welcome to it. Just ask first, I’m sure I won’t say no.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, never will be. All I own is the plot and there isn’t much.
A/N Bit of a PWP I suppose. Mostly movieverse. Bean ble awa away as Boromir and Aragorn/Boromir made perfect sense in my little slashy mind.. I wish I could write an opus about them but this fic is all I have the time and talent to produce. I will try to update as soon as possible if I see that there are people reading.
Chapter 1
These are things one does not speak of. It is a well known fact, however, that in similar situations, with death’s cold breath touching their necks, men will turn to each other and casual contact will become a caress, boundaries will be crossed and friend will become lover. I have been in such situations and accepted my companion’s affections under the cover of the night. One does not speak of such things but that does not make them less true.
He does not seek that kind of attentions. His face is pressed on my chest, his dislike and antagonism forgotten in the dark, solemn night. His shoulders shake with sobs that he tries hard to stifle as he grieves for Gandalf that he hardly knew, for our White City that he longs to see again, perhaps for other things as well that I do not know of. He seeomfoomfort but his closeness has awoken my body in a way that I do not want him to feel. I try to pull back, disgusted with myself. He rolls closer to me. His sobs have quietened now and all he does is sigh from time to time. Our lower bodies make contact as he holds on to me. He draws in a sharp breath and I know that my shameful condition is now known to him. To my surprise he doesn’t pull back. On the contrary, he presses his body against mine, giving out a little moan. Soon a hardness meets my own and green eyes shine under the moonlight staring at me with something akin to wonder.
“I’m sorry,” I try to whisper but his lips against mine stifle the words.
The kiss is gentle. Questioning. I respond and I deepen it. His lips are sweeter than a man’s lips should have the right to be. Intoxicated, I plunder his mouth and he yields under my assault. I taste his tears in his mouth and perhaps they should put me off but they do not.
Deft fingers unfasten my shirt and remove it and for a second jealousy flares in me. I wonder how many times he has done this and with whom. My necklace shifts y chy chest as if of its own volition, trying to stop me from this madness by reminding me of the elven lady who awaits me. Guilt has no time to register as his lips fasten on the skin he has exposed and he suckles and bites and marks me as his own. He trails sucking kisses down my abdomen his beard tickling the fine hairs and ruthlessly reminding me of who is giving me these attentions. My hands tangle in his hair to try and stop him but end up stroking the silky mass as his mouth continues its downward journey. He knows exactly what he is doing, there is no hesitation, no fumbling as he pulls down my breeches and takes me in his mouth. Slick and unbearably hot and the small part of me that can still think wonders where and how he’s learnt how to do this, how to take me in all the way without choking. His tongue probes and teases and I bite my makeshift pillow not to cry out as he starts sliding up and down my length. Abruptly he abandons me and I give out a groan of disappointment that sounds too loud in the silent campsite. The cool night air reminds me of my nakedness and I feel my face burn. His hand takes over from his mouth, stroking softly.
“I want you inside me,” he says, his voice a low purr.
I stay silent for a while. I cannot… I need to be honest.
“It will be over before it begins,” I admit shamefaced. He chuckles and takes me in the hot cavern of his mouth again, tongue lashing relentlessly until I explode. I feel him pull back as I do. I cannot blame him for wanting to escape the taste, even though I have never given anyone the kind of ministration he has just given me, I’ve tasted me in another’s mouth and it is not a taste I recommend.
Boromir gathers my release in his hands. I did not see when or how but he is naked. He raises his legs in a rather undignified position if one was to think about it much… which I don’t as I stare dumbfounded at how his slickened fingers disappear inside him. He is hard and leaking, shameless and beautiful and before long I feel some movement in my nether regions just from watching him.
He rubs against my thighs, smearing me, and to my surprise I register the feeling as erotic.
“Oblige me, friend,” he whispers seductively. “Take me.”
His mouth is on me again and I grow hard inside it. He suckles with less than his former fervour. I stroke his bowed back, tracing the sculpted muscle which stirs as he keeps impaling himself on his fingers. His other hand had been aiding his mouth, providing delightful friction but now it moves lower and behind and presses tentatively. A moan leaves my throat before I can stop myself as a finger slips inside without warning. I’ve never allowed such an intimate touch but now I wonder hazily why not. The finger becomes bolder and strokes repeatedly a spot that gives me blinding pleasure making me fear that I shall not be able to ‘oblige’ my comrade as he has put it. Another finger joins the first and any protest dies before it leaves my lips, drowned in the roar of pleasure. He makes me wonder whether he wants to ask of me what he has offered. I realise that my answer would be ‘yes’ but he does not ask and pride doesn’t let me suggest it.
I hiss when he abruptly takes his fingers away. My hands hold onto his hair as he slides back up with difficulty and I whimper in protest at the loss of his mouth. He gives out a chuckle and I feel his warm breath on my stomach.
His strong arms grab my shoulders and with a move that would be more suited to a wrestling match than lovemaking he brings me on top of him. I lie between his spread legs, confused for a moment. The thighs spread even further and his long legs close around my back. He raises himself under me and his fingers leave his fundament to curl around my length and lead me in him. I push gently, hesitantly. I feel his heels dig into my waist as he arches to meet my thrust and I slide into him fully. A cry escapes me and I bite on my lip to stop any others. Tight, so tight that I fear the tension in his face is pain and I still, concerned.
“Please,” he whispers and tries to move under me, his rock hard erection rubbing against my belly. “Take me.”
What demons am I exorcising as I ram him harder and harder, holding his legs back to stop him from quickening our rhythm? The moonlight catches something shiny running down his cheek and I lean to kiss it. His hand tangles in my hair to pull me closer and I forget where his mouth has been, he felt no disgust, what right do I have? I kiss him and our tongues twine just like our bodies. I feel his warm release on me as he tightens. I have no choice but to let go as well. His mouth muffles my cry.
I try to get off him but he holds on to me tightly. We’re lying on his cloak and I’m sure it makes a flimsy mattress but he does not complain. I stroke his hair with a tenderness I’ve never shown to another man.
“I’m supposed to be standing guard,” I whisper and he finally lets go.
I get off him and lie flat on the ground next to him for a moment. He gets up, picks up his cloak and his sword and leaves in the direction of the lake.
I want nothing more than to follow him but I need to wake up Legolas first. Dark elven eyes meet mine when I look in his direction and my cheeks burn. Indeed he has woken.
“I will continue standing guard,” he says simply.
I have no words to explain, to justify what has just happened, the madness which overtook his two human companions. I nod vaguely in his direction and make for the lake.
TBC