It was their final night in Rivendell and Aragorn was anxious to have one last comfortable evening with his newfound lover. He had already said his goodbyes to Arwen, but now he and Boromir needed to have a last night in comfort. It was no less than they deserved.
He had seen him at the quiet supper that the members of the fellowship had shared, along with a few others of Elrond’s household, but they had barely spoken. Boromir had been extremely quiet and kept mostly to himself, almost shunning the company of others. Aragorn had watched as his Steward shied away especially from the Elf, Legolas and wondered at the young Prince’s reaction to the warrior from Gondor. They seemed to have an aversion to one another, but not with any dislike. It seemed that guilt drove them to avoid each other, even to the point where if one were to come in physical contact with the other they would flinch and move quickly away. He had wondered at this and began to have dark, possessive thoughts towards both his lovers.
But now, the meal had finished and the rest had gone off to well deserved rest in feather beds beneath downy quilts and silken sheets. He needed to be with Boromir and was having difficulty in concealing his distress at not being able to go find the dour Southerner. He longed to touch him and hold him and make him smile. But his obligations to Elrond as master of the house were that he would have to wait until he was dismissed from council to seek his own rest.
*later*
An hour passed and then two since the fellowship feast had ended, and still Elrond and Gandalf went on about paths to follow and what should be done. He listened with half an ear, letting his thoughts linger on the pleasures of Boromir’s mouth and body. He let himself be distracted by images of his lover beneath and beside him. He even allowed a fantasy or two to involve both Boromir and Legolas available for his pleasure. A sharp reproach from Elrond brought him out of his reverie and made him notice the heat and discomfort in the front of his leathers. He laid his hands in his lap and brought his attention back to the here and now.
He could see from the look on Elrond’s face that he had missed something of importance. He glanced at Gandalf to see if there would be help there, but the wizard was lost in his own thoughts as he studied a map on the table in front of him. Aragorn looked askance at the master of Rivendell.
"Did you hear nothing of what we have discussed here Elessar?" came the deep tones of Elrond.
"I ask your pardon master as I have been lost in my own thoughts of what this quest means for not only myself, but for all the peoples of the land." came Aragorn’s quick reply.
The ancient Halfelf grimaced and sighed.
"I’m sure you ponder that at length, but you must know where your road leads." Elrond sighed. "I suppose that Gandalf will keep you abreast of all that we plan and discuss here. I am sure that you have other things on your mind. Arwen no doubt. You may as well go to bed and get what rest you can. It will be morning soon enough and you must be as sharp as you can be. Your time has come. Go. You are no use to us in this mood."
He waved his hand at Aragorn in a gesture of dismissal. The heir of Isildur glanced at his friend the wizard, who merely raised an eyebrow and nodded at him. With is heart in his mouth, the northern Ranger rose, careful to keep hidden the rising bulge in his breeches, and bid both his councillors goodnight. He kept a tight rein on his emotions as he all but ran from the room and out into the hallway. After a few steps up a small stairway, he began to move quickly towards Boromir’s room.
*moments later*
Quietly he stepped into the hallway outside his lover’s room, noting the sounds around him. He waited for a moment or two, listening for the approach of any feet and was satisfied that no one was near. He moved with graceful stealth to the door, rapped once and was granted admission almost immediately. As he slipped inside the candlelit room, he didn’t see nor hear Legolas lingering out of sight in a small alcove nearby. If he had seen the expression on the Elf’s face, he might have reconsidered his next conversation. As the door closed behind Aragorn, Legolas slipped from the alcove and into the empty room next to Boromir’s.
*inside Boromir’s bedroom*
Boromir sat in an ornate, high-backed chair near the balcony that overlooked a burbling fountain. He had sat there for hours it seemed to him as he waited for the inevitable visit from his liege. The Tirithean was not disappointed as Aragorn slipped into his room and approached him quickly. Boromir did not turn to greet his lover who knelt at his side and caressed his hand where it lay along the arm of the chair. With great sadness and heaviness of limb, he drew his hand away and laid it in his lap. He felt the tension spring to his lover’s body with that movement and waited for him to speak.
But Aragorn did not speak then. He stood and moved into his lover’s line of sight, blocking the view of the moonlit fountain. Boromir turned his head away to gaze into the crackling fire that burned in the grate. Again Aragorn moved into his view and when he tried to turn his gaze away again, a hand was laid along his jaw and another ran fingers through his hair. He was forced to look into the face of the love who had betrayed him. He held back his tears, knowing that no man of war would ever cry before another, not even at a comrades’ fall in battle. Instead, he stared into the deep, blue eyes before his and waited again for Aragorn to speak. He did not wait long.
"What is wrong my love?" Said the Dunedain softly. "Why do you fail to greet me and then turn away?"
Boromir closed his eyes a moment, fighting the sorrow and heartache that welled up inside him. When he opened his eyes again his vision was blurred as the tears he had been fighting to hide came spilling over his lower lashes and began to trickle down his pale cheeks like the water in the fountain outside. He could not avoid the look of concern and love that he saw in Aragorn’s eyes as the taller man leaned in and began to kiss the tears away and whisper soothing words.
"Hush my love. I know what it is that troubles you now. This is our last night where we will be free to love one another, at least until I am crowned king and the ring is laid to rest in the cracks of Oroduin. I know that difficult times lie ahead of us and little comfort will we be able to take in each other’s company when we cannot embrace, but be assured that we have tonight, all the rest of it and I will find time to be with you whenever we can, even if it is only for a stolen kiss or two. Now don’t fret my dear one. All will be well."
Boromir felt ire rise in him and he pushed Aragorn away, hating the womanly emotions that raged within him. He felt weak when he should be strong and a flash of despite rose like bile in his heart for this man who could make him feel so weak. He strode to the fireplace and placed both his hands upon the mantle, leaning forward and bowing his head toward the wave of heat that washed over him. He felt, rather than heard, Aragorn’s approach and knew that the man he loved was barely inches from his back. He flinched as his liege placed his strong hands upon his shoulders and ran them down to his waist. Boromir fought the gentle pressure of push and pull on his hips to make him turn. He could not face the man he loved. His heart was clouded with visions of those dark eyes laughing as the Elf’s cock plunged in and out of that precious mouth.
Aragorn let out a frustrated sigh before stepping in to embrace his love from behind. He felt him stiffen and try to pull away, but he held fast to his body, arms crossing his chest and belly, holding him tightly and nestling his face in the warm hair and neck before him. He inhaled deeply of Boromir’s musky scent and pressed himself to the firm body in front of him. But his lover was not to be comforted and wrenched himself away, throwing himself on the bed. Aragorn’s face clouded with worry as he watched his lover begin to sob into the pillows.
He let him be for a moment, knowing that the Tirithean would be shamed by this display of tears. He breathed deeply, calming himself and walked to the window to gaze out at the moonlight and stars. He did not see the shadowy form of Legolas perched within the greenery on the next balcony over. He would have been surprised to see the tears making tracks down the fair face. He only saw the stars and the moon and the peaceful valley, the lights in the trees as Elrond’s people sang in the night air of the fellowship and the courage of Hobbits and the coming of kings. He watched the fountain and waited for Boromir to finally speak to him.
*a few moments later*
Boromir felt the fit of sorrow pass and began to place the stones around his heart that would allow him to break things off with the future king. It would not do for the two of them to have any relationship like the one they currently shared. He also had to put aside the feelings his heart had found because of the betrayal. He was no woman, to have to accept his love taking any other lover than himself. He was a warrior, son of Denethor, Captain of the Outer Guard, future Steward of the White City and he would not shame his family with weakness. He was not destined to hold love in his heart and keep it. He would put away such foolish thoughts and do what he must. He would send this man away and be a true heir to his father.
Slowly, he raised himself from the bed, wiping his face with his hands. When he had straightened his clothing, he turned to find Aragorn standing at the lip of the balcony and staring out into the night. He saw him turn his head slightly, hearing the movements inside the room and then he turned. Boromir was struck by the passionate and loving gaze that beheld him. He stood and looked into those eyes for a long moment before he spoke.
"You must go. You cannot be here and we cannot be like this. We are leaders of men and have a grave responsibility. I am going with this fellowship to do what I can, but also to go home. And at the end, I will hope that you will bring your blade to the defense of the city to which you lay claim. Other than these things, there is nothing to be said between us. You should go now!"
He watched as pain shivered through his lover’s eyes. It almost broke his resolve, but again the unbidden images of Aragorn and Legolas at play in the dell turned his heart away and he hardened his resolve. He tensed as the Northerner approached him, catlike and reached out to touch his face. Boromir tensed and Aragorn’s hand fell, his eyes filling with a bleak look.
"I can see you are afraid and in your pride and fear you are rejecting me. But I won’t allow that to happen. I will do as you ask and hold back for this night, but I will not allow you to turn away. I will not let Arwen come between us, as I know that your concern in that quarter is just, but my love for her is not as my love for you. I have enough of me for both. And no other shall come between us. And if you will not make love with me tonight, then I will show you how you inspire me. How you inspire passion in me that no other does. And perhaps if I show my passion to you, then I can break down the barriers to your heart by appealing to your body. I know your body craves mine. Do you wish to see how much mine craves yours, my love?"
Boromir did not respond, but moved away to sit in his chair by the window again. He looked at the night sky for a moment before he spoke.
"Do as you wish. You will anyway. It affects me not. Do your duty and then go. I will not stop you either way." he said disdainfully, but with a tremble in his voice, for he knew how much his liege’s body appealed to him.
Aragorn took a deep breath and moved to sit on the end of the stone rail of the balcony, directly in Boromir’s line of sight. He rubbed the front of his leathers, outlining the bulge there. In a few moments, he began to harden and grow. Watching Boromir carefully from beneath lowered lashes, he undid his breeches and lowered them enough to expose his slightly turgid member. Shivering as the cool night air and his lovers chilly gaze brushed across his bare flesh, he wrapped one hand about his cock and began to massage it into full erectness. In a short time he was rigid and the tip gone rosy with his ministrations. He was now ready for the next phase of his act.
He rose from his perch on the railing and moved towards where Boromir sat. Standing before the dour Southerner he straddled his lap, hooking his legs over the arm rests and trapping his lover in place. His fully erect cock pointed up towards Boromir’s chin, it’s slight curved underside bumping against the sturdy man’s belly. Now, balancing carefully, with one hand clutching at the back of the chair and the other grasped firmly around himself, he began to stroke slowly at first and then increased his pace as his climax approached. He could feel a trembling in his lower limbs, but couldn’t tell if it was own arousal or his lover’s. Boromir had given no response so far, but Aragorn could see from the expression on his face that he was not unmoved by this erotic display. He could also see a tell-tale bulge in the pouch of the Tirithean’s leather’s so he knew that his self ministrations were not unnoticed nor unwanted. He allowed himself a small smile as he could almost feel the barrier’s breaking down between them again.
But he had little time for contemplation, as his orgasm was almost upon him. Faster and faster he pumped his shaft, the slap of his fist on his balls and the heavy rhythm of his breathing the only sounds in the room. Closer and closer he approached, then the familiar feeling of fullness and that trickle of fluid that preceded a full blown eruption began and then he was there. White, pearly gouts of sticky fluid shot from the now purple tip of his thick cock and bathed Boromir’s face with it’s trails. Aragorn kept jerking and pulling on himself, teasing the last drops from his pulsing testes, until a creamy sheen covered his lover’s face. But still Boromir did not respond except to close his eyes.
Spent from his exertions and with unreturned emotions, he finally tucked his softening member away inside his leathers and rose stiffly from the perch atop his lover’s lap. Staring down at the quiet man with whom he had just shared such heat he felt his heart cringe at the expressionless face he beheld. He waited for some kind of response but none came. With a lowering of his head, he marched towards the bathing room and filled the stone basin with cool water. His anger rising, he grabbed a soft cloth off the rail and soaked it in the basin. Then striding angrily from the room he stood once again before the man he loved and threw the cloth into his soiled face. Finally Boromir responded and began to wipe the cum away, but saying nothing until he was finished.
The dour Southerner looked up then at the man who had betrayed his heart and spoke.
"If you are done, then you had best go. There is nothing more between us." He said and pushed his way past and onto the balcony. He could feel the heat of Aragorn’s hurt and anger beat upon his back as he stared at the cool fountain waters below and clutched the dirtied cloth in his big hands.
"Then I will go. But know this. You may reject me, but I will always love you. There, I have said the words I know you long to hear. I love you above all others, even Arwen. She will one day be my wife, but you will always live in my heart. Think on that."
Then he turned on his heel and strode from the room, not caring who saw or heard his exit at such a late hour. Boromir stood at the railing and began to weep, letting the dirty wash cloth fall to the ground below, uncaring of who would find it and wonder. Legolas sat weeping in his hiding place, despair at Aragorn’s words and at his own actions filling his First-born heart.
THE END