FIC: Consideration for caras_galadhon (LotR, Aragorn/Boromir)
Fic: Consideration
Author: savageseraph
Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir
Rating: NC-17
For: caras_galadhon
Notes: Replacement Fic. for the sons_of_gondor Halloween fic exchange. Written for caras_galadhon who asked for the following one night a very long time ago: Oooh! Maybe something along the lines of Steward and King being at odds over something military or political, resulting in Growly&Grouchy!Boromir? Which of course results in Growly&GrouchyYetFond!Sex? Where at least the hurt feelings are resolved at the end? Bonus points if you can set up the dispute and sex as reflective of each other, double points if while Elessar wins out over Boromir in the public, political arena, Boromir wins out over Elessar in the private? Or is all that too smooshy?
Boromir waited until his newly appointed lieutenant left the King’s private study before he turned to Aragorn and said, “You know I oppose this.”
Aragorn nodded. “I do.”
“And yet you still go ahead with it as if my concerns mean nothing.” Boromir raked his fingers through his hair. “The boy is too young.”
“I did not dismiss your concerns.” Aragorn poured wine into two goblets. “I listened and considered them and decided against them.” He offered a goblet to Boromir, and when the gesture and the cup were ignored, he placed one glass back on his desk. “Our troops were hit hard during the battle. We have to begin rebuilding and the young are hungry and eager to learn.”
Boromir shook his head, paced. He stopped and looked Aragorn in the eye. “I thought we agreed on this.”
The hint of a smile curved Aragorn’s lips; a hint of satisfaction tinged his words. “I know.”
A rush of anger tightened Boromir’s body, twisted in his chest. King. Lover. The bonds between them had grown more tangled since Aragorn claimed the throne. “I will not bend to you in all things.”
“No.” Aragorn didn’t even bother to fight the smile as it ripened into a grin. “Surely not in all things.”
Boromir growled, a soft, dangerous sound. He grabbed the goblet from Aragorn’s desk, downed it in several swallows. He shed his surcoat, tossing it over the back of a chair before very deliberately latching the door. “Strip.”
Perhaps it was the tone, perhaps the command itself that made Aragorn blink, but his surprise faded as quickly as it kindled. He laughed.
That wouldn’t do. Boromir gripped Aragorn’s upper arms, shaking him a little and sloshing wine over Aragorn’s hand and clothes. “I said to strip.” A pause then as he raised one hand to Aragorn’s jaw and ran his fingertips along it. “Unless you would like me to consider how uncomfortably you will be sitting for days if I shove you up against the wall and fuck you with nothing but spit to ease my way.”
Aragorn’s eyes went wide as Boromir spoke, though he did not try to shrug off Boromir’s hold. Slowly, his eyes drifted closed at Boromir’s touch. The half-full goblet slipped from his hands, clattered against the floor.
Leaning closer, Boromir brushed his lips back and forth across Aragorn’s until he could feel his lover’s breath grow more ragged. When Aragorn moaned softly, Boromir released him. “Strip.”
Boromir poured himself another glass of wine, sipping it slowly as Aragorn shed his clothes in an untidy pile. “Kneel.”
Aragorn's smile was more than slightly smug as he knelt. He met Boromir’s gaze as he wet his lips. "Have you considered how to best make use of my talents and enthusiasm?”
“I have.” Boromir laughed softly, dipped two fingers into his wine, and rubbed them across Aragorn’s lips. “I have.” He leaned back to open one of the desk drawers and retrieved a vial of oil, which he offered to Aragorn. “Prepare yourself for me.”
Aragorn blinked, then stared at the vial in Boromir’s hand.
Boromir chuckled as he unlaced his breeches, freed his cock. He sighed as he stroked himself lightly. “Or don’t,” he said with a soft growl, “if you want to dismiss my concern about what the guards outside will think when I make you scream.”
Aragorn exhaled heavily, took the vial. “I…” He swallowed heavily and then popped the cork, letting the oil coat his fingers.
“Hmmm.” Boromir nodded approvingly. “You can take sound advice. But only when it suits you, it seems.” He knelt, placed a hand on Aragorn’s shoulder and pushed him down.
Aragorn slipped two fingers inside without ceremony, and Boromir grabbed his wrist, holding his hand still. “You should consider that I won’t fuck you, not until you are ready. I trust you know what I mean, Ranger.” He squeezed Aragorn’s wrist, then released it.
Aragorn exhaled a ragged sigh, fingers thrusting slowly at first as Boromir stroked his back, then with increasing urgency as Boromir’s lips and tongue and teeth drew soft, needy moans from him. He bit down on his own wrist to muffle a cry.
When Aragorn began shivering despite the sweat on his skin, Boromir brushed his hand aside and pressed into him in a single fluid thrust. He groaned as Aragorn tightened around him.
“You should consider that someone could knock on that door any time.” The words tumbled out of Aragorn’s mouth in a breathless rush.
Boromir nipped at the back of Aragorn’s neck. “Time enough for me to make my point.” He pressed hard into Aragorn at the last word, rolled his hips, and bit down hard on his lip as Aragorn bit down on a cry and gripped him hard.
Time enough. Time enough. Boromir clung to those words as he began moving, clung to them until they melted way, as lost as he was lost in his lover’s heat.
Author: savageseraph
Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir
Rating: NC-17
For: caras_galadhon
Notes: Replacement Fic. for the sons_of_gondor Halloween fic exchange. Written for caras_galadhon who asked for the following one night a very long time ago: Oooh! Maybe something along the lines of Steward and King being at odds over something military or political, resulting in Growly&Grouchy!Boromir? Which of course results in Growly&GrouchyYetFond!Sex? Where at least the hurt feelings are resolved at the end? Bonus points if you can set up the dispute and sex as reflective of each other, double points if while Elessar wins out over Boromir in the public, political arena, Boromir wins out over Elessar in the private? Or is all that too smooshy?
Boromir waited until his newly appointed lieutenant left the King’s private study before he turned to Aragorn and said, “You know I oppose this.”
Aragorn nodded. “I do.”
“And yet you still go ahead with it as if my concerns mean nothing.” Boromir raked his fingers through his hair. “The boy is too young.”
“I did not dismiss your concerns.” Aragorn poured wine into two goblets. “I listened and considered them and decided against them.” He offered a goblet to Boromir, and when the gesture and the cup were ignored, he placed one glass back on his desk. “Our troops were hit hard during the battle. We have to begin rebuilding and the young are hungry and eager to learn.”
Boromir shook his head, paced. He stopped and looked Aragorn in the eye. “I thought we agreed on this.”
The hint of a smile curved Aragorn’s lips; a hint of satisfaction tinged his words. “I know.”
A rush of anger tightened Boromir’s body, twisted in his chest. King. Lover. The bonds between them had grown more tangled since Aragorn claimed the throne. “I will not bend to you in all things.”
“No.” Aragorn didn’t even bother to fight the smile as it ripened into a grin. “Surely not in all things.”
Boromir growled, a soft, dangerous sound. He grabbed the goblet from Aragorn’s desk, downed it in several swallows. He shed his surcoat, tossing it over the back of a chair before very deliberately latching the door. “Strip.”
Perhaps it was the tone, perhaps the command itself that made Aragorn blink, but his surprise faded as quickly as it kindled. He laughed.
That wouldn’t do. Boromir gripped Aragorn’s upper arms, shaking him a little and sloshing wine over Aragorn’s hand and clothes. “I said to strip.” A pause then as he raised one hand to Aragorn’s jaw and ran his fingertips along it. “Unless you would like me to consider how uncomfortably you will be sitting for days if I shove you up against the wall and fuck you with nothing but spit to ease my way.”
Aragorn’s eyes went wide as Boromir spoke, though he did not try to shrug off Boromir’s hold. Slowly, his eyes drifted closed at Boromir’s touch. The half-full goblet slipped from his hands, clattered against the floor.
Leaning closer, Boromir brushed his lips back and forth across Aragorn’s until he could feel his lover’s breath grow more ragged. When Aragorn moaned softly, Boromir released him. “Strip.”
Boromir poured himself another glass of wine, sipping it slowly as Aragorn shed his clothes in an untidy pile. “Kneel.”
Aragorn's smile was more than slightly smug as he knelt. He met Boromir’s gaze as he wet his lips. "Have you considered how to best make use of my talents and enthusiasm?”
“I have.” Boromir laughed softly, dipped two fingers into his wine, and rubbed them across Aragorn’s lips. “I have.” He leaned back to open one of the desk drawers and retrieved a vial of oil, which he offered to Aragorn. “Prepare yourself for me.”
Aragorn blinked, then stared at the vial in Boromir’s hand.
Boromir chuckled as he unlaced his breeches, freed his cock. He sighed as he stroked himself lightly. “Or don’t,” he said with a soft growl, “if you want to dismiss my concern about what the guards outside will think when I make you scream.”
Aragorn exhaled heavily, took the vial. “I…” He swallowed heavily and then popped the cork, letting the oil coat his fingers.
“Hmmm.” Boromir nodded approvingly. “You can take sound advice. But only when it suits you, it seems.” He knelt, placed a hand on Aragorn’s shoulder and pushed him down.
Aragorn slipped two fingers inside without ceremony, and Boromir grabbed his wrist, holding his hand still. “You should consider that I won’t fuck you, not until you are ready. I trust you know what I mean, Ranger.” He squeezed Aragorn’s wrist, then released it.
Aragorn exhaled a ragged sigh, fingers thrusting slowly at first as Boromir stroked his back, then with increasing urgency as Boromir’s lips and tongue and teeth drew soft, needy moans from him. He bit down on his own wrist to muffle a cry.
When Aragorn began shivering despite the sweat on his skin, Boromir brushed his hand aside and pressed into him in a single fluid thrust. He groaned as Aragorn tightened around him.
“You should consider that someone could knock on that door any time.” The words tumbled out of Aragorn’s mouth in a breathless rush.
Boromir nipped at the back of Aragorn’s neck. “Time enough for me to make my point.” He pressed hard into Aragorn at the last word, rolled his hips, and bit down hard on his lip as Aragorn bit down on a cry and gripped him hard.
Time enough. Time enough. Boromir clung to those words as he began moving, clung to them until they melted way, as lost as he was lost in his lover’s heat.