Lord of the Rings Slash   

Title: In Accord
Author: Persephone
Pairing: Boromir/Faramir
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Faramir is now fifteen years old and wants to teach Boromir about patience.
Warning: Incest. Underage (Faramir is 15 years old).
A/N: Inspired by a drawing by E.W.

Boromir hurried down the white stone hallway towards his father’s rooms. It was mid-morning, and he had been looking for Faramir for hours. It was just a few minutes ago that a guard had told him Faramir was most likely in his father’s rooms.

The night before, he had turned over in his bed to find that Faramir had left, and the dent that had held him was cold. Boromir had gotten out of bed and, as was now habit, looked in on Faramir to make certain he was in fact in his own bed. He found him there, sleeping peacefully. Faramir was only fifteen, but he had already developed a sense of how to watch out for both of them.

But it also meant that he woke up every morning burning to get rough in Faramir’s heat. The only exception this morning was that his need seemed worse than it had been for a while.

Now as he strode down the hallway, that need was overshadowed by a panic he tried hard to quell. Denethor was presently in audience in the White Tower, so why would Faramir be in his rooms? It could only mean that his father had called Faramir in there this morning for another one of his talks, and had made Faramir stay there as punishment after he left.

Finally Boromir was pushing open the thick wooden door of the front room of his father’s chambers. He stepped inside and saw Faramir standing by the wide open balcony doors, leaning against Denethor’s large writing desk.

“Faramir…” he whispered across the room.

Faramir turned his head and looked at him. “Hello, brother,” he said, and smiled slowly.

Boromir’s heart bumped. The morning sunlight poured into the room, bathing his brother on its way in, turning strands of his black hair into midnight blue.

Faramir lifted his hand and beckoned to him. Boromir walked until he stood directly in front of his brother, his back to the balcony. He peered into Faramir’s face.

“I am fine,” Faramir smiled gently. His hand lifted and rested on Boromir’s chest. Then his fingers clenched slowly until he held a fistful of Boromir’s shirt. “He left a long time ago.”

“Then what are you still doing here?”

“Waiting for you.”

Boromir’s brows furrowed. “Why?”

Faramir shifted backwards until he sat on their father’s broad writing desk. He spread his legs and pulled Boromir into the space between them.

“Because early this morning I read a chapter in a book.”

He said nothing further, and Boromir asked thickly, “And what did your book say?”

Faramir shrugged. “A myriad of things.” He leaned back on his hands. “But I am one to decide for myself.”

Even as he vaguely wondered what kind of chapter in what kind of book his brother had studied, Faramir’s legs wrapped around his, and pulled him closer.

“This is dangerous, Faramir.”

“Aye.” Faramir stared up at him with shining eyes. “But not without purpose.”

“And the purpose being?”

Faramir smiled slowly at him. “It will come to you. But in the meantime, remove your shirt.”

Boromir's previous worry for Faramir’s well being vanished. And his need came charging back. He pulled his shirt off, thankful that their father’s room was far above the ground facing the east. No one could see.

“We will go slow,” Faramir said. Boromir nodded over and over. Faramir laughed and Boromir found himself staring at his brother’s beautiful face.

“We will,” Faramir insisted.

Boromir placed his hands on Faramir’s hips and pushed his shirt up over his head. He pulled it off. Then his hands slid back down to Faramir’s hips and as Faramir lifted himself he pulled his breeches off. Faramir’s cock sprang against his stomach.

“I read this morning,” Faramir whispered as he watched Boromir remove his own breeches, “that a good elder brother takes care of his younger brother.”

“Aye,” Boromir managed to say. He stepped out of his clothes and placed his hands on either side of Faramir’s body. He leaned forward and covered Faramir’s mouth with his, kissing him deeply.

Reaching between them with one hand, he swiped his finger over his wet tip and rubbed it on Faramir’s entrance. His brother moaned and lifted his feet unto the table. Now he was wide open for Boromir.

“And also that when brothers love each other few things in the world can match it. Do you think that is why—” he gasped heatedly as Boromir’s cock pushed into him, “—why this feels so good?”

Boromir heard himself grunt before he wrapped his arms around Faramir’s thighs and thrust deep.

“Boromir!” his brother cried out quietly and sank backwards, his eyes closing blissfully. As his back touched the smooth wooden desk he slid his feet off it. Boromir watched his face begin to glow and felt his ankles wrap around his waist.

“Who am I to you, Boromir,” Faramir whispered.

“You are my beloved brother,” he said hoarsely, struggling. It was not the time to speak… He pulled out to the tip of his cock and then thrust smoothly back in.

“Yes. Oh, yes, brother,” Faramir panted, gripping the edge of the table with one hand. “Now hold still.”

Boromir held still and shook with the effort. “Like this?” he asked, his voice trembling along with his body.

Faramir made no response in words, only sounds. His other hand hovered over his cock for a moment before it descended and his fingers scraped up its length. Boromir listened and watched, mesmerized.

Faramir was no longer a child, for his movements were assured to elicit his own pleasure, and the sounds he made in his throat were low and sensual. But nor was he yet a man, for when he cried out Boromir’s name it was with such sweet trust that a fierce need to protect him shot through Boromir.

He remember Faramir as a baby, as a little toddler, as a young boy, and yet he could not wonder how it had come to be that he was buried inside him as a lover.

He would do anything his brother asked. And he would do it to the best of his abilities. But he could no longer hold still.

“C- can I move, Faramir,” he hissed.

Faramir’s chin slowly lifted as his head fell back even farther. He began to scrape his fingers up his length, over and over, and his muscles began to clench rhythmically around Boromir. Boromir’s breath caught so that he could not even gasp aloud. Faramir's books had taught him something new.

“Pull out all the way to your tip,” Faramir panted softly. Boromir pulled out nearly all the way. “Tease me with it.”

Boromir’s stomach muscles clenched and stayed so, as he did his best and pumped the head of his cock in and out of Faramir’s heat.

“It sounds… good,” Faramir said between breaths. Boromir looked down at Faramir’s face, at the results of his efforts, and realized he was in trouble. Faramir was far gone, and he was bordering on pain.

“Faramir…” he pleaded.

“Oh yes, my brother,” Faramir was panting hard now, one hand gripping the table, the other slicked wet as it flew up and down his cock. Boromir realized to his surprise that Faramir was near his climax. “My wonderful… magnificent brother…”

Boromir whined. A moment later Faramir slid all the way down on his cock. Boromir let out a long ecstatic groan. He spread his legs wider and braced himself to move.

Faramir’s legs fell farther apart against his arms. “Hard, Boromir.”

Boromir pounded into him until the desk scraped across the stone floor. He was grunting hard, and Faramir was panting beautifully, for now, for the first time, they were in accord.

Boromir continually pulled Faramir’s body possessively against his, ran his hands over his thighs, daring anything and anyone to come between them.

Faramir cried out and his other hand clutched Boromir’s hip, and Boromir realized he had been speaking out loud. Faramir pumped his cock one last time and then pressed it up against Boromir’s stomach and spurted hard against him.

Boromir took one look at the bliss on his brother’s face and came inside him.

He collapsed on top of Faramir, and as they waited for their breathing to return to normal he found himself thinking that he must remember to shift Denethor’s writing table back to its former position.

Then it hit him like a sword hilt to the head what they had just risked in their father’s room. By the Valar, he was twenty and should know better, but he was afraid that he did not.

He thought of Faramir's words and still wondered at the purpose of this madness.

Whatever it was, he knew one thing for certain, he must take control and act more responsibly in the future. If not for his sake, then for Faramir’s.

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