When they awoke, it was to the softest whispering outside the shuttered windows, sound came muffled yet there was a brightness at the edges, so that Boromir knew what he would see on folding back the wood.
He had shrugged a loose robe about his shoulders, but when the shutter opened inwards, the crust of snow that had formed against the wood dropped wetly onto his bare feet. He jumped sideways, cursing and a soft chuckle sounded from behind him and the warmth of a bare arm wrapped about him and a hand snuck beneath the open robe to rest lightly on his hip.
Snow had fallen thickly in the night, was still falling from a leaden sky, but there was not a breath of wind and it landed where it fell, piling up in soft lumps on branch and roof, until its own weight carried it down with a dull thump to the ground.
The fruit trees fanned against the garden wall looked like an engraving in an old books, trunks and branches standing out blackly, whilst a-top each was a covering of the soft whiteness.
“It’s not weighing down any of the limbs long before falling,” Boromir said quietly, leaning into Aragorn’s embrace, “we should not lose too many branches broken.”
Lips nuzzled at the tender skin behind his ear and a slip of a tongue traced the curved edge, wet the skin and then hot breath dried it. Boromir grunted and let his head fall forward. The hand on his hip, fingers fluttered so that a half-laugh was wrung from him and a sigh as the thumb rubbed along the bone.
“Come to bed, love,” Aragorn murmured, between kisses to the nape of his neck. “We have time enough.”
And then when he did not immediately reply, whispered in his ear, “We can play Eomer’s Game…”
There was a snort of laughter from Boromir.
“And have you wake the household?”
He turned in the loose embrace and caught Aragorn within the compass of his arms, cocks slipping together, hot and hard, so that a groan was wrenched from Aragorn, his head thrown back and they swayed momentarily, drunk on the feeling until they came to rest, foreheads touching.
Boromir’s eyes were closed. He could feel Aragorn’s breath on his mouth and when Aragorn spoke, the sound vibrated in his head.
“How can I please you?”
Boromir could hear the teasing promise in Aragorn’s words and opened his eyes. His nose was filled with the earthy musk of arousal, but at his groin he felt the throb of blood matched and he fought the urge to grind against Aragorn’s belly, instead carefully planting a cold wet foot a-top one of Aragorn‘s who wrenched himself free, spluttering with laughter.
Boromir enjoyed quietly for a moment the sight of his man naked, hopping around, one foot in hand, his cock bouncing in the morning air, and then went to fetch a cloth to dry them.
When he returned Aragorn was raking the ashes in the grate to find some hot enough to place more fuel to. As he passed the window, Boromir pulled the shutter closed and the last the little brown birds sat on the vine branches saw, was him kneeling to dry his man’s feet.
-oo0oo-
Summary: Aragorn and Boromir take a snow-day.
Rated: R
Categories: LOTR FPS Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 557 Read: 801
Published: 17 Feb 2010 Updated: 17 Feb 2010
Story Notes:
DISCLAIMER: "These characters originate with their copyright holders. I borrow them for entertainment, not profit."