Title: Conquering a King  
Author: Aphrodite (psychokitty0524@aol.com)  
Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir  
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Aragorn wants to stop Boromir from resenting him, and gets 
more than he bargained for in the process.  
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien.  I have no 
claim to them whatsoever (unfortunately). ;)  
Warnings: None  
 
 
 
Chapter 1  
 
"We should camp here for the night."  
 
Boromir glanced with irritation at the tall dark-haired man who had 
spoken.  It was not so much the words themselves, but the tone in the 
Ranger's voice that irked him.  It did not have the sound of a suggestion, 
but more the sharper edge of a command.  
 
The idea that soon this man may indeed command him made Boromir's 
irritation deepen into something like anger.  Ever since the Elf prince had 
spoken at the Council of Elrond and proclaimed that the disheveled man 
seated among them was the rightful ruler of Gondor, the sting of that 
proclamation had festered within him until it felt like it was poisoning his 
very heart.    
 
His family for past generations immemorial had been the keepers of the 
great White City.  It had been tended to and nurtured through his line until 
it stood as the bastion of hope and pride for all mankind.  Now it was 
Boromir's job to keep the realm of Gondor safe from the forces of 
darkness that threatened them always now from the east, just beyond the 
Ephel Duath. As Captain-General, it was he that commanded the might of 
Gondor, and his father, the Steward, was the one who oversaw all.  
 
Now, right at the moment when Gondor could either be facing their 
greatest triumph or their blackest despair, the supposed heir of Isildur and 
descendant of the Kings of old decided to make his appearance.  Boromir 
cast another stony glance at the Ranger, as the other man stood gazing 
around at their surroundings, his dark hair blowing in the chilly eastern 
breeze that blew down from the Misty Mountains far ahead of them.    
 
They had only been traveling for two days since they had taken their leave 
of Elrond and his folk back in Rivendell.  Their progress had been steady, 
with only brief pauses for a bit of rest and some hastily eaten food before 
pressing on again.  Now they were nearing the foothills of the Mountains, 
and the sun had started to sink low in the sky, lengthening their shadows 
out ahead of them before the Ranger had called a halt.  
 
Now the Company had begun to make camp for the night.  As Boromir 
sank down on the ground with a sigh, he looked slowly around at his 
traveling companions. The Dwarf and one of the Halflings were busy 
rummaging through the packs slung onto the back of the pony.  The two 
younger Halflings sat side-by-side, talking cheerfully to each other.  Just 
watching them made Boromir smile, forgetting his own cares for a brief 
moment.  He had been very skeptical of the Council's decision to allow 
these two little ones to join the Fellowship.  He thought they would prove 
to be a nuisance more than anything else.  He was quite surprised to find, 
however, that they were exactly the opposite.  They lightened his heart at 
times when Boromir thought such a thing would be impossible, and he had 
already grown to be quite fond of them.  
 
As his eyes shifted, however, his moment of peace was broken as he 
noticed that the Ranger was now looking at him with a cool, measuring 
stare.  He almost seemed to be appraising the other man.  Boromir felt 
himself bristle with resentment.  It was the same sort of feeling that had 
come over him back in Rivendell when he had first encountered the 
Ranger, staring at him in this exact same fashion from the shadows. 
 However, this time what he felt was not totally resentment.  A warm flush 
seemed to momentarily encompass his entire body as he stared back at the 
Ranger.  Quickly, he averted his eyes, temporarily flustered.  He was 
amazed and disgusted with himself as he realized that he had actually 
started to get an erection from this incident.  
 
Obviously you are overtired, he thought to himself.  Best for you to get 
some rest and recover your wits.    
 
Cautiously, he peered at the Ranger from the corner of his eye and gave a 
silent sigh of relief when he saw that the other man had ceased staring at 
him and was now in a group with Gandalf, Legolas, and Frodo, the 
Halfling that was carrying the Ring.  They all seemed deep in conversation 
about something. Boromir knew he really should get up and go over there 
to see what they were discussing, but after that strange moment that just 
occured with the Ranger, it seemed better for the time being to stay put. 
 He watched surreptiously, however, when the Ranger and the Elf broke 
off from the group to wander a little ways away, talking quietly together 
and standing...in Boromir's opinion, anyway...closer together than 
necessary.    
 
Dismayed, Boromir realized he was actually feeling a little sting of 
jealousy at watching Legolas conversing so intimately with the Ranger. 
 But once acknowledged, Boromir could not deny that his emotion was 
genuine. When Legolas casually laid his hand on the Ranger's shoulder, 
Boromir felt a pang in his gut that was almost akin to longing.    
 
Oh, for the Valar's sake, stop this!  Boromir's mind railed at him for these 
completely uncharacteristic thoughts.  Especially about one that was trying 
to usurp his family's position in the city they had ruled and defended for so 
long.  He concentrated on his anger and resentment against the Ranger, 
almost embracing those feelings.  Feelings such as these were familiar to 
him, he felt safe in his anger, and was protected from those alien thoughts 
that had never before entered his mind.  At least never in connection with 
another man.  
 
His resolve quickly crumbled, however, when the Ranger suddenly sat 
down beside him.  Boromir looked at him, startled.  He had been so 
engrossed in his thoughts that he had not even heard the other man 
approach.  Then he quickly looked away as the Ranger began to speak to 
him.  
 
"You seem troubled.  Are you all right?"  
 
"Yes, I am fine, Aragorn," Boromir replied, trying to sound confident and 
failing miserably.  "I am just taking some time to think of where our road 
will lead us next."  
 
He slowly looked at the dark-haired man beside him, who was blessedly 
looking down at the ground at the moment.  Boromir noticed that a stray 
lock of Aragorn's hair was laying against his cheek, and he suddenly felt 
an almost overwhelming desire to sweep it back behind the man's ear.  His 
fingers actually twitched at the thought, and he clenched his hands tightly 
together in front of him in frustration at his own weakness.  
 
"It is hard to say where our travels will take us," Aragorn said pensively, 
looking out over the landscape to the east, his eyes sweeping the horizon 
restlessly.  Boromir watched him, not speaking, ready to look away if the 
Ranger suddenly turned his eyes onto him.  
 
However, when Aragorn did indeed look at Boromir again, Boromir found 
he could not tear his gaze away this time.  The piercing blue depths of the 
Ranger's eyes caught and held him, and he could only stare back 
helplessly, his own green eyes widening slightly.  
 
"Boromir..." Aragorn said hesitantly.  "I do not wish for you to go on 
harboring ill feelings toward me.  I never desired to make an enemy of 
you."  
 
Boromir looked down at the ground, tearing himself away from that 
hypnotic gaze.  "Nor do I wish to be your enemy, Aragorn.  I only want 
what is best for my land and my people, as my family has always tried to 
provide."  
 
"Of course," Aragorn agreed quietly.  "And I, too, will ensure that Gondor 
retains the greatness it holds now.  Our aims are the same."  
 
Boromir looked at the other man again, a touch of annoyance entering his 
tone as he said firmly, "No, our aims are not the same.  Ever since I was a 
child, my place has been with the armies of Minus Tirith, training for the 
day when I would lead them into battle against our enemies.  Countless 
hours spent in the city's defence, and countless friends lost along the way." 
   
 
He paused, looking down at the ground again, his voice becoming husky 
with emotion as he continued.  "You have no idea, Aragorn, of the blood, 
sweat, and tears that have gone into making Gondor the wonder it is today, 
shed by me, my brother, my father, and our forefathers of generations past. 
 I live for nothing like I live for glory of Gondor.  It is my whole reason 
for existing."    
 
Now anger touched his tone as he leveled his gaze at Aragorn again, 
saying, "Where have you spent your life, Ranger?  Hiding amongst the 
Elves and wandering the wilds like a vagabond while my family kept 
house for you?   So that you could come to Gondor in all your kingly glory 
and reclaim your throne?  How very convenient.  But where were you and 
your royal descendants when Minus Tirith faced peril in the past?  Were 
you out on the battlefield, fighting for your city?  Were any of you?"  
 
Boromir stopped, breathing heavily, not even realizing in his flash of rage 
that tears had filled his eyes.  With a hiss of frustration, he swiped his 
hand across his eyes, wiping the tears away.  He shivered suddenly, 
wrapping his cloak more firmly around his shoulders as he looked away 
from Aragorn, trying to bring his swirl of emotions under control.    
 
For a long moment, there was silence between the two men.  Boromir 
could hear the slow, steady rhythm of the Ranger's breathing as he sat 
motionless beside him.  Carefully, Boromir moved his head enough so he 
could study Aragorn from the corner of his eye.  He saw that the other 
man was sitting with his head bowed, his eyes tearless, yet filled with a 
measure of sorrow.  
 
Finally, Aragorn spoke.  "You are right, my friend.  I have done naught to 
show that I am deserving of my station or my heritage.  I have lived in fear 
of my destiny for a long time, and I have spent many, many years trying to 
come to terms with who I am and what is expected of me."  
 
He paused and looked at Boromir, his gaze again drawing that of the other 
man so that they stared at one another as Aragorn continued to speak, "I 
have only one thing to say, Son of Gondor...and that is to tell you that 
even when I do assume the throne, I will not lightly brush aside the debt 
that Gondor owes to her line of Stewards.  I, and no one else in the realm, 
will be allowed to forget the services that your family has provided over 
the centuries."  
 
Suddenly, Aragorn reached forward, clasping the shoulders of the other 
man pulling him closer to look intently into his eyes.  Boromir allowed 
this, his breath almost ceasing at the sudden nearness of the Ranger.  With 
his voice lowered to a murmur, Aragorn said earnestly, "You and your 
forefathers are Gondor, Boromir.  You are the living, beating heart of that 
great realm.  I will never forget that."  
 
As suddenly as Aragorn had grasped the man before him, he now released 
him just as suddenly, rising to his feet and walking away toward the 
opposite side of the camp.  Boromir watched him go, his brow furrowed in 
confusion.  This was not how he had expected Aragorn to be.  He expected 
the future King to grow impatient or even angered at Boromir's harsh 
words.  The Gondorian soldier did not at all anticipate the Ranger berating 
himself even as he praised the deeds of Boromir's family.    
 
Wondering now if he had been too quick and too harsh in his judgement of 
Aragorn, Boromir continued to watch him as he stooped beside the little 
ones, Merry and Pippin, and engaged them in some light conversation.  As 
he watched the Ranger break into a smile at something one of the 
Halflings said, Boromir could not help but smile himself.  Witnessing that 
rare expression appear on Aragorn's normally stern face was almost like 
watching the sun appear after the sky has been shrouded by clouds all day. 
 As he let his gaze travel over Aragorn's rugged features, the expressive 
blue eyes, the lean, lithe body, he could not help but feel that warmth 
overcome his skin again.  This time, however, he did not attempt to fight 
the sensation.  He felt the familiar twitching in his groin that signified that 
his member was stiffening yet again, and he closed his eyes as a sigh 
escaped his lips.    
 
Suddenly, against the darkness of his closed eyelids, he saw, unbidden, an 
image of Aragorn kneeling before him, taking his manhood deep in his 
throat as those amazing eyes stared worshipfully up at Boromir.    
 
Boromir shuddered and opened his eyes, a faint blush coming to his face 
as he quickly looked around to see if anyone had observed him.  No one 
apparently had, but he saw Aragorn shoot him a glance all the same, as if 
he knew exactly what had just gone through Boromir's mind.    
 
And I would not be a bit surprised if he did know, Boromir thought to 
himself.  
 
******

Chapter 2  
 
The camp was silent.  
 
Everyone had found a clear patch of ground and were now sound asleep. 
 The only sounds were the crickets singing in the grasses, the crackling of 
the fire, and the light snores from certain members of the Company.    
 
Only Legolas stayed awake, as he had offered to keep watch this night, 
claiming he was not fatigued enough to sleep this night.  With his Elvin 
ability to forego sleep for long periods of time, his offer was quickly and 
eagerly accepted by his fellow travelers.    
 
Sometime in the night, Boromir suddenly started awake. His instincts as a 
soldier told him that something had invaded his consciousness enough to 
bring him to wakefulness, but now the silence and stillness around him 
gave no clue as to what that something could have been.    
 
Still going by instinct, he reached out for the comforting hilt of his sword 
that lay nearby, straining both his eyes and his ears to catch the slightest 
sign of movement around him.    
 
Suddenly, he heard the deliberate grating of a footstep nearby.  He knew 
by the sound of it that it was made by a booted foot, and therefore could 
not be one of the Halflings.    
 
"Legolas?" he whispered, knowing almost as soon as the name left his lips 
that it was not the tread of the Elf he heard either.  Mainly because the 
Elf's tread could not be heard.  He could have stood right over Boromir 
and never awakened the man.    
 
Feeling quite unnerved now, Boromir licked his lips and peered into the 
darkness beyond the dim flickering circle of light thrown by the campfire. 
 Now he fancied that he could discern a shape that slowly detached itself 
from the other shadows and moved toward him.  There was another 
footstep, and then another...  
 
And then Boromir pulled his sword from its scabbard in one smooth 
motion and held it out in front of him, pointed menacingly at the 
approaching figure.  
 
"Come not nearer until I hear you speak," Boromir demanded, pitching his 
voice low so as not to alarm the others sleeping nearby.  At the same time, 
he wondered why Legolas, with his keen Elvin senses, had not noticed the 
approach of this intruder.  Then worry followed wonder as he thought of 
the possibility that this unknown figure had already done some grave harm 
to the fair Elf, rendering him unable to warn his companions.  
 
The figure stood quietly, stopping its approach, and Boromir could swear 
that he detected the steady sound of the being's respiration.  Then, in a 
husky whisper eloquent of amusement, the figure spoke,  
 
"You are the quintessential Captain of the Guard, my friend.  Even startled 
from sleep and half-reclined, you look absolutely magnificent."  
 
Boromir lowered his weapon as he rasped, "Aragorn?"  
 
Now the figure walked closer, revealing itself in the campfire's light.  The 
blue eyes flashed with a mix of amusement and something else that 
Boromir could not quite define as they gazed upon the alert warrior.  
 
"Aragorn...why do you wander the camp at this time of the night?" 
Boromir asked, confused.  He turned his head briefly to resheathe his 
sword before turning back to look up at the man standing before him.  
 
Aragorn sighed, the amusement now leaving his eyes and being replaced 
with a light sorrow.  That other something was still in them as well, the 
something that for some reason was causing Boromir's heart to quicken 
slightly.    
 
"I find rest is eluding me tonight," Aragorn replied.  He stooped down 
beside the other man, looking at him intently.  "Our conversation earlier 
has me troubled.  I fear that you see me only as man who wishes to 
dominate over all, when that is not the way of it at all."  
 
Boromir sat up, wrapping his arms around his knees and looking down as 
Aragorn continued to speak.  
 
"I wish to be a leader for Gondor, but I do not wish to be a leader who 
would assume absolute power.  Gondor and its people would rule me as 
much as I rule them, as it should be."  Now he turned his gaze completely 
on Boromir, and reached over take the other man's arm in a light grasp, 
causing Boromir to look back at him.  "And that would include you, most 
of all, Son of Gondor.  I may ultimately be your liege-lord, but I also wish 
for you to have power over me."  
 
Now Boromir understood completely what that mysterious something in 
Aragorn's eyes was.  It was desire.  Desire for Boromir.  The Gondorian 
soldier shuddered, his lips parting unconsciously in surprise, yet the rapid 
hardening he was experiencing in his breeches forced him to act. 
 Tentatively, he reached out to run the back of his fingers down the 
Ranger's stubbled cheek, feeling the coarse hairs lightly scratching his 
skin.  His green eyes were alight with wonder as they alternated from 
Aragorn's eyes to the movement of his fingers along the other man's 
jawline.  He licked his lips nervously, unaware of how enticing he looked 
as he did this.  
 
He became aware of it, however, when Aragorn suddenly leaned forward, 
capturing Boromir's mouth in a heated kiss.  With a muffled sound of 
combined surprise and desire, Boromir responded by opening his mouth to 
Aragorn's probing tongue, meeting it with his own as his hands came up to 
bury themselves in the dark waves of the Ranger's hair.    
 
Now that Boromir's passions were being fully awakened, he was able to 
start assuming the dominant role that Aragorn so desired of him.  The 
soldier's kisses grew more insistent, sucking on and nibbling at the other 
man's lips with a frenzied hunger.  Boromir pushed himself up to his 
knees, then used his hands, still buried in Aragorn's hair, to force the 
Ranger's head back to give Boromir access to the smooth, tanned column 
of his throat.  He attacked the vunerable flesh ruthlessly, lips and tongue 
and teeth working every inch of it.  It was all Aragorn could do not to cry 
out with combined lust and pain as Boromir sucked greedily at side of his 
neck, leaving a dark bruise, a glaring reminder of who had conquered 
whom this night.  
 
"You are mine, Ranger," Boromir snarled into Aragorn's ear, his voice 
brutal with passion.  Aragorn took the words as one would take a caress, 
moaning softly and clutching at Boromir's back, trying to pull the other 
man closer to his body.    
 
Boromir paused for a moment, letting his finger trail over the fastenings of 
the Ranger's tunic in a deceptively gentle fashion.    
 
"Do you have more than one of these in your pack?" Boromir asked, 
almost casually.  
 
Faintly trembling with desire, Aragorn nodded, his eyes never leaving 
Boromir's face.  
 
With that, Boromir suddenly grabbed the front of Aragorn's tunic in both 
fists and with one violent gesture tore the garment open, hooks and 
fastenings and laces all popping off in various directions.  Aragorn gasped 
at the roughness of his partner, his blue eyes growing dark with almost 
insane lust.  Wordlessly, he let the ruined garment slip from his arms to 
land on the ground behind him.  
 
Boromir did not waste any time in divesting himself of his own 
cumbersome clothing, carelessly tossing the heavy garments in a pile until 
he was clad only in his breeches.  Then he embraced Aragorn again and 
drew him in for another rough kiss, forcing the Ranger's lips open and 
raping his mouth with his tongue.  Aragorn moaned and pressed his body 
firmly against Boromir's as his hands stroked the firm muscles of the 
soldier's chest and shoulders.    
 
Boromir could feel the Ranger's hardness pressing against his own, with 
only the thin cloth of their breeches seperating them.  Without ceasing his 
plundering of the Ranger's mouth, he began to move his hips slowly, 
rubbing the length of his erection up and down the prominent bulge in 
Aragorn's breeches.  This was almost too much, for both Aragorn and 
Boromir barely stifled loud groans of pleasure at the sensation this caused. 
 Boromir did not stop, however.  He used his iron will to keep control over 
his raging body as he continued to tease the Ranger unmercifully, until 
Aragorn was shivering and biting his lower lip in an attempt to hold in the 
vocal responses to Boromir's ministrations.    
 
"Boromir......Oh Gods....." Aragorn moaned as quietly as he could, his 
voice thick with need.    
 
Boromir sensed that Aragorn would not be able to hold out against this 
treatment for too much longer, and with the delicious friction that he had 
created, he knew his release would not be too long in coming either.  So 
with a small pang of regret, he stopped rocking his hips and instead began 
to tug at the lacings that held the Ranger's breeches closed.  Soon, he was 
able to slide that final piece of Aragorn's clothing down and allow the 
body of his future King to now be totally exposed to his lustful scrutiny.    
 
He gazed at his prize, his green eyes sparkling as brightly as the stone in 
the Ring of Barahir that Aragorn wore on his left hand.  The Ranger's 
body was absolutely beautiful, and it was all his for the taking tonight. 
 Boromir felt his own erection grow even harder still at that thought.  
 
Just then, however, he was distracted as one of the Halflings murmured in 
his sleep a little distance away from them.  He was brought back to the 
reality of the situation that there were seven other beings here that could 
awaken and see them in the midst of their carnal acts.  He stood, slipping 
out of his own breeches, noticing with amusement and approval as 
Aragorn's eyes widened at the sight of Boromir's body fully revealed, and 
the impressive size of his straining erection.  Boromir extended a hand to 
Aragorn, pulling the other man to his feet beside him.  
 
"We cannot do this here," Boromir whispered. "Come on."  With that, he 
grabbed up his fur-lined cloak and led Aragorn away from the camp until 
they came to grassy area behind a few large boulders.  Boromir spread his 
cloak out on the ground and sank down on it, pulling Aragorn down beside 
him.  Even though the moon had appeared from behind the clouds that had 
earlier shrouded it, the dim light it cast barely illuminated the blackness of 
the night, so that the two men who now entwined together on the ground 
became moving shadows in the dark.  
 
Boromir devoured Aragorn's mouth as he eased the Ranger down on his 
back. He lay close beside the other man, letting Aragorn feel the heat and 
hardness of his erection as he pressed it against the Ranger's hip.  He let 
his hand slide down Aragorn's lean torso, briefly taking hold of the man's 
erection, causing Aragorn to moan into his mouth and push his hips 
upward into Boromir's hand with unrestrained eagerness.  Just as quickly, 
however, Boromir released the hot column of flesh and slid his hand 
lower, slipping underneath his lover's body.    
 
"Bend your legs and spread them open, my Lovely," Boromir murmured, 
his deep voice a seductive purr as he dipped his head to run the tip of his 
tongue lightly over the hollow of Aragorn's throat.  The muscular body 
beside him shivered appreciatively as he moved his legs as Boromir 
requested.    
 
Now Boromir lifted his hand and pressed his index finger to Aragorn's 
lips, encouraging him to open his mouth.  Aragorn complied, eagerly 
sucking on the offered digit, his tongue lashing over it in a way that 
caused Boromir to close his eyes briefly, an audible sigh of delight 
escaping his lips.  With reluctance, he removed his finger from the 
Ranger's mouth and moved his hand down between his lover's legs, where 
he began to probe and poke gently at the tight entrance to Aragorn's body. 
 As he breached the outer ring of muscle, he felt Aragorn tense against 
him, and at the same time felt the Ranger push against his intruding finger, 
trying to take more of it into himself.  
 
Boromir smiled in the darkness.  Evidently his future liege-lord was not 
inexperienced in the matters of male coupling.  To test this theory, he 
inserted a second finger alongside the first, stretching the tight orifice even 
more.  Aragorn gave a gutteral moan, his hands sliding over Boromir's 
collarbone to his shoulders and finally tangling amongst the silken blonde 
strands of his hair.  Again, he wriggled against Boromir's hand, 
encouraging Boromir to add yet another finger.  Now he could sense more 
tension in Aragorn's body and a little more labor to his breathing as he was 
stretched ever wider.    
 
Pushing well inside his lover's body, Boromir let his fingers rub against 
the spot that he knew would drive Aragorn insane with lust.  He was not 
disappointed as his lover reacted immediately, letting loose with a deep, 
beautiful moan that caused Boromir's erection to start leaking a bit of fluid 
at the very sound of it.  With a trembling sigh, he pulled his fingers back a 
bit, then pushed them forward into that same spot again.  He did this 
repeatedly, making love to Aragorn with his fingers as the Ranger writhed 
and moaned beneath his ministrations, his entire body breaking into sweat 
despite the chill in the night air.  His hands pulled almost painfully at 
Boromir's hair, but Boromir did not encourage him to let go.    
 
"You like this, do you?" Boromir asked, the smile on his face evident in 
his voice.  Aragorn responded with another groan of pleasure, his hips 
rising and falling in response to the thrusting of Boromir's hand.  Boromir 
bent to gnaw enthusiastically at the Ranger's neck again, resisting 
Aragorn's attempts to draw him into another kiss.  The Gondorian soldier 
was enjoying the uncurbed sounds of passion coming from his lover much 
too well to smother them with his lips.    
 
Finally, when Aragorn began to shudder all over, his back drawing as tight 
as a bowstring and his moans taking on a much more desperate note, 
Boromir knew that he would have to cease before he pushed the Ranger 
completely over the edge, as he sensed that the other man's climax was 
imminent.  So, with obvious reluctance, he withdrew his fingers, causing 
Aragorn's eyes to fly open and a whimper of frustration to burst from him. 
 He tried to struggle up into a sitting position, but Boromir covered the 
Ranger with his own upper body, keeping Aragorn pinned to the ground, 
where his trembled helplessly, his eyes wide with desperation.    
 
"Boromir?  Why do you cease?" Aragorn demanded between panting 
breaths.  "Please...I need..."  
 
"Shhh..." Boromir murmured, stroking his lover's body with gentle, 
soothing gestures, trying to bank the fire that raged so hotly in the 
Ranger's veins right now.  "I know you need, my Lovely.  I know.  And I 
will give you what you so need.  Have no fear."  
 
He heard Aragorn sigh shakily in response, making an effort to calm 
himself.  Boromir was secretely pleased that he had this sort of effect over 
Aragorn.  So the Ranger who would be King had the same mortal 
weaknesses as all men had.  Deep down, all men were dictated by pleasure 
to some degree.  Evidently, this streak ran particularly deep in Aragorn. 
 Underneath the carefully controlled exterior lay a beast in hiding. He gave 
himself over to carnality with a passion and abandon that Boromir had 
rarely seen in any human before, male or female.  And the fact that it was 
he, Boromir, that was the sole reason that the future ruler of Gondor was 
trembling beneath him, waiting desperately to be brought to fulfillment, 
was such an empowering thought that Boromir could not suppress a shiver 
of delight.  
 
But as Aragorn wrapped his arms around Boromir's neck and leaned his 
head up to place gentle, supplicating kisses on the warrior's neck and 
across his collarbone, Boromir realized that there was more to this than 
just domination and submission.  As he allowed Aragorn's warm lips to 
trace over his over-sensitized flesh, he gave a deep sigh and ran his hands 
through the Ranger's hair, holding him close, and a feeling of comfort and 
longing swept over him that he knew instinctively went beyond the 
barriers of mere physical gratification.    
 
However, these more civilized thoughts were pushed aside as Aragorn's 
hand slid down to wrap nimble fingers around the center of Boromir's lust. 
 Feeling the firm pressure of that clenching hand beginning to stroke him 
in a slow, deliberate fashion, Boromir gave a low, passionate growl and 
pushed Aragorn flat on his back again. He wanted to remind the other man 
of who exactly was in charge here, and he rolled completely over the 
Ranger and positioned himself between his legs.    
 
Boromir paused for a moment, feeling the rapid heartbeat and breathing of 
the man beneath him.  He leaned down to capture Aragorn's lips in a deep, 
sensual kiss at the same moment that he pushed his hips forward, sliding 
his rock-hard member....the head of which was well coated with his own 
pre-orgasmic fluids....completely into his lover with one long, slow stroke. 
   
 
Aragorn tensed and then shuddered beneath him, a long moan of 
combined pain and pleasure bursting from him that was muffled by 
Boromir's intense kisses.  Boromir, once fully sheathed in the Ranger's 
body, then broke the kiss and lay still for a moment, the heat and tightness 
of his lover almost immediately undoing him.  He concentrated on 
breathing slowly and evenly, gaining control over his senses again before 
he began to slowly thrust in and out.  
 
Cradling Aragorn's face in his hands, Boromir said in a strained voice, 
"Gods, you feel so good." He gave his lover a brief kiss before releasing 
his hold on him, placing his hands on the ground on either side of 
Aragorn's head to brace himself as his thrusts increased in speed and 
intensity.  
 
Immediately, Aragorn gave a deep groan of lust as Boromir's manhood 
began to rhythmically stimulate that most sensitive of spots deep within 
his body. He clutched at his lover desperately as waves of intense pleasure 
swept through him.    
 
Boromir felt his control slipping away as the combination of the physical 
sensations and Aragorn's heated responses were quickly pushing him 
toward the edge.  When Aragorn began to enthusiastically push his hips up 
to meet his own with every thrust, Boromir gave a growling moan and 
grasped his lover's shoulders with almost brutal tightness as he panted, 
"You are too much, Aragorn.  You shall soon unravel me if you continue 
this way."   He deliberately began to slow his thrusts in an effort to hold 
off the inevitable for a little while longer, and also to reestablish his 
control over the situation. His reacquisition of dominance was confirmed 
by the choked sob that issued from Aragorn as he realized that the 
culmination of his passion would be withheld.  
 
"Boromir, please..." the Ranger begged, wriggling beneath him.  
 
"Please what?" Boromir asked, smiling at the raw desperation in his 
lover's voice.    
 
"You....I....I cannot bear this," Aragorn managed, and Boromir felt the 
tremors that coursed through the Ranger's body, a glaring counterpoint to 
his words.  
 
Boromir knew what sweet agony his lover must be experiencing right 
now, but he was not so willing to give up his control of Aragorn yet.  He 
lowered his head so that his lips barely brushed those of the man below 
him.  He pulled back whenever Aragorn tried to lean up to deepen the 
contact of their mouths, wanting just this light, teasing touch, their harsh 
breathing mingling together.  All the while, he continued the slow, steady 
motions of his hips, continuing to stroke Aragorn from the inside.  
 
"You wish for me to cease, then?" Boromir asked against the Ranger's 
lips.  
 
"No!" Aragorn said sharply, sounding alarmed.  Then in a slightly calmer 
tone, he said,"No...please do not stop.  It feels wonderful.  It feels too 
wonderful."  These last words were spoken in a husky whisper that made a 
ripple of heat shoot straight through Boromir's insides.  
 
"So what do you wish of me, my liege?" Boromir asked, a note of 
amusement in his voice at addressing Aragorn as such while they were in 
the position they were presently in.  The whole situation suddenly seemed 
almost surreal, and Boromir smiled secretely at the thought, even as his 
body was singing with pleasure.  
 
"I wish for you to touch me," Aragorn whispered, reaching up to stroke 
Boromir's face with a shaking hand.  "Please, Boromir.  Touch me.  I need 
to feel your hand wrapped around me."  
 
"Mmm...How beautiful you sound when you beg me for pleasure," 
Boromir purred, his own voice deepening as his lust flared hot once again. 
 With that, he began to thrust more forcefully into his lover's body again as 
his fingers wrapped around the rock hardness of Aragorn's erection and 
began to stroke him in time to his thrusts.    
 
"Oh, sweet Valar, yes!" Aragorn moaned loudly, arching his body 
enthusiastically in response to Boromir's touch, his hands wrapping 
around the soldier's body and clasping his back to anchor himself.  
 
Boromir, for his part, knew that his release was now imminent.  He could 
no longer bear the tight heat and the delicious friction it was causing him. 
 He let all his resolve and restraint go and went for broke, thrusting with 
wild, uncurbed strokes that battered the body beneath him.  Aragorn found 
his knees rudely shoved up to his chest to allow Boromir to reach even 
deeper into him, causing the Ranger to gasp and dig his fingers harshly 
into Boromir's back.  All the while, Boromir continued to stroke Aragorn's 
straining manhood, driving the other man as close to release as he himself 
was.  
 
Both men were now completely in the throes of passion.  Their panting 
breaths and heated moans mingling, their bodies slick with sweat, their 
hands clawing at one another as they strained against each other 
desperately to reach the pinnacle of their lust.  
 
Suddenly, Aragorn curled himself upwards and buried his face in 
Boromir's neck with a sob as his climax began.  He muffled his intense 
cries against his lover's flesh as his seed erupted over Boromir's hand and 
his own stomach.  Boromir held Aragorn to him with his free hand as his 
own release came mere seconds later.  He bit his lower lip to stifle his own 
cry, but nevertheless, harsh animalistic moans erupted from him as he 
pumped his essence deep into the heat of his lover's body.  
 
Completely spent, Boromir lowered Aragorn to the ground. Laying prone 
on top of him and closing his eyes.  He was too exhausted for the moment 
to even withdraw from Aragorn's body, and he found he rather liked the 
lingering intimate contact.    
 
When their breathing began to slow down to normal, Boromir felt Aragorn 
shift beneath him, then felt the Ranger push a stray lock of his blonde hair 
away from his face before pressing a delicate kiss to his temple.    
 
"Thank you," Aragorn whispered.  
 
Boromir was too wrapped up in the pleasant after-effects of their coupling 
to respond with words, but the deep sigh that seemed to come from the 
very depths of his soul was answer enough for Aragorn.  
 
*****

Chapter 3  
 
"We need to get back to camp," Aragorn whispered in his lover's ear.  
 
Boromir stirred slightly, his voice heavy with weariness as he murmured 
irritably, "Mmm....I do not wish to."  
 
Aragorn smiled at the almost child-like petulance in the burly soldier's 
voice.  "Well, I do not wish to either, my beautiful Boromir...but we might 
soon be missed otherwise.  And I do not believe it would befit either of us 
to have the Company search for us and find us here in this compromising 
position."  
 
Boromir sighed melodramatically and said in a surly tone, "I suppose you 
are right, Aragorn.  To be honest, I am quite surprised that we were not 
interrupted earlier by your Elf friend."  
 
"Oh, Legolas knew to steer clear of us for the night," Aragorn assured 
him, still smiling.  
 
"I beg your pardon?" Boromir asked, his voice betraying his bemusement 
as he shifted his solid weight off the Ranger's body.  Aragorn wished he 
could see the Gondorian soldier's face right now, for the expression it held 
would no doubt be priceless.  
 
"Legolas is quite aware of what would pass between us this night," 
Aragorn explained calmly.  "Why do you think he volunteered so 
graciously to keep watch tonight?  He knew he would be able to assure us 
of an uninterrupted liason."  
 
"Why that sneaky creature," Boromir breathed, his voice betraying 
feelings of exasperation, amusement, and admiration all rolled together.  "I 
guess Gimli was right at the Council....Never trust an Elf."  
 
Aragorn chuckled softly as he stood, tugging Boromir's arm to encourage 
him to his feet as well.  Boromir lifted his cloak from the ground and 
shook it out briskly.  Then he pulled Aragorn close beside him for a kiss as 
he wrapped them both up in the cloak, the soft fur of the lining lying 
silkily against their naked flesh.    
 
In this way, they moved back to the circle of light thrown by the campfire 
and settled down just inside it, side by side.  Now that they were able to 
see one another again, they sat contemplating each other for a while, their 
eyes moving greedily and shamelessly over each other's bodies.  
 
Boromir pushed a lock of Aragorn's dark hair back off his neck and 
suddenly emitted a hiss between his clenched teeth.  
 
"What is it?" Aragorn asked in a mildly sharp tone.  
 
Boromir chuckled ruefully and shook his head,saying, "You had better 
keep your hair well over that side of your neck for a few days.  I believe I 
branded you a little too well."  He leaned forward to plant a gentle kiss on 
the glaring purplish bruise of passion that he had inflicted on the side of 
the Ranger's neck.  
 
"Well, I would advise you in kind to not remove your shirt in front of 
anyone anytime soon," Aragorn countered.  Before Boromir had a chance 
to ask what the reason was for such advice, Aragorn slid a hand down 
Boromir's back.  Boromir hissed again as he felt the stinging pain that 
motion caused, and knew instinctively that Aragorn must have scratched 
him quite cruelly in his final extremity.    
 
Smiling at his lover, Boromir murmured in a seductive tone, "Oh, I do not 
know about that, Aragorn.  Mayhap I will proudly display the marks of 
passion you have given me.  It would certainly let the others know that my 
prowess in matters of pleasure are equal to my prowess in battle."  
 
Now it was Aragorn's turn to chuckle as he scolded, "Do not brag upon 
yourself, Son of Gondor.  It is unbefitting one of your status and 
character."  Then he became serious and looked piercingly into his lover's 
green eyes as he said in low voice, "Even if your boasting holds the ring of 
absolute truth."  
 
Unable to resist the light of desire that still smoldered within the Ranger's 
blue eyes, Boromir hooked a hand around the back of Aragorn's neck and 
pulled his mouth to his own in another hungry kiss.  For several moments, 
their lips slid sensuously over one another's and their tongues twined in a 
sinuous dance.  Aragorn raised one hand and moved his fingers over 
Boromir's jaw and under his ear to push into the other man's hair once 
again.  At the same time, he shifted the position of his head slightly to 
return Boromir's kiss even more fully.    
 
Finally, they parted, breathing heavily for need of air.  They looked into 
each other's eyes again for a few seconds before Boromir laid his head on 
Aragorn's shoulder, his breath warm against the flesh of the Ranger's neck. 
 Aragorn sat quietly, raking his fingers slowly through Boromir's hair, 
repeatedly lifting and seperating locks of it before letting it fall back in 
place.  He watched with an almost hypnotic fascination the way the 
firelight caught the silky blonde strands, making them blaze and sparkle 
like pure gold.    
 
Meanwhile, Boromir's eye fell upon another sort of sparkle.  This one 
from the delicately shining filigree pendant hanging around the Ranger's 
neck.  He lifted a hand to touch it gently, remembering what Aragorn had 
told him earlier in their journey about how it was a betrothal gift from the 
Lady Arwen.  He recalled how Aragorn had described her love for him, 
and how she had forsaken her own immortality in order to be with him.    
 
Boromir realized he had no such monumental promise to give to his future 
King.  All he could offer was his sword, and his life, if it was required of 
him.  For now he knew that he would give both to Aragorn without 
question or hesitation.  There was only one thing he hesitated to give to his 
King, and it was not out of any ill-feelings toward the man any longer, but 
only because he feared it would not be accepted. For how could Boromir 
compete with the love and the promise that was represented by that 
shimmering silver and jeweled pendant?  
 
Feeling a touch of despair even amidst his blissful happiness, Boromir 
nuzzled Aragorn's neck, pressing a gentle kiss to the warm flesh, feeling 
the other man's pulse through his lips.  Aragorn sighed and leaned his head 
against Boromir's.  
 
"I love you."  
 
Boromir lifted his head and looked at Aragorn with surprise.  Did he just 
hear what he thought he had heard?  Surely not.  Aragorn was going to be 
King.  He was betrothed to an Elvin princess who had given up 
immortality for him.  Boromir knew he must have imagined hearing those 
words.  
 
Just to be sure of it, he asked in a slightly tremulous voice, "Wh...What did 
you say, Aragorn?"  
 
Aragorn stared straight into the emerald depths of Boromir's eyes and 
repeated in a slow, very clear voice, "I love you."  
 
Boromir drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes against the sudden 
sting of tears.  At this very moment, he felt that he could almost grow 
wings and fly over the mountains, so great was the pure joy he was 
experiencing right now.  He could not remember the last time he had ever 
felt this sort of sparkling happiness.  Not since childhood, surely.    
 
When he opened his eyes, he saw that Aragorn was still looking at him, 
his blue eyes suddenly very tender and vunerable, his lips slightly curved 
in a smile.  Boromir reached out and cupped Aragorn's jaw in the palm of 
his hand, lightly running his thumb along the line of the other man's full 
lower lip.  
 
"I love you too."  
 
Aragorn sighed again, pulling Boromir to him in a fierce hug.  Boromir 
clung to his King, not bothering to hold back his tears now, but letting 
them trace their ways down his cheeks.  Not since taking leave of his 
brother months ago had he felt this sort of closeness and connection to 
another being.  And while he bore a love for his brother that surpassed all 
other things, this new bond of love he shared with Aragorn was of a totally 
seperate and altogether different nature.    
 
As if reading his thoughts, Aragorn said, "I know you have other loves, 
Boromir.....as have I.  But what we have is something that cannot be 
measured against any other.  Whatever else happens to us in the future, we 
will always have this bond between us, from this day forward."  
 
"From this day forward," Boromir repeated, making his own pledge to his 
King.    
 
The men then pulled back from each other, and Boromir was touched to 
notice that Aragorn was shedding tears as well.  But now, as Aragorn 
looked at him steadily, Boromir noticed that the Ranger's eyes had taken 
on that lustful glaze in addition to the new light of love that now filled 
them.  The combination of the two feelings......one physical, one 
emotional....was enough to make Boromir notice some profound stirring 
below his waistline again.    
 
"Move back out of the light," Aragorn said, his quiet tone not quite 
masking the cool steel of command underlying the words.  
 
Boromir now realized that the King was...temporarily, at least...back in 
charge now, and he did not hesitate to do his bidding.  He stood and crept 
back out of the circle of firelight, watching as Aragorn joined him.  Before 
he knew what was happening, Aragorn had seized him around the upper 
arms and pushed him backwards until he was pinned against the cold, hard 
surface of a large boulder.  Unable to see anything in the inky darkness, he 
reached out to grasp Aragorn, only to find that Aragorn was no longer 
standing before him.  
 
He had but a moment to wonder where Aragorn had gone before he felt 
warm hands slide up the front of his thighs, and then the blissful sensation 
of a warm tongue licking up the underside of his shaft.  Boromir drew in a 
sharp breath, reaching down to bury his fingers in the hair of the man 
kneeling before him, just as Boromir had envisioned the day before.    
 
As Aragorn's tongue danced lightly over his heated flesh, Boromir felt 
himself swiftly coming to full hardness again.  He tilted his head back 
against the stone surface behind him, breathing heavily, his eyes slipping 
closed.    
 
Once he was fully erect, Boromir felt Aragorn pull back momentarily, still 
running his hands slowly over Boromir's muscular thighs, then slipping 
around to clutch his buttocks as he suddenly moved forward again, 
engulfing Boromir's shaft fully in his eager mouth.  
 
Boromir moaned as he felt himself enclosed in that wet heat. 
 Instinctively, his hips tried to thrust forward, but Aragorn's hands 
suddenly clasped him hard, forestalling any movement.  The Ranger's 
mouth worked on Boromir's shaft with a slowness and steadiness that was 
close to torture for the Gondorian soldier's over-stimulated senses.  His 
fingers tightened painfully in Aragorn's hair, trying to force the Ranger 
into increasing his rhythm, but Aragorn resisted him, maintaining a sedate 
pace that soon had Boromir squirming and straining for release.  
 
"Gods above us, Aragorn!  Why do you torment me so?" Boromir cried in 
a voice tense and quavering with need and his rapid breathing.    
 
Aragorn began to suck his lover a little more enthusiastically, taking the 
entire length of Boromir's shaft fully into his throat with every stroke. 
 Boromir wondered dimly how it was possible for the Ranger to do that 
without choking, as Boromir was quite well-endowed.  Then the 
pleasurable sensations began to overwhelm him and he completely lost his 
train of thought as his release crept ever closer.  He whimpered and 
strained his hips forward, wanting the sweet torture to end, yet not willing 
to have the pleasure cease yet.  However, the skillfulness of the Ranger's 
mouth finally won out and Boromir felt his senses hurtled into space for 
the second time that night.  He tilted his head back again and a loud, 
gutteral groan broke from his lips as he began to empty his essence deep in 
Aragorn's constricting throat.  As Boromir's body twitched and trembled 
with the intensity of his climax, Aragorn carefully milked him of every 
drop before letting the softening organ slide from between his lips.    
 
Boromir dropped to his knees in front of his King so they were at the same 
level, taking Aragorn in his arms and placing a deep kiss on the mouth that 
had just given him so much pleasure.  Boromir's tongue delved and probed 
and licked, tasting himself within that hot orifice.  He slid his hand down 
the Ranger's throat, stroking his fingers along the shining Evenstar with 
reverence before continuing to move down the muscular chest with its 
slight coating of dark hair, down the flat stomach and firm abdominals that 
twitched involuntarily at his light touch, and finally wrapping his fingers 
around the hardness that pulsed between Aragorn's trembling thighs.    
 
Aragorn moaned and thrust his hips forward, pushing his shaft eagerly into 
his lover's hand.  Without ever ceasing his probing kisses, Boromir slowly 
but firmly stroked his King to release.  When his climax began, Aragorn 
disengaged his lips from Boromir's and bit down instead on the soldier's 
muscular shoulder to stifle his cries as he spent his passion over Boromir's 
skilled fingers.    Then it was over and Aragorn was wrapping his arms 
around his lover, pressing his lips repeatedly to the warm flesh of the 
soldier's neck as he panted words of love and devotion and undying 
loyalty into Boromir's ear.    
 
Boromir held the King's trembling body close, a secret smile on his face. 
 Aragorn was to be the ruler of Gondor, it was true.  But after tonight, 
Boromir knew for sure who would wield the power behind the throne.  
 
The End.