Title: I desire...
Author: Dinen Glamor
Pairings: Boromir/Aragorn, Merry/Pippin, Frodo/Sam, variations of.  
Rating: R. Or maybe NC-17 if you’re really picky. 
Summary: Boromir has an unhealthy obsession with halflings.
Authors Note: For the LoM ‘Keep it in the Closet’ challenge.


They sat before him in the boat and yet they might as well have been half a world
away. He watched the hobbits chattering and squabbling and laughing as they rowed.
He saw how as Merry related a joke to Pippin, he let his hand rest on his friend’s
arm. He saw how Pippin gazed at Merry when he thought he was unnoticed. He saw the
closeness between the two of them as they sat together, how slowly over the course
of the day they had moved nearer to each other and how Pippin would lazily let his
fingers brush against Merry’s as they lay beside him. He saw Merry blush and bite
his lip before looking away, smiling. He saw Pippin’s inner rejoicing. He saw it
all. 

He saw it but did not want to, for the longing in his heart swelled with each new
scene. He drew his eyes away, agonisingly forcing himself to concentrate on
rowing. Row, row, row. Keep going. The boat sped forwards.

“Boromir! We’re leaving the others behind!”

Pippin sounded anxious. Boromir looked up and saw that they were indeed quite far
in the lead. He stopped abruptly, the boat rocking slightly with the change of
motion. He saw the glance between the two. He looked away.

The other boats were catching up now. There were Legolas and Gimli. Now that was a
sight unlikely to arouse him. The dwarf puffed as he enthusiastically attacked the
water with his oar, his brow furrowed. The elf fondly squeezed his shoulder,
taking a pause from his own elegant strokes. Boromir looked away.

His gaze stopped on the third boat. Frodo gallantly rowing, his face serene in
concentration. Sam was hunched miserably in the back of the boat. Frodo looked
back at him and said something – Boromir couldn’t hear what – and Sam smiled
weakly, looking at his master in adoration. They were so beautiful and vulnerable
and desirable...

And there was Aragorn. He caught Boromir’s eye and smiled subtly. His eyes
flickered downwards. For a second, Boromir thought that he must have let his
imagination take advantage of him but he too looked down and noted with relief
that no signs were visible. He looked back to Aragorn who quickly made a
suggestive gesture. Boromir looked away.

He did not understand his own feelings fully. He only knew that as he had arrived
at Rivendell and first seen a halfling, he had felt as if all the breath had been
knocked out of him. As he realised that there were four, he had become more and
more enamoured with them. Frodo with his pure good looks and piercing eyes, Sam
with his strong and defiant attraction, Pippin with his mischievous smile and
Merry with his good-natured appeal: they were all beautiful. 

And to go on a mission with them, a quest! It was like being denied happiness anew
each day. For a start, they seemed neatly paired up. To be honest, this did not
diminish Boromir’s hunger for them; in fact, each time he thought of Merry and
Pippin disappearing through the trees for a while or Frodo and Sam sneaking over
to each other late at night (which was often), he felt a fresh roaring of lust
course through him. But yet if they were satisfying each other then why would they
agree to let a man enter their idylls?

And that was another thing. He was a man, a completely different race to them. Not
only that, he was heir to the Stewardship of Gondor. How could he ever have a
relationship with a halfling? One of them was even a common gardener! As he
thought of home, his cheeks flushed with shame. 

Nay, he could only realistically be with other men. Aragorn had been happy to
oblige. As a matter of fact, it was the ranger who had initiated the affair,
noticing him in a particularly desperate state and seemingly taking pity on him.
It had been rather amazing at first, and there were times when it still was. But
Boromir couldn’t help but wish that it was Sam who was wantonly offering himself
or Merry who was pushing him against a tree or Frodo who was murmuring to him
dirtily as he tried to pay attention to any new orders or Pippin who ran his
fingers against his inner leg as he attempted to sleep. He wished it but did not
act.

*	*	*

Aragorn put his fingers to his lips as he woke the other man. 

“Don’t say anything yet. Come on,” he whispered.

He took Boromir’s hand and led him away from the sleeping group. Boromir’s eyes
swept over them and noted Merry’s arm protectively around Pippin before lingering
on the empty spots which had been occupied by Frodo and Sam.

“I’ve waited all day,” Aragorn moaned as soon as they were sufficiently far away
to not be heard. “I wish we didn’t have to be in separate boats.”

“It’s probably for the best, or the mission would not advance,” Boromir smiled.

Aragorn made a lustful sound. “How you can be so logical and strong-willed I do
not know.”

“Fine words from our leader.”

“I am not capable of leading when I think of you, Boromir,” Aragorn said with
feeling. 

“Why, what happens then?” Boromir said playfully.

Aragorn said nothing but brought Boromir’s hand to rest on the hardness concealed
by his trousers. A sigh fluttered from his mouth and he closed his eyes.

“Such a compliment,” Boromir murmured. 

He quickly untied the fastenings and pulled the offending cloth away. Aragorn
eagerly did the same to him.

Aragorn moaned. “If you don’t have me now, I don’t think I’ll live to tomorrow.

Boromir kissed the man’s temple comfortingly.

“Nothing would induce me to refuse you,” he whispered. “Do you have any...?”

“In my...”

He gestured to the fallen trousers. Boromir hurriedly searched them and extracted
a thin vial. He poured some of the liquid within onto his hands and prepared
himself for Aragorn.

Aragorn eagerly stepped forward to help. “As if I could just watch,” he said.

Within a minute, they were both ready and Boromir was inside Aragorn. The ranger
gasped and threw back his head as Boromir pushed deeper.

“Yes...yes...oh, yes...” Aragorn cried. “Boromir, oh, oh, that feels so...so...”

Boromir said nothing but shut his eyes. He could see Merry before him, begging for
more and crying with pleasure and taking uneven, ragged gasps as he pushed beneath
him. He could feel Pippin taking him in his mouth and feel his hot breaths caress
his length. He could see Sam’s lips quivering with desire and his hands skilfully
handling him. He could hear Frodo’s desperate exclamations:

“YES! Oh, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t EVER...ever...yes...oh Eru,
oh...ooooooh...yeeeeeees....”

He could hear Frodo. Opening his eyes, tearing himself away from the fantasies, he
strained his ears. Soon enough, the faint sounds of an ecstatic halfling floated
over to him through the trees. Glancing at Aragorn, he saw the man was to wrapped
up in his own pleasure to hear.

“That’s right...oh...oh, YES...yes, yes, yes, yes....”

For the first time since starting, Boromir uttered a throaty noise. With renewed
interest, he thrust into Aragorn, causing the other man’s eyes to widen with joy. 

“So...close...” the voice from afar cried.

“Nearly...there...” Aragorn panted.

“Yes...yeeeeeeeeeees...”

“Oh, YES...”

The cries as release was reached. Orgasms echoed through the air.

“Oh, Sam...”

“Oh, BOROMIR,” Aragorn exclaimed, shivering with lingering bliss. “That was...that
was amazing.”

Boromir kissed him in answer, passionately, more than he had ever done so before.

“My,” Aragorn whispered intimately, “you do seem keen tonight.”

“Well, as you said, absence makes the heart grow fonder,” Boromir shrugged,
embarrassed.

“It’s not the heart that’s growing,” Aragorn said, raising an eyebrow.

Boromir smiled. He was not going to inform Aragorn of his reasons any time soon.

*	*	*

“I just need...to think,” Frodo said, exasperated.

“You shall have that time,” Aragorn said, “but not long. We need to move quickly,
whatever your choice may be.”

Frodo nodded unhappily. “I shall go. I must be alone for a while.”

“Do not wander far, then,” Aragorn ordered.

The halfling nodded and disappeared through the trees. Aragorn watched him leave.

“We shall give him an hour to make his decision,” he said gravely. 

“An hour?” Pippin asked. His eyes slid over to Merry.

“If you wander, do not go far and return soon,” Aragorn told them, permitting
their hurried exits. Legolas stood as well, and Gimli, and they vanished into the
trees.

“Does this fellowship think of only one thing?” Sam cried in exasperation,
interrupting Boromir’s thoughts of pulling him closer and inhaling the smell of
his hair while feeling his excitement.

Sam noticed Boromir’s flushed face. He groaned.

“Clearly not,” he said unhappily. “I’ll leave then, shall I? Leave you two in
peace.”

“No, wait...”

But Sam had gone.

“He reads minds, that young hobbit,” Aragorn said with admiration.

“Surely you are not hoping to...well...at a time like this...” Boromir stammered.

“Why not?” Aragorn asked. “We have the time and it’s a good way to relieve
tension. It’ll make us feel stronger when Frodo makes his choice.”

He moved closer to Boromir.

“Do you not want to?” he murmured. “Would you truly rather wait?”

“Oh,” Boromir sighed. “All right. I do want to. Just...let’s move further from
this place. I shouldn’t like the others to happen upon us.”

“I believe that most of them are rather busy,” Aragorn smirked. “Still, I do as
you desire. Lead the way.”

Boromir took the ranger in the approximate direction Merry and Pippin had gone. He
had got to the point where he had difficulty sustaining arousal when not imagining
halflings. To have them near him would certainly improve his drive.

“Here,” Aragorn said impatiently. “We are far away enough now.”

Boromir heard no sign of the halflings but he did not want to fire up Aragorn’s
suspicious side. Once already he had withheld sex because he had not been close
enough to his objects of desire and this had merely made Aragorn moody and jealous
of whatever it was that held his lover’s attention elsewhere.

Aragorn pressed Boromir against a tree. He kissed him roughly, eagerly,
desperately. Quickly he unbuttoned Boromir’s shirt without breaking the kiss. His
lips fluttered down over the manly chest and hard nipples, down the strong
stomach, down to the trousers which were quickly undone. Then he took Boromir in
his mouth, moaning with desire, and let his tongue slide along the length of him.

Boromir would admit to himself that it did feel good. Still he blocked out the
sound of the other man and thought of the smaller race. Yet Aragorn became more
and more insistent, making it impossible to ignore him. Unhappily, Boromir turned
his attention back to reality.

He did not want to look down so he looked left. To his surprise, he realised that
they were rather near Merry and Pippin after all. He could make out the two
figures in a slowly shifting pile on the leafy floor, writhing and pushing against
each other. 

He became completely absorbed in the scene. The further the halflings got, the
closer he came to climax, the warning signs fluttering in him. As they moaned, he
moaned, as they sighed, he sighed. Aragorn noted with pleasure his reactions. 

He was close now. Very close. Just another few seconds and...

“What are you looking at?”

Quickly Boromir looked away.

“Please go on,” he begged, “please.”

Aragorn backed away. “You’ve been looking over there most of the time. Why?”

“Nothing!” Boromir said defensively. “There’s no reason!”

Aragorn stood up and made his way over to Boromir’s side. He looked through the
trees.

“Is that...oh Eru, it’s Merry and Pippin!” he cried.

There was a pause.

“Have you been watching them?” Aragorn demanded.

“No,” Boromir quickly denied.

“Is that why it took you a while to get going? Didn’t notice they were screwing
just over there for a few minutes?”

“Of course not...”

“You like them, don’t you?” Aragorn asked in disgust. “I’ve seen you looking at
them before! And Frodo and Sam too! Is that what it is? You’re...what...obsessed
with hobbits?”

Boromir shook his head violently, his eyes shut against Aragorn’s hurt face.

“You are! I can’t believe I never noticed!” Aragorn yelled. “I thought you were
worried about them or something...always following with your eyes...concerned,
perhaps...but no, you just can’t get off without them!”

Suddenly, he pulled Boromir into a fierce kiss. Images of Sam flashed across his
mind.

“Which one did you think of then?” Aragorn demanded.

“I...”

“Don’t lie! Please, don’t insult me by lying!” 

Boromir looked away. “Sam. If you must know.”

Aragorn gasped and stumbled backwards. “So it’s true.”

“Look, I’m sorry...”

“No. No. I’m...” Aragorn started. “I need to be alone.”

Boromir gave an utterance of agony. Speedily dressing, he rushed away from Aragorn
whose head was in his hands. He ran through the forest, not knowing where he was
running to.

Suddenly stopping. Somebody moving close by. They hadn’t seen him yet. An orc?

No. A halfling. Frodo. Still debating with himself, what to do? What should he do?

What should he do?

He felt a sudden but strong reminder of how Aragorn had cut him off from release.
He staggered from desire. Frodo before him had no idea he was there. He wandered
alone, his perfect face searching the sky for answers.

Boromir couldn’t help himself. In less than a few seconds, he had leapt at the
halfling. They fell to the ground together and Frodo was pinned beneath him.

“Who? Get off me!” he yelped. Then: “Oh, it’s you, Boromir. Don’t scare me like
that.”

Boromir breathed deeply, feeling Frodo’s warmth beneath him.

“Could you not...?” Frodo said, sounding scared.

Boromir swallowed hard. He knew not what to say.

“What is it?” Frodo asked, petrified.

“I desire...”

“The ring? The ring? Does everybody hunt for the ring?” Frodo suggested
desperately.

“No,” Boromir struggled. “I desire no tawdry trinket. I desire a treasure beyond
that.”

“I’ll give you the ring,” Frodo offered, his eyes wide with horror, “if you want
it. To Minas Tirith! That is what you want, is it not?”

Boromir shook his head.

“I desire...”

He trapped Frodo in an animal kiss, breathing not importance, just the
satisfaction of the closeness, the invasion of the halfling. All he saw was Frodo,
all he needed was Frodo. It was a fantasy fulfilled, his thirst slaked as he let
his tongue explore. He felt the halfling struggle beneath him but he pinned him
down, the intensity of the situation making him harder. 

Finally, he released Frodo from his lips. The halfling looked petrified. Boromir
inhaled deeply.

“Frodo,” he murmured, “oh, Frodo, Frodo. You know not how I have longed for you,
for your touch.”

His hand trailed to the front of Frodo’s shirt, idling at the buttons. Something
was missing. The Ring, he thought hazily. His mind was elsewhere but the absence
of the object somehow bothered him. Why would Frodo take it off?

“NO!” he cried.

It was too late. The halfling had disappeared. He was gone from Boromir’s
clutches. The man was left embracing air, pressed against the earthy ground,
smelling only soil where once the scent of Frodo had been. 

“Frodo?” 

No answer. What had he done?

“Frodo, come back!”

How foolish he had been! Where would the Ringbearer go? What would happen now? Had
his moment of lust been the catalyst to the end of Middle Earth?

“I did not mean anything by my actions!” he called desperately. “It was a phase. A
moment of foolishness. See, now I am fine! Controlled! Frodo!”

But he was gone.

Sobbing, shuddering gasps making him convulse, he started back to the clearing.
What would he meet there? What was left for him? If Frodo did return, he would
surely blacken Boromir’s name. Aragorn would never talk to him again. He knew that
he would not be able to look at a halfling with the shame he felt. It was
hopeless, all hopeless. Death seemed welcome. 

Turning a corner around the trees, he came upon a rabble of orcs.

(the end)