Sometimes Aragorn thanked the Valar for those dimples at the base of Boromir’s spine. It seemed they were placed there for his pleasure alone, symmetrical little hollows that beckoned his thumbs as he slid home, his mouth as he teased his warrior with licks and bites, raising a shiver across that golden skin before he parted the cheeks to welcome a merry tongue.
They had been loving for hours, without Aragorn had let Boromir come and he was all but growling beneath Aragorn, sunk into his own reverie where pleasuring him was the centre and all of Aragorn’s world.
Later, he stood, spent, leaning against the fireplace whilst his beloved Steward exercised his own particular quirk and re-made their bed before sleep – no sense in suffering rumpled sheets needlessly – and thought about those dimples. How he might return the favour.
He wondered if the child that had been his love remembered the cleft in Thorongil’s chin. Boromir grown had never seen him without his beard. He chuckled at the thought of how Arwen would react if he went clean-shaven for the summer. The Queen took a deal of pleasure from his beard. This would require all of a Ranger’s guile.
Summary: Aragorn counts his blessings
Rated: R
Categories: LOTR FPS Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 204 Read: 876
Published: 05 Aug 2010 Updated: 05 Aug 2010
Story Notes:
DISCLAIMER: "These characters originate with their copyright holders. I borrow them for entertainment, not profit."