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Into the Wild Woods

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While Faramir came to enjoy his responsibilities as Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien, he often longed for days spent in the deep woods instead of in gilded halls. Instead of sleeping under down comforters, he yearned to wrap himself in his cloak and stretch out next to a crackling campfire. Instead of sweet wines and fine dinners served on banquet tables, Faramir had a taste for cold spring water and smoked and dried rations. Aragorn understood his yearning for solitude and the wilds, and whenever they could steal time away from their courts, both men would claim a patrol from their Rangers.

The first test of their talents came when they slipped from the guards determined to ensure their lords came to no harm. On their last outing, one guard managed to dog their trail for three days before they lost him. When they returned to Minas Tirith, Aragorn make the man a unit leader. This time, the guards who followed made noise enough to alert the border wardens in Rohan that they were coming. Faramir grinned at Aragorn as they crouched in the branches of two sturdy oaks watching the men trudge by beneath them.

A light rain began to fall by the time they climbed down the trees and dropped quietly to the forest floor. Their cloaks were thick enough to repel the worst of the water, but they didn’t help cut the creeping chill that blanketed the woods. Faramir touched Aragorn’s shoulder, nodded to the west, and pulled his cloak tighter around his body as he set out in that direction. Less than an hour’s travel, they should find a cave Faramir used as a hiding space in the past. He didn’t know if it had survived the war or if they would find it occupied by bears or orcs, but it could offer them shelter from the storm.

When the wind picked up and the rain started coming down harder, Faramir was glad he picked a camp nearby. After they squeezed through the thin fissure that opened in to the cavern, he was even happier to find the cave empty, except for the firewood and blankets he’d stocked there years before.

“Do we risk a fire?” The light could draw unwanted attention, but it would drive off the chill.

Aragorn tilted his head to the side as he considered the question. “The guard won’t have given up this quickly. Even with the weather turning foul.” He stepped behind Faramir, curled his arms around him. “Besides, there are other ways of keeping warm.”

As Faramir sighed and leaned back against Aragorn, he couldn’t help but think that even though he loved his wife, sometimes instead of losing himself in her fire, he needed this.

“Get out of those wet things. Now.”

Faramir shivered less at the cold than at the crackle of command in Aragorn’s voice. He could hear Aragorn setting an example by loosening buckles and laces to shed his own gear. It would be insubordinate if he didn’t obey his lord. In all things. He tugged at the fastenings on his armor, growling softly when several buckles fought his attempt to unfasten them. His trousers had barely hit the ground before Aragorn spun him around and brought his mouth down on Faramir’s.

Too long. Faramir groaned as Aragorn kissed him, savoring the time his lord took licking and teasing and tasting. Faramir’s arms curled around Aragorn’s waist, tugging him closer until their hips rubbed against each other and that delightful friction made the kiss that much more incendiary. When Aragorn finally broke the kiss, they were both breathing heavily.

“I’ve missed this.” Faramir curled his fingers around Aragorn’s wrist and drew the other man’s hand down to cup his cock. “I’ve missed you.”

Aragorn chuckled as he pressed his palm more firmly against Faramir’s erection. “I can tell.” He rubbed along Faramir’s shaft, leaning close to murmur in his ear. “I’m going to enjoy having you in as many ways as we can manage before we have to go back to the city.”

Fuck. Faramir’s eyes closed as a shudder ran through him. “You are?”

“Count on it.” Aragorn dropped to his knees and curled his fingers around Faramir’s cock. He waited until Faramir opened his eyes before swallowing him so quickly he choked.

Faramir would have pulled back, but Aragorn’s arm stayed locked around his waist, keeping him from moving back. Like the kiss, Aragorn was going to have him on his own terms, and that thought drew a deep groan from Faramir. He released the instinctive grip he had on Aragorn’s hair. It wasn’t his place to force or guide. He would simply enjoy. Enjoy having Aragorn on his knees, enjoy watching Aragorn’s lips stretched around him as his cock disappeared into the other man’s mouth over and over again.

He raised trembling fingers to Aragorn’s lips, tracing them and the line of his jaw. He stroked Aragorn’s throat, feeling the other man swallowing around him. One day he’d ask Aragorn how he became such an accomplished cocksucker, how he managed to seem completely in control even as he let Faramir fuck his mouth.

One day. But not today. Today, all Faramir wanted to do was loose himself in that clenching heat. As soon as he began thrusting more urgently, Aragorn pulled back. He licked his lips and let his gaze move over Faramir’s cock and up his body, before slapping him lightly on the hip. “Turn around.”

Faramir turned, whimpering as Aragorn parted his legs wider and spread his cheeks. He leaned in to blow softly across Faramir’s opening.

“I’m going to leave you wrecked. You know that, right?” Aragorn’s words were as much a tease as his touch.

Faramir nodded. He knew. Just as he knew Aragorn’s words weren’t a boast: they were a promise. He braced himself against the wall, leaning over so he was bent slightly at the waist. He felt his heartbeat hammering though his body as he waited…and waited. And…waited. Even though Faramir was expecting it, the first brush of Aragorn’s tongue against his opening drew a soft cry from him.

Wicked. Faramir bit down on his own forearm to muffle the desperate sounds he made as Aragorn licked and sucked and teased. They were both men who found pleasure in a great many things, but the delicious way Aragorn’s tongue thrust and curled as it fucked him was one of his favorites. He loved the way it laid him bare, the way it made him crave the fucking Aragorn would give him afterwards.

More than the need to reconnect with his land and with the beasts that called it home, it was the fire kindled by Aragorn’s touch, his tongue, that made him feel whole and kept tempting Faramir out of the city and into the wild woods.