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With a satisfied sigh, Aragorn leans back into his chair and watches Boromir by the fire. Even from the other side of the room he can see the set of the man's jaw, the slight pout of his lips. Aragorn sips at his wine and smiles. "If I did not know that Gondor's finest would never do such a thing," he says softly, "I would say he was sulking."
Boromir straightens. "I am not sulking," he retorts, spinning round from the fire to face his king. A red mist seems to descend before Boromir's eyes and his fists clench by his sides when he sees the teasing smile on Aragorn's face. "Or perhaps by Gondor's finest my king is speaking of my baby brother? For if I am not mistaken, it was he who held the king's attention when out riding today and at dinner this night..."
Aragorn stares at Boromir's pouting mouth for a moment and is unable to stop a chuckle escaping his lips. "Your baby brother? No, Boromir. I do not speak of Faramir - as well you know. Though I do not believe I have ever seen him sulk." He pauses and winks. "Perhaps that is because the lady Eowyn does not give him cause to sulk..."
Boromir takes a breath and turns back to the fire. He knows he is being teased and he should not so bite, but tonight it seems he cannot stop himself. "I care not what the lady Eowyn gives or does not give my brother," he growls. "But you, Aragorn - what you give him - now that is a different matter..."
Aragorn's smile dies on his lips and he puts down his wine. "What I give him? And what do I give him that angers you so?" he asks quietly. "Tell me of what you speak, Boromir."
"You know of what I speak," Boromir mutters, his head dropping forward like a goaded bull as he remembers the scene at the supper table. "You touch him. All those touches - the hand on his shoulder, the squeeze of his arm, the kisses on his cheek and forehead - the smiles you bestow upon him - as if he is special in your eyes."
Aragorn sighs and stands up, crossing the room silently to join Boromir by the fire and putting a hand on the small of his back. "And I do that because Faramir is special in my eyes - because he is your brother, Boromir. I love him because you love him - but Faramir has many fine qualities that also make him special; he is kind and gentle - warm and thoughtful - just and loyal..."
"All that I am not, you mean," Boromir growls, but knowing the very moment the words leave his lips that he is being both unfair and completely unreasonable.
"All that you are not?" Aragorn repeats, confusion and hurt combining to add an edge to his words. "Enough of this foolishness, Boromir; tell me what is wrong."
The red mist that had descended a few moments before disappears as suddenly as it had arrived. "I am sorry - it is nothing - and I am a fool," Boromir says urgently. "For it is foolishness indeed to be jealous of the rightful attention my little brother receives on his birthday. Forgive me, my king..."
"Yes," Aragorn murmurs on a sigh as he pulls Boromir back against his chest to hold him tight. So strange after all this time and all they had shared that his warrior still needed such reassurance... "You are right - I have touched your brother's face," he whispers. "But I have never held his face in my hands and stared with wonder into his eyes. It is also true that I have kissed your brother's cheek. But I have never kissed his lips - never slipped my tongue inside his mouth - as I have countless times with you... I have never held him and worshipped his body with my lips and teeth and tongue. I have never sucked his flesh into my mouth, never tasted his seed, never taken him with his legs over my shoulders and his cries of pleasure ringing in my ears." Aragorn pauses and swallows, his throat tight. "And I have never laid awake watching him sleep and wondering what I would be without him by my side... All of which I have done many, many times with you. Yes, Boromir - you are a foolish man - and yes, of course I forgive you. But you know what I am going to ask of you now - yes?"
Boromir swallows and leans back into the hard warmth of Aragorn's body. "Yes," he whispers, his heart pounding and his eyes stinging with tears.
"Good. So tell me who you are," Aragorn purrs, curling his tongue round the rim of Boromir's ear at the same time his hand curls into Boromir's breeches.
"I am Boromir, my king."
"And what are you, Boromir?" Aragorn whispers, his fingers deftly seeking and finding his prize. Boromir's reaction is immediate - the warm flesh hardening and rising to fill Aragorn's hand, and a low possessive growl issues from the king's throat. "Tell me - what are you?"
"Aragorn - please..."
Another even lower growl rumbles up from Aragorn's chest. Normally just hearing this proud man say please would signal an end to all conversation, but not today. "Say it, Boromir..."
"Yes," Boromir gasps, his eyes closing tight - his body tense and trembling in Aragorn's embrace. "I am Gondor's finest - and keeper and protector of my king's heart."
"And what else?" Aragorn purrs, gently squeezing Boromir's shaft and nuzzling into his neck.
"I am yours, my king - always..."
Aragorn sighs and reluctantly removes his hand to turn Boromir towards him. "Yes, you are all of that - all of that and more - much, much more. And I am yours - remember that," he murmurs. "So repeat those words to yourself whilst I slowly remove your clothes. And then, Boromir - Gondor's finest and keeper and protector of my heart - we will pretend once again that today is your birthday..."
--[END] --