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Boromir grunted as a tree branch slapped his shoulder and ducked to avoid another that would have unseated him if it struck him in the chest. He gritted his teeth and glared at the Ranger he trailed behind. His mistake, he supposed, was asking Aragorn where they were headed after Faramir and Eomer had broken away from them and ridden off on their own.
“I guess you’ll have to follow me and see.” Aragorn’s eyes lit with a dangerous sort of amusement just before the madman urged his horse into a gallop and left Boromir chasing after him.
Gondor’s winter had been unseasonably cold. Frost rimed the leaves carpeting the forest floor and silvered the bark of the trees. The wind buffeted Boromir, wormed its way under his cloak and furs, and soon, the only thing warm about him was his anger.
You bastard. You mad, fucking bastard. The words became a mantra he muttered under his breath, breath that left his lips in a steamy cloud, as Aragorn pulled further ahead. They both knew Aragorn was the better horseman, but that didn’t mean Boromir didn’t resent being reminded of it. When he finally started gaining ground on his prey, Boromir smiled darkly, thoughts of the myriad of ways he could punish Aragorn for this little foray beginning to warm his blood and stir things other than his anger.
Aragorn had already dismounted by the time Boromir caught up to him, and the cocky grin his king gave him had him sliding off his horse before it had even fully stopped. He closed on Aragorn, grabbed him by the shoulders, and shoved him against the side of a nearby tree. “Just what was the fucking meaning of that?”
The blue eyes that fixed on him were a study in innocence, though a faint smile curved his lips. “Of what?”
Boromir growled, his grip on Aragorn’s arms tightening. “You know what I mean, you mad bastard.”
Most men would have retreated from Boromir’s temper, but Aragorn wasn’t like most men. Instead, he laughed delightedly, leaned in, and brushed his lips teasingly across Boromir’s. “I have something to show you.”
That touch, fleeting as it was, the teasing promise of the words, the scent of the man nuzzling at his cheek, all had Boromir inwardly cursing the snugness of his breeches. He slid a thigh between Aragorn’s, leaned into him, rubbed against him. A dark ribbon of satisfaction curled through him when Aragorn breathed out a soft moan and shivered.
“I think you’re going to show me a great many things.”
Aragorn swallowed heavily. He slid his hands down Boromir’s back, cupped his ass, tugged him even closer. “I am?”
Boromir nipped at his jaw. “You are.”
“Then you’d better follow me.” Aragorn shrugged off his hold, then slipped between the tree and the stony side of the small hill it bordered. Boromir followed, grimacing as the cold stone bit into his back, then again as he had to crouch to follow Aragorn through a fissure in the side of the hill.
Once inside, the narrow passage opened into a dimly lit cavern. He wondered how Aragorn intended to show him anything in the low light.
“Just a moment.”
The words were soft, but Boromir turned toward the sound and a series of sparks from the same area, sparks that eventually caught in some kindling and brought a small fire to life. As the light grew and flickered over the walls, Boromir saw a pool filled about half the cave.
Aragorn smiled at him from the small firepit dug into the cavern’s floor. “I didn’t want you to stumble into the water.”
Boromir shook his head. He’d have had to take his annoyance of Aragorn’s hide if he was forced to ride back to the White City with soaking wet boots. Part of him wondered if that’s what today’s little excursion was about. Pushing him. Pushing him knowing that he would push back. As he pondered that, Aragorn pulled off his cloak and leaned over to tug off one boot, then the other.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s a hot spring.” Aragorn undid his sword belt, shedding his weapons before tugging his shirt free of his pants and over his head. “What do you think I’m doing?”
I think you’re trying to make me want to shove you against the wall and fuck you where you stand. There was a part of Boromir that wanted to speak the words aloud just to see how Aragorn responded, but instead, he stood in silence, watching as Aragorn’s hands trailed down his chest. His eyes half closed, and he moaned softly as they lingered on his nipples.
Boromir’s hands curled into fists as he fought the urge to touch himself or to reach for Aragorn and run his fingers over the bare skin that, despite its scars, he ached to touch. When Aragorn’s hands moved no lower, when that same faint smile touched his lips, Boromir growled. Fucking tease.
“Off.” Boromir’s voice crackled with command. It left no room that order would not be followed. “All of it. Off now.” Aragorn’s eyes widened as he bit his lip. “Do it. I won’t ask again.” Though, he supposed, he hadn’t really asked before either.
Aragorn slid his hands down his body and made surprisingly quick work of unlacing his pants and shoving them off. One hand moved toward his erection but stopped short of actually touching his cock.
Boromir smiled. Good boy. He finally touched himself through his clothing as he let his gaze move over his lover’s body. He lingered over the way sweaty tendrils of hair were clinging to Aragorn’s neck, the scar across his shoulder that ran through a bruise Boromir left on it several nights back, the way Aragorn’s hips canted just slightly toward him as he slowly licked his lips. He wanted Aragorn to undress him, but he knew how it would play out. It would be all teasing touches and maddening licks that would have him shivering and sweating by the time he was naked. Aragorn would see to that. While the idea held no small appeal, Boromir wasn’t inclined to give over the reins. Not today.
Today, he undressed quickly, efficiently, and tried to ignore the man watching him. A task Aragorn made all the harder with sighs and soft, needy sounds. It took considerable will for Boromir not to meet his gaze and to turn away from him, once he was unclothed.
The pool. Focus on the water. Boromir dipped a foot into the water and groaned in pleasure at the warmth. After the long, cold ride to get here, it was beyond welcome. He waded in until he was waist deep, crouched so that the water came up to his chin, and sighed contentedly.
“There’s a ledge of stone. There.” Aragorn gestured to the far side of the pool.
Boromir felt his way carefully through the dark water, until he found the spot. When he was sitting, the water came up to his shoulders, and he leaned back, let his eyes close.
“Nice. Isn’t it?”
His eyes snapped open when he realized the voice was closer than he expected. Aragorn had started wading into the pool, and when he saw that Aragorn meant to join him, he held up a hand. “Stop.” He smiled as the confusion in those blue eyes. “Not until you’ve prepared yourself for me.”
Puzzlement burned away in a flash of heat. “Prepared myself?”
Boromir nodded, gave the Ranger a thorough looking over. “You’re clearly aching for a good ride today, and you’re not about to leave this place until you’ve gotten it.”
“Are you certain?”
Sure, there was bravado in the question, but not enough to cover the need vibrating below it. Boromir smiled. “Oh, I’m very certain.”
Aragorn hesitated only a moment before stepping out of the water. He came back to the edge of the pool, spread his cloak on the floor of the cave, and stretched out on it.
“Show me how much you need this.” How much you need me. “Make me want you enough I can’t help but give it to you.”
Even in the low light, Boromir could see the flush that colored Aragorn’s chest as he spread his legs. Serves you right after leading me on a merry chase. Now it’s your turn, pretty boy.
After slicking up his fingers from a small vial of oil, Aragorn cupped his cock and balls. Boromir’s protest never made it to his lips when he saw Aragorn was moving them so Boromir could better watch his fingers circling and teasing, thrusting and rubbing. Boromir stroked his own cock slowly as he watched Aragorn’s breathing grow ragged. When two fingers became three and Aragorn cried out a string of desperate pleas, Boromir shuddered hard.
“Come here. Now.”
In a heartbeat, Aragorn was up and into the water, fighting against the resistance it offered until he straddled Boromir’s legs. He kissed Boromir deeply, and when Aragorn arched into his touch, Boromir slid his hands up his back, then back down to cup his ass and squeeze hard enough that his nails bit into Aragorn’s skin.
”Please.” Aragorn had already reached for Boromir’s cock, steadying it as he moved so it was just pressing against him. “Please let me.”
If denying Aragorn didn’t also mean denying himself, Boromir might have made his lover wait. Instead, he simply nodded. As Aragorn sank down on Boromir’s cock, their gazes locked, and they both moaned, savored the slow slide. If their positions were reversed, Boromir didn’t think he’d have the patience to move so deliberately, to make this one more long tease. Once Aragorn had settled into his lap, Boromir shifted his position slightly, but it was enough to slide deeper. Aragorn rested his forehead against Boromir’s shoulder, whimpered softly.
“Shhhh.” Boromir kissed Aragorn’s temple, then in front of his ear before murmuring in his ear. “I can’t think of another thing that feels as wonderful as being balls-deep in you.” Aragorn shuddered, his arms curling around Boromir’s shoulders as he tightened around him. “It’s perfect.” He ran a finger lightly around the base of his cock, feeling Aragorn stretched around him. “Just perfect.”
“Perfect.” The word vibrated against Boromir’s skin.
“Mmmm.” Boromir carded his fingers through Aragorn’s sweaty hair. “Do you know what you’re going to do now?” When Aragorn nodded, Boromir tangled his fingers in his hair, gripped hard enough to hurt. Just a little. Aragorn’s hips jerked as he muffled a cry against Boromir’s skin. “But do you know how you’re going to do it?”
“How?” He started to move, but Boromir curled his arm tighter around his waist to hold him still.
“Yes, how.” He waited until Aragorn had focused on him before he continued. “Since you led me a merry chase earlier today, now, you have to follow me.” Aragorn shivered, tightened around him so deliciously. “Do you understand?” He tugged Aragorn’s head back by the hair, licked at his throat. “Do you?”
Aragorn nodded, swallowed heavily. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
It was impossible to keep the satisfaction from his voice. “Then do it, pretty boy. Show me what a good rider you are.”
Boromir slid his hands down Aragorn’s sides to let them rest lightly on his lover’s waist. He would tighten his grip to pull Aragorn down harder onto his cock, would dig his nails in and leave bruises behind. But that wouldn’t happen until Aragorn drew close enough to taste the release Boromir would deny him. Deny him until Boromir forgot the chill and annoyance at the chase Aragorn lead through the wintery woods.