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Frodo panted softly, eyes shut tight. He needed the release, it had been ages since he's pleasured himself. The trials of the journey, his health, and the company of the fellowship kept him from attending to that personal need. He was trying to hurry in the act so that he could return before his absence was discovered. The rush only made it all the more difficult, but he was beginning to worry about having dreams, and did not want to risk finding out how his ring-shining nightmares would meddle them.
He was apparently gone too long, however. He heard a branch crack, and looked up. Boromir was staring at him with wide eyes. A smile crept onto the man's face, "I was beginning to worry about you, Frodo. It seems my concern was misplaced."
Frodo blushed hard, looking away. Boromir's eyes kept on his crotch. Frodo started putting himself away, but Boromir caught his hand, "Don't worry. It's perfectly natural."
Boromir pulled Frodo out and gave him a slow stroke. Frodo whimpered, feeling small in his rough hands. He closed his eyes, erection filling back out. The Steward pressed him back against the tree and pulled his own member out to show. Frodo gasped.
"Long days on the road, men will often find pleasure in one another." He pressed their members together and stroked them together. "Do you hobbits pleasure one another?"
Frodo gasped and shook his head, "Never!"
"It's only natural." He started playing with Frodo's foreskin. "And I haven't been blind to your beauty."
Frodo gasped and reached down, touching Boromir gently. He recoiled and looked down at the bulbous, exposed head, "What happened?"
"Hm? Oh, don't worry little one. It's done often in Gondor." He pulled back Frodo's foreskin, making him whine again. "It doesn't hurt, don't worry."
Frodo rubbed the head and shivered. He'd never touched another male before, and certainly never expected to find himself with a man. He'd not even been with a girl since he was young and foolish. Something about stroking the man's member turned him on immensely. He pet down the length, amazed by the sheer size of it compared to his.
"Very good." Boromir thrust into his touch, "So good Frodo."
Frodo trembled, eyes falling shut. A rough hand grabbed his hair, crumpling his ear against his head nearly painfully. Boromir kissed him hard. His stubble scraped against Frodo's soft skin. Frodo grabbed harder on the man's erection and bucked his hips, nearing a precipice. Boromir shoved his tongue into his mouth. It was large for Frodo, wet and writhing curiously against his. Frodo sucked on it and spilled his seed, making Boromir's hand white and slippery.
The tongue plundering his mouth and the hand still caressing where he was so tender started to be too much. Frodo groaned and gave a small motion to move away, but had no need soon enough. Boromir pulled back and spilled onto the grass below.
Frodo gasped softly, feeling like a storm had just cleared. No small dalliance he ever had came close to the rushed lust of what transpired. He looked up to find Boromir's eyes still lingering on him. The man caressed his cheek, "You won't mention this to others, right Frodo?"
"Of course. I wouldn't discuss such things." Frodo blushed at the thought. He had suspected Bilbo preferred the company of males, but it wasn't done much in Hobbiton. He couldn't imagine Sam or his cousins discovering about this. They simply wouldn't understand. Aragorn, Legolas, And Gimli had no business to be told at all.
"Good." There was something nearly condescending in his smile that caused Frodo pause. "Let's head back to camp, my lovely halfling."
Frodo walked up to one of the bathing pools of Lothlorien, where an elf with a particular smile had pointed him towards. He hesitated in the shrubs, seeing Boromir already there, lazily scrubbing his strange, small man feet. He leaned back, golden hair shining with water. Frodo felt lust stirring in him again. He pushed forward into the clearing.
Boromir looked over and smiled, "Hello little hobbit. Did you come to me alone?"
Frodo's fingers trembled as he began to strip himself, excitement building, "Yes. I only meant to bathe, would you mind my company?"
"Not at all." He said with a knowing look.
Frodo slid off his mithril, placing it carefully before removing his pants and underthings. He was unable to look right at Boromir, feeling extremely forward with his actions. He sank into the water by him.
"Can't help but feel, even in these baths, that all the elven eyes are on me." Boromir said with some frustration.
Frodo felt all the safer for their gaze. But he didn't voice that. Galadriel's eyes floated in his head. He had no doubt she knew of his relations with Boromir before, and the way they continued to linger on the back of his mind. He gave a little shrug, "I suppose there are few places to avoid any eyes."
"I suppose so, out here." Boromir sighed, "At least the fellowship is busy. They seem very content here, even Master Gimli."
Frodo nodded a bit. He felt himself like he could spend the rest of his days under the leaves of Lorien.
Boromir moved closer, capturing Frodo without warning into a deep kiss. Frodo could do nothing but whimper and try to mouth back at the invading lips and tongue. Boromir pulled back after a moment, leaving Frodo to catch his breath.
"We hobbits don't kiss like that." He gasped, hands finding tentative purchase on the man's arms.
"No?" Boromir's touch began to roam over his flesh, making him feel entirely exposed, "I assumed since you lived in holes you'd rut like rabbits as well."
Frodo felt his face heat up. He'd only rarely heard men talk like that, and never hobbits. There was a bluntness that was beyond him. Boromir's hands crept over his back and cupped his ass, "Are you a virgin, Frodo Baggins?"
Frodo bit his lip, "I was with a hobbit lass once."
"Mm. Is she waiting for you back home?" Boromir's hands spread his cheeks.
"No. N-no she's married off I-" he felt all the sudden heavy and confused.
"No." Boromir pulled him into his lap, "No. I bet she didn't feel as sweet as my hands on you, did she?"
Frodo shivered. The rough handling intrigued him. The conversation had made him fully aroused. Boromir's hands wandered back up his sides.
"Men have many words for your kind. So sweet and soft." His hand laid over the ring on his bare chest for a moment, and Frodo broke out in a sweat. His heart sped up, and he nearly ran before Boromir moved his hands down, grabbing his hips instead. Frodo took a shaky breath. Boromir was looking him over, face unreadable. He mumbled, nearly to himself, "They may ride into battle but they are best laid in the barracks."
Frodo was starting to feel uncertain when the man's hands grasped his member and stroked roughly up and down it. Frodo's head was suddenly completely empty.
"Oh yes. You yearn for the touch of a true man." His other hand worked down, cupping, rubbing and lightly tugging on Frodo's fuzzy bollocks. He moaned softly, letting his eyes shut.
Boromir captured him in another kiss. Frodo tried to replicate his movements. It was far from the chaste, gentle kisses he'd had before. Their lips slid together hotly, and Boromir's tongue soon slipped in again. The man's hands remained busy as well, one finger teasing his perineum. Frodo gasped, thighs shaking. Boromir slid his finger further back and started pressing it in.
"No!" Frodo jerked back, "No, no thank you, that's not. That's enough."
"Shhh." Boromir held him closer, "I know you're nervous for this, I'll make it good for you. Tight, lovely little-"
"I said no, Boromir." Frodo said more firmly, "I'm quite fine not having anything go in there."
Boromir gave an irritated sigh, but moved his hands back to the hobbit's thighs. Frodo looked away, starting to feel the moment had soured before Boromir's mouth was on him again.
He kissed his jaw and neck, and Frodo could do nothing but cling to him again. The roughness of his stubble went right to Frodo's groin, making him buck his hips against the man and draw him closer. Boromir took him in his hands and kissed up to his ears, licking the shell and finally sucking on the point. Frodo squealed and came, unaware that spot could be so sensitive. Boromir stroked him through it.
Frodo was still catching his breath as Boromir moved up. He made a noise of discontent to lose the touch. But Boromir had only shifted to sit on the edge of the bathing pool, opening his legs.
"Dear Frodo, won't you return the favor?"
Frodo nodded and started stroking him. He shivered, examining again the fat head with curious fingers. He slid his hand up the length, entranced by the sheer size and girth. Boromir watched him intently, "Now use your mouth."
Frodo blinked up at him.
"It felt good when I kissed your ears, didn't it? Return the favor, halfling, put your lips on me."
Frodo bit back a moan. This all felt so filthy and strange. He pumped the man slowly, licking his lips, trying to make sure this wasn't a strange joke. He assumed Boromir was clean enough there, he was considering it. "Men do that?"
"Oh yes." He grabbed Frodo's hair and pulled him closer.
Frodo whimpered when his lips brushed against it. His own groin stirred a little despite his prior release. He gently kissed the head, feeling hot all over. He pulled back for a moment, but Boromir's hand on his head returned him. Frodo had to open his mouth to accommodate the pressing member. His lips stretched wide.
"Watch your teeth. Yes, yes, like that, now… Mmm… that's a clever tongue. Suck it. Suck more."
Frodo braced his hands on the man's thighs. It all nearly felt wrong, like too much, but not the way it did when he felt the pull to put on the ring. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not, the prickling at his neck and feeling in his gut. But he didn't want to stop, running his tongue over as Boromir inched more in, then pulled out, then repeated the motion. He groaned suddenly, imagining what the man's large mouth on him would feel like.
Boromir took that as a wide invitation, shoving himself past where he had before. Frodo gagged, grabbing firm at his thighs, trying to pull back and catch breath. He looked up at him with pleading, wide blue eyes. Boromir had something fierce in his gaze. He caught the hobbits eyes, then shivered, pulled back, and spent his load over Frodo's face.
Frodo blinked, just stunned. He felt extremely dirty for the whole thing all of the sudden. He was a noble hobbit, and above that, the Ringbearer. By no stretch of any means should he be sitting here with a man's seed dripping into his eye. His bottom lip quivered.
"Hey, hey, you're alright Frodo." He came back into the water, wiping his face gently, "I'm sorry, I was just so… so very overwhelmed with your beauty."
Frodo nodded a bit, still stunned. He let Boromir wash and coo at him. It was starting to make him feel even worse, silly that he couldn't handle the treatment of men. He pulled him in and tried to give him a kiss. Boromir turned away, "I'll let you clean yourself the rest of the way alone, alright Frodo?"
Frodo pulled back and nodded, feeling far more uncertain of himself than before.
Frodo woke up with a cold chill, then a warm press to his back and hands on him. He tensed up sharply, bracing to scream for help. One arm wrapped around his waist and the other clapped over his mouth.
"Shhh, Frodo, it's only me." Boromir whispered in his ear and pressed against him.
Frodo relaxed some, but didn't feel more comfortable for it. He was tired, mentally and physically. He was starting to feel worse and worse about receiving Boromir's affections, and he feared they would have to part soon, and didn't know how the man would react to that. Most of all, he feared for the Ring around him.
Boromir's hands hitched his shirt up and pulled his pants down, exploring his skin ravenously.
"Someone will see." Frodo whispered.
"Legolas is on watch and he's on the other side of camp. Everyone else is resting."
Frodo swallowed. He knew the elf could likely hear with his keen ears. He hoped if this went too far, he would intervene. Shame boiled in his gut to be known, but regardless, he was growing hard with Boromir's touches. The man started kissing his ears, and Frodo's protests died. He shivered and let his eyes fall shut. Perhaps he could remain passive, just receiving the touch. His throat had hurt for a while after the last interaction and he was not sure he would enjoy using his mouth to give pleasure again.
Boromir sucked on the tip of his ear and cupped his stones, fondling them. Frodo bit back a moan.
"Are you going to be good for me, Frodo?" The man stroked him with his large hands. Frodo nodded.
Boromir's weight and warmth left him for a moment. Frodo muffled his noises of disappointment. He could hear Boromir partially undressing himself, rustling. Frodo stroked himself slowly, heart racing. The secrecy they were barely managing made his pulse jump. Boromir grabbed his hips. Frodo couldn't help but be aroused by his hands, so big and rough.
"Relax, halfling. I won't hurt you, I will be gentle. It's going to feel very good for you, I promise."
Before Frodo could respond, Boromir's slicked, fat member pressed against him. The man stroked himself, trying to guide bluntly into the hobbit's hole.
"No, stop that!" Frodo said in a sharp whisper. He pulled away best he could, Boromir's hands still firm on his hips.
Boromir did not let up, "I promise, Frodo, You want to know how it feels, you're made for this. Just take me."
"I am not made for that at all, you'll break me open." Frodo felt himself sweating. He was tense, almost rigid, unable to think Boromir would push him further.
Boromir rubbed the bulbous tip against his tight pucker more, pressing in the slightest bit, "If you let me in, you'll see how much you want it. Take the head, I promise you will beg for more."
"I don't accept these promises. If you don't stop, I'll scream." Frodo closed his eyes tight, prepared for a hand on his mouth, possible violence. He hoped desperately Legolas' ears were focused, that he wouldn't let it go unspeakably far.
"Tease." Boromir growled in his ear. He slid himself down, his bruising grip pressing Frodo's thighs together tight as he slid between them. Frodo's blood was cold. The Ring burnt against his chest. He felt to blame for this, for keeping this secret and letting it go so far.
Boromir grunted softly against his neck, then licked up and bit the tip of his ear. Frodo whimpered. A bedroll near them shifted.
Boromir went still, no longer thrusting between his legs. His hand reached around and stroked Frodo back to hardness slowly and deliberately. Frodo closed his eyes tight. He wanted to push Boromir away entirely, but his body betrayed him. He was leaking already. He was afraid the man would take it as a sign and attempt to penetrate him again.
But after the camp was quiet again, Boromir rolled back between his thighs, sliding slowly. Frodo fully realized his member was sticky with some kind of lotion or salve. He hated the feeling of it on his legs, but could tell it eased the friction. Even still, he couldn't imagine the girth of it ever fitting inside him.
Boromir pulled his hair, near painfully, and sped up a bit before spilling between Frodo's legs. He pulled away, scolding, "Finish yourself off, since shared pleasure is clearly not important to you."
Frodo waited until Boromir was no longer against him to feel like he could breathe. He tried not to suck in breath too fast, still trying to reason what happened. He went soft, then wiped the mess as best he could. The man had become crueler. Frodo knew in his heart the cause, and could not look poorly upon him for it. The same lust that drove them together was a dangerous thing. Galadriel's warning echoed in his ears.
Boromir came and sat beside Frodo. "Are you sure that you do not suffer needlessly?" he said. "I wish to help you. You need counsel in your hard choice. Will you not take mine?"
"I think I know already what counsel you would give," said Frodo. "And it would seem like wisdom but for the warning of my heart."
"Warning? Warning against what?’ said Boromir sharply.
"Against delay. Against the way that seems easier. Against refusal of the burden that is laid on me. Against – well, if it must be said, against trust in the strength and truth of Men."
"Yet that strength has long protected you far away in your little country, though you knew it not." Boromir growled, pacing closer.
Frodo swallowed, hardening his heart. Before he could continue, the man's hands were on his shoulders. It was a rough grip, and the ferocity of it shook Frodo.
"You know nothing of strength. You won't be able to take it to the end, not you. I know what strength is needed, and where to use it. Give me the Ring, Frodo. It weighs on you. I will wield it with purpose."
Frodo recoiled, heart pounding. He didn't want to scream, just not yet, but there was fear for his own wellbeing and more importantly that of the quest.
“Why do you recoil? I am no thief.” Boromir pressed closer. “You would give it me freely. We will go to Minas Tirith, and you will have no burden upon you any longer. I would be privileged to keep you in my bedchamber, you would not want for anything. You will serve me. They will all serve me. I will keep my people safe, we will not fall. I will be the rightful king-”
Frodo spit in his face, then struggled to break free from his hold. The fight was clearly unmatched. Boromir struck him, then grabbed Frodo, able to manipulate the full weight of his body with relative ease. He forced him down atop a mound of dirt. Before Frodo could scramble away, the man pinned his wrists up with one hand and yanked off his trousers down with the other.
Frodo tensed up significantly, the gravity of the situation pressing on him. He felt a chill worm into his stomach. Boromir ripped the fabric of his clothing.
He shook his head, “You cannot do this. You will not do this. Take your hands off me.”
Boromir pressed two wet fingers into Frodo. The hobbit closed his eyes, feeling sick, stretched and violated. They worked in him, rough and quick, before Boromir pressed the bulging head of his erection against him. He leaned close, speaking soft and firm into his ear, “This will show you, halfling, what real power feels like. You will know me and you will submit to me.”
Frodo went limp, allowing his body to be brutally used by the man he trusted. He kept his eyes closed and tried not to focus on the aching, tearing intrusion. The fingers on his hip bones were bruisingly tight in their grip. Boromir grunted above him as he pounded in rhythmically.
Boromir pressed down harder and placed his hands on Frodo’s member. He was soft, desire not present in him. Boromir squeezed it in punishment, making the hobbit whimper. “You will learn to find pleasure when you are mine, my own.”
Frodo heard the tinge in his voice. He felt tears streak his face. This was not Boromir, this was the corruption the Ring wrought on him. Would it break his other friends, his companions? Disgust rolled through him. He knew he would need to leave, alone and fast, as soon as he could escape the man.
“Mine! Mine!” Boromir punctuated with hard thrusts. He grunted and spilled his seed deep inside him. Frodo shuddered. The man pulled off him.
“Now, Frodo, you see, I-”
Frodo vanished.