Kink Ficlet: Gleam
Apr. 2nd, 2003 04:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
keelywolfeAhhh, yes. I have e-mail to reply to, a house to clean, and I'm here writing a kink ficlet.
The shame.
Nothing here so shocking that anyone should cringe, so I'm letting this kink be a surprise. ;)
Gleam
By keely
~~*~~
He was no stranger to walking long distances. Once he had walked for half a day on a broken ankle when his horse had thrown him, clenching his teeth on every lightning flash of pain that had ridden a path up his leg and still he had walked on, never faltering. He had walked to the House of Healing on his own feet and had ignored the scolding he received for it while he was bandaged. He had endured pain time and again in his life without complaint, and fresh humiliation drew to the surface like blood from a wound that this simple thing would finally break the limits of his endurance.
Dark eyes were watching him through lowered lashes, thoughtful and knowing, and Boromir firmed his steps, determined not to be bested by this Man, by the soft chafe of metal between his legs.
He had first seen it on Aragorn, had been utterly shocked by the shimmer of metal wrapped around tender flesh, gleaming silvery white in the light from the fingernail sliver of the moon. Three luminous rings held him in a cold embrace and yet Boromir had been more scandalized that anyone would think to use mithril in such a manner.
Aragorn had smiled, his obvious amusement at Boromir's outrage stinging further and he had touched the rings lightly, sliding a fingertip over their liquid glow like one might test the sharpness of a blade.
"Lovely, is it not?" Uncertain as to whether Aragorn was speaking of the rings or himself, Boromir had found himself nodding regardless, only to still in shock as Aragorn added in soft, pleasant tones, "I believe it would be lovely on you as well. You shall wear it tomorrow while we travel."
Sharp refusals had burned on his tongue like the taste of ashes, utterly offended that Aragorn would attempt to breech their unspoken agreements so carelessly. These matters did not continue into the light of day, not by a single touch or word, and did Aragorn attempt to make it otherwise...it could not be allowed. Enough of his dignity had already been lost to this man, sacrificed each night at the last crimson touch of the Sun. More would be unacceptable.
Yet before he could release his bitter flood of insults, Aragorn had stepped closer, leaning against Boromir like one too weak to stand and he had whispered in sweet, mocking submission, "If you do, I'll let you take me."
His voice became the cruelest of caresses, touching Boromir in a fashion that he could not prevent and he had been betrayed yet again by the rush of lust pooling between his legs, silvery heat that matched the rings Aragorn was carefully sliding from his body. It had left him trembling, his pride once again tattered with little more than words.
And though he never murmured words of agreement, his silence was as telling as permission when he did not refuse the gentle touches of fingertips; the warmed metal rings carefully eased and settled in their proper places.
They had remained since that moment, cupping him in their unyielding grip, and yet he walked, unable to stop his thoughts from considering his reward though it only pained him further. He would have Aragorn on his knees this night, his wrists bound as he was taken, as brutally or tenderly as Boromir might wish. This night would be his night to hear blissfully sweet words of pleading.
Cradled in a King's ransom of mithril, Boromir walked on, both warmed and agonized by his thoughts of revenge.
-finis-
The shame.
Nothing here so shocking that anyone should cringe, so I'm letting this kink be a surprise. ;)
Gleam
By keely
~~*~~
He was no stranger to walking long distances. Once he had walked for half a day on a broken ankle when his horse had thrown him, clenching his teeth on every lightning flash of pain that had ridden a path up his leg and still he had walked on, never faltering. He had walked to the House of Healing on his own feet and had ignored the scolding he received for it while he was bandaged. He had endured pain time and again in his life without complaint, and fresh humiliation drew to the surface like blood from a wound that this simple thing would finally break the limits of his endurance.
Dark eyes were watching him through lowered lashes, thoughtful and knowing, and Boromir firmed his steps, determined not to be bested by this Man, by the soft chafe of metal between his legs.
He had first seen it on Aragorn, had been utterly shocked by the shimmer of metal wrapped around tender flesh, gleaming silvery white in the light from the fingernail sliver of the moon. Three luminous rings held him in a cold embrace and yet Boromir had been more scandalized that anyone would think to use mithril in such a manner.
Aragorn had smiled, his obvious amusement at Boromir's outrage stinging further and he had touched the rings lightly, sliding a fingertip over their liquid glow like one might test the sharpness of a blade.
"Lovely, is it not?" Uncertain as to whether Aragorn was speaking of the rings or himself, Boromir had found himself nodding regardless, only to still in shock as Aragorn added in soft, pleasant tones, "I believe it would be lovely on you as well. You shall wear it tomorrow while we travel."
Sharp refusals had burned on his tongue like the taste of ashes, utterly offended that Aragorn would attempt to breech their unspoken agreements so carelessly. These matters did not continue into the light of day, not by a single touch or word, and did Aragorn attempt to make it otherwise...it could not be allowed. Enough of his dignity had already been lost to this man, sacrificed each night at the last crimson touch of the Sun. More would be unacceptable.
Yet before he could release his bitter flood of insults, Aragorn had stepped closer, leaning against Boromir like one too weak to stand and he had whispered in sweet, mocking submission, "If you do, I'll let you take me."
His voice became the cruelest of caresses, touching Boromir in a fashion that he could not prevent and he had been betrayed yet again by the rush of lust pooling between his legs, silvery heat that matched the rings Aragorn was carefully sliding from his body. It had left him trembling, his pride once again tattered with little more than words.
And though he never murmured words of agreement, his silence was as telling as permission when he did not refuse the gentle touches of fingertips; the warmed metal rings carefully eased and settled in their proper places.
They had remained since that moment, cupping him in their unyielding grip, and yet he walked, unable to stop his thoughts from considering his reward though it only pained him further. He would have Aragorn on his knees this night, his wrists bound as he was taken, as brutally or tenderly as Boromir might wish. This night would be his night to hear blissfully sweet words of pleading.
Cradled in a King's ransom of mithril, Boromir walked on, both warmed and agonized by his thoughts of revenge.
-finis-
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-04-02 03:44 pm (UTC)Cradled in a King's ransom of mithril, Boromir walked on, both warmed and agonized by his thoughts of revenge.
nice...
no subject
Date: 2003-04-04 08:07 am (UTC)