Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/292205.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Lord_of_the_Rings_-_J._R._R._Tolkien, The_Lord_of_the_Rings_-_All_Media
      Types
  Relationship:
      Boromir/Faramir
  Character:
      Boromir, Faramir
  Additional Tags:
      Sibling_Incest, Underage_Sex, Table_Sex, Self-Discovery, Masturbation,
      Brothers
  Series:
      Part 2 of Five_Years_the_Elder
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-12-12 Words: 1448
****** In Accord ******
by Persephone
Summary
     Faramir is now 15, a maturing boy with a deep thirst for knowledge,
     and he wishes to teach his older brother about patience.
     Inspired by: The_Steward's_Writing_Table, by E.W.
Notes
     Warning: In this story, Faramir is 15.
Boromir hurried down the white stone hallway towards his father’s rooms. It was
mid-morning, and he had been looking for Faramir for hours. It was just a few
minutes ago that a guard had told him Faramir was most likely in his father’s
rooms.
The night before, he had turned over in his bed to find that Faramir had left,
and the dent that had held him was cold. Boromir had gotten out of bed and, as
was now habit, looked in on Faramir to make certain he was in fact in his own
bed. He found him there, sleeping peacefully. Faramir was only fifteen, but he
had already developed a sense of how to watch out for both of them.
But it also meant that he woke up every morning burning to get rough in
Faramir’s heat. The only exception this morning was that his need seemed worse
than it had been for a while.
Now as he strode down the hallway, that need was overshadowed by a panic he
tried hard to quell. Denethor was presently in audience in the White Tower, so
why would Faramir be in his rooms? It could only mean that his father had
called Faramir in there this morning for another one of his talks, and had made
Faramir stay there as punishment after he left.
Finally Boromir was pushing open the thick wooden door of the front room of his
father’s chambers. He stepped inside and saw Faramir standing by the wide open
balcony doors, leaning against Denethor’s large writing desk.
“Faramir…” he whispered across the room.
Faramir turned his head and looked at him. “Hello, brother,” he said, and
smiled slowly.
Boromir’s heart bumped. The morning sunlight poured into the room, bathing his
brother on its way in, turning strands of his black hair into midnight blue.
Faramir lifted his hand and beckoned to him. Boromir walked until he rounded
the table and stood directly in front of his brother, his back to the balcony.
He peered into Faramir’s face.
“I am fine,” Faramir smiled gently. His hand lifted and rested on Boromir’s
chest. Then his fingers clenched slowly until he held a fistful of Boromir’s
shirt. “He left a long time ago.”
“Then what are you still doing here?”
“Waiting for you.”
Boromir’s brows furrowed. “Why?”
Faramir shifted backwards until he sat on their father’s broad writing desk. He
spread his legs and pulled Boromir to him.
“Because early this morning I read a chapter in a book.”
Faramir said nothing further, and Boromir asked thickly, “And what did your
book say?”
Faramir shrugged. “A myriad of things,” he said, leaning back on his hands.
“But I am one to decide for myself.”
Even as he vaguely wondered what kind of chapter in what kind of book his
brother had studied, Faramir’s legs wrapped around his, pulling him closer.
“This is dangerous, Faramir.”
“Aye.” Faramir stared up at him with shining eyes. “But not without purpose.”
“And the purpose being?”
Faramir slowly smiled at him. “It will come to you. But in the meantime, remove
your shirt.”
Boromir's previous worry for Faramir’s well being vanished. He pulled off his
shirt, thankful that their father’s room was far above the ground facing the
east. No one could see.
“We will go slow,” Faramir said. Boromir nodded over and over. Faramir laughed
and Boromir found himself staring at his brother’s beautiful face.
“We will,” Faramir insisted.
He began from Faramir’s hips and pushed his shirt up until it slipped over his
head. His hands slid back down and as Faramir lifted himself he pulled
Faramir’s breeches off. Faramir’s cock sprang up against his stomach.
“I read this morning,” Faramir whispered as he watched Boromir remove his own
breeches, “that a good elder brother takes care of his younger brother.”
“Aye,” Boromir managed to say. He stepped out of his clothes and placed his
hands on either side of Faramir’s body. He leaned forward and covered Faramir’s
mouth with his own, kissing him deeply. 
Between their bodies he swiped a finger over his wet tip, then rubbed it on
Faramir’s entrance. His brother moaned, leaning back and lifting his feet on to
the table.
“And also that when brothers love each other few things in the world can match
it. Do you think that is why—” Farmir gasped heatedly as Boromir’s cock pushed
into him, “—why this feels so good?”
Boromir heard himself grunting something in reply before he wrapped his arms
around Faramir’s thighs and thrust deep.
“Boromir!” his brother quietly cried out, and sank backwards, his eyes closing
blissfully. As his back touched the smooth wooden desk his feet slid off it,
placing him completely in Boromir’s arms. Boromir watched as Faramir’s face
began to glow.
“Who am I to you, Boromir?” Faramir whispered.
“You are my beloved brother,” he said hoarsely, struggling. It was not the time
to speak… He pulled out as far as he could and thrust smoothly back in.
“Oh, yes, brother,” Faramir panted, gripping the edge of the table. “Now hold
still.”
Boromir held still and shook with the effort. “Like this?” he asked, his voice
shaking along with his body.
Faramir made no response in words, only sounds. His hand hovered over his cock
 momentarily before descending and encasing its shaft. Boromir listened and
watched, mesmerized.
Faramir was no longer a child, for his movements were assured to elicit his own
pleasure, and the sounds he made were low and sensual. But nor was he yet a
man, for when he cried out Boromir’s name it was with such sweet trust that the
fierce need to protect him shot through Boromir once more.
He remember Faramir as a baby, as a little toddler, and as a young boy, and yet
he did not wonder how it came to be that he was now inside him as a lover. 
He would do anything his brother asked. And he would do it to the best of his
abilities. But he could no longer hold still.
“C-can I move, Faramir?” he rasped.
Faramir’s chin slowly lifted, his head falling back even farther. He touched
his fingers up his length, over and over, his muscles squeezing rhythmically
around Boromir. Boromir’s breath caught so that he could not even gasp aloud.
Faramir's books had taught him something new.
“Pull out all the way to your tip,” Faramir panted softly. Boromir pulled out
nearly all the way. “Tease me with it.”
His stomach clenched, staying that way as he did his best to pump the head of
his cock in and out of Faramir’s heat.
“I like the way it sounds,” Faramir whispered, between breaths. He looked down
at Faramir’s face, at the results of his efforts, and realized he was in
trouble. Faramir was far gone, and he was bordering on pain.
“Faramir,” he pleaded.
“Oh yes, brother.” Faramir was panting very hard now, one hand gripping the
table, the other slicked and wet as it flew up and down his cock. Boromir
realized to his surprise that Faramir was near his climax. “My wonderful… my
magnificent…”
Boromir whined. A moment later Faramir slid all the way down on his cock.
Boromir let out an ecstatic groan and spread his legs, bracing himself to move.
Faramir’s legs fell farther apart against his arms. “Hard, Boromir.”
Boromir pounded until the desk was scraping across the stone floor. He was
groaning deep inside his throat, and Faramir was panting beautifully, precisely
in control, for now, for the first time, they were in accord.
Boromir continually pulled Faramir’s body possessively against his own, ran his
hands over his thighs, daring anything and anyone to come between them.
Faramir cried out and clutched Boromir by the hip, and Boromir realized he had
been speaking aloud. Faramir pumped his cock a few more times, then pressed it
against Boromir’s stomach and spurted hard against him.
Boromir took one look at the bliss on his brother’s face and came hard.
He collapsed on top of Faramir, and as they waited for their breathing to
return to normal he found himself thinking that he must remember to shift
Denethor’s writing table back to its former position.
Then it hit him like a swordhilt to the head what they had just risked in their
father’s rooms. By the Valar, he was twenty and should know better, but he was
afraid he did not.
He thought of Faramir's words and still wondered at the purpose of this
madness.
Whatever it was, he knew one thing for certain, he must take control and act
more responsibly in the future. If not for his sake, then for Faramir’s.
End
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