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Author of 58 Stories |
Faramir, for all his youth and inexperience, has already decided that the libraries of Minas Tirith are the best places to become lost in. They are expansive and dimly-lit, winding corridors full of rows and rows of old scrolls and books and papers. The secrets of Gondor and Middle Earth are hidden in every nook and cranny of the massive libraries.
The libraries, too, are a nice place to get lost in with someone else. Especially, Faramir thinks, if it is his older brother. It is wet and raining outside and thus Boromir has been excused from his practices today. Faramir took it upon himself to steal his brother away after breakfast, leading him down the dusty trails and shadowed eaves to find privacy and solice.
And so, Faramir squirms quietly, trying not to make a sound as Boromir kisses his neck and works one calloused hand under Faramir's linen tunic. Faramir buries his hands in his brother's golden hair; it's growing out longer and Faramir likes the feel of it in his hands.
"Aah... brother...!" he cries out softly, rocking in Boromir's lap. His older brother's hands are wicked, but Faramir doesn't think he should complain.
"Ssshhh, brother," Boromir whispers, the hint of a new beard across his jaw shadowed by the candlelight. "You're not supposed to talk in the library."
- Owari -