Dessert

Summary: Faramir tells Éomer of his hidden desire.

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“It is a great comfort to me, dear sister, to see you becoming ever more well.”  Éomer crossed the room and set upon a small table beside the bed a basket containing two books he had purchased and a box of sweets.  He pulled the chair closer to her bed and sat down.  “They tell me your appetite is returning.  I thought I might gift you with these.”  From the basket he produced the candies and handed them to her.

Éowyn smiled fondly at her brother.  She accepted the box, but only momentarily.  “I still can stomach only the lightest of fare.  These will go to waste if they wait for me.  Here, you should take them,” she suggested, holding them back out to him.

His hands took hold of the box.  “But they are your favorites,” he said by way of final plea to her.

“As are they yours.”  The shield maiden turned her attentions back to the basket.  “I see you have provided me with something far more entertaining than fudge.  Do not worry about me,” she said as he frowned, his eyes cast upon the package he held.  “The healers have provided many delicious variations of broths, so I have not felt at all neglected or deprived.”

She plucked the larger of the two volumes from the basket.  “This one looks to be of interest.”  Within a few moments, she was immersed in the book, nearly oblivious of her brother.

“Did you want these curtains opened?” he asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Hmm?  Oh, yes, thank you.”

Éomer walked to the window and pushed back the drapery.  Light flooded into the room.  “Can I get you anything else?”  Éowyn shook her head and turned the page.  “I will return later to see how you are feeling.”  His sister nodded.

As Éomer crossed the room again to leave, his sister picked up the box where he had set it down upon the bed and held it out to him.  “Do not forget these.”

“Of course.  You are sure?”  Éomer’s question was answered with a nod.

As he stepped out into the hallway, he felt as if someone was watching him.  Turning his head, he noticed the door across the hall was open, and indeed someone was keeping an eye upon him as he closed the door to Éowyn’s room.

It was not the first time he had caught the steward’s son looking his way.  Éomer frowned and tried to ignore it as he walked away, but something nagged him.  He turned around and found himself in the doorway of the watcher’s room.

Faramir was slightly startled to see the new King of the Rohirrim standing by his door.  “Can I help you with something?” he asked, very unsure of himself.

“Why do you always stare at me?” The question was not very politely asked, but then Éomer decided that staring at someone was really not very polite either.

“No reason,” replied Faramir quickly.

Éomer ventured further into the room.  Just like the one his sister was in, this was a private room in the houses of healing.  The curtains were tied back, allowing a breeze to ruffle the bed sheets and Faramir’s loose chestnut hair.  “You simply like to stare at others?”

“No.”  Faramir looked away, turning his attention to the book that was open in his lap.  “I did not mean to disturb you.”

The man of Rohan reached down and shut the book, causing Faramir to look up at him.  “I would have you explain yourself.”

Faramir said nothing.  His hands took hold of the book and reopened it, only to have it taken from him.  “Is this your way in Rohan?  Annoy until you have received your answer?”

“I can tell when I am being lied to.  Until you decide to tell me the truth, I shall entrust this into my care.”  He tucked the book and the box of candies his sister had rejected under his arm and began to leave.

As he stepped from the room, Éomer heard the rustle of the sheet but did not turn back.  Halfway down the corridor, Faramir called out his name.  “If you return, then I... I shall tell you.”

Éomer paused.  Finally, he turned around and came back down the hall.  Book still held firmly, he waited for Faramir’s response.

“Come back inside,” Faramir said, his gaze cast down.  “And shut the door.”

After completing the requests, Éomer leaned against the closed door while Faramir went to the window.  “Well?  Are you wasting my time or will you speak the truth to me?”

“The truth is not easy for me to say, and may not be easy for you to hear.”  Faramir took a deep breath.  “I have spoken with your sister, and-“

“What of my sister?” Éomer’s gaze darkened.  “If you have intentions towards her-“

“Nay, allow me to speak!  You wish for the answer, give me leave to tell you.”  Faramir turned back around to face Éomer.  “Your sister has told me many things of the culture of your homeland, while I shared with her much of the Gondorian way of life.  One thing which was in my opinion peculiar was mention of love shared betwixt two warriors.  This is not something which would be seen here as acceptable.”

“So you look upon me as some sort of monster or vile creature, that I would share my bed with my comrades?” growled Éomer.

“Nay again!  Are all men of Rohan so quick to draw erroneous conclusion?”

Éomer continued to regard Faramir spitefully.  “What other conclusion am I to come to?”

Again Faramir looked out over the courtyard.  “Never would I have considered taking pleasure with one of my fellows, but that was before I had seen the great horse lords of your land.  I can understand now the attractions you see in one another.”

Éomer’s expression softened.  “So, you do not stare in contempt?”

“I look, but not with disapproval.  Only with wonder, curiosity, and perhaps something more.”

Éomer considered this and stepped over to Faramir and held out the book he had taken.  “You are attracted to one of my warriors?”

Faramir’s cheeks reddened slightly and he looked back out over the courtyard after taking his book back.  “Perhaps.  But I dare not speak of such things to my own comrades.  There is no love for such things here in Gondor.  I once laughed at the jokes my brother made about men who engaged in passionate acts with one another, but now it seems I may have been the subject of his jests if he were still alive.”

“Were he still alive, perhaps his mind would have been changed as well.”  Éomer watched Faramir nod, but it was sad and half-hearted.  “If it would suit you, I could introduce you properly to whomever you find yourself attracted to.  I would say not why, either, if you preferred.”

“That will not be necessary,” said Faramir quickly.

“Are you afraid your comrades will scorn you?  If you were discrete, they might never know.”

“Nay, though I would be discrete, it is not for that reason which I decline your offer.”

Éomer frowned.  “For what purpose do you hesitate, then?”  Faramir remained silent, and it caused Éomer to heave a great sigh.  “I cannot aid you if you will not allow me to.”

“What sort of aid would you be willing to give?”

The noble closed the space between them.  “Rohan has always come to the aid of Gondor.”

“How far are you willing to go for Gondor?”

“Rohan will do whatever is needed.”

Faramir turned away from the window to face Éomer, his book held with one arm.  The other he raised, his fingertips lightly touching Éomer’s cheek.  “When I saw you ride into the courtyard, I felt myself captivated.  Every time you come to visit your sister, I sit in bed and steal glances across the hall.  I am eager to learn of your ways, but not with one of your soldiers.”

“Then I shall gladly teach you.”  Éomer mimicked Faramir’s movement, brushing his hand over the dark stubble.  He cupped Faramir’s chin with his free hand and leaned in, pressing his lips against the other man’s.  Faramir’s eyes grew wide and he pulled away.  “Not what you were expecting, was it?” asked Éomer as Faramir took a step away.

“Hold a moment,” Faramir hissed as he hurried to the door as fast as he was able, being weakened by his injuries.  “We must be discrete!  There are rules against this here, and we must take care!”  He set to pulling the curtains closed and locking the door.  Once he was satisfied, he sat down upon the bed and placed his book aside.  “A moment; I must regain my strength.”

Éomer joined him, setting the box of candy atop the book.  “You happen to be precisely where we want to end up,” he informed Faramir with a little laughter.  While Faramir recovered, Éomer searched the cabinet beside the bed for lubricant.  He found a jar of ointment that seemed it would work well enough and he set it to join the pile of items on the top of the cabinet.  “Maybe you should lie down,” Éomer suggested as he coaxed Faramir onto his back.

A light breeze stole into the room beneath the curtains as Éomer stood and began to remove his jerkin and belt, setting his sword reverently upon the table in the corner of the room.  He removed his shirt and upon doing so noticed Faramir watching him.  “Does it make you uncomfortable to see me undress?”

“Nay, it is a delight to watch this vision before me.  Your kind are so strong and handsomely built.  I enjoy watching you.”

Once he had disrobed, Éomer sat back down on the bed again.  “When does the healer check on you?”

“Not for another hour at least,” replied Faramir.

“More than enough time,” said Éomer with a smile.  He aligned himself with the Gondorian and stroked his cheek.  “It would please me very much to kiss you once again, if you would allow me to.”

Faramir nodded.  He propped himself upon his side, and Éomer did the same so that they faced each other.  Their lips met, Faramir timidly exploring while Éomer was at first gentle, but eventually became more aggressive.  “I am at a disadvantage to you,” said Éomer.  “We must remove this clothing from you, else we will not have much success in this endeavor.”

As Éomer’s hands slid down with every intention of taking the long nightshirt off of Faramir, he was met with resistance.  “Be kind.  I am not built as you Rohirrim are.”

“Let us see what you hesitate to show me.”  Éomer grasped the hem of the shirt and slowly peeled it upwards, revealing Faramir a centimeter at a time.  As the shirt was pulled over Faramir’s head, Éomer was treated with a delightful view of a toned, tanned body with not quite the bulk of his own but still very pleasant to look upon.  “You are more an archer,” he commented.

As Faramir nodded in affirmation, Éomer bent his head and began to taste the body beside him.  His rough hands took hold of Faramir’s hips and pushed the Gondorian onto his back before he bowed over him and licked the underside of his limp length.  Faramir moaned and Éomer repeated the action, over and over, until the erection was firm.

“Do you like chocolate?” asked Éomer suddenly.  Faramir, who had been panting and gripping the sheets, his head thrashing from one side to the other, lifted his head slowly.  “I just had an idea,” explained Éomer as he crawled to the side of the bed and retrieved the box from the table.  He tugged off the ribbon wrapped around it and lifted the lid.  Inside were twelve identical smooth square shapes.  As he picked up one of the candies he repeated his question and Faramir nodded.

Éomer bit down on the piece of fudge, but not hard enough to bite all the way through.  He crawled up the length of Faramir’s body, smearing a line of chocolate down his hard length, across his flat stomach, and over the patch of dark hair on his chest.  A smudge got on Faramir’s chin before the remainder was offered to him, and the pair kissed deeply as Éomer placed the chocolate into Faramir’s mouth.

Then Éomer traced his path back down again, lapping up the chocolaty trail he had made.  He sucked hard on Faramir’s length to ensure he cleaned off all of the fudge.  By this time Faramir was groaning and panting so loudly that Éomer feared one of the healers thinking him in pain might unlock the door and walk into the room, so he reached for the jar from the cabinet.

“Some of your wounds have yet to heal fully,” observed Éomer as he dabbed his fingers into the jar.  “Once you are well again I look forward to showing you the same pleasures you shall show me.  For now, you will need to initiate and be atop me.”

Faramir simply nodded and took the opportunity to catch his breath as Éomer prepared himself.  It mesmerized him to watch the horse lord gently insert his fingers, then twist and turn them, add another, pump them in and out.  Every push in seemed to sooth the warrior and excite him further, until Éomer was also erect.

Then the rider offered himself to be ridden, arranging himself on the bed upon his hands and knees.  Faramir was apprehensive, but Éomer provided words of encouragement and soon the two were engaged in their first true act of intercourse.  Though brief as it was, the intensity made up for the short encounter.

Just over an hour after Éomer had first entered, a knock came upon the door.  Faramir bid whoever it was to enter.  The healer strolled in, nodding to the man from Rohan who was sitting by the bedside reading.  “How are we feeling this evening?”

“Better than I had been, thank you,” replied Faramir before being subjected to a bit of poking and prodding and a few more questions.

“Hmm.. mmmhmm… hmm…”  The healer made a note in a little book he kept with him constantly.  “You do seem to be faring better than yesterday.  Your color is returning.  Perhaps over the next few days we can incorporate a bit of light exercise into your recovery.”

“I think I should enjoy that,” said Faramir, briefly glancing at his companion, who grinned behind the pages of the book he pretended to be engrossed in.

“Supper will be sent up in ten minutes time,” added the healer as he was about to leave.  “Does your friend intend to stay for supper?”

Faramir looked to Éomer, who gave a little nod.  “If it would not be too much trouble.”

“That will be fine.  I just need to know how much food to have them send up.”  The healer bid them a good night and traveled across the hall to check on Éowyn’s progress.

When the tray arrived, Faramir wrinkled his nose at the spiced pudding.  “Not fond of this,” he said, picking up the bowl.

Éomer shook his head as it was offered to him.  “Neither am I.  Although, I do know someone who is,” he said as he took the bowl and stood up.  “My sister will enjoy it well enough.”

“Although that leaves us without dessert,” sighed Faramir as he buttered a hunk of bread.

Éomer smiled predatorily.  “We can still have dessert.”

“But we ate all of the fudge,” Faramir reminded him.  When Éomer remained standing, grinning at him, Faramir suddenly grinned back.

“You might even get two or three helpings of dessert this evening,” said Éomer with a wink before he wandered across the hall.

The End