Boromir shut the door behind himself as Therassa moved to the other side of the room, she noticed that the servants had lit the fireplace, the room was warm and the orange flickering glow made the shadows dance upon the walls. Sliding her shoes from her feet into the corner of the room, she then made her way to stand before the fire, barefoot upon hard wood floors.
Glancing at Boromir who seemed to linger by the door, her gaze wandered over to the chair. There lay a new gown for the next day and her bag of belongings that she had carried along the journey from Gondor. A wave of relief overcame her, glad to know that the book Faramir had given her would be with her still. It was unusual how much a random book on elves could mean so much to her when given to her by a friend. Smiling to herself, she returned her attentions to the fire.
Boromir stepped closer to her, still keeping a respectful distance, watching her expectantly. Finally she spoke, "Do we want this?" her voice was low and soft. He shifted his weight, looking upon her admiringly by the fires glow.
When he did not make a sound she looked to him, wondering why. Seeing his examining gaze she said nothing, allowing the silence to continue. Finally he strode, slowly, towards her staring into her eyes. Leaving a step between them she asked again, "Do we?"
With a simple incline of his head, she knew that his answer was there's. If she had said no, he would've have left respectfully. Placing his hands gently on her hips, pulling her body to him to fill the space between them, he kissed her gently. Soft and sweet, tender and loving, it was so different from the desperate passions that seemed to take place a little time ago.
She nibbled upon his lip, slowly encouraging their mouths to widen and allow their tongues to explore the others. As the kiss deepened, her hands began to snake up his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck securely holding him in an intense vice. Their breathing became deeper, breathless, and erratic.
Her hands began to feel the strong chest more intimately, hard, muscular and broad. And as her hands travelled down she finally found the belt buckle which she undid easily. Parting from one anothers' kiss, he unfastened his tunic and slid it from him. She let the belt slide from her fingers and loosened the strings of his shirts.
Pulling it over his head, he stood bare chest before her. Taken back by the sturdy strength of the muscles, she touched his chest timidly, not used to feeling another man's body so intimately. Across his skin were cuts, some still mending. About his waist was a bandage. Instantly, she traced her fingers over it, her brow furrowing, realising the extent of his injuries. Looking upon his face, wanting to know what it was that was so sore that it had to be bound.
"Oh Boromir," she whispered, feeling the healing cuts across his body, the ones upon his face, his arms.
"Please Therassa, why must you always worry for me? I cannot stand it. They are healing, they do not hurt. I am not hurt." He took her hands between his and squeezed them tight, then placed gentle kisses upon the tips of her fingers. When she said nothing he did not let go but watched her affectionately. "My lady, Is this truly what you want?"
That question encouraged her thoughts to roam and so she began to remember what she was running from and who she was intending to lie with. How she wanted to hold him, take him into a passionate embrace. But she could not. He wanted her, but why? He was willing to touch what his loathsome father had touched. To take her, why would he? If it were her in his place, she would not be able to face herself, to be anywhere close to the whore who lay with blood. Perhaps he truly cared for her and these truths did not matter or maybe he just wanted someone, anyone as his father did.
"My lady?"
"Why do you want me? You tell me you care. How can you? I feel so befouled, so tainted. What makes it so easy for you to want me, knowing that I was the very slut who was made to bed your father almost every night? Boromir, why? I would not touch me. I could not…"
Dropping to her knees, sliding away from him, she hid her face as her voice faded and a hopeless whimper erupted from her broken form. Boromir, hurting as he saw her cry, crouched beside her, timidly wrapping an arm about her shoulders, wishing her to hush so that he did not have to hear her painful cries.
"What you were does not change who you are." He whispered, slowly as he tried to find words, "You are still Therassa, who I have been unable to stop thinking of ever since I met you." She seemed to become still as he said this, so he continued. "To know that my father was using you as a thing he could take when he pleased, a woman of such spirit did not deserve that and I felt guilty for allowing it to remain that way. Soon I became enraged by seeing you, feeling as though you had let it upon yourself, thinking that you were beginning to believe that his treatment was acceptable. Until that day I confronted you at the White Tree. Finally, all became understood and I wanted to protect you. I needed to protect you. The more we met to plan your escape with me, the more I spoke to you, had gotten to know you… the more I loved you. I could never hate you. Do not hate yourself; it was never your fault."
Giving an uneven sigh, she looked into his eyes, curiously, thankfully but her heart still aching and murmured, "'Love'?"
Boromir seemed taken aback but realisation dawned on him, recalling his words just moments ago. An embarrassed smile shone in his eyes and he averted them, "I do."
Wiping away the tears from her eyes, she placed a loving kiss upon his cheek, "And I you." she whispered as she hugged him, her lips beside his ear. The tingle as her warm breath tickled his skin sent a shiver down his spine. He grinned widely at her words and pulled back from the embrace to gaze upon her loving face, a sadness present in her eyes but a relief visible in her being.
Kissing his cheek again, she began to trail across to his lips, moulding hers to his in a desperate passion, needing him now, more than ever. Knowing he loved her made this moment perfect and desired.
Shifting to his knees so they kneeled before one another in front of the crackling fire, he placed his hands firmly upon her hips. Straddling his lap, she wrapped her arms about his neck, their kiss deepening. Slowly, his hands moved along her thigh and began to gather the fabric of her gown into his hands, lifting it, his fingers stroking her leg as the cloth went up. Raising herself slightly to free some of the fabric, he finally pulled the dress up over her head, she lifting her arms up as it slid over her body before returning them to his shoulders.
Casting the dress aside, he caressed her thigh, and hip, revelling in the touch of her skin as he stared at her naked body so close to him. Returning to kiss one another, her hands clinging to his back as the feel of his rough hands upon her tender skin sent excitement rippling through her being.
Throwing her head back, he planted kisses down her neck, upon her collar bone and down between her round, plump breasts. She moaned and longed for her lips to be pressed against his again.
Rocking forward, grasping her waist to steady her, he laid her back upon the hard, warm wooden floor. Kneeling before her, watching the orange glow light her every curve, his fingers caressing her stomach tenderly, he took in every detail of the woman he loved. Leaning down to kiss just above her belly button and working upwards to her neck again, holding her breasts in his hands and caressing the nipples, he felt they were ready.
Lifting his head to look upon her face, her eyes were shut delicately in pleasure until she felt his lips leave her skin. Her eyes said all he needed to know.
He removed his leggings, kicking them from his legs so that he was now bare. Running her hands along his chest, she seemed to fight not to flinch as she felt the healing wounds. At last, lifting her legs, locking his hips between her thighs, she felt him enter. Sinking into her slowly, holding her body close, her breasts upon his chest as Therassa and Boromir remained unmoving at first, adjusting to the feel of one another.
She wrapped her arms about him, her fingers pressed into his back as he placed his hand on one side of her to hold himself up so that his weight was not crushing her whilst the other held her hip for support. Kissing him softly told the warrior that she was ready.
He began to rock his hips back and forth, hers in time with his, grinding hard against him as the passion intensified. Repressing moans of pleasure and loving the deep groans rising from Boromir, Therassa held him even tighter, her nails digging into his skin as the pleasure claimed her body. It became harder and harder to control their cries of ecstasy as they made deep, passionate love, exhilarating and perfect, their skin moist with perspiration beside the flames of the fireplace
Therassa gasped as she climaxed, Boromir grunting seconds after as he finally came. Collapsing upon her, both of them breathless and indescribably happy, she ran a hand through his, now damp, long hair, a loving gesture that made him chuckle with delight. Neither could speak, enjoying the feel of one another's hot, elated bodies upon the others as they tried to regain their breath.
Finally he rolled off of her and instantly she missed his heat, his touch. Cuddling close beside him with a sigh of contentment, resting her head upon his chest as his arm curled about her shoulders, she was not willing to keep their bodies apart for long. She drifted off into a blissful sleep to the low, soft, pounding of his heart, still excited from their union.