Faramir lay back against the sheets, intently watching his lover's eyes.
"The Rangers of Ithilien are yet fair in features, with hair fine as an elf's.
Has this trait descended from your father, or have you taken unusually good
care of yourself these long years? And your eyes, they shine like moonstones in
a river. I am of the mind that you travel with elves when you are not by my
side. They have gifted you generously, my lover. Or were you born of elves? I
wish to learn more of your lineage, for you have not yet told me who your
father was. Was it he who gave you these broad shoulders, this beautiful hair?"
The eyes of Damrod turned shifty and his mouth twitched. "Cease thy mindless
chatter, Faramir, son of Denethor... I tire of thy questioning."
"I am but glorying in your beauty, fine Ranger. I wish but to know from who you
descended, and who brought you up so fair?"
"Silence your tongue that I might have this kiss..."
"What then, do I put you off? Your rod was hot and ready but a moment ago. Does
it so soon go limp?
"Shhh... Close your mouth that I might lie with you in peace."
"If you do not find me worthy, what then must I do to win your—mmphhhh!"
