Well, folks, the chapter I know you've all been waiting for-What happens after the doors shut. winks Thanks to Angoliel, who helped and insisted that this chapter get on cyber paper sooner rather than later. This is being posted as her birthday present along with chapter 22...after you're done with this update, go and see how the fight ends!

OH, and this is defiantly 'R' rated material...so if you're not into graphic descriptions, skip this.

After the doors clanged shut with a somewhat ominous bang, Boromir turned to look at his bride, rushing to hold her in his arms. She smiled, but held him back a little way.

"Patience, my love." She said, her voice low and coy.

Boromir blinked. "Patience...patience?! I've waited near two years for this night, and you bid me be patient? I have waited far to long for this, my rose." Boro breathed into her hair, threading his fingers through it. She laughed softly, only tempting him more.

"A little longer won't kill you, dear Boromir," she chuckled, walking away from him. What did she have in mind? He followed his wife as she sat on their bed, her white gown spilling elegantly over their sheets.

She lay back, her beautiful form stretching over the bed. She watched his reaction to her seductive pose. His back stiffened, his breath quickened, Rhoswen taking note of this and resting her hand lightly on her hip, rubbing it slowly.

Erotically caressing the rounded curve, she watched her husband's growing desire for her. Very carefully, she unlaced his coat, laying it aside and beginning to take the shirt under it off, tracing the whitened scar on his shoulder once the shirt had slid off the bed to the floor. Her long finger tickled his skin, and Boromir felt his temperature rising, her touch enticing him even more; She kissed the scar, touching her tongue to his skin.

"I have other wounds that need caring for," he whispered throatily in her ear.

"All in time, dearest. It will come in time," she whispered, toying with him. Boromir growled under his breath, impatient. Her hands roamed over his bare back, her fingernails lightly dancing on his flesh. "Almost like feathers," Boromir thought. He moaned when he felt her lips caressing his nipple, teasing it.

"My husband is so strong..."she whispered seductively, letting her feather light fingers travel his stomach, muscles tightened by years of military training. They drew taut now under her touch. He wished she would let her hands travel lower...

"I will show you how strong I am," he growled, "when you take off these cursed pants!"

She merely chuckled. "That too, will come in time," she snickered. Oh, how long this was taking! Boromir wanted to tear that gown from her body and set his lips to every part of her flesh.

Her hand teased him on, running over his hot skin with a cool touch. "You are quite warm," she remarked with the air of someone commenting on the weather.

"Only with my passion for you, beloved," he murmured.

Rhoswen kissed him with mind-numbing ferocity. Boromir liked her this way, wild and nothing but woman. Her teeth nipped at his lips, her tongue caressing the roof of his mouth.

"So the rose has some thorns," he said when she had continued her kissing of his face. Her body merely pressed closer to his, sending feral thrills through his being. He embraced her tightly, his hands resting at her hips.

She inched away from him, picking a white rose up from the vase next to the bed, twirling it between her fingers and smiling with a secretive look. Valar, how enticing she looked, Boromir thought to himself, studying her sweet lips. His muscled torso beckoned her to touch him again, his face masked with pure delight, his swollen lips parted. His eyes were darkening as he simply stared at her. What would she do next? She began to let the rose run over his naked shoulders, caressing his neck with satin petals like some ancient priestess' wand. She heard the hiss of breath between his teeth, his muscles trembling as he fought the urge to hungrily take her then and there.

She continued with the rose, watching him with sharp eyes, waiting for his patience to snap. Her taunting game reached his abdomen, and it was at that moment that he finally threw her back on the bed, climbing over her.

"You lasted longer than I thought," she laughed. "But you have yet to remove my dress, milord..." she said with a wanton smile. Boromir smiled wickedly and slid back to sit on his heels. Slowly he lifted the gown above her ankles, tickling her legs. Finally it revealed her thighs; Rhoswen's eyes went wide when she realized he would torment her now...

Her head lashed back when she felt his tongue in her: She moaned softly...never had he done this in Osgiliath. But that had been different- Tonight, he could take his time. His tongue probed her more, moving in and out quite slowly. Tonight, she would know sweet pain.

Suddenly, his tongue thrust into her sharply, and Rhoswen moaned his name loudly. He could feel her legs tense, her entire body try to suppress a convulsion of pleasure. He grinned inwardly and licked at her sharply again, his tongue a blunt dagger within her; Her hands clenched around the sheets at his action. His ministrations became quicker...more delightful, flickering out of her, around her legs, her navel.

As he made his way up her body, he brought her dress with him, finally pulling it over her head, trapping her arms with it.

"Now I shall have my way," he growled, dangerously enticing.

"You mean to take me when I cannot fight back?" she teased breathlessly.

Boromir chuckled. "You wouldn't fight me anyway, dearest rose. Not when I do this..." His hands caressed her bosom, kneading her supple breasts, kissing them as she had done to him minutes ago.

She moaned with satisfaction, feeling his length pressed against her leg. It was getting to be quite stiff and insistent as he favored her. It would only be a matter of time before the warrior changed weapons.

Boromir nibbled at her neck, suckling at the flesh at her throat. With a roguish smile, he pulled away, rubbing his lower body against her. Her blood was pounding in her veins now...the woman beneath Rhos' seductions was begging to be let loose.

"Do you want me now," he purred, "or later?"

"When ever thou cares to, my lord." She said breathlessly.

He continued to grind against her, his pants becoming rather annoying. "I seem to be...unable to fulfill your request, wife," he drawled deliciously. "I am still clothed."

Rhoswen smirked. "That can be fixed...If you would but let me out of my dress...I am still trapped."

With a last lick of her ear, Boromir removed the dress from her person entirely and cast it to the floor. She pressed a hand to his navel, traveling south a little and letting her hand rest there. Boromir raised his eyebrows and squirmed, growling. How beastly he was, she observed carefully, so hungry, so demanding of her attention, so desperately needy for her...

"Continue, if you please," he almost begged, his voice husky; she smiled at his near whine.

"Now, should I make the dear captain suffer a little while longer or let him have me now?" she mused out loud, her voice toying with him, her hand a little tighter to his trousers.

"You know what I want, woman..." He grit his teeth, a moan rumbling in his chest.

She carefully began to unlace his pants, letting her fingers take the strings out slowly, savoring his moans for her to move more rapidly.

"Did you never learn haste, Rhoswen? Be quick!" he whined.

"Oh, but Boro, every minute I waste you want me more..." She said, laughter lacing her voice. Boromir growled again.

She suddenly squeezed him again, quite tightly, and he threw his head back, snarling like a beast. Rhoswen arched an eyebrow.

"I think you've had enough..." she said, carefully choosing her words.

"I'll...never have enough of you," he panted. She slipped his pants over his hips, letting his manhood free.

"Insatiable lust, this one has." The Rose remarked. As soon as his pants were off, Boromir was upon her again, clutching her buttocks, kissing her lips. His hands roamed from her buttocks to her back, holding her close, never wanting to let her go. This time, he bucked against her, making her aware of what sensations she gave to him.

"Will you let me have you now?" he breathed into her ear. She gasped a yes.

With a swift motion from his hips, he penetrated her savagely, causing her to moan his name long and loud. Her hips buckled with his, letting her melt into him. Boromir delighted how well she fit around him. They were made for each other. As he thrust into her, Boromir kissed her, his tongue matching the motions of his length. Each thrust made her moan louder. She grappled again with the bed sheets, his name saccharine on her lips; even her moans tasted sweet to him. He pumped faster now, to push them both over the edge.

Her breathing was rapid now, her skin shining with a shimmer of sweat. Boromir's hair hung about his face, the strands clinging to each other with sweat. Pulling away from her lips, he moaned her name sensually, rolling the syllables over his tongue. Looking at her eyes, half expecting to see tears of pain, he could see that they were shining wildly, the courtly lady, with her careful manipulations of his mind, lost.

Boromir cried out as his seed shot into her, and leaned into his hands, which were on either side of her head. She cried aloud too, half from the pain and half from the pleasure. The lovers remained entangled within each other's arms, regaining their breath

Boromir caressed her face gently. "I love you, my Rose."

She looked up at him, still radiantly beautiful with loose strands of her dark sweat-soaked hair plastered to her back, her cheeks, her forehead.

"I love you, Boro."

He pulled himself out of her, leaving her sprawled on the bed as he took a few more breaths. Turning back to his wife, she pushed a wet rope out of his face and behind his ear. He nuzzled her hand against his cheek, and she laughed wearily. Boromir eased himself beside her, pulling the coverlet over them both.

"Get some sleep, Rhos." She nestled closer to him, and he laid an arm over her hips, both of them drifting away in soft sleep's embrace.

--

Boromir awoke with a start as the sun peeped over the windowsill, half blinding him. A cock crowed, and he realized something.

"Rhos! Rhoswen!" he sat up, shaking her, and she mumbled something and turned over, still sleeping. He kissed her ear, softly, and she awoke.

"Boro, what is it?" she mumbled groggily.

"My brother and uncle will be here soon, I fear."

Rhoswen's eyes widened. "Whatever for?"

At the glance from Boromir at the crimson stain on the sheets, Rhoswen's lips formed an O and she nodded.

"I need a bath." She said, carefully inspecting her legs, somewhat macabre painted with her blood and whitish fluid. She rose, silhouetting herself against the sun, conjuring an image in Boromir's head of the huntress goddess caught by the warrior in the woods while at her bath, so beautiful, and wild. She gathered up a sheet, wrapping it around herself and walking to the bath, her hips swaying beneath the make-do covering.

No sooner had she shut the door than there was a loud knocking on the grand doors to their chambers, and his uncle's muffled voice echoing through the wooden barrier.

"Nephew?! Are you and your radiant bride decent?"

Boromir grabbed his pants and slipped into them, shouting back through the door as he laced them up. "Yes, Uncle! Come in!"

The lock turned, and Imrahil entered, followed by Denethor, tottering along on his cane with the help of Faramir.

"The men of the house have come to see if your marriage has been consummated, Lord Boromir." The prince of Dol Amroth said, his voice formal. Boromir gestured a hand at the bed, and Faramir darted over, lifting up the coverlet. Boromir saw his brother suppress a smile. Faramir regained his sense of propriety, and nodded, his face blank.

"There is maiden blood on the sheets, uncle. The marriage has been consumed."

Denethor and Imrahil nodded sagely, and Faramir looked at his brother, his lips curling into a smile.

"So, my good lord brother, did you bed her well?"

"That I did, Faramir. Attend, she comes." Boromir cocked his head at the now opening door. Heads turned to look at Rhoswen, now suitably attired in a modest blue dress. She blushed a little as the men stared at her, looking down at her hands, smoothing folds in her dress that weren't there, hiding her face. Boromir barked at his uncle and brother.

"I would ask you remove your eyes from my lady wife, kinsmen." Faramir turned his head, stifling a laugh. Boromir must be telling the truth, for her to blush so. Denethor bowed stiffly to Rhoswen, who inclined her head.

With an unbending air in his voice, he said "Good morrow to the new wife."

"Good morrow to you, honored father."

"I trust my son bedded you well?" he asked, his smile stodgy and endearing at the same instant. Rhoswen blushed.

"I cannot tell a lie..." she said, the blood rising in her cheeks again. Imrahil stifled a laugh, and Denethor nodded approvingly.

"You have another week, Captain...then I expect you to return to your duties as Steward and councilor to the king. If you will excuse us, we are going to fetch Lord Elrond and attend to the matter of his daughter's recent nuptials." The three men bowed and exited. Boromir turned to his wife; she was smiling at him.

"Why did you say that?"

"Twas better than you adding later that you had been six miles into the Langstrand, husband. It was bound to come up sooner or later. I might as well tell them the truth. I am a married woman now-let others bother with propriety." She said, pulling him closer. Boromir smiled at his wife.

"Why did you get dressed, when you know I will undress you just as soon?"

"All the more fun for you, Boro." She smiled coyly. "But let us eat. The maids have delivered breakfast, and I know you are hungry from your exertions yester eve."

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