AN: This is where we get to the sex part of the M rating. Nothing graphic after the shirts come off, and I'm so out of practice writing smut that I'm sure it sucks, but it's there. Enjoy responsibly.
Chapter 17: The Ride
After just a few hours rest I found myself being shaken awake, grumbling as the fog cleared from my mind. Oh yeah, Boromir fucking kidnapped me. I made sure to give him the evil eye as he handed me some of the saddlebag rations; if it weren't for him, I'd be waking up in my cozy bed instead of on the hard cold ground.
Morning rituals were done in silence and we quickly got into the saddle again. Now that there was a goal, I had every intent to make it there.
That day we mostly rode in silence, not as hard as that night but still as speedy as possible without driving Blitzen into the ground. Breaks were spent in awkward silence.
I'll admit, part of the awkwardness was my lady-boner. Boromir's good looking, okay? Then we get into the saddle and I get to feel glorious muscle under that chainmail, and we're pressed together, and he doesn't even smell too bad. I couldn't think of a single person I knew who was attracted to men and wouldn't be turned on in this situation.
"How's Dad?" I couldn't help needling in the evening, if for no other reason than to distract myself.
Boromir sighed and my stomach dropped when I realized that I knew that motion. "He is angry about your sister's wedding," he answered, "And perhaps offended that the ladies of Gondor were passed over for a stranger from a strange land."
Ouch. That must have been something else to live with, considering Denethor.
"Love can be so damn inconvenient," I muttered into his shoulder.
He scoffed in agreement.
"You said you have a brother?" I prompted.
The adoration in Boromir was unmistakable as he talked for what felt like hours about Faramir and the scrapes they had gotten into together. Had they gotten into trouble with every person in their city as youngsters? I just had to cackle at the image of a very young Boromir covered in cake batter; he must have been adorable. I noted that his father made very few appearances but knew better than to ask.
"Faramir should have come instead of me, he is far better with his speech than I am. Yet I am glad to be able to see my friends again," Boromir chattered happily, "This, I did not expect."
"I don't think anyone did. Definitely not me," I admitted, "Least of all being out here, doing this, with you!" I laughed at the absurdity of the whole situation, shaking my head despite that I was leaning on Boromir's back.
We had a good chuckle out of that before Boromir returned my question, asking, "What of you and your sisters and brother? Your aunt and cousins? Tell me about them." Clearly, he had no idea what can of worms he was opening.
There weren't many stories from when we were younger that I wanted to repeat, but I did have a few from adulthood and here that he might understand. "Andy's gonna kill me, but not long before we left America, we went to this protest…" For him to get it I had to explain the year 2020, which was more than enough of an exercise in inventive language, and proceeded to tell him about that one time Andy and I were rescued from riot cops by a drag queen.
Then I had to explain drag queens.
Needless to say, by the end of it, Boromir was bewildered. "Your homeland is strange," he told me.
"We as a nation are ridiculously weird. Speaking of being weird, I've still got five more sisters to tell you about and the word personifies Brise in my opinion," I continued happily.
He made a noise of recognition. "She is waiting in Edoras for the formal wedding. Once her employer knew that the new princess is her sister, he allowed her a month off so long as she brought back a new recipe," Boromir added helpfully.
I squealed and unthinkingly squeezed him hard around the middle. "How is she? I take it you travelled together?" I questioned eagerly.
He wheezed out, "You're squeezing too tight."
Awkwardly I laughed and released him to rest my hands on my thighs. "Sorry, can you breathe better now?" If not, we had more serious issues than Brise and the weddings.
"My breathing was fine, the pressure made me feel sick. But yes, I'm better."
Oh, well maybe I should've kept it up.
Boromir rubbed his ribs but gave me a grin that made my belly flip-flop. "Go on, tell me more," he urged.
"Before we started travelling, Brise and I didn't spend much time together and we were never very close. She finds me bizarre and socially clueless, I thought she was too focused on looks and reputation." I smiled and shook my head ruefully. "Think," I corrected myself.
"Can you explain to me why having fat is a bad thing in your culture?" Boromir unexpectedly questioned.
Oh no, did that really follow us here? At least nobody here would look at my extra inches badly. "I guess you've noticed that people have a liking for the unusual- everyone loves redheads, for example," I started, grinning as I remembered the many admirers I had to chase away from each of my sisters.
"Yes, red hair is highly prized in Gondor as well," Boromir agreed.
"Well in our world it's cheaper to make food out of the byproducts of other things, on machines, than growing it, so all the poor people are stuck eating unhealthy food that makes them fat and gives them diabetes and high blood pressure and such. Nasty stuff." A memory of diabetic feet made me grimace and I quickly changed direction. "So being thin is the rare thing. Plus there's this crazy idea that people should have as little fat as possible and while yeah, it's easy in America to be too big, having an amount of fat is necessary. And then there's the famous people who are almost always super thin, and adverts telling people to lose weight, and it's ridiculous."
There were several moments of quiet while Boromir thought. "I can not quite imagine such a thing," he admitted, "All my life people talked of the harvests and whether there would be enough, and while several wealthy people are very round, it boggles me to think of it in reverse. And if that much food is a byproduct, how much real product must there be?"
Even I couldn't quite get my head around how much stuff is made around the world in the future and that there's a use for literally everything. "Even I don't know that," I told him.
We stopped early that night, more to allow Blitzen to rest than anything. The poor dear was carrying two rather weighty individuals at near top speed, and I decided that she deserved at least two apples when we got home.
There was no wood out this way for a fire, but we were only staying a few hours as it was. Again the area was checked for orcs or snake pits, and we all utterly collapsed.
The following day was tense and as if trying to flee the feeling, Blitzen sprinted for her life. It was the third day since the twins and Dezzie had been taken; if we didn't make it to the Fords of Isen by tonight, we'd miss the men entirely. We'd have to make it the whole way to Edoras by ourselves.
There wasn't much conversation even when we stopped to water the horse.
Unfortunately, I finally found out that orcs weren't limited to the east of the mountains. The shriek that seemed to be their trademark echoed across the grassland and considering her sudden burst of speed, Blitzen remembered what fear felt like. An arrow barely missed my head and instinctively I ducked down as far as I could.
With Blitzen's surge in speed we quickly lost them, but she could only maintain that for so long. The moment those unnatural cries faded away she began to slow, but didn't stop until we were a dozen walking hours ahead of the orcs.
By that time the sunset blazed orange-purple over the dark mountains.
"Damn," Boromir muttered under his breath, barely audible under the panting of the horse, "We are late." He continued to stroke Blitzen's shaking side while she drank from the stream we managed to find.
"It was a long shot anyways," I said sympathetically. With the hand not brushing Blitzen's lathered side, I meant to squeeze Boromir's arm.
Instead I had to snap my arm back from the sudden shock. "Eheh, static electricity," I chuckled awkwardly and went back to my task.
Except that it wasn't just static electricity that sparked. In the near-darkness I could barely see Boromir, but there was a look in his eyes that I barely recognized. The look on his face was confused, but there was only heat in his gaze.
For a split second, I thought. We were safely ahead of the orcs (if they hadn't lost interest) and far from civilization, and Blitzen wasn't going anywhere for a few hours. My IUD was still in. It's not like we'll ever see each other again after these weddings. So why not?
"Stop me if you're uncomfortable, but…" I let myself trail off as I reached out for him again, smiling in case he could somehow see.
He pulled me to him, slid a warm hand up the back of my neck, and suddenly there were lips on mine. Shock whistled through me for a split second, followed by elation. Finally.
Clearly Boromir knew what he was doing and I was out of practice, so I followed his lead happily. My hands ran through his hair appreciatively and both of us barely noticed the snag of my ring, only when I would grip hard near his scalp.
Head spinning, I didn't think anything of tipping over until I hit the ground. Even then it was only to grunt in discomfort at the hard landing and then go back to kissing like it was the main event. Maybe it's my long dry period talking but Boromir was fantastic at it.
It was too easy to ignore that this shouldn't be happening.
I went for the belt over his jerkin and by some miracle was able to toss it aside before those lips went elsewhere. Occasionally he'd stop and nibble on my earlobe or find the perfect place on my neck to suck on, finding where made me moan or gasp. The air was cool but I felt feverish- these clothes needed to get off.
My shirt was no problem, over my head and everything was on display. Boromir crawled downward but I kept a hold on his leather jerkin and forced him to discard it. Eagerly my hands went back to his shoulders, only to find yet more fabric.
"Why are you wearing so many goddamn clothes?" I complained.
"Good question," Boromir grumbled and chucked his tunic, "Grab my mail at the back of the neck."
Together we wrestled his armor off, in itself a workout, and finally it was just the padded shirt before I got where I wanted. By now there was no seeing much of anything in the dark and I was more than happy to feel my way around. Strong arms, firm chest, and some cushion for the pushin'- exactly how I like them.
Things became a wonderful blur of pleasure and a little pain that only made everything better- not counting that first thrust when I had to hiss out a breath of discomfort. It had been far too long and my body was a tensely coiled spring after three days of trying not to think about this.
When I came apart, I swore stars burst in the night sky.
When the burning need settled I expected Boromir to collapse right where he was and honestly, I was a bit disappointed when he tumbled to my side. Instantly the cool air nipped at my exposed flesh. With shaking, fumbling hands I pulled a discarded cloak over me.
It was almost tugged off me from the other side, so I rolled over to share the warmth.
The moonlight was just bright enough to see the hazy concern on Boromir's face. "Was that your first?" he murmured.
"That bad, huh?" I couldn't help my mortified chuckle.
"No, not at all," Boromir assured immediately.
I squinted at him, trying to figure out what he was really saying.
"It seemed that you were in pain when we first…" he trailed off awkwardly, "I meant to stop and ask." Except that I demanded he get a move on and fuck me.
"It's been a few years since I've been with a man," I admitted, "My face is kind of a turn-off, these days." A few ladies like the scarred and dangerous type, but in the daytime I tend to be far too peppy for their tastes. The less said about my interactions with men since those grenades, the better.
Instead of agreeing like I half expected, Boromir frowned. "What happened?" His finger trailed one particularly long scar from jaw to cheekbone.
My ears started ringing and I winced at the sudden pitch.
"Sorry," Boromir said, withdrawing his hand.
Smiling wistfully, I shook my head. "It didn't hurt. You can touch them," I told him.
Hesitantly he trailed his fingers along the raised scar tissue and I held still for him to explore. Better with his fingertips than his eyes, I figured. At least the scars were soft to touch.
"Can you feel from them?" He sounded torn- curious but cautious.
For a long second I simply enjoyed when the edge of his fingers would find unmarred skin. "Not much. Sometimes they're a bit tight, but not bad since they healed," I eventually answered. "I didn't find any on you." It had all been whole, healthy skin.
"Back of my left thigh," he offered, "I was nearly hamstrung on my first campaign."
I couldn't help it, I had to investigate. On the way I grabbed his bum and giggled naughtily when he jumped. "Ticklish?" I asked cheekily.
"Tease," he accused, heat flickering back to life.
The line across the back of his thigh was thick and had the same smooth quality as much of my torso; the height of it against my fingertips told me that it had been a deep cut. "You're lucky," I told him.
"Extremely," Boromir confirmed and leaned in to kiss me again.
Morning came with joyous barks and being tackled by a mass of dog hair, struggling to figure out where I was. Shouldn't I be home? Everything filtered back soon enough and, tilting my face away from Gander's tongue, I giggled gleefully while I scratched him. "Gander! What're you doing here?" I didn't quite scold.
"This is that puppy?" Boromir asked in disbelief. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him return his sword to its sheath.
I giggled a little more, and wrestled Gander off of me, but never stopped the scratches. "You're such a good boy, aren't you Gander? Aren't you?" How long had he been running to catch up to us? Who let him out to do it?
After a few minutes I managed to clamber to my feet, laughing of sheer happiness. Gander seemed perfectly happy to amble along beside me to the brook where he utterly collapsed. For a long moment he looked like he was trying to drown himself.
"Yeah, this is the puppy. He's really grown, hasn't he?" I asked cheerfully, baring my slightly over-long canines at Boromir in a predatory grin.
Boromir looked a little overwhelmed. Noticing my scrutiny, he schooled his features into a tight smile and made to do his own washing.
We dressed in silence until Boromir needed help with his chainmail.
Since I was the reason his armor came off, it was only right to get him back into it. Whoever said this was light-weight must be kidding; this must have been at least thirty pounds. There was a good amount of hissing discomfort when Boromir's hair got caught in the links.
Within the half hour we were back in the saddle, now riding east. According to Boromir it was only fifty more miles to the Fords of Isen and the plan had been to stay the third night there. If we hurried, we should be able to catch up by nightfall.
These days I'm less prone to saddle soreness, but there was quite the resurgence that morning. I had already been bow-legged but when we paused for a mid-morning break, I swore my legs would both fall off. "Ow, ow, fuck," I muttered to myself as I shambled in a rough circle around Blitzen.
Worriedly, Gander followed me.
Boromir looked like he couldn't tell whether to be concerned or smug, or to laugh. "Are you alright?" he asked when I passed him the second time.
"Nothing permanent," I answered, "But gods, I'm sore."
During my third circle around, I paused; Boromir was thinking deeply. His expression may have even been called troubled. "Penny for your thoughts?" I asked.
"We need to talk about last night," Boromir said uncomfortably.
I bobbed my head from side to side, a habit picked up from Pitaajee. Hopefully he couldn't see the instinctive terror that crept up.
"Perhaps things are different in your own country, but here, that simply isn't done outside of an established relationship or a brothel," Boromir explained, scratching at his beard, "I worry for what will be said in Edoras, and what strange version of it will reach my father."
Oh dear. That's right, he has a good reputation he needs to keep. And a family whose disappointment actually matters, even if his dad was a dick.
"How bad are they?" I asked, tilting my head up for a better inspection of my neck.
Boromir drew in a sharp breath. "Very vivid," he reported.
I eyed his own neck, or what I could see of it between his beard and collar. "You too." A flutter of pride went through me upon seeing the many little purple-red marks of my handiwork. "There's no possible way to lie convincingly about this," I announced.
For some reason, Boromir looked downright offended.
"What? These definitely weren't here three days ago," I reasoned, waving a hand vaguely toward my neck.
"I was going to ask what you wanted to tell everyone," Boromir said sensibly, "We need some kind of explanation."
Automatically my mind went to the enemies-to-lovers trope, but that would actually be harder to explain here. "Let's keep it simple and call me a mistress. Neither of us needs to move house, you can get married eventually without scandal, and it gives some illusion of respectability and permanence." I suggested.
That furrow between his brows only deepened. "That would put your reputation through the mud," Boromir protested.
"As opposed to the truth?" I pointed out.
The mere suggestion made his eyes go hard.
"They'd think I'm a whore," I said bluntly, "Not what we're going for, it would make my entire family look bad and make Andy's position precarious. At least if we say mistress, it's clear I'm only a slut for one person. They'll call you crazy, but I think you can live with that part." His people adored him, they'd forgive him anything. Boromir would be just fine.
"How can you be a mistress if you're out of reach?" Barely his fingertips skimmed my shoulder, then chin.
My mind went to the most unexpected possible place and I couldn't help smiling. "When my first father was alive, he had a lady in every port. And he went to quite a few ports," I said with a wink, "I'd say the frequency of visits doesn't matter, the quality does."
In disbelief, Boromir shook his head.
Sympathetically I stepped in to pat his arm. "Sorry in advance about your dad, if we can't keep a lid on this," I told him.
"He always knows things and I'm not sure how," Boromir suddenly confessed, as if I'd unearthed a long-held mystery, "Somehow he always puts Faramir into place and then less than a week later there's an orc attack or something, and he knows before I do when Osgiliath will be assaulted. It's maddening!"
Huh. That didn't sound natural. "Sounds like he's got it out for your little brother," I said, disturbed.
"That as well," Boromir agreed, continuing, "However, my point is that there is no hiding from him what happened." Aggravatedly he put a hand through his hair.
Maybe it was all the ridiculous stories I used to read, but the stupidest possible idea popped up and I just had to share it. "Okay, so when the wedding bits are over, go home, get berated for sleeping with me, and then send a note to me in Edoras calling our arrangement off," I proposed.
For a very long moment, Boromir thought about it. With a look that said I was crazy, he nodded.
I just had to let out a devious little giggle.
"Does that mean that until I return to Gondor-" He looked reluctant to put it into words, but quietly delighted.
"If you want," I offered impishly, "But only when no one is looking."
Our laughter startled Blitzen and distracted us, but as we finished our preparations to continue riding, a silly smile lingered on my face. Perhaps things were looking up for a little while.