An Unexpected Guest at Imladris

by Nefertiti

Rating: NC17

Pairing: Gandalf/Boromir

Summary: Gandalf receives an unexpected but very welcome late-night visit shortly after the Council of Elrond.

Disclaimer: The characters belong to their various rights-holders; I offer this story free of charge to fellow fans.

Author's note: Not much more than a PWP, but I enjoyed the challenge of pairing these two and keeping the thing thoroughly book-canon.

Many thanks to Sarah for her beta work and suggestions!

The splendid banquet celebrating the recovery of the Ring-bearer from his near-fatal wound was drawing to a close. Elrond leaned toward Gandalf to say quietly into his ear, "Do you feel that Frodo is strong enough to come and spend at least part of the evening with us in the Hall of Fire?"

Gandalf glanced over to where the Hobbit was smiling and talking with his dinner companion, Glóin. He looked wide awake, and there was a healthy color in his face. "I should think so. He has had plenty of sleep, to say the least! And as I probably have said far too often already, Hobbits really are remarkably tough little fellows."

"Yes, I recall hearing that a time or two! Then he is also presumably strong enough to stand the surprise of meeting Bilbo again. Would you like to bring Frodo to the Hall? I believe that Bilbo is there already."

"Certainly. I had a chance to talk with Frodo at some length this morning, and I think he needs no further preparation for the Council tomorrow. He should relax and spend this evening in talk of a less serious sort-Hobbit gossip and reminiscence."

"How are you feeling yourself, after five long nights at his bedside?"

"Somewhat tired, I must admit. I shall probably not last through all the songs and tales. Still, I shall come in for a little while, mainly to make sure that Frodo is as well as I think he is. If you see me retire early, it is not through boredom, I assure you."

"Of course, I shall understand. I know how you delight in the music and poetry, as well as in a restful atmosphere in which to indulge your silly habit."

"Smoking is not a silly habit! It is a pleasant and relaxing activity."

Elrond smiled. It was good to be able to tease his friend about this odd occupation again, given how worried the Elf had been for the Istar's safety during his long, inexplicable absence of the summer. They had only recently been reunited by Gandalf's arrival in Rivendell, and much of the subsequent time had been occupied in their anxieties over Frodo. Tomorrow would bring the momentous Council, but for tonight they could at least try to be lighthearted.

Patting the Wizard's shoulder gently as he rose, Elrond nodded graciously to the assembled guests, signifying that the meal was at an end. Gandalf threaded his way through the group in the passage, managing to intercept Frodo just outside the large, dark Hall with its carven pillars and great fire upon the hearth in the center. "This is the Hall of Fire," he explained to the Hobbit. "Here you will hear many songs and tales-if you can keep awake. But except on high days it usually stands empty and quiet, and people come here who wish for peace, and thought. There is always a fire here, all the year round, but there is little other light."

Gandalf watched with a little smile as Frodo looked around in quiet delight, seeing the many Elves with the firelight glowing in their hair. The Wizard spotted Bilbo sitting on a stool by a pillar, seeming to doze, and at once Elrond summoned Frodo and roused the old Hobbit so that the two could greet each other. Gandalf himself sat in a chair near the door, for he fully expected to retire early. He thought back over his conversation with Frodo that morning. The Hobbit still seemed innocently unaware that his burden as the Ring-bearer was not yet finished, and Gandalf heaved a sad sigh at the thought of the Quest that Frodo would soon undertake. The Council tomorrow would change the lives of its participants but the Hobbit's most of all-if he was brave and clear-sighted enough to accept that he was meant not only to carry the Ring for a while but also to try and destroy it.

The Wizard found that he was not lulled to sleep by the soft music. He pulled out his pipe and filled it with some of the weed he had purchased up in Bree as he came east. After he had indulged in a long smoke, he noticed that Frodo seemed to be nodding drowsily, though Gandalf was not sure whether it was weariness or the enchantment of the music that caused it. Elvish singing often had a nearly hallucinatory effect on people not used to it. Eventually Bilbo began to chant a long poem that he had written about Eärendil. It was entertaining enough, but it was merely a clever imitation of Elvish poetry. Elrond and the other Elves, however, listened politely, clearly amused by Bilbo's efforts but also enormously fond of the old Hobbit. Gandalf himself had less tolerance for this sort of thing, and he was rather glad that he had an excuse to slip out quietly in the middle of the epic.

Once back in his own room, Gandalf undressed and washed. As he dried himself, he stared for a moment at the great red jewel of the Ring on his hand, visible to none but a very few. The Ring of Fire. Ironic that he should have so much power over fire, and yet the only great flame capable of destroying the One should be so completely beyond his reach or control. Well, time enough to worry about all that tomorrow. Tonight he intended to get his first sound, continuous sleep in several nights. He settled into the comfortable bed with a sigh of contentment, pulling the covers up and falling into deep slumber almost immediately.

Having retired so early in the evening, Gandalf opened his eyes the next morning well before dawn. He had hoped to sleep longer, but clearly his mind had not wholly forgotten the momentous events that would take place that day-the Council where he and Elrond would have to explain so much to the group, advising them well and guiding them to join together to struggle against the Dark Lord. It would be quite a task, given the delegation of Dwarves from Erebor who had unexpectedly arrived. On top of that there were the Elves of Mirkwood. Odd that they had converged on Imladris at this crucial juncture. And yet perhaps not odd at all. They were clearly meant to be there, and Gandalf took comfort in the thought.

The Istar lay quietly for a short time, hoping to drop off again, but he soon realized that he was wide awake. As the first cold light of dawn began to glow faintly beyond his window, he rose and dressed, deciding that perhaps a walk in the crisp morning air might be a good preparation for the long meeting to come.

Almost as soon as he had gone out and closed the door of his room, however, he saw two figures approaching. As they drew near, Gandalf recognized one of the door-wards of the House. Following him was a Man, looking much worn with travel, and yet the richness of his stained garments proclaimed him to be of noble birth. Unless the Wizard was much mistaken, the emblems on the Man's clothing and the shape of his sword's pommel identified him as a high officer in the military of Gondor.

Gandalf frowned in puzzlement. No messenger from the Southern Kingdom had been expected, yet the timing again seemed more than chance. Gandalf stepped out of the shadows by his door and, mindful of the early hour, greeted them in a whisper. The two paused and turned toward him.

He was struck at once by the Man's face: handsome, strong, and bold, despite the weariness apparent in it. He found himself hard put to keep from staring, for the countenance was also an attractive one, quite different from the grace and delicate beauty of the Elves. The jaw was strong, the brow broad and solid, and the eyes intense. The newcomer had immediately smiled at him, as if he recognized the Wizard, and the effect was dazzling. Gandalf felt that he should know this person, and yet he could not recall having met him. He reluctantly tore his eyes away from the Man and looked inquiringly at his companion.

The Elf turned to him immediately and said in a low voice, "Mithrandir, this is Boromir, son and heir to Denethor, the Steward of Gondor."

Gandalf nodded and smiled, realizing why the Man had seemed familiar. He had encountered Boromir a few times during his visits to Minas Tirith to take council with the Steward or do research in the archives. He knew the second son, Faramir, better and had seen him far more recently. He recalled meals taken many years ago with the noble family. Boromir had been much younger then, barely into his teens, and his face was now that of a mature man, his body that of a powerful warrior.

Boromir exclaimed, "Mithrandir! It is fortunate that you should be here in Imladris. Perhaps your wisdom can help to solve the riddle that I have borne hither across many weary and lonely miles."

"A riddle?" Gandalf replied. Boromir hesitated, and the Wizard grasped that he was reluctant to speak in front of the Elf. Gandalf said to the latter, "If you will tell me which bedroom is to be Lord Boromir's, I shall conduct him there myself. I welcome the chance to speak with an old acquaintance whom I have not seen in many years."

The Elf nodded. "The last on the right along this passage. The door is not locked. The bed should be furnished with clean linen and the pitcher filled with water. A fire has been laid. I wish you good repose, Lord Boromir."

"For a few hours, at any rate. Thank you."

Gandalf watched the Elf walk away from them, feeling more than a little uncomfortable. From the moment that he had joined the other two, he had felt a strong attraction to Boromir. The Gondorian seemed somehow to exude sexual power and confidence. It was clearly nothing deliberate on his part, for Boromir looked too exhausted to be in the least interested in physical pleasure, and he certainly would not choose an elderly Wizard as a partner if he were, Gandalf reflected. The Istar had seldom experienced such an immediate and intense desire upon meeting someone-and although strictly speaking he had met Boromir years earlier, this was his first encounter with him as a fully grown Man. He was acutely aware of the heat radiating from Boromir in that chilly hallway, and he even found himself hardening slightly. Hoping that his companion did not notice his reaction, he turned and led the way to the door indicated by the Elf.

Once inside, he lit a lamp and the carefully arranged logs in the fireplace as Boromir put down his pack, unbuckled his belt and scabbard, and looked about. The Man crossed to join Gandalf by the hearth, holding out his hands to warm them. The Wizard watched him out of the corner of his eye, trying to banish sudden thoughts of what he would like those hands to be doing to him. His cock again stirred, and he moved away from the flames and the heady, musky scent of the Man. Calm down, you old fool, he chided himself. This is ridiculous! He took a deep breath and asked, "You spoke of a riddle. Would you care to tell me about it right away? If you are too tired, I can hear about it in the morning."

"Let me tell you now. It will not take long, and perhaps you could be thinking about it as I sleep." He stared into the fire for a few more seconds and then turned to face the Wizard. "Mithrandir, I have traveled all this way because of a dream that both Faramir and I have had, though he more often than I. It seemed no idle fancy but somehow prophetic and vitally important. In it the eastern sky seemed to darken, and thunder rolled over the lands between. Yet in the West there was still a pale light, and a clear, distant voice cried out:

Seek for the Sword that was broken:
In Imladris it dwells;
There shall be counsels taken
Stronger than Morgul-spells.
There shall be shown a token
That doom is near at hand,
For Isildur's Bane shall waken,
And the Halfling forth shall stand.

As soon as Boromir began to describe his dream, Gandalf's feelings of desire receded, and he listened with keen interest to the poem. Given his own knowledge of the situation, its meaning seemed reasonably clear. The question in his mind was why these prophetic words and visions should come to the sons of the Steward of Gondor. The reference to counsels in Imladris strongly hinted that Boromir was one of the many strangers meant to congregate in this spot. He frowned as he wondered how much he should tell Boromir now. He was tempted to invite the Man to attend the Council that day, and yet he did not wish to do such a thing without consulting Elrond. At last he said, "It is an interesting conundrum indeed. Between us, Lord Elrond and I probably can enlighten you. I should advise you to speak with him in the morning."

Boromir had been unbuttoning his jacket, and suddenly he pulled that and his shirt off. Gandalf's breath caught in his throat as his eyes slid over the rippling muscles and the perfect dark-brown nipples that hardened quickly in the cool air. The Man crossed from the fireplace to a basin and a jug of water that stood on a large chest of drawers. As he poured some out, he said, "I am relieved to hear that you think the dream is likely to be capable of explanation. It will help me to sleep more readily if I have not made such a long journey in vain."

The Wizard felt almost light-headed with a longing to take the Man in his arms and lead him to the bed, to lie with him and caress his body until Boromir moved above him and took him, pounding into him until he shouted out his ecstasy. Resolutely he crossed to the door. He opened it and paused, trying to focus on one of the elaborately carved cabinets rather than on the broad, naked back and the muscular buttocks under the tight trousers. "Yes, do get what repose you can. I shall see you in the morning, and perhaps then you will learn enough to make that journey worthwhile. I hope so, at any rate. Sleep well!"

Gandalf closed the door and stood for a short while outside it, frowning and staring abstractedly into space. He was baffled and angered at himself for his intensely physical reaction to Boromir. Even now his mind insisted on straying in unwelcome directions, imagining scenes of him in bed with the Man, exchanging pleasures in different ways. Boromir's appeal had nothing in common with the allure of the Elves, so graceful and skilled in leisurely lovemaking. It was raw and direct. The Istar turned and walked quickly through the halls to the front door of Imladris, hoping that the cold weather would help to rid his loins of the heat that still lingered in them.

The Council of Elrond took place, and Gandalf and the Lord of Imladris managed to persuade those gathered at Imladris that the destruction of the Ring was the only way to defeat their Enemy and be sure that another Dark Lord would not arise. There was much that needed to be done in the following days, and Gandalf found himself busy. Frodo required encouragement, Elrond sought advice on a preliminary list of possible members for the Fellowship, and the Istar took advantage of the strange gathering of visitors to meet more privately with those who had come from Erebor and Mirkwood.

To his annoyance, Gandalf found that his desire for Boromir did not decrease with time. On the contrary, the Man's muscular physique and restless energy suggested to him a pent-up sexuality that Gandalf longed to unloose. Certainly Boromir was very interested in the lovely Elves around him. The Wizard suspected that he had never seen an Elf before, and his long journey without companionship would no doubt lead him to try and find a willing bedmate. A few times Gandalf noticed him deep in private conversation with one or another of them. Half his mind wished that Boromir would succeed in finding a partner in the house. Then perhaps the Wizard could stop thinking about the fact that the other half of his mind wished that partner could be he. For days he busied himself with meetings concerning strategies and preparations for the Fellowship's eventual departure, and during those activities he could ignore his urges. At night, though, it was a different matter.

One evening a week after the Council, Gandalf retired to his room shortly before midnight. He had barely had time to take a few steps away from the door when there came a gentle knock. Members of the household almost never disturbed him in his private chambers, especially this late at night. Hoping that his visitor had not brought news of some emergency, the Wizard opened the door again. His heart leapt when he saw Boromir standing outside.

The Man glanced around before murmuring, "May I come in?"

"Certainly." The Istar opened the door further and moved aside.

Gandalf felt his breathing speed up as Boromir stepped inside at his welcoming gesture. He had fantasized all too often about having the Man here alone with him. Surely, though, his visitor had come for some other purpose. Gandalf shut the door, feeling as strongly as ever the lure of animal sensuality that seemed to emanate from his guest. The Wizard turned and faced Boromir with an inquiring look.

To his amazement, the Man was eyeing him in a hesitant, speculative fashion that could only imply one thing. Gandalf frowned with puzzlement. Why, among the many guest rooms in the house of Imladris, had Boromir chosen his door to knock on this night? After a brief moment's thought, he realized that the probable answer was all too obvious.

In a casual tone Gandalf said, "Do you know, I have long observed that the Elves of Imladris-and most Elves, for that matter-are not inclined to become, well, too friendly with those of other races. Have you perhaps found that to be the case?"

Boromir stared at him for a moment and then replied with a little smile, "I see I need not mince words with you. I have indeed found it impossible to get beyond a friendly conversation with the few I have ... approached."

Gandalf nodded with a wry smile of his own. It was rather galling that he should be the Man's choice of desperation, but after all, it did make sense. He suspected that Boromir had not tried his luck with the Dwarves or Hobbits in like manner, a thought which did not offer much consolation. He had to admit to himself that he was far from inclined to indignantly reject his guest and send him back to his own room. Quite the opposite. He found that he cared disturbingly little about why the Man wanted him.

Boromir noticed his expression and grinned a bit sheepishly. "I realize that it is not very flattering to you that I have come to you only after finding the Elves so distant. But in my own defense, I must say that my attitude toward you has changed considerably since I arrived here."

Yes, attitudes do change when a person has gone a very long time without lying with anyone. Apparently even an aged Man can start to look appealing to an attractive young one, the Wizard thought. Aloud he simply replied, "Really? In what way?"

"Well, frankly, when I was a lad and you visited Minas Tirith a few times, I simply thought of you as an old scholar. Oh, and as a master of tales and jokes told over the dinner table. Once I was grown, I did not encounter you again, for you came less often to Gondor, and on the occasions when you did I was away from the City, occupied with my military duties.

"Thus when my tedious journey brought me finally to Imladris, I saw you again after many years, and naturally I assumed you were here just as one of Elrond's many advisers. As you are all too well aware, my father is not overly fond of you, and it will probably not surprise you to hear that he has not always spoken of you in a complimentary way. I'm afraid I took his opinions at face value. The Council corrected that impression, however, for I learned that you are a leader to whom even the Lord of Imladris defers. And when you spoke the words of the Ring's hidden inscription, the power in your voice was extraordinary! Yet even by the time that meeting wound down, I didn't consider that you might be physically vigorous. Certainly the thought of visiting your room late at night didn't occur to me."

Boromir paused and chuckled. "Oddly enough, it was one evening at dinner that my opinion began to change."

Gandalf's immense eyebrows went up. "At dinner?"

"Yes. I was fairly near the head of the table, and I noticed how very much you ate that night. Yet you are not in the least fat, quite the contrary, and I observed thereafter how active and strong you seemed. I viewed you for the first time as being powerful in general. Powerful in ways that belie your age. It was shortly after that, I believe, that I first thought about whether you ever indulged in the sorts of pleasure that I myself had foregone for so many weeks."

It was Gandalf's turn to chuckle as Boromir continued, "Well, after that, the question kept tickling at my mind. Soon I began to notice how you looked at me occasionally. Oh, not often and not in a very obvious way-except to me, who was already attuned to such a possibility. But you always looked away hastily, without the little smile that typically accompanies a casual exchange of glances between acquaintances. Your eyes implied something very promising, or so I suspected. I soon became sanguine that you would not find the idea of such a visit as this unwelcome! And I found I wanted to make that visit."

After closing the door, Gandalf had simply stood by it, facing his guest. Their smiles faded as the conversation ended. For a short time they simply stared at each other, desire frankly reflected in both their faces. The Wizard took a small step forward and reached up to grasp Boromir's shoulder. He tugged at the Man, pulling him until the Wizard's back was against the door and Boromir's body was touching his.

The moment their bodies made contact, the Man's breath caught in his throat, and he embraced Gandalf. Yet he seemed hesitant, as if, despite what he had just said, he was afraid of treating an elderly partner too roughly. Gandalf felt heat blossom in his crotch, so quickly that he had no time for the niceties of seduction or reassurance. There was no need for words. It was clear enough what they both wanted. He just had to show that the Man did not have to hold back at all. He slid one hand around Boromir's waist and the other up to the nape of his neck. Gripping a fistful of hair, he pulled the Man's head down. Opening his mouth, the Wizard fastened it over Boromir's, teasing insistently at his lips with his tongue, provoking invasion. Freed from his uncertainty, the Man was seized by lust, and his arms tightened around the Wizard. He thrust his tongue deep into Gandalf's mouth. The Wizard moaned in abandon and sucked at the demanding tongue, gliding swiftly into a haze of arousal. Boromir's hips ground repeatedly against his. He no longer restrained his powerful body but pinned Gandalf against the paneling of the door hard enough to make the wood creak slightly.

As the ravenous kiss finally ended, Boromir pulled back to examine the Wizard's face, his own slack with arousal. For a moment they again stared into each other's eyes, almost warily, as they panted. Then Gandalf pulled on the Man's neck again, putting out his tongue. Boromir's mouth opened, and his tongue flicked and circled the Istar's. Both moaned softly with desire. Gandalf's cock was iron-hard already, bulging outward against the constricting cloth of his trousers. Boromir twisted his hips and put his hand between their bodies, cupping the Wizard's erection and feeling it twitch under his fingers.

The Man withdrew his mouth, panting and smiling down into Gandalf's face as he squeezed and stroked the hard flesh. "Aha, secretly carrying a weapon, are you? And quite a dangerous one at that," he added with an appreciative grin.

Gandalf's head lolled back against the wooden panel as he savored at last having the Man's hands so intimately upon him. He gasped, "I don't think of it as a weapon, but I'm glad you're impressed."

"Oh, well, soldiers tend to talk that way. The joking eases the way between two Men who barely know each other and try to catch a brief moment of pleasure together."

"I think we are beyond that stage by now," Gandalf murmured with a breathy chuckle. They resumed the lascivious dance of tongue against tongue, and the Istar's hand explored the muscular chest. Finding a nipple, he scratched gently at it, feeling it harden instantly as the Man gasped. His tongue descended to Boromir's throat, and he unbuttoned his shirt, his mouth following downward as it opened. Nuzzling the cloth aside, he began to suckle eagerly at the dark, erect nub. His partner growled with delight, and his fingers slid between the Istar's thighs to tickle his balls. Finally Boromir cupped the Wizard's buttocks and pulled them up so that their swollen members pressed against each other. He was distinctly taller than Gandalf, and so strong that the Wizard's feet left the ground. At once Gandalf wrapped his legs around Boromir, thrusting in a short, quick rhythm that rubbed their erections together. With a grunt the Man turned and carried him to the bed, depositing him on it and standing before him, dropping his loosened shirt to the floor. He began to unlace his trousers, sucking in deep, slow breaths and watching Gandalf.

The Istar sat on the edge of the mattress, his eyes fixed on the trouser-front as he hastily removed his boots and unbuttoned his shirt. When Boromir pulled out his stiff cock, Gandalf gasped. It was perfectly straight, long and thick, with a bright pink color. The Wizard leaned forward and down to tongue it avidly, rolling the testicles with one hand and helping Boromir lower the trousers with his other. Kicking free of the crumpled garment, the naked Man climbed up beside the Istar, kneeling and then leaning back against the footboard of the bed, his elbows propped on it and his large erection jutting upward. Gandalf turned and lay on his side, propping himself on one elbow. His lips took in the tip and sucked it as he stroked the shaft tantalizingly with the ends of his fingers. Panting harder, Boromir watched him, and soon he began to utter tiny keening noises. The Istar slowly traced the veins and licked his way along the ridge on the underside, breathing in the musky smell of the Man. Finally he kissed and licked each of the balls in turn.

After a few minutes of this sweet torment, Gandalf rose and moved toward the top of the bed, shedding his clothes as he went. Naked, he propped the pillows against the headboard and settled into them, leaning to open the drawer of his nightstand and pull out a small bottle. He stared at Boromir, whose intense eyes went from the bottle to his. The Man crawled forward, and the Wizard sat up to meet him. He pushed on Boromir's chest, and the Gondorian knelt before him. Gandalf removed the stopper from the container and poured some clear, thin oil into his cupped palm. He turned his hand over to cover the end of Boromir's erection. Slowly the oil dribbled down the shaft, and the Istar spread it, squeezing and stroking as Boromir gritted his teeth and reached under the huge beard to find Gandalf's nipple. Gandalf grimaced with pleasure and went on lubricating the erection longer than he really needed to in order to savor the Man's caresses.

Finally Boromir's stomach muscles clenched with his mounting excitement, and Gandalf withdrew his hand, sitting back and spreading his legs as he handed the bottle to the Man. The Wizard slipped a pillow beneath his own bottom as Boromir quickly knelt between his bent knees and poured some oil onto the fingers of one hand, using his thumb to spread it evenly over them. Setting the container on the nightstand, he leaned forward and stuck his tongue deep into the Wizard's welcoming mouth. As he did so, he rubbed the small, puckered hole to oil it and then quickly inserted his long middle finger into the tight entrance to Gandalf's body. The Istar jerked as it stretched him suddenly, then again as it grazed his pleasure point. He sucked on the Man's tongue to encourage him. Brushing his beard aside, he reached up to pluck Boromir's stiff nipples. The Man thrust his finger in and out a few times, curling it to rub the spot that made Gandalf quiver with ecstasy.

The Istar savored the welcome, familiar sensation of fullness, and he sought to relax his opening as Boromir pushed his finger from side to side. Soon a second finger entered, and Gandalf flinched and whimpered as the tips reached his prostate. With his other hand, Boromir pinched and rolled one of Gandalf's nipples. The Wizard's body arched upward and he groaned. Boromir gradually forced a third finger inside. Gandalf grimaced as the stretching brought pain for a moment. Boromir froze, and Gandalf again strove to relax as much as possible. Soon he nodded, and the Gondorian resumed circling and pressing inward until he judged that the Wizard was sufficiently open to his entry.

The Man rested the bottom of his cock's crown against the oiled, slightly gaping hole and pushed the top with his fingers. At once it popped through, and Gandalf sighed and struggled to prevent his body from fighting the invasion of the large tip. After another brief pause he was ready and put his legs around his partner's hips, digging his heels in and trying to pull himself further onto the intruding member. Boromir pushed once to drive himself harder into the grip of the hot channel, and Gandalf began to keen with the searing bliss that resulted from the hard, direct pressure on his most sensitive point. Reassured, Boromir started to pump with short, rhythmic thrusts, trying to move slowly inward and resist the urge to relieve his pent-up desire quickly. Soon the sweat was trickling down his forehead with the effort, and two-thirds of his thick shaft was inside. As Gandalf adjusted to being so thoroughly filled, the Man repeatedly pulled nearly out and tighten his powerful hip muscles to forcefully bury himself.

Gandalf was trembling, but he sought to hold his body as steady as possible, not wanting to risk changing the angle of that perfect, unbelievably intense pressure sliding heavily over the gland that sent fire through his body. This was exactly what he had wanted of Boromir-powerful, overwhelming sex, a pure exchange of ecstasy. After all the talk and thought and tensions of the past week, it was thrilling to surrender himself to this splendid Man and feel the slight burn of the stretching giving way to soaring delight. He raised his head to tongue Boromir's ear and to nip at the lobe. His arms went around the Man's torso, the fingers digging into his back.

At last the blood was singing in his ears, and he felt dizzy with the force of his need. Boromir was gasping and whimpering, and he was speeding up slightly. "I can't ... hold back," the Man whispered. "Then do it!" Gandalf said in a strained voice. At once his partner reached down and fumbled to find the Wizard's erection lying against his own belly. He grasped it and pumped hard even as he thrust faster. He spilled at once, rearing up and groaning repeatedly, even as the end of his member sent Gandalf hurtling into bliss. The Wizard cried out his rapture, coming so hard that the first spurt of seed reached his cheek. The rest splattered onto his chest and belly before easing to a last few small gushes that coated Boromir's fingers.

For about a minute they remained in the same position, letting their muscles gradually relax. They were covered in sweat and eventually began to feel the cool night air, for the Wizard had had no chance to start a fire. Gandalf glanced toward the drawer, and Boromir took the hint, leaning to reach into it and drew out some kerchiefs. He wiped himself and the Wizard as he withdrew, and they sponged their skin partially dry as well. Gandalf pulled the pillow from under his hips and placed it by his own. Heavily Boromir dropped beside the Wizard, rolling onto his back.

Ordinarily Gandalf would have moved to his partner, and they would have lain in each other's arms, exchanging whispered endearments and expressions of contentment. That was how he behaved with Elves, at any rate. Somehow it was too romantic as a reaction to this intense coupling. The two turned their heads to exchange smiles, and they held hands. It seemed enough.

Eventually Boromir stretched and remarked with a grin, "That was marvelous! I only wish that I had changed my opinions about you days ago."

Gandalf chuckled. "Marvelous indeed!"

They fell silent once more. The Wizard had had so little idea that his yearnings concerning Boromir would ever come to anything that he had not pondered what might happen if they did make love. He had no illusions that either of them would attach too much significance to this event and become infatuated with the other. There did seem a good possibility that they would want to share such joys again before their departure, but even then it would not go beyond physical pleasure. Gandalf decided that it would be best to be straightforward about the future.

He asked, "Has Elrond said anything to you about the Fellowship that is being formed?"

"Yes, and he hinted that I might be a member of it."

"It would certainly make sense, given that your return route to Minas Tirith lies in much that same direction as that which the group will follow. The Fellowship will ideally represent various races of Middle-earth, and we would want to have a Man or two involved. Certainly your military valor and skill are beyond question, and Gondor's fate, like those of all lands, is bound up with that of the Ring. I know you would find it in your country's interest to help protect the one who carries it."

Boromir nodded thoughtfully.

"Given what we have just done, I should be frank about what would happen if you do join the Fellowship. There would be no more of this, of course. We would be comrades rather than ..." He hesitated only for an instant, not wanting to call himself and Boromir "lovers." "... bedmates," he concluded.

Boromir nodded again. "I understand, and of course, you're right." He laughed suddenly. "Yes, it would not be wise to arrive at home and tell my father, 'Sire, Mithrandir will not need a guest room while he is here. He'll be sharing my bed.'"

Gandalf joined him in his laughter, glad of the confirmation that Boromir was not taking what had passed between them too seriously. As it subsided, Boromir resumed, "In fact, I should go now. I'm sure you don't want me to be seen sneaking out your door in the morning. The chances of anyone being about at this hour are slim."

"As you wish," Gandalf murmured, though he felt it was just as well if the Man didn't spend the night with him. Now that they had satisfied their desires, the situation seemed almost awkward, and he was glad that Boromir didn't feel obliged to stay and keep up some pretense of there being any romance in what had just happened.

Gandalf watched appreciatively as the Man rose and dressed. He sat up as Boromir came back to the bed and leaned over to kiss him. Standing erect again, the Man smiled and said, "Of course, I gather we are to stay here for some weeks before setting out. Since you seem to have enjoyed this as much as I did, perhaps you would not object to a few more late-night visits."

"Far from it. In fact, I shall go even further. I am delighted that those Elves you flirted with showed so little interest in you."

Once the Man had departed, Gandalf doused the candle by his bed and laid back. He was convinced that he had not felt so blissfully satisfied after sex for a very long time. The slight ache in his nether regions that he was beginning to feel reminded him that there was a price to pay for lying with such a large, vigorous Man. Still, it was definitely worth it. And it will be next time as well, he thought with a faint smile as he drifted off to sleep.