Title: Last Look 
Author:Ruby Nye 
Author's email: Shmi@bantha.org 
Pairing: Frodo/Merry 
Other pairings: Merry/Pippin, Frodo/Pippin, other hobbit assortments 
discussed 
Rating: R/NC-17 
Summary: In August 1421, Frodo has Merry to visit of an evening. 
 
"I have never seen such a beautiful baby." Merry unbuttoned his weskit as 
he spoke, draping it on the chair by the window. A vase of poppies and 
cornflowers stood on the windowsill; the scent of more flowers blew in on 
the evening breeze, and Merry turned towards it, looking out at the 
renewed garden. Even in the twilight it glowed with color, with climbing 
roses and snapdragons and sunflowers. Sam had gently fretted over dinner 
that the garden wasn't the same as before the year they were away;  Merry 
had taken impish pleasure in agreeing, as Rosie struggled to suppress her 
indignation and Frodo kicked him beneath the table, then in watching Sam's 
face flush with abashed pride as Merry told him that the garden was 
lovelier than it had ever been before. 
 
_Before_. The word echoed in Merry's thoughts as he looked out at the 
dusk-lit garden. One word, bearing an entire world of changes. 
 
Realizing that he had not heard an answer, Merry turned his head; Frodo 
lay on the bed, head propped up on his arm and unlaced shirt open at the 
shadowed base of his pale throat, looking at Merry rather as Merry must 
have looked at the garden. Not being a flower, Merry felt his skin 
prickling beneath the steady blue stare. "Well?" Merry asked; Frodo merely 
continued to gaze at him. "Have you?" 
 
"Have I what, Merry?" Frodo replied, voice soft and distant. Merry 
contemplated going over and shaking him. "Have you ever seen such a 
beautiful baby as Elanor?" he repeated, a touch impatiently; Frodo 
blinked, and smiled, and shook his head. "No, never," he said in a more 
normal tone of voice, as he sat  up against the bed head. "I wonder what 
she'll look like when she's grown." 
 
"Doubtless Sam will need your help to beat off all the suitors," Merry 
replied, running his eyes over Frodo. One good stare deserved another, 
after all. Besides...the sunlight was fading, the stars and moon not yet 
out, so what was it that so lit Frodo's eyes, so shone from his pale 
cheeks? It was disconcertingly as if he were glowing from within, as if he 
were made of alabaster and night and sky rather than blood and bone and 
flesh. 
 
Surprised by the strange image and stranger thoughts, Merry shook himself 
and blinked, and when he looked again he saw his beloved elder cousin, a 
little paler, a bit more wistful, little silver glints in his hair, but 
otherwise nearly the same as ever; his friend Frodo, who now tilted his 
head and regarded Merry quizzically. "Do I have a smudge of gravy on my 
cheek?" 
 
"Gravy? Why?" 
 
"You're looking at me oddly." One corner of Frodo's mouth quirked, and 
Merry grinned. Ah, yes, some things never did change. "Hmmm, I wouldn't 
say gravy," Merry replied, walking over slowly, watching Frodo's gaze 
shift and kindle as it ran over him, "but I would bet you taste 
good." Frodo rolled his eyes, but he was grinning too, and as Merry leaned 
over to plant his hands on either side of him Frodo closed the distance 
between them for the kiss. 
 
Yes, some things were as lovely as ever, Merry thought, as he parted 
Frodo's soft lips with his, as Frodo's hands slid up his arms; then the 
room flipped, but it was really Merry who'd been pulled down and rolled 
under. He whuffed in surprise, and Frodo chuckled against his mouth and 
got a knee between his thighs. "Hullo, lad," Frodo murmured, and most 
bossily kissed Merry again before he could reply. Working his mouth over 
Merry's, sucking and twining, Frodo lovingly stole Merry's breath, 
pressing him into the bed with the kiss and his hands round his arms and 
the slowly increasing thrust of his knee. 
 
Swept with surprise and then heat, Merry moaned and gasped; he distantly 
heard the mattress crackle by his ear as Frodo pushed harder and more 
rousingly yet, and the little sound drew out a wisp of thought from his 
melting wits. So it was bossy Frodo wanted? Merry wound his leg round the 
thigh wedging his apart, and pushed with the other foot, and over they 
went again, Frodo gasping into the kiss as Merry landed on him; tucking 
his knees on either side of Frodo, it was Merry's turn to chuckle, and to 
nip Frodo's upper lip at that smirk-holding corner. Merry could do bossy. 
 
Frodo returned the chuckle, and tugged his mouth from Merry's to press a 
bite to the underside of Merry's jaw. ""So you think you have me beneath 
you, little cousin?" he murmured over the tingling skin as Merry  pushed 
his shirt off, fingers sliding over skin and tracing the muscles beneath. 
 
"Little?" Merry exclaimed indignantly and nipped Frodo's ear. "Little? I'm 
a handspan taller than you. And I _am_ on top." 
 
"Indeed." Frodo kissed the hollow of Merry's throat as he unbuttoned 
Merry's shirt. "But can you stay there?" Given this fair warning, Merry 
planted his knees and ducked his head for another kiss; Frodo tilted his 
face up for it, pushing up into it as he curled one hand into Merry's hair 
and one round his hip---- 
 
---and kicked off and flipped them over again. "Mmph!" said Merry, but his 
fingertips only skimmed the wall, and Frodo hooked a knee behind his and, 
pushing one hand against the headboard, held Merry fast. 
 
One leg tangled by Frodo's and the other flung out without purchase across 
the mattress, Frodo's hand wound in his hair to hold him as his mouth was 
thoroughly explored, Merry hauled thought up out of the haze of sensation 
and considered his situation. He could, if he wished, buck Frodo 
off. However, he couldn't roll them back the way they'd come, not with 
Frodo braced like that, and to roll the other way would dump them on the 
floor. Merry thought himself a little too old to tumble on the floor 
beside a perfectly good bed, though Frodo would doubtless be up for it. 
 
So, slowly and quite deliberately, Merry dragged his foot up Frodo's side, 
ankle and knee and hip, feeling the trembling the caress evoked, and 
draped his long leg around Frodo's waist. Frodo drew his mouth back just 
far enough to smile, mouth curving against Merry's, and brought his hand 
down to wind it in Merry's hair beside the other one as he kissed him all 
the more deeply. Merry briefly considered taking advantage and flipping 
them over again, but Frodo was pressed into him all along their fronts, 
skin and flesh warmly flush, pricks nudging and bumping through breeches 
(and why were those still on?), and, well, he'd hardly lost, had he? 
 
Frodo squirmed down a half-inch for a better fit, then slowly bucked 
against him, and Merry felt a flare of aching pleasure, felt his eyes roll 
back behind closed lids, felt a moan echo in his throat, and gave 
in. Arching his back as he ran his hands down Frodo's, Merry felt the 
curling lash-scar over thin strong muscles and was reminded of 
Pippin's; Merry curved his hands round Frodo's rump for purchase as he 
ground up against him and smiled at the answering gasp. "Seems you've won 
for now, big cousin," Merry purred into Frodo's ear between nibbles. "What 
do you want for your prize?" Stroking one hand around to tuck it between 
them, he started to undo breeches-buttons, but Frodo caught his wrist to 
stop him. "For the moment, slow," Frodo murmured over his 
collarbone. "Slow." He punctuated the word with a lick. 
 
"Slow?" Merry asked disbelievingly. When he was already hot and damp and 
prickling all over, and all of Frodo he could feel was too? Wanting quite 
badly to get at both their buttons, Merry turned his hand in Frodo's grasp 
to run his fingers up the bulge he felt against his thigh, and Frodo's 
sucked-in breath drew a cool tingling breeze across Merry's 
kiss-sensitized shoulder. "Slow?" he repeated with a little wriggle and a 
smaller smirk, expecting Frodo to sigh and laugh and tear off their 
clothes and get to the tupping already. 
 
Instead Merry got a stirringly shocking growl, and both his wrists 
captured and pressed to the bed at his sides. "Slow," Frodo insisted, and 
closed his lips over Merry's nipple, and then his teeth. Jagged sparks of 
pleasure crackling through him, Merry cried out and writhed and tugged 
against the hands clamped round his wrists, and Frodo leaned his weight on 
those wrists and bit harder for a moment, then soothed the bite with his 
tongue, chuckling as a panting and quivering Merry slumped beneath him . 
Then Frodo licked a broad swath across Merry's chest, and bit his other 
nipple hard, and Merry all but screamed as he drummed his heels on Frodo's 
back. Was Frodo trying to kill him, Merry wondered as he thrashed; his 
prick was so hard he was leaking, he could feel the dampness of the cloth 
straining over it, smeared wider as Frodo ground down into him. Frodo bit 
his nipple till all the sensation of his body seemed centered in those two 
places, then blew over the throbbing nub, and the chill rousing burn of it 
made Merry arch and shout till he realized his eyes had rolled back in his 
head again, and they wouldn't immediately focus when he pried them 
open. "You'll make me explode," Merry choked out, and Frodo chuckled and 
kissed him over his heart, releasing his wrists as he kissed his way down 
over Merry's quivering belly to finally, finally undo those obstructive 
breeches. Merry reached down to get at Frodo's, but all he managed was to 
clutch at the bedsheets as without word or preamble Frodo made to swallow 
him whole. 
 
A searing wave of pleasure blanked Merry's sight and mind, and in its wake 
came a memory of the first time Frodo had tupped him, the first time he'd 
ever been tupped, how heartstoppingly nervous he'd been and how Frodo had 
kissed him and soothed him and brought him off three times. Absently 
wondering why he was remembering that time during this one, Merry pried 
open his eyes and got his elbows beneath himself to look down at Frodo's 
dark head between his thighs. The very sight made him gasp and twitch, and 
Frodo chuckled and sucked harder, and Merry collapsed back against the 
bed. "Frodo, Frodo, don't, I'll----" 
 
"Hmm."  Drawing his lips up slowly and savoring the whimpers that 
produced, Frodo lifted his head and smiled up at Merry, idly 
finger-combing the curls at Merry's groin with one hand as he pushed his 
breeches off with the other. "Perhaps you're right. It might be that slow 
is rather too slow." 
 
It was Merry's turn to growl. "Are you going to talk all night?" Frodo 
laughed as Merry lunged at him, caught his shoulders, and crushed their 
mouths together. Merry bodily dragged Frodo over himself, winding his legs 
around him; Frodo sank one hand into Merry's hair and tugged his head back 
gently as he pushed the kiss deeper, and the taste of himself overlying 
the taste of Frodo made Merry's mind haze, made a tremor run through 
him. Frodo's other hand was rummaging in the nightstand; Merry impatiently 
reached over to help him, and only succeeded in knocking the flask out of 
his hand, whereupon Frodo laughed so hard he had to break the kiss and 
collapse shaking onto Merry's shoulder. 
 
Merry's cheeks burned; he thought several curses but refrained from saying 
any of them. "That," Frodo teased, kissing Merry's nose and carefully 
avoiding his pouting mouth, "was a move worthy of Pippin." 
 
"Why, Frodo," said Merry in his best mock-wounded tones, "can't you tell 
us apart?" He expected a laugh, but Frodo paused in mid-reach to turn 
deep, serious eyes to him. "Always, Merry," he said, tears in the corners 
of his eyes; his heart suddenly and sweetly aching, Merry reached up to 
kiss Frodo again, and the kiss was returned as intently as if Frodo were 
trying to store away in memory every bit of him. 
 
Then Frodo pulled back, smiled at Merry, and kissed his nose again. "Even 
blindfolded," he said, eyes twinkling, and Merry remembered, and laughed. 
 
Frodo leaned over the edge to retrieve the flask, and Merry felt his body 
move and twist, watched that whiplash scar on his back writhe beneath his 
hand, felt the raised wraithblade scar bump between them as Frodo reached 
further. Then Frodo had the flask, and was over Merry again, slicking 
himself and hooking one elbow behind Merry's knee, and Merry found it very 
easy to forget scars and journeys and everything aside of Frodo in his 
arms, biting his lip in sweet concentration, easing into him. Merry held 
his breath and held his other knee and held still though every mote of him 
screamed to thrust up to meet Frodo, held himself till their bodies were 
flush, till he held all of Frodo that he could. 
 
Frodo rested his brow against Merry's; Merry had to curl himself to it, 
but it was worth the ache in his back. "Merry," he breathed, and Merry 
opened eyes he hadn't even realized he'd closed to find the whole world 
gone to the bed and the moment and Frodo's blue-dark eyes. "Frodo," he 
murmured, looping his arm round Frodo's neck, dazed by the solemnity that 
had somehow seeped in to rise to a current, a flood. "Frodo, I..." He 
almost said _love you_, but the words stuck in his mouth, weighted by 
their freight of truth. "Frodo." 
 
"Merry," Frodo repeated, wet-eyed, and tipped his chin forward to catch 
Merry's mouth, and settled his hands on the flesh-wrapped bone of Merry's 
hips. "Merry," Frodo murmured over his lips, and a tear fell on Merry's 
mouth like an unsaid endearment, and when Frodo pulled back Merry nearly 
clutched him to hold him, except that then he began to thrust, and wasn't 
that what Merry'd wanted? For Frodo to tup him hard, grasping his hips, 
pounding him into the mattress; to have Frodo's face pressed to his 
shoulder, Frodo gasping in his ear, his cock squeezed and rubbed between 
their bodies? Then why did he want to look up into Frodo's eyes again, as 
he had their first time together, as Pippin had the first time Merry had 
tupped him? 
 
Why was he thinking at all, Merry wondered as he clutched Frodo, feeling 
the rippling jolt of pleasure through him on every thrust, feeling his 
peak rising up to push all thoughts from his mind. He gave himself over to 
it, gave himself over to Frodo, and sobbed as it engulfed him, and 
realized somehow that Frodo was sobbing too. 
 
As ever, the moment of bursting, of transport, and then the moment after, 
when Merry opened his eyes to feel himself back in a sweaty sated hobbit's 
body, another wrapped in his arms and legs. Frodo made an indistinct 
sound, and raised his face from Merry's shoulder to rub it with the back 
of one hand, and got his elbows beneath him. "I should---" 
 
"No, I can breathe." Merry pressed his hands to Frodo's back. "Don't get 
off me." Frodo shrugged, and planted his elbows on the mattress, and Merry 
could have laughed for the sheer normalcy of it, after the disturbing 
intensity of a moment ago. _Why did we do that as if it were the last 
time?_, he wanted to ask; "Whew," was what he actually said, rubbing his 
own hand across his face, and Frodo gave him a bright smile and kissed 
him, and rolled off despite his words. Merry pulled him close to 
retaliate, and Frodo chuckled softly and rested his head on Merry's 
shoulder. 
 
Merry closed his eyes and just drifted, arm tucked around Frodo, but after 
a little while Frodo said, "I have something for you to give Pippin, if 
you would." 
 
"I'll take it with me; did he forget it when he was visiting here?" Merry 
yawned and stretched out his legs, turning to drape one over Frodo. The 
evening breeze blew cool into the room.  "No," Frodo replied. "I merely 
decided on his birthday present, is all. And his sisters' presents; as 
long as you're off to Great Smials to retrieve him, might you take those, 
too? I hope you don't feel I'm making you into a beast of burden, Merry." 
 
"Well, you just rode me and all," Merry pointed out, and smiled to hear 
Frodo laugh. "Planning and sending your birthday presents, already? You're 
not having a party this year?" 
 
Frodo shook his head against Merry's shoulder. "Not this year. I feel like 
having a quiet birthday, with Sam and Rose and Elanor. You don't mind?" 
 
"It's not like a Brandybuck to pass up a chance for a party," Merry 
teased, and Frodo snorted and laughed again. "You must be a Baggins." 
 
"Even Lobelia admitted I was, eventually." They both snickered just a bit 
guiltily at that; Merry asked, "So, what am I hauling with me, pack animal 
that I am?" 
 
"Books I think they will like." Merry sucked in his breath at this news, 
and Frodo favored him with an odd look. "_You_, giving away your 
books?" Merry asked incredulously. "Smaug would sooner have given away his 
hoard!" 
 
Frodo huffed, though he began idly tracing over Merry's wet belly. "Don't 
be so dramatic. I just want to see some of my books find good homes." 
 
"I hope you don't give them all away; Bag End would look naked without 
them, and after Pip and I hauled them all back here." 
 
"Fear not, Merry, I won't strip Bag End." Frodo licked his fingers. "We 
should clean up," he observed, but made no move to find anything, nor to 
let go of Merry so he might. 
 
"There's a handkerchief in my pocket," Merry replied, but Frodo eventually 
swiped at them both with a corner of the sheet. "Rose will kill us." Frodo 
shook his head, smiling, and returned to running his fingers lazily over 
Merry's skin. 
 
The fingers paused for a moment when Merry quietly asked, "how is it, 
living here with them? I know that Rose knew how you and Sam always have 
been, and that you and she talked, but, still, knowing is one thing---" 
 
"---and seeing another?" Frodo's fingers moved again, in sweeping spirals, 
and his voice was clear and happy. "It has been wonderful, Merry. Nothing 
short of wonderful." 
 
"Good." Merry squeezed him gently. "She has always seemed a fine lass, and 
Sam looks as happy as a hobbit ever was, as happy as he deserves to be." 
 
Frodo nodded his agreement. "Speaking of wedded hobbits," Frodo said, 
giving Merry's sore nipple a tweak; when Merry grabbed his wrist, he 
laughed. "What of your and Estella's wedding?" 
 
"We'll have it May, most likely, and don't pinch me or I'll tickle 
you." Frodo gave in, still laughing, but Merry held his hand anyway, just 
in case. "Poor Stel. For her part, she was ready this past spring, but her 
Mum's planning something huge; I tremble to think on it. In her letters 
she keeps saying she's going to run away and turn up in Crickhollow one 
day." 
 
"And for your part?" 
 
"For my part...." Merry wasn't entirely certain of his part, but he tried 
to organize it in his mind as best he could. "I'm looking forward to being 
married to Stel, to seeing as much of her as I see of Pip. And they're 
looking forward to joining forces against me, I know it." 
 
Frodo snickered. "Rose and I ally to boss Sam all the time, to his own 
benefit. It's good for a hobbit." 
 
"So much for sympathy from _you_," Another snicker was all Frodo's 
answer. "Still....I hope Pippin will be well, when I am no longer solely 
his Merry. That's part of why I asked how it is, with you and Sam and 
Rose." 
 
Frodo raised his head to look at Merry. "Pip and I spoke on this, " he 
said, "and I think he will be well, and he looks forward to your 
happiness. Besides, he might not be alone so very long. Remember the 
Jewels of Long Cleeve?" 
 
Merry nodded. Hildibras Took's fair dark-eyed daughters; he'd fancied 
himself in love with Emerald once, long ago, or was it Ruby? "Pip has a 
kissing-friend among them, I think. At least, he's actually exchanged 
letters with Long Cleeve, and you know how he is at correspondence." 
 
"Near as bad as Uncle Milo." Frodo grinned, rather Tookishly, which was 
appropriate considering the subject. "Diamond is her name; you might 
recall her now. Ask Pippin about her to watch him blush, or Estella for 
actual information, as they are friends." 
 
"How is it that you know more about my sweethearts than I do?" Merry 
demanded, and Frodo merely grinned wider and kissed him. Merry wound a 
hand into Frodo's damp silky curls, letting it slide down across his cheek 
when the kiss ended. "I am glad to see you doing so well," Frodo said, 
soft and serious again. 
 
Merry felt a pulse of worry. "As I am you, or I would be if you'd smile 
more," he replied, bringing his hands up to cradle Frodo's face. "You look 
so grave so often these days. Just now, the way you tupped me, I might 
think you were never going to see me again." 
 
Frodo's eyes widened then narrowed, and Merry hoped he hadn't annoyed him, 
but it had borne saying. Then Frodo smiled sweetly, cupping Merry's cheek 
in his hand. "Pippin asked the same thing," Frodo said lightly. "I think 
I'm just growing properly sober as befits my age." 
 
Merry laughed, the worry melting away. "You, sober? Never. You'll take 
after Bilbo and be jolly all your life." 
 
"I hope so, Merry." Something about Frodo's tone made Merry look up, but 
Frodo had closed his eyes, and was leaning in to kiss him again, sweet and 
warm. Then Frodo tucked himself to Merry's side again as he said, 
"Besides, I wanted a last look at each of you. I'll be rather busy for 
awhile, writing in the Red Book, settling affairs from the year we were 
away, and so on. You may not see much of me." 
 
"Sam will just have to report to us how you are, then." Merry laughed, and 
Frodo snorted and poked him. "I still can't believe you suborned my 
gardener," Frodo said with false peevishness; Merry was about to respond 
when Frodo captured his mouth with a different, much hotter sort of kiss, 
trailing a hand over his belly and lower. "I think you should make it up 
to me," Frodo murmured against Merry's ear, nudging him to roll 
over; Merry giggled and pushed back. "Oh, no, Frodo, if you work me up 
again I'm going to win the wrestling match this time." 
 
"Oh, roll over, you daft Brandybuck."  Frodo nipped the ear he spoke into, 
and Merry tensed, heat stirring in his belly. "I want to watch you," came 
a smoky whisper in his ear, an entirely different sort of serious, and 
Merry shivered and rolled onto his side. Frodo molded to his back, 
slipping a knee between his, and moonlight silvered the garden outside. "I 
want to watch you peak in my arms, in my hands." Frodo punctuated his 
words with bites to Merry's shoulders and nape, and Merry gasped, feeling 
the bites throb, Frodo's warm firm body pressed to his, Frodo's hands 
twisting round his prick and stroking him lightly, cheeks and chin and 
sweetly sore nipples.. 
 
With a pleasant shiver, Merry realized that he would come off faster this 
time, if anything. He was drowsy, which made him more susceptible, and 
Frodo was pouring a long stream of soft words into his ear, that liquid 
murmur he gave sometimes in bed; after hearing it spoken fairly often on 
their year away, Merry now knew it was Elvish, with his name in Westron 
occasionally bobbing up. Blushing slightly at the incongruity of his name 
amidst that lovely incomprehensible speech, Merry twisted round to catch 
Frodo's mouth with his and kiss him; Frodo's tongue danced in time with 
his hand wreathing Merry's cock, as Merry moaned and softened like wax in 
Frodo's arms. Hands clenching and blooming in the sheets as Frodo's 
knowing hands stroked him into a hot tingling quiver, Merry keened into 
the kiss as he melted away into pleasure and slowly congealed again. 
 
When Merry could hear anything again beyond his own blood pounding in his 
temples, Frodo was whispering to him in Westron. "Beautiful lad," said 
Frodo softly, stroking Merry's brow; Merry smiled and shook his head, and 
Frodo kissed him right on the scar. "Yes, you are," he insisted, voice 
just a little hoarse. "My tall lordly magnificent Meriadoc, you'll always 
be my beautiful lad Merry." 
 
"And right now I'm your weary lad Merry." Merry proved his words with a 
yawn. "If you're not proddy, let's sleep." Frodo chuckled gently and 
draped his arm across Merry's belly; snug with his cousin tucked behind 
him, Merry began to drift. 
 
"Did you ever forgive me?" Frodo asked softly, jolting Merry from his 
doze. "Mmph?", Merry replied, and Frodo repeated the question. "Did you 
forgive me for not fighting in the Battle of Bywater?" 
 
That woke Merry up for the moment at least, to blink as he thought on 
it; Frodo's voice had been calm, but he was trembling with holding his 
breath. "I do, Frodo. I forgave you long ago. It took me a long time to 
understand, and I'm not sure I could put it into words, but...Pippin and 
I, our time away made us soldiers. Yours made you something else." 
 
Frodo sighed and eased, and kissed the side of Merry's head. "Why do you 
ask now?" Merry mumbled. "It was nearly two years ago." 
 
"Because I needed to know. Goodnight, Merry." Merry snorted at that reply, 
but, too sated and weary to pursue it, he closed his eyes; making a note 
to ask about Frodo's strange mood, he fell asleep. 
 
Merry never did ask in the morning, but a month and a half later a letter 
from Gandalf gave him the answer.