Title: Espionage Author's name: Ruby Nye Author's email: shmi@bantha.org Pairing : Frodo/Pippin, Sam/Merry, Frodo/Sam, Merry/Pippin Rating: R Warnings: cheerful nonmonogamy Summary: Pippin distracts Frodo; Sam reports to Merry Disclaimer: not my characters, not my world, not my money, and all that. * "What're you doing?" Pippin draped himself over Frodo's neck, fastening his mouth to one eartip before Frodo even answered. Frodo bit his lip, willing aroused quavers from his voice, and replied, "finishing this passage, before Sam returns from market." "Hmm," Pippin nibbled Frodo's eartip. "Certain, are you?" Though his blood already simmered, Frodo sighed, setting the parchment aside. "Do you have something else in mind?" Pippin nodded, biting down just perfectly hard enough; Frodo's breath hissed, belying his sternness. "This had best be worth it," Frodo growled, twisting in his seat, and Pippin laughed as Frodo pulled him onto his lap. * "Thank'ee for the help, Mr. Merry, but I'm thinking you're not here just to unpack provisions." Sam worked as he spoke, as if he couldn't be forthright while facing Merry. "You're right, Sam," Merry admitted, admiring the view before tucking his arms round Sam's waist. "How is my kinsman doing?" Sam's back, which had curved itself to Merry's front, stiffened. "I shouldn't tell tales on him, not even to you, sir, begging---" "Then don't." Merry's hand slid down. "I'll ask. Just nod or shake your head." "But---!" Sam grasped Merry's wrist. "Then why---" Merry smiled against Sam's throat. "So you'll be truthful." * Pippin wriggled as they kissed, hooking his leg around Frodo's back. "I've always wondered about this desk," he said, bumping noses, smiling to see indignation, intrigue, desire all flicker through Frodo's expression. "My desk?" Frodo repeated incredulously, though his hands tightened on Pippin's hips. "What if---" "Sam won't be back for awhile." Pippin rocked as he spoke, knowing the press and slide to be more persuasive than words. "And Merry's taking a walk. And I won't let you up till you tup me." That worked. "My desk." Frodo said, entirely differently, and his eyes blazed as he pushed Pippin down onto it. * "This autumn, do you think?" Merry's voice was low and warm, his hand twisting and warmer. Sam nodded, gasping, pressing his damp brow to Merry's neck. "Good," Merry murmured. "Time to plan." His cheek stroked Sam's brow. "Do you think he'll tell us?" Sam hardly heard for his blood's pounding, but he shook one head, moaning as Merry ran his thumb over the other. "Of course not. Stubborn Baggins." Merry's breath curled over Sam's mouth, as Sam struggled between laughing agreement and defending his master; Merry gave a third option by speeding his hand, with another damp kiss. * Frodo slid his hands along Pippin's flanks, telling over the velvet-draped ribs, tracing patterns in freckles. Having got his way whole and entire, Pippin smirked up at Frodo even as he shuddered beneath his hands. "Well," Pippin insisted, self-possessed as if he weren't breathless, "aren't you going to thank me for giving you something to do?" "I had work to do," Frodo retorted, and Pippin's cheeky smile only widened. "And you are going to pay for interrupting me." Snapping his hips forward, Frodo forced his eyes to stay open to watch Pippin's flutter shut, his lips part, his back arch. * Sam laughed before he even ceased trembling. "Ah, Mr. Merry," he gasped into Merry's shoulder. "Pleased now, are you, to treat old Sam so?" "I'm pleased if you are, Sam." Merry licked his hand, holding Sam close with the other; when Sam eased open his eyes Merry returned his smile and kissed him. Sam pushed up into the kiss with unexpected assertiveness; his hand closed round Merry's wrist gently, but with strength behind it. "It seems your turn, sir," Sam murmured, his other hand settling over Merry's hard prick; Merry's eyes widened, and Sam smiled sweetly and kissed him again. * Amidst the thrust and the slide, the desk hard beneath him and Frodo hard within him, Pippin almost forgot why, besides pleasure of course, he'd wanted this. Then Frodo swore. "The jar's empty. Let me go to the pantry---" "Stay! It's fine!" Pippin pushed himself up, winding arms round Frodo's neck. "Just lick your hand. Or let me." "Pippin." Frodo's fond smile belied his reproving tone. "That's too rough." "I like rough." Pippin pressed his face to Frodo's throat, licking a spot he knew would elicit shudders. "Don't let go." "Pip. Ah, Pip." Frodo groaned, pulse beating against Pippin's mouth, and sank down again. * Sometimes in these moments, Sam thought, stroking Merry's curls as Merry breathed hard against his shoulder, he could see a certain likeness between Merry and Frodo. A certain easing of bossiness, tremble of lip... Merry opened smoky eyes, and Sam dismissed the thought, smiled, and said, "Excuse me, Mr. Merry, but I'd best be up soon, not least to draw a bath." Merry blinked, still dazed, so Sam continued, "if Master Pippin's been keeping Mr. Frodo occupied as you've been me, then they'll need one afore luncheon, I'm thinking." Merry grinned. "You're remarkable," he said, and kissed Sam once more. * "Ooof." Pippin threw himself facedown on the bed. "Frodo rode me like you wouldn't believe!" "And that's why you're lying arse-up now?" Merry smacked said arse, and Pippin yelped. "You'll be pleased, then, that Sam told me a great deal. We have till Autumn at least." "Plenty of time---hey!" Pippin rolled away from Merry's hand, and Merry pouted extravagantly at him. "You can't mean to tell me Frodo wore you out, Pip!" "Of course not," Pippin said, puffing out his chest, then lunged and rolled Merry over. "But I do mean to tell you I get to be on top tonight." * "My cousins are a bad influence on you," Frodo said from beneath Sam's chin; Sam tensed, and Frodo laughed, kissing his jaw. "I didn't know you and Merry were still playing tweens." "Now and again," Sam mumbled. Frodo shifted, stroking over Sam's heart, easing its pounding. "Not that I should talk, letting Pippin waylay me. They both won't leave me be, almost if they know I'm going soon. I suppose that's my guilty conscience talking." "You've naught to feel guilty on," Sam replied, stroking Frodo's hair, glad Frodo couldn't see his present blush, gladder still when Frodo contentedly sighed.