Taking Care of Pippin

Author: mirith
Pairing: Merry/Pippin; Frodo/Sam.
Rating: NC-17.
E-mail: mirith@pobox.com
LJ: http://www.livejournal.com/users/mirith/
Summary: Pippin is concerned for Frodo's well-being. Merry is concerned 
for Pippin's - and his own.
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, hobbits included. Even in the Bush era, 
the Thirteenth Amendment stands. Not making any money off LOTR; just 
spending it.
Feedback: Please, please, please? Oh, I forgot: please.


"Merry, wake up!"

Opening one eye, Merry struggled to comply. The room was cloaked in 
darkness, and next to him on the bed, on the side nearest the wall, lay 
Pippin. Although he was not so much lying, Merry soon realized, as 
wriggling, supplemented by vigorous clutching. Merry had been having a 
dream about his impulsive cousin, and while the begging and writhing 
were very much in keeping with that dream, the younger hobbit's panic 
was not.

"Ouch, Pip, not so hard," Merry complained, wiping the sleep from his 
eyes with the arm that Pippin had left free. "What's wrong?" As soon as he 
asked, he knew that the eerie, keening sound coming through the wall was 
at the heart of the trouble. The noise seemed familiar, but wrapped in a 
haze of sleep, Merry couldn't place it.

"It's Frodo," blurted Pippin, gripping Merry all the harder. "He's hurt. 
Come on, we have to get up!"

Merry opened the other eye, then adrenaline propelled him upright. "Got 
to help Frodo" flashed through his head. Have to find him first. Where is 
he? And for that matter, Merry thought, squinting into the shadows, where 
am I? Sunflowers in a vase, a dwarven grate by the fireplace: right, Bag 
End, the guest room. Yes. So Frodo is in the next room. His room. That's 
it. With ... with Sam.

Suddenly, Merry understood why Frodo was moaning.

Merry's cheeks burned, as did his arm. He generally liked it when Pippin 
touched him, but the grasping fingertips had left indentations in his 
nightshirt, and Merry was sure these were mirrored in the flesh beneath. 
He eased Pippin's knuckles open.

"It's nothing," he muttered. "Go back to sleep. He's fine." Better than fine, 
he thought sourly, letting himself drop back onto the bed. He was anxious 
to head back to his dreams, where he could do things to his limber, green-
eyed cousin that he couldn't do awake. Merry felt heat speeding to the 
center of his body as his blood made a diversion southward. He bit his arm 
to keep quiet.

He had just closed his eyes again when he felt an elbow in his stomach. 
"Ow!" he protested, eyes snapping open. Pippin was trying to scramble 
over Merry's prone body to get to the door, and was thumping against his 
victim's erection in the process.

Now it was Merry's turn to panic. He had to prevent Pippin from noticing 
just how depraved his older cousin really was. Merry's instincts often led 
him in the wrong direction, and now they told him to unseat his passenger 
by bucking his hips. It was not, he realized in retrospect, the course of 
action most likely to divert attention from his groin. Fortunately, Pippin 
was oblivious, but he would not be toppled. This led to a panting, 
quivering stalemate: Pippin on top, his slender wrists caught in Merry's 
hands; Merry squirming beneath.

Merry had almost been lulled into releasing his cousin, when Pippin 
became a trapped animal, all flailing limbs and panic. "Let me go!"

"Listen, sweetheart," Merry pleaded. It was something he called Pip when 
nobody else was around. "Just calm down..."

But Pippin was determined. "Not until you help Frodo!" he cried. The two 
cousins struggled silently.

As they tried to catch their breath, a high, clear laugh broke the stillness. 
One room away, the subject of their conversation was giggling. Then (how 
thin the walls were!) gasping. Then moaning again, long and low, in a way 
that suggested he did not want help from anyone but Sam.

Merry looked up at Pip, who was holding still, his head cocked in the 
direction of the sounds. Now that the two of them were no longer 
thrashing, Merry was acutely aware that his cousin was straddling him, his 
wrists clenched in Merry's hands. It was summer, and Pip was in his 
warm-weather sleeping costume: bare skin. He was naked and breathing 
hard, sheathed in moonlight from the nearby window. Merry shifted 
uncomfortably, then let go of Pippin's wrists. Too late, he forced himself 
to think of day-old oatmeal. Lobelia Sackville-Baggins with a bad haircut. 
Hangovers. Anything but Pippin's rose and alabaster body pressing ...

Pippin's gaze moved down the length of Merry's body, stopping at the 
center. "Merry!" he panted. "You're ..."

Hard. Merry was not sure how he was able to blush, given the current 
location of what felt like most of his blood, but he could feel the heat 
rising to his cheeks and ears. "Of course I am," he snapped, rushing to 
cover himself with a corner of the sheet. "You're all over me, you great 
lump. Lie down, and we'll go back to sleep." Or you can go back to sleep, 
he thought, wretchedly, and I can lie here and go mad with wanting you, 
you merciless sprite. If only Pip weren't so handsome, with his newly 
angular body and his muscles of only a summer or two.

But Pippin was not lying down. His wide eyes fixed on Merry's, he 
reached down and touched his older cousin. There. Deliberately. Through 
the linen of his nightshirt. Merry opened his mouth to let out a squeal of 
indignation, but the sound that came out was a ragged acknowledgement 
of the way Pippin was making him feel. The way Pippin constantly made 
him feel, these days.

"So that's what that sound means," Pippin murmured. Even in the dim 
light, Merry could see awe and recognition wash over his face. "That's 
what Sam and Frodo are doing. Merry, why didn't you tell me? They're 
f...mmph!" His last word was interrupted as Merry, mortified, clapped a 
hand over his mouth, shushing him. As if to bolster Pippin's argument, a 
stifled scream of pleasure wafted over from next door.

With Pippin silenced, Merry felt a sense of control, but it was short-lived. 
Despite his recent embarrassment, he felt himself stiffening again, and 
realized with a rush that it was due to Pippin's hot breath against his 
trembling hand. Guilt rose in him like a spring flood, and he took his hand 
away.

"Sweet Eru's cat," Merry whispered, his brow furrowing. "Yes, that's what 
they're doing. Glory, Pip, when you touch yourself - I mean, you do, you 
must, everyone does - don't you make noise?"

"Yes." Pippin began picking at the sheet. "But not that noise."

"Well, what then?" Merry knew his own shyness was manifesting itself as 
exasperation, but he couldn't help it.

"I say your name, Merry." The world careened sideways as hope and fear 
flared in Merry's chest. He knew that his jaw was dropping loose on its 
hinges, but he could no longer remember how to draw it back up. His gaze 
dropped lower too, and in the back of his mind, he wondered how long 
Pippin had been ... this aroused. His heart pounding, Merry drew his eyes 
back to Pippin's face.

Pippin looked away, balled his hands up in the sheet, then lifted his eyes to 
his captive's face. "I say your name," he repeated, his gaze steadier than 
his voice. "And I keep saying it."

Merry was trying to think of another way to interpret what his cousin had 
said, when Pippin reiterated: "Over and over. Until I'm done."

Something in Merry caught fire. He wanted nothing more at that moment 
for Pippin to knock him down and take him, and by the look of things, 
Pippin was well on his way. With giddy excitement, Merry realized that 
Pippin was leaning down to kiss him, and what's more, he was pinning 
Merry to the bed, his arousal digging into Merry's thigh as did so. "Please, 
yes," thought the one being pinned, and another moan escaped his lips.

The affirmation was all-purpose: there were so many things that deserved 
Merry's assent that he wasn't sure what to agree to first. Pippin's clever, 
wet tongue courting his own. The sharpness of Pippin's hips - inexplicable, 
really, given his frequent enjoyment of Third or even Fourth Breakfast - 
grinding against him. The scent of him, all woods and musk and want and 
amorous hobbit. Pippin's desire and roughness and insistence. Merry had 
longed for these things, and now that they were enveloping him, his mind 
and body pulsed with carnal gratitude.

Wait. No.

Merry cradled Pip's face in both hands and raised it. Pippin was flushed, 
his lips already swollen with kissing. "Poppet, no," Merry managed.

"Why?" Pippin's voice was soft with hurt. "Don't you want me?" He 
slumped off of Merry and onto the bed, where he curled up, still facing his 
cousin, into a disconsolate bundle.

"That's not the point," said Merry, fidgeting with the sheet. "It's just that ... 
you're ... " The only one I've ever wanted. The exasperating love of my 
brief life. "You're so young," Merry amended. It was odd that he could 
still feel the heat coming off his bedmate's body now that he was a foot 
away. Apologetic, Merry reached out to stroke the slighter hobbit's face.

"I'm old enough," Pippin pointed out, "to rub myself raw over the thought 
of you. Merry. Please. Don't make me beg for this."

In some corner of his mind, Merry knew that Pippin already was begging 
for it, and his own sense of responsibility was shuddering under the strain. 
He swallowed hard. "Sweetheart, you're my cousin. You're eight years 
younger than me. I'm supposed to take care of you. It wasn't five years ago 
that you were still running around with dirty knees and a bucket of 
tadpoles."

Pippin cuffed him in the arm, hard. "Merriadoc Brandybuck, do you see a 
bucket of tadpoles anywhere near here?"

"I'm not going to argue with you about this," sighed Merry. "And I'm not 
going to take advantage of you, either." Advantage. Pip writhing under 
him in the moonlight, his body wracked with need. It did seem like an 
advantageous scenario, and Merry tried desperately to push it out of his 
mind. "We can't do this. Maybe when you're a little older, if you still want 
to..." Not that you will, thought Merry, scrunching his eyes shut. You'll 
have a lass on each arm and one on each leg besides. You only want me 
now because you're brimming with hormones and haven't discovered girls 
yet. Whereas I want ...

"'We can't do this,'" Pippin repeated. His jade eyes flashed with 
frustration, and Merry realized that Pippin was only echoing him, not 
agreeing. "That's what I thought too: that we couldn't, because we're both 
lads. But I'm not as naive as you think I am. Just because I don't shriek 
like a banshee doesn't mean I haven't been with the lasses behind 
Odovacar's barn a time or two."

"So you /do/ like girls." Merry tried to be glad for his cousin, destined for 
a life of comfortable normality, but only succeeded in wanting to 
disembowl himself with the fireplace implements.

"Shut up," said Pippin. "I thought of you every time. I even thought of 
ways for two lads to, you know, please each other. I just didn't think that 
males ever would, or did, so I kept silent and let you be. But now I see - I 
hear - that lads do give each other that sort of ... comfort. And that means 
that I could touch you, Merry, the way I want to. I could /love/ you the 
way I want to." He stroked Merry's cheek with a shaking hand. "But you 
have to let me."

Merry wanted to draw Pippin close to him and kiss him again, but 
something the shape and color of fear rose in his throat. He stared at 
Pippin, caught his breath, and the moment passed.

Pippin tossed his head slowly as if emerging from a dream. "I see. You 
don't want ... this." He indicated his body with a distracted wave. "You see 
me as a twelve-year-old Shireling covered in frog-spawn and mud."

"Pip," Merry ventured. He had seen pain in his younger cousin's face, and 
it was making it difficult to think. "Please, now. You don't understand. 
Let's talk about this ..."

"I do understand, and there's no point in discussing it. I'm going to sleep." 
And with that, Pippin rolled over to face the wall, taking most of the sheet 
with him.

Merry reached out to rub Pippin's back, but the would-be slumberer was 
having none of it. "Sleep," he said. "We'll talk in the morning." And 
within five minutes, he had taken his own advice, his gentle snores serving 
as a counterpoint to the rhythmic cries of their host.

*******

Dawn light filtered in through the window, and Merry woke, one of his 
arms wrapped around Pippin's waist. "Did we?" he wondered.

To Merry's regret, an insistent ache between his legs told him that they 
had not. In fact, he remembered Pippin utterly bewitching him, then 
rolling over in a huff, probably never to let Merry touch him again. Except 
during sleep, perhaps. Because Merry was touching him now. Not only 
was Merry's arm pressed against his midriff, but Merry's wakeful cock 
was pressed against his backside, with only a single layer of nightshirt in 
between.

"I have to get out of this bed," Merry thought. Pippin's skin felt heavenly 
and dangerous, like a dive from the cliffs along the Brandywine. Merry 
was not sure that just holding his bedmate would bring him to climax, but 
he wasn't sure that it wouldn't, either. And the last thing Merry needed was 
for Pip to be wet and sticky and crosser than ever. Groaning with misery 
and desire, Merry eased himself out from between the sheets and onto the 
floor. Pippin grunted in protest as he left, but was otherwise still.

The only place with any privacy at Bag End was the privy, and Merry was 
anxious to get there. If he could spend a few minutes by himself, 
meditating on the charms of certain chestnut-haired hobbit, maybe he 
could find the release denied to him these past few days. Once he had a 
clear head, he could try to make things up to Pippin. With these objectives 
in mind, he walked out of the bedroom and almost into Frodo.

"Couldn't sleep?" asked Frodo. "Me neither. Come to the kitchen and I'll 
make us some tea."

Defeated, Merry consented to be led to the other end of the smial, where 
Frodo began to bustle around with the teacups. "I'll have to stroke myself 
off into one of them when he's not looking," Merry thought, grimly. He 
slumped down at the kitchen table and helped himself to a handful of 
shelled walnuts.

Frodo put the water on to boil and returned to sit next to his cousin. 
"What's wrong?" he asked, eyeing Merry. "You look like death and 
vinegar."

"Pippin. Last night. He wanted to sleep with me."

"He did sleep with you," remarked Frodo.

"No, I mean the other sort of sleeping. The sort with your eyes open. That 
sort." Merry tried to rein in his brain, which was currently exploring 
whether Pippin might not close his eyes for that sort of sleeping too.

Frodo was quiet for a moment, his mouth agape. "What did you do?"

"I brushed him off."

Frodo laughed. "Right. Of course. Best to save yourself for the wedding 
night." Merry rewarded him with a kick in the ankle.

"Shut it. I turned him down. I really did."

Frodo was staring at Merry as though grass were sprouting out of his ears. 
"Sweet Eru, you're serious. Merry, why? Half of Middle Earth has seen the 
way you look at him."

"He's young," said Merry. Now he wished grass were growing out of his 
ears. At least then the space between them would be serving some 
purpose. Lately it hadn't seemed fit even to hold sod.

"Yes, and so are you. You won't come of age for another seven years yet. 
Don't pretend you're Gandalf's maiden aunt."

Merry frowned. "He's also my cousin."

"And who do you know who isn't your cousin? Besides the wizard and 
that dwarf friend of Bilbo's who used to come around." It was true: Shire 
kinship bonds were numerous and complex. "I mean, come on. It's not as 
if he's your brother." Frodo grimaced at the thought.

"Or my servant," said Merry.

Frodo shot Merry a dark look.

"I'm sorry," Merry sighed. "I think I'm jealous. Sam loves you. He'd die 
for you. Anyone can see that. But Pippin ... I don't think he's old enough to 
know his own mind. He's just ... he's at that age where there's something 
that he wants, and I'm around, so he thinks it's me."

Frodo's eyes were serious. "It is you."

"No, it's not. It's just that we spent the night next door to the two of you, 
and it ... it put ideas in his head."

Frodo dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "His head was full of 
ideas when he got here. I saw his nightshirt on the floor when I popped my 
head in to say 'goodnight.' Why do you suppose he wears it around the 
hole half the night, then takes it off to sleep with you?"

Merry hunched his shoulders. "I give off a lot of heat."

Frodo snorted. "I'll bet." On the stove, the kettle began to whistle.

"You great pervert," retorted his cousin. "I'm not the one who spent the 
night yowling like a tomcat in spring. 'Sam, dear, touch me there.' 'Sam, 
dear, put your mouth on me.' 'Sam, dear, put on that orc costume, and we'll 
...'" The kettle shrieked, then stilled, as though someone had picked it up.

"Perhaps after breakfast, Mr. Merry," said a dry voice behind him. Merry 
almost fell out of his chair. "This one here is only half Brandybuck, and he 
just about wore me out. Old Sam needs time to recover."

"If you take his meaning," said Frodo, smiling at the compliment.

Blushing, Merry pulled back from the table enough to allow Sam to pour 
the hot water into his teacup. Next, Sam tended to Frodo, supplying him 
with water and a kiss on the top of his curly head. As Sam turned to bring 
the kettle back to the stove, Frodo gave his beloved an affectionate swat 
on the behind. Merry felt his heart catch. In the smial, at least, they made 
no effort to keep their hands off each other, and it was a luxury Merry 
longed for.

"We've been discussing Pippin's nightshirt," announced Frodo. "It doesn't 
seem to be getting much use."

Merry poked at his tea with a spoon. "Leave it. It's summer. He doesn't 
wear it in the summer."

"He doesn't wear it," Frodo replied, "when he's sleeping with you. With 
me, he wears it."

Merry was so busy glaring that he let go of the spoon. It dropped into the 
cup with a resounding splash. "When, exactly, does he sleep with you?"

"Calm down. He slept with me three weeks ago when Sam went to visit 
his sister. There was a thunderstorm, and Pippin refused to sleep alone. 
And he definitely wore a nightshirt."

"Aye," Sam put in, "and if he'd known what a rascal you are, he'd 'a worn 
two."

Frodo ignored this last remark. "Merry, Pippin loves you. He follows you 
around as if you were pie on legs. You're all he ever talks about."

"It's true," said Sam, "Make no mistake. He sets his eyes on you and they 
light up like dry pine in a bonfire."

"Do you think so?" asked Merry. He rubbed his forehead with his hands. 
"Because I don't want to be wrong about this. I mean, I know he was 
interested last night, but I'm not sure how long his interest will last. I don't 
want to scare him, and I don't want to hurt him." Pippin was so precious, 
so impetuous and sweet.

Frodo shook his head. "You already have."

Merry could have bitten himself for not thinking of that sooner. Pip had 
tried to start something with him, and he had been too stupid to respond in 
kind. Now Pip was all alone in the guest room, probably thinking that 
Merry's absence was another rejection. "I've got to talk to him," he said, 
starting up from the table.

Frodo cast his lover a meaningful look. "Sam, I think we ought to get 
some air. We could go down to the blackberry patch. Say, for a couple of 
hours."

"Yes, sir." Sam began emptying a bowl of pears into his pockets for the 
journey, then looked to their guest. "Begging your pardon, Mr. Merry, but 
you'll be all right without us?"

"Yes, thank you, Sam," said Merry. "And you, Frodo."

"Hush," said Frodo, tugging Sam toward the door. "Just take your time, be 
nice to him, and don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Sam turned to roll his eyes at Frodo's kinsman. "That won't narrow your 
options none, Mr. Merry. There's nowt this one won't do. I've checked." 
He indicated his master with a toss of his blond head.

"Keep looking," said Frodo, giving Sam's ear a slow lick.

Merry groaned and covered his eyes. "Out, both of you. Now. Before you 
put me off completely." Then the two of them left, and Merry steeled 
himself for the long walk to the guestroom, as two cups of tea lay 
forgotten on the table.

*******

Merry rattled the door to the guest room, but it held fast. Must be the 
summer heat, he thought. It tended to swell the wood, make it sticky and 
intractable. Not unlike certain portions of his anatomy, these past few days 
with Pippin. He shook his head to clear away the image, then tried the 
door once more.

"Go away," said Pip.

It occurred to Merry that the problem with the door might have less to do 
with the summer heat than with the cast-iron dead bolt on the other side. 
"Pip, let me in."

"No."

"C'mon, now." He tried to sound affable. "You said we could talk in the 
morning."

"I changed my mind."

"I can get you some apples from the pantry." It was a crude tactic, holding 
Pip hostage to food, but one that had worked in the past.

"Don't want any."

"Pip!"

"Not hungry," said Pippin, sounding snuffly. "Go away."

Merry slumped against the door with a weary thump, then slid down to the 
floor, his head buzzing with thoughts of the night before. His intentions 
had been good, hadn't they? He hadn't meant to hurt anybody; he had 
meant to protect Pip from ... well, himself. Merry's own demanding body.

But honestly, Merry knew he had also wanted to protect himself from Pip. 
If Pip had given himself to Merry, and it had turned out to be some 
fleeting pre-tween fancy, Merry didn't think he could stand it. And so he 
hadn't accepted what was offered, even though it was what he wanted 
most. Merry cursed himself for a coward.

Inside, tentative footsteps began to pad across the floor. After a few 
hesitations, they reached the other side of the door, waiting.

"Pip-love, please." Merry was still hunched on the floor. "I'm sorry. Come 
out."

The door opened to reveal Pip, tear-streaked and wary. He had wrapped 
what had been the top sheet of the bed around his waist, and he held on to 
it with one hand. His mouth set in a line, he offered the other hand to 
Merry. Merry used the hand to pull himself up, grateful for that much 
welcome.

Now they were standing inches apart, close enough to... Not now, thought 
Merry. "May I come in?" he asked.

"If you want." Pippin headed toward the foot of the bed, then perched on 
the very edge. His hands fluttered in his lap like two small sparrows as 
Merry sat down beside him, but he didn't turn to look at his cousin.

"I'm sorry about what happened," Merry began.

"Which part?" spat Pippin.

Merry was taken aback by the force of the response. "What do you mean?"

Green eyes fixed Merry in a viper's stare. "Which part? When I put my 
tongue in your mouth? When I pinned you to the bed? When I told you 
how I feel about you? Which part of our evening inconvenienced you the 
most?"

"None of those things!"

"Then why did you stop me?"

"Because I'm an idiot! Because you scare the hell out of me!"

Pippin let out a bitter chuckle. "Yes, here I am, doom in a bedsheet. What 
did you think I was going to do, choke you with my spit?"

"I thought you were going make me love you. I already love you - stop 
snorting, you know I do - but I thought that if we went any further, you 
would own me, soul and ... and mouth ... and fingertips, and I would never 
be able to survive without you again. That I would be half a person 
without you."

Merry dropped his head, then raised it and touched his hand to Pippin's 
cheek. "But it's already like that. I am half a person without you. You have 
me, and there's nothing I can do. Except try to win you back and hope that 
eventually, things will be different. That you'll ... love me again." Merry 
saw his own beseeching face reflected in Pippin's pupils.

"You might have to wait a while," said Pippin, arms folded. He directed 
his gaze toward the window.

Merry touched his hand to his cousin's back. "I know."

"You might have to make some concessions to me." Pippin's eyes were 
still dark, but his mouth no longer seemed so unforgiving.

"I intend to. Name them."

"You might have to kiss me. Slowly."

Merry pressed his lips to Pippin's. They were soft. Was all of his skin that 
soft? Pippin opened his mouth to Merry, and for some time, Merry 
explored it, gently, thoroughly, with his tongue. Despite Pippin's 
sternness, his mouth was warm and inviting, and Merry felt his nerve 
endings prickling from the contact.

"Do you love me yet?" he asked.

"Haven't decided. Take off your nightshirt."

"Pippin!"

Pippin ran a finger over the point of Merry's ear. "Do you want to win me 
back?"

"More than anything."

"Then you have to do what I say. Besides, weren't you worried about 
corrupting me? If I'm the one who's making the decisions, you don't have 
to worry."

Merry muttered skeptically, but began to unbutton his shirt. By the time he 
had reached the fourth button, Pippin was already tugging it over his head.

Pippin tossed the nightshirt to the floor. "Now do me," he said.

"What?" Merry felt a blush coming on.

"Undress me. Take my sheet off."

"Oh," said Merry. Pippin went to stand in the center of the room, and 
Merry followed. When Merry hesitated, Pippin grabbed his hands and 
placed them firmly on the sheet. Merry untucked one end of the sheet from 
Pippin's waist and began slowing circling him, unwinding the fabric until 
it came away in his grasp.

Although Merry had seen Pippin undress many times before, this new 
unveiling shook him. Pippin's body was ivory and mauve, like a snow 
bank pierced by crocuses. All the parts made sense together - the 
sharpness of the nose and chin repeated in the sharpness of the hipbones; 
the darkness of Pippin's hair set off by the paleness of his skin. Dazzled, 
Merry reached out to his cousin, but Pippin stepped back.

"Ah-ah-ah," chided the younger hobbit, waving a disapproving finger. 
"See how innocent I am. You wouldn't want to enslave me to your wicked 
desires."

"Wouldn't I, though," breathed Merry. He made another dive for Pippin, 
but the contrary sylph easily evaded him, coming to light by the window. 
Good thing the curtains were drawn, thought Merry, or everybody would 
want a go.

"Lie down on the bed," ordered Pippin. Merry took a step closer to him.

"If you come any closer," said Pippin, "I'm getting dressed. Now lie down 
on the bed. On your side. Facing the wall."

"Is this something you did with the lasses?" stammered Merry.

"No. This is something I invented for you."

Merry sputtered, then complied. The remaining sheet felt cool against his 
bare skin. Behind him, he heard Pippin rustling through his knapsack. The 
minutes ambled by.

"What are you doing?" Merry asked, unevenly.

"Deciding what to do with a very impatient hobbit."

Merry felt himself stiffening at the idea. Still, he wanted Pip in bed with 
him. Immediately. "Is it going to take a long time?"

"It's going to take longer if you keep asking questions."

All thoughts of continuing the conversation fled Merry's mind. He listened 
to his heart beat out its iambic rhythm against his ribcage: two syllables at 
a time, like Pippin's name. Then he heard Pippin's feet moving quietly 
across the floor. They stopped about a foot from the bed. As usual, Merry 
was so aware of the direction of Pippin's breathing that he could tell when 
Pippin's head made a slow sweep from the top of the bed to the foot. 
Merry's captor had him naked and horizontal, and now he was looking him 
over. Aroused and on edge, Merry held his breath, waiting for whatever 
Pip would do to him next.

The bed creaked as Pippin lay down behind Merry. Based on the way the 
bed was curving, Merry was sure that they would be nestled together like a 
chestnut and its shell if it weren't for the fact that Pip was intentionally 
keeping about half an inch of space between them. He considered scooting 
backward to close the distance, but decided to let Pip continue to take his 
time.

It was a good decision. Pippin wrapped an arm around Merry's waist, 
caressing him. Merry felt hot breath against the back of his neck, then the 
tightening of a forearm pulling him backwards. Merry gasped as he felt 
Pippin's hardness against his backside.

"Fair's fair," murmured Pip. "You were pressed against me all night."

"You felt that?" asked Merry, abashed.

Pippin laughed. "It was either you or one of Bilbo's dwarven pokers."

"If you don't like it, don't sleep nude," protested Merry. "You've been 
driving me to distraction."

"Of course, that's all in the past," said Pippin, reaching up to skim his 
fingers over one of Merry's nipples.

"No, it's not. You're driving me to distraction /now/. Sweetheart, please..."

"Courtesy works wonders," said Pip. He let go of Merry for a moment. 
Merry heard Pippin fumbling with something on the floor - a flask? - and 
then Pippin was behind him again. There was a smell of something heavy 
and fragrant - almonds, maybe.

"Merry, do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Do you want me?"

Merry's hips began to twitch. "Yes, love, I want you."

"Then let me do this for you." Merry was nervous. True to his word, 
Pippin had proven more experienced than the older hobbit had thought. It 
was entirely possible that Merry was about to be fucked into the wall, and 
while he wanted that to happen with Pippin eventually, he wasn't sure he 
was ready for it at the moment. He was debating that point when Pippin 
reached around to encircle the his cousin's shaft with one slippery hand.

Merry felt that his heart would burst, and that his cock would not be far 
behind. Pippin's hand was slick and tight, and it was stroking him as if it 
had been crafted for the purpose. His back a perfect arch, Merry moaned 
his lover's name.

"You like this," purred Pippin. "Do you ever think about me touching you, 
Merry?"

"Oh yes," Merry admitted, thrusting into Pip's hand. His hips seemed to 
have a will of their own. Sometimes they lurched forward, guiding him 
into Pippin's insistent fist, and sometimes they reeled backwards, where 
Pippin's cock lay waiting. Pip was enticing him from both sides, and 
Merry felt that he would not last long.

Pippin had been pumping furiously, but now he slackened the pace. "Tell 
me what I do in these thoughts of yours," he coaxed. He began caressing 
the head of Merry's cock in a way that was both a pleasure and a torment 
for the one being caressed.

"Tease of a Took!" gasped Merry. "Why do you want to know?"

"Teasing is when I'm not going to give you what you want. /This/ is 
foreplay. Tell me."

"Gah," Merry whimpered.

The head of Merry's cock was now protruding from the looser folds of 
skin, and Pippin ran his thumb carelessly over the slit. Merry was slippery 
there, not only from the almond oil, but also from the few drops of pearly 
desire that had leaked from him under Pippin's care. The younger hobbit 
withdrew his hand, and it disappeared from Merry's view. Maddeningly, 
Merry thought he could hear his cousin licking his thumb.

Merry surrendered. "I think about you," he said. "You're so beautiful it 
hurts, and you reach between my legs, and it's all I can do not to melt 
where you're touching me." Pippin placed his hand on Merry's shaft, 
waiting.

Merry swallowed hard. "Your skin on me ... it's so good, and I want you 
everywhere ... Now you're grasping my shaft in your hand, then moving 
your hand up and down ... yes, unnh, like that, but harder." Pippin's whole 
body was pressed tightly against him from behind, and the things Pippin 
was doing with his hand were intimate and sweet.

"Like this?" asked Pippin.

"Yes," panted Merry. "And when your hand comes up, the side of your 
index finger makes contact with the underside of ... ahh ... the head, where 
I'm really ... oh, please ... sensitive." Merry let out a strangled cry.

"Is that so?" Pippin began grinding his hips against Merry's backside, 
continuing to stroke as he did so.

"But mostly I'm just excited because it's you doing it ... mmmhh ... I love 
you so much ... The sight of you makes me rigid ... The feel of you ... ahhh 
... unhinges me ..."

"When do you get to feel me?" laughed Pippin. "Other than now, I mean?"

"Not as often ... as I'd like ... yes, like that ... When you rode in front of me 
... on the pony ... on the way over here ... and I had to hang on to you ... I 
thought I'd come ... all over your back ..."

"Then," said Pippin, gently, "why don't you come for me now?"

"Gah," said Merry. "You've ... convinced me ... " And now the sexual 
energy Pippin had been cultivating in his lover began to seek an escape 
route from Merry's taut and trembling body. He could feel the energy 
working its way inexorably up him - first curling his toes, then making his 
calves shake; working his thighs, clenching his buttocks; until Merry was 
nothing but its conduit, and there was only Merry, the energy, and Pippin's 
sweet hand, which took him and claimed him and owned him, until Merry 
shuddered and rocked and sobbed Pippin's name.

When Merry came back to himself, Pippin was holding him close and 
kissing the back of his neck. Merry rolled over to face his cousin, then 
took him in his arms. "That was wonderful. The way you touch me ..." An 
aftershock shook him, and he gasped.

"It was my pleasure," said Pippin. He traced Merry's pointed ear with one 
finger and smiled.

"Speaking of which," said Merry. He maneuvered Pippin onto his back 
and rolled on top of him, catching Pippin's legs between his own.

"You're not going to seduce me, are you? I'm telling you, I'm extremely 
young. Not to mention chaste." Pippin bounced his hips for emphasis.

"I'm not going to ... bed you now, if that's what you mean."

Pippin glared. "Why not?" Merry felt a pillow make a rough landing 
between his shoulder blades.

Merry sighed. "That's something I'd like us to do when we have hours and 
hours to ourselves, not when Frodo and Sam are liable to turn up in the 
middle of it, looking to join in. But there are other things I could do, if you 
don't mind lying still for a bit."

Merry raised himself up on all fours above his cousin and waited for the 
answer. Pippin's lips were parted, and his thighs moved to follow suit. His 
eyes were huge and dark.

"Do them," said Pippin. He looked wanton and ready. Merry had never 
seen anything more breathtaking in his life.

They began with kissing. Pippin was already panting, and Merry's tongue 
encountered no resistance. When Pippin's tongue began to flirt with his, 
Merry was surprised to discover that long-estranged parts of his own body 
were having conversations with each other. He had known that it would be 
distracting to be inside his cousin, even if only mouths were involved, but 
having Pippin reciprocate was enough to send shivers up the back of his 
thighs.

Suddenly, Pippin tilted his head back, his eyes half-lidded with lust. The 
gesture drew attention to his white throat, and his lover pressed his mouth 
to it in a hard, needy kiss. Pippin's resulting groan vibrated against Merry's 
lips.

"I thought you didn't make that noise," teased Merry.

"It's ... good," Pippin stammered. "Help me make it again." He closed his 
eyes and turned his head, offering one side of his neck. Feeling possessive, 
Merry bit him there, hard enough to leave a mark. Pippin cried out, his 
cries turning to murmurs as Merry soothed the area with his tongue.

Merry regretted that there wasn't more time. It was difficult to be this 
close to his cousin and not press into him. Everything about the younger 
hobbit stirred Merry: the tremble of his thighs brushing up against the 
insides of Merry's legs; the throb of his pulse quickening against Merry's 
lips; the flutter of his eyes closing whenever he expected Merry to do 
something especially forward to him. Merry hoped to become much more 
forward with his cousin, and soon, but he felt it best to go slowly this first 
time. Even, he thought wryly, if Pippin hadn't.

Merry moved further up the bed. Now his mouth was against Pippin's ear, 
and he caught it gently with his teeth. Pippin writhed and shuddered as 
Merry insinuated his tongue along the inside of the shell. Pippin groaned 
in supplication.

Merry brushed a wayward curl from the slighter hobbit's cheek. "Yes, 
love?"

"Your mouth," Pippin breathed, arching his back.

"Where would you like it?" Merry ran his tongue along Pip's collarbone.

"Lower," Pip gasped.

"How much lower?" Merry wanted to know. He began licking his way 
down Pippin's body. He paused to breathe on a nipple, then took it into his 
mouth. It hardened instantly against his tongue.

Pippin squirmed. "Lower than that!"

"Glad to obey," said Merry. He moved downward. The lower he went, the 
more he caught the scent of his lover, seductive and dark. It made restraint 
difficult. Still, he was willing to draw things out if it would increase 
Pippin's pleasure later. He flicked Pippin's navel with his tongue, then 
rested his cheek in Pip's belly fur.

Merry studied Pippin's cock. It was much like his own, but longer and 
thinner. Pippin was flushed rose and completely stiff - stiff, Merry 
realized, with wanting him.

"Now," moaned Pippin. "Or I'll grab you by the ears and put you there 
myself."

Merry bent his mouth to Pippin, taking him in. Merry's teasing had had an 
effect: the head tasted salty. Merry lavished his tongue upon it, looking for 
the places that would please Pip most. Merry felt Pippin's hands twining in 
his hair, heard his cries, felt him thrusting into his mouth. Pippin's 
passions were fully wakened, and the scent coming off him was delicious 
and indecent. One could put that musk on almost anything, the older 
hobbit decided, and he, Merry, would want to thrust into it.

The licking and sucking continued as Merry reached his hand down to cup 
Pippin's balls. They were tight and seed-heavy. Merry stroked them, then 
moved his other hand up and down Pippin's shaft, his mouth still working 
at the head.

Pippin began bucking his hips. "Merry," he pleaded. "Merry, Merry, 
Merry ..." Merry felt Pippin grab his shoulders, then plunge into him again 
and again, coupling with his open mouth.

"It's taking me," gasped Pippin. "The pleasure's taking me ..." He cried out 
and pressed his body up to meet his cousin's. Merry's throat was flooded 
with seed as Pippin poured into him, writhing and moaning.

"So good," murmured Merry, collapsing into the younger hobbit's arms. 
"I'm ready for second breakfast."

"You're not getting seconds! You've sucked me dry." Pippin shivered and 
snuggled in closer.

"Mmm," said Merry. "I suppose so. Those were some noises you made, 
Pip-love. But then, your great-grandmother was a Baggins."

"Merry," Pip whispered, "I love you."

"Did you ever stop?" asked Merry. He pressed a kiss along Pip's jaw.

"No," Pippin admitted. "Never."

They held each other for a few moments, then Merry slapped his forehead. 
"You must be starved. Get up with me, and I'll make you some pancakes."

Pippin smiled. "Still taking care of me?"

"As much as you'll let me."

"Pancakes later," said Pippin. "I want you to hold me some more."

And Merry did.