The fire crackled, and Merry watched it idly, his hand stroking
just as idly through Pippin's hair. It was a busy winter after a laborious
fall, so one might think he and Pippin would be in bed making up for
lost time, but this evening, by some unspoken agreement, they sat in
the parlor, watching the fire and just being together.
"So, which did you like better?" Pippin asked.
Merry blinked, only slowly hearing Pippin's voice, his question. "Well?"
Pippin demanded impatiently.
"Which what?" Merry replied, confused, and Pippin
smiled up at him, obviously pitying his befuddled elder cousin. "Boromir
and Faramir, Merry. Which of them are you fonder of?"
"Pippin." Merry rolled his eyes. "They
aren't pies."
"No, they are Men, and brothers, and both dear to us,
and I was just thinking of them, and trying to decide which I was fonder
of, so I thought I would ask you." Pippin sat up, draping himself
on Merry's shoulder. "I think I know your answer, though,"
he went on, voice much softer.
Merry nodded, his mind full of memories of deep laughter
and sword practice and impossibly broad shoulders. "Boromir."
"He's not sleeping, Pippin." Merry leaned close
to whisper in Pippin's ear. "I think not, at any rate."
"Not sleeping? But Lórien is so fair and restful! I
could almost forget here, how we came here--" Pippin's voice cracked
at that, as he remembered, but he swallowed and spoke lightly in the
next moment. "Even Frodo looks better. Even Sam looks
better. Even Strider doesn't look grim anymore."
"Strider---Aragorn---is used to Elves, I think. Boromir
isn't. And there's something else, I don't know what, but...at any rate,
he's not sleeping. I can see the dark rings under his eyes."
"Well, you know what always puts me to sleep,"
said Pippin wickedly, his green eyes sparkling. Merry felt a brief flurry
of caution---he said he wants to be alone he hasn't even slept with
us since we got here---before the mischief in Pippin's eyes dispatched
Merry's sense with one well-placed hit to his desire, and he found himself
grinning back. "Yes, and you always snore afterwards," Merry
agreed, and dashed out of Pippin's reach; Pippin whooped and gave chase.
Merry ran to where he knew Boromir was sitting alone behind
one of the mighty trees of Lórien, abstractedly cleaning an already
shining dagger. "Boromir! Boromir! Help!" he cried, making
sure his voice had enough laughter in it, so that Boromir's quick look
of alarm faded into amusement as he sheathed his dagger and swept Merry
up in one arm. "Pippin's after me!"
"Can you not handle your young cousin, Meriadoc?"
Boromir replied, looking gratifyingly pleased to see them as he swung
Merry up onto his shoulders and Pippin attacked his legs.
"He fights dirty!" Merry replied, wrapping himself
around Boromir's shoulders, as Pippin made a good show of trying to
climb Boromir like a tree. "I do not!" Pippin protested, before
gales of laughter came over him; Boromir sat back down, Merry and Pippin
clambering all over him, and the three of them laughed together. "Boromir,
we're going to explore," Pippin said, looking up from Boromir's
chest. "Come with us?"
"Ah, Merry, Pippin, I'm weary today." Boromir indeed
did look weary, rubbing one hand over his eyes. "Thank you, though---"
"Then we can explore right here," Merry said, more
softly, as he began licking the ear he was speaking into, just as Pippin
pulled himself up to Boromir's other ear. This was an old trick of theirs,
winding themselves simultaneously around someone; it worked charmingly
on hobbit lads and lasses alike. Their first time with Boromir Merry
had wondered, deep in the cautious corner of his mind, whether it would
work on someone as large as a Man, but apparently speaking peoples weren't
so different from each other after all.
Boromir froze, unable to pull away from one hobbit without
pressing into the other, as Pippin wound arms and legs around his chest
and Merry leaned down from his shoulders and they attacked his ears
and cheeks and jaw with lips and tongues. Beneath his apparent cheerful
seductiveness, Merry was holding his breath; now was when Boromir would
pull them off and laugh at them and send them on their way, as he had
twice before, or when he would relax into their four arms and four legs
and let them explore him and please him and soothe him, as he had thrice.
He sat for a long moment, arms tight and still, one hand on Merry's
back and one around Pippin's waist, eyelids slowly drooping; then he
sighed, and even though he asked, "my lads, do you know what you
do?" the huskiness in that strong voice told Merry he wouldn't
be pulling them off.
Pippin made an affirmative noise, unwilling to untuck his
head from Boromir's neck; Boromir jumped with a small gasp, and Merry
could tell that Pippin had bitten him. "Of course we do,"
Merry said, keeping his voice light. "You're our friend, and you
know we find you handsome, and we're finally someplace safe and cosy.
Unless you'd rather an elven maiden---"
Boromir laughed at that, more bitterly than Merry would have
liked, but his hand on Merry's back started to move, to caress. "Oh,
no, Merry. I would much rather you two, my comrades." Merry's heart
hurt sweetly at that, and he kissed his way across the expanse of Boromir's
jaw---so broad, fringed with a delightfully prickly beard---to reach
his mouth.
Every time, it amazed Merry how much larger Boromir's mouth
was than his own. A disorienting memory came to him, of being kissed
by a very young Pippin who had just declared that when he was grown
he would marry Merry. This was the flip side of that, Merry's mouth
landing in the middle of Boromir's wider one; Boromir, too, felt the
difference, as Merry felt him gasp again, and then bring his lips together
around Merry's bottom lip, warm and enveloping. Merry wriggled closer,
hooking his arm round Boromir's neck, rubbing his cheek against his
beard, and kissed Boromir firmly until those warm large lips rose to
meet his and move over his, until Boromir was holding him securely with
one hand as he returned the kiss. Boromir returned the kiss warmly,
then assertively, then hotly, his tongue large and lively in Merry's
mouth.
"Hoy, give me a turn!" Pippin objected, and Merry
lifted his head to laugh, and found he was sideways to them. Boromir
turned, looking surprised, and his head rocked back as Pippin flung
himself at him; Merry chuckled as he climbed down, Boromir absently
helping him with one hand as the other sank into Pippin's chestnut curls.
Merry slid down Boromir's broad chest, got his feet beneath him, and
stood up, his mouth now level with the top of Boromir's head; winding
himself again around Boromir, that massively strong arm curving round
his body, he watched Boromir being roused by Pippin's kisses till he
was roused to aggressiveness, his mouth covering Pippin's, his arm crushing
Pippin to his side. Pippin twined his arms round Boromir's neck and
squirmed against him and moaned that 'oh yes do that some more' moan
of his.
Boromir didn't know Pippin as well as Merry did, however,
so when Pippin moaned Merry saw Boromir blink, and then loosen his grip
on Pippin, pulling his head up. Merry chuckled as Pippin gasped in surprise,
his whole face suffused with indignation as his eyes fluttered open.
"Why'd you stop?" Pippin demanded, and Merry stuffed one hand
into his mouth as he laughed.
"I thought I crushed you--" Boromir began, and
Merry unstuffed his hand and managed to force his voice to words. "Pip
likes being crushed," Merry informed Boromir, waggling his eyebrows,
enjoying the way Boromir's grey eyes twinkled as he caught on. "Ah,
then," Boromir said, indeed delightfully crushing both hobbits
close again, "where are we?"
"Wearing too much," Merry replied, his mouth on
Boromir's neck, tongue tracing the pulsing vessel; he wondered where
Pippin's bite was, how Boromir would look with matching bites on either
side of his collar. Boromir moaned deep and rumbling in his chest when
Merry did bite him and Pippin nipped at his ear again, before gently
tugging his hands free to pull off his corselet; Merry and Pippin both
noticed the loss of the encircling arms, and glanced at each other,
and started on Boromir's clothes, Merry undoing the clasps on his tunic
while Pippin attacked the lacings of his breeches. "You two,"
Boromir said and laughed, reaching up to cup Merry's face and down to
stroke Pippin's curls, and Merry kissed one of Boromir's eyes as he
pulled the tunic open. Boromir pulled him down gently to kiss his mouth,
warm and encompassing as before; then Pippin gasped dramatically, and
when Merry turned to look he was treated to the wonderfully unusual
sight of Boromir blushing as Pippin cried, "Oh, Merry, look at
this! I can't get my hands round it!"
"Lawks, Pippin, must you say that every time?"
Merry chided, though he couldn't help laughing at Boromir's ruddy blush.
Pippin merely waggled his eyebrows and started licking the head, pink
tongue leaving streaks of shining moisture, and all Boromir could do
was groan. Merry grinned, thinking that's it, Pip, delighted
to feel their mighty friend quivering in their arms, as he ran his hands
through the hair on Boromir's chest and kissed him again; Boromir slid
one rough-gentle hand down over Merry's rump and up beneath his tunic,
hot and broad on Merry's skin. "What of your clothes?"
he asked, running his tongue with surprising delicacy up over the point
of Merry's ear; Merry opened his mouth to reply, but moaned instead
as Boromir fastened his whole mouth over that ear, wet and hot, his
tongue caressing the curves like a wet boneless finger. All his blood
catching fire, Merry's knees buckled so that only Boromir's arm held
him upright.
"Merry, you look like a lit candle," Pippin observed,
giving Boromir's prick a last fond lick before he got up on his knees
and started unlacing his tunic, "bright on top and melty below."
Merry weakly made a rude gesture as he got his feet beneath him; Pippin
squeaked, dropping his tunic, as Boromir pulled him up to engulf his
ear, and moaned and trembled, eyes closed, going just as boneless as
Merry had with the feeling. "Yes, Boromir, hold him like that,"
Merry said as he tugged Pippin's breeches and smalls off; Pippin pried
his eyes open and managed a faint, "hoy!" before Merry was
upon him, sucking him while he wrapped both hands around Boromir and
stroked.
"You two...."Boromir said in a deep choked voice,
watching Merry's head bob as he held a moaning, trembling Pippin, feeling
Merry's fingers stroking up and down, and Merry would have smiled if
he could, to have both of them like this. But then Boromir pulled Merry
up, too, which made Pippin quite indignant. "Don't stop him! That
was good!"
"Please let me make it up to you, Master Pippin,"
said Boromir cheerfully, if a bit breathlessly, getting them tucked
securely against his body, his hands caressing round their hips. Merry
got his breeches undone and off with shaking fingers, and Boromir wrapped
one hand round each of them, drawing an "Oh!" of heartfelt
forgiveness from Pippin.
"A good general should be able to conduct a battle on
two fronts at once," Boromir explained, and Merry chuckled breathlessly
and kissed the corner of his mouth; Boromir turned his head to kiss
Merry as Pippin's hands slid over Boromir's shoulder to find Merry's.
They squeezed, the one on Boromir's back holding on, the one on his
chest letting go to continue to roam; Boromir turned to kiss Pippin,
and Merry dropped his head to Boromir's shoulder and just felt Boromir's
hand rippling round him, the smallest finger hooked under his eggs to
stroke them so that he tingled with it.
So roused his eyelids were heavy, Merry watched them kiss,
Pippin's back arching as he trembled in the curve of Boromir's arm,
his hand tracing the muscles of Boromir's chest; Pippin's hand settled
on Boromir's nipple, rolling it between thumb and forefinger, and Boromir
growled low in his chest and tightened his arms round them both. That's
it, Pip, Merry thought again, as he turned his head to nip at Boromir's
collarbone and Boromir squeezed harder and oh, Merry could feel his
peak already building behind Boromir's fingers. He gasped something,
he didn't know what, and Pippin's other hand tightened round his as
Pippin moaned into Boromir's mouth and shook like a leaf and Merry knew
he was peaking, could feel it in his grip and hear it into his moan,
and just from knowing that Merry pressed his face to Boromir's neck
and peaked himself, clutching Pip's hand.
Boromir gently let the panting hobbits down into his lap,
leaning against him, hands still tangled behind his back. "Well,
my lads," he said proudly when he knew they could hear him again,
"how was that?"
Merry raised an eyebrow at Boromir's tone, then reached for
his breeches to fish out the handkerchief he knew he'd put there this
morning. "Lovely," he said as he gave Boromir the handkerchief,
"but..." Pippin caught Merry's eyes with his twinkling green
ones, and took up the thread with, "Yes, indeed, there's something
missing." Merry was hard put not to giggle; Boromir was nearly
glaring. "And what would that be?" he inquired gruffly.
"Why, Boromir, you must peak too," Pippin said,
wrapping his hands round Boromir's prick, which was half hard at the
moment. Boromir sucked in his breath and chuckled; Merry lent his hands
to Pippin's, and between the two of them it was soon standing straight
up again. "Where was I?" Pippin asked Merry, who replied,
"Not talking." Pippin made a face at Merry and set back to
licking the head again, which left Merry the shaft. There was plenty
for both of them, after all.
Boromir gasped. "You two will be the death of me,"
he said warmly, his fingers threading gently through two sets of curls.
Merry caught Pippin's eye, and they licked a path to each other and
kissed, open-mouthed, tasting Boromir on each other; then they began
chasing each other's tongues round the shaft, stroking whatever they
weren't licking at the moment. Pippin spiraled up, sliding the loose
skin up and down with the pressure of his lips alone; Merry slid downwards,
circling Boromir's shaft with his hands as he laved Boromir's eggs in
their musky-hot sac and Boromir growled with pleasure. Just as Merry
was wondering if he could get his mouth fully around one he felt Boromir's
prick twitch against his nose as a strangled gasp sounded from above;
Merry lifted his head to see Pippin working quite industriously at getting
his lips round the head, the rosebud mouth stretched wide, an oddly,
powerfully arousing sight. Thoughts chased each other through Merry's
mind, what a sight to see Pip do that and Boromir's shaking,
nearly undone, and as he watched Boromir jerked and groaned and
peaked.
Pippin was a moment too slow pulling back, and got quite
the faceful; Merry laughed so hard he had to lay his head down on Boromir's
thigh as Pippin spluttered and swiped at his face. "Merry, stop
rolling about and come up here and help me!" Pippin demanded as
Boromir sucked in a draught of air and laughed satedly; Merry got up
on his knees again, still giggling, and pressed a kiss to Boromir's
navel on his way. "Here," Boromir said warmly, passing Merry
the rather dilapidated handkerchief.
"Pippin, hold still or you'll get it in your hair,"
Merry said, pulling curls off Pippin's forehead to wipe his face off,
licking off the remnants, bitter warmth over the sweeter salt of Pippin's
skin. Pippin, sucking his hand clean, made noises that ranged between
annoyed to appreciative and back again as Merry carefully wiped and
licked him, brow and nose, cheeks and chin, leaving his mouth for last
to deliver a smacking kiss. "There."
"Thank you, Merry. Boromir, you near drowned me,"
Pippin said fondly; Boromir grinned, heavy-lidded, waving his hand in
vague apology. Merry tucked himself against Boromir's side, pulling
an arm round himself like a blanket; Pippin snuggled in on the other
side, and in heartbeats Boromir was sound asleep between them. Pippin
tugged Boromir's cloak up to where Merry could reach it, and they drew
it over Boromir and themselves; beneath it, Merry laid his hand over
Boromir's heart, feeling it beating slowly in the mighty chest, feeling
the bone and muscle and sinew beneath his hand, watching Boromir's face
relax in sleep until he almost looked young.
"Merry?" Pippin whispered. When Merry looked at
him, he plaintively added, "I'm hungry."
Merry snorted. "You're always hungry, Pippin. Go back
and have luncheon if you like. I'm staying with Boromir till he wakes."
Pippin considered this for a moment, looking at Boromir's
face, then at Merry's, and finally shook his head. "Some things
are better than luncheon," he said, quiet even for a whisper, and
laid his hand over Merry's hand, over Boromir's heart.
"That time in Lórien was lovely, wasn't it? But then,
Lórien was lovely." Pippin sighed, his arms round Merry's waist.
"Boromir was lovely."
"Yes, he was." The tone of Merry's voice made Pippin
glance at him; his face was dry, but his eyes glittered with tears,
and Pippin drew Merry's head onto his shoulder, stroking his hair. "I'm
sorry, Merry. I didn't mean to make you cry."
"I know, Pip. And I'm glad to remember him, even if
it does make me cry. Just as you are glad to remember Faramir."
Merry tilted his head back, grinning cheerfully despite his wet eyes,
and waggled his eyebrows to make Pippin blush. "Not that I mind
remembering him, either, though I'll never be able to face Éowyn again,
you wicked Took."
"Oh, you're glad I asked, and you know it." Pippin
laughed, and kissed Merry, and remembered.
"To the King and Queen!" they cheered in ragged
unison, and drank another toast. Faramir tilted his head back as he
drained his tankard; Pippin looked at his long strong neck, and flicked
his gaze to Merry in a silent question which made Merry's eyes and mouth
go round. Pippin nearly giggled; after all these years and all they'd
been through this past year, he could still shock his Merry, if he really
tried.
Not that that was why he'd asked, he thought, as he looked
up at Faramir again and Faramir smiled down at him, a wide sunny smile
so very different from the wistful ones he'd always worn before, well,
before the world changed. "What are you thinking, Pippin?"
Faramir asked, his arm going round Pippin, warm and strong.
"How happy you look," Pippin replied, nestling
into Faramir's side. There were ribs beneath the soft tunic, draped
with muscle but tangible; Pippin raised a hand to trace over them, and
Merry snorted and reached across Faramir for Pippin's wrist. "Peregrin
Took, you terrible flirt," Merry said reprovingly. "This Man
is your Captain, stop mauling him."
"Oh, I do not mind," said Faramir with tipsy cheer,
pulling Merry closer with his other arm; Merry looked scandalized, and
Pippin did giggle. "Yes, but Faramir, you're betrothed to my Lady
Éowyn," Merry pointed out, and Pippin understood his primness.
"Oh, Merry, is that what you're worrying about? I asked her!"
"You asked her?" cried Faramir; Merry
rolled his eyes, but smiled nevertheless, as his fingers sllipped from
Pippin's wrist to twine with Pippin's fingers. "Of course I did,
Faramir," Pippin said reasonably. "I saw Lady Éowyn once more
before she and King Éomer left; she thanked me for saving the life of
the Man she loved, and in so doing saving her own, and asked me what
boon she might grant me for it, so I plucked up my courage, as a Soldier
of Gondor of course, and told her that I had lain with you and I would
like to again if she would grant me leave. She laughed and said that
the Holbytla have hot blood---and I intend to ask you why she said that,
Meriadoc---and kissed my brow and gave me leave, and Merry with me."
Faramir blinked speechlessly and nodded; Merry was nearly
as red as the velvet drapes, but he was smiling. "You terrible
Took," he said warmly, pulling Pippin across Faramir's lap to kiss
him; they heard Faramir moan, just a little, as he watched them, sprawled
across his lap together, and Pippin knew Merry would have grinned if
he could. They did grin at each other when they broke the kiss, then
lunged upwards in unison.
Not that Faramir fought them, of course; he let them knock
him over on the bed, laughing as he fell. Pippin lay on Faramir's chest
and unlaced his tunic as he watched him kiss Merry, slowly stroking
his hand through fair curls. Merry kissed him carefully, still a little
unsure, and Pippin laughed. "I knew you two would like each other."
Faramir chuckled, pulling Pippin up as Merry let go his mouth
to pull his own tunic off. "Éowyn said that as well, but I did
not know this was part of what she meant."
"You'll just have to thank her, then," Pippin breathed
over Faramir's mouth before kissing him. There, that warm scratch of
beard, wide supple lips against Pippin's own; Faramir was almost too
gentle, but he was warm and strong and ample, and especially when one
won through that tight control, oh, he was magnificent. Pippin had done
so once so far, and remembered it well, and wanted more, wanted Merry
to help him and share in it with them.
Between kisses and wriggles and caresses and unbucklings,
the three of them soon found themselves naked and in the middle of the
bed, Merry between Faramir and Pippin. Pippin shifted back a bit to
watch as Faramir wrapped his long arms around Merry and kissed him deeply,
stroking him as if he were precious, which indeed he was. Used to being
wrapped up in Merry's embrace, to being wound so tightly with him they
could hardly tell where one left off and the other began, Pippin savored
the sight of Merry swathed in pleasure, of the way he looked with his
arms wound round Faramir's neck and his back arching as Faramir's large
capable hands traced lines of fire along his skin. Merry moaned, winding
his legs round Faramir's waist, and Pippin closed his eyes for a moment
as he felt that moan course hotly through him.
When he opened his eyes, two pairs of grey eyes were on him,
and Merry, flushed and smiling, had a hand out. Pippin took that hand
in his good one and squeezed it gently, reaching up with his other hand
to thread it into Faramir's long wavy hair as he leaned forward for
a kiss, chasing the larger tongue with his own in a way that he knew
would make Faramir laugh breathlessly as he drew back. "I knew
I'd like the two of you together," Pippin said huskily, and they
both laughed at that before Merry drew Faramir's mouth back to his own,
keeping hold of Pippin's hand all the while.
"Mmm, Faramir," Merry breathed. "What do you
want?" Faramir looked down at Merry with that clear-eyed gaze Pippin
well remembered, a gaze that reached to the heart, that in bed felt
like a caress to the soul, and Pippin's heart hurt sweetly to see that
gaze turned on his beloved beautiful Merry. "I wish to please you,"
Faramir replied, and Merry stared up at him as if drowning in his eyes.
They looked beautiful like that, Pippin thought, but on the
other hand Midsummer night was the shortest of the year. "I think
a finger or two would do nicely," he suggested, and grinned as
Merry turned red while Faramir laughed and reached for him to pull him
up for another kiss. "I am glad I have you here to direct me,"
Faramir said with cheer, and kissed Pippin's nose. "There may yet
be a bottle of oil in the top wardrobe drawer."
Pippin slid out of the bed and bounced across the room, ignoring
the twinge in his knee, focusing on the music of kisses and moans from
the bed. He found the bottle easily enough, though when he returned
he commented "You need a nightstand." Faramir raised an eyebrow
at that as he raised his head. "A what, Master Perian?"
"A nightstand," Merry explained breathlessly, "is
a piece of furniture by one's bed, where sensible peoples, such as hobbits,
keep necessities such as oil so they don't have to get out of their
beds in the midst of a tumble." Faramir looked from Merry to Pippin
and back again, and shook his head, and smiled, and settled for kissing
Pippin again until he was so distracted he nearly dropped the bottle.
Sometime in the midst of that kiss, Merry's hand slid up
Pippin's chest, stopping to pinch a nipple so that he gasped and Faramir
chuckled, and up over his shoulder and neck to his cheek; when Faramir
let his mouth go, Pippin found himself drawn down to kiss Merry, and
so hardly noticed when Faramir took the bottle from his hand until Merry
moaned into the kiss; Pippin nipped at his lip before lifting his head.
"Ah," he observed, running his gaze down along Merry's arched
body to Faramir's hand, one finger in up to the knuckle. "just
like that, Faramir."
Faramir nodded; Merry made an indignant sound. "I am,"
he said, pausing to gasp when Faramir pushed a bit more,"still
here, Pippin!"
"If you can talk we aren't doing this well enough."
Pippin tucked a hand between their bodies, and was soon rewarded by
Merry's gasp as his eyes rolled back in his head. Pippin grinned at
Faramir and stretched out alongside Merry, pressing his chest to his
back, alternating kissing him with Faramir as they held him between
them and, stroking the same rhythm, worked him up to a sobbing writhing
delight.
When Merry slumped against him, boneless and panting, Pippin
glanced up at Faramir, who was still tenderly watching Merry's face;
Faramir looked up at Pippin and smiled, sharing the sight with him,
but the smile soon gave way to blushing astonishment when Pippin withdrew
his sticky hand and slowly, lasciviously licked it clean. By the time
he was done, Faramir was redder than the drapes but grinning, and Merry
had his eyes open again and was smiling, and Pippin felt so pleased
he almost didn't need to peak.
Well, almost. "How do you, Merry?" he asked; for
reply Merry sat up, caught Pippin in his arms, kissed him soundly, and
rolled him laughing into Faramir's embrace. "I think it's your
turn, Pippin," Merry replied, leaning over Pippin to kiss Faramir.
"You, sir, are a wonder," he said to Faramir, who blushed
again and shook his head. "You two are the wonder," he replied.
"Are all halflings as light of heart and easy of manner about bedding
as you are?"
"Well, Pippin's a happy bundle of proddiness,"
Merry said, ignoring Pippin's protesting noise, "but in general
we hobbits enjoy the pleasures of life as fully as we might. So, I suppose
you might say we are, most of us."
"Easier than you Big Folk seem to be about it all,"
Pippin chirped. "It took forever for us to get Boromir to---"
Faramir trembled, and Merry went pale, and Pippin stopped breathing;
but then Faramir smiled at Pippin, eyes deep and wistful but not grieved,
and pulled Merry close with his other arm as he gently said, "I
am glad Boromir had such friends as you two, and I am glad I know how
well he was loved." With that he kissed Pippin again, stroking
his hair with one long-fingered hand, till Pippin's self-reproach faded
away in the warmth of Faramir's tender pardon. Pippin felt Merry lie
down at his side and kiss Faramir's cheek and his own, and when Merry
squeezed his hand the last bit of chill worry was thawed.
"So, Captain Faramir, what shall we do with your perian?"
Merry whispered in Faramir's ear, and Faramir chuckled without lifting
his head, kissing Pippin's eyes and nose and throat and chin till Pippin
wriggled beneath him, trying to catch his mouth. "I don't know,
Master Holbytla," Faramir replied, winning himself a delighted
grin and a kiss from Merry. "Have you any suggestions?"
"You might tup me," Pippin said hopefully, drawing
a doubtful snort from Merry and a raised eyebrow from Faramir. "No,
Pippin, I might not, when you are half again smaller than I and still
healing as well. Here," and Faramir turned onto his back, pulling
Pippin with him. "Let us---ah!" Pippin wriggled round quickly
on Faramir's chest, then stretched his lips round the head of a rapidly
stiffening prick. One of the nice things about the Ent-draughts, Pippin
thought absently as he wrapped both hands round, sucking hard and listening
to Faramir's gasps, was how everything had grown a little with
his increased height, including the span of his mouth.
"Hmmm," said Merry, wriggling in between Faramir's
legs, running his hands up those long thighs, "I think, Faramir,
you might do something with that arse Pippin is currently wiggling in
your face. And I---" he punctuated his words with a long slow lick
from Faramir's eggs to Pippin's upper lip---"I think I'll lend
Pip a hand here."
"Well advised, Merry." Pippin felt Faramir's hand
slide into his hair and stroke, slowly and warmly, down across his neck
and back; he moaned and pressed into the touch, and felt Faramir's twitch
at that moan, or perhaps it was at the feel of Merry getting his mouth
entirely round one egg, fingers winding round Pippin's so they could
stroke Faramir's shaft in unison.
Then it was Pippin's turn to gasp, as Faramir's hand slid
down his back and over his rump, gently and firmly at once, cupping
a whole cheek in pleasantly rough warmth as a slick finger slid slowly
between. Pippin moaned impatiently and shook his hips, unable both to
back onto that finger and to keep sucking, and Faramir chuckled and
patted his cheek. "Patience, Pippin," he said warmly.
Pippin pulled his head up with a wet smacking sound and blew,
and Faramir chuckled again, shivering a little. "All right, then,
prepare yourself---" and he drove the finger in so that Pippin
arched with a squeal. "Oh, yes, Faramir! Yes!"
Merry's laugh was quite muffled, but audible, his fingers
tightening round Pippin's, keeping their rhythm as Pippin slumped back
down, face resting on Faramir's firm belly, wallowing in the sensation
of Faramir's hands on him, one finger moving within him, the other hand
firmly stroking his back. Merry eased Faramir's egg back out of his
mouth and kissed his way up to nuzzle the crown of Pippin's head; already
shuddering all over, Pippin raised his head, and found himself falling
into amused grey eyes. "C'mere, Pip," Merry whispered, and
leaned forward to kiss him.
Somewhere beyond Merry's warm lips on his, Merry's tongue
stroking about in his mouth, beyond the pounding of his blood in his
ears and the pulsing of pleasure through his body, Pippin heard Faramir's
breathless chuckle. "Easy, Merry, I need my wits a moment longer,"
Faramir breathed, and that delightful finger drew back; Pippin whimpered
his impatience, and if he could have gotten his hands back from Merry
he would have pushed backwards, but then the finger returned with another,
and Pippin jerked, feeling the stretch and pain and then pleasure flaring
like an oil-drenched fire, and he wailed his satisfaction.
Unfortunately, that made Faramir pause, and Pippin tore his
mouth from Merry's, but he couldn't quite force it to words; Merry took
pity on him and said, "Pip's noisy when he's happy, isn't he?"
which made Faramir laugh and continue. Pippin sank down again, trembling
and moaning, as Merry kissed his brow and ears, as Faramir's other hand
slid down to wrap round him and in a few more strokes the rising pleasure
swept through him and bore him up and over the edge.
Pippin gasped back to sense to feel both Faramir's hands
draped warmly over his back and his body trembling with Faramir's shaking;
Faramir was laughing quietly, Merry not so quietly. "Ah, Pip,"
Merry said fondly, kissing Pippin's upturned ear,"I thought you'd
come out of your skin, that time. Can you breathe?"
"Mmm, ah, I think so." Pippin took a deep breath,
feeling himself warm all over, and stuck to Faramir all down their fronts;
he wriggled a bit, and brushed Faramir's sides with his feet to feel
him laugh again, and kissed Merry as he firmed his grasp. "You
have been awfully patient," Pippin said over his shoulder, and
Faramir patted his rump for reply. "We should get back to work,
shouldn't we, Merry?"
"You're the one who's been taking his ease," Merry
replied, kissing Pippin again as their joined hands began to move. Faramir
pressed his fingers into Pippin's flesh, shuddering as Pippin and Merry
chased each other's tongues round the head, stroking harder with their
joined fingers. "I, I am---" Faramir managed to gasp, and
Merry fastened his mouth over the head and sucked as Pippin murmured,
"yes, Faramir, yes," against the flesh he was licking, and
felt it twitch beneath his fingers and tongue as Faramir peaked with
a low long moan.
Merry made a muffled noise and drew back after a moment,
as Pippin peeled himself off of Faramir to turn round again, to kiss
Faramir's brow and wind his arms round his neck. Faramir's hand landed
limply on Pippin's back as he smiled, eyes still closed; snuggling his
head into the crook of Faramir's shoulder, Pippin laid his lips to the
pulse in his neck and felt it slow from pounding down to ease.
Eventually, Faramir's hand began to move on Pippin's back,
and he laughed. "You two are like no one ever," he said, helping
Merry climb over his legs to snuggle into his other side. "I feel
utterly filled with cheer. And remarkably sticky."
"Here, the sheet is done for anyway." Merry dragged
a corner of it up and began scrubbing at Faramir with it; Pippin grabbed
an edge to help, and Faramir began to wriggle and laugh. "That
tickles!" he cried, most imprudently; Merry and Pippin promptly
dropped the sheet and set to work with their fingers, and Faramir had
to pin their arms to their sides and hold down Pippin's legs with one
of his to vanquish them.
A fair bit of giggling and some sorting of pillows later,
Faramir lay with both of them in his arms, Pippin tucked against his
chest with Merry tucked up behind Pippin. Merry nestled his face into
Pippin's hair and dozed off; Pippin was near sleep as well when Faramir's
hand slid up to stroke his hair as Faramir dropped a kiss to his forehead.
"Thank you for saving me to joy, Pippin," Faramir whispered,
and Pippin smiled. "My pleasure, Faramir," Pippin murmured,
kissing his chest; laying his cheek over Faramir's heart, he fell asleep.
The fire had burned to embers, and Merry and Pippin had gone
to bed, loved each other by candlelight, and gone to sleep. Pippin woke
to moonlight and Merry's face buried in his hair; it took a moment for
him to realize that what had woken him was the shaking of Merry's shoulders,
that his hair was damp because Merry was silently weeping into it.
"Merry?" Pippin rolled over and kissed his brow.
"A nightmare?" Merry nodded, and swallowed hard, and managed
to stop weeping as Pippin kissed the remaining tears off his face. "Of
Boromir?" Merry nodded again, and Pippin kissed his mouth as well.
"Do you remember what Gandalf said?" Pippin asked,
stroking Merry's hair with one hand and his back with the other. "And
Faramir said this to me, too; they said that we were good for Boromir.
He loved us, Merry, he loved you, and Faramir loves us, not least for
what we were to Boromir. Remember that?"
Merry nodded, closing his eyes, and Pippin kissed their closed
lids; when Merry opened them again they were clear in the moonlight
as he raised them to Pippin's face. "I remember, Pip. I remember.
Thank you for reminding me."
Pippin knew his smile was stupid with relief, but he didn't
care. "I love you, my forgetful Brandybuck."
"And I love you, my silly Took." Merry kissed Pippin
for a long moment, holding him close, then settled his head on Pippin's
shoulder; Pippin laid his hand on Merry's back, feeling him breathe,
and thought of strong Boromir and of gentle Faramir, and closed his
eyes again.
