A Merry Gift for Yuletide
Dec. 23rd, 2004 10:32 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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lotr_sesaTitle: A Merry Gift for Yuletide
Author: maripo5a
Rating: NC-17 (to be on the safe side)
Pairing: Merry/Pippin
Disclaimer: Hobbits are Tolkien's, I have merely borrowed them for non-profit purposes. Sadly, I have to give them back. *pout*
Recipient: Angelica Headstrong
(http://www.livejournal.com/users/hobbit_trollop)
Pairing(s): M/P or S/F
Scenario, prompt: fluffy, angst-free
Squicks: non-con, mpreg
A Merry Gift for Yule
"That's good--just like that."
"Pippin..." Frodo looked down at him, amusement and trepidation warring on his face. "Are you sure about this?"
"My dear Frodo, trust me. Merry will be here in less than an hour, you've nothing to worry about. And you can always come back in a few hours to check on me, if you're afraid he's been delayed and I'm still here... like this." Pippin shifted against the coverlet, grinning flirtatiously up at his older cousin. "No harm can come to me, even if the whole thing comes to naught."
"And you're sure he shall... erm... like this Yule gift?"
Pippin looked through his lashes at Frodo, and tilted his head. "If you were Merry, would you like it?" he asked. Purred.
Frodo swallowed, then laughed. "Yes, I would, and I'd better leave before I unwrap a gift that isn't mine to play with." He leaned down and gave Pippin a quick, warm kiss. "There, that's to keep you warm until Merry arrives. I shall come over from the Hall in three hours just to check that Merry did, indeed. Ah. Come."
"Just check the stable for his pony," Pippin snickered. "Don't come in the house."
"Have no fear on that score," Frodo assured him dryly.
"Then get away with you, Frodo Baggins," Pippin scolded. "I don't want you here when Merry shows his face. He should have found the note telling him where to go quite a while ago."
"Very well, very well," and Frodo, laughing, stepped out of the bedroom, closing the door gently behind him.
~*~*~*~
"Pip?"
Pippin heard the front door close, faintly, away down the hall. "I'm in the back bedroom," he sang out.
"What are you doing here? I thought the house was locked up," Merry called. "And the parlor is all cold and dark. What are you up to, Peregrin Took?"
Pippin wriggled on the bed, anticipation warming him more than the bright fire in the grate had done. "I could ask the same of you, Meriadoc. I expected you half an hour ago. What kept you?"
The bedroom door swung open and Merry appeared, hesitant, suspicious.
"Did you think a bucket of feathers and molasses was going to fall on your head?" Pippin laid his curls sideways on the pillow to gaze at Merry and twisted his wrists slightly, feeling the silk slide along his wrists.
"I..." Merry looked as stunned as though something heavy had, indeed, hit him in the head, and Pippin choked back a thrilled giggle. "What is this?"
"Happy Yule, Meriadoc." Pippin spoke the words as seductively as he could, and smiled right at his cousin.
Merry, for his part, was quickly losing the ability to talk. His mouth felt dry and his palms rather damp, and his trousers were suddenly uncomfortable--as were Pippin's, if the bulge between his legs was anything to judge by.
Pippin, all laid out on the big feather bed. Wearing trousers and nothing else. Almost nothing else, that is, because one ankle had a ribbon wrapped round it and tied in a large red bow, and his wrists were... they were tied to the headboard of the bed with two silk scarves, which even now tightened as Pippin pulled against them. Not as if they hurt. Just... because. Because he liked the way Merry's blue eyes went dark when he did it, the way Merry stumbled toward the bed, the way Merry's gaze flicked from his arms to his face to his chest and then down, to where his erection pressed up against the soft, rough material of his trousers, making a ridge there.
"Who did this to you?" Merry managed to ask, coming to a halt just by the high bed.
One side of Pippin's mouth curved up in a teasing smile. "Now, Merry, it isn't polite to ask the provenance of a gift. Let's just say... it's done. And now what are you going to do about it?"
"I'm going to..." Merry surveyed him. "Well." He grinned. "First of all I'm going to take that ridiculous ribbon off you." He put one knee on the bed, creasing the coverlet, and untied the floppy red ribbon with quick, competent fingers. He pulled it off Pippin's ankle with a flourish.
"Now what?" Pippin asked. He could feel himself getting pink, warm all over at Merry's proximity. He wanted this--knew Merry wanted it, too--but suddenly he also felt skittish and as shy as a wild pony. What if Merry took advantage and, say, tickled him? Pippin almost squeaked at the mere thought, and when Merry ran his hand up Pippin's calf, the younger hobbit bucked and flailed his legs away, giggling. "Sorry, sorry," he gasped. "Just--ticklish!"
Merry grinned at him and sat on the bed by his thighs, hands primly in his lap. "But you're my Yule gift," he said. "What if all I wanted to do was tickle you?"
"Merry!" Pippin widened his eyes. "You wouldn't!"
Merry pretended to consider it for a moment, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "No," he relented at last, "I think I can devise much better uses for this particular gift. No tickling." His face went slightly wicked. "I do like having you at my mercy, though."
Pippin's legs sagged back down and his face went open with desire. "I am," he admitted. "At your mercy..."
"Perhaps I shall make you... watch." Merry stood up again, stepped toward the head of the bed.
"Watch what?" Pippin asked.
"This," said Merry, and he began to undress.
Pippin stared as Merry began to unbutton his shirt. It was not a special shirt--cambric, worn and soft and faded from bright yellow to ivory by countless washings. The buttons were small, mother-of-pearl beads that Merry pushed deliberately through their openings, slowly baring a slice of his pale, smooth chest. He pulled the shirt from his trousers and finished the job, then reached up and slid his braces off his shoulders. Only then did he shrug the shirt down, to puddle on the floor behind his heels.
Pippin licked his lips. Merry had such a lovely chest, really he did--wide and well-defined, and a sweet belly below it, and that line of dark, soft hair leading into his trousers...
...which he was unfastening, elegant fingers busy with the closures. The room was so quiet that a loud pop from the fireplace startled them both, and they jumped and grinned at each other. "What about my trousers?" Pippin asked plaintively as Merry slowly, languidly pushed the flaps of material down his hips.
Merry smiled at him. "What about them?" Down a little further and out he popped, mostly hard already. The trousers were soon disposed of, discarded atop his shirt. He stepped forward, completely naked now, and stood right by the head of the bed. Pippin frankly stared.
"I--uh. I just want to know when you are going to take my trousers off," he managed to ask.
Merry took himself in hand. "Maybe I'm not," he said. He raised one eyebrow and began to stroke himself.
Oh, this was worse than tickling. "You wouldn't!" Pippin cried again, twisting toward Merry, frustrated by the silk at his wrists. "Merry! You wouldn't leave me tied up here to just... watch you. Would you?"
Merry was quite hard now, and he leaned provocatively forward, letting the bed at his thighs support him as he stroked his cock firmly. "I might. I might not be able to help myself. Because you just. Look. So. Good." He closed his eyes.
"Merry!" Pippin whined. Merry could hear his breathing quicken. "Merry, look at me!"
He kept his eyes resolutely shut. "I'm afraid if I look at you it'll all be over," he said, half-joking, half-serious.
Pippin was getting desperate. Yes, he'd wanted to be helpless, he'd wanted Merry to do unspeakably naughty things to him while he writhed on the bed... but this wasn't at all what he'd had in mind. It was... Hoy. It was exciting. Just the sight of Merry naked was enough to send Pippin running to tackle him. The sight of him naked, his hand moving steadily up and down his shaft, a clear drop of pre-cum at the slit... Pippin licked his lips. He could taste it, he knew just how it would be, tangy in contrast to the salt sweat of his skin... "Merry, please," he whimpered.
Merry opened one eye and peered at Pippin, his right hand stuttering to a halt. "Does this bother you?" he asked.
"Bloody--"
"Would you like to... help?" Merry put his knee on the coverlet again, dipping the mattress slightly.
Pippin bucked and brought his legs up, folding himself in half and tucking his feet around Merry's knee. "Yes, please," he said persuasively.
"Should have had your ankles strapped down as well," Merry muttered, but he was laughing as he untangled Pippin's feet from his leg and climbed onto the bed. "Now. I can do whatever I want with you?" He cocked his head at Pippin.
"Just don't leave me out," Pippin said fervently.
"Okay." Merry crawled forward until he was braced foursquare over Pippin, looking down at him. "Can you help with this... with your mouth?"
Pippin looked at Merry's erection, bobbing gently a few inches in front of his lips. "Yes. Certainly I can." He licked his lips and lifted his head, straining forward.
Merry clung to the headboard with both hands, letting his back arch to meet Pippin's seeking mouth. "Ah, Pippin," he sighed. Warmth. Wet slippery heat and Pippin's tongue sliding over his head and then down the length of him; teeth scraping gently as Pippin moved his head back just a little, letting Merry slide from the haven of his mouth.
"I can't move my head enough," the younger hobbit said. His voice was tentative. "You'll have to... erm."
"What?" Merry asked, opening his eyes, which seemed to have sagged shut.
"You'll have to move. Set the, ah, pace. As if you were tupping my, ah, my mouth," Pippin said.
Merry's eyes widened and went dark, at once. "All right," he said, and his voice was odd, almost hoarse. He began to move his hips forward, stopped. "You'll tell me if I... if I hurt you."
"Of course," Pippin said. "Now please." He swallowed, his face so hungry that Merry nearly groaned. "Please come on."
It was strange, and awkward, trying to thrust forward without Pippin's body to brace him--almost into air, but for the feverish heat he was pushing into. "I--" Merry couldn't talk, so he moaned, and arched harder than he meant to. Such a talented tongue that Took had.
Merry struggled to hold on to some control; slowed his rhythm and forced his eyes open. The first thing he saw was his own hands, white-knuckled on the wooden headboard; next he saw Pippin's, suspended just outside his own, tendons in his forearms standing out as his hands flexed and twined in the silk. Merry gasped and bucked forward, heard Pippin's surprised noise, muffled by his own--god--his own member, and Merry climaxed, hard and fierce, spilling into Pippin's mouth and shuddering helplessly as he did so, crying out wordlessly.
"Oh Pip, are you all right?" he managed to gasp out, swinging off him, wincing slightly as one of his calves cramped. He huddled down by Pippin, looking into his face.
Pippin smiled and licked his lips. "Hmm," he said thoughtfully. "Yes, quite all right, thank you very much." He closed his eyes. "Though of course I could be better."
"How so?" though of course Merry knew, could see and feel the want.
Pippin arched against the silk. "Take my trousers off."
"Shall I?" Merry grinned, leaned to kiss him. Pippin’s tongue tasted of Merry's seed and the kiss turned searching, deep and sweet and long. Merry felt the warmth radiating from Pippin's bare chest and he ran his fingertips gently along Pippin's jaw, feeling the unhurried working as Pippin's slick tongue twined with his own. His hand moved lightly down, tracing the clean line of his throat; flattened and lay firm on his taut belly.
"Merry," Pippin sighed when they broke apart to breathe.
"Pip, my Pip," Merry said, and lay his head on Pippin's chest, facing away. He felt his cousin's breath stir his curls. "What made you think of this, ah, gift?"
"Do you like it?"
Merry did not move, but he grinned and flicked his tongue out in a little lick. "What do you think?" he said dryly. "It took me about two minutes to come, I almost just had to look at you."
"So glad, Merry-mine. As for how I thought of it... I don't know. I love when you hold my wrists, you know. So then I thought... well. I thought of this." Merry felt the flush before he lifted his head to see it, reddening Pippin from his chest to his ears.
"I don't care how you managed it," Merry said. "It's quite wonderful." He sat up beside Pippin, elbows on his knees and chin in his hands, and surveyed him. "And what shall I do with my gift?"
"Unwrap it," Pippin suggested.
"Explore it," Merry decreed.
And so he did. He started at Pippin's face--high smooth forehead and long pointed nose, the curve of his cheekbones and chin, his mouth... His mouth merited a long, slow, thorough exploration, and a murmured commentary as well. His ears--delicious and so sensitive he squirmed and gasped under Merry’s ministrations, groaning with frustration. "My trousers!" he grated out, and Merry laughed and moved down to his neck, licking and kissing and biting carefully, just at the place where the tendon met his shoulder. Collarbones like delicate wings, and then his chest, smooth and hard and narrow, the striations of ribs beneath pale, barely freckled skin, and the nubs of his nipples, tiny and pink, pebbling as Merry laved them gently. Pippin’s belly was harder than Merry’s, the almost-concave belly of a youth outgrowing himself and eating endlessly. Merry swirled his tongue around Pippin’s navel, laughing at the tortured giggle and twitch Pippin emitted.
Then Merry’s hands were on the ties of the worn brown trousers and Pippin’s erection pressed up to meet them; Merry hardly had the fabric parted before Pippin was arching his back, offering himself to Merry’s mouth, which hovered just over the eager, straining flesh.
"Lovely," he hummed, and felt Pippin sag with relief as he licked deliberately across the head.
"Finally," Pippin moaned, and Merry grinned around his mouthful before diving down to pay proper homage to such a generous gift.
Pippin was gratifyingly responsive, hips arching up as he tried to push himself further into Merry’s willing mouth. Merry used his hands to echo his mouth’s movements, and soon Pippin’s voice vanished into fast breath and wordless sounds.
That's when Merry stopped.
"Nooo!" Pippin wailed, then went silent and pliant suddenly as Merry sat up and tugged the trousers down and off him. The older hobbit knelt beside his head.
"Where’s the oil?" His voice was calm, and Pippin stopped looking wildly frustrated long enough to open his eyes. He looked at Merry’s face, then craned his neck to peer down at Merry’s cock, already hard again.
"What makes you think I have any?"
"There is no way you set all this up and forgot to have something around here for... you know. So where’s the oil? Don't think I won’t improvise if I have to," Merry said, and then grinned at the look of temptation in Pippin’s eyes, at the way his hands gripped the silk scarves binding him and tightened. "Don’t, Pip--I don’t want to go looking. I want to stay right." He kissed Pippin’s nose, slid one hand down his chest and belly. "Here." Squeezed Pippin’s member, and was rewarded by a gasp.
"Drawer," Pippin managed to say.
"Ah, Pip, love you so much. I am going to do such things to you..." Merry fetched the flaxseed oil and poured it into his palm. Smoothed it over his cock, over Pippin’s, and then down, rubbing the loose skin of Pippin's sac. Then lower. All the while Merry murmured a list of just exactly what he would do to Pippin, and Pippin shivered under his hands, let his legs fall open as Merry slid one oil-slick finger inside him. Then another, and another, reaching and seeking until Pippin inhaled sharply. Merry stroked that little place, that sensitive little spot, growling endearments and promises into Pippin’s ear, watching his face scrunch up in pleasure, his body go hard, his cock twitch as Merry stroked and kneaded and reached.
"Need to be inside you," Merry mumbled suddenly, and just like that he was kneeling between Pippin’s thighs. The younger hobbit folded himself, almost, Merry’s slippery hands pressing his knees up and back, and now the binding scarves came into their own, Merry saw Pippin’s face go dark and desperate with want--his arms corded with tension, pulling against the restraints. Merry pressed forward, steadied the head of his cock against Pippin’s puckered little opening and then nudged inward, trying to go slow, wanting to get there as quick as he could.
His eyes focused as much on Pippin’s shoulders as his face. Such beautiful shoulders--angular and rounded, smooth skin rippling over taut, tense muscle as Pippin clenched his jaw and relaxed his body, allowing Merry entrance. And then Merry’s eyes closed, because all he could stand to do was feel--tighthotslick around himself, the oily glide of Pippin’s inner thighs against the fronts of his own and the coverlet against his knees. His hands--one lightly placed on Pippin’s hip, the other still pressed between them--flexed and pressed against warm, sweaty skin, holding Pippin still and close.
"Merry," Pippin said, and Merry shifted again, began moving.
He forced his eyes open, watching with hunger and heat as Pippin arched his back against the restraints, tried desperately for purchase with his legs--wrapping them round Merry’s waist, pulling him further in. His hips bucked and Merry obliged, thrusting deep, granted a wordless cry.
Pippin’s member lay trapped between their bellies, sliding across the damp, oily skin there, and Merry leaned forward to give Pippin the friction he needed, setting a measured rhythm at the same time. "What do you want, Pippin?" he asked softly, voice at odds with his sweaty forehead, the intensity of his gaze. "Tell me what you want."
"More," Pippin said, eyes closed tightly, lashes two lines of spiky darkness against his cheekbones. "Please, Merry--more."
"More of this?" Merry moved quicker, feeling the heat build within his stomach and thighs and balls.
"Harder," Pippin gasped. "Please. Please."
Merry braced himself, one hand on the bed, the other hard and cruel on Pippin’s hipbone. "Yes, Pippin. Tell me."
"Please do it harder, Merry, please please don’t stop, harder faster please..." Pippin was so close, Merry didn't need his high, sweet, delirious voice to tell him, or the fact that his head was thrashing from side to side on the pillow, or the sticky drops of pre-cum being smeared between them as Merry pounded into him and his cock was ground between them.
"Gonna make you shout, my Pippin," Merry promised, sliding his hand from Pippin’s hip to his cock. He leaned back slightly, never ceasing his driving rhythm, and began to work Pippin’s throbbing erection in time with it.
Shout he did, loud and fierce and high, and the sound almost put Merry over the edge, the sound and watching Pippin lash against the bonds at his wrists, the feel of his legs clamped around his waist, the delirious curve of his throat as he throws his head back--thank goodness for pillows--and arches into an impossible bow, shuddering and yelling his completion, spurting onto his own belly and Merry’s as he bucked beneath him.
But Merry held back--knowing perfectly well he would follow soon, he still held back, because the next moments were just as delicious.
Pippin sagged, breath fast and panting, and his legs slid down to lie upon the bed. Merry braced himself, continued to move, slammed inward harder and faster.
"Open your eyes," he grated out, and Pippin obeyed, heavy-lidded eyes fluttering open to meet Merry’s fevered gaze.
Merry saw Pippin’s thin hands hanging limply from the scarves, the red burns where the silk scraped across the tender skin of his wrists. Felt Pippin’s lax, drowsy weight against him and the still-tight, still-hot clench of his body, saw his slack red mouth and how his curls were stuck to his forehead and neck, and then Merry came, then, staring into Pippin’s green eyes and grinding downward, groaning with the simple need of it, the absolute beauty of what dwelt between them, perfect trust and magnetism and heat. It washed through him, this time, wave after wave of bone-jarring pleasure, and then he lay slack, collapsed upon Pippin, dissolved.
He sighed after a while, and rolled off his cousin to lie beside him. He stared at the ceiling of Crickhollow, firelight shimmering yellow, playing over the black beams and white plaster. When he turned his head he saw Pippin, his head turned upon the pillow, smiling at him.
"Happy Yule," the young hobbit said.
"I don’t know how I am going to top that gift," Merry said, smiling back.
"You don’t have to top the gift," Pippin purred. "Just me."
Merry laughed, curling around his stomach. "Incorrigible Took!" He pushed himself to a seated position, making a face as his body protested movement. "I should leave you tied up."
Pippin sprawls absolutely bonelessly, only his dangling wrists moving at all. "But then who would fetch you the mug of ale you’re absolutely dying for?" he asked.
"I could always get it myself," Merry said, though he leaned over to kiss Pippin’s nearest hand.
Pippin ran his fingers over Merry’s cheek. "You wouldn’t want to do that." His smile widened, and a wicked gleam glinted in his eyes. "Besides, I got you another Yule gift, and it’s hidden away."
"What is it?" Merry kissed Pippin’s fingers again and sat back.
"I got it from Mistress Delice, down in the Southfarthing," Pippin said. "It cost me a month’s allowance."
"You got chocolate?!" Merry’s eyes went round and he set to work on the knots at Pippin’s wrists. "However did you get it?"
"She thinks me ever so charming," Pippin said, and then chortled at Merry’s exasperated expression. "No worries, Merry-mine, I didn’t promise anything but the gelt."
"Shameless flirt," Merry muttered as one wrist dropped to the mattress.
Pippin grinned and kissed Merry’s chest where he can reach, running his hand lazily down the broad, damp back as Merry leaned across him to untie the other wrist. "All in a good cause. How shall we eat it?" he asked. "I got four bars. We could cook with it, or melt it and make a drink of it with milk, or just... you know. Eat it." His hand dropped, freed, and he grunted slightly as Merry swung over to straddle his hips. "Mmm, feels fine," he murmured as the older hobbit rubbed the red marks, lifting each arm to kiss them carefully.
"They don’t hurt?" Merry asked. He released Pippin’s hand and framed his face within his palms. He waited for Pippin’s smiling headshake and then bent down to kiss him deeply.
"Now," Merry said a little later. "Ale and chocolate?"
"Or tea and chocolate," Pippin nodded. "And bread and cheese and ham and some greens, and there is that yummy creamy herb stuff to spread on the bread if you want, and some crackers, and dried fruit, and oh! Mushrooms, I got some from Farmer Maggot--I paid for them!" he said indignantly as Merry cocked an eyebrow at him. "And a seedcake, and those crumbly biscuits Widow Twofoot sells down the market--I got some yesterday."
Merry kissed him again, bouncing slightly just for the pleasure of seeing Pippin’s face scrunch up in discomfort and mock outrage, and hearing his breath whuff out in a rush. "Well, let's go look over the provisions," he said cheerfully.
"Certainly," Pippin said, using his newfound freedom to shove Merry smartly off him and hopping from the bed. "There's also plenty of Old Toby. That and the food should see us through the night."
"It’s a start, anyway," Merry agreed, and trotted after Pippin.
~*~*~*~
My dear lads--
Came by to check that Pippin was not wasting away here alone. Saw Merry's pony and heard far too much--where did you get chocolate, Pippin, and did you save any for your helpful assistant?--and decided he was certainly not alone. Discretion being the better part of valour and so on, I quietly took my leave. I shall have hot baths waiting in my rooms if you ever emerge.
Your loving cousin--
Frodo
Frodo tucked the pencil back into his weskit and folded the scrap of paper in half. He tucked it into the doorframe and then turned his face toward Brandy Hall, a quick walk away across frosty fields. Whistling, he picked his feet up smartly and shoved his hands into his pockets, grinning and wondering just how messy his cousins would be by morning.
~end~
Author: maripo5a
Rating: NC-17 (to be on the safe side)
Pairing: Merry/Pippin
Disclaimer: Hobbits are Tolkien's, I have merely borrowed them for non-profit purposes. Sadly, I have to give them back. *pout*
Recipient: Angelica Headstrong
(http://www.livejournal.com/users/hobbit_trollop)
Pairing(s): M/P or S/F
Scenario, prompt: fluffy, angst-free
Squicks: non-con, mpreg
A Merry Gift for Yule
"That's good--just like that."
"Pippin..." Frodo looked down at him, amusement and trepidation warring on his face. "Are you sure about this?"
"My dear Frodo, trust me. Merry will be here in less than an hour, you've nothing to worry about. And you can always come back in a few hours to check on me, if you're afraid he's been delayed and I'm still here... like this." Pippin shifted against the coverlet, grinning flirtatiously up at his older cousin. "No harm can come to me, even if the whole thing comes to naught."
"And you're sure he shall... erm... like this Yule gift?"
Pippin looked through his lashes at Frodo, and tilted his head. "If you were Merry, would you like it?" he asked. Purred.
Frodo swallowed, then laughed. "Yes, I would, and I'd better leave before I unwrap a gift that isn't mine to play with." He leaned down and gave Pippin a quick, warm kiss. "There, that's to keep you warm until Merry arrives. I shall come over from the Hall in three hours just to check that Merry did, indeed. Ah. Come."
"Just check the stable for his pony," Pippin snickered. "Don't come in the house."
"Have no fear on that score," Frodo assured him dryly.
"Then get away with you, Frodo Baggins," Pippin scolded. "I don't want you here when Merry shows his face. He should have found the note telling him where to go quite a while ago."
"Very well, very well," and Frodo, laughing, stepped out of the bedroom, closing the door gently behind him.
~*~*~*~
"Pip?"
Pippin heard the front door close, faintly, away down the hall. "I'm in the back bedroom," he sang out.
"What are you doing here? I thought the house was locked up," Merry called. "And the parlor is all cold and dark. What are you up to, Peregrin Took?"
Pippin wriggled on the bed, anticipation warming him more than the bright fire in the grate had done. "I could ask the same of you, Meriadoc. I expected you half an hour ago. What kept you?"
The bedroom door swung open and Merry appeared, hesitant, suspicious.
"Did you think a bucket of feathers and molasses was going to fall on your head?" Pippin laid his curls sideways on the pillow to gaze at Merry and twisted his wrists slightly, feeling the silk slide along his wrists.
"I..." Merry looked as stunned as though something heavy had, indeed, hit him in the head, and Pippin choked back a thrilled giggle. "What is this?"
"Happy Yule, Meriadoc." Pippin spoke the words as seductively as he could, and smiled right at his cousin.
Merry, for his part, was quickly losing the ability to talk. His mouth felt dry and his palms rather damp, and his trousers were suddenly uncomfortable--as were Pippin's, if the bulge between his legs was anything to judge by.
Pippin, all laid out on the big feather bed. Wearing trousers and nothing else. Almost nothing else, that is, because one ankle had a ribbon wrapped round it and tied in a large red bow, and his wrists were... they were tied to the headboard of the bed with two silk scarves, which even now tightened as Pippin pulled against them. Not as if they hurt. Just... because. Because he liked the way Merry's blue eyes went dark when he did it, the way Merry stumbled toward the bed, the way Merry's gaze flicked from his arms to his face to his chest and then down, to where his erection pressed up against the soft, rough material of his trousers, making a ridge there.
"Who did this to you?" Merry managed to ask, coming to a halt just by the high bed.
One side of Pippin's mouth curved up in a teasing smile. "Now, Merry, it isn't polite to ask the provenance of a gift. Let's just say... it's done. And now what are you going to do about it?"
"I'm going to..." Merry surveyed him. "Well." He grinned. "First of all I'm going to take that ridiculous ribbon off you." He put one knee on the bed, creasing the coverlet, and untied the floppy red ribbon with quick, competent fingers. He pulled it off Pippin's ankle with a flourish.
"Now what?" Pippin asked. He could feel himself getting pink, warm all over at Merry's proximity. He wanted this--knew Merry wanted it, too--but suddenly he also felt skittish and as shy as a wild pony. What if Merry took advantage and, say, tickled him? Pippin almost squeaked at the mere thought, and when Merry ran his hand up Pippin's calf, the younger hobbit bucked and flailed his legs away, giggling. "Sorry, sorry," he gasped. "Just--ticklish!"
Merry grinned at him and sat on the bed by his thighs, hands primly in his lap. "But you're my Yule gift," he said. "What if all I wanted to do was tickle you?"
"Merry!" Pippin widened his eyes. "You wouldn't!"
Merry pretended to consider it for a moment, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "No," he relented at last, "I think I can devise much better uses for this particular gift. No tickling." His face went slightly wicked. "I do like having you at my mercy, though."
Pippin's legs sagged back down and his face went open with desire. "I am," he admitted. "At your mercy..."
"Perhaps I shall make you... watch." Merry stood up again, stepped toward the head of the bed.
"Watch what?" Pippin asked.
"This," said Merry, and he began to undress.
Pippin stared as Merry began to unbutton his shirt. It was not a special shirt--cambric, worn and soft and faded from bright yellow to ivory by countless washings. The buttons were small, mother-of-pearl beads that Merry pushed deliberately through their openings, slowly baring a slice of his pale, smooth chest. He pulled the shirt from his trousers and finished the job, then reached up and slid his braces off his shoulders. Only then did he shrug the shirt down, to puddle on the floor behind his heels.
Pippin licked his lips. Merry had such a lovely chest, really he did--wide and well-defined, and a sweet belly below it, and that line of dark, soft hair leading into his trousers...
...which he was unfastening, elegant fingers busy with the closures. The room was so quiet that a loud pop from the fireplace startled them both, and they jumped and grinned at each other. "What about my trousers?" Pippin asked plaintively as Merry slowly, languidly pushed the flaps of material down his hips.
Merry smiled at him. "What about them?" Down a little further and out he popped, mostly hard already. The trousers were soon disposed of, discarded atop his shirt. He stepped forward, completely naked now, and stood right by the head of the bed. Pippin frankly stared.
"I--uh. I just want to know when you are going to take my trousers off," he managed to ask.
Merry took himself in hand. "Maybe I'm not," he said. He raised one eyebrow and began to stroke himself.
Oh, this was worse than tickling. "You wouldn't!" Pippin cried again, twisting toward Merry, frustrated by the silk at his wrists. "Merry! You wouldn't leave me tied up here to just... watch you. Would you?"
Merry was quite hard now, and he leaned provocatively forward, letting the bed at his thighs support him as he stroked his cock firmly. "I might. I might not be able to help myself. Because you just. Look. So. Good." He closed his eyes.
"Merry!" Pippin whined. Merry could hear his breathing quicken. "Merry, look at me!"
He kept his eyes resolutely shut. "I'm afraid if I look at you it'll all be over," he said, half-joking, half-serious.
Pippin was getting desperate. Yes, he'd wanted to be helpless, he'd wanted Merry to do unspeakably naughty things to him while he writhed on the bed... but this wasn't at all what he'd had in mind. It was... Hoy. It was exciting. Just the sight of Merry naked was enough to send Pippin running to tackle him. The sight of him naked, his hand moving steadily up and down his shaft, a clear drop of pre-cum at the slit... Pippin licked his lips. He could taste it, he knew just how it would be, tangy in contrast to the salt sweat of his skin... "Merry, please," he whimpered.
Merry opened one eye and peered at Pippin, his right hand stuttering to a halt. "Does this bother you?" he asked.
"Bloody--"
"Would you like to... help?" Merry put his knee on the coverlet again, dipping the mattress slightly.
Pippin bucked and brought his legs up, folding himself in half and tucking his feet around Merry's knee. "Yes, please," he said persuasively.
"Should have had your ankles strapped down as well," Merry muttered, but he was laughing as he untangled Pippin's feet from his leg and climbed onto the bed. "Now. I can do whatever I want with you?" He cocked his head at Pippin.
"Just don't leave me out," Pippin said fervently.
"Okay." Merry crawled forward until he was braced foursquare over Pippin, looking down at him. "Can you help with this... with your mouth?"
Pippin looked at Merry's erection, bobbing gently a few inches in front of his lips. "Yes. Certainly I can." He licked his lips and lifted his head, straining forward.
Merry clung to the headboard with both hands, letting his back arch to meet Pippin's seeking mouth. "Ah, Pippin," he sighed. Warmth. Wet slippery heat and Pippin's tongue sliding over his head and then down the length of him; teeth scraping gently as Pippin moved his head back just a little, letting Merry slide from the haven of his mouth.
"I can't move my head enough," the younger hobbit said. His voice was tentative. "You'll have to... erm."
"What?" Merry asked, opening his eyes, which seemed to have sagged shut.
"You'll have to move. Set the, ah, pace. As if you were tupping my, ah, my mouth," Pippin said.
Merry's eyes widened and went dark, at once. "All right," he said, and his voice was odd, almost hoarse. He began to move his hips forward, stopped. "You'll tell me if I... if I hurt you."
"Of course," Pippin said. "Now please." He swallowed, his face so hungry that Merry nearly groaned. "Please come on."
It was strange, and awkward, trying to thrust forward without Pippin's body to brace him--almost into air, but for the feverish heat he was pushing into. "I--" Merry couldn't talk, so he moaned, and arched harder than he meant to. Such a talented tongue that Took had.
Merry struggled to hold on to some control; slowed his rhythm and forced his eyes open. The first thing he saw was his own hands, white-knuckled on the wooden headboard; next he saw Pippin's, suspended just outside his own, tendons in his forearms standing out as his hands flexed and twined in the silk. Merry gasped and bucked forward, heard Pippin's surprised noise, muffled by his own--god--his own member, and Merry climaxed, hard and fierce, spilling into Pippin's mouth and shuddering helplessly as he did so, crying out wordlessly.
"Oh Pip, are you all right?" he managed to gasp out, swinging off him, wincing slightly as one of his calves cramped. He huddled down by Pippin, looking into his face.
Pippin smiled and licked his lips. "Hmm," he said thoughtfully. "Yes, quite all right, thank you very much." He closed his eyes. "Though of course I could be better."
"How so?" though of course Merry knew, could see and feel the want.
Pippin arched against the silk. "Take my trousers off."
"Shall I?" Merry grinned, leaned to kiss him. Pippin’s tongue tasted of Merry's seed and the kiss turned searching, deep and sweet and long. Merry felt the warmth radiating from Pippin's bare chest and he ran his fingertips gently along Pippin's jaw, feeling the unhurried working as Pippin's slick tongue twined with his own. His hand moved lightly down, tracing the clean line of his throat; flattened and lay firm on his taut belly.
"Merry," Pippin sighed when they broke apart to breathe.
"Pip, my Pip," Merry said, and lay his head on Pippin's chest, facing away. He felt his cousin's breath stir his curls. "What made you think of this, ah, gift?"
"Do you like it?"
Merry did not move, but he grinned and flicked his tongue out in a little lick. "What do you think?" he said dryly. "It took me about two minutes to come, I almost just had to look at you."
"So glad, Merry-mine. As for how I thought of it... I don't know. I love when you hold my wrists, you know. So then I thought... well. I thought of this." Merry felt the flush before he lifted his head to see it, reddening Pippin from his chest to his ears.
"I don't care how you managed it," Merry said. "It's quite wonderful." He sat up beside Pippin, elbows on his knees and chin in his hands, and surveyed him. "And what shall I do with my gift?"
"Unwrap it," Pippin suggested.
"Explore it," Merry decreed.
And so he did. He started at Pippin's face--high smooth forehead and long pointed nose, the curve of his cheekbones and chin, his mouth... His mouth merited a long, slow, thorough exploration, and a murmured commentary as well. His ears--delicious and so sensitive he squirmed and gasped under Merry’s ministrations, groaning with frustration. "My trousers!" he grated out, and Merry laughed and moved down to his neck, licking and kissing and biting carefully, just at the place where the tendon met his shoulder. Collarbones like delicate wings, and then his chest, smooth and hard and narrow, the striations of ribs beneath pale, barely freckled skin, and the nubs of his nipples, tiny and pink, pebbling as Merry laved them gently. Pippin’s belly was harder than Merry’s, the almost-concave belly of a youth outgrowing himself and eating endlessly. Merry swirled his tongue around Pippin’s navel, laughing at the tortured giggle and twitch Pippin emitted.
Then Merry’s hands were on the ties of the worn brown trousers and Pippin’s erection pressed up to meet them; Merry hardly had the fabric parted before Pippin was arching his back, offering himself to Merry’s mouth, which hovered just over the eager, straining flesh.
"Lovely," he hummed, and felt Pippin sag with relief as he licked deliberately across the head.
"Finally," Pippin moaned, and Merry grinned around his mouthful before diving down to pay proper homage to such a generous gift.
Pippin was gratifyingly responsive, hips arching up as he tried to push himself further into Merry’s willing mouth. Merry used his hands to echo his mouth’s movements, and soon Pippin’s voice vanished into fast breath and wordless sounds.
That's when Merry stopped.
"Nooo!" Pippin wailed, then went silent and pliant suddenly as Merry sat up and tugged the trousers down and off him. The older hobbit knelt beside his head.
"Where’s the oil?" His voice was calm, and Pippin stopped looking wildly frustrated long enough to open his eyes. He looked at Merry’s face, then craned his neck to peer down at Merry’s cock, already hard again.
"What makes you think I have any?"
"There is no way you set all this up and forgot to have something around here for... you know. So where’s the oil? Don't think I won’t improvise if I have to," Merry said, and then grinned at the look of temptation in Pippin’s eyes, at the way his hands gripped the silk scarves binding him and tightened. "Don’t, Pip--I don’t want to go looking. I want to stay right." He kissed Pippin’s nose, slid one hand down his chest and belly. "Here." Squeezed Pippin’s member, and was rewarded by a gasp.
"Drawer," Pippin managed to say.
"Ah, Pip, love you so much. I am going to do such things to you..." Merry fetched the flaxseed oil and poured it into his palm. Smoothed it over his cock, over Pippin’s, and then down, rubbing the loose skin of Pippin's sac. Then lower. All the while Merry murmured a list of just exactly what he would do to Pippin, and Pippin shivered under his hands, let his legs fall open as Merry slid one oil-slick finger inside him. Then another, and another, reaching and seeking until Pippin inhaled sharply. Merry stroked that little place, that sensitive little spot, growling endearments and promises into Pippin’s ear, watching his face scrunch up in pleasure, his body go hard, his cock twitch as Merry stroked and kneaded and reached.
"Need to be inside you," Merry mumbled suddenly, and just like that he was kneeling between Pippin’s thighs. The younger hobbit folded himself, almost, Merry’s slippery hands pressing his knees up and back, and now the binding scarves came into their own, Merry saw Pippin’s face go dark and desperate with want--his arms corded with tension, pulling against the restraints. Merry pressed forward, steadied the head of his cock against Pippin’s puckered little opening and then nudged inward, trying to go slow, wanting to get there as quick as he could.
His eyes focused as much on Pippin’s shoulders as his face. Such beautiful shoulders--angular and rounded, smooth skin rippling over taut, tense muscle as Pippin clenched his jaw and relaxed his body, allowing Merry entrance. And then Merry’s eyes closed, because all he could stand to do was feel--tighthotslick around himself, the oily glide of Pippin’s inner thighs against the fronts of his own and the coverlet against his knees. His hands--one lightly placed on Pippin’s hip, the other still pressed between them--flexed and pressed against warm, sweaty skin, holding Pippin still and close.
"Merry," Pippin said, and Merry shifted again, began moving.
He forced his eyes open, watching with hunger and heat as Pippin arched his back against the restraints, tried desperately for purchase with his legs--wrapping them round Merry’s waist, pulling him further in. His hips bucked and Merry obliged, thrusting deep, granted a wordless cry.
Pippin’s member lay trapped between their bellies, sliding across the damp, oily skin there, and Merry leaned forward to give Pippin the friction he needed, setting a measured rhythm at the same time. "What do you want, Pippin?" he asked softly, voice at odds with his sweaty forehead, the intensity of his gaze. "Tell me what you want."
"More," Pippin said, eyes closed tightly, lashes two lines of spiky darkness against his cheekbones. "Please, Merry--more."
"More of this?" Merry moved quicker, feeling the heat build within his stomach and thighs and balls.
"Harder," Pippin gasped. "Please. Please."
Merry braced himself, one hand on the bed, the other hard and cruel on Pippin’s hipbone. "Yes, Pippin. Tell me."
"Please do it harder, Merry, please please don’t stop, harder faster please..." Pippin was so close, Merry didn't need his high, sweet, delirious voice to tell him, or the fact that his head was thrashing from side to side on the pillow, or the sticky drops of pre-cum being smeared between them as Merry pounded into him and his cock was ground between them.
"Gonna make you shout, my Pippin," Merry promised, sliding his hand from Pippin’s hip to his cock. He leaned back slightly, never ceasing his driving rhythm, and began to work Pippin’s throbbing erection in time with it.
Shout he did, loud and fierce and high, and the sound almost put Merry over the edge, the sound and watching Pippin lash against the bonds at his wrists, the feel of his legs clamped around his waist, the delirious curve of his throat as he throws his head back--thank goodness for pillows--and arches into an impossible bow, shuddering and yelling his completion, spurting onto his own belly and Merry’s as he bucked beneath him.
But Merry held back--knowing perfectly well he would follow soon, he still held back, because the next moments were just as delicious.
Pippin sagged, breath fast and panting, and his legs slid down to lie upon the bed. Merry braced himself, continued to move, slammed inward harder and faster.
"Open your eyes," he grated out, and Pippin obeyed, heavy-lidded eyes fluttering open to meet Merry’s fevered gaze.
Merry saw Pippin’s thin hands hanging limply from the scarves, the red burns where the silk scraped across the tender skin of his wrists. Felt Pippin’s lax, drowsy weight against him and the still-tight, still-hot clench of his body, saw his slack red mouth and how his curls were stuck to his forehead and neck, and then Merry came, then, staring into Pippin’s green eyes and grinding downward, groaning with the simple need of it, the absolute beauty of what dwelt between them, perfect trust and magnetism and heat. It washed through him, this time, wave after wave of bone-jarring pleasure, and then he lay slack, collapsed upon Pippin, dissolved.
He sighed after a while, and rolled off his cousin to lie beside him. He stared at the ceiling of Crickhollow, firelight shimmering yellow, playing over the black beams and white plaster. When he turned his head he saw Pippin, his head turned upon the pillow, smiling at him.
"Happy Yule," the young hobbit said.
"I don’t know how I am going to top that gift," Merry said, smiling back.
"You don’t have to top the gift," Pippin purred. "Just me."
Merry laughed, curling around his stomach. "Incorrigible Took!" He pushed himself to a seated position, making a face as his body protested movement. "I should leave you tied up."
Pippin sprawls absolutely bonelessly, only his dangling wrists moving at all. "But then who would fetch you the mug of ale you’re absolutely dying for?" he asked.
"I could always get it myself," Merry said, though he leaned over to kiss Pippin’s nearest hand.
Pippin ran his fingers over Merry’s cheek. "You wouldn’t want to do that." His smile widened, and a wicked gleam glinted in his eyes. "Besides, I got you another Yule gift, and it’s hidden away."
"What is it?" Merry kissed Pippin’s fingers again and sat back.
"I got it from Mistress Delice, down in the Southfarthing," Pippin said. "It cost me a month’s allowance."
"You got chocolate?!" Merry’s eyes went round and he set to work on the knots at Pippin’s wrists. "However did you get it?"
"She thinks me ever so charming," Pippin said, and then chortled at Merry’s exasperated expression. "No worries, Merry-mine, I didn’t promise anything but the gelt."
"Shameless flirt," Merry muttered as one wrist dropped to the mattress.
Pippin grinned and kissed Merry’s chest where he can reach, running his hand lazily down the broad, damp back as Merry leaned across him to untie the other wrist. "All in a good cause. How shall we eat it?" he asked. "I got four bars. We could cook with it, or melt it and make a drink of it with milk, or just... you know. Eat it." His hand dropped, freed, and he grunted slightly as Merry swung over to straddle his hips. "Mmm, feels fine," he murmured as the older hobbit rubbed the red marks, lifting each arm to kiss them carefully.
"They don’t hurt?" Merry asked. He released Pippin’s hand and framed his face within his palms. He waited for Pippin’s smiling headshake and then bent down to kiss him deeply.
"Now," Merry said a little later. "Ale and chocolate?"
"Or tea and chocolate," Pippin nodded. "And bread and cheese and ham and some greens, and there is that yummy creamy herb stuff to spread on the bread if you want, and some crackers, and dried fruit, and oh! Mushrooms, I got some from Farmer Maggot--I paid for them!" he said indignantly as Merry cocked an eyebrow at him. "And a seedcake, and those crumbly biscuits Widow Twofoot sells down the market--I got some yesterday."
Merry kissed him again, bouncing slightly just for the pleasure of seeing Pippin’s face scrunch up in discomfort and mock outrage, and hearing his breath whuff out in a rush. "Well, let's go look over the provisions," he said cheerfully.
"Certainly," Pippin said, using his newfound freedom to shove Merry smartly off him and hopping from the bed. "There's also plenty of Old Toby. That and the food should see us through the night."
"It’s a start, anyway," Merry agreed, and trotted after Pippin.
~*~*~*~
My dear lads--
Came by to check that Pippin was not wasting away here alone. Saw Merry's pony and heard far too much--where did you get chocolate, Pippin, and did you save any for your helpful assistant?--and decided he was certainly not alone. Discretion being the better part of valour and so on, I quietly took my leave. I shall have hot baths waiting in my rooms if you ever emerge.
Your loving cousin--
Frodo
Frodo tucked the pencil back into his weskit and folded the scrap of paper in half. He tucked it into the doorframe and then turned his face toward Brandy Hall, a quick walk away across frosty fields. Whistling, he picked his feet up smartly and shoved his hands into his pockets, grinning and wondering just how messy his cousins would be by morning.
~end~
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no subject
Date: 2004-12-25 07:52 pm (UTC)"I don't care how you managed it," Merry said. "It's quite wonderful." He sat up beside Pippin, elbows on his knees and chin in his hands, and surveyed him. "And what shall I do with my gift?"
"Unwrap it," Pippin suggested.
"Explore it," Merry decreed.
... hee! And that made me giggle, of course.
no subject
Date: 2004-12-26 01:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-29 01:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-28 07:30 pm (UTC)"What about my trousers?" Pippin asked plaintively as Merry slowly, languidly pushed the flaps of material down his hips.
Merry smiled at him. "What about them?" Down a little further and out he popped, mostly hard already. The trousers were soon disposed of, discarded atop his shirt. He stepped forward, completely naked now, and stood right by the head of the bed. Pippin frankly stared.
"I--uh. I just want to know when you are going to take my trousers off," he managed to ask.
Merry took himself in hand. "Maybe I'm not," he said. He raised one eyebrow and began to stroke himself.
Merry really is a terrible tease, but I think Pippin must like that in him, lol.
no subject
Date: 2004-12-29 01:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-03 03:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-03 04:48 am (UTC)Omigsh!
Date: 2007-02-01 04:43 pm (UTC)Merry, Pippin, Bondage and Chocolate xD
*gah* SO sexy!
Well done!!