"She left me again." Merry felt like crying when these words came out of his mouth. They came out more often than he wanted them to.
"Oh, Merry. I'm sorry. I know how much she meant to you, but maybe now you can forget all about her and move on," said Pippin, Merry's best friend and cousin,
Merry could feel the tears well up behind his eyelids, like they always did when he talked or thought about Estella. Damn those blasted tears, tears of regret, tears of secrets, and tears of unrequited love.
Pippin could hear Merry silently crying from the tree bough not two feet under him. Those tears threatened to become his own. How many times in the last week had he held onto his dear cousin, whispering words of sweet nothings, wiping both of their tears from his face, all because of her. Not one time to many, he thought as he swung himself onto Merry's branch. He may have to suffer, but I'll be damned if I will let him suffer alone. Gathering the slightly shorter hobbit into his arms, he could feel the ever-increasing lightness of his body. Estella was slowly killing him.
"Shh, Merry. It's alright. I've got you."
"Why, Pippin, why? Why does she enjoy tearing my heart to ribbons, then using them to tie back her hair? Why does she long to collect my tears and make herself an ocean to swim in?" Merry sucked in a ragged breath from Pippin's chest. "Why does she love to hurt me?" He asked before dissolving into tears again.
"I'm so sorry, Merry, but I have no answers for you. I would go ask her these things myself, but long ago, you asked me not to, so I can't." Pippin sighed into his cousin's fair curls.
"I wish now that I had the strength to ask her myself, but I lack both the physical and emotioinal aspects of it. I'm afraid that I will not be able to walk home without your guiding hand and support. The never ending support you have shown me through all of this. Thank you so much, Pippin." Merry sat up to look the other hobbit in the eyes. "I doubt I could have made it through the past week without you, Pip. You have no idea how much you mean to me." What a picture he made, flushed cheeks standing out proudly in the pale moonlight, glistening with his crystal drops of pain, his large, beautiful eyes, reflecting a smaller image of Pippin himself, imperfected only by being bloodshot.
Merry's heart squeezed something deep and fierce when he noticed the tears coming from Pippin's eyes. "Pippin, why are you crying?", he asked, mindlessly wiping them away. He did not hear his cousin's answer for the innocent touch of his hand to Pippin's face suddenly drowned out all other feeling and senses.
Merry's lower jaw began to quiver. Pippin reached out with his hand to steady it. "Merry, why are you shaking? Are you cold?"
He wasn't cold. In fact, he felt as if he were on fire. He felt as he did when he was with Estella, but this feeling was unlike anything he had ever felt with her, or any other hobbit-lass. His hand still lightly carressing Pippin's cheek and Pippin's hand now on his face drove all other people, times, places out of his mind. The only thing he thought of was how long he might hold onto this one perfectly mesmerizing moment before Pippin pulled his hand away and drug Merry's from his face.
Pippin could not quite believe the melee of feeling flowing through his body, concentrated mostly in his groin area. His mind played him a story without words, or sounds. A story of every day he and Merry had ever spent together. Merry laughing with him about some silly joke they shared; Merry sliding down the very tree they were in to chase Pippin across these woods, to collapse at the edge of them, flustered and happy; Merry lifting himself out of the Brandywine River to lie on the riverbank and dry before getting dressed. He allowed himself to relish in these images, desperately hanging on to them, adding them to the delicious fire he felt. He must memorize everything before Merry pulled his hand away and drug Pippin's from his face.
Without realizing it, Merry whispered something softly. If the wind had changed direction in that very instant, Pippin may never had heard it, may have never knew what the air caught and played with. "I love you."
Merry closely watched his cousin's face. I hadn't meant to say that. I hadn't. he thought urgently. Please don't hear it. I didn't want to say that. No, that's wrong. I meant it, I wanted to say it, I just don't want Pippin to hear it. Not from me, not me. Merry bit his lip, and released his light hold on Pippin, waiting for the moment to disappear, either with Pip not knowing what he said, or heavens forbid, throwing himself down the tree and running, screaming, never to talk to him again.
Pippin slowly took in the puzzled, slightly distraught look on Merry's face and brought his hand back into his lap.
This is it, Merry thought, he is either going to hit me or run.
Not allowing himself the time to think about what might happen, Pippin finally did something he had wanted to do for far too long without even knowing. He kissed Merry.
The soft lips of Pippin on his own, drastically rough in comparsion, were not at all what he expected. A fist in his face, maybe, or watching the receding back of his best friend, more likely, he was prepared for. But not this. Letting his mind slip away, something he could never do with Estella, he was always worried about doing something wrong and enraging her; was by far the most amazing feeling he had ever had. With his mind out of commission, it left his heart alone to feel and to deal with what was happening. It allowed him to sense the wonder coming from Pippin in waves, the desire and utter lust that covered Pippin's tongue as their tongues spoke in a secret language only body parts know.
Merry's mouth was pure heaven. His tongue moved in a rhythm unlike any song. Pippin drew back from his cousin, breathless. This is it, Pippin thought, he is either going to hit me or run.
Merry gently placed his hands on either sides of Pippin's face and kissed him again, and again, and again. He silently covered his face and neck with soft kisses, moist licks, and harsh nibbles. He drug Pippin onto his lap, covering his own thighs with his, drapping his best friend's legs over his hips and moaning in sheer pleasure as he felt Pippin's ankles being locked behind his back. Pippin threw his arms up over Merry's head and clasped his hands behind his neck, drawing them together as closely as possible. A strangled sob escaped the junction between their mouths. They both wondered if the noise had come from the other. Bless the hobbits, they knew what they were doing, be it from practice, intution, or example, they knew what they were doing.
Pippin was the first to feel the imperceptible sliding as the pair began to fall off of the tree bough. He tried to catch them on the other side of the rough branch, but his sweat slicked hand just increased the speed of their descent, just dug more splinters into the flesh of his palm. All he could do was call out to Merry as they fell, and listen to Merry as he called out his name in return.
"Ow." sighed Merry. There was a sickening smack when their combined weight hit the soft dirt at the tree's roots. Thanking whatever knowlegde made them choose the lowest branch on the tree, they sat up and brushed dirt off of their already dirty clothes, rubbing the new bruises on their already bruised skin.
"I agree." mumbled a sore Pippin, picking a dented leaf out of Merry's curls. Pippin shook his own hair free of the leaves he could not see, but knew were stuck there. When the world had stopped spinning, he turned and grinned at Merry, just to find the other hobbit staring at him. His smile brightened before he said, "Yet another memory to hold onto." Merry's laughter was cut short by Pippin's dagger stare. "Why are you laughing at me, Merry?" he said, evidently hurt.
"You silly Took, you don't even realize that you are bleeding from a gapping wound on your forehead."
Pippin touched a finger to his forehead and sure enough, there was a slash flowing warm, sticky blood. The blood on his finger looked purple in the moonlight. As he sat there gazing at it, he didn't notice Merry ripping a piece of his shirt until it was flush against his head, collecting the blood. The next thing he felt was Merry's hand on his own, bringing the wet finger to the bit of cloth, wiping it off. The touch of Merry on his skin brought him back to his senses, then threw him off again as Merry brought the finger that had been smeared with his life to his mouth, sucking off the rest of Pippin's blood. At first, Pippin thought, He shouldn't do that, it's dangerous, then he thought, It doesn't matter, we already share blood, along with everything else, finally he thought, .......... ,as Merry continued to suck on his finger, long after the blood was gone. Pippin felt Merry's teeth barely graze his finger as he slid it slowly out of his mouth to replace it with his tongue. Merry accepted the kiss with open arms and an open mouth. The faintly coppery taste on his tongue mingled with the taste of warm apples, summer evenings, and ale, Pippin's taste.
Pippin was the first to draw back from the kiss, partially from the akward position Merry's arm was in, still applying pressure to the wound on his head. It made kissing him not unpleasant, but almost clumsy. Merry's half smile floated in front of his face before he leaned back, lying on the ground. How Merry managed to materialize in front of his face before he had fully laid down was beyond him. his half smile became slightly evil as he grinned over him. The small smudge of blood under his bottom lip only added to the illusion. Gazing into the long-lashed eyes above him, he saw a spark of unadulterated lust and longing. He could feel that lust steadly growing in the groove of his hipbone. "I love you like this," Merry's heavy whisper covered his cheeks and stirred the soft hair on his upper lip. One of his soft curls barely brushed the cut on his forehead, the cloth had fallen away, but Pippin hardly felt it, all of his sense of touch was focused on Merry above him.
Merry wondered what words had transformed the cousins' friendship and closeness to this amazing position. He would gladly repeat them all of his life if they gave him Pippin like this, like he had always wanted without being true to himself about it. Lazily drawing patterns with his forefinger on Pippin's cheek, Merry came to the conclusion that he wanted Pippin, he wanted Pippin now. He took his time, slowly, deliberately, giving Pippin the opportunity, which Merry hoped he would not take, to stop the movement of his hand to his friend's breeches, to halt all of the mind-numbing sensations he was feeling. He could not remember the last time Estella had ever made him feel this immense, if she ever had. Pippin's body shifted beneath him, causing his erection to move from Pippin's hip to being flush against Pippin's own harding flesh. Rocking back and forth, he heard Pip make a weird, urgent sound deep in his throat. Merry fastened his lips there, feeling the pulse point quicken as he devoured the faintly sweaty skin, tasting of a cold spring night, a night reserved strictly for cuddling. Merry deftly untied Pippin's breeches and started to tug them down to his knees. Once they were out of the way, he wrapped his hand around Pippin's shaft. A sound he had never heard Pippin make filled his ears. It was a sound of longing. A split second later, Merry was on his back with Pippin straddling him. Obviously, his slow, determined love-making was too much for Pippin to handle. Pippin's hand were around his waist, roughly jerking away the cloth trapping Merry's penis. His hands were shaking with his need. When the pants were wrapped around Merry's knees, Pippin wasted no time impailing himself on to Merry's erect dick. The shriek of pain slightly drowned out all of the pleasure. Pippin had been nowhere near ready.
Pippin could feel his treacherous body start to reject Merry. That pained him more than the harsh, impromptu, entry. He shoved himself down to meet Merry's hips with his own. The cries he hadn't realized he was making increased in intensity and frequency as he forced himself to keep Merry inside of his body. The cries Merry was emitting from below him were getting stronger, louder. Soon, Pippin's insides relaxed and incased Merry like a warm liquid instead of trying to get rid of him. The thrusts began to form a rythym. As Pippin would slide up to the tip of Merry's penis, Merry would thrust down to help him there. When Pippin was on his way down, Merry would surge upwards to fill him completely. Pippin's cries formed words. " Merry, oooohhhhh, Merrrrryyyyyy!!!", he cried as he came, falling on to Merry's chest, satisified
Merry's own cries of " Pip! Uhhhh....Pippin!!" followed suit. He caught the smaller hobbit in his arms and held him. After catching their breaths, the two seperated and laid down together, Pippin using Merry as a pillow, their hands loosely joined over his stomach.
"Merry?", Pippin whispered into his chest.
"Yes?", Merry answered.
"I love you, too."
"Oh, Merry. I'm sorry. I know how much she meant to you, but maybe now you can forget all about her and move on," said Pippin, Merry's best friend and cousin,
Merry could feel the tears well up behind his eyelids, like they always did when he talked or thought about Estella. Damn those blasted tears, tears of regret, tears of secrets, and tears of unrequited love.
Pippin could hear Merry silently crying from the tree bough not two feet under him. Those tears threatened to become his own. How many times in the last week had he held onto his dear cousin, whispering words of sweet nothings, wiping both of their tears from his face, all because of her. Not one time to many, he thought as he swung himself onto Merry's branch. He may have to suffer, but I'll be damned if I will let him suffer alone. Gathering the slightly shorter hobbit into his arms, he could feel the ever-increasing lightness of his body. Estella was slowly killing him.
"Shh, Merry. It's alright. I've got you."
"Why, Pippin, why? Why does she enjoy tearing my heart to ribbons, then using them to tie back her hair? Why does she long to collect my tears and make herself an ocean to swim in?" Merry sucked in a ragged breath from Pippin's chest. "Why does she love to hurt me?" He asked before dissolving into tears again.
"I'm so sorry, Merry, but I have no answers for you. I would go ask her these things myself, but long ago, you asked me not to, so I can't." Pippin sighed into his cousin's fair curls.
"I wish now that I had the strength to ask her myself, but I lack both the physical and emotioinal aspects of it. I'm afraid that I will not be able to walk home without your guiding hand and support. The never ending support you have shown me through all of this. Thank you so much, Pippin." Merry sat up to look the other hobbit in the eyes. "I doubt I could have made it through the past week without you, Pip. You have no idea how much you mean to me." What a picture he made, flushed cheeks standing out proudly in the pale moonlight, glistening with his crystal drops of pain, his large, beautiful eyes, reflecting a smaller image of Pippin himself, imperfected only by being bloodshot.
Merry's heart squeezed something deep and fierce when he noticed the tears coming from Pippin's eyes. "Pippin, why are you crying?", he asked, mindlessly wiping them away. He did not hear his cousin's answer for the innocent touch of his hand to Pippin's face suddenly drowned out all other feeling and senses.
Merry's lower jaw began to quiver. Pippin reached out with his hand to steady it. "Merry, why are you shaking? Are you cold?"
He wasn't cold. In fact, he felt as if he were on fire. He felt as he did when he was with Estella, but this feeling was unlike anything he had ever felt with her, or any other hobbit-lass. His hand still lightly carressing Pippin's cheek and Pippin's hand now on his face drove all other people, times, places out of his mind. The only thing he thought of was how long he might hold onto this one perfectly mesmerizing moment before Pippin pulled his hand away and drug Merry's from his face.
Pippin could not quite believe the melee of feeling flowing through his body, concentrated mostly in his groin area. His mind played him a story without words, or sounds. A story of every day he and Merry had ever spent together. Merry laughing with him about some silly joke they shared; Merry sliding down the very tree they were in to chase Pippin across these woods, to collapse at the edge of them, flustered and happy; Merry lifting himself out of the Brandywine River to lie on the riverbank and dry before getting dressed. He allowed himself to relish in these images, desperately hanging on to them, adding them to the delicious fire he felt. He must memorize everything before Merry pulled his hand away and drug Pippin's from his face.
Without realizing it, Merry whispered something softly. If the wind had changed direction in that very instant, Pippin may never had heard it, may have never knew what the air caught and played with. "I love you."
Merry closely watched his cousin's face. I hadn't meant to say that. I hadn't. he thought urgently. Please don't hear it. I didn't want to say that. No, that's wrong. I meant it, I wanted to say it, I just don't want Pippin to hear it. Not from me, not me. Merry bit his lip, and released his light hold on Pippin, waiting for the moment to disappear, either with Pip not knowing what he said, or heavens forbid, throwing himself down the tree and running, screaming, never to talk to him again.
Pippin slowly took in the puzzled, slightly distraught look on Merry's face and brought his hand back into his lap.
This is it, Merry thought, he is either going to hit me or run.
Not allowing himself the time to think about what might happen, Pippin finally did something he had wanted to do for far too long without even knowing. He kissed Merry.
The soft lips of Pippin on his own, drastically rough in comparsion, were not at all what he expected. A fist in his face, maybe, or watching the receding back of his best friend, more likely, he was prepared for. But not this. Letting his mind slip away, something he could never do with Estella, he was always worried about doing something wrong and enraging her; was by far the most amazing feeling he had ever had. With his mind out of commission, it left his heart alone to feel and to deal with what was happening. It allowed him to sense the wonder coming from Pippin in waves, the desire and utter lust that covered Pippin's tongue as their tongues spoke in a secret language only body parts know.
Merry's mouth was pure heaven. His tongue moved in a rhythm unlike any song. Pippin drew back from his cousin, breathless. This is it, Pippin thought, he is either going to hit me or run.
Merry gently placed his hands on either sides of Pippin's face and kissed him again, and again, and again. He silently covered his face and neck with soft kisses, moist licks, and harsh nibbles. He drug Pippin onto his lap, covering his own thighs with his, drapping his best friend's legs over his hips and moaning in sheer pleasure as he felt Pippin's ankles being locked behind his back. Pippin threw his arms up over Merry's head and clasped his hands behind his neck, drawing them together as closely as possible. A strangled sob escaped the junction between their mouths. They both wondered if the noise had come from the other. Bless the hobbits, they knew what they were doing, be it from practice, intution, or example, they knew what they were doing.
Pippin was the first to feel the imperceptible sliding as the pair began to fall off of the tree bough. He tried to catch them on the other side of the rough branch, but his sweat slicked hand just increased the speed of their descent, just dug more splinters into the flesh of his palm. All he could do was call out to Merry as they fell, and listen to Merry as he called out his name in return.
"Ow." sighed Merry. There was a sickening smack when their combined weight hit the soft dirt at the tree's roots. Thanking whatever knowlegde made them choose the lowest branch on the tree, they sat up and brushed dirt off of their already dirty clothes, rubbing the new bruises on their already bruised skin.
"I agree." mumbled a sore Pippin, picking a dented leaf out of Merry's curls. Pippin shook his own hair free of the leaves he could not see, but knew were stuck there. When the world had stopped spinning, he turned and grinned at Merry, just to find the other hobbit staring at him. His smile brightened before he said, "Yet another memory to hold onto." Merry's laughter was cut short by Pippin's dagger stare. "Why are you laughing at me, Merry?" he said, evidently hurt.
"You silly Took, you don't even realize that you are bleeding from a gapping wound on your forehead."
Pippin touched a finger to his forehead and sure enough, there was a slash flowing warm, sticky blood. The blood on his finger looked purple in the moonlight. As he sat there gazing at it, he didn't notice Merry ripping a piece of his shirt until it was flush against his head, collecting the blood. The next thing he felt was Merry's hand on his own, bringing the wet finger to the bit of cloth, wiping it off. The touch of Merry on his skin brought him back to his senses, then threw him off again as Merry brought the finger that had been smeared with his life to his mouth, sucking off the rest of Pippin's blood. At first, Pippin thought, He shouldn't do that, it's dangerous, then he thought, It doesn't matter, we already share blood, along with everything else, finally he thought, .......... ,as Merry continued to suck on his finger, long after the blood was gone. Pippin felt Merry's teeth barely graze his finger as he slid it slowly out of his mouth to replace it with his tongue. Merry accepted the kiss with open arms and an open mouth. The faintly coppery taste on his tongue mingled with the taste of warm apples, summer evenings, and ale, Pippin's taste.
Pippin was the first to draw back from the kiss, partially from the akward position Merry's arm was in, still applying pressure to the wound on his head. It made kissing him not unpleasant, but almost clumsy. Merry's half smile floated in front of his face before he leaned back, lying on the ground. How Merry managed to materialize in front of his face before he had fully laid down was beyond him. his half smile became slightly evil as he grinned over him. The small smudge of blood under his bottom lip only added to the illusion. Gazing into the long-lashed eyes above him, he saw a spark of unadulterated lust and longing. He could feel that lust steadly growing in the groove of his hipbone. "I love you like this," Merry's heavy whisper covered his cheeks and stirred the soft hair on his upper lip. One of his soft curls barely brushed the cut on his forehead, the cloth had fallen away, but Pippin hardly felt it, all of his sense of touch was focused on Merry above him.
Merry wondered what words had transformed the cousins' friendship and closeness to this amazing position. He would gladly repeat them all of his life if they gave him Pippin like this, like he had always wanted without being true to himself about it. Lazily drawing patterns with his forefinger on Pippin's cheek, Merry came to the conclusion that he wanted Pippin, he wanted Pippin now. He took his time, slowly, deliberately, giving Pippin the opportunity, which Merry hoped he would not take, to stop the movement of his hand to his friend's breeches, to halt all of the mind-numbing sensations he was feeling. He could not remember the last time Estella had ever made him feel this immense, if she ever had. Pippin's body shifted beneath him, causing his erection to move from Pippin's hip to being flush against Pippin's own harding flesh. Rocking back and forth, he heard Pip make a weird, urgent sound deep in his throat. Merry fastened his lips there, feeling the pulse point quicken as he devoured the faintly sweaty skin, tasting of a cold spring night, a night reserved strictly for cuddling. Merry deftly untied Pippin's breeches and started to tug them down to his knees. Once they were out of the way, he wrapped his hand around Pippin's shaft. A sound he had never heard Pippin make filled his ears. It was a sound of longing. A split second later, Merry was on his back with Pippin straddling him. Obviously, his slow, determined love-making was too much for Pippin to handle. Pippin's hand were around his waist, roughly jerking away the cloth trapping Merry's penis. His hands were shaking with his need. When the pants were wrapped around Merry's knees, Pippin wasted no time impailing himself on to Merry's erect dick. The shriek of pain slightly drowned out all of the pleasure. Pippin had been nowhere near ready.
Pippin could feel his treacherous body start to reject Merry. That pained him more than the harsh, impromptu, entry. He shoved himself down to meet Merry's hips with his own. The cries he hadn't realized he was making increased in intensity and frequency as he forced himself to keep Merry inside of his body. The cries Merry was emitting from below him were getting stronger, louder. Soon, Pippin's insides relaxed and incased Merry like a warm liquid instead of trying to get rid of him. The thrusts began to form a rythym. As Pippin would slide up to the tip of Merry's penis, Merry would thrust down to help him there. When Pippin was on his way down, Merry would surge upwards to fill him completely. Pippin's cries formed words. " Merry, oooohhhhh, Merrrrryyyyyy!!!", he cried as he came, falling on to Merry's chest, satisified
Merry's own cries of " Pip! Uhhhh....Pippin!!" followed suit. He caught the smaller hobbit in his arms and held him. After catching their breaths, the two seperated and laid down together, Pippin using Merry as a pillow, their hands loosely joined over his stomach.
"Merry?", Pippin whispered into his chest.
"Yes?", Merry answered.
"I love you, too."