Title: Darkness
Author: Dreamiflame
Rating: R
Notes: This is both slash and hobbits as vampires. If neither of these things are your cup of tea, the back button should be at the top of the page.
Disclaimer: Not mine, much as I wish. All recognizable names belong to Tolkiens estates.
Pippin wasn't used to being afraid of the dark. But now there were rumors spreading through the Shire, rumors of something that hunted livestock at night. Hunted them, and drained them of their blood, leaving their corpses to be found in the morning sun. Somehow, though, Merry had talked him into sneaking out of the Hall after dinner. Out into the dark, with a killer on the loose. Pippin crouched in the pitch-black of the thicket Merry had left him in, and shivered.
It was so dark, and Merry had vanished long before, melting into the shadows to tease Pippin. He was alone, and the light from the half-full moon was little help. He was afraid, and all the gruesome tales he'd laughed about by day filled his mind. He screamed when Merry grabbed his arm, tugging him from the bushes into the dim light from the torches of the Hall.
"You don't really believe there's something out here, do you Pip?" Merry asked, laughing and breathless. Pippin, still shaken from his fright but soothed by the presence of the other hobbit shook his head. In the light, dim though it was, his fears seemed groundless.
"Neither do I!" cried Merry, and taking his hands, he spun Pippin around in mad circles until they collapsed, giggling helplessly, to the grass.
"It's a shame," came a voice from the darkness, and they clutched at each other, suddenly terrified, "that neither one of you believes there is anything out here, out in the dark." Pippin sighed in relief and felt Merry do the same as they recognized the speaker: Frodo. He opened his mouth to give a cheerful insult to his cousin for scaring him, but as Frodo came closer, his words died on his tongue. Pippin scrambled to his feet, and guided by Merry's hands as the other did the same, moved behind Merry.
Frodo looked different, still fey and pale as he always was, but there was something about him, an aura that made Pippin tremble, and press close to Merry's back. Merry shivered as well, but held his ground, watching Frodo as he came ever closer to them.
"After all," Frodo continued, moving nearer and nearer, which caused Merry to begin to shrink away, holding Pippin tight against his back, "there is something out here, in the dark." His blue eyes caught Pippin's, and Pippin gasped. "I am." And the meager light glinted off his fangs as he spoke.
Merry moved further back, but Pippin wasn't moving with him this time. Something about Frodo, about the way Frodo carried himself, called to him. He had always loved his cousin, and now he envied Frodo's lack of fear. For that was what Pippin could see, in Frodo's eyes: Frodo wasn't afraid of the dark.
What must it be like, Pippin wondered, to see with eyes not limited by the feeble light? He slipped around Merry, moving closer to Frodo. What would that be like, to face the night and the dark without apprehension?
"You aren't afraid, are you Frodo?" he asked, shaking off Merry's hand as the older hobbit grabbed his arm. Frodo was still now, so very, very still, a shadow against the dark sky. Pippin reached out to him, and Frodo caught his hand, drawing him close. Pippin's arms went around Frodo's waist, and he could feel the slight heat-chill that came from Frodo's body. He shivered as Frodo gently stroked a hand down his cheek.
"No, my dearest Peregrin, I am not afraid." They both ignored Merry, who tugged futilely on Frodo's arm, which was wrapped securely around Pippin's hips. Frodo smiled and brought his face closer to Pippin's. "Would you like to be like me? Would you like to stop being afraid?"
Merry made a sound, half-choked and cut off when Frodo looked at him. Pippin shivered and closed his eyes, feeling the soft skin of his cousin's hand against his face. He could smell Frodo's scent; rose and night jasmine underlain with a faint tang of copper. His eyes fluttered open again to find Frodo studying him carefully. Pippin licked his lips, suddenly shy, and nodded.
"No," said Merry, and moved forward, pulling again at Frodo's arms. "Take me instead."
Pippin tilted his head, and moved so his neck was closer to Frodo, who smiled and him and kissed his forehead lightly. Then the dark haired hobbit looked up and caught Merry's gaze. "No, Meriadoc." His arm tightened around Pippin, the other hand sliding from the young hobbit's cheek to the back of his head, cradling it gently. "I won't take you instead." Pippin could feel Merry about to protest, but Frodo cut him off, the words soft on the night wind. "You shall be Pippin's," he said, and bit into Pippin's neck.
Pippin cried out, half in pain and half in shock. Merry, his? And the blood flowed out of him into Frodo, until Pippin felt light headed and faint, and clung to Frodo's waist to keep from falling down. Still Frodo drank, and Pippin could feel his heartbeat on his tongue, could feel the blood flowing into Frodo and making him stronger. The dark was all around them, and somewhere far away he could hear Merry sobbing and calling his name. Then everything faded away, and there was only the dark.
Slowly, Pippin opened his eyes. Frodo smiled down at him, blue eyes dancing. "How are you, my dear cousin?" he asked, and Pippin stretched and sat up, feeling strangely content. And hungry. He looked up, green eyes pleading, and Frodo laughed, drawing Merry forward.
Merry's eyes were red with tears, and there was a bruise on his face, but he knelt beside Pippin readily, and smiled slightly when his younger cousin brushed cool fingers on the wound. "Merry, how did you get this?" Pippin asked, drawing Merry close until the older hobbit was almost sitting on his lap.
Merry winced, and shifted so that he wouldn't hurt Pippin. "I, uh, sort of got in Frodo's way," and he glanced at the dark haired hobbit, who smiled and knelt beside them both, hugging both of them together.
"We can all be together," Frodo whispered, his breath stirring the fine hair at Pippin's temple, and Merry shuddered in his lap, reaching out and clutching desperately at Pippin. And Pippin nodded, and caught Merry's face in his hands, and drew his mouth down so that he could feast upon it.
Merry moaned, his hands clenching and unclenching on Pippin's shoulders, and Pippin dipped his tongue inside Merry's mouth, tasting sunshine and berries. Frodo laughed softly in Pippin's ear, and stroked a hand down each of their backs, causing them to arch together. Merry whimpered, grinding down into Pippin's lap, and Pippin gasped, thrusting his hips forward for the friction. Merry's heartbeat was loud in his ears, and he dragged his mouth down to Merry's neck, closing his lips over the pulsing vein.
Frodo moved closer to Pippin, leaning over his shoulder to kiss Merry deeply as Merry moaned, still moving on Pippin. Pippin closed his eyes and breathed Merry in, wondering why Frodo hadn't done this when he had been turned. But it didn't matter, and Pippin opened his mouth, burying his fangs in Merry's neck, feeling Merry gasp and shudder as he came, crying into Frodo's mouth.
The blood was rich and sweet, so sweet, just like Pippin would have imagined Merry would taste, and hot, scorching, flowing through his veins. He thrust up against Merry, and came hard, drinking down the blood as quickly as he could, conscious of Frodo holding him up, stroking Merry's head. Merry's heart was still going so fast, and Pippin drank and drank, wanting more. Finally, the flow stopped, and Merry sagged in his arms. Pippin raised his head and looked at Frodo. "Now what?" he asked, and Frodo leaned into him, licked the blood from his chin and cheeks, then slipped his tongue inside Pippin's mouth, eager for all of the blood he could get.
He drew back reluctantly, and Pippin opened his eyes, feeling drugged with the blood and the afterglow. "Now," Frodo said, sliding his fingers down Pippin's arm till he reached the wrist, "we feed him your blood." He bit delicately into Pippin's wrist, then held the wound over Merry's mouth, letting the blood flow over his lips. Pippin watched Merry feebly swallow the blood, noting the color returning to Merry's cheeks. More and more went into Merry, until Pippin was feeling dizzy, and Merry had drunk almost as much as Pippin had taken. Then Frodo pulled his wrist away from Merry's mouth, and licked at the wound.
Pippin smiled at Frodo, then moved Merry gently off his lap to lie on the grass. The two of them watched, waiting for Merry to wake up, and Pippin looked around, seeing the shadows with something like surprise. He wasn't afraid of the dark anymore, and he turned his attention back to waiting for Merry to join he and Frodo in the darkness.
Author: Dreamiflame
Rating: R
Notes: This is both slash and hobbits as vampires. If neither of these things are your cup of tea, the back button should be at the top of the page.
Disclaimer: Not mine, much as I wish. All recognizable names belong to Tolkiens estates.
Pippin wasn't used to being afraid of the dark. But now there were rumors spreading through the Shire, rumors of something that hunted livestock at night. Hunted them, and drained them of their blood, leaving their corpses to be found in the morning sun. Somehow, though, Merry had talked him into sneaking out of the Hall after dinner. Out into the dark, with a killer on the loose. Pippin crouched in the pitch-black of the thicket Merry had left him in, and shivered.
It was so dark, and Merry had vanished long before, melting into the shadows to tease Pippin. He was alone, and the light from the half-full moon was little help. He was afraid, and all the gruesome tales he'd laughed about by day filled his mind. He screamed when Merry grabbed his arm, tugging him from the bushes into the dim light from the torches of the Hall.
"You don't really believe there's something out here, do you Pip?" Merry asked, laughing and breathless. Pippin, still shaken from his fright but soothed by the presence of the other hobbit shook his head. In the light, dim though it was, his fears seemed groundless.
"Neither do I!" cried Merry, and taking his hands, he spun Pippin around in mad circles until they collapsed, giggling helplessly, to the grass.
"It's a shame," came a voice from the darkness, and they clutched at each other, suddenly terrified, "that neither one of you believes there is anything out here, out in the dark." Pippin sighed in relief and felt Merry do the same as they recognized the speaker: Frodo. He opened his mouth to give a cheerful insult to his cousin for scaring him, but as Frodo came closer, his words died on his tongue. Pippin scrambled to his feet, and guided by Merry's hands as the other did the same, moved behind Merry.
Frodo looked different, still fey and pale as he always was, but there was something about him, an aura that made Pippin tremble, and press close to Merry's back. Merry shivered as well, but held his ground, watching Frodo as he came ever closer to them.
"After all," Frodo continued, moving nearer and nearer, which caused Merry to begin to shrink away, holding Pippin tight against his back, "there is something out here, in the dark." His blue eyes caught Pippin's, and Pippin gasped. "I am." And the meager light glinted off his fangs as he spoke.
Merry moved further back, but Pippin wasn't moving with him this time. Something about Frodo, about the way Frodo carried himself, called to him. He had always loved his cousin, and now he envied Frodo's lack of fear. For that was what Pippin could see, in Frodo's eyes: Frodo wasn't afraid of the dark.
What must it be like, Pippin wondered, to see with eyes not limited by the feeble light? He slipped around Merry, moving closer to Frodo. What would that be like, to face the night and the dark without apprehension?
"You aren't afraid, are you Frodo?" he asked, shaking off Merry's hand as the older hobbit grabbed his arm. Frodo was still now, so very, very still, a shadow against the dark sky. Pippin reached out to him, and Frodo caught his hand, drawing him close. Pippin's arms went around Frodo's waist, and he could feel the slight heat-chill that came from Frodo's body. He shivered as Frodo gently stroked a hand down his cheek.
"No, my dearest Peregrin, I am not afraid." They both ignored Merry, who tugged futilely on Frodo's arm, which was wrapped securely around Pippin's hips. Frodo smiled and brought his face closer to Pippin's. "Would you like to be like me? Would you like to stop being afraid?"
Merry made a sound, half-choked and cut off when Frodo looked at him. Pippin shivered and closed his eyes, feeling the soft skin of his cousin's hand against his face. He could smell Frodo's scent; rose and night jasmine underlain with a faint tang of copper. His eyes fluttered open again to find Frodo studying him carefully. Pippin licked his lips, suddenly shy, and nodded.
"No," said Merry, and moved forward, pulling again at Frodo's arms. "Take me instead."
Pippin tilted his head, and moved so his neck was closer to Frodo, who smiled and him and kissed his forehead lightly. Then the dark haired hobbit looked up and caught Merry's gaze. "No, Meriadoc." His arm tightened around Pippin, the other hand sliding from the young hobbit's cheek to the back of his head, cradling it gently. "I won't take you instead." Pippin could feel Merry about to protest, but Frodo cut him off, the words soft on the night wind. "You shall be Pippin's," he said, and bit into Pippin's neck.
Pippin cried out, half in pain and half in shock. Merry, his? And the blood flowed out of him into Frodo, until Pippin felt light headed and faint, and clung to Frodo's waist to keep from falling down. Still Frodo drank, and Pippin could feel his heartbeat on his tongue, could feel the blood flowing into Frodo and making him stronger. The dark was all around them, and somewhere far away he could hear Merry sobbing and calling his name. Then everything faded away, and there was only the dark.
Slowly, Pippin opened his eyes. Frodo smiled down at him, blue eyes dancing. "How are you, my dear cousin?" he asked, and Pippin stretched and sat up, feeling strangely content. And hungry. He looked up, green eyes pleading, and Frodo laughed, drawing Merry forward.
Merry's eyes were red with tears, and there was a bruise on his face, but he knelt beside Pippin readily, and smiled slightly when his younger cousin brushed cool fingers on the wound. "Merry, how did you get this?" Pippin asked, drawing Merry close until the older hobbit was almost sitting on his lap.
Merry winced, and shifted so that he wouldn't hurt Pippin. "I, uh, sort of got in Frodo's way," and he glanced at the dark haired hobbit, who smiled and knelt beside them both, hugging both of them together.
"We can all be together," Frodo whispered, his breath stirring the fine hair at Pippin's temple, and Merry shuddered in his lap, reaching out and clutching desperately at Pippin. And Pippin nodded, and caught Merry's face in his hands, and drew his mouth down so that he could feast upon it.
Merry moaned, his hands clenching and unclenching on Pippin's shoulders, and Pippin dipped his tongue inside Merry's mouth, tasting sunshine and berries. Frodo laughed softly in Pippin's ear, and stroked a hand down each of their backs, causing them to arch together. Merry whimpered, grinding down into Pippin's lap, and Pippin gasped, thrusting his hips forward for the friction. Merry's heartbeat was loud in his ears, and he dragged his mouth down to Merry's neck, closing his lips over the pulsing vein.
Frodo moved closer to Pippin, leaning over his shoulder to kiss Merry deeply as Merry moaned, still moving on Pippin. Pippin closed his eyes and breathed Merry in, wondering why Frodo hadn't done this when he had been turned. But it didn't matter, and Pippin opened his mouth, burying his fangs in Merry's neck, feeling Merry gasp and shudder as he came, crying into Frodo's mouth.
The blood was rich and sweet, so sweet, just like Pippin would have imagined Merry would taste, and hot, scorching, flowing through his veins. He thrust up against Merry, and came hard, drinking down the blood as quickly as he could, conscious of Frodo holding him up, stroking Merry's head. Merry's heart was still going so fast, and Pippin drank and drank, wanting more. Finally, the flow stopped, and Merry sagged in his arms. Pippin raised his head and looked at Frodo. "Now what?" he asked, and Frodo leaned into him, licked the blood from his chin and cheeks, then slipped his tongue inside Pippin's mouth, eager for all of the blood he could get.
He drew back reluctantly, and Pippin opened his eyes, feeling drugged with the blood and the afterglow. "Now," Frodo said, sliding his fingers down Pippin's arm till he reached the wrist, "we feed him your blood." He bit delicately into Pippin's wrist, then held the wound over Merry's mouth, letting the blood flow over his lips. Pippin watched Merry feebly swallow the blood, noting the color returning to Merry's cheeks. More and more went into Merry, until Pippin was feeling dizzy, and Merry had drunk almost as much as Pippin had taken. Then Frodo pulled his wrist away from Merry's mouth, and licked at the wound.
Pippin smiled at Frodo, then moved Merry gently off his lap to lie on the grass. The two of them watched, waiting for Merry to wake up, and Pippin looked around, seeing the shadows with something like surprise. He wasn't afraid of the dark anymore, and he turned his attention back to waiting for Merry to join he and Frodo in the darkness.