"Now you've got some good solid food in you, you'll feel much, much better." Pippin was kneeling on the hearth, breaking up twigs with his hands; Merry winced at the popping sounds but said nothing, pleased to see Pippin building the fire with at least half as much care as he himself would have put into the task. He did feel better now that he had eaten, and his throbbing head was now resting on a cushion on the couch, his feet up at the other end; but he still felt uneasily that there was more that needed to be said. He knew also that Pippin felt it too, and that Pippin was unwilling to talk about it, as he had filled the past hour with inconsequential talk and actions - cooking, clearing dishes, making the fire - knowing that Merry would not interrupt his work to talk about anything important. Merry realised that the unwillingness to stop being busy was the reason Pippin was building the fire so carefully, without his usual quick and clumsy methods, and smiled.
"There! That'll have to do. I can't get any more wood today, the storm's soaked everything." sighed Pippin.
"The storm?" asked Merry in surprise. "Was there a storm last night?"
"There certainly was. My cloak is damp still," Pippin smiled to himself. "I'm not surprised you don't remember, though." He rocked back on his heels, satisfied as the flames began licking at the edges of his carefully built pile of wood, burning steady and bright within. "Good! You'll be warm in no time."
Merry looked at Pippin's tousled coppery curls lit up by firelight, his slim fingers, his delicate-featured face with its sweet curve of mouth, and sighed. Pippin looked over anxiously. "Are you all right?"
"Yes," Merry smiled. "You're doing a good job at being nursemaid, Pippin. Come over here." He held out a hand.
"I should wash the dishes -"
"No," said Merry firmly. "I need you here."
Pippin crawled the few feet over to the couch and sat on the floor facing Merry, legs crossed, face turned up inquiringly. Merry marvelled at the aftereffects of the earlier tears which seemed to have softened Pippin's face, blurring the sharp Took features and making the mouth seem gentler and more vulnerable. He felt as if someone had taken his heart in a fist and squeezed it.
"Thank you for looking after me so well," he said.
Pippin smiled. "What with all the times you've looked after me, it's about time I returned the favour."
Merry swung his legs over the side of the couch and put his feet on the floor; he put a hand on each of Pippin's shoulders, and smiled as Pippin came close enough that his hair brushed Merry's knee. He let his fingers ghost over Pippin's cheek. "Hmmm. I want you to stay and talk with me a while, now, if you will." He drew a deep breath. "If you think it won't upset you too much."
Pippin looked at him steadily, his face quiet, only the tiniest quiver in his full lower lip betraying his emotions.
"Do you think you can talk now?" Merry began stroking Pippin's soft hair, gently combing his fingers through it, and Pippin sighed and closed his eyes. Merry smiled to himself; he'd finger-combed Pippin's hair like this to soothe him ever since his cousin was a toddler, and it gladdened his heart that Pippin still responded to the simple gesture.
"I won't run away again, if that's what you're thinking," said Pippin, eyes closed, "but I think... I think it will be very hard for me to talk. And... and I still don't know what to say."
Merry looked down at his cousin, head tilted back, eyes closed, long lashes like fine pen-strokes laid on the fine clear flesh of his face. He felt a rush of tenderness and wanted to take Pippin in his arms, but instead kept his fingers working gently in the soft coppery hair. "You were able to start talking about it last night, before I stopped you."
He felt, rather than saw, the change in Pippin's attitude; he could sense the sudden tension through the slight contact his fingertips had with Pippin's head. It travelled up through the pores of his skin and thrummed in his blood, and he felt it as a tightening of every nerve and muscle in his body. He took a deep breath and swallowed around the lump in his throat and his heart began to flutter in his chest like a trapped bird, but it had to be said, no matter how painful. He had no doubt that Pippin loved him, that their hearts were twined together so closely that it wasn't possible to tell where one ended and the other began; but that one kiss lay like a heavy veil between them, untouched and unspoken of, and it had to be gotten out of the way.
"I'm sorry about that. Dear Pippin. I'm so sorry I did that."
"Sorry?" asked Pippin; his voice had gone low again, but he sat up straighter and opened his eyes. "What are you sorry for, exactly?"
Merry closed his eyes, concentrating on the silky strands slipping through his fingers, on the sound of Pippin's uneven breathing, trying not to let his emotions overwhelm him. He felt the fear beginning to seep through him and paused, trying to calm his breathing.
"If you want to talk about it," said Pippin, his voice taut as a bowstring, "you have to *talk*, Merry. Tell me."
Merry felt a painful jolt go through him, and felt for a moment as if he was going to be sick again. How could it be so difficult to say such a simple thing?
"When I kissed you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you even more."
Pippin drew a deep, shuddering breath. "It did upset me."
"I'm so sorry, Pip. Can you forgive me?"
"You could never do anything that I couldn't forgive you for."
Merry opened his eyes, looking straight into Pippin's green ones, and forgot everything he had been going to say; Pippin was smiling, a little sadly, eyes shining. Merry swallowed and stammered out "I didn't mean to force it on you like that, Pip. I didn't know I was going to kiss you until I did. You looked so - " Merry closed his eyes again, so that he wasn't looking at Pippin any more, so that those shining eyes weren't drawing him towards them. "You looked so grieved, and so beautiful, and all I wanted was to look after you and love you, and comfort you, and it breaks my heart that I upset you instead. You're the most precious thing in the world to me. And I want you to know that you're safe with me, that I will never frighten you like that again."
"Frighten me?" Pippin's voice had lost some of the tension, but Merry still couldn't open his eyes. This was the moment he had been dreading.
"It was wrong of me, but it just happened, I didn't think, and then it felt so good - " He felt himself going red, his ears hot and burning to the very tips. "I would have stopped right away if I realised you didn't want to. I didn't mean to force you into something you don't want from me. All I need is to be with you, Pippin, as friends, as we've always been. I won't ask for anything else."
There was a long pause, during which Merry felt the fear that had been coursing through him sink deep into his very bones; he felt sodden with weariness and dread, and wondered if he would ever be able to move from the couch.
There was a small sound, and Merry started - was that a sob, had he made Pippin cry again? He raised his chin, but before he was able to lift his eyes he found Pippin in his arms. Pippin's arms were around him, a hand raised to the back of Merry's head and tangled in his curls, and Pippin's lips were on his, warm and so soft. They were falling backwards, tangled together, and Pippin's hand on the back of his head could not cushion the shock of his head thumping against the back of the couch; but the kiss was filling him with a marvellous liquid warmth, sending little shivers through him. His blood was shot through with something magical, something sparkling and clear and warm like the Brandywine on a summer's day. Pippin's tongue was sliding velvety against his, and then Pippin was sucking at his lower lip, and Merry couldn't breathe. His hands flew up of their own volition and caught in Pippin's hair, trying to steady his head and make him pull back a little; he heard a low noise and realised a second later that it was a moan from his own throat.
"Oh Merry," breathed Pippin, breaking off the kiss suddenly and sliding onto the couch by Merry's side. Then his lips were back, gentle suction trailing hot and damp from Merry's ear along his jawline and up from chin to mouth. Merry shivered and bit his lip to stop himself crying out; he put a hand out and tugged at Pippin's curls, wanting to ask - what? What was it that they had been talking about, what did he need to know?
Pippin licked the corner of Merry's mouth with delicate little flicks of his tongue, and Merry found there was no more need for words. Pippin's hands moved swift and purposeful over him, unbuttoning and unfastening and caressing and stroking, and he was caught in a ridiculous tangle of sleeves and arms and cloth; they both began laughing, giddy and helpless, and Merry sat up and let Pippin unentangle them both, and then sighed as Pippin came into his arms and pressed them together skin to skin. He'd touched Pippin's bare skin before, of course, but only with his hands; having that naked body stretched all along his own was wonderful, a revelation and a temptation all at once, and he ghosted his palms down Pippin's back. Pippin's skin was smooth as butter, yielding gently to the press of fingers; Merry could feel the fine layer of hobbit-fleshiness beginning to renew itself over the hard bone and firm muscle that had slimmed Pippin's body down after a year of hard living and travelling and fighting.
Pippin peppered kisses down Merry's chest as easily as water spilling from the lip of a cup, then kissed his way back up to Merry's mouth again, looking intently into his face. Merry gazed into Pippin's eyes and thought of leaves wet with rain and the sun shining on them; he tangled both hands in Pippin's hair, finding his breath snatched away from him in wonder at Pippin's unguarded face. He felt as if his entire being was glowing with the joy of Pippin's presence, soaking in the strength of Pippin's slim arms, the sun and storm in his eyes, the intricate tangle of curls hanging over his face. Pippin's fingers over Merry's skin were more articulate than spoken words; they spelled out love and trust and desire as they danced up Merry's thigh, swept over his collarbone, entwined with one of Merry's own hands and tenderly caressed his palm before drawing his fingers down along the slim length of Pippin's torso.
They rocked together, firm and gentle, and rocking turned into pressing and pushing and thrusting, until they were moving together so fast and breathlessly that it was almost like flying. Merry watched Pippin's face flicker and blur as his bones and flesh and nerves lit up with a hot bright burst of pleasure that coursed dizzily through him; he opened his eyes and looked into Pippin's, and they fell into one another's eyes and dissolved into tender peace.
TBC...
***
"There! That'll have to do. I can't get any more wood today, the storm's soaked everything." sighed Pippin.
"The storm?" asked Merry in surprise. "Was there a storm last night?"
"There certainly was. My cloak is damp still," Pippin smiled to himself. "I'm not surprised you don't remember, though." He rocked back on his heels, satisfied as the flames began licking at the edges of his carefully built pile of wood, burning steady and bright within. "Good! You'll be warm in no time."
Merry looked at Pippin's tousled coppery curls lit up by firelight, his slim fingers, his delicate-featured face with its sweet curve of mouth, and sighed. Pippin looked over anxiously. "Are you all right?"
"Yes," Merry smiled. "You're doing a good job at being nursemaid, Pippin. Come over here." He held out a hand.
"I should wash the dishes -"
"No," said Merry firmly. "I need you here."
Pippin crawled the few feet over to the couch and sat on the floor facing Merry, legs crossed, face turned up inquiringly. Merry marvelled at the aftereffects of the earlier tears which seemed to have softened Pippin's face, blurring the sharp Took features and making the mouth seem gentler and more vulnerable. He felt as if someone had taken his heart in a fist and squeezed it.
"Thank you for looking after me so well," he said.
Pippin smiled. "What with all the times you've looked after me, it's about time I returned the favour."
Merry swung his legs over the side of the couch and put his feet on the floor; he put a hand on each of Pippin's shoulders, and smiled as Pippin came close enough that his hair brushed Merry's knee. He let his fingers ghost over Pippin's cheek. "Hmmm. I want you to stay and talk with me a while, now, if you will." He drew a deep breath. "If you think it won't upset you too much."
Pippin looked at him steadily, his face quiet, only the tiniest quiver in his full lower lip betraying his emotions.
"Do you think you can talk now?" Merry began stroking Pippin's soft hair, gently combing his fingers through it, and Pippin sighed and closed his eyes. Merry smiled to himself; he'd finger-combed Pippin's hair like this to soothe him ever since his cousin was a toddler, and it gladdened his heart that Pippin still responded to the simple gesture.
"I won't run away again, if that's what you're thinking," said Pippin, eyes closed, "but I think... I think it will be very hard for me to talk. And... and I still don't know what to say."
Merry looked down at his cousin, head tilted back, eyes closed, long lashes like fine pen-strokes laid on the fine clear flesh of his face. He felt a rush of tenderness and wanted to take Pippin in his arms, but instead kept his fingers working gently in the soft coppery hair. "You were able to start talking about it last night, before I stopped you."
He felt, rather than saw, the change in Pippin's attitude; he could sense the sudden tension through the slight contact his fingertips had with Pippin's head. It travelled up through the pores of his skin and thrummed in his blood, and he felt it as a tightening of every nerve and muscle in his body. He took a deep breath and swallowed around the lump in his throat and his heart began to flutter in his chest like a trapped bird, but it had to be said, no matter how painful. He had no doubt that Pippin loved him, that their hearts were twined together so closely that it wasn't possible to tell where one ended and the other began; but that one kiss lay like a heavy veil between them, untouched and unspoken of, and it had to be gotten out of the way.
"I'm sorry about that. Dear Pippin. I'm so sorry I did that."
"Sorry?" asked Pippin; his voice had gone low again, but he sat up straighter and opened his eyes. "What are you sorry for, exactly?"
Merry closed his eyes, concentrating on the silky strands slipping through his fingers, on the sound of Pippin's uneven breathing, trying not to let his emotions overwhelm him. He felt the fear beginning to seep through him and paused, trying to calm his breathing.
"If you want to talk about it," said Pippin, his voice taut as a bowstring, "you have to *talk*, Merry. Tell me."
Merry felt a painful jolt go through him, and felt for a moment as if he was going to be sick again. How could it be so difficult to say such a simple thing?
"When I kissed you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you even more."
Pippin drew a deep, shuddering breath. "It did upset me."
"I'm so sorry, Pip. Can you forgive me?"
"You could never do anything that I couldn't forgive you for."
Merry opened his eyes, looking straight into Pippin's green ones, and forgot everything he had been going to say; Pippin was smiling, a little sadly, eyes shining. Merry swallowed and stammered out "I didn't mean to force it on you like that, Pip. I didn't know I was going to kiss you until I did. You looked so - " Merry closed his eyes again, so that he wasn't looking at Pippin any more, so that those shining eyes weren't drawing him towards them. "You looked so grieved, and so beautiful, and all I wanted was to look after you and love you, and comfort you, and it breaks my heart that I upset you instead. You're the most precious thing in the world to me. And I want you to know that you're safe with me, that I will never frighten you like that again."
"Frighten me?" Pippin's voice had lost some of the tension, but Merry still couldn't open his eyes. This was the moment he had been dreading.
"It was wrong of me, but it just happened, I didn't think, and then it felt so good - " He felt himself going red, his ears hot and burning to the very tips. "I would have stopped right away if I realised you didn't want to. I didn't mean to force you into something you don't want from me. All I need is to be with you, Pippin, as friends, as we've always been. I won't ask for anything else."
There was a long pause, during which Merry felt the fear that had been coursing through him sink deep into his very bones; he felt sodden with weariness and dread, and wondered if he would ever be able to move from the couch.
There was a small sound, and Merry started - was that a sob, had he made Pippin cry again? He raised his chin, but before he was able to lift his eyes he found Pippin in his arms. Pippin's arms were around him, a hand raised to the back of Merry's head and tangled in his curls, and Pippin's lips were on his, warm and so soft. They were falling backwards, tangled together, and Pippin's hand on the back of his head could not cushion the shock of his head thumping against the back of the couch; but the kiss was filling him with a marvellous liquid warmth, sending little shivers through him. His blood was shot through with something magical, something sparkling and clear and warm like the Brandywine on a summer's day. Pippin's tongue was sliding velvety against his, and then Pippin was sucking at his lower lip, and Merry couldn't breathe. His hands flew up of their own volition and caught in Pippin's hair, trying to steady his head and make him pull back a little; he heard a low noise and realised a second later that it was a moan from his own throat.
"Oh Merry," breathed Pippin, breaking off the kiss suddenly and sliding onto the couch by Merry's side. Then his lips were back, gentle suction trailing hot and damp from Merry's ear along his jawline and up from chin to mouth. Merry shivered and bit his lip to stop himself crying out; he put a hand out and tugged at Pippin's curls, wanting to ask - what? What was it that they had been talking about, what did he need to know?
Pippin licked the corner of Merry's mouth with delicate little flicks of his tongue, and Merry found there was no more need for words. Pippin's hands moved swift and purposeful over him, unbuttoning and unfastening and caressing and stroking, and he was caught in a ridiculous tangle of sleeves and arms and cloth; they both began laughing, giddy and helpless, and Merry sat up and let Pippin unentangle them both, and then sighed as Pippin came into his arms and pressed them together skin to skin. He'd touched Pippin's bare skin before, of course, but only with his hands; having that naked body stretched all along his own was wonderful, a revelation and a temptation all at once, and he ghosted his palms down Pippin's back. Pippin's skin was smooth as butter, yielding gently to the press of fingers; Merry could feel the fine layer of hobbit-fleshiness beginning to renew itself over the hard bone and firm muscle that had slimmed Pippin's body down after a year of hard living and travelling and fighting.
Pippin peppered kisses down Merry's chest as easily as water spilling from the lip of a cup, then kissed his way back up to Merry's mouth again, looking intently into his face. Merry gazed into Pippin's eyes and thought of leaves wet with rain and the sun shining on them; he tangled both hands in Pippin's hair, finding his breath snatched away from him in wonder at Pippin's unguarded face. He felt as if his entire being was glowing with the joy of Pippin's presence, soaking in the strength of Pippin's slim arms, the sun and storm in his eyes, the intricate tangle of curls hanging over his face. Pippin's fingers over Merry's skin were more articulate than spoken words; they spelled out love and trust and desire as they danced up Merry's thigh, swept over his collarbone, entwined with one of Merry's own hands and tenderly caressed his palm before drawing his fingers down along the slim length of Pippin's torso.
They rocked together, firm and gentle, and rocking turned into pressing and pushing and thrusting, until they were moving together so fast and breathlessly that it was almost like flying. Merry watched Pippin's face flicker and blur as his bones and flesh and nerves lit up with a hot bright burst of pleasure that coursed dizzily through him; he opened his eyes and looked into Pippin's, and they fell into one another's eyes and dissolved into tender peace.
TBC...
***