self-rescuing princess (thuri) wrote in ringasm,
self-rescuing princess

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Title: In the Shire Reckoning: 1418
Author: Thuri Brandybuck
Author's Email:
Pairing(s): Merry/Pippin, Frodo/Sam implied
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Smut
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I didn't come up with them. Don't own the quote from The Hobbit. Don't sue me, I have no money.
Warning: Um, slashy hobbit sex?
Authors Note: For ringasm Sugar Daddy challenge for this pic. I'm not happy with this, but as I said in the fandom meme that people putting down their own fics annoyed me, I'm not saying any more on the topic! Takes place two weeks before Frodo's 50th birthday.

Merry felt the hand running through his hair catch on a tangle and tug gently. He shifted slightly, willing Pippin to be still. "What do you think it will be like?" Pippin asked, combing through the snarl with his fingers.

"Why are you still awake, Imp?" Merry asked drowsily, lifting his head from Pippin's lap. He shifted from his side to his back, and laid down again, gazing up. Pippin's face was framed neatly by the leaves of the tree he leaned against. "I thought you'd have drifted off by now."

"I have, Merry. I'm talking in my sleep." Pippin replied with a grin. "This is all an unusually vivid dream."

Merry yawned, and closed his eyes. "Right then. Don't let me keep you from it."


He grinned and opened his eyes again, amused by the exasperated look on Pippin's face. "Fine, Pip. What do I think what will be like?"

"Rivendell," Pippin replied, awe in his voice. "That's where Sam said we're going, isn't it?"

"If we can keep Frodo from sneaking off on his own, yes," Merry stilled the hand that was still running through his hair, kissing it gently and entwining their fingers. "But you know as much as I do."

"Do not." Pippin replied, squeezing his hand. "You've read Old Bilbo's book. And I could never pay attention long enough to listen to that part of his adventure," he said ruefully. "It wasn't as good as the bits with the trolls. Or the dragon."

Merry laughed at Pippin's shamefaced look. "You never have been able to sit still," he agreed. "But Bilbo didn't say much about Rivendell, even in his book. And remember I only had a quick look or two at it myself."

"Well what did he say?"

"Only that he would have been happy to stay there and listen to the tales the elves told forever." Merry paused, bringing up the memory of the stained pages, covered with Bilbo's spidery writing. "That 'the house was perfect, whether you liked food, or sleep, or work, or story-telling, or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all' is how he put it."

Pippin looked down at him in awe. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?" Merry asked, his forehead creasing.

"Remember whole big things like that?" Pippin smoothed the creases with his free hand, then again tangled it in Merry's hair. "You said you only read it once."

Merry shrugged. "I just remember things I've read." He stretched. "But that's everything he wrote. At least everything he wrote about it that I saw. And I never heard much more from him. Had enough trouble sitting still for the boring bits myself."

Pippin seemed to consider this, and Merry let his eyes close again. The autumn afternoon was warm and windless, with the sounds of whining insects and birds all about him. It was the perfect day to laze about and do nothing. He couldn't think of any other place he'd rather be, then here atop Bag End, his head in Pippin's lap, feeling the warmth of his love against him. Even if Pippin did insist on pulling his hair. Merry felt himself begin to drift off again.


He sighed. "Yes, Pippin?"

"Do you think Sam knows more? About what it might be like?"

Groaning, he pulled himself up and leaned back against the tree trunk next to Pippin. "Yes, I'm sure he does. But he wouldn't tell us now. You know he's dried up since Gandalf caught him. And don't even think about asking Frodo," he said, when Pippin opened his mouth again. "We don't want to him to suspect anything. He'd find a way to slip past us for sure, if he knew we're planning on going with him."

Pippin crossed his arms. "Fine. I wasn't going to, anyway." He sighed, and ran a hand through his own curls, mussing them. "I'm bored, Merry. Isn't there anything you want to do?"

Merry rolled his eyes. "I don't suppose sleeping is an option?" he asked hopefully.

"We can sleep tonight." Pippin said firmly.

"I have other plans for then, Imp."

Green eyes widened. "Was that why you want to sleep now?"

"Aye, love." Merry pulled Pippin's mouth to his in a deep kiss. "Because if I have my way we won't get much sleep at all tonight."

Pippin grinned widely, then flopped to the ground and snored vigorously.

"Supper was excellent, Sam, as always," Merry complimented as he pushed his chair back from the table. He rose to clear the dishes.

"Thank you, Mr. Merry," Sam replied, standing and deftly fielding the plate in Merry's hands. "Now sit and have a pipe with Mr. Frodo and Mr. Pippin while I wash up."

Merry snagged the dish back, and stacked Pippin's atop it. "Come now, Sam. You did the cooking, let me do the cleaning. I don't mind and you and Frodo can visit for a bit before you head home."

Frodo laughed as Sam glared. "If Merry's so keen on working, let him do it, Sam. I'm sure he'll manage to keep from breaking the plates."

"It ain't fitting," Sam grumbled, but did as Frodo said.

Merry quickly cleared the table, listening with half an ear as Pippin regaled Frodo and Sam with impressions of his father's latest rage. He retreated to the kitchen to wash up, hardly a difficult task. Sam's shepherds pie had been tasty enough that the hobbits had all but licked their plates clean. He could still hear the muffled sounds of laughter as he dried the last mug.

Frodo entered the kitchen just as he finished placing the plates in the cupboard. "Sam will never forgive you if those dishes aren't sparkling, you know."

Merry grinned. "I know. But it's worth the risk. I'm planning on raiding your larder, and didn't want him to notice the missing crockery."

Frodo raised a dark eyebrow. "Do I want to know? No, of course I don't," he answered himself with a sigh. "You're thirty-six, Merry. When are you going to grow up?"

"Never," Merry replied unrepentantly. "But there's no need for worry, cousin Frodo. I'm just planning a surprise for Pippin. Hope you don't mind?"

Comprehension slowly lit Frodo's face and he laughed. "No, I don't mind. But take care you don't stain the sheets, this time."

"I'll try." His grin softened. "Thank you, Frodo."

"Think nothing of it. And have fun."

"Oh, I plan to. Can you keep Pip occupied for an hour or so? Then tell him I've got dessert waiting in our room?"

"Be happy to. But only an hour. I've convinced Sam to spend the night." He grinned, and left the kitchen.

Merry smiled after him, then gathered the things he needed.

Merry hummed softly to himself as he put the finishing touches on his setup. Oil lamps full with wicks trimmed and chimneys cleaned; Pippin would have plenty of light to see by. Old blanket spread across Frodo's precious sheets, pillows plumped and ready; Pippin would have plenty of room to work in. Tray of sweet whipped cream, honey, and other goodies full and waiting at the foot of the bed; Pippin would have plenty of uses and ideas for those. Small bottle of oil warmed and sitting on the bedside table; Pippin would know exactly what to do with that. Yes, Merry decided, licking suddenly dry lips in anticipation, everything was ready. Except for him.

He shucked off his clothes, folding them neatly. He settled himself in the middle of the bed, laying back on the pillows. A quick glance at the clock over the mantle told him he had maybe five minutes before Frodo would send Pippin along. Just enough time, then.

Merry spread a dollop of the whipped cream strategically across his groin. Firmly suppressing the giggles that rose in his throat at the sight, he added some berries and lay back. He spread his legs, put his hands behind his head, and waited for Pippin's footsteps outside their door.

He didn't have to wait long. "Merry? Frodo said you had dessert in here . . . " Pippin's voice trailed off at the spectacle in front of him.

"And here it is."

Pippin swept his gaze up and down Merry's naked form, but stopped abruptly at the cream and berry covered cock. He lost what little control he had over his giggles, and was soon laughing loudly. After a moment's shock, Merry joined in.

Finally, Pippin got himself under control. "You're my dessert?" he asked, between dying giggles, as he removed his weskit and unbuttoned his shirt.

Merry watched as Pippin removed the garment and let it drop to the ground, his mouth suddenly dry. "Actually," he said, clearing his throat, "I thought I could be the plate. But if you wanted to eat me, too, I can't say as I'd mind."

Pippin raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" He wriggled out of his trousers, and left them in a pile on the floor. Wearing only his scarf, he joined Merry on the bed. "I might, at that," he said softly, running a hand up Merry's thigh, gathering cream and a single berry. He sucked his fingers clean, and Merry shivered, hardening further at the sight. Pippin grinned, and leaned down over him, tongue extended. He went on to very carefully retrieve every one of the scattered berries without actually touching Merry's skin.

Merry laughed. "Imp."

"Yes?" Pippin asked, looking up. He had a spot of whipped cream on his nose.

Merry sat up and licked it off. "I love you."

"Oh," Pippin smiled. "Good. I love you, too." He gently pushed Merry back against the pillows. "But you're interrupting my dessert. Plates shouldn't move. So don't."

Merry grinned, and tried to stay still as Pippin returned his attention downward. He twitched as hot breath ghosted against his skin, and bit his lip as Pippin dragged his tongue lightly up the crease of his thigh. Pippin began licking up the cream in earnest, and it wasn't long before Merry was gasping beneath him as his tongue trailed up and down, over and around his cock, balls and the surrounding skin.

Merry was rapidly losing himself in the sight of Pippin between his legs, and the feel of his tongue. He made a noise of protest when Pippin pulled away, sitting back on his heels. "Why'd you stop?"

"I'm finished. No more berries, no more cream, see?"

"There's a whole tray of them right there. Besides, doesn't mean you had to stop. I wouldn't mind."

"I'm sure you wouldn't." Pippin gazed down at him, and Merry felt a thrill at the look in his eyes. It was a look that had often gotten them in trouble when they were children. A look that had sought out pranks and stolen pies. But, now that they were older, that green glint had come to mean something else entirely. The last time he'd seen it, he'd barely been able to move the next day. Pippin had an idea. "You like watching me, don't you?" Pippin asked, his fingers making loops and whirls on Merry's belly.

"Yes," Merry agreed, wondering where this was going.

"Hmmm." Pippin pulled his scarf off, holding it in his hands and seeming to consider something. "Why?"

Merry drew in his breath as Pippin let the fringe of the soft wool trail over his cock. "I like to know when you're going to do something like that," he replied.

Pippin grinned. "I want to surprise you tonight." he said. "I don't think I want you knowing what I'm going to do next."

Merry raised an eyebrow. "How're you planning to manage that?"

"Gonna blindfold you, Merry-love. With this." He held up the scarf, and Merry shivered. "All right?" Merry nodded, biting his bottom lip as Pippin took the scarf and wrapping it around his head, shielding his eyes. "Can you see anything?"

"No." His eyes strained against the sudden darkness, but couldn't pierce it.

"Good. Now lay back and relax. Trust me."

Merry did as he was told, listening intently to try and tell where Pippin was and what he was doing. But the muffled rustling was not enough to go by.

Something warm and thick drizzled its way over his chest. He jumped at the contact, but stilled immediately. Breathing deeply, he recognized the scent. "Found the honey then?" he asked with a grin.

He heard Pippin chuckle softly, and suddenly his tongue was on Merry's chest, hot and wet. He arched up into the touch, gasping softly as Pippin flicked a nipple, then scraped it with his teeth.

Merry gradually lost track of what exactly Pippin was eating off of him, as touch overwhelmed his other senses. He merely enjoyed the feelings, made more intense by the darkness. Still, he wasn't prepared for the oily hand that stroked him, once, twice then disappeared. It was quickly replaced by Pippin lowering himself onto Merry's cock.

Groaning, Merry arched himself up and deeper into Pippin, who cried out. "Shhhh," Merry managed, ceasing his thrust.

"Don't have to," Pippin panted. "Frodo won't mind."

Merry grinned, remembering they were at Bag End. He let himself cry aloud as Pippin rode him, slipping tighthotwet up and down, over and over. He fumbled for Pippin's cock, squeezing when he found it.

Pippin rode him and he stroked Pippin, moving together in a now familiar rhythm. He squeezed, twisting his wrist, and Pippin cried out again as he came. His muscles clenched all around Merry, driving him over the edge.

It wasn't until Merry saw Pippin's eyes that he realized the blindfold was gone. Pippin grinned down at him, eyes crinkled and face creased with laugh lines.

"So," Merry asked, pulling him down for a kiss, "how did you like your dessert?"
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