The FINAL chapter of Honor
Title: For the Future
Story: "Honor", Chapter 8
Series: Of Hobbits and Men
Author: Diamond (juweldom@yahoo.com )
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Merry/Pippin, Pippin/Faramir
Warnings: interspecies
Category: Drama, Romance
Disclaimer: All characters herein belong to Tolkien (sob!); I make no monetary profit from this but give me feedback and I'm a happy lass.
Summary: Pippin thinks of a way to prove to Merry he's all grown up
2366 wds.
Previous chapters and tales in the series are on my website here.
*****
Chapter 8: For the Future
It was a few days later, when Pippin's injuries were finally healed enough that he could do almost all the things he had before, that he finally just decided he would have to confront Merry on his own, because Merry never spoke of what had happened, and worse, he hadn't tried to kiss Pippin since the little incident with Sam and Frodo. Was he having second thoughts? Pippin wondered. And he saw Faramir and the lovely lady Eowyn, and that only reminded him that he had a confession to make to Merry, and it was all so very awkward so he put it off.
But he couldn't put things off any longer. He wanted Merry. His body was telling him that in no uncertain terms and sleep was harder and harder to come by. He found Merry sitting under a tree one day, soon after the Rohirrin party had left lead by their new king Eomer, He seemed oddly preoccupied with something--a piece of his armor, Pippin saw. Pippin sat down and Merry looked up, startled.
"Do you miss them?" Pippin asked. Merry blinked at him, so he elaborated. "The Rohirrim I mean; I mean you were alone with them for a while--you must have made some friends. Do you miss them?"
Merry shrugged, rubbing the piece with his thumb. "Well yes, a little--though Lady Eowyn's here of course. More I think I miss Theoden." There was something in his face that said it was more than that, but Pippin let it pass. It truly was a shame about the old king.
Well now they came to it. What should he say? It looked like Merry was experiencing a similar problem, rubbing the armguard even harder, brows drawn together in almost a frown. Had he done something wrong recently? Pippin tried to think of something.
"I don't deserve you," Merry said quietly, so quietly Pippin almost wasn't sure he'd heard right.
"What? Why of all the Tom foolery! Why ever not?" Pippin reached over and took Merry's hand, rubbing it, trying to soothe his friend. Merry wasn't looking at him, and that was distressing Pippin, a great deal. He kissed Merry's knuckles, looking at him beseechingly.
Merry glanced up at him, and there was pain and something almost like fear in his eyes. "I slept with someone--someone else."
Of all the things Merry could have possibly said, nothing could have shocked Pippin more. He felt the blow, heavy to his heart. What did this mean? "Oh." He didn't let go of Merry's hand, but gripped it even tighter, waiting to hear the rest, dreading it.
"But I don't love him," Merry hurriedly added, seeing the look on Pippin's face.
"Oh?" Had this happened recently, Pippin wanted to know, and again, why was Merry telling him now?
Now that Merry had started, the words started spilling out of him, as he looked into Pippin's face imploringly, his own grip strong on Pippin's hand. "It was Eomer--he helped me. You see--the orcs." Merry shuddered. "The orcs hurt me, Pippin. In, well, very personal ways. That was why I couldn't do more than kiss you, after. I couldn't bear to be touched. Eomer helped me with that."
The orcs--suddenly Merry's reaction made sense, that kiss, that Pippin had wanted to be so much more. But Eomer? Pippin could hardly fault Merry for his taste, but it still astonished him. "So . . . you bedded him?" Big strong Eomer. Wow.
Merry squirmed, looking uncomfortable. "Yes."
Pippin chewed on his lip, waiting for more, but Merry didn't seem to be giving it. "So . . . what does this mean exactly? Does it mean you can be touched?" Did it mean Merry wanted Pippin to touch him?
Merry blushed a little, smiling, and reached out his other hand to cover Pippin's, leaving the guard piece on the grass. "Yes. You see, Pippin, I wanted to be healed for you. For all of you." He reached up to brush a curl from Pippin's cheek, and then trailed his hand down, hovering on Pippin's chest, as if afraid to venture further.
Pippin stared down at the hand, then at Merry, and he was thinking of his own admission, wondering if that would change things, wondering how Merry would take the news, now that Pippin finally knew what the problem had been. "Um . . . I can forgive you that."
Relief was obvious on Merry's face. "Good."
Pippin raised his hand to put a finger on Merry's lips. "Merry . . . I . . ." Had it been this hard for Merry to get the words out? "I was with another too." He saw the look of shock on Merry's face, and he couldn't bear that, couldn't bear it if Merry misunderstood and walked away, so he plunged headlong into the explanation, "I wanted to learn! Since you always said I was too young for it; I wanted to show you that I could. But--he didn't take me. He said my virginity was a gift I should only give to the one I love. That one is you. It's always been you."
Merry was still staring at him, with sort of an awestruck look, and well that was better than a heartbroken look at least, Pippin reasoned. Wasn't it? Merry opened his mouth to speak but then didn't, looking down to their hands still held in Pippin's lap, his hand on Pippin's chest. If it stayed there much longer, Pippin was sure his heart was going to leap right out. "So you took him?"
It shouldn't have made him blush. But Pippin did. "Aye."
Merry seemed to chew on that for a moment. Then he asked, "Who was it?"
Pippin blushed deeper, wishing he knew for sure what Merry was thinking. "It was Lord Faramir."
Merry blinked in astonishment. "Oh, he's handsome."
Pippin brightened. "Aye, he is!"
At that, Merry gave a little smile, and Pippin's heart began beating hard again, with hope that perhaps this too could be forgiven, that perhaps they could continue to go forward. He fidgeted a little with a bit of grass on his breeches, looking at Merry cautiously, afraid to say more. But he knew he had to. "I know I shouldn't have done it, though. I just . . . I'd sort of given up hope."
Merry looked down uncomfortably, and Pippin cursed his brash words. He was about to recant everything and just throw himself at Merry's feet when Merry suddenly spoke. "I understand--I certainly didn't give you much cause, did I?" He looked up, and Pippin could see there were tears in his eyes. "I'll forgive you if you forgive me, Pip. I do love you. I want to be with you."
Pippin threw himself at his friend, hugging him hard. "And I want to be with you! I've always loved you." He kissed Merry on the cheek, holding him a moment before looking at his face again. "So does this mean you can take me--you know--soon?"
Merry laughed, and standing up, he pulled Pippin up as well. "Yes. Now. I've only been wanting to get that off my chest, you know, before asking you . . ." He didn't need to say more, for already Pippin was pulling him along, trying to hurry them along to their room. He'd waited quite long enough.
They barely made it to their room before Pippin was pulling off his waistcoat and suspenders, unbuttoning his shirt, all while trying to kiss Merry, which was very difficult indeed as Merry was trying to do the same to undress himself. They made it to the bed before Pippin tripped over Merry’s feet, landing them both in a pile on the soft down mattress.
Pippin looked at Merry abashedly, but Merry only chuckled and pulled him in for a kiss, long and sweet, and so very long overdue. Pippin for his part kissed back eagerly, running his hands over Merry’s shoulders, his back, his arse-every part that he could reach up to and including his cock which was hard and jutting up early from its nest of curls; he wrapped his hand around and stroked him slowly as they traded turns exploring each others mouths.
Merry finally put his hand over Pippin’s panting a little. “I’ve waited this long-I don’t think I can wait much longer if you keep doing that.” He kissed the tip of Pippin’s nose to soothe the warning, maneuvering them so that Pippin was underneath and to where he could reach for something in the drawer of the night table, a small bottle of oil for massages, Pippin realized. Ah yes-he remembered that from Faramir. He squirmed a little, feeling a surge of heat.
“Please, yes,” Pippin said, touching himself instead, slowly stroking his member and giving Merry a coquettish smile. It must have worked, because Merry groaned, even though Pippin hadn’t touched him.
“You are going to be insatiable, aren’t you.”
“Well I am several years younger than you.”
“You’ll be the death of me!” But Merry was grinning as he said it.
“I hope not,” Pippin said in a softer voice, reaching up to stroke Merry’s hair. “I hope we have a very long life together.”
Merry said nothing, but he didn’t need to; the love in his eyes said more than enough, as he poured the oil into his hand and moved it down to spread the slippery substance over Pippin’s entrance, massaging it in, gently testing with his finger. Pippin squirmed again. “Yes. Please.” Hadn’t he already said he was ready for this?
Merry pressed his finger in, and Pippin gasped at the thick feeling of it, the rough calluses from weapons training making what he felt was a most interesting sensation, rubbing things in a most wonderful way. Pippin groaned, clutching at Merry’s shoulders, urging him on. Merry smiled and kissed him, twisting his finger back and forth, ignoring Pippin’s attempts to move things along. “I want this first time to be perfect for you. No pain.”
Pippin could appreciate that sentiment; he really could. But it was so hard to wait even another second. He tried relaxing, just enjoying the sensation for what it was. It was quite naughty, dirty even, and he rather liked it. He gasped when Merry worked in a second finger, feeling a flash of pain, but the need soon overpowered any discomfort. Fingers were lovely, but he really wanted to feel a different part of Merry inside him.
“Almost,” Merry whispered. He worked in a third finger, and Pippin whimpered, because that really was quite tight, and he was quite convinced Merry’s cock would feel much better that three fingers held together, no matter what Merry thought of it. But then something brushed something, and made him gasp, and it was like sweet honey had just been poured all over him, so to speak.
“Oh, do that again!”
Merry did, and Pippin arched, moaning. Then Merry retrieved his fingers, and Pippin made a squawk of protest, half sitting up. Merry smiled and put a hand on Pippin’s chest. “I think I recall you saying you couldn’t wait much longer. He was pouring some of the oil over his firm cock, stroking himself. Pippin thought he might burst into flames right here.
“Oh, by all means-continue!”
And Merry did. Pippin groaned as he felt the blunt head of Merry’s member against his hole, and then he was pushing in, and it felt like Pippin was going to be stretched right in two, but then suddenly with a little grunt the head was in, and Pippin decided that burning stretch or no, he liked having Merry inside him. “More,” he whispered, pushing back at Merry, and that did it; more slipped in, and he made a noise that he couldn’t have described if he’d wanted to.
Merry groaned. “You’re so tight, love. So warm.” He seemed to be having trouble breathing, chest rising and falling in great pants, sweat beading at his brow. Pippin pulled him down into reach to where he could kiss him, urging him not to stop.
They started moving together, and it was like a dance, not that Pippin had a great deal of experience at dancing, but it seemed for every movement there was a counter movement, for every sigh an accompanying gasp. Merry played around a little with the angle of his thrusts, until every single one began to draw soft cries from Pippin, flashing sparks of pleasure up and down his spine, turning him into liquid paradise. Pippin grabbed Merry’s hand and guided it to his cock, flushed and leaking, desperate for sensation. Merry stroked him in time, and Pippin could have wept, it felt so good. He came with a cry, holding on tight to Merry, face against his shoulder wet with tears.
With a few more thrusts, Merry came as well. They held each other for long moments, before Merry finally raised his head, turning up Pippin’s face as well, looking into his eyes and the moisture there. “Oh goodness, Pip. Tell me I didn’t hurt you.” He kissed him almost reverently.
Pippin shook his head and hiccupped; oh why was he crying now, of all times? It really was most irksome. “No, not at all-it was wonderful.” He kissed Merry’s hand, the arm that had been wounded by the Witch King. “I waited so long. I love you.” His heart felt full to bursting; surely he would burst, if he didn’t tell Merry, over and over. He hugged him hard. “Don’t ever leave me.”
“Never,” Merry whispered, holding Pippin tight. “We’ll find some way to manage, once we return home. I’m not ever letting you go again.” He kissed Pippin, and soon Pippin saw that Merry’s face was wet too, with his own tears.
“He was right, you know. Faramir. I’m glad it was you.” More than that, he was glad Faramir hadn’t taken that gift from him. He could still feel Merry’s length inside him, pulsing. He wondered if Merry’s be up for another go once they’d rested.
“I’m glad it was me too,” Merry said with a little laugh, which made Pippin jump and moan.
“That felt good.”
Merry shook his head. “You can’t be ready for more.”
Pippin smiled. “Not yet. But soon. Oh hopefully soon.”
Merry smiled as well, resting against him. “Oh that I can promise.”
--The End.--
Story: "Honor", Chapter 8
Series: Of Hobbits and Men
Author: Diamond (juweldom@yahoo.com )
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Merry/Pippin, Pippin/Faramir
Warnings: interspecies
Category: Drama, Romance
Disclaimer: All characters herein belong to Tolkien (sob!); I make no monetary profit from this but give me feedback and I'm a happy lass.
Summary: Pippin thinks of a way to prove to Merry he's all grown up
2366 wds.
Previous chapters and tales in the series are on my website here.
*****
Chapter 8: For the Future
It was a few days later, when Pippin's injuries were finally healed enough that he could do almost all the things he had before, that he finally just decided he would have to confront Merry on his own, because Merry never spoke of what had happened, and worse, he hadn't tried to kiss Pippin since the little incident with Sam and Frodo. Was he having second thoughts? Pippin wondered. And he saw Faramir and the lovely lady Eowyn, and that only reminded him that he had a confession to make to Merry, and it was all so very awkward so he put it off.
But he couldn't put things off any longer. He wanted Merry. His body was telling him that in no uncertain terms and sleep was harder and harder to come by. He found Merry sitting under a tree one day, soon after the Rohirrin party had left lead by their new king Eomer, He seemed oddly preoccupied with something--a piece of his armor, Pippin saw. Pippin sat down and Merry looked up, startled.
"Do you miss them?" Pippin asked. Merry blinked at him, so he elaborated. "The Rohirrim I mean; I mean you were alone with them for a while--you must have made some friends. Do you miss them?"
Merry shrugged, rubbing the piece with his thumb. "Well yes, a little--though Lady Eowyn's here of course. More I think I miss Theoden." There was something in his face that said it was more than that, but Pippin let it pass. It truly was a shame about the old king.
Well now they came to it. What should he say? It looked like Merry was experiencing a similar problem, rubbing the armguard even harder, brows drawn together in almost a frown. Had he done something wrong recently? Pippin tried to think of something.
"I don't deserve you," Merry said quietly, so quietly Pippin almost wasn't sure he'd heard right.
"What? Why of all the Tom foolery! Why ever not?" Pippin reached over and took Merry's hand, rubbing it, trying to soothe his friend. Merry wasn't looking at him, and that was distressing Pippin, a great deal. He kissed Merry's knuckles, looking at him beseechingly.
Merry glanced up at him, and there was pain and something almost like fear in his eyes. "I slept with someone--someone else."
Of all the things Merry could have possibly said, nothing could have shocked Pippin more. He felt the blow, heavy to his heart. What did this mean? "Oh." He didn't let go of Merry's hand, but gripped it even tighter, waiting to hear the rest, dreading it.
"But I don't love him," Merry hurriedly added, seeing the look on Pippin's face.
"Oh?" Had this happened recently, Pippin wanted to know, and again, why was Merry telling him now?
Now that Merry had started, the words started spilling out of him, as he looked into Pippin's face imploringly, his own grip strong on Pippin's hand. "It was Eomer--he helped me. You see--the orcs." Merry shuddered. "The orcs hurt me, Pippin. In, well, very personal ways. That was why I couldn't do more than kiss you, after. I couldn't bear to be touched. Eomer helped me with that."
The orcs--suddenly Merry's reaction made sense, that kiss, that Pippin had wanted to be so much more. But Eomer? Pippin could hardly fault Merry for his taste, but it still astonished him. "So . . . you bedded him?" Big strong Eomer. Wow.
Merry squirmed, looking uncomfortable. "Yes."
Pippin chewed on his lip, waiting for more, but Merry didn't seem to be giving it. "So . . . what does this mean exactly? Does it mean you can be touched?" Did it mean Merry wanted Pippin to touch him?
Merry blushed a little, smiling, and reached out his other hand to cover Pippin's, leaving the guard piece on the grass. "Yes. You see, Pippin, I wanted to be healed for you. For all of you." He reached up to brush a curl from Pippin's cheek, and then trailed his hand down, hovering on Pippin's chest, as if afraid to venture further.
Pippin stared down at the hand, then at Merry, and he was thinking of his own admission, wondering if that would change things, wondering how Merry would take the news, now that Pippin finally knew what the problem had been. "Um . . . I can forgive you that."
Relief was obvious on Merry's face. "Good."
Pippin raised his hand to put a finger on Merry's lips. "Merry . . . I . . ." Had it been this hard for Merry to get the words out? "I was with another too." He saw the look of shock on Merry's face, and he couldn't bear that, couldn't bear it if Merry misunderstood and walked away, so he plunged headlong into the explanation, "I wanted to learn! Since you always said I was too young for it; I wanted to show you that I could. But--he didn't take me. He said my virginity was a gift I should only give to the one I love. That one is you. It's always been you."
Merry was still staring at him, with sort of an awestruck look, and well that was better than a heartbroken look at least, Pippin reasoned. Wasn't it? Merry opened his mouth to speak but then didn't, looking down to their hands still held in Pippin's lap, his hand on Pippin's chest. If it stayed there much longer, Pippin was sure his heart was going to leap right out. "So you took him?"
It shouldn't have made him blush. But Pippin did. "Aye."
Merry seemed to chew on that for a moment. Then he asked, "Who was it?"
Pippin blushed deeper, wishing he knew for sure what Merry was thinking. "It was Lord Faramir."
Merry blinked in astonishment. "Oh, he's handsome."
Pippin brightened. "Aye, he is!"
At that, Merry gave a little smile, and Pippin's heart began beating hard again, with hope that perhaps this too could be forgiven, that perhaps they could continue to go forward. He fidgeted a little with a bit of grass on his breeches, looking at Merry cautiously, afraid to say more. But he knew he had to. "I know I shouldn't have done it, though. I just . . . I'd sort of given up hope."
Merry looked down uncomfortably, and Pippin cursed his brash words. He was about to recant everything and just throw himself at Merry's feet when Merry suddenly spoke. "I understand--I certainly didn't give you much cause, did I?" He looked up, and Pippin could see there were tears in his eyes. "I'll forgive you if you forgive me, Pip. I do love you. I want to be with you."
Pippin threw himself at his friend, hugging him hard. "And I want to be with you! I've always loved you." He kissed Merry on the cheek, holding him a moment before looking at his face again. "So does this mean you can take me--you know--soon?"
Merry laughed, and standing up, he pulled Pippin up as well. "Yes. Now. I've only been wanting to get that off my chest, you know, before asking you . . ." He didn't need to say more, for already Pippin was pulling him along, trying to hurry them along to their room. He'd waited quite long enough.
They barely made it to their room before Pippin was pulling off his waistcoat and suspenders, unbuttoning his shirt, all while trying to kiss Merry, which was very difficult indeed as Merry was trying to do the same to undress himself. They made it to the bed before Pippin tripped over Merry’s feet, landing them both in a pile on the soft down mattress.
Pippin looked at Merry abashedly, but Merry only chuckled and pulled him in for a kiss, long and sweet, and so very long overdue. Pippin for his part kissed back eagerly, running his hands over Merry’s shoulders, his back, his arse-every part that he could reach up to and including his cock which was hard and jutting up early from its nest of curls; he wrapped his hand around and stroked him slowly as they traded turns exploring each others mouths.
Merry finally put his hand over Pippin’s panting a little. “I’ve waited this long-I don’t think I can wait much longer if you keep doing that.” He kissed the tip of Pippin’s nose to soothe the warning, maneuvering them so that Pippin was underneath and to where he could reach for something in the drawer of the night table, a small bottle of oil for massages, Pippin realized. Ah yes-he remembered that from Faramir. He squirmed a little, feeling a surge of heat.
“Please, yes,” Pippin said, touching himself instead, slowly stroking his member and giving Merry a coquettish smile. It must have worked, because Merry groaned, even though Pippin hadn’t touched him.
“You are going to be insatiable, aren’t you.”
“Well I am several years younger than you.”
“You’ll be the death of me!” But Merry was grinning as he said it.
“I hope not,” Pippin said in a softer voice, reaching up to stroke Merry’s hair. “I hope we have a very long life together.”
Merry said nothing, but he didn’t need to; the love in his eyes said more than enough, as he poured the oil into his hand and moved it down to spread the slippery substance over Pippin’s entrance, massaging it in, gently testing with his finger. Pippin squirmed again. “Yes. Please.” Hadn’t he already said he was ready for this?
Merry pressed his finger in, and Pippin gasped at the thick feeling of it, the rough calluses from weapons training making what he felt was a most interesting sensation, rubbing things in a most wonderful way. Pippin groaned, clutching at Merry’s shoulders, urging him on. Merry smiled and kissed him, twisting his finger back and forth, ignoring Pippin’s attempts to move things along. “I want this first time to be perfect for you. No pain.”
Pippin could appreciate that sentiment; he really could. But it was so hard to wait even another second. He tried relaxing, just enjoying the sensation for what it was. It was quite naughty, dirty even, and he rather liked it. He gasped when Merry worked in a second finger, feeling a flash of pain, but the need soon overpowered any discomfort. Fingers were lovely, but he really wanted to feel a different part of Merry inside him.
“Almost,” Merry whispered. He worked in a third finger, and Pippin whimpered, because that really was quite tight, and he was quite convinced Merry’s cock would feel much better that three fingers held together, no matter what Merry thought of it. But then something brushed something, and made him gasp, and it was like sweet honey had just been poured all over him, so to speak.
“Oh, do that again!”
Merry did, and Pippin arched, moaning. Then Merry retrieved his fingers, and Pippin made a squawk of protest, half sitting up. Merry smiled and put a hand on Pippin’s chest. “I think I recall you saying you couldn’t wait much longer. He was pouring some of the oil over his firm cock, stroking himself. Pippin thought he might burst into flames right here.
“Oh, by all means-continue!”
And Merry did. Pippin groaned as he felt the blunt head of Merry’s member against his hole, and then he was pushing in, and it felt like Pippin was going to be stretched right in two, but then suddenly with a little grunt the head was in, and Pippin decided that burning stretch or no, he liked having Merry inside him. “More,” he whispered, pushing back at Merry, and that did it; more slipped in, and he made a noise that he couldn’t have described if he’d wanted to.
Merry groaned. “You’re so tight, love. So warm.” He seemed to be having trouble breathing, chest rising and falling in great pants, sweat beading at his brow. Pippin pulled him down into reach to where he could kiss him, urging him not to stop.
They started moving together, and it was like a dance, not that Pippin had a great deal of experience at dancing, but it seemed for every movement there was a counter movement, for every sigh an accompanying gasp. Merry played around a little with the angle of his thrusts, until every single one began to draw soft cries from Pippin, flashing sparks of pleasure up and down his spine, turning him into liquid paradise. Pippin grabbed Merry’s hand and guided it to his cock, flushed and leaking, desperate for sensation. Merry stroked him in time, and Pippin could have wept, it felt so good. He came with a cry, holding on tight to Merry, face against his shoulder wet with tears.
With a few more thrusts, Merry came as well. They held each other for long moments, before Merry finally raised his head, turning up Pippin’s face as well, looking into his eyes and the moisture there. “Oh goodness, Pip. Tell me I didn’t hurt you.” He kissed him almost reverently.
Pippin shook his head and hiccupped; oh why was he crying now, of all times? It really was most irksome. “No, not at all-it was wonderful.” He kissed Merry’s hand, the arm that had been wounded by the Witch King. “I waited so long. I love you.” His heart felt full to bursting; surely he would burst, if he didn’t tell Merry, over and over. He hugged him hard. “Don’t ever leave me.”
“Never,” Merry whispered, holding Pippin tight. “We’ll find some way to manage, once we return home. I’m not ever letting you go again.” He kissed Pippin, and soon Pippin saw that Merry’s face was wet too, with his own tears.
“He was right, you know. Faramir. I’m glad it was you.” More than that, he was glad Faramir hadn’t taken that gift from him. He could still feel Merry’s length inside him, pulsing. He wondered if Merry’s be up for another go once they’d rested.
“I’m glad it was me too,” Merry said with a little laugh, which made Pippin jump and moan.
“That felt good.”
Merry shook his head. “You can’t be ready for more.”
Pippin smiled. “Not yet. But soon. Oh hopefully soon.”
Merry smiled as well, resting against him. “Oh that I can promise.”
--The End.--