So, I finally wrote an NC-17 Interspecies story. Whee. *falls over*)
Title: Of Brothers and Cousins
Pairing: Boromir/Merry/Pippin, Faramir/Merry/Pippin, Merry/Pippin
Rating: NC-17
Categories: slash, canon, slight angst, post-Quest
Author's name: Ruby Nye
Section: 1 of 2
Summary: Cousins and lovers discuss brothers they love.
The fire crackled, and Merry watched it idly, his hand stroking just as idly through Pippin's hair. It was a busy winter after a laborious fall, so one might think he and Pippin would be in bed making up for lost time, but this evening, by some unspoken agreement, they sat in the parlor, watching the fire and just being together.
"So, which did you like better?" Pippin asked. Merry blinked, only slowly hearing Pippin's voice, his question. "Well?" Pippin demanded impatiently.
"Which what?" Merry replied, confused, and Pippin smiled up at him, obviously pitying his befuddled elder cousin. "Boromir and Faramir, Merry. Which of them are you fonder of?"
"Pippin." Merry rolled his eyes. "They aren't pies."
"No, they are Men, and brothers, and both dear to us, and I was just thinking of them, and trying to decide which I was fonder of, so I thought I would ask you." Pippin sat up, draping himself on Merry's shoulder. "I think I know your answer, though," he went on, voice much softer.
Merry nodded, his mind full of memories of deep laughter and sword practice and impossibly broad shoulders. "Boromir."
"He's not sleeping, Pippin." Merry leaned close to whisper in Pippin's ear. "I think not, at any rate."
"Not sleeping? But Lorien is so fair and restful! I could almost forget here, how we came here--" Pippin's voice cracked at that, as he remembered, but he swallowed and spoke lightly in the next moment. "Even Frodo looks better. Even Sam looks better. Even Strider doesn't look grim anymore."
"Strider---Aragorn---is used to Elves, I think. Boromir isn't. And there's something else, I don't know what, but...at any rate, he's not sleeping. I can see the dark rings under his eyes."
"Well, you know what always puts me to sleep," said Pippin wickedly, his green eyes sparkling. Merry felt a brief flurry of caution---he said he wants to be alone he hasn't even slept with us since we got here---before the mischief in Pippin's eyes dispatched Merry's sense with one well-placed hit to his desire, and he found himself grinning back. "Yes, and you always snore afterwards," Merry agreed, and dashed out of Pippin's reach; Pippin whooped and gave chase.
Merry ran to where he knew Boromir was sitting alone behind one of the mighty trees of Lorien, abstractedly cleaning an already shining dagger. "Boromir! Boromir! Help!" he cried, making sure his voice had enough laughter in it, so that Boromir's quick look of alarm faded into amusement as he sheathed his dagger and swept Merry up in one arm. "Pippin's after me!"
"Can you not handle your young cousin, Meriadoc?" Boromir replied, looking gratifyingly pleased to see them as he swung Merry up onto his shoulders and Pippin attacked his legs.
"He fights dirty!" Merry replied, wrapping himself around Boromir's shoulders, as Pippin made a good show of trying to climb Boromir like a tree. "I do not!" Pippin protested, before gales of laughter came over him; Boromir sat back down, Merry and Pippin clambering all over him, and the three of them laughed together. "Boromir, we're going to explore," Pippin said, looking up from Boromir's chest. "Come with us?"
"Ah, Merry, Pippin, I'm weary today." Boromir indeed did look weary, rubbing one hand over his eyes. "Thank you, though---"
"Then we can explore right here," Merry said, more softly, as he began licking the ear he was speaking into, just as Pippin pulled himself up to Boromir's other ear. This was an old trick of theirs, winding themselves simultaneously around someone; it worked charmingly on hobbit lads and lasses alike. Their first time with Boromir Merry had wondered, deep in the cautious corner of his mind, whether it would work on someone as large as a Man, but apparently speaking peoples weren't so different from each other after all.
Boromir froze, unable to pull away from one hobbit without pressing into the other, as Pippin wound arms and legs around his chest and Merry leaned down from his shoulders and they attacked his ears and cheeks and jaw with lips and tongues. Beneath his apparent cheerful seductiveness, Merry was holding his breath; now was when Boromir would pull them off and laugh at them and send them on their way, as he had twice before, or when he would relax into their four arms and four legs and let them explore him and please him and soothe him, as he had thrice. He sat for a long moment, arms tight and still, one hand on Merry's back and one around Pippin's waist, eyelids slowly drooping; then he sighed, and even though he asked, "my lads, do you know what you do?" the huskiness in that strong voice told Merry he wouldn't be pulling them off.
Pippin made an affirmative noise, unwilling to untuck his head from Boromir's neck; Boromir jumped with a small gasp, and Merry could tell that Pippin had bitten him. "Of course we do," Merry said, keeping his voice light. "You're our friend, and you know we find you handsome, and we're finally someplace safe and cosy. Unless you'd rather an elven maiden---"
Boromir laughed at that, more bitterly than Merry would have liked, but his hand on Merry's back started to move, to caress. "Oh, no, Merry. I would much rather you two, my comrades." Merry's heart hurt sweetly at that, and he kissed his way across the expanse of Boromir's jaw---so broad, fringed with a delightfully prickly beard---to reach his mouth.
Every time, it amazed Merry how much larger Boromir's mouth was than his own. A disorienting memory came to him, of being kissed by a very young Pippin who had just declared that when he was grown he would marry Merry. This was the flip side of that, Merry's mouth landing in the middle of Boromir's wider one; Boromir, too, felt the difference, as Merry felt him gasp again, and then bring his lips together around Merry's bottom lip, warm and enveloping. Merry wriggled closer, hooking his arm round Boromir's neck, rubbing his cheek against his beard, and kissed Boromir firmly until those warm large lips rose to meet his and move over his, until Boromir was holding him securely with one hand as he returned the kiss. Boromir returned the kiss warmly, then assertively, then hotly, his tongue large and lively in Merry's mouth.
"Hoy, give me a turn!" Pippin objected, and Merry lifted his head to laugh, and found he was sideways to them. Boromir turned, looking surprised, and his head rocked back as Pippin flung himself at him; Merry chuckled as he climbed down, Boromir absently helping him with one hand as the other sank into Pippin's chestnut curls. Merry slid down Boromir's broad chest, got his feet beneath him, and stood up, his mouth now level with the top of Boromir's head; winding himself again around Boromir, that massively strong arm curving round his body, he watched Boromir being roused by Pippin's kisses till he was roused to aggressiveness, his mouth covering Pippin's, his arm crushing Pippin to his side. Pippin twined his arms round Boromir's neck and squirmed against him and moaned that 'oh yes do that some more' moan of his.
Boromir didn't know Pippin as well as Merry did, however, so when Pippin moaned Merry saw Boromir blink, and then loosen his grip on Pippin, pulling his head up. Merry chuckled as Pippin gasped in surprise, his whole face suffused with indignation as his eyes fluttered open. "Why'd you stop?" Pippin demanded, and Merry stuffed one hand into his mouth as he laughed.
"I thought I crushed you--" Boromir began, and Merry unstuffed his hand and managed to force his voice to words. "Pip likes being crushed," Merry informed Boromir, waggling his eyebrows, enjoying the way Boromir's grey eyes twinkled as he caught on. "Ah, then," Boromir said, indeed delightfully crushing both hobbits close again, "where are we?"
"Wearing too much," Merry replied, his mouth on Boromir's neck, tongue tracing the pulsing vessel; he wondered where Pippin's bite was, how Boromir would look with matching bites on either side of his collar. Boromir moaned deep and rumbling in his chest when Merry did bite him and Pippin nipped at his ear again, before gently tugging his hands free to pull off his corselet; Merry and Pippin both noticed the loss of the encircling arms, and glanced at each other, and started on Boromir's clothes, Merry undoing the clasps on his tunic while Pippin attacked the lacings of his breeches. "You two," Boromir said and laughed, reaching up to cup Merry's face and down to stroke Pippin's curls, and Merry kissed one of Boromir's eyes as he pulled the tunic open. Boromir pulled him down gently to kiss his mouth, warm and encompassing as before; then Pippin gasped dramatically, and when Merry turned to look he was treated to the wonderfully unusual sight of Boromir blushing as Pippin cried, "Oh, Merry, look at this! I can't get my hands round it!"
"Lawks, Pippin, must you say that every time?" Merry chided, though he couldn't help laughing at Boromir's ruddy blush. Pippin merely waggled his eyebrows and started licking the head, pink tongue leaving streaks of shining moisture, and all Boromir could do was groan. Merry grinned, thinking that's it, Pip, delighted to feel their mighty friend quivering in their arms, as he ran his hands through the hair on Boromir's chest and kissed him again; Boromir slid one rough-gentle hand down over Merry's rump and up beneath his tunic, hot and broad on Merry's skin. "What of your clothes?" he asked, running his tongue with surprising delicacy up over the point of Merry's ear; Merry opened his mouth to reply, but moaned instead as Boromir fastened his whole mouth over that ear, wet and hot, his tongue caressing the curves like a wet boneless finger. All his blood catching fire, Merry's knees buckled so that only Boromir's arm held him upright.
"Merry, you look like a lit candle," Pippin observed, giving Boromir's prick a last fond lick before he got up on his knees and started unlacing his tunic, "bright on top and melty below." Merry weakly made a rude gesture as he got his feet beneath him; Pippin squeaked, dropping his tunic, as Boromir pulled him up to engulf his ear, and moaned and trembled, eyes closed, going just as boneless as Merry had with the feeling. "Yes, Boromir, hold him like that," Merry said as he tugged Pippin's breeches and smalls off; Pippin pried his eyes open and managed a faint, "hoy!" before Merry was upon him, sucking him while he wrapped both hands around Boromir and stroked.
"You two...."Boromir said in a deep choked voice, watching Merry's head bob as he held a moaning, trembling Pippin, feeling Merry's fingers stroking up and down, and Merry would have smiled if he could, to have both of them like this. But then Boromir pulled Merry up, too, which made Pippin quite indignant. "Don't stop him! That was good!"
"Please let me make it up to you, Master Pippin," said Boromir cheerfully, if a bit breathlessly, getting them tucked securely against his body, his hands caressing round their hips. Merry got his breeches undone and off with shaking fingers, and Boromir wrapped one hand round each of them, drawing an "Oh!" of heartfelt forgiveness from Pippin.
"A good general should be able to conduct a battle on two fronts at once," Boromir explained, and Merry chuckled breathlessly and kissed the corner of his mouth; Boromir turned his head to kiss Merry as Pippin's hands slid over Boromir's shoulder to find Merry's. They squeezed, the one on Boromir's back holding on, the one on his chest letting go to continue to roam; Boromir turned to kiss Pippin, and Merry dropped his head to Boromir's shoulder and just felt Boromir's hand rippling round him, the smallest finger hooked under his eggs to stroke them so that he tingled with it.
So roused his eyelids were heavy, Merry watched them kiss, Pippin's back arching as he trembled in the curve of Boromir's arm, his hand tracing the muscles of Boromir's chest; Pippin's hand settled on Boromir's nipple, rolling it between thumb and forefinger, and Boromir growled low in his chest and tightened his arms round them both. That's it, Pip, Merry thought again, as he turned his head to nip at Boromir's collarbone and Boromir squeezed harder and oh, Merry could feel his peak already building behind Boromir's fingers. He gasped something, he didn't know what, and Pippin's other hand tightened round his as Pippin moaned into Boromir's mouth and shook like a leaf and Merry knew he was peaking, could feel it in his grip and hear it into his moan, and just from knowing that Merry pressed his face to Boromir's neck and peaked himself, clutching Pip's hand.
Boromir gently let the panting hobbits down into his lap, leaning against him, hands still tangled behind his back. "Well, my lads," he said proudly when he knew they could hear him again, "how was that?"
Merry raised an eyebrow at Boromir's tone, then reached for his breeches to fish out the handkerchief he knew he'd put there this morning. "Lovely," he said as he gave Boromir the handkerchief, "but..." Pippin caught Merry's eyes with his twinkling green ones, and took up the thread with, "Yes, indeed, there's something missing." Merry was hard put not to giggle; Boromir was nearly glaring. "And what would that be?" he inquired gruffly.
"Why, Boromir, you must peak too," Pippin said, wrapping his hands round Boromir's prick, which was half hard at the moment. Boromir sucked in his breath and chuckled; Merry lent his hands to Pippin's, and between the two of them it was soon standing straight up again. "Where was I?" Pippin asked Merry, who replied, "Not talking." Pippin made a face at Merry and set back to licking the head again, which left Merry the shaft. There was plenty for both of them, after all.
Boromir gasped. "You two will be the death of me," he said warmly, his fingers threading gently through two sets of curls. Merry caught Pippin's eye, and they licked a path to each other and kissed, open-mouthed, tasting Boromir on each other; then they began chasing each other's tongues round the shaft, stroking whatever they weren't licking at the moment. Pippin spiraled up, sliding the loose skin up and down with the pressure of his lips alone; Merry slid downwards, circling Boromir's shaft with his hands as he laved Boromir's eggs in their musky-hot sac and Boromir growled with pleasure. Just as Merry was wondering if he could get his mouth fully around one he felt Boromir's prick twitch against his nose as a strangled gasp sounded from above; Merry lifted his head to see Pippin working quite industriously at getting his lips round the head, the rosebud mouth stretched wide, an oddly, powerfully arousing sight. Thoughts chased each other through Merry's mind, what a sight to see Pip do that and Boromir's shaking, nearly undone, and as he watched Boromir jerked and groaned and peaked.
Pippin was a moment too slow pulling back, and got quite the faceful; Merry laughed so hard he had to lay his head down on Boromir's thigh as Pippin spluttered and swiped at his face. "Merry, stop rolling about and come up here and help me!" Pippin demanded as Boromir sucked in a draught of air and laughed satedly; Merry got up on his knees again, still giggling, and pressed a kiss to Boromir's navel on his way. "Here," Boromir said warmly, passing Merry the rather dilapidated handkerchief.
"Pippin, hold still or you'll get it in your hair," Merry said, pulling curls off Pippin's forehead to wipe his face off, licking off the remnants, bitter warmth over the sweeter salt of Pippin's skin. Pippin, sucking his hand clean, made noises that ranged between annoyed to appreciative and back again as Merry carefully wiped and licked him, brow and nose, cheeks and chin, leaving his mouth for last to deliver a smacking kiss. "There."
"Thank you, Merry. Boromir, you near drowned me," Pippin said fondly; Boromir grinned, heavy-lidded, waving his hand in vague apology. Merry tucked himself against Boromir's side, pulling an arm round himself like a blanket; Pippin snuggled in on the other side, and in heartbeats Boromir was sound asleep between them. Pippin tugged Boromir's cloak up to where Merry could reach it, and they drew it over Boromir and themselves; beneath it, Merry laid his hand over Boromir's heart, feeling it beating slowly in the mighty chest, feeling the bone and muscle and sinew beneath his hand, watching Boromir's face relax in sleep until he almost looked young.
"Merry?" Pippin whispered. When Merry looked at him, he plaintively added, "I'm hungry."
Merry snorted. "You're always hungry, Pippin. Go back and have luncheon if you like. I'm staying with Boromir till he wakes."
Pippin considered this for a moment, looking at Boromir's face, then at Merry's, and finally shook his head. "Some things are better than luncheon," he said, quiet even for a whisper, and laid his hand over Merry's hand, over Boromir's heart.
"That time in Lorien was lovely, wasn't it? But then, Lorien was lovely." Pippin sighed, his arms round Merry's waist. "Boromir was lovely."
"Yes, he was." The tone of Merry's voice made Pippin glance at him; his face was dry, but his eyes glittered with tears, and Pippin drew Merry's head onto his shoulder, stroking his hair. "I'm sorry, Merry. I didn't mean to make you cry."
"I know, Pip. And I'm glad to remember him, even if it does make me cry. Just as you are glad to remember Faramir." Merry tilted his head back, grinning cheerfully despite his wet eyes, and waggled his eyebrows to make Pippin blush. "Not that I mind remembering him, either, though I'll never be able to face Eowyn again, you wicked Took."
"Oh, you're glad I asked, and you know it." Pippin laughed, and kissed Merry, and remembered.