Crush

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Author: Cimorene cimfiction@hotmail.com
Author's Website: http://rightthisway.net/cimorene/index.html 
Category: PWP, Romance, First-Time 
Characters: Merry Pippin 
Warnings: None 
Rating: NC-17 
Summary: Pippin can't sleep, but he really *wants* to! 
Disclaimer: I make no claims about Merry and Pippin, 
nor money from the story. I'm just borrowing them. 
Feedback: Yes, please. 
Story Notes: 

Crush 

Merry woke up because Pippin's hair was tickling his 
nose, and pulled his face back a little. His arms were 
wrapped around Pippin's chest from behind, under his 
arms. 

It was very nice. 

But he had a feeling it could be improved. He 
tightened his arms around Pippin, and Pippin, making 
an astonishing, delightful little soft noise Merry 
hadn't known he could make, was very pliant in his 
arms. It almost seemed he was cooperating in being 
pulled closer to Merry, although of course he was 
asleep, and when their bodies were curled together, he 
even seemed to snuggle closer with another dreamy 
murmur. 

This was even nicer. Very, very satisfying indeed. 
There was something terribly comforting about Pippin's 
warm, solid weight against him. Merry was getting 
sleepy again, and he felt a most insensible desire to 
be closer to Pippin, when he was fairly certain it 
wasn't even possible to do so. 

Then he discovered he could sort of tangle their legs 
together, which was also nice and warm. And Pip was 
still very cooperative. Merry smiled to himself, in 
the dark. They were close enough now that when he 
started to drift off to sleep again, and started to 
lose perfect touch with his body, he couldn't tell 
what was him and what was Pippin, which was very nice 
in itself. 

Merry buried his face in Pippin's hair again and 
breathed in, and let Pippin's hair tickle his nose as 
much as it liked.  


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Merry had a persistent habit of crushing Pippin when 
they were asleep. Pippin would wake up to find half 
his breath gone, from Merry's strong arms around his 
ribs, or from Merry lying either partly on top of him, 
a solid blanket of heavy warmth that always smelled 
sweetly of the Shire and, of course, of Merry, no 
matter how far from home they wandered--or all the way 
on top of him, sometimes, so Pippin knew nothing of 
the world and could feel nothing but Merry when he 
woke up. 

Pippin rather liked it, actually, but the problem was 
that he couldn't quite breathe, and that made him wake 
up, which he *didn't* like. He wanted to stay asleep 
for as long as possible--that had been a rule of his, 
with few exceptions, for some time, and sleep had been 
more precious than ever since they left the Shire and 
left so many other things behind, like regular meals 
and hot baths. 

And now he had a much better reason to want to stay 
asleep. 

Even when he couldn't breathe, he woke mostly-crushed 
with a deliciously happy feeling, like eating warm 
sticky honey in the sun with overripe berries, and not 
worrying about staining your shirt. He knew it felt 
even better when he was asleep. At least, it stood to 
reason that it must, because it was the best when he 
woke up, and then it slowly went away, until Merry let 
him go, and then it would almost completely vanish. 

To prevent this, the best thing to do was to go back 
to sleep, but Pippin couldn't do that until he could 
breathe. Often, when he tried to shift away from 
Merry, Merry wouldn't let him--sometimes his arms 
would even tighten--and then Pippin couldn't get away, 
usually, without waking Merry up. Merry was strong. 

Pippin liked that too. 

"Merry," Pippin whispered, wiggling a little. It 
didn't work, but only had the effect of Merry tucking 
his face closer in the crook of Pippin's shoulder and 
murmuring something in his sleep. *"Merry,"* he 
hissed, and twisted more energetically. 

Merry rolled them over, pinning Pippin to the ground 
and knocking his breath out of him in a fast whoosh. 
As much as he liked lying like this usually, Pippin 
was getting rather annoyed. He wanted to go back to 
sleep. It was still dark, and Treebeard's bed of twigs 
and moss was very nice and soft--but perhaps too soft, 
because he really wasn't going to be able to breathe 
on his face in it like this, with Merry on him, no 
matter how safe and snuggly it felt, or how Merry's 
Shire scent mixed with the fresh green smell of the 
moss, or how much he would have liked it normally. 

*"Meriadoc Brandybuck,"* Pippin said out loud, 
exasperated, with as much breath as he had left, and 
gave another determined wriggle, managing to wedge one 
of his shoulders under him so he could turn his head. 
His nose and Merry's bumped. *"Ow!"* 

Merry stirred a little--without moving off Pippin, 
mind--and blinked sleepily. His eyes opened, then, 
very close to Pippin's face. "What's the matter, 
Pippin?" He yawned. "Why are you scowling?"  


-------------------------------------------------------

Pippin struggled to sit up, but he didn't seem to be 
managing very well, so Merry sat up and pulled him 
upright. "What's the matter?" He asked again. 

"My dear Merry--" he panted. He seemed out of 
breath. "--that is very annoying!" 

It was still almost pitch black in Treebeard's Ent-
house, and Treebeard seemed to be asleep, but Merry 
shot a cautious look across the room at him. Pippin 
was being a bit loud. "Shh," Merry said, and Pippin 
frowned at him again, charmingly. 

"What are you grinning for?" Pippin demanded, in a 
whisper, this time. 

"What's annoying?" Merry asked soothingly, reaching 
out to brush a twig off Pippin's shoulder. 

"You, the way you--lie on me--I like it, Merry--but 
it's only that you crush the breath right out of me, 
even though you don't mean to--and I can't sleep! And 
I do so want to!" Pippin's lip was trembling. Merry 
picked a little tuft of gray moss out of the locks of 
hair curling on his forehead. 

"It's alright, Pip," Merry said, confused. "I won't." 

Pippin seemed to get inexplicably even angrier. "No!" 

"No? Pippin, what is it you want me to do?" Merry 
asked. 

"Just don't crush me." 

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to," Merry soothed. "But I 
don't think I can really help it, so--" 

Pippin looked anxious. "But I can't sleep that way. I 
keep waking up, Merry," he said pitifully. Pippin's 
soulful hobbit eyes had been this big and wet ever 
since he was a tiny little sprout of a baby hobbit 
toddling after Merry everywhere. 

They had always gotten him nearly everything he 
wanted, except out of punishment when his and Merry's 
pranks were discovered. 

Merry certainly couldn't resist. 

"Then I won't crush you," he said bravely, "I won't 
lie so close to you. If you sleep here, where it's 
warm--and I move over there--" 

Pippin burst into tears. Merry was horrified at first, 
but then, of course, there was nothing left to do but 
pull Pippin into his arms again, and Pippin didn't 
resist at all but cuddled close to him, his tears 
wetting the lapel of Merry's jacket. He shook 
miserably, but he was awfully nice to hold, and Merry 
didn't mind comforting him at all, though he preferred 
him happy. 

He put his face in Pippin's hair again and, at the 
prompting of a quiet voice whispering in his head, hid 
a secretive little kiss among the unruly curls on the 
crown of Pippin's head.  


-------------------------------------------------------

It was the most natural thing in the world to crawl 
back into Merry's arms for comfort, and Pippin clung 
tightly to him. It followed that it was the most 
unnatural thing in the world to sleep here, with Merry 
over there, and all that space between them. Maybe he 
wouldn't be crushed, but he probably wouldn't sleep at 
all either! 

"Sh," Merry was saying into Pippin's hair, "don't," 
meaning Pippin's crying. He sniffed, and sat there 
still for a moment, not looking up. It was warm and 
pleasant. 

Maybe they could just sleep like this. Surely Merry 
couldn't crush him if they weren't even lying down? 

Pippin looked up and tried again to explain. "You 
can't sleep over there, Merry. I'd much rather be 
crushed than sleep by myself, and then I couldn't 
probably sleep. And what if it got cold? Likely as not 
I'd be cold, and lonely too--and it's the whole reason 
I wanted to get to sleep anyway." 

Merry looked mildly confused, but he was paying 
attention, looking into Pippin's eyes. He smiled a 
little, and brushed back the hair on Pippin's 
forehead. He had a habit of trying to tidy Pippin's 
hair, too--a lost cause, but Merry never gave up, and 
Pippin didn't really mind. "Why did you want to 
sleep?" 

Pippin paused, and looked down away. It didn't seem he 
could say something as important as that looking right into Merry's beautiful eyes. And maybe he ought not to 
say it at all, it occurred to him? Of course there was 
nothing wrong with sleep, but there might be something 
wrong with the way he felt about Merry, especially if 
Merry didn't feel it too. But, 

"Pip?" Merry said gently, sounding so kind. 

And Pippin sighed and said hesitantly, "Because--
because--of you. Well, you know. Because I liked it. 
It's so warm and--and safe and--nice." That didn't 
seem to quite cover it, actually, but Pippin wasn't 
sure what it was like, besides those things. There was 
the smell of Merry; and then there was just the fact 
that it was his sweet Merry he was lying with, and he 
almost felt as if he could burrow inside of him when 
they laid close enough together like that. There were 
all the other things it reminded him of--like Merry's 
last birthday party, when he'd given Pippin a soft 
woolly scarf, rather as a joke after they got lost in 
the woods and Pippin complained of his neck's being 
cold, but now Pippin never took it off for anything. 
Things like summer, too, and new-mown hay. And a pipe 
of good Shire-leaf--smoked in his favorite old pipe--
on a little hearth somewhere, yes, beside a fire, with 
Merry there next to him. 

Merry hugged him, but carefully, Pippin noticed, 
without crushing anything. "It is, isn't it," he 
murmured. 

"Mm," Pippin answered, and yawned. He was warm and 
safe and sleepy, and he just wanted to go back to 
sleep. "Let's lie down again after all, Merry. I feel 
as if I could sleep now even if--" he yawned again--
 "you accidentally squished all the breath out of me." 

So they did, even though Merry laughed. 

But then Merry wrapped his arms firmly about Pippin's 
back, and Pippin tried not to, but he couldn't help 
it, really--he grunted a little. 

"Oh," said Merry quickly, loosening his grip, pulling 
back a little. 

Pippin allowed that, but then when he settled into the 
bed of moss again for sleep, he wasn't quite 
comfortable enough, and he instinctively wriggled 
closer to Merry until their chests bumped together 
again, and so did their knees. When Merry sighed, the 
sound rushed past Pippin's ear and heated the side of 
his face and it smelled even sweeter, and it was so 
good, and Pippin wriggled even closer to Merry again-- 

And he wanted more, so he opened his eyes and they met 
Merry's eyes, glistening in the darkness, and he slid 
his arm around Merry and tried to curl closer again 
but he couldn't really-- 

And he was very much awake. Merry's mouth was just a 
finger's-breadth away from Pippin's mouth. "Pippin," 
he whispered. Pippin watched his mouth form the word, 
entranced, and had decidedly wicked, but wonderful, 
thoughts. "Pippin. How old are you?" 

"Twenty-nine," said Pippin, looking deeply into 
Merry's eyes. Their noses were almost bumping. And 
they were touching all up and down their bodies again. 
It was lovely but it still wasn't-- 

"Just a baby still, aren't you?" Merry breathed. 

Pippin didn't really know what they were talking 
about, but he said indignantly, "No, I'm not at all--
I'm quite grown-up and responsible--" He broke off, 
his breath hitching. 

Merry's voice sounded wonderfully rich and thick, 
sleepy and slow and low and soft. All he said 
was, "Good." 

Then all of Pippin's wicked thoughts and his wonderful 
ones fled, banished by the reality too amazing to fit 
in them. Merry swallowed that little breath of space 
between their lips and kissed him. Their mouths 
touched, and fitted together, and they didn't really 
know exactly what to do with them--or at least Pippin 
didn't, but Merry seemed to have some idea. But it was 
too, too brilliant. It was the rest Pippin had been 
looking for, trying to come closer. He wriggled 
against Merry in delight. 

There was the softness of Merry's mouth against him 
and the way Merry tasted, which was even better than 
the way he smelled. Also, his mouth was very hot, not 
just warm like Merry all over. And it had a very nice 
shape to it--Pippin's eyes were closed, but he could 
taste the pretty shape of Merry's pink lower lip and 
the little curl of the one over it. How long had he 
wanted to taste them? 

Oh, forever. 

Pippin thought there was still something wrong. And he 
opened his mouth. Then, so did Merry, and the tips of 
their tongues touched, smooth and slippery-wet in the 
dark space in their mouths closed together with their 
eyes shut. Pippin made a little noise. He didn't know 
what he was saying, quite, but Merry seemed to 
appreciate it. 

They kissed until Pippin couldn't breathe and didn't 
care and couldn't remember how it all started anymore. 
He was dizzy, but that didn't matter. He would fall 
again and again, but however many times he did, Merry 
would catch him. Finally they had to break their lips 
apart and lie wrapped up together, breathing fast, 
still. "Oh," Pippin said softly. Then Merry kissed him 
again. * "Oh."*  


-------------------------------------------------------

Merry discovered the answer to their problem by 
accident, while he was trying to find some way to hold 
Pippin more firmly, more closely, and to claim him 
more thoroughly, than he could the way they were lying 
with their legs tangled, their bellies and chests 
pressed together, and their mouths still delectably 
burning against each other. 

Pippin made little noises in his throat when Merry 
stroked down the soft skin under his ears with his 
thumb, but he rumbled in his chest when Merry's hands 
found their way under his vest and measured the curve 
of his ribs. When he stroked up and down the length of 
Pippin's back and his hands settled on the soft curve 
behind and pulled him close, Pippin did the most 
beautiful thing of all, an unbelieving swift gasping 
cry against Merry's parted lips. Merry did that again, 
and again, and then it happened--he pulled Pippin 
against him tightly and moved, and they rolled, and 
then Pippin was lying on top of Merry, looking bemused 
but not at all unhappy about the situation. 

"My dear Merry," he said, but not at all icily as he 
had before. This time he said it with his mouth open 
and red, smiling down at Merry. "Do that again--" 
Merry explored a little further, his fingers 
spreading. He took the fullness there in his hands, 
and Pippin's hips bucked. 

Merry and Pippin both gasped. "Pippin," Merry 
said, "That was perfect!" 

Pippin smiled mischievously, his eyes lighting 
up. "No, not quite, I think." He tried again, and that 
hot, tight feeling spread through Merry again out to 
his toes in little tingling waves. 

He said "Mmmmm," and, trying to get that feeling back, 
better, pulled his legs apart a little so that 
Pippin's weight settled nicely between them. They 
closed their eyes, and sighed, as their weight pushed 
hardness against hardness. 

They found out that when Pippin rocked his hips, that 
felt nice. And when Merry did too, at the same time, 
it was even better. They found out that this lovely 
feeling didn't come and go at all, but got better each 
time, and all along it only made them want more until 
they were almost crying, pushing hard against each 
other and searching and searching for something they 
couldn't find. 

"Merry," Pippin whispered, and 

"Pippin," whispered Merry. 

One of the things that was missing was the feel of 
Pippin's skin on his, and they fixed that by 
unbuttoning their trousers, although Pippin's hands 
almost shook to much to do that, and they came 
together again trembling, their mouths fastening 
together like a lifeline. Their first kiss so recent, 
already Merry couldn't get enough of the subtle 
wonderful taste of Pippin. 

They kept moving together, but now their flesh touched 
flesh, and it felt so good and right, if increasingly 
slippery, and still frustrating. Merry knew there was 
just--a bit more. And then he pulled his legs up and 
wrapped them around Pippin's waist, and that helped a 
lot. By the end he couldn't find it in him to 
say "Pippin," anymore--the only thing he knew was oh 
and the feel and taste of Pippin. 

Pippin kept saying the same thing. 

At last, they found it. 

An explosion, hot, sweet, and ripe, like a peach 
flushed orange-red warm in the sun giving way to the 
squeezing of your fingers, its soft flesh folding 
around you and its clear sticky juice weeping out, 
trickling over your hand. 

Pippin and Merry gasped unevenly, staring hard at each 
other, trying to get their breath. They touched the 
stickiness on their bellies in wonder and laughed, and 
when they had their breath, Merry folded Pippin in his 
arms again. Pippin stretched out on top of him and 
kissed him again sleepily. 

"What about this?" Merry whispered. "Do you think you 
can sleep like that? On top of me? And not get 
squished?" 

Pippin smiled lazily and pushed his face against 
Merry's neck. "Mmmm, shhhh, Merry. Go to sleep." 

End