Pippin burst into Crickhollow in an explosion of frigid wind and snowflakes. Merry smiled slightly as he heard a pack hitting the floor, cloak and coat being shed, and furry feet running into the parlor. He caught a glimpse of Pippin, red-cheeked from the cold, before the Took threw himself into Merry’s arms, hugging him happily in greeting. Merry laughed at his exuberance, and held him close. There was plenty of room for both of them on the sofa, but Pippin still wriggled until he was settled quite comfortably in Merry’s lap, legs stretched out over the cushions.

“Oof! Merry, it’s cold out there!” Pippin playfully laid his head on Merry’s shoulder, gazing up with huge green eyes. Merry spared a thought at how very happy he was that Pippin, despite the more-than-occasional nightmares, had remained his Pippin. He grinned, lifting one of his lover’s hands to his mouth and nipping playfully at it. The other hobbit’s hands truly were freezing, and Merry adjusted his hold to pull Pippin closer, wishing he’d thought to build the fire up more before getting so involved in his book.

Pippin snatched his hand back, giggling, and wrapped his arms around Merry’s neck, half-sitting up. “How’re Frodo and Sam and Rosie?” Merry asked, moving Pippin so he could reach to rub some warmth into the cold feet.

“Oh, they’re all quite lovely. Rosie’s positively glowing; pregnancy suits her, and I think Sam is nearly as lit up!” Pippin stretched out luxuriously, wriggling his toes at Merry.

Merry laughed at the news, and satisfied with Pippin’s feet, he pulled his lover over again to rub his arms, and breathe warmth into his hands.

“Frodo is so quiet. He worked on his book a lot.” Pippin spoke softly, his brows drawing together a little. “He’s changed a lot.”

Merry took Pippin’s face in his hands, kissing his forehead softly. “Aye,” was all he would say, and both were quiet for a few moments.

“And how are you? Feeling better?” Pippin smiled, but a little too quickly and too tightly.

“Oh, perfectly fine, Pip. I should’ve gone with you, I haven’t had so much as a sniffle in at least a day!” Merry spoke lightly, hoping to recapture the joy of Pippin’s initial return, and was rewarded with a smile and a sweet kiss.

“No, you should’ve stayed right here! You know you get cold so easily, and Strider warned you to be careful, at least for this winter. You’re entering your dotage, don’t you know, Merry,” Pippin teased, eyes twinkling again, “and must stay before the warm fire at all time, wrapped up in a woolly blanket!” He tickled Merry’s face with the tassel on the edge of the blanket that Merry had, indeed, had across his lap, and squeaked when Merry moved to tickle his ribs.

When they had teased each other a little more, and Pippin had built the fire up until it was burning brightly (after waving Merry back to lie on the sofa, proclaiming “I don’t care how you feel, I shan’t have you getting sick again!”) and lighting some candles (“Honestly, Merry, you’d go blind if it weren’t for me.”), Merry held out his arms, and the two of them stretched out on the sofa, pressed into each other.

“Mmmm. I missed you, Merry--as did Frodo and Sam and Rosie, they send their love--but you’re so nice and warm to come home to.” He brushed soft curls out of Merry’s eyes, and very gently kissed the brown scar on his lover’s forehead. Merry flushed with warmth at the action, recalling the first time Pippin had done that. It was after Strider had successfully chased the Witch King’s evil influence from his heart and mind. They had been alone in the room, Gandalf and Strider having left, and Pippin crawled up onto the huge bed, pulling Merry into his arms as though he would never let go. He had very carefully kissed Merry on the forehead, and then they stayed entwined with each other, for a very long time.

Back in the present, Merry tightened his hold on Pippin, who kissed him again, on the highest point of his cheekbone this time. Then a little lower, and lower still until their lips met, still so soft and sweet. Merry slid his hand down to cup Pippin’s rump, squeezing the soft roundness and making Pippin press his hips into Merry’s.

“Let’s--to bed,” Merry gasped out, but Pippin shook his head and pulled him closer for a rough kiss.

“No. No, I want you here, with the firelight dancing on your body, and turning your hair to liquid gold. I want to hear your cries here, Mer.” Pippin was undulating his hips now, rhythmically, steadily, and Merry moved with him. Pippin’s nimble fingers turned strong with need, yanking his shirt off, and quickly unlacing his breeches. Merry groaned softly, arching up to meet Pippin, who had climbed on top of his lover. Pippin’s hands were everywhere, clever fingers lighting his skin on fire, while a sweet hardness pressed into his growing erection. Merry’s hands scrabbled to pull off Pippin’s braces, and buttons went flying when he became impatient with the Took’s shirt.

Pippin laughed delightedly at Merry’s ardor, and moved off of the sofa for a moment to shed his breeches. Merry’s disappointment at the loss of the warm weight of Pippin was quickly remedied when he saw his lover bare, pale skin glowing from firelight. His body was still hard and muscled from battle and long marches, thinner even than usual.

Merry believed he was the most beautiful being in all of Arda, and then he couldn’t think enough to believe in anything, as Pippin drew him up into his arms.

“Ah, my love is so soft, and beautiful, and perfect,” Merry breathed as Pippin pulled him close, and began to kiss Merry again, deeper and more needfully. He quickly moved to press wet kisses on Merry’s neck, moving down to his shoulder. He bit lightly, sometimes, making Merry cry out and press close, rubbing their erections together. Pippin cried out, then, and his hands dropped to span the length of Merry’s back, following its curves until his hands rested on his rump, squeezing a little.

Merry moaned softly, and Pippin fell to his knees, one arm still holding firmly onto Merry, holding him steady. Fingers came first, then, so softly Merry could barely feel them, brushing over his thighs, through the tangle of curls, barely touching his hardness. They grew bolder, quickly, and Pippin stroked Merry to full hardness, his hand skillful from long knowledge.

Merry widened his stance, bracing himself as Pippin began to press wet, openmouthed kisses first to the base of his cock, and then sliding up its length. He managed to gasp Pippin’s name out, and then could only moan, as Pippin took him into his mouth. First just the head, swirling his tongue around the tip, pushing the foreskin back. Then deeper, moving agonizingly slowly, and then, when Merry was fully in his mouth, Pippin sucked.

Merry cried out, a choked sound, gripping Pippin’s hair tightly. Pippin sucked rhythmically, pulling back slightly and then taking Merry in as he thrust his hips forward, yearning for heat and wet, and the soft abrasiveness of tongue. He was dimly aware of Pippin’s hands stroking his thighs, moving up to cup his rump, squeezing in rhythm with the pulsing of his tongue and mouth.

Merry gave a guttural cry when Pippin’s warm mouth disappeared, only to reappear on his mouth. Their tongues twined and pulsed, measuring each other in a kiss Merry felt to the base of his spine.

“Want to feel you against me,” Pippin mumbled. “Want to come with you.” Merry laughed a little, low in his chest, and kneaded Pippin’s rump, letting soft, warm skin glide over the pads of his fingers.

“Lie down with me, love, and we’ll make a try for it,” he sighed, half-walking and half-stumbling over to lie on the formerly-abandoned sofa. Pippin lay atop him, their erections pressed together, making Merry see stars. Pippin stroked his hand down Merry’s side, still kissing deeply in between mumbled words of love and endearment. He nudged at the underside of Merry’s leg, and Merry happily wrapped it around his lover, holding Pippin’s thighs down. He reached between them, catching both of their erections in his hand, and pressed them together.

Merry started to stroke rhythmically, but soon it turned jerky, with more urgency than tenderness. He kissed Pippin, roughly, and began to move down his lover’s neck. He sucked hard just under Pippin’s ear, not stopping until his lover grunted and he’d left a mark. He continued then, kissing and sucking sharply, leaving a trail of marks down to Pippin’s collarbone.

Pippin gasped and moaned and made such a collection of lovely noises, Merry moved his hand to squeeze Pippin’s rump, his fingers following a warm cleft and just pressing, very lightly, at the sweet opening. Pippin cried out something that might have been Merry’s name, and finger dug into his shoulders. He could feel Pippin beginning to shake with orgasm when he growled into his lover’s ear.

“Pippin, my own Peregrin. My love, my lover, my only. Pippin, who is pressed up against me, and tastes so sweet, and is so hard.” He bit down on Pippin’s shoulder, growling a little still, and felt sticky heat spurting over his hand, his belly. Pippin screamed Merry’s name out, eyes closed and head thrown back in ecstasy.

And then Merry couldn’t stop the explosion at the base of his spine, wondered a moment that he had waited so long, and then gave himself over, riding waves that shuddered through him.

When his vision cleared, Pippin was kissing him softly, laving Merry’s lips a little with his tongue. He looked up when Merry stirred, moving his arms to wrap around Pippin’s back, and trapping his legs with Merry’s own. Pippin had moved to scrunch down a little on the sofa, and now his head lay comfortably on Merry’s chest.

Merry smiled and kissed him back, still in that glow that meant they didn’t need words to communicate. They lay together in silence, for awhile, Merry stroking Pippin’s hair, becoming oddly fascinated with the way his fingers stretched it out, and then it sprang back into wild curls.

Pippin was placing wet kisses on his chest every once in awhile, and Merry decided that the whole world was absolutely perfect just then, with a warm fire roaring, snowflakes still falling outside, and Pippin in his arms, sticky and warm and sated.

Merry shifted a little as he was reminded of the “sticky” bit. “We need a bath, I think.”

Pippin nodded against his chest. “Aye. Don’t want to go to the trouble now. Warm. Sleepy. Happy.”

Merry smiled at that, pressing a kiss to Pippin’s curls. “We’ll just use my shirt. It’s half rags already, and we need to do laundry tomorrow anyway.”

Pippin made a noncommittal mumble, but rolled off awkwardly when Merry started to sit up. He cleaned the both of them off quickly, pausing to blow a little raspberry on Pippin’s stomach, something that woke the other hobbit enough so that he giggled a little, lightly cuffing Merry’s head.

Merry pulled Pippin into his arms, Pippin’s back against his stomach. “Let’s go to our bed now, nice and warm, and let me hold you all the night through, and we’ll wake up all braided together,” he whispered. Pippin snuggled back against him a little, showing his agreement, and they walked to the door, a little awkwardly with Pippin still pulled against Merry’s chest.

Leaving the parlor, Merry trailed his fingers down Pippin’s neck, following the line of bruises and then circling the bite mark with a fingertip. “Hoy, love, you’ll have some marks for the next few days.”

Pippin turned to look at him, sleepy-eyed but smiling. “Aye. And I’m not sorry, either.”

Merry grinned back tapping his nose. “Neither am I, dear one. I was thinking we wouldn’t be seeing many other people for the next few days, anyway, not with the weather as it is.”

Pippin’s slow, curving grin matched Merry’s. “Meleth, that may be the best thing I’ve heard in days.” And he led the way into their bedroom, already thinking up ways to wake Merry the next morning.

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