Pippin settled his head comfortably in Merry’s lap, looking up a little to see the streetlights flashing by, lighting up the trees outside the car’s window. Merry had leaned his head against the window and was also staring out, his expression distant, and a little sad. Frodo was snoring lightly in the front seat, and Legolas was driving, happily singing along with the execrable (in Pippin’s mind) country-western station playing softly on the radio. He was presently warbling something by Patsy Cline, and Pippin decided it would be a good time to turn his mind elsewhere.

Like the fascinating young man he’d met only a few weeks before, and bonded with so very quickly. He tilted his head to regard Merry, who had begun absentmindedly stroking Pippin’s curls. A little crease had formed between Merry’s eyes, and he was frowning slightly.

Pippin decided that he didn’t want someone he cared about as much as he was rapidly growing to care about Merry to have that look on their face. Sitting up, he snuggled over into Merry’s side, resting his chin on a convenient shoulder.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” he whispered softly, tangling his legs with Merry’s.

“Nothing, Pippin. Lie back down, I’ll wake you when we get to the motel.” Merry’s head didn’t move, and he was still staring out the window, and Pippin saw his eyes sparkling with an unusual brightness.

“I’m not sleepy,” he whispered back. Shifting his weight, he was reminded of the little package in his back pocket. “Oh, Mer! I forgot, I got something for you earlier today, at that rest stop with the scale model of the Alamo all those kids were climbing over.” Merry finally turned to face Pippin now, still not smiling, and if he was blinking a little more than usual, Pippin was not going to be the one to point it out. Instead, he wriggled a little and fished out the plastic bag, ripping it open.

“It’s just a leather necklace,” he explained, uncoiling the soft, braided leather. “But it seemed right for you.” He moved Merry’s hair out of the way, tying the cord into place. Merry’s hands reached up to ghost over the round braid, and Pippin was rewarded with a warm smile, and the last of the sadness leaving Merry’s eyes.

“Thank you, Pippin,” he murmured. “Very much.” He leaned over to give a perfunctory kiss of thanks, but Pippin held it, softened it.

Merry was really smiling when he pulled back, and Pippin mirrored him. His eyebrows rose, however, when Merry pushed at him to lie back, stretched out along the backseat of the car. Pippin’s mouth opened, but Merry held one finger up to his lips, and he was still.

Merry then lay on top of him, a little awkward between Pippin’s legs, as the backseat of the car was a fair bit shorter than he was.

“Are you comfortable?” Merry asked, in the quietest of whispers. Pippin nodded emphatically, smiling as Merry kissed him deeply. Pippin used the advantage of his raised knees to hold Merry in place, letting his hands roam over Merry’s wide, warm back, just dipping the edges of his fingertips below the waistband. The rhythm of the car running over the highway was like a heartbeat, like breathing, and Pippin melted into it as Merry melted into him.

Pippin was perfectly happy to keep kissing, exploring the warm mouth over his, but Merry had other ideas. Ideas that involved trailing his mouth down and across Pippin’s jaw, leaving a streak of warm, wet kisses. Ideas that involved Merry gently nipping at Pippin’s earlobe, and running his tongue along the shell of Pippin’s ear, pulling it into his mouth to suck on lightly, and follow its curves and dips with his very, very clever tongue.

Pippin gasped silently, his back arching at the heat and warmth. He could do nothing else but close his eyes and try to be quiet, clenching the loose folds of Merry’s shirt in his fists. His hands relaxed, after a time, and wandered downwards to cup Merry’s rump, the soft curves fitting his hands perfectly. Smiling a little, Pippin slipped his hands underneath Merry’s shorts, underneath his boxers, and squeezed tightly. He was rewarded with a muffled moan, and Merry moving his attention.

He was kissing Pippin again, kisses deeper and sweeter than any Pippin had ever been given, and then Merry was moving his legs so he was balanced on his knees, Pippin between him. Merry reached between them and very lightly ran his hand over the hardness that had appeared nearly the same instant Merry had lain on him. Pippin’s gasp was muffled by Merry’s mouth, but the way his hips pushed upward, yearning for more pressure, spoke his need.

“Please…” he trailed off, whispering softly. Merry nodded, and dipped his head again to sprinkle Pippin’s face with kisses.

“Anything,” he murmured, and pressed harder, measuring Pippin through the thick cotton fabric. He began to rub, rhythmically, and Pippin’s hips began to move in time to the rubbing.

And then Merry slowly, too slowly, unbuttoned and unzipped, and then Pippin was against Merry’s own warm hand. A warm hand that was slowly stroking him.

“Wait--,“ he gasped, and Merry stopped, concern putting that line back between his brows. But Pippin’s hands were quick, and freed Merry’s own aching need, and they were clever too.

Pippin stroked, moving more quickly as he spread the first beads of wetness. Their hips met in a wild rhythm that had nothing to do with what was on the radio, and everything to do with their heartbeats, and the flecks of gold in Pippin’s eyes, and Merry’s lips, warm and wet and a kiss-bruised red.

Merry kissed him, and moved his hand so he could lie against Pippin, and their cocks met, and Pippin wondered if he’d survive. Merry reached between them again, wrapping his other arm behind Pippin’s neck and holding his head up so they could kiss deeply, their tongues plunging into each others’ mouths. He started to stroke them, together, and then he bucked his hips, and Pippin felt heat explode from some point between his legs. Merry, again, swallowed his cry and he shook and quivered with pleasure, a few tears leaking from his eyes with the force of his orgasm. And then Merry was coming, and warmth bathed Pippin’s hand, and he blearily recognized that Merry had done the same for him, to keep their shirts clean. It didn’t matter so much, just then, because Merry was heavy and warm in Pippin’s arms, and he was chanting Pippin’s name softly, and they were kissing each other wherever they could reach, not caring anymore if Legolas or Frodo heard.

It may have been a little awkward, but Pippin wasn’t going to move for the world, lying there in each others’ arms, all tangled together.

“All that for a five-dollar necklace? Merry, I’m buying you gifts every chance I get,” Pippin teased, nipping at Merry’s nose. Merry, though, smiled and kissed him back, long and deep.

“Not quite, Pip. Simply because you’re kind, and sweet in everything you do, and because you are.” And Pippin had to hide his blushes in Merry’s shoulder for a little while, but that was really okay, because it meant he could hold Merry close for that much longer.

Merry sat up first, after a bit, untangling himself from Pippin’s legs, and finding paper napkins from some fast-food stop to clean the two of them up. They were quite methodical, playing a game that any spot that needed to be wiped also needed kissing, and maybe a lick or a nip for good measure.

When they had finished with that, though, it was Merry who was in Pippin’s lap, lying on his back and smiling happily up. Pippin ran his thumb across Merry’s lips, slowly and thoughtfully, and then clasped Merry’s hand, lacing their fingers together. They sat in comfortable silence, and he watched Merry’s eyes close, and his breathing grow deep and even. The roadside still passed by and Legolas still sang every once in awhile, until Frodo’s cell phone rang, jolting Merry awake.

Jolting Frodo awake too, who then sleepily reached for the phone.

“’lo?” he mumbled, yawning. “Unh. Uh-hunh. Okay. Thanks Aragorn, we’ll meet you there.” He hung up, scrubbing at his eyes with a fist. “We’re pulling off at that Motel Six up ahead, guys. Real beds, and soon.” He smiled a little, turning around, and Pippin smiled back. Merry had started to doze off again in his lap, but mumbled some nonsense to show he’d heard.

“Lovely,” Legolas declared. “I could use a bed, and so could our backseat lovers. Lads, next time, don’t try to be quiet, I’d rather enjoy the show without having to turn the radio down.”

Pippin blinked, half-hoping he’d misunderstood, but Merry shot upright. “You heard?” he yelped, turning red.

Frodo whipped around again. “Heard what?” he demanded, and then groaned. “Merry! You didn’t!”

Pippin, who’d gotten a wink and an air-kiss from Legolas into the rearview mirror, grinned at Frodo. “We did, dear Fro, though I’m afraid you slept right through it.”

Frodo simply rolled his eyes, and turned back around, while Pippin took the opportunity to kiss Merry once more.

Return to Kalimac