To Capture the Heart of a Warrior

chapter two: Little Teacher

As Boromir readied for sleep after a particularly hard night’s march, he was surprised when, upon lying down, Pippin pounced on him and tugged his beard.

He barked with laughter and grabbed Pippin about the waist. “So you have come to beard the old lion in his den, little cub?”

“Aye, I have.” Pippin smiled. “Or rather, I have come to bell you.”

“To bell me, like a cat?”

“Aye.” Pippin nodded. There was that mischievous smile again.

“And how, do tell, are you to do that?”

Pippin only crawled beneath the blankets. “Like this,” he said, and giving Boromir a brief peck on the cheek, he laid his head on Boromir’s shoulder and sighed contentedly. “Goodnight, Boromir.”

“Sleep well, Little One.” Boromir bid him, and settled in for the night. He fell asleep with a smile on his face. He could not have related what he dreamt, but he could have said his dreams were quite pleasant.

But he woke suddenly. His eyes flew open. Something was touching his face, and it turned out to be Pippin’s small hand, caressing his bearded chin.

“Oh!” Pippin gasped, surprised at having been caught. Their eyes locked. “Oh,” said Pippin, this time softly, gently. He dipped his head and kissed Boromir’s cheek again, this time lingering a little. He laid his head back on Boromir’s shoulder. This time, Boromir could bear it no more.

He took Pippin’s chin in his hand and gently raised the small face, forcing Pippin to look at him. Boromir’s keen eyes seemed to look right into Pippin, and the hobbit trembled a little. No words were said, but much was spoken. Boromir pulled Pippin close and at last, he was able to taste the mouth he had so long hungered for.

It was glorious. Pippin tasted as sweet as he smelled. The halfling seemed to melt in his arms, and his shapely, soft bow of a little mouth opened a little. A small tongue reached out to explore the much larger mouth. Boromir tightened his embrace, shuddering. They only broke when the others began to rise. Pippin was flushed a glowing pink, his lips moist. His bright green eyes now seemed to carry green coals in their depths, as though little green flames lived there. He panted heavily, then at the sound of stirrings in the camp, rolled his eyes and gave a grunt of disgust. He laid his head once more on Boromir’s shoulder, as if to pin Boromir down, determined not to rise until he must.

Boromir lay with his halfling in his arms and wondered what he had done to deserve such a blessing. As for the nightly march, both Boromir and Pippin found it no trouble at all. They both felt as though they walked not upon the stony ground of Hollin, but some far kindlier place. Pippin’s little hand was often folded in Boromir’s far larger one, and they frequently exchanged silent gazes. It was quite obvious: they were mutually besotted. Had they had eyes and ears for any one but themselves, they might have noted certain hobbits, wizards, men, elves and dwarves had self-satisfied smiles on their faces and muttered amongst themselves of a job well done. They were so absorbed in their earlier exchanges and the promise held that they never noticed that they had been chosen to “look for firewood.”

As soon as they were out of sight and earshot of the others, Boromir lifted Pippin, sat on a pile of soft, golden leaves and held Pippin, who sat astride Boromir’s thighs, in his lap. Pippin threw himself at Boromir with a will and a passion that robbed them both of breath. His kisses were hot and hungry, almost unforgiving. Boromir could not help but respond. He slowly traced the shape of Pippin’s mouth with the tip of his tongue, then sucked, licked and nibbled them before slowly easing his tongue inside the little mouth. Oh, so sweet, so sweet…

Boromir kissed a chain of soft, tender pecks down Pippin’s chin to his neck. He lingered there, savoring the sweet taste of Pippin’s soft throat. Pippin softly mewed like a kitten, and pressed a little closer. Boromir then kissed a little trail to that pointed little ear. Pippin began to pant.

Boromir pulled away. “How did that feel?” he smiled. He drew his knees up so that Pippin could use his legs as a backrest. Pippin leaned back onto them and threw his arms wide, then hugged himself. He was beaming.

“Like fire, fire on my skin, fire inside me…oh, do it again!”

Boromir took Pippin’s little shoulders in his hands, rubbing them softly up and down as though trying to memorize the exact warmth and feel.

“Alright,” he answered.

He pulled the Little One to him, wrapped his arms around the little form firmly but gently, lowered his head and again kissed Pippin, slowly, deeply and softly. Pippin answered the kiss with passion mixed with tenderness. He offered his little ear to Boromir again, and Boromir accepted it with a slow, slight smile. He played there until Pippin seemed ready to ignite in his arms. Pippin was breathing heavily now, his eyes aglitter with the passion burning in him. Boromir felt small hands explore his broad chest and drift lower and lower, until they reached his belt buckle.

Boromir took in a breath with a hiss, seizing Pippin’s wrists.

“Wait!” he said.

Pippin looked at Boromir for some time. At last he said, “What’s wrong, Boromir? Are you afraid the blade won’t fit the sheath? I assure you it will.”

“I…I know not what to say.” Boromir looked away and blushed furiously.

Pippin took his face between his small hands, such gentle, little hands, and made Boromir look at him.

“Do you mean you don’t know what to do?” Pippin asked softly, kindly.

Boromir tried to look away again, but Pippin would have none of that.

“Oh, dear,” said Pippin. “You’ve not done this before, then?”

Boromir’s head bowed. “I am sorry, Pippin. No, I have not. Are you disappointed?”

The last thing he expected was a soft laugh from Pippin, and when he heard it, at first he thought he was being mocked. This thought was swiftly banished by Pippin’s next remark.

“Oh, my dear, sweet, innocent ass! No, I could not be more pleased!”

Boromir finally looked Pippin in his eyes once more. What he found was more than understanding. It was that, yes, but underneath it all was unbridled lust.

“I think I do not quite understand.” Boromir said. He looked a little frightened to Pippin. This melted the little hobbit’s heart, and at once fanned the flame of desire. Pippin smiled gently, laughing soft and low.

“Oh, you dear, sweet, innocent lad,” Pippin smiled lovingly. “I have waited a long time for someone like you. Someone who doesn’t know how to use me, someone I could teach to love me, not just mount me like a ram.” He continued to hold Boromir’s face gently but firmly. “You do want that, don’t you? Yes; you quite do, I can see.”

Boromir seemed paralyzed for a long moment, then he circled Pippin with his arms and pulled him close. With one hand, he cupped the halfling’s head and pressed Pippin’s ear to his chest.

“Can you not hear it?” he asked.

“What, Boromir?”

“My heart. It is asking you to take it, for it no longer wishes to stay with me. I give it to you to do as you will.” He released a long, shuddering sigh.

“Don’t say such a thing if you don’t mean it,” said Pippin. He looked at Boromir with down-drawn brows. He was surprised to see Boromir’s eyes were quite misty; no tears, no, but not far from it. He’d never seen such genuine tenderness in a lover’s eyes before.

“Pippin, do you know how long I’ve wanted this? No, I did not think so. I’ve wanted this from the first time I saw you. I wanted you so much it frightened me; it frightens me still.” Boromir paused and sighed heavily. He took Pippin’s little chin with two fingers and stroked a thumb across those perfect lips. “Yet I would do nothing, because I feared that if I did it would drive you away from me, and that I could not bear. You have been carrying my heart around like a pocket-watch, and you didn’t even know it. How much more of my heart do you think you now possess?”

“It had better be all of it, Boromir. I’m very jealous, I’ll tell you now.” Pippin said, looking at Boromir sharply for a reaction. “I mean it. I cannot have my heart broken again. If that happens, I’ll never love again.”

“It will not happen. I would do anything you wish of me. I would die for you if you only asked.”

“Gandalf tells me the Men of Minas Tirith do not idly swear. If you swear it, then I believe you.”

“I do, I swear that I love you, Pippin, you and only you.” Boromir relaxed as he saw a small smile begin to play around that sweet little mouth. “I’ll go further than that. I have never loved another, not like this. I have shared a bed or two with a woman or two, here and there, now and then, but love? Nay, I have only ever loved you, Peregrin Took. You are my first love, and my last. I swear that, too.”

“And do you ask me to swear?” Pippin asked.

“Only when you are ready. I ask nothing but that you let me love you. If you wish to give me your heart, nothing will bring me more joy. But I will humbly take what I can get for now.”

‘Then you may just stand a chance of getting my heart, Boromir.” Pippin suddenly grinned. “In fact, you said just the right thing just now. You are well on the way to having my heart, more than you know.” Pippin reached out a little hand and caressed Boromir’s cheek. “Your first love, eh? I don’t think you calculated that to excite my passions, but it has done so.” Pippin leaned in and kissed Boromir hungrily, almost roughly.

Boromir found his arms had looped around the halfling and were pulling him close of their own accord. They seemed to know just how snugly to hold a halfling. Boromir warmed to the task of kissing Pippin back.

Finally their lips parted and Pippin snuggled close to Boromir, enjoying the warm strength of those hard muscles that held him so softly.

“And you say you loved me from the first, then? Really?” asked the little Took.

“Aye, and much to my surprise. I was helpless.” Boromir said, speaking with his nose buried in the golden-brown curls. “Did you not notice how I lost control of myself when you were around? Everyone else noticed.”

Pippin pulled back, regarded him sharply. “Everyone?”

“Aye. Everyone, much to my embarrassment.”

“Then why did Aragorn kiss me?” Pippin asked of himself, not realizing he’d spoken aloud. There was a considerable pause, finally interrupted by a low growl, like that of a grumbling lion.

“What?” Boromir rumbled.

“Oh dear. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that.”

Boromir glared now. “What else did he do?”

“Nothing, nothing! My, Boromir, are you jealous, too?”

“Oh, aye…” Boromir muttered. He looked furious. “I’m going to…”

“No, no, you are not! I don’t want Aragorn, or Legolas, either.”

“What? Legolas? Pippin, did he…?”

“He didn’t kiss me, he didn’t! Calm yourself now, my sweet boy! But I thought he was going to. They did that the first night I slept with you.”

“Is this, then, what frightened you into my bed?”

“Why, yes, Boromir, that was it.”

“I begin to see. We have been pushed together, Pippin, my sweet; you and I.”

“I think you are right. We have been pushed.” Pippin looked very serious for a brief flash, then grinned wickedly. “And I’m very glad they did it, too.” He regarded Boromir from under his lashes, then slowly smiled and leaned in and tipped his head back in a silent command: kiss me, right now!

Boromir could only obey. They parted and Pippin again snuggled close to Boromir. He sighed happily. Boromir once more buried his nose in those curls. He breathed in the halfling’s sweet smell, kissed the crown of his head, and made a low, rumbling sound, like a great cat purring. “I am glad to have been pushed, too. But it was still wrong to do that to you, frighten you like that. We shall make them pay, and have a little fun as well. We shall get a little something out of this. I will show you.”

He lifted Pippin from his lap and stood him up in the soft leaves. “Now,” said Boromir, plucking a leaf from Pippin’s hair, “We shall get their firewood and take it back to them. Come, and watch as I show you I am truly your champion, my sweet. This is going to be great fun.”

They swiftly gathered wood together and carried it back to the campsite. Boromir and Pippin quietly put the bundles of wood down by Sam’s pots and pans. Boromir rose and brushed his gloved hands together. He slowly strolled towards Aragorn, and Pippin saw that Boromir wore a grim countenance. He casually brushed leaf debris from his chest, slowly removed his gloves, and slapped Aragorn across the cheek with them.

“That’s for violating Pippin,” he said. “You should be ashamed of yourself, frightening him like that. What, I wonder, would your Lady say?”

“Boromir, I…” started Aragorn, but Boromir cut him off.

“Nay, do not explain, I understand the why and wherefore, and do not think I don’t appreciate it. In fact, I do, more than I can say, but still, Aragorn…to frighten a Little One like that? My Little One. You should be above such devices.”

Then Boromir turned his tender affections towards Legolas, and gave the Elf the same treatment, a slap across the face with his gloves. “And you, Legolas Greenleaf? Pray tell me, what will Lord Thranduil say?”

“You…would not tell my father, would you?” Pippin had never seen an Elf stutter, but he supposed this was as close as they came.

“I would indeed. I may even speak with Lord Elrond.”

“Boromir, no!” said Aragorn, “Please, do not do that! What may we do to make amends?”

Boromir bent and lifted Pippin in his arms, settling the halfling on his hip. “What, my sweet, would you command of these, these two…” he turned and glared at Aragorn and Legolas. “Hobbyhorses?” he finished.

Hobbyhorses? Thought Pippin, Oh, that was good, my boy, very good!

“Well,” said Pippin, slowly and deliberately, enjoying watching Aragorn and Legolas squirm. “I think we two should be off all watches for a week. In fact, I think we should be well watched over, and do no watching ourselves. After all, they have made our bed…but we shall be the ones sleeping in it.”

“Well?” said Boromir sternly, “Do you agree to Master Took’s terms? Or do I extract a price myself, when I next see Lords Elrond and Thranduil?”

Aragorn and Legolas looked at Pippin and Boromir, seeming at first a little put out. But then they both smiled. Aragorn barked with a short laugh.

“So, Pippin, you would have us stand guard over your…dare I say it? Your bower?” Aragorn said.

“Aye,” Pippin said brazenly from the safety of Boromir’s arms “I think that will do nicely, yes. ‘Bower’ will do just fine...you two set it up, after all, I see no reason to not call it what it is.” He nodded in a self-satisfied manner. “Oh, one more condition…since you two will be guarding us, and by that, I mean our privacy as well as our persons, you will also choose the best place, and make our bed there each night for a week.”

Legolas raised an eyebrow. “Why, you little…”

Boromir growled softly. Aragorn jabbed Legolas in the ribs with an elbow. Boromir was, after all, very large, and this was Pippin, now Boromir’s sweetheart, Legolas was talking to. “Hold your tongue, Legolas, and just say, ‘Yes, Pippin.’”

Legolas looked hard at Pippin. Boromir growled a little louder, glowering. The warrior looked decided dangerous at this point. Aragorn gave Legolas a second jab with an elbow.

Finally the Elf relented. “Yes, Pippin.” He said sullenly.

“I don’t quite like the way you put that,” Boromir growled. “Try, ‘Yes, Master Took,’ why don’t you? And smile.”

At first Legolas fumed, but then he suddenly laughed at himself. “As you wish!” he said, “ ‘Yes, Master Took!’ Will that do, do you think?”

Boromir looked at Pippin, eyebrows raised in a silent question. Pippin grinned. “That will do quite nicely, I think.”

Boromir patted Aragorn’s shoulder. “Very well, then. If Pippin is satisfied, then so am I.” He put Pippin down, and with a playful swat to Pippin’s behind bid him, “Now go and talk with your fellow halflings a while.”

Pippin grinned hugely and adoringly at Boromir. This little act of coercion had made a favorable impression on Pippin, just as Boromir had hoped it would. The halfling scampered off to pester Sam about their meal and visit with Frodo and Merry.

Now Boromir turned back to the Elf and the Man. He bowed deeply to them. “And now, let me thank you two. You have helped to make me a very happy Man. My debt to you can never be repaid.”

“What?” said Legolas. “Does this, then, mean we are released from our obligations?”

Boromir looked at Legolas. His face was set, but his eyes sparkled. Was that a half-smile on his face? “Indeed, no. You heard Pippin; now choose a place and make our bed.”

Later, Legolas sat on the top of a huge boulder, which had an enormous overhang on one side, so that it was more like a small cave than anything else. In this small but accommodating enclosure, Legolas and Aragorn had made the bed for Pippin and Boromir, and now the two were snugly lying within it.

A tiny fire, smokeless but glowing, was just outside the little enclosure, and in its warm, red glow, the two lovers were quite lost looking into the depthless green of each other’s eyes. Pippin thought Boromir’s eyes were like green opals. Boromir thought Pippin’s eyes were like peridot. Green-on-green gazes, deep, tender and loving, had the two locked together, an enchantment made and broken at once.

Pippin moved first, of course; he was, after all, the teacher in this small place, with his large lover. He lightly kissed Boromir’s mouth, then a little more firmly. Boromir trembled against Pippin, and the halfling felt suddenly quite powerful, that he could so easily make tremble a Man, hardened by battle and death, like a tiny leaf in a fierce wind. Pippin moved a little so that he could reach Boromir’s ear with his lips, and there he smelled the wonderful scent of his Man, a scent like sandalwood, freshly cleaned leather and fresh wind and rain. Pippin kissed and sucked on the ear, marveling at the size and sensitivity he found there. Boromir moaned deep in his chest. Pippin again felt the surge of power course through him. Mine, he thought, already he is mine, and I haven’t even loved him yet.

“Are you frightened, sweet boy?” Pippin whispered into Boromir’s ear.

Boromir gave a hissing intake of breath. “Yes, I rather am, to be honest.” answered Boromir. “I don’t know very much, only what I’ve heard over the years.”

“Then I shall just have to teach you.” Pippin said, pressing his small, smiling mouth against Boromir’s cheek. “Think of it like this: the map may differ, but you walk the paths in much the same way.”

Boromir chuckled. “First, it’s “the blade will fit the sheath,” and now it’s maps and paths!” He kissed Pippin’s face. “My, but you have a way with words, Little Teacher.”

“Aye, I do,” agreed Pippin cheekily, “Now listen to Teacher, and give us a kiss! A long one.” There was a long pause during which Boromir seemed to be lost in Pippin’s eyes. He trembled yet again.

“Alright,” Boromir said, smiling back at his Little One. He happily obeyed.

The kiss was indeed a long one, and quite tender, but soon the fevered fury of Pippin’s lust began to show itself and to echo within Boromir and to expand. Like relentless waves on a stormy beach, their passions rose higher and higher. Boromir began to growl and Pippin to mew.

Tenderly, Pippin began to undress Boromir, loving it when Boromir trembled at the slightest touch of his fingers. He had this Man in thrall, and it again filled him with a sense of power and control. At last, Boromir was finally naked, except for his vambraces. Pippin wanted him to leave those on, though Boromir didn’t understand why. The big Man trembled still, like a high-strung stallion ready to bolt. And that’s what it made Pippin think of, a great thoroughbred stallion of fine bloodlines, strong and agile and spirited, but one which yearned for the caress of his master’s hand, the soft reassurances of his master’s voice. Pippin stroked Boromir’ cheek and spoke soothingly to him.

“Now, don’t be afraid, dear boy, don’t be afraid. You’ll do fine; I’ll show you the way. I want you to undress me now,” Pippin instructed, his voice soft and even, comforting and cajoling.

Boromir’s head was swimming. It was true, he was frightened. He was frightened he would do something wrong, or everything wrong. He wanted so badly to please Pippin, wanted it so deeply he could scarcely hold a single thought together. His mouth was dry and his hands shook terribly, but he managed it at last, slowly savoring the soft skin he found underneath the offending garments. Pippin gently encouraged him with a soft, even tone of voice, speaking sweetly to him, guiding him gently as he touched and stroked Boromir’s face and body soothingly. Boromir found himself captivated by the sweet little body he gradually revealed with his shaking hands. Pippin’s little chest was covered with a light dusting of fine gold hair. His nipples were small and strawberry pink. Boromir trailed his fingers slowly across the little chest, delighting in the baby-softness of the fine hair that sparsely grew there. Small Pippin might be, but his charms were quite masculine, even though his skin was soft as silk and his slight form lithe and lissome. No, this was nothing like a girl, and Boromir loved the difference. He’d never once desired any male. Only women and girls had ever held his interest, but this one, this little halfling lad…no, not girlish at all, but Isildur’s Teeth! Oh, so desirable…so beautiful!

“Now,” said Boromir, “let me learn this new map,” he said, and captured one of the tiny nipples in his hungry mouth. Pippin’s skin tasted as sweet as the halfing smelled, very much like a red, ripe apple in an autumnal orchard. Boromir moaned into that sweet taste, and Pippin squirmed with the heat of it. Panting, he pushed Boromir onto his back, then climbed atop him. He stretched out along the big body beneath him, relishing the sheer size of his lover. He found Boromir was like a luxurious, princely bed, big and warm and firm and very welcoming.

He pulled himself up to Boromir’s face, pressing his mouth to Boromir’s lips almost forcefully. Boromir groaned with the delight of it, and his trembling turned into an outright shudder. Pippin felt a pair of enormous arms surround him; arms strong enough to crush him like an egg settled around him softly and gently in an embrace that was light as a feather, yet strong as steel, tender and gentle, yet somehow inescapable. Pippin’s kiss bore down on Boromir’s mouth almost roughly. His shapely little mouth pried Boromir’s lips apart, and Pippin drove his tongue inside the big mouth forcefully.

Pippin decided when to pull away, and Boromir let him, though reluctantly. The warrior, hardened and toughened by battle and death as he was, pouted like a child. This amused Pippin and melted his heart at the same time. But pretty pout or no, Pippin had other plans; he wanted far more than kissing, wonderful as it was. Slowly Pippin slid his little form down, down until he finally arrived at the desired destination, the fork of Boromir’s thighs, where he captured Boromir with his small mouth. Boromir gazed down past his chest and belly to watch as Pippin played his body like a musical instrument. To his delight Pippin wore a dreamy expression on his sweet face. Pippin was doing this to pleasure his lover, yes, but he was also doing it because he wanted it. Even better, because he loved it. The large, green eyes gazed brazenly at him, looking him right in the eye. Knowing he was being watched seemed to whet the halfling’s appetite even further. He moaned in his high, sweet voice, savoring the taste, feel and size of his Man in his mouth.

So big! The girth filled Pippin’s mouth until his little bowed lip was stretched tightly around the flesh. He couldn’t take Boromir very deeply, but he knew how to use his hands so that Boromir would scarcely be able to tell the difference.

Pippin was for once glad he’d had so many lovers. Had he not, he wouldn’t have this skill, and it was a skill he was very good at. Not only his hands were skilled; Boromir soon found that Pippin’s tongue was quite talented, more so than the mouth and tongue of any woman he’d ever had. Boromir’s head swam with the intensity of both his pleasure and Pippin’s demanding hunger. Pippin moaned around the thick flesh, and from the look on his face Boromir could tell that the halfling took as much pleasure as he was giving.

The big warrior gasped and seemed to melt, and again Pippin felt the rush of power. How helpless Boromir was! The big body quivered under Pippin’s skilled and experienced ministrations. Boromir was too excited to suit Pippin; he wanted this to last, so he meant to take Boromir this way swiftly and thoroughly, to make him last longer for a more lengthy and thorough lesson. Pippin felt two big hands caressing his curls softly and gently with trembling fingers. Boromir murmured Pippin’s name over and over. Even his voice was tremulous. He seemed as weak as a kitten and helpless as a newborn lamb to Pippin, and the power he held over this Man was intoxicating. Pippin’s own pleasure was increased tenfold by the hold he had over Boromir.

The halfling became more impassioned than ever seeing the effect he had on Boromir. He worked the flesh in his little mouth and hands with a desire he had thought lost to him. It didn’t take long, and this fact underlined to Pippin the depth of Boromir’s hunger so long deferred. Boromir’s body arched; he grunted like a stallion. The flood was copious, salty-sweet and powerful. Pippin moaned with the pleasure of the taste and feel of Boromir’s climax. The Man’s flesh throbbed in Pippin’s small mouth, and Pippin was so aroused by it that he nearly loosed his own flood, but forced himself to maintain control. Not a single drop of the pearly flood was lost or wasted. What Pippin couldn’t swallow, he lapped up off the shaft and from the patch of coppery hair it sprang from, and even from Boromir’s navel. Pippin’s tongue was small but demanding, and its feathery touch forgave nothing and drove Boromir relentlessly, both demanding and promising greater pleasure yet to come.

The halfling had to force himself to do it, but he finally tore himself away from this fleshly banquet. His golden-brown curls were wet with sweat; his entire body flushed pink with desire. He rolled off of Boromir and hurriedly scrambled through his pack. Boromir could see that even Pippin’s back glistened with sweat. The Little One bit his lower lip with frustration at not being able to find what he was searching for swiftly enough. His mouth was wet and glistening and swollen with desire. Now Pippin, too, trembled, he was so aroused, so hungry for fulfillment. He finally found the little jar of ointment he kept for just this purpose, and handed it to Boromir. Then he scrambled up and lay once more atop his Man, and gave Boromir a searing, demanding kiss. Boromir could taste his own juices in Pippin’s mouth, and somehow it made him all the more ready to please Pippin and himself.

“Your fingers, first,” Pippin instructed. His voice, usually so high and sweet was now husky with desire, somewhere between a purr and a growl. “Hurry, my sweet boy, I cannot wait!” Boromir grasped the idea immediately, and dipped his fingers into the jar. Pippin rolled off of Boromir and lay on his back with his knees bent. The bright green eyes burned into Boromir in a silent demand, no, more than a demand, a command. The halfling’s hunger would not be denied. Boromir hovered over him on all fours, then gingerly lowered his body so as not to crush his Little One. Pippin’s body trembled so violently with need that Boromir felt he must first just hold the little form gently, which he did, stroking Pippin’s body with soft, circular caresses. Instead of calming Pippin, this increased his eagerness even more, and now Pippin not only trembled, he whimpered and panted. Boromir delighted in the response, and he slowly caressed Pippin until he writhed beneath Boromir wantonly.

Such passion! Boromir loved the way Pippin reacted to even the lightest and slightest touch, and he explored the small body beneath him to further excite his Little One. He took great delight in Pippin’s tiny navel, and liked how Pippin’s little tummy tightened with an agony of anticipation when he trailed his fingertips from navel to the little nest of hair where Pippin’s small member stood, throbbing and as hard as stone. Boromir’s large hand slid past this and gently slipped down into the little divide in the halfling’s sweetly round little behind.

His fingers soon found their mark, and he began to explore inside, taking note of what movement and depth relaxed Pippin the best, then he slipped more fingers in, thrusting them in and out until Pippin mewled. There was a little spot deep inside the halfling that, when Boromir’s fingertips massaged it, made Pippin writhe and whimper with pleasure. This, then, was where he needed to be once he was inside Pippin. His Little One was now drenched with sweat and the panting had become a low, steady moan punctuated with sharp gasps. Yes, his Little One was ready, more than ready, he seemed about to burst into flame. A playful mood overtook Boromir, and he felt the urge to tease Pippin a bit.

“How is it, my sweet?” asked Boromir. He was grinning down at Pippin with a wicked look and a somewhat arrogant grin.

“Awful Man!” Pippin half-scolded. “Oh, you conceited, arrogant thing! Oh! Yes, yes…you should be conceited, you should be arrogant. Mmm- oh! More…”

Boromir obliged. He could feel Pippin’s hardness pressing desperately against him, and his own flesh answered eagerly. “And now?” he asked.

“Oh, so good, oh…oh, please…please…” the halfling licked his swollen lips. “Please, oh, please, please, please…”

“Yes, my sweet?”

“Oh, don’t be like that, sweet boy, please, Boromir, please…”

“Do I displease you, my sweet?”

“No, you know you don’t, awful Man, no, not at all. I want more, Boromir, I want you! I want you inside me, sweet boy.”

“Then you don’t like it? I’m not doing it right?”

“Oh, you know I do, awful Man! You’re doing it wonderfully…and…and you know it.”

“Are you sure? I can stop, if you but wish it.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Then you are content with my hands?’

“No, no…”

“Then you don’t like it?”

“Oh, yes, I love it…”

“Then I shall just do this?”

“Yes…No! Oh, I don’t know!”

“Perhaps we should stop. You are in such a state, and after all, you are quite young and need your sleep.”

“No! No, no, no, don’t stop, Boromir, please! Please!”

“Then what do you wish, love?’

“Please, please, oh please…do anything you wish, anything at all, just don’t stop!”

“Anything?” Boromir smiled, then lowered his head and kissed Pippin in his most fiery kiss yet. At last they parted again.

Pippin gasped. “Oh, don’t tease, now…I need you, sweet boy. Now come inside, dear boy, listen to Teacher. You mustn’t tease Teacher.”

Boromir hesitated. Pippin regarded him with eyes that burned with green flame.

“Oh, don’t be shy, sweet boy, just do as I say and all will be…wonderful.”

“Yes,” Boromir said, suddenly quite sober. “As you wish, my sweet. Anything you wish, anything at all…”

Boromir positioned himself and made ready to do as he was bid.

“It will hurt a little at first,” said Pippin. “When I tell you to stop…”

“I will, I promise.”

“Now, then, love, kiss me, and come inside.”

Boromir’s heart skipped a beat. Pippin had used the word “love.” Boromir thought he had never heard so sweet a word in his life, and from the lips of the one that he loved as he had never loved anyone in his life. Somehow it made him feel both humbled and at once as if he ruled the world. He looked deeply into the burning green eyes, and it seemed to Pippin as if Boromir willingly threw himself into those flames, as if he were sacrificing himself on an alter that lay only in Pippin’s eyes.

“Yes, my sweet,” he answered. He kissed Pippin’s lips tenderly, then each temple and the tip of his sweet little nose. He even kissed Pippin’s eyelids, then returned to the small, gently smiling lips once again, letting his mouth first brush the bow of his Little One’s upper lip, then taking Pippin’s entire mouth into his own. Boromir tenderly used his tongue to part those sweet, small lips, then ever so slowly slid his tongue inside to fill Pippin’s small mouth completely. The kiss was deep, tender, searing; surrender and capture all at once. He pressed his flesh against Pippin’s small bottom and carefully pushed. It took patience and gentle pressure, and then he felt Pippin’s body respond and open to his eager probing. He slid inside his halfling until Pippin gasped. Boromir felt tiny fingers dig into the flesh of his chest and Pippin gave a whimper that was partly a cry of passion and partly a cry of pain, maybe even a little fear. Yet the halfling didn’t push Boromir away, but instead wrapped his slim legs around Boromir’s waist as if he feared Boromir might try to escape.

“Wait, now, love,” he said. “Oh, you’re so big, bigger than I thought…give me a moment, love…”

“Oh, I’m sorry, my sweet, I’m so sorry…” Boromir tenderly kissed Pippin, forcing himself with all his will to restrain himself. “Are you sure you want this? Perhaps the blade will not fit the sheath, after all.”

“No, love, don’t stop, just give me time to…ah, Boromir, I want it so much!”

Pippin panted, trying to force himself to relax. He’d had Men before, but none quite so thick and long as Boromir. Boromir was so big it was almost as if this was Pippin’s first time. How much of Boromir was inside him? Could he take the size of it? Pippin took a few deep breaths, stroking Boromir’s sides with his fingertips. He nibbled the flesh of Boromir’s chest, and found the taste musky, masculine and completely sensual. Boromir trembled even more than before. Soon Pippin’s heels dug into Boromir’s back, giving the signal he had waited on, and Boromir filled Pippin a little more deeply. Pippin whimpered.

“You are bigger than I thought,” Pippin gasped.

“Shall I stop, my sweet?”

“No, no, don’t you dare stop. A little more, now, love.”

Boromir gave another push, and suddenly something inside Pippin opened up, blossoming like a flower, and the little heels spurred him to thrust deeper yet. Pippin groaned with unmistakable pleasure now, and it sounded like the growl of a little cat mating. He must have found the little place inside of Pippin that had made him writhe with pleasure as Boromir had explored inside him with his fingers. Sure that he had found just the right place, Boromir thrusted deeply, making sure he struck that special place again. Once more Pippin gave a little growl of pleasure. Yes, there it was, the little sensitive spot Boromir had found with his fingers. Yes, just there, and oh, how his Little One responded!

It was quite plain that Pippin loved this, and Boromir intended to make Pippin feel such pleasure that he’d never want another. He adjusted the depth and angle of his thrusts to better fill Pippin with pleasure, making his strokes slow and short with little circular movements as their bodies came flush with one another. The results were better than Boromir had hoped. His halfling threw his arms around Boromir’s neck so tightly it was hard to breathe. His Little One met Boromir thrust for thrust. A fine sweat formed on the delightful little bow lip, and it sparkled as though dusted with tiny diamonds. Boromir took the little upper lip between his own lips and gently sucked and nibbled on it, then drew his tongue across Pippin’s lips before letting it slide smoothly, deeply inside that tiny mouth. Pippin suckled on the big tongue as if it were Boromir’s organ. He sucked on Boromir’s lower lip, then gently nibbled it. He was gasping now, his breath sawing in and out with a husky, rasping sound punctuated with the occasional soft, high whimper.

“Oh! Oh, Boromir!” he cried, “I’ve never felt so good before, love, never. Oh, what are you doing to me?”

“Little halfling, oh my sweet Little One…oh! I cannot bear it…”

“Yes, sweet boy, yes….faster, now, faster and harder…” Pippin’s eyelids fluttered. “Deeper, now, love, yes, yes, just like that…oh, love, never stop, never stop!”

“Little Teacher…Little Teacher…” Boromir moaned, and began to thrust deeply. Pippin wanted him to go faster, but Boromir had no intention of rushing this, and instead slowed his rhythm. This was just too wonderful to rush through. Pippin continued to dig his heels into Boromir’s back as if he were spurring on a horse.

Boromir had never felt anything so wonderful in his life. Not even the most skilled courtesan could do this to him. He felt as though a wild river was rushing through his veins, and his Little One beneath him dug his heels in yet harder, spurring him on, like he was a stallion at stud.

“Oh, my sweet, my little catamite…” he groaned.

“Yes, love, yes,” Pippin gasped, meeting Boromir’s every thrust with a driving, demanding hunger. Boromir felt himself being controlled by this Little One beneath him, and he had never liked feeling controlled, but this…ah, could anything be sweeter than to surrender to his Little One’s hunger?

“My Pippin, my sweet, oh, my love…” he groaned.

“Oh, oh, nothing has ever been this good before, oh Boromir, my Boromir, my own…” Pippin suddenly tightened his arms around Boromir’s neck and, sinking his teeth into Boromir’s flesh, cried out in a shuddering, sobbing cry of passion as he reached his greatest pleasure. Boromir could feel the hot, wet proof of Pippin’s pleasure as it splashed between them and pooled on Pippin’s belly. Boromir could feel his sweetly small, perfect staff throbbing between their two bodies. Somehow even the smarting bite Pippin gave him became a source of pleasure.

As for Boromir, the second he felt Pippin clench around him, he lost all control, and began to thrust wildly, deeply and swiftly. Pippin bucked beneath him, whimpering and gasping, riding wave after wave of pleasure. Little fingernails dug into Boromir’s skin as if Pippin were afraid he would be ripped away from the very earth by his pleasure. Boromir threw his head back, and with a great roar like a wild but fettered beast, cried out in a wordless howl of pleasure as he emptied himself inside Pippin’s hot, pulsating little body. Great gray blotches obscured his vision.

As for Pippin, he felt a scalding liquid fire inside him, and it burned so high the flames licked at his heart and even his soul. His own pleasure had peaked, yet as Boromir reached his own completion, Pippin suddenly was taken by a second storm of pleasure. Even as Boromir lost himself in the fires of passion, so Pippin was again consumed in his second flame, so close on the heels of the first he was sure he would faint.

Boromir could hear the weak, high cry he made, and was astounded at the swiftness with which Pippin had been once more taken. For Boromir, it made his own pleasure all the more complete. At last they lay together gasping. Boromir’s arms quivered, and, fearing he would collapse on his Little One, he rolled off and onto his back once more in one smooth, swift movement. Pippin sat astride him, his hair dripping with sweat, a passion-tangled mop of wet, unruly curls. Somehow Boromir had managed to stay inside that little body, and Pippin now leaned back and put his weight into making sure Boromir stayed right where he was. Boromir bent his knees to make a comfy backrest for his Little One, and Pippin gratefully leaned back on them, gasping, trembling and weak.

“Well, that never happened to me before. Now, sweet boy, what do you say to that?” Pippin said with a little wriggle.

“I say, ‘thank you, Little Teacher.’ Oh, Pippin, has anything ever been so wonderful? It hasn’t for me.”

“Nor for me, sweet boy.”

“You like calling me that, don’t you?” Boromir said. He was grinning, and he let his hands rest on Pippin’s thighs. He skated his hands down the length of those legs to caress the furry little feet, then slid them back up to Pippin’s thighs again. Pippin gave another little wriggle.

“I do, yes, because you are my sweet boy. So sweet, so unknowing. Do you even know what you do to me, my love?”

“May it be the same as what you do to me!” Boromir said, laughing, “If it is, then you are certainly my own.”

Pippin’s face suddenly sobered. He gazed into Boromir’s eyes. Boromir’s hands moved a little higher, until they were not on Pippin’s thighs, but cupping the small prize that lay between them. He grasped Pippin gently and began to massage Pippin there. Pippin wriggled even more.

“Boromir, my goodness! Are you ready again, so soon?”

“Yes, and no,” Boromir answered. “First, there is one more thing.”

“And what is that, my love?”

Boromir put his hands about Pippin’s waist and lifted him off the already-engorged flesh that impaled the halfling. He pulled Pippin bodily to his chest and sat him down across it, so that Pippin nearly straddled his face.

“Another lesson, my Little Teacher.”

Pippin grinned down at Boromir, eyes sparkling delightfully, and squirming into position, let himself down and into Boromir’s ready mouth. Pippin was in bliss. Of course he had done this before, but it had been only when he’d asked for it. This was the first time a lover had asked for it, and from how Boromir was responding, it was as though Boromir wanted this more than any lover Pippin had ever had before. The mouth was large and deep, and far more than accommodating, it was demanding. Pippin could do no less than oblige.

Boromir took his time, lingering at his task as long as he could, making Pippin become more and more excited, more and more demanding. Pippin began to thrust into that large mouth lustily, and Boromir sucked on him harder and more deeply than Pippin thought possible. The Little One curled his fingers into Boromir’s mane and, throwing his head back, wailed as his flesh and fluids were drunk down. Gasping, Pippin slid back down, and reaching behind him, guided Boromir’s flesh deep inside him once more. He began to rock back and forth as he tried to catch his breath. The Man seemed bigger than ever, now, piercing him more deeply than Pippin had thought possible. He looked down at Boromir, gazing helplessly up at him, once more in thrall to the halfling that rode him as if he were a stallion. Yet again, Pippin felt power surge through him. Oh, but it was so exciting, being able to turn Boromir into a whimpering boy so easily.

Boromir became more aroused than ever, now, and grasping Pippin once more around the waist, again rolled him onto his back. He began thrusting into Pippin with a will and a force he had not shown before. Now the shy boy was gone, and in his place was a masterful, demanding Man. Boromir reached underneath Pippin and cupped his small round rump in one hand, pulling him snugly against the body which pinned him down. Pippin couldn’t move at all now, and Boromir took complete control. He was demanding and dominant, and Pippin thrilled to the abrupt change. Oh, this was even better than before!

He had thought himself spent, but now it was as if Boromir had decided to show him just how far he could be taken, and taken Pippin was. Boromir gazed down at him, studying his face closely for every sign of passion, and it was as though he was deliberately mounting Pippin so as to make the halfling never able to forget him.

Pippin was mounted so thoroughly, in fact, that he suddenly realized that, though Boromir had never been in love, he certainly knew how to pleasure a partner. The thought occurred to Pippin that Boromir had been called “the best man in Gondor” for more than his battle-skills. Here, too, was a skill, and if Boromir was ever surpassed in it, Pippin did not want to know about it. Boromir must have been much sought-after by the women of Gondor. Well, they would have to look elsewhere, now. Pippin had no intentions of sharing him with anyone.

The big man over him was sweating, now, working hard to get what he wanted, and Pippin couldn’t help himself. His pleasure soared and soared, and still Boromir worked his body with a skill and a hunger that overtook the halfling. Pippin came close to climax, but Boromir would not allow it just yet. He pinned Pippin against him, not allowing him to budge until the moment passed. Only then would he again allow Pippin to move. This he did again and again, a sweet torment that had Pippin whimpering for release. Time and again, Boromir took him to the very edge of completion, only to pin him down, holding him immobile until he had cooled off enough to allow Boromir to once more push him to the brink. It was torture, it was agony, it was the most wonderful thing Pippin had ever felt. He wasn’t sure exactly why Boromir was doing this to him. He became so frustrated he was near tears.

Without quite realizing what he was doing, he spoke, or rather, he didn’t speak, he begged, “No, no, please don’t, please, please let me, please, I can’t bear it, please, I beg you, sweet boy, please, I’ll do anything, anything at all...”

“Please let you do what?” Boromir teased.

Pippin tried to squirm beneath him. Boromir tightened his hold. He grinned down at his Little One, enjoying his teasing.

“Don’t, please, Boromir, I can’t bear it! Please, please…”

“What’s wrong, my sweet? What is it you wish?”

“You know what I want, you know! Please, please?”

“How am I supposed to know what you want if you don’t tell me?”

“You’re awful, just awful!” Pippin tried to sound indignant, but upon hearing the need in his own voice and the amusement in Boromir’s, he began to giggle. “Alright, alright! What do you want me to say?”

“Oh, come now,” Boromir grinned. He had begun to thrust into Pippin again, tortuously, teasingly slow and easy. “You know what I want you to say.”

Pippin tied to pretend he wasn’t almost ready to start babbling with frustration. That didn’t last long, though. Boromir was far too good at what he was doing. Pippin saw he wasn’t going to get where he wanted to go unless he gave in. Boromir wanted him submissive this time, completely submissive, and wouldn’t settle for less. Finally he could bear it no more.

“Oh, please, Boromir, let me come, please, I’ll die if you don’t…” Pippin felt himself blush at his own words. This seemed to delight Boromir.

“Say it again, my sweet, I didn’t quite hear you.”

“Let me come, please…”

“Should I? I’m not sure.” Pippin watched Boromir’s face. He was smiling broadly with an arrogant look on his face that made Pippin want to slap him and kiss him all at once. Boromir knew the effect he was having on Pippin. He only smiled more and kissed Pippin thoroughly, then said “Oh, what a pretty blush. Let me see it again, my sweet.”

Pippin made up his mind to have what he wanted, and in a tone of voice calculated to melt Boromir’s heart, he said softly, “Please, my love, let me come for you? I know you want me to. Please, sweet boy, let me come for you…” Pippin again felt himself blush furiously. Instead of shame dulling his lust, his need increased; his body making demands on him he could not refuse in spite of himself.

“Yes, my sweet, I do want you to come for me. I want you to come when I tell you to.” Boromir began to thrust into him now deeply. He let go of Pippin’s bottom, finally allowing him to move. And move he did, meeting every thrust with one of his own. His need was now so great that he bucked underneath Boromir almost savagely. Now Pippin was certain of what Boromir wanted. This was new to him, this kind of dominance, but he had to admit to himself that it was thrilling.

“Yes, sweet boy, I do want to come for you, I want to come for you when you tell me to…”Pippin knew this was what Boromir wanted to hear, and sensed that it was now Boromir who was losing control. “Yes, my sweet boy, come in me, fill me up, I’m waiting for you.”

“Little halfling, do you know what you do to me? Do you?”

“Yes, love, I do. Come in me now, love, please, I want to wait for you…”

“Then I hope you’re ready, my sweet.”

Pippin answered not with words, but with even more passion, meeting Boromir’s every movement with one of his own, every bit as passionate and demanding as the ones given to him. He sensed that Boromir was about to lose all control now. He tightened his legs around Boromir’s waist.

“Now, love? Are you ready for me now?”

“Yes, yes, I am, my sweet, I am.” Boromir rasped, his voice like gravel on gravel. Sweat poured from his body and made their two bodies slippery.

“Come in me now, sweet boy, do it now, now!”

The big body stiffened over him. Boromir clenched his jaw, on the very verge of losing all control. He felt Pippin readying for the most powerful release yet. As he neared completion, he heard Boromir say in a commanding tone, “Give it to me, it is mine, give it to me…” As if Pippin had no say in the matter, which indeed he did not, he felt his body respond to the command willingly, independent of Pippin’s own will, as if the pleasure he felt belonged not to he himself, but to his lover. The command was firm, dominating, and merciless. Pippin suddenly felt as though he belonged to Boromir, body, heart and soul, now and forever. He had been claimed, at long last. It was a claim that could not and would not be refused.

How could he do that? How did Boromir manage to bring him to the greatest ecstasy he’d ever known, simply by telling him to? No, not telling him to, commanding him to…

Boromir tightened his hold on him, riding him hard, now, demanding Pippin give everything he had to him. He began to growl into Pippin’s ear, “Yes, my sweet, that’s it, that’s what I wanted, to see you like this. Sweet little halfling, my sweet little catamite, so passionate, come for me, my sweet, give me your pleasure, give it to me, all of it! It’s mine, mine, give it to me now! Now! Now!”

Pippin let loose a string of obscenities he wasn’t even aware he knew. He clawed at Boromir’s back and felt his body arch like a bow with unbridled heat as its arrow. He heard himself whimpering helplessly, and try as he might, he couldn’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth, straight from his heart, “My Boromir, my Boromir, my love, my only love, oh yes, yes, oh I love you, love you, love you…Oh! Ooohuuuummmm!”

Boromir captured his cries with a kiss so hungry and demanding Pippin felt he might be swallowed whole, and as the kiss became the deepest, most passionate yet, he felt Boromir growling into his mouth as he yet again filled Pippin with liquid fire. Boromir, too, was awash with the greatest pleasure yet, more, the greatest pleasure he had ever known. He felt as though his very soul was wrenched from his body to find its way into the body and heart of his beloved. Nothing could surpass this, nothing. He lost his ability to see and hear. There was nothing left but what he felt, and what he felt was perfect, untouchable bliss. Wave after wave washed through him, seeming to take everything from him, even his name. When it was finished, he felt as if he were nothing but what this love made of him.

Once more, Boromir rolled them over so that Pippin lay atop him. Pippin was like a rag-doll, he was so weak. Both gasped for breath. He could feel his own heart as well as Pippin’s heart pounding with exhaustion. For long minutes, the two were unable to do anything but lay limply together and gasp. Boromir pulled the blanket over the both of them and stroked his halfling’s back tenderly. Finally, Boromir was able to speak. “Did you mean it?” Boromir said softly, taking Pippin’s chin in his palm and making Pippin look him in the eye.

“Shall I say it again, then? Yes, Boromir, I said it. I said I love you.”

“I must say to you what you said to me. Do not say it if you don’t mean it.”

“Shall I swear, then?”

“Ah, little Pippin! Only if you wish it. I would not have what you will not willingly give.”

“Oh, my dear, sweet boy! But you have taken it! You have claimed my heart, and I wish for nothing more than for you to have it. It is yours now; I swear it. I love you, Boromir, you and only you.”

Pippin was pulled towards Boromir’s face, and found himself in a kiss so tender, so grateful, that it broke his heart. It was true! It was at last true. He was loved, and loved as he had only dreamed before. Pippin decided he quite liked being Boromir’s Little Teacher.

He laid his head on Boromir’s shoulder, trying to catch his breath.

“Mmm.Boromir?”

“Yes, my sweet?”

“How did you do that?”

“What, my sweet?”

“Make me…” Pippin grinned and blushed. “Make me come, just by telling me to?”

“Well, you aren’t the only teacher I’ve ever had. I knew a woman in Rohan who liked me to do that. She taught me. It takes timing and will-power. A lot of will-power. The hardest part is not losing control until you get your partner where you want them.”

“Did I teach you well?”

Boromir trailed his fingertips up and down Pippin’s little back, making him arch his body like a kitten being stroked. “Better than you know. You’re a very good teacher.”

“I want you to teach me to do that to you.”

“You want to do that to me?” Boromir looked both surprised and amused.

“Well, not exactly that way.” Pippin grinned. “I want to do that with you inside me.”

Boromir looked relieved. “Is it as good as it seems?”

“Oh, Boromir, I’ve never…that is, nothing has ever…”

“Made you come so hard?” Seeing Pippin blush prettily, Boromir grinned. “You aren’t used to talking dirty, are you?”

“Well, no, I’m not. Just used to being talked to dirty is all.”

“And you liked it when I made you talk dirty?”

Pippin looked into Boromir’s eyes. “Oh, yes, very much! I liked it when you were shy and scared, too, though. But then, you weren’t anymore, and it was like I felt everything you wanted me to feel, because you wanted me to. It was splendid. I did not know that was possible.”

“We have much to learn from each other.”

“Yes, we do.”

“Pippin?”

“Yes, sweet boy?”

“I really do love you. I loved you before we ever kissed. I love you more than words can say.”

“I was afraid. I was so afraid to love you. I thought no one would ever really, truly love me, but you did. I’m not afraid anymore.”

“Pippin?”

“Yes, my love?”

“I’m glad you were afraid. Is that so awful? I’m glad no one loved you, as you wanted. If they had, we might not have found each other. Is that wrong of me?”

“I think not. I don’t think anyone else could love me the way I wanted but you.”

“And I think no one could make me love them as much as I love you. That’s why I never found anyone who could make me love them the way I love you. I could resist anyone, until I met you.”

Pippin squirmed up Boromir’s body and, lying on Boromir’s chest, he put his little arms around Boromir’s neck and kissed his lips tenderly. “And what was the best thing I taught you?” he asked, smiling softly.

“The best thing? That’s easy.”

“Tell me, then, love.”

“That I could never have anyone’s heart until I gave mine away.”

“Oh, Boromir…my sweet boy! How sweet you are!” Pippin blinked back tears of joy. Boromir kissed his cheeks and his eyes until Pippin was once more calm.

“Only because of you, Little Teacher.” he said, then tenderly kissed Pippin’s mouth. Pippin returned his kiss with equal tenderness, then looked long into Boromir’s eyes. Boromir seemed lost in the bright green gaze, and if Pippin hadn’t been sure before, he was now. There was no way anyone could look like that and not be truly and deeply in love. It was the one thing Pippin had looked for all his life, and now he need look no further.

They rolled onto their sides. Pippin lay with his back to Boromir’s belly. With Boromir’s strong arms around him, they lay like spoons in a drawer. Boromir kissed Pippin’s ear. “I love you, little Pippin, my sweet.” he whispered.

“I love you, my Boromir, my sweet boy. Sleep well.”

“Rest well, Little Teacher.”

Pippin lay in his lover’s arms, and as he drifted off to sleep, he felt Boromir’s heart beating steadily against his back. He smiled as he slipped into sleep, knowing that heart belonged only to him. He had not intended to capture the heart of a warrior, but now that he had, nothing would take it from him.

To Be Continued