Exploring
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,187
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,187
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Exploring
~Exploring
By: Natashya
LotR, Merry/Pippin - Merry's POV
His eyes are so green, so deep. They are fixed on me, and give me shivers. He licks his lips slowly, expressingly; word-lessly inviting me.
I find myself beside him on the bed before I even have time to realise that I'm walking over.
He is still now, completely still. His gaze is still holding mine, but now his eyes seem expressionless, yet still deep. Everything around me, around us, slowly fall into nothingness. I can only see him now, he is the only thing, the only one, that exists besides me. And all I am is feelings, incredible feelings, those feelings he awaken within me, subtle like the first sunlight of the morning, powerful like a great thunderstorm, creeping up like an early morning mist.
I have to touch him now. My hand finds his hair; the curls are soft, and still damp from his bath. I move a little bit closer. He smells like lavender soap, like a warm summer’s day, like a cold winter’s night, like, like, like... Pippin. His hair is so soft.
My hand falls to his cheek. He doesn't stir as I caress the velvety flesh, his eyes don’t shift a bit, no expression or emotion is visible on his face. His breathing is soft and regular; it falls warm on my hand as I move it to trace his soft lips. His lips part a bit, and his tongue makes soft contact with my fingers, he sighs as I shiver.
"Merry." It is a whisper, a statement, a question, a command. His eyes are suddenly full of emotions, so many it makes me dizzy - he makes me dizzy - and I comply without thinking.
My lips meet his in a practised, familiar movement, and everything about that kiss is familiar, the way he feels, the way he tastes, the little moan that escapes him, muffled by me. And yet, this is a new kiss, and no previous kiss has been quite like this one, just like two mornings that seem the same rarely go on to make identical days.
His face is flushed when we part, his breathing deeper than it was before. His hands are shaking slightly, and he puts them in his lap, clasping them together. I reach my hands for his, gently prise them apart, take them in mine and hold them, and the shivers go into my hands, travel up my arms, take over my body too.
“Pip?” Does he know what I want? I don’t know what I want. He is here, now, right in front of me, and his cheeks are the colour of soft pink roses, his eyes are glossy like water reflecting the summer sun and his lips are swollen from my kiss. And I want him, I want all of him, I want everything, and yet I am scared, and I don’t need anything else, because as long as he is here beside me I have everything.
He nods, wordlessly, and takes my hand, and moves it to rest beside the top button of his shirt. His breathing catches slightly as I carefully, slowly undo the button, revealing a bit more of his smooth chest. “Yes.” He whispers, to himself, to the shadows around us. “Yes…”
I undo another button. My fingers touch the warm, velvety skin and he shudders. Another button undone, and I am able to make out some of his beautiful features now, a dark nipple, the tiny birth-mark just below it, and, touch wood, a single dark hair that has sprung out of nothingness and made his chest its home. I momentarily wish was a hair, that hair, and then I remember that he is my home, that I live with him, for him, by him, in him. And that he lives in me, in my heart, in my soul, in my very being. And I think about how he will find something to get rid of that hair – or someone, Sam has burnt a few from my own – and how it will not be as easy to get rid of me, should he even wish to do that, and I am glad that I am me, that I am Merry, and that I’m not a mere hair on his chest.
My fingers fumble with another button, then another, and another, and then there are none left. Carefully, hesitantly, expectantly I slid the shirt over his shoulders, and he shrugs it off. I take it and throw it onto the chair by the bed, before I turn my full attention back to him and behold him, and I let my hands explore and he is trembling beneath my touch, and his nipples harden as I caress them.
“Merry…” The word is but a soft sigh, and it could mean anything, a plea for me to continue, or to stop, or to never stop. I don’t want to stop. His skin is so warm, so soft, so, so, so… there is no word to describe it. Or, if there is, I don’t know it.
He gasps softly, and I look down to realise that my hands are on his breeches, just above the first of three buttons, and I stop and wonder and I don’t know what to do. I look at him, and his gaze tells me to do something, to do anything, he trust me and knows me and loves me, and I can do whatever I want to him. Whatever I need. What do I need?
His hand find mine and he moves it down and presses it against himself, and I can feel it, I can feel him, and he looks at me expectantly, pleadingly, and I know what he wants and therefore I want it too.
I slowly move my other hand to those buttons, and undo one of them, still looking at him and his gaze is steady, and it shows nothing but love and trust. I thought he would be nervous, maybe even scared, but he is relaxed and sure and… he trusts me. And just then I realise how much I love him, how much he loves me, and tears prickle in my eyes and I have to look away, so I look down and concentrate and undo the other two buttons with ease.
He falls back on the bed now, succumbing to me, as I surrendered to him long ago, and he lifts his hips as I tug at his breeches – they come off easily.
And now he is fully revealed to me, and it seems that I have never seen anything more beautiful, even though he is that beautiful at all times, has always been that beautiful. And may he always be that beautiful, and be mine to treasure.
I feel strange as I reach out to touch him, I am happy, and, and, and… overwhelmed by all kinds of indescribable emotions, they are all a big blur and I can’t separate them, can’t make out what it is I am really feeling. He whimpers and bucks and he is begging, silently, I can see it in his eyes as he sits up again and capture my lips with his.
It is a short kiss, and yet when it ends my shirt is half undone, his small hands working steadily downwards. I shrug it off and throw it on the floor, and his hands are already on the fastenings of my trousers, driven by some need that is becoming stronger and stronger, I can feel it in the electrified air of the room, I can feel it burning within me, in my body, and I know he can feel it too.
He is done now, and holds me tight, falling back and pulling me with him. We struggle momentarily with my trousers, but get them off and I can hear the thud as they fall to the floor over our gasping breaths.
I rub myself against him, needing to feel him closer, and he repeats my movements, and we are driven by the same want, the same need, the same emotions, and we tangle together and soon I don’t know what belongs to him or what belongs to me – we are but one being.
“Merry!” The cry is urgent, and his hands grasp my shoulders, his fingers dig into me, and I can feel the hot stickiness against me. I open my eyes – I never realised I closed them – and I look into his, drown in his eyes, and I fall over the edge in an instant. I fall, and fall, but he is there, holding me, clinging to me, and my head goes dizzy with the force of that fall, and all I can see are his eyes, so green and so deep, like great big pools, but then it all stops, and I can’t feel my body anymore, can’t feel anything, I just know he is there and I bury my face in his soft skin, his tantalizing scent filling my senses.
When I became aware of myself again I look up at him, and he is looking at me, and the expression on his face is unreadable. Amused, loving, satisfied… the options are endless.
“You liked that.” It is not a question; it is a statement, so I don’t reply. And I need not ask him if he liked it, because I know he did, I could feel it, can still feel it.
I turn over and pull him to me, finding the blanket to pull it over us. And he snuggles up to me, and he is so close, and my face seems full of his curls, and I can feel his heart beating against mine as his soft breath falls on my neck. And he falls asleep, and I drift off, and I dream of him as I know he dreams off me and in the morning we will awake to a new day where nothing is certain apart from our love...
THE END
By: Natashya
LotR, Merry/Pippin - Merry's POV
His eyes are so green, so deep. They are fixed on me, and give me shivers. He licks his lips slowly, expressingly; word-lessly inviting me.
I find myself beside him on the bed before I even have time to realise that I'm walking over.
He is still now, completely still. His gaze is still holding mine, but now his eyes seem expressionless, yet still deep. Everything around me, around us, slowly fall into nothingness. I can only see him now, he is the only thing, the only one, that exists besides me. And all I am is feelings, incredible feelings, those feelings he awaken within me, subtle like the first sunlight of the morning, powerful like a great thunderstorm, creeping up like an early morning mist.
I have to touch him now. My hand finds his hair; the curls are soft, and still damp from his bath. I move a little bit closer. He smells like lavender soap, like a warm summer’s day, like a cold winter’s night, like, like, like... Pippin. His hair is so soft.
My hand falls to his cheek. He doesn't stir as I caress the velvety flesh, his eyes don’t shift a bit, no expression or emotion is visible on his face. His breathing is soft and regular; it falls warm on my hand as I move it to trace his soft lips. His lips part a bit, and his tongue makes soft contact with my fingers, he sighs as I shiver.
"Merry." It is a whisper, a statement, a question, a command. His eyes are suddenly full of emotions, so many it makes me dizzy - he makes me dizzy - and I comply without thinking.
My lips meet his in a practised, familiar movement, and everything about that kiss is familiar, the way he feels, the way he tastes, the little moan that escapes him, muffled by me. And yet, this is a new kiss, and no previous kiss has been quite like this one, just like two mornings that seem the same rarely go on to make identical days.
His face is flushed when we part, his breathing deeper than it was before. His hands are shaking slightly, and he puts them in his lap, clasping them together. I reach my hands for his, gently prise them apart, take them in mine and hold them, and the shivers go into my hands, travel up my arms, take over my body too.
“Pip?” Does he know what I want? I don’t know what I want. He is here, now, right in front of me, and his cheeks are the colour of soft pink roses, his eyes are glossy like water reflecting the summer sun and his lips are swollen from my kiss. And I want him, I want all of him, I want everything, and yet I am scared, and I don’t need anything else, because as long as he is here beside me I have everything.
He nods, wordlessly, and takes my hand, and moves it to rest beside the top button of his shirt. His breathing catches slightly as I carefully, slowly undo the button, revealing a bit more of his smooth chest. “Yes.” He whispers, to himself, to the shadows around us. “Yes…”
I undo another button. My fingers touch the warm, velvety skin and he shudders. Another button undone, and I am able to make out some of his beautiful features now, a dark nipple, the tiny birth-mark just below it, and, touch wood, a single dark hair that has sprung out of nothingness and made his chest its home. I momentarily wish was a hair, that hair, and then I remember that he is my home, that I live with him, for him, by him, in him. And that he lives in me, in my heart, in my soul, in my very being. And I think about how he will find something to get rid of that hair – or someone, Sam has burnt a few from my own – and how it will not be as easy to get rid of me, should he even wish to do that, and I am glad that I am me, that I am Merry, and that I’m not a mere hair on his chest.
My fingers fumble with another button, then another, and another, and then there are none left. Carefully, hesitantly, expectantly I slid the shirt over his shoulders, and he shrugs it off. I take it and throw it onto the chair by the bed, before I turn my full attention back to him and behold him, and I let my hands explore and he is trembling beneath my touch, and his nipples harden as I caress them.
“Merry…” The word is but a soft sigh, and it could mean anything, a plea for me to continue, or to stop, or to never stop. I don’t want to stop. His skin is so warm, so soft, so, so, so… there is no word to describe it. Or, if there is, I don’t know it.
He gasps softly, and I look down to realise that my hands are on his breeches, just above the first of three buttons, and I stop and wonder and I don’t know what to do. I look at him, and his gaze tells me to do something, to do anything, he trust me and knows me and loves me, and I can do whatever I want to him. Whatever I need. What do I need?
His hand find mine and he moves it down and presses it against himself, and I can feel it, I can feel him, and he looks at me expectantly, pleadingly, and I know what he wants and therefore I want it too.
I slowly move my other hand to those buttons, and undo one of them, still looking at him and his gaze is steady, and it shows nothing but love and trust. I thought he would be nervous, maybe even scared, but he is relaxed and sure and… he trusts me. And just then I realise how much I love him, how much he loves me, and tears prickle in my eyes and I have to look away, so I look down and concentrate and undo the other two buttons with ease.
He falls back on the bed now, succumbing to me, as I surrendered to him long ago, and he lifts his hips as I tug at his breeches – they come off easily.
And now he is fully revealed to me, and it seems that I have never seen anything more beautiful, even though he is that beautiful at all times, has always been that beautiful. And may he always be that beautiful, and be mine to treasure.
I feel strange as I reach out to touch him, I am happy, and, and, and… overwhelmed by all kinds of indescribable emotions, they are all a big blur and I can’t separate them, can’t make out what it is I am really feeling. He whimpers and bucks and he is begging, silently, I can see it in his eyes as he sits up again and capture my lips with his.
It is a short kiss, and yet when it ends my shirt is half undone, his small hands working steadily downwards. I shrug it off and throw it on the floor, and his hands are already on the fastenings of my trousers, driven by some need that is becoming stronger and stronger, I can feel it in the electrified air of the room, I can feel it burning within me, in my body, and I know he can feel it too.
He is done now, and holds me tight, falling back and pulling me with him. We struggle momentarily with my trousers, but get them off and I can hear the thud as they fall to the floor over our gasping breaths.
I rub myself against him, needing to feel him closer, and he repeats my movements, and we are driven by the same want, the same need, the same emotions, and we tangle together and soon I don’t know what belongs to him or what belongs to me – we are but one being.
“Merry!” The cry is urgent, and his hands grasp my shoulders, his fingers dig into me, and I can feel the hot stickiness against me. I open my eyes – I never realised I closed them – and I look into his, drown in his eyes, and I fall over the edge in an instant. I fall, and fall, but he is there, holding me, clinging to me, and my head goes dizzy with the force of that fall, and all I can see are his eyes, so green and so deep, like great big pools, but then it all stops, and I can’t feel my body anymore, can’t feel anything, I just know he is there and I bury my face in his soft skin, his tantalizing scent filling my senses.
When I became aware of myself again I look up at him, and he is looking at me, and the expression on his face is unreadable. Amused, loving, satisfied… the options are endless.
“You liked that.” It is not a question; it is a statement, so I don’t reply. And I need not ask him if he liked it, because I know he did, I could feel it, can still feel it.
I turn over and pull him to me, finding the blanket to pull it over us. And he snuggles up to me, and he is so close, and my face seems full of his curls, and I can feel his heart beating against mine as his soft breath falls on my neck. And he falls asleep, and I drift off, and I dream of him as I know he dreams off me and in the morning we will awake to a new day where nothing is certain apart from our love...
THE END