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By: Dana
Frodo groaned in quiet frustration, leaning back against Sam's bare chest. Pippin had only just come back into the parlor, wearing naught but a grin and a long shirt. With a show of grace, or maybe just because there were those times where Pippin was nothing but a showoff, Pippin was managing to balance three empty tea cups in one hand, a long tea towel draped over that same arm, and a small pot of tea and one more empty cup in the other. Merry, from where his head was pillowed against one of the thick cushions that had been taken from the sofa, now pillowed against Frodo's lap, said in a voice that drifted up from the parlor floor: "Be careful with that, Pip; you know Frodo will have a proper fit if Bilbo's finest tea set ends up in pieces all over the parlor floor." Pippin grumbled something in reply, smiling as he sauntered downwards, sitting in the empty spot of the plush quilt that connected Sam and Merry's bodies, with Frodo lying in between. "Whoever did decide that Pippin would bring in the tea?" Frodo asked, watching as Pippin set down the fine cups, draping the tea towel over the carpeting beside, moving the cups over as he set down the final, joining with the pot of hot tea. "I do believe," Merry's voice drifted up, and Merry turned over onto his side for a brief moment, kissing Frodo's hip, "that you had been the one who asked him to run off and get the tea, Frodo." Frodo grumbled something back, "you must be mistaken, Merry", and Sam began stroking his fingers carefully through Frodo's hair. Pippin looked sideways, his smile catching in the middle, stretching out thin and wide. "You really should look in to having a bit more faith in me, dear cousin," he said, dropping his gaze back to the task at hand, and Frodo watched as steam curled off the tea as Pippin poured it out, cup by cup. Frodo almost grumbled something back, but he sighed, instead, perfectly complacent and happy where he was pressed back against Sam's chest. "Sam," he said, closing his eyes, "won't you please tell that cousin of mine that I won't be gracing that outrageous comment of his with a proper reply as if he thinks I haven't any faith in him, the brat." Sam chuckled, his fingers pausing only as he set a kiss upon Frodo's temple, and Frodo sighed, again, at the warm prickles that Sam's mouth left against his skin. Then, speaking up, Sam said: "Mister Frodo won't be having none of that, Master Pippin, he wants you to know." Pippin, lightly, lifted up one of the tea cups and smiled at the both of them through the steam of sweet, hot tea. "Well then, Sam, if you'll be so good, could you tell that cousin of mine that he can get his head out of his arse and enjoy his tea, or else I'll take my Merry and even you, Sam, and go elsewhere to play." "Your Merry?" Merry's voice drifted back upwards, amused. "Yes, mine," Pippin quite matter-of-factly replied, and Frodo felt the warmth of Sam's blush against his back, and Frodo thought it proper to reply. "If we're playing games of who is whose, Pippin, then Sam gets to be mine." Pippin rolled his eyes, and even that small gesture was bursting with energy, where Frodo felt heavy, but not uncomfortably so, like all his limbs were melted on the floor. Then Pippin was smirking, his eyes sparking, and he scooted closer to Frodo, and Frodo was left feeling the pressure of Pippin's toes pressed against his side. "I never thought it would be so simple for me to wear you all out." "Was it really truly my idea?" Frodo wondered, and Sam nudged him into a proper sitting position. Pippin's grin touched Frodo's mouth, despite any imagined irritations, and Frodo murmured his thanks into that kiss, taking the cup from known, clever hands. When Pippin drew back, setting a cup in Sam's hands, too, Merry was nodding as he pulled himself half-ways back into sitting, flinging the stray cushion back onto the sofa. "It was, Frodo, and you've hardly worn us out, Pippin," Merry said, taking his own cup of tea, and sipping at it. "I'll show you, just let me catch my breath." Pippin chuckled, drinking from his cup, and Frodo groaned, then waved his hand at Pippin, frowning at his cousin's boundless energy, taunting him. "I'll show you too. Just give me a moment, if you will." "Just a moment," Pippin said, and Frodo felt a little life returning to his veins, hot liquid down his throat and in his belly. He watched Pippin as Pippin sipped at his cup, felt the warmth of more than just hearth fire and body heat on his skin, when Merry pulled Pippin back against him, toying with the bottom buttons of his long shirt, still fastened. The warmth felt comfortable, sated, and Frodo felt the same. Still, there it was, that familiar itching, and Frodo leaned back full against Sam, felt Sam's breath on his cheek and Sam's arm, fastening about his waist. "I do believe I've decided I'll take my cousin up on his dare," he said, and Sam chuckled. "I hadn't thought you'd think to resist." "Well," Frodo replied. "I did think, but I decided that I thought I liked it better this way around." "Good for you, then, sir. Might I join you, if you please?" Frodo chuckled, turning and kissing the heat of Sam's jaw. "The more the merrier, or so they like to say." "Good for us all then, sir," Sam replied, grinning. "Let me just pick up the pieces of the tea set, now, before we end up with a mess underneath our hands and more." Frodo chuckled once again, "You are such a dear, Sam", and Sam drew away, and Frodo's gaze turned sideways - watching Pippin, and Merry, and Merry's hand was now lightly resting at Pippin's bare thigh, fingers curving carelessly and fingertips casually drawing small circles on exposed skin. Pippin wasn't the only one who was still half-dressed - Frodo, himself, still had on his own shirt, and Sam was in his long trousers - Merry was, of the four, the only one who had lost all of his clothing in the first rush, and he now seemed more than fully occupied with Pippin, who was sitting snug against him in the hollow of his spread legs. And Pippin, it seemed, felt fully comfortable, just sitting, feeling the hum of Merry's mouth against his neck and, when Merry pulled at the cloth, at his shoulder, too. Pippin opened his ?yes when Frodo was almost upon him, eyes sparking despite the comfort that seemed to now be melting him to the floor. "Hullo there, Frodo." Frodo's gaze dropped downwards, spotting Pippin's evident arousal behind a light cover of thin, white cloth, and then lifted his gaze back upwards, settling back on Pippin's face. "I think you made a bold statement, Pippin, and - " "Which one, Frodo?" Merry asked, pausing in his work, looking up from over Pippin's shoulders. "He's made a good number of them tonight, and I don't know which to choose." "Mister Merry is right about that," Sam chimed in, settling close by Frodo, and Pippin's gaze rolled sideways from Frodo, over Sam, and then again back. "I've lost count of all the bold statements that Master Pippin has made, and if an evening goes by where he doesn't say one, well, then something must be wrong." Pippin's smile curved into a full grin, and he chuckled, then squirmed, as Merry's hand slid down, ending up mostly hidden behind the long hem of his shirt, and Pippin jerked as Merry's hand closed around him, eyes now wide, as Merry's hand then paused in its work. "Oh," Pippin groaned. "I admit, though," and Frodo scooted closer, straddling one leg, letting his hand join Merry's, feeling the firm strength of Merry's fingers and Pippin's warmth pulsing beneath. Pippin groaned again, letting his head fall back, eyelids fluttering in an almost imperceptive way, as Frodo kissed his cheek. Frodo remember what he had saying, though, and continued to speak: "Yes, I admit, Pippin, that you might just have been right." Pippin moaned, closing his eyes. Frodo dropped his forehead against Pippin's shoulder, looking down, watching the faint shifting of Merry's hand as it moved his own. Pippin arched his back slowly, breath hitching. "And if you did wear us out," he said, setting his mouth against Pippin's collarbone, sucking on it and making Pippin squirm further, "then it is only right, and certainly proper, that we give you back the same." "Please," Pippin whispered, out of breath. Please, and that could mean so much. Frodo sat back, instead, pulling his hand away, listening to the sound of Pippin's whimper as he pushed his hips forward into the grip of Merry's hand. "I think we'll just take our time, if you don't mind it, Pip," he said, and smiled. "It wouldn't do us any good if we tired ourselves out when we are all so intent on tiring out you." "I suppose you do have a point there, cousin," Pippin said, squeezing his eyes shut, mouth falling open as he let his head loll to the side. Merry's mouth was on him, once again, and Frodo sat there, watching, and Sam stretched out beside Pippin, full against his legs. Pippin made an indescribable noise as Merry bit down, sucking harder beneath the seal of his mouth, then licking over that spot with the flat of his tongue. Merry had only teased with the buttons of Pippin's shirt, but Sam popped them efficiently, pushing the shirt open sideways, breathing against his stomach. Sam's hand curled over Merry's, and Merry relented, his fingers uncurling from around the hardness of Pippin's length. Pippin's breath came out in a rush, and Merry's hand pressed flat against his stomach. Frodo could only just watch, blood warming, fingers curling into loose fists, watching as Sam's thick fingers curled around Pippin, supporting him. Pippin whimpered, thrusting forwards, but Merry and Sam were both pressing down on Pippin's hip, and the movement was stilted, hampered. Sam's mouth was on Pippin, then, nothing but a breath upon his head. Pippin almost knocked his head back against Merry's, a whine caught in his throat that leaked out the tightness of his sealed lips. Merry's free hand pinched and teased one nipple, and Sam's mouth swallowed Pippin completely. Frodo felt all the air in his lungs give out, leaving him empty, burning, watching. Pippin clawed for some purchase, finding nothing for his hands to latch onto. His mouth trembled, and he trembled, too, Merry's name? then Sam's, and Frodo's, also, falling free, into the air around. He gave a great shudder, and Frodo watched as Sam swallowed Pippin, swallowed him whole, and Pippin twitched, a spasm down to his toes, which had him gasping, out of breath. No need for words, then. Sam drew himself up, wrapping one arm around Pippin, the other around both Pippin and Merry, his mouth on Pippin's as they kissed. Frodo drew closer, once again, as Sam turned his mouth to Merry, kissing over the shape of Pippin's shoulder. Pippin's mouth was open, and his eyes were glazed over. "They weren't playing fair," Pippin muttered, eyes closing and then opening once again. When they did, Frodo was closer still, and he let one hand curl at Pippin's neck, feeling cool sweat on his skin, the other coming to rest at Pippin's hip. He kissed first one corner and then the other of his mouth, and Pippin opened underneath him, his mouth smooth and warm and tasting of tea and Sam, too, and even Merry, and a softer saltiness that was his own taste. When Frodo drew back, mouth against Pippin's, he flicked Pippin's side with his thumb, and Pippin gave a great shudder. "You never do play fair, Pip," he said. Pippin grumbled against his mouth, but they kissed again, and Frodo drew Pippin close. "Tired out yet, love?" "Hardly," Pippin replied, though Frodo doubted him, and he grinned. Sam kissed Pippin's cheek and then, his curls brushing against Frodo's, Frodo turned and kissed him, too. Pippin squirmed just a bit more, searching for his voice, then finding it: "You'll have to oh try and bit harder than - stop that, Merry! - that." Frodo turned his gaze to Merry, and Merry was close, too, like they were all trying to fit into the space that should only hold one. Merry was grinning, his hand at Pippin's side, rubbing lightly. "T-tickling i-isn't allowed," Pippin gasped, squirming, but Merry looped an arm back around him, pulling him tight. Pippin groaned, bucking backwards, and Merry groaned, too. Pippin was able to slip free, he didn't manage to gain any proper ground before Merry pulled him back, one hand around his waist, the other pressing his arms down tight against his sides. "Frodo, if you would be so kind," Merry murmured, biting down on Pippin's neck and working his teeth, causing Pippin to mostly still, breathing out slowly, his eyes half-lidded. Frodo kissed the corner of Pippin's mouth, then turned to Sam. "Well, you wouldn't know what we did with the oil, would you?" Sam laughed, and Pippin groaned, and Frodo leaned close, kissing that laugh right off of Sam's mouth. The parlor certainly must have been a sight, Frodo found himself vaguely thinking, though it hardly seemed to matter, even if the quilt was spread out and rumpled, the tea set well out of harm's way, and the fire on the hearth now dying down to smaller, dancing flames. "Well, we had it here, somewhere," Sam stated patiently, and Pippin kicked one leg out as Merry pinched him, then, laughing against his skin. "Sorry, Pippin," Merry muttered against him, but it didn't seem that Pippin believed him. Frodo turned to look at them fully, remembering Pippin's earlier words, of who was whose and Frodo's own opinions on the matter, then this was fitting, Merry and Pippin, Frodo and Sam, and perfectly right. "Oh, here it is, sir," Sam said, and Frodo turned back to him, smiling at Sam and the sight of the small, hard-baked clay container, sitting in the palm of his hand. He handed it over, grinning. "I think Mister Merry's wanting you to do the honors, sir." Frodo took it from Sam, grinning back, turning in time to see Merry dumping Pippin forwards, and Pippin laughed and tried to pull himself free, but Merry grabbed him at the knees. Frodo snorted, shaking his head, and Merry smiled sweetly. "What, cousin? I couldn't let him get away." "This is not fair," Pippin's voice drifted upwards. "I can't even properly move." "Yes, well," Frodo said. "But I do think that's the point." Pippin grumbled, but then he gasped, when Merry pinched his bottom. "I am going to make you pay for that one, Merry," he gasped, again, twisting, but Frodo laughed, stretching one leg out over his shoulder blades, and keeping Pippin pinned. "This really, truly, completely and unbelievably is not at all fair," Pippin groaned. "I am going to make each and everyone of you pay for this, you know." "Even me, Master Pippin?" Sam asked. "You most of all, Sam," Pippin replied, and then he moaned, and Frodo watched as Pippin's eyes shut fully, his lashes dark on fairer skin. "Oh, I don't know why, Sam, but you most of all." Sam chuckled, and Frodo poured oil in the palm of his hand, then wrapped it around Merry's cock. Merry groaned, pushing forward, and Frodo exhaled, trailing slick fingers down the full length. Pippin wriggled, almost as if he was now impatient - which would be surprising, because it wasn't all that strange to think that this was all some part of his plan, despite his complaints. This was Pippin, after all, and Frodo rather liked how he almost always seemed to get his way. Frodo eased off with his leg, pulling back, bumping backwards against Sam. The oil almost fell from his hand, but Sam caught it, reaching backwards as he set it down, setting his mouth to Frodo's throat, and sucking on his pulse. Sam wrapped his fingers around Frodo as Frodo watched, now that Pippin had rearranged himself, hands planted forwards and his hips levered, as Merry gripped Pippin's hips, and Merry pushed in. Pippin made a sound that Frodo couldn't fully comprehend yet, at the same time, could completely understand. Pippin lowered his forehead to the rumpled quilt, seeming to sway backwards as Merry rocked against him, and Sam's hand worked on Frodo's hard cock, fingers moving slowly, then faster, rubbing and pulling on him, massaging soft skin and then hard flesh, making Frodo gasp and moan. Pippin whimpered, and Merry groaned, almost grunting, shuddering at the force of it as he came, collapsing forward, and he rolled onto his side, pulling Pippin with him. Pippin's cheeks were flushed, and he was breathing hard, exhaustion of the body in his eyes, and maybe it was that that pushed Frodo, making his blood burn as pleasure expelled itself from his body, and he collapsed backwards against Sam, the air echoing in his ears as he gasped for breath. Sam's hands were still on him, at rest, and Sam's breath was strangely cool against his cheek. He leaned into him, sighing, closing his eyes; when he looked again, Merry and Pippin were curled against each other, Merry's arm over Pippin's side, Merry's face halfway pressed into Pippin's damp curls. "I see you beat us all, Samwise, dear," Frodo said, laughing, kissing Sam's cheek, and then his mouth. "You must tell me what your secret is, one day." "Oh, I don't know, I rather like knowing I have something up on you, Mister Frodo," Sam said, grinning, against Frodo's mouth. Out before them, Pippin's voice drifted upwards, and caused them both to laugh: "Just give me a moment, and let me catch my breath, and I'll show Sam that he can't outlast me," before Merry's hand clamped over his mouth, and Merry said, instead: "You'd be surprised, Pippin, Frodo will end up doing a fine job of that, himself." Frodo found himself thinking that, if anything, he could hardly leave Sam unattended. He turned, feeling Sam's arms around him, and pressed his body full against Sam's. Sam sighed, eyes fluttering as they shut, bending his forehead against Frodo's cheek. Frodo touched Sam's side, sighing, letting his fingers trail as Sam's hip curved, resting at the edge of his trousers. "I think," Frodo said, and Sam let out a shuddering breath, "that it would be best if we were to get these off." "Yes," Sam replied, eyes dark, "I do think that would do us best." Frodo sat back, and Sam drew away, fumbling with the tie of his trousers. Frodo felt his fingers tingle, joined his hands with Sam's, though Sam's stilled, and Frodo tugged o?e last time on the tie, and it loosened fully and came undone. "There now," he said, pressing his thumb under the edge, pulling it down. "Almost finished." "Almost," Sam husked, lying back on his side, leveling his hips and shucking his trousers off as he did. Frodo grinned, almost laughing, pulling on the cloth, down Sam's legs, where it almost caught at his ankles, then throwing it backwards where it landed, Frodo presumed, on the sofa. "Much better, wouldn't you say?" "Oh, aye," Sam replied, gaze not meeting Frodo's right away; not when Frodo let his eyes roam up the length of Sam's body, until he settled his sight back on Sam's face, warmed by low, smoky light. Touch really was such a simple thing, Frodo rather absently thought, stretching out along Sam's body. He let his fingers brushed over the width of Sam's leg, a lighter touch where he could press his forefinger to Sam's thigh. Sam took a deeper breath, then, drawing back. Frodo looked to Sam, and Sam's eyes reflected back his own. "Dear Sam," he said. "I have my own secrets, you know." Then, mouth quirking in a smile, Frodo pressed that smile to Sam's mouth, felt Sam's lips part beneath his own. Sam grumbled, groaning, as fingers pressed lower, slower, and his legs parted. Frodo let his thumb run the full length of Sam's hardness, coming to rest against the moisture at the tip. Sam shuddered along the full length of his body, groaning into Frodo's mouth. Frodo shifted back, reluctant to break that kiss, to end that touch. Frodo pressed himself closer against Sam, and Sam's cock pressed his thigh. He sucked on Sam's mouth, wrapped his hand around him, gave a slow tug. Sam moaned, eyes closing, and Frodo pressed his mouth to Sam's shoulder, letting his hand work upon him, slow, still, but increasing with speed. He was not alone; they were not alone. Frodo almost thought a hand had joined his, and he opened eyes that he had not been aware of closing. There was Pippin, settled behind Sam's back, kissing the slope of his shoulder; and Merry at Frodo's own back, warmth along the full of his body. Yes, there was a hand, and it was Pippin's, long fingers that he knew almost better than his own; and Merry, his leg hitched up over Frodo's, grounding them all in the moment. Pippin very gently kissed Sam's shoulder, once again, and then his neck. Sam's eyes were wide, glazed over with wanting; wanting Frodo knew well enough, the touch of multiple, familiar, giving hands. Pippin's fingers tightened over Frodo's, and Frodo groaned, kissing Sam again, falling into the well-known depth of Sam's mouth. Faster just a breath faster then slower, once again, and Frodo felt Sam tense, heard Sam's moan even as he tasted it, saw Pippin's mouth descend against Sam's neck, felt Merry's breath and then his mouth against his ear. Sam spilled hot against him, breathing as though he feared he would never again. The world slowed and then it stilled, and Frodo felt sweat cooling on his body, felt Sam against him, Merry, too. Pippin's arm now curved over Sam's body, and his head was bent against Sam's shoulder. He did not speak, not Merry, not Sam, and Frodo thought that there were hardly fitting words. Right. Oh, but it simply felt right. They laid in a tangle on the rumpled quilt, before a dying fire, breathing low. When Pippin did speak, when Frodo was half-way asleep, his voice drifted languidly into the air: "A cup of tea would do us all good, I think." Sam's laugh rumbled along Frodo's body, and he laughed softly, too, pressing against Sam's warmth, drawing Merry with him, putting his arm over Sam's side, letting it rest at Pippin's hip. "Just go to sleep, Pippin. I do think we have all worn each other out." Pippin did not seem to disagree, remaining quiet, and Frodo, warm, sated, and safe in a tangle of loving arms, drifted off to sleep.
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