Title: Quis Custodiet Ipsos Custodes?
Author: soleta
Pairing: Merry/Pippin, Merry/Pippin/Boromir
Rating: a soft R
Summary: Someone is watching them, and Merry decides to teach him a lesson.
AN: For shirasade's SeSa challenge; my prompts were merry/pippin/boromir and for it to be fun, lighthearted, and fluffy; unfortunately, I didn't manage all of that. Also, I'm late. Dammit. On the other hand, I like the way this turned out, so...</span>

"Merry?"

Exasperation clouded Merry's voice, touched with sleep and resignation. "What is it, Pippin?"

"Merry, he's watching us again," Pippin hissed.

Merry sat up and twisted around to look at the other group of beds. Unfortunately, he wasn't balanced nearly as well as he thought he was, and he tumbled off the mallon root and landed flat on his face. The moist dirt clung to his nose and cheeks as he lifted his head to glare at Pippin, who was laughing helplessly. Around his laughter Pippin gasped, "I'm sorry, Merry, truly - only you look so funny! Are you all right?" He moved closer to help brush Merry off, sitting carelessly in the cold damp earth, and when Merry dove at him and pushed him back into the ground he made no protest. Pippin did start to squirm when Merry's fingers brushed along his ribs, and dug at the spots that Merry had found long ago, the ones that made Pippin squeal; they made him do other things, too, when they were alone and when there was time to be patient, but this wasn't an appropriate time - at least, not for those sorts of noises.

Merry grinned wickedly and redoubled his attentions, making Pippin squeal with laughter and pant pleas of apology, threats, and many repetitions of Merry's name. He could have continued with that, right there, for a long time; Pippin, flushed and laughing and defiant and beautiful, underneath him in the grassy cradle of Lorien; his family and new-found friends, who were with them; even the lingering sadness of Gandalf's defiance, which lent a spice to living, a reminder that life with all its joys was no more certain than his father's temper and no more stable than the height of the river that ran through the fields of his home, which had to be measured every year for the ferry to run properly.

Slowly, he stopped and propped himself up on his elbows, waiting for Pippin to get his breath back.

Eventually, he did. "I am going to get you for that, Merry!" A small frown and Pippin poked him in the ribs. "I will. Wait and see."

"Have you got your breath back, then?" Merry inquired innocently.

Pippin narrowed his eyes and stared at Merry. "That would depend upon the reason you're asking. What are you planning, Merry-mine?"

Merry dropped quick, feather-light kisses around Pippin's mouth, blew into his ear, and did everything he could think of to avoid Pippin's mouth, and just before Pippin's control snapped and he lunged for Merry's mouth, Merry grinned. "To steal it away again, of course."

Their mouths met hungrily, a cure for the building tension of close quarters and lack of privacy that had characterized their life on the trail to Mordor. Hidden spots and rushed, quick encounters had satisfied them well enough up 'till now, but Merry was tired of it - he had every intention of loving Pippin long and well this night, and anyone who didn't like it could go chase themselves.

Pippin surfaced just once from the haze of sensuality Merry built around him. "But - Merry, he's still watching -"

"Let him watch." And with that, Merry bent his head...

-

He watched them in fascination, the childish bodies and the extremely non-childish actions engrossing him. He watched the pair during his turn at the night watches just as he watched the other during the day; he knew he shouldn't, he knew it was something to be resisted, but he couldn't help himself. Resistance did nothing to help against the desires of his loins.

And his heart.

He hadn't been home long enough between campaigns to find a proper wife, someone - his mind continued sarcastically, borrowing his father's voice for emphasis - someone who suited his rank and his bloodlines, someone who would give him children.

He took his relief on the road, with the camp followers who dogged any army hoping to earn a fee, or with one of his own men when the urge struck him, or, rarely, by himself; the thing he saw when his mind wandered to pleasure, the tall, androgynous figure of light, and the pure valor he could almost hear, disturbed him to the point of madness.

Never, however, had he taken himself in hand while watching other people.

He was supposed to be on watch for creatures of the night, for this part of the world was as of yet untamed; instead, he watched the little hobbits, watched Merry's mouth and Pippin's hands, let the tangle of limbs and feet and curly hair and soft, whispered words speed his own hands until -

He just managed to stifle his own cry of fulfillment, by biting his palm (and, strangely enough, that caused another wave of pleasure to roll through him) and when he opened his eyes, he felt right, at home, and as he wiped himself off and rearranged his clothing he let himself look at the hobbits again.

Merry met his gaze head on, and when he didn't turn away, Merry grinned, very slowly, and ducked his head to whisper in Pippin's ear. They both stared at him, expressions challenging and inviting and just a little wicked, and Boromir flushed and turned away when he hardened again, impossibly for a man of his age, yet unmistakeable all the same. Their invitation would linger in his mind, he knew it, and somehow -

Somehow he didn't mind, after all.