The Roots of the Ivy and Other Stories of Middle-Earth

Aranel Took's LOTR Fanfiction

The Roots of the Ivy and Other Stories of Middle-Earth: Aranel Took's LOTR Fanfiction
Aranel Took's LOTR Fanfiction
Chapters: 1  •  Words: 1,979  •  Rating: Teen (sexually suggestive)
Group: Ivyverse
Revenge is a .... Sausage? ... Best Served Cold

Ivy felt a warmth on her cheeks as they walked into the Brandy Hall dining room. It was their first morning back after their honeymoon and she was just a bit self-conscious about it. Because everyone had a pretty good idea of what she and Pippin had been up to that week. They walked to the end of the table where her parents--all four of them--sat. Pippin took the spot on the end, next to her father, and Ivy sat across from him, next to her mother.

As much as she had enjoyed cooking for Pippin during their week away, Ivy was glad to get back to someone else taking care of the cooking and washing up. She piled her plate with eggs and sausage and settled in to enjoy food that she hadn’t had to make herself.

She hadn’t gotten far into her eggs when she felt something brush against her leg, lifting her skirt a bit. Before she could figure out what it was, it had disappeared. She looked around. Pippin was engrossed in a conversation with her father. It didn’t seem to have been him.

She turned back to her breakfast, but it wasn’t long before she felt it again. This time, she could definitely tell it was a foot. She looked up and just caught Pippin’s glance. He gave her a quick wink, never breaking his conversation with her dad.

Ivy reached under the table, trying to keep her movement subtle, and tried to push his foot away. But her efforts only seemed to make him try harder, and soon his toes were working their way up her thigh.

She looked up at him, glaring. He still hadn’t moved. There was no indication he was doing anything, except for that little wink he’d given her. She jumped when his toes pushed forward andtouched her between her legs. The he started to move his big toe, slowly in a circle. She got that familiar rush of warmth low in her belly and squirmed, scowling. She was going to kill him for doing this in the crowded dining room. But if she said or did anything about it now, someone would surely notice. And she didn't want that.

She tried shoving at his foot again, but he kept it firmly planted between her thighs. She stabbed at a sausage, continuing to glare at him, but as she lifted the sausage, she was suddenly struck by a funny thought. ‘Sausage’ was one of the names hobbit lads used for their bits. She and Pippin had even joked about it on the honeymoon.

She smirked, wicked thoughts swirling in her head. She knew how to get him back. She looked up at her husband, watching and waiting for her father to get distracted. Because if her dad saw what she was going to do, she was pretty sure she’d curl up and die right there on the spot.

When her father turned away to say something to her Uncle Éomer, Ivy nudged Pippin’s leg with her knee to get his attention. When he looked up at her, grinning at her quite smugly, she brought the sausauge up in front of her mouth and stuck out the tip of her tongue to gently lick a circle around the end of it.

His eyebrows shot up and his mouth fell open, completely removing the smug look. She held his gaze and plucked the sausage from her fork. Then, giving him a wink, she put the end to her lips and slowly, ever so slowly, she pushed it into her mouth, just a bit past her teeth, then slowly pulled it back out, never once breaking their gaze.

Pippin took a deep breath, shuddering a little. Her father turned to him and Ivy busied herself with eating the sausage.

“You all right, Pip?” her father asked. 

Pippin gave a cough and nodded. “Just fine, Merry,” he said. He squirmed a little and started to pull his foot away from her, but she clamped her legs together, holding his leg between her knees. 

“Ivy!” Pippin gasped. 

She looked up at him, giving her best ‘innocent’ look. “Yes, Pippin?” she asked sweetly.

“Um...could the salt?”

She smiled at Pippin, in a way that she thought looked appropriately shy and maidenly for her dad’s benefit, and passed the jar of salt to him.

He smiled at her, but at the same time there was a bit of a pleading look in his eyes. He tugged on his foot again, but she only clamped harder. He wasn’t going to get off that easily. He started this, after all.

Her father turned back to talking to Uncle Éomer and Ivy picked up her next sausage, not even bothering with the fork this time. She brought it up to her mouth, slowly. She saw Pippin wince and his leg stiffened.

Keeping watch on her father out of the corner of her eye, she stared at Pippin and started her assault on the sausage. She pushed her tongue out to lick around the end again, then pushed the sausage into her mouth, farther this time.

Pippin breathing appeared to be a little heavy now, and his hands were gripping tight to the edge of the table as he watched her. She grinned around the sausage and pulled it out, then made a show of licking the grease from her lips. Pippin tried to get his foot back again, more insistent this time, but she refused to let go. She gave him a crooked grin. She guessed he was having a bit of ‘discomfort’ in his trousers by now.

Her father turned his attention back to Pippin and Ivy went back to her breakfast.

“Are you sure you’re all right, Pippin?” he asked. “You look flushed.”

“No, I’m fine. Really,” said Pippin, forcing a smile at her dad. “A bit tired, I guess.” He shrugged. “I didn’t get much sleep this week.” Pippin cringed, obviously realising what he’d said--and what it implied. Ivy saw her father go a little red in the cheeks.

“Yeah. Um...all right,” her father said. He glanced over at Ivy, turned a bit brighter red, then went back to talking to his other guests.

Pippin threw her a dirty look and made another go at getting his foot back. Ivy quickly reached under the table to grab his foot, holding it by the hair. She shook her head and picked up the third sausage.

Pippin squeezed his eyes shut and Ivy patiently waited for him to open them. When he did, she plunged the end of the sausage in her mouth and sucked, hollowing her cheeks.

Pippin had that wide-eyed look again. He squirmed in his seat and pulled against the hold on his foot.

“Enjoying your sausage, Ivy?”

Ivy jumped in surprise, biting through the sausage. Pippin gave a little yelp and jerked his foot free. Ivy looked sheepishly at Estella, her face burning.

Estella was grinning at her. Then she heard a snicker beside her. She looked up at her mother’s equally amused grin.

Ivy groaned and looked away. She’d been so worried about her Dad seeing what she was doing, she had completely forgotten about them. And by their amused looks, she had to assume they’d seen everything.

“Those came from Freddy’s hogs, you know,” Estella said cheerfully. “I can have him send some packages to you, since you seem to like them so much.”

Ivy risked a peek up. Estella was pursing her lips now, fighting  back her laughter. Ivy didn’t bother looking at her mother. She was pretty sure Éowyn had an identical expression. Instead she looked up at Pippin. He was staring intently at his breakfast, but Ivy could see his cheeks were flaming. 

“What’s going on?” Ivy’s dad asked, looking around at them.

“I think you’re right, Merry,” Éowyn said. “I think Pippin does look a bit flushed.” Éowyn smiled at Pippin. “Maybe you should go back to bed and Ivy can bring you some tea.”

Pippin nodded. “Right. I think I’ll do that.” He stood up, a little shaky, and quickly turned away from everyone. “Coming, Ivy?” he asked.

Ivy stood up. She avoided looking at Estella and Éowyn and went over to take Pippin’s arm. Pippin said a hasty good-bye to the guests and they quickly left the room.

Once they were out of the sight of everyone, Pippin quickened their pace, nearly dragging her down the hall to their room. Once inside, he shut the door and turned to her.

“That was cruel,” he said. He breathing a little heavily for just a trot down the hall.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You were the one who started it!”

He started to say something, then stopped. He sighed. “Fine. It’s my fault.” Then he pouted. “And I didn’t even get to eat much for breakfast.”

“That’s too bad.” She stepped close to him and looked into his eyes. “The sausages were very good,” she purred. Then she reached out to cup the bulge in his trousers, making him moan. She leaned in to whisper in his ear. “And I seem to have one left.”

He was suddenly kissing her, his tongue pushing into his mouth as he pushed her back towards the bed. Her legs came up against the mattress and he started to push her back, but she broke the kiss and wriggled away from him. 

His whine of protest was cut off when she pushed him over onto the bed. He was giving her that wide-eyed look again and she grinned at him. She climbed onto the bed next to him and started working on the buttons of his trousers.

“Ivy!” he breathed when she grasped his erection. She just winked at him and bent down to take him in her mouth. She ran her tongue around him, broad swipes alternating with gentle flicks. She’d learned a lot in their last few days at Crickhollow and knew exactly what to do to drive him mad.

He was gasping now, moaning deep in his throat and she could tell he was struggling to keep from thrusting into her mouth. One of his hands was on her head, absently stroking through her hair. The other had a grip on the blanket.

He shuddered. “Ivy, Ivy, stop!” he panted. She let him go and looked up at him. He was breathing hard, his eyes glazed. He reached for her, grabbing her arms to pull her up to lay next to him. He rolled her over on her back, at the same time reaching down to push up her skirts. Then he was on top of her, settling between her thighs. She brought her knees up, moving her hips to meet his. He kissed her, his tongue thrusting into her mouth as he thrust into her.

He was so close already that after only a few deep thrusts he was climaxing, groaning into her mouth. But the heat and passion of the moment still left her breathless. He lay on top of her for a moment, until his breathing started to slow, then he kissed her again, gently this time.

“Mmm, you taste like sausage,” he said.

She giggled and cocked an eyebrow at him. “Which one?”

He groaned and rolled off of her, laughing. She turned onto her side to look at him, reaching out to run a finger along the buttons of his shirt. “That will teach you to tease me at the table,” she said.

He grinned. “ I can only hope you’ll teach me more lessons!”

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