Keep It Secret

by Milly

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Gandalf/?

Summary: Two unlikely partners share a night of bliss. Pure PWP.

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, no $$ made. Enjoy!

Oh, those fingers . . . in the darkness, and utter silence of the night, I lie obediently still, allowing gentle, caressing fingertips to stroke me here, and then there . . . I am so intimidated, and so afraid! For this, you see, is the very first time I have been with this man, and I know this is going to go farther this time, much farther than when I am with my usual companion. And him? Well, my daily comrade and frequent friend is roughly the same age as me--well, alright, a couple years older. And much wiser, and sharper.

We have lain together in a very similar way, many times; but this is very different, even so. I am afraid of the one I am with now, though he has never done anything to harm me. Let's just say, he has frightened me terribly. I have managed to anger him on many occasions, by just being myself. I suppose I anger a lot of people with that.

But, back to the present . . . the caressing has become more urgent, and his touch is stronger now, pressing into me harder with each touch. I wonder if he even realizes it? He murmurs to me softly, so as not to be heard by the others ( for we have very little privacy in this place we have come to ): "Easy, little one, are you alright still? Am I going too fast? I do not want you to be frightened . . ." He kisses my neck, and I am dizzy with excitement. I could not have even imagined feeling such excitement before tonight. I whisper back to him, trying to hide my nervousness and fear, " No, no, I am alright. I don't want you to stop!" And I don't--I would probably do anything that was asked of me, for him to continue in this way.

I open my tightly closed eyes now, and I see he is faintly glowing--yes--glowing; a slight radiance surrounds him, as he hovers above me as some great apparition. I am on my back, and he lies closely on me now, face to face; I can feel him pressing into me, that not-so-subtle hardness pressing, pushing against me. My heartbeat is racing, thundering, and I can barely form the words as I ask him: "What are you going to do, I mean, is there more?" He chuckles very softly at my foolishness, and kisses my throat again, and answers "Ah, so eager, are we? My brave boy, be patient . . . the rose must not be torn open too fast, or too roughly!" As usual, I have no idea what he is trying to say to me. I merely sigh, and try to relax ( very difficult ), and suddenly, and yet with remarkable gentleness, he slips a hand under my rear and lifts me up, positioning me differently. By pure instinct I wrap my ( trembling ) legs around his back, and he tells me "Yes, yes, that's right, very good, little one!"

Such fear I still feel, such apprehension! He could not be more gentle, or take more care, but I am still afraid. I can't help it. I really have only a vague idea what is going to happen, and the only thing I really know for sure is that I want it to happen. I would not have let him stop, not now. He softly whispers words to me, in some strange language

(Elvish?), and they have an effect on me, somehow. My fear diminishes greatly, and I feel my entire body relax, the unpleasant tension leaving me. I am able now to feel the desire much more clearly, unhidden by terror of the unknown. I clutch at his broad shoulders, he still wears his cloak, perhaps thinking to be fully clothed if we were discovered. As for myself, my thin garment is soaked with sweat, and my scarf is long off my neck, lying beside me. My trousers are half off, only on by one leg, and my dirty vest is somewhere on the floor.

"Now . . ." he whispers soothingly, "You are ready, aren't you? Yes, I believe you are . . . as am I . . ." My legs are still wrapped around him, and he carefully moves me a bit, so I am down farther, and now my legs are up more, and I feel suddenly quite helpless and vulnerable, but there is no fear anymore, not after the strange foreign words were spoken. I am so much smaller than him, anyway, and now I am utterly helpless under him. And I am even more excited by that, even though it makes no sense! I often make no sense, I am told.

His finger slowly trails down and around, and then enters me with a careful pressure, not alarming, only urgently. He is kissing my neck, over and over, and then with his free hand lifts my chin so he can reach my mouth. I am nearly in tears with the thrill of it, and as I close my eyes he presses his tongue (so hot!) between my lips, and then deeper. As if from somewhere very far away, I hear myself moaning, almost whimpering. The taste of him is so good, so good, rich with the evening's ale, and pipeweed as well, although I have never tasted pipeweed before, a smoky-musky taste.

The kissing lasts a long time, as does the skillful ministrations of his fingers--for it began as one, and now there are two, exploring my burning insides. "Just a moment . . ." he whispers to me, and I dread that he is going to stop, something must be wrong, perhaps we are in danger? And then I feel something oily, oily and vaguely warm, being administered to me inside now, a great deal of it in fact. " To ease the way . . ." he tells me, and then with sudden swiftness, he bears down on me again, but it is different this time, and there is a seriousness now, and I feel the pressure against me, there, and then beginning to be inside me, and I am starting to feel . . . how can I say? . . . filled up . . . full inside . . .

Out of nowhere, I feel some fear again, and I squirm under him, but he does not let me move away ( I knew he would not ). "Be calm, be calm, I will not hurt you. Lie back and be easy . . ." His words caress my senses, and he strokes my face soothingly, and pushes into me fully, so slowly, so carefully. I clutch his shoulders, desperate in some nameless way, and begin to realize how intense the pleasure is from this. I have not even realized till now that I am crying out, unable to be silent, and he is muffling my loud cries against his cloak. I am wrapped around him, arms and legs, tightly, and he embraces me around my shoulders and kisses me again, with great passion. Deeply he goes in, and then slowly withdraws, and each time I think he is going to withdraw all the way, and then I am impaled fully again.

Ever the master of his domain, my first real lover is nearly silent, except for his heavy breathing, and the few words he whispers to me in my ear, coaxing, soothing . . . . I, on the other hand, am spinning, dizzy with it, and I cannot keep from crying out. Something is building, rising inside me, and it far more than the localized pleasure I have been able to give myself in private. It is throughout my whole body, or maybe my whole self. Something is about to unleash itself inside me, and I feel it coming, and there is no stopping it. My lover is pounding inside me, now, and I am on the verge of fainting; his hand shifts me slightly, and now the pounding is from a different angle, and oh, by the Valar! What has he done?

Every push is causing tremendous pleasure now, and it is so different! I was enjoying it before, to be sure, but everything has changed. Something inside is being rubbed, being hammered into, I don't know what, or why, and I don't care. A sudden huge wave of sensation roars through my whole shivering body, and for a moment I really do black out, the ecstasy of it is too much, and then I am aware again, of throbbing waves of pure bliss, that radiate outwards. He holds me tightly, kissing my hair and face, and I cannot speak, but can only gasp and writhe against him. And then for a moment he is utterly still, and he catches his breath sharply, and I feel warmth of a new kind filling my tingling insides.

We lie together for a very long time, not speaking, only holding each other. I feel like a child in his arms, so small. I suppose I am like a child to him, really, most of the time, so annoying. But not tonight. Not grown up either, not really, but no child.


I awaken to a soft prodding in my ribs, and open bleary, sleepy eyes to see the great glimmering white form standing over me. Mithrandir stands above me like a pale giant, his long over-cloak being blown by the morning breeze. I smile at him, shyly, a little embarrassed, and not sure how he would feel about the previous evening's joys. But I need not have feared. He kneels down to me, with a mischievous look in his beautiful blue eyes, and mock-threatens me with the great Staff: "Peregrin Took! Still lazy?"

He leans in close to me, and whispers: "Not a word, Pippin, to anyone, do you hear? Or it will not happen again! Remember: keep it secret: keep it SAFE!"