(no subject)
Title: Stay with Me
Author: Frodo_naatulien
Pairing: F/S
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Frodo’s a bit lonely and Sam is just what he needs. And Frodo is just what Sam needs.
A/N: (Squee!) This is my very first fic. Lots of fluff, I guess. Mild angst. It’s just simply- a day in the life of Frodo and Sam.
Sincere thanks to my beta and truly wonderful new friend, Lyrastar77. Thank you so much for your time and patience, and your wonderful suggestions. I know I’ve already told you this, but I’ll say it again. You were such a great help to me and you made the beta process very pleasant indeed. Thank you… thank you… thank you! : )
Warning(s): There is one small scene that involves questionable intentions, but that’s about all the warning that is needed really. And after reading, you'll see that it all comes together and makes perfect, loving sense.
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. Just borrowing them from J.R.R. Tolkien for… as Bilbo put it, “just a bit of fun.”
Part 3 - Afters
“Sam!” Frodo hollered from the cellar. “What would you have with lunch to quench your thirst, wine or ale?”
Sam quirked his eyebrows and gave a little smirk in silent response. He could think of a lot of things that would quench his thirst right now, none of which involved wine or ale. You spread out and writhing on this table bare as the day you was born would quench my thirst all right, was the first thing that came to mind and he actually felt his face redden at that thought but his actual, yet somewhat strangled reply was, “Ale, sir, will be just fine, thank you.”
Sam still addressed Frodo with the proper honorifics, on most occasions anyways and certainly when they were among others or out in public, even though Frodo was constantly telling him to, ‘Lose the sir, Sam’, or ‘Please, Sam, enough with the Mister’, or even ‘I am not your Master, Sam, when you are making love to me, or I to you.’
Well, Frodo could tell him this until the Elves came to dinner, but to Sam’s way o’ thinkin’, it was simply out of respect - and a bit of habit too. And habits are extremely hard to break. And even though they were lovers now - Frodo, when all was said and done, was still his Master. But he really did try his hardest, when it was just the two of them, to call Frodo by his given name. He knew it meant a lot to Frodo; and to himself, it did seem more personal and more appropriate when they were being intimate. So he definitely put forth his best efforts to do so.
Frodo came in with a pitcher of ale and set it on the table. Sam was more the ale drinker, Frodo preferring a good glass of fine wine, but a cold ale on a day like today sounded rather refreshing indeed. He poured their mugs as Sam was setting the fried mushrooms down on to the table.
“Shall I heat those up again, Sam? Surely they’ve gone cold by now,” Frodo asked.
Sam glanced over at Frodo and grinned, his face still a bit flushed from that fresh vision of a moment ago of Frodo sprawled out on the kitchen table in all his glory. “I reckon… “ and to this he paused, waiting for Frodo to return the glance. When he did, Sam continued, a sly smirk breaking out on his face, “I reckon you was quicker than we thought. They’re still warm.”
Frodo simply grinned back, biting his lip and blushing profusely.
“And besides,” said Sam in a more serious, yet light reprimanding tone, “if there’s anything needs heatin’ up, I’ll be doin’ the heatin’, sir, beggin’ your pardon.”
And because Sam’s mind again went back to the mushroom mishap from earlier, and had switched to his take-care-of-his-master mode, he didn’t quite catch what he had said.
But Frodo did. And for a split second, his mouth dropping slightly open, Frodo felt those familiar, sharp stabs at his insides again- and then he fell into a fit of giggles and just about giggled himself silly.
Sam caught on quick enough and joined him.
After collecting themselves, they both sat down at the table, most of it having been laid out earlier, of course. Frodo on one side and Sam straight across from him, just as Frodo had also arranged earlier. Frodo glanced over at Sam and brought his hands up on to the table, reaching out for Sam’s. Sam understood and placed his hands on the table, palms up and Frodo lowered his to Sam’s as Sam held and squeezed them gently. They both closed their eyes and bowed their heads and Frodo said a short blessing of thanks for the plentiful fare that lay before them and a blessing of thanks for having someone as special as Sam to share, not only this feast with, but his life and his love with also; Love that he’d held in his heart for so long, for Samwise Gamgee alone.
When he looked up, Sam had let go of one of his hands and was looking down in his lap and brushing over his eyes with the linen napkin.
“I’m sorry, Sam,” Frodo said. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
Sam looked back at him and gave him a reassuring smile, “No… no… you’d not be embarrassing me at all, Frodo. That was just… sweet, that was.”
Again they exchanged smiles then dove in to the feast before them.
After a few moments of eating in silence Sam swallowed his mouthful, took a sip of his ale then spoke quietly, “Frodo?”
“What, Sam?” Frodo answered warmly, swallowing his bite and, too, following it with a sip of ale.
“Does it really bother you when I tell you you’re beautiful? Cause you ain’t never said nothin’ afore.”
Frodo chuckled lightly, “No, Sam. But please, I beg you…” he said, breaking into a laugh and making a pleading gesture with his hands, “…don’t call me that in front of Merry or Pippin or they’ll find some way of teasing me about it for the rest of my days. I shall never live to hear the end of it you know.”
Sam cocked an eyebrow, “Well now, I ain’t sayin’ as I’m for sure and all, but I’m bettin’ Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin might agree with me on that.”
“Well, maybe so Sam,“ Frodo grinned, abashed, as he started to take another bite, then paused with his fork in mid-air before setting it back on his plate and resting his arm on the edge of the table, “But you do know we’re talking about my wild, crazy-rascal cousins, Merry and Pippin, right? Whether they would agree or not, I assure you they will still find some way to turn your compliment - and I do take it as one Sam, thank you - but they will find some way to twist it all around and inside out and upside down and whatever other way they can find just so they could tease me about it,” and then he reached for his fork again.
Sam gave a soft chuckle but answered with a little trepidation. “All right, Mr. Frodo, I’ll do my best but I can’t say as it won’t mayhap slip out a time or two, beggin’ your pardon ahead o’ time.”
“Oh, Sam,” Frodo laughed, his smile waning just a bit and his expression quickly turning apologetic. “I’m sorry. I was merely joking, Sam. Merry and Pippin will tease me, of course, but I only meant they’d tease me in a fun sort of way really, and I can handle those cousins of mine. I shouldn’t even have said anything. I didn’t mean it really,” he said, the tone in his voice becoming more considerate. “It was very rude of me, Sam, and I apologize. And honestly, it doesn’t bother me - truly. You’re very sweet Sam… and you may call me what you like.”
Both of Sam’s eyebrows went up this time, “Sweet, Sam?” he mimicked in query.
Frodo sighed as if defeated, “All right… all right, Sam! Yes! You’re… sweet, Sam… and I’m… beautiful… and I do get your point sweet Sam,” he reiterated with slight exaggeration, giggling. “And let’s leave it at that then, shall we?” he finished, both of them chuckling as they took their next bite.
They took their time eating and continued their meal with light conversation as the storm raged on outside.
Their conversation consisted mostly of small talk; Sam filled Frodo in on some of the little goings on around town, to which Frodo was all ears. These bits of information he’d mostly picked up from his visits to the Green Dragon with his old gaffer. Sittin’ in an establishment with a bunch of ale-drinkin’ hobbits relaxin’ after a hard days work, and everybody tryin’ to outtalk the other, you’re bound to leave with an earful whether you want to know what it is you heard or not. And more often times it was not. That was pretty much how Sam saw it. But, occasionally, he did pick up pertinent bits of information.
By the end of their meal, the rain was still coming down hard but not quite as heavy as before and the wind was blowing in more steady now instead of great big gusts.
Frodo ventured to say, “It doesn’t look like you’ll be getting back out in the garden today, Sam.”
“Nope, I reckon not,” Sam answered. “But it’s still a bit too early to tell. We’d be needin’ this rain and all but too much of it at one time ain’t a good thing neither. It might start washin’ things away or drownin’ ‘em one.”
“Well, I don’t see that happening, as dry as things are,” Frodo replied.
‘No, I don’t reckon I do neither,” Sam trailed off as he turned his head and glanced out the window. “But if it don’t let up some ‘afore the days done we’re all going to be wallerin’ knee-deep in mud.”
“Yes, well… that might be interesting,” Frodo was quick to reply. He smiled shyly, his cheeks colouring again, “Knee-deep… or… perhaps… entire body deep sounds like fun… wouldn’t you say, Sam?”
Well that got certain things stirring again all right. “Mmm… “, Sam nodded back with a smile, then began eagerly, “I’m thinkin’ it’s time I get these here dishes cleaned up.” And standing would be a good thing right about now too, Sam thought, since sitting was becoming way too uncomfortable all of a sudden.
He thanked Frodo again for the wonderful - surprise - lunch and they both began clearing the table. Sam filled the basin with water and began soaping the dishes.
“So which do you prefer, Sam, washing or drying?” Frodo asked as he continued clearing the table.
Sam came up behind him and placed his hands on Frodo’s shoulders, trying to direct him out of the kitchen, “No, Frodo, you go on. I’ll take care of the cleanin’.”
Frodo simply twisted around out of Sam’s grasp and headed towards the wash basin, “Yes, well, it’ll go faster if I help, and the day’s not getting any longer, Sam, and as you said, it’s still a little too early to tell, and what if it stops raining and you have to go ho… “ Frodo paused and then turned his head towards Sam as Sam came up beside him, “What I mean is… what I’m trying to say is… “
Sam knew exactly what he was trying to say and spared Frodo any further attempts at trying to convince him. “All right Frodo, I’ll wash and you dry.”
As they finished the dishes, and put the leftovers away, Sam reached over and pulled Frodo into his arms and hugged him. “Thank you again for the wonderful lunch, Frodo, and thank you for your help cleanin’ up too,” he murmured in his hair. And oh, Frodo’s body felt so good pressed up against him. Things were stirred up all right. “I’m thinkin’ I’d be gettin’ close to bein’ ready for that dessert right about now,” Sam muttered, as he drew back a little, looking into Frodo’s eyes.
Sam’s soft voice and what he said resonated through Frodo and simply turned Frodo into butter right on the spot and Sam noticed those bright, clear eyes weren’t so bright and clear any more. Frodo’s eyes were shimmering and dark with lust.
Frodo felt Sam’s stirring, and responded with a haltingly, raspy voice, “And… I think I’m… more than ready to give you that dessert now, Sam.”
Well that did it for Sam. They made it part way down the hall before Sam pushed Frodo up against the wall and leaned hard into him. “Oh, Frodo,” he breathed, as he kissed his mouth with an insatiable hunger and thrust hard against him. “I want you so bad.”
“Mmmy-yes… mmm… Sam… “ Frodo tried to answer between kisses, as Sam was yanking Frodo’s shirt up out of his breeches and sliding his hands up underneath. “But not…mmmhere, Sam,” Frodo tried again, with soft puffing breaths. “Huhhh… mmy bed, Sam.” And oh! Sam’s hands were doing some wonderful things. “Let’s at least make it… nguh… back to… mybedSammmm… all right?”
~*~
And so, they did. They made it to Frodo’s bedroom and, quite astonishingly, they were both still fully clothed. Sam immediately headed them over to the bed and gently pushed Frodo down onto it. Frodo scooted over and Sam lay down beside him.
“I just want to say one thing, Frodo, ‘afore we get started,” Sam began, his excitement building.
Frodo laughed, “It seems we’ve already started, Sam.”
Chuckling, Sam continued, “Yeah, I reckon, but if it can be ‘elped,” he breathed, “I don’t want us to have to get out of this bed the rest of the day.”
“Sam…” Frodo chuckled, “That sounds quite delightful indeed, but I’m sure we’ll have to eat again.”
Sam looked at him in complete surprise. “Well now, there’s an eye-opener. Frodo Baggins!” he chided. “How come it is, I can’t never get you to eat nothin’ proper on most days and now, after we’ve just done and ate, you’re already thinkin’ on the next meal?”
Frodo giggled, then nonchalantly proceeded to go into an explanation, “Yes, well… I hardly expend any energy sitting in my study reading and writing now, do I Sam.” And in one quick move he was on top of Sam, grinding his hips into him, grinning impishly, “But… “ he murmured, as he bent down and pressed their lips softly together, emitting a low growl, “… making love, Sam… is quite different.”
And that did it again. But as aroused as he was, Sam lay there pondering at that last statement, trying to ignore his own physical reaction to Frodo rocking on top of him, regardless of the fact that it was becoming increasingly more difficult with each and every slow, gentle thrust from Frodo’s hips, and then said matter-of-factly, “Well, that’s it then.”
Frodo brought his knees up under him and sat up, straddling Sam’s hips. He bent down and began licking and trailing kisses along Sam’s neck, “Mmmmm… what Sam?” he murmured, while his hands worked at Sam’s shirt buttons.
With a swift and unexpected move, Sam flipped them over so Frodo was now pinned beneath him, “Don’t know why I never thought o’ it before,” he casually continued.
Sam gave a slow, deep thrust with his hips and Frodo grunted, “Wha-at, Sam… tho-ought of what?” Again reaching for and attempting to unbutton Sam’s shirt.
He sat up and straddled Frodo’s hips and simply stated, “Whenever it is I see you’re not eatin’ proper, I reckon I’ll just have to take you to bed first is all.”
Frodo gave a contented sigh having finally accomplished his task, and then took the bottom corners of Sam’s shirt and spread it open, running his eyes over Sam’s oh-so-naked chest. Then, having just realized what Sam had just said - and a bit on the slow side at that Sam thought - he burst out laughing. And when he could pull himself together enough he said, between chuckles, “Then I give you my word, Sam, I shall purposely starve myself from now on.”
Sam gave him a playful shove to the side of his head and a look that spoke a thousand words without Sam having to voice a single one at all. And out of those thousand words unspoken, Frodo discerned only three and those three words jokingly, yet earnestly said, “Don’t you dare!”
And then suddenly, Sam’s playfulness turned to a full-blown, inescapable, passionate desire. He’d put his pleasure off as he’d wanted and for that he was glad, but now his desire was reawakening tenfold and he was becoming achingly desperate and… Oh Sweet Elbereth, that impossibly attractive hobbit lying beneath him with the most unbearably piercing, bluest eyes he’d ever seen, bluer than the bluest sky itself, wasn’t helping matters one bit. Not one bit at all.
“Aye, well I’m starvin’ now, Frodo, but you can bet it ain’t food as I’m hungerin’ for,” was Sam’s husky reply.
“Then, by the stars, Sam, whatever are we waiting for?” chuckled Frodo, finding Sam’s need not only - extremely arousing - of course, but quite charming too.
Sam quickly removed the rest of his shirt, dropping it on the floor at the side of the bed. Frodo’s hands went for the buttons on Sam’s breeches and Sam grabbed his wrists and stopped him.
He bent down and kissed him, “Not yet,” he whispered.
Letting go of Frodo’s wrists, he sat back up, his hands going straight for Frodo’s shirt buttons. Frodo’s hands came up to help but Sam stayed them again, and began quickly unbuttoning them himself with unsteady hands. He spread Frodo’s shirt open and leaned back on his heels and immediately let out a shivering breath. He was so beautiful! His lover was so beautiful! Never had he ever seen anyone with such beauty. And through this face that was all flushed now, through those dark, shimmering eyes staring back at him, Sam saw a deep yearning, a longing for, a desire that matched his own.
Then he took his hands, which had begun to shake even more, and cupped them lovingly around Frodo’s thin waist, running them ever so slowly up and over his ribcage, each finger falling in and out of each curve between each rib, then dragging them, trembling, up slowly across his chest.
There was a fire burning in him now. A fire ignited by the sheer beauty of his lover lying there, taking pleasure from his touch. Frodo’s body was responding to this touch; his breath was quickening and Sam could feel Frodo’s body trembling beneath him, and all of this was fuel for the fire.
Frodo reached for the buttons on Sam’s breeches a second time but Sam stayed him again without saying a word. Frodo merely stared at him and watched as Sam removed his own breeches and underclothes, wishing Sam would allow him to participate, if just but a little. He wanted to touch Sam. He wanted to pleasure him. But he really wasn’t quite sure what Sam had in mind, and if Sam wasn’t going to let him participate then he wasn’t quite sure he was going to like it, whatever it was.
“Sam.”
It was not a question really and there was no reply and Frodo could see that Sam was oblivious of him, or almost oblivious anyway, it seemed, and it frightened him just a bit.
Sam stared down at his lover, his desire gripping him like a vise, and nothing else existed to him in this whole entire world, except Frodo. Frodo and this… and this… this unbearable aching need that he’d put off for far too long. Oh save me! he thought. He was losing control; his reason blinded by his need. And everything in him was telling him to stop, but t’weren’t nothin’ he could do about it, it seemed. His mind was pulling him one way and his body was pulling him another and right at the moment, his body was getting the upper hand. He began frantically fumbling with the buttons on Frodo’s breeches. Again, Frodo reached to help and this time Sam gruffly batted his hands away and, finding it impossible to get those blasted buttons undone, Sam just ripped the front of Frodo’s breeches wide open and began yanking his breeches and his underclothes off of him more forcefully than was needed.
Frodo instinctively yelled out, “Sam!”
And now, Frodo knew where this was going and that it had gone far enough and he knew he needed to stop Sam and bring him back to reality, because if he didn’t do something now, he could see that the situation was quickly headed towards becoming unstoppable and Sam really was starting to scare him.
“Sam!” he yelled again to no avail, trying to grab at Sam’s hands.
Sam got his lower garments off and started to come down on him when Frodo’s knees came up and he shot his arms up and locked his elbows to hold him back, yelling a third time, “Stop, Sam!... Stop!”
Sam did come around this time and when his mind cleared, Frodo came into his vision. Only this time, he was wide-eyed and panicked and looking as though he were about to flee. Sam was completely horrified. He knew exactly what was happening, or thought he did anyway. He’d had a dream once - well, a nightmare more like - that he had wanted Frodo so bad but knew he couldn’t have him, and out of this hopeless desperation he’d lost any and all control and simply took what he knew he could never have, and now, it seemed that it’d really happened. He’d let himself get too aroused. He’d let it get out of hand; let himself lose control. The nightmare had really happened. He couldn’t believe it. He was just about to scream at the top of his lungs and flee himself when Frodo’s expression calmed and his arms and legs relaxed and he said, a bit unsteady, “Sam… please… you’re going too fast. You… you just need to slow down a little.”
Sam let out a heavy sigh and just about collapsed, “Ohhh!”
Oh! He was so relieved. He had gone that far out of reality he wasn’t sure what had happened. But it hadn’t happened! Oh, Sweet Elbereth! It hadn’t happened. He fell down beside Frodo and held him tight, “Oh Frodo,” he choked out. “I’m… I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I am. It’s just… It’s just… Oh, Frodo… I want you so bad sometimes… I can hardly stand it.”
Frodo also sighed with relief and he returned the embrace, happy that Sam was back with him. “It’s all right, Sam,” he said quietly. “Just… stay with me next time. Don’t leave me like that again.”
He buried his face in Sam’s neck and then whispered softly, “I want you too, Sam. I do. I want to pleasure you so much… and I want this time to be for you, Sam, but you’ll have to go slower.”
Frodo’s words cut Sam clean to the bone and just about made him break down and cry right there. But he held it together. “Oh, Frodo!” he muttered. “I want to pleasure you. Pleasuring you is for me, Frodo. Don’t you see?”
He rolled them over carefully, Frodo underneath him again, and now nothing between them but hard throbbing flesh against hard throbbing flesh, both of their needs now noticeably awakening; only this time, he told himself, he would be in control.
He rested on his elbows, cradling the side of Frodo’s head in one hand and brushing through his curls with the other. “I love you so much, Frodo,” he whispered, his eyes starting to prickle.
He bent down and placed his lips over Frodo’s and kissed him lazily, slipping his tongue between Frodo’s soft, wet lips and sliding their tongues together. Sweet Eru, the feel of his mouth was so hot and arousing he thought it was going to be over for him before he even started.
He slid between Frodo’s legs, spreading them apart with his, and Frodo willingly opening up for him, then broke away from the kiss and sat back on his heels, gently grasping Frodo’s hips and lifting and pulling Frodo towards him. He settled Frodo’s lower half up close against him, and placed a pillow underneath Frodo to raise him just a little.
They were about to do something that, being fairly new in their relationship, they hadn’t done very often.
Frodo reached a hand over to the bedside table, fumbling in the drawer, then pulled out a small bottle of lavender oil and handed it to Sam. Sam opened it and poured a small amount in his hand and then wrapped his fingers around his own erection, coating himself with oil to ease the way. He poured a little more in his hand and this time wrapped his fingers around Frodo’s hard, velvety flesh and stroked him slowly, covering him with the oil also - to enhance Frodo’s sensation. Frodo let out a moan and thrust slowly into Sam’s hand.
Frodo’s moan shot through Sam like a bolt of lightning and he found that he could wait no longer. He leaned forward, pressing the tip against Frodo and pushed in as gently as he could, breaking through the tight barrier that only wanted to push him right back out at first. Frodo tensed instantly and his hands squeezed Sam’s arms with bruising strength. His face grimaced and Sam stopped abruptly, afraid he’d hurt him. “Mi... Frodo… are you all right?”
He asked with such a look of concern on his face that Frodo - although, yes, it did hurt just a little - forced a quick smile just to let Sam know that he was all right because right at the moment he couldn’t quite catch his breath to tell him that exactly. But Sam didn’t move again until he knew for sure.
Frodo’s breath caught a couple more times before he finally choked out, “I’m all right. But slow, Sam… take me slow.”
Relieved, Sam leaned down over him, brushing the damp curls from Frodo’s brow, and kissed him on the temple. He was barely in, but the tightness and warmth all around him already was sending stabbing pains through his groin and ricocheting throughout his entire body. He leaned further and murmured in Frodo’s ear, “Tell me when you’re ready, love,” then trailed a line of licks and kisses down along his jaw line and then on to the taut cords of Frodo’s throat, pausing and resting his lips at the soft, rapidly pulsing vein and lapping up the salty beads of sweat there.
Sam thought to himself how curious it was that this particular spot on Frodo’s neck, when bulging and pounding rapidly, could be so unbelievably arousing and when thumping slow and steady, could be so soothing and lulling. Over the years, he could actually tell a lot about Frodo’s state by this one spot alone. And over the years, this one spot on Frodo became one of his favorites, even long before they became intimate with each other. In fact, at one point in his life, he thought that getting a quick glimpse at this particular spot was about as close to intimacy as he would ever be able to get with Frodo. But even a glimpse at that was rare because Frodo didn’t often wear his shirtfront open, much to Sam’s disappointment.
Sam smiled at the memory, quickly brought out of his reverie by the sound of Frodo’s rapid and ragged breathing and the feel of Frodo’s chest heaving against his own. He had been barely thrusting in and out, his movement so subtle, so as to give Frodo time to get used to him, but at the same time, he had been teasingly stroking Frodo the entire time while suspended in his pleasant reverie that Frodo’s gentle squirming beneath him had quickly become desperate writhing.
“Now, Sam… “ Frodo gasped. “Please!… now.”
Sam could feel Frodo relax around him and with one slow, grinding push, he thrust himself all the way, pressing their lower halves tight and coupling them together as one, while grabbing hold of the top edge of the mattress and pressing his body down hard on Frodo. Frodo arched violently, throwing his head back into the pillows, clutching Sam’s outstretched arms, and they both let out a sharp cry. And then Frodo sucked in a harsh gasp and the tears were literally forced out of him beyond his control from the unexpected, intense emotion that swept through every fiber of his being, flowing through him like hot, molten lava, searing through his veins, and instantly overwhelming him.
Frodo spit out a gasp and sucked in another and his face twisted and, to Sam’s eyes, he looked as though he was in agony or severe pain, and Sam was taken aback. He didn’t quite know what he’d done or what was happening or if he’d hurt him or what. His mind was hazy. He was muddled and confused by his own intense emotion, by his own overwhelming desire.
And just as he was about to pull back, Frodo quickly reached up, wrapped his arms around Sam’s neck and pulled him down into a tighter embrace. He wanted to say something; to ease the concern he saw in Sam’s eyes again but his throat had constricted and his breath had caught again and it was just… simply impossible.
Sam eased away a bit and looked down into Frodo’s shimmering eyes, “Frodo?”
Frodo blinked several times trying to clear his vision but all he could see was a liquid prism of shadows. He swallowed hard and finally managed to gasp, “Oh, Sam… ngh… IloveyouSa-m,” he panted. “Please… don’t st... oh, don’t stop.”
Sam continued thrusting in and out slowly. But as much as he wanted to take his time watching and feeling his lover writhe in pleasure beneath him, he felt that he would have to arrive at his destination soon or else he thought he would die right here on top of Frodo. He thought his heart would just plain stop. It literally felt to him like a hand had wrapped around it and was squeezing it tight and not letting go. He lifted himself on one elbow and reached in hurriedly between their bodies and grabbed Frodo and began stroking him again firmly, matching his strokes to his own thrusts which had quickened.
Frodo let out a loud moan and his body jerked upwards in response to Sam’s touch and…
Oh, Sam was not going to last like this. He was literally getting dizzy. He spoke breathlessly, “Frodo… I don’t… I don’t think I can… I ca- … I can’t wait.”
Frodo held Sam close to him with trembling arms around his neck and trembling knees squeezing Sam’s hips, his words choked and muffled in Sam’s neck, “Oh…ngh… I’m… me neither, Sam… uhhhhhhhhI’mcomingSam… I’m co… Oh Sa…”
And with that last, their bodies quivering together, Sam gave a few more deep thrusts, his hand pumping in unison, and Frodo clung to him with all his strength - his body shuddering and spasming against Sam’s, convulsing with wave after wave of blinding pleasure - screaming out his release against Sam’s neck and spilling out hot liquid between their sweat-slick bellies and over Sam’s hand again. And this time, Sam went with him, crying out in harmony and shooting out his own release inside his lover.
He didn’t know how it was possible to love Frodo any more than he already did. But somehow watching Frodo and seeing and feeling him caught in the throes of his own release dug so deep into the depths of Sam’s soul, into the very core of his being, releasing that love and making it possible.
He held Frodo in his hand until Frodo was completely spent, both of them clutched tightly together until finally their grips on each other released and their bodies collapsed from exhaustion. They lay there for long moments, completely sated and relaxed, without saying a word. Only the sound of the steady rain and their heavy breathing filled the air.
TBC
Part 4 - Fear Awakening.
Author: Frodo_naatulien
Pairing: F/S
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Frodo’s a bit lonely and Sam is just what he needs. And Frodo is just what Sam needs.
A/N: (Squee!) This is my very first fic. Lots of fluff, I guess. Mild angst. It’s just simply- a day in the life of Frodo and Sam.
Sincere thanks to my beta and truly wonderful new friend, Lyrastar77. Thank you so much for your time and patience, and your wonderful suggestions. I know I’ve already told you this, but I’ll say it again. You were such a great help to me and you made the beta process very pleasant indeed. Thank you… thank you… thank you! : )
Warning(s): There is one small scene that involves questionable intentions, but that’s about all the warning that is needed really. And after reading, you'll see that it all comes together and makes perfect, loving sense.
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. Just borrowing them from J.R.R. Tolkien for… as Bilbo put it, “just a bit of fun.”
Part 3 - Afters
“Sam!” Frodo hollered from the cellar. “What would you have with lunch to quench your thirst, wine or ale?”
Sam quirked his eyebrows and gave a little smirk in silent response. He could think of a lot of things that would quench his thirst right now, none of which involved wine or ale. You spread out and writhing on this table bare as the day you was born would quench my thirst all right, was the first thing that came to mind and he actually felt his face redden at that thought but his actual, yet somewhat strangled reply was, “Ale, sir, will be just fine, thank you.”
Sam still addressed Frodo with the proper honorifics, on most occasions anyways and certainly when they were among others or out in public, even though Frodo was constantly telling him to, ‘Lose the sir, Sam’, or ‘Please, Sam, enough with the Mister’, or even ‘I am not your Master, Sam, when you are making love to me, or I to you.’
Well, Frodo could tell him this until the Elves came to dinner, but to Sam’s way o’ thinkin’, it was simply out of respect - and a bit of habit too. And habits are extremely hard to break. And even though they were lovers now - Frodo, when all was said and done, was still his Master. But he really did try his hardest, when it was just the two of them, to call Frodo by his given name. He knew it meant a lot to Frodo; and to himself, it did seem more personal and more appropriate when they were being intimate. So he definitely put forth his best efforts to do so.
Frodo came in with a pitcher of ale and set it on the table. Sam was more the ale drinker, Frodo preferring a good glass of fine wine, but a cold ale on a day like today sounded rather refreshing indeed. He poured their mugs as Sam was setting the fried mushrooms down on to the table.
“Shall I heat those up again, Sam? Surely they’ve gone cold by now,” Frodo asked.
Sam glanced over at Frodo and grinned, his face still a bit flushed from that fresh vision of a moment ago of Frodo sprawled out on the kitchen table in all his glory. “I reckon… “ and to this he paused, waiting for Frodo to return the glance. When he did, Sam continued, a sly smirk breaking out on his face, “I reckon you was quicker than we thought. They’re still warm.”
Frodo simply grinned back, biting his lip and blushing profusely.
“And besides,” said Sam in a more serious, yet light reprimanding tone, “if there’s anything needs heatin’ up, I’ll be doin’ the heatin’, sir, beggin’ your pardon.”
And because Sam’s mind again went back to the mushroom mishap from earlier, and had switched to his take-care-of-his-master mode, he didn’t quite catch what he had said.
But Frodo did. And for a split second, his mouth dropping slightly open, Frodo felt those familiar, sharp stabs at his insides again- and then he fell into a fit of giggles and just about giggled himself silly.
Sam caught on quick enough and joined him.
After collecting themselves, they both sat down at the table, most of it having been laid out earlier, of course. Frodo on one side and Sam straight across from him, just as Frodo had also arranged earlier. Frodo glanced over at Sam and brought his hands up on to the table, reaching out for Sam’s. Sam understood and placed his hands on the table, palms up and Frodo lowered his to Sam’s as Sam held and squeezed them gently. They both closed their eyes and bowed their heads and Frodo said a short blessing of thanks for the plentiful fare that lay before them and a blessing of thanks for having someone as special as Sam to share, not only this feast with, but his life and his love with also; Love that he’d held in his heart for so long, for Samwise Gamgee alone.
When he looked up, Sam had let go of one of his hands and was looking down in his lap and brushing over his eyes with the linen napkin.
“I’m sorry, Sam,” Frodo said. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
Sam looked back at him and gave him a reassuring smile, “No… no… you’d not be embarrassing me at all, Frodo. That was just… sweet, that was.”
Again they exchanged smiles then dove in to the feast before them.
After a few moments of eating in silence Sam swallowed his mouthful, took a sip of his ale then spoke quietly, “Frodo?”
“What, Sam?” Frodo answered warmly, swallowing his bite and, too, following it with a sip of ale.
“Does it really bother you when I tell you you’re beautiful? Cause you ain’t never said nothin’ afore.”
Frodo chuckled lightly, “No, Sam. But please, I beg you…” he said, breaking into a laugh and making a pleading gesture with his hands, “…don’t call me that in front of Merry or Pippin or they’ll find some way of teasing me about it for the rest of my days. I shall never live to hear the end of it you know.”
Sam cocked an eyebrow, “Well now, I ain’t sayin’ as I’m for sure and all, but I’m bettin’ Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin might agree with me on that.”
“Well, maybe so Sam,“ Frodo grinned, abashed, as he started to take another bite, then paused with his fork in mid-air before setting it back on his plate and resting his arm on the edge of the table, “But you do know we’re talking about my wild, crazy-rascal cousins, Merry and Pippin, right? Whether they would agree or not, I assure you they will still find some way to turn your compliment - and I do take it as one Sam, thank you - but they will find some way to twist it all around and inside out and upside down and whatever other way they can find just so they could tease me about it,” and then he reached for his fork again.
Sam gave a soft chuckle but answered with a little trepidation. “All right, Mr. Frodo, I’ll do my best but I can’t say as it won’t mayhap slip out a time or two, beggin’ your pardon ahead o’ time.”
“Oh, Sam,” Frodo laughed, his smile waning just a bit and his expression quickly turning apologetic. “I’m sorry. I was merely joking, Sam. Merry and Pippin will tease me, of course, but I only meant they’d tease me in a fun sort of way really, and I can handle those cousins of mine. I shouldn’t even have said anything. I didn’t mean it really,” he said, the tone in his voice becoming more considerate. “It was very rude of me, Sam, and I apologize. And honestly, it doesn’t bother me - truly. You’re very sweet Sam… and you may call me what you like.”
Both of Sam’s eyebrows went up this time, “Sweet, Sam?” he mimicked in query.
Frodo sighed as if defeated, “All right… all right, Sam! Yes! You’re… sweet, Sam… and I’m… beautiful… and I do get your point sweet Sam,” he reiterated with slight exaggeration, giggling. “And let’s leave it at that then, shall we?” he finished, both of them chuckling as they took their next bite.
They took their time eating and continued their meal with light conversation as the storm raged on outside.
Their conversation consisted mostly of small talk; Sam filled Frodo in on some of the little goings on around town, to which Frodo was all ears. These bits of information he’d mostly picked up from his visits to the Green Dragon with his old gaffer. Sittin’ in an establishment with a bunch of ale-drinkin’ hobbits relaxin’ after a hard days work, and everybody tryin’ to outtalk the other, you’re bound to leave with an earful whether you want to know what it is you heard or not. And more often times it was not. That was pretty much how Sam saw it. But, occasionally, he did pick up pertinent bits of information.
By the end of their meal, the rain was still coming down hard but not quite as heavy as before and the wind was blowing in more steady now instead of great big gusts.
Frodo ventured to say, “It doesn’t look like you’ll be getting back out in the garden today, Sam.”
“Nope, I reckon not,” Sam answered. “But it’s still a bit too early to tell. We’d be needin’ this rain and all but too much of it at one time ain’t a good thing neither. It might start washin’ things away or drownin’ ‘em one.”
“Well, I don’t see that happening, as dry as things are,” Frodo replied.
‘No, I don’t reckon I do neither,” Sam trailed off as he turned his head and glanced out the window. “But if it don’t let up some ‘afore the days done we’re all going to be wallerin’ knee-deep in mud.”
“Yes, well… that might be interesting,” Frodo was quick to reply. He smiled shyly, his cheeks colouring again, “Knee-deep… or… perhaps… entire body deep sounds like fun… wouldn’t you say, Sam?”
Well that got certain things stirring again all right. “Mmm… “, Sam nodded back with a smile, then began eagerly, “I’m thinkin’ it’s time I get these here dishes cleaned up.” And standing would be a good thing right about now too, Sam thought, since sitting was becoming way too uncomfortable all of a sudden.
He thanked Frodo again for the wonderful - surprise - lunch and they both began clearing the table. Sam filled the basin with water and began soaping the dishes.
“So which do you prefer, Sam, washing or drying?” Frodo asked as he continued clearing the table.
Sam came up behind him and placed his hands on Frodo’s shoulders, trying to direct him out of the kitchen, “No, Frodo, you go on. I’ll take care of the cleanin’.”
Frodo simply twisted around out of Sam’s grasp and headed towards the wash basin, “Yes, well, it’ll go faster if I help, and the day’s not getting any longer, Sam, and as you said, it’s still a little too early to tell, and what if it stops raining and you have to go ho… “ Frodo paused and then turned his head towards Sam as Sam came up beside him, “What I mean is… what I’m trying to say is… “
Sam knew exactly what he was trying to say and spared Frodo any further attempts at trying to convince him. “All right Frodo, I’ll wash and you dry.”
As they finished the dishes, and put the leftovers away, Sam reached over and pulled Frodo into his arms and hugged him. “Thank you again for the wonderful lunch, Frodo, and thank you for your help cleanin’ up too,” he murmured in his hair. And oh, Frodo’s body felt so good pressed up against him. Things were stirred up all right. “I’m thinkin’ I’d be gettin’ close to bein’ ready for that dessert right about now,” Sam muttered, as he drew back a little, looking into Frodo’s eyes.
Sam’s soft voice and what he said resonated through Frodo and simply turned Frodo into butter right on the spot and Sam noticed those bright, clear eyes weren’t so bright and clear any more. Frodo’s eyes were shimmering and dark with lust.
Frodo felt Sam’s stirring, and responded with a haltingly, raspy voice, “And… I think I’m… more than ready to give you that dessert now, Sam.”
Well that did it for Sam. They made it part way down the hall before Sam pushed Frodo up against the wall and leaned hard into him. “Oh, Frodo,” he breathed, as he kissed his mouth with an insatiable hunger and thrust hard against him. “I want you so bad.”
“Mmmy-yes… mmm… Sam… “ Frodo tried to answer between kisses, as Sam was yanking Frodo’s shirt up out of his breeches and sliding his hands up underneath. “But not…mmmhere, Sam,” Frodo tried again, with soft puffing breaths. “Huhhh… mmy bed, Sam.” And oh! Sam’s hands were doing some wonderful things. “Let’s at least make it… nguh… back to… mybedSammmm… all right?”
~*~
And so, they did. They made it to Frodo’s bedroom and, quite astonishingly, they were both still fully clothed. Sam immediately headed them over to the bed and gently pushed Frodo down onto it. Frodo scooted over and Sam lay down beside him.
“I just want to say one thing, Frodo, ‘afore we get started,” Sam began, his excitement building.
Frodo laughed, “It seems we’ve already started, Sam.”
Chuckling, Sam continued, “Yeah, I reckon, but if it can be ‘elped,” he breathed, “I don’t want us to have to get out of this bed the rest of the day.”
“Sam…” Frodo chuckled, “That sounds quite delightful indeed, but I’m sure we’ll have to eat again.”
Sam looked at him in complete surprise. “Well now, there’s an eye-opener. Frodo Baggins!” he chided. “How come it is, I can’t never get you to eat nothin’ proper on most days and now, after we’ve just done and ate, you’re already thinkin’ on the next meal?”
Frodo giggled, then nonchalantly proceeded to go into an explanation, “Yes, well… I hardly expend any energy sitting in my study reading and writing now, do I Sam.” And in one quick move he was on top of Sam, grinding his hips into him, grinning impishly, “But… “ he murmured, as he bent down and pressed their lips softly together, emitting a low growl, “… making love, Sam… is quite different.”
And that did it again. But as aroused as he was, Sam lay there pondering at that last statement, trying to ignore his own physical reaction to Frodo rocking on top of him, regardless of the fact that it was becoming increasingly more difficult with each and every slow, gentle thrust from Frodo’s hips, and then said matter-of-factly, “Well, that’s it then.”
Frodo brought his knees up under him and sat up, straddling Sam’s hips. He bent down and began licking and trailing kisses along Sam’s neck, “Mmmmm… what Sam?” he murmured, while his hands worked at Sam’s shirt buttons.
With a swift and unexpected move, Sam flipped them over so Frodo was now pinned beneath him, “Don’t know why I never thought o’ it before,” he casually continued.
Sam gave a slow, deep thrust with his hips and Frodo grunted, “Wha-at, Sam… tho-ought of what?” Again reaching for and attempting to unbutton Sam’s shirt.
He sat up and straddled Frodo’s hips and simply stated, “Whenever it is I see you’re not eatin’ proper, I reckon I’ll just have to take you to bed first is all.”
Frodo gave a contented sigh having finally accomplished his task, and then took the bottom corners of Sam’s shirt and spread it open, running his eyes over Sam’s oh-so-naked chest. Then, having just realized what Sam had just said - and a bit on the slow side at that Sam thought - he burst out laughing. And when he could pull himself together enough he said, between chuckles, “Then I give you my word, Sam, I shall purposely starve myself from now on.”
Sam gave him a playful shove to the side of his head and a look that spoke a thousand words without Sam having to voice a single one at all. And out of those thousand words unspoken, Frodo discerned only three and those three words jokingly, yet earnestly said, “Don’t you dare!”
And then suddenly, Sam’s playfulness turned to a full-blown, inescapable, passionate desire. He’d put his pleasure off as he’d wanted and for that he was glad, but now his desire was reawakening tenfold and he was becoming achingly desperate and… Oh Sweet Elbereth, that impossibly attractive hobbit lying beneath him with the most unbearably piercing, bluest eyes he’d ever seen, bluer than the bluest sky itself, wasn’t helping matters one bit. Not one bit at all.
“Aye, well I’m starvin’ now, Frodo, but you can bet it ain’t food as I’m hungerin’ for,” was Sam’s husky reply.
“Then, by the stars, Sam, whatever are we waiting for?” chuckled Frodo, finding Sam’s need not only - extremely arousing - of course, but quite charming too.
Sam quickly removed the rest of his shirt, dropping it on the floor at the side of the bed. Frodo’s hands went for the buttons on Sam’s breeches and Sam grabbed his wrists and stopped him.
He bent down and kissed him, “Not yet,” he whispered.
Letting go of Frodo’s wrists, he sat back up, his hands going straight for Frodo’s shirt buttons. Frodo’s hands came up to help but Sam stayed them again, and began quickly unbuttoning them himself with unsteady hands. He spread Frodo’s shirt open and leaned back on his heels and immediately let out a shivering breath. He was so beautiful! His lover was so beautiful! Never had he ever seen anyone with such beauty. And through this face that was all flushed now, through those dark, shimmering eyes staring back at him, Sam saw a deep yearning, a longing for, a desire that matched his own.
Then he took his hands, which had begun to shake even more, and cupped them lovingly around Frodo’s thin waist, running them ever so slowly up and over his ribcage, each finger falling in and out of each curve between each rib, then dragging them, trembling, up slowly across his chest.
There was a fire burning in him now. A fire ignited by the sheer beauty of his lover lying there, taking pleasure from his touch. Frodo’s body was responding to this touch; his breath was quickening and Sam could feel Frodo’s body trembling beneath him, and all of this was fuel for the fire.
Frodo reached for the buttons on Sam’s breeches a second time but Sam stayed him again without saying a word. Frodo merely stared at him and watched as Sam removed his own breeches and underclothes, wishing Sam would allow him to participate, if just but a little. He wanted to touch Sam. He wanted to pleasure him. But he really wasn’t quite sure what Sam had in mind, and if Sam wasn’t going to let him participate then he wasn’t quite sure he was going to like it, whatever it was.
“Sam.”
It was not a question really and there was no reply and Frodo could see that Sam was oblivious of him, or almost oblivious anyway, it seemed, and it frightened him just a bit.
Sam stared down at his lover, his desire gripping him like a vise, and nothing else existed to him in this whole entire world, except Frodo. Frodo and this… and this… this unbearable aching need that he’d put off for far too long. Oh save me! he thought. He was losing control; his reason blinded by his need. And everything in him was telling him to stop, but t’weren’t nothin’ he could do about it, it seemed. His mind was pulling him one way and his body was pulling him another and right at the moment, his body was getting the upper hand. He began frantically fumbling with the buttons on Frodo’s breeches. Again, Frodo reached to help and this time Sam gruffly batted his hands away and, finding it impossible to get those blasted buttons undone, Sam just ripped the front of Frodo’s breeches wide open and began yanking his breeches and his underclothes off of him more forcefully than was needed.
Frodo instinctively yelled out, “Sam!”
And now, Frodo knew where this was going and that it had gone far enough and he knew he needed to stop Sam and bring him back to reality, because if he didn’t do something now, he could see that the situation was quickly headed towards becoming unstoppable and Sam really was starting to scare him.
“Sam!” he yelled again to no avail, trying to grab at Sam’s hands.
Sam got his lower garments off and started to come down on him when Frodo’s knees came up and he shot his arms up and locked his elbows to hold him back, yelling a third time, “Stop, Sam!... Stop!”
Sam did come around this time and when his mind cleared, Frodo came into his vision. Only this time, he was wide-eyed and panicked and looking as though he were about to flee. Sam was completely horrified. He knew exactly what was happening, or thought he did anyway. He’d had a dream once - well, a nightmare more like - that he had wanted Frodo so bad but knew he couldn’t have him, and out of this hopeless desperation he’d lost any and all control and simply took what he knew he could never have, and now, it seemed that it’d really happened. He’d let himself get too aroused. He’d let it get out of hand; let himself lose control. The nightmare had really happened. He couldn’t believe it. He was just about to scream at the top of his lungs and flee himself when Frodo’s expression calmed and his arms and legs relaxed and he said, a bit unsteady, “Sam… please… you’re going too fast. You… you just need to slow down a little.”
Sam let out a heavy sigh and just about collapsed, “Ohhh!”
Oh! He was so relieved. He had gone that far out of reality he wasn’t sure what had happened. But it hadn’t happened! Oh, Sweet Elbereth! It hadn’t happened. He fell down beside Frodo and held him tight, “Oh Frodo,” he choked out. “I’m… I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I am. It’s just… It’s just… Oh, Frodo… I want you so bad sometimes… I can hardly stand it.”
Frodo also sighed with relief and he returned the embrace, happy that Sam was back with him. “It’s all right, Sam,” he said quietly. “Just… stay with me next time. Don’t leave me like that again.”
He buried his face in Sam’s neck and then whispered softly, “I want you too, Sam. I do. I want to pleasure you so much… and I want this time to be for you, Sam, but you’ll have to go slower.”
Frodo’s words cut Sam clean to the bone and just about made him break down and cry right there. But he held it together. “Oh, Frodo!” he muttered. “I want to pleasure you. Pleasuring you is for me, Frodo. Don’t you see?”
He rolled them over carefully, Frodo underneath him again, and now nothing between them but hard throbbing flesh against hard throbbing flesh, both of their needs now noticeably awakening; only this time, he told himself, he would be in control.
He rested on his elbows, cradling the side of Frodo’s head in one hand and brushing through his curls with the other. “I love you so much, Frodo,” he whispered, his eyes starting to prickle.
He bent down and placed his lips over Frodo’s and kissed him lazily, slipping his tongue between Frodo’s soft, wet lips and sliding their tongues together. Sweet Eru, the feel of his mouth was so hot and arousing he thought it was going to be over for him before he even started.
He slid between Frodo’s legs, spreading them apart with his, and Frodo willingly opening up for him, then broke away from the kiss and sat back on his heels, gently grasping Frodo’s hips and lifting and pulling Frodo towards him. He settled Frodo’s lower half up close against him, and placed a pillow underneath Frodo to raise him just a little.
They were about to do something that, being fairly new in their relationship, they hadn’t done very often.
Frodo reached a hand over to the bedside table, fumbling in the drawer, then pulled out a small bottle of lavender oil and handed it to Sam. Sam opened it and poured a small amount in his hand and then wrapped his fingers around his own erection, coating himself with oil to ease the way. He poured a little more in his hand and this time wrapped his fingers around Frodo’s hard, velvety flesh and stroked him slowly, covering him with the oil also - to enhance Frodo’s sensation. Frodo let out a moan and thrust slowly into Sam’s hand.
Frodo’s moan shot through Sam like a bolt of lightning and he found that he could wait no longer. He leaned forward, pressing the tip against Frodo and pushed in as gently as he could, breaking through the tight barrier that only wanted to push him right back out at first. Frodo tensed instantly and his hands squeezed Sam’s arms with bruising strength. His face grimaced and Sam stopped abruptly, afraid he’d hurt him. “Mi... Frodo… are you all right?”
He asked with such a look of concern on his face that Frodo - although, yes, it did hurt just a little - forced a quick smile just to let Sam know that he was all right because right at the moment he couldn’t quite catch his breath to tell him that exactly. But Sam didn’t move again until he knew for sure.
Frodo’s breath caught a couple more times before he finally choked out, “I’m all right. But slow, Sam… take me slow.”
Relieved, Sam leaned down over him, brushing the damp curls from Frodo’s brow, and kissed him on the temple. He was barely in, but the tightness and warmth all around him already was sending stabbing pains through his groin and ricocheting throughout his entire body. He leaned further and murmured in Frodo’s ear, “Tell me when you’re ready, love,” then trailed a line of licks and kisses down along his jaw line and then on to the taut cords of Frodo’s throat, pausing and resting his lips at the soft, rapidly pulsing vein and lapping up the salty beads of sweat there.
Sam thought to himself how curious it was that this particular spot on Frodo’s neck, when bulging and pounding rapidly, could be so unbelievably arousing and when thumping slow and steady, could be so soothing and lulling. Over the years, he could actually tell a lot about Frodo’s state by this one spot alone. And over the years, this one spot on Frodo became one of his favorites, even long before they became intimate with each other. In fact, at one point in his life, he thought that getting a quick glimpse at this particular spot was about as close to intimacy as he would ever be able to get with Frodo. But even a glimpse at that was rare because Frodo didn’t often wear his shirtfront open, much to Sam’s disappointment.
Sam smiled at the memory, quickly brought out of his reverie by the sound of Frodo’s rapid and ragged breathing and the feel of Frodo’s chest heaving against his own. He had been barely thrusting in and out, his movement so subtle, so as to give Frodo time to get used to him, but at the same time, he had been teasingly stroking Frodo the entire time while suspended in his pleasant reverie that Frodo’s gentle squirming beneath him had quickly become desperate writhing.
“Now, Sam… “ Frodo gasped. “Please!… now.”
Sam could feel Frodo relax around him and with one slow, grinding push, he thrust himself all the way, pressing their lower halves tight and coupling them together as one, while grabbing hold of the top edge of the mattress and pressing his body down hard on Frodo. Frodo arched violently, throwing his head back into the pillows, clutching Sam’s outstretched arms, and they both let out a sharp cry. And then Frodo sucked in a harsh gasp and the tears were literally forced out of him beyond his control from the unexpected, intense emotion that swept through every fiber of his being, flowing through him like hot, molten lava, searing through his veins, and instantly overwhelming him.
Frodo spit out a gasp and sucked in another and his face twisted and, to Sam’s eyes, he looked as though he was in agony or severe pain, and Sam was taken aback. He didn’t quite know what he’d done or what was happening or if he’d hurt him or what. His mind was hazy. He was muddled and confused by his own intense emotion, by his own overwhelming desire.
And just as he was about to pull back, Frodo quickly reached up, wrapped his arms around Sam’s neck and pulled him down into a tighter embrace. He wanted to say something; to ease the concern he saw in Sam’s eyes again but his throat had constricted and his breath had caught again and it was just… simply impossible.
Sam eased away a bit and looked down into Frodo’s shimmering eyes, “Frodo?”
Frodo blinked several times trying to clear his vision but all he could see was a liquid prism of shadows. He swallowed hard and finally managed to gasp, “Oh, Sam… ngh… IloveyouSa-m,” he panted. “Please… don’t st... oh, don’t stop.”
Sam continued thrusting in and out slowly. But as much as he wanted to take his time watching and feeling his lover writhe in pleasure beneath him, he felt that he would have to arrive at his destination soon or else he thought he would die right here on top of Frodo. He thought his heart would just plain stop. It literally felt to him like a hand had wrapped around it and was squeezing it tight and not letting go. He lifted himself on one elbow and reached in hurriedly between their bodies and grabbed Frodo and began stroking him again firmly, matching his strokes to his own thrusts which had quickened.
Frodo let out a loud moan and his body jerked upwards in response to Sam’s touch and…
Oh, Sam was not going to last like this. He was literally getting dizzy. He spoke breathlessly, “Frodo… I don’t… I don’t think I can… I ca- … I can’t wait.”
Frodo held Sam close to him with trembling arms around his neck and trembling knees squeezing Sam’s hips, his words choked and muffled in Sam’s neck, “Oh…ngh… I’m… me neither, Sam… uhhhhhhhhI’mcomingSam… I’m co… Oh Sa…”
And with that last, their bodies quivering together, Sam gave a few more deep thrusts, his hand pumping in unison, and Frodo clung to him with all his strength - his body shuddering and spasming against Sam’s, convulsing with wave after wave of blinding pleasure - screaming out his release against Sam’s neck and spilling out hot liquid between their sweat-slick bellies and over Sam’s hand again. And this time, Sam went with him, crying out in harmony and shooting out his own release inside his lover.
He didn’t know how it was possible to love Frodo any more than he already did. But somehow watching Frodo and seeing and feeling him caught in the throes of his own release dug so deep into the depths of Sam’s soul, into the very core of his being, releasing that love and making it possible.
He held Frodo in his hand until Frodo was completely spent, both of them clutched tightly together until finally their grips on each other released and their bodies collapsed from exhaustion. They lay there for long moments, completely sated and relaxed, without saying a word. Only the sound of the steady rain and their heavy breathing filled the air.
TBC
Part 4 - Fear Awakening.