The wind brushed over Sam and Frodo's hair as Frodo slept on the ground. Not able to sleep for the ache in his heart, Sam had been gazing longingly at Frodo, with a deep passion that ran through his whole body, causing him to almost shake with desire. The wind awoke him from this trance of love, and he begrudgingly returned to the disturbing thoughts he had been thinking for so long.
No Samwise Gamgee, No! You are a sensible young hobbit, and you are wrong to feel this way!
Hoping to distract him from the pain in his mind, he looked up, fear in his eyes, at the desolate plain of Mordor which lay ahead of him. Cold, bleak, and unloving, Sam could still not understand how anything could live there. The air was black and misty, barely breathable, but he could still make out the faint outline of a mountain. Mount Doom. Just saying that name in his head brought feelings of peril. He could see the smoke pouring out of the top, and feel the molten lava, hot and burning, coming towards him as he sat silently, alone and scared. That evil place, filled to the brim with doom and terror, was he was headed, just him and his master.
Master. That thought turned Sam's gaze back to Frodo, lying asleep. His wonderful Frodo, perfect in every way possible. He looked so peaceful and untroubled as he slept there, his pale, milky white skin glowing in the moonlight. And even though his features were muted by the dark of Mordor, and the distance Sam sat from him, Sam knew he was beautiful. No, not beautiful. Gorgeous, Majestic, Supreme, even Godly! No, even more that that. So much more than that. Words, or actions, could not describe the loveliness of Frodo as he lay there. Sam had seen him asleep many times before on their long journey, but he had never looked so wonderful, the sweet, brave Frodo that Sam loved so dearly.
No! No! The voices of others screamed in Sam's mind.
Sam hugged his knees, wishing they would go away.
No! You cannot love him! You cannot!
"Go!" Sam shouted at the silent taunters, anger building up inside his small hobbit body, "Go, and leave me be!"
At the sound of Sam's yells, or perhaps because he was having another nightmare, Frodo gave a light moan of pain. His hand grasped the ring on its chain, and he began to thrash wildly, his voice straining as he moaned and convulsed in pain. Sam, seeing this, got up, afraid that his master was hurt. He did not know if he could bear to see Frodo hurt again, last time it had nearly destroyed him.
He moved closer to Frodo, and began to stroke his cheek in the hopes of settling him down. For a second Sam felt as if his cheek had been slapped, as his mother used to do when he was bad. He shook it off, and continued to caress Frodo's cold skin.
Sam let his warm, calloused hand slowly slide up Frodo's face, and play in his soft brown curls. Like the rest of his master, the dark ringlets were perfect. Never mind what some said about mud brown color, and uncontrollable curls. Many admired Sam's own golden hair, but Sam knew that his master's hair was the softest and silkiest in all of The Shire, and that was all that mattered.
Frodo's harsh movements had subsided; he now rocked back and forth. His lips mumbled words Sam could not hear, no matter how quiet he became. Sam hoped these were not words of pain, but even if they were there was little he could do to comfort Frodo. Sam's hand moved to his master's brow, and he felt it was covered with a cold, cool sweat. He shuttered to think what horrible things Frodo had been dreaming, what visions had caused his body to shake in such fear? Sam felt an immense urge to take Frodo in his arms, just to hold him and make everything bad go away.
Just as Frodo's body had begun to relax, he began to shiver, causing Sam to look at the rags he wore for clothing, the tattered remains of Sam's own hobbit garments. He remembered when they had been new and fresh, a bright forest green and a musky brown. His mum had made them herself; toiling for hours to make sure they fit and looked just right. As Sam looked down at his own outfit, he knew those days were long gone. The clothes of both of them had become so torn and mutilated that they were nearly naked. It is so cold, he thought, rubbing his own arms; it is a pity Mr.Frodo does not have some proper clothes to keep him warm.
Pity you naughty little hobbit?! Pity! You LIKE it this way, don't you?!!
The taunters were right. Although reluctant to admit, Sam did like, no, love Frodo's clothes this way, because he enjoyed seeing Frodo's body so much. He loved the way his chest rose and fell as he drew breath, the way sweat looked as it cascaded down the muscles of his abdomen, the soft, sandy brown hair sprinkled about his body, and the way he moved when he walked.
Frodo had such a lean body, and at the same time he was delicate and gentle. He had an elvish look to him, with his small, pale body and large blue eyes. His ears always seemed to point just a little more than then the other hobbits too. Sam was sure, had he been taller, Frodo would be counted among their greatest, his beauty immortal.
After months of near starvation, both their bodies, especially Frodo's already small frame, had become thin and gaunt. The rough journey had also left them with many scars, emotionally and physically. Even so, Sam still thought Frodo's body amazing. He longed to explore it, no matter how weak and ravaged it became. As long as it was a part of Frodo, it would be treasured and loved.
Except the ring. The Ring, and all it had done to Frodo, could never be loved or accepted. It had stripped Frodo of so much, almost destroying that sparkle Sam loved, and crushing his spirit. Its evil ate away at the good inside of Frodo, replacing the good inside of Frodo with terror, and love with pain.
"It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing." Boromir had said those words what seemed like such a long time ago, even thought Sam knew it had only been a few weeks. As he repeated those words in his mind, he for the first time realized how true they were. Look what it had done to Boromir, turning him evil in his want for the Ring. This little thing had ruined so many lives, crushed so many dreams, and yet...
...some part of Sam, some part deep inside of him, was glad the Ring had come. This thought ashamed and appalled him, after all the Ring had done. But in all Its evil, It had brought him closer to Frodo then ever before. Sam always loved Frodo's shy smile and deep, fruity laugh, but it had taken this journey to see what Frodo really meant to him. A part of him, no matter how small it may be, was in dept of that Ring. That, more than anything else, scared him to death.
Sam now moved closer to Frodo, and put his master's head in his lap. He did not wish to disturb Frodo, but he needed some kind of comfort. Frodo breathed in and out deeply, as if it had become difficult for him. His breath made small clouds in the frigid air. As Sam watched Frodo's eyelids flutter, he thought about the taunters. They were right, and Sam knew it. He did not want to accept that, but the realization plagued him until he realized he had to, because it was true. Love between two males, two hobbit males, went against everything Sam had ever been taught. A boy grew up, married a nice girl, and they lived happily ever after. Any other way was never mentioned. Never shunned, but never spoken of. It simply did not exist, so it was never talked about. And Sam had a bad feeling that if it was brought up, it would be forbidden.
He would be disowned by his family and forgotten by his friends. The whole of the Shire would hate him, and shun him. The lifestyle Sam was thinking of living was unnatural, and he would be thought of that way. But why? Why! Didn't they understand that love could not be controlled? Love is pure and simple, yet fiery and passionate, but it goes after who it chooses. Love is never-ending and everlasting, outliving everything including time. But who that love is to is never a choice.
Frodo rolled to his side, his hand now resting on Sam's thigh. Even though he was in obvious pain, which frightened Sam, he still looked serenely beautiful. Sam knew that he loved him with all his heart. How could he make the whole world see how he felt, and make them understand? Make them know that his love was not wrong, but right. Because along with knowing the taunters were right, Sam knew he was right too.
The world would always be blind, the whole of Middle-earth would never see. Some would accept it, but precious few would understand. Sam continued to think there, his hand resting on Frodo's, and he had a realization. Even if they would always be blind, Sam had the choice, the chance to see, to embrace love in all its glory and splendor.
"I choose love! I choose to see!" Sam yelled, overwhelmed by his feelings. He began to silently cry, because he knew he must now tell Frodo how he felt about him. His tears mixed with the sweat and dried blood from his face, and slid down his cheek. They fell onto Frodo's face, making small plink sounds. Frodo's eyes began to blink, and then opened to reveal his bright, clear blue eyes. As Sam looked into those pools of blue, the first thing he had loved about Frodo, he began to weep more. How could he tell the possessor of such amazing eyes and such a pure heart how he felt, how his heart ached for a touch, or a kiss, or just to be looked at with those wonderful eyes. Frodo stirred, and then turned his head to face Sam.
"Sam, dear Sam, why are you crying?" Frodo's voice was sweet and sincere, and that only added to the desire inside of him.
"Nuh-no reason Mr.Frodo, no reason," Sam sputtered as he began to cry harder. His tears made lines on the soot on his face, and then splashed onto his chest, and the thin rags he wore.
"Tell me Sam," Frodo said in a gentle voice. "Tell me why you are sad, please; I hate to see you this way." His pleading eyes looked up at Sam, and Sam tried to speak.
"I-I-I'm not sure how t'say this, Mr. Frodo." He finally managed to get out. "Sa-sa-sayin' words in the right way has never come easy to me, if you get my meaning."
"Don't worry Sam. Just let it out, and I will not interrupt you until you are done." While saying this, Frodo gently and silently slipped his small hand into Sam's and gave it a little squeeze, to show him he was there for him. Sam began to speak slowly.
"Mr. Frodo, I've needed t'say this for a long time. Some things, some feelings, just can't be controlled, n-n-no matter how unnatural they may be." Sam's head, which had been hung in shame, rose up to look into Frodo's eyes. Sam continued with his speech, his voice becoming confident.
"Mr.Frodo, I am very much in love with you."
Love! So now its love, is it? How could he want or love you, you little pervert, you Servant you!
Sam ignored the voices, and continued to speak.
"I love the way your eyes are always sparklin', the way your skin glows in the moonlight, and the way you hum as you walk, even when y'are troubled. I love your soft, porcelain cheeks, and your perfect smile. I love your stories, and the way you always seem to make me happy, no matter how depressed I am. Your spirit, and your bravery and courage, I love all of it. I hope that somewhere, deep inside of you, there is some way you can love me too, even if I am a lowly servant from a hut on Bagshot Row and y'are a rich-"
Instantly, Sam was silenced as Frodo took his face in his hands. At first his lips just brushed Sam's; teasing him and making him burn and tingle inside. It was a wonderful feeling, and they both experienced it. Frodo then pressed his lips to Sam's for a long, sweet kiss. Kissing Frodo was like eating strawberries and cream, Sam thought, but the luscious lips pressed against his were sweeter and juicier than any berry. As they kissed, Sam was filled with warmth inside, of happiness and total satisfaction. Frodo had been warmed to, but he gently broke the kiss and looked at a dazed Sam with eyes twinkling.
"Does that answer your question?" Frodo whispered, so that only his true love could hear. He, too had felt love towards his friend, but had not wanted to admit it. He had been afraid of ruining Sam's friendship with him, destroying the only joy in his life. He had loved Sam as long as he could remember when Sam was young and Frodo would watch him in the gardens and play when Sam's work was done. It made him so joyful to know that Sam had loved him too, and loved him now. Frodo leaned in for another kiss, but Sam, catching his breath, got to Frodo first. This kiss was longer, and more passionate, so hot that its flames seemed to burn away the pain gnawing at Sam's heart. The heat destroyed the cold of Mordor, and Sam could only feel the now warm body of Frodo.
Sam, wanting more, increased the pressure, bringing Frodo to the ground in front of him. Sam lay on top of his master, but even in this embrace he was careful not to hurt him. With Sam on top of him, Frodo felt that the time was right. His hands moved to Sam's vest, the only this obscuring his view of the strong, muscular chest. He slowly undid the buttons, his nimble hands working quickly. As Sam continued to kiss, now becoming wildly excited, Frodo pulled the rough cloth off of Sam's defined pectorals and down his rippling biceps, until it reached his strong hands and dropped to the ground.
Sam's bare chest rubbed against Frodo's shirt, creating a painful friction. Frodo made a move to unbutton it, but Sam stopped his hand.
"No Mr. Frodo please let me. I've wanted t'do this for so long." Sam whispered in Frodos ear, his voice smooth and silky. The buttons were undone in a flash, and the kissing resumed, becoming deeper and deeper. The shirt slipped of as Frodo rocked back and fourth. Sam slipped his arms around Frodo, savoring him, and then began to place a rain of small, light kisses down Frodo's neck and onto the firm, ivory skin. Sam planted each one with care, as he would a rose in one of the gardens he loved so dearly. The kisses made a series of soft pitter-patters, like a sun shower in spring, clear and bright.
Sam began to descend down Frodo, and he soon reached the small white scar on his master's shoulder. He began to kiss and suck at it, hoping to draw out the pain and suffering it had brought to both of them. Frodo winced, his body becoming tense and stiff in Sam's arms. He moaned again, but this time it was much louder, and not in happiness but in agony. The moment Sam had touched the wound, all its hurt and sadness had returned, flooding Frodo's mind with terror. His teeth clenched as pain shot through his body.
"Mr. Frodo!" Sam yelled in worry, pulling away. "Have I harmed you? I'm so sorry!" Sam had stopped his kissing, and was now holding Frodo's hand, his brow creased in worry. His brown eyes were filled with fear and shame. A fresh tear slid down his face, he could never bear the thought of hurting his master.
"No Sam," said Frodo, his face relaxing as he stroked Sam's bare chest. "Keep going. I need you, now more than ever." Sam resumed his quiet kissing, and as he did Frodo murmured softly. "It is wonderful, you, my precious Sam, are wonderful."
Sam once again came to the scar from Weathertop, and gave it a slow kiss. Frodo felt the pain seethe inside of him, bubbling and frothing. It tore at his heart, much like the Ring, and Frodo twisted and almost cried out for the burn he felt. It was horrible, and almost made him end the embrace. But as he thought of the gorgeous hobbit with golden curls that kissed so sweetly, his pain disappeared completely.
Sam, his Sam had been there. He had laid there for all those days he was ill, unconscious, and practically dead. Forgetting to eat, which was rare for a hobbit, forgetting to even sleep, Sam had held his cold, lifeless hand and prayed that he would be well. He had never flagged in his devotion, and what little hope he had left had remained strong. And when he did finally awake, Sam had been there, overcome with joy, literally weeping.
Later that day, while he was talking to Gandalf, he was told how Sam had tended to him for all those days, ignoring others insistence to eat, sleep or relax for a moment. This touched Frodo's heart that someone cared so much about him. No one had ever made him feel so loved, save maybe Bilbo. Even after he had recovered, Sam still fussed about him, and made him smile, even laugh, making him happy for the short while they were in Rivendell. He had never left his side, even if it meant entering the gates of Mordor and walking into certain death. Frodo had always loved Sam, from the first day they became friends. No matter how unnatural it may be he wanted to be with him for the rest of his
days, even if he only had a few more.
Sam had now reached Frodo's waist, and he placed his hands on the sunken belly. He began to lick the soft nipples, his tongue teasing the skin around them. They soon became stiff, and Sam began to suck them slowly. Even in this most intimate of moments, Sam noticed that he could feel Frodo's ribs much to well under his skin. He brought his head to rest on Frodo's stomach, which was almost nonexistent. The younger hobbit lifted his hand and ran it down the others side, knobby bones jutting out.
Sam lifted his head and gazed at Frodo's thin face, and saw eyes closed in pure bliss. He had noticed how gaunt it had become, how the hollows in the cheeks had grown larger as days went by. It was still as lovely as ever, but so much thinner then it should be. The Gaffer had always said that a fat hobbit was a happy and healthy hobbit, but the master Sam was stroking was most certainly not. Sam stroked his love's ribs again, and unable to control himself, he cried out.
"Mr.Frodo, y'should not be so thin!" Sam gasped, in what seemed like anger. "No hobbit, or anyone else for that matter, should have to go through what y'are, but this lack of food is just wrong!"
"I know Sam, I know. No hobbit should have to suffer like this, especially one as noble and unselfish as you."
At first Sam did not understand what Frodo was saying, but as the smaller hobbit caressed Sam's well built chest, he understood. Even under all the muscles his ribs could be felt, and the skin that stretched across his empty belly. Sam had not noticed, or had tried to ignore, how thin he had become. He had instead focused on Frodo's condition, letting him have most of the food while he went without. Sam had always put others before himself, sacrificing his own pleasure to give it to others. Frodo leaned in for another kiss, and they resumed their embrace. Sam was now making soft moans, signs of his enjoyment. Frodo was so glad he could now please Sam who had helped him for so long.
They continued, and Sam's back edged up against a rock, until he was sitting against it. Frodo slipped into his arms, and nuzzled his head on Sam's chest, close to his heart. As Frodo lay there, listening to the rhythmic thump-thump of their hearts, beating together, he smiled. Sam smiled too, and he began to massage Frodo's shoulders, and give him soft, rosebud kisses down his back.
Frodo knew that Sam's hands were tough and calloused, the hands of a worker, but they did not feel that way. They were nothing like his small, weak hands, but that made him love them all the more. Those hands had grown gardens of splendor, especially his own at Bag End. They had nursed him back to health so many times, and picked him up when he fell down. How could he not, like the rest of Sam, love them unconditionally?
Sam continued to massage, his large hands rubbing the knots in Frodo's back. The pain that had built up there as they traveled melted away as Sam worked his back lovingly. When all the tenseness in Frodo's back was gone, Sam slid his arms around Frodo and began to finger his nipples, stroking them softly. Feeling content, Frodo let his small body hug closer to the larger hobbit.
"Sam," Frodo said, placing sugar coated kisses on the arm that held him. "I love
you so very much."
Feeling Frodo"s tongue slip between his and lick his arm, Sam was greatly aroused, but he just replied "Mr. Frodo, I love you too."
"Sam, why must you call me Mr. Frodo?" A large sigh escaped the speaking hobbit. "We have always been equals, now more than ever."
"I don't rightly know Mr.-no, just Frodo." Sam blushed as he said Frodo's name. "A bad habit ya' might call it."
"Now, now Sam." laughed Frodo, his eyes shining. "Only naughty little hobbits have bad habits!" Frodo chuckled at his little joke, and when he did not hear Sam do the same, he looked up at his face. Frodo let out a yelp of horror, and jumped back. Sam's eyes had gone bloodshot, and they were fixed straight ahead. He had begun to shake, and cold sweat dripped out from beneath his golden curls. His lips were frozen shut, his whole face glazed with horror.
Yes Sam, You know it's true!
The voices screamed inside Sam's head.
You and the little one! You are a bad, dirty, naughty little hobbit!
"Sam! Sam!" Frodo yelled in terror, trying to shake Sam out of his trance. "What did I say? Oh Sam, you must be okay, I cannot finish this quest without you!" As tears began to roll down Frodo's cheeks, Sam's eyes closed, and he turned his now unfrozen face towards Frodo's. He opened his large brown eyes, and seeing Frodo's tears he wiped them away. No sooner had he done that, tears welled up in his own eyes, and he started too.
"I told ya' not ta cry," Sam chuckled weakly, stroking Frodo's face. "'Cause you'll get me started."
"What was that Sam? Are you all right?" Frodo struggled to hold back tears; he had to be strong for his Sam.
"Just hold me Mr. Frodo." Sam's voice sounded scared, like he had seen evil. "Don't ever let me go." With that, Frodo crawled up close against Sam, and pressed his wet cheek on the others shoulder. Sam held Frodo tightly in his arms, trying to banish the pain.
As Sam sat there, his fingers stroked Frodo's bare chest. He began to massage his pectorals, but was sure to avoid the Ring hanging around his master's neck. He was sure, if the Ring was touched it would wake and anger Frodo, and he did not want to do that. Not anger him, really, but anger the greedy creature that replaced him anytime the Ring was touched, or mentioned by someone else. Sam shuddered as he remembered the day he learned this.
He could not recall how long ago it had been, the days just seemed to run together in to one horrible nightmare. Frodo and he had been walking for most of the night, and rest was hours away. Gollum, curse him, had refused to stop for rest, or even a break for food. Frodo had been growing noticeably weaker, and Sam was sure that the ring, not just the lack of food and rest, contributed to that greatly. As they were trudging along, Sam saw how tired and pained Frodo was. He hated to see him this way, and he would try anything to stall Frodo's pain, even if it was only for a little while.
"Mr. Frodo," he had said in a caring voice, "begging your pardon sir, but you seem t'be tired and beat. I know the burden you carry is heavy, and if you wish, I am more'n willing to bear it until your strength is back."
As he said this, a dark cloud had come over Frodo's face, and he had begun to twitch, and his hand had clasped the ring. His eyes gleamed with an evil Sam was sure was not Frodo.
"No, it is mine! You cannot have it, you common thief!" Sam then felt a hand slap him, one to strong and large to be Frodo's. It knocked him to the ground, and he began to cry, fearing what had possessed his master, or that he had done something wrong. He looked up at Frodo, and saw that the evil glint in his eyes was gone, replaced by sobbing tears of guilt and pain.
"Sam!" he had cried, running over to help him up from the ground. "I hate this Ring, and the terrible things it makes me do!" he sobbed out, his hands over his face. "I never wanted to hurt you."
In that moment, Sam had realized what the Ring was doing to Frodo. Consuming him slowly, not obviously, but eating away at all that was good inside of him. He never wanted Frodo to become like that, evil and spiteful. His only hope was that the ring was destroyed before there was nothing more than an empty shell of the Hobbit he loved.
The night began to grow darker, and the nasty chill in the air returned. Frodo began to shiver, and Sam pulled him closer to his own warm body. His master's skin was like ice, and his small lips showed a hint of blue. He looked so cold that Sam knew he needed to clothe him. He fumbled for his vest, Frodo's shirt, or the blanket, anything to keep Frodo warm.
After searching for a few minutes, Sam's fingers found his vest. He lifted Frodo from his chest, and slipped the vest around the older hobbit's thin shoulders, carefully so he would not wake. He let Frodo's slim body back down on to his breast, and returned his arms to their proper place, holding Frodo and shielding him from harm.
Sam's finger brushed Frodo's lips as he went to stroke the dark curls, and they felt so cold to Sam. He looked at them adoringly, but also with worry. They were so gorgeous that way, frozen in time, so perfectly shaped that Sam hated to touch them. But he could not resist those lips; he had never been able to. They almost longed to be kissed, to be loved, much like the hobbit they belonged to.
Preparing to kiss, Sam took the small face in his hand, and brushed the curls back from Frodo's closed eyes. The lids were ivory white, thanks to the cold air around them. How Sam loved those eyes, now covered by frosty lids. They showed everything he loved about Frodo. The eyes were kind, sweet, and gentle, yet mischievous at times, and his love was the same. Sometimes he wished Frodo never slept, so he could look into those eyes all the time.
Sam pressed his lips lightly to Frodo's, and began to kiss him. Warmth instantly flooded the lips, and when he felt the kiss being returned he increased the pressure. His partner increased too, and Sam felt a tongue slip into his mouth, unguarded. It was welcomed with a few flicks of his own, and then his whole tongue slid into his love's rosebud mouth. He groaned deep in his throat, and tipped his head back. Frodo leaned up against him, kissing him harder and harder.
As the two hobbits moved closer, Frodo's vest fell off, unnoticed. Sam's hands drifted to Frodo's waist, and then his thigh. Sam stroked it softly, slipping into the dizzy spell of love. Their bodies intertwined, and Sam realized he wanted to make love to Frodo. He wasn't sure how, but Sam wanted to do it. This act meant so much, to give the ultimate declaration of love. To show how much he really cared, how powerful his feelings were. To show that he would always love Frodo, come what may. Frodo had been like a forbidden toy, to be looked at but never played with or enjoyed. But now that Sam had the chance, all he wanted to do was play.
Frodo's head moved down, and he began to kiss Sam's neck, his tongue flickering like a snake's would. After burying his face in the soft ringlets for a few minutes, Sam began to lick Frodo's ear gently, suckling the tip in his mouth.
"I want to love you, more than I ever have." He proclaimed, so only his Frodo could hear.
Frodo understood, and his small hands moved down Sam's waist, and he began undoing his breeches. The unbuttoning was drawn out, with Frodo stopping in between every button for a kiss. And as Sam could hear Frodo breathing heavily against him, the prolonged undressing only served to arouse him more. As Frodo undid the last button, Sam could feel the blood rush to his member, making it stiff and erect. His breeches slid to his feet, revealing him. It was delicious, large and swollen, Frodo thought, with a sculpted shape and smooth, even skin.
Sam, now naked, nudged Frodo to the ground. Sam brought his head down, and he began to suck Frodo's bellybutton. His hands rubbed Frodo's nipples, pulsating back and fourth until they were stiff and hard. As his steady hands moved down to pull of Frodo's breeches, Frodo hesitated, and then let him continue. He undid the buttons in one stroke, and then removed the breeches.
Frodo was already hard, and as Sam pressed his hand to Frodo, the older hobbit began to make soft noises of pleasure. Frodo was little and delicate, nothing like him, Sam thought. It was perfect, a rival to Frodo's deep blue eyes. It was slightly small, as Frodo was, but still wonderful in Sam's eyes.
Mistaking the awe on Sam's face for shock, Frodo stopped kissing and looked up at Sam's face.
"Sam, I know compared to yours it's not...I'm not..." His voice trailed off, ashamed.
"No Mr. Frodo!" Sam gasped, trying to contain the urges he felt. "It is glorious, as you are."
Sam placed a small kiss on Frodo's cheek, and then moved down to claim his prize. His tongue slid slowly down Frodo's front to his groin.
Sam pressed a light kiss to the head, and began to suck it lightly. It was very cold, but soft and inviting at the same time. His hands stroked, and then rubbed Frodo's hips, causing the hobbit to shake and moan. His pelvis began to buck, and he took Sam's hair in his hands, stroking and grasping it.
Sam took Frodo in his mouth, running his tongue up and down him. Frodo began to make soft, unintelligible noises of pleasure, almost astonished that all his dreams were coming true. He could not believe this was happening, yet here he was. He could have cried for joy as Sam dragged his tongue around the shaft, circling it. The latter could feel Frodo's body throb as he began to stiffen and his back arch as the noises became moans.
His body locked into position, Frodo let go fast and painlessly into Sam's waiting mouth, clawing at Sam's back as he screamed Sam's name. The younger hobbit savored it, surprised at its sweetness. It was much like, if not better then, kissing Frodo's lips.
Sweet, yet hot and spicy. Sam let it glide down his throat, warming his entire being. In a sort of trance, he looked down at Frodo, the sweetness still lingering in his throat. The taste made Sam hungry, but not for any type of food. The only thing he wanted now was Frodo.
Frodo was lying on the ground, his body glimmering with perspiration and tears of joy. He wore a small smile on his sweaty, dirt streaked face. He leaned up, and brought Sam's face to his and began to kiss the plump lips, now salty with sweat. Sam returned the kiss, but this time neither closed their eyes, as if one could not bear to be without the other. After awhile, their kiss broke, and they moved back to the hard ground.
Frodo's tongue carefully moved up Sam's cheek, licking the moisture as it drifted past. Frodo, as Sam had done, began to softly suckle on his love's ear. Sam's arousal began to strain, and he felt his pulse quicken. Frodo let the tip of his tongue caress it as well, lingering for a moment before he spoke.
"Sam, my love" he murmured, in a trance much like that of Sam. "I want you to be inside of me, I want to be one with you." Frodo moved his head down to Sam's chest, letting him ponder what Frodo had said for a minute. But as he felt a wet mouth licking and kissing his nipple, he was sure. This was what he had wanted, to be a part of Frodo, inside of him, showing his love.
Not sure what to do, Sam brought Frodo to the ground, and lay on top of him, putting his weight on his two arms, so he would not crush the small hobbit beneath him. Frodo caught the bewildered expression on Sam's face, and reassured him.
"Sam, I trust you. I'm not sure what to do either, but I trust you with all my heart."
Sam gently spread Frodo's thighs with his knee, and entered him slightly. Frodo let out a gasp, and then a piercing scream of pain as Sam pushed in more.
"It hurts Sam, please, it hurts." Frodo moaned, and then clenched his teeth, trying to dull the pain as his head pressed against Sam's chest.
Sam froze in horror, and began to pull out, terrified that he had hurt Frodo.
"No, Sam, I don't care." Frodo gasped, kissing Sam on the cheek. "I don't care if it hurts, I want you, please, I need you Sam."
Frodo's body relaxed and Sam entered him all the way. He began to thrust inside of him in a rhythmic motion, his hands pressed on Frodo's hips. Frodo's pain was soon exchanged for pure pleasure and love. Sam's thrusts became more powerful, and the friction between them deceased. Sam then let out a loud moan, and let go into Frodo, his face contorted in orgasm. His fluid warmed Frodo deep inside, the cold of Mordor now forgotten. They began to kiss passionately, and dissolved into the depths of love. Soon Frodo's eyes closed and he fell back, all his energy gone. Sam caught him, and laid him on the ground.
"Good night, sweet Master." He said, and lay down to sleep next to him, forgetting the dangers of Mordor, and holding the limp form tight.
Sometime later in the night, Sam began to toss and turn as the voices
It's Wrong! Your love is wrong! You are forbidden, and you are WRONG!
screamed in his head. They woke him up, screaming with pain, and he realized he had rolled away form Frodo. How he wished he could hold his love now, to comfort him, but he did not want Frodo to feel the pain he was going through. The voices tormented him, and he would not wish their pain on anyone, especially Frodo. Sam laid down, and cast himself into sleep, trusting for luck, and praying for better dreams.
"Frodo!" Sam's voice pierced the cold, crisp air. Hearing his name, Frodo woke with a start. It was dark, but probably near morning, if there is such a thing in Mordor. Frodo groped for the strong body he had fallen asleep with, but not finding Sam with his hands, he followed his voice.
After wandering aimlessly in the dark for a few minutes, Frodo located Sam, asleep a few footsteps away. From what Frodo could see in the dark, Sam twitched and turned as he lay sleeping. Frodo began to stroke Sam's brow, wondering why he had called his name. Frodo was startled when Sam began to yell. It was very loud, but obviously part of a dream, as Sam had yet to wake.
"No, NO!" Sam cried in his sleep, his voice pained. "I am not wrong, our love is not wrong! You are wrong!" then there was a silence. Frodo waited, fearing for his beloved Sam.
"I love him!" Sam cried, his voice becoming strained. "I don't care if our love is wrong, or forbidden, because I love him...I always will!" with that, Sam was silent. Frodo began to cry, and he held Sam close. He does not deserve such suffering, thought Frodo, and I do not deserve him if I inflict it.
"It's my entire fault Sam, I am to blame. I am the reason you are ever in this horrid place. I wish the Ring had never come to me or that you had never..." No, Frodo thought, not that. "I need you Sam, more then you could ever know. You are the only thing that has kept me alive, and you, only you, are the only reason I will complete this quest. You have been a shoulder to lean on, a bright light when all others have gone out. Do you know that Sam?"
After those last words were said, Sam began to stir. He felt Frodo cradling him and sobbing into his curls. Sam wondered why he was crying, and why he had come over to where he was sleeping. He could only hope the reason was not because he had been crying out in his sleep. That would trouble his master greatly, and Frodo already had enough pain in his mind. Sam felt cold tears on his face, and he wanted so much to comfort Frodo. Sam opened his eyes slowly, as to not alarm the hobbit he cared for so deeply.
In seeing Sam awake, Frodo tried in vain to wipe the tears from his eyes. It was pointless, however, for Sam saw a fresh tear squeeze out. It ran down Frodo's soft cheekbone, and glided past his small, plump lips. The tear landed with a small plink on Sam's bare chest.
"What have I done?" Frodo choked out, tears still falling from his glistening eyes. "What have I done to you? I saw you asleep, in so much pain, all because of me. I-I can't bear the knowledge that I've hurt you." Frodo's tears began to multiply, and Sam reached for his master's face and wiped the tears away.
"Frodo," he said soothingly, trying to calm him. "Y'could never hurt me, or cause me pain of any kind. Only hate can do that, and you are pure love." With that, Sam took Frodo in his arms and began to kiss away the tears. Frodo, glad to be in Sam's arms again, let him for a few minutes. He then let Sam's face rest on his palms as he looked straight into Sam's eyes.
"What was that dream? What was that horrible thing you saw before? Please Sam, I need to know." Frodo's eyes kept a steady hold on Sam's, and he knew that he had to tell Frodo about the voices. He could not deny his love this knowledge.
"I-It's not really what I see, but what I hear, if y'take my meaning." Sam's voice was quiet, but it grew more confident as he continued.
"The voices. Not voices really, more like the bad side of my conscience, or mayhap it's me old Gaffer scolding me again. They say what we're doin' is wrong, that we are wrong, that us lovin' the way we do is wrong. And it's not, Mr. Frodo, it's not!" His voice grew louder, but he did not shout. "I will always love you, but it will never be wrong."
Frodo took Sam's tearstained face and pressed it to his own. As they kissed, their tears mixed together and flowed down their naked chests. Sam's were salty and hot, Frodo's as cold as ice, but when they mixed a perfect warmth was created. By the time the kiss ebbed, all their tears were gone, wiped away by the others love. Sam's head rested on Frodo's breast, and Frodo whispered to him soothingly.
"Sam, my Sam. I am your Frodo, just Frodo, and nothing else. Our love will never be wrong, no matter what those voices, our other hobbits say. I will always love you too." Frodo stroked Sam's dirty, weather beaten face, his spindly fingers massaging the younger's temples. Sam tried to speak, but a new tear ran down his face. Frodo stopped it with his small hand, and wiped it away, cleaning the soot as he did so.
"No more tears, love." Frodo took Sam's hand in his, just as he had done the last time Sam had something important to say. "Just talk and I will listen."
Sam cleared his throat, and held back the tears straining at his lids. "They said...well; they said many a thing, insultin you an' me both. I don' think that part needs t'be remembered, 'cause I am in no mood ta' tell it. But they also said...They told me that no one would understand, that they would think us lovin like we do...unnatural."
Sam sputtered on that last word, but eventually spit it out. What a horrible word it was, their love was nothing like that. Sam never wanted that to be thought about them. "They would forbid it, an' we would have t'stop, an' I never want to, never Frodo. I love you so much, an' I could never abandon you or leave you, no matter how hard I might try."
"We could run away, I was thinking, but where would we go? The voices said no one would let us, no one! An' I don' want t'believe them, I really don't, but I got this bad feelin that they're right. Who would accept us?"
Sam squeezed Frodo hand, and then let his head rest on Frodo's cold, thin chest gently, as his master was weak.
"I know Sam, I know." Frodo held Sam tightly, hoping to shield him from the frigid breeze that danced through and around their bodies. Maybe not just shield him from the cold, Frodo though. He wished he could hold back the world, the unaccepting world, and protect Sam from that too.
"There are not many people that will understand us. But I will never leave you because of any of them. But on where we would go..." Frodo's voice trailed off, and he began to speak softy as he trembled. "I fear this quest will claim my life. I do not wish to die, now that I have you, but I greatly fear I will."
Frodo's breath became shallow, and he had to take larger breaths to satisfy himself. Sam could feel the rise and fall of his master's chest as he looked up at Frodo's face. He was worn and weary, yet stern and determined. Sam always knew Frodo was willing to die for this quest, and for the good of Middle Earth, but he never knew how afraid Frodo was. He was scared to death of this quest, of what it would do to him and the ones he loved. Frodo's eyes, which Sam loved so bright and blue and sparkling, were now dulled and grey as Frodo thought of the doom that awaited him. Sam carefully slid his arm around Frodo, and spoke to him soothingly, but with a serious tone.
"Frodo, I plan t'spend the rest of my days with you, living or dead. But I don't plan the living ones on ending so soon. You must keep hope that you will make it through, or else your thoughts may yet become realty." Sam saw a flash of pain in his love's eyes, and then he heard his sweet voice speak.
"I know I must have hope, but it is so hard to think hopeful thoughts with this..." Frodo's hands flew to the Ring at his neck, and he began to tug and pull at the chain. He looked as if he wanted to break it, or at least try to. His hands were weak, but he yanked at the chain like it held his life and Sam's in its grasp.
Sam pulled away from Frodo, and then took his hand and pulled it away from the necklace. He clasped the small hand between his own strong ones.
"I hate this accursed Ring! I hate what it has done to me, what it has made me. I wish it were gone, or that it had never received it. Sam..." Frodo's free hand brushed Sam's forehead, and glided slowly down his face. Frodo repeated this motion a few times, and then brought his head to rest on Sam's pulsing heart.
"Sam, when you offered to bear the Ring a few weeks ago, the demon it instilled in me jumped at you. It slapped you and hurt you in a way I never would. But I, your Frodo, also did not want you to have the Ring, even for a few minutes. Inside, I knew you only wanted to help me, to relive my pain for a little while. You, my perfect Sam, had never dreamed of hurting me, only of helping me.
"However, I also knew all too well how the Ring had torn at my insides, making me evil and almost hollow. I never wanted you to experience that. You are too pure and wonderful to be totally destroyed by the Ring, but I did not want, and do not want you to have it for even a moment. It would tarnish the soul I love, and have always loved, so dearly."
Sam's hold broke, and he let his love's hand rest on his knee. Sam slid his hands onto Frodo, and placed them on the skin above the warm, beating heart. He held them there for a moment, his gaze fixed on Frodo. His head bent, and he pressed his lips to master's heart, and kissed it softly. He wanted to heal, end, or even destroy all the hurt that lay there, burning and festering from deep inside. Draw out all evil with a simple touch, and all his love.
Frodo kissed Sam's golden head of curls, and they lay down together. Frodo snuggled in the hollow of Sam's body, and they held each other close. The darkness of Mordor seemed to slowly melt away, and the wind become warm as Sam lay there, happier than he had ever been before. The voices were silent, and somehow Sam knew he would never hear them again. They, like the past pains they had shared, were gone forever.
"Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked in a whisper, as his face was pressed so near to his love's.
"Yes, my Sam?" Frodo's breath was warm on Sam's face as he answered, and that lifted Sam's heart.
"Mr. Frodo, I never really wanted the Ring." Sam's voice steadied and he managed
to get the rest out before he became lost in Frodo's eyes.
"All I ever wanted was you."