Chapter Text
Merry sat at the table trying to decipher which of the two (as Sam's Gaffer would say) was: "the biggest ninnyhammer." From where Merry sat eating first breakfast, both were insufferable fools. The moment Frodo looked up; Sam looked down. The instant Sam looked up; Frodo looked down. It was making Merry dizzy. He felt like flailing his arms in the air and blurting out, "By Eru, what are you two waiting for?! Rip off each others clothes and go at it like rabbits!"
Merry rubbed his chin. Part of him knew this 'hide-n-seek' game Frodo and Sam were engaged in was his fault. Merry had playfully asked Frodo if he'd 'like to join them again' and 'explore each other bit further...' After bashful stammering, Frodo confessed to Merry he enjoyed the watching and Pippin's umm-- ministering. However, Frodo made it clear that the night of their drunken debauchery was a mistake. Frodo haltingly explained what kept him from coming back to bed with Merry and Pip was Sam. Merry knew Frodo's answer before he even asked. Merry supposed, in some perverse way, he delighted in the Frodo who stuttered and blushed-- this forced far in his mind the Frodo who floundered and wavered on the Edge of Middle Earth that night at the Green Dragon.
The past two weeks Merry watched the two do this same dance-- circling and swirling a league apart. While watching Frodo's love life was diverting, Merry had decided this was enough. Merry was certain now that Frodo would never vocalize his secret desire to bed his handsome gardener. Merry was convinced Sam must take the first step. As much as Merry would like to be witness to the big moment, Merry knew Sam probably won't make a move with he and Pip at Bag End-- unless Sam thought some one else might seduce his Mr. Frodo again.
Merry blinked. Would Sam ever stop drilling Merry and Pippin with disgusted looks? Merry had to laugh to himself. Aye, that night forced old Sam to face of few truths-- dirty sheets can be a real eye opener. Merry shot Sam a smile back, and Sam stared back, grinding his teeth. Merry was sure if his last name were Boffin or Cotton instead of Brandybuck, Sam would be pounding the sand out of him right now. No, he wasn't worried about Frodo anymore. Merry chuckled. What Sam needed was to vent some of his anger constructively-- like in bed with Mr. Frodo.
Merry looked over at Pip. Pippin was positively glowing. At first he'd been concerned the tryst might harm their relationship, but sharing a bed with Frodo didn't bruise them-- instead the experience inspired some of the best nights of love making between them Merry could remember. He closed his eyes and hummed. Hum--isn't that what Pippin did last night with his gracious mouth around his...
"...don't you think so Merry?" Pip asked.
"What?"
"I think we need to get back to Brandy Hall," Peregrin said. 'Well,' thought Merry, 'Pippin's noticed the problem, too.'
"So, soon?" asked Frodo absently, working to avoid Sam's eyes. "I seems you just got here."
"If you really want us to stay longer," Pippin answered, "we will Frodo. I never did tell your fortune. I have the cards right here. Would you like me to now?" Pippin pulled the cards out. Merry noticed Sam's expression, and it was none too pleased.
"I don't know as I should," Frodo said haltingly, looking over in Sam's direction.
"Well, I will if you're curious," Pippin said, "just let me know. We can stay longer. No rush to get back. We haven't had enough together time, don't you think we should have some more together time Merry?"
Merry wasn't quite sure what effect Pip was trying to exact with that comment. Both Sam's and Frodo's cheeks turned hot-- but for different reasons altogether. The past few days it was all Merry could do to keep Pippin from trying to seduce poor Frodo. Most of it though, was for Sam's benefit. Merry had to admit-- Pippin's flirtatiousness was working on Sam. However, Pippin's attentions was also having an effect on him. Although watching Frodo blush clear down to his fingers tips was intoxicating, the temptation was far too great to resist. Remembering Frodo, flushed on the bed with Pippin was getting Merry hot. He looked at Sam, and Sam was looking right into him. Almost like he knew exactly what Merry was thinking. They better return home. Soon. Gentry or no, Sam might kill them both.
Merry decided then it was best to pack and leave. But no need to rush-- first one more biscuit with honey.
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Sam was never so happy to see anyone leave as Masters Merry and Pippin that evening.
No, he wasn't going to miss cleaning up after the two-- took most of his time with no time left for the garden. No, Sam hadn't been so happy to see any one leave since the Sackville-Baggins left after Bilbo's party. Keeping a close eye on Mr. Frodo had been tricky. With that pesky Peregrin Took looking at Mr. Frodo like he was blueberry pie, Sam spent most of his time making sure his master didn't get too comfortable with his cousins.
Sam studied Mr. Frodo, who stood looking after their tram swaying to and fro slowly passing over the hill. Mr. Frodo's shoulders sagged and face dropped-- Samwise thought that Mr. Frodo's heart was passin' o'er that hill besides.
They were alone again together.
Sam sighed. He knew what Mr. Frodo was thinking. Over the last days, Samwise had done a load of searching inside himself. Sometimes life needs to yield and hold-- like stopping to see new shoots unfold from old apple trees-- most don't see the sprouts unless they take a pause. Unless a hobbit tarries awhile, what they're looking at won't get a notice-- there'll be no distinguishing between frost nipped buds from the chaste ones. This week forced Samwise to pause. As much as he was glad to see Merry and Pippin going off, he could thank them for making one, Samwise Gamgee, pause and notice.
Over the week, Sam learned many a thing about himself and his Mr. Frodo. First off, the import of simple words twixt them. It weren't just talking. Sam now knew he was missing what the talking meant. All them words' absence this last week, left a hollow spot inside Sam. He never stopped to realize just how much he did tell in his master, and how much his master did tell him-- about hopes and dreams. About life. Samwise would confide all the secrets and promises he made to himself-- promises and wishes he kept from the world-- all these he told his Mr. Frodo. This intimacy was returned-- words only reserved for Samwise. All spoken but for the one dearest wish and promise from Mr. Frodo. Words he did not say for fear of Sam's answer. It broke Sam's heart to know that one word was left unspoken.
Sam never reflected on what this confidence portended. Not until this very week did he comprehend the simple answer-- what is one individual to another, an individual who knows what is inside the deepest margin of the other's heart? Sam could name it now.
What Mr. Frodo had become to him had happened gradually. That Mr. Frodo recognized it for what it was didn't surprise Samwise. His fool self wasn't looking for such things.
All this week living with out speaking to Mr. Frodo, Sam felt alone.
Sam shook himself hoping he could stir up the mettle to tell Mr. Frodo how he felt. Trouble was Sam had no mind o' what to say: "Ah, excuse me Mr. Frodo, sir. If you don't mind me asking? I keep having these dreams about you, and I was wondering-- could we maybe see how these work in real life? You can start by taking off that fancy weskit and laying yourself down."
Aye, straight forward like, maybe that was the approach to take. He thought of seducing him, but Sam didn't see himself as seductive no how. Maybe if he just kissed Mr. Frodo. Just a friendly like kiss. On the lips maybe. Or the back of the neck.
The last few days Sam had tried some subtle approaches. He let his hand linger over the top of Frodo's when handing him his tea. Frodo jerked his hand away spilling the hot tea all over the table. Seemed every time he got close to Mr. Frodo, his master reacted like a skittish colt.
Subtle hadn't worked. Maybe climbing into bed with Mr. Frodo, like in Sam's dreams would work. Slip into bed next to Mr. Frodo with naught on-- that had possibilities. Never mind, a friendly like kiss. Aye, mayhap a not so friendly like kiss-- traveling down to other parts of Mr. Frodo's body. Just thinking of it made him blush and aroused. Although one particularly splendid dream had Mr. Frodo with naught on crawling into bed with Sam-- the one dream that was so real. That wasn't likely to happen.
Then there was the Gaffer's disapproval towering in the back of Sam's mind. Over the last days Sam resolve broke. He could no longer ignore the way he felt about Mr. Frodo, no how-- Gaffer or no. He loved his da, but he loved Mr. Frodo, too. Since that day Master Peregrin told Samwise's fortune, Sam's heart was a mess-- he was feelin' like some silly lovelorn lass. Every moment of his day was filled with want.
Sam looked over to Mr. Frodo standing at the gate and stepped beside him. His master feeling the same way but fearing to reach out, didn't make it any easier. So he did what Frodo could not; Sam put his hand on top of his master's and looked into his eyes.
"Sam," his master hesitated, closing his eyes. "I've not been fair to you at all. Seems I've thought mostly of myself-- not what cost my personal feelings have upon you. You deserve more than what I could ever give."
"Mr. Frodo, pardon me," interrupted Sam, " but don't you think I know what you can give?"
"I know very well what I can give-- what I'd like to give," Frodo's eyes fell to both of their hands, resting together on top of the gate. "It is what I can not give to you that makes this all so impossible. A home with a family. I can't take that from you. I won't take that from you. If you please, Sam, let us not talk of this ever again." Sam felt his master's hand slip out from under his. He watched as Mr. Frodo turned and walked back into Bag End.
Sam stood at the gate for some time. He watched as the sun dipped down past the crest of the farthest hill. The grass on the hill turned a dark purple and the sky shades of red and gold. He best be going in to Bag End to straighten the kitchen.
As he picked up the dishes from dinner, he noticed Master Peregrin's fortune cards left upon the table. Sam sat turning the cards over one by one. This was what started this whole mess. Sam knew he could not go back and forget all that he'd come to realize now-- one too many of the cards had been turned over.
He was about to put them all away when his eyes noticed one card in particular. Beautifully illustrated with ivy and gold on its borders, it was of two elves-- one knave taller with reddish hair stood behind the other fair haired elve. His arm encircled the other's waist and his mouth pressed against the other's ear. Sam imagined, whispering some words of love. The fair elve's eyes were closed and lips slightly parted. Sam picked all the cards up, all but the one, and shuffled the rest. He set them face down into a neat pile, placing the one card left in his hand face down on top. He got up to leave. He stopped. His hand still above the cards deciding, deciding. No, subtle wasn't working. Then he flipped over the top card and left it facing up.
The kitchen could wait 'til morning. It was past time to go home.
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Pulling his hand away from Sam's was the hardest. He wanted just to let it rest on his awhile longer, feeling the comfort of his touch. Maybe Sam did love him the same way he loved Sam, but Sam was still young. He wanted a family with lots of little ones-- he told Frodo his wish so many times-- of a hill and a large family filled with laughter and noise. What could Frodo Baggins offer? No family, instead a stuffy solitary old hobbit who day after day deciphers Quenya or Sindarin.
Frodo went to make himself some tea before bed-- a pleasure Sam usually saw to or was it a pleasure because Sam saw to it? Frodo knew it was the latter. Still, 'old habits die hard' thought Frodo with Sam's voice popping into his head 'at least that's what the Gaffer always says.'
He put the kettle on the stove and stoked it up a bit, adding a small log to the fire that Sam had started before he left.
Frodo pulled up the chair and sat down, chewing on one of his cuticles. The log fell, and Frodo jumped. He was never much good at tending the stove's fire. Never had to with Bilbo or Sam around.
Then he noticed the card. The dishes were cleared from dinner. He knew Sam had to have seen the card-- if not left it as a message to Frodo. Did Sam know about the other night? Was he awake? The card was erotic-- no wonder the deck had such an appeal for Pippin. No mistaking, the two were lovers in a sweet embrace. Frodo placed his hand flat to the table, spreading out his fingers-- his eyes resting on his index finger. He wished he never put on the ring. Never knew what it was like to feel Sam's embrace.
Frodo had wondered many times over the last week and had come to the conclusion that Samwise knew something happened. Just not what.
He got up and poured his tea and started for his room with cup in hand. Might as well have something hot in the bedroom, Frodo thought. He really should stop feeling all this self pity. He turned into Bilbo's study to get a book of elvish verses he'd had a mind to translate.
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The smell of musty manuscript woke Frodo. At least that was what he first thought as his eyes opened, trying to adjust to his darkened room. He'd fallen asleep reading Narn i Hîn Húrin; his tea untouched. He was about to sit up when he noticed something just inside his door, moving. His eyes strained to see. He lay dead still-- steadied his breath and pretended to be asleep in an effort to buy himself some time to think. No doubt a thief come looking for Bilbo's treasure. It had happened once before long ago with Bilbo there. Now he must come up with a way to deal with this intruder himself.
Frodo's mind raced; what to do other than lie here and wait for the robber to leave the room? Abscond or advance? Flee or fight? He watched the shadow standing between himself and the door through his slitted lids. Then the robber did something Frodo did not understand. He began to take off his shirt. What sort of robber undresses? Frodo had read about this type of thief before-- there was a word for those who take chastity instead of goods.
Frodo's mind grasped for what to do. Waiting in bed, pretending to be asleep was no longer the good idea it was a moment before. The fellow was a bit larger than him. Still, Frodo thought he could take him. The thief's shirt was off, and he was slowly unbuttoning his trousers when Frodo noticed a familiarity to the intruder's profile. He knew--
It was Sam. His thief. His rapist.
Now, this was interesting. Pretending to be asleep could have its advantages.
By now Frodo's eyes had adjusted to the dim light of his room. He steadied his breathing again-- for an entirely different reason. Sam let his breeches drop softly to the floor, and he still stood against the light of the door in profile. His body taunt and muscled-- from the bed Frodo could see his beautiful thief's biceps quiver-- his abdomen nervously twitching. Sam turned and slowly padded to Frodo's bed, moving softly to the other side. He gently lifted the sheet and slipped in beside him. Frodo felt the weight of his Sam pull him in. Then the light touch of Samwise's arm around his waist. He felt the warmth of his breath in his ear, and Sam's erection lightly brushing his back side. His temples pounded. It was all he could to to keep his body from arching into Sam's. Still he feigned sleep-- afraid one movement from him would send Sam away.
Frodo thought, isn't that what I should be doing? Sending him away? Then Sam's fingers crept around and low while his tongue traced to Frodo's left ear both, making their desired contact at the same time. As Sam's hand deftly squeezed around Frodo's length, he moved his thumb to rub the head of Frodo's hard member-- sending shivers through him as Sam's alternated cool breath and hot tongue inside his ravaged ear. Sam rocked against him, moaning as Frodo's bottom pressed against Sam's arousal.
"Oh, Sam," Frodo murmured. He could no longer be silent and pretend. His heart beat up through his mouth. "What are you doing here?" he asked, marveling that his Sam is here pressed tight against him. Sam answered not with words but with want-- rolling atop Frodo, pinning him beneath. Frodo grasped Sam's hair at last, meeting his eyes. "Are you some burglar come to my bed?" his voice hushed and urgent. "What do you mean to take?"
"I mean to take a priceless treasure," Sam said, his eyes narrowing never leaving Frodo's lips. "The most rare and radiant in all Middle Earth. I would much rather if this cherished item were offered, but if it's not-- I'll take it all the same." The words made Frodo quake and his blood stir. Desire and need filled him. Sam could feel him growing harder beneath with every rasping breath.
Frodo mouth curled. This was a side of Sam he'd never evened dared to dream. He felt giddy as Sam seductively rubbed his hard shaft between his legs frustrated with the cloth in the way. Oh, Eru, don't let him stop.
"I guess you'll have to take me then," Frodo challenged.
"You won't change your mind?" Sam asked. Frodo shook his head no. "Then I have no choice. I can't just leave these riches afore me-- not when others are wanting them so. You force me to take my prize." Frodo whimpered as Sam held his master's arms down and leisurely brought his mouth a breath from Frodo's. "Now, do I steal my kiss?"
Frodo didn't answer instead his deep blue eyes turned to ice. "So, that's the way it's going to be," Sam said, opening his mouth then pressing it hard against Frodo's-- his tongue pirating every smooth silky spot within. He sucked at Frodo's tongue and felt his master solid beneath him.
"And what am I to do with this?" Sam asked, pulling at Frodo's night shirt.
"I guess you'll have to rip them off of me," Frodo answered breathlessly. Sam eyes swiped over Frodo's entire body, making him feel already naked before him.
"That I'll do then-- if it is what I must do to get to my treasure." Sam calloused hand reached up, grasping the neckline, and Frodo felt the buttons give and pop. He felt his bare shin next to his quaking. He looked down-- he was vulnerable, completely exposed. He swallowed hard, wanting so much for Sam to take him as he'd dreamed of so many times. Sam saw the want in his master's eyes.
"What part of the treasure is the most precious? Could you show me where?" Frodo asked.
Sam let one hand slide down, fluttering over his nipple-- brushing against it just enough to get to stand up. "That's a jewel for sure, but not the one I'm looking for, sir." Sam's breath ran hot, floating along aside his hand, licking and teasing that same nipple into a hard pebble. "No, that's not the treasure I seek."
Sam's finger traced lower and circled around Frodo's navel, his tongue became rigid, pushing in and out-- imitating the action Frodo longed for. Frodo moaned hard and long.
"Now hearing you moan like that's a store of gold for sure. Think I can get a whole treasure chest filled with gasps and groans out of you?" Sam asked.
"You could try," Frodo answered, watching Sam's fingers dip lower. He closed his eyes waiting and wanting. Sam's fingers brushed the head of his cock, and he groaned pitifully.
"I'll get you to cry out much better than that, I think," Sam said with a half smile as he took Frodo into his mouth.
Frodo's body shook, biting his lip as Sam's tongue took butterfly flicks on the tip of his cock. Next his mouth and hand stroked and sucked slowly increasing the pressure and pace until Frodo could no longer hold in his cry. His hands clutching at the sheets he came hard in Sam's mouth-- he felt himself sob and tears wet his cheeks.
Sam look up seeing the tears. He pulled himself up to Frodo's face, brushing his salty tears with his finger. "I'm fine Sam," Frodo said. "I'm a just a bit overwhelmed." Sam rested his forehead against Frodo's, smiled and kissed him deep and sure. Frodo tasted himself in Sam's mouth. He felt himself begin to harden again.
"I must say sir that I've not gotten to that treasure yet I was wanting. Mayhap, would you be willing to give it to me?"
Frodo looked long into his Sam's eyes. "Aye," he said quietly. "All I have, I give to you."
Sam captured his master's mouth and his hand moved to his most valued store. Not as sure and steady as before, Sam watched Frodo's face as he smoothed the moist pearls from the tip of his own cock on to his fingers and placed his fingers at the treasure Sam garnered above all the rest. He slid one finger in slowly watching Frodo carefully.
"Please, don't stop," Frodo gasped, pushing himself down further into his hand. As Sam eased his finger in and out, he slid another finger in. Frodo panted. "Please Sam, I want you inside me."
Frodo took his hand, and grasped Sam, sending a heady shudder through both their frames. Frodo felt Sam's thick shaft slicken, and he spread his legs for Sam to enter him more easily. Even after readying his entrance, Sam met resistance. Sam wavered-- afraid of hurting him. Frodo pushed hard against Sam. Suddenly Sam was sheathed inside Frodo almost completely. Frodo couldn't tell just how far Sam was inside him. There was pain, but it was not unbearable. Sam held himself still as Frodo adjusted to the feel of Sam's cock. Slowly Frodo moved beneath him.
"I want all of you Sam," and as Sam pushed himself slowly in the rest of the way, a slow warmth spread through Frodo's body. As Sam's body rocked Frodo, the warmth became a searing fire. His Sam found the place he'd read about-- every inch of his body vibrated with heat pushing, straining into him again and again. He could tell by the shaking that his Sam was close. He was so near the edge also-- ready to spill. As Sam increased the pressure and speed, Frodo met each lunge with a sharp gasp. Pulse pounding, driving him, he felt the sudden blissful release. Hands shaking, he held Sam's head, pouring kisses over and over onto his salty forehead and cheeks. Sam began to call his name. Then looking deep into his sweet green eyes, Frodo silenced his lips-- crushing his name deep inside Sam as Sam came inside him.
Both wrapped together, neither wanting to move-- for this moment to end. Finally Frodo, moved his hand and lightly played with Sam's soft sandy hair.
Sam looked up.
"Frodo, you aren't going to send me away are you?" Sam asked.
"No," Frodo answered, "I don't think I have the strength to turn you away now."
Sam half smiled.
"I was hoping that's what the outcome would be from all this," Sam laughed then his face became serious.
"I love you, Sam."
"I know that. Least wise that's what the cards said. The path. My secret love," Sam smiled. "I could tell your fortune, you know."
"How's that Sam?"
"I'd be this: you gets your heart's wish, and I get mine," Sam took a deep breath and put on his most serious face. "I love you, Mr. Frodo Baggins of the Shire."
"Mmm. Next time, it will be my turn to return that love," Frodo sighed.
"No regretting. No way, no how, the way I feel is never going to change..." Sam gave Frodo a quick peck on the cheek and winked "...invisible or no."