How long had it been now? Five hours, seven hours, maybe even a few days?
Whatever the time, it had been to long. Sam's heart felt so heavy in his
chest. It was just too hard for him to see poor Frodo, lying there, in the
middle of that bed. So tiny and frail. It made Sam realize how small
hobbits were compared to the real world. How insignificant they were in the
run of things. Frodo had given his all, everything his body had to protect
that ring. Frodo, dear sweet Frodo, lying there unmoving, framed by the
soft white comforter of the bed. And yet, in his sorrow for his fallen
comrade, Sam couldn't help but to feel the urge to take advantage of the
body lay out before him.
"You mustn't," he whispered to himself. It was wrong, his friend was lying idle, possibly on his deathbed, and he was thinking about touching him? Sam simply shook his head in disgust with himself. He had to be strong, he had to here for Frodo now when his master needed him most. But surely holding his hand wouldn't hurt?
Sam trembled a bit as he let his fingers stroke Frodo's soft hand. He had wanted for so long to touch Frodo like this. To hold his hand, or pet his curly brown locks, or maybe even brush a finger across his lips. Dare he even try it? It was late out, pitch black skies filled all the windows. Sam was sure the others were asleep now, no would be there to disturb him and Frodo. It was worth the chance, when would he ever again be in this situation. Sam waited a few moments more, still stroking Frodo's pale hand. How nice it felt to know he was holding Master Frodo's hand. How much better it must feel to touch his lips. Sam swallowed hard. Frodo's waxen lips seemed to gleam in the moonlight. They were so full and pouty, Sam wanted so badly to press his own against them. No, I must start out slowly. Slowly indeed. As slow as he could, Sam extended one small finger to Frodo's sleeping face. First, Sam gently traced the outline of Frodo's lip, watching it twitch a bit when he reached the corners. Then, he moved toward the mouth, dipping the one finger in and feeling the inside of the lips. Sam couldn't believe how bold he was feeling, he also couldn't believe that he was sitting in Rivendale late a night with his index finger inside his friend's mouth. Sam couldn't help but to laugh a bit to himself as he pulled the finger out. What next though? A kiss maybe? Yes, I nice soft, warm kiss on the…..
"Samwise?" Sam, startled, turned towards the door to see Gandalf standing there. Had the old man seen anything?
"Yes, Mr. Gandalf? You need something, sir?" Sam decided just to act as though nothing had happened.
"I think Frodo's wound needs to be cleaned again. I would hate for it to get infected, just as he was taking a turn for the better." Sam nodded in agreement. "Would you mind terribly Samwise?"
"No sir, not at all." Sam sat up to pick up the basin on the table stand, but was stopped by Gandalf.
"You didn't let me finish. I was also wondering if you'd clean Frodo too. There's a tub in that room there to your left. Would you mind terribly Samwise." There was a moment of silence. A long moment of silence before anyone spoke again.
"You say, a tub in there?" Gandalf nodded. "And you want me to clean Frodo?"
"If you don't mind."
"Of course, Mr. Gandalf." The old wizard smiled, just smiled then headed back out the way he came leaving Sam all alone to ponder what to do next.
The incessant sound of crickets chirping in the brisk fall night gave no answers to Sam's dilemma. He promised Gandalf he'd complete the task set before him, yet, how could he do this without giving into the urge of touching his master. Sam swallowed hard as he looked down at the empty shell before him. Poor Frodo, how could he do such a horrible thing to him? Again, Samwise felt disgusted with himself.
"Don't worry Master," he whispered into Frodo's ear, gently lifting him from the bed, "I'll do no thing unwanted to you."
This was going to be the hardest promise Sam would ever have to keep, and likewise, the most important. The large washroom in the back consisted of one large tub, far to large for any one hobbit, a small hot spring and bucket to fill the tub with, and a vast array of candlelight to be sure there was plenty of light. Sam set Frodo down on a small sofa, backless and upholstered in a deep purple. Sam made sure Frodo was comfortable, and set to work drawing the bath. The small hobbit worked quickly as he could, filling the large tub with the hot water, but being of such a small frame, it did indeed take sometime.
When the bath was finally filled, it was time for Sam's big test. He felt a bit shaky, as he edged his way over to the sullen Frodo. His features were excentuated in the candlelight, long tresses of curly brown locks cast shadows on his face, and covered his closed eyes. In this light, he almost looked alive and well again. He was no longer pale and sickly like, but more like a child dozing of into a sweet dream. Sam tried his hardest to place a smile on his love's face, which added more to the sweet fantasy. Ever so slowly did Sam remove his master's clothes, thought it was no more than a worn undershirt and quest-worn pants. The shirt came off easily, slipping it over the head. Sam was now exposed to Frodo's bare chest, tanned beautifully by the candles. Frodo did not have a manly lean body, but at the same time it instilled longing within Sam. Not admitting it to himself, Sam made an excuse to brush a hand against Frodo's bare nipple, by adjusting the body to remove the pants easier. Sam felt silly doing so, but no one was watching. And really, was it that big of a deal?
Next came the pants. Sam was more nervous than he had ever imagined being. Placing his open palm on the crotch, he gently pressed down to feel up Frodo. This wasn't bad, this wasn't bad! Sam soon found himself stroking Frodo's penis through his pants. Sam shook his head at himself and drew away. This was wrong, no matter how good it felt, it was wrong.
Sam gently unbuttoned the pants and slid them down Frodo's legs. The blond soon found himself standing in front of a naked Frodo, lying unconscious in front of him.
"Well," Sam sighed, "now here comes the hard part."
Sam quickly stripped himself down, not wanting to leave Frodo naked in the cold to long, then placed himself in the bath. The water was still nice and warm and quite inviting. Carefully, Sam pulled his companion into the tub and placed him of his lap. One arm was tightly wrapped around Frodo's waist, as the other groped for something to clean him off with. Sam soon found a washcloth and some sweet smelling elvan made soaps. He lathered up and slowly began to clean Frodo. Sam noticed that the mark on Frodo's chest was healing very nicely and at most would leave a deep scar. Frodo moaned and shifted a bit as Sam grazed the gash. The brunette still seemed to be sensitive there. Sam tried his very hardest to be a gentle as he could cleaning the spot, because it did need to be cleaned, but all his efforts seemed to fail. Frodo was becoming restless in his arms, rubbing his mouth up against Sam's neck in some odd attempt to alleviate the pain. Frodo's weak breath was hot on the blonde's neck as he tried to calm his friend down.
"Now, now Mr. Frodo, didn't mean to harm you. Please relax." Sam looked down and gave his master a gentle kiss on the forehead. Both were silent for a moment. Sam smiled to himself and went in for another kiss. It felt so nice to be the one to comfort Frodo in such a way. Sam reached for the cloth and began once again cleaning his master's body. Everything was going along well until Frodo began to shift again in the blonde's arms.
"Sam," his whispered softly, nuzzling up against Sam's neck. Sam dropped the washcloth in the water and froze. "Sam, hold me closer," Frodo breathed. "It's, it's cold." Sam felt hesitant for a moment as to what to do. Instinctively he wrapped both his arms around Frodo and began to plan his next move.
"Don't worry Mr. Frodo, I'll take care of you now." Sam eyed a large towel in the corner of the room, but as he began to rise from his spot, something caught his attention. More specifically, a hand moving up his leg.
"Stay with me Sam," Frodo cooed, "it's so cold. I need you here." Sam began to panic, having no idea what to do next. Did Frodo know of what he was doing earlier? Should he get out of the water and find something warm for his master? While pondering all this, Frodo's hands were slowly making themselves busy climbing up Sam's leg. Soon enough, they reached their destination.
"Mr. Frodo!"
"Yes my dear, dear Samwise?" Frodo was getting quite close now to the dumbfounded and outrageously horny Sam. Frodo's hands seemed to know exactly what they were doing, while the hobbits cool blue eyes stayed connected with Sam's.
"Mr. Frodo, really, if someone were to walk in.."
"You weren't concerned with that before were you?" Sam shook his head. So, Frodo did know about the going ons in the bed.
Sam shivered in delight as he suddenly felt Frodo's fingers tighten around his painful erection. Frodo pressed a smile into Sam's mouth and began to gently rub his friend.
"Frodo," the blonde moaned back into his master's mouth. The quick and steady movements of his friend's hands were perfectly choreographed to give ultimate pleasure. Sam was amazed that his friend, not only a few moments ago was comatose, was giving him a hand job.
"Sam, oh Sam I've always wanted to tell you," Frodo kissed Sam viciously on the lips. "That I'm horribly," kiss, "desperately," kiss, "madly in love with you." At that moment Sam came and found his mouth caught in the heaviest kiss of the night. It was long, passionate and full of abstract tongue action like you wouldn't believe. It was all very magical.
Frodo laid exhausted in Sam's arms. It was near morning now, just before the sun was ready to make a grand entrance over horizon. Both hobbits stared dreamily out one of the large windows of Rivendell, still intoxicated by their lovemaking. The night had been long one, but also an exciting event. Several times did they admit their admiration for one another, screaming madly during their many love makings. And now the night had quieted down, and the other's in Rivendell slept, though their minds were constantly worrying over the mysterious noises in the dark.
Sam draped a lazy arm around Frodo's waist and buried his face deep in his lover's neck.
"Night Master Frodo," he yawned, "I love you." Frodo smiled to himself. How nice it felt to hear that. Many times, back home in Bag End he'd anticipate Sam's early morning hello, and then miss him at night when the lights dimmed out. Frodo couldn't wait till he was home again. Maybe from now on every night he'd have Sam beside him, to say good night.
"Good night Sam," Frodo whispered, knowing full well his lover was asleep. He did deserve it, it had been quite a night and quite a late hour. Frodo snuggled deep down into his soft white pillow. The others would be up long before them, which left an open surprise and an open discussion for all. But that was for the morning. A discussion to have over eggs and toast. Well, not quite. Anyhow, it was still night as far as Frodo was concerned, and the issue wouldn't arise till day break. In the meantime, the young hobbit decided to catch a few Z's.
End
"You mustn't," he whispered to himself. It was wrong, his friend was lying idle, possibly on his deathbed, and he was thinking about touching him? Sam simply shook his head in disgust with himself. He had to be strong, he had to here for Frodo now when his master needed him most. But surely holding his hand wouldn't hurt?
Sam trembled a bit as he let his fingers stroke Frodo's soft hand. He had wanted for so long to touch Frodo like this. To hold his hand, or pet his curly brown locks, or maybe even brush a finger across his lips. Dare he even try it? It was late out, pitch black skies filled all the windows. Sam was sure the others were asleep now, no would be there to disturb him and Frodo. It was worth the chance, when would he ever again be in this situation. Sam waited a few moments more, still stroking Frodo's pale hand. How nice it felt to know he was holding Master Frodo's hand. How much better it must feel to touch his lips. Sam swallowed hard. Frodo's waxen lips seemed to gleam in the moonlight. They were so full and pouty, Sam wanted so badly to press his own against them. No, I must start out slowly. Slowly indeed. As slow as he could, Sam extended one small finger to Frodo's sleeping face. First, Sam gently traced the outline of Frodo's lip, watching it twitch a bit when he reached the corners. Then, he moved toward the mouth, dipping the one finger in and feeling the inside of the lips. Sam couldn't believe how bold he was feeling, he also couldn't believe that he was sitting in Rivendale late a night with his index finger inside his friend's mouth. Sam couldn't help but to laugh a bit to himself as he pulled the finger out. What next though? A kiss maybe? Yes, I nice soft, warm kiss on the…..
"Samwise?" Sam, startled, turned towards the door to see Gandalf standing there. Had the old man seen anything?
"Yes, Mr. Gandalf? You need something, sir?" Sam decided just to act as though nothing had happened.
"I think Frodo's wound needs to be cleaned again. I would hate for it to get infected, just as he was taking a turn for the better." Sam nodded in agreement. "Would you mind terribly Samwise?"
"No sir, not at all." Sam sat up to pick up the basin on the table stand, but was stopped by Gandalf.
"You didn't let me finish. I was also wondering if you'd clean Frodo too. There's a tub in that room there to your left. Would you mind terribly Samwise." There was a moment of silence. A long moment of silence before anyone spoke again.
"You say, a tub in there?" Gandalf nodded. "And you want me to clean Frodo?"
"If you don't mind."
"Of course, Mr. Gandalf." The old wizard smiled, just smiled then headed back out the way he came leaving Sam all alone to ponder what to do next.
The incessant sound of crickets chirping in the brisk fall night gave no answers to Sam's dilemma. He promised Gandalf he'd complete the task set before him, yet, how could he do this without giving into the urge of touching his master. Sam swallowed hard as he looked down at the empty shell before him. Poor Frodo, how could he do such a horrible thing to him? Again, Samwise felt disgusted with himself.
"Don't worry Master," he whispered into Frodo's ear, gently lifting him from the bed, "I'll do no thing unwanted to you."
This was going to be the hardest promise Sam would ever have to keep, and likewise, the most important. The large washroom in the back consisted of one large tub, far to large for any one hobbit, a small hot spring and bucket to fill the tub with, and a vast array of candlelight to be sure there was plenty of light. Sam set Frodo down on a small sofa, backless and upholstered in a deep purple. Sam made sure Frodo was comfortable, and set to work drawing the bath. The small hobbit worked quickly as he could, filling the large tub with the hot water, but being of such a small frame, it did indeed take sometime.
When the bath was finally filled, it was time for Sam's big test. He felt a bit shaky, as he edged his way over to the sullen Frodo. His features were excentuated in the candlelight, long tresses of curly brown locks cast shadows on his face, and covered his closed eyes. In this light, he almost looked alive and well again. He was no longer pale and sickly like, but more like a child dozing of into a sweet dream. Sam tried his hardest to place a smile on his love's face, which added more to the sweet fantasy. Ever so slowly did Sam remove his master's clothes, thought it was no more than a worn undershirt and quest-worn pants. The shirt came off easily, slipping it over the head. Sam was now exposed to Frodo's bare chest, tanned beautifully by the candles. Frodo did not have a manly lean body, but at the same time it instilled longing within Sam. Not admitting it to himself, Sam made an excuse to brush a hand against Frodo's bare nipple, by adjusting the body to remove the pants easier. Sam felt silly doing so, but no one was watching. And really, was it that big of a deal?
Next came the pants. Sam was more nervous than he had ever imagined being. Placing his open palm on the crotch, he gently pressed down to feel up Frodo. This wasn't bad, this wasn't bad! Sam soon found himself stroking Frodo's penis through his pants. Sam shook his head at himself and drew away. This was wrong, no matter how good it felt, it was wrong.
Sam gently unbuttoned the pants and slid them down Frodo's legs. The blond soon found himself standing in front of a naked Frodo, lying unconscious in front of him.
"Well," Sam sighed, "now here comes the hard part."
Sam quickly stripped himself down, not wanting to leave Frodo naked in the cold to long, then placed himself in the bath. The water was still nice and warm and quite inviting. Carefully, Sam pulled his companion into the tub and placed him of his lap. One arm was tightly wrapped around Frodo's waist, as the other groped for something to clean him off with. Sam soon found a washcloth and some sweet smelling elvan made soaps. He lathered up and slowly began to clean Frodo. Sam noticed that the mark on Frodo's chest was healing very nicely and at most would leave a deep scar. Frodo moaned and shifted a bit as Sam grazed the gash. The brunette still seemed to be sensitive there. Sam tried his very hardest to be a gentle as he could cleaning the spot, because it did need to be cleaned, but all his efforts seemed to fail. Frodo was becoming restless in his arms, rubbing his mouth up against Sam's neck in some odd attempt to alleviate the pain. Frodo's weak breath was hot on the blonde's neck as he tried to calm his friend down.
"Now, now Mr. Frodo, didn't mean to harm you. Please relax." Sam looked down and gave his master a gentle kiss on the forehead. Both were silent for a moment. Sam smiled to himself and went in for another kiss. It felt so nice to be the one to comfort Frodo in such a way. Sam reached for the cloth and began once again cleaning his master's body. Everything was going along well until Frodo began to shift again in the blonde's arms.
"Sam," his whispered softly, nuzzling up against Sam's neck. Sam dropped the washcloth in the water and froze. "Sam, hold me closer," Frodo breathed. "It's, it's cold." Sam felt hesitant for a moment as to what to do. Instinctively he wrapped both his arms around Frodo and began to plan his next move.
"Don't worry Mr. Frodo, I'll take care of you now." Sam eyed a large towel in the corner of the room, but as he began to rise from his spot, something caught his attention. More specifically, a hand moving up his leg.
"Stay with me Sam," Frodo cooed, "it's so cold. I need you here." Sam began to panic, having no idea what to do next. Did Frodo know of what he was doing earlier? Should he get out of the water and find something warm for his master? While pondering all this, Frodo's hands were slowly making themselves busy climbing up Sam's leg. Soon enough, they reached their destination.
"Mr. Frodo!"
"Yes my dear, dear Samwise?" Frodo was getting quite close now to the dumbfounded and outrageously horny Sam. Frodo's hands seemed to know exactly what they were doing, while the hobbits cool blue eyes stayed connected with Sam's.
"Mr. Frodo, really, if someone were to walk in.."
"You weren't concerned with that before were you?" Sam shook his head. So, Frodo did know about the going ons in the bed.
Sam shivered in delight as he suddenly felt Frodo's fingers tighten around his painful erection. Frodo pressed a smile into Sam's mouth and began to gently rub his friend.
"Frodo," the blonde moaned back into his master's mouth. The quick and steady movements of his friend's hands were perfectly choreographed to give ultimate pleasure. Sam was amazed that his friend, not only a few moments ago was comatose, was giving him a hand job.
"Sam, oh Sam I've always wanted to tell you," Frodo kissed Sam viciously on the lips. "That I'm horribly," kiss, "desperately," kiss, "madly in love with you." At that moment Sam came and found his mouth caught in the heaviest kiss of the night. It was long, passionate and full of abstract tongue action like you wouldn't believe. It was all very magical.
Frodo laid exhausted in Sam's arms. It was near morning now, just before the sun was ready to make a grand entrance over horizon. Both hobbits stared dreamily out one of the large windows of Rivendell, still intoxicated by their lovemaking. The night had been long one, but also an exciting event. Several times did they admit their admiration for one another, screaming madly during their many love makings. And now the night had quieted down, and the other's in Rivendell slept, though their minds were constantly worrying over the mysterious noises in the dark.
Sam draped a lazy arm around Frodo's waist and buried his face deep in his lover's neck.
"Night Master Frodo," he yawned, "I love you." Frodo smiled to himself. How nice it felt to hear that. Many times, back home in Bag End he'd anticipate Sam's early morning hello, and then miss him at night when the lights dimmed out. Frodo couldn't wait till he was home again. Maybe from now on every night he'd have Sam beside him, to say good night.
"Good night Sam," Frodo whispered, knowing full well his lover was asleep. He did deserve it, it had been quite a night and quite a late hour. Frodo snuggled deep down into his soft white pillow. The others would be up long before them, which left an open surprise and an open discussion for all. But that was for the morning. A discussion to have over eggs and toast. Well, not quite. Anyhow, it was still night as far as Frodo was concerned, and the issue wouldn't arise till day break. In the meantime, the young hobbit decided to catch a few Z's.
End