My Dear Sam

by SilenceintheGraveyard

Frodo is being consumed by the ring. Sam wants to help, but what can he do? Perhaps a more intimate method could be used to drive the darkness out. Sam/Frodo pairing. Super sweet.

"Darkness" was a word that Frodo had thought he understood. It was a distant, intangible thing. Something one read about in old stories, or heard tales of from travelers that wandered out of far-off lands. It was not something a Hobbit need concern himself about. In the Shire, darkness was simply the absence of light; mysterious, perhaps, but never threatening.

But that had been before Frodo became the ring-bearer, and before he'd journeyed far from the soft hills of the Shire and into wild, dangerous lands. Now he was heading straight for Mordor, the darkest place in Middle Earth, to destroy the One Ring.

And the closer Frodo got, the more he found that "darkness" was an inadequate word; for his feelings, and for Mordor, Sauron, and the ring. Ah, the ring! The way it made him feel was sick and stifling. It consumed him like a creeping vine consumes a tree, eating away at his mind until he could scarcely remember the happiness—the light—of his home. It weighed upon his heart like a mountain, sucking the air from his lungs and the will from his soul. It was beyond agony. No, "darkness" didn't even begin to cover it.

Frodo pondered this as he sat on the hard ground, back leaning against a tree. It was going dark (or darker, for it was never truly light so close to Mordor), so they had stopped to rest for the night. Smeagol had wandered off (to hunt no doubt), and Sam had given Frodo a piece of the elven bread, urging him to eat. He tried to find the will to make himself eat, but what was the point? There was nothing inside to nourish.

Sam had started the fire and was now tucking a blanket around Frodo. Frodo knew it must be cold, but he was no longer capable of feeling warm-he wasn't even sure he remembered what "warm" felt like-so it didn't bother him. But Sam tucked him in anyway, and settled down beside him to offer warmth and comfort that the ring-bearer couldn't feel.

What he could feel was Sam's eyes on him, staring at him. He felt the younger Hobbit shift beside him, leaning forward. Frodo noticed too late that the uneaten bread was still in his hand, fully visible.

"Don't think I haven't noticed, Mr. Frodo," Sam said.

"What?" Frodo asked, turning to look at him.

"You're not eating. You never eat. And you barely sleep. It's not good for you!"

"What would be the point?" Frodo asked. "I might as well eat dirt for all the good food does me, and there's no respite to find in sleep. It only gives me dark dreams that make me feel even less rested when I wake."

The despairing look on Sam's face made Frodo wish he hadn't spoken. "I'm sorry," he said, turning away.

"No, don't be," Sam said, gripping his shoulder. "It isn't your fault. I just wish you'd let me help you."

Frodo sighed. Good old Sam, always ready to give his all. But there's nothing you could do. As Frodo turned away from Sam's concerned gaze, he felt a familiar dark surge, and his mind was filled with the image of the great eye. It burned within him as the ring burned against his chest. His eyes slid shut as he felt the surges of darkness flow through him like a poison, a tingling shiver that shook his body. And yet, it was pleasurable. It was pleasure so painful he could hardly stand it. His soul tore itself between terror and longing for the gaze of Sauron, the one thing that could make him feel anything other than pain and fear. His fingers inched towards the ring. If only he could put it on, the pain and fear would end, and there would be nothing but oblivion. Give in, just give in!

"Mr. Frodo!"

Frodo's eyes snapped open and the vision faded, leaving behind a dull panic. He stared around the campsite like a cornered animal, and his breath came in heavy pants. Then he noticed Sam's hands gripping his, preventing him from putting on the ring. He shifted his gaze to the younger Hobbit, desperate for a glimpse of something familiar. Sam's brow was creased with worry, and his eyes…Frodo swallowed…his eyes shone with the irrepressible life behind them. For Frodo, empty shell as he was, Sam's eyes were nearly unbearable to look at. And yet, he couldn't bear to look away.

Sam's expression slowly softened to one of affection, and he began to stroke Frodo's cheek. "It's okay," he murmured.

Frodo just stared back at Sam, feeling his gentle fingers on his cheek. Sam began stroking the entire side of his face, from temple to jaw.

"It's okay," Sam said again.

Now he was running his fingers through Frodo's hair, and Frodo's breathing was returning to normal. He had come to rely on Sam for things like this, and knew for a fact that he would have perished long ago if the younger Hobbit hadn't been with him. Sam, ever-caring and ever-watchful, would not let Frodo succumb to the ring if he could help it.

"Whatever would I do without you, Sam?" Frodo murmured.

A smile twitched at the corner of Sam's mouth. "You'll never have to find out," he said. Then, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, Sam leaned in close and pressed his lips against Frodo's.

The effect was instant; Frodo felt the ring grow lighter, and the dark fog in his mind receded. A warm, tingling feeling radiated outward from the kiss over his entire body. And a memory of before the ring woke deep inside him.

Then it was over. Sam broke the kiss and pulled away. Frodo felt all the bad feelings creep back like shadows of trees growing longer as the sun set. No.

"I'm sorry Mr. Frodo, I didn't mean to, honest! It's just…you looked so sad, I…"

Sam's cheeks were red, and he wouldn't meet Frodo's eyes. He shifted away, and Frodo was surprised by how much colder he was without Sam touching him. Had he been warm before?

"No!" Frodo said, grabbing Sam by the arm, desperate to keep touching him. "Do that again."

Sam stared at him, wide eyed. "What?"

Frodo clutched at Sam's collar, forcing him closer. "Please, Sam," he begged. "Kiss me again."

Bewildered, Sam obeyed. And at the touch of Sam's lips Frodo felt the darkness receding again. Frodo felt weak with the relief of it. At the same time a new feeling rushed over him, electric and…warm.

"Uhhh," Frodo moaned into Sam's mouth, pressing himself closer to the warm body, desperate to keep feeling this new feeling Sam caused.

Sam pulled back in surprise. "Mr. Frodo, are you all right?"

Frodo nodded, trying to find the right words to explain what Sam made him feel. "Warm," he panted. "S-Sam, you make me feel so…warm."

Something gave way in Sam's heart. Frodo saw it in his eyes. A long-repressed desire? A half-dreamed dream? It didn't matter to Frodo. All that mattered was that Sam crashed their lips together, forcing Frodo's mouth open with his own and gripping him close. Frodo gave a shaky moan as he felt Sam's tongue slide against his. Frodo kissed him back as though his lips meant life itself. The fear, the pain, all the dark things he didn't even know he carried were fading away, and the new warm feeling that now filled his being grew stronger. Frodo broke the kiss to gasp for air, and Sam moved to press his lips and tongue against his jaw and neck. He nipped the soft skin and Frodo's head fell back with a gasp.

"Oh Sam, never stop touching me," he moaned as another word for this new feeling came to mind; light.

"I won't," Sam whispered in his ear. "I promise."

But it wasn't enough. Now that Frodo knew what it was to feel light, he felt the lingering heaviness all too strongly. More. They needed to touch more. Frodo undid the clasp of Sam's cloak, then moved to his shirt buttons. But his hands shook. Sam noticed what he was trying to do and reached down to help. At last they got Sam's shirt open, and Frodo pressed his hand against Sam's chest, feeling his heart race away beneath it. What did Sam feel? There was no darkness in him to drive out, so what made his heart beat so fast, and his hands move to undo Frodo's buttons? But Frodo couldn't wonder long, because now Sam was peppering kisses along his bare chest, brushing the ring aside as though it were a harmless trinket. Frodo's every breath came as a whimper of need. and he thought of yet another word for this feeling; desire.

Frodo and Sam divested each other of clothing until their top halves were completely bare. Sam sat back and gazed at Frodo with an expression Frodo couldn't read, but made his heart beat even faster. Sam reached out and trailed a finger down the center of Frodo's chest, all the way down to his naval.

"You're so beautiful," Sam said.

Something twisted in Frodo's heart, and his breath caught. He felt tears prick his eyes, but they were not born of fear or pain. What was this feeling? A memory stirred; in the Shire, a lifetime ago, he stood on a hill by the road looking down at a grey-bearded wizard. "A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins," he had said. "Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to!" Then they laughed together and Frodo jumped into his arms, such was the joy of seeing each other again. Joy…was this joy?

Frodo found he couldn't speak, but Sam didn't seem to require a response. He kissed him again, and Frodo tangled his hands in his ginger hair in hopes of keeping him there. Sam's mouth drifted down towards his chest again, biting and kissing and sucking as it went. He flicked his tongue over a nipple, then bit down and sucked, hard. Frodo's back arched against the tree and he cried out. Sam put his arms around him and pulled him forward so he was straddling Sam's lap. Frodo felt something hard pressing into him. What is that? Then Sam rolled his hips, pressing them into Frodo's, and Frodo went rigid with a sharp cry. He suddenly became aware of a tight, hot feeling in his stomach, and a hardness in his own trousers. What…?

Frodo stayed frozen in his surprise and confusion. Sam stopped moving and placed a hand on his face.

"Are you okay?" He asked. His face was flushed and his eyes shone. "I'm sorry, am I moving too fast?"

"What? No, I…I just, I don't understand." Frodo reached down towards his crotch, where he felt hard and hot and tight. "Why do I feel…?" He trailed off, unable to put word to sensation.

Sam frowned. "Frodo, don't tell me you've forgotten what desire feels like?"

"Desire?" Frodo echoed. But that wasn't right. Desire was what he felt for Sam's kisses and touches, what he felt for the darkness being driven out.

Sam, seeing Frodo's confused expression added in a low voice, "you know…sexual desire."

Sexual desire. Suddenly Frodo remembered how his mates used to talk about lasses growing up. He remembered books he'd stolen from his uncle's library out of curiosity, and the partly instructive, partly cautionary talks about women he'd sat through when his uncle found out. But Frodo had never felt the feelings his mates, the books, and his uncle had described. Honestly he'd found the whole thing rather trifling, preferring to look on in amusement as his peers made fools of themselves in matters of romance and courting. So why now? Why with Sam?

"Frodo?" Sam prompted in a soft voice.

"Sorry," Frodo said. "It's just…I've never felt…this. I thought I wasn't capable of feeling this. I-I don't understand…" Frodo bit his lip, trying to make sense of all his emotions and physical feelings, why this physical intimacy was driving the darkness out, and what any of this had to do with Sam.

Sam ran a hand through Frodo's hair, fixing him with an apologetic, caring gaze. "Do you want to stop?" He asked.

Panic gripped Frodo. Confused as he was about the whole thing, the thought of stopping and having the heavy darkness return was unbearable. "No!" He cried, gripping Sam's arms as hard as he could. "Please, Sam, Don't. I…I…"

But Frodo couldn't find the words to express anything he felt. How could he explain what he wanted when he didn't know himself? And on top of it all he could feel the darkness coiling around his heart again. Frodo began to cry.

"Frodo, what's wrong?" Sam said, slight panic in his voice. "Why are you crying?"

Frodo shook his head, turning away from Sam and refusing to speak.

Sam cupped Frodo's chin and gently turned his face back to his. "Please talk to me. I want to help you. What's wrong? What can I do?"

"I don't know," Frodo said in a small voice, brushing the tears from his cheeks. "I'm just...I don't understand."

Sam nodded, deep in thought. "You said before that you thought you weren't capable of feeling like this. Do you mean to say you've never felt aroused? Never felt attraction?"

Frodo nodded. "Never. Not for a lass...or a lad."

"And how do you feel...about me?" Sam asked.

Sam's voice was calm and neutral, but Frodo could see a guarded expression in his eyes. He realized that Sam felt attraction for him, perhaps since before they'd left the Shire. Guilt churned in the older Hobbit's stomach.

"My dear Sam," Frodo said, placing a hand on Sam's cheek, "I care more for you than anyone else. I always wanted you near me, from the moment we met. But I've never felt like this."

A ghost of a smile crossed Sam's face as Frodo spoke. Then concern returned to his eyes. "There's something else," he said. "I can tell there's something else bothering you. What is it?"

Frodo cast a furtive look around their campsite before leaning closer to whisper, "Sam...you drive Him out."

"What?" Sam sounded taken aback.

"You were right, Sam," Frodo explained, "The ring is taking hold of me. The weight of it crushes me. A dark fog possesses my mind. Sometimes when I close my eyes I can see Him…the great eye…and it no longer frightens me."

Frodo couldn't bear to watch the horror growing in Sam's eyes, so he leaned forward to rest his head on Sam's shoulder and hurried to finish explaining.

"But the moment you kissed me, I felt the darkness in my mind fade, and the heaviness lighten. Somehow, you can drive Him out."

Sam wrapped his arms around him. "Frodo, I…"

Frodo pulled back so he could look at Sam again. "But what if that's all this is?"

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"What if my desire for you…is just a desire for the absence of Him?"

Sam looked pensive as he gazed at Frodo, head tilted ever so slightly to one side. He put a hand on Frodo's knee. "Do you really think that?" He asked, moving his hand up Frodo's thigh and squeezing.

Frodo shivered; he'd forgotten how aroused he still was. "Umm," he said.

"You know, just because you've never felt arousal doesn't mean it's impossible. But it doesn't matter to me either way. You said you've always wanted me with you, and that's enough for me. And besides, I've been desperate for a way to help you, to lighten the load. If this is what I need to do I'll gladly do it." Sam ran his fingers though Frodo's hair, a gesture Frodo was growing rather fond of. "So. Do you want to continue?"

Frodo swallowed and nodded.

Sam smiled. "First let me…" Sam grabbed their cloaks and draped them over a low-hanging branch, forming a tent around them. To shield from unfriendly eyes.

Then Sam turned back to Frodo, taking his face in his hands and kissing him deeply. Frodo sighed and closed his eyes as he felt the darkness in his mind recede again and kissed back with equal passion. He let Sam lower him to the ground, his head propped up on Sam's pack. Sam slid back and gazed down at Frodo with a look that the older Hobbit now recognized as desire.

"You can stop me at any time, okay?" Sam said.

"Okay," Frodo said.

Sam placed a hand on Frodo's chest and caressed downward just as he had before, this time stopping at the hem of his trousers. Frodo felt as though burning flames radiated outward from Sam's touch, and gooseflesh erupted all over his body despite the heat.

"May I?" Sam asked, pulling ever so slightly at the waistband.

Frodo nodded, desperate to be touched there. He felt so hot, so tight. Sam pressed his palm against Frodo's hardness, rubbing slowly up and down.

"Uhhhn, Sam," Frodo moaned, arching up into his touch. The pleasure was intense, driving every other thought from his mind. He needed more.

Sam claimed Frodo's lips in another kiss, and the latter felt the former unbuttoning his trousers. He reached down and helped him pull them off. Frodo could feel Sam's eyes on his now naked body, and felt suddenly shy. He flushed and turned away.

"You're staring," Frodo complained.

"Sorry," Sam said. "It's just that I've never seen anything more beautiful in my life."

Tears sprang to Frodo's eyes and he felt his cheeks flame. Beautiful?

Sam placed his hand on Frodo's thigh and inched it upwards, brushing against his hip, deliberately avoiding his arousal. It was like he was waiting for Frodo to stop him. But nothing was further from Frodo's mind.

"Please Sam," Frodo whined, "touch me."

Sam took Frodo's cock in his hand and stroked.

Frodo nearly lost it right there. He felt as though he'd been electrocuted. Waves of pleasure washed over him as he arched off the blanket with a loud cry. Sam put his other hand against the side of Frodo's face, almost a soothing gesture.

"Never been aroused before," Sam said, voice thick with arousal himself, "and yet here you are, all hot and bothered for me?"

Something about those words made Frodo's cock twitch in Sam's hand. Suddenly he wanted to touch Sam this way. All shyness forgotten, he reached out to unbutton Sam's trousers and shoved them down. Sam pulled them the rest of the way off. Frodo grasped his cock. It was as hard as the roots under Frodo's back, but the skin was as soft as velvet. He stroked it the same way Sam had done. For the first time that evening, Sam moaned. The sound of it made the coil of pleasure in his stomach tighten. He wanted to hear more. He stroked Sam as Sam stroked him, trying to keep quiet so he could listen to the delicious sounds of Sam's moaning. Frodo watched Sam's face, which had bliss etched into every inch of it, and suddenly understood why Sam had stared at him before.

"You're beautiful too," Frodo said.

Sam looked down at him with such wonder that Frodo grabbed him by the hair and pulled him down for another kiss. Their tongues slid over and around one another, their hands tangled in the other's hair, and it was bliss. Frodo couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so good.

Sam pulled back, but before Frodo could whine at the loss he felt Sam's fingers slip into his mouth. He sucked them without question, glad to have any part of Sam so intimately placed. Then Sam started stroking him again. Frodo was too lost in pleasure to do anything but run his hands over Sam's body. After a while Sam withdrew his fingers from Frodo's mouth and stopped stroking him. Frodo gazed up at Sam with questioning eyes. And thought Sam didn't say anything, Frodo understood by his expression that some sort of transition had arrived.

"What next?" Frodo asked, breathless.

"Do you trust me?" Sam asked.

Frodo nodded, feeling both nervous and excited. "Yes."

Sam put his hand (the one that hadn't been in Frodo's mouth) between Frodo's legs and carefully spread them, then pushed them up so his feet were flat on the ground. "I've only read about this next part," He said.

"Where?" Frodo asked, curious.

"In Rivendell," Sam said, blushing. "In one of the libraries, there were some books up on a high shelf. Actually I asked the elf lad working there, and he showed them to me. Giggled the whole time."

"Why did you go looking for books like that?"

Sam blushed even more. "Well, I…you see I'd had feelings for you for a long time and…and I wasn't sure where I could find information about…about this in the Shire, so I thought, as long as I'm here…"

The thought of Sam pining for him for so long made Frodo sad, but also strangely giddy. "Go on," he said. "Show me what you learned."

Sam nodded. "Relax," he said.

Frodo tried, but apprehension began to twist in his stomach. He didn't know how this worked, and wasn't sure what to expect. Sam took his wet fingers and placed one over his opening, pressing gently. Frodo shivered at the sensation. Then Sam pushed the finger fully inside.

Frodo gasped and tensed; it stung. Sam put his other hand on Frodo's hip and squeezed.

"Relax," he said in a soothing voice.

Frodo nodded and tried to obey. Sam moved his finger slowly in and out, and eventually Frodo got used to the sensation. He nodded, and Sam added the second finger. Again Frodo winced. Sam massaged his hip as he twisted his fingers together, carefully stretching the tight passage.

Frodo could guess what was coming next, but he couldn't imagine something that much bigger than a few fingers fitting inside him. The thought made him shake with nerves. But Sam was so gentle and patient, and soon enough he was panting for more. Sam leaned forward and kissed him as he inserted the third finger. Frodo whined at the uncomfortable stretching, and in response Sam started stroking his cock again. The pain mixed with the pleasure in an intoxicating way, and Frodo found himself rocking in time with the movement of Sam's fingers. Then Sam hit something inside him that made him see stars. He arched back and groaned in ecstasy, and felt a wetness leak from his cock.

"Hit there again," he begged weakly.

Sam obeyed, easily finding the spot again and hitting it over and over until Frodo was a quivering mess beneath him.

"Please Sam," Frodo begged. "I want more of you. I want you inside me, please!"

"Are you sure?" Sam asked.

Frodo nodded in desperation. "Yes! Please, I need you!"

Sam withdrew his fingers, and Frodo felt unpleasantly empty. But he knew that wouldn't last. Sam took his cock in his hand and spread the pearly substance leaking from the tip over it. Then he lined himself up and pressed his cock into Frodo. The stretching was intense, and Frodo clenched the blanket in his fists, eyes screwed shut as Sam slid fully into him. They stayed like that, perfectly still, for several long moments. Then Frodo felt the pain begin to fade as the pleasure of having his Sam inside him took over. His breath came in heavy pants just as it did when the ring overcame him, but the sensation couldn't have been more different. Frodo opened his eyes, and what he saw took his breath away.

Sam's face was twisted with pleasure, his eyes shut and his mouth hanging open as he panted. Frodo could see him trembling with the effort of holding still despite the overwhelming need he must be feeling. The sight only made Frodo want him more. He thrust his hips upward. Sam's eyes snapped open and fixed on Frodo. Frodo nodded and Sam grabbed his hips, pulled slowly out and thrust back in again. Frodo gave a strangled moan and reached up to grab Sam's arms, needing something to hold onto. Sam sped up his thrusts, and Frodo raised his hips to meet each one.

"Gods, Frodo," Sam said, his voice sounding almost pained. "Do you have any idea what you do to me? You feel so damn good."

"I love having you inside me," Frodo said. "I—uhhhggg, I—nnnnnggggg! Sam! Faster!"

Sam put his arms around Frodo and pulled them both upward. Frodo ended up straddling Sam's hips like he had earlier that evening. Sam grabbed Frodo's buttocks and thrusted up into him. He hit that same spot and Frodo threw his head back with a strangled cry.

"There, again," he begged.

They continued to roll their hips together, Sam hitting that spot inside Frodo every time. Frodo tangled his hand in Sam's ginger hair and pulled his mouth to his with a groan. He was past coherent words, past coherent thought, past any hold the ring could ever have on him. It could never compare to this. Sam reached between them and stroked Frodo's cock in time with his thrusts.

"Come for me, love," Sam said.

The coil of pleasure in Frodo's stomach burst. He arched backwards and called Sam's name in rapture as the waves of his orgasm crashed over him with such force that the world around him fell away. Jet after jet of release covered his stomach and Sam's hand. Sam held him tightly as he rode out his orgasm. A few more thrust and Sam was calling out his name, filling him with his release. Utterly spent, Frodo felt his body go limp. Sam caught him and lowered them both to the ground. He pulled a blanket over them both and they laid there together, bodies still entwined.

Every trace of Sauron was gone from Frodo's mind and body, the ring no more than a band of metal. All he felt was warmth, lightness, and joy.

"I love you," Sam said, gazing at Frodo with complete adoration.

Frodo's heart swelled, and the reply fell from his lips as though it were the most natural thing in the world; "I love you too." Then he closed his eyes and fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Sam watched Frodo's sleeping face with utter contentment; he could never get tired of looking at him. He could hardly believe that he'd found so much happiness in the midst of such a dark time, or that such a beautiful person as Frodo actually loved him.

As Sam gazed down at Frodo, a sudden chill filled the air. He shivered and pulled the blanket closer around them. Had the dark of night always felt this oppressive? He shivered again, and all at once he became conscious of a deep unease growing in his mind. The quiet forest suddenly felt menacing, and a dark surge built up in his gut. He shuddered, feeling a painful tingle over his whole body. His memories of home were growing faint, and he'd never felt so alone.

Sam realized he was clutching the ring in his fist and dropped it as though it burned. Understanding hit him; the rings power, having been driven out of Frodo, had now passed into him. Sorrow filled Sam's heart, not for his own suffering, but for Frodo's. He knew how it felt now. But he didn't regret what they had done. Sam wanted a way to share the burden, and if this was the cost, he'd bear it gladly. He clutched Frodo more tightly in his arms and settled into uneasy rest.