Frodo closed the door with a sigh, pausing to rest his head against the cool wood. He had just seen the last of his Yule-party guests off: his excitable cousins Merry and Pippin. While he enjoyed their company - they did much to liven up the peaceful life he led in Bag End - the quiet that followed their departure was equally as desirable. It had been a long year, Frodo reflected as he turned to press his back against the door and slid down to the ground. Following Uncle Bilbo's disappearance and his own coming of age, in the past few months Frodo had taken on many of the duties that came with being the master of Bag End, responsibilities that had previously been ignored in favor of gallivanting across one end of the Shire to the next.

"Mister Frodo, sir?" came a quiet voice from up above him. Frodo opened his eyes to regard Sam, his gardener and best friend, who was standing a few paces away with his hands clasped behind his back while shifting from foot to foot.

"What is it, Sam?" he asked, smiling gently at the younger hobbit. Sam had been a blessing to him in the wake of Bilbo's departure, practically moving in to Bag End to look after Frodo and see that he was taking care of himself.

"Do you want me to wash the dishes now or wait until morning?" Sam's voice jolted Frodo from his memories.

"Leave them," he said, scrambling to his feet and extending one of his hands. Sam stared at it uncomprehendingly. "Will you join me by the fire, Sam? It's such a cold night out, and the snow makes for a very pretty picture. I'd like to share a few moments of peace with you."

"That's very kind of you, sir," Sam started to say, "And I appreciate the gesture. But I really should be getting home now. The Gaffer will be expecting me."

"Of course," Frodo replied, and he could feel his face fall. "It's just... I didn't want to be alone. And the snow's coming down so hard... I'm sure your Gaffer would understand if you spent a little more time here, at least until the snow clears up."

Sam was torn: on the one hand, he had a duty to his beloved master - Frodo clearly required some company - yet he greatly desired to see his family. In the end, though, attending to Frodo's needs won. Not that electing to stay with Frodo was such a great sacrifice; the elder hobbit was Sam's friend, as well as his master, and Sam enjoyed spending time with him. In a daring move, he reached for Frodo's hand, which had fallen to his side at Sam's initial rejection.

"I'd be glad to stay, sir... if you really want me to, that is," he whispered, and was overjoyed to see Frodo's face light up like the stars in heaven. Sam beamed back at his master and let Frodo lead the way into the parlor.

"Here," said Frodo, gesturing for Sam to sit in the armchair by the fire and holding out a blanket to wrap himself in once he was settled.

"But, sir..." Sam started to protest.

"Shh," Frodo held a single finger up against Sam's lips to silence him. "Please, Sam - for tonight, at least, I am simply Frodo. And I've asked you, as my friend - not my servant - to keep me company."

Sam's shoulders slumped, and he acquiesced to Frodo's request, taking a seat in the comfortable armchair and allowing for Frodo to tuck the edges of the blanket around him. Frodo left the room for a moment, and when he returned, he was carrying two steaming mugs filled to the brim with hot chocolate. He handed one to Sam before settling himself on the floor at Sam's feet.

"Sir..." Sam opened his mouth to object to Frodo's chosen seat. It wasn't right for the master to lower himself to a mere servant. The floor was Sam's place; Mister Frodo belonged in the chair that Sam had usurped from him.

A hand on Sam's knee silenced any further protestations. "Please, Sam - not tonight," Frodo begged. "Tomorrow, we can go back to normal: you as my servant and me as your master. But for tonight - just this once, at least - let me serve you."

Sam reached out with one hand and began to stroke Frodo's ebony curls. "As you wish," Sam whispered.

Frodo patted Sam's knee and craned his head around to smile at him. "Thank you, my friend," he replied.

They fell into silence after that, contentedly sipping at their hot chocolate as they watched the snow fall in the lane outside the window. The moon shone on the whitened ground while candlelight flickered from the tree in the corner, throwing into sharp relief the bows, garlands and other Yuletide decorations that Frodo and Sam had placed around the smial.

"It was a good Yule, wasn't it?" asked Sam at last.

"Yes, Sam," said Frodo. "It was. And thanks, in large part, to your efforts."

"Mine, sir?" asked Sam, bewildered.

"This was my first Yule without Bilbo," Frodo began, softly but intently. "Yet you never let me dwell on what I had lost. Rather, you forced me to acknowledge my many blessings - chiefly which has been you, my dear Sam."

"Me, sir?" Sam squeaked.

"Yes - you," said Frodo, setting down his cup and rising to his knees before turning to face Sam. Placing his hands on either side of Sam, he leaned in close so that they were staring directly in each other's eyes. "I take you and your service for granted, Sam," he went on, bowing his head momentarily in shame. "But this Yule has made me appreciate you all the more. Thank you." He leaned further in so that their faces were now almost touching.

"Frodo..." Sam whispered. He felt trapped by Frodo's proximity; he couldn't even move his arms or legs. But he wouldn't have traded his position for all the pipe-weed in the Shire.

"Is this alright?" asked Frodo, overcome by a sudden bout of insecurity. He didn't want to do anything that would upset Sam, nor did he want Sam to feel obligated to respond to his advances simply because he was Frodo's servant. Sam found that any words he might have spoken were frozen in his throat; all he could do was nod. Apparently, that was enough encouragement for Frodo to close the distance between them and gently brush their lips together.

Although Sam would never admit it - certainly not to Frodo - he had fantasized about this moment many times, wondering what it would be like to kiss his master. Sam could now attest to the fact that reality was much better than his dreams. Frodo's lips were soft against his own, which were slightly chapped from working long days in the garden and going without proper lubrication. Frodo's caress was hardly demanding, yet Sam felt compelled to respond with equal passion. Frodo's arms wrapped around Sam's back and pulled him forwards until he was kneeling on the ground level with Frodo, while the blanket was tangled up between their bodies.

"I don't want you to marry Rosie," whispered Frodo, pulling away only to bury his head in the crook of Sam's neck so that his voice was muffled.

"I don't want to marry her either, Frodo," said Sam, his brow furrowing in confusion as he puzzled over the notion that Mister Frodo seemed to have fixed in his head. "Where'd you get an idea like that, begging your pardon?"

"You've seemed partial to her for a while now," said Frodo, drawing back and sliding his hands up and down Sam's braces while refusing to meet his gaze. "And then you danced with her at Bilbo's party. At my own insistence, I know -" he hastened to add when he sensed that Sam might object to the way he had phrased that particular statement. "But you didn't seem to mind, and I thought it was only a matter of time before you settled down with her and started to raise a family of your own - a family that I can't provide you with."

"No offense, Frodo, but that's just silly," said Sam, cupping Frodo's chin in one hand and slowly raising his face so that their eyes were level. "A family don't matter none to me. You are the only family I could ever ask for - or want, for that matter. I love you, Frodo, if it's not too bold for me to say so."

"I love you, too, Sam," said Frodo, stroking the smooth sun-kissed skin of Sam's cheek with the pad of his thumb, smiling tenderly at him all the while. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Sam's forehead, before trailing kisses down either side of his face and across the bridge of his nose; Frodo even paused to kiss Sam's fluttering eyelashes. Finally, though, he arrived at Sam's lips, which were left rosy and swollen from being kissed so thoroughly.

Sam raised his hands to frame Frodo's face, brushing away a stray curl in the meantime and dabbing at Frodo's eyes that were glistening with unshed tears at a previously-unrequited love suddenly being realized. He paused to just take in the love radiating from his master's - no, his lover's eyes, and felt an uprising of tenderness swell in his breast for this most exquisite of hobbits. He leaned forward and pressed their lips together again, his first time initiating contact since Frodo had confessed his love with a kiss.

"I want you, Frodo," he whispered, breathing heavily from the excitement building within him. "I-I need you - please."

"As you wish, my dear Sam," said Frodo with a grin as he briefly pecked Sam's lips before pulling out the forgotten blanket from between their bodies and spreading it in front of the fireplace. Reaching over and around Sam's head, he grabbed a few cushions from the chair and threw those down on top of the blanket - for their comfort, as he explained to Sam.

Taking Sam's hands in his, Frodo shuffled backwards until there was enough space for him to lay Sam down on the ground. He hovered over the excited hobbit, simply taking the time to stare into Sam's eyes and memorize this moment and how it felt to know that he was loved by Sam and that he was about to make love to Sam. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to Sam's and took that opportunity to enjoy the pleasurable thrill that went down his spine at the first instant when their clothed erections brushed together. Sam gasped, and his eyes shot open at the strange new sensations assaulting his body; but Frodo merely soothed him with whispered reassurances and a gentle touch to his flushed cheeks.

"Everything's alright, Sam," said Frodo. "We don't have to do anything more than just lie here - if that's what you want."

"No, no - I want to go all the way with you," Sam hastened to assure him. "It's just... I've never done anything like this before - not even with a lass - and I'm scared of disappointing you."

"Oh, Sam," sighed Frodo before bending his head down to bestow a sweet and tender kiss on Sam's plump lips. "You could never disappoint me; I love you just the way you are. But I'm glad to hear that I'll be your first."

"And my last," Sam stated firmly. "There's no one in all of Middle-earth can compare to you, Frodo. And there won't be anyone else for me - not ever."

At Sam's declaration, Frodo kissed him hard on the mouth, crushing their lips together almost desperately. When he pulled away, both hobbits were breathing heavily from the force of the kiss.

"For so long, I thought that it was my fate to remain a bachelor," said Frodo, who was speaking against Sam's neck, having collapsed on top of his sturdy body. "I thought I'd live and die alone. But now, Sam... now, you've given me hope for my future - one that I see myself sharing with you."

"I'd like that, Frodo," Sam replied, smiling as if he could see the future that Frodo was talking about. "I'd like that very much."

"Good, I'm glad," said Frodo, squeezing Sam's shoulder and pressing a kiss to his neck. "We'll make it happen, Samwise Gamgee - I promise you."

Frodo now rolled on top of Sam again, slowly undoing the buttons of his work shirt and kissing each spot that he exposed, until Sam was practically writhing underneath him, bucking his hips and coming close to unseating Frodo. Latching on to Sam's wrists, Frodo pinned his hands up above his head and stared intently into his eyes.

"If I let go, can you be still?" he asked. Sam nodded frantically, and Frodo was inclined to believe him. "Good; I need to release your braces. Can you take off your shirt when I'm done?" Again, Sam nodded, and Frodo freed his wrists.

Working together, the two hobbits hurriedly shed their upper garments, each helping the other to undress. Finally, Sam lay back down, Frodo on top of him; and they were both nearly undone at the feeling of bare skin pressed against bare skin for the first time.

"Sam..." Frodo gasped as he fingered the coarse hair coating Sam's chest that was brushing against his own hairless chest. Though a somewhat experienced lover, he had never felt this strongly for any other hobbit before - and he wanted more. Whatever this encounter with Sam turned in to, Frodo wanted it to last.

"Frodo..." Sam returned his master's delighted gasp as he felt heat pool in his belly and shoot straight to his groin, further enlarging his already-excited member, which was pressing against the front of his trousers and poking determinedly into Frodo's hip.

Snaking a hand down between their bodies, Frodo fumbled with the laces to his and Sam's breeches, which were tangled together due to their close proximity. His hands trembled from nerves, and he froze in place the moment he felt Sam tense up.

"Is this alright?" he asked worriedly.

In response, Sam merely shifted his hips slightly so that their erections were more directly aligned; in this position, Frodo was unable to deny Sam's invested interest.

"I'll hurry it up, then, shall I?" asked Frodo with a wry grin, pausing to briefly kiss Sam on the lips before returning to his task. In short order, Frodo had their laces undone and both of their breeches were bunched around their knees. Frodo kicked his off before helping Sam to remove his. He then sat back to admire Sam, who was spread out before him like a picnic: his for the taking; all he had to do was pick and choose.

But Frodo wasn't that crude. He valued Sam; he worshipped him; he adored him. He would go to the ends of Middle-earth to ensure Sam's safety. Crawling forward on his hands and knees until he was once more perched over Sam, Frodo proceeded to ravish his mouth before peppering kisses all over his body. When Sam attempted to return the favor, Frodo withdrew, restraining Sam and stilling his own movements.

"Tonight is about your pleasure, dearest Sam, not mine," Frodo whispered softly, and Sam had no choice but to submit to his lover's relentless assault that left his body in the throes of passion without relief.

Frodo reached blindly for one of the many cubbyholes situated around the fireplace, one of which contained a vial of oil that Frodo had made use of on several occasions, though only when Bilbo had been out of the smial, most often visiting Elves and occasionally Dwarves. His hand once more returned to Sam's line of sight, and Sam could see what Frodo had been reaching for. He held Frodo's hand in his and brought his wrist to his lips, kissing the delicate appendage as though it might break.

"I know I'm not your first," he whispered, "And that don't matter to me - not really. I'm just happy to have you in any way that I can for as long as you'll have me."

"There will never be another for me, Sam," whispered Frodo. "No one but you will ever hold my heart so completely enraptured. It's you I have loved all along, and it's you I will continue to love for the rest of my existence."

"Oh, Frodo," Sam sighed, smiling shyly up at the waif-like creature balanced above him. Raising his arms to wrap them around Frodo, he held the other hobbit close to his breast, cradling Frodo's head in the crook of his neck as he kissed the elder hobbit's brow. "I love you," he whispered, his breath tickling the sensitive earlobe and sending shivers down Frodo's spine.

Holding the vial of oil aloft, Frodo inclined his head as though asking a question, to which Sam nodded eagerly. Frodo poured a small amount of the oil into his palm, spreading it evenly before lowering his oil-slickened hands to Sam's body. Sam shivered when he first felt the oil trickle down his thighs - and then one of Frodo's fingers was at his entrance and Sam forgot all about the oil. Frodo was very gentle with him, slowly easing his index finger inside up to the first knuckle until Sam had grown accustomed to the intrusion, and then sliding his finger further up and further in. Sam gasped in pleasure and wriggled with delight as he tried to take more of Frodo inside him. Frodo just laughed, his eyes sparkling merrily in the firelight, and inserted another finger and another until he was convinced that Sam could easily accept his entire length.

Withdrawing his fingers from Sam's pliant body, Frodo once more coated his palm in oil and began to stroke his own arousal, leaving himself on the brink of release. Sam was watching him with avid interest, his lips slightly parted as he stared openly at his master's considerable length - perhaps not as thick as his own, Sam thought, but Frodo was still well-endowed. At that moment, though, Frodo happened to look up, and Sam blushed at being caught staring. He tried to turn away, but Frodo wouldn't let him, instead tilting his flushed face forwards again and smiling tenderly at him. It had been a while since he had made love to someone as innocent and inexperienced as Sam, but he still remembered the nervousness and uncertainty he had felt his first time, and the care his partner had taken to treasure him and treat him as though he mattered.

"It's alright," he whispered reassuringly as he brushed a stray curl out of Sam's face. "You're safe with me. I'll take care of you."

Sam didn't respond, but his eyes spoke of his implicit trust as he guided Frodo's head down to connect their lips, accepting Frodo's tongue into his mouth as readily as he had accepted Frodo's fingers into his body.

"Keep going, me-dear," he said when they finally drew apart to breathe. "I'm ready."

Nodding once, Frodo glanced down briefly to align his shaft with Sam's entrance. Slowly, ever-so slowly, he eased himself inside, taking his time since the length that Sam would be accepting was a bit more substantial than his fingers. Sam's breath hitched; despite the foreknowledge he had possessed, he was nonetheless unprepared for the sudden pain that accompanied his penetration by Frodo. He could feel his heart rate increase and the blood pump through his veins as he fought every instinct that told him to reject the foreign object currently working its way up his arse. But then he looked at Frodo's angelic face, and all was right with his world. Frodo was looking intently at him, concern evident in his eyes, but Sam simply forced his lips to curve upwards, forming a smile that did little to reassure Frodo. So Sam kissed him instead. At that moment, Frodo brushed against Sam's prostate - and Sam saw stars, bigger and brighter than any of Gandalf's fireworks. He moaned aloud. Frodo seemed to sense what had occurred, as he proceeded to aim for that particular spot again and again, while at the same time stroking Sam's straining erection with an expert twist of his wrist and leaving behind a glistening trail of oil.

"Master Frodo..." Sam gasped seconds before achieving his release, riding wave after wave of passion in a spectacular release that coated both of their bellies, in addition to Frodo's hand.

Frodo followed soon after, spilling his seed within Sam before collapsing on top of the sturdy hobbit, his energy having been completely spent. "That was amazing," he whispered, planting a kiss at the base of Sam's throat. "Now that I've had a taste of loving you, I don't think I ever want to stop."

"I have to go home eventually, Frodo," Sam pointed out to him.

"Why?" asked Frodo petulantly, raising his head slightly to look into Sam's eyes. "Why not move in to Bag End with me? You practically live here, anyway. This would make our relationship official and shoot down any rumors that hobbits like the Sackville-Bagginses might start about you and me. Then we'd be free to do as we please; we could make love at any time of the night or day, and no one would be the wiser... not that it makes any difference to me, you understand, if we were discovered. I love you, and I don't care if the whole of the Middle-earth knows it."

"You really mean that, Frodo?" asked Sam in disbelief. "I'm not just another one of your 'conquests,' then?"

"Sweet Eru - no!" exclaimed Frodo. "You are more precious to me than Smaug's entire horde of treasure, Samwise Gamgee. I want us to spend the rest of our lives together, loving each other and being the best of friends. However you want me, Sam, I'm yours."

"Then I want you forever, Master Frodo," Sam whispered softly, raising a hand to reverently brush a curl from out of Frodo's face. "Will you be mine?"

"Only if you'll be mine," Frodo replied. By now, he had unsheathed himself from Sam, though he remained balanced above the younger hobbit, bare skin pressed against bare skin.

"I guess that's that, then," said Sam, using his considerable strength to shift Frodo off of him, yet keeping him nestled in the safety of his arms. Frodo gladly acquiesced, snuggling as close as he possibly could into Sam's side and letting Sam's warmth envelope him as he rested his head on Sam's shoulder.

"Love you, Sam," he murmured quietly, the haze of sleep already stealing over him.

"I love you, too, Frodo," said Sam, pressing a kiss to the top of Frodo's head before briefly resting his cheek in the same spot, then pulling one of the spare blankets over their naked bodies as he thought about how they would both be in desperate need of a bath the next day.


Sometime later that night, when the fire was nothing more than a pile of dying embers, Sam awoke to a disturbance nearby. Frodo was struggling against some invisible foe in his sleep, limbs flailing wildly about as he whimpered, tears leaking down his pale cheeks from behind closed eyelids. A brief glance outside the parlor window revealed that it was pitch-black, though Sam could make out the faint outline of snow falling softly on the ground.

"Frodo," Sam called, shaking him slightly, but to no avail. Carefully, he crawled on top of Frodo and pinned his wrists in place, then shook him with a bit more force. Frodo's eyes snapped open at that, darting from side to side before settling on Sam.

"Sam," he cried, surging upwards and wrapping his arms securely around Sam's neck, clinging to him desperately.

Sam just held him tightly as he laid them both back down. Frodo continued to tremble and shake within the confines of his arms for quite some time, before his motions eventually stilled and Sam could feel the tension drain from his body.

"It was so dark... and cold... and I was all alone," said Frodo at last, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm here; I'll always be here," Sam murmured reassuringly as he continued to stroke Frodo's hair with one hand and rub his back with the other. "Your Sam won't let any harm come to you - I promise."