Chapter 2

Sam sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes shining. He touched Frodo's cheek with his rough hand. Frodo closed his eyes, shivering at the touch.

"Oh, Mr. Frodo, I love you so," whispered Sam, gazing at Frodo with ill- disguised longing.

"I love you too, Sam. I always have," said Frodo softly, taking Sam's chin into his hands. "I was just too silly to realize."

Sam looked at him happily. Frodo drank in Sam's beautiful features. He kissed Sam lightly on the lips: a butterfly's touch. His kissed Sam delicately on the neck, and again, all the way down to his collar. His skin smelt like soap and felt like silk. Frodo heard a noise and realized with pleasure it was a slow moan from the back of Sam's throat.

Sam wriggled his hips to move closer to Frodo. Their knees were touching. Frodo felt amazed. Was this really happening? Was he really in the arms of the loveliest creature he had ever laid eyes upon? For so long he had thought about this moment...

A rush of desire now filled Frodo and he kissed Sam again, a little harder this time. Frodo felt Sam move his hips again, but not because he wanted to change position. He traced Sam's face with his fingertips. He touched Sam's sun-kissed nose, his thick eyebrows, and his pointy ears. Sam had a little dirt on his cheek and he rubbed it off delicately, leisurely...teasingly. Frodo felt fascinated by every part of Sam. He wanted to examine every inch of his skin; his bumps, tiny hairs...everything. Frodo outlined Sam's full lips with his finger. He looked at Sam with surprise as he opened his mouth. Sam flicked his tongue out to touch the tip of Frodo's finger. A bolt of lightening seemed to shoot through his body.

Sam was *licking* his finger.

Sam looked at him from underneath his dark eyelashes and smiled, a smile of utter love and desire. "Lie down, sir," he said so quietly Frodo could barely hear.

Frodo obediently lay on the bed, anticipation sending delightful shudders from his toes to his fingertips. Sam let his eyes linger down Frodo's body for a moment, before he moved to Frodo's feet. Frodo tensed as Sam stroked his feet, a place which was sensitive to hobbits. Sam slowly drew his fingers through the soft hairs, straightening the curls out. Frodo gripped the bed sheets tightly, feeling a moan growl in his throat. Now Sam began to softly lick the soles of his leathery feet.

"Aaahhhhh!" cried Frodo, closing his eyes tightly in delight.

Sam continued to caress his tongue over Frodo's toes and through the delicate hairs. "Sam, uhhhh, Sam, please!" he couldn't help crying out.

Sam looked at him and smiled. He slowly drew his adorable mouth up Frodo, past his ankles then his knees to his thighs. Never did Sam's eyes leave Frodo's. Sam's mouth lingered for a moment on Frodo's groin that had expanded considerably. Sam's eyes danced mischievously. He flicked his tongue out and gently ran his tongue over Frodo's swelling breeches.

Sam was *licking* Frodo's breeches.

Frodo felt his hips thrust involuntarily and gripped the sheets tighter. "Sam! I -- I can't take much more!" Frodo almost screamed.

Sam moved up higher, his mouth inches from Frodo's hot flesh, past his belly and thudding heart until his face was above Frodo's. Frodo stared at Sam, panting hard. Sam's teasing made him aroused than he ever imagined.

Frodo relaxed his grip of the sheets and pulled Sam down on top of him for another kiss. He felt with delight Sam's hardness pressing his thigh and his own tight against Sam's belly. Strong hands began stoking Frodo through the cloth of his breeches.

Sam was *stroking* his breeches.

Frodo moaned as a button was undone. Sam sighed loudly as Frodo's deft fingers touched his special place. Frodo felt so thrilled, he couldn't wait to see all of Sam. His fingers trembled as he pulled on Sam's breeches.

"Oh, Mr. Frodo, I love you so," Sam murmured. Suddenly Sam began to fade. Frodo clutched at him urgently. Nevertheless, he was touching nothing: he had gone.

"Sam, come back!" whimpered Frodo desperately. "Please, my love, Sam, my dear, come back!"

Frodo opened his eyes. "Mr. Frodo, wake up, Mr. Frodo," Sam was saying as he pulled back the curtains. Sam looked at Frodo, concerned. "Are you alright, sir? You were moaning in your sleep. Seems like you were havin' a nightmare?"

Frodo blushed as he remembered his dream. He definitely was not having a nightmare. "Umm, yes, I was having a nightmare." Frodo forced a laugh. "One too many stories from Bilbo I think." Frodo remembered Sam touching him, everywhere. He wished to go back to his dream, than face what he could never have.

Frodo moved uncomfortably, feeling something sticky. His nightshirt, and bedclothes were soiled. Frodo sighed. This hadn't happened since he was a tweenager. He wished Sam would stop staring at him. It gave him the feeling Sam knew what thoughts were crossing his mind.

"You did say to wake you early because today's my party," said Sam. "You said you wanted to help get everything set up all proper."

"Oh, yes, Sam. Happy birthday! Silly me, that, uh, nightmare must have affected me more than I thought. Just let me get dressed and have a bite of breakfast and I'll be right there."

Sam grinned. "That's all right, Mr. Frodo. I'll cook you up a proper breakfast and then we'll think about the party!" Sam bounded to the kitchen in a hurry, thoughts of buttered toast and crispy bacon and hot tea filling his mind.

Frodo groaned and buried his head under the blankets. Sam was thirty-three today! Surely he would be asking Rosie to be wed soon. Of course Rosie was going to be at the party. So far, since realizing the extent of his feelings for Sam, Frodo had managed to avoid seeing Rosie and Sam together. The thought of them together made him feel queasy. However, he had to attend Sam's party today. Frodo took a deep breath. He must be strong. He had to see Rosie and Sam together sometime, better get it over and done with. Frodo got out of bed and, after pulling the soiled sheets off, headed for the bath.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The party was going to be a small affair, held in Bag End as a thank you from Frodo. The Cottons and Gamgees were invited, as were Merry, Pippin and Fatty. Frodo helped Sam cook the mushroom pie and roast mutton and creamy vegetables. Frodo checked to make sure they had plenty of ale. He came back and saw Sam cutting up vegetables. Frodo watched Sam as he chopped some carrots. Sam's tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. His brown curls flopped on his forehead.

"Am I doing something wrong?" asked Sam, looking up worriedly.

"What?" said Frodo, startled. "No, why would you think that?"

"You keep staring at me, while I'm a-chopping these carrots here and I thought I was doing something wrong."

Frodo blushed. Oh, if he knew what he was thinking! "I'm sorry, Sam. I've just got a lot on my mind."

"Would you like to tell me 'bout it, sir?" asked Sam.

"No! I couldn't possibly tell you!" said Frodo hurriedly.

Sam looked hurt. "Well, if that's how you feel."

"What I meant to say is that I can't tell anybody about it, not just you. It's private...personal."

"You know you could tell me, Mr. Frodo. I won't go blabbing it to all the gossipers."

"No, Sam, it's something I'll have to deal with myself. Now, where are those onions?"

Frodo quickly left the room before he choked out a sob.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Frodo found Sam sitting under a tree in the party field. It suddenly seemed quiet; twilight was falling across the world. Sam's head was bent down. He was dressed in his best tunic and breeches. Sam looked up and Frodo smiled.

"Hullo, Sam," said Frodo. "Are you excited about tonight?"

Sam looked up nervously. "I -- A bit, I suppose."

Frodo took a package from his pocket. "I thought I'd give this to you, in private, before everyone else comes."

Sam looked excited. "Thanks, Mr. Frodo. What is it?"

Frodo laughed. "Open it silly, and find out."

Sam undid the wrapping paper. A red small box lay in his hand. It had strange writing on it, which he couldn't read. "I thought I knew my letters, sir, but I can't read these," he said.

"It is in Tengwar, isn't it pretty? It says 'Dear Sam. Have a very happy thirty-third birthday. Lo -- From Frodo.' Open the box!" Frodo had written Love Frodo, but he couldn't bring himself to say it to Sam.

Sam opened the box. A lustrous red gem gleamed inside. "Oh, Mr. Frodo, it's beautiful!" He gently scooped up the gem and looked at it carefully. It was a perfect sphere carefully chiselled by the dwarves hundreds of years before.

"It's from Smaug's hoard in the Lonely Mountain. Bilbo gave it to me and now I give it to you," Frodo said quietly.

Sam gazed at the gem in delight. "It's the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life -- except for..." his voice trailed off.

They sat by the tree in silence. Crickets chirped as the full moon rose ominously. Suddenly Sam remembered that he had a gift to give. "Here, I have a present for you too, Mr. Frodo," he said shyly. He turned around and produced a bouquet of flowers. Daffodils and roses and petunias and tulips were wrapped in gold paper. "I hope you like them."

"Oh, Sam, I love it, they're beautiful!' said Frodo, delighted. He felt his love for Sam blossom.

Sam smiled. "You should probably put them in water, Mr. Frodo, or they'll die."

"That would be a shame," Frodo murmured. He felt his cheeks turn red. Sam had obviously put a lot of thought and effort into his present. He stared into the distance, towards Bywater. Frodo found his thoughts wandering to last night's dream. He remembered Sam kissing him on the lips. Of how much he had wanted Sam. So much desire. So much need. Never to be fulfilled. Frodo stood up quickly. "I'll go put these in water," he called as he dashed off in a hurry, before Sam saw the evidence of his longing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The room was silent as the hobbits ate. A vase of flowers sat at the centre of the table. Frodo sat next to Sam and Merry, while Fatty and Pippin sat across from him. Next to Sam sat Rosie. Frodo reached for the plate of potatoes. Unfortunately, Sam was reaching for the potatoes as well. Frodo jumped as Sam's brown hand touched his. Sam quickly withdrew his hand and resumed eating, eyes down. Frodo blushed madly. Pippin elbowed Fatty.

"Are they cold?" Pippin asked Frodo innocently.

"What?" said Frodo, sinking in his seat.

Pippin grinned. "Sam's hands. You jumped higher than Mrs. Chubb when she found a frog in her kitchen when you touched his hand." Everybody had stopped eating and was watching Frodo.

Frodo suddenly very hot and flustered. He glanced at Sam, whose hand clutched a fork that was halfway to his mouth. His eyes were wide with surprise. "No, I was just surprised, that's all."

Pippin didn't give up. "And now you're blushing brighter than a tomato."

"Pippin, if you don't be quiet, I'll tell everybody about the incident with the butter," said Frodo softly.

Pippin pouted. Somebody coughed. Frodo took a long drink of ale as everybody resumed eating. When everybody had eaten all that they possibly could, Mrs. Cotton and Rosie retired to the kitchen to fetch the cake.

The Gaffer clapped Sam on the shoulders. "So, my boy," he said. "Soon you'll be wanting to find a wife to look after you."

Sam looked down, embarrassed. "I suppose so," he said faintly.

The Gaffer winked at Farmer Cotton. "I know a lovely lass who'd be willing to look after you," he said.

Farmer Cotton smiled. "Don't rush the boy. I'm sure he will choose the right lass when the time comes."

While this talk was going on, Frodo had a great gulp of ale and stared into the empty glass. He berated himself for not being able to be happy for Sam and Rosie. He put his hand in his pocket and fingered the ring. He had taken to carrying the ring around with him constantly. It brought him comfort somehow. It was...precious...to him. Suddenly, the talk died down. Frodo looked up, and found the rest of the table looking at him. He stared at them blankly.

The Gaffer looked at Frodo. "Are you all right, Mr. Frodo?" he said, "We was talkin' 'bout our Sam and Rosie lass. D'you think he'll choose her, ay?"

Frodo forced a smile, "I think Rose is one of the prettiest lasses in the Shire. She'll make a fine wife," he said truthfully. He laughed, but it sounded hollow in his ears. "I just hope he has enough time to tend to my garden and, perhaps, cook me one of his delicious suppers occasionally."

Sam looked at Frodo. "I would always have time for you, Mr. Frodo," he mumbled, clearly embarrassed by all this talk about his marriage. Was it Frodo's slightly intoxicated state or did Sam seem to be meaning more than his garden, or his table? Frodo shook his head and continued to eat slowly.

Everybody gasped as Mrs. Cotton entered the room with a large tray. On the tray was a large, round cake with lashings of cream and jam. A single candle was in the middle. Mrs. Cotton carefully placed the cake in front of Sam and lit the candle.

"Happy birthday! Happy birthday, Sam!" cried everyone.

Sam smiled and tears welled in his eyes. Frodo watched as the candlelight danced on Sam's face. He was more beautiful than ever. Frodo shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he saw Rosie looking at Sam with a radiant smile. "Make a wish!" Merry cried.

A wish. Sam looked up in surprise. "What would I wish for the most..." he mumbled. His looked at the beaming faces around him. Sam's eyes landed on Rosie...such a pretty lass.

Frodo watched with hurt as Sam gazed at Rosie. A wish...a single wish. What Frodo would give for one wish. For Sam to love him -- like he loved Sam. To not be tormented by his fantasies...to act them out. To love and be loved. Not just the physical act of lovemaking, but the little things. Like lying in bed, wrapped in each other's arms all morning. A kiss on the cheek when you got home late at night. A meaningful glance when nobody was looking. One little wish...

Frodo slumped in his chair as Sam closed his eyes and blew out the candle. He had made a wish. One little wish....

End of Chapter 2

To be continued....