Set at Minas Tirith a week after the destruction of the one ring:
It had been one long week since the events at the cracks of mount doom and although Frodo still felt a dull throbbing pain in his right hand and a void in his heart that he was quite sure had not existed before the destruction of the ring, he definitely felt better for his stay in the great tower that is Minas Tirith, at least in body. In mind, Frodo had become restless and frustrated and, truth be told, more than a little horny. He kept telling himself his inexplicable urge to get up in the middle of the night and share a bed within his faithful servants arms, those arms that had held him so passionately just a week hence, must be some strange psychological defect that came as a result of losing something so precious to him…so precious.
Frodo and Sam now bathed alone in one of the large baths that Frodo praised the citadel for. It felt so good to be cleansed of the grime and dirt that comes of trudging though the snows of Cadahras, the dank filth of Moria and the fouled baron wasteland that is the Morgul vale. If someone had told him, back then in the pit of despair when not a glimmer of hope could be seen and thoughts of embracing death seemed a friendly option, that they would be enjoying a leisurely bath, scented with strawberry soap suds Frodo would probably have laughed until Sam was forced to hit him on the head with a large boulder. As it happened no one told them, which made the luxury of the moment so much more satisfying.
As Sam now emerged from the water Frodo began to think strange thoughts once more and it wasn't until a bashful, red-faced Sam spurted out
"Begging your pardon Frodo, but the water is getting cold and a nice warm towel awaits you," did Frodo realise that he was staring. Frodo immediately shut his mouth and he too extracted himself from the water. As Sam dried himself Frodo surveyed his burly friend, those lean muscles, that dark skin brought on from years of gardening back in the shire. As far as Hobbits went, Sam was not fat, yet he was nowhere near as thin as Frodo who had faded rapidly during his exposure to the ring. In Frodos mind Sam was just perfect, even his coils of fat precariously balance on each hip
Something to hold onto in the bedroom thought Frodo then, realising what he had just imagined scolded himself for such thoughts.
As Sam and Frodo went into the adjacent rooms to dress Frodo thought longingly back to a week before and thought perhaps an entanglement with Sam may not be such a bad thing after all. Back then as molten rock spewed from every orifice, Sam had somehow changed. The impending doom had brought out a streak in Sam that at the time seemed quite ridiculous yet given a week to stew now constantly played on Frodo's mind. He remembered the beat of Sam's heart as he held Frodo in his arms, the unbearable heat making them sweat and adding to the passion of the moment. In fact, if the eagles had not shown up when they did Frodo was quite sure Sam would have kissed him.
Days later an extremely embarrassed Sam had apologised claiming he was just being silly.
That settled it. He would not sit back and do nothing about these overwhelming feelings. These thoughts in mind, Frodo forced himself to approach the now semi-naked Sam. Sam looked confused as Frodo took his calloused hands into his own. "Remember just before the eagles came?" asked Frodo sounding more confident than he felt. Sam thought for a moment then replied "How can I forget?" he tried to laugh as if joking yet the seriousness persevered.
"Well I don't think you were being silly at all," and with that Frodo enwrapped Sam. Sam ,startled, took only a second to relax into the kiss. Frodo felt a knot loosen as Sam's gentle hands explored and tasted the warm strawberry scented dampness of Sam's mouth. Has he been eating soap bubbles again thought Frodo with a grin? Engrossed in each other Frodo hardly noticed as they fumbled onto the overly large bed (at least for hobbits). Frodo let his hands travel downwards. Now, it is commonly known amongst the large folk in Bree that Hobbits are small creature with large feet. What is less known is that these large feet are an indication of other large parts of Hobbit anatomy. This is definitely the case with Sam thought Frodo with a smirk as he did unspeakable things to Sam's hobbit hood.
Suddenly a thought occurred to Frodo, well not really a thought, more of an idea. Thinking of the elven lace scarves a very rambunctious Galadriel had given a very naive Sam he whispered in his friend's ear "wanna do something fun?"
"But master Frodo…" began a mumbling Sam but Frodo silenced him with a kiss. It had been a long time since Sam had adopted this servile role, referring to him as master Frodo' and now Frodo decide it may be fun to play a little game of master and servant so he let the bumbling Sam continue…