A/N: Holy crap. I feel so freaking bad. I know I said I'd update this final part...but I forgot about it. I've had to deal with school work, exams, college searches and scholarship applications...but that's not an excuse. Im' on the internet every night...I should know better. Thanks so very very much to Your Mom's Face for messaging me and threatening me bodily harm. And thank's to those woderful people who've reviewed. :D Loves and kisses to you all. Nfinity

P.S. This chapter is most definitely a lemon. ;) There should be a warning of strong sexual content and it's not sutiable for so and so etc, etc. So...there's the warning. Enjoy. >:)

Chapter 3

Days passed and the weather continued to be unnaturally dreary. The storm had subsided to a steady rain, causing farmers and gardeners everywhere to sit in alehouses, grumbling amongst themselves about their crops and gardens being flooded. Frodo didn't mind it; the weather was suiting his mood. Time cloistered inside gave him time to think about his conversation a week ago with Pippin, and the last words Pippin had said. Are you sure that's what Sam wants? The question had been spinning around in his mind, bothering him, daring him to figure out the answer. You'll never know unless you ask, a secret, hopeful voice kept telling him. He ignored it. He'd been down that road before. No amount of longing would make him bare his heart on his sleeve like he'd done before.

He was sitting at the window, watching the rainfall, deep in his musings, when Sam came in, completely soaked and mumbling to himself.

"There ain't nothing for it, Mr. Frodo," he said, drying himself off with a towel. "If this rain doesn't stop, my flowers will die"
Frodo turned to Sam and felt the accustomed lurch of his heart. The worry and fear in Sam's eyes made him smile.

"Don't worry, Sam, I'm sure the rain will stop before that happens." He watched the towel make its passes on Sam's skin,
filling his eyes with the vision of wet Sam before turning back to the window. "You'll see, it'll stop."

By mid-afternoon the rain did trickle down to only a drizzle, and the general mood of Bag End lightened. After a good supper, Frodo and Sam sat in the living room in front of the empty hearth, Frodo reading out of a book, and Sam puffing lightly on his pipe.

"Tomorrow I'll have to go out and weigh up the damage, I suppose," Sam mused, accenting the remark with a puff of his pipe. Frodo nodded absently, sneaking peeks at his gardener. He knew it was childish, but he couldn't help himself. He /needed/ to fill his eyes with Sam's hard country beauty. Hard muscles, hidden beneath a thin layer of hobbit fat, that strained and bulged with hard work, creamy skin that tanned in summer and turned pale in winter, sandy hair that varied shades with the different seasons and warm, nut brown eyes that shone with a sharper intelligence than many gave him credit for, Sam was nothing if not beautiful.

"Mr. Frodo?" Frodo was startled out of his daydream by Sam's uncertain question. He looked over at Sam's worried face and frowned.

"What is it Sam?" Sam opened his mouth and closed it, clearly trying to find the right thing to say.

"Well," he said slowly, and hesitantly, Frodo noticed. "I want, I /need/ to tell you something." He shook his head. "You probably don't want to hear it, though." Frodo closed the book he hadn't really been reading and set it aside, giving Sam his full attention.

"What is it, Sam? Whatever it is, you know you can tell me." Sam nodded, but still looked unsure. Frodo reached over and touched Sam's hand reassuringly. "I won't turn away from anything you have to say, Sam." Sam nodded again, looking a little surer.

"I well, I've been wanting to tell you for the longest time, Frodo, about—" Sam blushed. "Well, I suppose the best way to say it is just to say it, but it's not proper, you see, and I don't know how you feel." He took a deep breath and let out in a great whoosh, "Frodo, I think that I love you. I mean, I know I do and it's okay if you don't feel the same, it's just, I can't bear to keep it secret anymore." Sam stopped when he saw Frodo smiling, chuckling even.

"Oh, my Sam," he said softly, light coming into his eyes. "There are so many things you don't know." He got up and walked to Sam, crouching beside him, his hand on Sam's arm. "Oh, blast what's proper, Sam. I love you too. I was so afraid you'd reject me, that I kept my peace for years now, ever since you were a young tween." His eyes were shining and he smiled at Sam's equally bewildered and comprehending expression. Frodo continued, confessing about his dreams and the reasons behind his fear and of his long-hidden love. He watched Sam take it all in and revelled as Sam wiped away the tears that were trickling down Frodo's face, sorrow and joy mixed in those droplets. Once purged of all the fear and doubt and pain he'd hidden for so long, Frodo felt better than he'd felt in many weeks.

"Frodo," Samwhispered reverently. One look into Sam's eyes and Frodo stood, beckoning Sam to follow him. He led him into his room, closing the door behind him. He turned and was enveloped in those strong arms, warm lips pressing against the sensitive skin of his throat. He moaned, feeling the reverberations on Sam's lips and gently extricated himself before things got /too/ out of hand. He smiled, nervous in front of his love-soon-to-be-lover. "Let's take it slow, for the moment, Sam," he said breathlessly, feeling his presence even though he was more than a few inches away. Frodo closed the gap between them and hesitantly brought his lips to Sam's. Sam wrapped his arms around Frodo, pulling him as close as possible, and Frodo wanted to be close to him. The kiss turned passionate and Sam, taking the initiative, began to maneuver Frodo towards the bed. Sam kept deepening the kiss, exploring the cavern of Frodo's mouth with his tongue, delving deep and causing Frodo to moan into his mouth. The backs of his knees hit the bed and, without breaking the kiss, Sam gently lowered Frodo down, still holding him tight. Frodo hissed through his teeth as Sam's bulk pressed against his very obvious erection and he felt an answering bulge. "Oh, Sam," Sam's mouth moved from his mouth to his cheeks, his eyes, his ears. His tongue flicked out against the shell of Frodo's pointed ear and he shuddered, shifting against Sam and consequently rubbing their erections together.

Frodo soon decided that this was too slow and took matters into his own hands, so to speak, flipping Sam over skilfully and sitting on his hips, one leg on each side of him. Sam's wide-eyed look of surprise soon turned to a sultry look as Frodo rocked his hips purposefully, to get his point across. Frodo leaned forward and his deft scholar's fingers made short work of Sam's smaller shirt buttons and soon Sam was shirtless and flushing under the heat of Frodo's hungry gaze. Frodo realized that Sam was completely at his mercy and that thought made him giddy. He also realized though, that if Sam wanted to, he could flip Frodo over effortlessly and have his way with him. That thought was appealing.

"I want to see you," Sam said, his voice low and husky. He reached up and undid the buttons on Frodo's shirt and Frodo pulled it back, revealing his pale chest. Sam leaned up and ran his hands over his master's chest, his lips and tongue following behind his fingertips. Frodo's groans and soft exclamations told Sam he was doing the right thing. Frodo bucked his hips and Sam groaned, the need plain in his voice. Frodo got up, leaving Sam laying there spread eagle. When he returned he was completely naked, a bottle with clear liquid in one hand. Sam gasped and Frodo blushed.

"Oh, Frodo," Sam breathed. "You're so beautiful." Sam's reverent tone made Frodo blush further and he bent down, slowly trailing his long fingers down Sam's golden chest to the top of his breeches, slowly undoing the buttons, licking his lips in anticipation. He pulled Sam's breeches off and now Sam was flushed, exposed to the world and Frodo's dark blue eyes glittering with love and lust. Frodo softly touched Sam there, in that most private place, gently stroking his length. A shuddering moan came from Sam's parted lips and Frodo pulled his hand away, making Sam whimper in protest. He loved this new sensation, feeling as though they had all the time in the world to explore and love each other. But Frodo's own pressing need belied that sentiment. He uncorked the bottle and poured some of the cold liquid onto his hand. He touched Sam again, smearing the oil up and down his length, teasing Sam just a little, eliciting soft cries and pleading moans and exclamations of love. He stopped and handed the bottle to Sam who looked confused through the haze of heat.

"I want you to make love to me Sam," Frodo breathed. The haze left his eyes and he blushed, his eyes widening, the brown almost obscured by the dilated pupils.

"But, Frodo, I… I've never, what if it hurts you?" Sam stumbled over his words and finally stopped as Frodo put his finger to Sam's lips.

"I know it'll hurt at first, dear Sam," he said in a calm voice. "But it's what I want." His eyes pleaded with Sam, whose conviction was wavering rapidly. "Don't make me beg, Samwise Gamgee." But he was begging and Frodo knew that Sam's inhibition was slipping away and he smiled softly. "I want to feel you… inside me." Those words, and the earnestness and need in Frodo's voice, completely shattered any protest Sam might have voice and he groaned, tipping the bottle over and spilling the oil on his hand. He touched Frodo's erection, softly, as if petting a kitten, and then reached lower, stroking his balls and then proceeding even lower. A soft hiss accompanied the intrusion and Sam stopped as he saw the slight flicker of pain on Frodo's face.

"Don't stop, Sam, I'll be alright." He continued moving his finger and he nearly stopped again when Frodo let out a hiss of surprise, and he shifted, causing Sam's finger to brush a hard spot again and Frodo moaned. Sam, apt student that he was, inserted a second finger, making sure to hit that spot as much as possible, to insure that the pain was outweighed by the pleasure in Frodo's voice. A third finger stretched Frodo enough and Sam withdrew after a few minutes, to mewling protests from a sweaty, flushed Frodo. He readied himself and, at Frodo's nod, entered him. The discomfort quickly vanished as Frodo got used to the sensation and he shifted, indicating that Sam could start moving. They quickly found a suitable pace and their passions mounted. Frodo felt like he'd never felt before, the pleasure and knowledge that this was /Sam/ making him feel this good, this was his love giving him all of this pleasure sending him over the edge, unable to get back to the real world, and he gasped, crying Sam's name over and over in a hoarse husky shout, and released, spilling his seed between them. Sam continued moving, holding Frodo's hips with strong, calloused hands and moving him at a steady paced. Soon after Frodo had climaxed, he too released, filling Frodo with his seed, with his passion, and with his love.

They lay together, panting for breath, one breathing in as the other breathed out, so that it seemed they were sharing life, sharing their souls with one another. Frodo was the first to recover and he slid off of Sam, curling up against Sam's side and covering them both with a cool sheet.

"Oh my Sam," he sighed, more content than he could ever remember feeling in his life. "I love you so much." Sam smiled and curled his fingers in Frodo's damp hair.

"I love you too, Frodo. Always have and always will." They drifted off to sleep together, the drizzle outside stopping and the grey clouds that had hovered, swollen and discontent, moved away, revealing a gorgeous sunset of violet and mauve, gold and azure, and the last rays of the sun warming their heads as they slept.

FIN