The room was quiet, uncomfortably so. Frodo was warm, however, and comfortable in the large bed he woke in once more. He had doubted the events had taken place, that he had been captured, imprisoned, kissed. He'd been kissed, and by Sauron. Now that had been unexpected. The man confused him. How could someone be so cruel, so violent, merciless, yet warm and tender? Sauron could have attacked him, hurt him, raped him, killed him, at any moment, yet he… held back? Or simply didn't wish to? Thoughts swirled in the Hobbit's mind, dulling his senses. It wasn't until he went to pull the covers over his head that he noticed Sauron asleep next to him, tranquil, docile, even. One would never know this man was the monster who haunted Frodo's dreams. His designs of dominating Middle Earth, his cruelty and darkness were completely absent. All Frodo saw was a beautiful man, whose only flaw was the missing ring finger on his left hand. Curiosity tempted Frodo too swiftly, and he found himself tracing Sauron's hands, arms, and his chest (for the creature slept near-nude). His hair became translucent under the moonlight streaming through the chamber's window, his olive skin almost dewy and unmarked. He had no disfigurements, no scars. Frodo, on the other hand, was peppered with bruises and marks of varying colours, eyes sullen and skin paler than niphredils. He sat back against the pillow and hugged his knees, nuzzling his face against them. He'd noticed his blouse had been changed again; when did that happen? Escape seemed futile, especially with Sauron in the bed beside him. He had to focus on protecting the Ring. That must be his only goal now.

''I can hear you thinking, sweet thing.''

Frodo looked over his knees, across to Sauron, whose eyes were still closed. ''You think awfully loudly. Escape is a terrible option, you know you'd fail.''

''You can hear me?'' He mumbled, afraid of Sauron having heard any other thoughts of his.

''I hear everything, though I choose not to, typically. For my sanity.'' The Lord chuckled, turning over to face Frodo. ''Why don't you go back to sleep? You're in no danger.''

''I'm with you, I'm always in danger.''

Sauron laughed darkly again. ''A bold little Hobbit, aren't you.'' He brushed the hair from Frodo's eyes then positioned himself to lie in the bed below him on his stomach, arms crossed, head resting on them. ''If I'd wanted to hurt you, boy, I would have done so already, would I not? I can be very gentle when I choose to.'' His voice softened, no longer resonating throughout the chamber, yet no less regnant. ''I'd be gentle with you, too… Until you asked otherwise.'' His amber eyes met Frodo's, softened further by light blond eyelashes. Frodo thought he looked ethereal, untouchable… Hauntingly beautiful.

''Why are you toying with me like this?''

''Like what?''

As though you wish for me to be your lover. You… You're so cruel. How could anyone love you, want to lay with you? And besides, we're two men. Isn't that…''

''Unnatural? For two beautiful creatures to share their bodies, their embraces, to pleasure one another so deeply and thoroughly? My dear Frodo, I have had lovers of every form, race, creed and sex. It is no boundary to me.''

Frodo stilled, and blushed a little at the thought of someone, anyone, being laid below Sauron's bewitching form and come undone.

''But if the thought disgusts you so'', Sauron continued, ''perhaps being fucked as a woman is more agreeable? I can do that. I know of sorcery which would bend your body to my will. Change your cock to a pretty, slick cunt for both of us to enjoy. Another hole for my-''

The Hobbit shook his head violently. ''I don't want to be a girl!"

''But you do want to be fucked?''

''That's not what… You're twisting what I'm saying!''

Sauron closed his eyes, grinning.

''You never denied the desire, Halfling. Come now, stop being so coy. I can tell you're curious. You haven't stopped blushing. And don't think I haven't seen you licking your lips''.

Frodo became even more frustrated, and shuffled his feet awkwardly. Keeping his gaze cast down at his knees, he tried not to think. Not to wonder, or feel. To imagine. He'd only ever shared brief kisses with people in the Shire, and once (that he knew of) with Sauron himself. Even Samwise held him at a distance; they had kissed once, after a bounty of ale on Sam's birthday. Frodo was untouched, unspoiled, unbroken.

''You're thinking again.''

''Stop… Please stop.'' The Hobbit whispered. ''Please. I can't stand it. I don't… I can't. I don't want to be a girl. I don't want you. I don't… I don't…'' He couldn't stop himself. The facade of strength fell away all too easily. Sauron's frankness and teasing tripped him up. Frodo had doubts about himself for years. Of the four people he had kissed, only one had been a girl. It was enjoyable, but lacked the warmth he desired, a warmth Sauron was offering. And to have such warmth, however hollow, offered so freely, shocked Frodo to his core. He sobbed into his knees, sniffling and curling his fists around the sheets.

The Necromancer watched as Frodo's front collapsed, his breath quickening and tears falling from his reddening eyes. How pretty. He contemplated his next move carefully; too intense, and Frodo might reject him entirely. If he didn't take this opportunity, however… He didn't know when he might have another. Watching the Hobbit break so unexpectedly appealed to his wolflike nature. He would devour him entirely, body and soul, after some cautious pacing. Some calculated warmth. It was decided.

Sauron moved silently, taking his place beside Frodo at the head of the bed, and delicately moved him into his lap, holding the Halfling against his chest. For a few minutes, neither spoke, the only sounds being Sauron's steady breaths contrasted by Frodo's shallow inhales, his sobbing slowing to weeping, until finally, Frodo stopped, his blouse soaked with tears. He found Sauron's hands on his body, one about his waist, stroking his stomach and thighs alternately, and the other tenderly stroking each individual curl until it shone. He was confused. Stunned. The man before him had both triggered and soothed his pain. Sauron's face was hard to read. Expressionless.

Frodo wiped his eyes of remaining tears, tugging at his blouse's sleeves for some fabric to dry them with, revealing one milk-white shoulder, marred with a large red brushstroke, as though someone had spilled Dorvinion on him and neglected to wipe it clean. He settled further in his captor's lap, spreading his legs a little wider so that he had one thigh either side of Sauron's, and, after mustering courage once more, looked into his eyes. ''You… held me.''

''Yes?''

"You didn't hurt me.''

''No.''

''And you won't hurt me?''

Frodo, what are you doing? You can't be thinking like this, it isn't natural, it isn't right! He will maim you and piece you together, then take you apart over and over! Think of the Ring! Think of-

Sauron's face remained blank.

''You… won't, will you?''

''You doubt me, Hobbit?''

''I don't trust you.''

A barely-discernible simper swept over Sauron's lips. ''I'd be alarmed if you did, pretty one. I swear to you, I will not harm you.''

''That's not the same thing, is it?''

''Clever little Hobbit. Now, what shall we do? It is late and you seem to have no intention of sleeping.''

Frodo flushed, feeling Sauron's cock stir between his thighs. ''Will you hold me like this? Just for a while longer… Please.''

''Since you asked so politely.''

The Ring burned against Frodo's chest; he chose to ignore it, knowing that Sauron sensed his abandonment of duty. Yet the man did not comment on this decision. He merely held Frodo a little closer, rubbing circles along the Hobbit's thighs, back, waist, arms, with his thumbs, silently tracing dark magic onto his skin. Gradually, Sauron worked his way to Frodo's neck, holding it cautiously, forcing him to meet his gaze. ''I've never enjoyed a Hobbit before. I'd no idea they could be so beautiful.'' He murmured, stroking the Halfling's neck, and squeezing it gently. ''You are so delicate. So docile.''

Frodo whined softly; he had felt Sauron's length pressed against his backside for some time and longed to be kissed. Though he was curious (and afraid) how it felt to be filled, he was desperate to be touched and kissed and caressed. ''Remember, I can hear you.'' Sauron whispered, leaning down to press his forehead to Frodo's. ''But I want to hear you ask.''

''Please… Please, do it.''

''Be specific.''

''Please kiss me… Please.'' Frodo gasped, Sauron's finger dancing lightly over his eager hole.

''Say my name, and I'll do it. Say my name and I will do anything you ask, Frodo Baggins of Bag End''.

''Kiss me, Sauron, kiss me. Kiss my lips and my neck, e-everywhere…!''

Frodo squealed as Sauron smothered him with an intense kiss, smashing their lips together until the smaller man was breathless, thereafter working to assault his neck, and collar, and chest, arms, hands, everywhere, all the while taunting the tight knot of nerve and muscle between his arse cheeks with a knuckle.