TITLE: A Claiming Fire 
AUTHOR: joy (marcyleecorgan@yahoo.com)  
RATING: R  
WARNING: Violence, sado-masochism 

DISCLAIMER: Tolkien is a god, and I do not own any of his world. 

SUMMARY: Frodo makes a strong need of his known to his loyal Sam. 

NOTES: Someone wanted BDSM!Hobbits. I tried. 



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A Claiming Fire
by joy

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Frodo shifted in his bedclothes, unable to sleep once again. Another bout of 
sickness had befallen him, and he had lain in bed for a week with a high fever. 
Dreams of Sauron and the Ring filled his mind, clouding it with red, sand-swept
terrors and cries of the innocent. While he moaned and kicked and cried, never 
remembering when he woke that he was home in the Shire, Samwise had dutifully 
taken care of him.

It was beginning to show. Rosie never said a word, but so often, Sam would put 
his hand on her shoulder and wander out of the bedroom to go to Frodo. He spent
hours sitting and watching the hobbit breathe. 

Now, though, Frodo's chest was falling up and down calmly. He was covered in a 
thin film of dreamsweat, and his hand held close to his chest, protecting his 
injured hand. His lips cracked open the smallest bit, and his tongue slid out
to stretch. 

Sam straightened up. He had been crouched over his master for almost two hours,
and his back was aching. He reached for the mug of water on the bedside table,
but Frodo closed his eyes, refusing.

"No, Sam, I'm afraid I need something else." 

"What would that be, Mr. Frodo? Some food, perhaps?" Sam stood, ready to do
anything for Frodo. Anything at all; anything would be simple after the task
they had already undertaken. 

Frodo sat up, using the headboard as support for his thin, frail body. 

"I've been thinking, Sam. Thinking about..." He shook his head, unable to speak
of the horrors. "I need something, something that defies all I know of goodness
and love." 

Sam listened quietly. He barely understood what Frodo was talking about. After
all, he had only been the loyal companion. He had no knowledge of greater
things than a cabbage-patch and a rake. Frodo had always dwelled on deeper
matters, probably the influence of his Uncle Bilbo. It scared Sam.
 
"Mr. Frodo, don't. What a hobbit needs right now is good food and drink to heal
your spirits." 

"Sam?" Frodo whispered. "Don't leave me."

Sam, a third of the way across the room, stopped in his tracks and came back to
the bed, sitting next to Frodo and grasping his hand tightly. "No, no, I'll
never leave you."

Frodo scooted closer to Sam, folding himself into the younger hobbit's lap. Sam
barely blinked. It seemed so natural to hold his Frodo like this, like a lover.
Their souls had grown so close that it was almost expected for their bodies to
follow suit.
 
"Sam... could you?"

"Could I what?" Sam was leaning down over Frodo now, but not in concern, more
in desire now. His face was flushed, and heat was rushing through his limbs.

Frodo gritted his teeth in determination, then softened into a pleading
innocence.

"Hurt me, Sam."

Sam nearly leaped across the bed. "No! Frodo, I couldn't!"

"Sam. Please."

Sam drew in a few ragged, desperate breaths. He didn't want to hurt his
beloved, and he had sworn that he never would. But now, Frodo was asking,
asking with that tone he could never refuse. But he was asking for the
impossible. How could Samwise, plain old Samwise Gamgee, possibly lash out at
Frodo Baggins in anything but love and tenderness?

"It's a part of me now. I need angry hands and bruised flesh." Frodo tried to
explain.

Sam shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing. "Mr. Frodo, if I
did, you'd never forgive me."

"I'm beyond forgiveness now, Sam. And I ask you again, hurt me."
 
Sam nearly started to cry. "My Frodo... don't. Don't make me do this. You're
too kind and good and you shouldn't have had to take the Ring, and please, no."

Gripping Sam's shoulders, Frodo looked deep into his friend's eyes. "Please."

Sam shivered, nodding so subtly anyone but the two of them would have missed
it. They moved away from each other, then Sam drew back his hand, shaking
uncontrollably, trying to judge where to hit Frodo to inflict the least bit of
damage.

His palm swung across the room and collided with Frodo's pale cheeks, bringing
color to the surface. Frodo's head jerked, but he held his ground. Sam slapped
him again, feeling something bubble from the bottom of his hobbit soul.

Something ugly and evil, something that felt wrong to the very core. Frodo
looked so very delicious, waiting for punishment. Sam's loins jumped to
attention. The smacking noise of flesh against flesh was delectable, almost
edible. The desire to drive Frodo down into the sheets and bend him to his will
was so tangible, so touchable.

Sam's face changed, transforming from pained effort to glowing. Frodo watched
him carefully, trying to disguise his enjoyment as Sam knocked him back into
the bed and his face burned. Stars swam in his vision, and they seemed to
converge in his belly, drawing themselves into a tight ball of need.

Sam picked up Frodo then, and tossed him to the floor, eliciting whimpers. He
reached down as Frodo tried to get back up, twisting his arm, slamming him back
to the floor, straddling him. Frodo turned his head to avoid the blows, but it
was all in show, and Sam understood. The blows fell again and again, and Frodo
sighed with arousal, moaning loudly as he could no longer hold it back when Sam
finally yanked him close and prepared to hit him once last time.

Sam stopped panting from exertion. "Frodo?" It was so hard to slow down the
thoughts in his head, visions of beautiful pain, and anguished love lying
across a bed, droplets of blood scattered on the linen.

Frodo smiled at him, arching his back seductively, and pressing his lips to
Sam's. Through the blood, coppery and slick, Sam could taste the fire. Frodo
had enjoyed all of this, it was apparent in the way Frodo's hands were creeping
into his curls and the thick pressure straining his trousers as he pushed
against Sam's hips needfully.  

"Thank you..." Frodo whispered, before gathering Sam into his arms and claiming
him as his own.



END