Title : Happy Birthday
Pairing : Frodo/Sam
Author : Hobbit Forming (stacey_meyer@metronetworks.com)
Rating : NC-17 -- graphic sex
Disclaimer : All Hobbits, Elves, Dwarves and Men, their thoughts, actions, 
living quarters, clothing and any and all pets belong to the venerable J.R.R. Tolkien. 
I just like to play with them from time to time.
Summary : Frodo gives Sam a wonderful Birthday present. Graphic sex!
Feedback : Please, with Frodo on top!
Author's Note : This takes place after the Quest, before Sam gets married. It was supposed to 
be a short story, unfortunately, Frodo had other ideas and wouldn't listen to me. * shrug * 
Big thanks to Sam, my wonderful Beta reader!
 
Enjoy!

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The smooth door opened with a whisper of air and a slight creak and as he gazed into the room 
beyond, his breath left him in a surprised gasp. Candles of every shape and size had been carefully 
placed atop every available surface. Their flickering flames danced and cast delicate shadows upon 
the floor, walls and ceiling of the bedroom. A gentle scent wafted before him and he spied several 
glass bowls in varying spots, filled with the petals of the most fragrant flowers from the garden. He 
turned to the figure standing quietly beside him, studying him with those intense blue eyes that 
seemed to be able to strip his flesh away and look directly at his soul. 

"Mister Frodo?" he whispered, afraid that anything louder would shatter the moment that had been 
so lovingly created.

The figure before him smiled and blue eyes erupted into a dazzling display of fire and ice as the 
hobbit turned to study his handiwork.. "I wanted tonight to be special, Sam," he said, his voice as 
gentle as a spring rain upon the grass. He ducked his head suddenly, casting a coy smile at the 
younger hobbit, "Not that it isn't always, it's just that …" he broke off and gazed once more into the 
flickering room. "A special night deserves something … extra special."

Sam smiled, love and joy and sheer bliss swelling so big inside his heart that he felt he would 
surely burst. He could easily recall the very first time he and Frodo had become intimate, finding 
love and comfort in each other's arms while surrounded by the purest form of evil each had ever 
known. At first, it had been for just the basest of needs, to know that they were still capable of 
feeling joy … of feeling anything at all. The Quest had slowly yet steadily drained the life from 
their compact hobbit bodies, mile after cruel mile sapping them of hope until they were nothing 
more than haggard shells of their former selves. It had been most apparent on Frodo, his eyes 
turning to hollow holes on his sunken cheeks, his back bent nearly double under the tortuous 
weight of a thin band of gold.

They had turned to each other in their greatest need, needing to remind themselves of who they 
were and that they truly were still alive and not the walking dead. That first time had been out of 
necessity, to find warmth and shelter amid a cold and unforgiving land. But that first time had 
kindled something in both of them that neither had ever really known existed. Or had tried to deny.

A love so deep and pure that it went far beyond mere friendship. Sam remembered gazing into 
those soul-weary eyes after that first time and seeing the blazing emotion lying just beneath the 
surface. He knew that Frodo was able to see the same image reflected in his own dark eyes, and he 
rejoiced. The love that he had for his Master was virtuous and pure, unselfish and unquestioning. 
He would follow Frodo anywhere, had followed him.

He reached out beside him and gently took the elf-fair hand in his own calloused one, holding it 
securely with a great promise that each knew needed no words. 

"It's beautiful, Mister Frodo," he whispered, for it was. The gentle play of candlelight was almost as 
beautiful as the figure who's hand he now held.

Frodo turned to look at him, the wondrous light dancing in his depthless blue eyes as it kissed his 
marble skin with gentle shadows, and Sam felt his breath leave him in a quiet gasp. Unbridled love 
roared out from that delicate face, setting azure eyes aflame and bringing a heavenly glow to 
alabaster skin. A small smile flicked across perfect lips, lighting up Frodo's face even more and 
Sam wanted to weep with joy.

Since returning from his journey, his beloved Master had been tormented and tortured, held still by 
a past he could not seem to escape from. More than once, Sam had caught Frodo when he thought 
no one was around, staring unseeingly into space, beautiful eyes lost and unfocused, a grimace of 
pain on angelic features. Then it would pass and he would turn to smile fondly at him, the smile not 
quite not reaching his eyes.

That was not the case now; that small smile radiated around Frodo's face and fairly set the sun to 
shine in his sapphire eyes, and Sam knew it was all for him. Frodo was gazing at him with all the 
love and joy his small hobbit body could contain, and perhaps even more than that. Seeing the look 
in his Master's eyes and face sent a warm glow spreading through his body before it settled as a 
gentle tingle in his loins.

A promise of things to come.

A gentle tug on his hand pulled Sam from his reverie, Frodo was leading him into the flickering 
chamber, his expressive eyes echoing the desire that thrummed from his lithe form. He followed 
willingly, unquestioningly, the tingle in his loins melting away to a dull throb as he imagined 
tracing paths along that milky skin with his hands and lips and tongue. His breath quickened in his 
throat at the thought of mapping out the fair body that he already knew so well.

Frodo led him to the side of the bed and Sam immediately reached up to begin removing the 
articles of clothing that were standing between him and that which he desired. But Frodo stopped 
him, gently catching his sturdy hands between his own delicate ones, graceful fingers barely able to 
encircle both wrists.

"No, Sam," he whispered, his voice low and husky, "not tonight."

Sam's brow furrowed slightly and the question that had formed on his tongue quickly dissolved as 
Frodo leaned in and kissed him with infinite gentleness. His lips were petal soft as they brushed 
against Sam's with the barest hint of pressure. The younger hobbit emitted a small gasp and his lips 
parted as Frodo flicked out his tongue and traced a delicate line across his mouth, the tip of that hot 
tongue darting in quickly to tease Sam's own before darting just as quickly out again.

Frodo pulled away and Sam moaned lightly, the dull throb in his loins growing into a steady ache 
as his desire made itself known.

The older hobbit reached out and removed Sam's jacket, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. 
The weskit came next, but Frodo didn't remove it as quickly. He took his time with each button, 
gently swatting Sam's hands away when he tried to offer some assistance. He raised his eyes and in 
the flickering dimness they appeared almost purple. Sam was caught in their captivating hold, 
losing himself in that endless sea of blue that held so much emotion, that were looking at him with 
such love and need that his head began to swim. Frodo bent forward and rained butterfly kisses 
along Sam's jaw, nipping ever-so-gently at the hobbit's chin before showering the other side of his 
face with those heartbreakingly gentle kisses. Sam closed his eyes, a moan lodging itself in his 
throat as the scent of his Master washed over him; fresh rain mixed with the aroma of lavender and 
ripe berries. Frodo smelled like the Shire on a fine Spring day and Sam wanted to drown himself in 
it. 

He reached up to envelope the fair form, but Frodo had other ideas. The older hobbit grasped the 
strong forearms and pushed them back toward Sam's side, a seductive smile tugging at the corner of 
his lips as he glanced up at his lover, "Not tonight," he repeated mysteriously.

The weskit soon joined the jacket on the floor and Frodo went to work on the homespun tunic the 
younger hobbit was wearing. He reached out and placed his hands, palm down, on the front of 
Sam's chest. He could feel the muscles, born of many years of hard work, sturdy and strong beneath 
the light fabric; muscles that had protected him during the final stages of the Quest. Muscles that 
had quivered with fatigue as they bore him up the ragged slope of Mount Doom. Muscles that had 
rippled with barely contained fury at Gollum's treachery, muscles that had encircled and comforted 
him when he was most despairing. He loved those muscles, loved the body that they formed.

He loved Sam.

Tears sprang to his eyes as he leaned forward, tracing his tongue along the length of Sam's neck, 
feeling the steady pulse racing beneath the sun-kissed skin. A single tear fell, tracing a delicate path 
down past the confines of Sam's shirt.

"Mister Frodo?" the hobbit whispered, feeling the tiny trail on his skin. Frodo reached up with a 
hand to place a gentle finger against the warm lips, hushing him with a slight noise. He moved his 
hand away, gently caressing Sam's cheek as he kissed and nuzzled his neck, his other hand finally 
unfastening the top-most button on the tunic. Frodo moved to the spot and placed a whisper-light 
kiss over the newly exposed flesh.

Sam emitted a small gasp of pleasure and shivered at the touch, he tried to wrap his arms around 
Frodo again, but the hobbit once again pushed his arms away with a slight grunt. Delicate hands 
returned to the buttons, opening each one with maddening slowness and depositing a gentle kiss at 
each length of exposed skin. At this rate, Sam was quite certain that he was going to lose his mind. 
He wanted to grab Frodo by his shoulders, throw him on the bed and rip his clothes off. His aching 
erection pushed painfully against the confines of his trousers and with each teasing kiss, the heat 
and fire grew until Sam fully expected his body to erupt into a shower of flame. He reached behind 
him and grabbed a hold of the quilt, knotting it into his clenched fists to keep from doing what his 
body was begging him to do.

Finally, blessedly, Frodo finished unbuttoning his shirt and he pushed it open with utmost care, as 
if he were un-wrapping a rare artifact and he didn't want to damage it.

As gentle as a Spring breeze, he ran his fingers down the length of Sam's chest and torso, letting the 
tips of his fingers rest briefly on the top of the other hobbit's trousers. A small smile flicked to his 
lips at the strangled sound Sam made at the touch. It was difficult to ignore the considerable bulge 
resting just beneath his hands. How easy it would be to remove the confining breeches and release 
that most marvelous part of Sam. How easy it would be to take him in hand, feeling him, stroking 
him, tasting him until Sam cried out in pleasure. 

How easy … but not yet.

He wanted tonight to be special, different. He wanted to take his time with Sam, trace every 
contour of his body until it was permanently emblazoned on his mind, something to take the chill 
away when …

He shook himself mentally. He would not allow such thoughts to enter here, into this private 
sanctum, while he was with Sam.

Flipping his hands over, Frodo traced the backs of his fingers up the way they had just come. 
Reveling in the feel of Sam's skin; how smooth it was to the touch, and how hot. Almost as if he 
had a fever.

He let his hands rest, palms down, on the expanse of Sam's broad chest. He watched as his hands 
moved with each ragged breath the younger hobbit took in. He gazed at the startling difference in 
their skin tones; Sam was the color of chestnut, tanned a deep golden brown after working in the 
bright Shire sun for so many years. The toil of the Quest had dulled the richness of Sam's skin, but 
after being home and back in the gardens he loved so much, the glorious richness had returned. His 
own hands were pale in comparison, looking almost like milk that had been spilled upon a fine 
wooden table. His gaze flicked to his right hand and the gaping hole that glared back at him. The 
gap was as obvious as a missing tooth and Frodo felt shame rising in him as he stood before Sam. 
He almost pulled away, but his gazed moved up to Sam's face and chased all fear and doubt away. 
The face was beautiful, looking like it was carved of the finest oak and topped with honey wheat. 
Frodo could gaze at that face forever and never tire of studying every curve and line.

Sam had called him fair and compared him to a statue wrought of marble, but Frodo knew the truth. 
He was pale, almost ghostly. In truth, he had always been fair-skinned, opting to spend most of his 
days indoors, locked in some study or another. He had never had much use for the outdoors, save a 
hike or two, and it had shown. Like Sam, the Quest had paled his skin, but unlike his lovely 
counterpart, the healthy glow did not return.

Closing his eyes against the torrent of unwanted memories that threatened to mar this perfect 
moment, Frodo ran his hands across Sam's chest, feeling the fine coating of golden hair brushing 
gently against his palms. Leaning forward with eyes still closed, he easily found the soft patch of 
raised skin and placed his lips to it. Sam arched beneath him as if a jolt had run through him and 
Frodo smiled. He wanted to give Sam nothing but raw pleasure tonight.

He flicked his tongue out from between his lips and teased the soft nub, hearing the younger hobbit 
gasp and moan at his ministrations. He allowed his hands to roam over Sam's thick torso, his touch 
as light as a feather as he traced delicate patterns along the pleasantly round belly.

Pulling his tongue back into his mouth, Frodo began to suckle gently on Sam's now taut nipple. The 
other hobbit groaned and arched again while Frodo's hands journeyed beyond the top of the 
trousers, brushing up gently against the rock hard bulge he found there. Sam emitted a strangled cry 
at the electric touch, his hands balling the quilt inside his clenched fists. He squeezed his eyes shut 
against the almost overwhelming desire to grab Frodo and devour him. He sucked desperately at 
the air as his Master's gentle touch once again teased his throbbing erection, dancing light as a 
prayer over his aching member, causing stars to explode behind his eyes.

"Mister Frodo," he gasped, the sound barely intelligible.

Frodo released the nipple he'd been suckling on and blew lightly on it, Sam thought he would pass 
out. Arcs of pleasure tore through his body, temporarily blotting out all coherent thought as his 
Master's breath teased him. Ever so gently, Frodo licked and kissed his way over to the other soft 
mound and began paying it equal attention. His hands continued to roam over Sam's body, 
caressing, rubbing and stroking the building fire that was blazing just beneath his hands. Frodo 
reached up with one hand and began to gently rub the still-wet nipple he had just vacated. Sam 
moaned deep in his throat at the wonderful things the friction of Frodo's hand did to his sensitive 
nipple. The hobbit released the second taut nub, blowing gently across it before raising his other 
hand to tease it, much the same way he'd done with the first one. 

He lifted his head to study the effect his ministrations were having and he was quite pleased with 
the result. Sam's eyes were squeezed tightly shut, his mouth ajar as he sucked in deep, ragged 
breaths and his hands were clenched in the folds of the quilt of the bed behind him. Frodo was sure 
that if it hadn't been for the bed, Sam's legs would've buckled already.

He moved his hands up to push Sam's shirt down his trembling arms and it quickly joined the 
weskit and jacket. The younger hobbit opened his eyes and gazed hungrily at Frodo, desire and 
need blazing in those sea-green depths, the look sent delicious tremors down Frodo's spine.

Sam's cheeks were flushed from the fire coursing through his veins, but Frodo was not finished 
with him. The older hobbit stepped forward, forming his body close to Sam's as he kissed and 
nipped well-defined shoulders. Sam reached up and encircled him, drawing him ever closer until 
Frodo's own pulsing erection pressed firmly against his own. The older hobbit groaned as he nipped 
gently at Sam's collarbone, feeling the shiver of pleasure ripple through him as their desires rubbed 
and thrust together. He ran his hands lovingly down the other hobbit's sinewy arms, relishing the 
feel of well-defined muscles and how safe and wonderful being wrapped up in those arms made 
him feel. Frodo felt so marvelously secure when Sam was with him, almost as if no hurt or pain or 
fear could ever touch him. When Sam wrapped him up in those warm, loving arms that were so 
powerful and yet so whisper gentle, Frodo could easily remember a time when life had been simple 
and uncomplicated. When his biggest worry had been the price of a much sought-after book or 
what flowers Sam should plant in the garden. 

Sam ground his hips to Frodo's and the hobbit gasped in pleasure, raising his head to find soft lips 
that parted eagerly before his own. Sam tasted of the ale he had drunk recently down at The Green 
Dragon. Frodo took those delicious lips into this mouth, sucking hungrily on them. He felt Sam's 
hot tongue on his mouth and eagerly allowed it in, teasing and flicking with his own until a low 
groan emanated from the younger hobbit.

Frodo felt Sam reach up and begin to unfasten his weskit.

He pulled away suddenly from the kiss and left Sam confused and gasping. He gazed at his master 
with a small frown as Frodo re-fastened the button he had just worked on. 

"Mister Frodo?" 

In reply, the older hobbit reached out and gently caressed Sam's face with his fingertips, tracing the 
gentle lines of that beautiful, tender face, the way his mouth curved gently up at the corners, almost 
as if it were in a permanent smile. The gentle squint of his mossy eyes and the fine curve of his 
nose.

"Not yet, Sam," he replied throatily as he leaned in and placed a delicate kiss on those perfect lips, 
"Not yet."

Any thought Sam had of arguing the cons of his Master's statement were quickly banished from 
memory when Frodo placed his lips to his chest and began working deftly on his trousers. The 
younger hobbit's breath hitched in his throat as Frodo began a trail of kisses down the length of his 
body, following them with a light flick of his hot tongue. With the trousers finally undone, Frodo 
let them slip unbidden from his hands, helping the other hobbit step easily away from the mound. 
The older hobbit sank easily to his knees, his tongue teasing Sam's belly-button as his fingers 
brushed achingly gentle across the throbbing erection barely being contained by Sam's white 
undershorts. 

Thighs tensed at the touch and Sam made an unintelligible sound as lightening ran through his body 
and set every nerve ending on fire. He looked down to see Frodo gazing up at him, tongue tracing a 
path along the top rim of the undershorts. His Master's eyes, framed by long lashes, were dark and 
boiling with passion. Sam felt as if he were falling down a long chasm, tumbling head over heels 
toward an endless blue ocean, an expanse of sea that would swallow him up and drown him in its 
cerulean embrace.

Frodo smiled wickedly up at him before nuzzling his face into Sam's crotch, inhaling the musky 
scent as the throbbing bulge bumped against his cheek.

Fireworks exploded inside of Sam's chest and his knees did buckle. He collapsed back onto the bed 
with a cry of pleasure, his fists once again bunching the quilt to prevent himself from pouncing on 
his Master. "Mister Frodo," he whimpered, his voice lodging thickly in his throat.

The older hobbit ignored him, continuing to nuzzle Sam's pulsing erection, pressing his lips to it 
with gentle kisses while his hands teased the sensitive flesh on quivering thighs. He ran his cheeks, 
mouth and face across the glorious hardness, losing himself in the heady aroma of Sam's essence, 
letting the musky aroma wash over him and drown his senses. Frodo reached his hands up and with 
aching slowness, pulled down the white undershorts.

A strangled sob caught in Sam's throat as the final article of clothing was finally removed. As the 
slightly chilly air hit his blazing erection he gasped and shivered, Frodo blew a gentle breath across 
him then and he moaned, glancing down to look at the image who was so lovingly driving him 
from sanity. 

Frodo ran his hands gently up and down Sam's thighs, gently caressing the sensitive spots near his 
loins, his delicious mouth mere inches from the shaft that throbbed and pulsed before him. If he just 
made the slightest forward motion, Sam knew he would feel Frodo on him, feel those luscious lips 
surround him, that hot mouth envelop and take him. The desire was almost too much to bear and 
Sam groaned as Frodo ran his fingers lightly across the top of his loins, his knuckles turning white 
where they gripped the tangled quilt.

Then Frodo was looking up at him, gazing at him from beneath lowered lashes, eyes that were as 
black as midnight blazed a searing path straight to Sam's soul and set joy and love to flame. 
Keeping his gaze firmly locked onto the one soul he loved more than life itself, Frodo closed the 
distance between them and slowly took Sam into his waiting mouth. 

The younger hobbit closed his eyes and cried out in pleasure as his Master's deliciously hot mouth 
wrapped itself around the swollen head of his aching erection. He almost lost himself to bliss, 
almost let himself get pulled away in the rip-current of pleasure toward the edge of the abyss, 
almost went over. 

But he didn't want it to end just yet.

Frodo had put a lot of love and care into setting this evening up and Sam didn't want to spoil 
anything by letting go so soon. So, as Frodo's tongue began to run itself along the head of his 
member he started thinking about Marigold's recipe for Spring Apple Tarts. As Frodo wrapped a 
gentle hand around the base of his shaft he mentally alphabetized every flower he knew. He almost 
lost the ability to think, though, when Frodo began to stroke him gently, running his cool hand up 
and down his hot erection, sending bolts of lightening streaking through his body. Sam gasped and 
moaned as the older hobbit placed his lips against the velvety skin and kissed the length of the 
shaft, all the while continuing to stroke him with those elf-like hands. He felt Frodo's breath on him 
as the hobbit blew softly across the fiery length and Sam growled deep in his throat. It was getting 
harder and more difficult to not reach down and grab those delicate shoulders, crush that glorious 
form to his own and cover Frodo with his mouth.

A throaty chuckle sounded beneath him and Sam opened his eyes to watch as Frodo slowly slid his 
mouth down his entire erection. His breath stuck solidly in his throat and Sam's mouth opened in a 
silent cry of pleasure as star bursts formed behind his eyes and fire scorched his every nerve 
ending. Frodo buried his face in Sam's crotch and flicked his tongue sensuously up and then back 
down his shaft. Sam whimpered and grit his teeth against the impulse to thrust into Frodo's mouth; 
he certainly didn't want to choke his Master.

Slowly, so slowly Sam wondered if time had suddenly stopped, Frodo pulled back and the younger 
hobbit moaned loudly as the chill air hit him. Just before he would've broken contact, Frodo once 
more slid forward with his mouth, his tongue flicking across Sam's member the entire time. 

Suddenly, the older hobbit began to hum, almost too softly to be heard and Sam vaguely wondered 
why his Master would suddenly take to singing. But then he felt Frodo's lips begin to vibrate and 
the quiet sound began to echo onto his highly sensitive member, brilliant colors started to dance in 
front of his eyes and a loud buzzing filled his ears. Frodo began moving faster up and down the 
quickly swelling erection, his lips fastened tightly onto the pulsing organ as his hot, wet tongue slid 
along the underside of the shaft. When Frodo reached up to gently cup the velvety sack of skin 
beneath his working mouth, Sam threw his head back with a low, groaning cry. Just when he didn't 
think he could experience any more pleasure, Frodo surprised him by catapalting him to the next 
level. Sam felt as if his entire body were buzzing, as though every square inch of skin had been 
suddenly lit on fire like one of Gandalf's fireworks. 

Frodo released his erection suddenly, but before Sam could formulate the words to protest, he felt 
his Master's mouth move down to his sack, taking it into his mouth and teasing him with his wet 
tongue. Sam cried out as his swollen and throbbing erection brushed against Frodo's face. He dug 
his nails into the soft mattress as the other hobbit reached up and began to stroke his length again; 
rubbing him slowly and then quickly, caressing the now-leaking head with his thumb while 
suckling gently on his velvety-coated orbs.

He was nearing the abyss again and Sam didn't think he could prevent himself from going over this 
time. His breath was coming in short gasps and he felt the tidal wave building, a growing swell 
emanating from his belly and traveling out to his arms and legs until his fingers clenched and his 
toes curled. He tried to recite poetry, tried to recall Mister Bilbo's lessons, tried to name all the trees 
in the Shire, but his mind had shut down. All he knew was Frodo's tantalizingly hot mouth and his 
gentle hands, stroking and sucking him toward oblivion.

Then suddenly it was gone.

The abrupt absence of Frodo was almost painful and Sam's cry was not one born of pleasure. He 
forced his eyes open and raised his head to find his Master standing a few feet away, gazing 
serenley at him, a coy smile tugging at swollen lips.

"Mister Frodo?" Sam's voice was ragged and thin.

Instead of answering, Frodo reached up and began to slowly unfasten his weskit. As his fingers 
worked each gold button, his eyes remained locked on Sam, capturing and holding the younger 
hobbit in an etheral embrace.

The weskit fell to the floor in a whisper of material and Frodo began working on his tunic. He 
watched as Sam's eyes darkened almost to black in the dimness as he watched his Master -- his 
lover -- slowly undress for him. Teasing him by slowly removing each article of clothing, taking his 
time in exposing that which the other hobbit desperately wanted.

Frodo worked slowly on the buttons, allowing the shirt to gently fall open and reveal to Sam the 
landscape of milky white skin that seemed to glow in the candlelight. Frodo slowly slid his tunic 
from his shoulders, allowing it to drop in a tangled pile next to his weskit. He closed his eyes and 
ran his hands down his bare chest and torso, imagining that it were Sam's wonderful hands, warm 
on his cool flesh. His mouth parted in a silent gasp and he began to unfasten his trousers.

He slowly opened his eyes to find Sam staring at him intently from his position on the bed; jade 
eyes blazing with desire, his golden body flushed with passion and his marvelous erection pulsing 
with need. Frodo groaned and let his trousers fall, stepping easily out of them. Unlike Sam, he was 
not wearing any undershorts, so his own desire was now quite obvious. Sam made a sound deep in 
his throat as Frodo easily closed the distance between them, pressing his slender body toward Sam's 
muscular one. Since the younger hobbit was sitting down, he had the advantage of having Frodo's 
entire body directly at his fingertips. He slowly raised his hand and, placing his fingertips against 
that prefect skin, he re-traced the direction Frodo's own hands had just taken. The other hobbit 
shivered at the heated touch and whispered Sam's name with a small smile, reaching up to run his 
fingers through ginger curls. Sam let his fingers dance down to Frodo's non-existent belly and 
linger for a few tantalizing moments above the other's loins, eliciting a moan that made him smile. 
Leaning forward slightly, Sam pressed his mouth to Frodo's neck, pressing his lips to the throbbing 
heartbeat he found, drawing out a small gasp and moan as a result. He let his hands wander around 
to clasp at the perfectly round bottom and squeezed, delighting in the soft groan Frodo made. He 
traced his lips down and across his Master's collarbone, coming to the small silver scar upon the left 
shoulder. Sam kissed it gently and he heard Frodo hiss at the contact; the small wound was still ice-
cold to his lips and the younger hobbit did not linger there, for he knew that Frodo did not like to be 
reminded of his perceived imperfections. Instead, Sam moved back to the alabaster chest and 
showered it with gentle kisses, enjoying the heady aroma of Frodo's delicious scent. He licked at 
his Master's nipples, like two rose petals on a field of snow and felt the other hobbit shiver at the 
touch. Trailing kisses down a chest that he found painfully thin, Sam reached back around and 
gently grasped the erection that had been bumping just above his own. Frodo gasped loudly and 
hitched, his fingers tightening involuntarily in Sam's hair. With deliberate slowness, Sam began to 
stroke the smooth shaft, rubbing his palm over the swollen head at every upstroke. Frodo's eyes 
were closed and his mouth parted slightly as he enjoyed the wonderful feel of Sam's hands on him; 
hands he had seen coax a wilting flower back to bloom, the same hands that had wielded a sword to 
protect him over a lifetime ago. Sam's mouth kissed and caressed Frodo's satin skin while his expert 
hands fondled and stroked the quickly growing erection.

Releasing Sam's silky hair, Frodo reached down and grasped Sam's hands, halting them in mid-
motion before gently removing them. He saw the question burning in those eyes, like the sun 
glinting off the sea, and he leaned in to place a kiss on each lid before answering. "Tonight is for 
you, Samwise."

"But --" the younger hobbit made a move to answer but a gentle finger on his lips stilled him. Sam 
gazed up and into those wonderfully depthless eyes, eyes that were shining brightly with love and 
passion, eyes that gleamed in the dimness with desire, eyes that shone like stars for him. 

Just for him.

Tears sprang to his eyes as he saw love looking back at him, felt the closeness of the one person he 
had ever truly felt comfortable around and heard the joy in that voice every time it spoke his name. 
The tears spilled over his lashes and traced diamond trails down his golden cheeks. Frodo reached 
up and gently wiped them away with his thumbs before softly applying a kiss to the damp skin.

"I love you, Mister Frodo," Sam whispered.

"And I love you, Sam Gamgee."

With infinite gentleness, Frodo grasped Sam by his shoulders and eased him back onto the expanse 
that was the Master Bed. With a small smile, Frodo opened the top drawer of his night stand and 
pulled out a small bottle of scented oil. Turning his gaze to Sam, he let his eyes wander over the 
magnificent form of the naked body; the graceful curve of muscles along arms and legs, gold skin 
that glowed in the dimness and beautiful desire standing proudly from that compact body … 
waiting for him. 

Frodo opened the bottle and sighed deeply, as much as he was taking his time and savoring every 
second with Sam, it would all be over too soon. He poured some of the oil into his hands, letting 
the scent of ginger and lavender wash over him, drowning any remorse he may have been feeling. 
He would content himself with enjoying the now and not worry about the will-be's He gently 
placed the bottle on the night stand and eased himself gently next to the younger hobbit. Sam was 
gazing silently at him, so much emotion pouring out of his moss-green eyes that Frodo almost lost 
himself in them. He wished that he could lose himself in those viridescent wells and simply allow 
himself to fall into those endless pools where no hurt or fear would ever be able to find him.

If only …

Frodo reached out and began to gently run his hands down Sam's chest, the oil temporarily 
warming his cool hands and making them deliciously wet. Sam shuddered and moaned at the feel, 
waves of pleasure causing goosebumps to raise on his skin. He closed his eyes and whispered 
Frodo's name, moaning quietly as the other hobbit's hands moved sensuously down his torso and 
then to his thighs. He then felt Frodo's wonderfully slicked hands ease up to his erection, sliding 
easily over and around it and causing such an arc of pleasure that Sam involuntarily thrust his hips 
into those hands. A husky chuckle was the reply and Frodo gave the velvety heat a few gentle 
strokes, eliciting a whimper from Sam, before trailing his hands back up the way they'd come. 
When Frodo was satisfied that Sam was properly covered in ginger and lavender, the older hobbit 
shifted his position and lay down on top of him, basking in the feel of Sam's oil-slickened body. 
Eyes as deep as the sea snapped open and gazed up at Frodo who was but a breath away. A small 
grin worked its way onto his face as he reached up to encircle the fragile from in his powerful arms. 
He made a small noise in the back of his throat as Frodo's body pressed to his, as their erections 
came into blissful contact and sent stars to spinning behind his eyes. On top of him, Frodo groaned 
and pressed his hips to Sam's, increasing the pressure between them. 

"Mister Frodo," Sam begged, his voice thick, "please, sir."

In reply, Frodo lowered his head and placed a kiss on the hobbit's lips, Sam's mouth opened with a 
groan and Frodo easily slid his tongue inside, hungrily exploring every facet of that wonderful 
mouth. He groaned as Sam trapped his tongue and began to suck eagerly on it. Frodo ran his slick 
fingertips down the side of Sam's body and eventually reached in and fondled the hobbit's velvet 
sack.

Sam released Frodo's tongue with a gasp, mossy eyes rolling back in his head as oil-wet fingers 
caressed and cajoled him to near release. Removing one hand, Frodo reached out for the oil and 
deftly poured some onto his fingers. With utmost care, he reached down to Sam's opening and let 
them rest there.

At his touch, Sam's eyes re-focused and he gazed up at the fair face above him. "Mister Frodo?"

Frodo had never done this before, had never taken the dominant role in the bedroom, always 
allowing Sam to do so. When Sam had asked him about it once, Frodo had replied that it was the 
only time he didn't have to be the one in charge, the only place he could let someone else make all 
the decisions and that it was his hidden treasure. Yet now, here was Frodo, placing himself in the 
role he had given to Sam.

The older hobbit smiled gently, "I want to, Sam," he replied softly, "I want to give you as much as 
you have given to me. Will you … let me?"

Frodo's sapphire eyes shone in the dimness, but there was hesitation as well, ready to stop at a 
single word, not wanting to cause any hurt to that whom he loved.

A thrill of fear flashed through Sam, but it was quickly replaced by a rush of longing. The chance 
to feel Frodo, all of Frodo, above and inside him was tantalizing, like a dream you didn't think 
could get much better but suddenly did. He reached up and cradled Frodo's face in his hands, 
running his thumbs over rose petal lips, "With all my heart, Mister Frodo."

The smile that erupted on that angelic face tore at Sam's heart for it was filled with pure joy. It 
radiated in his wonderful eyes and seemed to shine from every pore of his lithe form. Sam wanted 
to see that smile again, and again, for the rest of time, for pure smiles like that did not come easily 
to Frodo these days.

With a sigh, Frodo bent forward and covered Sam's mouth with his own while gently easing one 
slick finger into the warm opening. The younger hobbit gasped into Frodo's mouth at the feeling 
and the older hobbit waited for him to relax, just as Sam had waited for him his first time. He soon 
felt the muscles soften and he began to thrust gently with his finger, caressing Sam and slowly 
opening the tight entry. He continued to kiss Sam tenderly, distracting him with his tongue as he 
added another finger. The hobbit whimpered but did not tense, instead he began to gently rock his 
hips against Frodo; working himself in rhythm to his Master's fingers while feeling their erections 
move and slide together. Both hobbits groaned and Frodo eased in a third finger. Sam gasped again 
and broke the kiss, running his hands down Frodo's back and stopping to caress and squeeze his 
bottom, grinding those delicate hips down into his own. Frodo moaned loudly as he thrust his 
fingers into Sam, hitting the spot that the other had discovered in him. 

The reaction was immediate, Sam cried out and bucked his hips, taking in more of Frodo's fingers 
in an attempt to ride the wave of pleasure.

Gently, Frodo withdrew his fingers and Sam whimpered in protest. With a soft kiss to his lover's 
neck, Frodo reached out for the oil and poured a generous amount into his hands, surprised to find 
that they were shaking slightly. Sam reached out suddenly and clasped his Master's hands in his 
own, "Let me, Mister Frodo," he whispered, transferring the oil onto his own palms.

With wide eyes, Frodo watched as Sam reached down and grasped his shaft in his wet hands. 
Pleasure exploded through his body and Frodo's mouth opened in a silent cry as Sam slowly and 
gently greased him up. Long, slow strokes caused pinpoints of light to dance before his eyes and 
Sam's strong grasp nearly ripped the breath from his lungs. He felt himself riding the tidal wave of 
pleasure and he knew with certainty that if Sam didn't stop it would all be over before it even 
began, but he couldn't get his lips to formulate the words to tell the other to stop.

Blessedly, the younger hobbit sensed the approaching release and with one last stroke, withdrew his 
hands, leaving Frodo flushed and gasping.

The older hobbit fixed his eyes on Sam, wild desire roaring through him with such force it left him 
breathless and panting. He needed Sam, needed to be with him, to feel him, and he needed him 
now.

Sam shifted beneath him, glinting eyes fixed lovingly on his Master's face. With a deep breath, 
Frodo placed himself against Sam and lay on top of him, wanting to be as close as possible to the 
one who had shown him what true love really was.

Sam nuzzled his face into Frodo's neck and felt the roaring pulse beneath his lips mimicking his 
own hammering heartbeat. He wrapped his arms around the fragile shoulders and kissed the fiery 
heartbeat.

With a gentle movement, Frodo pushed forward.

Sam hissed as a flash of pain washed over him, he closed his eyes and nuzzled deeper into his 
Master's neck, willing himself to relax. The pain slowly passed as his body accepted the entry and 
Frodo gently slid in the rest of the way.

As he felt the warmth of his lover flow over and envelope him, Frodo squeezed his eyes shut and 
threw his head back in an unintelligible shout. His breath hitched and caught in his chest as Sam's 
tight hole squeezed and pressed against him, tearing the world from under him and sending him 
spinning and falling through space and time.

He had never felt so whole, so complete, in his entire life. He felt as if every painful void, every 
empty space, every black hole that existed in his heart and soul were suddenly and wondrously 
filled. He wanted to remain in this perfect moment for all of eternity, he wanted to stay here where 
joy surrounded him and bliss enveloped him, he wanted to stay where the pain of his Quest could 
not touch him. 

He almost lost himself at the delicious feel of Sam's warmth and closeness, but he had said this 
night was for him and he meant it. 

Gritting his teeth, Frodo began to withdraw slowly and then just as slowly slide back in. Beneath 
him, Sam's head was back on the pillow and his eyes were squeezed shut in pleasure, small cry's 
issuing forth at every stroke from Frodo. His strong hands were grazing down his back and Frodo 
could feel fingernails biting into his skin, the feeling excited him and sent a thrill through him. He 
began to thrust faster, working himself into a rhythm as he gently hit the spot Sam knew so well in 
him. The other hobbit cried out his name and bucked his hips up to meet the thrusts of is Master, 
Frodo clenched his fists into the quilt at the feel of Sam moving against him, at the feel of the 
increasing friction that so deliciously surrounded him. 

Frodo's breath came in gasps as he slowed his thrusting, opting for a slow and deep rhythm which 
caused Sam to whimper and moan at the sudden change. Reaching between them, Frodo grasped 
the swollen shaft that had been rubbing against his belly and he began to stroke it in time with his 
deep thrusts, rubbing his thumb over the leaking head and watching as Sam's breathing became 
more and more ragged. Watching his lover in the throes of passion excited Frodo and he once again 
increased his thrusts. Quickly and deeply he entered Sam again and again, stroking and pumping 
the growing erection faster and faster.

His name became a mantra on Sam's lips as he moaned Frodo's name over and over again, the chant 
growing ever louder as Frodo drove him closer to the edge with each forceful thrust.

With a final cry, Sam's body stiffened and he rode wave after wave of almost painful pleasure as 
his climax broke upon him like a tidal wave. Frodo cried out and shuddered as Sam's body clamped 
down on him, squeezing him with almost unbearable tightness and unbelievable heat. He moaned 
loudly as Sam bucked beneath him and took him ever deeper inside, caught up in the throes of his 
release. 

With a final thrust, Frodo let go and followed Sam, his own body tensing as if in a convulsion as 
his climax tore through his body, setting him ablaze.

He collapsed limply onto Sam's slick chest, breathing heavily as his body tried to recover from the 
experience. He pressed his lips to the wet skin and applied a gentle kiss. Sam reached up and 
wrapped his arms around the older hobbit, running his hands through the dark, sweat-dampened 
curls, not ever wanting to let him go. Wishing they could stay just so until the end of time. Sam felt 
as though he was walking on sunshine, wrapped up in joy and love. He had never felt so complete 
and so perfect as he did right then.

Frodo slowly raised his head and gazed quietly at Sam, blue eyes soft in the slowly dying 
candlelight. Without a word, he studied the wondrous face before him, burning every nuance to 
memory, not wanting to ever forget what this face looked like at this very moment. Deep in his 
heart he knew that someday he would not be able to see it every day, quite possibly for a long time, 
and the thought squeezed painfully at his heart.

The time was coming, but not yet. Not now. Right now, he had this moment and he had Sam. 

Right now, he was happy.

Sam smiled up at him and tucked a stray black curl behind a delicately pointed ear. "Happy 
Birthday, Mister Frodo," he said quietly.

Frodo returned the smile and brushed fingertips across the smooth forehead, he wanted to find the 
words to express just what Sam meant to him. To tell his lover, his best friend, his protector, just 
how much he appreciated everything he had done for him. He needed to find the right words to tell 
Sam exactly how he felt, so Sam would always know and never wonder.

"Thank you," he replied softly. 

~Fin