Title: In the Firelight
Author: Timberwolf (timberwolf@frodo.com)
Pairing: Frodo/Sam.
Summary: Ah, but that would be telling. ;)
Disclaimer: This is written for my own enjoyment and
that of other like-minded folk, and not intended to
infringe on the copyright held by the estate of the late
J.R.R. Tolkien.
Rating: NC-17
Date Posted: 21 December 2002 -- originally posted to tolkien_slash
3 February 2002
Archive: Yes, to list.
Warnings: Aside from the obvious, a lot of discussion
of domestic details. 
Notes: Third in the 'Pagan Shire' series inspired by
"Letters over the Sea".  
Thanks to Bron for suggestions made many moons back, 
and also to Zig, Cara and Kelly for more recent betaing.
  

                  IN THE FIRELIGHT

                   by Timberwolf


Sam stirred, conscious of warmth, soft skin, faintly
sticky with salt, and a familiar, much- loved and
long-missed scent.  Smiling to himself, he nuzzled into
the nearest bit of available skin.

The figure against him stirred, making a contented
sound.  "Sam?"
 
"Mmm," said Sam, nuzzling into the hollow of Frodo's
throat. 

"Sam?" asked Frodo as Sam's lips travelled up his throat
to his jawline. 

"That's m'name," said Sam as he hitched himself further
up to cover Frodo's body, his lips brushing over his
once, twice, thrice.

"Oh Sam," sighed Frodo, before his mouth opened
beneath Sam's in surrender. 

Sam sighed with sheer happiness as Frodo's arms came
up to wrap around his shoulders.... 

...and then Frodo stretched languorously beneath him.

Sam turned his face into Frodo's throat,  inhaling the
familiar scent, pressing his parted lips to the soft, salty
skin. 

Frodo ran one hand slowly down Sam's back, causing
Sam to stifle a moan in the hollow of Frodo's throat.

And all impulse to merely lie with each other in drowsy
contentment was lost. 

                        *****                            

"I wasn't expecting this to happen," said Sam drowsily,
snuggling against Frodo in the languid afterglow.

Beneath him, Frodo stiffened.  "Do you regret it?"

"No! No," Sam reassured him. stretching up to kiss him
on the lips. 

"Then what?" asked Frodo, nevertheless accepting and
responding to the quick but affectionate peck.

"I just... never expected nowt like *this* to happen --
what?" he exclaimed, as Frodo jerked in shock.

"I thought you said you loved me."

"Of *course* I love you," retorted Sam, propping
himself up on one elbow.  "I just didn't know I loved
you *that* way."  At Frodo's wounded look, he
continued, "Well, did you?" 

"Well, no..." Frodo admitted, looking thoughtful. 
"Well, I didn't know it could be..." 

"What?"

"That we *could* love each other like that."  As Sam's
surprised look, he burst out, "Well don't you think it's
odd?"

Sam shrugged.  "I never gave it no thought.  I just
thought we felt what we felt because we've been
through so much together... " His voice trailed off in
thought, then he burst out "Well, surely there can't be
*no* others?"

"Well, can you think of any?" retorted Frodo.

"None as I've heard *tell* of..." said Sam.

"Well, there you are.  There are others who have been
away together.  You don't hear about *them* doing
what we just did, do you?"

"Do you think *that* would be in the old songs?"
retorted Sam.  "Not in the ones sung in the halls of the
Elves, anyway." 

Frodo gave him an incredulous look, then suddenly
burst out laughing, hard enough to have to wipe his
eyes.

"What?" said Sam impatiently, once Frodo could draw
breath to speak. 

"I was just thinking..." gasped Frodo, "of a few of the
songs you hear late in the inns... sung in, say,
Rivendell."

Sam gave *him* an incredulous look, then collapsed
laughing himself, thinking of a few samples he'd heard
in his time.

"So, it doesn't seem wrong to you?" said Frodo, once
they'd wound down enough to keep a sober demeanour.

"Does it to you?" asked Sam apprehensively.

Frodo shook his head slowly.  "No... you'd think it
should, but it doesn't.  But I was asking *you."*

"No," said Sam thoughtfully.  "Nothing that feels *this*
right could be wrong.  Even if we're the only ones ever
-- and I don't see how we *could* be --- it can't be
wrong." 

Frodo kissed him for that.  Hard.

"But what about Rose?" he asked, once they came up
for air. 

"Rose?" asked Sam, still somewhat hazy and
consequentially puzzled. 

"Rose.  Your wife, Rose.  Have you forgotten you're
married to her?" 

"Of course not," Sam snapped back. "I was *thinking*
on it, that's all." 

"Well?" said Frodo.  "Think harder. *Something's* got
to be worked out." 

"Well I'm not giving you up, and that's flat," Sam
snapped.  "So don't you even think of it." 

"I wasn't," said Frodo with equal determination.  "But
you're not leaving your family either -- "

"Lor', no.  I couldn't."

" -- so how do you justify *us?"*

"Well," said Sam thoughtfully, "it seems different."

"I fail to see how," said Frodo with some hauteur.

"Well "have you forgotten I said 'I love you both?'"
retorted Sam, stung.  "Or have you forgotten *that* in
your trip over Sea?"

"I remember *that,"* retorted Frodo.  "So it doesn't ...?"
He trailed off, lost in thought. 

"Doesn't *what?"* snapped Sam.

"Doesn't... I don't know.  Doesn't seem to be in the same
category, is what I'm trying to say."  

"I suppose it should seem like I'm breaking my marriage
vows," said Sam thoughtfully. 

"It doesn't?"

"No, it don't nohow.  I can see how it *should*, but -- "
He broke off, making a noise of frustration and burying
his fingers in his curls, gripping his head fast. 

"But what?" asked Frodo gently.

"I love her.  I'm married to her.  I love you.  I can't be
wed to you but I feel I may as well be.  It's like... I'm not
cheating on her, I'm with you *both."* 

"Oh," said Frodo thoughtfully.

"I love you both," said Sam miserably.  "I want you
both.  I can't choose between you.  Don't make me
choose.  Because I can't.  I just *can't."*

"Oh Sam," said Frodo, sliding his arms around Sam as
tears began to trickle down his cheeks.  "Don't cry.  It's
all right.  Shh.  It's all right."

"I'm sorry," said Sam miserably.  "It's not fair on you. 
And *not* fair on her.  But I can't give you up.  Not
now I've got you back again."

"Shhh," said Frodo, kissing his temple and blotting his
own tears on Sam's curls.  "We'll work something out. 
Oh, Sam.  Hush now.  Don't cry. Please don't. We'll..."
he continued as Sam tried to control his tears, "...just --
enjoy this time for *us.*  And worry about later, later." 

"That'd be best," said Sam, sniffing and snuggling
against Frodo. 

For a while they sat there in silence, Sam's head resting
on Frodo's shoulder, Frodo's head bent over his, his
cheek resting on Sam's tawny curls, their arms wrapped
around each other, unconsciously rocking each other
gently.  Eventually, Frodo stirred, drawing a deep
breath, then letting it out with a frustrated sigh.

"What?" said Sam fondly.

"So you... want me?" asked Frodo.

"You know I do," said Sam.  

"Well I do now," said Frodo.  

Sam chuckled at that and pressed his lips to Frodo's
shoulder, then said diffidently, "And you ... you want
me?"

"Oh, yes." said Frodo.  "I didn't know until now, but I
want you, all right." 

"Oh," said Sam, a little flatly.

"What?" asked Frodo gently.

"Well... how do you want me?" asked Sam
apprehensively.

"Well you know..." said Frodo.

"No, I don't know.  Or I wouldn't be asking," retorted
Sam. 

"Well," said Frodo slowly, pressing his lips to the back
of Sam's neck, "I love you, and I want to be with you for
the rest of my life."

Sam drew back so he could look into Frodo's face.  "But
do you... you know... *want* me?" 

"Oh yes," said Frodo with a tender smile.

"Do you?" asked Sam, peering at him doubtfully.

"Of course I do," replied Frodo.  Then, as Sam blushed
and ducked his head, "Why, Sam.  What's all this
about?"

Shrugging, Sam said, "You do ... *want* want me, don't
you?" 

"Well, Sam," said Frodo, blushing slightly.  "Put it this
way -- I don't think that was *only* the cold before."

"Do you *really* want *me?*  I mean... all this?" he
asked, gesturing down his body. 

"Oh, Sam," said Frodo, smiling tenderly at him.  "Of
course I do.  You're beautiful." 

"Frodo..." said Sam, abashed.

"Well you are," said Frodo, leaning in and kissing him
with a mixture of tenderness and passion.

"So *how*... exactly... do you want me?" asked Sam,
once they came up for air. 

It was Frodo's turn to flush and shift.  "Well, you
know..." 

"I don't," retorted Sam.

"Wellll..." said Frodo, sitting up and running his fingers
through his hair. 

"You don't," retorted Sam. "You're just humouring me
-- "

"Sam," exclaimed Frodo, desperately grabbing Sam's
hands and pulling him back as Sam tried to pull away. 
"Sam!  Before, when I was drying you, I wanted to put
the cloak aside and lick every droplet of water off your
body.  Is that *humouring* you?" 

Sam's mouth dropped open, he paled in shock, then
flushed, his eyes meeting Frodo's in a desperate request
for affirmation.  

Frodo's gaze was intent, yet tender, as he met Sam's
questioning gaze steadily, nodding even as he lifted
Sam's hands to his lips.  "Yes," he mouthed, before he
pressed a kiss to the backs, then the palms, of Sam's
brown hands.

Sam swallowed, closed his eyes and moaned, biting his
lip, as his hands clenched around Frodo's paler ones.

"Let's go have another dip," he said, when he could
speak again. 

"Let's," said Frodo, giving Sam a slow, sensual smile
and squeezing his hands, then tugging him to his feet
and leading him down to the shoreline.

The dip was of short duration.


END