Title: Mushrooms

Author: Romy Brandybuck

Authors E-mail: hobbitmistress@books-of-bag-end.net

Website: http://romybrandybuck.books-of-bag-end.net

Pairing: Frodo/Sam

Rating: R/NC-17 (probably the latter)

Summary: We all know Frodo loves mushrooms, and so does Sam.

Notes: No plot whatsoever, nope, none. And I beg forgiveness for the
interjection of quite unnecessary humour in the middle, I made the mistake of reading
Teasel's, 'Lying in Bed', halfway through writing, and I didn't have the heart to take out 
the bits of this that were influenced by that (mainly because they made me
giggle, a lot). Many fluffy hobbit hugs for said Teasel, I hope I do not offend with my 
head's inability to detach from your story after reading it.

Dedicated to my own wonderful Samwise, Aina Baggins, for her invaluable help and 
inspiration (and much giving of plot bunnies).

*****

"What have you got there, Sam?" Frodo asked, peering out from under the
bedcovers, his hair mussed from sleep.

"Breakfast," Sam supplied, closing the door quietly behind himself and walking 
across the room, tray held in his hands. Frodo craned his head upwards, trying
to catch a glimpse of what lay on the tray. The sweet aroma of mushrooms reached
his nose and made his mouth water.

Frodo sat up straight, the covers falling away from the upper half of his body, 
"Mushrooms. Oh Sam, you are a marvel!"

"Thought you might like them," Sam said, giving Frodo a knowing look and placing 
the tray on the bedtable.

"You thought right, Sam!" Frodo stretched his arm out towards the tray, but Sam 
stopped Frodo's hand and held it in his own, sitting down on the edge of the bed 
and looking into Frodo's eyes. Sam picked up a fork from the tray and speared
some of the mushrooms with it. He lifted it to Frodo's mouth, stopping and letting
Frodo wrap his mouth around it and tease the mushroom from the fork slowly, his eyes 
never leaving Sam's. 

Setting the fork down, Sam took another mushroom from the plate with his fingers 
and brought it to Frodo's mouth. Frodo licked his lips and then accepted the 
mushroom, sighing with pleasure. 

Sam looked thoughtful for a moment, then whispered, "Close your eyes." 

Frodo held Sam's gaze for a moment then did as he was bidden, his eyes
fluttering closed. Quietly, Sam took another mushroom from the plate and held it up in
front of Frodo's mouth, brushing it lightly along Frodo's bottom lip and leaving a
trail of melted butter glistening. Frodo parted his lips and closed them around the 
mushroom and Sam's fingers, drawing them into his mouth, sucking them clean.

His eyes still closed, Frodo felt Sam shift about and then another mushroom
touched his lip. He bit into it, oily juice spilling down his chin. Then moaned as he
felt Sam's tongue trailing up his neck, catching the butter as it trickled downwards 
before running along his jaw and up to his ear.

"Better take that nightshirt off," Sam whispered, his voice husky, "don't want
to get butter all over it now do you."

"No," Frodo agreed breathlessly, "I wouldn't want that. It might stain." 

Keeping his eyes closed, he pulled his nightshirt up over his head, shivering at
the cool air that touched his bare skin. He could feel Sam's eyes on him, burning
into his skin, drinking the sight of him in. He trembled and worried at his bottom
lip with his teeth.

He felt another mushroom touch his lips, and opened his mouth again. But, this
time, instead of calloused fingers, his lips met Sam's in a buttery kiss. A drop of
melted butter rolled down Frodo's chin, making him jolt as it dropped onto the front of
his hip, warm against his skin. He peeked out from under his lashes as Sam's mouth
left his, Sam's eyes sweeping down his body to where the yellowy drop sat.

"Oh," Frodo moaned, as Sam's mouth descended on his skin, tongue swirling
circles, collecting the oily liquid and sending sparks of pleasure jolting up Frodo's
spine. "No more mushrooms, Sam. Kiss me," he breathed, his voice low.

"But, Frodo, mushrooms are your favourite," Sam stated, a wickedly playful smile 
crossing his lips as he continued brushing his tongue across Frodo's thigh;
moving slowly downward.

"Sam, please," choked Frodo, his voice trembling.

Sam glanced up through his lashes, Frodo's eyes were still closed, his chest
heaving and his lips trembling as he moaned --half in protest and half in plea. Sam ran
his hands up Frodo's chest, palms sliding over taut nipples, friction making Frodo
draw in a sharp breath. 

"Please," Frodo whispered again. If Sam didn't touch him soon, he would surely
burst with wanting. He bit his lip to stifle another unbidden moan that threatened to
leap from his lips as he felt Sam's curls brush teasingly along his arousal, followed
by hot breath. 

At the first touch of Sam's tongue, Frodo was unable to suppress the shudder
that snapped his head back; nor could he withhold the keening cry that flew into the
air of the bedroom as he felt himself enveloped in velvet heat. He fell back into
the pillows, his hips undulating in a helpless rhythm and his hands clenching and 
unclenching at his sides.

Sharp breath's escalated to cries as Sam moved, lips and tongue teasing
alternately as hands ran across Frodo's chest, pausing only to allow fingers time to graze
dark circles; an action that caused Frodo to arch upwards.

"Sam, need... oh... Saaa... I want --Oh you!"

Frodo grasped Sam firmly by the shoulders, pulling him up and claiming his lips
in a kiss that deprived Sam of all thought (a thing that happened often --at least 
where Frodo was concerned) except the feel of Frodo's skin through his clothes. 
Frodo's tongue slid against his, setting his whole head tingling. 

Frodo began to hastily unfasten the buttons of Sam's shirt, practically tearing
it from his body in an effort to reach the skin underneath. Sliding his hands up
Sam's back and pulling him closer still as he continued to devour Sam's mouth with 
ferocious urgency.

Flipping them over, Frodo pinned Sam beneath him, gripping Sam's wrists and
holding them above his head, staring down at him, breath coming in jagged gasps. His
eyes flashing blue fire, Frodo ground his hips slowly down into Sam, pressing his s
training erection hard against Sam's through the fabric of his breeches. 
"What do you want Sam?" he questioned, voice quivering as he spoke.

"I want, Oh...I want... Frodo!" Sam gasped, unable to speak more than those 
fragmented words.

"Tell me, Samwise," commanded Frodo, his voice carrying an edge of simmering
heat and desire that Sam knew threatened to overwhelm them both.

"Frodo, I want, Oh, I want you!" the last words practically a cry as Sam surged
upward, unable to restrain the instinct that soared through his body as he lay gasping
and sweating beneath Frodo. Eyes once blue, now black and filled with liquid heat as 
Frodo let his head fall to Sam's chest and clutched so hard at Sam's shoulders
that Sam knew there would be indents probably lasting until well into the next day.

Frodo pushed downwards once more, tilting his head to run his tongue slowly
along the ridge of Sam's ear down to the lobe, drawing it into his mouth and sucking. Then 
releasing it to murmur softly into Sam's ear, "Let me see you."

Sam shivered, and Frodo eased himself upwards so that he was straddling Sam's
thighs, tracing his fingers down Sam's body to the waistband of his breeches. He paused
and looked into Sam's eyes, their hazel colour full of unspoken words and longing.

Frodo smiled and leaned down to kiss Sam again, slowly, savouring the taste and
feel of Sam's mouth, and then raised himself up again, his hands returning to Sam's
breeches, nimble fingers undoing the buttons one by one. Frodo shifted to allow room to
pull the breeches over Sam's hips and then down his legs, letting them fall carelessly
off the end of the bed and onto the floor. Then Frodo leaned over Sam on all fours,
flushed and breathless, two spots of colour high on his cheeks.

"You're beautiful, Sam," Frodo said, and he ducked his head down to run his
tongue along Sam's inner thigh, and then nip gently at the skin at the top of Sam's leg,
feeling soft curls brushing his cheek as he moved. Sam groaned in appreciation and reached
down to pull Frodo up to him. Frodo came willingly, but only long enough to scatter
kisses on Sam's face and tell him in a gentle voice, "Patience, my dear Sam," before
slipping back down Sam's body and continuing his previous activity, this time at the hollow of
Sam's thigh.

"Oh," Sam whimpered, his eyes falling helplessly shut as Frodo worked his way
slowly back up Sam's body again, lips teasing lightly and tongue flicking deftly into Sam's
navel before moving further up to trace a path up the sensitive skin at Sam's side.
Sam jerked, the sound he made something between a laugh, a growl, and Frodo's name. Frodo
smiled and moved to capture Sam's nipple between his lips, pressing his mouth down and
twirling his tongue in circles as Sam gasped and writhed, pressing his own hands into Frodo's
back and trying to urge him closer.

Frodo just laughed softly against Sam's skin, continuing his tormentingly slow
exploration up to Sam's neck, his mouth hot and his teeth nibbling gently at Sam's ear. 
"Sam," whispered Frodo, hot air swishing past Sam's ear and making him shiver, 
"Close your eyes." Sam did so, without hesitation, feeling his lashes tickle
against his cheeks and then cool air on his skin as Frodo once again lifted his body
upwards.

"Frodo?" Sam asked, almost opening his eyes.

"Ssh, Sam," Frodo replied. Sam felt Frodo lean over to one side for a moment and
then shift until he was sat completely astride Sam's hips. "You know, Sam," said Frodo, his
voice low and silvered with amusement, "I think I'm still hungry," and Sam felt something
warm and oily being placed on his chest and gasped again. 

"Mmm," Frodo mumbled as he leaned down to claim the mushroom, swallowing it and
then licking Sam clean of drops of butter before reaching for another. This one he placed on
the left side of Sam's chest. "You make a very good plate, Sam," Frodo chuckled after he
had retrieved that one. Sam just nodded, moaning loudly as Frodo placed another mushroom on
his skin and then removed it in the same manner as before. Although Sam didn't think that
there could have been quite as much butter as Frodo seemed to think, and it certainly
couldn't have gotten quite as far away from where Frodo had put the mushroom.

"Hmm," Frodo mused, when he finally lifted his head again, "very unsteady up
this high, you know. Perhaps I should put the next one..."

Sam felt a mushroom land on his stomach.

"...lower."

And Sam didn't care how far Frodo thought a few drops of melted butter could go,
not when Frodo was doing, whatever it was he was doing with that oh so talented mouth of
his. In fact, Sam was rapidly losing the capacity for more rational thought altogether and his
mind seemed to be rather attached to the words, 'more', 'oh', and 'Frodo'; although he
couldn't quite manage to form any of those words coherently with his mouth. The words currently
issuing from said mouth were more comparable to, 'uunhhh', 'frrrmmm', and 'guh' -and
Frodo, if his mouth had not been otherwise occupied at the present time, might have pointed
out that (one could reasonably argue) those are not words at all.

Whatever it was that Frodo was doing stopped abruptly when Sam, some blood flow
finally managing to reach his brain, pulled Frodo up and flipped them both over, pinning
Frodo beneath him. And as soon as Frodo's mouth was no longer engaged in the activity
it had been before, Sam found that his ability to form words returned (although in a
limited capacity) and the rather muddled and broken sentence of, "You... Oh... Oil... Now," seemed
to find it's way into existence.

Frodo nodded vigorously and reached blindly to the bedside, knocking several
things onto the floor in his haste to find the required item. 

Frodo, unlike Sam, had managed to retain a capability for thought and once he
had the small glass vial in his hand, he urged Sam back down onto the bed, once again
positioning himself so that he was looming over him on all fours. Sam gasped, his now considerably less
clouded mind realising that, once again, Frodo had gotten the upper hand. He mentally berated
himself and vowed that, one day, he would find out what it took to reduce Frodo Baggins to a
mass of quivering pleading hobbit -even if it took years (and another part of his body
was very excited by the 'even if it took years' part of that chain of thought). 

But Sam had no more time to pursue the matter now, as Frodo (who was making it
very clear that thinking was not likely to be part of Sam's repertoire for much longer) had
turned his attention -and that of his mouth- back to part of Sam's body he had been
occupied with a few minutes previous.

Sam, who's chain of thought had also returned to where it was a few minutes ago,
threw his head back against the pillow. "Frodo, please," Sam panted, clutching the
bedcovers tightly in his hands, his hips twitching upwards uncontrollably as Frodo continued to
lick and tease with his mouth.

"Please," Sam begged again when Frodo stilled momentarily. The light scent of
sweet smelling oil reached Sam's nose and he shivered in anticipation and then moaned when he
felt Frodo's hand, slick with oil, encircling him; running up and down a few times and then
slipping down between his legs to tease and circle the entrance there. Sam pushed himself down
onto Frodo's finger when he felt it enter him, whimpering helplessly as Frodo began to ease
the slick digit in and out slowly. 

Frodo moved up to capture Sam's lips, his mouth hot and wet and his tongue
insistent as he eased another finger into Sam; he ground his own erection against Sam's thigh
impatiently, groaning deep in his throat at the friction that sent bolts of pleasure racing
up his spine. 

Frodo reached down with his free hand, still slippery with oil, and touched
himself, coating his hard length before easing his fingers out and shifting so that he was
between Sam's legs. Sam looked up at him, his eyes trusting and filled with need and Frodo eased
into him, slowly rocking his hips, crushing his chest to Sam's and kissing Sam's neck.

Sam pushed upwards beneath him, curling his legs around Frodo and urging him
closer, wordlessly asking for more and faster, running his hand down Frodo's back and slamming
Frodo closer as he arched up, his other hand tangling through Frodo's curls and drawing his head
down to kiss, hard and insistent.

"Sam... yes!" Frodo gasped, between kisses; moving faster now, electric-like
sparks flooding throughout his entire body as he clung to Sam, casting his head back toward the
ceiling and crying out louder as Sam buried his head into his shoulder, hot breath sending
shivers racing down his spine.

"Fro! uhh..." Sam jerked and then tensed, warmth pooling on his stomach. Frodo
felt it, slick against his skin and gasped, he thrust hard two more times and then shuddered as
his own release washed over him.

Frodo pressed close to Sam, kissing him tenderly, softly and Sam wrapped his
arms about Frodo's waist lightly, his eyes falling closed. Sighing contentedly, Frodo
slipped sideways and curled himself into Sam's body, resting his head on Sam's shoulder. 

Sam reached up to brush the curls away from Frodo's forehead and Frodo looked up
at him and smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Love you," Frodo said, simply.

"Love you too," Sam replied.