Title: Pleasure of the Pain Author/Email: The Bard Talasye (thebardtalasye@yahoo.com) Pairing: Frodo/Sam Genre: Romance/Humour Rating:NC-17 Summary: Frodo has an erotic dream about Sam while in Mordor, that turns into a nightmare, or does he? Slight AU, slight ansgt Archive: If you'd like it, just let me know so I can visit your archive. Disclaimers: We wish we did, don't we, yes we do, we know we do. Feedback: Yes Please! Warning(s): Slash, AU, and bondage Author's Notes: Inspired by reading way too much slash all in one morning while high on too many teenage hormones (damn those hormones) that have no other direction to be expended in.*sigh* Kudos to all my favourite slash writers, I hope I do you justice. Sam woke from the screaming that was coming from a source very near his ear, knowing instinctively that it was Frodo, who lay next to him. He sat up and shook the other hobbit, whose face was contorted in fear, and was breathing fast as though Frodo had been running. Frodo's eyes snapped open, unfocused and still filled with fear. "Mister Frodo?" said Sam, gently but urgently. Frodo collected himself, coming fully awake and realizing where he was, huddled under the lee of some rocks in Mordor. "Are you all right sir?" "Yes Sam, I'm fine, it was just a dream." "No doubt caused by that ring you have there." Sam made no attempt to hide his contempt for the evil his master had been made to bear. "No, I don't think so. It was about the slash writers. They were after me." "The slash writers? What are they? Are you sure you don't mean the Black Riders?" "They were chasing me, oh, it's awful. All those creatures they put me with, anything that walked or crawled on Middle-Earth and even some things that don't. They did such horrible things." Sam gathered Frodo up in a bundle, "Now there, Mister Frodo, it's just an evil dream caused by that accursed ring. Best to forget." Frodo calmed in Sam's embrace, "It didn't start out so bad, it actually started out really good." he mumbled. "Would you like to tell me about it, the good part at least?" inquired Sam. "It was just a dream Sam, let it be." "All right." Said Sam, shifting around so that he could lie down again but still keep a firm hold on Frodo. Frodo wiggled closer as though for warmth, Sam could feel the other hobbits cold toes against his own. Sam was drifting off to sleep when Frodo began to talk. From the distant sound in Frodo's voice Sam knew that he was talking more to himself than Sam. "You were working in the garden, pulling weeds from under the forsythia. It was summer. I sat in the cool dark of Bag End watching you through a window like I sometimes do. Then I went out with some old fishing nets I had tied together. I threw them over you until you were all tangled, then I led you inside, all the way to my room." Frodo paused, Sam continued to listen, eyes closed, breathing evenly. "I pushed you onto my bed, I took two ropes and tied your wrists up to the bed posts. Then I pulled off the nets and went searching for a handkerchief. You watched me intently the entire time, in eager anticipation. When I found the handkerchief I set it aside. I took of your shirt, very slowly, letting my fingers brush you skin the entire time. Then I stripped myself, even more slowly and you watched my every movement with growing interest. I finally threw my trousers on the floor and straddled your waist. I tied the handkerchief around you eyes. You protested that, but I had other ideas, apparently. I wrapped my legs around you, hooking my feet together behind your back to hold on tightly. I press my lips to your mouth, for awhile I forget all else and lose myself in you mouth. Such soft, plump lips you have Sam, mmm, I wanted to eat them. Instead, I decide to focus on you neck, giving it proper attention. If you were still talking, I hardly noticed. I was too busy kissing your neck, too busy letting my hands roam over you back and chest. Eventually I put those hands to rest, one under your trousers on your rear and the other at the base of your neck. I work my way slowly down you with my mouth. All the while I rocked my hips against yours. Rubbing myself against the worn fabric of your trousers, feeling you respond to me, which only made me increase the friction. You're moaning low in our throat, it's a hungry sound that never seemed to start and didn't seem to end. I moan too, as I stop my rocking motion to let my mouth wander down your chest to your bellybutton. I let my tongue wander into it, a shiver runs along your skin in response. I give the bulging crotch of your trousers a squeeze, and you writhe under me, but I continue to kiss and toy with your bellybutton, before nosing my way down to your waistband. I think you were begging me to take off your trousers, but I ignore you and resume my former position. You're in ecstasy over the pleasure of the pain, I can see it, there'll be time later to release you, and time for me to toy with those possibilities too. I kiss you again, betraying my own impatience and desire for you. You are moving your hips upwards as best you can with me sitting on them, in motion with my own rocking. My own erection is held between our bellies, you know this, you can feel it. From the corner of my eye I see you making a grasping motion with one of your hands as I kiss you. I take one of your fingers into my mouth, teasing it with my tongue, teasing you. I then lengthen the ropes holding you to the headboard so that you no longer have to sit up. I lay you down, but remain sitting on your arousal. I continue that hypnotic rocking motion until I slowly began to lay myself on you and administer to you with my mouth, all the while thrusting my hips into yours. I reach down with one hand and begin to squeeze you rhythmically. Your face is red, you are sweating and tears run down your face. I lick them up. I capture your lips once more, and we remain locked together in a quiet, rhythmic motion for quite some time, with me occasionally giving you the odd squeeze. I finally decide that you-----and I---- have had enough. I draw myself up, kneeling on the bed and use my mouth to open you trousers. I nudge the two pieces of cloth aside with my nose and free you entirely with one swift tug, your trousers join mine on the floor. You are flushed, swollen and quivering with need. But I ignore your member for a moment, for I desire to capture your mouth again. Our bodies lock together again and my skin slides against your skin, you are breathing easier now that I have freed you. Eventually I work my way down you with my mouth again, slowly, teasingly. Your bellybutton receives the same treatment as the last time, if not more. I use my knees to separate your legs and spread them as far apart as possible. Then I duck my head under your member, ignoring it once more, I pay special attention to the space beyond it. I take each one in my mouth in turn, then both. I suck them and use my tongue to play with them. I treat all the skin in that area with special attention as you writhe and moan somewhere above me as I discover a new world. Your member is straining against its need and I finally pay it proper attention, first with a few caresses from my hands, marveling at the feel of it. Then I take you in my mouth and bring you----and myself— near the bursting point, but not quite there. I remove the blindfold quickly and cut your bonds with a nearby pair of scissors. You flip us over so that you lovely weight is on top of me and we are rocking together in a motion neither of us has ever felt before. We moan and gasp into each others mouth. Then we come undone, together. That's where it gets bad, after all that." whispered Frodo. He snuggled against Sam who was seemingly asleep. "See? How could I tell you such an obscene thing." Frodo lay quiet for awhile listening to Sam breathe. "I only wish you could understand how much I love you." Sam remained still, having listened to every word, but he wished not to betray that he had been eavesdropping. The next morning Frodo woke tangled in his bed sheets, drenched in sweat and on the floor of his Bag End bedroom. He rubbed his head ruefully where he must have hit the floor in his fall. He disentangled himself while remembering the odd dream he had had about Bilbo's old magic ring and Sam. He smiled, remembering mostly the part that included Sam. Summer sunshine floated through the window and with it the sound of his gardener humming while he worked. Frodo rose, his dream had let vent his frustration for his secret love of Sam, and given him some ideas that he did not need in his head. Sure, his imagination often ran away with him in the daylight, deciding just what he would do with Sam if he could, but he never thought that he would tie his gardener up, however it had been an awfully good dream, if his tangled sheets were any proof. He stumbled his way into the kitchen to find breakfast, or leftover pie, whatever. He set himself a nice breakfast at the table, and ate it in a way that only a hobbit can. Then he made himself a pot of tea and took it into his study. Sam was working in the garden bed across the way from the window. The sight of him brought to mind vivid memories of Frodo's dream, and he found himself reliving the highlights in his mind. Lost in these thoughts, Frodo forgot for a moment where he was and what he was doing, accidentally spilling his tea cup in his lap, which awoke a resolve in him to end his self torturing fantasies about Sam. The only problem was that he did not know how to do it, or if he could.