Title: Stolen Kiss
Author: Kathryn Ramage
Email: kramage@erols.com
Pairing: Frodo/Sam 
Rating: NC17

Summary: Frodo gives out little favors of affection to Sam, but always holds 
back from giving more... until Sam takes matters into his own hands.

Disclaimer: The characters and overall storyline aren't mine. They belong to 
J.R.R. Tolkien's estate, and I'm just playing with them to entertain myself and 
anyone else who likes this kind of thing. 

July 2004 

!~*~!

"Mordor," said Frodo. "We were there only a few weeks ago, and yet it seems like 
another lifetime." He sat beside Sam on the terrace of the house the Fellowship 
shared in Minas Tirith; they had climbed up onto the high wall to look out over 
the Pelennor fields, Osgiliath, and the mountains that bordered the dark lands 
beyond. "Look--you can see the cleft in the foothills, where we went up the 
passage to the Morgul Vale and the long stair. Remember, Sam?" 

"I remember," Sam answered, although he would much rather forget. He'd rather 
not be looking at Mordor at all, but once Frodo had climbed up here, what else 
could he do but join him?

"I never thanked you properly."

"Thanked me?" He regarded Frodo in surprise. "Whatever for?"

"For standing by me during those awful days, in spite of how badly I treated 
you," Frodo told him. "For everything you did, not only when we were in Mordor, 
but all through our journey." And taking Sam's hand, which rested atop the wall 
near his own, he gave it a squeeze. "It really was wonderful of you."

Sam ducked his head. "It wasn't anything," he mumbled bashfully.

"Wasn't anything!" Frodo echoed with an incredulous laugh. "Sam, you fought a 
giant spider and stormed a tower filled with orcs to rescue me! That is most 
certainly something. You stayed with me `til the end of the quest, knowing that 
we were facing our deaths. I can't imagine what could be more brave." 

Sam's ears and face began to glow warmly at this praise. And when Frodo moved a 
little closer-!

"I can't ever say how grateful I am that you were there," Frodo went on as he 
settled against Sam, sliding back to nestle with his shoulder-blades to Sam's 
chest and head on his collar. "I would have died in Mordor without you, and the 
quest would have failed. There's no way I can ever repay you for that." 

Sam slipped an arm around him, dizzy with happiness. While he was gratified to 
know that his efforts were appreciated, he wanted no reward. This was all he 
desired, these wonderful moments with Frodo to be treasured. "There shouldn't be 
any question of thanking, not between you and me," he said. "I never asked for 
your thanks. You know why I did it--why I did everything." Emboldened by the 
head-spinning sensation of being so close, he buried his face in Frodo's hair 
and whispered, "It was all for you, Frodo."

Frodo twisted around to smile at him. "Yes, I know that." His eyes flickered 
over Sam's face. "Would you like to kiss me?"

"Can I?" asked Sam, startled by this unexpected, and unhoped-for, invitation. 
Would he like to? What a silly question!

Frodo nodded and leaned forward, lifting his chin just a little to offer his 
mouth. 

Sam leaned in to meet him, the sound of his heart pounding hard in his ears. 
There was a brief press of lips--no more than a few seconds--and just as their 
tightly pursed mouths relaxed to open to each other, Frodo drew back quickly, 
looking rather surprised and perplexed. He squirmed to climb down off the wall. 
Sam put out a hand to detain him, but Frodo eluded it easily, jumped down, and 
began to walk away.

"Frodo, wait!" Sam called out as he clambered down after him. "What's the 
matter?"

Frodo stopped halfway across the terrace. "Nothing," he answered without 
turning. 

"Wasn't it all right?"

"It was fine, Sam. It was very sweet. Thank you."

Sam was confused, but this was enough to reassure him that, at least, he had not 
done anything wrong. "Can we-?" he asked hesitantly, hopefully. "Can we do it 
again?"

"Yes, of course." Frodo turned. His cheeks were bright, but his expression was 
composed. He smiled at Sam and said, "But not just now," then he went into the 
house.

Sam watched him go, heart still thumping. He didn't know what made Frodo dart 
off like that, but he was sure of one thing: While there had always been love 
between them, that kiss had awakened something new, fierce, and exciting in his 
feelings for his friend. It wasn't enough to have Frodo cuddle close to him. He 
wanted more.

!~*~!

Thereafter, there was more--hand-holdings, hugs, and once or twice, Frodo had 
even let Sam kiss his mouth. Sam knew he ought to be deliriously happy, but he 
wasn't. No matter what Frodo gave him, it was never enough. The exciting new 
feeling inside of him was not satisfied; since that first kiss on the terrace, 
he felt as if he were living only for the next, and the next one only made him 
hungrier for another after that. 

It seemed to Sam that even when they were close, there was a distance between 
them. Frodo always held himself back. Oh, he was generous enough with his 
gestures of affection, but never as eager to cuddle and kiss as Sam was, and he 
pulled away just when Sam wanted most to go on. 

This behavior was baffling as well as frustrating, but what could he do except 
wait for Frodo to hold out a hand to him and hope that, this time, he would 
receive more than a quick brush of lips? He couldn't grab Frodo, could he? No. 
In spite of the barriers they had already breached, Frodo was still his master, 
still his gentleman. Touching him without permission was unthinkable.

But he _had_ thought of it and, once he did, he thought of it often. Some 
nights, he lay awake tossing restlessly at the ideas that came into his head. He 
thought about kissing Frodo--not quickly, but for a good, long time. He imagined 
wrapping both arms tightly about Frodo and Frodo not pulling back, but melding 
to him and returning his kisses with the same hunger as _he_ felt. He thought 
about touching--not little squeezes of fingertips, but hands stealing under 
clothing, unfastening buttons, exploring what lay beneath. He thought about 
lying in bed with Frodo. The whispers and sly jokes of older hobbit-lads he'd 
overheard gave him some notion of what people did in bed together, and his 
imagination filled in the gaps in his knowledge. At this point in his 
imaginings, he usually began to touch himself; it relieved the physical ache for 
awhile, enough to let him get to sleep, but his heart remained in a tumult. 

He sometimes wished with all his might that Frodo had never offered him that 
first kiss and awakened this longing within him. But at the same time, he felt 
as if it were the most wonderful thing to ever happen to him, and he didn't know 
what he would do if it were to stop.

!~*~!

One afternoon when they were alone in the house, the two hobbits visited 
Gandalf's room on the upper floor. There was a cubby in the wizard's room that 
served as a study, which contained shelves full of books that had belonged to 
the previous occupants of the house. Frodo was returning the books he had 
borrowed and Sam accompanied him, carrying an armload.

Frodo pulled the chair from the wizard's desk closer to one shelf-lined wall and 
climbed up to restore the books to their proper places. Sam handed them up to 
him one by one. When Frodo had finished this task, he tilted his head to study 
the titles on the spines of the books he hadn't read yet.

"What is it you're looking for?" asked Sam, ready to be of help if Frodo was 
searching for something in particular.

"Oh, anything that looks interesting. Gandalf said I could take whatever I 
liked." Frodo pulled a book from its place to look at the cover, then glanced 
over the first few pages. "There are quite a number of good books here. All 
sorts--history, poetry, romance." He handed his first choice to Sam and crouched 
down to select another book from a lower shelf, the tale of Amroth and Nimrodel. 
Frodo opened the book to the frontispiece, an illustration of the couple 
embracing amid a green-and-golden bower of leaves, and smiled. "I used to read 
love stories such as this and wonder what it would be like to be in love 
myself." He gave this book to Sam as well.

"Are you?" Sam asked eagerly. "In love, that is?"

Frodo laughed at the question. "Yes, Yes, I am. Didn't you know?" He was still 
smiling as he put his hand on Sam's shoulder to steady himself and climbed down 
off the chair. He took the books back from Sam and, tucking them under one arm, 
left the wizard's room. Sam followed him out and caught up with him in the 
hallway. As they walked toward the stairs, Frodo slipped his free arm around his 
friend's waist and leaned on him.

Sam was suddenly aware of how quiet the empty house was around them: the only 
sound he could hear was the echo of their feet padding on the bare wooden floor. 
Was this the right time? Frodo's playful words had certainly been encouraging. 
Should he try it? Did he dare?

Summoning all his nerve, he stopped before they came to the end of the hallway. 
One hand rested in the small of Frodo's back, and he used it to turn Frodo 
toward him and bring him close. The books dropped to the floor with a bang. Sam 
didn't ask for permission, nor try to explain, but drew in for a kiss.

But before he could do it, Frodo put a hand on his chest to hold him back. "No, 
Sam. Not now."

"Why not?" Sam demanded, frustrated at being put off once again. "Can't I kiss 
you when _I_ want to? Or is it only when you feel like it?" 

"You wouldn't want me to give out kisses against my will, would you?" Frodo 
replied as he squirmed free. He didn't sound angry, but spoke in that same light 
and playful tone, almost as if he were laughing--and Sam was in no mood for 
being laughed at. 

"No," he answered heatedly, "but I want you to have some feelings about it. You 
never want to kiss as much as I do. I'm living on the hope of it, and you'd just 
as soon do it as not. You ought to stop. `Tisn't fair for you to cuddle up and 
talk about love when you don't really mean it." The last thing he wanted was for 
this to stop--he would put up with just about anything for one more chance at 
those rare kisses--but, all the same, he was tired of being teased and held at a 
distance, of having his hopes drawn out with no end in sight. If this kept up 
much longer, he thought he would explode. They must have it out. "You don't mean 
it, do you, Frodo?" 

Frodo looked puzzled and a little alarmed by this outburst. "Of course I do!" he 
protested. "You know how dearly I love you."

Sam choked at the words. "But not in the same way. I _love_ you."

"I know, Sam."

"No, you don't!" It was a cry of pain. Frodo didn't care as deeply as he did; 
Sam had no choice but to face that. Was there nothing he could do to make Frodo 
feel differently?

Frodo's eyes anxiously searched his face, then his expression softened with 
sympathy. "All right, Sam," he said. "There's no need to make such a fuss about 
it. If you want a kiss so badly, you can have one."

Was this to be another one of those quick little kisses to placate him? No, not 
this time. If it was about to end, then Sam meant to do this, just once, before 
it was all over. He would take his chance while he had it. 
 
When Frodo leaned closer, Sam took his head between both hands and kissed him 
the way he'd always wanted to. Frodo made a small sound of surprise at being 
kissed so insistently. His fingers fluttered over Sam's hands, then his face as 
he tried to push him off. Then, slowly, the fluttering fingers circled to the 
back of Sam's head and the nape of his neck. He stopped struggling.

"There!" said Sam when he finally let Frodo go. "D'you understand now? It's 
driven me half-mad not to do that before. It's all I think about, `til I can't 
rest for wanting you. I love you, Frodo! Can't you see?" He seized Frodo by the 
shoulders, and shook him to punctuate each word. "I! Love! You!" 

Frodo stared at him with eyes that were enormous and wild, and Sam immediately 
released him, horrified at himself. He'd only wanted to shake some sense into 
Frodo, to make him see how strongly he felt, and he'd gone too far. Frodo must 
be furious at him for such rough treatment.

"Oh, my dear." Sam put a hand to the side of his face then, when Frodo did not 
pull away from the touch, stroked and smoothed down his mussed hair. "I'm so 
sorry. Please, don't be angry. I didn't mean to harm you."

"I'm not angry," Frodo answered. He sounded rather dazed. "And I haven't been 
harmed."

Sam was so relieved to hear this that he kissed Frodo on the temple, then again 
on the cheek beside his mouth; Frodo shut his eyes and turned his head slightly 
so that their lips brushed.

Sam froze. Frodo might forgive him, but surely wasn't about to let him have 
another kiss after that last one! He couldn't take such liberties again... could 
he?

Their mouths were barely touching. He could feel the warmth of Frodo's breath on 
his lips. Sam had only just made up his mind to press a little harder, when they 
both heard footsteps coming up the stairs and he started back guiltily. Had 
someone come in? He hadn't heard, but then he'd been distracted by more 
important matters these past few minutes. Gandalf was not the only one who had a 
room on this floor, but Legolas and Gimli did as well. While there was no reason 
why he and Frodo shouldn't be here, Sam would rather not be caught now by any of 
their companions and have to explain. 

He didn't move until Frodo took his arm and yanked him through the nearest door, 
into a room that none of the Fellowship was using. The rugs were rolled up 
against the walls; most of the furniture had been removed, and the bed stood 
bare, its curtains taken down and only a dust sheet spread to cover the 
mattress. 

Sam stood behind the door, left open a crack, and peeked out to see that it 
wasn't one of the Fellowship coming, but the laundry maid who tended the 
household twice a week. She paused to puzzle at the books lying in the middle of 
the hallway floor, then went on with her work. Sam listened as she walked past, 
into the bathroom farther down the hall, and came out again a moment later. When 
she had gone and it was quiet, he turned to find Frodo standing close beside 
him, watching him intently with eyes that still had some wildness in them. 

"Frodo, I'm sorry-" he began, and got no farther. Frodo kissed him with a 
ferocity that took him utterly by surprise and sent him stumbling back against 
the door. This was nothing like those chaste little pecks he'd been permitted to 
receive before! 

Here he'd been waiting so patiently, hoping for any small favor, and Frodo only 
burst afire once he'd been grabbed and kissed hard. If that was all it took, 
then he should have done it long ago!

"I didn't know, Sam!" Frodo said, panting when he stopped. He let his brow rest 
on Sam's shoulder and gripped a fistful of his shirt collar. "Is _this_ what 
you've been feeling all along? This-" He lifted his head and reached up to wrap 
his arm around Sam's neck. Between more kisses, he went on, "You were right. I 
didn't understand. It was cruel of me. You must think I'm awful, playing with 
you."

"No." Although, in those moments when he'd felt most thwarted by Frodo's 
infuriating restraint, Sam had begun to wonder if it weren't so. "I didn't think 
you knew. You didn't feel the same, so you didn't see what it was doing to me. 
You didn't, did you?"

"No- That is, I didn't want to. I was afraid to." He stepped away from Sam as he 
explained, "That first time I let you kiss me, Sam--I only did it because I 
wanted to thank you for all you'd done. I wanted to make you happy. I didn't 
realize what it would be like, what I could feel when we were close."

"You mean, you liked it?" 

"Yes," Frodo admitted, "and it frightened me. I didn't know where it would lead 
us, and so I ran away."

"But you came back to me. You've let it go on."

"I thought I could keep things from going too far. I wanted you to be happy," he 
repeated.

"I wasn't happy," Sam told him. "I was miserable, wanting more'n you were 
giving."

Frodo stared into his eyes, then he spoke softly, "I'm not afraid now, Sam." He 
stepped back again, and almost tumbled onto the bed when he ran into it. "I 
won't make you wait any longer." 

"What, _here_?" Sam asked, amazed not only that Frodo was actually saying this, 
but that he was saying it in an empty room. 

Frodo nodded. 

Sam didn't understand this sudden urgency. He couldn't suspect Frodo of doing 
this only to try and please him--not after that kiss! Maybe Frodo was afraid he 
would change his mind if they delayed long enough to go downstairs. In any case, 
he wasn't about to argue. Frodo _was_ there, holding out a hand to him, just as 
he'd always wished it could be. 

"Come to me now, Sam. Please-!"

Imagine that: Frodo, begging _him_!

Sam went to him. 

They clung to each other, hands going everywhere, kisses flying. Frodo was still 
standing with his back to the bed; he squirmed to sit on the edge of the 
mattress. With a gentle push, Sam sent him backwards. A puff of dust rose up 
around them as they landed side by side on the sheet, and made them both sneeze. 
When they resumed kissing, Sam unbuttoned Frodo's waistcoat and shirt, then 
kissed down his chest, one hand moving ahead of his mouth to pull open the 
garments and kiss lower. Once he'd gone low enough, he unfastened Frodo's 
trousers too and slipped one hand down inside.

"Sam-!"

Sam withdrew his hand immediately. 

Frodo sat up. Disheveled, dust in his hair, braces dangling off his elbows, and 
clothing all undone, he looked as if he'd been ravished.

"D'you want to stop?" Sam asked, worried again that he'd gone too far.

Frodo shook his head, chin barely moving and eyes locked on Sam's as he took his 
hand and led it back. "Go on," he said before putting his arms around Sam's neck 
and giving him another kiss. 

Sam braced one arm at Frodo's back to support him in a slightly reclined 
position. With some shifting and wriggling, they managed to work Frodo's 
trousers down off his hips, allowing Sam to touch him more easily. It wasn't 
quite like touching himself--at this awkward angle, Sam had to be careful not to 
pull too hard in the wrong direction--but he used his own experience of what he 
liked best to please Frodo, fingers moving in long, firm strokes, until Frodo's 
head fell back and he let out a surprised cry.

The wetness, when it came, spilled mostly into the palm of Sam's hand; he let 
Frodo lie back on the bed while he wiped it off on the sheet. When he looked up, 
Frodo was lying curled with his eyes shut, long lashes on flushed cheeks, and 
lips parted. His chest rose and fell rapidly with each breath. Mussed and 
tousled as he was, Sam thought he'd never looked lovelier.

"Was that all right?" he asked.

"That was incredible," Frodo replied once his breath slowed to a more even pace. 
"I never thought I could feel anything like it." Then he laughed. "But it wasn't 
fair, Sam. I meant to give _you_ some pleasure."

"You did," Sam assured him. "I've been wanting to put my hands on you for so 
long. Besides, we'll do more, won't we? Maybe-?"

Frodo considered him from beneath lowered lashes, and nodded. "Yes, there's more 
I can do." When he sat up and reached to unfasten Sam's trouser buttons, Sam 
thought he intended to return the favor. It wasn't until Frodo pushed his own 
trousers and underclothes off and kicked them onto the floor, and then slowly, 
shyly, opened to him, that Sam was astonished to realize what Frodo was inviting 
him to do. 

Before he could recover from his astonishment, Frodo had pulled him down. There 
was a moment of clumsiness once they'd shed the rest of their clothing and tried 
to figure out how to bring their bodies together; their knees and elbows always 
seemed to be in the way. Sam sought the place to enter. When he found it, and 
thrust, Frodo cried out sharply and flinched beneath him. Sam stopped. Was it 
supposed to hurt like that? He didn't know--he'd never done this before. Maybe 
he wasn't doing it properly. 

When a second, more tentative thrust made it clear that he was hurting Frodo too 
much, Sam gave it up. "There now, my dear," he soothed Frodo with tender kisses 
and stroked his dark curls. "Don't fret over it. It doesn't matter. You don't 
have to do this if you don't want to."

"No, I want to," Frodo insisted. "I'm not afraid! I want to know, to feel 
_everything_. Please, can't we try again?"

"You're sure you want to..." While Sam was reluctant to do anything that might 
harm Frodo, he wanted this so much himself that he was willing to go on if Frodo 
said it was all right. "I suppose we might go at it a bit differently." He gave 
the problem some thought, then said, "Here, let's try this." 

Sam rolled onto his side, cradling Frodo half atop him. He had been running one 
hand comfortingly down Frodo's back; now, he caressed lower, rounding the firm 
curves of Frodo's bottom, then cautiously exploring the cleft between with the 
tip of one finger. As he explored more deeply, gently stretching the tense 
circle of muscle and making it relax, Frodo squirmed to press closer against 
him, wrapping one leg around his legs and rubbing his hips on Sam's thigh. He 
nuzzled the hollow of Sam's throat and made soft sounds of pleasure, punctuated 
by occasional gasps. His own hand kneaded the soft flesh of Sam's tummy like a 
newborn kitten, then he reached down between their bodies to fondle in return... 
but only lightly. The touch was enough to keep Sam excited, but not enough to 
finish him off before they'd started.

At last, Frodo spoke in a faintly strained and husky voice, "All right, Sam. I'm 
ready." 

They rolled over again. Sam proceeded carefully; after that first failed 
attempt, he didn't want anything to go wrong. The way in _was_ easier this time-
-but to Sam's alarm, Frodo suddenly arched his back and he let out another sharp 
cry. His hands roamed over Sam's shoulders and chest and he seemed to be 
struggling. For a horrible moment, Sam was certain that Frodo was trying to push 
him away. 

Then Frodo sobbed, almost laughing, "Yes... Oh, yes!" His hands were on Sam's 
face. "Oh, my dear Sam!" And he pulled Sam's head down to kiss him again with 
that same fierce desire.

Sam's imagination had never gone so far as to foresee what it would really be 
like to make love. He didn't know what this felt like for Frodo, but _he_ was 
totally unprepared for the intensity of sensation that surged through him as he 
was received into that warm, tight place. No, he hadn't imagined _this_, this 
wondrous thing, beyond all his dreams. He couldn't help moaning aloud himself, 
and he began to thrust more vigorously, almost as if his body were out of his 
control and had been overtaken by some deep, forgotten instinct that drove him 
on. 

It was over with--too soon! If he could have, Sam would've liked to go on for 
hours. He would have liked to lie cuddled up with Frodo in his arms for a long 
time afterwards too, but the closed room became suffocatingly uncomfortable once 
the dust began to settle. 

Reluctantly, they rose and restored themselves and the room to order. The 
rumpled sheet on the bed was smoothed down; there were a few damp stains, but 
these wouldn't be noticeable once they had dried. They dressed quickly, brushing 
blobs of dust from each other's hair and clothes. 
 
"Thank you, Sam," Frodo said as he buttoned up his waistcoat.

Sam stared at him in confusion. "What for?"

"For showing me. I might have gone on, never knowing what it was truly like to 
love someone, if it weren't for you." Frodo looked up from his last of his 
buttons, smiling radiantly.

Sam beamed back at him. He was just beginning to know what it was like himself. 
The love he felt at this minute was a very different emotion than the one he'd 
felt when he'd grabbed and shook Frodo less than an hour ago. Then, he'd shouted 
out with the ache of unsatisfied longings for something he didn't believe he 
could ever have. This new feeling was less turbulent, but stronger and more 
complete. It wasn't merely that that aching need had been satisfied, but in 
coming together as lovers, they had shared themselves in a new way. The last of 
the barriers between them had fallen. They'd shared so much already, and grown 
very close--but never so close as they were right now.

Frodo went to the door, but paused before he opened it. "Shall I come to your 
room tonight, Sam?" he offered with a hint of playfulness. "We'll do this 
again?"

"Yes, of course!" Sam responded. "Tonight. Every night. As much as you like. I 
won't ever turn you away."

They emerged from the room. As Frodo picked up his books from the hallway floor, 
they could hear someone coming in at the front door, followed by a chatter of 
voices in the front hall below. "It looks like we finished just in time," he 
whispered to Sam. "We won't have a chance to wash up before they see us. Do I 
look all right?" 

"Lovely. But hold on. Wait a sec." Sam stopped him at the top of the stairs to 
remove one remaining fluff of dust from Frodo's hair, then stole one last kiss 
before they went down to greet their friends.

!~end~!