Title: Complete  F/S (4/?)   
Series:  Coming of Age 
Author: Diamond (juweldom@yahoo.com ) 
Rating: NC-17 
Characters: Sam, Pippin, Frodo, Merry; pairings--S/F, implied:  
F/M, S/P 
Category:  Angst, Romance, PWP 
Feedback:  Yes please--very new at this
Disclaimer:  Can I just have them all?  No really, all these 
characters are Tolkien's and I don't rightly know what he'd make of 
all this!  I do it all for love, not money.
Summary: Frodo and Sam consummate their love.
Notes: Sam's perspective.   Year is 1413 S.R., Frodo is 45, Sam is 
33, Merry is 31 and Pippin is 23.  
 
 
*****
"Coming of Age Part 4: 
 
"Complete"
 
**Sam**
 
"I love you, Sam.  I've always loved you this way.  I was simply 
too afraid to show it.  Do you forgive me?"
Sam felt his fear melt away, his shattered wits come together and 
realized he had been a fool again, trying to run away from his 
feelings as he had run from Mr. Frodo.  Joy washed over him and 
suddenly nothing else mattered; never in his wildest imagination 
had he pictured his dear master saying such words to him.  His 
eyes went to those ruby lips that had just kissed him, to a tear-
streaked face positively glowing in the moonlight, and he just had 
to draw him in for another kiss, take away any hurt he had just 
caused by his impulsive actions.  "I love you too, sir, I love you, 
my dear master.  I don't never want to be with anyone else again."
He brushed gently against Frodo's trembling lips, reveling in the 
feel of them, then with more boldness than he'd thought himself 
capable of, claimed them in a ravishing kiss that set him a aflame 
down to his furry toes.  He gripped Frodo around the waist and 
pressed into him and rejoiced to find he wasn't the only one 
suffering a fullness in the groin, moaning as the hard swell in 
Frodo's trousers rubbed against his own, setting off dancing lights 
in his head like a swarm of fireflies.
Frodo grabbed his hips and thrust in, as his tongue lapped at Sam's 
with a hunger Sam would never have attributed to him—close, had 
he called Mr. Baggins?  Not once his barriers were down!  Frodo 
was making his own soft mewling sounds, sounds that only served 
to stoke the flames in Sam—he thought distractedly that they'd 
best get a move into the smial before they set the brush on fire.
Frodo seemed to reach the same conclusion; with a look of regret 
he broke off the kiss and cupped Sam's cheek with his palm.  "I 
think we should continue this in my room—that is, if you'd like to . 
. . " He still looked so unsure of himself Sam saw for the first time 
how it must have been for him, always pushing his feelings down, 
never letting anything out—why, curse his own dull brain, if he 
could have just guessed sooner he could have spared him much 
pain!  As it was, he could only do his best to show Frodo how 
much the offer meant.
He took Frodo's hand and kissed each fingertip, blushing at his 
audacity but smiling just the same.  "I'd very much like that, Mr. 
Frodo.  We'd also best be checkin' in on Mr. Brandybuck and Mr. 
Took—I'm half at fault there and I know Merry'll be wanting 
words with me."
A look of hurt crossed Frodo's face and Sam felt he could have tore 
his tongue out to stop spouting things so bluntly—here Mr. Frodo 
had loved him all this time and he had gone and played around 
with his young cousin.  He still didn't know quite how it had all 
happened—the lad just had a way of getting you to do things.  And 
he still couldn't say he regretted it.  Not for Pip's sake, anyway.  
"I hate to ask this, but between you and Pip . . . was it curiosity?  
Or something deeper?   I understand curiosity, Sam—I'm more 
experienced than you'd guess.  I know exactly how I want to make 
love to you."
Sam flushed a deep shade of red as the meaning of the words sank 
in—so Frodo had tried something similar before?  Did he want to 
know with whom?  He decided it didn't matter—the words "make 
love to you" were made of pure sunshine, warming him to his 
roots.   "It were just comfort, sir.  Both of us--he was sad, and I 
was sad too, thinkin' I'd never be able to have you.  I guess he 
chose me as a friend he could trust his secret to."  He wondered 
what Frodo meant "exactly how"--was there more than what Pip 
and him had done?  He wished he knew a bit more, but next to 
some fondling and kisses he hadn't done much with the lasses, and 
well Pip--that had been a first for both of them.
Frodo threw an arm around his shoulder, all fear and worry melting 
from his face and led him back up to the open door and the dark 
confines of the smial--Sam realized Pip and he had never lit any 
lamps in their haste.  They took a moment to do so, listening to the 
sounds of quiet talk from Pip's room--angry talk, some of it, but no 
shouting at least, then Frodo went to softly knock at the door and 
peek his head in, and Sam sidled up close to him, dreading the look 
on Merry's face but knowing he had to face up to his actions.
"Sorry to interrupt--I've got Sam here.  Are things . . . all right?" 
Frodo asked.  From around his shoulders Sam could see Pip was 
wearing a robe now, at least, but if anything he looked more upset 
than ever, and Merry looked ready to cry, seated on the edge of the 
bed furthest from Pip as if afraid to go closer.
It probably wasn't the right time to go in there, but Sam had to say 
at least a couple things, just to set himself straight.  "Mr. Merry, I 
can't undo what's been done--" he caught Pippin looking over at 
him, hurt and fear in his eyes "--and I wouldn't want to, anyhow--it 
was very special, but I do have to apologize for any hurt I've 
caused *you*--I don't know your feelings on this but I can plain 
well see you're upset.   Please don't be too angry with Pippin.  He 
was afraid and I was afraid and now I can see it's much better to 
face up to your fears--the results just might surprise you."  He 
couldn't help but smile, feeling Frodo's presence beside him, 
warming him like a fine brandy.  He waited to see if Merry would 
begin calling him out to defend his cousin's virtue or curse him as a 
thief, but Merry seemed beyond any anger--oh, now Sam saw it--
he blamed himself wholeheartedly--he was wallowing in self 
hatred.  Sam glanced at Frodo and saw he was studying Merry just 
as deeply, silently penetrating him with those intense blue eyes of 
his, and probably seeing the same thing.  Should they stay, or let 
the two cousins work things out for themselves?
"Thank you, Sam.  I--I don't hold you at fault for anything . . . I 
know Pip . . . I know how it can be with him."  Merry said in 
perhaps the most subdued voice Sam had ever heard come from 
him.  His heart ached in sympathy, but it was Frodo who said the 
words he wanted to utter.
"Do you want us here?  Perhaps the four of us--"
"No," Merry said immediately, though Pip looked ready to agree 
and invite them in.  Pip bit his lip instead, and a little shudder went 
through his slight frame, looking suspiciously like a sob.  At Sam's 
words "it was special", there had come a light of happiness in his 
eyes, but that was buried once more now.  He looked simply 
miserable.
"Good night, then.  We'll be in my room--*together*," Frodo said 
with emphasis, slipping an arm around Sam's waist, so there was 
no way they could mistake their new relationship.  Sam tried to 
impart the gratitude he felt to Pippin--he didn't know if he would 
ever have had the courage to act on his feelings, but thanks to the 
little Took's impulsiveness he now was experiencing the most 
wondrous feelings he could possibly have dreamt of.  He hoped 
fiercely that such a thing would come to Pippin too, somehow.  It 
seemed wrong to say anything now, in front of Merry, but he 
would definitely tell Pippin later just how grateful he was.
Merry and Pippin nodded, Pippin giving just the slightest of smiles 
at Sam, then Sam backed away so Frodo could close the door, 
wishing he felt more sure about how things would go for poor Pip.  
With a soft click, Frodo shut the door and regarded Sam with a 
mixed look of resignation and sorrow which was swiftly being 
replaced by excitement and coy mischief.  "Sam," he said in a low 
voice, probably too low for Merry and Pip to hear, "I have to 
confess I wasn't quite ready for you tonight.  Can you wait for me 
in my room?  I'll only be a moment--I have to fetch something . . . 
just in case . . . " He *grinned*--since Bilbo's departure, it had 
become so rare for him to grin so, like a boy just in his tweens.  
Sam wondered what he could be up to.
Unlike Pippin, he trusted Frodo completely.  "Sure, sir--I'll just 
turn down the bed for you  . . . " for us, he added silently to 
himself, thrilling at the notion.  What would his da think to learn of 
his doings this night, or Rosie?  Sam didn't care.  His Frodo loved 
him.  Nothing could happen now to shake his joy in that.
It was only a moment before Frodo returned.  After arranging the 
blankets and pillows to his liking, Sam sat on the edge of the bed, 
fidgeting.  If he thought his stomach had gone all aflutter when 
Frodo looked at him in the Green Dragon, it was positively doing 
flip flops now, like flapjacks on a hot griddle.  From Pip's room he 
could hear nothing--he hoped that was a good sign.
Sam jumped as Frodo opened the door, trying not to blush and 
failing dismally as the smoldering eyes of his dear beloved fell 
upon him.  Frodo was carrying a small jar of something--he too 
blushed as he placed it in the little drawer of his bedside table, 
keeping it out of sight.
Sam wondered if he should ask or not--this was all too new to 
him.  He decided he didn't care.  All that mattered right now was 
the fact Frodo was here, sitting down next him with a shy smile on 
his face, as if he too couldn't quite believe this was happening.  
Sam reached up a hand to take a single dark brown curl and tuck it 
behind his delicate pointed ear.  Frodo chuckled, sending a tremor 
through him.
"I don't think I've ever been so nervous," Frodo confessed, but his 
hands and lips were sure as they drew Sam into an embrace and a 
feathery light kiss which set spark to all the places that had been 
cooling off in the concern for Merry and Pippin.  Sam bit back a 
moan, his fingers clutching at Frodo's nape.  He reached his other 
hand to pull Frodo closer, delighting in the small form--slight, 
perhaps, but surprisingly strong.
Frodo drew back for just a second to regard him, his brows drawn 
together in a most puzzled and wondrous expression.  Sam could 
feel his disbelief--it almost looked like he though he didn't deserve 
him!  Well he'd put a stop to such notions.  Sam drew him in and 
took charge, molding his lips to Frodo's and gently running his 
fingers over his face to smooth out any lines of worry or fear.  "I've 
got you, Mr. Frodo; I still can't believe it's true, but here we are, 
sure as day--or night, the case being.  I've wanted you so long . . . " 
he couldn't believe he was saying such things, revealing his most 
inner wishes and still half afraid Frodo would change his mind and 
send him from his room at any moment, but as he returned to the 
kiss Frodo clutched at him and suddenly their tongues were 
entwining and it was as before--Sam was blending into the 
brilliance of his master's passion, reveling in power he never 
thought he'd wield.
Frodo pushed Sam onto his back, climbing on top of him to lay full 
length against him, pressing into him, his hands roaming 
everywhere to unlace ties, undo buttons and slide over bare skin--
so soft, his hands, not like Sam's at all.  Sam tried to reciprocate 
but Frodo wouldn't let him, and as he slowly ground his hips in, 
Sam was lost in the sensations of hardness rubbing hardness and of 
Frodo's soft little pants in his ear; he turned and captured his mouth 
for another deep kiss.
Before he quite knew it, he realized he was unclothed, and now 
Frodo was tearing at his own, fumbling to unbutton his waistcoat 
as they continued to kiss.  Sam brushed aside Frodo's little fingers 
and set to work on the gilded buttons, marveling at the feel of 
clothing against bare skin, of the way Frodo's half lidded eyes 
seemed to drink him in, of the soft flickering light of the bedside 
candle and the smell of candlewax and floor rushes, and some 
flower scent--lavender, that had to be.  Every sense was 
heightened; he removed the waistcoat and the braces and then was 
pulling off the shirt and sighing at the expanse of milky skin before 
him and two large dark nipples already stiffened into little peaks; 
he leaned down and kissed softly, sucking, and Frodo threw his 
head back and cried out, clutching at him. 
"Oh Sam!  Yes," he murmured, and Sam, emboldened, set to 
teasing both nipples with callused fingers, tongue, and just a bit of 
teeth, rejoicing in every shudder and arching movement that told 
him he was pleasing dear Mr. Frodo.  There was still the matter of 
his trousers, though; Sam wanted to see *all* of him and try out 
that little trick Pippin had taught him.  Nibbling on Frodo's neck to 
satisfy his hunger for the moment, he set to unlacing and soon had 
the trousers down in a little puddle at the foot of the bed.
Of course, that part of Frodo was as beautiful as the rest of him; 
long and slender and flushed; he placed a tentative hand around it 
and rubbed, grinning as Frodo sucked in a breath, his eyes rolling 
back.  His own cock was so hard it hurt; he rumbled in need as 
Frodo grasped him as well, pulling along the length and flicking a 
thumb across the wide head and the little slit there.  "Wait, sir," he 
gasped; this was going too fast--he was feeling too much-- "I want 
to . . . " he captured Frodo's hands and pinned it in his larger ones, 
moving down Frodo's body to nuzzle his abdomen with his cheek, 
trail his curls along the sharp edge of Frodo's hip, moving his lips 
down to where thighs met breathing in his scent--ah, the source of 
the lavender was here--he must bathe in sweet smelling oils, Sam 
thought, then he traced Frodo's shaft up from the base with his 
tongue, nearly coming himself at the shout of pleasure Frodo 
released.
He took Frodo into his mouth and Frodo moaned, "Oh Sam, how 
did you  . . . " the rest of whatever he was going to say was lost as 
he began shuddering, thrashing his head from side to side as Sam 
sucked and licked, trying to duplicate the incredible experience Pip 
had shown him--oh but this was so much better, so utterly 
incredible; every response Frodo made at his pleasuring seemed to 
be echoed in his own body; he felt he might come at any moment.  
He held on, though, as Frodo let go and began pumping hot salty 
fluid down his throat, crying out so loud Sam was sure Merry and 
Pip would now know *exactly* what they were doing.  He released 
Frodo only as he began to go soft and laid back beside him to 
watch the flush of pleasure and full relaxation wash over his face--
what a gift, to be able to give pleasure like that to one so great and 
deserving.  Sam felt aglow with happiness; his own ache hardly 
troubled him.
But shortly Frodo opened his eyes and regarded his state.  "Sam--
that was--the most incredible . . . I have never felt such pleasure.  
You are a wonder.  What would you like?  I know of something I 
would like you to experience, but only if you're ready and want to-
-oh, I'm so selfish.  I shouldn't even--"" he broke off, two spots of 
color on his high cheekbones making him look so dear, Sam 
wanted to pleasure him all over again.
"What sir:?  If you want it, I'm sure I'll enjoy it too."
"Well, what you do with a lass like Rosie . . . " Frodo said, 
stammering, sitting up to run the heel of his palms over Sam's 
chest and abdomen, caressing him with his eyes as well to where it 
became difficult for Sam to follow his words.
"Only kissed Rosie, nothing more," he confessed in a whisper.
Frodo blinked.  "And Pippin?"
Sam grinned proudly.  "Well we did what I did to you just now."
That coy mischief was back in Frodo's eyes.  "And that's all?"
Sam recalled his words, "making love," frowning.  Oh he wished 
he knew more about this!  "Seemed enough.  There's more?"
Frodo's grin was uncharacteristically wicked--he suddenly 
resembled Merry.  "You've never . . . . oh Sam, my precious Sam.  
You do know what's involved in making love to a lass?  What I'd 
like--if you would--is to have you inside me.  Here," he guided 
Sam's hand and pressed one finger against a place Sam would 
never have considered for lovemaking.
Sam's mouth fell open; heat seemed to flood him anew.  "Wha--
what do I do?"
Frodo was growing restless, moving against his hand and 
shuddering--he was hard once again. "You're sure--I don't want to 
push you.  I love you Sam--I haven't loved anyone like I love you."
"Oh yes, sir--just guide me.  I want to please you--that would give 
me the greatest pleasure."
Frodo leapt away from him and he jumped, wondering if he had 
said something wrong, but Frodo was only pulling out that little 
bottle from the drawer and pressing it into his hand, moving close 
to whisper in his ear, "To ease the passage--inside me, and over 
you.  I'll take care of you, if you will me."  He opened the stopper 
and poured the oil onto his hand--hah, sweet almond with a hint of 
lavender--the bathing oil!  Then he rubbed Sam and the sensation 
of that warm hand and the oil was almost a torture, it was so 
sweet.  He poured a little in his own hand, over his finger and 
gingerly touched the blunt tip of his finger at Frodo's entrance.  
He suddenly realized what he was doing.  "Will this hurt you?"  It 
seemed impossible that it wouldn't.  This was going to please his 
Frodo?
"Only at first--then it's wonderful, I can assure you.  There's a little 
spot inside--touch me there.  You'll see," Frodo laid on his back 
with his legs open, so relaxed and eager it was impossible to feel 
fear for him--he looked so *happy*.  He reached down a hand to 
coax Sam to press in, and Sam did so, watching his face closely for 
any signs that he should stop.  Deeper, deeper--Frodo had closed 
his eyes, a tiny wrinkle forming between his brows, but he seemed 
all right.  All the way in now, sliding around to coat with oil, and 
he found it--like a little seed--he stroked it and Frodo shivered and 
arched, nodding his head.  
"Another finger, Sam--you're big for a hobbit, you know," he said 
breathlessly, and Sam complied, getting the idea now--digging for 
planting, that was the way to think of it.  His fingers weren't 
exactly small either--he saw pain flash across Frodo's face, but as 
he had said it was only a moment, then  Frodo was pushing his 
hand out and pulling him close, his hands on Sam's cock to place it 
against him, ready and open.  
Sam raised himself above, tight with need.  "Please open your 
eyes, sir.  Tell me if I hurt you."
Frodo did so, eyes shining, filling him with so much love it was a 
wonder he didn't burst.  "Make love to me, Sam," he said in a 
strong, clear voice, commanding.  Sam nodded, and thrust forward, 
slowly, gently, though his body was now urging him to move 
faster, harder.  He fought to keep his own eyes open.  So incredibly 
tight, and yet yielding, slowly . . . another flash of pain.  He 
stopped, panting, himself at the point of pain to not be continuing.  
Frodo's eyes cleared again, urging him.  He sank himself in to the 
hilt and this time he had to stop or ruin the experience by ending 
too quickly.  He was inside.  Inside Frodo.  Never would he feel so 
complete again.
Frodo shuddered, moving against him, his hands coming to grip his 
hips.  "Sam," he pleaded, and Sam began moving, smoothly at 
first, gently rocking into him and exulting in the feel of his hot 
tight sheath, then faster, and harder as his body demanded, until 
there was no controlling the passion; he bucked and slammed as 
Frodo grabbed at his bottom and drove him on, his cries a 
testament to both their mounting climaxes--Sam was heaving like a 
bellows, sweat trickling down his back--oh it was too much; he 
would die with the pleasure.  Then he was coming, and against his 
belly he felt Frodo come as well pulling him in as deep as he could 
go, his slender legs locked around him.  They collapsed together, 
Sam's head resting on Frodo's breast as he came down slowly, 
gasping for air.  It was several moments before either of them 
spoke, quietly listening to the heart beats hammering in their chests 
and the sound of something interesting going on in the next room . 
. . 
"I think Merry's finally giving in to his wishes," Frodo said, 
cradling Sam's head to him.  
Sam grinned.  "I wish the best of luck to them."
Frodo chuckled, the sound so warm coming from an ear to his 
chest.  "Happy Birthday, Sam."
Sam couldn't stop grinning.  "Guess I'm truly of age now."
*****
TBC
*****