How Dark the Night (Complete Now)

Title: How Dark the Night IV: Touch
Author: Elf Maiden
Rating: R
Summary: Sam is full of surprises

Touch

Frodo could do nothing but stare at his friend and gardener. He had heard rumours of some of
the gentlefolk using the servants for bedroom favours, but he had not thought that those
rumours had reached Sam’s ears too. And to think that Sam would have been willing to do
that, as he had been willing to do everything else for his master. It was almost more than
Frodo could bear.

“Sam, I would not ask you to - to please me like that. It is not part of your duties and it
never will be.”

“Who said anything about duty?” asked Sam, lightly tracing his finger along the line of
Frodo’s jaw. “I may be young, but I’m not that young. I know you look at me. I know the
way you look at me and it’s not the way friends look at each other, if you take my
meaning.”

Frodo felt his blood turn to ice in his veins, could almost feel ice crystals forming
flowing into his heart, crushing it. He thought he had hidden his feelings well, for he
could not reconcile them with himself. Sam had shown no interest in being with males and
Frodo did not want to embarrass or shame his friend.

“Oh, Sam,” he looked at the ground, unable to bear the hurt in Sam’s eyes any longer. “I’m
so sorry. It was wrong of me to think of you like that. I-”

“No, Mr. Frodo.” Sam stilled Frodo’s words with a finger on his lips. “What was wrong was
you feeling like that about me and then seeking comfort elsewhere. That’s what was wrong.”

“So what are we going to do about it?” Frodo shivered as Sam’s fingers rubbed against his
bottom lip.

In answer, Sam leant forward, his face a mask of purpose. Frodo would have backed away even
further if he hadn’t been hindered by the tree. Sam grabbed Frodo by the waist, who yelped
in surprise, before Sam’s mouth pressed down on his in a crushing kiss. Frodo’s legs ceased
to resemble blood and bone, instead they seemed to have turned to something the consistency
of jam, which would no longer support him. His knees buckled and he would have fallen if not
for the joint support of Sam’s strong arms and the tree behind them.

“Sam, what are you doing?” mumbled Frodo once Sam had released his claim on Frodo’s mouth.
His mouth felt swollen from the force of Sam’s kisses. He found himself wanting more of them.
Wanting even more from Sam. He stifled a groan.

“I was kissing you, why what did it feel like?” Sam was smiling at him. Frodo licked his
lips and watched in rapt fascination as Sam echoed the gesture. Who knew Sam could be so
forceful? That he tasted of grass and sunshine and something spicier that was uniquely Sam?

“It felt like you were kissing me,” agreed Frodo. “But why were you kissing me?”

“Wasn’t it good, then?” asked Sam, his brow furrowing. He still hadn’t relinquished his hold
on Frodo’s waist. Frodo found he didn’t mind at all. “I - I’ve never done it before. Maybe I
need more practice.” Sam leaned forward, his eyes closed, but instinctively knowing the way
to Frodo’s mouth.

“More practice,” murmured Frodo as his own eyes closed. Sam’s kiss was more tentative this
time, barely a brush of lips and Frodo sighed into Sam’s mouth. Oh, how could he have survived
this long without knowing the taste of Sam’s lips? Frodo moved his arms to Sam’s head,
relishing the softness of Sam’s hair as he buried his hands in it.

Sam pulled away, breathing hard. Frodo still had hold of Sam‘s head, and pulled his friend
down towards his mouth once more, unwilling to forgo Sam’s kisses just yet.

“Oh, Mr. Frodo,” Sam whispered, close to Frodo’s ear, his voice husky with want. Frodo
hardened instantly, arching his hips towards Sam even as he brought Sam‘s head closer to
his. He had heard Sam call him “Mr. Frodo” for more years than he cared to remember, but oh,
the way Sam said it just then. It was a wonder Frodo could still stand upright.

As they kissed again, Sam moved his hands from Frodo’s waist, making a short journey to his
rear and pulled Frodo hard against him. Frodo could feel Sam’s erection against his stomach,
as he was sure Sam could feel his. He moaned, low in his throat, his hands clinging to Sam’s
neck. It was nothing like being with Legolas. Legolas had been the shadow of a candle, Sam
was the flame itself, scorching Frodo’s skin wherever he touched it.

Sam’s lips left his for a moment and Frodo gasped in frustration, but it turned to a moan of
pure pleasure when he felt Sam’s lips against the hollow of his throat. Kissing softly at
first, but then sucking. Hard. Frodo bucked up against Sam feeling faint. Could you die from
too much pleasure? “Oh, Sam,” he groaned as Sam’s lips kept sucking on his pulse point,
almost as if Sam wanted to suck his heart right out through his skin. Frodo guessed there
would be a bruise there tomorrow, Sam was sucking so hard, but he was so aroused that it
didn’t feel painful at all, just unusual.

Sam looked up at him, licking his lips and grinning like a madman. “You don’t know how long
I’ve wanted to taste you, me dear.” Even as he spoke, Sam took the lead again and began to
unbutton Frodo’s shirt. Frodo tried to return the favour, but his hands were shaking so much
that it was an impossible task. Just the thought of seeing Sam next to him without his shirt
was almost enough to undo him. He stilled his hands and let Sam do what he would.

“Do you ever dream of me, Mr. Frodo?” asked Sam as he finished with the first button, then
planting a kiss on the bare skin he had just revealed.

“D - d - dream?” rational thought was taking flight as quickly as Sam made short work of
Frodo’s buttons. Each time a button was popped out of its hole, Sam bent to kiss Frodo’s
chest. Frodo was surprised not to find burn marks on his skin when he looked. He felt so
hot and flustered and if something did not happen soon he was going to explode.

Sam paused on the last button, undoing it ever so slowly to Frodo’s mind. Frodo looked at
Sam again, saw the grin and had to stifle one of his own. Samwise Gamgee, shy master gardener
of Bag End, was teasing him. And it was working. “Sam, if you don’t touch me right now - I -
I - I’ll - ah!!” Frodo arched into Sam’s hand, as Sam touched him right where he needed to
be touched. He bit his lip to stop himself from crying out.

“Do you like that, Mr. Frodo?” asked Sam, gently rubbing the length of Frodo through his
trousers. “I think you may like something else better.”

Frodo wasn’t sure that anything else could feel better. What could be better than standing
here being touched by his Sam? Nothing could be better than that. But when Sam deftly undid
the buttons of Frodo’s breeches, reached in and pushed aside his underlinens, Frodo had to
re-evaluate that thought. Sam’s hands on his bare skin was a lot better.

“I dream about you, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said softly, stroking along Frodo’s length as if they
had all the time in the world. His touches were barely there, making Frodo writhe in an
agony of frustration.

“You do?” gasped Frodo, amazed that he could even answer the question with what Sam’s
wonderful fingers were doing to his body.

“Aye, I do. I dream of you all the time. After those dreams, I wake up so hard that I just
have to touch myself, even though my Gaffer might come in at any moment. I think of you and
about the dreams. I think of you when I come, Frodo. Only you.”

“What happens in your dreams, Sam?” asked Frodo, a little breathless now.

Sam’s hands stopped and he gazed deep into Frodo’s eyes. “I don’t know if I have the words
for it, Mr. Frodo. Best if I show you, I reckon.” He was smiling again and Frodo felt his
heart pound even louder in his ears. What was he letting himself in for?

“All right, Sam,” he sighed. “Show me.”

TBC