Summer Storm

Author’s Notes: #1 I don't own these characters. I'm just playing. #2 This is a little PWP for my good friend n onn on her birthday! Hope you enjoy hun! *Hugs*

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Nighttime in the Shire was always his favorite time of day. This night in particular, was unseasonably warm. Even the fireflies flew in lazy circles beneath the trees. The sickeningly sweet smell of honeysuckle and rose filled the air and drifted slowly up the hill, mixing pleasantly with the musky smell of pipe smoke. Shire evenings were calm, and peaceful. Everyone winding down from their day, simply relaxing and enjoying themselves, whether with friends or alone.

Frodo had always preferred to be alone, however, simply relaxing under the shade of a tree and reading whatever book he had borrowed from his uncle’s library. This eve was no different, for there he sat, upon the hill at Bag End, his back leaning comfortably against the large tree. This was one of his favorite places, for he could look out on all of Hobbiton and daydream of days to come.

The book in his lap was really more for show than anything else, as he hadn’t turned a single page in more than an hour. The sun had set, and the dew began to settle heavily upon everything. No longer able to see the words on the page, Frodo shut the book and set it aside. How many nights had he replayed this same routine? Climbing up the hill and relaxing after supper.

As always, his thoughts drifted to that of his golden haired gardener. A soft smile playing at his lips at the thought of sunlight gleaming off golden skin, and enriching the sandy hair, of dancing muscles grown strong from years of hard work. For years, Frodo had admired Samwise Gamgee; yet never let his feelings be known. He had simply watched silently, stealing glances when he thought no one was looking. When had he begun to love his best friend? He couldn’t remember the exact day, or time, it had just always been there. Feelings deeper than they should be. Frodo heaved a deep sigh. Such thoughts would get him nowhere, for Sam’s heart lay with Rosie Cotton. Everyone knew.

His attention was drawn to Number Three Bagshot Row. The door to the smial opened, and Frodo’s breath nearly caught. Sam left the small door, closing it quietly and looking around carefully. He was dressed in simple trousers, and a shirt. Having obviously left his weskit inside. His hair was softly tousled, as though he had been roughhousing with his brothers inside.

Frodo couldn’t help but wonder where Sam was headed, as he moved quickly through the dim twilight and out the garden gate. Leaving his book behind, Frodo rose and descended the hill in order to follow his gardener love.

Sam headed through town, moving quickly, yet obviously trying not to be seen. Frodo followed close behind, sticking to the shadows, and using all his hobbit skills of being silent. His heart began to race, beating hard and fast within his chest. Had the small village been any quieter, Frodo was sure his presence would be given away by the thunderous sound. His palms becoming sweaty, and his breath quickening. The excitement of the chase already having an effect on him.

They left the comfort of Hobbiton, taking one of the small paths heading through the woods. Everything was quiet and still, the dark seeming to close in comfortingly around them. Bathing them in a feel of floating nothingness. Frodo almost lost sight of Sam as he moved through the darkness, until a sudden flash of lightening lit everything up brightly.

Sam jumped and stopped his progress through the trees, the sudden flash having startled him from his thoughts. He stood in the small clearing, beneath the canopy of the large trees. Frodo could see that Sam’s own breath had been quickened, most likely from being startled than anything else.

Sam’s hazel eyes were directed skyward, as the rain began. Slow at first, then harder, and harder still. The downpour quickly soaking through his simple white cotton shirt, leaving it nearly transparent and clinging to his every curve, Sam opened his arms wide, his face upturned into the rain. He spun in a slow circle, a smile upon his face, simply enjoying the sudden summer storm.

Frodo bit his lower lip and leaned heavily against the nearest tree. His head coming to rest against the rain-slick bark, as his breath caught within his throat. Frodo closed his eyes. He lo to to enter the clearing, to simply wrap his arms around the strong body of his gardener love. To feel the slide of strong muscles beneath his hands, the smooth hairless skin of Sam’s chest, his soft lips…

The lightening flashed once more, lighting the entire wood in silver gilt for a moment. Frodo moved though the brush, careful not to make any noise. The figure of Sam, still standing with arms outstretched and face turned skyward. The rain fell heavily upon them, filling the wood with the soft shimmering sound of all the droplets hitting upon leaves. Mist rolling slowly in, as the rain fell through the too warm summer night.

Frodo approached Sam from behind, wrapping his arms around the broad strong chest. Leaning close, he breathed slowly up the long column of Sam’s neck, causing soft shivers to run through the gardener’s body. Sam’s eyes fluttered shut, his breathing quickening once more as he leaned back gently against Frodo.

Slender, scholarly hands slid over the wet cotton of Sam’s shirt, memorizing every curve, every line. Toying with the buttons of the shirt a moment, before undoing them and sliding the shirt from broad shoulders. Frodo whispered husky endearments into the pointed ear, his hands journeying southwards across the strong plains of Sam’s stomach.

Sam turned in his arms, wrapping his own strong arms around Frodo’s slender frame, embracing him in a lover’s warmth. Hazel eyes still closed, Sam leaned forwards, pressing his soft, full lips to Frodo’s. All else seemed to disappear. There was nothing left in the entire world for Frodo, but the forest rain, and Sam’s warm body pressed against his.

They sank to the soft, moss covered forest floor. Legs entangling, arms embracing. Each touch sending new sensations spreading through each other. Frodo lay Sam back against the forest floor, spreading out overtop of the slightly larger hobbit. His tongue running slowly along Sam’s lower lip, enjoying the soft shiver that ran through the body beneath him. His hands slid slowly down the smooth skin of Sam’s sides, until they encountered the waistband of his trousers.

With a slow smile, Frodo slid down Sam’s body, leaving a trail of kisses down Sam’s chest and stomach, until he finally came to the closures of Sam’s trousers. Softly tracing his tongue along the sensitive skin beneath Sam’s navel, Frodo quickly undid the offending garments, freeing his lover’s arousal from its confinement.

A soft moan escaped Sam’s lips as Frodo bent down, sliding his tongue slowly up the underside of the hardened flesh. His hands sliding over the contracting stomach muscles, and softly teasing hardened nipples. Strong hands rose slowly, tangling in dark curls.

Sam’s chest rose and fell with heavy breaths; Frodo could only imagine the sensations flooding through the younger hobbit as he took the hardened, silky smooth flesh of his arousal into his mouth. Sucking, teasing, stroking. Sam’s breath caught as he bit his lip to keep from crying out. Goosebumps spread across Sam’s skin, his hips beginning to move of their own accord. Frodo lay his hands upon the younger hobbit’s hips in effort to still their movement as he slid the stiff length into his mouth slowly and back out again.

The rain poured down around them, drenching everything in sight. Sam writhed wantonly upon the ground, and Frodo couldn’t help but smile. He had done that. He had caused his faithful gardener, his beloved, to lose all control.

Finally sitting back, Frodo began disrobing himself. His own trousers feeling painfully tight, until he was finally completely naked, and sitting atop Sam’s legs. Leaning forward, Frodo pressed his lips once more to Sam’s, taking both their arousals in his slender hand and stroking slowly. His own blue eyes fluttering shut at the pleasured feelings spreading slowly throughout his own body.

A long time, they stayed like that. Fevered kisses, and hurried strokes. Each trying to find the pleasure the other offered. Hands slid over rain-slick skin, mixing raindrops with sweat, causing skin to gleam siy iny in the flashes of lightening still going on overhead.

At last, Frodo could take no more. Sliding up Sam’s body some, he grasped Sam’s arousal and slowly leaned back against it, impaling himself upon it. The pleasure-pain spreading through his abdomen like Gandalf’s fireworks, exploding into tiny sparks that spread through his entire being. His hips taking up the age-old rhythm sure to bring them both to their final climax.

Sam’s hips bucked of their own accord, his body trembling before finally tensing as he spilled himself inside of Frodo. The older hobbit rode the waves of pleasure securely to his own completion, before collapsing down upon Sam’s strong chest, panting hard from the exertion.

Frodo opened his eyes, blinking to clear the impassioned fog that had descended over him. His eyes searching the clearing before him, only to find that Sam had left. Frodo collapsed back against the tree, sliding his back down against the trunk until he sat upon the ground with a bump. Once again, he had missed his chance. Would Samwise never know of the feelings he held for him?

A final crack of thunder sounded overhead, and Frodo rose from his seat. His trousers painfully tight, and his bowed, hiding his misery behind drenched dark curls; Frodo began making his way back to Hobbiton, and to Bag End. Perhaps one day he would be able to share his feelings with Sam. Perhaps.