The Stairwell

Title: The Stairwell 1/1
Author: Claudia
Pairing: Frodo/Aragorn
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Strider and pre-LOTR Frodo meet in Bree--under different circumstances
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and make no money from them.
Story Notes: Movieverse Bree


The Stairwell


"What will it be, halfling?" The tavern server knelt down to Frodo's level. Frodo's legs dangled from the chair, and the table came up to his chest.

"I would like an ale, please."

The server smiled as if amused. He may not have met many hobbits. Frodo had thought that hobbits lived near Bree, but since leaving the Shire, he had seen no other hobbits.

Frodo sipped his ale and watched men as they entered the tavern. None appealed to him so far.

Frodo had reached his thirty-fifth birthday, and he had been dismayed that he had never had a sexual experience. Lotho had taunted him mercilessly about it. Then one day Lotho had let him into a little secret.

"The ultimate experience, my naive friend," Lotho had said in a low, sneering voice. "Is with a man--and I mean one of the Big Folk."

"How do you know?" Frodo had asked, shocked by Lotho's confession. "Have you--"

"No, not me. But I'verd. rd. They're all dying to have a halfling, as they call us. They know we're...small...in just the right place. And with your pretty looks, you'd have them fawning all over you."

Frodo had feigned disgust, but the idea had grown in him. The idea of having huge, masculine hands stroking his body made him breathless with longing. So Frodo had come to Bree with the sole purpose of finding a man.

Frodo spotted him sitting in the back corner. He was scruffy, but there was a gleam of hard command in his gray eyes. Frodo met his eyes. He refused to look away, even when the man's gaze hardened to a nearly hostile glare.

Still maintaining eye contact, Frodo walked over to him.

"Hello," Frodo said. He had worn his white shirt only half buttoned. He had not worn his weskit at all. His jacket he had left at his table.

The man stared at him. He did not smile. Frodo's stomach curdled a little. Perhaps this man was truly dangerous. Perhaps he had made a mistake in approaching him. He knew there were men in Bree who would just as soon cut a hobbit's throat as talk to them.

"Good evening," The man finally answered. His voice was raw and dangerous. Frodo lifted his chin, determined not to back out.

"May I join you?" he asked. The man gave him a puzzled look.

"You may, but I may not be good company."

"Maybe not," Frodo said with a playful lilt to his voice. "But maybe I am. What is your name, stranger?"

The man turned his hard gray eyes on him. "You can know me as Strider."

"May I buy you a drink, Strider?"

The first hint of a smile crossed the man's face. "You may buy me an ale. You're from the Shire."

Frodo smiled. "Yes."

Strider waved the serving man over and ordered their drinks. Frodo was not sure how to proceed. The man was now looking him over in overt curiosity.

"Can I give you one piece of advice, Mr...."

"Underhill," Frodo said.

"Underhill. Mr. Underhill, this isn't the Shire. The way you are dressed could get you into trouble here among men."

"Could it?" Frodo asked, his heart thudding joyfully. "In what way?"

Strider looked at him as if he couldn't believe the hobbit could possibly be so naive. Frodo watched his face change. He had no doubt reminded himself that these Shire hobbits were very sheltered indeed. He took out his pipe and lit it. Soon the pungent smell of pipeweed filled their corner.

"Never mind," Strider said. He puffed on his pipe. The server brought them their drinks.

Frodo moved closer to Strider until their legs brushed against each other. He looked up at Strider under his long eyelashes. "I may want to get into trouble tonight."

Strider chuckled. "I'm sure you do not know of what you speak."

Frodo allowed his hand to fall on Strider's thigh. He felt the man tense.

Suddenly an iron hand gripped his upper arm and a hot breath in his ear whispered, "So that's the game you want to play, halfling." His free hand found the front of Frodo's breeches and gave it a harsh squeeze. Frodo gasped and looked up at Strider, his cheeks rosy with wanting. He was fully aroused already.

Frodo let his own hand drift into Strider's tight breeches in the back. His hand brushed over the man's buttocks. Strider tensed and let in a hiss of breath as Frodo's finger traced his cleft. He pulled away.

"In the stairwell," Strider whispered. "In one minute."

In a flash, Strider had gotten up and was headed down a dark corridor. Frodo waited a few seconds and then followed. He crept into the dark stairwell. His heart thudded. This was exactly what Lotho had predicted. The men of Bree were truly desperate to have the taste of a small, tight halfling.

A strong arm grabbed him and pushed him against the wall. In an instant, Frodo's breeches were down around his knees. Strider was on his knees and his arm, rock-hard, curled around his back. He pushed his lips fiercely into Frodo's. Frodo's heart continued to thud. He was fully aroused. He wondered what would happen if anyone chose to walk up or down the stairs at that moment. Strider didn't seem to care.

Strider pushed down his own breeches with his free hand, while jamming his tongue into Frodo's mouth and exploring with hungry intensity. Then he pulled out and looked at Frodo directly in the eyes.

"Halfling, are you certain this is what you want?"

"Yes," Frodo gasped. He looked into the hard gray eyes with nervousness. "Only this is my first time--"

"A little late for coyness, don't you think?" Strider said with a gritty laugh. "Do you wish me to stop? Speak now because if I go any farther, it will be difficult for me to stop."

Frodo shook his head. "No, no. Please don't stop."

Strider pushed Frodo down so that he was on his bottom, leaning against the wall. Strider straddled him. He rubbed the sticky drops that had dripped out of his swollen shaft. He positioned his member over Frodo's small hole.

"If this is your first time," Strider said. "This is bound to hurt a bit."

His low voice almost sent Frodo over the edge. His member throbbed so much that he thought it might explode, especially as Strider's huge member tapped against his cleft.

Strider slid Frodo's half buttoned shirt off of his shoulders and squeezed Frodo's bare shoulders. He shoved his member into Frodo. Frodo writhed against the wall, hissing, tears springing to his eyes. It felt as though thousands of wasps were stinging him down there. This was wrong. There was nothing pleasurable about this. He gasped and squirmed, but Strider held him firmly as he eased the rest of his enormous shaft into Frodo's body.

The pain disappeared--turned into unbelievable ecstasy. Frodo gasped and pulled Strider closer. Strider looked at his dreamy face with a smile. "Here I go, halfling."

"Quickly!"

Strider thrust faster and faster, clutching Frodo's waist. He grunted with each thrust. Suddenly he arched his back with a final grunt, wrapping both of his arms around Frodo and squeezing until Frodo could barely breathe. Then Strider went limp, leaning his head against Frodo's shoulder, still holding him around the waist.

Looking up, still gasping for breath, Strider said, "Now it is your turn, little one."

"My turn?"

"Stand up." He helped Frodo to his feet. Strider remained on his knees.

He took Frodo's fully aroused member in his mouth. Frodo clutched the wall, unable to believe that such sweet ecstasy existed. His bottom still throbbed pleasantly. Strider had nearly his entire member in his mouth. He sucked with expert pacing, starting slow and steady and listening for the cue of Frodo's gasps to monitor how fast he should suck.

Finally an unbelievable rush of pleasure surged through his member. Strider swallowed as Frodo came so hard that it hurt his abdomen. Strider released his member from his mouth. Frodo pulled his breeches up and collapsed on his bottom, trying to catch his breath.

Strider stood. He had already put on his breeches. "So long, halfling." He gave Frodo a final caress on his cheek. "Perhaps there will be another time."

"Thank you," Frodo said.

"It was my pleasure," Strider said with a conspirator's wink. Then he was gone.

Frodo sat in the dark stairwell, still smelling the coppery scent of their quick and violent lovemaking. His backside ached, but his body throbbed with remaining pleasure.

He would be back to Bree. In fact, he might make it a regular experience. If not with Strider, then with another man just as willing--any man who wanted to get to know an innocent halfling from the Shire.

End