Joyeux anniversaire!
Happy birthday to you, dear frodosweetstuff! I hope you're having a wonderful day and that pesky RL is allowing you to enjoy hobbits, kings, sorcerers and consulting detectives for a little while.:)
Here's a little something I wrote last year and never got around to posting. Your birthday gave me the incentive to unearth it and make it presentable. I hope you'll like it!:)
Title: In the barn
Fandom: LotR (AU)
Pairing: Frodo/Sam (of course!)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Frodo and Sam meet for the first time at The Golden Cock, one of the few "gay" inns in the Shire. Smut ensues.
A/N: this is the second part of a fic I've started to write eons ago; if you are interested, you can find the first part here: http://bagma.livejournal.com/82530.html
The barn was dark inside, the only light coming from a few lanterns hanging here and there. It was relatively early, and at first Frodo thought the place was still unoccupied; then he heard rustling sounds and soft panting coming intermittently from a stall situated somewhere on the left of the door.
"I think we'd better take a stall on the right", Frodo murmured in Sam's ear. "Unless you're feeling in the mood for a foursome, of course," he added after a moment's reflection, keeping his voice carefully expressionless.
"The more the merrier, as they say?... I have nothing against a crowd, once in a while. But tonight I think I'd be merrier with a single partner. You look like someone who can keep a body busy all by yourself, and no mistake."
Frodo could hear the smile in Sam's voice, and he decided to take the comment as a compliment. He had no intention of sharing a gorgeous find such as Sam with another playmate anyway if he could prevent it, and the answer was exactly what he'd wanted to hear.
So he led Sam to the right, where the stalls were smaller and more appropriate for couples. He chose the one that was the farthest from the door, a little surprised at his sudden and uncharacteristic need for intimacy. Then he glanced at Sam, noticing that his hair was almost the same golden colour as the hay and the tantalizing way he was biting his full lower lip, and thought his wish to keep such a treasure hidden, at least for a little while, was perfectly understandable. And as they neared the stall, Frodo found himself, for the first time, annoyed that it wasn't equipped with a door or at least some kind of curtain. He knew that some customers, while they waited for a place to become available, liked to take a leisurely stroll through the barn and watch the action. That behaviour had never bothered Frodo before; to tell the truth, he used to find the feel of being seen in such circumstances quite exciting. He still did. His unexpected reluctance was not caused by a sudden bout of modesty, but by a completely selfish desire to keep Sam for himself as long as possible.
Fortunately, Sam didn't seem to suffer from such a fit of prudery. As soon as they entered the stall, he pinned Frodo to the partition and started kissing him hungrily. Sam's muscular body pressed Frodo's against the rough wood, Sam's warm tongue invaded Frodo's more than willing mouth, and Frodo, delighted, forgot all about privacy and gave himself up to the amorous assault.
Sam might have been younger than him, Frodo thought, although it was hard to tell in the dim light, but he wasn't inexperienced. He was a very good kisser, assertive without being overwhelming, and didn't feel the need to bathe half the face of his playmate in saliva, something Frodo was grateful for. He hated sloppy kisses, and slopiness in general.
There was nothing sloppy about the way Sam was handling their encounter. Despite his being most likely younger, he seemed accustomed to taking charge, and Frodo was happy to let him. That didn't happen as often as he would have liked; his name and reputation preceded him, and most of his playmates were too impressed by the idea of having sex with a Baggins to show initiative.
But Sam didn't know him yet, and it was becoming obvious that he intended to enjoy freely everything Frodo had to offer. Without breaking the kiss, he started a thorough exploration of Frodo's body, stroking his chest, lightly pinching Frodo's nipples through the fabric of his shirt, caressing his belly, his buttocks, and -finally!- his crotch. Frodo, who had been hard ever since they bumped into each other at the inn, moaned happily and pressed his neglected erection against Sam's hand. There was a sudden acceleration in Sam's breathing, and Frodo felt the luscious lips pressed against his mouth curve into a smile.
"My, my, Frodo, it seems you aren't slim everywhere!" Early in his love life, Frodo had discovered that he was indeed gifted in the size department, but he had also found out quickly that the only way to answer any compliment paid to this part of his anatomy was to praise his partner in kind, even if, in order to do so, he sometimes needed to bend the truth.
As he slid his fingers inside Sam's breeches, he realised that this time he wouldn't have to resort to poetic licence. Sam was everything a lover could ask for; his cock was big, but not so big that handling it would bring to mind heavy machinery instead of sex. They spent a few moments strocking each other and kissing, more and more feverishly by the minute, but they both wanted more than a quick handjob. Sam's free hand slid inside the back of Frodo's breeches, cupped a buttock, then his fingers started teasing along Frodo's crack, caressing but never stopping, and driving Frodo crazy.
"There's oil on the shelf," Frodo panted when he couldn't stand the teasing any longer. He managed to simultaneously writhe, arch his back and grope about for the vial without completely breaking the kiss. He quickly found the small bottle and handed it to Sam.
"I need a little preparation, but don't dawdle, please, or I'll be finished before we start."
Sam didn't dawdle; Frodo barely had the time to remove his breeches and turn round to face the partition before feeling Sam's oiled fingers press against his hole. Sighing in satisfaction, Frodo widened his stance and offered himself with abandon. Despite the haze of arousal, Frodo became aware he trusted Sam instinctively, and it was not something he was used to feel with his tricks. He had never been attacked or beaten, but the risk was always present and Frodo never let go of a healthy modicum of watchfullness.
Right now, it didn't feel like he would need his wits about him; that was a good thing, because when Sam replaced his fingers with his cock and started to push slowly but powerfully into him, Frodo stopped thinking altogether. Obviously, there wasn't enough space in him to contain the pleasure he got from the hard shaft filling him to perfection and a single coherent thought. He heard himself whimper, and Sam grunt in his ear.
"Is... Is this alright? Can I go on?"
Frodo nodded frantically, and Sam, grasping Frodo's hips, started to move. He took his time, alternating short jabs and long strokes, clearly trying to discover which move pleasured his partner the most.
"Wrap your arms around me," Frodo panted, and Sam complied quickly, bending over Frodo's back and embracing him so strongly that Frodo was barely able to breathe and had to brace himself against the partition with all his might. He didn't mind; he felt surrounded by Sam's strenght, his warm skin, his scent of soap, clean sweat and arousal; his hairy thights and belly rubbed delightfully against Frodo's buttocks, and in that position his cock head hit Frodo's prostate with every thrust.
It was... Well, perfection. So, of course, it had to end. Their coupling was so intense anyway that it couldn't last. Frodo was close, so close that he briefly wondered if he'd be able to come without touching himself. Then he felt Sam's oiled hand wrap around his cock, Sam's big prick pulse deep inside him, he heard him moan Frodo's name, and that was it. Ecstasy ripped through him, making him cry out several times in helpless pleasure, stealing his breath and his strenght. Legs shaking, he sagged back against Sam, who appeared to be in the same state and quite unable to support Frodo's weight; they both fell inelegantly on the floor, arms and legs tangled, panting and laughing. Sam's cock slid out Frodo's body, making him gasp, then sigh in regret.
"I... I hope I'll have it back there soon," Frodo said, a little shyly, not wanting to sound too eager. Sam, who obviously didn't know that being enthusiastic about a second meeting was not the thing done at the Golden Cock, wound his arms tightly around Frodo's shoulders and kissed the nape of his neck.
"I'll do everything to make it happen, my dear," he breathed in Frodo's ear. "Actually, I'd be happy to oblige tonight, but it's late and I'll start a new job tomorrow morning, so right now I need my sleep more than a second round, I'm afraid. But I'll be here tomorrow night, I promise. I never thought I'd find such a treasure near Hobbiton!" He nipped playfully at Frodo's lobe, making him giggle helplessly and wriggle against Sam's broad chest.
"I'll be here, too. I live in Hobbiton, and I spend most evenings at the inn... Not always in the barn, of course!", Frodo hastened to add, not wanting to be taken for an undiscriminating slut.
"I can't say I had enough time to enjoy the conversation and the company at the inn, since you whisked me away as soon as I stepped accross the threshold," Sam answered, grinning. "Don't worry, I was a willing victim, and you can kidnapp me as often as you want. I'll be working and living in Hobbiton for some time, too, so we won't have too much difficulties in kidnapping each other, I reckon."
*lots of love and hugs*
Here's a little something I wrote last year and never got around to posting. Your birthday gave me the incentive to unearth it and make it presentable. I hope you'll like it!:)
Title: In the barn
Fandom: LotR (AU)
Pairing: Frodo/Sam (of course!)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Frodo and Sam meet for the first time at The Golden Cock, one of the few "gay" inns in the Shire. Smut ensues.
A/N: this is the second part of a fic I've started to write eons ago; if you are interested, you can find the first part here: http://bagma.livejournal.com/82530.html
The barn was dark inside, the only light coming from a few lanterns hanging here and there. It was relatively early, and at first Frodo thought the place was still unoccupied; then he heard rustling sounds and soft panting coming intermittently from a stall situated somewhere on the left of the door.
"I think we'd better take a stall on the right", Frodo murmured in Sam's ear. "Unless you're feeling in the mood for a foursome, of course," he added after a moment's reflection, keeping his voice carefully expressionless.
"The more the merrier, as they say?... I have nothing against a crowd, once in a while. But tonight I think I'd be merrier with a single partner. You look like someone who can keep a body busy all by yourself, and no mistake."
Frodo could hear the smile in Sam's voice, and he decided to take the comment as a compliment. He had no intention of sharing a gorgeous find such as Sam with another playmate anyway if he could prevent it, and the answer was exactly what he'd wanted to hear.
So he led Sam to the right, where the stalls were smaller and more appropriate for couples. He chose the one that was the farthest from the door, a little surprised at his sudden and uncharacteristic need for intimacy. Then he glanced at Sam, noticing that his hair was almost the same golden colour as the hay and the tantalizing way he was biting his full lower lip, and thought his wish to keep such a treasure hidden, at least for a little while, was perfectly understandable. And as they neared the stall, Frodo found himself, for the first time, annoyed that it wasn't equipped with a door or at least some kind of curtain. He knew that some customers, while they waited for a place to become available, liked to take a leisurely stroll through the barn and watch the action. That behaviour had never bothered Frodo before; to tell the truth, he used to find the feel of being seen in such circumstances quite exciting. He still did. His unexpected reluctance was not caused by a sudden bout of modesty, but by a completely selfish desire to keep Sam for himself as long as possible.
Fortunately, Sam didn't seem to suffer from such a fit of prudery. As soon as they entered the stall, he pinned Frodo to the partition and started kissing him hungrily. Sam's muscular body pressed Frodo's against the rough wood, Sam's warm tongue invaded Frodo's more than willing mouth, and Frodo, delighted, forgot all about privacy and gave himself up to the amorous assault.
Sam might have been younger than him, Frodo thought, although it was hard to tell in the dim light, but he wasn't inexperienced. He was a very good kisser, assertive without being overwhelming, and didn't feel the need to bathe half the face of his playmate in saliva, something Frodo was grateful for. He hated sloppy kisses, and slopiness in general.
There was nothing sloppy about the way Sam was handling their encounter. Despite his being most likely younger, he seemed accustomed to taking charge, and Frodo was happy to let him. That didn't happen as often as he would have liked; his name and reputation preceded him, and most of his playmates were too impressed by the idea of having sex with a Baggins to show initiative.
But Sam didn't know him yet, and it was becoming obvious that he intended to enjoy freely everything Frodo had to offer. Without breaking the kiss, he started a thorough exploration of Frodo's body, stroking his chest, lightly pinching Frodo's nipples through the fabric of his shirt, caressing his belly, his buttocks, and -finally!- his crotch. Frodo, who had been hard ever since they bumped into each other at the inn, moaned happily and pressed his neglected erection against Sam's hand. There was a sudden acceleration in Sam's breathing, and Frodo felt the luscious lips pressed against his mouth curve into a smile.
"My, my, Frodo, it seems you aren't slim everywhere!" Early in his love life, Frodo had discovered that he was indeed gifted in the size department, but he had also found out quickly that the only way to answer any compliment paid to this part of his anatomy was to praise his partner in kind, even if, in order to do so, he sometimes needed to bend the truth.
As he slid his fingers inside Sam's breeches, he realised that this time he wouldn't have to resort to poetic licence. Sam was everything a lover could ask for; his cock was big, but not so big that handling it would bring to mind heavy machinery instead of sex. They spent a few moments strocking each other and kissing, more and more feverishly by the minute, but they both wanted more than a quick handjob. Sam's free hand slid inside the back of Frodo's breeches, cupped a buttock, then his fingers started teasing along Frodo's crack, caressing but never stopping, and driving Frodo crazy.
"There's oil on the shelf," Frodo panted when he couldn't stand the teasing any longer. He managed to simultaneously writhe, arch his back and grope about for the vial without completely breaking the kiss. He quickly found the small bottle and handed it to Sam.
"I need a little preparation, but don't dawdle, please, or I'll be finished before we start."
Sam didn't dawdle; Frodo barely had the time to remove his breeches and turn round to face the partition before feeling Sam's oiled fingers press against his hole. Sighing in satisfaction, Frodo widened his stance and offered himself with abandon. Despite the haze of arousal, Frodo became aware he trusted Sam instinctively, and it was not something he was used to feel with his tricks. He had never been attacked or beaten, but the risk was always present and Frodo never let go of a healthy modicum of watchfullness.
Right now, it didn't feel like he would need his wits about him; that was a good thing, because when Sam replaced his fingers with his cock and started to push slowly but powerfully into him, Frodo stopped thinking altogether. Obviously, there wasn't enough space in him to contain the pleasure he got from the hard shaft filling him to perfection and a single coherent thought. He heard himself whimper, and Sam grunt in his ear.
"Is... Is this alright? Can I go on?"
Frodo nodded frantically, and Sam, grasping Frodo's hips, started to move. He took his time, alternating short jabs and long strokes, clearly trying to discover which move pleasured his partner the most.
"Wrap your arms around me," Frodo panted, and Sam complied quickly, bending over Frodo's back and embracing him so strongly that Frodo was barely able to breathe and had to brace himself against the partition with all his might. He didn't mind; he felt surrounded by Sam's strenght, his warm skin, his scent of soap, clean sweat and arousal; his hairy thights and belly rubbed delightfully against Frodo's buttocks, and in that position his cock head hit Frodo's prostate with every thrust.
It was... Well, perfection. So, of course, it had to end. Their coupling was so intense anyway that it couldn't last. Frodo was close, so close that he briefly wondered if he'd be able to come without touching himself. Then he felt Sam's oiled hand wrap around his cock, Sam's big prick pulse deep inside him, he heard him moan Frodo's name, and that was it. Ecstasy ripped through him, making him cry out several times in helpless pleasure, stealing his breath and his strenght. Legs shaking, he sagged back against Sam, who appeared to be in the same state and quite unable to support Frodo's weight; they both fell inelegantly on the floor, arms and legs tangled, panting and laughing. Sam's cock slid out Frodo's body, making him gasp, then sigh in regret.
"I... I hope I'll have it back there soon," Frodo said, a little shyly, not wanting to sound too eager. Sam, who obviously didn't know that being enthusiastic about a second meeting was not the thing done at the Golden Cock, wound his arms tightly around Frodo's shoulders and kissed the nape of his neck.
"I'll do everything to make it happen, my dear," he breathed in Frodo's ear. "Actually, I'd be happy to oblige tonight, but it's late and I'll start a new job tomorrow morning, so right now I need my sleep more than a second round, I'm afraid. But I'll be here tomorrow night, I promise. I never thought I'd find such a treasure near Hobbiton!" He nipped playfully at Frodo's lobe, making him giggle helplessly and wriggle against Sam's broad chest.
"I'll be here, too. I live in Hobbiton, and I spend most evenings at the inn... Not always in the barn, of course!", Frodo hastened to add, not wanting to be taken for an undiscriminating slut.
"I can't say I had enough time to enjoy the conversation and the company at the inn, since you whisked me away as soon as I stepped accross the threshold," Sam answered, grinning. "Don't worry, I was a willing victim, and you can kidnapp me as often as you want. I'll be working and living in Hobbiton for some time, too, so we won't have too much difficulties in kidnapping each other, I reckon."
*lots of love and hugs*