On the third day there was Slash and it was good. (random_fandom) wrote in hobbitsaresex,
On the third day there was Slash and it was good.

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Before I said I love you. (Tales from Frodo's past)

Hi all. I normally only role play, but with a new group I've joined, I'm interested in exploring Frodo's past. The things that happened before we began play. I wrote my first short tale from Frodo's past this morning. I'll be jumping back and forth through the years. Laying out a history for my Frodo in
the game.

(Summer of the year 1378)

Softly, a sweetly scented, morning breeze tosses the curtains into a swaying dance. Adding a gentle swishing sound to the myriad life that could be heard this early summer morning. And what a morning it was. The sky was clear, the wind was pleasing. Just enough to keep the sweat from forming on a certain lad's brow. Just the kind of morn that made all hobbits glad to be in the Shire.

It had been several hours since the day began for most, but here at Bag End, only one was up and about. Doing his chores with a soft tune floating from his lips. He'd already weeded two small gardens by the gate and cut the grass for the whole front lot. By the look of the sun in the sky, it was time to head to the east end of the smial. One part of his day that he never skipped. .

A rather bothersome gust of wind rushes into the bed chamber. Sending Frodo's curtains whipping about. The sound rousing the lad just enough to hear a second sound. One that was much more pleasing. It worked on his senses, coaxing his mind to let go of the sweet slumber. Promising more then what dreams can awaken.

As the clear enchanting sound draws near, a soft dreamy smile warms like the sun upon Frodo's face. Stretching slowly, one word is sighed from his lips. "Mmmmmmmm, Sam...."

Sleep wanted to reclaim him, but Frodo would hear none of it! Not when Samwise was so close. So close on the wind, that if Frodo lay still enough, he could feel Sam's breath teasing over his exposed breastbone. Of course it was only the breeze, but Sam was breathing in that same breeze and breathing out. Some of his breath would most absurdly be in that breeze that frolics over the hardening buds on his now heaving chest.

Oh how he would torture himself with such thoughts. Little did Sam know that his cheerful whistling could send his master into such a wanton state. Oh but it was a sweet torture. For in Frodo's mind, even just for a few moments - he was Sam's, and the lad would make Frodo feel delights that no other could fulfill.

Letting the image of Sam laying against him fill his senses, Frodo's lips part, "Oh Sam...." Whispering breathlessly as his eyes stayed closed and his hands slowly follow a path only Sam would choose. For in his mind those hands were Sam's, and they moved over his skin with such sensual caresses. Urged on by the
sounds of Sam just outside his window. So close.

The image of Sam's hands moving lower, lower until his eyes roll back while their shut. The lad taking a hold of his ridged shaft. Making Frodo's body shudder with the firm grasp. "Ayia uma, Sam.....alkarin, Samwise." (Oh yes, Sam..... Glorious, Samwise.) Hissing out praises to Sam. Calling his touch, glorious as his body responds in kind. His member weeping as it hardens beyond belief.

"That's good, you keep growing. So fair a rose you are."

Sam's sweet talking to his flowers serves his master well. Every word spoken was like a stroke of his fist. Making Frodo's body arch up to meet that glorious grip that Sam's hand held in his mind. The lad's words only made it all the more real.

"Oh now you need some attention, don't you?"

Whimpering as he nods to Sam's words. "Uhh.. yessss...Oh gods yes...........yes, Sam don't stop.... make me cum..." Keeping his pleas to a breathless whisper. Eyes squeezing tight as his hips thrust up, shooting his shaft through his fist in a pounding rhythm. Pleading silently for Sam to speak again. Fumbling blindly as he feels for the small towel he places under his pillow each night. Grasping it and throwing off the sheet as his body stiffens like a bow. Thighs tightening
solid as he teeters on the brink. Holding it off until Sam's own words set him free.

"Oi, there you are!"

His eyes can't help flashing open. Sam's words giving him a start as they send him over the edge. Hearing Sam like he's miles away, Frodo's body succumbs. Shuddering violently in his euphoria, his seed shoots from him. Grunting with every volley, until his body is spent and his chest is a shower of white satiny drops.

As his mind resurfaces, he wonders what Sam's excitement was about. Knowing the lad hadn't looked in, for his eyes clearly saw the window before his release over took him. Letting out a lilting sigh, Frodo reaches for the towel. Thinking for a moment how he could get caught by Sam so easily, but also knowing it's exactly why he does it.

His eyes cast down to look at the small pools on his chest. How he wished Sam's tongue would drag over his skin, licking him clean. Letting out another soft sigh, Frodo's longing smile turns into a smirk. Dabbing his finger in one of the
pools and bringing it to lips. "Then I shall taste it for you, Samwise."


Resting his elbows on the windowsill, Frodo plops his chin on his hands. Before him, Sam was kneeling with his back to him. It was most fun to watch Sam when he was unawares. The lad was his old self then. None of this Master Frodo nonsense. Ever since he'd become a tween, Sam had begun treating Frodo strangely. Suddenly he was more his master then his friend. It was a change that Frodo did not relish. Along with that change came his own. The lad was growing more handsome each day. Never had Frodo seen such a comely male hobbit as Samwise. So Frodo began watching Sam when the lad didn't know. It was the only time he'd get to feel the sheer joy of his Samwise. One that was unencumbered with holding his tongue and being proper.

"Mr, Frodo? Are you at your window watchin' me again?"

Nearly jumping out of his skin, Frodo leaps back from the window. Acting more like a tween himself, then a lad of marrying age!

Pouting as he goes over to his dresser, Frodo would have liked a few more moments to gaze at the lad's form. If it'd only been warmer, then he would have had a treat! A shirtless Samwise was a gift from the Valar! No such luck this day. "Damn breeze."

"What's wrong with the breeze, Mr Frodo?"

For a second time, Frodo leaps, but with a squeak this time. Looking to the window and seeing only Sam's head poking above the sill. "Sam, must you start me so? I shant have breath enough to stand with one more shock!"

Eyebrows rased, "So you were spyin' on me Sir! I knew you had been!"

Turning to see Sam, Frodo tries to ignore the lad's look of shock. "I merely came to the window to see what the weather was like, Sam. I was fancying a walk." Glancing out the of the corner of his eye, Frodo turns fully when he sees Sam is gone. "Sam?" Coming over to the window, Frodo peers out, not seeing Sam anywhere.

Bewildered, Frodo lets out a whimper. Did he upset Sam some how? That thought made him feel ill. Hurting Sam, even unintentionally, it was just too much for Frodo to consider. Bringing his hand to his brow, Frodo lets out a long sigh.
Slowly beginning to turn, Frodo's brow furrows. Fearing the worst.

"Why are you sighing, Sir?"

Taking in a sharp gasp of air as he'd been turning around. Sam is not at the window, but in his bedchamber. Standing not three feet from him and holding his favorite walking stick.

"Ya said you'd be fancyin' a walk, Mr Frodo. Remember, you asked me to take your walkin' stick to Master Bracegirdle for repairs. Are you alright, Sir? Ya seem awfully tense, Mr Frodo."

Yes, tense was a word one could use, thought Frodo. He'd be calmer if the lad hadn't gave him such a start in the first place! "I thought you were still in the garden, Sam. I'm merely startled at how quickly you can move." And how I can feel my body stirring with you this close, thought Frodo.


Glancing at Sam as he moves to sit on his bed for a moment, Frodo wonders why the lad didn't speak more? "Oh, what, Sam?"

Watching as the lad fidgets, not looking into Frodo's eyes once. Clearly Sam was chiding himself for something, but what, Frodo hadn't a clue. "Never mind, Sam. It was kind of you to bring me my repaired walking stick. Though, I think my walk will have to wait. I have a letter that needs to be composed before uncle Bilbo is after me about it again." Rolling his eyes and smirking at Sam, his face shines as Sam's shy smile returns. He would gladly write twenty letters to the Mayor of the Shire, if it meant seeing the most beautiful smile in all of Middle Earth.
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