Firenze di Notte (amoury) wrote,
Firenze di Notte
amoury

Part Two of my entry

Sam’s eyes widened as they dared look down at where his hand lie, feeling something engorged and hard. It was most certainly pressed betwixt Frodo’s legs, Frodo’s fingers urging his own to close around him. In all Sam’s life, he’d never imagined he’d be doing what they were right at this moment. “Sir… are you sure… that…”

“I’ve been wanting to do this for years.” Frodo’s voice rushed out. “I’ve wanted to take your hand and make you touch me, even if you didn’t want it. I’ve imagined you, tied to my bed, my body straddling yours and loosening the ties of one wrist so I could force your hand to me, making you grasp me, hoping and praying that somewhere you could look past my indecent actions and find that you really, really liked it.”

Frodo’s voice was so hurried and frantic; Sam could see that Frodo was near mad, yet still full of direct intent.

“I dreamed of being your master, however improper. I’ve fantasized in such delicious, horrible ways, making you bend to my will, using your job as leverage…” Frodo’s desperate voice stopped dead here, staring at Sam intently. “I’d never. I’d never do that to you. Ever. Never. But it gives me such a thrill to think on. Please don’t hate me… especially now,”

Sam couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “How…” he choked out the words. “How long have you thought of that…?”

“Since I first really, really looked at you. Years ago. You’d gone from being a… young lad, with nothing but carefree thoughts, childish and begging for stories. That time, when you’d fallen into a mud pile near the shed, slipping. I laughed at first and so did you, remember?”

“Y-yes,” Sam stammered. Frodo nodded slowly, unbuttoning his breeches with a free hand, the other still holding Sam, groping himself with Sam’s fingers.

“And I insisted you take a bath, and hadn’t thought of the repercussions until… I accidentally passed by and the door was open a crack… oh by the Valar…” Frodo nearly yelped out, so loud and sudden Sam’s eyes widened. Had he…?

“Did you watch me?”

“You were stepping into the tub, wincing at the heat of the water, pausing… you eased your body so slowly into the water, I could SEE…” he paused, closing his eyes and swallowing hard. “Your sac… dangling from behind, inches above the water. I swore I saw it recoil and relax… then your beautiful, long yet soft…”

Oh heavens. Oh by everything good and plenty. Oh…

“Sam you can hate me. I watched you and you didn’t know. My latest dinner or no, I’m speaking like I’ve always spoke to myself about you, out loud, TO you, and I hate myself for it, and I love myself for it…”

“I don’t hate you, Frodo,”

“You don’t?”

“No. Not one bit.” Sam said. The smile on Frodo’s lips as he looked upon him, eyes coming open in a small crack…

“Sam… would you like to be with me, as I am now? Oh please…”

“Yes.”

Frodo’s face relaxed. “I love that fish.”

“Don’t think I haven’t sneaked a glance to you either, you know.”

Frodo’s eyes flew open with shock and intrigue. “Tell me.” He said, the voice gone into a deeper, wanton tone. Sam’s smile went broad.

“You’ve… had your fantasies, right? Me being all tied up… when I had the same vision of you. Especially…” Sam said with a great, memory induced sigh. “When you got tangled up into your cousin’s mischievous trick of being pinned down on this very floor in front of us, tickling you madly. They were unrelenting, they were. And I watched on laughing, head full of pipe-weed and ale, just… looking at you, tears streaming down your face, begging for them to stop. In my mind I was on you… and you begged for more.”

“Oh…” Frodo uttered. That was all it took.

Sam swiped Frodo’s hold on him and pulled back. Frodo stared at him, eyes wider than they had been. Before he could say anything on the matter Sam pushed him down roughly onto the couch, watched him bounce once and then climbed atop of him, his knees wedging around his hips tight to keep them both from toppling onto the ground. “How do you want me, Frodo love? I’ll be anything for you.”

“Hard… in more ways then one,” Frodo said, his head digging into the couch as he arched his neck, smiling and biting his lip.

“That I am, already. I can be harder. In more ways…”

“Ravage.”

“What?” Sam said, taking a soft kiss to Frodo’s hand that lie on the couches back in a tight grip into the velvet.

“Ravage… me. Make me yours,”

“You already are.”

“More.”

“Oh Frodo, love,” Sam murmured. He dug into the core of himself, going past the gentle, shy Sam to find his hidden desires… remembering this lovely creature flailing the way he had that night, tangled in his youthful, crazy cousins… his sweet submission that stemmed out of the rough tickles…

And how impatient he was, straining his head up stiff to grab onto Sam’s lips; this first kiss given in complete disarray, hungry and pushing onto him like an earthquake, diving in then out, nearly cracking every sense Sam had within him. Frodo moaned and writhed; creating an image Sam had only ever daydreamed about. “You’re an insatiable one,” Sam said roughly as they drew back, his voice thick.

“Sate me, just do your best at it, please,”

Sam grabbed Frodo’s shoulders and pulled him closer, bringing his neck to Sam’s lips. Frodo moaned out so loud as he bit into the soft skin, loving the taste betwixt his teeth. He teased gently with the tip of his tongue, smoothing over the nubs of flesh pressed so tight. He would leave Frodo many reminders of this night. When that meal was gone, leaving Frodo breathless and back to his senses, he would make sure nothing was forgotten. He left mark after mark, each time causing Frodo to wince and buck wildly. Lines of forming bruises and welts formed, creating such a lovely portrait. He wished for a moment that an expert painter entered now, making them frozen in time with paints and canvas.

His mouth became gentle, letting Frodo’s arched back ease down onto the velvet. He wanted to savor him as he would a grand meal, licking and gnashing teeth ever so gently into the intoxicating skin. Frodo tossed his head from side to side slowly, curls draping over his forehead and shoulders, creating more fine images for Sam to look upon. He smiled to himself as he lifted his face from his blushed belly, reaching up to Frodo’s wrists. His mind bent to the idea of teasing this wonderful creature, to bring him to his fish-lusted-needs, so silly yet effects so enticing. He felt so bold and daring, like he could simply take what he wanted without consequences; which, as it was being proved right before him, there weren’t. He couldn’t quite explain it, but it didn’t matter once again.

“S-Sam… please come back,” Frodo purred up to him, bending his head back to bare the tense lines in his neck. Sam smiled.

“For what, Frodo m’dear?”

“You know exactly,”

“Explain it to me. In great detail… what you want, that is,” Sam told him, bending low with a grin. “It’s not that often I get to be hearin’ such things from ye, y’now,”

Frodo swallowed and opened his eyes, tilting back to face Sam. “I want more pain.”

“Ah, you’re one of those…”

“Mmhmm,”

“Has anyone ever inflicted that on you?”

“Only myself,”

Sam became intrigued. “Yourself? How so, darling?”

Frodo smiled, almost bashfully. “I once took a belt…” Frodo started, his smile vanishing as he spoke. “I wanted to see... to see what pain could feel like in the most private of places,”

“Oh?”

Frodo nodded quickly, biting his lip. “I worked the strap around... oh... Sam it’s so difficult to explain,”

“I’m getting a right fine picture as it is,” Sam said, grinning. Oh if he only knew his master to be so wild!!

“I hope you don’t think it’s...” Frodo paused, looking into his trembling hands. “Disgusting,”

Sam shook his head slowly. “I wouldn’t be thinkin’ that, not at all,” he said quietly. Frodo nodded, eyelids closing and opening slowly.

“Sam?”

“Yes?”

Frodo bent his head up to Sam’s shoulder, brushing his lips against the sensitive skin. “Hurt me. Please...”

This request would normally be seen as something Sam could never do. He couldn’t explain however the drive to do so in hearing his master’s voice, urgent and trembling from want. The want to have Sam’s hands on him in such a callous way; Sam couldn’t explain it, not at all... until he remembered....

“Here. Try it.”

He too had gotten more than Frodo as an intoxicant. The sudden realization made one hand crawl to his neck, rubbing it gently at first, running firm fingers over the smooth skin. Frodo’s body tensed, waiting. Sam stopped rubbing and kneaded, working down to his collarbone, onto his chest....

There. One hand cupped over the slightly raised flesh... fingers curled inwards, feeling the raised lump of Frodo’s nipple, so peaked and perfect. Frodo let out a breath in halted, raspy gasps in feeling Sam’s touch on him. Before Sam could get the idea to tease, his Frodo’s request came to his head sharply; his thumb met his pointer finger around the sensitive nub and without warning, clenched.

Sam had never seen that look on Frodo’s face before. His eyes went wide, wider than Sam had ever seen them, staring up at the ceiling as his head went back, mouth open in a soundless cry. Sam furthered the intensity by twisting his finger’s hold, pulling and flicking the very end of it with his middle finger. Frodo dropped onto his back and wailed out loud now, his eyes closing shut. “Oh... o-oh...” Frodo gasped out in panting breaths. “Harder... and- the o-other...”

Sam obeyed. Both hands with both sets of fingers went busy sending the lovely creature below him into beautiful pain. He leaned forward and bit down onto his neck harshly, making Frodo’s arms flail out and grab the couch. His knuckles went white as those hands shook, holding onto the velvet tight. “Yes… yes… yes…” he said over and over; Sam could see tears streaming down his cheeks. He didn’t stop however, knowing what those tears represented; ecstasy, lust, and release. Sam had never felt like this in his life, ever. He had all rights to Frodo just as he was; wanton and lost inside a mind intoxicated with a passionate drive. Sam didn’t wait for any more requests; one hand left his chest and moved down in one sharp, precise movement past the waist of Frodo’s breeches and grasped him- Frodo threw his head back and stilled completely, nostrils flaring with long hisses of breath. As Sam moved his hand slowly upon his shaft Frodo opened his eyes and looked at him. “Tell me that I’m yours,” his shaky voice requested. Sam could have passed out then and there, but knew better. He started to rub at him harder, Frodo’s legs opening slowly to allow more room. Sam smiled as he caressed Frodo’s cheek lovingly.

“You’ve always been mine, m’love,” Sam told him, kissing his cheek softly. “In every dream and thought. Always mine.”

Frodo’s eyelids clenched tight hearing the words, his mouth shuddering open. Sam couldn’t help from kissing his cheek up to his ears, absolutely loving the feel of Frodo’s skin. Did he really realize what a beauty he was, all tangled up on this couch underneath him? He began mumbling something, going unheard by Sam. “What?” Sam asked, kissing at his earlobe.

“Undress me,”

Sam smiled warmly. He leaned upwards, putting both hands at the laces of his breeches, looking down at him. “You are a beauty, you know.” Sam murmured, staring at the lustful expression on Frodo’s face.

“Thank you,” Frodo said, not smiling back. “Now, off,”

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “You’re a demandin’ one, aren’t you? Perhaps we should go out and fish again. I like you like this,”

“Sam-“ Frodo went to protest; However Sam had started unlacing his breeches with slow, accurate movements. “Faster,” Frodo made another demand. Sam was finding it hard not to chuckle; even with the act he was now performing he found it hard not to want to laugh. Getting them fully untied he slid them down Frodo’s legs, savoring the sight of Frodo’s pale skin coming to view. Next were Frodo’s small clothes; once that was done the smile faded from Sam’s lips. Oh, he was marvelous. Better than he’d fantasized in dreams. His long, pinked shaft was hard and firm, standing to attention as Sam brushed a hand over it. “Now you,” Frodo breathed the words, looking betwixt Sam’s legs with a hungry look. Sam narrowed his eyes and smiled, reaching to his restraints. He pulled the waist of his breeches and small clothes down together, letting the head of his hardened cock release itself. Frodo’s eyes went wide, lips parted with a look of shock. “Sam… you’re huge.”

Now Sam laughed heartily, looking down on himself. True he was well endowed, he knew that much. Looking back at Frodo he laughed even harder seeing that his expression hadn’t changed. “Too big?” he teased. Frodo looked to Sam’s face now, licking his lower lip.

“I want it.” He muttered. Then without warning Frodo slid his body downwards, moving his mouth upon the hardened flesh instantly. Sam’s eyes flew wide open then closed, all in one movement. If he’d kno0wn how far his master could swallow… oh, this would have happened ages ago…

“You…” he croaked out, swallowing hard. “Have a very… talented mouth,”

Frodo hummed at the compliment, making Sam’s entire body tense with pleasure. He felt hands reaching behind him and grasping the small of his back, working downwards. He nearly fell in a crash at what Frodo was doing now; his fingers brushed to the cleft of his backside, pushing past the skin as if searching. Sam wanted to ask what he was doing, but all that was uttered from his mouth was a choked “Ungh!” as Frodo found what he was looking for. One of his fingers was tracing around the firm muscle of his entrance, gently prodding. Sam felt Frodo’s mouth slide back up, leaving him slightly to speak.

“Sam…”

“Yes, yes?”

“Tup me,”

Sam looked down past his chest, seeing Frodo’s blissful expression. He moved downwards to face him, touching his cheek with his fingertips. “It would hurt… wouldn’t it?” he asked. One of Frodo’s hands slapped at the table, fingers flying along it’s edge. He found the drawer within it and pulled it open hastily. Sam watched with a confused frown as Frodo searched around, finally coming out with a small jar.

“It’s a balm… use it for calloused fingers…” he breathily replied, handing it to Sam. “Ready me. Please.”

Sam opened the jar, finding a peppermint-scented balm. He put two fingers into the oily mixture, finding it smooth and deliciously warm to the touch. Yes, this would work wonderfully. He worked some onto his fingers, rubbing it around as he reached downwards. “Have you… done this before?”

Frodo nodded slowly. “Once. Back home… oh Sam…”

His fingers had found their mark, sliding the oil onto his tense entrance and inside, reaching with delicate movements upwards. Sam watched as Frodo’s eyes fluttered closed, showing white past the lashes. He smiled, resting his head on Frodo’s chest. “What was it like?”

“Odd.” Frodo muttered. Sam chuckled.

“How so?”

“Stop talking and fuck me.”

Sam drew back, looking upon Frodo with a wide-eyed gaze. “MY… your MOUTH!”

“Considering what my mouth was doing just a few moments ago, I don’t think we need worry about what I say.” Frodo rushed out, his voice cold. Sam smiled nonetheless and sighed.

“Just like that then? I’m not quite sure yer ready-“

“Do it.”

He surely liked this demanding tone- that was true. “All right then.” Sam said; he then moved his body down and moved his throbbing shaft to its destination. Remembering that Frodo seemed to relish the pain of erotic acts he didn’t even think as he slid himself inside in one, hard thrust. Both their bodies stilled at this, Frodo letting out a high-pitched whimper. Sam didn’t ask or say anything; he simply looked down on him, waiting for him to either beg or protest.

“More.”

Given all permission, Sam began to move within him, sliding in calculated movements. Frodo’s arms trembled as they brought themselves to Sam’s sides, clutching him tight. “Yes… oh yes… harder… please, more…” he begged, making Sam’s head feel dizzy. That voice; the things it did to him right now as he thrust in harder, deeper, “More…” oh good glory…

His movements started going more animalistic as he grunted, pushing as deep as he could possibly go. Frodo’s body writhed and pushed and pulled, his head thrown back and caught there by his hair. Sam growled and leant down, biting his tender, already bruised skin. Frodo’s hands grabbed his hair forcefully, pulling him closer until they may as well have been one body. “I love you Sam…” Frodo’s shuddering voice told him, tear-filled and straining. Sam closed his eyes.

“By the Gods, I love you…”

The two of them were one body of rhythmic pulse, moving in and around each other. They embraced tight, clutching to each other as if one may fall and never be seen again. Sam held his breath as he felt his enormous climax rise to the surface, beginning to fire off in heavy breaths and movements. Frodo was there already as he started screaming out in shrill cries, words gone incoherent as he pushed his hips upward, making Sam dive into him forcefully. They shuddered together as Sam held onto Frodo desperately, feeling his release, Frodo’s warm entrance gone hotter and wet with his come. He pushed a few last times, head reeling with absolute ecstasy. He would have collapsed onto Frodo if he weren’t already completely joined with him.

They lay there for a moment, breathing hard and deep. Sam lifted his head, seeing the curls at his brow shaking past his eyes, one small drop of sweat falling onto Frodo’s neck. “That was…” he said with a swallow, staring at him. Suddenly Frodo moved up, knocking Sam onto his back and leaving him. He straddled Sam’s hips and smiled wickedly down at him.

“Your turn.”

 

 

To say that both Sam and Frodo were completely overcome by lust and exhaustion hours later would be a definite understatement. “That was…”

“Four…?”

Sam shook his head. “More than that. Much more.”

They’d ended up on the floor somehow, though Sam could not recall when. It didn’t seem to matter as he looked to Frodo as he breathed hard on the rug, body splayed out in such a delightful pose of a lad overcome by lust, eyes closed, lips smiling.

“Thank you, Sam. This has been…” Frodo started, chuckling a little. “A day to remember.”

“Aye.” Sam uttered, going to lie on his side. “Looks like we may have to go fishing more often.”

Frodo now laughed aloud; he seemed to be gaining his senses back; Sam didn’t know whether to be relived or resentful. He turned to Sam and smiled. “Might not… need to. If I’d known how… wonderful you were with…” he said softly, looking betwixt Sam’s legs. “Dear Gods.”

Sam laughed, moving closer to him and cuddling Frodo to his chest. “Anytime, love. Anytime.”

“Mmm,” Frodo said. Sam knew he was fast asleep before he took his next breath.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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