West of the Moon
A Tolkien Fanfiction Archive
Warm impulses gets the better of both Rosie and Frodo because, baby, it's COLD outside! Rose/Frodo
Author: Singe Addams
This story was written for the hobbit_smut
Livejournal Community 'First
It was absolutely freezing outside and that made all the difference to Rose Cotton's sense of propriety, obviously. "LET ME IN NOW, s...sir, please, thank y...you!"
"ROSE!" To her bewilderment Frodo threw his arms around her and dragged her inside Bag End like a trapdoor spider. Rosie's cold air went straight into his lungs and he coughed as he reluctantly forced his arms away to shut the door. He wanted to put on his uncle's old ring and disappear out of sheer embarrassment but he did not apologize. Acknowledging one's own odd behavior only intensified it in the eyes of others. "Nice and warm in the kitchen. Come along," he said.
He wondered if he should offer to take her cloak but, the way she was clutching the wool with frigid fingers, there would have been a mighty fight for it. She was almost running when they turned into the glowing warmth of the heart of the smial. The huge oven and the hearth were both blazing against the frightening chill outside, and the round windows were frosted over into magnificent patterns of ice and winter sunlight. The smell of the sweet rolls that Frodo had popped into the oven before answering her frantic knock was just beginning to make its cinnamon presence felt. Rose approached the hot oven with her gloved hands held out as if she were sleepwalking towards a lovely dream. She let out a pleased groan that hit him square in the belly. Frodo ducked into the pantry to collect himself and see what sort of hot drink he could make for her. Tea? No. Cider? No. Chocolate! Perfect. He picked up the chocolate box and reentered the kitchen. "What in the world are you doing out today? Not that I'm not desperately glad to see you."
Rose smiled at the compliment. "I th...th...thought I could v...visit Number Three with no p...problems and I was right but Sam wasn't home! And I w...wouldn't have made it back to the farm, I don't think. Th...thank you, sir," she said again as she did a hopping little dance in front of the stove and Frodo smiled.
"I believe the Gamgees are all being held for ransom in Tighfield, still," he said and began to grate the chocolate into a small saucepot.
She laughed. "You'll p...pay it, won't you?"
He added milk and, approaching slowly, reached around Rosie to put the pot on the stove. "I was going to go offer but it's too c...cold for sensible hobbits to be out. They can stay p...put," he said, looking down his nose at her, and she laughed again. Soaking in the sound he took down another cup and saucer from the pantry and added them to the kitchen table beside his own lone setting. Bah. Miserable weather keeping him trapped inside and driving him mad.
"Cabin fever getting to you, too, sir? If I had to listen to my b...brothers fight one more time..." Rose shook her head and Frodo grinned.
"I was miserable. I hate being trapped inside, all alone." He mimed wiping a tear away.
"Aw, now I thought you liked being alone?" Her voice was creeping towards normal and she had stopped her little dance in front of the stove.
Frodo tilted his head to the side and considered it. "I don't mind being alone but, sometimes, especially on days like today, I feel like I'm not alone at all. There's no one here but I feel like I'm being watched." He stopped there and shook his head, repenting of telling her that much. But Rose wasn't laughing or even spooked. She simply nodded her head in understanding and Frodo's relief at having another person with him increased until it was almost painful.
"It's that blasted wind, sir. Howling around the chimneys and creeping under doors. Rattling things and getting up the back of your neck 'til you're half crazy. Like all the ghosts in the world are lining up to grab you." Frodo nodded, greedy for her defensiveness. She looked him straight in the eyes. "No more worrying over it!"
His spine snapped straight. "Yes, ma'am! As long as you're here to hold me tenderly, anyway." He couldn't be sure if her high color was a blush or if she were merely thawing well.
She grinned at him. "You're failin' as a bachelor, y'know." Ah, it had been a blush.
He gave her an appalling leer that he would never have tried on in front of her father or brothers. "You caught me at my weakest!" She laughed out loud and, drawn, he went back to her and tugged on the collar of her cloak. "Now, let me hang this up. You'll get warmer, faster, without it." She still surrendered it somewhat reluctantly. "Give me your coat, too." Rose unbuttoned her long, heavy overcoat and handed it over as well. Then she unwrapped her thick woolen scarf and draped it on his arms. Then her hat and gloves. Then she gave him her undercoat. Then a long, green sweater that used to belong to one of her brothers. Finally she was down to her indoor dress and stopped but Frodo, weighted down with her things, still waited expectantly with a mischievous little smile turning up the corner of his mouth.
She swatted at him with numb fingers. "Get out of it, Failure," she warned, and he went away, chuckling, to make a neat pile of her things in a nearby parlor. Coming back, he stood a moment in the kitchen door to watch the firelight play over her. He had always enjoyed the very sense of Rose. She was going to be blessed and comfortable for her entire long life, he felt it plainly, and that truth cast a light almost as strong as the flames in the hearth. He could contemplate her for hours. He wanted his own restless life to be so happily sure. He wanted to connect himself to her as if she were a storm anchor. He wanted...the dim sound of the cold wind blowing in the flue decided him. He quietly walked in, crossed the kitchen floor, and stood behind her for a moment.
Her ears were a startling red. Frodo wanted to tweak them but he was afraid the delicate tips might snap off. "Your poor ears," he said and she jumped, looking over her shoulder. He reached up, turned her head back around, and covered her ears with the warm palms of his hands. A strange sound that was half laugh, half scandalized protest came from his guest. "Shh, you don't want to lose them do you?"
He uncovered an ear. "I said, you don't want to lose one, right?" He covered it again. "You blessed thing, you."
"No sir, I'd look right funny if that happened," she agreed and held still. And sighed with pleasure, too, or Frodo was very much mistaken. He enjoyed the feel of her soft hair on his fingertips. He moved his hands forward and felt the cold of her smooth cheeks. Then he tsked with disapproval and lifted her hair to give a toasty touch to the back of her chill neck.
"You are cold. Cold all over, a perfect little Rosecicle," he murmured as he helplessly trailed his fingers down from her neck onto her shoulders. Now, there was no mistaking these touches for something different than what they actually were. The last pitiful rags of his hospitality rebuked him for not giving her the hot chocolate first, at least, before he tried for this. "I'm cold, too," he whispered.
Rose was as still as a marble pillar for a moment before she breathed in once, twice, and then leaned back against him. "The weather's awful. Just awful," she said. Utterly grateful, Frodo wrapped his arms around her shoulders and simply held her for a moment, his chin on her hair. Then he turned her around and pulled her close. She wrapped her arms around his waist and gifted him with a tight hug and that terrible, haunting Watching went away as if it had never been.
"Ah, Rose, thank you," he whispered. She snuggled into his chest and he gasped at the sensation. Yes. Much, much better. Much. "There we go," he encouraged softly and tried to make himself even more snug for her. She gave a lingering kiss to his neck before laying her icy cheek against it. He stopped still for a moment, eyes wide, then he kissed her on the top of her head.
"You don't mind my being cold?" she mumbled shyly.
"I don't mind."
"I'm glad. You feel so good," she said against his breast and nuzzled in even more. "So good." Frodo broke. There was no other word for it. He broke and untucked his shirt from his breeches with one hand while keeping a tight hold on her with the other. He slid the fabric from under her frigid hands and she started at suddenly feeling the warm, bare skin of his back.
Her fingers flattened underneath his shirt as she kissed the pulse in his neck again with chill lips. The sensation of it snapped his head back and he hissed through his teeth.
"Poor thing," he moaned, "Poor Rose. Don't worry, you won't be cold for long." He picked her up, walked away from the stove, and set her on the kitchen table. Warm, he had to get her warm. He would work on her lips, first, and he did, kissing, kissing her mouth, gently, slowly reveling in this and this and this.
Rose gasped and smiled. "Your lips are hot!"
He waggled an eyebrow. "Why, thank you," he pressed in again while his hands rubbed up and down her arms, stirring the blood into circulation. She opened her mouth, possibly to laugh, possibly to tease him, but she wound up letting him in, letting him in to do whatever he damn well pleased and Frodo covered her chilled ears again as he tilted her head back so he could taste deeply, deeply.
Well, we're in a mood, Rose thought stupidly as Frodo took complete control of her mouth. "Shut up! He's warm!" her body exclaimed and Rose moaned in combined shock and pleasure at the heat being given to her. She realized he was untying her clothing. Some remaining dreg of propriety forced her to twist her head away and gasp "The chocolate might scald!" Then she watched her bodice arc through the air and hit the floor. "Oh, my," She was still looking down at it when Frodo ducked his head. His warm, wet mouth found her chilled nipple through the thin fabric of her undershirt. "That! Oh!" Bugger the chocolate. She trembled as he pulled her undershirt away then and, wonder of wonders, she was half naked in Frodo Baggins' kitchen. Her skin broke into goose-pimples at the very thought and Frodo stopped to glare at them angrily.
"No, you don't," he muttered and with one smooth jerk slid the heavy oak
table, Rose, dishes and all, across the floor until it was directly next to the hearth. Chairs went flying and Rose gasped. He was strong! He didn't look it. Naked to the waist, she sat on the table where he had firmly put her and studied him with bright eyes. What next? As if to satisfy her startled fascination, Frodo put his thumbs under his braces and slid them off his shoulders. He flicked the buttons on his cuffs free. Then he unbuttoned the others one-handed and she watched his long fingers travel slowly down from his neck, to his chest, then to his waist as he twisted the fastenings open. He shrugged out of the heavy fabric and sent his shirt to join her bodice on the floor. He compulsively mussed his hair away from his forehead then and Rose wanted to cry at the sight. He was self-conscious. He had no need to be.
And this was a dream. One of those thrilling dreams she sometimes had about the Master of the Hill, that's all. It was the only thing that could possibly explain this. "You're lovely," she whispered as she leaned over and touched his chest. He flinched and she jerked her hand away. "I'm sorry! I'm still cold." She held her arms in front of her breasts and rubbed her hands together.
"Still cold? What kind of host would I be if I allowed that?" Frodo murmured and, taking her hands, breathed on them and kissed her palms with an open mouth. She breathed him in, rattled, but not wanting him to stop. Oh, no. He turned sideways and insinuated himself between her legs. Rose shuddered at his impossible closeness. She couldn't close her legs. She couldn't close her legs! Master Frodo was comfortably standing between her thighs and something deep inside her body began to pulse, clenching and unclenching with a hungry impatience and she shook her head in wonder. "Don't worry about a thing," he said as if he were simply removing a splinter from her finger. Slowly, slowly enough to dive her half crazy with waiting for it, he bent low and returned his warm mouth to her cold breast.
"Ohhh, Master Frodo," she sighed. What a nice dream. She wanted to touch him but her hands were still unpleasantly chilled and distracting him would be a crime against herself. He moved to her other nipple, sucking, gently biting, and she felt another shriek begin to build. She covered her mouth to muffle it as if her entire family would barge in with clubs and knives if she made a sound. But it was becoming so, so, so difficult. "OH! Please don't stop!"
Frodo almost laughed. Don't stop. All right, that was manageable. He rolled her nipple in his mouth and sucked on it, pulling hard, and pulling even harder when he switched to the other. Rosie gasped. He lifted her heavy, winter skirt and ran his fingers up her legs to her waist. He found the tie to her undershorts and pulled it, loosening them. He was able to slip them down and off without any help from her at all and the way she was whimpering it was doubtful she even knew they were gone. But she felt his hands on the skin of her hips and straightened from a half-swoon, putting a hand on his shoulder and then snatching it away again as if touching him weren't allowed. He caught the back of her head with both hands and kissed her mouth again, to reassure her, to warm her, to drive her as insane with wanting as he was. Such kissing. Deep, slow kissing. Rhythmic kissing that brought her hips up from the table to match the music of it as she wrapped her legs around him and brought him even closer. He gently thrust against her in time with his tongue and they both groaned.
Frodo wanted every part of Rose at once, wanted it hard and NOW, but he controlled himself because this was too good to be over with too soon. Oh, too, too good and he ran his hands under her skirts again. He growled in sheer wonder. The skin on the inside of her thighs was the softest he had ever touched. He stroked it with his left hand and gently pressed down on the top of her mound with the other. She was certainly warm there. He slowly massaged her flesh, stroking her tightly curled hair, and pinching her outer lips together without intruding his fingers any further. He cupped her with his hand. Round and round and squeeze and squeeze and press and round some more with his palm...it was an indirect pleasure but a strong one and Rose was soon collapsed back on the table and panting. She clawed at the wood with her fingernails and Frodo smiled as he watched her and increased the pressure and the speed just the smallest bit...a cherry red flush spread across her skin as she began to writhe and then "Oh, oh, ohhhh, OHYESPLEASE! YES! OH, FRODO!" Her mouth was irresistible and he bent over and took it with his as her glorious shudders rocked the table. What dishes remained on the oak surface fell over or bounced to the floor and he broke away and laughed at the sheer ruinous fun of it all.
He stroked the soft skin between her thighs again, kissing her gently while she calmed. Boneless, she opened her eyes and looked at him. "Frodo...ah, Master Frodo, you..." He didn't want to talk. He cupped her again but reached in with his finger, at last, found, and gave her hardened nub a strong flick. Her fist came down on the table with a bang as she squeaked with surprise. He did it again. "Oh, no. No, don't do that anymore," she panted, eyes wide as she spread her legs open a bit more. Frodo grinned with sheer wanton wickedness, leaned down, and put his tongue to it.
Rose screamed loud enough to shatter glass and, reaching back above her head, clutched the edge of the table with all her strength to keep from stopping him. Her legs, too, held on to the opposite edge for dear life while Frodo's tongue nudged, played and licked her into burning madness. Lick here and lick there and glorious long taste there. Sometimes he'd go around and around and around that delicious part of her with the flat of his tongue, sometimes he'd attack her directly with the tip and, no, she didn't last very long. "FRODO! OHHHH! DAMNYESYESPLEASETHERE! AIIII!" She jerked upright with a shriek before dropping back, shivering and gasping until she was completely spent again.
When she opened her eyes he was leaning on his elbow just above her hips and playing with her bellybutton. He was smiling. That damn tongue, and then those damn teeth, began to tease her navel, too, and Rose moaned. No more of THAT, please, she couldn't stand it. It, indeed, was possible for a person to be teased to death. She sat up and hopped down from the table. She almost shrieked again from the pleasant jar that resounded through her as her feet landed on the floor. Oh, she was throbbing.
Frodo, however, couldn't have looked more surprised and hurt than if his roasted Yule goose had just stabbed a fork into his hand and walked away. She took him reassuringly by the shoulders and rose on tiptoe to kiss him.
Right then, they both noticed the smoke.
The chocolate! Rose ran, still half naked, to take the little pot off the stove. She dumped the scalded milk into the sink, and the steam added new patterns to the glass of the kitchen windows. She checked the rolls. They were done and she found a potholder to take them out. She heard a thump and noticed Frodo had righted a chair and was sitting in it with his head down on the table. He was grinning but he looked to be in serious pain. "Please don't suggest we have a few. Not now," he breathed.
"No, no, no, no, no," she assured him, walking back. She undid her skirt and stepped out and away from the heavy cloth, forgetting she had ever been cold in her entire life. She was utterly naked in Bag End's kitchen as if it were the most normal thing in the world. She walked up to Frodo and leaned over to kiss him hard as if that, too, were the most normal thing in the world. He reached up and gently massaged her breasts, squeezing her nipples between his middle fingers as he flexed his hands and Rosie hummed with sheer sated pleasure.
He sighed against her mouth, then, and took his hands away from her to undo his breeches and free himself. Rose was thrilled by what she saw. Another large surprise from Master Baggins. "Come sit," he invited.
"Yes," she eagerly breathed. The innermost pounding of her body that was nowhere near satisfied yet grew stronger. But the stupid chair had arms and she couldn't straddle him properly.
She was going to suggest the floor or a return to the table or the wall or ANYTHING when he solved the problem by simply turning her around. "There. Now sit." She did, easing herself down around him and wincing a little. "Slowly, slowly, it's all right," he breathed and reached forward to slowly tease her most sensitive flesh, until she had taken all of him in. He moaned against the back of her neck and she gasped with pleasure. She was just so FULL and Frodo's fingers were still working on her as she turned her head and kissed him softly, deeply, and quite, quite thoroughly. Then he suddenly thrust up with his hips.
"Yes," his voice was rough as he thrust up again and still again and Rosie held onto the arms of the chair and groaned. He took his fingers away but she didn't miss them for long as he took her firmly by the waist. He pushed her slowly forward, then pulled her slowly back against him. He was strong, strong and she could feel the muscles shifting in his arms and his thighs as he lifted up beneath her. His hands were clenched tight on her and they were going to leave marks. She didn't care.
"Fr...Fro...oh, oh, oh..." she whispered as she began to rock, leaning forward then settling back against him, rocking, rocking with him deep inside her and she felt him, every part of him, slide within her hard and good as she tilted, rocked, away and back and away and back, both her feet twisted around the legs of the chair. Her knuckles were white on its polished arms and she threw her head back onto his shoulder as she desperately tried not to lose control. "I....you...MORE!"
Rose cried out and Frodo didn't lose his own control, no, he threw it away. The chair was limiting, he had no room to really, really give her anything so he wrapped his arm around her waist and stood, lifting her easily up. Then setting her quickly down to bend her over the table. She shouted and slapped her hands on the wood. Her feet were wide on the floor. Frodo caressed the soft skin of her back before bracing both hands on her shoulders to re-enter her with one slow, hard push. He ran his hands down, down to her rounded behind and he grabbed and pinched as he began to drive into her again. "YES! YES!" she wailed.
The luxurious, hot, tight ecstasy of her drew a shout out of him as loud as her own and he moved faster. Faster and harder and she banged the table with her fists again. The sound of it set him off further and he shouted to the roof. He bit her between her shoulder blades and she wailed. Oh, he loved that sound. He left more red marks on her shoulders and the back of her neck, sucking hard on her skin. He realized she tasted salty. She was sweating! This accomplishment struck him as wondrously funny and he laughed as he stroked her belly and hips and breasts and every living, warm inch of her that he could reach. Then the ecstasy overtook him and drove out all coherent thought.
"FRODO! FRODOFRODOFRODO!" she chanted as her body quaked yet again and she clenched around him, unbearably, beautifully tight.
"ROSE! THERE! YES!" His muscles became nigh-unbearably taut as he immediately followed her, pulses of rapture sweeping him into a release so strong he sobbed from the force of it. "Ah, there! There now, yes, ah..."
They collapsed, folding around each other on the floor like puppets with their strings burned away.
Several sticky, delightful, satisfied millenia later Frodo opened his eyes to the wreck of his kitchen. He was on the hearth rug and Rose was sprawled across his chest. It took a couple of tries, but he was eventually able to lift a languid hand and run his thumb down her cheek. He gently caressed her damp hair back from her flushed face. "Rose." Her eyes opened and she blinked as she focused on him. He smiled hopefully and she smiled back, almost with relief.
She slowly raised herself onto her elbow as she looked down at him. "I swear I only wanted to get warm," she whispered.
"Are you warm?"
She silently laughed. "Yes. Very."
"All's well, then," he insisted. She continued to look at him and he dropped his flippancy as he smoothed her hair back again. She smiled. "I swear I was only going to make you some hot chocolate."
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