West of the Moon

A Tolkien Fanfiction Archive



Reason to Stay
It is the day after Bilbo's departure and Frodo and Sam find themselves dealing with a troublesome Brandybuck.
Author: Aina
Rating: NC-17


This story was written for the hobbit_smut Livejournal Community 'First Line' Challenge.


It began the moment Merry pulled the missing teaspoon out of his breeches.

And it didn't stop for almost five whole minutes.

Amidst the furious explosion that poured out of Frodo's mouth, Merry managed to catch the words 'back to Buckland', 'nothing but a'... something or other, then, quite distinctly, 'Brandybucks'...

Now, at this point, Merry had no choice but to interject. "But Frodo, you're a-"

"Oh, shut up, Merry!"

The younger hobbit's mouth closed with a snap. He didn't know what Frodo was carrying on about, really. There was nothing wrong with the spoon -he cast his eyes over it briefly to check- it was warm, only a little sticky, and there was something fuzzy sticking to the handle -lint, probably- but other than that, it was fine.

And what was Sam making that face at him for? It was none of his business that Frodo chose to stand up and disrupt their quiet after dinner companionship in the previously peaceful front parlour of Bag End and rave at him like a wolf with his tail pulled, just because Merry'd had a spoon in his trousers.

"Do you mean to tell me," Frodo gritted out with a snort of anger that could have instilled fear in the heart of a dragon, "you had that spoon the whole time Lobelia was looking for it, and that you kept quiet?"


"You mean, you had it all along when she was calling me a thief and a cheat and a 'no good Brandybuck', and you said nothing?"

Merry gulped. He was still seated in his armchair before the fire, so his cousin loomed over him. His fists were twitching at his sides, making the younger hobbit cast an alarmed glance over the tabletop at his side, looking for items he might use to protect himself should Frodo suddenly decide to strike.

...Pipe, half-pint of ale, tinderbox... no... help!

"Frodo, it was just a-"

"Just a what? A joke? A prank? Oh, how perfectly hilarious of you, Merry Brandybuck, to keep your trap shut when she was saying all those horrid things about my parents, about Gandalf! And," his voice hitched, "especially about Bilbo."

Sam, sitting on the lounge chair, gave a small cry and Merry paled. In truth, it had been funny. He'd waited all morning for Lobelia Sackville-Baggins to find the case of silver spoons Bilbo left as a cheerfully spiteful parting gift. Already injured at the hard realisation she'd been cheated out of Bag End once more, and that good-for-nothing Bilbo had left her only a case of spoons, finding one of the set missing was really the last straw for the old bat.

Merry didn't think he'd ever actually seen his cousin cringe before -but Lobelia's biting words, coming hard on the heels of both Bilbo and Gandalf disappearing, possibly forever, was a bit much for Frodo's tender nerves.

He should have spoken up, he knew he should have. A hot wave of guilt swelled in Merry's stomach as he remembered the way he'd just stood there, watching his beloved cousin bear the full brunt of Lobelia's attack. One side of Merry's brain -the side that would rather die than let Frodo down- kicked him in the shins. The other side reasoned that it would take a hobbit of hard skin indeed to brave up to Lobelia Sackville-Baggins.

"Didn't I tell you this morning that I wanted your help today?" Frodo spat, and Merry was disgusted to see Sam nod agreement behind him.


"I wanted her off my property as soon as possible, you knew that."

Merry flinched. 'My property'... Oh Frodo...

"But instead of assisting me, you made sure she blew up in my face and hung about for hours. It took me so long to get her to leave. And her umbrella was full of bits of my belongings! Who knows what valuable item she could have stuffed inside her purse or her blouse-"

"Frodo! Please, I don't want to think about Lobelia's-"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Merry," Frodo folded his arms and rolled his eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Eru forbid, you would have something as horrible as Lobelia's blouse to think about today."

Merry bit his lip. That one hurt. His grip tightened on the silver spoon still in his fist as his mind tumbled over all the horrible things Frodo was thinking about that day. He dared a glance at Sam and found him gazing sympathetically at the older hobbit -if you could call a look that plainly said 'come hither and let me kiss it all better' sympathy. Frodo didn't seem to notice -as usual. Merry knew how besotted those two were with each other -everyone did, except them, apparently.

He also knew his cousin didn't care a whit for the many valuable things that had been pilfered by sticky hands throughout the course of the day; the one valuable thing that Frodo cared for most had disappeared the previous evening in a puff of smoke and blinding flash of light.

He'd been in bed asleep by the time Merry had tramped up from the Party Field, his blood singing with ale, so they hadn't been able to speak over the night's events. In the morning, Frodo had looked thoroughly exhausted, making Merry suspect he hadn't slept well at all, but the older hobbit had tried to act normally, and refused to talk.

Now Gandalf was gone as well, and Frodo looked to be at the end of his rope. The last thing he needed to be dealing with was a troublesome cousin. Merry's insides writhed with guilt. He'd only taken the spoon for a laugh -he thought it would help to lighten Frodo's sullen mood. He didn't expect things to go so badly, making the whole day worse than ever for his cousin.

He'd only wanted to help.

"Frodo I-"

"Yes, Merry?"

I'm so sorry. I know you wanted my help today, and I'm sorry I couldn't be there when you needed me most. I'd do anything for you, cousin. How can I make it up to you?

"I..." They were just there, the words he wanted to say, but he couldn't... quite...

"...Sorry," he finally managed to mumble, but that was all the apology he could squeeze out of himself.

Frodo looked at him blankly for a moment, then resumed his seat next to Sam. After a brief pause, he turned calmly the Gamgee at his side. "Well Sam, what do you think? Should I forgive him?"

Merry stared. Oh, he knew his cousin too well to suspect he would forgive this so easily. There had to be something more.

Sam glanced over at the troublesome Brandybuck with a look that held enough startling power to abruptly change the atmosphere between all three of them. The electricity behind it made Merry's insides writhe. But not with fear. There was something in those eyes he had only ever seen when... but certainly never from Sam Gamgee... no, he must be mistaken, it was ridiculous to suspect...

"No," Sam breathed, lower than Merry had ever heard him. The younger hobbit's eyes flew wide. Oh, help.

"I think it's about time we taught him a lesson, don't you?" Frodo suggested with the same low pitch in his voice Sam.

Merry tried not to splutter, and to assess the situation calmly, but then he caught the end of Frodo's glance in his direction -a look that shot a kind of heat through his veins that did not come from the fire at his side. -A kind he wasn't sure that was entirely appropriate at this point in time.

Sam's gaze suddenly darted from his master to meet Merry's eyes. "Aye," he breathed, and Merry was sure now -that dark glance was certainly not the kind he'd ever suspected to be receiving from any Gamgee. Was this the same shy and reserved gardener who wouldn't dare step out of 'his place' in front of gentry? "I daresay we can teach him a thing or two."

Frodo suddenly stood, and Merry gripped the armrests of his chair fiercely as his cousin lazily crossed the room to where he sat. Here it comes...

It was not until their knees bumped together that Frodo stopped and put his hands on his hips. "So Sam, what do you propose we do?" he asked the gardener, though his eyes never left Merry's.

"I just don't know sir," Sam replied with a chuckle, and though Merry continued to meet Frodo's intense gaze, he could see, out the corner of his eye, Sam beginning to stand. And oh, whatever horrible prank these two were planning for him, they'd best get it over with quick. Their behaviour was inexplicably and embarrassingly arousing, as much as he hated to admit it. His body was reminding him of other times he'd seen that look in Frodo's eye, but surely he wouldn't...

Frodo's grin widened. "Well, I know exactly what we should do."

Merry could only gasp and stare as Frodo suddenly lifted a knee and quickly moved himself so that he was in the chair with his cousin, straddling his lap and ohyesthat'snotsobad -but right in front of Sam!

The younger hobbit's hands raised compulsively to Frodo's thighs as his warm weight settled onto him, moving so close that Merry's vision was completely filled with his grinning face. Oh, warm, warm, and hot just... there...

He felt a tug as Frodo yanked the teaspoon he hadn't realised he still held onto for dear life out of his hand and Merry mouthed dumbly as his cousin drew the cutlery up to his lips and licked it, a long, slow glide of his tongue that immediately stopped the Brandybuck's lungs from functioning properly.

Then Frodo was leaning towards him, and Merry's vision went black as he closed his eyes. The gentle pressure of his cousin's lips slowly nipping at the corner of his mouth, and Merry found himself aching to open up and give himself fully to a sound invasion of his hot, silky tongue. But the older hobbit shifted back after only that brief tease and Merry opened his eyes to see Sam's strong arm curling about his master's waist. The gardener moved closer, until one knee pressed between Merry's, drawing Frodo back against his chest. Frodo tilted his head up and suddenly, they were kissing.

Merry blinked a few times in what he guessed was surprise. Frodo and Sam shifted comfortably to accommodate each other as their lips parted and the slow kiss deepened. And oh, oh! They were lovers! -That was no first time kiss of two long pining for each other. It was deep and thorough; practised a thousand times over until this gentle exploration of tongues and mouths was a simmering caress, a tender stroke quick to bring swift arousal to one's lover. -And, incidentally, to anyone who may be watching.

Merry shifted his hips in response to the sudden surge of heat to his groin. How hadn't he seen what Frodo and Sam were to each other before? It was so blindingly obvious he almost felt compelled to smack himself in the forehead. Instead, he held his breath, eyes raking over the exposed column of Frodo's throat, which rippled with moving muscles as his tongue worked inside Sam's mouth. The gardener's broad hand was pressed flat against the older hobbit's chest, one finger grazing back and forth where he fondled at a nipple through Frodo's shirt.

Frodo broke off breathlessly and Merry saw Sam grin as his lover gasped, "Bed. Now."

Well, so much for teaching me a lesson. "Goodnight then, you two," the Brandybuck laughed, barely hiding a twinge of regret in his voice as Sam helped Frodo to stand.

"Goodnight?" Frodo grinned at him, and fire flashed behind his eyes, "Oh no, my dear Merry," he reached out a hand, "You're coming with us."



In all the time he spent thinking about it afterwards -which was, in fact, more often than he cared to admit to either his cousin or himself- Merry would never recall how they managed to make it down the hall.

At one point, when he found himself with his back pressed against the wall and Frodo against his front, hands gripping hips in an all together too appealing way, he decided that they had gone quite far enough, thank-you-very-much and proceeded to plunder Frodo's mouth with his tongue.

He suspected, however, that it was Sam -who seemed to be enjoying pressing himself against the older hobbit's backside- that made an attempt to get them moving again. The tangle of limbs that resulted saw the makings of a very interesting position, in which it was Sam with his back to the wall, Merry sandwiched between he and Frodo, who, by all accounts, seemed to be attempting to squash the two younger hobbits into the same body. Not that Merry was complaining, of course. He would never tire of the errant jerk of Frodo's hips against his own, and was that -Sam's tongue- on his neck? Oh, it was... What was the use in a bed anyway? They'd just have to make it in the morning. Yes, staying right here and riding the waves that rippled through him from Frodo and into Sam was just fine!

Which was why Merry was so astounded when he suddenly found they had somehow made it to the bedroom. Right to the edge of the bed, in fact.

Frodo's mouth had left his, and he was nudging Sam from out behind him so he could sit on the edge of his mattress, dragging Merry between his knees by his beltloops as he went.

"I suppose I should ask you," he panted, his hands rising to begin efficiently unfastening Merry's shirt buttons, "Whether you want to do this before we end up molesting you."

He grinned and Merry felt a charge race up and down his spine. Ask me? You're undressing me!

"Of course I do," he replied huskily. He'd lost track of where Sam went, but never mind...

Frodo's mischievous grin widened. "I thought so," he purred, letting his hand slip down to squeeze the front of his cousin's breeches. Merry gave a cry and jerked compulsively into his hand, making Frodo chuckle.

Suddenly, they were cast into deeper darkness -apparently Sam had blown out the candles. Now the room was only lit by the smouldering embers flickering on the hearth, turning the room into a cavern of firey shadow.

"I know we said we'd teach you a lesson," Frodo went on, lifting his eyes to meet Merry's, "but I'm already tired of teasing. All is more than forgiven. All we want is for you to be here with us."

With no idea how to respond, Merry whimpered, groping for his cousin's arms, and tugging him up to stand. Frodo came willingly, giving a contented hum as he fell into his frantic kisses. Just then, Sam stepped behind him and pressed his face into his neck. Merry, suddenly filled to the brim with the profundity of what these two were offering, arched back into him, letting Sam's warmth cover and caress him.

Hands were tugging the shirt from his shoulders -he didn't know who they belonged to, and didn't care. Very soon, Merry found himself bare to the waist, and his cousin's mouth was leaving his to seek Sam's over his shoulder. The older hobbits kissed and Merry watched in awe, sandwiched in a firey embrace of strong arms and thighs pressing between his legs. Frodo and Sam pulsed on either side of him, and all at once, Merry was overwhelmed with the intensity of seeing them together. It was beautiful.

Frodo and Sam's mouths parted, and Merry gave a small cry, arching to take one for his own -Sam's- and, oh, he kissed differently to Frodo, but was no less wonderful at it. Merry realised that, for some reason, he'd expected Sam to be a passive, gentle kisser. But no, his tongue was hot and demanding against his own, and Merry dissolved into the caress, any reluctance he might have had leaving him in a hurry.

He was for a moment blissfully unaware of whatever Frodo was doing. His attention returned to his cousin fast, however, when Frodo, who slid down to his knees, nipped softly at his lower belly. Merry cried out and broke away from Sam's mouth, lifting his hands to grip the gardener's arms -circled about his waist- for support as Frodo's mouth slid lower, ghosting gentle pressure over the rigid bulge in his breeches.

"Sam," Frodo said suddenly, shifting back until he leant against the edge of the bed, looking up at the two younger hobbits in concern.

"Yessir?" The gardener replied, his voice warm and close to Merry's ear.

"We have a problem," Frodo said in all seriousness, "I believe Meriadoc has another spoon in his trousers."

Merry whimpered.

"Does he now sir?" Sam asked, doing his best to sound appalled, "We can't have that, can we?"

"No indeed," Frodo said firmly, and lifted his hands to begin unfastening his cousin's breeches buttons.

His hands were suspiciously clumsy, bumping and nudging at the hardness beneath them, and Merry bit his lip. He was gripping Sam's arms so tightly he was sure he'd leave bruises. Sam didn't seem to care, however, so neither did Merry, clenching tighter still as Frodo deftly stripped him from the waist down, letting his trousers and small-clothes gather at his feet.

"Oh my. By the looks of this, Sam, Merry's been trying to make off with my best serving spoon!"

"You don't say, sir?" Sam chuckled. Merry let his head slam back against the gardener's chest, screwing his eyes shut tight, waiting...

Breath. Hot breath on sensitive, throbbing arousal and Merry choked on a whimper, jerking compulsively towards that warmth. Frodo chuckled softly and moved his hands up to his hips to steady him. The younger hobbit could only watch desperately as his cousin shifted forward and laid a soft kiss on the rosy tip of his demanding erection. Merry spasmed, arching back against Sam and throwing his face to the ceiling as Frodo moved one hand to curl his fingers about the shaft. Then his lips were parting, sliding, drawing down. In one swift movement, the older hobbit took him deep inside. Merry choked and his knees gave way.

Luckily, Sam was there to catch him, his arms quickly moving to hook under the Brandybuck's armpits. Frodo drew back, laughing and Sam chuckled softly as he hefted a weak and stumbling Merry over towards the bed, onto which he unceremoniously tossed him.

Once the troublesome cousin was out of the way, Frodo stood, smiling, and busied himself in twining his limbs about his gardener. Merry held his breath, watching.

The older hobbits moved slowly, their hands skating over each other to unfasten buttons and buckles in a dance well practised and perfected. There was none of the clumsy fumbling evident of new lovers; every touch was well measured; a tender stroke here or there would bring gasps and heated murmurs into each other's ears.

The Brandybuck lay mesmerised, one hand absently grazing up and down his damp arousal as he watched the hypnotic motions that gradually brought the two contrasting tones of bronze and milky white flesh to view.

When they were finally bare, Frodo and Sam held one another close for a long moment, and Merry was sure they had forgotten he was in the room. It was heart-wrenchingly beautiful, to see them like this; bare as the day they were born, yet so comfortable and complete just being in each other's arms. Merry could almost believe he was looking at one of those stone carvings Bilbo used to talk about from the houses of the elves; so perfect, so still. Only their breathing and Frodo's slight tremble gave away that they had not, in fact, drifted off into legend. He counted himself blessed to be here with them; to share this moment of love and pleasure. It was like he'd stumbled across an enchanted world where the two of them existed in the firelight. Except he'd been invited, he was wanted...

Suddenly, Frodo's arms tightened fiercely about Sam's neck as he let out a muffled cry. Merry sat up, startled to realise that the sound his cousin had made was a... a sob.

"Sam!" Frodo panted, clinging to the hobbit before him like a babe to its mother, "Don't leave me. Never ever, ever leave me."

What? What was going o- oh. Bilbo...

Sam gentled him with his hands, calm as if he had been expecting this sudden outburst. "Hush love. Your Sam's here," he breathed into his curls as the older hobbit buried his face into his neck. "I'll never leave ye. Never. And nor will Mr. Merry, for that matter."

Frodo lifted his head and glanced at his cousin on the mattress as if just remembering he was there. Merry had to bite his lip against the sight of that flushed, raven-haired beauty, his dark lashes wet. "Never," he choked, "I'll never leave you either."

Drawing himself from Sam's arms, Frodo stepped over to the bed, crawling up onto it until he could capture his cousin's mouth with his own.

"And," Sam's voice reached Merry's ears as his tongue moved desperately against Frodo's, "We'll not let you go anywhere without us."

Merry gasped and pulled back. It hadn't even occurred to him that his cousin would try to suddenly vanish without him. But of course he would -it would be just like Frodo to disappear off into the blue without a word, perhaps after Bilbo, or on adventures of his own.

"Don't you leave us, either!" Merry cried, "don't leave us."

"I won't," Frodo swore, lifting his eyes to his lover as the mattress shifted and Sam moved to kneel beside them. The gardener held out his arms, and Frodo dove into a fierce hug. Merry wrapped his himself about Frodo's other side, pressing his chest against his smooth back. The older hobbit hummed softly as Sam kissed him slow and deep. Then they were shifting -Merry didn't know who was leading, but didn't care and followed until his head was nestled in a pillow and they were lying together, Frodo embraced in the middle by, Merry was sure, the two who loved him most in the whole of the Shire.

It was a long time before the gentle rocking between them turned into something more. Frodo let out a breathless cry, and hooked his leg over Sam's hip, dragging himself in closer to his lover's body. Sam responded by sliding his hand down his back and cupping his backside so that when Frodo groped for Merry leg, pulling it up over his own hip, the Brandybuck found his arousal pressed against the back of Sam's hand.

There was a pause, in which Merry and Sam both raised their heads, eyes meeting over the top of Frodo's dark curls. Then Sam slowly turned his hand over.

Merry gasped, jerking compulsively into his hot, callused palm, eyes fluttering half-closed. Sam grunted approval and returned his attention to whatever it was that Frodo was doing.

"Sam," his cousin's voice was distant to Merry's ears as he pushed against the gardener's hand. Oh, the way his curling fingers were brushing his sack was entirely too... nice...

"Sam, I don't want to wait anymore."

"All right love, all right."

And before Merry knew what was happening, Sam was drawing away, rolling towards the edge of the bed, and the Brandybuck grieved the loss of his rough palm until he suddenly found himself tipped onto his back by a lusty-eyed older cousin. Frodo moved over him on all fours, his naked body hovering enticingly. Merry's hands itched with wanting to explore the shadowy expanse of skin that radiated burning heat above him, but something in Frodo's look told him no; told him to wait, so Merry caressed him with his eyes, gaze raking from the dark and hardened nubs on his chest to the arousal hanging heavy and low between his creamy thighs.

The younger hobbit was barely aware of the scrape of the bedside drawer, then the dip of the mattress as Sam crawled back onto it and towards the cousins. Frodo went perfectly still as Sam moved behind him and Merry watched, enthralled as the gardener gave his lover the full attention of his wonderful hands. Frodo's body stiffened, jerking. Whatever it was that Sam was doing with his fingers, it had Frodo quivering, rocking on his knees and fisting the sheets so that every muscle in his arms was defined, straining and trembling.

"Sam, Sam, please..."

The gardener complied quickly, pausing only to push something aside across the mattress -a glass phial- then his hand was curling under Frodo's belly to steady him -and Merry noticed his fingers glistened in the faint firelight- his other hand was in front, guiding as he slowly slid forward.

"Ah! Sa-am"

Merry watched his cousin's face -his expression changing as fast as rippling water as Sam gradually entered him. Breathing was difficult. But looking away -looking away was impossible. They were perfect. Beautiful and living and here. How, how could anyone think to leave? How, when here and now and this... this was all that the heart, the body needed to survive.

A cry escaped Frodo's lips and his arms bent as he dropped his head onto Merry's chest. The small movement was powerful, and it sucked identical groans from both older hobbits. Frodo's curls tickled Merry's neck; his forehead pressed against his sternum as Sam slowly drew back and began to thrust.

Merry was on fire; the harsh moans Frodo gave, coupled with Sam's breathless grunts, the rocking of the mattress, the heat hovering just above him... and still, still there was no pressure, no contact, no friction where he needed it most.

Reaching down, he curled his fingers about himself, moaning and pushing up into his hand. Frodo struggled to prop himself up on his arms again, lifting his head, and his eyes met Merry's, dark and unfocussed with pleasure and lust. Suddenly, Sam gave a particularly hard thrust, and Frodo's eyes rolled closed. "Saa-" he was slipping, his arms collapsing again, "aaa-" one knee pushing forward, the other one back, "aam!" His arousal, damp at the tip, grazed across Merry's inflamed flesh, sending bolts of lightning charging through the younger hobbit's limbs. Merry lifted both hands to ease him, spreading his thighs to accommodate, and there, Frodo's body lowered onto him, hips fitting together, hot and hard and writhing. Merry jerked and arched up into him, clinging and pulsing and already not much more and, and...

Frodo's scream broke right against Merry's ear as hot liquid soaked him. The Brandybuck's thighs clenched on his hips as Sam gave one last hard push that sent him rocketing over the edge, tensing, floating, breaking...

Spent. Merry was barely aware of his limbs melting into the mattress, the warm weight sinking onto him only pushing him deeper into blissful oblivion.



It felt like hours had passed before he opened his eyes. Frodo had rolled onto his back at his side, and was fast asleep, his features peaceful and content in a nest of tangled curls. Sam was on his other side, leaning over him and gently cleaning his lower belly with a damp cloth.

Slowly, his eyes rose to Merry's and he smiled faintly. The younger hobbit bit his lip as he grinned back, his heart suddenly in his throat. He had always imagined that Sam, by nature, would be a fiercely protective and jealous lover. But here he was, allowing Merry into his bed, and sharing a little piece of his happiness with him. It was the best kind of gift anyone could have offered him.

"Thank you," he suddenly breathed, unsure if Sam would understand why.

The Gamgee lowered his gaze to Frodo's sleeping face briefly before meeting Merry's eyes again and whispering, "No sir. Thank you."

Merry was puzzled. "For what?"

"For bein' as best a friend to Mr. Frodo as you could be. You helped him a lot today. He will realise and thank ye for it sooner or later."

"Oh, anyone could have helped him with the sorting and cleaning. I just happened to be there," Merry waved him off.

"No sir, it was more than that. He knew you had taken that spoon all along. He was so busy planning how to tease ye best for it, that he didn't have time to think over... anything else."

Merry blinked at him. Oh...

"He will have to think about it eventually, of course," Sam went on sadly, caressing his master's face with his eyes, "but I think that today, he needed nothing more than to know there's still some 'ere as love him. And it was always going to take more than me to show it to him."

A hot tingle suddenly built at the back of Merry's eyes. Silently, he vowed never, ever to stop showing his cousin just how much he loved him.

"So thank you, Mr. Merry," Sam said earnestly. "You've helped me give him a reason to stay."

Fighting tears, Merry reached out and touched the gardener's arm. Before he knew he was doing it, he leaned forward and softly kissed his mouth. "He's always had a reason," he choked softly, "and that reason is you. He is very lucky to have you, Sam Gamgee. And I am lucky to have you both."

Sam was blinking furiously as Merry drew away. He forced a chuckle, "Aye, well, just remember that next time you decide to stick a teaspoon in your breeches, sir, cos if I don' tell Ms Lobelia on you, I'll be coming to fetch it out meself."


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