West of the Moon
A Tolkien Fanfiction Archive
Elf Kiss Puree
Young Sam develops a troublesome problem during a mushroom hunt with Frodo. Frodo helps him...ahem...handle things.
Author: Glory Underhill
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I have stolen Professor Tolkien's wonderful characters and debauched them. I would be too shamed to accept any payment for my pervy hobbit fantasies. I know little to nothing about wild mushrooms and freely admit that the breed of mushroom discussed in this story is completely an invention of my twisted mind free from any reality or research.
(Sam 22, Frodo 34)
"It's a long way to come for mushrooms, sir," Sam said as he flopped down onto the mossy patch of ground that would eventually be their campsite.
Frodo grinned at him wickedly. He'd driven the younger lad hard this day, trying to reach the secluded spot before nightfall. It was fully dusk now and for all Sam's usual strength and endurance, he was tired from the brisk pace Frodo had set. "Yes, but these are exceptional mushrooms, my Sam." Frodo said as he dropped his pack by his young friend. "You rest yourself. I'll gather wood."
Sam took a deep breath and rose, "No sir, I'll fetch the wood." Frodo just pushed him back to the ground. The lad was tired but he'd fetch and carry until the curls on his feet fell off if Frodo didn't stop him from it. "You get us unpacked. I won't be long."
He wasn't and didn't have to go far to find enough fallen wood to feed the fire well into first breakfast. By the time Frodo had the fire going, Sam had several neat piles of chopped vegetables and herbs on his bit of cutting board to go with the dried stew meat that would make their dinner. While Sam cooked, Frodo set up the little canvas tent he'd brought. It had been one of many gifts given him by Bilbo over the years and he treasured it. Most of his trips he brought it but only in case of rain, as he preferred sleeping under the stars at night. But mushroom hunting was an autumn event and the possibility of rain as well as nightly chill was enough to earn the little tent a place in his pack.
It was only big enough for two hobbits to lie side by side. The poles that held up the 'roof' though, were a source of endless amazement for Frodo, even though he'd had the thing half a dozen years. They were metal, Dwarvish make, and they extended! That was the part he found so clever. When folded up, they were no longer than a kitchen spoon, but pull one end and the two thin poles grew to nearly three feet. A hobbit could almost stand in the tent when it was up. One end of each pole was sharpened and they were held in their extended position by a small pin that hung from each by a chain.
"You've brought along your tent?" Sam asked as he stirred the stew. It was already starting to smell fantastic.
"Yes," Frodo said with a grunt as he drove the sharpened end into the ground. "I thought it would be warmer and protect us from rain should it come. I waxed it just yesterday. It should be fully water proof."
Frodo loved his autumn mushroom hunts and all the moreso when Sam agreed to come, which was most times. This year he'd decided to hunt a rare strain known as "Elf Kissed" for the fungus had little star-shaped spots all over it's crown. They were particularly rich and flavorful and Frodo had hunted them in the woodlands beyond the Woody End with his father when he was a child. The mushrooms that Farmer Maggot grew were a domestic strain, but lacked the rich, deep taste of the wild variety, even though they were delicious in their own right. Frodo Baggins had never met a mushroom he didn't like.
They were very delicious raw and sautéed in butter they were divine, but Frodo's favorite way to eat the wonderful treats was to blanch them quick in boiling water then mash them into a puree with onion, garlic, salt and pepper. Frodo felt his heart beat quicken as he thought of this delight spread over the crusty rye bread he had in his pack.
When he'd finished stretching the canvas tight and setting in the second pole, Frodo secured the loops along the side with metal pegs driven into the ground with a small mallet. With that done, he knelt in the opening as this was the best way to spread out their bed rolls. He lifted up on his knees to reach in a bit further without getting his dirty feet inside.
Sam almost laughed at the sight of Frodo's round tush sticking out from between the flaps of the tent, that is, until it began to wiggle around as he worked. Then the young hobbit felt his mouth go dry and his heartbeat quicken. He looked away quickly and shifted position. He wasn't sure why, but this had been happening quite a lot lately. They'd be doing something together, most anything, and Sam's blood would just get an idea to rush to his midsection, setting off fields of butterflies to frolic in his belly. And then there was those...swellings. It had happened just yesterday morning, when Mr. Frodo leaned over Sam to reach a jar of honey in the pantry while they were packing for this very trip. Just the feel of having Mr. Frodo's chest pressed right up against his had set his heart to a pony's gallop and everything between his legs seemed to swell up near painfully; much as it was doing now with Frodo's round rump waggling about so enticingly.
Frodo noticed another tent that Sam had erected himself almost as soon as he sat down beside the young hobbit. He had to hide his grin so as not to cause Sam any embarrassment. He was at the right age for things to come alive down there and Frodo found himself wondering what the lad was thinking of that had him so aroused. And he was very aroused by the look of things, not to mention quite handsomely blessed by the Lady Mother as well. Frodo smiled at him gently when Sam handed him a bowl of steaming stew. He tried to concentrate on the food and not the activity stirring in his own breeches.
Sam had been his dearest friend for well over ten years now. He'd watched the lad grow up and they had shared many adventures together in that time, both from traveling the Shire and those they found in books. There was no other hobbit in all the Shire like Sam. He had what the Gaffer sometimes called 'unwholesome' interests, such as wanting to learn to read and adoring tales of elves. As these were the same loves Frodo held, it stood to reason they were closer to one another than most hobbits could reckon between a working class lad and his young master. Being 'odd' had drawn them together.
And then there was Sam's fussing over him. Merry often found it annoying, but to Frodo...to Frodo it was beyond endearing even if he stubbornly resisted Sam's efforts at times. He'd never told anyone, but Sam's fret and worry over him made him feel loved. Frodo knew precisely why as well. It reminded him of his mother.
She'd lost two pregnancies before he'd come along and being born nearly a month early, he'd been frail as a babe. So Primula had become overly protective, fussing and fretting over every cold or bruise like it was potentially fatal. Only his father's tender comforts soothed her. Frodo's eyes clouded into memory as he stared into his stew.
"Is it to your liking, Mr. Frodo?"
"Yes, Sam," he said dreamily, "it is wonderful...as are you."
Sam blushed and butterflies danced in his belly again.
~*~
Once supper was done, the evening's chill settled in. Frodo and Sam sat close together by the fire, huddled in their cloaks. "We should turn in if we're to get an early start on the morrow," Frodo said softly, enjoying the sound of the breeze rattling the few remaining leaves in the trees.
Kneeling on his bedroll in the tent, Sam spread his cloak out over the woolen blankets he'd brought. There wasn't room in his pack for more than two thin ones. He was glad to see Frodo doing the same on his side.
Frodo could not help but notice that Sam's...situation was standing straight out from his waist, causing the most pleasant crinkles in his trousers. He almost caught Frodo staring, but he pulled his eyes away just before Sam turned to him again. "This tent does a right fine job of turning that chill breeze away."
Frodo had to stifle his startled laughter in a feigned cough. "Yes, yes it does."
Thankfully, Sam didn't worry over this any more than to ask, "Too much fire smoke?"
"I think so," Frodo smiled sliding into his cozy nest of covers. When Sam was settled in too, he blew out the candle in the little lantern he always brought on his rambles. Not more than a tin cylinder poked through with holes, but it served to both protect the flame and let off a bit of light. Now in complete dark, Frodo began to doze.
Sam lay still until he heard Frodo's breathing drop and even out. Then he began to turn this way and that hoping to find a comfortable position despite his uncomfortable state. If he were abed at home, he'd just rub it. That always fixed it up so he could sleep, but it made his breathing hitch and sometimes he even moaned when he did it and that wouldn't do with Mr. Frodo so near. Sam tossed and turned several more times.
Frodo had not forgotten his tweens and his sympathy for Sam's plight was deeply sincere. He tried to give Sam the illusion that he was sleeping, so that the lad might feel free to find his relief. But he continued to toss and turn restlessly. Now there was only one solution to the problem. Well, that wasn't precisely true, there was more than one, but considering the hobbit Sam was, he'd never relieve himself in such a way with Frodo beside him. When Sam turned his back again, Frodo seized the opportunity. "Here now," he said softly drawing Sam backwards against him as he wiggled one arm under Sam's neck. "Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked as Frodo arranged the covers so that they both were under all the blankets and cloaks.
Frodo nestled Sam in his arms, pressed Sam's back to his chest, then slowly slipped his palm over Sam's hip. "Let me ease you," he whispered seductively behind Sam's ear letting the warmth of his breath tingle there purposefully as his fingers worked loose the buttons of Sam's trousers. Sam was still as stone. "I remember this, dear. Don't worry," he soothed as he slowly untied the lace of Sam's underclothes. "A hobbit your age can't help but stiffen whenever the wind blows. Let me help you, so we both may find sleep."
All the breath rushed from Sam's lungs when Frodo's hand closed around him. It was like silk, it was; squeezing, pumping silk. Sam could not stop his hips from lunging into his gentle grip, and Frodo tightened then matching Sam's urgent motions. When he felt Frodo's tongue trace down the edge of his ear as his other hand slipped into Sam's shirt to dazzle and caress the tender skin there, Sam was utterly undone. He shattered into a million bits of pure bliss that melted into a panting puddle cradled in Frodo's arms.
"There now," Frodo whispered as he kissed Sam's neck. "Better?"
Sam could feel the solid steel of Frodo's erection pressed against his backside and he was filled with guilt for finding his relief when he'd done naught for his master. "I...I...won't feel right, until I've helped you along as well."
Frodo chuckled softly, his hand still caressed Sam's softening bits lazily. "No need, dear, although guiding your pleasure was quite...stimulating."
"Oh, but sir..." Sam rolled toward Frodo with pleading in his eyes. The tent was very dim, but those brown pools seemed to glow with golden light. "I so want to. I want to make you feel like that too!"
Frodo took a moment to study Sam's sincere expression. "Please, Mr. Frodo," he whispered.
"Very well then, Sam...but...I want something...more."
Sam's eyes rounded as if he'd just received his heart's wish. "Whatever you want, Mr. Frodo," the quiver in his voice only served to harden Frodo more. He sat up, turning Sam on his back as he did. He propped Sam's head up using both of their pillow rolls then gingerly straddled Sam's chest. Sam's eyes continued to glow with desire and he licked his lips unconsciously. Frodo unbuttoned his breeches slowly with one hand while caressing Sam's lips with the other. Almost as if he had grown an insatiable appetite for hobbit fingers, Sam nibbled and sucked at his fingertips hungrily.
'Oh,' Frodo thought at the feel of it, 'this is going to be divine.'
He drew himself out of his clothes stroking slowly. "You're sure, Sam?"
Sam's eyes were fixed on Frodo's swelling, like a hobbit lad lusting for a fresh-baked pie. He nodded and licked his lips again. Frodo offered him the weeping tip which Sam promptly drew between his thick, soft lips. Frodo's breath caught on the rush of pleasure as Sam's tongue danced over the sensitive skin. Lifting his head slightly, Sam gave a fearsome suck at the same moment grabbing Frodo's round rump with both hands to press him in. Frodo had never had such an enthusiastic lover.
It was all Frodo could manage to stay up on his knees and not slam himself into the hot, silken bliss of Sam's willing mouth. He tried to maintain control but at such moments, a hobbit's hips have a mind of their own. Slowly as possible he began pumping in and out of Sam's sweet lips.
Sam suckled like a babe at the breast, swirling his tongue so that Frodo soon lost himself. He let his hips have their will, clenching his hands around Sam's head he pressed himself in quickening strokes until he cried out his bliss and pulsed his want deep into Sam's throat. For a long while he floated on the waves of pleasure as Sam continued to suck and swirl. Frodo was not an inexperienced hobbit, but this was the finest experience of this sort he'd ever known. 'Sam's mouth must be growing tired,' he thought, slowing drawing himself back.
Sam gave a disappointed moan that tickled sweetly in Frodo's heart. "I assure you, dearest, you could not have enjoyed that half as much as I." Frodo flopped limp onto his side of the tent. Sam covered him up and nestled in close nuzzling Frodo's ear and pressing his renewed ardor against Frodo's thigh. "Oh, but I did," he growled softly pushing with his hips.
Frodo chuckled breathlessly, "I thought I was fixing that problem."
Sam chuckled with him, "Aye and rightly you did, but just woke it up again after is all."
Frodo turned his head and kissed Sam soundly. Sam breathed in sharp, not expecting the deep probing of Frodo's tongue. Frodo laughed again when he pulled out of the kiss, for Sam had drawn him into his arms, rubbing his groin to Frodo's with growing excitement. "I thought it was you with an uncomfortable problem, but I now think it must be me. I've a beautiful and lusty hobbit in my arms and barely the strength to do anything with him for what he has just done to me."
Sam blushed lowering his gaze. "I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo...it's...it's just that I've wanted...I mean, I dream of you and such and...well..."
Frodo smoothed his palm over Sam's cheek, "You dream of me...like this?"
Sam nodded, but did not meet Frodo's charmed gaze. It startled Sam when Frodo sat up abruptly. He watched his master hastily unbutton his shirt. "Get undressed, love. I want to lie here with you skin to skin." Sam quickly complied, almost tearing free his shirt buttons in the process. But soon enough he was tangled in Frodo's embrace again, their tongues meeting in a dance more complex and beautiful than the Springle Ring. Just when both their hearts were going at a fine gallop, Frodo rolled, pulling Sam on top of him. There was an awkward moment as they situated themselves. Frodo trying to close his legs and simultaneously nudge Sam's apart. He managed his goal then leaned up to capture Sam's sweet lips again.
Sam rubbed his aching flesh over the velvet steel of Frodo's and almost melted from the bliss. "Up under," Frodo panted, "press yourself between my legs." Sam wasn't sure what he meant, so Frodo reached down to guide Sam into the heated crevice between Frodo's tightly clenched thighs. Sam gave a wanton groan and began to thrust. Slow at first, but when he learned the certain motion that would cause Frodo to arch and moan, he repeated it quicker. Soon they were panting and bucking wildly together, moaning and clawing at each other as if they might wish to simply merge into one hobbit. When Frodo clenched and cried out, Sam followed him immediately, the sound of his pleasure singing in Sam's blood like the song of the stars. He rode the last of the waves of his bliss then they both collapsed into sated slumber.
~*~
"Did 'ee bring any back with 'ee, lads?" Called the Gaffer with a wave as they arrived home. Frodo couldn't help but grin. For the little amount of time they'd spent actually hunting mushrooms on the four-day trip they had gathered quite a bounty. But when Frodo's favored 'Elf Kiss Puree' was smeared all over Sam's chest rather than on his crusty rye, there'd been very little left of the fungal treasures. Sam blushed clear to his ear tips, "Aye, Pa, we managed to find a few."
Frodo could barely contain his laughter and clapped Sam on the back companionably. He leaned in close to whisper so the Gaffer wouldn't hear, "Don't supposed you'll find yourself able to watch your father eat them without turning that lovely shade of red, my dear." Sam just blushed harder and this time, Frodo didn't try to keep the laugh in. He patted Sam on the back and waved to the Gaffer as he turned toward the Hill. "See you tomorrow, Sam?"
"Aye, sir, tomorrow it is," he smiled at Frodo, who's eyes held every promise of delight Sam ever wished for. Dreams of star-kissed mushrooms now chief among said wishes.
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