Lord of the Rings Frodo/Sam NC-17
"Mr. Frodo?" Sam poked his head into the fine bedroom Elrond had assigned his master, who was tossing and moaning, tangling himself in eiderdown. "Mr. Frodo, you're having another nightmare, sir."
Mr. Frodo didn't seem to hear. He never did when his dreams turned to horrors. As no one had more right, what with what they've seen and done and what they were going to do, but it hurt to see - hurt his heart.
Sam could not take the sight more. He told himself Mr. Frodo needed him, and this was the only thing he could rightly do. He climbed into the bed, straightening the sweaty sheets and covers, and took Mr. Frodo in his arms, same as he'd done many a time for little brothers and sisters after his mother left them.
Mr. Frodo quieted as soon as Sam held him. "That's it, me dear. Your Sam is here for you. I'll not let them get you." He stroked Frodo's damp hair off his forehead, wishing he was speaking the truth. He did know he'd never leave Frodo's side and that he'd die for him. "Shh. Just rest, sir."
Instead, Frodo wrapped his arms - still too thin - around Sam. "Thank you. Will you stay? Please?"
"As long as you need me, sir."
"That could be forever." Frodo smiled in the moonlight.
"If you want, sir." His heart jumped in his chest so hard he wondered if Frodo felt it. He couldn't help smiling, neither, even if forever didn't last past this journey.
Frodo looked at him with such wonder in his eyes as Sam would have thought only Elves and such could cause, not him. And then Frodo touched his face and no one's hands were ever so gentle. Sam shivered.
Then Frodo kissed him and Sam couldn't think no more except as how right it felt and how he didn't know this was what he wanted.
To his horror, Frodo pulled away. "Sam, I'm so sorry. Can you forgive me? I...I know you aren't like me. That you like the lasses. That I've no right to force myself on you like that."
"Mr. Frodo, no! You would never...it's not just you. It's...please don't make me go, sir. Please." He couldn't bear that thought.
"Sam, you don't know what you're asking me."
"Yes, sir. I do."
And wondering at his courage, Sam took Frodo's hand and pressed it between his legs, where his arousal, barely covered by his nightshirt, still proved his desire. "Aye, I like the lasses, Mr. Frodo, but a lad or two has caught my eye. And you're more beautiful to me than anyone."
He pulled Frodo to himself and joined him in kisses more passionate than he could have thought his quiet master had in him.
And then Sam pulled off their nightshirts and brought their bodies together, hardness against hardness, mouths eating each other. Years of wanting that Sam didn't know he had made it quick, but Frodo wasn't strong so quick was good.
And for all it was fast it was more than he would have dreamed if he'd dreamed of this. The feeling ran through him as Frodo gasped and shuddered in his arms. Even now, he was quiet, and more when they both finished.
Sam got a cloth and water and cleaned them both off as best he could, and got nightshirts on them both before climbing back in to gather his dear Frodo in his arms. Frodo slept again. Sam watched until morning.