Seven Heavenly Virtues VI:
Orithain & Rina
~ Temperance: moderation and restraint; self-mastery ~
After a morning spent pouring over Elvish lore, Frodo raised
his head from his book and looked across at Sam, who was puttering around
putting their hole to rights. Technically Bag End belonged to Frodo, but
with the help of Samís father, they lived together with no one the wiser.
Frodoís gaze rested fondly on the tousled, pale brown
curls, and he remembered how they had looked against his pillow that morning
as he watched Sam sleep. He wanted to reach out now and run his fingers
through Samís hair, disordering it further, but he reminded himself that
he had to think before allowing himself to give in to such impulses or
someday he would do it where it would get them in trouble.
As if sensing Frodoís gaze on him, Sam looked over, one
hand holding a dusting rag, the other the small statue heíd picked up to
clean. "Something I can get for you, Mister Frodo?" he asked.
Frodo licked his lips, blue eyes wide and fixed on Sam.
"I wish I could paint," he murmured, imagining an image of Sam
that would be for him alone, but he knew that he would always be able to
call up an image of his lover.
"Mister Frodo?" Sam asked, his brow furrowing in
confusion. "What would you want to be paintiní?"
"You of course," Frodo replied, knowing that Sam
would blush and looking forward to it.
Sam immediately turned bright red, and his eyes widened.
"Me, Mister Frodo? Now then, if you could paint, you should be makiní
pictures of pretty things and whatnot."
"I cannot imagine anything I would rather look at than
you, Sam," Frodo murmured, rising to his feet and moving across the
room to the other Hobbit.
About to protest this remark, Sam looked up, meeting Frodoís
blue eyes, and stopped, almost immediately lost in their depths. Frodo
reached him and rested a hand on his cheek, and he turned his face into the
caress, fumbling to set down the statue lest he drop and break it.
"I could spend the entire day just enjoying you,"
Frodo breathed, "looking, touching, tasting. How did I get so lucky as
to have you, my Sam?"
"Itís me whoís the lucky one," Sam muttered,
catching Frodoís hand and pressing a kiss against his palm. "I tell
myself that every morniní, ĎSamwise Gamgee, youíre the luckiest Hobbit
in the Shire and donít you go forgettiní it.í" He was about to
say more when there was a strident knocking at the door. "Iíll be
gettingí that, Mister Frodo," he said quickly, giving a small shake
as he reminded himself to behave in front of guests.
"Where is that Frodo?" a sharp voice demanded the
moment he opened the door, and Sam winced at seeing the sour visage of
Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. "I want a word with him!"
Frodo dove headlong over the back of a sofa, hoping his
horrid cousin hadnít seen him and that Sam would manage to lie and tell
her he was out. He held his breath, waiting for the shriek that would tell
him that she had seen him, and slowly let it out in a silent sigh of relief
when it didnít happen.
"Where is that layabout Hobbit, Master Gamgee?"
Lobelia demanded shrilly. "Lazing about in bed in what should be my
"Not at all, Missus Lobelia," Sam answered, trying
to block the door and getting an elbow in his ribs for his trouble when she
pushed past him. "Heís..." He stopped when she let out a cry at
seeing Frodo. "... out."
"There you are, Frodo Baggins! I want to know why you
havenít answered my invitation!"
Frodoíd known he shouldnít try to peek around the sofa
to see what Lobelia was doing, but heíd done it anyway, and now he was
caught. He held in his sigh as he rose to his feet. "Good day, Lobelia.
I had not yet answered because I wasnít sure if I was going to have to be
away that day. Now I know, and I shall have to regretfully decline. Now, if
that was all?" He tried to steer her to the door, hoping to be rid of
Sam stepped back out of the way when Lobelia dug in her
heels, halting her forward progress. "And whatís this? Not even a cup
of tea to offer me? After I came all this way too..."
"I donít recall inviting you, Lobelia," Frodo
replied shortly. Sheíd caught him once that way, and heíd learned his
lesson. "Iím very busy. Perhaps we can visit another time..." He
jarred her loose and managed to get her to the door.
"When?" she asked quickly.
"Iíll send you a letter!" Frodo shut the door
quickly, ignoring her squawk of outrage, and locked it. "Quick,"
he hissed at Sam, "close all the shutters!"
Samís eyes were wide, but he did as Frodo ordered.
"Make sure theyíre all shut!" Frodo
insisted as he ran toward the next room, intent upon making sure that
Lobelia was completely shut out. "That woman... Iím sure sheís why
Bilbo left the Shire."
"I canít disagree with you there, love," Sam
called from where he was checking the shutters in the other room. "That
womanís a - a, well, I canít think of what to call her."
"I can but I donít want to make you blush!"
Relieved to find that they were securely tucked into their burrow, Frodo
came out of the room and encountered Sam in the hall.
"Mr. Frodo!" Sam exclaimed, turning pink at just
the thought of what Frodo might be thinking of calling his cousin.
"This feels so odd: locked up in Bag End like a couple of
"Think of it as a vacation from nosy relatives,"
Frodo suggested, sliding his arms around Samís waist. "Weíre snug
in here, together, and not even Merry and Pippin can disturb us just
Sam brightened at that before frowning and looking at the
front door. "They donít have a key, do they?"
"Certainly not! Weíd never have a bite of food left
in the larder if they did."
"A very good point." Sam grinned and reached out
to catch Frodoís hands, pulling him in for a kiss. "So what should we
do with this time alone?"
"I think we should check how sturdy the bed is,"
Frodo suggested, smiling widely even as Samís lips covered his.
"Well, if Iím under you, if the bed collapses, you
wonít get hurt," Sam suggested.
Frodo chuckled. "Someday, my Sam, Iím going to
distract you enough for you to stop worrying about my safety. In fact, I
think thatís going to be my goal for the night. Weíve restrained
ourselves in front of every inhabitant of the Shire. Itís time to forget
temperance and enjoy ourselves!" He dragged Sam into the bedroom and
tumbled them onto the bed.
Sam blinked, then smiled up at Frodo, working his hands
under the other Hobbitís shirt to stroke his back. "That sounds like
a fine idea, Frodo."
"An excellent beginning." Frodo sat up long enough
to pull his shirt over his head, dropping it heedlessly to the floor where
the pale linen puddled against the rich colors of the rug at the side of the
bed, neither Hobbit noticing or caring. Frodo tugged Samís shirt free of
his trousers and leaned over to press a kiss to Samís belly.
Unable to help himself, Sam giggled, squirming beneath Frodo
even as he tangled the fingers of one hand into his dark hair.
Frodo smiled, loving that seldom heard sound. He nibbled
gently on the soft skin, tongue following and tasting Sam as he pushed the
shirt higher and higher.
"Frodo..." Samís laughter acquired a hungry
sound, and he reached for his shirt, tugging it over his head, his arms
becoming trapped in the sturdy fabric as he did so.
Catching sight of Samís difficulty, rather than helping
him, Frodo caught hold of the tangled shirt and pressed it to the bed over
Samís head, restraining his lover. He licked his lips as he stared down,
hips rocking very lightly against Samís, his head lowering to scrape his
teeth over a hardening nipple.
"Frodo!" Now Sam almost shouted, and he bucked
upward, his hardening shaft rubbing against Frodoís as he writhed.
Frodo liked that reaction. A lot. He treated the other
nipple the same way, still restraining Sam with his shirt. "You taste
good," he whispered against Sam, tongue lightly tracing patterns on his
flesh. "Better than anything."
Sam could only whimper as Frodo teased him, but he did
manage to wrap a leg around Frodoís, rubbing his calf against the other
Gradually sliding back down, Frodo demonstrated his ability
to unfasten buttons with his teeth, slowly freeing Sam from his pants. He
let his teeth graze the rigid shaft, but he didnít stop despite the almost
desperate sounds Sam was making.
"Mister Frodo, please!" Sam whined, tearing
his hands free of his shirt and reaching for Frodo, stopping himself before
he dragged Frodoís mouth down to his aching erection.
Frodo raised lust-filled eyes to meet Samís. "Take
what you want," he whispered, moist breath flowing over Samís hard
cock, teasing the sensitive head.
Samís eyes widened, and he froze, swallowing hard before
threading his fingers through Frodoís curls. "Want to feel you,"
he rasped, guiding Frodo to his shaft and moaning when he felt Frodoís
hot, wet tongue drag over his flesh.
Frodo suckled hungrily on the tip, moaning as he tasted
another spurt of fluid. He slowly lowered his head, taking Sam deeper and
deeper, and his fist curled around the base, stroking.
"Frodo - oh sweet..." Samís fingers tightened on
Frodoís scalp, and he thrust upward, crying out as he came.
Frodo drank him down eagerly, not stopping until he had
every drop and Sam was whimpering and trying to squirm away. Only then did
he slide up Samís body to kiss him hungrily, thrusting against him.
Once the kiss broke, Sam stared up at Frodo with unfocussed
eyes. "Now you take what you want," he breathed, wrapping his
other leg around Frodoís as well.
"You, always you." Frodo settled on his knees, one
hand fumbling on the nightstand for the jar of oil they kept there. He slid
two fingers into Sam, knowing he wasnít going to be able to wait much
Sam cried out and clutched at Frodoís arms. Releasing
them, he spilled some oil into his hand and stroked it over Frodoís
erection, humming with pleasure at the thought of it inside him.
A strangled moan escaped Frodo as he gritted his teeth,
fighting not to come from the touch of Samís hand on him. "Need to be
in you," he rasped, eyes staring down at Sam almost wildly.
"Yes, now!" Sam all but ordered, bringing his legs
up around Frodoís waist and pulling him inward.
Feeling himself sink into Samís yielding body wrenched a
heartfelt groan from Frodo. His eyes closed for a moment as he let himself
revel in the sensations before opening again so he could watch Sam, wanting
the connection of their gazes as well.
Sam smiled and shifted, rocking up and tightening his ass
down around Frodoís shaft as they began to move together, lost in each
"Love you," Frodo panted over and over, hips
driving back and forth, unable to stop. He caught hold of Samís hands,
lacing their fingers together, and he clung desperately as they moved, his
climax drawing closer.
"Yes," Sam gasped, closing his fingers around
Frodoís hands and kissing him hungrily.
Frodo cried out, the noise muffled by Samís mouth, and he
drove deep a final time and stilled as he came, shuddering against Sam.
Sam sighed, nuzzling his face against Frodoís until he
calmed, then kissing him again. "Love you so much," he whispered.
"I love you too," Frodo replied, sprawling atop
Sam and cuddling close, loving the feeling of Samís arms around him.
"I could stay right here forever."
"Mmm, that sounds lovely, but we do have other
obligations; think of the state the gardens would be in if I never got
outside to tend them!"
"But weíd be in here so we wouldnít see them,"
Frodo pointed out logically.
"But the Gaffer would and think of what heíd say!
Your beautiful gardens..." Sam moaned piteously.
Laughing, Frodo shook his head. "Only you, Sam, could
think of your father at a time like this!"
"At a..." Sam blanched. "I wasnít thinking
of him like that!"
"Sam!" Frodo half laughed, half yelped. "I
didnít mean that! I just meant... Never mind." He shook his
head, chuckling, and pulled Sam into a kiss intended to make them both
forget the Gaffer.
Sam sighed and nuzzled Frodoís neck, breathing in his
clean scent. "What was that, Mr. Frodo?" he asked, sounding
"Nothing at all," Frodo murmured, pulling Sam
closer with a contented little sigh.