Old Winyards

Chapter: Sixteen
Pairing: Frodo/Sam
Authors: Thuri and Catherine
Rating: E (Explicit material; not suitable for those under eighteen or of sensitive dispositions.)
Warnings: Violence, including an element that should be considered non-consensual; Language; Sexual situations; Lots of angst.
Summary: Missteps and misunderstandings lead to a devastating revelation and greater clarity.

Author's note: Picks up exactly where Chapter Fifteen left off. Sam reveals something about his past. This is a rough one, folks, and as close to non-con as I will ever write. This chapter has jarred some people, but I am reposting it due to the comments I have received about its deletion.


Frodo collapsed back onto the pillows, and then grinned. "Sam. I'm not allowed to drink wine!"

Sam laughed, forgetting about the spectre of a blood test looming in the near future. "That grape juice orchard's looking better all the time," he said, grinning at Frodo.

"More necessary, too," Frodo agreed.

Sam sighed and took Frodo in his arms. "Ah, love, but at least this is something that'll pass. I'm sorry you've got it, though," he added, moving in for a kiss.

Frodo put his hand up. "Don't kiss me. Mono's called 'kissing disease' for a reason. I can't believe we haven't been more careful."

"Well, now, I reckon we've already passed the point where it'd do any good to worry about that, Frodo," said Sam with a chuckle. "I mean to go on kissing you just as often as I can, especially seeing as how I'm doing the bloody paperwork. Ain't no amount of money in the world as'd get me to do that, but one kiss from you, and, well..." He moved toward Frodo again, but then stopped. "Unless you don't want me kissing you," he said, uncertain.

Frodo blushed. "No, you're right; you've got it by now, too, I'm sure."

Sam captured Frodo's lips in his own, tracing them delicately with his tongue as Frodo opened to him. "Frodo..." he sighed into the kiss. "It'll be worth getting mono if this is how it happens," he murmured, dreamily.

"Wait until you've got it, to say that." But Frodo deepened the kiss.

Sam laid Frodo down on the bed. "Wasn't this about where we were when Daisy invaded?" he asked, thickly.

And the door swung open, "Sam, Dr. Peredhel asked before he left... Oh!"

Daisy ducked as a stray pillow came hurtling at her from Sam's general direction.

"Daisy Bloody Gamgee, if you don't learn to wait, the next thing to fly at you won't be a pillow, and no judge in the world would convict me, neither!"

Frodo collapsed in helpless giggles beneath the covers.

"But Dr. Peredhel–"

"Fuck Dr. Peredhel!" yelled Sam. "Begging your pardon, Frodo," he added, peeking under the covers. "It can bloody well wait!" Sam picked up a book from the nightstand, pointedly admiring its hard cover and significant weight.

"All right, all right, I'm going, then! Don't get your knickers in a twist. That is, if you had any on..." She had nearly latched the door behind her when the book hit it, hard.

Frodo laughed loud and long, breathless and panting before he finished.

Sam sank his face into his hands and moaned. "Can't we just go and live in the Honeymoon Cottage?" he asked, mournfully.

"As long as someone wanted to airlift us in."

"Well, there is a path, of sorts. And anyway, just about anything'd be better than having to kill me sister."

"Which one?" Frodo asked, still giggling.

"Oh, bloody hell!" Sam tried to throw himself under his pillow, only to realize that it was currently lounging cheek by jowl with the book he'd thrown, all the way over by the door. "Bollocks!" he said, burying his face in the mattress and pulling the first thing he could reach over his head.

"Hey!"

"Wha–?"

"That's my arm!"

"Oh." Sam gave Frodo's arm a cursory, blind feel. "So it is. Care to join it?"

"On your head?"

"I wouldn't mind. Really. Of course, it might be a bit hard for you. My head, I mean..." Sam turned over and kissed Frodo's arm. "I should just go get that pillow," he sighed. "That way, I can lock the bloody door."

Frodo nodded solemnly. "You really should."

"Yes, I should," said Sam, with forced resolve. He lay on his back, stroking Frodo's arm. "I'm getting up, now." He nibbled Frodo's forearm.

Frodo pulled his arm away. "Go ahead."

"Oi!" said Sam. "Give that back!" He tugged at Frodo's arm, which was suddenly resistant. "Oh, all right!" he muttered, sliding out of bed and stumping over to the door. "All this for a bloody pillow!" He stooped for the pillow, and hit his head on the door handle on the way up. He hissed and cursed, hand flying to his scalp. He locked the door ferociously.

Frodo sat up. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," growled Sam through clenched teeth. "Sodding bloody door! What's it going to do next? Knacker the family jewels? Let in the enemy horde?"

"Family horde, if anything," Frodo replied, smiling a little. "It'll feel better in a moment. You're not bleeding."

"Enemy, family... Same bloody thing," said Sam sitting on the bed, gingerly. "I know I'm all right love. But maybe I should do the paperwork now, while I'm in the mood to kill something. You heard what the doctor ordered; plenty of rest."

Frodo pouted a little. "Oh..."

"Well, love, if you sleep now, maybe you'll be even stronger in a few hours, and we can do something really interesting," Sam growled, leaning in to nibble his neck. "I feel like I could level that mountain, right now," he said, his eyes brightening.

"Rather you levelled me," Frodo replied, winding his body around Sam's.

"Oh, god!" Sam arched into Frodo. "I'm doomed," he murmured.

Frodo kissed him, very thoroughly, and then pulled away again. "Guess I'd better nap..."

"You bloody tease!" cried Sam, aghast. "Right then, I'll just get to that paperwork--"

Frodo giggled, pleased to make Sam so worked up. "If you want to..."

"Oh, Christ!" Sam slumped. "I'm so confused, I don't know what I want, anymore," he said. "At this rate, I'd probably write on you and bugger the paper."

Frodo laughed aloud. "Oh, I love you."

Sam sighed, defeated. "Then would you mind coming back here? I can't seem to think about anything but how you feel all wrapped around me," he said, reaching for Frodo. "Unless it's me being wrapped 'round you," he added, huskily.

Frodo smiled, and again twined his limbs around Sam's. "Mmm, home."

"Ohh!" moaned Sam, winding himself around and through Frodo as best he could, pressing his cheek into his lover's. "Oh, but how did I manage without you?" he murmured. "Just the feel of you!" He slid parted lips against perfect skin and wound his fingers through Frodo's hair. "You're too bloody much, and I can't never get enough of you." He punctuated his words with kisses, tracing the path from ear to mouth, which he took, slowly, passionately, relishing the heat to be found as they explored each other.

Frodo kissed back, but eventually pulled away. "Sam... I think I may be too tired." He flushed. "I want you, but..." He looked down at his still limp cock. "Nothing's happening."

Sam groaned, involuntarily. "This just ain't our morning, is it?" he said, burying his head against Frodo's shoulder. "Maybe this is God's way of punishing us for not seeing to the paperwork."

"I don't have to come, if you still want to," Frodo offered shyly.

Sam blushed. "I wouldn't want to take advantage of you, love. As much as I'm sorely tempted." He looked at Frodo and licked his lips. "Very sorely," he said, his voice a low rasp.

"Why would it be taking advantage of me?" Frodo asked in surprise.

Sam coloured even more. "I'd just... I'd just be being selfish, wouldn't I? I mean, nobody wants– you wouldn't want to see me..." Sam trailed off.

"Wouldn't want to see you what?" Frodo was truly confused. "Sam, I still want you. Even if I don't come, I'd like to feel you in me..."

"Oh," said Sam, "I thought you meant... Never mind," he said, hiding his burning face against Frodo's chest. "I want to be inside you more'n anything, long as it don't hurt you," he said into Frodo's sternum.

"Wouldn't want to see you what, Sam?" Frodo asked, more gently, rubbing his back now.

Sam pressed his face harder into Frodo's chest. "Ain't nobody'd want to see me come," he managed, "Leastways, not unless it were at the same time as them, or..." He swallowed hard and clamped his mouth shut.

"Sam! Why on earth would you think that?" Frodo sat up, astonished. "I love watching you come!"

Sam found himself bereft of Frodo and unable to hide his face. "I ain't been with no-one like you, before," he said, "and I can't help worrying that... that you're just so lovely that you'd never say... never tell me... that if you had no use for my..."

"Samwise Gamgee, you're beautiful when you come, and I want to see it as often as humanly possible."

Sam threw his arms around Frodo and squeezed him, tightly. "I'm so lucky," he whispered, pressing a kiss to Frodo's shoulder. "Ain't no-one ever said anything like that to me. Not without– without strings" he added, nearly inaudible.

"Strings?" Frodo asked, voice suddenly dangerous.

Sam tensed. "Just… Well, let's just say that their needs always came first. And usually last, as well. And I were brought up to it, you might say. Not that me Dad ever told me I had to serve anyone in… in that way, you understand," he added quickly, as a shadow began to overtake Frodo's face. "Just that, well – it were difficult speaking up to some of those folk, is all…"

Frodo nodded, pulling away further. "Sam. You must promise me to always, always speak up to me."

"I promise," said Sam, quietly, wondering why Frodo had pulled away, wondering what he had done wrong. He shivered, feeling very exposed.

Frodo nodded. "I can't... I can't have sex with you, if you don't," he explained softly. "If you don't trust me, we can't do this."

"Please don't, Frodo!" said Sam, urgently, quietly. "I– I do trust you, more'n anyone I've ever known, outside of my family. It ain't that... It's just... Please don't ask me to be something I ain't. I promised I'd speak up to you, and I will, but it's harder than you could possibly know, and I can't promise to get it right, and if you tell me you won't..." Sam gasped in an involuntary sob. "Then you're starting to sound like the rest of them, and I couldn't bear that," he finished, huddling around himself and wishing he'd just gone to the bloody office, long since.

"Sam..." Frodo sighed. "That's not what I meant. I meant... I have to be able to trust you to speak up, if I'm doing something that will hurt you. Make you uncomfortable. I can't hurt you, Sam. It'd kill me."

Sam seized Frodo's hands and kissed them, holding them tight in his own as he looked into Frodo's eyes. "I promise I'll speak up to you, Frodo-love," he said, "even though you may have to remind me, sometimes, seeing as how I can be a right ninnyhammer at times, like now..." He bent over Frodo's fingers. "I'm sorry for getting it wrong," he said.

Frodo fell into his arms.

Sam cried out and enveloped Frodo, holding him close and burying his face in his neck. "Oh, Frodo! I don't want to lose you, love, not for anything. Not for illness, or family, or the Estate, or anything, but specially not for my own stupidity."

"For mine, either."

"No, love!" said Sam, pulling Frodo tightly to him. "I promise. I'll do the best I can. Just keep a frying pan around to hit me over the head whenever I get it wrong. It always seemed to work for a bit when Daisy used one, anyway..."

Frodo giggled. "Maybe that's why..."

"Oi! That ain't so nice a thing to say!" He cuffed Frodo, very gently. "Even if it is true," he added, ruefully.

"I love you, Sam."

"I love you, Frodo," said Sam, quietly, brushing dark curls from Frodo's face as he leaned to kiss him.

Frodo leaned into the touch. "So... if I haven't ruined everything... would you still like to come?"

"Can't say as I'd mind," said Sam, as his cock jumped at the idea.

Frodo giggled, before kissing him. Then he pulled away, getting on all fours and looking back over his shoulder at Sam. "Wanna play?"

"Would I?" Sam groaned. He knelt up behind Frodo, stroking the long sinews of his back. He bent to kiss his shoulder blades. "Yes, but not like this. Please, Frodo, I– I want to see you, love. Is that all right?"

Frodo sighed internally, but lay down again. "How do you want me?"

Sam swallowed at the shadow that crossed Frodo's eyes. "I've gone and said something stupid, haven't I?" he said, searching Frodo's face.

Frodo shook his head. "No. No, it's not that. It's... Oh Sam..."

"What is it, love?" asked Sam, gently, trying to push away the tension that pricked at him.

"It's..." Frodo sighed. "I'm not sure. But I do want you."

Sam sighed, in turn. "I want you, too, but it seems as if we're reading each other all wrong. I – I don't want to do nothing stupid, but I can't seem to stop, today."

"Me either," Frodo admitted. "Perhaps... I should take a nap?"

"But you don't seem that tired, Frodo," said Sam, "and as much as I feel like going and conquering that mountain in the office, I can't help wondering if there ain't something we need to talk about," he finished, trying hard to keep the nerves out of his voice. "I mean, it might be better not to let whatever it is sit for too long."

Frodo nodded slowly. "I suppose so..."

"Frodo-love," said Sam, reaching for his lover's hand, "the same way you want me to talk to you, I need you to talk to me. God! I sound like a bloody girl, an'all!" But he squeezed Frodo's hand, encouragingly.

Frodo laughed softly. "We both do. Well then. You first."

"Me?" gulped Sam. "But, I thought it was you who was having a problem with me!"

Frodo frowned, and shook his head. "No, Sam. I don't."

"But, well, when I asked if... if I could see you, well, your face went all moody-like, and... well, I thought... Oh, maybe I were wrong and this ain't such a good idea, after all..."

"No, it's not that... I just wanted to do things differently."

"Oh... I'm sorry, then. It's just... Oh, it's so stupid," said Sam, clenching his fist. "Why do I always get like this? Honestly, Frodo, I should've just stood under that hill when it were washed away; saved us all a good bit of bother."

"No!" Frodo sat up. "Sam, I love you. And even if you do get like this... We'll work around it."

"No, we won't!" said Sam, harshly. "It never works that way. I always lose people, and I just hate it! And to think I could lose you–" His last word was a harsh, whispered sob, ripped from him. He sat panting, dry-eyed by force of bitter will. "I'm sorry," he whispered, at last. "There were no call to do that."

Frodo blinked at him. "Sam... I simply meant that we'd find a way for you to talk."

Sam buried his face in his hands, willing himself to be calm. "I'd say I'd just done more than enough talking, for one day," he said, shaking his head and chuffing out a bitter laugh. "I've probably gone and ruined things for a few lifetimes, now." He pulled his hands away enough to look at Frodo. "I just wish I'd known how you felt before – well, a year or three ago," he said gently, the tenderness returning to his voice. "Maybe I would've been better."

"You're perfect for me, Sam."

"I ain't perfect for nobody, love, not me family, not T– for no-one I've been with before, not even me. But I do want to be perfect for you, more'n anything. And – and I'm sorry I disappointed you, earlier. I just wanted... well, we'd had a bit of difficulty, and... Christ, this is ridiculous!" Sam groaned, as he hid his face again.

Frodo was staring at him in complete astonishment. "Sam... I can't follow you. I mean... why are you so upset?"

"I am making rather a fuss, ain't I?" said Sam. He took a deep breath. "It's just that every time I've been with someone, it's been a disaster, is all. And it seems I'm only doing my best to make it happen the faster with you. Is there a sink-hole round here?"

"There's not," Frodo replied, grinning softly. "And you're not going to ruin this. I promise. It won't be a disaster."

"You just tell me that the next time I go off the deep end, then. Better yet, just send me under a nice, cold tap when I get a certain look in my eyes." Sam uncurled his fist and reached tentatively for Frodo's fingers. "I don't get quite this bad too often, Frodo," he said, flushing. He took a deep breath. “Remember when – when you told me to beg?”

Frodo winced. “Yes.”

Sam took another breath. "There's something you should know..." He hesitated and bit his lip, squeezing Frodo's hand for courage. "I didn't tell you the truth when I said I hadn't done anything for a year," he said.

Frodo squeezed back. "What happened, Sam?"

"I haven't done anything for three years, come this Thanksgiving, and that's because the last time I did, the man I was with was holding a gun to me head."

"Holy fuck..."

"It weren't rape," said Sam, quickly. "Leastways, not physically.”

Frodo squeezed his hand and swallowed.

Sam became very still, holding Frodo’s hand absently, his eyes focusing somewhere in the distance as he continued, his voice quiet and steady. “He was insane, though he hadn't seemed that way when we were getting to know each other. We’d been seeing each other for about six months, and I loved him. Not like I love you, but closer than I've been to it before. And he loved me, so he said, and I believed him. I still believe him, really. But that night, Thanksgiving night, we met at his place after we'd had the day with our families, and he seemed strange-like; all moody and tense.

“He were dressed in leather, and I were... Well, I got pretty excited, truth to tell. I'd never tried anything like that, and I wondered what it'd be like, and he seemed to want to show me. And when he were on top of me and I were all tied up, hands and feet, he were going at it, riding me rough-like. And then he told me to beg for it, that he wouldn't let me come if I didn't. He had a look about him that scared me half to death, and I couldn't speak. Next thing I knew, he pulled a gun from the night table. 'Beg, you fucking whore!' he said. Well, I thought it were a sex toy, and so I went along with him and begged, but I were nervous-like, and laughing. And then he blew a hole in the pillow next to me and held the thing to my head and told me I'd be next if I didn't get it right. I did the best I could, and he came and – and so did I, and then..." Sam swallowed, "Then, he kissed me, real tender-like, and told me how good I'd been, that I were the best he'd ever had, and then he put the gun to his own head..." Sam stopped, trembling.

"He... he didn't..."

Sam nodded. "The neighbours called the police and they found us," he said. "I were still tied up, of course, so they knew right away that it weren't me. It came out later that one of his contacts had died of AIDS, so even though we’d always been safe, I kept myself to myself, as it were, for a year before I even thought of getting involved with anyone again. The doctors all told me I were all right after six months, but I didn't want to take no chances with anyone's life. And then, well, I guess you'd say I weren't ready to date again for quite a while. And I became quite familiar with a local therapist's office," he added, with a wry smile.

"Oh god, Sam..." Frodo was shaking, unsure what to say. "I just... I don't... God, Sam..."

"This was why I didn't tell you earlier," said Sam. "It's too bloody much, and nobody should have to listen to this. It's just that sometimes, certain things still hit me in odd ways, and, well... since you're the first person I've been with since, and you've said you want me around for... for a bit, and I went round the bend today, I thought perhaps you should know. I won't blame you, though, if you don't think you can deal with this. It's rather a mindful, isn't it?"

Frodo took Sam in his arms. "It is, but I love you. I'll stay with you, Sam."

Sam let Frodo hold him for a moment, unable to move. He forced himself at last to return Frodo's embrace, and the calm that had come over him as he told the story began to melt away, leaving him shaking uncontrollably, though he didn't weep. "Tell me that again," whispered Sam.

"I'll be with you always, Sam. I love you."

"I love you, Frodo. And I won't bring this in here, ever again. Not if I have anything to say about it. But I think I'd best make an extra appointment with that therapist."

Sam pulled back and looked straight at Frodo for the first time since he'd begun his story. "You should know that it were working here and seeing you most every day that kept me from going completely mental, after that," he said. "It gave me hope, cause I knew I still felt something good inside me. And it helped with what the doctor was saying about Ted."

Frodo nodded slowly. "I'm glad I could help, when I didn't even know... And you know you can tell me anything, Sam, right? But you don't have to tell me more than you're comfortable with." He flushed, dully. "And I'll never tease you into begging again."

"Oh, I don't know as I'd go that far," said Sam, with a smile. "Don't forget I was rather excited with him before things took a bad turn. I... Well, I'd like to hope I can get to that point again," said Sam, flushing. "It'd be a pity to let someone else’s illness ruin a perfectly good fantasy. Though any guns in the future should probably be water pistols..."

"No guns," Frodo said firmly, shivering. "That's... that's too much for me. But being tied up... that I'd like. Someday."

Sam pulled Frodo close. "There, now," he said, "I didn't mean to upset you. And the tying up..." Sam shivered with pleasure. "I'd – I'd actually like it if you did that to me, too. And when I think of you in leather, well... let's just say that certain very pleasant things start happening." He nudged himself against Frodo by way of demonstration.

Frodo giggled, softly, and hugged him close. "I love you."

"I love you, too," said Sam. "And to prove it, I'm going to go into the office and murder the mountain in there before it can grow any further. Maybe that way, I'll earn enough to visit that therapist again," he grumbled. "Bloody fee's probably gone up again, too... Or maybe, I won't even need to see him, if I take my aggression out on some government forms," he added, brightly.

Frodo laughed again, with a sharp ring. "Oh Sam..."

Sam cupped Frodo's face, calming them both. "My dearest Frodo," he said, "please talk to whoever you need to about this. I don't want to tell you all about such a horrible thing only to make you keep it all to yourself. And don't be afraid to talk to me about it, neither, if you want. Just because I ain't needing to talk about it don't mean I ain't willing."

Frodo smiled softly. "Thank you, Sam. I'll... I'll need to, later, I think."

Sam kissed Frodo, with great tenderness. "You know where I'll be, once you don't need to be alone," he said, softly. "Now, just remind me to put on some clothes so's I don't scare the girls."

"No way. Prefer you bare."

Sam pulled Frodo closer and deepened the kiss, hungrily. "Well, that's good, then, cause I prefer us both bare," he said with a growl. "With the occasional touch of leather," he added, and then he pulled away to dress.

Frodo faked a swoon.

"Shouldn't you have that condition checked? I can always arrange for Dr. Peredhel to come take some more blood," said Sam, zipping up his trousers.

Frodo propped himself up on his elbows. "What condition is that?"

"That's better. I was afraid you were suffering from 'Gone With the Wind'-itis, what with you seeming to faint like that," said Sam. "I love you, but if you turn into Miss Scarlet, I'll be leaving for the Isle of Mann on the next available transportation..."

Frodo grinned evilly, but decided to keep his Southern Belle impersonations for another day.

"Oh, Christ!" muttered Sam. "I just know I should've kept me mouth shut." With that, he blew Frodo a kiss before anything worse could happen, and beat a hasty retreat for the refuge of the office.

Frodo curled up around a pillow. “Oh, my Sam,” he whispered, his knuckles turning white.