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Claimed	By : Aruraya Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 1054 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Title: Claimed
Author: Allaya Cooks, aka Aruraya
Author�s E-mail: ghettogirl7@earthlink.net
Pairing: Frodo/Sam,
with a hint of Frodo/Merry for flavor.
Rating: NC-17. Yes,
ladies and gentlemen, it�s a lemon.
Archiving: I�ll say
yes to anything. *g* Just e-mail me to
let me know where you put it.
Summary: Frodo tries
to cope with the power of the Ring and his love for Sam, but who will he
hurt? (The story is better than the
summary.)
Disclaimer: I don�t
own Lord of the Rings or any related material.
Didn�t we go through this?
No? Lawyer? What lawyer?
That�s why I ended up in jail?
Copyright infringement? What�s
that? Oh... By the way, I borrowed a line from an
absolutely fantastic fic, Histories Asunder.
Go read it (after you read this!)
Sorry, Amanda, but I did give you a shameless plug for it!
Warning:
Non-consensual sexual situations (for some reason, this sounds better
than rape.)
Author�s Note: My
first attempt at writing sex or anything with a higher rating that PG-13. I worked really hard on this, so I�d like to
know what you think. ^_^ All reviews and comments are welcome. Enjoy!

*blah*- stuff that was supposed to be italicized.

Claimed
by: Allaya Cooks, aka
Aruraya

~*~

The Ring
would give me power. I know it as well
and as clear as I know of my love for my dear Sam. My faithful Sam, trudging tirelessly beside
me, stopping to rest only when he was sure that I was cared for. And even with all that I have, I want more than
I could ever ask of him. Already he has
done so much. It would not be fair to
tell him how often have I looked upon his sleeping face, bathed by moonlight,
and felt lost in a desire that I once felt only for the Ring. The Ring understands my plight, the sorrow of
unrequited love. It helps me as a friend
would, shows me that I don�t have to be so lonely, that it doesn�t always have
to be like this. It shows me a love of a
kind I thought I could never have with my Sam, and all I have to do is slip it on
and claim its power for my own. If I
wanted, I could make him love me.

~*~

It is the high
point of the day.
The sun twinkles merrily, unforgivably cheerful and bright as Sam and I
happen upon a little pool. It is
ensconced in a clearing, surrounded on all sides by tall, green trees. The air is full of mist, and the warm vapor
settles on our faces and clings to our clothes, making them heavy, damp, and
uncomfortable. Though I am in no mood to
see it, the clearing is a lovely place.
Sam and I walk towards the small pool and I gaze into it,
entranced. Water has always had the
power to charm me.
The pool is
not too deep, about waist high, and so clear I can see all the way to the
smooth rocks at the bottom. Sam kneels
and cautiously puts a hand into the water.
�Warm,� he says. He swishes his
hands around in the calm water. �Very
warm.� He carefully brings a drop to his
tongue, and makes a face. �Doesn�t taste
too great, but I bet it�d be perfect for a bath.�
Sam turns
to smile at me, and the Ring whispers.
�Would you like a bath, Mr. Frodo?� he asks. �I have a bit of soap, if I�m not
mistaken.�
I sigh, and shrug off my
cloak. �Why not?� I say wearily. �I�m sure I could use one.� Sam hands me a small piece of soap and a rag
and I turn away to get undressed. The
thought of being naked in front of him, away from even the meager cover of
water, is too much to bear right then. I
quickly undress, dropping my weskit and my shirt onto my cloak. Unlacing my breeches swiftly, I let them
fall, stepping out of them and slipping into the water.
The warm
water feels wonderfully luxuriant as I sink into it, and my tense and sore
muscles relax immediately. I feel a
sense of contentment as I have not felt since I left the Shire, even with the
reason for so much despair lying cold and wet around my neck. It�s not until I turn to retrieve the soap
and cloth that I notice Sam, still sat near our packs. He is building up a small pile of sticks,
presumably for tonight�s camp. His back
is turned rather deliberately to me.
�Sam,� I call out, and he visibly stiffens. �You are going to join me, right?�
Sam shakes
his head and busies himself with the wood again. �No, you need to relax,� he says. �Go on and have your bath. You don�t need me bothering you.�
The warm
water has released something playful in me, for I splash water lightly in his
direction. �But it�s wonderful, Sam,� I
sigh, begging him to share the water with me.
I don�t know what I am hoping for, but disappointment rings in my mind
as he shakes his head. �Someone�s got to
keep watch,� he says stubbornly.
I sink back into the water. �Fine,� I say. �But you are taking one later, no doubt, and
I�ll keep watch. And I won�t take no for
an answer.�
I can hear the smile in Sam�s voice
as he answers. �Alright, Mr. Frodo. But only after you�re properly taken care
of.� I know I�m defeated. I never win with Sam, but I rather enjoy
trying. The friendly banter we share,
the laughter and jokes, gives me hope that he isn�t doing this out of propriety. He isn�t just a servant, trying to humor his
master. It gives me a faith in love.
Resigned, I pick up the soap and
rag and rub them together, working up a soft white lather. I sit, hypnotized by the bubbles, watching
the rainbow patterns the light makes on the delicate surface. Remembering a time, long ago, when I would
blow soap bubbles out of the window, each one a shining love letter. They would always seem to find their way to
the sun-kissed lad working in the garden, and each one brought such a lovely
smile to his face. A kind which I have
not seen in a long while, the light of that smile hovering at the edge of my
memory.
A bird calls in the distance. The sound snaps me out of my reverie, and the
warm sun on my skin replaced by warm water, I begin to wash. The dirt doesn�t readily come off, and the
paleness of my skin is a stark contrast to the grime that clung to it. Sam has to be much the same state, but I
can�t help being embarrassed. I must
have smelled as well.
Glad to be in the pure, cleansing
water, I dunk my head under quickly, shaking the hair out of my eyes as I come
back up. Slowly, I lean back, and
running the soap through my tangled curls, proceed to rinse the filth from my
hair. I feel as if the worries of the
world are leaving with the dirt, and I look up, content, into the pale blue
sky. With a sinking heart, I realize
this will be the last of such beauty for a long while. The thought is disheartening, and it brings
me back to the reality of the cold metal lying on my chest.
The bath is no longer relaxing, and
the water is uncomfortably hot. I climb
out of the water and into the grass surrounding the pool. The sun is a bit lower in the sky, and no less
bright. The warmth plays across my wet
skin. I dress quickly in the spare
clothes from my pack, using my cloak as a towel. Sam still has his back turned to me, and I
can see he�s already laid out our bedrolls.
A wonder he is, my Sam. Fairer
and more incredible than the elves he holds in such high regard. Here he is, forever by my side, and still I
cannot have him.

I place my hand on Sam�s strong, broad shoulders and he turns around,
surprised. I smile, and his face relaxes
into a smile to match my own, though I hope there is more sincerity and less
worry behind his.
�Thank you, Sam,� I say. �That was lovely. Now it�s your turn. I�ll keep watch.� Sam blushes and turns away.
�Yes, I think I�ll do that,� he
says softly. �But you don�t have to stay
for me, Mr. Frodo,� he adds quickly, with the tiniest of glances in my
direction. Sam�s cheeks are tinged red,
but for the most part, his face is unreadable.
�No.� I shake my head firmly.
�I�ll keep watch.�
We argue playfully for a few
moments until Sam finally persuades me to take a short walk and explore the
clearing. �Mind you, I said short,� he
admonishes, shaking a finger at me. �Be
back before it gets dark.�
The sun is already low in the sky
and I slip off, intending to make the most of my walk. Sam may mean well, but he�s extremely
protective by nature, and this wretched quest has made him even more so. Moments to myself are few and far
between. I need someplace to run away
to, somewhere to hide, but where could I escape those honey brown eyes?
The walk through the trees is
liberating. My mind relaxes, my barriers
lost to the scenery around me, and the Ring begins to whisper. I am ever in a waking dream, and happy images
spin wildly in my head, lost in a dance that has known neither sorrow nor loss. The Shire twirls before me, peaceful and
content. Rivendell spins into view, the
elves happily celebrating with Bilbo as he finishes his book with a
flourish. My dear cousin Merry, eyes
bright with some new mischief. Young,
sweet Pippin, throwing apples from his favorite hiding place. And Sam.
Lovely, perfect Sam, smiling gently, the sun making his hair glow golden
yellows and copper reds. Looking at me
through his eyelashes in a way that makes my heart melt and my knees shake. That one look is enough to make this quest
seem a fool�s outing, and everything is forfeit if I could just make that
real.
But as suddenly as my dreams came
upon me, I am beset by nightmares, and the laughing, happy faces that swam
before me are now twisted with grief and pain.
Long lines of hobbits trail before me, led towards a looming pillar of
smoke and latched together by chains.
The Fellowship lies broken and bruised, lying facedown on a mountain
built by bodies of the dead. My sweet Sam,
his flawless features contorted in agony.
He screams, a soul-wrenching sound that shatters my heart, and the
flames consume him as he is replaced by a staring lidless eye who ever searches
for me.
I am overcome with a need to make
sure my Sam is okay, and I rush back through the trees to the place I first
entered the woods. As I step into the
clearing I set eyes on the most beautiful sight I�ve ever seen in my life. Standing before me in the clear, warm water,
surrounded by mist, is my Sam. His bare
chest glistens, lovely and bronzed, illuminated by the water that trickles slowly
down his smooth skin. His golden hair
clings to his forehead, wet curls shining in the fading sunlight. My heart beats in my throat as my eyes follow
a light trail of hair that runs down his stomach and disappears into the
water. Blushing, I find that I am quite
unable to look away. I am completely
entranced by the ripples and curves of his muscles, the light and shadow
playing across his features, and I can�t help thinking how perfectly our bodies
would fit together.
I step back into the cover of the
trees, though not far enough to hide my view of this exquisite creature. As I hide in the shadows, afraid to move lest
he sees me, the Ring whispers to me again.
It�s voice is no longer comforting, it no longer seems an old
friend. The loud, harsh whisper swarms
my senses, pushing aside everything but the vision of my beautiful Sam.
Go
on, it whispers, go on and take him.
�No,� I murmur softly. My cracked voice sounds distant and unreal,
even as it falls from my dry lips.
Yes,
it whispers, and its� voice is like a sweet poison, promising a swift and
gracious release from a lifetime of pain.
He�s in the bath, he doesn�t see
you watching. He won�t see you, not
until you�re there. But by then, so much
could have happened. So much that you
have longed for...
�No,� I say, a little louder, no
less unreal. My strength has failed me,
and I can seem to form the words to rid myself of the voice that plagues me.
The Ring is angry now. Yes!
it screams, and the harsh sound resounds throughout my head and rings in my
ears. I don�t need to convince you, it hisses, a harsh derisive
sound. You�ve already convinced yourself.
Look...
The voice fades away, and I slowly
become aware of an intense heat, deep in my trousers. My erection is painfully tight, and it throbs
uncomfortably as I look o dro drink in the sight of Sam. He now stands naked on the grass, sideways to
me, and I find his lower body is as striking as his upper half. His behind curves perfectly into the toned
muscles of his legs. I can feel my heart
fluttering like a butterfly, trapped in my throat, as my eyes shift to stare at
Sam�s length, the same bronzed color as the rest of his deeply tanned skin,
maybe a bit lighter. �He�s big for a
hobbit,� I say, almost reverently. I
blush as I hear the words. *Big, but not too big,* I think, and I
have to stifle a giggle as these thoughts fly through my mind. They�re funny, the random thoughts that find
a half-mad hobbit in love.
Sam fades away as my thoughts turn
to my dear cousin Merry. Merry was my
first kiss, my first partner, my first everything. We had our own affair, from the years that I
lived at Buckland. I expect that�s why
Uncle Saradoc was so keen to get me out of his house. Before I left, Merry and I knew it was not to
last, but the move sealed our fate. I
knew I loved him, but I could never be
in love with him. He�s too wild, too
careless, too young for an old hobbit like me.
And too much of his heart already belonged to Pippin. Or at least it did. My sweet cousins were carried off by
Uruk-Hai, and I don�t expect to see them again.
Orcs are not known for their hospitality. Still, I wonder if I could�ve learned to love
him. He was so sweet, so caring, that we
could�ve given it a second chance. Yes,
I�m sure, had it not been for Sam taking over my heart so completely, I could
have loved him.

The Ring can sense my weakness, and it tries to worm it's way into my
mind and into my heart. Sam's golden
body swims and blurs before me, and suddenly his bright features are darkened
by a look foreign to his features, and yet it is unmistakable. Lust.
Pure, unadultered lust. I reach
out to caress his cheek and my hand closes on air. I sigh, and let my arm drop to my side. I would love to blame the bitterness in my
heart on the Ring, but I know it is not so.
My love for Sam is as pure and as true as it could ever be, but it is
ever destined to remain unreturned.
I look at my Sam, who is dressed
again, and head out to our little campsite.
I can smell the sausages on the little fire he's built, and the fading
sunlight puts the most beautiful highlights in his golden curls, still damp
from his bath. In the little light that
is left, his tanned skin seems to glow from within, and I struggle to
understand how someone so good, so pure, so beautiful
could exist in a world filled with
so much pain, so much suffering, and something as recklessly cruel as the One
Ring.
�Sam,� I
whisper, and he looks up startled. His
face softens in recognition.
�Hullo, Mr.
Frodo. Did you have a nice walk?�
�That I
did, Sam,� I say, settling in across from him.
Close, but not too close. I have
to keep my distance. I can�t control
myself...
Dinner is a
silent affair. I can feel the tension
between us. The silence unnerves me, but
I keep quiet anyway. When you don�t know
who you�re hiding from, you don�t know what�s safe to say. I try to concentrate on my food, trying not
to let any stray thoughts out. I can
feel his eyes, twin beams of light, streaming into my mind, reading my
thoughts, seeing what I see. I look up,
trying to catch his attention, but he is studying the fallen leaves and
grass. His plate is as full as
mine.
Sighing, I
push my food aside and lay down on my bedroll.
I give up. I can�t fight
anymore...

~*~

�Frodo...�
All that I am aware of as I awaken
is my Sam. His eyes are deep brown, a
sharp contrast to the honeyed tones that usually light his eyes.
�Frodo...�
His body is set against mine, and I
can feel his heart pounding. Sam�s bare
chest is pressed against my weskit, and slowly, almost painfully, he reaches
between us to unbutton my shirt. I lift
my hand to caress his cheek, and suddenly my world stops. My eyes are fixed on my raised hand. My fourth finger, the one that the Ring once
adorned, is no more. It is a bleeding,
twisted, stump, and I leave the smallest smear of crimson on my Samwise�s
perfect cheeks. He stares at me, disgust
and horror contorting his features, and he sits up, pulling away from me
quickly. I stare at his back, sick,
maimed, and rejected, and then I find myself truly awake, cold, sweaty, and
confused. Across from me, Sam snores
peacefully.
�How the hell are you asleep?� I yell, anguished and annoyed. I cross over to him and begin shaking his
sleeping form. He opens his eyes, dazed,
fear and confusion as clear as the crisp night air.
�How can you sleep when I want you
so much?� Sam looks at me,
uncomprehending. It infuriates me and I
slap him with all my strength, hard enough to turn his face from mine. Wounded tears form in the corner of his eyes,
and they hurt me as well. His face is
awash with confusion and betrayal.
�What don�t you understand?� Hot, angry tears stream down my cheeks, and I
roughly wipe them away. My hand slams
into Sam�s shoulder, and he winces. The
Ring begins to laugh, although there is no mirth in it�s tones. I look up into the starless, cloudless sky. The sliver of moon against the dark canvas of
night seems to be curled into a smile.
The damn thing is mocking me.
�Who the hell are you laughing at, you foul, miserable, wretch?� I jerk my head down to face Sam and relish in
the terror in his eyes. What does he
know about terror? Terror is being
chased by nine soulless wraiths on huge black steeds, faceless and terrible,
whose only pleasure is stealing the life out of you and making you their
own. Terror is knowing that you�ve
sacrificed your two best friends, the only family you�ve ever known, knowing
that you�ve gambled their lives so that you could run away. Terror is living in a dream world, made up of
shadow and fed by fear, so real that you don�t know what�s really happening or
if it�s the same damn nightmare over and over again. He thinks he knows terror, my Sam does, huh? Let me show him something of terror.
Slowly, I begin to unbutton his
shirt. �What are yo-� Sam begins to ask,
but I silence him with a hungry, fevered kiss.
Let him know of silence, when I have kept quiet for so long. Let him learn.
I pull
away, quickly, and return my fingers to his shirt. They feel clumsy and heavy as I undo the
buttons, and shaking, I find myself unable to control my body. The taste of Sam on my lips is intoxicating,
and I have lost all power to think, all reason to be. I am not aware of time, I simply understand
that there is all too little of it. Sam
looks away as I undo the last button and push the rough cloth off his
shoulders. Hurt, confusion, and tears
burn in his eyes as I run my fingers along his upper body, down his arms, past
his warm belly, in the grooves between his muscles, around each perfect, dark
nipple. I lower my mouth to trail kisses
down the path that my fingers just made, and my tongue traces delicate patterns
around the stiffened little peaks. With
a smile, I graze my teeth along the sensitive skin, and Sam gives a yelp of
indignation. Sitting up, straddled aside
his hips, I place a finger on his full, slightly swollen lips. My eyes fall on the mark on his cheek from
where I struck him. In the moonlight, it
stands out, a flaw on Sam�s perfect features, and I take an odd sort of
satisfaction in the brand on his face.
It is the sign of that which I have claimed, and no one may touch him
but me, in love or otherwise.
My fingers
find their way down to make quick work of the lacing on Sam�s trousers, and I
dismount long enough to expose the rest of him to the moonlight. His body seems to radiate an inner glow, and
coupled with the tears shining on his face, he looks like a fallen god, so far
away from home. He is breathtaking, and
I turn from him, suddenly embarrassed, to undress myself. My shirt falls, and closing my eyes, I let my
pants fall as well. I hear a sharp
intake of br beh behind me, but when I turn Sam is still looking away from my
face, eyes bright with fresh tears. I
nearly burst into tears as well. My heart
pounds below the scar of the cave troll�s spear, and the stark white of the
scar from the Morgul blade burns clear and pale. Ashamed of my flawed body, I let my eyes
trail down until they come to rest on the full arousal between his legs. �For all the tears, you *do* enjoy this,� I murmur, and I bring my lips down again to plant
a kiss near the base of the shaft. My
tongue leaves a wet trail down to the tip, where it traces the heart-shaped
head, savoring every taste, every little sound Sam makes as he winds his
fingers into my hair. I take him into my
mouth and he gives a little shudder, bucking his hips forward. I look up to see surprise and shame on his
face. He is ashamed of his body and
disgusted by his master, and yet he still whimpers, his erection throbbing with
need. We�ll finish this, my Sam, I think, and the thought doesn�t seem to
come from my own fevered mind. This is a night you will remember. A cold lump forms in my stomach as I settle
myself between his legs.
�Mister
Frodo, no, wait...� Sam says, trailing off as I slide my hands gently under his
buttocks. Pulling myself closer to him,
I slip a hand under the soft velvety sac to rub my travel-worn thumb across the
tight opening.
�Frodo, please, no...� he pleads, and through his
pleas I can hear something of Merry, brown eyes deep with lust, positively
begging for me to enter him, hoping to find something we lost in ourselves in
each other. But it is Sam in my mind and
in my arms as I push my forefinger into the tight space. And it is Sam who thrashes and bears down,
driving my finger deep inside him with a strangled cry. His body is flooded with warmth, and the heat
grows inside me as well. A second finger
follows the first, driving in as far as the other had gone, and I feel him
stretching and beginning to give way.
Sam�s head whips wildly from side to side, eyes focused on a point in
the heavens that he silently whispers to, over and over again.
�Lie
still,� I order quietly; and Sam begins to calm down, though the wildness lurks
still in his wide eyes. He locks his
huge, frightened eyes on mine, asking questions that I have no power to
answer. I tear my gaze from his, feeling
empty without his eyes on mine. Pulling
out my fingers quickly, I complete my act by shoving into him roughly.
I can tell I�ve hurt him from the
cry of pain he gives as I penetrate him, shuddering as the heat swallows me
whole and I bury myself deep inside of him.
The cold stone in my stomach is engulfed by the fire searing through my
loins, and there it remains, a blackened coal that aches with every
thrust. Hot, salty tears stream down my
face, and Sam�s sweet features mirror the tears on mine. Grasping his arousal, I slowly begin to move
my hand along the length, feeling it throb as the rhythm of my hand and the
rhythm of my hips join together. I cling
to Sam, keeping my hand and my body moving with the last of my strength. My knees shake underneath me, threatening to
give way.
This
is what you wanted, isn�t it? the
Ring sneers, voice dripping with sarcasm and mock concern. �Yes,� I gasp, panting for breath, barely
able to see through my tears, pushing into Sam with everything I am. The voice fades into a horrible, cruel
laughter, and I try to push it out of my thoughts until nothing remains.
Faster and faster I move, my mind
empty. If I could describe my thoughts,
they would be white, a pure, stark white; a blank canvas helpless to the will
of the artist. Higher thought has left
me for a new master, and bright lights dance behind my closed eyelids. And even as my mind races, devoid of all
thought, my senses become terribly clear.
I suddenly become aware of everything; each small, uncontrolled spasm my
body gives as it nears climax; the chill that hangs in the crisp night air; the
heat burning between my body and Sam�s that threatens to swallow us all. The sticky wetness of Sam�s seed as he comes
between us with a shuddering gasp. I
give one, last, shaky thrust and spill into him with a liquid flame that fills
my body as well and destroys a part of my heart forever.
Spent, I pull out slowly, shaking,
my body too weak to support its own weight.
The bright white that burned inside me has been replaced with a cold,
dead darkness that leaves me trembling all over. I struggle to stand, but my legs give way and
I fall onto my knees, my body shuddering with sobs.
�I�m sorry, Sam,� I moan, lamenting
all that I have lost, all that will never return. �So, so, sorry.�
There is a moment�s hesitation
before Sam wraps his arms around me tightly.
I cry even harder, knowing I have hurt him, knowing I don�t deserve his
touch. Even as I have defiled his body
and desecrated my love for him, he still holds me. But if we are alone, and I seek his embrace,
who will he go to? Whose arms will he sob
in? To whom will he say, My master raped me today...
I shut my eyes tightly, so tightly
that I bring back the stars that shined behind my eyelids. Tears stream from the corner of my eyes until
I feel I may drown in them. If I deserved
to die, if I deserved release from the knowledge from what I�ve done, such
would be a fitting punishment, to drown in my own tears.
Sam�s voice seems to come from a
place far away, a place touched by horror that will never be the same. A part of that place has died, and although
Sam�s voice is strong, the hurt and the doubt still linger in it�s tones. �Shh, Mr. Frodo,� he whispers. He speaks to me soothingly, as if I were the
one who was wronged. �It�ll all be
alright. It�ll be okay.� A moment passes before he speaks again,
quieter than before. �Just...� His voice
falters and I look up at him, tears streaming down his moonlit cheeks. His face is turned from mine, but I can
clearly see the hurt in his eyes, a hurt that may never heal.
�Why didn�t you just tell your
Sam? Why? You can trust me, even if you can�t trust no-one
else. I loved you so, Mr. Frodo, I�d
have given you the would if you�d only asked...
You didn�t have to...� '> He trails
off hopelessly and I sob, shaking my wretched body with emotion, tears, and the
pain I have caused the one person I love most in all of Middle-Earth. Between us, the One Ring shines, untouched by
our tears, glinting as cold and as pure as ice.
And I realize now, though much too late, that there is only one Lord of
the Rings. No one else can wield his
power.
- 1
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