Water Hot is a Noble Thing

Water Hot is a Noble Thing


“Saaaammm? Oh Saaaaaaaamm!”

Sam was in the kitchen preparing dinner when he heard Frodo calling for him from the bathing room. He grinned to himself, still not completely used to the fact that he was living in Bag End with his love. Not as a servant, either, he liked to add. He and Frodo were as good as married.

“Half a minute, Frodo!” Sam called over his shoulder, “I’ve only just got supper on the fire. Let me tidy up a bit first!”

A loud sigh was heard from down the hallway. “Oh Sam,” said Frodo, “you and your tidying up! Won’t you come and wash my back for me?”

Sam began to feel a warm tingle course through his body. He looked around the kitchen, decided the mess could wait awhile, and started walking towards the bathing room.

When Sam opened the door, he was momentarily blinded by the amount of steam that was in the air. Squinting his eyes a bit, he saw Frodo sitting in the large bathtub.

“Hullo Sam!” said Frodo, looking up with large, plaintive eyes. “Won’t you please scrub my back for me?”

Sam nodded and started to pick up the large sponge.

“Now Sam,” said Frodo, gazing flirtatiously at Sam from under his dark lashes, “don’t you think you ought to take your clothes off before doing that? You’re just going to get all wet.”

Sam blushed. Even though he and Frodo had been enjoying a physical relationship for nearly six months now, he still became embarrassed when they talked about it. Frodo would tease him and call him a prude when this happened, but they both knew that when it came to the actual doing of it, Sam had no problem at all.

With a crooked smile, Sam boldly stood in front of Frodo and slowly took off his shirt. Frodo clapped and Sam’s grin grew wider. He unbuttoned his breeches and then stopped.

“Oh Sam!” said Frodo with a laugh, “don’t tease me!” Frodo stuck out his lip in a mock-pout and looked at Sam with that doe-eyed expression he had—the one that always seemed to get him his own way in bed. Sam blushed and turned around, removing his breeches. When he once again faced Frodo, it was obvious that the doe-eyes had done their job marvelously.

“Now, what was that about wanting your back scrubbed sir?” Sam said with a grin.

“My Sam!” said Frodo, laughing, “do stop talking and get into the bath with me!”

Sam laughed, and climbed into the deep copper bathtub with Frodo. The water was deliciously warm, and Sam found himself feeling positively wanton as he looked over at Frodo’s glistening body.

Reaching over, Sam tangled his hand in Frodo’s wet curls and inhaled the sweet scent of the lavender soap that Frodo used, mingled with the older hobbit’s own, musky, male-scent. Oh, how sweet he smelled! How perfectly lovely and beautiful he was! As he leaned in to kiss his love, a single tear slid down Sam’s rosy hobbit cheek.

Frodo delicately wiped away Sam’s tear with his thumb, and looked questioningly at him, blue eyes soft with concern. “I love you so much, Frodo,” Sam whispered hoarsely. “Sometimes it just overtakes me, if you follow my meaning.” Nodding, Frodo took Sam’s face in his hands, and kissed him. Sam returned the kiss hungrily; sucking on Frodo’s lips and tongue as though he were starving and they were made of the sweetest honey.

Wrapping his legs around Sam’s waist, Frodo reached between them to touch Sam’s hardness. When his fingers brushed the swollen tip, Sam gasped and thrust his hips forward into Frodo’s waiting hand. Frodo grinned and reached behind Sam for the bar of soap. He then soaped up his hand, as well as Sam’s member. Slowly but firmly he stroked Sam’s shaft, pausing every now and then to run his thumb over the rosy pink head.

Sam continued to thrust into Frodo’s soapy hand. Arching his back, he began moving faster and faster until he was practically pounding Frodo into the side of the tub. “Oh Frodo…Frodo…Frodo!” he screamed while his muscles tensed up in anticipation of release. As Sam’s body surrendered its seed into the warm bath, Frodo reached up with his free hand and pulled Sam’s face to his. He kissed Sam fiercely, almost swallowing him up in his hunger.

Sam slumped over Frodo in the water, and trembled with the aftershocks of his climax. He nuzzled Frodo’s neck and murmured sweet words of love into his ear. They held each other like that for a few minutes, until Sam lifted his head and gazed into Frodo’s eyes. He had never quite gotten used to their depth, and their ability to change color slightly according to Frodo’s moods. Right now, they were a brilliant, shimmering sapphire blue, and were filled with need.

“Why Mister Frodo,” said Sam, smiling that crooked smile, “Since you did such a good job of scrubbing me up, I reckon it’s my turn to wash you.”

“Of course, Sam,” said Frodo in a husky voice, “Whatever you think is best.”

“Turn around then please, sir,” said Sam.

Frodo turned around, then looked over his shoulder at Sam. “Sam! Sir?” he said, laughing.

“Now now, Frodo,” said Sam, waggling his finger, “I said turn around and I meant it.”

Frodo’s erection began to throb wildly. He loved it when Sam took charge, and Sam knew it. This little game they played only served to turn Frodo on more than ever. “Whatever you say, Sam,” he said. “Whatever you say.”

Sam bit his lip, and reached for the soap and the big bathing sponge. Slowly, he lathered up the sponge with the rich soap, and began running it over Frodo’s back in a very slow and enticing manner.

“Now, what was this about wanting your back scrubbed, sir?” murmured Sam. Frodo moaned, and began fingering his erection. “Now sir,” said Sam, gently but firmly taking Frodo’s hand away from his groin, “we’ll have none of that! You need to save that for your Sam.” Frodo moaned again, and let his hands fall limp at his sides.
Sam scrubbed Frodo’s back with the sponge, all the while rubbing up against him and leaning over to nibble on his neck. Finally, when he knew Frodo couldn’t stand it any longer, he put the sponge down and rinsed the soap from Frodo’s back.

“Turn around again, Frodo,” said Sam. Frodo turned around and flashed those amazing eyes at Sam. His color was high, and his lips were swollen like two ripe berries. Sam couldn’t stand it another second. He had to have Frodo right now.

Grasping his lover by the hips, Sam lifted Frodo up and sat him on the edge of the tub. He licked his lips as he looked upon Frodo’s erection. My goodness, he thought, even his member is beautiful.

Sam took Frodo’s shaft into his hand, and slowly began running his tongue around the head. Moaning, Frodo buried his fingers in Sam’s curly hair, and arched his neck. Sam grinned, and took as much of the older hobbit’s shaft into his mouth as he could. Then he slowly slid it out, careful not to bite. Not surprisingly, Sam could already feel it begin to swell in his mouth, as Frodo’s body prepared for its climax. He continued to slowly stroke and lick, until he felt Frodo’s thighs begin to tense up. Then, sucking hard on the head, Sam began to quickly stroke Frodo’s shaft.

“Don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop,” whispered Frodo, and Sam continued his frenzied stroking. Finally, Frodo’s body went rigid, as he gasped and screamed out Sam’s name.

Sam felt the hot seed hit the back of his throat, and he swallowed it slowly. He always loved to savor the salty-sweet taste of Frodo’s ejaculate. He had tasted his own once, and found it to be rather bitter tasting, but Frodo’s always had a sweetness to it that Sam just couldn’t resist.

Sam reached up and carefully lowered Frodo back into the bath. As he felt Frodo fall against him, exhausted and spent, Sam could feel his heart swell with the love he felt for his former master.

“Oh Sam…” said Frodo, “How I do love you…”

“And I love you, Frodo. I always have, you know.”

Frodo looked up at Sam, large eyes glossy with unshed tears. “Sam, I wish…” he stopped in mid-sentence and sniffed the air. “Sam? Do you smell something burning?”

Just my heart for you, Mister Frodo, thought Sam, and then he could smell it as well.

“Oh no! Supper!”

Sam leaped from the tub, and ran nude and dripping down the hall to the kitchen. Frodo could hear him curse as he deposited what was to be their dinner into the washtub.

“I expect we’ll be supping at the Green Dragon tonight, Frodo!” shouted Sam from the kitchen.

Frodo began to laugh, and found that he could not stop. As the tears ran down his face, Frodo crawled out of the tub. “Coming, Sam!” he shouted. Then, as a fresh fit of laughter burst from him, Frodo began padding down the hall to the kitchen—naked as the day he was born, dripping wet, and smelling very strongly of lavender.