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Frodo's Harem at Khazaddum.com
Title: Autumn’s Requiem
Author: Aratlithiel and Ariel
Summary: A ‘what if’ Frodo/Rosie romance
Category: Angst/Romance
Rating: PG-13 thru R
June 20, 2003
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A/N – Concept by Aratlithiel, writing by Aratlithiel and Ariel
Autumn’s Requiem – Part 2 of the ‘Seasons in the Shire’ Trilogy
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~Chapter 2~
Rated: R
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They stepped to the tiled floor of the entryway and Frodo led her to the pegs on the wall, stopping for a moment to light the sconce on the wall in the hallway.
"May I?" he asked, placing his hands on her shoulders and lightly grasping the knitted shawl she had wrapped around them.
"Nay," said Rose, tightening her hold on the fringes. "I'd like to keep it, thank you kindly." Rose wasn't sure what the morning routine was at Bag End but she certainly didn't want Sam coming in to do his morning chores and spotting her shawl draped over a peg on Mr. Baggins' cloak rack. Wants and desires notwithstanding, Rose was a very practical girl.
"All right, then," Frodo said as he removed his own cloak and hung it on a peg. "Would you like to go into the parlor for some wine or tea perhaps?"
Rose turned and gazed at him silently, feeling the heat rekindle in her belly and spread throughout her suddenly trembling body. She reached up to tuck a stray curl behind his ear and he closed his eyes. Even his breath stood still as she traced about his ear with her fingertip. She dallied there for a moment, stroking the rapidly pinking ear tip, feeling the silk of his dark hair as it curled around her finger and watching his cheeks heat with a flush of sudden warmth. She could feel the waves of passion and want radiating from him and when he opened his eyes again they were so dark and fiery she could not pull her gaze away.
He lifted her chin and stroked her skin with his thumb, drawing in close and brushing his lips against hers in a maddeningly soft caress. With the same hand, he stroked her neck, his touch showing none of his earlier tentativeness. His breath was hot against her lips and the scent of him, a heavy stirring musk, was making her senses reel. The warmth in her belly spread lower and a stabbing ache pierced her loins. There was no turning back now. She had been sure of herself when she asked to accompany him home, but her body's sudden comprehension of what was about to happen sent a thrill of fear up her back. She didn't want to stop him, and was not sure if she could have, but the imminence of this deliciously furtive act sent a charge of doubt through her. What was she thinking? Her body answered her unspoken question with unerring swiftness. Her hands reached up and plunged into his dark hair. She pulled him close and pressed her lips hard against his. Warm, soft lips, just as tender as she had imagined, quivered and opened to her. She thrust her tongue eagerly into his inviting mouth and felt the lightning touch of his own tongue as it slid past hers. The taste of him and the sensation of him delving into her mouth crackled through her, igniting a fire where there had been warmth and burying the last vestige of her hesitation.
She pressed her body against him until he was pushed to the wall and until she could feel his desire hard and solid against her. She suddenly hungered to feel him pressed against the very center of her need and rose on her tiptoes as she leaned into him. His own yearning seemed enflamed by her unabashed eagerness, and he dove into her mouth again aggressively. His hands traveled down her back to her buttocks and he squeezed her tighter against him. Rose could feel the warm ridge of flesh even through the many folds of fabric that separated them and unashamedly arched her hips to meet it. Frodo's breath quickened and a soft growl rose in his throat.
His hands were sure and steady as they stroked her body against him. They caressed and urged and seemed to be everywhere at once. She felt them cup her buttocks; squeezing the soft flesh and pulling her harder against him. Then one wandered to her waist and, with a firm upward stroke, rode up over the mound of her breast as his lips and tongue wandered slowly down her throat. Every part of her body was responding to him. She was being played expertly, like a fine instrument by a master of the craft. The sensations were overwhelming; the heat and damp between her legs, the aching pull that radiated out from her belly, the sweet musk of his dark curls as they brushed her face. Her head spun. The heat of her own desire threatened to engulf her and turn her legs to jelly. She clutched at the shawl as it slipped from her shoulder and Frodo suddenly broke off his hungry progress. Rose moaned the loss of his petal soft lips and opened her eyes.
Frodo's eyes were so dark in the dimness of the smial they almost seemed black. Tiny specks of light glittered in their depths and they swirled with naked, unquenched fervor. She stared into those dark pools, mesmerized and wondered if it were possible for her to fall into them and whirl in their depths until she cried out from the bliss of it. His lips shimmered too, rosy and wet with desire and his cheeks were flushed an excited pink. The sight of this elegant and exotic creature so aroused took Rose's breath away. He was lovely! She could feel the heartbeat pounding through his lithe frame and with each quickened breath, the hard flesh he pressed against her jumped with unrepressed eagerness. If he had not had such a firm grip on her she would have swooned.
"Come with me," he whispered.
~*~
They entered his bedroom. Rose was amazed to find she could still walk after the hallway, but as she looked at the big featherbed in the center of the room, her knees weakened again. It looked so soft and inviting. Its white down coverlet borrowed pale blue from the faint moonlight that spilled into the room and the fluffy white pillows looked like clouds against the dark walnut headboard. Rose had a sudden vision of her hair spilled across the pillowcases and her hands clenching the rich cotton sheets. Sweet terror ran up her spine again. Rose Cotton what are you doing? Have you gone mad?
He went to the fireplace, stripping his jacket and tossing it on the overstuffed chair that crouched by the hearth. He bent to rekindle the fire and warm the chill room. Rose watched, entranced, as the soft glow of the flame pulled a dazzling umber from his hair and lit his face with a warm, golden glow of fire and shadow. She caught her breath. He was breathtakingly beautiful. From the fire-lit tips of his curls to the soft curve of his strong back, he had a loveliness that made you ache to touch him, if for no other reason than to prove to yourself that such beauty could really exist in the here and now. And here he was, in his home, alone with her. By his own admission he had wanted to approach her for years. This despite their stations and despite mutual acquaintances and previous attachments. And soon he would be going away, perhaps forever? A chance like this might never present itself again. She took a deep breath and stilled her trembling hands. She knew what she was doing. She dropped her shawl to the wooden chair beside the door and reached behind her to pull the latch to. If this was madness, then let it be an exquisite madness.
He looked up at the click of the lock and stood. His eyes glittered knowingly in the newly bright fire and he began to unbutton his waistcoat. He watched her, unabashed, as the garment came undone and then sent it to join the jacket on the chair. Every gesture had an economy of movement, a grace and beauty the like of which she had never seen. His fingers came to rest on the topmost button of his shirt and the image of them arrayed gracefully across sumptuous cotton fabric burned into her memory. It had surprised her how soft those fingers were. When she had taken his hand, it was almost a shock not to feel hard horny calluses or to feel dry, cracked, labor roughened skin like that the men in her family possessed. His fingers had felt almost alien - but not unwelcome for all their softness. He knew how to use them, as his fervent stroking of her body attested, and the thought of those soft fingertips caressing her naked skin sent a shiver of anticipation up her spine.
He took several steps toward her and suddenly she was rushing to meet him. Their lips met and the passion that had flamed in the hallway rekindled tenfold. This time, Rose opened to him and the eager forcefulness of his plunging kiss left her gasping. He stroked her sides firmly, leaving a trail of fire where he touched her. Yes! He did know how to use those elegant hands. She wrapped her arms around his lean waist and tugged the shirttail from the small of his back. There, beneath warm cotton, his skin was warmer still. She placed her palm against the hollow of his spine and stroked him. His skin was as soft as a baby's bottom but the muscles beneath, tensed in anticipation, were firm and solid. All the walking he did kept him fit and sound. And so responsive! The lightest touch of her fingertips made his back quiver, his hands knead mercilessly into her buttocks and his lips dance against hers with an enthusiasm and knowledge that she had never before experienced. This would not be like taking a tumble with some lad in her father's barn; all panting breaths and hurried kisses. This would be deeper, richer - almost divine; a feast of sensation almost too fine for her simple heart to bear.
His hands returned to move slowly up her waist and with determined, assertive strokes he reached her breasts. Tenderly he cradled each and began to rub his thumbs firmly over her nipples. They sprang erect even through the fabric of her bodice. Rose moaned into his mouth and arched eagerly against him. The tingle that began at the points of his exquisite touch joined the fire in her belly and threatened to sear her to her deepest depths. He knew just how to please her, that was certain. He began to knead the soft tissues and stroked harder until she fell away from his kiss to gasp in ecstasy.
Instead of allowing her a reprieve, his fingers went to the laces of her bodice and began pulling at them with a gentle urgency.
"Why," he groaned, laying his forehead against her soft neck. "Must lasses’ garments be so blasted complicated?"
She smiled and though it was difficult to even think when his mouth moved so skillfully against her throat, she managed to whisper, "So that we can be sure, mmmmm,.... sure that the lad who tries to puzzle them open is either very practiced or very persistent."
He let out a small chuckle and the feel of his breathy laughter against her neck nearly drove her mad with desire. Her arms tightened reflexively around his trim waist and she felt the ridge of flesh, still hard and hot press exactly where she needed to feel it. Frodo's laughter turned to a deep groan of need.
"Well, then you're in luck," he breathed, his voice thick and rough with passion. He pulled the bodice from her shoulders and let it drop to the floor, "for I am both." He set to work on the laces of her blouse and she reached for his shirtfront. Desire lent skill to her fingertips and she deftly flicked the buttons open. Soft cotton folds fell back to expose his lean, solid chest and she ran eager hands over the smooth expanse. He was pale, almost luminescent in the moonlight and yet the fire and his ardor touched his body with a delicious pink. She ran her hands over his heated skin and he tilted his head back as she leaned in to circle her tongue around a dark nipple.
"Oh, Rose," he whispered and tangled a hand in her hair to press her mouth more firmly to his chest. She obliged eagerly, letting him know by example the treatment she herself would appreciate. He groaned even louder and wrapped the other arm about her body to pull her tight against him. She laved his chest with her tongue and bit at his nipples till they became hard dark nubs on his chest. His breathing quickened and he began to grind his hips against hers. That simple movement almost destroyed her. If this were the primer of his skill, then the whole text would be beyond imagining. Her hands trembled as they pushed the shirt over his shoulders and down his arms. His hand was still tangled in her curls and he pulled her away from her task and forced her to look up into his face.
There he stood for a long moment, his dark, feral eyes staring deep into hers. Then, as if deciding, he slipped the shirt off first one arm, then the other and put both hands to her cheeks. Rose's head began to clear of its lusty fog and she wondered what delight he had next in store for her. She had heard the rumors, and from what she had already experienced, no doubt remained in her that they were absolutely true. He claimed her mouth once again and thrust his tongue in to circle and sweep against her own. His hands finished the task of unlacing her blouse in three swift, efficient motions, and he pushed it hurriedly aside to touch her breasts without the shield of fabric between them.
Rose was right. His soft hands felt exquisite against her creamy skin. They rolled and teased her nipples until she groaned again and then he bent to suckle the aroused breast. If his hands had felt glorious, his lips were divine. Rose's eyes rolled back and she wrapped her arms around Frodo's dark head, drawing him in, trapping him against her breasts, pleading, begging, demanding that he not stop this delicious attention. He obliged, gleefully, with the enthusiasm of a child finally being given permission to play with his favorite toy. Soft sucks, bites and vigorous rooting drew Rose almost to the point of ecstasy. And we've not done anything yet! her mind screamed. The energy building in her loins rose and crested, then stabilized at the height of arousal. When this culmination came, it would tear her apart.
In the part of her mind that could still be aware of such things, she felt his hands moving down to the fastenings of her skirt. The garment came undone and he slipped her clothes; skirt, petticoats and bloomers, inch by inch, over her bottom and down her shapely legs. He paused a moment to slip a hand between her thighs as if to sample the warm wetness there, but he did not pursue it. Rose, taken to the edge of ecstasy by this hobbit's already displayed skills, was vaguely glad he did not touch her yet. That would have been all that was needed to finish her… and she was not yet ready for that.
She kicked the clothes off the ends of her feet impatiently and Frodo's strong arms lifted her and wrapped her legs around his waist. It was time. She could feel him carrying her to the bed, could feel the touch of soft cool cotton against her heated skin, could feel his delightfully playful mouth leave her breasts to trail liquid fire down her belly. She arched into him but he leaned back and stood gazing down at her, his chest heaving.
"Rose Cotton you are beautiful," he whispered. "The most beautiful creature I have ever seen." He paused, as if he might say more, and, as she felt his hands moving away from her, Rose wondered if he was having second thoughts. Reassurance came a moment later in the unmistakable thump of his braces and trousers hitting the floor. Then she opened her eyes.
Firelight danced across his naked body, washing it in golden shadow. His lean muscles were defined sharply in the faint light but his face remained in shadow. The glitter of his eyes and the flash of two gapped teeth highlighted the hobbit features on this otherworldly creature. Surely no being from Middle earth could be this lovely. She raised her arms and beckoned him. He smiled, and more teeth flashed, and he leaned over her prostrate form to place a gentle kiss between her breasts.
She knew what the rumors had said. She had seen the suffused blush of guilty fire when those who knew spoke of Frodo Baggins. He was not as promiscuous as most unmarried hobbits his age, and those he favored tended to be less than usually concerned with others' opinions, but as young hobbit lasses will talk, word had gotten about. There was something he did that was different from other hobbit lads. She had been told what it was through embarrassed giggles and crimson-flushed lips, but she was not at all prepared for the actuality.
He placed both his hands on her hips and held her more firmly than he had yet done. That touch alone was stirring. Rose felt commanded, taken, and absolutely unable to resist. She gasped as she felt his kisses, sure and languid, trail inexorably down her belly. Kiss after gentle kiss, in an unbroken line. He was not stopping. She drew an astonished breath as the next kiss tracked onto electrified skin and her body began to realize where the pattern of his attentions was leading. She jumped, her body tensing like a terrified rabbit as the next kiss landed. Now she understood his death grip on her hips. The next kiss made her buck wildly and had he not held her so tightly, her motions would have thrown her from the bed. As it was she had no choice but to endure the unbelievable as he moved lower and lower…
And suddenly he was between her thighs, pushing them gently apart, his lips teasing her flesh and his artful tongue probing her in a way no other had ever done before. Lightning streaked through her loins and fire erupted in her brain. Her head slammed back against the pillows and her hips heaved up. This was unlike anything she had ever experienced. Her body was on fire and every nerve ending crackled with light. She would have cried out but she was beyond speech. She bucked again unable to control her seething body but Frodo held her tight, his strong, nimble fingers digging into her hips as he dove deeper. There was no build up. Rose felt herself consumed by a wave of sensation that rose screaming from her deepest depths. It overwhelmed her before she could even anticipate it and the cry she had not been able to utter before ground from her lips. It rose to a scream the like of which she had never uttered in her life and still he held her. Light exploded behind her eyes and her hips started to thrust so hard into him that he could no longer continue. It didn't matter anymore anyway - her body was humming powerfully in the throes of complete and utter bliss. She didn't even notice that he had stopped until she became aware he had joined her on the bed, sliding up alongside her, and slipping his arms around her quaking body.
She was shuddering violently, as if from bitter cold, but she was flushed and warm. The flame of passion that had ripped through her was fading to an aching glow, and she turned to look in awe at Frodo. His eyes were dark and liquid and he looked almost coy as he peered at her through a mussed tangle of dark curls. The smile on his lips was satisfied and knowing, but still hungry and feral. Rose's stupefied expression in answer obviously pleased him. She could find no words to speak and only lay gasping like a fish. He placed a playful bite on her shoulder and Rose laughed out loud with delight.
"Your pleasure is enchanting, sweet Rose," he whispered, his smile broadening. "Like sunlit fields of the fertile Shire. Now let me share mine with you, if I may."
At that, he slid slowly beneath the sheets, softly raising himself up to lay his body over her. She still shivered but his unrelenting sensual progress was warming her again. She closed her eyes in delicious anticipation as he slid between her legs and arched her back as he slipped an arm under her waist to lift her up. Then she could feel what had only been rumor before. He was hard and firm pressed up against her still enflamed depths and though she had only moments before experienced a consummation of unbelievable intensity, she felt the heat in her belly beginning to build again. He pushed… but only a little and her body tingled with fire to feel him at her threshold, ready and focused. The fevered urgency in him had slowed to deliberate purpose. He paused and looked into her eyes.
Such intensity was mirrored in his that Rose could not look away. It shocked her to see sorrow there too, and regret, and a million other things she could not fathom. It was as if she were looking into his deepest heart and finding that that only scratched the surface of his true being. All at once Rose understood why this hobbit could inspire Samwise to follow him to Crickhollow and away from his family and hope of a sweetheart. At that moment and if she had had leave to, she would have done likewise. The nobility of his spirit could not be denied.
He moved, and slowly, bit by bit, holding her eyes with his, pushed his way within her. Rose's body jerked and spasmed but she held to his steadfast eyes, accepting him within her trembling body with every ounce of her strength and will. He ground deep into her and at last closed his mesmerizing eyes to groan with pleasure. Slowly his hips flexed and he arched out only to thrust back slowly again. If his earlier attentions had rocketed her to climax, this agonizingly slow progress was designed to take her there by a sure and steady course. She sighed and relaxed into his rhythm, rocking easily to meet each gentle stroke, riding a ripple of delight instead of a flood of intensity. Each sensual movement a gentle guide that coaxed her already roused body back to the precipice of fulfillment. She almost sang with joy at the easy pleasure of it.
Her senses filled with the essence of him above and within her. He smelled of ink and chamomile, leather and honey, ale and cinnamon, …and another hard, rousing musk that was intimately Frodo. Rose drew the scent into herself, letting it pervade her memory of this night. This was a part of him he shared with no one - except now, her. This perfume of dark hair and crystal blue eyes would be hers to cherish. Even if she were never to be privy to it again in her life, this essence would be her treasure for as long as she lived.
Her ardor was rising and her mind was awash with color and sensation. She lost all awareness of time. It seemed as if he held her suspended in a wondrous rapture for hours as waves of pleasure crested ever higher within her. Hard yet soft, and quick yet deliberate he kept a flawless control of himself. She sensed the power coursing through his frame and knew she was defenseless against it. This slow pleasure-filled dance was building a frenzy that would completely consume her, and still she begged for him to continue.
She realized he was kissing her neck with an increasing urgency. Tender bites interwove his lips' ministrations and soft, hungry groans punctuated his sweet breath. He lay softly upon her, his body supported on his elbows and his arms wrapped under her shoulders. His hands gripped her with trembling iron fingers and he arched, pulling himself deep into her. He was quickening. He groaned and the haunted, yearning, animal sound resonated through both their sweating bodies. With a mighty arch he suddenly drove himself hard inside her and before she could even gasp at the forcefulness of the thrust, he did so again, and again. What had begun slow was becoming a blistering, writhing, frenzied onslaught. Roaring and light filled her mind. She gave in to his ardor eagerly and completely.
He began to slam into her with wild, joyful abandon and her body bucked and heaved up to meet him. Delving deep, his trim, muscular hips fulfilled their promise of quickness and his arms drew her even harder against him. She might have been screaming, or perhaps that hungry cry was his voice, she did not know. All she understood was that she had no control over it. He was taking his pleasure unrestrainedly and she reeled with every delicious staccato thrust.
A bellow of lust erupted from him and Rose felt warmth spread within her as his creamy seed filled her womb. His release undid her completely and the rising swell of her second climax broke over her in a wave of pulsating heat. This was no blaze of swift flame, but an inferno that filled her to fingertips and beyond. She felt herself swelling to receive him, opening to welcome his gift and falling into a shower of blazing stars. Each bright point seared her with a different kind of fire, like gems tossed into a sunlit sky. Here a topaz flame, here emerald, and there a diamond that burned into her soul. Another wave overwhelmed her and another built behind it. She was drowning, unable to even breathe as her body took all it could of him into itself.
Sweetness. The sensation was like honey spread on just-baked bread, or the soft whir of bees in a summer garden. Joy filled her heart and she opened her eyes to look up at her lover. Sweet agony still gripped him and the look on his face burned itself into her memory. He was come. He was filled as completely as she had been. He ached as she did with a supreme ecstasy that buried his senses and lifted the soul. Rose could not help but weep to see this lovely, perfect creature striving blissfully into her body. From him she had taken pleasure and now she knew she had given it back to him in full measure. There had never been a gift she had been more delighted to give.
Somehow she had wrapped her legs around him, milking the last drop of his goodness perhaps, and now she tenderly relaxed her hold. He sighed, trembling in his turn and dropped wearily onto her. Rose wrapped her arms tight about him and held his body close. His heart was beating hard and fast and his belly fluttered against hers. He began to shake but she held him until it eased and she felt him soften within her. She could hear the night-sounds outside his bedroom again, punctuated by his heavy but slowing breath. All was peaceful, almost as if her world had not just been an explosion of light. She kissed his elegantly pointed ear and stroked his dark curls as contentment and comfort replaced the fading fire and when gentle sleep stole over them both, she welcomed it as well.
~*~
TBC