Another story originally posted on Live Journal, this one for Aratlithiel's birthday. NC-17 for graphic hetrosexual sex., please. This is an AU of my "Beyond" AU, set in the years before Crickhollow Year 8, after Frodo has returned to the Shire to live at Crickhollow with Sam. To bring you up to speed, here is the relevant excerpt from that story:


by Laura Mason

In the back of his mind Frodo knew it was late, for Sam had returned from the pub hours ago and was now snoring in his room. But he ignored the time and continued reading until Peony suddenly yawned, then blushed bright red.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Baggins."

"I'm the one who should apologize, Miss Stillwater. I've kept you here far too late. You have classes tomorrow." He stood and went to the bassinet where young Drogo slept, and carefully began wrapping him up for the trip home.

When Peony came to Buckland, fleeing Hobbiton, the gossips called her a ruined hobbit, spoiled, and everyone wondered who the father of her baby might be. Frodo knew the truth, and he was determined to see Peony live and prosper despite the hobbit who'd wronged her.

When she delivered, Peony asked if she might name her child for him, Frodo had asked her to remember his father instead. He didn't regret agreeing to her request, though he knew the name had confirmed suspicions that he was its father. Frodo had lived outside the Shire too long to fear gossip, and he refused to let it keep him from helping Peony or loving her innocent baby. Peony was a good mother, despite what Lotho had done to her.

He picked up the boy, who didn't wake, and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead, praying that Drogo would be like Frodo's father, with nothing of Lotho inside him.

"I can carry him," Peony offered, and Frodo handed him over, instead taking the stack of papers and books she needed to bring home, which was heavier than the child.

The walk wasn't far, and on this clear night the sickle moon was bright enough that they didn't need a lantern. Peony was the kind of person who didn't object to silence, and Frodo thought that made her a good friend. She was content with her own thoughts on this beautiful autumn night, or perhaps a little too tired to chat.

But when they reached her house, the schoolhouse, Peony spoke.

"Can you come inside for a moment, until I've settled Drogo? I wanted to ask you something."

Frodo agreed, setting down her books and papers, and stirring up the fire in the kitchen. He didn't light any candles, knowing that her salary didn't allow for many luxuries. He stood, arms crossed, staring at the flames

"Mr. Baggins," she said from the doorway.

"I've asked you to call me Frodo," he said, not turning to face her. "I think we are too good of friends to remain so formal, Miss Stillwater."

"I agree," she replied, and warm, bare arms slipped around Frodo from behind, and a soft body snuggled up to him. He turned his head then, to meet the sweet kiss aimed for his ear with an open mouth. Frodo was always hungry for Peony, and their mouths remained locked, boldly exploring each other, as he turned to pull her even closer, his hands settling on her bare bottom and squeezing softly. Frodo ground his hips forward and when their kiss broke they both moaned.

"Frodo," she gasped. "I'm so ready for you."

"Are you, my Peony?" he asked, moving a hand to the golden curls between her legs. "Not sleepy now, are you? Oh, no, you are indeed ready. Were you waiting for this all night, while we read about adverbs and adjectives? All the time you were there beside me, were you all hot and wet for me?" he teased, fingers playing as Peony's head fell back and she sighed with pleasure.

More kisses as they clutched each other, Peony wresting Frodo's jacket and waistcoat off, dropping them to the floor. When she pulled back a little to work at his shirt buttons, Frodo played with the pert nipples on her small, round breasts, laughing when she gasped and lost track of what she was doing.

"If you don't stop, we'll never get anywhere," she scolded, pushing his hands away, but then Frodo merely lowered his mouth to her breasts instead, and tormented her with his tongue and teeth instead.

"You shouldn't place so much temptation before a hobbit, my dear. Sitting there so demurely all night, as though your breasts weren't peeking out of that bodice, just waiting for me," Frodo replied before crushing his mouth to hers again, his tongue exploring as his hands roved over her body. "Mine, all mine. Every curve, every inch of this sweet beauty." He lifted her onto the kitchen table.

"Yours, only yours Frodo -- oh!" she cried as he bent over and plunged between her legs, his tongue working. "Frodo, yes please..." Her voice dropped away into a long moan, and when he began to play with fingers and tongue, only grunts were heard in the kitchen.

The firelight turned Peony's skin reddish gold, beautiful enough that Frodo wanted to touch every inch of it. He ripped off the rest of his clothes and pulled her toward him, spreading her sturdy legs wide and moving between them. She was ready, and he was aroused to the point of pain now.

"Take me in, Peony. Only me, now."

"Yes, only you Frodo... Oh, Lady!" she swore as Frodo's engorged member slowly sank into her, savoring the heat and softness. He pushed and circled, moving until he was totally engulfed and leaning over her on the table. Then he licked at a nipple and enjoyed the scream and the way her body clutched around him.

"Now, Peony." His hands moved from the table beside her to her breasts, fingers opening to hold the erect nipples and squeeze at them as he pulled back and thrust inside her. Frodo kept a slow, lazy pace, enjoying the wild look in Peony's eyes.

"Frodo, please. More. Faster."

"But I like to be gentle with you, Peony. Isn't that what a hobbit lass wants, a gentlehobbit who treats her right?"

"No, Frodo, you know what I want. Please," she moaned, and it became a scream when he viciously pinched her nipples and thrust even harder.

"You want a lout who'll use you and leave you, one who'll knock you up and abandon you like trash, right?" he gasped between powerful thrusts. "Shall I go fetch Lotho? Or can I be enough like him to please you?"

"I want you, only you," she sobbed.

"Should I tie you down, and let all the Bucklanders have a turn? Or would it be best if they all just watched me do this to you?" he taunted. "Watch you beg me for more like a little slut."

"Yes, yes oh Lady yes!" Peony convulsed around him, her orgasm, as always, brought on by the pain of his words more than by pleasure, though Frodo always worked to give her pleasure, too. "Frodo, I love you," she sobbed, tears mingling with sweat on her face.

Frodo's thrusts slowed now, became lazy and gentle again, and his hands soothed her breasts before he dropped kisses on her nipples. Frodo worked now for his own completion, Peony moving into his thrusts and moaning, her body completely relaxed.

When his rhythm sped she tightened on him again, and Frodo pulled out of her quickly, crying out as his release spurted onto her belly.

"I love you, too, Miss Stillwater," he whispered, leaning forward for a sweet, gentle kiss.

Her arms came up around him and they remained entwined as the fire crumbled to embers.



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