Written for the Ship Meme prompts Smut and UST.
A pleasure deferred is all the sweeter when it arrives, beloved.
If Frodo had said that to Sam once, he'd said it an hundred times, usually while he had Sam's wrists tied to the headboard with silken cords and a cock ring or pleasure beads tormentingly in place. But there were other, subtler tortures he employed, such as arousing Sam at the dinner table in front of their unsuspecting guests with a sensuous glide of silken foot hair up the back of his calf, or a beringed white hand resting intimately between his thighs, creating a delicious ache that had no outlet. Or sometimes simply watching Sam go about his work in the garden, stripping him naked with nothing but those wicked blue eyes, caressing and arousing him to the point of madness, all the while he sat demurely on a bench with a book or pipe in hand.
Oh, the ability of Frodo Baggins to defer pleasure knew no bounds - and Sam thanked Eru for it every day. Because Frodo was right: when the pleasure finally arrived it was sweeter than honey dripping from the comb, sharper than a woodsman's axe, and more blinding than the mid-day Sun.