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It is the first time they share of each other and it takes only an hour before Thorin is undone. He hides his face in the crook of his arm once they’ve both managed to catch their breath and it takes Bilbo a bit of effort to draw him back out and explain why he’s upset. Red-faced and unable to meet his lover’s eye, he apologizes profusely. It’s been a long time and it doesn’t normally end that quickly for him and it will be better next time. Bilbo only laughs in relief, gives the embarrassed dwarf a sloppy kiss and drags him off for a bath where it is then explained the differences of hobbits and dwarves in regards to intimacy.
“You are like Men, then?”
“As I’ve never lain with a Man, I couldn’t say for certain,” Bilbo responds with a twinkle in his eye, “But we certainly don’t last as long as dwarves if that’s what you mean.”
Thorin gives him a pinch for his cheek and pulls the hobbit closer, nuzzling at the join of neck and shoulder. Bilbo’s skin is soft and damp, smelling of soap and minerals from the bath. He’s not certain where they go from here as far as bed play as he’s never lain with a Man either. It was something only briefly mentioned to him as he approached his coming of age, the differences of dwarves and men when it came to the pleasures of the flesh (there was no need to discuss the differences between dwarves and elves because ew).
When he gives voice to his thoughts, Bilbo only smiles and assures him that he can be creative. Thorin isn’t sure if the wicked grin the hobbit sports is a comfort or a worry.
In the days that follow, Bilbo is secretive and playful. His smiles, though still warm, take on the hint of mischief. He touches the dwarf more frequently, even somewhat inappropriately on occasion, leaving Thorin surprised and red-faced under his beard. And the kisses they share-- oh, the kisses. Before, it wasn’t unusual for them to share a quick peck on the cheek or a sweet press of lips in between council sessions or meals. Now, though. Now his hobbit leaves him breathless and wanting, darting away just as Thorin brings his hands up to draw him closer. With a lick on his reddened lips and a wink, Bilbo wishes him well before jauntily moving the opposite direction.
And yet he has not made a reappearance in his chambers. Every invitation has so far remained unanswered and it’s both frustrating and confusing him in equal parts. He tries to inquire as to Bilbo’s absence in the evenings, but he clearly has underestimated his little love’s ability to misdirect as every parting leaves him with questions unanswered and his frustration only growing further.
After nearly a week of this behavior, Thorin has had quite enough corners Bilbo in the library instead of attending the afternoon council. The hobbit, though a bit surprised to find himself pinned to the wall between a pair of tall shelves, is sporting that little twinkle in his eye again that makes Thorin feel as if he is the one caught instead.
“I think maybe I’ll stop by this evening after dinner if you feel up to a visit, my dear king? Bilbo asks before Thorin can even voice his question. The dwarf’s jaw hangs open for a moment before he manages to gather himself.
“Are you certain I should expect a visit? I haven’t seem to be fit company for you since our last evening shared.” He can’t quite keep the growl out of his voice, though he tries.
“Oh, don’t pout. I said I would come by this evening and I will.”
And then Bilbo is devouring his mouth as nimble hands slip between the folds of his court attire, brushing teasingly against his skin. A shudder travels up his spine as nails scrape across his chest and he just manages to swallow down a groan.
And then Bilbo slips beneath one of his arms and disappears between the rows. Thorin remains panting there for a moment, forcibly gathering his wits together when he hears Balin calling his name in that disappointed tone (one that often came when Thorin—and later Dwalin and Frerin—were caught after one of many pranks played against stuffy guild leaders and council members).
His old friend doesn’t seem to notice the tension that wraps Thorin like a cloak at least as he sits through the remainder of the afternoon council session, barely managing to give the matters brought up his full attention.
He has half a mind to skip dinner entirely when he notes the hobbit’s absence. But doing so would raise questions he has no inclination to answer, so he forces himself to eat though he doesn’t even taste the meal (he feels somewhat guilty as their chefs work hard to make the rations they’re still on palatable). Once he’s eaten and socialized enough to be considered acceptable, Thorin retires for the night.
The walk to his chambers seems to take far longer than it normally does, a low-burn that has been steadily increasing over the week felt deep in his belly. He inhales deeply as he grips the handle to his chamber door, uncertain what awaits him on the other side.
Nerves sufficiently steadied, he pushes open the door. And stops on the threshold.
The room is empty.
The handle creaks dangerously in his grip and he fears somewhere in the back of his mind that he might just be going a little mad as his vision fills with a haze. He vaguely recognizes the sound of the door slamming behind him as he marches towards the bath chamber, stripping as he marches with a growl deep in his throat.
He and the hobbit will be having words on the morrow.
As he enters the room however, he halts in surprise to find Bilbo leaning back against the rim of the inlaid tub, eyebrow raised as Thorin stares.
“And what’s got you in such a foul mood then?” he asks, wading forward to lean on his elbows on the other side of the pool, “Nothing too serious I hope. I did have plans for us this evening after all.”
Thorin’s jaw flaps uselessly a few times before he gives himself a shake and moves forward to join him in the bath.
“It’s nothing,” he mutters as he slides into the hot water, his foolishness banking some of the earlier burn.
Bilbo gives him a considering look as his ears heat under the scrutiny, certain he’s being read like an open book. However, if Bilbo reaches a conclusion, he doesn’t remark on it. Instead, the hobbit moves closer, hands skimming over the surface as moves slowly through the waist-high water. His eyes darken with promise and Thorin can’t bring himself to look away, mouth suddenly gone dry.
A hand reaches up, fingers running through his beard and Bilbo leans up to draw him into a kiss. Lips brush sweetly against his own, once, then twice before all he feels against the tender skin is the warm breath of the hobbit.
“Will you let me please you?” Bilbo whispers quietly, words like feathers against his lips.
“You already please me, but if that is your desire, you may,” his voice is hoarse with want. He could not deny Bilbo anything at this point.
Bilbo smirks a bit, other hand sliding up the firm skin of his stomach to play with the thick whorls of hair on his chest.
“Oh, it is very much my desire, my king.”
Bilbo leans back, smile playful as his hands move to his shoulders, stroking down the dwarf’s arms to take both his hands. He steps lightly backwards, pulling Thorin to the center of the tub before coming to a halt. He releases one hand, taking the other in both and bringing the hand to his face. Delicate kisses are placed on each fingertip, a little nip given to his pinky. Thorin inhales sharply as Bilbo then takes the entire finger into the wet heat of his mouth.
Bilbo’s tongue traces up one side of the finger and then the next, curling and writhing against it. The hobbit smiles wickedly around his finger as Thorin moans quietly. And then he sucks and Thorin can’t hold back the murmur of Bilbo’s name anymore, other hand twitching at his side for something to grip.
With a final lick, Bilbo releases his prize and pulls Thorin to one of the bench seats at the edge of the tub. The water is shallower here, only coming up to Thorin’s calves so to allow him to cleanse himself before a relaxing soak in the deeper end of the pool. He presses the dwarf to sit, giving the back of his knuckles a kiss once Thorin is settled.
“Perhaps you’ll allow me to indulge in a hobbit fancy?” he asks as kneels before the dwarf, one hand tracing the outside of his calf.
“Of course.”
Bilbo smiles warmly at him in response before turning his attention to the ankle he’s now gripping. He gently lips the foot above the water, pressing kisses to the toes before nosing at his instep. It’s a bit odd to Thorin, watching Bilbo caress and nuzzle his foot, but he supposes it would be rather natural to a hobbit to treasure a loved one’s feet.
As Bilbo tongues between his toes and starts nipping at his heel, it starts to become less odd and more erotic. He starts to pant a bit as his foot is lavished, watching as the hobbit begins pressing kisses up his calf, hands following in a caress to his knee. Teeth nip at the tender skin around the sides of the joint, tongue darting out to dip into the softer skin at the back of his leg. Thorin grips the edge of the seat a bit harder, trying not to squirm. The light touch is almost ticklish and he doesn’t want to break the spell of arousal Bilbo has begun to inflame.
One last kiss is pressed to his knee before Bilbo turns and repeats the process on his other leg, adding little sucks in between the nips and kisses. He pauses after a kiss to the top of his knee, hands sliding up and down both calves as he smiles reverently up at Thorin.
“Thank you for allowing me this.”
Thorin brings a hand up to brush through riotous curls, tracing the curve of his jaw to rest on a plump cheek.
“You need never ask again. I…I enjoyed it. Very much, actually.”
Bilbo beams and turns his head to press a kiss to Thorin’s palm.
“I’m glad. But perhaps we should move on to the bedroom before we end up looking like dried grapes.” Bilbo holds up his hands in emphasis, his fingers having begun to wrinkle.
“But we didn’t wash.”
“No, we didn’t, “he agrees as he stands with a laugh, pulling Thorin to his feet as well, “But I have more plans yet and we’ll only get dirty again anyway.”
They climb out of the tub, the hobbit turning the crank to release the water as they exit. Thorin doesn’t get far before Bilbo takes his hand, leading him over to the mirror. The polished surface takes up the quarter of one wall, clever vents in the floor and ceiling keeping the surface mostly free of steam.
“Wait here while I grab a towel, okay?” the hobbit asks, darting over to a stack of fresh linens.
“I can—“he starts to insist as Bilbo makes his way back over.
“I know, “he interrupts, eyes turning heated as he comes to stand before him once again, “But I want you to watch as I do it.”
Thorin can’t argue with that.
Bilbo starts with his hair, gathering up sections to rub between the cloth in his hands. He combs through each section carefully with his fingers, clearing out the largest tangles. Thorin can’t help but stare as those small hands brush through his hair. He’s rarely allowed anyone this privilege, not even his family (not since before the dragon came, when his mother would take the time to brush and braid his hair, a morning ritual he still treasures greatly in his memories). Watching Bilbo take such care with it pleases him greatly.
“You’re supposed to be watching the mirror, Thorin,” Bilbo remarks, smiling impishly as he finishes the last section of hair.
“I know, but this also gives me pleasure.” He takes one of the hobbit’s hands, kissing the back of his fingers as he shares a warm smile.
“Hmph. Eyes forward, stubborn dwarf.”
With smirk and a last kiss to those talented fingers, Thorin releases the hobbit’s hand and faces the mirror.
Bilbo gathers the hair and moves it over one shoulder before returning to his drying. He works down one arm, carefully patting and rubbing the damp skin. Then he follows the same path with his mouth, tongue dipping into the hollows of muscle, teeth nipping at taught skin, kisses reverently pressed to his palm. The dwarf watches Bilbo map out his body in this way, focusing on the heated touch against skin as each part of him is explored and lavished. Bilbo gives special attention to the scars on his torso, sucking and nosing at the knotted tissue, leaving Thorin shuddering at their sensitivity.
Bilbo looks up at him from his place on the floor, eyes dark and heated as hands smooth up his legs to the join of thigh and hip.
“I’m going to explore here for a bit, but I want you to keep watching the mirror, okay?”
Thorin swallows hard, nodding after a moment. He’s hard—has been so since nearly walking through his chamber door—and he’s been aching for this moment.
He forces his eyes to remain on the mirror as Bilbo’s hands move slowly inward, nails scraping in the hollow of his hip before brushing through the curls at his base. He takes a deep breath, trying to relax. He’s desperately afraid of ruining everything at the first touch, still embarrassed from their first joining.
His name on Bilbo’s lips draws his eyes back down again.
“It’s okay, Thorin. The whole point is to give you pleasure.”
He really shouldn’t be surprised at how easily his hobbit can read him anymore.
“What of your plans?”
“They will keep if they must. There will be other times.”
A warm smile and a kiss to his hip is all it takes to relax him again after that. He smiles back before turning again to the mirror.
He’s still not quite prepared when Bilbo dives right in and takes his crown into his mouth, knees buckling for half a moment before he recovers. His hands go to the hobbit’s shoulders as his lungs suck in deep breaths, muttering lowly to himself over someone being a little over-eager. He’s almost positive that the relentless sucking that follows his Bilbo’s retort.
He tries to be mindful of his grip, not wanting to hurt his hobbit, but he’s not certain there won’t still be some bruising later. Liquid fire runs up his spine as Bilbo takes more of him into his mouth, a hand gripping him at the base and squeezing while the other fondles his stones. He bites his lip as Bilbo drags his tongue along the underside as he pulls back, sucking on the crown once again while giving him a few good strokes with his hand. He gasps out Bilbo’s name as the hobbit moves from his stones to his entrance, prodding gently with a finger. He tries to keep his eyes glued to the mirror, tries to keep Bilbo’s request in mind, but it feels like his brain is starting to ooze out his ears a bit, especially when Bilbo hums around his cock.
Bilbo pulls free with an obscene pop and a smack of lips, stroking his hand a bit more firmly around his shaft as he continues to prod at his entrance.
“Mmm, ready for more or would you like to keep going at this a bit longer?”
“I… whatever you…” He’s struggling a bit to pull his thoughts together. Bilbo presses a kiss on the underside of his crown, not helping a bit.
“I’m perfectly content with either, love,” each word emphasized with a kiss down his shaft until Bilbo is nosing at his curls.
“More!” he finally manages to gasp out, panting a bit to get his breath back as Bilbo eases off, “Please, just a bit more.”
“All right,” Bilbo grins, easing up to his feet and kissing Thorin sweetly before taking his hand again, “But perhaps a change in position so that we might spare my poor knees.”
They relocate to the empty tub, Thorin seated on the edge and Bilbo standing in empty basin. Thorin runs a hand through Bilbo’s curls, trying not to yank as Bilbo licks and sucks up and down his shaft, hands giving his backside an occasional firm squeeze.
The dwarf can’t quite bite back the whimper when Bilbo tongues at his slit, the king’s head falling back as his toes curl in pleasure.
“Do you--,” and he has to swallow down a groan when fingers start to tease at the crease of his ass, “do you not wish to seek your own pleasure as well?”
“Oh, I will eventually, have no worry of that,” the hobbit responds with a smirk and a nip at the hollow of his hip, “And there’s plenty of pleasure to be had here in the meantime.”
Thorin’s hips begin to thrust forward a bit as Bilbo takes him into his mouth again, little sounds escaping as the hobbit continues to take him in a bit at a time. And then the hobbit swallows and Thorin’s voice cracks on a wordless shout, bending himself nearly in half above Bilbo as colors burst behind his eyelids.
Hands soothe over his thighs as he gulps down air and manages to right himself again, the bright flame of pleasure banking to a gentle heat. He releases the tight hold he has on his lover’s hair, smoothing through it in apology. Bilbo gives his thighs a gentle squeeze: apology accepted.
He’s given a few more breaths and then Bilbo begins to bob his head, stoking the flames of arousal at a steady pace. Nimble fingers tease and caress while Thorin begins to murmur nonsense, sparks traveling like a river up his back, a warm tingle at the base of his skull. He’s never had someone show him such care before. Past experiences with others had not been poor necessarily (he can remember a few extremely pleasurable couplings even), but he’s never felt so treasured—so loved—by another as he does now and it warms him deeply.
“Bilbo.” The words are hoarse, throat tight with want. He craves more, so much more from his little love.
Bilbo seems to understand, pulling off and pressing a few more kisses to his hip before wordlessly raising his hands up in a request for assistance. Thorin clambers to his feet, taking Bilbo’s hands and easily lifting him out of the tub.
He cups the hobbit’s face before leaning in for a tender kiss, whispering Bilbo’s name over and over with each caress. Lips part and they drink deeply of each other, breath heavy between them when they part.
“I need you, Bilbo,” he says, their foreheads pressed together, brushing his thumbs over those plump cheeks.
“Okay. Bedroom—let’s…okay.” And his hobbit is tugging him along, a bit more hurried than before. Thorin can understand the urgency. The air feels charged, molten.
The bed’s already been turned down, Bilbo thinking ahead no doubt. Bless his clever hobbit. Thorin pulls him back for another heated kiss before climbing onto the bed and lying back against the pillows piled at the headboard. Bilbo stares at him dazedly before hurrying to follow, crawling across the mattress to his side and meeting him for another urgent kiss.
He moans into the other’s mouth as hands slide down his chest to caress at his nipples, fingers rolling the pebbled flesh between them. Bilbo moves to press open-mouthed kisses to his neck, nibbling at the apple before tonguing briefly at the hollow of his collarbone and down his chest. Thorin grips the bedclothes tightly in his fists as the hobbit laves the peaked flesh of his nipple with tongue and teeth, then repeating the same for the other.
“More, oh more Bilbo,” He’s babbling a bit, but he can’t wait any longer. Bilbo’s been tending him for a few hours now, a slow sweet burn that is now a raging inferno inside him. He thinks briefly that he should be embarrassed that it’s still far less time than he ought to be able to manage, but loses the thought when Bilbo sucks at one of his sensitive scars again.
His legs fall open as Bilbo slips further downward, the two groaning as he settles in the cradle of his hips. They press together, Thorin close to just rutting up against his hobbit at this point.
Bilbo pulls away before he gives into the temptation, pressing a hard kiss before moving over to the bedside table for the pot of oil. Thorin pants heavily, trying to calm as Bilbo crawls back over, kneeling between his legs again.
Bilbo gives his thigh a soothing pet as oiled fingers trace down to his entrance, gently smoothing and prodding at the puckered flesh. Thorin’s head falls back as he tries to keeps his breathing steady. Wet kisses against his thigh help to distract him a bit as the first finger gently presses in. He’s a bit looser than he might have been before the extended foreplay, but Bilbo will still need to open him carefully.
Ever careful, the finger curls and dips as the hobbit explores him, easing gently inside. Bilbo croons as he slowly works him open, giving his cock a few strokes with his other hand. The loving intrusion doesn’t burn, not yet anyway, and he takes deep breaths as he tries to relax.
“Alright so far?”
He groans an affirmative, nodding just to make sure he’s clearly understood. He clenches down on the finger for a moment, Bilbo gasping quietly in response. The finger crooks up, searching out that place inside him that will bring him to ruin.
“More…”
“You’re certain?” Bilbo asks, eager but not wishing to rush.
“Yes, please. More, my sweet Bilbo.”
A tender smile and the finger is withdrawn, returning a moment later with more oil and a second finger is pressed in slowly with the first. It burns a bit this time, but not terribly and Bilbo works him again, curling and scissoring his fingers as he works them deeper inside.
Thorin gives a few experimental thrusts down on to his fingers, trying to judge his readiness for a third when Bilbo crooks his fingers just so and sparks burst in his vision. His clever burglar has found his prize at last. With a pleased grin, Bilbo prods him again, then a third time as Thorin thrusts up into his fisted hand. The dwarf grits his teeth, taking deeper breaths as Bilbo continues to tease him. After several more prods, he growls for a third.
Bilbo retreats with a lick of his lips and then three fingers are pressing into him. Thorin gulps down air, it’s a bit uncomfortable now but still not painful. He just needs to breathe and relax, silently repeating the order in his head as Bilbo works to stretch him further. The air whooshes out of him when lips close around his crown and begin to suck, Thorin only barely stopping himself from thrusting up in desperate need of more.
Thankfully Bilbo releases his cock right before be prods at him again as Thorin is unable to stop himself from thrashing wildly on the bed. It’s all nearly too much and he needs his hobbit now, oh now Bilbo, now now now…!
Apparently he’s babbling again because Bilbo’s fingers withdraw, his shaft given one more pump before Bilbo is kneeling back to generously coat himself. He leans up, devouring Thorin in a searing kiss before settling back between his legs and guiding himself gently in.
The burn as Bilbo presses in is everything in that moment, his entire world sharpened to himself and his dearest love. It’s nothing at all like their first joining, fumbling together over the newness of their coupling and burning too hot too fast with the desperate need for completion. This is like the banked warmth of the hearth, the heated glow of the coals of the forge. This is a love and surrender like he’s never known it before. In no time at all, Bilbo is fully seated within him and he feels almost like weeping he’s so overwhelmed by it.
Bilbo is gasping above him, eyes glazed as a hand grasps desperately for his own, holding tightly as he tries to adjust to the tight heat of his dwarf. Thorin brings the hand to his lips, kissing the fingers again and again until Bilbo smiles gratefully and nods. He’s still uncertain how Bilbo has managed to stave off his own pleasure for this length of time, but never let it be said his hobbit doesn’t continue to amaze him.
A few breaths between the two of them and then Bilbo gives a tiny thrust to test the waters. They’re both moaning a bit with the slide of flesh, but a consensus is reached and Bilbo keeps going, increasing the depth and speed a bit more each time. Thorin is panting at the sweet burn of the joining, thrusting down to meet his hobbit a few times as the pleasure builds between them.
Bilbo hikes one of his legs up a bit, trying for a better angle as his thrusts speed up. Thorin wraps it carefully around the hobbit’s waist in hopes to relieve him of some of the weight. His love isn’t weak, but dwarves aren’t light either. A grateful squeeze on his calf assures him it helps.
A few more angled thrusts and Bilbo finally strikes gold, sending Thorin reeling back into the bedding with a shout. The hobbit thrusts deeper, aiming for that spot, striking true more often than he doesn’t. Thorin feels as if he’s being devoured by heat, back arching as he burns from within. Bilbo is babbling his name, taking him in hand and pumping in time with the thrusts that press deeper and harder with every cry.
The noise of their love making starts to fade in his ears as the inferno builds inside him towards a crescendo. He’s nearly shrieking out his pleasure at this point, clawing at the bedding in desperate need of an end.
And when the end comes, it’s in a rush of fire in his blood and silence in his ears and stars in his eyes. He’s being broken and remade beneath a hammer strike of pleasure, backed bowed as he spills in ropey streaks across his stomach.
He vaguely feels Bilbo press further into his pleasure-soaked body, hips pressed tight against him before jackknifing with a cry of Thorin’s name and the warmth of heat as he finds his own ruin. The hobbit collapses into the mess on his front, panting and shaking as he comes down from the flames.
His own limbs twitching, he manages to drag the hobbit up further, Bilbo’s face nestling into the crook of his neck and pressing a light kiss to damp skin. Thorin turns his head to press his own kiss into bronze curls before settling back to wait for his limbs to feel less like one of Bilbo’s delightful puddings.
“Well. That was certainly enjoyable.”
Thorin snorts.
“Oh, do you disagree my dearest king?” Bilbo pokes a finger into his chest for emphasis.
“On the contrary. I feel it to be quite an understatement in fact.” Thorin smirks down at his hobbit, bumping their heads together in playfulness. Bilbo’s answering smile is a delight and a treasure and Thorin can’t quite resist tasting it on his lips.
“Though I can’t help but feel that I failed to perform as I should. There should have been several more hours in me yet and yet I only lasted a few.”
Bilbo laughs at his grousing, playfully swatting his chest.
“That was the point, Thorin! Why do you think I spent a whole week riling you up?”
A pause and a blink, he finds himself suddenly quite unable to respond. Bilbo rolls his eyes.
“Good heavens, waiting a few hours to have you nearly did me in you ridiculous dwarf. At least this way I don’t have to take naps between rounds.”
“You mean—“ he starts, finally finding his words.
“Yes, dearest. That was all part of my plan. Honestly, what did you think I was teasing you for? Do you know how many cold baths I’ve taken this week?” Bilbo snarks and gives a little stretch against his side before rolling for the edge of the bed.
“Now let’s clean up, all that effort’s left me exhausted and I’ve got an early day tomorrow.”
Thorin isn’t certain he can quite stand on his own yet and says as much as he pulls himself to the edge after him. Bilbo only huffs good-naturedly and pulls him to his feet.
Thorin halts him for a moment before he can march into the bathroom, catching both cheeks in his palms and kissing the breath out of his hobbit.
“Thank you for tonight, my love. You have shown me much care and I love you dearly for it,” he murmurs into the shared breaths between them.
“And I love you, so it was certainly worth the effort,” Bilbo responds with his sweetest smile yet before tugging him into the bathroom behind him.
The warm glow that smile brings burns gently inside him. He won’t worry any longer now. He knows he’s in good hands with his hobbit. They’ll just have to keep being creative.