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They really only do it because Bofur can't keep his damned mouth shut.
Dwalin's powerful hips are canting into the miner's, hands grasping his ribs and thighs in a grip that will darken his tanned and dirty skin with bruises and Bofur is keening, back bowed and rutting against the cool air, loud enough that even across the expanse of the meadow where the other's are sleeping, his cries echo and they stir.
Dwalin wants to get a hand over that mouth, wishes he could fuck his throat and his ass at the same time, but Balin solves the problem of the noise by stepping up from where he had been leaning on a tree with his pipe, watching the scene before him. He unlaces his breeches and presents his member to Bofur's tongue.
He's half hard from lazily palming himself against the tree and he gives Bofur a gentle smile when the miner's tongue finds his cock and draws him in. The elder son of Fundin sighs with the wet heat and the choked moans Bofur still managers around his cock. He gets his hand in the younger's braids and tugs him forward, lets his brother's forceful thrusts drag Bofur's body between their cocks.
Bofur whines and twitches between the brothers, thick strings of saliva dripping from his mouth around Balin's cock when he draws away. He moans when he can catch a gasp of breath, sobs as Dwalin picks up speed, fucking him harder between the two.
Dwalin is growling, low and rumbling as he pistons into Bofur's greedy and willing body. Balin's gentle sighs have turned into groans, hand tightening over Bofur's braids, and for a moment the brother's are almost fighting over him, both wanting to be buried in his body, and as he takes Balin to the root, the head of his thick cock knocking the back of his throat, Dwalin buries himself in Bofur's ass, hips flush with with Bofur's cheeks, and Bofur sobs between them and spills himself on the grass without ever needing touched.
Dwalin finishes next, with a snarl and a sinking of teeth into the miner's shoulder, and Balin is more leisurely with it, fucking Bofur's mouth with slow and measured strokes until he finally spends his release down the younger dwarf's throat.
They don't kiss, never kiss, but morning finds the three wrapped around one another like a cocoon, lazy and sated smiles on their faces.