The
CupHoard
Author: wanderingsmith
April 2014
Summary: Spoon-pantry quickie (i.e. self-indulgent crack!smut :D)
..with a side of Lobelia!torture
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to
pay me for this. As it is thought, so let it be said; you make the
toys, I play with 'em.
AN: you can thank the comment exchange with
Bofursunboundbraids here
http://archiveofourown.org/comments/8604550
and overtherisingstar for sanity!checking the first draft :)
-s-e-x-s-e-x-s-e-x-s-e-x-
WARNING -s-e-x-s-e-x-s-e-x-s-e-x-
"*Why* in Thranduil's dank realm are you accepting an invitation
from that witch??"
"Because you don't like my touching my ring, anymore. This is
perfect for getting my silverware back."
"You are attending a party so you can steal your silverware? Is she
not going to expect you to try this?"
"Of course. But it's a big party and a long one. Sooner or later
she'll be forced to look away. And then it's one quick sneak and
what is mine will be mine again!" Bilbo's grin was evil itself,
anticipating the pleasure of Lobelia's dismay.
He entirely missed Thorin's own brief smirk.
------------
As soon as he heard the outraged cry of Lobelia's grandmother trail
in from the garden, Bilbo knew he had his moment. He casually set
his glass of punch on the nearest table, shook his head at Will's
foolishness at still trying to argue best manure with Hamfast, and
strolled off to the canary-yellow round door not far away. He
clenched his teeth when he felt the wall of heat suddenly following
him and muttered over his shoulder, "You are *not* burglar material,
'your majesty'!"
All he got in response was a quiet chuckle.
At least he couldn't hear his husband's metal-studded clodhoppers;
the dwarf was, as a matter of fact, no louder than the noisiest
hobbit.
Stepping through the door as casually as any invited guest would, he
was glad to find no one wandering the kitchen and stepped a little
quicker to the carved door to his greedy cousin's silverware
*pantry*. All four feet deep of it.
He gave the handle a try even as he reached in his pocked for his
trusty old pick, ignoring the surprised grunt from behind him when
it opened the door as easily as a certain clunky key had unlocked
Erebor.
Putting his tool away safely, he heard the dwarf that had a literal
*mountain* of gold exclaim barely quietly enough, "Mahal! How many
spoons does she *have*??"
Slipping into the barely hobbit-sized space between the shelves to
start looking for his property, Bilbo replied absently, "Looks like
she's managed to steal from almost everyone in the West Farthing, at
the least." He darted a hand behind a box *full* of what looked like
*Brandyhall* cutlery though, and found his set, held together with a
strip of leather.
"Aha!" he crowed, smirking at his stolen goods. 'Bare on the shelf!'
an insulted voice that sounded like his father muttered at the back
of his mind.
Thorin snorted behind him, "Why do I suddenly feel supplanted in
your affections, husband?"
Bilbo turned and looked at the amused king lounging back against the
re-closed door, absently wondering how the light gilding the grey in
his dark hair was getting in the room, his pulse skittering happily
with both victory and the very attractive picture his dwarf was
presenting.
"I rescued *you* from and *elvish prison*, husband."
Thorin's smirk softened, "So you did. I would wish we had had more
time then that I could watch you looking so flushed with victory."
Closing the bare foot of space between them, Bilbo first slid his
recovered spoons into the inside pocket of his husband's
dwarven-style shirt, and then crossed his arms on his teasing
co-conspirator's chest, "And what would you have done with me, my
king?" He didn't wait for the verbal answer to cover his love's lips
with his, though, he'd had his own wishes after that little
escapade...
Already excited from the risk they were taking in the midst of their
so quiet extended visit to the Shire, he pressed on the
not-remotely-resisting lips, forcing them open and darting his
tongue in. Feeling the familiar pleasure of his dwarf's rough beard
dig into the soft skin around his mouth, hunting for and finding a
long, rough tongue that knew just how to twist around his own; and
other things of his. Faintly feeling a hand slide into the curls at
the back of his head, closing nonexistent space between them, and
then another wide palm roughly and quickly running over his back and
buttocks and legs; kneading, scratching and otherwise making even
more blood rush through his veins.
Oh what he'd rather have in his mouth right now! He sucked that
tongue hard, grinding himself against proof that he wasn't the only
one feeling like a teen from the danger. Revelling in the choked
grunt the actions got him. Continuing to ravage tongue and teeth and
mouth and lips, rocking his hips hard, Bilbo quite suddenly
registered the rough cloth of his smalls grating on him.
And remembered the gauntlet of curious hobbit party goers that their
clothes had to pass to get out of here and he groaned, pulling back
to hide his lips in Thorin's open collar. "We can't-" he had to stop
for breath, "I am *not* walking out of here with spend soaking my
pants."
"Here-" the gasp was followed by the dwarf's body jerking under his
until he felt something smooth push into his shoulder and looked up.
Seeing the little bottle of oil his sneaky, and suspiciously docile
husband was holding up, Bilbo gave him an incredulous look, "There
is no room to swing a baby warg in here, let alone fuck a dwarf as
he should be." No matter how much he needed to do just that!
He stiffened to resist temptation at the familiar lust that
slackened his king's severe lips before he leaned too close for
Bilbo to see them. The hobbit downright shuddered when those lips
whispered against his far too blasted sensitive ear tips, "I am
certain you will think of something, my burglar."
It'd been a long while since Bilbo had been able to resist a
challenge. Let along Thorin.
----------------------------
Sipping the last of his mead and debating between another piece of
strawberry pie or Bilbo's famous squash cake, Hamfast grunted as he
and Will stepped up to the dessert table, not noticing their
frowning hostess coming up behind him, "Have you seen Bilbo, Will?
Didn't notice him walking away from us."
Will smirked as he reached for his third serving of raisin pudding,
"You were too busy-"
"FUCK yes! Harder, Bilbo. Mahal please, âzyun- fuckm-
yestheredon'ts-"
Will, and Lobelia behind him, froze and Hamfast spit his mouthful of
mead over the fruit tray.
Then all three of them lifted wide eyes to the small window just
under the roof line, hearing the savage roar as clear as Buckland
horns.
----------------------------
His mouth clamped hard and suckling greedily on his husband's hard
cock, Bilbo slid his oil-slick finger without warning into the tight
channel, and felt himself swell painfully at the feel of grasping
heat rippling along his digit. 'His! This was *his*!' Choked cry in
his ears and flex of that cock on his tongue and Bilbo jerked his
elbow against the thigh too close to the arm he was trying to pump.
When that leg shifted up to rest on his shoulder, he finally had
unimpeded movement, and he *felt* (oh please- I need- let me-) the
shift in ass muscles open that sweet pucker he could (needed to)
bury himself in right now. Whining with frustration, he pulled out
to stroke at crinkled skin, ignoring the sound of a thick dwarven
head hitting the door above him, smoothing more oil and bringing a
second finger alongside the first, lifting his head enough to tongue
at the leaking slit. And then sucking his way back down as far as he
could as his fingers slid in.
Oh if they were home he'd make Thorin repeat that howl a thousand
times... Bilbo moaned, regretfully speeding the pace; sucking hard
and shifting his fingers, tongue stroking the underside as he felt
for that spot-
"FUCK yes! Harder, Bilbo. Mahal please, âzyun- fuckm-
yestheredon'ts-"
Oh that roar had been loud. And they needed to- But he needed- Bilbo
swallowed hard as he stroked his fingers out quickly, ignoring the
whimper and hip thrust and scrambling up, a feral growl escaping him
at the sight of his panting lover's slack-mouthed expression.
Fisting the stiff silk of Thorin's collar without a thought for the
material and tugging the unresisting dwarf down to his knees, he
unhesitatingly thrust his desperately tight cock between lips *he*
had kissed into that swollen state and he could not help snapping
his head back with a cry.
Too fast, too much, that molten gold feeling starting down his spine
that he could not stop no matter how great and terrible its strength
and fury and he had to move, had to feel that wet mouth stroke him
right *now*. Struggling to breathe, his head dropped and he was
caught by eyes blown black over cheeks visibly flushed with lust.
And those slack lips tightened and sucked and there were *teeth*
teasing-
..Did someone just scream? The thought was vague as Bilbo opened
unfocused eyes he didn't remember closing and felt familiar hands
holding his hips as he continued to shudder.
"We had best return to the celebration."
"Yessss." Bilbo worked at catching his breath as Thorin got up off
his knees with the effortless grace of the warrior he was and then
tidied both their clothes back up.
"You. Are gloating."
"I am." Thorin's grin got even filthier as Bilbo watched him wipe
his soaked beard on his sleeve.
And Bilbo barely resisted tackling him to the floor and damn the
lack of space and damages from jerking feet.
Bag End. Right in front of the door. That was as far as they were
going to make it. Maybe. Breathe. Must breathe.
"Any particular reason?"
"Because you growl for me, my gentle hobbit."
--------------------------
Hamfast stood a few feet from the kitchen door, hiding his smirk
behind his glass of homebrew and watching poor old Will offer pale
but already starting to mutter Lobelia a stiffener. Hamfast
personally thought that as a waste of good hooch; she was more than
stiff enough already.
His gaze eagerly flew to the kitchen door when it opened, and he had
to bite his lip to silence his laughter at the sight of Bilbo
strutting out cheerfully, looking as put together as he'd arrived,
if a mite pink.
Master Baggins' dwarf king, on the other hand, straightening once
past the low doorway, looked like nothing but the well-debauched
husband he was, for all that every article of clothing was in place
and properly fastened. Now what was it that trader had said... Ha!
'Like a well-loved Umbarian harem-boy' Beards did not hide as much
of lips and cheeks as he'd thought they would.
"How do you *dare*-"
Bilbo ignored Lobelia's purple-faced screech entirely to ask Will
about tomorrow's council meeting. But the gardener's eyes watered to
hear master Thorin cut her off to thank her for a very pleasant
party, his tone only a touch loud but very impressively bland for
someone running an already damp sleeve over his beard.
"We must have you over to Bag End soon, *cousin*." The dwarf's grin
grew teeth that Hamfast could see even ten feet away, "Though I
don't recommend coming without warning. We would not want my ways to
shock you."
Hamfast's crack of laughter could not be stopped this time. Luckily,
Lobelia had already passed out, and the shameless grins both Bilbo
and his king sent him held no objection to sharing the fun.
AN: oh, and I've
not the least idea whether there are harem's in Umbar. I did try
to have a fast look at the description of the countries, but
when the answer wasn't immediately there I shrugged and reminded
the nitpicker in my head 'Hey! CRACK!smut. who cares??'
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