Spank
Author: wanderingsmith
jul 2014
Summary: PWP smut. Thorin's mouth gets him in trouble he enjoys
far too much, though Dáin isn't without blame.
Set in Bofursunboundbraids's These Precious
Things verse, some time in the years following the
Reclaiming of Erebor
Warning: slight BDSM
Rating: NC-17
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: Written with Bofursunboundbraids
while following each other's random thoughts
Goto Chapter 2
-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-
Chapter one
Dáin smirked as he closed the heavy throne room doors behind
himself, nodding at the grateful look the guards gave him.
"They're too old to be doing such things!"
Turning to his muttering boy, whose older and formerly grumpier
namesake was so taken with his soft, pretty creature that after a
mere week apart he couldn't bear to make the short journey to
their sleeping chambers, nor even wait for his kin to leave the
room, Dáin laughed, as amused by his Stonehelm's disgust as he was
at his cousin's shameless behaviour.
He could remember a young Thorin Oakenshield being just as much of
a stiff-faced traditional dwarf, teasing and snarking at Dáin for
letting himself get frisky while courting his beautiful Ania.
Clasping his Thorin's shoulder and following Erebor's heirs to the
kitchens, Dáin wondered if he'd get away with paying back some of
that teasing. Erebor's good Master Hobbit had some odd notions of
what was acceptable. And a surprising temper.
Not to mention the king's adopted human daughter and *her*
protectiveness. It was a wonder his cousin bothered to carry that
pretty elvish blade of his at all anymore!
Might be a risky proposition, but SO worth it!
Though he'd noticed it had gotten deucedly hard to get the
grinning sod his cousin had become to get pissed...
He never would've guessed that the serious eldest son of Thráin
would one day become this besotted fool. And over a hobbit? What
the deuce? The world is not what it once was.
Then he pauses, blinking at the image of Thráin and, he shuddered,
old Thrór greeting the beguiled king and his soft, beardless
consort up in the Halls.... Mahal.. he wasn't sure if he wanted to
beg for a ring-side seat.. or ask to go to Valinor to avoid the
war.
He laughed, ignoring the assorted princes' looks; no, no he
wouldn't miss that for all the gold harps in Valinor!
--
Seeing his consort walking up with a frown for Dáin that told him
the hobbit had overheard the Iron hills king's latest attempt at
clever mocking, Thorin smiled brightly at his cousin as he made a
show out of pulling his first line of defence to him.
"I don't understand how you can be so cruel, cousin. It troubles
my-" he leaned down to drop a kiss on his scowling mate's temple,
"Loves," Bilbo's head tilting to no doubt glare at him gave him
quickly used access to nuzzle a pointed ear, "Can't you see? Do
try to keep a civil tongue in my halls, will you?"
--
He will never understand these dwarrows and their ridiculous
oneupmanship and inability to take what they dish out. Bilbo
glared at the bed through the crack in the bathing chamber door,
rude is rude, Thorin Oakenshield! I appreciate that it was in
defence of our *delicate sensibilities*, but, honestly love, you
had it coming.
It had taken a good half-hour of waiting in naked ambush after
even a long bath, but Thorin was finally snoozing. Bilbo grinned,
feeling something like battle nerves wake his senses. He slipped
his ring on and sneaked into the other room, carefully holding his
ropes so the readied slipknots did not move. And though it had
been some time since he'd had to sneak up to anything as deadly as
a dragon, he'd kept the skill sharp by trailing Dwalin and Nori
every so often.
Keeping an eye on his sprawled out as usual sleeping husband, he
got a rope around each splayed wrist and its nearby bedpost. And
then he dropped the ring on his night table and calmly climbed his
way up on the bed. And Thorin woke, slowly since Bilbo's movements
were normal, expected; desired. The hobbit managed to straddle his
dwarf's waist and reach for both ropes to pull them tight before
his game was discovered.
"Ghivashel?"
Bilbo glared, ignoring the sleepy, surprised tone. "You *know* I
don't appreciate you groping me in public to make a point at
someone. Especially a point you know very well I don't agree with!
Gloating is as bad a habit as letting your temper run your mouth.
Now, you are going to keep your hands to yourself. You need to
learn some manners! And since I can't trust you to do as you're
told," he leaned over his wide-eyed but grinning mate to grip his
rope-circled wrists, "You are going to have to suffer for it."
The word "suffer" quite obviously enticed Thorin far more than it
scared him. How ever could his hobbit make him suffer, indeed?
"Just watch, my lover," Bilbo purred as he placed kisses down
Thorin's chest, stomach, lower... that blessed cock was hard when
he reached it, and he slowly took it into his mouth, with licks
and light teeth dragging across the tip.
Thorin pulled and strained to be free, to see... and moaned
loudly, frustration and ecstasy both plain to hear, not used to
being denied.
"I don't mind a touch of public fondling," Bilbo's hand wrapped
around the tight sack below his mouth and fondled, slow and
deliberate, "When you can't resist *me*. But not," he shifted one
of Thorin's hips up slightly, his voice rising from calm whisper
to annoyed growl, "To get a rise out of one of your blasted
cousins!" With just enough room, he swung a hand down and smacked
the exposed bit of cheek.
The sting Thorin felt was absolutely delicious and he hurried to
earn himself another. "I'll have to remember to put you over *my*
knee the next time you misbehave," he taunted, slightly amazed and
entirely aroused at the thought of his so-proper mate drawn to
such risqué behaviour. Wondering how far the hobbit would take it.
Bilbo sunk his teeth into the skin off Thorin's hip and then
licked, feeling the fierce shudder of reaction, "And when do I
ever disobey, my king?" But under the teasing, he'd seen the
rather unexpected reaction Thorin was having to these little bits
of violence; and he was suddenly tempted. And it was Thorin
himself who had brought it up... Bilbo had only meant to make the
point that he didn't appreciate Thorin's childish stunts. But...
oh but to drive his brash husband to lose himself...
Thorin watched as his unmoving lover's eyes darkened, his breath
beginning to pant on Thorin's skin as they stared at each other.
And the thought of anything that would bring Bilbo to look at him
like that...
"Turn over."
Thorin's eyes widened at the breathy whisper, looking at his tied
and outstretched arms and then back at his lover.
"Turn. Over."
With a swallow, Thorin scooted high on the bed to get some slack
on the ropes, then clumsily turned from the waist until he was
laying on his stomach, arms now crossed and tight.
The contrastingly gentle fingers spreading his cheeks were a
relaxing surprise, having half expected a hard slap. The splash of
drizzled oil at his hole made him twitch, and huff, grinning into
the pillow and automatically teasing, "Someone's impatient." The
slow, firm, steady, *perfect* slide of Bilbo's slicked cock into
his unstretched but eager body pushed his hips into the bed, the
bed's pressure on his own cock and the pressure inside from
Bilbo's intrusion delicious, forcing a groan right from his belly;
barely aware of the uncomfortable position of his arms, now.
"And someone's enjoying it." Taking an instant to catch hi breath
and steady his self-control in the face of the amazing slick,
TIGHT grip on his cock, Bilbo watched the flex the heavy muscles
of Thorin's shoulders, pulled tight by those ropes. That strength
could snap him in two...
His arm swung down, hard. Feeling the sting on his palm, he
imagined it had to be worse from the other side, but he hardly had
time to care as he felt the ass he was so thoroughly making *his*
squeeze violently in response. He almost missed Thorin's shout in
the middle of the jolt of pleasure. Oh! Oh that was- He stared,
panting, at the redness blooming on that fine white skin next to
his cock.
Still staring with blown eyes, he pulled his cock out just
slightly, just enough to feel the hard stroke as he pushed back
in. He noted, just barely, the moan from the body under his, noted
the hips pushing back against him and then rocking to grind on the
bed. And with a displeased hum, he reached down and gripped those
hips, scooting forward and lifting as he muttered, "Up."
Once they were on their knees, Thorin's head resting on his hands
gripping the headboard, Bilbo rocked in and out a tiny bit more,
settling in the position, trying to ignore the lovely throaty
whine of his very own dwarf king. Then he pulled out until he was
just touching crinkled skin; asking for entry, except that there
was no resistance and he had to hold himself against the edge of
the rim to keep from sliding right back into. Then he dropped his
other arm.
The sharp crack of sound was a strange satisfaction of its own,
soothing buried temper, but the flutter of skin against his
cockhead and the pleading hip jerk trying to tempt him in were
better.
Better even was the breathless cry in a voice that never got that
high. And he thrust in hard, groaning at the clench dragging him
deeper.
There were sights he could have imagined would drive him to shake
with need all on their own, especially since he'd met the dwarf
shivering under him right this moment, but trying to keep from
finishing while he fucked his husband's ass hard and fast, he
found it more than a little hard to believe that reddened ass
cheeks could do this to him.
Feeling the swell of pleasure getting too strong, he had to pull
out, had to try to catch his breath. The wordless growl of
displeasure he got didn't help, but he had to wait, just a few
moments. Taking a supple handful in each palm, feeling twitching,
and powerful, muscles, and *heat*.
"Beautiful." Did that hungry whisper really come from him?
He squeezed gently and pulled them just a little further apart,
sliding his cock along the oiled crease just to see it laying
between that red skin. Feeling Thorin jerking at his arms, Bilbo
let go of a cheek without looking away. He couldn't say he was
thinking when he swung his arm again, wasn't *really* meting out
punishment. But it did stop his dwarf from hurting his arms.
And he could almost see his cock swelling at the breathy cry, had
to push back into the swollen hole welcoming him.
He would not last, he *could* not!
But he could feel Thorin so tightly wound around him, and he was
feeling stubborn. Instead of reaching around and tugging Thorin
over the edge, he set a steady, hard pace with his hips, one hand
on Thorin's low back and the other raised, panting for air and
listening to his mate's desperate moans. Waiting a moment to drop
it. Then switching arms even as the ragged cry echoed in their
chambers, waiting longer, eyes locked on his hand prints under
Thorin's skin, his orgasm so close he could taste it with every
thrust he gave that twitching hole.
When the third stroke hit, Thorin's body froze hard for several
beats, and then he almost screamed and his hips convulsed, and
Bilbo tried to grit his teeth and hold- And felt the wave of
pleasure rush down his back and drown him.
When he could make himself move from where he'd let himself fall
on Thorin's sweat-slick back, it caused his ever so stoic Khazad
to grunt with a definite edge of pain. Scrambling upright as
carefully as he could, Bilbo winced with him, freezing at the
sight of a *very* red bum. Oh dear. He had, perhaps, been a bit
excessive??
"Could you undo my arms, ghivashel?"
That Thorin hadn't turned himself over to relieve the pressure
rather than have to ask told Bilbo quite enough about how sore his
husband was and he hurried to undo the ropes, muttering apologies
under his breath.
Thorin turned his head to send him a satisfaction-fogged smirk,
"You've done nothing that requires apologies, my love. As a matter
of fact, I would not begrudge you some gloating."
Bilbo snorted, stopping to give the freed left wrist a kiss, "I'm
sure you wouldn't. Gloating is a very *bad* habit, husband! You
should at least *try* to control it."
Slowly rising to his knees, Thorin leaned his head forward to lay
a soft kiss on his grumbling lover's shoulder as he undid Thorin's
other wrist, "If this is what gloating gets me, I have no
intention of giving it up."
Bilbo glared at him as he watched Thorin begin to lay on his back
and then very carefully change his mind and lay on his side.
Confounded dwarf.
Nonetheless, he gave in, as usual, and lay down facing his
frustrating husband. "I'm sure Óin has some ointment that would
help."
Thorin reached for him and dragged him close, "I'm sure he does.
Knowing that husband of his, he probably has a full jar in their
rooms. If you ask him for such, however, when he sees me limp into
council he will know who it was for. And he will tell his brother.
And cousins. He might even tell *all* our cousins. So be aware of
what you are inviting."
Bilbo let his forehead rest on Thorin's breastbone as he did
indeed think it through. The teasing would spill over from Thorin
to himself, one way or another. The boys would get into it. Dáin.
Nori would *never* let it go... He groaned. On the other hand,
what kind of husband would he be if he allowed his husband to
suffer, as that poor red skin promised he would, while their
friends *still* teased, albeit only about his sexual prowess
rather than his perversions...
--
Ignoring the breakfast getting cold on his plate, Nori took full
advantage of the seat he'd chosen after Óin's cackling warning and
stared at the stiffly-moving, wincing king and the grinning,
blushing, hobbit that had just walked through the dining hall
doors; and he smirked, wondering if he could sneak a side-trip to
the Shire when he went to escort the first caravan of Durin's Folk
from the Blue Mountains to Reclaimed Erebor. *Without* Dori
tagging along. Surely there were other.. 'adventurous' hobbits.
Bilbo would no doubt like the company of a compatriot....
Dáin, already curious at the way his cousin's old Company had been
passing an obviously juicy story amongst each other, now watched
in fascination as the Consort sat down to dig into his usual
overflowing plate.. while the king remained *standing* at his
shoulder, his plate in one hand and digging into it with the
casual ease of someone having eaten around a campfire for many
years.
When their mutual cousins dragged Thorin away with evil smirks,
Dáin did not try to stop himself getting up, grabbing the remains
of his ale and walking over to take the empty seat next to the
still enthusiastically eating hobbit.
"A good morning, I take it, Master Baggins?" He smiled brightly
over the wary look of the suddenly still hobbit, "Just how do you
render my cousin incapable of sitting? You must remember, I've
seen his ass a few times over the last couple centuries, I've even
kicked it a few times; and I know it is solidly made."
The narrowing of those large, usually so friendly, eyes was hardly
threatening compared to even the mildest dwarf Dáin knew, nor the
quiet voice, "I...I don't see how that's any of your business,
your majesty."
Dáin shrugged, "I don't see what business has to do with it. I
just want to know how so small a lad as yourself can fuck a beast
such as Thorin until he is raw with pain."
Dáin's amused re-visiting of his cousin's docile pose just a few
minutes ago came to a screeching halt when Erebor's Consort jumped
up, his chair falling over behind him and a fulminating glare
suddenly landing fully on Dáin.
"YOU-" the choked snarl was a bare decibel below a shriek, but it
was the hand that Dáin saw reaching for a sword the hobbit was not
wearing that made him calmly but warily stand and take a step
back, his hands rising when the creature stalked him step for
step, "If *you* wish to share the details of your wife's prowess
in the bedchamber with your cousins, including my husband, I could
not care less, though you may be certain she will know of it. But
*you* will NOT seek to hear what passes between Thorin and I by
ANY means! Nor impinge on my king's honour before others!"
Breathing hard with his fury, Bilbo was nonetheless still in
control, still knew he had to be careful of threatening the dwarf
king foolishly; had yelled at Thorin enough for just such
foolishness... Knew, too, that he should not have reacted so
harshly to teasing he'd known would come. But to hear anyone else
discuss such things of his mate in such a tone... it had bit at
him. This was not one of their friends whose loyalty and affection
he trusted!
He dropped his voice to a whisper, though he could feel too many
eyes on them, even through the blood rushing in his ears, and knew
the room had to be far too silent to keep any words private, "Or I
WILL make you suffer, do not doubt me for a MOMENT," he bared his
teeth, not caring how un-hobbitish he was behaving, he was
*defending* his hobbitish ways! As well as the honour of *his*
dwarf. ..Perhaps he was even protecting his own and his king's
standing with this other dwarf king, all things considered. "I
know what it is to stand in the face of death, Dáin Ironfoot, to
protect what I love," his eyes flickered briefly up to Thorin's,
who he'd felt appear at his shoulder seconds after he'd begun
shouting at a guest in their home, and he saw understanding dawn
on Dáin's face. Odd that he did not know of that bit of the quest.
Bilbo did not let his glare dim, though, "Do not pry into affairs
you have no privilege to. I protect what is mine!"
The sudden clatter of Edda's feet scrambling toward them was
halted, no doubt by some quick-thinking member of the Company. And
Dáin's sardonic glance over Bilbo's shoulder, beyond Thorin, told
the hobbit well enough that the dwarrows that had destroyed his
pantry were standing ready to destroy Erebor's dining hall, should
he give any indication that he would suddenly be lenient toward
such behaviour.
Luckily, Dáin chose to give him a quick bow instead, "My
apologies, Consort, cousin. No insult was intended. My Ania has
often warned me that my curiosity would get worse than my foot cut
off, one of these days. My choice of locale and words was unwise.
It will not happen again."
"If you are so curious, cousin, I am certain Bilbo would be more
than pleased to give your luscious Ania instructions."
Chapter
Two
AN:this
redux was brought about by this
*delightful*
picture by pranksterloki
"But I was *not* gloating!"
Bilbo rolled his eyes, not pausing his growling stomp forward, one
hand pressed to Thorin's sternum; not pushing, because the king was
stepping back without encouragement. Too annoyed at having to force
a smile on his face and be sweet to that coldly arrogant wood-elf
for the last several days to bother responding to the grinning
whine. And all because a certain dwarf felt the need to snicker when
he overheard the woodland realm's dungeons' security being
mentioned.
When the back of Thorin's thighs encountered a sun-splashed boulder,
he stopped, and Bilbo took a quick glance around them to be sure
that they were at least well out of sight, even if he knew they were
still far too close to the elves' gate to be doing this... But he
was tired, annoyed at his husband, and generally grumpy, and they
still had a week of negotiations to go before he could plead having
to monitor the harvest and escape.
And Thorin was not objecting.
Was, actually, staring at him with flared nostrils and darkened
eyes, a challenge in the smirk curling his lips and in the majestic
tilt of his chin.
Letting his eyes take a slow stroll down his dwarf's
tree-trunk-thick body, Bilbo husked in the forest's quiet, "Lower
your trousers. Then turn and lean on that rock."
If he weren't such a level-headed, albeit unquestionably perverted,
hobbit, watching a proud dwarf king do his bidding, even while
standing his sword against the boulder in his usual precaution,
might turn him into a very foolish fellow indeed. As it was, Bilbo
allowed himself to get quite focused on thick fingers working the
intricate clasp on that heavy square belt buckle, and then those
same shockingly deft fingers separating and tugging at the laces of
trousers finer and tighter than his love would wear at home.
His nose twitched, annoyingly obvious, at the hip-tilt toward him
that sent the material downward, with the fine, thin, smalls
following, before being caught by a quick hand at thigh level and
kept steady, for an instant exposing a nest of coarse curls until a
rumpled tunic bottom covered it. Then, with the shuffle of dwarven
boots, that too was replaced by the view of skin that had likely
never seen the sun before as Thorin leaned forward to rest his
forearms on the stone, allowing the trousers to drop to his knees.
Stepping up and palming the pale, hairy skin of his husband's very
well-shaped ass, Bilbo pouted as Thorin's tunic fell and covered the
sight. He pulled back before grumbling, "Armour and tunic off."
He saw his dwarf stiffen and laid a hand on his shoulder, "Orcrist
is right next to your hand, love, and Sting is at my waist. There
have been no reports of orcs in the whole region in two months, and
the spiders have retreated from the wood. We are safe enough this
close to the Woodland Realm's gates." He held back the added note
that surely having his trousers around his legs would be more of an
impediment to defence than lacking his armour.
It took a few moments more, but Thorin finally nodded and silently
straightened, pulling a familiar small bottle from a hidden tunic
pocket and setting it next to Orcrist before pulling his upper
garments over his head. Laying them next to him, neatly enough to
slip into quickly, he leaned back over without acknowledging the
grateful kiss Bilbo pressed to his shoulder blade. To know that
Thorin trusted him not only in their play, but also to defend them,
that was... very good for his politics-worn soul.
Belying his awareness of the afternoon dragging them toward the
evening's further diplomatic demands, Bilbo let his hands bask in
all the lovely skin getting warmed and bronzed by the softening sun,
pulled taut over wide muscles, feeling smooth even while he could
see the hair dusting it; one of the few parts of Thorin's body that
didn't show a lifetime of damage. He sighed with sensual pleasure,
smiling in appreciation, "We should do this more often."
The wry look Thorin slanted him through the curtain of his hair made
him snort, "I meant have your lovely skin out in the warm sun for
the pleasure of my eyes."
Ignoring the low mutter of no doubt crude response, Bilbo shifted to
stand at an angle, his crotch pleasingly pressed to one ass cheek,
giving himself better access to half the flesh that had been offered
to repay his strained patience. He left one hand to its appreciation
of his husband's muscled behind, and reached the other forward,
wrapping it gently around the soft cock hanging freely in the quiet
forest, fingering it undemandingly.
Leaning down to kiss a rune inked into the middle of Thorin's back,
Bilbo breathed deep, the mid-summer-dry smell of the slowly healing
Greenwood mixed with his dwarf's darker musk. Pressing his lips to
the nearby bumps of Thorin's spine, Bilbo took a last gentle rubbing
squeeze at cheeky flesh, then dreamily raised his hand just enough
to give a barely stinging pat to the underside.
The immediate response of the cock he was still holding oh so
casually was shockingly arousing. As well as reassurance that this
was indeed something that pleased his mate, however unorthodox.
Rocking his own waking cock against its resting place, he very
slowly fisted Thorin's, listening to his breathing begin to deepen.
The fingertips of the other hand tickled at the sack hanging below
their soon-to-be-red playground. After just a few firm strokes to
the taut stretch of skin above that, Bilbo raised his hand, never
changing the speed of his fist, feeling his belly tighten in
shameful anticipation.
This time it was a definite slap, still to the meaty underside,
right on the crease hiding secrets he had every intention of
plundering, his palm stinging with the pinch of skin. Shuddering to
feel the cock in his grip go fully hard all at once, listening to
the almost shocked-sounding grunt.
He let go of the now-hard cock; whispered, breath tight in his
throat, "Bite your hand if you must, but you need to be quiet. Fine
elven ears will hear if you cry out, and come running to rescue
you." He palmed the cheek he wasn't grinding himself on, fingertips
stroking at the pinkening circle his palm had caused, "Or watch.."
And he was not willing to share this sight.
He looked up at a movement, seeing Thorin's arms shift so a wrist
lay under his parted lips. Bilbo raised his hand and dropped it
quickly, right in the middle of the exposed cheek, seeing lips close
tight on that wrist, bare hint of a cry escaping.
He slid his spread hand over that perfectly-sized hunk of flesh,
thumb sliding off into the tight crease, gliding teasingly for a
moment. As he brought his hand up again, he watched that crease
part, muscles moving under the skin. Thick, strong muscles, so
lovely. Sweetest invitation.
When his hand slapped down, fingers together rather than spread, it
was right on that pleading crevasse of skin, his fingertips grazing
the uneven surface of the sack before taping at the skin above it,
palm smacking on the edges of the mounds, right over a wrinkled
patch, and he shuddered, panting with the need to do more than tease
-soon. oh soon, yes. He didn't wait for the definite choked cry to
fade before dropping his hand again, nearly on the hip this time,
then back low on the meaty cheek, letting a finger trail again on
the now wide-open crease. Feverishly swinging his stare from red
skin glowing in the sun, to that twitching pink furl, wishing the
muffled cries were free, wanting to hear the pleasure at the bottom
of them, that it might mix with his.
This time when he slapped down in the centre, he trailed through and
stopped to stroke back and forth over that twitching bit of skin,
hazily wishing he'd drizzled some oil before they'd started, rocking
himself steadily against his rest, whining softly, mind utterly
focused on the dwarf shuddering constantly, now, and unmistakenly
pushing into Bilbo's rough touch. He was aware that he was aroused,
but it was distant, his attention locked on his mate's mixed pain
and pleasure.
Another such smack and Thorin definitely whimpered, hips tilting
desperately for contact, for more, and Bilbo husked roughly, breath
tight, "Would you finish like this? All but untouched?" he stroked
another finger, deliberately too-lightly along the crease, "You are
beautiful as you quake through your pleasure. I could watch you-"
fingers rubbed with stiff gentleness on the edge of the slowly
opening hole, his gaze hypnotized until he crouched down without
thought to lick, barely hearing the choked shout, saliva coming
quick and hungry, "I would watch you.. And then take you, all loose
and weak-" he reached from his crouch to swat at the side, more
thigh than ass, before rising, hurrying to press himself again.
Finding himself, without planning, grinding on the cheek he'd just
put much effort to make red and sore. "Take you so hard, all sore
skin and sensitive." He swatted again, aiming oh so deliberately,
moaning at the sight of that now-glistening, begging, hole. Fingers
immediately sliding in on left-behind saliva, husking as he stared
hungrily, "Is that what you wish?" Back and forth on slick,
twitching skin.
Hips pushing at his hand jerkily and he had to, absolutely HAD to
look up, up along that taut back, and shoulders and arms, head
pushing into fists; then a clenched-jawed hiss, "Yesss."
Bilbo moaned to hear that admission, making himself take a deep
breath and actually think, having already regretted once the lack of
oil. Tapping hardly-there touches with the one hand to keep the skin
aglow as he fumbled his trouser laces to free himself before
clumsily reaching for that little bottle of oil he'd long ago
decided to be grateful for rather than argue propriety with his
frequently randy, and arousing, husband. He managed to drizzle some
oil on himself and give his cock a single stroke to spread it,
whimpering softly, and then set the bottle aside.
With sharp anticipation, he drew his hand back again, bringing it
down on the still pale cheek now exposed.
Jerking so far away from the sting on untouched skin that Bilbo
almost stumbled forward from losing his lean-to, Thorin's whole body
stiffened and the pant of his breath became almost louder than most
of his bitten-off cries. Reading a plea in that unmoving arch of a
back, Bilbo set his feet and sent his hand slapping with actual
strength, low and centre, staring hungrily as muscles clenched
harder and harder, until on the fourth hard smack a rolling flinch
whipped the now distinctly red flesh away. And even a mouthful of
wrist barely kept that roar buried.
And Bilbo stumbled to stand behind directly Thorin without waiting
for him to recover, grabbed at both abused cheeks, pulling the hips
up from their weakly drooping position and parting them to rub his
oiled cock on the hidden entrance a bare few strokes before needing
to push in and feel the quivering of the muscles under his palms
from the inside, the whining cries and attempts to jerk away
ignored. "Ohhhh Mahal. So easy. So hot-" he bit back a moan and the
babble. Holding the hips still trying to collapse and settling into
a steady rhythm, no resistance offered him.
"Bilbo." The shaky gasp was no complaint, only affection and
encouragement
"Ummmmm. Good. So good.." loose, but twitching on him as he went,
hips jerking against him as he bottomed out against that sore skin,
his pace slow and steady; his body and mind both too tense from
having waited and watched, Thorin too loose in his undone state, his
own pleasure half drowned from watching Thorin finish.
Minutes of that steady pace filled him with slow stoking heat,
staring at that shinny sweat-slick flexing back bracing for his
every thrust, a whine starting in Thorin's throat as he began to
tighten around the hobbit, "Bilbo. I- ah Mahal.."
And Bilbo's eyes widened and he husked, "What do you need?"
"Fast. Please-"
And Bilbo shifted his angle to find that sweet spot in his sweet
dwarf, and began to thrust fast, as requested, suddenly hard-pressed
to keep from finishing right this instant. But within a handful of
the short movements, Thorin was giving sharp little exclamations
with every painful breath, shuddering and clenching oh terribly
tight, "Ah- ah- ah- hnn"
Oh that muffled wail was far too much for anyone to take and the
heat was pouring through his balls to fill the tight body gripping
him until only clenching his jaw held back his cries, or stand the
painfully good squeeze on too-sensitive flesh, and had to pull out,
bare thread of memory sending his elbows and forearms on the solid
back before him, keeping himself from collapsing down on sore flesh.
--
"Feel better?"
When Bilbo looked up from slowly retying his trouser laces, the
indulgent grin aimed at him by the dwarf moving very lazily indeed,
like the satisfied great cat he was, to shrug his upper-body layers
back on was belied by the worried frown around the watchful eyes,
and Bilbo reached up to interrupt and share a soft kiss. Puling back
only enough to lean their foreheads together, he sighed, "Yes." And
he did. The coiled tension from being the polite mediator between
the two arrogant kings had, indeed, finally dissolved.
And then the implication of the words registered and he looked up
with a glare, "You set this up *deliberately*??"
Thorin's smile turned into a serious expression, nodding candidly,
"Yes. You have more than once dragged me out of grim moods with
pleasures of the flesh. If you will not ask for this, my gentle
hobbit, I would be a poor mate not to offer you the means." He
jerked his head toward the elves' gates, "I know I lean on you a
great deal in these matters, and wear on your patience."
Releasing a deep breath, Bilbo made himself accept that his husband
could have chosen other pleasures. The spatters drying on their
handy boulder shouted Thorin's bliss beyond any hurt. "I'm glad to
be useful to your kingdom, you know that."
"..Our kingdom."
--
A quick wash and a change of clothes and they had to present
themselves for the pre-dinner socializing. In response to Bilbo's
pleading look, Thorin bit his tongue and sipped his wine rather than
say a word to the elves that dared converse with him, and otherwise
concentrated on standing casually. Unfortunately, once the company
was called to the dining room, it was to a formal table. And Thorin,
of course, utterly refused to give the tree-shaggers the least
reason to smirk, so he sat down on the unpleasantly hard wooden
chairs rather than standing and accepting teasing as he would have
in Erebor. But even he could not keep a thread of a flinch from
flickering across his features when he let his weight rest on his
well-used ass.
"What did you do now, father??"
Thorin spun his head to gap at his daughter's knowing smile.
"Edda, not in public, little one," Balin muttered from her other
side, smiling and shrugging at the few other guests who'd turned at
her bright voice.
"Oh," his sweet, hobbit-trained, girl frowned at Thorin and lowered
her voice, "Sorry."
Thorin could feel the heat in his cheeks and knew he had to be
bright red, barely able to be grateful that Bilbo, at his side, was
in deep conversation with the prince on his other side.
He choked lowly, "She- tell me she does not actually know-"
The sardonic look Balin gave him left him sputtering.
"Your majesty? Are you injured?"
Balin, traitor that he was, looked away from his pleading eyes.
Leaving Thorin to slowly turn his head and face the innocently
worried eyes of Thranduil's get. And his own husband's half-guilty
half-worried look.
"I am quite fine, prince." Bilbo's darkening look warned him and he
added, "But thank you for the concern."
The annoyingly innocent-seeming eyes of the elf gave him a
still-worried look but took on a surprising diplomatic slant and
turned to his other neighbour, leaving Bilbo watching Thorin with
growing guilt.
Softening for his too-gentle hobbit, Thorin leaned to whisper in his
ear, "I am perfectly fine, my love. And I will be most pleased to
prove it to you when we get to our quarters, later." Bilbo gently
rubbed Thorin's leg under the table and Thorin's hand covered his
and squeezed.
--
Later that night, when the family retired to their quarters, they
sat on either side of Edda on the couch, Bilbo and Edda having
insisted on bring soft pillows as extra cushioning, for everyone so
no one felt singled-out, and had another lesson in politics versus
family; or, 'what subjects can be brought up in what company'. Bilbo
wished Thorin would listen half as well to 'when threats and insults
are acceptable in what company'.
Suitably apologetic for embarrassing her father, their girl gave
hugs and kisses and snuggled up, enjoying this time alone. She
finally settled her head happily on Thorin's shoulder and Bilbo
snuggled into her other side. "I like it here," she said, playing
with the rings on her papa's hand. When Thorin gave a non-committal
grunt, Bilbo shot him a warning glance. "But," she added, unaware of
the byplay, "I think I'm ready to go home. Can we go home soon?"
Thorin placed a kiss on her head, Bilbo melting for that soft look
that Edda brought to his eyes when he was relaxed and so obviously
at peace from all the sorrows of his broken family. "Of course,
Thorinul...the day after tomorrow."
Bilbo's brows rose, torn between surprise and annoyance, "Will
negotiations be done?" Because it certainly hadn't been Bilbo's
comments that had caused day-long arguments...
The guileless bright-eyed look Thorin sent him reminded him far too
much of princes sending him to steal from trolls. "We need to get
our girl home... we'll leave the day after tomorrow."
Bilbo nodded blandly. Well, he could at least cash in on his lover's
earlier promise before facing a dwarf bent on diplomacy, "Shall we
retire then, my loves?"
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