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That night on the Carrock was quite miserable for one Mister Baggins.
It started out well enough, with a nice fire, and a hearty meal that was surrounded by laughter and song into the evening as they celebrated their escape, good fortune, and the survival of their prince.
Bilbo joined the festivities for once. Well, he was more forced to by the grateful dwarves, and quite suddenly felt like he belonged in their midst, that he was no longer an outsider. Though they had mostly all been friendly to him, they had never really sought to include him (Bofur was an exception, but he was an exceptionally polite and happy dwarf). Now, he was getting claps on the back, his hair ruffled, his pointed ears pinched teasingly (which caused a most embarrassing reaction), and an alarming amount of hugs.
The only things that made this night anything less than great was the way Thorin still flinched at certain movements (which caused a ridiculous amount of concern to bubble up in Bilbo’s chest), and also the simmering heat that settled beneath Bilbo’s skin that was ignited at some point between watching Thorin march down to meet Azog in battle and the tight hug they shared upon the prince’s revival (and the ear-pinching didn’t help matters at all). It was embarrassing, and eventually he began to dodge the dwarves and their affectionate touches, pulling his hood up to cover his ears. When asked, he told them he was just cold.
Which, he was. As the sun set, they were still paranoid about Orcs and Wargs, so they put out the warm fire, bathing the camp in darkness and the chilly night air surrounding them. Soon, the company was stumbling off to their bedrolls, groaning at the cold as the temperature dipped even lower. None of them were particularly ready to go to sleep, but huddling close to each other under their thin blankets was preferable to just about anything else they could be doing. By the time Bilbo got his bearings and found a bedroll (which wasn’t his, he noted with annoyance), he was stuck with one on the outskirts of the huddle of dwarves.
This meant that he wouldn’t be getting much, if any, warmth this night. It appeared the appreciation of dwarves was short-lived and fleeting, though at the same time he didn’t wish a night of freezing to near-death on anyone. So without bothering to remove his coat, he slipped under the blanket and shivered.
Frustratingly, the freezing did nothing to dissuade his half-hard cock, which still pressed against the ties of his underclothes. He bit his lip as he shifted, facing away from the group of dwarves so that is back wasn’t toward open space. He determinedly tried to go to sleep and not contemplate what Thorin’s naked skin would feel like against his, thickly furred chest against his own smooth on, and his hard strong body above and in him.
Soon though, the cold began to seep into his bones, and he lost feeling in his toes, and his erection finally subsided as he began to shiver. Teeth chattering, and breath coming out in loud, misty gusts, he curled into himself to try to create more warmth and to quiet down. He didn’t want to annoy the dwarves by waking them up. They would be concerned about him, or worse, laugh at him. So there he stayed, in the darkness and the cold, shivering with painful force against a bed that was cooled by frigid rock beneath it, thinking of Bag End and his warm, soft bed and fireplace.
Very suddenly, something dropped on top of him, startling a broken cry from the hobbit as he looked up. In the darkness, he could make out the shape of a dwarf standing above him, and soon enough, he recognized it as Thorin.
“I-I-I’m s-sorry for w-wa-waking you,” Bilbo stuttered, reaching out from under the blanket to touched. whatever the prince had dropped on top of him, discovering that it was the dwarf’s fur-lined coat.
Thorin merely grunted as he dropped down to his knees, wincing slightly, and slipped under the blanket and coat to wrap an arm around the halfling. He was a furnace along Bilbo’s back, and the hobbit couldn’t help but groan gratefully as heat slowly slipped back into his limbs.
“You’re frozen, Halfling,” Thorin rumbled, his face in Bilbo’s hair, warm breath puffing against his scalp. “Why have you been sleeping so far away?”
“This was the l-la-last bedroll and I d-did not want to disturb anyone,” Bilbo responded quietly, flushing deeply as two great shudders wracked his body.
Thorin made a displeased noise and tucked the hobbit in closer to his body and enveloping him further with his warmth. Bilbo blushed harder as he realized the curve of his bottom slotted perfectly against Thorin’s pelvis, bringing back fantasies he’d only just barely been able to forget about. He shivered again, releasing a shuddering breath as Thorin’s hand spread on his abdomen, the heat from his palm simply divine on Bilbo’s chilled skin.
“Go to sleep, little burglar,” Thorin said, his voice soft with exhaustion.
Though Bilbo was sure he wouldn’t sleep a wink that night with the object of his desire pressed so closely behind him, he felt his eyes drooping, and his mind going numb with sleep.
He woke up with a shudder some time later, pulled from a dream that was, quite frankly, inappropriate for his age. He hadn’t had a dream like that since he was in his teens and early twenties.
Of course, the hobbit’s body was definitely interested in the imaginings he’d had, and this time he didn’t have the cold or immediate exhaustion to will his arousal away. He had no way of knowing how long he had slept, only that it was still dark and cold out, though he was kept warm by the fur coat and blanket above him, as well as the dwarf prince breathing heavily into the hair at the nape of his neck.
As Bilbo began to panic and figure out how to extricate himself before his embarrassment was found out, the arm slung over him shifted slightly, the hand returning to his stomach. Thorin sighed, and the hobbit could feel him lift his head to look around before letting it drop back down with another huff of breath. Bilbo twitched uncomfortably, squeaking quietly as the dwarf pulled him back against his chest.
“Are you still cold, Master Baggins?” Thorin asked softly, his hand stroking the hobbit’s soft tummy lightly, and his lips brushed lightly against the shell of his sensitive ear.
“Ah, no, I’m warm now,” Bilbo said, and he winced at the way his voice cut the silence of the night. None of the other dwarves seemed effected, though, their snores continuing without pause.
Thorin sighed once again, his heated breath panting across the halfling’s ear as he slid his hand lower and cupped the evidence of his arousal. “So it would seem,” he murmured, tongue flicking out the tease at Bilbo’s earlobe as the hobbit whimpered and thrust against the large palm covering his cock.
For a few seconds, Bilbo was convinced he was still dreaming. Thorin couldn’t possibly want him in this way. He was just a simple hobbit, and he was a burglar (a poor one at that). Not the sort of thing that a dwarf, let alone a dwarven prince would want.
A sigh gusted across Bilbo’s ear, sending goosepimples down the side of his neck and pulling a tiny noise from the halfling.
“I would have you,” Thorin groaned, rocking his pelvis forward against Bilbo’s bottom, the thick line of his erection hot and more than a little bit obvious. “Right here.”
“Yes,” Bilbo groaned, understanding that the dwarf was asking for permission. A dwarf prince was asking him, a humble hobbit of the Shire, for permission. This was almost the opposite of the fantasies the halfling found himself conjuring, since most of them involved clothes being torn away and himself being held down while he was plundered mercilessly by both cock and tongue.
This, though, was indescribably pleasant, and incredibly intimate. Though it was arousing, Bilbo feared the intimacy for a moment, realizing that this wasn’t about buggering and getting it over with. At least it wouldn’t be that way for the hobbit.
As a calloused hand slipped into his suddenly untied trousers and smallclothes, all thought (rational or otherwise) flew from Bilbo’s mind and he began rutting into the grip on his cock with abandon. He felt his trousers and pants get shoved down, exposing just his pert bottom. Slick fingers were slipping between the cheeks, rubbing lightly at his entrance and pulling a sound of want from the hobbit.
“So soft,” Thorin said with a pleased sound, breaching Bilbo with a thick finger, and the hobbit shuddered.
He knew he had lost a bit of weight on this journey already, but he was still pudgy and lacked much muscle. Being surrounded by large, burly dwarves with cut muscles and tough, leather-like skin had been doing a number on Bilbo’s self esteem for much of the trip. The awe and desire in Thorin’s voice, however, changed his perception about his body just so slightly.
Thorin timed the thrusts of his finger with the stroking of his hand on Bilbo, wringing a happy sound from the smaller creature. He chuckled lightly as he slid in another finger, kissing the side of Bilbo’s neck soothingly as the hobbit hissed at the burn. With a shaky groan, Bilbo forced himself to relax against the intrusion, hands fisting in the blanket that was still slung over them that was fast becoming stifling.
The dwarf started up a rhythm with his fingers again, sliding the fingertips along Bilbo’s inner walls and deliberately missing that spot that would make him see stars. He was thorough in his preparation, thrusting the fingers into him with a great deal of force, pulling choked off little sounds from the hobbit.
“When we have privacy,” Thorin murmured lightly, breath hitching. “I will take you again, and you will let me hear you.”
Bilbo shivered, delighted at the idea of more and the concept of “again.” Though it didn’t recede completely, the mild panic that had settled in his gut lost its edge. Now, Bilbo was praying for privacy to come soon, because the way the dwarf shivered at each little noise he was able to safely make was intoxicating.
Thorin nailed the halfling’s prostate with his fingertips once, pulling a sharp cry from the little creature before pulling away again and working on scissoring him wide and loose. Soon enough, he removed his thick fingers, resulting in a low whine from his tiny lover.
“Do you still want this, little burglar?” the dwarf groaned as he pressed the head of his cock against the fluttering opening.
“Please,” Bilbo moaned quietly, shifting his hips back and gasped as he was breached by the tip of Thorin’s wide erection. “Gods.”
Bilbo wasn’t inexperienced, by any means, and had plenty of ex-lovers of both genders (though he was admittedly much younger the last time he’d had a bed partner), and never had he felt something as delicious as the slow slide of Thorin’s cock sliding into his tightness. The dwarf was by far the biggest lover he’d taken, and the fullness was divine, even with the pain that settled low in Bilbo’s back.
As Thorin bottomed-out, he froze and gasped into Bilbo’s shoulder. “Mahal, you’re so tight,” he groaned out eventually.
Bilbo gasped and thrust back onto Thorin before rolling forward into the hand that still held his own hot little erection. He needed stimulation, and he needed to come, and the more Thorin talked, the more panicked he began to feel.
Thorin growled lightly in Bilbo’s ear and began moving in time with the hobbit’s desperate little thrusts, reducing them both to muffled moans and quietly babbled words.
“Wanted this,” Bilbo gasped, release coming upon him rapidly.
“Aye,” Thorin groaned, either agreeing that he wanted it, or merely stating he knew Bilbo’s desires all along. At the moment, the hobbit didn’t much care, just wanting the heat in his belly to be relieved.
“Close,” the hobbit gasped, and with three more strokes on his cock, Bilbo was spilling his seed across his bedroll and smearing the blanket with it as well. He was gasping and biting back screams as all the tension left his body and he lay there limp and sated. For a few moments, he allowed himself to feel shame at the swiftness of his impending orgasm, but this just felt too good.
Thorin was still hard and throbbing inside him, and Thorin groaned behind him and nibbling at his neck. The dwarf was not at all put off by Bilbo’s early release, it would seem.
“So tight,” Thorin ground out, moving desperately behind the halfling, his hand leaving off Bilbo’s cock. His hand pressed against Bilbo’s stomach again, rubbing soothing circles as his pace became erratic and his quiet sounds took on a needy edge.
Thorin snapped his hips forward, the awkwardness of the position dampening the power of his thrusts, but they felt amazing nonetheless. Bilbo was shifting his pelvis back to meet each slap against his arse, even with post-coital exhaustion licking at the fringes of his vision. The over-stimulation was painful, and when the dwarf began pegging his prostate on each thrust, Bilbo had to bite his pillow to keep from screaming.
There was no way he’d get aroused again this soon, but once the edge of pain slipped away, it was perfect.
The dwarf was groaning quietly with every stroke, his breathing growing more rapid as he approached his own climax. Bilbo smirked lazily and clenched around Thorin’s cock.
The thrusts stuttered and Thorin froze, a gasp puffing across and cooling the sweat on Bilbo’s throat as heat splashed against his inner walls. The hard length inside him pulsed four times, pumping sticky cum deep inside him, and already the hobbit could feel some leaking out. Thorin sucked in air, shuddering through the aftereffects of his orgasm, before he slipped free of Bilbo’s heat, and groaned slightly in what sounded like pain.
Bilbo rolled onto his back, grimacing as he ended up in a wet spot, but ignored it in favour of checking on the dwarf.
“Are you injured?” Bilbo whispered, trying to find Thorin’s eyes in the darkness.
“No, little burglar,” the prince murmured, pulling the hobbit tight against his body again. “Only stiff. Are you?”
“Sore,” the halfling admitted tiredly, a slight blush coming over his face. “It has…been a while, I’m afraid.”
Thorin chuckled and tucked Bilbo’s head under his chin. “It appears we will have to make up for lost time.”
“Oh, gods, yes,” Bilbo sighed, pressing his lips to Thorin’s throat.
Another chuckle rumbled from the dwarf, and together, they slipped off to sleep.