Welcome to the mature outtakes of When the Past Encroaches on the Present! I'm not sure, but I think that you can probably read this without having read the story that it is a part of and if not, you're more than welcome to read the other and then come back to this! I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I only mess with the characters in ways that probably make Professor Tolkien roll in his grave, for which I do at least feel some shame.

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They had only gone a short ways from the forge when Bilbo's hand brushed his. He glanced down at the hobbit and saw him looking coyly up at him through his curly bangs. The desire Thorin had seen earlier still burnt in his hazel eyes and caused an uncomfortable tightness to coil within the dwarf's stomach. This needed to be dealt with.

They continued back towards town, Thorin's eyes scanning for a suitable place to waylay the hobbit where there was the least chance of them being caught or interrupted. Suddenly a suitable alleyway came into sight. Glancing around quickly to make sure that there was no one around, Thorin grabbed the hobbit by the upper arm and drug him into the darkness. Bilbo looked at him with wide, surprised eyes as Thorin pinned him to the wooden wall of one of the buildings.

"Thorin, what—" Bilbo had time to ask before Thorin's lips were on his. The kiss a nearly aggressive declaration of desire and intent.

"Do you have any idea how difficult it was for me to focus on my work today?" Thorin growled before beginning to kiss and nip his way down Bilbo's neck. The hobbit panted at the unexpected attention and tipped his head back to allow the dwarf better access.

"It couldn't have been that difficult," Bilbo panted out as his throat worked convulsively trying to keep his own desire at bay. Thorin couldn't mean to . . . not here. "You-you managed it well enough."

"It took every ounce of self-control that I possess not to bend you over the anvil and take you right there. Hobbit sensibilities be damned," Thorin growled as he began to unbutton Bilbo's shirt and waistcoat. Thorin did intend for it to be there and only the right—or wrong—words from Bilbo would be able to stop him.

Despite himself, Bilbo found that mental image extremely arousing. He had never been one for public displays of affection, not really, and had never dreamed of exhibitionism, but the thought of Thorin claiming him in such a public fashion—in the Shire, of all places—had his mind wandering and him gasping for air. He could only imagine the look on the smith's face if he had. It would have been priceless. True, they never could have left Bag End again, not after something like that but it would have been worth it.

"Why didn't you?" Bilbo asked breathless at the scenario his mind had conjured up—or it could have been the unadulterated lust in Thorin's blue eyes.

"I didn't want to scandalize the neighborhood," Thorin said, the pad of his thumb stroking Bilbo's face and his voice little more than a purr. "And I assure you, the entire neighborhood would have heard us. As it is, unless you tell me to stop, they still may because I will take you right here against this wall." The decidedly predatory smile on his face only served to excite Bilbo all the more.

Bilbo said nothing but instead pulled Thorin down into a searing kiss that left them both floored at the desire that was evident in it. It wasn't a kiss of passion, but something filled with want and longing so pure that it shredded the last vestige of restraint that Thorin had been clinging to. With a growl, his hands slid under Bilbo's shirt, popping the last remaining buttons, before he removed both it and the hobbit's jacket in one movement and dropped them unceremoniously to the ground.

It never even entered into Bilbo's mind to protest the rough treatment of his clothes because he was soon lost in the wonderful feeling of Thorin's calloused hands on his body. It was a touch that he had craved for sixty years and finally it was his once more. What were a few buttons in the face of that? Besides, his own treatment of Thorin's clothing was not much better as he gave into his desire to feel skin-on-skin rather than be encumbered by the barricade of cloth. He vaguely registered the sound of cloth tearing, but dismissed it. There would be time for worrying about that later.

All thoughts about worrying about clothing were forced from his mind as Thorin pushed him against the wall once more plundering his mouth as it was clear that he wanted to plunder his body. One of his hands tangled in Thorin's dark hair trying—impossibly—to deepen the kiss even further, while the other roamed freely over the planes of his lover's body that he remembered so well. He realized suddenly that he had forgotten how warm Thorin's skin became when he was aroused. It was almost as hot as the air in the forge had been.

There was nothing gentle about the way Bilbo was touching him, and Thorin reveled in the hobbit's harsh caresses. He had been with the hobbit many times but never like this. There was nothing timid in Bilbo's behavior. Nothing gentle. He was lost in a state of pure desire and the fact that Thorin had been the one to drive him there caused an appreciative growl to rise up the dwarf's throat before his own hands moved to trail possessively down Bilbo's body before deftly undoing his breaches and allowing them to fall to the ground as well.

Bilbo broke the kiss and looked at Thorin levelly before he trailed his own hands teasingly along the bulge in Thorin's own trousers. His hazel eyes showing that he knew exactly what he was doing. Thorin moaned at the touch and Bilbo smirked before repeating the gesture a little more firmly. Thorin's breath left him in a shudder of desire.

"I swear Bilbo," he managed to gasp, his voice husky and deeper than normal—little more than a low vibration—with desire, "if you do that again I will not be held responsible for my reaction."

"Is that so?" Bilbo asked softly, leaning in to place his mouth next to Thorin's ear so that his warm breath ghosted over the flesh there causing the dwarf to quiver with desire. The challenge was evident in his tone and before Thorin could answer, Bilbo repeated his caress one more time. With a needy, almost primal, groan Thorin gathered both of Bilbo's hands in one of his own and spun the hobbit around before pressing him into the wall and leaning down to devour the side of his neck.

"You have no idea what you just did, Bilbo Baggins," Thorin whispered into the hobbit's pointed ear before his free hand began to roam freely over the pale soft skin of the hobbit he had pinned. Bilbo's only reply was a plaintive moan. Thorin had never been quite so rough with him before, and he was loving it. He had needed this for so long, there was no way that this mating was going to be gentle and he found that he couldn't care less.

Even the brief flare of pain that washed through him when Thorin's questing hand began to penetrate him did nothing to dampen his desire. He relaxed into the touch of the other and soon the pain faded and pleasure took its place, as he had known that it would. His head fell back against Thorin's chest as a cry that was equal parts pleasure and pain rose up his throat as a second finger was added. Still, the dwarf did not free his hands, rather he kept them pinned against the wall as he ran his nose along the part of Bilbo's jaw that he could reach only pausing to nip his ear and whisper what Bilbo could only assume were naughty things.

Passion seemed to have taken Thorin's ability to speak the common tongue and all that fell from his lips were fragments of Khuzdul. Even though Bilbo couldn't understand them, their intent was quite clear. They were words of praise, possession, desire and love. The tone in which they were spoken said what the words themselves did not. One was more prevalent than any other and even in his passion addled state Bilbo remembered it so that he could ask for a meaning later: Âzyungâl. That one word had such emotion behind it that Bilbo knew that it had to be important.

And then all possibility of conscious thought was gone. Thorin had removed his fingers and at the loss of the sensation, a needy, plaintive moan had risen from Bilbo's throat. The dwarf chuckled quietly before murmuring something else that Bilbo could not understand, but the intent had been clear. Thorin had asked for patience. Bilbo had none, but it didn't matter. There was the sound of rustling cloth and then Thorin was there. In him, filling him almost painfully, but Bilbo didn't care. He needed this. Thorin held still, trying not to hurt the hobbit below him, but Bilbo was having none of that. Even before the sensation of intrusion had faded, he had begun to move around Thorin, his impassioned cries begging the dwarf to do the same.

It was a request that Thorin was more than happy to oblige. He had never been able to stand it when Bilbo begged and especially not when it was in his power to give the hobbit what he wanted. At the wordless urging of Bilbo, Thorin set a punishing pace that soon had both of them panting and moaning in passion. He didn't slow down even once Bilbo's very breaths became little cries, so full of need, and the hobbit began to squirm, seeking greater friction as the end drew near. His movements made it unbearable for Thorin and he knew that if he didn't help Bilbo he would finish before the hobbit did. With a small smile, Thorin reached around the hobbit and ran one finger across the tip of his erection. That was all that it took to push him over the edge and with a loud cry, Bilbo reached completion. The sensation of the hobbit's inner walls convulsing around him was all that it took to pull Thorin over with Bilbo and he buried himself deeper within his lover as both a roar of completion and his seed left his body.

They stood motionless for some time, both enjoying the closeness that comes after such an intimate encounter. Eventually, with a pleased and sated sound in his throat Bilbo turned slightly and placed his cheek against Thorin's warm chest. The dwarf gasped at the movement, but smiled and released Bilbo's hands—which he had still had pinned to the wall—and used the hand that wasn't wrapped around the hobbit's waist to stroke the side of his face.

"I needed that," Bilbo sighed contentedly. Thorin laughed quietly in response.

"I think we both needed that," Thorin replied before slowly pulling out of Bilbo and beginning to rearrange his own clothing while Bilbo saw to his.

"Do you intend to repair this?" Thorin asked with a smirk as he showed Bilbo the rend in his undershirt that the hobbit had created while ripping his clothes from him.

"Only if you intend to re-sew the buttons you popped off," Bilbo replied with a smirk of his own, wincing slightly as he bent to retrieve his trousers. That was one thing that he had forgotten: the soreness that occasionally followed an unexpected coupling.

"I hurt you," Thorin said, sadness in his voice.

"No," Bilbo replied automatically. He shifted uncomfortably as he felt the dwarf's icy stare bore into him. Thorin could see that he had. Bilbo was moving far too gingerly. He felt shame wash through him. He should have known better than to let loose. Bilbo was a hobbit, not a dwarf. No matter what Bilbo continually insisted, hobbits were fragile creatures by comparison.

"You didn't," Bilbo said, trying to reassure the upset dwarf. "Not really. I'll be fine. It's just . . . it's been a very long time. I'll be alright." Thorin gave Bilbo a small smile in response but made a mental note to never ravage Bilbo in an alleyway like this again.

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There we are all! The first mature outtake from When the Past Encroaches on the Present. There will be more to follow (I'm sure) but I'm not sure how often this one will be updated. I hope you enjoyed it and would LOVE to hear what you thought.

This was only my third slash scene and I would love to hear how you think I did.

Drop me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.

Stickdonkeys