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In reflection, Bilbo Baggins knew he probably should have read the small print of his contract. At the time, he had been completely distracted by the list of injuries that he may or may not receive by participating in this adventure. Any reasonable hobbit would be put off by the word 'incineration', so he really couldn't be blamed.
It was when they had first stopped for camp that Bilbo noticed the tittering and chortling of voices, the innuendos and crude comments that were enough to bring a blush to Bilbo's cheeks. Such things weren't spoken about in the Shire, but perhaps these were not inappropriate subjects for dwarves? Not wishing to alienate himself further, he had bitten down on his bottom lip and decided he wouldn't question it. Maybe he should have.
He had been laying out his sleeping mat on the rocky surface when he was stopped suddenly by the much larger shadow of Dwalin towering above him. Bilbo glanced upward at the face of the seasoned warrior and smiled nervously.
"Um, m-may I help you?" he stammered out as confidently as he could.
"What are you doing laddie?" Dwalin demanded an answer.
Bilbo furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Um, preparing my bed for the night?"
"Not yet," the dwarf stated, "You have not performed all that has been asked for you."
"Ah, p-pardon me," Bilbo blinked slowly.
Dwalin huffed heavily through his nose, as if exasperated by the hobbit's lack of apparent knowledge. "Go see to Thorin," he ordered, "He'll be needing you."
Bilbo still wasn't exactly sure what he was needed for, but he didn't ask any questions (again, maybe another fatal mistake on his part) and instead quickly scrambled to his feet and padded away from the rowdy group, the wolf whistles and jeers doing nothing but confusing him even further. Thorin was a distance away from the camp – close enough that he would know if there was trouble, but far enough away that no one from the camp would be able to see or overhear them – just standing and staring out across the landscape. Bilbo's hands twisted uneasily as he approached. For a moment, he was afraid to break the silence, not wanting to disturb the dwarf that clearly hadn't been pleased by his presence since he first called their party to a halt at the beginning of the day.
So he stayed silent, until curiosity got the better of him and he just had to talk.
"Um, Dwalin said you'd be needing me?" he offered.
Thorin turned to glance at him over his shoulder, eyebrow arched and expression indifferent. Bilbo went so long without an answer that he felt a flash of worry that maybe he was the butt of some joke, and that he wasn't needed at all. He opened his mouth, intenting to apologise and scurry away as fast as possible, but there was no need.
"Tomorrow night, there will be none of this delay," Thorin announced, "You'll find me after dinner, and then every night onward, understand hobbit?"
"I…" Bilbo blinked once more, "Oh, y-yes, but, uh, if you don't mind me asking, what for exactly?"
"Did you not read your contract before you signed it?" Thorin inquired trepidation and mild amusement in his voice. He finally moved to face Bilbo head on, and took a large step forward, closing the large gap between them just a little.
"Um, admittedly, not all of it," Bilbo answered honestly. Nerves were rising within him and he wondered what exactly did the rest of the contract contain? What had he agreed to without even knowing?
"Hmm, don't think ignorance will excuse you," Thorin began, "Every member of our company is honour bound by their contracts, including you and I. We each have our role to play. This just happens to be yours."
"What just happens to be my role?"
"To please me," Thorin's voice rumbled, "In anyway I choose."
"I…"
It took a moment for the bewilderment to clear and the reality of what was expected from him to settle in his mind. Bilbo tensed, the heat of his blush travelling from below the collar of his shirt to turn his face the colour of a ripened tomato, and his mind worked frantically to think of what other meaning 'to please me' could have. Because, really, it couldn't mean…the contract wouldn't have…why would…but Thorin's smirk told it all. Clearly he found the whole situation funny, but the heat was there, that undisguised want for release that frankly Bilbo had never had aimed at him before.
"You…you can't be serious!" he spluttered out, indignant.
"Deadly so," Thorin responded instantly.
"You expect me to…" Bilbo trailed off, his eyes dropping pointedly to the bulge he could now clearly see in the dwarf's breeches. His eyes snapped away as soon as he realised what he was doing. He averted his gaze and almost cursed himself for the way his own body had betrayed him with interest. Merely a hint, mind you, but it was there. Enough to make Bilbo's resolve waver.
"I don't…" he started again, licking his lips nervously.
"You agreed to this Bilbo," Thorin pointed out, taking another step forward. Bilbo hadn't realised he'd been backing away. "You signed the contract and the fact that you displayed negligence by not fully reading the whole document is no fault of mine. Why should my needs suffer because of a mistake on your part?"
Bilbo didn't answer, but Thorin was pleased to see the defeated slump of the hobbit's shoulders, the diversion of his eyes to the floor – a show of subservience he wasn't ashamed to admit he adored.
"I won't rush you," he assured, taking another step forward so they were close, too close, and one hand reached out to brush along the loose curls around the hobbit's sweet face. He saw the shiver that racked through his body, the slight leaning towards the touch, and knew that their dalliances wouldn't be as one-sided as it seemed, "I wish to please you as much as I wish you to please me."
"What…" Bilbo stopped when his voice croaked, clearing it and wetting his bottom lip, "…what would you have me do?"
Bilbo was no stranger to sexual encounters. Although he may not seem like it now, he had many an encounter as a young hobbit, before the needs of marriage and children arose. He was…talented, he believed, and the hobbits he had been with – men and women – certainly hadn't complained. But then expectations were strong in a hobbit's community. It is expected for you to marry and have children and Bilbo had never been considered suitable marriage material. Although the thought did sting, of course it would, he had long expected that fact. This would be his first sexual meeting in almost 20 years, and it was to be against his will – although, judging by the unwanted swelling that made his trousers entirely too tight to be comfortable, he wasn't as put off as he should have been.
"Well, start with something simple," Thorin stated, "On your knees."
Bilbo was aghast by how fast he dropped to oblige. His cheeks heated up once more and looked up cautiously from beneath his eyelashes. Oh yes, that want had increased.
Thorin licked his lips in anticipation. "Open my trousers," he ordered once more.
The hobbit's hands shook as he accepted the task. There was some fumbling, because dwarf trousers had a lot more buckles than Bilbo was used to, but eventually, he was granted access. The fabric slipped down, only slightly, and Bilbo watched with wide eyes as one large hand reached within to pull out his cock. It was hard, the tip a little pink and wet even in the dim light that surrounded them. Thorin jacked himself for a moment, one, two strokes; a thoughtful expression on his face.
"Kiss it," he muttered after a moment, his hand stilling at the base. At Bilbo's momentary hesitation, he urged him gently, "come on, kiss it."
Bilbo licked his lips nervously before inclining his head forward and pressing his lips against the spongy head. It felt strange, smooth beneath his touch, and the taste of the pre-cum was bitter, although not overly unpleasant when it spread across his bottom lip.
"You call that a kiss hobbit," Thorin grumbled, his voice a little rough, "Go on, properly."
Bilbo's tongue sneaked out and wiped testingly across the sensitive skin. Thorin let out a low noise and his free hand grasped at the back of the hobbit's head. He made a noise of objection at the rough handling, but Bilbo's eyes fluttered shut after a few seconds. He lapped at the liquid, tongue dipping into the slit every once and a while. As he grew more confident, the pressure of the licks increased, his legs parted slightly and his hands clenched and unclenched on his thighs.
There was no denying his arousal now, Bilbo knew. It was pressing heavily against the stretch of his crotch and he was almost certain a wet patch was growing. Yet again, he was thankful for the foresight to bring a change of clothes. Certainly, he wasn't expecting him to need them because of such a situation like this, but it was still handy.
"That's it," Thorin cooed his encouragement, "Now take more, suck the head; lick at the underside."
Bilbo looked up briefly at the darkness of Thorin's eyes, and took in the haggardness of his breath, the flush on his cheeks that could not be denied. He was doing this; he was bringing such a powerful and intimidating creature to its knees, to the even brink of pleasure. A rush of pride ran through him. Eyes locked and wide, Bilbo widened his mouth to take more in, tightening like a seal when he could take no more – although he was disappointed to see there was still a few inches that remained out of his reach – and sucked. His cheeks hollowed and his tongue traced a zig-zag pattern across the pulsing vein.
The sound Thorin released was almost unbelievable. Loud and deep and tinged with surprise, although Bilbo was unsure whether that was because he was surprised he could make such a noise, or that it was Bilbo who had caused it. The grip on his hair tightened dramatically, pulling and Bilbo's mouth fell open in a panted gasp. Thorin swayed away slightly and Bilbo watched with crossing eyes the trail of spit that connected the dripping cock, now a deep red, maybe a little purple, and his swollen lips.
"I want to fuck that perfect little mouth of yours," Thorin rumbled out, fingers moving to trace the seam, "Will you let me?"
The sound Bilbo released was desperate and needy and was almost definitely a yes. Thorin let out a pleased hum at the back of his throat and released one hand only to lead his cock passed the parted lips. He paused only to nudge his head on the reddened petals, his pre-cum standing out stark white, before continuing on. He gave Bilbo a moment – only a moment – to let out a shuddered breath before he drew back a little bit and thrust forcibly.
Bilbo was not prepared for the first hit of cock against the back of his throat. His yelp of surprise was muffled when Thorin thrust in again. By the third thrust, the hobbit had relaxed enough that the cock nudged at the back of his throat, the head dipping into the tight cavern for a few seconds. Bilbo swallowed around it. Thorin growled and sought the same pleasure once more.
Thorin's movements were determined and rough, using all of his might to fuck Bilbo's mouth. He wanted to claim and dominate. He wanted to mark and marr and damage until every one knew who Bilbo belonged to. Because no one else was to touch him, no one else would draw pleasure from his body. No, Bilbo was Thorin's. He wouldn't allow anything else.
With every rock of hips forward, Bilbo was breathless, choked and gagged in a way that made his body tremble with humiliation, want and lust. Even though his eyes were getting heavy with pleasure, his vision blurring a little at the edges, he could see Thorin's hard gaze, the predatory stare that burned into his skin. And for the first time, he was glad to be the prey. Thorin's hold on his face was bruising and the fingers that slipped between his lips on each out thrust, stretched the skin, no doubt a reminder he would feel for days. His own cock ached by now, begging for release, and his hands shakily adjusted his trousers to try and relieve some pressure.
Thorin noticed.
"Are you hard hobbit?" the dwarf rumbled, "Does this, does pleasuring me make you hard? You're leaking everywhere; your trousers are no doubt ruined hobbit – all for me. Next time, next time, I will strip you bare and lay you on the ground. I'll mark my presence of your body so you, and everyone else, knows who you belong to. I will taste you – your mouth, your cock, your arse – and you'll let me, won't you? You'd let me do whatever I wanted. Look at you, so desperate – one day, I will draw this out, make you wait for my call to cum, but for now, I'll show leniency. Go on, touch yourself. Do it. Cum from me fucking your mouth open."
Bilbo wasn't aware that he had been waiting for an order, but as soon as it came, he wasted no time in ripping open his breeches and drawing his cock out. It was wet and purple and god, the relief he felt when his trembling hands finally wrapped around his member was unlike anything he had ever felt before. His movements were quick and sharp, because he knew he couldn't last much longer. The coil in his stomach was too tight to be comfortable and the need to cum was overwhelming. He wanted to spill and release so much – but he needed Thorin to cum first. He couldn't describe it, but something told him to hold off, at least for a little while, until he could taste the first wave of cum hitting the back of his throat.
So he did. Bilbo waited until Thorin's movements became erratic and uncontrolled, so very unlike the dwarf leader. He waited until Thorin was growling his declarations of possession under his breath, his voice uncontrollably shaky. He waited until the grip on his face had tightened too much, until Thorin bent over his head; until he was roughly head still, as if he were planning to get away. He moaned deeply at the taste, and his body seized control. His hips jerked as his cock twitched out its climax. Whatever noises he wished to make were halted by the more important need to swallow every last drop that was given to him. He doubted he would have been heard anyway, not over Thorin's bellow that seemed to echo loudly around the trees. Not even the purposeful distance would have kept the camp from hearing that.
Bilbo was shaky and cold as the release ebbed away, leaving only embarrassment and uncertainty. Thorin's cock was still in his mouth, softening, and it was only when the dwarf fully regained his breath that he pulled out. Trails of spit snapped as the distance was increased and Bilbo rolled his aching jaw carefully.
Thorin tucked himself away and buckled his trousers before he finally turned his attention to the pleasantly wrecked hobbit before him, still on his knees as if waiting for the next instructions. He chuckled darkly, reaching out with one hand to wipe at the line of white, some of his cum that had escaped, and held the limb against Bilbo's mouth. The hobbit lapped at the offering desperately, as if he would die without more. Thorin was oddly pleased about this.
Bilbo pulled away embarrassed and stumbled awkwardly as he tried to tuck himself away into his definitely ruined breeches. The wet patch was cold and disgusting against his sensitive cock, and he winced noticeably.
Thorin inclined his head. "Clear yourself up, hobbit," he ordered, "It would do no good for any of the company to see our burglar in such a state."
Bilbo thought to point out that it was hardly his fault, but thought better of it. Instead, he nodded his acceptance, and pulled himself unsteadily to his feet.
"There's a stream just beyond the bushes," Thorin told him, "I'm sure that will be sufficient enough for now."
"I, ah…" Bilbo could not help but feel slightly disappointed at how cold Thorin was now being. He wasn't sure what he was expecting really. Perhaps some kind of closeness, a cuddle maybe, because hobbit's were a cuddly bunch. But no, Thorin Oakenshield was a dwarf. What else should he expect but brutality and rough edges and distance?
"When you return, I will make sure that Bombur had a warm meal for you," Thorin continued, "I'm sure we've missed it by now. And move your bed mat besides mine. I should have you at my side at all times."
"Why?" Bilbo found himself asking, baffled, before he could stop himself.
Thorin gave him that look again, the one that suggested he was a moron for not understanding the reason. "Because you're mine," was his simple answer, and well, Bilbo found himself unable to argue.