The Heat of the Forge
Wherein Thorin finds that the heat of the forge is a metaphor for the heat of his own lust and that of a lovely woman who finds him…hot.
It had been a long shitty day. Thorin swung the hammer down on the sword he was repairing just slightly harder than he needed to. He was too much of a craftsman to let his anger ruin a weapon, but he needed an outlet. If he didn't take it out on the sword he would surely take it out on the idiot he worked for and the thrice-stupid customer who had gotten in his face loud and complaining. His curses had brought Jame from the back to side with the customer, of course and berate Thorin for not doing a proper job of repair.
Of course the repair wasn't done right. The shale-cursed Man wouldn't give him the time and insisted on a fix instead of full repair, the patch not lasting through a week with an overloaded wagon and pot-holed roads. He'd told him from the start that it wouldn't hold but what does a Dwarf know except how to shut his mouth and take orders. He needed the job or he would have been gone long ago. Word was hard to find and this employment paid better than some he'd had.
His anger made him even hotter and he stripped off the thin shirt and apron casting them onto a nearby stool. He brushed a lock of hair back that had escaped the horsetail caught at the nape of his neck. His temple braids swung free, making him feel less shorn than if he pulled it all back out of his way. He raised the hammer again but before he could strike he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked up and saw someone standing there.
"We close in a few minutes. Whatever you want, make it quick." His voice was harsh and his manner made it plain that he'd prefer that they took their business elsewhere.
She stepped forward so that he could see her better. Identifying her gender made no difference in his attitude or mood. "What is it? I don't have time to wait while you make up your mind."
"I have a ladle that I need repaired," she said softly. She held it up in two pieces so that he could see the snapped handle.
"Put it down and I will get to it tomorrow or the next day. I have bigger jobs that come first." He turned the sword and rang the hammer down, drowning out her words.
She cleared her throat and spoke up. "I really need it as soon as possible. I can pay more."
He barely looked at her. "I said I'd get to it when I can."
She took a step forward. "And I said I'm willing to pay more. That should count for something, Thorin."
Hearing his name he looked up and saw her face rather than just the repair in her hand. He frowned. "Do I know you?"
"I should hope so," she said tersely. "I've served you enough ale to drown a horse." She stepped into the light and he could see her.
"Gwennith is that you?" He wasn't sure. He was used to seeing her behind the bar, hair up, apron on wearing a smile that never seemed to fade.
"Aye, but I'm not sure who I'm talking to. You're not usually my most amusing customer, but I don't generally feel as if I should just piss off either."
He bowed his head a little. "It's not been the best day. Of course I will fix it for you, bring it here." He held out his hand, the ghost of an apologetic smile tugging the corner of his mouth.
She brought it over and let him take the pieces from her. He swept his shirt and apron onto the floor. "Have a seat, this will only take a few minutes."
She took the seat and he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She looked different with her hair down honey-gold and soft around her shoulders. Instead of a dark dress and apron she was wearing a softer dress of pale blue that matched her eyes. He usually ignored tall-folk, male or female, but she did look, well, nice.
She watched him heat the pieces of the ladle and then work them together. "Aren't you afraid you will burn yourself?" She made a vague gesture in his direction.
Thorin shook his head. "Not if I pay attention and don't get stupid."
She nodded and adjusted her position, showing a good deal of leg for a moment. Thorin very nearly got stupid.
Gwennith sat and watched Thorin. Every movement was poetry. He knew exactly what the iron needed to heal and he turned it, worked it and shaped it with his strong hands. The fire from the forge gilded his body, casting highlights on his muscles as they bunched and rolled and stretched. His dark hair cascaded nearly to his waist, it was caught back by a leather thong at the nape of his neck but strands had come loose brushing his wide shoulders and curling around his face. His temple braids swung as he worked the iron, the silver beads at the end glinting as they caught the light. Sweat ran freely down his neck, catching in the curled hair on his chest, sparkling like dew at sunrise. His belly was ridged with muscle that rolled with his movements. The dew caught there too, spattering away when he brought the hammer down.
As she watched she let her mind drift, becoming the iron in his hands soft and pliable, changing as his strong broad hands worked her and turned her and molded her. The heat from the forge shimmered around her and she unbuttoned the two top buttons of her dress. Beads of sweat appeared on her forehead and crept down her cheeks to slide down her neck and pool at the cleft between her breasts. Her breath came faster and she clenched her thighs together, teasing herself.
When it was completed and cooled he turned to her and held it out. She stepped up to him and took it and then carefully laid it down on the table. He looked at her quizzically but did not move. She slid closer to him until they were almost touching. She reached out and ran the back of her hand down his cheek and over his beard.
"I said I'd pay extra," she said softly her voice deep with need.
He looked at her squarely and said, "I have no need of trouble here, Gwennith. Just pay me and go home."
She was only three inches taller than he was and met his gaze squarely. "I have no need of trouble either, Thorin. I'm a free woman and may do as I please with my body, but I have no need for the talk that ignorant townfolk can spread. I have a business and a life to protect. If anyone hears anything it will not be from me."
She touched a lock of his hair, smoothing it between her fingers. "I wanted you from the first day I set ale in front of you. You are different from the men here. I don't know how, but you are more. There is a depth about you and a strength. If you would have me, I would share myself with you."
"Wouldn't you prefer me bathed and perfumed?" He meant to tease but the words came out harsh and brittle.
She looked him, pale blue eyes meeting sapphire. "There is nothing disagreeable about sweat from honest work." In truth, the scent of hot sweat mixed with the musk of his pheromones was deeply erotic.
She reached out and lifted his left braid and pulled him to her in a hard kiss. He did not move nor did he kiss her back. She let her tongue flick out to trace the outline of his lips, tickling against his moustache. The hand that had held his hair slid to the back of his head and released the thong that bound his hair. She dug her fingers into it dragging his tangled locks forward over his shoulder.
"I love your hair," she whispered, burying her face in it. His hair smelled of wood smoke and sweat, a dark heady scent that sent a pulse of need shivering through her. He stood looking into her eyes, immobile, his breath coming harder. She looked back at him, need burning in her eyes and slowly licked her lips.
He grabbed her then and pulled him to her, claiming her lips, forcing them apart with his tongue. She whimpered with need and kissed him back hard, her tongue sparring with his, tasting the tang of his mouth and wanting more. His sweat dampened the front of her dress as she molded against him. He could feel the hard points of her nipples as she moved and his breath caught as she shifted position so that a thigh was between his, pressing against his erection. He pressed back for a long moment enjoying a sensation he'd sworn he'd forgotten. Then he left her abruptly, strode across the room, slammed the door and locked it.
He stood with his back against the locked door. "Are you sure this is what you want?" His voice was raw with need. His eyes burned into hers telling her that once she made a decision there was no going back.
She faced him, legs spread standing firm. "I'm sure." She said evenly. "I don't think I've ever been more sure."
His head inclined just a little and warmth came into his eyes. He crossed the room and reached for her. She stepped easily into his arms again her lips finding his. She kissed him ardently, catching his lower lip between her teeth and worrying it gently. He groaned and bent just enough to hold her more firmly. Lifting her as if she weighed nothing he carried her to his cot in back.
He set her down gently and stopped to light several tallow candles. "I'm sorry I have nothing better to offer."
She smiled. "I'd rather be with you here than with a king in a palace."
He threw back his head and laughed without humor. "Well I'm glad this will do for I have no throne or feather bed to offer." She didn't understand his laugh or the dark look that followed it. There was pain there for some reason. His past was unknown to her, but she knew his present was hard and often bitter. She looked up at him and suddenly wanted to make at least this hour something for him to remember with pleasure.
Gwennith reached for the buttons on her dress. Before she could unfasten more than two he reached out and unbuttoned the remaining ones, pushing the dress down over her hips. She gave a wiggle and it slid to the floor. Her small clothes were more difficult and she had to help with the laces of her bodice, but in a moment she stood before him gloriously nude. She was not young, nor was she thin. Full breasts swayed above a rounded abdomen which flowed into generous hips and thighs. She was lush, the way he'd always preferred his partners. He felt the heat rising in him faster than he'd ever remembered it. It had been so long and he was still wired from the battles of the day.
He tilted her chin up and told her honestly. "I'm worried I may hurt you. It's been a long time and I want you."
"You'll not hurt me, Thorin. Best watch that I do not hurt you. It's been a long time for me too." Her smile was wicked. She ran her fingers his chest, exploring the mounds of his pectorals. He reached for his belt to unclasp it but her hands found it first. She slipped the buckle loose and hooked her thumbs in his breeches sliding them down watching as his body was uncovered, the flat of his abdomen and the curling hair that gathered and formed a dark path to his manhood. He assisted her in pulling his pants over his erection, then down to his boots. He kicked them off uncaring where they landed and stood before her gloriously nude. She looked at him and her breath quickened. He saw where her eyes were directed and felt more than a bit of pride in the inheritance that was gift of the Line of Durin.
Thorin reached for her, pulling her to him, seizing her lips in a hard searching kiss. He slid one hand down over her belly and cupped her mons. He held it in his hand and squeezed first softly and then with more pressure as she bucked her hips into him. One finger slid in to tease at her clit, swirling it, dipping down for more moisture to repeat the action. She shivered, her knees going weak. He supported her and lowered her onto the bed. She yielded and laid back waiting for him.
Instead of mounting her he knelt with one leg between her thighs and leaned down to play with her breasts. He wasn't gentle, but he didn't hurt her. Thorin's work roughened hands cupped her, squeezing softly at first and then firmer, lifting her breasts so that his lips had access to first one then the other. She felt the soft scrape of his beard as he first nuzzled her and then took a nipple between his lips and sucked, flicking it hard with his tongue. His teeth rasped as he pulled more of the flesh into his mouth, sucking harder. He alternated between them as if unable to decide which one tempted him more. Her fingers reached down to play with the glorious hair that spread across her chest. What he was doing made her breath catch in her throat and her words dissolve into murmurs and moans of encouragement.
At last he gave each nipple one last kiss and lifted his weight from her moving downward, licking, sucking and nipping as he went. His hair trailed across her abdomen soft as a whisper as he worked downward to her pubes. She could feel his hot breath on her and shivered, but she also tensed.
"You don't have to do this, Thorin. It's not…right." Gwennith's voice was ragged and there was note of urgency in it.
He paused and rose up to look at her. "Don't you like it?"
She blushed. "I…I don't know. No one has ever done it."
Thorin snorted derisively. "Then Men are bigger fools than I've always thought. Stop me if you hate it."
He slid down to better reach her and slid his tongue, dragging slowly upward across her damp curls. As he reached the top he swirled his tongue, teasing her. A shudder coursed through her body and he felt her fingers twine in his hair but she did not pull him away. Encouraged, he teased a little harder feeling her lips part on their own as her heat rose. He circled the swollen pearl of her clit, delving into the exquisitely sensitive area under the hood. Then sliding downward to probe deeply, licking hard. She shuddered, her breath coming in gasps mixed with soft moans.
He paused. "Want me to stop?"
"No…" The answer was a soft moan. "Please…no…"
"Thought as much." Thorin's reply was gruff but a smile played at the corner of his mouth. He bent down again taking her mons into his mouth, sucking and running his tongue up and down. She spread her legs wider and he positioned one over his shoulder, holding her open for his ministrations. He licked down the inside of her thigh and then pressed his lips to her slit, delving deep with his tongue, fucking her as deep as he could, alternating with swipes up to her throbbing clit and back down. She was so wet that he reached down, slid his fingers along her to scoop the excess and then wiped it along his thigh where it sparkled in the candlelight.
When she was sobbing, he slid his hand up her thigh and entered her first with one thick finger and then with two. He slid them in and out easily, enjoying the clenching of her inner muscles as he teased her. He watched his fingers disappearing into her, fascinated as she accepted the invasion and then arched up demanding more. He loved to look at a woman; soft, beautiful and fragile yet able to destroy the strongest man.
He started tonguing her again; harder while his fingers working in and out of her. She rose up, fucking his mouth and fingers. Her words were incoherent, coming in sobs and moans. She grabbed at his hair and slid her fingers through it to reach his head, holding him against her, terrified that he would leave her. He bore down harder and thrust faster, playing her body like his harp.
When she came she arched completely off the bed. If Thorin hadn't had her pinned she would have upended them both onto the floor. He stayed with her and then backed off licking skillfully, avoiding her oversensitive clit, playing with her inner lips and kissing her tenderly.
When she slumped he withdrew his fingers and let her leg back down. Gwennith stretched like a cat and sighed. She raised her head and looked at him, her juices sparkling on his beard and moustache and shook her head.
"Did you really like doing that? I mean, I can't possibly taste good," she said in a shy voice.
Thorin looked as if he didn't know how to reply at first then he just smiled and looked into her eyes. He brought his moistened fingers up and licked them slowly while her eyes widened. He reached out and held his fingers to her lips. She looked at them for a moment, sniffed delicately and then boldly let her tongue flick out to taste. Her eyes widened in surprise. "I don't taste much at all." She smiled. "And I smell good."
Thorin chuckled at her, his eyes smiling. He slid his fingers into her mouth. She sucked them for a moment and then he pulled them out and kissed her, teasing her tongue as he'd teased her clit. She moaned, kissing him harder, pulling on his hair to keep him from moving as she licked and kissed both his lips and his moistened face. He had never had a partner do that before and it sent a bolt of electricity down to the tip of his cock. He was so ready he could hardly bear it, but he wanted to make it the best, proving to them both the difference in their races.
When he could bear it no longer he lifted himself and slid between her legs. She was prepared for his entry but instead he bent and kissed her labia again. Now he knew just where to go and how hard to press. He flicked her clit with the tip of his tongue driving her mad. She shifted and groaned and thrust up for more. When she started grabbing at his hair, he pulled away with a last passionate kiss and pulled her knees up so that his broad hips fit more easily. He took hold of himself and slid the sensitive engorged head up and down, probing at her clit. It felt very different from his tongue, cooler and smoother, making her shiver. When he felt it was time he positioned himself and slid slowly into her.
He was bigger than she expected and her swollen passage clamped down on him, holding and caressing his throbbing cock. He paused for a moment and drew a long shivering breath, trying to gain control lest he only last a moment longer. When he felt the urge had passed he began to move again.
He supported himself on his elbow and leaned down to kiss her hotly. Gwennith met his tongue with hers and churned her hips, taking him as deeply as she could. Thorin was too close and this time he couldn't stay himself. He groaned into her mouth and thrust hard as he spilled himself inside her. She clamped down on him squeezing the last bit of pleasure out of the aftershocks for him. If she was disappointed she said nothing, just holding him as he struggled for breath, his weight heavy on her chest.
It took Thorin several minutes to recover. He didn't withdraw, instead he shifted so that his weight wasn't fully on her. She expected him to stand up at any moment, but he did not. He drew in a great shuddering breath and lifted himself back into position. He bent down and kissed her nipples, his soft hair spreading across her chest like a dark shawl. Thorin pulled himself onto his knees and lifted her legs onto his shoulders. He leaned forward and started to move again.
With her knees over his shoulders Gwennith found that she could barely move at all. He forced her almost double, opening her and leaving her helpless before his assault. Thorin's second wind blew in like a hurricane. Muscles bunched and corded as he powered into her. He was sweating freely, slicking them both so that they shone golden in the candlelight. His hair was a tangle that almost hid his face and his expression. His eyes bored into hers hot and challenging. She'd never had a Dwarf before and he intended to show her the real difference from the pale and scrawny men who had shared her bed. He was power and control and while he may not have a kingdom he ruled over what was his and at this moment that was her.
Gwennith reached up, pushing his hair from his face, cupping his cheeks between her palms. Meeting his gaze with her own look of lust she commanded, "Fuck me! Hard!"
He complied and her hands left his face, grabbing for his arms to steady herself as he slammed into her. She dug her fingers into his biceps holding on and bracing herself so that she could thrust back, meeting his lust with her own. He hammered into her, churning and angling, pounding her body as he would a fine weapon; shaping and tempering, and working it to a fine edge.
Her first orgasm hit her hard, lifting her hips and pushing Thorin backward. He surged forward, working her through it and then slowing so that she could recover. While her breath sobbed and shuddered he moved tenderly, giving her the chance to come down from her peak. When she started tugging on him and whispering for him to fuck her he smiled to himself and bore down again. He shifted her a little so that he was thrusting upward enough to be impacting against the top of her vaginal wall, nudging that soft springy internal pad that would give her the greatest pleasure. To be honest it gave him a lot of pleasure too and he felt his weariness melt away as he lost himself in the sensation of moistness, warmth and pleasure.
He could feel it building in the small of his back, rolling forward and downward like a thunderhead. He wasn't going be able to hold off for very long. He bent down and commanded her, his deep voice rumbling with the storm inside him. "Come for me. Do it. Fuck me!"
She roiled her hips up against him, straining hard enough to push him upward. He slammed into her, using his strength to pull her along with him. He was an avalanche, unstoppable as he gave his body permission to fuck as hard as he could to get the release he needed. He could feel her start to come again, inner walls clenching rhythmically around his cock, making him grunt with pleasure. Her moans were a steady cadence that rose and fell as he thrust. He almost stood on the bed and thrust so hard that he slid her upwards. He threw his head back and cried out as he spurted again and again, filling her as he emptied himself. He held still shivering as the aftershocks tore through him, nearly as pleasurable as the orgasm. When he was spent he released her legs and collapsed onto her as his exhausted muscles gave out.
Gwennith supported his weight, her hand petting his hair, smoothing it back from his face. She cradled him tenderly whispering sweet things that made little sense but made him smile sleepily. At length he rolled over, propping himself against the wall and she slid out from underneath. She kissed his lips and then she kissed his nose playfully.
"Thank you," she murmured against his lips.
He smiled warmly and reached out to cup her face in his calloused hand. "Thank you, sweet Gwennith. You've given me something to dream on. But I'm afraid I'm fading fast."
She slid out of bed and slipped on her clothes. "Dream sweetly, my Dwarf. You will be in my dreams as well." With that she slipped out the door and Thorin watched her leave with a twinge of sadness. The next thing he knew he was waking to find all but one candle guttered out. He returned from taking a piss and found that she had left a large sandwich and a jug of ale next to the burning candle. He chuckled and sat down to eat his supper. He was going to pay for the evening's entertainment tomorrow, but it wouldn't matter. Every ache would remind him of what they'd done and every twinge would be a promise of what was yet to come.