I do not own The Hobbit, Middle Earth or anything associated with The Lord of the Rings nor The Hobbit franchise. This is my attempt at fluff; I am not good at fluff, so if it sucks, well, you know why. As per usual, reviews/comments are welcomes and adored.
It is not until after the hobbit saves Thorin from Azog, that the dwarf king notices just how special the little burglar is, and thinks about just how much he's giving up, for a hoard of dwarves he's never met before, who raided his house and pillaged his pantry. Thorin can't help but feel a little bit guilty and probably more interested in the halfling than is strictly healthy, but he is a king, and a king may do as he wishes. That's what he tells himself when he spends a little too long studying –gazing, if you ask his nephews- Bilbo Baggins at least.
One night, Bilbo is laying on a flat rock, slightly out of the immediate camping area, eyes trained on the stars when Thorin elects to join him. If the hobbit is confused by the other dwarf's presences, he does not show it, and they lay in a companionable silence for a good while.
"Why?" Thorin's voice is deep and throaty and it sends jolts down Bilbo's spine.
"Excuse me?" The hobbit is suitably perplexed, and he pushes himself up with his forearms to gaze at the dwarf king.
"Why did you come?" Seeing the flash of hurt across the smaller man's face, Thorin nearly slaps himself for his stupidity "Do not misunderstand, I am glad you came, more so than you can ever imagine, but I would like to know why? You'd never met any of us before, and then a crack-pot old wizard draws a funny symbol on your door and suddenly there's thirteen dwarves eating your food, moving your furniture and asking you to travel across the realm to fight a dragon. What on Middle Earth possessed you?" The dark haired dwarf had gradually pushed himself into a sitting position and was now staring into beautiful blue eyes.
"You. You were my reason for coming. Your eyes, they were so unbelievably haunted, so captivating. Then, you sung, of the tragedy of your people and I just couldn't let you go without at least trying to help." Bilbo replies, his hand reaching out to stroke the tanned skin of Thorin's cheek and the king leans into the touch ever so slightly.
"Are you happy? I am aware of your peoples preference for comfort and simple pleasures, but you are not, truly unhappy with us, are you?" Thorin sounded so much like an insecure child that Bilbo's heart skipped a beat. Never had he seen the normally firm man so vulnerable.
"I wasn't to start with. I loathed it. I missed my home and my books, but after a while, those things became less important. And I started to enjoy myself a little, when we weren't running from wargs and freezing our backsides off, or nearly being eaten by trolls." Bilbo's honesty is both refreshing and painful in equal measures, because Thorin is aware that he's been anything but kind to his hobbit.
"I do not believe we would have made it this far without you little one." Thorin's face is inching ever closer to his hobbits, and when Bilbo next speaks, his lips are perhaps a half inch from the dwarf's.
"You have no absolutely no idea what that means to me."
It is at this point, his Tookish blood rears its head, and Bilbo has closed the gap between their lips; lips Bilbo has wanted to taste for longer than he will ever admit. Thorin's surprise is short lived, and soon he is kissing the man back, tongue asking for entrance which is freely given, and Thorin swears in that moment, he has never been happier.
Until the hobbit –who had somehow managed to shift himself so he was astride the taller mans' thighs- nibbles on his lower lip and Thorin cannot help the groan that passes his lips or the jump of his cock as he rocks his hips upwards reflexively. An action that earns a slightly harsher bite to his slightly abused lower lip and a rough tug at his hair, which is being played with by an apparently very naughty hobbit. Soon the need to breathe becomes too great, and they pull apart slightly, greedily gulping in the cool night air.
Bilbo's hands are stilled as they near the tops of Thorin's breaches, and the hobbit instantly flushes, assuming he has overstepped his boundaries and tries to shift himself from atop the crownless king, whose strong arms wrapped around Bilbo's waist.
"Be still, my little hobbit. I want you, by Aulë I want you, but you are precious to me, and I wish to do things properly. If you'll have me that is." Thorin whispers against the hobbits throat, and Bilbo feels himself harden even further –if that is hobbitly possible-.
"Properly?" Bilbo knows what this means in hobbit society, but dwarves are such a strange bunch, that he is unsure of the connotations.
"Aye, I would like to court you, Master Baggins." The reply is spoken softly and if Bilbo didn't know better, he'd swear the king dwarf was almost shy.
"I would like that very much. But doesn't courting require a chaperone at all times? And nothing further than the holding of hands?" Bilbo smirks lightly as he rolls his hips. His actions rewarded with yet another groan.
"Perhaps, a little propriety may be neglected" Thorin growls, his hobbit rocking against his straining cock teasingly. "I always believed hobbits to be bookish and good and chaste."
"Oh most of them are, but my mother was a Took, and they're really rather unconventional. Though I do not believe any of them have ever straddled a dwarf king in the middle of a forest whilst on a quest." Bilbo's smirk is positively sinful, and it takes all of Thorin's will not to flip them over and fuck his hobbit until he is a shaking puddle of need and lust, so he settles for capturing his lips in a searing kiss.
"Ahem. And what, exactly are you two doing? I wasn't aware it was proper for those who decide to court to cavort so frivolously." Fili's voice is mirthful and the young dwarf is having an unbelievably hard time not grinning like a cat when Bilbo jumps, blushing like a naughty child caught stealing a cookie before dinner.
Kili has no such qualms, and his lips are parted in the most devilish grin ever, and when his uncle growls low in his throat, the grin becomes full out laughter. Fili joining in moments later when a thoroughly abashed Bilbo tucks his head under the curve of their uncles throat.
"You have until the count of three to run." Thorin's face is deadly, and his threat quells most of their sniggers, though the occasional one breaks through.
"One." The brothers take a step back.
"Two" Kili shifts slightly so he is behind Fili, he loves his brother, but all is fair in love and running for your hide from an angry Thorin. And both dwarves are gone before three, leaving the older men laughing at their expense as they lay under the stars.
