A/N: Yes, RagdollPrincess, you are right. There was tearing of clothes, there was biting, there were oh so many rounds (ehehehe :P seven to be precise :P), and indeed our King is a very investigative Dwarf. Anybody else wants to remind me of something specific? ;D
His hands lie on your waist, and you moan into his mouth. It seems to encourage him, and the grip on you tightens. And you finally do what you dreamt about so many times and push your hands into his glorious mane. The hair, though thick and disheveled, is surprisingly soft, and you grab generous handfuls. And then feeling very greedy, you push your fingers deeper, and the tips of your fingers touch a copper band in them. It is locked around a thick lock of his ebony strands. Your other hand runs into another braid hidden in the mass of his waves. It is so unusual and so arousing that you lose all heedfulness and press your body into him head to toe.
He emits some sort of a choked noise, slightly moves away and presses his forehead to yours. You can see he is breathing heavily. And then you panic at the thought that he might decide to retract. You are not going to let him! You grab the hem of his brigandine on his hips and jerk it up. Since his hands were on your shoulders, you achieve very little success, but your intention is quite obvious. He is still and stares you in the eyes. It feels as if you are playing chess, and it is his move now.
He lifts his arms, and you pull it off. How many layers is he covered in? The tunic underneath is velvet, embroidered, swan-necked, tiny buttons going down on the front. You inhale and touch the top one with your fingers. He suddenly covers your hands with a large hot palm.
"Have you ever been with a man, honourable healer?" He is raspy. You feel your cheeks burning, and you nod without looking at him. And then he makes a little noise, and you lift your eyes to see what it is. He is smirking lopsidedly. Apparently the King Under the Mountain just snorted at you. "You do not seem very confident, my lady. Has it been that long ago?" The nerve in him! You are so astonished by the mischief and mirth gleaming in his eyes that you forget yourself and smack his chest. And then freeze petrified by your own boldness.
You both are staring at your hand pressed over his heart. And then he picks it and pulls it to his lips. He presses a hot kiss to your palm, and you feel your inner walls clench. And then he slightly bites into your flesh at the base of your thumb. Such sensual action is so unexpected that you whimper. He lifts his brilliant icy eyes at you, his mouth still on your palm. Whatever he sees in your face makes him smile into your skin and bite again.
You lift your other hand and grab his ear. For the life of you, you do not know why you did it, but his large ears have been fascinating you for a while. You gently rub the helix and the lobe between your thumb and index finger, and it immediately starts burning. So not just the beard, the ears too. You shift and have a look at another, equally red ear. He puffs some air as if to show disdain, but you can see his cheekbones are flushed as well. Is he embarrassed of his big Dwarven ears? Because you find them adorable. You take away your hand and give the second one the same attention.
Something rumbles deep inside his chest, and he presses his mouth to yours. He seems to be getting increasingly more confident, and one of his palms lies on the top of your buttock. Your whole body is so sensitive by now that you can almost feel the imprint of his palm on your skin like a brand. You consider asking him to put the second one somewhere there as well, but then you feel it on the lacing on the back of your dress. Even better!
As you already know, Dwarven fingers are surprisingly deft, and he quickly finds the hidden end of the string. There is a pause, his lips are moving on yours, and then he pulls. He is too eager, and it slips out fully, and he is left with it in his hand. The back of your dress opens, and his hand lies on the gausy material of the undertunic. You cannot silence a moan.
You push yourself from him and start quickly opening the buttons on his tunic, internally thanking the years of practicing surgery for your dextrosity. It opens up, and you push it off his shoulders. There is still another shirt underneath, but the heat and the intoxicating smell of his skin radiate from him, and you bite into your bottom lip.
He leans in and presses a kiss to your jaw, and then your ear, and then an open mouthed one on your neck. You drop your head back and grab his ears again. And then his hands lie on your shoulders and twitch on the neckline of your dress. You hold your breath. Will he dare pushing it down? The palms slide on your back again. You chuckle, and he slightly nips the skin on your neck in retaliation. You knees are weak, although you always thought it is just a figure of speech.
"Perhaps..." You wince from the squeakiness of your own voice, "Perhaps we should sit..." Let us be honest, you meant lie down, but just could not bring yourself to pronounce it. He halts, and you step back from him. You realize the two of you have been standing in the middle of your dim room for quite a while now, the sun is setting, and it is almost dark.
You decisively walk to your desk and light the lamp. He is still at the same spot, and you take a deep calming breath in. And then you sit down on the edge of your bed and pat the covers near you. There is a moment of hesitation, but then he makes a couple wide steps and sits near you. His large hands are on his knees, and he has this amusing expression on his face. It is half eager and anticipative, and half irked again.
You tilt your head. Since you have been shamelessly ogling him at any given opportunity for months now, you have learnt the small twitches and jerks of his features. Although to some his face might seem reserved and dispassionate, you see a small fluttering of the lashes and tense corners of his lips. The King is nervous and, as you have just learnt to recognise the signs, he is very much affected by your closeness.
And then you give him a small smile and lean in. You halt an inch away from his lips and let him make a step. His large palm cups your face, and he meets you, his eyes closing, and the other arm wrapping around your middle. He pulls you closer, and you scoot on the bed. For a few minutes you two are kissing, and now his hands are roaming your back. One of them slides under the open half of the dress and grazes your side. You jerk.
He is kissing your neck, and you tilt your head. And then you notice that he is murmuring something. It is Khuzdul, and you try to concentrate. It rather difficult, his hot lips slide up and down your tendons, he is becoming bolder, you feel his tongue tentatively slip on your skin, and your thoughts jumble. You hear "gehye" and "fillith", and you blush in pleasure. He is comparing your skin to feathers of a white dove. You feel especially giddy since he does it not knowing you understand him. It is not a ploy of seduction, but a pure expression of his admiration.
His palm slides at the back of your neck, fingers encircle it, his scorching body moves closer, another arm around your waist, and he is holding you, slightly slanting you to his convenience. He is more and more daring, he pushes the collar of your undertunic with his nose, and his lips are on your collarbone. Then his mouth is back on your neck, and he bites into the tender skin there. You gasp, he is sucking, and surely there will be a mark there tomorrow.
You grab handfuls of his hair and pull gently. He lifts his face, and you see giant black pupils and slightly swollen lips. Keeping your eyes locked, you take his hands off your body and, painfully biting your lips, you pick up the bottom of his shirt. There is a smile dancing in his eyes, and he lifts his arms. They are massive, and for a second you are flooded by the realization of the enormous strength residing in this body, and then the shirt flies on the floor.
You are frozen in front of his naked torso, he is sitting still. It takes all your willpower to tear your eyes from the wide chest, the bulging pectoral muscles, the thick black hair, and numerous white scars, oh Maiar, help you… You lift your eyes, and see a smug smirk on his lips. Cantankerous, self-assured, conceited… That will not do.
You grab the shoulders of your dress and pull them down. The bodice pools around your waist, and he loudly sucks in air. The undertunic is sheer, your teats are tense and protruding, and his eyes are fixed on the small peaks. You shortly wonder if he has ever seen a naked woman. Probably, virgin or not, he has travelled a lot, and surely there were encounters. Common bathrooms and such. And then you momentarily question your sanity. There is a half naked man sitting in front of you, and you are musing on the bathroom organization around the world.
You lift your hand and hesitantly touch him with the tips of your fingers. He hisses, you have cold hands. You jerk it back, "Forgive me..." He suddenly guffaws, and you lift your brows at his unrestrained merriment. "Please, do feel free to continue," his tone is impish, and he is smiling. You press the whole palm to his sternum, where the hair is especially thick, and tread your fingers through it. And then you smile back, wrap the second arm around his neck, and catch his mouth. He embraces you, and you are once again astonished on how much warmer his skin is. As if there is a fire burning in him, he is scorching, and you are enveloped in his heat. Through just the thin gauzy fabric of your undertunic, his chest and arms are charring.
He pulls you even closer, you are almost sitting on his lap, and then he suddenly picks you up under your arms and puts you on your feet in front of him. For a moment you are looking down at him in confusion, while he is staring at your breasts that ended up right in front of his long nose. And then he blinks and lifts his face to you. "I presume you will not be needing your dress, honourable healer?" You are very much enjoying his merry smile, you have never seen it before this night. There are small wrinkles in the corners of his gleaming eyes. You chuckle and push the dress down to the floor. The undertunic only reaches mid thigh.
He carefully places his palms on your waist and pulls you closer. You step out of the dress, and then your libido emits an undoubtedly Dwarven battle cry, and you push yourself into him. There is an instant when you see his remarkable eyes widen, and then the two of you are falling on the bed.
You are splayed on top of him, every possible inch of your bodies is touching, and something you never allowed yourself to even think about is rudely reminded to you. Dwarves are much more generously endowed than Men. Maiar help you, what are you going to do with all this opulence?