A/N: Morning after the wedding night, Part 2.
He grabs her around her waist and flips her on her stomach. He steadies her pelvis, she slightly spread her legs, and he slides inside her. She cries out and pushes her hips back to meet him. He supports himself on one straight arm but then leans down and whispers to her ear, "Tell me if it is too much."
He starts moving, slowly and deeply into her. She peeks over her shoulder, he closed his eyes, obviously savouring the sensation, and she stretches on the sheets, her arms in front of her, fingers curling into the covers in a feline like movement. The sensations are sweet, overwhelming, and she purrs. His hand strokes her back, fingers running down her spine, and he cups her buttock. He goes on with his long sensual thrusts for a while, and she is dizzy from the feeling of fullness, the pressure, the gentle tap of his tip into her cervix at the end of each movement. His hand roams her body, he strikes her hip, treads his fingers into her hair, and eventually he stretched on her, lowering his torso on his elbow. His palm slides along her arm, and he intertwines his fingers with her small digits. He is kissing her shoulder, and his lips start caressing her shoulder blades.
"Zundushuh..." My bird... "My little Wren..." His hips move more and more forcefully, lifting her pelvis when he plunges into her, and she whimpers. Instinctively she starts lifting her backside, intending to rise on her knees. "No, my heart. Stay like that..." He places his scorching palm on her hip. "Let me enjoy you..."
She moans and relaxes underneath him. He continues his measured rocking, each of his thrusts deliberate and unhurried, lips on the back of her neck. Warmth starts pooling in her lower stomach again, and she cannot help but start to move meeting his thrusts. His hand squeezes her hip, and he pins her to the sheets. She whimpers, seeking her release.
"Stay… I will take you there..." He raspily whispers, and she bites into her bottom lip to gather her will to stay still and limp. He catches her ear between his teeth, his free hand slides under her stomach, he presses her into him, and in a few willful moves he pushes her over the edge. She moans, her muscles clenching around him. The climax is white, hot, spreading through her body, she did not know it can be so breathtaking, slow and devastating. The quivering of her quim spurs him, he purposefully thrusts into her a few more times, and freezes, hissing a swearing through his teeth, and then she feels the spurt of his hot seed hitting her walls, a sensation now familiar from last night, and so very sweet. Her hips involuntarily jerk, her body trying to prolong the sensation. And he drops the second elbow near her and presses his forehead to her nape. She snakes her arm back and wraps it around his heated torso. He is terrifyingly large, strong, hot, and all hers. He is breathing heavily, and she sighs happily.
"It is different from what I thought it was like..." He hums into her nape and then kisses her skin.
"Better or worse?" She shivers from his voice, coarse and smokey, and moves her head to rub her temple to his nose.
"Indubitably better." He chuckles.
"Ever so articulate. Even in our marital bed." His voice is teasing. She giggles.
"I will also tell you, my lord, that I find your concupiscent efforts endlessly prurient." He catches her lobe between his lips, and she giggles again.
"Meaning you have never been fucked so well?" She gasps in feigned indignation, and he guffaws. It is an interesting sensation, since his member is still inside her. He slowly pulls out, and she exhales noisily. He slides on the sheets near her, and they lie on their sides facing each other. A silly shyness overcomes her, and she cannot seem to make herself meet his eyes. She presses her palm onto his chest and gently scrapes his skin.
"I was hiding from you in the bathchambers this morning." She peeks and sees his face is sated and relaxed.
"Why?" He picks up a strand of her hair and twirls it around his finger.
"I was bare, and I am not used to anyone seeing me like that. And last night was… exuberant." He chuckles, and she is pointedly staring at his chest. She momentarily wonders whether she has developed an obsession.
"I would say the last night was rather restrained." Her eyes fly to his face. She feels immediately panicked. He was not satisfied. He is studying her face. And then grabs the back of her head and pulls her very close to his face. "I had never in my life been so pleased with a night with a woman as I was last night." She tries to twist out of his grasp, he reads her too easily. "My heart, no need to feel insecure. All I meant that I cannot have enough of you. But we have every night and every day for that from now on." She sighs and hides into him. His hand lazily runs up and down her back. "We have matters to discuss, azyungeluh." She is momentarily distracted by sentimental fluttering in her chest from my love moniker, but then she pulls herself together.
She sits up and then realizes her feet are on the pillow. She crawls and sits her back to the headboard. She is fighting an urge to cover up with the blanket. He is watching her with smiling eyes, no doubt aware of her bashful anxiety. To retaliate she runs her fingers under his knee and finds out the King Under the Mountain is ticklish. He shifts and sits near her. And then after a moment of consideration he pulls her to his lips, his hands buried in her curls, and kisses all sense out of her. One weak thought thrashes in her mind. He is surprisingly cuddlesome for the domineering and intimidating King Under the Mountain. At the moment he is kissing her for the sake of rather innocent caressing, not aiming for anything more, and he is very playful. He moves away, and she is out of breath.
"Are you taking herbs to prevent conception, my lady?" His tone is sober, and she blinks. She would probably feel upset that he remains so unaffected by their kisses if his member did not stand erect right in front of her. And then the question reaches her understanding. The professional side of her mind switches on, and she nods.
"I started taking them right after you came to Bree to take me away," she smiles at the memories of his astonishing appearance in her infirmary. "It is indeed a matter to discuss, my lord." He nods but he is silent. She appreciates him passing the initiative in this question to her. "I would assume my King is hoping for an heir." He picks up her hand and presses it to her lips. She can see he is smiling into her skin. "I am fecund and healthy." He opens his mouth but she presses her finger over his lips. It is her expertise, and she feels confident and calm now. "But even if you are as well, it is an unprecedented matter, a marriage between a woman of Men and a Dwarf. Bearing such child could be dangerous, both for the babe and for me." His eyes become sharp and tense.
"Dangerous?"
"The babe would be large, perhaps too large. And the gestation term is different. I have given it a lot of thought, my lord." He is listening attentively, her hand still grasped in his. "I would need some time to prepare, there are herbs to take and perhaps I would need to gain some weight. I seem rather exhausted recently. All the excitement of the wedding..." He nods solemnly, and she notices he is not looking at her. She understand he does not want to pressure her, and her heart clenches from tenderness and love. He chose her as his wife, understanding that perhaps he was giving up the possibility of an heir.
"Thorin," her calm assertive tone makes him look into her eyes, "Men and Elves have children together, there is hope for us." She cups his face and gently kisses his lips. "I have all the herbs prepared, I can start on the course as soon as possible. For the first few moons they can be combined with the ones preventing conception. So we can continue our intimacy. But later we would have to be careful, not for long, but we will have to refrain from it on some days." He chuckles, she notices he is relieved.
"I know where children come from, my Queen. We will avoid the fertile days, and there are other ways..."
She moves closer to him and murmurs, "I am looking forward to all your ways, my lord." He chuckles.
"Temptress," she throws her leg over him and rubs her thigh to his. He halts her with his hand and smirks. "Have I woken up a fire mountain that has been asleep for years?" She bites his shoulder, and her next question makes his eyes widen in shock.
"Is this your poetic way of asking me if I have acquired a taste for your fucking?" She is looking directly into his eyes, and he is suddenly out of words. She straddles him again. "Then the answer is yes." He drops his head back and gives out a throaty bark of laughter.
"I might have bitten more than I can chew here. But my libidinous Queen has to wait, there is another matter to discuss." She tilts her head. Surely, if he wanted to have a serious conversation he should not stroke her buttocks in sensuous circular movements. "Your coronation is in three days, and you will need to take a Dwarven name after it."
She halts her exploration of his throat with her lips and straightens up. "I will be obliged to take a new name?" She feels a prickle of anger. She has already given up her former life, signed a rather humiliating contract before her wedding, and pronounced depreciating vows at the ceremony. She did not expect to be forced to give up her name. She frowns, and he tenderly runs the tips of his fingers between her drawn brows.
"You will become the Queen of Erebor, my heart. Like any Dwarf, you will need a true name." She immediately feels remorse for her anger. He is not asking her to give up her name, he is giving her a new one. Dwarves use their outer names, guarding their true ones and keeping them secret. "What is your father's name?"
She sighs. They have not discussed her childhood before. "I am not certain who my father was. I doubt it was the man who thought to be one." She chews on her bottom lip, but decides that she owes him open and honest answer. "And Wren is not the name I was given at birth. I chose it myself when I ran away from home." He is giving her a sharp penetrating look. He is not pressing the matter, and she is grateful. "I would prefer to discuss my past some other day, my lord." She strokes his collarbone with her fingers, and he nods.
"So it is just Wren?" His tone is tender. "No family names, no patronymic, just Wren?" She bites at her bottom lip bashfully and nods. He smiles warmly and cups her face. "Then it is your true name. You are Wren, and Wren is you." She meets his shining eyes and feels tears sting her eyes. No one has ever accepted her fully as he seems to. For a few seconds it is just the two of them in this world, their eyes locked, their breaths mixing, and suddenly they are tangled in the sheets again, their bodies intertwined, lips caressing, hands roaming each other's bodies, moans and soft cries mixing in the silence of their chambers, and no words are said for the longest time, except another's name breathed out and feverish murmurs whispered into flesh.
He is crushing her again, his body limp and heavy after another exhilarating climax. Since she went through another two, she is not certain that she did not die just now. He stirs and groans. Her legs slide off his waist, where they were tightly wrapped a few instants ago, and he weakly strokes her knee.
"But if I were to take a Dwarven name, since Queen Wren does sound rather ridiculous," she is staring at the ceiling, "What would it be?"
His forehead is pressed into the sheet near her head, and he exhales, his hot damp breath hitting the skin on her neck. She tries to shift away from the tickling, and he groans again. His member is still inside her.
"Zundushinh." Birdlady… His tone is surprisingly reverent. He lifts his head and meets her eyes. She is staring at him, her heart pounding in her chest. "You are who you are, and nothing will change it. Even marrying me." She throws her arms around his neck and sobs. She lets her happy tears spill without a shadow of embarrassment.
"Thank you, oh thank you," she is laughing and crying at the same, and he kisses her chastily. "I will wear this name with honour." He smiles to her and wipes her tears with his thumb.
"Do you like it then?"
"I love it!" She is laughing and peppers his face with small kisses. "And I love you!"
The words fall off her lips with a surprising ease, and she freezes. She is mortified. Such words have not been pronounced between them. Perhaps, some declarations were murmured before, but never in Common speech. She feels blush spilling on her cheeks and an absurd thought of rolling from under him and bolting into the bathchambers comes to her mind. And then he smiles, warmth and love splashing in his eyes unrestrained, and he lowers his face to hers and whispers into her lips, his burning blue eyes impossibly close, "And I you."
