WEDDING NIGHT
"You appear to be more anxious than your bride, my lord," your voice shakes him out of his preoccupation. You two are standing in front of your sleeping chambers that you are to enter as a married couple for the first time. His hand is on the heavy wood of the door, but he is immobile. He looks at you askew and pushes the door. You confidently walk by him, through the parlour and into the bed chambers. You have overseen their organizing and decoration, a large bed with a heavy green canopy is prepared for the night, fire burning in a firepit.
You stand in the middle and turn to him. He is strangely hesitant, you see his fists are clenched. "My lord?" You do not doubt his fervour for you. In the short two months that have passed since he showed up in your infirmary after seven years of your hopeless longing for him he could hardly stay away from you. Your embraces have been always on the border of lewd, always leaving you both disheveled, your clothes in disarray, so often at the wrong time. How many times have you been dragged into linen pantries and dark alcoves in the passages, his greedy hot lips and palms on every uncovered inch of your skin?
The first time you two were alone when he came to Bree to take you to Erebor, he ardently said that he wished to marry you and possess your heart and your body as your husband. You unsurprisingly agreed, leant in and pressed your lips to his in a decisive kiss. Few very pleasurable minutes later he gravely announced that he would wait till your wedding night to know your body. You agreed, certain he would not last. You were wrong.
And now, instead of a passion overwhelmed, endlessly appetizing and skillful lover, you find yourself with a rigid, frowning Dwarf, frozen in the middle of the chamber, whose face can only be described as peevish. "My lord?" You start giggling. Perhaps it is nerves but he looks endlessly amusing. "Is there something not to your liking, my King?"
"No, of course not," he steps to you and picks up your hands, "You are right, my heart, I am anxious. You are essentially a maiden, and I… I sometimes find it hard to control myself." You school your face in a neutral expression. Perhaps it is slightly early for him to know that most of your libidinous fantasies include a unbridled lustful male pressing your body into sheets while his hips are thrusting into you deeply and roughly. In the last seven years the outline of the heavy wide body in your dreams is definitely Dwarven. There might be growls and roars somewhere there in your dreams, as well as, and you will have to keep it to yourself at least for a while, your wrists grasped in strong controlling hands. Sometimes those very large hands are tied to bedpost. You have diverse fantasies.
You are also a healer and familiar with the anatomy of a Dwarf. And that part is rather alarming. Whatever Dwarves lack in height, they compensate in width. And all their extremities are build accordingly. Also, you have felt the King's length, though through several layers of fabric, pressed to you many times by now. The length alarms you too.
You step to him and wrap your arms around his neck. His honesty makes your heart flutter. You do have a lot of openness and trust to build, but that is the first step. You understand that such confession was not easy to make. You smile and kiss the beloved lips. "You are right, my lord, it has been more than ten years since I bedded a man, and I have to confess," you cup his face with your right palm, "I hardly remember how it is done." He does not miss the mischievous glint in your eyes and chuckles.
"You will find the mechanics are rather simple, my lady." You smile into his eyes.
"I will not take offense, my lord, if you happen to lose command over your passion. Your current coldness is much more disturbing."
"I am not cold, I am considerate!" He lifts his brows in surprised indignation.
"And a grouch!" You gently tap the tip of your finger on his nose. The brows hike higher. You laugh.
He is fighting a smile and loses. Then he presses you into him and catches your mouth. You hum in approval and bury your hands into his hair. It is silken, heavy, and your fingers meet hidden braids. You grab handfuls of the strands at the back on his head, and he rumbles.
Then his hands slide on your shoulders, and he unclasps your long cape. It is embroidered with gold, priceless gems adorning it high collar. The heavy white velvet falls on the floor. The same patterns cover the dress, the same white velvet, brocade starting at the low collar going down to the hem, the adornment thicker, increasingly more opulent and gems more numerous the closer it gets to the hem. It is heavy and hot now that you are near a fire pit. But that is obviously not the main reason why you want to shed it as soon as possible.
His hands are on your back and he deftly pulls on the strings of lacing holding it together. You feel his fingers graze your shoulder blades in the low cut of the undertunic, and you shiver. Your back is very sensitive. You feel that the dress is open, cool air on your spine, and you start pulling on the collar. He covers your hands with his and halts you. His eyes are dark, and his jaw is clenched.
"Perhaps we should move slower, my heart."
"We are not moving at all!" He stares at you. You are getting impatient. You grab the collar of the detestable dress and jerk it down. Then you swiftly move your shoulders from side to side, and it falls on the floor.
The undertunic is gauzy and reaches your knees. The King gulps. "You are overdressed, my lord." You think that perhaps he will react to a more authoritative tone. You unclasp the buckle and throw the belt aside. He looks as if he wants to run. He also is looking at your breasts, which you find at least slightly promising. You grab his hand and put it on your breast. "Which one of us seems to have forgotten the proceedings, my lord?" He lifts his eyes from the view of his large palm covering your peak and stares at you.
Then the other massive palm cups the back of your head, and he pulls you into a fierce kiss. You step closer, trying to mold your body into his. Your hands slide under the hem of his tunic, and he hisses. You have cold hands. You also make a delightful discovery. The King Under the Mountain is ticklish. You store the knowledge for later, not without a small sample. He squirms out of your hands, and then the Dwarf that enraptured you all those years ago is back. He pounces, in a low fluid motion cuts you down under your knees, and throws you across the room on the bed.
You land with an "oomph" and start laughing. He darts to the bed, waistcoat and tunic flying off, and he is pulling on the strings on his breeches. You lean back on the bed, supporting your upper body on your elbows, and lift a brow. He kneels on the edge of the bed and grabs your ankles. Then he pulls you closer, spreading your legs. Your hands lie on the wide chest, covered in thick, coarse chest hair, muscles hard, sculpted, numerous white scars. You slide your palms up and down, completely enticed, and realize that he is studying your face. "You seem to be enjoying yourself, my Queen."
"I have never felt… This..." Apparently arousal hinders your eloquence. Who knew? "Only on the wounded." His lips twitch.
"Have you been feeling your patients, my lady?" You curl your fingers and dig your nails into his hot skin as a punishment. He hisses. You open your mouth to apologise but them notice his facial expression. That is not displeasure at all.
Your mouth goes dry. You wrap your legs around his hips and pull him closer. He is obviously willing, since you would not have moved this massive weight if he were to resist. He pushes you down, and his body covers yours. Seven years ago he had you spread on the kitchen table, and the memories deprived you of sleep night after night.
He is kissing you, and all thought vacates your head. Except for the thought of the hot, massive length that is pressing into your thigh. He is also very heavy, and you gasp for breath. He lifts his torso on his elbows, and then his lips slide on your throat. "Thorin…" You rarely use his name, but it feels natural in the intimacy of your sleeping chambers. You feel his tongue on the tendons of your neck, and then his white teeth nip your skin. You feel dizzy.
One palm slides on your breast, and then he moves lower, he pulls on the shoulder of your undertunic with his teeth, and you arch your back. His lips are hot, demanding, he is sucking on your collar bone, and it almost hurts. You inner muscles clench, and you feel that your drawers are wet. Your hands are roaming his shoulders, and then he closes his lips on your nipple. You cry out. It feels as if no one has ever touched you like that before. To think of it, it is indeed so. You suddenly feel faint, and the professional part of your mind leaps into action. You notice the elevated pulse, trembling muscles, laboured breathing, and realize that your body is not coping. You need to slow down if you want to spend your wedding night conscious.
He is pulling on your undertunic, his lips on your stomach, and his tongue dives lower and lower, slick and confident. You bite your lips and grab his shoulder. "Thorin, you have to halt..." He does not hear, and his lips close over your sex through the drawers. You cry out and start twisting out of his hands. They seem to be everywhere, and it is too fast, too much, his smell all over your skin, his heat burning you. "Please, Thorin, you have to stop..."
His body goes rigid, and he lifts his face. It is confused and hurt, and you are biting your lip harder. This is not what you wanted your wedding night to be, you wanted him, and you wanted his passion. You are panicking, and the more you panic, the more you panic that you panic, and then… You are taking short spasmodic breaths.
He shifts his weight and slides on the bed near you. He pulls you into him and wraps his arms around you. You realize that your undertunic is around your waist, he pulled it down, and your drawers slid down to the middle of your hips. You hide your face into his neck. "Forgive me, my heart," his voice is soft and remorseful, "just like I was afraid..."
"No, no, it is my fault, I wanted it so much, and I forgot that I am not good at it..." He lifts your chin and makes you look at him.
"There is no comparing, you are my One, my wife, you are the best for me. And besides," he gently kisses your lips and smiles, "We do not know yet what you are like at that."
"It just suddenly became too much..." You are blushing. Where is the confident temptress of a few minutes ago?
He nods and kisses you again. The kisses are guarded and gentle. You pull back and slide your hand on his chest. You realize you might have found your favourite place to rest your palms. "I wanted to show you, my lord, that you do not need to contain yourself, that I want all of your passion, all of your fervour… But I seem to have achieved exactly the opposite." You look at him, and his face is soft and loving.
"What would you like right now, my heart? Perhaps you need to take command for a while, it will let you feel more at ease." You ponder your options. You were not lying, you can hardly remember what transpired between you and your former lover.
"Would you allow me a bit of exploration, my lord?" He courteously nods. You snort. He looks very decorous with that slightly tilted nod of his. And the naked chest and half open breeches.
You inhale and sit up. He stays on the bed, simply rolling on his back. You pull off your undertunic and after a moment of hesitation your drawers. His lips twitch but he stays still. You straddle his legs and reach for the strings on his breeches. Your fingers jerk a bit, but then you pick up the ends and pull. Everything should be familiar. You have cut clothes off numerous warriors, pulled them off bloodied bodies, unfortunately had to treat different lovers diseases. Nothing in your experience seems to be helping right now. You are weirdly terrified.
You open up the fly and pull the trousers down. He lifts his hips, his hands still on the sheets on the sides of his body, and he is silent. The breeches follow the rest of the clothes, and you are staring at his member. You feel a foolish urge to ask for permission to do anything else but then remember that that is your husband underneath you. The thought erupts in your mind like fire in a forge. Husband… You smile widely and look into his eyes. He smiles back without understanding, just sharing your elation.
"I just realized we are married." His smile gets wider, white teeth gleaming.
"Was that the view of my member that made you finally perceive it?" You laugh.
"Yes, apparently it possesses magical qualities! Clears minds, elevates spirits, wakes up desires..." You are murmuring and lowering your mouth on it. You keep your eyes locked with his and touch the head with the tip of your tongue.
"Mahal…" He groans, his pupils are enormous. You wrap your fingers at the base. "No, not this..." His hand is pressed into your shoulder not allowing you to bend down. "I might not have ten years of chastity behind my shoulders, but I have been waiting for this night too, my heart." You lick your lips.
"You allowed me exploration, my lord." He is hesitant. You slide your palm up and swirl your thumb on the tip. He drops his head into the pillows.
"Mahal, so good..."
You lower your lips and envelop the head. It is very thick and momentarily you think after tonight you might have trouble walking. Or sitting down. But you will worry about it later, at the moment you are preoccupied. The taste is amazing, and you moan. He growls. You guess, the vibration of your mouth traveled. You moan louder and swirl your tongue on the ridge of the glans. He grabs handfuls on the sheets.
You let him out and stretch on the bed between his legs. You take your time, having a good look, exploring with the tips of your fingers, occasional licks and eventually with a long deep suck. He grabs your shoulders and throws you off his body. He is breathing heavily and rubs his face with his palms. "Have you done that before, my lady?" His voice is low and gruff, and you feel momentarily embarrassed. You have done something wrong.
"No, I have not." He looks at you, his face unreadable. He shakes his head, and pulls you into a kiss. You want to enjoy it but your stubborn nature mixed with wound up nerves do not let you move forward. You also might feel silly tears coming, and you bite into your lip. You decide here and there that you are not going to shy away from this, you want trust and understanding in all spheres in this marriage. "I am sure I can improve my skills."
"Please, don't," his voice is peevish, and you flinch away. Then he finally notices your face. "Oh, Mahal, no, that is not what I meant! It was too good, too fast," he is kissing your cheeks now, "I would have spilled my seed, had you not stopped. I asked since you obviously do not know the signs of the approaching release."
You sigh in relief. "I would still like some mentoring, my lord."
He smiles widely. "Of course, but first..."
He flips you on the bed and takes a position between your legs imitating your previous one. You instinctively press your knees together but then you look into his eyes and relax. You spread your legs, and he smiles. His eyes are on your folds, and you feel your cheeks burning.
"Did you know that they are all different and there are not two that are the same, my lord?" He smirks and licks the tip of his index finger. Your walls clench in anticipation.
"Since we have established that you have never given such favours, my Queen, have you ever received any?" The finger slides just outside the folds, and you exhale sharply.
"No, not from a man..." His lips are on the inside of your thigh, and you whimper.
"A Dwarf perhaps?" He is kissing closer to your wet curls.
"No…" He places a small kiss on the mound and then gently licks the clit.
"An Elf?"
"No!" You yelp, and his lips stop on your folds. "I mean, yes, yes to what you are doing, my lord, and no, definitely no to an Elf. Ugh no..." He chuckles, and the beard scratches your inner thigh. That might be one of the most erotic sensations you have ever experienced in your life.
"Let me think, who is left..." He switches sides and the sensitive skin on the other side receives the same treatment.
"Not a man, as in a woman." He was lowering his mouth on your sex, and he freezes. "Oh, I forgot to mention this, did I not?" He lifts his burning eyes at you. "You did not ask though, my lord. You asked whether I ever loved and bedded another man, and were there any in those seven years, and there were none." You shrug in a feigned nonchalance. You are enjoying the view. The delectable, aroused King Under the Mountain between your thighs, lips pink and glossy, eyes wide open, what is there not to enjoy?
"And how many of them were there?" You lift your index finger and show it to him. He lifts a brow.
"I am not a lecherous Dwarf to gallop through lands in search for diversity in carnal pleasures. It was a union of kindred spirits." He is pondering.
"I do not know which would have been worse. Knowing that you had many lovers, or that you had one but it was of spiritual nature. And involved this," he points at your sex with his eyes.
You get slightly offended. That is not the reaction you expected. "And you, my lord? How many lovers have you had?"
"Quite a lot," he concedes and then asks, "What happened?"
"Are we to discuss it now? I thought we had other matters to attend."
"We have all night," he is persisting.
"I am getting cold, my lord." He rubs your thighs and stomach with his palms.
"Perhaps we should move under the covers." You nod.
You two settle under the sheets and blankets, bodies not touching, but close enough, his hand stroking your hip. He is holding your hand in another one and is kissing your knuckles. You sigh, nothing seems to be going the way you imagined this night. "She was a healer as well, but also a thief," you chuckle, and his brows hike up. "A disgrace to our craft. She travelled from Gondor, we worked together in the infirmary. She was experienced, I… I would not accept another man, but that somehow felt different, it felt as a continuation of our friendship," you stroke his chest, "But then I realized it was not. Man or woman, it does not matter. It is still giving yourself and sharing yourself. I promised you, my lord, when you left me in Bree, that I would not have another, and I felt I was breaking the promise. So I broke it off, she left."
"You did not owe me anything, my heart." He still looks slightly pleased, although trying to hide it. Smug Dwarf.
"I think, it was not for you, my lord. I know myself. I made that promise not in a heat of a moment, but knowing that it is final. I was not to belong to anyone else, and not to possess anyone else. I am and always have been yours."
"And I am yours," he pulls you into a gentle kiss, and you relax into him. He is so hot, solid, and you arch your back, wishing to feel every inch of his scorching skin. Then you wrap a leg around him, and your sex presses into his length. One inch in height difference turns out to be rather convenient. Your rub the arch of your foot to his calf.
There is so much coarse hair everywhere, and you giggle. Then you slide your palm down from the chest and splay your fingers on his abdomen. "So much hair," you have not realize you are talking out loud.
He chuckles into your neck. He mimics your movement, and his hand splays on your stomach. "So smooth," the calluses scrape your skin, and you tingle from head to toe.
Then the hot palm moves lower, and he gently dip the very tip of his middle finger between your folds. You exhale sharply and giggle again. His eyes fly to your face. "I giggle when I am excited," you also blush, and at the moment you are probably pink all over. He studies your face, and then the finger pushes deeper.
You moan and try to hide your face behind your hands. He nuzzles your knuckles, and you lower your hands. "Don't hide from me, kurdu." Your heart clenches as it does every time he speaks Khuzdul to you. My heart…
You smile to him and press your hips into his hand. The intrusion is very tangible, and you bite into your lip. He starts moving his thick finger in and out of you, and your head swims. "You need to be ready," his lips are caressing your neck. He is very gentle.
"Perhaps, for the sake of preparation..." You choke on your words when he reaches especially deep, "you should add another..." You whimper when he slips another digit in. He also adds a twirl into his movements, sometimes spreading the fingers a little, stretching you, all of it in a hypnotizing, almost musical rhythm, and you suddenly climax, your whole body convulsing, hands grabbing his hair, teeth sinking in his ear that your were kissing just a moment ago.
You are shaking, riding the waves, and he is chuckling, kissing your collar bones. You are whining, nuzzling behind his ear, but the tremours in your lower body linger. Finally you take a deep breath and feel your body slumbering. He is smiling into your skin, his fingers still buried deeply in you. "That was unexpected..." Your voice is raspy.
"Indeed," he starts removing his hand, but you clench your walls and your thighs.
"Oh, wait..." You grab his wrist and halt his hand. Then you shift your hips and slide off his fingers. "Oomph, that was too much..."
He pulls his hand from under the covers and inspects it. You wrinkle your nose. He chuckles again. Then you leap ahead and press your lips to his. "I think I am ready, my lord. We should proceed before my body forgot what the whole preparation was about."
He rolls on his back and picking you up like a pup he places you on top of him. His member is pressed under your hips, and you feel hot all over. You rub your folds to it, carnal hunger rising in you. "This might be easier, my heart." You ponder but then shake your head.
"No, that will have to wait." You slide off him, lie on your back and stretch your arms to him.
He covers you with his body but you can see doubt on his face. "On top you can see to the depth..."
"I trust you," his eyes peer into yours intensely, and you smile, "I trust you, Thorin."
"I could hurt you."
"You won't. You will be gentle. You will make me your wife, and I will enjoy it." You are smiling and stroke his face. You fingers run through the thick beard, and he closes his eyes.
Then he positions himself at your entrance and presses his tip into you. You are still smiling and kissing his face. He pushes, and you gasp. He stops but you push your hips towards him, taking him in deeper. "Thorin..." He is kissing your neck and slowly pushes in. The pain slashes across your abdomen, and you clench your walls. He is not moving, slowly kissing your face, and you feel tears on your cheeks.
"Are you hurting, kurdu?" You shake your head. "Don't lie to me about such things," his voice is grave but he is trying to sound tender.
"I am not. It is gone already."
He is looking in your eyes. "We should not have…" You carefully wrap your legs around his waist. The movement of your hips causes discomfort inside, and you wince. Then you press him down with your calves.
"I think you should start moving..." He is hesitant. "Thorin, please?"
He is rocking his hips, gently and slowly, each push a bit deeper than the previous one, the movement cautious and fluid, and the pain returns momentarily. It is quickly forgotten, the sliding of his member in and out of you smooth, sleek, your wetness abundant. His eyes are closed, and he never looked more beautiful. He is murmuring feverishly, "Kurdu… Haban… Azyungel… Yasith..." My heart, my gem, my love, my wife...
You start moving too, pushing into him, arching your back, accepting him and welcoming him. He straightens one arm, lifting his upper body, bends his leg and his thrusts become deeper. You move your knees higher on his torso, and your nails sink into his back. He is moving faster, and you realize he is losing control. Your moans turn into screams of pleasure. You are stretched to the limit, already sore, and the pain mixes with pleasure. "More..." You breathe out, and he growls. "More, my King, more..." His hips stutter in their rhythm, and he is staring into your face. You grabs handfuls of his hair and pulls him to your lips. And then you bite into his bottom lip. "More..."
He hooks his arm under one of your legs and hikes it up. He rolls his hips into you, and your pelvis rises at a new angle. You cry out and rake his back with your nails. He starts thrusting, he is crushing you, your body shattering under him, enveloped in his heat and strength, and you climax again. You are thrashing under him, but he does not slow down, his pounding merciless, and then his hips jerk, and he releases into you. You are mewling from the hot surge of his seed into your oversensitive walls. You can feel the spurts of it, again and again, and you grind your hips into him, trying to prolong the sensation. Your walls clench around him time after time, and he is moaning.
He falls on you, and you whimper. He is breathing heavily, and his each inhale crushes your ribs. You squirm, trying to push him off. And then you start giggling. "You are crushing me, you brute..." He chuckles too but does not move. You press your palms into his shoulders and theatrically give him a shove.
"I cannot, my Queen. I will never move again. I will be a bedridden King..." His low throaty chuckles reverberate through your body. Then he rolls off you and pulls you into him.
You curl into his side and sigh. Your breath hits his ribs, and he jerks. "Have mercy..." You are chuckling now, and then you settle your head under his collar bone and tread your fingers into the chest hair. You run them through for a while, and he looks at you askew.
"Do you ache, my heart?" You try to shift your hips. The soreness is definitely there.
"In the most delicious way, my lord, but yes." He pulls you up and aligns your gaze. You smile, and you two are kissing for a while. You push your hands into his glorious mane. You are thoroughly enjoying post-coital bliss with the King Under the Mountain.
"We should probably limit ourselves to one time tonight, my heart," he is murmuring, his hands studying your body. He seems to be especially fascinated by the shoulder blades.
"How soon would you be able to repeat it if we decided to, my lord?" You are feeling frisky. He presses his pelvis into you. That is your answer. Maiar help you, it feels bigger this time. "Oh," you lift your brows, "And how many of these should I expect in a night?"
He smirks, "I have to say it seems to be unusually eager with you, my Queen. But about five." You gasp in a feigned terror and press a palm to your chest. He guffaws. "But not tonight," he kisses the tip of your nose. "You need rest, my heart."
You smile. "You are right, my Lord. I think it is time for education now." He recoils.
"What?" You giggle.
"You promised to mentor me, my Lord." You slide your hand under the covers and wrap it around his member. He gives you a lopsided grin. You throw the blankets off you two and slide down his body. And then you notice blood. There is not too much, but streaks cover his thighs and member, as well as the sheets. You look down your body. It is definitely spread between your thighs. You count quickly in your head. Not another two weeks till your monthly pains.
He notices it too and sits up. "You said you were not a maiden!"
"I was not. It happens, it just has been too long." You look at him and see he is blanched.
"You also said it did not hurt that much!" You are surprised to notice he is angry. "You cannot lie to me like that!"
"I did not. There was pain but it subsided quickly." You look at the stains disdainfully. "Well, that certainly killed the mood." He is still looking at you suspiciously, as if trying to determine how much ache you are hiding. "My lord, I am not suffering. Would I have reached release if I were in unendurable pain?" He frowns.
"Probably not… Unless..."
"I do not receive pleasure from being tortured, my lord!" Perhaps slightly on the lewd side in some of your fantasies, you are definitely not for physically injuring your body for pleasure. Or inflicting pain on others.
He sighs, "Perhaps we should request a bath. And to have the sheets changed." You nod, and then your mind starts calculating. That hindrance might be an unexpected gain. Servants will talk, and a virgin Queen of no Dwarven descent is at least better that a lecherous woman of Men on the throne of Durin.
The wooden bath is large but it takes a few minutes of shuffling and arranging your extremities to fit in it together with comfort. You are leaning your back on his chest, his arms on the edges of the tub, your hand sliding up and down his thigh. "We need a bigger tub, my lord," his head is dropped back and eyes are closed. He hums in agreement. "And a hot water chute."
He chuckles. "A what?"
"A hot water chute. On the upper floor you have a stove that heats up water in a cauldron, you pull a string and a chute opens up in the ceiling. The cauldron topples. The water falls into a tub." He opens one eye.
"Have you thought of it yourself or have seen it somewhere?"
"Have thought of it myself. But I am sure such ingenuine craftsmen as Dwarves can conjure such a simple construction. I love taking baths. And I am hoping you will join me, my lord. Every day."
You slide your palm higher up his thigh, and the member twitches. He exhales. "Whatever you wish for, my lady." You scrape your nails in the rough hair there, and he groans. "The bath will conclude very fast if you continue such ministrations, my Queen."
"Well, we have taken baths in the morning, so we just need to wash off the stains and we can return to bed."
"To do what exactly?" The blue eyes are full of mirth. You wiggle your backside a bit pointedly pressing your buttocks into his member.
"I think it is time for a lesson in verbal art." He guffaws.
"You are endlessly inappropriate, my lady."
"You know nothing of my inappropriateness yet, my Lord." Your voice is full of promise.
"Oh, I can't wait," he kisses behind your ear, and you tilt your head to give him more access. "Luckily I have my whole life to explore it, my Queen."