A/N: A friendly reminder that, even though it has been rather tame so far, this story is rated M for a reason. #wtfdidIjustwrite? #blameitonthequarantine
Day 106
On the one hundred sixth day, Fíli has a very peculiar dream, or nightmare, rather, that follows him from sleep into wakefulness. In his dream, he is his brother and finds himself in grave danger. How he knows that he is Kíli instead of himself, he cannot say; it's just one of those things that makes perfect sense in a dream even though it's utterly implausible.
His nightmare is filled with horrid creatures – giant spiders, bloodthirsty wolves and Mahal knows what other abominations – and they all appear intent on killing him. He – or Kíli, rather – throws himself into battle with all that he has left in terms of strength, but as so often in his dreams, Fíli finds his limbs weighed down by invisible forces until they feel like lead, his movements slow and sluggish. He falls and struggles to his feet, over and over again, the last thing he sees before finally waking up being a pair of yellow eyes and a terrifying set of bared, bloodstained fangs.
The vision of an overly large wolf's head hovering just inches away from his own face stays with Fíli even after he opens his eyes. It's all a little too real, to the extent even that Fíli thinks he can feel the animal's breath brush in hot puffs over his skin and he flattens himself against his mattress, his chest rising and falling rapidly from his own quickened breathing.
Eventually the terrifying image fades, but Fíli's unease remains. It was just a dream, he knows that, but still he cannot keep it from messing with his mind. He has never overcome his anxiety over Kíli's fate, obviously, but lately he has had it under control, the instances where every nerve in his body is on fire with his desperate need to simply rush out into the world and begin a pointless search for his lost brother becoming less and less frequent. Today, however, it feels a little as if an old wound has been torn open and even after rising from his bed and starting on his usual morning routines, he finds himself restless and unfocused, his mind still with his dream version if his brother.
This will not do, he thinks and puts down the washcloth he has just begun to scrub at his face with. Staring at his reflection in the small mirror on his dresser, he realizes that he is in dire need of a bath, his hair matted to his head in several places and his skin covered by a general layer of grime from assisting with the construction work below the mountain.
Gathering up his things, he sets out for the fresh water springs located deep inside the mountain, grateful for something to do. He could of course have someone bring up the necessary things to his rooms, but he does not much care for the idea of having others carry bucket after bucket of water for him when he is perfectly fine with using the public baths.
It's still rather early in the morning and Fíli is not surprised to find the winding underground hallways and staircases mostly deserted. The caves which house the lakes that the Erebor population use for sanitary purposes are empty as well, the water's surface completely still and smooth, like a mysterious black mirror.
Some might find the picture of a dark lake inside a low-ceilinged cavern that is only sparsely lit by a handful of torches unnerving, but Fíli, being used by now to spending the majority of his time underground, feels an odd sense of peace wash over him as he takes in the scene before him.
He strips out of his clothing quickly and steps into the water, sighing as he gradually submerges his body. The water is quite cold, as might be expected of an underground lake such as this, but Fíli doesn't mind. It just feels so good to wash away the sweat and grime of the past couple of days that the water might as well have been icy for all that he cares.
He swims out into the middle of the lake with a couple of brisk strokes, warmth returning to his limbs as he does so. After drifting around in the deeper water for a little while, enjoying the illusion of weightlessness, he swims back to the shore and picks up a bar of soap which he left with his things, proceeding to scrub at himself while he sits in the more shallow water.
With his hands focused on the practiced routine of cleansing his skin, his beard, his hair, Fíli's mind begins to drift and for some reason he recalls another bath in what now feels like another life. The corners of his mouth twitch as he remembers how Thorin's entire company of Dwarves went for a swim in a truly impressive fountain right in the middle of Rivendell, all of them making a whole lot of noise as they did so.
It is not as if they weren't aware of how utterly horrified the Elven inhabitants of Elrond's home would be at their choice for a pastime – if anything, the knowledge how downright shocking and appaling their behavior would be to those aloof, rather arrogant beings made the whole business even more fun. They splashed, they jumped, they dived with childlike glee, acting as if the most challenging part of their journey was already behind them when they should have suspected that the worst was still to come.
After getting the a good portion of their excessive energy from having been cooped up in those unfamiliar, not overly welcoming surroundings for too long out of their systems, Fíli and Kíli drifted towards the edge of the fountain, lazing about in the shallow water while they watched their brethren engage in a few more rounds of laughter-fuelled fighting. In his mind's eye, Fíli can see Kíli stretch himself out beside him as if it were only yesterday, the golden light of the setting sun playfully dancing across his younger brother's features, making him look even younger than he actually was.
"Do you think we'll ever go back?" Kíli asked, gazing up at the colorful sky while he leaned his head back to rest against the fountain's smooth rim.
"Go back where?" Fíli returned, distracted for a moment by a loud whooping and a massive splash as Bombur threw himself into the water from one of the fountain's upper basins.
"Home," Kíli said, and something in his voice made Fíli wrench his gaze away from the spectacle their brethren were causing. His younger brother's eyes remained fixed on the sky above, a picture of perfect ease to anyone who might bother to look. To Fíli, however, Kíli looked vulnerable then and... lost, somehow.
"To the Blue Mountains, you mean?" Fíli asked, adopting the gentle voice that he only ever used with Kíli.
Kíli nodded once, his throat constricting visibly as he swallowed. "I was just thinking," he said after a prolonged silence, "that if the whole point of this quest is to reclaim our homeland, then there would be no reason for us to go back at all. We'd have a new home, wouldn't we? At Erebor."
Fíli toyed with a leaf that had floated towards him on the water's surface for a moment, twirling it around with the tip of his forefinger for a couple of times before giving it a gentle push. It drifted away from them again and was submerged by one of the little waves caused by their frolicking companions.
"Does that thought trouble you?" he finally asked Kíli, keeping his voice carefully neutral. With his brother it was sometimes best to test the waters before jumping to quick conclusions, for the young Dwarf had a tendency to bring up a matter before he had formed his own opinion on it and then got defensive when others interpreted too much into it.
As appeared to be the case now, for Kíli frowned and took a while before answering. "I'm not sure how to feel about it, to be honest. But I did promise Mum that I would return to her, didn't I?"
"I'm certain she did not take that promise quite so literally," Fíli remembers himself saying, a teasing smile curving the corners of his mouth. "She just wants to be with you – with us – again. Whether that is at Erebor or back in Ered Luin won't matter to her."
"Aye. Aye, it won't, you're right of course," Kíli said. But still that frown did not leave his face and Fíli recognized this as one of the instances where his brother felt a bit helpless in the face of his own feelings. This would happen, sometimes, and was the cause for many of the foolish things Kíli felt compelled to do.
Realizing that right then his brother was torn between his thirst for adventure and his fears of what might await them yet on their path, Fíli did the only thing he could think of and placed a reassuring hand on Kíli's bare shoulder. "Home isn't just a place," he said. "Home is where your family is. Where I am. And we are in this together, right? No matter what happens."
Kíli nodded earnestly and covered Fíli's hand with his own. "No matter what happens. Aye."
He still had an air of unusual seriousness about him as he said those words, but Fíli was relieved to see that he no longer appeared as desolate as he had moments ago. And it felt good to know that he had been the one to console his brother, to know that Kíli took comfort both in his words and his actions. They were in this together and back then, at Rivendell, Fíli could not imagine for that to ever change.
Only now it has and in the most disastrous manner imaginable.
Fíli scrubs furiously at his arms, at his neck, as if he were able to wash away the sharp pain which his recollections of that tender moment between Kíli and himself bring. He can't, of course, and sinks back into the cold, shallow water with a sigh of frustration, angry with himself for letting his memories ruin his peace from a few moments ago. It's just one of those days, it appears, where things don't go the way he would like them to.
He wishes desperately for a distraction from his poisonous thoughts, but what is there for him to do? If he could see Sigrid, if only he could see her, then both his mind and his heart would be more at ease. But that, too, is not nearly as easy as he wishes it could be.
In the course of the past week he has seen her, yes, but the odds have been set against them in the sense that a meeting such as the one in his quarters or even the one in the library has been made impossible by circumstances beyond their control. Always there was somebody else demanding their attention, someone else's watchful eyes stopping them from acting around one another as they would have liked to do.
Once, only once, Fíli surprised them both by pulling Sigrid into a little alcove, hidden behind a large marble statue, on their way down to the entrance hall after one of Sigrid's visits with Óin. There had been no one in sight and before Fíli could change his mind, he grabbed Sigrid's hand firmly in his and gave a sharp tug, prompting her to follow him into that little hiding place.
Time had not been wasted with unnecessary words then, for words they had exchanged plenty over the past few days. It was each other's touch that they craved, and so it was without hesitation that Fíli brought his lips to Sigrid's, pulling her flush against him in the cramped space. He sighed with satisfaction when she raised her arms to wrap around his neck, deepening their kiss with as much confidence as if they had been doing this their whole lives and not just a bare handful of times.
"I've missed this," Sigrid whispered between kisses, "I've missed you."
Fíli, in too much of a hurry to feel her lips against his once more, merely grunted his assent to her words. He took a small step forward and pushed Sigrid against the wall at her back, pulling back almost immediately to apologize for acting so very boldly.
Sigrid, however, would have none of that and crushed her mouth to his again immediately, trapping him against her body by raising one leg to wrap it around his hip.
A gasp rushed from Fíli's lips at that and he felt heat rise in his cheeks, knowing that in this position Sigrid would be more than aware of his by now very prominent arousal. She did not recoil, by far not, and his grasp onto his self-control wavered rather fiercely when she urged him to press himself against her more firmly by flexing her leg a little.
They broke apart both breathing heavily and as Fíli gazed up into Sigrid's face, he found her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and her eyes wide with insecurity. At the same time, however, she had a look of resolution about her that made his heart beat even faster in his chest. She wanted him. He could not exactly fathom why, nor was it, in all likelihood, a very wise thing for her to do, but she did want him and would not let anything hold her back. And by Durin's beard, he wanted her at least as much.
Despite the thrill that this realization sent through his veins, he managed to pull away from her then. Whatever their little tryst might lead to – this was not the time and, more importantly, not the place for it. Sigrid sighed in displeasure when he released his rather firm grip onto her, but let him go nevertheless, her own arms loosening their embrace. Her hands slid down his arms until they rested in his, her slim fingers curling into his larger palm. It felt nice to hold onto her like this, to feel her place her trust that he would never do anything to harm her in him.
He wanted to tell her that he wished it did not have to be like this, that she deserved more. That someone like her ought to be wooed and cherished for the whole world to see instead of being hidden away and all but ravished in dark corners. Before he found the words to do so, however, she silenced him with a finger against his lips.
"I've told you, it is enough for me. For now, it is enough."
He stared at her, stunned into a baffled silence by her apparent ability to read him like an open book. He searched her eyes for any indication that she might be putting on a brave face just for his sake but found nothing except honesty and determination there. He nodded, pressing a soft kiss against her fingertip.
"For now," he promised, vowing to himself that he would find a way to make her his.
They left their hiding place soon after that, seeing that one thing could only ever read to another if they lingered any longer. That was three days ago. He has seen her since then, yes, but he has not touched her, has not been able to reassure himself that all of this is not some cruel delusion of his aside from the twinkle in her eyes and the rosy blush of her cheeks whenever they meet. And that tortures him more than he ever would have expected it to do, longing for someone else's company aside from that of his brother having been a foreign concept to him for the majority of his life.
He sinks back even further into the waters of the lakes below Erebor. Fantastic. In addition to his anxiety over Kíli, he has now managed to work himself into quite the state over his most recent encounter with Sigrid, his body thrumming with excitement at the mere thought of her touch, begging for some semblance of release.
He feels ashamed of himself as he reaches below the water's surface, his right hand closing around his hardened lenght. Utterly unable to stop himself, he imagines Sigrid's hands in place of his own and his head falls back, a shaky groan issuing forth from his lips as he jerks his hand down, once, twice, three times, his hips bucking up against his closed fist.
His soft cry echoes through the empty caverns when the tension in his abdomen finally uncoils, his limbs trembling from the force of his release.
You pathetic excuse for a Dwarf, he scolds himself, lusting after a lass like a pubescent lad barely in control of his body.
And yet he cannot stop a small grin from tugging at the corners of his mouth as he allows himself a few blissful moments where he imagines how it would actually feel to cross this boundary with Sigrid, for them both to give into what their bodies so obviously crave. There are a great many things wrong with fantasizing about that, he's well aware, but that does not change the feelings of warmth and, yes, rightness that course through him. He'll just have to be patient, he tells himself.
But alas, if only he were better at that.
xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
Fíli gets a reprieve from that hated necessity of patience much sooner than he would have expected. That same evening, about half an hour after he has returned from dinner, there is a knock on his door that catches him by surprise. Business for that day has been dealt with (or so he thought) and he was just about to settle down in his favorite chair with a glass of brandy and the book of children's tales Sigrid gave to him all those months ago.
He shoves the book under a cushion when three sharp raps on his door sound through his rooms, not wanting any surprise visitors to think him a fool that sits around reading bedtime stories when he has a kingdom to reign. Since he knows both Balin and Dwalin to be engaged otherwise, he does not call out to his visitor to enter as he usually does, but heads to the door instead, reluctantly wrenching it open.
The hallway outside lies mostly in shadow and the small rectangle of light streaming from his open door reveals Thad, wearing a grin on his lips that is so gleeful it almost makes him look a little mad.
"Yes?" Fíli asks cautiously, trying to remember if he has maybe agreed to meet the brothers after dinner and forgotten about it.
"A special delivery for Your Majesty," Thad says as he sweeps into an exaggerated, deep bow.
The confused frown on Fíli's forehead deepens as Thad steps aside, looking over his shoulder into the shadows. Confusion quickly gives way to disbelief when a cloaked figure steps into the light, pulling back the large hood covering her head and a good portion of her face. The curls tumbling forward at the action gleam golden in the firelight and as he catches sight of the rather self-conscious smile that tilts her lips, Fíli feels his heart speed up.
"Sigrid? What are you—"
"Let's not waste time on long explanations, shall we?" Thad interjects and gives Sigrid a gentle push. "Go on then, lassie. And remember – just after dawn, down by the stables."
Sigrid nods solemnly, her cheeks pink even in the dim light. Fíli looks from her to Thad and back again in alarm. "He knows?"
Before Sigrid can open her mouth to reply, Thad huffs. "Of course I know. Didn't take a genius to figure it out with you walking the halls with that sappy smile on your face and her being all flustered and blushing constantly for no apparent reason when Flad and I took her back to Dale the other day. But don't worry—" he winks at Fíli who can only stare at him in astonishment "—neither Flad nor I shall breathe a word of this to anyone. I fact, we thought our assistance might prove to be rather... useful."
Fíli continues to stare mutely at his kinsman, then shifts his gaze to Sigrid who squirms a little on her spot under his scrutiny. "We— I mean, I— or should I say—" She gives up then, her cheeks coloring while she gives a small shrug. "It has been so difficult for us to meet that the brothers' plan to smuggle me up here seemed like the only way you and I could see each other without... being seen. I—I'm sorry if the surprise is unwelcome."
Practically scrambling to take her hand in his, Fíli tugs her a little closer to the threshold of his room. "It's not. Of course it's not." He turns to Thad, his gaze cunning even as his heart beats more quickly than usual in his chest. "I assume this plan of yours takes certain contingencies into account?"
Thad's answering grin lights up his whole face. "Aye, it does. Anyone who feels compelled to seek out the King in his quarters tonight shall find themselves confronted with a very powerful distraction."
"Let's hope it does not come to that," Fíli returns, his eyebrows raised as he wills his mind not to imagine what sort of madness the brothers might have come up with.
Thad shrugs rather cheerfully. "I heartily disagree, but that is not for you to worry about." Two more exaggerated bows, one for Fíli and one for Sigrid. "Goodnight then, my lord, my lady."
And with that Thad's flaxen head disappears down the hallway, leaving its other two occupants to stare after him in a sort of horrified amusement. Once Thad has vanished from view, Fíli turns to Sigrid, gently squeezing her fingers.
"Won't you come inside then? Before this whole, elaborate scheme is ruined by us lingering out here for too long."
Sigrid nods, turning her hand in his so that their fingers are entwined, but says nothing, silently following him into his quarters. She's been there before, obviously, but still this feels like uncharted territory and so, when Fíli pulls the door shut behind him, there's a nervous flutter in his stomach.
Then the realization that they will be spending the entire night together sinks in and he almost yanks open that door once more to call back Thad. He doesn't, of course, because Sigrid is right. It's close to impossible for them to have some time together and if this – at night and in secret – is the only way he can see her, well... Then he'll simply have to behave himself. Even if breathing has suddenly become rather more difficult.
He releases his hold onto Sigrid's hand and instantly regrets it, for now he has nothing to do with his own hands, his fingers twitching nervously. With some relief he notices that the fire in his hearth is burning low and he heads over to take some logs from the basket placed beside it and adds them to the fire, watching as the flames devour the wood hungrily.
"Those brothers," he remarks in a pitiful attempt at light conversation while still keeping his back turned to her, "have their heads full of mischief. I hope they did not offend you with their meddling."
"Not at all," Sigrid says softly, her voice behind him much closer than he expected it to be. A not entirely unpleasant shiver runs up his spine. "I find myself growing rather fond of them. Also, if I'm not mistaken, they very much resemble another pair of brothers."
Fíli barely suppresses a flinch at her words, waiting for the familiar twinge in his gut that is usually provoked by any mention of Kíli. It doesn't come and he realizes with no small amount of surprise that he does not mind for Sigrid to speak of his brother, knowing that with her he does not have to pretend that the wound Kíli's absence from his life has torn into his very soul is not still raw and open.
He turns, a weak, wistful smile on his lips. "You are right about that, of course." He looks up at her, not bothering to hide his grief. "I forget sometimes that you knew Kíli as well. Everything before the battle seems... seems so terribly long ago. Like another life, almost."
"I did not know him nearly as well as I now wish I had and those days were marked by chaos and tragedy," Sigrid returns, her eyes and her voice earnest. Then she gives a small smile. "But I did see a little of what it must have been like between you two. Enough to venture a guess that Thad and Flad's little schemes pale in comparison to what you and Kíli would come up with."
Genuine laughter bubbles up in his chest at that and he takes her hands in his to press a kiss to her knuckles. "You might have a point there," he says. He barely lifts his lips from her skin as he utters those words and when he feels her shudder as his breath rushes across the back of her hands the air between them becomes charged with a sudden tension.
His memories of bygone times fade into the background as he turns one of her hands over in his, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist. Keeping his eyes on her face, he watches her eyelids flutter and her lips part slightly as a silent gasp escapes them. A small grin tugs at his lips and he repeats his actions, reveling in the silky softness and the sweet scent of her skin.
He releases her hand eventually and steps a little closer still, reaching up to cup her lovely face between his palms. Yes, he has made a silent promise that he will behave himself, but he has to make some use of the fact that he has her all to himself in his room, doesn't he? And so he hesitates only briefly before leaning up to press his mouth to hers, exhaling with relief when finally – finally! – the taste of her floods him, fills him, completes him.
Sigrid's hands come up to rest against his shoulders, sliding around to clutch at his back as their kiss deepens. The fire burning in the hearth at his back is beginning to feel dangerously hot and he stirs them both away from it. His refusal to break their kiss results in both of them stumbling a bit, their noses bumping against each other as they struggle to maintain both their balance and the contact between their bodies.
A giggle escapes Sigrid's lips and then a small yelp as the backs of her knees hit his bed and they both end up tumbling onto it, him on top of her. Fíli pulls away to apologize for crushing her beneath him, but then the impact of their change in positions fully registers with him and his words fail him. Lying on top of her, the whole weight of his body pinning hers against the mattress, turns out to be a wholly different sensation from merely pressing himself against her. He can feel every curve of her body, every soft rounding, every tense muscle, and as she arches her back ever so slightly, molding herself to him, a considerable portion of his self-control waves him a cheery goodbye.
Pushing himself up on his elbows, Fíli crushes his mouth to Sigrid's once more and she welcomes him by reaching up to run her fingers through his already rather mussed hair, tugging him impossibly closer. Things become a little hazy after that and Fíli has no way of knowing if minutes pass in this manner or hours. When next he succeeds at forming a coherent thought, several items of his clothing have mysteriously disappeared, as has Sigrid's vest. Also, her blouse is unbottoned halfway and Fíli's fingers are stroking her collarbone, his thumb just barely brushing the gentle swell of her breast.
He pulls back his hand like he has been burned and struggles to sit up, finally managing to perch himself above Sigrid in an awkward, kneeling pose. She stares up at him with wide eyes that are darkened by the same kind of need he feels pulsing through him, her lips red and swollen from his kisses. He almost throws himself onto her again right that second.
"We have to stop," he pants instead, his lungs curiously devoid of air. "We have to stop – before we do something that you might come to regret."
"I won't," Sigrid says immediately, reaching up to pull him back down to her.
Fíli is tempted, so very tempted, to follow her invitation, but forces himself to further disentangle his limbs from hers, sitting down on the mattress beside her. Sigrid pushes up onto her elbows and looks at him with raised eyebrows. Fíli finds that he can barely meet her gaze, afraid that if he does, the untamed beast that has been woken inside his chest will take charge once more, the need to somehow claim her, make her his and his alone, shocking him with its intensity.
"I—" he begins, but words fail him once again and as he stares at his hands he notices that they are shaking, visibly. He clenches them into fists. "If we don't stop now, I won't be able to hold myself back much longer," he says, more than a little ashamed of himself to be forced to admit to those rather savage needs of his.
"Good," Sigrid says firmly and his eyes shift to her in surprise. She, too, is sitting up now, facing him. Her face is flushed and he can see her whole body tremble with— well, he's not sure of that exactly. Fear? Arousal? Or both, maybe? Still, her eyes are calm and determined. "Because I don't want you to hold back."
The realization what she is asking him to do hits him like a punch to his gut, making it almost impossible to breathe. At the same time, the throbbing in his loins becomes almost painful. Still, he shakes his head. "No. We—we can't. I won't do this to you. I won't—I won't spoil you."
Sigrid gives a strange little laugh at that. "Spoil me? For whom, exactly?" She shifts closer and her smile turns from sardonic to gentle as she lifts a hand to his burning cheek. "I have told you before. It's only ever been you. And that is not going to change."
He closes his eyes, the sincerity in her gaze combined with her words threatening to drive him to do something reckless. "Still... we cannot," he says, his voice sounding feeble to his own ears. "It's—it wouldn't be right."
There's as rustle of fabric and Fíli starts with surprise when one of Sigrid's legs slides across his thigh, her warmth enveloping him as she comes to sit astride him. He is suddenly very glad for his... activities from earlier that day, feeling rather confident that he would have fainted from the sheer force of his excitement had he not gotten rid of some of the tension beforehand.
Sigrid's hands cup his jaw and she tilts his face towards hers, her breath ghosting over his lips as she speaks, lowering her voice to a whisper. "How could this be wrong when it feels so very, very right?" A feather-light kiss brushed across his mouth and an infinitesimal roll of her hips that has him expel the air from his lungs in a shuddering gasp. "Do you not feel that?"
He finally opens his eyes again, his gaze locking onto hers. He can see in her own eyes that she is determined to be brave, to speak her mind, but the flicker of fear does not excape his notice as well. Fear of being rejected. Fear of getting hurt. He feels his resolve waver and when she leans down to kiss him, he does not hold back, opening himself to her when she begins to explore him with her tongue.
She takes both of his hands in hers and guides one back to her waist, silently asking him to hold her more firmly against him. The other hand she raises between their bodies, returning it to its former position on the expanse of bare skin revealed by her open blouse. His heart threatens to jump out of his chest as she steers his hand a little further down, releasing her hold onto him only for a split second to undo another button. And then her fingers are on top of his as he cups one perfect, firm breast in his palm, her back arching as she pushes up against him, daring him to touch her.
"Please," she breathes.
His breath hitches in his throat when he feels her hardened peak grace the pad of his thumb and her small cry when he gives it an experimental little flick nearly undoes him. Admitting to himself that he does not have the kind of strength it takes to step away from this, he forms a new resolution in his mind, a wicked grin tugging at his lips.
Holding her firmly in his lap, he turns them both around, pushing her back against the mattress once more. As he leans over her lets his lips trail the curve of her jaw while he continues teasing her nipple with his thumb.
"I won't give you what you are asking for," he says between kisses. Before Sigrid can protest, he adds, "but I will give you something else."
Before he can change his mind and lose his courage, he removes his hand from her breast to undo the remaining buttons of her blouse, pushing the garment off her shoulders once he has done so. His lips leave the side of her neck to kiss a trail down across her collarbone while he uses his other hand to hoist up her skirts, his breath growing more shallow as he allows his fingers to stroke the soft skin of her thighs.
Sigrid gives a startled gasp when he moves his hand further up her leg with a very clear destination and he raises his head to look at her, silently asking if this is going too far, if she has changed her mind after all. She looks at him with wide eyes, her teeth leaving marks in her bottom lip. She gives a small but steady nod, willing him to continue, a wish with which he eagerly obliges.
Commited to his task, he makes swift business of her underthings, tugging them down and off her legs in one, fluent motion. He trails his fingers back up her legs again immediately, his need to explore her nearly overwhelming. She flinches at the first contact of his fingers with her most sensitive flesh, but the iron grip of her hands onto his shoulders assures him that this is what she wants.
His first explorations are gentle, his fingertips tracing her folds, circling her entrance. He finds her flesh slick, swollen with need and he barely bites back a groan as he realizes that this need is for him alone. Sigrid arches into his touch, her hips jerking as he increases the pressure of his fingers, finding the small spot he knows will give her pleasure beyond anything else.
He rubs at her flesh, suppressing the instinct to slip a finger into her, afraid that doing so might hurt her. Instead, he focuses on finding a rhythm that will bring her closer and closer to the brink of that sweetest kind of oblivion. His efforts are rewarded with soft moans that quickly grow breathier, Sigrid's chest rising and falling rapidly against his own body. This gives him an idea and he scoots a little further down on his mattress, pulling one of her hardened, rosy peaks between his lips and sucking gently.
Sigrid's back arches off the bed as she cries out and one of her hands fists in his hair. Spurned on by her reaction, Fíli sucks again, harder this time, and feels her fall apart underneath his hands, her hips bucking violently against his fingers. She has tuned her face to one side, burying it in his blankets, but still her cry of pleasure is loud enough for Fíli to be glad of the fact that Thad promised to keep potential visitors far away from his quarters for the remainder of the night.
Her body now limp beneath his while her breaths still come in ragged gasps, Sigrid gives a feeble tug on his hair, urging him up until he comes to lie next to her on his side, his thumb still rubbing small circles on the soft skin of her lower belly while she gathers her composure.
"I didn't—I never—That was—" She heaves a small sigh and gives up on finding the right words entirely, pulling him down to her for a languid kiss instead.
When they break apart, Fíli cannot stop a smug grin from spreading across his lips. "I assume that was to your taste, then? Even if it was not what you asked for."
Her bright laughter rings through his otherwise silent room. "Oh, I'll take it and shan't complain about it, don't you worry."
She kisses him again and Fíli is surprised to find some heat return to the touch of her lips against his. He pulls away by a few inches, raising a quizzical eyebrow at her.
The flush in her cheeks returning with full force, Sigrid gives a small shrug and an abashed grin while her fingers fiddle with the gaping neckline of his shirt. "Won't you let me return the favor?" she asks, her words emphasized by her hand slowly trailing downward until her fingertips shyly brush against the very obvious bulge in his trousers.
He shudders as her touch sends a spark of desire through his veins. "You don't have to," he says, feeling that maybe they have gone far enough for tonight.
Sigrid kisses him again while her nimble fingers begin to work on the fastenings of his trousers. "I want to," she mumbles against his lips and then, after a pause, "Show me how?"
He wants to protest, wants to do at least one honorable thing on this very strange evening, but her hand is already pushing layers of fabric out of the way and then she's touching him with no barrier between them and it just feels exquisite. She's running her fingers along his length and if he thought that he could not get any harder, he has just been proven wrong.
"Show me," she whispers again and wraps her hand lightly around his manhood.
Fíli's head falls forward against her collarbone and he groans, once more overpowered by her. He wonders if he should be made uneasy by how quickly she has regained control of the situation after he reduced her to a gasping, trembling mess just moments ago. As things stand, it only serves to get him even more excited.
Following her plea, he reaches down between their bodies and covers her small hand with his larger one, slightly adjusting her hold onto him. He moves their joined hands, guiding her both in terms of speed and pressure. It's a oddly intimate experience to be doing this together with her and Fíli knows that even if this had not been going on for as long as it already has, he would not last very long.
Barely able to form a coherent thought, he watches in dumb fascination as Sigrid relinquishes her hold onto his biceps, trailing her unoccupied hand across her own stomach instead. She cups and kneads her still bared breast, rolling her nipple between her thumb and her forefinger, and a small moan escapes her lips. The realization that just the act of touching him makes her feel this way, makes her crave more, does it for him.
"I can't—I'm going to—," he pants, stars exploding behind his now closed eyelids. He furtively tries to jerk his hips away, but it's no use and he spills himself into both their hands with a groan that echoes through his chambers.
His head falls forward to rest against Sigrid's shoulder as he trembles with the aftershocks of his release. "Forgive me," he mutters, "I—I did not mean to—"
"There is nothing to forgive at all," Sigrid assures him and when he dares lift his head to look at her, her finds not the reproach or the disgust he feared he might, but only warmth and contentment.
He leans down to capture her lips with his, letting his mouth linger on hers for a moment before pushing himself off the mattress. "Wait here," he says and rises to move across the room, feeling her eyes on him all the while.
He returns to her side with a damp washcloth, running it first over her brow and then down her neck, ridding her skin of their combined sweat. Moving onto her hands, he wipes them clean, feeling less guilty once any trace of his seed has been removed from her. He quickly washes himself next, exchanging his soiled trousers for a clean pair.
Sigrid's gaze follows him during all of this, a small, relaxed smile playing around her lips. Neither of them speaks, but it's not a strained silence. There is much that could be said, obviously, but that can wait, Fíli figures. For now, he just wants to enjoy the time he has left with her.
Climbing back into his bed once he is finished, Fíli scoots back until his shoulders rest against the headboard, pulling Sigrid with him by her hand. She follows his invitation and sighs happily once she is nestled against his side, her head resting on his chest. He can feel her breath against the bare skin revealed by his open shirt collar and he wraps an arm around her shoulders, holding her more firmly to him.
Her breathing evens out as the fire in his hearth slowly burns down and Fíli presses a soft kiss to the top of her head, silently bidding her goodnight. He won't sleep, not if he can help it. Dawn is merely a few hours away and who can say when he will have another chance to have her all to himself for a whole night. No, he shall watch over her tonight, marveling at the fire she has lit in his heart when not so long ago he thought he was condemned to forever walk in darkness.