A/N: Thank you, UKReader! This one is so cute and flirty! The chapter hasn't turned out such, but it's not the prompt's fault :)
A/N#2: My lovelies, that's the LAST PROMPT I have! Time for you to join in and leave me more in the reviews!
That time when Thorin has daydreams about braiding Wren's curls, while the Ginger Ninja is checking out Thorin's bum.
He locked the door behind him, without breaking the locked gaze with her. She was taking sharp shallow breaths in, her chest rising under the tunic, feverish red spots on her cheeks, and then she sharply rushed to him and grabbed the wine jug from his hand.
"I'm not touching it now that it has been in your hands," he murmured and cocked a brow. She laughed loudly and then lifted it to her lips and took a few greedy gulps.
"Would you also like to remove all vases from the room, sweetpea?"
"I'm considering it," he made a step towards her, and she gave out another short throaty laugh and jumped away from him.
"I'm rather good with chair legs as well," she licked her lips, and some sort of flashfire exploded in the back of his head.
"No interruption today, little one, so furniture might have to go," he moved the chair she deftly placed between them from his way, "Except the bed." He gave it a thought, "And the table perhaps." She pressed her hand to her chest and batted her lashes in a pretense shock.
"Oh Maiar help me, sweetpea, someone is in the mood." She took another large sip of wine, and he nodded shortly. He was, and perhaps she did need a bit wine to relax. He was a lot to take.
He lunged ahead, she giggled and dashed away from him. His fingers missed the scarlet fabric by hardly an inch. She swirled, aptly wrapping one of the ribbons from her collar around his neck, and he grabbed the end of the silky scarf. He pulled, and she spun, fabric slithering off her skin. Apparently the tunic was just wrapped around her torso, the ends holding it in place being tied around her neck. He froze, he hadn't realised the attire would be so easy to take off, but here she was, in a gauzy undertunic that hid nothing, only adding to his hunger, the amber coloured lace making her skin even more enticing. She jumped on the bed and suddenly swayed. He stepped closer to support her, and she threw him the end of her belt.
"Care to find out whether you can manage the lower half just as well?" Her voice was throaty, and he pulled slowly, suddenly remembering to savour the moment. She spun on the spot, it took four turns to finally divest her of the sash, and he hung it around his neck. There was a row of little buttons on each of her hips, just like on her burglar trousers, and he couldn't wait to get his hands on them.
"Thea said you fought the temptation valiantly," her tone was mocking, and he lifted his face to meet her eyes. He was standing by the bed, her stomach in front of him, and he just couldn't decide where to start. Since he met her that first night, he had made so many plans, and embarrassingly enough had so many indecent dreams, that he felt almost dizzy from arousal and anticipation. She had escaped him again and again, but there she was, right in front of his face, and his eyes ran down her long elegant neck, to the collarbones, he did love them, and to her small perky peaks. The tips were bright red and puckered, and he made his choice.
He was no brute, he loved women and enjoyed them, it was never just about his pleasure, unless it was for a payment of course, but even then he was considerate. And again, making her enjoy it and crave it again and again afterwards would be the perfect revenge for all her previous transgressions. He would make her beg, first to go on and never stop, and then to take her again. He knew women, and he'd make sure she'd plea for the repetition of this night. A pleasant image of her offering her body and begging for his flashed through his mind.
He gently put his splayed palm on her back, and indeed there was a certain thrill in bedding a small woman. His hand covered her from her shoulder blades to her buttocks, he pulled her to his face and placed a slow kiss on her stomach. He caught the lilacs fragrance and the sweet smell of her skin, almost floral itself, or perhaps reminiscent of some pastry from his childhood, and she moaned. He felt her body jolt, and she murmured something, surprisingly in Khuzdul. He decided he wouldn't waste any time, she was where he wanted her, and he moved his mouth on her, caressing her through the gauze. She was breathing labouriously, and he noticed from the corner of his eye her small hands to fist and unfist frantically. He pulled her closer and gently nipped her skin, she gasped, and her knees gave in. Her hands fell onto his shoulders, she dropped her head, run away curls brushed his cheek, and his palms lay on her hips. He tenderly rubbed up and down and then shifted his hands in slow circular motions, grazing her round buttocks. They turned out so much better than he remembered from the short tumble in the cabin on the swamps.
"What... How are you doing it to me?" Her voice was coarse, and she started sagging. He caught her under her arms and gently put her on the bed. While he was lowering her body on the sheets, he caught her little burning ear between his lips, and she moaned loudly. He remembered Mirkwood and her saying she was a screamer. He had to let her go for a moment to adjust his cock in his trousers. To say his erection was painful would be a horrible understatement. For the first time in his adult life he felt a worry he might not last long.
He sat on the bed near her, she had one hand on her stomach, the other arm thrown over her forehead, half lidded eyes watching him, and he decided he'd pleasure her with his mouth first, then two more times, and only then he'd take her. He was still adamant regarding his plan to show her what she's been depriving herself of because of her foolish stubbornness.
He picked up her hand from her stomach and placed an open mouthed kiss in the centre of her palm. She giggled, and he tenderly bit the fleshy part at the base of her thumb. She giggled louder, and he froze.
That wasn't a reaction of arousal, not a giggle of a lustful woman tickled by a beard, that was mocking sniggering. He lifted his eyes, and surely enough he saw her biting her bottom lip to suppress laughter. He lifted one brow flirtily, continuing to caress her palm with his thumb, but he had a very nasty feeling in his stomach.
"You have such a ridiculous face..." She choked out, and he understood what felt wrong. She was drunk. Completely, indubitably, irrevocably bladdered. She suddenly took away her hand and flicked his nose. "So full of yourself, so puffed up..." She mimicked a frowny expression, and he noticed she was pretty much cross-eyed, "And you have this face!' She giggled again and spoke in a mock low voice, "I am the King Under the Mountain, and I'm going to bed you majestically!" She burst into drunk laughter at her own joke.
He picked up her chin and looked her in the eyes. She hadn't drunk that much, just a few sips, surely she couldn't have been so muddled from a bit of wine. Unless…
"Have you been drinking before coming here?" She snorted and clumsily waved her hand before his face. He assumed she was trying to touch him.
"Why would I? I can't drink. Even a few sips of wine, and I'm pretty much done with..." She finally managed to connect her hand and his face and curled her fingers into his beard, "Oooh, fluffy..."
"Why did you drink then?" He felt his temper rising, he was starting to understand she played him again.
"Will you believe me if I said I was nervous?" He opened his mouth, but she interrupted him with a very happy squeal, "And you'd be wrong. I just knew you'd not be interested in me like that," she emitted another evil snigger, "You want hunt, and chase, and finally submit me to your will, and not a..." She frowned and blinked several times, "What was I saying?"
"You were saying you got drunk to avoid sleeping with me," he snarled through his teeth.
"Dead fish!" She yelled triumphantly, and he winced away from the volume, "Dead fish is what I am when I'm… drunking." She twitched her nose and shook her head. He could see she was getting more and more muddled with each passing second, and he saw red. He grabbed her shoulders by both hands and shook her. She whined, he was hurting her.
"Why?! Why would you do this? Just say no, why offer yourself to me and then back away?" She tried to get out of his painful grip, but she was so wobbly and uncoordinated that she couldn't even push him away with one hand. The small fingers weakly brushed his chest, and he shook her again.
"It hurts..." Her eyes filled with tears, and he remembered all those times she pretended to cry in front of him. He gritted his teeth. "Pain..."
"I'm in pain too! You cursed wench, driving me up the wall, and dangling it in front of me like a carrot!"
"I didn't..." She sobbed, and her hands limply brushed his neck, "Please..." He pushed her away in disgust. She fell on the bed, curls scattered, and she whimpered, "I got scared… I was going to come, through the window, but I got scared…"
He jumped on his feet and strode to the door. He should have left, he opened the door, he wouldn't allow a strumpet to stomp his dignity into dirt, damn her saving his life, damn his plans, damn whatever it was he felt sometimes and was hiding even from himself, but she was crying on the bed, so desperately, so sincerely, and he already had one foot out the door, and she wasn't trying to talk to him, and for the first time in his life he faltered.
He stood in the door, white rage still coursing his veins, but he wasn't leaving. She sobbed, and he heard her small voice, "You will hurt me… You will hurt me… You will..." She was mumbling, and he turned around. She was crying into her folded arm on the bed, and something broke in him when he saw her other hand curled in a small fist in a vulnerable gesture. He stepped back and closed the door.
"I am sorry for grabbing you..." His voice was raspy, and she shook her head, orange curls swishing in the air.
"It's nothing… Nothing compared to seeing it... to the feast..." She sobbed louder, and suddenly she lifted her face. Her eyes were red and puffed, pupils dilated, irises suddenly green like grass, burning, and she cried out into his face, "You were kissing them! You will hurt me… There will be always this..." She vaguely gestured all over him, "The Dwarf thing… The King, 'I'm entitled to it' poppycock..." She spat the words out, and he halted. She was jealous! She wiped her nose with her sleeve, and he stared at her astounded. She certainly was too decorous for such gestures, always so elegant and collected, but there she was, sniffling and hiccuping like a child. She sat up and wiped her eyes with the inside of her sleeve this time. She was swaying from side to side, clearly half-conscious, and then guilt and shame spilled like poison on his insides. Angry red bruises from his hands were clearly visible on her pale slender shoulders, and she sniffed. "I'll lie with you and will catch this… pestilence..."
"I do not bear lovers' diseases," he grumbled, his eyes still on the bruises, and she waved her hand at him scoffing derisively.
"There are herbs for those..." She cringed in disgust, inhaled and spat out, "Feelings!.. That's the disease... The plague of the weak… And you will hurt me… I'll care, and you will abandon me..." She lifted her index finger and wiggled it in the air. Whether she was shaking it or trying to make some other gesture was unclear, and he stepped closer to her. Suddenly she bellowed, and large tears started running down her face again. "Why did you have to come back? My life was so nice, dresses, and robberies, and I just got the new boots, a bit of gold here, nice gems there, there was this fabrics shop in Bree, such lovely rolls..." She smiled blissfully, lost in her pleasant memories, and then her eyes momentarily focused on him. "And you just had to pop up in my life again..." She hiccuped loudly, "With your eyes, and pride, and the lips, and this backside… Maiar, the backside… So glorious... " She pointed at his hips with a wide gesture of her hand, but she miscalculated the angle, her body started slumping off the bed, and he quickly stepped closer and caught her. "Maiar help me, you smell nice..." She mumbled and nuzzled him. "So warm, so so delicious… I dream of it so often..." He put her back on the bed, and she suddenly wrapped her arms around his middle. "I want to kiss you all… every inch..." Her eyes were closing, and she whined weakly, "Maigrid, Thorin lansur, tatharrabi kurdu..." Feared be Thorin who evokes love and passion, as he is to steal a heart. She had mixed up several grammatical forms and her pronunciation was sloppy, but he held her in his arms, her breathing slowing down, small fists clasped around handfuls of his tunic, and he gently stroked her hair.
He was lying on his inn bed, the small red haired thief curled into his side, his fingers running through her hair. The excitement of the evening was ebbing, the ale in his veins thinning out, and he closed his eyes. Sleep didn't come, but dreams did. He saw his life in which the key had never come to him, where there was no quest, his small house in Blue Mountains, and suddenly he clearly saw her stretched on his bed, nothing but her habitual jewellery on her slender body. He imagined picking up strands of her mad orange hair, braiding them and tenderly adding them to the mane scattered on her silky bare back. He saw kisses between touches and heard her soft laughter, simple life, simple choices, to stay for another week or travel further, to stay in the inn or spend a night under the stars, to steal or to pay, to kill or to spare, and he clenched his jaw. Feared be Wren of Enedwaith who evoked doubt in the heart of the strongest warrior, as she was capable of making him forget his quest.
He opened his eyes and let himself look at her attentively for the last time. Her delicate nose, freckles peppering its bridge and her cheekbones, long lashes lying under her eyes, and of course the red lips, the bottom one wide and plump, the upper one curved. He gently brushes the tips of his fingers at her cheekbone and smiled, allowing himself to just watch for a few minutes. Her breathing was even, and he marvelled at how a simple girl could instill so much in the heart that he had thought could only care about his throne and his people.
Even without having the name for what she was to him, he knew it was the end for them. He'd either become the king his people deserved and take the throne of Erebor, or he would fail his quest and perish in the mountain. Either way, there was no room for her in his life. And for the first time in his life he was willing to admit that there could have been a person who could take up a half of it. From now on there would be no other, though she could never be the one.
And then the moment of weakness was over, and he rose from the bed careful not to waken her. He threw a quilt over her slumbering form and left the room. The dawn was rising, and the last day of Autumn began.