A/N: Well, I guess there is no way out of it now. Well done with the prompt, Wynni! I'm cornered and give in :P

(It is all part of my evil plan, by the way, muwahahahaha :D)

A/N#2: My darling dearreader, unfortunately your idea won't fit but it's brill! I'll keep it safely tucked in drafts folder, and will use it for another chapter. Or perhaps as another "first time" prompt! That would make an awesome way for them to meet :P

That time Thorin made Wren climax six times, while she was heard caterwauling clear to Laketown.

She pulled her arms out of the sleeves of the doublet, and it slid on the ground. She unbuckled his belt and pushed two coats off his shoulders at the same time. The light white tunic she had left on was surprisignly modest, and he gently placed his hand at the lacing at her throat. She picked up his hand, flipped it and pressed a kiss on the inside of his wrist.

He looked at her in surprise, it felt as if he had never seen her properly before. She seemed to glow, her strange face suddenly the perfection of lines and angles. Her eyes were shining, and she smiled to him softly.

"Wren…" She nodded and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

"We hardly have much time, sweetpea. Any moment either a hobbit, or a dragon will show up," her teasing was good-humoured, and he chuckled. She was meanwhile getting rid of another layer of his clothing. "Maiar help me, you are like a cabbage… We need to haste."

"I'd rather take my time and never arrive at the completion than have a hurried tumble with you on the ground," he lifted one brow, and she unbuttoned his next garment.

"How noble of you, my lord," she giggled and pulled two tunics off him at once. There was only one thin undertunic left, and she ran her hands over his chest. "But I do want my completion." He guffawed and suddenly picked her up under her buttocks, and turning deftly he pressed her back into the wall. Her neck ended up in front of his face, and he nuzzled her.

She wrapped one arm around his neck, the second hand snaked down his body, and she found the strings on his trousers. The years of filching wallets and picking locks paid off, and he sharply sucked in air when her strong fingers encircled his base.

"Maiar help me, it is generous..." Her tone was playful but nervous, and he opened his eyes and looked at her. She was chewing her bottom lip, "I have never bedded a Khazad before. I have heard, but..." He gently kissed the corner of her lips.

"Wren..." All of a sudden she smiled to him sunnily and leaned to his ear.

"You have to put me down, sweetpea, I am overdressed." Her legs were around his waist, his palms under her buttocks, but she hardly weighed anything. He shifted her on one of his forearms and grabbed her trousers and bloomers with another. Her eyes widened an instant before the loud sound of tearing fabrics rolled in an empty stone passage.

"Brute!" She gasped, but he silenced her pressing his mouth to hers. Judging by her shuffling and wiggling she didn't object to the overall approach, and suddenly his tip brushed her hot center. He groaned and dropped his head on her shoulder. She shifted, and his length pressed into her folds.

"Wren, zudur..." The one who matters. She moaned and rubbed herself to him, eyes closed, her face distant. He felt her moisture, and she greedily caught his mouth. He pressed one palm into the wall and thrust into her.

She was indeed a screamer. A loud bellow she emitted was triumphant. He almost lost consciousness from her tightness and heat, he rolled his hips into her again and again, sheathing deeper, moaning and mumbling words he didn't want to acknowledge. She sobbed, and her nails dug into his shoulders. He pauses, taking loud short breaths in, and then worry took him.

"Wren… Are you?.." He mumbled into her neck, he was overwhelmed and hardly controlling his body, he was starved and wanted to thrust into her, to crush her into him, to take her, and to make her his. Some feverish thoughts thrashed in his head, but a tiny part of him remembered who she was. The redhaired thief, the woman who saved his life, the woman he loved. He needed to take care of her.

She exhaled through rounded lips and emitted a half sob, half chuckle. "You are too much… Almost..." She twisted her head and rubbed her nose to his cheekbone. "Give me one more… instant..."

He suddenly felt the need to be tender. He slightly turned his head and kissed her cheek, then the corner of her lips, then the nose.

"I am sorry..."

"I am not complaining," she laughed shakily. Their eyes met, and he saw the warmth in hers that he was certain was mirrored in his. "Thorin..." Her voice wrapped around his name, and he started moving. His thrusts deep and slow, he buried himself into her again and again, giving it himself fully, showing her what he couldn't say, what he had no name for. She met his every time, loud moans bursting out of her, her strong thighs squeezing his waist, and suddenly she screamed. It was a high pitched unrestricted scream, and his rhythm stuttered. A flicker of consciousness returned to him, fully absorbed in the pleasure before, and he made himself look at her. He wondered if he had hurt her. There were tears running down her cheeks, and he felt almost sick, she was sobbing loudly. Her body arched, she was mumbling something, and suddenly he realised she had just climaxed.

"Wren?" Just muttering her name like a dimwit seemed to be all he was capable of doing today.

"I've never… Maiar, that was..." She slagged in his arms and dropped her forehead on his shoulder. "Maiar..." He stood not sure if he was supposed to move when he realised she was gently rocking, rubbing her inner walls to his length. Her hot little mouth was suddenly pressed to his neck, and then she gently bit into a tendon. He assumed that was his signal.

He started slowly and gently again, but he was losing control quickly, and soon her body was rising sharply with his plunges, her back arching again, her hands grabbing his hair painfully, and she breathed out, "Yes, Thorin, oh umal..." Greater pleasure. She sank her teeth into his shoulder through the fabric, and with her screams muffled, she climaxed again, her body quaking, her walls constricting around him, and he groaned loudly himself. She rocked her hips, prolonging her rapture, murmuring his name, and after a second her body, strained and taut, slumped again.

He was close, his head spinning from desire and hunger for release, and he realised he was pleading, "Please, Wren, I need..." She nodded weakly, and he plunged into her several more times. His whole body was burning, pleasure born somewhere under his skin, and then white agony exploded in his head, almost painful pleasure erupted in his member, and he roared, thrusting into her seeking completion. She was crying out loudly, and he swayed and leaned into the wall, his legs hardly holding him, her back scraped the stone but she didn't seem to notice. His member was twitching inside her, and she mewled.

He pressed his feverish forehead to the cold stone of the wall, and her arms went on his shoulders again. He felt her fingers running through his hair.

"I should have agreed the first night," her tone was pensive, and he chuckled weakly.

"I am glad you enjoyed yourself."

"That is not how I would put it," she laughed throatily and rubbed his ears tenderly. "Are you going to put me down?" He nuzzled her neck and then caught her earlobe between his lips.

"Well, so far no hobbits and no dragons..." He murmured nibbling on the sweet little lobe.

"Are you jesting?" Her tone was disbelieving, and he lightly pushed his hips into her. She choked on her next words, unlike him she apparently was unaware of his next erection, and she shook her head in shock. "Maiar, that was quick..." He smirked into her neck, placing small kisses on her skin, salty from the previous exertion. He wondered if he should have asked her, when suddenly she clenched her walls around him and moaned in her throat. He inhaled sharply and buried his length into her deeper. She loudly cried out, and then she grabbed his ear and pulled painfully.

"Under the knees… Pick up..." She wasn't making any sense, her eyes closed, and head dropped back, and he was losing the clarity of thoughts already, her sweet little quim hugging and caressing him. But her tone was demanding, and he blinked to concentrate. "Pick me up under my knees."

He growled and complied. She opened up to him, the shreds of her trousers and undergarments still on her legs, he spread her, and with his first thrust a loud scream rolled through the walls of his ancestors. He was too far gone to care. She greeted each assault with a honest, unrestrained howl, sometimes replaced with "more" or "deeper," as well as their equivalents in Khuzdul. She climaxed again rather quickly, for some inconceivable reason it was followed by words of gratitude from her, sobbed and mumbled, and he reached his release watching her flushed face, her red lips moving pronouncing the words he couldn't hear from the overwhelming, pure pleasure that burst in his mind.

He started sagging on the floor and pulled her into him to make sure she wasn't scratching her back to the wall after all. He ended up sitting, she wrapped herself around him, her legs crossed behind him, arms around his middle, her head on his shoulder.

"I think this one was double..." Her tone was lazy, and he pressed his lips to her temple. Small orange curls were stuck to her wet skin, she was still breathing heavily, and he clenched his teeth. The words he had no right to pronounce were ready to fall from his lips. Her slender body, the small gentle caresses of her hands, her digits drawing absentminded swirls on his forearms, he exhaled sharply shaking off the pleasant relaxed sluggishness.

"Do we need to go already?" Her voice was sleepy, and he kissed her cheek.

"Or we can use this time more beneficially." She moved away from him and gave him a measuring look.

"I have heard of Dwarven stamina, but surely..." Her eyes were roaming his face, she seemed to be trying determine whether he was making fun of her, and he laughed out loud and caught her lips. They were magnificent, soft and warm, and already so familiar. He caught the bottom one between his teeth, and she suddenly ground her pelvis to his. His member, still inside her, jerked and quickly started swelling. She giggled and moved away from him. There was a peculiar mischievous expression on her face.

"Is your backside suffering on the cold stone?" She tilted her head and licked her lips.

"I am a Dwarf, Wren, we are rarely concerned with comfort." Her little fingers suddenly tickled his waist.

"Then you won't object to this either," she picked up the hem of his tunic and pulled. He guffawed and helped her. The tunic flew somewhere to the side, and she clawed at his chest, purring and mumbling eloquent compliments for some reason in Rohirrim. He was not very proficient in the dialect, but he appreciated the sentiment.

He dropped on his back, pulling her after him. She quickly bent her legs and squeezed him with her knees. She lay on him, her hot palms on the sides of his face and her lips an inch away from his.

"Thorin..." Her breath brushed his lips, and he buried his hands in her now dishevelled curls. She smiled to him softly and started moving. He slid his palms under her tunic, and his fingers met on her shoulder blades. The act was intimate and tender, no fight for dominance or snark from her, her hips moving as if lovingly, his hands caressing her back and sides. She was so small, cool, and fluid. He could encircle her waist in his hands. He started moving to meet her, his hips rising slightly from the ground, and the release took them at the same time. She fell, curled around him and purred. He wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes. She nuzzled his neck and sighed contently. Pleasant tiredness spilled in his body, he was languishly stroking her back for a few minutes when she stirred.

"Still no hobbits or dragons?" She murmured into his skin, and he chuckled.

"Are you hinting on something?" She hummed noncommittally and rose slowly. They looked at each other, and she giggled.

"You have a peculiar face at the moment, sweetpea. Oh Maiar help me, is that how your smile looks?" Her tone was almost believably shocked. He gave it a thought and slapped her round bum slightly. She laughed merrily and places her palms on his chest. The little fingers curled, she apparently liked the hair. Meanwhile he apparently wasn't done. He pushed his hands under her tunic and tenderly stroked the sides, implying and coaxing. She cocked a brow questioningly, and he slightly bucked his hips.

"Oh?" She rounded her lips, and he sharply sat up.

"I would offer you to switch places, but the ground is indeed cold and there is sharp gravel there." She put her arms on his shoulders and feigned pensiveness. She then leaned backwards, picked up couple of his discarded garments and spread them on the ground. He once again thanked Mahal for her flexibility, his member stayed in her through the whole time, and her wiggling worked wonders on his arousal. She then slipped off his length and lay on the ground. He covered her with his body, supporting his weight on his elbows, and kissed her deeply. He knew it was probably their last bout, and he was adamant to make the best of it. He then knelt in front of her and picked her up under her buttocks. He pulled her towards him, and she squealed excitedly. Her legs in the air, spread wide, he sheathed into her, and she arched with a loud raspy moan.

"Oh so good, so good, Thorin..." He had to agree with her, it indeed was. He rolled his hips into her, and she howled. She was probably sensitive, even he started feeling the strain in his muscles, but it was worth it. He was thrusting forcefully, and they were shifting on the floor. She was loud, truly not holding back anymore, and then her voice reached unprecedented pitch. She thrashed, her whole upper body lifting from the ground, nails scraping the stone of the floor, and he swore loudly from the grip of her inner walls, pulsating and squeezing him in her release. A wave of incoherent loud bellowing poured out of her mouth, he could only comprehend there was his name there and a few swearings, and he groaned and kept on moving. She was tight, her inner walls almost feeling greedy before, but nothing could compare to her quim in the middle of climax. She screamed with each of his thrusts, louder and louder, and he thought the world was ending. He was blind and deaf to anything but the perfect pleasure that was spreading through his body.

He dropped her on the floor, she reacted with a loud wail, and he picked up her feet, bent her and placed them on his shoulders. She announced her agreement by calling him 'biraitrib', skillful, and 'mamasmûn', a marvel, followed by loud proclaiming to the world that his cock the best she had ever had, in three languages.

"Wait for me…" He growled feeling her quim once again tensing, he needed to arrive there with her, and she stretched her arms behind her head. He grabbed her hips. Each of his plunges made her body shift on the ground, her mad orange curls slither on the floor, and he snarled through his teeth and released into her, her climax milking and multiplying and prolonging his pleasure. She was probably screaming again but he didn't hear. The most perfect climax he had had in his life flooded his body, born in his member, but overwhelming his whole being, his hearing and vision gone, and he fell on her, mumbling words of love and gratitude. She tightly wrapped her arms around his neck, sobbing underneath him, and murmuring the proclamations of her returned feelings. He buried his face into her neck, breathing in the fragrance of lilacs and her skin, pushing his hands under her shoulder blades, scooping her in his arms, his lips pressed to the pulse on her neck. He didn't remember where and who he was, but the world was perfect, consisting of a small body in his arms and the feeling of her small hands lovingly stroking his hair and nape.