Bilbo was granted access to Smaug's bed after telling the dragon his name. The bed was an almost perfect circle amidst all the coins, which reminded the hobbit strongly of a large glittery nest. It wasn't terribly comfortable or warm, but it was better than the ground, and keeping close to the fire drake kept Bilbo very warm indeed. He slept more soundly beside him than he had in quite some time.

It was difficult to feel much anymore. The first few days after he had given in to the dragon had been racked with guilt, but now, Bilbo hardly felt anything at all. Pain and pleasure he knew exquisitely well, both at the hands of his lover and tormentor. Soft skin was starting to scar over, his body toughening under Smaug's abuse. It was easier to take it now, both because his body had started to grow accustomed and because the hobbit drew all the pleasure he could out of it.

"Talk to me," Smaug demanded one night, when a bruised and bloodied hobbit curled up against his side.

Bilbo looked up in surprise, his eyes raking over the creature's face for the first time in some time now. "What about?" His voice was a bit hoarse with disuse, and he was still catching his breath from the punishment he had just endured.

"Anything. No riddles. I am very bored with riddles," he explained, and Bilbo felt something like a smile twitching his lips upwards.

"Isn't that how you're supposed to speak with a dragon? In riddles?" the hobbit asked. But in looking at Smaug, he had to admit that he looked less like a dragon now than a man. Perhaps he'd grown used to him.

The dragon actually chuckled, a delightfully wicked sound that sent a chill down Bilbo's spine. Brushing a clump of dark hair out of his face with a scaled hand, Smaug's dark eyes met the hobbit's.

"So it is said," he replied, and leaned in to nuzzle Bilbo's neck softly. "But you understand, I am sure, that I have not had a decent conversation in many long years. Any fool who has woken me has thought to speak in riddles. It has me half mad."

"Yes, I suppose that would drive me mad too." Hesitantly, Bilbo reached out to brush a finger across the curved horns set atop Smaug's head. The dragon seemed to find that rather amusing, and his sound in response had the hobbit snapping his hand back quickly.

"Calm yourself, little rabbit," Smaug said, raising a dark eyebrow before settling his head against Bilbo's shoulder. "You have my permission to touch me however much you like. My appearance must seem unsettling to you."

Granted permission, delicate hands gently reached out to stroke the dragon's horns before sliding down to feel his hair. It was surprisingly soft and cool, dark with a little bit of a curl to it. Experimentally, Bilbo let his hands drift down further to caress the dark red scales that trailed down to his nose. Smaug's eyes closed and he made a sound like a contented hum as Bilbo gently petted him. How strange, Bilbo thought, to have a lapful of purring dragon.

"On your back," Smaug said abruptly, and Bilbo paused, surprised. Smaug had taken him only an hour previously. Sensing his hesitation, the dragon huffed, lifting his head and pushing the hobbit down.

"What are we –"

But before Bilbo could finish, Smaug's head was between his legs, nuzzling against his soft cock and making him shudder. He moaned softly as that long, wicked tongue caressed him, his toes curling in pleasure. The dragon had never done this before, and Bilbo was a little nervous for what might follow.

It wasn't long before the hobbit was stiff with pleasure and squirming underneath Smaug, his breathing fast and uneven. He anticipated being taken, but he was wrong. Instead, to his surprise, he felt Smaug's tongue slipping inside him. Bilbo whimpered, arching a bit at the intrusion. He was used to feeling pain at being breached, but not this time. It was more pleasure than he was accustomed to, and he shuddered, his eyes heavily lidded. The dragon smirked at the breathy moans escaping the hobbit, a clawed hand wrapping around his leaking hardness and stroking roughly. It only took a few strokes before Bilbo released with a loud cry, his body trembling uncontrollably as pleasure took him.

Smaug watched him with amusement, pulling the shaking hobbit into his arms and lavishing kisses and licks all over his face and neck. Bilbo moaned and snuggled closer, eyes still closed. Smaug held him close, adoring him with soft touches and kisses until the little creature dropped off into sleep, his face buried in the dragon's chest.

X

Things were progressing slowly in the tunnel. Between the thirteen dwarves, there was only one pickaxe. They took turns taking shifts, two of them at a time. It was extremely slow going, and it was only making the dwarves more anxious.

On the plus side, Dori and Ori had found a stream not far from the Porch that ran down the mountain to join the River Running. They had been quick to refill their waterskins and took turns bathing. The water was cold, but it was better than nothing. They had not bathed since they were in Lake-town, nearly a month ago now. It felt so much longer than that.

Thorin didn't sleep anymore. They had heard Bilbo's voice from within the treasure room, and at least knew he was alive, but the sounds that came from him almost frightened Thorin more than when he had screamed. The fact that Bilbo had not even attempted to speak with them for nearly a week worried him even more. He was not sure how much of the hobbit they had known would be left when – if – they rescued him.

During the nights, Thorin would work alone in the tunnel until his hands were too blistered and bloody to continue. Often times the others would find him in the mornings, unconscious with the pickaxe still held tightly in his ruined hands. After the first time, Oin had bandaged his hands, only for Thorin to rip through them the next night, giving the wounds no time to heal. His mind was too tormented with thoughts of Bilbo for rest. The only time he got any decent sleep was when he fainted from the pain.

Thorin stirred late one afternoon after a long night. He had pushed himself much further than he should have once Bilbo's moans had started, and he had no memory of leaving the tunnel. And yet, here he was, lying on his side in his own bedroll. His hands were throbbing terribly and he groaned.

"It's about time," came a familiar voice.

Thorin forced his eyes open. Balin was sitting beside him, watching him very obvious disapproval. Slowly, he pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing when he used his hands. They had been heavily bandaged, apparently while he'd been asleep.

"I'm to keep an eye on you," Balin said. "Oin's orders. He says you aren't allowed to go near the tunnel until your hands have healed."

"Does he?" Thorin sighed, but it was to be expected, he supposed. As the one with the most medical knowledge, Oin had taken it upon himself to doctor everyone's wounds. He'd threatened to put a watchdog on Thorin before, but the soon-to-be king hadn't taken him seriously.

The older dwarf's disapproving expression changed to sympathy, and he rested a hand lightly on Thorin's knee. "We need you, laddie. It's difficult for all of us, and hardest on you. I understand. But the younger ones need someone to look up to. Someone to lead them. You've been that leader before. We need you to be him again."

Thorin said nothing, his head bowed. Guilt was rising up in his chest, and his hands throbbed worse than ever.

"Thorin, please," Balin pleaded. "I know that strength is in you somewhere. I've seen it myself."

Thorin still remained silent, and white bearded dwarf sighed. "Think on it, at least?"

There was another long moment of silence before the prince finally stood. "I wish to bathe."

"Fili and Kili are already there." Balin nearly jumped to his feet. "Let me remove the bandages on your hands, so they don't get wet."

Thorin nodded curtly, and Balin set to work, gently unwrapping the strips of linen and gauze from the wounds. He whistled in sympathy as prince's palms were bared, raw and bloody from the constant abuse.

"He must have lost his ring," Thorin said abruptly, and Balin glanced up in surprise.

"Hm?"

"Bilbo. His magic ring. The one that makes him invisible. He used it to save us, do you remember?"

The older dwarf hesitated, a little nervous of where exactly this was leading to. "I…suppose he must have."

Thorin just nodded.

X

It wasn't until Thorin was done bathing that he recalled Balin had mentioned FIli and Kili were at the stream as well. He'd been so distracted with his own thoughts that he hadn't even considered looking for them. Dripping wet and nude, he hauled himself out of the stream and onto the grassy banks. He could hear raised voices some ways away, and Thorin recognized them as his nephews' voices. A little concerned, the prince was quick to dress back into his armor, belting on Orcrist and leaving the rest of his clothes in a pile for now. If they were in danger, he didn't have time to dress fully.

As he drew closer to the voices, however, he realized a bit sheepishly that he'd been mistaken. A trail of clothes led behind a rock, where Fili and Kili's voices were emanating.

"Ah! Fili, yes, more!"

"Ha…greedy little brother, aren't you? Alright…"

Quietly, Thorin slipped back to where he'd left the rest of his clothes and put them on, returning back to the Porch. It seemed all his suspicions for the past several years had been correct.

About a half hour later, Fili and Kili returned, both pink in the cheeks and grinning like fools. Thorin smiled slightly, pleased to see them so happy. It seemed even the darkest situations, there was a ray of light to be found.