Chapter Text
Dwalin’s jeans were entirely too tight as Bilbo slid the spoon out of his mouth only to drag the tip of his pink tongue up the length of it, licking at the melted vanilla ice cream, eyes fluttering close with pleasure. There was a smudge of white along his cheek. Dwalin wasn't sure when it'd appeared but he wanted to lick it, lick down Bilbo's jaw and not stop until he arrived at his cock.
Fuck. There was porn less graphic than what he was currently watching.
And the noises Bilbo made with every spoonful; moans and breathy little sighs, those could have been lifted straight out of a skin flick. Oh, fucking hell, that was a whimper, this wasn't fair.
To sum up Dwalin's current situation; going out for dinner had either been great idea or one of the worst idea ever.
Dwalin tried to surreptitiously glance around the restaurant. He was pretty sure that people were staring, but he wasn’t sure if that was due to them being recognised off the telly, or just because of the show Bilbo was putting on as he molested his ice cream. Or possibly was molested by his ice cream, Dwalin wasn't entirely sure.
“Mmm,” Bilbo sighed as he put his spoon away in the empty bowl. “I should do a dessert book. Why have I not done one already when just chocolate and ice cream is that good?”
He frowned in concern when he noticed that Dwalin had hardly (hah!) touched his dessert. “Dwalin, is something wrong?”
Dwalin, a little busy trying to figure out if Bilbo making an entire book about dessert would require an audiobook version where Bilbo moaned along during applicable passages, missed the question entirely.
“Darling?”
“Huh?” Dwalin snapped out of his thoughts when Bilbo nudged their feet together underneath the table.
“You’ve not had your dessert,” Bilbo said, nodding down at Dwalin’s mostly melted ice cream. “Are you feeling all right? It was very good ice cream.”
“Oh I know,” Dwalin rumbled.
He entertained a thought about flagging someone down to ask for a doggy bag to bring the ice cream home in. It wouldn’t matter if it was melted, because what he’d like to do was to pour it on himself and offer Bilbo a taste. But… “We've ice cream at home right?”
Bilbo blinked. “Yes? I think we do.”
“Good,” Dwalin said before nudging his plate over to Bilbo’s side of the table. “You can have this then.”
Dwalin spread his legs a little wider to try and make some room for his ever-more interested dick.
It was quite possible that he'd need to 'accidentally' spill some ice water on himself before they had to get up from the table, but it was a sacrifice he was prepared to make.