Chapter Text
The knocks on the door interrupting his dinner, the Dwarves tossing crockery around his kitchen, the Quest, the dragon...Gandalf's insistence that he, Bilbo Baggins of all Hobbits, was a burglar, this was all shocking, of course. But nothing was more shocking than the sound of his bedroom door opening and closing, quietly, after the Dwarves had finished their songs and settled in for the night. The smial had settled into its nightly noises, quiet creaks of the timber walls and the snapping of sap from the fireplaces, accompanied on this night by the shuffles and snores of slumbering Dwarves, and at last, Bilbo had begun to settle into sleep himself. The weary, exhausted sleep that follows an emotional roller coaster of a night.
His eyes snapped open when the door latch had clicked into place, but the shadows in the room hid the person who had entered. Perhaps one of the Dwarves had lost his way? Or Gandalf had decided to attempt another argument to entice Bilbo into joining the Quest? Whatever it was, Bilbo was not in the mood. His frustration had ebbed, but had not faded completely. And now he was to be invaded in his bedchamber as well?
He sat up, shaking the sleep from his brain and demanded, “Who's there?”
The shadow at his door stepped forward, coalescing into none other than Thorin Oakenshield himself, much to Bilbo's astonishment. What was he doing here?
“What are you doing here?” Bilbo asked, the words leaping from his mouth even as his brain formed them.
Thorin stood, half revealed in the light, and stared appraisingly at Bilbo, still seated on the bed. Bilbo waited impatiently, purposefully not noticing what he'd been attempting not to notice all evening, since three harsh knocks on the door had heralded Thorin's arrival. That is to say, that Thorin Oakenshield was possibly the most striking creature that Bilbo had ever had the privilege of laying eyes on. As he'd stood before that same appraising gaze earlier, upon Thorin's arrival, Bilbo had felt his heart pound madly, his knees trembling and his hands sweating, for Thorin was tall, built like a block of solid stone, but finely chiseled nonetheless. His eyes, his beard, his hair, even his clothing-fur and leather and metal in perfect harmony. His commanding presence had been reinforced by the sheer size of him, the scent of night air and minerals that swirled around him as he'd circled Bilbo in the foyer, Gandalf and the rest of the Dwarves watching expectantly. Bilbo had been shaken to his core with the rush of desire that had crashed over him in that moment. It had been tempered by irritation and apprehension, but it had been impossible to deny.
The encounter hadn't lasted long, Thorin had sized him up and found him wanting in mere moments, turning away, dismissing Bilbo with smirk and a sharp comment. Bilbo had been left standing, stunned, in the foyer, staring wildly at Gandalf as he'd sighed and shrugged before following Thorin and the Dwarves back into the dining room.
After that, Bilbo had pushed aside the fluttering of nervousness in his gut and followed Gandalf, keeping to the hall outside the dining room, which was filled to bursting with Dwarves, and listening to the discussion of Erebor, of portents and gold and a dragon. The dragon had thrown another lump into Bilbo’s gut, one that had overtaken him even more so than the act of standing over Thorin with a candle, trying desperately to focus his attention on the map instead of the way Thorin's hair curled as it spilled over his shoulder, or the masculine scent that surrounded him.
When Bofur's ever so helpful comments had filled his brain with visions of fire and death, he had welcomed the sweet relief of oblivion. The night had been too much in the end, and despite Gandalf's admonishments about how he'd changed, how he was a Took, how he was hardly the first Hobbit who had been faced with the opportunity of adventure, Bilbo had retreated to his room, shaken in more ways than one, and confused. He'd wanted to hide, to run and hide himself away until the Dwarves had taken themselves off into the East, and yet, he'd been unable to stop himself from casting a glance down the hallway to where Thorin had stood in hushed discussion with Balin. He would regret it, he knew, never laying eyes on that beautiful Dwarf again, and he had simply needed to stash away one more glimpse, a vision to pull out for future perusal when he was alone and the smial had settled lonely around him in the dead of night.
And then, as he'd sat and breathed the calm of the night back into his shaken form, it had begun. A humming, deep and rich, resonating into Bilbo's bones, preceding that voice, Thorin's voice. It could be no other, and it had struck a chord inside Bilbo that had never been touched before. He shivered anew as Thorin sang, his voice filled with emotion, dark and measured, and it had washed over Bilbo, filling him up with the same lust that Thorin's presence had awoken in him that very evening.
It was ludicrous, really. Desiring a Dwarf, especially one that had come uninvited into Bilbo's home, into his life, and had then dismissed him readily, and yet had proceeded to strip away Bilbo's denial without even trying. It was utter folly.
And now, Thorin stood, silently, unmoving as Bilbo's thoughts swirled chaotically inside his head. His eyes never left Bilbo's and if Thorin's presence hadn't shaken him, the intensity of his gaze would have in moments.
Bilbo swallowed thickly and then stood, demanding again the reason for Thorin's invasion of his private chamber.
“I've come to persuade you to join us,” Thorin stated simply, unmoving.
Bilbo scoffed, tearing his eyes away from Thorin's molten blue gaze. “You really believe you can talk me into following you on this insane venture?” he asked, shaking his head at the sheer gall of the idea.
“Who said anything about talking?' Thorin replied, his voice rich with amusement and determination. “I said I had come to persuade you.”
“But, how...” Bilbo puzzled, his brow creased in a frown.
“I've found that talking isn't very persuasive, really,” Thorin stated, finally moving, taking another step toward Bilbo. “And it's not a strength of mine.”
“Then wha...” Bilbo began, his question strangled in his throat as Thorin proceeded to slide his surcoat off, tossing it onto the rack by the door, its presence a contradiction against the fine, delicate fabrics of Bilbo's favourite jackets.
“I thought I'd take a different path with you,” Thorin said, his long, sure steps bringing him to within touching distance, close enough so that Bilbo tried to take a step back, succeeding not in escape, but in perching himself precariously on the bed.
“Wh...what path?” Bilbo asked, mortified by the high pitched squeak of his voice. Thorin chuckled in response, leaning down, closer, to whisper in Bilbo's ear.
“I can smell it, you realize.” He didn't pull back all the way, remaining close, so close that Bilbo's cheek warmed, whether from the proximity or the rush of blood to his cheeks, Bilbo was unsure. Perhaps both.
He couldn't bring himself to formulate a response, his ridiculous brain could do nothing but stare blankly up at Thorin, so close now that Bilbo could once again smell him, the scent of pipeweed and ale mixing with the earthiness of earlier.
“Your desire is palpable,” Thorin continued, leaning in again, nosing along the rim of Bilbo's ear, sending a shudder through him. “It covers you like a blanket.”
He moved even closer then, leaning into Bilbo, his hands resting on the bed beside Bilbo's legs, his cheek pressed flush against Bilbo's now. He breathed deeply, ghosting his lips across the lobe of Bilbo's ear and down over his neck. It was only the faintest of touches, but it was rapidly turning Bilbo into a puddle of need and longing, the intensity of it unprecedented in Bilbo's experience.
He moved closer still, burying his face into the crease of Bilbo's neck and shoulder, the motion threatening to tip Bilbo back onto the bed, had he not clutched at Thorin in reflex, his hands grasping for purchase against Thorin's leather vambraces.
Thorin pulled back, far enough to that he could look at Bilbo's face, which was no doubt red and flushed, the immediacy of Thorin's presence stripping Bilbo of all pretence of resistance.
“You are exceptionally attractive,” Thorin said, his voice a rumble that Bilbo felt in his chest, scarcely able to take in the words. “And I would have you before I leave, whether I succeed in the persuasion or not.”
“Nguh,” was all that Bilbo could muster in response, but it pulled a heady chuckle from Thorin.
“Shall I take that as a yes?” he asked, but before Bilbo could attempt an answer, his lips were caught in the warm, wet slide of Thorin's kiss.
A sharp, desperate sound was wrenched from Bilbo's throat as Thorin filled his senses completely, lips coaxing Bilbo's open, tongue sweeping in to deepen the kiss and before Bilbo knew what was happening, he was being pressed into his bed by Thorin's body, his mouth still drawing Bilbo deeper as he settled atop the Hobbit, arms framing Bilbo's head and shoulders, one strong thigh pushing Bilbo's aside as his hips settled into the vee of Bilbo's legs. He gasped suddenly as Thorin's groin pressed against his own, mortified to realize for the first time, that he was hard and aching, his needy cock pressed into the cage of his trousers, into the matching heat of Thorin's arousal.
Thorin broke off the kiss, his lips travelling instead across Bilbo's smooth cheek and over his neck, sucking and biting as he rolled his hips with excruciating slowness, the onslaught of lust cresting over Bilbo once more. Thorin's chuckle vibrated into the sensitive skin of Bilbo's neck, causing another shudder to wash over him. He clutched even harder at Thorin, the stiff leather cold beneath his hands.
Then Thorin pulled back, leaving Bilbo gasping with loss as the cool night air enfolded him again.
“You are beautiful like this, Bilbo Baggins,” Thorin remarked, pulling his arms out of Bilbo's grasp, but not backing away. He casually rolled his hips, his erection never ceasing in its slow slide against Bilbo’s own, distracting Bilbo as he removed the leather vambraces first, tossing them aside and proceeding to divest himself of his leather tunic, revealing the softer, thinner one beneath.
“Shall I strip you bare and see just how beautiful you can be, flushed and sweating and desperate for release?”
Bilbo gasped again as Thorin pressed harder, his groin still in direct contact with Bilbo's as he pulled another layer of clothing away, leaving his chest bared to Bilbo's gaze, which raked over him in a desperate desire to see all, to take in every facet of Thorin's naked flesh.
Bilbo's head was spinning as he took in the picture above him. Thorin's gaze was intense, his eyes a deep, striking blue that Bilbo had never seen in any Hobbit's face, though blue eyes were fairly common among them. His hair was long, so long and thick, spilling like ink across the pale skin of Thorin's shoulders and chest, skin that was itself covered in inky black hair, shorter and coarser looking than the rest. Bilbo didn't imagine that Thorin had spent much time bare in the sun, Dwarves tended to prefer mountain halls when they could get them, that much he knew. He was quite a few shades lighter than any Hobbit Bilbo had seen bared in such a way, the darkness of his hair and beard, the intensity of his eyes a stark counterpoint to his colouring. Far from being unattractive, Bilbo thought the contrast made him more vibrant, more striking than even Bilbo could have envisioned.
Thorin's hands went to his trousers now, unlacing the front slowly, his knuckles brushing Bilbo's erection as they moved, making Bilbo gasp in surprise at the contact. He knew that he should say no, that he should push Thorin away, it was only going to complicate things and, after all, hadn't Thorin said he was doing this to persuade Bilbo? Bilbo did not want to be persuaded, it would be better for all involved if he ended it now. He'd determined to do just that, and pushed himself up to sit, reaching to shove at Thorin's chest, to dislodge him, to put an end to this before Thorin bared more of himself to Bilbo's hungry eyes.
Thorin seemed to have read his mind, for just when Bilbo had opened his mouth to speak, Thorin's hand left his laces and pressed firmly against Bilbo's unflagging erection. He squeezed roughly, stroking the length and Bilbo was lost. He collapsed back onto the bed with a groan as all his senses converged on that point, his cock throbbing with need while Thorin's large hand gripped him tightly.
Just as suddenly as it had come, the pressure left, but Bilbo was too far gone now to put up even a token of resistance. All thoughts of denial were gone, if he was being offered an opportunity like this, he was going to take it.
“Your turn,” Thorin said gruffly, leaning forward, his cock pressing against Bilbo's once more.
“My...what,” Bilbo began, but he was silenced when Thorin's hot, strong hands pulled his shirt from his trousers, slipping beneath the fabric, grasping at Bilbo's skin. Bilbo gasped again at the contact, mentally berating himself for being unable to form a coherent thought as Thorin stroked up his sides, his hands cupping Bilbo's shoulders and squeezing before pulling the shirt up, forcing Bilbo to raise his arms.
Bilbo shivered as the shirt was dragged over his head, mussing his hair and leaving him open to Thorin's lustful gaze and groping hands. He ran his callused fingers across Bilbo's chest and sides, tweaking Bilbo's nipples and earning a squawk before tracing up around Bilbo's neck, tipping his head back with a firm grip on Bilbo's jaw.
“Thorin,” Bilbo whispered, unsure of what he would have said next when Thorin leaned in further, his whole body pressing Bilbo into the bed as his lips and teeth roamed across Bilbo's collarbone. His own hands had moved of their own volition, sliding up Thorin's arms to grasp his broad shoulders, feeling the muscles flex as Thorin adjusted his grip on Bilbo's head, turning it as he chose, chasing the salt on Bilbo's skin with his tongue. The shock of Thorin's bare chest pressed into his had sent a fresh surge of blood rushing through Bilbo, setting his nerves tingling and his cock pulsing in time with his frantic heartbeat.
Thorin pressed down harder, the heat of his arousal lighting a fire inside Bilbo as he dug his short fingernails into Thorin's skin. His resistance was long gone, and with Thorin's mouth sucking blood up to his skin across his neck and chest, Bilbo threw himself off the edge at last, allowing himself to do what he'd been wanting all along.
He cried Thorin's name again, reaching up into his glorious hair and tugging as his legs rose to wrap around Thorin's waist, bringing their bodies closer still. Thorin chuckled against Bilbo's neck, pulling back to rest his forehead on Bilbo's, his breath hot and humid against Bilbo's mouth.
“I thought there was some fire in you,” Thorin said, his voice deeper even than it had been, husky with lust and amusement. “Show it to me.”
Bilbo complied, using his grip on Thorin's hair to pull him down, even as he surged upward and captured Thorin's lips with his own. The kiss became a battle, open mouthed and deep, tongues thrusting and teeth clacking, Bilbo's desire rising as Thorin met his challenge. He squeezed Thorin's hips with his thighs as his hands roamed Thorin's broad back, as far as they could reach, scraping welts into Thorin's skin with his blunt fingernails.
Thorin's hands followed Bilbo's example, slipping down his chest to tweak Bilbo's sensitive nipples, before reaching beneath him, dragging down Bilbo's back, from his shoulders to his ass, which Thorin kneaded, pulling Bilbo up to gain more leverage for their increasingly urgent thrusting.
“Enough!” Bilbo cried at last, pushing up on Thorin's shoulders, releasing his grip on Thorin's hips, attempting to push Thorin back with feet on his thighs. Thorin was unmovable, stone solid as he was, but he pulled back to look at Bilbo, eyes dark and lips red.
“Enough,” Bilbo repeated, still pushing at Thorin's shoulders, ignoring the sceptical look on Thorin's face. “Pants, off!” he declared, reaching down to finish what Thorin had started, tugging ineffectively at the half loosened lacings on Thorin's trousers. Thorin grinned wickedly, acquiescing to Bilbo's determined pushing. He shifted back and brushed away Bilbo's hands, unlacing and pushing his trousers off himself. Both trousers and boots were removed in mere seconds, it was clear that Thorin was well practised in their quick removal
Bilbo stared, entranced by the sight of Thorin's cock, much wider and longer than any Bilbo had seen in his lifetime, standing proudly out of a thatch of dark, curling hair. Thorin was all but covered in coarse black hair, it spread thick across his chest, thinning up to his shoulders, becoming more sparse as it descended, over back and belly, but the hair surrounding his cock was thicker than the rest, curling tighter.
Bilbo reached out tentatively, wanting nothing more than to touch. The dark pink at the head looked soft, the skin on the shaft pulled snug against its inner hardness. He sucked in a harsh breath when his fingers found their goal, brushing gently across the tip and fluttering down the steel shaft, which jumped in his hand as Thorin groaned roughly. It was as soft as it looked, and yet, as with the rest of Thorin's body, was hard as stone encased in velvet skin.
Bilbo's grip tightened as his hand began to move, watching with wide eyes as the skin on the shaft slipped up and down with his hand. Thorin's cock twitched again, this time Bilbo felt the head expand in his palm, a sure indication that Thorin was close, much closer than he had seemed only moments before.
“Not yet,” Thorin said, drawing back away from Bilbo and leaning down once more, trailing hot kisses and nipping bites onto Bilbo's neck, making his way quickly down Bilbo's chest before pressing his face into the Hobbit's soft belly, breathing deep as he rubbed his nose over the sparse hair on Bilbo's navel.
Bilbo buried his hands in Thorin's hair again, luxuriating in the silky softness off it, breathing in the cool smell of night air that arose from it, the fresh scent warring with the heated fragrance of arousal and fevered skin. He groaned and tugged when Thorin's deft fingers made quick work of the fastenings on his trousers, pulling them down far enough so that he could continue to rub his face against Bilbo, his beard soft and prickly all at once on the sensitive skin of Bilbo's cock.
Bilbo cried out incoherently as Thorin's mouth wrapped around his arousal, suddenly, taking him down to the root before pulling up again, with a blissful suction that left Bilbo aching. His climax was approaching, of that he had no doubt...the simple act of Thorin's mouth on him was bringing him to his peak faster than he had anticipated, faster than he wanted.
“Not yet,” he pleaded, echoing Thorin's words, tugging harshly on the hair in his hands. Thorin lifted his head in response, his lips red and swollen with more than their shared kisses, a sly grin turning them up at the edges.
“As you wish,” he said, giving Bilbo's cock one last swipe of his tongue, tasting the droplet that had formed at the tip before pulling back. He grabbed the waistband of Bilbo's trousers and, in one smooth motion, pulled them out from under Bilbo's rear, up and off his legs and over his feet before tossing them carelessly to the side.
Thorin caught Bilbo's legs before he could bring them down again, gripping them with his large hands, wrapping his fingers completely around Bilbo's ankles before sliding them down, down, over Bilbo's knees until he was gripping the backs of Bilbo's thighs. There he held, pushing Bilbo's legs until he was bent nearly double, leaving the most intimate places of his body bare and open, at Thorin's mercy.
Thorin leaned into him again, but this time, there was no barriers between them, nothing but the press of hot skin, the slide of Thorin's cock against Bilbo's, finally. Bilbo groaned louder, stunned by the heat that Thorin gave off...Bilbo thought that if the fire were to go out, he probably wouldn't notice, as long as Thorin's body was pressed into his.
“Tell me you want it,” Thorin said, bracing himself on the bed, Bilbo's legs draped over his arms as he slid his hands into Bilbo's hair, to hold his head in place, pinning Bilbo under him. “Tell me, or I'll walk away.”
“No,” Bilbo gasped, eyes squeezed shut, clutching Thorin's shoulders with greedy hands. “No, don't...I want it.”
“You want what?” Thorin rolled his hips slowly, drawing more gasps from Bilbo's slack lips. “Do you want to come like this?” he asked, pressing into Bilbo with more force, more speed, but Bilbo shook his head, panting with a different need.
“No, I...not like this,” he said, opening his eyes to look into Thorin's, so close above him, their heated breath mingling.
“What then?”
“Take me,” Bilbo begged, wrapping his arms around Thorin's neck, his hair tangled in Bilbo's grasping fingers. “I want you inside.”
“Mmmm, good,” Thorin said, shifting his hips so that his cock slid away from Bilbo's, pressing at him from lower now, the slick, fat tip nudging roughly against the whorl of Bilbo's hole. “I was hoping you'd say that.”
“Yes, yeah...that's what I want, hurry up.” Bilbo was getting desperate, their mutual desire lay heavy in the air around them, the heat from Thorin's body and the feel of his hair on Bilbo's over sensitized skin, the press and thrust of his erection, it all merged together, overwhelming Bilbo with the sudden, unexpected seduction.
“Good thing I brought this,” Thorin said with a smirk, leaning away from Bilbo long enough to dig a vial of oil from within the pile of his discarded clothing. He wasted no time in uncapping the vial and drizzling some of the fragrant oil, no doubt found in Bilbo's own bathroom, onto thick, blunt fingers, drawing back just enough to slip one finger inside.
“Oh!” Bilbo exclaimed, the shock of the intrusion slipping away quickly as Thorin worked his finger in and out quickly, not so rough that it hurt. “Thorin, I...” he gasped, uncertain whether he wanted Thorin to slow down or hurry up, now that they'd reached that point.
“You want another, don't you?” Thorin whispered as his finger pressed deeper, then pulled out to circle Bilbo's entrance. “You want me to spread you wide open, wide enough to take my cock inside.”
“Yes, yes!” Bilbo cried, his voice lifting in volume and pitch as Thorin did just that, sliding another finger inside Bilbo, rougher this time. Far from hurting him, it drove moans and grunts out of Bilbo's lips, his cock aching with the anticipation of his fast approaching climax. A third slid in quickly, Thorin as impatient as Bilbo, not wasting any more time than was needed to ready Bilbo for his thick cock.
Finally he pulled back, after what seemed to Bilbo to be an eternity, although it was far less time than he'd ever spent in preparation before. Pausing only to slick his hand once more, spreading the fresh oil onto his cock with brisk, efficient strokes, Thorin held Bilbo's leg back with his free hand and with the other, guided himself into Bilbo's slackened hole.
Bilbo cried out again, louder than before, and a fleeting thought passed through his lust soaked brain, that the others must surely have been awoken by now, the smial was hardly soundproof, and knew exactly what was transpiring in Bilbo's room that night.
Bilbo didn't care. Thorin pressed forward aggressively, splitting him open with a burn that was just this side of too much...too painful, too wide, too intense, but he didn't stop until he was seated all the way, his heavy balls pressing against Bilbo's backside. He paused only for a moment before pulling back and pushing in again, leaning down to spread Bilbo's legs further, changing the angle of his thrusts just enough to hit on that one spot that had Bilbo seeing stars behind his closed eyelids.
“Open your eyes,” Thorin commanded. “Look at me!”
So Bilbo did. Thorin was very close now, his body pressed into Bilbo so tightly that he could feel every tensed muscle in Thorin's torso, could see the brilliance of his eyes more clearly than before. He was helpless against the fury of Thorin's passion, clutching desperately at Thorin's thick neck as he rode out his peak, his aching cock spurting his release without warning, slicking their bellies as Thorin continued to thrust, hard and fast, sparing no thought to Bilbo's tingling nerves and he drove relentlessly toward his own climax.
Just when Bilbo thought he could take it no more, Thorin gritted his teeth against the rumbling roar that began in his chest, vibrating against Bilbo's sensitive flesh as the head of his cock surged inside Bilbo, slicking him from the inside with Thorin's release.
They shivered in the afterglow, muscles trembling with the exertion, their panting breaths a symphony of spent passion. Thorin drew back his arms, allowing Bilbo's legs to drop uselessly, settling around Thorin's hips as Thorin leaned in again. His body was pressed to Bilbo's once more, his face buried in Bilbo's neck, breathing deep as his heartbeat slowed. Bilbo gave a weak tug of Thorin's hair, shuddering with the aftershocks, Thorin's still firm cock holding its place inside him.
Several long moments passed before Thorin pulled back, his cock sliding from Bilbo's hole, the mess between their bellies resisting with a soft suction before releasing them. Bilbo's hands flopped to the bed, as useless as his legs, his entire body boneless as a result of their frantic coupling.
“Thorin,” he panted, forcing his heavy eyes to open, moaning regretfully as Thorin backed away and the cool air of the room prickled his skin. Thorin's hand pressed into his chest momentarily before slipping up to grasp his neck, fingers fluttering over the angry red marks they found there, then sliding downwards, swiping across Bilbo's navel, slicking his palm with Bilbo's release. He lifted the hand in question, lapping at the mess with his broad tongue while staring into Bilbo's eyes, his heady gaze not leaving Bilbo's for a moment.
Bilbo's cock gave a twitch at the sight, then another as Thorin moaned deeply, taking in their combined mess and Bilbo's lax body.
“I knew you would be beautiful like this,” he said, lifting a brow in appreciation. “I'm almost never wrong, but it's still nice to be proven right.”
Bilbo had no response to give, closing his eyes once more as Thorin moved away from the bed. By the sounds that followed, Bilbo knew what he was up to, and his suspicions were confirmed when Thorin returned, wiping the mess from Bilbo's belly with a soft, damp cloth before lifting one of Bilbo's legs and gently cleaning his tender hole.
Bilbo's breathing evened out, the demands of the evening and his stunning release pushing him towards sleep far more quickly than he'd have liked. Thorin rearranged his limbs on the bed, shifting Bilbo up and tucking the blankets around him. Bilbo's chest gave a twinge at the gentle touches, so at odds to the demand with which Thorin had debauched him, satisfaction warring with regret that Thorin would not be joining him in sleep.
“Think about it,” Thorin said, his voice low and insistent. “Gandalf seems to think we need you, and I think he might be right.” Bilbo frowned, remembering suddenly the reason for Thorin's visit to his room, forcing his eyes open once more to see Thorin pulling on trousers and undershirt before gathering up the rest of his clothing, picking up his boots before padding across the room to the door.
“Until next time, Bilbo Baggins,” he said quietly, slipping out the door as unobtrusively as he'd come in, the soft latch of the door closing lost to Bilbo as he succumbed to sleep.
* * *
Bilbo awoke to silence, the early morning sun dappling his bedchamber in soft light, the warmth of his bed urging him to close his eyes once more and doze for another hour or so. He shifted, an unexpected twinge in his thighs pulling him further from sleep, the empty burn of his backside dragging him further into awareness as he stretched naked under the covers.
His eyes snapped open with a rush of memory that overtook him. He was naked. In bed. Alone. The events of the previous evening washed over him, the Dwarves, Gandalf, the Quest and more than anything, Thorin. Thorin appraising him before coolly dismissing him, Thorin encouraging the others as he spoke of Erebor with passion, Thorin's rich, velvet voice lifted in song, Thorin, pressing him into the bed and taking everything Bilbo had to give, marking him with tongue and teeth and need.
Bilbo rushed out of bed, pulling on his discarded clothing with haste before slipping out his door, only to be met with a silent house, the creaks of the wood and the air whistling through the open windows the only sound. He called out, paced through the kitchen to the sitting room, confusion and regret warring with relief as he realized that Bag End was spotless once more, devoid of Dwarves and Wizards and all things unexpected.
He turned from the window and spotted the contract on the ottoman where he'd left it the previous night, Thorin's name in graceful script above Balin's, the blank space below calling out to Bilbo and in that moment, he knew.
Whatever lay before them mattered not. He'd follow Thorin Oakenshield wherever he led.