Chapter Text
Bilbo had not given any great consideration to the accents of others. Of course he knew that people expressed their words differently throughout middle earth and had of course joined the other hobbitlings when he was young in attempting to imitate the precise and elegant accents of the elves. But aside from the occasional trip to Bree and travellers through Hobbiton Bilbo had had little exposure to accents from outside the Shire.
Until of course he found himself host to 13 dwarves.
Bilbo had very little difficulty understanding them one at a time but as he stood now, surrounded by dwarves bustling through his home and chattering loudly amongst themselves, Bilbo could not confidently tell you what was being said within his smial. Though he shouted complaints as dwarves passed many disregarded him or waved him off. In fact, after all the dwarves had introduced themselves at his doorstep Bilbo could not recall being spoken to once; the dwarves happy to speak amongst their kin and make themselves at home.
Bilbo gaped in astonishment as one of the dwarves passed him while carrying three large cheese wheels, “A bit excessive, don't you think?” He frowned as he was ignored and shouted after the dwarf “Have you got a cheese knife?”
Bilbo startled at the particularly notable accent and hot breath that assaulted his sensitive ears the moment after as one of the dwarves joked of the other, “Cheese knife?” the dwarf leaned even closer into the hobbit's space, “He eats it by the block.”
Bilbo shivered at the feel of breath against the side of his head, his ears heating as he watched the dwarf walk away. Bilbo tugged at his suspenders as he made attempt to recall the dwarf's name. It was one of the ones that started with a 'B' he was sure.
He stared after the dwarf until his eyes caught sight of others rearranging his furniture and he found himself protesting to deaf ears; though if the dwarf's hand motions were to be believed he was now doing so in a more literal sense.
Bilbo watched helplessly as more furniture was placed around the food laden table and his guests began to eat. Bilbo was quite frankly appalled by their behaviour. They ate with their hands, they disregarded their plates. Bilbo even saw the dwarf who had spoken to him before toss food from one end of the table to the other.
Bilbo moved down the hallway, not wanting to watch any longer and feeling the need to check on the state of the rest of his home. Needless to say it was a mess. As he made his way down the hallway
back towards the kitchen he saw one of the dwarves wiping at a cup with one of his decorative white doilies and quickened his pace to follow after him, snatching it from the much larger hands and snapping, “That is a doily, not a dish cloth.”
While the dwarf ignored him and began looking through Bilbo's drawers a familiar voice spoke up from behind him, “But it's full of holes.”
Bilbo turned to face the dwarf with the odd hat and gestured with the hand holding the doily, “It's supposed to look like that; it's crochet.” He turned to move away, not wanting to look too long at the expressive face he found beneath the hat. Bifur maybe? No, that didn't seem quite right.
“And a great game it is too, if you've got the balls for it.”
Bilbo flushed and cursed the dwarves, rounding on Gandalf when he entered the kitchen to make is complaints known to the cause. When he paused in his ranting to Gandalf one of the younger dwarves asked him about the dirty dishes and Bilbo, once again ignored, found himself watching as his pottery began flying through the hall.
He turned to find a way to stop the continued tossing of his plates only to find the dwarves that remained seated were conducting small fights between themselves with the silverware. Though his complaints were at least acknowledged in concern for the silverware, the dwarf with the funny hat and warm voice twisted his words into a ridiculous song about the things he hated.
And then the evening somehow got worse.
With the arrival of their leader Bilbo went from being ignored to being insulted. Bilbo found himself oddly hurt when the dwarf with the hat laughed along with the rest of the group when he was accused of being a grocer.
The dwarf who had spoken to Bilbo stood to one side of the doorway into the room where they had moved the dining table while the dwarves moved in to reclaim their seats. Bilbo stood at the other side of the entryway for lack of anything better to do, glancing over occasionally in what he hoped was a subtle manner.
“Ah, excuse me, Bofur.” Gandalf grumbled as he passed through the doorway. Bilbo glanced up at the dwarf. Bofur. So that was his name. Well, he had been close. Bofur caught his eye and flashed him a sharp grin before turning into the room and seating himself in the last chair.
Bilbo stood behind Gandalf as the group began discussing the journey ahead. Bilbo attempted to follow the conversation despite not entirely knowing the context. When Gandalf drew attention to the Hobbit, insisting he was the best choice as their burglar Bilbo felt the stares of the company boring into him. He fidgeted with discomfort as he stood to be judged.
Reading the contract certainly didn't help to calm him down, and as fond as Bilbo was becoming of Bofur's lilting voice he found himself cursing the dwarf as he proceeded to describe in detail incineration by dragon fire.
Bilbo fainted.
II
He had told Gandalf no.
Bilbo just could not bring himself to agree to such a venture. He knew himself. He knew he would change his mind were he to sign the contract through impulse.
But there was a fairly large part of him that ached to leave his room and stand with the dwarves. The low hum of their song was easy to hear from the bed where he sat.
It wasn't much longer that he heard the shuffle of feat as the company began to move for bed. Bilbo, ever the proper host, stood and left his room to direct Thorin to the main guest room and the rest towards spare rooms where they could set up their bedrolls. He had nearly everyone settled when a rough hand grasped his shoulder, “So yer not comin' then?”
Bilbo turned to look at Bofur and shook his head, “It's best I didn't.”
Bilbo flushed lightly as the other's dark eyes trailed over his face in consideration, “Well, then I suppose I have no reason not t' ask. Why've ye been staring at me all evening?” He tilted his head and glanced at the ceiling, “Cause I know what I'd usually assume is unlikely considering the current company.”
“And what's wrong with the current company?” Bilbo asked with a huff, mistaking the statement as reference to his own person.
Bofur laughed, “You've a house full of dwarves, ten of which are of noble blood and one of which is a very handsome king. I know how this story plays out.”
Bilbo smiled and grabbed hold of the ends of his hat, “I don't think you give yourself enough credit.” He tugged the dwarf closer till their faces were mere inches apart, pleased with how easily the dwarf allowed himself to be led.
“Master Baggins, I'm not su---” Bilbo interrupted the dwarf's protests, pulling firmly on his hat and sliding their mouths together. He thrilled at the prickle of the thick moustaches and the feel of the dwarf's hand sliding into his hair and against his waist.
Bilbo moved back, pulling Bofur along as he lead them towards his bedroom. Luckily they were not too far from the master bedroom as neither dwarf nor hobbit was paying much attention to their surroundings and even the short trip proved to be difficult with mouth occupied and lights out.
Once they had entered the room Bilbo pushed Bofur in the general direction of the bed as he closed the door and shuffled through one of the drawers in his night-stand for candle and match. The soft lighting gave the dwarf on his bed a warm glow. Bilbo paused to simply look at Bofur sprawled out and smiling. He really was quite lovely.
Bilbo eagerly straddled Bofur's lap at the edge of the bed, pushing at his chest until his back was against the mattress as Bilbo returned his lips to the dwarf's. He tugged the thick leather hat off of the hairy head, wondering faintly what he would find beneath. Bilbo was pleased when his hands found no bald spot or axe head as Bofur's relatives sported. He briefly tangled his hands into the roots of the hair before moving his hands away. He tugged the leather binding off of the braid near his right hand.
Bofur pulled away from the kiss, “Oi now, none of that.” he complained though it was already too late for the right braid, “I'll 'ave to redo them now.” he said with an exaggerated pout.
Bilbo quickly unbound the remaining two sections of hair. He ran his fingers through the braids, separating the soft waves from their order, “If it's really such a hassle then I'll help you fix them after.” he smiled, thrilled to look down on the dwarf while all his hair was sprawled around his head, dark against the white quilt beneath.
Bofur hummed and winked, “My my, that's really quite forward of you, Master Baggins.”
“Is it?”
Bofur sat up, slid his hands beneath the hobbit's thighs, stood, then easily tossed Bilbo towards the head of the bed. Bilbo watched eagerly as the dwarf began undoing the closures of his thick vest, “Oh aye,” Bofur said as the vest fell to the floor, “were you a dwarf an offer like that would be the equivalent of a marriage proposal.”
Bilbo's eyes widened in horror as he gaped up at the dwarf, “I – I didn't mean...” he stuttered, trailing off as he watched Bofur's face twist with humour. Bilbo gave a small huff of annoyance, grabbed a small pillow from the bed and threw it right into the dwarf's laughing face.
Bofur grinned as his chuckling eased, “I may have exaggerated.” Another layer dropped to the floor, “but only slightly.” his eyes took on a serious glint as his fingers continued to undo clasps and ties, “but you are a hobbit and I am smart enough ta know that ye don't mean to propose courtship.”
“Well now I wouldn't...” Bilbo stopped mid sentence as Bofur's thin under shirt slipped to the floor. Bilbo licked his lips and watched hungrily as the dwarf bent forward to untie his boots and slip them off of his small and hairless feet. Bilbo smiled with amusement. To have such a heavily furred chest with so little hair on the foot would have been quite odd on a hobbit. His eyes travelled back upwards as Bofur kicked off the loose trousers he wore and stood before Bilbo in just a thin pair of leggings.
Bilbo scooted nearer to reach for the leather strings tying the front of the leggings closed. He eyed the arc of Bofur's erection tenting the front of the cotton before tugging at the leather knot. It gave way easily; the leggings slid down the dwarf's legs with little resistance, their slight weight and the pull of the earth doing the work for Bilbo as he sat back and gazed at the completely bare dwarf. The difference between their body shapes was startling. Though they were of similar stature, Bofur's body was broader and thicker everywhere but his feet, which seemed too small to the hobbit. Bilbo stared unabashedly at the thick cock that hung heavy between the dwarf's muscular thighs.
More. There was just more. More hair. More muscles. More.
He tore his gaze away when he heard Bofur clear his throat pointedly. Bofur raised a brow, “Yer overdressed.”
Bilbo flushed, scrambling to remove his clothing, glad that he did not wear as many layers as the dwarves did, for it only took him a short moment to strip to nothing and lay naked before Bofur's bright eyes. He shivered at the hungry expression on Bofur's face as the dwarf crawled onto the bed, his unbraided hair hanging wild around his face.
Bofur looked nothing like the hobbit lads Bilbo had laid with in his youth. He had an entirely different way about him. He looked rough and wild.
Oh, Bilbo was going to enjoy this very much.
Bofur lowered himself easily over the hobbit, lips catching as he let his weight settle, pressing Bilbo into the plush mattress. Bilbo squirmed at the sensation of thick hair scratching at his sensitive prick as he thrust eagerly against the dwarf's stomach. He grabbed at Bofur's hair as Bofur moved away from his mouth to kiss and bite at his throat.
Biting. That was new to Bilbo. The sting of it left his cock throbbing.
Bofur continued his way downward, stomach sliding down Bilbo's thighs, chest hair rubbing against his red cock and catching at the tight copper curls at the base. He trailed his tongue through the sparse hair across Bilbo's chest, sucking sharply at the pink nipples as he came to them.
Bilbo gasped sharply at the sensation of Bofur's wiry moustaches brushing against his flushed chest, his hips giving an involuntary thrust against the dwarf once more. Bilbo tugged at the hair in his hands until Bofur moved to meet him face to face. Bilbo promptly pulled their mouths back together. He slid his hands down to Bofur's shoulders as he continued thrusting upwards. He whined when their height difference meant he was still only rubbing at Bofur's stomach.
Bilbo moved his hands to Bofur's underarms and pushed him away towards the headboard so their erections dragged against each other. Bilbo grinned in triumph when he heard a low groan resounding through the thick chest above him. He leant his head back as far as he could to see that Bofur had laid his forearms on the mattress, just inches away from the top of Bilbo's head. Bilbo gave another thrust and watched Bofur's mouth fall open with a gasp. And another, which Bofur met enthusiastically, “By my beard, Bilbo.” he groaned.
Bilbo gasped, “Oh, keep talking.”
Bofur paused, then grabbed Bilbo's legs and encouraged him to wrap them around his waist. He then pulled himself and the hobbit upright so that Bilbo was seated astride his lap with Bofur's legs crossed beneath Bilbo's rear.
Bofur laughed breathlessly against Bilbo's neck then pressed a kiss to the tip of his right ear, “So you want to hear mah voice do ye?” Bilbo nodded frantically. He squirmed as Bofur grabbed at both of their cocks, holding both together as he stroked upwards and spoke, “Oh mister Bilbo, ye can't imagine all the things I'd do to you if we had more time.” He rubbed his thumb against the head of Bilbo's prick, smearing a bead of pre-come along the underside, “I'd give ye the proper dwarf experience.” he paused to slide his tongue along the shell of Bilbo's ear, “We dwarves are particularly proud of our great stamina.”
Bilbo tugged at the handfuls of hair in his fists and whimpered as Bofur continued whispering into his ear, “I'd prepare an' tease you till ye were beggin' fer more,” Bilbo groaned, at the words, but more at the way Bofur's voice shook when he stroked upwards and the way his accent was growing thicker as they continued, “and then I'd pound into ya till ye'd come twice over.” Bofur gave a grunt, tugging faster with a sigh, “Ye'd look so beautiful like tha'.” He pressed another kiss to the hobbit's ear and then Bilbo was coming with a cry of the dwarf's name.
He slumped against Bofur's chest as the dwarf continued to stroke himself with his wet hand. Bilbo sighed when he felt the rush of wet heat against his thighs and stomach when Bofur came with a moan.
When he had caught his breath Bofur leant back and rolled to rest his head against Bilbo's pillow while keeping Bilbo sprawled against his chest.
Bilbo grimaced at the sticky mess between them. He ignored protest as he raised himself to crawl towards the bedside to reach into his night-stand and retrieve a handkerchief. He quickly wiped away the mess that was on his own body and moved back to the centre of the bed where Bofur lay smiling drowsily.
Bilbo paused to consider Bofur's stomach, “That's really quite an impressive mess.”
Bofur burst out laughing for quite a few moments before calming down with a grin and a simple, “Thanks.”
Bilbo frowned, vaguely puzzled by the response, and wiped at the mess haphazardly before returning to his resting place atop the dwarf. He sighed happily when a thick arm wrapped around his back and a warm hand gripped his shoulder.
Bilbo's eyes slipped shut wearily as Bofur's thumb dragged slowly across his skin.
“I should get back t' the others.” Bofur mumbled.
“Stay.” Bilbo huffed. His resting place shifted beneath him till he felt the throw blanket from the end of his bed slide over him. He turned his face into Bofur's warm neck and drifted to sleep.
III
Bilbo woke to the chirping of birds and the silence of an empty bed and smial. Relief fought with regret when Bilbo found his home to be truly empty.
That was that then. No more reason to fret over a silly thing like an adventure.
He paused when he passed a mirror in the hall, the glass reflecting a dark bruise at his neck where Bofur had bitten him. Bilbo startled at the vividness of the mark, regret pushing to the forefront of his mind as he examined himself in the mirror.
His eyes fell to the discarded contract on his tea table.
And the next thing he knew Bilbo was hurtling out the door with his heart in his throat and a grin on his face.