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dwarven festive attire consisted of a thick linen undershirt and pants, a wool tunic and a warm coat. aside from that, one would wear light armor if they had it, typically a chain mail under the tunic or a breastplate over - shoulder plates on the very top, sometimes, though not very commonly. usually the piece chosen was one that saw their greatest battle, would they be a warrior, or the piece crafted with most finesse. the whole thing could be adapted to the weather, of course, but there was rarely need for it in the mountains, and especially when most celebrations were held in the colder months. additionally, they'd carry their most serviced or best crafted weapon. it was a symbol of status.
like all their clothing, it was made for wear and tear, made to last. even if the finery was never worn outside of hearth-warmed, warmly lit dining halls, it needed to be durable; whoever has been to even one dwarven feast would know exactly why.
the set Bilbo was gifted fell nothing short of extravagant. the shirt had runes embroidered around the hem that he didn't know the meaning nor the sound of, sewn in thick, cream-colored thread that barely contrasted from the white of the linen. the pants were perfectly fitted for his height, though not without being stabbed in the calves with sewing pins one too many times during the fitting. he had no armor, but the Mithril shirt did well beneath his wide-sleeved tunic. and the coat - it was crafted with care from the finest wool and fur, dyed a royal indigo that matched Thorin's own.
it was beautiful, the most beautiful items of clothing he owned, perhaps, aside maybe from a flower-embroidered vest he left in the Shire and was, regrettably, robbed off, and it was made patiently with consideration of every single one of his petty complaints and comments.
he let the coat rest heavy on his shoulders and fastened a thick belt around his waist, head hung low while worked the large buckle. his reflection stood before him in a tall mirror, looking every part the king consort despite the nervous shift of his feet. not that he had the title or knew fully well what it would entail, but rumors echoed in the vast halls of Erebor. the dwarves whispered, sometimes with a passion that could almost rival one of the hobbits.
just as he was experiencing an unfortunate lack of gossip, he found himself the main subject of one in particular - and it wasn't like he was never gossiped about before, but never in such a way.
Bilbo felt the steel gaze on his back before he met it. looking up at his reflection, brows knit slightly in concentration, the hobbit barely had the time to look over himself - dressed to the nines, shoulders looking broader than usual with the thick layers of fabrics he was wrapped in, steel rings shining around half the fingers of his hands - before his eyes found Thorin's in the tall mirror.
"what?" Bilbo smiled softly.
it made something warm settle in his stomach, like a cup of hot tea on a chill evening, the way Thorin looked at him. he should have been used to it, perhaps; those eyes had followed him a long time; longer, maybe, than he was aware of it. Thorin liked to stare. mostly when he had the time, almost as a pastime, and then when he didn't if his duties got too much in the way.
during dinner, when the others spun tales and sang songs after one cup of ale too many, there he was, head turned stubbornly to the right where the hobbit always sat, the corners of his mouth quirked up in a gentle smile, only turning if something was asked of him, and only for a few seconds at a time.
when he brought gifts, and he did a lot. Bilbo didn't understand at first, assumed that the king only meant to be friendly, until Dwalin took some mercy on the oblivious hobbit and explained in short, soldierly terms that the many offerings were meant as courting. back in the Shire, one didn't simply begin courting until they officially declared themself in front of the receiving party, so Bilbo couldn't be blamed for not getting it at first, really.
he had his hopes, though, of course he did, and maybe he was even thinking of declaring himself first once Erebor was properly rebuilt; it was hard to imagine, at the time, how they'd find the time for the whole ordeal in-between daily meetings and negotiations with the other dwarf clans and all the maintenance the halls, forges, kitchens and chambers needed. but he couldn't say no once the process was already in motion, could he? and even if he could, he wouldn't want to. so ever so often Bilbo sat there, inspecting necklaces and silks and jewels and rings and even plain, old rocks, while Thorin inspected him for reaction. he always made sure to look appropriately delighted, even when he didn't quite understand what use he'd have for a diamond as large as his fist or an odd-shaped chunk of basalt. those were nothing like the practical gifts hobbits exchanged - baked goods and knitted clothes, mostly, like the long scarf he nervously presented Thorin with one evening.
the king stared in the middle of those drawn-out council sessions, too, when they received word from the Iron Hills or Lake Town or even the elves. while Balin read aloud the long lists of demands other kingdoms made for trade, Thorin would let his eyes wander to Bilbo, just for a bit - and when the hobbit would finally feel his gaze, they'd smile silently at one another. sometimes one of their hands found it's partner under the table and squeezed tightly. the others knew; they could tell from their smiles widening and if not that, then the twitch of Bilbo's ears. they never minded; it was all between friends, brothers in arms, family. they never let it distract them much when it mattered, but there was a common contentment in seeing Thorin so at peace shared between the company.
it had been long enough since a smitten king was the biggest of their problems.
"what is it?" Bilbo repeated, adjusting his coat. he was used to much lighter clothing, nothing he could feel so profoundly as it was draped over his back.
"you look…" Thorin sighed and shook his head. he had been sat on the bed the entire time and Bilbo didn't even have a good reason to dismiss him; simply saying that he felt a tad vulnerable as he tried his finery on wouldn't be reason enough. "you look like you were meant to wear my colors."
"oh, hush, I look silly," Bilbo mustered a half-smile as Thorin rose to his feet and strode across the room to wrap his arms tightly around him from behind.
"silly? but never in my life, my heart," he put his chin on the top of Bilbo's head and his hands on his waist, humming in consideration and squeezing lightly.
Bilbo sighed, eyeing himself with scrutiny. nothing was wrong, per se, but. there was always a but, an awful lot of buts. despite being carefully fitted, the clothes felt too large on him, especially the coat. it was meant to be a little loose, to accommodate the thick layers underneath, but he felt like he was being smothered with the weight of it. the fur tickled his jaw every time he turned his head, the rings on his fingers were rather chunky and his hands felt clammy when he wore them after a longer break. taking in the whole image, he felt like maybe it would be better if he wore boots like the dwarves did, but he never did once in his life and he wasn't going to start now.
he was still a hobbit, damn it, and that was precisely the root of the problem.
all the dwarves looked natural wearing their finery. dressed up, festive, handsome. Bilbo looked, in his own eyes, like a child playing dress-up.
"I'm… not so sure about this. not that I do not appreciate the gift," he hurried to clarify, "but is this… necessary?" a rhetorical question. "can't I go as myself?"
Thorin's expression soured ever so slightly in the mirror.
"as yourself," the dwarf repeated. "as opposed to what, exactly?"
to that, Bilbo did not have an answer that wouldn't sound absolutely terrible.
there was a feast coming up, a big one to celebrate the Blue Mountains dwarves returning to Erebor - Thorin's sister and a brood of distant relatives among them. it was still a good week before they'd arrive, but preparations were in full motion already. Bilbo would know how much work everybody was putting into them - he was on the frontlines of the planning more days than not. and he knew, of course, how important it was that everything would go without issues.
their numbers were still small, and not only due to the long way the dwarves would have to go from different parts of Middle Earth. despite the war won and the restorations going well, people were doubtful. many of the residential wings were still buried under heavy rubble, many forges far from fit for use. craftsmen were asked to abandon their professions, only for the time being, to help the miners and builders. trade with the elves and men was still only being established, and despite Bilbo's best efforts introducing proper agriculture was no easy feat, either, not even with the king's earnest blessing.
even with with their victory still fresh in everybody's minds, keeping the general morale high was on the top of the list of priorities; dwarves were as short-tempered and stubborn as they were loyal. would they abandon Erebor? no, of course not, but the restoration would go much better if they weren't so busy complaining and arguing among themselves.
welcoming the rest of the royal family with proper fanfare seemed to be the perfect thing to sweeten the general mood.
Bilbo bit his lip, scrunched his nose and smacked his lips, looking for something to say - and he came up with nothing.
"I just…" he tried, anyway. he always had trouble biting his tongue when he felt like he should. "would it be… is it… right, for me, to… I'm just wondering, if everybody will take well to me appearing in your… cultural attire," he finally managed to choke out. it would have been simpler, perhaps, if Thorin wasn't watching him so intensely in the mirror, breathing down his neck. he did that thing where he rattled the usually well-articulated hobbit with a look alone. unfairly annoying.
"so that's what this is about, is it?" Thorin rumbled warmly. "and how else do you suppose you should dress, if you are going with me to meet my family?"
for half a second there Bilbo was about to suggest he could show up looking more hobbitish, before he remembered, not without a sour feeling, that all the best clothes he left in the Shire were not there anymore when he visited to take back some of his more prized possessions and nobody would tell him who took them. vultures, the lot of them.
"I look stupid," he insisted, though the loving touch of Thorin's hands on his sides made the protest sound half-hearted.
"you look beautiful," the dwarf's gaze sharpened as he took him in for the last time before he ducked his head to slot his nose and mouth into the crook of Bilbo's neck, inhaling deeply. the hobbit had, in all sincerity, half a mind to chastise him for trying to distract him, but wasn't it his own fault for getting sidetracked when his lover didn't actually do anything. he was just there. a very, very irritating man he was.
"I'm just… thinking," Bilbo continued, kind of hating how the brush of Thorin's bristly beard against the side of his neck made his breath catch slightly.
"aye, you do that a lot," Thorin's smirk could be heard more than seen.
"Thorin, I'm serious. it's this whole big thing, the feast, meeting your family. don't you ever worry they'll disapprove of me?"
"no," he replied simply before pressing his lips tight beneath Bilbo's ear. "Dís will love you, and all my cousins will love you, just like everybody does."
it really was this easy to him, wasn't it? Thorin never experienced judgment like Bilbo has - he was a prince, then he was a king. he had loyal dwarves ready to follow him into the most inane mission, he had family that stood behind him through just about anything. the hobbit doubted he was ever whispered about as strange or a misfit or unpleasant; as much as he could be the last thing, all of the dwarves were, so why would anybody pay mind? and Bilbo - he was all those things. Mad Baggins. half a Took, that alone made some heads turn in the Shire, and not in a good way. the one who couldn't keep quiet when it counted, the one they liked to regard as unsociable, unneighborly, even, which was just about one of the worst things a hobbit could be. no one ever said it to his face, hobbits weren't of the sort to, but those things could be felt.
it was a good sign, maybe, that living among the very direct, very brash dwarves he hardly heard comments like that. if they didn't like him, they'd tell him, especially the ones that came from the Iron Hills that didn't have sentimental reason to be at least a little more polite towards him. but, despite the circulating rumor of him soon becoming Thorin's intended and, later, the consort, the truth was they rarely saw him play the part. to them, he was most often a scribe, keeping the ledgers and noting the new arrivals. hardly a part of the royal family, no more than the other members of the Company were if they sat in the council. less, perhaps, since he wasn't fit to mine or clear out rubble or work in the forges and chose to help in the kitchens or with the children, instead.
of course the Erebor dwarves liked him when he was as helpful to them as he could every day, and of course the Company were dear friends to him, and of course Thorin adored him. but was it too far fetched for him to have his doubts, given what he's grown used to over the years? it's not so simple to teach an old dog new tricks, and even more difficult to pull the worry of meeting social expectations out of a self-respecting hobbit.
"you're thinking too loud," Thorin cut into the oh-so-typical line of anxiety and self-deprecation. "I can hear the gears grinding in your head, ghivashel."
and once again, Bilbo wanted, from the bottom of his heart, to get annoyed. he would, if it wasn't for the feeling of a tender mouth closing around a patch of skin, sucking on a tendon.
"Thorin, stop," he sighed without conviction, and despite his words, he tilted his head to the side, bearing his throat beautifully. curse him for that weakness he had for it. "we've a council meeting in the morning, remember? I cannot possibly show with… with my neck bruised…"
the dwarf laughed, low and rumbling, only pressing closer. "why can't you?" he murmured. "they all know you are mine already."
"it's… that wouldn't be proper," the hobbit sighed again.
"is it also not proper of you to wear my colors? my ring? my braid in your hair?" Thorin countered; his lips traveled up to the sharp point of Bilbo's ear and he sucked it gently into his mouth, eliciting a lovely moan.
"it's not the same, you know it, you awful tease," the hobbit's back leaned fully into his chest. "they don't need to know… what we get up to…"
"I think they know," the king continued, "that I make love to my treasure. how is it wrong that I show off what's mine?"
"it's-"
"don't mention anything about it being improper that we have sex," Thorin cut in.
"it's…" Bilbo tried again, but no further arguments came to him, other that intimacy should be kept a polite half-secret. and even if he tried to come up with something else, he couldn't, because Thorin's hands have left his waist and slid down to his hips, one gripping the bone and the other kneading his ass. he moaned; he couldn't not when one of his lover's hands was large enough to grip one whole cheek, and roughly.
"what would it say of the king… if he could not even show his One how he adores him?"
but of course. dwarves waited to have their first, it was the custom - something about a One, a sort of soulmate, nothing that Bilbo knew from his culture. hobbits, on the other hand, were much more promiscuous but at the same time much more secretive about it.
"you're gorgeous with my marks on you," he continued, "and you're gorgeous dressed like you belong with me. I don't know if you heard, but they say I intend to make you consort."
the way Thorin said it, the smile Bilbo could feel against his ear, it made it abundantly clear that it wasn't only a rumor.
"consort?" Bilbo tried to sound teasing, even as he all but melted into Thorin's strong, sure embrace. "and here I thought it was only a rumor. shouldn't I have known before everybody else?"
"perhaps I fell short on making it in time to propose. but you have to understand," the king smiled, "that my schedule is awfully packed, and I would never have my proposal gift be sloppily crafted."
"and should I even know that there is one being made?" Bilbo retorted smugly.
"you're too clever to keep anything from you, anyway. but I wouldn't tell you that I indent to have it finished for the feast," Thorin pulled away just to grin. "that you should absolutely not be made aware of."
"ah, of course. I will not be expecting it," Bilbo nodded solemnly.
he appreciated it, being told ahead of time. he'd have accepted it, of course, even if he didn't know. he'd have accepted at any moment of any day; the courting had gone on a bit too long for his liking, anyway.
dwarves tended to move terribly slow with those things, drawing it out beyond reason - there was a time he thought it was just Thorin, in their particular circumstances, but finding a few helpful books and asking some friendly opinions proved that it was the usual custom to take one's time. in truth, he and Thorin moved faster than it was expected, having slept together quite a few times now despite not yet being officially engaged.
but it was better like this, to be able to prepare. a more hobbitish way, really. it varied from family to family, but in most common understanding, the intention to marry was to be expressed in private first and only then in public, after it was already accepted. he didn't suspect that Thorin wanted to stick to his tradition on purpose - how would he even find out about it if Bilbo never mentioned it? - but it put him at ease all the same.
"I don't think anybody will be surprised, though," Thorin hummed. he kissed down Bilbo's neck again, slow and wet, fingers twitching with effort to stay in place where they squeezed his hips.
"no, they won't be. not with this awful tendency you have to mark me."
he said awful, but he found one of his hands tangled in the king's hair, almost on its own accord, keeping his mouth close to his throat, the other wrapped around thicker, calloused fingers, his hips pushing back relentlessly until a beautiful sigh sounded in his ear once more. "jealous thing. you really are terrible. as if you are constantly expecting somebody to steal me away if I don't look like we just had a tumble at all times. you may rest at peace. I only have eyes for you," Bilbo grinned, leaning fully into Thorin's chest.
it was lovely, so very lovely when the dwarf nipped at his ears just so and let out the most unbecoming little sounds, like he was the one being lavished in attention. sweet thing, so attentive.
his hands tightened their grip on Bilbo's sides as he buried deeper into his skin and closed his eyes.
"amrâlimê," Thorin breathed when Bilbo's arse rubbed against his crotch; even through layers of clothing he could feel that the dwarf was half-hard and stirring. "can you…" a thick swallow. "look at yourself. for me."
"I'm looking, honey," the hobbit hummed. he ground his hips back again, watching Thorin burrow deeper into his neck in their reflection.
truly, he was adorable, absurdly easy to fluster. a king and a warrior and a prude in his own right. it was easy to forget, but Thorin was actually quite young - by dwarf standards, anyway.
"good… good. keep at it, aye?"
a pair of calloused hands pawed half-blindly on the large belt on his waist, fumbling slightly before they managed to get the buckle undone and let the thing fall to the floor with a faint metallic sound. Thorin didn't bother with any other of Bilbo's clothes, partly because peeling his coat or tunic away would mean having to tear himself off his back, which, in turn, would mean turning his face away from the hobbit's neck and looking, too, and he really could not in the moment.
Thorin was, for all intents and purposes, a gentle, sweet lover. he preferred things to be simple - Bilbo on his back, occasionally riding, a lot of kissing but few eye contact; it threw him off his rhythm. the same dwarf that could command an army, and he proved time and time again to be one of the most vanilla lovers Bilbo has ever had - not that it was a bad thing. it was very Thorin, went along perfectly with his heart of gold, his warm, cradling palms and the way he's never had another. Bilbo would have thought that his whole marking thing was the one kink he let show, if it wasn't for the discovery that wearing proof of their intimacy was a very normal thing for dwarves, barely worth mentioning.
the hobbit could tell now, though, that his lover was attempting something new, which in and of itself was as exciting as it was lovely. Thorin didn't really take initiative like that, at least not when it came to introducing things in the bedroom.
"I'm looking," Bilbo said once more, breath hitching when one of those darling hands slid, slowly, to the fastening of his pants. "and I won't look away, I promise."
he had to admit, he never thought of doing that. he had a thing for how much bigger Thorin was than him, some inclination for getting a little roughed up. a rather peculiar taste for how little experience the dwarf had and being able to order him around just a bit when they were like that - some kind of sweet revenge for the unpleasant first impression Thorin left, perhaps. he liked it an unfair lot when one time his intended let him tie his hands behind his head and ride him silly and planned, secretly, to maybe introduce Thorin to the idea of being woken up by a mouth around his cock.
but he never entertained the idea of doing it in front of a mirror.
made it all the more exciting to watch Thorin undo his trousers only just-so to take out his swelling cock.
Bilbo noted, with some amusement, that the dwarf only managed to crack one eye open as he gave him a few slow strokes, following the movement of his own hand.
and that's when the other part of why his lover didn't undress him came into play.
"look at you," Thorin rumbled, still muffled by how his mouth was pressed to Bilbo's neck; the hobbit wasn't going to complain about the scrape of his beard against that sensitive spot. "you look so… so handsome, don't you? so… so good in my colors."
and Bilbo had to give it to him that he was rightly distracting. for a second there, he might have as well forgotten entirely that he was feeling so self conscious about his appearance on that feast.
damnable dwarf, how did he dare to pull a self-respecting hobbit from his rather appropriate worrying? didn't he know that it was a crucial part of preparing for any kind of public gathering, to stress oneself out a little? the nerve on that one, truly.
if he wasn't so turned on, maybe he'd have some inclination to scold Thorin for it just a bit, as a matter of principle more than anything.
"just seeing you like this… mm," Thorin cut himself off, both his eyes squeezed shut again, breathing coming out in labored puffs against Bilbo's nape, and suddenly above all Bilbo wanted to reward him for doing this for him.
"so that's what it's all about, isn't it?" the hobbit's words sounded a touch breathy when he rubbed himself on the dwarf's clothed dick. "that's a rather peculiar way around complimenting me, you know."
"you don't like it?" Thorin's hand stilled on his hardening cock, making Bilbo groan in frustration.
"I never said that," he shook his head a bit too quickly. "keep going. you are… lovely, sweetheart."
Thorin started to move his hand again, dropping his head to Bilbo's shoulder. he didn't dare watch; it was the hobbit's job, now. and did he watch, gods. he had his eyes fixed on their reflection, darting once ever so often from Thorin's flush cheek, barely visible from under his hair, to his own cock as it twitched to full attention.
he couldn't recall ever watching himself, not even without a mirror. when he touched himself, he liked to keep his eyes closed; it helped him focus better on whatever it was he wanted to imagine. back in the Shire, he'd occasionally have a lewd book or another in the other hand and focus on that, but it felt too awkward to borrow or buy one from Ori and no other scribes or booksellers have settled in yet; there were more important things to tend to than bookbinding or setting up a decent library. not that dwarves had much appreciation for a good novel, anyway. and when the two of them had sex, he kept his eyes on Thorin - wasn't that the obvious thing to do?
he never imagined he was, actually, kind of sexy. he was told that he was, but he didn't think much of it until now. but he was, objectively speaking. he looked good when he felt good - dark eyes glinting under heavy lashes, hair always falling into disarray too quickly, especially that he'd been keeping it longer, thin lips plumping when he worried them with his teeth. and lower, too, he was a decent size for a hobbit - not big, exactly, he's certainly seen bigger, but he had nothing to be embarrassed of - and what he didn't have in size he compensated in sheer enthusiasm, anyway.
he liked watching himself, he decided, the steady rise and fall of his chest, how his expression changed, how Thorin's hand made his cock look much smaller than it was. but the cherry on top was the way his lover looked - one eye occasionally stealing a glance as he hid in the crook of his neck, red-faced.
"you're doing… so good, sweetheart," the hobbit praised, hips stuttering between fucking into his intended's fist and rubbing his backside on Thorin's crotch. the dwarf groaned; Bilbo wasn't sure if it was because of the friction, his words or how filthy something like this must have felt to him. such a good job he did, and Bilbo was going to let his dwarf know. "feels… ah, it's amazing. your hands are… always so amazing, love, so… mh!"
he ground back, suddenly, flinching away from a sudden burst of powerful sensation when Thorin's calloused thumb rubbed against the slit of his cock in a tight circle, and the king bit into the side of his neck to muffle a rough noise. in a blink, the hobbit was thrusting forward again, fighting the urge to throw his head back and close his eyes as he suddenly spilled.
he heaved, his gaze intense as he looked into the mirror, not ripping it away from his cock for a second. it jumped in Thorin's hand, cum spurting in short spasms, and it was a wonder it didn't soil his finery.
it wasn't anything bad that he finished so soon; it was quite a normal thing for hobbits, to go multiple times; how else would they have as many children as they usually did? he rarely met a couple that had or at least planned less than five little ones. it was only that he didn't expect the first one so quickly, but then again, watching himself did more for him than he'd expect.
they breathed heavily, the both of them, and only then did Thorin finally look at Bilbo fully.
"should we move to bed?" the dwarf managed a slightly awkward and sweetly excited smile.
"I- yes."
in a second, he was hoisted up by a pair of tree trunk arms, a beard tickling his chin as Thorin crashed their lips together and carried him to bed. sometime along, the dwarf managed to wipe his hand on his own clothes; a habit Bilbo didn't necessarily approve of but learned to accept, especially in the midst of lovemaking or when he was sleepy right after.
"you really have no need to worry, you know. the dwarves do not really care much for what you look like, though you do look… wonderful," Thorin breathed, grinning with self-satisfaction and just a bit of relief as he leaned down to undo Bilbo's pants fully. "they never cared for how I look."
"hardly a surprise, you are the most handsome one I have ever seen," the hobbit smiled at him. it barely bothered him that they were back on the subject now that his body was thrumming with need once more as his lover had him on their bed, working on his clothes.
"am I? most would say I am rather ugly."
Thorin didn't sound particularly disheartened by his own statement, if only a little reluctant to admit it, like an embarrassing secret.
"ugly?" Bilbo, on the other hand, sounded positively scandalized. "in what world?"
the hobbit always thought Thorin was extremely handsome, even back when he could hardly stand him. piercing blue eyes, a strong jawline, a presence that, while ridiculously brooding at times, commanded respect. if that attraction was part of the reason he left Bag End in the first place, that was his business entirely.
but when they had sex, the king was a different kind of good looking entirely. he flushed all too easily and down to the middle of his hairy chest. his gaze softened, then almost blurred when he was on the brink, sometimes glassing over with unshed tears, sometimes closing tightly like he couldn't stand to look at the risk of getting too overwhelmed. his hair always got on the best side of a little too wild after a while of having it tugged at and that might have been the finishing touch. it made him look so perfect in Bilbo's eyes that he almost felt a touch regretful that nobody would ever see his dwarf like that; forgive him for entertaining the hypothetical, if only in his most private fantasies, of getting to show off a little.
maybe, he thought, he deserved his royal finery a little more for being able to make the king himself look like that.
"too tall, too skinny. my beard never grows long enough, though my nose certainly had. silly things, really. the youths bother with them more," the dwarf shrugged lightly.
suddenly, all that Thorin said about Bilbo not needing to worry about his looks rang all the more true, and just as abruptly the hobbit wished it didn't. it obviously didn't bother Thorin now, but it must have sometime in the past, even if distant and only for a short while, and that he would not accept that if he could help it.
"well," in an instant, Bilbo's hands were on Thorin's cheeks and pulling him closer. "I happen to quite like your beard, and your nose, and your frame. though you could stand to not be so tall," he chuckled. "makes it awfully hard to kiss you when I want to."
"I don't know," the dwarf purred, "I like that I can look down on you. and would you make for such a good thief were you closer to my height, master burglar?"
"maybe you lot wouldn't need for a burglar, have you not sprouted so ridiculously high?"
"we would have not met then, though, would we?"
they both smiled when their lips crashed together again, Thorin's deft hands making short work of the remaining fastenings of Bilbo's pants as his tongue pushed greedily into his mouth. Bilbo moaned, wanton and loud, feeling a warm palm sneak down this front again.
"wait," the hobbit whispered. "take it off me, I- it's new, I don't want to mess it up."
"we do have washers for that, you realize," Thorin rolled his eyes, but he dutifully hooked his fingers in the waistband of his slacks as he himself thought to shrug his coat off; all too late, honestly, with how hot he's been getting in the damned thing.
"I'd rather not need to have them see my clothes in such a state."
"you're too bashful."
"oh, says you. hurry up, or I'll think you don't like to see me naked."
they didn't speak for a while after that, though they were hardly silent. Bilbo stripped quickly, taking care to at least not drop his new festive clothes to the floor, tossing them to the edge of the bed instead; it was big enough for a pile of fabrics, a dwarf and a hobbit, and a bunch of space still remained. Thorin kissed him into the thick layers of furs covering the stone bed, large hands slid down his sides to knead at the soft give of his hips. it made him whine, the way they squeezed him with just a touch too much strength and the low growl that rose in the dwarf's throat when he sucked on his tongue.
he felt much better now, without the heavy wool and fur weighing down on his back, though a little chilly; it was always just a touch cold in Erebor, even with the firepits going in every room, the torches lining the halls and the candles lit in living quarters. but Thorin ran so hot, as if there was truly a little forge of his own in his chest.
Bilbo had no issue taking the king's shirt off, only having to push it up to the middle of that hard stomach he so loved to wrap his arms around before the dwarf caught up and pulled it over his head himself, but the pants were a more difficult task, with the intricate buckle of his belt. the hobbit would have been better at it, surely, could he at least have a look at what he was doing, but his lover's lips were pressed tight against his own, barely leaving for long enough that he could get a single sound out once every while, only pulling away to draw breath or angle himself better.
a good kisser, that one - maybe because he never had anyone before Bilbo and the hobbit could teach him all his favorite tricks with no old habits getting in the way. the way to breathe through his nose so that they wouldn't need to break apart too often, the right amount of tongue to use, the way he liked to be bitten until his lips looked red and plump.
"off," Bilbo gasped, barely sneaking the single word in. "off with your pants. please."
"you need to ask for nothing, love."
the words were entirely too sweet for the image that met the hobbit's eyes when his lover did pull his pants off along with his smalls. he didn't know if it was a standard for most dwarves - he didn't wish to know - but Thorin's cock still made his mouth run dry. longer than his own and all of his previous lovers', though not so long that he wouldn't be able to take it. almost scarily thick, with a fat head that flushed a furious red when he was denied his release too long - a color Bilbo was intimately familiar with, though it was nowhere close to it now, barely half-hard.
"ugly," Bilbo scoffed once he had Thorin really, truly naked on top of him. "it must be a particularly nasty type of blindness, not to see the beauty that you are."
"and you, to regard you as nothing else but a wonder on my arm… that'd be a true travesty."
Bilbo blushed. he's heard more compliments in the past months than he had his entire life, but they still disarmed him, sometimes. for all his awful temper and atrocious manners, Thorin was a romantic at heart, and a hopeless one at that. quite the poet, too, if he wanted to be.
peace made him gentler, softened him just so at the edges. Bilbo only wished sometimes that it would extend to his diplomacy.
"we can make for quite a dashing couple on that feast, if you need to have it your way."
"and what if I do? I am the king. what I say goes," Thorin grinned.
he didn't let Bilbo have another word in.
he moved down, kissing his way from the hobbit's clavicle to the center of his chest, to the rounded swell of his belly, to the insides of both soft thighs before finally dipping between them. a broad, clever tongue swiped over his rim, just once, before he sucked lewdly on Bilbo's entrance. the hobbit's chest rose and fell with a heavy, relaxed sigh.
"mm… oh, there you are," Thorin hummed against his skin, not bearing to pull away even for a second. "can I just stay like this?"
Bilbo chuckled. the same question, almost every time. and maybe he'd let him, too, if he didn't want to go to sleep sometime the same night.
both his hands buried in the dwarf's hair, pushing the long strands out of the way, gripping in fistfuls. he didn't pull, didn't even try to guide. he simply let himself sink into the furs and his eyes fall closed. Thorin worked his tongue leisurely, circling the entrance, then slowly trying to dip in. a few minutes, the slightest tug, and he loosened his grip on one of Bilbo's thighs. a thick finger pushed against the hobbit's rim, prompting him to breathe just a bit deeper and relax. he's been doing a good job of that, relaxing.
he was very tempted to let Thorin just stay there, actually. it would have been so nice after the day he had, with all the preparations and the running around and some of the questions he got, because honestly, what did he know about the kind of tablecloth that should be laid out on the tables for the feast or what songs should the band play? he was the master of trade and agriculture, not a party planner. it would be so very nice to lie back and let his intended service him for the rest of the night-
but no, no. they had responsibilities come morning, an awful lot of them, and they needed to go to sleep at a reasonable hour.
"not this time, love," Bilbo shook his head.
Thorin grumbled something against his skin and he laughed around a moan.
"what's that? do you not want to fuck me?" the hobbit hummed sweetly and Thorin responded only with another groan.
got him.
that finger finally slid in along with with the tip of the dwarf's tongue and Bilbo let out the most beautiful noise.
Thorin had such nice fingers, almost twice as thick as Bilbo's own and much longer, clever and rough alike from years of manual labor. one of his hands was large enough to span Bilbo's entire hip, three digits about as girthy as the hobbit's own cock. he got lucky, in that regard, and in many others.
"that's it, sweetie," Bilbo urged as that finger curled perfectly against his walls. "that's right. such a lovely thing you are," he barely stopped his voice from cracking, but Thorin was no better. he nuzzled into the plump inside of his lover's thigh, bristly beard dragging against it just short of burning. he blushed furiously, the amazing way he did down to his heart.
he moved his finger in slow, long pulls until he decided that it went easily enough to add a second one. he pulled back to take a pause and let spit dribble down on Bilbo's hole, watching with darkened eyes before he plunged back in - two fingers pushing in torturously slow.
"Thorin," Bilbo complained, hips stuttering against the unyielding grip the dwarf had on one of his sides. he wasn't sure how much time has passed between when he tried on his finery and when he was stripped of it and laid bare on their bed, but it felt like too much. "love?"
he tried to say more, but he was stopped with a treacherous moan when the dwarf's tongue reached his balls. he licked, then he sucked and he hummed low before pulling off with an almost boyish grin.
"you were saying?"
it took a considerable effort for Bilbo to hoist himself up onto his elbows. he intended so very much to show some kind of annoyance; maybe he would have if he loved Thorin a quarter of what he did. the only look he could muster to give his betrothed was one of utter fondness.
"if you could be a darling and hurry up," the hobbit uttered, breath hitching slightly with every move of the dwarf's fingers.
"almost there," Thorin promised. "I would, ghivashel," such a blatant lie, he never hurried, even when it was crucial to. never until Bilbo urged him. why would he now when they still had the whole night to enjoy? some lost sleep was nothing on his dedication. "but I don't want to hurt you."
there was a tenderness under the admission, too sweet for Bilbo not to latch onto when he felt so impatient. Valar forgive him for his cruelty, the man and his need.
"what if I like a bit of a burn?" he winked. it felt a particular sort of remorseless to watch Thorin's ears redden with equal parts embarrassment and interest. poor thing, caught so easily off guard every single time. as if the novelty of both having sex at all and having it with somebody more experienced never, ever wore off.
silently, Bilbo added some spanking and scratching to the list of things he needed to introduce to their bedchambers. just to drive the point of perhaps being compelled to experiment with some pain home. he was, after all, much sturdier than he looked - a point that the king would advocate for fiercely in front of some of the less accepting lords and forget the second he had the hobbit's naked form in his grasp.
or maybe the words alone worked, though he wasn't letting the idea go too easily. he was still saving it for another time.
suddenly, there was a third finger pushing inside him and he barely managed to catch Thorin's self satisfied grin before the dwarf hid his face in the plush of his thigh again. Bilbo's own head fell back, and then it was blessed blackness before his eyelids.
it was quick work - three digits pushing and curling, moving swiftly, finally finding the special spot inside and not relenting on it for a second once he let out a strangled sound.
"Thorin," Bilbo said again, more of a warning this time as his intended's lips first latched firmly on his sack, then moved higher, slow and methodic as he mouthed along his shaft. wet, sucking kisses traveled all the way to his tip until it was swallowed by a stunning, tight heat and Bilbo cried out.
he was partial, in particular, to that specific type of love, the smooth bland of being adored in and out. the drag of Thorin's tongue low along the underside of his dick as his lover took him in to the hilt paired with the effortless movement of his fingers, the ease he targeted Bilbo's sweet spot with. he made it look - feel - so easy; only Bilbo himself and one other hobbit - a nice fellow he was, back in the day - knew how difficult it had been for him to top for the first few times.
but Thorin - Thorin felt like a natural.
humbling, really, to feel like he felt with somebody who had so little experience. just as Bilbo thought he knew all there was for a hobbit to know and some beyond.
there was a sharp suck, delicious tension closing on his entire length, the insistent rubbing against his insides, and he was fisting into Thorin's hair, barely shy of sobbing. a harsh breath rippled through him, high on the inhale, choking. there was too much air in his throat, molten silver and gold in his lungs, he was gagging on nothing but his own release as his cock pulsed and spurted into his lover's mouth. he didn't bother warning him. what good there was? he never listened, anyway.
Thorin only pulled off once the last moan dribbled off Bilbo's lips and he finally fell silent. eyes closed, the hobbit could only feel him - smiling against the tender inside of his thigh, a kiss against the low of his belly, lips dragging up his sternum. he only opened his eyes when the dwarf began to mouth at his neck and he twitched, overwhelmed. a minute, had his lover been willing to give it to him to rest, would have been very welcome. alas.
"so good," Bilbo sighed softly, grabbing Thorin by one of his braids, the warrior one, and pulling him away. just to take a look, he would have said if the dwarf had asked.
"you flatter me," Thorin kissed his jaw with a smile.
"you know I wouldn't," Bilbo scoffed. "do you take me a liar, master dwarf?"
"I take you a lot, labthûnimê," the king smirked into his skin, smug as a fox in the henhouse. "it's getting hard to keep up."
"hush. just kiss me."
Thorin didn't need to be told twice; did he ever? he crashed his mouth to Bilbo's. there was a filthy kind of pleasure for the hobbit to take from tasting himself on his lover's tongue; it made him moan, again.
they kissed a long time. the king's hand on his intended's belly, another cupping the side of his hands. both of Bilbo's hands in Thorin's hair; he only ever wore it down, braids on full display as was the honorable way, but he would have benefited from a leather strip to keep a bun for moments like these, Bilbo thought. it was getting in his face when he wanted to be as close as possible. their tongues rubbed and slid and probed in such perfect unison; they knew so well what the other liked, the how and where. Thorin groaned a little louder when Bilbo forced his tongue in just a bit; he deserved the respite of having the control taken from him, if just for a few minutes.
it was so hard to pull apart. even with the hobbit's cock swelling once more, so easily roused, even when Thorin's caressed up and down over the subtle raises and falls and hills and valleys of Bilbo's supple body, they couldn't help it. so many hours in a day were filled with duties, endless council meetings, piles of parchment to read and correct, re-read and re-corrected, subjects to hear and laws to push or stop and the constant noise. so little time left to be close. the evenings spent in their chambers were short - a cup of tea, a bit of talking and a kiss or a round or two of sex before sleep if they weren't too tired. they were far too gone for one another to have so little time truly alone.
it was Thorin that pulled away first - his lips swollen with the small bites Bilbo lavished on him.
"love," he breathed, caressing smoothly down the hobbit's once-more bulging dick, slow as could be from the head to the root. "íbinimê, labthûnimê. can we? again?"
Bilbo had been ready for a few torturous seconds now, but he's been waiting - for that, precisely.
"yes," he gasped. "yes, yes. I'm ready. I'm- yes."
Thorin pulled his fingers, quickly, into his mouth and covered them with spit again before shoving them inside his One, and they couldn't have stood to take any more time if they wanted to. he trusted deep and at once, just to check if it'd be enough. that stretch was gone as soon as it was there, and then the king spat unceremoniously in his palm. he took himself in hand and bit back what would have been a beautiful moan but ended up a small whimper.
"louder, sweetie," Bilbo whispered. "don't you think I want to hear how you need me?"
a fat, blunt cockhead tentatively, briefly kissed his entrance before pushing in. Thorin entered slowly, half an inch at a time. always treating Bilbo like he was made of glass, of fine elven porcelain, something too thin for a working hand to grasp.
if only.
"come on," the hobbit urged. "keep going, you know you won't break me. I've taken such things from you, love, you can hardly- oh!"
what a lovely feeling it was, when it finally slipped in fully. the stretch as he took the thickest part of Thorin's cock, the slight relief when he could narrow down to the shaft again after swallowing the tip. the dwarf sighed in relief, too, as the reddest, most raging part of him was finally inside and quenched by pressure.
"I'm sorry," the king choked out. poor thing. "I- Mahal, too fast. sorry."
"no, no, don't be," Bilbo's eyes prickled with tears, but he clenched down, still. "I love it. you know I love it, I always… always tell you I love it. oh, honey… just… just a second."
he could feel the air urgently push out of his lungs, as if there was only so much space inside him and his intended filled such a wonderful lot of it.
they kissed again - hard and passionate, like oxygen only existed in each other's lungs. gods, they needed it. Bilbo felt so suffocatingly tight around Thorin's cock, but neither would ever complain about that. the dwarf wanted his life squeezed out of him as he finally moved, a careful half-push inside and an agonizing draw back. always like that, always grunting about tighter and more.
he jerked forward again, and he retracted, and he returned, and he slowly set into a lovely back and forth.
"that's it," Bilbo soothed. "good lad. perfect."
Thorin groaned and buried his nose in the crook of Bilbo's shoulder at the same time as he shoved himself inside to the hilt.
"I love you," he muttered on the pull-back. "I-" something sharp followed, a sound that the hobbit wasn't sure if he knew the meaning of but sounded a lot like some kind of Khuzdul curse. "Bilbo, marry me."
"awful time," the hobbit heaved because that thick cock slammed back inside him and hit his sweet spot head-on. he tensed and all that left his mouth was a high-pitched while. "awful- terrible time to ask," he continued after a second, feeling that shit-eating grin the dwarf hid against his skin. "you do realize. and besides, you asked me before."
"and I'll ask again," Thorin said, urgent, trying to fit the words between thrusts. "I'll ask as many times as you want. but I need to know, mesmel. please?"
"I will."
he knew for a long time that he would. who was he kidding? any moment of any day - and especially now.
he knew he was going to marry Thorin long before any word was spread. he knew even before they reclaimed Erebor.
"yes?" the dwarf tried to bury deeper in his neck but Bilbo didn't let him. he took his face in small but sure hands and pulled him up, pressing their foreheads together.
"yes," he nodded.
Thorin moved again. eyes squeezed shut, brow drawn, he pistoned inside him with new determination. the hobbit knew what it was - the speed and the roughness and the near-desperation, he knew that his intended was trying to act out on all the emotions his agreement just evoked. and maybe he would have said something if all coherent words weren't suddenly fucked out of him.
"yes," he repeated instead. "yes, Thorin, yes, you- you… mhm! mhm…"
it was all just noise, parroting nonsense syllables back and forth at one another until they were kissing again, drinking those syllables from one another's lips. Thorin moved, he never stopped moving, and Bilbo angled his hips to meet him mid-way over and over. they weren't in perfect sync, it always got too difficult after a while, but it never felt any worse for it.
it didn't take long, even if it felt like hours. a couple of Thorin's pushes that Bilbo was able to match before they were falling out of rhythm, erratic on the hobbit's side, stuttering on the dwarf's. Thorin's hips seemed to lock in place as the pleasure mounted, piling from the moment that he had his future consort undressed. a minute or two and they were being overtaken by their separate needs for a common goal, inching towards a shared end.
"Bilbo," Thorin panted, catching his breath at the same time as he caught his irregular movements.
"yes, exactly there, yes…"
"úkrad-"
the king had to pull out momentarily, heavy breaths washing over Bilbo's mouth, but he managed to catch the hobbit's hips as they rabbited up and towards him, holding him tight through his orgasm.
"love," Bilbo whined. "why did you… why… we could have, together?"
"next time," Thorin shook his head. "next round. I couldn't… you want more, don't you?"
"well, now I certainly do."
"later. next time?"
"you better."
and if Bilbo had mentioned before that it was much more satisfying for him to finish multiple times, it wasn't on him that Thorin had set some kind of standard for himself and couldn't possibly allow himself to finish before he was sure his lover was completely spent.
"I will," Thorin nodded earnestly. "I- amrâl, I would have, but… yes, I will. next one."
"good," the hobbit nodded, canting his hips upwards.
"already?" the dwarf sounded a bit startled, eyes suddenly wide. cute. as if it was their first time.
"do you need a break?"
"no, but-"
"then get in here."
Bilbo's cock, flagging, not as if it was any obstacle for him, brushed against Thorin's fully hard one. a bead of precum smeared across the hobbit's shorter length, easing the slide just-so.
"get in here," he repeated. "we'll have the next one together."
"you know, most would think twice before commanding a king like that," Thorin teased, a dumb, lopsided smile stretching his lips as he aligned himself again.
"most are not to be married to him, are they?" Bilbo countered, pushing himself against the sweet intrusion.
he was perfectly loose from before, but it didn't hurt that Thorin leaned back, crouching on the bed, and bowed his head to spit where they were joined. the hobbit watched with wide, dark eyes as it dribbled from his intended's lips and fell right on his hole.
the sight alone - the focused look on the dwarf's face, the dark, short lashes that obscured his eyes, the serious draw of his brows, and then the sight of his strong chest, his barrel belly covered with wiry dark hair that thickened below the navel and the root of his cock peeking out from the thick nest of pubes, it had his dick twitching to attention again.
he was going to marry that man. a fall wedding, perhaps, before the chill settled proper over the mountain.
"come on," he urged. he reached out for his lover and Thorin leaned in dutifully, letting Bilbo hook his arms around his neck. "I want you, sweetheart."
he tugged, and Thorin knew immediately what he meant. they moved, rolling on their too-large bed, careful not to separate while the dwarf eased onto his back and the hobbit came on top, hands sliding to perch on his intended's impressive shoulders. Thorin's cock slipped deeper inside him in the process, causing them both to groan.
Thorin looked up at Bilbo with those gorgeous, earnest eyes, and the hobbit was gone.
"sweet lad," he crooned, slowly lowering himself until his arse was flush with his intended's hips, his hole full and pulsing beautifully around the swollen girth of Thorin's cock. he never even tried to stop the low sound growing in his throat.
"you feel so good."
Thorin's eyes closed and his face was so blissed out, so still in the waiting. his hair splayed prettily over the bedding, streaks of silver that he got so damn early shining in the low light of the hearth and some scarce candles, the black as dark as the deepest, cloudiest night, beads glinting in his braids - twin warrior ones along his jaw, a thick victory braid that he shared with all of the company and a slim courtship one. it was to be redone into a slightly thicker engagement braid and then again, into a prominent marriage one. beads would be stacked at the end, as was tradition - one for the wooing, one for the proposal and one for the ceremony. mirrored in Bilbo's own hair. his beard had thickened slightly from prosperity, but it was still short; it didn't seem to grow past the length Bilbo had first seen on him, a slight flaw that the hobbit found quite fetching. is suited Thorin's face like that.
"and you, too," Bilbo sighed.
he raised his hips, thighs shaking slightly from the effort. he felt more than seen two broad hands gliding upwards his thighs, soft flesh spilling from between fingers as the dwarf squeezed them high, closer to his groin than his knees.
those hands guided him carefully back into a seated position, then urged shyly for him to rise once more. Thorin never had it in him to be demanding in bed, as if he left all his strong disposition waiting, slumped, in the sitting room just outside their bedchamber. among the furs, he was all Bilbo's, molten gold in experienced hands.
as any good warrior would, he knew his place beneath a more seasoned one. like a youth with a training sword, eager to follow commands.
or like a large dog that rested its huge head contentedly in its master's lap, dark, faithful eyes always looking up with reverence.
"is it good for you?" Thorin asked, as if Bilbo wasn't throwing his head back in pleasure the second he settled into a rhythm.
"perfect," he nodded rapidly.
he rose and fell and rose again while Thorin not as much guided as aided the motions. he felt close even as they just started, and the bliss impended on him more with every thrust. up went Thorin's pelvis, down did his own. he pulled away, slowly, letting himself feel the drag of every thick inch, clenching down on the large tip, and then it was in again. the dwarf's fingers dug into the squishy give of his hips, pushing down with a touch more force every time, every descend, eliciting cries of pleasure to fall from the hobbit's lips.
he was loud, he knew he was. Bilbo never shared that with his intended, it felt too dirty to say when Thorin was still so new to the very concept of sex being more fun than sacred, but it turned him on - his own moans ringing in his ears, air passing his windpipe free and fast. the very vibration in his throat. he liked being loud, just as he liked to keep his eyes open when he picked up the pace and rode his lover in earnest, looking down on the way the dwarf's chest heaved, the rhythmic tensing of his strong tummy.
he looked at the way his own belly bulged just a bit, too, protruding in the way that made half his own cock disappear beneath the weight and how his thighs jiggled slightly when he began to finally slam down on his love's dick; Bilbo really liked watching himself.
he should have thought to try that much, much earlier.
the hobbit's cock was trapped between their bellies, squeezed more and more as he leaned forward, no longer strong enough to keep himself fully upright. it rubbed idly between the bulk of his own stomach and the steady wall of muscle and padding that was Thorin's abdomen, tickled from the top with the hobbit's soft, copper happy trail and from the bottom with the rougher, darker hairs on his intended's stomach.
an image came over his mind, or a memory - the thick forest of the dwarf's pubes and the lighter dusting of hair on his stomach clumped with thick blobs of cum - his own or Thorin's, he wasn't sure. it didn't matter; the fantasy didn't call for such context. it had tingles racing up his gut and settling around where his stomach was all the same.
"I'm close," Bilbo whispered without pretense.
"I- you- you know, I…"
oh, did he.
as dim as his lover sometimes was in those matters, as much as he couldn't use his words, Bilbo knew. he knew Thorin too well not to.
one of his hands on Thorin's shoulders released its grip and moved down, quick, set for an ample pec. his hold tightened over the muscle, a pink bud of a nipple peaking out from between the pointer and the middle finger, and just as the dwarf moaned Bilbo wished he was in the right position to lean down and take the flushed, hardened nub into his mouth.
he settled for a rough pinch.
"you want it?" he gasped, bouncing on Thorin's cock desperately. gods, he didn't even need to touch himself to feel so terribly, temptingly close. "want it, love? want me? do you- Thorin, please."
"yes," the dwarf gasped. "just a bit more… I promise, abnâmul, I swear, I'll… I'll give it to you, just-"
"alright," Bilbo nodded and tugged harder, pinching mercilessly without release. "but you better… ah, hurry."
"I will," Thorin sounded like he was going to tear up if he wasn't able to please his future husband right. "I will, I will… promise, I will."
they moved together, Thorin's hips snapping up, his cock impaling the hobbit over and over again. the tempo began to slip. it got harder for the hobbit to lift up every time until he was crying out to no god in particular, clenching down brutally on Thorin's dick. the dwarf pistoned his hips up and the hobbit ground down, milking him for all his orgasm was worth. Thorin's hand flew to Bilbo's cock, rubbing roughly with nothing but a few streaks of precum and the remnants of his own spit on his palm to ease the movement.
they managed to come together, the last pumps of the king's peak overlapping with the first of his future consort's, shared moans echoing in their bedchamber - Bilbo's loud and wanton and Thorin's shy, muffled, until their lips met once more. the dwarf's hips eased downwards and the hobbit's followed - and then, for a short while, they were kissing softly, not minding any attention to how Thorin's dick flagged and Bilbo slumped down against him.
"how do you feel?" the king finally asked, smoothing a palm over Bilbo's thigh.
"mm," he replied conversationally and yawned into the side of Thorin's neck.
"well, that's good to know," the dwarf chuckled. "am I right to assume you won't be stressing over things you shouldn't anymore?"
"well, it depends. if I do, would it earn me all this again?" one of Bilbo's eyes opened lazily.
Thorin laughed silently, slotting his nose against his love's temple, kissing sweat-damp hair.
"as many times as it takes you to realize how beautiful you are," he finally wrapped an arm around Bilbo's back, stroking along the hobbit's spine.
"in that case," Bilbo grinned against his chest, "don't pull out yet."