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It was just a simple fascination. Even when Thorin found himself mesmerized by the hobbit, he tried not to read anything deeper into it. After all, since the first moment he entered the smaller being’s home, he had become entranced by him. By the curls that ran from the top of his head all the way to his overly large feet. By the sheer number of expressions the hobbit could make, all accompanied by a tweak of his nose or the wiggle of his ears. However, perhaps the most attention-grabbing part of him was the additional appendage that he didn’t even know belonged to a free person of Middle Earth.
Bilbo had spent his first few nights with them explaining hobbit anatomy and tails to them. Each family’s tail was different. The Brandybucks with their thick, flat tail like a beaver. The Burrows with their fluffy tuft like a rabbit. The Baggins usually had a short, fully furred stump of a tail like a badger. However, Bilbo inherited his tail from his mother’s family, the Tooks. Which Thorin thought suited him all the more as he couldn’t imagine Bilbo without the thicker tail with the tuft on the end. Like a cow, Bilbo had explained, proceeding to tell them about his ancestor ‘Bullroarer’ and how he got that name. A story that had won him much appreciation and revaluation knowing that there was a warriors in his bloodline.
But it wasn’t just aesthetic appreciation either. It was so dexterous. The way it froze straight up when Bilbo felt put on the spot. The way it swished as the hobbit happily conveyed a story or memory. The way it curled around Bilbo as he slept. It was on nights especially that Thorin was so tempted to reach over and run his hands down the small hairs. Would it feel coarse like horse hair, or would it feel soft like goose down?
It was maddening to him, and made all the worse that they were on the most important quest Thorin will ever undertake in his life, and he couldn’t afford to indulge in such fanciful notions. No, the best way to fight such a desire was to keep it well out of arm’s length. So he distanced himself from the hobbit. Something that he knew left him wrong-footed with him. Even when the hobbit looked at him demurely. Even when it made him all the more irritable. He would not allow himself to be side-tracked by this enchanting being. By this fascination.
For that was what he had to keep telling himself. Like admiring a new mine or the slide of a new blade, it was something novel to Thorin, and no matter how many times the small part of his brain tried to convince him to just touch the tail and get it out of his system, he would not bow to his whims. He was stronger than that. So when the hobbit nearly toppled into the river with the ponies, he let Dwalin be the one to fish him back. And when they were nearly eaten by trolls, it was Fili and Kili who comforted him. Thorin nearly broke in the mountains when he dragged Bilbo back up by the scruff of his neck. His hands had been shaking with the need to pat every square inch of him, to see if he were okay, and it enraged Thorin that the hobbit had this sort of power over him. Maybe it would be better for him if he just left. Maybe he should have scurried back to Rivendell, and let the words of anger spoken on the cliff be the last between them. No matter how much Thorin regretted it. But he didn’t. Not his hobbit.
And then Bilbo saved his life.
“I have never been so wrong in all my life.” Thorin stated before wrapping Bilbo up in a tight hug.
Thorin could tell he had taken Bilbo by surprise as he stood there, stiff in Thorin’s arms. Just as he was about to pull away though, Bilbo hugged him back. A smile broke out across his face only to be interrupted when something slapped him on the cheek. He tried to pull back, only to find that he couldn’t. Bilbo’s tail had wrapped itself around the two of them and it was the tuft on the end that was slapping Thorin in the face now. He looked down in surprise to see Bilbo’s cheeks were stained red.
“I am so sorry. Let me just…”
Bilbo trailed off as Thorin reached up and let his fingers glide through the strands at the end. He had been wrong. It wasn’t like horse hair or goose down. It was like satin passing through his fingers and as he slid his hand down, the rest of the tail with its short fur was like velvet. He caught himself realizing what he was doing and chanced a glance at Bilbo again.
If the hobbit had been red before, he was practically maroon now. Thorin winced, thinking he had probably offended the hobbit greatly. After all, if it had been his beard, he would never allow such casual touches…well from others that weren’t Bilbo at least. No, the mere idea of the hobbit touching his beard was such a tantalizing notion that Thorin feared if it wasn’t for the pain of his injuries, his body would be betraying just how interested he was by this development.
“Please, forgive me, Master Baggins. I got…carried away.”
“It’s fine.” He squeaked. “No harm done.”
He managed to get them untangled at that point, and it was only spotting the Lonely Mountain that saved Thorin from showing the disappointment he felt. He looked back over at Bilbo, his smile shining brilliantly in the new dawn as his tail swished happily back and forth just barely avoiding Thorin’s arm by a hairsbreadth. Thorin sucked in a sharp breath as it hit him all at once. He had been wrong. This was no passing fancy, even now he wanted more. He wanted another chance to feel that tail slide between his fingers. He wanted to pull Bilbo in by his curls, maybe compare the texture to his tail, and taste that smile, his lips, his mouth. Thorin wanted to know every square inch of Bilbo intimately, and as that hunger seeped deep into his belly, he knew this was much more than a mere fascination.
***
Being on the road for months now with the dwarves, Bilbo had come to learn that there were some major differences between them. What was considered polite behavior in company, for instance. It took Bilbo a long time to learn that coming into Bag End and treating it like it was their own home to raid and rearrange was a sign of trust and friendship. It had been jarring and rather touching to know they had come to their ‘burglar’s’ house in the spirit of camaraderie.
Then there was the importance of hair. Hobbits considered a heavy tuft of curls on one’s feet to be the pinnacle of attraction and sophistication. For dwarves with their hair and beards, it was a little more involved. Braids and beads had different meanings, and they used them to display many different things. Their honor, their duties, even who they were courting. Bilbo was endlessly fascinated to learn about what his friends chose to display to the world. However, it was their physical differences that interested Bilbo the most.
Their lack of tails, for one, had endlessly confused the hobbit for weeks. How did they balance? What kept them grounded? Then there were their big rounded ears. Their broad shoulders and thick torsos. Their height but small dainty feet hidden inside bulky booted monstrosities. However, it was their hands that had caught Bilbo’s attention the most. Or rather, it was the hands of one particular dwarf that Bilbo couldn’t take his eyes off.
He thought about how rough and calloused they were the one time Thorin had to grab and steady him. He thought about how his own hand would be swallowed completely in his grasp. He thought about how dexterous they were to make such tight braids with those thick digits when he watched Thorin redo his braids late at night. But it was their hug at the Carrock that still had Bilbo shivering whenever he caught himself thinking about it.
He thought about how they nearly encompassed his back when he pulled Bilbo close. He thought about how warm and safe he felt even recognizing the power the grip held. He thought about how gently those fingers slid over the tip of Bilbo’s tail. A jolt of heat came rushing back through him causing him to squirm in his bedding. The touching of another’s tail was not done in the Shire, except by a spouse in the privacy of one’s home. Bilbo could not hold it against Thorin that the tailless dwarf would not know of such etiquette, but Bilbo still couldn’t escape the rush that he had done it so brazenly in the light of the sun in front of the whole company…
Bilbo found himself sitting up, gasping in air through his nose, trying to keep from waking anyone else in the large barn Beorn had graciously lent them. The heat was stifling after such thoughts, and Bilbo carefully picked a path around the snoring dwarves to get outside where maybe a cool breeze could douse the fire racing through him. Bilbo stood at the edge of the porch, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath in.
“Master Baggins? Are you okay?”
Bilbo had to cover his mouth to stifle the shriek as he jumped nearly out of his skin. He turned back to see Thorin, sitting in the shadows, the orange glow of the end of his pipe the only thing Bilbo could visibly make out. Bilbo moved his hand from his mouth to his heart as he tried to steady himself.
“You scared me!” Bilbo accused in a furious whisper.
The pipe was stamped out as the dwarf stood and approached him. The light from the moon shining on his smirk and amused eyes.
“My apologies. That was not my intention.”
For a moment, Thorin’s eyes cut behind Bilbo’s head, and Bilbo wasn’t quite sure what he was looking at until he watched his shadow and realized Thorin was following the back and forth motion of his agitated tail. Heat blazed back to life within him as he looked down at the fists clenched at Thorin’s side.
Touch it. Touch it again.
Bilbo had to clamp down hard on the urge to speak those words into existence as he forced himself to meet Thorin’s gaze once more. His eyes were so intense and beautiful, it was able to distract Bilbo from thoughts of his hands for the moment. Thorin took a deep breath before taking a step closer, only to hesitate and fold his hands behind his back. Bilbo did his best not to mourn the loss.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Thorin asked.
Bilbo shook his head. “You?”
Bilbo had only a moment to realize the ridiculousness of his question. He had only ever seen Thorin sleep once, and that was before his nephews tried to scare him with thoughts of orcs very early on their journey. Balin, who Bilbo had gotten to know well and considered him a dear friend at this point, told him that Thorin always had much on his mind, and rarely found the time to rest. It had saddened him, though not surprised him, that Thorin bore such a weight that even sleep held no relief for him.
Thorin shook his head before he turned slightly so they were looking out over Beorn’s lands together, side by side.
“What ails you?” Thorin asked softly.
Bilbo was half tempted to say ‘you’ but pivoted and said something about Azog and the orcs currently on their trail. Thorin hummed along in agreement before he wrapped his warm, dry hand around Bilbo’s own. He could feel a fierce flush overtake him, and when Thorin gave it a small squeeze, Bilbo could swear his heart squeezed along with his hand.
“Your fear is well-founded. I too share the same worries. However, I find comfort in the faith I have in my company. Every single member.”
Bilbo looked up, feeling utterly and completely gutted by the soft look Thorin gave him. Thorin gave him too much credit. It wasn’t quite the selfless, noble act of courage that had him rushing to Thorin’s defense. More like Bilbo couldn’t stand to live in a world without Thorin Oakenshield in it, and while he had a sword in his hand and strength in his body to do something about it, he was going to. There had been no other option, no other choice in that moment.
Bilbo lifted Thorin’s hand still holding onto his own a little higher to study it. Using his free hand, he traced his way over Thorin’s hairy fingers and knobby knuckles, utterly mesmerized. He mapped the scars there as obvious as the veins set under his skin. He slowly looked back up, gauging Thorin’s reaction. The dwarf was staring at him intently, his face betraying nothing, but his eyes blazing with a feeling Bilbo could feel creeping through his own body. Just as slowly, maintaining eye contact, he lowered his lips to rest against the back of Thorin’s hand. The dwarf gave a sharp intake of breath, and Bilbo straightened once more.
“I think having a leader they can follow, they can love, gives the company courage.” He half-whispered.
Bilbo’s name fell from the dwarf’s lips like a prayer as he reached out towards his face. He hesitated, scant space between their skin, and Bilbo leaned in the rest of the way. His hand nearly enveloped the full of Bilbo’s head, sending a rush straight through him. His fingers glided over his ear, down his cheek and jaw, over his collarbone, before coming to rest just at the middle of his back.
Thorin’s head bent down towards Bilbo’s own, and his eyes went immediately to the dwarf’s lips hidden amongst the dark facial hair. He licked his lips, hoping he wasn’t reading the signs wrong before he closed the distance between them. Bilbo was flooded with sensations. The warmth of Thorin’s mouth, the slide of his tongue, the faint scratch of his beard against Bilbo’s chin and his moustache against Bilbo’s upper lip. Within a few short moments, Bilbo suddenly realized he had a brand new favorite feature of Thorin’s, and he was going to drink it in for as long as he could. He pressed up on his tiptoes as he pushed against Thorin, wanting more. So much more. His hands slid into Thorin’s hair, giving it a slight pull that had Thorin moaning into the kiss which vibrated down through Bilbo’s whole body.
Nothing was going to pull him away from Thorin’s lips, not even air, and then a hand slid straight up his tail. Bilbo threw his head back with a gasp, the warmth going straight to his middle. Thorin watched him, panting as he furrowed his brows.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No.” Bilbo replied breathlessly.
Thorin was still watching him closely, Bilbo’s tail twitching, inching closer and closer to Thorin’s fingers to get more of the sensation when Bilbo watched the realization dawn on him. His gaze darkened, and he watched the flicking appendage with a hungry gaze that absolutely was undoing him.
“It’s sensitive.” He remarked.
“Yes.” Bilbo agreed pointlessly.
Thorin was suddenly diving down upon him once more. This less of the warm, easy kiss of before, but more of a devouring of Bilbo’s mouth as he backed him up into the wall. Bilbo grunted into his mouth, arching his back, as his hands held onto Thorin’s sleeves for dear life. His tongue rolled against Bilbo’s own as his hands, Yavanna, his hands, gripped his hips, rubbing but not quite breaching the waistband of his trousers.
Bilbo’s tail flickered aimlessly around them, seemingly unnoticed until Thorin suddenly reached out and snatched it in a grip that was firm but not painful. Bilbo’s head hit the wall behind him hard enough to color his vision for a moment as he willed himself not to come right then and there. Thorin rubbed his thumb on the fur right under the tuft, and Bilbo reached out to stop him only for Thorin’s other hand to grab both of his and pin them above his head. Bilbo gasped, wordlessly blubbering as his cock strained against its confines. Just when Bilbo thought he couldn’t get any hotter, Thorin began to rub his knee between his legs, giving Bilbo just a taste of friction before taking it away. He whined and squirmed without any desire to get away.
“You are absolutely beautiful like this.” Thorin breathed, the awe in his voice causing Bilbo’s cock to give another painful twitch. “But the question becomes what to do with you.”
Bilbo had many thoughts on the subject, but he couldn’t seem to articulate a single one as only a needy ‘please’ came bidden from his lips. Thorin rubbed his chin against Bilbo’s neck, and Bilbo angled his head to allow Thorin more access. To kiss, bite, suck a mark into his skin however he pleased.
“If we had more time.” Thorin vowed softly. “If we weren’t bedding amongst companions in the middle of a skinchanger’s barn, I would have you. I would taste and map out every inch of your skin before I pounded into your tight and waiting hole.”
Bilbo gave a soft cry as his cock pressed more insistently against Thorin’s thigh. Thorin’s name fell from his lips with ease, wanting that with every fiber of his being. The hand on his tail released him, giving him a minor reprieve as Thorin fumbled with the ties on his breeches, letting it fall with his small clothes to pool at his feet.
“However, this will have to suffice instead.”
Bilbo gasped, as Thorin’s hand wrapped around his length, the thick digits fully encircling him as he slowly, teasingly, slid his hand up and down Bilbo’s cock. Precum decorated and dripped from the head as he thrust his hips forward, needing more. Needing Thorin’s hand faster, harder, rougher. He gave another jerk, and Thorin loosened his grip, keeping Bilbo from chasing the friction. Bilbo strained against the hand holding him, his eyes closing as frustration built-up within him.
“Thorin.” Bilbo groaned, “Fuck me. Please.”
Bilbo was briefly released, and his eyes flew open only to see Thorin’s hands working to free his own straining cock. Thorin cursed as he fumbled with the laces, and Bilbo felt his mouth go dry when he was finally freed. It seemed hands were not the only body part that heavily endowed, and Thorin’s earlier words of fucking into him had his toes curling as his imagination ran wild.
Thorin spit into his hand as he pushed himself close letting their cocks rub against each other as he stroked the two of them in tandem. Bilbo’s mouth fell open in a soundless cry as his back arched off the wall. He could feel that moment of brilliant, blinding pleasure approaching with each calloused finger dragging against the sensitive skin of his cock. Each dribble of precum was collected and used to stain each other in their combined essence. And still, even through that, he wanted more.
Bilbo used his tail to knock Thorin’s hand away, and before the dwarf could question it, wrapped the appendage around both of their cocks to continue the work he had started. It was Thorin’s turn to gasp and curse as his legs shook, and he released Bilbo’s hands. Bilbo used the freedom to wrap his arms around Thorin’s neck as he wrapped his legs around Thorin’s waist. Thorin’s hands came down to grip the thick, plush cheeks of Bilbo’s ass, kneading and spreading the flesh in a way that sent goosebumps racing across his skin. Bilbo pulled Thorin back down into a sloppy kiss as his tail sped up. Pulling them faster and tighter, the friction utterly delicious until suddenly that white hot spark flooded Bilbo’s system.
He shouted into Thorin’s mouth as his body tensed and tightened around Thorin’s form, cum spurting between them. It took everything he had to concentrate and keep jerking them off, pushing Bilbo almost to the point of oversensitivity when Thorin hissed, following him into ecstasy. Bilbo gave each of them another long languid pull before his tail fluttered down, nearly grazing the ground as Bilbo panted and lay completely limp in Thorin’s arms.
Bilbo carefully unwound himself from Thorin, bending down to pull his cum-stained bottoms back on, wondering if there was a bath or washing bin he could sneak them into before the company awoke. When he looked back up, Thorin had already redressed as well, looking no worse for wear if it weren’t for the sweat beading on his forehead. Thorin gave him a soft smile as he reached out and stroked Bilbo’s cheek.
“Were you serious?” Bilbo asked softly. “About…if we had more time?”
Thorin hesitated before leaning down and setting his forehead gently against Bilbo’s own.
“I am serious, and when Erebor is ours. I will show you.”
Bilbo closed his eyes as his heart practically jumped out of his chest. He wasn’t sure when this stopped being a simple fascination, but he couldn’t say that he regretted it.
“Alright then. Let’s get our mountain back.”