"Eh... well... ahem..." Bilbo swallowed, unsure of what to say.
After all, what was there for a peaceful, easy-going Hobbit to say? Hobbits were a good-natured folk; both apologies and gratitudes fell from their lips as easily as spring rain falls upon fresh flowers. The Dwarf sitting opposite of him, eyes somber and direct, legs folded underneath him in an oddly deferential way, was clearly of a different nature. Thorin Oakenshield was not one to admit his mistakes lightly, nor to show thankfulness unless he truly felt it, down to his very bones. And today he had done both.
Which, well, honestly, it made Bilbo feel a little swell of pride. He, Bilbo Baggins, had gotten acknowledged (and hugged!) by a great Dwarven warrior-prince. Who would have ever thought! However. Getting hugged was one thing, getting this--uh, this whatever it was, so clearly straight from the heart, yet as obviously infused with centuries of tradition, was another thing altogether. This just made Bilbo feel uncomfortable and awkward.
"Master Hobbit, my life was saved by your hands, and thus it lies in your hands. I ask you: give me leave to repay you the good you have shown me, and to demonstrate to you my gratefulness. I am at your service."
How could Bilbo even answer that?! It was honor, it was tradition, it was what one warrior said to another warrior. It was not something a Hobbit encountered on a day-to-day basis, or, you know, at all really! And the worst bit was, while Bilbo kept hawing and hemming for what must have been five minutes already, Thorin just continued looking at him, a little humble perhaps, but patient and not at all self-conscious. (And how was that even possible? Bilbo certainly felt awkward enough for the two of them!) The two were alone, a little distance away from the camp where the other Dwarves and Gandalf reposed after the exhausting day. The shadows cast by their fire flickered across Thorin's face, but excepting that his face was completely still while Bilbo attempted to clear the muddle in his head.
Finally, Bilbo's mouth and mind were able to work together long enough to form a coherent sentence, one that (hopefully) wouldn't be rude enough to break fragile new armistice between Hobbit and Dwarf: "Ahem... I'm happy for the offer, I really am, but it really is unnecessary. We Hobbits are really a simple folk, and nothing more than a simple 'Thanks!' is needed." He coughed a bit, trying to inject some manner of decisiveness into his meandering voice. "Really."
At this little speech, Thorin furrowed his brow, and his mouth clenched. Bilbo winced, expecting shouting and ire, but the Dwarf prince's speech was oddly halting: "Do you... not accept? I know I have given offense previously, but--"
"No, no!" Bilbo interrupted, waving his hands frantically. "It's not that, I'm just... uh. I'm not used to such words, or such offers."
"It is a matter of honor."
"Well uh," inspiration! "We Hobbits don't have much dealings with honor. We don't hold others accountable to it, seeing as how we don't hold ourselves accountable to it either. That would be. Uh. Hypocritical of us. And thus... dishonorable. Yes."
The frown became more pronounced. Crap. "A creature with no concept of honor would not have risked his life to save mine."
Ohhh curse those stubborn Dwarves and their stubborn refusal to see the world any way other than theirs! "Yes, but..." inspiration struck again! "You are still gravely injured. I couldn't ask you to repay whatever it is you owe me, not when you are barely able to move!"
Checkmate! Thorin was as stubborn as a bull, but even he would have to see the sense in that! After all, it was still a long way till Erebor, and they had no time for the leader of their company to run himself ragged doing for Bilbo whatever it was 'honor' demanded of him. Not when he was so injured! If there was one thing the Company Bilbo travelled with considered more important than honor or tradition, it was their quest. (And possibly food, for at least a couple of them.) All in all, the Hobbit was pretty pleased that he was able to work his way out of the entirely awkward situation of someone being in his debt without offense to anyone after all.
Yet... if Bilbo had weaseled his way out, why was Thorin looking equally relieved? His black eyes glittered strangely, as he said: "Do not worry, Master Hobbit, there are ways to demonstrate my gratefulness without much taxation on my body."
Before Bilbo could express his bewilderment in words, Thorin--
Bilbo's head must have been hit far too hard in the fight with the goblins. He was surely hallucinating this. Because this was definitely too impossible to be real. It was definitely impossible that Thorin--
Thorin was leaning forward and unbuttoning Bilbo's pants, lifting the Hobbit slightly (and easily) to slide down his underthings just a tiny bit and-- Thorin's breath was warm on his cock. Ignoring Bilbo's brain altogether, his body sent a tingle of pleasure running up and down his spine. He hadn't even been touched yet, and his body was already reacting to Thorin.
Bilbo's mind finally caught up. "Woah, what, I, what..." Well, kind of caught up.
"Do you accept?"
"I..." The Hobbit looked down, and found himself meeting the most piercing stare Thorin had given him yet.
"Do. You. Accept?"
With each word, Bilbo felt another huff of breath. The tingles along his spine intensified. His cock began to harden. And his mouth spoke without consulting his brain.
"YES! I mean. Wai--Nghhh."
Thorin's mouth had descended on him completely, as soon as Bilbo's tongue had formed that 's'. Tongue... The prince's tongue swirled around the head of Bilbo's cock, tasting and trying. Featherlight kisses followed, and the Hobbit spared a wondering thought as to how gentle this Thorin was, how unlike the usually severe, forbidding warrior. Then all thoughts fled, and the only sense that remained was touch.
Gradually, Bilbo became aware that he was letting out loud sounds, moans that could not be mistaken for anything other than the deepest sexual pleasure. Moans loud enough that they might be heard from the camp. He sneaked a glance down at Thorin, but the Dwarf seemed to engrossed in-- nghhh, kneading Bilbo's ball-sack while giving small, experimental sucks on the tip of his cock to worry about Bilbo's filthy mouth. Only one thing to do-- Bilbo stuffed his fist into his mouth, trying to stifle the sounds. It wouldn't do to get heard by the others (especially Gandalf!); what would he even say?! 'Oh hello there, sorry, we're a bit busy at the moment while your future king --ahhhh-- scrapes his teeth gently along my privates, please come back a bit --mmmf-- later.'
Still, was this what Dwarven culture was like? Had the others in their company experienced one or both sides of this tradi-- and Thorin swallowed him whole. oh. Ohhhh. Bilbo honestly had neither the imagination nor the desire to continue thinking about his companions, nor do any thinking at all that matter. Not when there was this warmth, this pleasure, this-- did he just catch Thorin glancing up at him to confirm his enjoyment? Whether he, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, was indeed enjoying getting sucked by Thorin Oakenshield, future King under the Mountain?
What. That. Bilbo's mind sputtered to a stop once more.
Slightly glazed with lust, but still shining with resoluteness. And perhaps a tinge of... a tinge of uncertainty?
And that hint of vulnerability, that drove Bilbo over the edge.
His head snapped back and his back arched.
Desperately trying to stifle his loudest howl yet, Bilbo came undone.
After, the woods around them were strangely silent. No woodland creatures disturbed the silence; Bilbo's panting was the only sound he could hear. The harshness of it broke him out of his dizzy happiness. Slowly, he unclenched his jaw from around his fist and tried to compose himself. Only when he felt just the slightest bit calmer was he able to glance back down at Thorin, trying to meet his gaze. Instead, his eyes met the sight of a Thorin calmly cleaning his beard of the few droplets of cum that he had not swallowed. Seeing that... Well, it was an image that would stay with Bilbo for a while yet.
Without glancing up at Bilbo's face, Thorin straightened out the Hobbit's pants, with the same straightforward air that he had practically dived for them earlier. Finally, Thorin seemed satisfied, and leaned back, sitting back on his haunches. Their eyes finally met, but it was by now too dark for Bilbo to tell Thorin's expression. Or maybe the expression a warrior had when repaying a debt was just too outside a comfort-loving Hobbit's range. Suddenly, Bilbo found himself desperately hoping this particular theory wasn't correct. In any case, the Dwarf appeared to be fine with just continuing to sit; Bilbo had a terrifying thought that he was supposed to say something wise and deep, to seal this matter once and for all. Well. Bilbo had no words of wisdom or tradition. All he had words for were 'This was amazing' and 'Can we do something like this again but with us actually looking at each other?'.
"Um... maybe..." Bilbo started quietly. "Maybe..."
He cleared his throat and attempted again: "Maybe we could..." He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
Thorin just looked back at him, an emotion in his eyes that Bilbo had yet not figure out. Still, there was a certain set in his mouth that made his thoughts clear: the dwarf was trying very hard to reign in his temper and not just yell 'Speak up or be silent!' at the poor Hobbit, as he would have before this day. And Bilbo appreciated the attempt to change, he really did, and perhaps that was what gave him the courage to blurt out, all in one breath:
It took Thorin a second to digest this, a second during which Bilbo's heart stood absolutely still.
Then his mouth softened, and his expression changed to one Bilbo could recognize, for it was mirrored in Bilbo's own eyes.