“I haven’t thanked you properly for saving my life.”
The voice was a rumble against Bilbo’s lips as hands came to rest on his plump waist. He shivered under the heavy, calloused touch despite the hot water they were standing in. Damp breath puffed against his mouth and down onto his throat.
“There really is no need, Thorin. I am at your serv—oh!” the hobbit cried as Thorin bit the flesh of his throat lightly. He tangled his hands into the dwarf’s hair instantly, and groaned. “Oh, yes please, show your appreciation.”
A low chuckle brushed against his racing pulse before Thorin pulled back to meet his eyes. “Let us finish bathing first, little one,” he said quietly, stepping closer and crowding the halfling against the wall of the tub as he grabbed the block of soap.
Bilbo took it from him with a shy smile and a deep blush at the questioning look he received from the dwarf prince. “Allow me first,” he murmured, stretching up to press a kiss against Thorin’s chin softly has he worked a nice lather over his hands.
Placing the soap back onto the floor around the tub, he brought his soapy hands back up to Thorin’s hair and slowly massaged the suds deep into his raven mane. He worked the scalp, loosening the grime and blood and other gore that had gotten there over their journey because, though they had several chances to bathe in streams along the way, those baths had been very rushed and crude at best. Bilbo took care around a still-healing wound on the back of Thorin’s head, not wanting to aggravate it or reopen it accidentally. With long, slow movements of the tips of his fingers, Bilbo pulled light moans from the dwarven king.
Thorin’s eyes had fallen closed, his head drooping forward and his mouth slack. His hands were braced on the edge of the tub on either side of Bilbo’s shoulders, the veins of his forearms standing out as his muscles spasmed in pleasure. The hobbit licked his dry lips before pulling Thorin down for a soft, chaste kiss while he worked the suds through the rest of the dwarf’s long hair.
The king sighed and fell against his elbows, effectively pinning the hobbit against the wall with the length of his wet body, fully relaxing into the massage. He mouthed at Bilbo’s pointed ear, breath hitching as the fingertips moved down onto his neck and shoulders, untying the knots that had bunched there for years. A pained sound was ripped from him as one particularly tender spot was hit, and the halfling immediately backed off from it, but didn’t stop completely.
“I apologize, my king,” he murmured against Thorin’s shoulder, and the dwarf groaned, stuttering his hips forward against Bilbo’s stomach before regaining a bit of composure.
“Pass me the soap?” Bilbo requested, lifting his lips to the dwarf’s bearded jaw, relishing the way the whiskers rubbed against his mouth. The dwarf above him shuddered, but the soap was placed into his out-stretched hand. Gathering more soap on his hands, he reached up to put the block back on the edge of tub before placing his hands on Thorin’s chest. It was challenging with the dwarf so close, but he was able to move well enough, spread his fingers in the thick curls that he found there, shivering again at the feeling of them against his small hands.
They were as dark as the thick mane of the king’s hair, though peppered with grays as well. He moved his hands lower, over the sparsely covered expanse of flesh of the dwarf’s abdomen, save for a line that lead to more dark hair around an impressive package. Bilbo positively salivated at seeing it there beneath the water, rushing through washing away the dried flecks of blood that remained on his torso. Finally, his hands arrived at their desired destination as he wrapped both around Thorin’s cock and began to stoke.
The dwarf gasped then growled, his body going rigid as the hobbit worked him, teeth biting at the sensitive shell of Bilbo’s ear. Bilbo gasped, lifting his face to look up at Thorin, grinning when he saw Thorin’s eyes were still shut. To see him so enraptured and needy filled Bilbo with such a desire and greed, for a moment he was overwhelmed. He had to back off, pulling his hands away from the larger man’s prick and grabbed for the soap again.
Thorin positively snarled at the loss of stimulation, fiery blue eyes opening to watch the halfling’s movements. He made no move to get the hobbit’s hands back on the place he needed them most, and didn’t command him either. Bilbo would have obliged, having had several awkward reactions to the dwarven king barking orders at him over the course of their journey together. But he was glad for Thorin allowing him to pace this. He liked the power he had over him, even if it was only just for this one encounter.
Bilbo worked a fresh lather of soap along the ridges of Thorin’s back, positively quivering at the power he felt rippling just below the flesh. Every slight move the dwarf made had muscles bunching and shifting and Bilbo gasped at the feel of it. He knew the strength that the king could wield in battle, and imagining that power in the bedroom…he couldn’t help the moan that whispered past his lips.
Thorin’s mouth was suddenly on his, his tongue licking into Bilbo’s soft mouth. The halfling whimpered into it, and allowed the assault for a few long moments before pushing lightly against the dwarf’s chest. “Rinse,” he ordered lightly.
He watched as the dwarf dipped beneath the water quickly. When he resurfaced, his hair was slicked flat to his back, chest, and even some was in his face. Blue eyes opened as he set a possessive look on Bilbo and reached for the soap.
“Your turn, halfling,” he growled, bringing soapy fingers to Bilbo’s hair.
Thorin was quicker with his movements, but no less gentle, and Bilbo was melting back against the wall of the tub, releasing breathy moans and helpless sounds.
Heat coiled in his belly as calloused fingers moved along the hobbit’s relatively hairless skin, fingers that teased at his nipples briefly, leaving them as he cried out and bucked against a strong thigh that situated itself between his legs. Bilbo sighed as Thorin pressed an open-mouthed kiss against his cheek, and whined when the dwarf pulled back.
“Rinse, Bilbo,” Thorin said thickly, his eyes intense as he looked over the hobbit. Bilbo did as he was told, careful not to submerge himself completely. When he was finished this, he was pinned once again.
“Thorin—” Bilbo gasped out, eyes wide as the dwarf’s hand was dipping beneath the surface of the water and wrapping around his cock. He cried out as Thorin stroked him, his large hand engulfing his prick in amazing heat and friction. He thrust into it, desperate for the contact, but the dwarf was pulling away, leaving the hobbit whimpering.
“What happened to thanking me?” Bilbo ground out with as dark a glare as he could muster in his arousal, shuddering at the promising glint in Thorin’s blue eyes.
“Just a few moments more,” he murmured, and the halfling choked as fingers rubbed against his puckered entrance. “We must bathe you thoroughly.”
A finger slipped in gently, sending sparks of pain and pleasure up Bilbo’s spine as he arched and choked again. His hands grasped at Thorin’s shoulders as the digit moved slowly in and out of him, wringing noises out of him that would have even his Tookish side blushing in shame. At this point, Bilbo wasn’t a Baggins or a Took, and he probably couldn’t tell you what a Baggins or a Took was if you had asked.
“Mmm, that should do,” Thorin rumbled against his cheek as he withdrew his finger from Bilbo’s warmth and grabbed his hips. Before the halfling could so much as register just what was happening, he was lifted and placed so that he was lying down on the floor around the tub, his legs dangling over the edge.
“Thorin, what—?” he began, lifting himself up onto his elbows to look at the dwarf. The other man just stepped forward, grabbing Bilbo’s legs and maneuvering them so that they rested on his shoulders. Bilbo was about to speak again when Thorin lowered his mouth to his cock, and all attempts at speech fell flat as he let out a shocked cry. His head lolled back for a moment, but he had to watch Thorin.
He had to watch Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, the Heir of Durin and the rightful King Under the Mountain suck his cock. The thought of that alone almost had him coming on the spot.
Bilbo pushed the dwarf’s wet hair back, shivering at seeing piercing blue eyes staring right back up at him. The halfling felt the pad of Thorin’s thumb press against his entrance and he shouted again, eyes wide as it pressed inside. It hurt, being wider than the finger he had been previously stimulated with, but the mouth on his prick did wonders to work him through the slight burn.
He was moaning, shifting his hips down onto the thumb that barely breached his entrance and up into the mouth on his cock, but Thorin once again chose that moment to back away slightly.
“This does not feel like appreciation,” Bilbo ground out, his voice strained as he stared at the wooden ceiling above them, the muscles in his thighs and stomach twitching with his need.
“I will take care of you, my little one,” Thorin murmured, pressing a biting kiss against Bilbo’s inner-thigh.
“Sometime this century I should ho—oh gods!”
That was Thorin’s tongue, pressing against the ring of his entrance. It was absolutely filthy, and Bilbo wanted to protest for a moment, but then the dwarf removed his thumb and was licking into him. The stretch of it wasn’t painful, aided by the dwarf’s spit, and soon Bilbo was being fucked by the slick muscle.
His arms gave out beneath him and he arched dramatically, a scream leaving his throat as he buried his hands into Thorin’s hair and holding it in his tight little fists. His thighs clamped around Thorin’s head, ankles crossing and heels digging into the space between the man’s shoulder blades.
“Oh gods,” Bilbo gasped, yanking on Thorin’s hair and pulling a moan from him. The sound of it rocked through Bilbo, the vibration of it in his arse sending shudders through his body. The burning rasp of the dwarf’s beard against his sensitive flesh only heightened the wicked pleasure for Bilbo, and he allowed himself a second to question what that meant about him.
That thought flew from his mind as Thorin slipped a finger in alongside his tongue, the digit nailing his prostate on the first attempt. Bilbo loosed another scream, bringing one hand to his mouth to bite the heel of it groaning low in his throat and trying to keep quiet.
“Don’t hide your voice,” Thorin growled, continuing his ministrations after that small pause to speak.
“The o-oooh! The others, they’ll hear,” he moaned out with some difficulty as the dwarven king thrust his tongue as deeply as he could into Bilbo’s heat while simultaneously assaulting his prostate.
“Let them,” Thorin outright snarled as he reached his freehand up around Bilbo’s hip and began stroking his erection.
Bilbo’s hand fell away from his mouth, grappling for purchase on the floor as he rocked down onto Thorin’s tongue and finger, then up into his hand. His eyes rolled back in his head at the overwhelming pressure of his release began to build low in his belly, his sounds growing more desperate and needy and high-pitched.
Thorin pulled back for a moment and returned quickly, licking at Bilbo’s entrance roughly and pressing the flat of his tongue against where his finger disappeared into the tight body. Bilbo shuddered violently, barely noticing when Thorin removed his finger. The dwarf pulled back, smirking at the way Bilbo whimpered and began to beg, and grabbed the firm globes of his arse. He spread them slowly and stared for a moment, licking his lips despite the healthy layer of spit already there.
“Absolutely beautiful,” Thorin murmured, looking up the line of Bilbo’s body and making eye contact before he dove back in. He thrust his tongue as deep as he could, pulling more wrecked, blissed-out sounds from the hobbit.
Something snapped inside him and he was coming, a loud cry ripping from his body as he fucked up into Thorin’s hand. His hand found it’s way back to the dwarf’s hair while he rode out his orgasm, white flashing in his vision and Bilbo was sure he blacked out for a minute.
When he recovered slightly, his entire body shaking in the aftermath, he noticed Thorin pulling away. Bilbo locked his ankles tighter around the dwarf’s shoulders and struggled to push himself up onto his elbows.
“You haven’t come yet,” Bilbo explained when Thorin met his gaze with a questioning look.
“This was for you, Halfling. To take my own pleasure would—”
“If you wish to reward me for saving your life, Thorin, you would fuck me right now,” Bilbo insisted, reaching down and pulling harshly on Thorin’s hair, pulling a ragged sound from the dwarf.
Fire lit in Bilbo’s gut at the wild look that crossed Thorin’s face. His lips pressed into a thin line and his nostrils flared as his fingers gripped the hobbit’s hips with bruising strength. The halfling keened at the pressure as Thorin dragged him back down into the water of the tub. His legs were around the dwarf’s waist, and his hands on his shoulders.
Bilbo groaned at the arousing display of strength, tipping his head back to offer his mouth for a kiss. Thorin growled, lowering his mouth to the halfling’s.
The Baggins in him reeled at the idea of him kissing a mouth that had just been where Thorin’s had been, but right then, it was erotic in its filth.
All thought of the kiss flew from his mind as Thorin’s cock slotted into position and slowly pushed inside.
Bilbo mewled at the stretch and the burn, one hand sliding so it cradled the back of Thorin’s neck. The dwarf paused about halfway, his breath leaving him in loud gasps with a hint of vocalization, but Bilbo had other ideas. He thrust forward, seating himself fully, and pulled a broken sound, almost a sob, from the dwarf. Thorin muttered something loud enough for Bilbo to hear, but he couldn’t understand the words.
When it appeared the larger man wasn’t going to take the initiative, the hobbit began to move as best he could, using his grip on the man’s shoulder and neck to pull himself up and drop back down in a desperate pace. Thorin sighed loudly and began thrusting to meet Bilbo for each stroke.
Sparks of over-stimulation flashed behind Bilbo’s eyes, the pleasure bordering on painful, but he ignored it. The sounds Thorin was making as he thrust up to meet Bilbo, and the painful grip on his waist with the bite of nails on his back was more than enough of a reward for his efforts. To reduce such a proud dwarf to this moaning, shuddering mess would be incentive enough to risk life and limb for him a thousand times over if he hadn’t already cared deeply for him.
Soon, Thorin’s pistoning hips began to stutter and he made a weak attempt at lifting Bilbo off of him, but the hobbit held fast.
“I can’t hold on any longer,” Thorin ground out, his mouth open and hot against Bilbo’s throat.
“Make me yours,” Bilbo whispered, nails digging into Thorin’s flesh, leaving deep, red gouges in their wake. “Mark me.”
“Bilbo,” the dwarf sighed as his hips snapped up against his arse once more, his body hunching over the hobbit.
Bilbo could feel him pulsing inside him, heat splashing against his insides and pooling beneath his tail bone. He groaned at the feeling, his spent and flaccid prick twitching in interest.
It took them both a while to catch their breath, Thorin murmuring unintelligibly against his throat. They stood like that in the cooling water, Thorin hunched over Bilbo as the halfling clung to him, until long after the dwarf’s cock had softened.
“I am thankful you saved me,” Thorin began quietly, his voice hoarse. “But if you ever do something so reckless as standing up to Orcs alone again, there will be consequences.”
“I quite like the sound of that,” Bilbo murmured teasingly, grinning at the way Thorin shuddered. He sobered quickly though. “The same goes for you.”
“I can’t make that promise, my little one,” Thorin replied, pressing a soft kiss to Bilbo’s lips.
“Stupid, stubborn, prideful dwarves,” Bilbo groaned into Thorin’s mouth. “You will be the death of me.”
“I certainly hope not,” Thorin chuckled before pulling away and helping Bilbo to stand on his own. “And it appears we need to bathe again.”