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When Dwalin first noticed their burglar's interest in Thorin he felt an undignified giggle rise in his throat. Mostly because he so very well recognised that look, that glazed  expression which could stem from something as simple as Thorin turning his head just so, or just holding his sword in a way that seemed designed to show the strong curves of his muscles even hidden as they were beneath thick cloth.

And it didn’t bloody well help that Thorin never seemed to be aware of the affect he had on others. It just made everything that much worse because innocence had always fascinated Dwalin in a way that seduction had never managed. Still, if Thorin had been out to seduce him, then Dwalin would just have pounced on him decades and decades ago, and he would have done so gladly.

Yes, as his right hand very well could attest, Dwalin more than most knew Thorin to be devastatingly attractive; strong of both mind and body, and with eyes Dwalin could have written endless sonnets to had he been so inclined. (He had tried, he had failed, he had burnt every last scrap of paper involved and then scattered the ashes.)

It was hardly surprising that their burglar would notice this about Thorin as well, Dwalin didn’t even know why he was surprised.

Bilbo Baggins was perhaps a fussy little thing, but as the contents of his pantry had shown, as well as the high quality of his clothes (not just anything survived having a Troll sneeze on it), he knew a good thing when he saw it.

What Dwalin probably should be surprised about was why not everyone was mooning over Thorin; why it was only himself and Bilbo. (That being said, Dwalin was rather thankful that not everyone was in fact mooning over Thorin.)

Small, and fair, with golden curls and a smooth face, Bilbo Baggins was not like any Dwarf Dwalin had ever met. Of course he wasn’t, because he was no more a Dwarf than Dwalin was a Hobbit was he now?

Dwalin had first thought him a pretty doll; nice to look at but useless beyond that aspect. Something expensive to give to small children to play with - probably with the warning that they should not play too rough with it lest it break.

Still, their burglar quickly showed that there were more to him than a pleasing outside. Perhaps…
So far Thorin had shown little interest in what Dwalin, or countless others, would happily offer. Based on that, it was possible that he could find their burglar more intriguing. And while the thought tore at Dwalin’s heart, he also wished that Thorin would finally find someone to make him happy.

Thorin deserved someone like that, someone he wanted in turn.

Mahal knew Dwalin would have been happy to just warm Thorin’s bed, damn, he would still gladly crawl into it if given just the slightest hint that his presence would be welcome, but that had never been the case. And it wasn’t just him. Thorin had so far shown no interest in settling down with anyone, and he only very rarely took someone into his bed. The last time… at least the last time Dwalin knew of, it was decades ago now.

That lucky bastard of a Dwarf had been a fair bit shorter than Thorin, with copper-red hair and a bright smile. Very much unlike Dwalin in all ways he thought to compare them (and he had done so extensively, unable to stop himself). But perhaps not unlike Bilbo. And the Hobbit was certainly stubborn enough to make Thorin a match. Thorin needed someone like that. Someone who would tell him when he was being an idiot. And with a little more practice, that someone could very well be Bilbo Baggins.

Neither of them had met someone like Bilbo Baggins before. Perhaps the Hobbit would prove to be the missing piece of the puzzle to Thorin’s heart. And... other parts of him.

It wouldn’t do to forget about those because Dwalin had spent much to many nights with his hand down his pants imagine in vivid details all the things he would love to do to Thorin if given a chance.

Once, many years ago, Dwalin had approached the subject with Thorin. He hadn't revealed the extent of his own feelings; no use in burdening his friend with that since Thorin only seemed to look at him like just that, a friend, but friends could... help each other out. Indeed.

They'd been travelling, spending the night in an inn and the evening at the tavern located just next to said inn. They’d both had a few tankards of ale, but Dwalin only felt the drink like a warmth in his belly, or perhaps that was just Thorin's presence - sometimes it was hard to tell the difference. Though to be fair, with Thorin involved, the warmth in his belly just as often turned into a firm hardness a little further down.

As much as Dwalin wanted to spend hours staring soppily in Thorin’s pale eyes, he wanted to spend just as many hours fucking and getting fucked by him. In a perfect world, those two things would be combined. In this one, he wasn't able to do either, because the last thing he wanted was to make Thorin uncomfortable, make him feel like they needed some time apart, or, Mahal’s fucking balls, make him feel like he owed something to Dwalin. Thorin had a noble, self-sacrificing streak just as wide as the stubborn one, and if he realised that Dwalin wasn't just out to get into his pants...

Still, Dwalin had never been a coward, he had to try. A lot of things could be built on the foundation of helping each other out. And if his suggestion was ill-received, he could blame the ale and they could then forget it. (Or he could pretend to anyway.)

The two of them had been sitting side by side at a table, and Dwalin had nodded towards a couple embracing in a darkened corner of the tavern. Only one hand out of the four was visible, the others hidden beneath clothes or tangled in hair. 

"Makes me regret going to bed alone tonight."

Thorin had smiled, bloody wistfully as if everyone in the damned inn wouldn't come running should he only look at them, and nodded in agreement. 

"If you wanted-" Dwalin had suggested, leaning into Thorin's side; trying not to shiver from the warmth coming off him. "We could give each other a helping hand."

And who said that they only had to stick to using hands?

Dwalin’s mouth had been watering at the mere thought of unlacing Thorin’s trousers and taking out what casual disregard for privacy between friends had shown him would be a very nice mouthful of cock.

Oh, sometimes it had been all Dwalin could do to stop himself from staring when they stumbled upon a lake and Thorin suddenly decided that it was time for a wash. Dwalin bloody hated cold baths, but they sure came in handy at times. Though after that time when he had been forced to throw himself head first into a mountain stream or risk giving Thorin an eyeful, he’d thought that his cock would never dare come out again out of fear for the icy water.

When Thorin had leaned into him in turn, face coming closer, Dwalin's heart had leapt and his cock had stiffened against his thigh abruptly enough to leave his head reeling. But all Thorin had done was to press a brotherly kiss against Dwalin's forehead, pulling back to smile warmly at him. 

"Thank you, but I think it's best not to."

Rejection, if an exceptionally kind one, and Dwalin hadn't tried again. And neither of them had mentioned what had happened again. It was… it wasn’t what Dwalin wanted. But no one had ever died of blue balls, and as long as he could remain Thorin’s friend, he would be content. Sometimes even happy.


When Thorin embraced Bilbo on the top of the Carrock Dwalin turned his gaze away. He was jealous, and furious at himself for it. Hadn’t he already thought of this? Hadn’t he already decided that he would be happy for his friend? Thorin had risked his life to save Bilbo's, and the Hobbit had answered in turn. He had more than proved himself worthy to have a place on this quest, and by Thorin's side.

But Dwalin's aggravation didn’t lessen until late that evening when he heard Thorin reject Bilbo’s carefully worded invitation for Thorin to share his bedroll. (Bilbo hadn’t put it exactly like that, which was wise seeing has they’d all lost their bedrolls when falling into the Goblins’ trap, but that had indeed been the gist of it.)

All of a sudden his ire fled and Dwalin only felt tired. So, their burglar would have no better luck. It wouldn't improve his own, would it.

The Dwarf looked over towards Bilbo and hid a sigh when he saw the way the Hobbit’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes and the way the he bit his bottom lip and looked dejectedly at Thorin when his back was turned.

In a way it was funny, the way both he and their burglar kept mooning over Thorin like two lovesick pups. And in a way, it was everything but funny.

Dwalin didn’t just want Thorin, he loved the gorgeous bloody bastard. And judging by the look on the Hobbits face, it wasn’t just the bits between his legs it smarted from Thorin’s dismissal.

“You too, eh?” Dwalin said a little later as he threw himself down on the ground next to their Hobbit who was for some reason clutching Thorin's cloak to his chest. At least Dwalin hadn't allowed himself to sink to that level. “Oh don’t even,” Dwalin added when Bilbo looked confused. “I’m talking about our fearless leader and the way you look at him like he’s a three course meal and you’re starving.” (Perhaps more than a three course meal, Hobbits sure seemed to eat a lot whenever given opportunity. )

Dwalin wouldn’t have been so free with his words under normal circumstances, but then again, what about these circumstances were normal to begin with? And it wasn't like anyone would hear them. Bilbo had settled some distance away from the others, everyone but Gandalf had already retired for the night (and Dwalin was of the suspicion that the Wizard already knew every thought that passed through a person’s head) and Dwalin was just so bloody tired of not talking about this. He'd spent decades not talking about this.

He couldn’t tell Thorin of all the things he wanted to do to him, for him, and with him, he couldn’t tell him about the way he wanted to press chaste, close-mouthed kisses to the wrinkles surrounding Thorin’s eyes, or how he wanted to spend an entire day making him spill as many times as it took before he was just a limp pile that could hardly remember his own name. He couldn’t talk to Thorin about those things because Thorin didn’t feel the same way. But, who better to talk with then, than someone who by all accounts seemed incredibly suited to understand his position.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bilbo said quietly, eyes not quite meeting Dwalin’s.

“Right,” Dwalin said sceptically. “So all that licking your lips you do when you look at him, that’s just what? Your mouth’s dry? And when you stare at his thighs and crotch you’re wondering where he happened to find those fancy trousers, eh? If they've got a pair just your size? Or do you want to get inside-”

When Bilbo hissed at him to shut-up, looking around with wide eyes, Dwalin only chuckled. And to his surprise, he was honestly amused.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me, and I can’t exactly fault you for your taste.”

“So,” Bilbo said slowly after a moment’s silence. “You also.. want him?”

Yeah, Dwalin thought drily, not just a pretty face that one.


It actually did help, to have someone to talk about Thorin with, someone who understood. At least, it made Dwalin feel better.

It didn’t really help with the whole blue balls situation though.

Not for the first time he and Bilbo had secreted themselves away in a corner of the shape shifter’s garden, hidden from view by a large flowering something with branches reaching down to touch the ground all around them.

“And his hips, when he’s naked they look so damned narrow compared to his shoulders. Like if I knelt and grabbed his arse, my thumbs would have a chance of reaching the hollow made by the dip in the bone, right there on either side of his dick. I could just grab his arse and hold him still as I sucked him off.”

“Yeah,” Bilbo agreed wistfully. “Well I couldn’t, but you’ve got big enough hands for it I wager.”

“Hang on,” Dwalin said after a beat. “When did you see him naked?” Because Bilbo had certainly sounded too sure to just be guessing.

Colour rose on Bilbo’s cheeks. “It’s certainly not anything like you’re imagining. I just- when we were in Rivendell I might have taken a wrong turn and stumbled into the wrong room, and inside that room Thorin might have been getting ready to take a bath. And strangely you don’t wear a lot of clothes when you’re about to bathe.”

“So that’s what the two of you were doing when you didn’t join us by the fountain,” Dwalin smirked, his grin growing wider when Bilbo glared at him.

“I still can’t believe that you did that. Bathing in a fountain... When Fíli and Kíli told me I thought they were joking - what must Lord Elrond have been thinking? Also, I’ll have you know that Thorin and I didn’t do anything.” Bilbo’s fingers twitched a little against the grass. “I probably made some embarrassing sounds, and then when my limbs would obey me, I most definitely apologised and closed the door.”

“But you saw,” Dwalin said throatily. “You saw how he looks. His strong thighs, his waist.”

Against Dwalin’s thigh his cock gave an interested twitch. It had been half-hard since about ten minutes into their conversation, not quite ready to take the final step into full hardness from just talking, which was just as well considering he couldn’t exactly take it out and wank as long as Bilbo was sitting right there.

“His ankles,” Bilbo said wistfully.

“Ankles?” Dwalin blinked.

“They’re very shapely,” Bilbo defended. “And you’re always wearing boots, the lot of you.”

“Are we depriving you?”

“Oh, do shut up,” Bilbo said, bumping his shoulder into Dwalin’s arm, and oh.

“So… what did you do when you’d closed the door?” Dwalin asked softly, not looking away from hazel eyes when they widened in surprise.

The touch of Bilbo’s shoulder had made Dwalin realised something. Three somethings in fact.

The first was that he didn’t mind Bilbo touching him. Sure, it could just be the subject of their conversation, or just that it had been so bloody long since someone else had touched him while he’d been aroused, (Dwalin wasn’t exactly celibate, but it had been quite some time since someone had caught his eye enough to distract him from Thorin) but when Bilbo’s shoulder had nudged him, Dwalin’s instincts had told him to press into the touch. Dwalin, as a rule, tended to trust his instincts.

The second realisation wasn’t as much as realisation as it was a recollection: friends could help each other out. And while he wasn’t sure if he and their burglar was friends, they were something close enough. If they weren’t, Dwalin would never had been in this situation to begin with.

And the third thing to occur to him, was that the image of Bilbo slinking back to his room, his cock hard in his trousers, that image was not at all something Dwalin opposed.

Suddenly, the image of a fucked-out Thorin, Bilbo kneeling at his side swum into Dwalin’s head, and to his surprise the hot stab in his chest was as much desire as it was envy.

So why not? If talking about Thorin felt good, then talking about Thorin while being touched and getting to touch must be even better.

Now the question was, what would Bilbo’s response to this be? But even with that uncertainty it was freeing to know that even if the Hobbit just got up and left, it wouldn’t be a catastrophe. Dwalin had very little to lose from a rejection from their burglar. Things would just go back to how they’d been for a long time. And he was used to that. But if Bilbo didn’t leave…

“Did you go back to your room?” Dwalin prompted, and Bilbo nodded slowly. “What did you do then?”

“I-“ the Hobbit hesitated, glancing around as if expecting someone else to suddenly have joined them. “I touched myself,” he said huskily. Ah, not leaving then.

“You thought about him.” It wasn’t a question, but Bilbo still answered it.

“Yes,” he said, the word as much sigh as sound. “I thought about running my hands through the hair on his chest, on his thighs. If it would be soft or rough.”

When Dwalin reached out and lightly put his hand over Bilbo's soft thigh the Hobbit froze, but he didn’t pull away, and when Dwalin rubbed his thumb over the well-padded muscle a soft moan escaped from Bilbo’s lightly parted lips. Emboldened Dwalin slid his hand upwards, stopping just south of the Hobbit’s crotch.

"D’you want to?"

The question itself could have meant a thousand things, but in this situation, the intent behind it was unmistakable.

"Please," Bilbo breathed, any hesitation gone and when he climbed into Dwalin's lap his hands were eager and his eyes dark and hot. 

“Would you want to fuck him?” Dwalin breathed against the side of Bilbo’s neck as he ground the Hobbit down on his now aching dick. Even though several layers of cloth separated them it still felt bloody wonderful. “Or would you just be looking to have him take you? You seem to like this. Imagine how much better it would be if it was Thorin rubbing against you. Or in you.”

Dwalin had never seen Thorin hard, but even soft his dick was of a good size. Not as big as Dwalin’s own, but still longer than what could be covered by Dwalin’s hand. And their burglar had such small hands. He would definitely need both of his to cover the shaft. And he probably wouldn't be able to take it into himself without a lot of preparation.

“You think, you think he’d want to be…. taken?” Bilbo asked shakily, arms coming up to wind themselves around Dwalin’s neck. “It’s not, do you, do you like that?”

“Don’t you?”

“Well yes, but I’m not like you, not a warrior.”

Dwalin snorted, which turned into a soft groan when Bilbo twisted his hips just so. “What does that have to do with it? It feels nice, doesn’t it?” The Dwarf moved his hands from Bilbo’s hips to squeeze his ass. “Having a cock inside you, rubbing against all the right spots, sliding in and out until you have to touch yourself or go crazy from it.”

When Bilbo hid his face against the side of Dwalin’s neck the Dwarf could feel the heat coming from his blush and he chuckled. The laugh quickly turned into a groan when sharp teeth nipped at his skin.

“None of that now,” Dwalin warned.

“It won’t show beneath your beard anyway,” Bilbo muttered sullenly, but he pulled his head back to look Dwalin in the eye. The hazel of the Hobbit’s eyes were almost gone, erased by black.

“So you wouldn’t want to fuck him?” Bilbo asked, and Dwalin snorted again.

“Lad, I would want to do everything. Anything else would just be a waste.”

“Don’t call me that, I’m not a child.”

“No,” Dwalin said slowly, sliding his hand over Bilbo’s hip to cover his hard length. “No you’re not or we wouldn’t be doing this.”

“You’re- ah,” Bilbo pushed his hips into Dwalin’s hand. “You’re going to think of him?”

“Same as you I expect,” Dwalin replied, fingers struggling with stubborn buttons. What idiocy was it to have button to hold your trousers closed instead of laces?

“Let me,” Bilbo said, pushing Dwalin’s hands away and soon enough silky-soft skin stretched over a hard length bumped against Dwalin’s palm. The cock was bigger than Dwalin had expected, but still much smaller than his own. It’s- the best word he could think to describe it with is pretty. It was flushed the same ruddy colour as Bilbo’s cheeks, and a bead of moisture glistened at the head of it like a gemstone.

“Now you,” Bilbo demanded, clever fingers burrowing between them to tug at Dwalin’s laces.

“Would you be this pushy with Thorin?” Dwalin wondered, leaning back on his arms to give Bilbo more room to work with. “And you didn’t answer my question before. Would you want to fuck him?”

“Do you want to know what I want to do?” Bilbo asked throatily, humming in surprise when Dwalin’s cock sprung free from the layers of fabric. “My, you’re big," he remarked, sounding impressed. "What I would want to do...” he continued slowly as he wrapped both his hands around Dwalin’s cock and just as slowly dragged them up from the root stopping just shy of the head and back down again, making Dwalin’s hips twitch as the touch managed to be both too soft and not soft enough at the same time.

“I would ask Thorin to lie back, like this, just like this, and then I would move, like this-“ Bilbo got one knee on the ground, sliding backwards until he was no longer straddling Dwalin’s lap. “And then I’d ask if I could take him in my mouth. If he wanted that. If that would please him.”

Dwalin let his eyes fall shut and imagined Thorin in the same position as the one he was now finding himself in. Thorin’s back would be braced against the tree, legs stretched out in front of him, thick thighs a cradle for his hard cock, or, they would be if Bilbo hadn’t been kneeling next to Thorin, soft hands wrapped around him, holding him steady as that pink, wet mouth came closer and closer.

At the first swipe of a tongue against his cock Dwalin groaned, hips bucking upwards. But Bilbo had already pulled back.

“He would taste good, don’t you think?” Bilbo asked almost absently as he used his thumb to spread the slick from Dwalin’s slit all over the head.

“Yessss,” Dwalin hissed as Bilbo bent his head again and slowly, so bloody slowly slid his lips over the glans, tongue moving in lazy flicks. “He would taste fucking delicious. And he would moan, and it would be so damned sweet.”

Unless Thorin had been a lot more sneaky than Dwalin could imagine, he couldn’t have had that many lovers. Would he look down at Bilbo with awe in those pretty eyes of his, look in amazement as their burglar managed to take more and more of his cock into that gorgeous, greedy mouth?

When more than half of his shaft was buried in Bilbo’s mouth; the Hobbit’s flushed cheeks hollowing as he sucked and licked, Dwalin reached down to pull lightly at a curl. “Don’t hurt yourself,” he warned.

The sound Bilbo made could only be described as offended, then he hummed, tongue tracing patterns on the underside of Dwalin’s dick and he swallowed, his hands moving to brace against Dwalin’s hips, and suddenly his nose was buried in the curls at the base of Dwalin’s dick. Dwalin practically vibrated from the effort not to thrust his hips as he didn't want to hurt Bilbo, choke him, but desperately needing to move.

Thankfully Bilbo pulled back, Dwalin's cock sliding wetly between stretched lips, the Hobbit's hands coming up to pull and rub at what his mouth was no longer covering. As he pulled off a thick string of spit connected them for a second longer and it looked so damned dirty that Dwalin groaned helplessly, pumping his hips up into Bilbo’s hands.

“That-“ Bilbo said, voice a little hoarse. “-is what I would do.” His hands kept pulling on Dwalin’s cock, sliding the foreskin up and down, squeezing and rubbing. “But I don’t want him to come in my throat. I’d want him to spill in my mouth, so I could taste.”

“It would be hot and thick,” Dwalin murmured, hands urging Bilbo to straddle his lap once again. “Could you swallow it all?” Like this, Dwalin was able to wrap a big hand around both their cocks, sliding it easily up and down as his own shaft was slippery from Bilbo’s spit, and the Hobbit’s cock was wet from his own slick that was weeping from the little slit at the head, leaking slowly down the shaft.

“I would,” Bilbo panted, pressing his forehead against Dwalin’s shoulder, fingers sinking into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. “I would take it all.”

“Same if he fucked you,” Dwalin rumbled, the hand he’d pressed against Bilbo’s back to steady him sliding downwards to rub between his cheeks. “You’d take all of his cock, and he’d fill you up so good.”

When Bilbo's cock twitched and spurted between them, it wasn’t Dwalin’s name that he moaned, and only seconds later Dwalin’s voice broke on a name that wasn’t anything like Bilbo. But it didn't bother either of them as they curled up together beneath the tree.


That was the start of something. What exactly was not something Dwalin could define. But was definitely something. Something… surprisingly nice.


In Mirkwood they huddled together beneath the twisted branches. And Dwalin took as much comfort from the Hobbit’s warm body by his side as he did from the knowledge that when he slept, Bilbo would be awake to watch Thorin’s back for him. They didn’t do anything other than hold each other, but the others were still quick to  realise that something had changed, and there were a few comments, some congratulations, as well as some rude jokes and sly smiles.

When Thorin didn’t react except to smile and raise an eyebrow in question Dwalin merely shrugged in reply. He was hardly about to explain the circumstances of this to his friend. And if part of him was disappointed that this was Thorin’s only reaction, he did allow himself to dwell on it.

When they, excepting Bilbo, were taken as prisoners by the Elves the two continued to spend time together, talking about Thorin, and sometimes they did a little more than only talking, even if they had to get creative considering the iron bars that separated them. But they also talked of other things. And to Dwalin’s surprise he found that his thoughts kept returning to Bilbo during those times when the Hobbit had left him. He still thought of Thorin, but now he thought of Bilbo just as often.

There in Mirkwood, their ‘something’ became something else, and Dwalin still didn’t know what it was, but suddenly it was about the two of them together just as much as it was about Thorin not being with them.

They didn’t define it, didn't talk about it, but during their stay in Lake-town, Dwalin brought Bilbo soup and tea to help with his cold and then sat by his bedside as the Hobbit slept, heavy breaths fanning out against the pillow as Dwalin slowly carded thick fingers through tussled, sweaty curls.


They didn’t mean for Thorin to stumble over them, they just- after Bilbo returned from his first venture into the mountain Dwalin desperatly felt the urge to make sure that his Hobbit was still in one piece. So he pulled Bilbo away from the others where they stood gathered around the golden goblet Bilbo had taken with him from Erebor's treasures, he walked Bilbo along the mountainside, and he didn’t stop until the others' voices were just a soft murmur in the background. 

Dwalin’s hands were careful as they slowly mapped Bilbo’s cheeks, his nose, down his pale throat, into his shirt. They were gentle as they undid the small buttons on the shirt and stroked over the superficial scrapes Bilbo had received when he scrambled to get back outside before the Dragon woke up.

When Dwalin tilted Bilbo’s face up and their lips suddenly brushed it was as natural as if this was their thousand kiss, instead of their first. Because for all that they had done together, they hadn’t done this. Not before this very moment.

“Dwalin, is Bilbo-?” Dwalin pulled back, they both did; and he licked his lips as he turned to look at Thorin who had just rounded a large outcropping of rocks. At the look in his friend’s eyes, Dwalin did a double take.

That- that had almost looked like jealousy. Then it was gone, and Thorin excused himself to go back to the others, explaining that he’d only wanted to be sure that their burglar was indeed all right.

Did Thorin want Bilbo after all? Dwalin’s arms tightened around Bilbo. He'd sought him out. He'd looked at him with something like want. And what did that mean if he did?

Dwalin still wanted Thorin, but he also wanted Bilbo; and not just because he couldn't have Thorin, but did Bilbo feel the same? And if he didn’t, could Dwalin be happy for his friends if they finally-

Bilbo mumbled something against the side of Dwalin's neck. 


"I said, you should go after him." Bilbo's smile wobbled slightly at the corners. "The way he looked at you, I don't think you're anywhere near as rejected as you thought you were."

Dwalin's mind helpfully became as blank as the surface of a lake on a day without wind. Him? No, it hadn't been him Thorin had looked at. It had been Bilbo. But if he didn’t share this, then Bilbo wouldn’t know, and Dwalin wouldn’t risk losing this. Wouldn’t risk ending up with so much less than he now had. But no.

Heaving a great sigh Dwalin straightened  and moving his arms from around Bilbo’s middle to clasp his shoulders.  

"He wasn't looking at me," Dwalin said, trying to sound happy, teasing, or just something that wasn't bordering on fucking miserable. He would be happy for Thorin and Bilbo, only, happy wasn't all he would be. 


"He was looking at you, but the rest is true enough. I think, if you went to him now, he wouldn't say no a second time."

"He was definitely looking at you," Bilbo said, stubborn as always. "I- I know what I saw. And you should, you deserve to be happy."

Now what was this bullshit? 

"I am happy," Dwalin said pointedly. "You make me happy. And fucking crazy at times, and scared out of my mind when you go to bloody steal from Dragons, but I-"


"I love you," Dwalin finished, eyes round with shock. 

"But-" Bilbo's eyes were open wide enough that Dwalin saw white all around the hazel. "But you love Thorin."

Yeah, and he wasn’t the only one, was he,  and wasn’t that just the kicker? This would be twice now, that he'd fallen for someone who didn’t love him back. At least Bilbo wanted him, but was that really any better, especially now that he knew that wasn’t all Dwalin wanted, not any more.

Dwalin let his hands drop from Bilbo's shoulders. "Yeah," he said slowly. "I love Thorin, and I love you."

"I love you too."


By Mahal's beard, the two of them really needed to stop saying that. 

"You love me?" Dwalin asked instead.

Bilbo nodded, and then they were kissing again, Bilbo’s hands tangled in Dwalin’s beard, Dwalin’s hands cupping Bilbo’s arse, pulling, and Bilbo’s legs wrapped around Dwalin’s waist.

"Wait, wait." Dwalin pulled away from Bilbo’s kiss with the greatest of effort. "You really think Thorin was looking at me like… like he wanted me?"

Bilbo stiffened slightly inside his arms, as if bracing himself, but he nodded. 

"And I think that he was looking at you,” Dwalin said slowly. “What if... we're both right?"

"You mean..?"

Dwalin nodded and pressed his forehead against Bilbo's. "What if, we've both been wrong, and he does want us. Wants us both. Would you- I don't want to do anything to lose this."

"I don't want that either," Bilbo pressed a kiss against his cheek. "And I do love you, but I love Thorin too. And if he- if he wants us. I don't- he shouldn't be alone if he can have us. That’s not right."

Dwalin's arms tightened around Bilbo. "I couldn't agree more."


"Thorin, could we talk to you?"

"I'm busy, master Baggins," Thorin said shortly, and this change of mood that would normally annoy Dwalin now gave him hope that they weren’t wrong in their assumption. Why else would Thorin suddenly have turned as prickly as a hedgehog unless... "Unless it is urgent-"

"It is," Dwalin said, taking a step closer to his friend, making Thorin raise his head to look up at him as he was seated on a rock. Yeah, he was real busy. "And I think you can cut it with the master Baggins crap. If you’d stumbled upon us a few minutes later you’d have seen him naked." Dwalin gestured towards Bilbo's chest, which was visible as his shirt was still unbuttoned.

Dwalin ignored the sharp elbow Bilbo shoved against his ribs for not informing him of this earlier. Like Dwalin could be held responsible for not wanting his lover to cover himself up.

"If that's what this is about, I did already apologise," Thorin said stiffly. "It was not my intention to interrupt, as I'm sure  you can imagine."

"If we asked you to join us, if it wouldn’t be an interruption, what would your intention be then?" 

 Bilbo slapped at Dwalin's arm. "I thought we agreed not to be quite so, so blunt."

"You agreed," Dwalin smirked but his eyes didn’t leave Thorin's face. Damn him for being so bloody hard to read. "I said I didn't see the point in pansying around. So how about it?"

"Thorin," Bilbo put a tentative hand on Thorin's arm. "We very much would like it if you wanted to join us. If that's something you would want."

There it was again. For the briefest of moments something hungry, yearning flashed over Thorin's face. Then he was unreadable once more. 

Bilbo's hand fell to rest limply against his thigh when Thorin moved to fold his arms across his chest. 

"You clearly... care for each other, it would only be folly to involve me in that. Surely what you have has not already gone stale."

Dwalin turned his gaze to Bilbo and raised his eyebrow in a silent question. When Bilbo nodded Dwalin hoped that they had indeed thought of the same thing. 

"We love each other, yes," Bilbo said quietly, and this time it wasn't yearning that Dwalin saw a flash of on Thorin's face, it was something much sadder. "But we love you too."

Stupefied was a much better look, and Thorin’s open mouth was beginning to give Dwalin ideas.

Brave as ever Bilbo took one of Thorin’s hands in both of his. "I hope you care for us too, and if you want to, you would be more than welcome to join us."

"I will not come between you."

"Shame, that sounds like a brilliant idea," Dwalin rumbled, letting all the years of pent up desire be heard. "You could take Bilbo, make him moan so damned pretty for you and clench around your cock when he spills, and at the same time I'd be inside you, driving you down deeper into Bilbo and-"

"And now we're leaving blunt behind in the dust," Bilbo muttered, cheeks tinged the slightest bit of pink. But going by the way his eyes had darkened it wasn't only embarrassment. 

"For the record," Dwalin said when Thorin still hesitated. “The first time I made Bilbo come it was by talking about how damned gorgeous you'd make him feel if you took him. You don't want to make me a liar, would you?"

When Thorin looked away Dwalin's heart sank, and he saw Bilbo tense, ready to pull back. 

"I'm not-" interested, willing, in love, "...very experienced."

Dwalin blinked. Then what he expected could only be described as a wolfish smile spread over his face. That wasn’t a no. That was very much not a no. 

"Now that, that is not a problem. I wasn't either, not like out burglar here."

"Thank you," Bilbo said drily. 

"It's a damned compliment," Dwalin protested, and while they hadn't compared notes, it seemed clear that Bilbo were much more experienced when it came to making love than he was. "Who would object to a lover who can make them come hard enough that their brain begins to hint at leaking out of their ears." He turned towards Thorin, "What he can do with his tongue, I think it's all that eating that they do. Or-"

"Yes, that's quite enough out of you," Bilbo said primly, like he’d never as much as heard a dirty word in his life. Dwalin’s grin grew.

"You should show him."

Thorin looked down at Bilbo who gracefully, beautifully folded himself into a kneeling position at Thorin’s feet (complaints about bluntness apparently forgotten), then Thorin looked back up at Dwalin, his expression uncharacteristically lost. 

Bilbo licked his lips and put his hand on Thorin’s knee. "Only if you want me to. If you want both of us."

"Is it too much to ask-" Thorin said, his usual wryness pushing back the uncertainty. "For a kiss first?"

"Not at all," Dwalin said thickly, taking a step forwards. Cupping the side of Thorin’s face he then bent and fitted their mouths together. Thorin’s mouth opened easily beneath his and Dwalin had to fight to keep the touch light and slow. He wasn’t about to rush. Not when he finally was allowed to do this.

When Thorin suddenly twitched and groaned into the kiss Dwalin pulled back, pleased by the dazed expression on Thorin's face as he mindlessly followed his lips.

It would seem that a pair of small hands had busied themselves with unbuckling Thorin's belt and unbinding the laces at the crotch. When Dwalin looked down it was to see Bilbo reach inside and carefully pull Thorin's still mostly soft dick out of the open gap of his trousers.

“Is this all right?” Bilbo asked, a little guilty even as he began to fondle Thorin’s cock.

“I- yes,” Thorin breathed, blue eyes wide, and Dwalin groaned reaching down to brush his fingers over Bilbo’s cheek, then over the head of Thorin’s dick, smearing the liquid beginning to gather there around.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time,” Bilbo said eyes flitting between the cock stiffening in his hands and Thorin’s eyes.

“Aye,” Dwalin agreed. “Want to suck you, want to fuck you, want to get fucked. Want to kiss you, want to fucking mark you.”

"We want you," Bilbo said softly, pressing a kiss against the side of Thorin's cock, hand coming up to cup his stones.

"I want you too," Thorin said gravely. "Both of you," he added.

"Well then," Dwalin grinned. "That works out quite nicely."


Thorin clutched at Dwalin's hand, Dwalin's other hand was clenched in turn in Bilbo's soft curls, and the Dwarf would have laughed out of sheer joy had his mouth not been previously occupied. As it was, he could only groan and suck harder.


“I’m not sure if I should slap you for being an idiot or kiss you for being a genius,” Dwalin muttered some time later into Thorin’s ear. The three of them were curled together on the ground, on top of Thorin’s cloak. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it would do. “We could have been doing this for years. Years and years and years. But if we’d done that, then I’m not sure Bilbo would be with us now.”

Bilbo, whose soft breaths puffed against Dwalin’s stomach, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other slung over Thorin’s thigh. They’d tried to coax him up to rest more properly between them, but the Hobbit had just muttered in his sleep and clung tighter, so they’d let him be. There would be time for that later, Dwalin would bloody well make sure of that. Dragon or not.

“You’ve wanted me for that long?” Thorin asked, surprised.

“I’ve loved you for that long too,” Dwalin said. “Just to make things clear. And while Bilbo hasn’t known you for nearly that long, he feels much the same way. Trust me." They'd fucking talked about it enough time that Dwalin didn't doubt this in the slightest. "But of course I wanted you. Don’t you remember when we were at that miserable tavern, that time when we were coming back from the White Mountains? I was hardly propositioning you because I didn’t want you. Or what did you expect?”

Thorin’s silence spoke volumes. “I’m leaning more and more towards idiot,” Dwalin said. “Seriously?”

“I didn’t think you offered out of anything but convenience,” Thorin muttered. “Possibly out of pity. Or drink. And I didn’t want that from you.”

“What about when Bilbo offered?” Dwalin said. Again, Thorin was silent. “Really?”

“He said that the night would probably be cold,” Thorin protested. “He said that it was only sensible to pair up. And when I offered him my cloak he took it.”

“My king is an idiot,” Dwalin mused. “I’m not sure this bodes well. A blind and deaf person would have sussed out the meaning of that offer, just by how he looked at you, but not you.”

“Some of us are trying to sleep,” Bilbo mumbled against Dwalin’s hip. “Do shut up.”