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Fine, I'm a stalker, FINE.
Molly Ringle (Persephone's Orchard)
The past three weeks had been some of the most trying in all of Azog's long years.
To have his könül so close and yet so far away… Oh! LetÖsta strike him from this Earth for it would be less painful than this.
His Orcs did not begrudged their leader his obsession. They understood. To find one's könül was the greatest moment in any Orc's life. It made sense that Azog would wish to be close to his dwarf. But still Azog swore to repay their patients. Come the day they return home, he would hold a great feast to honor both their service and the finding of his könül.
At times his Orcs would even come and keep him company, but only for short times. He has soon learning that he was very possessive of his könül and detested the idea of another looking upon what was his with admiring eyes. Boldog was a blessing. As his second-in-command, Blodog kept the Orcs from acting out or attempting to attract attention of the Dwarven camp as their leader attempted the best way to secure his könül.
He was alone now, watching his dwarf bustle around the camp, playing with the children and helping cook the afternoon lunch. His dwarf was always busy, always working. It would be the first thing Azog planned to change when he finally took his dwarf back to Ev. Never again would his dwarf be forces to lift a hand. His könül deserved to be pampered and cherished. Only the finest would touch his dwarf. He would make sure of it.
"Thorin!"
Azog snarled, a deep animalistic growl bubbling up from the depth o his throat. There he was. That swine. That cur. Not fit to lick his könül boots let alone touch him in such intimate ways. He forced back the urge to kill as he was forced to watch his dwarf be kissed by another, and once again Azog swore to rinse the earth of the vermin as he watched it hold what was destined to be his since birth.
"Dis sends a message," It grins. It's face still too close to Thorin, "That the lake is free and private."
Thorin…what a lovely name.
The first time Azog had heard it. It had been spoken by his könül's Övlad - the golden haired dwarfling that followed Thorin about camp. It had been late and Thorin's Övlad had asked for a song. Azog cannot recall the exact words for they had been spoken in a language he had never heard before. But it had been a beautiful song. Warm and passionate, his dwarf's voice had cut through the air like the rings of a bell calling for attention.
Thorin smiled, "As tempting as the offer is, I swore to care for Fili today. Perhaps later."
Azog sighed in longing and admiration. His dwarf was so kind, so giving. For all the hardships and burdens, Thorin was forever smiling and laughing. His eyes, a dazzling blue, always full of warmth. It was obvious who his dwarf had once been. Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, Crown Prince Under the Mountain. A member of royalty befit all the riches this Earth could offer, reduced to the duties of a chambermaid.
It made him sick.
"As long as you are sure?" His dwarf's voice drew his attention just as a fire drew a moth. Thorin had such a voice…he could listen to his dwarf forever no matter what he was saying. He could be reading the Böyük Hekayə* - the driest of Orcish literature in Azog's opinion - and he would still never find it boring.
Glancing up, he watches Thorin hand his Övlad to that vermin with a smile, "Remember that he takes his medicine before lunch," Thorin said, "And no matter how he begs, no cookies before dinner."
The brute waved his könül off with a smile and Azog watched with great appreciation as Thorin turned and walked away. His dwarf was a sensual being. All he had to do was whisper and Azog would coming to his service. With a face that kings would fight over and a voice that could tame the wildest of beasts with the sweetest of words, Azog was powerless to resist.
Crouching low, he moved silently through the forest, hidden by shadows, so as to continue watching his dwarf. Thorin stopped briefly in camp to collect some things from his tent before continuing to the eastern side where the gentler of two rivers lay.
Thinking that Thorin was to embark on his weekly fishing attempts - it was quite obvious the young prince was not used to such rugged environments, rather his nature more inclined to the softer ways of life - he was content to nestle himself against one of the larger oaks.
Azog knew this behavior was unhealthy. That it would be much better to simply grab his könül and ride. But he could not always do what he wanted.
His people needed those supplies. As king, it was his duty to get those supplies. But after having missed out on their previous chance thanks to the finding of his one, they would need to devise a new way to gather both the supplies and his Thorin (perhaps even his Thorin's Övlad if possible). Azog shuddered to think of what would have happened if he had not come across his beloved dwarf that night. If Thorin had been slain…If Azog had been too distracted by battle to recognize his dwarf for who he was…the mere thought was cause for enough nightmares.
It was only as Thorin began to remove his boots that Azog realized what was happening. He knew it was improper. That as an untried suitor, he had no right to see hiskönül bare and in such a vulnerable position. But no matter how his mind screamed at him to move, his body would not comply. It was if he had grown roots.
Mesmerized, he watched as Thorin slowly shed his outer wear. First his heavy, fur coat that emphasized his broad shoulders. Then his armor to reveal a thin tunic that hide nothing of the lean body underneath, honed from years training to be a swordsman.
And then off came the tunic, fluttering from his shoulders like wings to reveal pale, smooth skin so different then his own scarred flesh. Then went his belt and trousers until he was naught but in his undergarments, and Azog knew he should turn his head, should look away, but he could not. So he stayed.
And then, as if he could sense his presence and wishes to give a good show, Thorin reached up to the sky, back muscles rippling under glowing, smooth skin. And then down he went, bending to touch his toes so Azog was presented with an eyeful of his ass, pale from the lack of sunlight and so, so soft looking.
And Azog was sure he had been found out when Thorin let loose a groan as he rose, rolling his shoulders and sighing, a sound that went straight to Azog's belly as he imagined pulling such noises from his lover in a different setting.
But then…then slowly his lover waded into the river before completely submerging himself. For a moment or two, Azog held his breath, waiting to see what would happen next. And as if a siren from the deep, Thorin rose, back arched and hair flying like black silk in the wind, as he let out the most beautiful sounds of contentment. It took all of Azog's self control not to run forth and carry his lover away to ravage him stupid.
It was only after watching for a few good minutes that Azog was finally able to command the use of his limbs and took off into the woods, the sight of his könül rising from the water, bare as the day he was born, and glistening in the spring sun burned into his eyes.
He collapsed against a tree and attempted to will his arousal away. But every time he closed his eyes all he could see was his könül. His strong and agile figure. His smooth pale skin slick with water. His face relaxed as he submerged himself in the cool spring.
Oh… How sweet his dwarf would look in arousal. His smile sweet and eyes glazed. His body would be utterly relaxed as Azog drank in the sight of him.
Shaking his head, Azog attempted to ride his mind of such thoughts. He had yet to earn Thorin's hand. They were not even courting. And to have seen his könül so vulnerable… He knew not all kept to the older customs of chastity and he was no innocent himself, but he was king and his Thorin deserved more respect than this.
But still… He could not remove the image from his mind. That smooth, pale skin, unmarked by war shinning softly in the sun like the most precious of gems. His hair, free of braids, swooping along his backside and floating along the river like a halo. The sound he had made when he had entered the stream, the low soft moan that had carried through the air and settled low in Azog's stomach.
With shaking hands, he undid the lace of his beeches and wrapped a hand around his hardening cock.
He can see it. The way Thorin would look spread out on their marriage bed. Dressed in the finest that Ev had to offer his beloved, Azog would carefully peel back each layer of cloth and kiss every inch of skin, a gift in its own right. He would worship his beloved like the deity he was with tongue and teeth and fingers wet with spit stolen from his beloved's mouth until Thorin lay breathless, hopelessly aroused and bare in front of him.
Thorin would whine and moan, soft and sweet, But he would not ask for more even as his body arched up into his touch. He would never beg. His pride to great…but not for long.
Slowly and carefully, Azog would open up his love with first tongue and then fingers. Thorin would be bashful. That sweet blush he'd been able to catch a glimpse of here and there would stain his cheeks red from arousal and shame as he protest.
But Azog would ignore him, busy enjoying his taste and smell and touch. The way his Thorin squirm above him, unaware that such an action so dirty could be so pleasurable. He'd make this beautiful face, as if he were in pain. And the noises he'd make…
Azog bit his hand to stifle a moan as he increased his speed. Letting his head rest back against the trunk and closed his eyes, sinking back into his fantasies.
Then Azog would curl his tongue just so and he'd clamp down, whole body coming alive, humping the air like a she-Warg in heat.
And when he knew Thorin was good and ready, when his voice had begun to just edge desperate, he'd add a finger. Not at first though, first it'd be a pressure light and then growing harder and harder the more Thorin squirmed. Until finally, he pushed in.
It would be tight. Östa, he'd be so tight it would burn for all the oil he'd applies. Azog would go as slow as he could, pushing in until the knuckle and letting Thorin adjust to the intrusion before pulling out. Shifting up, Azog would lean over and take Thorin's cock in hand and stroke slowly.
After a while, Thorin would relax, a whole body shudder as he settled back into his pleasure. Time would pass as Azog enjoyed the sight of his lover thrusting down in his finger before adding a second. Again, he would let it sit for a while before slowly working his lover open, opening his fingers as wide as he could, thrusting every now and then much to Thorin's delight.
And then finally, Azog would add the third. It would sting again, Thorin's ass clenching around the intrusion. And Azog would curl his finger's up to find that spot and Thorin would scream, back arching as Azog applied steady pressure.
Until finally he couldn't take it and Thorin would come from the assault on his prostate, untouched and violent. And Azog would be ruthless, stabbing and pressing throughout his orgasm until Thorin lay utterly spent and twitching.
Azog let lose another series of moans as he smeared his pre-cum up and down his shaft, picking up speed as he went until he was rutting into his hands. Azog could just imagine Thorin's face screwed up in pleasure, mouth open and eyes closed.
And once, Azog was sure Thorin had calmed enough, he'd remove his fingers -much to Thorin's annoyance - before he slicked his cock.
Positioning in front of Thorin's entrance, he'd look up and ask "Are you sure?"
There would be a pause, a brief moment for Thorin to weigh his sincerity, before nodding, "Yes."
And then gone would be the gentleness as Azog rammed his cock inside, not pausing for his lover to adjust as he fucked him into the mattress.
Azog knew he wouldn't be lasting very long as he thrust harder and faster into that willing, sweet body beneath him. And Thorin would be just as desperate as he rocked forward, wrapping his strong legs around Azog's waist and clawing at his back. They'd kiss, messy and wet and sinfully dirty as Thorin moaned into his mouth, all shame gone.
Shifting, he'd change the angle so he was pounding against Thorin's sweet spot, it would only a half a dozen brutal thrusts before Thorin came with a scream of his name.
And with a mighty cry, Azog came as he squeezed his hand tight in a cheap imitation of how he imagined Thorin would feel as he tightened when he came.
Cleaning himself up, he stood on shaking legs. It was decided. He would have Thorin by his side by the next full for he would not survive much longer without his Thorin.