Mead and Sex

Credit to Stravaganze

Summary:

Small fill for a prompt on The Hobbit Kink Meme: "this is rather specific but can we get some naked bilbo riding an entirely clothed thorin? even better if it's in a hasty, secretive situation."

Enjoy!

Thorin returned to his chamber with a splitting headache. He had spent most part of the evening discussing with Gandalf and Elrond about their travel and how long they would stay in the Last Homely House, with many questions about their goal and few answers about the dangers that lied on their path. All of this while the rest of the Dwarves and the Hobbit laughed, ate and enjoyed themselves with the elves' wines and beers, barely aware of what the future held for them.

It was to his surprise and irritation that he found the Hobbit in his room, a sly smirk on his lips and a drunken blush on his cheeks. Right what Thorin didn't need.

"Go away, Halfling, I have no time to hear your complains about the rest of the Company, or that you want to go back home," he said harshly.

But Bilbo laughed and moved from the wall against which he was leaning, stepping forward on wobbly, short legs.

"I came not to complain, oh King of the Dwarves!" he started to say with a merry laugh. To Thorin, that already sounded too mocking. "I came to tell you that your presence is required at the celebration held by the Elves tonight!"

It took Thorin two steps to reach the spot where Bilbo was standing, and he loomed over the short Hobbit threateningly. "Celebration? What is there to celebrate?" he asked.

Bilbo laughed of a juvenile laugh and shook his head. "Being alive! Arriving here! We're lucky to have a bed tonight!"

Thorin snorted and turn around, starting to take his armour off. "We have been lucky Gandalf came back for us."

Bilbo scoffed and crossed his arms, the movement causing him to sway slightly. "It wasn't all Gandalf's doing, you know!"

"And now you're implying that I should thank you?" he asked gruffly, hoping the usually easily scared Hobbit would flee just at that.

"It would be enough of a thank you to see your grumpy face at the party!" Bilbo insisted, before hiccupping drunkenly.

Thorin shook his head as he removed his heavy belt and his mail, sitting then on the bed to take his heavy boots off. "I can tell you already had too much of a party, Hobbit. Go rest."

But little did the future King Under the Mountain know that Hobbits are very stubborn and persistent creatures, especially with the help of alcohol, when their fears were chased away. In fact, Thorin heard a shuffle of clothes and felt a weight resting on his mattress, and he turned to find Mister Baggins without his trousers on.

"What do you think you're doing, now? Be gone, at once!"

Bilbo's reply was an indignant scoff, and the Halfling was soon rid of his elegant jacket and unbuttoning his waistcoat. "You, oh Thorin Oakenshield, may your beard never get white, have got the most luxurious and comfortable room, even when I saved you all and would deserve it," Bilbo started, his words a bit more slurred than before. "I know you still think little of me, and that Dwarves' pride is hard to break, but if you won't thank me I'll accept your silent gratitude for the use of this bed!"

Thorin looked at the Hobbit with a thick eyebrow raised and something akin to amusement glittering in his eyes. "Oh, really? I should feel honoured that you are so indulgent, shouldn't I Master Baggins, may your feet always be warm?"

Bilbo barked a small laugh as he collapsed on the bed, pushing his waistcoat from the edge of the bed. If he noticed the mocking tone, he didn't say anything about it. The bed would have been more than enough for both of them, hadn't Thorin decided to keep It all to himself due to his pride, but he couldn't forcefully move Bilbo away. He was drunk, after all, and were he to hurt the little burglar, Gandalf would be cross at him: and everyone knew the last enemy you might want is a wizard.

When Bilbo had fallen silent and started breathing more heavily, Thorin saw his chance. He lifted the Hobbit carefully, decided to move him to his own bedroom, but a small squeak and a lot of wriggling told Thorin the Halfling was still awake; too bad he had decided to move him anyway.

But Bilbo pushed on his chest and started kicking, mostly in the air, debating so much Thorin had to let go of him. If only he had put this much of a fight on when he's been captured by the Trolls, he thought! With a deep intake of breath and his patience growing thinner, Thorin grabbed the front of Bilbo's shirt and shook him completely awake.

"You must return to your room at once!" he ordered, but Bilbo only chuckled and grabbed a pillow tightly, seeming intentioned to remain. The Dwarf was this close to snapping his legs, but the last thing he needed were other complaints.

So he lied down and put as much space he could between the two of them, giving his back to the Hobbit. He needed to rest, this juvenile fight could wait. He wanted to get rid of his headache, not worsen it. Eventually, he fell asleep at the sound of gentle snoring next to him.

Thorin woke up several hours later to a light weight positioned itself on his stomach. With a grunt he realised that it must have been the Halfling, and he was ready to shout at him for his lack of anything Dwarfish when a pair of small hands cupped his face and he was driven by them to a small, gentle kiss. He had barely opened his eyes by then, startled as the dying fire draw dark shadows in every crease of Bilbo's body.

He could see all of them, now, for the Hobbit had unbuttoned his shirt and was completely bare on top of him, the thin clothing dangling from his shoulders. Thorin grabbed one hem of the shirt, decided to pull it back on, when he caught Bilbo's eyes: they were darker than usual, and if his hands on his cheeks and their forehead nearly touching meant anything, he thought he knew why.

Bilbo moved his arms and slid out of his shirt, which Thorin threw on the bed beside them. This was interesting. Did ale have this effect on every Hobbit? Would Bilbo have crawled on top of any other dwarf, had he not been in Thorin's chamber? And how could he push him away, reject him, without hurting him physically or emotionally?

"Mister Baggins," he said in a solemn voice, only to find small fingers pressing against his lips. "I know," came a whisper in reply to his unspoken protest. "I know, just... Hush," the gentle voice said again, and Thorin nodded because Bilbo's eye already looked hurt.

He lied perfectly still as the Hobbit pressed his hands to his chest, exploring it, leaning in to kiss his lips again. Thorin didn't fight. He cupped the back of Bilbo's head with his own hand, fingers threading in soft curls as lips were bit and tongues sucked. No need to say that even though Bilbo had been the one starting the kiss, running his tongue along Thorin's lips clumsily, the Dwarf was more than ready to accept the challenge – and win it, as he kissed back with an intensity that had the Halfling trembling on top of him.

When he pulled away he was going to ask Bilbo if he was ready to come down, but as soon as he broke their lips apart a small movement had both of them gasping softly, one in pleasure and the other in surprise.

Thorin looked down between Bilbo's spread legs to find a small – but not bad for a Hobbit, he supposed – erection bobbing in the air in rhythm with Bilbo's thrusts. He lied still, but soon noticed most of the whimpers that fell from the Hobbit's soft lips weren't all of pleasure, and he glanced to see that his knees barely grazed the mattress and he lacked the necessary leverage.

Knowing he would likely regret it, Thorin thrust back against Bilbo, a sweet moan rippling from his lips before he caught them again for a slow kiss, mostly to muffle the lewd sounds the Hobbit was making. Soon, a groan of his own could be heard breaking the silence, and more followed as his own body grew interested in Bilbo's attentions and reacted consequentially. But he was to keep his dignity intact, unlike the Halfling, and so ignored his own need until Bilbo was crying out, the fruit of his pleasure soiling Thorin's shirt.

Then Bilbo fell on top of him, most likely exhausted by the mix of mead and sex; Thorin let his hands roam his narrow back for a moment, travelling down to his backside, where he lingered, before moving down his legs. He stopped at the knees and left one hand there, the other moving to the Hobbit's shoulder as he moved him down onto the other side of the mattress.

Once he was free of moving again, Thorin sat on the bed and brought a hand to his trousers, which he unbuttoned quickly with a deep breath, before he started stroking his hardened shaft. He remembered the soft, warm body lying behind him and the sounds a Hobbit would make when aroused, one Hobbit in particular. Soon he reached completion as well, cleaning himself with Bilbo's discarded shirt before lying back next to the Halfling.

The next morning he woke up first, one arm possessively curled around the Hobbit, and he wondered where this would go. If he was honest with himself, he hoped things would escalate. And maybe by the end of the quest, he and Mister Baggins would see things with the same eye.