My Treasure

Credit to Stravaganze

Summary:

Fill for The Hobbit Kink Meme: "After the defeat of Smaug, possessive!Thorin has his way with Bilbo... on top of all of that gold."

Enjoy!

(I got no idea if I had posted this already but enjoy either way!)

When the news of the Dragon's death reached Thorin's Company, no one was happier than Bilbo. It meant that his role was concluded, he had done it, and he had gained his fourteenth of the treasure. He could go home!

But soon after, the news of two armies coming for them and their treasure, with another one following suit was more than enough to have everyone's morals falling, in particular Bilbo's, which was way below his hairy feet.

As if that wasn't enough, he was confronted with Thorin's less noble side. The one that longed for his family's lost treasure, the Arkenstone, currently burrowed in Bilbo's makeshift pillow. For days all the members of the Company had been busy looking for it, while Thorin arranged a military strategy with his distant cousin, helped by the Crows. Soon Bilbo was the only one left looking for the gem, all the others busy with the building of the protective wall that would soon obstruct the door.

If only Thorin knew that he already was in possession of the stone, and too scared to say it...

He was sitting on a small mountain of gold, contemplating the spot where Smaug had lied for a hundred and more years, remembering how all the metal in the room seemed to be boiling just from the beast's presence, and remembering how every Dwarf had nearly bathed himself in the treasure as soon as the danger had been declared gone.

All except Thorin, who looked around for the Arkenstone. An unpleasant feeling of guilt had nested itself in Bilbo's chest, knowing how much it meant to the King to get that shining stone back. But he couldn't...!

Suddenly, a clatter of golden coins avalanching from a pile near the entrance to the Dragon's den had Bilbo jumping on the spot and turning around with his heart hammering against his ribcage. He had grown so used to fearing every noise, that even now they were safe in the Lonely Mountain he couldn't help but reach for his sword. That was now lying on his bedroll, near the entrance of the mountain. Right.

But Bilbo had nothing to fear. It was Thorin, most likely looking for his treasure again. He didn't even bother standing to greet him: the Dwarf had grown more and more grim with every day spent in the mountain's depths, and Bilbo doubted he was still in his grace. He probably didn't even respect him as he had started to do as he proved his value during their adventure.

Surprisingly enough, Thorin walked towards him. Maybe it was time to prepare some supper? The Hobbit briefly thought about the fact that he was supposed to be looking for something, which he wasn't. He was preparing himself to reply to the King's scolding, when Thorin stopped before the pile of gold he was sitting on. Bilbo moved around so he could sit facing the Dwarf, surprised to see him smiling.

"You seem to be comfortable," he spoke. "I think I prefer seeing you sitting on my treasure rather than the Dragon."

Bilbo chuckled despite himself, glad to see that Thorin still valued that bit of friendship that had been born between them.

"I can't see how he managed to sleep on here for years, I wouldn't even nap on something so uncomfortable!"

Thorin eyed the gold and nodded, seeming thoughtful. Then he proceeded to take his cape off, and draped it across the treasure, beside Bilbo. "This should be enough."

Bilbo supposed Thorin would sit next to him, maybe start talking, tell a story about the glorious past of his people. Or maybe he was about to thank him for all he'd done, Bilbo thought. Not that he hadn't, but... It had been very formal, very royal, when the Hobbit, simple creature as he was, would have preferred a couple of heartfelt words rather than the speech Thorin had held with the rest of the Company.

To his surprise, Thorin lifted him and moved him so he was sitting on the cape, the gold feeling uncomfortably cold under the cloth. Bilbo shifted back to his previous spot, where he had dug himself a quite comfortable seat. He looked up at Thorin, frowning, only to find his hands pushing him down against the treasure, the coins and jewels digging in his back.

"What-?" he started, only to be interrupted by the Dwarf.

"This is my treasure hall, and I plan on enjoying my treasure even if I can't leave the mountain at the moment," he said. It only served to fuel Bilbo's confusion. "You are on my treasure. I believe this makes you part of it."

Bilbo's mouth fell open and his eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to protest only to find his lips pressed against Thorin's. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to push away the taller man, but he was ready to bet that he didn't even feel his non-vocal protest.

When he could breathe again, Bilbo tried to talk again, only to be silenced by Thorin's mouth on his neck. He yelped, the scrape of beard against his soft skin unfamiliar to the Hobbit.

Thorin's hands were soon on his body, stroking and groping, undoing his trousers and pulling them down with his undergarments, calloused fingers tracing paths on his quivering thighs. Bilbo was flushed and panting when Thorin let his fingers slip under his shirt, brush past his stomach and up to his nipples, pinching them enough to make him yelp.

"There is only one thing in this room that I desire more ardently than the Arkenstone," Thorin said in a deep voice, blue eyes darker than Bilbo had ever seen them. His breath hitched as Thorin unbuttoned his shirt, caressing his chest and down to his hips. For a moment, Bilbo was sure he saw his lips move to form the word 'Beautiful', but he was sure to be wrong; which doesn't mean he didn't blush.

Then Thorin took a handful of golden coins and gems, and let them fall gently on Bilbo's exposed body, smiling when some of them stopped on his skin. He brushed his thumb right below his navel, where a sapphire had found itself at home.

The Hobbit wasn't sure if he was still breathing, or if he had died without noticing: this should have been embarrassing, but somehow it wasn't. Being showered in gold by a King, being eyed like he was the most precious of prizes, that was much more of the simple thank you he was hoping in.

Thorin dug in his pocket and produced a bottle of olive oil, and Bilbo briefly thought that he wouldn't be able to put any in tonight's soup as the Dwarf covered some fingers in it. It took him a long moment to realise the implications of what Thorin was doing, and by the time he did Bilbo was gasping softly as a large finger probed at him. A strong hand gripped his thigh and spread his legs, Thorin's hip keeping the other from closing, and a hot mouth bit at the pointy tip of his ear.

"You are part of my treasure," Thorin said huskily, his voice enough to send shivers of arousal down Bilbo's spine. "My precious Hobbit. My burglar. My Mister Baggins."

Bilbo found himself relaxing at these – he supposed, for a Dwarf – loving words, and soon he was gripping Thorin's shirt, his short arms barely encircling his torso enough to reach his back, moaning softly as he was being opened.

He thought deliriously about staying there after the war with the Elves and Men would be averted, with Thorin, and nearly laughed as he thought of the words 'home' and 'Hobbit hole'. But quite luckily for him, soon he was being stretched furthermore, another careful finger trying to wriggle its way inside his body.

Bilbo moaned and parted his legs as far as they would go, Thorin's lips lacing on his collarbones as he tried not to lose that bit of respectability he was left with; it didn't took long for him to give it up.

After excruciatingly long moments of preparation, with the large room's silence broken only by gasps and moans, Thorin pulled his fingers away and caused Bilbo to whimper in loss. The Hobbit watched dazedly as Thorin removed the belt around his waist and lifted the heavy shirt he wore over more simple, woollen trousers. Bilbo trembled in anticipation as Thorin lowered the fabric to expose himself, and stared in wonder: how had he never been more interested in this?

He observed cautiously as Thorin coated his erect member in a thick strata of oil, and steeled himself as he was pulled by the waist closer to the edge of the golden pile, a few coins rolling to the floor. No one paid them any attention, though, not when Thorin's erection was pressing against Bilbo's entrance. The Hobbit was surprised at how easy the oil made matters, moaning as Thorin slipped with little resistance inside his body.

Bilbo could only grip his shirt more tightly and moan, fighting against his instinct of tightening his muscles, of closing up and pushing out that intruder. As if he could be a match against Thorin's strength. Soon Bilbo was so delirious with sensations that he couldn't tell where he ended and where the Dwarf started. But he could tell as soon as the other started to move, causing him to yelp in pain at first; soon however the burn subsided, and he was left with a pleasurable slide of skin against skin, of in and out, of nerve endings on fire and muffled sounds of appreciation.

The Hobbit wondered if Thorin was just silent or if his own voice was covering the sounds he made, and the answer to his question came as his voice reverberated loudly in the chamber, a marvellous sensation shaking him from head to toes at a particularly angled thrust of Thorin's hips. That thrust soon became two, ten, thirty, and Bilbo soon lost count as he closed his eyes and let himself drown in the sensation, the gold under his back feeling warmer than it had been when the Dragon slept on it. For a moment, Bilbo was afraid it was going to melt, but then wondered whether he would melt first or not.

In a way, he did: Thorin broke his silence with a deep moan, and that was all Bilbo needed to be shoved off the cliff he was hanging desperately onto. He felt a high that not even flying on an Eagle's back had gave him, and he desired never coming off of it as he tangled a hand desperately to Thorin's dark locks. He pulled at his hair, and with another moan the Dwarf spilled his seed inside him, leaving both of them panting.

Bilbo wasn't sure if a year or two had passed between the end of his orgasm and the moment Thorin slid out of him. He felt an even greater sense of loss, and he gave himself a moment to be eyed with satisfaction by the King before propping himself on his elbows. The sapphire still resting in his navel rolled down and stopped at the base of his softened shaft, and Thorin picked it up to slip it in his own pocket as a reminder of this happening.

He then turned and left, leaving Bilbo half naked on his pile of gold, as if he belonged there with his treasure.