burgling | I never knew daylight could be so violent

I never knew daylight could be so violent

"I come from under the hill, and under the hills and over the hills my paths led. And through the air. I am he that can walk unseen. I am the clue-finder, the web-cutter, the stinging fly. I was chosen for the lucky number. I am he that buries his friends alive and drowns them and draws them alive again from the water. I came from the end of the bag and no bag went over me. I am the friend of bears and the guest of eagles. I am the Ringwinner and Luckweaver. I am the Barrel-rider."

Bilbo had been starting to find himself quite pleased with his riddles, as pleased as a Tookish hobbit can be when facing down a dragon of swirling gold eyes and dark red, blood like skin. His heart aches where it rests under the Ring. The whispering ring. The ring that catches the gaze of Smaug who smiles -- for all dragons can smile, though it is a rare occurrence -- and tilts his head on his pile of gold.

"I was to say that some of those don't sound so credible," he scoffs playfully. "But these last sound better. Don't let your imagination run away with you." No dragon can resist riddled talk, after all, but it is not riddles that Smaug wants now.

The Ring whispers to him and promises him more than any gold found in Erebor if he waits. If he breathes his magic like fire into the halfling's heart, there will be no way to stop him from having all the gold in Middle Earth from now until the end of all time.

And this is exactly what Smaug does, for one does not ignore a ring of power, not clever dragons at least who were there before their forging, and who sang their songs before such things could be known.

Bilbo sinks into himself, into the golden eye, slips between the hollow of the ring, and when the hobbit returns to the group of thirteen, he is no longer their lucky number. His eyes burn gold.

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The ton actually causes the halfling to shiver. "I would want to be with no other," he whispers against lips now swollen from the pressure of the kiss. "Don't let me go, Thorin." And he licks the corner of the king's mouth, hips pressing downward expectantly. "Don't ever let me go anywhere you don't go."

Sex is a powerful motivator. Bilbo had never realized it, a bit of a late bloomer, and hobbits have never really thought to do it. Their deceptions usually come with the offering of a nice pie first!

So Bilbo's fingers drop to the wide ancestral belt that Thorin wears and gives it quite the mighty tug to attempt to remove it. "I dare say what might happen to me otherwise."

Oh that does have a very satisfactory feeling settle in him, the way the hobbit shivers, his declaration of not desiring any others. His hands move now to settle on thighs, rubbing over them and up to Bilbo's hips.

"By order of this king, and request of a lover, you are not to leave my side. For no matter." He wanted Bilbo with him at all times, no matter what. He was his un-official confidant as it was, no doubt official soon enough. He dips his head down, nuzzles against a pointed ear and speaks, voice low as his hands shoo Bilbo's away to handle the buckle of his belt.

"You would not wish to displease your king, would you?"

Oh Thorin. You are not his king. Bilbo's smile is an answer to that particular sentiment, but the dwarf is allowed to falsely misinterpret it. He'll say no word otherwise as small fingers trail over the seam down the front of Thorin's trousers. "I aim to please you tonight," Bilbo replies, another kiss having come and gone. "And every night. Until you or life tires of me."

Go one, Thorin. Remember how very small and weak hobbits are. Remember that he will not be with you forever. That way, when he outlasts his kind, you'll be forever in his pocket.

And the Ring will seek out it's true master through you.

"But enough talk. I'd like to be out of these clothes."

He may not be, but he would like to be. Mayhaps one day Bilbo will consider him that, but for now he's fine with this.

Words, words have been something that have effected him the most as of late, even if he's not realized. Bilbo's mention of life tiring of him makes him realize his mortality, that his hobbit will not last as long as him. It makes his chest tighten and to try and ignore it he'll insist on a harsh kiss, teeth and tongues and just needing to remind himself that Bilbo is here. He's here with him and he's not leaving him.

He won't.

Thorin does however work to help Bilbo out of his clothes, at least his top for now, any bit of skin exposed he'll attack with his mouth, lavishing it, kissing, nipping, and beard scratching. If he consumes him completely like this than he will never grow older, he will never leave him.

Right?

In theory-- No, Thorin, even in theory, that won't work. But don't worry. Bilbo with be with you for a very, very long time. First, however, he needs to climb out of your lab. Let him. It's for a good cause. While he's shimming out of his trousers, you ought to do the same. He'll be back in a moment, spit slick hand already pressing and pushing against the dwarf's entirely too massive cock.

There will be some...trouble. But don't worry. Bilbo will heal. The Ring knows all of the best ways to relieve that sort of burn.

And the one he feels now? Well, Thorin can relieve that one himself.

Thorin does not relinquish his hobbit without some hesitation, watching him as he tugs off his trousers. He does not remove his, but he does get them undone, pulls himself out and gives a few languid strokes of the thick member. Bilbo takes over and Thorin cannot complain, loving the feel of the smaller hand on his cock.

The dwarf king will most certainly help relieve the burning Bilbo feels, as he feels it as well. Desire. A strong one that has him about to fuck the halfling on his own throne, there is no stronger desire than that, is there?

"You will be my undoing, Bilbo Baggins." Thorin murmurs, drawing him in for a kiss, saying words unknowing that it is so close to the truth that he couldn't hit it on head any harder. As hands fondle the halfling's backside he'll nudge along Bilbo's neck, kissing, suckling at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

"We have no slick..." He mutters, thick fingers spreading cheeks and teasing at the hobbit's hole.

Oh dear Thorin. Sweet Thorin. One heir down and one lover no longer himself. If Bilbo is in there at all, he must be weeping. "If I am your undoing, Oakenshield," he responds strangely, "then I will rebuild you better than before."

He strokes his hands through the dwarf's thick mane as they come nearly to a union both long for -- even if the reasonings couldn't be more different. Run Thorin. Run far and run long. There is nothing you can do here to save your hobbit.

"We have saliva. And we have medicines. I will be all right. I don't want to rush off and find something better."

If only Thorin could understand the words spoken to him as being an actual threat. Actual truth. He'll never see it coming, not even when Fili is taken care of next, no doubt. It will just be another tragedy in the line of Durin. But he's not thinking of nephews or Durins or anything important like that.

No. No he's thinking about how Bilbo's skin tastes salty as he licks it, that he smells sweet, always, even now living in Erebor. There is a part of him that should tell him this does not sound like his hobbit, that Bilbo would want to be more careful about this, that he wouldn't risk doing this here, but he can't be arsed to care. Part of him sees it, but another part doesn't care and is more than happy to ignore any bells going off that should be warning him.

"Then we shall make use of what we have. Here, open your mouth--" And be a good hobbit and suck on two thick dwarf fingers.

If there is anyone in Erebor that might make this look half debauched and equally as sexy, it's Bilbo. He still has that round, innocent face. He still has his age lines and his boyish smile. Putting all of these to use by having dwarfish fingers in his mouth is enticingly beautiful. And all for Thorin.

Long strands of silver saliva trail from tongue to fingers as Thorin removes his hand and uses those fingers to begin to open him. The hobbit makes small noises but does nothing to encourage Thorin to slow down.

He can take the anguish that will follow with the pleasure.

The dwarf king had been aroused already, but watching the hobbit take his fingers into his mouth and suck them was enough to have him hard. Hard and more than ready, but he has to be patient, just a little bit longer.

Fingers now slicked with spit press into the hobbit, one first, but he doesn't wait long before the second one follows. He thrusts them in, pressing in deep, wanting to get his hobbit worked up and stretched for him.

"I want to hear your voice echo through my kingdom, Bilbo." He murmurs into his ear.

Your kingdom. For how much longer?

Bilbo sighs with pleasure that borders on pain. They've done this once. Once and with a great deal of preparation. Bilbo had still found it awkward to walk and move around even so!

He wriggles his toes as he lets himself be hefted into position and makes sure he has Thorin's full gaze as his body moves to accommodate the girth of the king! You don't need to tell him to be vocal. Bilbo couldn't keep quiet if he even wanted to!

Luckily, he most assuredly does not.

"Thorin! Ah! You split me!"

Perhaps it's exaggerated, but it does hurt. His voice echoes in the cavernous room. If Mahal does exist, he may have withdrawn the last of Thorin's grace for this.

For as long as he can keep it. Thorin does not realize the evil that lurks in his kingdom, in this very being who he has given his heart to.

Bilbo's cry does echo and it pleases him, it stirs him quite and Thorin will holds his hips, not moving, letting the halfling get used to the feeling of being split open so. It has been sometime after all.

"Can you feel me, Bilbo. How deep I am inside you? Does it not excite you?" Thorin rumbles, nuzzling an ear. He waits for the signal that the hobbit wants him to move before he does, before he helps Bilbo lift up again, before he rocks his hips up into the tight heat as the hobbit settles back down on him once more.

He groans, loudly and it echoes as well.

The process is slow, as slow as is needed, and Bilbo doesn't let himself give in to the urge to hurt this body. Thorin would feel guilt, and guilt is a powerful motivator, but he doesn't believe it to be the right one at this moment. No, he'll play into Thorin's love instead.

It's a more dangerous game, but one that will have a far better outcome if he can keep the dwarf from becoming too gold sick or too wary of the hobbit.

Sex is just the first step and Bilbo milks Thorin for as long as the dwarf can stand it, until they are both sticky with his seed, spread across joined bellies.

The first really noticeably words, other than agreeing to everything Thorin had asked of him during their session, is...personal.

Cementing.

"Will you pierce my ears, Thorin?" A dwarvish rite of passage, surely.

Their coupling is beyond good, perfect really and by the end of it Thorin is ready to drag the halfing to his bed and keep him close, snuggled under blankets and sheets. That would involve moving and right now he's not sure he can muster the desire or want to. He does circle arms around the halfling, holding him close, nose pressed into curls damp from sweat and sex.

The words asked of him don't quite sink in right away, it takes a moment before Thorin's hold on him loosens so he can look down at him.

"... Bilbo you do not have to do these things to please me. Understand that I care very much for you whether you are dwarf or hobbit." Yet fingers brush against the shell of one ear, curious how metal would look there.

"Unless this is truly what you wish?"

Bilbo laughs, still catching his breath as he lifts and drops heavy braids across the dwarf's shoulders and back. His lips trail to follow but he refuses to lean too far away from Thorin's chest to get the entire length of skin he seems to want to kiss. There is a secret smile now, hidden to even himself, as Thorin traces his ear.

"Has there ever been a time that I've done anything strictly to please you?" he teases. "I ask because I want it. Not to be a dwarf but to be worthy to stay in Erebor for as long as you'll have me. Not to fit in. But to honour her. To honour you. And because it means something to you and therefore to me too. Pierce my ears. And agree to afternoon tea with chocolate biscuits."

A truly hobbity compromise!

"You are worthy a hundred times over without a piercing, my hobbit, all that you have done to help me reclaim Erebor..." But still, Thorin regards Bilbo's words and nods.

"Just know that this shall cement you as more than just any friend by my side, Bilbo." They've still not entirely come out publicly, the company had known, but anyone else it was still kept secret. Though if any were so blind to not see how fond Thorin was of the hobbit then it was their fault for not realizing. Fingers touch at Bilbo's hair next, behind his ear.

"Tea and biscuits... and would you allow me to braid your hair as well? Then no one would be uncertain of your worth to me." Bilbo would wear his beads as well and he would be a very special hobbit indeed.

This is perfection. Nothing Bilbo could ever hope for himself could equate to the way that this is happening. It's amazing, truly amazing, how deeply in love with him the dwarf could be. Bilbo's smile turns into a smirk, hidden still against the king's throat.

"If you braid my hair, that means your intentions are beyond courting me, Thorin Oakenshield. Is that what you want?"

He knows without being told how important this is. Thorin may assume that Gloin had been speaking about courtship with his wife. Perhaps Bofur spoke of the failed courtship he'd had just before coming to be part of the Erebor fellowship.

Smaug knows, however. The Ring knows. Both are so terribly pleased.

"Will I wear the beads of your house or will you have my own designed?" Dwarven marriages are strange things with many, many steps and many more customs than that.

Bilbo draws back now to gaze into Thorin's eyes as the dwarf softens within him.

"I would not ask it if I was not serious." Thorin assures him, he's more than pleased that Bilbo realizes what he's asking of him. That he does not seem at all displeased by the idea of it.

He assumes that Bilbo had heard of it from the others, if not asked about it on his own, curious hobbit he is. The idea of that only makes Thorin smile.

"Both, if you are fine with it." He would like a part of him to always be with Bilbo, but the halfling deserved his own design, after all he'd done. One hand rests along the small of Bilbo's back as he draws back some, the other coming up to cup one of the halfling's cheeks.

He loves you. He loves you so very much, Bilbo. It would tear him apart to lose you.

"So you are all right with this?"

"I knew it would be like this from the moment you stepped into my home," Bilbo says, cheek cupped in Thorin's hand, eyes bright and clear. "I knew despite the protests and the hardships and the constant fear of being eaten before my own next meal that I would never wish for a moment to be apart from you." There's no lie here, not from Bilbo. The Ring has other plans, but the emotion inside of the halfling has never once been more true.

Love. Oh, he loves. He loves, despite being forever stunted. That's why taking him over has been so easy. So devilishly easy.

"Bag End was never my home. I never felt there as I've felt with you. I've no reason to return, unless you are with me. The piercings, the braids, tea--" He has to smile at that. It's just very hard to smile genuinely when he sees the look in Thorin's eyes and wants to cackle giddily. "They're outward signs of what we know ourselves to be. I'm yours. You're mine. Always."

Thorin frowns ever so slightly at some of the things he says, unsure.

"From the moment... but Bag End was your home, you thought of it throughout our journey, missed it, wanted to go back." Still, as much as those words linger on something that should bother him, he does smile a little with Bilbo.

"This dwarf is happy to be yours and pleased that you are his."

"I hadn't seen the world. And then I'd only see the terrible and the horrible. But now-- I could never stay happy there in the solitude Thorin. You've been to battle. You must know what it's like."

Bilbo takes the time to dress himself, though he will smell like the dwarf all evening until he finds a quiet moment to bathe. If he even chooses to. He likes the idea of letting the others know what he's been doing.

Getting dressed can not come at a better time as Thorin's surviving heir has decided to come from his sick bed to pay call to his uncle.

Bilbo will make himself scarce for this. He has some exploring to do.

Thorin will soon present Bilbo with beads he's made for him. One that is of his own, another that he's had made especially for the halfling, both symbolize just how important he is to the king. Everyone will know now, especially with Thorin also braiding his hair. Bilbo is not just any hobbit who is a friend of their king. He his is one.

Plans for a wedding are soon set in motion and while most try to show good face about it all, it's clear enough most are not pleased by this. Thorin cannot wed this hobbit, it's... it's insane really. He should find a queen, that is what kings do is it not? More importantly a dwarven queen. There are some who've made it clear they're not at all impressed by this turn of events, Balin and Dwalin have already come to Thorin, and while they like Bilbo all the same it isn't proper to continue this way. Balin tries to be kind about it, Dwalin is not so much. Even Fili, who loves his uncle very much and had grown very attached to the hobbit during their journey, tries to ask Thorin if he's so sure that this is the right thing to do.

It is after much of this that Thorin has drink in hand and angrily simmers in his chambers, Bilbo is welcome to join him or not, and he will most likely notice the king's displeasure if he ventures in.

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I never knew daylight could be so violent

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