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Bilbo supposed it had started on the mountain. Or, at least, the very beginning traces of it. Of course, if he had known at the time just what kind of relationship he would be entering with Thorin, King Under the Mountain, he probably would have just fainted, but he hadn't known, so he had just hugged him back and smiled, happy to be accepted. It wouldn't be until much later, when Thorin had finally just pushed him up against a tree and ravished him very thoroughly, that Bilbo realized how much his life was going to change.
The first few days had been rough; at least, rough on Bilbo’s small (perfectly respectable, thank you very much, but Thorin was built like a bear), hobbit body. Thorin jumped him whenever they were alone, and he was vicious. It didn’t matter if they were only obscured from the company by a few bushes or a little bit of water, or if Bilbo was so exhausted that he was literally falling asleep in the middle of sex. Thorin seemed to be constantly horny, and while Bilbo loved his new found relationship with the would-be king, he was 100% OK when the rough, sexy, passionate affair bubbled down a bit. Oh, they still had sex – they still had lots of sex – but Bilbo now got to see a side of their leader that he had never thought existed.
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Bilbo sighed contently as calloused fingers ran softly through his hair. It had grown long since he had left the Shire, so Thorin had offered to braid it for him. Bilbo had been intrigued; he loved learning about dwarvish customs, and the idea of braiding had interested him since the dwarves first arrived at Bag End. He had consented, and it was surprisingly soothing. The fingers were exceedingly gentle, never pulling tighter than a light tug, and Bilbo enjoyed being able to sit and relax with the sun on his face and his beloved to his back. He hummed, and a hand came down to caress his cheek.
“I’m done, love,” the deep timbre was soft, and Bilbo rose lazily, stretching. He turned to look at Thorin, and smiled. The king reached up to touch the braids.
“You look lovely,” he rumbled with a hint of adoration and leaned down to rub their noses together. Bilbo blushed and giggled lightly, linking his hands behind Thorin’s head and pulling him in for a lingering kiss. He heard a snort from behind them but ignored it in favor of tugging his king in closer and melting into his chest.
‘Whatever am I going to do to repay him?’ Bilbo thought somewhere in the back of his mind, but was quickly distracted by a probing tongue making its way into his mouth.
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It was the third day after Thorin had braided his hair, and they were trudging along a rather high and barren plateau. The ponies were being given a rest, and were being led in a line at the back. Bilbo was walking behind Balin and in front of Dwalin, and was deep in thought. The little hobbit was pondering over his lover and that nagging question that had been lurking in the back of his mind for days. What could he do? He hadn’t anything useful to give to him, nor had he brought along anything that was worthy to gift to a king. He grumbled a bit, shifting his pack, and happened to glance over to his left. Suddenly, he had an idea. He quickly slipped out of line (Balin called after him, but he simply waved for the dwarf to take his place) and ran over to the one of the sparse bushes. He had noticed them earlier, and had wondered at the beautiful flowers that grew on such a bare plant. They were a dark red, rather small, with feathery petals and slender pollen stalks. At the time, he had thought of nothing more than that they would provide him with something to look at over the course of the no doubt boring day, but now he had a better idea. He picked several of the flowers and put them in his bag before quickly slipping back into line.
“Whatdy’a need those for, burglar?” Gloin asked curiously from behind Bilbo, and the hobbit blushed and smiled. He thought he heard Gloin grumble something about sappy kings and their sappier consorts, but he just fingered the flowers and hoped Thorin would like his gift.
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They set up camp in a little group of trees that night. Bombur immediately started up a fire and set about cooking, and once the bedrolls had been set up, firewood collected, and a watch schedule chosen, Bilbo took the flowers out of his bag and approached Thorin.
“Hello, my little thief,” Thorin said, eyes twinkling, before pulling him into a kiss. Bilbo hummed happily, and when they broke apart, tugged Thorin over to one of the logs they had set up around the fire.
“Sit,” he commanded, and Thorin sank down onto the log obediently, grinning.
“Yes, sir,” he replied, and Bilbo swatted him lightly on the chest. Thorin caught his hand and pressed a kiss onto his palm, eyes looking up playfully at Bilbo, and the hobbit giggled. There was a retching sound and a faint exclamation of ‘disgusting’ from somewhere behind them, and Thorin raised his eyebrows at someone over Bilbo’s shoulder.
“Really, Dwalin, I wouldn’t think you one to scoff at displays of affection, as I distinctly recall catching a certain red haired lad in a rather comfortable position on your lap not too long ago,” Thorin said, voice light and amused, and Bilbo heard someone he presumed to be Dwalin give an embarrassed cough and clear his throat loudly. Thorin looked back up at Bilbo smugly. Bilbo giggled again, before reaching for the flowers he had put in his pocket. He hesitated slightly.
“Close your eyes,” he said softly. Thorin looked confused but obeyed, and Bilbo quickly reached up and unbraided one of the braids near the kings face. Thorin stiffened, but relaxed when Bilbo shushed him and rubbed a soothing hand down his neck. He took out the flowers and easily redid the braid, but this time he weaved the flowers into it as well. He then pulled Thorin up and guided him over to the small stagnant pond next to the trees.
“OK, you can open your eyes now,” he said, and Thorin looked over questioningly at Bilbo. He pointed to the pond, and Thorin glanced down at his reflection. Bilbo shifted nervously. He hoped the king liked it; he wasn’t sure what else he could get him, but he supposed he could try and find another-
A hand came up to yank Bilbo forward, and he was pulled into a kiss that was so spine-tingling and toe-curling his knees would have given out if it weren’t for the solid chest and strong arms holding him up. When they pulled away, Thorin was looking at him with adoring eyes, and Bilbo smiled shyly.
“You like it?” he asked, looking up at Thorin through his eyelashes. The king rubbed his thumb over Bilbo’s jaw gently.
“I love it,” he replied softly, and wrapped Bilbo up in a hug, resting their foreheads together. Oin promptly ran into the trees to throw up while the rest of the dwarves plugged their ears, turned their backs, and grimaced. This was going to be a long journey.
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The pony had run off in the middle of the night, so quietly that Ori, who had been on pony-watching duty and had taken the time to get some knitting done, hadn’t noticed that it was gone until Thorin came over red faced and bellowing about ‘useless dwarves who can never keep track of the damn horses’ and ‘if one of this company so much as goes within a mile of a troll, they will be skinned and made into a welcome mat’. Ori trembled and apologized profusely, and Thorin finally just sighed and waved him off, rubbing the bridge of his nose in annoyance. Now, of course, one of the company would have to walk, and it would slow down everyone else.
“Ori,” he barked sharply, turning swiftly to face the still shaking dwarf, “you will take the first shift walking, as you were the one to let a pony slip through your grasp,” Ori nodded dejectedly and sadly packed up his belongings. Thorin looked over to Bilbo, who was obviously having a very intense internal struggle, and the hobbit looked back up at him before making his way over to Thorin. The king smiled when Bilbo grabbed his hand; just being near his One softened his mood, and he leaned down to press a kiss to the curly top of the hobbits head. Bilbo looked up at him with big eyes.
“Thorin, couldn’t you and I just share a pony? It would be much faster and poor Ori wouldn’t have to walk,” Bilbo asked softly, looking with pity over at the dejected dwarf. Thorin felt his heart warm. Bilbo was always so compassionate. It only made him lovelier, and Thorin found himself agreeing easily to the hobbits request before giving him another kiss, this time on the cheek, and reveling in the pretty blush that spread across his face.
And so they were off, Bilbo nestled in front of Thorin, Ori still sniffling and the rest of the dwarves bracing themselves for what was surely going to be the longest day of their collective lives.
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It started out innocently enough, Nori supposed, although nowadays he wasn’t sure that anything Thorin or Bilbo did could be classified as even close to innocent (at least in the sense that everything they did drove everyone else completely bonkers). Nori had the pleasure of riding directly behind the two love birds (he still wasn’t sure how he had ended up in that position), and so he saw Bilbo fiddling with the reigns only seconds before he twisted his head and asked Thorin to teach him to ride a horse in a tone that was entirely to playful for Nori’s liking. Thorin agreed way too readily, and he wrapped his arms around the hobbit in a way that was much more intimate than teaching someone to ride ought to be.
It wasn’t that the dwarves were unhappy about Bilbo and Thorin being in a relationship; in fact, they were thrilled that their king had finally found himself a consort that made him a little more upbeat. Additionally, by this point in the journey, they had all grown rather attached to the little burglar, and parting ways with him would have been painful. No, the dwarves were very happy about Bilbo and Thorin’s relationship; the thing that troubled them was what it was doing to their leader.
Dwarves are not supposed to be sweet, or kind, and they’re not supposed to giggle and rub noses, and they definitely aren’t supposed to blush (Nori swore he had seen a dusting of pink on Thorins cheeks when Bilbo had braided flowers into his hair). The fact that this was Thorin, King Under the Mountain, only made it worse. And honestly, more frightening, because it seemed as though Thorin were a completely different dwarf now.
“No, you little thief, like this,” Thorin’s adoring voice floated back to Nori, and he suppressed the urge to groan.
“Like this?” Bilbo’s high voice echoed back airily, and Thorin chuckled. Nori internally beat his head on a wall and gripped his reigns tighter.
“Do you need me to help you again?” Thorin asked lightly, and a high giggle sounded through the morning air.
“Oh, please do,” the hobbit replied playfully. Nori’s knuckles were turning white, and his teeth were clenched so hard he worried they might break.
“Flirt,” Thorin accused affectionately, and Nori saw him lean down to give a kiss to the hobbit. That was it for Nori, and he threw up his hands in defeat, let out an explosive breath of air, and collapsed forward onto the neck of the horse, the saddle horn hitting him squarely in the forehead and definitely leaving a bruise. Unfortunately, he wasn’t knocked unconscious, and so he didn’t miss the high whimper or deep groan of the sickeningly sweet couple in front of him.
He couldn’t wait until it was his turn to scout.
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Several days after the pony incident, they finally left the plateau they had been traveling across and entered the woods again. It was a welcome change for several reasons; firstly, the plateau had been fairly high, and fairly windy, and fairly cold, and not at all a pleasant environment for dwarves or hobbits (or wizards, really, though no one is entirely sure what kind of environment suits wizards the best except for high towers and foreboding castles). Secondly, they had been completely exposed to any and all enemies in the barren wasteland. The woods gave many a sense of security that the wide open spaces of a plain just don’t. The most important reason why they were all happy to be back in the woods, however, was because of water.
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The first night they were back under the cover of trees they found a river. It wasn’t a huge river, and it wasn’t very fast moving, but it was absolutely perfect. They all gulped down handfuls of the refreshingly cold liquid, and Bombur celebrated by making a thin stew that was simply delightful. After they had all eaten, they joyously shed their clothes and went running into the water.
Thorin was the last to get in, as he had tied up the ponies himself ever since that fateful night when Ori was knitting, and he was immediately tackled by a small, rather hairy ball of energy. He staggered and wrapped an arm around the hobbit, who had latched himself onto Thorin’s neck and waist. A warm mouth pressed wet kisses to his neck, and he looked down at a drenched head of curls fondly.
“Get a room!” one of the dwarves yelled over to them, and there were several snickers. Bilbo looked up at their companions and childishly stuck his tongue out at them (something a Baggins of Bag End would never do, mind you, but he was deliriously happy to be able to bathe again and found he didn’t really care about propriety at the moment). Thorin chuckled and pushed the wet mop of hair out of Bilbo’s eyes. He got a brilliant smile for his efforts, and he impulsively bent down to slant his lips against the hobbits in a damp, open mouthed kiss. Bilbo panted hotly into Thorin’s mouth, legs tightening around his waist, and Thorin shuddered, letting himself brush his thumb against a pert nipple. The hobbit groaned and shuddered against the kings, and his hands wandered down a smooth back, stopping to grope at two perfect little arse cheeks. He felt a shudder run through the small body, and, eager for more of a reaction, he let one of his fingers graze the twitching opening he longed to stretch wide around his cock. Tiny hips canted down slightly, and a moan bubbled its way through bruised lips.
Suddenly, Thorin grinned wickedly against a sighing mouth and viciously attacked Bilbo’s sides. Bilbo shrieked with laughter, breaking the kiss and writhing around trying to get away from the king. But Thorin was determined, and lunged after the hobbit when he twisted free of his grip. Bilbo thrashed through the water, laughing and splashing Thorin, while the king chased him with a malicious look in his eyes. He caught him around the middle, and Bilbo yelped as he was twirled around into the arms and mouth of his king, who almost immediately went back to tickling his sides.
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Gloin sank down into the water with a sour face. He almost would have preferred it if they had had sex instead of tickle wars. It wouldn’t have been so upsetting to his stomach.
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Fili and Kili lay stiffly side by side, staring fixedly up at the stars and resolutely not paying attention to the noises coming from across the camp. It wasn’t the sex that bothered them; they could deal with the sex, had dealt with the sex, since their uncle spend the first four days after he and their little hobbit had gotten together fucking Bilbo whenever they weren’t traveling or fighting. No, it was the things that Thorin, King Under the Mountain, most majestic of the dwarves, wearer of the Royal Deadliest Scowl, was saying that was driving his nephews over the edge and into insanity.
Mutters of reverent ‘you’re so beautiful’ and ‘you’re going to look so lovely in a crown’ along with whiney moans and breathy whimpers floated into the night air, and it was making the brothers crazy.
“Why did uncle have to choose now of all times to go completely bonkers?” Kili hissed, “At least if we were at home we could lock ourselves in our room until the madness ends!” Fili pulled the end of his bedroll over his face and groaned.
“Thorin, y-you’re the b-best king an-anyone coul- ahh! could hope f-for,” the voice was breathless, and Kili imitated his brother, trying to think of anything except what was being said by his uncle and their burglar. It was hard enough to deal with their sappiness during the day; did they really have to intrude on his sleep as well?
“Bilbo Baggins, will you marry me?”
“For the love of-” Fili had finally had enough, and he stood up, grabbed his bedroll, and marched to the very edge of the clearing. Bofur, who was on watch, looked over at him with despair in his eyes, as his post was right next to the mound of furs and bedrolls that the king and their burglar were wrapped in, and Fili gave him a pitying look before spreading out his bedding out again. Kili was not long to join him, and once again they looked up at the stars together, stiff as boards, trying to ignore the faint mutterings that still reached their ears. Kili swore that, if they ever reclaimed Erebor, he would get back at his uncle and have sex on his throne every single day for the rest of his life.