multifandom account. I also write sometimes.

You were no dwarf, however your ancestors had been one of the handful to escape Dale. Not many men survived the day Smaug attacked that city, the ones that had were forced to relocate to a town on the nearby lake. Not your family. For as long as you could remember you’d been travelling merchants, convinced that one day - some day - your family could lay their roots back in Dale.

After all, even dragons couldn’t live forever.

You’d overheard the exiled dwarf-king Thorin speaking with the grey wizard Gandalf at an inn. An accident really. You were there on your own business, but you couldn’t help insert yourself into the conversation.

You had convinced them - though Gandalf was on board with a lot less convincing - to go back to your own kin and try and rally them to join too. Thorin was to meet with representatives from seven kinds of his kinfolk, and between them and your ever-growing clan of man you could amass enough bodies to take back both the city of Dale and the mountain. You’d left with a pep in your step, convinced yourself that it would be an easy feat.

It was not.

You’d forgotten the last person to be as convinced as you that your family would return home was your grandfather, and he was laid in an unmarked grave at a wayside. No one else thought it possible except you.

Remembering the feeling that settled in your stomach when they looked at you like you were a little girl with a foolish idea still made you feel sour and heavy. Worse? The feeling you got when Gandalf and Thorin and all those people in Bilbo’s house looked at you when you told them you were the only one of your family to come join them.

Soaking in the hottest bath of your life in a hidden elven valley made all that feel like an age ago.

You closed your eyes. Your limbs were weightless. Steam rose and kissed your cheeks and eyelashes. The scent of healing salts and relaxing oils filled your nose. Just about anyone could walk in on you at that moment and you’d care very little.

Eventually someone did walk in, two she-elves, and you spent the rest of your time in the bath with them both carefully untangling and washing your hair. They had the patience of angels, and fingers that worked like magic. They almost put you to sleep.

By the time dinner rolled around, you were wandering the halls behind your escort like you were walking on clouds. Your hair was loose, and they’d given you slippers and a temporary gown to wear while someone mended and washed your clothes. Both must’ve been made with the same fabric, coloured like starlight and softer than silk, flowing around you like chiffon. You’d come across fabrics of many kinds in your life as part of a merchant caravan, but never for your own use, and never anything like this.

You felt like you were in a dream. You felt like a princess, not the daughter of an exiled wanderer.

Walking into the balcony dinner was being served in, you stopped in your tracks. If you cared more you would’ve been embarrassed that none of your companions seemed to have had the same treatment as you.

They were still in their travel clothes, though their unwashed state wasn’t unusual - you came to learn they were messy eaters and often bathed after dinner, not before. Besides the elves, you were the only one in such fine clothes.

Though you quickly decided they must’ve declined any offer that you received of fresh clothes, and you also decided it was their loss. You’d never felt nor looked better in your life.

“Well well, don’t you sure scrub up nicely.” Bofur was the first to notice you, and the first to make a comment. You - having had any shyness melt off you during your bath - milked all the comments that followed for all their worth.

You winked at Bofur, twirled when Dwalin asked, even did a curtsy before turning away and walking over to the only unclaimed seat in the room at the table with Gandalf, Elrond, and Thorin - all with a big grin on your face.

“You made use of the hospitality.” Gandalf said, eyeing you with a cheeky look on his face as you sat down.

“I’ll have you know in some places it’s very rude not to let someone extend generosity. I wouldn’t want to disrespect our gracious host.” you replied.

“From what Mithrandir had told me you’ve all had quite a journey to get here. I’m glad to hear you made yourself comfortable.” Elrond said, gesturing toward the food and drink laid on the table. Gandalf picked up the conversation from there, you presumed about whatever small-talk they had before you walked in.

You couldn’t help how your attention drew to Thorin - it normally did, no thanks to the big fat crush you’d grown for him over your time spent on the road. This time your attention was his because he was being very, very quiet. When you caught his eyes - which wasn’t hard, since he was already staring at you - he cast his sight away at his plate so fast it was like he was burnt.

“Are you alright?” you asked, quietly, leaning closer to his side.

“I’m fine.” he said quickly, keeping his eyes fixed down, “Just trying to stomach this food.”

“Thorin,” you hissed, nearly kicking him under the table. You looked up at Elrond, who thankfully either didn’t hear or chose to ignore his comment, “These people have been nothing but kind to us, you could at least pretend to be grateful while in their presence.”

He looked at you. You were prepared for him to throw some anti-elf snark your way but instead you watched as his eyes filtered over your face and body and his face softened. He heeded your words, letting it go with a grunt.

If you wanted to get to the bottom of his strange demeanour - because he was acting strange outside the expected sourness - you’d need to corner him later.

Thorin physically felt like throwing up when you walked in on dinner. He could barely stomach any of the leaves on his plate after you sat beside him.

You were just so, so beautiful.

You were pretty, obviously so. Many of his company would treat you with more kindness or softness than they should because of it, and it didn’t go past his notice that he himself was like that too. Then you proved yourself worthy beyond your good looks.

Back when they camped at the ruined farm you’d chased after Gandalf when he and Thorin disagreed. Everyone let you go, convinced that since you held no dwarven stubbornness that you could persuade the wizard to not stray too far. It got late, and neither you or the wizard returned. It ended up being a blessing when everyone else got captured by trolls.

You’d burst through the brush and all but gorged out one of the trolls' eyes before they cornered you in turn. Thorin remembers as clear as day the way you circled on the spot and held out your sword in one hand and a dagger in the other, eyes keen and feet light. Some warrior goddess personally made by the smith sent to save them. You’d landed a few heavy blows, held your ground for a time all on your own, before your weapons were knocked from your hands - then Gandlaf saved the day and brought daylight a few inches closer before it was too late.

Thorin could also remember the way you turned to look at him - well, them all really - after. The way the sun shone past your features, like a halo with your skin glowing, and he believed for a moment that perhaps you were a she-elf who’d bewitched him. There was no way a daughter of a man could have his heart beating like a field mouse by just looking at him.

Then you walked into dinner here at Rivendell, and well… He couldn’t look at you at all.

The gown those elves put you in was a floor-length white, off-the-shoulder, with sleeves that were almost dramatically long. Showing off your collarbones as it shimmered in the evening sunlight, fitting you perfectly. It made his throat swell up and his chest tight and his palms sweat like a madman.

Not that Thorin didn’t love you in your regular travel clothes, but - wait.

Love?

Oh Mahal, this was more than just some silly fondness or superficial feelings. He was in love with you. He could feel it now, almost see it in front of him - the pull. The feeling all those before him spoke of but he was yet to believe. It tied around his heart, tight and strong and warm, and it stayed there all night long.

Even while getting Elrond to read the moon runes on map to the mountain, that underlying tug toward you once the realization awoke never once let up. It was always there, right from the moment he warmed up to you - a stranger - at the inn in Bree. It stayed all the while, lying in wait until he was able to give it a name, which by doing so he also gave it weight and, above all, power.

Dwarves were a very private kin, very rare occasions were marked for pomp and celebration, and this? This was something marked by a quiet conversation, and something to mark outwardly to only those who noticed. But you were no dwarf.

You were a daughter of man, and he had no idea how to confess that you were his One. He had no idea if you even knew what that meant.

“Thorin, can I talk with you?” Your voice jolted him from his thoughts.

You stood beyond him in the hallway, face and features lit by moonlight, which a look on your face as gentle as your words. Balin, who had been walking with him back to their temporary room, bid him goodnight. Thorin might’ve missed his quiet and knowing look if he was less careful.

Then he was alone with you.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, joining you as you shifted toward one of the alcoves. This place was full of hiding holes - if Thorin didn’t think any better he’d say they were for all the scheming of elves, but for this moment he was grateful for the privacy.

“Everything is fine with me,” you started, a wistful look upon your face before you seemed to remember why you’d called him over, “I just wanted to make sure you were alright, you were acting more stand-offish than I expected at dinner. And before you start I know you said you were fine but I don’t think you are.”

“Why might that be?” he asked, looking up at you carefully.

“Well, I don’t know. I guess I can just -”

“- feel it?” he suggested. You looked at him surprised, and slowly started nodding.

“Yes. I feel it. Is that too strange of a thing for me to say?” you asked.

“Not at all.”

“You answered that very fast.” you replied, smiling carefully, and Thorin felt his heart starting to beat faster despite how composed he was determined to remain on the outside.

“I suppose that just means I knew what to say,” he said. You hummed in reply, then lent back, waiting. “What?”

“You never answered my question.” you said. “Something is bothering you, isn’t it? You’re not usually one to beat around an answer. You’re normally so straightforward.”

“You never actually asked me anything,” Thorin was quick to say, then lent back against the wall and crossed his arms - as if that was a suitable defence for what was going to be your oncoming onslaught to his decision to keep his true feelings to himself.

There was no way he could just blurt out that he loved you, that his feelings were so deep it was as if he was made with them already engrained in his soul. He needed to wait for the right time.

“Well then, your majesty, tell me what’s bothering you.”

Thorin stood there for a moment, watching as you made yourself mirror him on the other side of your alcove. The soft look on your face, the kindness in your eyes, how that dress made you look more precious than any jewels he remembered from the mountain hoard. What was bothering him was easy to name, because it was you.

“Me?” you said, face freezing, and so did his heart.

Did he just say that? Out loud? That you were the one that was bothering him? You certainly were the one on his mind, making him act ‘strange’, but you’d never been a bother once in the whole time he knew you.

“No, I didn’t mean -” He started quickly, breathless.

“Thorin it’s fine,” you started, pushing off the wall slightly, and with your voice stiffer than before, “You’ve always been honest, I like that about you. You can be honest with me, if there’s something I’ve done to upset you I’d want to know.”

That weight in his chest, the feeling in his heart, felt like it was cracking with every word you said.

“You’ve never upset me,” he said, stepping forward as if he’d be able to stop you if you chose to leave. He would’ve reached for your hand if he wasn’t so concerned about you fading away. “You’ve never bothered me. It’s me, it’s all me. I can feel myself reacting in some certain way around you and tonight it just became too much. I didn’t know how to act, so I didn’t act in any way at all.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I feel for you is beyond love. It’s like how I feel was built into me, I’m made to feel this way about you and after years alone it’s strange how naturally it comes to me now.”

Thorin watched your face twist to one of hurt to confusion, then a hopeful kind of bittersweet, before you spoke.

“Love?”

Ah, he did say love, didn’t he.

“I suppose men have no other word for it.”

“Alright,” you started slowly, “So what word would you have for it?”

“Lansel. Amrâbulnâs. Take your pick.” He said, and he could tell from looking at your face that you had no idea what they meant. He sighed, taking a moment to translate before speaking again. He could feel heat rising to his cheeks before he even said it out loud. “Love of all loves. True love, or soul-mate.”

“Soul-mate?” you said softly, as if in a dream. He finally was able to meet your eyes again. “You believe in that?”

“We call them our Ones. That there is one person made for us and drawn to us, just us, to love. One great true love for a lifetime, only to be found once. Men do not have this?”

“For us it’s just a story. Fairy-tales. No such a thing exists for us.” Thorin felt his heart sink. Men did not have soul-mates, so they did not have Ones. Was he doomed to a one-sided all-consuming love for the rest of his long miserable life? “We do have something else, though.” you said, voice soft as you looked out the window.

“What is it?” he asked, daring to be hopeful one last time tonight before giving up.

“Black swans.”

“They do not exist.” He said, and you smiled.

“That’s what everyone thinks. One of my cousins said his father found a flock of them once, on a lake far far away. Men do not have all the knowledge in the world. Black swans can be seen as a sign that rare and unpredictable events can exist too, that impossible things aren't so just because they haven’t been seen to happen. Soul-mates may just be rare or unseen in mankind, so they perhaps are black swans too. Not non-existent, just unheard of.”

“You think yourself one of these swans?” Thorin could see your beauty liken a swan, soft and graceful.

“I think I’ve felt a pull to you since we met. I’ve felt it turn into love, a love of all other loves I’ve felt before.” you said, and Thorin could feel himself drawing closer to you as you repeated his earlier words. “It comes naturally, like I was made for it.”

“Are you sure?” Thorin asked, close enough now that he could could every one of your lashes, and every mark on your face. His question was double-edged. Were you sure about this? About him? Were you sure about how you felt?

“Yes.” you said, and he felt you lean closer. Now he could feel your breath on his lips, smell the wine from dinner and all the oils your hosts let you use on your skin during your bath. “I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life, more sure than when I forced you to say yes to me all the way back in Bree.”

He smiled. So did you, so wide and full he could almost feel it as much as he could see it. Your eyes were bright, and he felt young again.

“Alright then.” he said, feeling your hand slip into his, soft and cold compared to his large calloused fingers. “My One.”

“Amrâlime,” you said, whispering against his lips. He pulled back slightly, registering your word. He frowned, then smiled.

“You know Khazdul?”

“I’ve lived amongst you for months, and you all speak it all the time. I know a word or two.” you said, smirking.

“You could’ve said that before you made me explain myself.” he said, but all you did was laugh, light and carefree and Thorin felt his heart flutter in a way that made him feel more alive than he ever had before.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

You shuddered, pulling your thin blanket tighter around you. The temperature overnight had dropped to below freezing. You sat up, bleary-eyed, your eyes scanning the makeshift camp around you. A dwindling fire had been made in the center, its embers a faint red as they slowly died. The snow, which was blowing in from the opening to the mountain cave, had surely put it out faster than it was meant to. You crawled to it, your palms against the frozen earth as you blew softly on the embers, hoping for the slightest spark.

The fire reignited briefly, a single lick of flame extending above the soot. You quickly thrust your numb hands over it, desperate for its fleeting warmth before it quickly faded to ash once again.

You let out a small sigh of frustration, quickly followed by uncontrollable shaking as your body withstood a cold gust of wind from the opening in the mountainside. You grabbed your blanket from your sleep roll and sat as close as you possibly could to whatever was left of the fire, regretting having chosen the least protective spot in the mountain cave. You'd surely smell like smoke tomorrow, but it was either that or you freeze to death.

From the other side of camp, deeper within the cave, came the quiet crunch of heavy boots, echoing softly against the stone walls. You looked up to see Thorin, returning with a few pieces of salvaged wood. You weren't sure that he'd gotten any sleep at all yet, having wanted to scout out the deeper part of the cave for safety while the rest of the company got some much-needed rest.

"Move back," his voice came as a low rumble, hushed enough so that he wouldn't wake anyone else. You obeyed, watching him kneel by the pile of soot and ash. Where your attempts to rekindle the fire had failed, he got it flickering a little brighter in no time, blowing softly on the tiny flames as they grew.

He sat back a moment, guarding the flames from the wind with his body. You stared at them too, watching their little tongues feed on the fresh wood. It was quiet a moment, and all that could be heard was the faint crackling and muffled howls of the wind from outside.

"Have you gotten any sleep?" Thorin murmured, his eyes raised to meet yours. "It isn't safe to sleep so close to the fire."

You shook your head. "It was nearly dead, do not worry. It was the cold that kept me awake."

Thorin watched your face, the way your eyelids struggled to raise more than halfway, the whites of your eyes tinged with strain and redness, and the shadow beneath them. It looked like you hadn't slept in days. With this cold, it was likely that you hadn't. Thorin regretted not having noticed earlier.

"Will the fire be enough?" He spoke again, concern lacing his voice. It'd be no good for you or the company to be so sleep deprived. Everyone had to be at their full strength for survival until they reached the lonely mountain.

You nodded, gathering up your blanket and returning to your bedroll. It was the slightest bit better, but the tiny flames did no good for the cold that had already seeped into your bones, numbing your extremities, even casting a slight frost on bits of your hair.

Thorin kept a close eye on you as you returned to your spot against the cold cave wall, bundling yourself up to the best of your ability. But he noticed the way you continued to shudder, the fire hardly making any bit of a difference. Your eyes were closed, clearly pretending to sleep just to not worry the mind of the dwarven prince, but he couldn't watch you freeze any longer.

A warm hand peeled the blanket back from your face suddenly, and you opened your eyes to the Thorin's larger stature kneeling before you. "Come," he said quietly, his hand on your shoulder to guide you to a sitting position.

"It's alright, Thorin. It's not quite as cold anymore, I'll be able to sleep," you said quickly, not wanting to be a burden. You also feared any sort of special treatment. The other dwarves had already seen the way Thorin's eyes followed you wherever you went, trained on your every move as if to watch over you. He'd even confided in you before, speaking to you in a different way he did any of them. And they made sure you knew that they knew, teasing you any chance they got. Mainly Kili and Fili. Where it was amusing at first, it soon reduced you to a lesser member of the company, one who constantly required attention and protection from their leader. Although this was hardly true.

"You're shaking," he answered dryly, and you almost caught a bit of a smirk. Obviously you were cold, and it would be less than honorable as a prince to allow a valued member of his company to freeze in the night, especially when he could do something about it.

A pink hue flushed your features, but you accepted his arm which he offered, looping your trembling fingers around his bicep. As you stood, he draped his heavy coat over your shoulders, the heat retained from his body instantly relaxing your muscles.

He led you quietly over sleeping dwarves towards the back of the cave where his own bedroll was laid out.

"Will the coat be enough?" he asked, sitting next to his bedroll, leaving it open to you.

"Thorin, I couldn't possibly--"

"I insist," he assured, tugging on your hand slightly, beckoning you to lie down and get comfortable. "I've had more than enough sleep these past few nights. You need it."

You had to admit; the far side of the cave was significantly less freezing than where you'd been lying. And with his long coat draped comfortably over you as you curled into a ball on his bedroll -- you could almost say it was warm.

Thorin sat close by, keeping a respectful distance between the two of you. Just near enough so that the radiating heat of his body reached you, but giving you space enough to comfortably sleep.

You even began to get drowsy, your eyelids fully closing as your mind wandered.

But just as you were about the drift off into a peaceful sleep, a forceful gust of wind entered the cave, once again dimming the fire to mere embers. You stirred, making a small whimper as the cold wind stung your nose.

"Shhh," Thorin hushed you as his hand came to rest on your head, fingers softly massaging your scalp. "Go to sleep."

The familiar tune of deep, breathy moans danced across the dimly lit walls. The soft crackle of nearby fire nearly masked the squelching click that danced alongside the well-known harmony of the dwarven king's pathetic pleads.

A harmony that began to grow louder as the sturdy weight of his head sunk back into your chest, the lids of his sapphire eyes glued shut as he began to quiver.

A faint sheen of sweat glistened upon his forehead, his brows knitting together as his lips fell open. "Fuck." He gasped, feeling a familiar knot begin to weave within the pit of his stomach.

As his grip upon reality began to fade away, his grasp upon your forearm tightened - his nails embedding themselves into your skin with a bitter sting earning a hiss to grace your lips.

"Careful-" The heat of your breath caressed his ear, making a shiver roam down his spine. How cute. You could see why he enjoyed getting that reaction from you. "-or I will have to stop."

A pitiful whimper escaped his lips the moment the words slipped through yours, a whimper he attempted to mask with a groan, but it was no use - he was putty in your gentle hands.

"Please!" The word wavered upon his lips as he sucked in another shaky inhale, the muscles within his lower stomach clenching together tighter as your hand began to slow. "Please don't stop."

"Oh?" Your hand came to a halt at his plea, the corners of your lips curving upwards into a mischievous smile as the dwarven king began to whine. "And why shouldn't I?" You hummed, the heat of your breath grazing his neck. Your thumb slowly circled the aching tip of his cock as you awaited his response.

"Please, Y/N," Mindlessly bucking himself against your hand, his thick brows tightly knit together as his thrusts grew more desperate. "I need you." "Then beg for me."

The lids of his eyes slowly opened before he blinked up at you in shock, his sapphire-colored eyes completely glazed over with lust as he laid there within your grasp - mouth agape at your bold command. 

"Well? Go on then." A hiss escaped his thin lips as your loose grip upon his throbbing cock tightened, allowing you to feel every racing beat of his heart throughout it. "Beg."

"Please, Y/N." He groaned, sucking in the bitter winter air through his teeth as your hand slowly glid up his cock - torturously slow - before gliding down to the base. "Please don't stop...I'll be good."

The slight stinging tear of his nails escaping your soft skin allowed another low hiss to fall out of your lips. "I will do anything you want just, please-" The word stumbled upon his lips as he choked out a stuttered whine, his temporarily loose grip tightened around your arm as the muscles within his abs began to flutter. "Please let me cum. Please."

As the final whimpered word left his lips, your palm left his aching cock for a moment - making a pathetic whine echo dance throughout the quiet room before curling back around it again.

The weight of his head sunk further back into your chest as your hand slowly slid up and down his cock, gradually increasing in speed as your opposite hand roamed his toned body. Leaving a trail of quivering muscles behind as your smooth skin continued upon the lower path of his body.

"You look so pretty." The vibrations of your purred words sent another shiver down his spine and made his muscles tense further. Your hot breath caressed his neck as your movements gradually grew quicker, his hips mindlessly bucking upwards to match your touch as the lids of his sapphire eyes squeezed shut again.

"That's what you are, aren't you? My pretty boy." The blur of brunette hair bobbing made the smirk plastered upon your soft lips widen. The movement of your hand quickened as you traced mindless patterns with the opposite hand upon his lower abs, feeling the muscles tense alongside the familiar burn of his nails embedding into your arm again.

"Y/N, I can't-" "Then don't." You breathed into his neck, your lips hovering a breath above one of the most sensitive parts on him. "Cum for me. Now."

The entire weight of his head leaned into your chest, nearly knocking you into the bed, as the muscles within his lower abs tensed for a final time before releasing. A slew of whined moans fell out of his gaping lips as his body trembled against your touch as white, hot ropes gushed over your hand.

The dwarven king succumbed to pleasure as wave after wave wracked throughout his once tense body; the stresses of reality faded away as the only thing he could think of was the next wave ready to whisk him off again.

As he drifted away within the endless sea of pleasure, you began to press gentle kisses upon the crook of his neck - enjoying every pathetic whimper that slipped out of his parted lips due to it.

"There you go, my love. I've got you." You hummed against his neck as your grasp upon his softened cock released, earning a displeased whimper from him. "I've got you."

The pair of you stayed there in silence for a few moments as you admired your lover's trembling body within your sturdy arms. The smooth tips of your clean fingers softly traced every indent the golden hues put on display as the beautiful image of your lover safe within your grasp, in such a manner, burned into your mind.

"Thank you, amrâlimê." He breathed, the corners of his thin lips curving upwards into a blissful grin as he freed your arm from his grasp. The tips of his calloused fingers grazing over the small wounds he caused as an unspoken apology.

"Do you feel better now, Thorin?" The tone of your voice softened as you moved your clean hand up to cradle the side of his face. "Much." He hummed as he turned his head, pressing a soft kiss into your palm before allowing you to cradle his cheek.

"Now...about that anything-" "No." He stated as he lifted his head from your soft embrace, the bed creaking under his shifting weight as he slid off the bed.

"You do not know what I was going to ask for!" A low chuckle echoed throughout the room as the dwarven king stumbled to the bathroom only to return as quickly as he had left. "We shall discuss your payment another day, but for now-" He began, his calloused hands softly wiping away the white ropes that covered your hand.

"-I want to relax like a wise person has been nagging me to." His beard softly tickled your cheek as he pressed a kiss upon it, tossing the towel aside to be dealt with later before laying beside you upon the soft furs.

The sturdy weight of his head once again rested into your chest as you two lay there in peaceful silence. Not needing to speak a single word of your love for another as the warmth within the air expressed it more than any word could ever say.

──────

"I am not a nag." "Yes, you are." The king muttered, raising his head from your chest. "But you are my nag."

The journey to Rivendell was taxing on all of you, though you couldn't help but feel most sorry for Bilbo. The hobbit was so new to adventuring - you doubted he had ever been out of the Shire before now - and you had decided to support him wherever you could as a helping hand. Just helping him set up camp, saddling his pony in the morning, offering him water, little gestures seemed to make a difference in his demeanor.

Spending time with the hobbit to keep his morale up, especially after the troll attack, did mean that it was getting harder to find a spare moment with Thorin. The two of you had spoken much more frequently since his confession, and you wished for more time, but the whole group was in poor spirits as it was. While they were all happy for you, public displays of affection were just likely to irritate everyone further. And Thorin's burden of leadership would likely not be eased while you were still on the road. For the moment, all you could do was keep moving and offer comfort to whoever needed it.

Needless to say, arriving at Rivendell was a weight off your shoulders. Even if the dwarves tried to pick a fight with Elrond.

You had all taken your time to settle in and relax, having taken full advantage of the elves' hospitality (and you were forever grateful for being able to feel clean after the long journey). When the group of you were provided with dinner and the inevitable food fight broke out, you were happy to see how everyone's spirits had been lifted. However, you couldn't help but notice your One stood to the side. There was a content smile on his face, but you could easily see the tension that still bristled through him.

You soon found him after everybody had retreated to their rooms for the night. It was hard not to hear him - the pacing in his room seemed to echo through the hallway, if only slightly. Raising your hand, you softly knocked at the door, hoping that he wouldn't be too stubborn to talk to you.

"Come in."

Even his tone of voice betrayed his stress. He visibly relaxed when you entered the room though, shutting the door behind you, and you felt glad to at least be some comfort.

You smiled in greeting, and spoke softly. "Will you tell me what's going on with you?"

"I assure you, I am fine. Do not trouble yourself."

You closed the distance between you hesitantly, giving him the chance to back away, and took his hands. "Please, Thorin. I can see something is troubling you."

"I am just... concerned. About the future of this quest, about everyone's safety." You saw a struggle in his mind of not wanting to be vulnerable, but he seemed to give in, and sighed in defeat. "I fear that people are going to be hurt because of me."

"Oh, my love..." you breathed, pressing your forehead to his. "You are the best leader any of us could ask for, and I promise you that you will not be the cause of any hurt."

He gently pulled back and looked into your eyes. "You truly believe that?"

"Of course I do. Those in this company are strong and intelligent. Perhaps with the exception of your nephews," you chuckled, and Thorin couldn't help but smile. "They are all capable of making their own decisions. They knew the risks of coming along, but they have all chosen to join anyway because they saw a courageous dwarf that they wanted to follow."

"I only want to do right by my people."

"And you will. We all have faith in you."

He pressed his forehead to yours again. "You're far too good to me, ghivashel," he murmured.

"All I want is for you to be happy, my love."

And with that, you tilted your head up and kissed him, your fingers tracing his cheekbones as you pulled him closer. It wasn't rushed and clumsy, as it was when Thorin first confessed, but slow and loving, every movement of your lips against his a confession of love in itself. His hands found their way to your waist and pulled you flush against him, trying to feel as much of you as possible.

When you separated to take a breath, meeting his lust-filled gaze was all the encouragement you needed.

"I wonder if there's any way I could relieve some of your stress..." Your tone was playful as you slid your hands achingly slowly down Thorin's chest, and you heard him inhale as you stopped just at his hips.

"Amralime, are you sure? If we start I will not want to hold back."

"I trust you, Thorin." You smiled and nodded towards the double bed. "And we may as well take advantage of the luxury while we have it."

He smirked. "I'm beginning to think you came here just to bed me."

"Hey, I would never-"

Your sarcastic reply was cut off by him kissing you again, with a desperation you hadn't seen from him before. Maybe you had awakened something long kept under control, but any coherent thought of that was soon lost when he shrugged the furs off his shoulders and his fingers found the hem of your shirt.

Soon becoming restless feeling him trace the curves of your waist, you broke away from the kiss just long enough to tug your shirt off. Thorin did the same, and after some hurried fumbling between more stolen kisses, you were both undressed. His hands never left your body as he backed you up towards the bed.

"You are so beautiful, ghivashel..." he murmured, lips trailing along your jawline and down your neck. It was so easy to get lost in the sensation, but when he tried to sit you down on the bed, you stopped him.

"Tonight is about you, my love." You turned the two of you around and gently pushed him back to sit down, taking the time to admire his toned body as you knelt in front of him.

Thorin's eyes were wide with surprise and he almost looked as if he wanted to protest, but the twitch of his already hard cock gave him away.

"You... you don't have to-"

"I want to." His breath hitched when your lips traced his thigh, and you smiled. "Relax, my king..."

Any further protest was soon lost when you leaned forward and licked a long stripe up his length, wrenching a gasp from his lips. Your movements were slow, mapping out every inch of him with kitten licks until he was writhing impatiently before you, until you were done teasing and sucked his tip into your mouth.

The room was filled with the sounds of breathy groans and muttered Khuzdul that you could barely focus on as you continued. Thorin twisted his fingers into your hair when you began taking him inch by inch into your mouth - his grip was firm, but never controlling - and when you started bobbing your head he was certain that he must've been dreaming.

Looking up at him and pressing your thighs together to suppress your own arousal, you watched his head tilt back in ecstasy every time you pressed your tongue flat against his tip when you rose. The sounds he made were so beautiful that it was becoming more and more difficult to control yourself. Fortunately, it seemed you wouldn't need to for much longer. You felt the tension in his body increase with every bob of your head, every swipe of your tongue, and as your movements grew faster you wrapped your hand around the base to stroke what you couldn't fit in your mouth. Yet, when you next looked up at him, he gently pushed you away, denying himself climax.

"Is everything alright, my love?"

He leant down for a brief kiss, still breathing heavily, and nodded. "That was... incredible." He took your hands and guided you to stand, then pulled you closer to straddle his lap.

"Then-" You inhaled sharply feeling his lips and teeth over your throat. "Then why didn't you let me finish?"

Thorin didn't answer for a moment, too busy creating a cluster of pink marks along your neck. When he was satisfied with his work, he tugged your hips down to press his hard length against you.

"Because I want to finish inside you, amralime."

You simply nodded, feeling too flustered and on edge to offer any sort of response beyond a whispered, "Please..."

Thorin stood up holding you, his lips continuing their assault on your neck, and carefully laid you down in the center of the bed. He slotted himself between your legs and wasted no time in moving to prepare you. Pausing to receive a nod of consent, he slid one thick finger into you, and you gasped at the sudden feeling. He soon added a second when you began rocking your hips against his hand impatiently, begging for more.

"Patience," he chuckled. "I do not want to hurt you."

"I don't care." You moaned breathlessly with every curl of his fingers. It felt like so much already, but still not enough. "I need you now, Thorin."

"Who would I be to deny my queen?"

He withdrew his fingers and you immediately pulled him forward to kiss you, a soft gasp being pulled from you when he ground his hips against you, ever so lightly pressing against your clit. Holding himself up over you with one hand, he used the other to guide his tip to your entrance and, swallowing your cries in the kiss, he slowly pushed into you.

His hand found yours and your fingers intertwined while he waited for any signs of your discomfort to fade. It was an uncomfortable stretch to fit his thick cock, but it soon became a welcome sensation, and you wrapped your legs around his waist to urge him on.

He moved carefully at first, until your cries of pain became cries of pleasure, and soon his hips snapped back against you much more firmly. Each thrust hit so deep inside of you, filling you up so perfectly, and his fingers gripped your hips almost tight enough to bruise. You clutched onto him tightly, trying to stay grounded amongst the sensations. One hand was buried in his hair, keeping his forehead pressed against yours, the other was digging into his back, leaving scratches that you were sure would last a few days at least. Though it didn't seem to bother him - every time you dug your nails into his back, it seemed to be encouragement, and he relentlessly kept up his pace. It was firm and deep, but never rough, though part of you wondered how hard he would go if you asked.

With each thrust, you bucked your hips to meet him, trying to get more friction to ignite the coil of heat growing in your core. Thorin's moans soon grew louder, despite him trying to remain as quiet as he could, and when his rhythm grew unsteady his fingers slipped down to circle your clit as his teeth latched onto your neck again.

"Ghivashel..." he murmured, his voice strained. "I'm so close..."

Your mind was spinning with pleasure, and you felt yourself reaching your peak as well. "I am too..." you panted.

His hips shifted just enough to hit a spot inside you to make you see stars, and along with the attention on your clit and your neck, it was enough to push you over the edge. Your grip on him tightened as the coil snapped and heat spread through your body, and you buried your face into the crook of his neck to muffle your cry of pleasure.

It seemed to last forever, and in your pleasure-filled haziness you registered Thorin also growing tense, and you heard his deep groan as he reached his climax and came inside of you. He felt so perfect, and you both stayed clinging onto each other, lost for breath, until you both came to.

Still catching his breath, he kissed your forehead and pulled out to lie next to you, and you couldn't help but whimper at the sudden emptiness.

He lay on his side, facing you, and brought your hand up to his lips. "You are so wonderful, amralime."

You smiled softly and shuffled closer, putting an arm over his waist and tucking your head under his. "So are you, my king."

You glanced back at the door to the room and chuckled.

"What is it?"