Chapter Text
When Bilbo sees the silhouette of Thorin laying on the ice next to the slain orc, his heart sinks into the pit of his stomach. But then Thorin stands and brushes himself off, and Bilbo almost cries with relief as he runs to the dwarf king’s side.
“Thorin! Are you alright? Did he wound you?”
“Some cuts and scrapes here or there, and I’ll surely be sore tomorrow, but I’m alright.”
Overcome with joy and given the go-ahead, Bilbo envelops Thorin in a hug. His heart flutters when he feels Thorin lift him off the ground, and Thorin nearly slips on the ice beneath them, though Bilbo would not have cared if they had fallen. He would be content to fall with Thorin, to sway with him in whichever direction they may go.
Their embrace only lasts a moment, though, and Thorin sets Bilbo back down on the ice.
“You fought well, did you, Master Burglar?”
Bilbo beams up at him. “Yes, my letter-opener served me quite well.”
Thorin smiles, and pats Bilbo on the shoulder. “I owe you a debt of gratitude for what you did. Dwalin and I would have surely perished had you not come to warn us.”
Bilbo’s brow furrows. “Thorin, you don’t need to repay me. I did it gladly; I could not see you come to harm. I -”
“Thorin!”
Bilbo turns to see the other party members approach them, hooting and hollering and crowding their king. Bilbo steps aside to give them space, and blushes as he thinks about what he may have said. Thorin’s dragon sickness had made Bilbo’s feelings for him more complicated, but now that he appears to be himself again, the pull in his chest that Bilbo has felt for him has grown twofold.
As they walk back to Erebor, Bilbo remarks at how differently the company is interacting with Thorin than they had during his sickness. Thorin talks freely and easily with the other dwarves, and they defer to him and speak highly of him once again. But Bilbo finds himself at the edge of the group, not by Thorin’s side as he had been in the palace. Bilbo knows that the bond Thorin has with the dwarrow is nothing he should be jealous of, it’s something intrinsic to who Thorin is, and while altogether different from what the two of them share, their bond is just as important to Thorin. Or, at least, Bilbo hopes it is.
Upon their arrival at the gates of Erebor, Thorin approaches Bilbo.
“I’m sure you’re excited to get back to your hobbit hole. You must be awfully homesick by now.”
Bilbo scrunches his face as he realizes he can’t remember the last time he thought of home. He’d been so focused on their journey, the quest, the war, and the way he felt about Thorin and his concern for him, that he’d all but forgotten about Bag End. While he does want to return eventually, he isn’t quite ready yet - but Thorin has just basically told him, however politely, that it’s time Bilbo take his leave.
“- But if you would ever like to return, you are always welcome in my kingdom, Master Burglar. Any time of the day or night.”
Day or night? Bilbo blushes. Did Thorin intend the double meaning? Maybe he does want Bilbo to stay after all. “...Actually, it’s quite a long walk, and I should rest up for it. Would it be alright if I took you up on your offer tonight?”
Something lights up in Thorin’s face, but it’s not nearly as bright as other looks he has given him in the past. “Of course. You can stay as long as you’d like.”
Bilbo joins the company for supper, and tentatively approaches the seat next to Thorin, who is at the head of the table. When Thorin sees him, he pulls the chair out for him, and Bilbo sits down. The mood of the company is bittersweet, as they mourn their fallen kin and rejoice in the defeat of the orcs and the return of the Arkenstone, received upon their repayment to Lake-Town. Bilbo quietly eats his dinner, occasionally glancing up at Thorin, who seems to be lost in his own thoughts.
When the other dwarves break out in a song to celebrate their kingdom, Thorin cracks a smile, and looks down at Bilbo.
“You’ve quite the journey ahead of you. Do you plan to depart at first light? I wouldn’t see you go before I can wish you safe travels.”
Bilbo furrows his brow. He doesn’t want to overstay his welcome, nor give the impression that he wouldn’t stay longer, if Thorin wanted him to. “Well, I could leave tomorrow morning, if I sleep well tonight. But I don’t need to. No pressing matters at Bag End to hurry back to.”
Thorin gives him a knowing look. “It’s alright that you’re hesitant to go back to the Shire. The rest of the company and I, we embarked on this quest to regain our home. To us, it is a relief that the adventure is over. But while your return home will be welcome, it will also be the end of the thrilling chases and distant lands. You’re not ready for the excitement to end.”
Okay, he must have intended that one. Bilbo flits his tongue over his lips, and looks up at the dwarf king. “Well, the thing I will miss the most about these past months isn’t any of that. It’s you, Thorin.”
Thorin’s eyes widen, and he straightens his posture. He then clears his throat and stands up from the table.
“I’m terribly sorry, Master Baggins, but I’m afraid I’ve some pressing matters to attend to. I wish you a good evening.”
Bilbo opens his mouth to reply, but Thorin is already gone.
The hobbit sighs as he looks over his things, and wonders whether he should prepare them for departure the next day. He picks up his acorn and looks it over, recalling how positively enchanted Thorin had seemed by him when he’d shown it to him. A stark difference from how Thorin is acting now - cordial and friendly, but with none of the same interest. What has changed?
…Well, everything. Thorin is a proper ruler now. Something twists in Bilbo’s gut. Thorin can have anyone he wants, and a king deserves only the best. Before he and his kin left Erebor, Thorin must have had his pick of lovers - maybe he had only wanted Bilbo because there were no other options for him at the time. And now that he is the king who reclaimed Erebor and welcomed the people of Lake-town, there will be droves of folk looking to share his bed, and Thorin must intend to wed a fellow dwarf… Why would he waste his time on a little hobbit?
Bilbo tosses and turns as he tries to fall asleep, imagining what it would be like to stay in Thorin’s company as a friend. To watch him court someone else. He doesn’t think he can - it would be easier on him if he just left in the morning. And after the way Thorin had stood from the table so abruptly, Bilbo doesn’t even know if he’s still in the dwarf king’s good graces.
The hobbit’s ears perk up when he hears Thorin’s voice from the hallway, bidding Bofur good night. He springs from the bed and rushes to the door, to catch Thorin before he turns in to his chambers. Luckily, Thorin is still in the hall, staring into the fire in a large, stone fireplace. As Bilbo approaches him, Thorin quirks his head and turns to face him.
“Are you alright, Bilbo?”
“Yes, I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.”
Thorin blinks, and then seems to remember the offending statement. “You did not upset me, Bilbo. To me, you are among the best things about our journey. Above the gold and jewels.”
It takes all of Bilbo’s restraint to keep from gasping. Before he can respond, Thorin continues.
“I would wish to court you, Bilbo, but I know that you belong in Bag End. I do not want to keep you from your home.”
Bilbo’s heart stutters in his chest. While he’d been doubting Thorin’s interest in him, Thorin had been contemplating asking for his hand. He blinks, and forms his response. “- You would not be keeping me from anything, Thorin. If I chose to stay here, it would be because I want to be with you. …I do want to be with you.”
Thorin returns his gaze to the fire. “Well, I would understand if you changed your mind about that… you may find it to be unworth your while to stay with me. I am afraid there are things one would expect of a king, that I cannot promise you.”
Bilbo tilts his head. From a king, one might expect riches and power - both things that Bilbo knows Thorin has, but would not expect of him. The things Bilbo expects of Thorin are honesty, integrity, and compassion, and even though the dragon sickness had taken them from him, Thorin has since fought for his kin, repaid the debt to Lake-Town, and opened his kingdom to the refugees. These are qualities that Bilbo knows will never falter again in him.
“What do you mean?”
Thorin sighs. “Before the Desolation, there were many men and women vying for my affections and my courtship, but I was always more concerned with the kingdom. I never thought much of my lack of… experience, until we met, and my fondness for you began to grow. And now, I think I would like those things, with you, but I do not know how to give them to you. I don’t know if I can please you the way you deserve.”
Bilbo realizes that he had been expecting experience and skill from Thorin; it was a reason that he’d wondered if Thorin could be truly interested in him. But this new information does not change the way he feels. His expression softens, and he walks towards the fireplace so that he can stand next to the king. “Thorin, I do not expect anything of you, other than your kindness, and you have proven that to me. I want to be close with you, no matter what form that takes.” He hesitantly reaches his hand forward, to place it lightly on Thorin’s arm.
Thorin exhales, and Bilbo can see the tension leave him, as if this has been weighing on his mind, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the flames in front of him. “I think… I think I’d enjoy living with you in the Shire, if you would have me. But I cannot leave my kingdom, at least not anytime soon. I might not ever be able to. I hate to speak as if I think of Erebor as a burden, it is not one… but I don’t want to make you journey through the mountains and Mirkwood just to see me. I want you to be happy.”
The idea of Thorin living in his hobbit hole with him, helping him in the garden, sitting idly with him on the bench and watching the clouds go by, is something Bilbo had never considered. It makes his heart melt. “We can cross that bridge when we come to it. I’m not homesick yet, and for now, I’m happy to be here with you.”
Thorin finally looks down into Bilbo’s eyes, and Bilbo tilts his head up to kiss him. It is chaste, and Bilbo pulls away after a moment, but it still makes his heart race. When he looks up at the dwarf king, his smile is brighter than the flames that illuminate him.
“So are we courting, now?” Bilbo asks a few days later. He doesn’t know much about dwarven courting rituals, except that they can last years. Bilbo is a little conflicted about how he would like Thorin to answer - he doesn’t know if they should be thinking about marriage when they don’t even know where they’re going to be living, or how much longer he can go without wanting to return to Bag End, even if it means going alone. But the idea of being Thorin’s intended fills him with warmth, and he decides that he could be happy with either answer Thorin gave.
“I don’t know. If we are, it is a quite unconventional courtship.”
“...Because I’m a hobbit?”
“No, because I already gave you your courting gift, before we exchanged courting beads. That is supposed to be the first step.”
Bilbo blushes. The mithril was a courting gift. He hadn’t thought of it in those terms before, but now that Thorin has said it, it makes sense. Bilbo had felt quite courted when Thorin had given it to him - even though he was hazy with dragon sickness and cared only about his gold and those who could defend it, he still wanted to protect Bilbo, who offered little use to him other than looking pretty.
“Do you… want me to court you?” Thorin looks down at Bilbo.
“I don’t know if it’s the best idea. Maybe we should wait and see how we feel. When you’re able to leave Erebor and move to Hobbiton, if you still want to, or maybe I’ll find that I want to stay here.”
Thorin frowns, and retracts his hand from where it sits on Bilbo’s. “Oh. Should we stop holding hands, then?”
“Just because we aren’t courting doesn’t mean anything has to change. Does it?” How strict are dwarven courting rules? Thorin has already admitted to breaking one, so they must be somewhat flexible.
“You’re right. We can be close without promising anything to each other, just yet.” He reaches back and places his hand on Bilbo’s once more.
In that moment, Bilbo decides that he should give something to Thorin, to show him that he wants, more than anything, for this to work.
As Bilbo starts to ponder the type of gift he’d like to give to Thorin, he decides that he should start with the gift of the mithril shirt. It was forged by Thorin’s ancestors, a very dwarven item, and given to Bilbo to keep him safe. Bilbo decides that the gift he gives in return should, in turn, be very hobbit-ish in nature. He would like to give Thorin something that had been passed down from his own ancestors, but he’s not ready to spend four months away from Thorin walking to Hobbiton and back. Besides, everything in his house would be too small for the dwarf, anyway.
Bilbo takes the mithril out of his trunk and examines it, running his fingers over the chains. It kind of looks like it’s knitted.
An image pops into his mind, of Thorin in a sweater of blue yarn so dark that it almost looks black. He would be so warm and cozy. Bilbo smiles, and leaves his room to go ask Balin where he could procure some yarn and knitting needles.
It has been years since Bilbo last knit a sweater, or anything at all, but he thinks he can make it work. Since he can’t properly measure Thorin if the gift is to be a surprise, he has borrowed one of Thorin’s garments indefinitely to use as a guide for the project. Bilbo is sitting on his bed after dinner one night, comparing the pieces that he’s already knit to Thorin’s shirt when he hears a knock at the door.
“Bilbo?” Thorin calls from the other side.
“Coming,” Bilbo says as he shoves the pieces he’s knitted underneath his pillow, and hurries to the door. He opens it to find a very troubled looking dwarf king.
“Thorin, what’s wrong?”
“I wish to speak to you. May I?”
“Yes, of course.” Bilbo steps to the side, and closes the door after Thorin. He looks up at him with concern, but Thorin breaks eye contact, looking down at the floor instead.
“Lately, you haven’t seemed very happy here. You spend so much time in your room, I feel like we’re growing apart. I don’t want to keep you in Erebor, if you would rather return to your home.” His voice wavers as he speaks, like it’s taking all of his strength to say this.
Bilbo blinks. This is the last thing he ever could have expected Thorin to say, but it makes him rethink his behavior lately. He has been secretive, because he’s been trying to finish the sweater without Thorin knowing. It’s best to just come clean. But before he can, Thorin’s eyes flick over to Bilbo’s bed, and he sees his shirt still laid out.
Thorin furrows his brow. “My shirt, I’ve been looking for that…”
“I’m sorry, Thorin, I borrowed it without asking. I’ve been working on a gift for you -” Bilbo moves the pillow, revealing the scraps of sweater pieces. “This is why I’ve been spending time in my room. I’m sorry I made you worry for nothing. Of course I want to stay here.”
Thorin picks up one of the scraps and runs his fingers over the loops of yarn, every stitch Bilbo has made thinking of him and the commitment he wants them to make together. When Thorin turns to look at Bilbo, his expression is unreadable. For a moment, Bilbo is worried that Thorin doesn’t like it - a sweater is not a gift fit for a king, when he thinks about it - but then Thorin’s lips are touching his. This is the only kiss they’ve shared since the first one by the fire, and it takes Bilbo a moment to realize what is happening. Before he can kiss him back, Thorin is pulling away.
“I’m sorry, I should have asked first.”
“No, it’s alright, I quite liked that,” Bilbo beams. “We can do it again if you want.”
Thorin gulps, and leans down to kiss him again. Bilbo isn’t sure how deep of a kiss Thorin will want, but he’s content to follow the dwarf’s lead. He puts his hands on the back of Thorin’s head, hoping to encourage him to open his mouth more for him. To Bilbo’s very pleasant surprise, Thorin does so, and Bilbo gasps in delight when he feels Thorin’s tongue slide against his.
After a minute or so of ecstasy, Bilbo whimpers when he feels Thorin pull away.
“Am I doing this right?”
Bilbo barely catches what Thorin says, because he’s still in a daze from their kiss.
“Y-yes, Thorin. It’s perfect,” he smiles as he runs his fingers over Thorin’s ear.
“Can I… can I kiss you neck?” Thorin says sheepishly. He looks like he’s about to apologize for asking, so Bilbo quickly replies,
“Yes! Yes, please. But with our height difference… would you rather lay on the bed?”
Thorin’s eyes widen, as if he would never have expected Bilbo to say that. “I’d like to. I think that if I didn’t have to worry about my neck cramping, I could kiss you forever.”
“…Well we can do more than just kiss, if you’d like.” Bilbo tries to act non-chalant, like he hasn’t been dying to get into bed with Thorin, because the last thing he wants is for him to feel pressured.
Thorin replies in a low, soft tone, almost as if he’s afraid someone is listening. “I would. There’s something… I’d wanted to ask if we could do, if that’s okay.”
Bilbo’s mind floods with images of him wrapping his hand (or lips) around Thorin’s cock, but he has a feeling the dwarf will be too shy to voice that desire, at least without encouragement. “Of course. You can ask for anything.”
He hates to pull away from Thorin, but Bilbo needs to collect the pieces of the sweater from the bed before they can lay down. As he steps up on the stool next to the bed to reach them, he regrets that he won’t be able to pretend that the stool has gone missing, meaning Thorin would have to pick him up and lay him down on the bed. But there will be plenty of chances for Thorin to act out that fantasy of his. Once the sweater is out of the way, Bilbo steps back on the stool and climbs onto the bed, beckoning Thorin to join him.
Bilbo sighs as he lays back, hand on Thorin’s forearm, pulling him towards him. Thorin gulps as he climbs onto the bed, and positions himself over Bilbo before looking down at him worriedly, like he’s trying to navigate through a maze full of trap doors.
“…Thorin, is this alright?”
Thorin nods. His cheeks are red and pupils dark, and his breathing is growing shallow. Bilbo runs his fingers through the hair on Thorin’s temple.
“You can kiss my neck, if you want.”
Bilbo's heart races as Thorin threads his fingers through his hair, and lowers himself down to ghost his lips over his neck. Bilbo feels like he may die of anticipation from the light touches, before Thorin finally presses his open mouth to his skin. Bilbo could feel himself getting excited while they were kissing, but now, laid out beneath Thorin with his tongue dragging over his neck, his prick is starting to strain in his trousers.
Through shallow breaths, Bilbo pants, “What else would you like to do, my love?”
Thorin pulls off of Bilbo and looks down at him. “I want… to watch you, if that’s alright. I want to see how you bring yourself pleasure. But if you want to do something else -”
“- N-no, we can do that,” Bilbo blushes. He brings Thorin in for another kiss, and begins unbuttoning his shirt. As he takes it off, Thorin pulls back to give him space, and when Bilbo looks up at him, Thorin looks enchanted.
“You can touch me if you want.” Bilbo sees the look of fear and hesitation in Thorin’s eyes at that, though, so he quickly corrects himself. “But you don’t need to. Do you want me to keep going?”
“Yes, if - if you still want to.”
Bilbo smiles. This is nothing like what he’d imagined sex with Thorin would be, back before he learned of his desire to court him. But the amount of caution Thorin is showing, and the fact that he wants to learn how Bilbo touches himself so that he can please him in the future makes his heart swell. He kisses Thorin again before reaching down to remove his trousers.
Once he’s fully undressed, Bilbo rolls onto his side, and reaches over to the drawer in his bedside table. He grabs a vial of oil and pours some onto his fingers. Thorin’s eyes widen, and he blinks in surprise as he watches him.
“Oh, Thorin, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed - I won’t if you’re not comfortable.”
“No, no I’m comfortable. I just - I wasn’t expecting…”
Bilbo furrows his brow. “Are you sure it’s alright?”
“Yes. Please show me.”
“Okay. Just tell me if it gets too much for you, and I’ll stop.”
Thorin nods, and Bilbo reaches down to place his fingertip at his entrance. Thorin inhales sharply, and Bilbo’s eyes slip shut as he tilts his head back against the pillow and traces his finger around his opening. He hasn’t done this since he left the Shire, and if the warm-up he’s doing doubles as a show for Thorin, then that’s just a bonus. His other hand finds it’s way to his nipple, and he moans as he rolls it between his fingers.
Bilbo finally pushes his other finger in, and he hears Thorin gasp. He opens his eyes to see the dwarf staring down at him, enraptured. Thorin’s eyes are locked on Bilbo’s face as he keeps pressing his finger in further, and finally curls it up to touch the special spot deep inside of him.
“Th-orin,” Bilbo pants, “You can, ah! Look down, if you want.”
Thorin’s eyes flick down Bilbo’s body, just for a moment. When he looks back into Bilbo’s eyes, his face is redder than Bilbo had thought possible.
Bilbo smiles. “I’m going to add another finger.”
“O-kay.” Thorin’s voice is tight, and his eyes are wide. He’s starting to look overwhelmed.
“Are you sure? I can stop.”
“N-no, no, I like this. I’ve never… I’ve never felt this way before. I like watching you feel good.”
“And I love watching you watch me.” Bilbo’s breath hitches as he pulls at his nipple and presses a second finger in. “I’m - oh… - I’m curling my fingers… up, and… Th-Thorin…”
Bilbo feels himself melt into a warm, thick haze of pleasure. He has to fight the urge to close his eyes so that he can keep looking up at Thorin as he tenses and relaxes his fingers, prodding against the spot over and over.
Then he feels Thorin rest his forehead against his own. He wants nothing more than to ask Thorin to touch his prick, but he knows better than to ask again - there will be time for that, if Thorin should want it.
“I’m going to touch myself, Thorin, I - oh, Thorin, I won’t last,” Bilbo moans. He isn’t sure whether Thorin will want to stay so close when it happens. Bilbo clamps his eyes shut as he moves his hand down his chest to his neglected cock, and he can feel Thorin pull away, just enough, it seems, to look down Bilbo’s body and watch him wrap his hand around his cock and begin to stroke himself. It doesn’t take long before Bilbo feels his orgasm building, and he pries his eyes open to look up at Thorin, who is looking into his eyes in awe.
“Th-orin,” Bilbo gasps as he comes, and lets out a sigh as he presses his finger against the spot a few more times before pulling out and letting go of his prick. And suddenly, he feels the dwarf envelope him in a hug, cradling his head against the crook of his shoulder.
Bilbo laughs and relaxes into Thorin’s embrace, but he can’t hug him back until he cleans his hands off. He lets his arms rest on the bed and closes his eyes, losing himself in the sensation of Thorin’s fingers petting his hair.
After a few minutes, Bilbo stirs, and Thorin pulls back.
“Was that… at all what you were expecting, or…?” Bilbo asks as he reaches into his bedside drawer for a handkerchief and wipes his hands.
“I can’t say what I was expecting. That’s why I wanted you to show me. Did… did I do alright?”
Bilbo smiles and lays back down, opening his arms for Thorin to embrace him again. “Yes, you were perfect, sweetheart. Do you want me to touch you? Or you could touch yourself, if you wanted…”
“I just want to keep holding you, if that’s alright.”
“Of course, darling,” Bilbo says as he nuzzles into his beloved.