Chapter Text
There was very little finer than the soothing power of hot water against one's skin. It washed away some of the fatigue, or enhanced it to the perfect level to ensure a good night's sleep. It was the time to think, be it on matters of a problematic nature or not. In Bilbo's case, he often found inspiration for his writing there as well.
His neighbor often seemed to find inspiration in his vocal cords.
He was fond of singing, the man, whose last name was Oakenshield, as he'd learned from the mailboxes way down below the building. He'd spoken to the man a few times in passing. But with an expression stern and an appearance handsome but intimidating it never led far. The only times he really heard the man was at moments like these.
Fitting to the nature of apartments, The walls were not at all thick and merely proved a filter, not an obstruction, and with the volume the man often sang at it took little effort to make out the words. The man sang freely and without shame, and why shouldn't he? Bilbo could not deny that his voice was lovely indeed; low and rumbling yet soothing and calm all the same. With some exceptions there ( One time Bilbo had clasped his hand over his mouth to silence the laughter, because was he really singing along to Taylor Swift?) , The songs he sang were often the same, something that was old and reminded Bilbo of some ancient history being sung. He often found it also helped with his own inspiration, so he listened in silent appreciation, though more often than he liked to admit would he be unable to resist humming along to the now familiar tune.
The first time he had hummed along and his neighbor had stopped, and he wondered if it was because he had heard him. Because although the walls were thin, he never thought them that thin. But the singing had been resumed shortly after, soft at first then louder again, louder than before, and Bilbo wondered if it was his imagination or not when it seemed that suddenly the man was singing for him.
But as said, that had been weeks ago, and while the latter was still on his mind, he no longer found shame in humming along, and whenever they would happen to shower at the same time it would come to a duet of sorts. Bilbo's voice was hardly one suited for humming, let alone singing, but that was another magic that showers possessed, and he was scarcely bothered by his own voice anymore.
He rolled his head and shoulders, willing the muscles to accept the massage in hopes of soothing them. One would expect to learn to not sit hunched over so in his office. He hummed, a tune he had come to learn blindly with credit to his neighbor, and squeezed a generous amount of scented shampoo into his hand, absentmindedly taking notice of the water on the opposite of the wall being turned on. He washed and rinsed his hair quickly, expecting the singing to start at any moment. But it remained silent save for the sound of the water, and he couldn't help but be slightly disappointed. Ah but no man was free of fatigue, and he could not blame the man for perhaps wanting to quickly find his way to bed. He set to finishing of as well, blindly reaching for his toothbrush and already thinking about the comfort of his bed as he brushed his teeth.
It was then that he heard the first moan.
He almost chocked on his toothbrush when he heard it. He froze, wondering if he'd imagined it. It took a while but there was no mistaking the sound of it when it resonated again, softer than the first but in the same low voice as before.
Bilbo felt his cheeks heat up, remaining still even now, as if moving would betray him. But that was ridiculous, because he knew , they both knew when the other was showering. He could not blame the man for wanting a moment for himself, if that was indeed the case (and oh it was, he thought when he heard a soft grunt.), but surely it could have been put off for another 5 minutes until Bilbo was done?
Bilbo blushed even more fiercely then, for what other reason was there for the man not todo so if not for Bilbo to hear? But no, that was a ridiculous thought of a nature he wasn't quite ready to face. It was far simpler for sure. The man showed no shame in singing with and perhaps even to him, why be ashamed of something so primal and natural as getting off?
The thought that came up to him next was unsettling, very unsettling indeed. And not just the thought, but his body's reaction as well. His hands shot down, covering himself as if the man would be able to sense his arousal through the walls. He silently cursed himself, shut his eyes and tried to will himself to calm down.
He could turn off the water, or let it run cold. He could clear his throat. Hit the wall. Plenty of alternatives to this. But what the body wants it shall have, and when the image of what his neighbor was doing crept up in his mind he let his head fall back and gave in. His hands moved, fingers clasping gently at first, then firmer. He tugged a few times, almost experimentally so, but when he heard yet another moan a pleasant heat pooled in his groin and he was forced to suppress a moan of his own.
You have got to be kidding me.
He cursed his body at that moment, but found he could no longer summon the strength to listen to the tiny part of his brain that shamed him. Instead he could only grip himself tighter, pace increasing as he listened in anticipation.
A thud against the wall, followed by a grunt, not of pain but pleasure still. Bilbo closed his eyes, Imagining the man slightly hunched over and bracing himself against the wall with his back as his hand moved almost fervently so, head fallen back against the wall and his lips parted slightly to allow a-.
This time he couldn't suppress the moan. It escaped his lips before he realized it bubbled up from his chest. He gasped right after, stilling the movement and freezing, wondering if he should turn of the water and move town. But this thought only lasted for a split second, because than he heard it clearer and louder than before, a moan that was without a doubt meant for him to hear.
Oh.
He would have collapsed from embarrassment had his body not wished otherwise. No, instead his cock twitched and before he truly realized it himself his hand was down again, gripping himself tighter than before. He turned, hunching over and letting his forehead rest against the tiles as his left hand joined the other, venturing slightly lower than his right and gently probing. The water that ran down his back was warm and gentle and suddenly he was in deep, imagining it being the warmth of his neighbors chest against his. He let out another experimental moan, wishing he could push his hips back against something solid. His jaws clenched and he swallowed when something he could only describe as a growl reached his ears. Oh and how lovely the sound was. He wanted it to be not through a wall but behind him, next to his ear so he could experience if was truly as deep as the bathroom made it sound. To feel hot breath on the shell of his ear and the friction of skin against skin. He let out a mix of a gasp and a moan when his arousal reached a new peak, his orgasm coming closer at a fast rate.
He shut his eyes tighter, concentrating on his thoughts and not the water, even considering turning it off so he could hear the moans clearer. But he needn't wonder for long. Because there was another thud, followed by a moan loader and longer than before. It hit him that that was the moan of someone coming undone, and the realization aroused him far more than it should have. It took mere seconds after this, during which he tried to imagine the man's face, imagine what he would look and feel like as he went rigid against him, and suddenly his own orgasm hit him, crashing over him like a wave. It spilled over his hand in pulses, and the moan he let out matched the other by nature, but less deep and more shaky, and he found his legs weak. He slid down, hands shaking and breathing ragged, heart beating hard and fast against his chest.
He relaxed, shoulders slumping down. He cleaned his hands behind his back, not bothering to turn or to open his eyes. It was not until he turned off the water that he realized the same had been done next door far before he did.
He froze, shock and shame hitting him again. He listened, hoping that his neighbor had long since left the bedroom and was already in his bed. He didn't hear thumps or a door opening and closing. He didn't hear anything for a few moments, and he dared hope he would yet be able to pass this of as if it had never happened.
Of course his neighbor was having none of that.
He laughed. Actually laughed, as low and rumbling as his singing, yet deeper still, echoing against the bathroom walls. Bilbo stuttered, not sure what to say, if to say anything at all, but being offended and feeling the urge to do so none the less. But words were lost to him and he could only blush, grateful that he was not there to see it.
''Well,''
He almost fell backwards.
''I suppose there is a first for everything.'' He added, not unkindly, and with a hint of what Bilbo recognized was embarrassment. Yet he was grateful for it. The absurdity of it all seemingly hit them both and suddenly they were both laughing, the sound echoing against the bathroom walls.
''I suppose there is.'' Bilbo replied after it died down.
And that confirmed it, etched it into their memories that yes, they had done this, they could no long pass it off as something from a disturbing dream or fantasy.
''I...'' The voice fell silent, during which Bilbo became suddenly aware of the chill now that the water was no longer there to warm his skin. He stepped out of his shower and wrapped a towel around his shoulders, heart not anywhere close to calming down as he waited for the man to continue.
Then something woke inside of him. Something horribly foolish and shameful and not at all proper. Then again, nothing of this had been proper and what is done is done.
''I would be lying if I said I didn't...'' I stopped, unable to finish the sentence after all and feeling his face heat up again. But the meaning was caught the way it was intended, and another laugh echoed.
''Yes. I am almost inclined to thank you.''
Bilbo groaned, clasping a hand over his eyes as if it would make the embarrassment pass away more quickly. ''Please don't thank me for this.''
''Then I won't. Perhaps in the future.''
Bilbo's head shot up. He merely managed to sputter out a few broken syllables before he finally found his voice
''Did you really just imply we do this again?'' He called, but all he received was another laugh, more distant than the ones before as the man withdrew himself further into his house.