Work Text:
It was Dwalin's night to keep watch and he sat slumped against a rock, keeping one eye on the fire and the other on his snoozing companions. Even Thorin found it easier to rest with Dwalin on duty, and the only sounds filtering through the camp were the snores of the dwarves and the low crackling of the fire.
Ori shifted on the ground next to him, sitting up and peeking around to make sure they alone were awake, casting a glance at Dwalin and waiting for the gruff nod before casting aside his cloak and crawling into the elder's lap.
Ori had admired the warrior since he first laid eyes on him in the hobbit's hole, and even before then just hearing the stories of his great and brave deeds from his elder brothers. This thing between them, nothing more than soft kisses in the night when no one was watching, had started that night at Bilbo's and continued on through their journey.
Ori made a quiet sound into Dwalin's mouth, trying to press impossibly closer to him as he licked into the older dwarf's mouth, hips rocking and illiciting a low sound rumbling from Dwalin's chest. Ori felt the solid mass between his thighs as he rocked more insistently, tangling a hand in Dwalin's beard.
Dwalin fit his large hands over Ori's gently rounded bottom, guiding his timid rocking to a strong and rhythmic rut, swallowing the sweet whimpers the younger made with his tongue, They hadn't done much more than kiss before, but Dwalin could feel Ori's erection trapped between their stomachs and his own was throbbing beneath Ori's thighs.
Dwalin grunted in surprise when one of Ori's small hands slipped between them, palming the thick bulge there and undoing his laces with deft fingers. He groaned into the younger's mouth when those hands, calloused not from weapons but quills and knitting needles, curled beneath his breeches and around his thick cock.
Ori kept up his steady rocking, hand tugging at Dwalin's foreskin and reaching lower to his balls until the warrior's grip on his ass tightened and growled against Ori's lips. The sound sent a shudder through the young scribe, who whimpered, tried not to cry out, and spilled himself in his own breeches, still rocking and pulling on Dwalin's cock until he was rewarded with a a jerk and a grunt and the thick liquid coating his hands and their jerkins between them as Dwalin slumped bonelessly against the rock.
Ori leaned into Dwalin's chest with a contented sound, like a sleepy cat, bringing his soiled fingers to his mouth and licking away Dwalin's essence, until the older groaned again and gently pushed him back, unable to witness the esight without another stirring of arousal rising already in his belly.
Dwalin gave Ori another kiss, softer, and followed it with a nip to his nose before gently peeling their bodies away before the could stick their with seed and sweat, and let the boy crawl back under his cloak so as to get some sleep before they set out again on their journey.