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Bilbo had begun the autumn season by feeling more restless than he ever had before. Nothing he did quelled the itch he had in his bones. He sat perched on his bench outside Bag End, sipping from his piping hot tea when little Frodo came scrambling up the way covered in dead leaves.
Small hands gesturing downward frantically. The Uncle leaned down with a smile so his nephew could whisper in his ear. The poor child had lived with his uncles several seasons already but still found it difficult to speak aloud.
“Yes my dear boy, you may spend the night over at the Brickleberry’s home playing with the twins. But you must promise to clean up after yourselves once Mrs. Brickleberry calls the children to bed.” An excited nod followed only by a trail of kicked up dust was all that the young boy left in his wake.
Watching the distant form of young Frodo play with his neighbour friends in their front garden down the way, it pleased Bilbo greatly knowing that his shy child was making friends with other fauntlings around the Shire.
His tea cooled, nearly forgotten as the sun moved slowly across the sky.
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A gust of wind kicked up the itch under his skin. Rising from his seat, Bilbo went in search of his husband. Thorin stood at the kitchen sink, washing the dishes from one of the hobbity meals he had needed time to adapt to when he arrived in the Shire.
Bilbo quietly snuck behind him, silently sliding his half empty cup and saucer of tea onto the empty dining table.
Before Thorin realized he wasn’t alone, two hands settled on his back. They caressed around and downward until his hip was gripped firmly by one and his belly palmed warmly by the other. The abdicated dwarf king startled.
“Our child has scheduled himself a sleepover tonight.”
An impressed grunt, “Our brave little one.”
“Seeing as we shall remain undisturbed, do you recall our discussions on expanding our family? Would you like to begin trying, my darling?” Bilbo asked with a sultry tone.
“Nearly done the dishes, Amrâlimê.”
“Ah… clearly I’ve been too diplomatic,” speaking only as if to himself before pressing his lips closely to his love’s ear, “I need you in me,” Bilbo said softly.
A dish clattered dully into the soapy water.
“So unless you’re nearly done with *me*, I don’t want to hear another word. Don’t make me beg, my darling.”
A thick gulp followed by the sound of damp hands wiping on a dish cloth was Thorin’s only answer.
Bilbo held his husband by the hips and pulled him toward the dining room.
“Not the bedroom?”
Silence as the hobbit removed his clothing, letting them drop in a pile at his feet, before beginning to remove the dwarf’s loose soft clothing himself. Before long they both stood naked in front of one another, a stark contrast in a room that had never seen more than bare hobbit feet.
Thorin stepped forward, backing Bilbo up and lifting him effortlessly onto the dining table where his hobbit love took the next step and spread his legs lasciviously, frantically tugging his raised member. The abandoned cup of tea served as last second lubricant for thick fingers preparing a tight puckering. The coldness of the liquid drew a small shivering moan from the hobbit.
“Please, my love, now or I might just do it myself.”
“So quickly? So be it.” Not waiting for any further instruction, Thorin hooked one ankle over his shoulder and pressed forward. He lavished loving kisses on the crook of Bilbo’s soft neck, caressing his back all while folding the love of his life in half. Pressing the incredibly thick head of his unsheathed member against the hobbit’s entrance, Thorin rocked back and forth, he poked and stretched the still-tight tunnel centimetre by centimetre until he was seated fully inside the firm warmth.
The look on Bilbo’s face, for a moment, was one of overwhelming contentment. His eyes squeezed shut until the itching deep below his skin rallied and he needed more. The free ankle that was not hooked over his dwarven husband’s shoulder tightening around Thorin’s waist. The moment the rocking ceased, Bilbo bucked thrice in rapid succession, pulling him forward slowly, slowly, then all in one motion.
A sharp gasping intake of breath that turned into a deep growling exhale met the action.
The deep gravelly dwarven voice forced out, “Gh-Ghivashel…”
What followed next was a violent pounding that made the cup and saucer rattle.
“Oh! Oh! OH! More! Deeper! Ugh! YES! OH YAVANNA!!!” Bilbo shouted as he reached completion, spattering onto his own chest and face. He continued to rock, his partner not yet finished.
Thorin, silent, aside for grunts at every thrust, pulled them both down together as he fell back into the head dining chair. Bilbo remained seated on Thorin, but turned facing away from his love.
Thorin held Bilbo’s arms taut on the arms of the chair and used the weight of his love to his advantage as he pounded upward. Bilbo’s widened eyes saw stars and his mouth fell slack as the thick dwarven member reached deeper into him than he had ever felt before.
Finally, the motions slowed and Thorin thrust upward once, twice, and held his position in midair as he finished, emptying himself completely against Bilbo’s tender walls.
Grateful that the itch had quelled for the moment, Bilbo curled into his One’s embrace. Nude in the dining room, satisfied and loved.
“Do you think it took?” Thorin panted.
“Too early to tell but I love you all the same.”
“And I love you Amrâlimê, but I have not had my fill of you yet.” Bilbo blushed, unused to hearing his husband speak in such a way so confidently. His sensitive entrance throbbing around the shaft still seated in him from behind. The sensation was overwhelming but that didn’t stop him from following Thorin’s lead.
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The negative results had devastated the hobbit. Bilbo had put up a brave front but when all was still and dark in their home, Bilbo had let out quiet sobs cradled in his love’s arms.
The next time Bilbo felt the itch in his bones, he dreaded the uncertainty and disappointment that often accompanied it. Hamfast Gamgee was the first he approached.
“Morning Hamfast, would you and Bell be able to watch Frodo tonight?” He wrung his hands together uncharacteristically.
“Why Mister Bilbo sir, absolutely! I was going to take some of our younguns on a camping trip for a few nights around Hobbiton. Do you think young master Frodo would like to join us? If not he can stay with the missus and the other children here for pie-making?”
“A camping trip somewhere safe for a few days would be a good experience. Thank you my good man!“
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When Thorin had returned from dropping off a very excited Frodo and his travel pack at the Gamgee’s, Bag End was oddly silent.
“Bilbo? Where are you?” A small sound came from the sitting room. Thorin was surprised to see his love in a dressing gown nervously staring into a sputtering dying fire with elbows on his knees and brows furrowed.
“What plagues you, my darling?”
“What if this time does not work either?”
“Then we shall continue to try or go about it the same way we gained our dear young Frodo.” Thorin rubbed calming circles in between Bilbo’s shoulder blades.
“Alright, I’m ready.”
“We don’t have to try just because Frodo is away-“
“Not another word. My bones itch and my womb aches for you.” Bilbo dropped his dressing gown entirely to reveal his bare skin beneath. “Now put a fauntling in me, my King.”
Thorin’s ears were not prepared for the words his lover spoke but his member twitched in excitement.
“Careful with your words, Ghivashel, or I may not last long enough to get the job done.” The lovers snickered to one another.
True to his word, Thorin quickly ravaged his love by the fireplace with a fur draped over their bottoms collecting every drop of sweat they worked up. Both lovers coming to completion moments apart. Thorin, with a great growl into his darling’s neck, and Bilbo while brushing a wave of dark hair from his love’s forehead.
“Oh! Oh my! Too- too much!” Thorin continued rocking into Bilbo with all the power and awareness of a dwarf lost to lust. His member pressing over and over into the most sensitive nub within Bilbo. The poor hobbit’s eyes rolled back and his mouth lolled, toes curling while he rode out the overwhelming passion of his large husband.
Thorin pulled Bilbo up by his wrists and rode his final climax with two thunderous slams while Bilbo dangled, gasping for the air that had been pounded out of him from the bottom up.
The dwarven lover heavily blinked open his eyes and saw the mess he had left of his dearest; a shade of pink further flushed his face.
Gasping himself, he asked, “What do you need, my treasure?”
“Finish. In your. Arms.” A heaving chest followed each word.
Thorin pulled the two together, one hand cradling the curly honeyed hair so that their foreheads touched, and the other hand thickly wrapped around Bilbo’s member. He pumped up and down slowly to a gasping overly sensitive completion while the two tenderly kissed one another.
Thorin and Bilbo fell deeply asleep in each others’ arms beneath the fur blanket, all thoughts of whether their lovemaking had resulted in anything far from their minds.