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Bilbo wasn’t usually one to go to any sort of pub, or anything much more dangerous than a library. However, Bofur one of his best mates had made it his mission to attempt to corrupt the shorter man. So that is how he found himself being pulled about by his jacket in a crowded underground pub, waiting for Bofur’s friends, a band called The Dwarven Company to get on stage.
For some reason Bofur was extremely excited for Bilbo to meet them, well of course he was they were his mates. Something that Bilbo had few of, and truthfully, Bofur had been attempting to get them all together in one room for years. Though Bilbo’s grandfather tendencies, as his nephew called them, seemed to cause a sort of rift in their friendship.
When he had been younger he had, it’s true, been a rebel, had listened to rock, drank and even had a tattoo, which ran the entire upper part of his right thigh. But he had put all of that away when his parents had died, rebuilding himself from the ground up so that his father’s beloved shop would stay afloat. Doing this had, of course, caused him to lose many of his friends. Bofur however, continued to pop into the shop and then began to bring others. Such as Ori, who was Bilbo’s only other friend, besides Bofur himself. Ori was quiet, and loved books, much like Bilbo did. It made it easy for them to get along and for Bilbo to later hire Ori as his assistant.
He still wasn’t exactly sure how Frodo, Ori and Bofur had convinced him to do this. He didn’t stick out, sure he had a waistcoat on, but it was skillfully hidden by his old leather jacket, which still fit. Sure he had trainers on, not that anyone was actually looking at his feet, but it felt like slipping into some persona he had left behind years ago.
Letting out a sigh, which was unheard over the ruckus of the pub. Bofur was chatting away, pulling Bilbo by his wrist weaving skillfully through he crowd towards the front of the stage. The pint which was clenched tightly in one hand was sloshing on his jacket and down his wrist. It was making him uncomfortable, and he could feel it soaking his white shirt underneath his waistcoat. Switching hands, he shook his left hand, trying to get most of the liquid off his hand. This didn’t help when a large, muscled man knocked into him spilling then entire beer down his front, onto his shoes and unfortunately into his pants.
The mountain of a man, who had a born to kill tattoo on his head, glowered at him for a moment before disappearing into the crowd. This is why Bilbo had not wanted to come, people were so confrontational. Bofur patted his back and shoved another beer into his hand, and took a swig of his own.
“You’ll love it Bil’ they’re great!” Bofur slurred slightly, chortling as a large bearded man came on stage, a large scar covered most of his forehead, which added to the overall frightening image as he took his seat behind the drums. Next on stage were two boys, one blond and the other brunette, each had a guitar slung low on their hips. Unlike the drummer, they looked more punk than heavy metal. The brunette had a messy, rat nest of a hair style and an all-around scruffy appearance. While the blond had combed and braided hair that caught the lights, some of the braids Bilbo noticed extended to the young man’s beard.
Bofur leaned into his space with a grin. “That there is Bifur, my cousin. Those two, that’s Fili.” Bofur pointed with a wavering hand to the blond. “that’s Kili.” Bilbo nodded and pushed Bofur’s hand down so he could see the stage again. To his annoyance, the large tattooed fellow who had knocked his drink before, strode onto stage, a bass thrown over one shoulder much like an ax. The brunette, Kili all but bounced over to him with grin, which was surprisingly returned. Behind him followed, an elderly looking man with a fiddle swinging easily from one hand and his bow was poked into the tattooed man’s back.
“That’s Dwain, nice fellow. That’s his brother Balin.” Bofur commented over the sudden cheering as a final figure entered onto the stage.
This man was tall, and broad but not like Dwalin. His hair was long, black and streaked with gray. His face was grim, and sharp, even with the short beard on his face. Slung across his front was a black and silver guitar. Unlike most of the other members, who all looked as if they had dressed specifically for the evening, this man, who took a wide stance in front of the microphone, was in nothing but a t-shirt, jeans, boots and a well-worn leather jacket. The white shirt had grease stains down the front and Bilbo suddenly glared at his friend who was cheering along with the crowd.
“Bofur.” Bilbo’s sharp tone penetrated through Bofur’s boozed soaked haze. “If this is some type of set up, you will regret it.”
Bofur looked at him with wide innocent eyes, and Bilbo glared. Bilbo had a thing for bad boys, and the lead seemed to be just his type. Tall, dark and brooding. His last relationships had gone down the loo, in the splendor and explosions of fighting and crying. He had the sudden urge to smash his pint over Bofur’s head, but refrained. That would be a waste of good ale.
“That, dear Bilbo, is Thorin “Oakensheild” Durin.” Bofur was grinning at him.
“I hate you.” Bilbo grumbled.
Suddenly the drums and guitars came to life, filling the pub and almost drowning out the crowd completely. Bilbo was going to murder Bofur as he watched Thorin’s fingers slide up and down the neck of his guitar easily. They flickered up and down the instrument like a hummingbird, and Thorin rocked and swayed with his notes.
His eyes strayed from Thorin’s powerful form for a while as the fiddle played over the powerful riffs of the guitars. Balin played his fiddle solemnly but with the same strength that the other members seemed to possess. He watched as Fili and Kili seemed to feed off one another and could now tell they were brothers, if not twins. Dwalin was head banging a bit and Bilbo grinned as he watched Fili and Kili join him. Their long hair flipping back and forth and Dwalin let out a beast-like growl.
Bifur was grinning manically as he beat out rhythms faster than Bilbo thought possible. The shirt the old man wore seemed to strain and Bilbo was sure that it might rip. When Fili and Kili began playing together, trying to outdo the other it was obvious they were well matched. They faced each other as they played, Fili keeping the fast short beats with his head, while Kili swung his head back and forth in a lazy metronome. It was amazing, and Bilbo was happily not paying attention to Thorin.
Until a deep voice came through the music, singing a poetic song, soon to be joined by other voices from the band, and Bilbo felt his mouth go dry. He looked back up at the dark haired man and found him on the end of a piercing blue gaze.
“I am totally fucked.” Bilbo said aloud just before the song ended.
They picked up another song almost immediately and Bilbo downed his beer and began to wonder why he had ever stopped coming to things like this.
~*~
Bilbo walked calmly behind the slightly swaying Bofur, who he had to admit had drank too much. But Bilbo was grinning because it was Bofur, one of the most amusing drunks he had ever known. Therefore, he just gripped the back of the other man’s jacket and followed him, and found himself behind pulled through the crowd in the opposite direction and into backstage. When Bofur finally stumbled them up the four stairs and into the back where the band was packing away their instruments he cheered and was greeted in return.
“So this is Mr.Boggins!” Came a cheery voice and Bilbo scowled and gave Bofur the dirtiest look he could muster. Bofur flinched and backed slowly away from Bilbo.
“I will murder you.” Bilbo said deadpan and Bofur was now cowering behind the tattooed man, Dwalin was it? Then he turned back to the group with a smile. “Bilbo, please.” But everyone was staring at him, and he just perked a brow.
“I like him.” This came from Dwalin, who guffawed and slapped his brother’s shoulder.
“Bilbo then.” This came from Balin. “How is it you became friends with Bofur and we have never met you?”
“Because he’s boring.” Came Bofur’s sing-song voice.
“Unfortunately I suffer the malady of being his childhood friend.” The grouped chuckled at Bofur’s indignant protest.
“Wait!” This came from Kili. “You aren’t Bil, are you?” He had a positively, criminal smile on his face.
“The one with the thigh tattoo?” This came from his fairer brother, who had a matching smirk.
Bilbo felt his face go hot. This was just great. He was going to have to murder his best mate, after this mortification.
“The one who once punched a guy in the face for getting too handsy?” Kili continued, bouncing on his toes.
“The one who beat that awful wyrm, Smaug at poker?” Fili and Kili were very much getting into his personal space now.
Bilbo doesn’t want to agree, because really many of those stories ended badly, but before he could answer another voice cut it.
“Fili, Kili your guitars are still out, and lying on the floor.” The gruff tone made the two boys pull back and scamper off towards their things, leaving Bilbo to meet the blue, hawk-like gaze of the eldest Durin. He fights back a flush as Thorin’s eyes rake him from bottom to top.
Introductions quickly followed, including to Bilbo’s surprise, Ori’s older brothers who he had in fact met. Thorin introduced himself last, shaking his hand slowly and lingering. Bilbo was fairly certain that Bofur had damaged their friendship by introducing this man to him.
They ended up at a tiny diner that stayed open late in Bree because of the late pub crowd. Bilbo was certain that the entire company was plotting to get, he and Thorin together at this point. They had been sat in a booth together, though Kili and Fili took the other side. When their uncle, as Bilbo learned, stood to use the loo he was at the end of took steely stares.
“We know you’re Bofur’s friend and all but that’s our uncle and;” Bilbo cut Fili off with a sharp glance, that actually made the boy pale a bit.
“I am quite aware at what is going on here, and although Bofur may be privy to meddle in my love life, you are not. As I have no plans for anything you will leave your threats for someone who might actually be frightened.” Bilbo sipped his tea then and glared at them over the rim. The boys fled under his scrutiny.
From across the diner he heard Dwalin’s booming laughter. “I really like this bloke!”
The night was spent, pleasantly talking with Thorin. However, a majority of it was actually spent in silence, a comfortable sort. Which Bilbo supposed was good, and the conversation they did have was slow and deliberate.
Bilbo found Thorin a contradiction of sorts. The man had two degrees, one of which was a PHD in political science and yet he worked as a mechanic. He was smart and witty, but spoke of the politics in which he studied as if it were an offensive pile of dung. He liked to read, and actually spoke more than one language. It was, to Bilbo, like a breath of fresh air. Whenever he had been attracted to anyone they had always been a bad egg, handsome, rugged, yet nothing more than cruel and often abusive.
As the group left the diner, Bilbo pouring Bofur into the passenger seat, he waved shyly at Thorin who hopped into the cab of his trunk, his nephews swinging into the back. Just as they pulled away Kili hollered.
“What’s the thigh piece of, Mr.Boggins?”
Bilbo had never actually contemplated homicide, not how much cement he would need, or if his trunk could hold a body until that very moment.
~*~
The next morning, Bilbo was dressed in a t-shirt and trousers, feet in thongs as he moved around his shop. It was small, cozy, filled with books and good food. He had, in fact, expanded twice but it seemed he might need to do so again.
Bofur was sitting in the corner, frowning darkly into his coffee, as if it had personally offended him. Bilbo had refused to give him pain medicine, to teach him a lesson for telling tales that were not his own. When the door chimed as a voice called out his name Bilbo went to greet Ori, who was trailing his brothers behind.
Dori greeted him cheerily, but Nori looked just as bad as Bofur. So with a smile he handled the man a cup of black coffee and two small white pills with a warning not to give any to Bofur, before shooing him away.
“Was quite a merry gathering we had last night, wouldn’t you say?” Dori was looking at his nails, with a pleasant smile on his face.
“Yes it was very nice.” Bilbo said, crouching down behind the counter, to hide his blush.
Dori hummed and took the coffee offered by Ori and paid before wandering away. Had the elder man expected him to say more? He wasn’t some bloody, blushing school girl. Ori leaned a hip on the counter next to his head, which he had buried in the cupboard, laying on a bag of coffee beans.
“So you and Thorin huh?” Ori said and laughed as Bilbo cracked his head on the counter.
“It was only last night, not a date.” Bilbo grumbled.
“Thorin never shows interest in anyone. So this is a big thing.” Ori was drinking tea out of his travel mug as Bilbo stood up. “So we’re sort of interested. Being basically family and all. Bofur has been talking about you for ages.”
“Isn’t that just lovely.” Bilbo grumbled and began to angrily make the different coffees and make sure the water tank for the large kettle was full.
“What’s wrong?” Ori said, coming to stand behind Bilbo.
“These stories he’s been telling, about my tattoo, about Smaug. Those are all the beginnings of my relationships, and most of those ended with me being more hurt then I care to explain.” Bilbo threw the empty bags into the bin, and dragged a hand roughly through his hair. Looking around the shop Bilbo through the lift away counter up and strode towards the door. “Man the counter, please, Ori.” He shouted just before the door slammed behind him, leaving deafening silence in his wake.
~*~
The next few days Bilbo stewed, and grumbled. But soon he was over it, Bofur meant no harm, this he was sure of. Therefore, he let it go, mostly, and went on with his life. The Dwarven Company had made no other appearances in his life, besides the brothers ‘Ri, and Bilbo told himself he was happy with that.
One Thursday morning, as he went about stocking the muffins that came with the other baked goods from Bombour’s bakery, Bilbo was surprised to find his light blocked by a towering shadow. Cold ran down his spine, his last relationship with Smaug, had ended violently and the man had promised to get him back one way or another. So as he stood, Bilbo braced himself for the worse and found himself staring at Thorin, whose brow was knitted in worry.
“Are you alright?” The man asked, as Bilbo stood up.
“I am.” He smiled at Thorin. “What are you doing here?”
“I was coming here to ask you out tonight?” Thorin had a small smile.
Bilbo blushed and then smiled. “Sure, I’m off at six.”
~*~
They went out every night for three weeks, even if it was for a walk. Bilbo thought he might be able to make this work.
He was at a pub again, leaning lazily against the bar as he watched Thorin and the Company play their set. They had yet to have sex, and Bilbo was watching Thorin’s deft, thick fingers dance up and down the neck of his guitar.
Thorin had agreed to take it slow, not verbally. But they had spoken about their past relationships. The boiling rage Bilbo had seen in Thorin’s crystal blue eyes after hearing about Smaug’s abuse had made his heart race. In turn he still silently seethed about Thorin’s own pain. How he had kept his family a float after everything. How that snotty, rich, asshole, Thranduil had used Thorin to get to his family.
He took a calming breath and let the music wash over him, calming the anger which boiled over at the edges. As the set ended, Bilbo easily slithered through the crowd and back stage where, Kili confronted him, eyes wide and frantic. He was talking faster than Bilbo could keep up. He did however catch one word, Thranduil. His blood boiled, slapping a hand over Kili’s moth a frowned.
“Where?” Kili gripped his hand and dragged him through halls, and found what could only be called a standoff.
“And here he is.” Came a sickeningly smooth voice, “Your new toy.”
Bilbo wanted to punch something. He wasn’t usually violent, but he made an exception. Thranduil was exactly what he had imagined. Sleek, slick and pompous, it made anger spike in his chest. Before he could pull a reply up through the anger in his head, the tall, blond was in his personal space, leaning towards his face. When the man touched his hip, Bilbo heard a scuffle behind him and knew someone was stopping Thorin.
“You’re cute,” there was breath on his ear, and Bilbo stopped himself from moving. “I’ll give you that.”
“Remove your hand from me, or I will for you.” Bilbo snapped, and he could just feel the grin on the taller man’s face.
“Will you now?” His grip tightened and Bilbo whipped his head back and forth, head-butting the other blond and catching the taller man off his guard. The satisfying crunch of the other’s nose made the slight tilt of Bilbo’s vision worth it.
There was silence for a second before the well-dressed group left, helping the hunched figure of their leader being led away. The silence continued as they watched them leave out of the back door.
“I think you chose good, lad.” Dwain said with a dark chuckle. Then Bilbo’s world tilted completely, and went black.
~*~
Bilbo woke up, and he was greeted with the sight of Thorin in a chair next to his bed. Sitting up he took in the room. It was large, and the bed was plush. He assumed he was in Thorin’s room, if the guitars lining the right wall were anything to go by.
“Do you feel alright?” Thorin placed a hand lightly on his chest, pressing him back into the pillows.
“Fine actually. I just haven’t done that in years.” Bilbo rubbed the bruised spot on his forehead.
Thorin leaned into his personal space. “It was brilliant.” Their lips met then, not for the first time, but most definitely, the most passionate a kiss had ever been between them.
Bilbo treaded his hands through Thorin’s loose, dark hair pulling the man down farther. The larger man kept himself hovered above Bilbo, on his forearms. This let Bilbo sneak his hands under Thorin’s tank top, and up his back.
Their clothing came off slowly, peeled back slowly to reveal flesh they had both longed to see, touch and taste. Thorin’s mouth latched his mouth to Bilbo’s neck, pulling gasps and moans from the smaller man’s swollen lips.
“Thorin.” Bilbo gasped, clawing at his back. “Please.”
The larger man, slid slowly down Bilbo’s body peppering kisses and languid licks to any skin her could find. His hand ran across the black ink on the pale flesh, the large dragon and mountain which curled up towards his groin. Thorin nibbled on the ink, scarred skin causing Bilbo to squirm. Licking a wide stripe from base to tip of Bilbo’s stiff member, which lay against his quivering stomach Thorin chuckled.
“This is beautiful.” Bilbo gripped Thorin’s hair, causing the larger man to chuckle again.
Bilbo thought this was entirely unfair, seeing as Thorin still had his briefs on. But any thoughts of this were lost as Thorin began to suck him off. He keened and moaned toes and fingers curling involuntarily.
The bearded man let the teased member slide from his mouth with an obscene pop, and easily moved up to kiss Bilbo’s parted lips, but kept himself hovering just above Bilbo. Teasing Bilbo, who attempted to arch up into him.
“Don’t tease.” The smaller man whimpered, and sighed as Thorin moved off him and stripped himself and grabbed something off the dresser before coming back.
With sudden urgency Thorin claimed Bilbo’s lips, and began to prepare him. It took longer than Bilbo would have liked, but when Thorin finally put his legs over those broad shoulders, he moaned. As Thorin slid home, they moaned in unison. The first roll of hips was heavenly and not enough.
“Harder.” Bilbo growled.
Thorin snapped his hips back and forth quickly. The pace became brutal, and Thorin was able to find the bundle of nerves, which caused Bilbo’s legs to go slightly rigid and back arch. He aimed to hit it every time. Bilbo was practically, bent in half, and he was making obscene noises that urged Thorin on, a low growl was rumbling through the taller man’s chest.
Bilbo came hard, eyes wide, mouth gaping and the clenching of his body around Thorin brought the other to completion.
In the afterglow, they lay there boneless. Thorin began to chuckle.
“What?” Bilbo grumbled, one eye popping open.
“So much for slow.”
“Fuck slow.” Bilbo twitched his feet and Thorin rolled off him, and lounged next to him.
“You’re amazing.” Thorin grinned and kissed him.
Bilbo felt something blossom in his chest at that. I’m so fucked, he thought as he pulled Thorin close again.