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Thorin's chest heaved, his body curved in a hunch, one hand fisted in the pillow beside Bilbo's head, while the other, strong, thick fingered fist gripped the flimsy headboard. His breath came in damp, hot puffs, as his body settled, still tingling, pleasantly sticky and sweaty. Signs of a job well done...
Bilbo's thin fingers were rubbing, up along the cut of his stomach, over the planes of his chest, fingering their way through fields of soft, dark hair. He was stretching, almost feline in the way he arched his spine and his shoulders, toes, and the back of his head dug into the mattress. Thorin watched every movement of muscle under the hobbit's skin and eyed the satisfied smile the smaller was wearing. He looked like the cat that got the cream, sated, positively purring.
Bilbo was making little, exhaling hums and mewls as they caught their breath together, still in a post-sex haze, the room was thick with the smell of it. How Thorin had become so besotted with the halfling, the dwarf still wasn't certain. But if this was a perk of that state of being, he wasn't going to complain. It had been too long since he had a bedmate to keep him warm and well cared for. He released the pillow to drag an affectionate finger over the apple of Bilbo's cheek, tucking away a stray, sweat dampened curl behind one large, pointed ear. That smile of Bilbo's was so disarming, if also a bit disconcerting, and Thorin wondered briefly if the hobbit knew as much. He wondered if the hobbit knew just what each vibrant expression he made did to the royal.
Bilbo's petting hands wandered up the sides of his neck, hot, still a bit sweaty across his skin, and Thorin, for a moment, reflexively tensed. When Bilbo's grasp only tugged him downward for a lazy kiss, those hands simply resting on his strong muscled throat. As their lips met, Thorin's moved to make their bodies separate with a slick sound. A groan tore from his throat as Thorin's heavy length pulled, wet, slippery, and spent from Bilbo's reddened backside. His round, supple cheeks were still warm and stinging from Thorin's thrusts. It was a pleasant afterburn, a tingle that boiled up desire in the pit of the halflings stomach.
A reedy whine vibrated against Thorin's lips from Bilbo's mouth, and the prince felt that kiss swollen mouth twist into a pout. The loss of Thorin in him was not a welcome one, apparently. Bilbo's legs slid up to clasp around Thorin's waist, greedy for more. With a burst of strength, aided by catching Thorin off guard, he forced the dwarf down against his body. Suddenly every bit of skin that could possibly be pressed together, was, and Bilbo was so warm. Like a little hearth burned inside him, he radiated heat.
Thorin's throat and chest rumbled with a heady growl. He noticed near immediately that there was a small, familiar thickness prodding against his stomach. They'd only just begun to wind down from their last forceful bout of lovemaking, but Bilbo was fast to recover. This was something Thorin was beginning to learn about him. Yes, already, Bilbo was rutting up against him once more, wanton, stirring, hardening. Every bit of the hobbit was writhing beneath him, panting for more. Surely this hobbit did not have the stamina for such things? It seemed almost preposterous that the hobbit could beat Thorin in any arena of the physical sort, but the hobbit's spread, coiling legs and dersiring, frisky hands were touching everywhere they could.
"Already?" Thorin inquired on a breath, slightly incredulous. The dwarf began nuzzling his long, pointed nose down into the crook of Bilbo's shoulder, smelling the musk of sweat and sex strongly on the hobbit's skin. Even though his own length had not yet begun to harden once more, he could not resist scraping his teeth there against the skin beneath his mouth. Bilbo tasted of salt and flowery oils which they'd used to ease the penetration of Thorin's hardness into Bilbo's waiting body. The brief memory of the way Bilbo had gasped and whimper not moments ago was still fresh in his mind. A cry of his name like he were a god had fallen from Bilbo's lips. Thorin certainly wanted to hear it again. Bilbo's arms were wrapping around him, those fingers of his, so swift, began tangling into hair. And Bilbo was quick to start tugging lightly, encouraging Thorin to lift his head so they could share another kiss.
It was all hot tongue and heavy breaths, teeth nipping and gentle suckling of swollown lips. Thorin was certain his mouth might never look the same having kissed Bilbo like this. He didn't mind that thought at all.
"Yes, already. I am not yet finished with you, my King," Bilbo replied lustily, his head canting up so his tongue and teeth could skate the edge of one of Thorin's ear, the resulting shudder Bilbo earned from the King was only furthering his state of arousal. Thoring was a bit surprised at Bilbo's stamina. He assumed that the only things at which hobbits excelled, were cooking, and being terribly reasonable folk. Sex had never really occured to him. He was glad it had now, and his hands strayed thankfully over Bilbo's sides, down along soft skin and over slim hips, taking in the feel of how the halfling shifted beneath him. Every pore of the little man's body was begging for more.
"You will be the end of me, Bilbo Baggins," Thorin chided, though there was no malice in it. How could he hold anything against Bilbo when the hobbit was grinding against him, thrusting like a bitch in heat desperate for it, humping for friction, and waiting for the pleasure of release. "How many times do you intend to have me before the sun rises?"
As he spoke he tried to will his body to recover, though much as he'd have liked to simply slide into the hot flesh of the other, he was worn. Three times already they'd been at each other, fingers and lips and tongue and teeth, bodies thrusting like animals, and the hobbit was still not yet satisfied. It was maddening.
"At least once more, if not twice... Three times?" Bilbo was mocking him, playfully, stirring up anger from Thorin's prideful nature. Oh did he not think Thorin could keep up? The King would show him.
"Seven... Seven is a good number," Bilbo's tone dipped and he gave Thorin's ear a cheeky nip. Bilbo's whole body shivered when he heard the resulting growl Thorin offered. Thorin purred like a large cat, the deep, throaty rumble was incredible. His nose was nuzling again, this time against Bilbo's cheek.
"As you wish. Tomorrow you will not walk properly and the company will think you spent the night riding a horse," Thorin warned, pushing Bilbo harder into the mattress and separating them just enough that he could gaze down at that mirthful face, eyes full of desire. This young hobbit desired him, and not just once, but many times. How could he possibly deny him that pleasure?
"Leave me sore then, if you will. It is nothing I am not asking for," Bilbo replied, hips lifting, trying to press his erection up against Thorin's body again. His words were salacious and they left Thorin's face feeling too heated, too red. The dwarf held in a breath and spread the hobbit's legs, Bilbo was quick to comply, letting the King push his legs wide. Thorin would simply have to make do with his fingers instead until his body could catch up with the spry, young hobbit's.
In this, Bilbo, of course, could not find reason for complaint.