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Thorin Oakenshield knew that life wasn't fair.
His kingdom had been taken over by a dragon, his supposed allies refused to help him, he had very few volunteers for the quest to take back his homeland, he had everyone and their damn mother trying to stop him from taking back his homeland, and now he had a hobbit following him around like a lost puppy.
He supposed it was his own fault, really. The hobbit following him around, not the dragon. But the road was long and lonely, and Bilbo had looked up at him with those damn brown eyes, filled with admiration and respect. Then they reached the shapeshifter's house and Bilbo had been convinced to go drink for drink with Fíli and Kíli using Beorn's ale, and things had gone downhill from there.
Thorin was sure it was his nephews who had pushed Bilbo into his room and shut the door behind him, giggling helplessly. The little hobbit had tottered over to the bed, face determined, and Thorin had sighed heavily and thrown back the blankets, ready to rise and send the hobbit back on his way to his own bed.
Bilbo had thrown himself forward before Thorin could lift a leg, crawling onto the bed and onto Thorin's lap. His face had been flushed and red, and his eyes had been hazy, but the small giggle he had given as he leaned in to press their lips together was anything but innocent.
And Thorin? Well, he was only a dwarf, after all, not a god. How was he supposed to resist when such a delectable gift was literally on his lap?
So he hadn't. Resisted that is. He had pulled Bilbo down and rolled them over, pinning the halfling to the bed and seeing just how many ways he could make him moan.
Bilbo hadn't disappointed.
And the next day, Thorin had awoken to the little creature clinging to him, mumbling sleepily and nuzzling the dwarf king's neck happily.
Thorin had felt something stir in his stomach then. It was warm, fuzzy and all together unpleasant.
This wouldn't end well.
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Thorin was right. Of course he was, he was a king, and he was never wrong.
Bilbo had been a virgin. Thorin was sure the hobbit had mumbled that at some point the night before, but he hadn't really been paying attention to what Bilbo was saying, unless it was 'Harder' or 'More' or, his personal favourite, 'Thorin, yes!'
And the thing about virgins...
The thing about virgins was that they had a lot of trouble differentiating the feelings of their orgasms with the feelings of their hearts. They seemed to think that there was no way something could feel so good, not unless there was love behind it.
So Thorin found himself with a hobbit follower everywhere he went.
Which brought him back to life's not fair. The perfect example of this being young Ori. Ori, who was as virginal as Bilbo had been, who was taken to bed in a similar manner by an equally intoxicated Dwalin.
Only Ori seemed to understand.
He didn't follow Dwalin like a puppy. He seemed content to never speak to the other dwarf ever again, as far as Thorin could tell. Ori didn't hang off of Dwalin's every word, he didn't follow him everywhere, he didn't try to feed him strange foods or simply sit there and hold his hand.
No, that was reserved for Thorin.
Thorin got the little hobbit humming behind him as they entered Mirkwood. He got the little hobbit who collected flowers, braided them into a wreath and shyly offered it to him. He got the little hobbit who looked like he was going to cry when he simply stared at the wreath, prompting him to shove it on his head to starve off the tears. He got the little hobbit who insisted on bringing him his food and then curled up in his bedroll, waiting for him. He got the little hobbit who clung to him in sleep, sighing happily and purring of all things.
Thorin had tried to set distance between them, he really had. But the food Bilbo brought him was delicious, so he wasn't going to turn it down. He did enjoy conversing with Bilbo, so he was content to let the hobbit walk beside him. And having Bilbo in his bedroll was not a hardship when the nights were cold and another body was a welcome warmth, especially when Bilbo looked up at him through his lashes, bit his lip and undid the buttons of his shirt, letting the material fall open as he bared himself for Thorin's pleasure.
And Thorin had meant to resist, really, he had. But Bilbo made such delicious sounds, and Thorin really didn't want to embarrass the halfling, who had offered himself so brazenly.
So Thorin bit his tongue and let it happen.
But then the elves happened. Thorin was taken captive, cursing, and he only hoped that the rest of the company could make it out.
No such luck.
After an apparent spider battle Thorin found himself with companions in the cells over. However, no one could tell him what happened to Bilbo. He asked them all, multiple times, and had them retrace everything, tell him when they had all seen Bilbo last, but no luck.
Thorin remained alone in his cell. The others were paired up randomly, but Thorin was thankful to hear that Fíli and Kíli were in the same cell. At least his nephews were together.
Three hours after his companions joined him in imprisonment a loud argument started up in the cell next to Thorin's.
"Quit lookin' at me like that, lad."
"I'm not looking at you in any particular way, Mister Dwalin."
"I didn't ask te be stuck with ye."
"I know, Mister Dwalin. You made your opinion of me perfectly clear!"
"Damn it, Ori, don't start that again!"
"Start what again, Mister Dwalin? Mahal forbid I do something that upsets you!"
"I told ye, damn it! It's just how I talk in bed!"
"Well, I do not appreciate being compared to a cheap whore, and I can't imagine anyone who would!"
"Damn it, Ori, I don't think of ye that way! I was just- I was in the heat of the moment!"
"No matter! It's all over and done now, no need to dwell on it any further, Mister Dwalin!"
"It's not over, not by a long shot!"
"What do you want me to say? Please, Mister Dwalin, I'm sorry for yelling at you when you called me a slut?"
"I swear Ori, any more cheek from you and I'll-"
"You'll what? You'll not leave a tip?"
"Ori-"
"Honestly, it's not like I was going to profess my love for you! I know it was only a onetime thing, no matter what I felt, so you really didn't need to-"
There was a rustle, a body moved and then a loud moan cut through the silence. Thorin shook his head, and he could hear the rest of the company murmuring amongst themselves, including Dori and Nori, who sounded less than pleased.
"Damn it, Ori, I want ye. It was never a onetime thing. And I won't call ye anything you don't like."
"Oh, Mister Dwalin..."
Thorin grunted in disgust at the wet sounds of kissing that followed. Why did they have to be in the cell next to him? And where was Bilbo?
"Get your hands off my brother, Fundinson!"
Well, with Dori yelling like that the guards would be along shortly, and if they were merciful Ori and Dwalin would be split up.
But where was Bilbo?
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Bilbo, it turned out, was sneaking around wearing a magic ring that turned him invisible. Thorin was sure the world was just laughing at him now.
But still, the little hobbit got them out of the cells, into the barrels and down the river to Laketown. As soon as Thorin had set foot on dry land he had found himself with an armful of shireling, clinging to him and pressing desperate kisses to his lips. Thorin wasn't sure how his arms ended up around Bilbo's waist, or how Bilbo ended up lifted off the ground until he was forced to wrap his legs around Thorin's hips, but he simply let it slide as he plundered the hobbit's mouth.
They had drawn apart and stomped into Laketown looking like drowned rats. Thorin hadn't removed his arm from Bilbo's waist, purely because he didn't want the hobbit turning invisible and running off before he could finish his job. And he only ordered a single room for them at the inn because Bilbo would simply sneak out of his to join Thorin anyway, so what was the point in paying for a room they wouldn't use?
Thorin told himself that he was not nervous over Bilbo's safety when he sent the hobbit into the mountain. He was simply worried about his treasure, that was all. Not the hobbit.
And when the dragon was dead and they were all inside the mountain again, Thorin refused to believe that his eyes drifted to the hobbit more than the treasure. He only stopped to pick through the treasure once, and that was when a large orange-brown topaz the same colour as Bilbo's eyes appeared before him. He picked the jewel up and slid it into his pocket, unthinkingly.
The Arkenstone was found and Thorin dimly registered that he ordered it to be returned to its place above the throne. He didn't honestly care.
So uninterested in the treasure was he that when the Men came asking for a share to rebuild Dale Thorin gave it to them without a second thought. When Thranduil came for his share Thorin told him that there was no way on Middle-Earth after Thranduil had imprisoned them, and then the damn elf King had produced the sword that had been confiscated from Thorin during his captivity, a sword he had grown fond of, and not just because the inscriptions on it matched those on Bilbo's. So he negotiated with the elf for a fair price.
When the orcs and wargs were spotted by the retreating elf army Thorin had plenty of time to send the call to the Iron Hills and Laketown. They were well prepared for the attack, and suffered minimal casualties.
And now that the war was over, the dwarrows were flocking back to Erebor and all was said and done, Thorin was faced with a rather annoying problem.
Bilbo intended to return to the Shire.
By all rights Thorin should be ecstatic. The little hobbit had been a downright nuisance, following him around like that. It was about time Bilbo returned home!
But then Thorin woke up the first day after Bilbo had left and reached for the hobbit, only to find the space on his bed next to him empty.
Thorin had climbed from the bed only to swear at the cold. Bilbo always rose early, visited the attached bathroom and lit a fire before curling back up into bed, the cold stone floor not affecting his thick hobbit feet.
Thorin had hobbled over and lit the fire before turning to dress for the day, only to find that his clothes were not laid out for him. Bilbo always did that.
In a foul mood now Thorin had gone down to have breakfast, only to find the selection lacking. A quick talk with Bombur showed that Bilbo often joined him in the kitchen, preparing Thorin's favourite foods personally.
Thorin had eaten his less-than-appealing breakfast and headed to his study, to find that none of the candles were lit and his correspondence for the day were not in order. Once again, thanks to the lack of Bilbo.
Thorin declared that it was enough.
He summoned Dwalin and demanded the dwarf ready a squad of guards and have them mounted. As soon as they were ready Thorin road out, intent on finding his burglar.
He didn't have to look far.
Bilbo and Gandalf had only made it as far as Dale before the wizard had been waylaid, the men of Dale needing his advice on some planning issues. Thorin had only stopped by to ask when the wizard and hobbit had been seen last, and was told to check the large mansion up on the hill.
Bilbo had greeted him with a smile and cheerful wave as though nothing was wrong, which had infuriated Thorin even more. How dare the hobbit not act as though he was unaffected by this! His life should be falling apart without Thorin! He shouldn't be so cheerful and happy!
Thorin had reached down and pulled the hobbit up onto his pony, holding him tight in front of him. Ignoring Bilbo's irate questions and shouts he had turned to Gandalf who was watching the proceedings with much amusement and told the wizard to send Bilbo's stuff back to the mountain when he could.
And then he had ridden back to Erebor, ignoring Bilbo's demands to be let go.
It was only when he had dragged the hobbit back into their bedroom that he stopped to hear what Bilbo had to say. And then he cursed himself for not listening earlier.
Apparently Bilbo was heading home to pack up his hobbit hole, hand the keys over to his cousin Drogo and then return to Erebor and Thorin's side.
Thorin had stared at the hobbit, mumbled something about his breakfast not being right and then crushed the halfling to his chest, kissing him fiercely.
This time when Bilbo went on his way Thorin didn't panic. He moped and whined until Balin told him to find something to fill his time, like running his kingdom.
Instead, Thorin headed to the forge. He lost himself in the art that had kept his family and people fed when they had nowhere to go. He took his time and worked carefully, and a month later when Bilbo returned Thorin had a consort's crown waiting for him, the orange-brown topaz at the centre surrounded by emeralds and rubies.
Thorin didn't allow Bilbo to dwell on the crown for long, he simply dragged him back to their room and showed him why Bilbo couldn't leave for a month ever again.
And after, when Thorin held Bilbo close and the hobbit was giggling and squirming most pleasantly in his arms, Thorin decided that maybe Bilbo following him around wasn't so bad. And Thorin was most grateful that the shireling had been a virgin when he had fallen into Thorin's bed and arms, as Thorin hated the idea of anyone else touching Bilbo.
And now Thorin thought that maybe life wasn't always fair, but he could live with that.