The Home

The Sackville-Bagginses

     It was awkward at first, but eventually the both of them adapted to life with the other, Thorin settling down much better than he thought he would. Every now and then Bilbo would start in surprise when Thorin called to him from the other room, so used to being alone was he, and he even fell out of bed in fright one night when Thorin turned over next to him; but his presence always brought a smile and a blush to his face. and he found himself unconsciously winding his fingers around Thorin's or brushing against his shoulder, still trying to cope with the crushing relief that Thorin was, yes, still alive, and here, and loved him. They began to go on walks together, strolling along Bilbo's favorite paths, holding hands as the hobbit pointed out the sights, slowly learning the ins and outs of daily life in the Shire.
     One afternoon, they decided to visit the market, picking up fruits and vegetables for dinner, but as Thorin bent to examine the cucumbers, Bilbo half choked and practically dived behind the nearest house, motioning for him to follow. Mildly confused, Thorin knelt down as well, as Bilbo quickly checked over his shoulder.
     "What are we doing?" Thorin asked, looking skeptically up at him.
     "Hiding," Bilbo whispered, "from my relatives, Otho and Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. Ever since I came back, they've been hounding me, hoping I'll let slip where I've got my boards of treasure buried."
     Thorin snorted. Bilbo shot a playful glare at him. "You may think it's funny, but just try going out for a morning stroll and hearing your name screamed at you, and then you're chased all over the Shire. It is not...the most pleasant experience."
     Thorin smiled. "Well, then, shouldn't we settle this once and for all?"
     "I'd like to see you try," Bilbo returned, peering out from around the corner, "I already have." Thorin made to stand up, but Bilbo immediately pulled him back down. "What are you doing?!"
     "I'm going to tell them off," Thorin said matter-of-factly, but Bilbo held him fast.
     "No!"
     "But you said you would like to see me try!"
     "I was joking! They would never let us out of their sights!" He peered one was again around the corner. "I believe we are safe." Slowly, he crept out and stood up, Thorin following suit. No one came running at them, and Bilbo sighed with relief. "Well, that's over. Shall we continue?" he asked nonchalantly, walking over to the vegetables once again like nothing had ever happened. Thorin shook his head, smiling, and followed.
     Bilbo showed Thorin how to check the ripeness of a tomato, how to make sure the lettuce wasn't wilted and which kinds of apples were the best for cooking. While Bilbo had to correct him a few times, he eventually picked out decent apples and Bilbo crossed the square to look at bread. Thorin followed behind him, feeling rather lost, but those feelings disappeared when Bilbo turned back to him, winding his fingers through his own.
     "Are you ready?" he asked, checking to make sure they had everything.
     "I am," Thorin confirmed, smiling as he busily poked through the food.
     "Tomatoes—yes—lettuce—mm hm—yes, we are good." They turned away from the market, sliding through the crowd of bustling hobbits, for the market was always busy, heads turning to follow them skeptically as Bilbo led Thorin out by the hand.
     "They're all looking at us," Thorin grumbled, glancing over his shoulder.
     "It's your blinding majesty," Bilbo offered, leaning into him as they stepped into the road. "They can't help but stare."
     "Are you sure it's not something else?" Thorin teased, nuzzling his shoulder, causing Bilbo to laugh.
     "No, I am quite sure!"
     Taking bags of food home, they were talking and laughing, almost back to Bag End, when a shriek shattered the silence.
     "BILBO BAGGINS!"
     Bilbo's face turned white as paper. "Go, go, go!" he said hurriedly, breaking into a run, Thorin behind him. Taking the steps two at a time, they dashed inside, slamming and locking the door behind them, breathing hard. There was quiet for a few seconds as they listened for pursuit, but nothing seemed to be wrong—
     BANG BANG BANG!
     "I know you're in there, you rotten thief!" the voice shouted, "Let us in!"
     "Definitely not when you ask like that," Bilbo said, giving Thorin a glance. "Do you see what I mean?"
     Thorin quirked his eyebrows. "Yes, I think I do." They crossed into the pantry, Lobelia and Otho Sackville-Baggins still pounding on the door, but they both ignored their shouts.
     "You know," Thorin mused, "I have never seen you run like that before. You have faced goblins, orcs, spiders, elves and men with hardly a quiver, but now you turn tail like a rabbit."
     Bilbo turned indignantly from the shelves of the pantry, an outraged expression on his face, but Thorin just laughed. "I can see why!"
     Giving him a playful shove, Bilbo strode out of the pantry. "You're putting away the food by yourself, for that!"
     Thorin bent to his task, sliding the groceries onto their shelves and hanging the bags on the wall. When he walked back into the sitting room, Bilbo was sitting on the couch, a book in his lap. "When do you think they'll leave?" Thorin sighed, sliding down next to him as the banging echoed throughout the house.
     "Oh, if we're lucky, within the next hour," Bilbo replied, not looking up.
     Thorin sighed again. "Are you sure I can't go out there and talk to them?" he asked after a while.
     "I am sure," Bilbo said, giving him a stern glance. "Trust me, I have tried it."
     "If you insist, treasure of my treasures," Thorin conceded, planting a kiss on his cheek and reading over his shoulder.
     However, over the next few weeks, the interruptions grew more and more frequent, Bilbo and Thorin continually ducking behind hedges and pulling each other into doorways to avoid being spotted. Thorin began to get quite annoyed.
     One night a couple weeks later, Bilbo was sitting on the bed in his nightshirt, waiting for Thorin, his bare legs dangling over the side absentmindedly. He wondered what to make for breakfast tomorrow. Maybe muffins. Or toast. He would have to ask.
     Eventually, Thorin walked in from putting the last of the dishes away, and he paused in the doorway, a smile spreading across his face at the sight of Bilbo waiting.
     "Do you remember that night in Erebor when you waited for me, love?" he said, stepping into the room.
     Bilbo smiled. "You swept me off my feet."
     "And you were cold, so I gave you my tunic."
     "It was a little big."
     "It was, but it looked good on you."
     Bilbo looked shyly at his feet. "You told me I was beautiful," he remembered.
     "And I stand by what I said," Thorin remarked, pulling off his tunic.
     "You can't mean that," Bilbo said, swinging his legs over to face him.
     "Yes, I do," Thorin said, pausing in untying his shirt to give him a kiss on the cheek. "I said it then and I still mean it now."
     "I don't believe you," Bilbo said, smiling mischievously, tracing up Thorin's leg with his toes.
     "You said that then, too," Thorin remarked, his eyes sparkling, "Do I have to prove it for you again, my treasure?"
     "Always," Bilbo decided, gripping Thorin's leg between his thighs and grinning up at him, watching while the dwarf lord pulled off his shirt.
     "Well then," Thorin said, shaking his hair behind him and staring seriously into Bilbo's eyes, then laughed. "You know, you have hardly changed from that night."
     "Really?" Bilbo said, raising an eyebrow, mildly offended.
     "In a good way," Thorin amended, leaning slowly towards him, smiling seductively. "You still look the same. A little rounder, a little older, maybe, but just as beautiful. Your hands just as elegant, your legs are just as soft—" he crept up onto the bed, Bilbo crawling back before him, grinning. "Your waist just as shapely, your shoulders just as tempting—" He moved forward, Bilbo blushing scarlet, retreating further and further until he pressed himself into the headboard, fingers digging into the pillows, chest heaving and eyes shining. "Your neck just as graceful, your cheeks just as fair, your eyes—" Thorin leaned in closer, staring at him as Bilbo shrank back, reveling in the way his chest moved as he breathed and the light in his face as he pressed himself as far away from Thorin as he could get. "Your eyes just as lovely, your lips...."
     "Yes?" Bilbo breathed, his fingers digging into the pillows, his eyes on Thorin's mouth. Thorin moved forwards, his face almost touching Bilbo's, his breath warm, his dark eyes fixed on the hobbit's mouth.
     "Your lips just as I remember them." He leaned forwards, kissing him, pressing him into the headboard, but Bilbo smiled and pulled away.
     "And how is that?" he prompted, still pushing himself as far away as he could get.
     "You know I do not have the words to describe them," Thorin murmured, leaning in again, but Bilbo ducked under his arm with a laugh and threw his arms around his neck, gently biting his earlobe. Thorin, caught off guard, rolled onto his back, hoping to shake him, but Bilbo only moved his lips to his neck and clutched him tighter. Thorin rolled over again, Bilbo wrapping his legs around his waist and holding fast, despite Thorin's efforts.
     "Would you let go? I want to kiss you!" Thorin laughed, on his stomach as Bilbo sat on top of him, kissing his neck passionately.
     "No—I promised I wouldn't!" he returned, squeezing tighter and nipping Thorin's ear.
     "I don't think that it applies to now!" Thorin said, trying to pull his arms away.
     "It always applies," Bilbo smiled, unlatching an arm to brush Thorin's hair out of the way, vigorously kissing his neck. Thorin saw his chance and he took it—flinging Bilbo's arm off, he turned over, Bilbo falling backwards into the blankets, then threw himself on top of him, kissing him fervently through their laughter, his hands sliding down his body, legs tangling, turning over and over, the blankets tangling around them. They curved around each other, Thorin clutching at Bilbo's thighs, Bilbo's hands on his back, drawing each other as close as they could get, kissing necks and cheeks and lips, chests heaving, eyes shining, gasping with pleasure.
     BANG BANG BANG!
     Thorin paused, breathing hard. "Damn them," he growled suddenly, and then, unwinding himself from Bilbo, he swung his legs off the side of the bed and walked quickly for the door. It took Bilbo a moment to realize what was happening.
     "What are you doing?" he squealed, quickly untangling himself from the blankets and hurrying after him, Thorin's fast strides echoing through the hallway.
     BANG BANG BANG!
     But Bilbo arrived too late. Thorin reached the hallway, strode to the door, grasped the handle, and flung it open. Sure enough, Otho and Lobelia stood in the doorway, their expressions of anger turning to shock as shirtless, muscular Thorin stood threateningly in the doorway.
     "I expect you've come to see Mr. Bilbo Baggins," the dwarf lord growled threateningly. Before they could answer, though, he forged ahead. "You know full well he doesn't want to talk with you, and frankly, neither do I."
     "But we—" Lobelia started, but Thorin spoke loudly over her.
     "Not only have you been hounding us for weeks now, but you also see fit to interrupt our evening!"
     "Now wait—"
     "And if you ever come here again at this unseemingly hour, I may retrieve my sword and have your heads at the gate! Now get out of here, and stop bothering us, unless you want me to change my mind and fetch my sword now!" Thorin shouted, glaring dangerously down at the two hobbits.
     Otho and Lobelia fled like rabbits, not stopping to look behind them as they ran down the lane. Thorin, breathing hard, firmly closed the door behind him and turned back inside. Bilbo was standing against the wall, still in only his nightshirt, horrified, his face as white as a sheet as he stared at the door.
     "They won't be bothering us again," Thorin clarified, a steely glint in his eyes, "At least not tonight."
     "I cannot believe you just did that," Bilbo said faintly, his gaze flicking to Thorin. "That was amazing."
     "Maybe you should have let me talk to them sooner," Thorin grinned.
     "Maybe," Bilbo laughed disbelievingly, shaking his head. "I would never have found the courage to say anything like that."
     "You have far more courage than I could ever have, my love," Thorin said, crossing the room to him and sweeping him up in his arms, "now—let's get back to where we were." Bilbo laughed, his bare legs draped over Thorin's arm, and he pressed his lips to Thorin's cheek as he was carried back to the bedroom.
     "Let's," he agreed, hugging Thorin's face close, Thorin closing his eyes with happiness, laying him back on the bed before tilting his head up and caressing his throat with his tongue.
     "Much better," he murmured, sliding himself on top of Bilbo again, who wrapped a leg around him and stroked his face provocatively.
     "It would be better if your tongue was inside my mouth," he whispered playfully, brushing his hair back from his face. 
     "Well, then," Thorin said, his voice low, "let's make it better." He leaned forwards, mouthing Bilbo's lips, enjoying the rhythm and taste before truly leaning in, pushing his tongue deep inside Bilbo's mouth, and Bilbo responded, curving into Thorin, and winding his tongue around Thorin's. Slowly, their hands caressed each other again, and Thorin slid Bilbo's nightshirt up around his waist, massaging his thighs, pressing his whole body into Bilbo's. The hobbit responded, opening under his touch like a flower, sliding his hands down his back and pressing his hips into Thorin, curving to fit the shape of him. Desire rose in both of them, and they began to move faster, turning over, moaning with pleasure. Wrapped so fully in each other, they did not care about the passage of time as the stars rose higher in the sky and the moon set, awake late into the night, kissing deeply, loving deeper.