Well, here it is! The very first, official Talarin one-shot. This one happens to be set directly after the final chapter of Soul Healing (i.e. Talaitha and Thorin are still in Nemere), but the others will inevitably have time-jumps.
The idea for this one-shot actually came from LianaDare8. Talaitha just got a bit carried away. *giggles* (Hint: It's rated M)
Images for this installment can be found on my profile (scroll down past Soul Healing's images).
Since you were all so kind as to review SH's last chapter, I'll respond here (funny how I just assume you're all reading this XD). You're all wonderful. *hugs*
BlackBaccaraRose: No sequel, not in the traditional sense, at least. This one-shot series could be thought of as one, though.
LianaDare8: Your wish is my command!
superhyperjan: Thank you. Not saying goodbye to this 'verse yet, though. :)
draegon-fire: HEAs. Aren't they just lovely?
Skatingfaery: Thank you!
Guest: I guess this can be thought of as a sequel of sorts?
kaia: THANK YOU. :D
BeatofHisHeart: Thank you! I hope you enjoy the first installment. :)
Just4Me: Thank you for sticking with Soul Healing from the very beginning. You and a few others have, and that's remarkable to me. I do indeed have more in store for Talarin. ;)
An Echo In Time: I dish out large helpings of angst but wash them down with equally large helpings of sickly-sweet fluff. :)
EroSlackerMicha: I definitely don't have another full-length story in me! Not a Hobbit one, at least. :p
Forever Fanfiction Lover22: Soul Healing is over, but there's more Thorin/Talaitha!
Little Gertrude: Wow, thank you. I do intend to keep writing; it's kind of inevitable in my field. XD
UnderRugSwept13: Ohhh, Kili and Fili. Well, Fili has his OC, but do you have an idea for Kili?
WolfishPennings: Meet the parents? *gulps* I'll try!
Beloved Daughter: Future projects. Well, this. And I have a Guy of Gisborne story in the works but currently only in my brain, lol. I hope to start writing it this month!
anna pantelarou: You're welcome! And thank you for reading. :)
xxxMadameMysteryxxx: This is kind of like a sequel, lol.
Nicci1234: I hope this doesn't disappoint!
Sesshomaru's Babydoll: Awwwwww, did she end up naming him Thorin? I can just imagine dwarf!Thorin's reaction to having a puppy named after him. XD And thank you, dear, for Soul Healing. *hugs*
Queen of Erebor: Thank you!
girl43: Thorin romping through the meadow...quite a sight, huh? And bless him, he studied up just so he could recognize her namesake flower. XD *hugs*
Disclaimer: I don't own Thorin, unless he's in relation to Talaitha, who I definitely do own.
You had Jesus on your breath,
And I caught him in mine;
Sweating our confessions,
The undone and the divine.
'Cause this is his body;
This is his love;
Such selfish prayers,
And I can't get enough.
"Bedroom Hymns" Florence + The Machine
Part I: Dance
Dusk is descending as they walk along the cobblestone streets, fingers loosely intertwined. Thorin could imagine more days like this, more carefree romps in the fields. He likes Nemere, and not only because it is Talaitha's home. He likes that the people are welcoming, even if they don't always speak a language he understands. He likes the food, the gold and green landscape, and how civilized Lelle is.
But most of all, he likes seeing Talaitha in her environment, as the guide, rather than as the visitor.
They stop in front of a small house whose sloping roof is adorned with green and yellow tiles. That color combination, he notices, is the most prevalent in the city, which is fitting, considering the island's reputation for healing.
"Is this the inn?" Thorin asks, bemused, because it doesn't seem large enough.
"Of course not. It's my home."
Talaitha sounds nervous, adding to Thorin's confusion. He squeezes her hand, unsure how else to react, and the gesture reassures her enough to unlock the door and lead him inside.
It's dim in the house. Thorin can only make out her silhouette as she flits about the room, rustling papers and occasionally banging things on tables. Then, candle after candle is lit, casting a warm, orange glow on the interior. The first thing he sees are her seven bookshelves, filled to the top with books. Some of them are in the Common Tongue, some in Elvish, but most are in Szila. His gaze moves to her twin daggers, which are displayed crisscrossed on the wall. Her sword is mounted on the opposite wall. It seems a shame for such fine weapons to be mere decoration, but Thorin supposes she has little use for them in Nemere. It's a bittersweet realization, reminding him that violence had been the backdrop for much of their relationship. Well, that would change now.
While Thorin continues to explore her home, flipping through some of the books he can read, Talaitha disappears into her bedroom. She's in there so long that Thorin begins to wonder if she's having second thoughts about their relationship, but just as he considers knocking on the door, it opens.
His jaw drops at the sight that greets him.
Talaitha is standing in the doorway, wearing a midriff-baring costume, like that of the dancers in the market square. Her hips sway as she walks towards him and guides him to a chair, moving away before he can reach out to touch her skin.
"You seemed intrigued by the dancers," she says, getting into position. "So I thought you'd like a private demonstration." Thorin swallows hard and nods. "Mind you, I haven't done this in a long time, but I think my body still remembers."
He watches, transfixed, as her hips begin to sway from side-to-side, then front-to-back in an undulating motion that makes her stomach ripple sensually. Her arms accentuate the supple motions, and, depending on the step, her gaze alternates between him and the floor. With her left foot in front of the right, she pushes her hips out and moves them in a circle, before swinging them around in a slow turn, the blue, layered skirt swishing enticingly around her calves. Her body is hard and soft, strong muscles flexing alongside seductive curves. He longs to touch, to feel that delicious undulation beneath his palms and against his body.
His legs part slightly, warm tendrils of desire snaking down to his groin. Talaitha comes nearer, agonizingly slowly, until she is standing within arms' reach. Somehow he restrains himself from touching, despite the twitch of his fingers. She places a hand on his thigh, and he instinctively spread his legs, allowing her to move between them. Talaitha leans forward, her breasts and bare stomach grazing his clothed chest, a jolt of arousal shooting through his body. His breath hitches when she circles her hips, turning slowly in the cage of his thighs. With her back to him, she bends forward, her arse dangerously close to his groin, tossing her hair as she rises.
"Is this a part of the ceremonial dance, too?" he asks, his voice deep and rough.
Talaitha faces him and steps away, coaxing his legs together. "No," she replies, smiling wickedly. "But I think you'll like this even better."
Thorin's mouth goes dry when she straddles his lap, her thighs spread and her core pressing against him. She rotates her hips, mimicking her previous motion, but this time, he groans as she rocks against his half-hard member, which quickly grows to full hardness. His breeches are uncomfortably tight, and he shifts his hips in an effort to relieve some of the pressure. But all that does is send a jolt to his groin.
Talaitha is enjoying tormenting him far too much, her hands braced on his chest and a smirk on her lips. After months of abstinence, something snaps inside him, and he grips her waist, grinding her core against his thickness. It's his turn to smirk as he's rewarded with a sharp gasp.
"You have teased me long enough," he growls and surges up to kiss her. Their lips meet in a bruising encounter, his tongue seeking entrance almost immediately. It's passionate and rough and not at all how he'd planned this reunion to be. But they both have so many suppressed emotions-good and bad-that it's perfect.
He pushes up her skirt, cursing at how much fabric there is, and trails his hands up her bare thighs until they reach their apex. His fingers find moisture there, as they stroke her vagina, while his other hand rests on the small of her back. His thumb circles her clit, gently at first, picking up speed and pressure as her breathing grows increasingly ragged. He sees her approaching climax, but before she can reach it, she pushes his hand away and pulls his erection from his breeches.
He hisses when her hand wraps around the base, stroking along the length to the engorged head. Fluid leaks from the tip, and she spreads it as she circles the glans with her thumb. While she slowly brings him apart in her hand, she kisses him, her tongue swirling against his so sensually that it steals his breath. His nerve endings are on fire, and heat pools in his belly.
"I need you." Thorin intends for it to sound like a demand, but it's more akin to a plea. "Take me. I cannot endure this torment."
Talaitha complies, lifting onto her knees and holding him steady at her entrance. Their gazes lock as the head of his cock breaches her folds, and she slides down onto him. He groans at the tight, slick heat that envelopes him, so familiar yet almost foreign. There was a time when he thought he'd never experience this again.
He is completely sheathed, their pelvises touching, and he holds for a moment to enjoy the sensation. Thorin is blessed with both girth and length, as is wont of dwarves, but he feels even larger buried inside her, the tip of his erection brushing her cervix. She takes him, though, with only the slightest wince of pain.
"Move," she breathes, leaning forward to brace her hands on the back of the chair.
Thorin obliges, guiding her up with his hands on her hips, then thrusting up as he lowers her. He repeats the motion over and over, relishing in the way her lips part to emit the most gloriously soft sounds. In this position, her clit rubs against his pubic bone and his cock drags against the roof of her channel, sending bolts of desire through her.
As their pleasure builds, their coupling becomes more desperate, almost frantic. He pulls her against him, her arms wrapping around his neck to steady herself. Breaths mingle as they pant and exchange messy, open-mouthed kisses. Talaitha moans, as the new angle causes his cock to spear into that bundle of nerves, until her entire body tenses and her head falls back, exposing her pale neck to Thorin's greedy lips. She cries out, her inner walls clenching around him to bring him to his own release, which washes over him with a deep, loud moan. He pulls her down hard as his seed fills her, hips jerking erratically.
Talaitha's hands move to the back of his head, holding him to her while he descends from his high. His breath is hot on her neck, and he tightens his arms around her, inhaling her scent. He feels warm and sated and like he's finally come home. It's something he never wants to go without again.
"I did not intend for that to happen," Talaitha quips, once they regain their composure.
Thorin pulls away just enough to see her face. "The best things are those which take you by surprise." He leans up to kiss her, his lips gentle now that his lust has been slaked.
"Like us, you mean?"
"Especially us," he smiles. "When I knocked on that green door, I had no idea my One stood behind it. But when I saw you curled up in that ridiculous armchair, I knew."
Talaitha laughs, her eyes shining with affection. "And I knew when I heard you sing."
He looks at her, his gaze simultaneously intense and soft.
"I have not done this before." His voice is tinged with uncertainty, mirroring his words. "But I believe I must ask your father's permission."
"My father's permission for what?" she questions. Thorin cups the back of her neck, and suddenly, she understands. "Oh. For that."
"Is it not a szelemér custom?"
"Not a custom, no. More like a choice. Some do it, some don't."
"And I suppose you would rather I not," he says wryly.
"Well, no. I mean, if you want to..."
Thorin's smile grows. "I shall not, then."
"But if it's dwarvish custom, you should."
"It is dwarvish custom," he affirms. "But we view women differently, especially since there are so few of them. Fathers cannot afford to marry off their daughters to dwarves who would treat them ill. That is why we have such long courtships."
Talaitha arches a brow. "So you mean that because szelemér women are more plentiful, we are expendable to our fathers?"
"That is not what I mean," he says pointedly. "You are more precious to me than anything-than anyone- in the world. But you are also your own woman, and the only permission I must ask is yours."
A smile tugs at her lips. How well he knew her.
"Will you marry me, Talaitha?"
With their lower halves still joined and slick with seeping fluids, it's not the most romantic of proposals, but it's fitting and intimate. It's unceremonious, simple, and almost a second thought. It's them, Talaitha realizes.
"Of course I will." She brushes a strand of sweat-damp hair from his forehead, her fingers lingering on his ear cuff. "But I thought that was understood when I said I'd return to Erebor with you."
"Hush, woman, or I'll change my mind," he grumbles and lightly pinches her side. Thorin knows she only teases, but he can't resist reciprocating.
He is rewarded with giggles, and he kisses her, catching her teeth instead of her lips. He grins and does it again, enjoying the way it makes her laugh harder.
Eventually, they move from the chair to the bedroom, where they repeat their earlier activities, until the growling of their stomachs becomes too insistent.