A/N:Remember that this Wren and Thorin have one more story about them, Another Night, Another Path, a collection of smutty one-shots that weirdly enough still have a bit of plot in them ;) There is the wedding night, the morning after the wedding night, there is pregnancy reveal and pregnancy adventures (during which Wren builds a snowman, and Thorin worries :D), and other random details of their life, but yeah, mostly smut :)

I will continue writing those one-shots for as long as I write FF, so check them out if you feel like it :)

A/N#2: The wedding info is taken from Dwarrow Scholar website. The bloke is wicked! Check him out if you are looking for any Dwarven stuff!

"Thorin…" Wren breathed out, and he hooked one finger and pulled the collar of her undertunic. His lip found her clavicles, and the beard scraped at her sensitive skin. "Were you not intending to…?"

"Do not speak," he growled, and his teeth grazed at her skin, "Or I will remember that I am angry with you..."

She jerked, she thought he must have been. She could let him continue, and Maiar help her, she wanted him to, and he would not be angry with her, but she remembered that if they were to get through this and wed, she was to be his wife and his partner in everything. Were she to let it continue, he would regret it.

"You wanted to wait till our wedding night..." He pushed his hand in the cut of her chemise and the rough palm covered her puckered tip. Her head dropped back against her will, and she moaned.

"I will," he was snarling, pressing into her more and more, "I will stop soon..." Suddenly she felt strangely merry.

"No, you will not. Your other hand is between my legs already." The aforementioned hand stilled. She was equally lamenting the movements that he ceased, he was unconsciously stroking her clit with his thumb over the thin fabric of her bloomers, no one had ever touched her so unrestrainedly, almost possessively, and at the same time she was becoming overwhelmed by his uninhibited assault. Her head was spinning. "Do not misunderstand me, my lord, I am enjoying it immensely..." She felt there was something hysterical in her frolics, but she was still unsure where they stood.

He lifted his face and looked in her eyes. His stare was grave and burning, anger and lust mixed in it, and she felt like wincing away.

"You humiliated me in front of Elves and Men, Wren..." His voice was even and low, and she shrank. And then he stroked her center again. She jolted, and he moved closer to her. She was breathing in shallow short breaths, her throat choked. His face was very close, and he was suddenly terrifying. He drew a tight pointed circle with his thumb on her clit, their eyes locked, and her body readily reacted to it. She felt her bloomers growing moist and heady blush spill on her face and neck.

"I did," she confirmed and that gained her another circular caress. There was something punishing about it too, and they both knew it.

"Am I to hear you ask for forgiveness, my lady?" He was growling, and she opened her mouth to admit her guilt, and then she saw the furious feral smirk twisting his lips, and felt the pulp of his thumb press into her clit far from gently. She suddenly felt that was the moment of test for her, and she pressed her lips and gave him a defiant stare. He cocked a brow in surprise. The thumb moved again, and she suppressed a moan.

"I am not just your future husband, Wren, I am your King. You defied me," he lowered his face to her neck, and the kiss on the side of her throat was sharp and almost painful.

"I did what had to be done." Her voice was shaking, but she was still fighting. His fingers between her legs sped up, and she mewled. He had brought her to climax twice already, the evening and the morning of their first night in Rivendell, and being the experienced lover he was, he had learnt all the tells and all the spots. The hand suddenly left her center, and she exhaled sharply, only to whimper again, when he jerked her skirt up and pushed the hand down her bloomers.

The thick middle finger dipped into her, the heel of his palm cover the clit, and he made a slight twisting movement, caressing seemingly in several spots at the same time. She realised she was pushing her hips into his hand, moaning loudly.

"Admit it, Wren, you regret your insolence." Her back was arching on the cursed Elven bed, she was losing her mind, and then something of what he had said scraped at her mind.

"You are my King..." She breathed out, her hands clawing at the covers. He gave her a smug smirk, lowering his lips on her now exposed breasts, but she pressed her hand in his shoulder. "But I am your Queen." Her voice lacked firmness, but the words she pronounced gave her strength. She pushed him away more decisively. "I am the Queen of Erebor, and I made the decision that I thought was right." All his movements halted, and she gathered her will and rolled away from him. He did not try stopping her.

She rose on all four, her arms and legs shaking, and she threw a look at him askew. He was still half lying on the bed, his hand on the covers where she was an instant ago. He looked livid, knots of muscles rolling on his jaw, but he was listening.

"I am the Queen, and I could not let you manhandle the pregnant beloved of your nephew in front of people of the Last Homely House." She purposefully alluded to the words of one of the Men, since Thorin had reacted with so much shame to them. "I chose the least of evils." She heavily rolled and sat on her knees. It felt like she had just went through a fight. Her muscles ached, there was ringing in her ears, she felt exhausted. And then she remembered she was marrying a Dwarf. At least she hoped she still was. "I did what was best for my kin."

She took three deep breaths and finally lifted her eyes to meet his. He was studying her carefully, and she squared her shoulders. He was overwhelming, intimidating, a true King, and she needed to be the queen worthy of him. A part of her was panicking, but she reminded herself, he didn't need a servant, he needed a wife. She tried to recall all his transgressions against her, to rise her temper, to find her will to confront him. He had appeared in her infirmary after seven years, he had assumed she would just pick up her life and go after him. Seven years before he had left her, and Maiar knew what he had been doing since that. The last argument worked, jealousy flooded her. It was a new feeling, she had not even been aware she could feel possessive of another person, but at the moment she clenched her teeth. He had bedded hundreds of other women, she told herself. She was probably exaggerating but she needed to feel angry, she needed to defy him again. That was the only way to establish her position for future if they ever were to have any together. She imagined a long line of women, standing in a queue expecting his favours, all of them tall and alluring, with opulent bosoms and enticing curves. She realised she had succeeded when suddenly she felt like giving him a nice whole-hearted slap.

And then she remembered he had just tried to use carnal pleasure to punish her. That was cruel and unfair, and she hissed through her teeth, "And I have to tell you, my lord, I feel offended and humiliated at the moment. I do not ever wish to interweave our intimacy with our discord. It is too… cherished and meaningful for me to ever being used as a tool of punishment."

His face wavered, and she congratulated herself internally. She let him know that unlike him for her it was sacred, not just a lewd physical pleasure, a union of two hearts, and not just… organs. Even in her mind she could not use other words, but then she once again reminded herself of how many other women saw, touched and dallied with the aforementioned organ. He was seemingly thinking of the same. It had to be different, it was to be part of their marriage. She could not let him mistreat her in such way.

On the other hand, her body was craving renewing the contact. He had scared her a few moments ago, the cold eyes, the cruel touch, but she loved him. Maiar help her, she loved him so much! She just wanted to embrace him and press into him, but she did not know whether she could trust him. Their association was so fresh, so raw, and he had just frightened her. He was staring at her, and she wondered whether he had ever in his life doubted his judgement. Perhaps he was incapable of it, he was after all a Dwarf.

"Forgive me, Wren, I was unfair," his voice was quiet and hollow, and her eyes flew up to his face in shock. She had been completely certain he did not know what an apology was. He sat up and opened his arms. "Let us not argue, I am begging you." His voice was pleading, and after a moment of hesitation she moved to him. He pulled her in, crushing her, and she pressed her lips to his. The kiss was chaste and emotional, and she placed several more on his cheeks. He chuckled and cupped her face, making her look at him. "I was unfair, and I especially apologise for being… rough. I was angry, but you are right. We should never take our grievances into our marital bed." She felt exuberant. He was still intending to marry her! On the other hand, there were still a few things to clarify.

"You were not rough, but I have to say I did not give full consent to your actions, Thorin," she kept her tone soft but the meaning of it was clear. She paused, and he frowned giving it a thought. A small but decisive nod from him was all she needed, she was certain she had gotten her thought through, and she exhaled in relief and wrapped her arms around his neck. She felt his body was tense under her, and she stroked the back of his head. Tension was leaving her body meanwhile, and she almost could not believe it, but it seemed they had gotten through this turbulence, and all was well.

"Is all well now?" She asked in a small voice, and he chuckled and cupped the back of her head. He buried his nose in her hair, and its tip brushed at her neck. Goosebumps ran down her back. Her body reacted to him whether she wanted it or not.

"All is well, Wren," the lips followed where the nose was before, but there was no hunger and lust in the caress, and she sighed happily. There was one more thing to mention.

"My lord," she softly spoke and moved away from him, stroking the sides of his face, "You said you wanted to wait till our wedding night with…" She stumbled over her words, but made herself continue, "If you do, you have to stop tempting me. You know how how willing I am," she blushed furiously, and he smiled to her warmly, "You will not see any objections from me if you ask nicely." That gained her a guffaw, and she nuzzled his ear. Her lips brushed his helix, and she whispered, "If you want to keep me untouched, I suggest you keep your distance, my lord." One of his large palms lay on her back between her shoulder blades, he pushed her backwards with the other one, the palm on her back supporting her so that the fall was safe, but still the room swam in front of her eyes. He was pressing her body into the sheets again, but this time there was no anger, no darkness in his lust, just some sort of merry amused desire.

His mouth devoured hers, his hands quickly started wandering, she was breathing more and more heavily, he was heating up, her legs went around his waist, and he ground his hips into her. She answered with a moan, and her heels dug into his buttocks.

"Tell me to stop, Wren," he suddenly whispered raspily, kissing her strangely enough at the inner side of her elbow. She did not expect it to affect her much, but when his tongue swirled on her skin there, she cried out from the fire that licked between her thighs, "Tell me to stop..."

In her fogged mind she suddenly clearly understood he was asking for her help. He could not stop himself, he desired her, and the thought was an astonishing revelation to her. He desired her! Her, Wren of Enedwaith, the sickly, ugly Wren, and he was asking her to help him to stop. The sensation of power surged through her, he was telling her she was to decide and to choose what was to transpire between them, and as much as she wanted to throw all caution aside and enjoy his body, she squeezed her eyes and breathed out.

"Stop, Thorin," her soft command was hardly audible, but he halted and his body jolted. He made a choked pained sound and pushed himself of her, his massive wide body shaking, teeth bared. This time it was him who was on all four, breathing heavily, and she gave him time, not touching, not speaking to him. Several moments passed, and he sat down, awkwardly stretching the leg in front of him, and rubbed his face with large hands.

"I think we should haste with the wedding. I might not survive any more of time with you this way. This betrothal is going too well..."

"We have just had a row, my lord," she tried to diffuse the tension with a joke, and he threw an askew look at her.

"It is not the rows that worry me, it is making peace after them." Her cheeks started burning again, she had heard of the pleasure of ending a quarrel between lovers, and then he cocked a brow at her. She giggled, and he joined her with a low raspy laughter.

"Mahal, help me, this marriage will be the death of me." She bit into her bottom lip with tentative flirtiness.

"Does Dwarven wedding ceremony include mentioning of staying together till death?" He settled on the bed more comfortably, leaning against the headboard, and patted the spot near him. She crawled up to him, and he pulled her closer. Her head lay on his shoulder, and he intertwined their fingers.

"Have you not found it out in your thorough research, my lady?" He was teasing her, and she snorted.

"You are well aware how secretive your people are regarding such things."

"Aye, we are. And no, there is no mentioning of death, that would be too grave." Wren snorted again.

"Oh, of course we would not want that. Clearly, it is all happy singing, and braiding flowers into each other's hair, and dancing with ribbons," she sing-songed, and he quickly turned and placed a loud ridiculous kiss onto her ear. She squeaked and pushed him away. Since she was not genuinely trying to put any distance between them, her feigned attempts only ended in him placing similar kisses on the palms of her hands she was pressing into his face. She was snorting, he was catching her fingers in his mouth.

After a few minutes of foolish dalliances, they settled back on the bed. She tucked herself into his side, and he was running his fingers through her hair.

"In my Halls you will find a house, in your heart I will find a home." He suddenly spoke in a quiet voice, and she moved away to look in his eyes. "That is what the groom says." She was staring in his bright eyes, and he softly smiled to her.

"And what does the bride say?" Wren whispered back, and he cupped her jaw and tenderly brushed his lips to hers.

"And then you will say, "In your Halls I will find a house, in my heart you will find a home." She was looking in his eyes, loving, sincere, they smiled to each other, seeing and understanding so much in each other's eyes and hearts, and she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her temple to his.

"Yes, Thorin, yes, you are my home now," her voice was trembling, but instead of tears, even happy ones, an elated laughter burst out of her.

"And you are mine," he rubbed the side of his face to hers, and then their lips met in a tender kiss, and it went on and on, and just would not want to end.

The next day she knocked at the door of his room, and he invited her in. He had maps spread on his table, and she came up to him. He quickly leaned in and pecked her lips, firmly having decided from now on to refrain from anything more than this until the day of their wedding, and immediately forgetting his own decision he wrapped his arms around her and caught her mouth.

Half an hour later, after one 'Thorin, stop' and his 'Why?' and her 'Because you asked me to' he sat on a chair, placing her on his lap. She gave him a sceptical look from the corner of her eye, and he chuckled.

"So, what did my Queen find out in her scouting?" He asked cheekily, stroking her thigh under layers of heavy velvet and silk petticoats, and her brows jumped up and her eyes lost the dazed expression.

"How did you know?" He laughed and quickly kissed her neck. She made a funny croak like noise. With all frustration aside, he genuinely enjoyed how responsive she was to his attentions.

"I think I understand my little Queen rather well. I doubt she would manage to stay away and refrain from at least being a bit nosy." He kissed the tip of her nose, and she wrinkled it in pretense of indignation. She was not deceiving anyone. "So what did you find out in the rooms of my sister-son?"

"He was asleep, and I only went there to bring her food. She must be starving at all times, growing this giant babe inside her. She is in her second trimester, and the child is healthy, just as she is. And she has not told Kili yet, but they are at peace." Thorin nodded, pondering her words, and Wren felt proud and flattered, he asked for her opinion and seemed to trust her evaluation.

"So you think she will travel back with us?" He asked, absentmindedly stroking the back of her palm with his thumb, already planning ahead, and she jumped at him pressing her lips to his greedily. He was relying on her in this, not rushing to interfere himself, and she kissed him again and again, grabbing his wonderful Dwarven ears, and somehow they were on the floor, and the skirts were bunched up, and she was not at all certain she could manage another 'Thorin, stop,' when he rolled off her and loudly thumped his forehead into the floor.

"We are to be wed as soon as we step into Erebor," he proclaimed, and she emitted a hysterical laugh.

"I accept your proposal, my lord." He lifted his head and gave her a look. It was a mixture of amusement, reflection of his half suppressed painful erection and a sardonical glare, and she got up and walked to his table. He remained on the floor, mostly probably for the view of her ankles. She clasped her hands behind her back, and rocking on her heels she pondered the map. "Are we leaving tomorrow morning?"

"We are," he sat up and smiled to her. "And sooner than you expect you will be in the Lonely Mountain."

She searched her mind, but found no trepidation. She was going home.