Following Chapter 34 of Me Without You...

The bedchamber was a large room, dimly lit by torches on the stone walls, with a fireplace cozily humming and crackling in the furthest wall. The furnishing was similar to what Wren had seen in the Erebor Halls, a thick carpet on the floor, a small table by the wall, two chairs, and rugs and furs on the floor in front of the fireplace. There was a wide, simple bed, a sturdy frame of dark wood, thick posts carved reminiscent of tree trunks, and something stirred in Wren's memory, some half forgotten dream, but she quickly threw the thought aside. The King, having entered the chamber, stood still now, and she turned around and closed the door behind her, without letting go of his hand.

She faced him again and met his eyes. There was passion in them, but also melancholy and uncertainty, and she inhaled deeply and it was her turn to lead him by the hand. They approached the bed, she sat on it and he took a place near her. The fingers of his second hand wrapped around her digits.

"Wren, let us speak first..." Her brows jumped up, from his purposeful, serious tone, and she gave him a small encouraging smile. He stroked her knuckles with his thumbs, her hands were warm and secure in his, and she basked even in this smallest of caresses. "Were I alive, zunshel, we never would have found ourselves in such circumstances..." His voice was somber, he was frowning, and she pressed her lips. Perhaps, she thought, he did not wish to say hurtful things, but the words stung. She was no Khuzd, and no match for a King, and yet she doubted such were the words one was to say to a woman who had just as much as agreed to bed one. She could have lied to herself that perhaps they were not understanding each other and that was not what he thought was transpiring in this room, but of course he did. "It is different for Dwarves, we do not..." He stumbled over his words, his eyes on her hands, and then he took a sharp breath in and gave her a direct look. "Had I any choice, I would not have lain with you before the wedding."

Wren gasped and looked at him in astonishment. Her mind worked fast, and the conclusions she could not help but draw out of his statement left her dumbfounded.

"Have you not ever..?" Her voice broke, and he met her squeak like question with a frown and, and she could not have found a better word for his expression, a pout.

"I have just as much as proposed to you, and you are concerned with my chastity, Wren," he sounded grumpy, and a hysterical giggle escaped her lips.

"I am equally astounded by both ideas, my lord," out of her bewilderment she slipped into her previous decorous tone, and he gave her a reproachful glare. It perhaps sounded to him as if she was mocking him, and to erase this expression from his face she rushed to him, pulling her hands out of his, and she threw her arms around his neck. She was pressing into him, not finding words to express her feelings. She could not dare to profess her love to him, but it was overflowing her heart, and she whispered, "I would have accepted both with all my heart..." He exhaled, his chest rose, and his arms went around her as well.

She prohibited herself to think of what would have been.

She chased away the thoughts that were he alive, he would not have spared her a glance, how splendid his life would have been, and how plain and unassuming she would have seemed to him, of how little the Khazad cared for the likes of her, a woman of Men, weak and pale and so loudly unattractive.

She expelled all her doubts out of her mind, the stubborn misgivings that kept on whispering in her mind of how she was the only person he now could talk to, and the only woman he could touch, and whatever he had just said, she was nothing but his first, last and only chance for carnal pleasures.

Suddenly he chuckled and stroked her hair at the back of the head.

"Zunshel, I can almost hear your frantic thoughts. Would you care to share them with me?" She moved away, dropped her eyes and shook her head. "Do you doubt my devotion to you?"

"No!" She cried out, jerking her face up. "No..." She fumbled, under the astute look of his blue eyes, and felt blush spill on her cheeks. "I do not… No?" He smirked, joylessly, and then cupped her face.

"Wren, I might be dead, but I am not dim." His eyes were tender, and she sighed softly, trying to look elsewhere, he was reading her too easily. "I do remember the circumstances we are in, and I do not deceive myself, it would have been different were I alive. But right now, right here, I am begging you to believe me. You are in my heart, and it is yours now." His voice was low and velvet, earnesty laced into his tone, and she forgot all her qualms.

"And my heart is yours," she said firmly, and he smiled to her tenderly. She returned the expression, her hands flew up and lay on his chest. She felt his heart beating forcefully, and she splayed her fingers on the solid muscles under the thin layer of his tunic.

"You will have to lead me here, Wren," there was some impish light in his eyes, he was obviously hiding his insecurity under the jesting, and she did not miss the question lying behind his words.

"I know very little of it, I have had one… association, and it was… insignificant," Wren stuttered through her careful phrasing, and one of King's thick brows cocked up. She sighed, she did not want to discuss her past, but he was giving her an inquisitive look, and she conceded, "I have had one lover. He was the Chief Healer in an infirmary I served in. We entered physical relations, but they were unsatisfying. I am afraid, I am just not alluring enough to entice a man… And cold… I have always thought I was cold… But then with you… It is so different..." She realised how bumbling and embarrassing her words had been when it was already too late to take them back, and now both black brows of King Thorin were hiked up almost to his hairline, and she blushed and started mumbling something inarticulate.

He slightly tilted his head studying her, and she finally grew silent. She had had half a thought of fleeing, when he picked up her hands again.

"I find you very enticing, I have from the start," he said simply, and her eyes flew to his. Her mouth fell half open inelegantly, and she was staring at him. He suddenly guffawed and then leaned in pressing his lips to hers. And instant later, her body already on fire, her thoughts muddled and her skin tingly, she decided that questioning his words would be foolish, and she just melted into the pleasure of his lips on hers, of his hands wandering her body, of his silky hair brushing at her cheek from time to time.

Their passion flared up, their fervour was mutually feeding the ardour in another, and soon it became clear to Wren that as unbelievable as it seemed he indeed desired her.

She hardly remembered anything from her association with Aldacar, her mentor, it had been years, and she did not lie, their coupling had been… put simply, dull and uninventive. She had been infatuated with him, but her passion passed quickly, once she realised her body did not reflect her intellectual admiration for his talent and his devotion to their craft. Quite soon into their relationships she stopped offering and initiating the carnal endeavours between them, and he seemed rather content with such arrangement. She had just decided she was not a sensual woman.

At the moment she was inclined to reevaluate her judgement. The King suddenly gasped, and to her own astonishment she realised that both her hands had somehow found their way under his tunic and were now clawing at his chest, his shirt bunched up, and before she could stop herself she tilted her head and bit gently into his beard covered jaw. More so, to her own mortification, she then emitted a lustful and very much pleased moan and placed several more little bites along his jawline until her lips did not reach his ear. The ear had flamed up, and she apparently had lost any shame by then because she caught the heated lobe between her lips.

"Mahal help me..." The King rasped out, and Wren released his ear. She shifted, she needed to see his face, in her own suffocating lecherous muddlement she seemed to have forgotten that it was his first encounter of such nature, and then she saw a rather whimsical expression splashing in his blue irises. He looked equally aroused and terrified, and she felt excruciatingly bashful, for her unrestricted caresses, and for her enthusiasm, and she would have moved away from him, when he grabbed her upper arms and pulled her to his mouth.

The kiss was short, he moved lower, his hot greedy mouth was suddenly on her throat, her head dropped back, and she whimpered when his teeth grazed the sensitive skin on the side of her neck. A comparison with greedy devouring of a fruit popped up in her head, he was sampling, but he was impatient, and then his lips were on her collarbone, and she could hardly understand anything anymore, and the world tilted, she drew breath sharply, as her back hit the bed behind her, and before she could even conceive their new position, he pulled the string on her collar and stuck his nose down the unlaced opening of the healer's robe. She made a strangled noise, but he gave her no time to gather her wits, and his scorching heavy hand lay on her breast.

She was not aware she was capable of a low raspy moan, obviously demanding and lecherous, and yet it fell off her lips, and she arched pushing her body into his hand, showing her pleasure and ordering more, and he was weighing on her, his hands roaming her torso, and she grabbed the hem of his tunic and jerked.

A/N: Did I mention it will be a multi-chapter? ;) Knowing our lovebirds they will need several rounds to have their fill :)