Disclaimer: I don't own anything even remotely recognizable in this story. JRR Tolkien, New Line Cinema, and a LOT of other interests with a LOT more money than I have do and I'm just borrowing to have a little fun. Everyone will be put back when I'm finished (maybe a little the worse for wear) and I'm not making any money off this so please don't sue me.
THIS STORY CONTAINS SOME PRETTY SERIOUS SEX OF THE SLASH PERSUASION. If same sex couples bother you or you object to homosexuality, give it a pass. You've been warned. Flames will be saved for this winter to heat the house with.
Author's note: This story is NOT beta'd. I accept responsibility for any and all mistakes contained herein. If you'd like to point one out, and will do it nicely, you're more than welcome to do so via PM. If you just want to bitch, take it out the door please.
Author's note the second: This is a big departure from my comfort zone. PirateColey asked me for some serious Dwori smut and this is the result.
Dedicated to: My darling AJ, whom I still miss terribly and always will. A piece of my soul is with her where she waits for me. She would have loved this story. And to PirateColey, for pushing me outside my comfort zone and making me deliver what I think is some of my very best writing.
NOTE: In this chapter, italicized words are Khuzdul.
Dinner was simply torture.
Dwalin kept trying not to look at Ori, who was pointedly not looking at him. Dori was fussing over his youngest brother, trying to be certain Ori wasn't ill because he was only picking at his food and looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.
Thorin caught Dwalin's eye with a smirk, much like the one he wore when dealing with his nephews' pranks. He was well aware that something was bothering his friend, and he had a very clear idea now exactly what the bother was. He wasn't sure who, yet, but someone had caught Dwalin's attention. He'd rarely seen the warrior as distracted as he was this night.
He gave a half nod toward the stairs to their sleeping quarters. It was a spacious house that they had been allowed to use, with enough rooms available for all of them to sleep alone if they chose. And he had every intention of furthering his friend's aims for the evening.
Dwalin gave him a small bow of his head and rose, headed up the stairs to his room, wondering in the deepest corner of his mind if Ori would come. The scribe had promised to come, had kissed him, had responded to his advances with a fire that had shaken him to his very center. Would he come?
He was sitting on the side of the bed contemplating cleaning his axes again when the door opened slightly and Ori slipped through, closing it firmly behind him and leaning up against it for a moment. "Dori is going to be the death of me," he said simply.
"I'm sure he'll be kept busy for the time being," Dwalin rumbled comfortingly. Thorin wasn't blind. He'd keep the others occupied for the evening, those that remained. Nori and Bofur had already made an exit, separately but then everyone understood what was going on anyway. Well, except Dori. He didn't want to see.
No, Thorin had sent him up here, and had known what he was about. He'd keep the others at bay.
Dwalin rose and held out a hand, hoping his scribe would take it. He had plans for the boy, now that he knew Ori wanted him as well. He was going to make the lad squirm and love every minute of it.
Ori took his hand and stepped closer, blushing. His free hand rose and landed on Dwalin's chest, absently plucking at the ring of his bandolier. Now that he had what he wanted – which was Dwalin of course – he had no inkling of what to do next.
A few of his previous brief encounters came to mind and he blushed again, then stepped back for just a moment, releasing Dwalin's hand only to bring both of his own to his clothing. He stripped then, slowly, teasingly removing one single item at a time until he was totally nude and then he moved to stand close again.
Dwalin had to remind himself to keep breathing.
Ori was beautiful. Those ridiculous knit garments had been hiding a lot. They made him look slight, and he really wasn't. He was still slender, but that was where the deception had come in. His shoulders were muscled, his stomach flat and taut, and Mahal, there was strength hidden under all those clothes.
Ori moved close then and kissed him, letting all the desire he'd been holding in check for so long come to the fore. He gently placed both hands on Dwalin's chest, working his hands slowly under Dwalin's clothing to skate lightly along the skin. "You're wearing too many clothes," he said softly before kissing Dwalin again, running his tongue along the warrior's and drawing another rumbling noise from the bigger Dwarf.
Dwalin stepped back and removed his own clothing, his sense of discipline forcing him to fold them neatly and place them on the chair before turning back to his Ori. HIS Ori. He could say that now, with certainty – the lad had come to him full willing and MAHAL what was he doing with those strong fingers?
Ori had wrapped his hand around Dwalin and was stroking, light, teasing touches that only managed to make him even harder. He was listening closely to the sounds his warrior was making, adjusting his touch and pull to the ones that brought the most needy sounds from him. "On the bed," he said softly, pushing gently back against Dwalin's chest with his free hand.
Dwalin tumbled backward onto the bed, dragging Ori with him, kissing him wildly. This was a side of the scribe he had never seen, a confident, strong lad who knew what he wanted and was going to get it. And it excited him even more than before. His own hands were busy, mapping every inch of his Ori, touching each and every bit of skin he could reach, skimming lightly over his body, barely making contact, and he felt Ori shiver.
Ori was on fire. Each touch of Dwalin's strong hands on him burned, leaving trails of heat behind them as they moved over him. He felt that heat pooling into his belly and pulled back slightly, his breathing ragged, to watch his warrior wonderingly. "What do you want," he asked softly as he let his hands still for a moment.
Dwalin pulled him in close, nuzzling into his hair and then nipping at the skin of his throat, his shoulders. "You," he said simply as he rained teasing little bites all along Ori's body, working downward. His hands were steady now, holding the boy's hips close to his, feeling them fit together and it was the most delicious torture he'd ever felt.
Ori was beyond trembling now, he was literally shaking with need. The teeth pulling at his skin, Dwalin's hands on his hips, and the obvious need in both of them was conspiring to drive him insane. He wanted more. His hands had shifted to trace Dwalin's scars and tattoos and Dwalin growled, the sound making Ori, if possible, more determined to have what he wanted. He lowered his lips to Dwalin's, kissing him with mounting urgency, nibbling along his lower lip as he brought them into even closer contact, pushing Dwalin back to lie on the bed and straddling his hips. And again his fingers found that hardness and stroked it teasingly.
Dwalin tightened his grasp on the lad's hips, gentling his touch only enough that it wouldn't leave bruises. He wasn't letting his scribe go any time soon and a groan of pure lust forced its way from him as Ori suddenly dropped forward and nipped at his neck, then laved the stinging spot with his tongue. Slowly, maddeningly, he moved lower, nipping, licking, and teasing until he reached the prize and Dwalin dropped his head back with a wordless growl as Ori took him in his mouth. It took all his will not to finish right then.
Ori heard that growl and smiled, letting a low chuckle travel through his lips and around Dwalin's hardness as he slowly, teasingly, swallowed that length down inch by torturous inch, running his tongue along the underside as he rose back up, only to repeat the process a tiny bit more quickly.
Dwalin's hands gripped Ori more tightly and he had to remind himself to loosen it some; he didn't want to leave bruises. But what that boy was doing to him, Mahal, where had he learned all this? Dwalin certainly hadn't expected it. It was an unexpected bounty and his eyes were crossing and if he didn't want this over before it really started -
One hand went to Ori's ginger hair and threaded through, drawing him upward and away from that maddening friction, back to where Dwalin could look him in the eye. He was gratified to see the need still pulsing there, need he knew he was the only one to quench. The lad burned hotter than a forge and Dwalin wanted to lose himself in that heat. He drew his Ori in and ravaged his mouth, letting their skins melt together as he wrapped his hands around the boy and held him tightly, rolling them over so Ori was underneath and then grasping his hands down and away from his sides. The lad wanted to tease, did he? Then Dwalin would show him how it was done.
He kept a firm grip on Ori's hands, refusing to allow him to move at all as he slowly nibbled his way downward. Where Ori had been gentle, Dwalin's teeth weren't so much and little red marks began to show on the scribe's pale skin where Dwalin was obviously marking his claim. And he wasn't quiet, either. Each mark was punctuated by a sigh, or a gasp, or an outright moan when Dwalin lingered a bit longer than before. He squirmed wildly, trying to get his hands free, desperate to touch, and arched upward with a cry when Dwalin nuzzled around him but didn't TOUCH. Kisses, nips, little bite marks aside, he didn't touch the one part of Ori that was BEGGING for attention and the boy lost what little control he still had, trying to get his hands free, broken Khuzdul coming from him as he pleaded for something he couldn't identify. Or just to be allowed to touch Dwalin again, he wasn't certain.
"What d'ye want, Ori?" Dwalin demanded softly as he moved back upward, keeping himself in contact with the boy's body, still holding him immobile and just holding himself still against his scribe. "D'ye want me t'let you go?" He wasn't about to, no matter what Ori said. The scribe belonged to him, and he was only waiting to have him mindless before he claimed that right.
"No!" Ori arched upward under him, trying to keep their skins touching. His cries were soft, yet piercing. He needed, he wanted, and he wasn't sure Dwalin was going to deliver. Teasing was far too weak a word for what Dwalin was doing to him. "Need you – Dwalin – yours, always yours, Mahal, want to feel you inside me, make me whole, make us one!"
Dwalin didn't hesitate. The simple NEED screaming at him from the scribe's body and voice was more than enough to fan the flames that had already settled into his flesh. He released Ori's hands and drew him in close, holding him tightly with one hand while the other scrabbled in his pack at the edge of the bed and found a small vial of oil. He was nearly as desperate as Ori, but he wasn't going to savage his love.
Ori was pressing little kisses and nips along Dwalin's throat, his hands desperately skimming across the warrior's body, trying to keep in contact and sobbing wildly when Dwalin pulled back slightly to show Ori what he held.
"We'll be one, Ori, I promise," he soothed as he drew his scribe near enough to spread his thighs a bit wider and run one thick finger down the cleft of his ass. He was shaking himself, needing to claim the lad as his own. Oil dribbled between them and Ori's hands were suddenly there, slicking up Dwalin's fingers and then his own, then drawing his own fingers down to touch his entrance while Dwalin nearly stopped breathing from the sight.
Ori had done this before, allowing his lovers to watch, but this brought the act to a new level. He was already panting, sighing, moaning and wanting more, wanting Dwalin inside him with an intensity he'd never expected to feel. One finger slid easily inside, and then another, and then he saw the expression on Dwalin's face.
To call it hunger would be akin to calling a diamond a piece of pretty glass.
Dwalin had his hands fisted at his sides, trying to calm himself enough to give them what they both wanted. He had to regain some sort of control or this wasn't going to last, and he wanted his first joining with his Ori to be something long remembered. That it would be wild and full of heat went without saying; Ori had surprised him in so many ways already, and the passion the boy had shown him simply awed him.
He reached forward slightly, wanting to touch, NEEDING to touch his scribe. Ori simply scissored a third finger in, allowing his head to fall back with a groan that Dwalin echoed and suddenly it was just too much. Dwalin's big hands moved Ori's smaller one aside and he slid his fingers inside the opening, gasping slightly at the heat, the tightness he found there. Ori fell back with a keening cry, wanting more. "Dwalin, love, please, I can't wait, PLEASE!" The Khuzdul flowed from his lips even as his hands plucked at Dwalin's skin, his arms, any portion of the warrior he could reach, trying to bring him closer and make them one.
Dwalin took a deep breath as he moved upward again. "Ori. Ori, atamanel, look at me." He grasped the boy's face in his hands, breathing raggedly. "Ori. If I claim you – I will never let you go." He had to make his scribe understand. He'd never been this intense, this hungry. He'd never felt such a need to be one with a lover and it rocked him to his very foundations. "Ori."
Ori held his gaze for only a moment before nodding and Dwalin waited no longer. He surged forward, claiming Ori's lips with his own as he thrust into that heat, taking the lad's cries into his mouth to mingle with his own. One hand held Ori's hip with bruising force, the other stroked him in time with Dwalin's thrusts, bringing him so close to the edge and then slowing, teasing the scribe, wanting him to be completely mindless when it took him.
Neither of them could last long. There was too much passion, too much heat, too much need for them to feel for long without release. Ori threw back his head and howled, his hands clinging to Dwalin like a lifeline, shuddering and his release sparked Dwalin's. The warrior thrust sharply once more, then stiffened and gave a roar as he felt it take him.
He collapsed next to his Ori and brought the shaking scribe close in to hold him, tracing soothing circles on his back and rumbling soft Khuzdul to try and calm him. He knew how the lad felt; he'd NEVER experienced such a joining. He certainly hadn't known it was only going to sharpen what he felt. He had meant what he told Ori. He was never going to let him go. He only wanted one Dwarf in his bed for the rest of his life, and it was the scribe.
That was when he knew.
The urge to protect the lad, even from the start. The urge that had quickly become a need. The need to see him safe, to be near him, to need HIM. It had all been part and parcel of something he had never expected to find; many Dwarves didn't.
Ori was his One.
But when he would have shared the revelation with his Ori, he discovered that the lad had drifted to sleep in his arms. Sighing softly, content to simply hold the ginger haired Dwarf, he covered them both and let himself relax finally into slumber as well. Tomorrow would be soon enough to talk of their future.