Thief of the Heart

Please understand me.

I never meant to hurt you, but this was the only way we could prevent a war.

I needed to hide the Arkenstone for all our sakes!

Bilbo Baggins wished he could've said those words in a way that would help his dear friend listen to him, and not glare in his direction like their ties were severed. His friend gave off a sullen look to everybody, but this was different. It was one thing for the King of the Mountain to be distrustful, but it was another to have his heart shatter in front of thousands by the one whom he valued most.

Bilbo could only imagine what that must've felt like, but he had run out of options. Truly, he tried to pull the King out of his madness sooner. The hobbit saw it himself; he had escaped the possession before. Talking with him at great length seemed to do the trick, unfortunately, he was not as fond of the others in their group to fully resist the temptation of power. It had to be this way, or he'd submit himself and his friends to bloodshed. If there was anything the hobbit was not, it was a coward who'd give up when there was still time. But now, there was not a crumb of time left to dawdle on, and he could only plead silently, hoping his companion would forgive his actions.

The Mountain King was beside himself. He digested Bilbo's words but was unable to filter them like he wanted to. He tried separating the disturbing confession from the charming individual that had delivered them. What Bilbo told him had to be a lie; the hobbit who had trusted to follow him through treacherous crusades surely wouldn't turn his back on him now and steal the Arkenstone. What's more, he wouldn't dare hand off that stone to his enemies, one of which refused to take part in supporting the dwarves in their time of need.

If this was real, then the King feared it would mean everything they shared was under a façade. The dwarf had to remain an impenetrable warrior in front of his foes, so they do not make him out to be a fool struck by emotion. Yet he recalled the memories of the friendship he had built with the hobbit anyway; how he first encountered him and his bumbling words. Nobody evoked such a feeling in the dwarf like frustration and infatuation all at once.

He remembered growing warm at the sight of Bilbo chasing their group to tag along on their adventure. That sensation was too foreign to understand for himself, so he pushed them aside. He did a good job at it too, until that damn thief had the nerve to steal his heart during their fight with the Pale Orc. The new ruler had seen many battles, yet not one had a hobbit with no combat experience run headfirst into defending him- not for glory or acknowledgment, but simply because it was in his nature. That couldn't be someone who'd commit all that just to cheat him in the end.

There were a lot of things the long-haired dwarf refused to say, including how dashing his short companion was even amid chaos. Bilbo looked at him with those soft green eyes, and tousled brown hair. His mouth opened just slightly so oxygen could enter down his throat. It felt like instinct for the King to want to grab ahold of the thief and pry his lips further apart so his tongue could enter. They could wrap themselves in each other and shoo off the world as they did. But duty lies above silly affections. There would be more like Bilbo soon when he solidified his reign. Better than Bilbo even; they would come running down the hills begging for his hand and presenting their bellies where his children can form. Dwarves would be more than happy to please their King. The ruler held that future in his head and narrowed his glare at the one who stole his Arkenstone.

The hobbit was an enemy. He lied to him and twisted his purpose for living. He was meant to reawaken the dwarf kingdom and repopulate so another desecration would never occur again. He had to be strong, like his grandfather, and end those who posed a threat to their community.

The King ordered to have the hobbit sent over the edge of the wall, and the scene that played after was viewed like a hawk from above. Bilbo and the others had horror stricken over their faces, stupefied by this vicious decree. Nobody wanted to go through with it, so he needed to enact his mission alone. He grabbed Bilbo, and dragged him to the edge, pressuring him to go over. But their eyes made contact again, and a cold shrill raked the King's body. Like snakes had slithered underneath his clothing and hissed in his ear, flicking their devious forked tongues along the outer layer.

"...What have you done to me?" the King growled at Bilbo, yanking him away from the edge, which brought equal shock to witnesses. He analyzed the hobbit's features, trying to see what it was about him that was so special. He was only a small, insignificant being who'd prefer to be cozying up with a book by the fire than deal with all of this. He'd be a weak, fearful hobbit hiding in a hole from all the fighting if he hadn't met him. It was because of his need to gain back his homeland that was the reason for this pathetic fool risking his life for a goal that served no interest to him at all.

The King released Bilbo with a loud grunt and stepped back, looking around at his legacy. His teammates, family, the armies up ahead, all their eyes were weary of him. His vision was slurring to a limit he could not withstand. So, with a hand on his head, the King retreated into the darkness of his home.

Soon, he found himself alone in a grand hall, with memories growing more foe than friend in this state. The words of all he encountered tormented him endlessly, overlapping one another to drill their thoughts into him. He tried to walk, to maintain his composure, but they wouldn't allow it. All their insults on his character were overwhelming. His head weaved back and forth like a boulder balancing over a stick. His hand went from his head to his chest, laying over it in desperation to be broken free of this torture.

"Thorin!" Bilbo came to his aid, rushing to lay a hand on his back. The King hadn't realized he was kneeling on the ground, huffing with sweat perspiring on his forehead. "Breathe slowly. That's it..." This couldn't be real. The hobbit was merely a voice that had morphed into a physical presence to trick him.

"Quiet!" he ordered, "I'm tired of hearing it."

Bilbo tightened his lips in compliance but brooded with impatience. The armies could only be held off for so long. "How dare you come here, after all you've done," Thorin descended deeper into the ground. Bilbo could not see the dwarf's face but could picture it distorted in a shape of rage. The hobbit opened his mouth to say something, but halted himself, trying to comply with his partner's request to stay quiet. "Your intentions are not pure..."

Thorin's attempt on Bilbo's life was nothing personal; it was the entity that possessed his soul who wished his demise. Bilbo knew and took pity of the King who curled in fear, but this talk of not having pure intentions shook him.

Their interactions have not always been led with innocence on Bilbo's part. There have been many times where Bilbo needed to calm himself before speaking with the dwarf, so he would not expose himself as a degenerate. Though the King was paranoid, it's possible some of his beliefs stemmed from reality.

"Why would you do this? ...ANSWER ME!"

Bilbo jutted his hand away, "I did it for us."

"Why?"

The hobbit balled his fists, befuddled at this question. He already told him why on the balcony. This felt like a means to get a new confession; offering a second chance to redeem himself or else Thorin would really go through with his fatal order. With every glimmer of hope, it's been shot down right after. Bilbo desperately wanted this time to be the final one, and end in peace, but he couldn't lie.

The dark-haired dwarf slowly got up from the ground, his back away from his partner. "Tell me why you did it," Thorin said lightly, as if he returned to his normal self. Bilbo couldn't trust in it, for it felt less like him breaking free of the curse and more like a bubbling volcano waiting to erupt.

"You discredit me by withholding again?!" the dwarf turned around to see his friend standing firm against him. Thorin refused to wipe away a tear that had dropped from his eye, so Bilbo could see the consequences of his actions.

Bilbo didn't flinch when he was grabbed by his shoulders, "SPEAK, DAMMIT!" Thorin shook him, more tears blinding him, "Why did you bewitch me?!" The thief did not know of the crime he had committed to earn this reaction, and he was left even more stunned.

"What are you on about?"

"It's your fault. It must be!" Thorin carried on, spittle crashing on Bilbo's forehead, "It's never hurt so much. My chest is sore, my limbs aching, my loins are-"

"You're delirious, Thorin," Bilbo said swiftly, "Casting spells on you is not an ability I possess. I would appreciate it if you don't believe such wild theories-".

The dwarf King enveloped the hobbit in his burly arms, squeezing him tightly to where any extra force could potentially snap a bone. Bilbo shuddered as the dwarf's hot breath exhaled onto his ear, followed by a whimper.

"You fooled me into loving you," Thorin groaned, "I can't allow such distraction. No matter how much it hurts..."

Bilbo understood the King's dilemma and almost smiled in his caress because of it. Despite its lack of charm, Thorin's confession released a weight from Bilbo's spirit. The inner conflict of one's mind and heart is something the hobbit knew all too well. The question could've been reversed if he had enough air to speak it.

The dwarf's body grew heavier; as his arms lost their strong hold, Bilbo hurried to place him down on the floor. Thorin was left sat up, legs spread apart, and hands planted behind him, gasping for more air. His cheeks were reddening with heat and more sweat beaded his skin. His chest heaved while he searched for gulps of air.

"You're overheating!" the thief kneeled beside Thorin and assisted in disrobing his garb. He remained in his trousers, but his chest was bare and expanding wider with every breath he took. The brown-haired hobbit looked away while Thorin regained composure, because he was ashamed for viewing his friend's body like a tempting platter. His collarbone was prominent and sturdy, unfractured after years of battle. Pecs unshaven, dark curls seasoning his fair skin. Scars circled around Thorin, but it invited Bilbo to rub them delicately and plant kisses to prove they can still be cherished through disfigurement.

"What are you waiting for?" he huffed, "Finish me off." His eyes shifted down to his pants, then to Bilbo. The hobbit paused, not comprehending the clue he had been given. The King did a most surprising act about this; he removed the crown from his head and placed it to the side.

"There is something about you that I cannot throw away just yet," Thorin creaked a smile before offering his hand to Bilbo. His friend accepted it, but then gasped when Thorin guided him to his growing bulge. "Relieve me of this pain. I must learn more."

It finally clicked. "And then what? Toss me to my death when you are done?" Bilbo rubbed at Thorin's crotch impulsively. "I am not one whom you can play with and leave like some toy. You are delirious," he stressed, "I refuse to take advantage of that."

"You will do as I say," Thorin said sternly, "Any other outcome will not bode well for you."

"I dare you to tell me what they are. Because I am not scared to face them" Bilbo persisted in stroking, and he was not ignorant to the King letting out soft moans from his touch, "I will care for you in a manner that is respectful; not like some barbarian."

When Bilbo ran after Thorin, his other companions begged him not to. He cared for them like one would a brother, but this was something he needed to accomplish.

"It is my responsibility to fix this," he told them, "If it means an end to my life, then I can only hope it salvages yours." but he had faith that this wouldn't be the closing to anything, but rather the start of a ceasefire. He made several attempts to reach the King, all have failed, but he knew there was more he could've done, and he needed to push through his doubt and enact upon it.

"You ARE trying to upset me," Thorin controlled Bilbo's smaller body, so that he was flat on the ground looking at him from above. Thorin's face was yet to be rid of that harsh blush when he said, "A craving like this cannot be held with gloves. It must be ravaged quickly, and I can feel from your cock that you agree with me. You are claiming to be a gentleman to avoid it."

"I am not! It's just that..." Bilbo winced when the dwarf rolled his hips along his erection, "You are the Mountain King, and deserve proper treatment for bedding."

"Mmmh, but we are not in one, are we?" Thorin crawled down Bilbo's body until his mouth was inches from the hobbit's clothed shaft, "You and I are in a hall empty of Gods to judge our affair." Thorin's words implied that he thought the Gods themselves could not penetrate the walls of his castle, and that made Bilbo laugh.

"You mock your King?"

"No, I simply lost myself is all!"

"Hmm," Thorin pulled down the thief's trousers and up sprouted his erection- pulsing and leaking seed. "You must be trained to not lie any further."

Bilbo was too nervous to look down at what Thorin would do to his exposed appendage; he had his theories, but when his first one came true, it still frazzled him. Thorin's tongue was cool and seemed practiced, for his talent in swirling around the head of the cock was something a skilled lover had to attain.

"A-AHHH!" he thrusted his hips violently, tapping the back of the dwarf's throat and forcing him to pull away with a loud hack. "S-sorry! I didn't mean to!"

The dwarf wiped his mouth and raised his lips into a dark smile.

"There it is. Your truth."

Thorin removed Bilbo's pants completely, along with his own. His smaller partner followed his action and went on to remove his top, so he could feel less hot for what was about to occur. He threw away his shirt but had a second layer underneath. When he touched the bottom of it, Thorin snarled.

"Don't..." He said, his blue eyes glimmering brighter upon witnessing the silver chainmail of armor. It was worn proudly across the thief's chest; it was given to be a form of protection should anyone try to harm him. Seeing that he still had it, even with his deception, made the King's heart grow with pride.

"You belong to me," Thorin whispered, but given there wasn't anything around them, that whisper echoed through the halls- sending chills through Bilbo. He could feel his pink nipples hardening from his friend's grave tone. It shouldn't have been something that the hobbit enjoyed; his friend was still mad with power, but Bilbo reckoned that at this point they both were. What sensible individual would allow someone of the same gender to take their cock without a fight? A desperate one, somebody who found gratitude to engage intimately with their dearest friend.

Bilbo's vision became weary as he struggled to focus on Thorin taking his shaft down to the root. His large nose was buried into Bilbo's light curls, and he inhaled to gain its scent. The dwarf's tongue froze while he used his mouth to suction off the throbbing cock, attempting to milk it far too early of its seed. Still, the sight almost made Bilbo pass out. Thorin's cheeks were hallowed; to anyone else his hallowed cheeks paired with dark-ringed eyes, and long black hair would've made for a ghoulish appearance. But Bilbo still found him to be the most alluring specimen.

It would take a while for the hobbit to cum in this state, for he was too entranced by the view of the Mountain King to give into his excitement. There came a point where Bilbo felt sorry for his companion too. The dwarf tugged at his cock with much effort only to receive nothing. If the roles were switched, Bilbo presumed one of them would be relieved sooner.

"Thorin, I need you to get off," Bilbo rubbed at the dwarf's full head of hair, finding it fascinating how the few gray strands that did sprout from Thorin made his presence much more attractive. Thorin removed his mouth, but on his face was left a scowl when he said, "You will call me by title only, you understand?"

"Yes, my King."

"Now, what is so important that you disturbed me?"

Bilbo gestured to Thorin to come closer, and when he did, the hobbit took his friend's face into his hand and leaned forward to kiss him. Thorin's lips were quite soft although they were housed in the cold. Bilbo fought against his interest to kiss deeper and pulled away just as their connection was building to something more. The dwarf was astonished at this display of tenderness.

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I love you, you fool."

Bilbo used Thorin's moment of weakness to flip him over. The hobbit has done a lot of adventurous quests in his lifetime, but none were ever so terrifying as going down on a dwarf. Thorin's cock was large, too large to fit inside of anyone's holes, fortunately Bilbo was trained to consume seven meals in a day. He copied Thorin's technique of starting at the head, swirling his tongue around the rim that connected the tip from the shaft. But what really had his friend clutching to his hair was when Bilbo dipped his tongue in his narrow slit. He felt the tiny bumps of Bilbo's tongue savor his precum out of the tip, and if his fractured mind was going wild before, this was not helping.

His hips were thrusting sporadically to meet with Bilbo's strokes, as the hobbit was now using a hand to jerk the dwarf off while sucking at the tip. Thorin kept his hand on the hobbit's head with the other keeping him upright to enjoy the show. Although, if Bilbo were to look up at him, Thorin's eyes were hidden in a glaze of unfocused ecstasy. His mind jumped into a reel of memories with only himself and Bilbo; from the night they met to present. Majority of the memories had no reason to be as provocative as they were.

He did not intend to ever sleep with his assigned thief. Their business should have been done by now, and they'd go their separate ways. But then he remembered things that felt like centuries ago, including Bilbo declaring that he'd return to his home right before they were trapped underground. Thorin heard of his plan to leave, and it troubled him. That possibility had never escaped his worries even after they survived their kidnapping, and Bilbo reaffirmed his loyalty to him. Thorin feared that some part of the journey would become too much for the hobbit, and he'd reconsider leaving again.

The dwarf still didn't fully comprehend his rawest fear; not that the quest would be too difficult, but that HE would be too difficult to deal with. Their interactions had proven to the vengeful warrior that he was not only capable of trusting other species to fight for him, but that he was also able to befriend them. Thorin's subconscious, even back then, had failed to convince him that above all else, he learned that he could love and be loved unconditionally.

That is the truth that finally hit him as he watched the hobbit he sentenced to death sucking his cock. He could barely speak when his orgasm rushed up his shaft and released into Bilbo's mouth. The thief pulled back to cough and wipe the remaining cum from his lips. "Wait!" Thorin stopped him, bringing him closer so they could kiss again. The King claimed him thoroughly, parting his lips so he could enter his mouth and suck on his expert tongue.

"I taste good on you," Thorin grinned. That scandalous look wasn't going to get them anywhere, Bilbo told himself. He kept his ear out for any sounds of fighting, but even if there was, he couldn't trust himself to break free of this curse- the King had him completely enthralled.