Title: Be Careful What You Eat
Series: Part 4 of Adventures of a Different Kind
Pairings: Kíli/Bilbo; Kíli/Bilbo/Other
Rating/Warnings: NSFW; sex pollen/tentacles/whatever other kinks I'm forgettingWord Count: 2807
Disclaimer: If I owned the Hobbit it would be a porno.
Summary: Kíli and Bilbo run afoul of one of the Mirkwood's weirder plants.
Bilbo does not like the Mirkwood at all. These dark and twisted trees are nothing like the verdant forests that he grew up with in the Shire and the air is heavy with a weight he can't explain.
So even though the company has yet to encounter any other creatures within these woods, the hobbit feels a frisson of worry shoot through his when they stop one evening and his lover is nowhere to be seen.
“Has anyone seen Kíli?” The burglar asks, laying his pack on the ground by Fíli's side. The blond dwarf has just started preparing a fire for Bombur to cook supper and as Bilbo walks closer, he sees Kíli's bedroll on his brother's other side. Which means that the archer can't have gone far and indeed Fíli doesn't seem particularly concerned when he replies.
“Thorin told my brother to find some dry wood for the fire, though I doubt he's having much luck in this cursed gloom.” The other dwarf says with a shrug but while this is a perfectly reasonable explanation for Kíli's absence, Bilbo cannot shake the feeling that something isn't right. Though, of course, this could just be his body protesting against this twisted forest and the dearth of privacy that's haunted him ever since the company stepped beneath the Mirkwood's shadowed canopy.
The lack of time alone with his lover is something that has been driving the hobbit crazy and so Bilbo decides to seek out the dwarf whether his nerves are right or not. If they are then maybe this time he'll get to do the saving and if not, well, he's sure that he can find some other way to make the hours fly.
Fíli is happy enough to point him in the right direction, if slightly confused by the way that the burglar's grinning, and Bilbo walks off briskly into the gloom.
It would actually be a nice walk if not for the way the trees seem to watch the hobbit as he strides by and he has to fight the urge to whistle a jaunty tune in retaliation. However, it seems that his nerves have the right of it when the burglar reaches a small clearing and all mirth fades at the sight of Kíli sprawled out limply on the ground.
So Bilbo rushes forward to kneel by his lover, becoming almost light-headed with relief once he sees that the dwarf is breathing and feels a heartbeat beneath his hands. Whatever strange sickness has hold of Kíli, it has not been fatal yet.
However, the hobbit has barely begun to search for an injury before a flash of red catches his eye. It is an oblong fruit, partially hidden beneath the scattered sticks surrounding Kíli, and it is glowing with an unearthly scarlet light.
As soon as he sees it, Bilbo has to have it and he reaches out to grab the object with one trembling hand. Despite its unnatural shade, the fruit is strangely beautiful: so lush and sweet and fragrant that the hobbit's mouth begins to water uncontrollably. He needs to eat it, needs to taste it, even though the teeth marks on its surface tell a rather dangerous tale.
But while part of his mind knows this is a terrible idea, that warning is buried beneath his sudden hunger and the hobbit lifts the fruit to his lips to take a bite. Moments later he collapses next to Kíli as numbness starts to spread throughout his limbs.
Well I was right, Bilbo thinks, staring hazily up at the forest canopy. That was a bad plan. He's not sure how long he lays there, drifting in and out of consciousness while his body struggles to fight off whatever poison now runs through his blood. Though the burglar's actually not too worried because it's rare for a hobbit to encounter anything that his stomach cannot handle and many Shire delicacies would fell the strongest man.
Indeed, the numbness eventually fades to a sort of tingling pleasure and when a warm hand lands on his shoulder, Bilbo has to bite back a moan. Instead he turns beneath it, rolling over to look at Kíli even as something moves in the corner of his eye.
However, at the sight before him, Bilbo quickly forgets to worry about that. Because his lover is flushed and panting, eyes burning dark with desire and the moment their gazes meet, Kíli leans forward with a hungry groan. The warmth beneath the hobbit's skin ignites into a fever when their lips crash together, his mind fast disappearing into a lust filled haze. He has to take the archer now, has to claim him and mark him and paint him with his seed. The burglar needs to see it dripping out of Kíli, that tight passage clenching around his cock until it sucks him dry.
And the dwarf is just as frantic, writhing wildly in Bilbo's arms and nipping at his tongue. “Come on, give it to me,” He growls, grinding hard against his lover's thigh. “I want you so far in me that I feel it in my bones.”
The hobbit is only too happy to oblige him, ripping at Kíli's clothes until he can get at the skin beneath. Though as much as Bilbo wants the archer naked, he cannot stop kissing him long enough to manage it and his tongue delves deep into the hot cavern of the other's mouth. But then the hobbit drags his nails across his lover's shoulders, Kíli shuddering helplessly against him and his whimpers drive the burglar mad.
He slams them back into the ground with a snarl, Bilbo sinking his teeth into the dwarf's neck as he shoves his own trousers off. But when the hobbit sits back to do the same to Kíli's, he can't breathe for a moment through the lust in his blood.
Because the dwarf is gorgeous like this: tunic rucked up around his shoulders and hair strewn wild across the ground. He's fucking gorgeous as he orders his lover to touch him, brown eyes blazing fiercely and his cock jutting proudly toward the sky. However, before Bilbo can dive back in, shove those endless legs apart and sink in deep where he belongs, the very forest surrounding them surges into life.
Vines slither down from the trees, wrapping around Kíli like serpents and the hobbit is about to scream when one of them curls around his aching length. He chokes then, inhaling spit instead of air as it strokes slick and smooth against him, so impossibly good that Bilbo suddenly can't bring himself to care how weird this is.
Because every touch only fans his passion higher as more tendrils twine around his arms, weaving underneath the hobbit's remaining layers with speed and skill. Soon their clothes are tossed aside completely, the dwarf's face twisting with pleasure while vines writhe across his skin.
Indeed the plants are everywhere, some spreading Kíli's limbs wide as others tease along his lips and Bilbo groans harshly at the sight of the other splayed out like an offering. Every inch of the hobbit aches to finally take his lover but the tendrils hold him immobile, forcing him to watch helplessly while one thick vine slithers along the crack of Kíli's ass.
It teases him for a moment before plunging forward, the archer's back arching in a perfect bow as he cries out Bilbo's name. With each thrust the tendril pushes deeper, swelling within the dwarf until his entrance is stretched wide around it and every breath's a gasping moan.
By this point, the burglar's cock is throbbing, the light touches of the plants around him only serving to hone that fevered edge. In truth they seem more interested in Kíli, largely ignoring the hobbit as the vines fuck his lover almost violently. Deeper and deeper the tendril pushes, shoving the dwarf along the ground with every thrust and Bilbo cannot tear his eyes away as it disappears within the archer's ass.
So the hobbit is far past worrying over what in Yavanna's name is happening, his mind consumed by the need to reach his lover and he rips one arm free of its entanglement. The rest of the vines tighten their grip immediately but when he doesn't attempt any further escape, the plants relax again, allowing the burglar to reach out.
Bilbo runs his hand down Kíli's stomach, the dwarf trembling beneath his fingers as he moves toward his goal. One quick grope along his lover's cock to take the edge off and then he's tracing the taut edge of Kíli's entrance, the muscle fluttering uncontrollably with every teasing stroke.
The way that the dwarf shudders is almost hypnotic and he's never seen the other come apart quite like this. And yet the past few minutes have nothing on how his lover shatters when Bilbo grips the vine within him and presses it in deeper, driving forward until he finds the place which makes him scream. Scream and moan and beg the hobbit for release. But as lewd as it is to watch Kíli fuck himself on the tendril in his hand, the craving beneath his skin still isn't satisfied. So he pulls the vine free of his lover, a long slow slide that has both of them panting harshly, and then Bilbo sinks home.
“Valar, yes,” He groans as Kíli's heat finally surrounds him, inner walls somehow still clenching tight. His first strokes are erratic as the pleasure threatens to overwhelm him but with the skill of long practice, the hobbit soon finds a steady rhythm that has them surging toward release.
Around the pair, vine tendrils writhe and tangle as they struggle to cope with Bilbo's actions and yet this confusion does not last long. Moments after the burglar began to fuck Kíli properly, the tendrils shoot forward again to cover every patch of skin that they can reach. One vine fills the dwarf's mouth, muffling his filthy babble as another wraps around his cock, the touch making him clench tighter and the hobbit groan.
The plants seize this opportunity to claim his mouth as well, one slim tendril slipping between his lips and tangling with his tongue. It's almost rubbery, cold and smooth against his teeth as it begins to give off a sweet liquid that Bilbo can't help but swallow down.
It's really almost unpleasant at first and yet the more he drinks, the more the hobbit hungers. Soon his lips are wrapped around the tendril, throat working as he tries to suck it dry and the burglar hardly notices when more vines wrap around his waist. For even in this lust-tinged haze, his hips have never stopped moving and neither dwarf nor hobbit should last much longer now.
Yet despite the pleasure coiling in his gut and sparking through his body, Bilbo cannot seem to reach that final goal. Instead his need just builds impossibly higher, the hobbit's fingers digging into Kíli's hips as he drives deep into his ass.
Bilbo is mad with it, his motions crazed and frantic and if this lasts much longer, his heart will probably give out. So when a cold tendril curls around his balls, the hobbit moans with frustration because it's far too much and yet not enough to rescue him. But then that vine slithers higher, moving alongside Bilbo's cock and they thrust into Kíli together on his next stroke. The extra stretch makes the dwarf thrash incoherently beneath him, his walls squeezing tight when the tendril begins to swell again.
It should be impossible for the archer to take any more with the way his ass is gaping and yet Kíli continues to open for them so easily. Truly his body seems to welcome the intrusion, legs spread as wide as they can go as the dwarf shoves into every thrust. He impales himself on Bilbo's length while the vine pulses within him, driving the burglar ever deeper until nothing is between them anymore.
Then the hobbit manages only a few more strokes before his lover finally cracks, seed shooting across his chest with a silent scream. But although Bilbo is now locked within him, hard enough to grind stone and shuddering from the pressure, he is still blocked from his own release.
Only when the vines bend him forward and another tendril teases at his entrance does the burglar realize what he needs.
While Bilbo has never been overly fond of penetration, not like Kíli anyway, today that doesn't seem to matter. Today he craves that deeper touch within him and he shoves his ass high, kept from begging by the vine in his mouth. However, the plant seems to understand his silent plea and when it slides inside him, slick and cold and perfect, something within Bilbo finally gives way.
He goes limp, allowing the vines to press him into the dwarf's chest while the tendril slithers deeper, his entrance burning with the stretch. The slow and languid movements are a sharp contrast to the pounding of his heart but the plants will not be hurried as they fill him to the brink.
Until, finally, the tendril seeks out that glorious place inside him and it is the hobbit's turn to scream. His mind whites out, pleasure crashing through his body to sweep him over the edge that he's been chasing for so long.
In the same moment, the vines around Bilbo's waist yank him backward, impaling him deeper and dragging his cock out of his lover so that his seed mingles with Kíli's on his skin. He goes boneless then, slumping within the tangle of plants as the fevered energy that drove him disappears, leaving a pleasant lethargy in its wake. So he watches lazily as the plants suck every trace of their release off of the dwarf's body, the archer moaning weakly when his cock and ass are cleaned.
Then it is Bilbo's turn again, the tendril slipping from his entrance with a wet squelch before other vines clean him thoroughly. Within moments it is as though this incident has never happened and the plants give the pair one last sinuous caress before releasing both completely and disappearing back into the trees.
Though even once they're gone, the hobbit continues to lay there, staring off into the Mirkwood and thinking, What the heck was that? For while his mind is still strangely fuzzy, the hobbit has sense enough to wonder why he isn't freaking out right now. But he had been planning on ravishing Kíli if not exactly in this manner and at the moment, he's feeling too well-fucked to care.
After another minute, his lover finally stirs beside him, raising his head off the ground to ask, “So... Did we really just have sex with a plant?”
“You know, I think we did.” Bilbo meets the archer's eyes, relieved to see a sparkle of amusement rather than any kind of panic in their depths. Though the hobbit has to fight a sudden urge to cackle hysterically, not sure if he would be able to stop once he began. “I knew there was something weird about this place.”
“Well you were right.” Kíli replies, sitting up with a groan and looking around the clearing for his clothes. “But I suppose this could have been far worse since at least it didn't want to eat us when it was done. Besides...” He adds, mouth twisting up into a wicked grin. “...I've done stranger things before.”
“Oh? You have, have you?” Bilbo asks, intrigued despite himself. But the archer just gives him a coy wink and swears his lips are sealed before getting dressed again.
“You'll just have to use your imagination,” His lover says, kneeling down to gather up the firewood. Kíli won't give in no matter what the hobbit offers and Bilbo's so focused on finding out the dwarf's secret that he doesn't notice when his memories begin to fade.
So by the time the pair returns to camp, the thought of sex-crazed vines in Mirkwood seems no more than a pleasant fantasy, something the burglar's mind came up with to ease the pain of this long drought. Really as far as Bilbo knows, he ran into Kíli on the dwarf's way back from the deeper forest and neither of them has an answer when Thorin asks why this errand took so long.
For even the twinge of well-used muscles has faded completely and while the hobbit can't shake the feeling that he's forgetting something, he's never been one to dwell on uncertainty for long. This quest is dangerous enough without allowing his mind to dream up nightmares and he's far more interested in getting Kíli alone beneath the trees.