Time Stamp II: One Year Later
Pairings: dub-con shapeshifter!Smaug/Kíli, minor other pairings
Rating/Warnings: NSFW; Warnings for non-con, dub-con, kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome, violence, extreme stretching, orgasm denial, minor blood kink, D/S elements, toys, object insertion, tail sex, dragon sex, public sex, blow jobs, plugs, generally fucked up relationships and anything else I forgot aboutWord Count: 6,840 (23,746 so far)
Disclaimer: If I owned the hobbit it would be disturbing
Summary: Being chosen as a dragon's mate is a terribly dangerous thing.
Time Stamp I
Kíli cannot seem to stop twitching as he walks down the street. The archer isn't used to wearing clothes any longer and while the leather of his coat is as soft as silk against his naked skin, it still feels strange to him.
To be honest, everything feels strange after so long spent within his master's caverns, the city that the dwarf once knew now unfamiliar. This may not be the first time that Smaug has taken Kíli from their mountain – indeed the archer's hunting trips have been quite successful at feeding every hunger since his mate has never been able to resist the sight of him wearing nothing but a quiver and fresh blood upon his lips – but this is the first time that Kíli has encountered other people and the sheer mass of the crowd is making him uncomfortable.
People keep staring at him, watching the dwarf with either scorn or naked hunger in their eyes. Not that Kíli can really blame them when he knows exactly what he looks like: the dark leather of his trench coat hugging his body as though it were a second skin and the plug buried inside his ass forcing him to walk with a wide sway to his hips. Though at least one person is probably just eyeing the glittering chains that Kíli twined in his hair this morning; yards of shining gold and bejeweled mithril wound into the long braid that hangs down his back.
But even if the archer understands the hungry glances, only his mate is allowed to touch him, and he presses closer to Smaug whenever someone bumps his arm. Because every collision jostles the plug inside of Kíli, the archer fighting back a moan as it rubs against his prostate hard.
This is the plug that his master uses when he must leave Kíli alone for several hours, the one that the dwarf forged by his own hand. The hollow tube is light enough to be comfortable for extended periods while large enough to hold back the void of emptiness and these days the plug is the only thing that lets the archer function without Smaug's cock inside of him.
This morning the dragon had laid his mate down on the bed and rimmed him until his hole was dripping before pushing the metal tube inside. As always, the dwarf's body accepted it eagerly, his master settling the plug to his liking and then sliding two small chains through the loops at its base. These Smaug wrapped around the archer's hips and locked into the cock ring that secured Kíli's shaft and balls. He had been hard enough to grind diamonds by then, unable to hold back a groan at the knowledge that his master wasn't going to let him come just yet.
However, his mate promised him that they were going somewhere special instead, giving Kíli the coat that he's now wearing and then carrying him down to the ground again. The dragon landed just outside the city, shifting back to his humanoid shape and throwing a cloak over his shoulders to hide his nakedness even as a glamour disguised the truth of his heritage.
Indeed, he looks like any other man now, if a bit taller than the average, and the dwarf is beginning to wish that Smaug had done the same to him. Yet no matter how much part of Kíli wants to flee back to the mountain, his mate is so excited that the archer can't bear to mention it. Besides, the dwarf is actually rather curious about their destination and so he seizes his chance once they turn into the metro station and the crowd finally thins.
“Master,” Kíli murmurs, looking up at Smaug with his most pleading eyes. “Please, Master, will you tell me where we're going now?”
At his request, the dragon wraps his arm around the archer's shoulders, kneeling down so that he can speak without any strangers overhearing him. “Of course, my darling, I did not mean to keep you in suspense needlessly. There is a gathering for beings such as me: monsters, half-breeds and other beasts who do not find mates easily. We gather to commiserate with each other's trials, to share our stories and keep our hopes alive. You were not yet ready when Belreth called the last meeting, but it is time for me to show off the treasure I call mine.”
Smaug finished his explanation just as their train arrived, his master leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Kíli's lips before climbing back to his feet. “I know that you will shine brighter than any other and if you wish it, we will show my brethren exactly why they should burn with jealousy.”
While the dwarf isn't entirely sure that he likes the idea of performing in front of an audience, he trusts his mate to abide by his wishes and there is a certain pride in being able to fulfill the dragon's needs.
So Kíli follows Smaug onto the monorail without any further questions, waiting until his master sits in an empty carriage and then taking his accustomed place at the dragon's feet. He rests his head on Smaug's knee and allows his mind to go blank, focusing on the comforting weight of his master's hands against his hair.
Kíli isn't sure how long he sits there, one hand toying idly with the end of his braid, and in truth, time doesn't really matter to him anymore. But the dwarf knows that it's at least a few stops down the line when a rough-looking group of men gets on the monorail and Kíli would have been content to ignore their presence if not for the jeers. Indeed, the men take one look at the archer and start laughing loudly, Kíli brought back to the present by the annoyance washing over him.
“Look at the pretty dwarf,” the leader of the gang whispers to one of his cronies, “All dressed up and only that big lug to take care of him.”
“I think it's a lady-dwarf. I hear they look just like their menfolk, just with cunts instead of beards, and I bet she's just aching for a proper dicking now.”
These men would never have dared to speak like that if they'd known Smaug's true form, but the dragon's glamour is still in place and while he appears to be a large man, this gang has numbers to give them courage now. Indeed the leader becomes a little bolder each time the rest of the men laugh at his insults and Kíli knows that his master's going to snap soon given the way that his leg is trembling. But if Smaug transforms now, he'll derail the entire monorail and that would put something of a wrench in the dragon's plans.
So the archer really does mean to resolve this without violence, already thinking of ways to calm his master's temper when the idiot across the aisle manages to change his plans entirely.
“Hey, lady, why don't you leave that ugly bastard and come over here instead? The four of us would be happy to give you the fucking you've been craving in exchange for a few of those pretty gems you wear,” the man says, leering at Kíli disgustingly.
While the dwarf might have been able to ignore this latest insult as he'd ignored the others, the gang's leader pushing him too far when he adds, “Actually, we'll be wanting those rocks anyway as a toll for your safe journey,” and Kíli decides that there needs to be bloodshed after all.
“Master, may I?” the archer asks, his fingers twitching in anticipation as he waits for Smaug's reply.
Kíli doesn't actually need an answer since he reads his master's permission is the sudden loss of tension in his body, the dragon relaxing back in his seat to watch the coming show. Still, the archer waits until Smaug nods once in approval before he glides to his feet in a dark swirl of leather that makes his audience gulp audibly.
“You want to fuck me, boys?” the dwarf purrs, prowling toward the men just as a hunter stalks its prey. “I'm afraid you've rather overestimated your own attractiveness. But if you apologize to me and my mate this instant, I might allow you to leave peacefully.”
“Your mate? You're a fucking nutter, aren't you?” the leader scoffs. “Why would we apologize to such scrawny orc-bait as that fellow over ther-”
The man trails off as he stares over Kíli's shoulder and the archer knows that Smaug must have let his glamour drop. So the dwarf takes advantage of the gang's distraction to pull his dagger from the sheath strapped to his upper thigh.
This weapon was another gift from his master on the anniversary of their first night together and Kíli loves it almost as much as he loves the bow that he found within the dragon's hoard. The blade is functional rather than ornate but the hilt fits within the archer's hand as though it belongs there, flashing out like quicksilver to cut down his enemies.
Kíli hamstrings the gang's leader first, the man crumpling to the floor in agony as the dwarf turns his attention to his companions and in truth, it's no fair fight at all. For while the archer has seen few battles in his lifetime, his uncle trained him well and these are not the first men to die by Kíli's hand.
So he ducks under a wild punch and guts the fool who tried to strike him before turning to block the third man's dagger as it falls. The cheap metal snaps when it hits the edge of the dwarf's knife, Kíli catching the broken piece and shoving it into his opponent's gaping mouth. Kíli slits the man's throat while he's busy choking, dodging to the side so that he doesn't get any blood on this fine coat of his.
By now the last man has pulled a thick wooden shield down off his shoulders, holding it in front of his chest as he backs toward the door. While he can't actually leave the car while they're still moving, Kíli's foe seems determined to attempt it anyway.
However, like many people who have never fought dwarves in battle, this man leaves a gap between the bottom of his shield and the floor, one large enough for the archer to strike him easily. So Kíli lunges forward, taking the man down by his ankles and then stabbing him through the heart with one quick thrust. Only then does the dwarf turn back to the gang's former leader, ending the man's pitiful attempt at escaping with a hard boot in his back.
“You have two choices now,” Kíli explains conversationally, shoving his foot down harder with every word. “You can apologize as I so politely asked you earlier, beg forgiveness for insulting me and my master and I will give you a swifter death than you deserve. Or we can do this the hard way where I kill you slowly, carving a meal for my mate from your living flesh piece by piece.”
“Fine, you psycho,” the man groans, glaring up at the archer balefully. “I'm sorry I ever met you and your fucking master so will you just get it over with.”
“Well... that was pathetic but since I'm in something of a hurry, I suppose that it will do.” Kíli ends the idiot's worthless life and then wipes his blade clean on the man's tunic, the dwarf looking dispassionately down at the carnage he has caused.
It's a bloody mess – literally – but the archer cannot bring himself to regret the deaths of those who were gearing up to rape and rob him if they could. These men were scum and the world will be better off without them so Kíli simply sheathes his dagger and turns back to Smaug instead. Fighting has always made the dwarf's blood run hot, his need increased ten-fold by the way that the plug had moved inside him and ignited into an inferno by the glint of desire in his master's eyes.
So Kíli struts over to the dragon, glancing up at Smaug through his lashes and purring filthily, “Did you enjoy the show?”
“You know I did, my darling,” his mate replies, throwing open his cloak to reveal the naked length of his cock. “I enjoyed it very much and your effort deserves an equally fine reward.”
Smaug pulls Kíli forward until he's straddling the dragon's thighs, large hands sliding beneath the archer's coat to cup his ass. His master's fingers trace the edge of his entrance, razor sharp claws leaving bloody scratches on his skin. The sharp pain makes the dwarf moan throatily even as Smaug widens his stance, pushing Kíli's legs apart until he's spread open on the dragon's lap. This position grinds the edge of the archer's plug hard against his prostate, little mewls of pleasure spilling from his mouth.
“I'm not going to fuck you,” Smaug says even as his hands unbutton the dwarf's coat and toss it aside. “But you may suck me as a reward for your little demonstration and if you please me, I may let you come.”
Kíli nods fervently at his mate's words, mouth watering already at the sight before his eyes. Because the dragon's length is right there, thick and long and so close that he doesn't even have to bend. Instead the dwarf just sinks a little lower on Smaug's lap and runs his tongue across the head of his master's cock, savoring the smoky taste that coats his lips.
The archer still can't swallow all of Smaug since even the dragon's magic has its limits and Kíli likes his teeth right where they are, but he's learned to make up for his deficiency. So Kíli strokes the base of the dragon's shaft with his hands while using his mouth to its best advantage on the head of Smaug's dick. Every soft lick makes his master grow a little larger, swelling beneath the archer's tongue until Kíli's hands can't reach all the way around him anymore.
So the dwarf seeks out the faint dusting of scales at the base of his master's length instead, these soft plates more sensitive than any other part of the dragon's body, and Smaug moans loudly as Kíli's clever fingers dance across his skin.
While archer's own cock is aching now, he's only allowed to touch himself when his master wishes and his hands are rather occupied at the moment anyway. But Kíli can't stop his body from seeking friction, hips thrusting helplessly as he chases every drop of seed that Smaug gives to him. For the taste is an addiction now; Kíli craves that hot fluid on his lips almost as much as he craves the feeling of his master fucking him and if he cannot have the one, then he will make do with this.
The dwarf covers the slit of Smaug's cock with his mouth and sucks hard, groaning low in his throat when he feels the dragon trembling under him. His master hasn't been touching Kíli except to keep him balanced, but now Smaug reaches out to cup the back of the archer's head. He presses down gently, giving his mate time to adjust before his mouth is filled.
Because when Kíli tilts his head just right and relaxes, the dragon's length slips down his throat almost easily. Smaug pushes the dwarf down until he chokes and then draws back, allowing Kíli just enough air to keep from passing out.
The archer really can't manage more than a few inches given his master's girth, but it feels like more every time that Smaug shoves forward, Kíli hanging limply in his arms as the dragon fucks his mouth. There's a heady freedom in being used for his master's pleasure, the dwarf's own need secondary next to the breathy moans falling from Smaug's lips.
But his mate has always been a generous lover and it's Kíli's turn to gasp again when the dragon's tail slips between his legs. There's another reason that the dwarf loves this particular plug over all the others, a reason beyond its comfortable weight and the perfect way it fits inside of him. He loves this plug because it's hollow, allowing Smaug to tease him just like this. Every thrust of his master's tail pulls on the chains attached to the base of the plug, jerking on his cock as the dragon presses into him.
“Please, Master,” the archer moans around Smaug's length, his hands digging roughly into his mate's thighs. Kíli can't last long like this, his head swimming with sensation and his dick aching to be touched.
Because every breath is soaked with the scent of his master, the taste and feel of Smaug surrounding Kíli until there's nothing else. Nothing but these few points of contact, his skin burning everywhere that the dragon is pressed against him, and there is no room in his mind for any thought but more.
So the dwarf looks up at his master, begging with his eyes now that he has lost the strength to speak, and as always, his mate takes care of him. Smaug bucks into Kíli's mouth, holding him down until his vision starts to darken and tears fall from his eyes. While the archer has enough discipline not to struggle, his lungs are already aching when the dragon's tail fucks into him again. As the tapered edge of the plug rubs against Kíli's prostate, Smaug reaches his free hand down to unsnap his mate's cock ring and that sudden rush of blood is all it takes.
The dwarf comes then, hips thrusting helplessly as his master pistons him. For Smaug takes this opportunity to push even further down Kíli's throat, shoving his cock deeper than he ever has before. The archer swallows around him, throat working frantically as he tries to breathe through this intrusion, and soon the sharp constriction sends Smaug over the edge as well.
Kíli chokes again when hot liquid fills his mouth, the dragon's seed flowing faster than his mate can swallow it. Eventually the archer just stops trying, letting Smaug's seed pour into him until the pressure and the lack of air make him black out.
“Darling, wake up. This is our stop.”
Kíli opens his eyes to see his master standing above him, the dragon's true beauty disguised once more. It's still odd to see Smaug appear so human, but glamoured or not, the dwarf would know him anywhere. No one else has ever looked at him like that, his mate's gaze possessive and adoring all at once as it strokes across his skin. That gaze tells Kíli that the dragon loves him as much as the words of passion that the other speaks.
So the dwarf smiles up at his master before pushing himself upright, the air cool on his bare skin as he slides to his feet. He had been lying across three seats of the carriage, his trench coat draped over his shoulders to keep him warm in sleep.
Not the most comfortable bed, but Kíli has slept in worse positions and he could hardly have expected to curl up against his master in such a cramped environment. Indeed, Smaug had been busy while the archer was unconscious for there's no trace of their recent adventures to be seen. Even the cock ring is back, though at least the dwarf's balls aren't aching as they were before. He feels content instead of desperate and ready to meet his master's associates without fear.
How can Kíli fear anything with his dragon there beside him, prepared to kill anyone who insults the mate he's chosen and willing to hide the bodies when the dwarf defends himself? Because the corpses of those foolish men have disappeared, a few drops of blood the only evidence that they ever existed, and when Smaug gives the archer a red-tinged smile, Kíli knows the bodies won't be found. Not that anyone in this city would have cared enough to prosecute, but the dwarf has no interest in talking about his life to those who would not understand.
So Kíli gives his master a grateful smile, the dragon helping him back into his coat before leading him out onto the street. They walk for a few blocks before turning down an unmarked alleyway, their path ending at a thick metal door.
There's a sign on the wall, Moria inscribed in shining letters and the door swings open slowly when Smaug knocks. The massive orc standing in the entrance doesn't say anything at first, staring at the pair coldly until the dragon drops his glamour to reveal his true form. Then the orc breaks into a wide grin and he reaches out to clap Smaug's shoulder companionably.
“Welcome, friend. I see the rumors that you had finally found a pet are true. Most of the others are inside already and they'll definitely want to see this pretty little thing.” The doorkeeper waves the pair through the door with no more conversation, giving Kíli a grin that flirts with indecency.
But the dwarf forgets all about the orc's ill manners once his eyes adjust to the dim light enough to see the rest of Moria. The place is laid out like many of the clubs that Kíli used to frequent – a central stage surrounded by tables, chairs, and booths along the wall – but the clientele is a different matter entirely. Moria is packed with orcs, skin-changers, and more half-breeds than the archer ever knew existed, these creatures mingling with ones that Kíli cannot even name.
However, the dwarf feels a flash of pride when he sees that Smaug is the only dragon and larger than the rest of the club's other clientele by far. Kíli also seems to be the only dwarf in attendance, though there are a handful of elves and men in various states of undress sitting on their masters' laps or kneeling at their feet.
'Pet' the orc at the door had called him and while the archer doesn't particularly like the sound of that when he knows that Smaug is his mate as well as master, looking around Moria he can understand the sentiment. For while the stage was empty when the pair entered, by the time Smaug has led Kíli to a free booth along the wall, an Uruk-hai has dragged his delicate elf-maid onto the platform for a show. She's not wearing anything but a bone corset and the highest heels that the dwarf has ever seen and she screams in pleasure when her master drives into her right there for everyone to see.
The display is slighting shocking even though Smaug had implied that such things might happen but, to be honest, Kíli loses interest fast. Because the days when a scant twelve inches could impress him are long over and he turns away from the show to kneel at his master's side where he belongs.
Only the dragon stops his mate before he can sit on the floor as usual, Smaug pulling Kíli onto the leather bench seat and tucking the dwarf against his side. They've never sat like this before but he follows his master's lead as always and the change makes sense when Smaug leans down to murmur in his ear.
“Do you see, my love? There are so many like us – like me – and a mate such as you is the treasure that makes our lives complete. See how they look at you? See the hunger and the jealousy? But they will not dare to speak of their desire because they know what I will do to anyone who tries to take you away from me.” And the others are looking, particularly those who have no mate standing with them; they are looking and lusting and with Smaug pressed against him, Kíli doesn't mind at all.
Let everyone be jealous – masters, pets and mates alike – because the dragon is the greatest prize in Moria and the dwarf has won him heart and soul. So the archer looks around the club with a slightly gloating smile and Smaug's brethren must take this as an invitation because Kíli and his master are not left alone for long.
“Belreth, it is good to see you,” Smaug says when another member of Moria walks up to greet him, some strange hybrid of a man and a bull that the dwarf does not recognize.
“A minotaur,” the dragon murmurs before inviting his friend to sit, Kíli tuning out their conversation to observe the young man standing at this Belreth's back. He seems like a kindred spirit, perhaps because he carries himself with more pride than most of the other pets in attendance, one who understands that they are partners as much as slaves no matter what it seems.
Besides, the man looks like he can throw a punch and that's always been something that the dwarf respects. So Kíli gives the other man a nod – one mate to another – before melting back against his master's side. However, the archer only has a few minutes to enjoy this new position before his serenity is interrupted by a disappointed scoff.
“A dwarf, Smaug, truly? Tell me; do you just let him lick your dick a few times and call it good enough?” the interloper says and Kíli is getting really tired of people insulting him.
This time it's an orc, tall and pale and covered with scars, his pet a slim blond elf who's kneeling at his feet. “I always knew that you were crazy, dragon, and now I have my proof. After all, I stole myself an elf prince and he still screams bloody murder every time I enter him so I can't imagine how that puny creature can survive that monster cock of yours.”
The orc sounds far too proud of the damage that he still causes to his lover and Kíli meets the elf's eyes worriedly. Sure Smaug has hurt him, but his master never means it and he always heals the dwarf so sweetly afterward.
However, the elf just gives him a wink and a grin when he sees the archer staring so he obviously doesn't need rescuing. Actually, given the muscles that Kíli can see through the other pet's artfully tattered clothing, he's probably quite capable of rescuing himself if he wanted to. The elf stays by choice – they all do – and whatever polite society thinks of the dwarf's relationship, here in Moria the last bit of shame within his heart disappears.
“I assure you, Azog, my dwarf is quite capable of taking me.” Kíli tunes back into the conversation just in time to hear his master defending him quite fiercely and if Azog had been a saner person, he would have retreated at the anger in Smaug's voice.
But apparently this orc has a death wish because he just waves away the dragon's threat dismissively. “I'll believe that when I see it, dragon. Bringing that into Moria is an insult to the rest of us and we should throw you and your little pet out onto the street. Smaug the Delusional is what you should be called.”
At this Kíli's temper snaps again, the dwarf pushing himself upright and climbing onto the table so that he and Azog are staring eye to eye. “You should not insult my master, orc. It tends to make me angry and I killed four men on the trip here who made that same mistake; I'd be happy to add one scrawny orc to my tally now.”
The archer gives Azog a slow once over, lingering on the scrap of leather that covers his more tender bits.
“Yes, scrawny,” Kíli drawls to a peal of laughter, which is when he realizes that the entire club is watching them.
“You have a feisty one here,” Belreth chuckles as the pale orc stalks off angrily, the minotaur not the only one with amusement in his eyes.
“That is why I chose him,” Smaug replies with a fond smile before hooking a finger through Kíli's collar and drawing him back to the bench. “Still, my dear, there will be no more bloodshed on this day for Moria is neutral ground.”
“Of course, Master,” the dwarf murmurs, his fire banked instantly as he relaxes into the dragon's side again.
Indeed Kíli was content to return to people watching and so that might have been the last excitement for the evening if one of the skin-changers had not asked, “But can he really take you? I know I am not near your size, but the only one to catch my eye is a hobbit and I have not dared to try for fear of breaking him.”
“You need not fear that, my friend. Almost anyone can take you if you have the patience to prepare them properly. Patience and a few spells to ease the way, but I know of several wizards who could help if you do not have the knack. Shall we show them, my love? Shall we show them what is possible?”
This last is directed at Kíli and the dwarf barely has to consider the question before he's nodding his assent. While he probably wouldn't have agreed at the start of their journey, Kíli is proud to show these people the dragon's blessing now that he has seen the truth of Moria. However, some things still belong to his master so the archer murmurs, “Not the hair?” and is rewarded with a glowing smile in return.
These folk do not need to see Kíli's hair unbound, tangled with mithril and sticking to his sweat-soaked skin; not when the sight makes Smaug come undone so easily. But they are going to receive the show of a lifetime and the dwarf's cock is already stirring as his master leads him onto the stage.
Once there the dragon shrugs off his clothing, a murmur of interest rising from the crowd when they take in the true size of him. Then with a flick of Smaug's fingers, a few leather cushions appear on the stage, Kíli kneeling at the touch of his mate's hand. He unbuttons his own coat slowly, making a seduction of every motion and his dick rises further when he receives his own murmur from their audience.
Smaug takes over again once Kíli is naked, removing the dwarf's cock ring and unhooking the chains from the plug inside of him. Though his master leaves the others: the gold band linking the archer's nipples, the jeweled chains wrapped around his arms from wrist to shoulder, and of course, the shining collar round his neck.
Then the dragon pushes his mate onto his hands and knees, raising Kíli's ass in the air so that he can remove his plug more easily. The dwarf grips the cushions hard when Smaug begins to pull it out, biting his lip as he struggles to relax.
This is the worst part of being fucked, when he's left hollow and gaping and his body is desperate for anything to ease the ache inside of him. Once, after his master had left Kíli alone without plugging his ass as usual, the archer had ended up fucking himself with his own bow in order to stop the need from overwhelming him. Hardly his first choice but there hadn't been anything else because the dragon had locked him in his old bedroom as punishment for pushing him too far.
Even the bow had barely taken the edge off since it was far too skinny for the dwarf to really feel it, but at least it had been long. Long enough to reach the spaces that his mate had left empty and Kíli's own fist shoved in with it had made the wait almost bearable.
Still, the archer had been sobbing by the time that Smaug returned, frantic with the need for his master to take care of him properly. And the dragon had, removing the bow gently and then fucking Kíli for hours until he finally felt complete.
But this time the dwarf knows that he won't be kept waiting and he holds tight to this knowledge to support him as the last few inches of his plug slide free. Smaug is saying something, the dragon's voice rumbling through his mate's body, but Kíli can't grasp more than a few words over the ringing in his ears.
“Keep him open... always so hungry for it... do anything.”
Apparently his master has decided to turn this into an impromptu lesson on maintenance and proper training, the world sliding back into focus when Smaug pushes one fist inside of him.
“See how easily he accepts this? It took several weeks for us to reach this point but my patience was well-rewarded in the end. Patience is the key.”
Kíli gasps sharply when the dragon pulls him back onto his haunches, the new position driving his master's hand in that much deeper as his body clenches around it helplessly. It also gives the dwarf a much better view of their audience, masters and pets alike staring at Kíli hungrily, and he shoves himself down onto Smaug's fist just to prove he can.
“Please, Master. No more teasing,” the archer murmurs, twisting around to look his mate in the eye. The dragon's eyes are glowing golden as they always do when he's excited, the glow brightening when Kíli begs again. “Please, Master, just fuck me. Let's show these novices how to do it right.”
He's been waiting for this all day, ever since he first woke up this morning, and he groans brokenly when Smaug pulls his fist back out.
“Ride me,” the dragon orders, lying down on the cushions so that his cock juts proudly toward the sky. Kíli actually has to stand in order to obey him, his master's tail holding him steady as he steps forward on shaky feet. But soon he's standing over his prize, the archer barely needing to bend his knees before the tip of Smaug's length breaches him.
However, as much as the dwarf would like to slam himself down all at once, Kíli slides onto the dragon's cock as slowly as he can instead, eyes fixed firmly on their audience. This way he can focus on the perfect stretch inside him, Kíli's desperation easing when his mate sinks home. This way the crowd can watch the bulge of Smaug's cock move through the archer's body until it comes to a halt just below his ribs.
Kíli has to stop for a second once his ass finally hits the dragon's lap, his master's enormous length fully seated inside of him. His entire body is shaking with the pleasure of it, the rightness of their connection, and Kíli almost doesn't want to pull off again.
But even if his dick wasn't clamoring for attention, Smaug gave the dwarf an order and he must follow it. So Kíli starts small, rolling his hips so that his master's length rubs against his prostate teasingly. Then he begins to fuck himself harder, rising up a few inches before dropping back down again, his speed and height increasing with every thrust. Soon the archer's thighs are burning, his muscles shaking as he lets a foot of Smaug's cock slip from his body and then slams back onto it.
He can't come like this – the logistics of it simply don't work for his needs anymore – but he can certainly enjoy the sensation and he's moaning freely by the time his master loses it. A low growl is Kíli's only warning before Smaug lifts him into the air, turning the dwarf around and then pushing him down onto his hands and knees again. The dragon drapes himself across the archer's back, claws digging into his shoulders so that his mate can thrust to the hilt with every stroke.
“More, please. Harder, Master, I can take it,” Kíli urges wildly until his mate's tail wraps around his throat and steals his voice away.
“Yes, my love, I know that you can take it. You can take everything. And so I'm going to show them; I'm going to split you apart and show them just how rare a prize I've won,” Smaug whispers into the archer's ear and he nearly comes without permission when he realizes what this means.
The first time that the dragon did this, it hurt Kíli so badly that he blacked out and didn't regain consciousness until his master's gift had healed the damage done. But that pain paved the way for the future and now the dwarf's body just finds more space from somewhere as Smaug's cock grows inside him, the dragon shifting as slowly as he can.
All Kíli can do is melt into the cushions, focusing on the slice of scales against his back as his master pries him open utterly. He can't move, can't think, can't even breathe for there is no space left within him for his lungs to fill. There is only his mate, massive claws slamming down on either side of his body as sharp fangs brush across his skin. Kíli wants to live in this moment forever, this place where he does not exist except as a vessel for his master's pleasure, but Smaug never lasts long like this.
Kíli is simply too tight around him, squeezing the dragon's cock like a vise no matter how many times that burning flesh splits him open and brands him deep within. So it only takes a few more strokes – hard, fierce strokes that shove the dwarf halfway across the stage – before Smaug is coming inside of him.
The pressure is overwhelming as the dragon's seed gushes into the archer's body, seeking out what few tiny spaces still remain. It streams into the dwarf until he's filled to bursting and he gags on the liquid that pours between his lips.
In truth, Kíli is beyond pain, beyond even pleasure now. There's nothing but this one moment of perfect being and the archer comes almost as an afterthought.
“That was quite a demonstration,” Belreth's mate says later, after Kíli has cleaned up and is back in their booth again. The dwarf is lying on the cushions with his head on Smaug's thigh, one of the dragon's hands resting possessively on his shoulder, and he turns slightly to meet the young man's eyes.
“What does it feel like when your master shifts inside you?” the other pet continues, his voice just loud enough to carry from his place on the floor. He's kneeling by the minotaur as Kíli usually does with his master and since neither Smaug nor Belreth seem to mind this attempt at conversation, he answers honestly.
“It's the best thing that I've felt in all my life. It's ecstasy and sheer perfection which I could not hope to describe, but I think you probably know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do,” the man replies, looking up at the minotaur adoringly. Their masters are still ignoring their pets' discussion but Belreth's mate still leans forward somewhat furtively before continuing. “That other plug, the one you're wearing, do you know where I might find one? I need something that I can fight in and from what you were telling Azog, that one works just fine.”
“That it does,” Kíli replies with a chuckle. “But I made my plug myself so I doubt you'll find another like it anywhere.”
The man's eyes widen at the dwarf's answer, obviously impressed by Kíli's skill with metal and indeed, his next question is, “Could you make me one as well?”
“I... well sure, I suppose. We still have plenty of mithril and I've been looking for another project; I'd just need your master's measurements,” the archer says with a half-shrug, ever willing to do a favor for a friend. And if this man could be a friend then a bit of mithril would be a small price to pay, even if they were only thrown together through their shared circumstance.
For as much as Kíli loves Smaug – and he truly adores him – it would be nice to have someone else to talk to from time to time. Someone else with whom to trade tips on how to drive their masters crazy since a good pet knows exactly where the true power lies.
Five Years Later