Rating/Warnings: NC-17 for sure; fluff and courtship and ridiculousnessWord Count: 4434
Disclaimer: If I owned the Hobbit everyone would live.
Summary: As the youngest prince of Erebor, Kíli has always been able to have anyone he wanted. Until Bilbo Baggins walks into his life.
Kíli is used to getting what he wants. He's the youngest prince of Erebor; he's spoiled and he knows it and as far as he's concerned, that's the right way of the world. Why else would the Valar have given him such wicked dimples after all?
So the prince flirts with the various diplomats who arrive to meet his uncle; he tumbles any dwarrowlad, man, or elverel who takes his fancy and charms his way out of all the trouble that he finds. Sure Kíli will have to become more responsible eventually but the dwarf figures he has a few decades yet before he has to settle down.
Until then the archer sees no reason that he can't take his pleasures where he finds them and when he walks back into his chambers one fine spring morning to see a new servant dusting the mantelpiece, well, he knows exactly what he wants to do with an ass like that.
This hobbit is cute, firm and round in all the right places, and once he turns around, the dwarf is nearly blinded by the dimples in his cheeks. They're almost as adorable as Kíli's and if he were a different sort of prince, he'd pull this servant into his arms and kiss him breathless without even asking for a name. But the dwarf has never been one to take anything that isn't freely given and he's always enjoyed seducing his lovers almost as much as he likes the end result.
So the archer simply pins the hobbit with one of his most charming smiles – the one that says: hello, I think you're fascinating, but not the bedroom eyes just yet – and he watches with delight as a rosy flush blooms upon the other's cheeks.
“Prince Kíli!” the hobbit exclaims, quickly dropping to one knee. “I was supposed to finish before you returned. I apologize; I will leave right away.”
“You will do no such thing,” the dwarf replies, smiling again when the hobbit looks up in surprise – number two this time: princes are just normal folk, I swear. “It is hardly your fault that I returned early and I will not see you scolded just because I grew tired of Dwalin beating me. So please, finish your work.”
The hobbit still seems uncertain but he's too well-mannered to admit it, instead returning to his dusting like the archer asked. Though his hands stutter on the book shelves when Kíli starts undressing, the dwarf's dirty leathers set aside for cleaning as the hobbit watches him in shock.
“Prince Kíli!” he exclaims again, his tone completely scandalized. But for all his embarrassment, the hobbit's eyes are fixed on the prince's chest, his flush growing deeper when Kíli flexes his muscles just a bit.
Oh yeah, he's definitely interested, the dwarf thinks smugly. I think he'd pass out if I took my trousers off.
The hobbit looks close to fainting already so Kíli decides not to push his seduction any further this afternoon. Instead the prince just pulls on a new tunic and says, “Just call me Kíli, if you would. I've never been one to stand on ceremony like my mother thinks I should – all that bowing and scraping just feels ridiculous. Which reminds me, may I have your name as well?”
“It's Bilbo Baggins, my prin- sir- K- Kíli,” the hobbit stutters.
“Don't worry, we'll work on that,” the dwarf replies with smile number seven: I find you adorable.
“Bilbo Baggins,” Kíli continues, rolling the words on his tongue and deciding that he quite likes the sound. “I do believe that we'll be very good friends before I'm through with you.”
The prince purrs these words with just a hint of promise and then strides out of his chambers, leaving the hobbit to wonder exactly what he meant. Kíli has found that insinuations are often more effective than outright propositions, imagination filling in the spaces better than the dwarf can do with words. He's going to drive Bilbo mad with desire, tease him until he's begging for it, and only then will the archer claim his prize. It will be one of the sweetest victories that he's had for a while, the thought keeping a smile on the prince's face even through the long hours of his uncle's court.
“You look perky, brother,” Fíli says when Thorin has finally dismissed them, the older dwarf joining Kíli on his way out of the hall. “Did you find a replacement for your elf already? I assumed you'd be brokenhearted for at least another day or two considering how many hours you spent in his bed.”
“Don't be such a killjoy, Fíli,” the younger prince retorts. “Legolas and I were just a bit of passing fun and we both knew it. You may be deliriously happy with your fiancée but that doesn't mean true love's for everyone. I do my duty and I'm not making any bastards to muddy the succession so I figure I'm entitled to try a bit of everything.”
“A bit of everyone, you mean,” the other dwarf replies almost sharply before relenting with a sigh. “I just want you to be happy, little brother, and you know this fecklessness can't last.”
“Maybe not, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy the ride. Seriously, Fíli, I am very happy and I'll be even happier about a week from now.”
Kíli figures he shouldn't need more than a week to tumble Bilbo and yet, he still hasn't managed it when that time has come and gone. The hobbit may be an innocent but he's also a stubborn bastard, one with very strict ideas about propriety. Indeed, none of the prince's usual moves have worked as he expected – shirtlessness just leads to blushing, his skill at archery draws friendly admiration, and far too many invitations earn polite rebuffs.
Which is just ridiculous since the dwarf has made himself an expert on Bilbo Baggins – the things that make him laugh, the gifts that make him smile, and most importantly, the ones that make his eyes go dark with want.
If not for the last, Kíli might have given up on his seduction, but the archer knows that expression very well. The only people who don't find him attractive are the ones who prefer their lovers female and given the way that Bilbo looks at the prince when he's half-naked, a lack of desire is not the problem here.
The problem is that the hobbit refuses to admit it, rejecting the dwarf's overtures the same way he rejects his invitations and the more time they spend together, the more desperate Kíli gets. Because blushing and “I don't think that would be proper” gradually turns into smirking and “Sorry, I've got a better offer” and that's just not possible.
There is no better offer in Erebor – Kíli should know, he's fucked them all – and he's never had anyone resist him this persistently before. It's enough to make the archer wonder whether he misjudged the hobbit, though Bilbo still shows flashes of innocence when Kíli catches him off guard.
While the other has gotten used to shirtlessness, bare feet still make him stammer and he tends to lose his train of thought when the prince tucks his hair behind his ears. The dichotomy between artlessness and insolence is fascinating, fascinating and frustrating because Kíli hasn't bedded anyone since Bilbo caught his eye. The dwarf may have taken many partners but he's always faithful in the moment and finding someone else to ease his hunger would feel like giving up.
Kíli has never been one to back down from a challenge, though the way that his best lines make Bilbo giggle is somewhat discouraging. The prince makes more progress by speaking plainly, the hobbit's smirks melting into smiles when the dwarf shares his interests or stories of his life.
So the archer does. He carves out time for Bilbo in his schedule – that list of royal functions Dís keeps trying to make him memorize – and the two of them spend long afternoons together whenever the hobbit doesn't have to work. They talk about their lives and friends and families and when the prince looks up three weeks later, Bilbo has somehow become one of the best friends he's ever had.
Yet Kíli still wants more and the longer that the hobbit continues to reject him, the more obvious his ploys. He picks Bilbo flowers and asks the cooks to make all of the hobbit's favorites; he shows Bilbo the secret haunts of Erebor that only a true Durin's son would know. The ruby caves and the hidden moonstone gardens, the high aerie of the ravens and the hot springs that give the Lonely Mountain life. The dwarves of Erebor use these waters to power their devices and to heat their halls in winter – wood and fire far too inefficient for such a vast expanse.
Indeed, Erebor could not exist without these hot springs and yet the waters are actually most prized for bathing since, despite the lies that King Thranduil likes to spread about his allies, dwarves take great pride in cleanliness. An unkempt beard is a disgrace and even the poorest dwarrow wouldn't be caught dead with tangles in his hair.
Of course, such knots are much easier to brush out with assistance and this is Kíli's reasoning for why Bilbo simply must take a bath with him right now. The hobbit is much too nice to refuse such a plea from the archer, both of them sneaking glances as the other one strips down. Although Bilbo still refuses to remove his under tunic, he's showing far more skin than he ever has before and every pale inch just makes Kíli want him more.
The dwarf isn't the only one affected by the situation and he's certain that Bilbo is about to break when a group of miners suddenly walks in to wash after a long day digging gold. The other dwarrows tumble laughing into the next pool over even as the hobbit's social mask drops into place, Bilbo suddenly sitting several feet away from Kíli where he had been nearly on his lap before.
It's enough to make the archer scream since he's actually starting to run out of ideas and he's never had to work this hard at seducing anyone. All his previous lovers succumbed within a few weeks of flirting and the prince would never have guessed that a common hobbit from the Shire would be the one to break his streak.
But Bilbo has done exactly that and the dwarf finds himself completely out of patience a few days after the hot springs incident. The hobbit has just laughed off another proposition – Kíli's one last desperate try – and the prince can't hold back his irritation anymore, “Durin's fury, Bilbo! Will you ever sleep with me?”
“I don't know, Kíli. Why should I?”
“Because you're adorable, okay?! Because you're cute and funny and I want you and I think we'd be great together if you gave us half a chance,” the prince shouts, throwing his hands up in the air. “Because I know you want me too even if you won't admit it for some reason and I really, really, really want to kiss you all the time.”
“All right then. I've got a half day tomorrow if that works for you?”
“I... what?! Are you serious?!”
“Very. But I had to make sure that you were before I agreed. I don't do this sort of thing very often and I wanted to know if you'd lose interest when someone prettier walked by,” the hobbit explains with a half shrug, his expression somehow both vulnerable and defiant all at once.
“Prettier than you? Never,” the prince replies, his heart swelling with a vast fondness for this strange and prickly creature who has become such a large part of his life. “So tomorrow will be perfect; tomorrow I'm going to show you exactly why you should have said yes weeks ago. But first, if you have no objections, I'm gonna kiss you now.”
Kíli cups the hobbit's face in his hands, waiting a moment to see if Bilbo actually will protest before pressing their lips together in a gentle kiss. The dwarf means to keep it light and teasing, a promise of things to come, but that intention doesn't last for long.
It's Bilbo who yanks him closer, the hobbit's arms wrapping around Kíli's shoulders enthusiastically. His every little gasp and moan makes the prince's blood burn hotter and the edge of anticipation has him positively aching by the time they pull apart. Indeed, the sight of Bilbo's kiss-bruised smile threatens to overwhelm Kíli's self-control, the dwarf leaning in to steal one more quick peck before the hobbit nudges him away.
“Tomorrow,” Bilbo says firmly, though his tone of voice doesn't match the caress of his fingers across the archer's chest. In fact, the hobbit looks very tempted to claim another kiss himself before he finds that streak of stubbornness and steps back instead.
“Okay, seriously... tomorrow. I still have three suites to clean before dinner and I'd very much like to keep my place in Erebor.”
“Well... If you must go then I suppose I must let you,” Kíli replies reluctantly. “But I will miss you every moment that you're gone and I shall be looking forward to tomorrow most emphatically.”
The words are entirely sincere, though the dwarf says them in his most dramatic princely manner just to hear his hobbit giggle one more time. Then Kíli bids Bilbo a very fond farewell and leaves to find the Mirkwood delegation since a competitive round of archery seems like the perfect thing to make the hours fly. And if he grins a little wider than usual each time one of his arrows finds the bulls-eye, Kíli's never been one to kiss and tell.
The only person who hears about his bed partners is his brother and that's just because Fíli's disappointed frowns have always been hilarious. Kíli loves to watch the older prince try to keep a straight face whenever he's introduced to someone his younger brother's slept with, his polite smiles becoming rather fixed.
But today Fíli is busy helping Thorin be diplomatic and even if he weren't, this is one conquest that the archer would rather keep under wraps for now.
Twenty-four hours later, Kíli has worked himself into something of a frenzy while waiting for his hobbit to appear.
Come on, come on, come on... Why aren't you knocking already? the prince wonders, fighting the urge to bite his nails. Kíli doesn't think he'd be able to stand the disappointment if Bilbo backs out now. He needs to taste him; he needs to taste every inch of the hobbit who's been driving him insane for weeks now and wipe all other lover's from his mind.
Thankfully, the knock comes before Kíli can lose it completely, the dwarf pulling open his door to see Bilbo standing there. The hobbit is freshly scrubbed and clearly somewhat nervous but he's still the most attractive thing that the prince has seen in ages and he barely gets out his hello before Kíli is kissing him.
The dwarf pulls Bilbo inside and kicks the door shut behind them, their mouths moving together frantically. For the hobbit's reticence disappeared as soon as Kíli touched him, Bilbo threading his fingers through the archer's hair and pulling 'til he groans.
The prince responds with a press of teeth to Bilbo's bottom lip and when the hobbit melts against him, Kíli marks that reaction to explore later on. But for now the dwarf simply tangles their tongues together and walks the hobbit backwards toward the bed.
Their height difference makes this slightly awkward and after the third time that Bilbo stumbles, Kíli picks him up instead. He cups Bilbo's ass, those firm cheeks wonderfully pert beneath his hands as he lifts his new lover from the ground. The hobbit wraps his legs around the prince's waist without prompting, using the new position to grind their cocks together as he sucks open-mouthed kisses into Kíli's neck. Bilbo chuckles smugly when the archer moans and pulls him closer, that wicked little giggle making his cock twitch.
So the dwarf takes three large steps to reach his bed and then lays Bilbo down on the blankets, kissing him until he can't laugh for gasping Kíli's name. When he finally pulls back, the hobbit looks positively debauched – his lip red and swollen and his hair sticking out in all directions from the archer's roaming hands.
However, what makes Kíli decide that they're both wearing far too much clothing is the heat in Bilbo's gaze. So the prince slides his hands beneath the hobbit's tunic, pressing his lips to each bit of skin as it's revealed.
Kissing Bilbo's stomach makes him giggle while teasing his nipples makes him moan but it's only when Kíli works his lover's tunic over his head and then licks a long line up his ear that the hobbit loses it. Bilbo's back arches almost violently, fingers clutching at the archer's shoulders hard enough to bruise. So the dwarf does it again, delighting in the way that the hobbit shudders underneath his hands.
Then Kíli slips his fingers down beneath the waist of Bilbo's trousers and wraps them around his lover's length. The hobbit is proportional, his cock short but thick so that he fits comfortably within the prince's hand.
Indeed, it only takes a few strokes before his lover starts begging for him, every twist of the dwarf's wrist bringing him closer to the edge. Each moan and broken plea only makes Kíli harder, his own length aching for relief from the confines of his pants. But the archer ignores his desire to focus on Bilbo's pleasure, cataloging every shudder while his fingers dance along the hobbit's shaft.
The dwarf is lying on his side next to Bilbo, just this one point of contact between them as he watches his lover fall apart. Only when the hobbit has been reduced to utter incoherency does Kíli lean in to kiss him again, stroking his free hand through his lover's hair. The prince runs his thumb along the tip of Bilbo's ear, pressing harder each with motion until the hobbit throws back his head and releases with a shout.
“Vala's mercy,” Bilbo pants heavily after one long breathless moment, his eyes darkening when Kíli pulls away to lick his fingers clean. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“Of course not; you're much too cute for that,” the prince replies with a chuckle before stripping off his own tunic and tossing it aside. “Though I hoped you saved your energy this morning because we've barely gotten started yet.
“Is that so? Well, then I guess that means it's my turn,” his lover retorts, surging up to kiss Kíli one more time. While he's distracted – and Bilbo's mouth is very distracting – the hobbit wraps an arm around the archer's waist and shoves.
The dwarf tumbles down onto the bed and Bilbo follows, the hobbit looking down at him rather smugly from his new place on top. “I can't let you have all that fun now, can I?”
Then Bilbo hooks his fingers over the prince's trousers and pulls, Kíli groaning when his cock springs free. The pressure had been getting a little painful and the way that his lover's eyeing him now isn't helping the archer's self control.
“You don't have to...” Kíli feels obliged to protest when the hobbit starts to slide down his body, though the eye roll that he receives in reply makes him wish he'd kept his damn mouth shut instead.
“Of course I don't have to. I don't have to do anything, but this is something that I want.” Bilbo leans in and licks the head of the dwarf's cock, giving a little shrug at the taste before diving in again. Indeed, he ends the conversation quite effectively when he wraps his lips around Kíli's length, rational thought flying out the window at that soft wet heat.
The hobbit clearly isn't practiced at this – choking a bit when he tries to swallow the prince down too quickly – but his enthusiasm more than makes up for his inexperience. He laps at the dwarf's dick like he's been starving for it, his hands stroking everywhere that his mouth can't reach. Although Bilbo moves slowly at first, he picks up speed as he becomes more comfortable and the sight of spit-slick lips stretched around his cock is enough to make the archer swear.
“Fuck!” Kíli groans, letting his head fall back against the blankets. Hot and slick and filthy, his lover's mouth was made for this, little hums of pleasure spilling from his lips.
Each one is a spark of lightning through the prince's body, his world narrowing to the pleasure building in his gut. Then it's crashing over him, Kíli barely managing to choke out a warning before he spills in Bilbo's mouth.
When the dwarf opens his eyes – and honestly, he's not sure when he closed them – the hobbit is grinning down at him, tongue swiping at the remnants of Kíli's seed upon his lips. The prince's dick twitches when he realizes that Bilbo swallowed everything but he's not forty anymore and so it will take a few minutes before he's up to that again.
So Kíli leans forward to press their lips together, chasing the taste of his release on Bilbo's tongue. Then he rolls them over so that the hobbit is on his back, reaching his hand blindly toward the end table to grab the oil there. The prince may not be able to fuck his lover yet but he's a firm believer in thorough preparation and by the time Bilbo is begging for him, Kíli should be ready to oblige.
“I want to make you come apart,” the archer murmurs against his lover's stomach before tugging the hobbit's trousers down. “I want to make you forget everything but the feel of my cock inside you and my hands upon your skin.”
“Seriously, you are a gorgeous wonder,” he murmurs once Bilbo is finally naked, watching with amusement as a flush blooms across the hobbit's cheeks.
“Really, darling? You can suck my cock without flinching but are embarrassed by an honest compliment? If that's the case, I'm afraid you're going to be blushing constantly because I think you're beautiful. Your lips were made for kissing and your smile drives me crazy. All I want to do is make you moan with pleasure; I want to make you beg and scream my name. I want to feel your nails dig into my shoulders when I push inside you, press you open inch by inch, and I really, really want to know just how far this flush will spread.”
It's halfway down Bilbo's chest already, the hobbit's blush deepening with Kíli's every word. Though maybe it's not the words so much as the way Kíli is still kissing his way across his lover's body, looking up at him through lashes that have brought strong men to their knees.
Indeed, the hobbit his staring back at him with a naked hunger that the dwarf finds quite gratifying, Bilbo's cock already hard again. However, Kíli still needs a bit more time to recover and his true prize is further down. So he hooks a hand under each of the hobbit's legs, bending Bilbo's knees so that his feet are planted on the bed and his ass is in the air. The prince takes a moment to breathe in the scent of his lover, the sharp lavender of his soap intermingling with the musk of his desire and the heady aroma of sweat and cinnamon.
“Did you think of me when you were bathing earlier? Did you run your hands across your body and wonder how mine would feel instead.”
The only answer is a broken moan as Kíli presses his tongue against the soft bud of the hobbit's entrance, the muscle fluttering beneath his mouth. He licks into Bilbo slowly, tracing the rim of his hole until it's dripping and then pushing inside. His lover is achingly tight, Kíli's cock throbbing in sympathy when the hobbit clenches on his tongue.
But for some things the prince can be patient and he's patient now. He works Bilbo open with his mouth, spreading the hobbit's ass cheeks apart with his hands so that he can shove in deep. Every stroke makes his lover tremble, Bilbo pushing back into the archer's touch.
Only once his lover is moaning freely above him does Kíli open the flask of oil sitting at his side. The dwarf teases one slick finger across Bilbo's entrance before pressing forward, his tongue lapping stray drops of oil from the hobbit's skin.
“Kíli, please,” Bilbo begs when the prince begins to thrust his finger in and out of his lover, each stroke making his cock twitch where it stands. They're both hard now, hard and desperate, and it would be so easy to mount the hobbit now. He could thrust into that willing heat, force Bilbo open until neither of them remembers their own name. But the dwarf doesn't know whether his new lover enjoys a touch of pain within his pleasure and this is not the time to ask, not when he could make the hobbit agree to anything.
So the archer tells his cock to wait as he pushes another finger into Bilbo, spreading them gently until the hobbit finally begins to relax around his hand. With each thrust, Kíli pushes in a little deeper, searching for the spot that will make his lover scream.
Admittedly the prince has never lain with a hobbit before but some things have proven remarkably similar across his varied bed partners and if Kíli ever gets the chance to fuck a Vala, he's pretty sure of what he'll find. Indeed, the dwarf knows that he's found that spot in Bilbo when his lover suddenly arches off the bed with a cry. He snaps his hips back, fucking himself on Kíli's fingers until the archer pulls his hand away.
Bilbo whines then, a wordless cry of need and desire that makes the dwarf's cock jump desperately. But he's only reaching for more oil, Kíli thrusting three fingers into the hobbit's ass this time. His lover moans then, a sound that the prince truly feels like echoing. Because the clench of Bilbo's entrance on his hand is obscene, tight and hot and sinful and the dwarf won't be able to resist much longer if the hobbit keeps begging him like that.
Kíli leans down to lick the rim of his lover's hole where it's stretched around his fingers, teasing that taut muscle even as he pushes in as deep as he can go. The prince grinds his hand into Bilbo's pleasure until the hobbit begins to shake beneath him and Kíli can't hold back anymore.
It's the expression on Bilbo's face that breaks him, such joyous abandon a rare sight amongst the courtiers of Erebor. So the dwarf pulls his fingers free and moves over his lover, cock sliding along the crack of Bilbo's ass. Then Kíli thrusts forward, one long slow glide until he's buried to the hilt, and the dwarf has to take a moment just to breathe.
It's pause or come too early, though he would have stopped anyway for the hobbit's sake. The archer would never wish to hurt his lover through impatience; even if Kíli didn't have a reputation to uphold, Bilbo deserves all the sweetness in the world.
“Kíli, please. I want to feel you,” his lover groans, hooking his legs around the prince's waist. “I want you to give me everything I've only dreamed about.”
And what can the dwarf do but comply when Bilbo begs so prettily?
The archer rolls his hips forward, his lover's body loosening with every thrust. Soon he's moving smoothly, pulling nearly all the way out and then slamming back inside. Each stroke shoves Bilbo a little further up the bed, the hobbit nearly to the wall before Kíli braces them. The prince wraps one hand around the headboard and the other around Bilbo's shoulder, this new leverage allowing him to fuck his lover even deeper than he was before.
The hobbit is babbling now, a mix of moans and broken phrases groaned in Kíli's ear while his hands roam wildly. Bilbo clutches at the archer's back, ankles tightening around his waist as he murmurs filthy endearments into his lover's shoulder, his words punctuated by the slap of skin on skin.
With each thrust, Kíli's pleasure coils tighter until the heat of Bilbo's ass around his cock is the only thing that's real. There's only this, only their bodies moving together in sweat slick skin and gasping breaths, desperate moans stolen from the hobbit's lips. Bilbo is pushing into Kíli's strokes, his rhythm stuttering whenever the prince finds that magic place inside of him. The dwarf is close now but he refuses to find release before his hobbit so he takes hold of Bilbo's cock and strokes him roughly 'til he falls.
“Kíli!” his lover screams, his entire body snapping taut around the archer's length. He comes hard, the prince managing two more thrusts before he follows his hobbit into bliss.
The dwarf collapses onto Bilbo, their panting breaths the only sounds within the room. But Kíli can't stay like this forever when he's probably crushing Bilbo, the prince eventually recovering enough to move again.
He slides an arm beneath his lover and rolls them over so that the hobbit is cradled back against his chest. Bilbo groans when the prince's cock slips out of him, the other's body well and truly spent. But once Kíli stops moving, his lover curls into him quite happily, tucking his head underneath the archer's chin.
“So, was that the best you've ever had or just top five?” the dwarf asks, the arrogance of his words belied by the gentleness of his fingers as they cradle Bilbo's head. Indeed, Kíli wants to be the best – if not now then later on.
The prince wants time with Bilbo and that thought is almost terrifying when he has always flitted between his lovers easily. But while the hobbit is many things, scary is not one of them, and the dwarf has never been one for deeply introspective thoughts. He will want Bilbo for as long as he wants him and if this turns out to be a lifetime, Kíli can live with that as long as his lover feels the same.
Indeed, his tiny seed of doubt disappears when Bilbo smiles at him, the hobbit meeting the archer's eyes and murmuring, “That was definitely top three. And when my heart stops pounding, we can try for best again.”
“I like the way you think,” Kíli replies with a chuckle, cheered by Bilbo's assumption that they'll be doing this again. Indeed, the prince foresees a long and fulfilling relationship in their future, one filled with snark and sarcasm and the most epic sex. There will be jokes and blushing and a whole lot of orgasms and Kíli can hardly ask for more than that. So he settles his new lover more comfortably against his chest and closes his eyes, the dwarf needing to rest up before round two begins.