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[misadventuresunderthemountain]

Siren Song (Thorin/Dis)

A while back we'd come up with an idea for a fic with some of the Durins as sirens (i.e., Dis and Thorin's grandmother, Sigdis, Kili, and Dis herself). This is the first fic in our siren verse--later installments will also include both Fili/siren!Kili, and an alternate version with fem!Fili/fem!siren!Kili.

It was late when Dis climbed out her bedroom window, gripping the wooden pole tightly where she had carved in small hand and footholds. The support beams held their house up where it was built on the hills near the shore, giving Dis an easy path when she was back on solid ground. It would have been simpler to take the steps downwards, but the wood creaked and someone would hear.

Once she made it to the ground, Dis took off running, wearing only her shift and a light robe. The summer night was warm enough that she let the robe fall away from her arms and shoulders when she neared the water's edge and approached the dock. She loved it here; she loved the way they lived between the land and sea, as though they were caught between and could not bear to live only in one or the other.

Dis felt this way much of the time herself.

Dis stood at the very edge and took a deep breath before she dived into the water. Being in the sea was as natural as breathing to her. She thought she might truly die of heartbreak if she were away from it for too long. At least once a day, or maybe more, Dis could be found swimming in these very waters, never leaving unless she absolutely had to do so.

A little ways away was a small group of large, smooth, flat rocks. She wasn't supposed to be out here, especially at night, but Dis and her brothers had lived by the ocean their entire lives, and could swim like fish even as very small children. Dis knew that she was safe; after all, she could still see the pier just fine as she pulled herself up onto the rocks, her shift sticking to her skin. Dis only laughed and lay back, the stone ever-so-slightly warm from the sun even now.

Thorin heard the floorboards in Dis' room creak, the sound pulling him from a light doze that he hadn't meant to be in in the first place. Dis sneaked out most nights, now, and Thorin followed, just to be sure she was safe. Oh, they knew the waters here like the backs of their hands, and Thorin didn't doubt that, were she struck blind tomorrow, Dis could find her way here even better than he, but he worried regardless.

He slid out of bed, not bothering to be particularly quiet. In the bed on the other side of the room, Frerin slept like the dead. Thorin might think him so, if it weren't for his breathing. He knew which steps to avoid when he left the house, which boards creak the loudest, and which could be masked as nothing but the usual creaking and groaning of their aging home. The only other light sleeper here was Sigdis, and she was no stranger to sneaking from the house in the dead of night, either. Not that Thorin would ever mention to her that he knew of her own nighttime wanderings; he loved his grandmother, but she was a strange, stern, and occasionally frightening woman.

He hadn't bothered to put boots--or a coat--on, and the damp sand felt good between his toes as he headed for the pier. He could already see Dis, standing out bright against the rocks where the moon shone off her clothes, and her pale skin, and seemed to give her hair something of a blue sheen. She was beautiful like this, and Thorin could hear the melodic sound of her laughter. It brought a smile to his own lips as he stopped simply to watch her. She was always happiest out here by the sea or in water itself, and it gave him joy to see her so.

Dis stared up into the night sky with her arms stretched out to either side of her. It was a still night with a nearly full moon that hung low in the sky, its a silvery reflection shining along the surface of the water. She moved back towards the edge of the rock, leaning her head back and letting her long dark hair fall over the side for only a moment before she sat up, her laugh echoing back from the hills.

A strange desire grew within her, and it seemed to Dis that the urge to sing sank deep into her bones. It spread through her entire body until it became impossible to resist. Her laughter died away, a silence settling over the shore all the way to the hills, out across the sea, and she began to sing.

"What happened to the fisherman's dream When they rowed their last boat down What happened to the dream of the fisherman When they cast their last net round What happened to the fisherman's love When it drove him over the hill What happened to the fisherman's dream Is the fisherman dreaming still?"

The words seemed to pull themselves from her throat as though she was only a means for their escape. A shudder ran down her spine and the words of the song fell from her lips.

"Tell me did it fade away Did it fade on down to the ocean Did it fade away Did it fade on down to the sea To the ocean and the sea?"

Thorin listened to the lulling sound of the waves lapping at the shore as he watched Dis, letting the constant, rhythmic noise drown out anything else... Until Dis began to sing, and in an instant it was as if everything else but her ceased to exist. The sound of her voice filled his ears, echoed in his head, and he could look at nothing but her. She seemed to shine in the moonlight--a truly beautiful sight--and oh, how he'd tried for so long not to look at her in ways a brother should never look at his younger sister. He'd tried not to see her in such a light, but now it was like someone forced his eyes open so he had no choice but to look while Dis' voice seemed to beckon him forward. He could almost feel it wrapping around him in tendrils and tugging him forward.

He took one step.

And another.

Every step that brought him closer to Dis made that pull ever stronger, and Thorin was only too happy to oblige it. He needed to get to her, needed to be closer, had to hear her sing in that sweet voice to him, and for a moment he wanted to discover whether he could taste the saltwater on her lips...

It was the last thing he thought before one final step found him with no pier beneath his foot, and he plunged into the water; and yet still no thought but Dis and the sound of her voice would come to him, not even how to swim or the fact that he might well drown.

Dis heard the loud splash by the pier and stopped singing immediately, whipping her head around. Somehow she could see a dark figure in the water--before she could think twice, Dis jumped into the water and swam as fast as she could toward the dock.

It took almost no time at all for her to reach the pier; it was a person, as she thought, and Dis grabbed their arm to start towing them to shore. What in the world are they doing out here this late at night? she wondered, but there was no time to think long on it. Dis concentrated all of her energy on getting them into the shallows and dragged them up onto land. It was a good thing she was such a strong swimmer, lest they might never have made it.

When she turned him over onto his back, though, Dis let out a gasp of surprise. "Thorin!" What was he doing here? And what could have possibly happened to him that he'd been unable to swim? They had all three of them--Thorin, Frerin, and Dis herself--been swimming since they could toddle along after their parents down to the water. "Thorin, are you all right?" She lifted him up gently, just a little, to check for any possible injuries or wounds on the back of his head.

Thorin choked and coughed, spitting up the water he'd inhaled. He gasped for breath and his head was pounding, but at least it was clear now, and he wondered what had possessed him to-

Dis was above him, looking down at him with clear worry, and for a moment the sight of her took Thorin's breath away as surely as the water had done. He glanced down to try to stop that notion--this was more of a mistake than continuing to gaze up at her face, for her thin shift was soaked, making the material easily seen through, and it clung to every inch of her. Every entrancing inch...

A hot flush spread over his skin as he suffered another coughing fit, though he managed to choke out, "I'm fine. I--I'm fine, Dis." He felt he ought to roll away from her before she could move any closer, yet he let her lift him up and check the back of his head. He tried to look anywhere but the hollow of her throat. "I said I'm fine, sister." Save that he was not; he had, for a moment, forgotten how to swim, had lost all awareness of anything but Dis, and her voice...

"Thorin, for the love of the sea and stars, what happened to you?" she asked as she smoothed his hair away from his face. Thorin sat up hurriedly and Dis fell back with surprise. "And what were you doing out here?" Thorin, strangely enough, refused to look at her. Then Dis glanced down at herself and flushed when she realized the state of her dress. "I'll... I'll be back in a moment." Then she got to her feet and rushed to fetch her robe.

Thorin still didn't want to look at Dis when she returned, and he found himself focusing on a crab that scuttled by instead. Yet his gaze kept being drawn back toward his sister. "I came to be sure you were safe," he said. A foolish notion now, it seemed, when she had saved him from drowning. "I--...don't know what happened." How could he say that he'd been so entranced by her voice that he hadn't noticed where his feet were carrying him, nor had he been able to make himself swim?

"I was listening to you and...I recalled the pier being longer than it is." He looked at her again, at the drops of water clinging to her eyelashes and beading on her lips, and he wanted to kiss them away. The thought only made his skin grow even warmer, though by now he knew better than to try and tell himself it was nothing. He'd acknowledged those feelings some time ago; he only needed be sure that he never gave himself away. "You've...never sung out there before-" Oh, you great fool, he thought, cutting off his own words.

Dis knelt next to him. "You've...followed me before?" she said, wondering how he'd kept himself unseen. Likely he'd hidden by the low cliff by the dock that cast a perpetual shadow across part of the shore. He looked away, but she only drew him back with a hand on his cheek. "Thorin..." 'I came to be sure you were safe.' "You didn't have to do that. We know this place better than anyone else ever could. What trouble did you think I could run into out here?"

Thorin couldn't look away, now. "The sea is nearly as dangerous and unpredictable as you," he said, eyes following a bead of water that ran down her cheek. "You never know when something might go wrong." Really, he knew there had never been any reason to worry. Dis could take care of herself, and she could read the water as well or better than any seasoned sailor.

But he had wanted to see her, regardless, out on the rocks, laughing and basking in the light of the moon, as if she belonged there, as though there were no where else she would rather be. And to hear her sing...her voice. A shudder ran up Thorin's spine just to think of it, and before he could stop himself, he pushed himself forward to kiss the quickly drying water from her lips.

Startled, Dis leaned forward and braced her hand on Thorin's knee when he kissed her. She had--thought about this before, this more-than-sisterly feeling crawling around in the back of her mind, but never had she dreamed that Thorin might feel the same way...

The taste of sea and salt still lingered on his lips and Dis licked it away with her tongue, her free hand cupping the back of his head. She wanted to push more and strangely enough, she wanted to sing... "Thorin," Dis murmured against his mouth. "What..."

Thorin avoided answering Dis' question by meeting her tongue with his own, hand at the back of her neck to keep her where she was. The touch of her was as intoxicating as her voice, perhaps more so, and Thorin wanted all of it, wants to completely give himself over to this fierce need that seemed to become so much more unbearable in an instant-

The cold press of her chest against his--her robe had fallen open and the sodden fabric of his shirt and her shift provided hardly any barrier between their flesh--was what brought him back to himself, and he pulled away abruptly, stumbling over the beginnings of apologies. But none of it would come out, and he could only stare at Dis--who was wide-eyed and breathing hard from shock--and wonder why she had not turned tail and run already.

"Dis, I--I'm-"

What explanation or apology could he offer for such a thing? He was never supposed to give himself away, never outwardly acknowledge these...these feelings for her, not ever.

"...We should go back. Before we're missed." Perhaps they could forget this ever happened.

[misadventuresunderthemountain]

Back again-- things have been pretty hectic so we haven't had time to do a lot of housekeeping with fic/RPs over here. We definitely plan to change that, though! Expect to see more over here relatively soon.

[misadventuresunderthemountain]

Updates!

Sorry we haven't had as much on here as usual--we've been posting directly to ao3 or our personal blogs most of the time. BUT we'll probably be putting up some of our "non-ao3" stuff here in the near future :)

[misadventuresunderthemountain]

Dis/Thorin, post-Battle of Azanulbizar

Dís gently places Fíli in his cradle, and he sighs a little as he rolls onto his side, fast asleep. He'd taken much longer than usual to soothe this evening--he was a well-tempered babe, which Dís found a relief. She's not sure she could handle a more troublesome child, not by herself, at least.

Outside the door she hears raised voices, the sound of a commotion, the rumbling of...the war drums. She jumps to her feet and dashes through the entryway but doesn't leave, since she has Fíli to mind. The neighbor girl, Freya, peers out from her doorway as well, though her petrified expression makes Dís' curiosity unbearable.

"Freya, what's happening?" she calls, and Freya looks sharply in her direction.

"They're back--the war party from Moria has returned, I think," Freya replies. "I..."

Dís can see her hesitation. Freya's father and eldest brother are both part of the army, and though she clearly wants to see to them, the girl is young, barely thirty-five. She doesn't want to leave her two younger brothers alone, since her mother is long dead.

"Freya," she says, "would you mind looking after Fíli for a little while? I want to find my brothers and father, and I can look for yours while I'm there."

"Would you?" says Freya, eyes lighting up in relief. "Please, milady, I would be ever so grateful to you. And of course I'll watch the little one."

Dís smiles at her--she's the one who is grateful. She didn't want to leave her son, but the need to see the rest of her family safe and sound is too strong.

Rushing inside, she carefully lifts Fíli from his cradle and brings him to Freya, who takes the child into her arms. Fíli doesn't wake, merely yawns and turns his head toward Freya.

"I'll keep him for the evening, if you like," Freya offers. "My family, I'm sure they won't mind. My brothers will be too exhausted to be much trouble."

"I couldn't possibly," Dís starts--what about Freya's father, and her elder brother?--but Freya shakes her head.

"Go on ahead, milady. He'll be all right with me."

Dís hesitates a moment, then puts an arm around Freya's small shoulders and gives her a small embrace. "Thank you." With that, Dís hurries toward the main gate of their stronghold. They haven't been here very long, but it's good to be in the mountains again. Too long in the open skies and air had made her far too restless and uneasy.

As she nears the crowd milling about near the gate, her broad smile and the excitement in her chest slowly melt away. So many of the womenfolk are weeping, or worse, standing still and doing nothing at all. There are so few of them, the scattered remnants of their once-mighty army of Erebor, and they all of them are far worse for wear. Armor is rent, shields broken, swords notched and bent, and the looks in their eyes is haunted. Ghost-like.

Fear rises in her, then, and grips her heart with its frozen claws.

---

Thorin still hears the clash of blades ringing in his ears, the screams of the dying-- both friend and foe-- still echo in his head as if phantoms have followed him from the battlefield to plague him further. One voice rings out louder than the others sometimes... A triumphant yell that turns into a strangled cry-- But he mustn't dwell on that one, not now. He mustn't dwell on any of them.

Around him, those that have returned are seeking out their families, while the families of those who were slain search desperately through the crowd, as if hoping more men are going to appear. Thorin wishes it were so. They are all that's left. 

Thorin thinks Dís will surely be home... She will have the little one to look after, now... Any joy that thought may give him is lost as heart sinks when he thinks of what he will have to tell her, of all they have lost.

But there she is, standing on the outskirts of the crowd, watching the reunions and the realizations of those whose loved ones have not returned. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, the voices that haunt him quiet as he simply takes in the sight of his sister, beautiful even when she looks so worried, though he would give anything to never see her like that again. 

He doesn't want to tell her... and he finds that suddenly his feet will no longer move.

"Dís," he says, quietly at first. Then, louder. "Dís!"

-- She hears her name being called across the hall, and she sees Thorin standing there, alive and well. The flood of relief she feels at the sight of him is overwhelming, and Dís gathers her skirts in hand and runs toward him, throwing her arms around his neck. Tears spill freely from her eyes but she doesn't care. She buries her face into the crook of his neck and the vice-like grip around her heart seems to release, and she can breathe again.

"I'm so glad you're all right," she says, when she finally pulls away. She wipes her eyes hurriedly so as not to appear so foolish. "I...I was so worried for you, all of you." Then, as though it suddenly hits her, she says, "Where's Frerin? And Father? Grandfather?" Perhaps they're elsewhere in the throng of reuniting families, but why they would be anywhere but with Thorin, she's not quite sure.

Thorin holds on to her as if he means never to let her go, burying his face in her hair, and breathing deep. There had been far too many times when he thought he would never see her again, never hear her voice, never feel her... 

He does let go, though he would like nothing more than to stay like that, to avoid breaking her heart for just a little while longer.

"They--" his throat tightens as he tries to speak. He closes his eyes for a moment, and sees a prideful smirk suddenly twist into a look of shock, and pain... "They fell," he finally says, hardly above a whisper. It takes a long, long moment for his words to sink in. Dís feels her knees go weak, and she clutches at Thorin's sleeves to keep herself standing.

"A-all of them?" she says, her voice breaking. This can't be, has to be some sort of terrible nightmare, and Dís wants nothing more than to wake up to the sound of Frerin's boisterous laughter, to Thorin's exasperated smile at their brother's antics.

She wants to cling to him, then, but knows she cannot, at least not now. A princess must keep her calm and dignity, though she can honestly say that at this moment they're the furthest things from her mind. Her head pounds and she feels the cold creeping up from her fingertips, her toes, up through her entire body, like she'll never feel warm again. Suddenly the sounds of the crowd, the mourning and the joy all at once, is far too much for her. She wants to go home. Thorin holds her up, and he wishes he could give her better news... Wishes he had not seen Frerin cut down, even as he laughed one last time, wishes he had not watched, helpless to do anything about it as Thror's head had been held up as a trophy. Wishes he could say with any surety what had become of their father.

"Let's go home," he mutters to Dís, guiding her away from the crowd. They both need to be away from everyone else. They both need time to grieve in private. And they both need time to simply be with each other. They're all either of them has left. Dís nods and lets herself be led back home, barely paying attention to where she's going as she walks. It's only because of Thorin that she doesn't run into anything, for surely she wouldn't have made it back on her own. She's lost in her own thoughts--thoughts that mostly center around her dear, lost brother. Though she loved her father and grandfather, they were little better than strangers more often than not, while Frerin and Thorin had been constant presences in her life since she could ever remember. Frerin's laughter echoes in her mind and she cannot bear thinking that she'll never hear it again.

--

It's empty and cold when they walk through the door, silent as a tomb. Fitting, really, Dís thinks without humor. Thorin falls to one of the larger armchairs in the main sitting room, and she follows suit, curling against him like she used to when they were small. Aside from her son, she and Thorin are all that's left of their line now. She sits there for such a long time--whether hours or merely minutes, she cannot tell--but finally glances up at Thorin, worry setting in at the expression on his face, the lifeless look in his eyes. "Thorin?" Thorin is lost in thoughts, memories of the battle that had taken Frerin, and Thror... He and Dís had lost so much, for nothing. So many of their people, gone. "We should never have gone," he says, more to himself than Dís. At least he should have convinced Thrain to leave Frerin behind with Dís. Frerin, who had always been into trouble, who had known exactly how to brighten his siblings' moods when they needed it, who never seemed to stop smiling...

Dís and Frerin had been Thorin's entire world, and now half of that was gone.

"I promised you I would bring him back, and I failed." "You cannot blame yourself," she tells him, sitting up enough that she can look him in the eye. "I know that you would take on the guilt for having 'allowed' him to go, but his mind was as stubborn as yours, and he would never have been content to remain behind." If Dís herself had not been with child, she would have found a way to come with them as well, though she wonders if she, too, would have been slain along with so many of her kin.

She reaches up to brush her thumb across the now-healing wound across his cheek. "I'm thankful that Mahal saw fit to spare at least one of you," she says. Dís wasn't quite sure what she would have done if Thorin had perished with the rest of them. "I was supposed to protect him," says Thorin. He cannot stop the guilt any more than he could not feel grief for the loss. Frerin had always been his responsibility, and he had failed to keep him safe. 

He meets Dís' gaze, finally. The thought of her had given him the strength to push on, after the battle. The sound of her laugh, the light in her eyes when she was up to no good... Even her off-key humming as she worked, that Frerin had always complained about.  "And I am thankful you did not come with us," he says, voice thick. "I could not have lost you, too." "You haven't lost me," Dís says gently. "I'm right here and I promise, I'm not leaving you. Not now." Never before has she been as aware of him as she is now, the heat of his skin beneath her fingertips, his bright eyes dulled by grief, the wounds written clear on not only his flesh, but on his heart. Many seem to think her brother to be made of stone, but Dís knows him better. "We still have one another, and I..." she trails off, words catching in her throat on a sob. If she had lost Thorin--

She feels something tug and pull and twist at her insides as she looks at him, a strange sensation that she's known before but never so strong as it is now. It wars with the grief in her heart, both fighting for dominance inside of her until neither can be considered the victor. Her fingers still rest against Thorin's cheek, and she doesn't want to pull away. Thorin closes his eyes for a moment, Dís' fingertips on his skin a comforting and much needed sensation. It's proof that she is there, and he isn't going to wake up still on the road, or worse, still in the middle of a war, without her. He cannot be without her, now, not now that he's lost everything, everyone else.

He reaches up and runs his hand through her hair, and he could excuse it, say he meant to brush it away from her face, but in truth he simply needs the touch. The softness on his fingers bringing back memories of happier times, evenings spent braiding her hair while Frerin spun fantastic tales to make them both laugh... Dís leans forward to rest her forehead against his, taking in a deep breath to steady herself. She's afraid to do much else, for fear that she'll shatter the small amount of calm that they've managed to build between them. But suddenly she realizes that he hasn't even removed his armor and chainmail. How she hadn't thought to give him a moment to do even that...

"You're still..." she trails off. "You ought to take off your jerkin and mail, brother. I'm sorry, I didn't even think--" Thorin himself had not even realized he was still in his mail. He feels as though he's in a haze. He gets to his feet, when Dís moves away, and is distantly aware of the fact that he had spent so little time here before leaving that he can't recall where anything is, much less the room that had been his.

But he is far too weary to care, and he simply goes about the task of removing his armor beside the hearth. It will all need cleaned and repaired, but he doesn't have the strength for that tonight. The shirt underneath it all should probably simply be thrown out, stained and frayed as it is.

He has his boots off when he realizes he has not heard a sound other than the fire, and Dís' voice since they had come in, and he is struck by the absence of a child. He had thought Dís would have stayed home, to look after the little one, but she had been among the others...

"Your child?" he asks, almost hesitantly, as if afraid to know the answer... If something had gone wrong... If Dís had lost the infant, only to have Thorin return and tell her of Frerin, Thrain, and Thror.... "Fili is staying with Freya," Dís explains hastily, once she realizes what Thorin seems to believe. "She and her family have rooms next to mine. He's...very well. A sweet child." She smiles. "With golden hair, even. You'll certainly meet him in the morning, after I fetch him."

She goes into the other room to bring a fresh tunic for him. "Here," Dís says, handing it to him. In the firelight, she can see the dark smudges of sleeplessness under his eyes, and he looks so tired and worn down.

When they'd lost Erebor to the dragon, Dís feared that she might never see her brother smile again. But in the past years she and Frerin had managed to coax some of the life back into him. Now, though, Dís worries that Thorin may never regain it again.

Sitting next to him, she takes his hands in her own. She doesn't speak, simply brushes her thumbs over his knuckles, which are covered with cuts and bruises from the battle. Thorin feels no small amount of relief at hearing the child-- Fíli... he has a nephew-- is well. At least there is some good news to be had tonight. He takes the tunic she offers, but makes no move to stand and change, not yet, at any rate.

He hardly notices the cuts on his hands anymore, even when Dís' fingers run over them. He thinks he might have simply gone numb at some point. He almost wishes the pain of losing so much of his family had simply stopped as well, but knows it's a foolish thing to want. It would be a relief, though, to not feel the ache that comes with every thought of his brother, or the guilt of not having been able to protect him...

To not feel the dark stirrings in the back of his mind at Dis' touch.

He pulls away, eventually, though not abruptly, and stands. His back to his sister, he drags the sad remains of his tunic over his head, and pulls the fresh one on. The clean fabric feels good against his skin, though it seems a shame to sully it with the grime that still clings to him. He'll need a bath, at some point. Though he doesn't think he'll ever feel clean... She knows better than to ask if he's all right. Neither of them are, nor have they been since they lost their home. Even less so now that they've lost their family, as well. Dís stands but doesn't move, hesitant to reach out the way her instincts tell her to do. The ache in her heart makes her want to pull Thorin close and be the one to shield him, as he's always done for her.

The feel of his hands against hers, of his warmth bleeding into her cool skin, echoes through her hands and makes them hum with the memory of it. Dís wonders how she could be thinking such things, now of all times, with their grief still so fresh and hurting.

But she needs to do something. She needs to break away from the pain and the heartache that it causes her. So she reaches out. She puts a gentle hand on his shoulder, not enough to startle him, only to make him aware of her presence. The twisting in her stomach grows stronger and Dís doesn't even try to push it away this time. Thorin turns to face Dís again, and standing so close to her... For so long he'd wanted nothing more than to be back at her side... He'd thought it innocent enough at first, simply missing the baby sister who had rarely been away from him since she was old enough to start trailing after him.

He wishes that were the case, and yet, at the same time, he doesn't. Because amidst the pain, and the bone-deep exhaustion, Dís is a bright spot. Having her close, close enough to touch, and the elation from it is the only reprieve he has had from the voices and the memories...

They're both tired, and grief is making him entertain thoughts he would normally shove away. He should bid her goodnight, and sleep until his mind is clear, and his emotions are not quite so mixed up.

Yet he stays where he is, and against all better judgement, he reaches out and takes her face in his hands, thumbs brushing over her cheeks where tears have dried and left trails down her skin. Dís closes her eyes and leans into his touch, her hands coming up to rest on his forearms, but she doesn't push him away. She doesn't know how but suddenly the pull and twist and all of it makes some strange sort of sense, though words fail her when she tries to think of it more.

Tears threaten to spill once more but she fights them back. When she opens her eyes again she sees Thorin looking at her in that way he has, where he can steal her breath and any words she might have been ready to speak.

She's almost afraid to move closer, afraid that something might shatter and break them away; but she chances a single step that brings her almost too close. Her breath sounds impossibly loud and quick in her ears and her cheeks burn with heat. Every part of her feels on fire, especially where his skin presses against her own.

There's hardly any distance between them now. Dís' forehead rests against Thorin's own, not daring for more. The sensation, that unsisterly desire that pounds in her head like hammers in the forge. But she can't, won't reach for the one thing that could silence it. Thorin leans down, rests his forehead against Dís', closing his eyes and breathing deeply, trying to calm the pounding of his heart. She is everything he'd missed while he was away, everything he's longed for, and the thought should make him sick, and it has before, but now he is simply too tired, and Dís is his only relief. 

It shouldn't be this way, his breath shouldn't quicken at her touch, he shouldn't long to feel more of her skin under his hands.

But right now she is all he has left, and he wants at least this, to just be close. He would never dare push for anything more. He would not have her bear that knowledge, that somewhere along the way, brotherly affection had become twisted, and wrong. He won't do that to her. Dís' heart is hammering in her chest and they're close, far too close but they might as well be miles from one another. She can very nearly taste him against her lips, and there's a moment of agonizing indecision before she leans forward to close the distance between them, pressing her lips to his own.

Everything seems to click into place then; she tangles her fingers into his hair and pulls him close, as close as she can. His lips mould to hers and though they're not as soft as her own, he's warm against her and she pushes forward, seeking more.

A part of her is saying, 'don't do this, it's wrong, he's your brother,' but she's been wanting this for longer than she's even known, and she wants to give him everything. Wants to help him heal, as much as she can, and lessen the guilt of being alive, of not being able to save their kin. And comfort, too--Dís can try to give him that, at least. Thorin's mind screams at him to stop this, to pull away, say goodnight and pray he'll wake up in the morning and this will all have been a dream, and that this feeling will be gone, or at least manageable. 

His hands have other ideas, and without meaning to, he pulls her flush against him, arms tight around her.

He wants to push her away and pull her closer still, wants to tell her they can't, and ask her to never stop. Mahal curse him, this is the closest he has felt to happy since he left her, and it's wrong, and he can't help but wonder if Dís somehow found out... somehow knew, and the thought that she is only doing this out of some desire to comfort him... It turns his stomach more than his own twisted feelings do. She can't feel the same as he-- how could she?

"Dís," he murmurs, turning his head to break the kiss, but he doesn't step away, or release his hold on her. "I-- You don't have to--" "You think I would offer," she says, her voice low, "if I did not wish for it? Thorin...I want this. I..." Dís looks at him, hoping that he doesn't push her away. She places a hand on his cheek again. "I know what you would say, but..."

Her heart feels torn in two; she knows that she can't deny her feelings anymore, nor hide them at least from him. But she knows that she would walk away and never speak of it again if Thorin asked it of her. She searches his gaze, trying to discern his thoughts, but he's always been impossible to read.

"If you tell me to go, I will. But...please." They both need this, both need love and comfort and something they can hold onto. They've had precious little of that in years, and now even less so. Dís strokes his arm gently, not wanting to pressure him further, but not willing to break contact with him completely, since he himself did not either.

Thorin should tell her to go, should walk away now, and never speak of it again. Let this end here before any more damage can be done because they may both want this now as a way to stop the pain, or at least to numb it, but what about later?

Still, he doesn't let her go.

Please.

Decades of being unable to deny Dís anything, and his own selfish need for this one thing war against his common sense, and he'll be ashamed later of the fact that it isn't much of a fight. He doesn't say anything, only holds Dis' gaze for a long moment. Her gentle touch on his arm, the feel of her still pressed close to him... It's all too much. Far too much. There is little else he can do but kiss her, slow and hesitant, as if he's waiting for her to change her mind.

Dís kisses him back with desperation, but it's hesitant too, as though waiting for him to pull away at any moment. She takes slow, shaky breaths between kisses, their mouths pressing together for mere moments, pulling away and bringing them together again for long, slow, deep kisses.

She runs a hand down his back to rest it low on his waist. She doesn't push him further but merely lets him set the pace for now. It's gentle, the way he touches her, as though afraid she'll break. Dís knows she won't break, though. They pull back again, and she doesn't quite let their lips meet the next time, instead keeping them only just barely apart so that she can feel his breath against her lips, mouth parted in expectation but she merely licks her lips. It's not seductive, nor nervous, but just something that's a little of both. Thorin watches her every movement, eyes tracking the motion of her tongue, and the wet sheen to her lips makes him want to kiss her again, and again, until neither of them can breathe. He reaches up, traces his thumb over her bottom lip.

"You need only say a word and I will leave," he says, needing one more assurance that he has in no way forced this upon her. "We need never speak of this..." He doesn't say that he would leave the mountains, if that's what she asked of him. If she found herself so disgusted by what has already transpired that she wished to never see him again, he would grant that wish, though it would break his heart to do so. "There is nothing I wouldn't do, for you." "I know," she says, and it's true. There's nothing she wouldn't do for him, either, but this isn't only for him. "How can I convince you that I am utterly sincere in this matter?"

She can still feel his touch against her lips even afterwards. Dís wants to take him to her bed, where they can give comfort and accept it in turn. This is between them, and only them, and she could no more deny him than she could deny her own name--her true name, her secret name, the one she's never spoken aloud, nor any other save for one. "I love you, Thorin. With all that I am. You are my king, my brother, and would I could give you everything. I want this. I want you." Any chance Thorin had of stopping, of coming to his senses is gone with those words, and he kisses her again, long and deep, yet still ever so gentle. "I love you, and I am yours, Dís," he says. "In whatever manner you wish me."

He'll still not ask her for anything she doesn't offer first, but he will gladly accept anything she does offer without hesitation, at least for tonight. At least for tonight, they can have this, can have each other, and they can forget everything else.

[misadventuresunderthemountain]

Summary: Thorin works far too hard, everyone knows it. Frerin offers distraction, and a way for him to relax and endeavors to demonstrate exactly how creative he and Dís can be. NC-17, ~6000 words; includes light bondage (and Dís and Frerin being little shits, because Reasons). Part 2 of our "We Shield Each Other" verse (part 1 can be found here or here).

[misadventuresunderthemountain]

Sorry there haven't been many posts lately, guys--we've been working on some of our longer verses and not many one-shots. But there are more to come soon, we promise! :)

[misadventuresunderthemountain]

The Three of Us, Always

Thorin/Frerin/Dís, AU. This is sort of just an excerpt from a longer fic (which you can find the backstory for here), but basically, porn. Lots of porn. NC-17 like WHOA, ~6200 words. Warnings for sibling incest and mentions of siblings having a child together.

ETA: Now on AO3!

He's had trouble thinking of anything else. While some part of him that isn't nearly as small as he would like to believe insists that if they were willing to seek such pleasures in each other, then perhaps... But no. They were young, reckless, foolish.

Telling himself that, that it wasn't likely to last, made keeping his hands to himself easier.  He ignores the fact that being caught had done little to dissuade them--that the birth of Fíli had done little to dissuade them.

The rooms are adjoining, the door between them left open. Thorin thinks of insisting that one of them stay with him, but if they want to see each other in the night, separate rooms will not stop them, and nor will he. Much as he might selfishly, jealously wish he could keep them from having what he wants, and knows he can't have. They were his siblings, for Mahal's sake, and had found companionship in each other besides. The trio that they had once been had become the pair of Frerin and Dís, leaving Thorin on the outskirts, and torn between wanting to stay there, and wanting to be with them, in every sense of the word.

"Good night," he mumbles, without looking at either of them, before leaving them to their own devices and closing the door between the two rooms with more force than is strictly necessary.

Dís stares at the door for some time after Thorin disappears behind it. It's been nearly impossible for either her or Frerin to determine if their attempts have been...successful or not, though admittedly they have been subtle--or at least, subtle for Frerin.

But the look on Thorin's face...

Frerin comes up from behind her and holds her close. "Something's on your mind," he says, "and I think I know what."

Dís sighs and rests her hands on his arms. She doesn't bother answering the unspoken question; there'd be no point.

Frerin rests his chin on Dís' head, staring at the door Thorin had slammed shut. "You did see the way he stared at us over dinner the other night?" he asks. He feels Dís nod. Frerin had caught Thorin watching them more than once, just as he'd caught him staring on several occasions before that. Perhaps he was only seeing what he wanted to see when he thought it looked as though the looks were longing...

After all, their attempts at trying to subtly lure Thorin to them had either gone unnoticed or ignored.

Though Frerin was rarely wrong about such matters. Maybe subtlety was simply the wrong approach. "Do you remember when you wanted Thorin to teach you to wield a sword, and he said no because Father wouldn't have approved?" Frerin had still been training himself, and not as skilled as their brother; Dís had wanted to learn from who she deemed the best. The only way they'd gotten Thorin to change his mind had been to make as much of a ruckus with blunted practice swords as they could any time Thorin had been in the practice ring to see them, and eventually his frustration over Frerin giving Dís poor lessons had gotten him to intervene, and take Dís' lessons into his own hands...

She turns around to face him, a wary smile on her lips. "Frerin, are you suggesting what I seem to think you're suggesting?" Dís remembers the sword training, and how she and Frerin had finally gotten Thorin to acquiesce and finally teach Dís himself.

The look on Frerin's face tells her that yes, it's exactly what he means, and Dís barely has a chance to say anything before she's shoved towards the door, her back hitting hard against the wood. She only laughs, though, and Frerin catches her mouth in a deep kiss. It's harsh and rough and Dís loves it, knows that Frerin enjoys taking matters into his own hands. Dís herself doesn't mind it either, but she can also give in when the mood strikes her...and right now is one of those times.

Even so, she can't help teasing a little; let him chase after her a bit. After all, Dís doesn't want to give up too easily, not to mention that the more noise they make, the more likely it is that they'll attract a certain someone's attention from the next room....

--

Thorin jerks at the bang on the door, the glares at it when he hears Dís' laugh. He rolls over on the bed, turning his back resolutely to the door. Something crashes in the next room, followed by another laugh, and Thorin closes his eyes, tries to concentrate on something. anything else.

That's...manageable for a time, until he hears the first moan. Thorin shoves his head under his pillow and tries to ignore the shiver the sound sends up his spine, and the spark of heat it fans.

The pillow does nothing to drown out the continued thumps--moving away from the door, in the direction of the bed, and curse these walls for being so damned thin--and the groans, and once, a demand in Dís' voice for Frerin to stop teasing... Which abruptly turns into a string of choked out curses. Thorin bites the inside of his cheek to try and distract himself from wondering... imagining what Frerin might be doing to make Dís' sweet voice trip over guttural curses in Khuzdul... What Dís might be doing to coax such desperate noises from Frerin--

Thorin groans, presses the pillow harder against his head, and absolutely refuses to acknowledge the the pulse of heat in his cock.

His gods' cursed brother and sister. He's never wanted to kill them more. It's late, they'll need to leave early in the morning to return home, lest Thrain accuse them of using the weather as an excuse to shirk their duties, and Thorin has had far too long a day as it is. He wants to sleep, and perhaps, for once, not be plagued by fantasies of his brother and sister, and yet here they are, making his life hell with a waking one.

He turns over, presses his face into the mattress, keeps the pillow clamped tightly over his head.

He hears another loud thump from next door as something hits the floor, and there's twin moans, loud and long...

Thorin rolls out of bed with a frustrated--in more ways than one--and angry growl, and storms towards the door that connects their rooms. He throws it open as though he doesn't know what he's going to see on the other side, and it's only fear of bringing other people down on their heads that keeps him from shouting when he says, "I agreed not to tell Father of this, but if you think that means you can flaunt it about as you like for everyone to hear, and interrupt my sleep!"

And he makes the very very dreadful mistake of looking, rather than focusing on some innocuous object on the floor; sees both of them sprawled on the bed, wearing not a stitch...

Another fan for the flames, and he stumbles over his words when he continues. "You--I--I expect better of you at least, Dís." He knew Frerin didn't care a whit for propriety. He's starting to wish he didn't either...

Dís and Frerin exchange a sly grin when Thorin enters the room, red-faced at the sight of them. They'd barely even started, in fact, in hopes that their plan might work, and just as he had when they were younger (although in much different circumstances), Thorin had been unable to keep himself from barging in on things.

"I'm sorry, brother," Dís says with a laugh, clearly not at all sorry. She twirls one of her loosened braids around her finger and notices when Thorin's gaze is drawn to it. With a sidelong glance at Frerin, Dís sits up a bit, letting the sheets fall away, though there isn't much left to the imagination as it is. She moves closer to Frerin, who drapes his arm across her shoulders; his hand brushes lightly across her drawn-up knee and along the top of her thigh.

Getting Thorin here had been, well, the difficult part. Hopefully this next one would be a bit easier, though that remained to be seen.

"Are you quite finished yelling?" asks Frerin.

Thorin tries not to look, and yet his eyes follow Dís' fingers as they play with her hair, are drawn to the heavily muscled expanse of Frerin's torso, caught by the movement of the sheet as it falls away to expose Dís' breasts... But what holds his attention, as it had the last time he'd caught them like this, is the closeness, the intimacy, even in the smallest brush of Frerin's fingers over Dís' knee... What he craves to have, with both of them.

"I wasn't yelling," he says, unable to think of anything else to say. So distracted is he that he can't even find it in himself to be worried about the looks on their faces. "I just... need sleep."

"Looks like you need something else entirely, to me," says Frerin, with smug grin, as he brushes his fingers lightly over Dís' collarbone. He inclines his head at Thorin.

And Thorin...Thorin is half hard, from having only listened to them, and seeing them has done nothing to help the matter. He needs to leave. He needs to leave now, before he can't. Why? he wonders. Why leave? If they were willing. But he can't. Regardless of...of this, he's still their brother, the one meant to look out for them... there were so many reasons why he couldn't. So, so many, that matter less and less the longer he stands here.

"You could join us," says Frerin, as casually as if he were asking Thorin to join them for a sparring match.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Thorin snaps, out of reflex, before what Frerin is suggesting has even managed to sink in. When it does, it doesn't change his answer, despite every inch of him screaming to say yes, to give in. To say damn the rules, and let go. "I can't." He can't, he can't, he can't...and yet he also can't bring himself to leave the room, either, even when he should. He really should, before he did something he'd regret later.

"Can't?" Dís echoes, leaning forward. She can see his gaze drift from her to Frerin and back again, can see the uncertainty mixed with want that he tries so hard to hide. "Or do you think it wouldn't be 'appropriate'?"

She doesn't think she can stand it much longer, the desperate need for them both making her want to stand and drag Thorin over to them. But Dís won't do it, not until he says yes. And Mahal knows how badly she wants him to say yes.

"It's not the same without you," she adds, glancing at Frerin, who nods before they both look back at Thorin. "It's always been the three of us." The ache in her heart starts to fade away, fades to nearly nothing as she feels Frerin's warm presence next to her and can see Thorin standing only a little closer than before. But the fear and doubt that he might still turn away keeps its grip on her heart nonetheless.

"Please," says Dís, her voice low. It's cold now that the blankets have been pulled away and she has very little of Frerin's body heat to keep her warmed up, but hopefully they'll have their answer very, very soon.

Thorin's throat tightens at Dís' plea, and her voice, and the look on both their faces tells him this isn't a whim, isn't some game they've decided to play to torment him. They want this, him, and they're offering... All he need do is reach out and take.

The three of them, always the three of them, in everything. Where one was, the other two weren't far behind, what one felt, so too did the others... It had always been so, and this time spent distancing himself from both of them, when he'd realized how he felt has been hell. Knowing that they were together, that Fíli was their child, it had only made that fierce longing for things he shouldn't want even worse.

He swallows, and it's quiet enough he can hear the click of his throat when he does. They're both watching him...waiting, silently pleading. He sways forward, but doesn't quite take a step. There was still so much wrong with all of this, and so many reasons he needed to leave. It was only that he couldn't recall them anymore...

"I-..." He may never get another chance. If he rejects them now, they may never offer again. The last sensible part of him left says all the more reason to say no. To walk away and shut the door and be done with it.

"Thorin...please," says Frerin, shifting closer to Dís, putting a hand to her shoulder. His voice is steady, but sounds strained... As if he were afraid.

He is, Thorin realizes. Afraid of Thorin saying no, as if it would be some devastating thing...

Thorin takes one hesitant step forward. "The three of us," he says, slowly. "Like always."

At Thorin's words, Dís laughs with giddy, nervous relief. She squeezes Frerin's hand on her shoulder before getting up and pulling Thorin forward, slowly, giving him a chance to move away. "You're absolutely sure?" she asks, and his fingers tighten over hers in response. Dís tugs at his vest, undoing the buttons as quickly as she can and pulls it off of him. With a glance back at Frerin, who gives her a reassuring look, Dís walks herself backwards, bringing Thorin with her until her knees hit the edge of the bed.

Thorin stays still when Dís sits, afraid to move. He is sure, but that doesn't mean he isn't also terrified. He's been fighting this, trying not to want them, for so long now that even after making the decision to stop, he can't quite bring himself to take the final plunge.

He does bring a hand up to follow the line of Dís' jaw, tipping her chin up to have her look at him. She, and Frerin look suddenly as uncertain as he and somehow, that's something of a reassurance. Dís takes his hand, kisses his palm, and it sends shocks up his arm.

Frerin walks on his knees over the mattress to settle behind Dís, and dots her bare shoulder with a line of kisses, all the way up her neck, and to her ear, where he says, "We knew we'd have to loosen him up."

If Dís responds, Thorin doesn't hear it, suddenly distracted as he is by her hands tugging at the lacing of his tunic. He fleetingly thinks that there is still time to escape before Frerin raises up again, and pulls Thorin to him by the lone braid in his beard into a kiss, with Dís still between them, still working at Thorin's tunic.

Thorin makes a muffled 'mmph!' of surprise, and years of denial, and telling himself no means his first instinct is to pull away--but Frerin holds fast to his braid, and the touch of  his lips on Thorin's chases any other thoughts away, and Thorin lets himself sink into it, lets the haze start to take over his mind.

Dís manages to finish with the laces and pulls at Thorin's tunic, forcing them to break their kiss for just an instant while she tugs it over his head. She traces her slim fingers down the middle of his chest and smiles when she feels him shiver under her touch. Frerin is still behind her, keeping Dís pinned between him and Thorin; the feeling of skin on skin is exactly right, so much more than she'd ever thought it might be.

She reaches down and fumbles with Thorin's trousers, glancing up to make sure that he's all right with this. He seems so skittish but slowly giving in, and Dís knows well how Frerin's kisses can be...intoxicating. Everything slowly clicks into place as Thorin's hand moves to rest at her hip, the other against Frerin's, and Dís finally gets Thorin's trousers off and shoves them down. She can't help gasping when she feels them both hard against her, heat rising in her cheeks and she's dizzy and drunk on every single sensation, every single second.

Reaching back behind her, Dís drags her blunted nails up along Frerin's thigh; he gasps and pushes forward against her and she gives a soft laugh. Dís pushes off the bed to stand between them and Frerin follows quickly after her. She's trapped even tighter between them now, and Dís presses a small, barely-there kiss at the hollow of Thorin's throat, standing on her toes in order to reach. Trailing kisses down to his collarbone, down his chest, moving her hips as she keeps going further and further down, nipping at his navel and earning a small groan from Thorin.

"Do you still think that it's so ridiculous now, Thorin?" she hears Frerin murmur. Dís grabs at the back of Thorin's thighs as she bites softly at the flesh just below his navel, moving across to his hipbone and kneeling in front of him.

Thorin only has a moment to worry about the chill in the room when Dís so quickly relieves him of his clothes before she's pressed against him, and Frerin behind her, and suddenly everything is hot, like the fires in the largest of their forges. More than that, it feels... right, the three of them. Just as they'd said; the three of them together, as it had always been, and was always supposed to be.

He wants to tell Frerin to shut up, though, at his comment, but Frerin will hardly let him breathe, and Dís... Oh, Mahal, Dís... He can feel her, moving lower, and lower still, and he knows he's shaking under both of their ministrations. He buries one hand in Dís' hair, not pulling, only needing something to ground himself, and curls the other against Frerin's hip as Frerin sucks a bruise at the hinge of his jaw, his beard scraping along Thorin's neck.

He groans when Frerin fists a hand in his hair and pulls his head back, to bare more of his throat. "So many things we've thought about," he says against Thorin's skin. "What should we start with, little sister?"

Dís hums a laugh, tracing nonsensical patterns along Thorin's skin. "I'm not sure," she says airily. "As you said, there's so many things we can choose from..." Thorin's fingers carding through her hair and along the braids hidden underneath sends a small shiver along her spine. "Although I have an idea or two." With that she brings her hand around and takes Thorin's cock in hand, licking at the tip while she trails her fingertips along his shaft. Dís slides her lips over the head of his cock and grins around him when she hears his long, broken moan.

Her free hand comes up to press into his trembling thighs, stroking his flesh with her thumb in gentle, repetitive motions. The hand tangled in her hair seems frozen, as though Thorin is unwilling to push her any further than she's gone so far. Frerin's hand is tracing along her shoulder, towards her neck, along her back; Dís can hear their heavy breathing between messy, wet kisses. The image of it in her mind makes her inhale sharply and she feels dizzy with lust.

Thorin leans forward--Frerin most likely pulling Thorin towards him in some way--and Dís presses hard on the hand in her hair, makes Thorin push her head further towards him, taking even more of his cock into her mouth.

"She's gorgeous, isn't she, brother?" Frerin says above her. Thorin's only answer is a loud groan and a sharp, shallow breath.

He tastes like salt and sweat and something bitter, but her eyes flutter closed as she lets go of his hand and reaches down to rub her fingers against her sex. Waves of pleasure wash over her and she takes deep shallow breaths, Thorin's cock still in her mouth, but her bottom lip is now the only part in contact with his flesh. Dís licks along the underside and Thorin's hips buck forward, pressing himself further into her mouth.

She wants more, wants to feel them both touch her everywhere, their hands trailing along every inch of her skin. But right now there's this, there's Thorin, inside her in this way that Dís had never dared hope to have, and it sends a thrill through her and makes her rub her fingers harder against herself in small circular motions.

Thorin can't breathe, much less find the words to answer Frerin, not that he thinks Frerin needed one. Dís' mouth is burning hot around him, and Frerin's nails score down his chest, and Thorin is suddenly very sure that they are going to be the death of him. Frerin scrapes his teeth along the shell of Thorin's ear, and Thorin finally finds in himself to take some sort of action, dragging his fingers along Frerin's hip, and down to take his cock in hand. Frerin's nails bite into the flesh of his ribs.

"Oh, don't stop now, brother," says Frerin, breathing against his ear, then his hand is covering Thorin's, guiding his strokes, pulls, and twists, showing Thorin exactly what he likes... He's panting in Thorin's ear, muttering encouragement and demands, as he thrusts into their joined hands.

And between them, Thorin sees Dís, her mouth around his cock, her own hand between her thighs, and Mahal, both of them are beautiful, and more than he could ever have hoped for...and perhaps more than he can handle. His breath still catches in his throat, and the trembling in his legs only gets worse, and he can feel the tension and heat pooling low in his belly already. "Dí-ís," he chokes out. If she doesn't stop--

But Frerin pulls her away, by the shoulder, Thorin coming free of her mouth with an obscene noise, and it's lucky that Frerin takes the base of his cock in a vice grip to stop him coming, then. Thorin's moan turns into a strangled whine as he's denied the release.

Frerin only smirks at him. "Not yet," he says. "We haven't even begun yet." He pulls Dís up to her feet, and Thorin...Thorin can't resist; he reaches out, drags Dís to him, and kisses her, hard, tastes himself on her tongue, and groans into her mouth.

Frerin pushes the pair of them towards the bed, until Thorin's knees collide with it, and he topples back onto the mattress, and now both of his siblings are standing over him, and both look completely devious... Mahal help him, he's not going to survive this.

Dís falls onto the bed with a laugh when Frerin shoves at them, and she's sprawled on top of Thorin as she lands. She pushes up onto her knees and wraps her arms over Frerin's shoulders as the two of them stare down at Thorin. Her lips curl up into a sly grin and she exchanges a glance with Frerin. Thorin already looks gorgeous, all spread out on his back like this, his hair a wild mess, panting and clutching tightly at the sheets on the bed.

Then Dís pulls Frerin's head to the side by his hair and seals her lips over his, his tongue slipping into her mouth; she's sure that Thorin's taste still lingers on her own tongue and Frerin hums against her lips, pulling back with a devious smile on his face. He then places his hands on either side of Thorin's head, bending down and looming over him as he bites and sucks at a spot on Thorin's neck.

A thought enters Dís' head and she laughs a little before she slips her hand down to grasp Frerin's cock. He pulls back from Thorin and hisses a gasp at the touch; Dís bites at the skin along his shoulder. She doesn't have a chance to do much more, however, as the next thing she knows she's on her back lying on top of Thorin, who runs his hands along her inner thighs, close to where she wants him to touch her--

"Don't," Frerin warns. "Not yet." He brushes over the nubs on Dís' breasts until they stiffen, and she throws her head back against Thorin's shoulder with a gasp, her hips lifting up. It's torturous now that the tables have been turned on her, and she feels herself growing wetter and more desperate as Frerin runs his thumbs along the undersides of her breasts, sucking at the skin and leaving small red marks there.

Then he wraps an arm around her shoulders, his other arm around her waist as he pulls her up flush against him. Frerin's hand moves down from her waist, further down and she shoves her hips against him, trying to push up so that her cunt is lined up with his cock and give herself some relief. But then Frerin spins her around and she cries out; her head lolls back against his shoulder, Frerin's hand on her wrist, the other trailing down her stomach, further and further until he reaches down and pushes her thighs apart.

Dís feels open and exposed, spread out to where she's positioned directly over Thorin's cock. Her cheeks are burning and desire heats the blood coursing through her, her heart pounding wildly and every part of her feels on fire. Then finally, finally Frerin presses one finger inside of her, and she feels his cock pressed against her ass, thrusting forward, and Dís gives out a long, ragged moan at the dizzying lust that seems to overtake her at being on display like this.

Thorin is dizzy, drunk from the feeling of Dís being atop him, then can only watch as Frerin pulls her away, teases her, then spins her around and spreads her out above Thorin, and it's a slow sort of torture that has Thorin grasping at the sheets, fisting them in his hands. He wants so badly to brace his feet against the mattress, to shove up, bury himself in Dís, but Frerin's weight pins his legs, and he can't move, can't even shift his hips up to try and rut against her for some sort of relief...

The shift of Dís' hips as Frerin pleasures her only makes it worse, as every so often there is the lightest brush against his cock, either from Frerin's hand or Dís, he isn't sure, and it doesn't matter, all that matters is that it's a teasing, barely there sensation that has him keening for something more. Frerin watches him over Dís' shoulder, lips curved into a devilish, almost cruel grin as he pulls breathy moans and curses from their sister.

That is the final straw: Thorin lets go of the sheets and starts to reach down to take himself in hand, because he needs something, but Frerin catches his hand and grips his wrist tight. "Hands off," he says, making it clear it's not a request--a shudder runs up Thorin's spine--and tosses Thorin's hand away.

Thorin lets out a frustrated, choked growl, and starts to reach down again, as why should he listen to his little brother but Frerin grabs his hand again, and Dís gives him a commanding look, digs blunt nails into his stomach, even as she arches into Frerin's touch, and Thorin lets his hand drop, to once again grip tight at the sheets. He curses at both of them in Khuzdul, but he does not try again.

"Please," he chokes out, when it all becomes too much. Every inch of him aches, and burns, and screams for release, and he flexes his toes, tries in vain to arch up under their combined weight.

Frerin's still rocking gently against Dís from behind, still moving his fingers inside her when he turns his head and bites at the silver cuff on Dís' ear and murmurs, "Should we let him feel you, sister? As I have?"

Dís nods, panting and shaking, needing something more than just Frerin's teasing fingers inside of her. Frerin pulls away and she moans just a little, but his hands are grasping her hips; she braces herself on Thorin's chest, his skin hot and slick beneath her hands.

"Ah! F-Frerin, I-" she gasps as Frerin guides her down onto Thorin's cock, and he feels so damn good inside of her. Mahal help her but Dís knows that the last piece of the aching emptiness inside of her has fallen into place, that she's taken both of them into herself and there's nothing separating the three of them from one another now.

"Go on, sister," he breathes in her ear, "ride him. Ride him hard."

She begins to move, thrusting her hips down and breathing hard; every movement has her moaning, her head hanging down and every inch of her skin drenched in sweat. The heat inside her, the heat between her thighs, it's so much and she thinks she'll fly apart at any moment. She says their names over and over, her voice barely a whisper but growing louder as she and Thorin fall into a hard, fast rhythm together.

Thorin's moan catches in his throat when Frerin guides Dís onto him, and he goes utterly silent as he throws his head back, unable and his vision goes blank for a moment. Then Dís begins to move, and he can feel Frerin moving as well, and Thorin's entire world narrows to only Dís' nails on his skin, the feel of her around his cock, Frerin's ass on his legs as he moves behind Dís. 

Frerin keeps one arm wrapped around Dís, his fingers still tangled in the curls between her thighs, rubbing at her in time with her, and Thorin's movements. Thorin grips Dís' thigh tight with one hand, and Frerin's arm with the other, gasping out their names.

"See what you've been missing, brother?" Frerin says, his own breath short, now. Thorin feels fingers pressing into his thigh hard enough to bruise and he hisses through his teeth at the feeling, but Frerin only smirks at him from over Dís' shoulder. "You're ours, isn't he, Dís?"

It doesn't matter what Dís' answer is, if she has one; Thorin knows he is, has always been. He's at their mercy, and there is nowhere he would rather be, now or ever again. He grabs Dís by the hair, pulls her down into a hard kiss, and he's so damn close it hurts, his blood practically boils in his veins and even the scratch of the sheets against him makes him quake...

Dís pulls at Thorin's hair hard when he drags her down, her hips rocking against him hard and fast; then Frerin tugs on Dís' hair as well, as though giving Thorin permission to leave his own mark on Dís' neck. She lets out a strangled cry, pressure and heat and all of it building, Frerin's hand against her and Thorin inside her. She's riding a wave of pleasure as she grabs Thorin by the hips and thrusts down hard against him.

And then it all crests and crashes down over her; Dís moans long and loud, breathing hard as she loses all control of herself and her body. White fire seems to run through her veins and is all gone in an instant. She wants to collapse over with exhaustion, but her brothers haven't come yet, and she pushes herself back up in order to speed them towards their release.

Thorin takes the silent permission, to arch up and bite and suck a mark onto Dís' pale throat, caring little for how she'll hide it later; let them all bear each other's marks for now. Let them be claimed as each others.

His hands scramble and claw at both of them, as he can feel himself winding tighter, and tighter as Dís cries out, and clenches around him, her movements stuttering and faltering. Frerin is cursing repeatedly to himself, and with the arm still around Dís, he curls his fingers against Thorin's stomach, pulling at the coarse hair there, and the sting of it has Thorin shouting, his eyes slamming shut as his release hits him like a hammer, and he arches up off the mattress. Sparks light behind his closed eyes and he feels as though he's being wrung dry, drained of any last remnants of energy he has in one crushing wave of bliss and fire.

He sinks back against the mattress and everything feels distant, but Dís, and Frerin are both still moving and Thorin practically whimpers at the continued stimulation on overwrought nerves, but he can't, and won't tell them to stop.

Frerin moves away from behind Dís, then, to kneel beside both of them, still hard, and Thorin, before he can think about it, clumsily reaches for Dís’ hand, and has both of them take Frerin's cock in hand; they'll bring him off together.

Dís lets Thorin take her hand in his and wrap them both around Frerin's cock; Frerin gives a small shudder and a short cry as he hangs his head and tries to catch his breath. It doesn't take them long to make him come, and he falls next to Dís, so that each of them are on either side of her.

The only sound for some time is the sound of their heavy breathing, the three of them completely and utterly spent, exhausted, needing sleep. But Dís turns her head slowly towards Thorin, wondering if they ought to talk about it all. It was clear that he seemed to enjoy himself, but she has to be sure. With Thorin, it's always best to be sure.

"Thorin..." she murmurs, running a finger gently along his cheek. His eyes are shut, but he opens them when he feels the touch of her hand.

"Leave him be, Dís " says Frerin, half-heartedly, still panting. He rolls over and throws an arm over Dís' stomach, to rest his hand on Thorin's, where he taps his fingers. Thorin grabs his hand to still his fingers.

Thorin hums at Dís when he opens his eyes, and catches her hand with his own and holds her there when he turns his head to kiss her fingers. "What?" he asks, and his voice is still wrecked, and he can feel his hands shaking. He would like nothing better than to let sleep claim him now, and keep hold of him for perhaps the next week. Yet at the same time, he wonders whether he'll not wake up in his own bed and find that this has been a...very vivid and intense dream.

Frerin lifts his head to watch both of his siblings, as if he hadn't just told Dís to leave it be.

"I just want to make sure, Frerin," Dís says wearily. "Thorin, you're certain that this...this is what you wanted, isn't it?"

She's tired, more than tired, and the heat and weight of them next to her threatens to send her into sleep at any moment. But she has to know.

"It's not what I wanted," Frerin mutters, in mock disappointment. "He's still capable of speech."

Thorin ignores his brother... which is surprisingly easier to do now than it had been before. "It is," he says to Dís. Later, he wonders if this won't haunt him, but... for now he is content, sated, and exhausted. He rolls onto his side, and struggles to prop himself on his elbow so he can lean down to kiss Dís slow and deep. He pulls away, then drags Frerin to him, over Dís  and kisses him as well, taking in the differences between them. "It is," he says again. "The three of us, always..." They were each other's shields, each other's support, each other's worlds.

Dís smiles, leaning over to kiss Frerin when Thorin pulls away, kissing him on the tip of his nose when they part from one another. "I'm glad," she says quietly. It's always been the three of them, and everything feels right now, the pieces all fallen into place. She curls her legs up, her brothers' arms around her and their legs all tangled together, all three of them touching and being touched. It's almost the same way they'd done when they were children, when one or the other had a nightmare and they'd all three crawled into bed together. She falls into sleep, knowing that for now, they're safe, and they're together, all of them.

[misadventuresunderthemountain]

Reassurance (Fili/Kili)

After the incident with the giants, both Fili and Kili come to terms with a few things. Hard R, ~3800 words. (Yes, it's the cliche post-giants scenario, but who said cliche has to be all that bad? :p) Warning for incest, somewhat public sex.

Fíli can almost taste Kíli's words on his tongue; heat stirs in his blood and it chases away some of the chill in his bones. A small, strangled sound escapes his lips and he knows that Kíli can hear it. He nearly lost Kíli today...the rush of relief at seeing him, after he'd thought he never would again, started the cascade of pieces falling into place in his mind. He tries to speak but his heart feels caught in his throat; clutching to Kíli's tunic, he can't push forward that last small bit and close the distance, so he fists the material in his hands as tightly as he can. Fíli can't let his brother go, not again. Kíli expected Fíli to push him away, and instead...The noise his words pull from his brother, and the hand fisting in his tunic makes him draw in a sharp breath. He doesn't know whether he should hope, or not, but the feeling is there anyway. He covers Fíli's clenched hands with his own, and he gives Fíli a searching look. He only takes his eyes off his brother when they flutter closed as the last minuscule distance between them disappears, and Kíli feels Fíli's cool lips against his own, and the light scratch of his beard and mustache. A shiver runs down his spine; it's the lightest of kisses, but it's more than he's ever been allowed. He feels Fíli's hands tighten further under his own, and without pulling back, he whispers, "Fíli?" Fíli nods once, his eyes closed; he doesn't know when this happened, but he wants this, needs a reassurance that Kíli is here and isn't leaving him, that he won't be taken from Kíli either. "Please," he whispers. How long has he wanted this from Kíli, wanted to give this to Kíli, without realizing it? How long has it been that he's noticed himself watching his brother, feeling the heat deep inside himself, only to find something to explain it away? He doesn't know. All he knows is that he wants this now, wants to make up for all this lost time. Kíli tries to breathe in and out at the same time, and only ends up hiccuping and making his chest burn, but he doesn't let that stop him from kissing Fíli again, and his heart feels as though it's going to burst when Fíli kisses him back. His mind sings a chorus of finally, and the warmth spreading through him is more than enough to chase away the last of the chill from the rain. He clutches at Fíli's shoulders, trying to pull him closer, though there is no closer they could be, and trying to keep him there, keep him from changing his mind. He's wanted, for so damn long, and he'd nearly lost Fíli tonight; he's not letting go, not if Mahal himself tried to pull them apart. Finger still against his brother's mouth, Kíli shifts and raises his head to look around them; the sounds of the others snoring is the only noise, and most of them are a good ways away, except Ori. But Ori sleeps like the dead. He looks back at Fíli, now, and twists one of the braids in his mustache between his fingers. "Yes or no?" he asks, as quietly as he can without Fíli no longer being able to hear him. He drags his thumb over Fíli's bottom lip. They should talk, they really should, and Kíli knows that... and if Fíli insists, he will, but all he really needs to know is whether Fíli wants what he does. Fíli looks at him and hesitates for only a moment before he breathes, "Yes." Kíli's small, broken moan is the only warning he has before Kíli moves forward and captures his lips in a hard, fierce kiss. As quickly as it started Kíli breaks it off, moves to whisper in Fíli's ear, and Fíli can barely hear him say "don't make a sound" before Kíli's hands begin to move everywhere, over his still slightly-damp clothes, but Fíli doesn't care about that. He's uncertain, almost afraid to touch Kíli as well, surprising himself with how willing he is to let Kíli take the lead here. But whatever Kíli wants, Fíli wants to give to him. Kíli has no qualms with taking the lead, but he wants Fíli to actually touch him, to stop being so hesitant. He nips at the shell of Fíli's ear, trying to incite some sort of reaction from his brother, and gets a sharp exhale in return, but Fíli's hands remain light, and uncertain, and Kíli wants, needs so much more than that. He doesn't want to speak, doesn't want to risk being too loud, and waking anyone--or alerting Bofur, provided he had not fallen asleep on his watch--and so he tries to demand more without speaking; he hooks a leg over one of Fíli's own, underneath their blankets, and draws it back until Fíli's thigh is trapped between his, and he drags Fíli's hand up to his hair, trying to make Fíli's fingers curl there. He kisses Fíli again, and again, hard and desperate, more teeth and tongue than anything. It keeps them both silent, at least. Fíli tries his best to stay quiet, hands tangling in Kíli's hair and tugging as he pulls back only enough so that Kíli chases after him to keep their mouths sealed against one another's. He presses his other hand against the small of Kíli's back and brings their hips flush against one another. Fíli's trousers grow tight as Kíli's thigh pushes upward against  Fíli's cock and he needs more, dammit, needs more; he doesn't even know what he wants more of but he's sure he'll find out soon. He trusts Kíli with everything, including this. Kíli hisses into his brother's mouth when he feels him harden against his thigh, and he pushes further, the feeling of Fíli rocking against him sending shocks of lust and heat through him, and he's as hard as Fíli in moments. He grabs Fíli's hand and shoves it between them, pressing his brother's palm against his own cock, and he finally breaks the kiss, having to bite his lip hard enough to bruise to keep in a moan as he ruts against Fíli's palm. This is absurd, really, they could be heard regardless of how low they keep their voices-- the rustle of their clothes and the blankets isn't loud but if someone were to wake--or seen if someone got up to take over the watch for Bofur, but Kíli doesn't think he'd give a damn if the entire company were suddenly awake and watching. It's only he and Fíli here right now, everyone else be damned. Fíli bites at Kíli's lip to keep himself from making a sound, rutting against Kíli's thigh as he rubs the heel of his hand against his brother's cock and can feel Kíli becoming hard under his touch. It sends a shiver down his spine and he wants to roll them over to where he can pull Kíli on top of him, wants them to be alone where they can make as much noise as they want. But they have to be careful and be quiet, lest they wake the others or draw any attention to themselves. Fíli is terrified of anyone finding them out but it's not enough to make him stop. Kíli wishes he could hear Fíli, wishes they could take their time and do as they like, as loudly as they liked. He wants to be able to take his time, to have Fíli spread underneath him, nothing between them, just skin on skin, and preferably on something more comfortable than the sleeping mats and hard stone. But this is neither the time, nor the place for being slow, or letting go entirely. Perhaps later. Right now he'll take this; Fíli hard against his thigh, his hand on Kíli's cock, and moans swallowed by each other's mouths-- Someone moves at the back of the cave, and Kíli is grateful for his keen ears, else he might not have heard it through the fog of lust, and the rustling of fabric. He pulls away from Fíli and goes utterly still, save to make a shushing gesture at his brother, in case he'd not heard what Kíli did. Thought it would be hard to miss now that they're still; there's the sound of bare feet on stone, and a buckle clinking, and the scrape of wood on rock...Bilbo. Kíli bites back a frustrated groan, because he's still achingly hard, and damn the burglar for his nighttime wanderings.

[misadventuresunderthemountain]

Before Sunrise, They're Your Sons

AU where Erebor was never taken and Fíli and Kíli are both Thorin's sons (with Thorin and Dís' relationship being out in the open and is accepted and such). Gen, implied Thorin/Dís, ~3000 words. This is just pure and utter schmoopy, sugary domestic Durins. Warning for implied incest between siblings, as usual.

Kíli is prone to coming up with rules on the spot when he doesn't think a game is going his way. Fíli, usually the first to correct him on such matters, doesn't say a word against him this time. "All right then," Thorin says, releasing Fíli, and pulling Kíli down off his shoulders so he can fall back against his pillow. "The monster is defeated." "You can't go back to sleep," says Kíli, bouncing on Thorin's legs. "Mama, tell him." "He won't go back to sleep," says Frerin, standing in the doorway. In all the commotion, Thorin hadn't even heard him approach, "We won't let him." "Morning, Frer--agh!" Dís says, but Fíli jumps into her arms before she can finish speaking. "Fíli, love, for Mahal's sake, calm down!" Usually it was Kíli she had this sort of trouble from. Frerin only laughs and walks into the room. "Looks like you two have your hands full." "No thanks to you," says Dís, pulling Fíli into a tight hug. He giggles and throws his arms around her neck, kissing her cheek. Dís smiles and rubs her nose against his. "When are you all planning to leave?" she asks finally, when Frerin is closer to them. Dís tries to untangle her feet from within the blankets but only manages to knock her knees against Thorin's. He only pulls her closer, Fíli getting tugged along with her. "Right now!" says Kíli, overeager, as always. "No," says Thorin, without the slightest hesitation, despite Kíli's hopeful look. "After sunrise, and after breakfast. After the pair of you barging in here, I've a mind to leave you home." He wouldn't, really, and they both likely know it, but it doesn't stop Kíli from pouting at him. "Oh, come now, Thorin," says Frerin. "Don't crush the poor boys' hopes." He sits on the edge of the bed,  close enough that Thorin can aim a kick at him, which is enough to make the boys laugh all over again. In retaliation, Frerin scoots down slightly, then lays back, sprawled over Dís and Thorin's feet, trapping them, and at the very least crushing Thorin's toes with his bulk. He's as bad as the children. Kíli takes Frerin laying there as him begging to be attacked, and so leaps out of Thorin's lap and onto Frerin's chest with an impressive war cry for someone so small. Grimacing at the extra weight on his feet, Thorin asks Dís, "You're entirely sure you don't want to come along?" Frerin is going to be of no help keeping the boys in line for this outing... She laughs and leans over to kiss him. "No, I have to stay here and take care of matters that you-" Dís pokes him in the chest-- "-are so very conveniently skiving off on." Much as she'd like to go, Dís thinks that at least one of them should be responsible, running a kingdom and all. She kisses him again, and she can hear Kíli making a noise of disgust nearby. "Gross...!" "If you don't like it, Kíli, then you can always just stay home today," she says, turning toward him with a smile. Kíli's eyes go wide. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Works every time, Dís thinks. She yawns suddenly and sits up, the sleeve of her nightdress falling off of one shoulder when she brings her arms back down. Her stomach is growling and she's sure that her boys are probably starving as well--they always are. "Frerin, how about you can fix breakfast this morning? Since you were so kind as to send these little monsters in to wake us up." "I do you a favor by providing you with the opportunity to bond with your children and I'm rewarded with being treated as your personal cook," says Frerin, sounding put upon. Thorin kicks him again. "All right, all right, I'm going. The abuse I suffer at your hands. Or your feet, rather." When Frerin gets up, Thorin says, "Boys, why don't you go with him. Make sure he doesn't take too long, or else we'll be delayed." The look Frerin gives him is utterly priceless. Fíli and Kíli only linger long enough to hug both of their parents before they're off the bed and wrapped tightly around Frerin's legs, as though they mean to have him walk with them on his feet. Likely, they do. The idea of course, is to delay Frerin, that Thorin might get at least a little extra time to relax, without his sons realizing they've done it for him. Frerin looks to Dís for help. "Dís, call them off?" "Not likely," she says with a wry look. Frerin gives her a long-suffering sigh, then makes his way slowly out the door with exaggerated steps, the two boys attached to his legs giggling and laughing the entire time. Dís chuckles and falls back onto the pillows, rolling over and wrapping an arm around Thorin. "I can certainly think of better ways to wake up in the morning," says Dís, "but I can also think of far worse." "We could always go back to sleep and try again," says Thorin, somewhat hopefully. Frerin will be delayed a good while trying to get down to the kitchens with the boys on his feet. Then there was the general chaos the two would likely cause in the kitchens, and the trouble they'd be into on the way back up... Though if he's honest, while he could have done without the early morning ambush, there really wasn't a better way to wake up than with Dís, and their children, and Frerin, nuisance though he was most of the time. He was a horrible influence on the boys. "It really is a shame you're not coming... Think of all the excitement you're going to miss." By excitement of course, he means chaos and general disturbance of the peace. "If you think you can sleep with that racket going on in the kitchen, then be my guest," Dís says, nodding her head in the general direction of the other room. Shouts and laughter and banging of pots and pans can be heard even through the closed door. With a sigh she runs her fingers through his hair. Though she's still rather tired, Dís knows that she can't go back to sleep after waking up like that. And she's secretly a little miffed, considering her plan to wake Thorin up a little while later, but she can't be too upset in any case. Seeing her boys so happy, and seeing her brothers in such genial moods, is enough for her. "I wish I could come, but someone has to stay here and do all of the dull, tedious work that comes with running a kingdom. You know, hearing petitioners, going through financial records with our purse-master, seeing that inspections of the mines are being run in a timely manner..." She could go on and on, but Thorin pretends to go back to sleep and makes a loud snoring sound. Dís laughs and smacks him playfully. "Enough of that!" Thorin smiles at her. "You did ask if I could get back to sleep." Truthfully, he thinks if they'd both managed to survive Kíli's infancy and the constant noise--unfortunately where Fíli had been a quite, calm babe, Kíli had not been--they could likely get back to sleep through anything. He shifts closer, a hand to her hip, the other catching her fingers in his hair. "Well if we're not to sleep, what should we do with our time 'til they manage to cobble something together to eat?" Dís hums a laugh and grins at him. "I'm not sure we'd have enough time for what you seem to be thinking of..." Not to mention the possibility that a certain little dwarfling or two might come bursting in the door at any moment. "But keep that in mind for when you get home tonight, and we'll see." After all, the boys didn't have a nursemaid just to chase them around the halls of Erebor. Their nursemaid Inga, bless her heart, was the only one who seemed never to tire when pitted against the princelings' endless amounts of energy, and seemed to have an uncanny sense of where the two of them were hiding at any given time. Cheerful girl, too--Dís doesn't know how she can manage it all the time. "I hope they don't wear you out too much today," she teases. "The three of them together can be quite a handful, after all." Thorin sighs before he kisses her, quick, and playful. "I may have to cut the trip short then, and hurry back." And find a way to have Frerin far, far away. He grimaces when something bangs particularly loudly and he hears Kíli shout, "FÍLI DID IT." Perhaps it is better they save anything more for tonight, after all. Much as it would certainly have improved the morning. "They could never tire me too much when I have you waiting for me." And though they should be getting up and getting ready for the day, if they're both awake anyway, he can't quite resist slipping his hand under her nightshirt--which he thinks might actually be one of his tunics--and giving her rear a squeeze as he pulls her flush against him. "So I'll hold you to your word." Dís gives a yelp of surprise when he grabs her, and she starts to laugh, spinning him around to shove him down on the bed. "Oh, you'll have a great deal to look forward to, I can assure you of that." She kisses him, lingering a little but moves back when he grabs for her, only laughing at his frustrated growl. "Better hurry home tonight, then," Dís says, and she grins even wider before running towards the dressing room in their bedchamber. Her laughter only grows louder when he chases after her, catching her from behind and lifting her up to spin her around the room. "Mama, Da, breakfast is ready!" comes Kíli's voice as he runs into their room. "We're coming then," says Thorin, setting Dís back down. He keeps hold of her though, and kisses her bared shoulder. Kíli flees before he is subjected to seeing more of his parents' displays of affection, announcing at the top of his lungs that "Mama and Da are being gross again!" as he goes. "How is he my son?" Thorin asks, dropping his head onto Dís' shoulder and sighing with fond exasperation. She kisses his temple and chuckles. "Just give him a few years, darling, I'm sure he'll change his mind. Maybe some nice young dwarrow-lad or lass will catch his eye and then we'll have to deal with all his mooning and pining over them." Thorin groans and Dís pats his cheek. "Don't take too long coming to breakfast, all right?" The thought of Kíli pining over someone, if he pined like any of his family, was a terrifying one. By the time he gets to the table, things have already dissolved into chaos. There seems to be some sort of argument over whether or not Kíli pulled Fíli's hair, and who threw whatever it is that's splattered on Frerin's nose. Things quiet down for a moment when Thorin sits in his chair, but in a moment, the noise starts up again. "Kili kicked me." "Did not." "Did too." Thorin is more than used to it, and only says, "Kili stop chewing on your hair, you've food in your mouth." He looks at Dís, though, and can't help but quirk a smile at her. It's chaos, but it's their chaos.

[misadventuresunderthemountain]

The Only Thing That's Ever Wrong With Me Is You (Fili/Kili)

Kili's jealousy and and Fili's over-caution leads to gratuitous sex and violence. PWP, hard R, ~3600 words. Warnings for incest, violence, possible consent issues, over-possessiveness possibly.

Kíli slams his mug down on his table hard enough to startle the Men sitting near by. He pays them no mind; his attention is focused across the tavern, where his brother sits with one of the barmaids practically hanging off his arm. It doesn't matter whether or not Fíli is responding to her, Kíli doesn't care.

What does matter is that he's had just enough to drink that he doesn't care what Fíli's said in the past about them, and he wants that woman to get her hands off.

The woman sneers at him, like she's going to tell him to get lost, but her eyes focus on the way Kíli's hand tightens on Fíli's shoulder, and she mutters an excuse about customers waiting before she leaves. The barmaid is doing a poor job of concealing her flirtations, but it's harmless enough that Fíli engages her in polite, if not-encouraging conversation. It's not unusual for non-dwarf women to find him attractive, but he doesn't have it happen on a regular basis; he isn't interested, though, and he hopes it becomes apparent enough to her soon.

Suddenly there's a firm hand on his shoulder, gripping just a little too tightly. He looks up to see his brother standing over him with a hard look in his eye that's aimed at the barmaid. She nearly protests but seems to think again, muttering something under her breath as she walks off.

"That was rather rude," Fíli says lightly. He brings up his tankard to take a long drink of his ale. His head is buzzing pleasantly from the alcohol, but he's not nearly as drunk as he'd like to be right now. Kíli just turns his glare on Fíli, but Fíli is not in the mood for his brother's childish pettiness. "It made my point clear enough to her," says Kíli, sparing a glare for a Man giving them an odd look. "And to anyone else with wandering eyes, or hands."

That Fíli seems entirely unbothered by, well, everything, only serves to annoy Kíli. Fíli's always so damned calm, always the cool head, always the reasonable one, and Kíli hates him for it sometimes. "Come on," he says, tugging sharply on Fíli's sleeve. They've a room already set up, upstairs, and Kíli has plans to put it to use, regardless of what Fíli might say about how they can't. Fíli pulls away from him. "I'm still drinking," he protests. He hates how Kíli can be so pushy sometimes, and how he'll get angry if anyone so much as looks at Fíli--more often than Fíli thinks is reasonable.

"If you want to go, then go right on," says Fíli. "I'll be upstairs when I'm ready." He can feel the eyes of the Men and dwarves around them, and they aren't looking in their directions in the way that Kíli seems to think. Kíli might not care whether anyone knows about them or not, but Fíli does and dammit, why can't Kíli at least understand that? "So bring the drink with you," says Kíli. He's just itching to move now, doesn't want to sit still, and it probably has more than a little to do with the fact that Fíli has been so adamant about keeping their distance of late, but damn it, no one here knows. Kíli could pin him against the bar and have him there and the only consequence would be them likely ending up banned from the inn. But no, Fíli is always so damn cautious. It's maddening sometimes.  He pulls at Fíli again, with more force this time.

"What the hell is wrong with you today?" Fíli asks, yanking away from Kíli yet again. Kíli has been pushing and pushing more and more lately and he doesn't seem to notice when Fíli just doesn't want to. At first he'd been all right about it, apologizing and saying he wouldn't do it so much anymore. But more often he grows cross with Fíli, as though it's Fíli's fault. It's enough to make Fíli dig his heels in and refuse just on the damn principle of the thing. "The only thing that's ever wrong with me," Kíli snaps, without thinking, and without care as to who might hear. "You. It's always you, you and your damned rules and your constant worrying."

He thinks he might have been holding that particular grievance in for a while without having known it. It's certainly a relief as soon as he says it.

"Even away from home... I'm beginning to wonder if it's not all just an excuse to hide your cowardice."

They are going to attract attention now, and Kíli doesn't give a damn. Let the entire town hear, if they like, if that's what it takes to get Fíli's attention. "Would you keep your damn voice down?" Fíli hisses. He sets his ale down on the table a bit harder than he'd intended and stands up. "If you're going to go on about it like this, then fine. Let's go."

He doesn't even wait for his brother to speak before he storms off--not really 'storms,' though, more close to 'walks away at a quicker stride than usual and with a bit of anger behind it'. Pushing his way past the other patrons on the stairs isn't very hard; his smaller stature makes it easy to wend his way around the few people there are.

Once he gets to the room that he and Kíli are sharing, he pulls the key from his pocket and shoves it into the lock; it takes a few tries for him to finally open the damn door, but he does manage it.

Damn his brother. Damn him for acting like this--for acting like a spoiled child who throws a fit when he doesn't get his way.

Regardless of what might be going on between them, Kíli is still his younger brother, and Fíli needs to make sure he keeps the bastard under control. Kíli follows his brother, any satisfaction he might have felt at getting Fíli to relent lost in the frustration that's boiled over, now, and will take more than getting Fíli to their room to calm him. He's found he has things to say, now, and by Mahal, he will say them.

"Why should it matter if anyone hears," he scoffs, and for good measure he slams the door shut behind him, satisfied that it rattles the frame a bit with the force of the swing. "You see? That's what I meant. Always so cautious, always worried. No one here cares, and you act as though we're still hiding from Mother. Unless that's the only way I'm of any interest to you; when you can't have me." Crossing his arms over his chest, and fixing Fíli with a sour look, he says, "Or maybe I was right when I said it was cowardice." "You don't know a damn thing about what I think," Fíli growls. "It's none of their business what goes on between us, and it's nothing to do with being worried. So don't you dare call me a coward when you know good and well why I insist on being careful when we're at home." He gives Kíli a hard glare and doesn't back away when his brother moves closer. "You're simply acting like a damn child. Never thinking about what other people might want or might not want, only thinking about yourself." Kíli is possessed of the same hot temper that makes his mother such a force to be reckoned with when she gets angry. Unfortunately he's never learned to have quite as much control over it as she has. He has his hands clenched into fists as soon as Fíli starts speaking, and with the last, his already weak hold on his anger breaks and he swings without thinking. His fist connects with Fíli's jaw, sending him reeling.

"At least I don't hide from what I want," he spits. "You would still be lying to yourself, and to me, if I hadn't been selfish enough to pursue what we both wanted, you bastard!" Fíli manages to brace himself against the end of the bed, and he doesn't stand up right away; he wipes at his mouth, feeling at his jaw and wincing in pain. His brother has a temper, certainly, but Fíli is no weakling, either.

He straightens up and turns back to face Kíli. "No, you certainly don't hide anything," he says, "and you don't give a damn as long as you get what you want." Fíli moves closer and brings a fist up and swinging it wide to hit Kíli in the side of his head and knocks him over.

"If you would ever think about other people and not be so damn selfish...!" "I don't seem to recall you complaining at the time," Kíli murmurs, his head ringing from the blow. But he doesn't let that stop him; he's up on his feet in a moment, and he charges at Fíli, tackling him with enough force to knock him into the chest of drawers behind them.

Fíli shoves him back, but Kíli, despite his leaner build, is not one to be trifled with, and he doesn't let Fíli have that space for long.

They've fought before, as brothers are wont to do, but not quite like this; not with so much intent behind their blows. Kíli knees Fíli in the stomach-- missing his intended target, but it still makes Fíli double over, so it's a victory anyway-- Fíli catches Kíli in the mouth and Kíli tastes blood when the inside of his cheek is cut on his teeth.

The room is a mess by the time Kíli slams his brother into a wall-- and Fíli's head makes a satisfying thud when he hits, too-- and pins him there. They're both panting, and battered, and Kíli has every intention of leaving Fíli the worse of them, now that he has him pinned down.

Except he has Fíli's wrists in a bruising grip, pressed against the rough wood of the walls, Fíli is struggling to get loose, cursing at him in Khuzdul, with a line of blood down the left side of his face were Kíli had opened up a cut over his eyebrow, and even cursing and struggling, he's still panting.

Instead of hitting him again, Kíli kisses him, hard and unyielding, and demanding, tainted with the metallic tang of blood from Kíli's cut cheek. Fíli grabs him by the front of his shirt and drags him in even closer, biting at Kíli's lip, his shoulder hitting the wall hard but he ignores the pain. Instead he delivers a punch up into Kíli's stomach, taking advantage of Kíli's momentary loss of control to spin him around and shove him face first against the wall, pinning one of Kíli's arms over his head, the other against his back. Kíli would tell his brother he's a cheating bastard, if he could speak. He hooks a leg around behind Fíli's, and slams his head back hoping to catch Fíli in the face. He does, if the feeling of teeth against his scalp is any indication before Fíli topples back, tripping over Kíli's foot. Kíli has him on the floor in a moment, and when Fíli tries to sit up, Kíli shoves him back down, holding his wrists with just one hand. The other he fists in Fíli's hair and pulls him up slightly to kiss him again, with the same bruising force as before.

If Fíli won't fight fair, neither will he. Fíli smacks his forehead against Kíli's and immediately lifts his knee, shoving his foot hard into Kíli's hip to try to force them to roll over. He manages to get Kíli under him, but it's only for a moment before Kíli uses his own weight to keep them going. But Fíli has his hands free now, and he shoves Kíli back by his shoulders in order to try to get back to his feet and gain the upper hand.

Kíli, however, seems to have other ideas. Kíli goes back when Fíli pushes him, but he has hold of Fíli's tunic, and he drags his brother up with him, keeping Fíli off balance. He hears the cloth tearing as he pulls Fíli back towards the wall. For the second time, he pins Fíli to the wall, this time beside the bed.

He's grinning, wild and predatory, even through all the aches, and he must look a sight with blood staining his teeth, and his hair loose. Fíli is in a similar state of dishevelment, and it only serves to make Kíli grin wider. His blood is pounding in his ears and he isn't sure whether he wants to keep pummeling his brother, or kiss him again--

But Fíli doesn't give him the chance to make up his mind, shoving hard at him, sending them both toppling onto the bed.

Kíli laughs then, looking at Fíli looming over him. "This is new," he says, breathing hard. He grabs Fíli's hair again to hold him where he is, though it might be wiser to let him go, as he's managed to wind up in a prime position to have his teeth knocked in... He's never been accused of being particularly wise though, so when he drags himself up to bite at Fíli's lips, it's with the knowledge that he's probably going to regret it. Fíli lets the kiss happen for a few moments, holding Kíli's other hand down against the mattress. He digs his blunt nails into the flesh of Kíli's wrist, his other hand pushing down against Kíli's shoulder. Though Kíli is right that this isn't a usual way they go about things, Fíli can't be bothered to respond. He shoves harder at his brother, bringing his knee up and pressing it against Kíli's chest while Fíli pulls his fist back for another blow; Kíli grabs at him before it connects, however, and the momentum sends them both toppling off the bed and into the small space between it and the wall. Kíli ends up on top of Fíli, with Fíli's face pressed into the floor. "This is more like it," he pants, as he tries to right himself enough to press his knee into Fíli's back. He grabs one of Fíli's arms, and twists it around behind him as he leans down over his brother.

"I think I like you like this," he says, scraping his teeth over Fíli's ear. He digs his nails into Fíli's arm, as Fíli had done to him. He shifts until he's straddling Fíli, and he rolls his hips against Fíli's ass as he bites at the side of Fíli's jaw. Fíli groans and shifts under Kíli's weight, but he can barely move due to the constricted space and his brother on top of him. His arm is in pain but there's the slow burn of pleasure that rolls through him at the same time. He can't help it, even if he tries to tell himself he doesn't want this, he doesn't, but Kíli is warm and close and Fíli can feel himself start to harden, guilt and pleasure twisting around each other in the pit of his stomach.

"Kíli..." he says, barely managing to get the word out. The hand not behind his back is trapped underneath him; Fíli tries to use it to gain a little leverage but Kíli just pins it down over his head. "Kíli, please!" Kíli releases the arm he has pinned at Fíli's back only so he can pin it on the floor instead. "Please what?" he growls against the back of Fíli's neck. He's drunk on the adrenaline from the fight, and hard from it, too.

He moves against Fíli again, the friction and the heat between them making him moan into Fíli's skin. He doesn't touch Fíli otherwise, though he could hold Fíli's wrists with one hand, and use the other to reach under his brother, if he wanted too. But if Fíli wants selfish, he'll give him selfish. "Just fucking...nngh--" Fíli says, words breaking off into a groan. He lifts his hips up and back, shoving hard against Kíli. But Kíli, the bastard, moves away from when Fíli tries to; and when he tries to straighten back out Kíli holds him where he is. It's almost humiliating, being completely at his younger brother's mercy, even more so when a small part of Fíli admits that he rather likes it far more than he ought to do. "Just fucking do it, damn you," Fíli finally grits out through his teeth. Kíli grins to himself at Fíli's words, but he doesn't bother continuing with his teasing, as entertaining as it might be. He doesn't have the patience for it, not when he's harder than he can remember being in a long while, and he has Fíli so enticingly on display in front of him.

He pulls at Fíli's trousers, rough and desperate, and he fumbles with the laces just until they're loose enough for him to pull them halfway down Fíli's thighs. He takes even less time with his own, only going so far as to free himself.

The idea of taking Fíli completely is tempting, but he doesn't have the patience for that any more than he does more taunting at the moment. So when he's against Fíli again, he's satisfied with sliding between his thighs.

He does at least have the decency to reach under Fíli and wrap practiced fingers around him, stroking him in time with his own thrusts. Fíli gasps with relief when Kíli finally, finally has his hand on him; he's on his knees now, Kíli pressed close behind and thrusting hard against him, and Mahal take him but it's so damn good, and he reaches around behind him and pulls Kíli even closer, pulls him forward. Kíli chuckles against his ear but he sounds as breathless and as desperate as Fíli himself feels right now.

He needs more and he shoves back, but not in a way designed to throw Kíli off the way it had been before; he wants to make Kíli give him more, give it to him harder and faster and he wants to hear Kíli; he wants to know that Kíli is just as overwhelmed and consumed by this as Fíli is. His breath comes in ragged pants that are nearly in time with their own rhythm, and Fíli's head feels light and dizzy and he can't get nearly enough of it. Kíli obliges Fíli's silent requests, and as he picks up the pace, curses and half formed sentences fall from his lips, some in Khuzdul, some not, his voice ragged and breaking on low moans and gasps.

He's deaf to anything but the noises he pulls from Fíli, and the sound of flesh meeting flesh as they move and the tight feeling low in his belly is better than good. He's torn between chasing that feeling, going until he's seeing white and left spent, and slowing down, to draw out the delicious burn and pull of it.

Fíli digging his nails into his hip, a growled "Don't you dare," when he does start to slow his pace, and his own impatience decide that for him, and he thrusts against Fíli harder again, rythym erratic and stuttering now.

Not before Fíli, though. "Come on, Fíli," he gasps in his brother's ear. He bites at the tender flesh below his ear. "Come on. Let's hear you scream." Fíli starts to speak, but he stutters and his words become a long, incoherent moan as he falters and nearly loses his balance; Kíli holds him up, though, holds him through his release, his entire body feeling as though he's completely lost all control and everything inside feels wrung out in such a damn good way, and he's drunk on lust and the feel and taste of his brother around him everywhere, and he spills out warm and sticky seed all over Kíli's hand.

Fíli wants to collapse but he can't, he can't go anywhere just yet; Kíli is still there, still hard, and Fíli looks at him over his shoulder, and though it's an awkward angle, he kisses Kíli as best he can, trying to pull him over the edge as well. Kíli kisses him back, and that is the last push he needs to bring him off, his body going taut as a bowstring, every nerve in him set alight as a shout gets stuck in his throat, then he's shaking and trembling and for a moment he does see white as he stripes the insides of Fíli's thighs with his release.

He's light headed, out of breath, and starting to feel the beating he'd taken when he lets Fíli fall to the side. Kíli collapses along side him in a worn out heap.

"So... do I win then?" he pants, with a smug, if tired grin, knowing full well he's inviting another punch to the face. Fíli gives him a tired laugh and a half-hearted punch to his shoulder. "You wish." Though he wants nothing more than to fall asleep right here and now, he at least has the foresight to pull Kíli up by his arm and drag them both into bed. Fíli waits for Kíli to settle in, huffing a laugh when his brother ends up lying half on top of him. It isn't long before sleep pulls Fíli under.

[misadventuresunderthemountain]

Thorin/Dis, in Erebor

Thorin/Dís, AU where Erebor was never lost. PWP, hard R. ~2k. (warning for incest.)

They're meant for guests, and far enough away from prying ears that Thorin doesn't quite worry as much as he would if they met in either one of their own rooms. He slips into the room perhaps a little later than what they had agreed on, at their brief exchange after dinner... Yet Dís isn't here yet. Apparently her inability to be punctual didn't only extend to ceremonies and dinners she wished to avoid.

Dís sighs as the dwarves nearby drone on and on about--something or other, she's not quite sure what. She hasn't been paying attention to them for some time now, but surely they must be finished with their argument. This is the only way from her chambers to where she and Thorin were supposed to meet tonight, and she certainly doesn't want anyone to see the princess of Erebor sneaking around the halls at night. People might talk, or start prying, and that could be dangerous indeed. It's another several long moments before they finally walk in the opposite direction, still going on about what she thinks is a conversation about rock stability and ease of building materials. Miners. Not that the subject of stone and mortar doesn't interest her--she is a dwarf, after all--but there are more important things she needs to attend to right now. As soon as the hallway is clear, she gathers her skirts in her hands and rushes across toward the room where she's certain Thorin is already waiting for her. Sure enough, there he is, his back half-turned towards the doorway as she enters. He's changed from his formal attire into a simpler tunic and breeches. As for herself she makes no secret of preferring the plain kirtle and bodice to the heavier gowns of the court that she's required to wear at any and all formal functions. Like this, they can shed the trappings of royalty--or nearly all of them--and just be with each other. Thorin and Dís  nothing more. "I'm sorry I'm late," she says quietly. "I was...delayed by several blockheads who decided to argue about this or that inanity right in the middle of the corridor."

Thorin can't help but smile at her. "And to think I had begun to wonder if you considered me an unpleasant engagement you hoped to avoid if you kept me waiting long enough." She had managed just that more than once with several of the suitors their mother had tried to nudge Dís towards. He reaches out and takes her hand, pulling her to him, and he kisses her softly, reverently. It's taken time... Time for him to stop questioning this at every turn, and he still hasn't managed to stop entirely, but he tries to save such thoughts for when he is alone. Time with Dís is meant for them, not his own fears.

She kisses him back with a smile on her lips. "You surely seem to think so little of yourself, Thorin," she says, and there's barely any space between them. The sweet, slow fire of want begins to grow within her at his touch and she craves more. His thoughts are written clear across his face as if he'd spoken them aloud. "You cannot possibly think that any of them compare to you." She wraps a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him down for a searing, hard kiss, dropping her other hand to his waist to tug him closer by the loose belt he wears. She kisses her way across his jaw, upwards until her lips brush against his ear. "How could I want anyone else, when I have you? My king?" Her voice is soft and low as she says the words.

Thorin's breath catches at her words, and he finds any dark thoughts that may have begun to creep up on him are chased away by the heat spreading through him, which he doesn't doubt was Dís' intention. "And you do have me, for what is a king without his queen?"  As soon as he says it, he realizes it is far too easy to imagine Dís at his side, when he is eventually crowned. Much, much to easy, and much too tempting. And perhaps a fantasy they could indulge in, at least for the night, he thinks, as he tugs at the laces of her bodice-- thank Mahal she isn't in the gown she'd worn to dinner, they would be here until dawn.

She lifts his tunic up, slow and teasing, tracing her fingers over each inch of newly-revealed flesh. "I would have thee, if thou wouldst take me as well," she says, reverting to the more formal form in Khuzdul that was rarely ever used. Finally she pulls off his tunic as his own deft fingers make quick work of the laces of her bodice. Dís moves backwards, pulling him with her until her knees hit the side of the sole table in the room. "But a king doth crown his queen, for it is his right alone to do so." She grins at him. "I would cleave to thee, as thy sister and queen." With that, she pulls him down on top of her, sealing their lips together once again, slips her tongue inside his mouth to meet his own. Would that she could have him like this at all times, to not have to hide and pretend that it was a shameful act between them. She loves Thorin with her entire being; Mahal only knows what she would do for him.

Thorin shudders, every word sending sparks of want through him. At the moment he only wonders why he had resisted her for as long as he had, when the time could have been so much better spent.  With her bodice out of the way, and his own tunic gone, he pulls at her blouse, needing to feel her bare skin against his. He only moves away from her long enough to drag the garment over her head, and then he's on her again, pressed chest to chest, his hands splayed over the fever-hot flesh of her back, and nothing but the taste of her on his tongue.

Dís pulls her kirtle out of the way, parting her legs so that he can settle between them. She twines one of her legs over his and runs her hands across his back; though she cannot see them, she swears she can almost feel the ink beneath his skin where it writes out the secret words of their people. As her hands move down, she feels him reach between her legs and she arches her back at the sudden burst of lust that comes with his touch. He's relentless, determined, and she chuckles breathlessly as she fumbles at the laces of his trousers.

"And what do you find so amusing?" Thorin asks, beard scraping over Dís' shoulder as he speaks. He easily slides two fingers into her, stroking and pressing in the ways he's learned she likes over the past weeks. He traces the bold lines over her shoulders with his tongue, and by know he knows every mark by heart, every sharp angle, and every curve.  He knows every bit of her by heart, and yet he still feels as though he could spend a lifetime exploring her and never tire of it. He wants her like this all the time, no matter how foolish a want it is.  And Mahal curse her, she is taking far too long with those laces.

Dís moans, her hands stuttering for a moment before she returns to her task. "It's nothing," she says, finally shoving his trousers off, "except that you seem to be very...single-minded right now." At that she flips them over so that she straddles his hips, his fingers still inside her, and she takes him in hand, stroking along his length and brushing her thumb over the head. It hasn't been long since they first came together like this, in passion and guilt and desire that had been building between them for longer than either of them had realized. It seemed an eternity afterwards that her brother kept to his silent despair, worried that he'd forced his own wants upon her--she'd convinced him, in the end, but it had taken so long. Now though... Now they have this; now they have hands and heat and flesh and the shared breathless moans and panting against one another's mouths as they bring each other to completion. It doesn't matter how they manage it so long as it's the two of them, together, as it should be. Dís spreads her fingers across his chest, feeling his heart beating fast, slowly trailing them this way and that as she continues to work him to full hardness with her other hand. There's a sheen of sweat that covers his skin, and she loves seeing him like this; how he gives himself over to her entirely, trusting her like he trusts so few others. She feels complete only with him, and he with her, she knows. Dís longs to be his in every way possible, though she knows that some ways are forever closed to them.

Thorin would that they could be like this without fear of repercussions, without wondering whether they're going to be discovered this time. He avoids thinking that they should never have been like this in the first place; they are, and selfish as it may be he would not change it, not now. He loves Dís with everything he has, knows she, and only she could ever hold such a place in his heart, and that would not change if they were to decide to end this... affair. But Dís' clever hands are better at chasing away such thoughts than his own mind and he is glad of it, letting himself get lost in the sensation of her touch and the heat of her, and the gasps and pants that are the only sounds in the room.  "Dís," he says, through a moan. "Dís, please--" the plea is lost in a gasp brought by a twist of Dis' hand.

The heat is building deep in her belly; she pushes against his fingers and strokes him faster, harder. Their mingled breaths grow ever more ragged and she tangles her free hand in his hair, traces across his shoulder. He runs a hand down her back, tracing along her spine to settle against her waist. "Thorin," she pants, her hips moving to meet his as they near climax--it hits her first, unexpected, and her stomach jerks suddenly and she's dizzy with heat and white fire that wraps itself around her every single limb, and she feels the wetness between her thighs where his fingers slide out of her. But it's not more than a few more moments before he follows her over, spilling his own release across her hand. She lays her head on his chest, breathing hard; they both are, but they try their best to keep quiet. It's an unspoken rule, one that they didn't need to set down. They just know.

[misadventuresunderthemountain]

Never One to Refuse a Challenge (rule 63 Fili/Kili, femslash)

PWP. NC-17 like whoa. ~8000 words. warning for incest, mentions of consent issues (only theoretical in the context of serious miscommunications).

-- Kíli heaves out a sigh once they're safely away from Dwalin. If they had been any more distracted... Though she finds that coming so close to having been seen doesn't quite unnerve her as it should. In fact, she'd dare say it almost excites her. She's always been reckless, and had a fondness for danger. Part of the fun in doing things she wasn't supposed to had always been the possibility of being caught, and the thrill when she wasn't. That probably contributes to her pulling Fíli into the first room she sees, and bolting the door behind them; it's one of the more rarely used storerooms, and thus abandoned, but the hallway they'd just come from nearly always has people passing by. Which doesn't stop Kíli looking at her sister like she wants to devour her. Fíli finds herself pushed back against the door; she can barely see in the room with barely any light shining, but the look on Kíli's face makes her shudder. She grabs Kíli's wrist and pulls her close, kissing her hard enough that Kíli's teeth smack against her own, Fíli's lower lip caught between them, and she tastes the metallic tang of her own blood. Somehow it only makes her need more, and Fíli's hands move through Kíli's hair, holding her head in place so that Fíli can kiss her more deeply. Kíli nearly pulls back at the taste of blood, but Fíli holds her in place. It can't have been serious, then, and there's no reason to put a halt to things over it. She slides a leg between Fíli's, their bodies flush against each other, and Kíli wonders if now might be the time to tell Fíli everything she wants, or if they should leave it at this, not press too far, when they've only just started this... whatever this is, or will be. Then Fíli tugs at her hair and even the vague notions of taking this slowly are chased from her mind. She wants, needs, and Fíli seems more than willing to give. "Say you're mine," she mutters into Fíli's mouth. Kíli shivers at Fíli's fingers teasing over her skin, and the way she moves against her. She drags Fíli's hand up to the V of her open tunic, a silent command for her to touch. Her own hands go to Fíli's thighs, and she scrapes her nails up them, almost wishing there wasn't cloth in the way, but at the same time enjoying the feeling of the rough material under her fingers, and no doubt it must drag against Fíli's skin. "I've dreamed of this," she murmurs against Fíli's ear. "How it would feel. How you'd taste." Fíli slips one finger inside of Kíli's tunic, a second following shortly after; her hand gets caught on the edge of the cloth, though, and she tugs it down Kíli's shoulder in frustration. When Fíli runs her thumb underneath Kíli's breast she smiles at the gasp it elicits from her sister. "I've thought about it too," she breathes. "About all the things I'd do to you. That you'd do to me..." Fíli sucks in a sharp breath at the pleasure-pain of Kíli's nails as they drag the rough material of Fíli's trouses along her thighs. She lifts her own knee till it's trapped firmly between Kíli's thighs, and she can feel Kíli against her, the tightness of Kíli's pants doing little to conceal anything from Fíli's touch. With only a slight hesitation, Fíli presses tiny kisses along the underside of Kíli's chin, down to lave her tongue against the hollow of Kíli's throat; she keeps going further and futher downward, even more slowly than before, taking her time so that Kíli might stop her just in case. The pressure of Fíli's knee against her makes Kíli groan, and she rocks forward, craving more. She gasps at the feeling of Fíli's tongue on her skin, and murmurs what amounts to encouragement. "What is it you'd like to do to me?" she asks, when she finds the words. She pulls Fíli's tunic from her belt and finally gets her hands on skin. She continues the rake of her nails up Fíli's ribs, to her breasts. She's no gentler there, when she drags her fingers over them, and she knows her hands are rough, calloused from her work and her training. But neither of them have ever been soft, or gentle, and certainly not with each other. Why should this be any different? Fíli leans her head forward, licking her way up along the space between Kíli's breasts, exhaling softly against the same spot, grinning a little when she feels Kíli shiver against her. Pulling away, she spins them so that Kíli is the one who's backed up against the door, and Fíli presses herself flush against her sister's body. Then she lifts her head up and kisses the side of Kíli's lips, murmuring against her skin. "Do you trust me, Kíli?" She slides a hand down along Kíli's side, one by one slipping her fingers under the waistband of Kíli's trousers; then Fíli pulls back, ignoring a groan of protest from Kíli, which is sharply cut off when Fíli's hand moves down, further and further, to press against Kíli between her legs, feeling the wetness already there. She bites a little at Kíli's lower lip at the same time she presses her fingers up, dragging slowly against her tender flesh, loving the sounds it causes Kíli to make. "Of course I tru-ust--" Kíli stumbles over her words and then is simply cut off entirely by a moan. She grabs at Fíli's shoulders as she thrusts against her hand. She digs her nails into Fíli's shoulders and hisses through her teeth when Fíli keeps up with her torturously slow movements. "Damn it, Fí- ah, Fuck! would you stop teasing." Fíli chuckles, bumping her chin against Kíli's jaw. "Well, since you asked so nicely..." She tugs hard at Kíli's wrists and pushes her to the ground, her hand going under Kíli's head so she doesn't hurt herself. Stretching herself out on top of her sister, Fíli hitches Kíli's right leg over her own hip, Fíli's right knee bent along the side of their bodies; Fíli rocks her hips forward, and the movement presses her cunt against Kíli's own, the friction between them sending a dizzying wave of lust through Fíli's entire body. She groans, dropping her head and she can't help but to take Kíli's breast into her mouth, biting gently at her nipple as she rolls her hips again. It's delicious, all the heat between them and finally Fíli has her sister there, right where she's always wanted her. And she can't get enough. Kíli thinks she might already be seeing stars. She meets the roll of Fíli's hips with her own, and it takes a moment, but they settle into a rhythm and Kíli's head spins. Her breath catches in her throat at Fíli's mouth on her, and her hands scrabble over the floor, desperate to find something to hold onto to ground herself. Eventually she's clawing at Fíli's back, demanding more, needing something, because she thinks she might go mad from the pressure and the heat, and the lust. She buries her fingers in Fíli's hair and drags her back up into a searing kiss, and her lungs burn with the need to breathe, but she has no intention of letting Fíli go until she's tasted every part of her. Fíli holds Kíli's thigh with her hand, bringing them closer together as she rolls her hips, her cunt pressed hard against Kíli's as they move; she has her other hand pressed against the floor to help increase their rhythm, going faster and harder and she can barely see straight, and then her eyes close when Kíli takes her mouth over, lips against lips and her tongue licking over Fíli's teeth. "Come on," she pants, "oh, Kíli, you look--nngh, I wish you could see how gorgeous you look right now--" And she does, all flushed and with a sheen of sweat on her skin, breathing hard and fast, arching her back as she bucks her hips up, one pale breast exposed from the tunic that's only half-off of her. Then Fíli moves her left hand to where it's in between them, adjusting their trousers to help increase the friction before she slides her hand to grab Kíli's ass and pull her in close, pull her against Fíli, hard, rubbing them both to where it's almost more pain than pleasure, but only just not. Kíli's breath comes as more choked off sobs. Her legs tremble from being so close, yet not quite being tipped over the edge, and she can hardly think beyond the ache of it. The pain that borders on being too much only heightens everything, and she never wants it to stop. Fíli says she's gorgeous, but Fíli... Fíli is a goddess in that moment, with her kiss-bruised lips parted on a moan, her eyes so intently focused on Kíli, and her hair coming loose from its braid to spill over her shoulders. Kíli thinks she'll forsake any other deity, for she's found the only being she intends to worship. Fíli's hair brushes over her exposed breast as they move, and that feather-light touch on fevered, over-sensitive skin has her keening out Fíli's name as she practically crushes Fíli against her with the leg hooked over her hip, finally, finally getting the release she'd been after. She arches up against Fíli, the cry of her name turning into a whimper, because the pain and the pleasure are still being mixed, and it's too much, but she wants more, wants the pain as much as the pleasure. She's almost sorry when she starts to come down. But all of her is still trembling, and Fíli is still moving, and every miniscule touch is like a bolt of lightning running through her, keeping her breath hitching, and she's not sure whether she wants Fíli to follow her over the edge now to spare her from it, or if she wants it to go on, and on, until she's so wrung out she won't be able to move for days. Fíli drinks in the sight of Kíli as she comes--the flush on her skin, the choked off cry as she says  Fíli's name, the way she clenches her thighs around Fíli and traps her close, but not nearly close enough. Fíli keeps moving, the building pleasure and heat and tightness deep down inside her getting stronger and rising with every breath that catches in Kíli's throat. Fíli bites at her sister's neck, leaving her mark where it'll only barely be hidden by her clothes, so Kíli will know and remember every single moment of this. And then it hits her, her body seizing up and her release comes to her with a hard shudder; she groans and Kíli's name barely manages to make it out of her throat at the end. She collapses with her head in the crook of Kíli's neck, her hand coming up to absently stroke through Kíli's hair as she waits for it all to subside. If she had her choice, she'd never move from this spot again. Kíli pants into her sister's hair as she tries to regain her wits. "Fuck," she says, voice shaky even to her own ears. She feels Fíli huff out what might be a vague laugh, and for a while after that the only sound in the room is of their breathing as it slowly returns to normal. She traces nonsense patterns onto her sister's back while they lie there, and Kíli finds she really has no desire to move, despite the hard floor starting to hurt her shoulder blades. "Remind me to pull you into storerooms more often in the future," Kíli says, when her mind is clear, and she's no longer trembling. Then, the door rattles, and Kíli is infinitely glad she had the foresight to lock it, because she has been caught in compromising situations before, and she doubts she could talk her way out of this the way she could stealing extra food when she was younger (she still steals extra food; now she just has the sense not to get caught). She assumes whoever it is will not want to bother with having to go fetch the keys and will move on, thus leaving her to bask with Fíli... "Why is this locked?" comes Dwalin's voice, as he bangs on the door. "Bangin' on it isn't going to help," says another voice. Is that  Bofur? "We'll just go get the keys--" "The lock on this side's broke. Which means someone's inside." Fíli's eyes go wide as she stares in horror at first Kíli, then at the door. She scrambles to her feet, as does her sister, and they hurriedly straighten their clothes--Fíli smoothes down Kíli's hair and pulls her tunic back up over her shoulder, and Kíli adjusts Fíli's trousers and brushes back stray strands of hair. "Should we open it first?" Fíli hisses at Kíli. They have to think fast to come up with some explanation for what the two of them are doing in a *locked storage closet*.... "I don't know!" Kíli whispers back. How were they going to explain what they'd been doing in here? There's another loud bang on the door, and Kíli's nerves can't take this. "Just... Follow my lead," she says to Fíli, though she has no idea what lead she means, because she has no idea what she's going to say. She only knows that they don't have time to debate over the best course of action. She opens the door before Dwalin can pound on it again-- and she tries not to grimace as she walks, because she's still feeling the aftermath of the sustained friction. "Mister Dwalin," she says, brightly, with as innocent of a grin as she can manage. "I mighta known it would be you two," Dwalin says, crossing his arms, and giving them a disapproving look. "And what, pray tell, were you doing in there?" And he looks behind Kíli, as though he's looking for any damage to anything on the shelves behind them. Kíli opens her mouth... and finds that she can't come up with a suitable excuse, so she ends up with her mouth opening and closing while no sound comes out. Bofur looks them both up and down, and there's something to his look that doesn't sit well with Kíli, but he only smiles and says to Dwalin, "Probably hiding from their mam and their chores." "Yes!" Fíli says, latching onto the excuse. "That's exactly what it was. We were practicing earlier, and then when we remembered about all of our chores, we...skived off...a bit." She has the presence of mind to look sheepish, shrugging a little. Dwalin, however, looks doubtful. "And why in the blazes was the door locked--"He stops, rubbing his forehead and sighing. "Never mind. You know what, I dinnae want to know. Get on out of here, the both of you." Fíli and Kíli can't bolt past them quickly enough, and Fíli thinks she hears Dwalin mutter something about "lasses who are more trouble than they're worth" before she and Kíli round the next corner. "That...was a bit too close," Fíli says when they're a good distance away. She starts laughing, mostly out of nerves, and slings an arm around Kíli's shoulder. "That's what makes it fun," Kíli laughs, but her heart is pounding and even she thinks it had been just a little too close. She loops an arm around Fíli's waist, and shoves lightly at her as they walk. "Not regretting anything are you?" Fíli looks at her sister, a small smile playing on her lips. "No," she says, kissing Kíli's temple. "Can't really say that I am."

[misadventuresunderthemountain]

A King and His Crown (Fili/Kili)

PWP, hard R. ~2100 words. Post-BoFA where everyone lives. Warning for incest.

Kíli wanders the halls of Erebor at night; a habit he'd picked up when nightmares of Mirkwood had made it hard to sleep in the time immediately following the reclaiming of their kingdom. Tonight he wanders because he had woken up alone, a rare occurrence any more, and he thinks he knows where to find his missing bedmate.

[misadventuresunderthemountain]

currently under construction, please check back soon!

-Kelly and Lauren