Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or actors from The Hobbit. Everything belongs to the great and powerful J.R.R. Tolkien.

Thank you to everyone for the lovely reviews! And just as a forewarning, this chapter is quite a bit...smuttier or more graphic than any of the others in my stories. Just to let everyone know, just in case.

Chapter XXVI - Thorin & Bilbo

Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain and direct descendent of Durin the Deathless himself, was the most handsome dwarf in all of Middle-Earth.

Or, at least, this was what his husband thought. And considering the view he'd had for the past few hours, Bilbo was pretty confident that his opinion was all that mattered on that particular subject. The Yule celebrations always brought out a softer side to his husband, and Bilbo always made sure to take full advantage of Thorin's attentive moods and increased libido. Bilbo giggled quietly to himself, eyes moving across the room to watch the door that his husband had disappeared through five minutes earlier. They had been in the middle of their second round of lovemaking when a loud thump had sounded on the adjoining door between their primary bedchambers and Frodo's rooms. Despite being more than a little grumbly about the interruption, Thorin had wasted on time in throwing a towel around his waist and checking on their youngest nephew.

"What's wrong, mizimith?"

Frodo had whimpered a quiet, "I think I burned my fingers on the fireplace. They really hurt. And feel kinda melty."

"Well, then how about we take a closer look at them?"

Bilbo could still hear the two talking through the open doorway, his husband soothing Frodo's protests about Óin's salves being icky and always sticking to the bed sheets like a Brandywine leech. For hobbits in the Shire, there was nothing more attractive in a potential spouse than their ability to care for and love their children. Thorin was never more attractive in Bilbo's eyes than when he was being loving and paternal to their three nephews and the other children in their life. Be it combing Kíli's wild mess of hair, reading a dwarven bedtime story to Frodo, or bumping foreheads with Fíli before a particularly long day of Open Court, Bilbo absolutely adored Thorin when he was showing affection to their precious boys. And Thorin was never sweeter than when he was trying to help Dís with her daily chores or braid his little sister's hair into a favored style that only Drís had done in their childhood.

"Are his fingers alright?"

"Just slight burns along the tips and along the meat of his left palm," said Thorin as he returned and closed the connecting door. "I've warned Frodo a dozen times not to play with that poker, but I think he's finally learned his lesson now."

"Should I call on Óin?"

"There's no need to wake him at this late hour. I've already applied some of the salve that Óin sneaks into my desk drawers. The pain tonic should help him sleep, too," assured Thorin. He removed the towel from around his waist and returned both bottles to their rightful places in his office. "I swear, those three boys are going to be the death of me one of these days. It's almost like trouble's attracted to them."

Bilbo snickered. "I have no doubts about who they get that from, âzyungel."

A quiet rustling sound came from Thorin's office, which Bilbo could just barely see through a side doorway. He openly ogled his husband's inked back and buttocks, dark eyes admiring the intricate black designs that twisted all around Thorin's upper arms, thighs, torso, and nether regions. Most of them were Khuzdul runes that spoke of the Dwarf-King's victories in battle and the reclamation of his homeland, but the ones along his spine and nether regions were special. The former represented his family members and closest friends while the latter were a permanent, visual tribute to Thorin's chosen mate. And despite the hobbit's personal aversion to inkings on his own body, Bilbo would never tire of looking at the ones that decorated his husband's granite-like physique.

"I can feel your eyes, umzam."

Dwarves tended to be much more accepting of nudity than hobbits, and Thorin was no exception to this rule. The Dwarf-King was confident in his own skin and never failed to use that confidence in the seduction of his shyer husband. Where Bilbo was soft and plump, Thorin was hard and muscular; where Bilbo was hairless and pale-skinned, Thorin was extra-hairy and covered in scars or callouses. Aside from their general shortness compared to other races, dwarves and hobbits could not have been more different when it came to physical appearance. Even their bodily needs were vastly different, with hobbits eating an average of seven meals a day compared to the dwarven two or three, an issue that had come up several times on the journey to Erebor.

As all had learned very quickly, it was much easier for a hobbit to starve to death than a dwarf. There was a good reason why hobbits were so devoted to farming and rarely left the Shire, as Bilbo's protruding ribs and sunken cheekbones had clearly shown to anyone with eyes and a lick of sense. Two meals a day was simply not enough to keep a hobbit sustained or remotely healthy; a fact that the Company had learned the hard way.

"My eyes like what they see," Bilbo sassed back. "And you can't blame them for being drawn to certain areas. Some things are hard to overlook, my King."

And by Yavanna, was Thorin ever hard to overlook in the equipment department. Not only did dwarves like their inkings, but they also highly favored genital piercings among their warrior populations. It had apparently been a prerequisite for marriage in the past and was still considered highly desirable even in the modern era. Bilbo had been quite shocked to see such strange piercings on the journey to Erebor, the Company's river bathing sessions leaving nothing to the imagination. Dwalin, Balin, Glóin, and Thorin had done nothing to cover theirs up and Bilbo had cringed at the thought of how painful such a procedure must've been for them.

"It's nice to know that hobbits can appreciate some of the finer aspects of dwarven culture."

"And here I thought I'd been appropriately vocal in my approval over the last twelve years," said Bilbo with a pout. "After all, âzyungel, you must have endured quite a bit of pain to enhance my pleasure."

"Six months of pissing into a cup was well worth it."

Bilbo giggled at this. He was always amused by how tough the warrior dwarves tried to act in regards to their piercings and inkings, all of which were extremely painful and tedious to receive from what Bilbo had witnessed in recent years. He really wasn't looking forward to Fíli and Kíli undergoing the process in the next few decades. However, Bilbo was never going to complain about Thorin's performance thanks to that neat lil' barbell down there.

"Oh, it was worth it," said Bilbo with a smirk.

The hobbit reached out and ran his fingertips over Thorin's thick girth, purposely teasing the straight barbell that passed through the dwarf's sensitive glans. Thorin moaned in pleasure, quickly crawling onto the massive bed and covering Bilbo with his larger form, calloused hands gripping the hobbit's ample hips so they could grind and thrust and kiss each other without any barriers. Both of them were panting and breathless within less than a minute, their bodies moving in a natural rhythm that had been cultivated over many years of lovemaking and marriage.

"Start where we left off?"

Bilbo curled his fingers in Thorin's long mane of hair, keeping him in place, and Thorin ran a large hand down his husband's spine, over his ass, and squeezed the hobbit-y plumpness that he had become so enamored with over the years. Bilbo stuttered, mouth opening in a gasp, and Thorin took full advantage, tongue tangling with Bilbo's as they continued to grind against each other. And then...

"By Mahâl, I think you get hairier every time we do this," gasped the hobbit. "It's like a forest down there. And back here."

"I thought you liked my hairiness," said Thorin as he mouthed and sucked at Bilbo's left ear. "Said it was manly and very appealing to a smooth bum. Like this one..."

"Ouch! Stop that, you silly dwarf!"

Thorin continued to pinch at his husband's plump bum and belly, enjoying the smacks and giggles and indignant hair-pulls that Bilbo kept bestowing upon his person. After so many years of marriage, playful romps and teasing frisks had become as common as passionate lovemaking in their sex life. Sometimes, the goofing around and play fighting and wrestling was more fun than the act itself.

"How can I stop when there's so much to play with?" Thorin rumbled, thick fingers poking at Bilbo's ribs and soft belly. "Those honey cakes have been making you even more sweet than before, sanghivasha."

Bilbo pulled at his husband's hair. "When did you become so corny?"

"The moment I married you, melekûn."

"Oh, so I'm to blame?" He flicked at Thorin's hook-like nose, but the dwarf was too preoccupied with Bilbo's hairless belly and hips to care. "Well, I think you were just hiding your corniness before—"

And there was no more talking after that, both Ereborian royals far too engrossed in their sexual escapades to care about anything outside their little bubble of blankets and sweaty warmth. Bilbo woke the next morning with a groan of satisfaction, his bum throbbing with a pleasant ache that he'd never grow tired of. A few quiet barks could be heard through the far wall, a clear sign that Frodo and the deerhounds were already awake and getting ready for first breakfast. With a giant yawn, Bilbo reached down and pulled the blankets more snugly around Thorin and himself.

It wouldn't due to have Frodo walk in on them buck naked again. That had been terribly embarrassing.

"My bum aches," Bilbo whispered. "And it's all your fault."

"I didn't hear you complaining last night," said Thorin with a lecherous smirk. "And if I recall correctly, I do believe you were begging for it."

"Kíli better not have stolen my cushion again."

Thorin just grunted in agreement, strong arms wrapping around Bilbo and depositing the small hobbit atop his chest. Perfectly content to use his husband as an extra-furry pillow, Bilbo stretched languidly and allowed himself to doze for another hour or so. Large piles of snow could be seen through the balcony windows, the winter wind howling against the Lonely Mountain's slopes. However, despite the frigid air outside, Bilbo was nice and toasty with Erebor's powerful fireplaces and Thorin's body heat to warm him.

"The boys are awake," mumbled Thorin an hour later.

"I don't care."

"You will when they charge in here."

"They know better."

"No, they really don't," sighed the King in defeat. "We should've trained them better. I blame myself."

"They're not dogs, Thorin."

"Kíli certainly looks like one sometimes. And Fíli looks like a cat."

Bilbo snuffled into Thorin's ridiculously ample chest hair. "And you look like a bear. How do you dwarves even manage to keep all of it so clean and braided? I don't think there's an inch of you that isn't covered in it."

"My nose."

"Nuh uh, there's hair inside of it. Doesn't count."

"Picky hobbit."

"I think I just heard the door open. Or am I imagining things again?"

"Nope."

Bilbo opened his eyes and came face-to-face with his youngest nephew, who was standing at the foot of their bed with a biscuit in his hand. Big blue eyes stared impassively at both of them. Frodo had long since grown accustomed to his uncles laying in bed together like this, their bodies as naked as the day they were born. So long as they pulled the covers up over themselves sometime in the night, then Frodo really didn't care and had no qualms about letting himself in after sunrise.

"My hand hurts."

"Come up here and let me see it," rumbled Thorin around a yawn.

Frodo climbed right into bed with them and held out his injured hand for inspection. The Dwarf-King drew the reddened appendage closer for a good look, dark eyes carefully assessing the damage as he turned Frodo's hand and fingers from side to side. After several seconds, he finally announced that they'd be paying Óin and the infirmary a visit first thing this morning.

"My life would've been so much easier if I'd had nieces instead of boys," groaned Thorin as he rolled Bilbo to the side and then stood up from the bed himself. "Well, c'mon, let's get you checked out, mizimith."

"It's not that bad," groused the little hobbit. "Just kinda red and melty..."

"Listen to your uncle, Frodo."

The faunt just grumbled in reply before disappearing into his rooms to get whatever he needed for the day. Meanwhile, Bilbo watched his husband struggle to get into a pair of pants and a simple tunic, which Bilbo had always thought was a particularly dashing ensemble on his ruggedly handsome lover. Thorin was muttering to himself the whole time about naïve faunts and dwarflings and the unpleasant predicaments they always managed to land themselves in. It was an endearing sight if Bilbo had ever seen one.

"Thorin?"

"Why won't this stupid thing just...what?"

"I love you."

The Dwarf-King stopped fighting with his boots for a second and turned to look at his lounging husband. Bilbo was smiling at Thorin with a look of complete adoration in his eyes, fingers absentmindedly fiddling with the marriage bead that rested behind his left ear. At that moment, Bilbo Baggins was the most beautiful being that Thorin had ever laid eyes on, and he wasn't afraid to admit it, either.

"And I you, âzyungel."

The pair smiled at each other, both of them content to just bask in the other's presence after a long night of lovemaking and a new day of minding their mountain together. And then they heard another crash and yelp from Frodo's rooms. Thorin ran a hand over his face in exasperation.

"I hate growth spurts."

And we're all done here. I wanted to end the series with a nice little drabble about Thorin and Bilbo, showcasing their marriage and how it's come along after at least a decade or so together. They're terribly domestic. And damn, that's the most romantic and smutty-ish thing I've ever written. Hopefully, it wasn't too terrible. If you want to know what dwarven tattoos or piercings look like, just google traditional Maori tattoos or apadravya piercings. Thank you to everyone for reading or reviewing. I hope all of you enjoyed reading these as much as I did writing them.

My hiatus begins as of this week, so no new stories for at least a couple months. And for those who asked what my surgeries are for: they're to save my hearing. I'm almost completely deaf in my left ear, so we're trying to save what hearing I have left and hopefully preserve my right ear for the rest of my life. I've had a lot of problems with my ears, hearing, and balance since birth, so this is nothing new and I'll be missing large chunks of my hair for the third time. We'll have to see how things go and hopefully I'll be able to write again in the future.

* There is now a direct sequel to An Unexpected Addition, called The Underdark, set in this same universe.