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Still can't quite believe that I've written dragon/hobbit smut, but there you go. I just hope no one ever looks at my google search history. Obviously though, the Hobbit isn't mine and I gain no money from this.
Smaug, the last Great Fire Drake of the North, snuffled as he shifted position. He took a breath and caught the scent of something he did not recognise. He breathed in again; it was still there. There was movement nearby, he could hear the ringing of his hoard as something that was not supposed to be here searched his treasure.
The movement in itself would not be unusual. There were animals shifting around in here all the time, small things, but Smaug allowed them their lives because they did not desire his gold. Something was panting though, the scent of fear permeating the air. Animals did not generally fear him. This was something else.
Opening his eyes, he could spot nothing. He sniffed; that scent was strong and Smaug turned his head in the direction of it.
“Well, thief.” He began, using the most common tongue he had heard during his many years; hoping that the unknown creature would speak it too. “I smell you.”
It was a delicious smell. Earthy, with a hint of spice. It was not a dwarf, for theirs’ was always tainted with the gold sickness of their kind. Dwarves reeked around treasure, it was vile. There was a hint of gold to this creature’s smell, it carried something, though Smaug did not know what. It had a call to it, similar to the gold sickness and yet in many ways so much more alluring. Smaug loved his hoard, but unlike the dwarves, he did not go digging for more, he was not obsessed. This thing… He would capture this creature and see what it was that called in a manner more beguiling than anything else.
“I hear your breath.” He warned the intruder. “I feel your air.”
The air that so often sat stale, unmoved now had a hint of the freshness of the breeze on it. It was similar to a normal animal making its way into the halls, but Smaug knew the difference. That earthy smell with a hint of breeze, of pollen was easy to spot in a hall that had not had a draft blowing through in some time.
“Where are you?” He asked, moving his head towards the scent of fear, towards the desperate panting. “Where are you?”
The creature’s fear apparently hit a peak, for it ran noisily down through the treasure. Smaug followed. He kept his body as close to the hoard as he could, trying to follow the scent accurately. All the movement in the air made the smell more difficult to follow, but the creature was now panting loudly, letting out little whimpers.
“Come, now. Don’t be shy. Step into the light.” He coaxed, desperate to catch a glimpse of this creature. Elves were good at hiding, he recalled, but this was no elf; it didn’t smell like them. They had a much lighter smell, one that spoke of their life surrounded by both fauna and flora. He wanted to see this unusual creature that hid so well.
“Hmm… There is something about you. Something you carry; something made of gold, but far more precious.”
Smaug knew the smell of gold. He knew of gold sickness, though he did not succumb to it in the same way other sentient creatures did. He wanted this though; the creature and the item in its possession.
A moment later, the creature was revealed to him. It was a little person, smaller than a dwarf with curly hair and a gold ring grasped between its fingers.
“There you are, Thief in the Shadows.” He said, looking the creature up and down. Was it male or female? Smaug sniffed, curious to find out. It made no real difference, but he liked to gather knowledge almost as much as he liked to gather treasure.
“I did not come to steal from you, O Smaug, the Unassessably Wealthy. I merely wanted to gaze upon your magnificence. To see if you really were as great as the old tales say. I did not believe them.” It whimpered.
“And do you know?” asked Smaug, drawing himself up to full height. He wanted to be impressive to this ring bearer. He was a Great Fire Drake. He wanted this creature on its knees in awe.
“Truly, the tales and songs fall utterly short of your enormity, O Smaug the Stupendous.”
“Do you think flattery will keep you alive?” Smaug was amused. He could tell the creature was using fancy words and a quick tongue to try and save its own life, but he did not approve of thieves. This was doubly true when he could scent dwarves on the creature. It was not immediately obvious, it was likely he had travelled with them. In any other setting, Smaug would not have noticed, but no sentient creature came in here. The dwarves had locked their mountain halls up and this creature could not be in here without their help.
“No, no.”
“No, indeed. You seem familiar with my name, but I don’t remember smelling your kind before. Who are you, and where do you come from, may I ask?” He advanced on the creature. The scent of fear freshened again as he got close.
“I come from under the hill.” It said, eyes locking onto something in the hoard. Smaug was more interested in gaining knowledge though. This creature would not be stealing anything, Smaug was far more powerful than it could ever hope to be.
“Underhill?”
“And under hills and over hills my path has led.” It grinned, though its every action was still tainted with fear. “And- And through the air. I am he who walks unseen.”
“Impressive.” There was no hint of a lie in its words… No, his words. The creature had unknowingly confessed to being male. “What else do you claim to be?”
“I am Luck-wearer; riddle-maker.”
“Lovely titles. Go on.” He was enjoying watching this creature stutter. He might keep it; this was more entertaining than anything Smaug had done recently.
“Barrel-rider.”
“Barrels? Now, that is interesting. And what about your little dwarf friends? Where are they hiding?” He did not want to claim this riddle-maker and have to deal with infatuated dwarves; for how could they not be infatuated with him. He was delicious.
“D-dwarves? No. No, no. No dwarves here. You’ve got that all wrong.” Curious, the thought of the dwarves had given the creature courage.
“Oh, I don’t think so, Barrel-rider. They sent you in here to do their dirty work while they skulk about outside.” He did not approve. This creature ought to be fully adored, not sent in to do the work dwarves dare not attempt.
“Truly, you are mistaken, O Smaug Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities.” The creature grovelled. Smaug liked this.
“You have nice manners, for a thief and a liar. I know the smell and taste of dwarf. You are mine. They cannot have you.” He turned and stared straight at his creature, pinned as he was against the stone.
“Y-Yours?” he squeaked, but he stared back into Smaug’s eyes, unblinking.
“You are mine.” The Drake breathed, his gaze locked on the small thing.
The creature slowly relaxed and slumped down into the treasure. Smaug was pleased. It was something rare. He would keep it safe. Dwarves could not be trusted with this task.
He would keep it happy, this creature. The Barrel-rider was a creature of flesh. There was one sure way to keep such things happy.
“Remove your coverings.” He commanded. This would keep Smaug happy too. He liked to see his treasure in all its glory, not covered up with the ugly fabrics of bipedal creatures.
One by one, the coverings fell onto the piles of treasure. Smaug did not care that it was covering his gold. Gold was common in this hall. There was only one riddle-maker though. He leaned in and licked it.
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Bilbo whimpered as he felt the large tongue run over his bare body.
“Your taste is good, Luck-wearer.” Smaug growled and breathed hot air over his skin.
It sent through Bilbo a fiery surge of arousal that he had not expected. He peeled himself away from the stone and felt his knees give way. The hobbit dropped in a pile of gold and jewels.
Smaug licked him again; that great, rough tongue causing glorious friction. It moved over the whole of his front, up over his legs, his groin, his torso and his face. It should have been disgusting, but that tongue was wonderful. It was hot, moist and it caused his nipples to swell into tight little buds.
“So hairless, like a miniature elf. I know what they like.” Smaug’s low growl sent desire rippling through Bilbo. He raised his hands to start tugging at his nipples, even as he spread his legs in anticipation of anther swipe of that tongue.
Smaug’s tongue did return, but it only touched the hobbit’s chest. It felt like a tease, even as it made Bilbo shudder.
“Turn over, Barrel-rider. Let’s see how elf-like you are.”
Bilbo obeyed without hesitation. He turned and presented his buttocks to Smaug, not one ounce of shame impeding him. The dragon licked him again, the hot, malleable tongue moving into the cleft of his buttocks and running over the sensitive skin of his entrance. Bilbo moaned, and Smaug repeated his action.
It was wonderful. Smaug covered so much skin at once, his muscle folding into every little gap, that it was almost overwhelming. Bilbo could feel his cock starting to leak, smearing his own essence over the treasure. He heard a pleased noise behind him and the dragon exhaled hot air over him.
“I have not felt this excited in a long time, little one.” Smaug informed him.
The Drake then moved, sending gold flowing down into new positions. Bilbo turned over, still whimpering, but enjoying the feel of the cool metal as it touched his skin. Briefly, he wondered where his clothing had gone, now seemingly buried in the mounds of treasure, but as something dripped on him, his attention turned.
It was clearly Smaug’s cock above him, protruding from a gap in those dark scales. Bilbo whimpered as another drop fell and hit his skin. It pooled off his chest and onto the treasure. He groaned at the knowledge that he was arousing this great creature so much.
“Touch yourself, Barrel-rider. I greatly enjoy the scent of your arousal.”
Bilbo obeyed. As one hand rose up to rub the viscous liquid across his chest, the other hand dropped down between his legs. He palmed his cock, putting pressure on it. He gasped, unable to take his eyes off the giant cock before him; he could smell the musky scent of the dragon. Another glob fell, landing with a splat beside Bilbo.
The hobbit moved his lower hand to scoop some of it up, moving to perform an action he had not before since his tween years. He pushed a lubricated finger up into his already slick buttocks. It felt awkward, but Bilbo was too hot to care. He simply rolled onto his front and shoved two fingers in.
Several large drops of Smaug’s essence fell onto Bilbo’s back, but his own desire was flooding his mind. He gave no mind to the dragon beyond using what he had provided as more lubricant.
“Yeessssss…. Lose yourself to it.” Hissed that low voice. It tugged at something deep inside Bilbo, making him whimper loudly. His hips began to writhe; the treasure echoed out its ringing as it shifted beneath him.
He slid another finger in, desperately trying to reach that spot inside him. More liquid leaked out of Smaug’s cock and fell on and around him. He caught sight of a jewel. It was fairly thick, but it was long and smooth so Bilbo hurriedly crawled over to it.
“I need… more from you…” whimpered Bilbo, unable to ask the dragon to help him lubricate the item. Smaug didn’t chuckle at him as Bilbo expected though. He let out a loud growl and Bilbo got his wish.
Slicked up with the Drake’s own liquid, the jewel was pushed into the hobbit’s buttocks. It moved heavily up against that desirable spot inside him, and Bilbo rolled onto his back, spreading his legs and baring his front. He pushed his hips down into the treasure, helping the jewel move deeper inside.
As he let out a wail, Smaug growled loudly and his come flooded Bilbo’s senses. It sprayed at him, sticking into his hair and covering his face. There was so much that the shot over his chest and over the hobbit’s own cock. It puddled on the treasure beneath him, too viscous to seep straight down through the gaps.
Every inch of the hobbit was covered in Smaug’s come.
He whimpered loudly in desire, the scent overwhelming. The dragon shifted again, and a moment later that rough tongue tugged across his body again. It lapped at his sensitive nipples and over his own twitching cock. Another lick, and another.
The next lick sent Bilbo over the edge, the rough texture finally undid him and he yelled out, shooting his own come over his now clean chest.
There was a hot puff of air as Smaug shifted back.
“Sleep, little one.” The dragon instructed, and Bilbo felt his eyes getting heavy. “Sleep in the knowledge that next time, you will release your essence over my hoard, O Rarest of my Treasures.”
Bilbo yawned and curled his naked body up, feeling the jewel start to slip out of his buttocks but too exhausted to do anything about it. His consciousness slid away from him also and he fell into a deep sleep, not yet fully aware of his new position of an item stolen away from the dwarves rather than a burglar for them.