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Dwalin thought very little of hobbits. They were small, looked weak, and generally seemed cowardly. The one who greeted him at the door was very much a mess and quite easily flustered. His wife, on the other hand… but he was no adulterer, and regardless of the fact that he could see her ogling him openly when she thought he wasn't looking, he kept his eyes to acceptable places and decided to generally avoid her.
That was difficult when she clearly wasn’t avoiding him , and as more dwarves trickled into the house she played a good and attentive hostess. His eyes strayed to her chest as she bent to serve another round of ale three times before he mentally smacked himself upside the head, turning himself completely to his brother as a distraction.
This all worked perfectly well until Thorin arrived. He saw her give the king a good once over as she took his cloak from him and his opinion of her plummeted. Just a common bedwarmer then. Good thing he had kept his nose out of it. He carefully watched as Thorin, the dolt, insulted their host. Even if he did deserve a good knock upside the head for so obviously not satisfying his wife, they were guests, and should at least pretend to have manners. Despite the fact that they were now barely welcome, Thorin was invited back to the table.
Mrs. Baggins practically dropped the stew onto the table in front of him. Gone was the friendly woman who had cooked and served the rest of them with a smile - she was openly glowering at Thorin. But she appeared to bite her tongue, plonking the spoon down into the bowl with a splash and turning away, retreating back into the kitchen.
Gandalf began speaking before anyone could mention the behavior, and the night continued.
She reappeared at some point, coming to stand silently with her husband as the quest was discussed. Dwalin could feel her watching him - no, all of them, out of the corner of his eye, and he did his best to focus hard on the conversation.
When the hobbit was brought into it, he felt he had a convincing enough reason to look at her. He expected her to be angry, or distraught, but she was only sad, looking at Gandalf like he had condemned her to this suicide mission of a quest
“Gandalf…” Was all she said, and the wizard looked at her, equally sad.
Bilbo sputtered. “I’ve never stolen a thing in my life! Besides! What’s Bella to do when I’m gone?” He too looked to Gandalf, slightly betrayed.
Thorin scowled. “A number of this company have left their wives and families behind Master Baggins, And if you are too weak to do so-”
Bilbo cut him off. “Wife?” He said, slightly confused. “She’s my sister! And I’m all she has!” Dwalin’s eyebrows shot up to his non-existent hairline without his permission. Bilbo turned back to Gandalf, perhaps thinking the wizard could be reasoned with. “You honestly expected me to leave Bella here, unmarried and unprotected by even an uncle, while I traipse across the continent, perhaps never to return?” The hobbit began to build up steam. “And what would she do if I didn't come back? She would have no money, they would surely take the house - she would be on the streets! Sure the Gamgees might take her in, but not forever! That is, if they didn’t marry her off to the highest bidder at the earliest convenience! Like cattle!” His voice reached a fever pitch, and Bella next to him just closed her eyes. He fumed at Gandalf, voice dropping. “To propose something to someone unattached would be preposterous - to propose it to me, knowing ,” he emphasized, “that is simply rude,” and then he ushered his much calmer sister out into the hall.
The dwarves around the table all blinked at each other for a moment.
“Coming here was clearly a mistake.” Thorin said to Gandalf. “We will leave without the halfling.”
The hobbit girl, Bella, the sister, cleared her throat in the doorway. “You’re all more than welcome to stay the night. I’ve already made arrangements in the spare rooms and the living room.” She didn't apologize for Bilbo, and while Dwalin could see emotion in her face, it was kept in better check than her brother’s.
Gandalf nodded. “Thank you Bella.”
She dipped slightly in a sort of curtsy, then quickly left, silently scurrying off somewhere. Dwalin only felt a little bad staring at her as she left.
He noticed her, as they sang of their home in front of the fire. He felt the prickle of her eyes on him as she watched from halfway behind the doorway. When he turned to return her stare, she was gone.
“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t know anyone was out here.”
It was very late, more early morning, and Dwalin was seated out back on a decent wrought iron bench, appreciating the pleasant scent the entire Shire seemed to have. He enjoyed his blood and gore, sure, but he never enjoyed smelling like them.
Bella had probably come out thinking all the company still asleep, possibly trying to find a less cluttered space.
She hesitated a few feet from him. “Might I join you?” She asked politely.
He still hadn’t looked at her directly, and he simply grunted. She could take it as whatever answer she wanted.
She took a seat next to him on the bench and gently relaxed into it. Neither of them spoke for a long while, but Dwalin noticed immediately when her attention turned from the landscape to him.
He took a steadying breath and allowed his eyes, and only his eyes, to move to look at her.
She was looking, not quite staring, up at him, her curls loose around her face and tumbling down her back and over her shoulders in a way her bun had not allowed them to do earlier in the night. She was also in what was probably her nightgown, white and loose and flowy in the moonlight.
His head turned, physically and metaphorically, and she looked up at him, now a little nervously. He worried slightly about the intimidating figure he knew he cut. Sure, she had seemed unafraid earlier, when he had all his armour and weapons and furs on, but that was with her brother around, whose protection, as pathetic as it was, she seemed to need. Now, even stripped down to just his base layers, tunic, trousers, and boots, she was alone with him, brother far away and fast asleep.
All thoughts about what she was nervous about flew out the window when she opened her mouth.
“I’ve never kissed someone with a beard before.”
Now he was staring. Had she really just said that? Had he fallen asleep on this bench at some point? He blinked. He must have stared too long, because she started to blush and pull away. His hand shot out and landed on hers without his permission and she froze.
What in Mahal’s name was he thinking? He wasn’t that’s what. But it also wasn’t every day that a hobbit lass shaped by Yavanna herself plopped herself down and asked for a moonlit kiss. Had she even asked? It had been an ambiguous statement but there was no denying the underlying question.
“I-” He started, and then stopped, completely unsure what to say.
Her other hand landed atop his, and all he could think about was how soft it was. “You’re leaving tomorrow,” She shuffled closer to him, and he swallowed thickly. “Off on a long journey to the other side of the world,” she said quietly, glancing at him from beneath her lashes. Her hand smoothed over his. She was very quickly convincing him that her idea, whatever the idea, was spectacular. She picked up his hand and shuffled even closer, and Mahal she looked like silver in the moonlight, smooth skin and rose petal lips, eyes like fresh earth. “A once in a lifetime moment - paths crossing in a distant wood.” she said poetically, losing him for a moment, before boldly placing his hand high on her thigh, and everything ground to a halt.
He pulled back, unaware he had been leaning forward. “Lass,” he warned. He tried to pull his hand away but she held it fast. “I’ll not be disrespectin’ ye in yer own home.” How had he let it get this far? Sure, she was attractive, and learning that she was not married to her brother had felt like a weight off his shoulders, but this seemed a step above just a moonlit kiss. He was not about to deflower, or whatever it was she wanted, this girl and then take off for the hills like some deadbeat libertine.
She frowned up at him. “It’s hardly disrespectful if I’m requesting it.”
“You’ve a future husband t’ think about,” He said, remembering Bilbo’s single moment of spine, “I’ll not-”
She scoffed, loudly. “I’m middle aged with nary an offer. Bilbo seems to think they’d have success selling me off, but the transaction would likely go the other way 'round,” She rubbed her thumb across the back of his hand. “At least allow me this, free of gossip and society. Something to think back on.”
He stared at her. He was one for battles of strength, not battles of wits, and the way the sweet scent of the Shire mixed with what was probably her soap drifted on the light breeze was blowing away his slightly flimsy protests. He wanted this, had wanted this since he set his eyes on her, even if he had put it out of his mind as best he could. She nibbled on her lower lip enticingly, blinking up at him with big, dark eyes.
She must have been able to tell he was coming around to the idea, because she finally released his hand, only to swiftly turn and swing a leg over him, straddling him on the bench. His hands landed on her waist on instinct, and in his surprise he inhaled, catching a better whiff of the flowery, clean smell of her soap.
She tentatively placed her hands on his chest.
He grit his teeth and failed multiple times at not looking down at her lips, and further past them to poorly concealed swells beneath her nightdress. “It- it isna right.” he breathed, struggling to some up with any true reason why that didn't go directly against her clearly offered consent.
She leaned forward into him, her curls falling forward. Only his head retreating awkwardly kept their noses from bumping. “Please…” She whispered, hands bunching slightly in his tunic.
Their breath mingled for several long moments. Little by little he relaxed, their noses bumping only slightly, then slotting together, and her eyes slipped closed. He stopped, their lips not quite touching yet. Mahal, what was he doing? But she wanted this, and he wanted this, and they were both adults, and she knew full well he may never come back. This was only something to remember. A lonely part of him ached. Maybe he needed this too.
“Please…” She whined, hips canting only slightly. He gripped her waist harder, and it only seemed to encourage her. Was he really about to do this?
She panted a little, getting herself worked up, and her hands released his tunic to instead scrape down his chest. He shivered, and just for half a second their lips brushed.
Dwalin gave in. One hand slid up her back while the other gripped her hip as he dove into her mouth. She was more than ready and willing, opening to him and giving as much as she got. Her hands wove over his shoulders, one ending up scratching up and down his back and the other somewhere in his hair.
No longer contained by his grip her hips were moving wildly against him, grinding and gyrating against a bulge that was already embarrassingly past half mast. It was clear she had very little experience, but her enthusiasm more than made up for it, not that Dwalin cared much anyway.
His hips began to meet hers, thrusting upwards slightly, and she moaned into his mouth. Mahal, the sound lit him aflame. His hand left her hip for lower territory, and his mouth moved south as well. She panted and whined as he kissed and licked along the lines of her neck, her nails biting into his back. He traveled across her collar bones and back up to her jaw, then up to her ear, which he licked a long stripe up the curve of.
She spasmed in his arms, moaning brokenly even as her hands suddenly pushed him away.
“Wait, wait, wait.”
He stopped immediately, and guilt and shame bubbled up. How had he been so stupid ?
“Oh, Yavanna above,” she murmured, looking him up and down lustily, and looking well kissed herself. “I can’t-” She stopped herself, shaking her head to clear it, “What’s your name?”
He stared at her for a long moment. “Dwalin.” he said finally. Stupidly.
She nodded. “Right. ‘Master Dwarf’ Seemed a silly thing to moan in the moment. And I’m Bella, if you didn’t catch it during dinner,” She said in her strangely sensible hobbit way. “You may continue.”
When he just stared at her she grabbed one of his hands and boldly placed it directly on a breast. “Come on then.”
His thumb moved of its own accord, sliding over her peaked nipple. She sighed and wiggled a little, reminding him of his own arousal.
She looked at him with unfiltered desire. “Kiss me, Dwalin.” She said lowly, and he did.
The pace was a little slower now but no less enthusiastic, and eventually he tugged down the loose top of her nightgown to reveal a heavy, round breast. She leaned back as he bent his head to it, but he could tell the position wasn't very comfortable despite his enthusiasm, so he licked and sucked his way back up. She gasped and writhed on him as he returned to her ear, noting its sensitivity, and when he lightly sucked on the earlobe she pulled away, only to crash her lips back onto his and move her hands south to begin frantically working at the laces of his trousers. Any wits he had about him had fled somewhere between when her lips first landed on his and when his hand had been dropped onto her breast, so he made absolutely no protests.
He helped by rucking up her nightgown, squeezing and kneading the supple flesh as he moved up, and groaning when he realized she had absolutely nothing underneath. He palmed her ass before spreading his knees slightly - her position atop him meant that her legs were spread even wider - and a hand slipped around to feel at her folds.
They both moaned as a thick finger slipped across slick skin, the curly hair there soft with moisture. He readjusted, giving it a better feel as she ground herself down into his hand, momentarily forgetting her task of releasing him from his laces. His fingers slipped around as she wiggled, and she moaned again, grabbing hold of the top of his trousers and making the muscles in his stomach jump.
Mahal, the sounds she made alone were going to make him spill into his trousers like a 50 year old. He carefully slipped a finger into her and her head dropped to his shoulder. “Eru above… Dwalin…” She moaned. She began fucking herself down onto his hand, grinding her hips into his fingers when she could. “More, please…” She whined.
He slipped another finger in easily, fluid already beginning to drip off his wrist.
She groaned and began thrusting in earnest, and he nudged her head to the side slightly.
Then he went in on her ear, licking and sucking. She keened, shaking, and her hips lost rhythm, but he compensated easily, thrusting his fingers into her and grinding his knuckles against her clit.
She drew breaths in great gasps before her body locked up, inner walls spasming around his fingers as she came. She choked a moan, before slumping against him, heaving for air.
He slipped his fingers out, using his other hand to pull her a little higher up on his lap.
He lifted his glistening fingers to the moonlight. When in Gondor…
He gave them a tentative lick, then promptly shoved them in his mouth. He groaned a little. Mahal, if only he had the time…
He looked down to see her watching him, eyes blown wide with lust. She licked her lips. He removed his fingers and replaced them with her tongue, and despite the orgasm she kissed him with as much heat as before. Her hands slipped out of his waistband, where they had gripped and then gone lax.
Something in him was a little disappointed, but the lass had had her fun, and he certainly had enough material to finish himself off with. At least for the next few months.
Then she started in on his laces again, and if she didn’t get Dwalin out of them his cock would bust the seams on his pants itself. She had been mostly done with the task when he had distracted her with his fingers and soon her soft hands were wrapped around him, and the kiss stopped as he groaned.
She pulled back a little as well, looking down at the hot dwarven steel she was now holding.
He could feel her hesitation slightly. He rubbed a thumb across her hip. “Y’alright lass?” he rumbled. This was not something they could go back from, no matter how enthusiastic she seemed.
She swallowed and nodded. “Never seen one quite so… large.” He worried for a moment that she was concerned, but then he noticed her wiggling again, hips grinding down on empty air as she practically drooled over him. This lass would be the death of him.
He claimed her mouth again, licking and sucking at her as she gently slid her hands along his length. He thrust up into them one, twice, before she pulled herself away from him, panting.
She looked him directly in the eye. “F-fuck me, Dwalin.” She said, stuttering only slightly on the clearly embarrassing statement.
He growled, grabbing both asscheeks and dragging her up his lap towards him until they were in full contact and her knees were sticking out of the back of the bench. He felt animalistic, feral and predatory and barely in control of himself. All he wanted was to be buried inside her, feel those muscles spasm around his cock instead of his fingers, to taste and smell and hear nothing but her.
He lifted her, then held her, with her assistance, before adjusting himself at her entrance. She was more than ready, he knew, despite the size difference between them.
“Last chance te stop me lass,” He warned, his last two brain cells rubbing together just enough to get the words out.
She frowned a little, as if his constant assurance of her consent was offensive, and wasn’t that a sight, her full lips, bruised and swollen in a delicious pout. He wanted to kiss her again. So he did. And then, while she was slightly distracted by his tongue down her throat, he edged the tip of his cock into her.
There was barely any resistance she was so wet and ready for him, and they both groaned at the sensation. He slid in a little more, still cautious, which was apparently all too slow for her, because the next thing he knew she was dropping herself fully onto him with a whiny sigh. He nearly bit her tongue in surprise, but she ignored it, continuing to kiss him and wiggle around. His hands desperately gripped her ass, surely to leave some bruises, trying not to cum like some sort of adolescent as her walls gripped and slipped around him.
She unsuctioned her lips from his. “Please Dwalin…” She begged, grinding down onto him in a weak imitation of a thrust.
He growled again as she licked a stripe up near his ear, and readjusted his grip on her rear. He lifted her off him slightly, which she seemed about to complain about, before he began to roughly piston into her, half thrusting up and half dropping her down. She gasped, gripping his shirt, and began to help earnestly, his trousers thankfully muffling the sound of their thighs meeting.
“Lean back,” He panted. “Bella.” She just barely lifted her head. “Wanna see those pretty tits o’ yours.”
He managed to free a hand from her backside to move her hands off his chest and to his shoulders, pushing her back so he could see her fully in the moonlight. Her breasts bounced with every thrust, and he used his now-free hand to grab one and tweak a nipple. She gasped again, her head lolling back and exposing the delicate lines of her collarbone and neck, and her inner walls clenched around him. He did the same to the other nipple, to equally exciting results, before pulling her back into his chest. He was nearly at his limit, but he wanted her to come again - on him, around him, for him. She was close, he could feel it in the way she ground down at the end of every thrust and in the broken sounding ends to her moans, and he tilted her head away from him. As put out as she was by not being able to kiss him, his lick up her ear more than made up for it. He paid special attention to the gently pointed tip as her hips stuttered, and he knew when his teeth scraped down the outer shell she was done for. She locked up again, hips stuck as her legs shook beneath her, but he continued to thrust into her from below. Mahal, her cunt clenching around him was perfect, and he almost imagined it was trying to suck him back in, hold him there forever, but even at the height of pleasure he knew he was not about to knock up a lass and then possibly leave for his death, no matter how good her tits were. Her orgasm didn't finish before he was pulling out of her, not even having to use his hand to finish himself, white spurts of cum shooting up between them and landing on his shirt and her nightgown as he groaned her name.
She slumped forward when she could finally get air into her lungs, uncaring of the sticky mess between them as her legs shook slightly in the aftermath.
They breathed together for a long few minutes, letting their heart rates go down and muscles relax. Eventually Dwalin moved his hands up her back, stroking lightly. He wanted to hold her, curl up and feel her weight in his arms and on his chest, but this was not the place for her to fall asleep, and she should probably clean up some.
“I think ye should go back t' bed.” He murmured lowly, and she shivered.
She pushed herself up so they were face to face again. She leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his lips, humming. Mahal, she looked absolutely ravished, her curls a mess and her tits spilling out of her shift. He gladly returned the kiss.
Then she shuffled backwards, half falling off the bench before her legs held her. He caught a glimpse of her shining thighs before the hem of the shift dropped to cover her, and his mouth watered. In another lifetime perhaps.
He gave one last good look at her breasts before reaching forward and pulling her shift up over them. She smiled down at him. “You know, I find I very much enjoy kissing someone with a beard.” She said, which was lost on him until he remembered that she had said something to that effect when she had first sat down. “And while I’ll surely remember this until the end of my days,” she gave a shy smile, and leaned down. “You’re more than welcome to drop in for dinner anytime, Dwalin.” She whispered, giving him another quick peck before standing, licking the taste of him off her lips, then rather quickly retreating to the house.
Dwalin sat on the bench until the first greyings of dawn, positive that what had occurred had, in fact, occurred, but unsure of how or why. When the first stars on the horizon began to wink out, he swore, knowing Thorin would be awake soon, and rushed to clean himself up before he made a fool of himself and tarnished the girl’s reputation.