Patience My Love

Frodo's eyes were usually wide, perceptive, and pure- sparkling with its powder blue irises. But tonight, they were drowned in a dark haze, struggling to stay open while listening to Uncle Thorin's tales of war. The young lad received a sharp nudge to his arm, and he startled awake.

"Eyes open, boy! You wanted a story, so you should respect it when told."

Frodo swiped off saliva that trailed down the corner of his mouth, "You did say it would be a SHORT story."

"As short as one can be when describing one's victories. I reckon you slept through it all."

"I did not! ...Well, I did. But you've mentioned those things before. Three times in fact- in excellent detail!"

Thorin shook his head at his nephew incredulously, "Then what was the purpose of asking me to retell it tonight?"

"Well, I wanted to know when you felt it."

"Felt what?"

"When did you feel love- for Uncle Bilbo?" Frodo said. Thorin paused at this question, his face washing over with a subtle pink tint. Fortunately for him, some of it was covered by his dark beard. "I can recite your story from beginning to end. But obviously, there was a moment when you fell for him."

"That's impossible to determine when fighting for your life. I cannot say when I fell for him- as you put it. However..." The dwarf groaned, feeling his mouth form the most sickly-sweet sentences he could muster, "He was a loyal companion, a fateful friend, one that supported me tirelessly. By the end of our journey, I chose to remain in his life, for such a valiant being is rare."

The young hobbit processed his uncle's words, analyzing them thoughtfully. The one who had conquered battles, led a charge into orcs, was entirely clueless to how his admissions revealed so much about his inner affections. Frodo allowed a minute of silence to pass before saying, "So what I understand is...You fell in love from the very start?"

The darkness of night couldn't block out Thorin's muscles tensing under his clothes. His face grew hotter, and his ears carried a pink tint of their own. He darted downward to avoid his nephew's eyes, which had reverted to their natural luminance.

"I KNEW IT!"

"Quiet you!" Thorin lifted a stern finger, "You want the neighborhood to hear?!" Frodo was getting a kick out of badgering his guardian. It was beyond transparent how deeply his elders were fond of one another but hearing it from their mouths sweetened the fact. The only love that rose above their own was their mutual one for Frodo, and together they molded into an uncommon family, but sturdy nonetheless.

A loud yawn erupted out of Frodo. He stretched his arms and stood from the bench. "It is getting quite late," he pointed out.

"You're not leaving until he returns."

Frodo smirked, "I wasn't trying to. I know how you get when he's away this long."

"An errand run shouldn't take this many hours," Thorin grumbled.

"Funny you say that. When Uncle Bilbo would start his stories, he always began with the lovely dinner you and your friends invited yourselves to-"

The dwarf jumped up hastily.

"He's coming up the hill." The power of love was strong indeed, for Uncle Bilbo had appeared like the dwarf had summoned him. The hobbit's curly bed of brown hair showed up first, attached to his head that was swaying side-to-side, and a smile that was unbecoming of his typical composure. Frodo ran to Bilbo and gave him a hug. His elder returned it gratefully.

"Welcome back, Uncle!"

"I hope I haven't worried you past your bedtime!" Bilbo grinned a little too widely.

"Oh come now, I'm not a child," Frodo snarked, "Tell me about your outing!"

"Surely, but first," Bilbo sauntered to his husband, "Waiting up for me, were you?"

"Why of course," the couple shared a chaste kiss, and all individuals walked inside. As Frodo prepared for bed, Bilbo illustrated the events that transpired during his mini adventure. The tales made the younger hobbit question his uncle in ways that he hadn't before.

For instance, Bilbo instructed Frodo to never stop by the home of Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, yet he broke his own rule. He carried on about how he stood in her abode and confessed his contempt towards her; they got into a bickering match before Bilbo was escorted out by her husband.

"I met with a good ol' pal after that, and we celebrated with neighbors over nothing really! No holiday to cheer for, yet we did, because we could!"

Frodo could smell the liquor on his breath the longer he spoke. So, he informed his uncle that he would like to be left alone to rest. Bilbo took no offense, but there had been a question posed at him that did.

"That ring looks new. Was that a gift from your friend?" Frodo said.

"This?" Bilbo raised his hand and stared at the golden ring, pupils dilating, "Why...how would he? No one would be able to attain such a beautiful piece of treasure..."

Frodo's skin tingled seeing Bilbo transfixed on such a minor piece of jewelry. He didn't consider his uncle as the kind who'd care much for material like this. Once Bilbo exited his quarters, Frodo turned off the lights and adjusted himself under the covers, refusing the fret over his fears any longer. They would disintegrate by morning, he hoped.

During the hobbits' nightly conversation, Thorin had been in the dining room, cleaning after their supper. He grew to enjoy sweeping the floor, washing dishes, and wiping down the table. They were simple tasks, ones that didn't require meticulous planning and bloodshed. It was where his mind was most at ease, where the darkness wouldn't plague him as harshly. The greatest concern tonight was the need for more washcloths- not persuading an army to fight at his side. He could feel the slow beating of his heart, not because he was dangling between life and death, but because he was in a safe place. There were no treasures in this home but the two souls he cherished.

Just as the dwarf finished cleaning the table, Bilbo entered the room. His entrance was more than enough for Thorin to smile at. "Like what you see?"

"Do I?" Bilbo cried, "It looks like you spent hours on this. Polished table, floors, I never seen anything so immaculate!"

Thorin tossed the used washcloth in the middle of the table before opening his arms to Bilbo, "I sense you are humoring me."

This was their routine. Though some days were Bilbo's turn to clean this area and Thorin would be the one talking Frodo to bed, it always ended the same: the two would share an embrace, practically sniffing each other's scent through the fabric of their shirts- or that was just Bilbo.

Thorin wasn't bothered about him inhaling so much as he was about the tight hold the hobbit had him in. It wasn't painful by any means, but odd with its intensity. Not only that, but a deep moan rumbled in Bilbo's chest, one that happened on occasion, and those times were proven to always be amid their more "private" conversations.

"You've had quite a day, haven't you? One that must be rewarded with a good night's rest," Thorin winked, signaling that 'rest' carried sexual annotations. Bilbo grinned reading into them. He squeezed harder around Thorin, simpering unabashedly.

Seeing his husband so cheerful was a treat on any regular day, but Thorin suspected that this wasn't one of them. He wanted to speak with Bilbo about his sloppy appearance when he returned home but refused to confront him with Frodo watching. The concerns grew during supper when Bilbo rushed through his meal. Typically, the hobbit savored every bite and he'd be the one to chastise Thorin for his unwarranted speed.

Bilbo's decorum had decreased as well. Thorin wished for his husband's table manners to return, as he sat bewildered at him slurping his soup, chewing loudly on bread, and using no hand to cover his mouth while he spoke. This was not the hobbit Thorin married, and now that Frodo was asleep, this was the ideal time to address it.

Thorin couldn't find an entry to express his worries though, not when he continued to stare at his partner's captivating green eyes. Bilbo looked more beautiful than ever in the dim lighting. At the very least, Thorin reached for Bilbo's tight grip, trying to pry him off.

"You must be tired. Let me take care of you."

"You smell wonderful," the hobbit sighed, "I want your scent all over me."

"You are more than tired. You are delusional." Thorin used all his strength to yank Bilbo's arms away and kept his grasp on the other man's wrists, "What's happened to make you so eager?"

"Nothing to make me want to savor you..." Bilbo would have preferred to spend another excursion through treacherous pathways than to admit his sexual desires. That sort of behavior left him a blushing flower, despite the positions he'd willfully put himself in to encourage such language.

Thorin's chest tightened, ruminating on the possibilities for Bilbo's boldness. He didn't disclose much about his travels over supper, and for him to act out of character could only seem to be a result of something affecting his spirit. "Be honest with me. Did something occur tonight?"

Thorin had been prepared to be shunned for getting too close to a secret that Bilbo didn't want unveiled, but he lacked any preparation for his husband pushing him against the side of the table and fiddling with his trousers. The dark-haired dwarf exclaimed with a panic, "What are you doing?"

"Is it wrong of me to please my husband? I've been waiting for this chance..."

Sex in the dining room was prohibited; that was established since they took Frodo in. The fun of spontaneity had to be put on hold to avoid awkward encounters, yet the hobbit seemed to discard all that.

"I will never turn down an invitation," Thorin said, "But there is a time and place." This attitude wouldn't do for the hungry hobbit, and he slowly tugged the waistband of his trousers, threatening to reveal his cock. "Don't! Frodo can see if he were to..."

"Let him watch. I don't care."

That remark motivated the dwarf to jerk away from Bilbo, no longer giving in to this silly game. This wasn't a fun affair anymore, but an act that went completely against their morals. Bilbo would never jeopardize the well-being of his blood. He'd be the last individual to sacrifice boyhood innocence for carnal needs. Before, Thorin suspected that something was wrong with his husband, but now he was convinced.

"What is with you tonight? What you're proposing is nonsensical. I refuse to allow such madness!" Thorin was hit with an unwanted memory; a wave of anger consuming him like it did in the castle years ago; the place where he loathed Bilbo for hiding the Arkenstone. For someone who has lived in lunacy, Thorin sensed a similar carnage rumbling within his partner. Thorin's first instinct was to storm off, locking himself away from Bilbo till he winded down from his episode. Yet that would be unfair considering that Bilbo never considered isolating him.

The hobbit remained close, whereas others justifiably distanced themselves. The attention was undeserved, but if Bilbo hadn't stayed by him, then he may not have had the willpower to escape death's clutches. The longing for more out of life, pursuing greater avenues that didn't involve slaughtering enemies and an unending search for ultimate authority.

Thorin could still remember the light that greeted him in the sky; he swore he was lifted out from his corpse and introduced to the beauty of the afterlife. But he refused to enter. There were goals he had yet to achieve: making amends with his adversaries, proving deeper loyalty to his comrades, and reuniting with the sneaky little thief who ensnared his heart. Thorin found it cruel to consider running off, when the hobbit who stood before him was the biggest reason he woke to see another day.

Bilbo raised his hands to inspect them. He tilted his head slightly, a wavy strand of hair dropping in front of his inquisitive eye. "Is this too much for you, Thorin?"

Truthfully, it had been, but Thorin didn't speak on it. He didn't wish to reject his husband, though engaging in intercourse in a public room was simply off limits. The dwarf hurried for something to say to soothe the hobbit, till he noticed something on his raised hand. A shiny, golden band wrapped around his pointer finger.

"What do you have there, Bilbo?" That stone shined brighter than the silver band on the halfling's ring finger. That finger Thorin studied closely on the day of their union, as he was careful to slip the band onto it to authenticate their marriage. Thorin stepped forward, which posed a threat to Bilbo.

"Keep away!" he jumped back, covering his golden ring with his other hand. The context of his fright made things clearer to the dwarf- this ring was Bilbo's Arkenstone. Wherever he found it, it held a great power that possessed his husband to be aggressive and tactless. Thorin pressed further, "I won't touch it, but we can place it somewhere safe."

"That can't happen! It wouldn't be good otherwise."

"Why not?"

Bilbo scrunched his eyebrows in an anxious expression, a tint of pink illuminating on his pale cheeks. Without a beard to hide it, the pink spread clearly over his face and Thorin could comprehend what his inner turmoil had been.

He released a large and content smile. "Oh, my love. That's your concern? Come..." the dwarf grabbed Bilbo in his arms before the other could protest, snuggling his body against his larger frame. It should've been more obvious.

This was a sort of placebo that convinced its user that it could bring out a more courageous side to them, at least that's what Thorin theorized. Species all around the world have found ways to stimulate themselves for intercourse. Special herbs did nicely for that, ropes could be helpful, and physical violence was an unspoken strategy that a select few did behind closed doors. But a ring...that was peculiar, but not impossible, and would certainly be more subtle in increasing one's appetite.

Between the two, Thorin did carry a more open disposition to sex, even if he was on equal footing to Bilbo regarding their lack of experience. Thorin liked to think that from his resurrection came an urge to live to the fullest, and he exuded that under covers. He'd never refrain his fondness from Bilbo again; he would give his all no matter the velocity or vigor required. Bilbo never needed to exert himself more than he was comfortable, and with this, Thorin worried if somehow, he signaled to his husband that his performances weren't acceptable- because that was far from the truth.

Thorin kissed Bilbo's head, taking in his sweet smell. It was unique tonight because the halfling did try a new oil for this occasion. The ring had powers that nobody should ever hold, but in a domestic setting like this, its influence could only go so far as to make its user hungry for affection and give it back tenfold.

"Do you long for me?" Bilbo said in a hushed tone, almost like he was afraid to confess his fears that he had gone too far and was prepared to be rejected. It's been so many years that his dwarf husband could sense his shift in character, and he didn't abuse it.

"I've never stopped," Thorin confessed. The couple stood apart now, each with a faint smile. "Your love is always accepted, but not here. Not when Frodo-"

"Yes! Yes, you're right," Bilbo nodded, "We should rest..."

Thorin rested a hand on Bilbo's burning cheek, "I'm not turning away. What happened before doesn't change my mind." The dwarf rubbed lovingly against Bilbo's skin, and in return, Bilbo leaned against his touch.

"You aren't frightened?" Bilbo said.

"So long as you behave yourself, I'll follow your lead."

The older couple hadn't planned on raising children, so when Frodo needed a home, they were rightfully surprised. But having a child around did expand their hearts, creating new reasons for meaning, and their generosity didn't come with regret. The young halfling was a kind boy, albeit cunning, yet from Bilbo's bloodline that was anticipated. The boy's positive attributes made up for any negatives, including his striking wisdom from an early age, his compassion for others, and his sense of humor was charming once someone read into its dryness. Thorin liked to believe he helped shape that. Frodo was never pushed away from activities; it was often the case that whenever he couldn't attend something, the married pair nearly felt criminal for it. There has only been one event that Frodo was forbidden to know about; something that the child never even considered, which was more reason to keep it hidden.

Bilbo's doubts were constant on a regular day, checking in with Thorin frequently on whether he was satisfying him well enough. The answer was always yes, but then the hobbit would remark on how he could've gone on a little longer, with more licking and sucking, but Thorin rubbed at the hobbit's head and affirmed that his skills were appreciated.

But, as established earlier, a regular day this was not.

In fact, tonight was one where Bilbo was making it severely difficult to keep their affairs private; he obsessed over Thorin's cock like they were parting ways, stroking the shaft firmly with his right hand and rubbing at a thigh with the other. His tongue started from the base, lurking under his husband's dark curls and carried upward to the bottom of the head. For a period of time, Bilbo only coated the length with his tongue, ensuring every inch of skin was painted with saliva before he finally invited the tip into his mouth. The couple had stripped themselves of their clothing before getting into bed, so Thorin had full view to marvel at his husband's body, his round arse swaying while he was being tended to.

The dwarf wanted to praise how well he was sucking him off, but Bilbo hadn't glanced up at him once since starting. This made Thorin fear that if he were to talk then his focus would be frazzled. So Bilbo continued to suck, purposely pressing Thorin's fat, leaking head towards his uvula- testing if he had finally been able to remove his reflex. With the help of the ring, he was convinced that he had and would go on in the future to try this method again, only to be sorely disappointed.

"If this keeps up, I'll have nothing left to give," Thorin shuddered at the depths his cock had traveled into his eager husband's throat. There must be an end to this now, or else shame would be plastered over his face when he'd have no choice but to climax prematurely. The talented hobbit removed himself from the shaft, but left the head positioned between his lips, finally looking up at Thorin with mischievous eyes. He offered a gentle suck at the tip, making Thorin shudder again, it was then that he let go entirely. Bilbo moved on to his next action, which was to insert his husband in a tighter cavern, but Thorin caught on quickly. He sat up and pressed a gentle hand to Bilbo's chest. "You are much too giving," Thorin said, "The night has only started. I would assume you'd want your own worship."

"This is my worship," Bilbo countered, "Seeing you in shambles from my touch."

Thorin brought his hand down to Bilbo's nipple and rubbed his thumb over it. If nothing else worked, then a light brush across his pink bud always sent the hobbit simmering to submission. Like a flick of a fire, Bilbo's bravado ceased to make room for rapture. His body shivered, mouth left open in a gasp, and his own stiffness began to leak. He whimpered his dwarf husband's name like a note crafted from Heaven, juxtaposed to the evil entity that still held onto him. A violent thought crossed Thorin's mind, one to take Bilbo in a single thrust and use his body till he expelled all his cum deep in the cave of his deliciously tight arse.

"It is my turn," Thorin said, "Lay on your back for me."

The couple rearranged as Thorin requested. Bilbo, still reeling, didn't argue about lying down with a pillow propping him. Thorin kneeled between Bilbo's thighs, basking in the picturesque vision that was his partner, his best friend- and dare he be poetic- soulmate. He looked the same as he did when they were first introduced, save for a couple strands of graying hair. Could you blame the hobbit? With his adventures, Thorin was shocked he didn't have a whole bed of grayness!