One Smitten Kitten.

Nothing Gold Can Stay by @perkynurples ​

Rating; Teen

Bilbo Baggins led a rather peaceful life, thank you very much, until an old acquaintance decided to turn it upside down, and he found himself agreeing to take a job that’s… let’s say not exactly up his alley, and might eventually cost him a little more than his treasured cozy lifestyle. Who would have thought tutoring a slightly menacing monarch’s more than slightly overbearing nephew could prove to be such an adventure?

hello i have a plotbunny and its just bby frodo asking uncle thorin to sing the mountain song every night and it puts him right to sleep but it wakes up uncle bilbo *wink wink*

The first time Bilbo had heard Thorin sing, it had bewitched him - had seduced him into joining a quest across half of Arda against impossible odds, to face a foe they had little chance of defeating. 

It seemed improbable that on top of a commandingly regal presence, captivatingly handsome looks and exceptional talent as a warrior one dwarf could also be blessed with a bewitchingly beautiful voice, but there was no doubt that Mahal had gifted Thorin as such. Deep and soulful, enthralling whether he was addressing his people, shouting orders to the armies under his command, or murmuring into Bilbo’s ear. 

All dwarrow were musical in some fashion, and most sang. Rhythm was a part of most of their crafts, and ballads or songs played a major role in most of their storytelling. It had been fitting that it was a song, sung by a king in exile, that would lead to a change in the fates of the dwarrow of Erebor. 

It was also fitting that Frodo, now officially a ward of the King and Consort under the mountain, learned the ways and history of the place he now lived from songs sung at his bedside. Bilbo had known how treasured children were to dwarrow, rare as they are. He’d known that Thorin had been a large presence in his nephews lives. He hadn’t anticipated just how much the entire company would adore Frodo, and just how much Thorin would dote upon him. Bilbo had worried Frodo may become spoiled once he figured out just how easily he could get whatever he wanted from Thorin simply by asking; but Frodo was a good boy, and asked for little. His most common request was something he didn’t need to ask for much anymore, as it had quickly become habit; for Thorin to sing him to sleep. It appeared a love for Thorin’s voice was a Baggins trait. 

Bilbo was often torn during this part of their nightly routine. On one hand, watching Thorin and Frodo interact in any manner warmed his heart, but on the other… he couldn’t help but feel guilty, and a little inappropriate, at just how much he enjoyed hearing Thorin sing. He often listened from the doorway for a little while, and as Frodo’s eyes started to droop, he’d retreat out of Frodo’s room and into their living quarters. 

Tonight, Frodo has wrangled two songs from Thorin; after listening to Thorin sing of the great forges, Frodo had requested his favourite. Thorin had of course said yes and now Bilbo is stirring his tea on their couch before the fireplace and trying not to think of how listening to his husband sing of misty mountains to his nephew pooled warmth in both his heart and his belly. Eru, that voice. It is a good thing Bilbo is no longer a tween, else he’d be sporting inappropriate evidence of the effects it had on him all over Erebor. It didn’t help in the slightest that Thorin, the sod, was well aware of the power it could wield over him, and delighted in using it at every opportunity. 

“You’re concentrating very hard on that tea, marali”

Like now, apparently. Thorin is leaning over the back of the couch, and had no doubt deliberately placed himself so that when he spoke his words would echo down Bilbo’s spine and his breath tickle over the top of his ear. Bilbo was loath to encourage such behavior, but he was only a hobbit. And hobbits were nothing if indulgent in their pleasures. 

“I think we both know it wasn’t the tea I was concentrating on”

Thorin hums, deep and drawn out, whilst sliding a hand over his other shoulder and gently stroking across his collarbone and up his neck. His fingers swirled over his ear, and up into his hair - gently cupping the side of his head, encouraging him to lean into it and allow Thorin more room to apply his mouth to the other side. It didn’t take much temptation for him to acquiesce. 

“And what else could have had your attention, hmm? Were you listening to the Usrunu’okhbib, learning of our forges along with Frodo?”

“Listening perhaps, but hardly learning”

Thorin gently trails his mouth and beard along the edge of Bilbo’s ear. 

“Oh? Are you well versed in forging already?”

Bilbo’s chuckle is breathier than he’d hoped. 

“Not quite. I’m a poor student when the teachers voice is so fine - perhaps I’ll have to ask for it to be repeated, so I might hear it again and learn a little more of it”

“When asked so nicely, I can’t imagine any teacher would have the will to deny you, marali”

And so Thorin starts to sing. In Khuzdul. Directly into Bilbo’s ear. He can practically feel the rumbling consonants vibrating in his bones. In retaliation, Bilbo reaches up and slides a hand into Thorin’s hair, massaging his skull and tugging gently at the roots. 

Thorin’s next words come out even throatier and Bilbo can’t help but grip a little harder. It’s a feedback loop of pleasures, and ends up with Thorins teeth around the tip of his ear while he growls as Bilbo tugs impatiently at Thorins hair and pants. Impatient, Bilbo turns and uses his grip on one of Thorin’s braids to pull him around from the back of the couch and onto his lap instead. Thorin is broad and warm above him, and wastes no time applying his mouth to Bilbo’s and his fingers to Bilbo’s shirt. 

Thoring barely moves back, so his muttered words are spoken right into Bilbo’s mouth, and he can feel that lustful voice vibrating against his lips- 

“Galthûn”  he growls “we should take this elsewhere and see how you shall sing for me”