Archive of Our Own

"You have seen me before." There is no mistaking the hurt in my brother's voice.

"I have," I acknowledge. Because it is true. I have seen him unclothed before. Often. And while I have looked upon his bare form with more than passive eyes, it was never with such an all-consuming sense of urgency. This violent need. "But not like this. Not knowing that ..." I shake my head. What am I saying? Can I even begin to explain this? How can one describe, or even justify, what I am about to do to him? Shaking my head again, in firm dismissal, I slip the dagger's point between fabric and leather lacing, easily cutting through the fastenings that hold the front of Kili's tunic closed. His head is bowed as he watches the blade pull apart one of the few layers that stand as a barrier between us. I push the steel edge between skin and cloth, meaning to slide the garment off his shoulder with a flick of the wrist. My hand is slightly trembling ... from anticipation, I tell myself.

Kili's long fingers wrap around my own in an unrelenting grip, halting the dagger's course. "There is no need," he whispers, almost sounding defeated.

His eyes are still downcast when I look up in surprise. What is he saying? What is the meaning of this? Will he come to me willingly, then? Strangely enough, the thought disappoints me and I am unable to mask the disdain in my tone as I ask, "You would submit to me?"

"No!" His grasp tightens and he meets my gaze, rebelliousness burning bright. It satisfies me to no end. Yet his next words are tinged with such discernment that I am left to wonder when it is that my brother became so wise. "Dawn may find us on a battlefield, Fili. Fighting for our home. For our very lives. Wars are fought between enemies. This ..." He squeezes my hand around the hilt, brandishing the dagger between us. "This is a weapon of war, brother. Meant to maim. It was made to kill." He sighs, releasing some of the pressure on his hold. "I understand what you want from me. But would you further my defilement by adding to it the use of cold steel? Is it bloodshed that you seek, then? My bloodshed?"

"Enough!" I let go of the weapon with a hiss, as if it burned the palm of my hand. His words hit too close to home. Yes, I want his bloodshed. Though not drawn from a blade. My aim is not to injure him. I wish to possess him. Taste him. Be a part of him. I want to feel the flow of blood pumping through his veins, giving him life. I need to be inside of him, sense him from within. Have him all around me - encompassing me. Consuming me.

If only this once.

"On the bed." I shove at him, pushing and yanking until he is on his knees with his back to me. The tunic is already hanging off one shoulder and so I make short work of it, removing his boots as well. I drop everything over the edge of the mattress, my own boots following closely behind.

Sitting back on my heels, I take a moment to slow my erratic heartbeat, calm my breathing. And I watch him. He is motionless, his arms and head hanging loosely, just as his drawstring pants hang low and snug below his waistline, the shape of a hipbone jutting out invitingly. I reach forward to touch it, my fingers tracing over the warm flesh. Nothing. No reaction. I grab him more firmly, shifting until my chest is flush against his back, wishing at once that I had removed my own clothing. Still nothing. I grit my teeth, letting my hand travel to his front, following the trail of curls to his navel and further up, over soft skin and taut lines of muscle. The contact gives me shivers, little bolts of energy traveling from my fingertips and jolting across my nervous system. He is all heat yet glacial at the same time. He remains stoic, a far cry from the dejection I had first interpreted in his stance - in his body language. Or lack thereof. All the more frustrating; I would rather have to deal with dejection than this cold resignation.

"You said you wouldn't submit to me," I accuse him out of irritation, provoking him.

Kili flinches at my words and I lean into him, soft breath against the shell of his ear. "If you will not yield, then where is your resistance, brother?" I hate the idea of him being passive. It does not become him. I prefer him fighting me every inch of the way. "Why aren't you trying to flee?"

It is but a mere glance over his shoulder but the look that Kili gives me is enough to leave me in a state of rage. "You will see this buggery through out of pity?" Because there is no mistaking what I saw in his eyes. "You will let me violate you out of sympathy?" By now, I am near to yelling. I cannot believe this. Such gall!

"Fili, you are not yourself ..." His voice is strained and I can imagine the thoughts coursing through his mind. The self-sacrifice he is working himself into believing is the right thing to do.

"You are right," I cut him off. "I am not myself." My hand is suddenly at the ties to his pants, pulling on the cord. "Let me show you just how much, dearest Kili."

He does fight me then, trying to tear my hands away as I work on divesting him of his remaining clothes. He twists against me when I pinch a nipple none too gently and he elbows me in the ribs when I make a grab for his flaccid member.

"That's better." I smile into his skin, licking at a shoulder blade before biting into the meat at the base of the neck. It tastes like old sweat and something else. Something distinctively Kili. I run a hand along the side of his flank, the other arm wrapped around his torso, holding him in place. My fingers follow the contour of his ass, dipping into the crack. "You will burn for me," I tell him hotly, burying my face into the thickness of his hair. "Or you will burn from my invasion of your body." Rolling my hips forward, I make sure that he can feel my erection pushing against him. "Either way, I will have you." And you will hate me.

After that, his struggles seem more for show than anything. There is no will or true force behind them. He is smart and will have figured out that his defiance only increases my desire for him. My straining cock is proof enough. No matter. I have a new purpose, other than getting my fill. I intend to have him come undone before I am through with him. And he will hate me all the more for it.

I map the length and breadth of him with barely controlled desperation. My touches are hurried. Rough, even. There is no room for tenderness here. But I cannot forego the pleasure of learning him in such a way for Kili is more than just beautiful to look upon. He is not cut to perfection as Uncle's prized Arkenstone. But he is perfect nonetheless because of all his imperfections. His body is hard and battle-honed after years of training with Thorin and Dwalin yet there remains a certain awkwardness in the way he coordinates his long limbs at times. He is far from graceful but still manages to execute his archery with startling grace. He is loud and exuberant, though I find it endearing most of the time. His youth gives him a certain air of innocence but sometimes the depth of his gaze will leave you near gawking at his sense of clarity. His bouts of maturity. To me, he is many contradictions tightly woven into this wild manner of a dwarf. A lovely prince of Durin blood. And my brother.

Aye, he is beautiful and I love him. Twisted, is it not? That I would desecrate that love by violating him? But I have already accepted my fate. My conscience is free of guilt, despite the feelings that linger at the fore. The sickness runs deep, its firmly-planted roots having grown and coiled themselves around every thought, every emotion. I have no strength to resist the lure of him. Nor do I want to. I must have him.

Pushing him down until he is lying on his front, I nudge his legs apart and pull on the pants and braies still bunched around his knees to rid myself of them before kneeling between his spread thighs. Kili's hands are clenched tightly on either side of his head but he makes no move to escape his predicament.

I lay one hand over a perfectly rounded cheek, fingers stretched atop skin and soft hair. I run my thumb along his cleft and lick my lips, the desire to trace that line with my tongue overwhelming. How will he taste, I wonder? 

Forbidden, comes the unbidden reply.

Leaning forward, I press my forehead to his lower back, nosing into the juncture over his tailbone. I inhale deeply and exhale slowly, warm breath ghosting across his flesh. Kili shudders beneath me.

I cover the other cheek with my second hand, fingers pulling in opposite directions as I open him up to greedy eyes. Swallowing thickly at the sight of puckered skin, I close my eyes and ride the wave of dizziness that assails me unexpectedly. My whole body is suddenly wired from the ripple of fear emanating from him, stronger than before, its intoxicating smell the perfect stimulant intake.

I take the plunge, diving into the crevice of his ass with my tongue, finally tasting him as I so desperately craved. It tastes neither good nor bad. It tastes of want and need and impending sex. It is obscene and I cannot get enough of it. I lave the area with generous licks, sucking at the darkened circle of skin. I hear a muffled whimper from somewhere above and it spurs me on, one finger fighting its way against the ring of muscles at his entrance. But the way is shut. Tightly, at that, whether by instinct or the desire to block my admittance. It does not stop me from forcing my way through, nudging with my finger until the muscles relent and I feel my digit slip into a snug heat. It is too much and not enough at the same time. I can imagine that same close-fitting sensation around my cock and the very idea finds me pushing a second finger in without forethought. Kili's whole body jerks from the intrusion and looking up, I can see that his back muscles are contracted into taut lines. His shoulders and arms are also straining from the assault, hands now fisted into the sheets, his knuckles practically white.

Yet there is no mercy in me as I twist my fingers within him, meaning to stretch him enough to accommodate my girth. I am relentless even when I know I am hurting him, possibly tearing him inside. Especially when I add a third digit.

Most likely too soon for him but not nearly soon enough for me, I pull my hand back, wet fingers fumbling with my belt and pants. The air is cool on my overheated skin once my erection is freed from the constraints of fabric and leather. Sliding an arm around his waist, I draw him back and up towards me. I spit into my palm and coat myself as best as I can. The head of my cock is at his entrance. Kili's back is still rigid with tension. This is it, then? Time to claim my prize?

With no preamble and ignoring all resistance, I drive into him. My brother cries out in pain. I see him stuff a fist into his mouth and know that he will not be making any more sounds no matter what comes next. Though I may not see it, I can practically hear the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes through his suffering, beads of sweat glistening at his temple.

I am seated deep, my cock filling him, unable to go further. The feeling is exquisite. A pulse envelops me, like a silent thrumming, its rhythm steady. Is that the flow of blood rushing through his veins? My own heartbeat seems to adapt to the tempo, naturally - almost as if we were back home, in the Blue Mountains, playing the fiddle together again. Perfect synchronicity.

Being a part of him like this ... it is better than anything I could ever have imagined, no matter the circumstances of our joining.

I start moving behind him, slow and easy at first. His body is still fighting my encroachment and I try to manage my thrusts so it can adapt, somewhat. It will be all the more pleasurable for me if I am able to slip in and out without hindrance. But it is proving difficult. Mahal but his tight heat will be my undoing!

It becomes easier, after a time and finally I can let my passion take the lead, unchecked. As I set a brutal pace, the only sounds echoing through the room are that of my hips slamming against his bruising backside and my breath coming in short pants. A telling silence reigns thickly in the air, otherwise, and I pay it no mind. Kili feels too good and despite the wrongness of the act and how it came to pass, it is right. We are right together.

Or could have been, had I ...

"Curse the gold and all of Erebor," I cry out in anguish. Yet even as I know it wasn't worth it, that nothing was worth desecrating our bond this way, I am condemning my soul to an eternity of grief by finishing what I started. By digging my fingers even further into his flesh, by holding on tighter to his unwilling body and by plunging ever deeper into him - into this irrevocable sin.

When I think that I might just break apart his insides, the orgasm slams through me with such force, ripping a savage scream from my throat as I release thick streams of cum right then and there, having had no time to pull out. My knees buckle under the sudden weakness felt through every limb and I crumble over him in a graceless heap.

Moments pass as I gather my wits and catch my breath, my softening cock having already slipped out of him in a wet slide. Shifting my weight, I roll to the side, pants still gathered around my knees. I can see Kili from this angle, although his face is mostly hidden by strands of dark hair. I glimpse the edge of a nose, a patch of stubbled cheek and damp lashes. I turn him over.

"Kili, look at me." His eyes are closed. He has been crying.

"Look at me!"

He does. But it would have been just as well if he hadn't. His eyes are hollow. There is an emptiness there ... not even hate resides.

His own cock is rigid from arousal, straining against his belly. Perhaps if I offer him release? The plan was to make him come undone after I've had my fill. Yes, that might erase the vacant stare and allow for something else to spark in those dark pools. He should be hating me. He is supposed to hate me. Where is the loathing? The anger?

Clumsily, I go about jerking him off. But it changes nothing, in the end. When he ejaculates all over my hand and his own chest, there is an instant where betrayal flashes brightly, though briefly, in his eyes. And then the emptiness returns.

I stumble back and off the bed, a cold chill descending upon me. My hand is trembling again. Not from anticipation, this time.

As I hold my pants and braies up to my waist and retreat from the scene, knowing the madness to still be of influence over me, it doesn't feel like much of a victory even if I did conquer him, marking him as mine.

As I leave and close the door to the room, I am haunted by images of blood and semen tainting the sheet and Kili's inner thighs. I am haunted by his expressionless face.

But worst of all, I am tormented by the realization that tomorrow, my precious brother just might meet his end having already died from a broken spirit.

Because I have, in fact, managed to deliver the killing blow.

TBC ...