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Even with the (far too few) windows open, even with the covers kicked down to the end of the bed, Billa was much, much too hot to sleep.
"It's a mountain," she complains. "How is it not cool and lovely and dry inside it?"
"Billa," Thorin groans, exasperated. "It's an unseasonably warm night, it will pass."
"Maybe it will rain tomorrow," Billa says hopefully. "Oh, rain, nice and cool." She sits up for a drink of water from the goblet she keeps beside the bed. It's lukewarm at best, so she takes a sip and scoops up a bit to splash on her face and neck, and sighing, leans back and dribbles some on her chest, wetting her nightgown with something other than sweat and, and groans as she lies back down and plucks at the front of it to increase the effect on her skin by fanning it, and satisfied for the moment, sighs.
Five minutes later she's sighing again, annoyed, and trying to find a cool place on the sheets, and Thorin groans, "Just take the gown off, Billa, I promise you it's cooler naked."
Grumping, she sits up and struggles the half-wet thing off her, grabs her hair and braids it angrily into a rough tail and flips it on the pillow behind her. She sighs. It is slightly cooler, but the bed is so warm from her body, her front is cooler and her back is just as sweaty and warm.
"It is so not fair that dwarrow don't feel the heat like we do."
"Believe me, on a night like tonight I feel it," Thorin growls.
"Oh," Billa replies, slightly surprised. "You hadn't said anything."
"No need, with you complaining every two minutes."
Billa huffs. Thorin sighs. Billa tries her best to doze, but unable to find sleep,she kicks at the bed, frustrated.
“And the stupid moon is too bright!”
A moment later, Thorin rolls atop her, his face inches from hers.
"If you don't stop squirming and complaining, wife, I will give you reason to feel hot.”
“Thorin,” Billa complains, arching against him to throw him off. He is sweating, and their bodies slide together and oh, he’s hard and ready for her and she gasps, arching again.
“Really?” she says, gripping his shoulders.
“Squirming and moaning and dripping water on yourself? He rolls his hips against hers and she moves with him instinctively with a small shiver of desire. He kisses her throat, his hair tumbling around them, and she pushes at his shoulders, pressing her hips against him insistently. She glides against him, and it’ s lovely and she responds as always, desire for him causing her to melt into his embrace, trembling.
Then bead of sweat slides down her face, and suddenly she’s aware of everywhere that’s too warm and sweating; under her arms, between her breasts, and the cradle of her hips, where he’s pressing against her, just furnace hot.
“Oh, dearest, it really is too hot,” she moans.
“And yet you shiver,” he says in his lowest voice.
“Thorin,” she whines, still moving against him. “There’s got to be a way….”
He pushes her arms above her head and pins her there, his fingers clasped between hers. “There is, “ he says, his lips a breath away. He nips at her mouth. “I can make you forget about the heat,” he murmurs.
She pushes against his restraining hands and hips with absolutely no intent at breaking free at all. “How,” she growls.
“You will feel nothing but pleasure,” he whispers. Billa mewls, straining upwards for his mouth and he keeps himself just out of reach.
“And I will make you beg for release.” He snaps his hips against hers twice and when she trembles, arching into him, he holds her there, pressed hard against her. Billa shudders, crying out, a short, sharp peak of pleasure shaking her to the core.
“Oh, Mahal, Billa,” Thorin breathes, and takes her mouth, moving against her slow, languid. “The way you respond,” he says between kisses. “Never ceases to amaze.”
“Come, to me, husband,” Billa whispers, arching to twine her legs around him.
“Not yet,” he says, laughter behind his rich, low, tone. “I have plans for you.”
“Oh dear,” she replies in a glum voice, but she is grinning. She wiggles her hips playfully. “You’ve been to the library again, haven’t you?” There is an extensive section of pillow books to instruct lovers how to strengthen their bonds and find delight. Good plans always come from the library.
“Mmmmhmmm,” he admits before kissing her. He slides his hands down her raised arms as he rises. “Promise me to keep still until I say.”
“I promise,” Billa says, already breathless with anticipation.
He lies beside her and slides one hand between her legs. “You must tell me when I am directly on your pearl,” he murmurs, stroking up through her folds, sliding sweet and making an approving hum at how ready she is for him, so soon, and dipping under the tiny hood of flesh covering her most sensitive place. When the pad of his finger finds it, her whole self contacts around the pleasure of it, quivering. “There.” She looks at him, wide-eyed. He smiles and kisses her.
“Keep still,” he commands in her ear, and she moans. And then he moves his finger the the tiniest bit, stroking up, and her body…. ignites. Pleasure races along her limbs, white and sparkling, and it’s so big, so big from just that tiny motion of his finger.
Thorin kisses her temple and keeps up a gentle. steady pace, moving his finger upward, upward, upward against her pearl, and she feels as if she is rising into light, sounds, short pants of pleasure she’s never made before falling from her lips in time with his strokes. She strains to keep still, every fiber in her wanting to move against that lovely pressure, because it’s beautiful and huge and wonderful, but she remains trembling just on the edge of enormous bliss and she cries out against it, longing.
Her hips move slightly and oh, she’s an inch or two closer to what she wants and he hisses, “Be still and it will be even better,” in her ear and she forces herself to stop, forces herself to surrender and be still, and he’s right, it is, oh it is, this rising, trembling lightness, her entire body riveted on the tiny place where he touches her, and then he changes the way his finger moves from upward to down and she is growling, clenching and beating her fists against the bed.
Instead of lightness and rising, the pleasure Thorin gives her is like when he just takes her, pushing her up the bed in with the force of his thrusts, growling in near-feral joy, and the slap of their bodies as they join and the deep animal pleasure of it and oh it is like that, it is like that, and Billa sobs out a breath harshly in frustration and need.
“Please,” she pants, trying not to writhe, and he changes the motion of his finger again, upwards and she has room to think, though she is shaking every moment with pleasure. “Oh please, Thorin. Let me. I’m right, it’s right...oh so lovely...but...please. It would be so sweet to….move.”
“Ah, but you haven’t been sweet, have you, little complainer?”
Billa pants, and has the strength to pick up her hand and hit his shoulder. He twitches his finger downwards and she screams, deep and growling and animal. “Please, Thorin!”
“Not until I rest inside you, glorious wife,” he whispers in her ear. “Not until until I am buried deep within you. And not until I tell you to move.”
Slapping his shoulder, whimpering from that delicious, maddening finger, Billa growls, “Then come to me, husband. I beg of you.” And he is on her, in her, above her, sliding in, slick and easy, fast and deep, and presses against her, tight tight, his finger finding her pearl again, and she shakes on the edge, crying out in frustration.
“Now,” he says, with one final stroke, and they both roll their hips, perfect rhythm from long, lovely practice. Billa throws her head back and screams until her throat is sore, shuddering around him, white light and stars bursting through her, lifting her up so so high. She inhales deep, and her breath sobs out, still caught up in the wonder of it. He moves within her again, sliding slow but deep, and whimpering, she reaches another, smaller peak, so sweet, and tries to wrap her legs around him, but they’re trembling and weak.
Chuckling, Thorin balances himself on one arm, then the other, lifting her unresisting legs around his waist and she locks her ankles and hangs on the best she can.
“Sweet….sweet….you know…” Billa flops a tired hand on the bed.
“Mahal?” he asks sweetly “Yavanna?”
“Somebody,” she breathes, flopping her hand again. “Goodness.”
Thorin chuckles darkly, moving lightly inside her, and Billa responds with a delighted laugh of her own.
“That was...that was….” Billa rolls her head on the pillow and clenches her hands in the sheets. “That was….I….that.”
“You were so beautiful,” he says and kisses her, still moving gently. “Fast or slow?,” he murmurs against her mouth.
“After that, dearest, anything you want.”
A dark, wicked laugh and he snaps his hips against hers, hard and fast, and Billa arches, moaning and laughing, “I knew it.”
“Can you blame me, after hearing you scream for me?” he pants as he takes her. “I want. To hear it. Again.”
“Oh really?” She grins up at him in challenge.
“Better hang onto something,” he warns her, and the second she’s got a grip on the headboard, he picks up his pace, and they slide and roll and crash against one another, sticky and slick with sweat, the wet slap of their bodies joining loud in Billa’s ears, obscene and beautiful and everything she wants.
She starts to rise again, and sighing happily, she uses her grip on the headboard to add a little extra power to her thrusts. Her legs slip a bit, and Thorin growls, and she rallies quickly, wrapping around him and pushes her hips up hard, insistent, rising, rising….
“Thorin,” she gasps. “Thorin….”
“Wait for me.”
“Thorin!”
“Wait,” he says on a thrust, voice rough. “Wait.” Two more thrusts and he twists his hips and presses against her, and holds. “Scream for me,” he growls in her ear, twists his hips, and just like that, she does, pressing against him, shaking, shattering, and he roars with her a second later, arching his back, which adds a tiny bit of extra pressure, and she whimpers as it draws her pleasure out.
Grinning down at her in the moonlight, he wipes his face against his arm and kisses her, hovering above her on his elbows. Billa grins up at him, wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him close.
“Mmmmmm,” she says happily. Thorin huffs a laugh against her neck. They lie entwined for few moments, catching their breath, then Thorin sighs.
“Now it is too hot,” he mutters, and Billa snickers, slapping his back.
“And sticky,” she points out. “But worth it.”
“Mmmmm,” he agrees, mouthing along the edge of her jaw. “Cool bath?”
“Why didn’t you suggest that before?”
“I wasn’t that hot.”
'Liar." Billa smacks him again, mock-growling, and adds a small bump of her heels to the small of his back.
“And there was a naked wife in my bed,” he continues, kissing down her throat.
“I seeee.” She enjoys his nuzzling and kissing for a bit. “Cool bath?” she reminds him.
“I don’t want to leave you,” he whispers, and takes her mouth softly, tender in a way that always catches her breath
“Thorin,” she breathes when he breaks the kiss, and frames his face with her hands. “My love. Thank you for my surprise.”
His smile has all the sweet, genuine innocence and pleasure of a young boy, and her heart fills from the joy of him.
“You make me so happy,” she says, stroking his face. His eyes light with mischief, and he withdraws from her slowly, kissing her breasts as he goes.
“I have some other things that might make you happy,” he grins, scooping her up and striding toward the bathing room.
“Oh my,” she replies. “More?”
“We’ve tried hot,” he says, his voice dipping low. “Let’s try cool.”
“Oooh,” Billa says, kicking her feet happily.
Thorin laughs a very promising laugh.