Notes: Alright, so here it is, the explicitness that has been requested. This is set just between the time jump in the previous chapter. I do apologise that it's not just fluff, some plot elements sneaked their way in.

The whole idea of Bilbo in a dress at the end...that's blatendly borrowed from Moonbeam's lovely story Recovery, Redemption and Romance. I just thought the idea was priceless so...there you are.

Interlude - You're Mine

"I had to know..." Thorin breathed into his ear, "Eighty years is a long time, and you had no way of knowing that there was even a chance we could be reunited. I had at least that." His hand closed over Bilbo's right that was still holding the ring, "I was hoping you'd know what I was trying to say with it..." It had been a far shot from the usual dwarven courting rituals, but Thorin was dying then, and there was no other way to show Bilbo... "I will make it up to you...I will try to make you forget all those years..."

Bilbo had had enough...enough of talking at least. And thus he silenced Thorin the only way he knew would work.
Tangling his fingers in the dwarf's long hair, he pulled Thorin's face down until their lips met in a kiss that was nothing like that first chaste kiss they had shared all those years ago. Back then, Bilbo had been too shocked by what was happening to properly participate, but now he took charge. His tongue delved into the dwarf's mouth, mapping it with as much attention as he had given the maps he drew back in Bag End. That little flick of his tongue made Thorin moan, and that nibble to the dwarf's lower lip made Thorin pull him closer yet. And Bilbo filed everything away for future use.

When they finally pulled apart, they were both panting and Thorin's eyes, those beautiful eyes, were more black pupil than deep blue iris. "Bilbo..." No! No more words! It had been eighty years since they had been together, eighty years since their last night in Esgaroth. And something snapped in the usually so quiet and composed hobbit. Quickly getting his bearings he all but pushed Thorin towards the door, earning him a smile and a husky, "Someone's eager..." Well yes, thank you very much. It had been way too long, and Thorin's stupid ideas of a hobbit wife and children... He was going to show his dwarf once and for all that there was no one else, that there could be no one but Thorin.

Reaching the bedchamber at long last, Bilbo all but attacked the lacing of the dwarf's, like his travelling outfit had been, blue like his eyes... But Thorin's hands were just as busy with the hobbit's somewhat oversized clothes...his older self had been a little more on the round side of things. Before long they were both bare chested and barefoot, and Bilbo pushed the dwarf onto the soft bed, and gasped. All the scars he remembered, the scars he had traced with lips and fingers, they were gone. Thorin's chest was only hard planes now, as if chiselled out of rock. Tenderly he ran his fingers through the curly hair...Valar, how he had missed the softness of it...until his palm came to rest over Thorin's rapidly beating heart. It was beating...strongly and powerfully and so very much alive. Not like the last time Bilbo's hands had rested on the dwarf's chest...

After Thorin had presented Bilbo with his ring, the hobbit had reached up for one last caress, his hand coming to rest on Thorin's bandaged chest. And he had felt it, the final flutter of the dwarven king's heart, and then it had been silent and the world had turned darker for his passing. Unwanted tears welled in Bilbo's eyes, and he angrily tried to blink them away lest Thorin would see them. But he was too late. Gently, Thorin wiped them away, eyes searching the hobbit's. And as if he could read Bilbo's mind, he whispered, "It's not a dream, Bilbo... But if it were, never let us awaken." He pulled Bilbo down to place a tender kiss on the hobbit's forehead.

Bilbo smiled when he pulled away, tears forgotten. Yes, this was real, that beating heart under his palm was real...but if it should be a dream, yes, he never wished to wake. How he had yearned to see Thorin's face again, to touch it even if it was only one last time. But it wouldn't be. They had all the time in the world now and nothing and no one would ever be able to tear them apart again. Not even a second Arkenstone, Bilbo would see to that. So he moved his hands, fingers trailing a path to Thorin's collarbone and then up to his chin and the soft scratch of the dwarf's beard, the lips that could light up his world with a simple smile...lips that were now somewhat swollen from their kiss. The noble nose, and strong forehead. And the soft curls, still touched by silver in places...

His heart was swelling with every passing moment, healing itself. Thorin was his. His! And with that thought, he brought their lips back together in a more tender kiss than the first one, although eventually desire took over and their tongues were sliding together in an endless duel...or so it would have been if the need for air hadn't forced them apart eventually. And when Bilbo felt something press into the soft skin of his thigh, he chuckled, "Who's eager now?" Thorin tried to pull him down for another kiss, but Bilbo wriggled out of the dwarf's grasp. "Now now...patience is a virtue." Thorin just growled at him, but the growl turned into a moan as Bilbo slid down the dwarf's body to come to rest between those strong legs, his lips mere inches from Thorin's straining hardness.

Grey eyes caught blue, and Bilbo ran the tip of his tongue over his lips. To know how much Thorin wanted him, that after eighty years he still held as much power over nearly undid Bilbo right then. But he took a deep breath to catch himself and slowly undid the lacings of Thorin's pants. Soon he could see his prize outlined through the fabric of the dwarf's undergarments, and unable to help himself, he blew cold air on it. Thorin shuddered, eyes shut tight, his right hand clenched in a fist on his forehead. "Please..." So needy, so very un-kingly...and all because of a small hobbit. Bilbo smirked. Where before, places had always been reversed, now it was Thorin writhing under the hobbit's ministrations, and it was Thorin who made those noises that fueled both Bilbo's braveness and his desire to possess what was his.

Within minutes, the remainder of the dwarf's clothing had been dealt with and Bilbo's mouth was stretched around Thorin's hardness. And the taste that flooded Bilbo's very being, so quintessentially Thorin... he could feel himself growing addicted to it. How could he have forgotten that? And that musky scent... Bilbo could have spent hours drinking it all in, all the sensations and would have still remained thirsty for more. But Thorin's large hands gently but insistently pulled him up into a kiss and then rested his forehead against the hobbit's. Oh Valar, his eyes... Filled with so much trust and love along with desire... "Please..." Bilbo could hardly believe that the great Thorin Oakenshield was asking him for...

A small vial of scented oil was placed into his suddenly shaking hands. "Are you sure?" He had to know, needed the confirmation. What he got was a nod and a tender kiss and some whispered...endearments? Khuzdul. Just the sound of that secret dwarven language made Bilbo's heart beat faster. Thorin should be forbidden from ever using it around the hobbit. From that very first time when Thorin, with just one word, shut up the other companions...Bilbo had felt it in his very marrow. So authoritative, so passionate... So very different from the whispers Bilbo heard now, but it would always, always, have the same effect on the hobbit.

Another deep breath stopped his fingers from shaking too much as he slowly and gently prepared the dwarf beneath him, eyes firmly fixed on Thorin's face so he would see if he caused the dwarf any discomfort. He couldn't bare that. After shedding the rest of his garments, he liberally coated himself and once more inquired if Thorin was indeed willing to go through with this. Bilbo was ready to trade places in a heartbeat, no matter how exhilarated he felt by being given control over their lovemaking. And for a moment he believed that he would have to do exactly that. Thorin looked...apprehensive...but then he nodded, "Please..." And Bilbo sank into tightness and heat, into the very furnace beneath him; Thorin's fire threatening to burn him to a cinder, body and soul.

He held still then, his body's needs secondary to the desire to make sure Thorin was alright, to give the dwarf time to grow accustomed to the intrusion. And when Thorin rolled his hips experimentally, Bilbo knew he could finally move again and released the breath he had been holding. Slowly they rocked together, and Bilbo would have loved to keep up the slow and languid pace, would have loved to take as much time as possible. But it had been too long, and they were both too close to their peaks already. And when Thorin's hand closed around his own arousal, Bilbo's joined him and after only a few strokes, Thorin contracted around him and Bilbo felt himself falling...falling...and only the solid body beneath him anchored him. He slumped down on Thorin's chest and for a few minutes the world went blissfully black.


When he came to, he had been placed on his back and a warm cloth was clearing away the evidence of their coupling. A warm cloth in a big dwarven hand... Thorin's hand. And everything came flooding back...they were in Valinor, they were together. Bilbo could only smile up at his dwarf, his hands reaching for Thorin's face and, pulling himself up, he placed a soft kiss on the dwarf's lips. He would have loved to stay like this forever, if it hadn't been for his stomach that had chosen precisely that moment to make itself heard.

Thorin chuckled, "I'm glad to see that you're still a proper hobbit...yes, your stomach is still working like clockwork." Bilbo swatted the dwarf's arm, or tried to. His hand was caught in a bigger one, and a gentle kiss was placed on his knuckles. "I will see what I can find in the kitchen before you eat yourself up from the inside out..." Quickly pulling on his pants, Thorin almost ran from the room before Bilbo could throw something at him. A proper hobbit indeed. He would show Thorin how very proper he could be! After he found something to wear...

His old clothes, strewn all over the floor, were at least two sizes too big for him now. And so he got up and padded over to the large chest of drawers that stood next to the fireplace. It was getting chilly, so Bilbo decided to get a fire started once he'd made himself somewhat more Thorin at least. He opened the top drawer and found some shirts and pants, Thorin's of course, so he wouldn't even have to try the pants... Grabbing a shirt, he pulled it over his head and almost burst into laughter. It looked like a dress on him. Oh well, he would probably have to make do with his old garments until such a time he could buy some new ones. He had seen a market at the harbour earlier from the corner of his eyes, and even a few hobbits... So maybe he would be able to procure some new clothing...

Busying himself with flint and stone...he had watched Óin and Glóin often enough as they set up camp...he soon had a roaring fire going. The warmth was soaking into his bones and he smiled to himself. That morning he had still wondered how he would fit into Valinor, and now...his life had been turned upside down. His dwarven friends were here... and Thorin. Above all Thorin. Instinctively he reached into the shirt and drew out the ring. How he had ever called the One Ring his Precious was beyond him now. It was this ring that was his most precious possession. But even that paled in comparison to how precious Thorin himself was to Bilbo... Shaking his head to himself, his eyes fell once more on the chest of drawers, and, his curiosity peaked, Bilbo wandered over to it again.

Pulling open the second drawer, Bilbo nearly froze in shock. It could not be... There lay an exact copy of the armour and travelling gear Thorin had worn throughout most of their adventures. The velvety tunic, a blue so dark it almost seemed black, the fur coat... Bilbo still remembered Thorin putting it around his shoulders during the cold nights in Mirkwood and his hand reached out to stroke the soft fur. He had loved those moments when it seemed to be just the two of them, had lived for them. And now...what they had shared just moments ago meant so much more. There was no more doubt about what the future might hold, no more least in that respect.

The touch of a gentle hand to the small of his back made Bilbo nearly jump out of his skin. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to startle you." Thorin placed a kiss on his temple. "This is what I wore when I woke up... I left it in this drawer It's how you knew me, I didn't want you to think you were seeing a ghost..."

"Frodo has to see you in this... I've told him so much about you...and the rest of the Company." Frodo... For a moment he wondered how his nephew was doing, but then fingers stroking his cheek gently brought him back to the present.

"And he will, I am looking forward to meeting him. A remarkable hobbit, just like his uncle... Who is either wearing a dress or my shirt..." Bilbo glared. "Open the bottom drawer." The hobbit complied and found a wrapped pack. "A gift from Aulë... He visited two weeks ago informing us that the Last Ship would arrive soon. Then he handed this to me with the words, 'For Master Baggins' and left." Bilbo looked up questioningly. "Oh I don't know what it is, Bilbo. It is, after all, for you."

Holding his breath, Bilbo slowly undid the ties and opened the wrapping. And both he and Thorin gasped. "It's my old clothes." And indeed it was his shirt and pants, his waistcoat...buttons and all...and his red jacket. "Thorin..."

"It would seem the powers that be want to both remind us of the past, but also give us a chance to reforge our fate..." He reverently stroked the velvet of the coat. "We are not who we were back then, Bilbo. Will you allow me to get to know my burglar again? And I promise, no more Arkenstones..." Placing the garments on top of the chest of drawers, Bilbo threw his arms around the tall dwarf, nodding into his shoulder. "I will make it up to you, Bilbo... I will..." And then the hobbit's stomach once again announced it's presence and Thorin chuckled, "Right after we do something about that ravenous beast you seem to harbour within you..." And with that he pulled Bilbo to the bed and the tray with food and plates and also a jug of ale and two tankards.

And as Bilbo decimated the food laid out before him, ever so often glancing at the smiling dwarf next to him, the hobbit knew that, at long last, he had come home.