Notes: This chapter contains explicit sexual content between a male-bodied male and a female-bodied male, as well as recreational drug use that is not consensual for one partner.
Nori knows at least four ways into Thorin's private forge that don't involve the door, though only one of them is easy, and it at least has shutters and locks to keep people out. Or, in the case of tonight, in. He smiles to himself as he makes sure the key to unlock the shutters is tucked where he can retrieve it later, but Thorin won't find it before he gets into the forge.
The key to the door would be harder to keep away from Thorin, since Nori only has a copy of it, rather than the original. He'll find a way to make sure of that, as well, though. He's not agrìfatâl just to fail to retrieve some key off his lover for a scheme.
Even if this venture means spending half a year or more out of the palace, if not outside of Erebor altogether. Thorin's temper is quite impressive, after all.
Dinner is easy to arrange, something simple and familiar from the early days. He knows Thorin will have chosen to dress simply for working in the forge, as there's no reason to wear finery that will be destroyed by the work, and he finds one of his older outfits to match, instead of the newer finery he can afford. This isn't about what they are now, after all, but what they were.
Agrìfatâl and dohyarâl, nothing more and nothing less. Nori and Thorin, and not Consort and King. Not bound by the rules and traditions that had been shattered when Smaug came to Erebor, and never should be. Nori has no intention of letting Thorin be Melhekh, to be the one who cannot let control out of his grasp, cannot be seen as the receptive partner, always the active one, even if he's the one penetrated.
Shaking his head to get himself out of the mindset, Nori makes sure the meal is well-packed before he goes to Thorin's forge, ignoring the door in favor of the high window that he shutters and locks, before moving across the stone beams that cross the space close under the ceiling. Tucking the key where he has to balance carefully in order not to fall while placing it or retrieving it later.
Thorin still has his focus on the blade he's shaping when Nori drops from the rafters to the floor, and Nori leaves him to it while setting dinner out of the way, and leaning against the wall to watch Thorin at work. He's missed this, a bit, watching his lover at the end of the day, finishing his final piece.
Only after Thorin has set it aside, the blade done save for the sharpening, does Nori push from the wall, sauntering toward Thorin with a smirking smile on his lips. "Dohyarâl."
Tilting his head, Thorin's lips twitch, one eyebrow raising a moment before he responds in kind. "Agrìfatâl." Wordlessly asking Nori what he's doing, and why he's decided it requires ambushing Thorin here, of all places.
Nori just smiles a little wider, stopping only when he's standing toe-to-toe with Thorin. It's almost the same as when he'd first taken refuge in what he'd thought was an empty forge. An easy enough mistake when it was most of the way to dawn, and there were no lights to be seen outside. Since, he's not always been sure if he should curse his own foolishness in not making certain it was empty, or to celebrate his good fortune in finding Thorin still there despite the hour.
Tonight, he thinks it's a bit of both. He leans in to steal a kiss from Thorin, not asking, and not apologizing after. Just grinning, and daring Thorin to do something about it. Waiting until Thorin's shifted his weight to snag Nori before dancing backward, smirking broadly at the scowl that earns him.
"I brought dinner to share." Nori tilts his head to the bench where he'd set the small basket. It's similar to some of the meals they'd shared in Ered Luin, bread and meat pies, and a small bottle of cheap wine. Nothing like he could command in Erebor, just as himself, never mind as Consort.
"Did you?" Thorin glances at the basket before studying Nori for a long moment. When he makes to move toward the deep stone basin constantly full of water, Nori moves closer, cutting him off, and leaning against him. He knows where Thorin usually keeps the key, and he's been careful not to make Thorin suspect something so he might change that.
Nori doesn't even say anything, just presses a quick, sharp-edged kiss to Thorin's lips as he lightly lifts the key from where it rests. "I like you when you've just finished." He slides one hand down Thorin's back, tugging at the straps of the heavy leather apron that protects Thorin at his work. "Though this is going to get in the way."
Thorin gives him an amused look, but obliges by untying the apron, going to hang it beside the water-basin. He ignores Nori's deliberately audible sigh, scooping up water to wash his face and hands. It's not really a bother, though, since it allows Nori to slip toward the door, sliding the key noiselessly into the lock. The snick of the tumblers is unavoidable, but from here, it's an easy jump to the rafters, and he can stash the key in the same almost-inaccessible place as the other.
He drops back to the floor, raising his chin slightly as Thorin glares at him for locking them in.
"What are you up to, Nori?" Thorin rolls his sleeves down, fastening the cuffs before he crosses his arms over his chest. Looking at him with an irritated expression. Not the best beginning to the evening, but Nori can - has - worked with worse, if not usually with Thorin.
Nori shrugs, going to unpack dinner from the basket, setting out two portions. Not bothering to answer Thorin's question - after all, it should be easy enough to figure out. Some of it, anyway. That he wants to make Thorin forget the now, perhaps is not so apparent, not to Thorin.
"No need to have someone walk in unexpectedly, is there?" Nori sits on the bench, leaning against the wall with his knees spread wide, making himself as open as he can, to make Thorin relax some. To let Thorin think that really, all he has in mind is a tumble. It's not out of the question, after all.
Thorin snorts, coming over after a moment, and straddling the bench to eat what Nori has brought. He pulls the cork from the wine, and sniffs it before giving Nori a curious look. "You could have bought something better."
"That would have been wasted on this." Nori gestures to the bread and pies they've nearly finished between them, and meets Thorin's gaze steadily. And more expensive wine has a more easily disturbed flavor, and no need to have Thorin realize Nori's adulterated the wine before-hand. Thorin the smith might have been willing to indulge a little, but Nori's afraid Thorin the King will refuse just on principle.
Never mind that Nori's made sure of their safety, and that he's made sure they won't be found still intoxicated. He might owe several favors by the time this is over, but it will be worth it. He needs to see Thorin just stop being constantly wrapped up in the role, just for a few hours. Just to see his âzyungâl beneath the melhekh.
Once Thorin's taken a long sip, Nori holds out his hand for the bottle. He wants - needs - to be as much out of his head for a night as he needs to see dohyarâluh. His, not Erebor's, not the people's.
They share the bottle between them, and Nori's just corked it to set it back in the basket when Thorin's eyes narrow, and his gaze settles on Nori. The effects had begun to worm their way through Nori earlier, but he's leaner than Thorin, and had eaten less. It's about time Thorin started to feel the blasted concoction.
Leaning in, Nori moves the basket to the floor, kissing Thorin before he can voice whatever is on his mind. Hungry and sharp, and intensely aware of the feel of Thorin's shirt he's fisted in his hand, of Thorin's beard, of the bench beneath his arse, the mountain all around them, pressing in on them comfortingly. Some khazâd feel that without any help, Nori isn't so sensitive.
Thorin groans, and his hands come up, warm on Nori's shoulders, fingers holding tightly, though there's a moment of hesitation as if he's not sure he'd rather pull Nori close or shove him away. In the end, he drags himself away from Nori's kiss, pupils blown and making his eyes look nearly black.
"Mixed it myself." Nori reaches up to stroke his fingers through Thorin's hair, not giving his dohyarâl a chance to ask anything. Especially not questions he doesn't want nor intends to answer right now. "Would take a hobbit to reach us right now, or an enraged Dwalin." Depending on the direction someone tried to come. Nori knows the strengths and weaknesses of Thorin's forge very well; he had to before doing anything like this.
He knows the movement of his fingers is distracting to Thorin, and he keeps it up, though it's distracting him nearly as much. Where is dohyarâluh, where... ah, there. A glimpse, and Nori dives in, kissing Thorin again, pressing close when Thorin doesn't try to push him away again. Tightening his hands in Thorin's hair, tugging carefully on the fine, dense strands to draw a groan from Thorin that he swallows down.
Thorin's hands tighten on Nori's shoulders, but there's no wavering this time, just a tug that pulls Nori closer, close enough for him to feel the heat and damp at the juncture of Thorin's legs against his thigh. As hungry as Nori for sex, even if he would have pushed away the offer of the concoction to go with the evening. At least there's that much.
Nori disentangles a hand from Thorin's hair, deftly avoiding the softness of Thorin's breast to bring his hand to rest on Thorin's hip, tugging until Thorin straddles Nori, heat pressed against Nori's swiftly hardening cock. Letting Nori roll his hips up against Thorin, giving them both a brief taste of what's to come.
Thorin first realizes what Nori has done when the song of the stone shifts. Almost a roar, low and building, like flames through the pines that are recolonizing the slopes of Erebor. Too aware of the fire that lies in the deep heart of the Mountain, the first sparking flames that lick at the edges of his mind.
He had thought Nori wanting to live some bit of their past, when they could both pretend he could be all Nori's. He had been willing, even, to go as far as he could allow himself, to let down his guard and perhaps even allow himself to be the receptive partner. As far as he could, with the weight of the Mountain truly resting on his shoulders as it had not before the journey back home.
He had not thought Nori would be this foolish, to take them this deeply into what they had been before; had thought Nori understood what Thorin being King Under the Mountain in truth meant. That he had been mistaken cuts into him, a wound he cannot either ignore or easily repair.
Nori's lips on his are warm, hunger in the kiss that he answers without thought, bringing his hands up to grip Nori's shoulders. He's not entirely certain, for a moment, if he wants to encourage Nori or to push him away. In the end, he can't quite do either, and pulls away, keeping his grip on Nori's shoulders to hold him in place.
"I mixed it myself." There's mixed challenge and pleading in Nori's voice, something that seems almost like desperation; he knows he's done something wrong. It's there in his eyes, in his voice, in the hand coming up to comb through Thorin's hair, neatly avoiding the slim braid that tucks behind Thorin's ear. "Would take a clever hobbit or an enraged Dwalin to reach us right now."
An attempt to reassure him they're safe, and won't be interrupted. That no one will discover Thorin half out of his mind, and incapable of keeping to his role as he should. It's a secret pleasure that should have been left in the Blue Mountains, in a now-quiet forge.
If Thorin hadn't already known his guards would not disturb him at his forge, it would have done nothing for his comfort, and even so, it does nothing to reassure him that Nori thought this through. Only that Nori planned as he might have before.
There's a moment of quiet, as Thorin tries to see if Nori has any inkling of just what he's actually done, and Nori searches his face, though for what, Thorin doesn't know. He almost wishes, for a moment, that they were back in the Blue Mountains, and this wouldn't be such a problem.
Nori leans in again, and Thorin doesn't try to stop him, pushing his pain down and away for a moment. He lets himself pull Nori closer, to respond to the kiss, to the hands that are roaming. Thorin knows Nori would not go so far as to invite anyone else to see, or leave a way for others to easily catch them, for all that he doesn't understand Thorin cannot allow himself this much loss of control.
He moves when he feels Nori's hand on his hip, feeling Nori's cock hard between his legs as he straddles the leaner dwarf. Rocking down into Nori as Nori bucks upward, both seeking friction, and not finding enough. He slides his hands from Nori's shoulders to the clasps that hold Nori's coat shut, undoing them deftly, despite the rising tide of hunger that demands more contact sooner. He will not let himself destroy even so simple a thing as a coat in his quest for more.
Nori's hands are already in his trousers before Thorin can push the coat free, and sliding between slick folds, finding the knot of flesh that makes Thorin hiss and groan. He wants more, wants closer, but he can't get that with Nori's hands busy, and pulls away reluctantly.
The hint of worry in Nori's face makes some part of him, the same petty part that got caught up in the gold, viciously glad. Thorin pushes that away, moving to strip his shirt over his head, to lean over to untie his boots, listening to Nori moving to do the same. Stripped bare as quickly as Thorin has stripped himself, and reaching once more for Thorin.
Hungry touches, and Nori's skillful fingers between Thorin's legs again, his lips rough against Thorin's own. Doing his best to drive thought from Thorin's mind, and likely from his own, and the rising desire will do that well enough. Could perhaps have done it well enough on its own.
Thorin pushes into the kiss, and Nori runs the hand not busy between Thorin's legs through Thorin's hair. Distracting him in a way that works entirely too well, scattering thoughts and leaving him more concerned with pleasure than anything else. Nori manipulates him with an expert and familiar touch, bringing Thorin toward the peak, but not letting him get too close to the edge.
It's work of a moment for them to sink to the floor, Thorin letting his head fall back against cool stone, the roar of flame in his ears, and Nori all he can see as the thief leans over him. He will not beg, it would take a good deal more to leave him that far gone, but Nori isn't looking for that. Only holds Thorin's gaze as he presses his cock to Thorin's entrance, sliding inside without resistance.
Rocking into Thorin, his hands on Thorin's hips, and avoiding exploring too much, avoiding the softness of Thorin's breast as he always does. Pressing a thumb to the knot of flesh that has Thorin bucking his hips up in silent plea for more. He will not beg, but his body has no such compunction, betraying the intensity of his want as Nori thrusts harder, faster.
He groans as he finds his pleasure, closing his eyes as he rides out the spasms and fire along his nerves. Nori continues to move, drawing him higher before he can come down, the fire twisting tighter as Nori leans down to kiss him, forehead resting against Thorin's after. He comes again before Nori loses rhythm, and spends inside of him.
They rest together, the song of the stone still loud in Thorin's ears, and the sense of hurt that he'd pushed away simmering in the back of his mind. He ignores it for the moment, reaching for Nori's coat to draw over them as a meager blanket, as they had done in the Ered Luin.
The consequences of this can wait until morning, when his mind is clear again.
rakhus = villain
agrìfatâl = thief
dohyarâl = smith
melhekh = king
âzyungâl = lover
dohyarâluh = his smith
khazâd = dwarves
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.