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Fic - Untitled - 1/1
Title: Untitled
Author: Evandar
Fandom: The Hobbit
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Romance, Smut, Genderswitch
Pairing: Nori/female!Dori
Warnings: Smut, genderswitch, incest
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit and I am making no profit from this story.
Summary: Nori is fascinated with his sister's breasts.
AN: Written for this prompt on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hobbit_kink.
He cuddled in close in the dark, making the most of the relative privacy of their corner in Beorn’s great hall. Ori slept soundly on a mattress nearby, but Dori lay awake in his arms.
They’d bathed, done their laundry, undone and rebraided thir hair and beards during this welcome break from travelling. Now they lay side by side, his head on the soft swell of his sister’s breast and her heartbeat in his ear. Her fingers carded through his hair, disrupting it enough that he knew he’d have to redo it in the morning. He didn’t care; it was as nice to feel her scratching over his scalp as it was to be able to slide his hand underneath her cambric shirt and stroke her breasts through their silver pelt.
He loved Dori’s breasts. Their softness, their weight, the way they felt as they spilled out of his cupped hands when she pressed him down and rode him.
He’d been fascinated with them ever since he’d seen her start to develop them. Their mother had told him it wasn’t proper to stare at his sister so, but when she was out at the market, Dori had let him touch. He remembered that his hands had been shaking when she’d first lifted them to her chest and pressed budding teats into the curve of his palms. He’d taken the permission she’d granted and run with it: he’d pulled off her dress and her bindings to see and explore further, and he’d buried his face between them to breathe in her sweet scent.
He’d reached his climax that day with fur tickling his nose as he’d suckled at her left and rubbed the hard nub of her right with the pad of his thumb. Above him, Dori had panted and moaned so sweetly, and she had ground down onto his lap until his breeches were soiled and her underthings soaked.
And every night since – well, every night he hadn’t spent in gaol or banished to the sofa for his sins, or on this quest – they had taken their pleasure with each other. At the very least he had been allowed to touch her as he was now.
He circled the tip of his index finger around her nipple and felt it harden and peak just for him. He heard and felt her breath hitch, and turned his face into the pillow of her breast to hide the grin she couldn’t see.
Once, when they’d been younger and still new to their lovemaking, she’d told him that it felt like a piece of twine ran from her nipples to her clit, and that the more he played with them, the more desperately she wanted him. True to his nature, he’d taken advantage of that information as often as possible.
She tugged warningly at his hair when he pressed his hardness to her hip. Quiet. As if he would risk being loud with Ori lying so close; as if he’d risk drawing the attention of folks like Dwalin to his sister’s beauty. He nodded once and shifted so that he could mouth at her nipple through her shirt, dampening the fabric with his saliva and making it stick to the silky silver fur beneath it. He felt her breathing quicken and knew that she was biting her lip to stop herself from moaning.
He rocked his hips against her as he nipped and suckled until he lost patience and drew away. He needed the taste of her in his mouth. He pushed her shirt up so that it bunched under her arms and bared her large breasts and the curve of her belly to the air. He had little time to try and admire her in the poor light before her fingers tightened in his hair and she guided him back down to her. He went gladly. Spit-matted fur spiked around the nipple he’d been working at, and he pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses against it to flatten it before catching her nipple once more between his teeth and his tongue. He tugged at it, and her answering gasp was loud in the darkness, but he didn’t care as he thrust himself harder against her.
Dori, his Dori, was – along with Lady Dís and Hjirda, Gloin’s wife – one of the epitomes of Dwarven beauty. All their lives, he’d guarded her jealously from the admiring looks that her wide hips and full breasts won her. He’d kept her for his own and made her his, over and over, even though he knew he didn’t deserve her.
But when they took back Erebor that would change. He’d have a fresh start, and he’d lavish her with the treasures that she’d always deserved but never had. His share of the treasure would go on a home for them both, and for Ori; on the dresses she hadn’t been able to wear since the dragon came, styled with low-cut bodices so that he could see the curves of her breasts rise and fall with every breath she took; on ropes of silver and pearls to drape around her neck and compliment her fur with their lustre.
His breath turned ragged and he panted against her, biting impotently at the pebbled nub as his hand squeezed and pinched at its twin. It wasn’t long before he stiffened, thrust one more time and spent himself in the confines of his underthings, stifling his moans in the soft curve of Dori’s breast.
His sister was squirming against him now, and he released her breast to slide his hand down her belly, under the blankets to between her legs. She’d been touching herself as he rutted against her, and her fingers were wet with her slick when he tangled them with his own. She tugged her hand away and pressed it to her mouth to keep herself quiet, smearing her juices into her beard.
Nori worked his hand in earnest, thrusting two of his fingers into her with ease and rubbing circles over her clit with his thumb. He fingered her roughly, just the way he knew she liked, and suckled still at her breast. The rustling of the straw beneath them and the slick sounds of his fingers moving inside of her filled his ears, and under his lips he could feel her heart hammering.
When she came it was with practised silence, and he could feel her watching him when he lifted his hand to his mouth and licked his fingers clean. He kissed her juices from her mouth and her beard as well, and breathed his love for her into the space between them.
Then he tugged her shirt back down and rested his head on her breast once more. It was a pillow he hated to sleep without and she knew it. As his eyes drifted closed, her fingers resumed their gentle petting of his hair.
Author: Evandar
Fandom: The Hobbit
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Romance, Smut, Genderswitch
Pairing: Nori/female!Dori
Warnings: Smut, genderswitch, incest
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit and I am making no profit from this story.
Summary: Nori is fascinated with his sister's breasts.
AN: Written for this prompt on
hobbit_kink.He cuddled in close in the dark, making the most of the relative privacy of their corner in Beorn’s great hall. Ori slept soundly on a mattress nearby, but Dori lay awake in his arms.
They’d bathed, done their laundry, undone and rebraided thir hair and beards during this welcome break from travelling. Now they lay side by side, his head on the soft swell of his sister’s breast and her heartbeat in his ear. Her fingers carded through his hair, disrupting it enough that he knew he’d have to redo it in the morning. He didn’t care; it was as nice to feel her scratching over his scalp as it was to be able to slide his hand underneath her cambric shirt and stroke her breasts through their silver pelt.
He loved Dori’s breasts. Their softness, their weight, the way they felt as they spilled out of his cupped hands when she pressed him down and rode him.
He’d been fascinated with them ever since he’d seen her start to develop them. Their mother had told him it wasn’t proper to stare at his sister so, but when she was out at the market, Dori had let him touch. He remembered that his hands had been shaking when she’d first lifted them to her chest and pressed budding teats into the curve of his palms. He’d taken the permission she’d granted and run with it: he’d pulled off her dress and her bindings to see and explore further, and he’d buried his face between them to breathe in her sweet scent.
He’d reached his climax that day with fur tickling his nose as he’d suckled at her left and rubbed the hard nub of her right with the pad of his thumb. Above him, Dori had panted and moaned so sweetly, and she had ground down onto his lap until his breeches were soiled and her underthings soaked.
And every night since – well, every night he hadn’t spent in gaol or banished to the sofa for his sins, or on this quest – they had taken their pleasure with each other. At the very least he had been allowed to touch her as he was now.
He circled the tip of his index finger around her nipple and felt it harden and peak just for him. He heard and felt her breath hitch, and turned his face into the pillow of her breast to hide the grin she couldn’t see.
Once, when they’d been younger and still new to their lovemaking, she’d told him that it felt like a piece of twine ran from her nipples to her clit, and that the more he played with them, the more desperately she wanted him. True to his nature, he’d taken advantage of that information as often as possible.
She tugged warningly at his hair when he pressed his hardness to her hip. Quiet. As if he would risk being loud with Ori lying so close; as if he’d risk drawing the attention of folks like Dwalin to his sister’s beauty. He nodded once and shifted so that he could mouth at her nipple through her shirt, dampening the fabric with his saliva and making it stick to the silky silver fur beneath it. He felt her breathing quicken and knew that she was biting her lip to stop herself from moaning.
He rocked his hips against her as he nipped and suckled until he lost patience and drew away. He needed the taste of her in his mouth. He pushed her shirt up so that it bunched under her arms and bared her large breasts and the curve of her belly to the air. He had little time to try and admire her in the poor light before her fingers tightened in his hair and she guided him back down to her. He went gladly. Spit-matted fur spiked around the nipple he’d been working at, and he pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses against it to flatten it before catching her nipple once more between his teeth and his tongue. He tugged at it, and her answering gasp was loud in the darkness, but he didn’t care as he thrust himself harder against her.
Dori, his Dori, was – along with Lady Dís and Hjirda, Gloin’s wife – one of the epitomes of Dwarven beauty. All their lives, he’d guarded her jealously from the admiring looks that her wide hips and full breasts won her. He’d kept her for his own and made her his, over and over, even though he knew he didn’t deserve her.
But when they took back Erebor that would change. He’d have a fresh start, and he’d lavish her with the treasures that she’d always deserved but never had. His share of the treasure would go on a home for them both, and for Ori; on the dresses she hadn’t been able to wear since the dragon came, styled with low-cut bodices so that he could see the curves of her breasts rise and fall with every breath she took; on ropes of silver and pearls to drape around her neck and compliment her fur with their lustre.
His breath turned ragged and he panted against her, biting impotently at the pebbled nub as his hand squeezed and pinched at its twin. It wasn’t long before he stiffened, thrust one more time and spent himself in the confines of his underthings, stifling his moans in the soft curve of Dori’s breast.
His sister was squirming against him now, and he released her breast to slide his hand down her belly, under the blankets to between her legs. She’d been touching herself as he rutted against her, and her fingers were wet with her slick when he tangled them with his own. She tugged her hand away and pressed it to her mouth to keep herself quiet, smearing her juices into her beard.
Nori worked his hand in earnest, thrusting two of his fingers into her with ease and rubbing circles over her clit with his thumb. He fingered her roughly, just the way he knew she liked, and suckled still at her breast. The rustling of the straw beneath them and the slick sounds of his fingers moving inside of her filled his ears, and under his lips he could feel her heart hammering.
When she came it was with practised silence, and he could feel her watching him when he lifted his hand to his mouth and licked his fingers clean. He kissed her juices from her mouth and her beard as well, and breathed his love for her into the space between them.
Then he tugged her shirt back down and rested his head on her breast once more. It was a pillow he hated to sleep without and she knew it. As his eyes drifted closed, her fingers resumed their gentle petting of his hair.
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