In Time

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"You said last eve you wished to leave at first light. Is everything all right in there?"

"Everything is fine," Thorin gritted as Amara's fingernails grazed up along his back and she came up off the bed to flick the tip of her tongue against his left nipple. She laughed softly as she sank back into the pillow and he shifted his weight to one arm to curve his free hand over her mouth and whispered, "You will pay for that."

"You don't frighten me, dwarf," came her muffled reply.

"Thorin?"

"It's fine!"

Bofur was silent a moment, then he said, "Are you certain?"

Thorin groaned as she peeled his hand from her mouth, and came up at him again, this time sweeping her lips along the side of his neck. "Bofur?" he managed, his eyes closing at the sensations running rampant through him now.

"Aye?"

"Go away."

"But you said—"

With a low sigh, Thorin rolled off Amara and collapsed face first into his own pillow, muttering, "I hate him."

"Bofur," Amara called over his head, "now is really not a good time."

"Not a good—oh... oh, I beg your pardon..." Bofur stammered. "Then, I'll just... I'll... I'm..."

Thorin rose from the bed and tugged on his trousers, then stormed to the door to yank it open. "It really was not a good time, my friend."

Bofur's face went bright red. "I beg your pardon, Thorin. I never stopped to think... that is... I am sorry."

"We will meet you out by the horses in a bit. Just wait for us."

"Of course. And will Kili be staying?"

"No. He will continue on with us to Erebor." Thorin resisted the urge to slam the door in his face. "Now, if you'd not mind..."

"Oh, right." Bofur nodded. "I'll just let the two of you be."

"Thank you." Now Thorin closed the door, and turned back to find Amara sitting up and re-lacing her chemise. "Oh, no... don't do that, amrâlimê..."

"The moment is lost, I'm afraid."

He almost melted at the smile she offered over one shoulder, and with a muffled groan, flung himself face down across the bed. "I am going to throttle him when we meet up to leave."

She pressed a kiss into the back of his head. "You won't, either. There will be time enough for this once we reach Erebor."

"Erebor is still quite a ways off." The quilts muffled his voice. "And I do not want to wait any longer than we must."

She offered up a teasing smile. "You will live, Mr. Oakenshield."

"I am not so certain of that." He lifted his head, frowning as she tugged on leggings. "Kakhaf."

"What?"

"Nothing." He rolled onto his back and sat up, his feet flat on the floor. "It would have been a nice way to begin the day."

"It would have, yes." She drew her tunic over her head and skirted the bed to sink onto his left thigh. "But there will be other mornings."

He slid an arm about her waist. "I know, but still..."

She draped her arm about his neck. "So, does this mean we are no longer fighting?"

"I think so."