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“Bilbo of course ought to have been on his guard;
but Smaug had rather an overwhelming personality.”
- The Hobbit, chapter XII


The dwarves (and Bilbo) stayed huddled in the tunnel to parley with Smaug. It wasn’t much protection, since he could still incinerate them if he felt like it, but it made them feel better.

“You would like my treasure, Thorin Oakenshield?” Smaug said. It wasn’t his size that made him great, though he was certainly large. It was that he seemed, with his iron claws and studded skin and burning breath, less a living thing than a force of nature, powerful as a hurricane and inevitable as gravity.

Thorin bit his tongue to keep from informing the dragon that this was his treasure, actually, that Smaug had been squatting on. “Yes.”

“Well, I am willing to make you a deal.” Smaug’s sunset scales glinted with reflected gold as he stalked around his lair. “I will trade you all this,” he said, punctuating his words with a sweep of his tail that sent riches skittering against riches, “and fly away so far you will never see or hear of me for the rest of your days, in exchange for the most valuable treasure you have in your party now.”

“The most valuable thing we have isn’t so valuable,” said Thorin. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Smaug laid his head down on his forelegs to look down the tunnel and grinned. The dwarves shrank back. “You managed to come all this way; something valuable must have helped you along the way.”

Bilbo felt for the ring in his pocket. An invisible dragon would be a formidable enemy indeed, though he wondered whether Smaug would even be able to get the little thing over his claw.

“How did you manage to escape the palace of the Elvenking, where you were all kept in separate cells?” said Smaug. “ Almost all.”

“Bilbo let us out,” said Thorin.

“And whose plan was it, to float down the river in barrels?” 


“And who slipped past Bofur on watch, after you escaped the goblins in the Misty Mountains?”


“And who cut you free, when the giant spiders of Mirkwood dawdled and debated eating you?”

“Bilbo did.”

Smaug sat back, satisfied.

“But - but - but half the time we had to carry him on our backs!” said Bombur. 

“So I will carry him,” said Smaug. “His weight is very little to me.”

“Bilbo has indeed been a great help to us,” said Thorin. “But why would you be willing to part with all this treasure for him?”

Smaug sighed, and the burst of hot breath made the dwarves flinch. “When I conquered this mountain I was a young dragon. But now I am old, and I have realized that lying alone in a bed of gold is not as fulfilling as I imagined it to be. I want a mate.”

Nobody spoke. Smaug knew about the invisibility ring, he must , but that wasn’t what he was after. He was after Bilbo. To… mate. Honestly, if Bilbo had been a dragon looking for a mate, he would have gone for Bombur, with his round belly and soft chest and thighs.

“And really, Thorin,” Smaug continued wryly. “It took your grandfather… what, centuries? To amass all this treasure, and I won it all in a day. If I am truly unsatisfied, there is other treasure in the world I could collect.”

All of the dwarves turned to look at Bilbo. “Will you consent to go with him?” said Thorin. “Be his mate?”

Bilbo froze.

“Don’t pressure him,” said Smaug sharply. “Let him take his time to make a decision. Dragons are patient creatures. And if he will not, what matter is it to you? You must have had a plan to get your treasure back in the first place.”

And Bilbo realized that the dwarves had never given him that consideration. Gandalf invited thirteen dwarves over to Bilbo’s house without his permission, and the dwarves had dragged him along on a quest he had no personal investment in without telling him how long it would take or the dangers involved. But this dragon, this beast of fire and steel-sharp claws, was allowing him to make his own decision, and didn’t even seem like he’d be angry if Bilbo said no.

“I’ll do it.”

Smaug’s lips parted in a grin. “Excellent. I will not give you cause for regret.”

Bilbo shouldered past the dwarves and into the open cavern, his feet slipping a little on the loose treasure. Smaug watched him come. And when Bilbo got close enough, the dragon reached out one massive claw and combed it, unbearably gently, through Bilbo’s curly hair. He shivered at the feeling of it against his scalp, but it wasn’t a bad sensation. “Where will we go?” Bilbo said.

“North, to find a new territory.”

“Can we stop at my house first? So I can pick up my things?”

Smaug’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment Bilbo thought he’d asked for too much. But when the dragon spoke, his voice was low and indulgent. Bilbo really needed to get better at reading dragon’s expressions. “Of course, my treasure.”

Smaug crouched low. Bilbo stared at him. 

“Well, climb on,” said the dragon.

“Oh!” Bilbo hurried forward. He almost asked how he was supposed to do it, but then he saw that he could pull himself up by the spines on Smaug’s back, and settle himself quite comfortably between two of them at the base of his neck. 

Smaug stood up and turned his proud head back to the dwarves. Was this how a dragon saw the world? Looking down on everyone? “Goodbye, Oakenshield,” said Smaug. “May your fires burn bright and your treasure forever multiply.”

“Goodbye, everyone!” said Bilbo, waving rather lamely. 

And then Smaug slithered out of the cave. The tunnel he went through was narrow only against his bulk, and Bilbo hunched down low as the noise of claws scraping on stone echoed around him. And then they were outside, and Bilbo could lift his head again and smell clean air. 

“It’s been a long time,” Smaug said softly. “I’d forgotten how bright it is.” Bright? It was a damp, gray day, the sun thickly hidden by clouds. “Which direction?”

“W-West,” said Bilbo. 

And then Smaug’s wings snapped against the air, Bilbo’s stomach lurched, and they were flying. “Far?” called the dragon against the rushing wind.

“Very far!” Bilbo yelled. Smaug flew up and up and up, higher than the summit of the Lonely Mountain, so high Bilbo thought he’d almost be able to touch the clouds. But then Smaug’s path leveled off. Bilbo looked down, saw only green. Then he began to feel rather green, and so he looked only at Smaug’s neck. There was a strange sensation at his fingers and toes, a pleasant tingling. Something a little like the time he’d reached out to touch the interlocked smoke rings Gandalf blew. Magic?

Well, there was nothing for it now. Bilbo closed his eyes and hung on tight.

It was only a few hours later that Smaug began a gentle descent. Bilbo sat up and looked around. The treetops were less threatening, somehow, than the ones he’d seen in Mirkwood Forest, but he had no idea where they were. Then he started seeing rooftops, rolling hills. No. It couldn’t be. Couldn’t possibly.

Smaug landed at a gallop, and took a hundred meters or so to come to a full stop. Then he swung around and crouched to the ground. Bilbo slid off his back and staggered across the soft grass, legs stiff. They were at the base of a hill, and there was a round green door built into the hillside. The path up to it was neglected, grass growing through the decorative pebbles. Bag-End.

“How did you find this place!?” said Bilbo, astonished. Being home already made him light-headed. It had taken maybe two hours on Smaug’s back to go a distance that took months on foot, because Smaug could just fly over the forest, over the mountains, not have to deal with goblins and wargs and giant spiders - how wonderful it must be to be a dragon!

“It smells like you,” said Smaug simply.

There were no other hobbits about. Bilbo supposed they’d seen Smaug coming and hidden. “Would you, er, would you like a cup of tea?”

He was starting to recognize Smaug’s look of amusement. “I would,” said Smaug. “But I think we should leave again soon, so my presence doesn’t alarm people too much.”

His father had caused a scandal by bringing home a Took. Now Bilbo was bringing home a dragon. 

There was tea and sugar in the cabinet, but of course no milk. Bilbo made tea for them both, giving Smaug an entire teapot’s worth, and ate cheese and cured meat and some very stale crackers. He packed all of his warmest clothes, because if they were truly going very far north he’d surely need them. And then they were off again. 

If you’d asked Bilbo that morning, he would have told you there was no way he’d be able to relax on a dragon’s back, but when Smaug finally landed again he realized he must have dozed off. Smaug had found a cave for them to stay in, warm and snug but surrounded by unforgiving mountain terrain. “I will come back with food,” Smaug said as soon as Bilbo had slid off his back. Bilbo watched him fly off, then turned back into the cave and spread out his bedroll. 

The sun had set almost completely when Smaug returned, carrying the fresh carcass of a deer in his claws. He dropped it on the floor of the cave in front of Bilbo.

“I don’t suppose you could cook this for me?” said Bilbo. “And carve it up?”

“The dwarves did say you were fussy,” said Smaug fondly. He peeled the pelt off the deer and used his razor-sharp claws to remove its head and crack open its ribcage. Bilbo had seen more gruesome things on his quest, but not many. Finally Smaug spat out a little burst of flame, bathing the deer’s red flesh and leaving it charred. 

“That looks delicious, thank you,” said Bilbo. 

Smaug snorted and lay down across the opening of the cave, blocking the cold wind with his broad back. Bilbo unpacked his little cutlery set and set to eating. The venison was beautifully seared. Smaug watched with his glittering eyes, idly licking the deer blood from his claws. When Bilbo had eaten his fill and wiped the grease from his chin, Smaug snagged the deer with a claw and swallowed the rest of the carcass whole. “Now undress,” he said when the last hoof had disappeared down his gullet. “I want to look at you.”

Bilbo didn’t know what he’d been expecting. Not this so soon, certainly. But those huge red eyes were focused on him, only on him, and all Bilbo wanted was to give it up and let the dragon use him how he pleased. 

“Can I keep my socks on?” Bilbo inquired as he unbuttoned his waistcoat. “The ground is rather cold.”

“I’ll allow it,” said Smaug, and eased closer.

When Bilbo was fully naked (except for his socks) he lay back on his bedroll and allowed his thighs to fall open. Hobbits were single-sexed, and Bilbo had a cock and balls and a little slit beneath, the paunch of his belly concealing the equipment both to impregnate and be impregnated. Not that it would be much use with a dragon. 

“What sort of a creature are you?” Smaug inquired delicately.

“What?” said Bilbo. It occurred to him then that he had no idea what sort of genitals a dragon might have. 

“You’re not a dwarf, or a human, or an elf. I've never met one like you before.”

“I’m a hobbit.”


Bilbo was expecting to be mounted, and so he reached down to touch himself, knowing opening himself up a little would make it easier, but Smaug swatted his hand away. 

“You don’t need to do anything. Just lie there and let me enjoy you.”

Bilbo took a deep breath and removed his hand. Smaug laid his huge head on the stone between Bilbo's legs, and Bilbo could feel his hot breath on his inner thighs. 

Lie back and think of the Shire , he told himself, but when Smaug’s great mouth opened and his wet tongue-tip touched the sensitive head of Bilbo’s cock, he found it was quite impossible to think of anything but the situation at hand. Smaug licked downwards, over his entrance, and Bilbo was… Bilbo was overwhelmed. After months spent cold and wet and stressed out, the future was just a big blank. There was only the now and this dragon’s tongue worming around between his legs. 

“Sensitive thing,” Smaug teased. “How long has it been since someone’s taken care of you properly?”

Bilbo shook his head. “Months.”

“Mmm, saving yourself for me.” And then Smaug’s tongue thrust inside him, flexible and wet, and Bilbo yelled. “I'll give you that, you’re more capacious than you look.” Looking down, Bilbo discovered what a dragon’s genitals looked like. Smaug’s body was so large that when he got his hips level with Bilbo’s to fuck him, Bilbo was looking at his chest, at the mosaic of precious gems pressed into the soft flesh. Large as Smaug was, his hot, hard length slid easily home. “Ah,” Smaug groaned. “It’s been too long. One of these days I’m going to fill you with my eggs and breed you properly.”

“Eggs!?” Bilbo squeaked.

“Of course. Don’t you know how dragons breed?” 


“How do hobbits breed?”

“By ejaculating inside someone.”

“And then what?”

“The baby grows inside the one who’s pregnant and their stomach gets bigger.” Bilbo snuck a hand down between them to play with himself, hoping to release some of the unbearable tension Smaug’s cock inside him was building up.

“Have you ever been pregnant?” 


“That’s a shame, I think looking all swollen up would suit you. Dragons, we just find a nice warm hole to lay our eggs in and go at it.” Smaug punctuated his words with a rough lick across Bilbo’s chest, across his pink nipples, and then Bilbo was coming, squeezing his own little cock. 

Oh,” Smaug groaned. “Yes, tighten up for me, just like that, perfect little thief…” Then Smaug was coming as well, so hot it was almost painful. Smaug pulled out, allowing fluid to gush out down Bilbo’s thighs, and then settled down to clean Bilbo with his tongue, licking up the cum Bilbo had splattered up his chest as well as his own release. 

When Bilbo’s skin was clean again the dragon curled around him completely, his head in Bilbo’s lap and his great body and tail supporting Bilbo’s limbs. “You smell like mine,” Smaug murmured, sniffing between Bilbo’s legs. “My mate.” There was a rumbling noise that it took Bilbo too long to realize was Smaug purring. 

Smaug’s wings felt like warm leather against his skin, and Bilbo was so exhausted from the evening’s excitements that he fell asleep. And maybe it was the smell of dragon in his nose, but he dreamed of Smaug. Dreamed he was back slipping through that narrow passageway and into the cavernous hoard-room, where the dragon lay, his red-gold scales shining like the coins beneath him. This dream-Smaug grinned, revealing his long, sharp teeth, and pinned Bilbo down with one claw, forcing his legs apart. Bilbo tried to squirm away, but all it accomplished was grinding himself on a talon. 

He woke up with a gasp. That’s right, he wasn’t in the mountain anymore, not on a pile of gold, but the dragon was wrapped around him, the tail draped between his legs what he was grinding on in his sleep. He looked up and was mortified to see that Smaug’s eyes were open and watching him. “You’re dripping already, little thief,” Smaug said. “Oh, I am going to have fun with you.” Bilbo whined helplessly and thrust his hips forward, and Smaug put his clever tongue to work. 


The next evening Smaug found a castle. He landed in a clearing a ways away so they could approach on foot, the trees being too low for Bilbo to sit astride him without hitting his head. “No one’s been here for many years, but I can smell gold,” Smaug explained.

“I suppose this all once used to be farmland,” said Bilbo, looking around at the forest.

“How can you tell?” 

“None of these trees are over a hundred years old, and the ground is too smooth.”

“What does the ground being smooth matter?”

“When a tree falls over in the forest, it leaves a hollow where the roots used to be. And when the roots rot and drop all their dirt it creates a hummock right next to the hollow where the roots used to be. And when the land is converted to farmland, the plow flattens all that out. So this land hasn’t been forest long enough for new hollows to form.” It was something Gandalf had explained to him, on their interminable walk.

“Oh,” said Smaug, sounding rather impressed.

They reached the castle, and Smaug bounded up the grand staircase. He was sniffing at the ground as he went, and in one of the upstairs rooms he used a claw to peel up the rotting floorboards to reveal a jewelry box, which he cracked open, spilling gold across the floor.

What Bilbo could see was that this was a child’s jewelry, tiny earrings and bracelets for narrow wrists. He looked at Smaug. The dragon swept the pieces of gold across the floor and scooped them into a little mound, grinning, apparently unbothered by the question of what had happened to the previous owner, who they’d been before this castle had been abandoned along with the land around it. 

“Do you ever think about where your treasure comes from?” said Bilbo.

Smaug looked up at him, pupils dilated. “Of course. It comes from fire, my barrel-rider.”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you know that if you get deep enough underground, the Earth is hot?” 

“How is that true?” His hobbit hole was cool.

“The Earth was all hot, once, but it’s cooling from the outside in, like a loaf of bread taken out of the oven.” This was the cosmology of dragons: the universe, a forge. The sun shines as the fire of that forge every day, and at night the stars are burning embers in dark ash. “All rock is partially metal, and it just takes fire to make it pure. Heat and pressure is all it takes to turn rock slurry into precious gems.” The universe forged the earth; the earth forges treasure. Forges all the way down. 

Bilbo was silent for a moment. “Well, I just want you to know that I’m not going to sleep on a pile of gold. I want a mattress.”

Smaug snorted out a laugh. “Of course, my spoiled little mate. You deserve a bed as soft as you are.” He stepped over the meagre pile of gold towards Bilbo, close enough to drag a playful lick up his cheek. “And I swear I will provide.”

At that moment Bilbo realized something and started to laugh. 


“I just realized I forgot my pocket handkerchief,” he said. “I left it at home when I set off with the dwarves, and I left it at home again just now. I guess I didn’t need it so much after all.”

Smaug hummed. “Possessions do not always bring you as much joy as you think they will.”

That night, lacking a mattress, Bilbo lay down on the stone floor with his folded clothes for a pillow and Smaug curled around him. The dragon’s skin was warm to the touch, but the gems embedded in his belly dug uncomfortably into Bilbo’s side. A waistcoat of diamonds, Bilbo had called it. He picked a little at one of the gems now, just to see if it would budge. 

Smaug stiffened. “What are you doing?”

“You’re not as comfortable to cuddle with if you’ve got all this stuff stuck in you. And isn’t it painful?”

Smaug shifted a little. “I suppose.”

Bilbo got his fingernail wedged under the gem and pried it out. Smaug squirmed and whimpered as his flesh was exposed, though if you’d asked him he would have denied anything so undignified. The gem left a tender hollow behind, and stroking over it with a fingertip elicited another whimper. 

Strange, that Smaug had been born soft. And what had covered it up was not time but wealth. 

Bilbo picked out another diamond, and had started on a third when he realized he could feel something bumping against his leg. He hadn’t got a chance to get a good look at Smaug’s cock the night before, and looking at it now he was a little surprised it had actually fit inside him. Barrel-rider, indeed. “You’re so… big.”

“Well, yes. I’m a dragon.”

“But even proportionally.”

A grin spread across Smaug’s face. “You’re giving me ideas, little hobbit.” Smaug nosed between Bilbo’s legs. “Do all hobbits have cute little pricks like you?”

“Y-yes.” Bilbo could already feel himself getting hard and wet at Smaug’s warm breath, the touch, the teasing in Smaug’s voice.

“No wonder you need a dragon to fuck you properly.” Just the narrow tip of Smaug’s tongue swiped up between Bilbo’s folds, eliciting a squeak, before the dragon pulled back. “What a sweet little cock you have. It loves all the attention, doesn’t it? I hardly have to look at it and it’ll swell up for me. Did you always know you were such a pervert that you’d get off on a dragon?”

Bilbo was almost too aroused to be surprised that Smaug was willing to set aside his own vanity and suggest that dragons were anything other than glorious and worthy of love and lust, but not quite. “I’ve already ruined my reputation by going off on an adventure,” he admitted. “Hobbits aren’t usually very open-minded.”

“Tell me about the last time you had sex,” said Smaug. “Before last night, I mean.”

Bilbo thought back. “His name was Euric. It was wintertime, and he’d invited me over but I tripped in the snow on the way over. When I got to his house he helped me undress and hung up all my wet clothes in front of the fire. He brought me a cup of cocoa with marshmallows and bundled me up in a blanket on the couch and -” 

Euric had dark hair that shone like mahogany in the firelight, and the glitter in his eyes had made Bilbo feel very warm indeed.

“- he asked if I’d like help keeping warm and we - under the blanket - not anything that could get either of us pregnant, just sort of grinding on each other.” He remembered the slight scratchiness of the hair on Euric’s thighs, the heat of Euric’s stiff cock and the slick of his cunt. Euric’s lips pressing warm wet kisses to his neck. 

“Mmm,” said Smaug. “Sounds frustrating, with nothing inside you.”

Yes, it had been; the dull ache of arousal before finally, finally finding release. Hobbit sex was often a leisurely affair, and it had been several hours of lazy grinding before either of them had actually gotten off. “A- a little bit, yeah.” Smaug teased just the tip of Bilbo’s cock, already red and leaking, with his tongue. “Smaug please,” Bilbo begged, losing all sense of self control as his body tensed around nothing. “Please fuck me. Breed me. I want your eggs, want you inside me, want to be your mate properly.”

Smaug purred. “Now there’s the needy hobbit I know. You like something substantial inside you, don’t you?”

“Yes, please -” He felt Smaug’s cock bump against his entrance and then sink in.

“Going to stuff you full, don’t worry,” Smaug promised as he thrust deeply inside, “going to stuff you so full everyone knows who your mate is, knows who you belong to.”

There was nothing for it but to lie there and be fucked, and after a few moments Smaug groaned, long and loud, and Bilbo felt something heavy drop into his cunt. An egg. “How many of these are there?” Bilbo gasped.

“Hm, six? Maybe seven?”

“I'll burst!” 

“Of course you won’t, dragons do what we please.” Smaug combed his claws soothingly through Bilbo’s hair while Bilbo lay there helplessly and wondered whether he was really about to die here, speared on a dragon’s cock. And, more than that, die wanting to cum this badly. 

But his body stretched somehow to accommodate. When Smaug finally pulled out, Bilbo’s stomach was swollen like he was nine months pregnant, so large he couldn’t see his own cock bobbing and hard underneath. He was so full he couldn’t even tense the muscles of his abdomen as Smaug licked over the head of his cock and wrapped his flexible tongue around the shaft. The pressure, the pleasure - Bilbo came incoherent and babbling. 

“How do you feel?” said Smaug, almost hesitantly, once he’d licked Bilbo’s cum from his lips.

“Full.” He was uncomfortable, every tiny movement making the eggs shift and press against new, tender places inside him. He tried to steady himself on Smaug’s side, but a scale shifted under his fingers. “You have a loose scale.”

“I’d be much obliged if you’d just pull it out.”

“All right.” Bilbo yanked, and it came easily, like the seed of a pinecone. The new scale underneath was much brighter than the surrounding ones. Bilbo ran his palm over Smaug’s flank. “Lots of these scales are loose, actually.”

Smaug shifted. “I haven’t had anyone around to groom me lately.”

“Oh,” said Bilbo. Seeking out and pulling loose scales was a good distraction from the discomfort of his overfull belly, and so he kept going. “Well, you have me now.” It had never occurred to him that dragons might be a social species, that Smaug might be as much of an outlier among his own kind as he seemed to others. 

“And I’m much obliged.” Smaug shifted, exposing a new patch of scales to Bilbo’s inspection. “I hadn’t even noticed how uncomfortable it was,” he said softly. “Loose scales itch, but after a while I stopped feeling it.”

All of the new scales were brighter and shinier than the old ones. Strange to think that even as glorious as Smaug was, he was a dull beast compared to what he could be. What he would be, with Bilbo taking care of him.