For the Love of Flannel
His eyes flickered back and forth underneath his eyelids. “Where am I?” he thought silently. “What’s happened?”
Disoriented, he opened to see himself in a green meadow. His joints were sore and stiff; his baseball cap lay discarded on the ground a few feet away from him. The sun shone brightly in his eyes,
making him squint.
He scratched his beard as he attempted to figure out the predicament. As it seemed, only a moment ago he had been in a cheap motel, watching the last few minutes of The Hobbit and drinking a beer.
Now, here he was, Bobby Singer, in some place completely different from where he had been before.
With a deep sigh, he picked up his hat and placed it back on his head. Without it, he felt a little less like a man, and he just couldn’t have that. “I ain’t no sparkly fairy princess,” he
murmured, recalling memories he would have best liked to have forgotten.
Sam and Dean hadn’t let the image of him and Crowley kissing go just yet. They incessantly tormented him like playground bullies. They said that maybe ole Bobby had changed his ways after years of
hunting, that maybe he was going soft.
Hah. Bobby laughed at that thought. He? Soft? No, no. He may have reached an older part of his life, but by no means was he soft… on any account.
He smiled to himself, knowing what he had done before he was here. As he meandered the meadow, he recalled the memory of himself stroking his member until every last drop had been spilled onto the
glorious face… of Bilbo Baggins. It was true, he did have gay thoughts every now and then. But who didn’t, he reasoned with himself.
Even just thinking of it made him a little horny, to be honest. He had always suppressed his feelings around the boys, even though they themselves were a little on the queer side. He knew how Dean
felt about Castiel, that strange angel guy they had found somewhere. If that weren’t enough, how could he forget the Dr. Sexy incident? Ain’t no straight man ever called another man that kind of
name if he wasn’t at least a little fruity.
As for Sam, it would make sense for him to bat for the same team. Every woman who he fucked had wound up dead, in some way or another. Hell, any woman’s vagina he had contact with, sexually or not,
had been killed. Poor idjit might as well have tried to find love somewhere.
But here….. He was alone. There was no one around, and he could feel something stirring within him. Since he came here, he could feel that kind of sexual frustration building up. He’d held it in
for too long. It was a go.
“Oh,” he sighed as he stripped off his flannel and undid his belt to his worn and faded jeans. His penis sprung free from his tighty whities like Dracula from his coffin.
As he stroked it furiously, he thought of Bilbo Baggins, sweaty and squirming beneath him. He looked mighty scared in the trailers for the Desolation of Smaug. “How’d you like to meet this dragon,
huh, Bilbo?” he grunted.
Clenching his jaw and feeling the sweat drip down his back, he released his load onto the grass beneath him. His hands ached from the strength and energy this took of him.
“What did you say, sir?”
Bobby jumped. His hands quickly shoved his flaccid dick into his jeans. He attempted to cover himself. But he could not have been more shocked to see who was standing right before him.
“Bilbo?” he said, breathily. His heart seemed so overjoyed he thought he might have a heart attack. You know. If that was possible in Middle Earth.
Suddenly, everything made a little more sense. Of course he was in the meadow. He was outside Bilbo’s home. He silently cursed himself for not recognizing the area before hand. He had fantasized
about living here so many times with Bilbo as his lover.
“I ain’t said nothing,” he said gruffly.
Bilbo’s face softened. “I’ve seen you before.”
Bobby had to fight the urge to drop his pants once more. His face was even more beautiful than he had seen in the pictures. His hair curled perfectly as a chestnut frame to his cherubic face. His
eyes looked deep and warm; there were soft wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, like he had laughed at a few too many hobbit tales in his time. And his lips, oh, his lips. Bobby wanted nothing more
than to run and kiss him. The urge was greater than it had been with Crowley, even.
“You have?” he could barely muster anything louder than a whisper.
“Bobby, Bobby Singer. I couldn’t have known you any more than I do now. You are the man who visits me in my dreams. The man who torments me with the lusting of a passion that I have never known…
Bilbo’s silky voice stirred up that stiffness in Bobby once more. He wondered if the air in Middle Earth increased libido; never before had he been so turned on so many times.
“Come with me, my love,” Bilbo said.
He took Bobby by the hand and led him into his house. Bobby seemed to know exactly every room, though neither the book nor movie had ever put so much detail in the descriptions. With a deep breath,
he squeezed Bilbo’s hand.
“Take me no further.” he said, gathering courage. “I won’t take another step until you take me right here.”
Before he knew it, Bilbo had reached his gentle hand into Bobby’s jeans. He shivered with pleasure as his fantasy slowly pumped it.
He put his own hand in the waistline of Bilbo’s loose trousers. They slowly slipped out of their clothes, staring intensely into each other’s eyes. Once they were both bare naked, Bilbo gingerly
got down on his knees and took Bobby into his mouth.
Bobby could feel his eyes roll into the back of his head. Bilbo’s tongue wrapped around the head of his cock. He let out a moan of pleasure.
“Oh, you idjit. Oh. Don’t stop.”
He had to clench the back of an ornately carved chair to keep from falling over. Bilbo milked every last drop of cum from Bobby’s balls, over and over again. He became so weak in the knees and his
voice hoarse from screaming out. The thought that other hobbits could hear them outside only turned him on more.
Bilbo caressed the base of his penis. Bobby’s heart made a fluttery feeling, synonymous to a school girl who had been told that her crush “like likes” her.
“Bobby, I ask you a very important question.”
“What?” he croaked, trying to keep from moaning again as Bilbo rubbed him just right.
“Would you please reproduce the most glorious offspring with me?”
Bobby stepped back, letting his penis fall from Bilbo’s grasp. Bilbo was clearly a man. He could see proof enough just from the semi-erect member that was dangling between his legs.
“Hobbits don’t reproduce the same way that humans do; it is the male who is impregnated. And I would love for the father of my first born child to be you…”
Bobby roughly pulled his lover up by the base of his torso. He bent him over and spread his pale ass cheeks. Rubbing his finger up and down the slit, he used his free hand to reach around and grab
the now fully hard penis. He tugged at the shaft as quickly and roughly as he could.
Bilbo gasped and moaned, struggling for breath. Pre-cum dribbled over the head of his cock and onto Bobby’s eager hands. He pulled his fingers to his lips and tasted the hobbit’s sweet nectar.
Then, leaving no time to get used to the erotic feeling in the room, he plunged himself deep within Bilbo.
It wasn’t easy to fit himself inside Bilbo’s tiny hole. He was sure that it would have been uncomfortable for the man, but he showed no signs of pain. All Bobby could hear was the loud, wet
thwacking sound of his balls slapping Bilbo’s cheeks and the majestic cries they were both making.
In no time at all, he shot his load into Bilbo’s hungry, waiting hole. They both collapsed in a sweaty heap upon the floor, grasping each other’s hair and rolling around in a make out session that
could have beaten any famous kissing scene in all of movie history.
“What do we name him?” Bilbo asked after a while.
“It’s a he?”
Bilbo nodded. “I’m thinking we should name him a combination of our two names.”
Bilbo smiled lovingly. “Babbo Idjit Baggins-Singer.”
Bobby returned the grin. “I love you, Bilbo,”
He watched as Bilbo slowly crept forward and placed his lips upon Bobby’s and then…
“Bobby, what in the hell do you think you are doing?”
“And I thought the pudding thing was bad….”
Sam and Dean stood over him like two giants. Castiel roamed the room like a confused puppy. Dean had a look of contempt; Sam looked downright disturbed.
“Well, I guess I’ll never look at Lord of the Rings the same again,” Dean said, smirking at the soiled magazine. Bobby sheepishly avoided their eyes.
“Try not to ruin Harry Potter for me,” Sam said, turning to leave. “I can relate to the Boy Who Lived.”
“I don’t understand that reference,” Castiel said huskily.
“Of course you don’t,” Dean said. “Now come on. Time to hit the road. Sammie, you got shotgun. I’m not sitting by Whacker here.”
As Bobby cleaned himself of his pooling seed that lie on his stomach, he looked forlornly at the ruined photograph of Bilbo. Oh, it just felt all too real. But how could he believe such a thing?
Dreams coming true was for idjits.
Still…. He wiped a tear from his eye as he threw away the magazine.
“Some day, my love,” he whispered. “Some day, Bilbo and Babbo. I’ll return.”
© Copyright 2016 Coralie. All rights reserved.