Frerin is incredibly responsive beneath his brother and always has been. Throwing his head back, hands sliding into Thorin's hair when he can no longer reach his manhood, the younger dwarf whimpers at the ministrations. He arches slightly beneath him, tugging slightly at his brother's hair unintentionally.

It's Thorin's hand on him that really gets a reaction. Frerin's hips buck upwards, his breath hitching and a low groan of sheer pleasure slips from his lips.

"Thorin..."