[Truthfully, Thranduil does not often indulge in baths such as these either, and when he does, he certainly doesn't let his glamour slide. But today he is with Thorin, and Thorin's dislike of his cloaking magics is well-known to him, and he has made a conscious effort to let them drop when he spends time alone with the dwarf.
Valar give him strength, he still does not understand why the dwarf seems to like to see him scarred and disfigured, but every time he lets his glamour drop, he sees Thorin's eyes soften, and the heavy dwarfish hands that touch him are gentle and, dare he say it, reverent. It is a strange feeling for him, a man who has lived centuries without being touched at all, let alone touched with any kind of gentleness or tenderness, but it is becoming more and more normal, easier with each touch to lean into the next one instead of shying away.
Today he sits in one of the hot spring baths, carved to provide comfortable seating, leaning back with a towel folded behind his neck, the ends of his hair swirling in the water that shifts gently about his shoulders as he waits for Thorin to join him. As soon as the last of his attendants left, he had allowed his glamour to fade away, leaving him with only one good eyes with which to see the way Thorin leers at him.
He may be blind in one eye, but he can still roll them both, which he does. As obviously as possible.]
[ Why would he not enjoy seeing Thranduil with it down? It was him as he was. The trust needed to drop a spell like that when the Elvenprince had hardly (if ever?) seen him that way made his heart warm. Besides, it mattered little. Thranduil was still impossibly handsome either way. And his.
Thorin gives a short chuckle at the order.
The pool is deeper than he had thought. He is to his waist just by standing on seats rather than bottom. An attempt to sit proves to be too deep to be comfortable. He'd feel like he was on the verge of drowning.
On his knees it is. Not that he'll be sitting still for long.
Thorin is barely still before reaching to touch the scarred cheek of his lover. ]
Satisfied?
[ He's in and he can't sit. Very lucky that his body is slave to his heart - which belongs to Thranduil.
Thorin had not paused to undo his braids. This thought makes him look for ones on his king. ]
[It is hard to forget the vast difference in height between the two of them, but somehow, Thranduil manages to forget it fairly often regardless. It comes crashing back to him when he sees how deep Thorin sinks into the pool even without sitting, and before he knows what he's doing, he's looking about for something to prop up his lover, to keep him from drowning.
The hand to his cheek distracts him, however, and he shivers despite the warmth of the water permeating his bones.]
Yes.
[His eyes flutter closed for a moment and he finds himself reaching for the dwarf, sliding his fingers along those powerful forearms, disturbing the dark hair that dusts almost his entire body.]
[ Thorin was well used to compensating for his height. It was a habit that had to be adjusted further while staying in the elven kingdom - they could be taller than Men. He had better things to worry about.
Calloused hands continue gently down jaw and neck, all along his scars. Some part of him knew he was paying attention to them on purpose to perhaps make Thranduil more comfortable with them. He did like seeing them in a way. If asked, he wasn't entirely sure if he'd deny it.
Thorin makes this easier for both of them and straddles the elf's lap. The water still comes up high even with placing his knees on either side of Thranduil's legs. He wanted to be able to touch both sides of him and does so by pressing his palms to Thranduil's chest. ]
[Thranduil is almost afraid to ask so bluntly, to be honest, for he doesn't know which answer he would like Thorin to give: that he likes seeing his scars, or that he doesn't care about them at all. He has spent so many centuries striving to forget about his wounds, trying to ignore the persistent aching he feels even with the glamour up in full force, he isn't sure if it is better to know that they are inconsequential or that they are one of the things Thorin likes about him.
He strives to forget his worries when the solid weight of his lover settles in his lap, the hands he had raised to hold on to Thorin's arms dropping to instead slide about his body, his arms loosely looped around the dwarf's waist as he allows him to continue to touch.
They are almost of a height, like this, and so it is easy enough for him to meet Thorin's gaze, his one good eye carefully cataloging the expression on his face before he leans in just a little and presses a very soft, very careful kiss to his lips.]
[ Whether he does or not, they are a part of Thranduil. They are a part that will get equal attention as the rest of him.
As their eyes meet and Thorin's hands rest on Thranduil's shoulders, he gives a very small grin. One opinion he could definitely be sure of was the milky eye. He knew most to find such eyes to be unnerving. Thorin had never felt that way when Thranduil's looked to him. For all he knew, the magic of the elves allowed him to see with it still.
Many kisses had been shared between them. Each as thrilling as the last. This one, however, felt much more loving than usual. He'd take it gratefully. It's returned as softly as it was given. One of his hands pushing up the unharmed side of his neck. Thorin brings their hips closer. ]
[If it didn't mean showing all his scars to the horrified stares of the general public, Thranduil might, at times, consider letting his milky eye show, simply to unnerve those who looked upon him. It's true, when he has his glamour up, the magic compensates a little for his blind eye, but when he lets it fall away, he can only use the right. He finds, strangely enough, that the right is all he needs, most of the time. Especially when Thorin is so close.
His lover's warm, square hand settling on his neck has him letting out the ghost of a sigh into their kiss, his knees spreading a little beneath the water to allow Thorin to settle more comfortably in his lap, their hips aligning perfectly.
He's not hard yet, but he knows from past experience that it won't take long, not with the solid weight of the dwarf pinning him to the rocks below, not with those hands stroking over his body the way they are.]
[ With Thranduil's shifting body, Thorin finds himself much more comfortable. Not quite as high, yet well able to reach any part of Thranduil he could want. He, too, may not yet be hard. It will take only a matter of time.
If he can help it, a long one. As much as he desires to surprise Thranduil with an offering tonight, he wishes to enjoy the few moments alone they do have. Free time as a king, for either realm, is a rare commodity.
His fingers are careful to avoid his ear as they push up and then come down to Thranduil's jaw. He was softer than anything else Thorin had ever dreamed of touching. There was also a rigidness to him... Something that gave away his many years on Middle Earth. ]
[It has been at least a week since they last had any real time alone together, time that was not the middle of the night when the dwarf slept like a log in their bed, time without attendants demanding their attention. Thranduil does not mind taking what time they have to indulge in some slow, tender touching.
As Thorin kisses him, the heavy beads weighing down his braids slide forward and plunk into the water, the currents eddying around them bringing them into contact with Thranduil's shoulder. He lazily blinks open his eyes to look down at them, his hands lifting to pluck the braid from the bath and start to undo the clasp holding it together.]
I just want you, [he whispers as he carefully sets the bead aside and starts to unravel the dark hair that has been so tightly plaited together.
Right now, he just wants to spend time with Thorin. Not the King Under the Mountain, not the warrior of great renown, just the dwarf that is his husband. And Thorin, without any trappings, has no braids in his hair except the idle, formless ones Thranduil puts there himself.]
[ All this time together and it still shocks Thorin somewhat to see Thranduil undoing his braids. He supposes this must be what his elvenking feels like when his fingers travel too far along his neck and graze his ear. That is a sight he does love to see but not at the moment.
This had been about appreciating Thranduil. Thorin would not deny him this. As odd as it was to see him do such, he appreciated the tenderness and intimacy of the act. ]
My beads and clasp were still too much dressing?
[ The meaning of undoing the braids had been lost on him.
Thorin's hands continue below Thranduil's chest so not to get in the way. He can't and won't stop touching him. They could be interrupted and he wouldn't. ]
[Thorin's hair is braided so tightly, and for so long, that the hair that escapes is tightly-kinked even when wet, but it slowly it loosens under the warm water that laps around their shoulders, and it brings a sort of quiet, warm satisfaction to Thranduil's breast to see it.]
There, that's better. [Pleased, he leans in and presses a deliberate kiss to Thorin's temple, right at the base of the braid he had just demolished, then moves to the other side and kisses that temple too.
The warmth of the bath and the gentle, undemanding touches of his lover are making him feel lethargic and almost sleepy, and he is almost tempted to close his eyes and drift off. Thorin would not allow it, of course, but it is still tempting nonetheless. Instead, he strokes wet fingers through Thorin's hair and smiles at him, waiting to see what he will do next, if anything.]
[ He had not realized how much more comfortable such an action would make him. The braids were something he'd lived with his entire life, if a different sort. Thorin relaxed further in the water and only straightened when Thranduil needed to reach the end of the other braid.
He also had not been expecting such a sweet gesture once he was now properly undressed. With a naturally crooked smile such as that and tender touch to his hair? Thorin couldn't not do something. Everything told him to kiss Thranduil, so he did. As careful as any other action they had that night. Lingering too long and remaining chaste. He kisses the corner of his mouth, bottom of his jaw, across chin to the other side. The warm water ebbs and flows with each action to touch them with even more caresses. Thorin will definitely demand more of nights like these in the future. ]
[This sort of tenderness is most unlike the façade the two of them both present to the world, but Thranduil would be lying if he said he did not enjoy it. There are times he feels as if he is the one hewn from stone; unyielding, hard, cold, and as unchanging as the mountain itself. But in quiet moments like these, with Thorin's warmth pressed to his chest, the scrape of his beard and the soft press of his lips meandering across his skin, he feels alive.
He murmurs Thorin's name quietly on a slip of a breath, barely any sound escaping his lips, and he lets his eyes slide slowly closed, his hands drifting out of Thorin's hair to curl instead around his broad shoulders.
The hot spring is moving gently about them, but it is fed from below, so there isn't even the sound of a bubbling brook to disturb their peace. Just the quiet lap of the water they displace hitting their bodies, the soft puff of their breath, the occasional murmur of voices. Coupled with the dark canopy overhead and the sparse light thrown by the occasional lantern, it is dark and quiet and safe down here, something almost subterranean about it all. And yet Thranduil does not feel claustrophobic at all. Not with Thorin, a creature made for such underground spaces.]
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no subject
Valar give him strength, he still does not understand why the dwarf seems to like to see him scarred and disfigured, but every time he lets his glamour drop, he sees Thorin's eyes soften, and the heavy dwarfish hands that touch him are gentle and, dare he say it, reverent. It is a strange feeling for him, a man who has lived centuries without being touched at all, let alone touched with any kind of gentleness or tenderness, but it is becoming more and more normal, easier with each touch to lean into the next one instead of shying away.
Today he sits in one of the hot spring baths, carved to provide comfortable seating, leaning back with a towel folded behind his neck, the ends of his hair swirling in the water that shifts gently about his shoulders as he waits for Thorin to join him. As soon as the last of his attendants left, he had allowed his glamour to fade away, leaving him with only one good eyes with which to see the way Thorin leers at him.
He may be blind in one eye, but he can still roll them both, which he does. As obviously as possible.]
Just get in, Thorin.
no subject
Thorin gives a short chuckle at the order.
The pool is deeper than he had thought. He is to his waist just by standing on seats rather than bottom. An attempt to sit proves to be too deep to be comfortable. He'd feel like he was on the verge of drowning.
On his knees it is. Not that he'll be sitting still for long.
Thorin is barely still before reaching to touch the scarred cheek of his lover. ]
Satisfied?
[ He's in and he can't sit. Very lucky that his body is slave to his heart - which belongs to Thranduil.
Thorin had not paused to undo his braids. This thought makes him look for ones on his king. ]
no subject
The hand to his cheek distracts him, however, and he shivers despite the warmth of the water permeating his bones.]
Yes.
[His eyes flutter closed for a moment and he finds himself reaching for the dwarf, sliding his fingers along those powerful forearms, disturbing the dark hair that dusts almost his entire body.]
no subject
Calloused hands continue gently down jaw and neck, all along his scars. Some part of him knew he was paying attention to them on purpose to perhaps make Thranduil more comfortable with them. He did like seeing them in a way. If asked, he wasn't entirely sure if he'd deny it.
Thorin makes this easier for both of them and straddles the elf's lap. The water still comes up high even with placing his knees on either side of Thranduil's legs. He wanted to be able to touch both sides of him and does so by pressing his palms to Thranduil's chest. ]
no subject
He strives to forget his worries when the solid weight of his lover settles in his lap, the hands he had raised to hold on to Thorin's arms dropping to instead slide about his body, his arms loosely looped around the dwarf's waist as he allows him to continue to touch.
They are almost of a height, like this, and so it is easy enough for him to meet Thorin's gaze, his one good eye carefully cataloging the expression on his face before he leans in just a little and presses a very soft, very careful kiss to his lips.]
no subject
As their eyes meet and Thorin's hands rest on Thranduil's shoulders, he gives a very small grin. One opinion he could definitely be sure of was the milky eye. He knew most to find such eyes to be unnerving. Thorin had never felt that way when Thranduil's looked to him. For all he knew, the magic of the elves allowed him to see with it still.
Many kisses had been shared between them. Each as thrilling as the last. This one, however, felt much more loving than usual. He'd take it gratefully. It's returned as softly as it was given. One of his hands pushing up the unharmed side of his neck. Thorin brings their hips closer. ]
no subject
His lover's warm, square hand settling on his neck has him letting out the ghost of a sigh into their kiss, his knees spreading a little beneath the water to allow Thorin to settle more comfortably in his lap, their hips aligning perfectly.
He's not hard yet, but he knows from past experience that it won't take long, not with the solid weight of the dwarf pinning him to the rocks below, not with those hands stroking over his body the way they are.]
no subject
If he can help it, a long one. As much as he desires to surprise Thranduil with an offering tonight, he wishes to enjoy the few moments alone they do have. Free time as a king, for either realm, is a rare commodity.
His fingers are careful to avoid his ear as they push up and then come down to Thranduil's jaw. He was softer than anything else Thorin had ever dreamed of touching. There was also a rigidness to him... Something that gave away his many years on Middle Earth. ]
no subject
As Thorin kisses him, the heavy beads weighing down his braids slide forward and plunk into the water, the currents eddying around them bringing them into contact with Thranduil's shoulder. He lazily blinks open his eyes to look down at them, his hands lifting to pluck the braid from the bath and start to undo the clasp holding it together.]
I just want you, [he whispers as he carefully sets the bead aside and starts to unravel the dark hair that has been so tightly plaited together.
Right now, he just wants to spend time with Thorin. Not the King Under the Mountain, not the warrior of great renown, just the dwarf that is his husband. And Thorin, without any trappings, has no braids in his hair except the idle, formless ones Thranduil puts there himself.]
no subject
This had been about appreciating Thranduil. Thorin would not deny him this. As odd as it was to see him do such, he appreciated the tenderness and intimacy of the act. ]
My beads and clasp were still too much dressing?
[ The meaning of undoing the braids had been lost on him.
Thorin's hands continue below Thranduil's chest so not to get in the way. He can't and won't stop touching him. They could be interrupted and he wouldn't. ]
no subject
[Thorin's hair is braided so tightly, and for so long, that the hair that escapes is tightly-kinked even when wet, but it slowly it loosens under the warm water that laps around their shoulders, and it brings a sort of quiet, warm satisfaction to Thranduil's breast to see it.]
There, that's better. [Pleased, he leans in and presses a deliberate kiss to Thorin's temple, right at the base of the braid he had just demolished, then moves to the other side and kisses that temple too.
The warmth of the bath and the gentle, undemanding touches of his lover are making him feel lethargic and almost sleepy, and he is almost tempted to close his eyes and drift off. Thorin would not allow it, of course, but it is still tempting nonetheless. Instead, he strokes wet fingers through Thorin's hair and smiles at him, waiting to see what he will do next, if anything.]
no subject
He also had not been expecting such a sweet gesture once he was now properly undressed. With a naturally crooked smile such as that and tender touch to his hair? Thorin couldn't not do something. Everything told him to kiss Thranduil, so he did. As careful as any other action they had that night. Lingering too long and remaining chaste. He kisses the corner of his mouth, bottom of his jaw, across chin to the other side. The warm water ebbs and flows with each action to touch them with even more caresses. Thorin will definitely demand more of nights like these in the future. ]
no subject
He murmurs Thorin's name quietly on a slip of a breath, barely any sound escaping his lips, and he lets his eyes slide slowly closed, his hands drifting out of Thorin's hair to curl instead around his broad shoulders.
The hot spring is moving gently about them, but it is fed from below, so there isn't even the sound of a bubbling brook to disturb their peace. Just the quiet lap of the water they displace hitting their bodies, the soft puff of their breath, the occasional murmur of voices. Coupled with the dark canopy overhead and the sparse light thrown by the occasional lantern, it is dark and quiet and safe down here, something almost subterranean about it all. And yet Thranduil does not feel claustrophobic at all. Not with Thorin, a creature made for such underground spaces.]