[He knows his husband is a greedy, covetous creature. He is a dwarf, after all. And he knows that his husband covets him, takes great pleasure in knowing he is the only one to see Thranduil's scars, one of the very few who even knows he still bears them. He understands why the promise of such an act is so thrilling for Thorin.
It does not necessarily make it easier to indulge in it, though.]
I would have thought you would be more imaginative by now. [Yes, perhaps goading his husband is not the wisest course of action, but Thranduil does want to please him, and there is a part of him that is afraid if he is not distracted quickly enough, he will not be able to fulfill the promise he made and will pull away.
Even just imagining the disappointment on Thorin's face when he withdraws burns.]
[ He grumbles at Thranduil's criticism. Was this really a time for imagination? But if he wanted speed, Thorin could easily grant it. His hand moves again to guide his husband to the bed. Lips and teeth continue down the scarred side of his body. He pauses only to allow the rest of his impossibly long legs to follow. ]
Then I may question ... indulging you.
[ He did not plan on using his tongue where Thranduil desired it most, but if it would distract him... He'd gladly do it. He'd do such any given night and it had been so terribly long since he indulged his husband last. The threat of not performing it is a question in disguise. And if not that, then what did you want. What could he do to make this easier. ]
[He goes easily enough when pushed, settling on the bed and shifting his feet so that his robe is not tangled between his legs.]
It is hardly a sound strategy if you tell me about it first, you know.
[He has not hinted at all about rolling over and letting Thorin lick him open until he is trembling and begging into the sheets. Perhaps it would make things easier for him. Maybe that should be their next move.
He wishes so much he could be honest with his husband, to clutch at his hand or press his face to that broad chest, to spill his fears and his insecurities, but his pride prevents him. Every time he resolves to try, his throat closes up and he finds himself at a loss for words, eventually resorting to some sort of taunt or tease to distract them both. It is a failing of his that he hates, but he does not know how to overcome it. Hopefully Thorin understands.]
Besides, you know as well as I that that indulges you as much as it does me. [Thranduil isn't supid. He knows how much Thorin enjoys himself when he does use his lips and his tongue to reduce the Elvenking to a quivering mess on their bed. Perhaps they shouldn't rule it out for this evening.]
[ Thorin offers a gentle smile. It's a sight more common now that he finds himself happily married, but still a sight to take note of. This particular one has the addition of brows raised. Thorin is not fooled by your words, Thranduil. He knows him too well now.
The dwarf pushes back the robe from Thranduil's legs and takes in the sight of them. Perfect, as the rest of him is. His touch accompanies his travelling sight to inner thigh. ]
This is not battle.
[ And the smile only grows when Thranduil speaks such truths. The thought of the elf as he truly was gasping and begging for him sent a rush through him and Thorin pulled him closer by the hips in answer. His eyes back to the sliver of abdomen exposed. ]
[As reluctant as Thranduil might otherwise seem, he makes no move to halt Thorin from undressing him, nor from touching him as he does so, his hand sliding up Thranduil's thigh prompting him to let them part slightly. That gentle smile of his husband's gets a withering look in response, but if one knows where to look, one could see an answering smile hiding in the corners of his mouth.
He scoffs and rolls his eyes pointedly, the milky left eye rolling out of sync with his right.] What is that saying Men are so fond of? All's fair in love and war?
[It is not battle, no, no matter how much their personalities clash, or how much they feel the need to gain the upper hand on each other.
Perhaps one day this will be normal for them, as normal as sharing their morning meal has become already. Perhaps one day Thranduil will cease feeling the need to hide his scars completely. Hopefully Thorin will still be alive to see such a miraculous thing.]
[ Thorin pauses in all motions to give his husband a pointed look. Thranduil? Of all creatures? Accusing another of vanity? However true it might be, Thorin knew he had competition when it came to vanity. And his husband often won.
No other comment was needed and he had a job to do. Thorin's hands continued to push up from hip to abdomen. The robe needed to move out of the way so he might get a better view. The rush of lust and greed at the slow sight of his skin exposed... Thorin had before gotten aroused, fully hard just from the sight of Thranduil. Now he could feel himself doing so again, rutting slowly against his hip. ]
Nor your beauty...
[ It was rare he complimented so openly, but he was not one to hide his words when they did not need to be hidden. His eyes glance to Thranduil for a reaction before leaning down to press a kiss to his chest. ]
[Yes, he is fully aware of his hypocrisy in calling Thorin vain when he himself is famous for it. It's part of the reason the words passed his lips; he is not so self-centered as to be unable to poke fun at himself, and if he manages to do so by needling his husband, then all the better, really.
There is still a tight knot of tension and fear nestled beneath his sternum, but surprisingly, Thranduil finds himself amenable to the way Thorin slides his clothing further off of him, the way his husband slides himself in close in the robe's absence, the touch of his hand familiar and possessive as it skims across his body.
He allows himself a small smile and the barest slip of a sigh as Thorin compliments him, long, dark lashes dipping slightly as his eyes flutter for a moment as that dark head bends to press a kiss to his chest. He lifts one hand to stroke his pale fingers through the mass of Thorin's hair, fiddling with the beads that mark him as king for a moment before carding through the rest.]
I know. [That small smile quirks a little higher, teasing.]
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[He knows his husband is a greedy, covetous creature. He is a dwarf, after all. And he knows that his husband covets him, takes great pleasure in knowing he is the only one to see Thranduil's scars, one of the very few who even knows he still bears them. He understands why the promise of such an act is so thrilling for Thorin.
It does not necessarily make it easier to indulge in it, though.]
I would have thought you would be more imaginative by now. [Yes, perhaps goading his husband is not the wisest course of action, but Thranduil does want to please him, and there is a part of him that is afraid if he is not distracted quickly enough, he will not be able to fulfill the promise he made and will pull away.
Even just imagining the disappointment on Thorin's face when he withdraws burns.]
no subject
Then I may question ... indulging you.
[ He did not plan on using his tongue where Thranduil desired it most, but if it would distract him... He'd gladly do it. He'd do such any given night and it had been so terribly long since he indulged his husband last. The threat of not performing it is a question in disguise. And if not that, then what did you want. What could he do to make this easier. ]
no subject
It is hardly a sound strategy if you tell me about it first, you know.
[He has not hinted at all about rolling over and letting Thorin lick him open until he is trembling and begging into the sheets. Perhaps it would make things easier for him. Maybe that should be their next move.
He wishes so much he could be honest with his husband, to clutch at his hand or press his face to that broad chest, to spill his fears and his insecurities, but his pride prevents him. Every time he resolves to try, his throat closes up and he finds himself at a loss for words, eventually resorting to some sort of taunt or tease to distract them both. It is a failing of his that he hates, but he does not know how to overcome it. Hopefully Thorin understands.]
Besides, you know as well as I that that indulges you as much as it does me. [Thranduil isn't supid. He knows how much Thorin enjoys himself when he does use his lips and his tongue to reduce the Elvenking to a quivering mess on their bed. Perhaps they shouldn't rule it out for this evening.]
no subject
The dwarf pushes back the robe from Thranduil's legs and takes in the sight of them. Perfect, as the rest of him is. His touch accompanies his travelling sight to inner thigh. ]
This is not battle.
[ And the smile only grows when Thranduil speaks such truths. The thought of the elf as he truly was gasping and begging for him sent a rush through him and Thorin pulled him closer by the hips in answer. His eyes back to the sliver of abdomen exposed. ]
You crying out my name will have that effect.
no subject
He scoffs and rolls his eyes pointedly, the milky left eye rolling out of sync with his right.] What is that saying Men are so fond of? All's fair in love and war?
[It is not battle, no, no matter how much their personalities clash, or how much they feel the need to gain the upper hand on each other.
Perhaps one day this will be normal for them, as normal as sharing their morning meal has become already. Perhaps one day Thranduil will cease feeling the need to hide his scars completely. Hopefully Thorin will still be alive to see such a miraculous thing.]
Your vanity knows no bounds, my love.
no subject
No other comment was needed and he had a job to do. Thorin's hands continued to push up from hip to abdomen. The robe needed to move out of the way so he might get a better view. The rush of lust and greed at the slow sight of his skin exposed... Thorin had before gotten aroused, fully hard just from the sight of Thranduil. Now he could feel himself doing so again, rutting slowly against his hip. ]
Nor your beauty...
[ It was rare he complimented so openly, but he was not one to hide his words when they did not need to be hidden. His eyes glance to Thranduil for a reaction before leaning down to press a kiss to his chest. ]
no subject
There is still a tight knot of tension and fear nestled beneath his sternum, but surprisingly, Thranduil finds himself amenable to the way Thorin slides his clothing further off of him, the way his husband slides himself in close in the robe's absence, the touch of his hand familiar and possessive as it skims across his body.
He allows himself a small smile and the barest slip of a sigh as Thorin compliments him, long, dark lashes dipping slightly as his eyes flutter for a moment as that dark head bends to press a kiss to his chest. He lifts one hand to stroke his pale fingers through the mass of Thorin's hair, fiddling with the beads that mark him as king for a moment before carding through the rest.]
I know. [That small smile quirks a little higher, teasing.]