A/N: Kind of in conjunction with this prompt, but not really. It was however inspired by it :)
Disclaimer: Tolkien owns everything
Prompt:
Thranduil has a reputation for seducing people. Thorin knows this because he and Thranduil used to be together. He also knows that Fili and Kili are prime targets and doesn't want them to have their hearts broken. So, when the dwarves are imprisoned in Mirkwood, Thorin all but begs Thranduil to leave his nephews alone. A startled Thranduil replies that, as attractive as FIli and Kili are, he'd rather reconnect with Thorin.
He was doing it again. Watching his nephews from under half-hooded lids, his cobalt eyes assessing their youthful forms like a predator might levy its prey. He held his head up on one dainty wrist; chin propped on the back of a pale hand. His other arm lay resting on the opposite armrest; long fingers drumming rhythmically on the wood.
Thorin, like so many of his people, was told the tales of the Elvenking's many paramours. Young maidens and youth from Laketown, fellow elves and even a few of the more fortunate looking dwarfs had been privy to these attentions. One thing was certain, the king's appetites were unmatched. Thorin heard Balin mock the elf in one final bid of frustrated diplomacy, and watched the elf's eyes narrow in contempt.
"It is a crime to wander in my realm without leave," hissed Thranduil. "I have the right to know what brings you here, and if you will not tell me now, I will keep you all in prison until you have learned sense and manners!" he spat, top lip twitching in restrain from turning into a full-blown snarl. He gestured to the guards and they were frog marched from the throne room.
That night Thranduil came down to the dungeons. Thorin watched him head off towards his nephews cells and strained to decipher the sounds of murmured voices and soft scuffling. Long minutes passed, in which silence reigned until a yell broke through the stillness and echoed in the room.
"Don't touch me!" It was Kili and Thorin's breath caught in his throat. There were sounds of a struggle followed shortly by the noise of a metal door resonating with a foreboding clang. Thorin swore and shook the metal bars in violent rage. Not his nephew! Has the elf no shame?!
A moment later a slightly disheveled Thranduil appeared in the cell juncture, fixing his robes with absentminded strokes.
"Monster," roared the dwarf.
Thranduil startled and looked up to meet Thorin's vehement glare. Carefully he approached the dwarf.
"How so, if I may ask?"
"You defiled my nephew, you beastly fiend!" screamed the dwarf.
Thranduil stared blankly at the enraged king, like he thought the other might be a few shrubs short of a garden.
"I'm sorry, I don't understand what gave you that impression," he said slowly. Thorin snarled.
"I heard my nephew screaming…"
"Oh that," interrupted the elf with a laugh. "I was simply questioning him about the purpose of your journey. When he refused to answer, I threatened to place his brother at the opposite end of the dungeons. He rushed at me and smacked his head on the bars, so I had to enter his cell and help him up," Thranduil paused to roll his eyes. "Of course being an ungrateful brat, he refused my help and screamed in my face. So I left," he looked almost embarrassed going through with his confession, "admittedly locking the door behind me with a tad more force then was necessary."
Thorin frowned and released his hold on the bars. He tried not to flinch when the Elvenking reached in and brushed a stray lock of hair from his cheek. Thranduil smiled.
"Contrary to what people say, I have only ever had a handful of lovers in all my life; and I assure you all of them were more then willing to lay with me."
A strange tension rolled in the dwarf's stomach at the thought of someone bedding the elf.
"And," continued Thranduil, "what ever made you think, should I take my pick of the dwarfs, that I would choose one of your nephews?"
Thranduil once more cupped his captive's cheek, tracing one silken finger against the stubble. Thorin tried not to drown in the azure depths and subconsciously leaned into the touch.
"No my king," whispered Thranduil, a hair-width from Thorin's parted lips, "my choice would lie elsewhere."
R&R