They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.

―Philip Larkin 1971

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The Kings, the Prince and the Sex Problem

Chp I

Much Ado About Nothing

It was lucky that Thorin's apartments were down a long corridor and in a separate wing because the loud moans emanating from his chambers might have caused a few raised eyebrows. Thranduil had arrived back the previous evening after a week's absence and the two kings had spent the night making up for lost time.

The elven king let out a loud cry and Thorin bit down passionately on his shoulder. The dwarf grasped his hips and steadied himself for one last thrust, then the pair came ecstatically together.

The dwarf fell upon his lover and Thranduil grunted at his weight. Thorin might be shorter but his heavily muscled body meant he was a lot heavier. "Sorry," he gasped breathlessly and he rolled off the elf's slender form, onto the pillow. Thranduil turned in his arms and pulled Thorin tightly against him.

"That was beautiful," he whispered into Thorin's dark mass of hair. "You know me so well."

"Well enough to make it perfect?" grinned Thorin, nipping his white neck.

"Let us say nearly perfect," laughed the elven king. "If I say more, then your vanity as a lover will be unbearable."

Thorin gave an indignant snort but tucked himself comfortably into the crook of the elf's arm.

"Don't go to sleep," he murmured. "I want to talk about my heir."

.o00o.

The aforementioned heir, Young Thorin, was lying at that very moment, wide awake, in the hour before dawn. He never slept these days, at least not since his betrothal to Brangwyn a month ago. She was everything he could want in a woman and, by Mahal, he wanted her! But, but….

What was his problem?

Well, actually, he could make a good guess. And he thought back to those splinters of early memories when he had been a very young child in the Iron Hills. He didn't remember much: all he knew was that, one day there had been warmth and love and, the next day….not. The bewilderment still sat like a cold stone inside him. There were other flashes, of course, like the moment when he had run to his father and had tried to embrace him, but his father had pushed him away. Or the endless stream of faceless nurses who tended to his physical needs and little else. They never lasted long because dwarf women were few and far between and, once they came to work in Dain's palace, they were soon picked off by enthusiastic suitors.

Once, he remembered as a toddler playing in the dirt with a bunch of other children. If any of them got hurt, then their mothers would come and scoop them up and give them a cuddle. He had fallen and he had sat crying with a cut knee, but nobody had come for him. In the end, some of the older boys began to laugh at his grizzling and he had run away and hidden behind a tree, crying there on his own until the bleeding stopped.

As he grew older, he had no friends because no-one wanted to be friends with a prince in case they were thought sycophantic; and those who did become friendly were only being nice to him for their own ends but, once they had got from him whatever they were after, then they were gone.

On top of that, his only contact with his father was when he was beaten by him for some minor misdemeanour or when he came to check out how well he was training with sword and axe. He spent hours practising on his own because he had nothing better to do with his time and Dain grudgingly acknowledged his skill. This is why he had been allowed to come with the army to Erebor and he had acquitted himself well at the Battle of the Five Armies when he had even impressed Thorin.

So, after Thorin had named him his heir and he had left the Iron Hills for the Mountain, he suddenly felt as though he had been released from some dark and oppressive prison and was soaring up into the light. Thorin had been very kind to him and the other dwarves, especially those who had belonged to Thorin's old Company, had been friendly and welcoming. He had been given clothes and golden ornaments and weapons the like of which he had never possessed before. He ate extremely well every day; his suite of rooms had once belonged to the king himself and, best of all, he had been presented with a most beautiful horse.

No, actually: that wasn't the best of all. The best of all was Brangwyn. She was quite lovely, not only in face and form but in her warmth and generosity of spirit. And when, on that first day, she had linked her arm in his so naturally and had walked with him through Erebor, showing him the sights, he suddenly realised that he couldn't remember the last time that anyone had touched him with such gentle affection. And when she had kissed him lightly on the cheek in parting, he thought that she must be the very first person since his mother's death to do so.

But, it had all been so confusing and there had been so many mixed messages. He hadn't known how to deal with Brangwyn nor with his feelings for her. He had misunderstood the situation between her, Thorin and Thranduil and had treated her very badly. Thorin had struck him in the face twice and he was reminded once more of his life in the Iron Hills.

He remembered with shame that afternoon when he had practically forced himself upon her. And perhaps if Thorin hadn't arrived in time, he would have done. He didn't know. All he could really retain from that moment was how much he had wanted her, how hard he had been and how he had wanted to bury himself deep inside her and be loved.

And now, wonder of wonders, they were betrothed and, if he wanted, he could have her any time. Brangwyn was even encouraging him to come to her bed. And yet, he still hadn't taken advantage of that which was the right of all betrothed couples. "When we're ready," he had whispered in her ear in that romantic glade where they had exchanged rings. Brangwyn had obviously been quite touched by his restraint but now was getting rather restless. He would have to try soon. But, the trouble was, he kept thinking about rejection, about offering his love and then being pushed away. He was pretty confident that, when the time came, he wouldn't be able to get it up.

.o00o.

"What about your heir?" asked Thranduil sleepily.

"I don't think he can get it up," responded Thorin in his normal blunt manner.

"What?!" exclaimed the elf, immediately awake. "You're joking, of course. He's been after her since he first arrived in Erebor and didn't you have to drag him off her at one point? You said he was practically bursting out of the front of his breeches."

"Ah, yes," said Thorin. "But that was then and this is now. Then, he thought she was a whore: my whore, someone involved in a threesome. How much more exciting can things get? He was in arrogant prince mode, about to take the thing he wanted."

"And now?" asked Thranduil curiously.

"Well, now he knows she's a virgin and that he must approach her humbly and offer her his love. And how much love has that lad had in his life? Not a lot, I suspect. He really doesn't know how to go about things. Brangwyn implied to me the other day that they still hadn't shared a bed."

Thranduil laughed. "That's amazing when you think how much he wanted her only a few weeks ago."

"So, what's stopping him? He must be afraid of not living up to expectations – of not being able to perform at the critical moment," pondered the dwarf.

"That's never been our problem," whispered the elf in Thorin's ear. "I've managed to get it up this very minute."

"Again?" laughed Thorin.

The elven king rolled on top of him and kissed his ear. "Why not?" he murmured, lifting one of Thorin's legs to rest on his hip. And, as he thrust his way into his lover's body, he felt the dwarf's own erection give an answer as it hardened and throbbed and dug into his belly.

.o00o.

Brangwyn and Young Thorin were sitting quietly talking in the corner of the Great Hall that evening. He loved being with her and he always felt bathed in her warmth. It helped to heal the scars of all those years of living in the Iron Hills. They talked of this and that, but, all the time, the prince felt that they were edging closer to the thing he most feared. And, finally, she murmured gently, as if she sensed his fear: "I have made up the double bed. Don't you think it's about time for us to use it?"

His head jerked in a nod and she rose smiling and took him by the hand and led him from the hall.

"There they go," said Thorin to Thranduil, nodding in their direction. "Let's hope it all works out for the poor lad."

Well…..it didn't.

Brangwyn could not but be aware of his reluctance and she tried to make it easy for him. She stripped off most of her own clothes – looking very fetching in a flimsy shift – and helped him unbutton his shirt. Then she lay on the bed and pulled him down next to her.

She was very tender with him, gently touching his face and chest and stroking his hair. Young Thorin remembered the time of his assault on her and thought how easy it had seemed then: so erotic, so arousing. He had been ready to go. But, now he loved her and he was afraid. She felt so soft; she smelled so fragrant but his cock remained stubbornly limp.

In the end, when she began to undo his breeches and he knew she would find out the truth of things at last, he could stand it no longer and, gasping, pulled away from her and got up from the bed.

"I'm sorry, Brangwyn," he gabbled, hastily buttoning up his shirt, "but I'm really not feeling very well at the moment and I don't think I can do justice to such a special occasion."

And, before she could say anything to reassure him, he was gone from the room, leaving Brangwyn startled and frustrated upon the bed.

.o00o.

Oh, dear, help needed here, I think. In the next chapter, She Stoops to Conquer, Brangwyn asks the two kings to give her some advice which results in them taking her on a tour of the night-life of Dale and, when Young Thorin comes knocking, he is offered a magic potion. Do our two sex experts know best and are the young lovers now on the path to success?

A big thank you to all those reading my Thorinduil stories. It's always lovely to hear your comments.

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