[ There's no question. If he didn't want this or enjoy this, he wouldn't have offered. They wouldn't be this deep into it. As uncertain as he may still feel, he was willing to try, and Anduin can't help but be glad for that fact. Admittedly it's an odd thing to feel gratitude for.
But they'd never done anything by conventional means, had they?
There's a reassuring tilt of his head, bumping against Wrathion's with a tickling sweep of soft blond hair, and as much as he can move his fingers to run against the dragon's fingers, he does. ]
[The bump of his head encourages him to lift his eyes again, staring down the hallway in quiet contemplation as he feels his body begin to warm Anduin's to a level that may, perhaps, discomfort the human. He unwinds just enough to allow his skin to breath, cheek still pressed against the other man's head.
There are things he still wants to say. Things he is still figuring out exactly how to say.
As a result, the withdrawing of his hands from the rope is slower and more deliberate.]
[ The heat has him feeling a little drowsy, as the hot springs in Pandaria once did. The loss of it is immediately felt, but he doesn't try to pursue, instead nodding in answer to the question with another slow wriggle of his fingers. ]
If you're finished.
[ Whatever dwells in Wrathion's mind will come in time, or it won't. He's accepted that by now, patient to the last, but it's an unspoken relief to see even this much from him, to feel that sense of want and affection from him to remind him that this is still very much evenly felt between them. ]
[As if to confirm, Wrathion pushes himself up on his knees and moves around him, hooking his fingers into the harness to pull Anduin upright so that he does not have to struggle for balance without the use of his arms. Leading from there to the full length mirror in the corner of the room is easy -- though spotting his image within might be a little challenging in the low light.
A snap of his fingers lights a small spark, enough to illuminate the pair of them -- Anduin in the foreground, and Wrathion himself behind. The sight encourages Wrathion to rest his head back down upon him, though his free hand remains hooked in the ropework at the king's back.
It was a simple thing -- it could get more complex. He'd seen as much. But that was some of the beauty of it. As much as he might have appeared to have planned the entire evening, there was a sense of spontaneity to it.]
If only everyone could be so fortunate as I, to be blessed with such a view.
[ Never overly fond of his own reflection -- the scars bother him, even now -- he still finds it hard to argue.
The initial curiosity had been the ropework, which is of course stunning. But the elegant crisscrossed pattern of crimson rope over his body highlights the curve of hard-earned muscle, the slender jut of his hips, the flat slope of his stomach, and perfectly frame his half-hard cock. He can see when the tension lies with Wrathion's fingers curled into the knots at his back, the faint dig of the rope into his skin.
Though often told how attractive he is by others, this might be the first time he feels it might be true. Wrathion's pleased expression hovering over his shoulder certainly helps, and once his eyes trail back up to meet the dragon's gaze in the mirror he feels his face flush. ]
This was your first?
[ It's flawlessly done, so far as he can tell of such things. ]
[His free hand sips around from the back of the harness to trace the pattern he'd made across his chest, a careful study of his own handiwork.]
It was.
[He has no problem admitting that. Perhaps it was not so surprising -- after all, it was a fairly intimate act. His first attempt at it couldn't be with just anyone.
His eyes drop lower, his smirk stretching just a bit more when he spots that Anduin is, in fact, still aroused. Wrathion's own cock remains out of view, but given that he cannot seem to keep his hands off of him...well.]
[ It's no matter if he can see or not. When Wrathion's eyes stray lower, Anduin leans slightly back into him, and it's no trouble at all to tell exactly what the Black Prince makes of his handiwork. ]
[Anduin's choice to lean back is met with a steady tightening of his grip upon the ropes beneath his fingers. He'd been focused on his task, up until now. Now there is nothing but what he's created, and their shared arousal.]
It could be better. But I suppose practice makes perfect.
[His hands drag backwards, one finger tracing down the other man's spine between the rope until it finds his tailbone. He knows very well what he wants -- but he also knows that this is not about him. More importantly, there was a high chance that he would harm Anduin if he tried anything particularly strenuous while he was still tied.
The sigh behind him is heavy, and he lowers his mouth to press another kiss to his shoulder. And then another upon his neck as he relocates to the front of him, finding a grip on the ropes again to pull him him for a deep kiss.]
[ He can't reach as he wound have, to curl a hand to the back of Wrathion's neck, to pull him in and press in for all he was worth. He thinks to, on instinct, but is quickly reminded of his limits in this position.
He doubts he could pull back out of Wrathion's grip if he wanted to.
Not that he wants to. Despite the initial realization of how compromised he was like this, Anduin still tilts his head, fearlessly seeking the warm press of Wrathion's mouth. He doesn't care, and in fact he can feel himself stirring against the ropes.
For once, it's not up to him, save for that one word. The decision is out of his hands. Exactly as he wished it to be. ]
[Wrathion flicks the spell out of his occupied hand to leave it hovering somewhere nearby so that he might steady the other man with both. Despite the feverish state he seems to be in suddenly, he takes great care in moving his hands over and between the ropes, fingertips grazing whatever patch of skin they happen to find until they settle at his hips.
Slowly, he lowers himself to his knees, vaguely aware of how his own length has begun to grow heavy between his legs. But there would be time for that later. Right now, he's got Anduin precisely where he wants him -- tied, in front of a mirror, with Wrathion himself on his knees and yet somehow still in control of the situation.
There is little pretense this time when he leans in to kiss above the rope near the inside of his right thigh, and his head tilts up just enough to brush against the hands still bound in front of him.]
[ Just enough for his fingers to catch against those dark curls, but not enough to grasp. A tease if anything.
With a deep breath Anduin tears his gaze away from where Wrathion's mouth warms his skin, only to see the exact image in the mirror in front of him. How positively obscene they look together.
How breathtaking.
His eyes dart back almost at once, choosing instead to fix on the glow of Wrathion's eyes as best as he could see, considering the angle. ]
[Wrathion continues his quest, plucking at the rope with his teeth until his tongue finds the underside of Anduin's cock. He is not necessarily surprised to find that he is already half hard -- and part of him wonders how much is due to him being rope drunk, and how much of it is simply a result of the uniquely intimate nature of his choices this evening.
He does not have the frame of mind to think of it for too long just now. Instead, he slowly indulges in sliding his tone straight from base to tip, exhaling the heavy heat that has coiled in his lungs.
On his way up, those glowing red eyes catch his stare -- and he holds it in a most daring way as he works his lips and his tongue back downwards.]
[ There's a noise caught in the next exhale of breath, strained slightly as his fingers curl in towards his palms. It feels like the heat of those burning eyes is swallowing him whole, and there's little he can do but watch as Wrathion makes his desires known. Any attempt at movement expires in a momentary flex of muscle against the cords, before surrendering to their hold once again.
Of course that half-stirring is further encouraged by his work. The dragon's wicked tongue is seemingly all that's needed to get him to grow fully hard, teeth sinking into the edge of his lip to steady himself on his feet. ]
[He will remember the way he squirms in those bindings later, and how quickly he surrenders that control to him. One hand wraps firmly around his own cock, unable to leave it completely unattended in the face of all of this work he's done. Even his normal levels of careful self control will not allow it.
He just. Needs to hold it. It will help his patience.
The sound of his name causes him to rise slightly upward upon his knees, hands drifting from his hips to the small of his back to stabilize his balance. In retrospect, this would have been more practically done on the bed -- but practicality isn't really what is driving him, at the present.
The desire swims in his eyes, which drift shut briefly as he reangles his mouth to take him past his lips, as he had done once before. This time, he has learned how best to mind his teeth, which leaves him to focus instead on a steady and slow rhythm. His tongue remains flat beneath him and his cheeks hollow out with the effort to swallow him down the next time his lips part to accept him.]
[ He's learned. Because of course he has. Had he thought of doing this again? It's a heady thought, that Wrathion might have let his thoughts linger on such a thing when Anduin wasn't there, and when the dragon reaches down to touch himself through the thin fabric of his pants...
Another soft noise catches in his throat, eyes flickering momentarily shut as that incredible warmth draws him in. He's close enough now that he can wind his fingers through his hair at last, but without much room to guide or encourage. Simply to hold, fingertips curling against his scalp with a shivery exhale passing over parted lips.
If this is what he wants? It's his. He could ask for anything right now, surely he knows that. ]
[The sound he coaxes from Anduin is all the encouragement he needs with the adrenaline spike in his blood, but the tied hands reaching to card through his hair certainly offers its own appeal. It is enough to encourage him to experiment with taking more of him, relaxing his lower jaw as much as he is able. A slow descent, until he can feel him approaching the back of his throat.
And he holds there for a long moment, perfectly content with it until the exact moment he isn't, at which point he retreats again. When his mouth comes off of his cock, a string of saliva carries with it, stuck to his pointed canines. All the while, the hand between his own legs continues a much slower stroke -- just enough to take the edge off.
Wrathion's head comes to rest against his inner thigh, one arm still braced to steady him.]
I would like to move to to the bed ... it would be a shame if you were to collapse here when I am through.
[There is a sultry note of calm that has been previously absent during their other sexual escapades -- the certain confidence that comes with being in complete control.]
[ It's a good look for him, admittedly. Though used to Wrathon's general bravado, this is a different animal entirely. The sensuality of it is deliberate, the way his lips glisten wetly as he draws back and the slow burn of his gaze, as if daring him not to look away.
There's no hiding how pink he is now, even in the low light. The ropes strain with the unsteady rise and fall of his chest, which of course tugs at everything else, tightening those knots and pulling them closer and he can feel where it hitches up between his thighs in time with those shortened breaths.
Close to where Wrathion is currently resting his head, at the moment. ]
Somehow...I don't think you'd mind all that much.
[ It would certainly be a boost to his ego, wouldn't it? ]
Perhaps not. But I imagine it might dampen your desire to reattempt, if I were so careless.
[He is not entirely unaware of the concept that actions have consequences -- he is just used to avoiding them for as long as possible while still doing exactly what he wants.
Still, he's declared his intent, which means Anduin will have to wait a moment longer to have Wrathion's attention back upon his cock. The dragon stands, stretching upwards as he does, and proceeds to guide him back to the mattress. The light near the mirror fades as he puts distance between them and the spell.
When they reach the bed, Wrathion has the presence of mind to guide Anduin down to his back this time rather than just sitting him upright. Once that is done, he returns a hand to massaging his cock, spreading the saliva already present rather than adding to it. He has better control of the progression of things, this way.
But that does not stop his tongue from sliding thoughtfully across his canines.]
After all, there exists an entire library of additional things to add to the...experience.
[ The moments between are actually a boon. It lets him settle back into his own skin once more, catching his breath as his bare feet pad across the carpet.
He can't help but be grateful he'd chosen to have his hands tied in front when Wrathion presses him back into the sheets, and Anduin draws up a knee to catch his heel on the edge of the mattress, pulling himself up as best he can to make room. The dragon has all the appearance of a large predatory animal settling in for a meal, the way he drapes himself nearby with his gaze full of promise.
The blond's tongue darts over his lips almost in answer, eyelids fluttering slightly at the renewed touch to his cock, now fully hard and standing proudly, glistening wetly in the candlelight as strong, warm fingers wind and glide around him. ]
You sound like you have something in mind, already...
[ Harder to tease when he already sounds a little breathless. ]
[His hand continues to shuttle lazily, the other gently playing across his chest and pausing to flick a nipple as his fingers wander past. The dragon's eyes lift to the ajar armoire, but he makes no movement to lift himself. Additional accoutrement could be introduced at another hour.
He does not want to leave him tied for longer than necessary. Even with his hands tied in front of him, it wouldn't be too long before his bones found fatigue and that they would need to talk of disengaging.]
You will just have to indulge me, your highness.
[When his hand closes a bit tighter around his shaft, that appears to be the sign that Wrathion is done talking and his focus is shifting. His mouth lowers again, taking place of the hand ghosting across his chest. The dragon drags his teeth along skin there, where it has grown most pink. He soothes the marks he leaves behind with his tongue.]
[ Anduin almost chuckles. There is always this aspect to it, no matter how they engage one another. That bite of pain with the pleasure seems inherent to this dance of theirs, and its return settles something deeper than bone and muscle.
The priest's eyes shut with a hitched breath, feeling the scrape of teeth in every detail, the warm wet dart of the dragon's tongue, the way his breath catches beneath the rope where it's almost certainly left an indention in his skin from being held taut for so long.
The descent is slow, almost excruciatingly so. Time stretches as the pressure of the knots, the slick strokes of Wrathion's fingers, and the pinch of teeth all vie for his attention and focus. His fingers curl and uncurl, hips arching in an almost languid stretch, as much as he dares without tugging at the rope further. ]
[Wrathion, on the other hand, does chuckle when Anduin volleys it back toward him. It is enough to coax him to halt his descent just enough to rest his head upon his stomach, turning to glance up at the young blonde with -- something. There's something different there in his eyes this time.
Adoration? Perhaps.]
You are certainly doing your best.
[It doesn't have the same flippancy to it when he says it. And, rather than return to abusing his torso, Wrathion returns to placing his lips upon the head of his cock. His hand, still wet with saliva, wriggles beneath the priest and through the small bit of rope between his cheeks.
The next time his mouth comes down, one probing finger slowly slips inside of him.]
[ There's warmth in those words he's not used to, sentiment in those eyes that rarely shines through. Even in the haze of sensation, an intrusive thought finds its way through.
How do you know if someone is in love with you? I guess if they tell you but... what if they don't?
I'm not sure I know how to answer that. No one's ever been in love with me.
He doesn't have time to dwell too long on that conversation with Jacob, not so very long ago. Instead he's treated to the sight of Wrathion wrapping his lips around him, a sight which scatters all other thoughts like dry leaves in the wind. That's even before the clever fingers plying at the rope tug in such a way that nudges that knot up beneath his balls, with a pressure that has him momentarily seeing stars and knocks the breath from his lungs.
It's not a surprise when the slick, dexterous slide of a finger joins the fray, but the soft moan that follows is by all accounts obscene, even to his own ears, thighs spreading wider of their own accord. ]
I...I was going ask if you would...
[ Now it seems there was little need. Somehow, Wrathion had known exactly what he needed anyway. ]
[Wrathion hums notably with his mouth still around Anduin's cock. Oh the desire has certainly been there, for quite a long time. Perhaps if he had planned this better, it would not just be his finger the king was treated to. It would be unkind to spend the time he would need to prepare him for more than just fingers, given how much he has been stringing him along with the rope and his mouth.
And yet, the way his legs spread, the way he moans for just that alone -- it grabs his attention in a way that pulls at something primal within him, enough that he finds himself chaffing between his own bedsheets and the silk pants he still wears.
The best distraction is honest work. He did have a plan, and it is easy to fall back into it. He continues with his mouth (and how he salivates for the depths he allows Anduin's cock), faster now as he continues to probe with his finger, curling just so when he cannot go any farther.
If anything could coax him to forget what lies beyond the apartment door--]
[ Oh, he finds what he's looking for. He'd know it the moment Anduin's head jerked to one side, biting back a cry at the sudden surge of crackling pleasure that blurs the edges of his senses, narrowing his scope down intensely. As if he were nothing more than so many parts that could feel, so many sensations he could process.
Free of everything else.
His cock twitches against Wrathion's tongue, toes curling against the sheets as he tries to move, back against that insistent pressure pressing snugly inward, until he can feel that same jolt rushing through his body once more. Of course every movement twists his bonds tighter, maddeningly so, until the young king was left desperately panting against the sheets crushed against his cheek. ]
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But they'd never done anything by conventional means, had they?
There's a reassuring tilt of his head, bumping against Wrathion's with a tickling sweep of soft blond hair, and as much as he can move his fingers to run against the dragon's fingers, he does. ]
I'm here when you are.
[ Whatever form that takes, for them. ]
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[The bump of his head encourages him to lift his eyes again, staring down the hallway in quiet contemplation as he feels his body begin to warm Anduin's to a level that may, perhaps, discomfort the human. He unwinds just enough to allow his skin to breath, cheek still pressed against the other man's head.
There are things he still wants to say. Things he is still figuring out exactly how to say.
As a result, the withdrawing of his hands from the rope is slower and more deliberate.]
Would you like to see?
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If you're finished.
[ Whatever dwells in Wrathion's mind will come in time, or it won't. He's accepted that by now, patient to the last, but it's an unspoken relief to see even this much from him, to feel that sense of want and affection from him to remind him that this is still very much evenly felt between them. ]
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A snap of his fingers lights a small spark, enough to illuminate the pair of them -- Anduin in the foreground, and Wrathion himself behind. The sight encourages Wrathion to rest his head back down upon him, though his free hand remains hooked in the ropework at the king's back.
It was a simple thing -- it could get more complex. He'd seen as much. But that was some of the beauty of it. As much as he might have appeared to have planned the entire evening, there was a sense of spontaneity to it.]
If only everyone could be so fortunate as I, to be blessed with such a view.
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The initial curiosity had been the ropework, which is of course stunning. But the elegant crisscrossed pattern of crimson rope over his body highlights the curve of hard-earned muscle, the slender jut of his hips, the flat slope of his stomach, and perfectly frame his half-hard cock. He can see when the tension lies with Wrathion's fingers curled into the knots at his back, the faint dig of the rope into his skin.
Though often told how attractive he is by others, this might be the first time he feels it might be true. Wrathion's pleased expression hovering over his shoulder certainly helps, and once his eyes trail back up to meet the dragon's gaze in the mirror he feels his face flush. ]
This was your first?
[ It's flawlessly done, so far as he can tell of such things. ]
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It was.
[He has no problem admitting that. Perhaps it was not so surprising -- after all, it was a fairly intimate act. His first attempt at it couldn't be with just anyone.
His eyes drop lower, his smirk stretching just a bit more when he spots that Anduin is, in fact, still aroused. Wrathion's own cock remains out of view, but given that he cannot seem to keep his hands off of him...well.]
It helps to have a cooperative model.
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You're pleased with your work, then?
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It could be better. But I suppose practice makes perfect.
[His hands drag backwards, one finger tracing down the other man's spine between the rope until it finds his tailbone. He knows very well what he wants -- but he also knows that this is not about him. More importantly, there was a high chance that he would harm Anduin if he tried anything particularly strenuous while he was still tied.
The sigh behind him is heavy, and he lowers his mouth to press another kiss to his shoulder. And then another upon his neck as he relocates to the front of him, finding a grip on the ropes again to pull him him for a deep kiss.]
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He doubts he could pull back out of Wrathion's grip if he wanted to.
Not that he wants to. Despite the initial realization of how compromised he was like this, Anduin still tilts his head, fearlessly seeking the warm press of Wrathion's mouth. He doesn't care, and in fact he can feel himself stirring against the ropes.
For once, it's not up to him, save for that one word. The decision is out of his hands. Exactly as he wished it to be. ]
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Slowly, he lowers himself to his knees, vaguely aware of how his own length has begun to grow heavy between his legs. But there would be time for that later. Right now, he's got Anduin precisely where he wants him -- tied, in front of a mirror, with Wrathion himself on his knees and yet somehow still in control of the situation.
There is little pretense this time when he leans in to kiss above the rope near the inside of his right thigh, and his head tilts up just enough to brush against the hands still bound in front of him.]
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With a deep breath Anduin tears his gaze away from where Wrathion's mouth warms his skin, only to see the exact image in the mirror in front of him. How positively obscene they look together.
How breathtaking.
His eyes dart back almost at once, choosing instead to fix on the glow of Wrathion's eyes as best as he could see, considering the angle. ]
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He does not have the frame of mind to think of it for too long just now. Instead, he slowly indulges in sliding his tone straight from base to tip, exhaling the heavy heat that has coiled in his lungs.
On his way up, those glowing red eyes catch his stare -- and he holds it in a most daring way as he works his lips and his tongue back downwards.]
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Of course that half-stirring is further encouraged by his work. The dragon's wicked tongue is seemingly all that's needed to get him to grow fully hard, teeth sinking into the edge of his lip to steady himself on his feet. ]
Wrathion...
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He just. Needs to hold it. It will help his patience.
The sound of his name causes him to rise slightly upward upon his knees, hands drifting from his hips to the small of his back to stabilize his balance. In retrospect, this would have been more practically done on the bed -- but practicality isn't really what is driving him, at the present.
The desire swims in his eyes, which drift shut briefly as he reangles his mouth to take him past his lips, as he had done once before. This time, he has learned how best to mind his teeth, which leaves him to focus instead on a steady and slow rhythm. His tongue remains flat beneath him and his cheeks hollow out with the effort to swallow him down the next time his lips part to accept him.]
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Another soft noise catches in his throat, eyes flickering momentarily shut as that incredible warmth draws him in. He's close enough now that he can wind his fingers through his hair at last, but without much room to guide or encourage. Simply to hold, fingertips curling against his scalp with a shivery exhale passing over parted lips.
If this is what he wants? It's his. He could ask for anything right now, surely he knows that. ]
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And he holds there for a long moment, perfectly content with it until the exact moment he isn't, at which point he retreats again. When his mouth comes off of his cock, a string of saliva carries with it, stuck to his pointed canines. All the while, the hand between his own legs continues a much slower stroke -- just enough to take the edge off.
Wrathion's head comes to rest against his inner thigh, one arm still braced to steady him.]
I would like to move to to the bed ... it would be a shame if you were to collapse here when I am through.
[There is a sultry note of calm that has been previously absent during their other sexual escapades -- the certain confidence that comes with being in complete control.]
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There's no hiding how pink he is now, even in the low light. The ropes strain with the unsteady rise and fall of his chest, which of course tugs at everything else, tightening those knots and pulling them closer and he can feel where it hitches up between his thighs in time with those shortened breaths.
Close to where Wrathion is currently resting his head, at the moment. ]
Somehow...I don't think you'd mind all that much.
[ It would certainly be a boost to his ego, wouldn't it? ]
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[He is not entirely unaware of the concept that actions have consequences -- he is just used to avoiding them for as long as possible while still doing exactly what he wants.
Still, he's declared his intent, which means Anduin will have to wait a moment longer to have Wrathion's attention back upon his cock. The dragon stands, stretching upwards as he does, and proceeds to guide him back to the mattress. The light near the mirror fades as he puts distance between them and the spell.
When they reach the bed, Wrathion has the presence of mind to guide Anduin down to his back this time rather than just sitting him upright. Once that is done, he returns a hand to massaging his cock, spreading the saliva already present rather than adding to it. He has better control of the progression of things, this way.
But that does not stop his tongue from sliding thoughtfully across his canines.]
After all, there exists an entire library of additional things to add to the...experience.
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He can't help but be grateful he'd chosen to have his hands tied in front when Wrathion presses him back into the sheets, and Anduin draws up a knee to catch his heel on the edge of the mattress, pulling himself up as best he can to make room. The dragon has all the appearance of a large predatory animal settling in for a meal, the way he drapes himself nearby with his gaze full of promise.
The blond's tongue darts over his lips almost in answer, eyelids fluttering slightly at the renewed touch to his cock, now fully hard and standing proudly, glistening wetly in the candlelight as strong, warm fingers wind and glide around him. ]
You sound like you have something in mind, already...
[ Harder to tease when he already sounds a little breathless. ]
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[His hand continues to shuttle lazily, the other gently playing across his chest and pausing to flick a nipple as his fingers wander past. The dragon's eyes lift to the ajar armoire, but he makes no movement to lift himself. Additional accoutrement could be introduced at another hour.
He does not want to leave him tied for longer than necessary. Even with his hands tied in front of him, it wouldn't be too long before his bones found fatigue and that they would need to talk of disengaging.]
You will just have to indulge me, your highness.
[When his hand closes a bit tighter around his shaft, that appears to be the sign that Wrathion is done talking and his focus is shifting. His mouth lowers again, taking place of the hand ghosting across his chest. The dragon drags his teeth along skin there, where it has grown most pink. He soothes the marks he leaves behind with his tongue.]
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[ Anduin almost chuckles. There is always this aspect to it, no matter how they engage one another. That bite of pain with the pleasure seems inherent to this dance of theirs, and its return settles something deeper than bone and muscle.
The priest's eyes shut with a hitched breath, feeling the scrape of teeth in every detail, the warm wet dart of the dragon's tongue, the way his breath catches beneath the rope where it's almost certainly left an indention in his skin from being held taut for so long.
The descent is slow, almost excruciatingly so. Time stretches as the pressure of the knots, the slick strokes of Wrathion's fingers, and the pinch of teeth all vie for his attention and focus. His fingers curl and uncurl, hips arching in an almost languid stretch, as much as he dares without tugging at the rope further. ]
Nn. Who could refuse the Black Prince?
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Adoration? Perhaps.]
You are certainly doing your best.
[It doesn't have the same flippancy to it when he says it. And, rather than return to abusing his torso, Wrathion returns to placing his lips upon the head of his cock. His hand, still wet with saliva, wriggles beneath the priest and through the small bit of rope between his cheeks.
The next time his mouth comes down, one probing finger slowly slips inside of him.]
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How do you know if someone is in love with you? I guess if they tell you but... what if they don't?
I'm not sure I know how to answer that. No one's ever been in love with me.
He doesn't have time to dwell too long on that conversation with Jacob, not so very long ago. Instead he's treated to the sight of Wrathion wrapping his lips around him, a sight which scatters all other thoughts like dry leaves in the wind. That's even before the clever fingers plying at the rope tug in such a way that nudges that knot up beneath his balls, with a pressure that has him momentarily seeing stars and knocks the breath from his lungs.
It's not a surprise when the slick, dexterous slide of a finger joins the fray, but the soft moan that follows is by all accounts obscene, even to his own ears, thighs spreading wider of their own accord. ]
I...I was going ask if you would...
[ Now it seems there was little need. Somehow, Wrathion had known exactly what he needed anyway. ]
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And yet, the way his legs spread, the way he moans for just that alone -- it grabs his attention in a way that pulls at something primal within him, enough that he finds himself chaffing between his own bedsheets and the silk pants he still wears.
The best distraction is honest work. He did have a plan, and it is easy to fall back into it. He continues with his mouth (and how he salivates for the depths he allows Anduin's cock), faster now as he continues to probe with his finger, curling just so when he cannot go any farther.
If anything could coax him to forget what lies beyond the apartment door--]
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Free of everything else.
His cock twitches against Wrathion's tongue, toes curling against the sheets as he tries to move, back against that insistent pressure pressing snugly inward, until he can feel that same jolt rushing through his body once more. Of course every movement twists his bonds tighter, maddeningly so, until the young king was left desperately panting against the sheets crushed against his cheek. ]
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