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[ That gentle, familiar haze settles in, but it lacks the sense of completion that usually accompanies the act. Breathless and trembling, there's a sense of something still left undone...and the answer soon follows.

It's easier once his body has gone somewhat lax, shivering in the wake of that blinding rush of heat and pleasure. But he can still feel it acutely, the stretch of that second finger sliding in, and without hesitation he rocks his hips back again. Willing himself to take it, to let Wrathion ply him open.

Urging him to, in fact. ]

Please...

[His head comes off of his cock to stare upward at Anduin, tongue sliding across plush lips with just a dose of surprise. Lust consumes him when he is offered that plea, causing him to sit back up and crawl on top of him. Unfortunately, there are several carefully and artfully tied ropes in his way, and he will still need to pack his patience for just a bit longer.

Hastily, he stretches himself toward the nightstand to reach for the bottle there. So distracted by the desire to meet his need that he forgets he is still in a pair of pants, and thanks to how erect he's become, getting them off with one hand would prove to be something of a challenge. Suddenly, he is out of order and out of step -- but he does not want to lose the momentum.

First thing is first: better access. Two fingers come down to pluck just above his cock, singing the ropes until the heat of the magic he has called burns through them and releases the tension on the other man's body. It becomes easy to carefully lift it off of his cock and out of the way -- though he opts to leave his arms tied, for the time being. Instead of addressing that, he returns to the bottle to place a generous amount into his hand.

The temperature of it in comparison to the heat of his body leaves him momentarily quivering with cold as he rubs some of it off upon his cock -- a momentary sacrifice so that when his two fingers return to Anduin's ass to continue the task of stretching him, he does not fall victim to the same fate.]

Of course -- of course.

[There is a soothing note to his voice, an unspoken promise as he tosses the bottle away from him in favor of rubbing along the friction marks left by the rope upon Anduin's stomach.]

[ While he's grateful the black dragon hadn't burnt him loose entirely, the rope that falls away has certainly left a reminder behind. Standing stark against his pale skin, thick bands of skin rubbed a vivd red, the texture of the marks pebbled from the weave of the rope itself.

Nothing he couldn't heal, of course, but...not yet.

Just feeling cold air hit it again causes a reflexive shiver, before the heat of Wrathion's palm follows. Tension grips his thighs for a moment upon that initial push back within, but it's growing easier to breathe deep. To relax wholly. Honestly the way he worked with his hands was remarkable, as methodical and purposeful as anything else he ever did.

...and If he'd noticed the earlier fumbling in the dragon's rush to comply, there's no sign of it. Endearing as it might be to realize that he'd managed to catch Wrathion off guard, for a change. ]

[Wrathion leans in when he feels Anduin relaxing, eager for more contact to soothe his impatience. The rope left upon the other man's arms chafes against his chest when he does so, but it does not stop him from seeking out a kiss -- needy, with a small touch of desperation.

He's painfully oversensitive, enough that the high points of his shoulders go tense when his already lubricated cock brushes against Anduin's body as a result of their close distance.

The third finger slips inside after his tongue presses past his lips.]

[ What a dizzying rush that is. The additional pressure stings, sharp and prickling on the edges of his nerves, but the intake of breath parts his lips, just enough that Wrathion finds almost no obstacle to his kiss whatsoever.

Then the sting fades to a burn, to warmth that spreads under his skin. Moments later, he slowly breaks the kiss, head bumping briefly against Wrathion's. It's good, but he can take more.

He knows he can, now. ]

You don't need to...come on. I'm not made of glass. It's alright...

[ Anduin can feel precisely how desperate he is right now, after all. ]

[The direction -- it helps. It is good and possibly even necessary, though he would never open his mouth and admit it. It likely becomes obvious enough anyway, when he merely returns the small headbutt rather than actually moving to withdraw.

But eventually it processes and he does withdraw, instead taking his own cock in his hand to guide it to him. The process of entry, despite Anduin's words, is still slow -- though not necessarily because he is afraid of hurting the man underneath him. Wrathion is too sensitive for this, and despite his attempt to hold his breath, it bursts out of him in a heady exhale the further he pushes inward.

He clings to his forearms to steady himself, to leverage himself as he pushes along.]

Anduin...

[ For this, he doesn't turn his head. Doesn't look away or close his eyes. Instead his eyes follow the edges of Wrathion's frame illuminated in the soft candlight, the way it washes gold over his skin as he leans closer.

Save for the rope, it's at the risk of approaching romantic.

The idle thought earns a faint smile to himself, up until the moment that Wrathion actually starts to ease himself in. Even relaxed as he is, it's still not something he's used to, that sudden inescapable heat and pressure. With a strangled moan, his heels dig into the mattress beneath, adjusting the angle just so and... ]

Light, Wrathion...

[ Maybe he's underestimated himself--

No. No, it's alright. More than. It feels like he's slowing as he sinks in, giving them both a chance to remember to breathe. ]

[He has to pause, something in his lower back screaming at him to still for a moment. Wrathion's breaths come heavily, like a horse who's been put through its paces. It is hard for him to reconcile the fact that they could have been doing this the whole time -- and the way Anduin says his name triggers something in him that makes his bones feel soft.

The emotion that comes with it allows him to sink further until he finds himself at a hilt. Wrathion's forehead briefly comes to rest against Anduin's, lightheaded from the pressure and the flood of adrenaline still slowly mounting.

Anduin had specifically noted that he was not made of glass, and he has so clearly proven so with his ability to take him. So there is only a moment of shared breath between them before he starts to move. Wrathion's hands remove themselves from his arms and instead squirm beneath the king's body, hugging them as near as the bindings between them will allow.]

[ All the easier to feel the shakiness of the dragon's breath, as his chest hitches against Anduin's.

Wrathion's held out for so long, hasn't he? If he weren't bound, Anduin might have urged them over, settled atop his hips, and sweetly wrung that release from him. But there's little room for that now, barely able to curl his fingers. And he has no desire to break away from Wrathion's hold, that warm dark a welcome refuge with the familiar scent of the dragon breathed in.

While the priest might have already come, Wrathion was quickly proving there was still pleasure to be felt. When the other moves his hips, it still drags up a thrill from the friction, and a strangled sound slips free of his lips. It's almost this side of too much. Almost a little too raw for over-sensitive nerves.

Truthfully, he doesn't care if it is. There's clarity in this, simplicity. A moment where everything feels right for a moment, and not like an endless struggle, like reaching the eye of a storm. Stretching that moment out to last as long as possible sounds the perfect sort of agony. ]

[Perhaps fortunately for Anduin, Wrathion lacks the stamina to pursue for long, already strung out by how swiftly he'd aroused himself with the intimate activity of binding the priest with rope. His head bows, curls falling over his shoulders, the oppressive heat of his skin only growing with each thrust of his hips.

The release creeps up on him quickly, so quickly that he does not have room to silence the moans of pleasure that sweep him away in the first moments of climax. His voice waivers with the effort to wrest control of it, and when that fails, he simply allows himself to fall near-limp against Anduin beneath him, instead hiding his face in the crook of his neck.

It all does little to hide much of anything, but once the last of his orgasm has been wrung from him, he finds himself taken by the urge to press his lips against his neck and submits to it in spite of himself.]

[ A lesser tragedy, then, that he can reach up as he wants to, curl his fingers in at the nape of Wrathion's neck as he wishes to.

Instead the blond turns his head, nose drunkenly pressing into the ridge of his jaw just beneath his ear. His senses are swimming in him. His too-warm skin, the smell of sex and smoke and something mineral filling his nose. Wrathion's rapidly skipping heartbeat pounding against his own, slick with sweat and still rising and falling rapidly. The stretch and burn and shivery ache of where he remains pressed in against him, hips flush against Anduin's.

One thigh rises, pressing in against the side of his hip as he rests there, a heavy but not uncomfortable weight. It's the most he can do to return that hold, at the moment as his own body thrums softly in contentment.

That. That was. ]

[Anduin's shift to hold him with his thigh shakes him out of his momentary exhaustion, though it remains a struggle to push himself up enough to wriggle himself free of him. It is a slower process than he might prefer for how oversensitive he still is but -- better to do it while he is still hard than not.

Unfortunately, when he does finally come free, the temperature difference hits him immediately. A sound of discontent mumbles out of his chest, but with lack of anything better to correct the problem close at hand, he instead simply reaches for one of the thinner sheets to briefly wipe the mixture of fluid away. He can wash it later. He does not want to move right now.

Shifting up on his knees half way also makes him aware of the ache that runs down the entire center of his body from rubbing up against all of that rope. With one momentarily clumsy hand, he feels his way to the end of the knot and works to pull it free until the rope goes lax.]

[ One long, deep breath is enough to earn some slack from the bonds, enough to feel the pressure lessen around his chest and hips. Now, only the rope around his wrist remains...that and the vivid red lines left in their wake across his body, the cool air against raw skin earning a faint shiver.

As had the feeling of Wrathion pulling free, that heat and weight and pressure suddenly gone, the loss keenly felt at once.

But it doesn't appear that the dragon was making any rush to leave, and that's enough for Anduin. That momentary tension goes lax once more against the sheets, and another deep breath settles him further as his eyes lift towards burning red in silent question. ]

[Wrathion hesitates to undo the binding of Anduin's wrists, one hand resting there briefly as he ponders something privately.

That is when he catches the blue-eyed stare underneath him, and his grip cinches a little tighter. Of course, it was impossible to be upset for the slight detour the night had taken, but he cannot help but feel something small deep down that he had skipped a step somewhere along the line.

So he continues the task of undoing the rope until it falls away and leaves the other man's hands mostly free--save for the fact that Wrathion's fingers return there to rub small circles of apology. He had gotten carried away, perhaps. Even if it was to their mutual benefit.

The correct thing to do would be to pull away and ask what the king beneath him needed from him. And yet the thought of falling back into that role just yet feels...loathsome.]

[ Exhausted, Anduin doesn't fight against the gentle touch to try to pull himself back together again. Not just yet. Instead a soft sound passes his lips, a murmur of pleasure as those fingers rubbed against the indentations in his skin, easing some of the soreness that had already started to settle in.

As usual, it's impossible to parse whatever it is Wrathion is thinking of. That doesn't keep him from peering up at the edges of his expression, the low glimmer of red embers, and wondering. Something to do as his heartbeat starts to slow at long last. ]

[He sits there, upright and distracted enough that his skin starts to prickle with a chill, staring back down at Anduin like he is admiring a particularly expensive piece of art that he longs to possess some portion of. There is some weight to it as he continues to consider whatever that question was in the back of his mind.

And then, with a soft little sigh out of his nose, he rolls off the king and into the vast valley of his bed. For a moment, it seems like that might be the end.

But after a brief kick that shoves a good portion of the discarded rope away, he moves in close and wordlessly, pressing his chest against Anduin's back and wrapping his arms securely around his chest. His lips remain rested upon his shoulder thoughtfully.

The grip is just a touch tighter than it should be -- a remnant of some uncertainty that he cannot quite banish.]

[ For a moment, Wrathion withdrawing is exactly what he expects. The moment's passed, no matter how right it might have felt. Time to store it away in memory, heal himself, and pull himself together--

Only that's not quite what happens.

Maybe Wrathion notices the hitch of surprise when he presses in against Anduin's exposed back. He wouldn't put it past him. But once it's clear he's not withdrawing again immediately, Anduin's head sags forward in something almost like relief. The blond lifts a hand to clasp at the dragon's wrist, feeling the tickle of dark, curly hair where it falls past the edges of Wrathion's face.

He feels steadied. Safe. He feels--

What he'd do to keep this frightens him, just a little. ]

[When Anduin reaches for his wrist, Wrathion relaxes just a little. The hitch in his breath is not missed, but he also takes no grand steps to acknowledge it. Not acknowledging how well this all seems to fit together is smartest thing for them both to do. A little indulgence was no doubt unwise, but--

Well. It didn't hurt. Not right now. Better now, in this moment of privacy, then later where it would bring them both trouble. His bright red eyes momentarily drift shut, a measure to attempt to relax his heartbeat (which beats so strongly that he can feel it off of Anduin's back). But, true to his initial maneuver, he does not appear to be moving any time soon.

Eventually after a few moments, he opens his eyes again and lifts his chin.]

I should have untied you first.

[That's -- sort of an apology.]

[ Anduin's so quiet that for a moment, the dragon could be forgiven for thinking he'd fallen asleep there in his arms. But his eyes had opened a fraction, staring thoughtfully into some distant corner of the room.

He'd thought he was going to, when that first knot had burnt free. But what he'd felt hadn't been relief. ]

...I didn't want you to.

[ Maybe because it was easier that way. Something about tonight had shifted the dynamic they'd always shared. Wrathion more at ease, more open, Anduin able to leave that control in someone else's hands for a change and relax.

Maybe it bore further examination but...surely that could wait. ]

No?

[He frowns a little, hearing that. It should worry him, he thinks -- but he cannot put his finger on why. He was both too drowsy and too unwilling to pick through the various emotions associated with it all himself.

But now that its all fading, he can feel that unease of being near creeping back up his spine -- and instead of giving into it, he simply lowers his face again. He could have hurt him, but it seems that he did not. So perhaps it was not worth dwelling on.]

Mm.

[ The aches he felt from being pinned in that position, strained and uncomfortable, would fade. He'd felt far worse in his life, and the thought that Wrathion would use his vulnerable position to do him actual harm had never crossed his mind for a moment. Nothing done he couldn't heal, or sleep off.

For a moment his head turns, lips seeking the edge of the dragon's jaw with a drowsy murmur. ]

I trust you.

[ Though it feels like not entirely the correct word, it's the closest thing he could offer. ]

[When he feels Anduin move, Wrathion shifts slightly as well, adjusting his grip so that the free hand rests over the one Anduin has chosen to leave upon his wrist. The words 'I trust you' sink into him, and though it might seem a small sentiment, there is something about hearing it that makes something within him squirm.

He should know better than to say such things to him. But he cannot deny that it feels nice to hear.]

I am ... grateful.

[That also doesn't seem quite the right word or phrase he wants to use, but it is honest enough that he sounds very awkward saying it out loud. There were few other people living that possessed the patience and tolerance for Wrathion's ... personality, after all.

He tries again:]

I was surprised by your swift acceptance of my proposition.

[ Wrathion's always been honest, in his own way. Not necessarily forthright, but he can be trusted at his word. Even more so when it's so clearly an effort on his part to convey something genuine.

For the dragon, it's all but peeling back his own scales and offering himself up, in terms of how vulnerable he had to feel. Anduin just hums at the admission, letting his flump softly back against the pillows. ]

Thought you'd have to work harder?

[ The priest's lips curve slightly. ]

Now I'm curious what you would have said to try and convince me.

In truth, I do not know that I would have said anything.

[It had been something of a spontaneous suggestion, one that he was fully prepared to laugh off and act like he had no interest in. That was, of course, until Anduin had been so eager to submit to it.]

I proposed it because my research had suggested that it would help, and because I happened to be interested in confirming what information I had. If you disagreed ...

[He trails off into a hum, searching for what he wants to say.]

I did not invite you here so late simply to indulge myself.

[ The talk of research and confirmation of data might be off-putting, if it wasn't familiar by now. After all, Wrathion was brilliant, and tended to see the world as problems that could be solved. Equations and strategies and histories. Pieces on a board.

But he wasn't as firmly rooted in cold logic as one might assume. Here was the proof, resting warmly against him with the steady thump of a heartbeat against his shoulder blades. ]

Why did you?

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