[ 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.
[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.]
[ 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. ]
[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.]
[ 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. ]
[He does not answer right away. When he's approached his feelings on this previously, the response had been different than what he had expected. He does not desire to be taken the wrong way, and so he gives some careful consideration about his answer.
It comes rather simply, with another lifting of his chin to rest against Anduin's shoulder -- and thus, his cheek.]
I was...concerned for you. I knew you would likely be alone in your apartment.
[He had left him alone enough times before. That is the core of it. His opinions on his friends and their shared acquaintances will be unwelcome, even if part of Wrathion feels that context is important. Its not what he needs to hear right now.
[ On its own, his concern had never been cause enough for him to stay. Much less to invite him here, where he could not simply leave when he liked. It wasn't so long ago that Wrathion had turned up on the streets of the city to carry him home to recover. But once safe in his apartment the dragon had left as swiftly as he was able.
How bad off must Anduin appear now? How much did Wrathion really know about what happened? ]
...and offering to tie me up seemed the best way to remedy that?
[ His tone stays light, even as the dragon's curious answer continues to run through his mind. ]
[ Not really. Not in the least. But he does smile as a result, lifting his hand -- and Wrathion's with it -- to brush his lips affectionately against the back of his knuckles. ]
Well, it certainly helped to not be alone.
[ And it seemed he'd been at least partially right. Whether it was the actual placement of the ropes, as he'd mentioned at the start, or whether it was something deeper and more abstract, he'd helped.
Being here with him stills the disquiet in him, if only for a little while. ]
[He feels Anduin shift and the soft press of his lips, which brings him back to the reality that this is purely a temporary state of affairs ... as always. Wrathion exhales softly at his back, lifting his chin away from the other man's shoulder to allow him the small affections he requires.
He could admit that they felt nice, even if he knew they could not last for more than a few hours at most. More important is the information Anduin gives him verbally.
As predicted, it had more to do with his presence than what they were doing.]
My door will remain open to you ... should you find it required, in the future.
[He's done more than enough to prove that he knows the value of discretion between them -- enough that some of the closest between them appear to still believe they are largely unacquainted with one another.
[ Anduin falls quiet again, knowing that while this might have been sorely needed...he can't trust himself to know when he'll need to pull back again. His instinct is always to forge ahead, to push through whatever troubles or obstacles lay before him, and deal with whatever happens to him as a result as a secondary.
But that's a weight he's not willing to let Wrathion carry. Surely he has enough to worry about. If he's already concerned enough to invite him here of his own accord, then that will have to be enough.
Instead, the young king press his lips to the dragon's hand again, this time to the edge of his palm, the heel of his thumb. ]
What about this?
[ The ropes had been...enlightening. More than enjoyable. But perhaps Wrathion's desire for research been sated, and thus his interest in that particular diversion diminished. ]
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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. ]
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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.]
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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. ]
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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.]
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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. ]
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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.]
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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. ]
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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.]
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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. ]
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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.]
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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. ]
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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.]
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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. ]
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[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.]
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[ 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. ]
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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.
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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.
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[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.
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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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It comes rather simply, with another lifting of his chin to rest against Anduin's shoulder -- and thus, his cheek.]
I was...concerned for you. I knew you would likely be alone in your apartment.
[He had left him alone enough times before. That is the core of it. His opinions on his friends and their shared acquaintances will be unwelcome, even if part of Wrathion feels that context is important. Its not what he needs to hear right now.
A concept that he is still learning.]
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How bad off must Anduin appear now? How much did Wrathion really know about what happened? ]
...and offering to tie me up seemed the best way to remedy that?
[ His tone stays light, even as the dragon's curious answer continues to run through his mind. ]
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Less so, when you say it like that.
[But given that it had helped -- or, perhaps more accurately, the intimacy with him that came with it had helped ... did it matter so much?]
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Well, it certainly helped to not be alone.
[ And it seemed he'd been at least partially right. Whether it was the actual placement of the ropes, as he'd mentioned at the start, or whether it was something deeper and more abstract, he'd helped.
Being here with him stills the disquiet in him, if only for a little while. ]
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He could admit that they felt nice, even if he knew they could not last for more than a few hours at most. More important is the information Anduin gives him verbally.
As predicted, it had more to do with his presence than what they were doing.]
My door will remain open to you ... should you find it required, in the future.
[He's done more than enough to prove that he knows the value of discretion between them -- enough that some of the closest between them appear to still believe they are largely unacquainted with one another.
He could loosen the reins just a smidge.]
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But that's a weight he's not willing to let Wrathion carry. Surely he has enough to worry about. If he's already concerned enough to invite him here of his own accord, then that will have to be enough.
Instead, the young king press his lips to the dragon's hand again, this time to the edge of his palm, the heel of his thumb. ]
What about this?
[ The ropes had been...enlightening. More than enjoyable. But perhaps Wrathion's desire for research been sated, and thus his interest in that particular diversion diminished. ]
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