All for naught, I'm afraid. I wound up developing a taste for them after all.
[ He feels more than sees the wandering of those talons, tracing his chest through the thin fabric. In turn, his own bluntly-clipped nails drag against his scalp, circling slowly. ]
After the first few times I managed to burn my tongue, of course.
[ Stormwind had not possessed an abundance of spicy food for him to grow accustomed to, admittedly. The initial discovery had likely been hilarious to all but the young prince. ]
[Indeed, Wrathion chuckles as Anduin recalls the memory for him, palm resting flat to brace himself against the way it makes his shoulders shudder. He has no desire to move all that much with the way his hand cards through his curls and scratches along his scalp.]
Well, it improved your taste. I suppose that is not nothing. Speaking of taste--
[He turns his face outward to glance back at the bottle on the counter.]
It has a peculiar taste I did not expect. Truthfully, I would have bought something smaller, but -- well, apparently, there is a standard size.
[ Anduin's gaze follows his, lighting on the now much-diminished bottle before darting to his own glass, abandoned nearby and still as full as when he had poured it. ]
I...don't think I actually tried any. Is it peculiar for a red?
[ Then, another option occurs to him, and he's grateful his smile is hidden for the moment. ]
[It occurs to him that he should perhaps be offended that Anduin did not drink his wine. A hum escapes him, and he shifts just a little to sit a little straighter. He feels a touch lightheaded when he does.
It causes him to clear his throat, brows pinched proudly.]
I have not had very much wine before. I have had wine -- when it has been required.
[Which was almost never admittedly, outside of some social situations in the city. It was not a preferred Pandaren drink, certainly.]
[But Anduin is correct -- he has not had nearly this much wine before. As well, he is not certain he is very enthusiastic about the side effects. Particularly if it opens the door for this teasing.
That is when he spots Anduin's grin, which he reaches up to smother with one palm.]
[When Anduin pulls his hand away, Wrathion finds that he is just tipsy enough to take it as an invitation to begin a game. He smirks just a little and wrestles to get his other hand back over his face, grasping onto the one he's already used to pry the first hand away.]
You dare refuse what the gift I've offered to you? The absolute nerve of you, Anduin Wrynn.
[ At which point, Anduin's brow pinches. With his free hand caught, and the other still wound around Wrathion's shoulders, there's not much he can do to wiggle loose from this one...
So what would a dragon do?
He waits, until the Black Prince has laid the charges of his offense at his feet, and at first it seems he might plead mercy. Right up until he turns his head slightly, and nips at the heel of Wrathion's palm in response. ]
[Dramatically, Wrathion hisses when his hand is bitten, reflexively allowing it to slide away from Anduin's mouth so that his wrist falls limp.]
Hmph. This is why gags were invented.
[It takes some effort to untangle himself both from Anduin and the pillow pile, so he does it just enough with the intention of reaching over the king for his abandoned glass.]
[ As he shuffles back into the pillows, just enough to let Wrathion reach over him for the glass. Now he's a little more grateful he didn't fill it any further than he did. ]
You bit me, in my own home. I am fairly certain that qualifies regardless.
[The small smirk he offers suggests he is not actually upset. Whether that was because Anduin had chosen to comply and drink or because he was actually amused at the king's response to his mild attempt at restraint is unclear.
But he returns to his previous position, curled up in Anduin's arm and looking mildly unfocused.]
[ So far, it appears that Wrathion was right. Nothing additional in the drink. No immediate sense of something being off, or wrong, or strange about it. It really just must be an unfamiliarity with the drink that puzzled him so.
Taking another sip, he lets his arm slip back around the dragon's shoulders. It feels comfortable, right, but in a way he knows he can't take for granted. ]
It appears I'm not the only terrible influence in the room.
Being a terrible influence is in my nature. You would not be nearly as fond of me otherwise.
[He tips his chin up to watch Anduin indulge, and notes how his expression does not seem to pinch. Apparently, it was indeed just him.]
Well, if it is to your liking, you may take the bottle with you when you go. I do not imagine I will do anything but pour it down the drain after it turns.
[ No pinch, no wrinkle of the nose, nothing but curiosity at the taste. Alcohol in moderation wasn't unusual at royal meals, after all. Anduin had only truly balked at the idea of drinking to excess, but those reasons were personal.
And Wrathion did not seem to suffer from the same demons as Varian Wrynn had. ]
If I remind you enough, perhaps my influence will increase.
[Wrathion considers the question that follows some serious thought. It is plain on his face, and his hand reaches up to smooth out of beard while he considers.]
It is not remarkable enough, unless indulged in excess. And I have little reason for that sort of indulgence.
[Because he'd die before admitting that the cuddling is an improvement on his day.]
[ With another huff, Anduin smiles and takes another sip. Well. Wrathion's not wrong. It's fine, but it's no different from any red he's tried before. Not too dry, not too sweet. ]
I don't know. I think I'm quite enjoying it, actually.
[ Not the wine itself, necessarily. But this? He could live with more evenings like this. ]
[ His eyes follow Wrathion's fingers, the curve of his claws, toying with the thin fabric that by design had very little give to it at all. It is pleasant, admittedly. Nowhere to go, nothing to do, no sense of urgency, not even the distraction that usually follows when they were in close proximity to one another.
This isn't the same as it had been to start. He can recognize that. Then it had felt like a thread of tension on the constant verge of snapping. This...this is something else. ]
I think your bed is definitely the more comfortable. How many pillows have you managed to hoard away?
[He shifts in Anduin's arms a little, scooting up so that he can turn and observe the formed pile. But it is too hard to count while they are laying on them.
So eventually, he settles back down and rests his head on Anduin's shoulder.]
I have lost count. I had a thought once of refurbishing to lower the entire bed into a bit of a pit -- but that seems a better project for a home than temporary living arrangements.
[ A thoughtful noise, and Anduin's fingers lift to graze the dragon's temple, near where that ridge of scales sometimes appeared. But it's merely to stroke a few errant curls away from his face as the warmth of his frame settles in against his once more. ]
Well, if you're going to start a proper hoard, I could think of far less comfortable spoils.
You know I prefer ancient and occasionally dangerous Titan artifacts, but this realm sadly lacking.
[There is a dramatic melancholy to his words, but he seems content enough to close one eye as it graces his temple, feeling his heart stutter with the contact. It wasn't quite ticklish, but it was an odd sensation to feel.]
So: pillows it is.
[That was at least one thing the city couldn't question him on having too much of.]
At least there's no risk of you eating the pillows.
[ Speaking of the Titans, and things Wrathion liked to collect.
Though even as his brow furrows, he doesn't draw away. Instead his fingers continue to trail idly through the dragon's dark hair, the glass of wine lifted to his lips once more.
Hard to say if that warmth growing under his skin is due to the alcohol, or the dragon's proximity. ]
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[ He feels more than sees the wandering of those talons, tracing his chest through the thin fabric. In turn, his own bluntly-clipped nails drag against his scalp, circling slowly. ]
After the first few times I managed to burn my tongue, of course.
[ Stormwind had not possessed an abundance of spicy food for him to grow accustomed to, admittedly. The initial discovery had likely been hilarious to all but the young prince. ]
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Well, it improved your taste. I suppose that is not nothing. Speaking of taste--
[He turns his face outward to glance back at the bottle on the counter.]
It has a peculiar taste I did not expect. Truthfully, I would have bought something smaller, but -- well, apparently, there is a standard size.
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I...don't think I actually tried any. Is it peculiar for a red?
[ Then, another option occurs to him, and he's grateful his smile is hidden for the moment. ]
Or have you not had wine, before?
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It causes him to clear his throat, brows pinched proudly.]
I have not had very much wine before. I have had wine -- when it has been required.
[Which was almost never admittedly, outside of some social situations in the city. It was not a preferred Pandaren drink, certainly.]
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[ And as he sits up, Anduin's grin is unmistakable. No wonder the dragon is so content to just be held and fussed over.
Well that's just unbearably endearing. ]
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[But Anduin is correct -- he has not had nearly this much wine before. As well, he is not certain he is very enthusiastic about the side effects. Particularly if it opens the door for this teasing.
That is when he spots Anduin's grin, which he reaches up to smother with one palm.]
Don't look so smug.
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[ Though the words themselves are somewhat muffled against Wrathion's palm, before he can reach a hand up to pry it away.
He does have the grace to look at least somewhat repentant. ]
Though I suppose that makes this a little unfair now, doesn't it? Since I haven't had any at all.
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You dare refuse what the gift I've offered to you? The absolute nerve of you, Anduin Wrynn.
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[ At which point, Anduin's brow pinches. With his free hand caught, and the other still wound around Wrathion's shoulders, there's not much he can do to wiggle loose from this one...
So what would a dragon do?
He waits, until the Black Prince has laid the charges of his offense at his feet, and at first it seems he might plead mercy. Right up until he turns his head slightly, and nips at the heel of Wrathion's palm in response. ]
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Hmph. This is why gags were invented.
[It takes some effort to untangle himself both from Anduin and the pillow pile, so he does it just enough with the intention of reaching over the king for his abandoned glass.]
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[ As he shuffles back into the pillows, just enough to let Wrathion reach over him for the glass. Now he's a little more grateful he didn't fill it any further than he did. ]
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[He moves back to settle where he started, remarkably graceful despite his altered state, and holds out the glass for Anduin.]
Come now. Are you going to make me feed you?
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[ The dragon gets an incredulous look as he takes the glass from his hand. ]
I'm fairly certain I would have had to agree to obey you in the first place.
[ Never mind that he's doing exactly as he's asked, and in the very next moment he's taking a tentative drink of the wine. ]
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[The small smirk he offers suggests he is not actually upset. Whether that was because Anduin had chosen to comply and drink or because he was actually amused at the king's response to his mild attempt at restraint is unclear.
But he returns to his previous position, curled up in Anduin's arm and looking mildly unfocused.]
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Taking another sip, he lets his arm slip back around the dragon's shoulders. It feels comfortable, right, but in a way he knows he can't take for granted. ]
It appears I'm not the only terrible influence in the room.
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[He tips his chin up to watch Anduin indulge, and notes how his expression does not seem to pinch. Apparently, it was indeed just him.]
Well, if it is to your liking, you may take the bottle with you when you go. I do not imagine I will do anything but pour it down the drain after it turns.
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[ No pinch, no wrinkle of the nose, nothing but curiosity at the taste. Alcohol in moderation wasn't unusual at royal meals, after all. Anduin had only truly balked at the idea of drinking to excess, but those reasons were personal.
And Wrathion did not seem to suffer from the same demons as Varian Wrynn had. ]
So, you've decided it's not to your taste?
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[Wrathion considers the question that follows some serious thought. It is plain on his face, and his hand reaches up to smooth out of beard while he considers.]
It is not remarkable enough, unless indulged in excess. And I have little reason for that sort of indulgence.
[Because he'd die before admitting that the cuddling is an improvement on his day.]
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[ With another huff, Anduin smiles and takes another sip. Well. Wrathion's not wrong. It's fine, but it's no different from any red he's tried before. Not too dry, not too sweet. ]
I don't know. I think I'm quite enjoying it, actually.
[ Not the wine itself, necessarily. But this? He could live with more evenings like this. ]
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[He is drowsy, but not drowsy enough to miss the implication Anduin is making. It causes him to go quiet for a few moments.
In the midst of silence, he goes back to picking at Anduin's shirt, smoothing out the peaks he makes with a warm palm.]
There are certainly worse things I could be doing.
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This isn't the same as it had been to start. He can recognize that. Then it had felt like a thread of tension on the constant verge of snapping. This...this is something else. ]
I think your bed is definitely the more comfortable. How many pillows have you managed to hoard away?
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[He shifts in Anduin's arms a little, scooting up so that he can turn and observe the formed pile. But it is too hard to count while they are laying on them.
So eventually, he settles back down and rests his head on Anduin's shoulder.]
I have lost count. I had a thought once of refurbishing to lower the entire bed into a bit of a pit -- but that seems a better project for a home than temporary living arrangements.
[Not that he has looked into a house.]
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[ A thoughtful noise, and Anduin's fingers lift to graze the dragon's temple, near where that ridge of scales sometimes appeared. But it's merely to stroke a few errant curls away from his face as the warmth of his frame settles in against his once more. ]
Well, if you're going to start a proper hoard, I could think of far less comfortable spoils.
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[There is a dramatic melancholy to his words, but he seems content enough to close one eye as it graces his temple, feeling his heart stutter with the contact. It wasn't quite ticklish, but it was an odd sensation to feel.]
So: pillows it is.
[That was at least one thing the city couldn't question him on having too much of.]
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[ Speaking of the Titans, and things Wrathion liked to collect.
Though even as his brow furrows, he doesn't draw away. Instead his fingers continue to trail idly through the dragon's dark hair, the glass of wine lifted to his lips once more.
Hard to say if that warmth growing under his skin is due to the alcohol, or the dragon's proximity. ]
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