[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. ]
[Wrathion's tongue slides over his lips at that comment, a low and mischievous chuckle echoing in response to his statement. It would have been a perfectly good waste of a Gift of the Titans if he had not eaten that heart, thank you very much.
His opposite arm blindly reaches to drag a pillow from the pile to rest on top of the pair of them and begins to drag his nails across it idly instead.]
On the other hand ... I might argue the risk of pillow eating in this room is quite high.
[ And then the meaning of his words settles in, and it's a good thing he wasn't drinking in that moment, for the way the young monarch suddenly flushes pink. ]
Don't pretend you aren't pleased with yourself for it.
[ One would think, as much as he's seen and done here in the city, he'd be less prone to it. But sometimes it appears he can still be taken by surprise.
Or the wine is starting to settle in. One of these things is true. ]
I would never dream of pretending otherwise. It is impeccably charming.
[Which is precisely why he's done it, of course. It was a nice change from the somber state of affairs that had called him there -- and getting Anduin to blush takes the focus off of that.]
[ When he'd considered the ways he might be able to help Wrathion, allowing him to tease him about his propensity for turning red was not precisely what he'd had in mind.
[His eyes drift closed, chin still perched on his shoulder. He is strangely at ease like this, warm and vaguely lost in the unfamiliar floating feeling. Wrathion casually brushes the pillow off of Anduin's lap, placing it under the arm still holding the wine.
He goes rather quiet afterwards. He may or may not have simply fallen asleep.]
[ Thus he remains for some time, unwilling to dislodge Wrathion just yet. While he knows he'll have to leave him to sleep on his own eventually, there's something remarkably peaceful about simply being here. No other reason than the comfort of one another's company.
How far things have come. Though not without due struggle along the way.
Eventually he does move, after the wine is gone from his glass and Wrathion's breathing seems to have evened out to some degree. He's careful, shifting so that the dragon's head finds a pillow almost immediately, pausing to peer down at his sleeping expression before leaning down.
There's more left to talk about, but it can wait. Neither of them are going anywhere, literally or figuratively.
A brief kiss against his temple, full of warmth and affection, and Anduin extricates himself to go take the glasses to the kitchen. And to retrieve the bottle of wine, before he goes. ]
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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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[Wrathion's tongue slides over his lips at that comment, a low and mischievous chuckle echoing in response to his statement. It would have been a perfectly good waste of a Gift of the Titans if he had not eaten that heart, thank you very much.
His opposite arm blindly reaches to drag a pillow from the pile to rest on top of the pair of them and begins to drag his nails across it idly instead.]
On the other hand ... I might argue the risk of pillow eating in this room is quite high.
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[ And then the meaning of his words settles in, and it's a good thing he wasn't drinking in that moment, for the way the young monarch suddenly flushes pink. ]
You're terrible. You know that?
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Am I? It is not an untrue statement. Crude, perhaps, but...
[Wrathion's chin tips upward, resting thoughtfully on his shoulder.]
You are blushing.
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[ One would think, as much as he's seen and done here in the city, he'd be less prone to it. But sometimes it appears he can still be taken by surprise.
Or the wine is starting to settle in. One of these things is true. ]
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[Which is precisely why he's done it, of course. It was a nice change from the somber state of affairs that had called him there -- and getting Anduin to blush takes the focus off of that.]
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Strange medicine, this. ]
'Charming'. You mean 'amusing', I'm sure.
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[His eyes drift closed, chin still perched on his shoulder. He is strangely at ease like this, warm and vaguely lost in the unfamiliar floating feeling. Wrathion casually brushes the pillow off of Anduin's lap, placing it under the arm still holding the wine.
He goes rather quiet afterwards. He may or may not have simply fallen asleep.]
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How far things have come. Though not without due struggle along the way.
Eventually he does move, after the wine is gone from his glass and Wrathion's breathing seems to have evened out to some degree. He's careful, shifting so that the dragon's head finds a pillow almost immediately, pausing to peer down at his sleeping expression before leaning down.
There's more left to talk about, but it can wait. Neither of them are going anywhere, literally or figuratively.
A brief kiss against his temple, full of warmth and affection, and Anduin extricates himself to go take the glasses to the kitchen. And to retrieve the bottle of wine, before he goes. ]