Not completely. But for being so the King of Stormwind, that is certainly not bad.
[He has seen what completely out of hand looks like. He is not in a hurry to see it again. But he is at least impressed that Anduin managed to get as far as he did without being dragged back by SI:7.
Then again, perhaps he hadn't managed it at all. His blacktalons were rarely far from exactly where they needed to be. He has to imagine that Shaw is at least that competent.]
Not to worry -- you still have over half a life to live. Plenty of time to be a miscreant.
[And speaking of being a miscreant, Wrathion is still undoing buttons now that the vest is out of the way, without missing a beat.]
[ The most obvious thing once the shirt is peeled away is how quickly he's healed. Most of the surface injuries are gone, bruises faded, though even the bite left behind at the curve of his shoulder couldn't stand up to the combination of healing potions and Light being poured through him. Nothing but pale skin and the usual number of scars left behind. ]
Then I couldn't have chosen a more appropriate place to be abducted to. Some deviancy is to be expected. I'd hate to be a poor guest.
[In hindsight, it is probably not a bad thing that all of Anduin's various markings have been healed away, save for those that had been there for years on end. His hands rest tentatively at the other man's sides once he's managed to open the shirt, thumbs rubbing thoughtfully over his ribs.
It is a bittersweet taste, knowing very well that they'd been abducted to a place where their indulgence might have been acceptable -- only to find that they'd been regulated to roles which prevented it. A cruel sort of irony.
There is something comforting in seeing that he had no lasting injuries, even if it didn't wipe away the knowledge of what had happened. His touch is oddly gentle.]
I'm afraid it is a bit late for that.
[Wrathion was no stranger to the thrill of doing things he ought not to be doing, no matter how bittersweet the reality was. But were they still poor, law-breaking guests if they weren't caught?]
[ 'Gentle' is not a word he'd often ascribe to the dragon. It's notable when it happens, and Anduin's gaze falls briefly to where those warm fingers graze against skin.
The hurt was still there, buried. But he could keep it there, do what needed to be done. Every hurt faded in its own time, if Wrathion was anything to learn by. ]
Perhaps so. Here I am, being a bad influence on you, for a change.
[ His own fingers lift to curl into the loose fabric of Wrathion's shirt, thumbing the hem. ]
[ Those teeth. A reminder, like those eyes, of just how thin that veneer of humanity really was. Not that what Wrathion is has or will ever frighten him, and in fact Anduin tugs him closer as his shirt shifts free to hang off of his bent elbows. ]
Well. So long as we're already breaking the rules.
[ When he leans close, it's not to take Wrathion's lips, but to brush against his temple, shoulders going lax with a sigh against his ear...and head tilted to leave his throat open.
[Wrathion does not take the invitation right away. After posturing about hating to be predictable, that would just ruin the anticipation. His arms slip back down off of his shoulders to rest instead around the other man's midsection. And, after feeling Anduin's breath graze his ear, he turns his head just enough to rest it upon his shoulder. Long enough to fix him with the same, mischievous glance in those bright red eyes.
But, as highlighted, the allure of rule-breaking is far too strong for him to play coy for more than a few seconds. His pale skin, stretched thin enough that he can spot his pulse at this distance, receives a wet kiss. The grazing of his teeth is lighter than it had been the night the shadows claimed them both, more respectful in the way he marks him at first -- and then, progressively, with more pressure until he can feel that pulse against his tongue.
It is a brief thing -- he lets go before he can break the skin, soothing the bruise he leaves behind with the press of his lips.]
[ There's no sharpness of teeth breaking skin this time, the gesture almost a tender one. It still drives a noise from him, a soft gasp as one hand lifts to thread through dark curls and clasp tight to the nape of Wrathion's neck, his pulse quickening under his tongue.
When cool air tickles the damp mark blooming under his skin, Anduin shivers with the loss and turns, seeking those lips out with his own. It feels good, having that familiar ache back where it belongs.
[As Anduin's lips find his, he allows himself to be coaxed away from his neck, though he is less gentle when redirected from his task. The hand fisted in his hair invites him to bare his teeth again, this time finding purchase in the other man's lower lip when they come to rest against his own. They drag backwards, along with the hands now seeking purchase on the king's spine beneath his bunched shirt.
This had not been his plan for today, when he came to visit. He is ill prepared, dressed in attire not nearly as form-fitting as what Anduin had chosen. As his claws quest downward, he is quickly made aware that he cannot squeeze his hands past the waistband there, for how well it hugs him.
[ A problem as easily solved as the flick of a button and tug of a zipper, but first things first.
Right now his focus is entirely on that kiss, the pinch of teeth and his own answering nip to the edge of Wrathion's mouth as he smiles against it, pressing in with a growing heat in his chest while claws trace the familiar ridges and knots across his back.
When he finally needs breath again, he only draws back far enough to finally hook his fingers into the hem of Wrathion's shirt, peeling upwards.
Fortunately it's a much less tricky prospect than getting him out of those pants. ]
[Getting the shirt off means he must let go of Anduin, a prospect he is suddenly less than pleased about. At first, he stubbornly clamps his arms at his sides so that he cannot move it -- just long enough to get the point across. After that, he reluctantly unwinds his arms so that he may finish the task of exposing his bare chest. Much like the rest of him, it still blooms heat, and the hint of his scales remain visible just below the surface of the illusion of dark skin. They are easy to feel under pressure.
He does not leave the distance between them for long, though the way his arms wrap around the other man's waist is more loose than it had been just a few moments ago.]
That was much less eventful. Perhaps I ought to take a page out of your book.
[Undoing buttons offered so much more ... je ne sais quoi.]
[ That momentary rebellion earns a raised eyebrow -- this is what he's doing now, really? -- before Anduin chuckles and finally toss the shirt aside. Once the dragon allows him to, of course. ]
Efficient, I would have said. Much less trouble than all of this...
[ Though his thoughts trail off as fingertips trace the edge of those just-visible scales. Then, a small smile ticks at the corner of his mouth. ]
[Wrathion pauses in whatever quip he was going to offer in return, following Anduin's eyes to the scales he's settled on.]
Do you? [A thoughtful hum passes his lips. He reaches to where Anduin traces, his fingers following the path to pull them to the surface.] I think you are more equipped to answer that than I.
[After all, he missed his scales all the time. But it was hardly Anduin's fault that the city was not built with dragons in mind]
I think some would call it strange. You do make a handsome human.
[ A fact he'd noticed even while infuriated at his presence. But there'd been satisfaction in seeing the illusion shatter, even for a moment. To see the truth of him just under the surface.
Now, he knows what he truly looks like. Though the circumstances of that particular reveal could have been better.
As he's done so many times before, Anduin bends his head to kiss those shining black scales as they rise into view, warm to the touch. ]
But I like seeing the real you, too. Even just glimpses like this.
I will have to file a formal complaint with the architects. Quite unkind to abduct a dragon to a city he can hard fit in.
[Anduin's opinion on the matter is the only one that matters to him, at the present. But he was inclined to agree with him on the former point as well -- there were not many humans, he thought, that would appreciate his scales the same way he was now.
His eyelids drift shut briefly, and then open again. The texture of his lips upon his bare scales was a strange thing, but not at all unwelcome. He stops just short of carding a hand through the other man's hair when he does, instead opting to run the back of his knuckles appreciatively across his cheek.]
I confess -- I am certain I have spent more time as a human than I have as a dragon. Collectively.
[A small, wry smile falls upon his expression as he considers it. He was among mortals so often, after all, doing this or that. He had not really thought much of it until that moment.]
[ That's not a surprise to hear, now that he says it. For someone so focused on hiding, guarding himself, why wouldn't he try to blend in as much as possible? Wrathion's been hiding from those who'd seek to kill or use him for their own ends for his entire life.
Had it even really been a choice, on his part, to remain this way for so long?
Anduin's eyes lift as Wrathion's knuckles drift down the edge of his face, frowning as though in consideration of something. ]
Does it have to be all or nothing? Does it feel any different when you take on some aspects, but not others?
[ It might seem like idle curiosity. It isn't, of course. ]
[Wrathion observes him in turn, shifting his weight onto his other foot as he does so. The next time his knuckles brush against his cheek, it is with the same scaled texture that he'd rested his lips against a moment ago. The sharp point of his nails are likely visible in his peripherals.]
It is usually all or nothing. But that does not mean I am incapable.
[He was not like the Aspects -- his power was great, but his strength was in his ability to blend with the mortal races. Tails and horns and other adornments did not do very much to help him with his goals.]
[ No, likely as not there was no strategic advantage to flaunting his status as a dragon.
There is, however, an immediate effect to doing so.
It's subtle, the way Anduin takes note of the different texture against his skin, the whisper of sharp claws so very close at hand. A slight part to his lips, pulse quickening and pupils swelling. But otherwise he maintains admirable calm for the sudden unexplained thrill that had just gone through him.
Eyes still on Wrathion he tilts his head, a warm kiss ghosting across the dragon's curled fingers, a soft breath exhaled against the inside of his palm. ]
[Oh. Interesting. He is almost certain he just saw...
Well.]
I suppose there is only one way to know -- if you desire to know.
[He doubts very much that many people would seek to indulge such a curiosity. He has to imagine Anduin is unique in this -- unless there were others in the city that were uniquely attracted to reptilian creatures. He hadn't really thought about it before. But he is definitely thinking about it now.
The scales grow a bit thicker in his arms -- something less like a second skin, and something closer to the armor plating her might remember from when he had been large enough to carry him in one hand. The claws of his hand stretch outward, a muscle in his hand twitching from the application of breath.]
Do you?
[Equal parts curious and cautious. He doesn't exactly want to put him ill at ease -- there were plenty of ways this could go wrong, especially given recent events.]
[ Plenty of places to stumble along the way, especially if he thought too much about why. The simplest explanation is that it's Wrathion, and he's attracted to him in any form he takes, because the form is inconsequential.
But then why does the thought send a shiver of anticipation through him?
His tongue darts briefly over his lips, before he shifts closer, hands falling to the waist of the dragon's pants. ]
Were it asked of him alone, without the accompanying body language, he might have made a stronger attempt to talk him out of it. That he did not know what he was asking for, that he might think differently once they started something and they would not know how to finish it.
Were it asked of him by someone other than Anduin, he might have scoffed.
Instead, he pauses in the stroking of his cheek to pull back just enough to reach down and grip Anduin's wrists -- not to stop him for more than a moment, but to assist him in their removal. First, he withdraws enough to discard his boots, a momentary delay. A step or two forward, and he is back within reach of him. And by the time he's undone the front of his pants and pushed them passed his thighs, he hardly resembles anything human beneath them. Armored plating covers much of his abdomen, pebbled scale running down much of his dark skin to compliment it.
Between his legs, the illusion does not quite dissipate all the way, thanks to his attempt to maintain something of a human size and shape. But where Anduin might remember something more human, a strangely and similarly textured cock hangs -- not quite erect, but not completely asleep either. For someone who is perhaps unused to the sight, it might be an intimidating thing to simply behold.
No less than the perhaps familiar scaled tail that eventually joins it behind him, lazily swaying to maintain his balance -- as if it had been there all along. The pads of his thumbs rub over the slim bones he holds between them, the only sign of his uncertainty.]
If it is not what you expected -- you need only say.
[At the same time, he is unsure if he could progress much more without risking a full transformation indoors. It would be an unfortunate end to most of his furnishings, in such case.]
[ There's so little he can compare it to. Neither fully human or dragon, or perhaps just the right combination of both.
Often he's reflected -- usually when Wrathion's colder logic surfaces on a certain matter -- how different he really is from a human, or from any mortal. But seeing him now, glistening and ridged and alien and stunning to behold, it really starts to sink in.
As a dragon, he's absolutely singular. And it is him fidgeting quietly in worry that somehow, Anduin will find him lacking. ]
...you're beautiful. You know that.
[ But he'll say it anyway, brush any doubts from his mind, as a smile dawns on his face and he tilts in to press his mouth to his with renewed enthusiasm.
He knows what he wants, now. The only question is if Wrathion will allow it. ]
[He does know that. But it is something else to hear Anduin confirm it now that he's seen at least half of what he has to offer, enough that it makes a smile spread across his face shortly before he leans in to kiss him again. If there had been any doubt left, it has quickly fled from his mind.
The kiss is returned with equal enthusiasm, though his balance is off now with the addition of a heavy tail. He is forced at least once to steady himself on the other man's shoulders before he picks up on the fact that this isn't a good way to continue this.
The wall is closer than the bed, and so now that he is certain that this is what Anduin wants, he takes the opportunity to leverage his new weight into turning them both and pressing the other man into the wall so that he at least has something to brace them against. And that tail drags along behind him, flicking back and forth with interest.]
[ His plans are briefly disrupted when Wrathion suddenly takes initiative, and his back is planted firmly against the wall. But he hardly minds it. Instead he reaches up, digs his fingers into that thick mass of dark hair to curl against where he remembered there being horns, once, nails gently scratching at his scalp as he draws him back in. ]
You're beautiful, Wrathion.
[ And he wants so, so very much to feel the new weight of him, how his inner heat warms those protective plates and overlaping scales, how the dragon might feel pressed against tender skin and tense muscle now. ]
[Wrathion has, by now, learned the advantages of moving slower and more intimately than his instincts desire. But with Anduin steering him and complimenting him like this, those lessons are swiftly forgotten under that tide of lust.
But, he takes a few moments to enjoy that kiss, pawing at Anduin's torso with those hands that only barely still represent something human. Eventually they travel south to struggle with the clasp of his pants, which he now realizes he should have attempted to open when he was a bit more dexterous. Now, with the placing and claws in the way, it is difficult to make the headway he wants.
He growls with some frustration when he discovers the barrier, groping him insistently in an attempt to get his point across while he is still kissing him. He is naked, and Anduin is not. This is unacceptable.]
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[He has seen what completely out of hand looks like. He is not in a hurry to see it again. But he is at least impressed that Anduin managed to get as far as he did without being dragged back by SI:7.
Then again, perhaps he hadn't managed it at all. His blacktalons were rarely far from exactly where they needed to be. He has to imagine that Shaw is at least that competent.]
Not to worry -- you still have over half a life to live. Plenty of time to be a miscreant.
[And speaking of being a miscreant, Wrathion is still undoing buttons now that the vest is out of the way, without missing a beat.]
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Then I couldn't have chosen a more appropriate place to be abducted to. Some deviancy is to be expected. I'd hate to be a poor guest.
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It is a bittersweet taste, knowing very well that they'd been abducted to a place where their indulgence might have been acceptable -- only to find that they'd been regulated to roles which prevented it. A cruel sort of irony.
There is something comforting in seeing that he had no lasting injuries, even if it didn't wipe away the knowledge of what had happened. His touch is oddly gentle.]
I'm afraid it is a bit late for that.
[Wrathion was no stranger to the thrill of doing things he ought not to be doing, no matter how bittersweet the reality was. But were they still poor, law-breaking guests if they weren't caught?]
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The hurt was still there, buried. But he could keep it there, do what needed to be done. Every hurt faded in its own time, if Wrathion was anything to learn by. ]
Perhaps so. Here I am, being a bad influence on you, for a change.
[ His own fingers lift to curl into the loose fabric of Wrathion's shirt, thumbing the hem. ]
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I could grow accustomed to that, perhaps.
[It was certainly proving better than the alternative. His hands move upwards slowly, brushing the shirt off of Anduin's shoulders as they go.]
If there is anything I loathe to be, it is predictable.
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Well. So long as we're already breaking the rules.
[ When he leans close, it's not to take Wrathion's lips, but to brush against his temple, shoulders going lax with a sigh against his ear...and head tilted to leave his throat open.
Another quiet invitation. ]
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But, as highlighted, the allure of rule-breaking is far too strong for him to play coy for more than a few seconds. His pale skin, stretched thin enough that he can spot his pulse at this distance, receives a wet kiss. The grazing of his teeth is lighter than it had been the night the shadows claimed them both, more respectful in the way he marks him at first -- and then, progressively, with more pressure until he can feel that pulse against his tongue.
It is a brief thing -- he lets go before he can break the skin, soothing the bruise he leaves behind with the press of his lips.]
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When cool air tickles the damp mark blooming under his skin, Anduin shivers with the loss and turns, seeking those lips out with his own. It feels good, having that familiar ache back where it belongs.
A vivid but silent rebellion. ]
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This had not been his plan for today, when he came to visit. He is ill prepared, dressed in attire not nearly as form-fitting as what Anduin had chosen. As his claws quest downward, he is quickly made aware that he cannot squeeze his hands past the waistband there, for how well it hugs him.
A problem for future Wrathion, then.]
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Right now his focus is entirely on that kiss, the pinch of teeth and his own answering nip to the edge of Wrathion's mouth as he smiles against it, pressing in with a growing heat in his chest while claws trace the familiar ridges and knots across his back.
When he finally needs breath again, he only draws back far enough to finally hook his fingers into the hem of Wrathion's shirt, peeling upwards.
Fortunately it's a much less tricky prospect than getting him out of those pants. ]
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He does not leave the distance between them for long, though the way his arms wrap around the other man's waist is more loose than it had been just a few moments ago.]
That was much less eventful. Perhaps I ought to take a page out of your book.
[Undoing buttons offered so much more ... je ne sais quoi.]
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Efficient, I would have said. Much less trouble than all of this...
[ Though his thoughts trail off as fingertips trace the edge of those just-visible scales. Then, a small smile ticks at the corner of his mouth. ]
Is it strange that I miss these?
[ Much more interesting than buttons. ]
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Do you? [A thoughtful hum passes his lips. He reaches to where Anduin traces, his fingers following the path to pull them to the surface.] I think you are more equipped to answer that than I.
[After all, he missed his scales all the time. But it was hardly Anduin's fault that the city was not built with dragons in mind]
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[ A fact he'd noticed even while infuriated at his presence. But there'd been satisfaction in seeing the illusion shatter, even for a moment. To see the truth of him just under the surface.
Now, he knows what he truly looks like. Though the circumstances of that particular reveal could have been better.
As he's done so many times before, Anduin bends his head to kiss those shining black scales as they rise into view, warm to the touch. ]
But I like seeing the real you, too. Even just glimpses like this.
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[Anduin's opinion on the matter is the only one that matters to him, at the present. But he was inclined to agree with him on the former point as well -- there were not many humans, he thought, that would appreciate his scales the same way he was now.
His eyelids drift shut briefly, and then open again. The texture of his lips upon his bare scales was a strange thing, but not at all unwelcome. He stops just short of carding a hand through the other man's hair when he does, instead opting to run the back of his knuckles appreciatively across his cheek.]
I confess -- I am certain I have spent more time as a human than I have as a dragon. Collectively.
[A small, wry smile falls upon his expression as he considers it. He was among mortals so often, after all, doing this or that. He had not really thought much of it until that moment.]
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Had it even really been a choice, on his part, to remain this way for so long?
Anduin's eyes lift as Wrathion's knuckles drift down the edge of his face, frowning as though in consideration of something. ]
Does it have to be all or nothing? Does it feel any different when you take on some aspects, but not others?
[ It might seem like idle curiosity. It isn't, of course. ]
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[Wrathion observes him in turn, shifting his weight onto his other foot as he does so. The next time his knuckles brush against his cheek, it is with the same scaled texture that he'd rested his lips against a moment ago. The sharp point of his nails are likely visible in his peripherals.]
It is usually all or nothing. But that does not mean I am incapable.
[He was not like the Aspects -- his power was great, but his strength was in his ability to blend with the mortal races. Tails and horns and other adornments did not do very much to help him with his goals.]
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There is, however, an immediate effect to doing so.
It's subtle, the way Anduin takes note of the different texture against his skin, the whisper of sharp claws so very close at hand. A slight part to his lips, pulse quickening and pupils swelling. But otherwise he maintains admirable calm for the sudden unexplained thrill that had just gone through him.
Eyes still on Wrathion he tilts his head, a warm kiss ghosting across the dragon's curled fingers, a soft breath exhaled against the inside of his palm. ]
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Well.]
I suppose there is only one way to know -- if you desire to know.
[He doubts very much that many people would seek to indulge such a curiosity. He has to imagine Anduin is unique in this -- unless there were others in the city that were uniquely attracted to reptilian creatures. He hadn't really thought about it before. But he is definitely thinking about it now.
The scales grow a bit thicker in his arms -- something less like a second skin, and something closer to the armor plating her might remember from when he had been large enough to carry him in one hand. The claws of his hand stretch outward, a muscle in his hand twitching from the application of breath.]
Do you?
[Equal parts curious and cautious. He doesn't exactly want to put him ill at ease -- there were plenty of ways this could go wrong, especially given recent events.]
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But then why does the thought send a shiver of anticipation through him?
His tongue darts briefly over his lips, before he shifts closer, hands falling to the waist of the dragon's pants. ]
Show me.
[ A request, masquerading as a quiet demand. ]
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Were it asked of him alone, without the accompanying body language, he might have made a stronger attempt to talk him out of it. That he did not know what he was asking for, that he might think differently once they started something and they would not know how to finish it.
Were it asked of him by someone other than Anduin, he might have scoffed.
Instead, he pauses in the stroking of his cheek to pull back just enough to reach down and grip Anduin's wrists -- not to stop him for more than a moment, but to assist him in their removal. First, he withdraws enough to discard his boots, a momentary delay. A step or two forward, and he is back within reach of him. And by the time he's undone the front of his pants and pushed them passed his thighs, he hardly resembles anything human beneath them. Armored plating covers much of his abdomen, pebbled scale running down much of his dark skin to compliment it.
Between his legs, the illusion does not quite dissipate all the way, thanks to his attempt to maintain something of a human size and shape. But where Anduin might remember something more human, a strangely and similarly textured cock hangs -- not quite erect, but not completely asleep either. For someone who is perhaps unused to the sight, it might be an intimidating thing to simply behold.
No less than the perhaps familiar scaled tail that eventually joins it behind him, lazily swaying to maintain his balance -- as if it had been there all along. The pads of his thumbs rub over the slim bones he holds between them, the only sign of his uncertainty.]
If it is not what you expected -- you need only say.
[At the same time, he is unsure if he could progress much more without risking a full transformation indoors. It would be an unfortunate end to most of his furnishings, in such case.]
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Often he's reflected -- usually when Wrathion's colder logic surfaces on a certain matter -- how different he really is from a human, or from any mortal. But seeing him now, glistening and ridged and alien and stunning to behold, it really starts to sink in.
As a dragon, he's absolutely singular. And it is him fidgeting quietly in worry that somehow, Anduin will find him lacking. ]
...you're beautiful. You know that.
[ But he'll say it anyway, brush any doubts from his mind, as a smile dawns on his face and he tilts in to press his mouth to his with renewed enthusiasm.
He knows what he wants, now. The only question is if Wrathion will allow it. ]
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The kiss is returned with equal enthusiasm, though his balance is off now with the addition of a heavy tail. He is forced at least once to steady himself on the other man's shoulders before he picks up on the fact that this isn't a good way to continue this.
The wall is closer than the bed, and so now that he is certain that this is what Anduin wants, he takes the opportunity to leverage his new weight into turning them both and pressing the other man into the wall so that he at least has something to brace them against. And that tail drags along behind him, flicking back and forth with interest.]
I don't tire of hearing you say it.
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[ His plans are briefly disrupted when Wrathion suddenly takes initiative, and his back is planted firmly against the wall. But he hardly minds it. Instead he reaches up, digs his fingers into that thick mass of dark hair to curl against where he remembered there being horns, once, nails gently scratching at his scalp as he draws him back in. ]
You're beautiful, Wrathion.
[ And he wants so, so very much to feel the new weight of him, how his inner heat warms those protective plates and overlaping scales, how the dragon might feel pressed against tender skin and tense muscle now. ]
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But, he takes a few moments to enjoy that kiss, pawing at Anduin's torso with those hands that only barely still represent something human. Eventually they travel south to struggle with the clasp of his pants, which he now realizes he should have attempted to open when he was a bit more dexterous. Now, with the placing and claws in the way, it is difficult to make the headway he wants.
He growls with some frustration when he discovers the barrier, groping him insistently in an attempt to get his point across while he is still kissing him. He is naked, and Anduin is not. This is unacceptable.]
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