[There is a moment, when Anduin manages to pull a fair portion of him inside of his mouth -- where the head of him brushes some low part of his mouth, while his tongue works below -- that his hips buck unexpectedly, seeking more of that same warmth and pressure. Instantly, he goes tense in an effort to keep himself still.
Titans, how embarrassing. He very nearly apologizes, but briefly hesitates when it occurs to him that Anduin may have been searching for exactly such a reaction. Still -- he cannot imagine it is particularly polite to let him choke on his cock, and he is not exactly gentle.
The scales along his thighs pull slightly taught as he makes another effort to keep himself still.]
[ The sudden jerk is unexpected, suddenly there's more of him than he was prepared for, and those blue eyes water abruptly as he draws back, coughing weakly against the back of his hand for a moment.
He. He needs to get better at that. Perhaps he ought to have practiced more, before trying this with him, but... ]
...It's alright. Just give me a moment.
[ He just needs to catch his breath, swallowing thickly and swiftly moving in to try again. A little less this time, but if Wrathion wants to move his hips, at least there's less of a risk, now.
And what he can do instead is start to move his fingers, slipping upwards from where they'd been resting at the base of his cock, to try and touch whatever his lips can't reach. ]
[Wrathion shifts slightly, glancing away while Anduin catches his breath. He cannot help but feel on display, waiting like this -- it is not necessarily a bad thing, but. Well, Anduin is the only one who has uniquely requested to see him this way, and he still isn't sure if it is offering anything unique or if it is just strange.
But then he puts his mouth back, and applies his hand and -- Oh. There it is. It takes him a moment to find that spot again, where he can dig his heels in and simply enjoy the feel of Anduin's mouth and the new addition of his hand. This time, he tries to pre-empt the instinctual movement and follows the rhythm that he starts to establish for him.
And it quickly begins to feel like a unique sort of magic as they fall in step. Wrathion's breathing turns heavy again, his scales growing warmer to the touch with each passing second.]
[ Rather that fight the impulse, he lets it become part of the motion. Wrathion cants his hips forward, muscles tensing under the gleam of textured black hide, and Anduin lets the weight of him slide forward over his tongue, damp eyelashes lowering to brush the flushed top of his cheeks.
Slow. Steady. Fingers squeezing and cheeks hollowing as he draws back, free hand smoothing over his thighs in quiet adoration.
This is what he wanted to show him. Obscene? Perhaps. But intimate as well, in ways yet unexplored for them. ]
[There is a scraping sound that breaks up the rhythm of heavy breathing, following Anduin's choice to hollow his cheeks. Later, Wrathion will perhaps apologize for the marks he leaves in the wall of the other man's apartment as his claws slowly drag downwards. He can feel something creeping up on him -- and he's done this enough now to recognize it, even coming from this angle.
He stops moving, tense in his shoulders when he forces himself to freeze. The tail behind him, lashes to one side. The hand that had been bracing on his shoulder wanders haplessly to Anduin's head, combing back blonde hair.]
Anduin, I--nrgh.
[There's some strain in his voice that comes in the form of a growl, a hint of concern. He does not want him to stop, but truthfully, he hasn't conceptualized what the end of this looks like. Of course, he has some logical ideas, but thinking about them too hard only brings him even closer to flirting with that horizon that is just barely in reach.]
[ In answer, there's a soothing touch down the outside of his thigh. He knows what it looks like, he's been to this place before, though never with him. And far be it for him to ever back down when he was this close.
Because he wants this. He wants Wrathion to come undone, to see what it looks like, to catch him when he shudders loose. And his only response to that half-voiced plea is a soft hum of acknowledgement, lifting his eyes as the untidy mess his hair has become is raked back by those sharp claws.
Claws that would never hurt him. Part of a creature who by all rights could do him harm but he knows could never bring himself to, not on purpose. Not by design. Not ever. ]
[He stays at that peak for a long time -- longer than is probably healthy, both as a result of trying to decipher what is expected of him as much as not wanting it to end. He'd been flirting with both physical and emotional intimacy more and more over the past few months, but this was different. It was spontaneous, and still carefully agreed upon, rather than something he'd been coerced into.
Hard to believe, harder to let go of.
But when he meets those bright blue eyes, the perfect swell of his lips, and feels him hum around his cock, it feels like being given permission. The deep, feral and hypnotic breathing tips over like twine being snapped. His back bows a bit more until his forehead is pressed to the wall, unaccustomed to the lack of body to hang upon as he spills over. His entire body is a powerful ripple of release -- a release that carries him to the point of feeling almost boneless, by the time it is done.
Perhaps it was a good thing that Anduin had done him the favor of using his mouth to catch him.]
[ Watching release play through Wrathion's body is in fact everything he'd hoped it would be.
Swallowing him down, Anduin keeps his eyes open and locked on the dragon as Wrathion shudders and tips inward against the wall, like his strings had all suddenly been cut. He can feel that quiver of tension shivering its way free under his fingertips, and he allows himself to feel just the smallest shred of victory for all that.
Satisfied, the young king finally closes his eyes, drawing back just enough to lap the last traces of evidence from the dragon's cock. The bitter taste lingers on the edge of his tongue as he presses his forehead to the dragon's hip, breathing deeply.
[He doesn't know what comes after that. When the weight appears at his hip, joined by the sound of Anduin breathing deeply, he becomes vaguely aware that he has arrived back inside of his body. All of his limbs feel heavy, and there is a hazy buzz in front of his forehead. A cold feeling behind his ears.
And when that all settles in, he feels another shiver tremble down his body-- like an unwelcome breeze hitting his warm scales. He is so incredibly oversensitive, enough that he swears he can feel every bead of saliva left upon his cock as Anduin rests against him.
This intimacy -- so often, he shied from it, discomforted by the expectation it often placed upon him. But right now, all he really wants to do is curl around Anduin and sleep. A pity that he could not manage his full form in the apartment. They would have kept warm much easier.
But he suspects this night would have gone very differently if that were the case. Instead, he stays pressed against the wall, his frre hand still blindly petting through Anduin's golden hair. It is the only thing he can think to do.]
Anduin. [He should say something. Something other than just his name.] That was--you have finally managed to render me speechless.
[ A gentle laugh catches warm against his scales, as Anduin shakes his head. ]
All these years, and that was all it took.
[ But he's teasing. It's plain from the look in his eyes when he shifts to stand at last, the heel of his hand swiping delicately at spit-slick, reddened lips. It's suddenly not enough to just lean into him.
That, and kneeling on the floor does his bad knee no favors.
Besides, the bed is so close at hand, and Wrathion still looks so dazed, softer around the edges despite his draconic affectations, and Anduin presses a kiss to the hollow of his throat before tugging him in that direction.
Sprawling together on the bed sounds like an excellent plan. ]
[He almost complains, when he feels Anduin start to move. But he is practically liquid and much more agreeable post-orgasm, and he is easily tugged in the direction of the bed. Were he less graceful, he might have stumbled -- it feels as all of the blood has pooled somewhere below his belly, making his limbs heavy and disagreeable.
But fortunately, the bed is not far, and he collapses into it heavily once he feels his knees hit the edge. Had the city made them any smaller, his tail would not have fit upon the bed with the rest of him -- but it is one of the few blessings they have, for the time being.
When Anduin joins him, there is little that stops Wrathion from turning over and smothering him with the entirety of his scaly body. There are no colorful quips to accompany it -- just the possessive slip of his arms around his chest, guarded and instinctual. This is always the part he skips, and even now, there's an awkwardness about him as he avoids Anduin's eyes and settles for just ... hanging onto him tightly for a moment.]
[ There's something about being engulfed in that warmth, entangled in lean limbs and feeling the fiery heat of Wrathion's core pressed against his chest and belly. It should be terrifying, pinned here under the weight of such a being, but--
He instead lets out a small, happily relieved breath it feels he's been holding onto forever. Lowers his head, nose brushing into the dark curls as his fingers lift to stroke against his scalp. Tangles one leg between his, half-hard against his hip but largely unconcerned with that in the moment.
These stolen moments are theirs, and he'll drink them in for all they are worth, pinning them into his memory with gold thread and wearing them close to his heart when they must keep apart for appearances.
That is the illusion. This is the truth, strange as it is. He can be satisfied with that. ]
[He stays like that for a few moments. The hand carding through his hair puts him to sleep for a moment and he begins to breath deeply, scale-decorated shoulders rising and falling. In his chest, a low rumble vibrates -- it isn't quite a purr, but the unmistakable sound of a completely content reptile.
It is brief, for when he shifts subconsciously to get more comfortable, he seems to also remember that he cannot safely indulge in this particular thing. Red eyes drift open reluctantly, and the rumbling sound quiets when they do.
The slow, sleepy awareness that he achieves allows him to take note of the fact that Anduin is still half-hard against him, saving him the question of whether or not he had gotten out of this what he had come in for. Wrathion adjusts how he is laying, enough to allow him to keep the tangle of their legs while he sits up to prop himself up on Anduin's chest with one arm folded over the other.
His lips are still swollen with their recent abuse along his cock, now soft to the point that it hardly stands out against the armored scale of his underbelly. The observation briefly overwhelms him with curiosity as he leans down to kiss him, tongue sliding across his lips searching to taste himself there.]
[ The soft, sleepy rumbles put a smile to his lips as he realizes what they are, vibrating quiet against his ribs. It's a much different sound than when they were younger -- and the dragon in question was considerably smaller.
Anduin doesn't sleep, but he drifts in this warm tangled contentment for a while, thinking of nothing at all but the sensations of it. The rise and fall of his chest, the softness of his hair and the smooth catch of his hide against his skin, heat against heat.
Then, Wrathion is shifting back to awareness. The rumbling stops, and Anduin's brow pinches faintly, hoping it isn't all over so soon.
But he isn't going far after all, and the small thread of tension melts away with the slow press of his lips. The blond hums quietly against his mouth, tilting into the kiss and opening to him, fingers curling to grasp tenderly at the nape of his neck to draw him in all too happily. ]
[He lingers for a long moment like that, allowing himself both the answer he sought and a small moment of further intimacy. But, perhaps unsurprisingly, it is a short lived thing. The hands at the nape of his neck keep him from pulling back too far, but he does eventually withdraw from the kiss.]
You allowed me to sleep.
[There is something chiding in his voice, but there is a gravelly quality to it that keeps him from sounding too serious or put out. In truth, he would have liked to have slept more. Sleep was still a rare commodity, some days.
[ Rather than confining, those fingers stroke coaxingly, tangling through thick curls before they taper and give way to the thicker plating of scale along his spine, broadening as they descend between his shoulders. ]
Mm. Was that wicked of me?
[ He doesn't sound very repentant either way, looking just as drowsy and content as the dragon, before boldly leaning up to press his lips to the corner of his mouth.
Far from the initial uncertainty he'd felt the first time they'd laid together like this. ]
[That gravel in his voice turns to a growl of interest when Anduin leans in to kiss him. The boldness feels organic in a way the tepidness had not.
But yes -- it might have been considered rather wicked, in the city's opinion. Wicked, and dangerous. Who didn't love flirting with danger, just a bit?]
[Even as the affection makes something in him squirm with discomfort, Anduin's complements stroke his ego far too much. He could listen to him praise him for hours -- and the moment that thought surfaces, Wrathion is packing it away again before he can think about it too much. The discomfort never quite finds purchase as a result, one canceling out the other.
The nip, however, is returned with a small shifting of himself within the tangle of limbs.]
I would not exactly call you pious, your highness.
[Certainly not anymore, at least. His tongue drags along his own upper lip in memory. One day, he would certainly have to attempt to beat Anduin at his own game -- once he figured out how to hollow his cheeks without risking the sharp points of his teeth injuring the other man.]
[ Not that it troubles him. The Light had blessedly little jurisdiction about what goes on between a man and his bedfellows, even if that man should be a priest.
No, the inner conflict that Wrathion often inspires is far removed from his faith, far enough that he can smirk at the tease and shift his thigh, rubbing slow but idly against the inside of the dragon's own. His lips meanwhile continue their travel to the edge of Wrathion's jaw, the dense scratch of his beard, slowly nosing his way up to his ear before delicately nipping at the lobe.
Then he sighs quietly, breath warm against already warm skin and scales. ]
Here I thought my willingness to go to my knees would have convinced you otherwise.
[Ah. A pity he is such an imaginative being. Anduin mentions the act of falling to his knees, and the memory of their earlier encounter suddenly warms him. His grip on the king becomes possessive, and he can feel himself stirring again -- to his own surprise.
He never bothered to spend an extended period of time with most of his partners. No, there was too much trust involved with that. If Anduin had not managed to tire him out, it was equally likely that he would have found his way back to his own apartment after he had returned the favor.
One hand plants itself firmly upon his chest as he rolls half way on top of him, like a predator pinning prey.]
I suppose that depends on who taught you to behave in such a way.
[He cannot help his curiosity, but he has a hard time believing that Anduin had learned through his instincts on the matter, even if it was likely. He was a healer after all -- who was a better match to pick up on the physical cues of pleasure?
While he ponders on whether or not to answer his mostly unasked question, Wrathion's head lowers again, dragging both the points of his teeth and his tongue along his shoulder and eventually to his neck. It is a slower, more intimate sort of gesture.]
[ Pressed back into the sheets once more by the weight of him, Anduin deliberates before deciding to hold his tongue. There will be time to talk of Jacob, and now doesn't seem like the right moment...
Never mind that he's thoroughly distracted by the scrape of teeth against skin. After all, Wrathion isn't prone to gestures like this, letting his guard down enough to enjoy the closeness of the moment. He doesn't want to interrupt them for anything when they're already this rare, this precious.
Bad enough that Jacob has started to see the bruises and bites left behind by the dragon as a challenge that needs answering, new marks left along the inside of his thigh in answer. This is not a practice that needs encouraging. ]
Is that disapproval?
[ The words come out in a lazy murmur, eyes sliding shut as he follows the trail of Wrathion's mouth by the heat of his breath, the nerve-tickling scrape of his fangs. It's easy enough to encourage him, with the slow curl of his fingers, scraping lightly against the other's scalp. ]
If you're attempting to reprimand me, I don't think it's working as intended...
[There is a heavy pause -- not necessarily due to the fact that he notes how Anduin dodges his question, but encouraged by the statement that comes after. He pulls his mouth away from the other man's skin with a soft huff out of his nose, pushing back against the (admittedly distracting) hand still tangled in his hair.]
I am capable of taking a different approach.
[His fingers curl a bit on Anduin's chest, his weight shifting to his hip. He had been under the impression that Anduin had endured more than enough punishment, recently. And, though he might never admit it out loud, he was still particularly ruffled by the entire affair that had happened just a few days ago.
And he was beginning to think he might be riled over it for some time, until he found this 'Hellboy' and worked through it himself.]
[ Lest Wrathion become mired in those dark thoughts, there's still the steady stroke of Anduin's fingers through his hair, a semi-sleepy smile on his lips. ]
I like this approach better, I think.
[ Not that he's afraid of more. Of a 'different approach', as Wrathion had so tactfully put it. But how to put that into words? How best to tell him that he trusts him to know when to listen, when to stop, when it's too much--
Without re-opening a larger issue he's not yet confronted on his own. ]
[Indeed, it is difficult to wallow too deeply when Anduin is petting him like he is, though the pause of silence suggests that he is searching for something in his answer that he does not find. He takes that moment, tracing a pattern thoughtfully on the other man's chest until he catches himself doing it, at which point he pulls back from it.
Instead, that scaled hand plants itself on the other side of Anduin for leverage, lifting himself just enough so that he hands over the other man, rather than remaining curled at his side.]
I might have thought to return the favor.
[But the way his tongue moves across his teeth beneath his upper lip, he is questioning the wisdom of it -- which is perhaps why he's yet to migrate that way. He was not as patient as Anduin was, not for most things.
Nor is he particularly enthused about needing to ask for guidance, judging by the concentrated furrow of his brow.]
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Titans, how embarrassing. He very nearly apologizes, but briefly hesitates when it occurs to him that Anduin may have been searching for exactly such a reaction. Still -- he cannot imagine it is particularly polite to let him choke on his cock, and he is not exactly gentle.
The scales along his thighs pull slightly taught as he makes another effort to keep himself still.]
Apologies.
[Though, really, he'd asked for that.]
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He. He needs to get better at that. Perhaps he ought to have practiced more, before trying this with him, but... ]
...It's alright. Just give me a moment.
[ He just needs to catch his breath, swallowing thickly and swiftly moving in to try again. A little less this time, but if Wrathion wants to move his hips, at least there's less of a risk, now.
And what he can do instead is start to move his fingers, slipping upwards from where they'd been resting at the base of his cock, to try and touch whatever his lips can't reach. ]
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But then he puts his mouth back, and applies his hand and -- Oh. There it is. It takes him a moment to find that spot again, where he can dig his heels in and simply enjoy the feel of Anduin's mouth and the new addition of his hand. This time, he tries to pre-empt the instinctual movement and follows the rhythm that he starts to establish for him.
And it quickly begins to feel like a unique sort of magic as they fall in step. Wrathion's breathing turns heavy again, his scales growing warmer to the touch with each passing second.]
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Slow. Steady. Fingers squeezing and cheeks hollowing as he draws back, free hand smoothing over his thighs in quiet adoration.
This is what he wanted to show him. Obscene? Perhaps. But intimate as well, in ways yet unexplored for them. ]
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He stops moving, tense in his shoulders when he forces himself to freeze. The tail behind him, lashes to one side. The hand that had been bracing on his shoulder wanders haplessly to Anduin's head, combing back blonde hair.]
Anduin, I--nrgh.
[There's some strain in his voice that comes in the form of a growl, a hint of concern. He does not want him to stop, but truthfully, he hasn't conceptualized what the end of this looks like. Of course, he has some logical ideas, but thinking about them too hard only brings him even closer to flirting with that horizon that is just barely in reach.]
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Because he wants this. He wants Wrathion to come undone, to see what it looks like, to catch him when he shudders loose. And his only response to that half-voiced plea is a soft hum of acknowledgement, lifting his eyes as the untidy mess his hair has become is raked back by those sharp claws.
Claws that would never hurt him. Part of a creature who by all rights could do him harm but he knows could never bring himself to, not on purpose. Not by design. Not ever. ]
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Hard to believe, harder to let go of.
But when he meets those bright blue eyes, the perfect swell of his lips, and feels him hum around his cock, it feels like being given permission. The deep, feral and hypnotic breathing tips over like twine being snapped. His back bows a bit more until his forehead is pressed to the wall, unaccustomed to the lack of body to hang upon as he spills over. His entire body is a powerful ripple of release -- a release that carries him to the point of feeling almost boneless, by the time it is done.
Perhaps it was a good thing that Anduin had done him the favor of using his mouth to catch him.]
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Swallowing him down, Anduin keeps his eyes open and locked on the dragon as Wrathion shudders and tips inward against the wall, like his strings had all suddenly been cut. He can feel that quiver of tension shivering its way free under his fingertips, and he allows himself to feel just the smallest shred of victory for all that.
Satisfied, the young king finally closes his eyes, drawing back just enough to lap the last traces of evidence from the dragon's cock. The bitter taste lingers on the edge of his tongue as he presses his forehead to the dragon's hip, breathing deeply.
Well worth it. ]
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And when that all settles in, he feels another shiver tremble down his body-- like an unwelcome breeze hitting his warm scales. He is so incredibly oversensitive, enough that he swears he can feel every bead of saliva left upon his cock as Anduin rests against him.
This intimacy -- so often, he shied from it, discomforted by the expectation it often placed upon him. But right now, all he really wants to do is curl around Anduin and sleep. A pity that he could not manage his full form in the apartment. They would have kept warm much easier.
But he suspects this night would have gone very differently if that were the case. Instead, he stays pressed against the wall, his frre hand still blindly petting through Anduin's golden hair. It is the only thing he can think to do.]
Anduin. [He should say something. Something other than just his name.] That was--you have finally managed to render me speechless.
[A feat of strength, to be certain.]
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All these years, and that was all it took.
[ But he's teasing. It's plain from the look in his eyes when he shifts to stand at last, the heel of his hand swiping delicately at spit-slick, reddened lips. It's suddenly not enough to just lean into him.
That, and kneeling on the floor does his bad knee no favors.
Besides, the bed is so close at hand, and Wrathion still looks so dazed, softer around the edges despite his draconic affectations, and Anduin presses a kiss to the hollow of his throat before tugging him in that direction.
Sprawling together on the bed sounds like an excellent plan. ]
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But fortunately, the bed is not far, and he collapses into it heavily once he feels his knees hit the edge. Had the city made them any smaller, his tail would not have fit upon the bed with the rest of him -- but it is one of the few blessings they have, for the time being.
When Anduin joins him, there is little that stops Wrathion from turning over and smothering him with the entirety of his scaly body. There are no colorful quips to accompany it -- just the possessive slip of his arms around his chest, guarded and instinctual. This is always the part he skips, and even now, there's an awkwardness about him as he avoids Anduin's eyes and settles for just ... hanging onto him tightly for a moment.]
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He instead lets out a small, happily relieved breath it feels he's been holding onto forever. Lowers his head, nose brushing into the dark curls as his fingers lift to stroke against his scalp. Tangles one leg between his, half-hard against his hip but largely unconcerned with that in the moment.
These stolen moments are theirs, and he'll drink them in for all they are worth, pinning them into his memory with gold thread and wearing them close to his heart when they must keep apart for appearances.
That is the illusion. This is the truth, strange as it is. He can be satisfied with that. ]
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It is brief, for when he shifts subconsciously to get more comfortable, he seems to also remember that he cannot safely indulge in this particular thing. Red eyes drift open reluctantly, and the rumbling sound quiets when they do.
The slow, sleepy awareness that he achieves allows him to take note of the fact that Anduin is still half-hard against him, saving him the question of whether or not he had gotten out of this what he had come in for. Wrathion adjusts how he is laying, enough to allow him to keep the tangle of their legs while he sits up to prop himself up on Anduin's chest with one arm folded over the other.
His lips are still swollen with their recent abuse along his cock, now soft to the point that it hardly stands out against the armored scale of his underbelly. The observation briefly overwhelms him with curiosity as he leans down to kiss him, tongue sliding across his lips searching to taste himself there.]
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Anduin doesn't sleep, but he drifts in this warm tangled contentment for a while, thinking of nothing at all but the sensations of it. The rise and fall of his chest, the softness of his hair and the smooth catch of his hide against his skin, heat against heat.
Then, Wrathion is shifting back to awareness. The rumbling stops, and Anduin's brow pinches faintly, hoping it isn't all over so soon.
But he isn't going far after all, and the small thread of tension melts away with the slow press of his lips. The blond hums quietly against his mouth, tilting into the kiss and opening to him, fingers curling to grasp tenderly at the nape of his neck to draw him in all too happily. ]
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You allowed me to sleep.
[There is something chiding in his voice, but there is a gravelly quality to it that keeps him from sounding too serious or put out. In truth, he would have liked to have slept more. Sleep was still a rare commodity, some days.
But they both know better than that.]
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Mm. Was that wicked of me?
[ He doesn't sound very repentant either way, looking just as drowsy and content as the dragon, before boldly leaning up to press his lips to the corner of his mouth.
Far from the initial uncertainty he'd felt the first time they'd laid together like this. ]
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[That gravel in his voice turns to a growl of interest when Anduin leans in to kiss him. The boldness feels organic in a way the tepidness had not.
But yes -- it might have been considered rather wicked, in the city's opinion. Wicked, and dangerous. Who didn't love flirting with danger, just a bit?]
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Certainly not Anduin, smiling into the kiss before nipping gently at the edge of his mouth. Light, how that growl just sinks down to his very bones. ]
Well, you are the expert in the matter.
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[Even as the affection makes something in him squirm with discomfort, Anduin's complements stroke his ego far too much. He could listen to him praise him for hours -- and the moment that thought surfaces, Wrathion is packing it away again before he can think about it too much. The discomfort never quite finds purchase as a result, one canceling out the other.
The nip, however, is returned with a small shifting of himself within the tangle of limbs.]
I would not exactly call you pious, your highness.
[Certainly not anymore, at least. His tongue drags along his own upper lip in memory. One day, he would certainly have to attempt to beat Anduin at his own game -- once he figured out how to hollow his cheeks without risking the sharp points of his teeth injuring the other man.]
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[ Not that it troubles him. The Light had blessedly little jurisdiction about what goes on between a man and his bedfellows, even if that man should be a priest.
No, the inner conflict that Wrathion often inspires is far removed from his faith, far enough that he can smirk at the tease and shift his thigh, rubbing slow but idly against the inside of the dragon's own. His lips meanwhile continue their travel to the edge of Wrathion's jaw, the dense scratch of his beard, slowly nosing his way up to his ear before delicately nipping at the lobe.
Then he sighs quietly, breath warm against already warm skin and scales. ]
Here I thought my willingness to go to my knees would have convinced you otherwise.
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He never bothered to spend an extended period of time with most of his partners. No, there was too much trust involved with that. If Anduin had not managed to tire him out, it was equally likely that he would have found his way back to his own apartment after he had returned the favor.
One hand plants itself firmly upon his chest as he rolls half way on top of him, like a predator pinning prey.]
I suppose that depends on who taught you to behave in such a way.
[He cannot help his curiosity, but he has a hard time believing that Anduin had learned through his instincts on the matter, even if it was likely. He was a healer after all -- who was a better match to pick up on the physical cues of pleasure?
While he ponders on whether or not to answer his mostly unasked question, Wrathion's head lowers again, dragging both the points of his teeth and his tongue along his shoulder and eventually to his neck. It is a slower, more intimate sort of gesture.]
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Never mind that he's thoroughly distracted by the scrape of teeth against skin. After all, Wrathion isn't prone to gestures like this, letting his guard down enough to enjoy the closeness of the moment. He doesn't want to interrupt them for anything when they're already this rare, this precious.
Bad enough that Jacob has started to see the bruises and bites left behind by the dragon as a challenge that needs answering, new marks left along the inside of his thigh in answer. This is not a practice that needs encouraging. ]
Is that disapproval?
[ The words come out in a lazy murmur, eyes sliding shut as he follows the trail of Wrathion's mouth by the heat of his breath, the nerve-tickling scrape of his fangs. It's easy enough to encourage him, with the slow curl of his fingers, scraping lightly against the other's scalp. ]
If you're attempting to reprimand me, I don't think it's working as intended...
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I am capable of taking a different approach.
[His fingers curl a bit on Anduin's chest, his weight shifting to his hip. He had been under the impression that Anduin had endured more than enough punishment, recently. And, though he might never admit it out loud, he was still particularly ruffled by the entire affair that had happened just a few days ago.
And he was beginning to think he might be riled over it for some time, until he found this 'Hellboy' and worked through it himself.]
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[ Lest Wrathion become mired in those dark thoughts, there's still the steady stroke of Anduin's fingers through his hair, a semi-sleepy smile on his lips. ]
I like this approach better, I think.
[ Not that he's afraid of more. Of a 'different approach', as Wrathion had so tactfully put it. But how to put that into words? How best to tell him that he trusts him to know when to listen, when to stop, when it's too much--
Without re-opening a larger issue he's not yet confronted on his own. ]
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Instead, that scaled hand plants itself on the other side of Anduin for leverage, lifting himself just enough so that he hands over the other man, rather than remaining curled at his side.]
I might have thought to return the favor.
[But the way his tongue moves across his teeth beneath his upper lip, he is questioning the wisdom of it -- which is perhaps why he's yet to migrate that way. He was not as patient as Anduin was, not for most things.
Nor is he particularly enthused about needing to ask for guidance, judging by the concentrated furrow of his brow.]
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