[Those glowing red eyes blink once, hard, in the brief silence that passes between them. It is the most surprise he will allow himself to show.
In truth, he had not expected it to be so easy to convince him, and it makes him suspicious when he practically trips over himself to accept. But, if this was the way of things, he could not afford to engage with that suspicion. It would spoil the act.]
Yes. And finish your tea.
[He takes the rope from the other man's hands and briefly wanders off back toward the kitchen area. One glass of tea would not be enough, particularly if Anduin had not been sleeping. He would return with a full bottle of water, and set it upon the nightstand with the rest before settling to untying some of the knots he had previously tied into the rope.]
[ The surprise doesn't go unnoticed -- he's spent too much time with him to not know what it means -- but it does go unremarked, as so many things do.
Instead Anduin simply nods, relinquishing the rope and reaching for the tea, now a little less likely to burn his tongue on the initial sip. It doesn't take long to drink it down, the spice of the ginger a welcome and familiar sharpness, reminiscent of better days. As so many of their comfort activities happen to be.
With the cup empty and Wrathion absent, he takes a moment to breathe, to attempt to relax and set aside the matters of the last few days as he begins to undress. Each button a worry he'll consider later, a responsibility he doesn't have to think of right now.
Instead, he lets them be replaced by the curiosity of what is to come, as each article is folded and set aside. He reaches for the tie at the nape of his neck, before halting and ultimately leaving it be.
Keeping his hair bound up is probably best, upon reflection. ]
[While Wrathion undoes the knots as he walks, he wanders down the hallway to extinguish some of the candles there, lowering the light in the room so that there is only the space he's chosen to be visible. Better to minimize distractions, and the idea that there are cares beyond the room -- for both of their sakes.
Each rope is carefully laid at the end of the bed once they are free of knots. Though they are all the same thickness, the lengths appear to vary -- and Wrathion has to study Anduin in his nakedness for a moment before he decides which one he will choose.]
You will tell me in no uncertain terms if I cause you discomfort. This will...take some trial and error.
[It is not a request. He is very aware that he could hurt Anduin while doing this, even if they aren't typically in the business of sharing those hurts with one another. The dragon was more accustomed to being heavy-handed than gentle, a trait that did not lend well to such a delicate and intimate act.
While he waits for Anduin to confirm, he shrugs off his robe.]
[ It's the same methodical care he would expect of Wrathion, through and through. That makes it easier to simply let him take the reins as he simply waits for instruction, skin warm in the room despite the lack of clothing, and without an iota of nerves to show for it. ]
There are words for that, as I understand.
[ Also something he's found during his initial research binge in the city. ]
[Wrathion chooses a longer rope after a moment of consideration, counting along its length and folding it over itself. He turns back around to Anduin and pauses briefly before reaching for one of his hands.
There is something oddly soft and intimate in how he lifts it to observe -- a studious furrow in his brow that would suggest he is searching for something to commit to memory, and not merely admiring how well his palm fits into his own even as he turns it over.]
Would you prefer to have your hands tied in front of you, or behind you?
[ Something unlikely to be said in the heat of the moment, the book had suggested. That suited as well as any, as neither of them wanted any reminder of Varian present for what they were about to do.
As ever, it's impossible not to notice the intense warmth that flows off of Wrathion, a reminder of the creature beneath the mortal facade. The same one he's entrusting so completely in the moment. ]
In front, if you would.
[ The less continued strain on his joints, the better, and there was a chance that keeping his hands bound behind him would upset his shoulder after a while. ]
[Wrathion's jaw shifts unpleasantly at the mention, but he offers a conciliatory nod anyway. It would serve the purpose.
Once he has measure of Anduin's temperature at rest, he pulls the rope up, offering it for support. He could just reach for the other hand and start tying, as instinct tells him. But this is meant to be a mutual act, and so he fights the urge to take complete control from him.]
Place your wrists. Make fists, turn them inward.
[And once he complies, Wrathion begins the slow process of layering the rope there, taking perhaps just a touch too much care in just how much length he leaves before he begins to loop it to reduce the other man's inability to move them.
After a moment's silence, he speaks.]
They tried to teach me some of this when I first arrived here. Naturally, I was resistant to the idea.
[ It's a strange feeling. The rope tightens and he can feel the tension holding taut, but not uncomfortably so. It feels...secure, the weight and pressure reassuring rather than alarming.
Doubtless Wrathion's care and attention do much to add to that feeling. He's seen him focused on something that interests him before, the way he cocks his head, the intensity in his eyes burning brighter than the meager flames around them. Anduin's mouth twitches softly upwards. ]
Naturally. It wasn't your idea first.
[ There, a flicker of something warm and amused beneath the exhaustion. ]
[The observation earns an equally bemused chuckle out of him, and he does not bother to deny it. How could he? It was nothing but true.]
I found the way they spoke of it to be juvenile -- speaking of the tying as if it were an art form, and not simply obscene. But I was still quite angry being torn from Azeroth.
[It is safe to say he has become open to having his opinion on this matter changed -- though it said nothing about his anger of being so far away from home. He continues to loop the rope in and out, through and outward until the double collumn tie is secure. Rather than asking Anduin to test it himself, Wrathion slips two fingers between the rope with ease, pressed against the pulse he had checked just a few moments ago.
He uses this to pull his knuckles up to his face where he gently presses his lips.]
[ The pattern the rope forms does have a certain artistry to it, he has to admit. The way the rope weaves and loops together in uniform lies almost begs to be touched, though a simple tug proves that no such thing would be possible in his current position.
Distracted for a moment, he almost starts when Wrathion tugs his hands higher, and oh. His stomach shouldn't twist itself tight with just a ghosting of his mouth, but it does, and he can feel a familiar sense of heat rushing up under his skin in response. Lucky that it's dark in here, at least.
Anduin quietly nods, lips tugging a little higher as he gives his fingers a brief, accommodating flex in demonstration.
Perhaps not. We will see if your opinion holds when I am through.
[And, as it turns out, this is the part that will require a bit of creative maneuvering. Of course, he could have made this easier upon the pair of them and tied the chest harness first -- but taking the sense of control away from Anduin had been part of the reason for this exercise, and so the hand-tying was important.
He slowly lowers the tie back at rest and takes a brief moment to reach for another set of rope, long enough for a continuous tie. And when Wrathion leans in, he does so with his usual heat.]
Lift your arms, if you please.
[When he does, the dragon leans in closer to wrap and loop the full length of the rope around the other man's torso, right at his diaphragm. It takes a few rotations to gather enough bulk to create the base of the harness, which leaves his face in abnormally close proximity to Anduin's.
[ He lifts his arms as instructed...and oh so carefully, lowers them over Wrathion's head, the ties at his wrists now resting at the nape of the dragon's neck with his bare arms resting against either shoulder.
Anduin doesn't attempt more than that. He doesn't lean in closer despite the ever-present desire to. No, he stays exactly where he is as he patiently allows Wrathion to continue to loop the rope around him, though there's a small spark of rebellious pride in his eyes just the same.
It becomes easy to focus on the rope instead of that lingering heat, after a while. The cool slither of the soft, textured material, and again that sense of constriction and restraint that almost feels akin to being held.
Well that just fits where the dragon is concerned, doesn't it? That this should be the closest thing to an embrace he should freely offer. ]
[It is impossible to avoid the small quirk of amusement in his lips when Anduin wrists his arms over his head. He allows it -- because, before too long, he won't be capable of it. Best to let him have it while it is available, seeing as it does not interfere with what he is doing.
He adjusts the placement of the rope and frowns a bit to himself as he glances down between what little space is available. And, ever the perfectionist, he decides that he does not like what he's begun.]
That won't do...
[He undoes the loop, but makes no attempt to remove himself from Anduin's imposed embrace, despite the fact that he has now begun to busy himself with refitting the bight in his hands. A moment later, he loops it around the other man's neck, and begins the process of tying four looped knots down the front of his chest.
He pauses when he reaches the bottom-most loop, a fifth knot that remains momentarily loose. Wrathion's eyes drift upwards to Anduin's just for a moment as he brings warm hands to his cock, gentle in how he maneuvers and threads him through the last knot he's made until it tucks underneath his balls.
He holds there for a few seconds, letting it sit between them until Wrathion breaks that unspoken barrier between them to press their lips together. It is an oddly romantic gesture, for him. But he cannot finish tying, in this position, and so it only lasts for a moment before he lowers himself to his knees and out from under Anduin's arm's to continue. With some patience, he will finish the knot there.]
[ Of course it has to be perfect. Wrathion would accept nothing less of himself, and Anduin doesn't tease as he undoes the work he needs to in order to proceed with the new pattern, a diamond shape that clings to his chest and stomach. When the ropes are tugged lower, there's a brief catch in his throat, but nothing more than that.
At least not until Wrathion's lips are against his.
For a moment, it feels like it might be the chink in the dam that breaks the whole structure, like it would be easy just to sink into him and let that be that. It takes all he has to hold still, with the reminding pressure of the ropes currently binding him to remind him that this is an allowance. One of the few he'll recieve.
He still returns that kiss as much as he's able to, before Wrathion ducks down out of reach to finish securing that last knot. Anduin swallows quietly, throat bobbing as that knot settles into place just beneath his balls, the pressure earning a rather singular sensation that has him stirring despite himself. He wasn't expecting the simple act of being tied up to accomplish that much, but here he is, pleasantly surprised.
The blond's teeth sink into his lower lip as he tries to remain still as possible, otherwise. ]
[Wrathion stays there longer than strictly necessary, distracted by the memory of the last time the pair of them were naked in the presence of one another. Anduin had sunk to his knees for him then, and he remembered quite vividly what he had done for him in the moments after -- it still came to him some nights unbidden, in the few dreams he still had. He did not imagine he would forget the sight or sensation very soon.
Once the knot is tied to his satisfaction, the dragon rises, pulling the remaining rope backwards and up between his cheeks. It is a small tug that serves to pull and finish all the knots he had just made.
And though Anduin cannot see his face, the pleasure is palpable in his voice when he speaks:]
Comfortable?
[So long as he does not protest with the given word, Wrathion continues, pulling out the diamonds he'd formed and threading the last of the rope though them in an effort to complete his handiwork.]
[ A small sound plucks free at that final tug, everything snug in place, apparently just as Wrathion wished. He clears his throat after with an attempted glance back at the dragon. ]
I'm not sure if that's the word I would use.
[ Even as he continues to thread the extra rope through, stretching the diamond-pattern in front, the pressure from the lack of slack increases. Each tug in one place resonates through the rest, and he cannot help but be acutely aware of that last knot most of all.
Thankfully, it's now relatively impossible to focus on literally anything else. ]
[Somewhere in the midst of all of his work, Wrathion's chin had come to rest on the other man's shoulder. He could do this part with his eyes closed if he wanted, but being this close allows for him to embrace the young king in his arms with each new pass of rope across the front of his body.
The last of it comes to secure around the bight at the back of his neck, leaving a perfect closed loop for the harness. He knows by now that blood will be flowing elsewhere more rapidly, and less to the hands he has bounded.
As such, he gently rests a hand upon Anduin's shoulder, applying pressure in a wordless request for him to lower himself to the bed.]
Just a few more.
[Though, in truth, he is not entirely certain he is going to get that far. It was impossible for him to anticipate the way adrenaline races through him with each careful tug of rope. He'd been warned by his research, of course -- but reading and feeling were quite different.
He is so easily distracted by the contrast of red on Anduin's pale and scarred skin that he finds himself tracing patterns with his eyes while he gathers another fistful of rope with the intention of applying it to his forearms.]
[ It's strange. The tighter his bonds become, the more he feels as though he can relax, as if the tension is being made up for elsewhere and is no longer strictly needed to keep going. The sensation only grows stronger as Wrathion presses in at his back, the warmth of his skin almost startling against his own for how long he's been standing here untouched otherwise.
Anduin sighs at the contact, head bowing slightly, the loose fringe of blond that frames his face falling gently over his eyes, but it doesn't matter. All he wants is to feel this, strange and unfamiliar but welcome all the same. When nudged to sit, he does so without hesitation, though the way the rope moves as he does is interesting all its own.
He's careful in how he settles himself down on the edge, before looking up questioningly. It can't be his imagination, the heat he's seeing in Wrathion's normally inscrutable expression.
Tongue darting briefly over his lips, he shakes his head. ]
...no, that's alright. I'd rather see once you're finished.
[He joins him upon the bed, crawling around until he is flush behind him again. Whatever barriers had previously existed that kept him from engaging quite so intimately in the past have fallen away -- Wrathion remains flush against the other man's back, humming some abstract tune as he continues to tie the gauntlet ladder up his forearms. Of course, he could have done this in the position they were previously in.
But presently, this is preferable, even as his lips occasionally fall to the crown of his head, or the shell of his ear.
When the gauntlet is complete, he leans back just enough to loosen the chest harness some at the junction near the back of his neck, noting that the tightness nearly prevents him from sliding his fingers beneath it to explore the slightly chaffed skin.]
[ It's such a marked change, Anduin almost laughs. They've been together a handful of times since he'd arrived in the city, but affection had always been something Wrathion seemed uncomfortable with, or barely tolerant of, eager to be done with. A far cry from the warm support at his back, or the almost idle brush of his lips.
If he'd only known this was all it took. ]
Perhaps we should have done this sooner.
[ He can't help the soft and somewhat incredulous smile that passes over his lips as he lists into the touch, the rest of the tension in his body unraveling as the ropes pull tighter. He doesn't care if it's too tight, if it rubs his skin a little red and raw in places. Discomfort is an old friend by now, and this feels good and right in ways he couldn't have possibly thought of before now.
Perhaps this is freeing for the both of them, in some way. ]
[Wrathion doesn't offer a reply to the comment immediately, instead choosing to rest his chin upon the other man's shoulder while his hands snake around to join Anduin under the knots he had just finished tying. The tightness at which they were tied doesn't quite offer him the ability to get his arms through the loops all the way, but they are wide enough to allow him to hold. He stays there in silence for a long moment, despite the fact that the other man would likely be able to feel his heart hammering against his spine.]
I was not ready.
[It is a quiet admission, in a tone that suggests he still isn't certain that he is doing the correct thing by engaging with this. But there is no room to question that he enjoys it as he tips his head forward to rest his face against the crook of his neck.]
[ There's no question. If he didn't want this or enjoy this, he wouldn't have offered. They wouldn't be this deep into it. As uncertain as he may still feel, he was willing to try, and Anduin can't help but be glad for that fact. Admittedly it's an odd thing to feel gratitude for.
But they'd never done anything by conventional means, had they?
There's a reassuring tilt of his head, bumping against Wrathion's with a tickling sweep of soft blond hair, and as much as he can move his fingers to run against the dragon's fingers, he does. ]
[The bump of his head encourages him to lift his eyes again, staring down the hallway in quiet contemplation as he feels his body begin to warm Anduin's to a level that may, perhaps, discomfort the human. He unwinds just enough to allow his skin to breath, cheek still pressed against the other man's head.
There are things he still wants to say. Things he is still figuring out exactly how to say.
As a result, the withdrawing of his hands from the rope is slower and more deliberate.]
[ The heat has him feeling a little drowsy, as the hot springs in Pandaria once did. The loss of it is immediately felt, but he doesn't try to pursue, instead nodding in answer to the question with another slow wriggle of his fingers. ]
If you're finished.
[ Whatever dwells in Wrathion's mind will come in time, or it won't. He's accepted that by now, patient to the last, but it's an unspoken relief to see even this much from him, to feel that sense of want and affection from him to remind him that this is still very much evenly felt between them. ]
[As if to confirm, Wrathion pushes himself up on his knees and moves around him, hooking his fingers into the harness to pull Anduin upright so that he does not have to struggle for balance without the use of his arms. Leading from there to the full length mirror in the corner of the room is easy -- though spotting his image within might be a little challenging in the low light.
A snap of his fingers lights a small spark, enough to illuminate the pair of them -- Anduin in the foreground, and Wrathion himself behind. The sight encourages Wrathion to rest his head back down upon him, though his free hand remains hooked in the ropework at the king's back.
It was a simple thing -- it could get more complex. He'd seen as much. But that was some of the beauty of it. As much as he might have appeared to have planned the entire evening, there was a sense of spontaneity to it.]
If only everyone could be so fortunate as I, to be blessed with such a view.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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In truth, he had not expected it to be so easy to convince him, and it makes him suspicious when he practically trips over himself to accept. But, if this was the way of things, he could not afford to engage with that suspicion. It would spoil the act.]
Yes. And finish your tea.
[He takes the rope from the other man's hands and briefly wanders off back toward the kitchen area. One glass of tea would not be enough, particularly if Anduin had not been sleeping. He would return with a full bottle of water, and set it upon the nightstand with the rest before settling to untying some of the knots he had previously tied into the rope.]
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Instead Anduin simply nods, relinquishing the rope and reaching for the tea, now a little less likely to burn his tongue on the initial sip. It doesn't take long to drink it down, the spice of the ginger a welcome and familiar sharpness, reminiscent of better days. As so many of their comfort activities happen to be.
With the cup empty and Wrathion absent, he takes a moment to breathe, to attempt to relax and set aside the matters of the last few days as he begins to undress. Each button a worry he'll consider later, a responsibility he doesn't have to think of right now.
Instead, he lets them be replaced by the curiosity of what is to come, as each article is folded and set aside. He reaches for the tie at the nape of his neck, before halting and ultimately leaving it be.
Keeping his hair bound up is probably best, upon reflection. ]
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Each rope is carefully laid at the end of the bed once they are free of knots. Though they are all the same thickness, the lengths appear to vary -- and Wrathion has to study Anduin in his nakedness for a moment before he decides which one he will choose.]
You will tell me in no uncertain terms if I cause you discomfort. This will...take some trial and error.
[It is not a request. He is very aware that he could hurt Anduin while doing this, even if they aren't typically in the business of sharing those hurts with one another. The dragon was more accustomed to being heavy-handed than gentle, a trait that did not lend well to such a delicate and intimate act.
While he waits for Anduin to confirm, he shrugs off his robe.]
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There are words for that, as I understand.
[ Also something he's found during his initial research binge in the city. ]
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[Wrathion chooses a longer rope after a moment of consideration, counting along its length and folding it over itself. He turns back around to Anduin and pauses briefly before reaching for one of his hands.
There is something oddly soft and intimate in how he lifts it to observe -- a studious furrow in his brow that would suggest he is searching for something to commit to memory, and not merely admiring how well his palm fits into his own even as he turns it over.]
Would you prefer to have your hands tied in front of you, or behind you?
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[ Something unlikely to be said in the heat of the moment, the book had suggested. That suited as well as any, as neither of them wanted any reminder of Varian present for what they were about to do.
As ever, it's impossible not to notice the intense warmth that flows off of Wrathion, a reminder of the creature beneath the mortal facade. The same one he's entrusting so completely in the moment. ]
In front, if you would.
[ The less continued strain on his joints, the better, and there was a chance that keeping his hands bound behind him would upset his shoulder after a while. ]
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Once he has measure of Anduin's temperature at rest, he pulls the rope up, offering it for support. He could just reach for the other hand and start tying, as instinct tells him. But this is meant to be a mutual act, and so he fights the urge to take complete control from him.]
Place your wrists. Make fists, turn them inward.
[And once he complies, Wrathion begins the slow process of layering the rope there, taking perhaps just a touch too much care in just how much length he leaves before he begins to loop it to reduce the other man's inability to move them.
After a moment's silence, he speaks.]
They tried to teach me some of this when I first arrived here. Naturally, I was resistant to the idea.
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Doubtless Wrathion's care and attention do much to add to that feeling. He's seen him focused on something that interests him before, the way he cocks his head, the intensity in his eyes burning brighter than the meager flames around them. Anduin's mouth twitches softly upwards. ]
Naturally. It wasn't your idea first.
[ There, a flicker of something warm and amused beneath the exhaustion. ]
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I found the way they spoke of it to be juvenile -- speaking of the tying as if it were an art form, and not simply obscene. But I was still quite angry being torn from Azeroth.
[It is safe to say he has become open to having his opinion on this matter changed -- though it said nothing about his anger of being so far away from home. He continues to loop the rope in and out, through and outward until the double collumn tie is secure. Rather than asking Anduin to test it himself, Wrathion slips two fingers between the rope with ease, pressed against the pulse he had checked just a few moments ago.
He uses this to pull his knuckles up to his face where he gently presses his lips.]
Be certain to wriggle them, every now and then.
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[ The pattern the rope forms does have a certain artistry to it, he has to admit. The way the rope weaves and loops together in uniform lies almost begs to be touched, though a simple tug proves that no such thing would be possible in his current position.
Distracted for a moment, he almost starts when Wrathion tugs his hands higher, and oh. His stomach shouldn't twist itself tight with just a ghosting of his mouth, but it does, and he can feel a familiar sense of heat rushing up under his skin in response. Lucky that it's dark in here, at least.
Anduin quietly nods, lips tugging a little higher as he gives his fingers a brief, accommodating flex in demonstration.
All fine, so far. ]
cw: rope bondage
[And, as it turns out, this is the part that will require a bit of creative maneuvering. Of course, he could have made this easier upon the pair of them and tied the chest harness first -- but taking the sense of control away from Anduin had been part of the reason for this exercise, and so the hand-tying was important.
He slowly lowers the tie back at rest and takes a brief moment to reach for another set of rope, long enough for a continuous tie. And when Wrathion leans in, he does so with his usual heat.]
Lift your arms, if you please.
[When he does, the dragon leans in closer to wrap and loop the full length of the rope around the other man's torso, right at his diaphragm. It takes a few rotations to gather enough bulk to create the base of the harness, which leaves his face in abnormally close proximity to Anduin's.
Only just out of natural reach.]
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Anduin doesn't attempt more than that. He doesn't lean in closer despite the ever-present desire to. No, he stays exactly where he is as he patiently allows Wrathion to continue to loop the rope around him, though there's a small spark of rebellious pride in his eyes just the same.
It becomes easy to focus on the rope instead of that lingering heat, after a while. The cool slither of the soft, textured material, and again that sense of constriction and restraint that almost feels akin to being held.
Well that just fits where the dragon is concerned, doesn't it? That this should be the closest thing to an embrace he should freely offer. ]
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He adjusts the placement of the rope and frowns a bit to himself as he glances down between what little space is available. And, ever the perfectionist, he decides that he does not like what he's begun.]
That won't do...
[He undoes the loop, but makes no attempt to remove himself from Anduin's imposed embrace, despite the fact that he has now begun to busy himself with refitting the bight in his hands. A moment later, he loops it around the other man's neck, and begins the process of tying four looped knots down the front of his chest.
He pauses when he reaches the bottom-most loop, a fifth knot that remains momentarily loose. Wrathion's eyes drift upwards to Anduin's just for a moment as he brings warm hands to his cock, gentle in how he maneuvers and threads him through the last knot he's made until it tucks underneath his balls.
He holds there for a few seconds, letting it sit between them until Wrathion breaks that unspoken barrier between them to press their lips together. It is an oddly romantic gesture, for him. But he cannot finish tying, in this position, and so it only lasts for a moment before he lowers himself to his knees and out from under Anduin's arm's to continue. With some patience, he will finish the knot there.]
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At least not until Wrathion's lips are against his.
For a moment, it feels like it might be the chink in the dam that breaks the whole structure, like it would be easy just to sink into him and let that be that. It takes all he has to hold still, with the reminding pressure of the ropes currently binding him to remind him that this is an allowance. One of the few he'll recieve.
He still returns that kiss as much as he's able to, before Wrathion ducks down out of reach to finish securing that last knot. Anduin swallows quietly, throat bobbing as that knot settles into place just beneath his balls, the pressure earning a rather singular sensation that has him stirring despite himself. He wasn't expecting the simple act of being tied up to accomplish that much, but here he is, pleasantly surprised.
The blond's teeth sink into his lower lip as he tries to remain still as possible, otherwise. ]
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Once the knot is tied to his satisfaction, the dragon rises, pulling the remaining rope backwards and up between his cheeks. It is a small tug that serves to pull and finish all the knots he had just made.
And though Anduin cannot see his face, the pleasure is palpable in his voice when he speaks:]
Comfortable?
[So long as he does not protest with the given word, Wrathion continues, pulling out the diamonds he'd formed and threading the last of the rope though them in an effort to complete his handiwork.]
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[ A small sound plucks free at that final tug, everything snug in place, apparently just as Wrathion wished. He clears his throat after with an attempted glance back at the dragon. ]
I'm not sure if that's the word I would use.
[ Even as he continues to thread the extra rope through, stretching the diamond-pattern in front, the pressure from the lack of slack increases. Each tug in one place resonates through the rest, and he cannot help but be acutely aware of that last knot most of all.
Thankfully, it's now relatively impossible to focus on literally anything else. ]
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The last of it comes to secure around the bight at the back of his neck, leaving a perfect closed loop for the harness. He knows by now that blood will be flowing elsewhere more rapidly, and less to the hands he has bounded.
As such, he gently rests a hand upon Anduin's shoulder, applying pressure in a wordless request for him to lower himself to the bed.]
Just a few more.
[Though, in truth, he is not entirely certain he is going to get that far. It was impossible for him to anticipate the way adrenaline races through him with each careful tug of rope. He'd been warned by his research, of course -- but reading and feeling were quite different.
He is so easily distracted by the contrast of red on Anduin's pale and scarred skin that he finds himself tracing patterns with his eyes while he gathers another fistful of rope with the intention of applying it to his forearms.]
Unless you would rather see yourself now.
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Anduin sighs at the contact, head bowing slightly, the loose fringe of blond that frames his face falling gently over his eyes, but it doesn't matter. All he wants is to feel this, strange and unfamiliar but welcome all the same. When nudged to sit, he does so without hesitation, though the way the rope moves as he does is interesting all its own.
He's careful in how he settles himself down on the edge, before looking up questioningly. It can't be his imagination, the heat he's seeing in Wrathion's normally inscrutable expression.
Tongue darting briefly over his lips, he shakes his head. ]
...no, that's alright. I'd rather see once you're finished.
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[He joins him upon the bed, crawling around until he is flush behind him again. Whatever barriers had previously existed that kept him from engaging quite so intimately in the past have fallen away -- Wrathion remains flush against the other man's back, humming some abstract tune as he continues to tie the gauntlet ladder up his forearms. Of course, he could have done this in the position they were previously in.
But presently, this is preferable, even as his lips occasionally fall to the crown of his head, or the shell of his ear.
When the gauntlet is complete, he leans back just enough to loosen the chest harness some at the junction near the back of his neck, noting that the tightness nearly prevents him from sliding his fingers beneath it to explore the slightly chaffed skin.]
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If he'd only known this was all it took. ]
Perhaps we should have done this sooner.
[ He can't help the soft and somewhat incredulous smile that passes over his lips as he lists into the touch, the rest of the tension in his body unraveling as the ropes pull tighter. He doesn't care if it's too tight, if it rubs his skin a little red and raw in places. Discomfort is an old friend by now, and this feels good and right in ways he couldn't have possibly thought of before now.
Perhaps this is freeing for the both of them, in some way. ]
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I was not ready.
[It is a quiet admission, in a tone that suggests he still isn't certain that he is doing the correct thing by engaging with this. But there is no room to question that he enjoys it as he tips his head forward to rest his face against the crook of his neck.]
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But they'd never done anything by conventional means, had they?
There's a reassuring tilt of his head, bumping against Wrathion's with a tickling sweep of soft blond hair, and as much as he can move his fingers to run against the dragon's fingers, he does. ]
I'm here when you are.
[ Whatever form that takes, for them. ]
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[The bump of his head encourages him to lift his eyes again, staring down the hallway in quiet contemplation as he feels his body begin to warm Anduin's to a level that may, perhaps, discomfort the human. He unwinds just enough to allow his skin to breath, cheek still pressed against the other man's head.
There are things he still wants to say. Things he is still figuring out exactly how to say.
As a result, the withdrawing of his hands from the rope is slower and more deliberate.]
Would you like to see?
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If you're finished.
[ Whatever dwells in Wrathion's mind will come in time, or it won't. He's accepted that by now, patient to the last, but it's an unspoken relief to see even this much from him, to feel that sense of want and affection from him to remind him that this is still very much evenly felt between them. ]
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A snap of his fingers lights a small spark, enough to illuminate the pair of them -- Anduin in the foreground, and Wrathion himself behind. The sight encourages Wrathion to rest his head back down upon him, though his free hand remains hooked in the ropework at the king's back.
It was a simple thing -- it could get more complex. He'd seen as much. But that was some of the beauty of it. As much as he might have appeared to have planned the entire evening, there was a sense of spontaneity to it.]
If only everyone could be so fortunate as I, to be blessed with such a view.
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