westwhere | [ CLOSED ] Twisting, constricted

Wrathion is right. Anduin knows that he's right. That doesn't make him feel any better about it, though. It doesn't stop the sensation that he shouldn't be doing more to help these people.

Wrathion had warned him off of such things once before. This place is not Stormwind. He is not responsible for its people nor the things that happen here. He cannot hold himself to such a standard, not with the same expectations he might have had back home.

Anduin turns in Wrathion's arms after a long moment, allowing himself to burrow into the warmth of the blanket that Wrathion has wrapped around them. Letting himself take comfort in the warmth of Wrathion's embrace. He can't help but feel at least a little guilty for it. Wrathion is the one who has been on the run these past few days, not him. But he appreciates the comfort that his companion is offering nevertheless. He can feel himself starting to become overwhelmed by it all, and he just needs... This. Wrathion.

"I promise," he says, softly. The words half-mumbled into Wrathion's chest. "I promise to be careful, I just. I can't just sit back and do nothing, Wrathion, I can't. For them. For you. I could never live with myself if I -- didn't at least try..." Try what, he cannot say for certain, but nevertheless...

Wrathion loosens his grip to let Anduin turn in his arms, tightens it again as the priest settles facing him.

"Of course," he murmurs, "I understand. I do."

He shuffles Anduin more comfortably in his lap, turns his face into blond hair once more and absorbs the closeness.

"But we have survived worse than this."

So they'll make it. They have to. There's simply no other acceptable outcome.

It's true, they have survived worse than even their present circumstances. The Beastmaster may be an imposing figure, but they have both lived through invasions of demons, constructs of the Old Gods. Anduin has fought in battle before, he -- should not feel this intimidated. Overwhelmed.

Anduin takes a long moment to simply allow himself to be held by Wrathion. To rest his head against Wrathion's chest and soak in his warmth, his quiet strength.

"We have," he agrees, at last. "We have come through so much and -- and more. We are here at long last and I..." Anduin presses his eyes shut for a long moment, wetting his lips as he struggles to put his thoughts to words. "It has been. Some time now since I have wanted for something like this. Perhaps. It is that which frightens me."

Wanting for it, when he knows that there is a real chance they could lose it all. It's making him feel desperate and desperation doesn't always lead to the best of choices made, historically speaking.

Wanted.

Wrathion hadn't ever imagined a world where he'd be... wanted. Where Anduin Wrynn of all people would want for him. It makes heat flush through him, makes his stomach muscles tighten as he thinks about it.

His leans back and releases his hands from Anduin, snags off his gloves then wraps one arm back around him -- uses the fingers of his other hand to gently tilt Anduin's face back up.

"You do not have to want for something you already have."

Anduin isn't certain what Wrathion is doing at first, pulling back and releasing him. Is he about to tell him he should go back to the village? Not now, not yet, he isn't ready -- not when he's feeling this fragile.

But Wrathion's touch quickly returns, his hands warmer now without the barrier of Wrathion's leather gloves between them. When the dragon reaches for his face, Anduin leans into the touch, letting him tilt his chin up to meet his eyes, his expression softening as Wrathion speaks.

Something you already have.

Anduin reaches out to place a hand flat on his companion's chest.

"Perhaps I do not," he agrees. "But I fear rather the opposite is true." He flashes Wrathion the barest of smiles. "Now that I know I can have you, I do not want to let you go. I just..." Anduin's eyes fall slightly. "I am frightened for you, Wrathion. I am trying, but. I don't know what to do."

Frightened for him.

Wrathion leans in enough to touch their foreheads together, hand sliding down from Anduin's face to loop back around him.

His chest aches, heart racing uncomfortably fast.

"If either of us knew what to do, we'd be doing it. The both of us are putting all we have into surviving, and I think we can consider ourselves suitably motivated. The last thing I want to do is lose even a minute of the time I have with you."

After all, one way or another he knows that time will end.

Anduin tips his head forward against Wrathion's, squeezing his eyes shut as Wrathion's arms loop back around him. After a moment, he moves to wrap his arms around Wrathion in return.

"Nor do I," he says. He turns his head to bury his face in Wrathion's shoulder, taking in a deep and shuddering breath and letting it out slowly.

"I know that it would do neither of us any good for me to stay here out here with you," he points out. "It would certainly make me feel a lot better, though." He sighs softly. "I am sorry. I don't mean to put this on you, when you are the one who have to go through the worst of these troubles."

Wrathion lets out a low rumble of pleasure as Anduin loops his arms around him, as he leans his face into his shoulder and relaxes into his arms.

"You help me more there," he assures Anduin. "You are my eyes and ears in the village, what the Beastmaster is doing. What the plan is with the Huntress. Who is doing what. People leaving and arriving, Hok-Shinn activities, the two other villages -- all of this is outside of my reach now."

He reaches for Anduin's hair, gently slips it loose from its tie and begins running his fingers through it slowly. An attempt to soothe him the way he himself was soothed, with gentle repetitive motions on top of the warmth of being tucked into his arms.

"Not that I might the company, quite the opposite. It isn't every day I get to say I had the High King of the Alliance sitting in my lap."

Anduin lets out the breath of a laugh at that, turning his head into the touch, the feeling of Wrathion's fingers running through his hair. It does make him feel better. Wrathion's gentle words, his gentle touch. Sitting in his lap, being held by him.

"Well," Anduin replies, "it isn't everyone that gets to say they've had the honor of such a thing either."

He pulls back just enough to look Wrathion in the eyes, offering him a soft smile and reaching out to smooth Wrathion's own hair back from his face in return.

"Your eyes and ears in the village," he echoes, considering the words. "I suppose I could take a page out of Mathias Shaw's book and collect intelligence for you. It does feel a little more exciting if I consider it as some sort of an assignment, rather than -- the alternative."

"Perhaps you'll discover a way to stop the Beastmaster, or to protect me from his influence. I think that would be a very important assignment."

Wrathion smiles, leaning his face into the hand pushing his hair back and rubbing against it affectionately.

"Do not doubt yourself, Anduin. Everything you do has value to me, even just... being here."

Keeping him company. Offering him comfort. That has immense value, even if it may not seem to. Anduin braving the dangers of the forest to bring him small offerings of food is a highlight in an otherwise dark time.

Anduin lowers his eyes bashfully, though it pleases him to hear Wrathion's reassurance. Everything you do has value to me.

It isn't as though Anduin had thought otherwise. But it is different to hear such things said aloud. To have Wrathion tell him such things so directly. To understand just how much faith this man really does have in him. It makes a difference -- it matters.

"I am grateful that you think so," Anduin says, raising his eyes again to meet Wrathion's once more. "That you believe in me. I understand that I might not necessarily be everyone's first choice of a hero, but." He moves his hand through Wrathion's hair to cup the side of his face. "I -- would like to be that for you. To keep you safe." His mouth twists wryly. "Well. As much as I can, given the circumstances."

Anduin's smiles are always so warm, full of affection.

It's agony not to immediately mimic the gesture, cupping his face in turn, but Wrathion feels his own clumsiness like a pair of iron weights. He is inexperienced in deploying these motions gracefully, uncertain where the boundaries of this shared intimacy are.

"Naturally black dragons need very little protection," he says, and this is just talking for the sake of talking now. Filling space. Anduin's hand is still touching him and Wrathion presses into it, revels in the contact of fingers against his skin. "However if we were to require it, a priest of the Light is a useful champion to have."

Edited (space) 2022-05-04 23:13 (UTC)

Anduin brushes his fingers back and forth against the skin of Wrathion's cheek, simply meeting Wrathion's eyes for a long moment as he considers this. Considers him.

Black dragons are large and impressive creatures. He has seen that first-hand himself today, meeting Wrathion's true form face-to-face, made all the more impressive knowing that he is still young, that he still has much more growing left to do. But he knows just as impressive as they are, they are not invincible. The skin of a black dragon's hide may boast tough scales, but claws or swords will still penetrate them, if their edges are sharp enough.

He has seen evidence of that today first-hand as well -- though it is gone now. Angry tears made whole by the healing touch of the Holy Light. Just because the wounds are gone now, however, does not mean they did not happen.

"I will do my best to see that you stay in one piece," he reassures, perhaps more solemnly than he had intended to.

Wrathion blinks at that, fidgets with the blankets he's keeping tucked around Anduin and presses his tongue against his teeth as he thinks.

His thoughts are conflicted.

It feels as if Anduin has more... experience in this than him, in casual intimacy at the very least. Is it more than that? Does he want to know? He feels like he doesn't, it stirs an ember of jealousy in him, but equally he somehow wants to know anyway for a datapoint. To know what he is comparing himself to.

He wishes he, perhaps, was better at this. Could be more confident and easy with his affections. Yet equally he wishes that, perhaps, Anduin was just as clumsy as he was. That they could walk this path of learning together.

That might be foolish. Perhaps it would be better to just educate himself and come back to this, so Anduin doesn't have to deal with his clumsiness.

Yet how would he? With what resources?

How long, he wonders, until Anduin gets tired of him? Tired of the trouble he attracts, tired of how slowly he gains allies compared to how quickly he gains enemies? Surely he has to compensate for that somehow?

He swallows, turns his face more into Anduin's hand.

"Anduin," he murmurs, "the only thing I truly want is -- just to be with you."

Wrathion appreciates promises of help, of safety, protection. He does, he does of course. But more important is just that Anduin is here, that he's here with him in this cave checking on him and keeping him company.

Anduin's expression softens again at Wrathion's words. At the way he turns his face into his touch, and the vulnerability in both these things. At the fact that Wrathion is allowing himself to be this vulnerable, for him.

He understands that it is not easy, nor likely all that comfortable yet, for Wrathion to settle into such a thing, even with him. Anduin recognizes that from a young age -- younger than he first had realized -- Wrathion had had to guard himself from the world, for his own protection. That even here and now there are those that would use him for their own means. But to lower that guard, to place his trust in Anduin's hands... It is a gift that he treasures more than he can say.

Anduin shifts himself a little in Wrathion's lap, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on Wrathion's forehead.

"For as long as I am able," he replies, softly. Meaning every word.

Wrathion feels his heart race at the touch of soft lips to his forehead, even if it is gentle and brief. He studies Anduin's face, eyes wide, hands gripping handfuls of his thin blanket and holding it tighter around them both.

There's a long pause, a rush of adrenaline making Wrathion feel unsteady, then he leans forward -- hesitates again briefly before clumsily catching Anduin's lips with his own.

He's not sure he's getting this quite right, his lips are tingling and it doesn't quite feel worthy of some lengthy paragraph long description in a romance novel, but some things you have to learn to perfect by doing them repeatedly. This may be one of those things.

Wrathion's kiss -- kisses really, since it can be said of both of them thus far -- is sweet and unexpected. Anduin can tell that he is not quite certain of what he is doing, but making a valiant attempt to carry on as if it were not so. Anduin had seen the look in his eyes, right before he had leaned in for that kiss after all. The thought of it makes him smile against his companion's lips, because the idea of it is just so... Wrathion.

Softly, he strokes his fingers against the skin of Wrathion's cheek, before leaning into the kiss himself. Gently, so as to not overwhelm the other, but then again -- well, he has wanted for this for quite a long time now. And while their previous kiss had been lovely, Anduin knew in the back of his mind that it had potentially been a farewell. It was hard to enjoy a thing like that, even for a first kiss.

Certainly, this is already a lot to process.

The touch to his face, the way Anduin leans into the kiss, the fierce mix of anxiety and desire flooding through him. It's a heady recipe, and he feels dizzy with it.

He's not entirely sure where he's going with this, but doesn't really want to stop.

Except he will need to breathe. Breathing feels important.

Wrathion pulls back just enough to gulp for air, leaning his face to rub against Anduin's hand enthusiastically.

His arms cinch tighter around the man, as if to keep him firmly in place.

"I realise this is not an... ideal setting."

It is not romantic, nor comfortable. Yet still, Wrathion cannot help but enjoy being able to have Anduin to himself for a moment.

Anduin huffs out a breath of a laugh in response to Wrathion's observation, pulling back just enough to cast a glance around Wrathion's cave as he does.

"Hiding out with you in an abandoned cave while you are on the run from an undead lord and his legion of creatures?" Anduin turns back to wrinkle his nose at Wrathion slightly. "There are certainly other scenarios I would much find myself together with you in. But it is as you have said."

He tilts his head at the other, offering him a soft smile as he continues to say, "What matters most just now is that I am here, together, with you."

He strokes his fingers against Wrathion's face in return to the rubbing that Wrathion is doing, before he adds, the corners of his mouth flicking up slightly, "Besides. I am quite comfortable here, just now."

Sitting in Wrathion's lap, as he is.

Wrathion's lips twitch upward into a wry smirk, despite the anxiety still rattling through him.

"Enjoying your seat?" he prompts, and shifts his grip to hold the blankets in place with one hand. The other lifts to mimic the gesture Anduin is offering, a gently stroke of fingers along the man's face. "I'm enjoying having you in it. We rarely are as alone as this."

Not even someone one room over, no roaming ghosts, no rebellion lurking in the streets. There may be dangerous creatures patrolling the outside, but just here in this cave it is only the two of them and for the moment the rest of their party are far away. There is a risk of interruption, of course, but the people who know this location are small in number.

"Perhaps I am, a little," Anduin replies, turning his face into Wrathion's hand and mimicking Wrathion's own gesture of rubbing his cheek into the touch. His smile broadens again. "Perhaps more than a little," he amends.

Wrathion is right, after all. They are so rarely able to catch any time to themselves, such as it is. Even here, in this strange new land. They had been alone together in Taravast, perhaps, but that had hardly been ideal -- what with the pair of them still struggling with their own personal situation. And then they had been traveling with the group from then on. Through Ellethia, at the lighthouse, and now here in Ke-Waihu with their assigned families. And then there had been the curses, and what with everything else...

"This is nice," he agrees, moving his free hand from where he has braced it on Wrathion's shoulder to trail -- somewhat more daringly -- down the lapel of his jacket. "I could perhaps do without the need for you to go into hiding in such a manner, but. Finding some times to ourselves... There is something to be said, for that."

Wrathion gives a slow blink of agreement, sliding his hand to comb through Anduin's hair once more.

"I prefer not to share," he admits, and his fingers slide to rub at the base of Anduin's skull gently. "Although I understand you are a man of the people."

Anduin gives much of himself regularly, all Wrathion wants is some aspects to be... private. Something just for them. He leans to press their foreheads together again, enjoying the closeness.

Anduin's head tips forward to meet Wrathion's, his eyes sliding shut as he does. He lets out a soft hum of pleasure, in response to the contact and the fingers in his hair, sliding gently against his scalp. It is not often he has had someone stroke his hair in such a way, and the touch feels nice. Very nice.

"I do not mean to make it a competition," he replies, gently. "While it is true that the welfare of the people is important to me... So are you."

Anduin slides his fingers from the lapels of Wrathion's jacket, moving them to rest just on his chest, above the solid beating of his companion's heart.

"You have my attention now," he points out, with the curl of a smile.

"So I do."

And very pleasing it is, too. Wrathion's heart pounds quickly under Anduin's touch, under the focused attention he offers.

Even just this much contact is... immensely pleasurable. He's so unused to being touched, held, that just being with Anduin like this is a rush of emotion he's not quite sure how to handle.

He thinks about dropping his hands to open his jacket, but one of them is holding the blanket tight around them both. The blanket feels important, a protective shield.

Trying to achieve both, Wrathion lets go of Anduin's hair and squirms that hand down to begun undoing the buttons on his jacket one-handed. It's a slow process.

It takes a moment for Anduin to understand exactly what Wrathion is trying to get at, as he moves his hand away. He is still not entirely certain whether he is being too forward with his companion or not, but. Wrathion rubbing his face into his touch had been encouraging and then this now, the slow removal of his jacket… Another positive sign.

Anduin is charmed by the way that Wrathion is intent on keeping the blanket firmly wrapped around the pair of them. Keeping him warm and safe here, a familiar comfort in this otherwise less than comfortable environment. He would imagine that it’s making Wrathion’s buttons rather difficult one-handed, however.

"Let me…?" he asks, sitting back a bit and tugging his gloves off before moving his fingers to join Wrathion’s. Ever so gently, Anduin slides his fingers in between Wrathion’s and —perhaps with a bit more fumbling than he might otherwise have done, given no small amount of nerves on Anduin’s part— undoes the next button for him. He pauses in his motions as he waits for further permissions, his pale blue eyes dark and searching in the dim light of the cave.

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