westwhere | [ CLOSED ] Twisting, constricted

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.

Wrathion freezes as Anduin sits back and pulls his gloves off, moves his hands out of the way and watches intently as Anduin begins to undo his buttons.

It feels... intimate.

Which is silly, they lay curled together in bed not many days before. How is Anduin unbuttoning his jacket more intimate than that?

Yet somehow, it is.

He wonders if he should help by trying to unpack the sash tied around his waist, but decides after a moment that would be worse than the buttons one-handed. Instead, he moves both hands back to holding the blanket comfortably around them.

"Yes, of course," he manages, and tries to persuade his heartrate to steady itself. He feels... warm, and warmth is not normally an issue for him. Why is he warm suddenly? He supposes it's useful, in that sense, that he's already removing his jacket.

Anduin offers his companion a soft, hesitant smile. It is not as though he has done this much before -- having far more experience with other people undressing him than the other way around. In the professional sense, that is. Being the king, having servants helping him on and off with fancy dress, his armor...

This is not like that, though. This is intimate, and while it may only be Wrathion's jacket for now... Anduin has certainly imagined undressing him completely. It's difficult not to imagine it now, as he allows himself to continue down the next button, and then the next, until he will need to do something about that tied belt if he intends to have it fully removed.

He flicks his eyes up to meet Wrathion's, fingers hesitating on the knot. He studies his face for the briefest of moments, making certain he does not see any fear or uncertainty there, before he starts picking at the tie. It isn't exactly easy, given his position in Wrathion's lap, but he is where he is and he isn't moving.

"This jacket is needlessly complicated," Anduin muses after a moment, continuing to struggle with the knot of the sash.

It falls open, the last button giving way easily afterwards, and Wrathion realises if he wanted it off he'd still have to let go of the blanket.

"It fastens in the normal way," he protests, and shifts one hand from clasping the blankets in place to run over Anduin's own jacket thoughtfully. What if he did the same for Anduin? Is that too forward? He has no idea, but the concept is... pleasant. They could press together more comfortably. His eyes flit up to Anduin's face, trying to read what the man himself wants. Will he be cold if Anduin removes layers from him? Or will the proximity to Wrathion's own warmth keep him comfortable?

Anduin supposes that Wrathion is right, that the issue is more with his own experience than the jacket itself. Regardless, he does manage to get all the buttons undone -- which leaves the pair of them with a larger question of, where to now?

He glances down to catch the movement of Wrathion's hand against the front of his own, raising his gaze to meet Wrathion's in return. Oh. Well, it might be somewhat cool in the cave itself, but they do have the blanket and besides that. Wrathion is his own source of heat in and of himself.

Anduin offers his companion an encouraging smile.

"Please," he says, softly.

Well, that's certainly encouragement. He does feel... encouraged. Wrathion shifts to clutch the blanket more firmly and begins to make a one-handed attempt to undo Anduin's buttons. It's slow progress, but oddly that seems to... add to it. To build anticipation.

Wrathion is not sure what, exactly, he is anticipating -- not sure what this is all building to but it's... enjoyable. He likes the tease of it, likes the way Anduin smiles at him.

By the time Wrathion is at the third button he's gotten into the rhythm of how to do this one handed, but his impatience is also starting to set in. He makes a soft sound of frustration as he undoes the fourth, and grumbles as he eyes the vest underneath.

"You always dress as if you're attending a formal event."

In truth, Anduin is not entirely certain of where this is going either, but he is enjoying it himself as well. This quiet moment between the pair of them, where they can just take their time and explore together.

He flashes Wrathion a smile himself, in response to the tease. He isn't wrong, necessarily. As much as he had prodded Wrathion on his choice in attire, Anduin's own clothing is hardly simple.

He tilts his head at Wrathion, in what might possibly be considered a challenge.

"Usually," he replies, wryly, "I am."

Wrathion's eyes lift from Anduin's vest to meet the pale, icy blue of the priest's own. He fumbles open the vest buttons one handed, then eases that hand underneath it, seeking to press at Anduin's lower back through the thin layer of his shirt.

"You needn't dress up on my account," he murmurs, "although, of course, I can appreciate the result -- buttons aside."

Anduin does look good, even if shedding all those layers is a slow and frustrating process.

"Buttons aside," Anduin repeats, amused. Anduin has not had a lot of time to acquire too many more outfits -- for the most part he has only been adding the odd piece here and there to the court attire he had arrived in. This does mean that he winds up looking more formal than not, but. It is also as much habit as anything else. Clothing can be an armor as much as an ornament.

"It suits me," he declares, after a moment, leaning into the press of Wrathion's warm hand against his back -- only the fine linen of his shirt now separating Wrathion's hand and his skin. "Just as your attire suits you," he adds, tilting his head to the side with a smile.

You know. The whole open shirt bit. Anduin's just saying, he approves.

He swallows, eyes still locked on Anduin.

His chest aches, and he feels dizzy with some whirl of emotion. It's too much, too strong, and he should distance himself from it until he better understands it --

Yet he can't. It's heady, addictive this way that Anduin makes him feel. He wants more of it.

Wrathion's fingers gently bunch up in the back of Anduin's shirt, begin to carefully pull at it to untuck it then slide underneath to press directly against the small of his back.

"I'm glad you approve," he whispers.

He doesn't know why he's whispering. It feels right, somehow. More intimate, private.

Anduin swallows thickly as he feels Wrathion pull the back of his shirt out from where he had it tucked into his trousers, as he feels Wrathion's large, warm hand settle on his back. He can feel his heartbeat picking up at the touch of skin on skin, the rough whisper of Wrathion's voice, and wonders if Wrathion can sense it, being inherently non-human as he is.

He wonders, distantly, whether he should be reciprocating this gentle exploration. As it is, he's fastened his hands on Wrathion's shoulders -- as much to keep himself steady as to keep himself safe. He is sitting on Wrathion's lap, after all, and while he's enjoying this, he's not quite certain exactly where Wrathion would like for it to lead. He wouldn't like to give the wrong impression if he were to... Start enjoying it a little too much.

He flushes, wondering if such a thing may be inevitable, regardless.

"I do," he replies, pitching his voice equally as soft. Changing to move a hand to place it just there, in the center of his chest, the skin already exposed as his shirt and jacket never manage to cover the spot. "What was it you said about low-cut shirts drawing the attention? It does that."

"Yours is the only attention I desire."

Wrathion lets his fingers rub gentle circles into the small of Anduin's back, eyes half-lidding as he shuffles to press their bodies more fully together -- to bury his face into Anduin's neck.

His scent invades the dragons senses, and he lets out a low rumble of pleasure as warmth coils in his body.

"I'm glad you are here," he murmurs, "with me."

Anduin can't put an exact word on the way that it makes him feel to hear that. Yours is the only attention I desire. It makes him feel good though, in a possessive sort of way that should make him feel uncomfortable. It only makes him happy though, to know that Wrathion should desire his affections as much as he has desired Wrathion's in return. This handsome man, who really could have anyone he wanted, if he liked...

He turns his face into Wrathion's hair, burying his face in his curls and trying to remind himself to keep breathing -- that this is real.

"Of course I am," Anduin replies, lifting his free hand to run through Wrathion's hair. "I am right where I want to be."

The hand smoothing through his hair makes Wrathion's rumble of contentment redouble, a pleasurable tingle crawling over his skull.

"As am I," he answers. That's probably obvious, given his previous statements. He's starting to talk nonsense, why is that? He should be more -- more charming, articulate. Tongue running over his teeth, Wrathion pulls back and reaches to smooth back Anduin's hair. Some primal urge shudders under his skin, and he leans in to gently press a kiss to Anduin's neck, to a small patch of shoulder he can just about reach.

He's never... felt quite like this before, this focused interest in Anduin. The distracting flood of thoughts associated with him, making it hard to consider anything else.

Anduin's breath catches slightly as Wrathion dips forward to kiss at his neck, his head tipping back unconsciously to give his companion better access.

Anduin's fingers tighten despite himself where he's tangled them in Wrathion's curls. It feels good. The warm press of Wrathion's lips. The slight scratching of his beard. Fingers, gently stroking through his hair...

Anduin has been doing his best to keep a fairly tight grip on his reactions, but that grip is slipping further and further, with each brush of Wrathion's fingers -- and now his lips.

"Wrathion..." he murmurs, shifting in his lap to press himself ever-so-slightly closer.

Wrathion draws back at the sound of his name, eyes unfocused as he studies Anduin.

Why is he saying his name? Is he drawing his attention for a reason? Encouragement? Protest?

The hand resting on Anduin's back moves as his arm curls more around him, nails digging into the priest's side as he holds him close. The press into his lap is not unwelcome.

"Yes," he responds, a little drunk with the warmth and stimulation. He can feel himself balking, shying at the threshold. The contact is good, pleasurable, and he wants more of it -- yet the lack of knowledge leaves him uneasy. There's a high chance he could make a fool of himself here. How experienced Anduin is still remains a mystery, but Wrathion suspects he is in some way more so. He's at least a little more confident in directing their kisses.

"If I am being too... forward, tell me."

Wrathion's senses tell him that Anduin is interested, but the mind and body don't always agree. Always better to check.

Anduin cannot help the somewhat confused expression which passes over his face as Wrathion pulls away again. Too forward? He can't think what would have given him that impression. It's all that Anduin can do to keep himself from rocking himself on Wrathion's lap, and Wrathion is wondering if he is being too forward?

"No, not at all," Anduin assures, trying to do his best to rein himself back in. "It's nice, I -- I like this." He flashes Wrathion what he hopes is a reassuring smile, moving a hand to brace gently on his arm. "I like you."

Now that he's given himself a moment to cool down, he notices the semi-wild look in his companion's eyes, the way that his fingers are digging in just a little too hard.

Anduin strokes his fingers in place against Wrathion's arm. "But this is not only about my comfort."

The gentle touch to his arm has Wrathion twitching in place, tension alerting him to even the slightest contact from Anduin.

"Yes, of course," he says. He doesn't really know what he's agreeing with. That it isn't just about Anduin's comfort? That it's nice? That Anduin likes him?

He hesitates, trying to decide the best way forward. To address this, to navigate these waters without any sort of directional guide.

"You have experience with this?"

Not that it -- changes much. He feels like he might be stalling, digging his heels in to slow this down while somehow also desperately wanting to throw himself into it. It feels like he's on the threshold here, and perhaps if he could just push himself over and through everything would be fine but -- but getting there without a solid plan is proving... challenging.

While it has been obvious, at least in some regards, that Wrathion has been enjoying this moment of privacy they have found together -- it has been equally clear that Wrathion is not entirely comfortable with himself in the contact either. Anduin can feel him practically vibrating with tension, and while some of that may be excited anticipation, he's starting to wonder if a larger amount than he'd realized may indeed be... Nerves.

He hums softly at the question, before nodding his assent. It would be silly to pretend otherwise, when all of the signs are there.

"I do, a little," he admits. "It wasn't... Easy. I mean. Most of the people at court -- have expectations of me. But I -- do sneak out. Sometimes."

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