Wrathion studies Anduin sideways, sliding his claw-tipped fingers over to steal another piece of cheese while the king is frozen. It means something, he thinks, this reaction. The question is, does it mean what he hopes? Does it mean the memories stay within them both? Or is it simply some expression of confusion over what he's saying? He doesn't... think so, surely if Anduin was confused he'd simply just ask what he meant or laugh him off.
Yet he cannot be certain.
"Buying food," Wrathion says simply, feeding himself cheese thoughtfully and letting that hang. "Even if perhaps my preference is a little spicier than yours."
There, another subtle clue. If Anduin doesn't know what he's talking about, he can pass it off as a simply a memory based on Pandaria. Yet he hopes -- he hopes he doesn't have to.
Anduin can hear his own heartbeat in his ears, the rushing of blood as his mind goes into overdrive. It sounds as if Wrathion is talking of Lunatia rather than Pandaria but it's difficult to discern the truth just by hearing those words. Not for the first time in Anduin's life does he wish someone would just spit it out! He can definitely relate to his father's ire for such things.
"Yes well, you have had more opportunity to eat such things than I." Anduin wishes he could just outright ask about Lunatia, to query if Wrathion knows. But what if he's wrong? There's been no inkling or intuition that the black dragon knew these things prior. Has something changed or is it simply someone's tired mind playing tricks on them again? Anduin knows that the latter is more likely and he ignores the sad twinge in his chest at such a thought. There have been too many days wishing for such things.
Anduin sighs audibly, a rare instance of irritation gracing his features as he pointedly sets about arranging the slices of bread and cheese on a pair of plates. The last thing he needs is Wrathion teasing him about something unaware it means something wholly different! This whole thing had been a bad idea and Anduin silently chides himself for it. Maybe he should go back to Ironforge for a time, clear his head with some studying with the dwarves.
Wrathion feels another wave of anxiety, his mind picking apart every little detail. Is he going about this all the right way? Is he not? Has he made a mistake?
His lips press into a line, brow furrowing in thought.
"I had thought you might wish a full report on Ny'alotha," he says finally, "and... I had hoped we might talk more... personally, too. If you do not have the time, I understand."
Since he's gone from being offered a sandwich to being redirected to talking about business, perhaps Anduin's patience is failing. Wrathion knows that he does test people's patience. He's grown better about it, he thinks, but it isn't a talent he's lost entirely. The last thing he wants is to drive Anduin too far away.
Anduin watches every move Wrathion makes, taking note of how the other seems to be concerned over something. There had been a small hope that Wrathion knew of Lunatia and yet no-one has said anything yet, paralysed by a fear that it would cause more harm than good.
He's forgetting something, Anduin has that naggling feeling in the back of his mind, letting him know that there's something important he should be remembering. It's just difficult. Parts of Lunatia are clear as day and some parts not so much. The memories of some conversations are fading with time and as hard to recall as it is to catch running water with fingertips.
"Of course." Anduin has never felt so disinterested in a report before, but then he has known the outcome for longer than Wrathion has at this rate. He keeps his attention on the food, assembling two large sandwiches for the pair of them before motioning towards the table and chairs. It's normally the one the cooks and servers sit at but right now Anduin doesn't mind. Sometimes it just feels better to pretend there are no airs and graces.
Sometimes it's just better to spit things out. Varian had always been good at that, Genn seemed to sometimes let his own patience run out. Anduin can't help but wonder if they were both on to something because sometimes these days it just seems easier to cut to the chase. He just wishes his body would get that message rather than feeling like an anxious mess and Anduin takes a seat, seemingly disinterested in his own food.
Cut to the chase. What was the worst that would happen? Wrathion would think he was weird but maybe Anduin could laugh it off? Say it was a joke?
"Tell me what it is you wish to talk about personally."
Wrathion crosses to the table and stands behind a chair, fingers drumming along the back as he thinks.
"I had hoped for a little more... grandeur for this, but I suppose the kitchen will have to do."
At least a little... recognition, ego boosting. Possibly Anduin flinging himself at him in relief that he's alive and well, thanking him at length for braving all the terrible dangers of Ny'alotha.
This is, in truth, as underwhelming as it is awkward.
"The Black Dragonflight has a dark and twisted history, one filled with uncountable suffering both of its members and the denizens of Azeroth who were caught in its troubles. With the fall of N'Zoth I hope to forge it a new legacy, to live up to its original task -- the protection of Azeroth. You and I both know it faces many threats, even with the Black Empire in ruins. I came back here, Anduin, with the hope that you would see I have been true to my word. With the hope that we could begin again, once more, and that you might one day hold me in the high esteem that I hold you."
More grandeur. That comment hits home enough to bring a guilty tinge to Anduin's cheeks. Here he was treating Wrathion like a secret, just a quick talk in the night where no-one else would (or should) be listening in. He knows he's been hoping that Wrathion wouldn't be talking business, that the other would suddenly proclaim his interest and that they could both take it from there.
But this isn't a storybook. This is someone who has just come back from the most nightmarish of wars to announce that through their hard work they had won. Knowing what the outcome would be doesn't make that feat any less and Anduin knows he's guilty of complacency, if anything. Wrathion deserves better than a sandwich in the kitchen and Anduin puts his own food down, suddenly not as hungry as he had been. It's hard to forget that they aren't as close as they had been and that the more personal touch could be seen as lacking.
Anduin gets to his feet, not keen on sitting down when he should be giving Wrathion his full attention and for the first time that night blue eyes manage to fix on the black dragon without quickly flitting away to something else.
"You have started more than that, my friend. Whilst the Black Dragonflight has been a problem in the past it has also had it's fair share of troubles. It's time people started to let go of prejudices; they do more harm than good, believe me. Tomorrow when others are awake I shall call a meeting in the war room. You are invited."
He hesitates. Now would be a good time to say something, anything about Lunatia! If nothing is said Anduin knows he'll lay awake at night regretting it forever and there may never be another time the pair of them aren't being stalked by Greymane like this. But how? Anduin sighs, the smile that appears across his face a genuine one.
"I apologise if my enthusiasm seems low. It is just that I dreamed of you telling me these things, of this outcome with N'Zoth."
Well, it is at least always nice to be told someone has been dreaming of you.
Wrathion returns the smile, a little hesitant.
"The High King of the Alliance calling a meeting just for me, a humble citizen?"
Hardly humble. He thinks a moment, then slowly circles around the table.
"But it is not their approval I seek, Anduin, only yours."
He reaches out, carefully moving to take one pale hand in his. The skin is cool under his touch, and Wrathion can feel his heart race even as he tries to project an air of confidence, of control. As if he's fully assured of his position, as if the nerves crawling over his skin don't exist.
"As I recovered in the Chamber of Heart I thought only of you. I had a vision we were in a vast city on a world with three moons, buildings built up high toward the sky. I had hoped you dreamed the same."
Edited (no i wanted this icon) 2020-12-10 13:45 (UTC)
The humble comment gets no verbal response from Anduin, only faux unimpressed look. There is nothing about Wrathion that is humble, even the form he chooses is anything but. Before he can say anything on the matter, Wrathion is suddenly on the prowl.
"Only my approval?"
Anduin knows Wrathion already has it, but only through the merits of being in Lunatia. Had they not spent time together then , talking things through, Anduin wonders if it would have taken much more time here. He could already agree that the defeat of N'Zoth is more than enough and yet it does not undo the past. Lucky for Wrathion that Anduin remembers and it takes everything in him not to curl his fingers around those suddenly at his hand.
"Wha — "
The words stop dead when Wrathion speaks of a city in a world with three moons. Instantly Anduin's mind points them out, names them and Wrathion is talking about them. He wonders if it's a joke, some kind of teasing and yet he knows that he hasn't whispered a word of Lunatia to anyone in Azeroth.
Anduin knows he's staring. It's hard not to when someone speaks words that one could only dream of. Did it mean Lunatia was real? That it had happened? That Wrathion had happened?
Suddenly he remembers to breath, drawing a shaky breath and struggling to find words. Anduin had expected to have a sandwich and talk shop, not be blindsided by talk of another life.
Wrathion's eyes widen briefly, then the smile creeps over his features again -- more genuine. He takes another step forward, crowding Anduin up against the table.
"You remember," he prompts, and his other hand lifts to Anduin's face. He traces the backs of his fingers down it slowly, acclimatising himself to the touch. "Then you can guess what I want to know, Anduin."
They were close, in Lunatia, very close. Here, now? When Anduin has his duties once more? Wrathion is well aware there are... complications. Aware that he is a complication. While they were in Lunatia, Anduin had insisted that things didn't matter. That nobody else was there, and that by all accounts they wouldn't remember their time in the city -- so why worry? Yet here, now, there are together and they both remember. Wrathion cares little what the rest of the population of Stormwind or the Alliance think of him, but Anduin? Anduin would be the one who truly suffers. The decision has to be his.
Anduin leans back against the table as Wrathion crowds him up against it. He can hardly believe what he's hearing right now. He's spent so long convincing himself that the whole thing had been a dream, something his tired mind had made up that Anduin had never truly considered what to do had it been true.
But why now? Blond brows draw together a little as he tries to figure it out. Back in Lunatia they had talked about things that Anduin hadn't known were going to happen but Wrathion remembered experiencing. Which meant —
He didn't remember because he hadn't been to Lunatia.
The realisation quickly hits and Anduin opens his mouth to say as much, pausing when Wrathion touches his face. He doesn't even think twice about leaning into the touch, eyes briefly closing as he relishes it. How he's missed Wrathion. To think he'd been all for putting it down as a dream and trying to forget about it!
"Mm. I suppose I can guess."
What would they do now? If Anduin went the logical route he knew that it would be tricky to keep Wrathion around. Genn would lose his shit and Anduin would almost be able to understand it. Though would it truly be a bad thing? No, it would not. At what point did he get to be happy, to do something for himself for a change? Just because others did not experience much happiness did not mean they got to drag their king down with them.
It's a harsh though and Anduin almost feels guilty for it. Almost. Right now he's more interesting in reaching out to rest a hand at Wrathion's sternum. What would his father think if he was still around? There would be lots of words, probably expletives and naturally shouting. But Anduin knows no matter how angry Varian got, he would try to understand if only because his son's happiness was at stake. Had it been closer to after the Onyxia incident Anduin has no doubt that Wrathion would have been swiftly dealt with.
That thought alone brings a grin to Anduin's face.
"What I would like to understand is how long you're intending to stay in Stormwind for?"
He might, of course, have to leave now and then -- but so would Anduin. That isn't the point. The point is that he wants to be with him, to stay by his side. His fingers creep up to nudge blond strands back off Anduin's face, then slide back down to tilt his chin up as he leans in to brush their lips together. Perhaps, in this instance, being in the kitchens is a blessing -- so long as nobody walks in on them of course. That would be... unfortunate, for Anduin at least. Wrathion can't say it particularly bothers him, since he'd rather as many people as possible know his claim on the young king. Dragons are not particularly good at sharing, and he himself is no exception.
Neither is he particularly patient, in this instance.
Anduin can't help the mumbled reply, relishing in every little touch Wrathion has to offer right now. He had missed this so much and every day believing Wrathion would never know had been torturous, dulling the young King's edges ever so much. He should stop to think about this, to figure out how they were going about this but the moment the black dragon kisses him all thoughts go out the window as Anduin kisses back. If someone walks in on them he'll have to order them to forget what they saw, or something, he'll figure it out!
The kiss is broken only for Anduin to frame Wrathion's face with his hands, resting his forehead lightly against the other's as he just takes a moment.
"You have no idea how long I have waited for this. Why did you think I had called you back to Stormwind before you left with the champion?"
Wrathion considers that a moment, considers the warm feel of Anduin so close. Of his hands, their foreheads touching.
"I'm here now," he offers. He hadn't remembered back then, had thought Anduin was still angry at him. Was confused by the change of heart. Now, though, now he remembers. His hands slide down Anduin's back, around his sides and hips possessively. He pushes at Anduin a little, encouraging him to hop up onto the table. "I have no intention of making you wait."
Really, Anduin can have as much of his attention as he desires as soon as he wants it.
Wrathion being there right in this moment was what was important and Anduin gives the smallest of nods as he scoots back up on to the table, making sure to pull Wrathion up against him as soon as he's able to. Anduin loves just how possessive the other is in tone and actions, shivering ever so slightly as hands slide to his hips. At this rate they're probably going to give some poor cook a heart attack and Anduin can barely bring himself to care about the absolute scandal it could cause.
"I missed you and I have no intention of waiting."
Absolutely not. The last stretch of time with Wrathion has been torturous enough. Not only that but there had been so much self doubt going on and general disappointment that Anduin hadn't known if he was coming or going! And now here they are, together without a care in the world and for once Anduin knows that everything is going to be okay. His hands are already shifting to twine lightly in thick, dark locks as Anduin leans in for another kiss, this time not as gentle as he nips at Wrathion's lower lip.
Wrathion wouldn't begrudge him anything, least of all a kiss.
He leans into it, arms circling around Anduin to hold him close, and he feels a primal thrill thrush through him. Anduin is his, and now they are free of that strange city and able to be together in their homeland. Now, can he fly Anduin on a tour of Pandaria should he wish. They could lay together in the keep, or out in the grass, or anywhere they feel like.
Well, perhaps Anduin's role might offer some resistance to those ideas -- but Wrathion is a dragon! He would be perfectly safe with him.
He breaks the kiss again, breaths coming more heavily, and offers a low growl of satisfaction.
"There may no longer be chroma between us," he murmurs, "but I can still please you."
Confidence, of course. Why wouldn't he be able to?
Such confidence is all part of Wrathion's charm; though Anduin would never admit that out loud, he knows that Wrathion would be insufferable if he had any idea how much the young King loved it. Now that Wrathion remembers everything, he's starting to feel like everything will be fine again, that the future could hold as much good in it as it did bad.
There are no thoughts to the future though when Anduin hears that low growl, feeling it go straight to his groin as arousal begins to take hold. They shouldn't. Not in the kitchens where anyone could walk in and yet just that thought has Anduin shifting his legs to loosely wrap around Wrathion's waist. Roles? What roles?
Anduin breathes his next words out, unwilling to give either of them any space as he does so.
"As if you need to ask. I'm yours." There's another brief kiss, this one almost chaste as Anduin leans forwards to whisper in to the dragon's ear. "You've kept me waiting."
Wrathion's eyes half-lid at the whisper, a low, rumbling sound somewhere between a purr and a growl slipping out in response.
Kept him waiting, Anduin says, and the legs wrapping around him fire something deep in Wrathion that's more animal than his human guise.
"Did I?" he prompts, and his hands drop to hook under fabric -- to gently seek out the warm skin of Anduin's back and sides. "Well then, far be it for me to make you wait longer."
He drops his face to Anduin's neck, grazing teeth lightly along the soft skin there. His scent is intoxicating, familiar, makes desire tighten in him. He can imagine it, already, imagine pulling Anduin free of all his clothing and pressing him down across this table.
Damn straight he'd been waiting. The time spent since returning from Lunatia had been an absolute nightmare for Anduin's libido. He'd gone from having a ridiculously attractive boyfriend to straight up nothing and the amount of times Anduin had made sure to keep water cold when bathing just to get over it had been ridiculous.
The teeth at his neck draw a shudder from the young King as his view of the world narrows to just the two of them in the moment. He loves this, he missed being able to forget all the rigmarole and responsibilities that came with his life. it's selfish but absolutely vital, Wrathion is needed and Anduin can feel himself growing hard as he starts to think along the same lines as his partner. The table will be fine, they can go upstairs later, afterwards when they have all the time in the world.
Anduin just can't seem to help the small noise of frustration leaving his lips as he starts to fiddle with Wrathion's belt.
Rich, coming from a man normally encased in a suit of armour. Wrathion laughs, reaching to undo the sash holding his coat closed and unfastening a few buttons at the top.
"It's important to look the part," he murmurs, and moves to set his gloves aside on the table. Exposed hands reach out, guide themselves under Anduin's shirt again so bare fingers can make contact with his skin. "Something I know you understand."
He leans in again, catching Anduin into a slower kiss as slides one hand down to tease at his waistband. He can feel the heat pouring off Anduin's body now, can smell his arousal taking hold and it fuels his own into a frenzy of passion. He can feel his skin prickling, the sensitivity he has to every pass of Anduin's hands over his body even through layers of fabric.
Anduin revels in the feel of warm hands against his heated skin, groaning low into the almost lazy kiss to convey his appreciation. He instinctively shifts to try and somehow get closer against Wrathion when he feels fingers at his waistband, his body craving each and every single touch all the more. Words by this point feel like a waste and Anduin breaks the kiss in an attempt to wrestle Wrathion out of his coat, hands fumbling in sheer desperation. There are so many things he wants to do, to explore every inch of gorgeous skin before taking his time to follow the actions with his mouth and enjoying what noises he can pull from Wrathion...
"Off." The coat gets an impatient tug as Anduin pants out a single word. He's just aching to feel warm skin against his own, to lose himself in the heat of Wrathion's embrace and he can't help but be a little demanding about it.
Wrathion laughs lightly as he draws back, finishes unbuttoning his coat and shrugging it off. He drapes it over the back of a chair, leans back in and presses his face into Anduin's neck. Teeth graze skin once more, sharp against the frantic hammer of his pulse, and latch on enough to bruise this time. His hands press back under soft fabric, pushing into the warm muscles of his back. Anduin's strength now that he wears heavy armour and wields a sword is... more appealing than Wrathion had expected.
"Mine," he murmurs, and teases kisses back up and along his jaw. He's beautiful, so beautiful, and Wrathion has no intention of sharing him. Not if he can help it.
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Wrathion studies Anduin sideways, sliding his claw-tipped fingers over to steal another piece of cheese while the king is frozen. It means something, he thinks, this reaction. The question is, does it mean what he hopes? Does it mean the memories stay within them both? Or is it simply some expression of confusion over what he's saying? He doesn't... think so, surely if Anduin was confused he'd simply just ask what he meant or laugh him off.
Yet he cannot be certain.
"Buying food," Wrathion says simply, feeding himself cheese thoughtfully and letting that hang. "Even if perhaps my preference is a little spicier than yours."
There, another subtle clue. If Anduin doesn't know what he's talking about, he can pass it off as a simply a memory based on Pandaria. Yet he hopes -- he hopes he doesn't have to.
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"Yes well, you have had more opportunity to eat such things than I." Anduin wishes he could just outright ask about Lunatia, to query if Wrathion knows. But what if he's wrong? There's been no inkling or intuition that the black dragon knew these things prior. Has something changed or is it simply someone's tired mind playing tricks on them again? Anduin knows that the latter is more likely and he ignores the sad twinge in his chest at such a thought. There have been too many days wishing for such things.
Anduin sighs audibly, a rare instance of irritation gracing his features as he pointedly sets about arranging the slices of bread and cheese on a pair of plates. The last thing he needs is Wrathion teasing him about something unaware it means something wholly different! This whole thing had been a bad idea and Anduin silently chides himself for it. Maybe he should go back to Ironforge for a time, clear his head with some studying with the dwarves.
"What was it you wished to report?"
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Wrathion feels another wave of anxiety, his mind picking apart every little detail. Is he going about this all the right way? Is he not? Has he made a mistake?
His lips press into a line, brow furrowing in thought.
"I had thought you might wish a full report on Ny'alotha," he says finally, "and... I had hoped we might talk more... personally, too. If you do not have the time, I understand."
Since he's gone from being offered a sandwich to being redirected to talking about business, perhaps Anduin's patience is failing. Wrathion knows that he does test people's patience. He's grown better about it, he thinks, but it isn't a talent he's lost entirely. The last thing he wants is to drive Anduin too far away.
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He's forgetting something, Anduin has that naggling feeling in the back of his mind, letting him know that there's something important he should be remembering. It's just difficult. Parts of Lunatia are clear as day and some parts not so much. The memories of some conversations are fading with time and as hard to recall as it is to catch running water with fingertips.
"Of course." Anduin has never felt so disinterested in a report before, but then he has known the outcome for longer than Wrathion has at this rate. He keeps his attention on the food, assembling two large sandwiches for the pair of them before motioning towards the table and chairs. It's normally the one the cooks and servers sit at but right now Anduin doesn't mind. Sometimes it just feels better to pretend there are no airs and graces.
Sometimes it's just better to spit things out. Varian had always been good at that, Genn seemed to sometimes let his own patience run out. Anduin can't help but wonder if they were both on to something because sometimes these days it just seems easier to cut to the chase. He just wishes his body would get that message rather than feeling like an anxious mess and Anduin takes a seat, seemingly disinterested in his own food.
Cut to the chase. What was the worst that would happen? Wrathion would think he was weird but maybe Anduin could laugh it off? Say it was a joke?
"Tell me what it is you wish to talk about personally."
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Wrathion crosses to the table and stands behind a chair, fingers drumming along the back as he thinks.
"I had hoped for a little more... grandeur for this, but I suppose the kitchen will have to do."
At least a little... recognition, ego boosting. Possibly Anduin flinging himself at him in relief that he's alive and well, thanking him at length for braving all the terrible dangers of Ny'alotha.
This is, in truth, as underwhelming as it is awkward.
"The Black Dragonflight has a dark and twisted history, one filled with uncountable suffering both of its members and the denizens of Azeroth who were caught in its troubles. With the fall of N'Zoth I hope to forge it a new legacy, to live up to its original task -- the protection of Azeroth. You and I both know it faces many threats, even with the Black Empire in ruins. I came back here, Anduin, with the hope that you would see I have been true to my word. With the hope that we could begin again, once more, and that you might one day hold me in the high esteem that I hold you."
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But this isn't a storybook. This is someone who has just come back from the most nightmarish of wars to announce that through their hard work they had won. Knowing what the outcome would be doesn't make that feat any less and Anduin knows he's guilty of complacency, if anything. Wrathion deserves better than a sandwich in the kitchen and Anduin puts his own food down, suddenly not as hungry as he had been. It's hard to forget that they aren't as close as they had been and that the more personal touch could be seen as lacking.
Anduin gets to his feet, not keen on sitting down when he should be giving Wrathion his full attention and for the first time that night blue eyes manage to fix on the black dragon without quickly flitting away to something else.
"You have started more than that, my friend. Whilst the Black Dragonflight has been a problem in the past it has also had it's fair share of troubles. It's time people started to let go of prejudices; they do more harm than good, believe me. Tomorrow when others are awake I shall call a meeting in the war room. You are invited."
He hesitates. Now would be a good time to say something, anything about Lunatia! If nothing is said Anduin knows he'll lay awake at night regretting it forever and there may never be another time the pair of them aren't being stalked by Greymane like this. But how? Anduin sighs, the smile that appears across his face a genuine one.
"I apologise if my enthusiasm seems low. It is just that I dreamed of you telling me these things, of this outcome with N'Zoth."
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Wrathion returns the smile, a little hesitant.
"The High King of the Alliance calling a meeting just for me, a humble citizen?"
Hardly humble. He thinks a moment, then slowly circles around the table.
"But it is not their approval I seek, Anduin, only yours."
He reaches out, carefully moving to take one pale hand in his. The skin is cool under his touch, and Wrathion can feel his heart race even as he tries to project an air of confidence, of control. As if he's fully assured of his position, as if the nerves crawling over his skin don't exist.
"As I recovered in the Chamber of Heart I thought only of you. I had a vision we were in a vast city on a world with three moons, buildings built up high toward the sky. I had hoped you dreamed the same."
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"Only my approval?"
Anduin knows Wrathion already has it, but only through the merits of being in Lunatia. Had they not spent time together then , talking things through, Anduin wonders if it would have taken much more time here. He could already agree that the defeat of N'Zoth is more than enough and yet it does not undo the past. Lucky for Wrathion that Anduin remembers and it takes everything in him not to curl his fingers around those suddenly at his hand.
"Wha — "
The words stop dead when Wrathion speaks of a city in a world with three moons. Instantly Anduin's mind points them out, names them and Wrathion is talking about them. He wonders if it's a joke, some kind of teasing and yet he knows that he hasn't whispered a word of Lunatia to anyone in Azeroth.
Anduin knows he's staring. It's hard not to when someone speaks words that one could only dream of. Did it mean Lunatia was real? That it had happened? That Wrathion had happened?
Suddenly he remembers to breath, drawing a shaky breath and struggling to find words. Anduin had expected to have a sandwich and talk shop, not be blindsided by talk of another life.
"You speak of Lunatia."
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Wrathion's eyes widen briefly, then the smile creeps over his features again -- more genuine. He takes another step forward, crowding Anduin up against the table.
"You remember," he prompts, and his other hand lifts to Anduin's face. He traces the backs of his fingers down it slowly, acclimatising himself to the touch. "Then you can guess what I want to know, Anduin."
They were close, in Lunatia, very close. Here, now? When Anduin has his duties once more? Wrathion is well aware there are... complications. Aware that he is a complication. While they were in Lunatia, Anduin had insisted that things didn't matter. That nobody else was there, and that by all accounts they wouldn't remember their time in the city -- so why worry? Yet here, now, there are together and they both remember. Wrathion cares little what the rest of the population of Stormwind or the Alliance think of him, but Anduin? Anduin would be the one who truly suffers. The decision has to be his.
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But why now? Blond brows draw together a little as he tries to figure it out. Back in Lunatia they had talked about things that Anduin hadn't known were going to happen but Wrathion remembered experiencing. Which meant —
He didn't remember because he hadn't been to Lunatia.
The realisation quickly hits and Anduin opens his mouth to say as much, pausing when Wrathion touches his face. He doesn't even think twice about leaning into the touch, eyes briefly closing as he relishes it. How he's missed Wrathion. To think he'd been all for putting it down as a dream and trying to forget about it!
"Mm. I suppose I can guess."
What would they do now? If Anduin went the logical route he knew that it would be tricky to keep Wrathion around. Genn would lose his shit and Anduin would almost be able to understand it. Though would it truly be a bad thing? No, it would not. At what point did he get to be happy, to do something for himself for a change? Just because others did not experience much happiness did not mean they got to drag their king down with them.
It's a harsh though and Anduin almost feels guilty for it. Almost. Right now he's more interesting in reaching out to rest a hand at Wrathion's sternum. What would his father think if he was still around? There would be lots of words, probably expletives and naturally shouting. But Anduin knows no matter how angry Varian got, he would try to understand if only because his son's happiness was at stake. Had it been closer to after the Onyxia incident Anduin has no doubt that Wrathion would have been swiftly dealt with.
That thought alone brings a grin to Anduin's face.
"What I would like to understand is how long you're intending to stay in Stormwind for?"
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He might, of course, have to leave now and then -- but so would Anduin. That isn't the point. The point is that he wants to be with him, to stay by his side. His fingers creep up to nudge blond strands back off Anduin's face, then slide back down to tilt his chin up as he leans in to brush their lips together. Perhaps, in this instance, being in the kitchens is a blessing -- so long as nobody walks in on them of course. That would be... unfortunate, for Anduin at least. Wrathion can't say it particularly bothers him, since he'd rather as many people as possible know his claim on the young king. Dragons are not particularly good at sharing, and he himself is no exception.
Neither is he particularly patient, in this instance.
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Anduin can't help the mumbled reply, relishing in every little touch Wrathion has to offer right now. He had missed this so much and every day believing Wrathion would never know had been torturous, dulling the young King's edges ever so much. He should stop to think about this, to figure out how they were going about this but the moment the black dragon kisses him all thoughts go out the window as Anduin kisses back. If someone walks in on them he'll have to order them to forget what they saw, or something, he'll figure it out!
The kiss is broken only for Anduin to frame Wrathion's face with his hands, resting his forehead lightly against the other's as he just takes a moment.
"You have no idea how long I have waited for this. Why did you think I had called you back to Stormwind before you left with the champion?"
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Wrathion considers that a moment, considers the warm feel of Anduin so close. Of his hands, their foreheads touching.
"I'm here now," he offers. He hadn't remembered back then, had thought Anduin was still angry at him. Was confused by the change of heart. Now, though, now he remembers. His hands slide down Anduin's back, around his sides and hips possessively. He pushes at Anduin a little, encouraging him to hop up onto the table. "I have no intention of making you wait."
Really, Anduin can have as much of his attention as he desires as soon as he wants it.
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"I missed you and I have no intention of waiting."
Absolutely not. The last stretch of time with Wrathion has been torturous enough. Not only that but there had been so much self doubt going on and general disappointment that Anduin hadn't known if he was coming or going! And now here they are, together without a care in the world and for once Anduin knows that everything is going to be okay. His hands are already shifting to twine lightly in thick, dark locks as Anduin leans in for another kiss, this time not as gentle as he nips at Wrathion's lower lip.
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He leans into it, arms circling around Anduin to hold him close, and he feels a primal thrill thrush through him. Anduin is his, and now they are free of that strange city and able to be together in their homeland. Now, can he fly Anduin on a tour of Pandaria should he wish. They could lay together in the keep, or out in the grass, or anywhere they feel like.
Well, perhaps Anduin's role might offer some resistance to those ideas -- but Wrathion is a dragon! He would be perfectly safe with him.
He breaks the kiss again, breaths coming more heavily, and offers a low growl of satisfaction.
"There may no longer be chroma between us," he murmurs, "but I can still please you."
Confidence, of course. Why wouldn't he be able to?
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There are no thoughts to the future though when Anduin hears that low growl, feeling it go straight to his groin as arousal begins to take hold. They shouldn't. Not in the kitchens where anyone could walk in and yet just that thought has Anduin shifting his legs to loosely wrap around Wrathion's waist. Roles? What roles?
Anduin breathes his next words out, unwilling to give either of them any space as he does so.
"As if you need to ask. I'm yours." There's another brief kiss, this one almost chaste as Anduin leans forwards to whisper in to the dragon's ear. "You've kept me waiting."
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Kept him waiting, Anduin says, and the legs wrapping around him fire something deep in Wrathion that's more animal than his human guise.
"Did I?" he prompts, and his hands drop to hook under fabric -- to gently seek out the warm skin of Anduin's back and sides. "Well then, far be it for me to make you wait longer."
He drops his face to Anduin's neck, grazing teeth lightly along the soft skin there. His scent is intoxicating, familiar, makes desire tighten in him. He can imagine it, already, imagine pulling Anduin free of all his clothing and pressing him down across this table.
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The teeth at his neck draw a shudder from the young King as his view of the world narrows to just the two of them in the moment. He loves this, he missed being able to forget all the rigmarole and responsibilities that came with his life. it's selfish but absolutely vital, Wrathion is needed and Anduin can feel himself growing hard as he starts to think along the same lines as his partner. The table will be fine, they can go upstairs later, afterwards when they have all the time in the world.
Anduin just can't seem to help the small noise of frustration leaving his lips as he starts to fiddle with Wrathion's belt.
"Why must you insist on so much clothing?"
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"It's important to look the part," he murmurs, and moves to set his gloves aside on the table. Exposed hands reach out, guide themselves under Anduin's shirt again so bare fingers can make contact with his skin. "Something I know you understand."
He leans in again, catching Anduin into a slower kiss as slides one hand down to tease at his waistband. He can feel the heat pouring off Anduin's body now, can smell his arousal taking hold and it fuels his own into a frenzy of passion. He can feel his skin prickling, the sensitivity he has to every pass of Anduin's hands over his body even through layers of fabric.
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"Off." The coat gets an impatient tug as Anduin pants out a single word. He's just aching to feel warm skin against his own, to lose himself in the heat of Wrathion's embrace and he can't help but be a little demanding about it.
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Wrathion laughs lightly as he draws back, finishes unbuttoning his coat and shrugging it off. He drapes it over the back of a chair, leans back in and presses his face into Anduin's neck. Teeth graze skin once more, sharp against the frantic hammer of his pulse, and latch on enough to bruise this time. His hands press back under soft fabric, pushing into the warm muscles of his back. Anduin's strength now that he wears heavy armour and wields a sword is... more appealing than Wrathion had expected.
"Mine," he murmurs, and teases kisses back up and along his jaw. He's beautiful, so beautiful, and Wrathion has no intention of sharing him. Not if he can help it.