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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no subject
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."
no subject
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.
no subject
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?"
no subject
"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.
no subject
"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.
no subject
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.