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Take it from the Top

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King Anduin ran a hand through his hair, grumbling under his breath as he climbed the stairs to his palace, surrounded by guards, just after sunset. He’d been unable to resist the urge to visit the Cathedral - to walk its white stone halls, seek what solace from the Light he could, and reaffirm to himself that it had not fallen. Of course it hadn’t - Wrathion had been right about the visions - and Anduin wondered just how much of his actions these last few weeks had been himself, or the Old God’s influence.

Once safely within the keep, he gestured faintly with one hand and the guards dispersed, leaving him to his own devices as he made his way to the castle library. He needed something to distract him so he could sleep tonight, and he was reticent to rely on the potions the royal alchemist would be all too willing to provide. Anduin doubted everything now, but most especially himself.

To his surprise, the King found his newest advisor hidden between the wooden shelves, leaning back precariously in a chair with his feet up on the table, reading a book of children’s stories. For a moment, Anduin had to resist the urge to kick the chair out from underneath the dragon in a show of petulant anger, but he shook his head - the punch was probably enough.

“Wrathion,” he said by way of greeting, and at the sound of his name he snapped the book shut and tucked it away.

“Anduin! What a pleasant surprise. I thought you’d be tucked safe in your bed by this hour.” There it was again, that smug grin that got under his skin.

“It’s barely eight, Wrathion,” he said.

“Yes, a proper bedtime for all the good little human children.”

Anduin reconsidered whether or not the punch had been enough, but sighed. “Of the two of us, I’m not the one wasting time reading fairy tales.”

Wrathion smirked. “It’s not wasting time when I’m learning more about the culture of the court I serve. Children’s stories are, after all, the earliest exposure most people have to the prevalent social mores that govern the society in which they live.”

“I see,” he crossed his arms and leaned against the bookcase. “Did you learn anything of note, then? Besides the obsession with Princes and who they bed?”

The chair’s legs slammed into the floor as Wrathion leaned forward, ending its teetering dance. “Forgive me,” he said quietly. “I was just startled.”

“By what?” Anduin asked.

Standing, Wrathion shook his head ruefully. “Sometimes I forget how perceptive the Old Gods can be. But, no matter. I should really be finding my own rest anyway.” He started for the door.

“W-wait, Wrathion,” Anduin called out, following him. He caught his arm in his hand and the dragon glanced back over his shoulder. For a moment, Anduin felt small, nearly powerless, as those glowing red eyes pinned him to the ground. He swallowed anxiously. “I just wanted to apologize. For punching you earlier.” He released his arm and glanced at the ground. “I’m sorry. I was not myself.”

“You were more yourself than you realize,” Wrathion chuckled. “It was very near to the welcome I’d expected.”

“You expected me to hit you?”

“Not quite.”

“Then what did you expect?” Anduin asked.

“That would be telling.” Whatever darkness had momentarily shadowed Wrathion’s face was gone, replaced with that insufferable smirk.

“An advisor, refusing to answer his King’s question?” Anduin teased.

“A king, asking an advisor a personal question?” Wrathion countered.

“A friend, then? Asking an old friend a personal question?” he offered hopefully.

Wrathion closed his eyes and mumbled to himself, “I’m going to regret this.” He opened his eyes again and appraised Anduin. “Why don’t I show you?”

Anduin frowned as he sat on his throne. “You just want me to sit here.”

“No,” Wrathion grumbled. “I mean, yes. I mean, for now. Look. Everything went as I expected right up until the punch. So let’s just… take it from the top.” He took his position at the far end of the room. “So you saw me, and…” He gestured toward Anduin with one hand, his claws catching the moonlight.

“And I said, ‘Wrathion,’ then I punched you.”

“Yes. The saying my name part is fine. Perfect.” The dragon chewed one lip and Anduin realized he was discomfited. “And you walked toward me before you punched me.”

“I believe when Master Shaw recounted the event he used the term ‘stormed’,” he offered.

“Storming works, it’s still walking with purpose and intention.”

“And so you want me to say your name, and storm towards you,” Anduin asked.

“You said you wanted to know what I expected,” Wrathion offered lamely. “This is an idiotic idea. We shouldn’t.”

“No!” Anduin laughed. “This is a nice distraction, please.”

His companion gave him an exasperated look. “Alright then, Just do it like you did this afternoon. I’ll stop you when you’re at the spot where it diverged.”

Anduin laughed. “All right.” He coughed, and did his best to scowl. “Wrathion…” he growled, and stood, storming across the room toward the dragon. It was easy to fall back into the memory of the event, and his hand raised until it was just over his shoulder as it had before.

“Stop!” Wrathion ordered, and Anduin froze in place. “Perfect. This, right here. This is where it diverged.”

The king glanced up at his raised fist dubiously. “Here?” He looked back at Wrathion. “What did you think was going to happen next?”

Wrathion swallowed nervously and walked toward Anduin. “This,” he whispered. Then Wrathion’s arms were wrapping around him, slipping beneath his raised arm and the other over his shoulder, before all Anduin could taste was wine and chocolate and spice and campfire smoke as he kissed him.

Confusion ripped through Anduin, and he tried to string a thought together as Wrathion pulled away. “I knew this was a bad idea,” the dragon growled. Distantly, Anduin realized this was one of those moments where he’d have to make a choice that would have lasting consequences. But as Wrathion pulled away, he realized it wasn’t really a “choice” at all. There was only one option he could live with.

His raised hand slid around the back of Wrathion’s head and pulled him back down for another kiss, and that seemed to be all the permission he needed. The black dragon was all tongue and teeth for their second kiss, pushing Anduin’s lips apart and exploring his mouth possessively.

“So,” Wrathion whispered as they finally pulled apart. “What happens now?”

Anduin pressed his forehead against Wrathion’s chest as he blushed. “Why are you asking me? This is your fantasy. Tell me what happens next.”

He felt Wrathion’s fingers slip beneath the edge of his armor. “That depends who you are asking, Anduin. Your advisor, or your friend?”

“I would like to think you are my friend first, and my advisor second,” he replied. “So, what happens next?”

Wrathion’s answering smile was all teeth.

“You know…” Wrathion said, surprisingly anxious as he lingered awkwardly near the door. “I was expecting more… argument? From the guards. With regard to me joining you in your bedchamber.”

The king shook his head. “I think of anyone, Shaw is more than cognizant of my ability to have him replaced, and his priorities do not lie with interfering in my personal life.”

“But he’s going to hear about it.”

“Almost certainly,” Anduin sighed. He began unclasping his armor and robes, and paused at Wrathion’s nervousness. “I… does that bother you?” The realization that he should have explained this more clearly to Wrathion hit him unexpectedly as a wave of guilt. “I’m sorry. As a king there are certain… I was raised to know I would never have real privacy, just the illusion of it. I-If that is not -”

Wrathion shook his head. “No, that’s not what bothers me. I was just surprised. I suppose there’s a lot we should talk about, though. Before we…” He swallowed anxiously. “I’ll admit, though I fantasized about joining you in your bed during my travels, I never thought I’d get this far.”

“Why not?” Anduin chuckled.

“You know why,” he argued.

“I’d assumed you’d heard,” Anduin said, “about the time I drunkenly asked Jaina to explain relationships with dragons.”

Choking on his laughter, Wrathion said, “I don’t know what’s more ludicrous - the idea of you drunk or the idea of you asking that question so brazenly.”

“The one lead to the other, to be fair,” he offered. “The teasing I received after drunkenly confessing how I missed you and would do anything if it got you to return... I thought you’d heard. I’d thought that’s why you came back.”

“No,” he whispered, moving to lean on one of the wooden posts that flanked Anduin’s bed. “I came back because I found a way to stop the Old Gods, and you’re the person I wanted to protect from them the most.”

They stared at each other for a few minutes, and Anduin suddenly envied Wrathion his beard. He might have to grow one, if it would hide the way he blushed. “You haven’t gotten undressed yet,” he said lamely.

“Right…” Wrathion glanced down at himself. “Before I do, there’s something you need to know. About me.”

“Hmm?” Anduin asked, tugging his shift off over his head. He wished he had some wine to lower his inhibitions, but he didn’t want to forget anything about tonight. It might be the only time Wrathion let him get this close.

“I’m…” Wrathion anxiously ran a hand through his hair again, staring at the floor. “I’m like Chromie.”

“The bronze dragon? What about her?” Anduin was confused by the comment.

“Y-yes,” Wrathion said. “She is… that is to say, I am the… inverse, and…” The dragon swore. “Light, what was the term she used?” He inhaled sharply and closed his eyes, rattling off a string of words in a flat monotone from memory. “When I hatched the people of Ravenholdt thought I was a girl because I have… er… I lack, certain, expected… anatomy, and though I informed them that I am in fact quite male, I still -”

“Wrathion,” Anduin said gently. “I really don’t care what’s underneath your clothes, except insofar as it’s yours. Do you think Jaina told me anything about dragon genitalia?”

He seemed a little soothed by that. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“How can I be?” the King laughed. “You’re here. You don’t hate me for punching you. You’re planning on staying.” He turned to Wrathion suddenly. “You… are planning on staying, yes?”

“That depends.”

“On?” he asked.

“Tonight. I don’t want to make any promises before we see where this goes.” Wrathion said, reaching for the buttons on his coat and undressing himself with trembling fingers.

A few moments later they were standing naked in front of each other, and Anduin bit his lower lip as he tried to memorize every inch of Wrathion’s body.

“Last chance to change your mind,” the dragon whispered, his voice rough as he stared at Anduin.

“I’m... “ he exhaled, “quite content with this turn of events.”

“Oh,” Wrathion said, and at that his anxiety seemed to melt away. “Good.” He prowled toward Anduin, grabbing his arm with one hand and pulling him close to kiss him. The king inhaled deeply, surprised and yet not at how aggressive a lover Wrathion could be.

Dark claws scraped at his skin as he was pushed back onto the bed, and he only got one good look at Wrathion standing over him - that insufferable, irresistible smirk on his face - before the black dragon climbed onto the bed and slid down onto him with a harsh growl.

Anduin reached for Wrathion, but he batted his hands away idly and grabbed his shoulders, keeping him pinned on his back while the dragon’s whole body writhed on him. “Tell me what you want me to do,” he gasped to the man leaning above him.

“Touch me,” he groaned. “Anywhere. I don’t care. Just touch me.”

With trembling hands, Anduin put one hand on Wrathion’s chest, and let the other slide between them to his clit, rubbing and tugging at it tentatively. “Harder,” Wrathion rasped out, then moaned as Anduin did as he commanded, increasing the pressure and just holding on as long as he could.

Sadly, it didn’t take long at all, especially given the way Wrathion dug his claws into Anduin’s shoulders every time he pulled himself forward for a thrust. The king was only able to get out a quick warning before he finished, lost in a red and brimstone and heat until his conscious mind came back to him and Wrathion was draped over him, nuzzling his neck.

“S-Sorry,” he mumbled. “It was my first time.”

Wrathion snickered and nipped softly at his jaw. “Mine too.”

“Really?” Anduin laughed while his lovers claws traced little possessive circles on his skin. “You… certainly knew what you were doing.”

“Spending time around rogues and reading about corruption does have a few perks - most notably the erotica,” he teased. “You weren’t half-bad yourself.”

“Let’s just say anatomy was a large part of learning to heal properly, and I was a… most diligent student,” Anduin blushed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more thankful for your probity.”

He leaned his head against Wrathion’s, and whispered, “Will you stay?”

The dragon’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “Will you have me?”

“As long as you’ll let me.”

Wrathion grinned wickedly. “Genn’s going to hate it.”

Anduin laughed. “I already agreed. You don’t have to convince me further.”

They laughed together, a real laugh, that seemed to dispel the last traces of fear and anxiety between them.

“So,” Anduin asked. “What now?”

“Give me a few minutes to catch my breath,” Wrathion winked, “then we take it from the top.”