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Karazhan's library lay in shambles, and Khadgar stood at the epicenter of it, looking at the toppled stacks with a resigned sort of defeat. "I had a system," he said mournfully to the air, and plucked up the emptied cover of a book of poetry, one sad, lonely dedication page fluttering to the floor. Khadgar sighed, tossed the book to the side, and wandered down the nearest aisle, reading the titles of the books that remained in their places.


His footsteps echoed in the stillness; he dragged his fingertips along the bookshelves as he went, sending up eddies of dust both arcane and mundane. He held his hand up to his eyes, rubbed his fingertips together and watched the impotent sparks of magic the friction struck up. When he looked up, he saw his younger self, pinned like a butterfly on a page, squirming and struggling against a place where a bookshelf must have once stood.


"Who are you? What are you doing here?"


Khadgar turned slowly on his heel until he was facing the ghostly image of his Master. Behind him, his own voice gasped out a stuttered explanation, but Khadgar could not bring himself to look away from Medivh's face. He couldn't remember now if he had noticed, when he was younger, the brief look of terror on that face as Medivh lifted his spell. If he had noticed then how tired his master had always looked, or if it was a detail his mind had filled in afterwards, when he had learned the truth.


Medivh started forwards to help the shade of his apprentice up off the floor, and vanished like a whisp of smoke when he touched present-day Khadgar, the echo of his footfalls ringing in Khadgar's ears. For a moment, Khadgar stood frozen - then he let out a slow breath, tension bleeding out of him, and glared ruefully at the toppled bookcase near where the vision of his younger self had been pinned.


"Best check if we're alone, I suppose," he said, to Karazhan in general. "No repeats of last time."


It was unlikely they would be truly alone, of course. Karazhan was many things, but it was rarely empty. Still, it never hurt to look in on the phantoms lurking in the shadows.


 

Scouring the tower for invaders took longer than Khadgar would have cared for - every room held a ghost of the past, and Khadgar couldn't bring himself to look away from them. Karazhan had always given up its visions freely, but Khadgar's return seemed to have given something of a pointed quality to them - Khadgar watched his apprenticeship play out in ghostly detail, observing past events with new eyes, focused intently on the slow breaking of the Lord Magus at his most vulnerable. The way the shadows around his eyes grew steadily deeper; how his movement became stiff and tortured, as if he were fighting for every inch of freedom; the creeping horror that drained from his eyes, replaced by something dark and hungry.


He was emerging from the ballroom when he heard Moroes' voice.


"Your apprentice has fled, sir," he said as Khadgar turned to watch.


Medivh stood with his back to them both. "I'm aware," he said, in a tone of voice that sent chills down Khadgar's spine. When he turned, there were tears tracking down his cheeks.


"No," Khadgar said weakly, suddenly seventeen again and more terrified than he had ever been. "No, I don't want to see this - "


"Master?" said Moroes.


"Moroes," whispered Medivh, and surged forward, wreathed in emerald flames.


The vision dissipated in a flash of green, and Khadgar stumbled back with a cry, shaking in a confused mess of grief and anger and fear. He lifted a trembling hand to his eyes and pressed against his eyelids until the afterimage of felfire was gone.


 

True sunsets were uncommon in Deadwind Pass; far more often the sky simply became darker and darker shades of grey until it was entirely black. Tonight, though, the sun had broken free of the haze just in time to give the western rooms of the tower a deep, blood-soaked look.


It was, Khadgar thought, the kind of literary drama Medivh would have approved of.


Khadgar was ascending the spiral staircase to Medivh's chambers without any particular goal in mind. He doubted there would be much left of any value there - it would have been taken long ago by scavengers - and the Library was far more likely to contain whatever knowledge Khadgar had hoped to seek out by coming here. Still, with the bloody sunset pooling in long strips below the windows, and the vision of Moroes' death still burning in his brain, Khadgar found himself hoping his master's chambers would be, if not a comfort, at least quieter than the lower levels, fewer miserable memories seeping from the stone.


A hope that was spectacularly dashed when he entered the rooms in question and found a fire crackling merrily in the hearth. Immediately, Khadgar wrapped himself in an invisibility spell, sketching protective runes in the air as he began to inch further into the room, easing the door soundlessly shut behind him as he went.


Medivh's chambers were large and open, full of an uncomfortable abundance of hiding places, most of which would have a clear view of the door Khadgar had entered through. Khadgar pressed himself back against a wall and began slowly traversing the outer perimeter, eyes sweeping the room for any sign of life.


Above him, in the loft of the observatory, there was movement, then the sound of muffled cursing; Khadgar pressed himself into the shadow of a bookshelf and watched as someone - possibly something, though he couldn't be certain - descended the stairwell into the main chamber, muttering to themselves.


The cowled figure leaned over a table, facing away from Khadgar, apparently examining something intently. It lifted a gloved hand and gestured at the fire; it sparked and roared, growing brighter. This was no echo, then, but something flesh and bone - or at least, something that existed quite firmly in the present. Khadgar edged closer, Atiesh held ready.


"Scoundrels," the figure groused, and Khadgar froze. "Thieving Kirin Tor imbeciles..."


Khadgar lowered Atiesh, starting forward hesitantly. It couldn't be -


"Do you think," said the figure, irritably, "that I don't know you're here?"


Khadgar had time to get out one syllable - "Wait - !" - before he was slammed bodily against the far wall, gasping futilely against the wave of pressure against his chest. His invisibility spell had been ripped away. "Medivh - " he managed. He was dizzy with déjà vu, or possibly lack of oxygen. Definitely one of the two.


"Khadgar!" The pressure vanished from his chest and Khadgar dropped gracelessly to the floor, sucking in heaving breaths. Medivh hauled him upright, holding him steady when he swayed. "I'm so sorry, lad, I thought you were - "


"A thief?" Khadgar finished, coughing. "So I gathered. I'm too old for that trick, now, Medivh."


Medivh let out a short laugh. "Just like old times," he said. "It's good to see you."


"Medivh," Khadgar said; the rest of his sentence died before he spoke it. How many times had he wondered what he would say, if he were to meet Medivh once more, himself and whole? Now, with Medivh's hand warm on his shoulder, he found himself at a loss for words. Instead he closed his hand over Medivh's to test its corporeality, glanced downwards to stare at Medivh's singular shadow. "I've missed you," he finally said; that, after all, was the truest and simplest and easiest to speak, of everything Khadgar had contemplated for long years.


He looked up from Medivh's shadow to meet his eyes once more, taking a decorous step backwards; Medivh pulled his hand away to let him go, and Khadgar wanted to protest, to cling to him, but restrained himself.


"You look exhausted, Young Trust," Medivh said, not unkindly. "Have you been taking proper care of yourself?"


Khadgar shook his head. "It has been a...a trying day," he said. "I've been reinforcing the tower's wards, and...and searching for, uh..." He gestured, his mouth twisting wryly. "Houseguests," he said diplomatically.


"And instead you found me," Medivh said. "Where haven't you searched yet?"


"Just here," Khadgar said, "and...below."


"Well then," Medivh said, swirling his cloak dramatically around himself as he started for the door, "let's get going. I'll double check your work on the way down."


Khadgar bristled slightly. "I am an archmage of the Kirin Tor," he protested, following the long sweep of Medivh's cape down the curving spiral staircase. "I'm more than capable - "


"A second set of eyes never hurt anyone, Young Trust," Medivh called over his shoulder.


"Should I check your enchantments, then, master?"


"Mine?" Medivh asked, pausing. Then: "No. My wards are impeccable. Quickly, Khadgar, we're burning daylight!"


Whatever echoes had haunted Khadgar during his ascent of the tower were dormant during the descent, either spent or banished by the presence of Karazhan's master, Khadgar wasn't sure. Still, they didn't move much quicker, as Medivh would pause at each floor to test Khadgar's wards and offer his opinions.


("You've improved since we last spoke," he said, testing the weave of Khadgar's magic along one walkway.


"I did learn from the best," Khadgar said, and waited a beat to watch Medivh preen before continuing, "Antonidas gave me a few pointers - " He couldn't finish his sentence, breaking into laughter at the offended glare Medivh shot him.)


The door to the catacombs below was still hidden, mostly, though it appeared easily enough at Medivh's touch. He hesitated, long fingers hovering over the latch; Khadgar laid a tentative hand on his shoulder.


"Perhaps it would be best to simply lock it up," he said. "Let whatever might be down there lie."


Medivh threw the door open. "No," he said, "you were right the first time." He patted Khadgar's hand absently before heading down into the depths, swallowed quickly by shadows; Khadgar hurried after him, worried of losing him in the darkness.


At the foot of the stairs, Medivh tossed an orb of magelight into the air, illuminating the cold and windowless labyrinth they found themselves in. It reeked of rot, and dust, and unsavory magic, a heavy stench that caught in the back of one's throat and settled like a film on the tongue. Medivh glared at his surroundings as if they had offended him. "We'll seal this place when we're finished," he said, sweeping forward. "I can't imagine there's anything here worth saving."


Khadgar had expected ghosts, angry spirits - they would have been almost welcome, if only to break up the terrible, oppressive monotony, the banal unpleasantness that lingered in the catacombs. But there was nothing, and the maze of hallways and stairwells was still and silent. Perhaps adventurers actually had laid all of Karazhan's ghosts to rest. Or perhaps anything that was still down here was afraid of Medivh, striding confidently through the labyrinth and muttering darkly under his breath, all swirling robes and sparking magic.


"I don't remember this place," Medivh said suddenly, stopping short at an intersection. He didn't turn to look at Khadgar as he spoke, but Khadgar could envision the look on his face, the stormy frown gathering on his brow. "I know the way. I know where everything is. But it's as if..." He trailed off, then turned and started down the left hallway without another word, trusting Khadgar to follow him.


"Perhaps that's for the best," Khadgar said, after it became clear Medivh had no intention of finishing his thought. "This place - "


Suddenly, Medivh seized his arm and threw him backwards, behind him, magic sparking along his fingertips. Then he froze, his spell fizzling out without being cast. "Oh," he said faintly.


Khadgar regained his balance and turned, just in time to see Anduin Lothar falling in flames, his scream muted and distant. (Khadgar remembered it sharply enough, and heard it in his mind, clear as a bell.) "Should have worn blinders," Khadgar heard himself saying; Medivh gave no indication he had heard. He watched that final confrontation play out, his shoulders tensing with each blow he struck against his friends. Khadgar turned away as the shade of his past self lurched forward, blade in hand, unwilling to watch that final moment. (He felt it often enough in his dreams, the sickening give of flesh and bone beneath a blade he barely knew how to hold properly; sometimes in his dreams, Medivh didn't die and Khadgar had to try again and again, until he was a mess of gore and viscera, still alive in spite of all logic or reason, demanding to know why Khadgar couldn't even save him with a clean death, if he couldn't manage to save him properly - )


Khadgar was yanked from his musings when Medivh let out a shuddering sigh, finally falling out of his defensive posture. He looked diminished, somehow, made smaller by Karazhan's most unforgiving specters. "I don't recall that I ever thanked you," he said, staring at a fixed point somewhere ahead of him.


"Don't," Khadgar said. "Oh, Medivh, don't thank me for that. Please." He circled around to face Medivh head on, ducking to force Medivh to meet his eyes. Medivh arched an eyebrow at him, lips quirking in a humorless grin. "There's nothing but bad memories in this place. We should leave and seal it away," Khadgar said, straightening. "You were right, there's nothing here worth saving. Let it all rot."


Medivh nodded, and, before Khadgar fully processed what he planned on doing, wrapped an arm around his waist to teleport them both above ground, back to the entryhall in a flash of light. Khadgar stood stiffly in the circle of Medivh's arms, stunned mostly by the contact, partly by the sudden teleportation. Medivh bowed his head, briefly resting their foreheads together. "I am glad to see you again," he said, his voice full and soft and genuine, and Khadgar felt himself grow warm. Then Medivh was pulling away, tugging up his sleeves and sketching runes into the air. "Go rest," he said, focusing his attention entirely on his spell.


"The guest chambers are uninhabitable - " Khadgar started, stepping forward to offer his assistance in locking away the catacombs.


"And my chambers are perfectly serviceable," Medivh said. He glanced at Khadgar out of the corner of his eye, frowned briefly, and snatched Atiesh from his grasp, effortlessly spinning it into his pool of magic, as if it had never left his side. "You've spent all day warding the tower, after traveling who knows how long to get here, and I can tell," he continued, raising his voice when Khadgar began to protest, "that you haven't been sleeping properly anyway, so go. You have earned a decent rest."


"But - "


Medivh huffed, spun on his heel, and rapped Khadgar hard on the head with Atiesh. When Khadgar opened his eyes next, he was in Medivh's chambers. He sighed heavily and prodded at the growing bruise on his head. "That was entirely unnecessary," he groused, but he set about tending to the dying fire rather than go back downstairs.


 

When Khadgar awoke, it took him a moment to realize where he was, his mind shuffling sluggishly through his options as he blinked sleep from his eyes. It wasn't until he saw Medivh stoking the fire that he remembered he had dozed off in the armchair by the hearth. He had only intended to sit for a moment, until Medivh returned, but he had apparently been more tired than he had thought.


Medivh had stripped off his cloak, mantle, and boots, and set Atiesh to lean against the wall, his hair unbound from its usual plait. When he turned to see Khadgar watching him, his lips quirked into not-quite a smile. "Oh, good, now I won't have to carry you to bed," he said.


"Carry me?" Khadgar snorted. He sat up and winced as his neck popped loudly. "I think we're well beyond that point," he said, resettling himself in his armchair, leaning his head on his hand to regard Medivh fondly.


"Levitate you, then," Medivh said. "You're all right, aren't you?" he added, after a pause.


Khadgar reached out to take Medivh's hand. "I'm fine," he said, stroking a thumb along the back of Medivh's hand. "And you...?"


"Never better," Medivh said dryly. He knelt before Khadgar's chair, watching Khadgar's fingertips play over his knuckles. "I am sorry - " he began.


Khadgar leaned forward and kissed him, chaste and soft, swallowing whatever apology had been on his lips. Medivh's eyes fluttered shut, his fingers interlocking neatly with Khadgar's, a soft noise escaping his throat. His free hand came up to brush along Khadgar's cheekbone, feather-light, and Khadgar broke the kiss with a shuddering sigh, leaning into the touch, watching Medivh through half-lidded eyes.


"I've wanted to do that for..." He shivered as Medivh passed a thumb over his lower lip. "...a very long time," he finished in one breath.


"And a fine job of hiding it you did," Medivh said, his voice heavy with the kind of solemnity that could only be facetious.


Once Khadgar would have been mortified to think his master knew of his infatuation. Perhaps it was dishonest to suggest he wasn't still, slightly, but Medivh had inched closer to press a hesitant kiss to the corner of his mouth, and it was hard to focus on anything other than that.


Medivh pulled back onto his heels, his eyes gleaming in the low firelight. "You're meant to be resting," he admonished. His hands roamed, tracing distracting patterns in the fabric of Khadgar's robes.


"I'm resting," Khadgar protested. "Look, I'm sitting and - " His sentence died in garbled nonsense as Medivh slipped one hand beneath his robes, while the other began tugging at the clasp of his mantle. He kept his eyes locked on Khadgar's face, wide and curious, as if he were completely absorbed in whatever Khadgar was saying. "I'm incredibly relaxed," Khadgar said faintly, and then jolted when Medivh's fingertips found the bare skin of his thigh.


"Of course," Medivh said. He examined the buckles and straps of Khadgar's robes, hummed thoughtfully to himself, then snapped his fingers; Khadgar found himself still, arguably, clothed, in the loosest sense of the word, but exposed and growing moreso as Medivh brushed aside whatever parts of his outfit had not simply fallen away when he'd undone their clasps.


"Medivh - " Khadgar said, strangled, then cleared his throat and tried again. "Are you going to let me return the favor?" he asked, his voice catching slightly as Medivh stroked over his hip.


"No," the magus replied simply. His fingers worked their cartography over Khadgar's skin, tracing over scars and curves before lightly circling his cock, still soft but stirring with interest. The muscles of his thighs jumped when Medivh bowed his head to take Khadgar's cock between his lips, and Khadgar tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling, breath hitching.


Medivh sank down on Khadgar's cock, burying his nose in his pubic hair, swirling his tongue and humming something tuneless under his breath. One hand came up to palm over the curve of Khadgar's hip, the fingers of the other curling around the base of his cock, squeezing in slow counterpoint to Medivh's tongue.


"You've always had a clever mouth," Khadgar gasped, his hands fisting against the arms of his chair.


Medivh arched an eyebrow and, torturously, tragically slowly, pulled off Khadgar's prick, regarding him thoughtfully. "My dear Young Trust," he said, "if I were you, I would hardly want to interrupt me, at the moment."


"Yes sir," Khadgar replied. "Apologies, Master Medivh, sir."


Medivh rolled his eyes before bowing his head once more. Khadgar was fully hard now, and Medivh couldn't swallow him with the same ease, his throat constricting hotly around the head of Khadgar's cock. Medivh pressed his tongue to the underside of Khadgar's prick, then swirled it around the head, then pressed his fingers to the soft skin behind his balls. Every movement was deliberate and methodical, a brief pause after each experiment to catalogue the way Khadgar reacted, the movement of his hips, the tenor of his moans. Medivh was rubbing circles against Khadgar's hole, his fingers slicked with oil summoned from thin air, when Khadgar finally begged.


"Medivh," he said, his voice wavering wildly. "Light - please, please - "


Medivh pulled back with a faint pop, holding Khadgar's gaze as he delicately pressed the pad of his thumb against his hole, then inside, just barely, just enough to tease. "Could you cast like this?" he asked, his tone light and curious, almost absently so. He pushed in deeper as he spoke, twisting his finger slightly.


Khadgar blinked at him, trying to summon up an eloquent retort. "What," he finally managed.


Medivh smirked. "It's important," he said, "to be able to focus through physical distractions." He cradled Khadgar's cock and licked a filthy stripe up the back of it, his eyes locked on Khadgar's face. Khadgar squirmed in his seat, then unclenched one of his fists from the arm of the chair, held out his hand, and ignited a small orb of fire above his upturned palm. Medivh smiled wickedly. "Good boy," he said. He pulled his thumb out of Khadgar, replaced it with his first two fingers, easing inside in agonizing increments, massaging gently at soft flesh. "Stay just like that." He pressed a kiss, absurd in its chastity, to the head of Khadgar's dripping cock before taking it into his mouth once again.


Khadgar arched his back, the flame in his palm shivering as he struggled to concentrate. Light, casting drunk was nothing compared to this. This was torture. The fire popping in his hand wanted nothing more than to explode, engulf the entire top of the tower in devouring heat, to burn with the same intensity that hummed along Khadgar's nerves. Medivh crooked his fingers and the fire crackled dangerously, sending sparks towards the ceiling.


"Please, Medivh, please - I need - I can't - "


"You can," Medivh murmured. He kept his lips pressed to Khadgar's skin, let his words vibrate up his spine.


"I'm going to set this room on fire," Khadgar hissed.


"You won't." He pulled his fingers out; rubbed maddeningly against Khadgar's hole; eased them back into him, slow and slick.


Khadgar fell back and writhed against the lush fabric of the armchair, gritting his teeth and refusing to look at Medivh between his legs. His cock throbbed, twitching at each teasing brush of Medivh's lips.


Just when he started to think he truly couldn't stand anymore, Medivh gave him one long, smooth stroke, murmured, "Now - " and sealed his lips over the head of his prick.


Khadgar just managed to toss his fireball into the hearth, where it exploded rather spectacularly, before he came, moaning and curling over Medivh, pulling him upwards to press a slack-lipped kiss to his mouth. He collapsed backwards, boneless, and Medivh smirked up at him as he sat back on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He stood, stretched luxuriously, and turned to examine the soot stains spiking out from the fireplace.


"Well done, Young Trust," he said, swiping a finger along the blackened hearth. "Very impressive."


Khadgar grunted and pressed his palms into his eyes. "I could say the same to you," he said, when he had mastered his tongue again. He lowered his hands, stood, wandered over to Medivh to pull him back into another kiss, slow and unhurried. His fingers brushed along Medivh's belt, intent on returning the favor, but Medivh caught his wrist.


"No need," he said. He lifted Khadgar's hand to his lips, pressed a kiss to his palm. "You're meant to be resting," he chided again. "Go. I'll join you, soon."


Khadgar thought of protesting, but he couldn't honestly say he wasn't tired, in a way that had settled in his bones during the years-long battle against the Burning Legion. And there was still so much to do, so much to worry about - but Medivh was here, now. They would worry together, now.


"Don't be too long," Khadgar said instead, and folded his abandoned clothes with a flick of his wrist before finally crossing the room to collapse into bed.


 

Exhausted as he was, Khadgar was still a light sleeper. His eyes snapped open, his heart racing, and it took him a moment to realize why: Medivh had sat at the foot of the bed, back to Khadgar, his fingers plucking absently at the ties of his shirt. Khadgar sank back and watched, his heart rate slowing back into something reasonable.


Medivh pulled his shirt over his head; Khadgar made a small, despairing noise in the back of his throat and sat up, reached for him, pausing with his hand hovering inches from Medivh's back. Medivh glanced over his shoulder at him, his face shadowed in the dying firelight. "Of course you're awake," he sighed, a touch of accusation in his voice. He turned more fully; the low firelight caught in the white scar tissue, made it glow opalescent. One ringed around Medivh's throat, thin and jagged; the other was over his heart, cleaner but starker, less faded.


"Oh, Medivh," Khadgar said. "Is this why you wouldn't let me undress you?"


"I thought they might...upset you."


Khadgar inched closer, splayed his palm over the scar on Medivh's chest, over his heart, over the scar his own hand had inflicted. "I only wish you didn't have them," he said. He brushed his lips over Medivh's throat. "Come to bed," he murmured. His hands roamed, tracing over Medivh's chest, along his jawline, sinking into his hair.


Medivh shivered under his touch, tilting his head into Khadgar's hands. He nodded, wordless, and Khadgar pulled him down on top of him, kissing his mouth firmly, stroking a hand along his spine, counting his vertebrae. Medivh broke the kiss to pant, open-mouthed, into Khadgar's shoulder; Khadgar shifted to press a thigh between his legs, and he rolled his hips.


How the tables turn, Khadgar thought, as he removed what remained of Medivh's clothes with a flick of his wrist. He shifted against him, parted his legs to allow Medivh's hand to press between them, find him still slick with oil. "Please," he said, the word snapping into two syllables as Medivh eased a fingertip inside him.


Medivh laughed against the bare skin of his shoulder. "Are you so insatiable at your age? And you complained when I pinned you, earlier."


"That was much less enjoyable," Khadgar said, stretching languidly. He tangled a hand in Medivh's hair again, scratching at his scalp and watching his emerald eyes slip closed in contentment. "Next time I'll pin you to a wall and see how much you like it."


Medivh slit open one eye. "Careful, Young Trust - I just might." He grinned wickedly at Khadgar's expression, closing his eyes once more to luxuriate in Khadgar's affection. "Another day," he said, more quietly, and settled on the mattress behind Khadgar, pressing along the length of his body. He wrapped an arm around Khadgar's chest, his hand coming to rest just beneath his jaw, the backs of his fingers sending sparks along Khadgar's skin that could have been real or imagined. He tilted his head back, bared his throat to Medivh's feather-light touches, humming contentedly as he felt Medivh's cock twitching to hardness against him.


Medivh's free hand curled loosely around Khadgar's prick, soft and sensitive, and he writhed against him. Khadgar reached backwards to grip Medivh's hip, guiding him forwards until the head of his cock nudged against him.


Medivh paused, his lips brushing the shell of Khadgar's ear as he murmured, "You're sure?"


Khadgar nodded, then hissed slightly when Medivh pressed harder against him.


He pressed forward slowly, sinking into Khadgar by inches, peppering his jawline with kisses and murmured encouragement as he went. Khadgar arched against him, his body still loose with orgasm but starting to shiver with overstimulation; Medivh slid his fingers along the length of his cock, cupped him gently in his palm, his eyes fixed on Khadgar's face. "You're doing so well," he whispered, and Khadgar moaned.


When Medivh was sheathed fully inside him, he rolled his hips, just slightly, pressing his body flush against Khadgar's back. He set a languid pace, unhurried and indulgent, one hand absently fondling Khadgar's soft cock, the other tracing meaningless patterns on his skin. Khadgar let his eyes flutter shut, his lips parting, his body humming with the pleasant sensation of being filled, just this side of being too much. It almost hurt, low in his stomach, a low, throbbing pulse of overtaxed nerves - almost pain, almost pleasure, a sensation hovering in a grey area, and Khadgar wanted to sink deeper into it, arching back against Medivh and shuddering.  


"Khadgar," Medivh gasped in his ear; Khadgar bit his lip to keep from moaning, a jolt running through him to hear Medivh's composure so far gone. Medivh's hand went to his hip, gripped him tight enough that Khadgar wondered if - hoped that - he would leave fingerprints. Medivh ground against him, a tremor running down his spine; Khadgar pulled his free hand to his mouth, pressed a biting kiss to the inside of his wrist, murmured his name against the blue of his veins.


Medivh came with a shuddering cry, curling around Khadgar and burying his face in his hair, holding him close. He remained that way for some time, his breathing gradually slowing, his hands loosening in their death grip to run soothingly over where they may have left bruises.


"I'm meant to be resting," Khadgar said, when Medivh fell away from him to collapse onto his back.


Medivh waved a dismissive hand in his general direction. "Entirely overrated," he said. "Come here," he added, the imperious note of command in his tone familiar and endearing. Khadgar went, sitting up on one arm and smoothing Medivh's hair out of his face with the other. "You intend to stay?" Medivh asked, closing his eyes as Khadgar ran his fingers through his hair. Khadgar was reminded of when they had first met, and he had thought of Medivh as some great feline predator. He mentally amended that to housecat, and a spoiled one at that.


"Yes," Khadgar said. "If you'll have me."


"Twice tonight," Medivh agreed. Khadgar snorted. "Karazhan will always welcome you home, Young Trust," he added, more softly.

 

"It certainly has an unorthodox way of being welcoming," Khadgar said, stretching out alongside Medivh, reveling in the loose, buzzing warmth that had settled over him. "Still, though. It's good to be back."