angryfistofgod | OPEN POST

"I think, Llane, that your plan is perfect. I also think you need to relax and stop thinking for two minutes and just let me take care of you."

Lothar isn't usually so overt about these things but sometimes, with Llane, overt was needed. Sometimes he just has to tell his friend what he needs, just like Llane has to tell him what he needs, and they have to take care of one another. Llane is going to worry himself nonstop about keeping his kingdom safe. It's what kind of man he is and what makes him a good king.

Lothar isn't so noble. He's worried more about Llane than he is about Westfall or Elwynn or any of it. Right now, he wants to see the tension ease and the brow relax. He lowers his hand a bit, rubbing lower on Llane's back. "Relax, Llane."

Llane took a deep breath as Lothar told him he was to allow Lothar to take care of him, put his hand upon the small of his back and repeated to him that he needed to relax. Eyes closed and he exhaled slowly, only opening when he had felt he could somewhat give Lothar more than the worried glance of a king and more the crooked smile of an indignant friend being bullied into stopping whatever he was doing.

"Relaxing is for people who don't have the people's safety resting squarely on his shoulders," he murmured impudently, though he did not venture to remove the hand or move away. "I suppose that would be why you're here, though."

He chuckled tiredly, turning to face his friend and forgo any trivial dancing around it by moving to tuck himself against Lothar's side. He gave a brief, hesitant murmur of a sound and took it upon himself to hook his chin over Lothar's shoulder, resting there.

"If I'm back in here after you're done forcing me to relax, you realize Taria will yell at one of us. Preferably you. I have some face to save," he finally settled on, snorting loudly and stifling one of the first laughs he's had in a while.

"Taria's scarier than I am," Lothar says easily enough. There's a reason that he doesn't like to cross his sister and he's glad that he and Llane are of one mind when it comes to that. Still, Taria isn't involved in this. Their relationship is complicated at best, a triangle with equilateral sides, and Lothar wouldn't dare impede on the aspects of Llane's life that Taria fills. There are roles in Llane's life that he can never fulfill, things he can never satisfy, and Lothar is fine with this. He knows his place. His place is, as always, in service of his king and now that service comes in the form of comfort and release.

He ghosts a hand over Llane's hair, petting it lightly, before tipping his face up to look into it. He's a bit shorter than he is, always has been, and it comes to his advantage now. "Come to bed with me for a while, Llane. We'll forget about all this, all right?"

"I don't have much of a choice, now do I?"

He meets Lothar's gaze, smile gentled and only slightly crooked. He doesn't mind, truly, not in the way he would be with anyone other than his friend had come to pull him from his mulling over the war-board. He undoubtedly would have sent them packing and been in a fouler mood than the warmth that had crept into his expression as he just watches the general.

He's weak to the Lothar siblings and he's aware of it. Medivh, too, could probably draw him from the board with other methods. Medivh's way would not also offer such a nice form of relaxation, however. Yet, before this war had broken out across his lands, they had not heard from Medivh for six years. He remembers that Anduin had tried to draw correspondences from their mage, but had little luck doing it.

Llane allows himself a few minutes to think of how their friend has changed, but he draws his attention back into the moment. Medivh was not here and it was Anduin who was asked to come gather him, to help his king destress and refocus. It would also provide him with a brief respite that would allow him to come at the board with new eyes for it.

"Despite not having a choice," he lifted himself up to press his forehead to the others, "fine, help your king forget for a while."

Edited 2016-10-23 00:55 (UTC)

Lothar has always had his own rooms within Llane's castle and has since he was old enough to remember. It's those rooms that he leads them to now, unafraid of brushing his hand against the other man's or using the same hand against the small of his back as they climb the tower stairs.

Lothar's chambers are a warrior's chambers - severe and austere, meant for sleep and little else. They're meant only for a brief respite before going back into the fray and he's never been the sort to be overly sentimental. He doesn't leave much of himself in them, really, unless you count weapons, and it's his personality that fills the space much more than his hangings or his furniture. He quirks his lips in a half smile and nudges Llane toward the bed.

"Down, you. Your back and shoulders feel like you've been bearing the entire world on them. I might be an old warrior but I know a few things about how to fix that."

"Are you ordering your king, Anduin?" Llane quips, though he does move to kneel on the bed so he could begin to unwrap himself from his shirt and only pauses briefly to remove the heavy crown from his head and set it aside with surprising care. His brown eyes meet the warrior's and then sighs softly, then returns to removing his top layers.

His hands feel heavy by the time he finishes removing the multiple layers of rich fabric and despite everything, the king was relaxing even by this little bit of focused attention. He supposed it was just him being around the Lion of Stormwind, one of his best friends and confidant. Anduin would take care of him, he knew that like it was breathing, just as sure of a thing as he knew that the care would be returned unrepentantly when it was needed.

Llane shifted towards the edge of the bed, reaching a hand out to the other. "Come here, Anduin," he ordered, though his tones were not ordering and the smile he wore was still tired. "Please." He adds as an after thought, blowing a wavy lock of hair that fell into his face as he shifted to wriggle his fingers temptingly at the warrior.

When they're like this, it's a little easier to remember that Llane is his friend and not necessarily just his king. Lothar draws closer to him, craving his touch, and gives him an enigmatic little smile.

Even after all this time, even after two marriages and wars and years between them this pull remains precisely the same. He wonders if it's the same for Llane.

"Yes? You know that I would do anything for you, Llane. Just say the word."

Nothing quite compared to how Llane felt about his friend, it was unlike what he felt for the other's sister - unadulterated love, want and need, almost worshipful in her each and every movement. No, Llane dared not put words to it, but it was there and it did overtake him sometimes.

Llane would never admit to being distracted by Anduin in simple activities, not directly to the man - but Taria teased him the moments when she caught him. Called herself lucky that they loved the women in their lives - or had been, in Lothar's case and did not find themselves enamoured with only each other. Llane never thought himself enamored with the earth he stood on, but he always knew he needed it.

When Lothar was within reach, the king rearranged himself to allow himself to pull the warrior between his legs and rest his head along the other's ribs. Leather creaked under his grip and it was hard to keep hold directly on top of the fabric so he snuck his hands just under his shirt and held corded muscles instead.

Anything he wanted, that's what he was told and Llane drew blanks at what to ask from his dark haired friend. He could ask for things he knew Anduin could do for him; to protect his kingdom, to reassure him that the world would not collapse around him if he allows himself rest or promise him that he would be there in the morning - any morning and never waver. But, he found himself wanting to ask him of things that were out of the man's control. He wanted him to promise him that this would all blow over with no more casualties, that there was an easy way of handling it and that those beasts would leave and go back to wherever they came from.

Instead, he grips the other a little tighter and whispers, "please." He repeated that word once more and finally, finally allows himself to let his shoulders slump. He is weary, his bones are tired and he knows there is no real end in sight.

By the Light, he doesn't even have any idea what he's asking of Anduin with those whispered words. He finds he doesn't really mind not knowing, Anduin would figure it out for him and it brings a soft laugh from deep within his chest bubbling to the surface. It's muffled, but he doesn't mind.

He closes his brown eyes, allowing his hands to gently skim up the other's sides and bringing them down and out from under the layers of fabric and leather. His head pulls back and he cranes his neck so he is able to look the warrior in the eye when his open.

"Just that, please."

"If it means you'll stop thinking for a while and let me take care of you, I'll give you anything you want."

Before he had been with girls, there had been Llane. Llane has always been a constant in his life when other things have ebbed and flowed and there's a pull between them that Lothar has long since stopped trying to define. It's simply there, a tether between them, and it grounds him; he hopes it does the same for Llane.

He shifts a little, enough so he can look Llane in the eyes, and Lothar cups his face between both his hands. They're older now but Llane's face is still the one he fell in love with all those years ago.

Without saying anything, he leans in to kiss him, lips soft against Llane's and calloused fingertips stroking the other man's skin.

"I thought that was implied," Llane gently teased, leaning into one of the hands that cupped his face. It was warm, just like any part of Anduin was and he adored it. The certainty that the heat brought him.

He didn't resist as his head was tilted up and briefly stared up at his friend like he was one of a few stars in the sky. Adoring was something it could be considered, but moreso it was trusting.

Llane thought he was a good King, one that earned the loyalty of his lands people and more importantly, the loyalty of the Lion of Stormwind. Many times he had driven the man to wanting to tug his hair out by the roots, he was sure of it, others worried him. Lothar was worried now, he supposed and he knew just allowing the warrior to take full responsibility for him for the next few hours would be the best way to soothe it.

Soft lips met his and his thoughts broke into little pieces, while those warrior's hands stroked their digits across his skin. It set his tense nerves off into fireworks and had him sweetly humming his approval of just that simple thing.

"More of that," he murmurs against the other's mouth, "definitely more of that."

"Only if you promise to set down your burdens and let others carry them for a little while," Lothar warns him, the kiss getting a little deeper, a little harsher. He's never exactly gentle with Llane, in spite of him being his king, if only because their friendship transcends any titles or class divisions. It's something that is there beyond all of that, something that's always been there.

Lothar only wants Llane to be happy, to be less stressed and that is his goal as his fingers gently work at knotted muscle and his lips and tongue meet Llane's in the kiss; he isn't shy or coy about it, he's direct, and he's never been anything but direct in this.

Words had been on the tip of his tongue and they are swallowed as Lothar presses in harsher, it makes his worries give him a wider berth and breath catch. Wonderful, he thinks, Lothar had a talented mouth. He pushes away from the kiss to pant open mouthed for a few seconds. His tongue draws a line over his bottom lip and his eyes shut for a few seconds to enjoy the kneading of his knotted muscles.

Llane eventually tilted his head back once more, staring up at Anduin for a second before he laughs and allows himself to fall flat on the bed. He hits the mattress with a few bounces and carefully lifted himself onto his elbows.

"You're over dressed," Llane tells him, hooking a foot behind one of his friends knee, "I don't think you can take care of me in full leathers, Anduin." He's teasing, of course he is, but he is also honest. He felt underdressed with thr luxurious fabrics he usually wore discarded and the weight of his crown not atop his head, but he knows he truly has no reason to feel that way.

Lothar never truly saw just those things, the fact that he was king never mattered to him and he had always been an equal to him. Maybe an equal that made the other want to tear his hair out at some points, but still just that.

"I have before and I can now," Lothar counters, giving him a mock-stern look. While he has every intention of stripping from his clothes in a moment he wants a chance to look at Llane while he's being light-hearted,while those eyes are alight with mirth.

"I should go first," Lothar says, pulling away and starting to work on pulling off all the myriad pieces of his armor. It's a ritual in and of itself, undressing, and intimate in its own way to let Llane watch it.

"But you will not this time," Llane replies, returning the mock-stern look with a brow lifted high on his forehead and the upward twitch of his lip. A little smugness never hurt in these situations, especially as Anduin stepped back and began removing the hardened leathers.

His fingers itched to reach out and busy his hands with the draw strings of the warrior's breeches, but the king kept them to himself. He pressed them to the fabric of the bed, flexing them to soothe the urge that nagged at him.

"You are such a sight, Anduin," Llane praised out of nowhere, voice gaining a teasing tone, "I would order you to go shirtless if I thought you would actually heed it." King Llane smirked openly that time, brows wagging as his hands properly knotted into the bedding. He admired the view he was being given either way, as both of the Lothar siblings were gorgeous and Llane was unashamed of his blatant approval of watching either of them disrobe in front of him. However, he would never think of letting anyone see what laid beneath the dresses Taria wore.

"I wouldn't listen," Lothar points out. His trousers are slung low on his hips and he's halfway through unlacing them, fingers tripping over the knots for a moment; Llane's caught him by surprise with his admiration and he's caught unawares.

"I never listen unless I think it's my idea, anyway, and the only reason we manage to get along as well as we do is that we usually have the same damn stubborn ideas."

It's not exactly true. Llane is his king and he would heed an order from him, up to and including his life, but it's something that Lothar keeps close to the chest. He doesn't want it exploited by an enemy.

"Yet, you're doing exactly what I asked. My idea." He let himself look blatantly smug, but affectionate, up at the other. Of course, there was truth in Lothar's words. Their minds tended to align themselves more often than not and he was sure it was both frustrating and useful to those around them. Undoubtedly Taria counted herself among those who were more than a little exasperated by her husband and brother, though he doubted she would ever take them any other way.

A chuckle erupts from him at the way those deft fingers tangled over the laces of those damn breeches. Of course, Llane didn't often openly say his admiration for his close friend, he could see why it shocked him into making a mistake. Though that little failure caused Llane's hands to draw themselves from the bed and bat Anduin's hands away to do it himself.

Llane found amusement in the fact that Lothar was nearly bare while he was only without his shirts and crown. Beneath that, there was a growing pride in his friend and how lucky he was to have such people who wanted him to relax and stop stressing over his kingdom.

"I do expect you to give me proper input on my suggestions tomorrow," he suddenly sing-songed, peering up at Anduin from wavy auburn hair getting right into his eyes. "That is if Taria doesn't yell at one of us." His hands took the chance to tug the laces free completely and pull the other's pants off, grinning roguishly up at him.

"Don't talk about suggestions and work and the welfare of the kingdom when I'm not wearing anything below the waist," Lothar grumbles. It's a common enough complaint. Still, he loves Llane's mind even when it has an inability to shut itself off and he thinks he's just going to have to deal with that now instead of later. He finishes with his own clothes and gives his king a knowing look.

"Do you see anything in particular that pleases you? Or have you gotten tired of looking at me after all these years?"

"Would you prefer me to ask you how your day went?" Llane queried with a soft, affectionate snort, though took the chance to gently push Lothar away enough that he could begin to toe his boots off.

Anduin's question gives him pause, brow raising and he looks up at his companion like he grew a second or third head. Had he grown tired of the sight before him? Was his friend a little stupid? Hadn't he told him just -- a soft sigh leaves Llane's body as he realizes that Lothar is being difficult and trying to prove a point he thinks. He returns to toeing his boots off and mulls over what to say in return to that.

"Always," he settled for as a beginning, "and I will never get tired of looking at you. There is always some new scar or bruise for me to discover, I find it hard to not be excited at the idea of rememorizing you."

Llane smiles, leaning forward to rest his forehead against his friends stomach. "You must be insane to think I'd ever get tired of that. Or are you hinting that you're tired of your king? I didn't order you here. I can easily show myself back to the war room if I'm unwanted and this is a chore, Anduin."

He was teasing him, mostly at least. He did not find the idea that perhaps it was true appealing in the least. Lothar was attractive, he could have his pick of anyone if he truly wanted it and Llane would not stand to know if this was simply just a formality at this point. Anduin was to be happy, if it was not Llane who could provide it... well he may sulk and nurse his wounded heart, but he would never stand in the way of it.

"I could never be tired of you, Llane," Lothar says, pointedly not remarking on the fact that he's the king. Here in this chamber, they are not king and subject but old friends. As to how his body looks, Lothar is aware that his is full of scars and bruises, full of marks of how he's defended Stormwind from some threat or another.

"It's that I just hope you never get tired of me, really." He strokes Llane's hair, fingers rifling through soft curls. "I need this more than anything."

"Then you know how important this is to me," Llane muttered, tilting his head towards the hands threading through his auburn curls. What a silly friend he had, as if there was anyone else who could give him this peace. Not even Taria had this effect on him, her potent influence was different and just as important.

One of his hands reaches for his dear friends, pulling it close enough so the king could affectionately draw his mouth across the back of his hand. There are jokes he could make there, ones that would have his general undoubtedly rolling his eyes and shoving him flat against the bed in a mock of a huff, but he refrains. Instead he trails his lips around the side of the other's hands to kiss a callous he found near immediately. Next, he pressed a kiss to the center of the other's palm and held it there as he breathed in softly.

"You, Anduin, are not one to easily be made tired of."

Brown eyes flick up from under thick lashes as his words were murmured against the toughened flesh, curving his lips into a sweet smile just for the other.

"You are no woman, the beard is proof enough of that," he bounced his brows teasingly before continuing, "so I will not try pretty words. Instead, I'll remind you of how easy it was to get me in here at all. Where as anyone else would be told to sod off."

"I am no woman," Lothar agrees. He leans in to kiss Llane; kissing a man is different from kissing a woman. It isn't tender the way he normally would have been with his wife but, instead, is a meeting of strength with strength. He buries his hands in Llane's hair and tilts his head a little, trying to coax him to relax as he slants his mouth over the other man's.

It's been a while since they were together like this but it's not something that Lothar has ever really forgotten. Even as boys, there had been a connection and now that connection was as strong as ever.

As the other slants his lips against his own, Llane smiles and nips his friend's bottom lip. He was already becoming lax beneath even so little, worries were beginning to be cleared and more than anything, the king was so glad he was given the Lothar siblings from a young age.

A brief pause had him pulling back and looking up with a devious look. "Are you just going to stand there, Anduin? The bed is more comfortable, don't you think?"

Lothar knows that Llane is right, of course, but his stubborn nature makes him want to just stand there for a moment and be like "no, you move," instead of just taking what they both want. Finally, though, he changes his position and lays back against the bed, inviting Llane to cover him.

"Come, then, and prove to me why the bed is better than standing?"

Llane snorted at his stubborn friend, though hummed his satisfaction as he would lay back and invite the king to show him why laying on the bed would be much more comfortable than standing. The corners of his lips curl up at the edges and Llane does not hesitate as he decides to straddle the other's hips with no shame in how he seated himself. He ground down a bit, smug with his choice and settles his hands on the other's toned stomach.

"Why am I doing your work, Anduin?" The man asked, leaning forwards to allow curls to fall foward with the new angle, "is this not your job? To be showing me why this is better than pouring over the safety of my kingdom?"

"Well, you wouldn't learn anything if I did all the work. Sometimes a king has to step into the place of his subject," Lothar scoffs. It's kind of a specious argument, considering the position they're currently in, but at least he's done his job and distracted him significantly enough that Llane is asking questions about who should be on top. That's good enough for Lothar.

"Do you want to show me what you've learned?"

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