angryfistofgod | OPEN POST

"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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