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Regal Affairs	By : Darbracken Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 1787 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Arthas, Varian or the World Of Warcraft universe. I have not and will not make any profit from this story. I do however 'own' Brivon, a human death knight who camoes in this story as the young boy being exploited in the servants' qu

Chapter List
- 1-Regal Affairs
- 1
Perspiration slicked taut limbs, one repetitive motion following the next as steel cut concisely through the air. To and fro hips swayed as feet danced across stone in the movements of his training, finding solace in the routine and physical exertion; at least the screams faded from his consciousness in moments like these. Had the young king of Stormwind been aware he was being watched, perhaps brows would not have furrowed quite so much. In his mind’s eye, green flesh was flayed from bone, ire coursing hot through his veins as he slaughtered the Orc creatures that had decimated his homeland.
For his part, the prince of Lordaeron was hovering between awe and jealously of his friend’s prowess. Yet it occurred to Arthas that something more was unsettling the young man, facial features pulled into an ugly grimace as the blade cut swathes through the empty space of the hall. How many years had it been now since he had first laid eyes on the silently despairing Varian? The thought of his own father suffering such a fate brought a heavy weight to his stomach and tightness to his throat. Still he could not pity the young king for Varian would not allow it, chiselled chin lofted as he battled through the sorrowful looks he encountered daily from people who tutted and fussed over a man who should have never lost his father at such a young age. Such was the way of kings and princes, Arthas bitterly thought, though his own father persisted in sheltering him despite the fact he was now a man.
Movements became more lethargic as muscles burned in protest at prolonged use, the tip of the king’s blade dropping as stamina began to fade. At such times, Varian would often be challenged by Arthas and would soundly thrash him, but today something had stayed his hand, perhaps the troubled expression on his face. Exhaustion slowly took over the warrior, strokes becoming more languid until finally the blade was sheathed and he dropped forwards, panting, onto his knees. Princes didn’t cry, or so the mantra churned through his head as it had a million times before since he had seen Stormwind razed.
Anger flared again. One day, he promised himself, he would rebuild the city to its former glory and walk it’s hallowed halls. Plate armour crashed into the stone before him, hating such impotent fury, though he knew the council of King Menethil to be just and wise. “Just a while longer, my boy...” the kind man had uttered to him last time he had spoken of returning to Stormwind. Slick ebony strands hung over one of the plated shoulders, pulled back into a long ponytail, harsh breaths racking his frame.
For one moment that seemed as foreign as it was crazed, Arthas observed the young man, the thought of the house of Wrynne bowed to him in servitude... and perhaps even other things rising as a flash of heat to his belly. He shook his head, wondering where such menace had come from to cloud his thoughts, a little anguished at such tidings. It was true he had admired the other, his swordsmanship, his quiet determination, his force of spirit in the face of death and destruction, but with admiration had come jealousy. Varian was loved, by the people, by his father, by the whole court, as was he, but still there came a niggling suspicion that the other was somehow –better- than he was at everything.
Pushing aside his own dark thoughts, he finally made his presence known, striding across the hall to where the dark haired man resided on hands and knees. Varian had swiftly sat up in more regal repose at the approach, though it had not stopped the bitter anger and pain flashing across his expression before he had schooled his mind as he had his body. They were as different as the day was to the night, Varian with his head of long dark hair and blue eyes and Arthas, hair as golden as the sun, green eyes not holding understanding of the horrors of war.
Settling before the older male, hands worked quickly at unbuckling plate metal from flesh, more than aware of how stifling armour could be when one was training. Curiously Varian looked up but made no move to stop the young prince removing his gloves, the scent of sweat and man rousing as metal was removed. “Damnit Varian, your hands..” Arthas roundly cursed, glad that it was only the two of them in the room as he pulled metal from flesh, scars crisscrossing the other’s hands from the long hours of training and wearing chaffing armour becoming apparent. Perhaps a little self-consciously he turned his hands over even as Arthas tried to inspect them for injury. After a little resistance he finally turned palms up, calloused fingertips crossing the indentations made by amour until he was sure that it looked a lot worse than it actually was.
“My sister is to be married.” Ignoring a flash of azure that suddenly settled on him, he set hands to busy themselves removing ornate grieves from the other’s forearms. Silence fell for a moment as it dawned on him that this was the reason he had sought out the elder. Confusion and pain had been brief in his sheltered existence, but his father’s insistence that his sister marry a man of his choosing had been so uncharacteristic of the doting and loving way he had brought up his children that it hurt. Awkwardly he had wanted to share his confusion with the only other man he knew that was of shared status and that he trusted. Blonde strands crowded over his features as the second greave was pried from strong forearms. Just as Varian was about to speak he cut in again, warmth encircling numb digits as the light blessed him and flowed into the other’s frame to relieve some of the fatigue and pain. “She doesn’t want to marry him.”
Unaware of how petulant and young the statement had been, he let the armour clatter to the floor. “Do you even think its possible, Varian?” Digits flexed free of steel, feeling vigour starting to return to his frame as Arthas’s light embraced him, unsure how to answer the young prince who was clearly hurt. Lightly he rested his hand on his shoulder, surprised at the bulk that had grown below the fine robes. “It is the way of the gentry..” Despite agreeing with the sentiment of the man’s father his tone was still soft, apologetic almost. Brushing the hand from his shoulder, Arthas’ handsome features turned into a sneer. “I will not allow it; I’ll only marry the woman I love!”
Jaina.. the young prince had spoken of her many times, it obvious where his affections lay, but Varian had never sought to offer his assistance. After all both young men were somewhat naïve when it came to matters of the heart. Though he might be able to instruct the younger on various types of blades, teaching him how to woo a woman was out of the question. “Is it even possible to sleep with someone you do not love?!” Steel quivered bringing Varian out of his reverie, the young prince having punched the armour covering his friend’s chest. Needing to strike out his voice rose, frustration mounting at his inability to assist his sister. At first he didn’t notice the crimson stain on the elder’s cheeks until he looked up, barely realising what, he himself, had been bellowing.
“I think it’s possible..” Azure gaze slid away, mortified at the discussion’s direction, feeling very self-conscious about speaking of such acts of intimacy so openly. Words had drawn Arthas from his headlong rant, finally noticing he had the crease of the other male’s armour grasped tightly in his fists and that the tips Varian’s ears were pink. “To.. you know.. do it with.. someone you don’t love.” Despite the fairly monotone delivery words still seemed hesitant and shy, the flush only growing more prevalent.
“Impossible and I’ll prove it!” Almost angrily he unbuckled the chest piece that protected the padding and clothing that covered the warrior who was becoming more uncomfortable by the second. Letting it clatter to the floor, it took the stunned Varian until the taut hinges of his leg armour were being attacked to finally grasp his wrists. “What.. what are you doing? Arthas?” Upon hearing his name the blonde tilted his head back, anger and disbelief burning within verdant eyes. “If you think it is so easy I will prove to you that it is not!”
Maybe the heat and scent lifting from the sweaty body below had driven him to the brink of insanity or perhaps he had ignored burgeoning hormones for far too long. He had never experienced the warmth of another’s body and only indulged in very brief forays into sating his own bodily requirements. “We’re both men...” Despite Varian’s protests, he found his wrists were only weakly restrained, assuming that somehow his offer had stirred the curiosity of the other. A handsome smile spread across twisted features, as he forced the binds undone and pried leggings away from flesh.
“Surely you’ve done this before, Varian.” Finding confidence he didn’t have and experience he had not gained, he started to pull the outer layer of garments from his friend, exposing perspiration dewed flesh to the cold air. It was a surprise to find that flesh was soft to the touch, despite the scars that marred it. He was far too young to bear the scars of war but Varian’s body was littered with them. It pleased him that the other was not putting up too much of a fight, either because he didn’t want to injure the younger or because he was so stunned by what was going on he didn’t know what else to do but to allow it. “It’s natural at our age to explore. Come, I am your closet friend. Do you not care for me?”
“Arthas.. stop.” Finally it seemed he had found his voice, a little dazed as frigid air snuck over hot flesh, the sensation altogether far too pleasing to his mind. Somehow the confidence the young prince exerted made him wonder if the other had done such things in the past and if so with whom, he certainly had no knowledge of physical intimacy with another person and especially not a man. Hurt seemed to cross features as he tried to repel him, striking a chord deep within. Arthas had been his closest friend, the first who had pried him from his room when he first had entered Lordaeron and certainly a powerful ally to Stormwind, not someone he wished to anger or upset. As he looked into verdant eyes he replayed his own words to himself.. it was possible to.. If he had believed it why was it so difficult to put it into practice?
Resistance displeased Arthas, desire taking hold as at first he had been granted permission and now he was being denied. It came as a surprise to him that fabric had become taut across his crotch, not realising that the thought of subjugating Varian and the bareness of his upper torso could have such a potent effect. It also fascinated him to know that nipples could harden for reasons other than the cold, the room fairly temperate as far as he was concerned. The first angry surge that had inspired him to prove his friend wrong had faded into need and desire, his body craving touch. As the other’s mind waved so his became resolved, yanking his hand free to sharply pinch a hardened nub.
The sound, he found, was amazing, a sharp intake of breath followed by something in the pit of the other’s throat that was only half released. Throwing cloth and metal aside, he let it skid across the floor before he pressed a strong hand to his shoulder and forced him back onto the cold, hard stone. It was not difficult to overcome the elder when he was so fatigued, finding he laid back without too much resistance. Lips mashed together as he bent over him, imitating what he had once witnessed when he visited the servants’ quarters. It felt so amazing, even galloping freely across the glades with Invincible faded from the forefront of his mind as lips tangled.
Much to his consternation the body below him was stirring, sturdy limbs restless, unable to decide whether to allow the contact or end it. “I locked the door.” With that assurance, limbs ceased their motion, lifting his torso up slightly to look down upon the flushed and confused king of Stormwind. A sly smile tickled his expression as he reached down between limbs to find that the other was at least somewhat interested in his ministrations. Grasping the half roused length through cloth he slowly pumped it, earning him a partially angry, mostly embarrassed expression that faded to disbelief as the organ engorged swiftly within his grasp.
Muscular thighs shivered, ribs rising and falling more swiftly – a heady cocktail of power spurring the young man on as he licked his lips, appreciating the frame spread out before him. “Does it feel good, Varian?” Words were whispered, suddenly intimate despite the awkward situation and improbability of being caught in the act. A faint nod of the dark head caused his handsome countenance to light up with pleasure. Features were strong and masculine but still softened, teetering on the verge between the boy he was and man he would become. With the reassurance he felt confidence swelling, changing the strokes to a slow, much more deliberate rhythm that caused limbs to twitch and hips to rise.
Protests died on his lips, heat prickling along the inner of thighs as flesh was teased and tormented by languid strokes. To his inexperienced mind it seemed as though the young prince had indeed done this many times before, it just seemed so accomplished. It did not occur to him that Arthas might just have been extremely lucky and stumbled into the knowledge of just how to press his buttons. Of course he would never ask the younger to divulge whom he had learnt such techniques from; it would be awkward enough to even see him at all as memories of this moment remained.
Moisture began to seep through thin undergarments, overly excited by the stimulation, such information bringing further pleasure to his mind. Would it be possible to best the young man who watched him with dark, needy eyes? Thoughts wandered back to the scant knowledge he had of such intimacy, the memory of the blonde male spread over the sturdy table in the servants’ quarters flooding back.
At first he had approached after he heard cries of his name, he had stayed though because what he had witnessed had transfixed him. A boy of about his age had been spread wide, limbs affixed crudely to stout table legs by mage weave cloth. Vaguely he recognised him as one who had been blessed by the light and had sought to become a paladin but he had not known his name. Sheathed within him was one the keep’s guards, as broad as he was tall, hammering relentlessly into the clawing and straining frame of the youth who sobbed his name helplessly.
Despite the depravity of the scene before him he found himself unable to move, the breathy little cries of his name filling him with uncertain stirrings of emotion. Before long the man was spent and to avoid detection he had hurried away, locking himself in his room for some time afterwards to think on what he had witnessed and to await his arousal to recede.
Releasing the throbbing flesh he soundly kissed the young king again, pulling fabric away from skin as he no longer accepted it barring him from direct access. Power – it was utterly intoxicating, the power to please, to rule and to master. Bruising lips he pulled back, teeth violently attaching to the other’s lip, marking him as he threw undergarments aside. If Varian had considered denial, it had soundly been ripped from his mind as eagerly his body bent and rubbed against him, seeking further contact and friction. Rather callously he pulled back to remove his own clothing, stately robes of his position falling from about toned shoulders. Ignoring the squirming, he took his time before he finally grasped a knee and lifted Varian’s thigh to press against his chest so he might get his first real vision of puckered muscle.
Confusion dawned upon him, though experience told him it was possible, unsure just how he would fit his length into such a small and seemingly tight space. Fingertips experimentally pushed against taut muscle which gave slightly, kissing flesh with unbelievable heat. Eagerly he pressed again, earning a grunt of discomfort, worming his index finger in to only the first joint. Slowly it dawned upon him in order to enter deeper friction needed to be reduced, fingertips lofting to his mouth to be coated in the only liquid within close proximity.
Though Varian swallowed, there was nothing to swallow, licking dry lips as he watched the prince of Lordaeron suck upon agile digits, unaware why he found the sight so rousing. Valiantly he attempted to silence the sounds that wavered in the pit of his throat uncertainly. Though the gentle touch had been ticklish and sore, it had not been entirely unpleasant and in his sensitive state he was more than willing to see if the other could bring him further pleasure, even if it was through unusual means.
Saliva slick fingers found their way to tight muscles, teasing strokes soothing the nervous clenching of sinew before he pushed his index insistently against the resistance, finding this time it slid in to his knuckle, albeit it extremely slowly. By the light it was hot and tight in there, the thought of being buried within causing his arousal to twitch sympathetically. Gently he moved the digit in and out, mimicking the thrusting action he had witnessed, earning little jerks and unsteady breath. Muscles began to loosen, growing accustomed to the sensation of being filled.
Leaning up, raven strands were allowed to unfurl as fingernails traced the back of Varian’s neck, rewarded with a violent shudder that rippled down his spine. Taking the opportunity a second digit wormed within, a sharp inhalation of breath halting his motions, a grimace tight on darker features. If the king of Stormwind was in pain he was stoically silencing himself, hips stilling from their previous gentle motions. The need to continue was pressing, the expression though enough to pause proceedings as lips attacked the sensitive flesh of his throat.
Teeth pulled at flesh until he had sufficiently distracted him from the motions of his fingers, easing in rhythmically as muscle began to unclench tentatively, providing more room to manoeuvre. Gently he stretched and teased, becoming more and more bold as no further obvious signs of displeasure appeared. Impatience and youth went hand in hand, despite trying to be as careful as he could be with his friend he still craved to experience his heat more intimately. Pulling up he took in the sight of the slightly breathless Varian, lips swollen with kisses and half parted, eyes closed in concentration, spine arched just slightly.
Unable to restrain himself further he pushed thighs apart, the blunt tip of his arousal pressing taut to protesting muscles. A hand clamped over lips to silence any sudden loud exclamations, a buck of shoulders and a strangled cry registering the other’s discomfort as he forced his way in. The blinding pleasure was coupled with unexpected pain as teeth dug into the flesh of his palm. Tentatively he lifted his hand, his friend’s features screwed up in pain. “Try to relax…” It seemed peculiar to him how shaky his own voice seemed, foreign even to his own ears. Somehow he managed to remain still, aching to thrust forwards into the flesh that clung to him so desperately but feeling the first flush of fear that he might actually seriously hurt the young king.
Moments passed as they remained frozen, one in discomfort, the other anxious about seriously damaging his only accessible peer. Muscles began to lax as they became accustomed to the sizeable intrusion, the tiniest stirs of hips wiggling the length against silken walls until the aching began to subside. For his part Arthas remained transfixed, unable to add further to the proceedings as he felt muscles quivering along his shaft, trying not to concentrate too much on how arousing it felt. A dull sound emanated from Varian’s throat finally, a nod granting permission to move again.
Sinew flexed, drawing backwards as slowly as was tolerable, the delicious heat clinging to him wantonly as though it forbade him from ever leaving its depths. Moans mingled, whether they were bonded in the same pleasure though was questionable. “Varian..” Arthas whispered intimately into damp raven strands as he drew forth again to sheath himself, the glory of such a connection making him aware why one might go to such lengths to experience it. Again and again with a painstaking slow rhythm he inched back and forth, each kiss of pelvises bringing forth heightened awareness of the other’s body. The way his ribs jerked as he took him to the hilt, the tiny sounds that were suppressed behind a bitten lip, each flex of strong abdominal muscles as he arched both into him and then away, as though coy.
As pressure built he panted hotly on the other’s shoulder, arching more confidently until a guttural sound traversed his spine, hairs rising along the back of his neck. Hazy verdant gaze lowered to the source of the unholy sound, digits suddenly fastened into his shoulders, pulling him desperately into the taut frame. “By the light Varian, are you ok?” The response surprised him, hips bucking up forcefully and jostling him, short nails tearing across flesh as the stiff body suddenly writhed beneath him. “Again.” The word was growled, as though any lack of compliance would be met with force, more than aware of the elder’s strength.
Thrilled with the request earnestly he thrust forth, every few strokes seeming to provoke the unusual reaction from the other who mumbled incoherently between panting and clawing at his shoulders. Suddenly he was aware of damp flesh rubbing insistently against his abdomen, pain having dulled the other’s arousal but this new revelation seeming to rouse it to new heights. Balancing with one hand he sought between their bodies, running his palm along the top softly as the underside rubbed against his own heated flesh with each thrust.
Internal muscles clenched, thoughts scattered as the world narrowed to just the two of them, skin dewed with exertion, blonde and raven strands mingling as they fumbled towards ecstasy. Though he would later deny it he was the first to release, tension built without remorse until he could hold on no longer, the surge of heat overwhelming as he buried as deeply as he could and spilled molten desire. Varian had not been far behind, the last weaker stirs of hips throwing him over the edge after the younger man.
Panting together they lay in bliss, neither finding it necessary to talk as they allowed climax to consume their bodies. Languid kisses were exchanged, eager to retain bodily contact until the chill air began to creep upon them and Arthas finally pulled back. Dark strands hung forwards as another flush teased the elder’s cheeks, unsure what to say in such circumstances or even if words were appropriate. They were not lovers after all, friends maybe, brothers in arms definitely but both were men and he was no woman. Tenderly the prince brushed the thick hair aside to stroke a warm cheek, sliding up to a sit. No words could describe what he had experienced, though he burnt to understand more, to feel more... but confessing these desires seemed to imply that he willed a more intimate relationship with the man. Both were well aware what such relations could mean to their respective kingdoms, it was utterly prohibited. But within the protective walls of the training hall, anything seemed possible and with that thought Arthas grasped the strong hand within his and gazed down at the flustered king with burning emerald orbs.
“Same time next week?”
- 1
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Regal Affairs