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Perched at a table at the Lion’s Pride inn, Khadgar found himself to be the most relaxed he’d been in days. Lothar sprawled next to him, finishing the dregs of a large tankard of ale. They’d been at the inn for a couple of hours now. Varis had left them earlier, successfully wooing his female love interest into the night, while Khadgar and Lothar remained behind in easy companionship.
The young mage found his inhibitions lowering as he drank with the warrior. He hadn’t felt so comfortable in another’s company in a long time. The war with the orcs, the fel, even the encounter with Medivh faded to the background of Khadgar’s mind, finding himself intoxicated in ways that had nothing to do with the ale.
---
“So. Tell me. ” Lothar eyed him appraisingly. “How would a warrior go about defeating a mage in combat?”
Khadgar snorted, shaking his dark head in mock sadness. Say your prayers and get ready to release your spirit.”
“I’m serious.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Brown eyes danced with humor that Lothar had not seen before. Khadgar paused thoughtfully before replying, “You could start by getting a mage of your own.”
“Really, boy?” Lothar’s look of irritation ought to have withered Khadgar where he sat, and perhaps on another night it would have. Tonight, he choked back laughter into his ale.
“Mount up and ride away. Or bring friend. Or three.” The mage shrugged elaborately. “You’re going to need help.”
“You smug little bastard.” Blue eyes glinted dangerously. “Do you remember how fast I had you on that desk? Not three seconds. Pinned on your back like a bug.”
Khadgar threw his head back then, laughter ringing out. “Lothar. Let me clue you in.” He leaned in, a little too close. “Plenty of spells don’t need spoken incantations. I could have blasted your ass into the next room over.” He stopped to wipe at his eyes with a shirtsleeve, his tone becoming lofty. “I was being nice.”
The warrior inclined his head skeptically. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” More serious, now. “I had the spell in my hand. But there was something…I trusted you.” A shrug. “I wasn’t wrong.”
“I think you knew I had a garrison of men outside the door and you’d never get away with it.”
“Don’t be so sure.” Such confidence.
“Can you back that up, spell-chucker?” Lothar did not believe the young man, not yet dry behind the ears, was nearly as capable as he thought he was. “Have you ever done any fighting whatsoever? Outside of academic duels with old men?”
A hint of defensiveness crept into the mage’s tone. “A few times.” Khadgar took another swallow of ale, explaining, “Stormwind is long way from Dalaran. I was travelling alone through all kinds of strange lands. The roads can be dangerous. Had to keep my wits about me.”
“Dangerous, maybe, for maids and pretty faces like yours.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t know.”
Lothar listened distractedly, appreciating the animation lighting the usually reserved young man. By the Light, that face is fuckable. The night they’d spent together, where the mage had clung to him for comfort, had stirred his desire. He wanted more. The warrior wondered, Would he come to bed with me tonight? A server wandered by with a tray of pastries and Lothar leaned across to snag one, inching closer to the mage in the process. Khadgar seemed like a flighty animal at times, and Lothar felt as if direct movements might send the boy fleeing.
“Anyway. Why should I help you get better at killing me?” The cheeky look sent shivers down Lothar’s body to the base of his groin. The mage looked at him expectantly, fingertips tapping the tabletop thoughtfully. “What’s in it for me?”
“Maybe we should make a trade. You give me tips, I help you work off some of that flab.” Lothar poked at the boy’s ribs. “You can run laps with my troops.”
Khadgar sputtered. “I may not be a muscle-bound lunk, but I’m not flabby. I don’t spend all my time in the library.” Lothar suppressed a grin. He knew the boy was trim, but enjoyed poking at the sensitive spot. The mage continued, “Do you have any idea how many stairs there are in Dalaran? If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me. The Kirin Tor loved sending me running up and down those mage towers on errands.”
Lothar nodded solemnly. “I’d believe you. I’ve seen Karazhan, if that’s any indication.” He shook his head, reliving the hellish climb up seemingly endless stairs in the Guardian’s tower. “What is it with mages and stairs?”
“They tend to slow down armor-wearing brutes, for starters.” A pause. “Lothar. Let me join your training sessions.” The boy spoke rapidly, excitement flushing his cheeks as he leaned forward. “Why not? I need more combat experience. Your troops could learn how to defend against arcane attacks.”
“No. Not happening. I’m not unleashing some half-trained pup on my men so you can practice whatever ill-considered spells got you kicked out of the Kirin Tor.”
“They didn’t kick me out.” Eyebrows arched elegantly. “I left.”
“Are you sure about that?” Lothar mutter sarcastically, mulling over the suggestion. It wasn’t a bad idea, really. Medivh had done something similar, many years ago, before holing up in Karazhan. “Are you able to control the level of your spells? Fight at a reduced power, like?”
Khadgar rubbed at his temple thoughtfully. “I’ve done that in duels. It’s like slapping instead of punching. You have to be able to scale it back, because you’re not trying to kill someone in a duel. Usually.”
“Exactly. We train at about a third of normal power – it’s got to be fast and hard, to simulate the real thing. It gets a little rough, keeps people on edge. But we don’t want anyone getting seriously injured.” Lothar’s face turned grim, remembering the dark times they were in. “We need every fighter we have right now.”
“All the more reason to let me train with you. Garona said Guldan is not the only warlock in the Horde.” The boy shrugged. “I mean obviously, there’s all kinds of magic. Shamanic, geomancy, demonic, voodoo, runic, elemental. Even without the horde breathing down our necks, your troops should get some real experience they can defend themselves.”
Lothar nodded, letting the mage ramble. Distracted by the smooth lines of his face and excited glow. Lothar’s eyes traced up and down his body with plain desire, wondering how far down the blush went. What would he do if I kissed him right here at the table?
“Even with mages, there’s different specializations. Fire magic, frost, arcane. You have to be able to recognize the spellcasting and respond appropriately,” Khadgar continued, searching the older man’s face. “They need to know the basics, at least. Right?”
“I’ll think about it. What are the basics?
“Well. For example, mages work best at a distance, so you want to get as close as possible. But not too close. Only practice can help you figure that out.”
“Hmmm. What else?”
“Not all spells are spoken, but everything requires concentration. Find a way to interrupt the casting. A shout, shield slam, physical contact. Distraction of some kind.” Khadgar bit at his bottom lip, considering. The movement made Lothar’s chest hurt, his groin tighten. “Or you can try to wear them down and hope they run out of mana.” Serious brown eyes, framed by long, dark lashes flickered to his face and then away. “It’s not easy to take a mage, Lothar. But you can try.”
“I’d like that.”
The layers of meaning in his words lay pause to Khadgar’s mirth momentarily. The mage searched carefully for a response, replying uncertainly, “We have a deal, then?”
Khadgar had chosen to ignore his innuendo. Again. Damn it. Lothar nodded at the question, wondering if the boy was deliberately obtuse or just that inexperienced. That wasn’t what he’d meant, but…yes. The training was a good idea. His troops would benefit from the opportunity, and maybe the insufferable young mage would get knocked down a peg or two.
Deciding that more direct tactics were needed, he leaned forward, touching above the younger man’s knee under the table. All or nothing, he thought, strangely nervous, searching Khadgar’s serious face. Khadgar flinched, like Lothar knew he would. “I meant that I’d like to try that. Taking a mage.” A pause. “Taking you, bookworm.”
Khadgar swallowed. Does he…? Is he…? Oh Light, are we going to…? Biting his lower lip, wordlessly, he nodded assent.
---
Side by side on the bed they lay, lazy from the release and comfortable in each other’s presence. Lothar had intended to take things slow with the inexperienced mage, but Khadgar had demonstrated other ideas. He’d been an eager and assertive partner, making up for his lack of knowledge with sheer desire and responsiveness. Lothar mused that while there had been other partners in his life, even recent partners, the intensity of his chemistry with Khadgar was strong. Almost unbearably so. Over the years since Cally had died, he’d grown used to the lack of serious attachments. The uncomfortable truth was that he wanted more of the young mage, both in the bedroom and outside of it. Pushing the thought aside, he decided to focus on the moment, come what may.
“I thought you said you didn’t know how.” Lothar’s accusation was playful.
“I’ve never done this before.” The boy wouldn’t be still, squirming around to feel every inch of Lothar’s body, hands tracing up and down and through his hair.
“Like hell.” Lothar teased, trying to plant kisses on the restless mage. “Lie still and let me hold you.”
Khadgar relented, consenting to be pulled against Lothar’s chest. One hand continued to wander across the man’s buttocks and thighs, squeezing gently. “I’m a fast learner. And I’ve done some reading.”
Lothar groaned, rolling his eyes. “Reading. Of course you have.”
Softly, Khadgar traced along his face, feeling the scars and lips and brow. “I’ve wanted this since the day I met you.” He sighed with satisfaction, lips grazing Lothar’s chest. “I can’t believe it actually happened.”
“Silly. Why not? Who wouldn’t want to bed you?”
“Lothar.” A little embarrassed.
“Hm.”
“Can we…do this again?”
“What, right now?”
“Soon. Tomorrow? And the next day. And the day after that.”
Lothar laughed, surprised. “Every day that you’ll have me, bookworm, I’m yours.”