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Mathias hides his grin in his mug as Edwin finishes off whatever bawdy joke he had begun telling him over a minute ago. The drink made him lose his place more than once and Mathias had given up trying to follow along with it and was instead more than content to simply listen to the deep rumble of his voice and enjoy the warmth that his company so often brought. For the first night in weeks there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the stars shone on undeterred but Mathias could hardly appreciate it with Edwin’s thigh pressed firmly up against his own.
Developing a crush was difficult and complicated enough on its own. Developing a crush on your best friend, however, was a different beast altogether.
They had become fast friends during the fallout from the First War, meeting amongst the wreckage of what was once known as Stormwind City as nothing more than teens. Once the awkward stages of puberty had passed over them both more or less at the same time, Edwin grew to be blindingly handsome and broad shouldered and more annoyingly, much taller than him. Privately, Mathias was still hoping another growth spurt was on its way for him.
“Are you listening to me?” Edwin asks as he takes another healthy swig of ale. Mathias looks up at him almost lazily.
“Yes,” He half-lies, taking care not to let his gaze linger too long on Edwin’s throat working as he swallows. He’s not fast enough, it turns out, and Edwin catches his gaze with a mischievous glint in his eyes. When Mathias feels a rough hand on his knee he loses his focus, however briefly.
It’s long enough for Edwin to take his shot and Mathias parts his lips easily for him. They’ve done this before while exploring their adolescent curiosities so it’s hardly new territory for either of them but when Edwin’s hand slides up and towards the inseam of his leggings, he knows it’s different. A tongue slides in gracelessly alongside his own and Mathias can’t help but shudder into it.
His world is thrown off-kilter for a moment as he loses his balance and finds himself on his back with Edwin looming over him, eyeing him like a predator would its prey. Contemplative and calculating, as always.
“Is this good, Matty?” Edwin asks him as he shifts his weight onto one of his forearms and splays his free hand beneath Mathias’ shirt and over his newly exposed skin.
“Is this the way you want me, then?” Mathias huffs under him in an attempt to disguise the breathy laugh that’s pulled from him as rough fingers trail over his sensitive flank. “Loose and compliant and… and drunk?” He lobs it at him like a joke, but once it leaves his mouth he hears how bitter it sounds and realizes with a start that he desperately wants to know the answer.
It makes Edwin stop which makes him immediately regret saying anything at all. His brows furrow in that familiar way they always do when he’s trying to solve a particularly difficult puzzle, though it’s more unfocused than it would be if he weren’t as drunk as he was. Mathias can visibly see the cogs in his brain working as the other man darts his eyes down to where his shirt rides up and at the pale skin that greets him.
“It’s the only way I could work up the nerve to try this.” He bites at his lip in a way that makes him look so much younger than his nearly-nineteen years. “You must have known, by now. What you do to me.” To further drive his point home, he draws Mathias’ hand up to his abdomen and down to his— oh. “The things you make me feel, Matty.”
The unexpected admission makes his heart stop beating in his chest for a moment that feels like a lifetime. Before he can begin to think clearly he pulls Edwin back down onto his elbows to mash their mouths together inelegantly with a need that ignites every last nerve ending in his body. He has nothing else to say and as he soon finds out, neither does Edwin.
—
Ever since the crown had contracted Edwin and the Stonemasons Guild to rebuild the glorious city of Stormwind and the giddy apprehension settled into matured determination, things between them got even easier. There were some nights where either Edwin or Mathias was too exhausted from their work— Edwin doing the grueling work of landscaping districts of the city he’s to rebuild and Mathias from his days at SI:7– where they simply did nothing other than sleep.
Most nights and even some mornings, however, Edwin was fueled by pure adrenaline and Mathias couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do than oblige him.
Mathias groans and throws his head back against a pillow as Edwin works him open with three fingers, aided by copious amounts of oil that Mathias could feel slicking up his inner thighs. As Edwin slides his fingers in past the second knuckle Mathias can feel his hawkish eyes carefully watching his face, half-lidded and glinting with a question he apparently has trouble working up to voice.
“More?” Edwin asks breathily. He’s done nothing but work him open torturously slowly for what felt like hours but apparently it’s affecting him more than Mathias thought.
Mathias nods as best as he can and squeezes his eyes shut as Edwin slides his little finger alongside the other three and he has to remember to breathe and stay relaxed for him. Edwin leans down and captures his mouth in a searing-hot kiss that Mathias does his best to return. It helps him focus on something other than how impossibly full he is and Edwin uses the distraction to push in all the way down to the knuckles at the base of his fingers and Mathias whimpers in a way that would embarrass him if he could even have the capacity to feel embarrassed at this point.
When Edwin pulls back to lick his lips, he’s close enough that his tongue brushes against Mathias’ in the process. “More?”
He couldn’t have heard him correctly. “I— Edwin, I don’t—“
“I believe in you, Matty. I know you can take it.” He exhales shakily against his lips as he tries to scissor his fingers inside of him, but there’s no room for him to do so. Mathias shivers at the image of it, at the thought of Edwin being fully inside of him in a way he doesn’t think is possible.
“I trust you,” Mathias tells him earnestly, wrapping his arms around the other man’s shoulders and pressing his lips against the corner of his mouth. Edwin curses under his breath and his free hand fumbles between them to empty the rest of the oil from the vial he had kept beside them onto the rest of his hand.
With a bit of a struggle, Edwin is able to work his thumb inside and a fresh layer of sweat breaks out on Mathias’ skin. Moans are easily pulled from him as his mouth hangs open, slack-jawed and impossibly relaxed like the rest of him. He feels lightheaded as Edwin pushes in to his knuckles once again and is only brought back to reality by Edwin’s hand patting insistently against his cheek. “Still with me?”
When Mathias can’t formulate an answer verbal or otherwise, Edwin slowly pulls back out of him and once his thumb is out Mathias can finally breathe again. “Sorry,” he apologizes as he presses his sweaty forehead to Edwin’s shoulder and the other man shushes him.
“You did so fucking good, Matty.” He presses a kiss to his hair and slides his little finger out as well. “So fucking good. You should see yourself like this. You have no idea—“
Mathias kisses him again, wet and lazy as exhaustion settles over him like a warm blanket until it’s enveloping him completely until he can’t do anything but lay back and struggle to keep his eyes open. Enough time passes that Edwin has retreated from him entirely and is wiping him down with a rough towel, murmuring soft praise against his skin as he goes and Mathias finally drifts out of consciousness.
He feels safer in Edwin’s hands than he’s ever felt anywhere else.
—
“Surely they don’t actually expect to be paid that much. It’s preposterous.”
“The Trade District is hardly up to par, besides.” Another noble agreed. “The steps to the bank are far too steep. Were they designed to keep the older and more important men in the city out? It certainly feels like it.”
“Enough,” King Varian Wrynn sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose as he sits back in his throne. “We’ve all heard your concerns and while we value your input, it isn’t getting us any closer to an agreement. We will discuss our options and reconvene at a later date.”
Mathias’ fists clench behind his back as he stands at a practiced parade rest and watches the grumbling nobles file out from the king’s holding chamber one by one. He’d heard much and more over these past few weeks as the Stonemasons Guild neared the end of their contract and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what had changed.
“You cannot possibly be considering what they suggest, Varian.” The queen says once the heavy doors behind the departing nobles had closed. “How well do you think we will be received if we refuse to pay the very people who put us in this castle?”
“And where do you imagine we will be able to procure the funds, your grace?” Katrana Prestor’s smooth voice lilts across the room as the king hesitates to answer. “It may not be the most popular solution, but it is a compromise we will have to make. Securing our borders throughout the Elwynn Forest and Stranglethorn must be our top priority lest we wish to rebuild Stormwind a second time.”
As a representative sent from SI:7 to show face and support the crown in these troubling times, Mathias was only expected to listen and keep quiet. As the council meetings grew longer and more tense, however, he was finding it increasingly difficult to bite down his tongue.
“She’s right, Tiffin,” he says with a groan and it clearly pains him to admit it. “The coffers are empty and we can’t simply wish the gold into existence. Our continued defense against the Horde—“
“—Should not outweigh the needs of our own people,” Queen Tiffin finishes for him.
“Shaw.” Mathias straightens his posture as the king calls on him and he crosses forth towards the throne with more assuredness than he feels. “What does SI:7 suggest? As you may have been able to guess, the crown is divided on this.”
“SI:7 will stand behind the crown no matter what comes to pass.” He resists the urge to bite the inside of his cheek. “As for which solution we suggest… I cannot say.”
It’s a vague non-answer and the king looks about as pleased with it as Mathias feels. “And if you were to tell me what you personally feel, instead?” Varian prompts with a raised brow. “I know you cannot give us an objective answer while you maintain your involvement with Vancleef, but I would still like to hear it.”
The urge to lash out almost overtakes him then but he forces himself to clamp down on his tongue between his molars painfully. He understands now why he was personally requested to attend these councils in place of anyone else among SI:7’s ranks.
His relationship with Edwin was not as private as he would have liked. They had begun this so long ago when the two of them cared little about anyone else’s opinion on the matter but as Mathias had gotten older, he wished they had been more careful. As he has personally begun to find out, it’s very easy to use that knowledge against him.
He remembers to answer a beat before the silence becomes awkward and uncomfortable. “What would you have me do?” He asks instead. Lady Prestor’s sharp eyes fixate on him and he tries not to let it deter him.
“I want you to defuse this bomb before it has the chance to take us all down with it,” The king tells him plainly and Mathias’ blood runs cold in his veins. “I believe you may be our only chance to peacefully resolve this before it gets out of hand.”
“With all due respect, my liege, it is not likely that his response will be any different if you were to tell him yourself.” He passes over his dry lips with his tongue in an attempt to wet them once again. “He is fiercely loyal to his men.”
“As you are loyal to the crown.” The King cuts in, eyeing him carefully.
“Yes.” He doesn’t have to think about his answer even as the knowledge swallows him up like a black pit.
“Then you will try,” Varian tells him and with that, he’s sent on his way.
He tries to ignore the coldness that has an unrelenting vice grip on his heart.
—
Edwin’s eyes don’t light up the way they used to when Mathias makes his presence known in his lodgings late into the evening. He knows he’s tired from the long hours of work on the city with the Stonemasons but it’s more than that. Ever since he’d learned that their pay was possibly being put into question, he’d become more distant.
He's never said it out loud but he knows Edwin blames him for it, at least in part. He’s angry with him for not standing up for him and his men more fiercely than he did as if he had ever had a choice. He blames him for being a coward. In the face of losing him, he grows desperate.
Even now on his knees before him, Edwin doesn’t look altogether enthused about the situation. His interest is piqued in the face of a potential blowjob, of course, but nothing more. Mathias doesn’t know how to properly talk about the distance yawning between them so he simply doesn’t address it. He tries instead to fix it in a way he knows how and in a way that Edwin hopefully understands as well. He draws Edwin out from his trousers and the other man spreads his legs to give him more room, sighing softly enough that Mathias probably wouldn’t have heard it if he weren’t listening as intently as he was.
It takes longer than he expects to get Edwin where he wants him and his jaw is beginning to protest by the time rough fingers grasp his hair. “That’s good, Mathias.” Edwin sighs as he leans back even further in his chair.
It’s not the first time he’s called him Mathias instead of the usual Matty, but it’s the first time it actually hurts. It strikes somewhere deep within and almost makes him halt his movements but there’s also something in him that forces himself to keep going. His hand tightens its grip in the fabric of Edwin’s trousers that are bunched up down his thighs and he redoubles his efforts, swallowing down the heavy feeling of doubt and whatever else is attempting to manifest in his chest. Soon enough, he’s swallowing something else down as well.
Edwin pets his hair encouragingly as Mathias thoroughly cleans him off with lips and tongue and pulls him back by his hair once the overstimulation becomes uncomfortable. He catches Mathias’ gaze with a searching look before he can completely withdraw in on himself and Mathias carefully makes his expression as blank as he possibly can until Edwin hums under his breath, seemingly content with whatever he was able to find.
When he rises to his feet, the more foolish part of his brain expects Edwin to stop him. He doesn’t.
Mathias leaves.
—
When he sees Edwin smirking over his drink at the young waitress he’d convinced to join him for a round, he’s less hurt than he thinks he would have been if this same scene had played out not even two months prior. She smiles right back at him, charming and pleasing enough on the eyes that Shaw can understand the appeal.
He’s known about her for a while now. This is just the first time he’s actually seen them out together.
He’s fairly certain Edwin is aware of his presence. His red hair was usually hard to miss no matter how short and cropped he kept it. After a long day on the field with potential recruits he’d come here for a drink and to let the idle chatter of the tavern’s patrons wash over him clear his head. Edwin, apparently, had much the same idea.
Distantly, he’s aware he’s been watching them for too long. His mug had long since been empty and he hadn’t the mind or the stomach to stand and get another round.
Shaw snaps back to attention when chair legs scrape noisily against the wooden floor and he looks over to see Edwin standing at the girl’s side and pulling her up onto her feet and brushing his lips over her dainty knuckles. She giggles and Edwin takes the time to make direct eye contact with Shaw across the tavern. There’s no surprise in his gaze, nor is there even a more tangible emotion for Shaw to latch onto. There’s no mockery; no challenge in his dark eyes. There’s nothing at all.
When Edwin finally leaves with the girl hanging off of his arm, Shaw decides he’d much rather have that second round after all.
—
As he waits for him in his office, he crosses his arms and does his best to tamp down the irritation and impatience bubbling up within him. Years of training within SI:7 has certainly made him more in control of himself and his ability to not let negative emotions fully overwhelm him, but it was still an active process. He’s hopeful for the day where it comes to him automatically, if that day even exists at all.
Still, hours pass until the doorknob to Edwin’s private office jostles open and Edwin himself appears, doing a quick double take when he sees Shaw leaning back against his table. Several emotions flit across the other man’s face as he takes stock of his unexpected company: confusion, suspicion, and anger. There’s nothing positive in the way he regarded him anymore.
Edwin raises his eyebrows at him expectantly. “Shaw.”
Shaw doesn’t believe in wasting time. “I’ll offer you this opportunity one more time.” He says evenly, keenly aware of the way Edwin’s eyes track his movements like a Stranglethorn jaguar would, waiting for any moment of weakness to pounce upon. “If you keep going down this road, you’ll be dead. We both know it.”
Edwin grunts noncommittally, shrugging as he does. “And I’ll tell you again to stick that opportunity back where it belongs.” He opens the door once more and gestures between Shaw and the open hallway. “I believe that covers everything you had to say. Now, if you’d kindly leave my office, I have actual work that needs to be done. I can give you a detailed rundown on what the Defias plans to do, if you’d like to report it to your beloved king.”
Shaw crosses the distance and shuts the door with more force than he had originally intended and vibrates with a barely restrained anger as he stands firmly in Edwin’s personal space, keeping his voice pitched as low as he can. “I don’t know why you have a death wish and I don’t know why you won’t listen to me.”
“I don’t know why you think I’ll roll over and kiss the king’s boots the way you do. Some of us were born with self respect.” Edwin looks over him and scoffs distastefully. “I had always thought you were one of them.”
Shaw squares his shoulders and desperately tries to reel himself in before this evolves out of his control. “Edwin—“
“No, I know what you want. You want me to take the coward’s way out. You want me to beg for forgiveness and serve the crown like you have, so desperate for approval after you weren’t getting any from me. I know what you want, Matty.”
Things move fast once Shaw throws the first punch square across his jaw and Edwin doesn’t hesitate to return the favor. They exchange blows as they dance around the room, knocking over furniture and snarling as they go until there’s nothing between them to take out their years of pent up aggression on one another. Edwin has always had brute strength on his side but Shaw is faster and more practiced in the way he fights and after a long struggle he’s finally able to get the upper hand once he can predict how Edwin will move next and once his stamina begins to wear out.
The worst part of it is that when he looks down at the other man propped up on his elbows and wiping the blood from his face with venom in his eyes, chest heaving as he catches his breath, he doesn’t hate him. Still, after this, he can’t bring himself to hate him. Underneath the rage and within the impenetrable walls he had barricaded himself within, Shaw can still see the man he fell in love with. He wonders what Edwin sees when he looks at him.
“I’ve done everything I possibly could have done for you, Edwin.” He practically spits down at him, still trying to catch his breath and ignoring the way his lungs ache. “If you’re intent on going through with this let me know now so I don’t have to bother trying to save your life anymore.”
Privately, he wants to beg Edwin to let him save his life but he also knows that Edwin would never let him.
Edwin makes him wait, using his shirt to staunch up most of the blood flowing from his nose and wincing when his knuckles brush against the ridge which he had undoubtedly broken. Eventually, he looks back up at Shaw. “You still call me Edwin?” He asks with the clear intent to mock him if his feral smirk is anything to go by but the way his brows draw together betrays him at the last moment. There’s a sincerity and sentimentality in the question that Shaw doubts he would ever have heard if Edwin hadn’t had a significant amount of blood loss.
Shaw takes this time to give him the last once over he’s like to give him on equal footing. He could think about how he had never even once worked up the courage to tell Edwin that he loved him but it hardly seems appropriate or helpful in this situation so he pushes it aside.
“You’ve never been anything else,” he says simply. He has nothing else to say and as he soon finds out, neither does Edwin.
The next time he sees Edwin he’s nothing more than a decapitated head on a pike being paraded through the streets of Stormwind. He employs the tactic he will use until his dying day and steels himself against it, locking his emotions in a dark corner of his mind that he leaves to gather dust and turning the other way.