"Oh, Anders..." Adalwolfe whispers into his love's neck, feeling the blond tremble around him, panting and clenching as he reaches his peak and the feeling of knowing he made Anders spill over them both and the sensation of tight heat is more than enough to send him tumbling over himself, filling Anders with his spend and clutching tightly, dizzily, so he remains grounded despite the heady sensation. It feels a bit like vertigo, letting himself go so completely into his love that he can feel Anders expand as he twitches and pulses, drained dry. He shivers himself once he's spent, every sensation in stark relief to his nerves all standing at attention. Anders' hand on his side, the sweat that crawls slowly from his hair down his back from their exertion. The soft rabbit thumps of Anders' heart against his chest, his own beating in tandem as they gently slow.

"Anders..." He whispers again, full of love, full of promise that this is where they'll stay, tangled in one another and satisfied, always. Adalwolfe kisses Anders' face. His cheeks, his nose, his mouth. "You're so perfect, Anders. So good for me."

One hand slips through his hair, cupping the healer's cheek as Wolfe looks at him with such fondness that if it were a scene in a play it would be embarrassing in the stark and open portrayal of affection. But Wolfe doesn't care. He's never cared about that, only that Anders knows just how much he means to him. How much of everything in Hawke's world is tied up in him.

"I love you," again whispered, just for them.