He doesn't stop him, he never wanted him to stop. There was so much in that kiss, in Hawke's eyes, in his gentle touch and Anders could feel all of it and was blissfully drowning in it.
He would never stop being thankful he'd woken up with his memories and Hawke there by his side. He needed Hawke more than he could ever explain, to the man himself or anyone who asked. How could you explain needing air to breathe? Adalwolfe Hawke was everything he ever wanted and a hundred times more than he ever deserved. In one breath, he could tell Hawke to leave him for his own good, promise the poisons Anders would bring into his life and in the next tell him exactly how much better Anders' life had been in the last ten years than it had ever been in the twenty-five before. He was selfish and, unfortunately for this amazing and wonderful man, he'd be selfish until the day he died and keep Hawke to himself. He wasn't just Anders' savior or his Champion, as much as Anders liked to joke about it, he was Anders' lover and soul. Hawke protected and supported him...but he protected and supported Hawke. Heroes needed to be comforted and held and cherished as much as those they sacrificed themselves for and, even if Hawke could do so much better than him, Anders would be that barrier between Adalwolfe and the world for as along as the light of his life wanted him there.
If that was forever, then he was more blessed than any Chantry in Thedas.
More blessed than any mage in all of history to have a man who swore to stand at his side for the rest of their lives, come what may. That was a fairy tale in any tower, for any apostate, and yet it was their reality. Sometimes, it was too much to think about.
"Adalwolfe..." It's a breathy whisper against Hawke's lips and Anders kisses him again, this time with a touch more passion in it. Not fire, he didn't want them to burn each other with exquisitely fierce passion, he just wanted something solid and certain. A promise and a passion born from knowing they both made it whole-heartedly.
Anders could feel Wolfe stiffening under him and his body responded in kind, more than ready to begin making up for those nights where his hand on him and his own fingers inside were a pale comparison to the real thing. Gently, he took Hawke's wrists behind him and pulled them up to the waistband of his smalls. He hooked his own thumbs in them to start tugging them down with the anticipation his love would understand and help him in his quest to rid them of what little clothing stood between them.
It only takes a little maneuvering to get what Anders is aiming for. Wolfe understands the implicitly in the movement and follows in kind, slipping Anders' underclothes off of his hips and sliding them down to the abyss of space beyond their bed. Nothing else exists as far as Hawke's concerned, only this.
Anders sits in his lap, legs folded on either side of Hawke's hips, completely naked and bathed in the soft glow of light from the banks near the ceiling. It may be artificial light, but somehow its warm for the soft gold halo it creates behind Anders' head, the coppery sheen it adds to his skin in reflecting off the fine hairs of his arms. His hair is a mess and he's unshaven, unkempt, and utterly gorgeous.
Adalwolfe reaches up to slip a stray lock of hair behind his love's ear, taking in the sight of him, all planes and angles and perfect imperfections. Scars line his torso, but it's the same for them both. More to rake his eyes over, to recommit to memory. Wolfe rests one hand on Anders' hip, feeling the small jut of bone under the thin flesh there. Always too thin but familiar in that. His other hand he slips down from Anders' cheek, a soft caress that ends with his palm against the curve of his lover's neck, his thumb brushing small circles in the line of his jaw.
"Maker's breath, I've missed the sight of you." Wolfe breathes the words with all the reverence of a Chantry service, knowing he's seen Anders in the Fleet before this, before his memory returned, but it's different. It's different to have this view, one only granted to him by the grace of the man in his lap.
Anders' hand skates along each plane and dip in the muscles of Wolfe's abdomen gently, but when that hand moves down to his neck, his hands come up to take it in both of his. One hand makes small soft movements, a slow and subtle massage of the muscles in Hawke's arm while the other holds the back of his lover's hand near to his face. His actions hold as much reverance as Wolfe's words do, his lips placing adoring kisses to each finger tip in turn along with the palm and the soft inside of Hawke's wrist.
There's a wriggle in the back of his mind, a negativity that always swells up under this level of appreciation and care from Hawke, it was uncomfortable and parroted Anders' anxieties and fears and questions on how Hawke saw anything pleasing in his skinny physique, but Anders had years now of practice at keeping it where it was. He didn't want that interference. He just wanted Hawke and everything he offered Anders. He pressed the hand he'd lavished attention to his left breast, putting his heart in Hawke's hand where it belonged.
"And I you, love. I've missed how your voice catches my breath and the sight of you stutters my heart. I've missed how a mere brush of your fingers thrills my body and soul. I've been incomplete without you and my life was duller for not remembering how much you mean to me."
Wolfe's eyes shine in the dim light at Anders' words. He drinks them in, lets them settle not just in his mind but in his heart too, etched with so many other words of Anders' until his soul is covered in affectionate words and adoring declarations. Its become his armor, his shield against anything the world has to throw at him. Nothing can harm him so long as Anders loves him.
He brushes small circles with his thumb against Anders' chest, feeling the flutter of his heart under his palm and smiling gently. So strong but so fragile, warm as a hearth and heated as a pyre, Anders is a man of dichotomies and Adalwolfe loves each impossible piece. He leans up again, pressing his lips to Anders' mouth reverently.
"I'm going to make love to you," he whispers between them,thumb still brushing light circles at Anders' heart and other hand sliding to press into the small of the healer's back, strong and supporting. "I'm going to make love to you so you know exactly how much I ached for you while I was away. How much I can't live without you by my side. How important you are."
'How much I can't live without you at my side.' Maker, how he longed for that to not be true, his life would surely be short in the end, he didn't want to drag Hawke down with him. Hawke deserved so much more, so much better. Anders was not important. Except to Hawke. He was important to Hawke and, right now, it was just them.
He leaned in through what little distance there was and pressed a tender kiss to Adalwolfe's lips with an equally tender smile. "Yes...I would like that more than anything."
Even with that stuttering whisper in his mind, his words were completely honest. Making love to Hawke was something he cherished deeply. He'd had his fair share of lovers in his time, certainly more than his partner had in his, but Hawke was the only one Anders had ever made love to. That meant something to him, it was one of the better ways he felt he could convey just how important Adalwolfe was to him as well.
Not the Noble Hawke, not the Champion of Kirkwall, not some renegade apostate, just Adalwolfe. "I love you." He whispered the words, his lips moving against Hawke's as he did, like a kiss that held a promise.
"And I love you," Adalwolfe breathes against his lover's lips and proves it with a kiss, with a slow move of the hand at Anders' back inexorably downward, massaging and seeking with an abundance of care. It's not rushed or overwhelming but instead a soft request expressed with the tips of his fingers slipping between Anders' cheeks, askance for permission to prepare his love, to express his devout worship of the blond in his lap through a physical act.
"I love you so much," he sounds almost choked by it, overwhelmed. The depths of that feeling are so low that even Adalwolfe doesn't know where the bottom lies. He hasn't found it yet and doubts he ever will until the end of his days. He's at peace with that, content to perpetually be buoyed by the tides of their affection. He kisses Anders again, a slow press followed by a nuzzle of his nose against his healer's cheek, their chins scratching stubble against stubble as he slips one finger very carefully inside. "I'm going to do more than just tell you."
A shudder ran up Anders' spine as his love's hand slipped further and further down until he finally felt the pressure of one of those thick fingers pressing in. Goosebumps trailed across his skin and he looped his arms behind Hawke's neck, his fingers tugging and gently stroking at white hair. "We'll show each other." His heart could barely take the amount of affection and adoration in Hawke's words and actions, but he knew those same things were what made his heart soar. The least he could do for his love is give him the same feeling in return.
He dipped his head low and pressed sweet kisses and gentle, playful, nips at Adalwolfe's neck. "We've got all night."
"All day," Adalwolfe corrects gently with the soft huff of a laugh. "At least, I think it's morning. Who can tell in space."
He slides his finger in carefully, heightened to the feel of Anders in his lap, how he reacts to the intrusion, how his body makes minute shifts. He feels overall the hands in his hair, the fingers carding loosely between strands, fingernails grazing his scalp. He loves that feeling and exhales softly against Anders' shoulder, leaning in to rest his forehead there, kissing whatever flesh happens to be under his mouth and relaxing nearly boneless at Anders' long fingers caressing him.
Nearly.
His finger he moves carefully in and out, a slow and lazy pace, meant to build over time. Anders is right, they have all day and night. As long as they want. There's no need to hurry.
"All day." He smirks and makes a gentle scoffing laugh. "It hardly matters." Not when he didn't intend for them to leave until their hands had traced over every inch of each other and their lips had followed each delicate path with dedicated diligence. Not until he'd claimed every inch of this wonderful man for his own.
A low moan quietly threads between them on an exhale for the feeling of any part of Hawke in him. While one hand continues it's gentle carding through his lover's hair, the other slid down so, so slowly. Long calloused fingers slipped over Hawke's shoulder and down his chest, through that fine blanket of white hairs Anders loved playing with, stopping to carefully tease a nipple before skating the rest of the way down to follow that trail of hairs low. Anders' fingers curled expertly around Hawke, his hold fairly slack and gentle, more to tease and encourage than any attempt to stroke his lover off. No, he intended to let his body do that, to feel Adalwolfe release deep inside him instead. A small shudder snaked down his spine at the thought. All in good time.
He nipped up Hawke's neck to his jaw and set to the carefully slow task of lavishing a deep and visible love-mark on the point just below Hawke's jawline. His. The world had tried to take him enough, Anders wouldn't stand for it anymore. Let them find a different Champion to sacrifice to their needs, Adalwolfe Hawke belonged to him.
Adalwolfe lets out a huff of breath then sucks another in against Anders' shoulder as those long and staff-calloused fingers slip around him, just holding for now, but holding in and of itself implies ownership and that thought alone sends a shudder crawling up Hawke's back and warmth pooling lazily in his belly, a want that grows faster as his love latches lips to where his jaw meets his neck and sucking just shy of breaking the skin there. He knows he'll have an angry bruise and the thought makes a small laugh rumble in his chest, light and pleased.
He loves wearing the marks and bites Anders gives him. His mage could leave him black and blue and aching from the waist up and Wolfe would forego a shirt whatever chance he got until the last mark faded, just to show the world and everyone exactly who he belongs to. He loves it, gets off on it, and his fingers move just a little more exuberantly in Anders' body more in reward than retaliation.
"More," he breathes, nearly a whine as he hardens slowly in Anders' grip. He doesn't mean Anders' hand though, he means more marks, more physical evidence of who owns him, body and soul. With another heady sigh, Wolfe moves his head, exposing his throat to Anders' mouth, his teeth, whatever the blond wants to use to claim him, and slips his finger in to the knuckle as he bites his own lip in anticipation.
Anders' breath comes in sharp and then he's sucking at a new spot, the junction of neck and shoulder. He sucked hard and worried the skin with his teeth. His fingers curled tighter, still not stroking, just holding tight exactly the way Hawke had been perceiving it. This too belonged to Anders, just like the rest of the man under his lips and hands.
His other hand moved to the back of Hawke's neck, fingers massaging gently at the muscles there as a contrast to the sharp sting of bites and sucked skin. Carefully, diligently, Anders left mark after mark along one side of Hawke's neck, down to his collarbone, and then up the other.
"Do you like everyone knowing you belong to me, love?" He was still slow, still loving and careful, but his voice was deep, husky with how much love. How much he needed Hawke. Needed to hear Hawke's answer.
He groans, Maker does he groan at Anders claiming him up and down his neck, across his throat, anywhere, everywhere. His groans turn to moans and needy whines, unable to be muffled lest he lean in and force his lover to break the lock of teeth and lips against his tender flesh.
"Love it," Adalwolfe growls, not bothering to watch his volume. He's never been quiet, not when it comes to their love making, not like Anders. Years in a Circle tower will do that, silence born of necessity, but Hawke? What few dalliances he had did not carry such restriction. Yes he had to hide his magic, but he wasn't forbidden from this, from expressing love and lust and much of what made him who he was. Funny, though, how even if the volume remains, he still feels a new man since the very day he met Anders. That was the moment he became someone new, someone who's main goal was to at first fall into bed with a cheeky Warden apostate and so quickly became to entangle them both inextricably.
"Adore it. I want the world to see." He slides his fingers in and out, carefully adding a second as he's so very aware of Anders' fingers curling tighter around him, just enough to add a little pressure. Or maybe it's just him growing to such a hardness that he can feel every little change in pressure. Maybe both.
"I'm yours. Always yours. Please," he doesn't even know what he's asking for, but the word comes out anyway. Adalwolfe may not be a praying man, but in times like this his utterances sound suspiciously like confession, pleading not for the Maker to give him strength but for Anders to give him deliverance in a voice that rumbles his chest with need and makes his eyes bright.
Anders knows why he's usually quiet and he knows Hawke knows, but he will always be thankful Hawke isn't quiet. He never went to the circle, was never cut at and beaten down to fit the mold required, he was never told his feelings weren't allowed and feared the threat of retaliation for letting his lover know how much he needed him. He was raw and unbridled and so full of beautiful passion. Anders felt greedy and selfish drinking it in when he barely had half to offer back, but he drank like a man who hadn't known water in weeks. Every sound from his beloved was encouragement to mark more, harder, longer. He left marks he knew would be visible and some he knew would be there to greet Adalwolfe every time his collar dipped too low or he stripped for the night.
They'd be there for Anders to kiss over and over again, never healing them for the eaqually selfish reason that he wanted to the universe to know who Adalwolfe belonged to as well.
"That's right, my heart. Mine." He whispered it into Hawke's ear, his hand giving a much tighter squeeze than he'd been giving before. Slowly, diligently, that hand slid down Wolfe's length, a slickness following in it's wake. Again, he spoke low into his lover's ear. "What would you like, my Hawke? Would you like me to remind you how much you belong to me?"
Slow? Yes. Kind? He'd made no promise of such a thing. All he swore was that they'd make up for lost time.
"Always," Hawke replies breathlessly, swallowing but feeling his mouth still dry with anticipation as Anders strokes him in a long, slow movement. Maker the things his lover does to him.
"Yes. Yes." He doesn't have any other words but that, stealing a glance at Anders' face from under the snowy fringe of his own hair and biting his lower lip at the possessive hunger he sees in Anders' amber gaze. Hunger for him, only him. How had he almost given this up? How could he have succumbed to despair in the Fade when he had that look to come back to, this touch, everything that Anders is to him. He's all the answers, he's the calm that steals over raging thoughts, he's the flame against the cold. Anders had once called him the brightest light in Kirkwall, but it's Anders that keeps a lantern burning in the dark, a waysign to guide him home. The Darktown healer. Adalwolfe's healer. The only one who can heal him inside and out.
"Yes," he breathes into Anders' neck, just at the base of it where it meets his collar.
This was what they both needed, he was sure. Anders needed to reassure himself Hawke was here and with him and safe in his arms and Hawke needed the reminder that he was needed and loved and that their lives no longer belonged to themselves, but to each other. It wasn't Adalwolfe's to give up in despair, it was Anders' to hold close and protect for all time.
Anders' mouth dipped lower, a mark carefully created and loving left over Hawke's left breast. Then Anders was shifting, reaching behind himself to pull at Hawke's wrist and encourage him to pull his fingers out. Then the healer was shifting forward, his cock trapped between their stomachs as he reached back to position his lover's at his entrance.
With a soft hissing moan that had him throwing his head back with his mouth open in pleasure, Anders steadily lowered himself to take Hawke into his body all the way to the hilt. His hips rocked with very little pause after the insertion. He intended to drive Adalwolfe to pleasures he hadn't had in months. He'd make his Champion scream if he could.
Opposite to the steady rocking of his hips pumping Wolfe's length, Anders' nails found the place just over Hawke's shoulder blades and dug in hard before slowly and carefully slipping down his lover's back. There'd be bright screaming red lines later in the day and Anders would kiss every single one with pride.
Adalwolfe's fingers slide out easily, Anders more than ready for him, and yet still he's so tight when Wolfe presses in that the Champion lets out a groan that rumbles his chest and a shudder goes up his spine. Anders doesn't even stop to adjust, instead immediately beginning to ride Wolfe's cock with a slow and steady rhythm, a slow build, and Wolfe can already tell it's going to be sweet torture until his lover finally grants his release.
Torture punctuated by things like this, by nails digging into his flesh and eliciting a cry just on the heels of that moan, wondering vaguely with what little of his mind isn't lighting up with sadistic pleasure if Anders had drawn blood. He almost wants him to have, but can't even articulate that it would be fine by him, not now. Anders already has his brain trained on action instead of thought.
With an exhale that's several degrees cooler than the room puffed against Anders' chest, Adalwolfe channels his mana into his fingers, tracing them to Anders' sides, sliding slowly between ribs and waist and back again. Slowly, just a background hum at first, Wolfe draws on lightning and just allows it to make itself known, for now. Like static, or that feeling of electricity before a storm. It's subtle and gentle but the edge of it heightens everything else, making both of their skin hum.
Anders' warning is the cooler breath to his chest, but he barely notices it when Hawke's cry echoes in his ears. Maker, he wanted more like that, he wanted to hear what he did to this man he loved so much.
But then that hum vibrated in Anders' skin and made every touch and every inch of friction feel like it was magnified. It sent goosebumps through him and he shuddered.
"Maker, I love when you do that." His nails finished their quest down Hawke's back and came up to grasp at his shoulders so Anders could pepper kisses along Hawke's neck and shoulders as his hips continued to move and adoration tumbled from his lips.
"You're so talented. And clever. You're amazing, Adalwolfe. The most amazing man I've ever known." Just as dirty words could fall from his lips to encourage and entice, so too could prettier things full of the love and awe he felt for his boyfriend. Things he felt needed to be said now more than ever after what Hawke had shared with him. Anders would remind him more than just physically that he was needed.
"Hey, it's your trick." There's a smile in his voice and a heady exhale after. "I just adopted it because I want you to know what you do to me. This-"
He runs his hands up and down again, creeping around behind slowly to trace electric fingers along the bumps of Anders' spine. "This but imagine all the time, whenever you're near. And it's only you, it's only ever been you that makes me feel like this. Like my body hums."
Wolfe closes his eyes, just feeling them both move, feeling the little twitches in Anders' body as he moves sparks across his curves, feels the electricity crackle at the back of his teeth just as sharply as he feels Anders rock himself steadily. "I've never known anyone like you, either. I never knew I could love someone so much, so readily. So... encompassingly."
And it is encompassing. His world revolves around Anders, around his moods, his whims, his desires. He may be the Champion of Kirkwall, a notorious apostate, the man who helped spark a rebellion, who saved a city, who defeated the Arishok, but none of that matters more than the fact that he can make Anders smile.
"Hawke." The words are too sweet and too earnest and they burn at his core, but offer warmth rather than pain. His mind would dismiss them later, allowing only his heart to cling to them in desperation, but right now there was nothing but Adalwolfe. His words were the only ones that held truth.
Anders pushed his weight forward, a hand coming up to brace Adalwolfe's neck while the other slowly lowered them to the bed. His hips still rolled in small thrusts to continue the friction, but it wasn't his focus.
His focus was the thick muscle under his hands as he held down on Hawke's biceps and lavished attention to his broad chest and abdomen. "You do the same to me, my love. There's no one else I feel safer with, no one else I love more. I need you as a man needs air, your absence is suffocating."
His hips jolt down, sending Hawke deeper inside and pulling a gasp from Anders as he arched his spine in pleasure. When his eyes fluttered open again, there's endless depths of warmth and care. "You're the most important man in all of Thedas." He leaned down and whispered a trail of kisses across Hawke's collarbone. "You carry my heart with you."
Anders says his name like a warning and Wolfe is sure he's gone too far. Good. He should go too far with that, he doesn't tell Anders enough how he feels about him, how he aches for him, how when he's not near Adalwolfe feels that he's missing a piece. Anders shoulder know how important he is. He almost says as much, but his love is pushing him back slowly and the threat of being dislodged is so great that he follows the direction without protest or further words.
He's glad he held back. Wolfe listens to Anders' words with a look so far gone it's conceivable he's gone drunk on the praise, still lazily tracing his fingers over every freckle but now without a real angle or much spark in it. He's again just touching to touch, though when Anders rolls his hips down against him he gasps too and bites his lower lip again, eyes dark and muscles quivering under Anders' hands.
"The only reason I'm the most important is because you allow me your heart. I just have the most important job of keeping it--" He swallows, a small sigh raking out of his throat at Anders' mouth moving across his clavicle. "--Safe."
"Remember that, my love." His lips leave a trail down from Hawke's collarbone to his breast, a small smile quirking at Anders' lips when he feels the muscles there twitch under his attentions. His hands slide up Hawke's arms to his shoulders and down, tracing every cut of muscle and plain of skin. Every scar, every imperfection, receives equal attention. Anders has said and done many blasphemous things in his life, but perhaps the careful and diligent worship of Adalwolfe Hawke is the worst offense. And Anders was proud of it.
Life hadn't been kind enough for what this man deserved. Anders hadn't been kind enough, at times. Adalwolfe deserved the world and more and he'd given up hope because a monster had gotten in his head and torn his belief to shreds. Anders would help him rebuild it.
"Remember that. Remember that I love you more than anything. Where you go, I go. When you hurt, I hurt." 'When you die, I die.' It's said in his heart and in his head, but he leaves his lips back to kissing and sucking where they've left their whispered mantra trailed across his Champion's skin. "Never forget that I need you, my heart."
"Never," he whispers back, a fervent answer like the response to a vow. He breathes deep, chest rising under Anders' mouth, hips rising into him too with a slow thrust. All he can feel is the short hairs of Anders' chin scraping across his skin, the tight heat of the inside of him wrapped around him, and the press of those calloused fingers leaving invisible trails across muscle, trails they've left so many times. Marked roads for Anders' fingertips to follow, for only he can find every trail he's forged along Adalwolfe's skin.
All he can smell is the vague acrid scent of the herbs Anders has been trying to make mana potions with, the fresher scent of elfroot, the ever-present tang of blood and of the Fade, all spiked with lightning. He thinks of Anders after storms, sometimes. Crestwood was alive with the scent of him with its long squall. Adalwolfe had found himself so homesick the moment he set foot there. Homesick for their little cottage, for their furs-laden bed. For the smile that had started to come more and more easily the more they got settled, wrinkling at his eyes and stretching his freckles. Alistair had brought a drink to warm them that first night and Hawke had partaken not just for that but because the liquor's color was just the same as his love's eyes.
He moves up again, thrusting slowly just for the feel of the weight of the mage above him, the reassurance that he's really here, that it isn't some well-crafted dream. But if this is a desire demon all in his head, he may well give in for the perfect form it takes.
"I love you," it comes out of him without his bidding, words tumbling from his lips without his having thought them first. It just is. He loves Anders. More than anyone he ever has in his life. He wants him, he needs him. He loves him.
They'd never held back on making certain each knew how the other felt. I love yous, terms of endearment, gentle touches and whispers, paved the way for their heart's intent from day one. Maker, Hawke even moreso with his near three-year attempt at courtship despite Anders continuing to shut him down.
And still, hearing it from Wolfe sent butterflies into his stomach and tripped up his heart. 'No mage I know has ever dared to fall in love.' Andraste damn him for not daring sooner.
"I love you too." He could embellish it, dress it up with a ramble of pretty words and heartfelt declarations as he'd just done, but it didn't feel necessary just now. It simply was. And sometimes, actions worked just as well.
Anders shifted his weight and renewed his grip on Hawke's shoulders to slowly lift himself up and push back down, a steady and deliberately careful pace to tease and drown his lover in the pleasure Anders wished for him.
Anders speaks and Adalwolfe shudders, he moves and the winter mage moans softly, hands running from Anders' sides to his thighs to his stomach, pressing fingers against gently in tactile freedom there to feel his partner rise and fall in more ways. He's not going to last much longer, and while normally that would send Adalwolfe into a frenzied sprint for the edge, this time in this mood he simply observes that fact as he does so many other things, knowing that this is far from the first time and certainly won't be the last. He has Anders, will have Anders for as long as these lives the Maker has seen fit to give them will last.
He says nothing. His head still beats a staccato of I love yous in his chest, the words bubbling in his throat despite already having been said. He wants to repeated over and over, as simple as the declaration was to start. This makes it no more complicated, just more in volume. Anders knows. He has to know, and so Adalwolfe doesn't say it again but instead breathes it, radiates it with every slight twist of his fingers, every shift of his hips to meet his love's weight in his lap. He wraps his arms around Anders just to hold him, sliding his arms in such a way so as to capture the healer's own in the embrace. It's encompassing but warm and Hawke can control the pace like this, grinding headily upwards into Anders with a firm push and hoping the other man is as close as he is. He'd sorely like to finish with both of them tangled like this.
Adalwolfe rests his forehead against Anders', breathing softly and shivering just a bit at not just the sensations but the depth of feeling from them both.
Anders' breath catches as Hawke's arms wrap around him and take over their slow and wonderful pace. A low moan floats on his next exhale and the fingers of one hand wrap tight around Wolfe's side while his other hand wraps around himself, grip firm.
He was just as close and wanted the same thing as Hawke, the thought of them finishing together entangled like this, warming him from his core. "Hawke. Love..." His words tangle with his lover's breaths, their lips so close to touch but just far enough to deny them that pleasure.
Seconds, and the feeling of Hawke deep in him, pressing into sensitive nerves mixed with the feeling of his own hand on him, has Anders' breath catching and his muscles straining tight. His release spills over his hand and between their stomachs pressed together, and the muscles around Hawke's length clenched tight.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
apurrstate) wrote2016-05-03 09:35 pm
no subject
He would never stop being thankful he'd woken up with his memories and Hawke there by his side. He needed Hawke more than he could ever explain, to the man himself or anyone who asked. How could you explain needing air to breathe? Adalwolfe Hawke was everything he ever wanted and a hundred times more than he ever deserved. In one breath, he could tell Hawke to leave him for his own good, promise the poisons Anders would bring into his life and in the next tell him exactly how much better Anders' life had been in the last ten years than it had ever been in the twenty-five before. He was selfish and, unfortunately for this amazing and wonderful man, he'd be selfish until the day he died and keep Hawke to himself. He wasn't just Anders' savior or his Champion, as much as Anders liked to joke about it, he was Anders' lover and soul. Hawke protected and supported him...but he protected and supported Hawke. Heroes needed to be comforted and held and cherished as much as those they sacrificed themselves for and, even if Hawke could do so much better than him, Anders would be that barrier between Adalwolfe and the world for as along as the light of his life wanted him there.
If that was forever, then he was more blessed than any Chantry in Thedas.
More blessed than any mage in all of history to have a man who swore to stand at his side for the rest of their lives, come what may. That was a fairy tale in any tower, for any apostate, and yet it was their reality. Sometimes, it was too much to think about.
"Adalwolfe..." It's a breathy whisper against Hawke's lips and Anders kisses him again, this time with a touch more passion in it. Not fire, he didn't want them to burn each other with exquisitely fierce passion, he just wanted something solid and certain. A promise and a passion born from knowing they both made it whole-heartedly.
Anders could feel Wolfe stiffening under him and his body responded in kind, more than ready to begin making up for those nights where his hand on him and his own fingers inside were a pale comparison to the real thing. Gently, he took Hawke's wrists behind him and pulled them up to the waistband of his smalls. He hooked his own thumbs in them to start tugging them down with the anticipation his love would understand and help him in his quest to rid them of what little clothing stood between them.
no subject
Anders sits in his lap, legs folded on either side of Hawke's hips, completely naked and bathed in the soft glow of light from the banks near the ceiling. It may be artificial light, but somehow its warm for the soft gold halo it creates behind Anders' head, the coppery sheen it adds to his skin in reflecting off the fine hairs of his arms. His hair is a mess and he's unshaven, unkempt, and utterly gorgeous.
Adalwolfe reaches up to slip a stray lock of hair behind his love's ear, taking in the sight of him, all planes and angles and perfect imperfections. Scars line his torso, but it's the same for them both. More to rake his eyes over, to recommit to memory. Wolfe rests one hand on Anders' hip, feeling the small jut of bone under the thin flesh there. Always too thin but familiar in that. His other hand he slips down from Anders' cheek, a soft caress that ends with his palm against the curve of his lover's neck, his thumb brushing small circles in the line of his jaw.
"Maker's breath, I've missed the sight of you." Wolfe breathes the words with all the reverence of a Chantry service, knowing he's seen Anders in the Fleet before this, before his memory returned, but it's different. It's different to have this view, one only granted to him by the grace of the man in his lap.
no subject
There's a wriggle in the back of his mind, a negativity that always swells up under this level of appreciation and care from Hawke, it was uncomfortable and parroted Anders' anxieties and fears and questions on how Hawke saw anything pleasing in his skinny physique, but Anders had years now of practice at keeping it where it was. He didn't want that interference. He just wanted Hawke and everything he offered Anders. He pressed the hand he'd lavished attention to his left breast, putting his heart in Hawke's hand where it belonged.
"And I you, love. I've missed how your voice catches my breath and the sight of you stutters my heart. I've missed how a mere brush of your fingers thrills my body and soul. I've been incomplete without you and my life was duller for not remembering how much you mean to me."
no subject
He brushes small circles with his thumb against Anders' chest, feeling the flutter of his heart under his palm and smiling gently. So strong but so fragile, warm as a hearth and heated as a pyre, Anders is a man of dichotomies and Adalwolfe loves each impossible piece. He leans up again, pressing his lips to Anders' mouth reverently.
"I'm going to make love to you," he whispers between them,thumb still brushing light circles at Anders' heart and other hand sliding to press into the small of the healer's back, strong and supporting. "I'm going to make love to you so you know exactly how much I ached for you while I was away. How much I can't live without you by my side. How important you are."
no subject
He leaned in through what little distance there was and pressed a tender kiss to Adalwolfe's lips with an equally tender smile. "Yes...I would like that more than anything."
Even with that stuttering whisper in his mind, his words were completely honest. Making love to Hawke was something he cherished deeply. He'd had his fair share of lovers in his time, certainly more than his partner had in his, but Hawke was the only one Anders had ever made love to. That meant something to him, it was one of the better ways he felt he could convey just how important Adalwolfe was to him as well.
Not the Noble Hawke, not the Champion of Kirkwall, not some renegade apostate, just Adalwolfe. "I love you." He whispered the words, his lips moving against Hawke's as he did, like a kiss that held a promise.
no subject
"I love you so much," he sounds almost choked by it, overwhelmed. The depths of that feeling are so low that even Adalwolfe doesn't know where the bottom lies. He hasn't found it yet and doubts he ever will until the end of his days. He's at peace with that, content to perpetually be buoyed by the tides of their affection. He kisses Anders again, a slow press followed by a nuzzle of his nose against his healer's cheek, their chins scratching stubble against stubble as he slips one finger very carefully inside. "I'm going to do more than just tell you."
no subject
He dipped his head low and pressed sweet kisses and gentle, playful, nips at Adalwolfe's neck. "We've got all night."
no subject
He slides his finger in carefully, heightened to the feel of Anders in his lap, how he reacts to the intrusion, how his body makes minute shifts. He feels overall the hands in his hair, the fingers carding loosely between strands, fingernails grazing his scalp. He loves that feeling and exhales softly against Anders' shoulder, leaning in to rest his forehead there, kissing whatever flesh happens to be under his mouth and relaxing nearly boneless at Anders' long fingers caressing him.
Nearly.
His finger he moves carefully in and out, a slow and lazy pace, meant to build over time. Anders is right, they have all day and night. As long as they want. There's no need to hurry.
no subject
A low moan quietly threads between them on an exhale for the feeling of any part of Hawke in him. While one hand continues it's gentle carding through his lover's hair, the other slid down so, so slowly. Long calloused fingers slipped over Hawke's shoulder and down his chest, through that fine blanket of white hairs Anders loved playing with, stopping to carefully tease a nipple before skating the rest of the way down to follow that trail of hairs low. Anders' fingers curled expertly around Hawke, his hold fairly slack and gentle, more to tease and encourage than any attempt to stroke his lover off. No, he intended to let his body do that, to feel Adalwolfe release deep inside him instead. A small shudder snaked down his spine at the thought. All in good time.
He nipped up Hawke's neck to his jaw and set to the carefully slow task of lavishing a deep and visible love-mark on the point just below Hawke's jawline. His. The world had tried to take him enough, Anders wouldn't stand for it anymore. Let them find a different Champion to sacrifice to their needs, Adalwolfe Hawke belonged to him.
no subject
He loves wearing the marks and bites Anders gives him. His mage could leave him black and blue and aching from the waist up and Wolfe would forego a shirt whatever chance he got until the last mark faded, just to show the world and everyone exactly who he belongs to. He loves it, gets off on it, and his fingers move just a little more exuberantly in Anders' body more in reward than retaliation.
"More," he breathes, nearly a whine as he hardens slowly in Anders' grip. He doesn't mean Anders' hand though, he means more marks, more physical evidence of who owns him, body and soul. With another heady sigh, Wolfe moves his head, exposing his throat to Anders' mouth, his teeth, whatever the blond wants to use to claim him, and slips his finger in to the knuckle as he bites his own lip in anticipation.
no subject
His other hand moved to the back of Hawke's neck, fingers massaging gently at the muscles there as a contrast to the sharp sting of bites and sucked skin. Carefully, diligently, Anders left mark after mark along one side of Hawke's neck, down to his collarbone, and then up the other.
"Do you like everyone knowing you belong to me, love?" He was still slow, still loving and careful, but his voice was deep, husky with how much love. How much he needed Hawke. Needed to hear Hawke's answer.
no subject
"Love it," Adalwolfe growls, not bothering to watch his volume. He's never been quiet, not when it comes to their love making, not like Anders. Years in a Circle tower will do that, silence born of necessity, but Hawke? What few dalliances he had did not carry such restriction. Yes he had to hide his magic, but he wasn't forbidden from this, from expressing love and lust and much of what made him who he was. Funny, though, how even if the volume remains, he still feels a new man since the very day he met Anders. That was the moment he became someone new, someone who's main goal was to at first fall into bed with a cheeky Warden apostate and so quickly became to entangle them both inextricably.
"Adore it. I want the world to see." He slides his fingers in and out, carefully adding a second as he's so very aware of Anders' fingers curling tighter around him, just enough to add a little pressure. Or maybe it's just him growing to such a hardness that he can feel every little change in pressure. Maybe both.
"I'm yours. Always yours. Please," he doesn't even know what he's asking for, but the word comes out anyway. Adalwolfe may not be a praying man, but in times like this his utterances sound suspiciously like confession, pleading not for the Maker to give him strength but for Anders to give him deliverance in a voice that rumbles his chest with need and makes his eyes bright.
no subject
They'd be there for Anders to kiss over and over again, never healing them for the eaqually selfish reason that he wanted to the universe to know who Adalwolfe belonged to as well.
"That's right, my heart. Mine." He whispered it into Hawke's ear, his hand giving a much tighter squeeze than he'd been giving before. Slowly, diligently, that hand slid down Wolfe's length, a slickness following in it's wake. Again, he spoke low into his lover's ear. "What would you like, my Hawke? Would you like me to remind you how much you belong to me?"
Slow? Yes. Kind? He'd made no promise of such a thing. All he swore was that they'd make up for lost time.
no subject
"Yes. Yes." He doesn't have any other words but that, stealing a glance at Anders' face from under the snowy fringe of his own hair and biting his lower lip at the possessive hunger he sees in Anders' amber gaze. Hunger for him, only him. How had he almost given this up? How could he have succumbed to despair in the Fade when he had that look to come back to, this touch, everything that Anders is to him. He's all the answers, he's the calm that steals over raging thoughts, he's the flame against the cold. Anders had once called him the brightest light in Kirkwall, but it's Anders that keeps a lantern burning in the dark, a waysign to guide him home. The Darktown healer. Adalwolfe's healer. The only one who can heal him inside and out.
"Yes," he breathes into Anders' neck, just at the base of it where it meets his collar.
no subject
This was what they both needed, he was sure. Anders needed to reassure himself Hawke was here and with him and safe in his arms and Hawke needed the reminder that he was needed and loved and that their lives no longer belonged to themselves, but to each other. It wasn't Adalwolfe's to give up in despair, it was Anders' to hold close and protect for all time.
Anders' mouth dipped lower, a mark carefully created and loving left over Hawke's left breast. Then Anders was shifting, reaching behind himself to pull at Hawke's wrist and encourage him to pull his fingers out. Then the healer was shifting forward, his cock trapped between their stomachs as he reached back to position his lover's at his entrance.
With a soft hissing moan that had him throwing his head back with his mouth open in pleasure, Anders steadily lowered himself to take Hawke into his body all the way to the hilt. His hips rocked with very little pause after the insertion. He intended to drive Adalwolfe to pleasures he hadn't had in months. He'd make his Champion scream if he could.
Opposite to the steady rocking of his hips pumping Wolfe's length, Anders' nails found the place just over Hawke's shoulder blades and dug in hard before slowly and carefully slipping down his lover's back. There'd be bright screaming red lines later in the day and Anders would kiss every single one with pride.
no subject
Torture punctuated by things like this, by nails digging into his flesh and eliciting a cry just on the heels of that moan, wondering vaguely with what little of his mind isn't lighting up with sadistic pleasure if Anders had drawn blood. He almost wants him to have, but can't even articulate that it would be fine by him, not now. Anders already has his brain trained on action instead of thought.
With an exhale that's several degrees cooler than the room puffed against Anders' chest, Adalwolfe channels his mana into his fingers, tracing them to Anders' sides, sliding slowly between ribs and waist and back again. Slowly, just a background hum at first, Wolfe draws on lightning and just allows it to make itself known, for now. Like static, or that feeling of electricity before a storm. It's subtle and gentle but the edge of it heightens everything else, making both of their skin hum.
no subject
But then that hum vibrated in Anders' skin and made every touch and every inch of friction feel like it was magnified. It sent goosebumps through him and he shuddered.
"Maker, I love when you do that." His nails finished their quest down Hawke's back and came up to grasp at his shoulders so Anders could pepper kisses along Hawke's neck and shoulders as his hips continued to move and adoration tumbled from his lips.
"You're so talented. And clever. You're amazing, Adalwolfe. The most amazing man I've ever known." Just as dirty words could fall from his lips to encourage and entice, so too could prettier things full of the love and awe he felt for his boyfriend. Things he felt needed to be said now more than ever after what Hawke had shared with him. Anders would remind him more than just physically that he was needed.
no subject
He runs his hands up and down again, creeping around behind slowly to trace electric fingers along the bumps of Anders' spine. "This but imagine all the time, whenever you're near. And it's only you, it's only ever been you that makes me feel like this. Like my body hums."
Wolfe closes his eyes, just feeling them both move, feeling the little twitches in Anders' body as he moves sparks across his curves, feels the electricity crackle at the back of his teeth just as sharply as he feels Anders rock himself steadily. "I've never known anyone like you, either. I never knew I could love someone so much, so readily. So... encompassingly."
And it is encompassing. His world revolves around Anders, around his moods, his whims, his desires. He may be the Champion of Kirkwall, a notorious apostate, the man who helped spark a rebellion, who saved a city, who defeated the Arishok, but none of that matters more than the fact that he can make Anders smile.
no subject
Anders pushed his weight forward, a hand coming up to brace Adalwolfe's neck while the other slowly lowered them to the bed. His hips still rolled in small thrusts to continue the friction, but it wasn't his focus.
His focus was the thick muscle under his hands as he held down on Hawke's biceps and lavished attention to his broad chest and abdomen. "You do the same to me, my love. There's no one else I feel safer with, no one else I love more. I need you as a man needs air, your absence is suffocating."
His hips jolt down, sending Hawke deeper inside and pulling a gasp from Anders as he arched his spine in pleasure. When his eyes fluttered open again, there's endless depths of warmth and care. "You're the most important man in all of Thedas." He leaned down and whispered a trail of kisses across Hawke's collarbone. "You carry my heart with you."
no subject
He's glad he held back. Wolfe listens to Anders' words with a look so far gone it's conceivable he's gone drunk on the praise, still lazily tracing his fingers over every freckle but now without a real angle or much spark in it. He's again just touching to touch, though when Anders rolls his hips down against him he gasps too and bites his lower lip again, eyes dark and muscles quivering under Anders' hands.
"The only reason I'm the most important is because you allow me your heart. I just have the most important job of keeping it--" He swallows, a small sigh raking out of his throat at Anders' mouth moving across his clavicle. "--Safe."
no subject
Life hadn't been kind enough for what this man deserved. Anders hadn't been kind enough, at times. Adalwolfe deserved the world and more and he'd given up hope because a monster had gotten in his head and torn his belief to shreds. Anders would help him rebuild it.
"Remember that. Remember that I love you more than anything. Where you go, I go. When you hurt, I hurt." 'When you die, I die.' It's said in his heart and in his head, but he leaves his lips back to kissing and sucking where they've left their whispered mantra trailed across his Champion's skin. "Never forget that I need you, my heart."
no subject
All he can smell is the vague acrid scent of the herbs Anders has been trying to make mana potions with, the fresher scent of elfroot, the ever-present tang of blood and of the Fade, all spiked with lightning. He thinks of Anders after storms, sometimes. Crestwood was alive with the scent of him with its long squall. Adalwolfe had found himself so homesick the moment he set foot there. Homesick for their little cottage, for their furs-laden bed. For the smile that had started to come more and more easily the more they got settled, wrinkling at his eyes and stretching his freckles. Alistair had brought a drink to warm them that first night and Hawke had partaken not just for that but because the liquor's color was just the same as his love's eyes.
He moves up again, thrusting slowly just for the feel of the weight of the mage above him, the reassurance that he's really here, that it isn't some well-crafted dream. But if this is a desire demon all in his head, he may well give in for the perfect form it takes.
"I love you," it comes out of him without his bidding, words tumbling from his lips without his having thought them first. It just is. He loves Anders. More than anyone he ever has in his life. He wants him, he needs him. He loves him.
no subject
And still, hearing it from Wolfe sent butterflies into his stomach and tripped up his heart. 'No mage I know has ever dared to fall in love.' Andraste damn him for not daring sooner.
"I love you too." He could embellish it, dress it up with a ramble of pretty words and heartfelt declarations as he'd just done, but it didn't feel necessary just now. It simply was. And sometimes, actions worked just as well.
Anders shifted his weight and renewed his grip on Hawke's shoulders to slowly lift himself up and push back down, a steady and deliberately careful pace to tease and drown his lover in the pleasure Anders wished for him.
no subject
He says nothing. His head still beats a staccato of I love yous in his chest, the words bubbling in his throat despite already having been said. He wants to repeated over and over, as simple as the declaration was to start. This makes it no more complicated, just more in volume. Anders knows. He has to know, and so Adalwolfe doesn't say it again but instead breathes it, radiates it with every slight twist of his fingers, every shift of his hips to meet his love's weight in his lap. He wraps his arms around Anders just to hold him, sliding his arms in such a way so as to capture the healer's own in the embrace. It's encompassing but warm and Hawke can control the pace like this, grinding headily upwards into Anders with a firm push and hoping the other man is as close as he is. He'd sorely like to finish with both of them tangled like this.
Adalwolfe rests his forehead against Anders', breathing softly and shivering just a bit at not just the sensations but the depth of feeling from them both.
no subject
He was just as close and wanted the same thing as Hawke, the thought of them finishing together entangled like this, warming him from his core. "Hawke. Love..." His words tangle with his lover's breaths, their lips so close to touch but just far enough to deny them that pleasure.
Seconds, and the feeling of Hawke deep in him, pressing into sensitive nerves mixed with the feeling of his own hand on him, has Anders' breath catching and his muscles straining tight. His release spills over his hand and between their stomachs pressed together, and the muscles around Hawke's length clenched tight.
(no subject)
(no subject)