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.
"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.
Anders' breath stutters and a small sound of pleasure escapes him as he feels Hawke's final push into him and his release, his breathing wonderfully ragged to try and keep up with the pace of his heart. But now they're both a mess and so perfectly satisfied in each other and nothing else existed but them and the sanctuary of Hawke's presence.
His name is whispered between them and the sheer emotion in that rich voice of his lover sends a tremble down Anders' spine. He can't move fast enough to meet those kisses, so he merely enjoys the feeling of them with his eyes closed in rapture, but then Hawke speaks again and the words bring a familiar twisting to his insides that he easily pushes away. He could hardly disagree more with that sentiment, but he had plenty of practice at pushing it away again. The only sign it was even there was in the way his expression shifted as his eyes met Hawke's.
There were near desperate amounts of adoration in Anders' eyes, mixed with love and happiness and that slight edge that said 'I don't know how you can think these things, but I'm blessed to hear them.' It was all he could do these days when Hawke made such deep proclamations of his devotion and all Anders could do was think of all the pain and trouble he'd brought to Wolfe's life. And yet they were both still here, years later and far too late to change a thing about it now, so all he could do was acknowledge Adalwolfe Hawke was far more than Anders could ever even dream of deserving and offer every ounce of reverence and devotion the healer had in him.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
apurrstate) wrote2016-05-03 09:35 pm
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
"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.
no subject
His name is whispered between them and the sheer emotion in that rich voice of his lover sends a tremble down Anders' spine. He can't move fast enough to meet those kisses, so he merely enjoys the feeling of them with his eyes closed in rapture, but then Hawke speaks again and the words bring a familiar twisting to his insides that he easily pushes away. He could hardly disagree more with that sentiment, but he had plenty of practice at pushing it away again. The only sign it was even there was in the way his expression shifted as his eyes met Hawke's.
There were near desperate amounts of adoration in Anders' eyes, mixed with love and happiness and that slight edge that said 'I don't know how you can think these things, but I'm blessed to hear them.' It was all he could do these days when Hawke made such deep proclamations of his devotion and all Anders could do was think of all the pain and trouble he'd brought to Wolfe's life. And yet they were both still here, years later and far too late to change a thing about it now, so all he could do was acknowledge Adalwolfe Hawke was far more than Anders could ever even dream of deserving and offer every ounce of reverence and devotion the healer had in him.