they'll rip you apart, i swear that they will.

[vengeant]

[ by the time the shadows have lengthened across the ground outside the double doors, hanging open on their hinges from the last grateful family to leave, the clinic has all but been emptied out. it's a strange sight, only tempered by the image of people huddled in ragged clothes not far outside the dooryard. if darktown ever stopped harboring masses of refugees, or smelling of mildew and effluent, he'd have to — well, pick up and move shop elsewhere. it would be quieter, but no-one needs a clinic where there are no people.

anders doesn't nudge the doors shut when he walks back from leaning out of them. the lanterns are enough to write by, but the cast of the sunlight across the bare floors could almost make him believe that there isn't miles of rock situated threateningly above his head. maybe if he squints.

he can't forget where he is, or what it is he's doing. it's a stake stuck in the soft earth inside of him, in the heart of him. the heart is just another part of the body. physically, he knows what he is, who this flesh and blood and bone belong to. the rest, he's not so certain. but they share a common goal, one they might — must — achieve. a basin of lukewarm water is resting on the floor beside anders' desk. he kneels to heat it with his fingertips just breaking the surface, and scrubs his hands clean after with a stiff cloth. he leaves the cloth to dry over the rim and wipes his face with his damp, pink hands, rough stubble scraping his palms, before he pats them dry against his trousers. a message, an idea, can't be destroyed as easily as a body. nor can a spirit. but they've reconciled their differences.

tucked in the back is a clean cot, and he eyes it after he draws himself up from the floor, but somehow the chair tucked under the desk with its hard wooden back ends up presenting itself as the more inviting choice. so he sits, bent forward, and doesn't write, thumbing the pages of an unfinished manifesto, plucking at the feathered end of a worn, ink-stained quill. ]

Comments

[vengeant]

[ they'll be here a while if the cot doesn't give out. maybe even then.

anders' eyelashes flutter when hawke touches his chest, his shoulder, no real muscle to speak of under his pale skin. the lifestyle he's lead hasn't been very sedentary, but equally so it hasn't given him much chance to fill out. it's been a long time since he ever thought to be self-conscious about it with his background, but it's kind of difficult not to notice the differences between him and hawke. mages from very disparate upbringings; that's never been more obvious. strange how these things show. his throat moves when he swallows — he's thinking of kissing hawke again when he picks him up.

it probably shouldn't shock him that hawke is handsy. it probably also shouldn't shock him that hawke can carry his weight like it's nothing. it doesn't stop him from laughing, surprised and breathless, or grabbing onto hawke's shoulders even though he's not afraid to fall. he isn't being squeezed very hard, but the sensation makes his chest tighten. looking over hawke's shoulder he has the wherewithal to draw his legs up so he doesn't bash his knees into the wooden strut, and then he's in hawke's lap. panting dumbly. squeezing his thighs around hawke's hips. his pants feel too tight.

anders relaxes his arms from around his shoulders so he can draw back and kiss him like he meant to. ]

[havik]

Anders...

[ he barely gets the words out before they're kissing again, anders in his lap like he's always belonged there. maybe he has. hawke's been trying not to look back and live in regret these days, so rather than think about all the time he's wasted not having anders in his lap, he'd prefer to enjoy the moment.

he spreads his hands over and down anders's thighs, enjoying the the hard, lean muscle under the palms of his hands. he squeezes when he reaches the space where anders's thighs meet his hips. he tilts his face up into the kiss, leaning forward as the cot creaks under their bodies. despite how light he was in hawke's arms, he feels heavy in his lap, making hawke throb between his legs.

the cot's sturdier than it looks. anders is too.

hawke's flushed beneath his clothes, the layers that kept him warm through the streets now proving a hindrance to him. he lets go of anders just long enough to peel apart the separate sides of his tunic where anders already loosed them from his sash. he already started the job for him. hawke's just helping things along, shrugging to bare his shoulders. ]

[vengeant]

[ anders' hands find their way to hawke's chest, fingers unfolded against his pectoral muscles, hair sticking to his damp palms. he scratches his nails from his collar down, making tiny furrows all the way to his belly where his hair thins for tan skin and soft, taut muscle, where their bodies are too close together for him to fit his hands at this angle. he turns his wrist to stick the fingers of his right hand between them, lifting his hips precariously so that he can grope at hawke through his trousers.

his left hand slides around hawke's side to touch over his back, follow the long, sturdy line his backbone makes up from his hips, over the subtle curve of his ribcage, over the flat blades of his shoulders, and his heavy, muscular shoulders. with their mouths still together, lips sticking, he touches his fingertips to the vertebrae at the base of the neck, and up until the small, fine hairs at the base of the skull, catching them between his fingers. he doesn't pull. he pushes hawke toward him, moves his mouth against his, licking over his tongue and his teeth, groaning into his mouth. his chest rumbles with the sound pulled deep from his center. there's sweat gathering in the dip at the small of his back.

it feels cruel when he takes his hand away from between their bodies to clutch at hawke's sides instead, to squeeze him high under his arms before he arches his back and presses their chests together, raises his hands higher and shoves him by the shoulders. ]

[havik]

[ hawke shivers under anders's scrutiny, closing his eyes while he feels his hands rove over his chest. he groans when anders wiggles his hand between their bodies, pushing his hips up greedily into the pressure of his touch. he's got too many things he wants to do, his brain firing in too many directions to be able to following any single thought through. it makes him feel oddly reactive. trust him to freeze up in the bedroom, when everywhere else he's always been quick to jump and think about the consequences later.

with anders, he thinks he's spent too long contemplating his actions. they've got some time to make up for. his kissing turns sloppy, mouth hanging open slightly as he hitches his hips up in slow, needy thrusts. hawke lets out another groan, this one in faint protest when anders frees his hand from between their bodies again.

because he's focused on what he's lost, he's not expecting it when anders gets his hands on his chest to push. hawke goes down easily on his back, reaching to feel for the wall behind him in a half-hearted effort not to crack his head. he spreads his legs to make room for anders's weight between them, using gravity to his advantage. he bites anders's lip again, digging his teeth carefully into the soft flesh. ]

Why do I feel like you've done this far more intelligently than I have?

[ he's still in his boots, for one. hawke hooks his calf around anders's bare one, holding him in with his arms and legs both. ]

[vengeant]

[ anders can't catch his shiver with hawke getting tangled up in him, holding him against his body while gravity pushes him down, ankle caught around ankle. there's no fighting it, and he makes another obscene sound with hawke's teeth in his lip. he has to swallow two, three times before he can find his voice, eyes flickering open, nose pressed to a high cheekbone, breath damp. he kisses hawke's cheek, drags his lips over the short, sharp hairs. ]

You're... remarkable.

[ there's nothing stopping him from rubbing his hips into hawke's, so he reaches above them to curl the fingers of both hands around the strut over their heads and apply it as leverage, putting his entire body into the movement. his flush is a full-body flush, pink everything. hawke, at least, can hide behind his complexion, although the way he moves gives everything else away — it's a hungry, parched wanting. anders finds it simple to match. his arms are shaking. his throat and lungs both burn, and it's not purely psychological. sometimes he's convinced his body is going to warp under the pressure of having two souls inside it — he knows what he is, and hawke knows what he is — so he wants to show him how he feels while he's able.

it's not his choice when he lets go, but he finds a better place for his hands to rest, returning them to lay against hawke's sides. ]

If I were doing this intelligently, I'd have invested in a bed. Or a mattress, at least.

[ his voice comes out muffled against hawke's cheek. it doesn't make any sense, what he's saying, since it's not as though he knew this would happen, but he doesn't much care. he breathes in deeply, ducking his head to tuck his face against the side of hawke's neck, kissing over his pulse point, kissing the junction between neck and shoulder where the muscle's big and hard. his fingers are tucked against the place where the last curved rib bone gives way to softer parts of the body. ]

[havik]

[ hawke shudders, his breathing running thin when anders gets a bit of leverage to rock their hips together. it's a sudden pressure and press he isn't expecting, the resulting flush of heat through his thighs and between his legs making his cock throb. he keeps returning to the same conclusion: that he knew anders would be good at this. that it shouldn't be any surprise to have it demonstrated against his own body. but he keeps on being shocked and appreciative. he should have done this years ago, but he knows that too.

hawke doesn't feel remarkable. that's not the word he wants. he feels small and a little shaky, like anders is the skeleton key made to undo him from the inside out. he does it so effortlessly too. that's his favorite part.

well, they haven't been at this long enough for hawke to start picking out his favorites yet. but he feels confident in his decision. he's certainly not bound to pick anything wrong, anyway. there's too much good to choose from. ]

Anders.

[ it's all he can manage. he's breathless, desperate to get out of his trousers and into a more intimate position with anders. he can feel his heart hammering in his chest; they're so close that he figures anders must hear it too, but that's irrelevant. he's not alone, it's not just him. his pulse flutters under anders's mouth; he's sweating under his trousers. he came to anders because when they're together he's never in it by himself. hawke reaches up, holding anders's face close to his own where he's breathing hot against his cheek. ]

I think I'll serve rather decently as a mattress, don't you?

[ he slides his hands down anders's back to feel over the curves of his ass, cupping the muscle under his palms and giving him a firm squeeze. ]

[vengeant]

[ some patience is going to be required if they want to see this through to its obvious conclusion. he can't say what, exactly, they both want, but he knows they're aiming for trousers off, and that should be easy enough to follow through on. anders pushes his ass up into hawke's hands, taking advantage of that moment to slither his own hands down along the sides of his stomach, his hips, and hook his fingers beneath the hem of his trousers to tug them down curtly below his knees. traveling the way back up he feels over hawke's muscled thighs, squeezing, holding his hips while he has the room to maneuver, cupping him in hand and pressing him against his belly, fingertips tender at the base of his cock up to the tip, where he rubs the underside with the pad of his thumb. he puts an elbow down by hawke's side and makes for his own pants when he can take his hand away, picking the laces open with trembly fingers and pushing them down one hip at a time until he's exposed under hawke's warm, work-worn hands.

after he's done a satisfactory job he settles himself down on top of his body, stretching out over the length of him, knocking their knobby anklebones together. ]

You'll hear no complaints from me.

[ anders swallows, wondering if hawke can hear the sound. he can't hear his heart beating, but he can feel his pulse through his stomach where their stomachs are touching, through his cock where he's trapped between them; he can feel his own pulse just as loudly as he lifts his head to meet hawke's mouth, touch their lips together. ]

I've wanted this for so long. I never thought...

[ that this was possible. that the world worked that way. his life doesn't work this way, which is what makes it so easy to believe, and be convinced of, the way things must end. it's a cause-effect law.

it isn't as though he expects to escape judgement; or justice. ]

[havik]

[ hawke's lips part when he feels the kiss of cold air against his hips and thighs when anders tugs down his trousers. the damp of his sweat sends goosebumps along his sensitive skin, making his breathing catch. he should feel a little more humbled, by anders's skills in maneuvering them into place, but he's too busy enjoying himself. there's no room for shame when this feels like the easiest decision he's made in years.

he bites into his own lip when anders's fingers brush his cock, giving him a look that's a little sly, like they both know what he's doing here. they do. he draws his legs up to get his heels on the bed, giving himself leverage to push his cock up into anders's where they're both bared to the air, rubbing up against anders's fingers and using his hands on his ass to hold him in close. ]

Ideally not.

[ complaints seem like something he should be trying to avoid, in an intimate setting. he would prefer it that anders had no reason to complain. he grips anders's ass now that it's bare under his hands, loosening his hold to give him a little smack. he's just improvising, moving on impulse to enjoy the fact that he's finally got anders under his hands.

if they've both been waiting for this, he doesn't know what took them so long. he kisses anders back hungrily when their lips brush together, hitching his hips up to see if he can rub himself up against anders's cock again. it's not as if he's never been in bed with another man before. but there's something about this man that makes hawke want to savor the moment. he doesn't want to blow past anything that would make for a good memory later. even the stiff canvas under his back is adding to the moment.

hawke lifts his hands to cup anders's face, holding him gently in place. ]

I'm sorry it took me so long.

[vengeant]

[ when hawke looks at him he smiles, smug — he knows he knows what he's doing. and when hawke takes his face in his hands, his heart seems to stop, even though he knows it's just a feeling, everything catching up to him at once. anders has never dealt well with being caught. ]

No. This isn't your fault.

[ it takes all of his self-control not to say right out that it's his, and then in the moment after he's swallowed the urge the next thing he has to restrain is the compulsion to say that it's fenris who's to blame for keeping hawke unknowing for so long, for leaving him in the dark for three years after the death of his mother. clearing the air was too difficult, evidently. maybe he's incapable of the emotional depth to understand what it's done to hawke, all of this tight-leashed waiting around for nothing. fenris doesn't have anything to give.

anders would like to believe that he does, at least in this, if nothing else.

his body moves back against hawke's, slipping where their skin is gathering sweat. he drags his mouth over hawke's cheek, rasps his tongue over skin and tastes salt, something that makes him think of the sea, and how he once wanted to sail it. most of his erstwhile desires have been far-flung for his position; wanting freedom as a mage, wanting a full life as a grey warden, wanting hawke as whatever it is that he is now, tainted and possessed. hawke knows all of these things about him. ]

Name anything, and I'll do it.

[ he finds hawke's ear with his teeth and tugs, nose in his hair. ]

[havik]

[ hawke smooths his thumbs over anders's face, feeling the soft rasp of his facial hair where it catches against his calluses. he knows it's neither of their faults, deep down, but he can't help but apologize. if he'd worked things out a little sooner it might have been better. sometimes he feels like that's going to be his legacy as champion. he leans up on his elbows to brush his lips against anders's mouth, pushing close to kiss him deeply.

since the death of his mother he hasn't had the heart to take anything for himself. but he's breaking that fast now. he deserves this. and the voice at the back of his mind that's always sounded suspiciously like his father suggests that maybe it's something anders needs too.

he gets chills when anders offers himself up, releasing his face so he can drop his hands to anders's back, feeling over the slender musculature that leads down to his hips. he hitches anders's body up against his own again, enjoying the feel of their bodies where they rub up against one another, growing sweaty and slick in the stale air of the clinic. ]

Would you fuck me?

[ it comes out halfway between joking and sincere. his smile's small, but it lingers on his face. in their flirtations up to this point, hawke's always managed to be coy, but now that they're actually getting down to the business of the thing, he's feeling strangely earnest. that's always his downfall when it comes to these things. but for some reason, he's got this sense that anders might not mind so much. ]

[vengeant]

[ anders pushes himself up on his elbows to feel his muscles shift around under hawke's strong fingers, strong hands gliding across his back where old scar tissue offers itself up in barely-defined lines and ridges, in thin, soft-as-vellum skin. some are younger than others, but his mind's not there right now; it's unbearably and wonderfully present, cock hard and trapped between their bellies while he thinks of every way that he could make hawke feel good. it's something, knowing he has the capacity. knowing he's being allowed the chance, hawke even knowing what he does about him. it's a point that can't be made enough. it's something he can't begin to take for granted.

mostly because he's convinced it can't be allowed to last.

his eyelashes flutter, mouth open in the shape of a word. anders swallows again. ]

Yes. Maker, yes.

Is that what you want? Me inside of you?

[ it's a habit of his to assume hawke's sincerity, but he knows know he isn't always serious, and that he can change his mind. and he would do anything. anything they can think of. right now, they have everything. all of this, all of each other.

his hands find their ways to hawke's hips, then his thighs, to hold him above his knees. in his head he's already considering positions. it makes his cock twitch. ]

[havik]

[ hawke wriggles under anders's touch, spreading his thighs slightly just to give him room, or maybe to show him that he can. this has already lasted longer than all of hawke's previous sexual experiences put together. he's never really had the time or the inclination to make it last, or do anything fancy. he's never felt about anyone the way he does about anders.

it makes him want to try new things. ]

Unless you had something else in mind, of course.

[ he wants to be accommodating to anders's needs. he can feel his face flush beneath his beard as he realizes what that sounds like, that he's evading the question. he's not trying to do that. ]

It is. It's what I want.

[ he takes in a breath to correct himself, but leaves it there. he doesn't want to sound too decisive, like he came here with one image in mind and nothing else will do. he's open to whatever anders wants of him, in a way that his position mirrors: open and easy, on his back with anders between his legs. he squeezes anders's waist between his thighs, letting himself fall back against the cot underneath him. ]

If you'll have me.

[vengeant]

I said you're always welcome.

[ anders smiles lopsidedly; he's not one for making jokes in moments like these, but he has the urge from time to time. even if immediately after the urge to come clean arises. it's a little problem he has, though he isn't sure he considers it a problem. there was a long time when he didn't show anyone anything meaningful, but it was another side-effect of his upbringing, and nothing so deeply, dangerously embedded that he couldn't shed it. somewhere between vigil's keep and kirkwall he let that part of himself go, and moved a little further from the man the circle of magi made him.

not far enough. but who would he be, if those experiences hadn't shaped him? it rankles him that he can't even imagine it.

he licks over his lips, eyes darting between hawke's eyes and his mouth. ]

Of course I'll have you. I've wanted you so long I can't remember what it's like to feel any other way.

[ it's a simple truth. he likes the simple ones.

his hands turn, smoothing over hawke's thighs, and he presses his thumbs to the soft, giving flesh of his inner thighs, tracing along the wiry tendons up to his groin. he keeps his cheek pressed to hawke's cheek while he wanders in mind and hand, deciding the best arrangement for their current accommodations, then getting caught up in the fact of the whole thing. being in bed with hawke. anders lets go of a hot breath and pushes his legs wider apart. his fingers are careful feeling between them while at the same time he turns his head to place another kiss against his mouth. ]

[havik]

You could have said something.

[ the chastisement comes out warm and half-hearted, hawke's mood too good to inject any effort into pretending. he's the one who didn't say anything, back when he had the chance. and according to what anders said earlier, everyone thinks he's with fenris. maybe hawke's wrong, but he imagined that there was nothing still holding them together. he remembers trying to make an effort, and that fenris wasn't interested.

so as far as he's considered, he's been largely alone. until he got a notion to do something about it.

his mouth works as anders's fingers feel their way around and against the shape of his cock. he groans when he spreads his legs, kissing up into anders's mouth the moment he brushes his lips. he's a little self-conscious offering up nothing but himself. it's not often that hawke doesn't have something else on the line, a certain expertise or his charm or his way with a fireball, but this is anders's arena more than it's his. all hawke brings to the table is his incredible enthusiasm. and the fact that it's him, of course.

hawke trails his fingers over anders's ass, scraping his nails lightly over the curve of the muscle there. there's a thrill of anticipation low in his abdomen. he doesn't know what comes next. it's usually over by now. ]

I want you.

[vengeant]

Oh, if I had...

[ anders wishes he had. it doesn't matter what he wishes, but he does. they can both envision it, can't they? how things would have gone, what they would have said, how they would have kissed. not much different from now, but with the thought of hope in their heads instead of what's dogging him now. it's a different kind, and it isn't kinder.

anders kisses hawke's neck and lifts his hand, parting to bring his hand to his mouth and suck his fingers, first two down to the third knuckle, tongue soft and warm against his own skin. wobbling to keep his balance, his other hand fixes itself tight-gripped to hawke's thigh, pushing his leg down at the same time. then his fingers find their way between his thighs again, thumb brushing the head of his cock before he turns his wrist and presses his fingertips lower, presses his way inside with his second finger, up to the first knuckle, muscle tight. his body flushes ear to to stomach, cock welling up and dripping, caught slippery against hawke's hip as his balance sways side-to-side. there's nothing keeping him steady but hawke's body, and there's nothing keeping hawke steady.

face tucked against hawke's throat, he uses his body as leverage so he can take his hand from his thigh and shift onto his knees, redistributing their weight, bending his arm and sliding it beneath the small of his back, using himself as support so his hips are slightly lifted. it betters the angle for when he moves his hand again, up to the second knuckle. it's not that he's trying to make this last, only—

maybe it is. if this was the one chance they had, what would they do? he doesn't know, and he can scarcely imagine, and yet it's not even that far from the truth. everything is limited, and sometimes a choice is the only choice. his throat works, thickly, breath coming in small, reedy sounds that escape him without his awareness. his brow is furrowed as though in thought. ]

[havik]

[ he's fixated watching anders suck his own fingers, following the up-down movement with avid interest as they slide slick in and out of his mouth. hawke breathes in and holds it for a moment, his body rigid with anticipation before he can force himself to relax. it's difficult, to be this excited and to try and trick his body simultaneously into not reacting as though there's anything out of the ordinary going on.

hawke has a very attuned flight-or-flight system, but he's not sure what to do when the situation calls for neither. it leaves him watching, helpfully spreading his legs to make room for anders between them.

he knows what's coming, but that doesn't stop his gasp when he feels the first press of anders's fingers up into him. he pushes himself lower onto him, coaxing him deeper. it's not that he's impatient so much as eager. he wants this, and the slight burn and pressure of wanting too much too fast doesn't act as the deterrent it should.

hawke's never been put off by something so small as slight physical discomfort. ]

It's all right.

[ he can feel anders, tense and trembling over top of him. hawke's voice comes out halting and soft. when he reaches for anders it's to rub his hands over his head, mussing his hair from where it's been carefully tied out of his eyes. if anyone does have an accident and find themselves in need of a healer tonight, well, that's just too bad for them. they're on their own. as far as hawke's concerned, someone who so selflessly devotes their time to others deserves a night of once in awhile.

he's referring to anders, of course. he can't exactly offer himself the same standards. he lets go of anders's head to slide a hand down his belly, reaching to curl blunt fingers around his cock and rubbing his thumb in the slippery mess over the head. ]

[vengeant]

[ hawke's voice calls him out of his stupor. he knows he's an idiot, getting caught up in his own thoughts in the middle of this when it means so much, but it's hard to hold onto his self-castigation when hawke is opening himself up for him, canting his hips into the curve of his finger inside him, slipping past the second knuckle and making his stomach flip. and then again, when he takes him by surprise by taking his cock in his hand, another wet sound popping like a bubble in his throat, eyes wet from overstimulation. he blinks several times and kisses the space under the curve of his jaw.

anders is at least as eager as hawke is, but careful. or he is with hawke's body, clutching at his side with the arm wound about his middle to feel muscle coil and release as they both move together, disparately but in cooperation. his hand is gentle. his hand between his legs is similarly gentle, curling and tugging against the resistance of his squeezing muscles before he thinks to add a second finger, cautious when he does that too, his movements deliberate with attention. ]

I just — I have to keep reminding myself that this is really happening.

[ his voice is soft against hawke's skin. his kisses move down his throat to his collarbone, body bent over him. if it's a distraction from what he's doing with his hands there's no evidence of this. ]

[havik]

[ hawke makes a soft sound of approval, tilting his head up when anders kisses him under his jaw. he pushes anders's cock up against the heel of his hand, cupping it to rub up and down the slippery shaft where his skin's thin and hot. it's hard to focus on the task at hand -- ha ha -- when anders is working his finger in and out of him, but hawke's dedicated.

he's used to focusing under high pressure situations. compared to some of these things they've been through, this should be nothing. but it isn't. it's something.

hawke starts to answer, but gets distracted by anders slipping a second finger inside of him, the flex of relaxing muscle it takes to make room for him. what should've been words comes out as a low groan of appreciation instead. it's happening. that's what he meant to tell him. of course it's happening. and he's sorry that it took him so long to get around to this in the first place. ]

I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.

[ if anders will have him. he's still not sure about that, whether he knows what hawke's really asking for here. when he made his intentions with fenris clear, he ended up chasing him off. he isn't comparing the two of them, not intentionally. but it's difficult not to think about it. ]

[vengeant]

[ anders doesn't open his mouth to remind hawke that he's going somewhere, but he's thinking it. not now; maybe not even in the next few weeks, or months, if they're lucky (can they call that luck?); but soon enough. soon enough, he won't have a claim to this life he's been living, tucked away in a corner of darktown too near the sea, where the chokedamp rolls in, one small beacon of light to the people living here. it's not the way he thinks of himself, not wanting to stand out. he came down here to disappear, to say nothing of the fact that he had no other choice.

this is his life, unspoken like a secret, scratched into dirty earthen stone, but by his own mouth, and his own hands, and by his own choice — at least partly. justice must be responsible for some amount of this. at times he wonders about himself, if he isn't doing these things only because it's justice who thinks that they're right.

anders knows that justice doesn't care for what's happening now, thinks it's a distraction, unnecessary in the face of the feat they're trying to accomplish, but it mollifies him that they can still disagree on some things. this is absolutely necessary. hawke is absolutely necessary, even if he isn't.

even if the life they could have had together isn't.

his fingers work smoothly until the tension's loosed itself enough both in his hands and hawke's body. the slender bend of his arm between hawke's thighs straightens itself when he takes his fingers from him, holding him under the knee and kissing down to his chest. his other arm comes unwound from around hawke's waist, and he angles his face up then, noses his jawline, cot creaking underneath them. ]

This... Might work better if you're on top.

[havik]

[ hawke's losing himself in the sensation of anders opening him up, working himself around the slender figures inside of him as his muscles start to slacken, easing around the intrusion. anders has the gentlest touch of anyone hawke's ever known. it doesn't come from being a healer. or at least, it isn't just that. bethany had healing abilities and she was always short with him. cross with her elder brother for getting hurt in the first place, maybe. or for not having the focus to learn healing himself. she'd have liked anders. he knows that much.

but anders's gentle touch seems innate. something to do with him, rather than his talents. hawke relaxes when he touches him. it took him some getting used to, but he's never had reason to flinch away.

it takes him a second to come back to himself, reacting to the sound of anders's voice. he squirms under anders while he holds his leg up, huffing out a breath at the kisses trailing down his chest. ]

I can move.

[ it sounds more certain than he feels. there's a certain lassitude in his muscles that he allowed to seep in while anders was working him open. it makes it difficult for him to move. but if anders wants him on top, far be it from hawke to deny him. ]

Hang on...

[ hawke rolls himself up on one elbow with a soft hup, careful to drag the bulk of his body out of the way so anders doesn't get pushed off the bed. they're trying to make this cot work. he doesn't want to give anders any reason to regret his choice to be here. he touches anders's arm, slowly slipping his leg over anders's hips to straddle him, sitting on his upper thighs. he leans forward, bracing his hands on anders's ribs. ]

How's this? Better?

[vengeant]

[ anders is flexible by nature; hawke moves and he moves with him. in a sense it's always been that way. they met and hawke followed him because they both needed help and were the only people who could provide it to each other, and then he followed hawke all the way back down into the (blighted) deep roads, and then, later, head-first into a qunari uprising to see half the city burnt and hawke besting their leader in a one-on-one dual. impossible things. amazing things. it's been so many years, and none at all, and the circle feels so far away even though its presence still pursues him.

the circle in kirkwall is a bloodbath. it's not something he can stand to think about now.

thankfully, hawke is there to take him away, again, from his tangled, sinuous, repetitive thoughts.

it requires a bit of shifting here and there for him to steal hawke's place without falling out or tipping the whole cot over, but they both find their way there. hawke bearing heavy on his thighs, legs bent to frame his skinny hips. he bends his own legs up, finds the wooden strut reaching across the bottom with the soles of his feet for leverage; he doesn't need it yet, but he will. ]

That's... Yes. Very good.

[ his skinny chest rises and falls, stomach taut, mouth open while he looks hawke over. his hands hover in the air between them indecisively before landing on his knees and sliding up, up over the swell of his thighs, up over firm muscle, up his hips, and up his soft stomach, fingers dipping shallowly into his navel one-by-one as he traces them downward into a path of dark hair. he licks his pink lips. ]

You're gorgeous. Have I told you that yet?

[havik]

[ hawke clears his throat, shifting to lift himself up on his knees, brushing his ass up against anders's cock. he's teasing him because he doesn't know any better, because his instincts in this are still all he's got to go on. a rough fumble in the dark is nothing compared to the culmination of years of waiting, two people finally embracing what they've been after all these years. an adult encounter in a real live bed.

well, maybe not a real bed. they'll have to work on that. he's got some plans for their future, even if he's not shared those yet with anders. he can't shake the sense that anders isn't interested in talking about their future yet, for reasons he hasn't been able to pin down. they'll have to talk about that before anything else.

but not now.

hawke rocks up into anders's touch, feeling his hands soothing over the big muscles of his thighs and higher. he's looking at hawke as though he'd like to eat him, which is a concept he's growing comfortable with. the right mouth, perhaps. ]

Not... in so many words.

[ hawke smiles, small and bashful. he knows anders finds him attractive. they've never made it much of a secret, their mutual interest in each other. but they've never confronted it this directly either. hawke swipes his tongue over the pad of his thumb, leaning in to rub over anders's nipple. ]

You're easy on the eyes, yourself.

[vengeant]

[ anders smiles a half-smile. it seems strange to confront the fact that he hasn't said it, as often as he's thought such things. it's no secret to himself. it's no secret to hawke either, except that he hasn't put it into loud, spoken words. well, not so loud. but everything spoken in secret, alone, tucked away like this, seems louder than ordinary. his feelings are — well, louder than ordinary. now in particular that they're seeing some daylight. or starlight, as it were. there's no evidence of it under the doors, lampposts and gently smoking cinders overpowering whatever light might be there, but it's just the same as other things they don't need to see to have evidence of. a permanence of thought, or belief, or faith.

his thoughts have been for hawke for so long that, despite the strangeness of saying them, it doesn't seem at all strange to say them.

his thighs tense and untense, shivery, when hawke lifts his hips over him, obviously teasing — maybe goading — like he needs any encouragement at all. when hawke touches his chest, he takes in a sharp breath, eyelashes dark against his cheeks, cheeks flushed, back bending up. his breath comes out in a sigh, followed by a swallow, and another smile. ]

You've said something like that before. As I remember it.

[ he finds hawke's hips with a hand to guide him, sliding around to squeeze his ass. his other hand he lifts to his mouth and licks until his palm and fingers are shiny with spit, then takes himself in hand, stroking over the length of his cock until it's slippery with saliva and pre-come, hot in his hand. anders' eyes dart between what he's doing with his hands and hawke's face, wanting to say something but unable to think of the words. lip caught between his teeth, he pushes hawke down with his hand against his thigh, clutching and loosening with his fingers spread to grab. his whole body goes hot once he's pushed past that muscle, chest rising and falling with hawke's hand heavy on top of him. his legs are slack and then tensed again, trembling when he edges himself up, angling his thin hips. ]

[havik]

[ hawke grins when anders recalls to mind what he's already said. he has been rather appreciative of anders in the past, both in mind and body. he can recall to mind more than a few times when he's flirted with anders at truly inappropriate moments in their lives. he can't be held responsible for the things that happen when he's flying high on adrenaline and nerves from a battle well-fought, though.

some of the more spectacularly stupid things that he's said have come after he's been fighting. like dueling the arishok in single combat. ideas like that. or taking the tension out of the room by making a flirtatious remark with the person who's suffering the most. invariably, that person is anders.

so he hasn't exactly been shy about making advances. and yet somehow it's taken them awhile to get here anyway.

he watches anders's face, only drawn away by the sight of his hand slipping between his thighs. this is the last place he would've pegged as a learning environment, but he is anxious to pick things up. being charmingly inexperienced will only take him so far. he doesn't want to coast on it. he's eager to learn from anders's easy attention to detail. hawke's chewing on the inside of his cheek as he watches anders slick up his own cock.

he tilts his head back when anders pushes himself inside of him. it's a rare moment when he can stand not to look at him, just an instinctive twitch of muscle that arches his back instead of bending him forward, like his body's trying instinctively to make room for anders inside of him. there's always been room inside of him for anders here. he's got something to say along those lines but it gets lost in his movements, flexing his thighs as he rolls his hips to push himself into anders's thrust. ]

You should trust your memories.

[vengeant]

[ a sound escapes him at the roll of hawke's hips, tight muscle taking him in. it makes his throat dry up like a desert at high noon, something lifted in him the way his bowed back lifts, or tries to lift, from the cot that wrinkles and contorts with his body. they sway and there's nothing to steady them through the movement, they only have each other to hold on to. so that's what he does, both hands on hawke now, fingers curled tight enough in his plush thighs to leave tiny crescents from his nails. pink sickle marks that disappear soon after he uncurls his fingers to stop holding so tightly, in case it hurts, in case it's too distracting — mostly because he wants to touch hawke while he's drawn up, back and neck arched. the sight makes him hungry in a way he's not unfamiliar with. hawke's given him new experiences too. ]

I trust you.

[ and his memories concerning hawke, he trusts those as well.

anders slides both hands up hawke's body from his navel to his chest, fingers catching in his soft, dark hair where it's thick over his breastbone, fingertips sliding down the center dip, down his stomach and back to his navel. except this time he doesn't stop there, circles his fingers around his cock instead with still-slick hands, knuckles brushing his own belly. they're not steady. his whole body is unwinding with hawke weighing his hips down into the precarious fabric.

his hands slick over his cock with his fingers curled around him and the thumb of his left hand rubbing sloppy circles around the tip, holding him loose so he can feel it when he twitches when he shifts or slants his hips. anders scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip watching him, drawing the coppery taste of not-quite-broken skin into his mouth. he breathes out through his nose and lets go. his eyes want to slip closed. instead, he alternates between watching hawke's face (his eyes, his mouth, that smile) and the path his own touch takes, fingers grasping at the big, flexed muscles of his upper arms before they travel down, encountering the sharp, flat bone in his forearm, the spur of bone of his wrists, and his hands, warmer from touching.

anders' fingers are damp, but not enough so that he feels self-conscious when he wraps his them around hawke's fingers the way that he did when they were still sitting together at his desk. ]