justice_is_blond | Inbox for Fade Rift

[I could look at you better if you got your hand out of my hair, he might chuckle, but he's afraid to break the spell. And Anders is squeezing his ass, and that makes him completely forget what he was going to say. There's a bit less to him now than there usually is, having been so ill for so long, but he's still squeezable. Apparently. And Anders used his full name. That's how he knows this is going to be good.

His fingers move now to Anders' cock, brushing the head, then along the shaft. It is a tease, rewarded by a gentle stroke on the way back up, and a firmer one on the way back down. Now at last, he pulls away from Anders insistently, his free hand pressing against his chest, holding him down against the bed. His eyes rake up and down Anders' spread form.]

I'll have you, [he decides, removing his hand from Anders' chest and reaching for lubricant,] with your legs over my shoulders, where I can touch you inside where you like best.

[He opens the little tin and smears some salve on his fingers, before using one of those fingers to circle his entrance.]

[Anders grinds up into the hand on his cock, making a noise that he'd deny vehemently is a whimper but might be one anyway.]

With your weight forward, bending me in half, yes.

[Nate's definitely not as in good a shape as usual. It's going to take some work to get him there. Anders will of course do his best to help... though right now he's the one being worked over.

His mouth is a little open as Nate teases with the finger. It's been, Maker, it's been over a month, and the stretch is going to be better than even their first coupling. Which, in a way... Anders reaches up to take the hand holding the tin in his, meeting Nate's eyes.]

Is now a good time to remind you that this is the first time we've been together alone?

[Nathaniel's pupils immediately widen. He will not deny he is a jealous man, and knowing Anders belongs only to him this time is going to make it even better. No third party to tolerate, nobody holding Anders hostage, no disapproving presence caught up in the skin Nathaniel caresses. He kisses him hard and slides his middle finger in to the last knuckle, slowly, waiting for Anders to adjust.]

[Feeling Nate's response is even better than hearing something, and Anders kisses right back until he's panting into the kiss due to the steady slide of Nate's finger in. His hands go to Nate's shoulder as he holds on as if for dear life, griping there as he relaxes muscles further down.]

Oh, Nate.

[There's a pause as he catches his breath, ended with a shake of his head.]

You can move it. I want to feel everything like this, bordering on too much, with nothing looming over it. Push me, please. I'll speak up if it gets edges on too far, I promise.

[Nathaniel responds with a low growl, and grinds the finger as deep in as he can before beginning to fuck him slowly and steadily. He missed this, the feel of Anders' heat on his hand, around his fingers, the working of him from within just as much as he missed him around his cock. He loves to touch him like this, the anticipation, the knowing of him with his hands. The same reason a man might touch fine art, good wood-working, the ornamentation on a fancy bow--to know something with your own hands is the only way to really know it. And Nathaniel's hands know Anders' body in and out. Nathaniel's hands know his lover's pleasure.

Soon, another finger is added, and Nathaniel knows the stretch of Anders' body as well as its heat.]

[He groans, eyes closing as he gets his heels up, onto the bed, so he can ride Nate's finger in return. The growl from Nate says more than words can, that he's with Anders in this moment, and Anders is glad of it.]

Maker. Just... Nnng.

[Nate knows exactly what does it for Anders, how to work his body. Anders can surrender and trust and it's rewarded every time.]

I've wanted you so... so much. Thought about it, touched myself missing you, but my hands have nothing on yours.

Not Maker. [Nathaniel grinds his fingers in, touching that spot inside.] Nate.

[It might be the first time he's told someone to call him Nate. It's what Anders calls him, what people who want to be close to him call him. As seldom as he allows someone to speak it, it is the name for people who mean it.]

[He makes a higher-pitched noise as he's stroked inside, seeing light behind his eyelids.]

Nate. My love.

[A smile curls his lips.]

Shall I pray to you? You've certainly given me more love than He ever has.

[He grinds against the fingers, hard.]

Physically as well as emotionally.

[Nathaniel groans as the tight heat slides down to the base of his fingers, clasping, clenching. That's it. Anders is ready enough that he won't get hurt, and he said he wanted it to be on the verge of too much. He slides his fingers out and slicks himself with more salve, then hoists Anders' legs up and hooks them over his shoulders.]

Pray to me with your pleas and your moans, [he says as he lines himself up.] Pray that I will have mercy. [He begins the slow slide inside and he can't speak, because Anders is tight and it has been too long. The heat that had been around his fingers now thunders around his cock with Anders' racing heartbeat. He is lost in it.]

I don't want mercy. [It's groaned out as Nate pushes in. There's definitely an edge of pain to the slide in, but Nate's being careful and Anders can take it. He's glad to take it, glad to feel the stretch and watch Nate's face as he penetrates him.]

I shall not, [a small gasp as Nate's cock goes another ring of muscle deeper,] be left to wander the drifting roads of the Fade. For there is no darkness in Nathaniel's light.

[Blasphemy, sex, and the man he loves. It's truly an exhilarating combination.]

[It's terrible. It's so, so terrible and Nathaniel should feel ashamed of himself. But it's so deliciously wicked, and punctuated by the sound of Anders feeling everything he is doing, that little hitch in his breath, the tremor of muscle straining around him. He rolls his hips, pushing his cock in another inch, moaning as the slick heat swallows around him. He kisses Anders' jaw and throat like he can't get enough, driven mad like a cat for catnip, wanting the scent all around him as he slides deeper still. It's not just Anders feeling a pain or a burn, when he hisses from the ache in his cock as it is clenched by willing body. When he is inside to the hilt, hard and throbbing as deep as he will go, he grinds hard just once before he begins to fuck him, slow and steady at first, stoking the fires with pumps from the bellows.]

[Anders comes up off the bed for a moment at the hard grind and how Nate doesn't stop as he'd expected. He keeps going, and oh, it's such a good struggle. Nate's making noises now too, delicious and beautiful, all because of how good he feels inside Anders.]

Nothing... Nothing that you have wrought... shall be lost.

[He knows far more of the Canticle of Trials than he'd generally admit to, but he'd had a year alone with one book. That leaves an impression, though not nearly as pleasant as the one Nate's cock is leaving in his ass.]

I am not alone, Ma--Nate, yes, keep...

[There's a little rock of his hips, as much as Anders can manage just yet. The muscles throughout his body are tense, though there's a little shaking in his thighs from how much he's feeling. Anders reaches up to cup Nate's face.]

Even as I stumble on the path with my eyes closed, yet I see your light is here.

[Nathaniel isn't able to keep the pace slow for long, his movements quickened by lust and aided by gravity. The bed rattles, as likely do Anders' teeth. There is a long, low moan from him, and when Anders touches his face, he stops his mouth with a voracious kiss.]

Mmmmmnh, [he moans against his mouth, then,] Anders. Oh, Anders.

[Slick wet hot tight soft so hard, his own name stuttered with reverence on Anders' red lips, slap of flesh and rush of heated panting, sky coming nearer and nearer with each surge of Nathaniel hard and deep inside Anders--]

Anders.

[He buries himself to the hilt and pauses to breathe, then slows down again, making this last. Making sure Anders will be screaming by the time they both find release.]

Natha-- Natha--

[He can't get it out, reduced to gasping, choked noises as Nate pounds him into the bed. Ser Mewl and Gasp has never been more relevant, and laughter joins the stuttered noises as Anders wraps his arms around Nate and welcomes him in.

For a moment, when Nate stills, Anders thinks he's reached completion and feels quite smug. He adores the way the archer falls apart... but then Nate resumes, slowly, and Anders moans.]

Fuck. Nathaniel, love...

[He could have come so easily from the fast, desperate pace and the noises Nate had been making, and a part of him wants to protest the change of speed. But the glide is holding him so beautifully on the edge, and he wants this to last. It's their first time without Justice, their first time in a month of agonizing worrying about Nate's health, and for once Anders doesn't beg for Nate to go harder.]

How I love you.

[Nate gets a sloppy line of kisses planted along his jawline on one side while Anders cups the other side of his face.]

[Something like a sob escapes Nathaniel, a broken sound as he hovers just out of reach of ecstasy, both yearning and shying away from it. On impulse, he suddenly pulls out, forcibly turning Anders over so that his face is in the bed and his ass is in the air, and he fingers him roughly for a moment before burying himself again, somewhat more in control of himself now as Anders' kisses cool along his jawline.]

Speak your prayers into the mattress, [he growls, voice hoarse with lust.] Cry them out to me.

[He whimpers at the loss of cock and ability to touch, but it's quickly cut off by the fingers driving into him and the cock that follows that. Anders needs... but there's no verse for begging someone to touch you, which means he needs to get creative.]

All this is the work of my Nathaniel's hands, please use them, please touch me, I need, I need that.

[He can't see the expression on Nate's face anymore, and he needs to see that or feel Nate's hands or anything just to keep this as connected as he wants it.]

Guide me through my, my blackest nights...

[He's so close, breathless and noisy, and he's fairly certain Nate could undo him with one gentle touch.]

Louder.

[Nathaniel wants the whole camp to hear it. Nathaniel wants everyone to know what's happening in this tent. He pulls out and flips him again onto his back, not even letting him settle into the last position. Hands drag Anders back onto his cock, overwhelming, controlling, but always protecting. The brutal pace begins again.]

Louder.

[He reaches up with a shaky hand, threading his fingers through Nate's hair.]

Oh, Nath--Nathaniel, know my heart. Take from, from me...

[Before he can even finish that verse he's closing his eyes, body stiffening, and coming, spilling on his stomach at the relentless, caring, roughness of it all. He struggles to catch his breath and talk through the buzz, to at least finish this verse as his thumb gently rubs against Nate's temple.]

...A life of sorrow. Lift me from a world of pain.

[He opens his eyes again to meet Nate's.]

Judge me worthy of your endless pride.

[Those last words, the meeting of Anders' eyes with his as he releases between them, the trust and tenderness--and Nathaniel tips over the edge, freefalling into blasphemous ecstasy. Their mouths crush together, taste of blood, Anders' body wet and silken.

When it passes, Nathaniel is left panting against Anders' cheek, shuddering and completely oblivious to, perhaps, a spiderweb of pain in his chest. He rolls off him and gasps for air, finding it harder to catch his breath than he expected.]

Maker, [he rasps,] that was good.

[For a few moments he simply rests there, smiling, savoring the whole of this. Then his healer's brain kicks in and he really hears the way Nate's breathing and talking, and adds the blood taste to that. Trying not to alarm Nate, Anders rolls to his side and wraps an arm around his lover. It's with that hand that he eases creation magic in, trying to make sure Nate's all right.]

It was.

[Thankfully, there's nothing alarming or seriously awry. Relieved, Anders leans forward to kiss Nate's forehead.]

It was superb. Who knew the chant could ever be useful?"

I will have to spend hours confessing to make up for it, [Nathaniel grumbles faintly, tucking Anders tightly against him.] I live and how do I repay the Maker? Blasphemy. Magnificent, sexy blasphemy. Your tongue is wicked, my love.

[He strongly doubts the Maker had anything to do with anything, but he doesn't begrudge Nate his faith. It hurts no one and helps Nathaniel; how could he object to that?]

My tongue has a great deal of training in being wicked, as your cock and mouth can attest.

[Nate's collarbone gets gentle kisses as Anders burrows in close.]

If I say I'll always hear your confession does that make it worse or better?

[Nathaniel smiles.]

My confessions are a little heavy for having fun in bed.

You know I'm always here for you.

[Nate's squeezed, a little sleepily.]

I love you.

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