justice_is_blond | Inbox for Fade Rift

[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.

Inbox for Fade Rift

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject