justice_is_blond | Inbox for Fade Rift

He watches Nate, trembling thanks to anticipation and all that the man's already given him.

"I agree." The words are rushed out this time. "I agree, love." The added finger is good, but it's just not the same as having Nate buried deep inside of him and on top of him.

"Kiss me as you take me? Please." He'll beg for anything; Nate gives him so much and has always seemed to enjoy the begging.

"Because I love you, I will. Not because you've been good, but because I love you." There's such a swell of pride for Anders, that he is doing so well his very first time trying this. But he would never withhold the affection of a kiss just because Anders has misbehaved.

His trousers are cast aside quickly. He kneels between Anders' legs and lines himself up, elated that Anders is enjoying this so much. When he kisses him, it is passionate, heated, slick and perfect and just as sweet as his cock entering Anders' body. His hips jerk himself all the way in, burying himself to the hilt in perfect heat. Spearing Anders while Anders is willingly trapped under his word of command is unbearably hot, and he gives a long, low groan into his lover's mouth.

It's all the better to be kissed for love than for a reward, and Anders kisses back hungrily, eyes tightly shut as Nate pushes in. He can't get enough of the feeling of fullness from Nate or of being loved; it's all-encompassing in the best way. And it makes obeying all the more fulfilling. He's not restrained. He's submitting to the best person he knows, and filling his ears with Nate's delicious groan.

Anders braces his heels on the bed and rocks upward, careful to keep his arms in place as he moves around his lover.

"Yes," he whispers against Nate's lips. "You are sublime, Nate, my love." Being fucked no longer relies on the use of those words, but Nate had wanted to hear him and Anders has no reason to stop saying either now.

Oh, but the rule is still in place, as Nathaniel shows by thrusting twice, deeply, when those words are spoken. Enough to make him shake. One hand braces himself against the makeshift bed while the other takes Anders by the hip.

"Keep going," he gasps. Both his pleasure and Anders' relies on it now, stilled within him and waiting.

The noise that escapes him is part-gasp, part whimper. He hadn't expected the sudden forceful thrusts or for them to stop so quickly, and he almost fails their game, almost reaches up for Nate. The scarf's slipped some from the half-lift of one arm, but it's still barely on both wrists and Anders gives Nate a pleading look. He's trying. Maybe it won't count, because he'd be pulling at things if he was held.

"I know how you love to take me, Nathaniel," he purrs, being as persuasive as he possibly can. "And I love the way you fuck me, Nate." There could be less words. He could try to push Nate to desperation, try to see the archer lose control, but the submission here is more fun.

He drives in each time, gasping. The hand moves from Anders' hip to adjust the scarf again--it merits no punishment, because the hands have stayed put while the fabric slipped--before moving it back to tilt Anders' hips upward.

"More." At the new angle, Nathaniel slides easily against his prostate, deep and unrelenting.

"Oh." Right there, and they both know Nate's found the right spot.

"I wish I could touch you, love. Thread my fingers through your lovely hair," does lovely count? It should, in his opinion, "kiss your lips and make it clear how much I love you, Nate." The worlds are spilled out hastily, breathily. Just as good as the thrusts are the anticipation of Nate reacting to the words.

"But then I couldn't see you stretched out and helpless. Vulnerable for my eyes only, with my word alone holding you here." Oh, Anders feels so good from the inside. Nathaniel thinks there must have been a great emptiness in his life before he loved Anders, before Clarel's madness and the Inquisition. Not born of a lack of love, but of a lack of Anders. A life without this man, this personality, this perfection. He kisses him as if he can drink him deeper that way, as if he can be more fully a part of him, and make up for the deficit of his life before Anders.

The way Nate kisses him, as if he's desperate for Anders even with the mage right here, with him, is intoxicating. Anders moans into the kiss, yearning and loving. Until Nate, he'd never had sex with love involved. Now he can't get enough, and it makes the word 'helpless' something he can skip over mentally. Being vulnerable for Nate alone is something he wants, though, something he enjoys.

His tongue tangles with Nate's and the moan deepens to a groan. He's loved by this magnificent man. He's absolutely loved and he belongs here.

"Stretched out for you, however you want me," he breathes out when the kiss is broken. A moment later he's grinning and craning his neck to steal a soft kiss. "Howe ever. Howe, I love you. Ravish me, please."

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