second act. text/voice
[text]
Like a wolf, Fenris was all quiet, tensely-coiled power wrapped in a dark, predatory nature, and like a wolf, his hunger was vast. With sudden force, he pinned the mage against the wall, lyrium flaring to life beneath his skin and calling out to the wellspring of mana deep within Anders's being. Anders pushes back, but though smaller, Fenris is the stronger, and he keeps the mage pinned to the wall with little effort.
They both pant for sharp, ragged breaths, and then Anders's mouth is on Fenris's, hot and wet and tasting faintly of ozone. Fenris bites down hard on his lip, drawing blood. "Do not use magic," he growls, "or you will regret it."
Anders laughs, a low, vicious hiss. "Or what? You'll rip out my heart? Have fun explaining how that happened." Fenris's fingers tighten in his hair, sharp gauntleted claws digging into his scalp and making blood trickle down his neck. True enough Fenris would never be able to explain the circumstances of that death, and the mage's life was safe so long as Hawke valued it.
But there were other ways to make the mage suffer, to humiliate him for his own humiliation at letting the abomination under his skin in such a way. He drags his teeth down Anders's neck, then yanks him away from the wall by his hair and shoves him against the table. Anders grunts and tries to turn, to scrabble for some opening for dominance, but has him pinned on his stomach, trapping him on the table's edge so it digs into his groin. With one arm digging into the mage's back and ignoring his struggles, Fenris reaches to undo the other man's buckles and yank his trousers down. His own leggings come off more easily, and his cock is barely free before he thrusts into the mage.
It is not gentle or tender; they are harsh and vicious, Fenris thrusting forward roughly and digging one hand into his wrist and letting loose small electric shocks that drive the elf to greater anger and sharpening the ferocity of his onslaught. Anders bites into his own wrist to stifle a cry as he comes, driven over the edge by the elf's hot cock and the feeling of lyrium pulsing against his backside, and Fenris follows soon after, groaning long and low.
[voice]
...Hmm. Where is that dwarf when you need him?
Like a wolf, Fenris was all quiet, tensely-coiled power wrapped in a dark, predatory nature, and like a wolf, his hunger was vast. With sudden force, he pinned the mage against the wall, lyrium flaring to life beneath his skin and calling out to the wellspring of mana deep within Anders's being. Anders pushes back, but though smaller, Fenris is the stronger, and he keeps the mage pinned to the wall with little effort.
They both pant for sharp, ragged breaths, and then Anders's mouth is on Fenris's, hot and wet and tasting faintly of ozone. Fenris bites down hard on his lip, drawing blood. "Do not use magic," he growls, "or you will regret it."
Anders laughs, a low, vicious hiss. "Or what? You'll rip out my heart? Have fun explaining how that happened." Fenris's fingers tighten in his hair, sharp gauntleted claws digging into his scalp and making blood trickle down his neck. True enough Fenris would never be able to explain the circumstances of that death, and the mage's life was safe so long as Hawke valued it.
But there were other ways to make the mage suffer, to humiliate him for his own humiliation at letting the abomination under his skin in such a way. He drags his teeth down Anders's neck, then yanks him away from the wall by his hair and shoves him against the table. Anders grunts and tries to turn, to scrabble for some opening for dominance, but has him pinned on his stomach, trapping him on the table's edge so it digs into his groin. With one arm digging into the mage's back and ignoring his struggles, Fenris reaches to undo the other man's buckles and yank his trousers down. His own leggings come off more easily, and his cock is barely free before he thrusts into the mage.
It is not gentle or tender; they are harsh and vicious, Fenris thrusting forward roughly and digging one hand into his wrist and letting loose small electric shocks that drive the elf to greater anger and sharpening the ferocity of his onslaught. Anders bites into his own wrist to stifle a cry as he comes, driven over the edge by the elf's hot cock and the feeling of lyrium pulsing against his backside, and Fenris follows soon after, groaning long and low.
[voice]
...Hmm. Where is that dwarf when you need him?