[ A shudder of relief rips through his aching body, feeling so much more violent than it is. Fenris obeys gratefully, tongue curling against the growth of frost that turns to cold water almost on contact, a steady trickle of liquid down his throat that elicits a needy little noise from a place behind Anders's fingers. It's not much but it's nothing short of a blessing even in spite of the way the chill makes goosebumps ripple over his skin. He drinks greedily and with mindless relish until Anders is sucked dry.
Moreover, he cannot recall a time when he was touched so kindly as this. A breath catches in his chest, convulsive, perilously close to a sob, but it does not escape. He is mad now, he thinks, well and truly. Still he cleaves to the mage's warmth like a frightened child because something's broken open inside of him with just a few icy droplets, something that sends his arm slithering round Anders's waist to fist the fabric at the small of his back as he licks at his skin greedily until it's hot as his mouth.
He comes back to himself in time, aware he's tugged them both to a halfway point on the edge of their nest. The mere thought of moving exhausts him, but he summons the last of his willpower to avert his face with something like shame. Anders's heart thumps softly against his chest. ]
...Thank you. I am. Sorry.
[ His voice is rough in ways water cannot fix, but he will not die here. He tells himself that every day, no matter how insincerely. ]
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Moreover, he cannot recall a time when he was touched so kindly as this. A breath catches in his chest, convulsive, perilously close to a sob, but it does not escape. He is mad now, he thinks, well and truly. Still he cleaves to the mage's warmth like a frightened child because something's broken open inside of him with just a few icy droplets, something that sends his arm slithering round Anders's waist to fist the fabric at the small of his back as he licks at his skin greedily until it's hot as his mouth.
He comes back to himself in time, aware he's tugged them both to a halfway point on the edge of their nest. The mere thought of moving exhausts him, but he summons the last of his willpower to avert his face with something like shame. Anders's heart thumps softly against his chest. ]
...Thank you. I am. Sorry.
[ His voice is rough in ways water cannot fix, but he will not die here. He tells himself that every day, no matter how insincerely. ]