[ An obscene throaty sound looses itself half at the question, breath puffing through Anders's hair. Such a complicated request, but to Fenris in the here and now it feels shamefully simple, starving palms groping for the mixed cloth meeting at his upper and lower body, tugging and squeezing and stealing a brief greedy cup of his ass. They've never touched each other like this before; almost, perhaps, desperate gropes of anything that feels soft and good amid the darkness, but never like this. Fenris groans aloud and gives Anders a lazy sweet-mouthed caress of his earlobe that turns into a bite. ]
Take these off.
[ The first clothes they've worn in so long that aren't soiled rough tatters, but he wants them gone. All of them, needing skin on skin on skin, which is so much softer now with how long they've gone without holding any weapons.
He's used enough to Anders and his consoling hands and the clever work they do between his thighs—so used to it happening so reliably that he feels how his body responds easily to his touch now, hungry for it by virtue of pure habit. He wants...
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branchandroot
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Date: 2015-03-09 03:19 am (UTC)Take these off.
[ The first clothes they've worn in so long that aren't soiled rough tatters, but he wants them gone. All of them, needing skin on skin on skin, which is so much softer now with how long they've gone without holding any weapons.
He's used enough to Anders and his consoling hands and the clever work they do between his thighs—so used to it happening so reliably that he feels how his body responds easily to his touch now, hungry for it by virtue of pure habit. He wants...
He wants. ]