[The aborted, half-swallowed groan is probably a familiar sound by now. It's a directive he's only too eager to obey, and it's nearly a relief to do it.
He sets his knees on either side of Fenris's hips, and leans back just enough to draw the shirt off over his head. He drops it off the side of the bed like an afterthought, already leaning back in, pressing skin to skin, body heat to body heat. He knows that it all needs to come off, wants it just as badly, but he's easily distracted, and there's so much expanse his mouth hasn't mapped yet, in all their history.
The next kiss is hard-edged, messy, desperate for something Anders can't put a name to. He doesn't let it linger, scoots lower to drag his teeth along the pulse point in Fenris's throat, the cords of his neck, the ridge of his clavicle. His hands roam of their own accord, suddenly greedy with permission, palms following wide swaths of skin.
no subject
He sets his knees on either side of Fenris's hips, and leans back just enough to draw the shirt off over his head. He drops it off the side of the bed like an afterthought, already leaning back in, pressing skin to skin, body heat to body heat. He knows that it all needs to come off, wants it just as badly, but he's easily distracted, and there's so much expanse his mouth hasn't mapped yet, in all their history.
The next kiss is hard-edged, messy, desperate for something Anders can't put a name to. He doesn't let it linger, scoots lower to drag his teeth along the pulse point in Fenris's throat, the cords of his neck, the ridge of his clavicle. His hands roam of their own accord, suddenly greedy with permission, palms following wide swaths of skin.
Every inch he takes, he wants a mile more.]