Here. [He leans up again to press their mouths together, languid, calming, lingering more than he means to.] Here, with me.
[It's scarcely more than a whisper, breathless, but still loud to his ears in the quiet of the room. He doesn't know why he says it, or what he means, or what he hopes to communicate. Just feels like he should say something. He doesn't know what the word means beyond what he can hear in Fenris's tone, the way it sounds like how Anders feels, confused and elated and terrified all at once.
He covers Fenris's hands with his own, a soft hum of satisfaction catching in his throat as palms spread wide over his arse, and his hips rock eagerly into each touch: back into Fenris's hands, down against Fenris's cock. He lifts, encourages them both to drag on the waistband until his trousers slip down over the curve of his arse, bunched at the knee where his legs are still spread.
There's a brief moment of indulgence where he can't help but press their hips together, the hot line of his cock dragging clumsily against the tent in Fenris's trousers. He turns the harsh moan that threatens to rip out of his throat into a quick, sharp bite at his collarbone. Heat curls low in his belly, and there's no room to linger anymore.
He shifts down lower to kick his trousers off the rest of the way, forgotten off the end of the bed. Then lower still, drawing a line of wet kisses down towards Fenris's navel, past it, fingers already reaching to grasp the thin waist of his trousers.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
branchandroot
no subject
Date: 2015-03-13 05:26 pm (UTC)[It's scarcely more than a whisper, breathless, but still loud to his ears in the quiet of the room. He doesn't know why he says it, or what he means, or what he hopes to communicate. Just feels like he should say something. He doesn't know what the word means beyond what he can hear in Fenris's tone, the way it sounds like how Anders feels, confused and elated and terrified all at once.
He covers Fenris's hands with his own, a soft hum of satisfaction catching in his throat as palms spread wide over his arse, and his hips rock eagerly into each touch: back into Fenris's hands, down against Fenris's cock. He lifts, encourages them both to drag on the waistband until his trousers slip down over the curve of his arse, bunched at the knee where his legs are still spread.
There's a brief moment of indulgence where he can't help but press their hips together, the hot line of his cock dragging clumsily against the tent in Fenris's trousers. He turns the harsh moan that threatens to rip out of his throat into a quick, sharp bite at his collarbone. Heat curls low in his belly, and there's no room to linger anymore.
He shifts down lower to kick his trousers off the rest of the way, forgotten off the end of the bed. Then lower still, drawing a line of wet kisses down towards Fenris's navel, past it, fingers already reaching to grasp the thin waist of his trousers.
"Impatient" is not a good enough word.]