[The illusion of restraint sends a lance of pleasure straight through him, from a tingling in his scalp to a curl of his toes. Coming from anyone else, he may have thrown them off, after everything that's happened, but from Fenris it ignites something low in his belly, sets his heart hammering erratically in his chest. Anders trusts him, a concept that's bizarre and natural at the same time. Trusts him to take care of him, trusts him to listen, to let go when everything is said and done. Anders lets his hips rock up, gives them both the benefit of friction.
Each new moan is becoming more and more difficult to smother; this time he has to bite his lip hard enough to hurt to keep the sound in. He breathes raggedly instead, back arching up off the bed, because that's as much freedom of movement as he wants himself to have, at the moment. Even when his wrists twist in Fenris's grip, it's not enough to break it, or to even come close to trying.]
Keep going, keep— [He makes a soft, frustrated noise as he cranes his neck to kiss, hard and desperate and edged with teeth.] It's fine. I want it.
[The last is a whispered admission, quick and breathless. He wants it, this, him. Because finally, after all this time, he has the opportunity to want at all.]
no subject
Each new moan is becoming more and more difficult to smother; this time he has to bite his lip hard enough to hurt to keep the sound in. He breathes raggedly instead, back arching up off the bed, because that's as much freedom of movement as he wants himself to have, at the moment. Even when his wrists twist in Fenris's grip, it's not enough to break it, or to even come close to trying.]
Keep going, keep— [He makes a soft, frustrated noise as he cranes his neck to kiss, hard and desperate and edged with teeth.] It's fine. I want it.
[The last is a whispered admission, quick and breathless. He wants it, this, him. Because finally, after all this time, he has the opportunity to want at all.]