please do not be inconsistent i find it infuriating // keep calm, work hard and STOP MIMIMI !!!
Fenders, slash
Behind closed doors by sevensodasIt was early dusk in Darktown, the street merchants closing shop and retreating in the comfort of their homes, while the majority of Darktown's population sought refuge into the dirty, unlit alleys. Fenris strode quietly through the dimly lit roads, pausing momentarily to remember exactly where the Darktown clinic was located. Going to visit the abomination did nothing for his mood, or dignity, but the battle he and Hawke had fought that day had left him with a deep, bleeding wound on his torso. He'd managed to stop the bleeding himself, but Hawke had insisted he go see Anders to get healed.
A breeze chilled the air and Fenris shivered, quickening his pace up the stairs to Anders' clinic. The sooner he was healed, he could return to the comfort of his mansion, Agreggio Pavali in hand. With that thought in mind, he knocked twice on the weathered wooden door. When he was met with silence, the elf tried to open the door, surprised when it clicked open. Clearly the mage was less than vigilant with security. If the Templars took him, he'd have himself to blame.
The clinic was dark, and the elf could hardly make out a thing. Another cold wind ushered him inside, closing the door behind him.
He glanced around the clinic, eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. Aside from the normal poultices and mixtures one would expect in a place of healing, there were a few homey items; after all, Anders did live here. The mage's makeshift bed was in one corner, a simple sheet and an embroidered pillow nestled in between. A part of him almost felt sorry for how Anders lived. Living in such a hopeless, desolate town, in a tiny, dank room with not a comfort made Fenris suddenly appreciate his luck that he had a mansion in Hightown. The way Anders lived reminded him of his past; in a way which both confused and irritated him.
Fenris visibly recoiled at the thought, disgusted. "I am nothing like the abomination," he murmured to himself. He snapped out of his thoughts when he felt a stab of pain on his left side, where the wound resided. Crimson red splotches dripped onto the floor, running down and staining his underclothes as they fell. The elf hurried to the back of the clinic, careful not to upset the cut further, and knocked loudly on the farthest door. No answer.
Fenris cursed his luck. Here he was, bleeding all over the floor and that damned mage wasn't around to help!
Frustrated and dizzy from blood loss, he was about to turn back, hoping to recover himself by natural means instead of the supernatural, yet a muffled noise from the back room made him stop in his tracks.
A moment later the door swung open, revealing a very disheveled Anders. His eyes were ringed dark, most likely from exhaustion, and his usual tidy blonde hair was tousled and loose. He smiled weakly at the elf. Fenris glared back, indicating his obvious distaste for the mage. How Hawke ever came to love the mage he would never guess. Blood magic, probably.
"Fenris," he began slowly but noticing the blood, became more alarmed, "You came to be healed, right?"
Fenris had never seen the mage act so unguarded and frankly, never so human before. It may have just been his ragged appearance, but the way he spoke held no venom or sharp edge.
"Yes. Hawke…he insisted I come."
That brought a smile to his lips, "Oh, and here I thought you just wanted my company. Very well, come on then."
He disappeared for a moment and returned with his signature coat to cover his bare chest, somewhat crumpled as if it had been tossed aside. Anders gestured him to lie flat on the wooden table as he gathered supplies from the shelves and lit a few lamps. Fenris lay back, wincing at the shot of pain that ran up his left side.
"Alright," Anders said softly, not wanting to upset the moody elf, "I need the armor off."
Hesitantly, Anders reached for the left buckle on his chest plate. Surprisingly he wasn't shoved away nor had a fist to the face. Instead, the elf hardly looked at him, opting to fiddle with the right straps of his armor. When the straps were free, Fenris glared at him, eyes partly obscured by his silver hair.
"Don't try anything, mage."
Anders chuckled, rolling his eyes, "Wouldn't dream of it. You're just another visitor here, Fenris. I won't hurt you. "
Sliding off the chest plate and underclothes, Fenris' dark skin was now bare, the wound dripping an ominous dark red. Anders took in a sharp breath, they may be bitter rivals but by the Maker, Fenris was beautiful. The strands of lyrium embedded into his skin shimmered in the light emancipating from the fire lamps. Fenris winced again at the pain radiating from the wound, markings flaring a bright blue. Anders may have loved Hawke, but there was something about the tension between them and their heated exchanges that had Anders thinking of Fenris in ways he should not have imagined. He could feel Justice clawing his way forward, trying to get closer to the lyrium's siren song. Thankfully, he managed to pull Justice back down into the corners of his mind. He could only imagine what horrible things the elf would do to him if he let Justice loose on him.
Pushing the less than innocent thoughts out of his mind, Anders laid his fingertips over the wound and began a healing spell. His hands began to glow an eerie blue, lighting up the small room in a blue haze. Fenris watched him intently, partly from suspicion and partly from the fact that it was incredible watching Anders work. Not that he'd ever admit to that of course. Why the mage would put his own health and strength on the line to help random strangers was beyond him.
The wound closed up, stitched together by magic, leaving not even a single scar or damaged tissue. Anders sighed and leaned against the bench, weariness etched on his features. Healing such a deep cut took a lot out of him, especially in his already worn-out state. Perhaps it was his sleep deprived mind that initiated, but in a complete moment of insanity, he reached over to where the wound once was and traced his fingers over it. When his fingers touched the lyrium, Fenris sat up, gaze shifting to the mages in a look that was almost predatory. He swiped the hand away and slammed Anders back against the wall, rattling the glass vials and potions on the shelves nearby.
"Do not…touch me!"
He gripped the mages arms tight, gauntlets pushing into his skin leaving pinpricks of blood blossoming from the indents. Fenris was furious that the mage was so bold as to touch him in such a caring manner. What right did the abomination have?
"Let go of me!" Anders demanded, squirming in his grasp, hopelessly pinned against the elf's arms.
Fenris remained alert, grip still iron on the mage. "What did you think you were doing, mage!"
"I just wanted…" he started, unsure of what exactly he could say to calm the elf down. "I don't have to explain anything to you." The mage dropped his gaze to the floor, seemingly uncomfortable.
Fenris glared at the man, but relaxed his grip, realizing Hawke would probably get angry if he executed his lover. Just as he was about to leave, Anders leaned forward, their lips brushing against each other. The elf froze, releasing his hold in surprise as Anders pulled him closer.
His mind was racing, urging him to run, but his feet wouldn't budge. The mage now had his teeth on his neck, biting and kissing with a sense of urgency and he wasn't exactly sure he wanted him to stop. As painful as it was to admit, Fenris wanted this as much as the blonde seemed to. He had no memory of any of his earlier intimate relations, or if they existed, and with Hawke spending most time with Anders, he had more than one occasion felt lonely and isolated. For one night at least, he would be wanted, able to entertain his needs, be it only lust. Isabela seemed to do it plenty and she turned out fine.
Drawn out of his thoughts, Fenris took the opportunity to push Anders back against the wall, lips and tongue mingling together.
"There will be nothing gentle about this," he thought, throwing Anders' heavy coat off his shoulders. Dragging his gauntlet clad fingertips across his back, he ripped off the mage's loose shirt, the thin fabric flitting to the floor. Anders responded to his touch by pressing into the elf, hands trailing the shining lyrium on his chest, dipping lower to his hips.
"I hate you," Fenris moaned, face heated and nails digging into his sides at the pressure. Anders smirked and pushed him roughly to the floor, positioning himself on top as he pinned Fenris' arms above his head. The elf growled at the position he now in, preferring to be in control, but quickly forgot when he felt Anders tongue doing utterly wicked, sinfully good things to his body.
They were startled by another knock at the door, and the sound of it creaking open. Fenris practically leapt to the other side of the room, picking up his armor and fastening up, while Anders tried to fix himself as presentable as possible. He didn't want any rumors going around about his love life, let alone a secret affair with an elf. Spotting his coat, he wrapped it around himself, covering up his growing arousal.
"Hawke?" Fenris asked, slightly out of breath, "Why did you come?"
"I was just checking up on you, Fenris," Hawke replied, glancing at the two, "I thought you might not have listened to me when I told you to get healed."
Fenris scoffed, "I may dislike the mage, but I trust you enough Hawke to not lead me astray."
Hawke smiled at this, "Well for that, I'm glad. Er, but Anders-," he noticed the torn up shirt, "What happened here?"
"Uh…it was the cats." He said quickly, "Sharp claws."
Fenris and Hawke both gave him a strange look, but nevertheless Hawke seemed to believe it.
"Well…I should be going," Fenris declared, partly trying to change the subject from Anders' ridiculous lie. He signaled Hawke to follow him, "You should too, Hawke. Darktown is dangerous at night. Allow me to accompany you."
As they left, Fenris glanced back at Anders, emerald eyes locking with amber. It made his heart jump and he smiled back, not daring to break his gaze. Once they were gone, Anders was left in the darkness of the clinic, replaying the moment over and over in his head, praying it would remain a secret.
Behind closed doors by sevensodasIt was early dusk in Darktown, the street merchants closing shop and retreating in the comfort of their homes, while the majority of Darktown's population sought refuge into the dirty, unlit alleys. Fenris strode quietly through the dimly lit roads, pausing momentarily to remember exactly where the Darktown clinic was located. Going to visit the abomination did nothing for his mood, or dignity, but the battle he and Hawke had fought that day had left him with a deep, bleeding wound on his torso. He'd managed to stop the bleeding himself, but Hawke had insisted he go see Anders to get healed.
A breeze chilled the air and Fenris shivered, quickening his pace up the stairs to Anders' clinic. The sooner he was healed, he could return to the comfort of his mansion, Agreggio Pavali in hand. With that thought in mind, he knocked twice on the weathered wooden door. When he was met with silence, the elf tried to open the door, surprised when it clicked open. Clearly the mage was less than vigilant with security. If the Templars took him, he'd have himself to blame.
The clinic was dark, and the elf could hardly make out a thing. Another cold wind ushered him inside, closing the door behind him.
He glanced around the clinic, eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. Aside from the normal poultices and mixtures one would expect in a place of healing, there were a few homey items; after all, Anders did live here. The mage's makeshift bed was in one corner, a simple sheet and an embroidered pillow nestled in between. A part of him almost felt sorry for how Anders lived. Living in such a hopeless, desolate town, in a tiny, dank room with not a comfort made Fenris suddenly appreciate his luck that he had a mansion in Hightown. The way Anders lived reminded him of his past; in a way which both confused and irritated him.
Fenris visibly recoiled at the thought, disgusted. "I am nothing like the abomination," he murmured to himself. He snapped out of his thoughts when he felt a stab of pain on his left side, where the wound resided. Crimson red splotches dripped onto the floor, running down and staining his underclothes as they fell. The elf hurried to the back of the clinic, careful not to upset the cut further, and knocked loudly on the farthest door. No answer.
Fenris cursed his luck. Here he was, bleeding all over the floor and that damned mage wasn't around to help!
Frustrated and dizzy from blood loss, he was about to turn back, hoping to recover himself by natural means instead of the supernatural, yet a muffled noise from the back room made him stop in his tracks.
A moment later the door swung open, revealing a very disheveled Anders. His eyes were ringed dark, most likely from exhaustion, and his usual tidy blonde hair was tousled and loose. He smiled weakly at the elf. Fenris glared back, indicating his obvious distaste for the mage. How Hawke ever came to love the mage he would never guess. Blood magic, probably.
"Fenris," he began slowly but noticing the blood, became more alarmed, "You came to be healed, right?"
Fenris had never seen the mage act so unguarded and frankly, never so human before. It may have just been his ragged appearance, but the way he spoke held no venom or sharp edge.
"Yes. Hawke…he insisted I come."
That brought a smile to his lips, "Oh, and here I thought you just wanted my company. Very well, come on then."
He disappeared for a moment and returned with his signature coat to cover his bare chest, somewhat crumpled as if it had been tossed aside. Anders gestured him to lie flat on the wooden table as he gathered supplies from the shelves and lit a few lamps. Fenris lay back, wincing at the shot of pain that ran up his left side.
"Alright," Anders said softly, not wanting to upset the moody elf, "I need the armor off."
Hesitantly, Anders reached for the left buckle on his chest plate. Surprisingly he wasn't shoved away nor had a fist to the face. Instead, the elf hardly looked at him, opting to fiddle with the right straps of his armor. When the straps were free, Fenris glared at him, eyes partly obscured by his silver hair.
"Don't try anything, mage."
Anders chuckled, rolling his eyes, "Wouldn't dream of it. You're just another visitor here, Fenris. I won't hurt you. "
Sliding off the chest plate and underclothes, Fenris' dark skin was now bare, the wound dripping an ominous dark red. Anders took in a sharp breath, they may be bitter rivals but by the Maker, Fenris was beautiful. The strands of lyrium embedded into his skin shimmered in the light emancipating from the fire lamps. Fenris winced again at the pain radiating from the wound, markings flaring a bright blue. Anders may have loved Hawke, but there was something about the tension between them and their heated exchanges that had Anders thinking of Fenris in ways he should not have imagined. He could feel Justice clawing his way forward, trying to get closer to the lyrium's siren song. Thankfully, he managed to pull Justice back down into the corners of his mind. He could only imagine what horrible things the elf would do to him if he let Justice loose on him.
Pushing the less than innocent thoughts out of his mind, Anders laid his fingertips over the wound and began a healing spell. His hands began to glow an eerie blue, lighting up the small room in a blue haze. Fenris watched him intently, partly from suspicion and partly from the fact that it was incredible watching Anders work. Not that he'd ever admit to that of course. Why the mage would put his own health and strength on the line to help random strangers was beyond him.
The wound closed up, stitched together by magic, leaving not even a single scar or damaged tissue. Anders sighed and leaned against the bench, weariness etched on his features. Healing such a deep cut took a lot out of him, especially in his already worn-out state. Perhaps it was his sleep deprived mind that initiated, but in a complete moment of insanity, he reached over to where the wound once was and traced his fingers over it. When his fingers touched the lyrium, Fenris sat up, gaze shifting to the mages in a look that was almost predatory. He swiped the hand away and slammed Anders back against the wall, rattling the glass vials and potions on the shelves nearby.
"Do not…touch me!"
He gripped the mages arms tight, gauntlets pushing into his skin leaving pinpricks of blood blossoming from the indents. Fenris was furious that the mage was so bold as to touch him in such a caring manner. What right did the abomination have?
"Let go of me!" Anders demanded, squirming in his grasp, hopelessly pinned against the elf's arms.
Fenris remained alert, grip still iron on the mage. "What did you think you were doing, mage!"
"I just wanted…" he started, unsure of what exactly he could say to calm the elf down. "I don't have to explain anything to you." The mage dropped his gaze to the floor, seemingly uncomfortable.
Fenris glared at the man, but relaxed his grip, realizing Hawke would probably get angry if he executed his lover. Just as he was about to leave, Anders leaned forward, their lips brushing against each other. The elf froze, releasing his hold in surprise as Anders pulled him closer.
His mind was racing, urging him to run, but his feet wouldn't budge. The mage now had his teeth on his neck, biting and kissing with a sense of urgency and he wasn't exactly sure he wanted him to stop. As painful as it was to admit, Fenris wanted this as much as the blonde seemed to. He had no memory of any of his earlier intimate relations, or if they existed, and with Hawke spending most time with Anders, he had more than one occasion felt lonely and isolated. For one night at least, he would be wanted, able to entertain his needs, be it only lust. Isabela seemed to do it plenty and she turned out fine.
Drawn out of his thoughts, Fenris took the opportunity to push Anders back against the wall, lips and tongue mingling together.
"There will be nothing gentle about this," he thought, throwing Anders' heavy coat off his shoulders. Dragging his gauntlet clad fingertips across his back, he ripped off the mage's loose shirt, the thin fabric flitting to the floor. Anders responded to his touch by pressing into the elf, hands trailing the shining lyrium on his chest, dipping lower to his hips.
"I hate you," Fenris moaned, face heated and nails digging into his sides at the pressure. Anders smirked and pushed him roughly to the floor, positioning himself on top as he pinned Fenris' arms above his head. The elf growled at the position he now in, preferring to be in control, but quickly forgot when he felt Anders tongue doing utterly wicked, sinfully good things to his body.
They were startled by another knock at the door, and the sound of it creaking open. Fenris practically leapt to the other side of the room, picking up his armor and fastening up, while Anders tried to fix himself as presentable as possible. He didn't want any rumors going around about his love life, let alone a secret affair with an elf. Spotting his coat, he wrapped it around himself, covering up his growing arousal.
"Hawke?" Fenris asked, slightly out of breath, "Why did you come?"
"I was just checking up on you, Fenris," Hawke replied, glancing at the two, "I thought you might not have listened to me when I told you to get healed."
Fenris scoffed, "I may dislike the mage, but I trust you enough Hawke to not lead me astray."
Hawke smiled at this, "Well for that, I'm glad. Er, but Anders-," he noticed the torn up shirt, "What happened here?"
"Uh…it was the cats." He said quickly, "Sharp claws."
Fenris and Hawke both gave him a strange look, but nevertheless Hawke seemed to believe it.
"Well…I should be going," Fenris declared, partly trying to change the subject from Anders' ridiculous lie. He signaled Hawke to follow him, "You should too, Hawke. Darktown is dangerous at night. Allow me to accompany you."
As they left, Fenris glanced back at Anders, emerald eyes locking with amber. It made his heart jump and he smiled back, not daring to break his gaze. Once they were gone, Anders was left in the darkness of the clinic, replaying the moment over and over in his head, praying it would remain a secret.
@темы: Anders, Dragon Age 2, в запас, Fenris