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Hawke mumbled sleepily, lips brushing against the back of Anders’ neck as he coiled his arm around the mage’s slender waist and pulled him close. The pale dawn light had spread narrow fingers of warmth across the bed, kissing Hawke’s exposed shoulder and illuminating the sweat-damp cloud of Anders’ blond hair. Hawke pressed his lips to Anders’ temple, threading fingers through the tangled mass to gently comb it smooth and push it back to expose a deliciously biteable ear and an elegant curve of throat.
“Morning,” he said.
“Anders is sleeping,” Anders said in a playful – but thoroughly unconvincing – impression of Justice. Hawke grinned and nipped his earlobe, earning a tired grumble in response.
“I’ll leave you be,” he murmured against Anders’ ear, and he felt the slight arch in Anders’ back against his chest and heard the sharp catch in his breath.
“Didn’t say that.”
Hawke reluctantly released Anders’ warm body, and Anders flopped onto his stomach with a sigh. His skin was still damp with sweat from the night before – and what a night it had been. The memory of Anders’ mouth was good – the soft, yielding heat of it as he took Hawke’s cock down to the base – but the mental image of Anders straddling him, driving himself down on his length as he bit his lip and whimpered, well, that was even better. Hawke peeled back the sheet slowly, revealing the body he knew so well inch by inch.
Anders’ skin caught the light beautifully, palest gold, scattered with tiny dark freckles. There were scars too. Even though he still ached for what Anders had suffered before they met, they were just part of Anders now. He traced his fingers over the shifting texture of Anders’ lean back – the defined muscles of his shoulders and upper back, the rise and fall of silver scars, and the sharp knobs of his spine. He’d lost a little weight again – and Hawke frowned, but said nothing. It was too early to worry, he was here to appreciate – and at any weight, there was plenty to fall in love with all over again.
He pushed the sheet lower – still fogged with the remains of sleep, still lazy and patient, but feeling the definite stirrings of desire as he exposed Anders’ hips. He loved the sharp ridge of hipbones – loved the way they felt against his hands as he gripped Anders tight and pounded into him until he screamed. Hawke’s cock twitched at the thought, hardening rapidly as he shoved the sheet down further and let it slide off the foot of the bed.
Anders’ thighs were spread wide – he was a sprawling sleeper, lanky limbs filling any space as he twisted and splayed in his sleep. Hawke ran his hand up and down one taut thigh – and yes, Anders was definitely interested. The muscle tensed under Hawke’s hand, and he kneaded firmly, drawing a muffled groan from where Anders’ face was buried in the pillows.
“Last night was so good,” Hawke said softly. His hand drifted higher, up to the slight curve of Anders’ ass. He squeezed, relishing Anders’ gasp and the firm muscle beneath his hand. “What d’you think – ready to climb on top again?”
“Mmph, no,” Anders mumbled. He arched his back, his ass rising slightly and Hawke caught a glimpse of his tight entrance as he shifted. His cock dragged against the sheets, and Hawke slid his hand down to brush his fingertips over his balls.
“No?” Hawke chuckled, and swept his fingers up the cleft of Anders’ ass – not pressing deep to touch him how he wanted, how they both wanted – just enough to make Anders squirm.
“No to – up,” Anders said. “Not no to – to – mm, this.”
Hawke rolled up onto his knees between Anders’ spread thighs, and flattened his hands against his ass. Anders whined faintly as Hawke squeezed, digging his nails into the smooth skin. The fine dusting of freckles here was, he thought, probably his favourite. They were rivalled only by the smattering across Anders’ nose and cheeks – but these were special. These were only for him and Justice, a secret hidden under bulky layers of clothing, just waiting for Hawke to explore.
Hawke pushed up, rippling the slight softness of Anders’ hips as his firm cheeks were lifted and spread. He was left exposed – panting shamelessly as Hawke gazed down at the tight pucker of his ass. He’d never been so desperately, painfully aroused by the sight as he was with Anders – oh, he loved a man with a good ass, could spend hours watching his previous lovers move in tight trousers or rocking back against his cock. But there was something so much more about this – the moment where Anders’ legs parted for him, showing him everything completely unashamed, writhing wantonly against the sheets.
“You – just going to look at it?” Anders thrust against the bed – slow, languid strokes that weren’t quite lazy enough to hide how eager he was. Hawke grinned and flattened himself over Anders’ body, feeling him breathing heavily beneath his bulk as he swept his hair away from his neck and trailed soft, breathy kisses up to just below his ear. He dragged his tongue over the shell of Anders’ ear, groaning low in his throat the way he knew the mage liked it, and Anders whined in response and one of his hands reached up to twist in his own hair.
“Mm, that’s it,” Hawke purred. He slid down his body slowly, his own cock achingly hard where it pressed against Anders’ thigh.
A kiss, a bite, a slow, firm suck – followed by a swipe of tongue. Hawke set a pattern, his clever mouth and wicked tongue always left Anders shaking, long before he dropped below his waist Anders was keening faintly, both hands tight in his strawberry blond hair. He knew Anders’ body well – well enough to take him apart kiss by kiss as he nipped at sensitive skin and swept his tongue on well-travelled paths between freckles and over the thinned skin of old scars.
He turned Anders’ body slightly as he reached his hips, twisting him to bite hard at one raised ridge of bone. Anders cried out, then moaned, and Hawke soothed the sting with a trail of feather-soft kisses that worked from the bruised hip across to the small of Anders’ back.
“Still sleepy?” Hawke said. His lips brushed the skin, and Anders shivered in response.
“Mmhmm,” he moaned. “Could be woken up, though.”
Hawke smirked, and shuffled lower down the bed. He settled flush against Anders’ left leg, his stiff cock brushing against a calf dusted with coarse hair. It wasn’t the friction he needed, but it was Anders, and it was enough to make him bite his lip and groan. One of Hawke’s hand moved to Anders’ ass, gripping the right cheek firmly to spread him again, and he pressed his lips to a cluster of freckles just below his left hip.
“Definitely gonna do that,” he groaned softly. He kissed the warm skin, inhaling the slightly sharp scent of Anders’ sweat, and grinned. His lips parted, and he swirled his tongue against Anders’ skin, open mouthed kisses trailing across his ass as Anders panted eagerly. Hawke tightened his grip, his other hand drifting up to dig into Anders’ hip and hold him in place – and Hawke bit down.
Anders yelped – Maker, that sounded good, sharp and shocked and needy. Hawke groaned, slid lower, and bit him again. The taut skin dented under his teeth, and Hawke’s growl left Anders trembling as he fisted his hands in his hair.
“You – oh, you tease,” Anders panted.
“You love it.” Hawke strained to reach the half-empty bottle of oil from the bedside table, aching at every point his body was pulled away from Anders’. He missed him any moment they weren’t touching – any moment he wasn’t thrusting into his beautifully responsive body. Anders’ whine suggested he felt the same, and Hawke wasted no time in pulling their bodies close again, one hand spreading Anders’ ass as he traced an oiled finger over his twitching balls.
“You have – the most beautiful ass,” Hawke groaned.
He swept the pad of his finger up slowly – so slowly, fighting the rising urgency, the sweet burn of tension coiling in his gut begging him to hurry, to thrust the oiled digit into Anders’ eager body and finger him roughly until he begged. The haze of sleep still clinging to him – to them both – held him steady. There was pleasure in teasing too – and Anders responded to it so well. Hawke circled his entrance with the oiled fingertip, and the sound Anders made was almost a sob.
“You like that?” Hawke nipped the flushed skin of his ass again and Anders gasped his name raggedly, pushing back against his finger. Hawke kept his touch light – circling, then stroking, and finally pressing down just enough to knead at the clenching ring of muscle. Anders’ hips bucked and he whined, his tight hole twitching under Hawke’s finger. Hawke rested his chin on the quivering muscle of Anders’ ass and watched as he pressed his fingertip against Anders’ entrance – and they both moaned as he slowly pressed inside.
“Oh – please,” Anders moaned. Hawke let his finger slide in to the first joint, giving Anders less than an inch – unbearably good, and unbearably little, leaving him shaking. “Please – please…”
Hawke smirked and began to work his way into the tight, slick heat. Anders could take one finger easily, but he wanted to draw this out – wanted to hear every hoarse gasp as he thrust agonizingly slowly, shallow dips of his fingertip as he toyed with Anders’ slightly flushed entrance.
“Wish you could see,” he said softly. He let his finger slide deeper, almost to the second joint. A glance up showed Anders tugging desperately at his hair, his shoulders shaking as his breath came in quick, shallow pants. “Always – so good. Around my fingers, my cock, my tongue…”
“Nngh…”
“Love your ass,” Hawke groaned, rocking his hand to gradually work deeper. Then, because it seemed as good a time as any to mention it, “Love you.”
“You – too,” Anders gasped. “Oh – more, please.”
Hawke slid his finger in to the knuckles, his hand pressing firmly against Anders’ ass as the slick, tight hole clenched around his finger. The catch in Anders’ breath became a shaky groan, and as Hawke crooked his finger, that groan became a roughened, eager cry.
“There?” Hawke pressed the pad of his finger against the sensitive spot, and Anders moaned his name like a prayer – like blasphemy – like it was the only word he could even think. Hawke groaned at the broken edge in Anders’ voice – he wanted to hear it again, wanted it louder, utterly unrestrained as he watched his finger thrust into his slick entrance. The tight rim took his finger easily, stretching around him, warm, oiled flesh gliding over Hawke’s skin as he twisted his wrist, rocked, thrust, and wrung desperate cries from Anders’ straining throat.
Anders’ hips jerked, his moans pitching higher. Hawke glanced up to see the beaded fresh sweat on his upper back, the way his hands yanked at his hair – and a quick look down showed Anders’ toes scrunched in the sheets, calves straining as his whole body was swept up in wave after wave of pleasure. Hawke sped up the skilled strokes of his finger – he could do this, could take Anders apart with just one finger. After three years together, he knew Anders’ body as well as he knew his own – perhaps even better. He curled his finger again and Anders howled, rolling his hips against the bed in sharp, shaky thrusts.
“I’m – Maker, love, I – how are you so – so good…”
“That’s it,” Hawke growled.
“Oh – fuck.”
Anders’ quick thrusts became stuttering and urgent, back arching as he gasped, sobbed and moaned his way through his climax. Hawke could see the base of his cock as he rutted helplessly against the sheets, the thick trails of his come smeared over the rigid flesh as he kept grinding and whimpering through every last flicker of pleasure, his ass clenching around Hawke’s finger as he breathed his name once more – and his body went limp.
“That was…” Hawke’s words failed him – there were no words, none that he was eloquent enough for, at least. His own arousal was almost painful – lazy morning sex had become something much more urgent, heat flaring between them as he surged up Anders’ body to bite down on his shoulder with a snarl. He wanted to be inside him – now, if not sooner – but he hadn’t prepared him near enough and he couldn’t be patient for that much longer. Hawke rolled onto his side with Anders pinned close against his chest, panting and growling as he slid his thigh between Anders’ long, lean legs and levered them apart.
“This – isn’t going to take long,” he panted. “If you could just – see – if you could hear…”
Hawke tipped the remains of the oil over Anders thighs, spilling most of it onto the sheets. He let the discarded bottle fall, smearing the oil over Anders’ inner thighs roughly before letting them fall closed around his aching length.
“Fuck,” he gasped. He mouthed at Anders’ shoulder, wrapping both arms tight around his chest, clamping his thigh around the outside of Anders’ to hold them tight together. The firm grip of his muscular thighs was consuming all thought, soft skin enclosing his cock as he began to rock his hips.
How long had it been since they’d had a morning like this? Hawke tried to banish the thought, his eyes falling closed as he thrust raggedly, teeth finding Anders’ ear and digging in until Anders whimpered. Weeks, at least, waking up to a cold bed and a note scrawled in two different hands. Hawke screwed his eyes shut tighter, focusing on the rapid build of heat and pleasure, the thunder of his pulse in his ears and the warm, solid presence of Anders against his chest. He was here now, that was all that mattered.
“Anders,” he groaned. He mouthed at his neck, sucked hard at the bruised skin of his shoulder, and pulled him impossibly closer. His fingernails dug into Anders’ skin as if he could keep him here forever, a tangle of limbs and mingled, gasping breaths. His cock throbbed and ached, his thighs trembling as he fucked the oiled clench of Anders’ thighs.
His skin prickled with each racing rush of heat and need – his body raced towards his peak, bringing the mercy of emptiness to his mind, the utter bliss of absence of thought. Anders moaned and reached back to tangle his hands in Hawke’s hair, holding his head close as Hawke snarled and panted against his neck. His voice cracked as he groaned Anders’ name - and the pooled heat inside him flooded his senses, flooded his mind, and he spilled over Anders’ thighs with a broken moan.
The sun was rising, and soon Anders would pull away – for the clinic, for Maker-knew what else he did, where else he went. For now, he was here – the scent of sweat and sex on his skin, his heartbeat pounding under Hawke’s palm. Stolen moments, taken where they could find them.