He bristled, slightly angry at Justices words. He knew that the Spirit was only telling the truth because Anders had asked a question. Granted said question had been rhetorical. Did Justice grasp the concept of a rhetorical question? Perhaps not, considering his was answered. A conversation for another day perhaps, there were other things to address.
He had gone to argue with the Spirit; the sense of his own self preservation had been what had kept him alive up until the point he had met him but the words had not formed, instead his lips parted, a soft gasp of air passing through his lips as his felt his hands, Justice’s hands trail down his throat and dance upon his collarbones.
He had ached to lean his head back, but it had barely moved a fraction. Justice currently had an iron grip on the strings and Anders wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to have them back.
Heart thudded against his ribs as his hands wandered lower, a trail of warmth following in their wake. He was not unaccustomed to Justice’s touches, but his traitorous body did not know the difference between caresses.
The name had been spoken in warning as a wave of heat rippled through him, settling into a tight coil at the base of his stomach as he felt fingers brush his thighs. Another vocal noise escaped him, a groan as it caught on his throat and he attempted to swallow the sound, his face beginning to sport a flush, although if that flush was shame or something else was uncertain.
Again he had gone to address the Spirit, but the words were stolen from him as he felt fingers trace the length of his waistband.
He knew what Justice was referencing and he wondered if the crack in his voice would be heard when he felt fingers slip under his waistband, teasing the hot skin there with delicate touches.
His voice echoed around him, soft and quivering. He knew Justice was curious but Anders wondered if the Spirit knew what he was doing to his body. He could feel the bodies reactions as if it was his own, but perhaps it was the curiosity to explore those feelings which drove him to these gentle touches.
They had never really touched on things like this, Anders urges and needs had remained his own and it seemed, for a time, Justice was content with that.
But apparently times had changed.
We were lovers.. for a time.
A small wave of sadness smothered the growing heat as he recalled their last meeting in the Chantry; the dagger in his hands and his lover in his arms.
It feels like an eternity since I felt his touch.
The thought had slipped out before he could stop it, the warmth now flooding to his face, reigniting the blush which had laid dormant on his flesh.
Soft, useless, weak flesh that had no will of its own. But apparently not. As he touched various parts of the body in various manners, nails sometimes scratching over arms, fingertips tickling over the chest, slipping under the old shirt to feel warm skin, he noticed how breathing changed, the heartrate picking up, beating loudly in his consciousness. His skin was too hot. The left hand stopped, tracing along the area where thighs went over into the pelvic area, legs sligthly spread to make space for the fine index finger. He stopped, listening to the confession, the pained memories of Karls and sloppy kisses in the dark. He plucked the strings of memory, trying to find out more. About soft caresses, moans muffled with pillows, about hands and mouths and sweaty bodies. Random encounters with other people, just get pressure off the system, sweat, hot skin, soft and pliable flesh.
'Your flesh is hot,' he simply stated, fascinated by the useless, slobby flesh hardening with the right touches, heating up without his hand ever ending up there. He was equally fascinated by the way it seemed to slack down once this heated body was deprived of all touch or once pain was inflicted anywhere. Pinching, scratching, caresses, deprivation, this play of provoking reactions and wait for them to vanish again. It was fascinating and yet he didn't like the heat. He prefered the cool neutrality of the Fade and its howling winds storming over him. But it was alright... He could live with it. The heat of a human body was a small price to pay for what he got to see... and for what he could change in this world.
'It's too hot,' he complained with a disapproving noise as the right hand slipped past all fabric, feeling hardened, heated flesh, skin on skin and the marvellous physical reactions that followed. The rapid heartbeat, the breath, the body trying to move on its own, in a natural strive for more touch. Movement. Pressure. The hand didn't move. Justice merely observed, critically, not without a hint of disgust at such carnal desire, so easily roused
yousharknotpass
prguitarman
amandla
tangentwithtanner
ellievsbear
discoholicmusic
theartofmadeline
turnnoffyourmind
