Summary: you wake up in the very early morning, wondering what goes on in the head of the god beside you while he sleeps. Disregarding your questions of the heart, you take a page from Anders’ book and replace your emotions with sex, initiating a slow and soft morning session that in no way expresses how either of you feel.
Warnings: unprotected M/F intercourse, feelings.
A/N: this is a stand alone fic that will tie in with the theme of two upcoming Anders fics I’m working on.
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What do god’s dream of, you wondered, looking at the one beside you who’s form was disguised by shadows.
It was early, your room still shrouded in a blanket of darkness and you reveled in the feel of knowing time remained for you to bask in this undisturbed peace that only existed at such a young hour of the day.
Anders looked so serene, like his worries and stress melted away in his sound sleep, your bed having become his nearly every night for a week, and you couldn’t be happier for it for more than one reason.
Admiring the way his eyelashes danced across his cheeks as his mind was lost in a world all of his own creation, you found yourself unknowingly following the tempo of his breathing. It was slow and calm, much like the tide would be, and very unlike the harsh and laboured breaths he’d been panting only hours ago.
Did he dream of you?
Soft snores blew out of his slightly parted lips, making you feel the undeniable need to reach out to trace them with your finger, or to meet them with yours even more so. But you didn’t want to wake him. He no doubt needed rest and repair after the full night of intense and raw sex you had engaged in, and anyway, you were enjoying watching him be quiet and still for once.
Part of you was tempted to sneak out of bed to start brewing coffee, the other part wanting to toss every clock out onto the street and cover the windows so the encroaching morning couldn’t disturb this solace of you and him and the intimacy of sleep he had been weary to share for so long. You knew that for Anders, something as normal and natural as sleeping beside another person was a big deal, something he didn’t give out willingly. The thought made you smile to yourself and you shuffled so your body moved closer to his, tucking your face into his neck, your hands folding against your own chest so they were sandwiched between both of you. A contented sigh left your lips as you relaxed into him, feeling his arm wrap around you to encase you in his warmth, and your heart skipped a beat as you felt his troubled one pulse calmly against the back of your hand.
Your eyes closed to allow your other senses to take over, breathing in the scent of stale sex and the warmth of his skin, your body instantly a few degrees hotter now that you were fused to him. Being here like this made you feel so safe, so at ease, even though most of the time being with Anders was everything but.
To be honest, he scared you. Knowing that your treacherous heart beat furiously at any thought or mention of him, that slowly you were falling into a place where you were certain nothing you felt could be reciprocated, that you’d inevitably be left with an imprint of him scarring you forever, a piece taken with him when he left. So you told yourself again as you had many times before that this was simply a physical act and nothing more was to come of it.
Your body seemed to agree with your mind, the closeness of your flesh igniting the fire that had settled into a waiting ember, the familiar ache of missing the fullness he created within you stirring again.
Did his unconscious mind recall the feel of your connected bodies, the way you moved with each other to plummet into oblivion together? Or did a god like him simply dream of anyone and everyone. Was the face and heart of whom the body he sought his pleasure from unimportant and meaningless?
Burying your wavering surety as to why he continued to hang around, you turned your face up to his and placed a light kiss on his stubble-coated jawline, allowing yourself to hide those uncertainties by masking them with pleasure.
If he could shield his heart from the risk of pain, you could too.
Peppering more kisses along his neck and growing beard, your hands moved to draw languid patterns across his chest, your fingertips swirling into the impossibly curly hairs that decorated him. Your hand paused over his heart, careful, your mind quickly warned, so you moved it away, up to cup his warm cheek as your lips met with his.
A sleepy moan hummed against your desperate, seeking mouth, his breath tickling the soft flesh that burned from too many kisses already, and Anders sighed heavily as you flicked your tongue against his, your call for him to wake.
His hand wrapped behind you, carding lazily across your hip and down to your bum, squeezing your flesh as he pulled you flush against him, his cock alert and ready far before his mind would be.
You followed his lead and hooked your leg over his hip, his head poking at your slightly sore, but already wet folds, his hand holding your leg there as if in fear you would suddenly part from him.
A drawn out moan filled the otherwise silent room when you angled your hips enough to allow him entrance, his mouth dancing with yours languidly while he filled you inch by inch. Your hands clawed at his back, raking over his sleepy skin as you found the perfect, unhurried tempo, rocking against his length and knowing you could never forget the feel of him inside you. It felt like Anders was melting into you, his face impossibly close to yours, his chest pressing against you so much that your heart threatened to jump out of yours and into his, no space between where you stayed connected, your core tightly contacting the coarse hairs on his lower belly. He shifted slightly so he was more on top of you now, his thrusts still incredibly lazy but deliberate, coaxing the familiar heat that slowly grew deep within you. His eyes remained closed, and you wondered if he was still consumed by sleep, his body acting on its own in the way that was most natural to him.
Quiet but raspy whimpers spilled out of his mouth and onto your neck and his hips pumped with more power, only still at the deliciously slow pace. Anders rested his weight completely on you, his arms giving up on supporting himself to instead wrap under your back to pull you even closer to him, your previous sessions clearly leaving him spent of energy.
Rolling your hips to match his movements, you sluggishly came undone, your orgasm falling over you in such a way you could feel it ravage each part of you bit by bit as it traveled through you, drastically different from the hard and fast way it usually assaulted. The shivering and contracting of your walls milked out his sluggish end, his mouth consuming yours with force, his groans of rapture muffled into you.
Although he had stilled, you could feel his cock pulsing inside you, filling you once again with his warm spend, and finally he moved his head away from you enough to see him in the early morning glow, his blue eyes open and full of fire like the sun that was beginning to crack the last of the night sky.
Your hand reached up to run your fingers over his brow, taking in his sleepy expression that made you feel a little guilty.
“I’m sorry I woke you,” you whispered. “You’re still so tired.”
“I’m not,” he replied honestly in a drowsy tone, his answer holding a double meaning he wished for you to catch.
Despite having just been roused from the depths of a short sleep, Anders felt more awake than ever before.
His senses were heightened and his body responded the way his heart willed him to, slow and calculated, the affection he felt from you and for you disguised as fatigue that clung on, no doubt tricking you into believing his passive actions were the result of being hazy from slumber. He pressed his lips to yours again, hiding the smile that formed because of how simply happy he felt, the hope that you were growing to care for, and even possibly love him, lingering in a part of him he never dared entertain before.
