"I fucking hate you," Fenris hisses as he shoves Anders against a wall, claiming his mouth in a filthy, possessive kiss. Anders moans, the pain adding to his pleasure.
"I know," he murmurs in return, groaning with pleasure as the elf claws his back, digging in so fiercely there is sure to be blood staining the sheets in the morning.
"I hate you so fucking much," the former slave growls as he roughly slides into the mage, eyes burning with lust, need, and something that is so obviously not hate.
"I know," Anders moans, pale legs wrapping around his lover's tanned torso, head thumping back onto the pillow as Fenris pounds into him relentlessly. Because he does know. He knows that hate is the only way Fenris knows how to express his love. It's all he's ever known. Anders knows, and he accepts this.
He loves him for it.
And he hates him for it.