Nathaniel found himself sitting on the bed, his ill-fitting dress shoes kicked to the side, his worn suit jacket strung over the chair. The television played a black and white melodrama about an Orleasian prince, the static fading in and out.
The shower was still running. Anders had been in there for twenty minutes. He had always taken long showers, Nathaniel reasoned to himself as he went to the mini fridge and poured himself a drink. There was no reason to fear he was avoiding him.
And yet he could not stop the mantra in his head again and again: If he loved you, wouldn't he have come back?
48 hours ago he didn't know Anders was still alive. Now here he was, a few feet away, in this very hotel room. Nathaniel chastised himself for being over optimistic. On the plane to Kirkwall, he had this daydream of Anders running into his arms and promising to never leave his side again.
Yet in the morning, Nathaniel would go back to Amaranthine and Anders was not coming with him.
Nathaniel poured two glasses of whiskey, adding a few pieces of ice to Anders' drink as he heard the water turn off. Nathaniel turned off the TV and sat back on the bed, looking out the window at the city lights of Kirkwall. He heard footsteps and he turned to see Anders wrapped in a towel, his blonde hair tangled and dripping slightly onto the carpet.
"My clothes still smell like the jail cell," Anders looked sheepishly at the ground, "You wouldn't happen to have some spares?"
"They might be a bit big," Nathaniel replied, pointing to his worn pack, "I'll have the hotel clean your clothes so they'll be ready tomorrow."
Anders hesitated, but thanked Nathaniel as he took the pack with him to change in the washroom. The mage returned shortly, faded jeans rolled up, Nathaniel's Warden t-shirt loose and baggy on his thin body.
Anders smirked slightly looking down at himself, "Now I know what you would look like shorter and skinnier."
"You're not nearly as hairy as I am," Nathaniel replied, handing him his drink, "You would have to fill it in with a marker."
"Not quite worth the effort. Besides, I don't think I would make a good brunette."
Anders took the drink and sat on the bed beside Nathaniel, drinking slowly.
Anders laughed slightly, putting the glass on the floor, "Sorry, this is a little absurd, isn't it? This has been such a strange day."
"I know what you mean," Nathaniel admitted, reaching out for Anders' hand. Anders lightly took it in his own. Nathaniel felt his heart leap slightly.
"I know there's a lot you want to ask," Anders said softly, "If I was in your shoes…I…I would not be taking this as well as you."
"I thought you were dead," Nathaniel said softly, "I prayed you weren't. Every night I prayed that you were out there somewhere, that one day you would come home."
"Amaranthine isn't my home anymore."
"And that hovel in Darktown is?"
"I'm doing real work here, Nate," Anders said, standing to lean against the windowsill, "More than I ever could have done with the Wardens. And there is so much more work to do."
"You're so thin," Nathaniel said softly, touching Anders' arm.
"This isn't about me," Anders said, "There are more important things in this world than me."
"Not to me there isn't."
Anders turned around, tears in his eyes, "What do you want me to say, Nate? That we can go back to it all? That we can just move on from this? I could hurt you, I nearly killed you all, please, please…just…."
Nathaniel stood and swept Anders into his arms, kissing him deeply. Anders sobbed as he threw his arms around Nathaniel, crying into his shoulder.
"I'm so tired, Nate," Anders cried, "I'm so tired. Everything I do, I can't save them all, I can't protect them all."
"You don't have to," Nathaniel whispered, kissing his forehead, "You're one man, Anders. This isn't worth what you're doing to yourself. We were happy once. We could be happy again."
"Remind me," Anders said, looking up at Nathaniel, "Remind me what it was like."
Nathaniel caught his breath, looking down at desperate man in his arms. Part of him thought he should refrain, to not take advantage of Anders when he was so vulnerable.
Yet when Anders kissed him, his hands reaching to unbutton Nathaniel's shirt, he knew he could not resist. His hands went to Anders' pants, undoing his belt, the jeans sliding off easily without them. He smiled. After all these years, Anders still didn't wear underwear.
Anders' body felt cold under his hands and after Anders tossed his own shirt off and Nathaniel shrugged off his, he pulled the mage unto the bed with him, wrapping him in the thin sheets. Anders reached for Nathaniel's pants, but he pushed them off himself, kissing down his chest and through his blonde downy hair. Anders was still soft when Nathaniel took him into his mouth but he grew harder quickly as Nathaniel sucked his cock tenderly.
Anders moaned, tossing his head back and propping himself upward to better see. Nathaniel looked up at him and their eyes met for a moment as Anders bit his lip, stifling a grunt. Nathaniel nuzzled his face into his groin, quickening his pace. He felt his own cock growing. He looked up and saw a slight unease on Anders' face and he let go of his cock, kissing it affectionately as he knelt above Anders.
"What is it?" Nathaniel asked, eyes wide as he tried to understand Anders' discomfort.
"I don't deserve this," Anders said with a sad smile, "I should not be rewarded. You shouldn't treat me like this. Not after leaving you. Not after making you come all the way here to get me out of a stupid mess."
"Anders," Nathaniel said, exasperated, "This isn't about any of that."
"Then what is this?" Anders said, his hand stroking Nathaniel's cheek, "What are you trying to prove, Nate?"
Nathaniel took his hand in his and kissed it, "That you are still worthy of being loved. You never stopped being worthy of love."
Anders tried to protest but Nathaniel kissed him then, his arms wrapping around him as he brought his lover close to him. Anders threw his arms around him, kissing his neck as Nathaniel ran his hands down his back.
They stroked each other gently, their kisses continuing long and soft, their bodies pressed together, fitting together in familiar ways. Nathaniel did not want to let go of him as Anders pulled away slightly.
"I want you in me," Anders murmured, nuzzling against Nathaniel.
His heart leaped, "We'll take it slowly, I promise."
"Am I really so delicate?" Anders laughed softly.
Nathaniel looked at his thinned body, the lines of age creeping across his face, the cut across his cheek only starting to heal. Nathaniel had sworn to keep him safe, that no Templar would hurt him ever again. Yet as he laid beside him, Nathaniel could see his failure and his heart pained, knowing Anders would never let him help again.
Nathaniel kissed him and left his side to find the pack in the bathroom. He stood at the sink and looked up at himself in the mirror. In those few seconds, he made his mind up, taking the lubrication he had packed away. After the years in the woods, he had learned to be prepared for anything.
He returned to see Anders lying on his side, his naked body covered only by a thin sheet, the streetlight highlighting the bruise around his right eye. Nathaniel took off his own pants and briefs, tossing them to the side. Anders came to rest on his knees as Nathaniel came to the bedside. Anders kissed Nathaniel's stomach and kissed the tip of his cock, which bobbed slightly in appreciation. He pulled him onto the bed with him, wrapping his thighs around his.
Nathaniel explored Anders' body until he reached that pucker of flesh. Coating his fingers with the lubricant, he slowly entered a finger inside him. It was tight and warm around him and he sighed slightly, Anders groaning slightly as he bit into Nathaniel's shoulder.
"Sorry," Anders murmured, "It's been awhile."
"Just relax," Nathaniel whispered, kissing him gently. Anders sighed deeply, resting his face in Nathaniel's chest as his finger stretched him tenderly. Anders kissed his collarbone and Nathaniel added another finger, reaching deeper inside him. Anders moaned and his hand went to his softening cock, stroking it as Nathaniel continued. Nathaniel held him closer, arching his fingers deep inside as he stroke his swollen mound. Anders cried out, pumping faster, bucking against Nathaniel's fingers.
He removed his fingers, Anders still stroking himself as he looked deeply into Nathaniel's eyes. Nathaniel hooked his thigh around his, angling his cock against Anders, feeling the vibrations of Anders' pumping hand against him. Anders nodded and kissed Nathaniel deeply as he slid inside of him. Nathaniel choked out a moan, nearly coming undone there and then. Anders groaned and Nathaniel moved inside of him, slowly, methodically, his hands wrapped around Anders as he pulled him closer to him.
Anders moved them to be on top of Nathaniel, his Commander lying beneath him as Anders took his cock in to the hilt, still stroking himself. Nathaniel cried out as Anders thrust them, moving up and down with an increased rhythm. Nathaniel tried to hold on to him, their skin slapping against each other.
"Anders," Nathaniel murmured, looking up at him. He knew the lubrication was drying; he needed to add more before it grew sore. But as he tried to move to reach the bottle, Anders pinned down his arm. Nathaniel tried to protest, but Anders kissed him and Nathaniel moved with him.
Nathaniel shifted, bringing the mage beneath him, holding his thighs around him. He quickly coated his cock with more lubrication before slipping back into him. Anders' legs started to shake around him and held him closer, not losing his gaze as he thrust into him.
"Nate," Anders whispered, "Nate. I need you to make me come. Tell me I can, please."
"Anders," Nathaniel said, between feverish kisses, "I need you to come. Do it for me."
Anders cried out as his hand squeezed his cock, seed spilling out against Nathaniel's chest. Nathaniel kissed him deeply, their chests pressed together as he thrust deeper into him, Anders shaking around him as Nathaniel spilled his own seed inside of him.
They held each other, panting and crying, sloppy kisses shared while Nathaniel stroked Anders' arms and legs. Nathaniel did not want to let go of him, wanted to hold him close to him for as long as he could.
But Anders insisted they should clean up and kissed Nathaniel softly before going to the washroom. As he heard the shower turn on again, Nathaniel sat back on the edge of the bed, wrapping the sheet around his body.
He turned back on the melodrama, and he cried just softly enough as to not be heard over the prince's speech to an angry mob of Antivan Crows. Nathaniel knew he had to hold it together for a bit longer, he would be home tomorrow, and then he could really fall apart.
But he truly understood then that Anders would not be coming back with him. He wanted to curse Justice, curse the Templars, curse all who led them here. Even himself. As the Antivan Crows cheered and the water continued pouring, Nathaniel went back to his glass, holding it in his palm.
He looked out unto the lights of Kirkwall and silently cursed himself for having come here.