NOTE: I've always thought that blood magic would have a negative effect on it's caster. It's an easier form of magic that doesn't require all the years of training (as we saw with Johane Harriman) that could be used as a shortcut. I'd imagine it has an addictive quality to it, like heroine or cocaine, that makes it difficult for mages who have used to give it up. Some addicts feel as though the drugs opened a door to their more base impulses and desires. In this chapter, I explored the idea with Garrett.
Chapter 1 The Blackened Door
Garrett watched the ancient prison burn in the distance. He wasn't certain what had caused the fire, but he felt that there were Grey Wardens working behind the scene to destroy any evidence of their unholy secret. Janeka was dead at Hawke's hand and Larius had disappeared. It was tempting to hunt down the man who had threatened his poor mother all those years ago and forced Malcolm to pass on a terrible burden. It was his concern for Anders that prevented his hunt. That thing had reached into his mind and tormented him, nearly taking his sanity and free will. He would not allow his desire for vengeance to overtake his duty to his love.
Once they had made some progress from the tower, he had gone ahead of the others, wanting a moment of silence to reflect on all he had learned in the last few days. About himself, about his family, about the things that lurked beneath the world's placid surface. He couldn't help but shake his head as all these revelations swarmed his mind. There truly was no such thing as coincidence, only the fickle hand of fate stringing him along until he reached the end of whatever path he was meant to travel.
.1
Bethany and Garrett had hurried from the Hightown market to take a ferry to the Gallows. They were both still covered in sweat and grime from their encounter with the crazed dwarves, but didn't care. They needed to get to Carver and warn him. They must have made quite the sight running up the stairs to the courtyard, as the Templar recruit who was posted at the gate gave them a strange look and almost refused them entry. He was persuaded to step aside when a bright gold sovereign was pushed in to his hand. The courtyard was mostly empty except for a few mages and the Tranquil merchants. Garrett saw Alain talking with a group of other mages, among them was Grace and Aeryn. They all stopped talking the moment they saw him, eyes fixed with hard expressions that made Garrett uncomfortable. He ignored them and went to speak with the only two Templars he could see.
"Ser Thrask," Garrett saw the familiar red bearded Templar standing with the Knight Captain. The two were in the midst of a discussion and it didn't appear to be about a pleasant one. Cullen appeared to be displeased with whatever Thrask had said and dismissed the other with a wave of his hand.
"Serah Hawke," Thrask said, his usual tone of amusement subdued, "I was wondering when you would arrive." He inclined his head and motioned for Garrett to follow.
"You are here for your brother?" The Hawke siblings were led to a different wing of the Gallows that was set aside as living quarters for the Templars. The harshness of the stone hall was softened by a number of tapestries depicting the Chantry's history and a few thick rugs that muffled the sounds of their heavy boots. "There was an incident earlier with several dwarves, Carta dwarves I believe."
"Is he alright Serah?" Bethany asked.
"He got a little roughed up, but the Carta faired far worse." For once, Garrett felt grateful towards the Templars. They could be a righteous bunch of bastards, but they took care of their own. They stopped in front of a closed door, "Ser Carver," Thrask knocked and pushed open the door, "you have visitors." Carver was sitting a bed and wrapping up his leg.
"Beth? What are you…" Bethany sat down next to him and took a strip of gauze and started cleaning up the small cuts on her twin's hands. Garrett let out a small sigh of relief. Carver was their father's son through and through, he could take a punch and hit back twice as hard. The Carta hadn't known what they were getting into dealing with Malcolm Hawke's progeny.
"Serah Hawke, might I have a moment?" Garrett nodded and followed the Templar a bit down the hall and just out of hearing range for the twins. The Templar regarded him for a moment, stroking his thick red beard thoughtfully. "You're a mage." If there was one thing that Garrett liked about Thrask, it was his ability to be blunt.
"Yes." There was no point in lying, the whole city was aware of his mage status. "Is that a problem?"
"Depends on who you ask, serah. The mages under my care certainly don't think. And you have made a few friends among my Order." Garrett had saved the lives of several Templars over the years. There was also the more personal matter of Thrask's daughter Olivia. The girl had been captured by the same slavers as Feynriel. Garrett had not arrived in time to save her from becoming an abomination and had been forced to put her down. He had left out the part about her turning into a monster when giving Thrask her letter and the Chantry amulet she had been wearing. It was kinder to allow the man to remember as she had been rather than the thing she had become.
"And what is your opinion?" Thrask reached under the collar of his tunic and pulled out his daughter's necklace.
"You discovered the truth about my daughter and did not use it against me."
"I was only doing the right thing." Garrett shrugged, "I know she loved you and wanted to protect you. I couldn't save her, so I might as well fulfill her last wish." Thrask smiled and let out a small laugh.
"The right thing yes, but not the easy one. Most people in this world prefer the latter. But not you, Serah." Thrask clapped a hand companionably on Garrett's shoulder, "you may be a mage, but you are good man first. That is something truly worthy of respect. You will always have a supporter in me."
"You honor me," Garrett said, thanking the older man, "I am glad my brother has you for a comrade."
"Your brother is a skilled swordsmen, better than most of his peers," Thrask acknowledged as they walked back down the corridor to the twins, "he slew three of the dwarves single handedly. The Knight Captain finished the other two. You should speak to him before you leave. He found a letter on one of the would be assassins, perhaps you can use it to find the bastard who put the hit on your family."
"I will do that. Carver," he called, "I want you to come back to the estate for a bit until we figure out whose behind the attacks."
"I can't just leave brother," Carver stood up with a slight limp, "I have a duty to the Order and the mages." Garrett frowned, but did not fight his brother. A hot spike of anger sliced through him as he considered ignoring his brother's protests and dragging him home to where he could keep an eye on him. If those thugs came back, he would be ready for them. But, Carver was right, he had taken vows when he had joined the Order. He couldn't run off following his brother on another wild adventure without receiving permission from his superior.
"Very well, then just promise you will be vigilant."
"I don't think that's going to be a problem. I'll be sleeping with one eye open until this is over." Bethany gave her twin a hug and quick kiss to the cheek before leaving with her big brother. Garrett and Thrask shared a silent, knowing look as he left. Thrask would guard the younger man in his brother's place. No harm would come to him under his watch. Leaving the two Templars, Garrett was not eager to speak with the Knight Captain, but he did need that note.
He found him back in his usual spot in the courtyard. The Templar appeared to be deep in thought when Garrett approached him. The two men eyed each other warily before either said anything.
"Knight Captain Cullen," Garrett gave a small inclination of his head in respect of the man's rank. The Knight Captain was courteous enough to return it.
"Serah Hawke, or should I call you Champion now?"
"Hawke, please. Champion, it's a bloody awful title. Too pretentious for my tastes." To his relief, the Knight Captain actually smiled. His blue eyes crinkled a bit in amusement and suddenly he seemed a handful of years younger and more approachable. It put Garrett at ease and he too found himself smiling. "Ser Thrask said one of the dwarves had a note on them concerning the attack. Can I see it?" Cullen pulled out a small dirty scroll and gave it to him.
"Your brother was worried the Carta had come after you as well. I was just planning to send a message when you arrived. It seems there was a concerted effort to kill all of your family, any idea why?" Garrett considered lying to Cullen and telling him that he was as much in the dark as him. He wasn't sure much good could come of working with such a high ranking member of the order. Cullen seemed to be a decent fellow, but he did have a les mage friendly stance than Thrask and had voiced support of Meredith more than once. But, this was a matter beyond mages and Templars so he might put aside his beliefs if it meant there were more potential victims.
"I'm not certain they were here to kill us." The Knight Captain raised an eyebrow, "they were able to land a hit on Bethany, but lost interest in her once they saw her blood."
"What? Why would they care about blood? If they were humans, I might suspect blood magic, but not dwarves."
"I don't know, they kept screaming about the 'blood of the Hawke'. Though apparently they only want it if it's not be changed by any rituals or magic." Cullen looked faintly disturbed. The color drained form his face and he shuddered as memories of crazed blood mages and abominations returned.
"No good can come of this then. Blood magic can only be used to death and destruction. If you had seen the Tower in Ferelden, you'd agree." Garrett swallowed. Yes, he had heard of the horror Uldred and his minions had reeked before the Hero of Ferelden had stepped in. Had Anders not been imprisoned in the deepest part of the Tower, he might have suffered a similar fate.
"I heard what happened Cullen, and I swear to you that whatever these bastards are planning, I won't let them use my blood for anything. Enough people have died because of blood magic," in his mind, he could see his mother and the things that Quentin had done to her, "I won't let it continue. You have my word."
"Oddly enough, I believe you." Cullen said, the Knight Captain crossed his arms and straightened a bit, "you're a mage Serah, but I can't deny you've done good things for the people of Kirkwall. The Knight Commander might think it better if you were confined to the Gallows, but I am not so certain. It has put me in conflict with some of my beliefs, an apostate running free with a title and power, but you do not seem to have the same goals as a magister."
"I can promise you that I have no desire to be like a magister." Garrett's voice softed as he continued, "I too have seen the terrible things blood magic will do. What it did to those poor women and my mother." Cullen gave him a sympathetic look. The twisted abominations that Quentin had created were a lesson for Templars and mages. Too many had died before the man had been put down like a rabid dog. Templars, mages, and innocents, none had been safe from him.
"Yes, I suppose you know better than most. I am truly sorry for your loss. I never met her, but your brother always spoke so fondly of her that I can only imagine how kind and generous she was in person."
"Thank you. I'm afraid my sister and I need to return home, undoubtedly word has already spread through the city and I'd prefer if our better halves heard about it from us." Garrett could already see Anders panicking and putting together a search party. Anders would never let him leave the house again if he let him have his way. It was also a pretty good bet that Nate would try the same thing with Bethany. Thankfully he was wrapped tight around her little finger and could never deny her anything.
"I shall not keep you then. Happy hunting, serah."
.2.2.2
Anders and Nate were waiting for them when the two Hawkes came home. They had heard about the commotion in the market and had been getting ready to call on the city guard for help when Garrett and the twins walked through the door. Nate had been so relieved he'd dropped his bow and wrapped Bethany into a protective embrace.
"Maker," Nate said as he pulled back, "we heard that someone tried to ambush the Champion and his sister in the market, but we weren't sure if it was more than gossip."
"Garrett," Anders asked, "are you alright? Are your injuries…"
"Fine," Garrett huffed with some irritation. He did love the other mage, but sometimes he treated him as though he were made of glass rather than a full grown man. At times, it was rather sweet, but a few weeks of it left Garrett wanting nothing more than to hightail to Sundermont. "I'm fine, Anders. Just a bit dusty. The bastards were after our blood, they weren't interested in killing us."
"Your blood, not mine," Bethany interjected, "they said mine was tainted, so they went after you instead." She gave Nate a weak smile when he caught her arm and examined the gash, "looks like the Taint does have some use after all."
"Doesn't matter," Garrett said, still bristling with anger. He had retained his composure at the Gallows, not wanting to set of any Templars who might see an angry mage the same thing as a blood mage, "they still hurt you and tried to do the same to Carver. In my city, on my watch." Bethany and Anders tried to calm him down, but it only made him angrier. He didn't want to be calm and rational anymore, he had been playing that part all day. It was the role he always assumed and at the moment he was utterly sick of it. He stormed out of the house before anyone could stop him. He could feel the rage burning under his skin. It called for him to unleash his fury on the nearest living thing. Not wanting his family to take the brunt of his anger, he went out to find one of the numerous gangs that still prowled the darkened alleys.
It didn't take him long to find a group of the Followers of She. They were lurking around the Rose, hoping to ambush a few drunken merchants and pilfer their heavy pockets. Garrett dispatched them with a few fireballs and a burst of kinetic energy that sent several of the thieves flying. His anger had dissipated a bit, but there was something else in it's place. He wanted to hunt more of them down, make more of them bleed and hurt and…die? He dropped his staff as he grappled with the dark impulses.
He had never felt such blood lust in his life. Garrett was well versed in frustration and anger, but this was darker and much more savage.
"Hawke? Hawke, what's happened, you're covered in blood. Are you hurt my friend?" Garrett spun around to see Fenris. The elf must have been heading down to Lowtown for a pint at the Hanged Man when he heard the commotion. Garrett glanced down to see that his arms were indeed covered in blood. Not his own, he knew that, and it was splattered across his shirt and boots.
"Fenris," Garrett croaked, "somethings wrong with me. I…I can't stop it. The anger," his voice dropped below it's normal baritone and came out more as a hiss than words, "it's burning me. I can't stop, I want to find more of the bastards and rip their heads off. They hurt Bethany and Carver…I want to make them beg for mercy." To his credit, Fenris didn't flinch. His pale eyes narrowed as he glanced over the bodies scattered across the square.
"I see. We should go Hawke, it wouldn't be good for anyone to see you covered in blood." Fenris led Garrett back to the crumbling mansion he called home. He helped clean the blood and gore from Garrett's face and hands. The water in the shallow bowl had to be replaced twice before the last of the red splatter was gone. The tunic was beyond saving, being completely soaked and stinking of oxidized iron, so Garrett tossed it into the fireplace to destroy the evidence of his fight. A little mage fire reduced it to ashes in seconds. The physical evidence of so much death was gone, but Garrett could still feel the hot, wet dripping sensation of another's lifeblood on his hands. He had killed before, but there was always restraint and the chance of mercy in his previous fights. There had been none tonight.
"I'm not an angry man, Fenris." Garrett sat down at the table where he and Fenris had played so many rounds of cards and shared a number of wine bottles. Tonight though, no such frivolity was to be had.
"I know. But all men have some amount of anger in them." Fenris considered his friend before continuing, "this isn't just because someone attacked you and the twins." Garrett shook his head.
"No, that's part of it, but there is more. It's been like this since the duel with the Arishok. Most of the time, it's just a simmering feeling at the back of my mind and I can ignore it. It's as if there was a door in my head that got kicked open when I…when I used blood magic." Fenris stiffened, "I'm not possessed. But I don't feel…completely me either."
"Is there a way to prove there's no demonic influence?" Garrett shook his head. He could perhaps have a mage enter his dreams as he had done with Feynriel, but he didn't have nearly enough lyrium or any firsthand knowledge of conducting Dalish rituals.
"I don't know. I've been in the presence of demons before when I walked in the Fade and this doesn't feel like that." As a Harrowed mage, he was more sensitive to demons than others. He could sometimes sense them when he dreamed. The demons usually stayed away from him, but sometimes they would creep around the fringes of his dreams as if they were unable to get closer. He never questioned why, only thanked the Maker that his sleep was undisturbed. Fenris said nothing, just stood up and left the room. He returned a few minutes later with a dusty wine bottle and a pair of glasses. Using a knife, he uncorked the wine and filled each glass to the brim.
"I think we could both use a drink, my friend." They clinked the glasses together and drank. Hawke found the wine to be a bit sweet for his preferences as it had a chocolate after taste. Fenris had fondness for sweets, so it was no surprise he liked the sweeter wines of Tevinter and Antiva. Garrett would rather a mug of dark ale as he was a Ferelden philistine, but alcohol was alcohol.
"Yes," Garrett drained his glass to the last drop, "I needed that, thank you." Fenris tried to pour him a second glass, but declined. "Walking through Hightown shirtless is one thing, but shirtless and drunk would probably not go over to well with guards."
"Hmm, you have a point." Fenris set his glass down, "Perhaps you should return home, no doubt your sister and the mage are worried about you."
"The mage has a name Fenris," Garrett rolled his eyes, "and do I need to remind you that I'm also a mage?" Fenris and Anders did not get along most of the time, except when Garrett's life was at stake. Fenris had made it clear in prior conversations that he didn't think Anders was good enough for Garrett. Fenris was convinced it could only end in heartbreak, the other mage had already done it once to him and with no Tower walls around them, what was there to stop him from simply moving on? Garrett had put his foot down after that and there was no more discussion of the topic. It didn't stop Fenris from making nasty comments about the other mage, but at least he had ceased his talk of Anders' eventual abandonment.
"You're an exception. You're not like the other mages, you've never used your power to advance yourself." It was true, Garrett had not used his power to advance his position, only the work of his hands and character.
"I've seen what happens when one abuses their power. It's not pretty." Garrett felt a wave of revulsion when he thought of Uldred and his failed rebellion, of Leandra and Quentin's desecration. "I pray that I never have to see it again."
"Maker willing, neither of us will." Fenris set the empty wine bottle aside and stood up to lay a hand on Garrett's bare shoulder, "I am here for you, my friend. I will help you fight whatever it is that tries to force your hand."
"You have my thanks," Garrett laid a hand on top of Fenris', "I don't know what will come of it, but it comforting to know I have friends who will help me along the way."
"I am ever at your side," Fenris gave him a warm look, his usual serious face softened, "all you need do is ask."
.3
The house was quiet when he returned. His mabari was sleeping in front of the fireplace in the entry hall. It awoke briefly when he entered and walked over to give him a snuffly wet kiss before laying back down on the plush pillow Orana had set aside for it once Anders had started sharing his bed. He scratched behind it's ears and climbed the stairs to his bedroom. The door was cracked open and he could see that there was still a few candles lit. Anders was asleep, but had kept the sheets pulled back for him. Garrett quietly shut the door and walked over to the bed. He stripped off his remaining clothes and laid down on his side of the large bed. He rolled onto his side to face the slumbering mage beside him. Anders' face was slackened in sleep with his mouth slightly open and eyes twitching beneath closed lids as he dreamed.
He brushed aside a few stray blonde hairs to tuck them behind his ear, causing Anders to blink awake. His brow creased and then relaxed when he saw who was lying next to him.
"Hello," Garrett said, feeling guilty he had caused Anders to worry.
"Hello, sweetheart." Anders reached up and stroked along his cheekbone. "Are you alright?"
"I'm better. I'm sorry if I worried you." Anders gave him a kiss and maneuvered him so that he could wrap an arm around his shoulder and draped a leg over Garrett's hip. Garrett looped an arm around the other's ribs and tucked his head against the hollow of Ander's neck. When they lay together like this, Garrett could let go of his protector role for a bit. Having taken up the role of patriarch after Malcolm's death, it was rare for Garrett to let someone else take care of him. Generally, he would get annoyed by anyone trying to fuss over him, but as with most things, Anders proved an exception. At that moment, he didn't mind his Warden trying to shield him from all the bad things that waited just outside their room.
"What's going on, love? Somethings bothering you and it's not the Carta." Anders stroked the thick black hair at the nape of Garrett's neck and sent a subtle pulse of healing magic to sooth the other mage. He could feel it working when tension began seeping away and Garrett's arm loosed.
"I don't like not being able to protect the people I love. Beth and Carver both got hurt and I don't know why the Carta came after us. It has something to do with our father and his blood, but beyond that I have no idea." Garrett let out a small puff of air against Anders' chest and told him about the note Cullen had found on one of the bodies. It had instructed the Carta to capture the children of Malcolm Hawke and not to waste their precious blood. Blood, it said, was the key. "I can handle people threatening and attacking me, but when it's the twins, or you… I just get so angry." Garrett's hand tightened into a fist against Anders' back. He could feel the other mage beginning to shake with the force of his emotions. "I've been angry before, but not like this. It's been worse since the duel with the Arishok."
"Since you used blood magic?" Anders asked, also feeling some of the same tension building inside. Garrett didn't say anything, just nodded against his chest. Anders let out a choking sound and tightened his hold around Garrett until the other mage was certain his ribs were going to crack again. Anders had been dreading something like this. He had seen flashes of something not quite in character with Garrett for almost two weeks. The night he had told him about the maps, it had been like someone else had taken control for a brief moment before Garett was himself once more. He had tried to blame it on his own actions and the stress of recent events, but it hadn't felt right. Now, he began to understand. Garrett was dealing with the after effects of using a forbidden form of magic.
Blood magic was fueled by a mage's darker emotions, anger, hate, greed, lust, and despair. It was also notoriously addictive. Many a good mage had been undone by such an addiction. They would try to stop, but the darkness had managed to get a claw into them and it became an unbearable itch they had to scratch. Garrett had been acting in desperation and fury when he had tapped into that source of power. It had saved his life, but opened a doorway to something terrible. A demon? No, if he were indeed possessed the two other mages in the house would have sensed it by now. The open door could attract unwanted attention, but Garrett was still in control of his own mind for the moment. "Maker," he whispered against the top of Garrett's head, "I'll fix this, I'm a healer, damnit. I should know how to fix this."
"This isn't your fault, it's mine. I messed up and I'll fix it." Garrett leaned his head back so they could look each other in the eyes, "we'll get through this. I can do this if I have you by my side."
"You do, you always do." Anders rolled on his back, taking Garrett with him so that he ended up laying on top of him. He spread his legs so Garrett could lie comfortably between them and tugged him down for kiss. He stroked the back of Garrett's neck with one hand as he ran the other up and down the mage's right flank, reveling in the firm skin instead of bandages. Garrett cupped Anders' face with both hands as they kissed slowly, taking time to enjoy the sensation of shared breath and tongues sliding together with practiced ease. When the blonde tipped his head back to expose his long, pale throat. Garrett bit down slightly on the adam's apple, not hard enough to leave marks, but just enough that the edge of teeth against the skin. He nuzzled his neck, knowing how much Anders loved the feel of his beard. Garrett rolled his hips against Anders', their firm flesh pressing and sliding together as both began panting with arousal. Long legs wrapped around Garrett's waist and pulled him close. "Maker, you feel good," he raked his nails down Garrett's back when the other mage reached between them and took them both in hand. It was a bit rough with the dry skin as he stroked them together, but it seemed to be what both needed at that moment. Garrett gazed down into amber orbs that were blown wide, the pupil nearly taking the entire eye.
"Roll over love," Garrett's voice had dropped half an octave. Anders felt something inside tighten with anticipation when he heard that husky voice. He rolled onto his stomach and peered over his shoulder as Garrett straddled his thighs and pressed himself against his back. The dark haired mage was shorter, but his broader frame and dense muscle mass made him heavy. He kept most of his weight off Anders, but let his chest press against his back as his arms bracketed his sides.
Garrett nipped the top of Anders' left ear playfully before kissing him again. The angle was a bit awkward, but the feel of being covered by a strong, warm body made it nice. The slight rasp of Garret's chest hair rubbed against his upper back as the dark haired mage moved against him. Garrett buried his nose in golden red hair and inhaled the scent of elfroot and soap before leaving a trail of open mouth kisses against the back of Anders' neck. "Maker," he let out a breath against the dip between his shoulders, "I love you, my gorgeous healer." He ran both hands down Ander's sides, causing the muscles to spasm and twitch as he hit a few of the blonde's more ticklish spots. He moved to kneel between the other mage's legs and nudged them a bit further apart with his knees. Garrett leaned down to kiss the small of Anders' back right above the curve of his ass.
"Garrett," Anders moaned as his legs were pushed wider apart. "What are you…"
"Shh," Garrett moved up to kiss a trembling shoulder blade, "you've taken care of me so well these last few weeks, let me do the same." He rubbed his bearded chin against Anders neck one more time before crawling back down his body. He spread the two firm globes of his lover's backside to reveal the small furled opening between them. He ran the tip of a finger over the ring of muscle, eliciting more moans from the blonde. He repeated this action twice more before replacing his finger with his tongue.
"Andraste's flaming knickers." Garrett chuckled and laid a hand down on the blonde's lower back to keep him in place before once more giving the twitching muscles a swipe with the flat of his tongue. Slowly, he could feel the muscles relaxing under his ministrations. He hadn't tried preparing his lover in this manner, but the noises it brought out were more than enough for Garrett to consider using it again in the future.
He sat back and grabbed a small pot of oil from the nightstand. He liberally coated a finger and reached down to cup the blonde's balls as he ran a thumb over his anus. He gently fondled them before running a finger up his perineum and slowly working the tip in. The muscles were already loosened a bit, allowing his finger to slide in with minimal resistance. "Garrett, yes," Anders rocked his hips back to move with the finger moving inside him. "More, please, now." Garrett slowly worked in a second and then a third. When he curled his fingers he hit the bundle of nerves that set off a burst of sparks behind Anders' eyes as a jolt of pleasure travelled up and down his spine. Garrett rubbed the spot again, drawing a heavy whimper from the blonde's lips. "Need you, please, please," Anders babbled underneath him as Garrett withdrew his fingers and grabbed the pot to coat his own aching member. He gripped Anders' hips and got him up on his hands and knees. He reached between the older mage's trembling thighs and gave his neglected cock a couple firm strokes before positioning himself and pushing in.
"Oh, sweet Maker," Garrett gasped out as he bottomed out. The heat of his lover's tight body nearly undid him right there. Anders inner muscles contracted and tightened around him as he adjusted to the member impaling him. Garrett leaned forward to rest his chest against Anders' sweat soaked back. He wrapped an arm tight around Anders' heaving frame and slowly started to move in and out. "You feel amazing," Garrett panted against the blonde's neck, biting down on his shoulder. With a small change in the angle of his hips, he found his lover's sweet spot.
"There, yes," Anders' back arched sharply under Garrett as he found it again, nearly tossing the other mage of him. Garrett had to readjust his grip on the on the blonde, tightening his arm as he began speeding his thrusts. "Harder," Garrett growled low in his throat as he pushed Anders' legs a bit further apart and began moving faster and deeper. He could feel a trickle of sweat dripping down the back of his neck from his exertions, his whole body felt on fire with need. He reached down and began pulling at his lover's cock in time with his thrusts, bringing him to his peak with a few twists of his wrists and thumb rubbing over the slit. His body stiffened and tightened around Garrett to a near painful squeeze and with a few last jerky thrusts he spilled himself inside the blonde.
Keeping his arm around Anders, he laid him on his side with Garrett still in him. Garrett knew they should clean up, but didn't want to separate just yet. He ran a possessive hand across Anders' side as he pressed warm, chaste kisses to the back of his neck. "I love you, mageling. Love you so much." Anders felt a pleased rumble from Garrett's chest reverberating against his back. It was almost a purr. He smiled as he reached back to stroke the sweat soaked mane so close to his ear.
"Love you too. Forever." Garrett gave a groan as he felt himself slip from his lover's body. He grabbed a rag from the table beside the bed to clean them up. Anders hissed as the cloth brushed against tender skin. Garrett apologized with a tender kiss to his temple. Garrett tossed the cloth aside once he was done and rolled onto his side. Anders came up to spoon him, wrapping a tired arm around Garrett's waist. The younger mage took his hand and entwined it with his own, placing it just over his heart.
"Rest love, I'll be here when you wake tomorrow." Garrett's eyes slid shut as he felt one last kiss against the base of his skull. He tried to mumble a thanks, but it turned into a snore before the first syllable passed his lips.