Ok everyone, thank you again for all the wonderful support! I think we're maybe about halfway through with this one. I'm not sure if it'll take me somewhere I wasn't expecting, but it's definitely not over yet.
I got a wonderful new piece of fanart from Cheese! I posted the link up on my profile, so go check it out.
And finally, Normanee (under fav authors) just started a new fic that is so fantastic that I don't even mind that it's het. So, if you're in the mood for something Janders and a little dark, go support her!
"Let it be known that the only thing I like about you being a Grey Warden is your stamina," the warrior said, pushing the mage back hard against the pillar.
Anders let out a sound as the air was knocked form his lungs. The other man ravaged his lips with his own, and he struggled to breathe through his nose. Hawke was naturally a bit heavier than the mage, but his massive plate armor added quite a bit. The blonde struggled below him in body and mind, loving the power pressed over him yet fearing he'd never take another breath. But the warrior could feel the subtle movements and hear the soft whimpers being whined between kisses, and he realized he was crushing the other man.
"Fuck, sorry, Anders," he apologized as he pushed himself away from his lover. "You don't know what you do to me."
The mage just smiled as he recovered and watched, mesmerized as the other man started to remove the bulkier pieces of his armor which would hinder him from performing the task at hand – the pauldrons, breast plate, back plate, chainmail skirt, and cuisse. The remaining pieces stayed on his body, as did his underclothes, revealing far less skin than the blonde would like. He, still stripped from waist to ankle, felt the need aching in his loins, and he silently cursed the other man for leaving so much to the imagination.
Hawke moved back close to the other man, kissing him once roughly and gripping onto his firm shaft. "You want me to fuck you up against this pillar? Keep everything out of your mind until it's only me and you and these dusty roads?"
Anders whimpered and moaned under the warrior's touch. "Sweet Maker, yes."
Hawke let go of him and worked to unlace the ties of his trousers. He pulled them down just enough along with his smalls to allow his length to spring free. Placing his hands on both of the mage's shoulders, he pressed down just enough for the mage to feel a slight pressure beneath the feathered pauldrons. He was putty in the other man's hands, and he instinctively slid down to his knees. With his right hand, he took hold of his lover's erection and dove right in, lips and tongue sliding expertly over the veiny flesh.
The warrior groaned, thrusting forward to push himself deeper into Anders' mouth. "Yeah, good boy; just like that. Make it nice and wet so I can fuck you." He grunted as he felt this tip of his length hit the back of the other man's throat, and he leaned forward to support himself against the stone column just behind the other man. The mage groaned around the flesh in his mouth, the taste and scent of his lover – sweat, musk, and pure masculinity – causing his stomach to flutter. He always felt his best like this, pleasing his man and being filled by him in some way, and his mind was nearly clear of absolutely everything. There was nothing else but a primal, animalistic need for sex.
Lips tore away from flesh as Hawke gripped his fingers into the mage's golden locks and yanked his head back. Their eyes met each other, and not a word needed to be said. There was hunger, desire, and Anders hardly had the chance to push himself up off of his knees and to his feet before he felt his back connecting to the stone once more. He spread his legs, and gasped as roughened hands grabbed onto the cheeks of his arse. The mage reached between them, finding the slickened length of his lover and guided it back towards his exposed entrance. The leaking tip pressed against him, and he tried to push himself down onto it, but the warrior held him firmly in place.
"I don't care what the voices in your head say," Hawke declared. "You're mine, and they don't get to consume you."
Anders stared at him, alarmed by the conflicting look of both confidence and sadness in his lover's blue eyes. He'd never be able to give himself up to this man completely, and both of them knew it. As much as Hawke admitted that he was fine with it, that he would completely support the mage in whatever he did, he would do this on occasion and use a command as more of a plea. It never went anywhere, and it was never discussed any further. But it wasn't fair to him, Anders knew; the warrior gave him every ounce of himself, and that was just something he would never be able to return. But he still gave him everything he could, and that was undoubtedly one of the many reasons he felt so right submitting to his lover once the doors were closed. And he would do that for as long as he could until he had no choice but to hurt him.
"I was yours the moment you walked into my clinic asking for those maps," the mage offered, however true it was or wasn't. Both of them knew though neither of them corrected it.
Hawke bucked his hips upward, mercilessly sending his length inside of the other man until it was mostly sheathed by his flesh. Anders cried out in pain, in pleasure, as he hung onto the sleeves of his lover's shirt. Teeth marred the skin of his flesh and the wetness of lips and tongue soothed as they worked together, writhing and thrusting.
"Mine," the warrior murmured against Anders' lips between grunts and groans. It was quiet, but it was angry, stern. He bit and sucked on his lower lip and dug his fingernails into the mounds of flesh that he was still holding tightly onto. He marked the skin, desperate to claim the other man in any way that he could. Anders moaned his name and cried out as he felt more of the other man's weight thrown against him, trapping his erection between them. The friction caused by their movements and the varying textures of the cloth and straps against the sensitive skin sent the mage bucking his hips in pleasure.
"Say it, Anders. Say it and let it be true this time," he insisted, the anger in his voice being washed away.
The mage was so hurt, so pained that he couldn't utter a word between his attempts to muffle moans. The warrior tightened his grasp on the other man and lifted him up until his boots no longer made contact with the road below. The mage, though completely supported by stone and muscle, wrapped his legs around his lover's waist to feel more secure. And still, he did not answer and merely rest his head in the crook of his neck.
"Please," Hawke muttered, this time a more of a whine, a plea no longer masked by his normal strength and confidence. "Please just need me like I need you. Don't ever leave me."
And at that very moment, the mage's heart broke. The man holding him up, still deep inside him and barely moving, had finally torn down the fortress of humor and cockiness that he readily hid behind. No, he thought. I broke it, Justice broke it, and the taint broke it. He slid his hands up from the warrior's arms and up to hold onto each side of his head. They fixed their gazes onto each other, and the mage couldn't recall seeing that look in Hawke's eyes since his mother had died. He leaned in to kiss him and pulled back just enough to speak. "I do need you, Archer. And that's why I'm here; I'm selfish. A kinder man wouldn't put you through what I have done or undoubtedly will do." He didn't know where his quest for mage freedom would take him yet, but he always knew it could only end it heartache. "But, I swear to you, this ending will not be because I want it to. I will stand by you until you choose otherwise or until I am called to my death."
The warrior thrust into the other man as hard as he could, groans covering up the cracking in his throat that threatened to reveal themselves as cries of pain and frustration. "My world only exists if you're in it," he finally managed to admit. We're either together in life or in death, never apart. I'll support you in anything you'll do. Just be mine. Please."
"Then I'm yours, Archer Hawke," he said, believing it more now than he ever had when uttering those words before. Their lips crashed together in hunger, need, pain, and love, and their movements together picked up to find a steady rhythm that was far more gentle than their usual pace. Anders finally felt some peace, not in the way he imagined by distraction, but by knowing that he would never be alone in any of this, regardless of how fair it was or not. He was held there between a pillar of stone and a pillar of strength, and that was all the comfort he could possibly need.