24: Cinnamon Kisses

Over the past two years, Beau had spent more time than she would ever admit wondering what it would be like to be kissed by Anders. She had wondered what his hands would feel like on her body. She hadn't been celibate, she hadn't been out whoring and falling into bed with everyone who gave her that look either, but every now and then, she had sought out a tumble. Something to ease those lonely nights, to ease the ache her wonderings tended to leave her with.

There was no wondering now. He was kissing her, she was still pinned between him and the wall, her legs now wrapped around his waist, while returning the kiss feverishly. He tasted a bit like the small amount of ale he had consumed earlier along with something a hint sweet, she couldn't place it, but it was warm and maybe a bit tingly. Years of pent-up desire and longing were in his kisses, in her own, and she was afraid she might not ever stop trembling, she was afraid these low tide currents of electricity rolling throughout her would never stop either. "Anders…"

"For years, I've spent every night," his voice was harsh, low, breathy, and she could feel his hot breaths puffing against her jawline. "Aching for you." He was aching now, the thin breeches doing nothing to hide just how much he desired her and she was wearing a pair of those fancy yet impractical ones of her own. Gifts and concessions from Leandra, silk and fancy, but there was no doubt she couldn't feel him rubbing against her.

She could, her own hips were tilting into him, grinding against him. "Same," it was a harsh pant, it had been months since her last tryst and none of them compared to just the feeling of 'what if' that was raging through her. While gripping his hair had been pleasant and something she had longed to do for a long time, her hands were moving elsewhere. This shirt of his needed to go and it was only his brief movement, momentarily pulling away from her, that allowed her to snake her palms up beneath the hem until she felt warm flesh. Goosebumps, he had goosebumps, and that brought a smile to her slightly swollen lips. "I want you."

"Maker, I want you too." It was a pained moan, feeling her nails raking gently down his chest beneath his shirt. Justice did not approve, did not approve of his obsession with Isabeau, but this was one thing he and Justice would have to agree to disagree on because Anders would not give her up. He had spent so much time trying to keep space between them, to not fall in love with her, and it had been a lost cause, one he was okay losing too. He let her down though, peeling himself off of her. Stepping away, he began tugging off his top, revealing a broad expanse of pale, sinewy skin. He was no warrior but he wasn't a slouch either and it showed, he was pleased when her luminous green eyes devoured him, a slow smile curving his lips. "If we go down this route, there's no turning back, Beau." One last time, one last attempt to stop this before they took that plunge. He wasn't lying either because if she did this, if she went down this road with him, there was no turning back, it was all or nothing and would be until the day he died. "Once we're started this path, I'll never be able to turn back."

I would drown us in blood to keep you safe.

She believed it, believed him, and knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was destined for this, for him, come good or ill and she also knew, deep down, that there would be a lot of ill in the coming years. "I love you, Anders," she whispered, knowing she had generally worn her heart on her sleeve when it came to him and now she was offering it, showing her vulnerability, and giving it to him.

The words had barely left her when he was on her again, this kiss more passionate, than the last. There was love in there, desire, and desperation, it was almost painful and she finally realized what it was he tasted of.

He wasn't in bed with her when she woke up the following morning. Beau sort of expected him to be halfway back to Ferelden by now, remembering how he had fretted so often about hurting her. She slowly sat up, drawing the thin blanket to her bare chest and a gentle twinge reminded her that he had spent a lot of time on her breasts, his facial hair had rubbed her skin. She smiled and brought her fingertips up to one of the spots. "Anders?"

"One moment, sweetheart."

Relief filled her, followed by a healthy dose of shame, she should have trusted him. Brushing sleep from her eyes, she swung her legs around until bare toes touched the dirt floor and her drowsy smile widened when he slipped back through the partitions. He was properly dressed, freshly shaven and his hair pulled back in its customary half-up, half-down manner. "Good morning."

"Good morning," he crouched down before her, reaching out when the blanket dropped to press his palm against the stubble burns he had left behind.

"Don't, don't heal it," because it wasn't exactly a nagging injury or deadly wound and also, she liked the reminder that he was hers, finally hers, in all ways.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," her hand was over his now, squeezing gently before bending down to brush her lips against his. Green orbs fastened with warm brown, seeing what looked almost like specks of gold in them. "I thought you might be gone."

He looked equal parts amused, ashamed and hurt, a weird combination. "I did consider it…" he admitted finally, which was where the shame came into play. "But… as I said last night, there is no turning back, and even if I really thought I could, be selfless and put you first, I can't… I'm a selfish man when it comes to you Beau and I want you, all of you, for as long as you'll have me."

"Forever is a very long time, Anders."

His smiled turned sad and he gestured her to scoot over, joining her in perching on the side of the bed. When he raised his arm, he felt warmth coursing through him when she immediately tucked herself into his side, both loving and hating how right this felt, how good it felt. "If only we had forever, love," he murmured, letting his head rest on top of hers. "But I don't think forever would be enough."

He'd be lucky to have another fifteen, maybe even twenty years with her, thanks to the taint that coursed through his veins, never mind the fact that he was more likely to die sooner from other causes. But that wasn't something to spring on her right now, not after they had finally come together. No. He wasn't doing it, spending their first day properly together drowning in misery because now he knew ten, twenty, a hundred years, none of it would be enough. He'd have to take it day by day and revel in that love as long as he had it. Forcing those thoughts aside, he shifted enough to capture her chin, then her lips.

Cinnamon. He tasted like cinnamon.