fadewalk | RP: Anders (serhealsalot

Logan let himself be pulled into the room after a cursory glance seemed to confirm it was unoccupied. It seemed, to his eye, to be decorated in a Marcher style, not overly lavish but not really plain either. The bed, a sturdy looking construction of dark wood hung with crimson and gold trappings, was at least a queen if not a king, and jutted out kitty-corner into the center of the room. A window looked out over the Skyhold grounds, and there was a small seating area with a low couch and a chair just in and to the right of the door. A pair of wardrobes took up one wall. Everything was a little too done up in shades of red for Logan's tastes, but it wasn't horrendous.

"This is nice," he told Anders, eying the map of the Free Marches which hung over the couch. There was a vaguely citrus-y scent hiding under an unused, dusty smell.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Anders lay back easily under the gentle press of Logan's hand, sighing into the kiss as he smoothed his hands over Logan's shoulders and down his sides to pull him closer still. "I'm pretty sure if I was reading your mind, I'd stop being surprised by how much you seem to like me." He lifted his head, kissing along Logan's collarbone.

"But I'm so glad that you do." He nipped lightly at the curve of the freckled, warm skin over his shoulder. "Like me that much. I mean."

Logan braced himself with his forearm next to Anders' head, now rucking up Anders' undershirt to brush his fingers over more of his skin. He sighed softly as Anders kissed along his collarbone. "I have half a mind to have a talk with whoever you've had in your life giving you this absolutely absurd idea about people not wanting to be with you. They should all be falling over themselves to get in line." He turned his head and caught Anders' lips with his own, a light, teasing brush before he was pulling back again.

The kiss caught Anders breath as well as his lips, and when Logan pulled away he watched him for a moment. "You going to vet my queue of hypothetical potential suitors, Logan?" His lips quirked, teasing and wry.

He didn't know how to explain how so many of his past relationships had been little more than hookups, a few longer friends-with-benefits situations, and the occasional date-friend that fizzled into just being friends.

Logan wrinkled his nose at him. "I'm just saying, I think your comment from before, about people having to be stupid not to want to be with me, I think the same thing about you. So."

He inched up Anders' shirt enough so almost all of his lower stomach was exposed and bent to plant kisses over his far hipbone, just below his navel. "But then I fell violently in love with you just from chatting with you in a video game and listening to your voice, so the idea of not throwing myself in your arms -" he paused, brow furrowing, fingers which had drifted over to card through the hair on Anders' chest slowing. "Scooping you up in my arms? That sounds safer. Anyways. A very short time after meeting you had we meet in real life first, is a bit beyond my comprehension." He shrugged, giving a lopsided smile.

"Are you saying I couldn't catch you if you threw yourself at me?" Anders let out a breathy laugh, trying to sound offended but mostly just delighted by the brush of Logan's lips and fingers. He let his eyes drift shut as he arched his back. "I mean you're probably right. But I'd try."

He reached down to run his hand over Logan's hair. "And it wasn't that people haven't wanted me. At least at first. They just don't stay." His voice trailedoff and he shrugged before opening his eyes and looking down at Logan.

"I think the fact that you would try would probably be where the problem would lie, love." Logan chuckled, an image of Anders trying very hard to catch him and still ending up rather crushed in his head. He kissed Anders' stomach again and then set his chin on it, his hand running idly up Anders' side.

When Anders opened his eyes, Logan was giving him considering look, blue eyes soft and a little sad. It wouldn't do to make promises about how he wasn't going to leave, not in response to that, even if Logan literally could not conceive of ever letting Anders go, because all the rest had probably said the same thing at first. He licked his lips and shook his head disapprovingly, clicking his tongue. "Well, more for me, then." He smirked, a tiny thing, and then he was sliding up Anders' body and tangling a hand in his hair and kissing him passionately because for a second he felt like he would burst if he didn't kiss him immediately.

Anders was surprised at how relieved he felt when Logan didn't make wild promises of never leaving. He didn't need those kinds of protestations and declarations. Because people always left, one way or the other. Sometimes they just died and there was nothing you could do. But if Logan didn't make promises he wouldn't have to worry about how much he'd hate him later, when he broke them.

He gasped into the sudden passion of the kiss, mouth opening under Logan's, inviting and warm. He hooked his leg, still clad in those ridiculously tight leggings over his hip and squeezed him. At a break in the kiss he whispered, "All for you, Logan," and then turned his mouth back to his.

Logan's breath hitched when Anders spoke. He shifted with the squeeze of Anders' leg, pressing closer, his hand roaming up to rest lightly at the juncture of Anders' neck and shoulder. His mouth was open under Anders', eager as he responded and licked and teased. "You shouldn't - ah - be allowed to say such things to me," he groaned between kisses, the fingers of his other hand tightening in Anders' hair.

Anders shivered and whimpered softly at the tight grip on his hair, eyes fluttering in pleasure at how anchored he felt with Logan pressing him down, fingers holding his head still. He nipped softly at his lower lip and grinned. "I shouldn't? Who's going to stop me?" He arched in a sinuous wave, squeezing with his leg while rocking his hips up. "Because I'm pretty sure you're enjoying the fact I'm here, all warm and clean and pliant, spread out under you."

One of his hands stole to the side of Logan's face, a tender cup of his cheek, while his eyes darkened, deepened, and his voice turned a little breathy. "All for you."

Logan shuddered and rolled his hips against him, pretty sure the wording there, while undeniably hot, was worthy of teasing. Except Anders was arching up against him while they were pressed so close and god, his voice. As per usual, it was doing things to him, namely driving Logan out of conscious thought and into a panting, whining mess, all warm skin and need.

And then Anders' hand was on his face and his gorgeous eyes were on his eyes and he was saying that, again, and Logan gasped and rutted against him shamelessly, suddenly far, far closer to the edge than he would have expected. "Fuck," he breathed, burying his face against Anders' neck. "Fuck."

Anders purred at that reaction, a throaty moan that seemed to originate in his slender chest. He nodded against Logan's hair, grinding up against him and then whispered, "God, Logan, we need to be naked. If I come in these pants I have no idea how I'll get them clean. And that is going to happen if you don't take them off." He was speaking in a low voice, intonation making it sound like something he wouldn't mind at all, tone filthy with desire.

Logan whimpered into the curve of Anders' throat, hips rolling at an unsteady, stuttering pace he couldn't seem to quite control.
He took a deep breath, nodding against Anders' skin to show that he'd heard, and yes, really rather agreed, but that meant moving, which sounded terrible. Anders' tone wasn't helping. With a huff that quickly devolved into a whine, he braced himself up with one hand and reluctantly sort of peeled his upper body off of Anders, reaching down to hook his thumb in the waistband of his pants with one hand and shimmy out of them. Without really moving off of Anders' lower half.

Anders helped Logan out of his pants, once they were pushed past his hips he used his feet to scrape them further down until Logan could kick them off, then the same treatment for his smalls. With the larger man pushed off of him he also squirmed out of his undershirt, tossing it off the bed without much care where it would land.

His hands moved down to unlace the leggings but got distracted by the warm skin of Logan's stomach and then the flushed head of his cock, the pads of his fingers brushing over it as he hummed.

"Anders," Logan groaned, voice rough and strained. "I'm not going to be able to help peel you out of anything if you keep doing that." He shifted, putting more of his weight on his side and sliding partially off of Anders. "And that's - hardly fair." He ran a hand over the skin of Anders' lower stomach just lightly enough to be teasing and then reached for the ties of the leggings himself. When it came to peeling them off, though, he had to slide down the bed to tug them down Anders' thighs and over his calves, finally succeeding in getting them to a point where Anders could just kick them off. He ran his hands back up Anders' thighs and reached for the smallclothes.

"Fair? Who's counting fair? With you looking like that?" Anders hands ran up Logan's shoulders as he slid away, and then lifted his hips in a lean arch so that he could tug the leggings down. When Logan's hand returned for the smalls he repeated the gesture, the muscles in his abdomen flexing as he bucked against the hands working the laces, where his own erection was straining.

He muttered something in a different language, the consonants glottal. His pupils were blown when he looked down his body at Logan, just a thin rim of gold of the irises remaining. "Please, Logan."

"Fuck," Logan muttered, fumbling with the laces as Anders bucked against his fingers, his eyes caught on the play of muscles in Anders' abdomen. And then Anders was saying something in some other language entirely and Logan didn't have much conscious brain left to wonder what that was about because then he was grinding against Anders' hip and shoving his smalls down the rest of the way, all his breath caught in his throat. "Oh god." He shuddered, wondered if he could make Anders do that again. He was so on edge, he wouldn't have been surprised if he could come from the sound of Anders' voice alone.

He wet his lips at Anders' plea and managed a "Shh, love," and then he was abruptly shifting and placing himself between Anders's thighs. He bent his head and licked a broad swathe up the underside of Anders' cock.

There was a moment of struggle as Anders kicked one of his lanky legs free of his smalls, but it made room for Logan between his legs and that was a brilliant outcome as far as he was concerned. The sudden, stunning wet heat of Logan's tongue on his cock made him keen and grip the bedding on either side of his hips, knuckles white as his fingers knotted in the cloth. "Fuck," he muttered, before he was breathing more of those lilting, foreign words.

His stomach muscles were twitching, his balls already drawing up, so close from just that one long lick that he was going to embarrass himself. The extended kissing and touching, the up and down of their bath, just the extended proximity, all of it had him so keyed up. That with the fatigue, the interrupted sleep of earlier, had him muttering in his first language, his mother's family's native tongue, he realized suddenly. He bit his lip, trying to stop the nonsense, the broken phrases mixed with normal speech, pleas and prayers.

He hadn't done that in a long time, but he was so gone for Logan, he wasn't sure how well he could corral any of his responses.

Logan was grinning positively smugly when Anders started speaking again. He tongued lightly at the slit of Anders' cock, swirled his tongue around the head, but then Anders was biting his lip and holding back and Logan pulled away, giving him a tiny frown. "Anders. I want to hear you, love." He bent closer again, warm breath wafting against Anders' skin, touched his tongue lightly just below the head once and then waited, his hands rubbing up and down Anders' thighs.

Anders whimpered when Logan pulled away and gave a tight, embarrassed laugh at the gentle chastisement. "I don't even know what I'm saying, Logan. You're driving me crazy." His thighs were trembling with the effort of not pressing up against Logan's mouth. "And I know you don't know what I'm saying."

He wet his lips, then gave another shaky laugh, before murmuring, throaty and low, "Gjörðu svo vel, snerta mig," in a tone that could only be shameless begging, as he rolled his hips ever so slightly and his cock twitched toward his stomach.

Logan smirked, one corner of his mouth higher than the other. "The point is that you're sayin' it, darlin'," he drawled, the nonchalance of the statement undone by the rasp in his voice.

When Anders begged, he shifted forward slightly, anchoring Anders' hips to the bed with one big hand and gripping the base of his shaft with the other, and swallowed him down, slowly, bobbing slightly to take more of him with each movement until his mouth met his fist. He hummed at the noises Anders was making, more of a moan really when Anders fell back into babbling. He tongued the underside of the shaft, pulling back more than he had yet and this time when he bobbed back down he twisted his wrist and stroked up as well. His eyes flicked up to Anders.

The way Logan's mouth worked him, his hand anchoring him the only thing that kept him from bucking and writhing, Anders was a wreck by the time he was bobbing along his full length, hand stroking as well. He'd released one hand from its deathgrip on the blanket and had it fisted in his hair, the sharp line of his adam's apple visible on the arched line of his throat, head thrown back.

He was speaking absolute nonsense, the two languages mixed in a stuttering tangle, the pleading, desperate notes rising higher. His eyes snapped open and he raised his head to meet Logan's gaze. "Love, love I can't. You're... I'm going to. Ó Guð minn góður. Please." It ended in a keen, tendons in his throat sharp as he strained to hold back his orgasm.

Logan groaned around him. Between the way Anders had thrown his head back, the way he writhed beneath him, and the words coming out of his mouth in both languages, it was a wonder he was able to keep ahold of himself. His hips rocked against the sheets, seeking some kind of friction futilely, and then Anders raised his head and met his eyes and Logan swirled his tongue one more time and breathed deeply and swallowed Anders down as far as he could. He loosened his grip on the base of the shaft and pumped a few more times, blue eyes locked on Anders' golden ones.

That seemed like an invitation, encouragement, permission? Anders wasn't sure, but he couldn't hold back, the slick wet heat of Logan's mouth on his cock, the strong, calloused fingers gripping him and stroking and it was like he was being pulled inside out from the bottoms of his feet in the best way.

The string of nonsense that he'd been muttering cut off in just a litany of Logan's name, "Logan, oh fuck, Logan, yeah, yeah, Logan!" until he was coming, body curved up off the bed toward him at first, all his muscles contracting together, and then falling back and arching the opposite direction, eyes black and blown as he kept them locked with Logan's.

There was nothing like this, nothing like the connection, the safety he felt to just feel with Logan, and he was a twitching, whimpering mess.

Logan was making obscene, wet noises as he swallowed. He eased off with a soft moan, brushed the line of spit gleaming from his mouth to Anders' cock away with the back of a hand and licked his lips as he sat up. He couldn't remember any blow job he'd given that was quite so intense, between the eye contact and the noises they had both been making, and god, that he could drive Anders to such a mess with something so simple (probably not his best; it had been a long time) was enough to make his heart swell with emotion. It was...grounding, somehow, yet another reminder that this was real that Anders did, actually, feel the same way he did, and that was amazing and wonderful and everything he'd ever wanted hitting him all over again.

He kissed along Anders' hip and up his stomach and chest, gentle, nuzzling kisses as Anders came down again, until he was hovering over him, one hand braced by his head. "Hi," he breathed, when they were at eye level again, smiling, blue eyes big and round with warmth and love and devotion.

Anders just had to lie there and breathe for a few long moments as the singing in his veins, the rushing of the blood in his ears slowly ebbed and he could remember his name. It was like the soft nuzzles and kisses of Logan working up his body called him back to himself and by the time his face was even with Anders' he could lift up and take his mouth in a slow, worshiping kiss, tongue slicking into Logan's mouth to taste himself, and a soft echo of his earlier desperate noises in his throat.

He let his head fall back after a moment, and whispered back, "Hi." His eyes were still a little dazed and glassy. "You're amazing, you know that?" He reached a hand between them to press against Logan's chest and then trail down lower until he could brush his fingers over the crown of his cock.