There is the adjustment to communal living and the emotions that come with it, to studies, and of course there is no shortage of gossip and a nightly headache--
--but there's also Anders.
Breakfast with Anders, company and easing of the headaches, a friendly face and someone to talk to and learn from. It makes things easier, and he truly enjoys the man's company.
He even forgets (aided by there being others) that Anders' is an Alpha -- almost. He stops being wary about it, anyway. It fades to the back of his mind.
Until the combination of stress and being moved and psychic exposure and pressures or - it's hard to tell what is responsible, but he is definitely in heat and he is definitely not expecting it yet.
It isn't really deniable, though, and it's a bit less... subtle in lead up than he has come to expect. Still not immediately hit by a freight train, but more abrupt. He's relieved that he is only omega behind those wards--
at first.
It doesn't take long before he's a fevered, hurting - stomach and pelvis cramping - shivering, flushed, largely incoherent mess. The incoherent and disoriented is a problem. It means he's a freaked out mess, and responding defensively to almost everyone, refusing to go anywhere near water and just curled up tightly with his teeth clenched ignoring the hell out of guards and everyone else.
Until they get within arm's reach at which point he's trying to bite.
They don't usually call him in for only one heat, not unless it's bad. He hadn't bothered to ask who, it didn't matter, only the concern on mage's face when she told him she'd been sent to fetch him. Wynne had lessons, he only had potions and they could be taken over.
He'd gone as quickly as he could, the sixth floor mostly silent except an Alpha doing her best to keep quiet in another room he passes. Ser Della stands outside one of the smaller wards and he makes for that one, her eyes locking with his only make his pulse quicken. She's one of the few who actually care about her job, as stern as she was...and her expression spoke of concern.
He takes the lyrium potion she hands him and he pockets it as he opens the door- and stops dead in his tracks. The scent was overwhelming. Maker, no wonder they'd called him, there was only one and the room might as well have been full for how hard it hit him. No, it wasn't just that, under the instincts and the hormones and the rising warmth in him, he knew that smell.
He looks to Della, expression hard and hers changes to match. It was terse exchange: but in this, he had dominion, probably the only arena it was true. She would go down the hall, still in sight of the door, but a bit more privacy and hopefully less chance for Alaric to pick up on her while he's already vulnerable.
She moves and he' in the room with the door shut firmly behind him in the next moment. It's so strong, but he's already crossing to--to Alaric on confident instinct alone. His scent always lingered after him in Anders' mind, leaving him wanting to bury his face in Alaric's neck or hair, to pull him close. Now it was so much better (worse) and it leaves his mind cloudy and his instincts warring with his sense.
Alaric needed him- no he needs a healer. It would be so easy to bite and claim- he settles on the stool beside the bed, his hands already lighting up with light blue mana as he works on easing the symptoms. He could reach out and pull him close, wrap him in his scent in- he keeps one hand passing over Alaric's form while the other moves slowly, cautiously, towards his forehead to try and press a bit of ice mana against the skin.
He winces for the bite, sharp and hard and likely to bruise, but he doesn't heal it or think much of the throb left behind. He'd had a patient nearly stab him once, but that had far more to do with him being a mage.
He scoots closer instead and presses the cooling mana deeper as he aims to ease the aches in Alaric.
He allows himself one moment. One moment where he stops fighting the scent and simply breathes it in instead, deep and through him and it's heady and intoxicating and he wants so much more- he wants to climb into the bed with him, put his hands to better use-
And then he buries the thoughts, not to make them gone but to use them as kindling. He wants to help and care for Alaric. Because he's his friend.
Because he's his.
Anders leans forward as panacea weaves out from him inn a delicate web to enhance and soothe. The hand pressed to Alaric's forehead moves to the back of his neck to hold tightly as Anders bends down to press their foreheads together. "I've got you. You're safe, I promise. This will pass."
The magic helps him physically. Cools his temperature, eases the dull ache of something that has far too many teeth sunk too deep to be called arousl.
It's the touch and grip on the back of his neck and the sound of Ander's voice - and the words, but mostly the voice - that Alaric effectively collapses into. That' 'mine' in Anders' mind is also, at least, for the moment pretty damn good, too.
It makes him feel safer.
Yes, even with the more carnal desires.
He opens his mouth with every intention of speaking, but all that comes out is a soft groan. He gets his hand on Ander's shoulder and buries his face in the side of Anders' throat - mouth open because that way Anders' scent is both scent and taste, strong enough to block out any other 'competing' scents.
Alaric curls into him and the hand that had hovered before falls to rest on his chest. Distance wouldn't help either of them, not at this point, and some small part of his mind recognizes it's the touch that's helping, far more than the magic. He could do more touch, he was already lost.
Cooling touch at his neck, healing over his chest then around as his hand slides around to hold Alaric closer, nearly in his lap -or maybe he's nearly in the bed, his knee bracing against the edge like it is- and all he knows is the scent of Alaric and the feeling of him held close.
"Never." It's nearly growled out and that wasn't on purpose, but he doesn't apologize for it. Gregoir himself could come to take him away and Anders might just bite the Knight Commander himself.
"I'll stay until it's through." He wants to promise more, he can taste the words of promising to stay longer, but even like this he can't tell a lie like that.
He turns carefully and presses a light kiss to Alaric's temple instead of his lips like he aches to.
Alaric's instincts are all kind of tangled up, confused, and even outright messed up from how many heats he has spent entirely alone. Physically he wants Anders. His body is screaming at him to get fucked, and to do whatever he has to do to make Anders do that. The alpha he wants is right there. He's hard. He's wet. He is aching for more contact.
But his instincts are also pretty buried under 'be still, be quiet, just wait'.
The solid reality of Anders is by far stronger, but he's actually not being as aggressive as he wants (needs) to be? Even in response to that growl. Until it's over seems impossibly long and like an impossible promise, but it also feels... good? Safe again, something to believe and relax into.
Every breath he takes floods him with Anders' scent and he quickly goes from just breathing to - well, licking Anders' throat, periodically biting but gently for now.
Still completely, silent.
Definitely working on (subtly, he thinks), dragging Anders into the bed, though.
Alaric's pulling at him, licking, his teeth scrape his neck and there's no denying he's achingly hard. He can't on so many levels, but he can give Alaric more, as much as he can. He's fairly certain he might not make it out the other side, but if it helps, then it's worth it. Everything in him wants to roll out the world at Alaric's feet...but he starts with crawling into the bed with him, Anders' arm curling tight around him as he settles on his side and the hand at the back of Alaric's neck slides up to dig into the strands of his hair.
He nuzzles back into the scrape of teeth for just a moment, then pulls back to claim his lips, the kiss desperate and hot.
"Alaric..." Another kiss, tongue delving deep into the blond's mouth to revel in his taste, then he quickly tucked the Omega's head back against his neck.
He growls a little in soft complaint when Anders breaks that kiss before he's done with it, and further backs that protest with a very, very measured and controlled bite. One that won't leave a mark but keeps Anders' throat in his teeth for a moment or two.
In truth, though, he is settling and calming in a much more sincere way for having dragged Anders into the bed with him and enough of not just alpha but Anders flooding into his lungs with every inhale.
Like a wave cresting then subsiding - just a tiny bit. Just enough to catch a breath.
He's not far enough into this for continual high tide and that probably is not great news for either of them.
He fights with the hand in his hair enough to pull back to kiss Anders, slower and softer but no less deep and heated (and only slightly less needy) and gets their legs twined together with determination. Gets pressed as close and tight to Anders as he can.
"You're okay." That 'can't' feeling had come through as clearly as the want.
His neck in Alaric's teeth leaves him panting and he feels ridiculous but too content to be close to him for it to matter as much as just the need to touch. He was no virgin, he wasn't in a rut, but that didn't stop the need for anything and everything Alaric.
That's the Alpha part of his mind, though...the healer recognizes a lull, not the end, but the precursor to what will be worse for the man in his arms. He had no intentions of going anywhere.
Especially not when the soft kiss catches his attention and Anders returns it with all the reverence and care Alaric deserves. His leg bends and he presses his knee gently between Alaric's leg. A subtle press for now, but likely to be useful later when his patient's body demanded more than he was getting. For now, he aimed to just hold him, kiss his forehead, his hair, until those words pull a smile to his lips over the protective concern.
"Hey...that's my line." Then, a little more seriously: "There's everything wrong with this, but if it helps you, then I'll take care of you now and apologize later."
The kisses, affection, and that knee are... not driving him higher, just now, but they are holding him steady.
It isn't the first time Anders has confused him, and it won't be the last. Hopefully, it will be the simplest thing that confuses him. His view of his own intelligence might suffer if that is not the case.
He frowns faintly at Anders. "Why would you apologize?"
For a moment, there's something remorseful in his expression, then it smooths and sinks away as Anders pets his hair and pulls him in for another, softer, almost more intimate kiss.
"Alaric...on the very basic level, you've known me a week, I have no business in your bed, even in all my clothes, while you're out of your mind with need. You're vulnerable, I should be watching over you, not touching you when you can barely string together enough sense for any kind of consent. Beyond that, I'm a healer, I certainly shouldn't have my leg pressed between my patient's legs while my tongue is down their throat."
He didn't regret it. Not for a second, not an instant, he wasn't sorry, other than Alaric being out of his mind for it. That part made him intensely uncomfortable, no better than any other Alpha or templar thinking they can take what they want. Being with Alaric, though? They were talking and breathing and almost normal in that moment and he wanted nothing more than to kiss him again.
He takes Anders' face in both his hands, and kisses him with some more of that banked heat and sweetness, because 'almost normal' included needing some time to gather words - and because he knew Anders wanted to, and because he wanted to, and because some part of his brain roughly decided: Fine, then I'll put my tongue down his throat.
"Why did they bring you here?" Soft, not enunciating quite entirely clearly, but still somehow being pointed.
He wouldn't call himself a particularly strong person, when it came to feats of willpower...there was most certainly nothing he could do when Alaric was kissing him, he had to kiss back. The world might end and another blight might happen, that was surely the alternative to not kissing those wonderful lips and breathing him in as soon as they part.
"Because I'm a Spirit Healer...you were in pain and all they said was that it was bad. Then I got here and..." It was. And Intoxicating. And some part of him still wanted to leave a mark, even if it wasn't The Mark, he wanted some small claim. He pressed their foreheads together instead. "I wanted to help." That, at it's core, was true.
"Yes." He's pretty distracted by that kiss. Wants to go back for more. Wants to- Oh hey, he can do that. He starts working around Anders' clothing, just at the top, so he can try to get his hands flat against skin. "You wanted to help."
He may be losing a little coherence again, but he's clinging to it. "Do you think another spirit healer could have, without a lot of force?" And upset. At best.
There's only the two, he wants to say but doesn't, only him and Wynne and Wynne would have stayed by the door. Maybe even sat in one of the other beds and simply reached further, maybe ordered stronger potions like for the bonded mates, not crawled into bed with her patient.
She wouldn't have done everything she could because she followed the rules too closely and any normal healer couldn't have helped as well without potentially being forceful about it.
"No." Is all that comes out as he arches into the fingers on his chest. He needed to talk to him later, when heads were clearer, but for now he let it just be touch and intimacy in the face of the stirring storm again. He lets off the magic for a moment, to rebuild his mana. They'd need the potion still in his pocket during the worst of it.
That is the answer he needed Anders to say. He knows there's more there, can vaguely sense it, but can't chase it down and wouldn't anyway.
He slides his hand around to Anders' back, still splayed wide over skin. It lets him get closer and get his face back into the crook of Ander's neck. He shivers very slightly as he settle, but miraculously (now that his point has been made)....
He dozes off.
It is broken, restless, and very shallow sleep. With Anders there, though, familiar scent in his nose, mental awareness of a known (and now reading 'safe') presence, and his hands on bare skin, it is sleep.
He stays in that doze while his scent mounts and intensifies again, and even through his skin heating, flushing and breaking out in a light sweat. He starts to come more fully awake around the time that dull ache comes back, and he's seeking friction against Anders' thigh.
Only this time his eyes are glassy and dazed and he is most definitely not coherent.
Alaric buried against his neck and finally finding some form of peace gives him the opportunity to do what he'd wanted to do a week ago. He puts his nose to Alaric's hair an breathes deep, drinks it in like a man wanting to drown and lets it and the steadily evening breaths lull him into a doze.
At some point, the door opens and Anders looks up to see a familiar figure shadowing the doorway before he came all the way in. Anders pulled Alaric a little closer against his neck to hide the other scent of Alpha, however fainter. Irving stared at him, likely taking in the state of their dress and the protective hold and Anders stared at him...he didn't know if it was pleading or a challenge, but whatever Irving saw, he cleared his throat softly, made a show of looking around the room like he'd seen nothing and slipped back out.
One point in the abysmal man's favor, he supposed.
When he wakes again, it's to the increased scent and the heat under his hands as Alaric warms to the touch. Panacea kicks in and more ice mana filters through his fingers into Alaric's neck. Alaric's eyes open, but he's not there and Anders can only keep him close, knee pressed more firmly to grant the friction he needed as he whispers soft assurances. His other hand and slips under Alaric's shirt to press cool healing into the fevered skin over his hammering heart.
I've got you, you're safe, we'll get you through this. It'll be all right.
The benefit of having spent every heat since puberty alone is that Alaric has basically, even subconsciously, stopped expecting both help and help. He's taking - seeking- the friction, yeah, but there's no serious pursuit of getting fucked, even with an alpha right there.
Which doesn't mean he's making it easy on Anders.
He can feel - and hear - that mental voice. Reaches out to it and basically the result in being exposed to Anders' arousal and exposing Anders to the sheer level of want - without direction or intention - and physical discomfort in him.
and under that the deep, deep, appreciation for being cooled, and all that contact and having someone else there and belief in Anders
And about the time he starts panting for breath, though, he starts trying to get away from Anders.
He's not expecting the press of desire suddenly in him that isn't his own, nor the feeling of discomfort that accompanied, like a peak through glass at something he'd seen many times, but now the glass was clear and unfrosted and offered far too much clarity.
It leaves him gasping into Alaric's hair, his lips grazing down his jaw, down to his neck in Anders' haze. He kisses and nips down to the junction of neck and shoulder- and suddenly Alaric's trying to get away and for a moment his mind's too much a haze for anything but instinct.
Strength he rarely imposed presses down against Alaric's chest where his healing still glowed. Anders moves over him, a knee still pressing between the Omega's legs while his other hand slides from neck to throat, his thumb tracing lightly, gently.
"Alaric..." His voice is rough, like a growl echoes behind it but doesn't fully form. He takes a deep breath and tries again, calmer, softer as he pushes out of the urge to overwhelm and settles more into a desire to softly direct. "You're not well enough...where do you think you're going?"
That...that should be concerning. That feeling just now shouldn't be something he's letting linger in his consideration. A mage's mind needed to remain his own for everyone's safety, but what if it was for Alaric's safety? He couldn't let him go -didn't want to let him go- was his own privacy so important? Yes and no. The privacy of his mind was all he had left in the circle, but would it be so bad to share it in a more intimate way than he even had with Karl? Not when the person in question intoxicated his heart and mind in a way that really ought to scare him more.
His thumb brushes along Alaric's throat, only the smallest bit of pressure applied to show his intent to keep him pinned as he braced himself more on his knees and leaned forward to kiss Alaric's forehead. "Then don't. I'm not afraid of you and I don't want you to be afraid of me."
He didn't know if he even knew how to 'sort' his thoughts, but he could at least be calm and offer that, even with how much his instincts wanted to offer more base options of relief to Alaric, the healer part of himself was focused and calm.
He is, truthfully, not even looking for the more... base options of relief. He is miserable - close to being in real pain and starting toward nauseated, but even so he's simply taking what he's given. The cooling sensation from Anders' hand, keeping his physical temperature in something like check, and the contact and weight.
He's only barely coherent, anyway.
"I'm not afraid of you." He's afraid of hurting Anders. "Can you... lie down?" Just - lay down with him.
Is anyone going to come in again? How much risk is there? He can't even formulate those thoughts - feelings - into proper words. He just doesn't want to lose the contact.
There is also, absolutely, a steady background of his arousal and discomfort and unease being projected to Anders, but with it comes the sense of... relative security in Anders.
"Of course." That would probably be more comfortable for them both, anyway, he couldn't imagine either of them wanted Anders to hover and pin Alaric to the bed for hours. He briefly thinks to the door, reasons out they'll likely be left alone if Irving himself came into to check and offered what brief reprieve they could find. Anders would need to watch the old man to make sure he didn't use this against them, but that wasn't something to be considered right now.
Right now, he ensures his magic maintains it's steady stream as he moves off Alaric and takes a moment to down the lyrium potion. Then he's back at Alaric's side, his own back to the door to offer a corner of the wall and Anders' body for Alaric to hide in while Anders' arms wrapped around him again. "You're safe here, right now, I promise."
At least his most miserable would be his most protected, as long as Anders had any say in it.
He is going to have questions. He's going to have concerns. He's going to want to find a way to help Anders.
For now, all of those things... are unable to quite surface.
He can't even question the claim of safety.
He won't be this out of it every time. Because at some point he'll be able to do something with it. This, even with just Anders presence, is better than anything he's ever experienced.
He curls into Anders. The closeness and, truthfully, Anders' scent, are good. Having a block on his vision and something between him and the door are good. The arousal doesn't damp down but the frantic edge to it does ease - both in him and in Anders' mind.
He gets his mouth on Anders' throat, open and wet and hot.
Then basically gives up and in. Goes into some sort of semi-conscious state that he's in and out of, but at least more relaxed about it. The fragile mental link though? It stays through it all. He needs that extra awareness.
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There is the adjustment to communal living and the emotions that come with it, to studies, and of course there is no shortage of gossip and a nightly headache--
--but there's also Anders.
Breakfast with Anders, company and easing of the headaches, a friendly face and someone to talk to and learn from. It makes things easier, and he truly enjoys the man's company.
He even forgets (aided by there being others) that Anders' is an Alpha -- almost. He stops being wary about it, anyway. It fades to the back of his mind.
Until the combination of stress and being moved and psychic exposure and pressures or - it's hard to tell what is responsible, but he is definitely in heat and he is definitely not expecting it yet.
It isn't really deniable, though, and it's a bit less... subtle in lead up than he has come to expect. Still not immediately hit by a freight train, but more abrupt. He's relieved that he is only omega behind those wards--
at first.
It doesn't take long before he's a fevered, hurting - stomach and pelvis cramping - shivering, flushed, largely incoherent mess. The incoherent and disoriented is a problem. It means he's a freaked out mess, and responding defensively to almost everyone, refusing to go anywhere near water and just curled up tightly with his teeth clenched ignoring the hell out of guards and everyone else.
Until they get within arm's reach at which point he's trying to bite.
Dignity.
Right.
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He'd gone as quickly as he could, the sixth floor mostly silent except an Alpha doing her best to keep quiet in another room he passes. Ser Della stands outside one of the smaller wards and he makes for that one, her eyes locking with his only make his pulse quicken. She's one of the few who actually care about her job, as stern as she was...and her expression spoke of concern.
He takes the lyrium potion she hands him and he pockets it as he opens the door- and stops dead in his tracks. The scent was overwhelming. Maker, no wonder they'd called him, there was only one and the room might as well have been full for how hard it hit him. No, it wasn't just that, under the instincts and the hormones and the rising warmth in him, he knew that smell.
He looks to Della, expression hard and hers changes to match. It was terse exchange: but in this, he had dominion, probably the only arena it was true. She would go down the hall, still in sight of the door, but a bit more privacy and hopefully less chance for Alaric to pick up on her while he's already vulnerable.
She moves and he' in the room with the door shut firmly behind him in the next moment. It's so strong, but he's already crossing to--to Alaric on confident instinct alone. His scent always lingered after him in Anders' mind, leaving him wanting to bury his face in Alaric's neck or hair, to pull him close. Now it was so much better (worse) and it leaves his mind cloudy and his instincts warring with his sense.
Alaric needed him- no he needs a healer. It would be so easy to bite and claim- he settles on the stool beside the bed, his hands already lighting up with light blue mana as he works on easing the symptoms. He could reach out and pull him close, wrap him in his scent in- he keeps one hand passing over Alaric's form while the other moves slowly, cautiously, towards his forehead to try and press a bit of ice mana against the skin.
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and Alaric initially dismisses both as some sort of hallucination. Disconnected from reality, right along with the rest of him.
Then Anders touches him and before he can quite put two and two together he has latched his teeth solidly into the side of Anders' wrist.
Just lightning fast.
He's equally fast in letting go and looking horrified, if still disoriented and miserable.
Hard to deny the feel of flesh clamped between your teeth as reality.
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He scoots closer instead and presses the cooling mana deeper as he aims to ease the aches in Alaric.
He allows himself one moment. One moment where he stops fighting the scent and simply breathes it in instead, deep and through him and it's heady and intoxicating and he wants so much more- he wants to climb into the bed with him, put his hands to better use-
And then he buries the thoughts, not to make them gone but to use them as kindling. He wants to help and care for Alaric. Because he's his friend.
Because he's his.
Anders leans forward as panacea weaves out from him inn a delicate web to enhance and soothe. The hand pressed to Alaric's forehead moves to the back of his neck to hold tightly as Anders bends down to press their foreheads together. "I've got you. You're safe, I promise. This will pass."
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It's the touch and grip on the back of his neck and the sound of Ander's voice - and the words, but mostly the voice - that Alaric effectively collapses into. That' 'mine' in Anders' mind is also, at least, for the moment pretty damn good, too.
It makes him feel safer.
Yes, even with the more carnal desires.
He opens his mouth with every intention of speaking, but all that comes out is a soft groan. He gets his hand on Ander's shoulder and buries his face in the side of Anders' throat - mouth open because that way Anders' scent is both scent and taste,
strong enough to block out any other 'competing' scents.
"Don't leave."
The only words he can find, just then.
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Cooling touch at his neck, healing over his chest then around as his hand slides around to hold Alaric closer, nearly in his lap -or maybe he's nearly in the bed, his knee bracing against the edge like it is- and all he knows is the scent of Alaric and the feeling of him held close.
"Never." It's nearly growled out and that wasn't on purpose, but he doesn't apologize for it. Gregoir himself could come to take him away and Anders might just bite the Knight Commander himself.
"I'll stay until it's through." He wants to promise more, he can taste the words of promising to stay longer, but even like this he can't tell a lie like that.
He turns carefully and presses a light kiss to Alaric's temple instead of his lips like he aches to.
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But his instincts are also pretty buried under 'be still, be quiet, just wait'.
The solid reality of Anders is by far stronger, but he's actually not being as aggressive as he wants (needs) to be? Even in response to that growl. Until it's over seems impossibly long and like an impossible promise, but it also feels... good? Safe again, something to believe and relax into.
Every breath he takes floods him with Anders' scent and he quickly goes from just breathing to - well, licking Anders' throat, periodically biting but gently for now.
Still completely, silent.
Definitely working on (subtly, he thinks), dragging Anders into the bed, though.
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He nuzzles back into the scrape of teeth for just a moment, then pulls back to claim his lips, the kiss desperate and hot.
"Alaric..." Another kiss, tongue delving deep into the blond's mouth to revel in his taste, then he quickly tucked the Omega's head back against his neck.
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In truth, though, he is settling and calming in a much more sincere way for having dragged Anders into the bed with him and enough of not just alpha but Anders flooding into his lungs with every inhale.
Like a wave cresting then subsiding - just a tiny bit. Just enough to catch a breath.
He's not far enough into this for continual high tide and that probably is not great news for either of them.
He fights with the hand in his hair enough to pull back to kiss Anders, slower and softer but no less deep and heated (and only slightly less needy) and gets their legs twined together with determination. Gets pressed as close and tight to Anders as he can.
"You're okay." That 'can't' feeling had come through as clearly as the want.
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That's the Alpha part of his mind, though...the healer recognizes a lull, not the end, but the precursor to what will be worse for the man in his arms. He had no intentions of going anywhere.
Especially not when the soft kiss catches his attention and Anders returns it with all the reverence and care Alaric deserves. His leg bends and he presses his knee gently between Alaric's leg. A subtle press for now, but likely to be useful later when his patient's body demanded more than he was getting. For now, he aimed to just hold him, kiss his forehead, his hair, until those words pull a smile to his lips over the protective concern.
"Hey...that's my line." Then, a little more seriously: "There's everything wrong with this, but if it helps you, then I'll take care of you now and apologize later."
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It isn't the first time Anders has confused him, and it won't be the last. Hopefully, it will be the simplest thing that confuses him. His view of his own intelligence might suffer if that is not the case.
He frowns faintly at Anders. "Why would you apologize?"
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"Alaric...on the very basic level, you've known me a week, I have no business in your bed, even in all my clothes, while you're out of your mind with need. You're vulnerable, I should be watching over you, not touching you when you can barely string together enough sense for any kind of consent. Beyond that, I'm a healer, I certainly shouldn't have my leg pressed between my patient's legs while my tongue is down their throat."
He didn't regret it. Not for a second, not an instant, he wasn't sorry, other than Alaric being out of his mind for it. That part made him intensely uncomfortable, no better than any other Alpha or templar thinking they can take what they want. Being with Alaric, though? They were talking and breathing and almost normal in that moment and he wanted nothing more than to kiss him again.
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"Why did they bring you here?" Soft, not enunciating quite entirely clearly, but still somehow being pointed.
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"Because I'm a Spirit Healer...you were in pain and all they said was that it was bad. Then I got here and..." It was. And Intoxicating. And some part of him still wanted to leave a mark, even if it wasn't The Mark, he wanted some small claim. He pressed their foreheads together instead. "I wanted to help." That, at it's core, was true.
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He may be losing a little coherence again, but he's clinging to it. "Do you think another spirit healer could have, without a lot of force?" And upset. At best.
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She wouldn't have done everything she could because she followed the rules too closely and any normal healer couldn't have helped as well without potentially being forceful about it.
"No." Is all that comes out as he arches into the fingers on his chest. He needed to talk to him later, when heads were clearer, but for now he let it just be touch and intimacy in the face of the stirring storm again. He lets off the magic for a moment, to rebuild his mana. They'd need the potion still in his pocket during the worst of it.
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He slides his hand around to Anders' back, still splayed wide over skin. It lets him get closer and get his face back into the crook of Ander's neck. He shivers very slightly as he settle, but miraculously (now that his point has been made)....
He dozes off.
It is broken, restless, and very shallow sleep. With Anders there, though, familiar scent in his nose, mental awareness of a known (and now reading 'safe') presence, and his hands on bare skin, it is sleep.
He stays in that doze while his scent mounts and intensifies again, and even through his skin heating, flushing and breaking out in a light sweat. He starts to come more fully awake around the time that dull ache comes back, and he's seeking friction against Anders' thigh.
Only this time his eyes are glassy and dazed and he is most definitely not coherent.
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At some point, the door opens and Anders looks up to see a familiar figure shadowing the doorway before he came all the way in. Anders pulled Alaric a little closer against his neck to hide the other scent of Alpha, however fainter. Irving stared at him, likely taking in the state of their dress and the protective hold and Anders stared at him...he didn't know if it was pleading or a challenge, but whatever Irving saw, he cleared his throat softly, made a show of looking around the room like he'd seen nothing and slipped back out.
One point in the abysmal man's favor, he supposed.
When he wakes again, it's to the increased scent and the heat under his hands as Alaric warms to the touch. Panacea kicks in and more ice mana filters through his fingers into Alaric's neck. Alaric's eyes open, but he's not there and Anders can only keep him close, knee pressed more firmly to grant the friction he needed as he whispers soft assurances. His other hand and slips under Alaric's shirt to press cool healing into the fevered skin over his hammering heart.
I've got you, you're safe, we'll get you through this. It'll be all right.
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Which doesn't mean he's making it easy on Anders.
He can feel - and hear - that mental voice. Reaches out to it and basically the result in being exposed to Anders' arousal and exposing Anders to the sheer level of want - without direction or intention - and physical discomfort in him.
and under that the deep, deep, appreciation for being cooled, and all that contact and having someone else there and belief in Anders
And about the time he starts panting for breath, though, he starts trying to get away from Anders.
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It leaves him gasping into Alaric's hair, his lips grazing down his jaw, down to his neck in Anders' haze. He kisses and nips down to the junction of neck and shoulder- and suddenly Alaric's trying to get away and for a moment his mind's too much a haze for anything but instinct.
Strength he rarely imposed presses down against Alaric's chest where his healing still glowed. Anders moves over him, a knee still pressing between the Omega's legs while his other hand slides from neck to throat, his thumb tracing lightly, gently.
"Alaric..." His voice is rough, like a growl echoes behind it but doesn't fully form. He takes a deep breath and tries again, calmer, softer as he pushes out of the urge to overwhelm and settles more into a desire to softly direct. "You're not well enough...where do you think you're going?"
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It makes him relax.
The hand on his throat makes his eyes roll back briefly, entire body shuddering before he settles more.
This is sure as hell not biting and fighting.
"I don't know if I can stay out of your head!" Seeing as he'd just failed? Probably not.
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His thumb brushes along Alaric's throat, only the smallest bit of pressure applied to show his intent to keep him pinned as he braced himself more on his knees and leaned forward to kiss Alaric's forehead. "Then don't. I'm not afraid of you and I don't want you to be afraid of me."
He didn't know if he even knew how to 'sort' his thoughts, but he could at least be calm and offer that, even with how much his instincts wanted to offer more base options of relief to Alaric, the healer part of himself was focused and calm.
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He's only barely coherent, anyway.
"I'm not afraid of you." He's afraid of hurting Anders. "Can you... lie down?" Just - lay down with him.
Is anyone going to come in again? How much risk is there? He can't even formulate those thoughts - feelings - into proper words. He just doesn't want to lose the contact.
There is also, absolutely, a steady background of his arousal and discomfort and unease being projected to Anders, but with it comes the sense of... relative security in Anders.
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Right now, he ensures his magic maintains it's steady stream as he moves off Alaric and takes a moment to down the lyrium potion. Then he's back at Alaric's side, his own back to the door to offer a corner of the wall and Anders' body for Alaric to hide in while Anders' arms wrapped around him again. "You're safe here, right now, I promise."
At least his most miserable would be his most protected, as long as Anders had any say in it.
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For now, all of those things... are unable to quite surface.
He can't even question the claim of safety.
He won't be this out of it every time. Because at some point he'll be able to do something with it. This, even with just Anders presence, is better than anything he's ever experienced.
He curls into Anders. The closeness and, truthfully, Anders' scent, are good. Having a block on his vision and something between him and the door are good. The arousal doesn't damp down but the frantic edge to it does ease - both in him and in Anders' mind.
He gets his mouth on Anders' throat, open and wet and hot.
Then basically gives up and in. Goes into some sort of semi-conscious state that he's in and out of, but at least more relaxed about it. The fragile mental link though? It stays through it all. He needs that extra awareness.
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