He leans into Alaric's space, face tilted up at him like a man basking in sunlight instead of his companion's ire.
"Ser Morgan...you're so attractive when irritated with me. I'll need to remember that. Fine, keep your intentions and your plate. I'll find something else next time." Maybe.
"Please do. And ideally nothing useful or living." Throw rocks. Or bodies. Also he is still irritated but now irritated at being amused. How dare Anders do that to him. "And I will return this to the kitchen myself, thank you."
Does he like that growl? absolutely he does...on so many levels, each more complicated. One was a basic, rather easy fact that he wouldn't mind hearing that right next to his ear sometime. Preferably while tangled together. Another was the fact that no one, not even Karl had growled at him like that, excluding Alphas in their rut and irritable. Those times hadn't been like this, enticing and alluringly tempting to act out more just to hear it again. Which made this tangle in his chest all the more complicated.
Alaric was enchanting, captivating, he growled when pressed right, his face lit up with such joy but rarely enough that it was as beautiful as a force of nature, his hands and lips were soft, his eyes deep and gorgeous and Anders knew how right it felt for his fingers to be in that lovely blond hair that framed his face.
Was it love? Not yet, but Maker help him it was certainly infatuation and affection and things too dangerous to consider. Mages didn't love. Couldn't love. Andraste spare them both, or at least Alaric, that terrible fate...but when had he ever been so lucky?
He didn't bother to take the stars from his eyes as he continued to look up at Alaric. "You wear such irritation in your voice...I wonder what it tastes like."
Another dangerous thought, as idle as it sounded, though more for the fact he knew if Alaric kissed him with even part of that bite in it, he might find himself more than a little turned on. He blinks as though coming out of a trance and sits up a bit more. "We should head inside anyway...if we're caught out here, it will make sneaking around harder for a while."
He doesn't know what to do with that genuine reaction. It would, without his abilities and a bit more knowledge of Anders, feel like he was being mocked.
He isn't, though. He can feel that and it's... thrilling and scary and bewildering.
"Where will we sneak to, next?"
He isn't quite ready to let go, even as confused as he is.
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"Ser Morgan...you're so attractive when irritated with me. I'll need to remember that. Fine, keep your intentions and your plate. I'll find something else next time." Maybe.
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He...
He growls at Anders, albeit very softly.
"Please do. And ideally nothing useful or living." Throw rocks. Or bodies. Also he is still irritated but now irritated at being amused. How dare Anders do that to him. "And I will return this to the kitchen myself, thank you."
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Alaric was enchanting, captivating, he growled when pressed right, his face lit up with such joy but rarely enough that it was as beautiful as a force of nature, his hands and lips were soft, his eyes deep and gorgeous and Anders knew how right it felt for his fingers to be in that lovely blond hair that framed his face.
Was it love? Not yet, but Maker help him it was certainly infatuation and affection and things too dangerous to consider. Mages didn't love. Couldn't love. Andraste spare them both, or at least Alaric, that terrible fate...but when had he ever been so lucky?
He didn't bother to take the stars from his eyes as he continued to look up at Alaric. "You wear such irritation in your voice...I wonder what it tastes like."
Another dangerous thought, as idle as it sounded, though more for the fact he knew if Alaric kissed him with even part of that bite in it, he might find himself more than a little turned on. He blinks as though coming out of a trance and sits up a bit more. "We should head inside anyway...if we're caught out here, it will make sneaking around harder for a while."
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He isn't, though. He can feel that and it's... thrilling and scary and bewildering.
"Where will we sneak to, next?"
He isn't quite ready to let go, even as confused as he is.
this is really bad news, isn't it?