Bloody Apples

Chapter Eight

It took Fenris longer than Anders was comfortable with to answer. He held Anders's gaze the whole time with eyes wide, like a frightened animal. Anders had considered taking it back multiple times, but he held his ground. A cold sweat was beginning to break at the back of his neck, and his hands were beginning to shake. He had never thought he'd proposition Fenris, of all people, into bed. But he also never thought he'd wake up to find he'd been in love with him for years with with a decent home, a cat and and a more functionable clinic. Things change.

Eventually, Fenris swallowed and slowly shook his head. "I can't," he whispered.

Anders's heart fell.

Fenris realized his wording quickly and hurried to correct it. "I promised you I wouldn't do this, Anders. You don't remember, but it is a promise I vowed never to break."

Anders couldn't fight the mocking laugh that forced its way past his lips, "You promised never to sleep with me? We were together!" Anders noted the flash of pain in Fenris's eyes and sighed, "Are together."

"That's not what I meant." Fenris checked the window to note the lighting outside. He must have decided they had enough time, as he motioned Anders to sit. Sitting was the last thing he wanted to do, as his body was on fire with nerves and agitation. He tried to reign himself in and will the blood to start flowing up again as he took the indicated seat.

"I'm listening," he said through his teeth.

"We didn't start off where we are now, I'm afraid. We began our relationship with a bit of passion and a lot of anger."

Fenris marched through his basement to the secret entrance to Darktown with a near-empty bottle of wine clutched in his right hand. With a very strong buzz in his blood and a spinning mind filled with rage and pain, he stormed through Darktown in the dead of night. His brands glowed softly and gave away his trudging steps to any refugee or thief in the area. He wore none of his armor, but he wasn't worried. He could handle himself without armor or a blade just fine in the adrenaline-filled state he was in. He had been pacing and drinking, pacing and drinking, over and over in the mansion hallway until he finally worked the nerve to come down here. The closer he came to the clinic, the more his blood ran hot and pooled lower. He could not kill Anders for fear of Hawke's rage, but he could dominate him and show himself that he could tower over any mage.

He slammed his fist against the closed and locked door thrice. He stared impatiently at his toes while he listened to the movement and shuffling of feet within. He was nearly about to abuse the door a second time when it finally opened, and the face of a rather agitated Anders peeked through.

"Fenris? What in the Maker's name are you doing here at this hour?" His eyes glanced over him, settling for a microsecond on his very present erection. "You don't look hurt, and I don't think I can help you with that problem. Call on Isabela. I'm out for the night." He made to close the door, but Fenris held it open. Anders huffed. "What do you want you insufferable elf?"

"You," he sneered. His green eyes raked along Anders's body, which was barely visible beneath the baggy sleeping shirt and ratty trousers he wore. "We despise each other and what we stand for. I propose we finally hash it out in a way Hawke wouldn't disapprove of."

Anders flinched at the mention of Hawke's name, but Fenris ignored it. They had separated only a week ago, and Anders was clearly hurting. All the more reason to take his anger out on someone who could make him scream with pleasure and pain. "You're clearly drunk. Come back when you're sober so I can laugh at you properly. We're done here."

Fenris lit his brands and passed through the door as Anders shut it. Now both of them were inside the empty clinic together. Anders scoffed with outrage and crossed his arms over his chest. "You do not expect me to bend over for you because you hate me."