[If he'd said all that in Kirkwall . . . ah, but there's little point in chasing after that thread, is there? He hadn't, and Fenris had not realized, and yet it had all worked out. Perhaps a bit later than they might have preferred, but on the other hand, oh, he cannot imagine the rage he would have been in if the Chantry had blown up while he was fully in love with Sebastian. Maker's breath, nothing would have survived that, not until Fenris had made sure Sebastian was safe and whole. His feelings on the Chantry in general are . . . passive, let's say, although there's been a few conversations lately that have made him thoughtful. But ah, his feelings for Sebastian are—
Well. The point is: it worked out.]
You're saying it here and now.
[And honestly, that's what really matters. Fenris tips his head down, brushing their lips together in a swift kiss before he pulls back. Honestly, he's happy enough that it almost hurts, his heart aching with joy and love and adoration (and, quietly, minutely, a little bit of fear, for nothing good can last. But he's not thinking thoughts like that right now).]
And I do not think I could have heard it properly in Kirkwall.
[Not as sullen and terrified as he'd always been. Perhaps they could have begun something, but it would have been far more difficult.
And they can talk about that, sure, but . . . maybe not right this second, when he's very aware of Sebastian between his spread legs. His fingers card through his hair again, then curl, gripping gently as he tips his head back.]
I love you.
[It's important to say over and over, at least right now. But with that established, he ducks back down again. He misses that mouth on his neck, but oh, kissing brings its own joys. He has a vague thought for vows and chastity, but honestly, that's for Sebastian to offer up. He's just going to kiss him until they're both dizzy from lack of breath, memorizing the exact way his lips push and pull, the broadness of his hands and cleverness of his fingers, all of it, all of him, so much different than the idle fantasies he's had. So much better.]
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Well. The point is: it worked out.]
You're saying it here and now.
[And honestly, that's what really matters. Fenris tips his head down, brushing their lips together in a swift kiss before he pulls back. Honestly, he's happy enough that it almost hurts, his heart aching with joy and love and adoration (and, quietly, minutely, a little bit of fear, for nothing good can last. But he's not thinking thoughts like that right now).]
And I do not think I could have heard it properly in Kirkwall.
[Not as sullen and terrified as he'd always been. Perhaps they could have begun something, but it would have been far more difficult.
And they can talk about that, sure, but . . . maybe not right this second, when he's very aware of Sebastian between his spread legs. His fingers card through his hair again, then curl, gripping gently as he tips his head back.]
I love you.
[It's important to say over and over, at least right now. But with that established, he ducks back down again. He misses that mouth on his neck, but oh, kissing brings its own joys. He has a vague thought for vows and chastity, but honestly, that's for Sebastian to offer up. He's just going to kiss him until they're both dizzy from lack of breath, memorizing the exact way his lips push and pull, the broadness of his hands and cleverness of his fingers, all of it, all of him, so much different than the idle fantasies he's had. So much better.]