hollyand

Hawke stroked Anders's hair slowly, letting it run through his fingers like a golden waterfall as he slid his hands through the silken strands all the way from the sleeping fair-haired man's head to the very tips. He smiled to himself, part in happiness as he watched the slumbering mage on his pillow, and part in disbelief that this beautiful man whom he had loved for so long, so long that it ached, was finally here, finally with him, and he swore to himself that he would never, ever, ever let Anders go. Propping himself up on one elbow while his other hand continued to stroke slowly and carefully through Anders's hair, Hawke leaned forward a