#malefxcar

send me five times kissed for a drabble.

i.      Tempers rage, a fire storm so intense it puts everything else to shame. They argue on this, of course they do, Alistair loyalty to the Wardens is unequaled, and Hawke─ Sweet Andraste, a mistake one single mistake made by men not of their own mind and the entire order is condemned? When exactly fists fly he doesn’t really know, or remember, but the connect is white hot and painful, tinged with the bitter taste of regret. It isn’t until some time later, under a sickly green glow that he takes Hawke’s hand in his own and presses an apologetic kiss against his knuckles. ii.      It is more often than not that they come together in a mess of hands and teeth and smug grins paired with terrible puns. Hawke’s beard tickles his chin and he all but laughs into it, earning a sharp jab to the side, which only makes him laugh even more. A mess of laughter, terrible puns, even worse jokes─ Alistair always things how amazing it is that he is this damnably happy. The other man makes him laugh, drives him crazy, and frustrates him to no end, but happy. “Shave that damn beard.” He doesn’t mean it, not at all, grins and laughs kisses him again.iii.      Some nights are dark, terrible, nightmares clawing at the base of his skull as sweet melody echos in his ears. Come die, it sings, come come come swing your sword and die. For all intents and purposes it feels like he is, often fearing to wake and find himself covered in sores, find that the Blight has eaten through his skin. It never has. It is always he is always awake when Hawke stirs from his own, eyes wide and glassy and trapped for a moment in. He never asks what sees or hears, only pulls him closer and presses a kiss to the top of his head. It’s about all he can do.( they each have their demons, threatening to tear them apart, ever present and not easily banished. )

nonsexual acts of intimacy: ♣: Back scratches

       He is still angry when he feels the bed sag beside him, familiar shadow to loom over sprawled frame and elf makes no attempt at communication, not trusting tongue to be rid of venom quite yet. There is no expectation of apology ( how does one apologize for their nature, after all, lover a GALAXY of starts reaching their burning point, born to EXHAUST themselves in the plight of bringing light to OTHERS — & this has never been a  s e c r e t  ) but he had been hoping ——— for what, he has no idea, merely something more than what he got, Something more sincere, understanding, perhaps, and he should know by now that wishful thinking is best saved as just that; wishful, not something to truly believe could entangle with reality. and he is foolish for believing otherwise.

                                                                      HAWKS are birds of PREY after all;                                                                      he is not built for any such softness. 

       Murmur of a name and tentative touch of fingertips to flesh are greeted with the dim flaring of lyrium carvings ( a warning of his lingering irritation — he would not dream of removing heart from within other’s chest ) of which mage pays no heed, ghost-like touches following path careful to avoid the lines aglow with visible unease. It does little to ease his anger but he does calm, lyrium fading back to a more docile form of illumination in begrudging acceptance of the act, Loss still rings in his ears, FEAR still etched into eyelids in the form of pale skin and pooling blood, eyes that took far too long to open again and inconsiderate JOKE that falls from lips of champion upon his wake. It stings, weeks in the past yet still and open wound that finds itself salted and kicked near daily and he cannot tell if he is more frustrated with Garrett for his adamant refusal to care a little — if not for himself then for the sake of those who worry for him, who love him — or with himself for being unable to break through that thick skull of his despite his best attempts.

                    ( He concludes the answer is Garrett and has half a mind to shove him away )                                                                                          -------- But he doesn't. 

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"Oh, I was taught how to shave! I shaved a pretty interesting shape into a certain patch of hair- would you care to take a look?"

"The fact that you can’t even think of a comeback automatically makes me a winner and you a loser haha, nerd."