Blood and Lust: Conflicted

Anders watches her…waiting for her to notice his presence. She doesn't, just continues to talk to the elf.

Fenris adores Elske, practically worships the ground she walks on for all the innocent mage hunting she does and Anders can't stand it. He wants to hurt Fenris, make his handsome elven face become bloody pulp under his fists.

These thoughts frighten him; he's never been this aggressive or violent. Maybe it is Elske; she does things like that…changes people. Maybe it's the fact that the templars are after him now…and soon he'll have to leave the clinic in search of a new home, leaving his emotions in chaos. No matter what the cause is he can't deny the jealousy running through his chest…that is his woman, she belongs to no one else.

Finally her storm cloud eyes turn on him and she smiles, this is not a loving smile, it is one of possession. She's toying with him. He despises it when she toys with him, though he's pretty damn sure she knows this and it is the reason she keeps doing it. He has found that if he truly wants her to stop behaving in such a way, pretending to be indifferent causes her to stop. She is not interested in indifference, she wants to egg his anger on…make him a monster too.

Finally, as she leans far closer than is necessary to the lyrium bastard, Anders snaps. He stands, storming towards her, the more primitive side of him enjoying the sight of the excitement in her eyes. He growls as he lunges for her, throwing her over his shoulder as he turns for the door. Their companions hardly react, used to the dramatic behaviors of the couple.

Most women would have shouted, or screamed, but Elske laughs…her low throaty chuckle sending a shudder through his frame as he kicks the door to the outside wide open, planning on carrying her back to Hightown and showing her why leaving him for Fenris is an extremely bad decision on her part.

. . .

Elske is a monster, and she knows it. Most assume she hasn't realized how far she's fallen into darkness…how thin the ice she walks on has become, but she is fully aware. She also doesn't give a shit about it. She knew where her life was heading a long time ago, almost from infancy…and is okay with it, has made peace with what has happened. She has embraced her darkness, no desires to fight back.

She sits on the edge of her bed, blankets twisted about her lover's frame behind her. Anders has once again hogged the sheets…she hates it when he does that.

Naked and bloody from their intimacy she stares into the fire, finding an uneasy, fluttery feeling in her stomach that she can't identify…

She turns to watch Anders, almost as bloody as her, sleep. His incredibly thin body stretches from the headboard to the foot of the bed, Elske finding it highly amusing that her apostate is so tall. The blankets twist and wind about his legs, showing off the lean muscles of his back…she leans forward to trace the jagged lines of his new scratches…smiling at the warm, stickiness of his blood. The cuts run in twisting patterns down his back, Elske remembering the ecstasy she received from his pain…although she had soon found Anders quite liked the sensation too.

She remembers him telling her of Justice's lyrium fetish, of how it sings to him. Most of their companions didn't understand what he meant, but Elske does…for blood sings to her in much the same fashion. She lifts her index finger, dripping with Anders' blood, to her face, examining it closely before sticking it in her mouth and sucking the digit clean. Her eyes roll back in her head as she almost moans in pleasure at the flavor…Anders' blood is sweet as nectar, probably because of his spirit companion, but Elske would drain him dry and drink him like wine if she could.

Her connection with the vital fluid is a strange one, but not unpleasant. Blood sustains her far more than any lyrium potion…but it does have its drawbacks.

Looking down at her own body she sighs. Her flesh is always pale as chalk…almost glowing in the dark. Her eyes hold permanent dark circles though she's somewhat covered those with tattoos and her frame is almost impossibly thin. Anders had told her that before he knew she was a blood mage he had thought she was malnourished. Varric called her Bones because he said she reminded him so much of a skeleton.

She is nowhere near as curvaceous and full figured as Isabella, though she makes up for it in skill. She doesn't want Anders to leave her…

That thought makes her freeze…what?!

Soon she knows the fluttery feeling in her stomach and with a slowly building horror turns to the other figure in the bed.

Anders…he's an idiot, a nuisance, the only reason he's in her bed is because he offers protection. Not from templars, she has them eating out of her hand, but from the mage rebellion…Elske has not made any friends among their ranks.

He second guesses her every move, doubting her with everything. There is no trust, no affection, only hatred mixed with a heavy dose of physical attraction…lust.

She didn't know when the mage had started becoming attractive to her, because she was ready to kill him from day one. Constantly whining over his lover slain, though she was quite proud of him when he stabbed the tranquil…

Soon though their fights had become charged with electricity, each insult or poisonous phrase making her shiver, she remembers once having such an aggressive confrontation with him she'd immediately gone to the Hanged Man and screwed Isabela blind, though in her own head she hadn't slept with Isabela…she'd slept with Anders. The pirate knew this, but didn't care…it was just sex.

Elske watches Anders grimace in his sleep, mumbling unintelligible nonsense before pushing his face farther into the pillow.

A wave of tenderness ripples through her body, and before she realizes it she's brushing the blonde hair from his face…he leans into her touch and she recoils, her back slamming against the bedpost.

No…this isn't right, this is Anders…she hates him…doesn't she? The fluttery feeling increases and she stifles a gag.

No, she hates him. She can't afford to love; people like her aren't capable of tender affection. People like her kill and get other people killed, in fact she's pretty sure she's going to end up killing Anders…it's only a matter of time.

Turning back to the fire she feels her body go rigid. He will never know…she'll never tell, yet another burden to add to the pile, another forbidden secret. She has many…and is fully aware that more will be added soon.

. . .

Anders wakes slowly, first enjoying the softness of the feathered pillow his face is pressed against, then cringing as he moves…the new cuts and marks ripping open again as he stretches…groaning at the pain.

His amber eyes seek out Elske, finding her sitting ram rod straight at the edge of the bed, staring into the fire.

"Why are you up?" He asks, his voice devoid of all emotion. He never speaks to her the way he does to others…she doesn't deserve it. She's a monster.

"I'm waiting for you." She growls, turning and pinning him under her, holding his wrists above his head, her nose touching his, "I'm bored."

"So go kick a street urchin, or laugh at a homeless person, or whatever monsters like you do to amuse yourselves…I'm tired." He snaps, struggling against her hold, although he can feel his body react to her…and it makes him sick. Why is he doing this to himself?

Her hips move against him and he arches his back, moaning loudly as she nips his neck, "You don't seem tired…" She purrs, licking one of his newly opened wounds as she kisses down his chest, her blood covered mouth leaving bright red lip stains against his pale flesh.

"Maker but I hate you" He hisses. Her hand grasps the growing bulge in his pants and he growls as she applies pressure.

"The feeling is mutual my abomination…" She punctuates this by biting his stomach, a tiny stab of pain on his lower abdomen, before she takes him into her mouth and he gives up on keeping any shred of dignity he has left.

'You are turning into a pathetic creature'

I know…

. . .

Anders falls back against the pillows, Elske collapsing onto his chest. Both remain silent, listening to the other's heavy breathing.

He stares at the ceiling for what feels like a century, the words he needs to say lodging in his throat, refusing to come out.

"You want something…" Elske murmurs, lifting her head so she can make eye contact. Her chin is sharp and pointed, digging into his sternum.

"Why do you think that?" He snaps, refusing to look her in the eye.

"Because I know you Anders…" She climbs up his body, straddling his torso as her hand fists in his hair, yanking it so that he has no choice but to look up at her, "Now stop avoiding me and ask."

"Why should I?" He snarls, "You'll just laugh and refuse me."

"Why do you chicken out of everything?" She hisses, "You are pathetic…you have so much potential yet you waist it on being a coward!" She leans down to bite him but he shoves her face away, lunging for her until she's now pinned under him.

"Andraste's blood, why do you torment me so?!" He howls in her face.

She moves under him, noticing his small shiver of pleasure, "I'll answer your question with one of mine…why do you let me?" Her eyes are filled with amusement, her smirk cruel.

And Anders has no answer for her…none at all.

Her curiosity and impatience allows him to escape answering that question, "What do you want Anders?" She snaps, her voice colder than snow.

"The templars came dangerously close to the clinic today…I can't stay there much longer…" He makes the mistake of looking at her and inwardly curses himself. Her smile has widened, she knows what he's asking for.

"So you need a new hidey hole to plan your rebellion in I take it?" She purrs, shoving him back and rising to her knees in front of him. He runs his gaze over her naked form, finding her emaciated rib cage fascinating, wondering how in the hell she's able to possess the strength she has. He traces the cuts and scars that crisscross her flesh, dark red and almost black lines against pure white. Most are self inflicted…some are his handy work, but the darker ones…the almost black lines…those were from demons. Elske mainly dealt with Desire and Rage…

"Don't do this Elske…" He finds himself whispering.

"Anders…" She tilts his chin up towards her face, "If you want to stay here you need to say it." His eyes slide closed as he bites his lower lip.

"Elske I'm asking you politely to please not do this."

"No. Now say it…" He opens his eyes and stares into her own, there is no mercy in them…she wants him to beg her, to plead for sanctuary…the bitch.

He sighs, and in a voice as dead as Kristoff's body responds, "Please Elske, I'm begging you…let me stay here, protect me from the templars…I need your help." He feels humiliated…which is exactly what she was hoping for.

Her hands become gentle against his face as she cradles his jaw, "Now that wasn't so hard was it?"

He grits his teeth, digging his nails into her hips. Her lips tighten into a thin line at the pain, "So what is your answer?"

She smirks, her own nails now scraping down his neck and shoulders, "I'll have to think about it."

He throws her down, her head smacking against the headboard, Elske laughing as a trickle of blood runs down her face.

"You're insane!" He cries.

Her laughter eventually dies down, "Are you just figuring this out Anders? You're slower than I thought…"

"Shut up whore."

"Oh I love it when you talk dirty…call me another name." He rolls his eyes, turning towards the fire.

"I was serious about the templars Elske." He says, refusing to look at her. He feels her slide up behind him, her body impossibly warm and even somewhat comforting…though he'd never admit that out loud. Her fingers slide over his skin, raising goosebumps on his flesh as she presses her lips to his ear.

"You're afraid…"

"Yes" He hisses, not liking having to admit it out loud. Her fingers comb through his hair as she kisses right below his ear lobe.

"You can stay here…" She whispers and he leans back against her, all the breath leaving his lungs in a massive sigh of relief.

"Thank you…" He breathes.

Elske is silent for a long time…and Anders begins to worry for when Elske gets silent it's usually not a good thing, "You're welcome." She responds stiffly and the moment turns awkward.

Did Elske actually just do something nice?

He doesn't have time to focus on that as her nails scrape down his back, causing him to cry out in pain as her fingers catch on already opened flesh.

"Now enough of this touchy feely bullshit," She growls, "Are you going to thank me or not?"

He smiles darkly as he turns to her, already the pain of his cuts fading, "You want a more physical sign of my gratitude?" He purrs, and watches her eyes darken in response.

"If you want to live here than yes." She hisses, though the threat is an empty one, he can tell the difference now.

He grabs her ankles and pulls her down to him, bending over her as her legs wrap around his waist, "Then let me thank you properly…" He whispers against her skin, his teeth finding her shoulder and biting down until her blood fills his mouth.

He's not sure how he feels about a deeper relationship with Elske…her earlier tenderness makes him uneasy. He knows almost nothing of love beyond lust…

Love is tricky…but lust? Lust is easy…so they avoid the earlier moment, in favor of distracting themselves with carnal acts of pleasure for a while longer.