Even with chains broken, Fenris has wondered how long it will be before he feels free. He's spent far more time trying to get past what was done to him rather than make any attempt at reclamation, forever thinking of his body as a tool, a weapon, a source of pain, proof of his survival.

A sharp, startled cry escapes him as Astarion draws him deeper. He lifts his hips, unthinking as he chases that feeling. He's not stopped and he can feel an exhale against his skin. Fenris shivers, goosebumps rising as Astarion reveals more skin, more marks. One hand drags away from the bed to push through the other man's pale hair, gripping harder than he means to as his throat works. His head falls back as Astarion takes him as deep as he can, drawing back just enough that Fenris can feel it when he bobs down again.

Fenris mutters another breathless curse as he tries to find a rhythm with Astarion. He lacks the grace of experience, but it's difficult to deny the momentum of his desire. Heat pours through him and he draws his legs up, bending them to allow his pants to slide lower with Astarion's guidance.