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"Are you quite alright, Healer?"

Anders had to check himself to not move away from the healed patient like he had intended. The young woman was looking up at him in worry, the moist rag he gave her to wipe away the blood caked on her face forgotten in her hand. Her other hand had come up slightly, as if intending to check on his temperature but stopping halfway.

"I'm… fine, just a little tired… and hot." He wiped sweat from his brow, giving her a smile that was meant to look comforting. By the frown on her face, he didn't do too well.

"It's not very hot in your clinic, Healer," an old woman piped up behind him. "Maybe you should have a rest too."

"I'm fine," he repeated, a bit more sharply this time. The young woman pouted and the old lady grunted her disapproval - and honestly this was just mean, how dare they manipulate him this effectively with so little effort? "Fine, fine! Out, both of you, so I can take a nap." He gave the eldest a pointed look. "And I better see you back here before the week is over lest you break any more bones."

They both giggled - both young at heart, that's why the old lady kept coming to him with foolish injuries - and left him as he demanded. They closed the door of the clinic behind them, and Anders knew they would be dousing his lantern for him.

That left him alone in a chilly clinic with sweat beading on his forehead like he'd just run through half of Kirkwall.

He muttered a curse under his breath and returned to his desk, rummaging around for a potion that would take care of the most common illnesses that could cause a fever. He wasn't having any of this, not now. If he didn't get to heal any patients he would be writing his manifesto. There was still so much to do, and so little time to do it-

His face twisted in disgust at the smell from the potion as soon as he popped off the cork, and he thrust it out at arm's length.

Had it gone bad? He had never seen this type gone bad before, he never got to keep them that long, but that smell-

Andraste's hairy mound.

He stoppered the bottle with an angry sound as realisation hit him. This wasn't a fever. It was just that time of the year.

It was so easy to forget, with so much time in between. Especially with the winters being warmer here in Kirkwall, he would hardly even notice the seasons change from autumn to winter to… well, mating season.

He entered his private back room to search the crates for a different sort of potion. He should still have some, and that would make the coming days a lot easier. Not that he became an uncontrollable savage, mind you, but it tended to get bothersome real quick if a wrong scent made you shift shapes at random, especially if it happened mid-conversation. It was bad enough just being a mage, he didn't need an angry mob hunting him for being some weird animal demon as well.

Because he wasn't. Weres were rare, but entirely natural. It was simply that they were so rare, the few of them who did get caught shifting tended to be burned at a stake like a fake witch. He would've had the same fate if his mother hadn't protected him, if Karl hadn't known a were before the Circle.

His mother kept him hidden when he had not yet mastered his shifting. Karl had defended him when he went through his first heat in Kinloch Hold, shifting to his cat form and caterwauling loudly for a mate.

Here, he doubted he would be so lucky to have someone to back him up. So he needed that potion to dull his senses and keep him from shifting. He'd look dead on his feet and sleep nearly around the clock, but that was preferable over the risk of being caught.

Or that was the plan.

He cursed again, a little louder, a little more vehemently, when he found the bottles he was looking for shattered at the bottom of a crate. So far for that plan, or maybe if he was lucky, he could hurry and get the ingredients he needed to make the potion before his heat would truly hit.

He grabbed his coat while storming out, not even pausing to lock the clinic behind him. The people of Darktown watched him worriedly as he all but ran past them to get up to Hightown, but he didn't pay them any attention. He could smell their fear, and colours were changing, duller and less vibrant to his eyes the longer he took.

He was an idiot for not having realised sooner. Too focused on his patients, his cause - guess there was one thing Fenris was right about when harping on him and his need for results.

He slipped into an alley just in time to escape prying eyes before everything became a blur.


It was hard to focus in this season, and Fenris had to begrudgingly admit that the wine wasn't helping. He had gotten drunk just the night prior and woken up chewing a bone between his maws that he didn't dare to think of the origin from. He hoped he had hunted in his drunken stupor rather than taking one of the corpses in his hallway.

Considering he didn't get a terrible food poisoning, he figured that his wolf instincts were better than such a mistake.

Still, going out like this was not a good idea, so he'd need to keep control the rest of this heated part of the winter season. He knew control perfectly well, he just had to stay away from the wine.

Danarius had taught him control. He had taught him control beyond what Fenris had dared hope possible, and through sheer willpower he could keep himself from shifting into his wolf form even during a heat. And he had to now, because his master was no longer around to protect him if he got caught. His experience told people didn't react well to an elf shifting to a large wolf, and although that had been exactly Danarius' intention when picking Fenris' as his prized pet, it was a troublesome ability and curse now he was free, much like the lyrium branded into his skin.

During an ordinary day it was only an advantage. He controlled when to shift, so he could use it in his favour.

But not during early mating season. Instincts were just too strong when he was just getting back into it after eight months of respite.

So no alcohol.

Fenris clenched his fists, glaring at the bottles across the room. Something was smelling delicious and spicy and the only thing it could be was the wine. Or so he thought, anyway. What else could smell this nice in this mansion?

With a grunt of disgust he got to his feet and turned around, intent on walking away. Not watching the bottles would help for sure, and-

-he stopped.

The smell did not come from the wine.

He sniffed curiously, mood shifting entirely at the realisation he was smelling something new rather than suffering an unwelcome addiction. He padded forward on soft feet, following his nose, the clank of armour ignored for the sake of wriggling out of constricting pieces of… whatever. No matter, leave it.

Wolf paws now, padding just as softly over broken tiles, nose nearly pressed to the floor as he followed the scent. Down the stairs. Down the hallway. Through a past dining room and a guest room, through a broken window-


Garden was good.

The closer he got, the better it smelled. Fenris had never smelled anything like this before, not since… a distant memory from his first year with the lyrium, when Danarius had been appraising another were slave late in the mating season. Fenris had never smelled another were during mating season - he doubted he met more than a handful in his life, most hiding themselves well lest their rarity be their death.

Could this be a fellow were?

His question was answered when he spotted a bright orange tabby in the back of the unkept garden. Its fur was long and matted, but it was furiously attempting to lick and claw the dust and grime out. It was also smelling like a ripe fruit and fresh meat, and all the delicious things Fenris could think of.

The cat looked up, and he was met with wide honey eyes.

Fenris knew this was a werecat without a doubt. And he wanted him.

The cat rolled over without preamble, taking on a submissive pose for Fenris in clear recognition of what he was. They knew each other and who they were, without an idea of who the person behind this face was. It didn't matter. Fenris had never met anyone quite like this were and he would be damned if he didn't take this chance.

He practically pounced on the cat, scrambling for a hold on its neck to crouch over him, fully intending to mount him right then and there.

But the cat had different ideas.

Before Fenris knew it, the cat was gone, streaking out of the garden into a neighbouring mansion's. Fenris followed him without missing a beat - without even realising what he was doing until several minutes later.

It was too late now, hunting after a cat through the quiet midnight Hightown. A werecat could likely get away pretending he belonged in a city, but a large white wolf was less subtle. He needed to get out of sight, and yet he couldn't stop his legs from moving to follow his mate - potential mate. He needed him, and he needed him now, and why was he such a tease?

The werecat wanted him just as badly as Fenris wanted him, he could see it in his gait, smell it on the air behind him.

He needed to have this mate, and he would follow, despite common sense telling him to stop this right now and get to safety. He could argue that at least the werecat was heading out, away from Hightown and down into the sewers and the caves below Kirkwall. A good point to keep following, if he wasn't simply intoxicated by the werecat's smell.


Anders didn't stop running until he was out of the maze of tunnels below Kirkwall, rushing out onto the coast and to a dead end cave he knew close by.

Without thinking about it, he had headed straight for the closest safe place he knew.

A cave with the entrance hidden from view by thick shrubs, close to Kirkwall but not too close to be heard or seen. A place he hid mages in on the way out when escaping the Gallows. A place he hid himself in when everything became just too much.

A place he could stop and roll over and welcome the werewolf on his heels.

But he wasn't Anders if he was going to let this be over so quick.

If he would allow the wolf to mount him, it would be a matter of minutes until it was over. No, with that handsome beast smelling so delicious, he wanted to draw it out a little longer.

Much longer.

Maker, he could go all night if his partner would be up for it.

Rolling onto his back on the makeshift bed of straw at the back of the cave, he managed to gather just the concentration it took to shift back halfway into human. A rather hairy human with pointy ears on top of his head and a long tail curling around his buttocks invitingly, but with all the main features of a human nonetheless. It was all it would take to make this romp quite pleasurable.

The wolf had stopped running when Anders did, and he stalked forward slowly, a hungry look in his eyes that had nothing to do with the actual consumption of flesh. He shifted like Anders did, enchanting green eyes growing larger and wider as he did, nose flattening and losing its hair.

If Anders would hazard a guess, he'd say he landed himself an elf, but to be honest he had no interest in really trying to figure out the other's identity. Not while he could see a hard, heavy cock hanging from between soft furred thighs, a thick canine knot at the base sending shudders of fear and arousal down Anders' spine.

He meant to call out seductively, but all that came from his lips was a loud purr before the werewolf was on top of him, pinning him in place bodily.

Oh Andraste have mercy, the wolf's fur was baby soft in this form .

Nothing like the rest of the werewolf's body, which was all hard muscle and arousal, rutting against him with a need so intense Anders saw stars. Neither of them had any patience left, not after the long chase Anders had forced the wolf on.

He may want to draw this out, but maybe only after a first round. Right now, he wanted nothing more than that hard cock rammed into his arse.

Anders squirmed to lift his legs, the man above him easily sliding between and rutting up directly against his crotch. It was hot and hard and wasn't going to fit, and Anders only very belatedly realised that neither had any clothes and all the salves and oils in his pockets were currently in an alley in Lowtown.

Luckily his partner seemed to realise the same when he couldn't manage to penetrate with simple mindless rutting.

Anders gasped and mewled at the strength of the werewolf when strong hands gripped him at his calves, the wolf sitting back on his haunches while lifting Anders' arse in the air. Blunt dark nails dug into golden fur where Anders could see it, claws arousing his primal instincts further but worrying his last common sense.

He was not going to get his arse stretched with those claws, not his own, even sharper nails.

The werewolf wasn't planning to though.

He dipped low, and his elven features shifted just a tad back to wolfish for a long tongue to loll out and drag right through the crack of Anders' arse.

Anders' all but squealed in delight and arousal, legs straining against the strong grip keeping them apart, trying to open his legs even further than necessary. The wolf ignored his struggles like no stronger than an infant's, his grip tightening just a little when he dipped down and started licking for real.

Hot, raspy drags of the tongue to soften the skin and heat the muscle, and then he was pressing in and Anders was squirming, gasping, mewling sounds that may sound like 'more'. The wolf had no patience to tease him, and Anders had no patience to be teased, clawing at the hands holding his legs open for the wolf to just hurry up and take him. He needed the edge off, the heat gone for the games to start.

The werewolf didn't take long. He stopped when Anders was surely only halfway stretched, his face shifting back that half inch to normal as he scrambled back and flipped Anders over on his front.

Anders was all too eager too move, the threatening beat of his tail more of a hurry up than a beware, and he was hoisted up on his knees without effort. He arched his back, pressed backwards against the wolf to find the hard shaft of his arousal.

It still wasn't easy, it still wouldn't quite cooperate, but they managed through sheer will and need. Anders hissed dangerously at the painful stretch, his noise answered with a warning growl from over his shoulder, and then it was in.

Full, so perfectly full.

The werewolf started pounding into him without preamble, and Anders was caterwauling beneath him for more, harder and faster. It hurt, but his need was far greater than his discomfort, and he could have the werewolf make it up to him later.

Teeth were worrying the back of Anders' neck, not quite biting, and Anders mewled for the man to do it. Had he let the wolf mount him back in Hightown, he would've been held by the scruff of his neck for sure, but in this state they were on the edge of the instincts demanding that, wanting but unsure if they would slip back further to their animal forms if they did. But Anders wanted it, so he arched his back again to press back into that pounding cock and his neck up against the exploring mouth.

The response was a growl and then teeth sinking into the light fur that trailed down his spine, finding the skin of his neck to lock into without biting through. Being held down like that was exhilarating, pushing all Anders' instincts and making him feel dizzy with desire he couldn't express other than yelling loudly with his catlike voice, unable to form words in his passion. He bumped his arse back against each thrust into him, speeding them up even further than the animalistic pace they were already going at.

It needn't take long like this, not for the first round, and they both knew it. They both wanted it, needed it, craved it.

With a hard thrust the werewolf all but hammered his knot through Anders' sphincter and he cried out loudly, his knees giving out under him at the force. Strong arms held him up around the waist, and it only took one stray touch to his cock for him to spurt his seed all over the straw bed, yelling and mewling and clenching up as orgasm took him over.

When Anders came back to his senses, the werewolf was growling into his neck, hips making small abortive thrusts with his knot locked there and his cock filling Anders up deliciously with his seed.

Anders let himself sag, the arms holding him tight for just a moment longer before he was allowed to sink down onto the straw. Now Anders was aware of dusky skin underneath the white fur, the softness of both under his fingers when he lazily explored what little he could reach of the other's hands and arms while the werewolf was still on top of him and coming.

"Better not waste all of that," Anders mewled, sounding more sated than he had meant to be. "I expect you to take me a few more times tonight."

The new growl was an amused one, and Anders' neck was released from the tight grip of teeth.

He couldn't recognise the elf's voice with the way his half wolf form twisted it, and it was somehow relieving to know they were both doing this in a sort of anonymity. Sure, they were likely the only two weres in Kirkwall, possibly the entire southern Free Marches, but they had not seen each other before tonight either. This could be just a one night stand - maybe a several nights stand for the sake of getting through the mating season - and Anders could get back to do his work in the clinic, pining quietly over someone else he could never have. This was the perfect release.

"You shall be free in fifteen minutes or so," the werewolf promised him with a low, guttural voice.

"And will your balls be shrivelled dry by then or will you be keeping something for later?" Anders gave a toothy grin that the werewolf would not be able to see, but then his partner shifted, his knot tugging on Anders' rim sharply with the movement.

"I'll hold you some back for later," the werewolf chuckled, and Maker if that growling wolf voice wasn't incredibly arousing.

It was only after the wolf's knot finally went down and Anders could slip away from underneath him that he saw the other had been gripping the base of his cock and balls to stem the flow, and he grinned hungrily. He didn't mind the sharp canines peeking out between his lips, not when the wolf mirrored his grin with one of his own.

"Let me have a slower round this time," Anders mewled seductively, crawling up to the elf with a lick of his lips. The other rolled on his side invitingly, pawing at the small of Anders' back as soon as he came in reach, pulling him closer to lick at the patch of golden fur on Anders' shoulder.

"Gladly, as long as I get to hear you purr under me again while we wait for my knot to release."

"You like the purring?" Anders purred purposely, straddling the werewolf's hips and smoothing his hands over the thick soft pelt of chest hair, down the almost naked stomach and to a teasing touch over the fold between hips and thighs.

"Cats are adorable when they do." The touches were returned, the golden fur on his own chest explored and the line drawing down to the thick patch of curlier pubes followed delicately with thick clawed fingers. This guy sure knew how to be careful with sharp nails, and it pleased Anders infinitely.

He rolled his hips, rubbing his smooth perineum over the dark cock below him, feeling it twitch slightly with interest.

"You're so soft," Anders purred, fingers carding through the soft white fur and drawing sharp nails lightly down the elf's belly again.

"You're a tease," the other supplied with an appropriately wolfish grin.

"Fuck me again." Anders leaned over, blowing a hot breath into a twitching, triangular ear on the elf's head. He was rewarded with those strong hands - warrior hands, if you asked him - wrapping around his waist to pull him back down on the werewolf's hips, accompanied with a hard grind upwards to all but bruise Anders' thighs with the force. He mewled happily in response, fluttering his eyelashes coquettishly at the wolf.

The elf's face fell slightly when they seemed to both realise at the same time that his cock wasn't quite ready for round two.

Well, Anders could fix that up alright.

He scooted back to lay himself comfortably over the other's legs, squirming happily to revel in the feeling of the places where soft white fur brushed against naked skin, and the other way around. He was being watched with wide, hopeful eyes now so Anders winked and wrapped his hand around the base of the werewolf's cock, trying to fit his fingers around the knot carefully. Without it being fully hard, it was manageable to reach around the knot, but Anders doubted he would still be able to do this once he got the other properly excited again. Not that he minded, he just needed to watch his nails on such delicate skin.

Delicate, velvety soft skin that had Anders purring with delight, and he just lightly rubbed the base of the werewolf's cock with his hand before finally dipping down and giving the head a small lick, without losing the contact with those beautiful wide green eyes.

The effect was instant: eyes rolled back and the elf's head dropped backwards, the cock twitching heavily in Anders' hand.

"Delicious," he purred, licking it again, teasing and purposely mean. He copied the trick the werewolf had used earlier, shifting his face just a tad back to more catlike so he could use his cat tongue. The next little lick had the wolf arch of the ground with a surprised bark.

Anders couldn't help himself, giggling at the reaction and letting his face shift back. "Too much, I gather?"

"Too much," the werewolf agreed, voice shuddering deliciously.

Anders lapped apologetically at the head again with his now human tongue, soothing away the raspy feeling he must've left before. He wasn't entirely cruel, just a little bit.

Or a big bit, because he could lick and tease like this forever, feeling his partner's cock grow thick and heavy under his ministrations in a matter of minutes. The werewolf was whimpering for more by the time he was fully hard, and Anders was curiously wrapping and unwrapping his fingers around the heavy knot to feel how thick and hard it was.

"Y-you teased enough-"

Anders smirked and licked again with a non-committal sound. When that resulted in a warning growl from the wolf, he finally closed his lips around the head for a good firm suck.

Sadly, he wouldn't be able to do much more, not in this form. He was bound to wound his partner with his sharp teeth if he tried to give him proper head. So he pulled off with a pop, put one last lick down and then crawled back up the elf's body.

When the werewolf realised Anders was stopping, he gave him a fierce glare. Anders bared his teeth apologetically, and although understanding flashed over the other's face, the wolf was clearly not about to forgive his relentless teasing.

Which was arousing, because that's what Anders had been aiming for, but on the other hand the cat in him didn't take kindly in being blamed for anything. So rather than squirming into the werewolf's arms for his well deserved 'punishment', he squirmed out. And the wolf may be strong; cats were slippery creatures when they wanted to get out.

Anders slipped out of the strong arms easily, hopping just out of reach for the elf and settling on his haunches, back to his partner. With a haughty little huff he started to card fingers through his tangled hair, combing out the knots and mats from his long days working in the clinic without a chance to bathe.

There was a beat of silence while he cleaned himself up, supposedly while the wolf tried to figure out what just happened, before he found a hand questioningly pawing at his back. Anders sat up a little straighter with another small huff, rubbing the fur on the side of his neck with dainty strokes that wouldn't really clean anything.

"You felines are feisty little beasts."

Anders chirped in laughter and jumped up to flee, but the werewolf was faster, or prepared, or both.

He was caught around the waist and tackled to the floor, and even though he squirmed and struggled, laughing under the other, he wasn't allowed to get away again. The wolf pressed his face into the nape of Anders' neck to inhale deeply, causing shudders of arousal to run down Anders' spine and making him buck. His bucking was answered with a sharp nip of teeth and a possessive growl.

And by the Maker's hairy balls, such a possessive sound should not turn Anders on this much.

He would later blame the heat, because even though the edge had been taken off by their earlier coupling, they were still both very much here to mate and listen to their instincts.

He succumbed to the possessive clinging and nipping more easily than he should, letting the wolf lave him with attention he should really be keeping for an actual female to mate. A tongue lapped lovingly over his fur to clean him where he had failed to do so himself earlier, hands exploring his body with a sudden intimacy that Anders hadn't expected. He trembled and whimpered under the attentions, the low purring starting in his chest impossible to stop.

A pleased little hruff came in response to the purr, and his partner, his mate, kept on the attentive little touches, arousing Anders more than his teasing licks could've done.

Oh. This was revenge.

He whimpered plaintively for more attention when he realised, and the werewolf lifted just enough to smirk at him, teeth bared for just a second before he was back to licking at Anders' neck, on the other side this time.

"You're teasing me back," he complained, thrashing under the wolf for a moment before going limp again. "You're not supposed to tease! You're not allowed to tease!"

"Not teasing."

Anders pouted, arms wrapping around the werewolf to card through the baby soft fur there. "It sure feels like teasing to me."

He was all but ripped away to be rolled over again, flat on his stomach when the elf pressed bodily down on his back.

"So you prefer it hard, like before?" Despite the growled question, he was licked quite gently in the spot right behind where his human ear would've been, had his ears not been twitching furry and catlike higher on his head. Teeth gently scraped against the skin as the werewolf made his way up, making Anders tremble and moan with need as he used his teeth to scratch behind his ear properly now.

"I-I just thought- you would- mmyyaahh-" he broke off in a wail at the sudden reappearance of that hard cock to the sensations bestowed upon him, thighs tensing to spread and accommodate the heavy member between them. He received a few thrusts between his legs like that, the drag of the knot on sensitive skin maddening, before the other rolled them to their side where he would no longer be crushing Anders.

Anders' one leg was lifted up in the air with a grip that once again brooked no argument, and the werewolf scooted close behind him to press against his arse, and then carefully in.

Trembling, Anders tried to press back, expecting his partner to slam in any moment - but no, he took his sweet time this round. Anders was penetrated with a care he remembered only vaguely from long ago with Karl, and he had to snap his jaw shut quickly to keep an unexpected sob from escaping.

Whatever his mate heard, he immediately tried to soothe Anders with more gentle licks and kisses over his neck, a soft, reassuring rumble rising from the other's chest.

"B-bite me, take me," Anders gasped. His pleas fell to deaf ears with the werewolf now clearly intent on doing this right, doing this lovingly as a mate.

They weren't mates. They were just two people fucking the heat out of the mating season. Anders didn't even know the man's name.

"Fuck me!" He demanded this time, and the wolf seemed to be startled by the hiss in his voice.

"Mating instincts." He was offered as explanation, and then teeth finally sunk into the scruff of his neck again and the thrusts became sharper, harder. Not as rough as before in the first time around, but clearly meant to offset the too gentle pace of earlier.

Of course his mate would regret it when Anders hissed at him like that. Anders wasn't here to bond, he was here to get fucked. He just wanted a mate, he just wanted to love, but that was not an option. Getting fucked was what he could get, and that's what he would take.

You do not love a mage, nevermind a monster.

He gasped and mewled, not half as excited anymore, but the werewolf was at least doing his best. Anders reached down to grab his own cock, stroking it in time with the pace of the cock thrusting into him, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the tip to take his mind off foolish thoughts.

His calf was momentarily released, the wolf's hand wrapping around his own to give him a few firm strokes. Once again too intimate, too loving, but time was easier. Somehow this reminded him more of… no, he shouldn't think of him either.

Anders arched his back and mewled in pleasure, gripping his own thigh to keep it up in the air like the werewolf had held it earlier, allowing the other to keep his rhythm without slipping out. It felt dirtier like this, and Anders preferred it.

The hand on his cock released him to rub down the crease of his groin, kneading the inside of his thigh and using it as extra leverage to make the thrusts harder and deeper. Anders only had to tilt his hips just so and-

Maker, oh Maker-

He cried out loudly, nearly releasing his leg as the sensation of his prostate being hit dead-on overwhelmed him. The pleasurable rub from before became a hammer on ecstasy as the werewolf figured out what he'd done and repeated the motion.

Repeated and repeated with every. Last. Sharp. Thrust.

Anders' eyes rolled back in his head, and he was mewling and caterwauling alternately. Before he was even aware of how far gone he was, he was spilling over the floor beneath him, just gasping a mewl at the knot once again being slammed in by force to lock in place a second time.

Too good, too full, it was better than anything Anders had ever experienced. He had never known he needed this during a heat so bad, and here it was in all its perfection.

It was all the hard sex and sweet love making and pretend mating he wanted and needed, and tender kisses and possessive growls as they came down from their high, locked together like the proper mates they weren't. Anders could doze off safely in the arms of his mate like he'd dreamt of since Karl.

But it could only last for so long. When Anders woke up in the morning, he was alone on the bed of straw, covered by one of the ratty blankets that he kept stored in this cave. There was no werewolf in sight apart from tufts of soft white fur that he must've pulled out during their repeated coupling the night prior.

Upon sitting up he found he was back in his fully human form, not having realised he shifted during the night. Must have happened during his sleep… No wonder his mate left in a hurry before he could wake up.

Anders sighed, getting up stiffly and wrapping his blanket around himself. He still felt hot, but his heat wasn't half as bad as it usually was. Figures that good sex could cure it better than a potion.

Now if only heartbreak wouldn't undo this magic cure. It was bad enough to have one unrequited crush, he wasn't ready for a second one on a guy whose name he didn't even know.

Still, it would seem he had a type these days. Strong elven men with white hair and dark skin… Anders dropped that train of thought where it started. He was only going to hurt himself thinking about it, and he needed to get home stark naked without knowing where his clothes were. He didn't trust himself to shift to cat form during this season anymore.

This was going to be a tough mating season.


It was exactly a year later when Fenris showed up on Anders' porch, wordlessly beckoning him to follow. The elf had been awfully nice the past year, so Anders followed without suspicion, even when the other refused to tell him where they were going.

Even when Fenris refused to give so much as a hint when they left Kirkwall, descending down to the coast. Anders assumed Fenris found someone there who needed a healer, or wanted to speak to him in private. What else could Fenris want him all the way out here for?

He was feeling hot, mildly feverish and frighteningly turned on when Fenris finally stopped, pushing aside a couple of bushes to reveal the entrance to a cave he was quite certain he had never shared with any of Hawke's friends. A cave reminding him that the mating season started and that was why he was so hot and bothered and shouldn't be here to potentially ruining what he'd built with Fenris-

He was given a toothy, albeit apologetic, smile and Anders' knees all but buckled.

"My apologies for fleeing the last time, I was overwhelmed when I..." he broke off hesitantly, before visibly starting over again with a renewed cheeky grin. "Care to mate properly this year, mage?"