bakerstreet | Asylum Meme

Asylum Meme

Meme, Interrupted

"People ask, How did you get in there? What they really want to know is if they are likely to end up in there as well. I can't answer the real question. All I can tell them is, It's easy."

Well, you've really done it now. You're in a mental institution. Maybe it's a modern facility with a therapy garden, compassionate staff members, and a warm environment meant to help nurse people back to health, or maybe it's a glorified dungeon where the government shoves people they don't want to deal with and patients are abused by staff. Regardless of what it is, you're there, and it doesn't look like they're planning on letting you out any time soon.

Maybe you're actually not supposed to be there and you're trying to arrange for your release. Maybe you actually are meant to be there and you're struggling with your illness. Maybe you're not a patient at all and you're just there to visit or earn your paycheck. It's up to you.

Rules:

1. Post with your character's name, canon, and your preferences on the subject bar, and set up the situation.
2. Tag other people. Are you a visitor? A staff member? A fellow patient? A hallucination? It's your choice.
3. Have fun!

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[ Hawke laughs again, at his impatience - although he's no less so, himself. Slow and easy never has been his style, anyway, he supposes. His hands fall away reluctantly, and he flattens one to Anders' chest, instead, pushing him gently back. The other Hawke winds up in the hem of his greying-colorless smock, tugging the offending article up over his head with a twist of his arm.

Perfectly shameless, he leans back into the wall, clearly showing off as he drops his shirt to the floor. He looks twice as solidly built, without the loose hang of drab fabric to obscure it, only a little soft around the middle (and certainly not in a way that detracts from the rest of him). The same dark hair that dusts his arms - and, quite a bit more liberally, his jaw - covers his chest in a wide swath that trails all the way down past his navel. And undoubtedly further, though the unflattering cut of his pants leaves the rest up to imagination, at least.

Reaching out, Hawke hooks a finger in the loose collar of Anders' shirt and gives it a sharp tug. ] I trust you don't get to keep all of your clothes on, in this fantasy?

[Anders can't help but blatantly stare as Hawke undresses. At least he manages to keep from drooling. He always knew Hawke was built, but somehow the real thing is even better than he had expected. His eyes follow that trail all the way down Hawke's torso, stopping at the waistband to imagine what's hidden just behind that thin layer of fabric. Anders reminds himself that they still have enough time, and they'll get there eventually. No need to rush.

Hawke's voice finally snaps him out of his brief daydream. Anders lifts his eyes back to the other man's face with a little smirk.] Of course not.

[He eagerly removes his own shirt, revealing a body not quite as impressive as Hawke's, yet he's still in fairly decent shape. It's difficult to find opportunities to exercise in such a sedentary place like this, but he tends not to eat too much, which helps keep a fairly slender form.

As soon as his shirt hits the ground, Anders reaches out a hand to more closely admire Hawke's torso. He slides it slowly down the other man's chest and abs, finally resting it low on his hip, fingers absently toying at the waistband. It's tempting to keep going, but Anders decides to slow down and return the favor for all Hawke's teasing.] All right, then. What's next?

[ The fascination is mutual, if little else. Hawke is no more disappointed by the sudden wealth of bare skin than Anders, his gaze purely appreciative as it lingers low before sweeping slowly back up to meet Anders'. The hand fidgeting at the low waist of his pants certainly doesn't hurt matters any, either, his skin prickling pleasantly at the novelty of someone else's touch (of wanting someone else's touch, another feeling he'd almost forgotten).

He isn't hesitating to indulge in a little more than a look, either, pulling Anders back into the circle of his arms with warm, plying hands at his waist. ]

For starters, how about a little more of this? [ Hawke presses in for another kiss as he answers, pulling Anders flush against him - an entirely different sensation with none of that itchy, threadbare cloth between them. Or next to none, at any rate. And Hawke kisses him soundly, deep and thorough, as his hands roam, as if testing the reality against whatever he'd imagined (though it's really no comparison).

The only hitch in his greedy bid to commit all of this new territory to memory comes with the echoing, slightly muffled clatter of some minor commotion out in the hall - a sharp reminder of their precarious position. Hawke starts, his kiss turning slow and distracted as he tries to shoot a look toward the door without actually having to pull away. But even with his heart racing from more than just the slide of so much bare skin on his, double-checking that they're safe hardly seems worth it, if he has to stop to do it. ]

[Anders presses himself snugly against Hawke, but he certainly doesn't mind the other man holding him there. In an attempt to leave as little space between them as possible, Anders slowly rolls his hips against Hawke, resulting in a soft, involuntary groan muffled by the kiss.

He almost doesn't notice the disturbance outside until Hawke slows down a bit. It gives Anders a moment's pause, but he figures that at this point, it's useless to be worried about anything going on out in the hall.] Don't mind that. No one has any reason to come in here.

[Even if Anders is wrong about that, there's not much they could do if someone decided to walk in. However they tried to recover, it's likely the orderlies would figure out what they're up to anyway, so they might as well continue and hope for the best. While getting caught would definitely not be good, the riskiness of the situation only increased Anders' adrenaline.

Eager to keep things going, he does his best to ignore the noise as he kisses along Hawke's jaw, trailing his way down the other man's neck.]

Well-- [ Hawke begins, his chest already hitching against Anders' with barely suppressed laughter, ] That's not entirely true.

[ His rather tragic sense of humor aside, though, the awkward tension of the moment has already passed, drawn out of Hawke as much by the slow return to softer background noise as Anders' concentrated effort to put them back on track. Hawke sighs, letting his head fall back against the wall to bare more of his throat to the warm track of Anders' mouth, content for just a bit to lie back and let him explore.

More or less, anyway. Hawke's hands never quite still, smoothing over every exposed inch of the body pressed into his. In spite of all their hurry, all the ways this could end badly in a matter of seconds, he has an easy, comfortable touch, the lightly calloused pad of a thumb teasing a nipple taut while his other hand takes a firm grip on Anders' ass, urging him forward into another slow grind against his thigh. They can't afford to make much noise, either, but it's impossible to resist trying to draw out another of those surprised groans - even if Anders manages to muffle it again, with his busy mouth. ]

[Anders pauses to bite gently at Hawke's skin, though he's careful not to be so rough that he leaves a mark. It would be best to avoid any suspicious bruising that might raise questions with the orderlies. He curls his fingers in Hawke's chest hair as he trails his lips further down, while his other hand absently traces the curve of his hip.

Just as his lips brush against Hawke's collar bone, he gasps sharply at the other man's touch. Anders knows that he must remain silent, but it's already proving a more difficult task than he had realized. The cheap fabric of their pants doesn't hide much as he continues moving against Hawke, unable to stifle another soft moan.

Meanwhile, Anders' hand trails further down his companion's hip. His fingers tentatively graze over the front of Hawke's trousers as he glances upward, watching for a reaction.]

[ It really is too bad they have to take such care. That delicate edge of teeth nipping at his throat is too little to spark more than a stir of frustrated pleasure just as light, and Hawke would happily admit to entertaining the purely selfish desire to leave a trail of wet, red bruises from Anders' throat to the jut of his hip (or maybe a lot further), in turn, now that he's finally gotten him undressed. Partially. But about a hundred hickeys would be just as impossible to hide - not to mention explain away - as the distinctive mark of a bite.

(Maybe someday, he thinks, and the thought is warm and bright in a way it has no right to be, with cement-grey walls still boxing them in.)

But there are still plenty of things they can do that won't leave such damning evidence behind. Like this, for instance - Hawke nudges his thigh between Anders' legs, hand still guiding his hips (as much as groping) as he encourages him to keep rocking into that firm muscle. For once, it's not such a bad thing to be dressed so thinly, so plainly; he can feel the effect their few simple, shared touches have already had pressed right up against him.

Not that he has any room to comment, a sound just too soft to be a groan catching in his throat as Anders' fingers skim over him oh so lightly. When he looks up, Hawke nods almost imperceptibly, something earnest under his cheeky grin. His idle hand drops to catch Anders', folding over it and pressing Anders' palm to the increasingly obvious shape of his cock through the fabric of his pants. ] Not getting bashful on me now, are you, Anders? Or is it that you're always this much of a tease?

[Even through the fabric of the pants, Anders can easily see that Hawke's arms aren't the only impressive muscles on his body. With a firm grip, he continues at a steady pace, moving his hand in time with the rocking of his own hips. Feeling his legs slowly begin to weaken, Anders leans into Hawke for more support, resting his forehead against a shoulder.]

And I thought I was being impatient. [He attempts a light chuckle, but his breath is shaky from the deliberate effort to keep from making any loud noises. As amazing as this has been so far, he can't help but imagine how much better this could be without any limitations.

It doesn't take long before Anders grows tired of the remaining clothing still in their way. There's no hesitation this time as he slips his hand past Hawke's waistband, grazing his fingers appreciatively over the other man's arousal. Eager as he may be, Anders still takes his time, slowly rubbing his thumb over the head. Despite the need to keep silent, he can't resist attempting to push that limit a bit and make that effort a bit more difficult for Hawke.]

[ Hawke's only response to that is another laugh, low and throaty - and with just the whisper of a groan beneath it, as Anders takes the hint, stroking him through that thin, bare cloth as he ruts against Hawke's thigh. It's already too little contact, and they've just barely begun this (not that Hawke has any high-minded ideas of his own stamina outlasting all of this fumbling eagerness, after so long). But simply thrusting Anders' hand down the front of his pants would have been just marginally too crude, even for him.

When Anders goes ahead and does it himself, though, Hawke's certainly got no complaints. His hips rock forward into the gentle brush of his fingers, and he bites his lip hard to keep down the keening, plaintive noise that slips past anyway. It sounds a little like Anders and a lot more like keep going. But that careful, almost contemplative touch is not what he wants, and rather than plead (any more than that whisper of a sound already counts for), Hawke opts to lead by example.

His own fingers untangle themselves hastily from where he's fisted them unconsciously in Anders' shirt, both arms around his back again as Anders leans into him, and Hawke stills his hips with a markedly unsteady nudge. Then both of his hands are tugging down Anders' equally ill-fit pants, and he hesitates only to smooth his palms down those long, slim thighs, fingers splayed to touch as much as he can - before he has Anders in the tight circle of his fist, drawing it out in a slow, firm stroke. ] Like this, [ Hawke murmurs, lips brushing the edge of Anders' ear, and he picks up the pace, quick and decidedly impatient. ]

[As grateful as Anders is for this even happening at all, he still feels a bit selfish that they can't have even more. He barely catches Hawke muttering his name and only wishes he could hear it even louder. It's not so hopless, though, he reminds himself. Anders is sure they can catch up on anything they're missing once they finally escape this place, especially including using a real bed instead of remaining confined to the blind spot in the corner of his cell.

Feeling Hawke release his grip, Anders feels just a moment of disappointment at the loss of the contact before realizing exactly what Hawke is up to. There's no resistance as Hawke moves the bothersome fabric out of the way. As Anders feels that hand closing around him, he responds with a moan slightly louder than he had intended.] Makers breath...

[Anders doesn't need to be told twice. He eagerly bucks up into Hawke's fist while increasing the pace with his own hand. In an attempt to stifle more noises, he buries his face against Hawke's neck as they move together. As much as he wants to savor this, Anders can't resist urging things along even further. Attempting to speak between gasps of air, his voice is a bit shaky as he urges Hawke on.] Hawke, I-- I want you closer.

Shh. [ Hawke chides him gently, a tease that's purely hypocritical with his own ragged pant filling his ears, matched only by the rapid beat of his pulse. It seems impossible that they can still be so easily obscured from the outside world of the facility, how anyone passing by can't hear them as loud and clearly as he does, as they struggle for silence and fall under a quiet rush of noise anyway.

And there have been plenty of opportunities for them to get caught, too - again, the faraway ambient sounds of life as usual proceeding all around them draw Hawke irritably out of the moment. Even after the long handful of years he's spent in captivity, he's still too used to the casual paranoia of being found out, and though a little bit of risk has never been much of a turn-off, for him, that kind of tension has never been particularly exciting, either. It gets under his skin, reminds him that he doesn't only have himself to worry about, in this.

Luckily, Anders is far more distracting than any of his concerns, and that desperate plea dispels the moment's worry entirely, driving his focus back to the sharp, sweet ache Anders is doing his damnedest to push to its breaking point. Even if he's not entirely aware. But that hoarse, wavering tone Hawke's only ever imagined hearing before does things to him, at least as much the culprit for the way Hawke's hips jerk out of their quick, steady rhythm, his cock twitching hard in Anders' grip, as the hand working hastily between his thighs.

His lips part on the intent to protest (how much closer can they get, like this?), but all that Hawke manages is another keening groan, soft under the rough cadence of his breath. And by then he's changed his mind, too, sliding back against the wall just far enough to slip his leg out from between Anders', tugging him close again with a hand on his hip before he can feel the loss. The move pulls them flush together, Hawke grinding his hips greedily into Anders' as he fumbles his hand around them both. ]

[Anders clenches his jaw in an attempt to prevent himself from making any more noises. Though he has proven many times in the past that he isn't afraid to be caught breaking any rules, this is one occasion where he actually is worried for the consequences. The methods of discipline in this place are always miserable, but Anders manages to withstand it. This time, however, there's Hawke's well-being to consider, and on top of that, the orderlies would be able to use this newly discovered relationship as leverage over them.

At this point, though, he barely even considers the noise out in the hall. There are much better things to concentrate on right here. He loves every reaction he has received from the other man. With each of Hawke's groans, it makes Anders feel as though his insides decided to suddenly rearrange. All this only encourages him to move more quickly and impatiently.

As they shift slightly, Anders joins his hand with Hawke's and hooks his free arm around the other man's shoulders to keep himself pulled as close as possible. He whines softly in approval as he leans in to press their lips together once again, hoping to muffle any other noises that might slip out. There's a sense of haste and impatience behind his kiss, emphasized by the way Anders needily jerks his hips against Hawke.

It's well past the point of trying to savor the moment. Anders isn't likely to forget this, anyway. There's only one thing he needs, and he's certain that he has made it very clear. Between his soft, yet eager groans and desperate writhing against Hawke, Anders continues enthusiastically working towards their release.

[ There's no mistaking the less than subtle shift in their rhythm, the sudden spike of urgency that blots out any hope of prolonging this. Or any want to. The more Anders bucks into him, unsteadied by his own desperation, the more of those soft, needy sounds spill from his lips, crushed between their mouths but never completely silenced, the less Hawke can think of anything but giving him what he wants.

It's quick and sloppy and not particularly comfortable, but it's still incredibly satisfying when Hawke feels that intimately familiar tension begin to cinch tight in him, drawing him taut as a bowstring. When he recognizes the echo of it so clearly in Anders' every sympathetic response to all of this clumsy, frenzied need. The hand Hawke isn't using to stroke them both in and out of time with the short, stuttering thrusts of his hips winds itself back into Anders' hair, not quite pulling as Hawke presses him into another deep, rough kiss. One that he breaks just as abruptly, not with another moan or a shout but a sharp, shuddering gasp as he comes, hot and slick, over both their hands.

The wave of overwhelming sensation crests, ebbing almost immediately, but he slows with it only for an instant - still stroking, still rolling his hips into Anders' as he chases the pleasant aftershocks, not ready to let the feeling fade so quickly. Nor to let go of Anders, clinging to him tightly as he shudders through the last of his climax. ]

[Anders wants to make this moment last, yet at the same time, feels a desperate need for his release. At this rate, he doesn't think that he can hold out much longer, and he can tell that Hawke is likely just as close.

Being pressed so closely together, Anders can feel the light throbbing as the other man finally hits his peak. Between that and the warmth of his release spilling over their hands and along his length, its certainly enough to drive Anders over the edge as well. Just a couple more thrusts with his hips, and he finally reaches his climax as well. He buries his face against Hawke's shoulder, muffling a low groan as he continues rolling his hips into their hands, slowly winding down.

Feeling extremely unsteady on his legs, Anders continues to hold onto Hawke for support. He keeps his head rested on the other's shoulder while he tries to catch his breath. Unsure of what to say - if he even should say anything - Anders decides to simply leave light kisses along Hawke's neck, nuzzling against the bristle of his beard.]

[ The silence, for once, is not something Hawke attempts immediately to thwart. In a moment, he'll think of something cheerfully inane to say; in a moment, he'll have to bend and swipe his shirt up off the floor and ruin it in a lazy effort to mop them both up. But for now, he stays where he is, one arm looped low around Anders' back to hold him up (even though Hawke's leaning on the wall at least as much as Anders is on him), listening to the counterpoint of catching breaths and returning that slow, gentle affection as he turns in to the soft trail of lips along his throat.

Absentminded praise flits through his pleasantly disjointed thoughts as his lips brush a temple, but only his breath catches in Anders' ear as he works his way lower, pressing slow, gentle kisses to every inch of bare skin in reach. He'd kiss every bit of him, but moving any further still seems like an impossible task, even when the evening beat of his heart stops echoing in his throat, when the world steadies and settles again and the first vestiges of genuine discomfort begin to set in. He doesn't want to give this up, and that terrible selfish part of him seizes possessively on that thought, prompting him out of his silence.

And it's no careless non-sequitur that breaks it, after all, but a rough-edged promise, ] I'm with you. No leaving without me this time, all right?

[With a soft, pleased sigh, Anders leans back slightly, tilting his head to allow Hawke easier access. He moves his free hand down the other man's chest, enjoying his last moments of exposed skin before they have to put their shirts back on.

He doesn't want to part from Hawke. If he could, he'd invite Hawke to stay the night, but he knows that would never be possible in this place, especially since the doctors and orderlies took regular roll call. For now, he'd have to be satisfied with stealing these moments whenever they have the chance, until they could escape together.]

Freedom would be worthless if it meant leaving you behind. [It's such a cheesy thing to say. Anders can hear it as soon as the words leave his mouth, but he doesn't regret it because it's true.] But I'm sure I'd eventually find a way to come back for you. [The wry smile on his face clearly shows he's only teasing with that last statement. He wouldn't dare think of another escape attempt without Hawke.]

[ He could get used to this, too - the look, the sound of actual contentment (however brief, however fleeting) is another nice change from Anders' usual. Even if ever truly leaving this place behind is nothing but a cruel joke they're telling themselves, a build-up for a letdown, this is worth it. This he won't regret, whatever else is left for them.

Hawke is gentle as he disentangles himself, soft as the laugh that escapes him as he slides down the wall, leaning Anders against it instead. ]

Ah, now it all makes sense. [ His fingers catch in the rumpled fabric of his discarded shirt after a moment's blind searching, too busy leaving a trail of ticklishly light kisses across the bare expanse of Anders' thigh to look where he's reaching. ] You only get caught because you can't bear to be away from me.

[ He still feels lazy as he moves, slow and languid, but getting them back order and squared away again in the land of plausible deniability has once again, regrettably, leapt to the position of top priority. Which doesn't necessarily stop him from teasing back, but it does mean he has to do so while making himself useful, straightening them up. Making them... At least sort of presentable, again. He'll have to tuck in his shirt, using the ends to wipe up the worst of the mess between them. That's doable. But there's no help for the thoroughly mussed state of Anders' hair - or the pretty, flushed glow he's still unwittingly wearing. (Not that Hawke's any more concerned with that than he is enjoying it.) ]

There are much better ways to get my attention, you know.

[Anders knows they ought to start straightening up, but he still doesn't care to move just yet, and the trail of kisses down his thigh aren't any help in motivating him to move. After a moment, he finally forces himself to push away from the wall and bends down to pull up his pants and pick up his shirt.

Using their clothing to clean up the mess doesn't bother Anders. With the help of some "accidentally" spilled juice, he expects they could easily summon a fresh change of clothes. He's more concerned about whether the rest of himself is isn't so suspiciously disheveled. Anders fusses with his hair, hoping it doesn't look significantly more unkempt than usual.]

But it still worked, apparently. [He hadn't intended to impress anyone by his escape attempts, but if that is what helped get Hawke to notice him, he can't be mad about all his past failures.

To Anders, though, freedom isn't just some silly dream. If he didn't believe it was possible, he wouldn't risk the punishment so many times. Now that Hawke is in the picture, freedom has a new meaning, making Anders feel even more determined than ever. There's still a lot of planning to be done, but he truly believes two can succeed where he failed alone.]

So you think.

[ Hawke watches him fidget with his hair as he redresses, hasty and careless, with a very self-satisfied smile on his lips. He'll probably have to make a concerted effort to tone it down, once he's back in view of the rest of the world, out of the moment's private little bubble - they can make themselves as neat and tidy as humanly possible, but if anyone catches Hawke looking at him like that, they're liable to get just as caught.

For now though, it's safe, and Hawke leans forward to kiss his cheek, nosing against the sharp prick of stubble there. (Just one more, before he has to remember what self-control is.) ]

Maybe I've just got a thing for willowy blondes with beautiful, dark eyes and absolutely no sense of self-preservation.

You should have said something sooner. It would have saved me a great deal of trouble.

[Anders smiles softly, enjoying these last moments before they have to carry on as usual. It's tempting to pull Hawke into another deeper kiss, but Anders doesn't want to push his luck any further. It's already going to be difficult enough going back out there and pretending as if nothing happened.

Although it is time to go back to "reality," Anders doesn't expect this will be their last encounter.] Hopefully I won't have to wait so long until next time. [He doesn't mean to sound too presumptuous, but it's a safe guess that Hawke most likely feels the same.]

I've been 'saying something' for weeks. You're just terribly hard of hearing.

[ Or impossibly, stubbornly insecure. Maybe some of both. But it's not like any of the details really matter, anymore. Thinking ahead is where Hawke intends to spend all his effort, now. If not all that far ahead, just yet.

He reaches up to tuck a wayward lock of blond hair behind Anders' ear, one that's escaped his valiant attempts to right himself out of disarray entirely - and now he really will stop touching him, Hawke promises himself. Honestly. ]

How's tomorrow for you? I meant it when I said I'd thought of a few ways to pass the time. Now I'm feeling twice as eager to try the rest.

[Perhaps insecurity did have a bit to do with it. Anders wasn't completely oblivious to Hawke's flirting, but he hadn't been entirely sure if it was sincere or just innocent teasing. It was also a matter of Anders trying to convince himself that expressing this sort of interest could only end poorly, but it had become impossible to resist any longer. It's a decision Anders most certainly does not regret.

At the suggestion they try something new tomorrow, Anders raises an eyebrow in interest, trying not to appear too eager, but he can't hide the grin on his face. He's also had plenty of time to think about what he'd like to do with Hawke and is just as eager to do whatever they can together.] Just tell me where I should meet you.

[He trusts Hawke enough not to question what these other ideas may involve. Plus, Anders likes the idea of a little surprise. Not knowing what to expect would only make it even more enjoyable.]

[ Hawke gives his request a moment's consideration - but only so, before he's shaking his head. They've definitely hit on the same wavelength, again, as Hawke's slow smile sharpens just a touch. ]

And ruin all this delicious suspense? Better to keep it spontaneous, for now. I'd hate for anyone else to catch on.

[ Surely it has nothing to do with his enduring love of being an incorrigible tease. But what better way to be sure Anders is fretting over something a little less dire than his usual, for a night? ]

Speaking of which- [ Nodding toward the door, Hawke folds his arms over his chest, a last-ditch effort to hold back from giving him a proper nudge. Or anything else a proper nudge might turn into. ] I think it's about time we were seen around a little more. You go first. I'll wait a few minutes and then head the other way.

[Having absolutely no idea what to expect for the next day only makes Anders even more impatient for what's to come. He most likely will be heading off to bed early to pass the night more quickly, enjoying the memories of the afternoon while he falls asleep. But Anders knows that Hawke is right - it would be best to be seen around the common area before anyone notices they're missing. Going to bed too early would only look even more suspicious, anyway.

Anders responds with a brief nod before reluctantly turning away. As he opens the door, he pauses to look around for a moment, making sure there's no one around who would notice them both leaving from the same room. The hall isn't particularly crowded, and the only people are simply passing through. Confident that they're in the clear, Anders heads out, not daring to risk one more look in Hawke's direction. He'd hate to walk throughout the asylum with a stupid grin on his face that can't be explained.]

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