Neither of them speak. Even without the risk of being overheard, words are not what either of them needs, or wants.
Touch is what they crave -- anxious, fervent touches exchanged in secret, in a silent, darkened stairwell, plunged into shadows at the deepest hours of night when the tower is as quiet as it will ever be.
Anders presses Karl into a corner; He goes without resistance.
It's their lips that meet first, passing warm, wordless breaths between them, saying everything despite saying nothing at all.
Their palms touch, fingers clasping desperately in the shadows, and the darkness no longer matters during those stolen moments in the night, moments when perfect sight is meaningless and the lightest touch of a lover's hand matters more than words ever will.
Shadows (Anders/Karl, PG?)
Touch is what they crave -- anxious, fervent touches exchanged in secret, in a silent, darkened stairwell, plunged into shadows at the deepest hours of night when the tower is as quiet as it will ever be.
Anders presses Karl into a corner; He goes without resistance.
It's their lips that meet first, passing warm, wordless breaths between them, saying everything despite saying nothing at all.
Their palms touch, fingers clasping desperately in the shadows, and the darkness no longer matters during those stolen moments in the night, moments when perfect sight is meaningless and the lightest touch of a lover's hand matters more than words ever will.