This is, in its own way, a statement of defiance. No matter how he's become a specter of violence and death to many, he's still (mostly) human. He's still a man who has fought so damnably hard for every tiny scrap he's gotten, still a man with desires and wants, and oh, how he desires and wants her.

"Bela," he whispers against her neck, giving her the lightest nip of teeth right after. Her hand feels fantastic; Anders has always enjoyed how she knows what she enjoys and feels no hesitation in making that clear.

One arm loops around her waist, drawing her close without making it hard for her to pull and adjust and remove clothing, while his other hand is slowly slid up her stomach to rest on a perfect breast, kneading with care.