Title: Don’t Mind Him. He’s… Antivan. (5/5)
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Zevran ♂, Anders ♂, M!Surana (Lucien) ♂
Rating: E (L4 N4 S4 V1 D0)
Warnings: References to past trauma, naked dudes doing naked things, the internet is for porn, dirty mage tricks, electricity play, cats being cats, nauseating romantic goo
Notes: Porn. It’s four goddamn thousand words of porn. Zevran/Anders/M!Surana. Anders sandwich, which may be my new favourite kind of sandwich.
They lost track of time in and on each other, smears of fruit and cream, splashes of sweat and spunk littering the bedspread; bites, scratches, and tiny bruises littering their skin. Zevran’s hand clutched at the scars on Anders’s chest, and Anders kept a hand on Zevran’s thigh, where it wrapped around his own, as the Crow pounded relentlessly into him, from behind. And so it was that Anders was the first to see the door open.
Panic shot through him, crackling along his palms and the bottoms of his feet. "Luke! Maker’s breath, I’m sorry."
Lucien stepped into the room, cool and silent, closing the door behind him, after a moment. His expression remained still as he took in the scene before him, Zevran smiling mischievously at him, over Anders’s shoulder. He ran a hand through his hair and walked into the bathroom, as if he were alone, and the sound of splashing water followed his exit.
"This… This is exactly what it looks like, and I told him it was a terrible idea, but you know how convincing—"
Lucien leaned out of the bathroom door, face dripping and amusement gleaming in his eyes. "Now, Anders, don’t let me scare the fuck out of you. I think Zevran’s still using it."
Anders could feel Zevran laughing against his back, as Lucien went back to his ablutions.
"Tell me, healer, will you invite him to join us?" Zevran asked, grinding slow and hard against Anders.
"It’s his bed. It’s not my place to invite." Anders reasoned, quietly, rolling his hips, eyes sliding shut.
"It’s your warm and beautiful body. Will you share it with us both?" Zevran breathed against his shoulder.
"I’m in his bed, with his boyfriend’s dick up my ass. He’ll have me, if he wants me."
"Husband, actually," Lucien corrected, sitting on the edge of the bed, robe hanging open.
Anders’s eyes shot open. "You didn’t tell me that! You never corrected me once!"
"Zevran lets people make their own assumptions, don’t you, dear?" Lucien reached over Anders, without touching him, to ghost his fingers across Zevran’s cheek.
"It didn’t seem important. Besides, why do you think I have a ring hanging around my neck, hmm?" Zevran bit the back of Anders’s shoulder.
"It didn’t look like it would fit any of your fingers," Anders protested.
"It doesn’t fit any of my fingers."
Lucien shot Zevran a sharp look. "Nevermind his fingers, for now. Do you mind me looking at you, Anders?"
"Luke, I’ve seen parts of your spleen. I don’t think it matters."
Zevran ran a soothing hand over Anders’s chest. "That’s not the question he asked, healer. Put aside the politics, which you have been unable to do, all day, I notice, and tell him the truth, whatever it is."
Anders closed his eyes, dizzy, the rushing feeling pulling at his skin, as if he were falling. "I don’t mind."
"And would you let me touch you?" Lucien’s voice was cool and quiet, no expectations, no demands.
Anders swallowed, palms crackling, fingers tingling. "I would."
"And would you enjoy that, or would you just let me?"
Finally, Anders looked up. "Well, I’m not going to know that, until you start touching, am I?"
"An invitation?" That uncannily expressionless voice was what made the banns stumble over their words, what had once made the queen uncertain of the extent of her alliances, what had backed down Templars.
"Yes." Anders swallowed again. "Touch me, Luke."
Lucien shrugged out of his robe, pushing it off the bed as he stretched out on his side, in front of Anders. He lifted his hand to one ear, tapping the gold ring there. "He has that. I have this. And now, we have you."
Lucien’s hand cupped Anders’s cheek, thumb stroking the stubble. "You must understand, this changes nothing between us."
Anders looked honestly confused. "Why would it?"
"Because some people are like that," Zevran whispered against his back. "You touch them, taste them, and they fall in love."
"That’s… not a problem I have," Anders scoffed. "Never have been, and not going to start now."
"He sounds just like you, Zev," Lucien teased.
"Mmm. And now, now I will tell the story about this ring. Well, maybe that ring, first, then this ring." Zevran rolled his hips. "Don’t think talking is going to make me stop."
"It never does. I think we rewrote the text of an entire treaty, that one night, and you didn’t stop once." Lucien laughed and ran a hand down Anders’s chest, completely unmindful of the scars. "You have to understand, when this began, I didn’t even have a hole in which to put this ring."
"He killed my best friend," Zevran began, tucking his hand between Anders’s legs and rolling the healer’s balls against his palm. "To be fair, the man had just tried to kill me. Both of us, really. It was my failed contract he was cleaning up after. He tried to convince me to go back home with him. To give up Lucien and come back to the Crows. But, I knew in that moment, we had never really been friends. I had seen what ‘friends’ were like, among Crows. I had been like that, once. And Lucien, well, he may still kill me, some day, but it will be honest, and without malice, and I will have brought it on myself."
"If I kill you, you will absolutely have brought it on yourself. Keeping me aboveground long after I should have gone to the Deep Roads," Lucien grumbled, shifting himself down to kiss along the underside of Anders’s jaw.
"But, I … the way you stood by me, Lucien. The way you never doubted me, for an instant. The way your eyes flashed when he threatened me, but stood still when he turned the same on you… I knew. I knew I had thrown away my entire life, and there was no going back." Zevran pulled Anders closer to him, rocking his hips and grinding in. "And I didn’t want to go back, because I had you. I had you, I loved you, and I only wish I could have said it, then."
"You would have saved me a month of fuckless aching and the company of my hand," Lucien griped, dragging his short nails down Anders’s abs. "But, I wore it for you. I knew what you meant, even if you had to be difficult about it. Straight out of your hand and into my ear, which was a shitty choice, on my part. Wynne had to clean that up for me."
"I am so sorry, caro." Zevran laughed quietly against Anders’s spine.
"So, wait." Anders rocked his hips back against Zevran, pressing down against where the assassin’s palm met his pelvic arch. "You gave him an earring. He put it in, right there, and you … stopped fucking him?"
"I was stupid! I’d never been in love! I thought there was something wrong with me!"
"There was something wrong with you! Even Anders can see it!" Lucien complained swirling a finger around the tip of Anders’s cock. "And it was nothing that a mouthful of my dick wouldn’t have fixed!"
"Which, as I recall, is how that ended up being fixed. You were so hard and so offended, the sight of you was breathtaking. There and then, I surrendered to you. To your mouth, to your hands, to your pole in every hole I had to offer. You demanded answers, and I didn’t know what they were, but you wrung them out of me, and my bed became our bed." The memory pushed him to thrust more intently into Anders.
"To the continued displeasure of the rest of his guests, I might add." Lucien leaned in something on the bed and brought his his nose. "Is that butter?"
"I told you a grease spell—" Anders started.
"No, it wouldn’t," Lucien cut him off, sitting up to reach over them for the bowl.
Anders opened his mouth and dragged his tongue along whatever parts of Lucien’s body came close enough to taste, and the Warden-Commander shifted around until Anders’s mouth closed around the head of his cock.
"Does this please you?" Lucien asked, amused.
The only response was a contented hum that resonated back along his length.
"As delightful as I find your tongue, this is not what I had in mind."
Anders hummed inquisitively, tongue fluttering teasingly around the flesh in his mouth.
After a brief and silent conversation of eyebrows and smiles, Zevran cut in. "He wants you inside him. I know that look."
Anders froze. "What?" he sputtered around the cock in his mouth, drooling down his cheek.
"No? Very well. I’ll settle for what you’ll give me." Lucien reached down and stroked Anders’s cheek.
"No! What? No, not no. Yes. Wait, what?" Anders pressed his tongue against Lucien to shut himself up, while he remembered how to breathe. "That’s not no. That’s just surprised."
"Surprised?" Lucien pulled back and squirmed back down the bed, bowl of butter in one hand. "Is it so hard to believe that I would want you to warm me from the inside? It’s hardly the first time I’ll have had some part of you inside me."
"Andraste’s tits, Luke, that’s disgusting." Anders huffed in amusement.
"And very true, for all that I don’t generally have the presence of mind to be excited by you fondling my liver."
"Please stop having your liver out, mi amore." Zevran rested his chin on Anders’s shoulder. "It’s so very unhealthy."
"I keep telling him that," Anders muttered. "He doesn’t listen to me."
"Gentlemen! Peace! You don’t become a legendary hero by keeping your organs inside your body! That’s what you have talented and lovely healers for." Lucien let his hand wander over Anders’s skin. "And you are that much more lovely bared and enthused, Anders."
"I knew I should have shaved, today…"
"Nonsense. It’s exotic." Lucien leaned forward and rubbed his cheek over Anders’s stubble. "You humans are just deliciously fuzzy."
Anders reeled. Exotic? Well, he was in bed with two elves. Exotic was definitely an improvement over annoying, disgusting, or barbaric. He finally lifted a hand and cupped it around Lucien’s hip, stroking the smooth skin there.
"Not a mark on you," Anders muttered into Lucien’s neck.
"Of course not. It’s a testament to how well I choose my healers." Lucien took Anders’s hand and dipped the fingers into the bowl between them, crossing his leg over Zevran’s, to hold Anders more firmly.
Anders took the hint and reached between Lucien’s legs, slowly working two fingers into him, as Lucien made encouraging sounds against his ear. Lucien’s greasy fingers wrapped around them both, and he rocked his hips against Anders from the front, as Zevran continued to grind into the healer from behind.
"Watching you… Do you know what I think of, seeing you like this, caro?" Zevran raised himself over Anders’s shoulder to kiss Lucien.
"Tell me." Lucien smiled against Zevran’s lips. "I think I know, but he doesn’t. So, tell me, my love."
"The day we were to be wed, you put that ring on me. I thought it was a joke. Just a little kink between us, to keep the ceremony interesting — which, I will not lie, it definitely did —but, later. After the blessings and the drinks and Alistair putting that fine supper up on the Reverend Mother’s fine Orlesian shoes." Zevran’s hips moved in time with the rhythm of his words.
"Oh, that later—"
"That later. When I spread myself before you and asked for nothing. And you, you heartless tease, you took your time." Zevran bit the corner of Anders’s jaw. "And then you eased that ring off me, brought me off with just one kiss. Your lips barely touched me and —"
"And you painted my face white."
Lucien’s voice was soft and warm against Anders’s ear, Zevran’s breath against his neck, and the healer writhed between them, silently, eyes closed, breathing deeply, hanging on every word, every breath, every thrust and stroke.
"Ah, but before I could even apologise, you had your fingers inside me, pressing the tip of your tongue against my aching, aching slit for those last few drops. You tormented me all night long with your accursed Warden stamina." Zevran paused to kiss Lucien again. "But, looking down at you, then, I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. Foolish time, since I’d already married you, but that was a matter of devotion, not duration. And I knew you would die young. I still know. But, I would have you with me until that bitter, screaming end. That was when I knew I would follow you into the Deep Roads, and we would go out together, as we came in alone."
A shudder ran through Anders, and he drew a long, stuttering breath as he spilled across Lucien’s fingers.
"So very romantic, beloved, as ever you are. But, I think you broke my toy." Lucien lifted his head and looked down at Anders.
"Accursed Warden stamina says three minutes?" Anders offered an apologetic shrug.
"Three minutes? My, my… How long have the two of you been at each other?" Lucien teased.
"When did I leave your office?" Zevran asked. "A little less long than that."
"And all over my bed is him, not you." It wasn’t a question.
"Some of it is me. I take a little while to bounce back, but a loooong time to go. I don’t have to tell you this. You know exactly how much of this mess is mine." Zevran’s grin was audible.
"Laundry’s going to hate us," Lucien laughed, still stroking Anders.
"Laundry’s going to hate us more for the butter," Anders pointed out, curling his fingers inside Lucien.
Lucien threw his head back and rolled his hips. "If you don’t start recovering, right now, Anders, I’m going to hate us. Give me more fingers."
"He’s pushy, but he’s very pretty, when you give him what he wants." Zevran pulled his hand up a bit, tightening his half-grip on Anders’s balls.
"Another finger’s easy enough, but he’s more than pretty enough even without it." Anders curled his fingers and twisted his hand until he could begin to press a third finger in.
"He’s also murderous when he’s frustrated. I got to watch that for a whole month, once, and I do not think I have ever seen so many people spontaneously combust, before or after that point. All his charming diplomacy, right out the window."
"Because you’re a fucking tease, Zevran," Lucien growled, pushing himself back onto Anders’s fingers. "And so are you, Anders. More. You’re a healer. You can make it fit."
Anders stopped moving and tipped his head back to look at Lucien. "How much, exactly, do you want me to fit?"
"Your whole hand. Half your forearm." Lucien tensed, shuddering, as Anders stroked his insides.
"I’m a healer, not a miracle worker," Anders scoffed.
"He may not be kidding," Zevran warned. "This wouldn’t be the first time."
"Not the fi— Zevran, show me your hand," Anders demanded.
Rather than release Anders’s balls, Zevran rolled them against his palm again, before working his other arm under Anders. He wiggled his fingers. Anders was somewhat surprised to note that the hand of the little, skinny, backstabbing elf was actually wider across the knuckles, than his own.
"You actually fit…"
"Yes," they both answered.
"Well, it’s not going to happen at this angle," Anders pointed out.
"Don’t do that thing to him that you did to me, that first time, hm? I’m sure he doesn’t need a broken wrist. I didn’t need a broken wrist, either."
"You just didn’t want to explain yourself to Wynne," Lucien teased.
"You didn’t want to explain me to Wynne either!"
"Well, this time we have a healer in bed with us, don’t we?"
"Please don’t break my wrist, Luke." Anders handed himself more butter and worked another finger in.
Lucien panted and made no promises, rocking his hips hard between his hand and Anders’s knuckles.
Even still clutched in Lucien’s hand, Anders was flagging. It wasn’t that he didn’t want more so much as that Zevran had made the very best of that legendary Warden stamina, in all the ways only a man who had spent a lot of time in bed with a legendary Grey Warden could do, and Anders… was not nearly as legendary or as bullheadedly determined as Lucien. Still, he moved with them both, as they pleasured themselves in him and on him.
This was not something Anders had envisioned himself in the middle of, even as late as Lucien returning from his meeting. This was supposed to have ended in him getting his ass kicked and thrown to the mabari, he was sure, not in the Warden-Commander’s gorgeous, naked body wrapped around him, riding his fingers with breathy demands for more.
But, here he was, fucked hollow and covered in spunk, fruit juice, and butter, knuckles-deep in the Hero of Ferelden, with a lovely and very Antivan assassin still taking advantage of his well-fucked ass. It was, he decided, time to make things more interesting, and the tiniest spark of electricity shot across the fingertips pressed against Lucien’s insides.
A raw sound tore out of Lucien, as every muscle in his body flexed and he spattered Anders’s abs. A minute passed, as Lucien tried to remember where he’d left things like his fingers, his face, his left leg.
"That was amazing! What did you do?" Zevran enthused, wiping some of the spatter off Anders that he might lick it from his fingers. "Can you teach that to me?"
"Dirty mage tricks," Anders replied, smugly, drumming his fingers inside Lucien.
And then Lucien turned it on him, a jolt of electricity racing down his length and seeming to crackle through the bowl of his hips. And there was that Warden stamina. Or something. Anders throbbed desperately in Lucien’s hand.
Anders twisted to meet Lucien’s lips in a rough and demanding kiss, but of course, Lucien was still grinning dangerously, eyes all alight with wicked intent, and Anders met teeth with teeth a couple of times, before anyone’s tongue got involved. It was more like a duel than a kiss, bitten lips and tongues, growls and teeth-on-teeth clacks. And then Anders brought out the sparks again, and Lucien bit the healer’s lip hard enough to bleed.
"Ok, not that I am complaining, because I could watch this all day and night, but whatever the two of you are doing, neither of you is doing it to me?" Zevran peered confusedly over Anders’s shoulder.
Anders reached for the hand still pinned under his side, with his free hand, and pressed sparks into Zevran’s palm.
"Oh. Oh… Lucien, why have we never done this?" Zevran picked up the pace from a slow and lazy grind to something with a bit more intent, and Anders tightened encouragingly around him, drawing him in with every thrust.
"I leave my weapons at the door, when I come to bed," Lucien growled, licking the blood off Anders’s lip.
"This is why you weren’t any fun, back in the Circle, isn’t it?" Anders teased. "Nobody taught you how to misuse your magic in the fun ways."
"You were a healer. I was … not. Do you know how fast I would have ended up in your place, if anyone even breathed my name in the wrong tone?" Lucien ran another jolt through Anders as punctuation.
"Luke, if you keep doing that, I will make up for all of it. I will breathe your name in whatever tone you like." Anders shivered and rocked his hips between Zevran thrusting into him and thrusting himself into Lucien’s hand. "And if you move your pinky so it’s under… like that. I think you’ll get him, too."
Lucien loosed another jolt and Anders clenched and arched, hearing Zevran’s teeth clack shut, behind him.
"And he is doing this inside of you, Lucien?" Zevran mumbled, inquisitively.
"I’ll show you later," Lucien promised, before returning his attention to Anders. "You’re strangely still, Anders. Did I break you?"
"Hardly." Anders bunched his fingers and pressed a little harder, feeling Lucien part for his knuckles, at last, as he scattered sparks down his fingers again.
Lucien bucked and arched again, retaliating with another delicious jolt, one that, with his hand still wrapped around both himself and Anders, set him off again, adding to the cooling, slick pool on the blanket between them.
Anders rode Zevran harder, as the electricity lanced through him, chasing up his nerves, caressing his bones. He’d thought that last one was gone, but a little magic in the right places had always done wonders, and this time was no different. He heard Zevran’s breath quicken, behind him.
"Fucking take me, Zevran. Fill me up, this time," Anders gritted out, caressing Lucien’s insides.
"There’s that legendary stamina," Lucien teased.
"No, that’s just what happens when you add electricity." Anders cricked his fingers just right, and Lucien’s laugh turned into gasping, desperate sounds. "It’s a good thing I’m a healer. I’m going to need one, after this…"
Melting butter pooled around Anders’s hip as he thrust between the two elves. The bowl had flipped at some point, but he couldn’t quite care. It was Lucien’s bed, anyway, and it was probably Lucien’s fault.
And then Zevran reached across them both, fingers digging in hard, as he grabbed Lucien’s ass, his breaths shorter and with more little sounds of desire scattered between them. "Do this for me, caro," he breathed across Anders’s back, and Lucien wasted no time in calling up a low charge in his hand, through his fingers, and holding it, stroking it over his length and Anders’s.
Anders lost himself in it, the pounding and panting at his back, Lucien’s sweet electric fingers on him. His eyes rolled back and his fingers fluttered inside Lucien, as he loosed a somewhat stronger jolt that clung to his fingers as they drummed against Lucien’s smooth, warm flesh.
Lucien and Anders went over, first, clinging to each other as the electricity raced through them, putting them in time with each other, every pulse striking both at once. Lucien soaked the space between them a third time, but Anders throbbed painfully for a few milky drops, eyes squeezing shut as he felt Zevran let go, inside him.
"Incredible," Zevran panted.
"Shut up," Lucien groaned, nudging Anders with his wrist. "I can’t feel my leg."
"It’s still attached. Please don’t make me get up." Anders’s voice was muffled against Lucien’s neck.
"Don’t you dare get up. Can anyone reach the bell rope?" Lucien asked. "I’m cancelling anything anyone thought I was doing before midday, tomorrow."
Anders made quiet noises of relief and approval.
"Only tomorrow?" Zevran asked. "I thought I might keep you like this all week…"
"I need to keep Amaranthine from setting itself on fire," Lucien groaned. "Anders, keep him away from the banns."
"Get me a case of lyrium potions, and I’ll consider it," Anders mumbled. "Can I have my fingers back?"
"I could go another round," Lucien offered, thoughtfully.
Anders groaned loudly.
"It’s just you, mi amore." But, Zevran offered his hand, all the same. "Come break my wrist again. We have a healer right here."
"Your healer is taking a nap. Wake me up if you break anything."
Lucien yawned and stretched, and when a small mew broke the silence, each of them thought it was one of the others. Anders eased his fingers out of Lucien, stroking fondly as he drew out the tips. And then Zevran shrieked. There was no other word for it, really. Shrieked. A shrill, horrified sound of pain.
Anders turned his head so fast his shoulder collided with Zevran’s face. "What—"
"I believe this is yours, healer." Zevran’s hand came up over Anders’s chest with a small orange cat scruffed in it. "It is very sharp."
"Pounce! You wicked thing!" Anders reached for the cat and changed his mind after a quick assessment of the state of his hand. "Just… put him on the pillow. He’ll distract himself with my hair, in a minute."
"I am not a mountain to be climbed, you fuzzy little terror," Zevran scolded, placing the cat above Anders’s head. "I am no archdemon to be conquered."
"My ass might disagree with that last," Anders muttered. "Pounce and I will be right here, if you need me. Please don’t roll over on my cat."
"I’m sure he would never permit such an offence," Zevran teased. "Just another set of holes for you to close, healer. I think I am bleeding."
"I know I’m bleeding. I’m still taking a nap." Anders curled up, and as expected, Pounce immediately tried to make a nest of his hair. "Might want to get the butter, Luke. I think you knocked it over."
"Laundry’s problem," Lucien decided, crawling over Anders, to situate himself behind Zevran. "Mmm, hello, beloved. Did you miss me?"
"Every moment I spend parted from you."
"Don’t listen to them, Pounce. ‘S not for kittens," Anders mumbled, exhausted, as he drifted off, Zevran still inside him.