Apr 062015
 

Title: Rhapsody in Ass Major – Chapter 32
Co-Conspirator: TumblrMaverikLoki
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters:  Anders , Cormac Hawke , Artemis Hawke
Rating: E (L4 N4 S4 V0 D0)
Warnings: Inappropriate ass-grabbing, three naked mages in the cellar, Artemis hopes that fabric’s stain resistant, oh my god Cormac, Anders is having the best day of his life, teh gay, the internet is for porn
Notes: Slightly awkward, but totally hot. Two Hawkes and Anders, making with the naked fun.


Cormac reflected that this would be amazing, and then, when it was over — or possibly before that if his mother actually did have a stupid child — Carver would punch him in the face. It would be worth it. He’d even let the kid finish the shot, and then use the black eye as an excuse to tell Varric everything.

Anders stood, shrugging off his shirt as he moved, and peeling the rest of his clothes off immediately after. It wasn’t a strip-tease; it was just efficient. Standing naked before two Hawke brothers, he untied his hair and lowered his eyes to the cushion between them. "What if…" he started, voice barely above a whisper. "What if Cormac stretches out against the arm of the couch, and I turn my back to him, and then Artemis comes and sits in my lap? Do you think your hips will take it, Cormac?"

"You’re a healer," was Cormac’s reflexive response. "Who cares? If I’m wrong, it’ll only be horrible for a minute. And I really doubt the two of you are going to break my hips. You’re still older than me, Anders. Maybe it’s your hips I should worry about."

"Oh, we’re down to the old man jokes, are we?" The submissive posture was gone as if it had never been, with nothing more than a slight shift of the shoulders and the eyes. "You’re not that much younger."

Cormac laughed and reached down to unlace his boots. "I’m for it. Do we have any objections?"

Any objections would likely come tomorrow in the form of sober Artemis, but right now Artemis was drunk and his drunk self loved to screw over his sober self. He sifted through a few nonsense noises before landing on ones that made sense. "Sure. That’s… sure." Best to let Anders and Cormac direct this, he thought. Thinking and staring at a naked Anders weren’t things he could do at the same time.

Anders smiled and tugged at Artemis’s shirt, reminding him that both Hawkes were wearing far too much clothing. He pulled the tunic over Artemis’s head, bent to nip his throat. Artemis needed a gentler touch, he found, while Cormac always seemed to know what he wanted without being asked. They were so very different, these two, and for once Anders found himself thanking the Maker for Warden stamina.

While Artemis fumbled with the ties to his pants, Anders turned to Cormac, who was pantsless and peeling off his shirt, already. "You just keep getting quicker, every time. One of these nights, I’m going to blink, and you’ll be naked."

"Hey, I’m trying to learn to keep up with the best." Cormac grinned and sat his bare ass down on that brand new couch. "Oooh. We picked a nice one. I’m suddenly loving this fabric even more. Good choice, Artie. Excellent forethought."

Anders laughed and waited until Cormac had mostly gotten settled, knees still bent until Artemis got up. There was just enough room, and Anders occupied that space, settling onto Cormac’s lap, leaning back against that warm, coarsely-fuzzy chest. He bit the angle of Cormac’s jaw. "Hey, sexy. You miss me?"

"Mmm, nope. Every time I think I might, you’re already there." Wrapping his hand around Anders’s, Cormac took the handful of grease he knew would be there, and reached down as Anders lifted his hips to give him the room. "You want to play, or do you want me to skip to it?"

"Let’s not leave your brother waiting."

Said brother took a bit to fumble out of his pants, thanks to the distracting tableau on the couch. Pale and dark limbs sprawled and tangled, a delicious contrast to green fabric, and oh, he hoped that fabric was stain-resistant.

Once free from his pantsy burden, Artemis climbed back onto the couch, kneeling between Anders’s spread legs and, yep, that was his brother’s hand. And his brother’s legs. And his brother’s — okay, best to stop with that. He was blushing again, the red spilling down his cheeks onto his chest, but his hands were steady on Anders’s legs, one hand tracing the curve of that puckered scar at his hip and making Anders suck in a breath.

"You are beautiful," Artemis murmured, bending to kiss the pale stomach in front of him.

"Yes, I am," Anders purred, slowly pushing himself down onto Cormac. "And so are both of you. It’s a good thing no one’s looking. I think the sight of all this glowing beauty would burn their eyes out, but what a final sight to have."

Cormac laughed against Anders’s back. The more nervous Anders got, in bed, the more vain he got. And not just pleased with his looks, but outright ridiculous. So Cormac rubbed a soothing hand over one of the less-scarred patches of Anders’s chest. "Still good?"

"Cormac, if you don’t get the rest of your dick into me this instant, I’m going to tell your brother to go get the dildo," Anders snapped, and Cormac’s other hand finally moved out of the way. Anders’s head fell back. "Yes," he sighed. "That. Thank you."

They rearranged themselves until Cormac could see around Anders’s shoulder and all of the legs were under Artemis. Anders ran a finger down from Artemis’s collar bone to the point of his hip. "Still want me?" he asked, calling up another handful of grease.

"I hope that question’s rhetorical," Artemis said, gesturing at his very interested knob. His laugh was the nervous kind, but he wasn’t moving away. He took Anders’s hand and slid it between them, and Anders took the hint and started pressing those long fingers into him. They both knew this dance well by now, and Anders knew just where to press to make Artemis squirm.

Artemis breathed a curse and rested his cheek on Anders’s shoulder, catching Cormac’s eye for half a second before looking away and pressing his face to the bend of Anders’s neck. Regrets. He was going to have them in the morning, but right now they were suspiciously absent.

Anders took a bit longer in preparing him, still always this side of careful with Artemis, until the man in his lap was swearing again. "Stop teasing," he growled, "or we’ll start up with the old man jokes again."

A jolt of electricity crackled across Anders’s fingertips and Artemis’s teeth clacked shut. "This old man can still outdo any young thing at the Rose," Anders pointed out, but took the hint, sliding his fingers out of Artemis and calling up a bit more grease to apply to himself.

Cormac slowed, grinding instead of thrusting. He’d done things like this enough to know he needed to be still, for now. His fingers still wandered Anders’s body, tracing lines of muscle and the edges of scars.

"Take it," Anders invited, supporting his knob with one hand, and Cormac’s eyes lingered there.

Anders didn’t have to tell him twice. Steadying himself on Anders’s shoulders, Artemis rose up and sank down on that much-celebrated flagpole. Anders held him steady, hands under his rump, fingers squeezing in a way he knew Artemis liked.

Artemis was still so tight around him, and Anders sucked in a breath, feeling surrounded and overwhelmed in the best possible way. He shifted his grip on Artemis and reached behind him to squeeze Cormac’s hip, reassuring himself that this was real, that demons hadn’t stolen him away from Justice in his sleep.

Artemis panted against Anders’s throat, face pinched, and started to move, finding a grinding rhythm in counterpoint to his brother’s. This? This was the best way to break in a new couch.

Cormac held his pace, waiting for his brother to settle. And wasn’t that a strange thought? The first time he’d actually shared — well, no, there was that time in the cellar, but the point still held — the first time he’d shared Anders, and it was with his brother. His brother was curled naked on top of him, with only Anders between them. Admittedly, there was kind of a lot of Anders.

And then Anders bucked, and Cormac stopped thinking. Anders’s hips twisted back against Cormac and then twitched up, bouncing Artemis slightly. Breathing a little heavier than usual, Anders stroked an apologetic hand down Artemis’s thigh, and tried to keep any further thrusts gentle and to the height of a flexed ass cheek.

"Oh, fuck, Anders…" Cormac started, still just above a whisper, but close enough to where Artemis had laid his head to be audible. "I can feel you. I can feel both of you. I roll my hips, and I’m fucking my brother with your knob, which I really shouldn’t be, because it’s your knob, and that thing’s weapons-grade, and —" The rest of it trailed of into deeply pleased sounds as Anders flexed just the right muscles.

Artemis made a choked sound at Cormac’s words, his knob twitching against Anders’s stomach. He should be scandalized — and a part of him was — but apparently his knob didn’t get the memo. He braced himself with a hand on the back of the couch, his other arm around Anders’s neck, and he swivelled his hips until Anders hit that perfect angle.

"Oh, fuck," he choked, and now Anders was getting that word from both sides. "More," Artemis growled. "I can take it."

He would likely need healing after this, but that was another regret sober him could deal with in the morning.

Anders smoothed a bit of healing into Artemis’s back, as he got out of his own way and painfully slowly pushed until Artemis’s sharp ass was digging into him. He knew how much healing would be too much — how much would just piss Artie off. It was a bit more than how much would piss Cormac off, actually. And there. The three of them were slotted together, at last. He rolled his hips and sighed softly. Two Hawkes at once — he must have done something right.

Pressing down into the cushions, Cormac decided it was time to see how bouncy the couch was. If he was reading that right, he shouldn’t be able to hurt Artie with an ill-timed thrust, with how close they all were. He slammed his hips back and let the couch return him to Anders. Those were good springs, he decided, and kept doing more of the same.

Each thrust rocked Anders up into Artemis, hard enough to knock short, panting breaths from his lungs. The hand gripping Anders was going to leave a bruise in the shape of four fingers and a thumb, but Anders would consider it another battle-scar.

"Maker," Artemis groaned. He finally get go of Anders and reached down to grab a firm buttock, pulling it closer at the end of each thrust.

Anders raised an eyebrow. "In the interest of all of us being able to face ourselves in the morning," he said, "I feel I should tell you that’s not the ass you meant to grab."

"Oh, fucking fuck yes," Cormac moaned. "I don’t care whose hand that is. I have my entire knob buried in the most incredible mage in all of Thedas, and that is the important thing."

He reached up and wrapped his arms around both of them, as best he could, pulling Artemis even closer against Anders, and squeezing Anders almost breathless for a second. "And the second most important thing is that my brother and I are both getting incredibly lucky with the most incredible mage in all of Thedas, at the same time, because we have figured out how to share nicely. We don’t need to take turns. There’s enough of you to go around."

Anders sucked in a sharp breath and choked on it, suddenly going pale. There were no windows here, but there was still enough light. He could see the man on top of him. He knew the voice behind him. It was just Artemis and Cormac. He’d even put them up to this. He choked out a short laugh. "Careful with the squeezing. It’s not just me, here."

"Mmm, should I be kinder to the delicious, creamy mage-filling?" Cormac asked, nibbling Anders’s shoulder, as he continued to abuse the resilience of the couch.

"Just a little. As much as I’m liking being crushed between two Hawkes, I could do without it being crushed to death." Anders adjusted his own rhythm so he’d bounce off Cormac’s hips when they came up.

Cormac moved one hand down to clutch at Artemis’s ass. There were two asses available, here, and neither one was Anders, and Artie’s hand was already on his. He was just drunk enough that this didn’t sound like a terrible idea, and he assumed any objections would come loudly and quickly.

Artemis was too far gone to care whose ass was in his hand or whose hand was on his ass, so long as Anders kept moving like that, pleasure sparking almost painfully at the base of his spine. He pulled back to look at Anders and saw the pale sheen of his face. He released what was apparently his brother’s ass and reached up to cup Anders’s cheek and comb back his hair. "Still with us?" he asked, hips still moving of their own accord.

"Where else would I be?" was Anders’s non-answer. "Where else could I possibly want to be, when right here between you two is an option?"

"The man has a point," Artemis agreed with a breathless smile. The next shove of Anders’s hips scattered all thoughts of concern from his mind. He swore again, writhing between a mage hand and mage hips. "A-anders," he panted. Much more of this, and the floors would start shaking.

That tone told Cormac everything he needed to know, and he reached up and grabbed Artemis’s hips with both hands, pulling down hard. His constant patter continued, but with much more visceral imagery, as he slammed his hips up into Anders faster and harder. "I want to feel you, Anders. I want to feel you wring me out when you come into my brother. I know how good you feel on me or in me when you go, and I want to feel you give that to us. To both of us. I want it, Anders. Every little gasp, every twitch you soften out, everything you give me, everything you give him. We’re both here, and you’re still so amazing, even like this, even with two of us. You. Oh, Anders, just… you…"

Anders surrendered to Cormac, letting Cormac set the pace, letting Cormac drive him up into Artemis. He’d rarely let himself be used like this, but this wasn’t anything like pretty much any other threesome he’d been involved in, no matter how closely related any of the participants may have been. He’d never had a steady bedroom thing going with any of them, never mind both of them. And this… This was just breathtaking and mindblowing, and he was sure that on some level there was supposed to be something terribly wrong with this particular combination of events, but there were two brothers fucking him, and one giving him a running commentary with a stream of filthy desire, and he just couldn’t bring himself to care. And then his breathing stuttered and his toes curled and caring about anything beyond that heat that seemed to run straight through him from Cormac’s dick to Artemis’s ass was impossible.

As Cormac kept talking, Artemis swore, aiming for scolding but sounding breathless. "Oh, fuck. Cormac!" Maker, it was terrible how much his own brother’s words went straight to his knob. But so did the look on Anders’s face, the way he could feel Anders tensing.

Artemis’s breaths went from soft pants to pleading groans as he let gravity and these two men do with him what they wanted. "Please. Anders. Cormac. I…" He started to tremble, and so did the couch, its back clattering against the wall. He pulled his hand free before it could get crushed, reaching instead for the bodies beneath him and past the point of caring whose it was. His back arched, vision sparking white, and Anders let out a sharp breath at the way Artemis’s body squeezed around him.

Artemis sagged against Anders, shuddering, as the other mage continued to buck up into him, chasing his own release. "Come on," Artemis murmured against his throat, adding his own, cleaner commentary alongside his brother’s. "Come for us, Anders."

Anders did, the whole of his vision flashing white, and his perceptions occupied by the bodies of the two men wrapped around him, the feel of them hot and hard and tight, the sounds of their voices, the scents of each of them blending into one smell that was both of them and sweat and sex. His thigh muscles rolled and his toes pointed.

He was dimly aware of Cormac desperately pounding into him, and he reached around the side, under the tangle of legs, and pressed a tiny spark into what he was relatively sure was some part of Cormac’s ass.

Cormac’s eyes rolled back in his head and he shouted obscene strings of vile expletive and desperate pleas for impossible things, as he throbbed deep inside Anders. He might have said something about fucking Anders fucking cheating again, but he wasn’t sure that was actually a complaint. One hand slid down from its perch on Artemis’s hip to cradle the ass cheek, below. "Oh, fuck, Artie, that was so good. You okay?"

Artemis didn’t attempt speech for a while. He waited for his heartbeat to slow, his forehead on Anders’s shoulder. Anders brushed back his sweaty hair. ‘So good’ didn’t even begin to describe it.

"I’m… um." Artemis let Cormac’s hand stay there for a moment longer before slapping it away with a huff. Maker. Had they really just…? They did. Artemis was past the point of being shocked at himself anymore. He was either too tired or too used to it to feel panic just then, which was nice. Or maybe he was just still too drunk.

Steadying himself against Anders’s chest, he started to pull off the flagpole, and — all right, that hurt. More than it usually did, but he asked for it. Anders looked up at him at the sharp intake of breath, healing magic already at his fingertips. "I’m fine," Artemis insisted, pulling off the rest of the way and slumping back against the couch. Oh right. Sitting. That was something else that hurt. "Still fine," he choked.

Cormac sighed and stretched until he could reach Artemis’s ankle. "Liar," he remarked, pleasantly, running a trace of his own half-assed healing magic up Artie’s leg. It wasn’t enough to ruin the burn, just enough to take the edge off — which Cormac occasionally had to do for himself, after he’d slapped Anders’s hands away.

His other arm wrapped around Anders’s waist, fingers stroking the knob that had just been inside his brother. "You want to help me wring the rest out of him, Artie? You and me and whatever we haven’t finished drinking, and we can sit back and watch him writhe for us. I’ll even wear pants, if that makes you happy."

"I don’t have strong feelings about your pants, one way or the other," Artemis huffed, slapping Cormac’s hand away again. "And I told you I was fine. But…" He looked Anders up and down, at the ruined mess they’d made of him, hair dishevelled, body covered in Maker-knew-what. "That’s another good look for you, Anders."

"Have you found a bad one, yet?" Anders asked with a lazy smile, hips pressing forward into Cormac’s hand. Then his smile froze, and he narrowed his eyes at Cormac over his shoulder. "Don’t you dare mention the Hanged Man the other night." Though Cormac apparently didn’t think crimped hair and eyeliner was a bad look.

Artemis shot his brother a quizzical look. "Right." He left the room to fetch Anders’s dildo.

"You looked fucking amazing, Anders. I think you could be painted up like a festival clown and you’d still look good, but that? That was not just incidentally good. That was Merrill knowing what she was about. But, if you hate it, I’ve got no particular attachment. You’re mindblowingly gorgeous just like this, all dizzy and slack, full of me and covered in my brother’s come." Cormac sighed contentedly and stroked a little more firmly. "I could be happy like this."

"Could be? Not are?" Anders looked like he might be offended.

"I meant in the less-immediate sense. More indefinite. I am happy with this now. I could be happy with this in the future, if it continued to go on." Cormac shrugged. "Also, I think my brain is leaking out my ear, so I might not be making as much sense as I could, later, when I’m less fucked witless."

"You say the weirdest shit, Cormac. Every time I think you’re about to get sappy, you just get disturbing, instead. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing the things that come out of your mouth after we fuck."