Title: Rhapsody in Ass Major – Chapter 32
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