Title: Rhapsody in Ass Major – Chapter 50
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Cormac Hawke ♂, Fenris ♂, Artemis Hawke ♂
Rating: E (L2 N4 S4 V0 D1)
Warnings: Extreme drunkenness, oh my god Cormac, the internet is for porn
Notes: Cormac finds himself awkwardly stuck in the room, while Artemis and Fenris get it on. Of course, being Cormac, he’s got opinions, and being drunk, he’s going to share.
Except somehow in all the shuffling around, Cormac had ended up closer to the couch Fenris had been on, which now smelled like the elf that had been lying on it, for the last few hours. Cormac could admit it wasn’t an unpleasant scent, and he could almost see the appeal. He thought he might not watch, that maybe he’d just catch a nap, but watching them look at each other, touching only hands to faces, he wondered if he might not learn something much more important about his brother, here. Like what the fuck he was talking about, with that ridiculous ‘Tell Anders you love him’ noise. Fenris was, as he’d predicted, in love. Maybe if he watched it, he’d figure out what Artemis had been seeing.
Fenris paid him no mind. He didn’t care if the whole Hanged Man was watching, so long as the man in his arms was this one right here. Fenris kissed him again, more gently this time but no less heatedly, taking the time to properly taste him, rum and applejack mixing on their breath. Artemis’s fingers sank into Fenris’s hair, nails scraping along his scalp, and Fenris drew him in with an arm around his waist.
Artemis laughed breathlessly against Fenris’s lips. "I guess you do like the corset," he said, glancing between them and smirking.
"Mage, I like you. The corset is incidental. It is very appealing on you, though. I do not think I have properly appreciated the colour of your skin, until now, or maybe even the colour of your eyes." Fenris slid a hand down the back of the corset, encountering the laces, reaching down until his hand sat on that fine and purportedly heritable ass, still covered in soft green cloth. "You did this for me?"
"Might have," Artemis said with a smirk before leaning to bite at Fenris’s lip, a simple touch of teeth to skin. "After a few drinks, it seemed like a good idea. It was either that or bring you a goat."
"Never mind. Ask Aveline." Artemis was laughing and smiling that crooked smile instead of panicking, and Fenris’s sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Maker. As he bent to kiss Artemis’s throat, he waited for the mage to push him away, but he didn’t, not this time. Instead there were hands roving the planes of his back and a neck arching in invitation.
Cormac finished the glass of applejack Fenris had left on the table, watching his brother grope the broody death elf. He hadn’t actually gotten to watch, the last time they’d all been in a room, together. Anders’s shoulder had been quite firmly in his way for most of that. Not that he’d much cared, at the time. He’d been much more interested in Anders.
Fenris pulled Artemis closer, pressing his leg between the mage’s thighs, as he licked and nipped at that golden expanse of throat. Why were they always drunk for this, he wondered, but he’d had that answer, however indirectly. Cormac had pointed out that Artemis was much less inhibited, when drunk, and his own observations bore that out. But why was he, himself, always drunk for this? Not just a bottle of wine, but copious amounts of liquor. He didn’t suppose it mattered much, in the end. They were drunk, and Artemis was back in his arms, where he belonged.
Artemis’s hands found skin, rucking up the back of Fenris’s tunic to press his palms to tattooed flesh. Fenris sucked in a breath at the burn that caused at the base of his spine, and Artemis took that as encouragement to keep touching, tracing lyrium lines by touch alone. Fenris shivered and arched into his hands, seeking more scalding skin, as his teeth worried at the skin of Artemis’s neck.
"Mage," Fenris panted, arching up to kiss him again and again.
"I’m already in my underthings, you know," Artemis murmured against his lips. "Care to catch up?"
"Very well, but I suspect you’ll find my underthings much less exciting," said the elf who wasn’t wearing any.
Artemis chuckled and helped Fenris pull the tunic over his head. The shirt removal went much better than Artemis’s earlier robe removal, and Artie had high hopes for the removal of Fenris’s pants. He toyed with the laces, long fingers brushing teasingly over the bulge there. "How do you want me?" he asked, bending to whisper the words in a pointed ear.
Fenris’s breath stuttered, and he licked his lips. How did he —? "Naked," was the first word he managed to choke out, voice strained, before he realised that was very distinctly not the right answer. "No, wait, don’t take it off. I like the look of it on you."
Cormac crammed his hands under his hip, to avoid clapping slowly. This was really almost painful. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been or been with someone that flustered. But, then, he was into some strange and terrible things, and ‘flustered’ very rarely entered the conversation, this late in the game.
"I want—" The mage had asked him. Not told him how it would be, but asked him. Fenris grabbed at what he could remember, what they’d done before. "I want you on your knees for me." That had worked well, last time.
Artemis remembered that time in the wine cellar and shivered, remembered how Fenris had felt behind him, inside him, truly inside him, Fade-blue hands clutching him by the hip bones. "I think that can be arranged," Artemis all but purred, and Fenris’s ears twitched in response. He dropped to his knees at Fenris’s feet, pausing to nuzzle at Fenris’s still regrettably clothed crotch. Somehow, he remembered the complicated knot Fenris used to tie his laces and was either sobering up enough or determined enough to get them undone with minimal fumbling.
"You should kiss his ass, if you’ve got him on his knees," Cormac suggested. "With tongue. He makes the very best noises for that."
He poured himself another glass of brandy as Fenris glared across the room at him, slowly shimmying out of his leggings, with Artemis’s assistance.
"What? I’ve watched him come enough times. I know what he likes. And I know what he’s not going to ask for." Cormac shrugged and sipped his brandy.
"Is this true?" Fenris asked, trying to wrap his mind around the idea that putting his tongue there was a good idea. "Is that something you like? Is that something you want me to do for you?"
Artemis coughed into his hand and tried not to squirm. "Well… well, yes," he admitted to Fenris’s crotch. He’d always loved when Anders did that, especially when he took his time and drove him wild, and Artemis ached just thinking about it. "Is that something you would…?"
Artemis trailed off, gesturing vaguely with one hand. Fenris hooked a finger under his chin, and blue eyes met green. "For you? Of course." He sank to his knees in front of Artemis and paused to kiss him again. He wondered if he would ever tire of kissing this mage.
This was one of those things Cormac looked forward to telling Anders about, later. The two of them had a terrible habit of using Artemis against each other, in bed, and this would be amazing ammunition. He could use this for years, that he’d gotten to watch the broody death elf eat out his brother, and Anders hadn’t. ‘For years’… There was a thought, but it had already been years, and they showed no signs of slowing down, except when Justice got out of hand. Years, or until one of them got killed doing something epically stupid.
"Mage," Fenris sighed, with his mouth full of tongue, stroking Artemis’s face and clutching at his hair, just to be sure he was real and this was really happening. The word was no longer an insult, here, between them. Just a reminder of the wonder of this madness that had seized him. In love, with a man whose every touch called dangerously to the lyrium in his skin. It hurt less, now that he didn’t fear it. A tingling heat that hovered so close to burning, racing along the lines in his skin. He was going to make love to this man, right here on the floor. The very thought had him painfully hard.
He pulled the kiss to the side, mouthing at the side of Artemis’s neck, biting gently where neck became shoulder. This mage. His mage. He would remember the taste of every part of Artemis, until there was none of him left to remember. And that, he really still wasn’t sure about that. Tongues and asses… But, he’d do it. It wasn’t magic, and if the abomination could do it — which he assumed was the case, since Cormac knew about it — he could do it.
"Fen," Artemis breathed, fingers tangling in Fenris’s hair again. He mouthed along the point of one ear before pulling Fenris’s head gently back, lips tracing the line of his cheekbone. Lips feathered over Fenris’s one more time before Artemis pulled away. Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his green smalls, Artemis made a show of sliding them down his hips, an effect that was only partially ruined when he got them caught around his knees. With some shimmying, eventually the smalls came off, and Artemis flung them aside in the direction of the couch.
Fenris watched him with hunger in his eyes, hands clenching and unclenching as though aching to touch, to take. And that was a good look on Fenris, Artemis decided, especially when he was naked.
Cormac considered leaving the green smalls draped across his face, where they landed, as silent commentary on this entire situation. In fact, for a few moments, he did just that, but as breathable as the fabric might have been, it really wasn’t doing wonders for his ability to breathe under it. Or at least, he was rapidly annoyed at the feeling of inhaling his own warm breath. He reached out and hung them from the neck of the applejack bottle that still had liquid in it, and sincerely hoped his mother was out with Dulci du Launcet, for the evening, because this was not something he ever wanted to explain.
More brandy went into him as he watched Fenris’s ears twitch. He was willing to agree that the elf’s response to vast expanses of Artemis’s bare skin was appropriate. After all, they were brothers, and all the Hawkes looked good stripped down.
Fenris reached out, hand falling away before it touched skin, again and again, as if he couldn’t decide which part of Artemis to touch first. At last, he settled on the lips, first, ghosting a finger down the centre of that lovely kiss-swollen skin. And then, still watching Artemis’s eyes, he reached down and ghosted the same finger up the length of Artemis’s knob. "I want you on your knees for me," he said, again. "Lift your hips for me. I want to hear these sounds you haven’t made for me."
Fenris’s voice was sinful in ordinary circumstances, but hearing that voice talking like that, heavy with want, made Artemis’s toes curl. Artemis was too breathless to say something cheeky, and in the end, he merely nodded and obeyed, turning and leaning forward on his hands and knees.
Fenris took a moment to admire the view, this display that was all for him. His mage. Artemis craned his neck back to look over his shoulder, and Fenris soothed him with a hand on the small of his back, a hand that smoothed up and down his spine over the corset’s fine fabric. Artemis blew out a breath and relaxed, head hanging between his shoulders again.
"You are beautiful," Fenris murmured. His hand followed the line of Artemis’s spine down past the edge of the corset to squeeze at that inviting ass. Artemis wriggled his hips in invitation, and Fenris huffed a laugh.
Ass-squeezing, Fenris decided, was something he knew how to do. At the very least, Artemis had never complained about his ass-squeezing skill, so he must have been doing it right. Ass-kissing, on the other hand, for all he might have done it in the figurative sense, had never been something he’d made literal. Still, here was an ass, and he’d promised to kiss it. His eyes flicked nervously up to Cormac, as he bent down and laid his lips to one cheek. Just warm skin, like all the rest of Artemis’s warm skin that he’d put his lips to. He nipped at the tight curve of muscle, and then bit a little harder, soothing the flesh between his teeth with his tongue.
The bite of teeth made Artemis’s hips jump and his breath catch. He tilted his hips in encouragement, knowing he must have made quite the display for his brother. His cheeks burned at the thought even as his knob twitched, encouraged by the swipe of Fenris’s tongue so close to his entrance.
And Fenris worked his way up to it, teeth and lips and tongue exploring the area. Finally he steeled himself and took a breath, flicking just the tip of his tongue against Artemis’s entrance. That made Artemis’s hips twitch again, which he took as a good sign. Kissing, he told himself. This was another kind of kissing. Apply lips and tongue, feel your way around.
Cormac watched Fenris fumble nervously with his brother’s ass. His brother who was displayed like … well, to be honest, he’d seen Artemis in this exact position, before, although with Anders making wicked eyes over his tailbone. His own knob was half-interested in the proceedings, but again, any naked Hawke would be just as appealing, himself included.
Taking slow, deep breaths, Fenris mouthed at the hole presented to him, swiping his tongue across it. The taste was thankfully neutral — not something he’d have sought out, but now that it was in his mouth, not something he found objectionable, which increased the odds he’d be willing to do this again. He couldn’t say he’d ever explored an ass quite so thoroughly, as to be familiar with exactly how it all fit together. Certainly there were parts meant for squeezing. He’d gotten that far. But, this… his tongue played over the flesh, stretched tight as it was with his hands squeezing the cheeks apart. He wondered if he was meant to lick inside Artemis, and whether his tongue would even reach, but better he try and fail than be damned for never trying at all. He pressed his lips to the hole and then parted them, flicking his tongue across it, and then darting it against the centre. Tight, but he suspected he’d known that. Still, how was one supposed to… with a tongue… He tried and tried again, driving his tongue against the hole.
He had to be doing something right, because Artemis’s breathing deepened to shivery pants, his muscles twitching under Fenris’s hands. Interesting. Fenris kept tonguing at his hole, pressing as deep as he could.
Well. Those were definitely good sounds. So were the little groans Artemis was starting to make, breathy sounds that went straight to Fenris’s knob. He wondered how long he was supposed to do this for. Not that he minded keeping this up a while if Artemis was going to make sounds like that, but his tongue was getting sore.
Artemis leaned forward onto his elbows, his hips pressing back into Fenris, making him grunt in surprise. "Fenris," Artemis groaned. "I need you."
Okay, and that was Cormac’s knob becoming extremely interested in the proceedings. He poured himself more brandy, drank it, and then reached for the applejack, once he realised he’d hit the bottom of the bottle. It wasn’t the first time he’d had a raging hard on in the same room in which his brother was naked, but it was the first time there wasn’t something other than his brother he could blame it on. Like Anders. He loved blaming his raging hard on on Anders, right before Anders actually did something about it.