Apr 282015
 

Title: Rhapsody in Ass Major – Chapter 51
Co-Conspirator: TumblrMaverikLoki
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Cormac Hawke , Fenris , Artemis Hawke
Rating: E (L2 N4 S4 V0 D1)
Warnings: Extreme drunkenness, oh my god Cormac, what the fuck Artemis, the internet is for porn, awkward Hawke on Hawke action
Notes: Artemis opens his mouth and starts the most awkward game of gay chicken in history.


Cormac found himself momentarily confused by the fact that his glass was suddenly wearing soft, green smalls, but half-remembered he’d hung them on a bottle after they’d hit him in the face. The bottle he’d just poured from. Right. More liquor. Not drunk enough for this, yet. Not by half. Still, in for a copper, in for a sovereign.

"If you’re going to fuck him in that position, give him something to rut against. You’ll thank me. He sounds incredible." Another drink went down Cormac. "Not as good as me, of course, but nothing does."

Fenris sent Cormac an irritated look as he flexed his jaw. Those were all muscles he’d never expected to work quite so thoroughly. "Something to…?" Fenris looked about, brows knit, and settled one of the couch’s plump pillows, snagging it from under Cormac’s arm and propping it under Artemis’s hips.

Artemis snorted a laugh. "Wish I could say this was my first threesome with a pillow," he muttered. "But ow, no. That’s embroidered. Could we not?" He slid the pillow out from under his hips.

Fenris tried not to flail. "Well, I’m open to suggestions," he said, ears twitching. He threw the rejected pillow at Cormac.

Cormac threw the smalls back at his brother, landing a killer shot right on his face. "You could always put these between your soft bits and the scratchy bits," he suggested.

This was ridiculous. He was giving sex advice to his brother’s broody death elf lover, while watching them fuck on the drawing room floor, right in front of him. At least with Anders, they’d all been naked. All three of them had been thoroughly involved in the whole of it, even if most — most — of it involved them enjoying Anders, rather than each other. Which was probably for the best.

Artemis pulled the smalls off his head, face twisted in disgust. "Thanks. Really."

With a growl of frustration, Fenris snatched back the pillow. He turned it over in his hands, casting about for any other alternatives first. "Is there something else we could —?"

"Listen," Artemis cut him off, voice strained. "I don’t care if it’s a pillow, the arm of a chair, or Cormac’s fucking leg. I just need you to fuck me right now."

Cormac’s knob throbbed at that thought. It was a terrible idea. It was a terrible, horrible idea, and he never wanted to explain it to anyone, ever. Unfortunately, his mouth didn’t get the memo. "Say it, Artie. Say the word, and I’ll do it."

No, no, no. No. Not drunk enough for this. Cormac poured himself another drink, defensively, washing the words out of his mouth with applejack. "Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve come on me."

The words startled a groan out of Artemis, who buried his face against his arms, ass still up in the air. "Cormac." His arms muffled the name.

Fenris looked back and forth between the brothers, turning the pillow over in his hands. "Say what word and you’ll do what, let Artemis hump your leg?" Fenris asked, voice coming out more choked than accusatory. That was wrong even on a Tevinter scale of wrong, but Maker damn him if that wasn’t a sinful image.

"That’s my brother, Fenris, and I’ll do anything he asks of me." Cormac shrugged and put the glass back on the table, with a shaking hand. "Name it, Artemis. Anything you want, and it’s yours."

He was expecting to be told to get the fuck out and get a better pillow or maybe a pile of blankets. It would all be a laugh, when they sobered up, later. But, if Artie really wanted him down on the floor, he wasn’t going to say no. He’d discovered he had an awful difficulty denying Artemis anything, which had led to some interesting situations, in the past, but never anything quite this interesting.

‘Anything you want’ was a dangerous offer to someone panting with need. Artemis tried to make sense of what Cormac was offering, if he had heard all that correctly, while his body ached, keenly aware that there were two men next to him and neither of them were touching him. His brother, he reminded himself. Wrong. Wrong, wrong. Except that the more he thought the word ‘wrong’ the more interested his knob was in the proceedings, which was unfair since it had already supplanted his brain in priority of bloodflow.

He was still drunk, wasn’t he? He could blame it on that. He’d done comparable things while drunk and survived the mornings after. Well. Not comparable. Related. Similar. Tangential.

His ass was getting cold.

Artemis swore under his breath, face still pressed to his forearms. "Just… get over here," he said, voice strained. "One of you. Both of you. I don’t care."

Cormac eyed Fenris. It was a half-assed invitation, and he knew he shouldn’t take it, but he’d give the elf enough room to object and then this wouldn’t even become an issue. Hands still shaking, he unwrapped his sash and stood, slowly pulling his robes off, over his head.

Fenris was sure he should object to this. Vehemently, even. But, the way Artemis had reacted to the offer… He busied his mouth against Artemis’s ass, again, holding back any objections he might have been able to muster, had he tried. Mages. Two of them. Again. How did he keep ending up in these situations?

Naked, Cormac looked at his brother again, at the lines of the corset, at the way his ass parted for Fenris’s face. He knelt beside Artemis and stroked his hair. "If you want me under you, you need to pick up your head. I’m flexible, but there are limits."

Arms shaking, Artemis propped himself up on his hands again. He looked up at Cormac, then looked over his shoulder at Fenris, catching the elf’s eyes over the curve of his ass. This had been about them to begin with, and Fenris had to know it still was. There were no objections from Fenris, no complaints, just green eyes meeting his and a tongue that made his toes curl.

It took some twisting, but Artemis reached back to stroke back Fenris’s hair, a question in his eyes. Fenris answered by pausing to press a kiss to that palm. "I love you," the elf reminded him, even now, even with this. It’s wasn’t approval or rejection. Just acceptance.

Fears eased, Artemis turned back to Cormac. "Well, come on, then," he murmured.

Cormac swallowed hard and hesitated, stroking his brother’s hair one more time, before he twisted himself around, face down, and slid under Artemis, feet first. He could feel the difference in warmth, where he passed under Fenris, and that gave him pause. Strangely, not that he was offering himself to his brother, but that he’d just gotten naked in front of Fenris. His heart pounded against his ribs as he lifted his hips just enough to brush his ass against Artemis’s knob, and he caught himself reciting snatches of Threnodies, under his breath. Real fuck of a time to go Andrastian, Cormac.

"One more thing," he said, snaking out an arm, palm up, against the carpet. He cupped it as best he could in that position, and called a small amount of grease into it. "Don’t use spit."

Fenris choked back a laugh, hysteria bubbling up in his chest. Mages. But, this mage, the one directly under him, was his mage, the man he loved. And whatever he thought of Cormac, at any point in time, they could both agree, here and now, that Artemis’s pleasure was of the utmost importance.

Artemis ground forward against Cormac, knob catching and sliding along the cleft of his ass. "You don’t plan to recite the Chant all through this, do you?" he asked with a fond, if nervous, laugh. He was the one stroking back Cormac’s hair now instead, and he pressed his forehead to his brother’s back.

Fenris shook his head and scooped the grease out of Cormac’s palm. The abomination had been with these two, he knew. Had they ever lain together like this for him? Probably not. He pictured Anders’s eyes bugging at the thought and smiled.

Now this part was more familiar to him, from the whole two times he’d done this with Artemis. He wiped some of the grease on himself and then pressed a slick fingertip to Artemis’s well-kissed hole.

Cormac reclaimed his hand, once it was mostly empty, and stroked what grease was left on his palm over Artemis’s knob. "The Chant? Fuck. Am I? Sorry. You jabbed me with your knob, and I thought I was having a religious experience."

He pressed his ass back up, invitingly, hoping the slick would make for a better experience. There were very few instances involving knobs in which a bit of grease didn’t make for a better experience, and Cormac was pretty sure most of those complaints were unique to his own unusual preferences.

Fenris listened to the brothers nervously prod at each other, as he worked his fingers into Artemis. No, they hadn’t done this before. He was sure of it. He wasn’t sure why that mattered to him, outside the fact that it would leave the abomination speechless — that alone would be worth nearly anything — but, the idea that he had inspired this was, itself, quite inspiring.

"The Chant is unnecessary," Fenris rumbled, "but you’re both welcome to appeal to the Maker." He twisted his fingers as he spoke in a way that had Artemis sucking in a breath. Artemis was making those lovely noises again, breath hot against his brother’s back, and Fenris thought of the first time he’d heard them. Cormac had been there for that too.

"I’m going to ask the Maker to smite you if you don’t get in me right now," Artemis swore, hips rocking between fingers and ass.

"Now where would that leave you?" Fenris asked, smiling as he pressed one last kiss to Artemis’s rump, sliding his fingers free.

"I don’t know about him, but I’m pretty sure it would leave me with a sore ass and no healer around to fix it. So, please, please, please, just stick your dick in my brother already." Maybe the Chant had been an improvement over what came out of Cormac’s mouth, without it. His nerves were shot, and even those mindbendingly sexy sounds Artemis had been making against his back did little to soothe them. They hadn’t locked the door. He didn’t think the door even had a lock. What if Aveline — ? What if Bethany — ? Carver was going to punch him in the face. Carver was going to break every bone in his face, and he was going to deserve it. And none of this changed the fact that his brother was grinding against his ass, and he was dripping on the carpet.

And then the sounds above him changed, and he was sure Fenris had at least begun to address the problem. One of the problems. The problem Artemis was having. Cormac had his own problems, the foremost of which was that he was not nearly drunk enough for this. He wasn’t sure there was enough Antivan brandy in the world for this. Doubly so for the fact that under the panic, he was enjoying it. The thought of his extremely good-looking brother rubbing off on his ass, maybe even in his ass, made his knob twitch like it had ideas all its own. And it wasn’t just that Artie was hot — which he was, being a Hawke and all — it was that he was Artie.

Fenris was pressed in to the hilt, his grip tight on Artemis’s hips and lines of lyrium tingling against bare skin. His knob was no flagpole, but it was still a decent size, and it was Fenris. Finally. They were finally… Well. This was certainly not how he’d pictured their next night together to be like, but they never did things the easy way.

"Fen," Artemis sighed as Fenris started to circle his hips, light, teasing pushes that rocked him into Cormac. Artemis slipped an arm under his brother’s chest and braced himself against his shoulder. Maker, this was insane. How had they actually come to this?

"All right?" Artemis asked, voice pitched low for Cormac. Usually his brother was screaming like a wildcat by now, but then this situation had no precedent, did it? Maker. Cormac and Fenris. The two people he loved most in the world, if in vastly different ways.

Cormac wasn’t sure how to even begin to answer that question. Why was Artemis asking? This wasn’t about him. It had never been about him. He tilted his hips up in a way that would probably hurt like murder, after a few hard thrusts, and purred quietly against the rug. "Mmm, if you’re happy, I’m amazing."

Fenris wondered how Cormac always made everything look so easy. Not for the first time, he seriously debated what the shit went on in that man’s head — which lasted all of a few seconds, until Artemis flexed … something, and all Fenris could think of was his knob and his mage. Points to Cormac for the grease, though. That was very definitely an improvement on the last two times, not that he’d imagined it could get better than that, but here he was, smoothly sliding himself in and out of his mage’s wonderful, tight, warm body. He moved one hand, stroking Artemis’s back, tracing the bony line of his spine under the corset lacing.

Sweat dotted Artemis’s brow, his body overwhelmed and overheated by the two men beneath and behind him. Artie tilted his hips until Fenris hit just — oh. Right there. It was too much, filled, surrounded, and loved, yet he asked for, "More." Looking over his shoulder at Fenris, he clarified. "I want you inside me."

"Am I not already?" Fenris quipped, punctuating his question with particularly hard thrust that had Artemis choking off a shout.

"No. In me. Like you did in the cellar."

Fenris’s rhythm stuttered before picking up again. He remembered, Fade-blue fingers pressing through skin, tracing Artemis’s bones and feeling the slide of organs over his knuckles. "You enjoyed that?" he asked.

"Oh, Maker, yes."

Rocking his hips against Artemis, Cormac tried to figure out exactly what he was missing, because the conversation above him made precisely no sense whatsoever. Of course, he’d also been behind Anders’s shoulder for most of what went on in the cellar. And then there was shadow, where there hadn’t been shadow, before, and his skin crawled like it did when Fenris stepped out of the world. And that was when he realised that Artemis was into some much, much kinkier shit than he was. Add another item to the list of ‘what it means to be a Hawke’, he supposed.

"Just your hips?" Fenris asked, fingers sinking in and gently caressing the bones. "Or have you thought of other places you want me to touch you?"

Artemis shivered against Cormac. Fenris’s hands were magic in the truest sense of the word, the sensation of fingers on his bones sharp and almost painful, just shy of perfect. "Anywhere," Artie groaned, pleaded. "Everywhere. Please."

"Like here?" Fenris rumbled, fingers tracing up Artemis’s vertebrae. He slowed his thrusting to a grind as he mapped out his mage’s skeleton.

"O-oh Maker." Artemis arched almost violently, fingers digging bruises in Cormac’s skin.

Fenris chuckled. "Or here?" he asked, the smug smile in his voice. His hands spread down the wings of Artemis’s ribcage before sinking through it, palms ghosting over his lungs. Artemis shuddered, a cry caught in his throat. Dizzily, he had to laugh. He remembered telling Anders once that he could feel him in his lungs, and here was Fenris, literally in his lungs. Fenris was deeper inside him than Anders could ever be, but that was something he wasn’t going to tell Fenris, or at least not until some special occasion. He could picture his elf’s smug smile at that.

Cormac bit his wrist, not to start begging, when Artemis’s fingers bit into him. Still, his breathing was a bit more ragged than he could hide. He tried to imagine what was going on behind him, but the more he thought about it, the harder his teeth sank into his arm. Perhaps he’d just ask Artemis, later. When this was over. When he wasn’t fighting not to let his own desperate need to be fucked through the floor interfere with his beloved brother’s reunion fuck. Which, to be fair, was happening against his back.

One of Fenris’s hands moved, carefully, toward the centre of Artemis’s chest. His fingers curled in, gently cradling Artemis’s heart. "I would let you touch me, like this," he murmured, still grinding in, slow and deep, feeling the pulse shift against his palm, as he picked up the pace ever so slightly.

There was something poetic to be said here about Fenris holding Artemis’s heart in his hand, and Artie might have said it, had he any breath left in him or if he could form any words that weren’t frantic pleas and gasps for more. His hips bucked against Fenris, against Cormac, and he was mindless in his need for release, the touch on his heart sparking and lighting him up with sensation. Then he felt the floor vibrate, and Artemis tried to come back to himself.

"Hush, mage," Fenris murmured, leaning forward to whisper in his ear. "It’s all right."

Artemis didn’t realise that he’d started chanting the word ‘no’ until Fenris gently hushed him, his fingers still gentle on Artemis’s heart.

"Artie? You good?" The ‘no’ cut through everything else in Cormac’s mind, cold and sharp. He stopped moving entirely.

"I’m… I’m all right," Artemis said, voice shaky. "I just… I was going to… the floor…"

"Oh, fuck. Is that all? Andraste’s tits, will you please just come already? You’re killing me, here." Cormac laughed, forehead pressed against the floor, and rubbed his ass against his brother’s knob. "We know you, Artie. Neither of us care if you knock over a bottle or six."

"I would not have put it in those words, but… yes. I know you. I know this is what will happen if I pleasure you, and I welcome it." Fenris wasn’t quite sure ‘welcome’ was the best word, but he sure as shit didn’t fear it. Especially not in a room that wasn’t full of wine racks. He stroked Artemis’s heart, softly, kissed the mage’s back, and continued to grind into him.

Artemis’s breath was ragged against Cormac’s back. He’d been so terrified. Fenris had said it was fine before, but it was one thing to say that another to prove it. And, Maker, Artemis loved this man, this man with his heart in his hand, and he didn’t want to lose him again. He wiped at his eyes, where tears of relief welled.

Looking over his shoulder, Artemis murmured, "I love you."

Fenris kissed his back again. "Ardo te," he murmured. It took a bit for the disorientation to fade, but then Artemis relaxed back into Fenris’s rhythm, trembled at the gentle brush of fingers over his heart.

Oh, fuck, his brother was crying, wasn’t he. Cormac was, all told, a little less than entirely thrilled with how this had turned out. Here he was, with Artemis having tears-of-joy reunion sex with the broody death elf, on top of him, while his knob throbbed, unattended, beneath all of them. He really hoped he could drag Anders away from whatever completely reckless world-preserving feats he was involved with, tonight, because this was going to be a painfully unpleasant evening, otherwise. Most likely a painfully unpleasant evening during which his brother had come all over him. That was worth something, at least.

Fenris was unwilling to push too hard, just yet. He wanted to ease Artemis into the grips of another earthquake before he dared to chase his own pleasure. He didn’t suspect it would take much, once Artemis began to quiver and make those delightful sounds, again. Still, he switched from grinding to thrusting, careful to keep the thrusts short and not too jarring, but putting that intent back into his motions. That he meant this. That he meant to push Artemis until the walls shook. That he knew what he was doing, and was doing it anyway.

This time, when the walls did shake, Artemis didn’t stop or say ‘no’, didn’t get that wide-eyed look of panic that broke Fenris’s heart. Instead, he continued to shiver, his soft pants turning to choked-off groans, Fenris’s name and Cormac’s mixed in among the sounds. Fenris gripped Artemis’s hip with one hand and Artemis’s heart in the other as the door and windows clattered in their frames.

When the shaking stopped, Artemis lay heavily against his brother’s back, the skin between them sticky, as Fenris continued to chase his own release, hand finally leaving Artemis’s heart.

The thrusts grew longer and deeper, as Fenris pounded Artemis against his brother’s back. The extra support meant his hands were free to caress the lean body beneath him, in a way he hadn’t been able to, the last time they were together, stiff fingers dragging over the relaxing muscle, occasionally digging in, as Fenris shuddered and lost his rhythm. He’d done this. He’d caused this mage to shake the house. And all it had taken was his naked body and a few well-placed words. Perhaps there was something appealing about power, after all, because that was the thought that shook him apart, panting and gasping, clutching Artemis to him.

Beneath them, Cormac wondered how rude it would be if he just stroked himself off. There was spunk pooling in the small of his back and dripping down the crack of his ass, and he was increasingly certain his knob would bruise if it got any harder. Of course, he’d never been one to turn down a few good bruises. Still, the longer this went on, the higher the chances got that he was going to outright kill Anders with his dick, as soon as he got off this floor.