Title: Rhapsody in Ass Major – Chapter 59
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Artemis Hawke ♂, Cormac Hawke ♂, Anders ♂
Rating: E (L4 N4 S4 V0 D1)
Warnings: Hawke on Hawke action, oh my god Artemis, oh my god Cormac, Bad Dragon jokes, sounding
Notes: Confessions, dirty stories, and wholly unambiguous brotherly lust.
Artemis was getting crumbs and sugar everywhere, but he was drunk enough at this point not to care, not with the taste of raspberry tart in his mouth, not with a soft bed under him or Cormac and Anders to either side. It reminded him of when he was little, when he’d shared a room with his brothers and they’d keep each other awake, long past the point when their father would scold them for being too loud and told them to go to sleep. For the eighth time.
Granted, he was much less drunk in those days, but he’d been much less a lot of things. He wished he could go back to that time, back when his father still had all the answers.
Anders had worked Cormac into something just short of a pile of drunken goo, and he was back to applying those magic fingers to Artemis’s back. "You ever considered punching things on a regular basis?" Anders asked Artemis. "Your back would probably hurt less."
"Can it not be me? Carver punches me enough." Cormac muttered from under Artie’s chin. He was draped loosely across his brother’s side, sprawled out under his chin. They’d all been through so much — nope. Bottle. Where had he left it? Had they finished that one, yet? He couldn’t remember, and he was much too relaxed to move, at least physically.
"I could try punching Carver," Artie suggested with a lopsided smile. "He might prefer it over another force push down the stairs. I’m sure the dog would find it funny." He arched into Anders’s touch as his fingers dug at a particularly stubborn knot.
"The dog finds everything funny," Anders replied. "And Carver might be too busy ‘swording’ to hold still for you, but you’re welcome to try." He moved on to another knot lower in Artemis’s back, and Artie hissed. Anders soothed the muscles with healing magic. "For purely medicinal purposes, of course."
"Of course." Artemis shifted until he could pull the bottle out from where he’d accidentally sat on it. There were only a few sips left, and he downed them all. The hand not holding the bottle played idly with Cormac’s hair.
"Or we could get you a thing for punching," Cormac suggested. "Or you could just keep poking me with your knob. At least I hope that’s your knob, or I’m a lot drunker than I thought." There was definitely something of approximately that warmth and consistency pressing against the bottom of his ribs. He was sure that wasn’t a knee, because he knew where all the knees were, in this pile.
"It’s probably his knob," Anders agreed. "I’m working on that spot. You know what that does to you."
And then Cormac’s knob took an interest in the proceedings, however slight. "Oh, yes. That spot. The one you poke me in when you’re cheating."
"There is no cheating in war or in bed," Anders declared, looking as prim as it was possible to, while unshaven and naked in bed with two brothers.
"It is cheating," Artemis protested, squirming under Anders’s fingers, "when I’m drinking. You know what I’m like when I’m drinking." At this stage, half of Kirkwall knew what he was like when he was drinking. He leaned against Anders, head pillowed on a bony shoulder, and listened to Cormac’s breathing, the slow rise and fall of his brother’s chest against him soothing.
Artemis couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Cormac as rattled as he’d been today, and it was a reminder that his big brother wasn’t as invincible as he tried to be, shields or not. He knew Cormac didn’t want to talk about it — Maker, he didn’t want to talk about it — but there was something his brother needed to know.
"Cormac," Artemis said, hand still in his brother’s hair, "what the demon said to you… You know I’ve never do that to you, don’t you?" He hoped Cormac knew what he was talking about. He’d be lying if he said the thought had never crossed his mind, but… no. He couldn’t do that to his brother. Or to his mother.
"To me?" Cormac scoffed. "Don’t do it to you. Nevermind me. I’ll just piss on your grave and call you Sally."
Still, Cormac’s fingers dug into Artemis’s knee. It had been one of those things he tried so hard not to consider. And he’d considered it less, as they got older. They’d made it this far… "You’re fucking perfect, Artie. You’re a weird, neurotic little shit, but that’s who you’re meant to be, and it’s perfect. I love you, even when you’re knocking shit over. Even when you’ve cleaned the same plate seven times in an hour. Even when you force push me down the damned stairs, you dick. You’re everything you should be, and that’s perfect. And don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, especially demons. I’ll kick their asses from here to Minrathous."
"And I’ll clean up after him when he sprains his ankle doing it," Anders joked. "You know, I’d almost feel like you were my little brother too, but that would just be weird." Anders considered the context there. "I mean, I only had the one brother, and he was older. Nothing like you. Youngest. Totally spoilt."
Artemis huffed a laugh, smiling past the angry lump in his throat. "Spoilt. Yes that explains a lot. Does that make you the Carver of your family? Maker."
"I prefer to think of myself as the Bethany of the family," Anders replied. "Gorgeous, magical, and terrifying."
"As long as you are gorgeous, magical, and terrifying away from her," Artemis said sweetly. "Even better if you’re gorgeous, magical, and terrifying and within reach of that other bottle over there." He gestured vaguely in the direction of the nightstand.
Anders smirked and took the empty bottle from Artemis, stretching to grab the next full one. "I’d say pace yourself, but I doubt you’d listen," he said as he pressed it into Artemis’s hand.
"He is pacing himself. It’s just a very rapid pace." Cormac laughed against Artemis’s chest. "A decent clip. The kind that says, ‘Oh, Maker, we’re none of us drunk enough for any of this bullshit.’ Which is probably the truth of it. Especially you, Anders."
"I can’t drink. You know that." Anders looked vaguely uncomfortable.
"Which is why we got you all that ridiculously sweet stuff with the strawberries." Cormac grinned and nibbled at Artemis’s chest, in a way he was sure would get him swatted. "And I met your ‘can’t drink’. He’s got nice shoulders. Or, that’s what Isabela thinks, anyway. I think my shoulders are nice enough for all three of us."
Anders sighed. "I used to have nice shoulders. You should have seen me when I was a Warden."
"You’ve still got nice legs," Cormac pointed out.
"And a lovely flagpole," Artemis added, the bottle against his lips distorting the sound, "which is even lovelier in jade." He chuckled, making Cormac’s head bounce on his chest.
Anders grinned, settling back into the pile. "I thought you’d like it," he said. "Might reach places Fenris couldn’t." And then Anders wanted to bite his tongue, because, really, he shouldn’t be mentioning Fenris right now. And he didn’t want to, not without quite a few expletives tacked onto the name.
Artemis chuffed, expression twisting. "There’s a joke there about that glowy ghost-thing he does," he said, going for the obvious quip instead of lingering on that too long. "Reaching things was never really his problem." Which was fine, since the ass had enough other problems.
"Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts." Cormac rubbed his brother’s thigh. "Why don’t you tell Anders how your smalls ended up under his pillow? I’m not sure I did the story justice."
"Justice had nothing to do with that, neither in person nor conceptually." Anders laughed squeezing Artemis’s hips, before he reached for another strawberry cream cake. "But, I suspect I did get the abridged version. And I’m so sad I wasn’t invited. Justice, however, seems to be somewhat relieved."
"Justice needs to get laid," Cormac muttered. "I should have talked him into Isabela, while we were in the Fade. You’d be better for it."
"If I haven’t been able to talk him into it after all this time, I doubt even you could," Anders said with a mouth full of cake. "Not to cast aspersions on your abilities."
"Is there even anything under all that armour to get laid?" Artemis asked. "I mean, his head was like a bucket. Is there even a face under there, let alone a knob?"
Anders paused mid-chew, gaze turning far away for a moment. "I don’t think Justice likes you discussing his knob."
"So he has one?"
"Not sure," Anders sighed. "But either way, I don’t think the spirit is willing. But go on. Tell me the Smalls Story. Cormac said something about you in a corset?"
Artemis let out a nervous laugh, passing a hand in front of his eyes. "Maker, that. Yes. Blame Aveline. And rum. Who knew those two things could be such a frightening combination?"
"I did!" Cormac raised his hand. "And what were you even doing getting drunk with Aveline? Somehow, I never heard this part of the story. You muttered something about a corset shop in Lowtown, but… Oh, tell me where that is, when we’re less drunk, would you? Anders thinks my ass needs to come in pretty colours."
"No, I think I need to come in your pretty-coloured ass." Anders grinned at Cormac over Artemis’s shoulder. "Still, most shops don’t stock things like those smalls in your brother’s size. He’s a little larger in the hips and smaller in the ass than most ladies."
"I’m for anything that ends in you coming in my ass." Cormac grinned and pinched Artemis’s thigh. "Weren’t you telling a story?"
Artemis swatted his brother’s hand away. "Yes, yes," he sighed. "Well… I took Aveline out for drinks because I was hoping she could give me some advice."
"What advice were you asking for that it ended in green panties?" Anders asked. Then his brow smoothed over, and he realised. "Ohh. Does this have to do with you, Fenris, and a distinct lack of earthquakes?"
Artemis groaned and let his head thunk back into Anders’s shoulder. "Does everyone know about that? There really are no secrets in Kirkwall."
"Earthquakes generally aren’t the most subtle thing. But go on."
"So, anyway," Artemis continued. "Aveline and I got drunk off our asses as I explained the situation. ‘Nice underwear’ was the least objectionable of her suggestions, and she told me she knew a place. And no, Cormac, I don’t know if I could find it, sober or not. I was much too drunk, and she was much too lost. I’m surprised we even made it back to the mansion."
"Andraste’s ass. Can you please not get that drunk in public? Even and perhaps especially with the captain of the guard? It’s not your virtue I’m worried about, it’s just you getting stabbed in the face." Cormac rubbed his cheek against Artemis’s chest. "You’ve got a very nice face. I’d hate for Anders to have to put it back together from scraps."
Anders stuck his strawberry cream covered fingers in Cormac’s mouth. "Shut up, Cormac. Your brother’s talking about Aveline putting him in a corset. Does this involve as much giggling and lace-pulling as I imagine it does? If not, don’t ruin my illusions."
Artemis huffed and rolled his eyes. "Hooks, not laces," he said. "And more swearing than giggling, at least on my end. There were also these… ribbon things." He gestured over his legs in a zigzag pattern. "Hard to explain. I looked hot, though." He did, even if he hadn’t been too thrilled with the idea at first. "I think Aveline paid for it, which was sweet. I’d say I owe her drink, but I have a feeling that would end in her getting me a thong."
"Now there’s a picture," Anders said, looking over Artemis’s body suggestively.
"No," Artie said with a flat look. "I draw the line there." Anders opened his mouth to proest, and Artemis shook his head. "Don’t, or I’ll start talking about Justice’s knob again. Do you want the story or not?"
"Yes," Anders sighed.
"Good. So, moving on… we stumbled back to the mansion — Maker knows how — and we found Fenris and Cormac in the drawing room. Oh, and I was wearing the new corset under my robes. And then… Maker, what even happened next?" He looked down at the top of Cormac’s head, his hand sliding out of his brother’s hair to rub at his nape.
Cormac tongued Anders’s fingers out of his mouth. "Shit, I don’t remember. I was just as drunk as you were. … Oh! You said Aveline got you drunk and took you shopping, and I kept pestering you to show us what you’d bought. I don’t know. It was Aveline. I was expecting something completely bizarre, but not… I was not expecting to find out a woman bought my brother underwear."
Anders shoved his fingers back in Cormac’s mouth, as Cormac started to laugh, holding his tongue until the cackling let up. He wiped his fingers on Cormac’s cheek, smiling at Artemis, the whole time.
"And then you got stuck in your robe, so I got up to help you out of it. I thought maybe you’d gotten Fenris’s name tattooed on your ass, and I was winding up to be so pissed. And then Fenris and I almost choked on our tongues. Corset. Neither of us were expecting the corset. I think I said something about your hot ass, and then Fenris got all sappy and shit. I don’t know, I was trying to drink myself into oblivion, because at the time, I was pretty sure that I really shouldn’t have wanted to get down on my knees and lick your legs, but I was drunk and you were wearing ribbons."
Artemis continued his ‘rapid pacing’ with the bottle as Cormac spoke, until this last bit forced a hysterical giggle out of him. "I remember thinking I liked the way you were looking at me," he admitted, in that warm, floaty headspace only alcohol could bring him to. "Both of you." And now his knob was definitely poking at Cormac just thinking about it.
Artemis coughed and cleared his throat. "But yes, then… then Fenris said… something." His face fell. "‘All of you’, he said. ‘I love all of you’, magic and all. The lying little shit."
And, yep, Artemis was definitely not drunk enough for this. He suspected he could drink all the whiskey and rum in the world, and he’d still never be drunk enough for this.
"I don’t think he was lying, Artie. I just think there are still things he loves more than you. That’s what demons do, right? They exploit those things you don’t think are going to come back and bite you in the ass. Shit, you heard what it said to me, and I wish you hadn’t, but there it is. You have to know how hard it was for me to turn that down, but I knew it was lying. I knew in my bones, in the way we know because we’re mages. He’s not like us. We can say he should have known, but… He couldn’t have. The thing got into his head, and he wasn’t ready for it." Cormac pressed his lips to Artemis’s chest. "Enough of this. This isn’t the sexy part of the story. Skip it."
Anders wrapped an arm around Artemis’s waist and kissed the top of his head. He said nothing, but the way the flagpole pressed itself against Artemis’s back, he didn’t have to. He hoped the kisses would say more.
"Skip to the part where I told him to eat your ass, and he looked at me like I was crazy. You’d think he’d never heard of such a thing, before!" Cormac laughed, maybe a little too loudly.
That made Artemis wonder, in hindsight, if maybe he hadn’t. And that just led to questions he wasn’t sure he wanted to ask. He paused to wet his throat, twice, before he continued.
"He said he wanted me on my knees," Artemis explained, shivering at memory of those words on Fenris’s lips. "And Cormac suggested… that. Cormac was so very helpful." He paused to tousle Cormac’s hair. It tickled where it touched his skin. "And, Maker, but Fenris did it. Not sure he knew what he was doing at first, but he is a fast learner." Artemis closed his eyes to better picture it, to remember it. "Maker, his tongue was… He kept making these growling sounds as he was doing it." The thought made him laugh even as his hips squirmed under Cormac.
"Now I really wish you’d invited me," Anders said.
Cormac stretched and twisted, not so subtly pressing his side against Artemis’s knob. He tipped his head back and nipped under his brother’s chin. "Oh, I wanted to, Anders. But, you know how Fenris gets. I might have said your name once, and I thought he was going to start removing my internal organs."
"I could see where that might ruin the mood," Anders admitted. "Even for you."
"Oh, haaa. You’re funny." Cormac did not look amused, but he dragged his nails down Artemis’s thigh and kept talking. "You told me to stay, Artie. I remember that. He didn’t look pleased, but you wanted me there, so you got me. And you threw your smalls in my face at some point, too. But, I was lying there on the couch, drinking to forget — and I may never forget the parts I still remember — just watching you rock your hips against his face, and I knew what you wanted. And I knew what Anders and I always did for you. And I don’t remember the next part. I don’t remember how it happened. Probably panic. I know I suggested he get you something to grind on… but… how we got from there…"
Artemis laughed weakly. "I’m not sure I remember either," he lied. "Something about a pillow… an embroidered one, I remember that. Which… ow. Next thing I know, you’re… I’m… we’re…" He remembered the heat of Cormac’s body under his, that same heat that was pressed to his side even now.
How had they gotten there? Through sheer madness, that’s how.
Anders kept quiet, but his flagpole told Artemis that he was extremely interested in this story. And if Artie kept telling this story while he was drinking like this, he was going to end up doing something regrettable. He went on with the story anyway.
"Cormac took care of the grease, which was… something else Fenris didn’t seem to have heard of. And then he was pushing into me, and oh." Artemis sighed at the memory and bit his lip.
"Tell me what he’s like, Artie. Tell me how he fucks." Cormac squirmed, trying to keep himself in check. "All I could feel was you rutting against my ass. He was growling, you were making those desperate little noises you make, when you don’t want anyone to hear how much you want it. It doesn’t work, by the way. Anyone who’s ever been close enough to hear you knows exactly how much you want it. Maker’s breath."
Anders reached around Artemis and pinched one of Cormac’s nipples, digging in his nail and tugging at it.
Cormac arched, nearly drooling down Artemis’s chest. "Oh, shit. I know it was selfish. I know it was so fucking selfish, Artie, but I wanted you inside me so bad."
"Shit… Cormac…" Those words went straight to his knob the same way Fenris’s growls had. He sat up and tugged on his brother’s hair until Cormac was looking at him. "And I wanted you to scream for me the way you scream for Anders, but you were so quiet." His grip was tight in Cormac’s hair, just tight enough to sting, and Artemis tried to reel himself in.
Fenris, he reminded himself. His brother.
"Oh, fuck, Artie. I bit myself bloody. It wasn’t about me. It was about you. You and Fenris. I was part of the furniture. I was just there to keep you from shooting out all over the carpet." Cormac writhed with Anders still toying with his nipples and Artemis pulling his hair. "Do you want me to scream for you? You know I will. I will lie down and let you tear me apart. Just please, please put it in me, Artie. Shove your knob up my ass and fuck me bloody."
Cormac’s eyes drifted shut. That wasn’t what he’d wanted to say. That wasn’t something he’d ever wanted to say. He wanted that, sure, but there was a difference between wanting it and actually asking for it. Begging, really, in this case.
"Andraste’s tits," Anders breathed, biting his lip as he watched this go on in his lap.
Knuckles white in Cormac’s hair, Artemis stared down into his brother’s face and fought to keep himself in check. That desire demon could take a few pointers from Cormac. And, Maker, but there was a thought. What if they were still in the Fade? What if they’d never left and this was the real test?
"I can’t," he breathed. His lips were close enough to kiss, and when had that happened? "I want to. Maker, I want to, have wanted to for… but… Fenris. I love Fenris. I’m pissed as fuck all at him right now, but I can’t… I can’t do that to him." That was among one of the most painful things he’d ever said, aching as he was, wanting as he was.
"Then just let me hold you and stroke you off," Cormac sighed. His eyes didn’t open. "If this is something you want… Maybe after you patch things up with him, we can make him an offer. You get to fuck me until I scream, and he gets to watch you do it. If we both make sad faces at him, maybe he’ll let Anders watch, too."
"Without murdering me. Maybe he’ll let me watch without murdering me," Anders clarified.
"Indeed," said Artemis, turning towards Anders while still looking at Cormac, "that would be a waste of a fine knob."
"A knob I’d say he’s welcome to use," said Anders, "but that would almost definitely result in murder."
Artemis finally let go of Cormac’s hair, however reluctantly, and smoothed it all back into place. "But to answer you, Cormac," he said, voice coming out rougher than expected, "I think I would like that, yes." An understatement, especially just now, but that was all right.
Cormac sat up, the sudden rush of air against his skin a welcome coolness. This… He’d made it past thirty without seeing his brother this way, but with Anders between them, everything had changed. He’d started to see Artemis as a man, and not just as his brother. A terribly attractive man, who had apparently been looking at him much the same way, recently. ‘Have wanted to for…’ Artie hadn’t finished the sentence, but Cormac assumed it had been at least a few months. At least since the party.
He stretched out on his side and reached out to pull Artemis to him. "Going to watch us, Anders?"
"Oh, Maker," Anders breathed, watching the brothers intertwine, "it’s like my nameday and Wintersend wrapped up in one."
"I think that’s a yes," Artemis said, handing his bottle off to Anders, who placed it back on the nightstand without looking away. "That’s going to fall over if there’s an earthquake, you know."
Anders cursed under his breath and climbed off the bed long enough to stash their bottles somewhere they weren’t going to break or cause a mess. He couldn’t care less, but he knew how Artemis was about messes. Artemis, who was now making out with his brother on his bed. Sweet Andraste’s bosom.
Cormac’s mind was busy twisting itself into a pretzel as his hands moved over Artemis’s body. That was Artie’s body pressed against him, solid knob jabbing him in the hip. Artie’s ass in his hand. Artie’s tongue in his mouth. These were all things that had happened before, but not all at once. Not all unavoidably leading to the same conclusion — his brother actually wanted to fuck him, and the idea, the reality of it, really turned him on.
One hand slid down and squeezed Artemis’s ass, which now that he had a moment to really appreciate it, instead of trying to pretend he wasn’t, was an awful lot like his own, if a little thinner. But, Artie had always been thin, next to him and Anton. A little thinner, a little taller. It never meant anything, before. His other hand pushed up between them and hesitantly stroked Artemis’s knob. His hips rolled, grinding them together. He wanted this. Artie wanted this. Artie wanted it, and that made everything all right.
While Anders was still up, he asked, "Do you want me to find you one of Cormac’s toys? Then you can have something that’s not one of us. He can’t possibly complain about you enjoying a knob that’s not flesh."
Cormac coughed and looked down, then realised he was looking at his brother’s knob and turned his face down against the pillow, instead. "One of. I… yeah. I have a few. All different."
Artemis laughed, a bit breathless after that kiss. "Somehow, I’m less surprised by that than you’d think," he said. Toys. Toys his brother used, has used. And wasn’t that just one of the filthiest mental images he wanted to hold onto? "And now I need to see this collection, so I can tease you about it later, when I’m less drunk and the blood’s flowing in the other direction."
Artemis’s hand wandered over Cormac’s chest as he spoke, tracing the skin and muscle of a body he’d been telling himself he didn’t want, feeling the slide of coarse hair under his palm. He nudged his brother’s face away from the pillow with a hand on his chin, leaning in for another kiss, biting Cormac’s lip just hard enough to bruise.
Anders plopped a nightstand drawer onto the bed.
"Oh, fuck, all of them, Anders? Really?" Cormac leaned in for another kiss, distracting Artemis as best he could as he reached for the drawer. Clattering and thumping ensued. No, not this one. Not the tentacle one Isabela had gotten him. Not that stepped one. Where were they? Oh, there was the ridged one, but… no. Where the fuck had he… And then he saw Anders smiling.
"You didn’t think I wouldn’t know which one you were looking for, did you?" Anders produced two more from behind his back, smooth black and white marble. "I couldn’t decide if you’d be looking for yours or mine, but it had to be one of them."
"You didn’t think I’d be looking for the canary?" Cormac sounded a little strangled.
"For your brother? No. You have the canary for Isabela, and we both know it." Anders held them out, climbing back onto the bed.
Artemis pulled back and tried to peek at the drawer, pushing up on one elbow and craning his neck. "Wow, you… certainly have a variety," he said. Was that a tentacle? "Now I know what you spent most of your share of the Deep Roads fortune on." Artie was impressed.
He took the two Anders was holding out. While different sizes, their veined marble made them look like part of a set. He gave Anders a wry look and held one up. "Why do I feel like I’ve seen this one before? Only in jade?"
Anders’s wicked smile was answer enough. And that made him wonder where the other one had come from, though he supposed the answer should be obvious. "Is this one…?" He looked down at his brother’s knob automatically before laughing nervously and looking away.
"It’s… Yeah. It’s so when someone tells me to fuck myself, I can tell them I already have. I’m pretty amazing, you know. Or, well, I guess you don’t know. Not first hand. Not yet." Cormac kissed Artemis surprisingly gently, considering the preceding patter. "It’s your ass. It’s your choice. Anything you want, Artemis."
"Your brother may fuck himself, but for the record, I do not," Anders threw in. "Which makes both of you much braver men than I, and possessed of some profound intestinal fortitude. I’ve watched you both do it. I’ve felt you both do it. And my amazement will never cease. I must be doing some good work, somewhere, to have ended up with the two of you."
"‘Intestinal fortitude’," Artemis repeated, shaking his head. "Something else that’s genetic? No, never mind, I have too many siblings to want to think about that too closely."
And he wondered what it said about him that he did want to think about it in regards to Cormac, that he was holding a piece of marble in the shape of his brother’s knob and wanting it so bad his mouth was watering. He handed Anders back the other dildo with a smile that was more dazed than cocky. "I already have one of these at home," he said. "I’d like to try something different."
Artemis slid his chosen piece into Cormac’s hand, his heart pounding against his ribcage. They were crossing another line here, he knew, but they’d already crossed more than he ever thought they would. He tried not to think about what Fenris would think of all this.
Cormac’s chest tightened and he swallowed hard. Out of everything he had, Artemis had chosen this one — had chosen him. He greased his other hand, letting go of Artemis for just long enough to stroke grease onto the black marble. Slick, his hand closed back around his brother’s knob.
"Which way do you want it?" Cormac reached over Artemis’s thigh, nudging the dildo against him. "Like I’m behind you? Like I’m right here, in front of you? Like I’m kneeling across one of your thighs with your other knee bent over my shoulder? I’d go fingers first, but I know you like it big, and I’m… not really that big." He shrugged and glanced down at their knobs, which weren’t so very different. Artie’s a little longer, his own a little thicker. Much like the rest of them.
Artemis arched into Cormac’s touch, face pressing into the pillow. "I want to see you," he breathed, clutching at Cormac’s shoulder, at the back of his neck. Words came tumbling out in a drunken, impassioned heap. "I want to watch your face so I know you know what you do to me."
And there he was, dangerously close again to confessing something he didn’t dare admit to even himself, something he’d kept long buried for so many years. Something he’d been so sure his brother would hate him for.
"Oh, fuck, Artie. You’re killing me." Cormac writhed and shuddered, breath warm against his brother’s lips. Trying to get his head back together, he turned the dildo so it faced the same way as his knob and gently, slowly, eased the cold marble into Artemis. Stone slid so much more easily than flesh, but he kept it achingly slow, watching Artemis’s face, the whole time. Waiting for everything to fall apart, for Artemis to suddenly change his mind, for something to go wrong.
His other hand caressed Artemis’s knob, long reverent strokes of fingers over skin. "Show me. Show me what I do to you."
Artemis choked off a groan, hooking a leg over Cormac’s. The stone was cold and slick inside him and, Maker, this was his brother, entering him with what was, for all intents and purposes, his knob. "Cormac," he groaned against his brother’s lips, pressing in for another, breathless kiss. He clutched at his brother’s arm, his shoulder, his back, his hair. "Keep talking. I love it when you talk." His voice wasn’t Fenris’s sinful growl, but he said the most deliciously wicked things.
Behind him, Anders barely dared to breathe. His hand ghosted over his own, very interested knob.
"Thought you wanted me to scream for you," Cormac joked. The world spun around his head, dizzyingly. This was good. This was incredible, and no one was hurting him or touching his knob, and he did not care at all. "You’re my world, Artie. My whole fucking world. I can’t believe you want me like this, want me up inside you, grinding against you. You… I don’t know when it happened. Watching you ride Anders like that… You just … when did you get so beautiful, Artie?"
He sounded so honestly amazed, finally too far in to be afraid. His hands moved out of time with each other, as he pressed himself against Artemis, stroking them both together. His brother’s knob in his palm, he reminded himself, but with Artie looking at him like that, he had no resistance left in him. He could have this. His other hand moved in an imitation of his hips, bobbing and grinding the marble knob into his beautiful brother’s ass. And that thought ran a shiver down his spine. How had they come to this? Did it matter?
Anders settled back on his heels, just watching them touch each other. This, he knew, was what love looked like. He’d seen those looks before. Once upon a time, he’d seen those looks aimed at him. He’d looked at someone like that. He was so lucky to be here with two men who loved each other so much. The warmth just spilled off them, and he revelled in it as his hand stroked over his own flesh. They were so good to him.
Artemis’s breath hitched as Cormac ground the toy in just right, and he arched his hips to keep hitting that angle, rocking back and forth between marble and skin. "Cormac." He said his brother’s name like a mantra. More words spilled out of him, unchecked, between breathy sighs.
"Always thought there was something wrong with me for wanting you like that," he panted, sheets bunching under him as he writhed. "I saw you once with that farmer boy in Lothering. Your voice shook the walls, and — oh — I wanted to know what it was like to touch you like that."
"You’re fucking perfect, Artemis. That why you’ve been looking at me funny for fifteen years?" Cormac stole a lingering kiss, bobbing the dildo against that spot that made Artie writhe so prettily. "Was it in the summer? Out in the barn, when he took that knife to me, and made me bleed all over the hay?" Cormac’s thrusts into his own hand, against his brother’s knob, grew more forceful at the memory. At the idea of Artemis watching him. "I drew the lines. I drew the lines and begged him to cut them into me. I didn’t think he would do it. Did you hear me beg him for it, or did you just hear me scream when I took him into me and he started cutting?"
"I… I heard everything," Artemis breathed, voice ragged. "I saw… I saw everything. I…" And, Maker, he knew he shouldn’t have. He remembered watching, mouth agape, and knowing he should walk away, forget ever seeing that, but Cormac’s face had twisted so beautifully. "Maker, you were… you are…"
A groan caught in his throat as he started to tremble, fingernails digging crescent-shaped marks in Cormac’s shoulder. "Cormac, I’m… Cormac."
"Come for me, Artie. Just for me. Give me this," Cormac begged, grinding against Artemis, grinding that stone knob into him in time with his hips. "Shake the floor. Break my bed. Shake me to pieces. I want you. I want this. Fuck, Artie, can you feel how hard I am, just for you? You do this to me. And one day, I want to feel you do that to me, too. I want to see my blood on your hands. I want to scream for you. I want your name on my lips when I beg you to break me."
Cormac knew he wasn’t going to follow his brother over, but Anders probably wouldn’t either, and even if he did, that was Anders. He’d be good for more for hours, yet. Maybe he could talk them both into tearing him up a little.
"Maker," Artemis all but whimpered, breathy groans turning into short, choked-off shouts and curses. The bed started to shake, as if on cue. Cormac’s toys rattled inside their drawer, and the headboard clattered against the wall. Each thrust sent sparks up Artie’s spine, and his toes curled as he came over his brother’s hand and knob.
"Oh, shit," he was panting as he came down, everything still hazy at the edges. "Oh, Cormac. Oh, shit. I…"
"You all right?" Cormac asked, quietly, raising his hand to his lips to lick it clean, before stroking Artemis’s side. "Didn’t break anything, did we?"
Cormac found himself suddenly unsure if this was the good kind of ‘oh shit’ or the kind he should be worried about. But, he kept his face calm and warm, knowing that if he looked at all uncertain, this would become something he’d have to worry about.
"Break anything?" Artemis asked with a dazed smile. "I was going to ask you."
He stroked Cormac’s face with the back of his fingers, sensing the worry there even if he didn’t see it. He knew his brother and knew Cormac always worried about him. Even with Cormac’s skin against his, the moment still didn’t feel real. He wondered again if they were still in the Fade, wondered what kind of demonic genius they’d stumbled upon.
"I’m fine, Cormac," Artemis murmured, because, right now, he was. It hadn’t quite hit him yet what they’d just done, so ‘fine’ might not last, but… "Better than. You?" And it occurred to him in a flash of panic that Cormac might be the one with regrets, and he hadn’t even finished.
"Anyone ever tell you how good you taste? Almost as good as me," Cormac purred, rolling onto his back and stretching — hands pressing against the headboard, toes pointing and spreading. "I’m amazing, mostly… but, I’ve got one more offer for you. How about you and Anders pick through that drawer and decide how you’re going to ruin me? Make me scream for you. Both of you. Just no blades, Artie. Not yet. I want you sober when you cut me for the first time."
Anders tried to convince himself to let go of his own knob, but first off, that had been amazing and second, Cormac was still saying amazingly sexy things. "I bet you know a few things I don’t," he said to Artemis. "I bet I know a few you don’t." He pulled a long, slim metal object out of the drawer, studded with tiny beads.
"Oh, shit." Cormac’s hips rolled and his eyes widened. "Show him that."
Artemis slid the marble dildo out and tossed it to the far end of the bed to be cleaned later. He rolled up onto his knees as gracefully as he could considering how dazed he still felt. "Goodness," he said, taking the metal object from Anders and turning it over in his hands. "That’s a new one for me. I’m intrigued, even if a part of me was hoping you’d go for the tentacle."
Anders laughed and pushed the drawer out of the way so he could scootch closer. "Maybe later," he said.
Smirking, Artemis turned back to his brother, crawling over him until he was kneeling between his legs. "Maker, Cormac," he said, his free hand kneading one of his brother’s muscular thighs. "I swear, if there’s one in there in the shape of a dragon’s dick, I am leaving right now."
"Dragons? Oh, I… no. No dragons." Cormac shuddered. "No horses, either. Had to hear about how popular that one was… Didn’t… really want to know."
Anders moved closer and wrapped his hand around Cormac’s knob, holding it up for Artemis. He tapped one end of the rod and pointed. "That goes in here. I usually like to lick him a bit, first, and that definitely wants a bit of grease, no matter what he has to say about it — No, Cormac, I am not letting you do that again. I’ll let you do a lot of things to yourself, but I’m not watching that again."
Cormac sputtered and fell into a dramatic sulk, crossing his arms and glaring at Anders. "Fine. Use grease. But, it makes pissing feel funny for hours."
"You’ve got a knobby bit of metal crammed up your knob! You can’t tell me that doesn’t make pissing feel funny, after!" Anders stared at him in wide-eyed bafflement.
"Yes, I can. I can even do it without lying." Cormac shrugged.
"Grease," Anders assured Artemis.
Artemis was still trying to compute the ‘insert metal into penis’ part of this conversation. "This goes…? Wow. Definitely a new one for me." It wasn’t the sort of thing that would appeal to him, but he could see how Cormac would enjoy it, the darling nutcase. "Grease. Yes. I can do that."
His casting was a bit sloppier than Cormac’s or Anders’s, but the result was the same. He rubbed slick on the metal object and smoothed the rest over Cormac’s knob, his hand lingering for a few strokes. He marvelled at how painfully hard his brother was under his hand. "Was all this from me?" he asked with a wicked smile, looking up at Cormac’s face. He bent to lick the head of his knob, tongue pressing into his slit. "I’m flattered."
"All you," Cormac grit out, hands clenching in the sheets as that talented tongue teased him. "Had bruises from the last time."
Anders winced at the memory. "He did. Wouldn’t let me heal them, either. Well, not until I made them worse."
"Perfect opportunity. Couldn’t let you waste it, when I could get you to suck it purple." Cormac’s toes curled, and he bent his knee to stroke Artemis’s side with his foot. "Nibbling is good. I love a little bit of teeth. And if you bite just right at the corner, there, I’ll bleed for you."
"He might also come, if you do that," Anders warned, obviously having done this fairly regularly.
"I can keep it in!" Cormac protested, kneading his brother’s back with his toes. Actually, he had no idea if he could, but he’d try. That was Artie’s mouth on him. Frankly, he was a little amazed he hadn’t shot all over himself like a teenager, yet.
Artemis chuckled, his breath hot against Cormac’s skin. He nibbled where directed, but not hard enough to make it bleed. Just enough to keep Cormac frustrated. "Don’t want to finish before you’ve gotten to play with your toy, now, do you?" he asked, voice low and husky. He leaned down to nuzzle at the crease between groin and thigh before sitting back on his heels.
He fiddled with the metal object in his hand for a moment, careful to keep his uncertainty from showing on his face. He didn’t want to hurt Cormac, at least not accidentally, even if he was sure his brother would enjoy it. Darting a glance at Anders to make sure he was doing this right, Artie held Cormac’s knob steady with one hand and slipped in the toy with the other.
Cormac’s foot slid off his brother’s side, heel slamming into the mattress as the first ball slipped in. By the third, every breath was a raw, desperate sound. By the time it was all the way in, it was sheer force of will that kept him from screaming Artemis’s name. Something in the back of his head reminded him they were still upstairs, and there was nothing keeping Carver from hearing him. Or their mother. Everyone in the house was used to hearing him scream, but… there were limits to what they should be hearing him scream. Instead, a wordless keening poured out of him as his thighs and ass tensed.
"More," he panted, between jagged sounds. "It’s so good. Doesn’t hurt, just good. Aches. I want more. I need more."
Anders offered a wicked smile to Artemis and touched his finger to the end of the rod. "Watch this."
Cormac arched up off the bed, screaming at the top of his lungs, as the electricity raced through him. His hands clenched in the sheets, toes curling so hard his feet seemed to bend in the middle. His head tipped back, baring his throat. "Yes! More! Squeeze tighter. Fuck me with it. And fuck, Anders, do that again."
Artemis swallowed, throat dry, as he watched his brother writhe, as he felt his brother’s screams in his bones as well as heard them. "There we are," he purred. "Those are the sounds I was missing, you filthy thing." He pressed a kiss to the top of Cormac’s knob and pulled at the toy with his teeth, using his mouth to pull and push it in and out. His hands pressed Cormac’s thighs into the bed, digging his nails into the muscles.
When Artemis pulled back and licked his lips, Anders pressed his finger back to Cormac’s knob and sent another jolt arching through the metal.
More ragged screaming followed. "Fuck! Fucking wring it out of me! I’m so fucking close!" Cormac was surprised and more than a little frustrated he’d held out this long, but after all these years, even the sight of Artemis kissing his knob wasn’t quite enough. And there were a hundred ways he was sure that was both unforgivable and exactly the way it should be.
"Either take it out or hold on tight. If he goes with that inside him, it’s not staying in, if you’re not holding it," Anders warned. "One more jolt would probably tip him over, but I think it should be you."
Wrapping his hand around Artemis’s, he curled their fingers tightly around Cormac’s knob, thumbs pressing against the ring-end of the rod. "Thumb goes in here. Little circles. Don’t be afraid to really squeeze him. Have you really watched his face, when he goes over? Great view, this time, but I suppose you’ve watched him over my shoulder. I love that dazed look, when the screaming stops."
Artemis did as he was instructed, eyes on Cormac’s face all the while, and he hardly dared to blink, wanting to remember every agonised expression he was making. He wondered what would happen if he tried to make the metal piece quake the way he did with the stone dildos, but he didn’t dare try it just yet, unsure if he had that kind of control. But a shock he could do, even if it came out a bit stronger than he would have liked.
"Come for me, Cormac," he said, voice dark with want.
There was no need for a request. Cormac had already arched, teeth clamped shut, eyes wide and unseeing. His shoulders pulled back sharply, and his toes stretched and twitched. His hands gripped the sheets so hard they untucked. And he throbbed so very hard in Artemis’s hand, dribbling around the rod inside him. It went on and on, the crackling along the underside of his skin eventually giving way to a tingle. Finally, he sagged back against the bed, panting and whimpering.
It took him a good minute or two to find his hand and a bit longer to actually move it, but he stroked Artemis’s wrist, fingers still shaking. Words. He was sure he’d known some, once.
"Thank you," he breathed, finally, and so much more swirled in his eyes. That last jolt had been a little much, a little difficult to scream when you couldn’t breathe out, but this was his brother. This was Artemis, not Anders (who was rightly a master of the magical bedroom arts).
"C’mere, let me hold you," he slurred, still trying to remember how words went together. "Five minutes, Anders, and then my ass is all yours."
"You look like you could use the break," Artemis said with a laugh and a crooked smile. Maker, but he’d loved having that kind of control over Cormac, loved watching him writhe and shake apart, all because of him.
He crawled up and to the side, curling against Cormac’s side and wrapping an arm around his waist. He was used to wrapping an arm around a much slimmer waist, used to cushioning his head on a bonier shoulder, used to the tickle of lyrium where skin met skin. The thought made his heart ache, like it did when Fenris clutched it so gently in Fade-blue hands. He nuzzled under his brother’s jaw and pushed these thoughts from his mind.
Anders picked his way across the brothers to wrap himself around Cormac’s other side. Reaching down, he tugged carefully at the ring, easing the rod back out of Cormac’s body, amid gasps and groans. He tossed it toward the foot of the bed and set about gently wringing the rest of the trapped fluid out of Cormac’s softening knob. Andraste’s knickers, had they just done that? He was willing to operate under the assumption they had, from the evidence, and it was the be-all end-all of stories for him and Cormac to pant into each other’s ears, when they were alone. For a moment, he almost wished Cormac loved him like that, but he knew how that ended. Love was just another thing for the demons and the templars to take away, another thing for them to corrupt, another thing that would get innocent people killed in his name — but how innocent was Cormac, really? The man had been at his shoulder through things he would never have expected anyone to follow him into, never expected anyone to support him in. Still, Cormac deserved better than his madness, and likely a death on his shoulders if not at his hands. No, Cormac had no business being in love with him. Things were perfect, just like this.