Apr 062015
 

Title: Rhapsody in Ass Major – Chapter 7
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Artemis Hawke , Anders , Fenris
Rating: E (L2 N3 S4 V1 D1)
Warnings: Drinking, Anders is fucked the fuck right up, Artemis isn’t much better, lots of snogging, blowjobs, zero relationship skills
Notes: The party downstairs continues, and Fenris learns that mages do have some uses.


Downstairs, the situation had not improved. By some standards, it had gotten worse. Anders remained inhumanly tall, even with Fenris’s fist clenched around his neck, and he plucked the bottle of… whatever that was from Fenris’s other hand, attempting to choke down a couple of shots before his throat closed entirely.

"Apples?" he wheezed, squinting at the label and holding the bottle well above Fenris’s head.

"I like apples," Fenris snarled, trying to figure out how to get the bottle back without letting go of the mage’s throat.

Artemis blamed the alcohol for this on multiple levels. "Why?" he sputtered, stumbling over to them. "What are you — what?" He tried to pry them apart, only to remember he needed two hands for that and that one was occupied. He pressed his bottle into Fenris’s grabbing hand, earning him a confused look from his new elven drink-holder.

"No. No choking." Artemis tried to pry them apart, this time with both hands. "Unless he’s into that," he added with a giggle. "Are you into that?"

"I’ll try anything at least once," Anders replied hoarsely, smirking even while his face was turning purple.

"Only once?" Artemis muttered. He knew for a fact this wasn’t the first time Anders had been strangled. Or the tenth.

Fenris growled, glowing white-hot but letting Artemis pull his arm away. "If I choke you, mage, it won’t be for your benefit."

Anders rubbed his throat, cough turning into a sharp laugh. "But it will be for your benefit? Figures you’d be into that. The leather was a big hint." Anders took another swig from Fenris’s bottle, eyes locked on the elf. "Mm, feels nice on a sore throat."

Artemis found himself with an armful of angry elf, putting all his weight into preventing a murder in his new basement. "Maker! Anders, stop provoking him!" Once Fenris had stopped snarling, he snatched the bottle from Anders and held it safely away from both of them. "Maybe I was better off upstairs," he mumbled, taking a drink. Mm. Apples.

"But, if I stop provoking him, he’ll stop squeezing my soft parts," Anders teased, completely unable to stop.

Fenris looked strangely wary, even as he bared his teeth, speaking to Artemis, even as his eyes never left Anders. "There are far fewer drinks worth drinking, upstairs."

"And speaking of drinks worth drinking…" Anders adjusted himself blatantly and leaned down to examine another row of bottles. This was never going to work, without a bottle for each of them. And if he drank the whole bottle… well… he was a healer. He’d done worse.

Justice made a concerted effort to disagree with this entire turn of events. Especially the strangling part, however pleasing it had been to be that close to the Fade, again. But, no, this would not stand. Drunkenness, strangling, that completely distracting brush of cloth against a part of their anatomy that had no business being that interested in any of this . Especially the strangling. No more strangling.

As Anders continued to argue with himself over the finer points of the situation and whether whiskey or gin would be more situationally appropriate, Fenris pulled Artemis to him, tightly, roughly kissing the only bearable Hawke.

"Do you think we could find a better use for this?" Fenris asked, tapping the bottle in his hand against the bottle Artemis had ended up with. "I like apples. I like you. I don’t like him, but we could leave him here to drink himself into stupidity, alone."

He would not admit to watching the way the abomination moved. He had seen that body in silhouette, and that was more than enough. It was, he thought, a rather fine body, and a damned shame it was wasted on such trash. He could have been delighted with a rogue with a body like that, but it wasn’t enough to excuse a mage. More specifically, the most annoying, loud-mouthed, whiny mage in all of Thedas. Still, his eyes lingered, even as he shamelessly squeezed Artemis’s ass.

For his part, Artemis focused on Fenris’s lips, if not what they were saying. A part of him had worried he’d never kiss those lips again, and that night — morning? — in the tent had been all he’d have of Fenris.

Artemis didn’t so much kiss Fenris as he fell onto his mouth. He would have been embarrassed by the pleading sound in the back of his throat were he sober enough to care. Speaking of, he thought as Fenris growled and pinned him to the wine rack, he really should try this sober some time.The bottles rattled at Artemis’s back, their necks burrowing holes in his spine, but that was a concern for later.

It took Artemis embarrassingly long to remember Anders, and he looked up at his fellow mage over Fenris’s shoulder to find him watching them shamelessly, as though they were his after-dinner entertainment. The elf bit at Artemis’s collarbone, making him shiver, and Anders smirked, saluting him with his new bottle. Artemis didn’t see Fenris watching Anders in turn.

"Don’t mind me," Anders said, leaning back against the wall to enjoy the view. "Go right ahead. Can’t say I’ve ever seen wine-rack sex before, so I’d like to take some notes."

Fenris growled, his nose still buried in Artemis’s neck but his eyes on Anders. He squeezed Artemis’s ass hard enough to make him squeak. "We do not need your running commentary," he said.

"Are you sure?" Anders asked sweetly as he straightened and approached them, that grin promising trouble. "Because your technique could use improvement. Shall I demonstrate?" Before either of them could protest, Anders had a hand in Artemis’s hair, and his lips on Artemis’s lips. Maker, but the man could kiss!

Fenris found himself pinned between the two mages. He could get out of this, but he wasn’t sure he could get out of this without hurting Artemis, who was currently distractedly rocking his hips between Fenris’s thigh and hand, while still lip-locked with the most annoying mage in all of Thedas. The most annoying mage in all of Thedas, whose knob throbbed against Fenris’s back.

"I did not fight for my freedom, just to be stuck between fucking mages fucking!" Fenris snarled.

Anders hummed quietly into Artemis’s mouth. "Are we leaving you out? My mistake."

He rolled his hips, pressing Fenris closer against Artemis, and then pulled back to nibble at the tip of Fenris’s ear. A long stripe along the back edge, in just that place that every elf he’d ever fucked had liked tongue. Trust him to be wrong, this once. This elf was not every elf, as the teeth that sank into his chest reminded him.

Anders heaved out a breath, kissing Artemis brutally, all teeth and tongues, wet and hard. It was a horrible position, and Fenris wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long — or at least that’s what Anders thought until he felt the bruising start in earnest, the wet rush just below his screaming skin. The bottle dropped and he grabbed Fenris by the hair.

"No blood. Hurt me all you want, but no blood." The fear in his eyes was plain and equally plainly not for himself.

"You think you have a choice, abomination? You think I have any reason to obey anything that comes out of your filthy mouth?" Fenris snarled, mouth still full of tunic and pinched flesh.

"I’m a Warden, you feral elf-beast! And you’ll either end up a Warden or dead, if you don’t stop biting me!" Anders hissed.

Fenris stopped trying to tear a piece out, but didn’t let up at all. It wasn’t the ‘dead’ part. Mage threats were a waste of his time. It was the ‘Warden’ part. "What?"

Anders sighed, massaging the base of Artemis’s skull with one hand, and longing for the bottle that had been in the other. "Wardens. It’s not all fun and games and killing darkspawn. It’s in the blood. Literally. And I didn’t stick around long enough to find out what happens if you drink the blood of one, but I got the impression it ranked somewhere in the vicinity of vampirizing a hurlock, in terms of recommended ideas."

Fenris spat and wiped his mouth with the hand holding the bottle, his other hand still enjoying the firmness of Artemis’s ass.

"Yeah. I’m yours, tonight. Both of you. Do what you want with me, but don’t draw blood." And there was that singing sweet destructive urge Anders had missed so much. Fenris just pushed those buttons for him, and he wanted them pushed harder. It wouldn’t end in him getting dragged back to the tower, if he shoved too hard, this time, it would end with him dead. Justice objected, but look, there were two other wonderful hosts, right here. And one of them certainly had enough injustice in his life to welcome the power to change it. Maybe even the other, if Justice wanted another shot at the same cause, with a little better footing.

"And someone hand me that fucking bottle, because I need him to shut up." Anders let go of Fenris’s hair, but kept rubbing his thumb in circles behind Artemis’s ear. "Not you. Or you."

Artemis was still trying to count the hands touching him. It took a bit for Anders’s words to catch up with him, but he frowned when they did. "Just the blood, right?" he asked. "No ill effects with any other, er, bodily fluids?"

Anders made a face. "Are you asking if sucking my dick would make you a Warden?"

"I… er…"

"Would explain why you signed up," Fenris rumbled, his teeth around Artemis’s earlobe. Anders had to concede the point.

Taking another drink, Anders watched Fenris’s hands as they slid over Artemis,all long fingers and square knuckles, mapping the lay of the land. His own played with Artemis’s hair and nape, then slid down to replace Fenris’s hand on his ass, three sets of hips forming an imperfect triangle. Artemis was starting to make those small, hitching sounds Anders remembered from the tent.

"Hang on," Artemis breathed, tugging half-heartedly at Fenris’s hair. "Are we really doing this? Do you want to? I mean, me, with both of you? What are the chances of all of us surviving this?"

Anders didn’t tell him that was rather the point. Justice’s disapproval flared where it had long since faded to background noise

"And… I mean, we’re in a wine cellar. I have a wine bottle poking at my ass, and that’s lovely symbolism and all, but—"

Anders picked up a wine cork off the floor and pushed into Artemis’s mouth."How’s this for symbolism?" he asked. Artemis nodded and smiled sheepishly around the cork.

"Get yourself one as well," Fenris growled. From the vicinity of Artemis’s throat.

Anders smirked. "Here’s a riddle for you," he murmured in Fenris’s ear, ignoring the way the elf flinched back. "How can you shut up two mages at once?"

Fenris’s narrowed eyes said ‘by killing them’, but he waited. Anders answered by sinking to his knees. He rubbed his cheek against Artemis, before he started picking at the laces on Fenris’s leggings with his teeth.

Fenris opened his mouth to protest, but then Anders was mouthing at that extremely obvious bulge, and Fenris covered his sudden lack of commentary by pulling the cork out of Artemis’s mouth with his teeth and then replacing it with his tongue. He was insufficiently drunk for this. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be sufficiently drunk for this. But, at the same time, the most annoying mage in all of Thedas was volunteering to shut up and suck him off. There had to be a catch. Maybe he could choke the abomination to death. The corner of his mouth tilted up, and the kiss got more awkward, but it was still delicious. It was still Artemis .

Anders took advantage of his position on the floor to run a hand up the inside of Artemis’s leg, fingers dancing along the pressure points he knew were there, fingers lingering at the second-highest, just below where Artemis would, no doubt, outright squeal if he tried to put his hand, rhythmically stroking and pressing. His face, meanwhile, was pressed to Fenris’s crotch. He slid his teeth down the length that looked uncomfortably trapped along Fenris’s leg, squeezing just a bit at the tip and nearly taking a knee in the face for his trouble, before he returned to the laces. Fenris used some bizarre Qunari knots or something, because this was much more difficult than Anders remembered untying knots with his teeth being.

"The third loop from the top," Fenris sighed, disgustedly, looking down, for just a moment. "Do they not teach you proper knots in the circle? No, of course not, not if they want to keep you tied up. I can see the appeal."

And then his mouth was back on Artemis, rough little bites on the lower lip, the point of the chin, the line of the jaw. His hands wandered, eventually slipping under the back of Artemis’s tunic, and running straight into his belt. Mages. Mages and their stupid mage-clothes. Certainly Artemis was dressed much as any other man might be, but he was still a mage, and these were his clothes. Stupid mage-clothes. He huffed his annoyance against Artemis’s neck.

Artemiswas running into similar trouble with Fenris’s armour, which even asober person would need an instruction manual to navigate. In the tent, Fenris had kept his armour on, and Artemis was desperate to touch skin to skin, to trace lines of muscle and lyrium hidden under spikes and leather. He whined in frustration around Fenris’s tongue.

"I want to touch you," Artemis murmured against Fenris’s lips between kisses. "Please."

As if on cue, Anders finished undoing the knot, pulling open his leggings and kissing his knob hello.

Fenris shuddered. One mage begging, another servicing him on his knees. Maybe he was drunker than he thought, or maybe he was dreaming and at the mercy of a pair of lust demons. With the way Anders’s tongue felt, and the way Artemis was looking at him like he was something precious, Fenris thought he wouldn’t mind.

Anders held Fenris’s hip, keeping him still as he teased his knob with lips and tongue. Fenris struggled to focus, remembered Artemis had made a request. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away from heated skin and fumbled with his buckles. Artemis followed suit, undoing his belt and letting it clatter to the floor, his tunic following it soon after.

Slowly it filtered into Anders’s awareness that he was still wearing all of his clothes, and he was the last one. Good. That was fine. Let that happen. The less clothes everyone else was wearing, the more interesting this would get. The fingers he had on Artemis’s thigh moved up that last bit, pressing into the inside of the joint, in that one place that would either make him swoon or bust up laughing, and Anders wasn’t quite sure which one he was hoping for. Either would be amazing comedy as Fenris tried to figure it out.

And speaking of Fenris… Anders nuzzled the base of what was, by all appearances, a substantial knob, for an elf. He kissed and nipped and licked at the smooth skin around it, shifting the hand that held Fenris still to tug those tight leggings down a little more. No, really, a little … Andraste’s ass, but this elf was painted into his clothes. Finally, Fenris noticed and moved his leg a touch, and the leggings dropped another inch.

The feel of magic raced along the lyrium in Fenris’s skin, as painful and terrifying as it was pleasing. He reminded himself that he was in control. There was only one magister in all of Thedas who could successfully do anything that particularly mattered, and that magister was not in this cellar. Wasn’t even in the Marches, last he’d had word. So, there were just these two mages, the one with the pretty eyes and the incredible ass, and the one with the big mouth that was currently full of his balls. He took an unreasonable satisfaction in the latter, that went far beyond the erotic thrill, and that was saying something.

Anders’s hand pressed just so, and Artemis jumped, hips jerking and a rather unmanly squeak swallowed by Fenris’s lips. Fenris grunted in surprise,wrapping an arm around Artemis’s waist, pressing him closer and holding him still. Lyrium lines flared bright at all the new skin on skin contact, magic crackling down his spine, down his arms and to his fingers.

Wet heat engulfed his knob, and Fenris’s fingers flexed, nails digging crescent-shaped bruises into Artemis’s skin. "Venhedis," he cursed, and Anders chuckled around him, making him shudder.

As Fenris panted for breath, Artemis trailed kisses and tender bites along his neck, down to the jut of a collarbone. He threaded his fingers into Anders’s hair, massaging his scalp with a tenderness in sharp contrast to the violent jerking of Fenris’s hips.

Anders wondered if he still looked good in white, because if this happened the way he expected it to happen, spunk was going to shoot out his nose. Fenris had no skill, no finesse, and no sense of angle. And Anders figured letting Fenris twist him into a few little accidents of that variety would make him that much more endearing — to Artemis, anyway. Hopefully, proving he knew how to swallow would be enough to endear him to Fenris, even just for a few hours. Of course, the way Fenris was pounding into his mouth gave him little hope those few hours would yield much enjoyment, from that quarter.

The flicker of tongue and the way Anders swallowed around him, each breath ghosting across his wet skin, had Fenris trying to find a better way to stand, some smoother way to support himself, as his hips bucked and his legs began to tremble. Instead, he clung more tightly to Artemis, fingertips trying to smooth away the divets, after every time his hands clenched against this mage’s skin. "Artemis, please," he whispered, uncertain of what he was even asking for, but sure that Artemis could provide it.

Anders sulked. His mouth around Fenris, and the elf begged Artemis for more. Still, it was probably worth counting as an improvement over strangulation, even if he wasn’t breathing that much easier. His hand turned over and cupped Artemis’s junk, thumb tracing the contours. Maybe he’d get them both off, and then go bang Cormac through the garden wall, to work off the frustration.

"It’s all right, love," Artemis murmured, cupping Fenris’s cheek, brushing back his hair, and feeling him shiver. "I’ve got you." He could feel how close Fenris was, and he wanted to see it, wanted to watch him shake apart, like he had in the tent. But Artemis was far from done with him, and they were neglecting their guest.

The hand in Anders’s hair tugged gently. Everything about Artemis’s touch was gentle, and Anders wondered if he was always like that or if this was his way of balancing out Fenris’s roughness. Their eyes locked, and Anders followed his lead, pulling back and off of Fenris. Fenris snarled and grabbed for Anders’s head again his knob hitting Anders’s cheek instead, but Artemis intercepted him, distracting him with more soft words and a kiss.

"Damn… mages," Fenris panted. Artemis was sure they’d make it up to him.

Anders sat back on his heels, retrieving both hands and wiping the spit from his chin. "Not done with me already, are you?"

Artemis answered with a smirk. "Just getting started," he said, tugging at Anders’s coat. "Off, or I suspect Fenris will tear it from you. Are you into that?"

"Not when it’s my only coat."

The lighting in the cellar was dim, but it wasn’t dark. It wasn’t dark enough for Anders not to have to explain, if he stripped. And explaining was, quite possibly, the single most boner-ruining experience he could imagine, at this juncture. Still, he stripped off the coat and reached up to hang it on a bottle jutting from a rack they weren’t leaning on. The tunic would stay on as long as he could keep it. That would be cheap enough to replace, even if it did end up ripped off him.

Fenris was still growling his increasing displeasure, teeth worrying at the curve of Artemis’s jaw. Mages were a bad idea. This whole damn thing was a terrible idea, and he was sure the abomination had been angling for it, since they were in the Deep Roads. That or Cormac had really been too drunk to aim, which was technically also possible, given the amount of incoherent pleading and yowling. He’d have thought it was some freaky blood magic thing, but the abomination was so averse to bleeding and no one had actually used any magic, yet. Still, here he was, with his pants open, dripping with mage drool, and aching for more.

Anders kept an eye on Artemis. "Looks like you’ve got some ideas. Feel like sharing with the rest of us?"

Ideas? Artemis was much too drunk and aroused for ideas. What he had were wisps, thoughts, images (so many images) most of which he was certain were physically impossible, despite how fun they looked. He stared at Anders’s swollen lips, searching through the slag that was his drunken brain for the right words for what he wanted.

"I just thought you might prefer a scenario we’d all enjoy," he said, cupping Anders’s chin and tracing those lips with his thumb, stubble coarse against his skin.

"Speak for yourself," Fenris growled around Artemis’s skin. Unless Anders healed him later, he was going to have some interesting bruises.

Artemis smirked against Fenris’s ear. "You mean you wouldn’t rather be fucking one of us somewhere else?" That seemed fairly straightforward. He hoped Fenris wasn’t so drunk that that would need clarification.

Anders nipped at the thumb in his mouth and considered. "I’m flexible," he volunteered, expecting to end up in the middle.

"You," Fenris purred into Artemis’s ear. "I want you."

He absolutely did not trust the abomination. Which, of course, was why his pants were open, and there was mage spit drying on his knob. Of all the things Fenris wanted, commentary from Anders did not make the list — which meant either gagging him or just not giving him anything to comment on. Gagging him had a certain appeal, but just not touching him seemed like the safer choice, all in all. But, that left the question of whether Artemis wanted to be between them.

Stupid question, of course. Artemis had invited the abomination to join them. Stupid mages and their stupid mage-knobs, magically seeking each other out. He huffed against Artemis’s neck, and came back to the middle of something that was probably in some way important.

"—could just go on as I was, and pick up my ass for you," Anders was saying.

"No," Fenris growled, "you are not touching me again with your… with your mouth-sorcery!"

Anders raised an eyebrow. "Mouth-sorcery? Well, that’s a new one."

Artemis bit his lip against a giggle, wrapping an arm around Fenris’s shoulders and swaying against him. Fenris scowled at this mage too, though it was harder when he smiled like that.

"Well," Artemis said, still breathy with laughter, "I suppose that limits our options, don’t you think?" The smile he turned on Fenris was positively wicked, a look that went straight to his knob, and he knew he’d do anything Artemis asked.

Damn mages.