May 082015
 

Title: Rhapsody in Ass Major – Chapter 60
Co-Conspirator: TumblrMaverikLoki
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Fenris , Isabela , Cormac Hawke , Artemis Hawke
Rating: E (L3 N4 S4 V0 D1)
Warnings: Wow damn you can say that in Latin, buggery, zero relationship skills, the internet is for porn, gesticulating with dildo
Notes: Dear Fenris: Your head should not be among the things that go up your ass. Please see to that.


"Are they red?"

"No," Fenris grunted into his drink. He’d let Isabela order the drinks, and he wasn’t even sure what his was, exactly, other than alcoholic. That suited him just fine tonight.

Izzy pursed her lips and tried again, chin tucked into her palm. "Blue?"

"No."

"Are they… green?"

Fenris growled and shook his head. He would forever associate green with Artemis, after seeing him in that corset. Mint green against dusky skin… "No."

Isabela squinted at him. "Are you even wearing smalls?"

Fenris smirked. "No."

"I should have guessed!" Isabela shook her head and leaned back on her stool, one hand clutching the bar, to get a better look at Fenris’s backside. "In those pants I’d have seen the lines. Nothing there but smooth, pillowy booty. Do all elves have such fantastic asses?"

Fenris looked profoundly aggrieved. "My ass is not pillowy!"

"Looks pillowy from here. Maybe you’ll let me rest my head on it and find out for sure." Isabela grinned teasingly. It wasn’t that she was even that interested, not that she’d say no, if he offered, but he made the best faces when he was offended. She could completely understand why Anders spent so much time winding him up.

"Justice doesn’t get to use my ass for a pillow, and neither do you!" Fenris insisted, pouring the entire glass of whatever that was down his throat.

"And here I thought that was an objection to his Fade-flavoured sparklies. There’s not an ounce of magic in me, if you don’t count a little sleight of hand." She pinched his ass sharply as she sat back up.

He hissed at her, his ears bristling.

"What?" she asked, batting her eyes innocently. "I’ll let you pinch mine." She wriggled her ass, making the stool wobble.

"I appreciate the offer, but no." That didn’t stop him from taking a good look anyway. "And you’re one to talk about pillowy asses."

There was only one person who was allowed to use his ass as a pillow and, if that person was half as drunk as Fenris was, he was likely using someone else’s ass as a pillow.

Fenris pointed at his empty glass as Corff walked by, and soon he had a fresh supply of the swill.

"You want to find out how pillowy my ass is?" Isabela invited, shoving a few more coins across the bar. "A few more drinks to loosen you up, so you’re a little less pointy, and I’ll let you try it out. I’ll be honest with you, it’s pretty fluffy and soft. A very nice place to rest your head." She paused for a beat. "Either head."

Fenris looked like he might crawl out of his skin, but he said nothing, for a long moment, wide-eyed and tense. He chugged another glass of … whatever that was, he was ordering something less rank for his next drink. "Why?" he asked. It was a relatively safe question and it didn’t answer the question, either.

"Why not? I’m rarely averse to a good time. You look like you could do with a little loosening up. And, as you say, my ass is very pillowy." Isabela grinned. "Besides, I’ve heard some interesting stories about you. Kinky glowing finger tricks?"

Fenris’s glare threatened to burn a hole in the wall. Damn Cormac and his blathering, magey mouth. At least, he assumed it was Cormac… "I suspect that trick works best on mages," he said, "assuming it’s their reaction to the lyrium."

Not that Fenris had tried it out on any non-mages, so he couldn’t be sure. He supposed it was only fair, considering how often mages stuck their fingers in his business. He should be allowed to stick his fingers in theirs.

"Why is it always mages, ‘Bela?" Fenris complained into his drink. He was starting to slip into a more morose drunken state, and he usually saved that for when he could throw wine bottles at the walls. Which Artie never let him do anymore.

"Because mages are amazing in bed, my spiky friend. I’ve never had a bad time with someone who could bring the fearsome powers of nature into the bedroom." Shrugging, Isabela ordered another drink for herself. "I can see where maybe you’ve had some different experiences, there, but you’re not in the Imperium, now. There’s no magisters, here, just gorgeous, glitter-handed, fuckable mage-trash, and oh, I love the things that man can do with his hands. Cormac’s not bad, either."

"You let that abomination touch you?" Fenris’s face twisted asymmetrically, and he managed, just barely, not to look quite as entirely grossed out as he was.

"That abomination is handsome, tall, and extremely creative. And I’ve never seen him hurt someone who didn’t have it coming, so you watch your mouth, when you talk about him. He’s a good man, Fenris, just like you." Isabela looked slightly serious, for a split second. "And his other half has some very, very nice shoulders. Speaking of the Fade… what was in that book? Was it really what it looked like? Was that some naughty Tevinter sex manual?"

Fenris squirmed in his seat and took a long drink to keep from answering that for a moment. "I’m… not sure," he said, which was mostly true. "It clearly showed something different for each of us. I saw only pictures and not words, and they were…"

He had to take another drink just thinking about what they ‘were’. The drink didn’t help him collect his thoughts. If anything, it loosened them, sending them skittering out like marbles. "From the pictures, yes, I’d say that’s exactly what it was."

Isabela squealed and pulled her seat closer. "Too bad we couldn’t smuggle it with us," she said. She nudged Fenris’s elbow with hers. "Come on, sweet thing, tell me about these pictures."

"They were obscene. I do not know what else to say." More alcohol went into Fenris. If he kept adding drink, he’d stop caring, eventually.

"Didn’t you tell me there was a word for dick-sucking in there? Did you get pictures of that?" Isabela perched on the edge of her stool, pressed shoulder to shoulder with Fenris. "What else did it show you? Anything really interesting and unexpected? Anything you haven’t tried yet?"

"Yes, there was a picture. Less dick-sucking. More face-fucking. I don’t…" Fenris’s ears twitched. "Most of what I saw was… questionable, at best. If I didn’t know there were words to express those ideas, I would have thought them fully fictional fancies."

"Ohh, that sounds fun!" Izzy said with an exaggerated shiver. "Like what? Tell me!"

Fenris grappled with words for a moment, most of them in Tevene. "It’s… I would need to draw a diagram to explain it," Fenris said. "I can only draw when I’m sober." And he’d probably only want to while he was drunk. It was a conundrum.

Isabela pouted but let it be for now. "Oh well. What was that word again. Irrumambo?"

"Irrumabo," Fenris corrected, ears turning pink. "Roll your r’s. Accent on the second to last syllable."

"Irrumabo," Isabela repeated, her accent a little less terrible. "Hey, sailor," she purred, "I want you to irrumabo me!"

"That’s… that’s not… no." Fenris wiped a hand over his face. "That would be… irrumabis me. Or volo irrumare me. But those really shouldn’t be the first words in Tevene you learn."

"You got some better words I should learn first? I like to start with the angry words and the dirty words, because those are the ones you’ve got to watch out for." Isabela smiled like she wasn’t asking the guy who had trouble saying the word knob in a public place to teach her dirty words.

"I would think learning to ask for directions or order a drink might serve you better, as jumping off points." Fenris’s ears continued to twitch, and his eyes skittered away from Isabela. "I could teach you to talk about boats?"

"Boats are amazing, but, I think I’d rather talk about butts. Butts are also amazing, especially butts like yours. You’ve got a lucky boyfriend." Isabela sipped her drink and turned around on the stool, leaning back on the bar, so she could look Fenris in the face while he tried to explain these amazing words. "Come on, teach me how to talk about butts, in Tevene."

Fenris finished his drink and gestured desperately for another. "Please," he told Corff. Isabela just smiled at him sweetly, expectantly. "Well… uh. There are… multiple words. The most common word would be ‘natis’, which means…" He cleared his throat. "Means ‘buttock’."

"Just the one?" Isabela laughed.

"Just the one," Fenris said, nodding. "To discuss them both, you say ‘nates’. Magnae nates is how you would say a ‘great butt’. Oh! That would make you a ‘nauta magnis natibus‘." He snickered to himself. "‘A sailor with a great butt’."

"Oh, I like that!" Izzy laughed. "I should have that tattooed across my… mag… magnae nates."

Fenris cringed at her pronunciation.

"What other words are there?" Isabela asked. "You said there were a few."

Fenris gratefully accepted his new drink from Corff. Oh damn. He’d meant to order something else this time. Whatever. He drink it down anyway. "Well, there’s pugae. Again, magnae pugae for ‘great butt’. You know, if someone is depugis, it means they have a scrawny butt. So a… depugis magus is a ‘scrawny-butted mage’." He grinned. "Anders can have that tattooed."

"Hey," Isabela laughed. "I’ll have you know he was much less, what was it, ‘depugis’ when I first met him!"

"Be that as it may, nunc depugis magus est."

Isabela nudged him with her elbow. "Any other butt words?" she asked.

"Well, there is… um." Fenris coughed into his hand, ears turning red. "Culus. That is… a much ruder term, though. Specifically, it means the, uh. Well."

"The… uh… well?" Isabela teased. "Hmm… if you’re not saying it, then how is it you’ll play with it? What do you say to your Hawke-assed mage? ‘I want to put my er… um… in your uh, well…’?"

Fenris growled and took another drink. Trust Isabela to clear up his mortification by pissing him off, instead. "We don’t talk much." And that was such a lie. He could remember Artemis talking to him, asking for things Fenris would never be able to repeat. He didn’t talk much.

"Don’t you? What a pity. You’ve got a voice I could listen to all night long. You should be using that to your advantage." Isabela elbowed him again. "Come on, teach me some other fun words. Why don’t you teach me the words for all the things you do with your Hawke-assed mage, and I’ll try saying them to my Hawke-assed mages? I don’t know if Cormac speaks Tevene, but Bethany definitely does, at least a little. And Nevarran. She knows all the best Nevarran words. And if you tell me I couldn’t do the things those words are for, with Bethany, I’m going to really doubt your creativity."

His voice? He thought he remembered Artemis saying as much once, but he’d been very drunk then. They’d been very drunk often, really. "I do not need to know what you are doing with the other Hawkes," he muttered, though really, the thought of Izzy and Bethany… He cleared his throat. "And it… it means anus. Culus, that is."

Isabela smirked. "You say that so clinically." She dropped her chin and imitated his solemn growl, "‘It means anus’." She snickered into her drink. "Oh goodness, we should tell Anton that one! That’s begging for a ‘Cullen’s culus’ joke!"

Fenris groaned, slumping over the counter. "That is not an image I needed, Isabela," he said into his arms.

"Well, it’s the one I’ve got!" Isabela laughed loudly enough that half the bar turned to look. And then she glared, and they stopped looking. Turning back to Fenris, the sly smirk returned. "Never mind what I’m doing with my Hawkes. Tell me all about what you’re doing with yours. Tell me about your glowy finger tricks and all the kinky things you get up to. I’m sure there’s some amazing things I could learn from you. And if you can’t tell me, now, I’ll buy you drinks until you can."

"That would be an amazing amount of alcohol," Fenris remarked, finishing his drink. This time he remembered to order actual rum, and not whatever bilgewater slog Isabela had him drinking.

"That’s my boy!" Isabela paid for the bottle and Corff left it in front of them. "Drink up and teach me dirty things!"

He took a long pull of rum and — ah, that was much better. He saluted Corff with the bottle before setting it down. "I’m not really sure I can teach you, if it’s the ‘glowy finger tricks’ you’re interested in. Unless you’d like to sign up to have lyrium carved into your skin too, but I’m not sure that’s worth the sexual side-effects."

"All right," Izzy sighed, "but what do you do with it? Do you just stick your hand in and flail about? Oh, do you only phase your hands or is it your whole body? Is it like fucking a ghost?"

Fenris sputtered. "No! Just… just the hands!" Though that was an interesting question… no, he could only see that ending in disaster. No. Well, maybe. But no. "As for how it feels, you’d have to ask Artemis."

Isabela had a hand over her mouth as she looked at him, struggling not to laugh. "Oh, you’re so cute when you’re flustered," she crooned. "Your ears sort of vibrate."

"They— What." Fenris’s hands grabbed at his ears. "They do not vibrate. There is no part of me that vibrates." Not by itself, anyway. With Artemis, though, all of him vibrated, and in the best possible — nope. Not thinking about that. Not right now. His ears did turn bright red, though, and with assistance from the drink, the flush spread across his cheeks. He let go of his ears and they twitched.

"They do! It’s adorable!" Isabela reached over and pinched the tip of his ear.

Fenris turned faster than he’d thought he had in him, this drunk, and bit her fingers. "Do not touch my ears," he ground out around her fingertips.

Isabela petted his tongue. "Do you know where my fingers have been, today?" she asked, smiling sweetly. "‘Cause I could tell you. Or you could just guess."

Fenris spat her fingers back out and rinsed his mouth with rum. "As long as they weren’t anywhere near Cullen’s culus," he muttered, scowl giving way to a smirk.

"Not my fingers, no," Isabela said. She wiped off her hand on her tunic. "So you’re a biter, hmm? I had a feeling."

"I bite fingers that touch my ears," Fenris said warily.

"But I bet that’s not all you bite," Isabela purred. she bit her lip coyly. "Artie’s ‘magnae nates’ is just begging to be bitten."

"I don’t… um." Well, he did. Had.

"You don’t um? Yes you do. You just did," Isabela teased. "And if you’re not biting that booty, you’re doing it wrong."

"How would you know?" Fenris’s ears twitched again. He couldn’t imagine that Isabela would know. But, Artemis had obviously done those sorts of things before, and with other people, and … he’d never actually asked.

"He’s a Hawke. If you’re not nibbling the nates, you’re doing it wrong. That should be a verse in the Chant. It needs to be taught across the land to all people who can’t see the obvious. That is, assuming he inherited that shapely posterior. Bethy tells me Carver didn’t, the poor boy."

"I never needed to know that about Carver. Or about Bethany." At least she hadn’t said anything about Artemis. She probably didn’t know, first hand. He was still going to ask, at some point. Artemis, drunk, seemed likely to do just about anything, if that incident with the templar was anything to go by.

"Sure you did! You just don’t have a use for that information, yet!" Isabela poured him another drink. "All information is something you need to know, eventually. It’s just a matter of deciding where and when to apply it! And speaking of information I want to apply, weren’t you going to tell me some wonderful words for plundering booty? You seem like the plundering sort."

"P-plundering," Fenris stuttered, ears vibrating again. "Well, uh. The Tevene words depend on the kind of… plundering going on. As well as the kind of booty being plundered."

Isabela rested her chin in her hands and batted her eyelashes at him. "How wonderfully specific," she said. "Must save a lot of trouble, upfront."

Fenris wouldn’t know one way or the other. Venhedis, how had he ended up in this discussion? "The… most common is futuere," he said, looking down at his drink and swirling it around with one hand. "It… implies plundering a specifically female booty. Well. Not booty, but… Fasta vass. A man fucking a woman."

"So," Isabela said, drawing out that one syllable, "if I wanted to tell someone to ‘fuck me’?"

"‘Futue me‘."

"See? Useful information! But what about you and Artie? No female booties to plunder there."

"That would…" Fenris paused for another drink. Much more of this and he wouldn’t be able to feel his fingers. "That would be pedicare. Pedico eum." If his ears vibrated any harder, they would take flight.

"You don’t seem so easy saying that. Don’t you talk dirty to your pretty little mage? I bet he’d like it if you did. I bet I’d like it, too. You’ve just got such a nice voice. You could make anything sound sexy. It’s dangerous! You could use that as a weapon!" Isabela laughed and poured herself another drink, still a decent bit less drunk than Fenris.

"I have much more effective weapons at my disposal," Fenris muttered, pouring himself yet another drink. Fingers. Who needed them? If Isabela kept asking things like this, it was much more important that he get too drunk to feel his face.

"You could conquer a small nation with just your voice and that pillowy ass of yours," Isabela insisted.

"My ass is not pillowy!" Fenris sounded entirely aggrieved, and his ears stuck out at incongruent angles.

"That’s not what Justice says." Isabela laughed. "Tell me more good words. What’s the very dirtiest thing you want to do to that pretty little mage of yours, hmm? I’m sure there’s a word for it. Maybe even a few words…"

"I want… volo…" Lips. He could tell his were moving because sound was coming out, but he couldn’t feel them. And his tongue… "Volo lambere culum ecfututum suum et facere eum quassum." Quite a bit of that came out slurred but hopefully the general intent was clear.

"Ooh, what’s all that mean?" Isabela purred.

Fenris smirked into his drink and said, "I’m not telling you."


Three days later, Fenris ran out of things to drink, and ten hours later, he woke up somewhat closer to sober on the floor of Varric’s suite, with Isabela’s head on his ass. Which was still not pillowy. He dragged himself out from under the pirate queen, took a piss he wasn’t sure would ever stop, and decided it was probably time to go home. To his house. Which was probably full of workmen, but not yet containing Artie. He’d really fucked up, this time, hadn’t he? Not that he hadn’t fucked up, last time, but last time didn’t involve any swords. His chest tightened so hard his fingers tingled. Home. He had to get home. Cormac had said Artie would come home when he was ready.

The house was in better condition than the last time he’d seen it, four days earlier, and it smelled of soup. Right. They had a cook. And if there was soup… Fenris’s breath caught in his chest as he walked through the kitchen, helping himself to a roll from the pan sitting next to the stewpot. He headed up the back stairs and let himself into his dressing room. Even before he opened the door, he could hear Artemis making those delicious little sounds, the sound of the bed rocking against the wall. No, he wouldn’t have. There were no other sounds, and the only one of them that quiet was the abomination.

He opened the door quietly, expecting to have to stab Anders, and found Artemis alone on the bed. He was on his knees with a pillow under him, toes curling in the sheets and that glorious ass on display. One hand was curled behind him and wrapped around something green, something green that plunged in and out of that ass with obscene, wet sounds that went straight to Fenris’s knob.

Fenris felt his jaw drop. What was he…? This was…

"Oh Maker," Artemis panted, hips pressing back into the green thing in his hand, as Fenris stared.

Fenris had been planning what to say to Artemis on the way over here, had planned for if he was angry or upset or… well. He certainly didn’t plan for this. Bewildered, he stumbled back and headed back down the stairs.


Cormac came down the stairs, looking like he’d been up to a good bit more than just sleeping, hair rumpled and beard askew, dressed in a relatively simple robe, minus the usual sash. "Fenris? It’s the middle of the night. Shouldn’t you be home in bed with my brother?"

"It’s… about your brother. I— I don’t—" Fenris’s ears twitched.

"Is that lipstick on your ears?" Cormac asked. "Is that Isabela’s lipstick on your ears? Have you even been home yet? I didn’t think two sovereigns would buy you a three-day bender."

"It didn’t. The rest of it came out of her pocket, which I suspect means it came out of my pocket. I haven’t counted, yet." Fenris rubbed his face and then one of his ears, looking dismayed at the red smears on his fingers. "I woke up with my clothes on. She just… has a fetish. About my ears. I really don’t—" His ears twitched, again.

"Well, they are kind of cute and twitchy," Cormac pointed out, still completely confused what he was doing out of bed.

"They are not twitchy," Fenris snapped as his ears twitched, "and they do not vibrate!" He looked about until he found a mirror in the hallway. Seeing the state he was in, he cursed and rubbed at his ears with his palms, like an angry cat. "But… I’m…" He tried to talk while rubbing make-up off his ears. "Fasta Vass! I’m here because I just went home."

"That doesn’t make any sense. Artie’s back at your place. He went home, yesterday. Wanted to see you. Wanted to sit down and have a nice long talk and sort shit out." Cormac rubbed his eye and tugged at his beard. "Look, if you’re going to be here, be here. Go sit down in the library and I’ll go find us some bread and cheese, and then you can tell me what you’re doing here instead of making out with my brother. I’m just absolutely sure this isn’t a conversation that needs to happen in the hall. It’s bright and it echoes in here, and you’re hung over, and I just got out of bed."

"I am not hung over," Fenris protested. "I’m still drunk."

"Well that makes everything better." Cormac nodded, waving Fenris in the direction of the library. "Bread and cheese. Just a minute."

It was more like two, but as promised, Cormac returned with bread and cheese and dropped into one of the chairs by the fire, setting the platter on the table. "Now, what the fuck are you doing in my library, instead of in my brother?"

Fenris sat for all of two seconds before getting up to pace in front of the fireplace. He ignored the bread and cheese for a couple of laps before grabbing a hunk of each on the third. "There’s already something else in your brother," Fenris said through a mouthful of cheese. Maker, he was ravenous. And confused. But mostly, he was drunk. "He was on the bed, and I heard him and I thought—It was green, whatever it was."

Fenris perched on the arm of a chair and nibbled at his bread like a squirrel.

Cormac knew exactly what that was. "The dildo. Have you really never seen one, or was it just so far in you couldn’t tell?" Of course, Cormac wasn’t entirely sure how ‘dildo’ wouldn’t be the first guess, there. On the other hand, Fenris had been drunk for three days. "Yeah, he’s got that for when he hasn’t got someone to get him off. Doesn’t have to explain the shaking to anyone else. I guess when you didn’t come home…" He shrugged and grabbed a bit of cheese.

Fenris blinked at him, cheeks full of cheese. He forced himself to chew and swallow before trying to talk again. "For when he hasn’t got… Venhedis, so it’s a stand-in for…" And really, that probably should have been obvious, in hindsight, the way Artemis had been twisting that… thing. "And he’s… had this? For how long?"

"A while. I sprang for it so he’d stop doing stupid shit." Which was true. Cormac had paid for it. It had been Anders’s idea and Anders’s gift, though, and there was no way he was telling Fenris that. "But, if he’s at home riding that thing…" Cormac gave Fenris a pointed look.

And Fenris stared at him right back. "Yes? If you’re expecting me to have a great realisation, you should wait until I’m less drunk."

Cormac shook his head. "I’m guessing he misses you." That or he really wanted a piece of Anders, but was too devoted to actually take advantage of the opportunity he’d had for two days. "He loves you, Fenris. I don’t even… But, hey, it’s him, not me. If it makes you feel any better, Anders offered and Artie turned him down." He left out the part where he’d offered, too, and Artie had only … mostly turned him down. "We got him drunk, and he told Anders no. You get where I’m going with this?"

Fenris’s expression softened, and he looked down at the last bite of bread in his hand. "Oh." He didn’t realise how worried he’d been of that exact eventuality until just now, hearing that it didn’t happen. "I get where you’re going," he said. "And that’s… that I should get going."

He got up and shoved the last bit of food into his mouth.


This time, he took the front stairs, opening the bedroom door just as quietly as he had, the first time, and slipping in to stand at the foot of the bed, just watching Artemis writhe, for a little while. "Did you miss me, Artemis?" he purred, remembering what Isabela had said about his voice. Maybe he could get something good out of that. Or he’d learn the truth and tell Isabela how wrong she was. Either way, he’d know. "Did you miss me so much, you resorted to this? Couldn’t wait for me to come back to you?"

Artemis drew in a breath, Fenris’s voice in his fantasies suddenly sounding all too real. His hand stilled as he looked over his shoulder. "Fen?" he breathed. He realised he must have made quite the sight, and he let out a short, self-deprecating laugh, his cheeks colouring even more than they already had. "I did. I did miss you. So much." He wondered what he should do, if he should stay like this or move. Then again, the way Fenris was staring at him, Artie didn’t think he could move, whether he wanted to or not.

"Don’t stop." The words tumbled out of Fenris’s mouth as he crawled up onto the bed. Isabela had told him to talk, and he was still drunk enough to seriously consider it. Maybe even drunk enough to do it. He remembered a few of the things he’d taught her to say, on the first night, and the tips of his ears coloured. "I want to watch you." He took another deep breath, eyes wandering over Artemis’s bare body, lingering on the hand that clutched the… dildo. "Show me what you like."

Artemis’s hand obeyed the order, adjusting its grip and pushing the jade rod back into him, grinding in at an angle he liked. Maker. Fenris was… "Shit," he breathed, eyes shuttering. "You have the sexiest voice, you know that?" He kept his pace slow, deep, wanting to savour this, and pressed back against the rod and into the pillow. His free hand snared in the bedsheets as he panted.

"Do I? I might have heard that once." A small smile tugged at the corners of Fenris’s lips. "Is that what you like? The slow, deep grind?" His ears burned red, but he kept talking, forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths and not to close his eyes. Instead of that deep, sexy purr, his next words were breathy and amazed. "I … You quiver inside, when I do that to you. You quiver and squeeze me. I like it."

"Oh, Maker, Fen," Artemis said, words and breath shivery. "The things you do to me." He tilted his head so he could better watch Fenris watching him. The look of wonder and hunger in his eyes was addicting. He pressed deeper, toes curling, and let out a low groan just for Fenris, just to see how it affected him.

Fenris’s eyelids fluttered and he clutched at his own thighs. His heart raced, just watching this. "I want to do those things to you. I want to watch you teach me how to do them right — the way you want." There was a whole lot more in that sentence, and Fenris debated whether he was going to admit to it. "I like watching you enjoy me. I’m starting to like watching you enjoy yourself."

"I was thinking about you," Artemis sighed, lips quirking in a lazy smile. He didn’t say that he was also thinking about Cormac and Anders, because mostly? Yes. He was thinking about Fenris. He didn’t need to know the rest. "I love when you touch me, when you’re inside of me. No one can light me up the way you can." Words got a bit difficult after that, and he started to pick up the pace.

"I want to touch you. I want to touch every part of you. I want to put my hands in places no one else can reach." Fenris struggled not to interrupt. Struggled with himself to just let Artemis continue. Struggled with himself to stay still and not get up and take off his leggings because this was not a problem he needed to be having right now, but they were much, much too tight. "I want to watch you like this, but I want so much to be inside you. After… will you let me?"

Artemis bit his pillow around a groan at those words. "Fuck, Fenris," he panted, spitting the bit of cloth back out, "keep talking like that, and you can have whatever part of me you want, however many times you want it." Which led to some interesting thoughts, if the offer was taken literally, but Artemis was too far gone to care.

Artie moved faster, hips slamming back into the rod, and his hand losing its rhythm. "Fen."

Fenris finally couldn’t keep his hands to himself, settling one palm between Artemis’s hips. "I’m here." And there was that sexy purr again. "I’m right here." He stroked Artemis’s back, slowly, before fading his hand out and running his middle finger down Artemis’s spine. It was all terribly surreal for him. The man he loved was curled up next to him, bringing himself off, and here he was with the deadliest weapon in his arsenal being used as a sex toy. And if that didn’t make his knob throb…

Artie’s eyes popped wide, hips jerking. He choked out some nonsense syllables amidst pleas to the Maker and what sounded like Fenris’s name. He trembled under Fenris’s hand, feeling the burn of lyrium against buried nerve endings. The headboard started to rattle and so did the stone inside of him, and then he was shuddering his release into the pillow.

As the shaking slowed, Fenris took back his hand long enough to stretch out alongside Artemis, stroking the skin of his back, this time. "I love you. Everything about you. And right now, I am so very drunk, and you are so very beautiful." A tiny smile crept onto his face. "Just like that night in the Deep Roads."

A laugh startled out of Artemis at that. He slid the dildo out with a hiss and tossed it aside, hearing it thunk against one of the bedposts. "Exactly like that night," he said, stretching out onto his stomach and reaching out to stroke back Fenris’s hair. "You drunk and me beautiful, that is. Less threat of darkspawn, but well. We’ll save that for the anniversary." Which was, of course, implying that they had one. Considering their track record, he suspected they would but only after pissing each other off a few more times.

"Incidentally, I love you too, you know," he added, eyes soft. Even with what happened in the Fade, went unsaid but implied. Even knowing your ugliest fears. "Now, why are your pants still on?"

"Obviously, because you haven’t taken them off me." And there was that wicked smirk again. "Are you as drunk as I am, or can you actually untie those knots?" Yes, even too drunk to see, Fenris could untie his own pants, but there were very few other people who could, and he strongly suspected most of them were Qunari. Not that he’d ever had any Qunari try to untie his pants, but the knots were of a certain origin.

Artemis snorted and sat back on his knees, taking a moment to stretch his neck and his back before turning a critical eye towards the pants in question. "I am, for once, surprisingly sober," he said, "and capable of undoing pants. Even with your weird knots. Third from the top right?" Artie didn’t wait for confirmation before undoing the laces. He bent in for a kiss as his fingers moved, trying to convey in that one press of lips just how much he’s missed Fenris.

As Artemis tugged his leggings down, Fenris’s knob recoiled from where it had been trapped against his thigh, slapping loudly against his abs. And that was not something he’d been expecting. He choked out a laugh and tried to hide his face against Artemis’s neck. He was drunk. Drunk and ridiculous. When had he come to this? Maybe love did make fools of all men, but he was expecting a little less slapstick.

"I— I’m sorry. Not about that. About—" Fenris shrugged and took a deep breath. "Your brother threatened me. I’m inclined to take him seriously. I’m inclined to think he’s right." Even if he is a mage. "I don’t understand what happened. It seemed so simple, and then you were just… gone. I couldn’t see you. And then Cormac hit me, and I knew what I’d done, and I — I don’t… I love you so much. Please don’t let me kill you."

Artemis suspected this man would be the death of him one way or another anyway. He cradled Fenris’s head in his hands and kissed him until he quieted. "I don’t think my brother would let you kill me," he said archly. "Any brother. Or sister. As for me, I told you I was yours to do with as you wish, come what may." Usually Artie was the drunker party in this kind of conversation. In any kind of conversation. He wasn’t quite sure if he was saying the right things, and that worry made him want to reach for a drink himself.

"And that wasn’t you," Artemis murmured, thumbs smoothing over Fenris’s cheekbones. "I… I know that. The demons, they… well, we fear them for a reason." He sighed, shoulders sagging as he admitted, "I do wonder sometimes if we would both be happier without my magic."

"No." There was no hesitation. "You are a mage. I fell in love with a mage. I am still learning what that means, and it scares me, but this is what you are, and … I …" He sighed and pulled Artemis onto him. "The floor shaking is a nice touch. I can’t explain it. It just feels good. Especially when you’re not dropping wine on me with it."

Artemis chuckled, melting against his elf. "Right. I should leave all the wine-redecorating to you." He leaned in for another kiss, pausing to suck Fenris’s lip between his teeth. "Now," he purred, his smile turning impish, "I made you an offer earlier. Care to collect?" He wriggled unsubtly against Fenris’s knob.

Fenris got caught in his shirt four times before he managed to pull it off. "Right here. In our bed. Yours and mine. No one but you and me. No interruptions. Nowhere else to be. And this time, I’m the drunk one." He laughed and tried to kick off his pants. "It’s a nice change of pace."


Morning found Varric standing at the door, with a pair of clawed gautlets in his hand, and to his surprise the elf who answered the door was not the one to whom the gauntlets belonged. "Ah, hi! Who are you?"

"Oh! Yes, I’m Orana. I’m Messere Fenris’s cook, but… he’s not accepting company, right now." She smiled uncertainly.

"He’s got the cook answering the door. I gotta have a talk with that boy." Varric handed her the gauntlets. "Well, he left these on my floor, the other night. I’m sure he’ll be missing them as soon as he’s done with his current round of entertaining."

Orana laughed and accepted the gauntlets. "You know him so well, messere."

"I’d better, by now." Varric stepped back off the doorstep, and headed out into Hightown. "Give him my best!"