Title: Rhapsody in Ass Major – Chapter 67
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Artemis Hawke ♂, Fenris ♂, Cormac Hawke ♂, Anders ♂
Rating: E (L4 N4 S4 V0 D1)
Warnings: Hot Hawke-on-Hawke action, improper applications of tea, consensual violence, bloodplay, sex injuries
Notes: Fenris and Anders were not expecting the evening’s entertainment to go quite like this. Artemis must remember to thank Orana for a table of the perfect height.
There was a clattering and Anders laughing, but Cormac appeared, uninjured in the doorway, as if he hadn’t just been smacked with a door. Which he hadn’t. That’s what shields were for.
"So, am I walking into my death?" Cormac asked. "And if I am, is it at least going to be a sexy death of the sort Isabela would pay to have carved out for my memorial?"
"Please don’t kill Cormac. I’ve been working all day. I really don’t have it in me to keep him alive, if you try too hard," Anders groaned, shoving Cormac back into the room.
"I make no promises on the killing," Fenris drawled, hand sliding up and down Artie’s arm, almost possessively before he stopped himself.
"Okay, but if you do kill him, please ask me first," Artemis said. "If he deserves it, I’ll let you." Granted, Cormac deserved it most of the time. He wondered sometimes how long the man would have survived if he didn’t have those shields. "But it looks like it might at least be the sexy sort of death, Cormac. Or should I have told you that via flowers?"
"It’s a wonder Kirkwall still has a florist, after today. I wonder how the poor woman hasn’t burst into flames. I have to wonder what the rumours will look like, tomorrow, because I can almost guarantee they will look nothing like the truth." Cormac swaggered across the room. "So… Is that a yes? You going to hurry up and kill me with your dick?"
Anders looked at Fenris and shrugged. Hawkes, right? Nothing for it.
Artemis coughed into his fist. He glanced at Fenris before twisting to look up at his brother. "If you’re not dead by the end of this," he said, "it won’t be from lack of trying. At least from my end." There was a joke or twelve in there about mage staffs or stabbing, but Artie’s wits were too scattered to make them.
Maker, this was… They were really going to…
"But — yes. It’s a yes, it seems."
"Now?" Cormac asked. "Here?"
He leaned down and rested his chin on Artemis’s shoulder, whispering just behind his ear. "Fuck me, Artie. Fuck me raw, right here on this table, and I will lick it clean for you."
The whisper was, perhaps, not as quiet as it could have been, or years in the tower had really sharpened Anders’s hearing. He cast a somewhat uncomfortable look at Fenris. "I left the tea over there. I’m going to go get the tea. If we’re watching this, should I ask Orana for some biscuits?"
It wasn’t that he was uncomfortable watching. Maker, no. He just wasn’t quite sure how he was supposed to feel about the fact that he and Fenris were both in the room for it. And potentially not involved. Or if they were involved, this was going to get really weird, really quickly. And if only one of them was involved, someone was probably going to die.
Fenris looked between the three mages, eyes large and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Hold on. They were..? Now? No one had said anything about the abomination being here, and there were still cards on the table, and…
And Artie looked incredibly turned on by that filth his brother had just said. Venhedis. Fenris should have worn those loose pants again.
Artemis reached up to grab Cormac by the hair, dark fingers disappearing in darker strands. But he looked right at Fenris, brow arched in a question. ‘Is this okay?’ that look said. Fenris realised Artie was waiting for Fenris’s consent.
Fenris finally pulled his tongue away from the roof of his mouth. "I think, perhaps, you should tell Orana to go out for a bit, while you’re at it."
"Noon?" Anders asked, heading for the door again, a little light-headed. "I think I’ll tell her noon. That’s half a day away. That’s… time enough for pants. Biscuits, tea, fifty silver for a night at the Hanged Man. I’d spot her more, but my pockets are empty. You know me."
This had been a very different thing, when it was happening in Cormac’s bed. For starters, he’d been naked for that, which he really didn’t expect to happen, this time. And there had been less angry elf, involved, although the angry elf looked a lot less angry and a lot more wobbly and disconcerted. Rather like he, himself, was feeling, actually. Seemed to be going around.
Cormac tipped his head pulling his hair tighter against Artemis’s grip, as he rubbed his cheek against Artie’s ear. "Hurt me," he whispered. "Make me feel you. Show me how you would have taken me, that day, all those years ago."
Artemis turned his head to nip at Cormac’s jaw, just to the side of that ridiculous beard. He twisted his fingers a little tighter in his brother’s hair and wondered if he should tell him… "You’re making assumptions, brother-dear," he growled against Cormac’s skin. "You’re assuming I wanted to be the one taking you. Not that I would have minded, but."
Artie was hyper-aware of all the places Cormac touched or almost touched, aware of Cormac’s breath against his cheek. Into Cormac’s ear, soft enough for only his brother to hear, Artemis said, "Maybe I wanted my big, strong older brother taking me. Using me."
Fenris watched the exchange and swallowed heavily, hands clutching at his thighs.
Cormac nearly swooned as all the blood rushed out of his head. But… didn’t end up where he expected it to. No, that was still a little too far, for him, for pretty much exactly the reasons Artie seemed to want it. And wasn’t that a pisser. He took a few deep breaths and lifted his hand, in case Fenris could read lips.
"You’ve already had me inside you. I think it’s my turn." It wasn’t a good argument, really, but it was the only one he could muster without getting anywhere near the truth of the matter. And he wasn’t going to tell that to Artemis. Not when he was still working on changing his own mind on the subject. And really, if Artie kept asking like that, it might not take that many tries. "Just this once, Artie, please?"
Anders came back in carrying tea and biscuits, which he set on the end of the table and pulled up the chair on the other side of Fenris. "Still in negotiations, are they?" he asked, pouring a cup for himself and then another that he nudged toward Fenris. Might as well keep things polite.
Fenris grunted something, still too dazed to be annoyed by the abomination and his closeness. He acknowledged the tea with a blink but didn’t touch it.
Artemis leaned to the side to consider his brother. ‘Just this once’, he’d asked. Implying more than once. Implying multiple instances of what was probably a terrible idea, but one that Artemis rather liked. There was a part of him that wanted to whine at Cormac the way he used to when they were younger, the way he used to when he wanted things to go his way. But this was Cormac wanting him and saying ‘please’.
"Fine, since you ask so nicely," Artie said, hand slipping out of Cormac’s hair to slide under his chin. "But next time? We do it my way."
"Fuck yes," Cormac panted, wits gone straight out the window. "Anything, Artie. You know that. Anything for you."
Anders looked on in amusement, long having wondered what Cormac’s dazed and pleading face looked like from a different angle. He sipped his tea and helped himself to a biscuit, wondering how awkward this was going to get, between himself and Fenris, once things got going. He knew he could bring himself off without Fenris even becoming aware of it — he’d done it enough times during boring lectures — but he wondered at Fenris’s talents in that regard.
"Thank you," Cormac said, pressing his lips to his brother’s forehead. "I know I’m being selfish, but… ever since you… ever since we… Ever since that night with the corset, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what you would have felt like inside me. Anything you want from me, after this, Artie."
Artemis stood up on wobbly feet, heart pounding in his ears as the reality of what they were about to do started to hit him. He could feel Fenris’s eyes on him, Anders’s eyes, Cormac’s eyes. This was happening. He wanted it to happen.
"Anything?" Artemis said, lips quirking. "Careful, Cormac. We have witnesses who heard that. I’m sure Fran could find another Orlesian maid’s outfit for you." He fumbled to push the chair out of the way, but it caught on the rug. Cursing, he knocked it over and force pushed it to the other end of the room. "We should… the cards." The last hand was still laid out on the table. They were Varric’s, and he doubted Varric would be thrilled to get them back bent and covered in suspicious stains.
Fenris considered helping, but standing right now, in these pants? Not something he wanted to do.
"If you do this for me… If you put your knob in my ass and make me scream for you, I will wear it, without complaint. I doubt you actually would want that, though. I don’t really have the legs for it." Had Isabela been present, Cormac could have been used as an example of ‘smouldering’, in that moment.
Anders was on his feet without thinking about it. "I’m… table. No. Cards. I’ll get the table cleared off, while the two of you get each other cleared off, and we can try this again with nothing in the way." He gathered cards in one hand, sweeping empty glasses and crumbs to the far end of the table, just to get everything into one place. Definitely had to move the glasses. Not only would they get knocked over in the usual way, this was Artie. Glasses had to go. He piled them onto the tray that had held sandwiches and grabbed the few bottles he could find under the table, before taking the tray and the cards out of the room. He’d just leave those in the kitchen for Orana.
Artemis looked down at himself. Cleared off. Right. By the time Anders had cleared off the table, Artie had flung his tunic in the direction of his abused chair. His pants took a bit more time to deal with. Laces. Laces were demons’ work. Eventually his drunk brain caught up with what his fingers were doing, and he got the laces open, slid his pants down over his hips, and promptly forgot that he could only step out of them one foot at a time.
Fenris caught Artemis as he started to teeter backward, half standing out of his chair. "All right?" he asked in Artie’s ear, trying not to react to all that bare skin so close to him.
"Pants," Artemis answered helpfully. He finally kicked them off and righted himself. "Thank you. We’ll try this with less rum next time." A few of those words got lost in the middle, but he was sure he’d made his point.
Cormac, meanwhile, had untied his sash and shrugged off the four layers of Chantry robe he had been wearing, taking the time to roughly fold the lot of cloth and hand it to Anders. He stepped behind Artemis, hands on those sharp hips, and whispered against the ear Fenris wasn’t using. "I want you stone sober, when I fuck you like you’ve been aching for it, all these years."
Anders cursed himself for not having stayed quite close enough to make out whatever that had been. Given the look on Cormac’s face, he vaguely wondered how Artemis hadn’t spontaneously combusted, yet. But, maybe that was just him.
"Is that a promise?" Artemis asked, unable to hide a shiver at Cormac’s words, at Cormac’s heat at his back. He looked back at Fenris, who still stood awkwardly half in his chair, and watched him visibly swallow. Artie threw him a wink and motioned for him to sit before turning in Cormac’s grip. He looped his arms around Cormac’s neck and pressed their bodies flush together, shivering again at the slide of hot skin against his.
Anders settled back in his chair, hardly daring to blink. He reached for a biscuit and shoved it whole in his mouth, all without taking his eyes off the Hawkes.
"It’s a promise. It’s a guarantee. I will do it, and I want you sober enough to remember all of it — every inch of me sliding into you for the first time." Cormac wrapped his arms around Artemis, pressing them tight together. He just hoped he’d actually be able to do it, when the time came. The idea scared the fuck out of him, quite literally, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get it up. Still, he’d try. He’d ask Anders. There had to be a spell for that, maybe a potion.
"How do you want to do this? Are we tall enough that if I sprawl across the table and put my knees over your shoulders, you can reach?" He patted the edge of the table and tried to judge. "I don’t want to pick the wrong angle and have you wind up with a foot cramp or something."
"That’s why we have a healer," Artemis said distractedly. Hard to judge depth with everything so fuzzy at the edges. "If it doesn’t work, I’m having a new table made, just for that." Fenris was a bit shorter than he was, after all. It could be a gift for them both. Much more important than using the table for its intended use.
Artemis shrugged and grabbed Cormac under the thighs, hoisting him up onto the table. If this worked, Orana was getting a raise.
Cormac squeaked, as his feet left the ground. Blinking, he settled himself onto the very edge of the table, leaning forward to give Artemis a long, lingering kiss, before he stretched out across the reflectively-clean surface of the table … which probably had a few wine stains on it, at this point, but they didn’t really make it less blinding to engage directly. He hooked his heels on the edge of the table, to either side of his ass and spread his legs. This was actually happening. He was spread out on display, so his little brother — his beautiful little brother — could fuck him, while their lovers watched. Was lover really the word? He had no idea. Years, now, and he still didn’t know how to refer to Anders, other than by name.
"Take me, Artie." Other things crossed his mind to say, but not in front of Fenris. They were no less true, but they weren’t his to say.
Artemis took a moment to appreciate the sight, to remind himself that this was real. No demons here, just three men he trusted, two he loved, one he was in love with. And here was one of them, the brother he had loved and admired all his life, stretched out like an offering. Artie stepped forward, running his hands up Cormac’s legs to rest at his knees. He bent to nip at the inside of one thigh, teasing at first, before sinking his teeth into the skin just under the joint where thigh met groin.
"Want me to take you like this?" Artemis growled, barely recognising his own voice. "Dry and rough? Until you bleed?" He wasn’t one to hurt his lovers, but he knew what Cormac liked, what he craved. He was still going to ask first.
Cormac arched, screaming shrilly, as teeth sank into him. "Yes! Yes! Oh, fuck, Artemis!"
That hit him hard. Here he was, screaming his brother’s name. That was his brother between his legs. And the only other people in the room were just there to watch. There was no ‘and Anders’ to hang this on, this time. This was just the two of them.
Gritting his teeth as some last ditch attempt to control his ragged breathing, Cormac looked down the table at Anders. "Make sure he doesn’t hurt himself," he panted, before looking back down, between his legs. "And you… Oh, fuck, Artie. Do it. Just shove it all the way in. Pinch me, bite me, slap me, fuck me until I bleed for you. I need it. I need you in me. I need to see my blood on you. I need to feel you break me, tear me apart."
That was all the consent Artie needed. He left another bite under the last one, teeth worrying the skin, and wondered if Cormac would leave those bruises. "Keep saying my name like that," he growled as he straightened, hooking his hands under Cormac’s heels and throwing them over his shoulders. Grabbing hold of Cormac by the thighs, Artemis pulled them flush together, knob spearing into his brother in one brutal thrust.
And Artemis swore, because, okay, that wasn’t something he thought through. He sank his teeth into a leg by his face, muffling a squeak.
"Artemis! Yes! Please, yes! Fuck me Artie, just fucking fuck me!" Cormac howled, snapping his fingers where his arm lay stretched along the table in Anders’s direction and pointing as subtly as he could manage at Artemis.
Anders was already casting, having seen that stupid move start. He’d done that once or twice. It never ended well for anyone except Cormac. He tapped on the table until Artie looked at him, and made a couple of quick gestures. It was only fair. When the three of them were together, Cormac was usually inside him, so some of the finer details probably should be passed along.
"Please, Artie! It’s so good… Make me bleed for you!" Cormac pleaded.
Healing magic washed over Artemis, and he could breathe again. Maker, what was it with him skinning his dick? "Always so demanding, Cormac," he said, voice still a bit tight. "Already pleading." He gave an experimental push of his hips, a bit dizzy from the heat and tightness surrounding him. He was rarely on this side of things, but everything about this situation was ‘rare’, to put it lightly.
Artie gave another shove, this one harder, and watched Cormac’s face. He slid a hand along Cormac’s thigh to dig his fingers into the bruises his teeth had left.
Fenris didn’t realise his mouth was open until his tongue started to dry out. This was… "I’ve never seen him like this," he said, not realising he was saying this aloud. It was best he hadn’t touched his tea. He’d have dropped it in his lap by now.
Anders washed down the mouthful of biscuit he had, and laughed quietly. "Did you miss the thing with Cullen, then? No. You were there for that. For certain values of ‘there’. You should have been closer. That was … phew." He fanned himself with his free hand and reached for another biscuit, flexing his thighs, under the table. There would come a point when he had to put the tea down for a bit, but he wasn’t there yet.
"You, Artie. Pleading for you." Cormac panted between thrusts. "Fuck, you feel so good in me. Oh, Artemis! Better than I dreamed. Better than I imagined, and fuck, I imagined it. Imagined you taking me like this… Imagined you fucking me open and making me beg for you!"
Artemis groaned, nails digging into the meat of Cormac’s thighs as he set up a rhythm, hard enough to jolt his brother against the table. "Maker, Cormac, you’re killing me," he breathed. "Keep talking."
And that, Fenris realised, was a theme. Artie liked talking during sex. Or rather, liked being talked to. Yes. Maybe he could approach this as an… educational experience.
"Isabela’s going to pitch a fit when she realises this is what she missed by leaving early," Anders said out of the side of his mouth.
Fenris sharpened a glare in Anders’s direction without actually looking at him. He didn’t think he could make eye-contact with the abomination right then. "Isabela is not going to find out about this," he said, voice steely.
"Didn’t say I was going to tell her. Maker knows, it’s been years since she and I…" Anders gestured vaguely. "Cormac’s still doing her, though. He’s the one to worry about. And since it’s his ass, I’m thinking that’s probably his decision, and neither of ours."
"Harder," Cormac begged. "Fuck me harder, Artemis!" He writhed against the table, each thrust hitting at a slightly different angle as his hips rolled. "Don’t be so easy on me! I want you to break me. I want you to leave me fucked out and bleeding."
"Pinch him," Anders suggested. "Pinch his knob."
Artemis leaned forward, putting some of his weight on the backs of Cormac’s thighs and thrust harder, as hard and deep as he dared to go, and then some when Cormac kept writhing under him. His lips formed the syllables of Cormac’s name, but there wasn’t air enough in his lungs to give them sound.
"Pinch you?" he purred, finally forcing himself to remember how to breathe through all this heat. "Would you like that?"
Artemis didn’t wait for a response. Hips still pistoning, he reach down between them and pinched Cormac’s knob. Hard.
The scream was blood-curdling, and Cormac’s entire body tensed, arching up off the table, legs squeezing Artemis’s shoulders, ass wringing Artemis’s knob. "Fuck!" he shouted. "Yes! Fuck! Artemis! Please!"
He licked his lips as coherence slowly returned to him and his body trembled as it settled back against the table. "Harder," he breathed, looking Artemis right in the eye. He moved his own hand between them, positioning Artie’s fingers just how he knew he wanted them. "Right here. Dig your thumbnail in. Make me bleed for you." His hand lingered on Artemis’s, and he hoped his eyes could say all the things he didn’t dare let out of his mouth. "Just for you."
Artemis hesitated a moment, but Cormac looked so sure and there was a healer nearby and — and there wasn’t much room left for thinking in his brain. He wasn’t going to last much longer, not like this, not with Cormac looking at him like that, but he was determined to hold out, to wait for his brother to finish first. And if this was what Cormac wanted…
Artie dug his thumbnail in, pressed harder, harder, past the point he wanted to and into what Cormac was asking for. "Cormac," he panted. "Cormac."
Anders set down his tea, watching, hazy eyed, as a small sigh escaped him. An unconscionably smug smile spread across his face, and his eyes never wavered. This was, in some ways, even better than being between them. He could see them both at once.
Cormac screamed and arched, again, this time still writhing as he spurted through his brother’s fingers. This time, the words that followed were slower, if no less loud, a gooey tone, as if Cormac’s tongue had gone thick in his mouth. "Oh, Artemis. This. This is what you do to me, and I love it. Every second. Every inch." He flexed and twisted his hips back tugging at Artie’s knob as he shifted the angle.
Sticky fingers moved to grip Cormac’s hip as Artemis panted, a fine tremble taking root in his limbs. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, over the sounds of Artemis’s shivery breaths and Cormac’s voice. "Cormac," he groaned, pleaded, "Cormac, I…"
Fenris knew that look, knew that voice. He reached for his tea cup to keep it from spilling seconds before the table and chairs started to shake. And wasn’t that strange, feeling that from this angle? There was a sound of cursing next to him in the vicinity of the abomination, but Fenris’s eyes were glued to the sight in front of him, to the lovely way Artemis’s muscles tensed and his eyes rolled back. He hadn’t seen that look from this angle, and it reaffirmed Fenris’s assessment — that his mage was beautiful.
Artemis’s knuckles were white on Cormac’s hips as he pressed them as close together as physically possible, spilling deep inside him. He sagged dizzily once the moment passed and wondered if that had actually happened. "Cormac," he panted, "are you…?" All right? Happy? Not freaking out?
"I’m right here," Cormac slurred, dizzily, a completely stupid smile on his face. "I’m also bleeding on your hand. C’mere, I’ll lick it off."
The feeling slowly filtered back into various parts of Cormac’s body. "Bled on. Past tense. Right. Move your arm and I’ll get my leg down, so I can hold you up. lean on me. ‘S fine. I’m fine. I’m fucking great. I’ve got your knob in my ass, and I’m fucking amazing. You holding up?"
Anders knew that sound in Cormac’s voice. He was going to have to heal that, before they tried to walk home. How had he managed to put his tea down right then? And what kind of idiot was he not to have picked it right back up? At least the cup wasn’t broken. He stopped blotting at himself long enough to look up at the afterglow. They really were beautiful, especially together. Only together, in Cormac’s case. Cormac was an outrageously good looking guy, but a whole other aesthetic, somehow.
"You better not have gotten tea on the rug," Fenris said, sipping at his own tea now with a calm at odds with his twitching ears and the state of his trousers.
Anders hoped not, for Artie’s sake, or he’d never be invited to something like this again. He looked down and around him. "No, I think I got it mostly on my lap. My crotch saved your rug."
The tea wasn’t quite scalding, but it was hot. Fenris could tell, and it made him smile. "Good," he said sweetly, reaching for a biscuit.
Artemis had shrugged Cormac’s legs off his shoulders and slid out carefully, leaning against his brother and the table as he caught his breath.
Cormac eased himself up onto his elbows, pressing a kiss to Artemis’s shoulder. "You still all right, Artie?" The words were clearer as Cormac’s body settled, and more of his nerves started playing nice. "You," he said. "You understand me? Always. Whatever you want, next time. If you… want a next time. I mean… I’m not… It’s up to you. But, I have absolutely no complaints. I’ll be cursing you in three hours, but …" He laughed. "That’s the best way."
Anders stretched his legs, under the table. "So," he said to Fenris, "opinions?"
"My opinion?" Fenris said. "I think the tea should be hotter the next time you pour it into your lap." A non-answer, but Fenris was still trying to find a real answer to that question. Right now, his opinions centred around wanting to ravish his mage the first chance he got.
"Into that, are you?" Anders quipped. "Mm, kinky." Though really, that was nothing compared to what they’d just done, sitting here with tea and biscuits watching a pair of gorgeous brothers fuck on the table.
Fenris gave Anders a flat look and dumped the rest of his tea in the abomination’s lap, making Anders jump.
Artemis laughed even as he cringed. "I’m fine," he told Cormac. "But I’m more worried about the healer." He kissed the corner of Cormac’s jaw and added in a low purr, "You do have a promise to keep, don’t forget."
"Have I ever forgotten?" Cormac breathed. "If you want it, it’s yours."
"Don’t worry about me. Cormac, I’m using your robes so I don’t get tea on the rug. No, I didn’t get it anywhere interesting. You can still walk across town looking like a templar lackey." Anders was mostly just muttering loudly, blotting at the tea Fenris had just added to his crotch. "You know, Fenris, if you want me to take my pants off, there are easier and more effective ways of making that happen. I mean, if you really want me to strip down and sit on your throbbing knob, that could be arranged, but it’s probably best that we waited until after, because I’d totally block your view."
Cormac blinked, eyelashes fluttering against Artemis’s neck. "Okay, now I’m worried about him."
Fenris’s grip tightened around his now empty tea cup. "There are also easier and more effective ways of asking me to kill you," he growled, eyes narrowing on the abomination.
"So you’re not denying that you want me on your knob?" Anders countered.
Artemis exchanged a wide-eyed look with Cormac and hurried to intercept Fenris. "All right, now, children, play nice," he said, a hand on Fenris’s shoulder keeping the elf in his seat. "No stabbing, please."
"Please don’t stab my… Warden." Cormac groaned and dragged himself into a sitting position. "Unless you want to stab him with your dick, and then go right ahead. There’s still biscuits left. I’m in."
"See? Cormac’s for it!" Anders laughed and then tossed the damp robes to Cormac. "Seriously, though, stop talking. I don’t want to clean that mess up. More importantly, Artie doesn’t want to clean that mess up."
Cormac slid off the table to pull them on, sucking in a long breath as his feet connected with the ground. "I remember exactly how many muscles are near my hips every time I do that, don’t I?"
"Every time," Anders agreed, flicking a hand in Cormac’s direction without asking. He’d been doing this long enough to know how much was too much.
Artemis gave Cormac a once-over to make sure he was all right. He knew Anders understood Cormac’s limits better than he did and would have stopped them if there had been a problem. As it was, he rather liked the thought of Cormac feeling him for a while.
"Yes, everyone, please stop tormenting my elf," he said, trailing the hand on Fenris’s shoulder up to card through his hair. Not that the thought of Fenris and Anders wasn’t tempting — because, Maker, was it ever — but Artie doubted Fenris would go for that. Unless Fenris were into things even he didn’t know about.
Artemis cleared his throat. "So how was the, uh… tea?" he asked their audience.
"Hot," Anders replied, raising an eyebrow at Fenris. "What tea made it into my mouth instead of getting poured on my crotch was good, though. I think the performance was even better than the tea. You are just as beautiful as I remember, Artemis."
"Take the fucking compliment. He never calls me beautiful," Cormac complained, trying to get his sash wrapped properly.
"That’s because you’re not, Cormac. You’re a thick, hairy slab of man-meat." Anders laughed. "I don’t know how the two of you are related, but I guess it shows in the cheeks and the cheeks."
"You see what I put up with?" Cormac sighed melodramatically, finally tying his sash correctly. "He’s right though, Artie. You’re beautiful. When the Maker made the Hawkes, he made me in Dad’s image, and then he made you perfect."
"I will pour tea on all of you," Artemis muttered, though he was smirking as he finally pulled on his trousers. The accursed trousers with the accursed laces. "Even though that sounds incredibly messy. I will."
Fenris was still holding his teacup, just for something to clutch, as he watched all that lovely skin disappear. "Loath as I am to agree with the abomination," he said, "he is right. You are beautiful, and Cormac is not." He wasn’t thrilled with the reminder that Anders had slept with Artemis, but his mage had requested no stabbing.
Artie snorted, left his pants loose around his hips and threw on his tunic. Once he found it. He also righted the chair he’d knocked into the wall.
"And on that note, I will relieve you of my charming sylvan companion, before he starts dripping sap on the rug." Anders stood up and stepped around Fenris’s chair, careful to keep a wide circle around Artemis. "Come on, Cormac, let’s leave your brother and his angry elf in peace. I have suspicions Fenris and I are in much the same condition, after that, and I don’t think either of us are going to solve that problem with the other in the room." Not that he wouldn’t, but the elf had issues.
"I am not sappy!" Cormac insisted, swatting Anders across the ass. "I just… have a little difficulty with words, sometimes, after I’ve had my brains fucked out. I’m a little giddy, maybe." He tugged Anders out of the way and went to say goodnight to his brother.
"Send a messenger, if you need anything before the next game," Cormac said, wrapping his arms around Artemis, and pressing a kiss just below his ear. "Love you, Artie." He let go and stepped back. "We’ll be back to spill more wine on your table in a week! I’m sure I’ll see you both before then. I think I’ve got a message from the Viscount sitting on my desk. Sleep well! Don’t do too much I wouldn’t do!"
Anders laughed and manhandled Cormac in the direction of the door.
Artie was going to offer to let them stay the night — they had guest rooms, after all — but the look in Fenris’s eyes made him keep the words behind his teeth. A full night of Cormac’s screams would likely end in murder, anyway.
Once they were alone, Artie leaned back against the table and made a point to eye Fenris’s trousers. "I wonder if there’s any tea left," he said, his smile teasing.
"Have your tea later," Fenris growled, rising to his feet. He looked like he wanted to throw Artie over his shoulder and carry him off… or maybe just throw him over the table. The spot was still warm where Cormac had laid down, and Artemis was tempted to say so. Instead Fenris grabbed Artie’s hand and pulled him towards the door. "Bed. Now."
Artie laughed as he was elfhandled up the stairs.