Title: Rhapsody In Ass Major – Chapter 84
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Cormac Hawke ♂, Artemis Hawke ♂, Anders ♂, Fenris ♂
Rating: E (L3 N4 S4 V0 D0)
Warnings: Hot Hawke-on-Hawke action, consensual violence, breathplay
Notes: Cormac made a promise to Artemis. And he never goes back on his promises. (It’s about eight thousand words of hot Hawke-on-Hawke action. You’re welcome.)
Cormac still felt weird, without the fluff. Isabela had started calling him the ‘hairless bear’, the very next day, which he supposed was going to stick until he managed to grow his beard back out. It still wasn’t coming in quite evenly, but every time he shaved, it looked like it was filling in a little more. A few weeks, and he’d be fine. His chest was down to a stripe down the middle, and he just hadn’t bothered to shave his left leg, which still had current patterns in the hair. It was less obvious, there. He was considering getting another tattoo, while the shaving was already out of the way, but there were other things to see to, first. Namely, his brother, who was still looking at him with those big, round eyes, waiting for him to say something.
"The first thing you should know is that Anders was kind enough to give me a potion, for this afternoon’s entertainments. Consider it a loan of a small amount of that Warden stamina." That was one of the other effects, but it wasn’t the one Cormac actually needed. That one, he wouldn’t mention. "So, because I know what you like," he said, purring Artemis’s own line back at him, "we’ll do this my way, first. And that will give you time to think of what you want to do with the rest of the three or four directly consecutive rounds I should be able to wring out of this. Are you interested in that plan?"
Three or four. Consecutive. Artemis swallowed and nodded. "That… that sounds like a great plan," he said. "One of your better plans, actually. Which isn’t saying much considering your usual kinds of plans, but…" Artie coughed into his fist. Rambling. Right. "So," he purred back, tugging teasingly at Cormac’s beardless chin, "how would you like to do this ‘your way’ then?"
"Well, I was thinking, since I just shaved…" Cormac looked out the window, instead of at his brother, for a moment. "What if we play a game? You said you’ve been thinking about this for years, since the summer we moved to Lothering, if my sense of time is right… Since you caught me out in the barn. Did you spend a little alone time, with yourself after that? Take your earthquakes out to the woods?" Cormac took a deep breath and looked back. "What if we go out into your beautifully arranged yard and pretend…? Pretend I caught you, after you caught me? And no, to be honest, I probably wouldn’t have been into it then, but I’m into it now, and that’s what counts."
Anders watched, from the other side of the room, far enough off not to influence the conversation, but close enough to listen. This was going to be a good show. Maybe Fenris would loosen up a little, too.
Artie felt his cheeks burn up to the tips of his ears. His brother knew him too well, really. That was exactly what he’d done. Not right away, not even that day, but the image of Cormac, the sound of his screams, had lingered in his mind. They had grown more distracting the more he tried to ignore them.
"Definitely one of your better plans," Artie admitted with a coy smile.
Nearby, Fenris was practising his reading. He’d been staring at the same page for the past few minutes as he listened to this conversation, left ear twitching. There was no way he was going to concentrate after that.
"Then I’m going to go out to the garden and put a couple more plaits in my hair, while you get comfortable. Whistle for me, when you want me to come looking for you." Cormac cupped his brother’s cheek for a moment, and then meandered out of the room, trying to convince himself he could still feel the ground under his feet. This was completely insane, and it was a good thing he had a potion. There was no way he was going to be able to do this, without it. He knew he’d calm down, eventually, but this was still… He’d once punched someone in the teeth, in the middle of a crowded market, for having even suggested it. And here he was, about to do this. About to do his brother.
His fingers worked at his hair, with a mind of their own, remembering how he used to wear it, when he was younger. The reflexes never really went away, he reflected, licking his fingertips between plaits, as he found a corner to sit in, until he heard the whistle.
"So, ah, where do you want us, Artie?" Anders asked, pointing at himself and Fenris.
Artemis noticed Fenris eyeing him over the binding of a children’s book. Artie cleared his throat and twisted his fingers into his hair, thumb of his free hand pointing over his shoulder. "There’s a hot spring out back if you want to — yes. The pond. Magic." He glanced out the window where he could see Cormac braiding his hair. "I’m just going to… yard. Yes. Lovely day."
Artie all but darted out of the house, palms sweaty and heart pounding in his ears. They were doing this. Actually doing this. Stone cold sober, even, and wasn’t that new? Artemis cast about his garden, wandering around until he found the spot he was looking for, in the shade of an oak tree, half hidden by some conveniently placed flower bushes. Yes. Just secluded enough to add to the effect.
Artemis settled on the ground with his back to the tree, taking a moment to collect himself, to reassure himself that this was happening before fumbling with the laces to his trousers. He thought of Cormac, of what they were about to do, of how wrong it was and how badly he wanted it, and he was flushed and panting in a matter of moments.
Another moment to collect himself, and he pursed his lips in a whistle.
Cormac took his time, responding, finishing the plait he was halfway through and pulling off his robes over his head, before he straightened the feathered and flowered plaits. This would be the real surprise. He’d found almost what he used to wear, when they still worked in the orchards — the loosely-laced shirt and the too-tight tan leather trousers. Checking himself one last time, he set off in the direction of the whistle. The shirt would show the bites Anders had left where his neck met his shoulder, just darker than his skin. He’d gotten Anders to rub him off in the trousers, that morning, because he had a pretty good memory of how often he’d walked around in that shape, at that age. Anders had been all too pleased to help bolster the illusion.
Catching sight of Artemis, Cormac paused, just watching for a moment, as he drank the potion and tucked the bottle behind some flowers. He could get it later. He crept up quietly, watching the shadows and his brother’s breathing, until he was nearly standing on Artemis. "Hey, shakes and quakes. Thinking about your elven lover?" he teased.
Even though he was expecting it, Artie still jumped at his brother’s voice. He looked over to find himself face to crotch with some tight leather pants that looked ridiculously familiar. He looked up the line of Cormac’s body, and, Maker, the illusion was almost perfect. Cormac was squarer in the shoulders now, cheekbones and jaw more refined, but for a moment, it was like he was a jittery teenager again.
Not that he still wasn’t acting like a jittery teenager. A jittery adult. That’s what he was. "Cormac!" he said, feigning surprise, eyes wide. "What are you doing here?" At least his acting was better than his singing. Or his cooking.
"Maybe I’m here to do the same thing you’re here to do." Cormac smirked down at his brother. "Just didn’t think I’d find you out here." He cupped a hand around the back of Artemis’s head, thumb rubbing behind his ear. "Or maybe I should have expected it. I thought I saw something, the other day… Thought it was a spooked deer, but maybe it was you, hmm? You got it for the neighbour boy, too?"
Anders had followed Fenris out to the spring — pretty nice, actually, especially considering it was probably artificial. Good dwarven-made feature, at a glance. He turned his back on the elf and stripped down to his tunic, before sliding into the water, which was just deliciously warm against his everything. Purring contentedly, he stretched, before finally opening his eyes and realising why Artie had pointed them toward this spot in particular. That was a perfect view of the two of them. Nothing in the way, and just enough branches and leaves to render him and Fenris … somewhat less obvious. Oh, this had been good planning on everyone’s part.
"What?" Fenris grunted, noticing Anders staring and smirking. He followed the mage’s line of sight and sucked in a breath. So that’s why Artemis had… suggested the pond. Fenris was often underestimating his mage’s deviousness. "Oh."
"Oh," Anders agreed, grinning.
Artemis leaned into Cormac’s hand, turning to press his cheek to Cormac’s palm. His fingers continued to trace his more than interested knob. "Not the neighbour boy," he said, voice breathy. Honestly, Artie couldn’t even remember what he’d looked like. He looked up at Cormac through his lashes.
"Not the neighbour boy, hmm?" Cormac smiled wickedly down. He couldn’t even remember the neighbour boy’s name, after all these years. Wasn’t certain he knew it at the time, now that he thought about it. "Watching me, then? Going to make the earth shake to the thought of pounding it into your big brother?"
He knew better, but he was going to make Artie say it. There was something satisfying in watching Artemis confess his desires — the way he flushed and bit his lips. He supposed that was how it had always been, really. But, before the last utterly fucked up year, that had mostly been him just giving his little brother shit. Now, things were a little different. Different desires, different motivations.
Cormac picked at the laces of his trousers, with his free hand, not opening them, but loosening them — letting the warm air out, as his knob finally began to take interest in the proceedings. The potion was working, then, and that was one less thing to worry about.
Artemis licked his lips. "I… preferred the idea of you doing the pounding," he confessed to Cormac’s crotch, "while I did the shaking." And Cormac knew that. Artemis knew that Cormac knew that, but he’d never admitted as much sober. Maker. He couldn’t quite meet his brother’s eyes after saying as much.
Fenris strained to hear what they were saying. Artie sat as though he were fighting not to squirm, and Fenris surmised that he must be enjoying the conversation. Then he remembered that the abomination was there too and tried to act like he wasn’t staring.
"You don’t have to pretend," Anders said, kneading his own balls as he watched the brothers. He could still see Fenris not quite next to him. "We’re here to watch them. They’re putting on a show for us. I’m pretty sure Artemis means for you to enjoy it." It hadn’t yet occurred to him that he was wearing white, and the wet tunic clung to the scars beneath it.
"You want me inside you?" Cormac struggled to sound surprised. It was a lot less difficult than he thought it might be. "You want your big brother’s big, thick knob all to yourself?" He was starting to feel a little lightheaded, but somehow convinced his fingers to finish unlacing his pants. "I’ll tell you what. If you suck me until I’m hard enough to get it into you, I’ll pound you until they can feel it in Rivain."
Artemis shuddered and bit back a groan at those words. "Is that a promise?" he asked with a teasing smile, meeting Cormac’s stare with a heated look of his own.
He twisted onto his knees for better leverage and found himself face to face with his brother’s knob, a knob which he coaxed out of those tight pants. His own trousers hung low on his hips as he knelt. "Tell me what you like, Cormac," Artemis purred. "You want my mouth on you?" He bent to mouth at Cormac’s tip, tongue flicking out teasingly.
Cormac leaned forward, putting one hand on the tree and smoothing Artemis’s hair back with the other. "There will be tidal waves in Llomeryn," he breathed. Actually, he really hoped Artie didn’t destroy anything out here. The garden looked expensive and well cared for.
"What do I like? You watched me. I think you know what I like. I like it hard. I like it rough. I like sucking and biting." He ran a finger along his own length, tapping a few spots. "Here, and here, and here. I love teeth. Don’t be afraid to bruise me. I want that ache. I want to watch my gorgeous little brother wrap his lips around my knob." Sweat ran down Cormac’s side, and he hoped he smelled more like spunk and leather than panic. Yet another reason he’d gotten Anders to give him a hand.
"Here?" Artemis said, grinning against the first spot Cormac had pointed to. He nipped at the skin there, more a teasing press of teeth than a bite. "Here?" He nipped a little harder at the second spot, only to tease with a graze of teeth at the third.
Artemis knew his brother liked pain, but that was something he had to work himself up to. And he would, if asked, if needed, because here was Cormac going to all these lengths for him. The wardrobe said he’d planned this, which meant he’d been thinking about this, and… and Artie was thinking far too much for someone with a knob in his mouth.
Fenris swore under his breath, eyes glued to the sight.
Anders pinched himself and called up a quick sliver of a spell to make sure he wasn’t in the Fade. No, this was really happening, and he was really watching it, almost naked, with the broody death elf for company. It was weird enough he wasn’t sure a demon could even have come up with it.
"Yes, fuck, Artemis!" Cormac’s legs trembled, and a thousand completely irrelevant things ran through his head. He wasn’t drunk enough for this. Artie wasn’t drunk enough for this. And it was his own drunken fault neither of them were drunk for this. All the same, his knob had no complaints about the attention. Every nibble, every flicker of tongue made his spine crackle with some combination of pleasure and horror. This was his brother — his brother who’d drunkenly made him promise to do this, so it wasn’t really wrong. Artemis wanted it, he reminded himself, looking down at his brother’s very pretty lips wrapped around his knob.
Cormac stroked his brother’s hair with a shaking hand, rubbing behind his ear, again. "Is it good?" he asked.
Artemis grinned up at his brother around his knob, a pleased hum in the back of his throat giving Cormac his answer. He pulled back anyway to nip at his tip and purr, "More than good." Because that was the only descriptor his brain could conjure up. He was still thinking too much but not about the right things, apparently, that he couldn’t find an adequate adjective. Still. Any positive reinforcement had to count for something, right?
Artemis took Cormac back into his mouth with renewed fervour, adding another scrape of teeth. His hands clutched Cormac’s hips, thumbnails digging in to the exposed skin above his waistband.
"You’re so beautiful, Artie. Everything about you —" A flick of tongue ended that entire line of thought, and Cormac’s hips jerked forward, suddenly. "I’m sorry. Shit. You all right?" He caressed Artemis’s cheek, considering the situation. "Maybe I should put that somewhere else, before I choke you with it, by accident."
Not that there was really that much of him — not compared to Anders, anyway — but it generally wasn’t polite to accidentally shove one’s knob into someone’s throat. He’d gotten spoilt, over the last few years, so used to Anders holding his hips so tight he couldn’t. He supposed that probably added to the illusion, but there was such a thing as too much accuracy, and that was probably one of those things.
This time, Artemis made sure to bite him before pulling back. "Who says I’d mind if you did?" he asked with a challenging smirk. His hand trailed over Cormac’s knob as he spoke. "I’m all in favour of you putting this somewhere else, but I’m not exactly fragile. If I’m not force pushing you into a tree, you’re fine. You don’t have to be so… sweet about it."
Not that he didn’t like ‘sweet’. He enjoyed it as much as the next person, especially with Fenris, but sometimes… well. ‘Sweet’ hadn’t been a part of his fantasies with Cormac.
"Of course I’m sweet about it. You’re my brother," Cormac grumbled, tugging Artemis’s hair. "But, if you want me to stop treating you like you’re the most delicate and precious gift I’ve ever been given, I can do that." At least he hoped he could. "You want me to yank your hair and fuck your face? Hmm? Or were you just looking for something a little more than me trying desperately not to fall on you, while you make my eyes roll back in my head?"
A fine shiver ran through Artemis at those words, words that his knob seemed to find very pleasing. He tilted his head to better feel the tug on his hair. "I would like that," he said, voice rough, hips squirming. "Exactly that."
Cormac sucked in a sharp breath, getting a better grip on Artemis’s hair. Uncertainty lingered around his eyes, even as he forced a wicked smile onto his face. He jerked Artemis’s hair, shoving his knob into the space left by a gasp. "Like this?" Pushing in, slowly, he watched Artemis’s eyes, waiting for some sign he should stop. That was his brother’s throat reflexively clenching around his knob, and he panicked, for a moment, but forced it down. He pulled out more quickly, afraid of choking or vomiting or potentially worse things he hadn’t yet thought of. "You want me to give it to you like that?"
"Yes," Artemis breathed, trying to pull Cormac closer. "Like that." He looked up at his brother’s face, saw the barest hint of uncertainty there. "Not kidding about the force pushing, you know. You don’t have to worry about hurting me."
Under his breath, Fenris muttered a few colourful curses. He wasn’t sure he wanted to watch this, his mage being used this way, but… that was definitely a smile on Artemis’s lips. He could hear Isabela’s voice (‘Have you two danced the irrumambo yet?’ ‘You’re still saying it wrong.‘) and knew that she would laugh and tell him that his ears were vibrating. He swore again and clutched his ears to stop then, glaring in Anders’s direction, whether the abomination had noticed or not.
"If your mage hurts my mage," he growled, still holding his ears, "I will not be held responsible for my actions."
"If my mage hurts your mage, it would take the power of the Maker himself to keep my mage from doing much worse to himself than you ever could." Anders knew that look on Cormac’s face, if only because he’d worn the same look so many times, when he first started enjoying Cormac’s multiplicity of astonishing talents. And now, that same look on Cormac? Anders really wondered exactly what Artemis had suggested to get that response, because that was gold.
Cormac’s hand clenched in Artemis’s hair again, and his hips shoved stutteringly forward, until Artemis’s nose pressed against his belly. He wanted to close his eyes, but he knew he couldn’t. For all that Artie could take care of himself, it was on Cormac to make sure it didn’t come to that. So, he watched himself do this. Watched his knob slide in and out between his brother’s lips, as he felt the clenching and the rush of breath across his skin. He tried so hard not to think, just to give in and rut, slow and deep.
Artemis focused on breathing through his nose as best he could, harsh gusts of air against Cormac’s stomach. Relaxing his throat and jaw, he let Cormac use him however he wanted. The feeling of being overwhelmed, used, consumed, silenced that constant chatter in the back of his mind, silenced it in a way that usually only drink did. Which was funny, because usually Artie had to be drunk in order to do this sort of thing in the first place.
Cormac’s knob muffled the desperate sounds that wanted to spill out of Artemis’s throat, and Artie reached down to squeeze his own neglected knob.
Fenris gave up on keeping his ears still, and his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides in the water. He still couldn’t decide if he was enjoying this or not, but his treacherous knob seemed to assume that he was.
Anders shook his head, still not looking directly at Fenris, because that was one of those things one just didn’t do at times like this. "You know Artie’s enjoying it, right? You know if he wasn’t enjoying it, Cormac would be bleeding in unpleasant ways, right? Your mage can take care of himself. And he’s been kind enough to invite us to watch him. Don’t worry so much. You’ve got a ripple going, and I can feel it all the way over here. Relax. Enjoy. Get the other ripple going."
Cormac’s nails dug in to the bark of the tree, as he tried to do too many things at once — stand up, thrust, breathe, stop panicking, keep his eyes open. He saw the movement in Artemis’s shoulder, but didn’t have enough hands to make a point of it. Still … "Artie…? Did I say you could do that? Don’t you dare stroke yourself off. I want you aching for me. I want you desperate and pleading, when I push into you." Mostly because he needed Artemis in a condition where Artie would actually make demands.
Artemis whimpered around Cormac and forced his hand to uncurl around himself. He reached for Cormac instead, hands skating along his thighs and reaching around to grab the globes of his brother’s leather-clad ass. Artie was starting to get lightheaded from lack of air, but he didn’t mind, trying to take Cormac as deep as he could go.
"I know," Fenris rumbled, barely blinking and feeling a bit lightheaded himself. "It’s not the first time Artemis has shown such… interests." And maybe that wasn’t something he wanted to tell the abomination, but he wasn’t exactly thinking with the right head at the moment. He watched Artemis’s hips squirm, desperate for friction. "Venhedis," Fenris swore, digging fingernails into his thigh to keep himself grounded.
Anders just smirked, both hands occupied in his lap.
Cormac’s legs suddenly flexed, and he yanked Artemis back, by the hair, hand darting back to clutch at himself as he panted. "Enough." More than enough, really. Cormac took a few deep breaths, trying to bring himself back down, fingers digging in behind his balls. "You’re not going to finish me off that quick, Artie."
He pushed himself back off the tree, after a few moments, just standing and looking down at his brother’s swollen-lipped, spit-speckled face. "I want you on your back for me. Just shove your pants down a little and pick up your knees. No need to get your boots off or anything. I mean, we are a little close to town, aren’t we? Anyone could just walk by. Don’t want you losing your clothes, if we have to cut and run." Mischief gleamed in his eyes.
Artemis gulped in lungfuls of air. It was terrible how thrilling that thought was, being caught in the act, doing unspeakable things with his own brother, even if this was all just part of the game. They already had an audience, after all, and Artemis could feel their stares.
"Always thinking ahead, aren’t you, Cormac?" Artie teased. He pushed down the waistband of his trousers as instructed, hands trembling in anticipation, and settled down onto his back, shifting in the dirt and grass until he was comfortable. A tree root dug into his shoulder, and he scooted a little to the side. Trees. Why was it always trees?
"Like this?" Artie asked, clasping his hands behind his head, aiming for a cheeky smile. His heartbeat thudded in his ears.
"Just like that." Cormac knelt between Artemis’s ankles, running a finger down his brother’s knob. "So hard already, and just from the taste of me? I’m flattered." His eyes were thin bands of blue around the gaping black of his abject panic. Fortunately, lust was a very similar look, so he lowered his eyelids a little and smiled like he meant it. Grease first. Right. The magic warmed his palm, and he stroked the slick onto himself, wiping the rest off on Artemis’s knob, which was a terrible idea, considering how he meant to do this, really.
"Do you want me Artie? Do you want your big brother to fold you in half and fuck you in the ass?" Cormac sounded a little more breathy than he’d meant to, but he was struggling not to hyperventilate.
"Maker, yes," Artemis groaned. He grabbed Cormac by the shirt and pulled him down into a kiss, the desperate, breathless kind. This was actually happening. Cormac was going to… Maker. "Take me. Ruin me. I need you."
Fenris almost forgot how to breathe.
Cormac did forget how to breathe, for several seconds, at least, and then the words rushed out, all at once. "Oh, fuck, Artemis. I love you so fucking much." So much that he’d do this, because Artie asked him to. Not that he was disinterested, but he’d never have thought it, if Artie hadn’t said it — if Artie hadn’t kept saying it. This wasn’t something he could just blow off as a drunken fantasy any more.
He kissed his brother again, slowly, thoroughly, worshipfully, as he lined himself up, and then pulled back to watch Artemis’s face, as he pushed in.
"Oh, fuck, Cormac," Artemis breathed, knees pressing into Cormac’s flanks, pulling him in as close, as deep as possible. His head pressed back into the grass, eyelids fluttering shut as he offered Cormac his throat. He kept uttering pleas to Cormac and to the Maker. They’d barely started, and he was already overwhelmed.
"Yours," Cormac breathed, biting at Artemis’s neck, quick nips and nibbles along the throat, and deep, bruising bites where neck gave way to shoulder. "All of me. Always." He’d said it before, hundreds of times a year, since they were young. But, he’d never quite thought Artemis had taken that seriously — certainly not as seriously as he’d meant it.
His hips rolled, and he ground in deep, just feeling the way Artemis held him. A faint smile flicked across his face and he grabbed Artie’s wrists, both in one hand, and tugged them up over his head, pinning them loosely against the ground. "How about that, hmm? How about I hold you down and have my way with you, and when I’m done, I’ll lick you until you spurt all over my face?" It was, he reflected, a good thing he’d shaved.
Just that thought, those words, had Artie shuddering. His brother knew him too well. Or just well enough, he supposed. "Fuck yes," he groaned, flexing his wrists under Cormac’s grip but making no effort to pull them free. His eyes were nearly black with want when he opened them. "I want to feel you, to ache for days."
Artemis’s hips arched up into Cormac’s, trying to match his rhythm, to hit that angle that made him see stars.
"Be careful what you ask me for, little brother," Cormac purred, adjusting his knees until he was sure he wasn’t going to slip on the grass and make an idiot of himself — more of an idiot than usual, anyway. And then he pulled almost all the way out, just watching Artemis squirm under him. He dipped back in, a few times, just an inch or two, and waited until the sounds of frustration started. When he slammed all the way in, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep that savage pace, having knocked the breath out of himself with the sensation, but he tried. Thrust after thrust, rough and fast, hard and deep, he pounded into Artemis. This wouldn’t last, but he’d hold back as long as he could.
Artemis just held on for dear life, fingernails digging bruises into his palms. Each thrust sent sparks up his spine, shivery moans rising from deep in his chest. This was good. More than good. Painfully good. He had no breath in his lungs to plead, to say his brother’s name, but Cormac filled his senses, his head. He wasn’t going to last long either at this rate, his knob bruisingly hard.
"Scream for me, Artie. Plead with me. Beg me for what you want," Cormac panted against his brother’s neck. "I want to wake up in the middle of the night, months from now, aching hard, with your voice ringing in my ears. I want you with me forever. Destroy me, Artie. Break me."
His breath caught and his hips shivered, but he just kept going. Soon, so soon, but not now. Not yet. He wanted so much for this to last as long as it could, as long as he could keep pushing himself.
The ripples around Anders were a good deal closer together, by now, as he watched, wide-eyed. He’d seen Cormac with other people, but never like this. Cormac got like this with him, sometimes, but he’d never really gotten to see how that looked, other than the way Cormac’s eyes sparkled and the sweat beading along the lines of tattoos on his cheeks. But, this… He shot a quick glance in Fenris’s direction, before his eyes leapt back to the substantially more interesting goings on, under that tree.
Fenris chanced a furtive glance in Anders’s direction, noting the ripples and realising he knew what was causing them. It sent his ears vibrating again. He couldn’t hear everything the brothers were saying to each other, but he could see Artie’s face, could hear the slap of skin on skin and the shaky, desperate sounds his mage was making.
Chancing another glance in the abomination’s direction, making sure the mage wasn’t watching, Fenris reached down hesitantly, tentatively, to touch his knob. He needed to relieve the pressure, and he’d seen Artemis do this enough times. He sucked in a breath at the contact and turned back to the glorious sight in front of him.
For his part, Artemis thought it a bit unfair of Cormac to ask him to beg when each thrust scrambled his brain and knocked the breath right out of him. "Cormac," he panted, because that was simple enough to start. A name. A name he knew as well as his own. "I want… I need…" Subject, verb. Single syllables. "I want you. All of you. I want you to come while you’re buried deep inside me. I want… fuck. Use me. Please. I…"
Cormac’s next shove wrung a shout from his lips, his toes curling inside his boots. "Maker! Cormac, I’m… I…" Artemis trembled, and then the ground was shaking too, leaves rustling above their heads.
That was it. The sound of his brother shouting his name, the sound of that desperation in his voice. Cormac felt the ground start to shake, and then he lost track of everything, flashes of light and snippets of sound darting across his senses. He might have howled his brother’s name. He’d never be able to swear to it. And then the little things started to filter back in. The feel of grass against his fingers, the smell of leather and sweat, Artemis’s breath against his cheek. He groaned, slow and low, against Artemis’s ear. "You amaze me." His fingers unclenched from Artie’s wrists, still pressed against the trembling ground. "Didn’t I promise you a blowjob?"
The earth continued to shake for a moment as Artie hovered on the edge. He groaned in frustration, head falling back again, and the trembling subsided. "You did," he said, breathless, turning his head to nip at Cormac’s earlobe. He tugged at one of Cormac’s plaits teasingly as he said, "And one should always keep their promises."
"Don’t I always?" Cormac asked, slowly sliding himself out. The potion Anders had given him was working surprisingly well — not that he should have doubted it, but… For a moment, he just looked down. This was his brother, under him, flushed and panting, knob so hard it was turning purple. And completely sober. Every time the thought crossed his mind, it got a little bit less disturbing. Every time Artie wanted, it got a little easier to give.
He squirmed down between Artemis’s legs, ducking under the pants still stretched between them, and ran his tongue along the length of Artemis’s knob. Grease, he remembered, after a second. And that had been a terrible idea. Cursing his reflexes, Cormac kept licking, quick little darts of his tongue along the shaft. His fingers rubbed over Artemis’s hole, teasingly.
The water still rippled in the after-effects of that earthquake, almost enough to hide the movement of Fenris’s hand underwater. He struggled to hide the way his own breathing was picking up, gritting his teeth to keep from making a sound. His mage was beautiful, the way he squirmed under Cormac’s touch, lips parting in a gasp at the first touch of tongue to heated skin. Fenris would never tire of seeing that look on Artemis’s face.
As much as he enjoyed the sight of his two favourite Hawkes driving each other mad, Anders’s eyes slipped closed for a moment, and a soft sigh escaped him. A few deep breaths, and he was back to watching and wishing he was closer, or maybe at a different angle. Not that Artemis wasn’t an amazing sight, but there wasn’t much of Cormac to appreciate from here — he was still dressed, and Artemis’s thigh was blocking his face. Still, he reasoned, that wasn’t actually a complaint. He couldn’t find a complaint to have about this — the fact that it was happening, the fact that he’d been invited to watch it happen, the fact that the broody death elf next to him wasn’t tearing his heart out.
"Maker," Artemis panted, one hand reaching down to snare in Cormac’s hair, the other grasping a fistful of grass. He struggled to keep his hips still, to keep from arching up towards Cormac’s lips or into his fingers. "Stop teasing me, Cormac." He hated that he sounded more pleading than demanding, but he doubted his brother would mind.
Cormac lifted his head and smirked. "In all the years you’ve known me, when have I ever done anything without teasing you?" Still, he pushed his fingers in and crooked them just so, dragging his tongue slowly across the very purpled tip of Artemis’s knob. Even now, even like this, this was, after all, still his little brother.
Artie’s breath hitched at the press of those fingers, back arching. Cormac’s tongue was just enough to be maddening and to make him swear under his breath. "I swear to the Maker, Cormac," he growled. Artemis gave his brother’s hair a tug, reaching down to grasp a braid in each hand and pull him close suggestively. "I like the braids," he said, fighting back a giggle. "They’re like a set of reins."
"Yes, but horses don’t suck your dick." Cormac blinked, ears flattening against his head. "Or, at least I really hope they don’t. If they do, don’t tell me." He shuddered, more disturbed by that than any of this. After a moment of clearing that thought entirely out of his head, he gave in to the pulling — and the pulling was very encouraging — and licked just the head into his mouth, sucking hard and laving the tip with his tongue. His fingers stroked Artemis’s insides, rubbing and pressing, and he hoped this would at least rank as memorable — of course, he was going to be compared to the Tevinter elf, who probably had years of instruction in the most devastating techniques, but he could at least try for something a little more exciting than… No, in the end, his brother was probably having much more exciting sex than he was, and this was not nearly going to be the thrill Artie had been hoping for.
But the noises Artemis made said otherwise. His knuckles were white as he gripped Cormac’s hair, struggling not to pull any harder. He chuckled breathlessly. "Horses?" he said. "No, but then I wasn’t the one so, uh… close to that farmer boy." His next chuckle ended in a groan when Cormac’s fingers hit just right inside him. He was still slick with his brother’s spend, and the thought made him flush harder. "There’s also a ‘hung like a horse’ joke in there," he rambled, panting. "And we both know Anders — well."
Artemis really hoped Fenris couldn’t hear that comment. Since there were no sounds of murder from the pond, Artie suspected he hadn’t.
"Maker," Artemis panted again. "Maker. More."
Cormac leaned in closer, sliding his lips down Artemis’s length, as the tension on his hair tightened. He tried not to think about how much of his hair was going to stay in the brush, the next time he brushed it. But, that was the price, he supposed. You want to get yanked around by the hair, you lose some hair. He swallowed around the head and purred, circling his fingers against that spot that had made Artemis groan. The purring gave way to heated moans, loud and needy, as he pressed his tongue against his brother’s length, to make sure the vibrations would transfer. The harder he sucked, the better that worked, so he swallowed again.
"Fuck. Cormac! That feels… you…" How had he been able to form full sentences a minute before? Artemis pressed his hips down into the grass to keep from thrusting up into that incredible mouth and accidentally choking his brother. It was the sort of thing he wouldn’t have minded, but there was a certain etiquette here.
Artemis’s choked-off groans filled the garden. He knew he didn’t need to warn Cormac when he was close, not when the earthquake under them said as much for him. "Maker, I love you," he groaned. "You are amazing."
Cormac swallowed and just kept swallowing, long after Artemis had finished, working the last drips out with his tongue. Finally, he eased his fingers out and slid his lips off his brother’s knob. "I think that’s the first time I’ve ever sucked a confession of love out of someone," he muttered against Artemis’s belly, leaving a kiss, before he ducked back under the pants and rolled over to sprawl next to Artemis, in the grass. "That what you wanted? If not, I think I’m still good for a while. You can thank Anders, later."
Artemis let his legs flop bonelessly to the ground, staring dazedly up at slices of sky through sunlit leaves. He waited for his breathing to even out before he answered, scooting closer to his brother and curling against his side. Maker. Had they really just done that? Artie couldn’t even blame alcohol for that, not really. He couldn’t even blame his teenage hormones anymore. But regret was something he refused to feel.
"If I say ‘no’," Artemis said with a cheeky smile, "does that mean we’ll go again?"
Cormac laughed wrapping an arm under Artemis. "You don’t have to break my heart to get me to keep going. Just tell me what you want, and I’m yours. You know that. Haven’t I always said that?"
"Look at them," Anders sighed. "If I didn’t know there were years between them, I’d think they were born in each others’ arms. That’s… that’s something else. Never thought I’d see a mage…" But, they were lifelong apostates, he reminded himself — they hadn’t been trained by the Circle. They were almost free men. Almost real people. More than anything, he hoped they’d stay that way.
Fenris leaned back against the edge of the pond, catching his breath as he watched the tangle of mage limbs under the tree. He wondered if he should be worried, seeing how content Artemis looked wrapped around Cormac, and wondered how he could possibly compare. It was still odd to Fenris — more than odd — but they’d known each other their entire lives. Well, Artemis’s life.
As much as Fenris would prefer to ignore Anders, he wondered what the rest of that sentence was supposed to be. "Never thought you’d see a mage, what?" he asked, knowing he’d probably regret asking. He finally glanced over at the abomination, seeing his flushed cheeks and… A quick glance turned into a stare as Fenris noted the way Anders’s thin, wet shirt clung to his chest, transparent enough to display Anders’s scars in all their detail.
"Love." Anders said it like it was obvious — like it was something everyone, anyone, would know. "We’re not allowed. It’s selfish to bring someone close enough they can be used against you. It’s also a bad idea. When it’s just you on the line, there’s nothing they can do to you that matters. You fall in love, and people end up getting tortured to death." He didn’t sound like he was exaggerating or joking, voice strangely flat, his eyes on the Hawkes and his hands still in his lap, working a little harder to make up for the subject change. "But, they love each other. I don’t even think they’re afraid."
Fenris should have known this would turn into something about mages’ rights, but he didn’t have it in him to be indignant. Maybe it was the afterglow, or the look of contentment on his mage’s face, or the ugly scars on Anders’s chest that spoke of years of abuse, but he held back the scoff in the back of his throat.
For him, Danarius had considered love or even desire a distraction, and it was something Fenris never thought he’d know. It had taken a mage to give him back what another mage had taken away. He had never considered that loving someone had meant having something to lose, and Artemis… Fenris had almost lost him often enough, thanks to his own stupidity.
"Of course they’re not afraid," he rumbled. "They don’t understand what it means to…" Best not to finish that line of thought. It would sound dangerously like he was admitting to common ground between the abomination and himself.
"I think they do." Anders paused — another sigh, a few more deep breaths, and then his hands rose out of the water to push his hair back from his face. "I think they know exactly what it’s like to lose almost everything — everything but each other. And I’m really not sure they’ll lose each other, because I think they’ll die together. You’ve seen how Cormac gets about the family." A sad smile settled onto one side of his face. "I don’t think I’ll ever be that brave. I’ll stand by them. I’ll fight to the death next to any of the Hawkes. But, I just can’t do that again. The blood never really goes away."
Fenris looked at the brothers, his mage chuffing a laugh at something Cormac said, and knew he’d die for them too. He’d die for Artemis. And that was a sort of irony, wasn’t it? All that time, running and fighting for his freedom, and here he was, beholden to another mage of his own free will and wanting nothing less.
"What do you mean ‘again’?" he asked, despite his better judgement.
"You… I didn’t know you, then, did I?" Anders shook his head. This really wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. It wasn’t a conversation he’d wanted to have with Cormac, when it happened, and it wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have with Fenris, now. "You’ve heard me say I had a friend who was made Tranquil? The notes from the templars say it was his politics, and it was. They were after me. Almost got me, too. … That’s not the point. I touched him and he… he came back to me. Begged me to kill him. My best friend, Fenris. I can’t do that again. I can’t put Cormac in a position where that’s going to happen."
It wasn’t even half the story, really. Hit the high points, left out all the detail. There had been a time he was sure he’d been in love, and that everything that had gone wrong was a result of that. It wasn’t so much that the belief had been shaken as that he’d just put it away, where he didn’t have to look at it, any more. "Sometimes, I wonder what it’s like to be free. I’d ask you, but you don’t know either. I’d ask them, but they wouldn’t understand the question."
"I know something," Fenris said, a bit tetchily. And that wasn’t a lie, not entirely, anyway. What little he knew of freedom he’d learned from Artemis, and he had to wonder how free that truly made him, sometimes. "Danarius may still be hunting me, but I am… freer than I have ever been. And I’m not — I’m… still learning what that means, yes, but the one thing I’ve learned is that freedom, real freedom, means having something to lose." His hands splashed in the water for a moment as he gestured before forcing himself to still. "And you are… afraid of losing him. Cormac. I’d say that fear is as close to being free as you might get."
He wasn’t sure if he was making sense, to himself or to the abomination, but… Maybe Anders was right. What did he know?
A short, sharp laugh leapt from Anders’s lips. "If you’re right, that’s not exactly reassuring. I lost my family, when they took me away. I spent fifteen years reminded every day that I’m a curse upon Thedas, with no hope of redemption. When I finally made it out, they took the only thing that still mattered from me. And now that I have … now that I have a family again, even if it’s not really mine, I live knowing they’ll take that, too, one day." He ducked under the water for a moment, pushing his hair back, again, as he came up. "Just so you know? It’s not just them I’d fight for. You’re like the asshole little brother I never had, because I only had an asshole older brother. So, you know, don’t die, asshole."
At those words, Fenris recoiled as though struck, staring at Anders. That was, surprisingly, one of the nicest ways anyone had ever called him an asshole — twice — and from Anders? He could feel his ears twitching again, and curse Isabela for pointing out that they did that. "You — I’d always assumed…" Fenris cleared his throat. "Contrary to what you might think, I wouldn’t exactly… dance on your corpse either. Though if you get yourself killed, I might let Anton pee on it."
Which was, Fenris realised to his own horror, as close as he was going to come to saying ‘don’t die, either, asshole’. He coughed awkwardly and looked around him for an exit strategy.
Anders squinted through the splayed leaves in front of them. "Are they… they’re doing it again, aren’t they? Points to me. That potion is doing its job." He leaned back against the edge of the pond, watching, head tilted to one side. "Is that… wow. Is Artie always that kinky? Because I know they’re both into some things, but that…" Letting out a low whistle, he rubbed at the scruff along his jaw.
Fenris turned back to look at the brothers, grateful for a change in subject. "Kinky?" Fenris echoed, still gathering his wits. "Er, well. Not always, but…" And there was a relief, really. Anders was surely far more experienced in these… things… than Fenris was, and even he was surprised. "He has… ideas, sometimes."
He looked everywhere but at Anders at that, ears twitching. The noises his mage was making were a welcome distraction. "So… what exactly was in that potion?"