[ Master Post ]
Title: Rhapsody In Ass Major – Chapter 109
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Cormac Hawke ♂, Artemis Hawke ♂, Anders ♂, Fenris ♂
Rating: M (L2 N2 S3 V0 D1)
Warnings: The electricity trick, new and sexy uses for magic
Notes: Old wounds and unexpected pleasures. Fenris finds a use for magic.
Artemis toyed with the golden chain hanging from his neck, just to give his fingers something to do that didn’t involve grabbing any part of Cormac. It was unfair how ragged his breathing had grown after just a few words, but Cormac always knew just what to say. "Is that a promise?" he purred, lips against Cormac’s ear. "You know just how to take care of your little brother, don’t you?"
There was a tug on his chain as Fenris took it back from Cormac. Artemis pulled away from his brother reluctantly and looked up at Fenris with big eyes.
"Always," Cormac said, half a promise and half a reminder. He looked up at Fenris. "I think our mage is looking forward to some more earthquakes. Do you want to see how many we can get him to give us?"
"My mage," Fenris growled. "What filth have you been promising him?"
"Oh, just that we’d fuck him full and then I’d lick it all out." Cormac shrugged, a faint smile on his lips.
That sounded like potentially one of the more disgusting things Fenris had heard, since he came to Kirkwall. Certainly there were more vile things in Tevinter, but this was close to the top of the list. "That ‘we‘ would? How many of us are ‘we’?" He decided not to bring up the other objection, since it was entirely up to Cormac what he’d put in his mouth.
"Whoever he wants and you’ll allow." Cormac smiled up at Fenris. "You know what he likes…"
Fenris looked coolly down at the three of them, careful not to tighten his grip on the chain. Artemis rose to his feet, filling Fenris’s vision.
"It’s up to you," Artemis said. He pressed a kiss to Fenris’s lips, stroked the side of his face. He kept his next words soft, so that only Fenris could hear them. "Remember what I told you, hmm? You need to tell me if it’s something you do not want."
Which was well enough in theory, when Artie wasn’t looking at him with those pleading eyes. "I will let you do this. I will watch you do this. And you will be done when I tell you that you are done. Is that good enough?" Fenris’s words were just as quiet.
Cormac watched, silently, reaching back to squeeze Anders’s hand. This was different, this time. It might involve all four of them, if Fenris could convince himself not to kill Anders for even looking at Artemis like that. Cormac wasn’t interested in Fenris, and Fenris didn’t seem to be interested in him, which had the potential to get a little awkward, but as long as the focus was on Artemis — as long as Artemis didn’t ask for anything too bizarre, like that one time…
Artemis kissed Fenris hard enough to rock him back on his heels, fingers tangling in white hair. "Te amo," Artie reminded him between smaller, nipping kisses. "I don’t deserve you." Grinning, Artemis reached over their heads and plucked a lime blossom from the tree. He tucked it behind Fenris’s ear just to watch it twitch.
Fenris sighed and gave him a look that was somehow both long-suffering and fond. Anders smirked behind his hand and waggled his eyebrows at Cormac. This could either be amazing or disastrous. Or amazingly disastrous. He couldn’t tell.
"That looks promising," Anders ventured, nibbling the edge of Cormac’s ear. "Are the two of you going to join us? Will Fenris and I get to do more than just watch, this time, Artie?"
"Just watching?" Cormac teased, turning his head to kiss the side of Anders’s nose. "Do you mean to tell me the two of you haven’t been manhandling each others’ funbits?"
"I think he’s allergic to mages, other than your brother." Anders shrugged. "Although we never did check to see if I had anything that would make for a less-horrific experience."
‘Less-horrific’ wasn’t exactly the standard Fenris wanted to go into this with. "Or maybe I’m just allergic to abominations," he sniped, more out of habit than any real rancour. "And… do you mean to do this here? In the garden, with the…" He darted a look at Artemis. "…statuary?"
Artie coughed and scratched the back of his neck. "The garden, ah, has been redone. As you know. As you can see. The statues are more, um. Stable. Less likely to fall over."
‘Less-horrific’. ‘Less likely’. This was one instance where less was not more, where Fenris was concerned.
"Better Artie rattle the statuary than the walls," Anders reminded him. Smirking, he added, "Shale didn’t seem to mind."
"Shale… didn’t…? Oh Maker." Artie groaned, passing a hand over his eyes.
"We do still have a full party with at least one templar, inside," Cormac noted, twisting to stretch his leg. "Out here, we have a few statues that Anton made sure were a little more… er… earthquake proof, and a goat. It’s also dark and starry, out here, and there’s fresh air, and anything we get on the ground will soak in."
"And I’m not an abomination," Anders muttered under his breath, finally registering the rest of what Fenris had said.
"No, you’re really not," Cormac said, rubbing his fingertips over Anders’s scruff. "We’ve seen enough of those. They’re not nearly as amazingly sexy as you are."
Fenris was almost willing to concede that point — not that Anders was sexy, but that abominations did tend to horrifically deform the host, after a while, and that even when Justice showed itself, Anders still looked like Anders, aside from the glowing. Still, that was not the point that needed to be settled. "This is for you, Amatus. It’s your decision. Which is the lesser risk?"
Artemis chewed his lip, glancing back at the house. He didn’t relish the thought of pushing his way through the crowd just to get somewhere more rattly, especially after that close call with Cullen. On the other hand, trees.
"Out here. Out here is fine. Just… out of sight of the patio, obviously. And the goat. The goat is looking at us like it knows what we’re thinking."
Anders glanced over his shoulder to see the goat at the edge of her pen, chewing hay and staring at them without blinking. "I second the point about the goat, actually." He rose to his feet, dusting off his skirts. On his head, Purrcy yawned and stretched.
"I’m thirding the goat. Let us not be too near the goat." Cormac agreed, grabbing onto Anders and dragging himself to his feet. "I think we should put Purrcy aside, too. Let’s not traumatise the kitty, hm?"
"Purrcy," Anders cooed, removing the cat from his head. "Would you like to spend some time visiting with Goatilda?" He let the cat into the goat pen, watching for a few moments, to be sure all was well, between them. The cats had always gotten along with the goat, and this time seemed no different.
"I’ve seen some of the invoices for this garden," Cormac said, looking around. "And I know there’s furniture we paid for that I haven’t actually seen. Benches, swings, a fountain… I’m willing to bet none of that can be seen from the patio."
Fenris’s eyebrow twitched, but he knew better than to ask. He’d known magisters with gardens like that, likely designed for a similar purpose.
Artemis clucked his tongue. "And here Anton only gave me a tour of the flowers and the goat pen." He twined his fingers with Fenris’s and tugged him deeper into the garden, around the trellis that hid the rest of it from view. It occurred to him that holding Fenris’s hand might be redundant with the chain in Fenris’s grip, but whatever.
They followed a flagstone walkway shadowed by a bower made of trees woven together, branches lacing overhead.
"Okay," Artemis huffed, looking up at the braided branches. "I’m a bit envious."
"This is amazing…" Cormac followed the path, eyes taking in the wide array of low-light flowers and small statues that would be covered in vines, by the next year. Nothing Artie was likely to knock over — short, wide-bottomed pieces, some depicting dragons, others of men and women in heroic poses. Fairly traditional garden art, until the end of this path, which wrapped around a shallow, stone basin, the rim carved in an impression of ancient Tevinter erotic art. Interesting that Anton hadn’t chosen a more Orlesian look, given the local trend toward Orlesian art and fashion, but Anton had always had a taste for slightly understated things. Fantastically tasteful, regardless of how he talked it up. The ground between the loop of the path and the basin seemed to have been sculpted in waves, radiating out from the centre. Tall metal torches stood, unlit, on the outside edge of the clearing.
"Your brother has fantastic taste," Anders said, further examining the carvings. "I think this isn’t just decorative," he muttered, running his hands over some of the ridges. "I think this may also be actual Tevinter work. What did this cost you guys?"
"You don’t want to know." Cormac laughed, sitting down on the rim of the basin. He shifted to the side and noticed that his thighs sank into shallow cups carved into the stone. "Definitely made for sitting on."
"I know a few other things made for sitting on," Artemis said, letting go of Fenris’s hand to plop into his brother’s lap. He hooked an arm around Cormac’s shoulders. "You make a lovely chair."
Fenris almost forgot he was holding Artie’s chain as he wandered about the clearing. "It is Tevinter," he said, careful to keep his voice neutral. He stopped just before the chain could pull taut. "Danarius had… a similar piece in his garden." He gestured vaguely at the piece Cormac was sitting on. His face carefully blank, his twitching ears were the only thing that betrayed any reaction.
Anders sat next to Cormac, wriggling his bum until it fit into the curved stone. "Hmm. I suspect this was made with the legendary Hawke ass in mind," he said. He doubted Danarius’s had been but didn’t say as much.
"Your ears are twitching," Cormac said to Fenris. "Is that a good twitch or a bad twitch?"
"My ears do not twitch!" Fenris insisted, one hand grabbing at an ear to still it.
"No, I’m… watching your ears twitch," Anders confirmed. "Maybe you should come sit by me, and I’ll see if I can help you relax a little. Magic fingers." Anders wiggled them.
"I have had enough magic in my—" Fenris stopped in the middle of that extremely displeased sentence, letting his curiosity get the better of him. "Do you actually think you can make it stop hurting?" he asked, twisting the tip of his ear.
"Well, you and Artie don’t seem to have any problems, so it must be possible. How do you—"
"I ignore it." Fenris’s smile was less than entirely pleasant, and the ear he wasn’t holding twitched hard enough he couldn’t ignore that.
Artemis’s smile slipped at that. He remembered their first time lying in Fenris’s bed — now their bed — when he’d first traced those lyrium lines with his fingers. Fenris had told him then that Artie’s touch hurt, even if it was ‘not unpleasant’, or something to that effect. Somewhere along the line, after all this time and after the number of times Fenris had enjoyed his body, Artie had stopped worrying about it. Which he shouldn’t have. Ever.
"Would healing magic help?" he asked, twisting in Cormac’s lap to address Anders. That was one type of magic Artie couldn’t offer Fenris.
"No," Fenris answered before Anders could as he padded over to the three of them. "I have felt his healing magic. It is… it does not help with that." And that was something he wondered if he could blame Danarius for doing onpurpose, or if that was just a side effect of the lyrium. He considered the empty space next to Anders, the cradling indentations that would sit him closer to the abomination than he usually preferred. But that didn’t matter, he reminded himself. Anders would need to be close enough to touch for this to work.
"So, let’s try something totally different. No creation. Maybe ice might soothe it?" Anders suggested. "If it’s irritation from the lyrium, that might make it better. There’s a lot of use for ice in healing."
Fenris swallowed and held out his hand, closed. "Artemis… te amo. You know that I have never turned away from your touch, and I never will. But, he put this idea in my head — that maybe this is something that could be even better, that I might come to desire you even more than I do, if this one thing weren’t there, distracting me from you. You have taught me there are good and decent uses for magic, and I want to believe this can be one of them." He opened his hand and nodded. "If you can’t trust the healer, when you are unwell, then where do you turn?"
"A mage broke it. Let’s see if a mage can fix it." Anders grinned, bringing up a chill around his fingertips and touching two fingers to a line in Fenris’s palm.
Artemis shifted in Cormac’s lap to get a better look at what was going on, turning in time to see Fenris bare his teeth and suck in a hiss. Lyrium markings lit along that arm, from palm to shoulder. Anders frowned, but Fenris didn’t pull his hand away.
"Was that reaction pain or surprise?" Anders asked. He was speaking in his ‘healer voice’, calm and clinical but warming.
"It’s…" Fenris’s jaw muscles worked as he ground his teeth. "It… burns a bit." His markings stayed lit a few seconds after Anders had taken his hand away, but the sensation lingered. "Heat?" he suggested, shrugging.
Anders sucked in a breath. Heat. Right. Not fire, just heat. He shook the cold out of his fingers and cast again.
"Not heat!" The words were out almost as soon as Anders’s fingers touched him, and Fenris’s markings lit all the way up his neck to his chin.
Anders jerked his hand back. "Not heat. Lesson learned. I assume that if moving the earth would solve this problem, the two of you would already know it, so let’s try something a little strange. If this doesn’t work, I’m not going to hold it against you if you punch me."
"What are you…?" Fenris asked, eyeing Anders a bit suspiciously.
Anders held up his hand, and tiny purple sparks danced between his fingertips as he wiggled them. "Isabela calls me ‘sparklefingers’ for a reason."
"Yes, but you use that as a — Oh. That’s why I would punch you, yes." Fenris managed half a smile, smoothing one hand down the arm that still glowed faintly, and the light went out. He took a deep breath. "I am insane. Artemis, I have gone mad with my love for you. Let that never be questioned. Do it."
"Sometimes, I swear insanity’s contagious," Anders said, his smile just this side of nervous. His fingers hovered over that stripe of lyrium until Anders took a deep breath of his own and closed the distance, steeling himself for that punch.
Another breath sucked in through Fenris’s teeth, and Fenris straightened, fingers twitching but not curling into a fist and not striking Anders. Lyrium lit the length of Fenris’s body while Anders kept holding his breath, trying to read that reaction.
"That’s…" Fenris knew he had the words somewhere. He could feel them clogging in his throat. "Venhedis."
"Is that a good venhedis or a bad venhedis?" Anders asked.
"A disbelieving venhedis," Fenris replied. "That feels…" He swallowed. "It’s not pain."
"That sounds good," Cormac observed. "Go poke him in the other arm," he suggested, bouncing his thigh and patting Artie’s ass. "Just be more gentle with him than you are with me. Unless he’s into that. Are you into that, Fenris?"
"I might have an answer, if I had any idea what you were talking about, but I probably don’t want to know." Fenris squirmed, fingers tensing and spreading. He remembered Anders teaching him to massage Artemis’s back and wondered what it would be like to have Artemis’s hands on him like that, like this. He thought he might never get out of bed again.
"Mage… healer… thank you." His eyes stayed on Anders’s hand, where it met his own.
"I have a name, you know," Anders teased.
"You do not!" Cormac reminded him. "Or if you do, you haven’t shared."
Anders huffed. "Fine, I have a common reference. Principally, it counts as a name."
"Anders, Fenris just said the words ‘thank’ and ‘you’ to you, unironically," Artemis said. "Together, even! Baby steps." He squeezed Anders’s shoulder in a thanks of his own and slid to his feet, fussing a moment with the panels of his skirt before sitting to Fenris’s other side.
His fingers crackled with electricity, but he hesitated. How much charge was too much? Too little? He hadn’t yet mastered the subtle art of ‘not frying people’ with this particular spell, and Fenris was the last person he wanted to fry. Magic. That was something he usually avoided with Fenris, except when he couldn’t help it.
Artie shook himself before he could work himself into a state and kept the charge in his fingers at the low end of ‘interesting’. Green eyes met his, waiting, expectant, adoring, and Artemis touched his fingers to the inside of Fenris’s wrist.
Those beautiful green eyes rolled back, and Fenris’s entire body tensed, head tipping back, thighs spreading a little wider. A low groan wrenched out of him, as he struggled to catch his breath.
"That’s usually my reaction when he does that to me, too," Cormac remarked, resisting the urge to drop a jolt across Fenris’s toes. That just… no. Anders was more than enough in the ‘mages other than Artemis’ department, he was sure.
"Mages," Fenris growled, with a distinct lack of ill intent, struggling to remember where all the parts of his body were, now that they didn’t ache dully. The subtle pain that had been the background to everything had faded out, however briefly, to be replaced by this pleasant tingle. The sensation was even more compelling at the points of contact. He tilted his head forward, looking at the ground between his feet. "Touch me."
That look on Fenris’s face was one Artemis planned to commit to memory, and memory was best served through repetition. Artie leaned in, kissing the corner of Fenris’s jaw, mouthing at his neck, at the soft skin behind his ear. All the while Artemis’s hand traced lyrium lines he knew by heart, mapping every bend, every swirl, from the inside of Fenris’s wrist, up to his shoulder, down to his chest.
Fenris’s breathing deepened, toes curling against flagstone. Even his mage’s lips were electric, mage skin lighting nerve endings he didn’t know he had. He wondered, for a moment, if this was the way Artemis felt when he reached inside him. And then he stopped wondering, stopped thinking, anything, brain shorting out enough for him not to care when a second hand traced his tattoos from the other side, a hand he knew belonged to Anders.
Anders’s other hand slid up Cormac’s thigh, without comment from either of them, and Cormac tugged his loincloth out of the way, leaning closer to nibble behind Anders’s ear. Cormac’s hand darted up under Anders’s skirt, pressing his own sparking fingers against Anders’s inner thigh. Perhaps this was something that needed to happen, Cormac thought. And if Artemis wanted it, he’d … do whatever he was told, really, but for now, his hands would stay on Anders, who hooked a foot around his ankle.
"Oh, Artemis," Fenris gasped, one hand finally free to press into his mage. He glowed more strongly, reaching back to sink his fingers into Artemis and grab his hip. His fingers traced along the curve of bone, down over the pelvic arch and back up, stroking and caressing the bone. Everything was perfect, aside perhaps from the part where Anders was touching him, but if that mage could make him feel this good, he was willing to overlook it. He could tell the difference not just in their hands, but in the quality of the electricity that ran through his skin. Anders was smoother, gentler, more sensual. Artemis was strong and raw, demanding and sexual — so different from so much else about his mage, but no less thrilling for that.
Artemis sucked in a breath, twisting into Fenris’s touch but determined to keep his focus. The last thing they needed was for him to lose control of his electricity. Eventually he swore, needing, aching to be closer, and he swung into Fenris’s lap, mindful of the spikes as he pressed thighs to thighs. Someone was going to injure something on that corset before the night was over, and Artie thanked Andraste they had a healer with them.
Fenris adjusted his grip on Artemis’s hipbone, reached down and around to tease at his tailbone. He breathed in his mage’s gasp, lips meeting clumsily, distracted enough not to notice that there was still only one hand on him per mage. Artie’s other hand was occupied with Anders, tracing the inside of his thigh.
Anders cupped Cormac’s balls and squeezed in that way he knew Cormac loved, and sure enough, the spark against his thigh flared and shot through him. Artie’s hand on one leg, Cormac’s on the other, and just enough magic running through him to let him say stupid things. "Do you want us?" he asked, not clarifying who he was asking or which ‘us’ he meant. "Tell me. We can make it happen. Anything you want."
And that was a bad habit he’d picked up from Cormac — ‘anything’. He knew better, in all the worst ways, but he didn’t think any of them would take advantage of that in a way he didn’t want to deal with. Artie usually liked being held down; Cormac liked being hurt. And Fenris… He didn’t have the sense that Fenris would be particularly kinky, aside from that glowing hand thing, which frankly scared the shit out of him, and okay, there was that. That was something he’d probably object to pretty strongly, so maybe ‘anything’ really wasn’t something he should have been offering. But, it was already out of his mouth, and Cormac’s hips rocked against his hand, and there were two brothers with their electric fingertips up under his skirt, and just maybe he’d get through the night without any complaints. That and the sounds Fenris was making were enough to make him ache, all by themselves.
"Anything," Cormac agreed, swallowing his own objections at the idea he might end up getting a lot closer to Fenris than he thought either of them would actually like. That, really, was the best thing going for him. Fenris wouldn’t stand for it, either. Well, unless Artie made that face. And then they were both done for.