Jul 162015
 

[ Master Post ]
Title: Rhapsody In Ass Major – Chapter 129
Co-Conspirator: TumblrMaverikLoki
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Artemis Hawke , Fenris , Theron Mahariel , Kallian Tabris
Rating: E (L2 N4 S4 V0 D1)
Warnings: The internet is for porn, breathplay, exhibitionism, mild d/s, background het
Notes: Yet more applied elven culture.


Fenris gave Kalli an encouraging squeeze, and waited until she got up, before he poured himself off the couch, painfully hard in his tight leather trousers. He leaned down and ran a finger along Artemis’s spine. "Tip your hips up, mage," he growled. "You don’t want to drip on the floor." It was a shame, Fenris thought, that there was a rug in this room. He might have threatened to make Artie lick up anything he spilled, otherwise, just to see how that would go over. It wasn’t like their floors were ever dirty enough for it to matter.

Artemis purred at the sound of Fenris’s voice, low with want. Theron knew how to talk, knew what words he needed to wind Artemis up, but Artemis couldn’t feel Theron’s voice in his bones. He tilted his hips up obligingly and leaned forward onto his elbows, his limbs still shaky from Theron’s attentions. Attentions that Fenris had watched. Artie rested his chin on his forearms and looked coyly at Fenris over his shoulder.

One hand trailed down to Artie’s rump, squeezing one cheek appreciatively. Fenris pressed a thumb to Artemis’s stretched entrance, gathering the wetness that had started to drip and pushing it back in. Artemis shivered, muscles fluttering around Fenris as his elf stroked his well-used insides. "Te ardeo," Fenris murmured, marvelling again at the beauty of his mage. His mage, his because Artemis had given himself to Fenris.

"I’m not sure what you just said," Artemis replied, "but… same."

Fenris chuckled, bending forward to kiss the small of his back. "It means I adore you," he said to the skin there. He slid his thumb free and pressed another kiss between Artemis’s shoulderblades, where Theron had kissed him moments before. "It means I burn for you."

"Oh," Artemis breathed, fighting not to squirm. "Then yes, same. Definitely." Which was really much less eloquent than speaking Tevene, but after that much alcohol and this much fucking, eloquence wasn’t going to be Artemis’s strongest suit.

Fenris’s hand slid up along the curve of Artemis’s bottom, two fingers settling into those little divets Anders had pointed out, and while they didn’t fit as well as his thumbs, he had little doubt they’d do some good. He leaned against those points in Artemis’s hips, as his other hand picked open the knots on his trousers, which he struggled, for a moment, to free himself from. He had to remember to stop wearing leather, around the house — it always seemed to end like this.

Finally, Fenris held his knob in one hand, and he phased out the other, fingers sinking into the skin, pressing down into the bone on either side of Artemis’s spine, as he lined himself up. He was sure there was something he should be saying, here, but he had no idea what it should be. His eyes darted hopefully toward Theron, whose tongue was, unfortunately, otherwise occupied. Kalli seemed to catch on, though.

"You just want to be used, don’t you, shem? You want to get fucked full by real men and left panting on the floor in a pool of your own spend, don’t you?" she teased, sharply, winking at Fenris, who suddenly looked relieved.

"Do you want me to fill you, mage? Do you want me to pour myself into you and then give you back to Theron? We could probably pass you back and forth a few more times." Fenris pushed in, slow and deep, more to give himself the room to keep breathing than because he didn’t think Artemis could take it.

Artemis stifled a groan against his arm, feeling every inch of Fenris as he pressed in, so achingly slowly. Elves. Three elves, all with wicked tongues. Artemis wasn’t sure how he would survive the night, and he didn’t care. If he died from this, Artie hoped Cormac would erect a fitting memorial, though Maker knew what that would look like.

"Maker, yes," Artie breathed. "I love the way you feel inside me." He didn’t know if he meant Fenris’s knob or his fingers. Possibly both, the way pleasure shivered up his spine. "I want you to fuck me until my legs give out. And then I want you to keep going."

A muffled purr of approval came from Kalli’s crotch, where Theron’s face was buried, and she sucked in a breath, back arching as he did something especially wicked with his tongue. Wicked tongue. That was the disclaimer he should have had tattooed across his face. "Too bad I’m blocking your view, Theron," she said, voice breathy but not sounding the least bit remorseful. "It’s a nice one. And you should see what Fenris is doing with his fingers." Which was a question Kalli wasn’t going to ask, at least not until she was done with Theron’s mouth. She just assumed magic, assumed he was a mage as well, if regrettably earthquake-free. As far as she knew, anyhow.

Theron made an inquisitive sound, muffled by her muff. Kalli laughed, hips twitching over Theron’s face. "Do you want me to narrate?" she asked. Theron answered with another sound of approval.

Fenris chuckled, breathlessly, as he reached up to tug at the straps of leather that hung from Artemis’s neck. "Amatus, if that’s what you want, I’m going to need to pass you back to Theron. Do you know how much I love to watch you smile? Can you feel how much I like to watch you lose control?" He rammed in harder, this time, shivering at the sensation, not just slick but wet. "I won’t last…"

Still, Fenris tried to pick up the pace Theron had set, tried not to worry too much about hurting his mage, though that still clattered in the back of his mind. His fingers spread, hand sinking just below the skin as he slid it up Artemis’s back, wrapping his fingers around the curve of his mage’s ribs. He stroked the spaces between, letting the thrusts affect the motion of his hand. He could feel Artemis straining against the collar, forward and down, and he pulled a little bit harder.

This was his mage, he reminded himself. His. The mage belonging to him. The mage who had desired him and surrendered to him — dangerously so — kneeling before him, demanding to be taken. And Fenris complied, letting his body serve itself, driving himself into the hot, wet body beneath him. His hand clutched at Artemis’s bones, as Kalli’s voice wound through his mind, sound without meaning.

Artemis all but whimpered, overwhelmed with sensation, between the lovely pressure on his throat, the prickle of lyrium under his skin, and the harsh shove of Fenris’s hips. The collar was just tight enough to make his breathing ragged, and Artemis saved his words for later, when he could get the proper air and thought behind them. For now, he just felt.

"You should see the shem’s face," Kalli said with another breathless chuckle to both Theron and Fenris, "the way his eyes keep rolling back, mouth open around sounds he can’t quite get the breath to make." Theron wrung a sound of his own from Kalli. "So what do you think, shem? Is it too soon for another earthquake? I rather liked the way that felt."

Artemis looked up at her, a lazy smile curling at the edge of his lips. His knob certainly wanted to be interested, with everything that Fenris was doing, and it was going to end up extremely interested if he kept at it. He doubted Fenris would, though, from the way Fenris was moving, from the way the elf’s breathing turned ragged.

"Fen," Artie said, barely a breath of sound. He wanted to tell Fenris how much he wanted him, how much he loved being filled by him, but he wasn’t going to give up the lovely pressure on his windpipe just yet.

Fenris’s eyes squeezed shut, sparks flickering against the blackness, as a raw sound forced itself out of his throat. He wanted — he wanted so much, and some of it, he’d get, later. But right now, all he could have was this. Not that this was a disappointment, in the least. Just a taste of what still waited for him, once he recovered from this first round.

He tried so hard to hold back, thinking of other things, as he pistoned into his mage. Cormac and Anders together — that should have been enough to put him off, at least a little, but that led him back to the thought of Cormac throbbing against him, the two of them squeezed so tight inside Artemis. And whatever he might think of Cormac, that had felt amazing.

Jagged little whimpers dribbled out of Fenris, as he struggled with himself, losing the awareness that he was being watched, that there was anything in the world beyond Artemis, beyond his mage’s lascivious desires and gorgeous body, beyond the choked sounds and fluttering muscles… Pleasure and pain slid together in a blurry haze as Fenris spurted so hard he thought he’d passed a testicle. For a long moment, he was sure his internal organs were sliding out of his knob, and he couldn’t bring himself to be concerned with that at all.

Some uncountable amount of time later, he came back to his wits draped across Artemis’s back, one hand still loosely clutching the collar, and the other frozen as it had to be to press against Artemis’s heart, without squeezing. "Theron," he slurred. "Trade me." He caressed Artemis’s heart as he pulled his hand free, feeling its rhythm pick up and a breath stutter out of his mage. He pressed a kiss to Artie’s nape, tasting the salt of sweat, as he slid free. "Te ardeo," he reminded Artemis, who smiled. Fenris thought it best not to point out that now he was definitely dripping onto the rug. He’d suggest they get rid of the rug altogether, if he didn’t suspect Artemis would punish him with mage-floors.

Kalli sat up off of her haunches and Theron’s face, scooting backward on her knees across the rug. She and Artie both had red marks on their knees for kneeling for so long, their skin stippled by the rug. Kalli offered Fenris a devilish smile. "Does your tongue need a disclaimer, too?" she asked. "Or is that wishful thinking?"

Fenris honestly wasn’t sure. The one time he’d been with a woman, faces had lined up with faces and genitals with genitals.

"His tongue is not bad," Artemis said, sitting up on his knees to give his back a break. "But it’s his hands that need the disclaimer." His grin said it all.

Kalli’s eyebrows shot up. Sure, she’d been watching and saw what Fenris was doing, but to watch it and to feel it were two separate things. "That… feels good? What he was doing?" She waggled her fingers to illustrate, in case Artie wasn’t sure what she meant.

Artemis nodded emphatically.

"What?" Theron asked, sitting up and scooting over as well. "What did I miss? What was Fenris doing with his hands?"

Fenris smiled serenely, raising one hand and fading it out, before he reached around Artemis and plunged it into his chest, ever-so-gently caressing the heart that quickened against his fingers.

Horror flashed across Theron’s face, but Artemis did not look unhappy with the situation, at all, and the concern subsided quickly, followed by an intense curiosity. "Dirthamen’s name, what are you even…" he breathed, trailing off as he leaned closer. He wasn’t imagining it. Fenris’s fingers were inside Artemis’s chest, at an angle that suggested he held the mage’s heart in his hand. Looking up, Theron offered Artemis a dizzying smile. "I don’t think that’s usually what people mean about giving someone your heart."

"That’s disgusting…" Kalli sounded fascinated. "And amazing… You’re a mage, then?"

"Why does everyone always think I’m a mage?" Fenris huffed, sliding his hand slowly out of Artemis’s chest, again. "Amatus, the rug…" he murmured. "Lie back and put your hips in my lap, until these two finish making up their minds."

Artemis looked down at the rug and the mess he was making and swore under his breath. "Oh, that… that will be fun to clean," he sighed, shifting back and wriggling onto Fenris’s lap. Later. That was a problem for later, and there was enough skin against his to keep him from obsessing about it now.

"I don’t understand," Kalli said, looking over the entwined pair. "If you’re not a mage, then—?" But she caught the look on Artemis’s face, the subtle head shake he gave her. That just made her want to ask more questions, but she kept them tucked behind her teeth.

"Well, however you do it," Theron said, his smile still this side of uneasy even as he crawled closer, "I’m afraid that’s one trick I cannot do." And that was one of his greatest regrets, if touching Artie that way put that look on his face every time. "But I still have some tricks of my own." Theron grabbed the strap of leather hanging from Artemis’s neck and tugged, pulling the mage off of Fenris’s lap and into his. Artemis squeaked, legs sprawling to either side of Theron, who wrapped an arm around his waist. "How many earthquakes do you think we can make?" Theron purred against Artemis’s ear, sucking the lobe between his teeth. "Enough to rattle the neighbours’ windows? Maybe shake the floor of the Chantry across the way?" He ground up into Artie as he spoke, knob rubbing along the wetness still leaking from his hole. The leather in his hand pulled taut, and Artemis’s neck arched back, a soft, pleading sound caught in his throat.

Kalli winked at Fenris before climbing into his lap, the heat of his chest seeping into her back as she watched her husband and his shem. She took one of Fenris’s hands, pressed those long fingers between her legs. "No glowing for now," she said.