[ Master Post ]
Title: Rhapsody In Ass Major – Chapter 157
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Cormac Hawke ♂, Artemis Hawke ♂
Rating: M (L3 N2 S4 V0 D0)
Warnings: Cormac opens his mouth, explicit recounting of past sex acts, hot Hawke-on-Hawke action
Notes: Artie asks for dirty stories, and Cormac’s all too pleased to tell some.
"Come sit in my lap and let me make you smile, hmm?" Cormac paused. "That sounded so much dirtier than I meant, but if that’ll put a smile on you, count me and the junior Warden in. I just meant I’d tell you the other half of some stories I used to tell you I’d tell the rest of, when you were older. I deserved every force push you ever gave me for that, too. But, hey, now’s as good a time as any. You’re older than I was when I said it, and if that wasn’t enough, I think we’ve already violated almost every taboo two mage brothers can break, without summoning any demons."
Artemis chuckled, leaning in for one more, lingering kiss before climbing into his brother’s lap, limbs tangling. He wriggled until he was comfortable, making a point to wriggle on Cormac’s knob, where it still tented his robes. "Mm, stories or your knob?" Artemis purred, nuzzling just under Cormac’s ear. "How about both, and then I’ll really smile?"
"Yes. Maker, yes. Artemis, yes. You know I’m going to have to start taking your name in vain, now, right?" Cormac teased trying to tug his robes up. "How about my knob and stories about my knob, hmm? But, that edges out into exactly how wicked you want to hear. I know how very loud I can get. I know you’ve heard things to make you wonder…" He also knew Anders probably wasn’t the only person he’d said completely bizarre and insane things to. Impossible things. Bloody stupid things, and he hoped Artie hadn’t heard too many of those. "Anything you wished you’d been watching? I’ll tell you all about it. If you like it, I’ll probably let you do it to me, too."
This was easy, Cormac thought, and that thought should have disturbed him a lot more than it did. Maybe an hour ago, Anders had put a stop to that amazing, but uncomfortable, series of events, and here he was, yet unwashed, offering to fuck the neurotically clean brother he finally realised he’d always regarded as a deity. Things were just as fucked up as they’d always been, and as usual, his answer was to fuck the problem into submission — or at least to fuck until he stopped thinking about it, which wasn’t quite as useful, but there wasn’t much else for this one. Not yet, anyway.
"My name in vain, hmm?" Artemis murmured, grinding down into Cormac’s lap. "Are you going to start swearing by my balls now? Sebastian would shit bricks. It would be delightful!" Which, really, was asking for trouble. There he went, giving Cormac ideas. He kissed under Cormac’s chin, beard rasping against his cheek, and nibbled at the soft skin there. "Tell me all your favourite stories, hmm?" he purred against Cormac’s skin. "Tell me about your first time."
"Oh, blight. The very first? I don’t even remember what town that was. I’ll skip the first, you don’t want to hear about her. The second is more your style. Right around when I got my face done, actually. I spent so much time in the Alienage, there, and yeah, okay, I am acquainted with elven… ‘culture’. He was a little older, I think, not much. But, he was there. I’d come out of talking to someone, and he’d be leaning on the wall, by the door, drinking or reading or flicking rocks at birds. Didn’t say anything for a long while. Finally," Cormac choked on the word and laughed, "finally, he asked me — not even looking at me — he asked me if it was true that shemlen had big, ugly knobs, because he’d heard stories. I laughed and told him I’d show him, if he really wanted to know. Figured it would run him off, but… I guess he was into that. Who knew? Not me. Not at that age."
He buried his face against Artie’s hair. "We ended up in an alley — you remember how I used to dress, back then. No robes. Wasn’t so easy. But, oh, Artie, his mouth… I didn’t know what I was doing, but I didn’t have to. Once I walked into that alley, I just followed his lead. Looking back, I guess he wasn’t really that good at it — not in any traditional sense of ‘good’ — slurping noises and teeth, but… teeth… You know what I like. You know what I like better than I knew what I liked, at the time. I came in his mouth and he bit me and spit on the ground. Told me that was a waste, and I’d better be wiling to give him something, now that I couldn’t give him that."
"Oh, Artie, shit, it was terrible. Not in the actually bad way, but in the ‘I am so hideously embarrassed to even have this story to tell’ way." Cormac laughed against the top of his brother’s head. "I was going to get down on my knees, because that was what he’d just done, and I didn’t know any better, and then…" He laughed again. "You remember that alley in Lowtown? A lot like that, but with less lube. Spit and wood-wax, I think. Hurt so bad, when he shoved into me, that I nearly came again. I felt it through my whole body, like a new kind of magic. I checked a couple of times to make sure I wasn’t casting. But, he pretty much just jerked himself off with my ass, and left me leaning on the wall, aching hard all over again — you know how it was, when we were young. He’s tying his pants on, and I asked him if we could do it again, when I came back the next day." He laughed again. "Spent most of that month in that alley, and then we left town."
Artemis cackled against Cormac’s neck, reaching down between them to lazily stroke Cormac’s knob. "That’s two of us, then, buggered for the first time by an elf’s… ‘culture’." He snickered again and nipped at the corner of Cormac’s jaw. "You were there for my first time. Well, sort of. Outside the aravel, with the rest of Theron’s clan." And, Maker, how stupid had that been? His ears and cheeks turned red even as he thought about it. "I mean, we fooled around a bit before, but hadn’t gotten to the, ah, earthquakes yet. Did you know he thought that was a ‘shem’ thing? Seriously. Last time I saw him, he told me he’d thought we all made the earth shake." And that was another thought that had him cackling again. Poor Theron, trying figure out what he was doing wrong. "But that first time. Maker, that first time. He held me down, and I had to bite my lip to keep quiet. I knew you were on the other side of the wall. Even then, I think I wanted you to hear me."
"If I knew you then, like I know you, now, I’d have wanted to hear you. I’d have been listening for it. Shit, Artie, I don’t know if I’d remember half as many of those stories, if I’d been struggling to hear you get fucked." Cormac ground against Artemis’s hand, nuzzling his cheek. "You know, I do want to hear you, one day — really hear you. Maybe it should just be us. No one watching. No one to quiet yourself for. I adore every sexy little sound you make, but… the way I can always knock a shout out of you, right before you come… I know you’re holding back. I want to hear everything. Every moan, every gasp, every ridiculous thing you’re trying not to beg me for. I don’t need you to get loud — I’m loud enough for both of us. I just want you to finish those little sounds you try to swallow."
"Maker, Cormac," Artemis breathed, squeezing his knob nearly too hard. "But you know, it’s usually less about who’s watching and more about the neighbours. I have manners." Maker knew poor Orana had walked in on and heard enough mortifying things. "Or do you plan to bring me out to some secluded part of the wilderness and have your way with me out there?" Which… sounded lovely, if a bit messy. He still doubted he could be as shameless as Cormac, but he could try, if that’s what his brother wanted. He picked at the laces to his trousers, moving perhaps a bit more than necessary in Cormac’s lap. "Tell me another story, brother-dear." He took his hand off Cormac’s knob long enough to push his pants down past his hips.
"Out in the wilderness? I thought you didn’t like all the dirt out there… But, you know, if you like, I’m sure we could find someplace quiet. Like the cellars. Yours or mine. There’s always the room no one’s using in my cellar. The one we offered to Fenris? I turned it into something else. You can’t tell it has doors, any more. They look like any other part of the wall. I put it in, in case of templars. If they can’t find us, they’ll assume we ran. Buy us a couple of days, at least, to get out properly and conveniently. Point is, there’s no one to hear you, down there. Nobody’s going to walk in accidentally. I suppose Bethany technically could, but if she did, we’d have much bigger problems than your pants being around your ankles. Also solid enough that you don’t have to worry about the wine cellar, and in that kind of ground, you probably won’t even wake up Anders." Cormac wrapped his hand around Artie’s knob, stroking firmly and slowly, with the faintest hint of electricity. "Assuming, of course, you didn’t want Anders watching us."
Cormac kept his hand moving as he ground against his brother with one less layer of cloth in the way. "More stories? Mmm. What about — no, not that one. Hm." He’d almost suggested a story about Anders, but he couldn’t find it in himself to talk about those early nights, in the back of the clinic. The times Anders had called him the wrong name, and then kicked him out. But, he’d just kept coming back. Still, there was one… "How about the first time I convinced Anders to give me the flagpole, hmm? You want to hear about your big brother getting rammed too full to breathe?"
Artemis pulled back enough to see Cormac’s face, to read the look in his eyes as he mentioned Anders. He tried not to let his concern show and didn’t stop moving, rutting up into Cormac’s hand, his own hand still moving, fingertips crackling now with electricity and following his brother’s lead. Despite his concern, for Cormac and for Anders, Artemis loved the thought of talking about someone they’d each been with, someone they’d shared. "Tell me," he said, a bit breathlessly.
Squeezing Artemis’s knob just a bit tighter, Cormac circled his thumb around the tip, electric sparkles flickering from his skin. "I got him drunk. Justice didn’t like it, but about once a week, I’d get him drunk. Always in the middle of the night. Always whatever fuckawful bilge the Hanged Man was passing off as liquor. And I never brought liquor, if I couldn’t bring food. I’d feed you and mum, and then I’d feed Anders. I knew Anton could take care of the rest of the family — but enough of that."
Cormac’s eyes squeezed shut as he re-focused, enjoying the feel of Artie squirming in his lap. "I was there almost every night, for a while. You remember. But, that night, I did him like he loves to be done, slow and hard. I remember he’d always lay on his side, wanted me to take him from behind, while he sucked on my fingers or I rubbed his belly. We were always half-dressed. Never knew when someone might walk in — it was Darktown. No doors, just curtains. I got him to go twice, before I fell to the charms of his lovely body. He was thinner, then. I was always so afraid I’d break him." Cormac laughed. "You know he throws me around, now, like I weigh nothing. Soon, I’m not going to be ‘the mage with the nice shoulders’, any more."
"But, twice. And I knew it wasn’t enough. Couldn’t be enough. Not my first Warden, but I don’t think you were there, for that. Or maybe you were. But, I knew he wasn’t done. And I knew he was going to lie there and keep stroking himself off, while we talked, because that was how that worked. And every time, I’d offer, and every time he’d turn me down. Never a reason, just ‘no’. I didn’t ask. Wasn’t my business. Until that night." He kissed Artie’s neck, nibbling at the pulse points, as he tried to remember how to tell the story around all the ugly parts — he’d forgotten how much of that time was full of fighting and sickness and the echoes of people who hadn’t made it out. Artie had been there for it, too. He didn’t need the reminder. After a long lick behind Artie’s ear, Cormac went on. "He told me the whole story about the flagpole, which I’m sure you’ve heard, with the Wardens and the flag and the roof… And he told me he wasn’t drunk enough to do that to me, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be that drunk again. Of course, me. I took that as a challenge. Told him he wouldn’t be my first Warden, which he knew, but … he’s missing a lot of little things, around then. Told him how much I ached to be hurt, how much I loved waking up still raw — thought I went too far, when he got quiet for a bit. Couldn’t see his face. Somehow I talked him into it."
"Grease, and his hands… But, you know. I was so slick and loose, when he finally let me slide down his pole — wasn’t really what I wanted, but it was a step forward. Maker’s balls, Artie, I’d never felt anything like it. I’d had bigger, but only from Isabela, and those were cold and … you know the difference. But, he was thick and warm, and I could feel his pulse. Nobody’s ever fit inside me the way he does. It’s like his knob was cast from my ass, and I could feel it right from the first time I had him in me — part of why I have the marble flagpole, so that when he leaves me, I won’t be left without." Not if, when. They’d never approached this as anything but temporary. All things ended, in their time, and only fools insisted otherwise. Anders had somewhere else to be, even if he wasn’t sure where it was, yet, and Cormac had known that from the start. "But, I rode him, until I couldn’t make my legs move, and begged until he rolled us over and kept going. It was the first time he’d heard me get that loud, but it was so good, I couldn’t help myself, even if the room did echo like an amphitheatre. All of Darktown knew he got some, that night. But, once he knew I meant it — once he could tell how much I wanted it — he just had me, hard and rough and desperate, like he was making up for all the time without. Hour after hour of it, and I screamed for him all night — more, harder, deeper." In all honesty, Anders had fucked him like a man possessed, like a man trying to chase his demons out with the pounding of someone else’s pulse. And that was something Cormac had been terribly familiar with, at the time.