[ Master Post ]
Title: Rhapsody In Ass Major – Chapter 159
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Cormac Hawke ♂, Artemis Hawke ♂
Rating: M (L2 N3 S3 V0 D0)
Warnings: Hot Hawke-on-Hawke action, Cormac loses his mind
Notes: Fenris comes home to two naked Hawkes in the guest room.
Cormac tucked Artemis’s hair behind his ear, with one more awed and longing smile, before he hefted Artie onto his hip, with a smirk. "Put your legs around me, so I don’t trip on them."
"You’re lucky I’ve got such nice shoulders," he muttered, opening the door with one hand, as he held Artemis up with the other arm.
"You know why I’m older?" Cormac asked, stepping out into the hall. "It’s so I’d be there, waiting for you. So I’d be there before you wanted or needed anything. So I’d be ready to look after you — and I’ve done kind of a shit job of that, but it’s not like being your high priest came with an instruction manual, which, you being you and all, it should’ve." Turning his head, he kissed Artemis thoroughly, before gently setting him on the bed and kneeling on the floor, between his feet.
"I think being me should have come with an instruction manual," Artemis replied with a wry chuckle, sliding his fingers into Cormac’s hair, combing back the wet locks. "And you haven’t done a shit job of it. I’m here, aren’t I?" He still wasn’t quite sure what to do with the adoring look in Cormac’s eyes, but he smiled back because Cormac said he liked seeing him smile. "Not dead. Reasonably happy. Those are both good things, last I checked." Even if a part of him kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"Not dead is kind of the minimum expectation," Cormac pointed out, muffling a laugh against Artemis’s thigh. "Oh, shit, my hair. I got my hair wet." He tipped his head back and ran his hands through it, casting, as his fingers worked through the damp tangles. "All these years, and Anders has never seen my hair dry itself. I don’t think he even realises it’s not actually straight." It would be dry, straight, and slightly oily, when he was done with it, though. After so many years, it only took a minute or two to cast the spells to make his hair do what he wanted it to, instead of what it thought it should do.
Snickering, Artemis sank his hands in Cormac’s hair again once he was done, finger sliding through silky strands. "You should let him see it, just once," he said. "It’s… an experience. You know, Anton and I used to make bets on who could fit the most coins in your hair before you’d notice. Makes me glad I take after Mum in that area." Artie bent to press a kiss to Cormac’s forehead, to the bridge of his nose, legs wrapping around him and pulling him closer.
"‘An experience’. It’s my hair, you little shit. And that’s exactly why he doesn’t get to see it." Cormac stood up, letting the motion knock Artie back onto the bed. He knelt on the edge of the bed, leaning forward, and pulling Artie with him, until they were both squarely on it. "And that was it, wasn’t it. Dad did my hair and you couldn’t tell the two of us apart, you and me. We were like twins. And then you got pretty and tall, and I got bulky and dark."
He stole a kiss and sat back, still between Artemis’s legs, bending one of them to take a foot in his hands. And then came the trickle of thumb presses and electricity tricks he’d learnt from Anders. This was one of those occasions where he’d bring out all the tricks. And, yes, Fenris would probably kill him, in the morning, but the night would be worthwhile.
Artemis let out a pleased hum, his toes pointing at every shiver of electricity. He remembered Anders touching him in a similar way, knew Cormac must have picked this up from him, like Fenris had. "Which one of us is being spoiled again?" he murmured, lips quirking up, eyes lidded. He touched Cormac’s leg with one finger and sent a spark of his own through it.
"Me," Cormac purred, knees drifting out as the spark shot up his thigh. "Absolutely me." His hands worked up along Artie’s leg, loosening the muscles. "If I turn you into a very attractive pool of goo, am I going to get stuck doing all the work?" he teased. "Not that I mind, but I like to plan a few steps ahead, at times like these. I don’t need you to get rough with me, tonight. If you want to, I’m absolutely for it, but… I just need you."
"You have me." Artie arched up to press another lingering kiss to Cormac’s lips. "And this incredibly sexy future puddle is at your whim. How do you want me, hmm?" Artemis’s hands trailed over Cormac’s chest, his shoulders, his arms, mapping out the muscles there, outlining their shapes in sparks of lightning. He would even bleed his brother tonight, if it were asked of him. "Anything, and it’s yours." And he knew better than to make promises like that, but that didn’t stop him.
Cormac looked away, hands working their way up Artie’s other leg. "Just some sappy shit, I don’t know. Anders tells me I’m turning into a sylvan in my old age. Not that he gets to talk about being old." Cormac laughed and shook his head, still not looking at his brother. His fingers worked into the muscles of Artie’s thigh. "Just keep up with me, hmm? And if you hate it, whatever it turns out to be, just tell me, or I’m probably going to do it again." He knew what he wanted, but he wasn’t drunk enough to ask.
Artemis hooked a finger under Cormac’s chin, tilted his face up to look at him. He waited until Cormac was looking at him before he said again, "Anything." His thumb traced Cormac’s lower lip. Legs and arms pulled Cormac closer, winding loosely around him until they were practically one creature with eight tangled limbs. "I love you," he purred against his brother’s ear, nuzzling Cormac’s cheek. "You know that, don’t you?"
"Yeah," Cormac breathed, finally, rolling over and pulling Artemis onto him. "Yeah, I know. Sometimes, I just get stupid. I don’t forget it, but I forget what it means." He sighed and kneaded Artie’s back, electricity and a bit of grease following his fingers. "You. Just you. You know that? I might make questionable tactical decisions, sometimes, but I always think of you, first. That fucking ogre. I couldn’t get that many shields up, that fast, but I could get in the way. I just didn’t want to see you hit it, and not hit it hard enough. I knew Bethy could get it, but she’s slow. You’re not. And if you hit it and didn’t take it out in one, it was going to kill you, and that was the only thing in my mind, when I went charging in there like the stupid git I am. You were the important one. You mattered most. And you still do." Cormac’s hands finally met his brother’s ass, and the kneading continued, unabated.
"You are a stupid git," Artemis said, both fond and exasperated. His hips rocked in time to Cormac’s kneading hands. "You know if anything had happened to you, I wouldn’t have forgiven you? ‘Punched to death by an ogre’, that would have been your memorial, and I would have let Anton pee on it." His hands framed Cormac’s face, thumbs stroking tattooed cheeks. "If anything ever happened to you, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself."
Another lazy, lingering kiss, and the press of Artie’s hips grew more insistent. He traced one sparking hand down Cormac’s side to squeeze at his hip. "I want you," he murmured against Cormac’s lips.
Cormac’s legs wrapped around his brother’s sides. "Take me," he breathed, before he could say anything else, before he could think twice about it, before he could decide he was asking for too much. This was what he wanted. He wanted to be wanted, more than anything, in that moment, and as a close second, he wanted Artemis inside him. It was terrible and selfish, and as far as he could tell, not at all what Artie usually liked — at least not from him — and if that didn’t just make him the shittiest freshly-named high priest ever to take up the standard of a god, he wasn’t entirely sure what would. But, Artie had said ‘anything’, and this was…
He tried to convince himself the doubt was because of Anders. Anders had talked him into it, and then he’d talked Anders back into it, and then… Well, this definitely wasn’t Anders he was in bed with, now. Bad decisions. He was a master of those, and this would be another one.
But Artemis had been waiting for him to ask, and while he did prefer things the other way, this wasn’t about him tonight, not really. Artie took Cormac by the chin, tipped his head back and to the side to nip at his throat. "Anything," Artie sighed, a third time. He slid his palms along Cormac’s thighs, then down and around to squeeze his ass as he ground down into his brother. "Your god is happy to oblige." Still nuzzling and licking the line of Cormac’s throat, Artemis pulled one hand free to reach between them, teasing over his brother’s knob before reaching lower, one finger circling his entrance before pushing in.
"Grease?" he asked, just in case, as he took his time stroking Cormac’s insides. He knew his brother usually liked it rough, but tonight seemed different. Tonight he seemed to be hurting enough.
With a quiet laugh. Cormac almost dismissed the idea. "This is— Oh. For you." He slipped a hand between them and wrapped it around Artie’s knob, casting as he stroked it. "Don’t want to do anything as, ah, painful as last time." Not that Cormac couldn’t heal little tears like that, just that he didn’t really want to do anything that was going to mean he’d have to. Hurting Artemis was the last thing he’d meant to do, even then.
"Does that elf tell you how wonderful your hands are?" he asked, writhing at the touch against his insides. "Because your hands are amazing. Your fingers feel so good."
Artemis grinned against Cormac’s collarbone, arching into his brother’s touch. "Oh, he does," he purred between bites, a tease of teeth against his brother’s shoulder. "You should hear the noises he makes when I touch him like this." He curled his fingers in a way he knew Fenris liked, twisting until he wrung a similar reaction from Cormac. "Right here. Or when I do like this." Artie sent a jolt through his fingers, then another, stroking little pulses of electricity into Cormac. "We spent a whole night like this once, just my fingers inside him. He almost shook the bed as much as I do."
It took Cormac a very long time to manage a sentence, beyond the stream of little pleas for more. His head tipped back, baring his neck even further, as he squirmed and pushed back against those fingers, his own hand still stroking slickly over his brother’s knob.
Fenris could hear the sounds, as he came upstairs. Cormac was never quiet, even if this was much quieter than he’d usually known the man to be, but he knew that voice. He checked his and Artemis’s room, first, and was relieved to find it in the state he’d left it — empty of extraneous mages. The sound let him pick a direction, and he found the right room, easily, as they’d left the door open. Artemis must have sent Orana home, for the night. That, or they were both extremely drunk. He waited, in the doorway, for some sign of what he was meant to do with this situation.
Artemis was too caught up in Cormac’s touch, in the delicious sounds Cormac was making in his ear, to see Fenris in the doorway. He took his time teasing his brother, purring in reply to every plea he made. "I love the sounds you make," he said. "And this just from my fingers." Another jolt, and Artemis slid his fingers free, guiding his knob to Cormac’s entrance in their place. He took a moment just to tease with the tip before pressing in, agonisingly slowly. Artie groaned against Cormac’s neck, eyes fluttering shut.
Fenris swallowed, shifting in the doorway, wondering if he should stay, if he should draw attention to himself or leave the brothers to it. The line of Artemis’s spine and the curve of his ass were distracting from this angle.
"Oh, Artemis, yes!" Cormac expected to go on, pleasure obvious in the pleas for absurd and obscene things that poured out of his mouth, but his breath caught, and he wrapped his arms around his brother, holding him tight. His breathing was sharp and ragged, for a bit, against Artie’s neck. "Love you," he choked out. "I love you so much."
The absurdity of the entire situation struck him, suddenly, and Cormac almost wished he’d just had a few drinks and gone to bed. But, for as stupid and crazy as this had gotten, Artemis hadn’t stopped him, hadn’t discouraged him, hadn’t — well, no, he’d laughed, but not in a bad way. He wondered, for one insane moment, if he hadn’t been wrong to compare his brother to Andraste. Perhaps it was more correct to say he was the disciple, here, and Artemis the loving god-husband. But, that wasn’t right, either, unless the Maker had also had someone else, as well. Was he really thinking about this? He was really thinking about this, with tears running down his cheeks, and his brother’s knob in his ass.
A hysterical giggle slipped out as he came to the conclusion that the Maker was actually cheating on Shartan with Andraste. That or it was a very, very open relationship.
Artemis heard the hitch in his breath, tasted the salt of tears when he turned to kiss Cormac’s cheek. He pulled back to look at Cormac, concern furrowing his brow. "I’m here," he murmured, his hands gentle against Cormac’s hair, against his cheeks. He wiped away the tears he found there with his thumbs, bent to kiss away the next tears that fell. "It’s all right," he whispered, over and over, and hoped he wasn’t lying. "Cormac?"
Fenris frowned at the scene in front of him, brows knitting. This wasn’t what he expected to find or what he’d come to expect from Cormac. He had the sense he was intruding, even though this was his home, his fiancé, and he backed as quietly out of the room as he’d entered it. Fenris would leave them to it for now and ask Artemis about it later.
"Sorry." Cormac choked on a laugh. "I, ah… this isn’t very sexy, is it." He took a few deep breaths and gently stroked Artemis’s back. "I’m just losing my mind. Don’t worry about it. It’s not that important. Probably won’t even notice it’s gone."