Sep 202015
 

[ Master Post ]
Title: Rhapsody in Ass Major – Chapter 200
Co-Conspirator: TumblrMaverikLoki
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Fenris , Anders , Gytha
Rating: M (L2 N3 S0 V0 D0)
Warnings: A dildo shop, some pantslessness, dick jokes
Notes: Fenris makes a foolish decision, in the name of love, and Anders is happy to help him do it.


When Fenris had barged into the clinic and grabbed Anders’s wrist with a muttered, "Quickly," Anders had assumed the worst. The lack of blood on Fenris’s hands had, at least, indicated that he hadn’t killed Cormac yet, but it wasn’t until they were in Lowtown and Fenris was muttering about ‘wedding presents’ and the ‘stonecarver’ that Anders had realised no one was dead or dying.

But now, watching the look on Fenris’s face, Anders had to wonder if the elf was going to survive this. Anders sidled up to him, folded his hands behind his back, and stared at the wall Fenris was staring at. "So welcome to the stonecarver’s," Anders chirped. "Is it about what you expected?"

A strangled sound caught in Fenris’s throat, his ears twitching at awkward angles. "There… is a whole wall. Of them. A wallful." Fenris drew in a breath. "A wallful of knobs."

And not the kind of knobs that went on a door (unless that door was Isabela’s). Jutting out from the wall were rows upon walls of stone dildoes of every size, shape, and girth imaginable, all neatly presented and neatly labelled. He stood nose-to-knob with one that bore a suspicious resemblance to the Jade Wand of Ass-destruction.

Anders reached over to squeeze one spiky shoulder, half-expecting Fenris to bite off that hand. "Oh, Broody," he said. "We’re barely in the door."

"Well! If it’s not the Pillar of Passion!" a dwarven woman called out from the back of the shop, wiping powdered stone off her hands as she tugged the damp cloth off her mouth and nose, revealing a series of black bars from her cheeks to her jaw.

"Gytha, my dear!" Anders spread his arms, before dropping a hand heavily onto Fenris’s shoulder. "I’m afraid it’s just business this time."

"Just business, he says, as if it’s ever anything else!" Gytha laughed and stepped around the counter that divided the front of the shop from the work area. She squinted at Fenris. "Those are some nice tattoos!"

Fenris shifted his weight, awkwardly. "They could be, under other circumstances, I’m sure."

"They’re like yours, Gytha," Anders pointed out.

"But, at least his are fashionable!" Gytha laughed and patted Anders’s elbow. "What can I do for you this time? Something exciting for that handsome slab you keep bringing around?"

"Something a little more specialised, this time. Can you do lyrium etching, or am I going to need to get my own engraver for that?" Anders asked.

"Lyrium? That’s not something you want to put too close to any of the insertable parts. What are you thinking, engraving the rune straight into it?" Gytha rubbed her chin, contemplatively.

Fenris realised he was still staring at the wall of knobs and dropped his stare to his feet instead. He tugged at one ear, trying to get it to hold still.

"Well," Anders explained, cutting a glance at the elf next to him, "let me put it this way. These tattoos of his you were admiring? Lyrium. We’re looking to make a replica for his, er, fiancé."

Gytha’s eyes widened, eyebrows shooting towards her hairline, and Fenris rolled his eyes up to stare uncomfortably at the ceiling instead. The Jade Wand’s twin still poked out at him in the periphery of his vision.

"Specialised," said Gytha, nodding her head slowly. She eyed Fenris up and down, stare lingering a beat too long at crotch-level, and Fenris fought not to squirm. "Right."

"Perhaps this was a foolish idea," Fenris murmured.

"Of course it’s a foolish idea!" Anders assured him. "But, think of the look on his face, when he realises he’s got two of you!"

"One of me should be more than enough for anyone." Fenris twisted the tip of his ear and finally looked at the dwarf before him. "What must I do?"

"Well, the very first thing we’re going to have to do is get you into a state. A state a bit different to the nervous one you seem to be in. I’m assuming Anders can help you with that? He’s got some unusual talents." Gytha winked at Anders.

"I’d have brought a potion, but the way you rushed me out the door, I thought it was serious," Anders sighed. "But, yes, it’s a problem I can solve, if I have to."

Fenris’s ears twitched at the thought, but he knew Anders was right.

"And then you get to lie down a bit, while I take some measurements and make a wax mould. And then a bit of sketching, and then you get to go home, and come back in a couple of days." Gytha shrugged and smiled. "It’s very simple, and it’ll be even easier, because you’re an elf. You should have seen me trying to get a mould from that hairy slab he goes around with. Man’s got enough on him to be a dwarf, if he wasn’t so tall."

"Yes, I am familiar with the… slab," Fenris said, expression pained. And that was a thought that wasn’t going to help him get into a ‘state’, at least not the state he wanted to be in.

Anders patted Fenris’s shoulder. "Just think of the slab’s brother," he said, "who is… less of a slab and more of a pillar. More like a tree, really, though less sappy than Cormac."

"Stop mentioning Cormac," Fenris muttered.

"Right. Let’s get you in back." Gytha tilted her head behind her. "That way Anders can work his magic, and then I can work mine." She winked and gestured for them to follow her.

Fenris sucked in a breath. "This is definitely a foolish idea," he muttered even as he followed.

Gytha led them to a screened-off part of the room, with an odd, low table in it, along with a workbench full of supplies, including a small pot of warmed wax. "I’ll let you two do what you need to. Just call me when you’re ready," she said, pressing a small leather strap into Anders’s hand, before she left them, pulling the folding screen closed.

Anders rubbed the back of his neck and gestured to the table. "You should probably at least sit down. I can do this the easy way, if you want. Oh, and you probably want to have your pants down a bit."

"One assumes," Fenris agreed, studying the table. "How does this work?"

"Oh, you lie on it, face down, with your hips over the hole, and the pad up top holds your forehead, so you can still talk and breathe without throwing off the measurements. And that box goes over your knob and gets filled up with wax. It’s kind of soothing, actually. Doesn’t take even an hour." Anders talked about the process casually, as if it were no more strange than learning to fry an egg.

"An hour? You expect me to be able to maintain that… state for an hour?" Fenris’s eyebrows rose. "I am no Warden."

"That’s what this is for." Anders held up the strap.

"Every time you open your mouth, this idea gets more and more foolish," Fenris muttered, picking at the knots on his trousers.

"And yet, the idea was yours," Anders said with a small smile. "And it will be worth it. Trust me."

The glare Fenris sent Anders said what he thought of trusting the mage. The look would have been more intimidating if he weren’t working his leggings down his hips. Once his trousers were off, Fenris picked them up with his toes and set them off to the side. He considered pausing to fold them, only to remember that Artemis wasn’t here.

Fenris sat on the table, aware of the cool air on his legs and… bits. Anders watched, sucking his lips between his teeth and scratching his forehead with a thumbnail.

"Your ears are vibrating, you know," Anders said. Fenris replied with a growl, and Anders chuckled. "Yeah, I take it you know. Relax. You know it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. It’s not even something I haven’t touched before, on multiple occasions."

"If the talking is meant to help with this," Fenris cut him off, gesturing at his groin, "it isn’t."

Anders snorted. "Right." He touched a spark to Fenris’s knee, and the elf’s breath hitched. "How about this?"

Fenris waved a hand, gesturing for Anders to keep going. The electricity would work, whether he wanted it to or not, he knew, and right now, he definitely wanted it to work. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and thought of Artemis, as Anders’s hands caressed his thighs, stroking current into his body. It wasn’t the same — it wasn’t the same at all — but, he could pretend. He could imagine Artemis’s hands on him, that very different spark wending through his flesh, Artemis’s pretty blue eyes blinking up at him, from between his knees. Ah, that was a thought he liked.

It didn’t take long at all — in fact, it was so easy that Anders reflected he’d still have been working on Cormac, and given how easy it was to turn Cormac on… He reached up and closed the strap around the base of Fenris’s knob, the elf’s eyes snapping open at the touch, and glaring down confusedly at him for a moment.

"That feels tight," Fenris remarked, getting used to the sensation.

"It should. It’ll keep you… upright." Anders pulled the screen open. "You should lie down, and I’ll get Gytha."

As the screen fell closed behind Anders, Fenris shook his head, reminding himself where he was and how he’d gotten here, how absurd this all was. He wondered who came up with the whole system and decided he rather didn’t want to know. He hoisted himself up on the table as instructed, though he disliked leaving his back exposed and his head down in a strange place. A strange place with only one exit and his sword out of reach. And this had been his idea.

"Venhedis," Fenris mumbled at himself and the empty room. He wriggled until he was comfortable, or at least as comfortable as he was going to be with a strap around his knob.

He peered up when the screen pulled back again, and watched Anders hold the curtain for Gytha as she ducked into the room.

Gytha waved her callipers as she crossed the room, pulling up a short stool, beside the table. "Won’t take but a minute, here, and we’ll get you in the wax," she said sitting down and patting Fenris’s hip. Your fiancé’s going to be a terribly lucky one, aren’t they."

Fenris twitched when the cold metal touched him, but he managed to hold himself still against the creeping memories — memories he didn’t have, he reminded himself — by thinking of Artemis. He could envision the surprise, already, the way those big, blue eyes would widen and then scrunch up as Artie smiled.

"And we’re done with that!" Gytha stood up with a sheet of measurements and a sketch of the pattern of the lyrium. She set her tools aside and took down a box that she snapped together in the space beneath Fenris’s hips. He felt nothing until she began to pour in the wax, which was soft and warm, but not hot against his skin. If he thought about it, it felt rather like— something he wasn’t going to think about with a strange dwarf pouring things onto his knob.

"How long?" Fenris asked again.

"Oh, about five inches." Gytha laughed. "Less than an hour. I’ll be back to check on you, and then we’ll get that cut off you so I can get to work."

"Cut?" Fenris squeaked, as Gytha ducked out.

"Split, really," Anders said, pulling the stool out a bit and sitting down. He was much too tall, and wound up with his legs stretched out as he leaned back against a leg of the table. "Put a line in the wax and chase it in. Don’t worry. The only scar I have, there, isn’t from this."

"Very reassuring," Fenris grumbled. He stared at the floor, aware in the silence of the space between breaths, the speed of his heartbeat. When he found himself counting both, he knew this was going to be a long ‘less-than-an-hour’. "I should have brought a book."

"Mm, I could make up stories, if you like," Anders said, crossing his ankles. "Much more fun than reading. Now, how to start…"

"I doubt I wish to hear any stories you come up with, mage," Fenris sighed. Anders’s voice floated over his head.

"Just for that, this story is about a broody elf with a glowstick for a knob…"

"Mage," Fenris growled.

"Did I mention you can’t move for this hour? Or less than, however long it is. Anyway, what shall we call this elf in this story?"

"I know what we can call the mage," came the dry reply.

"The elf is Tevinter so he needs a name in Tevene. Asinus. We’ll call this elf Asinus."

"And the narrator is Stultus," Fenris muttered. "You’re not going to blather for an hour, are you?"

"Shh, don’t interrupt. Now, once upon a time, there was a cranky elf named Asinus…"

"I hate you."