[ Master Post ]
Title: Rhapsody in Ass Major – Chapter 229
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Cormac Hawke ♂, Anders ♂, Artemis Hawke ♂, Fenris ♂
Rating: E (L3 N2 S4 V2 D0)
Warnings: Bloodplay, knifeplay, hot Hawke-on-Hawke action
Notes: Artemis finally gets to make his brother bleed for him.
Artemis winked at Cormac and led the others out into the garden. It looked less like a warzone than it had, and patches of grass Anders had last seen on fire had been filled back in and saplings had been planted in the sparser areas. Artie gestured at them and shrugged. "Not as… neat as it was," he muttered, one hand twisting in his hair, "but there it is. The pond still looks nice."
Which is where Artie led them next. Anders and Fenris pointedly did not look at each other, remembering the last time it had been just the four of them around, and in, the pond.
"The pond looks lovely." Cormac stopped and took his brother’s face in his hands. "There was a war, here. An invasion. The entire garden looks lovely, now. You can hardly tell."
Anders glanced around, nodding. "It’s definitely attractive, even if it looks a little less dense than before." His eyes lit on the chain hanging from one tree. "Is that a— It is, isn’t it. You’ve put in a sling." He turned around, slowly, eyeing the rest of the garden. "Good angle, if I’m reading that right. You’d be able to see at least three other points of interest, from there."
"What are you talking about?" Cormac asked, squinting at the tree, and then back at Anders.
"The chain. I’m pretty sure that’s the release for a sling. I knew some girls in Denerim who had one like that. You pull it and the box opens and drops it down." Anders grinned at Artemis. "Am I right, or are you just using the chain as something for the roses to climb?"
Artemis coughed into his fist, cheeks and ears flaring red. He could deny it, he supposed, but he doubted they’d believe him. "That… is not a bad assumption. In fact, it is possibly the correct assumption."
"His idea," Fenris assured Anders and Cormac, pulling an ear with one hand and pointing at his husband with the other. As if there were any doubt, regardless. "I am… generally not a fan of anything Tevinter, especially of late, but… well. Artemis has convinced me of its merits."
"There are a few good things of Tevinter make," Anders said with a smile and a pointed look at Fenris.
"So, where would you like the mage-shaped green-patch in your garden?" Cormac asked, eyeing a couple of spots. "Dad used to say blood made the grass grow." And, in Lothering, he’d taken the time to prove the point, fertilising their mother’s vegetable garden with waste from the annual sheep-slaughtering. It was a lot less foul, once it was worked into the dirt.
"That’s true?" Anders sounded a little horrified. "I always thought that was some kind of superstitious bullshit."
"Of course it’s true." Cormac squinted up at Anders, shimmying out of his robes. "If shit makes the grass grow, why wouldn’t blood?" He stood naked, but for the chastity belt, folding his robes.
"Ah, we should have you over more often then, to help fertilise the gardens," Artemis replied, eyeing Cormac appreciatively (and trying not to laugh at the chastity belt). His smile slipped as he added, "With blood. Because you like bleeding. Not… with shit."
"I think they understood that, Amatus," Fenris assured his husband. He pulled Artemis to him by the hem of his tunic, kissing under his mage’s chin as his hands slipped under the fabric. "There is a spot there, by the tree, that could use some… fertilising, if that is your goal." Fenris darted a look in that direction. "It is looking a bit sparse."
Artemis frowned distractedly as he pulled his tunic over his head. "It is, isn’t it."
"It looks fine, Amatus. I was joking."
Cormac nodded and spread himself beneath the tree, looking up at the sunlight, through the branches. "Do you remember when we used to go down to the river and lie under the trees? And you kept trying to get quince to fall on my head?"
"Artemis," Anders sighed, tilting a knife into his hand from the sheath across his lower back, "don’t throw fruit at your brother."
"I’m going to second that. Throwing fruit at me would not be sexy." Propping himself on his elbows, Cormac glanced around again. "Do you even have fruit trees, out here? I don’t think you do…"
"Now you’re making wish I’d put in some fruit trees," Artemis replied with an exaggerated sigh. "Maybe not quinces, though. I prefer apples."
"Please do not waste apples by throwing them at your brother," Fenris said in much the same tone as Anders. "Tarts. That’s what apples should be used for." He paused, catching Anders’s smirk. "Not that kind of tart."
"Pies?" Anders suggested.
"Spoilsports, the lot of you," Artie huffed. He knelt down next to Cormac, leaning over him and resting his weight on his palms. He clicked his teeth in front of Cormac’s nose and grinned down at him. "Comfortable?"
"Absolutely not." Cormac grinned up. "This thing’s got my sausage and eggs in a death grip. Which I’m hoping to mind a whole lot less in a minute or two." He paused and looked up at Anders. "You going to open me up, or are you going to let Artie do it?"
Anders crouched on Cormac’s other side, offering the handle of the knife to Artemis. "It’s very sharp. Don’t push hard. You want it to bleed, but you don’t want the skin to pull apart."
"Listen to Anders. He knows what he’s doing, and he’ll stop you from doing anything I’ll regret, later." Cormac laughed, looking up at Anders fondly. "I’m so lucky to have found you."
"Everyone needs their very own sewer apostate," Anders scoffed, flicking Cormac in the nose with his other hand.
Fenris leaned against the tree, eyeing the knife and the three mages. He was still less than thrilled with the image of a mage bleeding himself and all the associations that came with it, but he’d gotten used to Cormac’s… proclivities.
Artemis took the knife from Anders, hoping his uncertainty didn’t show on his face. If this was what Cormac wanted, he would do it, certainly, but… "Now, when you say, ‘don’t push too hard’, define ‘too hard’." He didn’t want to hurt Cormac. Well. Not in a way he didn’t want to be hurt, anyway. Images of him going too far, of Cormac bleeding too much, played out in the back of his mind.
"Don’t overthink it," Anders said gently. "Just take it slow. I’ll let you know if you’re going too far." Which was highly unlikely, considering what he and Cormac usually got up to.
Cormac watched the two men talking over him with open lust in his eyes. He wanted this. He hadn’t woken up this morning wanting this, or even particularly anticipating it, but he hadn’t been expecting to wake up in a chastity belt, either. As the blade touched his skin, hesitantly, at first, he wondered if Anders was right — if this would be enough, by itself.
"Just feel it," he told Artie. "You’ll know. You’ll feel it in your hand, when you—" The rest of the words stopped in a sharp gasp as the blade bit into his skin, briefly. A tiny cut, but one that made his toes curl. "Yes," he sighed, "just like that."
Cormac’s hand drifted down, meaning to stroke his knob, but it met metal. Of course. He still squeezed the steel where it passed between his legs, taking some comfort in the grip, if nothing else.
Artie watched Cormac’s face, felt the muscles shift under his hand. He remembered Cormac making a similar face for Gantry all those years ago and remembered how badly he’d wanted to be the one to put it there… even if he would have preferred other methods.
"Like this?" Artemis asked, waiting until his hand was steady enough to cut again, blade pressing, dragging over skin before biting into it. And it was simple, once he got the hang of it, once he saw just how badly Cormac wanted it.
"Please," Cormac begged, voice tight, but much louder than it had been. He tried so hard not to squirm — after that time he’d had to tell their dad he’d had an accident with a pitchfork, he’d made an effort to control that driving need to writhe.
"I do not understand this," Fenris said, just loud enough for Anders to hear him. The entire idea — not just potential blood magic, but the desire to be harmed — still bothered him, in so many ways. Artemis was simpler for him to understand — that was a matter of control, and he understood how much Artemis feared not being controlled, whether by himself or someone else, feared the damage he could do. He had a certain amount of respect for that, really, even when it went far beyond a rational concern and bled into their bedroom. But, this… This unsettled him, deeply. This wasn’t just something reasonable that had gone too far.
"Neither do I," Anders said, smiling up at Fenris, as Cormac howled and dug his heels into the ground, beneath the blade. "But, he wants it."
Artemis didn’t understand it either, but in that moment, he didn’t care. He stroked a hand down Cormac’s stomach, felt taut muscles trembling as his brother fought to hold still. Blood flowed in fine trails, and Artie tried not to think of the mess he was making. Cormac’s howling was a good distraction. More than a distraction. An inspiration. Even with the blood and potential mess, Artie’s trousers were getting uncomfortably tight.
Artie bent to kiss Cormac between shouts. "You’re gorgeous," he murmured. With a fond smile, he added, "Insane, but gorgeous. Perhaps insanely gorgeous?"
"Just insane," Fenris muttered under his breath.
"I’m the gorgeous one, here," Anders joked, eyes never leaving Cormac’s chest. He could tell, when the knife was in his hand, just from the pressure and the tension of the stroke, but watching someone else do this was going to give him grey hair, he was sure. Still, just the sound of Cormac’s voice, begging for more, made that worthwhile.
Cormac caught his breath, between cuts, little half-whimpering pants that finally gave way to words. "Is this what you wanted, when you saw me with Gantry? Do I look as good, up close, as I did from across the barn?" Biting his lip, he arched, while the blade was off his skin, eyes rolling back, before he settled again. Not there, but definitely getting there. "I wish I wasn’t in this … thing. I wish you could fuck me while I scream for you. I should be able to give you that, but…"
"Then we’ll just have to do this again, won’t we?" Artemis purred. If it was something Cormac wanted that badly, it was worth it. More than worth it. "Well. This minus the chastity belt." He teased the tip of the knife along the edge where steel met skin. "That must be painful, by now."
Artemis paused between slices, between Cormac’s shouts, to loosen the ties to his trousers. He wanted Cormac to touch him, but that didn’t seem fair, not, at least, until he’d managed to push Cormac over that edge. Artie carved more lines in Cormac’s flesh, letting his reactions guide him.
Anders watched them both, brushing hair out of Cormac’s face, when a breeze blew across the garden. He smiled up at Fenris, between cuts — Fenris, who still looked a bit green. "Later," Anders mouthed, and meant it. Later, they’d talk about this, and how strange it was — how strange all of it was, really, but Hawkes. And he’d learnt that all of them were bizarre, each in their own way. Not, he supposed, that anything less could be said of himself.
Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, Cormac reached out and grabbed Artemis by the open front of his trousers, tugging sharply, as soon as the blade lifted again. "Come here," he demanded, moving his other hand out of the way. "I’m getting a crick in my neck with you over there."
Artemis let himself be manhandled. "Oof. I’m the one with the knife, and you’re the one making demands," he teased.
Cormac grinned up at his brother, who now straddled his hips. "You love it when I make demands."
"I also love when quinces fall on your head," Artie quipped, bending to bite Cormac’s chest, just hard enough to bruise. He ground down against his brother and that damnable contraption.
From this angle, Fenris could see less of the knife and the blood. That combined with the way Artie’s hips rocked made for a more pleasant image.
Blade pressed to skin again, and Artemis tried to keep his hips still so he could focus. "Would love to feel you inside me right now," he sighed. "We’ll add that to the list of things to do ‘later’."
Pressing his hand to his chest, Cormac scooped up some of his blood. The sounds from his mouth were constant, now, and between screams he whimpered and cursed, still pleading for more, as if he could no longer stop the pleasure from pouring out. He looked Artemis in the eye and wrapped his bloody hand around his brother’s knob, slowly stroking. "Come for me," he begged. "Give me that."
Anders hoped that wouldn’t take long, because blood was not going to be comfortable at all after a couple of minutes. His face paled and he looked away, just long enough not to look as shaken as he was. That wasn’t something he needed to be thinking about. Had nothing to do with what was happening, here. They wanted this — they both wanted this — aside, maybe, from the part where Artie was going to complain about the blood in his trousers, later. But, that wasn’t serious. That wasn’t— He was outside, and there was sunlight, and these were his friends.
Fenris caught his eye, and Anders just shrugged dismissively.
Artie didn’t have the heart to point out that he’d been trying not to get blood on him this whole time, and that this was the last place he wanted blood to be. He could clean it later, he told himself. This was for Cormac. "Not sure an earthquake with a knife in my hand is the best idea," he said, voice tight with pleasure as he rocked into Cormac’s hand anyway.
"Give it to Anders. He can make a few cuts, while I take care of you," Cormac panted, knowing he was going to need to wash before they got anywhere near Isabela, again. He could feel the blood rolling up over his shoulders into his hair, dripping down under his arms. But, none of that was important. His brother was important.
Anders held out his hand, debating flicking Cormac in one of the smaller gouges, but not really wanting to wear the spatter. He shoved up one of his sleeves.
Artemis relinquished the knife, relieved that that was no longer his responsibility. As Anders set to work, Artie focused on Cormac’s hand, on Cormac’s body beneath him, on the faces and sounds his brother was making. His spine curved and his eyes fell shut, small, appreciative sounds catching in his throat.
Fenris’s ears twitched at that sound. He smirked to himself, knowing he could bring Artemis over with a touch. But this was between the two of them.
After all these years, Anders had a certain mastery with the knife. His cuts were quick and sure, and a faint charge ran down the blade from his hand. Cormac’s screams were desperate and deafening, as he tried to keep his hands gentle for Artemis. His hips rolled, even as his upper back and shoulders stayed pressed to the ground. Cormac was beyond desire, out into pleas and demands, screaming and sobbing for more, as Anders thumbed the tears off his cheek between slices.
Fenris took a few deep breaths and watched Artemis, his eyes mostly away from the blood and the way Cormac’s face twisted in pain. Mages. Hawkes.