[ Master Post ]
Title: Rhapsody in Ass Major – Chapter 232
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Cormac Hawke ♂, Artemis Hawke ♂
Rating: M (L3 N2 S2 V0 D0)
Warnings: Hot Hawke-on-Hawke action
Notes: The (consensual) return of the chastity belt!
Anton hadn’t been home much, the last few days — between his usual games and trying once again to weasel back into Aveline’s good graces he managed to dodge Cormac entirely, until he left to head up the coast, for the weekend with Merrill and the twins. It wasn’t so much that he wanted to drag Carver along as that he needed a sword and Cullen really wanted Carver out of the Gallows for a few days, before anyone else got punched.
So, Cormac was left observing the chastity belt that Anton had stuck him in, totally unable to exact his vengeance upon his brother. For a moment, he considered heading down to see Isabela, and getting her to tell horrifying stories about Anders. He was sure she’d been holding some back, even after all this time — mostly because of the looks that passed between her and Anders, almost every time his name came out of her mouth. But, he wasn’t in a good position to leverage that, after the difficulties with the belt, earlier in the week.
For a moment, he was stumped. Stumped and bored, which was an unusual situation for a man of his abundant and bizarre interests. He picked up his quill and knocked off a quick column for the Gazette — more magical theory, just to put the idea of non-threatening magic to the general populace — but, he couldn’t stay with it. The maps tacked above his desk just irritated him. The documents Merrill had brought him looked fascinating, but… he couldn’t get his head around them. This had usually been the mood in which he went over the books and wrote angry letters to Hubert, but Hubert was out of the picture, and the mine was doing rather well. A few reports from Natia’s exploratory teams sat on the corner of his desk, but he’d skimmed them, and as interested as he’d be, later, he wasn’t, then.
First, Cormac tried a sandwich, but the sandwich didn’t solve the problem. He thought about playing in the yard with Sandal and the goat, but he just didn’t have the patience. Thinking he might talk Anders into a quick romp, he took a pot of tea downstairs, only to leave it beside the desk, when he found Justice writing faster than he could blot pages.
His brother, he decided. He’d go see Artemis, and he’d bring along that steel and leather artefact, now that it was no longer attached to his person, and they could have a good laugh and a few drinks. It really was well-made, with the joints outside the leather, to avoid catching skin unpleasantly. A tool for restraint, not torment. At least, not in itself. And maybe after a few drinks, he’d have a look through the library and see if he couldn’t find a spell for containing sound. There really wasn’t any reason for Anton to be hearing him, and if it had come to this, perhaps he’d make the effort. Not necessarily to use the spell, but to have it, just in case.
Artemis thumbed through the latest issue of the Gazette, hooking his legs over the arm of his favourite chair and munching on a pear as he read, careful to catch the juice in his palm. Page 6 had been uninspiring this week, something nauseating about a pair of coquettish noblewomen, with dialogue straight out of an Orlesian romance. Not one of the usual writers, by the cadence, and Artie had lost interest by the third line.
This article about the ‘Enigma of Kirkwall’, however… It put him in mind of a few things he’d heard Cormac mutter over his books and maps. Orana poked her head in the door, and Artemis dog-eared the corner of the page for later reference. "Orana," Artie said, pausing to lick pear juice off his lips. "Why don’t we hold off on dinner until Fenris is awake? I don’t want his food to get cold, and… that’s not why you popped in, is it?"
Orana smiled indulgently and stood aside to let Cormac stand in the doorway. "Visitor for you, messere," she said.
"Oh! Cormac." Artie set down the Gazette and unhooked his legs from the arm of the chair, only to frown down at the half-eaten pear and the juice it was dripping down his fingers.
"Are you having the day I’m having?" Cormac asked, nodding to Orana as he stepped around her and threw himself into a chair. "I’m having one of those days where nothing is wrong, but everything is terrible. Figured it was time to come visit my favourite brother." He set down the oddly-bulging bag he’d been carrying. "And I promised to bring you something, I believe. However good it might have looked on me, it feels like it’s a little more your style than mine."
"Would messere like something to drink?" Orana asked.
"For once, I’m not here to exploit my brother-in-law’s taste in wine," Cormac said, with a laugh, and Orana ducked out, with a smile. "Ladies on Page Six weren’t so great," Cormac pointed out, after a moment, nodding at the Gazette. "I think they picked up a new writer. I’m all in favour of naked noblewomen, but you’d think this person’s never heard a woman speak. You getting into that Mystery of Kirkwall series?" He knew damn well it was the ‘enigma’, but he also wasn’t going to admit to being the writer. That was how the Gazette worked. You didn’t tell anyone you wrote for it, and nobody knew who owned it, but there were a couple of places in town that manuscripts could be conveniently deposited for pickup.
"Was just catching up on it," Artemis said. "I wondered if you read it. Something about it reminded me of you and your theories. Seemed right up your alley." He took the last few bites of his pear, determined to finish it so he wouldn’t be left holding it. As he chewed he tilted his head at Cormac’s bag. "So what did you bring? You know I’m not a fan of robes, and as much as I enjoy getting into your pants, metaphorically, your literal pants would be swimming on me." He kept his voice pitched low just in case Orana was listening.
"Yeah, well… This was a beautiful fit for me, but I think it’s adjustable." Cormac tossed the bag to Artie, gently, the weight obvious in the way it arced out of his hand. "Besides, we’re mages. If you’re into it, I’ll make it fit." He hoped that was a valid offer, really, but he was relatively sure from the way the thing was assembled that some of the metal could be removed. He just hoped that wouldn’t make the leather more uncomfortable.
Artemis peered into the bag and took a moment to stutter at its contents, red streaking his cheeks, before he settled on actual, recognizable words. "The… belt. Are you serious? You’re serious." That ridiculous chastity belt. That Cormac had come in. And, Maker, that memory made the heat rush to more than his cheeks. "Is this you trying to tell me something?" he teased. "That I need to wear one of these?"
"Might be more effective than even your trousers of infinite belts." Cormac grinned, tugging the strand of keys out of the front of his robes. "I had the key copied. One for Fenris, of course, and one for me, in case he misplaces it. You don’t want to have to negotiate with Isabela, if he loses the key." He paused, watching Artie’s face. "And I wasn’t saying you need one. I was saying you might like one. You’re more into that sort of thing than I am, and Anders… well… Anders rather wanted to set the thing on fire."
Artemis rubbed the leather between his fingers as he considered. This was odd, he thought. He honestly didn’t see the appeal. Stuck wearing this as Cormac or Fenris drove him mad, straining against leather and metal as they teased him to the point of begging, pleading on his knees for them to… oh. Well.
Artie cleared his throat. "This is… yes. I think I see what you mean."
Oh, Fenris would love this.
"Do you want to see if we can get it to fit you, and we can give your elf the key, after dinner?" Cormac asked, watching recognition spread across his brother’s face. "If you want, we could have a bit of fun with it, just to make sure it’s a good idea, before we get his hopes up…" A smile teased at the corner of Cormac’s mouth.
Artemis licked his lips, darted a look at the doorway where Orana had been just a few minutes ago. "Spare bedroom. Upstairs. You remember the one." Artie had barely been in that room since that time Cormac had stayed the night. He was up from the chair and heading for the stairs without even waiting for an answer.
It took Cormac a moment to get up, but he followed without a word, pulling the door shut behind them, once they’d entered the room. He backed Artie into a bedpost and kissed him, demandingly, pressed close against him. "So… you want this?" Cormac asked, that sly smile still clinging to his lips. "You want me to make you completely unfuckable, and then tease you until you cry?" Honestly, though, he hoped Artie wouldn’t cry. He’d never be able to forgive himself for that, even if it was what his brother wanted.
Artemis hooked a hand in Cormac’s robes and pulled his brother flush against him. "Well, technically," he purred, biting his lip and looking coyly away. "Not completely unfuckable. Not unless you plan to gag me too." Which… was an interesting thought, yes, but probably too much in this particular instance.
Cormac tried to look delighted at the idea, but that one still scared him pretty badly. On the other hand, he’d watched Artie swallow more of Anders than he could ever hope to fit in his own mouth, without any lasting ill-effects. Maybe this would be okay. "Let’s get this thing on you, first, and then we can worry about what I’m going to do to you, while you’re in it," he suggested, tugging at the bag Artie still held.
Artie pulled the belt out of the bag and let the bag drop to the floor. For all his acting, he could tell Cormac was less thrilled about the idea than he was, and he wouldn’t press the issue. "You want me to wear this through dinner?" He handed Cormac the belt so he could deal with his clothing, watching Cormac as he pulled at the laces to his trousers. "Knowing I’m at your mercy?" He pushed his pants down past his hips, eased them to the floor and stepped out, wiggling his fingers at the contraption in Cormac’s hands.
Kneeling, Cormac opened the belt along the hinges, which, while they weren’t unbreakable, would be more effort to break, once the belt was on, than the locks would be to pick. Still, with it off, they came apart fairly easily, and Cormac shortened the waist, before slipping the contraption between his brother’s legs. He was able to fit it with minimal skin contact, despite the rather close fit of the front, which answered some questions he’d had about Anton getting the thing onto him. He felt much better, and he was sure Anton had, too. "At my mercy? Hm. That does have a nice sound to it, doesn’t it?" Cormac smiled, pressing a kiss to Artie’s thigh as he took out one of the keys and locked the belt. "I do want you to wear it all through dinner. After that, I think it’s up to Fenris."
Artemis ran his hand through Cormac’s hair and tugged him gently to his feet. This would be worth it alone just for the look on Fenris’s face. "Cosy," Artie drawled, flexing his thighs and shifting his weight, judging how it would sit. For a moment, he wondered if he had agreed too readily, if this was all just some elaborate vengeance for that time Cormac had lost that bet to him. But then again, Artie hoped his brother was smart enough not to piss off Fenris in that way.
"Should I wake him, then?" Artemis asked as he pulled up his trousers, punctuating the question with a soft kiss.
"Perhaps you should." Cormac grinned and squeezed his brother’s much less squeezable bottom. "This does no favours to the Hawke ass," he sighed. "Do you think we should tell him before we sit down, or should we wait until after dinner to let him in on the secret?"
Artemis bit his lip as he considered. Teasing an unknowing Fenris all through dinner was an entertaining thought, but… the alternative was Cormac and Fenris teasing him. "Why don’t we tell him?" he said with a lopsided grin.
He doubted they’d make it through dinner.