[ Master Post ]
Title: Rhapsody in Ass Major – Chapter 233
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Cormac Hawke ♂, Artemis Hawke ♂, Fenris ♂
Rating: M (L3 N2 S2 V0 D0)
Warnings: Hot Hawke-on-Hawke action, bondage, light D/s
Notes: Cormac meets one of his brother’s new garden ornaments, and Artemis pleads to be pleased upon it. Fenris looks terribly smug about the whole ordeal, thus far.
At Fenris’s insisting, they made it through multiple courses of dinner and dessert. The improbably patient bastard. They traded touches over their plates and under the table, sometimes with Fade-blue skin against Artie’s. And Artemis could see Fenris smirking around his wine every time he squirmed in his seat.
Cormac watched, mostly, seated, as he was, at the other side of the table. As foolish as it seemed, separating himself from the couple made his fond, if exasperated, glances much more believable, while Orana was in the room. And a few feet was no obstacle to a well-aimed spark. But, by the end of the meal, watching his brother squirm almost unceasingly, he was somewhat relieved when Fenris gave Orana the rest of the night off.
Untying one of the keys, Cormac tossed it across the table, to Fenris. "Well, that was my plan for an exciting evening. The rest is up to you." He’d give Fenris the option to tell him to get the fuck out. It was only fair — he had woken up in the middle of this, and nobody asked him.
And Fenris considered doing just that for a moment, but he didn’t want to see the disappointment on Artemis’s face.
"Hmm." Fenris toyed with the key, walking it across his knuckles, a sly smile pulling up one corner of his lips. He pretended not to notice the way Artie leaned toward him, blue eyes equal parts pleading and eager. "You are right. This was an exciting evening. We could, perhaps, both pocket our keys and do it all over again over breakfast."
"Fen." Artemis would deny that came out as a whine.
"Or we could continue our evening upstairs. Or in the garden. There’s still light enough for that, if not for much longer. We never did get to show him our new lawn furniture, Amatus."
"I’m always up for exciting lawn furniture — provided Carver never realises what it is. Do you know he punched me for Anton’s?" Cormac shook his head. "I hope you have torches, if we stay out there, though. I’d hate to think of not being able to see the result of our efforts, if we decide not to rush."
"Rushing leads to mistakes," Fenris pointed out. "Mistakes and missed opportunities. We should definitely take our time, don’t you think, Amatus?" The tiniest smile settled onto his lips.
"I’d hate to make a mistake with something so precious," Cormac purred, and Fenris glared at him. "Hey, that’s my brother. I get to say things like that."
"You two are terrible," Artie whined. "I shouldn’t have agreed to this." As though he weren’t enjoying every minute.
Fenris’s smirk said he knew better. "You can’t blame it on the drink this time, Amatus," he said, right in Artemis’s ear just to watch him shiver. His mage never seemed to tire of hearing his voice, and Fenris was still learning all the ways to use that to his advantage. "Shall we?" Fenris hooked a finger in the waistband of Artie’s trousers, thumb toying over the laces, and led his mage out into the garden, trusting Cormac to follow.
"Terrible," Artie repeated with affection.
"Awful," Cormac agreed, bringing up the rear. "The very worst. As you’ve said again and again." He pinched Artemis’s bottom as best he could, with the belt in the way of the best parts. "So very terrible, the worst brother — until you want something, and then I’m your favourite. This is how brothers are, Fenris. Be glad you’re just borrowing mine." He rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around Artie’s shoulders, as they passed through the doors into the garden.
"Borrowing yours? I think I’ve done a great deal more than just borrow him," Fenris pointed out, leading the way through the slender trees and marble furniture.
"An extended loan. Let it never be said the Hawkes are ungenerous," Cormac teased.
"Indeed. Your brother is a higher quality than the rest of his family, combined," Fenris shot back.
"This is true," Artemis agreed with mock solemnity. "With his refined taste, Fenris makes a fine Hawke connoisseur. He’s also very good with wine." Artemis slipped an arm under Cormac’s, giving his ass a squeeze before holding his hip instead. "Though I suppose it depends on the flavour you prefer."
"And your taste in wine and food, Amatus, is as terrible as your cooking."
The sun wasn’t as high in the sky as it had been the last time the three of them had ventured into the gardens (with Anders), and the trees cut longer shadows along the grass. Fenris led them to a piece of furniture that didn’t look like furniture at all but more like an ornament with its detailed latticework and Tevinter-style carving. Artemis saw where Fenris was leading them, and his eyes lit.
"Your taste in Hawkes is pretty piss, too," Cormac joked. "Anton’s the handsome one."
"I have seen enough Hawke ass to last me a lifetime, and none of it has been Anton’s. Let us keep it that way," Fenris grumbled, hip-checking Artemis across the rounded top of the ornament. "Will you hold the grips or must I bind you?" he asked, sliding a finger up the inside of Artemis’s thigh. "I would rather not have to bind you, just yet. You’re still dressed."
Artemis shivered at the question, reaching down to grip the handles. "Then maybe we should change that," he suggested, rolling his hips invitingly as he found a position that was comfortable.
"Impatient," Fenris tutted, looming over Artemis but no longer touching him. "Perhaps if you asked more nicely."
Cormac smiled and leaned on the engraved flowers at one end of the curved surface. It would be a cask, he thought, if it were hollow, and he wondered if it were. If not, that was a lot of stone and terribly heavy, and he rather hoped the earthquakes wouldn’t harm it. "‘Please’, he says," Cormac scoffed. "I don’t know about that. Where’s the passion? Where’s the desire?"
He dipped the tips of his fingers into the top of Artemis’s trousers and held a light current through the metal of the belt — just enough to tingle where it touched the skin without leather. "Come on, tell us what you want. Beg for it."
Artie arched into Cormac’s touch, a whimper shivering past his lips. His grip tightened and loosened around the handles in time to his breathing, which he tried to keep steady. "Ass," Artemis muttered, though not like he meant it. "I want… I want you to touch me. I want your hands on my skin." He looked up pleadingly at Fenris and added, "I want your hands inside my skin." Just the thought made him squirm, and it occurred to him that he was very much on display like this.
Fenris hummed as though considering, exchanging a look with Cormac over Artie’s body. "That sounded less like begging and more like demanding," he said. Fingertips glowing blue, Fenris traced them over Artemis’s thigh, just enough to touch through cloth but not enough to go through the skin, and another soft, aching sound caught in Artie’s throat. Terrible, the both of them. And, Maker, but he didn’t remember the belt being this tight…
"Please. Please touch me. I need you. Both of you. Please."
"Oooh! That’s delightful!" Cormac purred, smiling slyly at Fenris. "I think we can offer a little something for that. Just a bit. Maybe a flicker…" Cormac closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths as the indigo glow poured in, from his fingertips. Reaching out, he stroked the edge of Artie’s cheek, not quite forcefully enough to pass through it.
"I did wonder why you waited for the keys," Fenris said, tipping his chin at Cormac, as he traced designs along the inseam of Artemis’s trousers.
"Personal reasons," Cormac said, laughing. "I’m not stable enough to risk my organs like that."
"And yet you’ll—"
"I was drunk, at the time. We all were. I don’t recall you making any effort to discourage me, at the time," Cormac reminded him, pressing two glowing fingers into his brother’s mouth.
Fenris had an argument for that, but he pursed his lips instead. He’d let Artie talk him into something similar, so his protests were a bit hollow.
Artie hummed around the glowing fingers in his mouth, brushing his tongue against what he could of Cormac and tasting the Fade on — in? — his skin. His knuckles were white now on the handles as he resisted the urge to let them go, to pull Fenris and Cormac closer.
"Is this what you wanted, Amatus?" Fenris said. Fade-blue fingers ghosted over Artie’s groin without pushing through fabric or leather, and Artemis whined in the back of his throat, arching hips seeking that touch. Fenris smiled and pulled his hand away.
"I’m not hearing any complaints. We must be doing something right." Cormac thrust his fingers gently into Artie’s mouth, petting his tongue. "What do you think, Fenris? I think he’s still wearing too much. Should we strip him bare, but for the belt, and have our way with him?"
"Moving quickly, tonight," Fenris remarked. "I thought we might make him wait a bit longer." His fingers toyed with the edges of the metal, tugging the fabric of Artie’s trousers tight over it. "Although I suppose," he said, slipping his hands up to wrap around Artie’s waist, the sides of both hands pressed firmly against the tops of Artie’s hips, just close enough for the Fade-tinged edges to brush against bone, "we have to start somewhere."
After a bit, Cormac retrieved his fingers, stroking Artemis’s cheek. "Perhaps just the shirt, first," he offered, drumming his fingers against Artemis’s chest, bunching the fabric, and slowly baring a taut expanse of warm, brown skin.