[ Master Post ]
Title: Rhapsody in Ass Major – Chapter 265
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Anders ♂, Fenris ♂, Artemis Hawke ♂
Rating: E (L3 N4 S4 V0 D1)
Warnings: The internet is for porn, breathplay, fade-fisting
Notes: A bit of a warm-up for what Artie actually intended to do with his evening.
"I think you’d do better behind him, but I need you paying attention to me, because I’ll be able to see his face," Anders said, considering the dynamics involved. "Artie, you need to know I’m going to back up if I think you’re trying to take more of me than you should with his fingers in your neck. Don’t try to swallow me. Just take a couple inches and let him handle the rest. I’ll keep an eye on you. And by Andraste, don’t be stupid about it, please? If you start spacing out, pinch me, pinch him, smack the floor — something."
Artie nodded dazedly, flopping to a sit behind Anders and on top of the pillow. "Of course," he said, nodding again when Anders twisted to look at him. "I know. I promise not to be stupid." And this was different, he realised. If Fenris had a grip on his windpipe, Artemis wouldn’t be able to just force shove him away if something went wrong. This would be the most vulnerable he’d ever been, and he wondered what it said about him that that was most of the appeal.
Anders stared at him a moment longer as though trying to decide if Artemis really did ‘know’. "A Hawke promising not to be stupid," Anders drawled, exchanging a look with Fenris. "I should get that in writing, just so I’ll have proof for future generations."
Artemis snorted, laying back to sprawl on the floor. "Fuck you, too, Anders."
"You just did." Anders winked. "And I think it was, to answer Fenris’s earlier question."
"Was what?" Fenris asked, brows knit.
"Worth the wait."
"I did get the best Hawke." Fenris smiled smugly at Artemis. "The whore says it was worth the wait."
Anders was fast, and Fenris was laughing — a split second later, Fenris’s ass hit the floor as Anders yanked on his ankle. "Past. Tense," Anders growled, and Fenris couldn’t find the will to argue with the look on his face. "But, after my carnal career in the tower, I’m willing to let you have that ‘worth the wait’ is an accomplishment, albeit one that also goes to another Hawke."
"You had to wait for Cormac?" Fenris’s face twisted in disbelief.
"Perhaps it’s more fair to say he waited with me." Anders shrugged. "I was stupid. Took me a while to get around to it." His hand released Fenris’s ankle and slid up the leg. "But, I’m not really feeling the wait, tonight, so I’m ready whenever the two of you are."
Artie stared at the ceiling and considered how long he’d waited for Cormac, though he supposed most of those years didn’t count since he’d given up before he’d begun.
Fenris hummed, looking Anders up and down. "You know what’s in your potion," he rumbled, "so you know exactly how ready I am." He tipped his head in Artemis’s direction. "Amatus meus, on the other hand…"
"Your Amatus is at your disposal," Artemis said, clasping his hands behind his head and smiling coyly. His limbs still felt like jelly, but he would keep up as best he could.
Fenris huffed, exchanging another look with Anders. "At our disposal, he says," Fenris drawled. "The mage puddle is at our disposal. What should we do with it?" A sparking finger traced the curve of lyrium up his thigh and over his hip, and Fenris sucked in a breath.
Something shifted in the back of Anders’s head, but Justice slapped it back. "We need his neck straight, so you don’t break anything," he murmured, as Justice continued to lean against something that was definitely pushing back. A blue gleam settled in their eyes.
"Are you sure you’re…?" Fenris asked, catching the hint of blue.
"Just tired. Long week." Anders shook his head and looked back at Artemis, curling his finger. "Up on your knees, legs apart. Fenris needs to fit behind you."
Fenris reflected that he’d been much less comfortably pressed against Artemis’s back, at several points over the years. This might involve a face full of shoulder-blade, but if it went as well as Artemis hoped, it would be worthwhile. He neglected to quite get up, stretching one leg in the right direction and shifting his weight up and over onto that knee, as he edged behind Artemis.
The mage-puddle shifted as requested, albeit more slowly than usual, and Fenris fit himself behind him. Fenris slipped an arm around Artie’s waist and pressed a kiss to the shoulder-blade directly in front of him. Artemis leaned back into him, and the kiss turned into a teasing bite along the ridge of bone.
Looking at Anders, Artemis finally caught the blue that flashed over amber eyes. Tired, Anders had said, and Artie wondered if that was Justice reacting to the lyrium in Fenris’s… ‘glowstick’. For a moment, he wondered if this had been a good idea after all.
Then Anders stood, and Artie licked his lips. He wondered if it would be rude to say he’d missed the flagpole, with Fenris right behind him. "Hello, old friend," he said instead, earning a dry huff from Fenris, breath tickling over his skin. "So good to see you."
Anders snorted and shook his head. "Every time I get you into this position, you say that."
"Well, it’s true every time."
A bit more head-shaking, and Anders stroked his knob across Artie’s lips. "I think we should test this idea, before we get too serious. Fenris, show me what you’re thinking, show him what you’re thinking. Artie, show me one of your hands. As he does what he’s going to do, I need you to show me how hard it is for you to breathe. Five fingers if you can’t draw breath, one if everything’s normal. I expect you know about what those would feel like if his fingers were outside your skin, but you don’t know how this is going to be different, and I don’t know what your face looks like when things get to be too much."
As Anders gazed down, judging the distance between them, Fenris’s hand came up, gently stroking Artemis’s throat, before the glow lit it. "I do not wish to hurt you, Amatus," Fenris breathed as the tips of his fingers faded into the skin.
Artie was about to assure him that he wouldn’t, only to decide that talking was probably not the best idea just then. Lyrium-lined fingers pressed through skin and muscle, stroked along the line of an artery and felt the rush of a pulse inside it. Artemis shivered, and Fenris steadied him with the solid arm around his waist.
"Your hand, Artie," Anders reminded him firmly, and Artemis held up one finger.
Delicately, Fenris closed his fingers around Artie’s windpipe, feeling the shivery rush of air as Artie sucked in a breath. No matter how long they were together, Fenris had to marvel at how much trust this mage put in him. Fenris’s hand squeezed, just a little, and he felt more than heard the groan that slipped from Artemis. A second finger went up.
Anders’s eyes darted between the fingers and Artemis’s face. Nothing troubling, that he could see — Artie’s eyes were still clear, breathing seemed to be regular, outside the occasional shiver, gasp, or … he suspected that might have been a groan, from the way Artie’s lips moved. This kind of thing scared the shit out of him for any number of reasons, none of which he wanted to consider right now, but if he was here, watching, Artie wasn’t going to get seriously hurt, and that was what mattered. He’d watch, this time, maybe a couple more times, and then they’d get the hang of it, and they wouldn’t need him any more.
He could feel the inside of his skull turning blue, as Justice leaned harder against all those little things that just weren’t really all that relevant. Tired, he’d said, and when he pressed his thumb to the inner curve of his eye, he looked it, eyes still carefully studying the scene before him. Wasn’t any worse than Cormac, he supposed. Maker, the first time Cormac had asked to be cut, Anders had leapt out of bed, making it halfway across the clinic, before he realised he was naked, but for his shirt. There. That was a smile. He could hold on to that.
Fenris’s fingers gently stroked the slender tube in his grip, feeling the structure of it, how each breath warmed between one finger and the next. Hearts, he understood. He had developed a relationship with hearts, long before Artemis. Killings with the neck, though, had been cruel and slow, in comparison, and he hadn’t done many, always by explicit command. Here, he knew, the bone that braced the tongue. Below it, the ridges that gave his mage the voice he’d come to love. And below that, his grip, just barely narrowing the airway.
Fenris looked up at Anders, then down at the pair of fingers Artemis held up. Still safe, so far, and Artie tilted his chin up, just a bit, as though asking for more. He wondered what the windpipe in his hand would feel like if Artie spoke, wondered what the vibrations of his name would feel like under his fingertips.
Fenris squeezed just a bit tighter, and a third finger went up. Artie’s mouth dropped open around a wet sound, but there was a smile at the corner of his lips. "Is this what you wanted, Amatus?" he murmured, his thumb following each inhale down his throat.
Artie didn’t dare nod his head. "Yes," he rasped, squeezing a sigh through Fenris’s fingers. "Fen."
Fenris purred at the sound of his name and pressed a kiss to the bare shoulder in front of him. "I can feel every sound you make, every breath. Say something else for me."
"Please," Artie groaned. One syllable between ragged breaths.
And that sound grabbed Anders’s attention — grabbed it right by his knob and pulled. Artie seemed to be keeping track of himself, as far as he could tell, being still able to talk, and definitely enjoying the situation. "Find your fingers, Fenris. I don’t want you squeezing tighter than that, while we’re all in motion."
"I know exactly where my fingers are," Fenris assured him. Three fingers. He could see where that was likely to be enough, once Artie started panting and pleading. It didn’t take much to get Artemis that much more engaged, and while he could apply quite a bit of pressure, before they got into trouble, in the usual way, without all the muscle of the neck to fight his hand, he didn’t dare. Three fingers seemed like a reasonable stopping point, if five meant Artemis had stopped breathing entirely. Maybe just a little more when Artemis came.
"Please," Artie breathed again. This time an arch of his hips accompanied the word, and he ground back against Fenris’s knob, which was fast regaining interest. He looked up at Anders with pleading eyes, not daring to say more than one word at a time.