[ Master Post ]
Title: Rhapsody in Ass Major – Chapter 266
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: Artie gets what he wants. Anders is less than entirely enthused, but still enjoys the last of Artie’s lunatic whim. Fenris has no complaints.
"You are enjoying this, aren’t you," Anders hummed, looking down from Artie’s three fingers to his other hand, which kneaded his own thigh. He wondered what it was about Hawkes and dangerous tastes, but at the same time wondered if his… wants… were any better. And that was something else that Justice took hold of and pushed aside.
"A bit," Artie admitted on his next exhale, mouth open around a crooked smile.
"Only a bit?" Fenris purred, grinding against Artemis’s ass and feeling the breath Artemis sucked in. "Well, I suppose we’ve only started, haven’t we."
Anders crouched in front of Artemis, reaching out to stroke his fingers gently down Artie’s belly, beneath Fenris’s arm. He remembered how slick he’d liked to keep Artie, but whether Fenris would need quite as much grease remained to be seen. Still, better to be safe. At least they weren’t on the rug, if that turned out to be too much.
"Do you want him to fuck you, now?" Anders asked, a bit of a smile curling his lips as he gazed into Artemis’s eyes, remembering another time when he’d been asking all the questions. "I’ll just watch, for a little while. Make sure things are working the way they should be. Your brother would kill me if I let anything happen to you. And I’d be twice as dead if I showed up a few hours late to tell him that."
"You assume you’d make it back to Cormac," Fenris scoffed against Artie’s shoulder, before he asked, "Is it time? Are you ready for me?"
"Yes," Artemis said, the word sounding all the more desperate for its breathy quality. He wondered if it was too early to throw in a third ‘please’.
Over Artie’s shoulder, Fenris caught Anders’s eye, and the mage nodded. Carefully, Fenris slid his solid arm around Artie and down, giving his ass a squeeze before he lined himself up. "Te ardeo," he murmured, as though Artemis didn’t already know, and slowly pushed in.
The ragged breath Artemis drew in was Fenris’s favourite yet. His arm returned to Artie’s waist, and Artie laid a hand over his wrist. "You hold me almost as tightly as I hold you," Fenris said against his skin, and he wondered if this was a sort of balance, completing the circuit.
All the while, Anders watched Artie’s breathing, watched Artie’s eyes roll back in pleasure at the first rock of Fenris’s hips.
His mage, Fenris thought, always delighted him. Never ceased to find ways to make him worry and then to make him come. He wondered if that was part of it, as he felt Artemis squeeze around him, soft and warm and slick, if perhaps that moment of horror was some part of the kink as well. Not everything had wound up being good ideas, but he’d never been disappointed, by the end of the night, and he hoped he hadn’t left Artemis lacking on any night. He didn’t think he had, from the amount of ‘please’ and ‘yes’ he tended to hear.
And now, to be able to not only hear those words and metaphorically feel them run down his spine, but to literally feel them run down his fingers — he’d never imagined this. It was somehow even more enticing, more intimate, even with Anders watching. This pleasure was one he didn’t think Cormac would have the stomach for, and that was something that put a shiver in his spine. Something that was just for the two of them, again.
His hips lifted, driving him up into Artemis’s incredible body, and Fenris’s own breath stilled for a moment, everything about him motionless for a second, just to feel every subtle vibration of this body that he loved.
Artemis could feel Fenris inside and around him, and just the thought of Fenris touching him where no one else could went right to his groin. He could feel the pad of Fenris’s thumb brush his voice-box, which shivered in another groan. Artemis didn’t bite off his sounds this time, not when they were in Fenris’s hand, trembling against his fingers.
With Artemis’s ragged moans filling his ears, Fenris set up a rhythm, slow enough not to jar Artemis against his phased hand but deep enough to wring out more of those delicious sounds. Artie’s hand went from kneading his own thigh to digging nails into it.
Anders glanced at that hand, then back up to Artie’s face. "You want to touch yourself, don’t you?" he asked, knowing how much Artie liked to be talked to during sex. "Look how hard you’re trying not to."
Artie choked out a third ‘please’, and Fenris smiled against his shoulder.
Anders reached out and took Artie’s hand in his own, kneading it, stroking the fingers, watching Artemis struggle between the pleasure and Fenris’s grip on his breath. He ran his thumb down the centre of Artie’s palm, feeling the fingers twitch and stretch, before wrapping that hand around the flagpole. "Touch me," he breathed.
Perhaps it wasn’t quite what he’d intended, but it was probably safer this way. It was definitely louder this way. For all that it might be delightful to feel those sounds reverberate through his flesh, it was even better to hear them. Artemis had always been so quiet, barely louder than he was. To be able to finally hear his pleasure seemed like some erotic dream, and he looked forward to whispering every moment of this into Cormac’s ear, later.
Fenris’s thrusts eased into a steady grind, hips bucking and rolling, but never pulling him out. He could take his time, he knew, and drag this out — and really, at some point he meant to — but the sensation against his fingertips, the feeling of those sounds and the way they shot straight down to his elbow just wasn’t something he was prepared to dull, to fortify himself against. He remembered the first time he’d taken Artemis — actually, he didn’t remember much of that at all, but there were some flashes of warmth and sweat and the mingled sound of his voice with Artemis’s. That was almost this feeling, if differently. Everything seemed gloriously new, tonight.
Artemis stroked Anders in time to Fenris’s movements. The weight of the flagpole was familiar in his hand, and it was simple muscle memory to twist his hand the way Anders liked, to move his thumb in a way that had Anders sucking in a breath. It was something for Artie to focus on while his own knob ached.
He’d lost track of the number of times he’d said ‘please’, of the number of times Fenris’s name had shivered over Fenris’s fingers. Somewhere through the dizzying, splintering pleasure, Artemis made a note to thank the Maker or whatever gods were out there for letting him have Fenris. Or for letting Fenris have him, he supposed.
Fenris’s grip tightened around Artie’s waist, holding him still as his mage shivered and rocked back against him. He wondered how loud his mage would get, if his shouts would fill the room, even with Fenris’s hand controlling his breathing.
Anders revelled in the way Artemis stroked him, even as he kept watch. It was a talent born of years of dodging templars while he hiked the robes of every mage who would get near him. He stretched one hand and dragged a single finger up the bobbing length of Artie’s knob, circling it teasingly around the tip, darting his fingertip against the frenulum just enough times that there was no question he had Artie’s attention, but not enough to be enough.
He smiled as the pleading and moaning continued, almost wishing he could see Fenris’s face as well, to see if he was enjoying this anywhere near the way Artemis was. A faint spark darted from his fingertip to the tip of Artemis’s knob.
And that shocked a ragged shout from Artie, eyes popping wide and hand stuttering in its rhythm on Anders.
"Venhedis," Fenris breathed at the way Artemis clenched around him.
Anders went back to teasing Artemis with just his finger, looking nothing less than smug at that reaction. He waited until the pleading started again and pressed another spark to Artie’s knob. And with Artemis’s breathing restricted, Artie was louder than Fenris had ever heard him — except perhaps, for their wedding night, which had featured another terrible idea put to good use.
When the ground started to shake, it felt like an extension of the trembling of Artemis’s vocal cords, a low percussive hum that shook Fenris’s bones. And Fenris squeezed tighter, just a hair, just enough for Artemis’s final shout to choke off with a wet sound as he stiffened, coming hard over Anders and the floor.
Anders caught what he could and then raised his hand to his mouth, licking between his fingers to get all of it. He was aching hard, the tip of his knob getting shiny with the pressure, and he knew he had to get back home. This wasn’t for him, and he’d gotten what he really wanted, but he was going to be bitchy and burning magic, if he didn’t do something about that soon. And not just once.
"I trust the two of you can amuse yourselves for the rest of the duration of that potion?" He smiled slyly at Artemis, and his eyebrows flicked up suggestively. "I had some things I wanted to take care of, this evening, not least of all, this." His hand gestured along the length of the flagpole.
Fenris slid his hand out of Artemis’s neck, and Artie blinked at Anders as though trying to remember how words worked. "You know, we could…" Artie paused to cough and clear his throat when his voice came out scratchy. "We could help with… at least one of those things." He mimicked Anders’s gesture at the flagpole. "I do have fond memories of sitting on the flagpole." His words ended in a squeak as Fenris thrust into him, reminding him he was still sitting on something else.
"And I have fond memories of baths and sandwiches," said Anders as he pushed himself to his feet. "But I’ll take you up on that offer next time." Assuming Fenris would let him.
Artemis looked vaguely disappointed, but Fenris was wringing more anguished sounds from him by the time Anders had made it out the front door.