[ Master Post ]
Title: Rhapsody in Ass Major – Chapter 303
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Cormac Hawke ♂, Anton Hawke ♂, Fenris ♂, Natia Brosca ♀, Anders ♂, Nathaniel Howe ♂
Rating: E (L3 N4 S4 V0 D1)
Warnings: antagonism in bed, Justice!Anders (in bed), internal watersports, voyeurism, "in bed" with no bed
Notes: Fenris takes a dim view of the evening’s entertainments.
Fenris’s ear twitched. Whispering and nightly… canoodling he was used to sleeping through, but that sound was different, in a voice he wasn’t used to. Staying as still as he could, Fenris opened his eyes and peered into the dark. Dark shapes moved in a way he was familiar with, and since he’d recognised one voice as Anders’s, Fenris assumed, for a moment, that the second shape belonged to Cormac.
Except that voice wasn’t Cormac’s. Fenris caught the flash of electricity and heard Nathaniel swear again, more softly this time. "Shit, Anders," he cursed.
"Shit’s not what I want," Anders replied, and Fenris wondered what he meant by that. Except that, no, he probably didn’t want to know, did he?
"I know what you want, mage," Nathaniel said.
Anders writhed, wringing Nathaniel inside him. "Give it to me. Give it all to me. Put it in me," he panted, sparks getting closer together.
Cormac had very little idea, really, how intensely erotic it could be to listen to Anders plead, in whispers. Which wasn’t to say he hadn’t heard other intensely erotic things out of Anders, just not that. And if Howe could resist that? Cormac decided that would make him both a very strong man and a profound idiot. In that moment, he regretted not being the one between Anders’s legs.
A strangled sound dragged out of Nathaniel, and his hips stuttered. "Almost," he breathed. "Wish I’d saved more of that whiskey."
"Because you need to be drunk to fuck me?" Anders teased, eyes sliding closed as his concentration deepened, the electricity not just in his fingers, but inside him.
"Because I’d have a whole fucking quart to put up your filthy ass," Nathaniel growled, eyes fluttering as the creeping tingle ran up the length of his knob, met by another sharp spark from behind.
A memory shot through Fenris’s mind, Anders drunk and bitter, sprawled across Jethann’s bed at the Rose, mouth getting ahead of him. He was on his feet in an instant, wholly soundless as he moved across the camp, cutting to Cormac’s side of the pile of dismantled dwarven gear in the middle.
Cormac caught the motion and the intent, and the barrier came up quickly, catching Fenris at his side. "Don’t," he whispered. "Sit down. It’s not what you think. Watch them." Cormac paused. "But, thanks."
The barrier was more of a surprise than a hindrance. If he wanted to, he could press through it, but it was Cormac’s words that gave him pause. Cormac, who was very much awake and aware of what was going on and who wasn’t trying to tear Nathaniel open. A growl caught in Fenris’s throat, hands clenching and unclenching and ears pressing flat to his skull.
And then Fenris listened to Anders, to the desperate way he was pleading. He thought the mage might be pleading for mercy or for help, until he heard the word ‘more’. The reality of the situation brought him short for a second time.
Anders wasn’t enduring this. He was asking for this. Or maybe it was both.
Fenris sat, ready to step in the moment Anders needed him to, but he wasn’t sure he could watch this. "It’s not what I think?" he repeated, lip curling. "Then what is it? Because I am thinking of horrible things and also what horrible things I should like to do to this Warden." His words were soft, barely a ghost of a whisper, and the Wardens were too wrapped up in each other to hear.
"You know what Artemis likes? You know what I like?" Cormac paused until he caught Fenris’s eye. "Anders is just a different flavour. Leave them be. Justice is with them. If it goes too far, it will stop."
Fenris growled, looking back toward the Wardens, and remembering the feel of Justice against his skin. "Will it? Justice…"
"Justice likes the way you taste," Cormac muttered. "These three knew each other before we knew any of them. They know what they’re doing."
"Oh, fuck, Nathaniel!" Anders moaned, back arching, despite the awkward position, mouth open, as his shoulders rolled against the floor.
The light wasn’t very good, but Cormac could make out the way the flagpole jerked and twitched. He was watching Anders come all over his own face, pretty loudly, too, given that this was Anders. And that was it. Cormac made up his mind on the spot. "When we get home, I’m going to offer him exactly that."
Fenris looked ill at the thought. "That is… not something I needed to hear. Or to picture." He knew he didn’t need to tell Cormac to keep his mage out of such… activities. Artemis would likely faint at the very suggestion. "I do not understand this," he admitted softly, shaking his head. He understood what Cormac had said and what he had meant, that this was something Anders wanted, but why someone would want this… Fenris simply could not understand it.
But that was definitely pleasure on Anders’s face, in the sounds he was making, and there was a fierce sort of enjoyment in Nathaniel’s eyes as he continued to rut, body tightening, curling over Anders as a liquid moan dragged from his lips.
Fenris looked at everything but the tangled Wardens. Anton, at least, was still lightly snoring, and Fenris envied him. Natia, on the other hand, was still, her breathing slow, but he could see her eyes open in the dark.
"More," Anders demanded, voice still low. "I swear if you stop, I will snap you in half between my knees."
"One," Nathaniel counted, and something like a laugh bubbled in his chest, but never quite made it past his teeth. "How good is your memory, if you think I’m going to stop at one? Did all that time away from the Vigil dull you? Maybe only half a Warden, now?"
"Twice the Warden," Anders insisted, swinging a leg across Nathaniel’s back and rolling them over. "You know I always got the last one of the night. Or maybe you don’t. You’ll know now."
Nathaniel shivered and then sat up and knocked Anders back. "Don’t you drip that on me. These are my only clothes down here."
Anders laughed and pulled him down, in a tangle of limbs. "Again," he purred, the word rumbling in his chest. "Give me more, Warden. You know I can take it."
"I know you can give it, too." Nathaniel muttered, eyeing the flagpole as he adjusted them into a more reasonable position. "How did you ever make that fit?"
"Magic." Anders smirked.
This time, Natia was at an angle to get an amazing view as Anders folded up on himself. And what she was watching should not have been possible. She glanced around, spotting Fenris sitting up by Cormac’s bedroll. At least someone else was awake, for this. This was unreal. There was no way anyone could reach. But, well, apparently… That appeared to be Anders fucking his own mouth, as that other Warden fucked his ass. That was… not how humans worked, the last time she’d checked. Of course, the last time she’d checked humans also weren’t hung like legends said the Qunari were, either. Polearm, indeed.
"Well, now that just seems excessive." Natia didn’t realise she’d spoken aloud until Fenris twisted to look at her. She shrugged, unabashed. "Well, it does!"
"I have to agree with you on that," Fenris replied, his expression pinched. Surely one man didn’t need that much knob. Being able to fit said knob in his mouth… well, that wasn’t a talent Fenris knew Anders had.
Natia watched the Wardens for a long moment, shaking her head. "I’m seeing things, aren’t I?" she whispered. "I’ve caught the Blight, and now I’m seeing things. That is the only explanation, since that shouldn’t be physically possible."
"It’s possible," Fenris protested. "If you’re flexible. Or have a flagpole, apparently." Fenris cut a glance at Cormac. "Not that I’ve tried doing it."
In front of them, the Wardens kept at each other with a desperation and a hunger Fenris had never seen before. He wondered how long they would be at this. He would like to return to sleep, but he could not see sleeping through this.
Cormac’s hand moved as subtly as he could manage under the blanket, fingers caressing his own flesh, as he wished he were invited to this revelry of bodies and fluids. He’d never seen Anders quite like this, definitely never heard him like this, antagonistic and demanding, between wet suckling noises, and the sound of that voice he knew so well lashing out with taunts and wicked demands, cracking with pleasure, went straight to his knob.
A tiny, dry sound, like fingers on cloth, caught Fenris’s attention, and he glanced at where Cormac lay beside him, propped up on one elbow, blankets pulled up to his neck. "You’re not …"
Tilting his chin in the direction of the Wardens in front of him, Cormac asked, "And you’re not thinking it? I just have more blankets, so you don’t have to watch."
Ears twitching in annoyance, Fenris opened his mouth, but the next sentence never made it out, drowned out by the other Warden’s voice. "Tighter!" The demand came in almost a normal speaking volume. "Yes— Yes, fucking squeeze!" Breathy groans and gasps followed, interspersed with the occasional snarl, and Anders made little sound, but to moan around the knob in his mouth.
And something about that still upset Fenris, irrationally. He’d come to understand control, but this wasn’t that. This was savagery and antagonism, an inexplicable brutality, even without obvious violence. And even the violence, the way Cormac took it, pleading during and laughing before and after, wasn’t like this, somehow.
Anders choked as Nathaniel slammed into him even harder, a shrill screech wringing out of Nathaniel, as his entire body tensed.
"Ancestors," Natia giggled, in amazement, "the man sounds like a dragon getting fucked!"
Anton woke long enough to wing a boot at Natia. "S’not a dragon. Dragon’s at home. Goin’ home t’my dragon. Mmmm, dragon noises."
Cormac’s hand stopped moving beneath the blanket. "He means Cullen. Don’t ask."
"I really think that was more of a wyvern noise," Fenris said, finally, and he and Cormac looked at each other for a long moment, trying very hard not to laugh, as visions of Château Haine danced through both their heads.
A ragged sound of loss tore out of Anders as Nathaniel suddenly pulled out, slapping and tugging at Anders’s arm. "On your knees. I wanted you on your knees to start, but you had to be difficult. Get up so I can fuck the will out of you, and maybe we’ll actually get some sleep."
Cormac knew what that was about, as soon as he heard the last of it. Nine hours of Warden stamina could be shortcut into an hour or two, if they skipped the parts that made it pleasing, rather than just pleasurable. He’d done that enough times, for Anders, when there wasn’t time for much else.
Fenris’s ears twitched in different directions as he watched. He didn’t want to, not really, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He thought of all the times he’d pushed Artemis to his knees like that — because Artemis asked him to, and because Fenris loved the way he begged — but this… this, again, was different. This was ragged stone, and Nathaniel didn’t seem to care if Anders skinned his knees bloody. Healer, Fenris reminded himself, and in the end, Anders was begging for this too.
Nathaniel shoved back into Anders, punching another shaky breath out of the mage, and Anders braced himself, palms flat on the floor. Nathaniel resumed his earlier rhythm. He showed no mercy, and Anders wanted none.