[ Master Post ]
Title: Rhapsody in Ass Major – Chapter 304
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: Natia makes an offer. The Broody Death Elf objects to being so named. The Wardens finally finish with each other.
"Oh my," Natia said in a small voice. She’d heard about Wardens, certainly, but had dismissed the rumours about their stamina. She wondered if everything about the Wardens was excessive: the excessive hunger, the excessive appetites, and the excessive… well, that part she suspected was specific to Anders. She hoped. Then Natia caught the subtle movement under Cormac’s blankets, movement the elf had already noticed too judging from his scowl. "Need some help with that?" she asked him and then flushed at her boldness.
Cormac froze, eyes still on the scene before them. She was nice and she was smart — he’d give her that, but… was he interested? He really wasn’t sure, and he was even less sure he should be interested in anything that wasn’t the two Wardens in front of him, right this second. Shooting an uncertain glance at Fenris, he opened his mouth, only to have Fenris answer first.
"Please don’t." The corner of his mouth on Cormac’s side tipped up. "There is enough of a show without you adding to it."
Natia considered Fenris. Considered extending the offer to him, but… he just wasn’t that attractive. Slim and hairless, like a nug. She was curious how far those tattoos went, but only curious. Not curious enough to do something about it. Cormac, though, was probably the best-looking human she’d laid eyes on. Not the best looking man, but definitely the best looking human. Those wide shoulders, the little bit of hair from his chest that showed at the collar of his robes.
"You know he can actually stick his hand through your chest?" Cormac said, quietly, tipping his chin toward Fenris. "I’m going to have to vote for not upsetting the broody death elf."
"Broody. Death. Elf." Fenris levelled a flat look at Cormac.
"Okay, less broody since you married my brother," Cormac admitted, watching the way Anders shifted his body to catch his knob between his thighs, so it wouldn’t knock against the floor, as Nathaniel continued to pound mercilessly into him.
"So just Death Elf, now?" Fenris drawled, one eyebrow twitching up. He considered that for a moment before nodding, pleased. "That is not a bad title. Certainly not inaccurate." His grin was more like a baring of teeth.
Natia settled back down into her bedroll, pulling the blanket back over her as she squirmed a bit. She hadn’t expected anything to come of her offer, and this probably wasn’t the place for it anyway. "Why ‘Death Elf’?" she asked innocently. "Because you kill the mood?"
Fenris shot her a withering look, and Natia waved her hand.
"Just teasing," she said. "Please don’t kill me."
Fenris harrumphed but chose to let her live. Another sound from Anders distracted him anyway, another long, liquid moan that seemed out of place on his lips. Was this what it took to wring a sound from Anders?
Nathaniel’s hands had to be leaving bruises, the way they clutched at the mage, pulling Anders back into each thrust. Anders’s fingers scrambled at the ground, his mouth falling open.
That was a look Cormac knew well, and just the sight of it ran sparks down his spine. He could almost feel the way Anders’s body would relax in his hands, if he thought about it. But, that sound… He gripped himself tightly, digging his fingers in, to avoid making a mess. And still they kept on, Nathaniel barking out ragged shards of sound, little yelps and breathy growls, as he pushed Anders tighter against the floor.
One sound from Nathaniel seemed particularly loud and desperate, almost a whimper, and Anders folded his hands under his cheek to look over his shoulder. "Again?" he asked, tilting his hips up invitingly. "Do it, Howe. Do it. You know I want it."
Nathaniel only answered with another pleading whine, and Anders reached back to rest a handful of sparks against the back of his own hips, two fingers jabbing in just where the line of dark hair down Nathaniel’s chest gave way to the thick thatch above his knob, and the lightning clenched the muscles, so Nathaniel curled in on himself at the end of every thrust.
"Fill me up, Howe. I want it. Fill me up until it runs out of me. Fuck me until I slosh!" Anders’s eyes drifted back down and settled on Cormac. He knew Cormac would be watching, and… another shape beside him. Probably Fenris. Interesting. Well, this would make quite a show.
Fenris caught that look, eyebrows arcing towards his hairline. That was the look of someone who already knew he was being watched, and Fenris wondered if the mage had any shame at all.
"Always so damn demanding," Nathaniel growled, his thrusts breaking up the words, and Anders didn’t deny it. More sparks crackled over Nathaniel’s skin and behind his eyes, hips juddering as he curled tighter over Anders.
Anders purred his approval. "Only because I know you can give me what I want."
Nathaniel paused for breath. "Only because you’re a little shit."
Fenris wiped a hand over his face. This was ridiculous. This was ridiculous, and he was tired and uncomfortably hard despite his revulsion, and he had no idea how long two Wardens could go at this. "I hate the Deep Roads," he muttered.
"I love the Deep Roads," Natia replied.
"You’re the only one," Cormac assured her. "Lie down a bit, Fenris. It’s easier to ignore, if you’re not trying to sit up."
That was probably an accurate statement, Fenris thought, looking over at Anton, who had pulled the blankets and his pack over his head, and seemed to be back to snoring. "Maybe."
"Okay, fine, lie down by me, and I’ll put you to sleep." Cormac rolled his eyes, but pulled his robes back down under the blanket.
"That sounds unwise," Fenris remarked, as Anders suddenly stopped making sounds, and loosened subtly, in that way he had. The sound of Nathaniel’s thrusts had changed, as well, and Fenris didn’t want to give that any thought, at all.
"That’s because it is," Cormac agreed. "But, if you want to sleep through this, I’ll help you do it. I used to get Artie back to sleep, when he’d wake up with nightmares. This is just a nightmare you’re awake for."
"But, you agree it’s a nightmare?" Fenris raised an eyebrow, unable to tear his eyes away from the way Anders twisted and writhed beneath Nathaniel, like an animal in heat.
"Well, for you, anyway. But, that’s how it is for us, isn’t it? I like it, you’re horrified." Cormac shrugged, both his hands outside the blanket, now. "But, the way you keep watching them, maybe you want to go back and get your blanket before you lie down."
Fenris growled unconvincingly. He stretched out one leg and hooked a corner of his blanket with his toe before dragging it over. "For warmth," he said preemptively, defensively, as he laid it out over him. He stretched out on the ground, wriggling until he found a spot that was almost comfortable. Fenris was less than thrilled at the thought of Cormac using magic on him, but it was the better of two bad options. Especially when Anders let out a sound that went straight to his knob. "I am not taking the next watch," he muttered, staring determinedly at the ceiling and not at the still-writhing pair.
"I think we’re doing plenty of watching between us," Natia drawled.
"I actually volunteered for it," Cormac admitted, resting a hand on the back of Fenris’s neck. "Not going to hurt you," he whispered. "I like my brother too much to do that."
Fenris snorted. That was, actually, the best reason Cormac could have offered. Fenris wouldn’t come to harm, because Cormac didn’t want to explain it to Artemis. He supposed that went the other way, too.
"It’s just going to be a little warm and a bit of a tingle. Just relax," Cormac murmured, bringing the warmth down into the floor, so it would radiate upward around Fenris, as a light trickle of electricity poured into the spot he was rubbing on the back of Fenris’s neck.
Anders had touched him like this, once, Fenris thought, watching Anders get savagely ravished. And that was a combination of ideas that was doing him no good at all. The idea of Anders bent over and making those sounds for him, stroking the lines on his thighs with electricity and the blue glow of Justice… He swallowed and shifted uncomfortably.
"You all right? It’s not too warm, is it?" Cormac asked, hand moving up to rub against the side of Fenris’s head, just behind his ear.
Fenris grunted a non-answer, ear twitching against Cormac’s hand. He certainly was too warm but not because of Cormac. Not directly, anyway. He closed his eyes, tried to push aside thoughts of glowy mages and their sparkle-fingers, but this other glowy mage with his sparkle-fingers was not helping after all. Fenris gave it another minute before pulling away from Cormac’s hand, a frustrated sigh caught in his throat. "This is not working," he said.
"I could try to knock you out more directly," Natia offered. "That’s… probably a much worse idea, but it’s there. The headache you wake up to is not fun, but at least we have a healer."
"Please don’t bludgeon me into sleep," Fenris sighed, even as he tucked that option away for later, just in case.
"Don’t worry, Fen. I only bludgeon people who ask for it. Or who are asking for it, if you get my meaning."
Fenris wasn’t sure how he felt about this dwarf calling him ‘Fen’. Artemis called him Fen.
"Getting lazy, Howe!" Anders taunted, laughter stuttering under the onslaught of thrusts that hadn’t slowed at all. "I know you can go faster. I know you can go fast enough that you just get one running right into the next. Don’t tell me you can’t do that any more…"
The memory, alone, was enough to push Nathaniel over the edge, again, and his body didn’t slow, still slamming his knob into that tight, slick heat he refused to admit he’d missed. Half-faded memories of Anders red-eyed and shaking, under him, grinning like a broken bottle, still taunting him, demanding more, pushing him further than he’d meant to go. But, it had always been so good, and this time was no exception, not that he would admit any of that to anyone. And this time, Anders was pushing him to please himself. Pushing him back to that place he couldn’t quite remember how to get to, without a lot more drink than he’d had. But, he focused on the feeling, the greasy squeezing around his knob, the jolts of current that shot through him from wherever Anders could land a — that wasn’t even just hands. The body beneath him was his to use — and that thought didn’t go where he wanted it to, so he let it pass. Justice was watching him, feeling him fuck Anders.
Justice was watching him. Watching without complaint, through Anders’s eyes, as Nathaniel pounded into the mage’s warm, inviting body. Justice made no move to stop him, that he could see. He was, he realised, fucking Justice, and Justice seemed to be liking it. A hot rush of shame lanced through him as he came again, harder than he had all night, Anders still clenched around him, trying to wring even more out of him.
Nathaniel paused a moment for breath, his bruising grip loosening on Anders’s hips, but Anders kept squirming under him, trying to goad him on. "You’re not done, are you?" Anders asked, twisting to peer at Nathaniel over his shoulder, still with that jagged, infuriating smile. "You’re slowing down in your old age, Howe. Should I take it easy on you?"
With a growl, Nathaniel shoved into him, still seeing sparks even though he felt none from Anders’s fingers. A part of him was insulted that Anders could still talk. "Maker, you’re a pain in my ass," he grumbled, only to regret his choice of words the next moment.
"Not right now I’m not, but I could be," Anders replied, arching into him. Nathaniel’s thrusts stuttered at that thought, and he spilled one more time, trembling with exhaustion. No. He was not nearly drunk enough for that, whether he was bedding the healer or not.
Nathaniel groaned. "Daylight. Once I’ve had daylight and several more drinks, you can try to convince me of that. But, there is not enough whiskey in this entire thaig to convince me that— that— flagpole belongs anywhere near my insides."
"Does hold a flag well, doesn’t it?" Anders laughed, quietly, and shoved Nathaniel off him. "Well, if you’re not going to finish me off, someone should."
"Isn’t it your boyfriend’s watch?" Nathaniel yawned, groping for a blanket and his dagger.
"Not my boyfriend. And he’s been watching." Anders cricked a finger at Cormac, then raised an eyebrow and added another finger to the gesture, as he eyed what he assumed to be Fenris. Inasmuch as there was light down here, it wasn’t on him or on Cormac, and the way it hung between them was just disruptive enough. Well, if that wasn’t Fenris, it was Anton, and Anton wouldn’t— ah, no. It was Fenris. There was the sound of Anton’s snoring again.
"Where did you leave my whiskey?" Nathaniel demanded. "Don’t tell me that. Don’t tell me anyone saw that. No one’s ever seen that!"
"Except that one time on Solona’s desk," Anders reminded him, and Nathaniel just groaned.