[ Master Post ]
Title: Rhapsody in Ass Major – Chapter 341
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Artemis Hawke ♂, Fenris ♂
Rating: E (L2 N4 S4 V0 D0)
Warnings: Smut, dick jokes
Notes: Fenris decides he’s rather interested in enjoying his mage’s staff. Artie decides it’s not the worst idea that’s happened in their bedroom.
Later that night, Fenris still found himself unable to shake the thought of Artemis’s knob buried inside him. On the one hand, he hadn’t much appreciated either of the toys Artemis had used for that purpose, but on the other, he’d profoundly enjoyed his mage’s fingers. Repeatedly. Perhaps it was time to try something new. As he closed the bedroom door behind them, memories of Artemis taking Cormac, thrusting desperately into Anders, rushed into his head, and he tried to imagine himself in those positions, with Artemis making those rapturous faces above him.
Still, something tugged at the edges of his consciousness, some dull warning. But, there were so many things he’d come to enjoy that had started with so much worse than that. This was barely a suggestion that something might be wrong with this idea — nothing like the floods of memory and horror that had come with some other ideas. It was probably nothing — probably something he’d seen happen, once, in some foul and depraved Tevinter holding. Sometimes he wished he could remember, just so he’d know. Just so these things couldn’t creep up like this, hinting at things much more horrific than they turned out to be, not that most of them weren’t utterly appalling.
"Will you put your rod to me, my mage?" he teased, wrapping his arms around Artemis from behind, hands tugging at the clothing in his way. "Shall I spread my legs for your staff?" He cackled, quietly against Artemis’s shoulder, struck with the ridiculousness of all the sexual humour surrounding mages. Still, his own words prickled on the back of his neck, like an uninvited hand.
Fenris could feel Artemis’s chuckle as much as hear it. "You were serious about that, hmm?" Artie asked in a low rumble. He twisted in Fenris’s arms to face him, hands skimming up Fenris’s sides, tracing the planes of his body through the fabric. "About experiencing the magic of my staff?" He couldn’t quite say that with a straight face.
"Incredibly serious," Fenris answered, twisting to nip under Artemis’s chin, tasting the soft skin there and the hint of stubble. "Deathly serious."
"Whatever Messere Elf wishes." Artie grinned, bending to press their lips together instead. Probably safer, since neither of them could make ‘staff’ or ‘swording’ puns with their lips occupied. Hands grappled with buckles, laces, and fabric until palms pressed to warm skin.
"Messere Elf doesn’t know what he’s doing," Fenris admitted, hands full of warm, firm mage-bottom. "I … assume you have done enough of this to have an idea of how to make it work?" He felt like a fool, suddenly. All these years, he’d learnt every little nuance, every twitch, every sound Artemis could make for him, but Artemis was very particular about how he wanted to be had, and Fenris was absolutely certain that wasn’t the way he wanted it for himself. "I am not… The things we do, I do not think I would enjoy them from the other side. Well, most of them. Some of them I already quite like." He licked and nibbled under Artemis’s chin.
A nervous laugh stuck in Artie’s throat. "No, no, even I had to work myself up to that level," he said. He cradled Fenris’s cheeks in his hands, thumbs smoothing over sharp cheekbones under too-large eyes. For all that Fenris knew how to mask his emotions, knew how to keep his face stoic through Wicked Grace, when his shields fell and when he let his guard down, those big green eyes said everything he was thinking. Right now, those eyes said he was nervous.
Artemis pressed a kiss to the bridge of Fenris’s nose. "We’ll take our time," he murmured. "I don’t plan on being anywhere in the morning. Possibly even in the afternoon." Another soft kiss pressed to Fenris’s lips. "I don’t have too much experience from this end, so we can fumble through it together."
Maker, he hoped he didn’t fumble too badly. He wasn’t used to being the one in control. He didn’t like being the one in control. Too many variables. Too many things that could go wrong. Too many—
Too many thoughts in his head. He could worry later.
A mischievous smirk was Fenris’s only warning before Artie was scooping him up and tossing him onto the bed. He bounced, a mixture of confusion and betrayal darting across his face, before the laugh caught up with him. "Yes, I suppose I do that to you a lot, don’t I?" he teased, holding out his hand in invitation. This would be an interesting experience, no matter what happened. He was sure of that.
"I wonder if I will be as lovely for you as you are for me." And that was still a strange thought, for him, that this man, this mage, had seen past the lyrium laid into his flesh and regarded him as a person, first, and then as a lover and a husband. But, that lust, instead of fear, had seemed to be his initial impression, despite the somewhat less than entirely flattering circumstances of their first meeting. All these years, and even now, the little flirtations were still making themselves known to him. But, the thought of himself reacting as Artemis did to him, or as Anders had to either of them… it was utterly foreign.
But, he knew the way he writhed on Artemis’s fingers was little different to the way Artemis writhed on his. And that was definitely a tempting thought… Artemis’s fingers. "Come to me, Amatus. Give me your fingers, first. Give me your fingers and then show me the pleasures of your staff." He couldn’t quite keep the smile off his face, feeling a little foolish at the whole thing.
Artie couldn’t quite keep the smile off his face, either, letting out an amused snort. He’d heard worse pick-up lines, some even from Fenris. "My fingers, hmm?" he purred, kneeling on the bed next to Fenris and shuffling closer on his knees. He ghosted the tip of one finger down Fenris’s chest, his taut stomach, just to feel the muscles tighten under his touch. "I know exactly how much you love that, from the delicious sounds you make."
The touch of one finger became four, then the press of a palm with four fingers and a thumb. Artemis circled the soft skin of Fenris’s belly until those muscles stopped twitching at his touch, until he felt his elf relax back against the bed. Artemis thought of a time years ago, in his family’s basement and in Anders’s bed, Anders massaging the tension from Artie’s legs and back before moving on to more… enjoyable activities. Artie wasn’t blessed — or cursed — with a flagpole, but Fenris was an elf. Size was still a factor.
Artie’s lips replaced his hand on Fenris’s skin, and that hand trailed down to Fenris’s thigh instead, tracing the shapes of muscles and of lyrium lines he knew so well.
Fenris reached out and tucked Artemis’s hair behind his ear. "I love you," he breathed, squeezing the rounded curve of that ear in his fingers. Those little differences were still the things that caught his eye — rounded ears, those little bits of accent fluff, those small blue eyes that always looked at him with such adoration. What had he done to deserve this? What had he done, so he could keep doing it?
His fingers slid through Artemis’s hair, gently stroking, though he ached to tug at it. He fought the urge to wrench this beautiful mage back by the hair and ravish him — which wasn’t that unusual in their bedroom, really, but tonight was meant for something different — something he hoped to enjoy just as much. And that was the thing, he thought, tracing the back of Artie’s leg with his foot, he wanted to enjoy it — not just wanted to enjoy himself, but wanted to enjoy this specific thing. Wanted to enjoy being able to drift off to sleep, after, with some bit of his mage still inside him. It sounded wonderful. Artemis always made it look so easy and so pleasurable. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered why it had taken him so long to try this.
"Do you know how beautiful you are?" he asked, just to keep talking. Artemis always enjoyed it when he spoke, even if he was reciting Tevinter gross receipts statutes.
"Doesn’t hurt to be reminded," Artemis replied, smiling against Fenris’s hipbone before giving it a teasing nip. Nudging the insides of Fenris’s knees, Artemis shifted until he knelt between them. This part, at least, was familiar, the taste of Fenris’s skin, the flexing of Fenris’s thighs under his hands. The change in Fenris’s breathing and the tiny squirms he was trying to hold back told Artemis that his elf was getting impatient. A bit impatient was, Artie decided, exactly where he liked him.
Finally, Artie kissed the tip of Fenris’s knob, shivering at the lyrium’s sharp taste. He licked and kissed a line down Fenris’s knob to mouth at his balls, the pad of his thumb circling the tight ring of muscle below.
Slowly. He would take this slowly this time, until his elf cursed and begged for more. Yes. That thought was terribly appealing. "Amo te," Artie murmured, nuzzling the crease of Fenris’s groin. His accent was, he thought, getting better, and he loved the way Fenris’s laugh-lines crinkled when he fumbled to speak Tevene.
"Te ardeo," Fenris gasped, toes curling. "Especially when you do that…"
This was the easy part. This he knew how to do — to let this mage kneel before him and stroke him, taste him, make him, for a moment, regret the lyrium in his skin just a little less. Like this, there was some purpose to it, other than pain. The intensity of the sensation was enough to make him forget all manner of things, and with the runes keeping the worst of it in check, it was just enough raw pleasure to leave him wanting more. Lower lip caught in his teeth, he panted, watching Artemis lick and nuzzle him.
"Do you mean to tease me, until I plead for you?" Fenris joked. "I assure you it will not be possible, unless I wish it." He knew it was true. As much as he gave, as much as he showed his desire to this mage, to his mage, it was because he wanted it known. He wanted to expose the depth of his lusts to the man who had given them to him. And mostly, he liked the way Artemis smiled, when he squirmed. "And what I wish is for you to come up here and kiss me, again, before we get any further."
"As you wish, messere," Artemis hummed. He gave Fenris’s knob one last, teasing lick before crawling up over him, holding himself on his elbows over his husband. Fenris’s emotions shown in his eyes, but in that moment, so did Artemis’s: adoration. It was the blind, stupid kind of adoration that was perfectly fine with being blind and stupid, so long as the object of its affection were there.
Artemis kissed him sweetly, softly, the kind of lingering kiss they usually shared after the sex.
The kiss helped quite a bit, giving Fenris something more to hold on to, something he could understand, no matter what else they were doing. Not that he struggled with blowjobs, but this seemed more solid, somehow, under the circumstances. This was a gentle reassurance that his mage would do him no harm — or at least no harm that wasn’t the result of some idiot accident, and the two of them were a bit prone to those. But, he couldn’t figure out why this unsettled him so, finally just attributing it to two dildoes gone wrong, in their earlier bedroom adventures.
"Artemis," he whispered, just to hear his lover’s — his husband’s — name. His eyes were uncertain, and his jaw determinedly set as he demanded more. "Touch me. Touch me inside — let me hold you." He rubbed his hand against Artemis’s chest, dimly blue fingertips just below the surface of the skin.
Artemis kept his movements slow, gentle, broadcasting to Fenris where his hands were going before they did. Fenris was still terribly tense under him, as much as he’d melted into that kiss, and Artie hoped his nervousness wasn’t rubbing off on Fenris.
Artemis murmured a spell, and grease filled his palm, if a bit more grease than he’d wanted. Some dribbled on the sheets, and Artie pursed his lips to keep from muttering a curse in Fenris’s ear. "Oops," he told Fenris with a crooked smile. "Oh well. Better too much than not enough."
A slick finger teased at Fenris’s entrance, circling the ring of muscle before pressing slowly in. Artie distracted his husband with another kiss.
Fenris melted into this kiss, as well, knees parting further as he wrapped a leg around Artemis’s side, heel catching on Artemis’s tailbone. His fingers played along his mage’s ribs, stroking the spaces between them, but not dipping in. He pulled Artemis down, held him closer, returning every twitch of that finger against his insides with a twitch of tongue, and wondered if this was what things were like for other couples. Not that he and Artemis didn’t have their share of kissing and cuddling, but it didn’t go like this, and generally he was more asleep than awake for it. Perhaps that was it. Maybe he should trust his instincts and just stop paying attention. That seemed to work well when he wrapped himself around his mage, in the middle of the night.
But, he was anything but tired, this time, and the feel of those fingers somewhere he didn’t have lyrium was just as enticing as ever. Would he part so easily for Artemis’s … staff? Would that be as good? He wanted it to be. He wanted to believe he’d love it just as much as their other lovers did. He wanted to believe, however ridiculous it seemed, that he could enjoy Artemis the way Artemis enjoyed him — that this was something else they could share.
Artemis purred into the kiss, at the touch of Fenris’s tongue. He twisted the finger inside his husband and slipped in a second. Fenris was tight, tighter than he would be, but the elf still opened around his fingers, hips twitching up in invitation. "Good?" Artemis hummed, fingers, from muscle memory, finding that angle and rhythm that made Fenris’s breathing deepen and his back arch.
It took Fenris a moment to realise the question might require more of an answer than the low groan that was the first sound out of him. "You know it is. Is this a school of magic, as well?" And that led straight into uncomfortable questions about what Artemis might have picked up from Anders, not that Fenris really had room to say much about that.
Artemis chuckled against Fenris’s lips. "What kind of magic would that be?" he murmured. "Sex magic? Ass magic? Oh, I could just hear Isabela’s comments on that…" And perhaps that wasn’t the sexiest talk to be having, but that was another theme with the two of them, awkward jokes and laughter. Yet Fenris’s chuckle cut into a gasp as Artie added another finger. Artie grinned against Fenris’s lips, breathed in his elf’s sounds.