[ Master Post ]
Title: Rhapsody in Ass Major – Chapter 348
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Cormac Hawke ♂, Anders ♂
Rating: E (L3 N4 S4 V0 D0)
Warnings: Angst, the internet is for porn
Notes: Anders is having an off day. Good thing Cormac’s there to solve this problem.
Hearing the door open and shut, Cormac looked up from his papers just in time for the whole of his vision to be occupied by Anders hauling him up into a kiss. The quill dropped from his fingers, bouncing off the chair — and Artie was going to kill him for that, the next time he was over. But, now, right now, he wrapped his legs around Anders’s waist for balance, as Anders kissed him so hard he thought his lips might bleed, whimpering desperately into his mouth. And those were the wrong sounds. Those were not the sounds he loved to hear, when Anders could be eased and teased into them.
"Hey," Cormac breathed, Anders’s tongue held gently in his teeth. "You okay?"
Anders pulled his tongue back, resting his forehead on Cormac’s. "Take me," he whispered. "Take me, fuck me, ravish me. I need you, Cormac. I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me so hard there is nothing in my world but you."
"Hey, hey, pretty thing. First? Yes. If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do." Cormac lifted a hand and ran it through Anders’s hair, finding it already untied and spilling loosely over his shoulders. "But, this isn’t like you. What happened?"
"No, not now," Anders insisted, voice cracking. "Talk later. Can’t talk now. Don’t want to talk now. Just want you. Please, Cormac."
"Shh." Cormac continued to stroke Anders’s hair. "Now. Right now," he agreed. "Let me down so I can help you out of that. I can feel your hands shaking."
Anders nodded, offering support until Cormac’s feet touched the floor again. His hands clenched and unclenched in Cormac’s robes, and a thousand things flashed across his eyes, none of them making it out of his mouth, and he let Cormac back him toward the wall, relaxing a bit as his back bumped it.
"Whatever this is, is it magic?" Cormac asked, as his fingers made quick work of the rings holding Anders’s coat shut.
Anders shook his head, still not daring to speak again, arching as Cormac eased the coat off him, tugging to get it off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.
"Are you hurt at all?" Cormac asked, picking open the laces of Anders’s trousers. "Anywhere I shouldn’t touch, other than the usual?"
That question sank in deeper, and Anders’s eyes focused. He tipped Cormac’s head up, to look him in the eyes. "No. I promise. No one’s touched me."
Which wasn’t the question Cormac asked, but it was the answer he’d implied, and he supposed that distinction was fair. Anders was very obviously not all right, but he hadn’t been physically harmed, and as far as he knew, he hadn’t been compelled. Cormac knelt, tugging Anders’s trousers down with him. Looking up, he unbuckled Anders’s boots. "Tell me, sweet thing. Tell me what you want from me."
"Take me," Anders said again, shivering against the wall as Cormac pulled his boots off. "Make me forget, even for a little while. The only thing I want is you."
Cormac pressed kisses to Anders’s thighs, rubbing his cheek against Anders’s flaccid length, before he licked it into his mouth, with a contented hum. Above him, Anders burst into tears. Cormac tried to pull back and look up, but Anders’s hand caught him, fingers sliding into his hair. Anders didn’t pull, but even the gentle touch on the back of Cormac’s head was enough to make the point, and Cormac stayed right where he was, sucking gently, hands caressing Anders’s thighs.
Anders moaned, raggedly, between racking sobs, his other hand pressed to the side of his tear-streaked face, as he stared down the wall. He didn’t want to see Cormac looking at him. Not right now. He didn’t want to be seen at all, just swept away with pleasure until nothing else mattered, until his own vanity and the pooling heat between his hips blocked out the sun itself. He remembered being beautiful, before all the scars; remembered being desirable, always wanted and always ready — and the rest of that thought got shoved away before it could catch, but a sharp gasp marked its passing.
He remembered how Karl’s lips had felt around him, and his legs trembled, hand shifting to cover his mouth, to block in the raw grief that rushed up from his lungs. Cormac felt so different, but no less perfect. It was as if he’d found a different melody to the rhythm of the blood in Anders’ veins, every suck, every flick of tongue just when Anders wanted it most, but the details entirely changed. Cormac had his own patterns, and Anders never ceased to be amazed how well those worked with his own.
And now, the warmth rose in him, the pleasure wending, serpentine, through his flesh. Here was Cormac, wonderful, strong, kind Cormac, kneeling before him, tenderly stroking him, nuzzling at his belly as if he had meaning, serenely sucking and swallowing around his knob. This was desire. This was what he loved. This was what he didn’t know how to live without. Cormac wanted him, just as he was; had been concerned for him, while stripping his clothes off. Cormac wanted him enough to care about his health and safety. Wanted him not just now, but tomorrow, and the day after, and the month after. An honest, beautiful, complex lust they could share as long as they both wanted. As long as they survived, anyway — but he pushed that thought back. Cormac’s mouth was on him, warm and wet and wonderful.
Cormac sucked, making little warm sounds that he licked into the flesh in his mouth, as it began to stir against his tongue. He heard the sobs slow, above him, into little choked-off sounds of pleasure, as he worked his talents on this body he adored. He backed off, a little at a time, as his mouth filled, the thick scent of Anders occupying less of every breath, as he did, and Cormac counted that as a loss. A few tugs, now that Anders had regained his wits, and the trousers finally came off, instead of just down, Cormac tossing them across the room to be dealt with later.
Anders tugged at his hair, and Cormac rose up, slowly and sloppily, lusty noises vibrating down Anders’s finally almost-glorious flagpole, as he reluctantly let it pass from his lips. Pressing himself close, he took a moment to wipe his beard, before licking his way up Anders’s chest, pushing the tunic up as he went. Anders finally had to let go of Cormac’s hair, as Cormac pulled the tunic off him, throwing it in roughly the same direction his trousers had gone.
"Tell me," Cormac purred around Anders’s unscarred nipple as he pressed his thigh between Anders’s legs. It was an awkward position, and one that didn’t last long, but the shudder that ran through Anders’s body was worth it. "Tell me," he said again, body pressed tight against Anders, teeth nibbling at Anders’s collarbone, Anders’s strong arms clutching him close, and the base of the flagpole tucked into the inner curve of his hip, where he could feel every beat of Anders’s heart in his bones, the heavy thudding against his chest just a little out of time to the throb against his hip.
"Take me," Anders begged, pressing his face against Cormac’s hair. "Throw me down, force me open, fill me up. Make me warm. I’m cold, Cormac. I’m cold, and I’m empty, and I don’t want to be alone again."
"You’ll never be alone again," Cormac promised. "This city would have to kill us all. I’m not going anywhere. And if I die, Justice had better make room, because I’m not leaving you and Fenris to take care of my brother alone."
"That might be a little more inside me than I really want you, Cormac," Anders joked, huffing out a weak laugh.
"Then I guess you’d better make sure I don’t die, healer!" Cormac laughed against Anders’s neck.
"But the rest…" Anders sounded like he’d started to second-guess himself.
Cormac stepped back, careful not to pull out of Anders’s encircling arms, but just to put space between them. He looked up. "Offer yourself to me, pretty thing. Show me how you want me to take you. And tell me you left one of those potions somewhere in this room, and I don’t have to go downstairs, if I expect to keep up with you."
"It’s in the dildo drawer." A small, sly smile lifted the corners of Anders’s lips. "And how I want you? I … I can’t decide." The nervousness still clung to him.
"I think you know exactly what you want, and there’s something you’re not telling me." Cormac tugged the ends of Anders’s hair, pulling him down into a long, slow kiss. "What if I put you down on your knees and I kiss your ass like that, hmm? Tease you until you forget how to speak. Taste your insides. You know how hard just the taste of you makes me. You know I love to fuck you full and lick it out. I love the way we taste, together."
"Yes," Anders breathed, dizzy at the thought. "Yes, fuck, yes!"
"Will you beg for me, while I do it? Will you moan and whimper, like you did for me when I licked Messere Howe out of your hole?" Cormac backed away, hands on Anders’s arms, leading him toward the bed.
"Ohh, fuck—" Anders groaned, looking away. "I don’t— I’m sorry—"
"Sorry about what?" Cormac asked, honestly confused.
"Sorry you had to see that. Sorry I dragged you into it. More sorry I dragged Fenris into it…"
"I am absolutely not sorry about any of it. Maker’s tits and bits, Anders, watching him ream you while you sucked yourself off? Why is it, after all these years, I didn’t know you could do that?"
"Because I’m not really that flexible any more, and it’s a good thing I’m a healer?" Anders rubbed a hand over his face. "But, really, that wasn’t…? I don’t want to be like that, but I am. I was so afraid, but I couldn’t stop. I was afraid if we woke you up, you’d never touch me again, but I wanted you to see it. I wanted you to know."
"I, ah… I hope I cleared up that misconception?" Cormac eyed Anders like there was a punchline he’d missed somewhere, and he was waiting for Anders to explain the joke.
Anders covered his face. "I am still sorry about the bedroll."
"Okay, that you can be sorry about." Cormac chuckled. "But, not the rest. That was incredible. As soon as I figured out what was going on — that you were enjoying him — I wanted to touch you more than ever. I wanted to give you all of those things."
"I didn’t want to ask. I wanted to believe I’d had it all out with Nate, and I was done. That it wasn’t something I wanted any more." Anders slid his arms around Cormac again, resting his chin on the top of Cormac’s head. "It’s not something I should be. It’s not something I should want."
"And I probably shouldn’t want you to fuck my ass inside out and then suck on it, but hey, I do." Cormac shrugged. "In fact, I think that sounds like the hottest bad idea I’ve had this month."
Anders choked a few times before the laugh started. "You have a wonderful sense of perspective, Cormac. What would I do without you?"
"Sulk more. Probably work yourself to death." Cormac pinched Anders’s ass, and Anders squeaked, hips jerking forward. "Now, didn’t I just finish promising to put my tongue to good use, until you decide how you actually want me?"