[ Master Post ]
Title: Rhapsody in Ass Major – Chapter 349
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Cormac Hawke ♂, Anders ♂, Bethany Hawke ♀
Rating: E (L3 N4 S4 V0 D0)
Warnings: Angst, the internet is for porn, Bethy no, interruptions
Notes: Cormac has terrible ideas, but sometimes Anders likes them. Sometimes those ideas do not quite go according to plan.
When Cormac was in the middle of pulling off his robes, Anders spoke again. "And Cormac? Everything’s shit, and I’m probably going to cry more, and I don’t want to talk about it. I just want you to fuck me until I stop caring."
Cormac draped his robes over the footboard and studied Anders, for a long moment, concern clear in his eyes. "I can do that. At least I hope I can do that. If I can’t do that, I’m blaming the potion." He paused. "Just… tell me if I need to stop?"
"And, I don’t know, don’t… vanish for a week, if this doesn’t go as planned?"
"Shit, Cormac, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—"
"Nope. No sorry. You were sorry enough when it happened. I just— you took years off my life. Can we not do that again?" Cormac stroked Anders’s hair, twisting around his fingers.
"If I have to go— If Justice has to take care of me, for a while, will you be here, when I come back?" Anders asked, blinking up at Cormac.
"I’d rather you didn’t have to go, in the first place," Cormac admitted. "But, unless he tells me I have to leave — like last time — I’m not really going further than the kitchen, unless the city catches fire again. You know I don’t mind him all that much. He can write, I can blot. We’ll make sure there’s something for you to come back to."
Anders started to shake, eyes tearing up. "Thank you."
"Thank nothing. Entirely selfish. No one touches me the way you do." Cormac leaned down to kiss Anders’s cheek.
"That’s sweet and all," Anders choked out, tears dribbling down over the bridge of his nose, "but I’m pretty sure that’s not where you were going to put your mouth."
"Are you so sure of that? I mean, I could be convinced—" Cormac yelped as Anders pinched his hip, but he moved, then, crawling down the bed to settle himself between Anders’s legs. "This is the ass I dreamed of, under that coat, you know." He nibbled at the curve of muscle, still rambling as he kissed and bit one cheek and then the other. "First time I laid eyes on you, it was from behind. And then you turned around and laid that glowy blue righteous wrath on me? I was sold. And then—" He darted his tongue against Anders’s hole, and Anders sucked in a sharp breath. "—then you proved it was all the coat, and I was still hooked. I mean, gorgeous revolutionary wants to share a bed with me? Yes, please." Cormac moaned, quietly, lapping at the crack of Anders’s ass. "But, this is the ass that coat pretended to be."
"It, ah—" Anders gasped, pressing back against Cormac’s tongue. "It is fitting a bit better, lately."
"It’s getting tight in the shoulders. I’ll buy you a new one." Cormac murmured, and Anders wasn’t sure if he heard the words or felt them. And really, Cormac figured he’d buy three, but he wouldn’t say it or Anders would object. One just like the one he had, maybe another in black, and the third in Warden colours.
That was the last thought either of them had about the coat, as Cormac gave his full attention to the glorious Warden ass under his tongue, the rich, earthy flavour heavy in his mouth, as he licked at the muscled edge of Anders’s hole. Anders writhed and chewed at the sheets, stifling the sounds he thought he might make. That obscene tension was still in him, the one that wouldn’t let him just relax into the pleasure and be swept away. Instead he fought the urge to cry out his approval, even as his hips twitched, riding Cormac’s tongue. But, it was Cormac’s thumb, rubbing hard behind his balls, that broke his disciplined silence.
First, a wordless whine of desperation, and then a cascade of words in its wake. "Take me, fuck me, put yourself inside me— I want you, Cormac! I want you to fill me — I need it! I need everything you’ll give me! Please! Make me warm. Fill me up until I can’t hold any more and fuck it back out of me. I want you…"
Cormac licked the curve of Anders’s tailbone, kissed his way along that long ridge of spine, until he could stretch no further. "Well, if that’s what you want, you might’ve warned me to load up on tea first," Cormac joked. "But, we can improvise."
Horror clattered through Anders’s mind as he realised what he’d said, but Cormac seemed just as willing to try as he’d been the first time, even after everything. "You’d… do that?"
"Maybe not something I’d have thought of, but you’re begging me for it, and I don’t see the harm in it. Besides, I saw you after Messere Howe gave you a taste. That conversation wasn’t as quiet as you thought, and I could taste it on you, after." Cormac nibbled at the flesh beside Anders’s spine. "A little strong, but I’m not sorry I stuck my tongue in it. Not with the noises you were making."
Anders pressed his face against the bed. "Can you please not remind me you stuck your tongue in that?"
"And I thought you liked it when I licked you there!" Cormac kissed his way back down Anders’s back.
"That’s hardly the point!"
"On the contrary, I think that’s nearly the whole of the point." Cormac licked into the crack of Anders’s ass again. "That and the fact I like the way you taste. And I like the way I taste inside you even better. And just maybe I wanted to know what you tasted like full of someone else, too. But, those sounds you made—" He thrust his tongue against Anders’s hole, licking into it like he never meant to surface. "The way you fluttered and flexed around my tongue trying to keep it all in— Fuck, Anders, I could feel myself trying to get hard again. I wanted to eat you out and fuck you again. I wanted to fuck you until I passed out still buried inside you. I wanted to fuck you like you fuck me."
And that, really, left Anders wondering if his objections had any substance. Yes, it was disgusting, but he wasn’t on the disgusting end, and Cormac didn’t seem bothered. More than that, Cormac seemed enthusiastic — just as enamoured of the idea as he’d seemed at the time. His hips were rolling again, shoving him back against Cormac’s face, against that tongue he was so willing to accept, wherever Cormac wanted to put it. He writhed, deciding finally that it really wasn’t his business to be disgusted for Cormac.
"Do it," Anders panted. "Take me like that. Fuck me like that, tonight. The potion’s in the drawer. I want it. I want you."
A few more flicks of tongue and Anders was left making tiny pleading sounds against the sheets, as Cormac leaned back to get the potion from the drawer. As he set the empty bottle aside, he studied the curve of Anders’s back. "You all right?"
"The only problem I have is that you’re not fucking me yet," Anders huffed, glaring over his shoulder.
"Yeah?" Cormac ran a finger teasingly along the wet trail his tongue had left behind. "You want me to fill you until you can’t hold it, fuck it out of you, and suck it off your balls?"
A raw and broken sound spilled out of Anders, followed by a few seconds of incoherent pleading, before his eyes focused again. "I thought you said you didn’t drink the tea…"
Cormac grinned. "Like I said. We’ll improvise. Your aim’s better than mine. You’re a healer. You can summon water, can’t you?"
"Little amounts — what—?" Anders twisted, propping himself on an elbow to look at Cormac.
"I’ll fill you with as much water as you put in me." Cormac’s eyebrows wiggled over a smug smirk.
"You’re a lunatic," Anders breathed, reverence breaking across his features. "You’re also going to need to drink the tea after this, because I’m not really sure how much of that water is actually going to come out of you, if I try that. Summoning gets a little… Let’s just say it gets lazy if I stop paying attention. I won’t miss, but I might wring you dry."
"You expect to stop paying attention?" Cormac teased.
"I expect to forget my own name." Anders grinned back, finally.
Cormac flicked a hand and dropped a chunk of ice into the pitcher on the bedside table. "For later, when I need it." He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Anders, resting his cheek against Anders’s back. "You want it like this, or do you want to move first?" he asked.
Anders untwisted himself, nervously kneading the sheets. "Just like this."
"Grease?" Cormac asked, pressing a kiss between Anders’s hips, before he straightened up and settled his knob in the crack of Anders’s well-muscled ass.
"I figured I’d wait until you stopped licking," Anders teased, taking a deep breath. "Done."
Cormac pressed in, slow and unceasing, and Anders opened easily for him. Yet another skill he knew better than to ask after. "Have I ever told you how much I like the way you feel, inside? Creators, if this is anything like what you get from me, it’s no wonder you keep me around."
A breathy laugh slipped out of Anders, and he shoved back against Cormac. "You going to rhapsodise about my ass or are you going to do something useful?"
Cormac felt the touch of Anders’s magic rushing through him, and then a sudden freezing weight between his hips. "Oh, shit, that’s cold! I should give it to you just like this, for that! It’s freezing! Anders! What the fuck!"
"I said my aim was good! I didn’t promise anything else!" Anders pressed his face against the sheets, embarrassed and laughing.
"Andraste’s tits aflame, I think that’s the least sexy thing you’ve ever done to me…" Cormac shivered and curled forward over Anders’s back, grinding in, deep and hard. "It’s a good thing I drank the potion before we got started."
"You’re the one who came up with the idea! Do I need to warm it up for you, next time?" Anders teased.
"Yes!?" Cormac squeaked, trying to find a rhythm he could hold, while full of cold water. After several long and distracted moments, his own magic came back to him, and he laid a warming hand on himself, before relaxing back into a more comfortable pace. Or as comfortable a pace as he could manage under the circumstances. This was not, all told, a condition in which he tended to be engaging in this sort of thing. He argued with himself, trying to convince his body he actually meant what he was demanding of it.
"This isn’t working," he admitted finally. "I can’t—" The sentence cut off in a strangled sound as Anders pressed sparking fingers against him.
"It’ll work," Anders promised, sending another charge through Cormac.
"That feels," Cormac panted, "so good. Again. More."
"Come on, Cormac." Another spark. "Fill me up. Make me warm."
Another spark ripped a confused sound out of Cormac, and he shuddered, clinging to Anders, as the water rushed out of him. He panted and whimpered, hips rolling as the dizzying sensation rushed through him — lust and relief, a powerful need for more. Under him, Anders howled with raw desire, hips canting up to meet him, to take him in, to accept what he gave and beg for more.
"Please, please!" Anders’s voice was ragged, his entire body taut and tuned so every touch felt like a desire demon’s fingers under his skin. His back bowed, fingers clutching at the sheets until his knuckles were white.
The white-hot coil of lust between Cormac’s hips finally sprung, leaving him open-mouthed and dazed as he emptied a more usual fluid into Anders, as well. "Oh, fuck. Oh, Anders!"
A knock at the door cut into their passions. "Anders, honey? Awful loud. You all right?" Bethany called, from the other side of the door.
"Fine," Anders panted, and then louder so she could hear him. "Fine! Sorry! I’ll—" He trailed off in a needy moan, and then tried again. "I’ll stop!"
"No, no! It’s delightful to finally hear you enjoying yourself! I’m just making sure you’re not dying or anything!" Bethany laughed, easily.
"If I die from this, I don’t think I’ll be too upset about it!" Anders called back, his entire face reddening. This was exactly why he was so quiet for so many years. Templars and other people’s little sisters. He supposed he was grateful it was Bethany and not Carver. Another thought occurred to him. "Is Anton—?"
"No, he’s out with the Orlesians, tonight. And I don’t think Cullen’s coming home, either. It’s just me and Bodhan, and I don’t think you could pay him enough to come upstairs." Anders could hear the smile in Bethany’s voice. "If my brother breaks anything you can’t fix by yourself, I’m just down the hall." She patted the door, soundly, and her footsteps retreated.
Cormac breathed a fart noise against the hands clapped over his mouth. "That was my sister."
"That was your sister," Anders agreed, back shaking with embarrassed laughter, as he pressed his face down into the bed.
"Are you okay?" Cormac asked, between mortified chuckles. "Do you want to stop?"
"Cormac, I’m so hard I think I’m going to die from it. Don’t you dare stop. I’ll send your sister flowers in the morning. With an apology. And earplugs." Anders groaned and covered his face with one hand.
"Well, if we’re going to keep going, you should know I meant it. I’ll fill you up as many times as you give me the water to do it with. Just… less cold, next time?"
"Not really a skill I’ve had much cause to practise, I’m afraid," Anders laughed again. "You want me to try again? You want to give me more?"
"Shit, yes," Cormac panted, one hand sliding down from Anders’s hip to toy with Anders’s throbbing knob.
Hours later, the bitter taste of orichalcum thick in Cormac’s sweat, he drove himself into Anders again and again, revelling in both the gurgling liquid sounds and in the raw-throated pleas for more that Anders still managed, every few thrusts. His warm hand caressed Anders’s swollen belly, with just enough pressure that the water dribbled out, running down the inside of Anders’s thighs in a heated trickle. He’d have to clean the bed, before they could sleep in it, but the radiant joy emanating from Anders made it worthwhile.
"Again," Anders demanded, barely able to form words. "Just once more. Just one."
"Just one?" Cormac teased, thighs trembling with effort, stomach rolling from the second potion he likely shouldn’t have had. "Not three or four more?"
"Fuck, Cormac, please!" Anders sobbed, so close to the edge, his body fucked out and exhausted, in a way he hadn’t been in a very long time. Another few thrusts, a crackle of electricity along his shaft, and his knob pulsed painfully as the pleasure wracked his body. His shoulders shook as he wept into the already-damp sheets under his cheek, the relief more profound than anything he’d felt all night. The fact that Cormac had given him this, that Cormac was still here, still offering more — there was something horribly wrong with both of them, he decided, but at least they were together.