Apr 292016
 

[ Master Post ]
Title: Rhapsody in Ass Major – Chapter 355
Co-Conspirator: TumblrMaverikLoki
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Cormac Hawke , Artemis Hawke , Bethany Hawke , Theron Mahariel , Gytha
Rating: T (L2 N0 S2 V0 D1)
Warnings: Hot Hawke-on-Hawke action, inappropriate sausage humour
Notes: A brief dalliance. Hot Hawke-on-Hawke action, interrupted.


Cormac closed the library door, behind them. They were far enough down the hall that no one would see which door they’d come through, and if all the doors were closed, no one would really come looking. It would be assumed they were wherever Fenris and Anders had gone. In the dim light, by the door, he pulled Artemis against him, tucking a leg between his brother’s thighs.

"Do you want me to lick you clean? Maybe to lick you until you dirty yourself, and then lick you clean again? What do you think, my lovely god? Should I start with kisses and work up to worshipping every inch of you with my tongue?" he purred, pressing a kiss to the corner of Artemis’s jaw.

An agreeable sound shivered past Artie’s lips. They could hear the party from here, the voices of family, friends, and Orlesians, all within shouting distance, and that knowledge just made Artemis press closer to his brother, rubbing against the leg between his. Hands led with the bite of fingernails as he traced the familiar shapes of his brother’s shoulders and back.

"Please," Artie breathed, tilting his chin up to expose his throat to Cormac’s lips and tongue.

Furniture. He was sure there was furniture in here, a couch even, but he didn’t want to peel himself off of Cormac long enough to look.

"I love you," Cormac breathed, tucking an arm under Artie’s bottom and lifting him. "I love all of you. Everything about you. Everything you have ever been and ever will be." A few steps took him across the room, where he pushed a table aside with his foot and sat down on the couch, pulling Artemis down over his lap. "Let me worship every bit of you." He nipped the side of Artie’s neck and followed with his tongue. "Let me taste you, outside and in."

He was getting sappy, he realised, but Artie always got him sappy. One hand darted between them — a third hand cupping the last uncovered velvet over Artie’s crotch. "And let me lick the sauce out of your sausage."

A laugh snorted out of Artemis. "My sausage is all yours tonight," he drawled, bending to pull Cormac’s earlobe between his teeth, tugging playfully. "As is the rest of me, if you like." Tilting Cormac’s head up with a hand on his beard, Artemis looked into blue eyes that were so much like his before pressing their lips together. Grinding into Cormac’s hand, Artie lost himself to his brother’s taste and touch and feel.

The door didn’t creak when it opened. "I hate to interrupt, but, Cormac, have you seen my book on Nevarran death rituals? I have a particularly obstinate Orlesian to disprove, and it’s not where I left it."

Cormac pulled Artie’s head to the side, hiding his brother’s face with his own. "Ah, which one? The one you wrote? Yeah, you’ve got four copies of it on the edge of your desk, upstairs." Tipping his head toward the stairs to the second level, he collided with Artie’s cheek and ran a soothing hand down the back of his brother’s head.

As long as she didn’t get a good look, they’d be fine. He’d pass it off as messing around with some Orlesian, if she asked, later. There was no way he could let her see this was Artemis with him.

"Why aren’t the two of you downstairs with your better halves?" Bethany asked, as she swept past, heading for the stairs.

Cormac’s cheeks darkened, eyes squeezing shut. "They’re doing something, er… messy. We were going to join them, but you know how he gets. Drunk. Upset. We came in here so he wouldn’t tidy the Orlesians into oblivion."

Artie was frozen, eyes wide and unseeing as he stared at the back of the couch. No. Nope. That wasn’t his sister. His sister hadn’t just… Why didn’t she sound surprised?

"Ah!" Bethany said, a tiny exclamation of victory when she found the book she was looking for. "There we are. Artie, darling, please try not to reorganise the room while you’re here. I know you hate the way I arrange my books, but it makes more sense to me, and I’m the one using them."

Artemis tried to talk, but all that came out at first were high-pitched squeaks. "Of course, Bethy," he finally managed, hearing the click of her heels as she walked by.

"If anybody asks, we’re with Anders!" Cormac called after her, as the door swung shut.

And then he panicked. The shaking started low, one heel knocking incessantly against the floor, as he tried to figure out how to handle any of that. That had been his sister. Bethany had just walked in on Artemis kissing him — and that was clearly Artie kissing him, and not the other way, since Artie was in his lap. There had been no surprise at all in her reaction, but she was so very difficult to get a reaction from at all, until she started laying down the nightmares. And he was very glad, he realised, hands clutching and kneading at Artie’s shirt, that she hadn’t done just that.

"Tell me that did not just happen," Artie asked, his voice too calm, almost flat. "Tell me we’re in the Fade or something and that some demon has an awful sense of humour." He unclenched enough to sit back on his brother’s lap, eyes round and face grey as he looked at Cormac to see how he was taking this.

"I’m sorry," Cormac breathed, eyes just as wide, and then a smile cracked his face. "Wait, wait. You know what else she saw? She saw you giving the Orlesian tongue to Carver, at the funeral. And at least some of that thing with Cullen, that one time. I just told her you were drunk and upset. She can’t possibly think it’s more than just that." He laughed. "Which, I’m still sorry, but that’s a lot less horrible for either of us, I think. If she just thinks you’re being hopelessly drunk, it’s not flattering, but it’s not going to get us killed."

Artemis groaned weakly, dropping his forehead onto Cormac’s shoulder. "And now I have to act drunk, don’t I. How do I act when I’m drunk? Right. Like a horny idiot." He hadn’t seen Bethany’s face so he couldn’t gauge her reaction. Even if he had, she was difficult to read. He didn’t think she’d buy that, not really, but it was worth a shot. "So… earthquakes would probably be a bad idea, after that." As disappointing as that was in theory, in reality Artie didn’t think he could get it up again after that.

"Not if I go get Theron," Cormac purred. "Two brothers sneaking off with a handsome Dalesman? You can’t convince me Theron, of all of them, hasn’t figured it out. Not after your wedding. Not after he got to you right after I did." His hands rubbed Artie’s thighs, soothingly. "And maybe you get a little loose when you’re drunk, but I don’t think you’ve done anything all that regrettable, really. I’d think your regrets might lay in not remembering things much more than doing them."

Artie’s face went from grey to green. "No," Artemis said, drawing out the word, "it’s very much what I do that I regret. Not remembering just tends to make it worse." As he spoke, however, he climbed off of Cormac’s lap, sifting frantically through memories of Theron, of words and glances and touches. Did he know? Maker. Then who else knew?

Carver already suspected…

"And now I need a drink," Artie decided. "And possibly a bucket."

Cormac looked up at his brother in confusion. "Hey, hey. What’s wrong? I mean, other than the obvious." He pointed at the door. "If you’ve done something I’d be ashamed of while you were drunk, it’s not a story I’ve heard." Catching Artie’s hand, he rubbed his thumb across the knuckles. "You worry so much. I wish — I’ve always wished — there was something I could do to take away the reasons for your worries. Not to make you worry less about them, but to stop them, so you don’t have to worry any more."

That had been like a spear in his chest, since they were young. Artie had been somewhere between worried and outright terrified so much of the time, but Cormac never stopped trying to help.

"You want a drink? We’ll have a drink. We’ll have four drinks. Each." Cormac tried to smile. "And then we can go sit in Varric’s lap and try to get him to tell us stories. Both of us. Together. It’ll be ridiculous."

Artemis laughed weakly. "You do have a way with dwarves," he said, trying to reassure his brother with a smile. He bent to brush Cormac’s lips with his. "Though I suspect Natia would rather sit in your lap, the way she was admiring your, uh… codpiece." Four drinks sounded like a great idea just then, though he knew he’d feel guilty in the morning.

"Why don’t we go pick up an elf and a few drinks and flirt our way through the dwarven contingent, hmm? It’ll make quite a splash, even if nothing comes of it." Cormac stood carefully, easing himself up until he stood pressed against his brother. "And then, after everyone goes home, you and I can go to bed. Like we used to. And I’ll just hold on to you and nuzzle your neck, until you’re sober again." He pressed a kiss to Artie’s cheek and stepped away. "And I know exactly how interested Natia is in the piece I keep in this cod. You know she made me an offer, while we were in the Deep Roads? Wasn’t really the time for it, though. You know how Anders gets, underground."

Artie’s eyebrows rose. "You mean when he’s in the Deep Roads, excavating someone else’s deep roads? Or someone excavating his?" It was a distraction, at least, from remembering what had just happened. "She saw that and wasn’t frightened off? My, my. The girl’s naughtier than I thought. I like her."

Artie nudged Cormac’s shoulder with his as they stepped back into the hall, but then he consciously put more space between them, enough to fit an elf. "Hold on," he said. "Not really the time, you say? Are you considering it?"

"Ah, you know me, I’m usually considering it," Cormac laughed. "And after what she saw, down there, she won’t get near Anders. Still eyeing my codpiece, though, even if I’d be shocked if she’d let my mouth near her. But, you know the sorts of things I’ll lick. And I always drink whiskey between that and kissing y— someone."

He tossed an arm over Artie’s shoulders, leaning in close, like one does when discussing cards and women, while drunk. "If she’s still interested, you want to bring Theron and watch? We could make a real show of ourselves, I’m sure. And if she’s willing to go the distance, I’m sure you’ll get quite an eyeful. And an earful." To anyone else, it would sound like he was offering a good view of the woman, as they came back into the room. Only the two of them would know what he really meant.

Artie caught sight of Bethany, reading an excerpt from her book to a crowd of Orlesians, one arm around Sebastian’s waist. The combination of mask and codpiece was a bit ridiculous, but that was Orlais for you.

"Drinks first," Artemis decided, looking pained. He ducked out from under Cormac’s arm before Bethany could catch sight of them again, and poked around the drink table, looking for something heavier than the bubbly sweet stuff Anton had been serving. When he didn’t have any luck, he grabbed a bottle.

"You two are back sooner than expected," Theron said as he passed by Cormac. He looked around but saw no sign of Fenris or Anders. Hm. Maybe the Hawkes hadn’t been invited to the party after all.

"They’re playing with melted chocolate," Cormac sighed. "You can imagine my poor brother’s reaction. And now he means to drink himself into obliviousness. I strongly suggest spending some time a whole lot closer to him, if only because he won’t be displeased to wake up next to you, in the morning. And it’ll be a lot less scandalous than if I attempt to keep him away from the Orlesians."

Theron snorted and raised his eyebrows at Gytha. "Pardon me, my lady, but my evening has just gotten a great deal more exciting." He bowed to her and spun, setting off after Artemis, and slipping an arm around the darling shem’s waist, when he caught up.

"You know, it’s terrible trying to find the rest of my dwarven friends in this crowd," Cormac sighed, pouring himself another drink — this one just as bubbly, but much less pink. "It’s all codpieces and Orlesian hats!"

"Now you understand my problem," Gytha sighed, pulling a small flask out of her codpiece and splashing a bit into Cormac’s glass. "You look like you need a stiffer drink."

"Creators bless you, kind woman." Cormac bent down and kissed Gytha’s cheek. "Forgive me, but I’ve got to find my brother. We’ve got a bet going on which of us ends up in Varric’s lap first."

"Oh, that I want to see!" Gytha laughed. "That man… never a woman for him. Never a man for him, either. Buys nothing from me, but information."

Cormac considered the situation and then rested a hand on Gytha’s shoulder. "Well, come along, then! It’s not something you get to see every day! Let me know if you see Natia. I know we invited her, but Andraste only knows if she’s here…" He shook his head and led Gytha into the crowd, following in Theron’s wake.