[ Master Post ]
Title: Rhapsody in Ass Major – Chapter 359
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Artemis Hawke ♂, Anders ♂, Fenris ♂
Rating: E (L2 N4 S4 V0 D1)
Warnings: Autofellatio, the internet is for porn
Notes: A sausage-filled demonstration of the flexibility of certain blue-glowing individuals.
Said brother was, at that moment, sloppily kissing his husband in his former bedroom, trying to pull him towards the bed without breaking lip contact. It was a room he once could walk through with his eyes closed, but he’d already managed to knock his knee on the dresser. Anders was there the next moment, tossing healing at Artie’s knee without even thinking about it, and then his healing wasn’t all that was on Artie.
Artemis mumbled something against Fenris’s lips. Fenris cupped his face and pulled back long enough to ask, "What?"
"No chocolate sauce this time."
Anders stifled a laugh against Artie’s shoulder. "Guess I should have known you figured that out."
"Thank you for not inviting me," Artemis said, rubbing his cheek on the top of Anders’s head. "I am sorry I missed all the licking, though."
Fenris nipped the soft skin under Artie’s jaw. "You know you can lick whatever you want of me, Amatus," he purred.
Anders closed his eyes and took a sharp breath, forcing Justice back. "Sorry." A breathy laugh slipped out of him. "I… he gets a little excited at the thought of licking you." A blue tinge still wavered around the edges of his eyes.
"Haven’t you already licked me enough, this evening? Perhaps you should try licking yourself some more," Fenris scoffed, before once again occupying his mouth with Artemis’s neck.
"As good as that is, I’m really getting a little old for that position." Anders laughed, sliding his hands down to squeeze Artie’s hips. "Besides, I don’t taste like lyrium. That’s what it is, you know. I wish I’d remembered to save his ring — I could just suck on that, if you’re so tired of us."
"Mmm, I didn’t say that," Fenris muttered, contemplatively, around a thin fold of Artie’s skin in his teeth.
Fenris could taste the next shivery sound his mage made, and he remembered another time when it was just the three of them, when he’d held Artemis’s breath in his hand.
Artie, on the other hand, was distracted by something else. "‘Some more’?" he said, cupping the back of Fenris’s head, fingers massaging his scalp. "I know you’re endowed, Anders, but…" He tugged Anders closer by the griffin codpiece.
"But what?" Anders said through a grin. "But you don’t believe it? It’s true!"
Artemis threw him a dubious look.
"Is that supposed to be impressive?" Fenris grumbled against Artemis’s throat.
Artemis’s dubious look landed on Fenris next, or Fenris’s direction, the way his head was tilted. "It’s supposed to be physically impossible." At least he thought it was. He’d never tried it. Why had he never tried it?
"I’ve won so many bets from people who believed that," Anders laughed. "I’m just a little bendy and … well, the flagpole helps. Definitely makes up the difference. I can’t get as far as I could when I was twenty, but it’ll still reach."
"He’s less flexible than I am, because he doesn’t stretch enough," Fenris assured Artemis, his hands settling under Anders’s, on Artemis’s bottom, which was just as squeezable as it had been the last time he checked.
"You’re telling me you can do that?" Anders scoffed, leaning to the side to look at Fenris around Artie’s head, instead of over it.
"I’m telling you I can do more than you could imagine." Fenris smiled dangerously, hands still kneading his husband’s ever-so-touchable backside. "That, in particular, is not that difficult or complicated."
"That’s… You…" Artemis looked back and forth between the gorgeous men on either side of him. "Hold on, I think my brain just melted out my ears. Fenris, you’ve had this hidden talent all along and never shared? I thought you loved me." He placed a hand on his chest as though struck.
Fenris’s eyes crinkled in amusement, brows lifting. "What use have I for licking my own knob when you do it so well?" He nibbled at Artemis’s lower lip.
"He says like I wasn’t the one licking his knob earlier," Anders huffed, looking mildly offended. "How about you put your knob where your mouth is and prove it?"
"I… would pay to see that," Artemis agreed, hands kneading where they traced the planes of Fenris’s back.
"Oh?" Fenris asked, amusement still plain on his face. "And what would you pay me in, hmm? I think I already have the best of you." He nipped and kissed under Artemis’s jaw.
"And I’d do it just to see the look on your face," Anders offered, loosening the laces of his trousers, as he glanced at Fenris. "And you and I both know I can do this, which leaves you looking a bit the arrogant blowhard. Or the arrogant no-blow."
Fenris glared, shifting his weight to one foot, as he lifted the other straight out, caught it with his arm, and tucked his foot behind his head. "You were saying?" He smirked, before rolling his shoulder, tipping his head, and untangling that contortion, wholly without losing his balance.
Anders blinked. "Okay, I can’t do that. But, I still say you can’t do this," he said, shoving his trousers down and taking a seat on the edge of the bed to pull off his boots.
Artemis dropped to sit on the edge of the bed before he fell down instead. Sometimes Artie forgot just how bendy his elf was, especially when he was the one being bent over or folded in half. Fenris looked nothing less than smug as he climbed onto the bed next, settling on the opposite side of Anders as he plucked at the laces to his trousers.
"Care to make this interesting, mage?" Fenris asked, smug smile curling towards wicked.
"I already find this interesting," Artemis mumbled to himself, pretzeling his legs and settling back against the footboard. "Exceedingly interesting."
Anders’s boots, codpiece, and trousers made a pool of fabric in the middle of the floor, a pool which Artie decided to leave be for the moment. "You want to bet for real, do you?" Anders asked. "You’ve been spending too much time with Izzy. Unless we’re betting in actual sausages, I’m afraid I don’t have much currency to bet with."
"How about this," Artie suggested. "Winner can have me however he wants. Seems like a win-win, to me."
"But, if you’re the judge, you’d be cheating," Anders pointed out. "Fenris wins regardless, in that case."
"Fenris wins regardless in any case," Fenris shot back, folding his own clothes and setting them neatly beside the bed. "It’s a matter of will and talent."
"Eat me," Anders scoffed, lying back and bringing his legs up until he was supported on his neck and shoulders, hands on his back, elbows braced on the bed.
"I’m not a fan of chorizo," Fenris replied, the smugly wicked smile undented.
"Your husband is. Maybe you should give it another try, some time," Anders drawled, slowly bringing his knees down as healing magic poured into his back. He really was getting a little old for this. But, even in its half-interested state, his knob met his lips easily as his knees touched the bed to either side of his head. This was much further bent than he’d gotten with Nate, and the more he thought on it, the more glad he was he hadn’t bent this far — he’d have choked himself. Still, he purred contentedly around his own knob, letting the healing magic ease the sensation of his spine separating and his ribs moving.
A garbled sound caught in Artie’s throat. "That’s… so that is physically… wow."
Fenris looked much less impressed. His brands itched from his proximity to Anders’s magic, and he caught the blue-green glow of healing before it seeped into the mage’s back. "Getting too old for this, mage?" he asked. "Do try not to break anything."
Anders replied with a "fuck you" muffled by his own knob.
Fenris met Artie’s look and bared his teeth in a grin that Artie took as a promise. Then Fenris shifted, finding his centre of balance as he lifted first one thigh and then the next, bending in on himself at an impossible angle. He wrapped his lips around his knob as though it were no effort at all.
Artemis didn’t realise he had his mouth open until he felt the drool pooling at the corners of his lips. He swallowed and wiped his mouth. "Wow." Thank the Maker for gorgeous elves, particularly this one.
Anders’s back unbent enough to let him speak. "I’m surprised I can still do this at all, after what the templars did to my back. And my knees. And my knob. You know they expected I’d lose it to gangrene?" He stretched his tongue, letting it dance over the tip. "So, maybe I am a little old for this, but I play well, despite the handicap."
And there it was again, the implication that Anders had been broken and left without healing of any kind. The idea of it still chilled Fenris to the bone. He lifted his head a little. "Ah, but the contest wasn’t ‘who could overcome the greatest hardship’, was it?" he taunted, without the least sympathy in his voice. He knew it was true, but he also knew he couldn’t let Anders play the damaged mage card, here — to tug at Artemis’s sympathies.
"No, but if it was who could swallow come from the greatest hard knob, that would still be me." Anders sucked at just the tip, making obscene sounds of pleasure, before lowering himself down until an utterly absurd length of his flagpole vanished down his own throat.
Fenris rolled his eyes. If the mage wanted to show off, two could play at that game. He bent over his knob again, licking the tip and trying too hard not to think about the flavour or the way the lyrium sparked on his tongue. Then he hugged his thighs closer, tattooed knob disappearing into his mouth.
Artemis looked from one to the other, shifting and adjusting the way his codpiece sat. "If I, uh… if I call it a tie, could the two of you try ravishing me as a tie-breaker? As your judge, I feel it is the only way to remain objective in these proceedings."
Fenris chuffed around his knob, his whole body moving with the sound, before he let it fall from his lips. "For the sake of objectivity, hm?"
"I take my role very seriously."
"Yes, yes, yes! Right there! Creators, yes, just like that!" Cormac howled from the next room. "Oh, make me bleed!"
The flagpole stoppered Anders’s laugh.
"I see my brother is having his own party next door," Artemis said, eyes round. He counted the dicks in the room, and wondered who he was with. Probably Izzy.
"We did leave him in the company of dwarves." The words were slow and thick with spit, as Anders lifted himself out of his own mouth again. "We left him in the company of Gytha, so Maker only knows what they’ve gotten up to…"
"As Theron once pointed out, your brother is, in essence, a very tall dwarf," Fenris noted, no longer quite as interested, with the sound of Cormac in the background.