[ Master Post ]
Title: Rhapsody in Ass Major – Chapter 376
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Anton Hawke ♂, Cullen ♂
Rating: M (L3 N2 S3 V0 D0)
Warnings: ‘Villainy’, ass-banditry, exciting uses for office furniture
Notes: In which Anton plays the damsel to Cullen’s villain, and a desk is misused.
Cullen pulled Anton into his lap, arms fitting around Anton’s waist as though meant to be there, which he liked to think they did. "Did you miss any?" he asked.
"Hmm, let me check." Under the pretence of inspecting his face, Anton smeared some more cream over his cheek, his lips. His tongue followed, up the line of a sharp cheekbone before he kissed the rest from Cullen’s lips.
"You taste like cream," Cullen said with Anton’s tongue still in his mouth.
Anton chuckled. "So do you. Delightful." He shifted his weight until he had a leg on either side of Cullen’s lap, rather than one thigh squished at an odd angle.
Cullen’s arms wrapped tighter around Anton. "So, the Gazette," he said, after another long kiss. "Did you take the advice?"
"Of course I did. Varric’s got some space down here, too. Any sailors get caught in the middle of this, we’ve got them covered." And the dockworkers, Anton supposed, but that was a given. The dockworkers also knew where to find shelter, and he hoped they’d drag along anyone else they caught in the street if things went sour.
"The house?" Cullen asked.
"Obviously. Cormac and Sandal did the house themselves. It’s the safest place in Hightown. Except maybe Artie’s. You know how Cormac and Fenris both fuss." Anton laughed. "No sense worrying about it, now. We’ve done what we can, and she’ll do what she means to. And I, for one, would like to enjoy some of that rare and delightful time with my husband, before anything else goes wrong."
"Mmm," Cullen agreed, as Anton’s lips pressed against his own, again. He supposed he’d done enough worrying for the day. What Cullen needed was a distraction, and Anton was ever the best of distractions.
The chair creaked under their combined weight as they kissed, hands roving, mapping out familiar planes of skin and muscle through ever more frustrating layers of clothing. Anton’s hands found skin first, sneaking under the hem of Cullen’s tunic.
"How sturdy is this chair?" Cullen asked, stomach muscles jumping at the light touch of nails.
Anton hummed, putting less thought into the answer than Cullen would have liked. "Not sure. Care to find out?"
Cullen gave Anton’s rump a teasing swat. "I’d rather we not end up sending the Orlesians for Anders because the chair broke, along with every bone in or around my ass. And no. I know that face. You’re thinking of puns involving bones and asses instead of hearing my concern."
Anton cut off this last word with a laughing kiss. "The chair will be fine, Ser Cullen. But if you’re that worried, I assure you my desk is every bit as sturdy as yours."
"And every bit as cluttered," Cullen noted, after a moment.
Anton reached out and swept an arm across the desk, depositing most of the clutter on the floor behind it. "Props," he said, after a moment. "I do leave the door unlocked, while I’m in the building. Those who want to look get nothing but an eyeful of garbage. But for you…" Anton squeezed himself out of the chair, brushed the rest of the clutter off the desk, and deposited himself on it, damp-lipped and rumpled. "For you, I’ll put something worthwhile on my desk. I’m certain what you see before you is worth a much closer examination and possibly some plundering."
"Well, for you to show me the real worth of your office, I must be special, indeed." A wry half-smile crept up one side of Cullen’s face as he stood and ran a hand along Anton’s thigh. "Truly excellent workmanship."
"Isn’t it?" Anton smiled up at Cullen as he stretched. "But, you should definitely check the hardware. I’ve come to understand it’s truly spectacular."
"You mean this highly polished knob?" Cullen asked, pausing to squeeze Anton through his trousers. "Perhaps you should have a word with the carpenter, however. As I understand it, when it comes to desks, the knob should be outside the drawers."
Anton laughed, and Cullen loved the way it lit his face. "Well, that’s a simple enough fix, isn’t it? Open drawers, take out knob."
"Well, it would be easier if you didn’t wear so many damn buckles," Cullen muttered. He bent to nip at Anton’s lip as he fussed with Anton’s clothing, taking his time undoing the clasps until his husband grew impatient. Pulling the newly opened waistband down, Cullen ducked to kiss the band of skin there, his hot breath a tease so close to Anton’s knob.
"Hoping for another taste of cream, husband?" Anton teased, leaning to the side to pick at the buckles on his own boots.
"Are you going to give one so easily?" Cullen smirked, nibbling at an edge of muscle that only appeared when Anton was using it.
Anton sat up with a whooping laugh. "Not if you keep tickling me like that!"
"Oh," Cullen murmured, turning his head for a better angle, "have I finally found where you’re ticklish? After all these years? I might have to pay you back, you know, for all those laughs."
"Oh, shit," Anton wheezed between cackles, as Cullen’s teeth dragged across his abs, again. "You are a genuinely vengeful man, aren’t you?"
"Vengeful and patient," Cullen agreed. "That’s what makes me dangerous." He grinned against Anton’s skin and the twitching muscle under his teeth.
"Villain!" Anton gasped, mock scolding. "I will not be so easily vanquished!" Manoeuvring under Cullen’s hold, Anton twisted until he could reach Cullen’s ribs, and before Anton even touched him, Cullen squeaked, folding in on himself in defence. "Ah, have I found my enemy’s weakness?"
Cullen swatted Anton’s hand away when it reached for him again, laughing, "Stop!"
"I have!" Anton crowed, reaching with both hands, which Cullen grabbed in each of his.
"You are terrible," Cullen said, pulling Anton by the wrists into a kiss.
"Incorrigible," Anton agreed. "And that’s how you like me."
"I like you even better when you’re incorrigible and naked," Cullen purred, Anton’s lip caught in his teeth.
"Naked? In a businessy place of business? In a veritable office of business?" Anton tried to sound scandalised, and very nearly succeeded, aside from the part where his lip was otherwise occupied. "By the sky above, what scandal!" he paused. "You know you’re going to have to let go, if you expect me to stop wearing clothes, don’t you?"
"Ah, but you’re already in my hands, just as you are. Is letting go worth the chance you’ll tickle me again?" Cullen asked.
"Me, tickle you? I think I should be more concerned about you tickling me!" Anton protested, lip finally sliding free, a bit more bruised than it had been. "You wicked and vengeful creature, you!"
"Oh, so are you the damsel, this time?" Cullen teased, kissing the curve of Anton’s eyebrow.
"If I’m the damsel and you’re the villain, then where is the handsome, bare-chested hero ready to ride off with me into the sunset?"
"On the other side of the locked door, most likely." Cullen bit down on the bend of muscle where neck met shoulder, a playful growl in his throat. "So I’m the villain, am I? I never get to be the villain."
Anton chuckled, nudging him half-heartedly. "Try not to sound so eager about that," he said. "Or are you just that eager to have your wicked, wicked way with me?" Anton’s knee came up to rub against Cullen’s side. "Be gentle with me. I’m fragile."
Cullen snorted, but he finally released Anton’s wrists after pressing a kiss to each one.
Anton unbuckled an assortment of straps and belts Cullen hadn’t even realised weren’t simply decorative and shrugged out of his shirt, tossing it over Cullen’s head, with his hands still in the sleeves. "So, you villainous knave, what will you do with this delicate flower of innocence?"
A pause. Cullen blinked. And then he started laughing uncontrollably, forehead coming to rest on Anton’s shoulder. "Delicate flower of innocence? More like hardy vine of lasciviousness."
"And I thought you liked my hardy and lascivious vine," Anton teased, sliding his hands out of the shirt and making quick work of the ties on Cullen’s trousers, before plunging his hands down the back to squeeze Cullen’s firm and shapely bottom. Not as shapely as his own, of course, but he was a Hawke. "Do you remember the first time I squeezed you just like this? I never imagined, then, that we’d end up like this."
"On a desk?" Cullen teased, nibbling at the side of Anton’s neck.
"On any number of desks, chairs, benches years down the line as husband and husband. But yes, this desk in particular. I’m impressed you even found the place."
A nip turned into a bite. "Of course I found it," Cullen said, letting Anton’s hands pull him closer, or as close as he could get with Anton’s still half-on trousers in the way. "I may have needed to punch a few sailors in the teeth to get directions, but I found it. I have my ways."
"Oh do you ever," Anton purred. "Like how you plan to have your way with me?"
Cullen ground forward into Anton’s hips, eager for more skin on skin. "That is the plan," he agreed. "Unless you’re still waiting for that bare-chested hero to whisk you away, my delicate damsel."
Anton snorted indelicately. "I’d like to see him try. Actually, that could be fun, sometime, if you were interested. A hero, a villain, and your sweet and charming husband caught in the middle. Or maybe a handsome ass-bandit and his lovely sidekick, and my bold and handsome husband caught in the middle." His hands slid under Cullen’s tunic, tugging it up.
But, Cullen pulled his tunic back down. "Am I not enough for you, any more?" he asked, confusion and dismay clear in his eyes.
"What?" Anton laughed and pulled Cullen closer. "That’s supposed to be more fun for both of us. Just something else for us to share. I almost feel bad that I’ve kept you all to myself, depriving the whole of Kirkwall of more of your delights. If you want more, you can have more than just me. Your husband is not afraid to share."
Cullen wasn’t sure whether to be offended, at first, but decided this was another one of those weird Hawke things. "Well, I don’t want to be shared. You’re more than enough for me, you dastardly bandit of asses."
"And here I thought you were the villain, tonight!" Anton joked, tugging at Cullen’s tunic again.
This time, Cullen shrugged it off and dropped it on Anton’s head. "How villainous would you like me, you dastardly damsel?"
"Ruinously villainous," Anton replied, dropping the shirt onto the floor.
Cullen hummed, tugging Anton’s waistband down his thighs, as far as a desk and gravity would allow. "Would tearing these pants off your legs be suitably ruinous, dearest husband?" he said against Anton’s lips.
Anton arched against him and purred. "Oh yes. Oh— wait. No. Not if you’re actually tearing them. I like these pants. These pants have been good and loyal to me through many hardships."
"Right now, your pants are a hardship," Cullen drawled, but he grabbed Anton about the waist and hoisted him up as though he weighed nothing, while his other hand pulled his trousers down and out of the way.
"Oh, you villainous brute!" Anton gasped dramatically, putting a hand to his forehand. "You rapacious barbarian!"
Cullen offered Anton’s bare ass a smack and set him back down. "Rapacious?"
"It’s a good word."