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A long exhale pressed unsteadily from Fenris’ lungs. His breath caught. This… this was so much better than the day he had found the mage stuffed into a lady’s knickers. He recalled fondly the way the pink silk had stretched over Anders’ hardening cock when Fenris had talked him into a stupor, and how he’d blushed such a deep shade of red when he soiled them.
But this was so much better.
His torso blanketed in white lace, Anders looked completely obscene. The body of the corset was tight, cinched around his already-narrow waist and elongating his figure. Fenris gaped at the way the boning contorted around the mage’s ribs, and shook his head in disbelief.
“What?” Anders was going pink in the face as Fenris eyes came to rest on the ruffles encircling his chest, just below the place where his nipples peeked out - hard, red little nubs on an expanse of flushed white skin.
“You look like a fucking whore,” Fenris said plainly. His grin was deadly. Anders backed away at this, chuckling hesitantly.
“Is that… a good thing?”
Anders took steps backward, and Fenris noticed the frilly pink fabric teasing from beneath the extravagant bottom edge of the corset. Panties to match. He bit his lip. This was truly wicked. His cock was thick, swollen in his breeches and straining painfully at his leggings. He could barely stand to look at the mage this way without touching him, too. “A very good thing,” he growled, and the depth of his baritone shuddered through Anders’ bones, leaving him weak and shaking.
When the mage whimpered, Fenris pressed towards him, pinning the man between his own hard body and the clinic wall behind him. His teeth scraped down Anders’ jaw, lavished the crook of his neck with a sigh, and he teased the mage’s hair with a fist at his scalp. Anders’ head flung back, and one leg lifted, coming to rest at Fenris’ hip. The elf smirked, and stroked one long burning path down the length of Anders thigh, his bony fingers firmly ensuring that the mage could feel traces of lyrium tingling in his pores.
He teased a hand into Anders’ blonde hair, twisting locks around his fingers until his fist was tight at the mage’s scalp, leaving him wincing and looking nervous. “It’s a good thing,” he snarled deeply, lips brushing Anders’ unshaven jaw, “because you are my fucking whore, aren’t you, mage? Say you know you are your Master’s little whore.”
Anders cringed, and bit his lip. His eyes were wide and wanting despite his wary expression, and when he finally opened his mouth to obey, a moan escaped him first. “Yes… I am your whore, Master.”
Fenris hissed, swallowing the words at the mage’s throat and feeling them like fire in his system. “Yes. My filthy little whore.” He ran his hands along the corset keeping his mage bound, admiring the taut boning and the texture of the detailing on the lacy bodice.
He turned him around, crushing his stomach up against the wall, and put his mouth to the human’s ear. “What did you think you’d get, dressing like that, bitch?” The insult made Anders shudder and buck backwards, begging Fenris’ erection with the curve of his ass. The warrior chuckled darkly, only too aware of how hard it made Anders to be degraded this way. It helped, too, that his voice always did such terrible things to the mage. “Did you think I’d let it slide? That I wouldn’t tear you apart like the fucking whore you are?”
The mage let out a moan like a wanton thing, pressing back onto Fenris, grinding himself against him. Fenris groaned at the sight of that ass draped in ruffles, and couldn’t help himself but to indulge in the warmth. He rubbed himself firmly against Anders’ backside, tongue between his lips and a hand at the back of the man’s neck. “Maker, I want to destroy you,” he rumbled, and the sound curled into Anders’ chest, making him hot and needy.
“Please,” the mage groaned. “I want you to.”
Fenris laughed softly. “Filthy,” he breathed, reaching around to trace the line of Anders’ cock through the pink frills. “You are completely fucking disgusting. You know that?”
Nodding vigorously, Anders falls apart, his voice cracking and his whole body curving backwards into the warrior. “Yes,” he cried out. “I know, Fenris. Master. I know. Please…”
“I want to hurt you so badly,” Fenris hissed, and to his delight, the mage nodded again. “I want to make you bleed for me. I want to feel you melting in my hands as you lose yourself.”
His voice was like velvet ice: deep, husky, and cold, and Anders thrived on it. It filled him, teased him with what was to come, caressing and calming him simply by ear. Anders bucked. “Please,” he begged again, then paused for a moment during which Fenris warmed his cock through his girlish smalls. He smiled drunkenly, and turned his head slightly to glance back at his lover. “I wanted to indulge you tonight. It’s why I’m wearing this.” He covered Fenris’ fingers with his own. “So, do it. Hurt me, Master.” Fenris swore loudly, and his hands shook a little as he clutched the mage tight. “I want you to.”
It was too much for the elf, who threw his arm around the mage’s middle and yanked him back from the wall at this. Like a puppet, Anders was pushed downwards, and he went to his knees easily. “Little slut,” Fenris rasped gruffly, fingers strangely gentle in Anders’ hair. “I need that pretty mouth now.” He slapped the mage firmly, causing him to gasp. His pink cheek added to the allure when he then pouted at Fenris. “Come on, now, whore. Open up that dumb mouth of yours. Be the cock whore I know you are.”
Anders needed no telling again. His hands were already working Fenris’ cock out of his leggings, his lips parted in anticipation, and Fenris felt hot.
A gasp, a long moan, and Fenris’ long neck stretched tall as his head fell back. Anders’ mouth was so warm and wet and important… he could not start slow. He was too maddened by how Anders looked in all that lace and tight boning, his mind was on another plane of reasoning at this point, and he had no more patience left. He took his mage’s head in his hands, and - mesmerized by his watery stare - began to fuck his face. “Take it, sweet little thing,” he mumbled, and he reveled in the way Anders moaned around his cock at his words. He would never tire of the effect his voice had on the pitiful abomination, and he would never stop taking advantage of it. “Yes, boy. That’s right. Mm.” His voice was husky and slightly tremulous under the pressure of his mounting bliss, and that was Anders’ favorite. He held himself deep in his throat for a moment to catch his breath, his chest tightening when the mage gagged, and instinctively tried to push himself back. But Fenris’ fists were taut against his scalp, forcing him to suffer through it, drooling all the while.
“Take every bit, whore. I know you love my cock, mage. I can always see how starved you are for it. Fucking pathetic.” Anders was squealing, whimpering while he choked, but still Fenris did not move. “My pitiful little cock slut. You love it, don’t you? Admit it.”
He pulled out finally, throbbing needily at Anders’ desperate gasps for air. Immediately he began to nod, vigorously, perhaps a little over-eager to admit this. “Yes,” he panted. A string of drool was dangling off his bottom lip. “Yes, I… I love it. I love your cock, Master. Please give me more of it. I am your happy whore, Master.”
Anders’ hungry eyes flitted to Fenris’ satchel, where he was fidgeting with the hilt of a dagger. “Maker, you're so fucking… pretty,” Fenris hissed, shaking his head down at the debauched sight. There was saliva falling from Anders’ lips in low-hanging strings, and the front of his lovely white corset had gotten a little damp. His hands were resting softly on Fenris’ thighs, but he knew the rules, and at a look from his Master, he removed them. He folded them behind his back, and stared up, patient and doe-eyed.
To his surprise, Fenris kneeled to meet his eye, and reached out to him. He fingered the silky ruffles keeping Anders’ hard cock hidden from him. He found the head of it, and traced its shape, grinning at the way his mage bucked his hips forward and gasped. “Feel good through these pretty things, hm?” he teased. “Eager to be touched?” Anders’ nodded. He was such a desperate thing. “Maker, you’re filthy.” He leaned forward, and ensured that his lips brushed the mage’s ear at his next words. “I’m sure you’re simply… aching to be fucked, aren’t you?”
A moan like a dying animal met his ears, and he smirked. The hand on the back of Anders’ neck was holding him close, so he could pull away even if he tried - but that didn’t seem like it would be a problem. The man was practically non-verbal.
“Hey,” Fenris insisted suddenly, taking the mage by a fistful of hair and yanking him away so that they could see each other again. “Hey, look at me.” Anders’ blinked, and met his eye. “Good. Good boy. I know you’re desperate, you pathetic creature. I know what you want.” His husky teasing was melting through Anders’ system, settling hot and heavy in his stomach and making him even harder. “But I need your conscious understanding now. I need you to be verbal. I need to hear you say yes - or no.” The mage gulped, and nodded.
His eyes widened when Fenris drew his dagger. His breathing hitched.
Fenris let go of his hair now, and ran a finger down his cheek. “I want to hurt you,” he purred. “And I want to tear that fucking thing you’re wearing apart. It’s so soft, so pretty, and - Maker - I just want to defile it. But command me not to, and I will not.”
Anders nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said firmly. “You may hurt me. But - ” and he grinned a little shyly. “Please stick to the laces, if you rip the corset. Those, at least, can be replaced.”
With a chuckle, Fenris agreed. “As you say, mage.”
He wasted no time in shoving Anders to all fours and positioning himself behind him. Maker how he loved the mage this way. Removing his undershirt, Fenris pressed his erection against the frills before him. Anders looked so depraved, and so beautiful all laced up like a fucking present for him to unwrap. He twirled the dagger between deft fingers, and drew a deep breath. Anders’ appreciation for his voice could send him completely over the edge, and Fenris knew it. He leaned down, letting the laces and bows scratch uncomfortably against his stomach’s markings. He reached out with his dagger. Held it to Anders’ throat. The mage shuddered, then went still. His other hand wandered to the mage’s bulging knickers, knowing how torturous it would be. “You want me to fuck you, boy? Yes, I know you do.” His low purr was teasing, quiet but still coursing through Anders’ like thunder. “You want my cock in your pretty little ass, but all I want is to bleed you dry and feel you go weak in my arms.”
Anders whimpered. He was shaking. Fenris was skillful, and allowed for the tiniest cut on the side of his neck to drive him wild. The mage’s breathing quickened. Fenris could feel his heartbeat strong against his chest. “Hush,” he teased. “I’ve barely touched you. There will be time for you to cry and squirm soon enough.”
“Please,” the mage begged. This simple word shot straight to Fenris’ cock, and he swore. “Please, Master. Please. More. Anything.”
“Sweet Maker,” Fenris hissed. He drew the dagger down, along the line of Anders’ figure, treading carefully over the delicate lace of the bodice. Then slowly, both hearts hammering wildly, he slipped the blade beneath the first bow, and tore it. Anders grew tense, and that miniscule fear egged Fenris on. With a single swift motion, he sliced through all the laces, until the thing fell away, leaving Anders’ back bare for him. His flesh was stark white, lined with pink where the boning had cinched him, and he was beautiful.
Anders rocked his hips back again, and Fenris found that he was sweating. His cock was red and hot and it was starting to ache badly. “Please,” the mage said again. He reached back, tugging his knickers down, exposing himself.
Fenris laughed darkly. “You made yourself all nice and wet for me already? Maker, you are a whore, aren’t you?” He pressed the head of his cock against his entrance, one hand gripped the ruffles of the fabric that bunched just beneath that ass. “Disgusting whore. Constantly ready for your Master to fuck you. You really are little more than a greedy cock slut.”
He drew the blade gently between the mage’s shoulders in a long line, careful not to nick him yet. Anders’ head dropped. His body went still, though his breathing picked up significantly. “But you’re mine.” He positioned the tip of the blade over Anders’ lower back, teasing with the sharp point. “Aren’t you mine, boy?”
“Yes, Master. I am yours.”
Fenris grinned. “Indeed,” he chuckled. “All mine.” Not even Justice could argue, at this point.
He pressed the head of his cock into Anders’ ass, and groaned. He was so gloriously tight in the anticipation of Fenris’ knife, and he felt unbelievable. Overwhelmed by the pleasure, he had to take a breath, and indulge for a moment in the sensation. He thrust into him slowly - once, twice, and again, then held himself still within the mage, enjoying how he whimpered for more.
Then he began slow work on Anders’ flesh, one line at a time. Up, down, diagonally. The crimson lines blossomed in the wake of his blade, and both men held their breath. The blood pooled, rolling over the side of Anders’ torso and bloodying the floor beneath them.
He drew back, admiring his work. The letter M was branded in red on Anders’ lower back, and it stood out strongly against the pallor of the mage’s skin. “Beautiful,” Fenris hissed, then gripped the trembling hips with his free hand, and began to fuck him hard.
Anders felt his blood was surely boiling to be wrapped around Fenris this way. Pain was shooting through his nerves, and he was wincing with every thrust, but he loved it. His own cock was leaking too, and his fancy smallclothes were quite wet from it.
The motion stopped abruptly, and Anders whined. “Hush,” Fenris insisted. “You will get what you need. But you are my whore, little one. A body for me to play with, and it is I who will get my way first.” Anders shuddered dramatically, the rumble of that baritone destroying him with every word. “I bet you could come just from hearing me talk, couldn’t you?” Anders actually moaned at this, and Fenris laughed. “I thought so.” Then the white-hot pain started up again, and the mage cried out this time.”It’s alright, whore. You may scream if you have to.”
The first line was a letter on its own, and Fenris moved onto the third quickly. Soon the letters M, I, and N shone deep scarlet, and there was blood on his hands. He smeared it up, along Anders’ spine, and gaped openly at how sinful the sight was. “You look fucking gorgeous,” he admitted. “My beautiful whore.”
He fucked him hard again, this time with tears streaming down Anders’ face. “Th- thank you, Master,” he sobbed, lurched forward by every violent stroke.
“Good,” Fenris grunted. “You should be grateful for me to fuck your worthless ass into the ground this way. You’re fucking lucky I was desperate enough to fuck a dolled up slut like you today.”
“Yes, Master,” Anders cried, his voice cracking through the tears. “Thank you, Master.”
It took a lot of effort for Fenris to stop again, but he managed it with a grunt of frustration, and twirled his bloodied dagger in his fingers again, threateningly. “One more, boy.”
Fenris marked Anders as his with that last carving, grinning maniacally at the thought that Justice could feel it too. He knew the spirit was protective, knew he hated sharing Anders, but at least he left them alone now.
He came quickly after completing his work. The knife was thrown aside in favor of gripping both hips desperately, and he fucked him ruthlessly, staring down at the word MINE now glistening from his lover’s skin. With this, it took very little to bring him to the edge of ecstasy, and soon he was filling Anders up, painting his insides with semen. With his last thrusts, spurting still into his mage, he leaned forward to clutch Anders’ neck with his bloodied palm. He did not choke him, but let the presence of his hand act as its own quiet threat. “Come for me,” he growled.
Bloody fingerprints on his throat, and pain still twisting through his lower back, Anders came with a broken, strangled cry that shuddered and echoed in his filthy clinic.
“Mine,” Fenris repeated in his ear. Still buried in the mage’s ass, he took Anders’ cock in his other hand, and worked him until he was completely spent.
He was still dripping a little when he went limp, putty in Fenris’ grip. “That’s my good boy,” he purred. “Very good boy.” He still did not pull out, even though he was going soft.
“Th- thank you,” Anders breathed weakly. “Master.”
“You may heal yourself if you wish,” Fenris reminded him, knowing already that Anders would do what he usually did - heal himself to a point, but still leaving a scab. Indeed, Anders waved his fingers, and the flesh knitted together before Fenris’ eyes. It made him sick, and finally he withdrew, if only to back away from the magic.
When he was done, the word MINE was still lightly scabbed there, and it made Fenris’ lips twitch in amusement. “Beautiful,” he whispered hoarsely, tucking himself back into his leggings as he walked around the mage to take a seat on a nearby cot.
Anders smiled drunkenly, flopping onto his side and fingering the corset strewn beside him. “So this… was a good idea,” he chuckled.
“I’ll say.” Fenris sniffed, and watched the exhausted man on the ground. “What do you need?” he asked gently. Anders sat up, looking up at him in a bit of a daze. “Shall I clean you up? There’s still blood… everywhere.”
“I can use magic for that,” Anders said, wincing as he crawled over to the cot where Fenris sat, and coming to kneel at his feet. Fenris put a hand on his head, smirking at his own drying handprint around the mage’s neck.
“Nonsense,” Fenris said. “Come. Lie down.” He stood, and helped Anders onto the cot.
He fetched a bucket from Anders’ back room, and gathered a cloth for the water. He mulled over how strange it was to be so at home in this clinic, after the amount of time they’d spent hating each other, but this was as it should be, he thought. Yes; sitting beside the mage, cleaning wounds he himself had inflicted - this was exactly where they should be.
He smiled, leaned down, and kissed the back of Anders’ head. The man turned curiously. Fenris simply shrugged, then drew a breath. There was a lot to be said, but for now, all he could express was, “Thank you.”