Chapter Text
“Please Fenris?” pleaded Hawke, her dark mahogany eyes absurdly large and bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “Just do this as a favor to me? I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“I still do not see why you could not do it yourself Hawke.” Fenris mumbled, determinately looking away from the woman and her ridiculous antics.
“Believe me I would if I could but Mother will have my hide if I skip out on another of her dinner parties. She’s determined to set me up with Bran’s boy.” she rolled her eyes in a manner so exaggerated that Fenris could not help the curl of his lip in what would pass as and amused smile for him.
“Surely one of your staff could do it then? Or an urchin?” he asked hopefully.
Hawke shook her head “Everyone else I trust is busy and I wouldn’t dare send a stranger. There’s no telling what could happen if I did.”
“Then could it not wait?” he was grasping at straws, he knew, but he was reluctant to say no outright when he owed Hawke so much already, but he was not all together comfortable with performing this task for her.
“I know you don’t care for him but you see what he’s like don’t you? All skin and bones.” her brows furrowed with worry and a much less theatrical pout pursed her lips. “Fenris, I think this may be the only food he ever eats. Do you really think he deserves to starve just because you don’t want to spend two minutes in his company?”
He very nearly said yes, a large portion of his mind all for allowing the abomination to suffer, especially if it would ensure his personal comfort. Then a smaller but much stronger part of him instantly felt guilty. Hawke was right, anyone with any sense could tell that the mage walked on just the wrong side of the line between healthy and malnourished. Not even that insufferable imbecile deserved to go hungry just because Fenris couldn’t be arsed to go on a fifteen minute walk to deliver a care package.
“Alright fine.” he grumbled, relieving the woman of the large and unexpectadely heavy basket that she held out to him.
Hawke beamed at him, tucking a lock of auburn hair behind her ear. “Thank you Fenris, I meant what I said. I will make it up to you.”
Fenris waved her off. “There is no need, I already owe you more than I could hope to repay.”
She made to protest but Fenris cut her off by turning his back to her and walking away. He hefted the massive basket onto one shoulder so he could still have a hand free with which to open the door to her estate. When he reached said door he lifted his free hand briefly in farewell before stepping out into the cool evening air.
He decided immediately that since he was unable to escape this menial task then he had best get it over with as quickly and efficiently at possible. He walked swiftly and took as direct a route to the under city as he could given the intentionally winding nature of Kirkwall’s streets. He made good time too, but the sun had still managed to set completely by the time he found himself outside the abomination’s so called ‘clinic’.
The lantern had been doused and the doors where shut but lamplight flickered from beneath them so he knew the mage was in and awake. As he approached the doors however, Fenris felt panic begin to flutter in his chest. Disturbing sounds where greeting his ears, of muttered curses, pained groans, and flesh hitting flesh. There must be a fight going on or, Maker forbid, something far far worse.
Fenris set the heavy basket down on the ground carefully and drew his sword as he opened the nearest door with extreme caution... and promptly froze. The mage was bent over a literal barrel, robes pushed up around his waist and trousers around his knees, his face was buried in his arms that where clutching at the barrel so tightly his knuckles where white, with a constant chant of 'stop, please’ and 'don’t’ issuing in a muffled tone from his lips. Worst of all however, was that standing behind him, clutching the mage’s hips in a bruising grip as he thrust hard and fast was Carver Hawke.
He could not believe what he was seeing. He knew that Carver was an ass but this... this was monstrous, and more disturbing yet was how it was effecting him. The sounds the mage was making, dear Maker why where they so lovely? They set his blood aflame. And those lean, pale thighs...
He was struck with a sudden image of himself taking Carver’s place, seeing their joining and watching his own bronze cock slamming into that perfect porcelain ass. This was followed immediately by simultaneous waves of nausea and arousal. Venhedis what was wrong with him!?
As he stood frozen and unnoticed he watched as one of Carver’s hands released the mage’s hip to fist in his tousled hair instead, revealing a perfect hand shaped bruise where he had been grasping previously. Carver tugged Anders’ head up from off the barrel so that they stood chest to back and Fenris was given a full view of the abomination’s cock, long and slender like the mage himself, hard as iron and unspeakably enticing.
He was being used and abused like a cheap whore, how could he be aroused during this? The poor bastard’s body was betraying him. He had seen it before in male slaves forced to service their masters, bodies giving over to the raw pleasure despite obvious horror.
He continued to watch as Carver buried his face in the graceful arch of Anders’ neck, his hand still tangled in red-gold hair, still thrusting and grunting and wringing those sinful moans from the mage. Fenris saw him sink even white teeth in to tender flesh then, biting hard and timed perfectly with an especially powerful thrust. The loud startled cry that tore from the mage’s throat at this finally snapped Fenris out of his shock induced paralysis and sent him rocketing in to action.
With an inarticulate shout of fury, he charged forward, his sword at the ready before him. This caused the two men startle badly at his interruption. Carver instinctively shoved the mage away from himself as he tried to back away quickly, causing Anders to tumble gracelessly into the barrel in front of him before he and it both rolled to the floor with a crash.
Carver was flushing crimson and looking intensely embarrassed and uncomfortable, raising his hands in surrender as Fenris closed with him. His cock still jutted proudly from the folds of his templar skirt but was wilting quickly at the furious look in the elf’s eyes, while a steady stream of curses in an impressive array of languages and vulgarity where streaming from Anders as he tried to right himself on the floor. Fenris ignored him, unable to so much as glance at the mage in his current state.
“You had best leave now Carver!” he growled, his tone low and dangerous. “If it where not for your sister I would slay you here and now. This is a whole new low for you.”
”Maker Fenris, wha...?” Carver started to question but Fenris cut him off.
“LEAVE NOW!” he barked, unable to control his rage and disgust.
Carver started at the sudden outburst, fear and shame clearly written on his face. He bolted from the clinic like a frightened deer, hurriedly tugging his trousers up as he ran and forgetting his gauntlets and sword which lay atop a nearby table. Fenris watched him go, his lip curling with distaste before he finally turned to face the mage. Anders had at least managed to cover himself back up altho his hair and clothing where still disheveled and he still sat on the ground. Fenris offered him a hand to help the mage up.
Anders’ honeyed eyes narrowed, ignoring the proffered hand as he pulled himself to his feet. “Why are you here, Fenris?” he asked, his tone exasperated and full of frustration.
Fenris was incredulous. “Should you not be more thankful, Mage?”
“Thankful!?” Anders practically shrieked with indignance “Why should I be thankful for a prying busybody sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong?”
“Because this ‘prying busybody’ just rescued you from being raped you moronic bastard, fasta vass!” he cringed inwardly a little at his harsh words. He knew it was unkind of him to be so angry with a victim, but Maker be damned if the blighted mage didn’t rankle him something fierce.
“Wait... what?” Anders asked, clearly confused and a little taken aback. “You thought that I was... that Carver?” he started to laugh heartily, the sound of it absolutely infuriating to Fenris who felt himself flush a little with embarrassment.
By the time he finished he was wiping tears of mirth from his eyes and his voice was full of amusement. “Oh Andraste’s tits, Fenris, how could you possibly think that that was what was happening?”
Fenris’ flush deepened “I am not an idiot, Mage, you need not bother with your facade. He had you... beneath him. You where asking him to stop.”
Anders buried his face in his hands then and his shoulders began to shake. He was weeping, Maker have mercy the abomination was weeping. Fenris felt the bottom of his stomach drop and his protector instinct overpowered him. He placed a hand on the other man’s back, between his shoulder blades and shifted slightly closer to whisper comforting nonsense in the mage’s ear.
When he did draw close, however, he quickly realized that the strangled noises Anders was making where not sobs as he had thought but badly suppressed laughter. Clearly the man was more broken than he had previously thought, this was not a normal reaction. This whole situation was far outside his realm of experience and he had no idea how to handle it. So he just stood there lamely, waiting for the mage’s ... laughter... to subside.
“For the record, Fenris” the mage started, his voice cracking slightly “The act you witnessed was very much consensual” he turned to look at the elf then and his expression was oddly strained as if he was fighting mightily not to grin or continue laughing or, Fenris suspected, to cry. “ And I was asking him to not stop.” he added, trying to pass a sob off as a snort and doing a passable job at it too.
“Please Ma-Anders, there is no need to deny it. Go to Hawke, she could...”
“For the love of the Maker do not tell Hawke about this!” Anders gasped, suddenly looking mortified. “You know how protective she is of Carver, she will cut off my fucking balls and force feed them to me!”
“I do not believe that Hawke would punish you because her monster of a little brother forced himself on you!” Fenris growled, grasping the mage by his shoulders and trying not to shake him but failing a little.
Anders just stared at him, mouth slightly agape. “You really don’t get it do you? Fenris, let me spell this out for you. There. Was. No. Forcing. In fact the whole arrangement was my idea!”
Fenris snorted, disbelieving. “Why do you continue to protect him? Whatever he has threatened you with to ensure you’re silence doesn’t matter, Hawke will keep you safe.”
“Why are you so certain that he’s taking advantage of me? I’m a mage after all, and over a decade his senior. Maybe I’m the one ‘abusing’ him.” said the mage with a cheeky smile.
“Pfaugh, do not be ridiculous. You where ... receiving... he was the one taking advantage of you by definition!” Fenris wanted to scream at the mage and shake him senseless. Why was he being so difficult?
The odd strained expression had returned to Anders face again and Fenris felt certain that this time the man would start to weep. “Wait, wait, wait...” the mage started, a Maker damned chuckle rumbling from his chest. What the void was wrong with this mage? “Do you mean to tell me... that you honestly believe that a man cannot consent to being submissive?”
“Why so disbelieving mage? You know it to be true! The aggressor must always take from his victim, why would anyone consent to that?” Fenris finally released the mage, resisting the urge to push him away as he began to pace in irritation.
Anders shook his head, his expression grim. “What do they teach you in Tevinter?” oh sure, now the blighted mage looked uncomfortable and unhappy. “Fenris, I realize this is asking a lot of you, but you need to listen to me for once.” a slight smirk quirked one corner of his mouth as he said this but his tone was even and serious. “Submitting to another man in bed is not rape if one does it willingly, and I assure you I was very willing to give myself to Carver.”
“Why?” Fenris asked, hesitant to believe the mage still.
Anders shrugged. “He can be an ass sure, but he’s easy on the eyes. And he’s surprisingly well endowed. If I’d known earlier that his ‘second sword’ was near as big as his first I might have considered being less awful to him... maybe.” Fenris blanched at this statement and Anders grinned at his discomfort.
“No, that is not what I meant.” Fenris pinched his brow with frustration, slightly disturbed. “Why would you submit to him? Allow him to violate you like that?”
“Um, because I like it?” Anders stated matter of factly, as if this was an obvious answer.
“How could you like it?” Fenris threw his hands in to the air and paused in his pacing to turn to the mage, eying him skeptically. “It is painful and shameful.” he stated simply, fighting back the bitter memories that threatened to surface.
Anders returned his skeptical glance with one of quiet sympathy, his sincerity so profound it caused Fenris’ breath to catch in his throat. When the mage spoke his tone was gentle but full of emotion. “It isn’t always like that.”
They both fell silent then, studying each other warily. Fenris knew from how he spoke that the mage had suffered some, after all who could not claim at least a little tragedy in their pasts? But now he was being forced to reconsider his opinion of the man, if only a little.
After a time Anders seemed to be struck with some kind of thought or idea that Fenris immediately knew he would not appreciate, if the mage’s ludicrous smirk was anything to go by. “Why don’t I show you? Prove to you that it can sometimes be good.” his voice lowered then and became a purr that sent a shiver down Fenris’ spine and blood rushing to his groin. “It can be very good.” he promised, stalking towards the elf with a fiery hunger in his amber eyes.
Fenris found himself frozen once more as the mage approached, his mind unable to process the sudden shift in conversation and soon he found the human pressed flush against him. Slender arms wound around his waist and about his neck, gentle fingers threaded thru his hair, a long curved nose nuzzled at his jaw, before soft warm lips where pressed to the shell of his ear. “Please let me show you Fenris.” The mage cooed, his tone still low, purring, and seductive.
Fenris could only groan in response. The damned mage could give all the whores at the Rose a run for their money! Already he was half hard in his trousers and he didn’t even like the man. But then, said a voice in his head, you don’t really have to like someone to want to fuck them senseless do you? Not always, responded another voice in agreement, and by Andraste’s pyre did he ever want the mage right now. He had never cared a whit for the man himself but he had always had appreciation for his looks. He was easily the most beautiful and graceful human male he’d ever seen and having him so close now was intoxicating.
But no, this was not right. How had a simple errand for Hawke devolved so quickly in to him getting ready to fall in to bed with the blighted abomination? With surprising reluctance Fenris began to push the Mage away, trying to ignore the way his body felt utterly bereft without the human’s touch. It hadn’t been all that long since he’d last had sex, what was it about the mage that left him so wanting?
Because the mage was just as interested, he realized. No one had ever expressed desire for him as just himself. All the sexual encounters he could remember where either free men taking advantage of a slave or whores interested only in his coin. Then here was Anders. No promise of coin to lure him and willingly offering his own submission. It was absolutely unheard of to the Tevinter slave and undeniably intriguing.
“Please Fenris.” the mage whined as he was pushed away, the pleading tone in his voice doing unspeakable things to the elf. “Please don’t push me away. I’ll make you feel good, I promise.”