Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He walked in wearily through the foyer and into the main hall, his feet nearly dragging from a late night at the clinic. He wondered where Bodahn had gone momentarily as he entered the main room, then dismissed his absence- it was 3 am, after all. He leaned his staff against the mantle and tugged the leather string that held up his topknot. His hair fell about his ears when he heard a light woof from the mabari in the shadows to his left; he jumped.

He’d always been at odds with the dog regarding bed space, but since the animal was respecting his wishes tonight, he crouched and offered the scratch of an ear with a lopsided smile.

“Maker, I am tired.” He murmured to the dog. It chuffed in response and returned to it’s slumber.

He dragged the palm of his hand over his face, felt the stubble on his chin. Sighed. Then made his way to the stairs. His eye caught the goblet on the small table nestled against the wall. He made a beeline for it.

“What a darling man,” he murmured aloud as he gulped the half alcohol half medicine down.

It was succor to help him sleep that Hawke, dabbling in herbs, had concocted just for him. It seemed to keep Justice more subdued and it was only with a twinge of guilt that he did so; a night of rest would do himself and his patients good. It worked quickly, however, so after he finished it off, he made his way for the stairs. The familiar tingling in his body began and he felt Justice mentally shift within him and recede. Anders thought longingly of the cool sheets and warm body of the man he loved waiting for him a few steps away.

He pulled the door open with that thought in mind, getting fuzzy and already reaching for the ties for his trousers at his waist. Half lidded from exhaustion and eyes not accustomed to the dim light within, it was with his first intake of breath that it struck him. The smell in the room was that of sweat and the humidity laid immediately upon his skin. A prick of ozone that marked the presence of both lyrium and stamina potions.

The sounds came second, a moan and the dull slap of wet skin on skin. Then his golden eyes adjusted to the light and he stumbled to a stop, shocked and staring, his throat suddenly parched.

His eyes darted from one location to the next. In dismay, he did not know where to settle them, so his ears chose for him, honing in on the moaning that had grown louder.

Fenris had Isabella pinned. The voluptuous pirate’s back to the wall in front of the armoire, her smock peeled down round her waist with her left leg hiked up and wrapped around the muscular elf’s slender waist. Her left arm hooked round his neck. Her right arm was down at her right thigh working on with the man standing there. Sebastion, legs slightly parted and hips rocking gently into the pirate’s fisted palm. Even as Fenris pushed steadily into her, jostling her leg with each thrust, Isabella enthusiastically added her own encouraging instructions.

“That’s it,” she gasped. “Good boys know how to-” But she was cut off with Fenris leaning in and biting her lip as he thrust particularly deep up into her lips.

“Shut up and take it,” Fenris growled, jerking up into her more aggressively.

Merrill sat on the edge of the bed, completely nude. Her right knee bent, foot on the bed, as her right hand worked between her legs, her left hand reaching back to hook round the strong neck of Hawke himself, who pressed up against her from behind, kneeling nude himself. He whispered words Anders could not hear into her ear as he rolled Merril’s left nipple between two fingers. Merril’s breath hitched now and then with a little squeak as her fingers worked more quickly.

With a loud grunt, Fenris thrust one final time into Isabella’s wet depths And Isabella shuddered, whether in an orgasm of her own or deeper arousal, Anders could only guess.

Fenris disengaged himself and Isabella cried out in needy want, reaching.

“There there, pet, Sebastion has a hot prick waiting for that cunt of yours.” Hawke’s deep voice lazily called out over Merril’s shoulder. Hawke’s own hot prick was swollen and twitching, red and vivid against the small of Merril’s pale lower back. “Just lean up against that mantle and invite him. After Fenris,” Hawke interupted himself with a dirty chuckle, “It should be easy enough for him to slip right in.”

Isabella barely had time to turn before the rogue grasped her and turned her himself, burying himself to the hilt as Isabella gripped the border of the fireplace for balance.

Fenris had not moved from standing idly by, his cock only flagging slightly as it dribbled a string of cum to the carpet. His gaze was unfocused, his chest flushed from his recent orgasm.

“Anders!” Hawke suddenly exclaimed, catching sight of him in the doorway, a delighted smile on his bearded face.

Anders heart jumped. His mind was fuzzy, he was confused. The reality of it felt muted, yet every detail so vivid as his gaze socked in every small and torrid detail. A wet sucking noise from Isabella’s cunt as Sebastion pulled out for another thrust. Merril’s arm working to frig herself more quickly. Crinkles at the corner of his Hawke’s blue eyes from his smile; as if nothing was out of place. As though Hawke’s cock bobbing as he turned toward Anders on the bed was a natural occurrence with so many witnesses.

Fenris shifted, his cock still dribbling slowly. Hawke, momentarily distracted from greeting Anders, turned towards the two elves. His cock gently struck against Merril’s back and a high pitched moan escaped her as her own left hand took up where Hawke’s had vacated at her own left breast.

Hawke spoke. “Fenris, you’re making a mess,” he chided, as if Fenris had made some childish error. “Clean yourself then attend to Merril here. She needs attention, and I have our guest of honor to greet.”

Fenris nonchalantly took his hand to the base of his cock, and in one long gripping motion, went from base to tip. The leavings of his pleasure collected upon his palm and fingers. Just as casually, he put his hand up to his mouth, lathing his tongue over it thoroughly, and sucking each finger.

Turning abruptly, he fell to his knees at the bedside. He bent forward, nuzzling at Merril’s busy hand until she took her fingers way. She buried her slick fingers directly into his white damp hair, dragging him to work upon her eagerly with a moan.

“Andraste, sweet bride, cast from me these thoughts of sin. I only think of you,” The lilt marked the man more clearly than the form in the shadows did. That was definitely Sebastion violently fucking Isabella as if his soul depended on it.

“Anders,” Hawke said quietly, now before him.

He tore his golden eyes off the tablue. Hawke had said his name so lovingly, as it had been said a thousand times. Hawke came close to him, and he did not step away. Hawke’s smile faded, and he looked sympathetically into his eyes. Hawke’s hand, calloused, came to his cheek.

“Poor heart,” Hawke murmured. “I’m sure you must find this all confusing.”

Anders blinked, slowly. “Is this…” he struggled for words as his golden eyes looked once more to the scene at his left.

“Real?” he finally managed to ask.

Sebastion’s hips steadily thrust into Isabela’s round behind and added a loud slap to it.

“Fuck!” Isabella exclaimed.

“It’s very real, Anders, I am not sorry to say.” Hawke replied, leaning in to kiss Ander’s fore head.

Anders did not pull away, whether from shock, or habit, or due to the aching love he felt in his heart for this man. Seeing that as encouragment, Hawke kissed him gently on the mouth. Leaning back just so that there were a few inches between their mouths.

Hawke added, blissfully. “I am so glad you can finally join our reality. Anders.”

“I release these feelings,” Sebastion shouted, breathily, gasping at his work, eyes focused in prayer.

“In your nngh-,”the rogue stuttered, his pace picking up. His eyes scrunched up as he took in short breaths.

“In your name!” he shouted, pounding into Isabella as she squealed her own wordless encouragement, pushing back to meet his thrusts enthusiastically.

The rogue stiffened, biting his lip and digging his fingers into Isabella curvy hips. “Unnnnnnghhhh….” he exclaimed, and collapsed against the back of Isabella.

The pirate faltered under the sudden weight, but recovered enough to keep from falling to her knees. She and Sebastion panted a few moments, catching their breath. Sebastion pulled out, strings of cum, both his and Fenris’, dripping out of Isabella’s cunt.

Merril fell backwards against the bed, using her feet to thrust her hips, her sopping pussy, into Fenris’ attentive mouth. Her cries were sharp with her own hard earned release for many seconds, before she collapsed back onto the tousled sheets of the four poster bed.

Hawke put his hands on Anders’ shoulders. Anders did not struggle, falling to his knees. Hawke’s big hands rifled through his hair, and he felt a tingling, a dizziness for a moment. He rocked where he kneeled, only Hawke’s guiding hands keeping him from falling onto his side to the carpet. The feeling receded, and in its place, a calm, but his vision slightly blurry.

“That’s a good boy,” Hawke encouraged, murmured, above him. “This is all as it should be.”

Hawke’s cock tip rubbed against his lips, generous pre cum smearing across them like a salty balm. Anders’ vision became clear, and a sharp urge to take Hawke’s cock into his mouth near overwhelmed him. He fought it, even as his parched throat suddenly moistened from salivation. That scent, so familiar, so welcome in the past. Yet there was also something else.

He fought the urge even as his cock surged strong against his own trousers. He must. He must…

“How is this happening?” he finally, with all his might, uttered. But it was half as strong as he’d meant it to be, and ended with him kissing the tip of Hawke’s cock lovingly. Both the taste of copper as well as salt permeated Anders’ tastebuds.

“Well,”Hawke replied, rocking his mouth against Ander’s lips, encouraging him to open through body language alone.

Anders relented, sucking the cock into his mouth like a starving man, and everything felt both absolutely as it should be and horribly wrong. He tasted blood. He could feel Justice shifting within, and a feeling of confused hope sparked within. Even while Hawke’s pubic hairs tickled his nose, and the tip of Hawke’s cock nudged the back of his throat.

“Shhhh,”Hawke said suddenly, rubbing his scalp one more.

The tingling dizziness returned, and Justice receded once more to the depths.

“Good. Now, where was I?” Hawke asked of the room, pulling his cock out slowly, giving Anders a moment to breath.

Hawke pushed inevitably back in, tugging on his hair, and triggering Anders’ gag reflex slightly. The sensation of nausea went quickly away.

“I guess this all began with Merril teaching me blood magic. The idea for all THIS fun, however,” Hawke said, pulling his cock almost all the way out of Anders mouth.

Anders whimpered, fearing the loss, and knowing that feeling was wrong both at the same time.

Hawke continued. “Was the day I returned Keran to the Templar order.”

Hawke began slowly pumping into Anders’ mouth, half depth thrusts. “Macha was SO appreciative.”

Hawke thrust suddenly and deeply into his mouth, and Anders deep throated him eagerly. Anders moaned in satisfaction, his own cock throbbing for attention.

“She sent me a letter to meet with her.”

~TBC~

Chapter Text

Hawke interrupted himself. “Isabella,” he chided gently. “what a mess on my carpet.”

“Sebastian,” Hawke ordered. “I’m sure the Chantry says something soulfully important about cleanliness. Use your mouth for action! Instead of words.”

Sebastian stood naked for a moment as he seemed to process the order. Moments later, he knelt and began to lick the carpet.

Hawke barked a laugh as he began a steady rhythm in and out of Anders mouth. “That’s the spirit!”

Hawke’s gaze turned back on Anders. “Where was I? Oh yes. It was a long trip into the Deep Roads. Merrill and I talked much about her specific expertise. As we talked, I remembered our experience with Idunna, rest her wicked soul. Yes, I broke free of her influence, but the jolt of arousal from nowhere she had caused within me with her magic I recalled vividly. I made sure to ask Merril about her trip to talk to the demon on Mount Sundermount.”

Hawke paused his dialogue as he shuddered, then groaned as he took a deep intake of breath. Hawke stiffened but did not orgasm.

“Naive girl didn’t have a clue.” Hawke said. “I didn’t receive the letter from Macha until long after we’d gotten back from the Deep Roads. Lost among our things in the flurry to move into the Amell Estate. Bodahn found it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Mesere Hawke,
Keran is doing so well in the Order, and we have only you to thank for vouching on his behalf that he is able to afford stable living for our father and myself. If there is anything we could do to repay you, we shall do our best. Father has tasked me with reaching out to offer an open invitation to our residence for refreshments if you so happen to be in the area.
Our heartfelt thanks,
Macha.”

“Bodahn,” He said, placing the letter back on the desk. “Fetch me a bottle of brandy, please, without delay. I have a call to make on an old neighbor.”

Excitement felt tight in his chest as his cock shifted in his trousers. If there was anyone to test out what he’d learned from the demon, it was her. The insipid worshipful nature Macha espoused ensured the risks would be low.

Congenial, Bodahn delivered the bottle quickly enough. “Will your mother being joining you to visit your old neighbor?”

Hawke was already shaking his head. “She will not be joining me on this social call. Thank you, Bodahn, that will be all. I’ll be going up to change, then heading out”

Wanting privacy, Hawke went upstairs to his bedroom. He sat the brandy bottle on the mantle, then took a dagger from his chest. Going back to the bottle, he uncorked it. Grabbing the dagger, he pricked his thumb, then let several drops of his blood drip into the bottle. Setting the dagger onto the mantle as well, he sucked on his thumb, then used his free hand to cup but not quite touch the bottle.

He let the dark secrets he learned whisper into his mind as he focused the dark magic upon the bottle. A dull miasma formed round the bottle before entering through the mouth of the bottle. It darkened the liquid within to black, before fading away to leave what appeared to be normal brandy. Hawke corked it once more, then turned to leave.

Sandal stood in his doorway, his empty bright eyes staring. They stared at each other a long moment.

“Enchantment.” Sandal murmured, with a grimmer tone than usual. Then turned around and left.

Hawke shrugged it off, and headed out.
~~~~~
Hawke bypassed Gamlen’s home on his right and went straight up to Macha’s family hovel. He didn’t miss Lowtown in the slightest; it was only this opportunity that caused it to hold interest for him now. He headed up the stairs, and knocked. He heard shuffling sounds within, and then Masha cracked the door open, weary of strangers. Recognition spread cross her face and she widened the door.

Her tone was shocked. “Ha-- Masere Hawke.” She stuttered. “What a pleasure to see you again.” She blinked, unsure.

“The same, Macha.” He held up the bottle of brandy. “I bear a gift for your father.”

“Oh, Hawke,” Macha exclaimed, appreciation glowing. She accepted it from him. “Father will love this, he’s in the back room now taking a nap.”

There was a long moment with them both standing in the doorway. Hawke half smiled. “If I could come in?”

Embarrassed and uncomfortable, Macha looked behind her, considering briefly. Then stepped back, her arm motioning him to come in. “Of course, Father would be quite displeased if we didn’t welcome someone who’s helped this family so much.”

“I should wake my father so he can enjoy your visit.” She turned and hurried to set the brandy bottle on a shelf near their hearth. After doing so, she turned was startled to find him right behind her.

“Oh.” She exclaimed softly, looking up at him with doe eyes. She swallowed, and stepped away slightly.

Hawke smiled charmingly. “Pardon me, Macha.” He reached out to catch her hand gently. Her eyes grew large. “I didn’t come to visit with your father.”

Miasma seeped from his hand into hers unnoticed, as she stared at him, her mouth slightly parted in shock. Keeping his eyes trained on hers, he bowed slightly as he moved to kiss the back of her hand. At the last moment, he tugged her the three steps into his arms and kissed her squarely on the mouth. He enjoyed her large soft chest pressing into his, before she suddenly pushed away.

“Masere!” She exclaimed, hushing herself halfway through as she glanced at the door way to the back room where her father rested.

“I don’t even know what to say!” She harshly whispered, her cheeks flushed, and her chest rising and falling quickly.

Stepping away to increase the distance, she crossed her arms as she looked at him. “I think I should ask you to leave.”

Hawke raised his hands. “I’m sorry, Macha. I couldn’t help myself, the way you-- but that is neither here nor there. I will vacate the premises immediately and never darken your door again.”

Macha moved to open the door for him, but he stopped her. “I’ll let myself out. Once again, I apologize for disturbing you. I just thought- but I digress. Have a good evening.”

He closed the door behind himself. Then, carefully, glanced through the window past the bare curtains to within. He saw her touch her own lips with the hand he’d grasped. His eyes glowed red briefly, and saw her slowly start to rub her lips as her eyes gained a distant look. Stepping away, the smile on his face was one of dark success.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A week later, Hawke was once more at Macha’s door. Formal wear bearing the Amell Emblem, he knocked. Macha cracked the door, guarded. She looked around him.

“Where is Keran? His letter said he would be attending with you.”

“Keran couldn’t come after all,” Hawke replied, regretfully with a sympathetic expression.

“There were several murders in darktown, obviously caused by a mage. He was assigned to investigate.” Hawke looked expectantly at her.

Macha frowned. “Masere Hawke, after last time, I must--”

“Macha! Who is it?” A male voice boomed from behind the girl and the door was pulled open wide. A tall slender man with faded ginger hair looked over Hawke with a squint. Then laughed.

“Why, it’s Masere Hawke! Come in, come in.” He motioned Hawke inward. “I had told Macha to make sure you knew you were always welcome. Especially after the gift of that brandy- superb. I’d not afford it myself on my own, and I’m not too humble to say so.”

The father got a distant look in his eyes. “Speaking of that brandy…” He trailed off, distracted. He harumphed, coming back into the moment. “If it’s not too early for you, Masere, I could get us some right on the spot. It’s in my room.”

Hawke smiled charmingly, clasping his arms in front of himself. “That sounds like an excellent idea, ser. I’ll keep Miss Macha company while you are gone.”

The father had already turned. “It won’t be but a moment, ser. Just a moment…” he mumbled, going into his room and leaving the door partially open behind him.

Hawke seemed not at all perturbed by the strange behavior as he turned his gaze on Macha. He took a step closer toward her, and it was not within her to step away. Her eyes were wide once more.

“Macha,” He said quietly, his tone conciliatory as he once again caught her hand. She looked toward his father’s doorway, but heard no movements to indicate the man’s return.

Hawke held one of her hands while stroking the back of it with the other. She stood there, seemingly frozen, even as her cheeks flushed. “I was not much of a gentleman on my last visit and I’ve been wracked with regret.”

He took a step closer. “I must admit,” he spoke quietly, forcing her to listen intently to understand. He tilted his head and gazed at her intensely.

“When I look at you, I just feel... so... warm.”

He brought up his left hand to slowly reach for her cheek, watching her closely as she did not pull away. Making contact, he took another step closer, and she gazed up at him.

“I know you feel the same way, Macha.” He said, miasma wisping from his hands and into her skin unnoticed.

Macha slowly blinked, then replied as if she were groggy. “I feel the same...way.”

She blushed fiercely, then took a sharp intake of breath. She did not pull out of his near embrace as she murmured. ”I’m sorry, Masere, I don't know what made me so forward.”

"Oh really?" Hawke replied idly, before very intently bringing her hand upward.

His eyes locked on hers, he kissed the inside of her wrist, slowly, brushing his lips against the fluttering pulse there. Lingering as she watched.

“I’ve been haunted by the embrace we shared.” He wet his lips, then kissed her wrist again. The moisture left her skin cool. She shivered, but not because she was cold.

“I can tell it’s done the same for you.”

Her lips parted as the memory of his last visit overwhelmed her. She swallowed but did not reply, her eyes locked on his lips.

“I know you want another one. A proper kiss.”

Her breathing picked up, and she just looked up at Hawke helplessly, her eyes pleading. Finally she managed a breathless murmur.

“Yes.”

Tingles and warmth spread throughout her just from admitting it, and Hawke neared her face with his own.
“May I kiss you, Macha?” He murmurs, his breath warm against her skin.

She nodded, unable to manage another word.

He kissed her and her body was flooded with unfamiliar sensation. His tongue slipped into her mouth as he tilted her chin to deepen the kiss. She never knew kisses felt like his. He pulled his mouth away to pepper kisses down her neck. She gasped, unprepared, but let her head fall back rather than pulling away. Hawke’s hand raised and cupped her breast. Her breath caught; she stilled. He begins to knead it, pinching her nipple through the cloth of her bodice, and she let a small moan escape her.

A clatter in the other room shattered the moment and she started. She leaned away, but can’t find it in herself to pull completely away. She felt warm and drowsy; an unfamiliar throb in her loins confused her.

Hawke dipped his lips against hers once more, and dizzy, she returned it. Hawke broke it off, then kissed her forehead.

“I must go. I’m glad I came.” He stepped out of her arms, and she grasped the back of the kitcchen chair to steady herself.

Opening the door, Hawke turned to look at her. A brief glimpse of what appeared to be triumph confused her even more, before it turned to sincerity.

“Think of me, Macha. Let’s meet again soon.” And he closed the door quietly behind him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The first thing she did was check in on her father. To her great surprise, she found him slumped over into his his chair. She left him to his rest. She paced the entirety of their home in twenty steps, forward, and back.

His intense eyes. His dark hair. Had she always thought of him thus? Had she been pining for him, her household’s hero, and not even known it? She must have, to let him take so many liberties, even though a week before she had scarcely thought of him. She must have had some devotion within her that sparked up once more upon seeing him. Feeling him… a pinch of her nipple made her realize she’d been kneading her breast while she thought of Hawke.

Alarmed, she went to a water pitcher and splashed herself in the face. What was wrong with her? She’d never felt this way, she’d never touched herself--like that! Flustered, she went to the corner of the room where cloth hung on strings to fashion herself a room for privacy. She threw herself on her cot.

What had he said? He’d said looking at her made him feel warm. That she felt the same. And it must be true, for she’d felt warm even as he gazed at her then. Even now, as she remembered it, it seemed a heat was growing across her skin, across her body.

“Oh Maker,” she exclaimed softly, as she stood up briefly to unbutton her dress.

It was far too hot in here, she could barely stand it, even as she stood in nothing but her pantaloons and breast bindings. She sat back down on the cot. She dropped her head forward in discomfort, and rubbed the back of her neck. Her hand went from comfort, to stroking, and the stroking path led her to her own breast again. She stopped, her heart beating quickly, as she rested it there. What was she doing?

“Oh,” She exclaimed softly, as she gripped her own breast roughly in her hand eagerly.

She remembered what she was doing. She lay back against her cot, bending her knees, giving her free hand a moment to sooth the pulsing between her legs.
She was thinking of Massere Hawke.