Insomniac in Bed
Summary: The party was fun, but now it's time for sleep. Too bad that Marian Hawke, Merrill, and Anders aren't actually tired. . . .
Rating: M for sexual situations (F!Hawke/Merrill/Anders)
Notes: A stand-alone story that serves as a "lost" or "alternate chapter" to Chapter 9 of "Dreams of the Insomniac. Takes place sometime before Act II.
I. A mage on either side
The Midsummer party had been fun. I don't want to sleep, of course, because I never do, but I am grateful all the same to finally be prone and finally in bed. The two mages on either side of me are an unexpected yet delightful bonus.
Aveline had suggested Merrill and Anders spend the night; she pointed out that the City Guard (and Templars, by extension) would be out in force. It was no bother; nearly everyone wound up spending the night anyway: Varric sprawled out on a couch in front of the fireplace downstairs; Isabela and Fenris holed up in a room by the library. . . and Merrill, Anders, and I in my room.
We had intended to drink and talk and make merry, but weariness won. Finding rooms and linens for everyone seemed too much a chore, so we all piled into my bed. It is large and soft, and I have not liked sleeping in it alone. Sometimes I miss the floor at Gamlen's house, if only because Bethany was nearby. I miss having someone to talk to or having someone else's breathing to help send me to sleep.
Now, with a warm body snuggled on either side, I can relax and enjoy the comfort – the fluffiness of the pillow, the softness of the mattress, the warmth of the blanket. For once, I do not have to focus on my own loneliness, sadness, or physical ailments. I'm not as drunk as I had expected to be, so I let my mind wander.
If only Bethany could see me now. Or Isabela. Sharing a bed with two beautiful creatures. And sn actual bed, too, not a campsite, not a floor. We should do this more often. Would Mother let me keep them all, all these wayward souls? I want them all near me – not just Anders or Merrill, but Isabela and Varric and Fenris too. And Aveline, not that she would ever have me.
Aveline, of the soft smiles and glowing green eyes. Strong in every sense of the word, yet graceful in carriage. Literally full of grace. We do not see eye-to-eye very much, but I have clung to her. Sometimes. . .sometimes I wish she would love me. She knows my tragedies. Ah well. You can't win every heart.
Do I even need to win a heart? I wonder. My companions are so attractive and charming (most of the time) that I cannot help but flirt. Do I flirt because I want love, or sex, or because – because the flirting helps to keep a distance? After all, it is easy to keep the mood happy and light if I am busy flattering everyone.
I've never been in love. Because of this, I expect to keep on as I have: loving many but not committing to just one. Safer. Mother fell in love, and look at all the trouble it brought her. Who would love me anyway? Sure, I'm no apostate or escaped slave, but I have my neurosis. I've killed an awful lot of people. I have an excellent knack for getting into trouble. And one horrible day my looks will fade.
My reverie breaks when I feel something press against my side. Against either side. My companions had been asleep, so what is that. . . . Is that grinding? Yes, I think so. From either side. Soft, tentative gestures from Merrill. Strong and more rhythmic ones from Anders.
I stay perfectly still, holding my breath and trying to slow my heart. What should I do? I have read about situations like this in some of those books Isabela has lent me, but. . . . I am suddenly put in mind of my teen years, of furtive touching and sneaking in the darkness. Playing at sexuality, before figuring out how to embrace it.
Embrace it. The perfect course of action.
I draw them both close and muster my most seductive tone. "Hey. Hey. Are you awake?"
Smoooooooooth.
I am rewarded with a kiss on the cheek (Anders) and a running commentary (Merrill).
"I'm so sorry. Did I wake you? It's so nice to be here, and I'm usually alone. It's nice not to be alone. I just couldn't sleep. And I – I've never done this before. I'm sorry, I'll - "
I like Anders's idea, so I steal it, kissing Merrill on her cheek. "Merrill. It's okay. We're all adults here. The important thing is – do you want to be here? Do you want to do this," here I grind against her "do you want to be with us?"
She places her hand on my hip. "I do, Hawke."
"Anders?"
He chuckles softly. "When I was a much younger, different man, I did this all the time. It is different now. I don't think Justice understands. But I very much want to be here with you, right now."
Okay, Hawke, keep the momentum going. "I'm glad to be here. With both of you. I want it."
I draw both close to me, until we are all just a pile of bodies. I kiss Anders's forehead, then Merrill's. This was not what I expected. The weirdest part is that it's not the sex that is so unexpected, or even the threesome, but the fact I feel alive. Trite, perhaps, but for now I can focus on just my body, and the bodies of two people I care about. Love, pleasure, and devotion are all that matter; we can continue saving the world tomorrow. This is not where I expected to be, but I am very glad to be here.
Merrill softly kisses my cheek and neck, as light as a butterfly. Her movements are quick and airy. I want to touch her, but I fear she will break. Meanwhile, Anders has pushed down the neck of my shirt, nipping at shoulder while lightly playing with my nipple. I should have a lover on either side every time. I shall convert to the Church of Isabela.
Softness on one side, hardness on the other keeps me off-balance. My senses are over-stimulated, magnifying every touch, bite, lick, and sound. I writhe, but really I want to jump off the bed – it's excessive in an almost child-like way, like eating too many sweets.
I twine my left arm around Ander's head, twisting my fingers in his hair. Gracefully, I hope, I elongate my neck – providing more real estate for Merrill and allowing me to kiss Anders. His lips are full and I cannot help but draw his lower lip in and suck on it. He sighs, and I let go. As deftly as I can (my bed feels too small suddenly), I roll onto my right side, facing Merrill. I press against Anders; he buries his right arm under my head and his left arm rests on my hip, his hand alternating between my breasts and torso.
In turn, I lay my own arm on Merrill's side, running my fingers up and down her back. In response, she arches her back. I kiss her, trying for softness at first. She is delicate but eager. I think she is surprised by my tongue, but quickly learns to move her own. I replace my finger tips on her back with my finger nails. Merrill moans softly at the added pressure.
Anders pinches my left nipple and rolls it between his fingers, finishing with a gentle tug. I grind into him, feeling his hardness through our thin bedclothes. The blanket is woven through our legs. His right hand tugs at my earlobe and then his left hand slips to between my legs. I try not to jump as his fingers tease.
I dip my head, kissing Merrill's chest, sucking on her nipple through her chemise. She gasps. I do not know how much experience Merrill has, but I want to be gentle. I want her to know that everything is wonderful. I want to live in this moment, but I also want to quench the fire building in my nerves.
"Merrill," I whisper, "lay on your back."
"Okay," she replies shakily.
As she moves, I sit up, dragging Anders with me. I kiss him again, moving to his jaw and neck. I run my tongue from shoulder to ear. I try to explain my plan. "Let me – with Merrill – then you and I -"
He cups my head, taking another kiss. "I'll be waiting."
As I move to Merrill, out of the corner of my eye, I see him removing his bed-shirt. Another excellent idea. I wonder if he has a chapter on this kind of thing in his manifesto?
"May I remove your clothes, Merrill?" I ask. She nods. I pull at the hem beneath her thighs; she raises her legs, then bottom, back, shoulders, until it is over her head. I smile at her.
"Has anyone told you how pretty you are?" She blushes.
I start at her collar bone, kissing and licking. Down to her nipples, then her stomach. I gently part her thighs, lying between them on my stomach. She lifts herself up on her elbows. "What are you – oh!"
No one ever told me this, but one of the most wonderful things about sex is how different each encounter is, even with the same partner. Of course, the variation from person to person (or person to elf) is all the more wondrous, how one person can like this, another person like that. Exploring another person sexually is like exploring an undiscovered country. It is thrilling.
I use my tongue to explore Merrill's folds, trying different tactics and trying to gauge her reaction. She smiles and wiggles, and so I think she enjoys herself, but she is also rather quiet. Her thighs tighten around my head from just a simple up and down (back and forth?) motion. Tip to tail. Sometimes the simplest solution is best. I reach up to her breasts, struggling a little to keep my own balance and concentrate on where my own body is at. The combination of nipples and clitoris draw forth a moan.
I increase the speed of my fingers, pinching and flicking, trying my best to pay attention to both nipples, alternating hands. I increase the speed of my tongue, nipping and flicking. Merrill bucks her hips, her breathing fast. A soft, wordless sound escapes her throat. I slow my ministrations, then stop.
Pushing myself up, I smile. Merrill looks at me through low lidded eyes. "Hawke! I – that – thank you."
I gently lower myself on top of her, hugging her, and sharing another kiss or two. "My pleasure! And yours, too, I hope."
As I move back to the middle of the bed, wiping my face and trying to work out the kinks in my muscles, she asks, "What should I. . .is there something. . . ?"
"Relax and enjoy yourself." She nods and closes her eyes.
Anders is fast at my side, nuzzling my shoulder. "Did you miss me," I ask?. He does not speak but instead bites my shoulder in response.
I turn over, facing him. I cup his chin, bringing him in for a kiss, then slide my hand down his chest and stomach. He winds his fingers in my hair. I reach down, grasping his erection; he draws in a breath.
"Maker, just take me," I whisper.
He is quick and I am ready, laying on my back, reaching, drawing his face to mine. I nod and he thrusts in. I let out a moan and then steal another kiss. He evades and sucks on my nipple instead. I let my head roll back, enjoying the sensation – nip, tug, tongue circle, repeat – enjoying being here, in this body, in this place, in this time. My hips try match to match his, as well as my own, irregular, breathing.
Releasing my nipple, he gives me a look that is a smile, but not exactly. Bracing himself on his left arm, he reaches his right arm between us. I feel his hand were our bodies meet – "Yes," I growl – and then I feel – a jolt? It is a shockwave at the center of my being. A wave of blue and purple that washes over me, drenching me. I feel another jolt – it is softer but longer, a pleasant vibration. I can feel the waves of orgasm build from the combination of . . . (magic?). . .and thrusting, and also love and fantasies and the beautiful people in my bed and now, now, I want to prolong everything, but the moment of clarity is what sends me over the edge. I cry out. Anders removes his hand, collapsing on top of me, his head buried in my neck, and he moans into my shoulder as his own orgasm over takes him.
Slowly, we part. I look over to Merrill, whose eyes are bright. "I must learn that."
As I catch my breath, I manage to say, "Oh, there's time, there's time."
Anders still pants. "Thank you, Hawke."
I laugh. "Everyone is thanking me! There's no need. Sometimes we just need. . ." I look from one mage to the other. "We just need each other."
I remove my own nightshirt, now sweat soaked, and snuggle back into my pillows, a mage on either side.