Fenris wouldn't admit to "stooping so low," and seeking out sexual pleasure in the basement bathroom of a Dark town bar. But the fact of the matter is that, after the life he's had, he needs to know he's in control and can walk away from a tryst at any time. He's nobody's "little wolf." Not anymore.
Hawke and the rest of the companions- dare he say friends?- are most likely half-passed out during a game of Diamondback at The Hanged Man. Fenris has never been the reliable type, and no one would ask questions if he missed a night or two of cards. It was the perfect time to creep down into the depths of Kirkwall and sate urges he'd rather not have. He'd never live it down if Isabella, Varric, or the Abomination knew he was waiting for an anonymous mouth to shove his cock into.
The bathroom stunk as usual. But he didn't come here for the charming atmosphere, and he put up with the smell of decay within his own mansion each night, so it was easy to ignore. Within the stall various crude illustrations- a particularly vivid Commander Meredith doing something most vulgar to a crude stickfigure Orsino - covered the walls. While he waited he would practice his reading on the graffiti left behind, and do his best to ignore the dried spunk of men who, most literally, came before him. He never had to stay too long. Illicit fucks were never in shortage, and he hadn't been turned down yet.
The door creaked open, and Fenris' pointed ears perked at the sound and followed the footfalls to the stall next to his. As was customary, the hole was covered until it was silently negotiated between the parties. The Mystery Man on the other side knocked three times, inviting Fenris to play. He took a deep breath, and removed the flimsy piece of wood that usually covered the glory hole. Already behind it was a pink mouth, the tongue eagerly out, surrounded by dark blonde stubble. The man's breath came out in excited little pants as he waited. Fenris pulled down his leggings, and pushed his smalls aside to pull himself out. The mouth chewed on its lip, waiting for the beginning of what they both came here for.
Gracefully Fenris brought himself up to the stall divider, and pressed himself into the mouth- immediately being met with a low quiet moan, and a series of kitten-like licks before they engulfed the head with a strong suck. Fenris braced both of his hands against the wall. He may need to be in control, but he wasn't going to tell the man what to do, as he obviously had a history of honing his oral skills. Besides, if he spoke someone might recognize him. He couldn't afford to be found- here or elsewhere.
The tongue caressed each curve and ridge. The man wetly traced the vein from top to bottom, hot air tingling against spit-slick skin. Fenris couldn't help but let a low groan escape. He didn't think he'd find such a talented partner tonight. He slowly started to pump his hips deeper into the throat, and out again.
The other man didn't miss a beat, and swallowed around him, letting Fenris into his mouth till the man's chin pressed against his balls. With a hard and loud last suck, the man pulled away.
Fenris slammed his fist hard against the divider. He wasn't going to let the man live, no matter how talented his mouth, if he left him unfinished. A small chuckle was followed by the sound of rustling clothes, and soon Fenris could see pale freckled cheeks and the small hole between them.
Fenris couldn't believe his luck. A quick suck was to be expected, even a sloppy one would have gotten the job done, but this was the first time a man had offered his hole to him.
He studied the picture before him. The man was human, he could tell from the coloring and the build that fit his posterior. Faint scars crisscrossed the man's ass, but Fenris was in no position to judge a man for having scars.
He reached through the hole to drag his fingers across the figure before him, feeling the firm muscle beneath supple skin, and then drew his hand up to fondle the crease. By the time he reached the other man's opening, he could hear the embarrassing whine from the other stall. The man was clearly impatient, but Fenris was in charge and if he wanted to be fucked it would be on Fenris' terms. Probing the hole with a finger, he found it already wet with something that smelled herbal- elfroot perhaps?- and stretched in advance. Fenris couldn't help but smile at how desperate the man before him was becoming, pushing his ass even harder against the hole- trying his best to get more of the man's finger inside him.
With a light push he slipped his index finger fully into the human, smiling at the happy sigh that came from the other stall. It isn't proper etiquette when participating in anonymous sexual favors, so Fenris had to force himself not to call the man a good boy for his submission.
There was nothing Fenris liked more than knowing he was in charge, and safe, when having sex. He'd only recently learned that sex could be a pleasurable thing. The way Isabella and Varric spoke about it, Fenris thought he could at the very least try where no one could know. And Danarius was in the past now.
He was dead.
The thought still sent a shiver of both relief and pleasure down his spine.
After snapping out of his reverie, he noticed the man had started fucking himself on Fenris' finger, and was now panting in quiet frustration. Fenris pulled himself back and brought his cock up to the wet hole before him. He pushed inside in one rough shove. The two men groaned in heated harmony, and Fenris reveled in both the taut heat and soft flesh that gave around him. The other man almost instantly started to rock back and forth, and Fenris once again had to clench his hands up against the stall to keep himself kneeling upright against the waves of pleasure. Deciding to sate his lust the proper way, Fenris pulled away before slamming himself back into the other's body. A litany of breathy squeaks and tenor curses poured out of the mouth that had sucked him so nicely only moments ago. The sounds grew louder as Fenris threw himself harder into the man, banging his sharp hipbones against the cold metal of the stall. He'd have bruises in an hour, but they'd make for fine memories of a hot sheath and a clever tongue.
Fenris found himself growling, wishing to could grab the other man's likely freckled hips and bite at his neck. The pounding of flesh against stall, and the slick slide of their coupling, would have been deafening if Fenris wasn't so focused on one sound in particular. In small puffs, a breathy groan or a whimper would be pushed out of his partner. For such an anonymous fuck, Fenris felt more in tune with this body than others before.
He could feel the rising heat build and coil within him when he heard the other man release onto the dirty floor, and a soft stuttered word that finally pushed him over the edge.
"F-fenris…"
His eyes snapped open and, coming harder than he'd ever had, he emptied into the tight clench of the body before him. Still spilling into the man deeply, Fenris found himself frozen in shock.
Once his mind was clearer, pleasure was immediately replaced with abject suspicion. He pulled out roughly, to confront the man on the other side- the man who recognized him. Who knew his name. Who had silently begged to be fucked through a hole in a bathroom stall. Who had been sent by Danarius? Who planned to blackmail him? To shame him further?
His heart stopped with a fear that Fenris would never let show on his face. He didn't want to see this man. He didn't want to confront this demon. He had too many other monsters waiting in the wings.
The sound of shuffling and hurried dressing started, and Fenris heard the stranger hit himself on the door as he ran. Saw the man's boots rush by beneath the stall door-nearly slipping on the cum stained floor. He waited until the heavy staccato of feet on the rickety bar stairs stopped, before slowly releasing the lock and greeting the empty bathroom. Fenris could almost convince himself that he'd imagined it all, but there in the stall next to him was the splattering of cum, and a few fallen feathers.
Fenris knew those feathers. He'd watched them blow in the wind against a tattered cloak while trekking to the Wounded Coast. He'd mocked them numerous times for small satisfaction between battles. He'd felt them soft against his face when he agreed to be healed. He knew these feathers, and the mage that wore them.
"Anders."
