Disclaimer: Bioware own everything, I own nothing; no profit made, lots of fun had.
Author's notes: My first attempt at The Smut. Hawke's first name is Rael. Set sometime in ActII because ActIII Hawke/Anders is depressing as hell.
"When I gave you the study, I'd assumed you might still find some use for the bedroom."
Hawke's voice, low and rough-edged with sleep pulled Anders from the haze of exhaustion that had had him finding his way through the estate more by rote memory than vision.
"The clinic's been so busy it was just easier to sleep th-"
"Horseshit. You haven't opened the clinic for the last four days. Trust me, I checked."
"There's something I need to do; it's just-"
"No, I don't think so. I think we have more important matters to discuss. Tonight. Now."
Anders started to snap a response at being treated like a child caught sneaking food from the kitchen but the look in Hawke's eyes from where he leant against the bedroom's doorframe gave him pause. Flat, unyielding, stating very clearly that the moment was a point of no return; yet betraying no hint of whether he'd actually do anything to stop Anders from simply leaving; which meant that Hawke was very angry.
"Fine" Anders replied curtly, moving to the bedroom; Hawke followed closely behind him, the door closing heavily an inch away from a slam. Hawke crossed without pause to the small side table against one wall where a decanter and glasses sat, pouring two measures of the deep amber liquid in short angry motions and then shoving one into Anders' grasp "Drink it."
"What's in it?"
Hawke snorted without humour, emptying his own in a single swallow "Nothing beyond the obvious; I'm not going to drug you to keep you here if that's what you're worried about."
"Then what-"
"Because I know you still enjoy it; mostly because I know it pisses him off"
"Pisses him- Justice? That's what this is about?" Anders drank, not registering the contents, knowing this might be what Hawke wanted but at that moment not especially caring, as anger briefly burnt away some of the weariness. "Please, feel free to talk amongst yourselves as if I'm not here-"
The glass fell from Anders' hand as Hawke reached him in two quick steps, his hands knotting in the front of Anders' robes to shove him back against the full length heavy framing hanging mirror, which swung then settled. Before Anders could do more than blink Hawke's lips ground against his, his teeth worrying at Anders' lower lip as his tongue delved in to trail heat across the inside of his mouth. Anders yielded to the demand, startled by the warning less change in the confrontation; his hands reached up, uncertain whether he wanted to push Hawke away or pull him close-
"Don't imagine" Hawke growled, breaking the kiss abruptly and pulling back just enough that Anders could still feel the breath of his words "that this is going to be a conversation. Your passenger will shut up and listen very carefully." One hand ripped at the fastenings of Anders' coat (several of which probably wouldn't survive the encounter) the other bruisingly gripped Anders' chin holding it to meet Hawke's gaze, the tiny flecks of black and gold in his irises backlit by the fire in the deep brown behind them. "Yes, I can see it in your eyes when he's fucking with your head. I can see it now."
Anders closed his eyes briefly as Hawke resumed his assault on Anders' clothing, removing coats, belt, tunic, and acknowledged the truth of Hawke's words. While no longer trying to exert direct control nearly as often, Justice had adopted the subtler but no less effective method of remaining a constant unrelenting pressure bordering on pain, a need to be taking action, digging in like a splinter in a wound. Anders had spent the past four days trying to outrun the outside of his own head, and Maker but he was so tired…
Teeth nipped sharply at one now bared nipple and Anders' eyes flew open with a gasp. "Don't move your hands" Hawke ordered, pulling the mage's hands down to splay his palms against the cool, slick surface of the mirror on either side.
As his trousers and smallclothes were dragged in one swift stroke to pool at his feet, Anders realised that despite being literally caught in the middle of an increasingly heated territorial dispute, the heat wasn't all bad as he seemed to be growing more awake, more aroused, and very much more uncaring of whatever else was supposed to be happening that evening. Also aware that this was entirely the fault of the man standing before him, his short silken robe hanging open to frame the slender, compact muscle of his body; its expensive fabric contrasting with the ragbag-rejected worn cotton trousers underneath that had been cut so short to barely cover the curve of his ass (even before the frayed patch), or his growing interest.
"Consider this" Hawke growled, his stubble rough as his teeth marked a line from earlobe to collarbone, every touch drawing a gasp from the mage "a wake-up call" Anders cried out, jerking away as Hawke bit down hard over the pulse point behind the bone, almost drawing blood, "about what you'll get from him." His hands traced quick, rough strokes across Anders' skin, brushing and pinching nipples, raking red lines over ribs; and every touch sent maddening, featherlight caresses of that bloody robe against Anders' freed and now achingly hard cock.
"He's taken your cause as his, and now you're just a means to an end. And he will use you" Hawke thrust his groin against Anders', rolling against him and drawing a shuddering moan from the mage at the sensation of hot flesh and cloth "and not give a fuck about the cost, until you're no longer useful. And if you die" Hawke pulled away abruptly "he'll find another host, or maybe just use your corpse for a while, and not care." Hawke's hand tangled in Anders' hair, tugging his head back against the mirror. "I might lose you to many things" Hawke snarled "but I will not lose you to an empty voice inside your head. And I will make sure he sees that."
Abruptly Hawke sank to his knees, his hands kneading up and down Anders' thighs, thumbs tracing around the edge of his crotch before finally leaning forward to take Anders' cock in his mouth. His lips settled just below the head as his tongue rolled in slow circles, occasionally flicking up and over the tip.
"Hawke…Maker please…yes…" Anders' pleas were punctuated by desperate bucking to please please please gain some friction, unsuccessfully. The strength in Hawke's hands pinned his hips, forcing him to endure the excruciatingly slow pace as Hawke' lips ghosted down his shaft, taking him in deeper before coming to rest at the base, the lightest pressure of teeth enough to make Anders tremble before teeth trailed a gentle line up the upper surface of his shaft while Hawke's tongue slid hot and wet up the underside, flicking into the cleft at the base of the head before beginning the entire fucking tease again.
Sweat trickling suddenly sent Anders' palms sliding for purchase, eventually clutching at the heavy carving edging the mirror; for some reason his brain chose that moment to process an observation earlier labeled unimportant. On the far wall of the bedroom hung another, identical, not-present-until-tonight mirror and what it reflected when Anders actually bothered to focus was momentarily more distracting than whatever- oh Andraste's flaming sword- Hawke was doing at his crotch. The sight of Hawke kneeling before him, the robe shucked back off his shoulders, the low fire casting just enough light to flicker across the play of fine muscles across his back and arms; and above it Anders' own reflection, wanton need painted across his face for what this man could reduce him to. Unbidden Anders reached out one hand to brush Hawke's sweat-teased hair, thinking nothing beyond convincing himself that the entire scene wasn't simply some terrible hallucination.
Quicker than his tongue the fighter's hand licked out, fingers like steel closing over the mage's wrist and Anders barely swallowed a scream of frustration as Hawke's mouth withdrew from his cock pausing a breath out of reach, anger rekindling in his eyes, the teasing turned to ashes in an instant.
"I said," he hissed, on his feet and Anders found himself roughly spun around to face the glass, his hands pulled wide and again slammed flat against the wall on either side by his head. A hand in his hair wrenched his head back almost to looking at the ceiling, with Hawke's voice in his ear "don't move your hands!"
"You…have another mirror" Anders gasped as the hand left his hair and any remaining items of clothing on bodies were discarded and sent flying, Hawke yanking the mage's feet away from the wall, kicking them apart until Anders was forced to balance his weight on toes and hands. Hawke paused briefly at the redundant statement "Yes. So glad you noticed."
Hips ground against his ass without warning and Anders whimpered at the feel of Hawke's now naked cock pressed against him while his own was nothing but throbbing need and he couldn't get any contact at all…
Hawke ran his thumb down the cleft of Anders' ass, then there was brief pressure followed by pain that rocked him forward with a cry as Hawke breached him with two fingers, spit slicked but it wasn't nearly enough, the pain hot and sharp-edged.
"Is this what you want?" Hawke asked, continuing the rough prep, his fingers thrusting knuckle-deep to scissor and stretch. Anders didn't reply; trying to ride the motions enough to relax and suddenly compelled to lower his gaze from eye height, tracing the faint scratches across his torso as the pain eased a couple of notches towards pleasurable. In the mirror before him he saw mingled through his desire another raw need, to be able to submit, to hand over control without the threat of losing himself, the intimacy of the reveal was suddenly too immediate, too much.
"Getting distracted?" Hawke asked, "Not a good idea." The pain flared again as he abruptly added a third finger then his hand stilled, poised, feeling muscles clench and tremble against the stretch. "Answer me. Is this what you want?"
"Yes" Anders managed, relaxing slightly as Hawke's hand resuming moving but more smoothly, working the stretch in deeper, the pain beginning to dissolve into pulses of pleasure.
"Yes what?"
"I want you to fuck me"
"Ask me nicely for my cock in your ass," Hawke said, his tone almost purring at the whimpers elicited as his length brushed between Anders' cheeks in counterpoint to the motion of his hand "or I might just forget about yours" His free hand ghosted around Anders' hips and came to rest brushing delicately at the edge of the hair at Anders' groin, tantalising everything and touching nothing. Anders' control surrendered.
"Please Hawke…please fuck me- Holy Maker just do it…please now-" Hawke's fingers abruptly withdrew and pressure on his hips and behind one leg dropped Anders to his knees mid pleading, his hands sliding on the wall.
Once again Hawke's hand in his hair brought Anders' head up to meet his own more than a little glazed reflection; yet this time, behind his shoulder, he watched the anger in Hawke's eyes shift to something else, a possessive glint threading through the lust now burning; that he could be the reason for such a look, such a reaction as tonight, made Anders marvel.
"The eyes are supposed to be the windows to the soul so take a good look; tonight you've got an all-around view. You can decide which parts of it you want to keep around later. Right now," Hawke said, desire roughening his words "There's going to be no-one but me while I fuck you out of your skull" as he sheathed himself in Anders in one driving thrust.
Anders cried out wordlessly, shuddering, arching back, the hand in his hair briefly the only thing keeping him from collapsing face first against the mirror. He could feel his pulse pounding with the wet heat sliding inside him as Hawke continued that driving rhythm, rolling his hips to hit that spot deep inside; every tug at his scalp sending pleasure skittering down his neck. A sound that was half gasp, half growl spilled from Hawke's lips as Anders shifted to grind himself back, meeting every thrust, feeling carpet under his feet, plaster under his hands as the tempo of Hawke's hips thudding against his ass increased. In between white flares of firelight off the glass and his own ragged breathing Anders could see reflected Hawke's face above him and Hawke's body riding him as the mirror behind sends the images repeating into infinity; and the look in Hawke's eyes that said Mine! and yet did not want to destroy what it claimed left Anders dizzy.
Hawke's thrusts faltered momentarily, then steadied, the heat was almost molten and there was no possible way Anders could last any longer
"Hawke…finish it…me…holy fuck…can't…Anders' words became inarticulate as mercifully, finally Hawke's hand reached around to grasp his cock, stripping it hard and fast, his fingers brushing against Anders' balls at the base of every upstroke and nothing had felt so fucking amazing until Hawke leant forward and set his teeth hard into the back of Anders' neck, sending a bolt of lightening down his spine and then Anders was crying out hoarsely, bucking against hands and teeth, wet heat spilling over as Hawke screamed his own climax into Anders' neck.
Anders slumped forward to lean his head against the blessed coolness of the mirror, the glass rapidly turning to fog cut with occasional trails of sweat, waiting for the ability to breathe beyond panting. Hawke's head rested on his shoulder, most of his weight spooning Anders' back as his hand stroked gentle caressing circles against Anders' head and neck. Some shaky-legged shuffling ended with both of them sitting against the wall, Hawke's arm across Anders' shoulders pulling the mage half across his chest, half into his lap.
"Rael?" Anders asked eventually, hesitantly as a large part of him screamed to simply shut the fuck up and forget about it, but he'd broken so many promises to so many people that the weight, the debt will not let go "Rael, the…tonight- meeting…please, I'm sorry…there's a ship leaving with the tide- I promised they'd be safe, he won't take them without- I have the papers, the bribes…but if I don't...if he turns them in…please…the Templars…they're already wanted for escaping- they won't get another chance…please…" Anders knew he was babbling but the exhaustion, temporarily banished, was now creeping back in and with it a sudden terror that this request, made now, would destroy everything between him and Hawke all because he just couldn't leave it alone, and Maker have mercy all he wanted right now was to crawl into that bed with Hawke and not have to care about anyone but the two of them…
"Hey, hey. Ssshhh" Hawke cut across the frantic words, reaching round to take Anders' face in both his hands, kissing his forehead, his thumbs wiping away sweat and possibly tears "We go. Finish the job. We come back here. Sleep. No clinic, no fixing problems; quite possibly no leaving this room." A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth but his eyes were serious. Anders reached up to cover one of Hawke's hands with his own "I have no idea what I've done in this life worthy of meeting you."
Grumbling slightly Hawke got to his feet, still holding Anders' hand to draw him up. "Well too late now, you're stuck with me. And I'm not letting go of you that easily." This time it was protectiveness, not possession in his words. "Hope you left a spare pair of boots in the study though, someone seems to have cut the laces on your pair here. Just throw them under the bed; we'll sort them out later." He gave Anders' a grin that might have been thinking about being slightly apologetic if it hadn't been completely overwhelmed by a smirk.
Later, job completed, with the room being soothingly dark and cool and the bed being deliciously warm, Anders fell asleep to the feel of Hawke's body curled around his, the image of brown eyes flecked in black and gold lit by firelight across a mirror, wanting him; and for the first time in longer than he could remember, in the back of his head peaceful stillness.
Author's notes
Original prompt: Mirror kink, possessive sex
To show Justice that Anders belongs to him, M!Hawke fucks Anders in front of a mirror. Bonus if it includes dirty talk.