Fenders/Tingling Velvet
M/M Fenders, kinda like a love story, Anders and Fenris can't deny the attraction they have for each other, but it's not a easy ride to happiness. Drama and fun bits with loads of explicit sex along with the romance.
Anders and Fenris mostly but with a Seb and Isabela sub-plot, not canon, soppy romance bits, rough sex, drugging, bromance, near rape, kittens, blood, drama, death. Really not for under 18's, homophobes, and people who don't like lovely slash or who don't want to see a more fun Seb!
I obviously don't own BioWare or any of their creations.
Ahh Fenders, this is for my lovely friend Tropical fool who introduced me to this whole wonderful world and gave me the confidence to write this. She writes the most delicious smut and you should check her out, http :/ .ne t /u / 2627922 /
My Beta's - Fenders corrupted Nyna, and slash hating Noo
Chapter 1 – Denial
Fenris hurried through the cold evening air of Lowtown, trying to ignore the filth stacked everywhere, broken crates, rubble, discarded food scraps. Watching a rat dart off with a crust in its mouth, he was reminded of his own run down mansion and its inherent rat problem. Muttering to himself he approached his destination.
Walking through the worn door of The Hanged Man, Fenris' spotted his companions sat around a large wooden table. As he made his way towards it, a quick glance told him everybody was there...even Anders.
At the sight of the mage, Fenris slowed his pace, feeling the usual low twist of lust in his stomach coupled with his deep dislike of magic. Resigning himself to an awkward evening he made his way to the bar. Ordering a whole bottle of Orleasian red from Corff. Maybe getting drunk would help with his tangled emotions?
Anders was sat at the end of the table directly facing the door, his attention immediately drawn when the elf entered. Seeing him stood at the bar, lithe, graceful body coupled with the tremendous strength, Anders realised that his desire for the elf was just as strong as ever, it didn't seem to matter what he did. Sleeping with others- much to the distaste of Justice- or simply just trying to keep his distance, nothing seemed to work.
Hawke and Varric were deep in conversation, their heads bent low in discussion. Merrill sat reading through one of the giant magic tomes she collected, while Isabela was hanging all over Sebastian like lichen, no doubt looking at his cards while she agreed with his Maker driven sermon. Nobody was paying any attention to Anders, or so he thought as he watched Fenris walk over to the table. Varric's eyes flickered over the pair of them, registering the situation.
Determined to have a good night, Fenris took his seat, trying to ignore the conflicting emotions running through his mind. Taking a large swallow of the quite good wine, he considered... Yes, he hated what magic had done to his life, but he couldn't deny the attraction he had to Anders. Should he try and push past that, try and accept the mage for the man he was underneath? He felt an instant burst of anger at himself for what he considered a weakness.
"So are we all here now?" asked Hawke, "can we start to play?"
Anders sat, hands on the rough wooden table loosely holding his cards; he knew his hand to be worthless, so allowed his attention to wander to the tattooed elf opposite him, running his eyes over Fenris's arms as he watched the lyrium tattoo move over the flexing muscle beneath.
He wondered if the lyrium burn would feel the same as the skin around it, or like a fine strip of lead under. Every time he healed Fenris he hoped for the chance to 'accidently' touch the glowing lines that so intrigued him. Fenris, however, seemed more reluctant to be touched than normal when it came to Anders and hissed if the mage came too close to his bare skin around the torn clothing, often insisting on holding the edges together while Anders hands hovered above pouring more magical energy into him than usual. If he could touch then, run a finger over a healing wound to smooth away any trace of scar, he could leave the skin perfect... He did his best however, putting all he could into it to make up for the forced distance.
Fenris glanced up, green eyes peering through the spiky white fringe that hid his longing gaze from the despised yet desired mage opposite; was he even now, he wondered, lying to himself? Fenris couldn't deny the truth, that he lay awake at nights, thinking of Anders, and nothing else, becoming so aroused it was painful, but refusing to touch himself until, eventually, worn down he gave in. Allowing himself the brief luxury of forgetting what Anders was, needing barely one touch to bring his seed bursting forth, the whisper 'Anders' on his lips in that moment of blissful denial.
Anders eyes were raking him again, the lust and curiosity blatant on his face. Fenris grinned inwardly; it was good to see the mage suffer, not quite grasping in his glee that the very same emotions had been mirrored on his own face during the evening.
The card game was drawing to a close. Hawke offered to walk Merrill home, not wanting her to walk the dangerous streets alone at night. For once she still had most of her money left, most likely because Isabela's attentions had been focused elsewhere.
Fenris watched with amusement as a drunkenly befuddled Sebastian was led home by a far too willing Isabela, never giving up in her quest to seduce the Prince.
Eventually only Varric, Anders and Fenris remained. It was surprising that Anders was still in; normally unlucky with cards, his choice to throw hands early to spend his time staring at Fenris had paid off. Varric, aware of Anders lust and feeling more than a little awkward, was making his excuses and grabbing a dwarven maiden he'd had his eye on all night, disappearing upstairs and leaving Fenris gazing at Anders across the table.
"Another hand?" asked Anders gesturing to the cards.
Fenris paused before he answered; if he declined and left now, nothing would change, he would still want Anders, but...could he just try to forget...for one evening, a few hours even, as if Anders didn't represent all that had tainted his life. And that instead he was just simply a man, a man who desired him and who he in turn also wanted?
Heady with this option open to him, he allowed images of repressed desires to dance before his eyes, Anders with him...soft lips against his, hands exploring beneath those robes, the imagined weight of the mage on top of him...in him. He mentally shook himself. So be it.
"No, not right now, I feel I've been lucky enough already." he indicated to the pile of silvers that had grown steadily throughout the night. " I have no urge, however, to return to the mansion and drink alone." he peered at Anders through his fringe, open curiosity on his face.
Anders breath caught a little in his chest- was this an opening? An invitation to stay? Thinking that he had little to lose by pretending it so, he ventured "Would you care for my company?"
Fenris' smile was all the answer Anders needed. Maker, he was beautiful when he smiled. Even that brief flash lit his face up changing it from the stark, brooding beauty he normally saw to a creature of light, the man capable of happiness underneath.
'Do I move, thought Anders awkwardly, 'shall I go and sit nearer to him?' The table felt too large now they were the only companions left.
Fenris glanced around, spotting the alcove seat on the back wall free, he gestured towards it. "Do you mind if we sit there, it's opposite the fire and I would enjoy the warmth".
Nodding in agreement and eyeing the rather cosy seat Anders gathered up the bottle of wine and grabbed two fresh glasses from the bar, smiling to Norah as he passed and asking her to bring them another bottle.
They settled back into the wall seat, Fenris stretching his long legs out towards the fire, his jerkin pulling up just a little as he did showing a hint of tanned skin with a wider line of lyrium swirling through, "Mmmh that's better" he said snuggling deeper into the soft fur covered cushions, "I'm always so cold here, that's one thing I can definitely remember, more sun!" he leant forward pouring them both wine.
Anders took the proffered wine and they sat, just savouring the drink and the heat.
Fenris felt strangely content in the mages company, knowing he and Anders could tackle any problem that came to them. But also the pleasure of being in the company of a man who he knew not only desired him but who also seemed to care about and show a interest in him, no matter how often he pushed him away. He resigned himself to the fact that he did have feelings for the mage. There was no point trying to deny it; it wasn't possible to feel like this about someone you truly hated.
Gesturing towards Fenris' bare feet with his cup Anders queried, "Do your feet not get cold, I have never seen you wear anything but your leggings, not matter the weather or the place".
Fenris smiled, "Yes, my feet get cold, and yes, I do feel the stones we walk on... But it is all I know, apart from simple slave garb to sleep in, this is the only clothing I ever had or indeed recall"
"Doesn't it become annoying? Don't you ever cut your foot or stub your toe? Does that not make you think, hmmm boots that's an idea, you do know about boots right? We could find you some nice winged ones to match." Anders grinned at him, his eyes crinkling with mirth.
Fenris slowly turned from the fires heat, drawing his leg up he lay it along the cushion of the bench, his foot coming to rest lightly on Anders leg. "Does my foot look cut or my toes 'stubbed'?" he asked with a wicked grin, watching Anders surprise as he took in the sight before him.
Anders stunned that the elf had so unreservedly touched him; "No you win! Your feet look fine, completely unblemished if truth be told." and they were, apart from whorls of lyrium all along the sole and the strip of leather from his leggings, a little dusty maybe but very soft and plump looking. "But if you ever travel to Ferelden, take a pair of boots, there's a lot of dogs there and this view wouldn't be quite so pleasant then".
Grinning at the mages obvious shock Fenris slid his foot slowly down Anders thigh and raising up the other leg, turned to sit facing him with his knees up, sliding both feet under Anders leg, hearing the gasp that came from the mage. "You don't mind do you? Your leg is very warm after all", he gave a little wiggle of his toes, causing Anders to choke on his drink. 'Maybe this would work' he thought, while enjoying the closeness and comfort of touching the other.
Gulping wine down his suddenly dry throat, trying not to cough, Anders could still feel where the light weight of him had been and the tingling sensation from his foot slowly running down his thigh. Now he was warming his feet under him. Maker's breath Fenris was flirting with him! What had brought on this change in attitude? He'd noticed many times that Fenris would steal a longing glance at him, he knew the elf had some feelings for him, even if they were only sexual , but this...
Seeing Fenris sitting almost demurely, legs pulled up, arms loosely clasped around them and appearing so innocent; he decided to make a move of his own...
Reaching out with one finger he lightly touched the leather covering one drawn up knee "I've often wondered" he mused, still touching the elf, "just what type of animal this is?" he could feel Fenris tense slightly at the touch, hands clenching beneath his, seeing as he'd got this far unscathed he continued, "it's almost see through in places". Moving his finger slowly down the leg following the faint trail of lyrium, he looked up to meet the wary gaze, keeping his eyes locked onto the elf's he carried on down till he came to rest against Fenris' hand. Anders felt a pulse jump into him as it met the other, and Fenris's large eyes widened as he felt the same jolt too.
Holding still, allowing the contact, Fenris' voice was quiet as he replied "It's young War Elephant, a rarity, not even the Magister's will kill one just for the skin, but if one happens to die young..." he shrugged, "Its strong, durable, and also it allowed my markings to be shown off".
Eyes locked onto each other, and although barely touching, neither seemed inclined to move. Anders slowly slid his finger across the back of the elf's hand, watching it creep closer to the fine line of lyrium. As it grazed over the top he heard Fenris' sharp intake of breath and looked up to see his eyes fixed upon the mages hand.
"I'm sorry that their creation caused you so much pain" he said looking directly into the elf's eyes "but they are truly beautiful, as are you" Feeling bolder Anders traced the line, feeling a pulse of electricity as the natural magic of the mage caused the lyrium to react, it was like a tingling sensation, not unpleasant.
Fenris looked at the finger slowly moving along the line of lyrium; one part of him wanted to snatch his hand away, to pull it back and rub it furiously to remove the feeling, to curse the mage for touching him, but the other more overwhelming side wanted to reach out with his own and touch the mage in return, to feel the soft skin, curl his fingers around the hand of another, draw him close, pulling him forwards till lips met... sweat started to bead on his upper lip as he fought the internal struggle.
Anders was almost holding his breath, he could see the confusion, the longing, and defence that always rose when he was close to touching Fenris. He inched his fingers slowly over the edge of his hand, holding it lightly he gave it brief squeeze, a touch that said, I'm not rushing you, I know this is hard.
He met the others eyes for a pause before Fenris pulled back. Setting his feet back down on the floor, he poured them both wine. Now it was Fenris gulping his wine down, his colour slightly raised, a faint pink tint to his face, looking adorable next to his white hair.
Another hour passed, as did more bottles of wine, Norah keeping them well supplied. The Hanged Man was becoming more crowded, late night drinkers and off duty guardsmen stumbled in taking a space anywhere they could, drinks ordered and spilled. The smoky hazy atmosphere surrounding them both in their own little world.
Anders was finding it harder and harder to resist touching the elf. The closeness, the wine, had all built up to a nearly overwhelming urge, to pull Fenris into his arms and cover his lips with his own. Not wanting to destroy any ground they had gained he resisted, but Maker, it was hard. The light from the fire reflected on the tan skin, highlighting the tattoos, the white hair almost gleaming, those large green sparkling eyes staring back at him. They were like the bottomless depths of the sea he thought slightly drunkenly.
Fenris sat curled up close to Anders on the cushioned bench, his earlier shyness worn down by the numerous bottles of wine they'd shared. He leaned into the mage, enjoying the feel of Anders body next to his, the warmth, intimacy, the genuine affection the mage had for him. It was something he never thought he'd know. Sinking into the comfort, cup clutched loosely in his hand, he looked out across the room as the tavern door opened and more drinkers spilled into the busy bar. Sitting suddenly bolt upright, the cup falling to the floor, he reached behind him for his sword; "Prepare yourself" he hissed "Templar's!"