Those pretty blue eyes had widened when they saw the elf in the Chantry's main hall. The guilt had been written across his face for all to see. Two words had paled him, made him look desperately around for any exits before he'd been propelled into the confessionals. The Chantry Sister's had not been around or they would have heard the muffled noises of a struggle, then moans and a chant of a name that was not the Maker's.
'Is it the Maker that makes you writhe like that, Prince?'
'N-no!'
'Is it the Maker making you beg for cock?'
'More... Please!'
'Say it.'
'Fuck me, Fenris! Please, Fenris, I need your cock!'
Sebastian was pinned to the wall, face streaked with tears as they violated the holy ground of the Chantry. The Vow of Chastity that had been firmly thrown aside a few nights ago was thuroughly crushed into fine dust.
The Brother had been left in the confessional, cumstained and pants around his ankles. He had been gentler with him, as Sebastian had been far kinder to him that night than
"Anders."
His shadow on the Clinic's doorstep recieved no guilty looks, only a smug and satisfied smirk. The mage had no remorse for his actions and even crowed a little about his slutty actions.
He had not been gentle with him.
A fistful of long dirty blonde hair and he'd been shoved over one of his examination tables. Robes had been ripped apart, used to bind together hands and gag Anders. The round, pale ass quickly turned red, lanced with shallow lacerations from the sharp edges of his gauntlets. He hadn't stopped until the abomination was crying, screaming around the gag. When the muffled begging for mercy came three metal-encased fingers were shoved into him with only a thin sheen of oil.
The table creaked as he fucked the mage. One leg broke but it didn't stop him. When he came, it was on his face.
Anders was left there, laying over the broken table, ass in the air and bound, cumstained. Whomever found him like that would count their lucky stars that day.
"Hawke."
The mastermind behind the whole thing. The one who never understood what he wanted - or so Fenris had believed - was the last one he'd confronted.
He had wanted it, yes, yet it had not been Sebastian or Anders touch he wanted controling him. Hawke was the one he had trusted, was the one he wanted to have etched into his skin, the claim of ownership on a primal level. Instead he had the touch of three men. One he loathed with all his being, one he had respected, and one he could say he loved.
His mind had been made up days ago. They claimed him, they had eased the compulsion of a blood mage's thrall, but he would claim all three in return. He would not allow this to be a one sided act. A thrilling thought that made his blood as hot as it was when they'd used him. The slave who had nothing, had been a thing, would turn the tide on them.
Fenris smirked at his lover. The mage was teetering on the edge of consciousness. Hawke had been utterly claimed. His lips were swollen and glazed with cum, body decorated with blue and purple, scratches from metal and nails. Garrett's sex laid limp against his hip and he was certian after the abuse he'd given it, it would be unable to rise any time soon.
"You're all mine."