Title: 100 Themes Challenge #46 – Family (Power)
Pairing: Carver/M!Hawke
Rating: M
Word Count: 1,188
Summary: Carver used to hate his brother. Now… Their relationship is… tolerable.
Note: There is slash incest in the following fic, herpaderp. You guys might hate me or whatever for this, but it's what I chose to write about and if you don't like it there is a handy dandy little back button up top. :'D Aka I don't care I'll keep writing what I want. And also they are so OOC I don't know what to do with myself BUT OH WELL. Written because it was the idea given to me by a friend D;
Carver used to despise his brother.
Since they were children, Garret created a shadow that he couldn't escape from. He was always more handsome, always so smooth, saying all the right things, never doing anything wrong… He was a natural people-person, swooned after among the village girls and the leader of the boys.
Garret was everything that Carver could never be. No matter how hard he tried, the younger Hawke knew that, deep down, no one would look at him and want to bow their heads in adoration and respect, no one would name him champion of anything, no one would plead for him to come to the rescue.
Maybe that was why he loved hearing Garret beg him for more so fucking much.
What would Kirkwall say if they knew that their beloved Champion was brought to his knees by none other than the overshadowed Carver?
He could remember the first time that it had happened.
"Why are you letting him stay?" he had asked Garret after confronting him in their home in Lowtown. Leandra and Gamlen were out with old family friends, attempting to gain some reputation for the family name.
"We need a healer, Carver. He's the best we can get," Garret had replied. He laughed.
"Right. Meaning you just want a quick fuck."
The older Hawke had stiffened, and whipped around to glare at him.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Carver had laughed again.
"Bullshit, Garret. You're not fooling anybody, with your trips to Darktown to 'help the needy.' I wouldn't be surprised if—"
"Shut up, Carver." The mage had growled, feeling heat rise in his face.
"Why? It's true! He's going to be the end of us all with his stupid manifesto and Justice, and it'll all be because you needed someone to screw." Garret threw a punch at him then, which Carver promptly caught, and pushed him back against the wall. "What? You mad because I'm right? I bet he doesn't even do the job right. Who takes it, huh? I'd bet him, but I think that's giving you too much credit."
The rage on Garret's face had made him feel like he was finally on top. Finally winning. For once in his life, he was beating his brother and no one could take that from him.
"No come back? So you do get fucked like a cheap broad. Why don't you just go to the Rose? It'd be—"
"If you're so great, Carver, prove you can do any fucking better! You've done nothing but be a whiny little shit since the day you were born. Shut the fuck up and do something about it for once in your damned life!"
Carver shouldn't have taken the challenge literally. He should have backed down right then, and left to go take out his anger on something else, anything else.
But he didn't.
He lunged forward, crushing his lips against Garret's, grinding their hips together. The desperate sound his elder brother made, deep in the back of his throat, only pushed him forward. Anger and borderline hate drove him forward, to the cot and to an ultimate end.
Days after the event, they did not speak. Garret left for the Deep Roads, and he joined the Templars. He still had that feeling inside… The one that whispered to him at night, telling him he had finally gotten the upper hand. So when the Hawke returned to Kirkwall, arms full of riches and glory enough to gain an estate and place amongst the court as a noble, Carver made it an objective to reassert himself. To 'do something about it,' as Garret had told him.
It grew to be expected. Whenever he had time away from the Order and he caught the mage alone, he proved just how much more he was than him. It didn't matter that it was wrong on so many levels, or that if anybody had found out, it would have ruined them both. All that mattered was that finally he was out of that Maker forsaken shadow.
This night was no different from any of the rest. Leandra was out with her old friends, and Bodahn and Sandal were out running special errands. When he walked through the large doors of the estate, up the stairs, and to his brother's bedroom, he was not surprised to find Garret still up at his writing desk, scrawling out a letter to someone he didn't care for.
"Carver." The voice was dripping with a seething anger, but all he could so was smirk in reply; sure, he said his name like that now… "Why are you here?"
"To give you the fucking your pretty little magelet can't?" he shot back, watching as Garret clenched his jaw. A moment passed before he stood, placing his quill next to the paper carefully. "I wonder if he knows he can't screw you like I can." He grinned darkly.
"Shut the fuck up," he growled, his hands curling into fists.
"Why? What're you going to do?" Carver taunted, stepping forward until he stood face to face with the mage. "Something tells me you won't tell me no. It might have something to do with the way you screamed like a bitch in heat, last time." Garret glared into the blue eyes in front of him for a second, but cast his gaze to the side. He couldn't even deny it! Ha. Maker knew how much his body just wanted it. "The great Hawke himself, speechless. What I wouldn't—"
He was silenced by Garret's mouth, covering his own as hands reached up to grab at his hair. Carver smirked against the kiss, pushing him back until the backs of his legs hit the edge of the desk. He used one hand to scatter the things on top, clearing the space, and the other to grab the mage's crotch.
"Already hard for me, huh? I haven't even been here five minutes, brother," Carver murmured against his skin, moving his mouth down to bite at the junction of his shoulder and neck. Garret moaned at the pain and the rubbing of his erection through his trousers, sending Carver on a high of power-filled dominance. Maker, it felt so good in all the completely wrong ways. "Show a bit of self-control," he whispered, emphasizing the last two words with a squeeze of the older man's cock.
"Just do it," Garret panted, amber eyes closed as he shuddered under his brother's rough, angry touch. The warrior moved his hands to his hips, flipping him so he lay bent over the desk. Hawke grunted, looking over his shoulder as Carver fumbled for the jar of lubricant he already knew to be in the desk's left drawer.
It was the look in the golden eyes, that utter desperation and need for him that made this so worth it. The fact that with every thrust the strong, all-powerful man of Kirkwall moaned his name. Every bruising touch he gave, every mark he left on his skin…
Carver used to despise his brother.
Now he loved every second they spent together.