Fenris awoke to the smell of meat cooking, dripping fat causing the fire to spit and hiss. He was alone in the bedroll, still naked. Anders crouched nearby, barefoot in his trousers, turning the spit on a pair of small birds. Makeshift branches shoved into the hard earth held the spit in place over the fire.
Fenris sat up, looking through the wayward hair in front of his eyes. "What's that smell?" A rich, warm scent wafted out from the fire, accompanied by hints of olive oil and fresh herbs.
"You awake?" Anders looked over bemused at Fenris' ruffled hair and half opened eyes. The mage took another spare stick and poked at the roasting birds. Satisfied at their progress, he removed the spit.
"Apparently, yes." Fenris reached out a hand, beckoning towards the meat as he kicked the covers aside casually. Anders slid one of the birds onto his poking stick and handed it over to Fenris.
"Just making sure," he clarified with his mouth half full. "I wouldn't want to miss your expression. Ooh, hot, careful." Juices dripped down the blonde's chin. He wiped them off with a freckled forearm.
Fenris raised one dark eyebrow, turning the stick to keep grease from dripping from the meat. Anders continued. "You told me to wake you however I wanted. I chose a uniquely Pheasant way to do it."
Fenris scowled at the pun, wrinkling his nose. "Ugh." His expression went from sour to satisfied, his tongue lapping out to stop the trail of grease before it reached his chin.
"Now you're awake," Anders confirmed with a chuckle. "Honestly, I'm surprised it didn't wake you before. I chased the poor things halfway across the lake to keep them from clucking in your ear."
Fenris spared Anders a bemused glance. "Why not use a spell to paralyze them?" Fenris reached toward the fire and grabbed the canteen set aside there, taking a swig before offering it to Anders.
"And risk the magic waking you up? No, thank you," Anders admonished. "Besides. Lightning spell is a favorite old trick of mind. Guaranteed to wake the cranky elf if cast too close, but it seals the juices in."
The two ate in silence for several minutes. Anders joined Fenris on the unused end of the bedroll. As Fenris let out a satisfied hum, he reached to Anders' mouth to wipe off more trailing grease. Anders looked back with undisguised lust, taking Fenris' finger into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue.
Anders continued until Fenris' nostrils flared and he threw the last bones from his makeshift breakfast into the fire. Anders released the lyrium lined finger with a pop and spoke with an almost apologetic tone. "Look, I understand you may not want to talk about last night. Or Danarius in general. But…"
Indeed, Fenris looked instantly perturbed. "Spit it out." Anders looked down in a show of submission, but he did not stop. Instead, he put a reassuring hand on Fenris' knee before continuing.
"You haven't done that with anyone, have you? Since… Danarius." The last word was a whispered question, but both knew it to be more a statement. Fenris' expression was all the confirmation needed.
"I suspect there are more things like that," Anders added nervously. "Things that haunt you." Anders traced a slow finger along Fenris' arm to soften his words, still averting his eyes. "It's only natural. Even a fiend who cares only for himself can stumble across something good accidentally, now and then, right?"
Trying not to look flustered, Fenris smoothed his hair into place. "And why would I tell you?"
"Because otherwise you'll never be completely free," Anders sighed. He looked up with rich honey eyes, showing genuine concern and affection. "You're letting him take those things away from you. Things you would otherwise enjoy. He… tainted them. Made them ugly. But there's nothing ugly about you. I've seen you sleeping. I know scary dreams from sexy dreams. When it's both, it makes a man wonder."
Fenris kicked his feet at the edge of the bedroll to straighten it, making a move to get up. "You do not want to hear it." Anders put both hands gently on Fenris' shoulders, urging him to stay a little longer.
"You're wrong," Anders countered. He ran his long fingers down the elf's torso, his mouth following. "I want to help you take back anything and everything from him that you can." He wanted to say, 'Make it ours.' He considered the possible implications of the words and instead said, "Make them… yours." He circled a tongue around Fenris' nipple, fingers teasing the other nub. Fenris stopped trying to get up.
Anders continued tracing Fenris' body with his fingers, one hand down each thigh as his head lowered. "Tell me," he breathed. As Anders took a single slow lick up the elf's cock, dark green eyes lost their resolve. Fenris' words stumbled out. "He would pound me until I bruised and tore," His tone of voice warned of worse to come. He looked at Anders with worried eyes, but Anders gave a reassuring smile.
"Well, no tearing," Anders decided. "It's not my style, and I'd rather not risk infection." Fenris nodded. "But bruising?" Anders shrugged. "I've been told I'm stronger than I look." The mage swirled his tongue around the head of the elf's cock, licking the front a few times to a hum of approval. Anders moaned, back arching. He turned his head aside, blushing, at his open arousal at Fenris' willingness to share. Anders wanted to be supportive, not creepy. He took a breath and decided to cover with equanimity.
"As you get close," Anders elaborated, "I'll put my casting hand right here." The mage reached a hand under Fenris' to the small of his back. His other hand began stroking Fenris to cover the span of time it was taking to speak his response. "And when you come, I'll heal like my life depends on it. Because maybe it will, at least the first time. Lucky for you, I'm not afraid to live dangerously. You'll come out in the same shape you started in, or even better. The next time you have lower back pain, let's talk."
It sounded so matter-of-fact and unconcerned that Fenris looked a little impressed. Anders could feel Fenris' cock stiffening further, though whether from his honest proposal or his nimble stroking was unclear. The blonde eagerly took the elf's cock into his mouth, forcing it greedily to the back of his throat and swallowing. The elf groaned, feeling encouraged, his emotional defenses falling aside.
"He would choke me until I could no longer breathe," Fenris admitted. "I fainted on more than one occasion." Anders paused only a moment, concealing a slight worry, before he began bobbing his head, providing reward for another secret. Fenris ground his hips slowly up into Anders' mouth. It was like watching an onion peel itself, years of shame and self-recrimination being replaced by simple abandon.
"Mmm," Anders sounded interested. He gingerly removed his mouth, his hand instantly taking its place on the now slick cock, wet sounds accompanying his honey sweet voice. "Lucky for you, I'm somewhat of a medical expert on anatomy. I know when to stop. You'll never faint with me. At least, not from that." Anders took Fenris into his lips and swallowed it down ever so slowly, grinning all the while as it passed his gag reflex. He released the cock again with a pop. "If you're overcome by my charm and wit, I refuse to be held accountable." He smirked, adding liberal tongue to the next slow descent.
Fenris twined his fingers into Anders' hair, emboldened by the accommodating reactions so far. He fucked openly into Anders' mouth, the depth and rhythm of his thrusts measured to be pleasurable for both of them. He began groaning quietly with his thrusts. Anders reached up to tenderly fondle his balls.
Fenris took a deep breath. "When I reached the edge, he often made me beg him to stop." Anders lifted his head to consider this one. "I see where you got your control," the blonde noted. "Mmm," Fenris agreed. Anders returned to his ministrations, placing his palms gently on each thigh as the gears in his head turned. He finally asked the question that was burning in his mind. "And did you? Beg?"
Fenris pushed Anders' head back down, annoyed at the interruption. But after another moment, he answered the question. "At first, no. Eventually, yes." Fenris gave one hard thrust up despite himself. Anders felt the pressure in his throat as Fenris took out his residual frustration on Anders' mouth.
Anders again pushed his mouth off, despite Fenris' hand on his head. "And did he stop?" Fenris growled this time. Anders smiled, looking up with such patient adoration that his interruptions were forgiven. Anders leveraged his hands to press Fenris' legs open. The thighs seemed reluctant to part. Anders slid two fingers along Fenris' cock and applied his mouth over the cock and fingers together.
"It depended on his mood," Fenris huffed. He seemed to want to distract himself at this moment, the words coming out with pained resistance. "He always indulged himself but preferred me to be… controlled. Sometimes he stopped. If he did not stop and I could not control myself, I was punished."
Anders opened his eyes wide, curious what Fenris being punished might look like. Anders slid the fingers out of his mouth, circling one gently around Fenris' exposed entrance. He lifted his flushed lips just barely long enough for a quick question. "Can I ask how?"
Fenris looked down fondly, "If you overstep your bounds any further, I will show you." Even as he said this, Fenris opened his legs in invitation. Anders gaped, his mind somersaulting from the mental jujitsu that turned Fenris' confessions into a weapon he now felt helpless to resist. Anders sighed, his body shuddering in pleasure. Unheeding the threat of punishment, he slipped his finger inside Fenris. The elf's body reacted instantly, launching into a liquid abandon that arched from his shoulders to his toes. Fenris' mouth opened, his breathing hard, as Anders plunged his mouth down in time with his fingers.
Anders added a second finger, and Fenris groaned deeply. Anders remembered well the elf's position over his cock the previous evening and was able to match the angle within a few more strokes. The elf seemed lost, then, his body rolling in sinuous waves without thought. While Anders' mouth and fingers sped to meet the writhing rhythm, his free hand cupped and rolled the elf's balls as they drew inward.
Fenris' moans grew louder until they stuttered along with the motions along his body. Anders' eyes rolled in the back of his head, the deep reverberations of Fenris' voice reaching into his soul somehow. Usually the elf was tightly controlled or viciously aggressive, never so passively responsive to pleasure. Acting on instinct, Anders buried the cock in his mouth until his lips nestled in the dark shiny hair below. Anders swallowed, over and over, thirsty and horny and moaning as loudly as his full mouth allowed. When Fenris came, Anders moaned right alongside the deeper groans, though he remained untouched himself. After swallowing all the pleasure he could, Anders sat back up, cock aching.
Anders was left wondering whether Fenris was as touched by all this as he was. He decided it was not the time to ask. He deflected to another question instead. "Now wasn't that a nice way to wake up?"
Fenris took a moment to collect himself before deeming Anders worthy of an answer. "Yes," he indulged. He gave a last satisfied moan, arching his hips to guide Anders' fingers out.
Anders pursed his lips. "Do you still intend to inflict some horrific punishment on me from your past?"
Fenris smiled self-indulgently. "Oh, yes," he confirmed. "You chose it of your own free will." Fenris closed his eyes in a mixture of afterglow and fantasy about whatever this punishment entailed.
Anders failed to respond. After a moment, Fenris opened his eyes. His brows furrowed in concern. Anders suddenly going quiet usually meant he was either overcome with lust or startled into shock. This was neither. Anders was withdrawing into himself, eyes at the ground as he lost himself in thought.
Fenris was not above reevaluating. "Don't you want your own release?" He lifted a foot to run the arch along Anders' calf and partway up his thigh. When this got no response, he tilted Anders' face up.
Anders' expression was concerned, hard. Then just as suddenly the levity returned. "No, I think I'll wait."
Fenris paused, searching. Then he let out a genuine laugh. A glimmer of pride showed in Fenris' eyes. This marked the first time Anders had ever chosen self-control over immediate sexual gratification.
"Mind you," Anders admitted, "I expect I'll be crawling up the walls of our room in Hunter's Reach."
Fenris laugh died down. He mused in good nature. "Who said we're getting a room?"
"I did. Just now." Anders looked haughty, pulling himself up, his shoulders squared. "You don't get to punish me for giving you everything you want. If I'm to be punished, dear Leto, I plan to earn it."
While Anders cast a paralysis glyph on Fenris with one hand, he grabbed their canteen with the other. Fenris' eyes opened wide as he watched Anders cast a low grade cold spell that chilled the nearby air.
"After all," Anders mused, "I could have woken you up a completely different way." He took his time pouring the almost frozen water in the canteen over Fenris' face as the elf endured it in powerless silence. "You want a minor saint? Well, you ungrateful sodding elf, catch me if you can!"
Anders mounted his horse in a hurry, tucking the tunic waiting on his saddle into the band of his trousers for safekeeping while he made his getaway. Before setting forward, Anders thought to cast a paralysis spell on Fenris' horse for good measure. By the time Fenris was able to move again, Anders was already too far gone for easy catching. Fenris' horse gave a startled whinny, to their mutual dismay.
Fenris took his time, stamping out the fire and putting away the bedroll before setting off. It was only as he mounted his horse, now shuffling in confusion, that he felt the pain from his brands return. Anders had sped past the limit of their magical bond, leaving Fenris' skin to throb persistently. Fenris growled. He had all but forgotten what constant pain felt like, what it did to his mood, how angry it left him.
Fenris chased after Anders all day, smiling grimly to himself at the reminder of earlier days in their shared journey. He sometimes saw the mage in the distance. He even caught up partway when Anders stopped to let his horse drink and rest, no doubt eating rations as well, though it was impossible to tell from the speck in the distance. Then Fenris was forced to stop himself when his horse got winded.
Fenris caught up with a half dozen tumbleweeds that day. Anders remained an elusive target.
That evening, Anders demonstrated his uncanny ability to simultaneously challenge, tease, and infuriate Fenris. Just before dusk, the warrior arrived at the tavern on the outskirts of town where he had anticipated getting a room for the night. Instead of finding Anders at the Owl's Nest, he was handed a written note that instructed him to pay the bar tab and head to the florist's shop across the street.
The proprietor of Flowers of Thedas glanced nervously at the large sword on the elf's back. She kindly informed Fenris that, per Anders' instructions, she was not supposed to provide directions until after the completed purchase of a dozen red roses. Fenris begrudgingly complied, after which he was directed to a restaurant further in town. At the Cazador Grill, he was handed a large take-out order containing a variety of rare meats (Most unusual, monsieur. For future reference, we require a reservation!) which he of course also had to pay for. In the bag was a note which simply spelled two words in capital letters. To his embarrassment, the elf was forced to ask the maître d' for directions to Yoohoo Sailor.
This last side trip turned out unsurprisingly to be store selling intimate apparel and accessories. A bag was waiting with a smooth wooden plug, a jar of scented oil, and a pair of fur lined leather cuffs. As Fenris paid the bill, he noted with anticipation that he was near enough to Anders that the pain from his brands faded. Nestled in the bottom of the bag was a crisp white parchment with neatly penned instructions to an upscale inn nearby. Fenris' arms were full, his coin purse now significantly lighter.
With a cough, the inn's receptionist patiently explained that it was company policy to require guests to sign themselves in and tender payment for the room in advance. And also, if sir did not mind, could he add the name of his, ahem, guest to the register? Said guest had already been let into the room and had assured the receptionist at the Theradon that the suite would be paid for forthwith. The room cost a gold sovereign. Plus a small advance fee to cover any incidental damage to the room's furnishings.
Anders would indeed have been crawling up the walls if he had not already handcuffed one of his own wrists to a bedpost of the canopied bed. He stroked himself languidly with his free hand while waiting, sprawling across white silk sheets covered with rose petals. By the time the night was over, Anders would become intimately familiar with every single object Fenris had purchased, both ends of the canopied bed, the heated tub, the floor, and every wall in the room, of which there were exactly seven.
Fenris never did punish Anders per se. The complete ruination of their suite sufficed to make his point.