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Once the last patient finally left the clinic, Anders sunk down onto a chair and whined. Regardless of his inability to get it up in such a place, the mental anguish of the ordeal he had been enduring was painful. He wished nothing more than to just go home, or even just go somewhere that smelt better, and relieve himself. The mage was sure he could simply fake the most spectacular orgasm he would ever have. Just a bit more screaming and writhing should do the trick. Unfortunately, there wasn't quite enough time to make it home before he needed to make it to the Hanged Man to meet the others. And also, he couldn't think of anywhere in Darktown that would be acceptable for the job. It was hard enough being an apostate, ex-Warden, and abomination without being charged with public indecency.
To kill a bit of time, he decided to pull out some parchment and start thinking of what to name his new cat. In one column he put boy names, and girl names in the other. He categorized them by fur color and personality. He even made a separate space for names better suited for non-tabbies, just in case. As he was beginning to circle his top picks, he heard light footsteps coming towards him. He turned around to see.
"What can I do for you, Merrill? Need me to heal some cuts on your wrists?"
The elven mage looked down at her covered wrists and back up at the blonde in confusion. "What? No, my wrists are fine."
Anders just shook his head and went back to his work. There was really no question about the way this mage felt about the other; blood magic was something that he couldn't stand. But most of his hatred stemmed from the knowledge that Hawke had slept with her. I bet he let her orgasm…
"What are you working on?" the elf inquired, stepping close enough to see the page.
Anders sighed and pushed the page towards her. "Just something to keep my mind off of things. They're names for a cat I'll be getting soon."
Merrill squealed with delight as she took the page into her hands, carefully looking over each name. "Oh, how exciting! Can I add a few names to the list?" She hadn't even finished her question before she'd grabbed a quill and began writing. Once finished, she handed the parchment back to Anders.
"Under boys, you've added 'Varric, Fenris, and Sebastian.' And under girls you've added 'Isabela, Aveline, Merrill, and Sprinkles.'" Annoyed, he set down the list on the table and looked up at the bright-eyed elf, nodding and certainly pleased with herself. "Yeah, I'm not sure those are going to make it to the top of the list."
"Well they are certainly better choices than Ser Pounce-a-lot. You've still never managed to explain to me how exactly he was knighted."
Anders frowned. "Please do not speak ill of my cat. He was like a son to me. And he was knighted…by me. After fighting heroically…somewhere. But enough about him. What are you doing here?"
"I was in the neighborhood, and I thought I might walk with you to the Hanged Man tonight."
The blonde mage didn't even want to know what she could possibly be 'in the neighborhood' for. Something seedy and dealing with blood magic, no doubt. But despite how much he disapproved of her actions, both past and present, he couldn't help but admit that she was a nice girl. A nice girl who was keeping his mind off of his own crotch.
With a forced smile, stood up. "Alright, we can walk together." Merrill just smiled and followed him around as he closed up the clinic for the evening. Doors locked and lantern blown out, they started on their way to Lowtown.
"Why are you in such a bad mood, Anders? You have been so happy as of late, but not now."
Dear, Maker. Just tell her to shut up so we can walk in peace. He made some sort of attempt to explain to her why he was upset, but in a very abstract way. If anyone was going to question him about it, he was glad it was Merrill just for the fact that she could be so absolutely clueless about things of this nature. And of course, she had no idea what he was talking about, and they walked the remainder of the way in silence.
After what seemed like an eternity of awkwardness, the finally got to their destination, and Anders held open the door for the other mage to enter the tavern. The pair sifted through the crowd and walked upstairs to Varric's room. In the center of the room sat a large table, big enough for their entire crew. However, only three of the chairs were occupied. Merrill skipped over to take a seat between Isabela and Fenris. Anders hurried over to sit next to the right of a smiling Hawke.
"Well this is something that doesn't happen often," Hawke offered through the silence after taking a swig from his pint. "A room filled only with people I've slept wi– OW!" Three kick from under the table and a punch to the arm from Anders cut him off. He just laughed as he reached down to rub one of his shins. "Fine, fine, I lied," he said, pointing over to the chair Varric normally sits in. "I haven't been with Bianca, but that's because Varric would kill me."
"I think it's Bianca that might actually end you if put in that position," Isabela suggested. "Every one I can think of could jus-"
"Ok enough of that," Anders interrupted. "Where is everyone else?"
"Varric should be back any second. Sebastian said he would come soon, and Aveline is probably busy manhandling Donnic," Hawke informed him. He dropped one hand down from off of the table and placed it on Anders' thigh. He smiled feeling the muscles tense under his touch.
"What's this about manhandling?" Varric questioned as he entered the room. He picked Bianca up off of his chair and sat down. "I could use some new material for my 'Hard in Hightown' sequel."
"We were just saying that, right about now, Aveline probably has Donnic bent over a table and is," she stopped to cover Merrill's pointy ears. "-fucking his brains out," she uncovered them. "-with a strap-on."
"Maker preserve us, Isabela!" Sebastian gasped as he entered the room.
"What's a strap-on?"
No one bothered to answer Merrill. Instead, the conversation just carried on as if she hadn't asked the question at all. Nora entered the room and gathered drink orders for the party, pints for most of the group and wine for Fenris. With a little alcohol in him, the broody elf was actually able to liven up a bit. Hawke as always, was the life of the party. Sarcastic remarks, flirtatious gestures, and terrible jokes kept most of the group entertained. But it was his hand that would entertain Anders.
Painfully slow, Hawke's hand crept up the mage's thigh and finally laid to rest over his crotch. It sat there with little pressure and for so long that Anders' body didn't really react to it. He was able to listen to the jokes, occasionally say something himself, and just relax. But after the second round of drinks had come out, the pressure and movement began. Hawke slowly pushed aside the parts of the mage's robe which covered the front of his trousers and then cupped his hand against the bulge. He quickly found the outline of his lover's cock and started to rub it through the fabric as best he could.
Anders was extremely thankful in that moment that everyone seemed to be so caught up in their conversation and alcohol that they paid no attention to his face, struggling to hide the pleasure. He leaned in towards Hawke, desperately trying to make it look like he was just enjoying a conversation rather than what was actually happening.
"Andraste's knickers, Hawke…what are you doing?" he whispered.
"Paying you back for footsie, I suppose," Hawke answered, a little too loud for comfort in the mage's mind. With that, he gave the growing erection under his grip a gentle squeeze and let go. Any relief the other man felt went away almost instantly as the warrior started to unlace his lover's trousers.
The blonde tried pulling himself away. "Fuck, you can't do this now," he hissed, still keeping his voice as quiet as he could. He bit down on his bottom lip to hold back a gasp as he felt his erection pulled out and stroked.
Hawke smiled and used his free hand to pick up his pint to gulp down the last few ounces of ale. He leaned back in towards Anders. "I can, and I will. Do not forget your place, Darling."
The mage knew his place, good and well. He enjoyed his place. But the rules that they had set and agreed upon were meant for their bedchamber, not Varric's crowded room at the Hanged Man. Even as he thought about those rules, he couldn't help but enjoy what was happening below the table. Hawke stroked his length from base to tip, ever so often giving it a tight, arousing squeeze.