PAST AND PRESENT
Anders lay gasping in a puddle of want. Flat on his back, with an eager, talented mouth sucking his shaft, licking his sack, teething his thighs. His hands buried themselves in silky, white hair.
A gentle, oiled finger slipped inside of him, questing. It found his sweet spot, and Anders arched against it, moaning. He thrust against a restraining hand, whining in need.
He felt his knees lifted, and suddenly his entrance was consumed by a hungry mouth as his shaft was stroked wickedly. He begged for release, voice desperate. Both mouth and hand increased their application, and he shattered. Pulse after pulse rocked through him as he cried out in completion.
There was shifting, sliding of skin against skin, and he was gathered in strong arms and rolled atop the elf. A hand continued to stroke him, as his erection was sustained. He was guided over Fenris' rigid shaft, and he sank, moaning as his already heightened senses were again stimulated. He could hear the elf's moans as he thrust into him, and peeled his eyes open. Fenris' head was thrown back, mouth ajar as he gasped in pleasure. His hands held Anders' hips, supporting him as he rode the elf.
Fenris sat up, his nimble fingers sliding between their bellies, and found Anders' shaft, engorged fully once more. Anders moaned, his open mouth claimed by Fenris in a deep, commanding kiss. His thrusts were harder now, angling to find his sweet spot... and, then he hit it. Anders' moans became shrill, muffled by the unrelenting kiss. The hand on him stroked him into a frenzy. Fenris' mouth left his, whispered in his ear. "That's right, mage... I'm taking you there again... let it go... come for me..."
And, he did. Bellowing, he pulsed between their bodies. He heard Fenris hiss, as he pulled from the mage's body before he spent himself.
He was dying. He had to be. He'd casually mentioned Grey Warden stamina to Fenris while they were in the bath. That was it. Just mentioned that he'd been able to reach climax twice in row, on a regular basis, until his sex-life had been cut short with his run from the Wardens. Fenris' eyes had taken on a wicked gleam. Then, the elf said he'd take him further than that.
He'd started right there, in the bath; a soapy, relentless hand taking him quickly to completion. Then, he'd moved them to their bed. Now, Anders had just peaked for his third time, and was somewhere between agony and bliss.
He collapsed against Fenris, lungs heaving, body twitching. The elf held him, rubbing his back, pressing kisses to his neck and shoulders. Fenris found his hand, and twined their fingers together.
As his breathing slowed, Fenris gently began stroking his shaft, again. Anders shuddered, the stimulation almost too much. Fenris wrapped his arms about Anders, and rolled them over.
Anders gave a small moan, exhausted. Fenris ignored the frantic want of his own body, slid down to take the mages' wilting shaft in his mouth. Anders shuddered. "Fenris?" The elf used his considerable skill, and pleasured Anders. "I can't," Anders groaned.
"Can't... or don't want to? Say the word, I'll stop."
"Can't go four times... no one can go four times..."
"How do you know? Have you ever tried?"
Anders twitched. Fenris could feel the mage harden under his ministrations.
"No... never tried... oh, Maker..." he gasped as Fenris again sent jolts of arousal spreading from his flesh.
Anders thrust into Fenris' mouth, hard again. Fenris moved gracefully back up his body, placing small, delicate, repeated kisses to his lips. Anders followed his lead, lips returning the kisses, hands finding Fenris' hair and holding him in place. When Fenris felt Anders' tongue delving into his mouth, he pulled the mage's legs up with his arms, and slid his aching, wanting, cock inside Anders' willing body.
Both groaned at the sensation. Fenris held still, panting, so aroused and on edge that he was afraid to move. Anders claimed his lips in a desperate kiss. His body was highly strung, now, pleasure coursing through him. Small sparks filled the air around them; accidental magic cast by Anders' intense excitement.
He spoke with a voice rough from three orgasms worth of shouting. "Fuck me, Fenris."
The elf's body obeyed before his mind even processed the request. His hips pulled back and snapped forward, unerringly finding the mage's sweet spot. Anders' head tossed back, his raw voice shouted in uncontrolled ardor. Fenris rode him... deep, hard, fast. Anders was in a state of intense overstimulation. More sparks of light swirled above them. Fenris felt the mage coming violently undone beneath him. His body surged, head tossed, hips thrust, arms thrown out to the sides as though to steady himself. His voice strained with each shout, face drawn into a rictus of pleasure.
Fenris was captivated. He held Anders tightly, watching the transformations of passion on his face.
Anders shuddered, body in an agony of tension. He was close, so close. Fenris held him tightly, and spoke into his ear.
"You're close... I can feel it... feel me taking you... feel me holding you... you are so beautiful, Anders... my Anders... come for me..."
Anders nearly bucked the elf off of him. Fenris sat back on his heels, and dragged Anders' hips up on his thighs, pounding into the mage's thrashing body. Fenris couldn't last much longer. He was rapidly climbing the spiral to completion.
Anders howled, sobbing with crippling pleasure. Tears ran from his eyes, his back bowed, his breath drew deep... and, he screamed in agonizing bliss. Convulsing violently, his body spent what little fluid he had left in him. Fenris lurched over him, filling the mage as he roared through his pulsing climax. He collapsed on Anders, gasping for breath, aftershocks coursing through him. Anders burst into sobs. Fenris cradled the mage in his arms, and whispered into his ear.
"Sweet, sweet Anders. So good. You came so hard for me. I came so hard for you. My Anders, my own self."
Anders' sobs subsided, his face taking on a look of bliss. Fenris watched him, and smiled softly. He carefully disengaged from the mage, and lay beside him, stroking his flushed skin. "Better?" he whispered.
Anders muttered, eyes unfocused, the bliss still evident in the small smile that touched his lips. He blinked slowly, seemingly unaware of his surroundings. "Anders?" The mage didn't respond, his head slowly lolled, lips moving as though whispering to himself.
Loud pounding on their suite door startled him. He heard the door open, and Dorian's voice called out.
"You do realize we share a common wall, yes? And, while I appreciate a good smiting as much as the next man-"
"Dorian! Get in here! Something's wrong..." Dorian stalked through the door, wearing his dressing gown and a look of intense concern. He moved right up onto the bed.
It was clear that the issue was Anders. Dorian patted his cheeks, looked into his eyes, spoke his name. Anders continued his blissful daze.
"I'm no healer, but he doesn't seem injured... Maker's breath, it smells like a bordello in here!" He took in the men's dishabille, then the brilliant lights still spinning above the bed. He looked at Fenris in surprise. "Have you two been performing sex magic?" he asked incredulously.
Fenris pulled the sheet up, remembering modesty was allowed. "No! That sounds like blood magic. He would never do that. We were testing his stamina. And, then, he... did this. Are sure he's alright? It couldn't still be from the Spiritu potion, could it?" He cupped Anders' cheek, looked worriedly into his eyes.
"His... stamina? As in, the legendary Grey Warden stamina?" Dorian laughed. "Oh, Maker, I think I know what this is. How to ask this delicately... how many... er... how frequent...?"
"Oh. Him? Four times."
"Fasta vass. Well, intentional or not, I'm pretty sure your Anders is in a state of Ecstasy Delirium. Congratulations."
"What is that? Is he alright?" Fenris stroked his hair. Anders did, indeed look delirious.
Dorian smiled, and sat cross-legged on the mattress. The man seemed positively tickled. "Oh, yes. He's riding the glorious high that many mages have sought, yet few ever find."
"I've never heard of it."
"I don't doubt it. Most mages in Tevinter know of it, even if they've never experienced it. I'm certain it's uncommon knowledge outside the Imperium."
Fenris was frustrated. "But, what is it?"
"Oh, it is sex magic. Which is not blood magic, be at ease. It's the ultimate, magical, hedonic pursuit. A heightened state of pleasure attained through ritual, mana manipulation and intense physical stimulation. Seems you and Anders triggered it, accidentally. Well, really, four times... that's a lot of energy flow." Dorian shook his head. "I don't know who I'm more impressed with, you or him."
Fenris turned back to Anders. He rubbed his hand in the soft, cropped hair. He looked so blissed, so lost, so sweet... Fenris' heart clenched.
"If anyone deserves this sort of feeling, it's my Anders. His life has been so hard." He was surprised by the way his throat closed up on the last word. "He's had so much pain."
Dorian looked at him with understanding. "I believe you're feeling some of that energy, yourself. Can make one a bit... emotional," he said gently.
Fenris nodded absently, his eyes on Anders. Both men waited quietly, hoping Anders would make his way back to reality. It was only a short time before he blinked rapidly, and took a deep breath.
"Oh, my sweet Maker..." he breathed. He looked up at Fenris, then was startled to find Dorian in their bed. "What happened?"
Dorian chuckled. "I think I'll leave that talk to Fenris. Then, get some rest. For my sake, if not your own." He exited their room.
Fenris shrugged, a small, chagrined smile on his face. "We may have taken things a bit far."
They joined Dorian for breakfast in the morning. As they fed themselves and each other, he scrutinized them. Finally, he spoke.
"Brass tacks, gentlemen. You need to get outside this house. Sex and indolence are all well and fine, but there's a great big world out there, waiting to be conquered."
They froze in their meal, staring at him. Anders turned to Fenris.
"See? This is why I need longer hair. I have nothing to hide behind in moments like this."
"What sort of 'exploring' are you talking about?"
"Anything, really. I need to drop some documents at the local Circle. Too sensitive to be left to a courier. It's but a few hours' drive. Join me. Stay in the carriage, if you like, but look at something besides your bedroom ceiling, for a while."
The carriage ride was unsettling. It was also exciting. It was an open carriage. The drive was through agricultural countryside, then into a city. Anders had his hand firmly gripped in Fenris', but both were looking around with interest.
"I've never been anywhere so warm. There's no mud. And, it smells wonderful."
Fenris was feeling a sense of... not homecoming, but something stronger than familiarity. He'd always found Tevinter, itself, beautiful. Just not the people. He glanced at the two men in the carriage with him. Perhaps, there were beautiful people here, too.
Dorian kept conversation going, pleased that both were handling it so well. Anders felt the breeze against his skin, the sun on his upheld face. He breathed in the scent of flowers and fields. Fenris had a slight smile on his face, enjoying the feel of the outdoors as much as Anders did.
He left them alone, with the driver, when he went inside the building. Anders examined the structure with interest. It was no prison, like the Circles with which he was familiar. It was a lovely design, open, people coming and going. He almost wanted to get out and explore it.
On the drive back, Fenris suddenly sat up, looking intently around him. He pointed to a turn-off, ahead. "Go that way."
"Are you sure that's a good idea, Fenris?" Dorian cautioned.
"Go that way."
Dorian signaled the driver, and they made the turn.
In relatively short time, they approached an Estate. It appeared untenanted, no staff outside, gardens overgrown.
Dorian looked tense, as did Fenris.
"What is this place?" Anders asked, finally.
"This is Danarius' Estate," replied Fenris.
Anders paled. "Why are we here?"
Fenris was staring at the building intently. "I don't know. I just need to."
Dorian spoke. "He was impossibly deep in debt by the time he died. In his dementia, he'd run his fortune into the ground with mismanagement. Which was no small feat, his fortune was considerable. After the sell-off of his other properties, and liquidation of assets, this is all that remained. He has no family, just a distant relative with no interest in a run-down, poorly maintained estate. So, it sits here, empty, rotting further."
Fenris jumped out of the carriage, and slowly approached the entryway. Anders looked at Dorian with anxiety and confusion. He had no desire to go in the house, but that was obviously where Fenris was headed. He slipped his hand into Dorian's, relieved that he returned his hold.
As Fenris opened the door, he turned and looked back at Anders. "Please."
Anders slowly stood, pulling Dorian after him, and dropped from the carriage. He followed Fenris, and crossed over the threshold into Hell's foyer.
It was completely empty. No furniture, no tapestries, no rugs. Just dust on the tiles, and swirling lazily in the light coming through the windows. Anders reached for Fenris' hand, still keeping hold of Dorian's. Fenris pulled him close, and led them up the main stairwell.
Fenris' and Anders' feet knew the path. To the top, then right, and down the corridor. Turn left, and through the only door in the hallway. The door was open. Fenris was relentless, walking straight through without hesitating.
The tiles. Their knees meeting them in graceful coordination. Their faces pressed to them in supplication to a monster. The dais, once bearing a large pedestal bed; an alter upon which their pain and blood had been offered as sacrifice, time and time again.
Suddenly, Anders lurched, and vomited several times over the tiles. Both Fenris and Dorian put hands on his shoulders, supporting him, rubbing his back. When he finished, a flask and a handkerchief were pressed into his hands. Wiping his mouth, he took a sip of very fine brandy, rinsed and spat, then took a swallow. Dorian took them back. Anders trembled, crushing both men's hands in his grip. Fenris held his head against his chest a moment, and led them out, again. Down the stairs... then down more. And, more.
"Fenris..."
"Please."
"Why?"
"I need to know we're not still there."
"Alright."
Still holding hands, the three men turned down a narrow, dark hallway. Dorian lit a flame in his palm, sent it floating to the ceiling.
They stopped. A door stood open, a tiny room beyond it. "Fasta vass... this is it?" Dorian whispered.
"Yes," they both replied.
"You were both confined in... for weeks... months?" Dorian's hand was over his mouth. "You told me... but..." He swung his fist at the door, making it clatter loudly in the dark corridor. "Vishante kaffas! I wish the bastard was alive, so I could kill him, myself!"
Anders and Fenris both shook, staring into the room. This was where they'd learned to survive, forged their bond, became one another. Where Anders had prayed for his death, and Fenris had prayed for Anders' life. Where they'd wept, suffered, despaired, nearly died.
"Burn it," Fenris whispered.
Anders and Dorian both flung out their hands, and sent flames shooting into the cell. It was mostly stone, but the masonry cracked, the stone charred, the door turned to ash.
When the mages had ceased their flame, Fenris pulled them back upstairs and outside, again. He didn't head to the carriage, though. He strode around the side of the building, and along a stone path through the tall grass.
"Where are we going?" Anders asked nervously.
"He's in the garden, I know he is."
A small memorial garden was set back from the house. It held several dozen monuments, upon which ashes were spread after cremation. Sure enough, a new one sat near the front. Danarius' name was chiseled on its onyx surface. It was a modest stone. Fenris was sure the magister would have been furious with the frugality of his memorial. His previous position had required some sort of monument; his ruin and reputation demanded nothing more than this knee-high brick.
Anders and Fenris stood before it. They looked at the paltry stone, then at each-other. Their hands went to their trouser ties. Side-by-side, they let their streams loose, and showered the stone in urine.
The rest of the ride to their estate was quiet. Anders and Fenris were wrapped in one another, as Anders gently sucked at Fenris' neck. The elf felt the mage still trembling. Fenris massaged his fingers in his soft hair. His eyes watched the passing scenery over Anders' shoulder, blinking in the sunshine. Dorian sat sideways with his feet up on his seat, watching the same scenery.
Fenris felt the mage pull away from his neck. He whispered in Anders' ear. "I know it upset you. Thank you for letting me... do what I needed to do."
Anders squeezed him, tightly. "Always."
Once home, they sat in Dorian's office, passing his flask of brandy, thinking their own thoughts.
"I'm going to buy it," Dorian abruptly declared.
"Why?" they asked.
"So I can raze it. That goes for the memorial garden, too. I'll have the monuments transplanted, all but one. That one meets the same end as the house."
"No argument, here," Anders replied.
"I should have shit on his stone," Fenris declared.
"I nearly did," Dorian admitted.
"You're kidding."
"No. I was this close to dropping trous and leaving a steaming calling-card on his ugly little rock."
"I'd pay to see that," Fenris said. Anders snorted.
"Yes. You and a fair number of others. Alas, a missed opportunity." He pocketed the empty flask, stood, and moved to his desk. He thumbed through some delivered correspondence, and pulled a large envelope out of the pile. "Eve wrote," he said.
Fenris and Anders roused from their deep thoughts. Dorian opened the letter, and began reading through it. "Maker's breath! She married Cullen!"
"She what?"
"That's wonderful!"
Dorian shook his head. "I can't believe it. I shall have to change my descriptors, again. He's adopted a stray mabari... typical Fereldan..." He continued reading through it.
"Oh... my." He lifted the envelope and shook it. Another letter fell out of it. He stood and carried it to them. "It's for you."
Anders took the thick envelope from him, and looked for the name of the sender.
It was from Varric Tethras, Viscount of Kirkwall.
tbc...
Author's Notes:
I'm sure Grey Warden stamina refers to something beyond the bedroom, but I'm a dirty, dirty girl. And, I just loved the idea of some sort of sex-magic-Holy-Grail that Tevinter mages had discovered at some point in history. If it's not clear in the story, Dorian's never experienced it. But, you know, he reads a lot. And, I'm sure there's some dog-eared, underlined passage in an ancient tome at the Circle library, that adolescent mages gather around and snigger at.
Ever returned to the scene of a traumatic event? It's... weird. Frightening, painful, and digs shit up.