AN: Another update, but don't expect another one for another fortnight or so. School is starting to pile up.
Enjoy!
One thing Fenris had not cared much for in Kirkwall was that they always seemed to end up in the same places over and over again. If it wasn't a dark alley that looked like any other dark alley, it was a warehouse with the same layout as another one across town, or it was the Wounded Coast with its many caves that also had similar layouts.
Denerim, and the surrounding countryside, was not like Kirkwall.
With the arrival of autumn, the air was crisp, and the surrounding farmlands were turning a warm shade of gold, occasionally dotted with the blue and red of fall flowers that had bloomed. Idly, Fenris thought he had not seen fields this colorful since he had left Teventer.
"Ferelden is much more beautiful than I was led to believe," he said as they passed by a lone tree bedecked in red and green foliage. "The colors seem so much more vibrant here."
"I actually missed some of my extra-curricular Circle classes when I came to Kirkwall because of this weather and the scenery," Anders laughed. "Odd, isn't it? A mage who escaped seven times, wishing he were back in the Tower taking a painting class."
"Why?" Fenris asked, curious. He had seen no proof of the mage having anything but a passing interest in art.
"Because in that class, a Senior Enchanter would accompany us across the lake to the opposite shore, and we would spend the whole day on the bank, painting what we could see. It was on days like this that I remember being as close to happy as I had ever been. We could paint…anything. It was a small freedom we enjoyed. Some painted nature, others painted towns…" He sighed. "Of course, when I started trying to escape, I wasn't allowed into classes like that anymore. Ah, to be that young and stupid again."
"You will manage, I'm sure," Fenris droned, smirking at the 'Hey!' from the mage. "What did you paint?" the elf asked after a moment.
Anders offered him a sidelong look. "When I first started? Golden fields, looming forests, dreamscapes and bits of memory of what I could remember of the Anderfels. When I hit twelve, thirteen…" he laughed. "Naked girls and boys. My instructor didn't know whether to be amused or upset."
He and Anders followed Zevran out of the city, and down a dirt road that wound its' way through the countryside. They passed a few travelers heading the other way, but the elf was surprised that they were not waylaid by bandits, especially this far outside a major city. In Kirkwall they seemed to jump out of the very night sky or appear out of nowhere when he turned a corner.
"I see the Commander has been busy," Anders said, nodding at the empty road- he seemed to have noticed the same thing that Fenris had. "Unless her reputation is again preceding her?"
Zevran chuckled. "She may or may not have encouraged the rumors that said she had placed protective wards around the city that never weaken, and that turn would-be raiders and bandits into dust."
Anders cocked an eyebrow. "As a former classmate of hers, I can say with absolute certainty that her glyphs and wards were always absolute rubbish."
"True," the assassin shrugged, offering a rather feral grin. "But the bandits don't know that, and her killing the Arch Demon is still fresh in everyone's minds."
They continued to walk as it became darker, and as it became colder, Fenris' feet started to hurt, the scarred ridges starting to throb. He frowned down at them, cursing his scars silently. It was bad enough to still be working his way back to his physical peak, but to have his feet and neck always tender-
"How much further, Zev?" Anders called. "I'd like a quick rest."
The assassin nodded, calling a halt and setting himself to the side of the road, plopping into the grass and looking up at the sky, perhaps checking their direction.
"What's hurting?"
Fenris started, turning to look up at the mage that was suddenly right next to him, his scent washing over the elf. Fenris drew in a deep breath, pain momentarily forgotten as he just basked in- he blinked, catching himself, fighting a blush. He cleared his throat and turned away, ears lowering apologetically.
"It's…just the top of my feet. I do not think the chill in the air agrees with them."
He watched as Anders knelt before him, gazing at his feet. "I can try to reduce the pain, but it won't do you any good," he said, looking up at the warrior sadly. "It might be best if we found you some boots to help keep the cold off of them though."
"Do not waste your energy," Fenris said, waving the mage off. "I can handle the pain until we get to where we are going."
"Wherever that is," Anders muttered.
They walked for another hour or so before they came to a small cottage right at the edge of a forest. Zevran held up a hand, motioning for them to wait there, and entered alone.
He came out a few moments later, a grin on his face.
"Come. We have some hunting to do. There are ruins nearby, and the concerned woman in there is afraid for a young girl she saw go in there."
"Ruins?" Anders asked, sounding worried.
"Girl?" Fenris repeated dread starting to fill his stomach. He stole a glance with the mage, and they both seemed to share the same thoughts:
There are abandoned ruins in the middle of nowhere where a strange girl disappeared into them?
This won't end well.
"I suppose Ferelden really isn't that different from the rest of Thedas," Fenris growled, ducking down and eviscerating an attacking corpse with his upswing, black bile spewing out onto the stone floor, nearly making the elf slip.
"How do you figure?" Anders grunted; his back was to Fenris' as he set fire to another attacker, quickly reducing it to ash.
"When women or ruins are involved, it nearly always leads to trouble," Fenris replied, decapitating an archer cleanly, the skull flying off in a random direction.
"But that is what makes it so exciting!" Zevran purred from the darkness, taking out the last corpse with a brutal stab in the back, daggers twisting sharply before pulling free. The body fell with a heavy thump. "Between the ruins and the possibility of rescuing a damsel in distress, I'm all aquiver my friends."
The ruins were what one would expect from molding, decaying ancient Teventer structures- demons, possessed corpses, traps, and an air of despair and suffering that had lingered despite the centuries. They had been going deeper in these ruins for the better part of the day, and they still had seen no sign of a girl in here.
They continued onward, despite this.
After fighting their way through more corpses, the trio came to a large circular room with only one item in it, which stood proudly at the center, where their target stood, hip cocked out to the side, dark hair trailing down her back, and her bare thighs glistening in the low light.
Zevran got to her first.
"Isabela! My first love, my only captain," he purred, darting towards her.
Isabela turned to the assassin, offering him a crooked smile, and a dagger at his throat. "Zev," she greeted, friendly despite the dangerous glint in her eye. "Why are you here, you poor man?"
"Someone was worried about the young girl who came in here and wanted us to check it out," the assassin said immediately, his smile still on his face. "As if I would ever take out that outstanding bounty on you, my dear."
Satisfied, Isabela replaced her dagger, finally looking past the blonde elf. Her eyes went wide as they landed on Anders, and they blew even wider when she finally spotted Fenris lurking in the shadows.
"Well, aren't you two coming out to say hello too?"
Anders was out in the open like a flash, Fenris following behind more cautiously. As he drew closer, he did realize that it was Isabela; no demon could properly replicate that smile, those eyes, or the way she seemed so comfortable in her own skin. And a demon, he realized suddenly, would not allow their creation to be marred in any way; Isabela had a small scar now on her bottom lip, and there were wrinkles in the corners of her eyes.
"Ah, I thought it was you Anders," she said fondly, offering the mage a friendly smile and a kiss on the cheek- an action that made Fenris clench his teeth for a moment before gaining control of himself.
"No one can pull off the scruffy under-fed Apostate like you can."
"Hey! I've been eating," he said.
Her eyes slid from him back to Fenris, a wicked grin dancing not only on her mouth but in her eyes. "Ah, but eating what, I wonder? Have you been getting enough protein in your diet?"
She couldn't know anything, the elf told himself firmly. She was a pirate, not a witch…probably.
"Isabela," Fenris offered stiffly, nodding in greeting.
"Sweet thing," she returned, surprising him and pulling him into a deep hug. He awkwardly returned it, patting her on the back.
"I ripped Hawke a new one when I found out what she had done to you," she whispered. "Couldn't beat her, of course, but I made my opinion known. I danced when she died. After seeing you like this, I almost wish she were still alive so I could gut her. No one deserves that," she held a hand over the scars on his arms, respectfully not touching them. "Especially not you."
He was touched- shocked, but touched. It was rare to see the true caring side to Isabela, though she was always friendly. He could not count how many times she had propositioned him or tried to guess the color of his undergarments. Yet he could count on one hand how many times she had seemed truly distressed and truly upset for another person. She wasn't as heartless as she wanted to portray.
Just as that thought came to mind, he jumped when she reached down and gave his ass a loving squeeze.
"You haven't changed one bit I see," he snarled, backing away, just out of reach of her fast and dexterous hands.
The pirate shrugged and gave a typical Isabela response. "What's to fix when you're perfect?"
"So what are you doing here, if I may ask my sweet Isabela?" Zevran said, sounding more businesslike than before.
"I'm running an errand for Kitten and her new clan," Isabela said, motioning to what Fenris now saw (with building dread) was a mirror. "She had heard rumors, and so she sent me to see if they were true."
"Are they?" Anders asked, giving the mirror a critical look.
Isabela shrugged. "As far as I can tell, it is a mirror, but if it is still magical, I can't tell without probably touching it. And after hearing what happened to Kitten's clans mate, I'm in no hurry to do that."
"I can help you there," Anders offered, stepping forward. He was halted with a firm hand on his shoulder.
Fenris glared at the healer, voicing his unhappiness at this turn of events with merely a look. They both knew the dangers if this mirror was anything like the one the Blood Mage had dabbled with before. Add into the equation that any magical item could have unexpected traits, the unknown history (magical and otherwise) of the ruins, and this was turning into something that was making Fenris want to grab the mage and drag him away from this mirror, this room, these ruins, and back somewhere that had a door that could lock, and that had a nice bed so he could toss the larger man down, follow him, and never leave again.
All this, he hoped he showed in his gaze.
Anders seemed to get the message, because his gaze softened a little. "Fenris," he said softly. "I've dealt with unknown magical items before, I know what to do and not do. I won't take any unnecessary risks, and this won't take very long, I promise."
It wasn't the response Fenris wanted, but it was the best he could hope for. Grudgingly, he let the healer go, and watched avidly as the mage stood in front of the mirror.
Anders did not touch it; he merely stared at it, looking thoughtful. He started muttering something under his breath, hand lifting and making unknown signs at the mirror. Fenris kept one eye on the mirror, waiting for any sign of danger, while the other eye watched the mage's hands move. Such wonderful hands the healer had, he thought. His hands were thorn-bitten, rough from holding a staff, yet exceedingly gentle and graceful.
"It's a dud," Anders said after several moments of this. "It may have worked once, but it's completely empty of magic now."
"Damn," Isabela muttered. "Kitten will be so disappointed. Oh well. I'll just have to find something shiny to help take her mind off of it."
They searched the room, Anders pausing thoughtfully in front of a small chest. "You know, when a room is this big, there is usually something horrible and monstrous residing in it. Where's the beastie?"
"Do not tempt Fate," Zevran hissed from across the room. "She is friends with Fortune, who is a very tricky whore."
There was a low roar from above, and the very columns started to shudder.
Anders offered Fenris a repentant, tight smile. "Um…knicker weasels?"
It had been the strangest fight Fenris could remember to date; animated corpses possessed by demons, he was familiar with.
But the ancient bones of a dragon that roared and spat lightning at him? That was a new one. What made it even more odd was that it was, of all people, Anders who took control and seemed to know what to do. Isabela and Zevran were commanded to hide until the skeletal beast had turned away from them, then strike when they got the chance, disappearing into the shadows when it turned to them once more.
Anders sent bolt after bolt of ice at the creature, all the while calling to it and taunting it. Fenris used the opportunity to run right at the beast, dodging a claw swipe, striking his sword against a leg bone. The bone cracked, but didn't break. Fenris whirled back away from the beast, grimly realizing that this would take longer than he wished. He concentrated on the beast, keeping an eye on Anders and darting in when he could to help the mage.
By the time the dead beast fell, Fenris could barely keep himself from collapsing. As the only one who had any heavy weaponry, he had been battering at the damn thing most of the time- and getting in close. Right before it had gone down with a final blast of magic from Anders, it had grabbed Fenris in its' mouth, clamping down and shaking him like a dog with a bone before spitting him out and crushing him to the floor with a large clawed paw.
Fenris knew he should probably not have stood up, but it was a matter of pride. His head swam with dizziness, from both pain and blood loss, but at least he wasn't laying down like that beast, he was still standing and-
"If you don't sit your sorry arse down now, I'll light your pants on fire," Anders snarled as he came into view, hands already glowing with blue healing magic.
It was surprising to see the mage so upset without Fenris having said anything. It was even more surprising that Fenris found himself immediately obeying the mage, gingerly sitting himself down on a chunk of rock and setting aside his sword so the healer could get where he needed without obstruction.
"Cracked ribs, wrenched limbs, puncture wounds," Anders muttered as he ran his hands over the elf's shivering form. "Well, considering what it was, you got off lucky."
Fenris didn't reply, save for a soft, pleasured sigh as the magic started to course through his frame. He let out a soft moan of appreciation, not caring if the two rogues heard him; for all they knew, he was expressing pleasure at no longer being in pain, not…the residual effects.
The healing lasted for several long moments, the area silent save for the hum and Anders' magic and the sound of Zevran and Isabela chatting as they looted the skeleton and proceeded to look for more loot around the area.
The magic faded, and Fenris gingerly flexed some of his muscles. Some were sore, but he could deal with that. He looked up, about to offer Anders thanks, when the words died before they left his mouth.
The mage was gazing at him with a soft, tender expression that tugged at something in Fenris' chest. Keeping eye contact with those warm brown eyes, the elf reached out, gently grasping one of the healer's hands, and pulled it up to his lips, gently planting a kiss on the inside of a calloused palm. He closed his eyes as he heard the sharp intake of breath from the other man and then kissed his hand again, tongue darting out to lightly lick at at a small scar before retreating once more.
"Thank you," Anders said quietly. He offered the warrior a small smile. "Very chivalrous of you."
Fenris shifted a little uncomfortably as the two rouges came into view, heading their way. "I am no knight in shining armor."
"I never wanted a knight in shining armor," Anders replied, completely serious. "I wanted someone who wore armor that gave me easy access to their assets."
The pirate and assassin looked at Fenris like he had lost his mind when they reached the pair, but Fenris just couldn't stop laughing. It didn't help that Anders shared a smug smile with him.
"Oh, tell me what's got him in stitches, please?" Isabela begged Anders. "His laugh is adorable!"
Fenris immediately stopped laughing, which made Anders start up his own peel of laughter due to the look of complete outrage that was directed at the pirate.
"I am not adorable."
"You should see him when he blushes," Zevran smirked. "Very enduring. Cute, even. It makes me want to whisper dirty things in his ear."
"I am not-"
"Whoops, look at the time, let's get out before more beasties come," Anders interrupted. "Come on, come on, this mage doesn't do well in cramped dark places. Let's go!"
Isabela led them to the Dalish camp, reaching it just at sunset. Fenris was actually surprised at the greeting the Dalish gave them- he was used to being barely tolerated as a 'flat-ear', yet this group seemed…friendly. Several of the warriors had way-laid him when he had entered the camp, asking about his weapon and form in battle. A little nervous, Fenris did the best he could with their questions. They didn't seem to mind his awkwardness; indeed, the leader of the group, a young dark-haired elf named Gilanmar, kept offering Fenris encouraging smiles and even chuckled at some of the small stories of the adventures that Fenris told them.
At first, he thought they were genuinely interested in what he had to say. But then the warrior realized that Gilanmar was getting closer, and had a decidedly interested look on his face when he looked at Fenris. When he reached out and gently stroked Fenris' ear, he quickly babbled something that he hoped wasn't too rude and retreated back towards where Isabela and Anders were. He promptly took up post behind the healer, hoping the larger man would block him from other unwanted advances.
"Looks like you made a new friend," Isabela said, nodding towards the group of warriors who were still watching Fenris, lead of course by Gilanmar, who was giving Fenris a very open, friendly look.
Fenris resisted the urge to snarl. "There may have been a miscommunication."
"Oh no," Isabela replied, her eyes glittering with amusement. "The Dalish are quite adept at reading body language. He knows you are…taunt with frustration. You talked with him, which makes him think he has a chance of bending you over a barrel and fucking your brains out until you aren't so taunt anymore."
Fenris stared at her, mouth opening to argue…but nothing came out. He blinked, glancing back towards the group of warriors. Gilanmar caught his gaze and offered him a very predatory, very promising, smile.
Oh, no. No no no no-
"Help me," he groaned.
He should have known that look in Anders' eyes meant trouble. "Gladly."
Fenris then found himself in the mage's arms, leaning so far back that he only had one foot on the ground, and he was staring right up into Anders' face. The mage looked incredibly smug- Fenris opened his mouth to protest this sort of display, but was silenced when the other man's mouth caught his in a deep, passionate kiss. Fenris' brain stopped working- that was the only reason he kissed back, he told himself later. That was the only reason that it was Isabela's cat-calls that stopped them from continuing further, in front of a much larger audience.
Anders righted the warrior, smirking at the few cheers and claps directed at them. "I hate you," Fenris gritted out, head spinning a little from lack of air and ears flushing darkly under the scrutiny.
"I know," Anders laughed. "But you asked for help and I delivered."
"Told you they'd do it," Isabela called over to the assassin, who was sitting in front of a fire a few feet away. With a grumble, he removed something from his jerkin, and tossed it at her. The pirate caught the sovereign deftly, automatically biting it to check authenticity.
"You bet on us?" Fenris asked, feeling some of the color fading from his ears as everyone started going back to their own business. "What was the exact bet?"
The pirate smiled. "I can't tell you. It's still on-going. And look, your new friends have come over to say hello."
Fenris looked over the group of elves warily; so far, this group had seemed friendly by Dalish standards. He was used to being called names because he wasn't Dalish, he was used to being looked at like a strange dog that could turn on them at any moment. This was what he had learned from his first and last Dalish tribe he had met.
This tribe seemed infinitely friendlier, but he did know that as a whole, Dalish tended to frown on elves having relationships with non-elves; specifically, with humans. Tense, waiting for whatever to come, Fenris waited for the group, for Gilanmar, to speak.
Gilanmar gave him a small nod, eyes decidedly cooler now, and then turned his attention to Anders. With his tall frame, dark hair and very blue eyes, Gilanmar was a rather intimidating Dalish, especially since his face was, unless he smiled, rather stony and unreadable. The azure tattoos that curled around his eyes and flared out on his forehead added another layer of intimidation.
He spoke, his previously warm baritone rather chilly now. "You intend to court our city brother?"
"Yes," Anders replied, undaunted.
Gilanmar looked the mage over slowly, a smile cracking his stony façade by whatever he saw. "I see. Come, we have much to discuss."
And with that, Fenris watched his security blanket get whisked away by a group of handsome Dalish hunters.
"Oh, poor sweetheart," Isabela laughed. She took his hand, gently leading him away. "Come on, let's go see Kitten. She'll be happy to see you."
'Happy' was an understatement, Fenris realized moments later- why the Blood Mage was this enthusiastic to see him, when he had raged and railed against her kind every chance he could get, he would never know.
However, the witch had always been…kind to him, he realized as she darted first to Isabela, planting a kiss on her cheek. The least he could do was act civil at the very least-
"Fenris?" The witch turned to him, green eyes blown wide. "Fenris!" she squealed, and for the second time that day, he found himself in a surprise hug. Unlike Isabela, however, Merrill was actually squeezing him rather hard, making breathing difficult.
"Kitten, let him breathe," the pirate said gently.
"Really? Oops," she immediately let him go, letting him gasp for air. "Sorry Fenris. I just thought I'd never see you again, after-" she stopped herself from continuing, biting her lip. "Sorry," she offered. "I'm babbling. I'll shut up now."
"It is…alright," Fenris coughed stiffly. "It is good to see you are still alive, mage."
"Oh, Fenris, that's very sweet of you to say," Merrill chattered. "I know you don't like magic at all, but I heard you followed another mage into camp? Who-"
"Merrill," Anders called out, appearing as if out of nowhere- the Dalish hunters were a few yards off, smiling at each other and talking animatedly.
"Merrill," Anders said again, offering the small elf a smile. "So good to see you."
Merrill blinked for a moment, glancing back between Fenris and Anders. She then let out another squeal, turning to Isabela.
"Izzy," she said, nearly jumping up and down in excitement. "Are they-"
"Uh huh," the pirate drawled, a wicked smile on her face. "You just missed a very public kiss."
"Will you stop hugging me?" Fenris said, his snarl turning into a whimper when the witch started squeezing him once more.
"Merrill, sweetheart," Anders said, coming over and gently prying the smaller elf from Fenris. "Kindly keep your hands off my vhenan'ara."
Whatever Anders had said had an almost magical effect on the little witch; Merrill immediately let him go, turning to stare at the human.
"Is…truly, Anders?" She glanced back at Fenris, who didn't deign to even look at her while he fixed his armor. "Really? You two have always been at each other's throats. Even Isabela's friend fiction didn't delve into…is he really your vhenan'ara?"
"Yes," Anders said, just as soundly as he had answered the Dalish hunters.
Merrill beamed. "I'm so very happy for you two! Oh, you'll have to come to our festival tonight! We hold it once a year in the autumn to celebrate and give thanks for a bountiful year. There will be food and dancing-"
"And snogging," Isabela added.
"And snogging," Merrill parroted, looking confused for a moment. "Well, that's not necessary, but it wouldn't be frowned on."
"What, pray tell, is a vhena'ara?" Fenris asked.
"It's…oh, it's very sweet of Anders to call you that," Merrill said, seemingly unable to keep from smiling. "It's an endearment, like sweetheart or love. I suppose roughly translated it means 'heart's desire'. It's a very…sweet, tender name. Untouched."
"How so?" Fenris asked, unable to stop himself.
Merrill, surprisingly, blushed. "Um, newer couples tend to use that term up until…they get their heart's desire, then they usually start calling each other 'love' or-"
"Wait a moment," Fenris said, halting her with a calm look. "By 'getting their heart's desire' you mean…"
"They fuck," Isabela crowed.
"Isabela!" Merrill scolded. "One would not use that term if that was all that they were after! It is one of the most romantic expressions of love we have in our society, and-"
Fenris latched a hand onto Anders' coat, tugging him off to the side. "Excuse us. I need to discuss something with this one."
"Um, Fenris," Anders said nervously. "I didn't really know what it meant," he started babbling when they halted behind an aravel. "Your friends talked to me about my intentions towards you; I told them, and then they asked me if you were my vhena'ara. It sounded pretty, so I said yes."
Fenris stared. "You said yes to a word you had no idea what it meant."
"Yes."
"Because it was pretty."
"Yes."
"And it turns out that not only is it a term of endearment, it also broadcasts to the whole Dalish tribe that we haven't fully consummated our relationship?"
Anders offered the elf a sheepish look, scratching the back of his neck. "Erm, it would appear that way, yes."
Fenris sighed, leaving the mage by the aravel and headed back towards Isabela. "Wench," he said in greeting, eyes dull. "Where does an elf go to get drunk around here?"
Several hours later, and the celebration was in full swing. Fenris did not mind as much as he normally would- it was amazing what alcohol could do for one's tolerance of noise, he mused, tipping his mug back as he watched several male Dalish start dancing and hooting around the bonfire, chasing and being chased by each other. Several of the women joined in the chase, laughing and calling to each other playfully.
Zevran was keeping him company as they drank, the assassin surprisingly much easier to tolerate when he wasn't making snide comments or leering at Fenris or Anders.
"Ah, looks like we have a treat before us," the assassin purred, licking his lips. Unperturbed, Fenris glanced over at the bonfire- and nearly dropped his mug.
Anders had changed out of his robes, and was now wearing low-cut trousers and a leather vest that was open- fully showing off the mage's physique. A belt of shells draped over his hips, clinking with every step he took. His skin gleamed, as if he had been oiled up, and his hair was down- beautiful blonde with red in the fire light. Anders spotted him, offering Fenris a smile as he quietly talked to the musicians before stepping fully into the firelight- and Fenris' line of sight. With a deep breath…Anders turned his back to Fenris.
"One of his better sides," the assassin whispered. "Such a strong, lanky frame for a mage. What wonderful positions you could contort him into-"
"Hush," Fenris said, waving his mug at the other elf. "Do not hiss such things in my ear."
The elf watched, transfixed as the drums started out a simple beat, and…the mage's backside followed the beat, shaking and rolling to the beat.
"Hmm," Isabela's voice purred on Fenris' other side. "Such a scrumptious arse. Can you imagine getting your hands on that, Zev?"
"Oh, I wouldn't dare, not with our broody friend here already laying claim," the blonde elf laughed.
He was just going to ignore them, both of them. He would not be distracted from…this.
Then the bells came in, and the healer started adding steps, dancing out, hips moving and undulating rhythmically, the shells clicking out the beat. Anders twirled once, gazing in Fenris' direction and offering a mischievous wink. He stretched out his arms, hands curled up towards the elf, as if he could draw the warrior to him.
"He wants you, Fenris," Isabela cackled. "Why don't you go to him?"
"Isabela," Zevran said. "Give this poor man a little slack. You want him to engage Anders, here, in front of everyone? He's inexperienced-"
"I don't see how any of this is any of your business," Fenris snarled, eyes flashing at the pair of rogues for a heartbeat before being drawn back to his mage.
Anders' hips kept moving to the beat of the drums, his step going higher on every other beat or so and emphasizing his hips on others. When the drum rolled, his hips followed it exactly. He stepped out when the beat intensified, arms spreading out and legs darting out and his feet kicking up before pounding onto the ground, all the while his hips, his wonderful, thrusting hips-
"Ah, what a lovely display," Zevran purred next to him. "Imagine those moves against you, thrusting-"
"Be silent," Fenris snapped. "I will not be distracted from this."
The music played on, and Fenris did not tear his eyes away from Anders' display. As the beat reached its' crescendo, Anders twirled once, twice, arms up and emphasizing his biceps. When the drum gave a firm final beat, the mage froze; arms up, one foot firmly on the ground while the other was in mid-air.
Fenris noticed the elf from earlier, Gilanmar, was still watching Anders, staring at him as he danced. Fenris did not care much for the other warrior looking at his healer like that. He wondered, briefly, if it was a Dalish taboo for a guest to kill a clansman who was eyeing his…interest with…interest.
"Oh Fenris," Isabela sighed. "Why can't you smolder at me like that?"
The beat started again, this time more slow. Instead of dancing like before, Anders' turned, offering the elf his profile and flexed his stomach, undulating it with the beat. In the fire light, Fenris found his eyes transfixed on the small patch of golden hair starting at the bottom of the mage's belly-button and disappearing under the man's trouser line. Up, down, up, down. Then he started to shift and shake his hips with the undulating movements of his stomach, arms rising above his head, stretching out his form in a pleasing manner. Fenris couldn't tear his eyes away.
Zevran chuckled. "You do know what this dance is for, yes?"
Fenris grunted once, uncaring.
"To show off sex appeal, of course," the assassin continued, unperturbed at Fenris' disinterest. "See those lovely movements? Those are exactly the same movements you use when you have someone riding you-"
"Continue to blabber in my ear," Fenris growled, eyes firmly fixed on Anders' hips and pelvis. "And I will remove yours."
"You know you just sound sexier the more you growl like that," Isabela pointed out. "You should talk to Anders like that…well, more than you do usually, and I'll guarantee he'll be putty in your hands."
Anders continued dancing, catching Fenris' gaze firmly, arm raising to his shoulder level- as if holding onto someone; his hips started moving faster, more sharply, and Fenris had the sudden image of Anders holding him there, moving and grinding against him to the beat of the music. Flushing, he looked down at his mug, trying to calm his thoughts. Damn the pirate and the assassin for putting his mind in such a state.
He nearly choked when he looked back up, and Anders was right there, still moving to the music. Fenris couldn't look away if he wanted to- and with the mage's crotch and abdomen right in his face, he most definitely did not want to look away. Anders offered the elf a quick laugh, turning his back to the warrior, presenting Fenris with a wonderful eye-level view of his rear. Fenris kept his gaze locked on that suddenly shaking, shimmying, thrusting- oh Maker, Fenris thought dizzily. People should not be able to move like that; it kept giving Fenris wonderful ideas on how those moves could be put to use in a much more private setting.
With a final quick shimmy, and a roll of his hips that brought the mage's rear-end tantalizingly close, the song ended. The Dalish all let out cheers as Anders stepped back towards the circle of elves, offering them a quick bow.
That was it. The elf really couldn't stand it anymore- he would probably regret this later, but he'd be damned if he didn't do this now. Fenris swallowed the rest of his drink and stood.
"Healer."
Anders turned to look back at Fenris, a knowing smile on his face. "Yes?"
Fenris strode over to the taller man, looking around him at the elf who had been eyeing the mage like a piece of meat. Meeting his eyes, he grabbed the waist of Anders' trousers and pulled him along behind him, heading away from the fire and into the forest.
Mine.
"Is everything alright, Fenris?" Anders asked, sounding concerned now.
Fenris didn't answer, leading the mage deeper into the forest. Anders fell silent, probably cottoning on to what the elf was up to. Fenris didn't care. Once they were far enough away from the noise and the light, Fenris let go of Anders' trousers, stepping back to lean against a tree.
Anders cocked his head, looking worried. "Fenris? What-"
Fenris cleared his throat, halting the mage from finishing his question. "I…would like to request a private show, if you are amiable."
He had never seen such a large, dangerous, predatory smile on the mage before. "Gladly. Would you, my good ser, perhaps be interested in my Spicy Shimmy?"
The elf settled on the ground, leaning his back against the tree. "Spicy Shimmy?" he asked, amused. "Is it as promising as it sounds?"
"Much better," the mage chuckled. "I would never show those Dalish this dance. Just you."
That statement pleased Fenris far more than it should have. Possessive, indulgent feelings didn't belong to a slave-
But he wasn't a slave. Not anymore. A free man could do what he wanted, take what he wanted.
He wanted this.
He smiled. "Indulge me, then."
Anders dipped, head inclined as he bowed gracefully to Fenris. "As Serrah Handsome wishes of me."
There was no music for this dance the mage started, no extra light to highlight his muscles, no distractions in the form of Isabela and Zevran.
Nothing except him and his slowly shimmying healer.
Fenris watched, completely bewitched by Anders' movements; he was moving his hips like before, but slower, with more purpose, slowly inching his way closer to the seated elf.
"Tell me what you're thinking," Anders whispered, twirling gracefully with his hands raised above him. "Tell me what's going on in that beautiful head of yours."
Fenris swallowed. To give voice to his desires in this way would certainly cement things, make them seem more real. He had no problem showing his desire through action…but with words? Actions spoke louder than words, yet everyone wanted your word. Words…added a depth to things that actions could not. Actions were straightforward, blunt, with no real room for interpretation. Words were many faceted things; what was not said was just as important as what was said, and how you worded something could change the entire meaning.
Fenris was not good with words, especially when it came to himself. But, perhaps for this, he could try.
"You…fascinate me," he admitted slowly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "I've never seen a man move like you do."
"Isabela taught me this a while back," Anders admitted. "She wanted to do more, but Justice wouldn't allow anything past this dancing."
"She taught you well," Fenris replied, eyes easily following the mage's undulating movements. "I've never thought as much about the male form as I have tonight. I have always found you pleasing to look at, but this-" he stopped, swallowing.
"This?" Anders prompted softly.
"This," Fenris breathed. "My desire is much stronger than I realized."
"Tell me what you want," the mage said, coming to a stop in front of the elf, arms stretched towards the treetops, exposing his form. "Tell me what you want, and I will give you everything."
The request is out before he can censor himself.
"Strip."
The smile Anders gives him is nearly blinding in the darkness. "Gladly, Fenris," he purred, starting to dance again, stomach flexing and rolling enticingly. As he did this, he slowly pulled his arms out of the vest, shrugging it off.
Fenris watched as Anders rid himself of the vest, then the belt, and his trousers with an unwavering gaze. The mage was talented, to be sure; Fenris knew he wouldn't have been able to keep dancing, slow and sensual as it was, while taking his clothes off. Anders made it an art form.
The lines of his body shifted and wavered as Fenris watched, imagining that it was him who was making Anders move like that. He wanted, desperately, to touch the other man, but he kept his hands to himself, clenching them tightly as the mage continued to dance.
Now Anders was down to his smalls, and Fenris could help the soft groan that escaped him as the mage started to trail a hand down his chest. Fenris easily imagined it was his own scarred hand dragging down that path, starting from the healer's throat and drifting down to circle around a peck and lightly scratching at a nipple before continuing down the side. He could easily see his hands gripping Anders' hips as the mage danced, feeling the mage move against him. He could see his hands drifting once more, drifting over Anders' thighs and brushing against his hardness.
Fenris groaned, the tightness building in his pants becoming too much. He was reaching into his trousers and pulling himself out before he stopped himself, paralyzed by his thoughts.
Was this too much? What if someone came upon them? What if Anders was disgusted by his crassness? Anders had offered to dance, not to become wanking material. What if-
"Don't stop, Fenris," Anders called, his thumbs hooked under the waistband of his smalls. "Please," he added, a begging note there that Fenris had not noticed before.
He was not a good man, or a strong one, Fenris thought to himself. He gave in.
He kept his strokes short and fast, never taking his eyes off of the dancing man. Fenris smirked and then laughed when the mage did a quick shimmy and a hop that left him naked. He continued dancing, coming closer and closer to the seated elf. Fenris tilted his head up as he got closer, his strokes quickening as he caught more detail on the rolling muscle, the swelling cock and the wonderful, wonderful precise movements of Anders' hips.
"Fenris."
He gazed up higher, locking his gaze with Anders' warm brown ones. The warrior couldn't look away; he was transfixed on those eyes, those eyes that had stared him down countless times, those eyes that now were looking on him with something soft and warm, something that made his chest clench-
He came with a clenched hiss, spilling over his hand. Only then did he break away from Anders' gaze.
Fenris took a few deep, steadying breaths before looking back at the mage. He nearly jumped to find Anders kneeling before him, lust and adoration in his gaze.
"So beautiful," Anders whispered. He reached out, pausing before he could actually touch the elf's heaving belly. "May I touch you?"
Swallowing, a little unsure, Fenris nodded.
He shivered when the mage scooted closer, the other man's body heat a welcome thing in the suddenly cooler forest. Fenris watched as the mage leaned down, one hand pushing up his shirt while the other tugged his trousers lower. He started kissing his belly and going lower with his stubble-rough kisses.
"Too much," Fenris begged when the mage gently, for the first time, licked his spent cock. So wonderful, so wet, but way too much too soon. "Too-"
"Alright," Anders murmured soothingly, gently nipping at the elf's thigh. "Alright. Give me your hand."
When Fenris did, the elf started cursing softly when the other man turned his palm up and started lapping up the elf's seed, tongue darting and dexterous. Fenris felt his stomach clench and his cock twitch in interest- it was too soon to do anything more, but his body certainly liked what he saw.
When Anders had finished cleaning his hand, he looked up at Fenris, eyes half hooded with satisfaction. "You taste wonderful."
Well, the rest of the blood in his body just went right to his face, Fenris thought dryly as he felt himself flush. "Thank you?"
Anders laughed, pushing himself up and starting to look for his clothing.
Fenris stared at the mage's still hard cock. "You didn't-"
"No, I didn't," Anders agreed, already starting to dress.
Fenris watched him, frowning slightly. Had it been that disturbing to watch him wank off that Anders couldn't finish now?
The mage seemed to have picked up on Fenris' uncertainty, because he offered the elf a smile. "I really enjoyed this," he said quietly. "But I don't think I'd be able to control myself if I actually started touching myself in front of you when you look like…like what you do."
"And what do I look like?" Fenris asked slowly.
Anders licked his lips before answering. "Ravishing. Delectable."
Fenris snorted, pulling himself together and buttoning his trousers. "You are delusional, mage."
"And you're blind and forgetful if you didn't see how me or the other blokes back at camp were looking at you," Anders replied bluntly. He offered the elf a hand, fully clothed now. "C'mon. There's an aravel with our names on it."
Fenris smiled, putting his hand in Anders and letting himself be led back to camp, feeling freer than he had in a long time.