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Hawke was shuddering through his fourth orgasm of the night, dragged over the edge roughly, mercilessly, by Anders’ magic fucking into him, stretching him wide with invisible yet tangible pressure, slick and sizzling with faint pulses of electricity. By Anders’ mouth biting and sucking at the sensitive skin of his neck, scorching hot one moment and cold with winter’s breath the next. By the slow thrusts of Anders hips against his, entangled in the armchair as they were, their cocks rubbing together just so that the friction fast became too much, too good to bear—
Hawke gasped, and moaned, writhing beneath Anders’ weight, having just enough presence of mind to tighten his grip on Anders’ waist and send stray sparks of lightning dancing over his lover’s skin in turn, coaxing Anders to come apart right after with a groan of his own. They both panted harshly, limbs and mana tangled together as sensation peaked for long, blinding moments before tense and quivering muscles sagged into complete and utter relaxation.
Not that they were anywhere near done for the night, of course. It was a night of testing out the limits of their magic, weaving every spell that might prove useful in their quest for pleasure. But the thought of moving anytime soon (any coherent thought, really) after a release that intense seemed to Hawke an impossibility. And yet, before Hawke could even catch his breath, Anders placed one last harsh bite on his neck and slid to the floor, covering Hawke's softening length with his mouth. Hawke gasped, thrusting into the wet heat even as he felt overstimulated to the point of pain, but then... then Anders summoned the tingling mix of creation and lightning magic to his tongue, and the desire for a break gave in to desperate, burning need.
“Fuck!” Hawke cried out, hand flicking out to bury itself in the softness of Anders’ hair. Anders sucked hard, taking him down to the base, watching him all the while, eyes half-lidded and glinting with amusement. “Anders—please, I—”
Hawke didn't know whether to beg Anders to stop or to plead for more. His cock ached with too much sensation, and yet the wave upon wave of building pleasure made him yearn for more of it. Made him moan, nearly scream from the unyielding onset of another orgasm that ripped through him like a shockwave and left him panting, shaking as he spilled long and hard into Anders' mouth. He felt Anders' groan against his length, felt the smooth drag of tongue that still hummed with magic, wringing every last drop of come from Hawke until it was—
"Too much," he sobbed, and Anders relented, sliding off him with a lewd, wet sound.
"I can see that." Anders nodded towards the window, his lips stretched into a teasing smile as he watched Hawke shudder through the aftershocks. Hawke only frowned at the words, too weak with pleasure to even turn his head. "Who needs windows anyway, right, love?"
That made Hawke look and see exactly why the last orgasm resembled a shockwave—because he'd apparently created one. The row of windows and the (previously) thick glass of the door leading to the balcony were reduced to a mess of grainy shards.
"Oh," Hawke said aptly, "fuck."
"Fuck—I like the idea," Anders said, grin widening as he rubbed slow circles into Hawke's thighs. "We have yet to get to that."
"Move to the bed?"
"The bed? Love, you see the—what’s left of that bedpost over there, right?"
And sure, Hawke supposed one of the bedposts was bent precariously low, leaving one corner of the canopy without balance. Another of the room's furnishings broken by their earlier... enthusiasm.
Hawke waved him off. "It'll do."
“It will fall on us, love, with how hard I’m going to fuck you, and then we'll end up with broken bones."
“Well," Hawke drawled, "good thing we have this marvelously talented healer around to heal those, isn't it?”
“No, love." Anders narrowed his eyes, appraising—and Hawke knew that look. Craved for what always followed after. "I'm going to fuck you against the wall, I think." Hawke's breath caught as he watched Anders' tongue dart out to lick his lips, red, and tender, and stretched into a wicked smirk. "Hard and fast, just like you want it. Make you come untouched just from the feel of me inside you, from my magic taking you apart. Think you can handle it?"
"I think," Hawke tried to keep his voice from shaking with the need rattling him from the inside, "I think you're the one who should be worried about handling me, Anders. I'm the one with the muscly build you know." He flexed his arm and waggled his eyebrows to make his point. "No offense."
"None taken." Anders' eyes were alight with mischief as he continued tracing circles lazily along Hawke's thighs, higher each time until his fingers brushed almost brushed his softening cock. "Remember I told you I wanted to try something new tonight?"
"Ye-es?"
"Well."
In a swift flurry of movement, Anders stood, dragging Hawke from the armchair and lifting him, pinning him against the wall with far more strength than he should have been able to wield—at least this effortlessly.
"Justice lending me strength," he explained, and Hawke couldn't hold in the sharp groan escaping his lips at the brief flash of spirit energy around Anders' forearms.
"That is," Hawke gasped, "unbelievably hot."
A kiss stole the rest of Hawke's breath away, and he lost himself in it. Lost himself in the bruising grip of Anders' hands, surrounded by the familiar scent of fresh elfroot, and of lyrium—the sharp heady tang of the air after a lightning strike. Hawke grew dizzy with it, pulled Anders close, and wrapped his legs around his waist. Anders’ thick length pressed against his ass, hard and insistent, as his mouth captured every one of Hawke’s ragged moans and whimpers.
"Anders," Hawke moaned against his lips, "Anders, I want—“
"Tell me." Anders’ gaze was molten fire, his skin scorching heat where it was pressed against Hawke’s.
"You. Want you. Please."
Hawke didn't get what he wanted. Never did, with Anders like this, intent to unravel him completely, to tease, and touch, and bite, and suck until Hawke was all but sobbing with unsatisfied need. Anders leaned down to capture a nipple into his mouth, still radiating pulses of magic that seemed to fill him whole. The magic that now fizzled with unrestrained energy like it seldom ever did in day-to-day life, when Anders kept his magic carefully subdued under his command. And Hawke took some comfort in this thrilling power he himself had—making Anders lose control like this and let the raw chaos loose.
If only he'd stop driving Hawke mad with it.
"I'm ready, Anders—fuck!" Words failed him as Anders' mouth turned cold, almost painfully so, as he sucked on the hardened nub, and bit, and laved it with his tongue, now prickling with sudden heat. Hawke was shaking, desperate, wrought with, "—need—Anders, I need—just fuck me already."
"Demanding." Anders huffed with laughter. "I liked it when you were begging so prettily a minute ago."
"Please," Hawke growled, "Maker damn you!"
"You're so sure you're ready for me, love?" Anders growled.
He slipped two fingers into Hawke's slick hole, coaxing out a near-scream as he sent simmering heat and the gentle hum of creation magic rushing straight to that spot that had Hawke arching in his arms, hips bucking shamelessly into the touch. Warm, prickling energy coursed through Hawke's entire body, wrapping around his already half-hard cock and bringing it back to hard and straining in no time, pressing insistently against Anders' stomach.
"Maker, but you feel good." Anders lowered his head to bury it in the crook of Hawke's neck, adding a third finger and thrusting into him faster, harder. So good and yet nowhere near enough.
Hawke whimpered, "Anders—"
"Yes." Anders withdrew his fingers abruptly, leaving Hawke's hole clenching, empty, and aching for the feel of Anders filling him.
He didn't have to wait long, this time.
His breath stuttered as Anders pressed into him with deliberate slowness, biting hard into his lower lip, eyes unfocused and face flushed as he buried himself inch by inch. Hawke groaned at the stretch, loud and shameless, shivering at the feel of Anders' magic radiating from him in waves, coiling under Hawke's skin and pushing into his veins until Hawke felt ruled by it—and the sin of it wrought nothing but bliss.
"Such beautiful sounds you make for me, love," Anders breathed, lifting Hawke's leg higher to shift the angle just so, making them both groan at the motion.
"You feel so fucking good." Anders' words were muffled against Hawke's neck, against his jaw as he peppered the heated skin with sharp bites and bruising kisses. He pushed in deeper in a glide of maddening friction, and try as Hawke might to say Anders' name, all that escaped his lips were wordless pleas for more.
"So tight, so hot, all mine."
The words were warmth, heat, and the staggering rush of want coursing through Hawke's veins. And there, Anders finally bottomed out, and Hawke couldn't hold in the whimper that tore past his lips. He felt suspended, more than physically, held up as he was only by the wall and Anders' bruising grip. Suspended in that moment of white-hot pleasure, completion, and the sweet ache for whenever Anders would finish savoring the moment and just—
"Move," Hawke half-whispered, voice too weak to manage anything else, "Anders."
His name was prayer, one Hawke whispered, again and again, his mind unable to muster any other semblance of intelligent thought as Anders finally thrust, and Hawke prayed for more.
Hawke's moans were confession, burning need and frantic desire laid bare. Anders' hand tangled hard in Hawke's hair, drawing him in for another rough kiss as Anders fucked into him, and again, and harder yet, the rhythm fast, punishing, perfect. The friction of their bodies and the low, bitten-back moans escaping Anders' lips were Hawke's undoing. Steady trickles of precome leaked from his cock as it bounced against skin, pleasure building fast as Anders unerringly hit that spot within him, making Hawke writhe in his grip, rendering his hoarse groans into needy whimpers.
Their kisses, rough, open-mouthed, and searing—those were worship, cathartic as the magic-fueled heat building between them. And Hawke was ready as ever to worship Anders all night, and all day, for the rest of their lives and beyond.
"Want to—ah," Hawke gasped against Anders' lips, ass clenching around his length after a particularly hard thrust, "try something—fuck, yes yes—new too. I—"
"Tell me." Anders didn't slow for a second, drawing away just far enough to lock his eyes with Hawke's, looking at him with that awed kind of reverence that left Hawke defenseless, unmade by the crackling fire that was Anders' affection.
In place of an answer, Hawke showed him. Made Anders feel the heat concentrate and radiate from the points where their skin touched, slick friction melting into raw power that tingled along sweat-slick skin. Spirit and force joined into a single stream of energy that flowed from Hawke to Anders, making him cry out from the shock of it, the doubtless dizzying rush of magical energy. Hawke knew how it must feel, having thoroughly tried it on himself, knew how the heightened sensation all but drowned out the outside world and reduced it to one concentrated current of pleasure.
Anders fucked into him with renewed vigor, all but slamming Hawke into the wall, the impact somewhat softened by a hastily manifested spirit shield. He kissed Hawke messily, violently, a litany of curses interspersed with moans of Garrett and love slipping from his lips, and—though this really didn't matter to Hawke that much in the moment—his magic rapidly slipping from what little was left of Anders' control.
The flames in the fireplace crackled like thunder, yet went barely noticed amid the sounds of their moans, and Hawke would say something, really, if his lips deigned to mouth anything other than fuck, and please, and Anders, love, more. He would worry, had he the presence of mind to, when the fire grew entirely too big for the fireplace, creeping out of the stone of the frame and onto the walls, dangerously close to the curtained windows. That did seem to be cause enough for concern... but then Anders pushed his mana outward to twine with Hawke's—and he was lost.
Suddenly, it was as though they could both feel the other's sensation laced with their own.
The deepest connection.
The perfect harmony.
A new kind of staggering pleasure building, rushing through one mana pool to another and spiraling into a loop that left them perpetually wrought with sensation. The feeling of being fucked open and feeling tight, velvet heat around his cock, in turn, until Hawke had trouble telling their sensations apart. He would wonder, later when he'd be capable of coherent thought, if this was what it felt like for Anders to be merged with Justice because for one perfect moment, it felt like he and Anders were as close as two beings could be.
The next moment, the curtains were aflame, and Hawke was almost too far gone to care. Anders' thrusts became shallow, uneven, and it wasn't long before he spilled deep inside him, his orgasm resonating through Hawke’s mind and body, flinging him right over the edge with him. Hawke squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught, groaning loud and wanton as thick ropes of come streaked his stomach, both their chests, shuddering pangs of white-hot pleasure overwhelming him completely. So much so that it was all Hawke could do to shoot a blast of ice shards in the general direction of the curtains, counting on his mana not to let him down.
Too distracting was the feeling of Anders filling him, claiming him, teeth and nails digging into Hawke's skin almost hard enough to draw blood as he rode out his release, trickles of his come leaking from Hawke's ass. It was intoxicating, the feel of kiss-swollen lips against his. So right, so perfect, the hum of Anders’ moans against his mouth, and Hawke so sorely wished they never had to part, even when breath ran short and he started feeling dizzy, even when the tide of magic subsided to the usual faint thrum beneath their skin and they were left panting, exhausted, just a touch shy of too weak to keep themselves upright.
Hawke stared. Shamelessly, because they were both of them far past the point of shame. Anders' breathed shakily, reddened lips parted and eyes half-lidded, his skin tinged pink, sweat gleaming in the dim moonlight that was left in the absence of the fireplace's glow. He looked a marvel, beautiful as the often salacious paintings of the Orlesian Renaissance, and Hawke couldn't help but wish to capture this moment and embed it on an everlasting canvas, along with many more moments such as this to come.
Hawke flushed despite himself when Anders lifted his eyes to gaze at him in much the same way. His smile was a gift, one that Hawke returned, and Anders claimed it with a feather-soft kiss.
"That was certainly... intense," Anders summarized, gently letting him to the floor.
"Fuck, yeah," Hawke agreed. "Hot as fuck, love."
A breathless huff of laughter. "Fire mage, remember?"
Hawke blinked through the haze, struggling to focus on anything other than Anders lazy grin, and pretty as it was, his eyes were drawn on the absolute fucking mess his chambers had become in the meantime.
In hindsight, shooting ice blasts blindly may not have been the best idea. Neither was, probably, his tendency to skip quite so many of his father's tedious lessons on magical control.
"Speaking of," Hawke said cheerfully, “d'you know you set the curtains on fire?”
“Did I?” Anders said, completely unbothered as he carded his fingers through the hair plastered to Hawke's sweat-drenched forehead. “I mean, it feels hot in here but not that hot."
"I doused it." Hawke bit his lip. "May have overdone it a tad."
Anders flinched. “Do I want to look?”
“Probably not. But we should probably move back to the armchair." Hawke drew his eyes away. "Bed's trashed."
Anders did chance a glimpse at the ruin that used to be a perfectly serviceable bed. Two of its posts lay completely unhinged, piled in the center in a heap of bits of the bed's ceiling and torn cloth; one was still standing but was slashed almost completely in half in the middle, with ice still clinging to the fissure.
"What in the ever-loving Void did you do?"
"I, uh... misjudged an angle."
"Just the one, love?" Anders laughed.
Hawke shrugged, smiling sheepishly, and it wasn’t long until they both devolved into fits of giggles, and though Anders shook his head at the mess, what ash and singed cloth were left of the curtains were evidence of his own carelessness, so he had hardly any room to judge.
They disentangled with some reluctance and made their way to cuddle in the armchair, one of the only things they managed to leave intact. Faint bursts of mana called upon wisps, drawing them from the Fade, coaxing multicolored sparks to weave into makeshift constellations to match the night sky outside.
Anders rested atop him, head pillowed on Hawke's chest as he huddled into his embrace. One hand was resting at Hawke's side while the other played languidly with his hair. It felt nice. Nice enough that Hawke couldn't help nuzzling into the touch just like those little feline balls of evil Anders adored so much—but Anders looking up at him now with just as much adoration made up for any embarrassment at the reaction.
They relished the minutes of calm, a cozy silence enveloping them along with the pleasantly cool breeze drifting from the window. Knowing them (and Anders' truly remarkable stamina), and what with the day of rest Hawke had talked Anders into taking tomorrow, it wouldn’t be long before their next round. They still had yet to get to the experiments with lyrium after all, a somewhat risky yet positively thrilling addition to their games. An idea borne from a secret Anders had tentatively shared with Hawke, about how Justice's presence made him so much more sensitive to the substance, made him long for it, for the sizzling hum of it he could now hear as the alluring song that it was—and, well, there wouldn't probably be too much harm in trying, they'd agreed.
"Ugh," Anders said once a sudden strong gush of wind brought the top half of the third bedpost crashing down at last. "I just realized we're going to have to clean all of this up at some point."
Hawke muffled a chuckle against his hair. "Yeah. Sometime before morning, too." Anders groaned. "Neither of us is that much of an ass to leave this to Bodahn and Orana to take care of all by themselves."
"That would be unfair, yes," Anders conceded in the most dejected manner possible.
"Most unjust," Hawke agreed. "And listen. Most of all, we wouldn't want to upset Justice, would we? Not after he and I have finally managed to strike up a friendship."
"I believe his exact words were 'unavoidable companionship,' love."
"That probably means 'the best of friends' in spirit speak," Hawke declared, "or something."
"Or something."
"We're getting there, all right? So, no getting on his bad side."
Anders rolled his eyes. "I'm sure he would appreciate your sense of responsibility."
"He 'would'?" Hawke raised an eyebrow. "As in, he doesn't at this very moment?"
"Well." Anders struggled and failed to hold back a smile. "He's a bit—distracted."
"Justice?" Hawke blinked. "I must have misheard. Our Justice, distracted?"
"Quite intrigued, really. By the, uh... intensity of our... activities."
"Oh! Taking an interest in sex, is he?"
"A purely educational one."
"That's what he says." Hawke smirked. "And look, Anders, in that case, I believe it is our solemn duty to provide Justice with more examples of the filth—I mean, intense activities—we're capable of."
"Mm." Anders shifted on his lap, grinding his hardening length against Hawke's, making him buck into the delicious friction. "You think?"
"Uh-huh." Hawke rolled his hips languidly, heat gathering fast in his groin, eyes fixated on Anders' tongue as it flicked out to wet his lips. "For purely educational purposes, of course."
"Of course," Anders purred. "Well, I'm not complaining—and neither is he."
A heavy pressure curled around Hawke's wrists, pulling his hands from where they were pawing at Anders' chest to the armrests where they ended up promptly chained by the unyielding grip of Anders' magic.
"Anders," Hawke sighed as Anders straddled him, pinned him with his weight, magic, and gaze.
"I think I'd like to ride you now, Garrett. Use your cock to pleasure myself until I'm completely satisfied and you're utterly spent." Anders' gaze roamed over Hawke hungrily, wicked eyes and wicked smile. "Think you can handle that, love?”
Hawke shuddered in anticipation, breath stolen away by the rush of raw need through his body, and gasped out the single answer he knew was never going to change, no matter the pleasure Anders would ever ask of him—
"Yes."