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Fenris knew relatively little about his markings, but he was aware that they did more than allow him to glow blue and magically fist people. He should not, for example, be able to throw a greatsword around like a matchstick, especially when said greatsword weighed more than he did. While he could only assume that he'd been trained as a warrior pre-Danarius, he suspected that his finesse in battle was largely owed to the lyrium in his skin.
Now Hawke, on the other hand...
Garrett Hawke was also a warrior, and also favoured heavy weapons – plus heavy armour, heavy leathers, heavy everything. To the extent that the floorboards in the Hanged Man creaked dangerously as he walked over them, and if he jumped up and down he could probably simulate a small earthquake. The reason Hawke could wear all that weight and still run, climb and swing a claymore around was because he was huge. Almost seven feet tall, at least two humans wide – built, as Varric would say, like a brick shithouse. Fenris had seen busy crowds part like water for him, seen people stop and stare or cower while shadier types hastily excused themselves, under the impression that Hawke was a debt collector or likewise. Not that he could blame them, since Hawke was particularly intimidating when suited up in armour. Coupled with an ominous helmet obscuring his face and a sword capable of cleaving a man in two strapped to his back, he looked downright terrifying.
Well. Terrifying if you didn't know him. It was difficult to be scared of someone if you knew they enjoyed gardening and eating blackberry jam, called their dog Wiggums, and had a soft spot for elves.
…Which brought Fenris to his dilemma. Hawke liked him. He knew Hawke liked him, because last night, one bottle of wine too many had led to alcohol-infused kissing with some petting on the side. Which had been all fine and dandy up until the point where he'd slid his hands down the other man's breeches and-
-Hastily withdrew and excused himself on the basis that they should continue another, less tipsy time. Although truthfully, he couldn't imagine ever being cold sober for that. You'd need all the liquid courage you could get your hands on.
Andraste, he hadn't even been fully erect.
It was his own fault, really. Maybe because he'd never been intimate before – as far as he could remember, anyway – but it just hadn't occurred to him that, what with Garrett being so big, down below he would be... well, big. He'd automatically assumed that it would be average size, but then what most men considered average would have looked ridiculously out of proportion on someone like Hawke. Come to think of it, Hawke was average for a man of his build. But no matter how you looked at it, the problem remained: he was too much. And Fenris, being of a small and slender frame even by elven standards, was simply not equipped to deal with him.
He wondered how he would break this news to the man himself. He liked and respected Hawke, found him attractive, wanted to be with him – but it was selfish to keep Garrett to himself yet refuse to bed him. Doing so would only cause frustration and unhappiness, possibly driving Hawke into places like the Blooming Rose to seek his fulfilment. If an angry breakup would prevent long term misery for them both, it was the better option.
A sigh as he downed the last of his wine – still considerably too sober for his liking – and left his dusty old mansion behind, heading down the sunset streets of Hightown. Bodahn let him in, and he loitered anxiously in the lounge while the dwarf hurried off to find Hawke. A fire burned bright in the hearth, but the room still felt cold.
“Fenris?”
Garrett was in that dark red smoking jacket he so favoured, the swathe of material vast enough to be someone else's blanket. He briefly mused on how anyone that size could manage to look so trim, but firmly pushed the thought away. No distractions. “Hawke.”
“What's the matter? You look... troubled,” the warrior said, stepping further into the room, “Is this about last night? I drank a bit too much, so I don't really remember why you left so quickly. If I said or did anything to offend you, I didn't mean-”
“No,” he held a hand up before any rambling started, “That's not – it's not that, I just-” he bit his lower lip, “I think we should maybe... maybe see other people.”
“What?” Hawke looked horrified, “Maker, I did say something, didn't I? I'm sorry, whatever it was, you know what I'm like when I'm drunk-”
“You didn't say anything, Hawke.”
“Then what did I do? There must be something,” he insisted, “At least tell me what it is, even if you won't let me amend it.”
“I'd rather not-” curse that kicked puppy look. It shouldn't have been possible on someone who defied every definition of the word 'cute'. He'd intended to escape without having to give his frankly embarrassing reasons, but there was no way out of it now. “Last night we got to kissing and – and touching and then I came to certain realisations. About you.” Avoiding eye contact, he admitted: “You're... larger than I expected. Much larger.”
Garrett stared at him incredulously. “You're breaking up with me because my dick is too big?”
“This is a serious matter, Hawke!” he snapped, fuelled by anger and a certain degree of shame. “I am hardly fragile, but even so. If you use that thing on me you'll end up tearing me in two.”
“But with the right preparation-”
“I seriously doubt anything could prepare me for that.” It wasn't fair, he knew, to speak of a part of Hawke's body with such disdain, and the man's answering flinch almost made him apologise on the spot. The thought of Hawke's lower extremities didn't repulse him, it just made him inwardly wince. “Whatever you do, I won't be able to sit down for a week.”
“We could do other things... you can be on top, I don't mind,” Garrett suggested in a smaller voice. Severely kicked puppy. “You don't even have to touch it if you don't want.”
He swallowed guilty, “No, this is – this is why you should see someone else. Someone who will appreciate what you have to offer instead of making you feel bad,” he told him, “I don't wish to demean you. I know you didn't choose your shape.”
“Then stay with me. We can find other ways-”
“No, you're missing the point,” he gritted his teeth, aggravated, “Hawke, I am physically incapable of satisfying you. You deserve better than that, someone who can give you what you want.”
Hawke was silent for a moment. Then, in barely above a whisper, he said: “But I want you.”
Funny, you never expected a kicked puppy to be able to twist a knife into your heart.
“I'd never hurt you, not intentionally,” Garrett continued before he could protest, “And I'd never force you into anything you didn't want to do. But we can still take pleasure in each other without any pain.” He realised Hawke was moving closer, albeit slowly enough that Fenris could easily back away. He didn't. “Let me prove it to you?”
Ever the diplomat. For a man with a body built for war, Hawke was remarkably adept at arranging peace. Fenris allowed him to approach, knowing he should step back, run, but he couldn't. Like a fool he tipped his head upwards, allowing Hawke to bow down slightly so that they could kiss. It was slow and luxuriant, just as it had been last night, and if he concentrated Fenris could still catch a hint of the wine they'd drunk, mingled in with the ever-present taste of blackberries. Spurred by his reaction, Hawke pressed in closer, slipping one arm around the elf's narrow shoulders. It would have taken virtually no effort at all to simply scoop Fenris up and carry him off.
Which abruptly reminded him of the very reason he shouldn't be kissing Garrett. He pulled away. “Hawke, I can't-”
“That wasn't the kiss of someone who wants to end it,” Hawke murmured, “Tell me honestly: are you afraid I'll hurt you? Or are you afraid I'll tire of you and throw you away?”
Fenris flinched.
“Aha. You think I'll get bored of your limitations and swap you for someone else. You're dumping me so I can't do it to you first.”
“No – I mean – that is-” he clenched his teeth before he could fumble any more words. “I'm trying to spare us both any undue misery. I'll step aside and you can have someone who can actually please you,” he shook his head, “I'm sorry, I just – I don't have the build for it.”
The warrior coughed and glanced away, “I'd have said you have exactly the right build for it, actually.”
A frown; “What was that?”
“I don't consider your frame a limitation,” Hawke explained, growing more sheepish by the second, “More like the opposite. It's, er, kind of a turn-on.”
“Are you telling me you have an elf fetish?” he narrowed his eyes, “Is that why you help out at the alienage so much?”
“What? No!” Garrett protested, stricken, “Maker's breath, I'm not interested in any of them, not in that way. I don't have an elf fetish, I have a you fetish.”
Flattering, but Fenris didn't buy it. “Explain.”
“Well, you're nice and slender. And you look so delicate-” Fenris scowled, and Hawke hastily amended, “I said you look delicate, not you are delicate. Maker knows you could thrash me in under a minute if you wanted.” His smiled softly, “That's what I like about you. I know you're stronger than you look, so I don't have to worry about accidentally crushing you or whatever. You're... unexpected, and that impresses me,” his tone shifted from fond to mischievous, “As well as does other things to me that shouldn't be discussed in polite company.”
“Good thing I'm not polite, then,” Fenris answered with a smirk, his suspicions about Hawke and elves put to rest, “So the fact that I'm too small...?”
“It turns my crank,” Garrett admitted, “Sharpens my sword. Greys my Warden.”
“You've been spending too much time around Isabella.”
“She's a terrible influence,” he agreed with a sigh, “Did you know, she's already written a book about our bedroom exploits?”
Fenris raised an eyebrow, amused, “But we haven't done anything yet.”
“No,” The man wetted his lips, just briefly, but Fenris found himself tracking the motion, the little glimpse of tongue, “But... we could, if you'd like.”
He froze, “What, now? Here?”
“I was thinking upstairs in my room, actually. Wouldn't want anyone walking in on us.” Noticing Fenris' tension, Garrett assured him: “We'll only go as far as you wish, no sense in rushing things. We could just continue our actions from last night.”
“I thought you couldn't remember?”
That earned him a coy smile; “Only vaguely. Perhaps you'd care to remind me...?”
He hesitated. On the one hand, it was a sorely tempting offer... on the other, remembering Hawke's endowment put a great deal of emphasis on the sorely. But Hawke had a promised that there would be no expectations or obligations, no pain, and Fenris trusted that.
By the time he came to his decision, the lusty glimmer in Hawke's eyes had ebbed away, and his hold around Fenris' shoulders had loosened in full expectation of him backing away, calling it off. He made a surprised but pleased noise as one slim arm hooked around the back of his neck, drawing him closer for a second kiss.
When they drew apart, Fenris said breathlessly: “Lead the way.”
Kissing resumed in Garrett's bedroom, unhurried and coaxing. The other man's hands began with chastely resting on his shoulders, then slowly slid down slender arms, eliciting a shudder as they passed over the markings. They wound up at his waist, simply running up and down his sides, and it took him a moment to realise: Hawke was marvelling at him. If he pulled back he could see the awe in his face at how small and seemingly fragile the elf was.
“I'm not made of glass,” he reminded him.
“More like diamond,” Garrett murmured in agreement, “So much stronger than you look.”
He wasn't sure how to answer that – being complimented was still alien to him – so he simply regarded the other man thoughtfully, the way he stooped over to make for their difference in height. “You'll end up with a sore neck,” he commented, one hand slipping down the back of Hawke's collar, careful not to tear the material, and massaging the extruding tip of his spine.
Garrett hummed appreciatively, “Worth it.”
A tut, “Not if I have to hear you complain later. Come here,” he grasped Hawke's hand. That was to say, he grasped two of Hawke's fingers, as much as he could comfortably hold, his own hands miniature in comparison. That brought more wonderment from Garrett as he was tugged over to the bed and made to sit.
Fenris climbed on top of him, albeit with more difficulty than originally anticipated; if he spread his legs far enough he could just place them either side of Hawke's vast, muscular thighs. But it felt a little less imposing with the giant beneath him, who now had to crane his neck upwards for a kiss. He was already aching from the intensity, and a low hiss emerged when Garrett's hands finally drifted down, rubbing him through the thin material of his leggings. It felt so good, and he wanted to return the favour, loosening the laces on Hawke's breeches and-
“Hold on,” Garrett caught Fenris' wrists easily, preventing any further action, “Maybe we should work up to that. Also, gauntlets,” he tapped the metal claws pointedly.
Too breathless for words, Fenris simply nodded and unbuckled his armoured gloves, setting them to one side. As an afterthought he removed his chest-plate as well. Remembering the last time he'd slipped a hand between Hawke's legs cooled his ardour somewhat, so he sensibly opted to explore the wide planes of his chest instead
Untying the smoking jacket revealed a simple white undershirt beneath, the row of buttons minuscule against the sheer amount of fabric. He undid them one by one, wondering how Garrett managed to dress himself each morning without his fingers fumbling uselessly – but then, he already knew just how deft those hands could be. They currently played along his inner thighs, so close to the hardness barely concealed by Fenris' clothing but never quite touching it, allowing the Tevinter to set the pace.
He pushed the layers back from Hawke's body, and found his mouth suddenly dry. There had to be a misplaced qunari somewhere in the family line; his shoulders were impossibly, inhumanly broad, enough so to sit Fenris – hell, even Aveline – comfortably either side. Huge, sturdy collarbones pointed down to his chest, which was carpeted with thick, dark hair. That, at least, was a human trait; you didn't see extra hair on a qunari, not that it was needed with Seheron's climate. He'd never formed an opinion on the matter, but following the trail down Hawke's chest, his stomach, to where it disappeared below the waistband of his breeches... his fingers itched to follow it, even knowing where it led.
“You approve, I take it?” Hawke asked, just a hint of preening in his tone. He rolled his shoulders, a tidal motion, and pulled the remainder of his arms out of the jacket. Thickly muscled, with the same dark hair along his forearms.
“...Yes,” was all Fenris could manage.
It was daunting, facing someone who practically defined masculinity, and when Hawke peeled the shirt off him Fenris felt almost female by comparison. He wasn't exactly lacking in musculature himself, but it was nothing like the man before him – rather, he was lean and compact, without a scrap of spare flesh. And yet Garrett looked at him with just as much, if not more reverence, sending a warmth through him that wasn't entirely based on lust. Daunting, yes, but thrilling as well, to be desired by one so powerful.
“What do you want to do?” Hawke asked quietly, fingers ghosting over Fenris' cloth-covered erection, “Stop here or continue?”
“It's a little unfair of you to ask while you're doing – that.”
A low chuckle, the rumble in that enormous chest felt as much as it was heard. “I wouldn't leave you like this. I meant, I can take care of myself afterwards if you're still... nervous.”
He didn't doubt that if he demanded it, Hawke would deny himself any pleasure. But Fenris cared too much for him to use him callously; he would return whatever attentions he was given. “There's no need for that.”
“You're sure? There's no obligation, Fenris. I won't think less of you for stepping back.”
“No, I-” his voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, “I want to touch you.”
Hawke paused, then obediently leaned back onto his elbows; “I'm all yours, then.”
Running his hands through the almost-fur on Hawke's chest, Fenris trailed his fingers down, following the winding path until he could hook them onto the edge of those breeches. Shifting back a little to make room, he slowly drew Garrett out.
There was blindly groping it while half-drunk, and then there was seeing it, feeling it. Huge and heavy, with a thick vein running along the underside that pulsed like a second heart. Not yet fully erect – it would take a fair bit of stimulation with something that size – but slowly hardening in his hands as he gingerly explored. He was anxious, yes; discovering your partner exceeded certain expectations was generally considered a good thing, but when they were this big it was more a cause for worry than anything else. Yet Fenris couldn't deny the little shiver of anticipation, wondering how much bigger it could possibly get, and what would happen when Hawke came.
He rolled the foreskin back, admiring the glistening, reddening head, and ran one finger along the throbbing vein. It occurred to him how tiny and dainty his hand looked, unable to wrap entirely around Hawke's girth. If he glanced up, he saw that the man was focused on exactly the same thing, eyes darkened with lust. His breathing grew heavier as Fenris started using both hands, making the size difference all the more apparent. He might have been passion flushed, were all the blood not needed elsewhere.
In unison, his hands stroked from base to tip, thumbs swiping over the slit, rinse and repeat until Hawke was at last fully hard. A single, clear bead of pre-come had formed, threatening to spill at any moment, and Fenris had an idea. He was hardly adventurous, inexperienced as he was, but between Isabella and Varric's stories he had an idea of what foreplay should include.
“May I... taste you?”
Garrett stared at him, then gave an incredulous laugh. “Well I'm hardly going to say no. Although,” he added, “Take off those leggings first. You're overdressed.”
He stood back, intending to just shuck them off, but the hungry gaze upon him made him slow his actions, putting on a tantalising strip tease. When Hawke had kicked off his own trousers, leaving them both fully naked, Fenris nudged the man's legs apart then descended gracefully to his knees. The anticipation obviously affected Hawke; the drop of pre-come broke at last, cascading down his hard length. Fenris caught it with his tongue, lapping upwards and bringing forth a low, guttural groan. The taste was salty, perhaps even a little bitter, but not wholly unpleasant.
He licked and suckled along the rigid sides while one hand cupped Hawke's balls, warm and weighty with unspent come. The other hand drifted deftly over the stretch of skin between sac and shaft, occasionally sliding upwards to assist Fenris' lips. Garrett was making his enjoyment well-known with sighs, murmured nothings and the slight thrusting of his hips, but there was only so much pleasure to be had by tongue alone. He wasn't sure if his mouth could accommodate Hawke's cock, but it was worth a try.
“Fenris-” the name dissolved into a keening moan as the elf kissed the tip, swiping up the now freely leaking pre-come, then opened his mouth wider to encompass the head.
It was admittedly more difficult than he'd first thought. There was no way he could have the whole length, even a complete lack of gag reflex wouldn't have helped him there. It fitted the entirety of his mouth, forcing his jaws so far apart that they ached – but he pressed on, breathing steadily through his nose, taking as much as he could. He was aware that there were tears in his eyes and excess saliva was running down his chin, but it didn't matter because it felt incredible. He wondered if he could get Hawke to come like this, the ribbons of semen pouring straight down his throat, how much of it he would be able to swallow. The thought made him groan, the sound travelling straight into Hawke's skin, and the cock twitched warningly in response.
“-Whoa, whoa, that's enough,” suddenly there were hands on his shoulders pushing him back, and a panting Hawke was looking down at him, “You keep that up and you'll have me finishing early.”
Fenris wiped the wetness on his chin away with the back of his hand, “That was the intention.”
“Yes, but I'm likely to pass out afterwards,” Garrett pointed out, “Let's take care of you first. I haven't even properly touched you yet.”
He hadn't, and yet Fenris was painfully hard, the tip weeping as much as Hawke's had. He allowed himself to be guided back onto the bed, first seated in Garrett's lap and then, when he wouldn't stop toying with the other man's flesh, onto Garrett's stomach where there would be less distraction.
“I'm glad you find me so irresistible, but it can wait until later,” Garrett told him, closing one large hand around Fenris' entire length. He might've felt inadequate at how small he was compared to the human, but he knew they were both simply in proportion to their respective builds. Besides, being completely enclosed in the warmth of Hawke's palm felt... pleasant, to say the least.
Hawke instructed him to raise his hips, allowing a second hand to slip beneath him and cup his sac – again a warm enveloping sensation, and his fingers were so long that they reached all the way back to Fenris' ass, brushing against his entrance. An accidental slip, but it gave him pause; Garrett noticed and cleared his throat. “Would you like me to use my fingers on you?”
He wriggled curiously against the digits. He hadn't given it much thought, but... he could fit one finger in there, at least. Tingling at the notion, he nodded.
To his disappointment, Hawke withdrew his hand. “I need to find some slick first,” he explained when shot a confused look, “There's some sword oil around here somewhere, that should do the trick.”
He scooted back, allowing Hawke to sit up and rummage through the bedside drawers, and ended up pressed against the other man's still-present erection. Tilting his hips slightly allowed it to slide between his buttocks, and he experimentally rubbed up and down the length.
“Here we go, I found it- dear Maker Fenris, what did I tell you about making me come first?”
Fenris ignored him, still grinding thoughtfully, “Do you think we could make it fit?” he asked.
“What... inside?” Garrett blinked wildly, “I don't mind if it can't. There's no need to push yourself.”
He could feel the flesh against him, the length, the girth. Somewhere along the line all his anxiety had been replaced by sheer desire, because all he could focus on was how it would feel inside him. “But you said earlier that it would, with enough preparation.”
“I... might have been speaking optimistically,” Hawke confessed, “I mean, maybe with enough time and patience-”
“Do it.”
“Huh?”
“Do your... preparations, whatever they may be,” Fenris commanded, “I want to feel it. To feel you. Just tell me what must be done.”
“Are you su-”
“Yes,” he gritted his teeth, “I know you want it as much as I do. Hurry up already.”
“Yes ser,” Hawke breathed, opening the jar of oil and wetting his hand, “I need to... stretch you a bit first. Get you used to the sensation.”
Fenris moved closer, weight distributed on his knees and Hawke's chest as he leaned against the other warrior. Even his fingers were muscular, strengthened by his years of swordsmanship and the labour he'd done back in Lothering. The first intrusion into Fenris felt... odd, but not as painful as he had expected, thanks to the lubricant.
Garrett pumped the finger slowly in and out until Fenris growled at him for more. Perhaps he should have been more patient, because after a second finger was added, the pain quickly superseded the pleasure; he gritted his teeth and curled his hands in Hawke's chest hair as a distraction until his body adjusted. It was, he wagered, about the average size of the average man's cock, and he knew Hawke was much, much bigger than that.
Three fingers and it burned, a whine escaping him before he could suppress it. The markings, remember the markings. He'd endured much worse pain before but still, it hurt. Hawke's free hand rubbed soothingly along his shoulders, and inside Fenris he curled his fingers slightly, scraping something that sent a jolt of white-hot pleasure through the smaller man.
“What was that?”
Hawke grinned, “Prostate. Feels good, doesn't it? Should help you forget about the pain.”
It did indeed feel very good – a little too good, and as he felt his body tighten in preparation for orgasm, he panted out a harsh order for Hawke to stop. “I don't want to – not yet,” he explained breathlessly, clenching around the base of his cock until the would-be climax passed. “Not until you're inside.”
Hawke's puzzled look melted into a warm smile; it looked silly, doubly so on a man his size, but Fenris couldn't help but secretly revel in it. Straightening his fingers to avoid the prostate, Hawke continued to prepare him cautiously and unhurriedly, though how he found the patience with that erection still present was beyond Fenris' understanding. He wasn't sure how many minutes – hours? – passed, but when he was generously stretched and slick, Hawke was satisfied enough to guide the elf's narrow hips up and over his cock. His skin prickled in anticipation; he could've sworn the markings were humming, every nerve in his body singing-
-Every nerve in his body screaming.
It was like being impaled. Rememberthemarkingsrememberthemarkings... but it was so hard to focus on anything beyond the monster currently splitting him in two. He had expected some pain, but nothing like this, like his insides were on fire. A harsh, hoarse cry tore itself from his throat, and in an instant Garrett had pulled him away, cradling him to his chest and whispering soft apologies. Fenris clung to him, too shocked to do anything else, shaking.
“I knew it,” he rasped. All that preparation and he wasn't even close to being ready – he had the terrible sinking feeling that he never would be. He'd been right all along. “It won't fit. I'm too small.”
“Fenris, it's alright-”
“No it's not,” he wrenched himself out of Hawke's grasp, bristling with anger, “How can I call myself your lover if I can't please you?”
“There are other ways. You almost finished me off earlier with just your mouth, remember?” Hawke soothed him, calm and controlled as always, “And you don't have to be the one receiving, so to speak.”
“But I want to,” Fenris told him, a hint of desperation in his voice, “I want to, but I can't.”
“You can, if you're that dead-set on it,” he was assured, vast arms encompassing his slender waist, “You're just... too tense, that's all. Your body automatically resists what it sees as a, er, threat, so we need to find a way to relax you.”
“But what more can we do? We've already tried...” such careful preparation. Given how thick Hawke's fingers were, Fenris was undoubtedly loosened enough to fit any normal man, just not Hawke himself.
“Well, you could try coming,” Garrett suggested, “Nothing gets rid of tension quite like climax.”
Fenris frowned, disappointed, “But I wanted to wait...”
An apologetic smile, “Sorry Fenris, but I'm not going to risk hurting you. We could always find another way to finish up.”
“No, I – I want to do this.” Resigning himself to coming around Hawke another time, Fenris took himself in hand, intent on seeing to himself quickly and efficiently. But larger hands closed around his own and pulled them away. When he glanced up, Garrett's smile had turned sly; he wasn't sure whether to be intrigued or worried.
“We'd best make it the climax of a lifetime, just to be safe,” he said coyly, “Scoot up a little further... little more... that's it.”
“Hawke,” Fenris began, suspicious. He was in line with Hawke's face, so he had an idea of where this was going, but... the man was laid out beneath him and limited in his movements. He wasn't so much offering to suck Fenris as inviting him to fuck his mouth. “Isn't this... degrading?”
“I'll be the judge of that,” Garrett murmured, hands sliding around to the smooth curve of Fenris' rump, “And I say it's not.”
Fenris was about to say that he thought otherwise. But then Garrett pushed him forward into the waiting warmth of his mouth, and he found he couldn't say anything at all. Or think anything at all, for that matter.
There was no gradual, tentative progression, not like Fenris; earlier attempt. Hawke swallowed him straight to the hilt with little difficulty, nose pressed against the elf's pelvis, and Fenris could do little else but gasp and buck wildly. Lips sealed in a tight ring around the base, Garrett slowly drew himself back along the shaft, then proceeded to guide Fenris in and out, in and out. Despite his initial misgivings, Fenris found himself thrusting in time, and continued of his own accord when Hawke's hands wandered elsewhere.
No-one had ever done anything remotely like this for him before. In Danarius' service he hadn't been permitted to take a lover and the magister himself, despite leering and humiliation, had never touched him, a small mercy. After that had been a life on the run, too tired and stressed and mistrustful to bed anyone. On the one hand he wished he had been able to try this sooner – but then again, he was glad that Hawke was the first to teach him. It seemed... more special, more sacred.
As sacred as fucking someone's face could be, anyway. But if Hawke didn't see it as sinful or shameful, neither did he.
Garrett moaned around his flesh, glancing upwards to meet his eyes; that, he felt, was what drove him over the edge. He pulled back – although he'd entertained certain fantasies earlier, it seemed discourteous to come in Hawke's mouth – but a vice-grip on his hips held him in place. He could do little more but wriggle futilely and gasp Garrett's name as orgasm crashed over him. His skin hummed, markings flickering blue, illuminating Hawke as his throat bobbed, swallowing, drinking. Excess escaped the corners of his mouth, leaking onto his beard before his fingers swiped it away.
Even after he'd spent himself that mouth still worked around him, drawing back to seal around the tip as he sucked up the last of it. He let out a low whine of complaint, sensitive as his flesh now was, but he lacked the energy to push Hawke away. Amused but merciful, Hawke relented and guided him back down, allowing Fenris to sprawl bonelessly over his larger form.
He wasn't the type of man to indulge in afterglow, but Hawke's chest was so warm and comfortable, moreso with the fuzz of his body hair tickling the elf's cheek. It rose and fell rhythmically, taking Fenris along with it; he could hear the steady thud of Garrett's heart and wondered how big it must be, to match a body that size.
“Well, you're good and relaxed now,” his voice was even deeper when you had an ear pressed to his lungs. “You want to give it another go or stay like this?”
He was strongly tempted to opt for the latter. His body was sated, still tingling, and any more pleasure now sounded more painful than anything else. But he could feel Hawke's hardness pressed against his thigh and reminded himself that firstly, Garrett also deserved his release and secondly, said hardness might actually fit this time. It was a struggle, but he managed to push himself away from Hawke's torso and the lure of sleep.
“I'll take that as a yes.” Fenris could only nod, too exhausted to form words. With some help he shuffled back on his knees, aligning himself before pressing against the head of Hawke's cock.
Needless to say, it snapped him out of his post-climax doze. It still hurt, but nowhere near as much as before, and his body offered considerably less resistance. The burn wavered between pain and pleasure as he was opened up wider, wider... and just when he thought there was no possible way he could stretch any further, he bypassed the thickest of the girth, the rest of the head abruptly sliding into place. There was a collective sigh as both men realised they had been holding their breath.
“That's it,” Garrett spoke, hushed, “That's the worst of it over. It doesn't hurt too much?”
There was a sting but it was quickly fading, so Fenris shook his head. Hands braced on Hawke's abdomen, he began slowly, slowly sinking down. The feeling was indescribable: Hawke was inside him, stretching and filling him beyond any capacity. There wasn't a scrap of unused space, his inner walls clinging tightly to the huge cock, making its owner writhe and pant beneath him. Finally, beyond both his and Garrett's expectations, he took the entire length, feeling the warmth of the man's balls pressed against his ass. Just as well, since any more and Fenris was likely to damage something internal. He was still surprised he wasn't bleeding, but then Hawke had depleted his entire supply of sword-oil.
“Maker, that feels amazing,” Garrett croaked, visibly slick with sweat and breathing heavily. “You're so – tight. I never imagined it would be this good.”
“So you did want it, for all your reassurance otherwise.”
“Well, alright, yes. But I never thought it would actually happen,” Garrett confessed, “Not without seriously hurting you, and I'd never do that.”
Fenris ducked his head, hiding behind his trusty shield of white hair. “I know you wouldn't,” he mumbled. Sex was foreign to him, but more so was affection, having someone genuinely care, and he was still never certain on what to say in response.
Better to show, instead. He pulled himself back up as high as he could go, feeling that rigid flesh slide against his insides until he was back at the tip. And then he descended again, pleased at the rumbling groan he got. Now he could call himself Garrett's lover, confident that no-one could satisfy the warrior as he did. And perhaps one day, he would be inside Hawke. Asserting dominance over that huge, muscle-bound form held plenty of appeal... but that would have to wait until another time, when he was more familiar with the act, less likely to make a fool of himself. For now it was enough to revel in Hawke's ecstasy, knowing he was the one responsible. To see him gasp for air like a drowning man, hair suitably damp from perspiration, muscles straining at the tension, and think: mine.
He drove himself up and down, feeling Hawke gradually tighten beneath him. And himself, to his surprise; his flesh was still sensitive and frankly sore, but Hawke was hitting against his – what was it called again? – prostate with every thrust, stirring his blood to move south once more. He wasn't even sure if he could manage another orgasm but judging from his growing hardness, his body was willing to give it a go.
It almost hurt, but with Hawke slamming repeatedly against that sweet spot, he managed to milk one more climax from his already-spent flesh with a ragged moan. He watched the semen splatter across that broad, haired chest, painting the skin – mine, he is mine – and as he clenched uncontrollably around the cock inside him, heard Hawke's savage finishing cry before he came.
And came.
And came.
Perhaps it was a normal amount, for a man with a enormous cock and balls to match. But by normal standards it was a torrential gush of hot, thick substance that filled Fenris up to the brim, until he swore it would start leaking from his nose at any given moment. Garrett trembled in the aftershocks of orgasm, the last offerings of his body spurting out erratically until finally, there was nothing more to give. He softened and shrunk, murmuring Fenris' name quietly before his breathing evened out, slow and heavy.
Passed out. Well, Hawke had warned him. After that kind of climax, Fenris wasn't particularly surprised. He lifted himself away from Hawke, grimacing when the cock slipped out of him and come flowed freely from his stretched passage, trickling down his thighs. That, and the fact that he wouldn't be able to sit down properly for a while, was something he really should've taken into consideration before riding a giant of a man... but then again, it had been worth it.
He could worry about such problems later. For now he lay himself next to his behemoth lover, curled in the crook of his arm; Hawke automatically pulled him in a little closer, perhaps an unconscious gesture, perhaps not. Fenris offered no objections, warm and comfortable and satisfied in a way he'd never experienced before, both physically and mentally. Following the example of the warrior beside him, he slept.