(no subject)
Bored. Oh, bloody hell. Have some samples of my RP with Fenders because I'm quite hard-up for this pairing right now, even though it is quite popular in AO3. (It has a decent bunch of writers who... are good at writing and are stylistically pleasing enough, but I prefer my own depiction of Anders. Though my writing is... not good.)
I won't be posting the other partners' response because it isn't mine to post, and certainly not the whole thing. (I made some mistakes. Luckily the partner just rolled along with it. Also, I love how flexible the mage is, in bed at least.)
Things that I found were interesting to try and portray:
- Justice inhabiting Anders' head
- Anders' sense of insecurity (and his tendency to attribute everything to "it's because I'm a mage!")
- Anders' unapologetic attitude towards the fact that he was born a mage.
- Anders' age and hardened experiences from being a fugitive.
- A subtle inability to trust (and a desire for affection - by Kirkwall, Anders seems to have sworn off sex-without-emotions, so I try to keep it this way; and yes I feel you Anders)
- Justice's lyrium addiction (IT SINGS! MY!)
- The extent to which Justice and Anders could share the same headspace (this was hard)
- a sense of playfulness (which Anders has in Mark of the Assassin and whatnot); playful tolerance especially towards Fenris (though in a rivalry sort of sense)
- the degree to which Anders submerged himself in the Mage's resistance, and philantropy.
Er. NSFW
The blonde's eyes widened as he felt those soft lips against his once more. Then he broke out into a huge grin, wrapped his arms around the elf, and gave him a bear hug while simultaneously showering him with careless, sloppy kissses. It was silly, but despite his age, he felt almost young again - young and alive. Fenris wasn't one to mince words, and the way he said things often left one wondering just what his intent was, and... Now he understood. Sort of. Maybe. Or not. He tried not to think about it too much; bickering now would only ruin the mood.
"Ungh," He grunted softly when Fenris' hand cupped his ass again. Teasingly, he let a spark of energy sizzle from his fingers as he brushed it past the elf's nipples, "I got the impression that you'd rather let me work my magic on you. I go either way, you know."
Maker, but the elf was exceedingly gorgeous. The corners of his eyes crinkled up a little as he could not stop smiling like a damned fool. It was an understatement and Fenris deserved much more, but he believed that even though the spirit was sharing his body, he still deserved some privacy and dignity. "Believe me, Justice believes that plenty of things are a waste of time."
Why else would he be so pent up and slavering over the elf? Though, to be able to distract a fade spirit, now that's something else. He could feel Justice losing his mind as he leaned down, taking the head of Fenris' cock into his mouth. Anders looked up again, to see if Fenris was fine with it (he did not want to end up with Fenris' fist-phasing into his brain, among other things), and, as he began to claw at the sheets, his eyes narrowed into an upper crescent from merriment. His skills would be something to gloat about, if nothing else. Or Fenris' sensitivity, for that matter. The taste of sweet cock seemed to arouse him even further - was it the lyrium? He couldn't tell; all he wanted to do was to have a taste of it. He coaxed the elf's member with his tongue, alternatively stroking with one hand (the other was down on his groin, soothing his own aching member, which was undoubtedly demanding release) and taking as much of it into his mouth as was possible. The grease served as a lubricant - even though he was practically drooling at the taste - that allowed him to practically fuck Fenris with his mouth.
He pulled back when the music of lyrium became too much for him to bear, and for a moment he too, glowed blue. But he pulled back from the edge.
"Well, you'll have to tell me what you want me to do, then." He said, smiling like a cheshire cat.
-
"Oh? Such an invitation makes me all a-tingle," Anders teased, patting the hand which was so ardently gripping his hindquarters. He breathed in deeply as the elf nipped his neck - reflecting that he was perhaps a bit of a masochist about such things (after all, he suffered from so many cat-related injuries, did he not?).
The very thought made him bury his face into the elf's chest and flick his tongue across those darkened nipples. Such a heavenly texture was that skin; he took care to play with the unoccupied nipple with his fingertips, alternating between both. He did not stop until those pert little things were puffy from the attention, and he took the opportunity to admire his handiwork with a lover's satisfaction. Maker, the elf was beautiful, and he enjoyed the thought of the elf... enjoying himself under his ministrations. He ignored the mild guilt that began to nag at him from within: about not being good enough for the elf. About his desire to leave kiss-marks on every single part of that olive skin as indisputable claim of ... that body (and by extension, the smug little sod who seemed so quick to judge all mages). About the urge to possess him the way one would claim a lover for themselves...
But Fenris was addictive. And that guilt was merely a very small part of himself, drowned out by the alcohol, the sweetness of Fenris' flesh, and the song of the Lyrium.
He did not utter Fenris' name. Mostly because his mouth was busy doing other things, like kissing and sucking and licking - he wasn't really one to bite. He even forgot about Fenris' hand, which was buried in his hair.
He looked up as Fenris commented on their luminescence. "It's safe. The curtains are drawn."
Relaxing once more, he spread Fenris' legs further apart, cast a grease spell, and began to massage that tight little ass, starting from the cheeks and moving down the crack. As soon as Fenris purred, however, his cock twitched, and he began to lose his self-control-- he slipped his fingers in with urgency, to locate that spot which would make any man moan aloud, and hastily prepared the elf's ass for insertion.
The tip of his cock was pressed against Fenris' pliable entrance. Instinctively, he looked into those depthless green eyes, and slowly entered by pressing downwards with his entire body's weight.
-
Anders inhaled sharply whenever Fenris nipped at him like an impatient kitten. Perhaps it had been too long since he had been with anybody - the physical intimacy gave him some strange feelings, feelings that he'd thirsted for - could only dream of - at night. It was too fast, too much, too... pleasurable. As his body began to be covered with kisses and bites and even scratches, he nuzzled his face into the elf's chest, simply for the sensation of being filled so completely and utterly with one's presence.
"I am on the run after all," a sheepish grin, self-aware that Fenris disapproved of his current status as an apostate. Exhibitionism wasn't really his thing; the thrill was always in not getting caught. "If you want something a little more exciting, Isabela might be able to indulge you."
He let out one final satisfied grunt, as he fitted himself into Fenris. completely incoherent otherwise, as he lifted the elf's hips slowly such that it was easier to hit the spot at the front, although it meant that he wouldn't be able to embrace Fenris as much as he'd like. With a cheeky smile, he applied a tiny bit of warmth spell on his hands and stroked the elf's cock with it. His back seemed to burn from the scratch-marks, but either way, he was enough of a masochist to enjoy it.
Without much ceremony, he began to lean back down at Fenris' behest (and also because the elf puling on his hair didn't leave much room for movement), moved once or twice gently, before finally giving in to the most primal urges to pound into that incredibly hot, tight - yet slick - ass.
"Fenris..." His words began to dissolve into incoherent moans. As if roused from slumber by the lyrium, Justice too stirred, but his body only glowed slightly - it was as if he could touch the Veil itself, without actually being in places where it was weak.
Still in control of himself, he looked down into Fenris' face. From that angle, he could have sworn that he'd never seen a more wondrous sight than this, and it was the first time in many years that his entire existence was subsumed into something other than the Mage's revolution.
His strokes got more furious, and he now clutched at the elf's hips with both hands. "Fenris--!"
-
How odd, that his enemy's smile could fill the his soul with joy as a bleak desert is illuminated by the mirage of an oasis. It was momentary - he knew that once that was over, he would go back to being alone - and he did not care; this was all he wanted. Fenris could handle himself, and they would go their own ways. It would be nothing to regret.
He was lifting the elf's hips with his arms, but rested their bodies both against the mattress, moving with the momentum of its yielding softness, as one would ride the waves on a ship.
"No magic, then?" He whispered hastily, remembering that Fenris hated mages. This only added to his sense of melancholy, but he had no intention of feeling bad about what he was. Instead, he cradled the elf like as if he was a treasure horde, letting him tug at his hair as much as he wanted. He was just a mage, but he wanted to protect even a hardened warrior in his own way - so he simply held onto the elf as he moved, grateful that such a slender body was there to take in all the... pent-up frustration (this was what he permitted himself to think) that had built up over the years.
The contractions of Fenris' muscles brought him to orgasm, too; that inpeccably tight ass seemed to beckon for his seed. His body happily obliged. The soft, hypnotic hymn that seemed to hum between the two of them faded into a murmur when he was done. Pale skin contrasted with tanned (and glowing markings) as they lay entwined together.
Anders felt his eyes closing, with the elf buried beneath him as if he was shielding him from the world.
A few seconds later, he opened his eyes, and let a surge of rejuvenating effect replenish their strength. He lost the last of his focus again, but at least they could... move. He tried to untangle himself, despite being still warm from the afterglow, but not before planting a kiss on the elf's head. He couldn't think of anything decent to say - perhaps it was the alcohol.
Summary: Alcohol solves everything. Unless you're Oghren.
I won't be posting the other partners' response because it isn't mine to post, and certainly not the whole thing. (I made some mistakes. Luckily the partner just rolled along with it. Also, I love how flexible the mage is, in bed at least.)
Things that I found were interesting to try and portray:
- Justice inhabiting Anders' head
- Anders' sense of insecurity (and his tendency to attribute everything to "it's because I'm a mage!")
- Anders' unapologetic attitude towards the fact that he was born a mage.
- Anders' age and hardened experiences from being a fugitive.
- A subtle inability to trust (and a desire for affection - by Kirkwall, Anders seems to have sworn off sex-without-emotions, so I try to keep it this way; and yes I feel you Anders)
- Justice's lyrium addiction (IT SINGS! MY!)
- The extent to which Justice and Anders could share the same headspace (this was hard)
- a sense of playfulness (which Anders has in Mark of the Assassin and whatnot); playful tolerance especially towards Fenris (though in a rivalry sort of sense)
- the degree to which Anders submerged himself in the Mage's resistance, and philantropy.
Er. NSFW
The blonde's eyes widened as he felt those soft lips against his once more. Then he broke out into a huge grin, wrapped his arms around the elf, and gave him a bear hug while simultaneously showering him with careless, sloppy kissses. It was silly, but despite his age, he felt almost young again - young and alive. Fenris wasn't one to mince words, and the way he said things often left one wondering just what his intent was, and... Now he understood. Sort of. Maybe. Or not. He tried not to think about it too much; bickering now would only ruin the mood.
"Ungh," He grunted softly when Fenris' hand cupped his ass again. Teasingly, he let a spark of energy sizzle from his fingers as he brushed it past the elf's nipples, "I got the impression that you'd rather let me work my magic on you. I go either way, you know."
Maker, but the elf was exceedingly gorgeous. The corners of his eyes crinkled up a little as he could not stop smiling like a damned fool. It was an understatement and Fenris deserved much more, but he believed that even though the spirit was sharing his body, he still deserved some privacy and dignity. "Believe me, Justice believes that plenty of things are a waste of time."
Why else would he be so pent up and slavering over the elf? Though, to be able to distract a fade spirit, now that's something else. He could feel Justice losing his mind as he leaned down, taking the head of Fenris' cock into his mouth. Anders looked up again, to see if Fenris was fine with it (he did not want to end up with Fenris' fist-phasing into his brain, among other things), and, as he began to claw at the sheets, his eyes narrowed into an upper crescent from merriment. His skills would be something to gloat about, if nothing else. Or Fenris' sensitivity, for that matter. The taste of sweet cock seemed to arouse him even further - was it the lyrium? He couldn't tell; all he wanted to do was to have a taste of it. He coaxed the elf's member with his tongue, alternatively stroking with one hand (the other was down on his groin, soothing his own aching member, which was undoubtedly demanding release) and taking as much of it into his mouth as was possible. The grease served as a lubricant - even though he was practically drooling at the taste - that allowed him to practically fuck Fenris with his mouth.
He pulled back when the music of lyrium became too much for him to bear, and for a moment he too, glowed blue. But he pulled back from the edge.
"Well, you'll have to tell me what you want me to do, then." He said, smiling like a cheshire cat.
-
"Oh? Such an invitation makes me all a-tingle," Anders teased, patting the hand which was so ardently gripping his hindquarters. He breathed in deeply as the elf nipped his neck - reflecting that he was perhaps a bit of a masochist about such things (after all, he suffered from so many cat-related injuries, did he not?).
The very thought made him bury his face into the elf's chest and flick his tongue across those darkened nipples. Such a heavenly texture was that skin; he took care to play with the unoccupied nipple with his fingertips, alternating between both. He did not stop until those pert little things were puffy from the attention, and he took the opportunity to admire his handiwork with a lover's satisfaction. Maker, the elf was beautiful, and he enjoyed the thought of the elf... enjoying himself under his ministrations. He ignored the mild guilt that began to nag at him from within: about not being good enough for the elf. About his desire to leave kiss-marks on every single part of that olive skin as indisputable claim of ... that body (and by extension, the smug little sod who seemed so quick to judge all mages). About the urge to possess him the way one would claim a lover for themselves...
But Fenris was addictive. And that guilt was merely a very small part of himself, drowned out by the alcohol, the sweetness of Fenris' flesh, and the song of the Lyrium.
He did not utter Fenris' name. Mostly because his mouth was busy doing other things, like kissing and sucking and licking - he wasn't really one to bite. He even forgot about Fenris' hand, which was buried in his hair.
He looked up as Fenris commented on their luminescence. "It's safe. The curtains are drawn."
Relaxing once more, he spread Fenris' legs further apart, cast a grease spell, and began to massage that tight little ass, starting from the cheeks and moving down the crack. As soon as Fenris purred, however, his cock twitched, and he began to lose his self-control-- he slipped his fingers in with urgency, to locate that spot which would make any man moan aloud, and hastily prepared the elf's ass for insertion.
The tip of his cock was pressed against Fenris' pliable entrance. Instinctively, he looked into those depthless green eyes, and slowly entered by pressing downwards with his entire body's weight.
-
Anders inhaled sharply whenever Fenris nipped at him like an impatient kitten. Perhaps it had been too long since he had been with anybody - the physical intimacy gave him some strange feelings, feelings that he'd thirsted for - could only dream of - at night. It was too fast, too much, too... pleasurable. As his body began to be covered with kisses and bites and even scratches, he nuzzled his face into the elf's chest, simply for the sensation of being filled so completely and utterly with one's presence.
"I am on the run after all," a sheepish grin, self-aware that Fenris disapproved of his current status as an apostate. Exhibitionism wasn't really his thing; the thrill was always in not getting caught. "If you want something a little more exciting, Isabela might be able to indulge you."
He let out one final satisfied grunt, as he fitted himself into Fenris. completely incoherent otherwise, as he lifted the elf's hips slowly such that it was easier to hit the spot at the front, although it meant that he wouldn't be able to embrace Fenris as much as he'd like. With a cheeky smile, he applied a tiny bit of warmth spell on his hands and stroked the elf's cock with it. His back seemed to burn from the scratch-marks, but either way, he was enough of a masochist to enjoy it.
Without much ceremony, he began to lean back down at Fenris' behest (and also because the elf puling on his hair didn't leave much room for movement), moved once or twice gently, before finally giving in to the most primal urges to pound into that incredibly hot, tight - yet slick - ass.
"Fenris..." His words began to dissolve into incoherent moans. As if roused from slumber by the lyrium, Justice too stirred, but his body only glowed slightly - it was as if he could touch the Veil itself, without actually being in places where it was weak.
Still in control of himself, he looked down into Fenris' face. From that angle, he could have sworn that he'd never seen a more wondrous sight than this, and it was the first time in many years that his entire existence was subsumed into something other than the Mage's revolution.
His strokes got more furious, and he now clutched at the elf's hips with both hands. "Fenris--!"
-
How odd, that his enemy's smile could fill the his soul with joy as a bleak desert is illuminated by the mirage of an oasis. It was momentary - he knew that once that was over, he would go back to being alone - and he did not care; this was all he wanted. Fenris could handle himself, and they would go their own ways. It would be nothing to regret.
He was lifting the elf's hips with his arms, but rested their bodies both against the mattress, moving with the momentum of its yielding softness, as one would ride the waves on a ship.
"No magic, then?" He whispered hastily, remembering that Fenris hated mages. This only added to his sense of melancholy, but he had no intention of feeling bad about what he was. Instead, he cradled the elf like as if he was a treasure horde, letting him tug at his hair as much as he wanted. He was just a mage, but he wanted to protect even a hardened warrior in his own way - so he simply held onto the elf as he moved, grateful that such a slender body was there to take in all the... pent-up frustration (this was what he permitted himself to think) that had built up over the years.
The contractions of Fenris' muscles brought him to orgasm, too; that inpeccably tight ass seemed to beckon for his seed. His body happily obliged. The soft, hypnotic hymn that seemed to hum between the two of them faded into a murmur when he was done. Pale skin contrasted with tanned (and glowing markings) as they lay entwined together.
Anders felt his eyes closing, with the elf buried beneath him as if he was shielding him from the world.
A few seconds later, he opened his eyes, and let a surge of rejuvenating effect replenish their strength. He lost the last of his focus again, but at least they could... move. He tried to untangle himself, despite being still warm from the afterglow, but not before planting a kiss on the elf's head. He couldn't think of anything decent to say - perhaps it was the alcohol.
Summary: Alcohol solves everything. Unless you're Oghren.