Hopefully this works.

[challengeaccept]

Fandom: DragonAge: Awakenings/2
Title: I am scared to name this
Pairing: m!Hawke/Anders; mentions of Karl/Anders
Rating: In my mind PG-13 so it's probably NC-17?
Warnings: Based on this prompt:

Most of the time I think of Anders as older than his partner - because yeah, he probably is. But without hard proof of this from Bioware, we can still play on teh meme, yes?

Let's say Anders' escape attempts all happened within a short period, and he was only 17 or 18 in Amaranthine when he was turned into a Warden. And as that's post-blight, Hawke should already be in Kirkwall.

So give me a baby Anders who's a lot younger than Fenris. Give it to me SEXILY.

Age kink - I has it.

(Would also love m!Hawke/Anders with Anders being several years Hawke's junior.)



=+=

The worst thing, the worst thing, about being an abomination was the confinement. The being trapped in my own mind, screaming for control, when Justice decided he needed to do something more than I did. This led to hundreds of nights over the past few years where I'd woken up with my cheek stained with ink after sheer exhaustion had caused him to collapse on still-wet parchment because it kept him from finishing the manifestos we used as an outlet; it led to nights where I was stuck reliving and dreaming of Darkspawn stirring in waves and waves of putrid, horrific mass clawing its way to me while my body was walking and talking, healing sick derelicts and leading mages through sewage and fighting templars. The nights where all I could do was watch while he led me, even in things I wanted to do so badly, were the worst.

Or so I thought.

No, it turned out the worst thing about being an abomination was the being trapped in my own mind while Justice took my body and told Hawke to leave, that I was dangerous to love. But he'd tasted incredible, better than in all my fantasies, and in that place, even in front of the entirety of Darktown, we were as safe as we could be. No-one would judge me, for anything, in Darktown, not where they loved me, relied on me, not where if the worst thing I did was use illegal magic to their aid while having a spot of public sodomy from the most rutting gorgeous man in Kirkwall they'd still rely on me completely. And we had privacy, easily enough, and he'd tasted good and he'd even cocked his eyebrow up in that endearing, sexy, sarcastic way of his and quirked up his lips in that smile and asked if that was all I had.

Oh, no, I had so much more, and I was ready to pounce in ways that would make both of my cats jealous, but Justice had to step in, right then, and keep my body stock-still.

And he started warning him. About him.

It wasn't fair-- Justice was right, to be sure, I did think that with him, I'd never feel this way, but that hadn't stopped me from giving into some gloriously torturous fantasties over the past three years. I am still a man, like I'd told Hawke to start, and I was a very sodding horny man. I wanted to jump up and feel the inside of his teeth against the tip of my tongue while he tore off my only good clothes, and Justice wanted to give Hawke an ultimatum.

Like I wasn't standing there, less than a foot away from the man I'd loved for years, lusted for for longer, unbearably hard and tasting his mouth and feeling the phantom pinpricks of his beard-- And I'd missed beards, so very much, Karl had had such a good one whenever and wherever he'd kissed me-- while Justice sodding Justice controlled my body from panting and leaping at him and told him flat-out that we'd never have a normal life.

Sod a normal life! I wanted a life with Hawke! I wanted to wake up every night thoroughly debauched and head off to adventures while running from templars and shooting fireballs and lightning at every possible opportunity, it's all I ever wanted! Well, aside from justice and equality and all that. And a cat.

When Hawke left, with that look of disappointment that told me he'd been here just to get laid, and that perhaps all I was going to get was a single night of passion with him after all my yearning if he didn't just find someone else to shut in with for the moment, Justice yielded control back to me. I wanted to run after him to take it back, but instead I watched him walk away and yielded myself, to the heavy sigh and shoulder-sagging wave of exhaustion from having tried to fight for my own body again.

"We have to go to him tonight," Justice said out loud, through my voice, as he walked me back to the lamp and lit it. "If he allows us to, you must get this desire out of your system before it taints you from our cause."

I closed my eyes and shuddered, pressing the heels of my palms against my temples. "I can't go to him of all people and only have one night. Maybe three years ago, maybe when it was just lust, but to give me one night alone with him, even you have to agree that's injustice. Andraste's tits, it's unjust enough to even tell me I've only one night while I can still taste him."

"You shouldn't've kissed him."

"I should've kissed him years ago," I argued, pouring sand in and staunching the flame, stirring it carefully to mix all the embers with ash and salt-sand and make certain that it wouldn't possibly flame up on its own accord again. I was in no mood to heal anything but my own painfully throbbing cock, even if the real remedy had just walked away, and I had plans to be very thorough in my ministrations.

But Justice had none of that, not even a quick rub off, and simply willed my body to get over it, which would've been impossible levels of self-control for me with far less inspiration than Hawke. He relit the fire, opening the doors and going back in. "I let you play at having another pet, I let you indulge your fancy for one moment, and I agreed to give you a night with him to abate you," Justice told me, flat and still and just sodding not getting it at all. "If you do not accept this as what it is, I will take tonight from you."

I had to laugh at that, light and airy and so frustrated it wasn't helping to mask. "And leave Hawke standing around his house with aching, swollen balls while the best healer in town can fix that? You need to learn that sometimes the most unrighteous move is to not give in to a bit of other emotion now and then."

I felt him stirring beneath my skin, in the back of my mind, and I trembled outright. "Alright, alright, I accept it-- You're giving me this. It's a gift and I shouldn't complain even if it's going to be far more cruel if you take it from me tomorrow."

"Sarcasm," he said bitterly.

"Right it is," I snapped.

"It would be wrong to not fulfill my promise of our body to Hawke tonight," Justice warned. "He might never trust us again. He might give up on all mages, on any cause we have at all."

"So I'm a contract, am I? Maker's balls, Justice, I'm in love with him! I've been in love with him for two years-- You can't keep telling me it's lust, it's fleeting, you can't keep holding me back from this-- No, no, we're not waiting for tonight. I'm going to him right now, and I am going to show him every single trick I ever picked up in Denerim, in alphabetical order by their names, and then I am going to make some up on the spot--" I was halfway back to the door when I felt myself lurch, spilling on the floor and fallings to my knees, and aside from Justice whispering softly in my head that I should rest up for tonight, that was all I could remember.

=+=

What stirred me aware in the back of my own mind was the slightly angry, impatient tone Hawke had as he accused me of running away. I wanted to tell him, sex was a good part of why I'd run away every time before, but Justice spoke first, and I wanted to laugh then, at how he so casually admitted he wanted to cut this off, that he didn't approve.

But Hawke looked so good, firelight playing shadows over his face, muscles I'd never have despite efforts tucked under finer silks than I'd ever seen much less touched, the smile as he joked about the very being keeping me from already knowing how they felt.

'It's true,' I screamed at Justice. 'It's true, you're part of this, it's true it's true it's true--'

"Please don't call it that," Justice said out loud, and I honestly wasn't certain if it was for Hawke or me. I was certain I should already be touching Hawke, but I couldn't even flex my fingers in frustration as Justice kept us still, looked Hawke right in the eye, and started being poetic, started turning this into yet another reason the templars had wronged me.

Love was a game, I'd grant him that. One I excelled at, although fumbling attempts at sex with other apprentices who'd hated me for causing them grief was a bit harder rules than most of them played with. And I'd been Harrowed young, too, some sort of prodigy they said at fifteen, so there was an extra game in figuring out which apprentices were my age and wanting to sample a full mage, or which of my elders but not too much elder wanted to try some young, rebellious, sensual and virile thing.

Karl with his big, smooth hands had been the first of either to dare, cursing himself for how wrong it was while I'd assured him over and over that according to the Circle I was just as ready as he was. The first of not nearly as many as I'd liked to pretend, upping the count with each telling, but certainly one of the ones that stayed in my mind, one of the ones I went back to over the next few months before my final, in a way luckiest, escape. Before Justice had taken me, back in Amaranthine, there were nights I'd get drunk with the other Wardens, all talk and absolutely no tolerance, and I cried myself to sleep the night I'd been drunk enough to admit about Karl and how I'd missed him and to confess to all the others I’d been pretending to be a slutty womaniser just to hide my feelings over the one thing I truly wanted from the Circle. That was the memory I'd driven myself mad over as I mulled it during the first trek through the Dark Roads, the one I should have been paying more attention to but was far more concerned with how recent the last time I'd felt those hands had been. How Karl had told me he did love me, the last time we were together, and that had been what made me run away again, too afraid to commit, and I'd landed in Amaranthine and been sentenced twice over, never to return again to his arms.

I'd sentenced Hawke's sister the same as myself, all because I was too concerned with how I'd let the one person who'd ever cared for me die alone, unloved, and without having felt my skin beneath his for eight tormented months for the both of us. Perhaps it had been a game of a different sort as well, one I hadn't been particularly good at and didn't even know all the rules to until Hawke had swept into my every waking and sleeping thought Justice didn't invade himself.

But, a game against the templars? I'd won a few of them over, too. Wasn't a very sporting game then.

Justice was very good at playing me, if only because Hawke had never known me without him. Some of the things he said, things about how he was going to cherish this, and didn't that just sound so much deeper than the reality of I'm going to sodding love this and I'm going to love it at least twice in the next ten minutes, almost made me swoon.

'You get to feel,' Justice told me as Hawke's lips were on mine again, the softer, gentler kisses that Justice stole from Kristoff I just knew it, 'But I'm in control.'

'No, no, no, that's not fair!' I screamed, but Justice always ignored me.

'It's your body that desires him, and you will know what he's like beneath you, but you are not going to try and make this more than what it is. This is fleeting.'

'This is torture!' I groaned, and Justice let that slip out loud, as Hawke's hand went up my spine. It wasn't as big as Karl's, or maybe more accurately I was bigger now myself, but it was strong and heavy against all the weary muscle, and I sagged into him, grunting into our current kiss and grasping his face between my hands again. It'd been so long, so very long since I'd touched anyone and it hadn't been enough when I was running around, and Hawke had such an amazing body to work with. I was already hard against him, so I ground my cock against his thigh and nearly melted at how solid and good he felt, so much better than my stupid thinly-stretched cot or my own fingers clumsily trying to make this last. He slipped that leg between mine and pushed into my rutting, and suddenly that month of picking up technique at the Pearl, the months of quickly taken trysts against bookshelves and stone walls and parchment-covered desks, I couldn't remember any of them and I realised with a start that Hawke had more sex than me, Hawke had ten years more sex than me.

That disappointment allowed Justice to reclaim us, to turn my kisses back from furiously greedy to whatever he was doing, so patient and stupid and tender and not right at all. "You had me scared you were in a bit of a hurry there," Hawke purred, and Justice had my lips right against his throat as he said that, his magnificent beard tickling my brow and his voice causing such exhilarating, velvety vibrations under my wet and hungry mouth, and he kissed my temple after he said it. When he did it, it wasn’t so stupid because it was just so loving, so perfect, so exactly what I'd craved. Justice imitated my laugh while I wanted to swallow more of those vibrations, his fingers drawing down Hawke's chest and giving me chills at how he'd stray them off the line to touch at that muscle.

"I am," he said for us. "I've left patients, and if I get through them tonight I'll seek out the underground, see if I'm needed there as well."

"The only place you're needed is on my cock," Hawke said, and oh, how I agreed, how I wanted to continue to rut but Justice was keeping us so infuriatingly still.

"I'm doing this now because I promised earlier, but I can't stay long," Justice told him, stroking Hawke's coarse hair back with his thumb. "It might be best if we don't even undress, and if we just continue like this."

"I do all this work wooing you and I don't even get you naked?"

"Easier to get back dressed afterwards," Justice finished.

Oh no. No no no, I needed to see him, I needed to see him and lick him and I needed to suck markings on every flat inch of that body I’ve had to imagine but never had proof of... "Besides, I like it like this, the rutting."

Hawke moaned in agony, and I was eager to agree except he'd moaned under my mouth again and that just made me aware of how quickly this was going to go regardless. "Do I at least get to see what I'm rubbing against, or are you saving that for some special occasion?"

Justice stopped everything for a few tormented seconds before nodding. "That is fair," he decided, sliding off the best thing I'd ever felt in my life and unbuckling our belt, pushing aside our robes and our shirts and pulling our trousers to our knees. "Do you like it?"

Hawke licked his upper lip and nodded, eyes narrowed in approval. "If you were hiding that beauty away, you need to wear less layers, I barely felt it," he said, his hand going to my balls and giving them a heft. Justice let me tremble appropriately at that, started to moved my hips against his palm and pushed us towards Hawke's leg.

Not even Justice could hold back how I moaned at the texture of worked, smooth, cold silk against my naked body, at the warm, heavy muscles underneath. Maybe Justice was right, this wouldn't last long at all, not when the full length of his thigh and hip provided such wonderful sensation against my far too long neglected cock.

"Oh, I don't get to show off, do I?" Hawke laughed. "Here I thought you wanted a bit of dick tonight, not just to rub one off against me like we're teenagers."

I wanted to moan and wail at that, to pin him down and rip that silk in shreds to get at his cock and show him exactly how much I wanted him to show off, but Justice held Hawke's shoulder and rubbed us over him exquisitely again as he asked, completely, purely innocently but it's not like it'd do any harm at this stage, "Well, how old did you think I was?"

Hawke dropped his hand, which was the worst thing he could've possibly done, until he pushed me off him a little. No, no, no, I needed that, if all I was going to get to last the rest of my life was a quick dry-humping against his thigh like we really were Fereldan dogs, I was going to sodding take it. "What do you mean?" he asked, just a hint of a delicious growl in that tone and even though I knew it was angry I wanted to swallow it and hold it in my mouth and let it loose over his cock.

"I'm nineteen," Justice admitted for us. I stopped feeling anything for a second, wanting to curl up and die because Hawke hadn't ever asked the truth, and I'd rather liked playing the adult. "Didn't you notice?"

Hawke slid back, taking all of that amazing body away with him and holding my shoulders to keep me from following. "Nineteen," he repeated.

"Nineteen," he repeated. "For a few months now, too. But they've been hard months spent trying to not beg you every night to join--"

"Nineteen. Which is two years younger than my sister."

"Is it?" We hadn't known, really.

"Who is seven years younger than me," Hawke added.

"So? I've been with much older than that," and I nearly jolted when I noticed that I'd said that, not Justice, purely me with the flippancy and glib and sexual tinge Justice kept out of our normal, combined tone.

"You were sixteen when we met, then," Hawke said.

"And you would've been twenty-six," I agreed, reaching for his hips. "So now that we've got basic subtraction out of the way, I'd really like to get back to that rutting now--"

He swatted my hands away. "Do you have any idea what I'd dream up doing to you? What I'd touched myself imagining you'd do to me?"

I had to smirk at that. "Oh, I have a few ideas. I wonder if any coincided? Let's test that, shall we?" It was so good to not have Justice filtering me at all, after three years. I sat up, finishing off those jacket buckles. "In fact, let's spend quite some time comparing, I'm sure no-one will actually die if I take a solid night off for once."

Hawke's magnificent hands, so much better than Karl's because of the nimble fingers and stronger grip and calluses, grabbed at my wrists to stop me. "I dreamed about you when you were sixteen," he repeated, and I heard it then, the hollow, judging tone.

"And I've been having sex at a rather frequent rate since I was fifteen before that, so you'll forgive me if I don't see your point. You should've seen me back at the Circle, I couldn't go four hours without someone's hand up my robes."

"And you slept with Isabela," he mused bitterly.

"Her?" I choked on my own laughter. "As good at healing as I am, Hawke, do you really think I'd be able to even think about my prick if I'd been through that, much less do anything at all for the past six years but pray I could fix it?"

Hawke raised an eyebrow, making me swoon again, but he held my wrists so tightly I couldn't press in to kiss it like I so desperately wanted. Or maybe Justice was letting him hold me back, the traitor. "I've spent an awful lot of time imagining what she meant by electricity thing," he said carefully. But not angrily.

I smirked. "Oh, that. I needed a hiding place when I ran away, and I was fourteen then, and I'd been looking forward to the whorehouse. Turns out that the Pearl, for all its moral scruples, wouldn't let anyone under sixteen have a go, even with good coin." I shrugged. "But they do take trainees at that age, and teach them how to be well-trained without any need for outside contact at all. They took my money for that, and then they found out I was an apostate with very good hands for healing, and I got free room and board for two months out of it. Two exhilarating months aside from all the diseases. And until Isabela and hers came through, I can assure you most of Denerim was glad I was there."

"That doesn't answer my electricity thing mystery," Hawke sighed.

"It's just that. A thing. Do you know how many times she's been to see me in the past three years? That's after I'd fixed her up the first time, after years of her own nonchalance about having every potential disease in the book!" I sighed myself, relaxing. "Anyway, I wasn't going to leave her all... Infested. I figured the best way was to try and use some sort of device to fix it all for her, all the nasty little internal bits I wanted to touch except for the nasty diseases they had, and I had to improvise. So I charged up this polished metal rod I found and held in her, and I kept my hand on her stomach and pushed as much magic as possible through both hands, curing and, well, sending some electric shocks to relax the muscles. But other than where I absolutely couldn't avoid it, I didn't lay a finger on her. Shame, really, she does have a fantastic body."

"You turned her down?"

"She wasn't ready to deflower a fourteen year old apostate herself," I explained. "Well, until after the cure. She said that was one of the best rounds in her life, asked me for it again just recently. Personally I just knew that it meant I'd need to improvise a little with electricity when I did have sex. Now, if you'd like to see what I did to earn solitary in the Circle, that was a different electricity thing and one you'd really rather like..." I offered, letting a few tendrils dance between my fingertips invitingly as I gave my best come-hither smirk.

"You realise I'm almost half your age again?"

"Karl was over twice my age," I told him flatly. "Most of my lovers were a good ten years older than me, that's what happens when you're in the Circle and you're younger than your peers and can't go around snogging apprentices at random without getting chastised even if they're older than you."

For a brief second, Hawke sat there, completely ignoring that he had his hands pinning my wrists and my cock was practically swollen and exposed. "Are you telling me you get off on this?" Hawke asked cautiously. "This whole age difference thing?"

"Well, I will say the sex was always better with an older man," I laughed. "Do you have any idea what it's like to have someone with ten years of validated magical expertise surging you from the inside and out with every trick he knows while simultaneously giving you the greatest sexual pleasure you've ever had? Can you possibly imagine how that feels?"

"I was hoping to," Hawke muttered, making my heart sink and actually abating my arousal. Slightly.

"I'm sorry," I said softly. "It never came up-- It never seemed important-- It was never wrong, all those nights you must've thought of me, while I was aching for you alone in my cot and swearing to the Maker that I only needed you--"

"It was wrong," Hawke said, his eyes dark and, although this might’ve been optimistic on my part, hungry. "Andraste's sagging tits--"

"I'm reasonably sure they'd've been quite nice, actually," I piped in.

"Anders, I was vividly obsessed with a teenage boy!" he growled. Well, that brought my arousal right back up to speed.

"I was not a boy," I scoffed. "I was a fully harrowed mage and a Grey Warden, if you'd please remember that. I'd slept with nine men and four women, most of whom were older than you, and I'll have you know that each and every one of them was extremely satisfied with the endeavors. I'd paid my own way to Kirkwall, even to Amaranthine. I'd been to the Deep Roads six times, I'd fought broodmothers and dragons and once even a ghost dragon and scores of thousands of demons. I'd set up a business for three months and saved hundreds of dying Fereldans while you were off playing the mercenary like you were the child--"

"You were," Hawke growled, gripping my wrists tighter and pushing them back, making me yelp and cower in on myself. "A little boy. A boy remarkably good at acting the adult, but a boy nonetheless. And what I did, in your name, in your image, was shameful, Anders."

"It wasn't really my name," I gasped, speaking through the pain and trying to concentrate on fixing any potential tears in my ligaments. "And it's nowhere near as shameful as leaving me here, unattended, when I'm so very good at sex, Hawke, and it's been so long."

"No-one is good at sex at nineteen," Hawke spat. "We just all think we are. Most men don't even get into their sexual groove until they're in their early twenties. And you, how long have you been celibate for, Anders? On top of everything else, you'd've been abstinent, out of practice, for a good three, four years by now."

"Three and a half," I admitted. "And that's only because Justice doesn't let me do anything! I'm lucky if he'll even give me enough pity to toss one out quickly before he takes over again and demands I repay his favour by working myself to the bone, starving myself, giving all of myself away except that one tiny little part I wanted to share. I wasn't even allowed to look at you for more than a few seconds at a time because of him-- don't you dare tell me that now, when he finally gave me this, and he had to give me this, you're suddenly taking this from me too." I was near tears-- Or maybe I actually was crying --but I didn't care. "He won't let me do this again, not ever," I managed to choke out through the tightness in my throat. "He really does think you're a distraction, he wasn't lying earlier--"

"So on top of this, the mature approach that was swaying me into this bed earlier, all those warnings that were meant to head me off but made me excited because you were yielding anyway... Are you telling me the only adult thing about you is Justice?" I winced.

"Please," I begged, because I've never been above begging, I just like to pretend that I am, "Please don't say no. I'm old enough now, it's alright now. I've needed you, I've broken for you, I've even gotten down on my knees in front of the Grand Cleric herself and prayed for you, don't you dare have me so close to this and not just, just pretend you could love me back."

His hands went tighter on my wrists, but it was reflexive, momentary, and he eased them back up that tiny bit before he spoke again. "Love you back," he repeated.

I nodded. "My fetish for older men aside, Hawke, I want you more than just for a quick moment. He wanted to just get it out of my mind, the quickest, basest sex imaginable, but I know I can’t just have that. But if that's all, if that's the only thing I can get, I'll take his offer, Hawke. I could say no. I could fight, I could go and just hire someone at the Rose every time I needed a quick release, I don't need it to be you. But I didn't need to be celibate for the past three years, either, despite what Justice thinks on sex. And I'll accept it, Hawke. The next twenty-five years of my life, I'll never have another lover again, if I can just," I took a deep breath, unable to even look at him in front of me, lowering my chin so that I instead was forced to look at my own shame. A nice touch I'll assume was Justice’s decision. "If I can just have you once, so that in my dreams, I can pretend it was something we'd have spent our lives perfecting. If I can go to sleep each night and yearn for the proper taste of your mouth, your skin, your seed, instead of just trying to imagine it and driving myself mad, if, if I can just, be held in those arms I've wanted to feel the warmth and strength of more than I’ve wanted any single thing, if I can feel your cock pushing inside of me and filling me and know that just once I caused you to share bliss with me, a damned stupid apostate abomination beyond redemption--"

"You're still a child, despite all that," Hawke said, and I couldn't help but jerk against his grip, to cry out indignantly and to try so hard just to get away from this sodding nightmare it couldn't be happening to me.

"Maybe I am!" I screamed, and I was crying now, except it was with a fury more righteous than any Justice had ever felt, or maybe he was finally understanding the true depth of how much I needed the man before us and helping me, just a little, which was a nice thought. "Maybe I'm just a stupid child, a spoiled little brat who wants sex, sex, sex, and that's all! Maybe I just think with my cock and oh, I just so happen to know the best looking man I've ever met flirts with men as easily as women and does so often, in front of me, and it goes right to my easy little cock every time he does! Maybe I just confuse my emotions and maybe I don't know anything about the real world and maybe I care too much about the things I do know but I don't care, Hawke! It doesn't matter how stupid I am, how much of a damn kid I am, I've been in love with you for years and I do know the difference between wanting someone and needing someone and needing someone! And maybe I'm just throwing some stupid childish tantrum, maybe I do that and maybe Justice has been holding them back and maybe I don't care because this isn't sodding fair and my entire life is just a long string of not sodding fair and I just want something to go my way for once!"

Hawke twisted my wrists again, and I jerked forward this time, feeling the gracious touch of his lips against mine, his tongue sliding past to lay against mine. I drooped, I groaned, I closed my eyes and fell into him, I let my hands fall limp as he kissed me so soundly I thought I'd melted on the spot. He pulled off, letting one hand free to remove my hairtie and stroking along the freshly loosened strands, coaxing out the bends that had formed from the constant tie. "I just wanted to hear you admit it," Hawke teased.

Oh, that was it. I snarled, and even Justice agreed he'd gone too far, toyed with my emotions far too much, and together we slammed my hand into his chest and shoved him to the mattress beneath us, pinning him there. But that was all he did, knowing that of the two of us, this was an indignation I was far more suited to fight alone than with aid. I had the hand Hawke had in my hair in my own grip now, both of us holding each other, and I was straddling him, my hips planted firmly over his stomach so he couldn't try any fancy roguish twists out of my grasp. I had his arm held alongside his head, my thumb in the centre of his palm so that his fingers were unable to spread and flex because I was pushing on each of the tiny tendons there, and I kept my bound arm locked at the elbow between us, the scant inches of space it took up the only thing keeping our chests from touching as I bent over him. For good measure, extra measure, I flicked my hand off of his for just a second, quick as lightning and almost, almost enough for his reflexes to be free before I'd grabbed him again, and used that movement to capture him in a force grip. It was not my strongest magic, but my weakest skills were above his reach, above the reach of most mere men.

"I can summon my every passing fancy to reality with a simple twitch of my fingers," I growled, eyes meeting his, "And you dare treat me like I'm just a common, horny teenager?"

Hawke just smirked, devilish and gorgeous and often leading me to physical inhumane madness. "You weren't joking about those temper tantrums, were you?" he cooed, and it was that same hungry noise from before, the one Justice had stolen from me.

I cried out again, rolling my entire body against his and making him arch so deliciously against me while I slammed his hand up and back down again, sent a wave of shuddering currents of electricity down my body and over his just so he'd know and compounding them, making them stronger with each collapse exponentially. "I'm not a kid anymore!" I shrieked. "I'm not a kid and I need you!"

"Oh, so this is that electricity thing, is it?" he mused, shivering beneath me, causing my body to have all sorts of nice little shakes of its own. "I suppose it could be nice, although you're being an awfully bad sport about it. Especially when the way I see it, you're the one with the other one at his bidding at the moment. I ought to give you such a thrashing, disobedient child like you, you should be boxed on the ears and spanked."

If he was trying to cut through all the sheer anger and frustration at being treated like a set of constantly imbalanced sexual scales with that... It worked. But not the way he hoped. I rolled the threat over in my head, and started to chuckle, and by the time it'd stopped mulling around I'd fallen with my face nuzzled into his chest and was laughing so hard I could barely breathe. "Maker, I love you," I managed once I was done, his accidentally freed hand stroking over my back gentle as you please and me wiping the tears away as I scooted up.

I kissed him again, because I could and because he looked so good there, and smiled down at him. "I'm sorry I lied," I repeated again.

"Believe me, I'm at the point now where I'm wondering what it would've been like to have had a desperate sixteen year old boy begging on my cock," he admitted. "Even if it does make me feel a bit of a dirty old man."

I rolled my eyes. "Stupider than I am," I told him. "I like dirty old men."

"Well in that case I now feel woefully inadequate in both respects."

"Stupid," I repeated, tasting the words pleasantly on my tongue, and he shrugged nonchalantly and dragged his hand down warily over my back.

"Could you let me go now?" he asked, finally releasing my wrist. I surged it quickly with a comforting burst, making sure it wouldn't bruise or form any tears. "If I am going to have sex with such a young, pliant little thing I'd like to at least show him he's wrong about how good he is."

Now that stirred me in good ways, so I rolled off of him so he could slip on top, already spreading my legs like the good little whore I never really was and undressing myself as best I could despite my own almost piteous writhing against the air. Hawke laughed and pressed the hand still against my back into me sharply. "I meant this, you cheeky brat. I really am of a mind to spank you but good."

"Oh. I'd forgotten about that. You know I'm dreadful at those spells, don't you?"

"So dreadful you forget how to undo them?" he asked, eyes narrowed in warning as he scooted over me, and Maker when he pinned me down instead I felt so small, even though I wasn't exactly the norm for a mage build and I was actually a little taller than him.

"Just for future reference I'll probably break them with only the minimum amount of lost concentration. Happens all the time, actually," I explained, smirking. "I'd rather it be from you than Justice."

"And for future reference of my own, Justice was the one who came in here earlier," Hawke replied, rubbing his hands over my forearms. My still regrettably clothed forearms, come to think-- The only part of either of us undressed was my unbuttoned jacket and me with my pants around my knees. I frowned at that, which made him laugh. "You're actually kind of cute when you're all pouty like that, now that I know what it really is." He bent down and kissed the top of my nose, right under the patch between my eyes, and I scoffed when I understood I'd been scrunching my entire face up.

"What is it, then?" I asked, trying to sound angrier than I was horny or curious. But I was curious, and even without his body hovering just out of reach of mine, without him backing away at the same distance when I tried to buck up and get a little more sweet contact, I was already far gone into horny.

"It's churlish," he replied smoothly. "And it's bratty. And it's just another spoiled little tantrum. How old were you when you became harrowed, was it? I can't help but think you hadn't grown up enough by then."

"I'd already run away twice and they knew I'd been practicing magic outside the Circle well enough to pretend I was a prodigy, so they just made me one," I warned, trying to rut him again anyway. "And I'd killed before I became harrowed."

"Killing a man before you've had sex is a terrible tragedy," Hawke said. "But either way, you were a child then and you're a child now and you do not know how to act the adult. It actually explains so much. Why you're horrid at cards, why you can't drink--"

"I can drink fine, it's Justice not letting me-"

"Anders, you were practically snogging Bianca last time we had an after-mission pint."

"I most certainly was not!"

"Then you fell on her and had your hands very engaged in figuring out her mechanisms. You nearly broke her, and Varric was complaining all week that you messed her up and got her all worked up so she won't work for him right anymore."

"Can we please not discuss Varric and his bizarre affair with his gun when you're about two inches away from making me the happiest man in Kirkwall? And stop moving away!" I was shaking pretty badly at the way he'd shifted his hips away again on me.

"Sure, keep pointing out you're spoiled."

"I am not!" I screamed, trying again to meet him and finally giving up with an anguish yell and dropping back to the bed, heaving as I tried not to cry again. "Please, stop it, before Justice takes over again and makes me leave, just, please do something," I begged, looking at where he was still rubbing over my arm, reaching up to touch his chest but he took his hands off me just long enough to throw them off and shake his head disapprovingly. And he smiled that devilish smile as he did it.

"See, kids are never patient," he said.

"I waited three years!" I protested. He shrugged again, and I was just worn down completely. "At least let me do something to you, if you're not going to do anything, and I'll leave right after, and I promise, you can just forget everything about me. Might be for the best, anyway, I'm not worth it."

Hawke's hands loosened, heading up to my jaw and facing me to him. "Yes, you are," he whispered, leaning in to kiss me again. I had mine on him in seconds, scrambling to open up his housecoat and smoothing my hands over his chest again. I breathed in deeply, certain beyond all doubt now that this would never happen again and needing to drink in every little detail from his scent to his taste to his warmth. "I don't deal well with things if I take them seriously, Anders," he mumbled against my lips. "It's easier to try and make light of things, to get the other person to say what I need to hear."

"What do you need to hear?" I asked, desperate as a man could be.

"You swear you're nineteen, not younger?"

"I swear it," I told him, "I swear it, and I swear you're not the first, and you're younger than most anyway, I swear it's fine by me and I like it--"

"Sh," he warned, putting a finger between our lips to silence me. I swallowed my pleas, but opened my mouth and sucked the tip of his finger in my mouth. His eyes widened at that, so I took it as a mark to use my tongue to push him further in, moving his finger through my mouth using only the muscles in my mouth and not bobbing over him. "I... That was more than I needed to hear, but I think I like you better quiet if this is what I get."

I smiled around his finger, taking his wrist between my hands and working his hand in and out of my mouth, switching fingers when I pleased and licking trails on the webbing between each when I did. I kept my eyes on his face, watching his lips twitch as he tried to keep his breathing steady, the slow blush that came over his neck and settled in his cheeks, the way his eyes darkened with pure lust more deeply with each pass. After a minute, he started to stroke my hair back again, pressing our foreheads together first then lining up our groins. I moaned around him as he finally started to move, rubbing that now heated silk over me in full-length passes, and within seconds I was thrusting into him hard and clutching his coat again, and when I felt his cock through the thin silk graze against mine, I let him fall from my lips so I could toss my head back and scream out as I came all over his finery.

He licked his lips as he watched me come down, affectionately bumped his nose against mine as I panted into his cheek, and started to laugh. "It's not funny, you ass," I sighed.

"It's a little funny," he replied, although he was laughing enough that he obviously thought it was a lot funny. "You always made it sound like you were so experienced, Anders, and you came the second I started moving back."

"After you spent twenty minutes torturing my poor cock after years of neglect, mind you," I reminded him. "I didn't do anything but wish you'd touch me."

"And I did," Hawke said playfully, propping himself up some and stroking my face gently. "You're quite lovely like this," he mused. "All joking aside, you really are quite the picture of a thoroughly ravished teenage beauty. I think I might have a fetish for blond apostate abominations in their late teens, Anders, do you think it'd be hard to find more of them?" I smacked him hard on the back of the head, and he laughed out a feigned pained noise, and flicked me on the nose. "Ungrateful little snot," he teased again.
"I am going to make you pay for every time you've laughed," I decided then and there. "And unlike you, I don't need to touch you to do it."

Hawke scoffed, rolling his eyes, and it was my turn to smirk as I held up a hand where he could see it. "Watch this," I ordered. "Watch it carefully." I opened it up, twisting my wrist so he could see both sides, waggling my fingers. He did watch, bemused and a little entranced, which was exactly what I was hoping for.

While he was focused on my left hand, I twitched the fingers on my right, out of sight to untie the knot of his robe. He looked down when he felt his robe spill open, so I tsked at him and waved my hand under his eyes. "Watch this, only this."

"But you've got two--"

"And if you get to torture me, I get to torture you. Or do you forget exactly what justice means?"

He frowned at that, trying to figure it out. "Is this a threesome? I'm starting to get confused who I'm sleeping with and when."

"There's a lot of times when we're the same person," I explained. "Most of the time. And even when he's not here, I still feel him, still know him. He changes everything." I sighed, moving my hand just to see if Hawke's eyes would follow-- They did. Good. "I used to laugh more. And flirt. All the things you do. It's part of why I find you so insufferable."

"I thought you loved me," he said, eyes still following as I tapped my fingers in invisible patterns.

"I do. It's insufferable. Maddening. Miserable. I curse your name as often as I worship it. But I suppose I can deal with it, so long as you’re not forgetful."

"Forgetful of what?" he mused, absolutely transfixed. I had him. Good. I'd been working up quite a few suitable spells at once while he lay there, and I released them all in unison: the gathered currents of tiny ice stones to prickle over his skin, the rush of electricity directly up his spine to hypersensitise his nerves, the standard spell I always do when I have sex where I thoroughly cleanse every cell in our bodies just to make sure that we can do whatever we wish to each other with no consequence except that the spell always makes me ready to go.

"What was that?" he breathed, shaking against the hailstones.

"You've had sex before, you know how messy it can get. Now it won't. Which doesn't matter when I'm not planning to put any of my pieces in you to start with, I suppose."

"Start?" He asked, until I winked at him and pushed a small amount of compacted force against his cock, pressing it solidly against his thigh and rolling it over him. He hissed, closing his eyes and slumping as he tried to form curses under his breath, so I upped the pace of the rolls, and stretched the length of the spell so I could move it along his chest as well. I snapped with my free hand, the one he was supposed to watch, making him open his eyes and look down as I made sure he was keeping its attention. The noise he made nearly made me spill again, but I was more determined this time, although I was certain it would sneak in my every sleeping thought. "Oh, you do not get to start without me," he growled, pressing in, but I twitched again and gave my own roguish smile as I cast a glyph barricading me from him, paralysing any part that slipped in between where I wanted him. For good measure, I scooted from underneath him, effectively forcing him to stay in the same position. It was a nice one, too, when I was standing beside the bed and stripping off my jacket, folding it, carefully laying it down on the edge of the bed. He was stuck on his knees and his hands, in the middle of pushing his body in an upwards shuffle but now with his legs stretched at a diagonally to the mattress, and his eyes were right on me. I held my hand back up, palm to me and fingers curled slightly, and smirked wider. "This isn't fair!"

"Neither is having someone beg you to give you the only thing they’d ever truly wanted and you turning it into a punishment game. Like it's a crime to truly love you, or to have omitted anything about my life. But let's amend that, shall we? Ask me anything, Hawke. I've nothing to hide from you. Provided," I added, waving again to cause his clothes to unsew neatly, falling in pools at his wrists and knees and slipping quite nicely through the glyph. For extra measure, because I was some spoiled kid who didn't have experience with such things, I even had the thread spool itself tightly on top of each bit. "You have nothing to hide from me."

"Hello, Justice," he sighed, and it was true, I noticed, although the game itself was mine in design it was Justice's in inspiration. "Can Anders come out and play some more? We were having such a good time."

"It's only somewhat Justice," I corrected him. "Most of this is me. The how-to, the words, the magic, that's me. The motivation, that's Justice, although I have to say we agree fairly heavily on this. Justice likes punishing indignation, you see. It's sort of the whole point of Justice entirely. And when you put Justice in someone who's young, and impulsive, and desperate, and oh so very angry that he's all these things and that the world doesn't seem to fit with these things, then you get a completely new beast, don't you."

"Vengeance," Hawke remembered. Incorrectly.

"Most of the time," I nodded, giving another twitch to cause a torrent of tiny icicles to tap tattoos against his skin, in a pattern I only could make up in my head and therefore Hawke would never anticipate, over his full body. And I have always had an affinity for cold spells. "But sometimes, it's not Justice who's the one you have to watch out for. I bet you were far worse than me at my age. I bet you were so much angrier at the world. I bet you'd tell me all about it if I let you, too. Old men do so love to tell stories, it's one of the things I don't find attractive. It's so much nicer when they hold me down and plead with me to never leave them, worship me and tell me I'm the most gorgeous sight they'd ever laid eyes on. The way they look, all guilt-ridden and embarrassed and shamed as they curse themselves for falling in love with a boy, I have such a fondness for that guilty, hungry tinge to the sex."

"So you don’t have a thing for the men themselves, it’s for what you make them feel," Hawke panted, the movements starting to get to him. Or maybe it was the way I'd just folded and stripped off my shirt as well. "You're an incubus."

"I'm no such thing. It just so happens I do find them attractive. Older lovers are so much more experienced. There's all that hair, for one, and beards, oh I like those, all that coarseness following wet lips and scratching right as I'm most sensitive. I've been trying for years to grow one but it just never bloody takes. But there's the hair, and the experience of course, a good lover at twenty-five is a great lover at forty if they're practiced enough. And there's the things they're willing to do, and that they know how to do painlessly, effortlessly. And then there's the smile lines, you just know someone is worthwhile when there's always these little wrinkles around their mouth, which is around your cock, and it's so easy to get them to smile at you when they look up again. Although," I let off, letting myself really think about it. "I never cared much for the softness of the mages I'd sleep with. Most of us just let ourselves go, I'm certain I've never been with a mage who hadn't gone a bit fat. But there were times when it'd work the other way, where I'd have twenty years of a good body pressed against me. The templars, mm, they were good for a quick tumble, especially with an unrepentant mage, and there's you, and there was always all that good, solid muscle-- It's almost impossible to get muscle like that at fifteen, especially when you're a mage, believe me, I tried."

"It shows," Hawke groaned approvingly.

"Oh, good," I said, taking the hand he was supposed to watch and raking my fingers down the middle of my chest, scratching at the skin hard enough to leave shiny red trails. That noise would undoubtedly be in my dreams, along with the way his pupils dilated enough to fill his eyes, the way he licked his lips and started to rock into the spells harder. "It is tricky to upkeep, as little as I manage, but I do make the time where I can. Justice quite approves, especially since you never know when a good solid punch will do more wonders than a spell, or when you’d need to fight off a grip. Of course it doesn't hurt that I'm rather vain-- Or I was, I suppose, Justice pried that habit down, the upkeep wasn't something that suited him, and now I'm just somewhat vain. Oh, I do miss the jewellery sometimes, and the bright colours, but he is right, it won't do to be so showy anymore. Perhaps I'll at least do the earring again. Would you approve of that? Would you like me wearing gold and teal and tighter clothing without sleeves on? To show myself off as often as I could, brag and advertise yet never give to anyone save you?"

"You look rather good in drab colours, Anders," Hawke whimpered, and I had him, he was so close I could just tell.

"It feels good, Hawke?" I asked, sitting on the bed next to him and sticking the hand he watched under his nose, the other running above his back and letting the trickles of ice migrate to it so they could bounce between our flesh. It tickled, mostly. I'd never much cared for it, but many of the others did, it was something most of the mages tried on me and only Karl had realised I much preferred heat to cold, I could give cold to myself but soft, strong hands radiating solid fire against my back, my neck, my thighs-- "Oh, sorry, love, I was just remembering something and got distracted," I yelped, snapping out of my stupor and the accidental melting of all the ice between us. I'd heated myself, trying to recall Karl's magic the way I'd done often during my quick wanks back when I was on the run. It wasn't fair to Hawke to remember an older lover, and I stole my hand away until it cooled then sought out to cure any accidental burns. "I've never been all too good with flames," I confessed. "I always seem to accidentally catch things on fire, or cause too large of one... I didn't mean to heat you, you said you'd liked the ice and I'm quite good with ice--"

"I do," Hawke said quietly. "Very much. But it's hard to stay aroused when you're being doused by cold. I'd prefer the heat, if you don't mind."

"I burn things down," I repeated. "Buildings." Barns. "And you've a rather nice house you've done rather a lot to earn and you've a rather nice woman and some rather strange but otherwise nice dwarves who live here with you and the last thing you’d need is to be holed up in Darktown begging for scraps."

"Would you take me in, if I were in Darktown?" Hawke asked.

"Live with you?" It felt like my insides were stitching together. "Yes, of course. I'd take you in. I'd heal all your wounds and kiss away all your whines about not being in Hightown any longer. I’d make love to you viciously and passionately every night. I'd catch pigeons for you and your servants could roast them for us over the lantern flames."

"You eat pigeons? Can't you afford better?"

"I rather like them," I shrugged. "We'd eat them all the time when I was younger, and I'd catch my own, snap their necks and take the feathers for warmth, and since I did it, I wouldn't have to share any of it, not the food nor the feathers. They're easy to catch, and they're common, and it's oddly easier without magic. No-one looks twice at someone on the docks who'd walked up from Darktown and started catching birds. Especially someone who's wearing the feathers, they're quite good to keep warm. I'll catch gulls and terns, too."

"I'm feeding you better than that," Hawke decided. "I'm making sure. At least you're not eating rats."

"Oh, no, never cared much for the taste, and it took away the purpose of having cats around. But I don't need more than that, Hawke, pigeons and cold porridge were most of my meals until I became a warden, I can survive quite well on that alone."

"You really aren't bothered by the taste?"

"Even if I'd been bothered as a child, Grey Wardens have no sense of taste," I admitted.

"Then why did you care so much what I tasted like?" Hawke said, cheeky as can be.

"There's a difference between not being able to taste birds and not being able to taste men."

"And that difference is?"

'Darkspawn don't eat birds,' I tried not to think, but instead I smiled and started moving my hand again. "It's something with the death, I suppose. I can lick and suck and bite to my heart's content, but if what I'm savouring is already dead, I can't taste it at all. It's something tied to the soul of it, I think."

"And so when you say you want the taste of me lingering..."

"It could very well be the last genuine thing I taste, yes," I agreed. "And I'd treasure it."

"If you let me go, I'll let you try as much as you'd like. You could lick every inch of my body all you want."

It was a nice promise. "I suppose that'd mean you'd win, then? If I touched you to make you finish?"

"Oh, you don't have to touch, Anders, you could just lap me up." The cheeky, cheeky bastard.

"And then I'd suppose you'd take it back, swear I was such a self-serving brat being unable to keep my promise, and you'd box me 'round the ears then?"

"I'll save that for another time. When I've got a switch, perhaps."

"I'm not too crazy about being disciplined," I warned.

"Then what's the point of having some smart kid begging for me?"

He laughed again, and I'd wanted to stop that. I spread my hand out again, sending bright jolts of electricity between us. "Ask everyone I'd slept with, I'm sure they've an answer. Of course, that's a hard number to reach. Oh, well. I suppose I’d have to just show you." My hand slid down his back further, temptingly hovering over his nice, firm ass, and I quickly made sure he'd kept his eyes rooted on my other hand again. "How do you prefer your sex, Hawke? I've always wondered. Me, I do prefer to be on top, although I'm almost even with rather I'd prefer giving or receiving. And you saw earlier, I do like to rut, and you must've been wondering for a few minutes now whether or not I'm as good sucking on a cock as I am sucking fingers." I worked the current down into him, teasing around his hole, breathing heavier than I'd wanted when he started to buck into it.

"I've been trying to take you seriously, actually," Hawke gasped, stretching out as much as he dared without falling into the glyph. I rewarded him by pushing the tiniest bit of concentrated force inside him, just a poke to stretch him a little, and Hawke cried out. "It's hard to think you're younger than me-- I'd thought you were thirty, or thirty-two, when we'd met. You seemed a little younger, appearance-wise, but you acted so much older. Like you say, it's a bit attractive in a way. If it's your fetish to be attracted to older men, I've been trying to work it over tonight to where I kept that attractive, kept it present. But that isn't what you want, nor do you want jokes, although you like both."

"I do," I agreed, pushing in a little deeper. He keened, almost slipping into the glyph again, so I dropped it. I'd gotten my eyeful of that position anyway. He started gasping for relief as he let his arms and knees rest, falling into the mattress and his own clothes and lifting his hips up for me to continue.

"I'm sorry for doing this," Hawke gasped. "I'm sorry I've been toying with you-- But you've been toying with me just the same."

"I've not!" I looked down at him, admittedly flushing at that. "Well, I wasn't."

"Not this," Hawke said as he wet his lips, his voice devoid of its usual somewhat arrogant and joking tone when he spoke again. "The remarks about this being the only time. Is that really fair, to you? Does Justice really think, with all the times that a just cause was done out of love, that keeping two people apart is the right idea? Especially since you keep saying you love me enough to force yourself to limit to a one-night stand instead of going without-- You think that's fair to me, either? I can assure you, I've thought about you as often as you've thought about me."

I took my hands away, unable to continue to cast anything but a pall over myself, looking down at my knees. "At least you could have someone else," I warned him. "I came to Kirkwall because Karl loved me, you know, because he needed me. And maybe, if he was here, I'd've been able to get past the fact that you were just... The first time I saw you, I wanted you in ways I’d never wanted anyone in my life. I'd always imagined I'd marry some plump young wife and fight off any templars who dared take away my family, but I didn't want that life, not particularly. I saw you and wanted to be in your life, whatever it took. But I owed Karl, and if he was here, he'd love me still. And if we were together, you might've wanted me, but you'd've been able to get someone else."

"That kinky old bastard," Hawke teased. "Shacking up with a sixteen year old boy and keeping horny Hawkes from swooping in."

I laughed, but the humour died quickly. I rubbed my arms, suddenly feeling a chill. "Justice approved of Karl, you know. He was a mage, and one who'd brought how wrong Kirkwall and the Gallows were, even worse than the Tower. Even though I was trying to bring someone who already loved and wanted me back in my life, with full approval, I was looking right at you and wondering why I'd ever gone for men who looked like him, like any of the men and women who'd taken me in the Circle. Justice did not agree. He thought I should love Karl, forgot that I was only sixteen and that I was vain and yes, I'll admit, a bit of a brat." I smiled down at Hawke. "You don't get to say it, though. You'd had me hooked by that first moment together, but Justice did want love in my life. It is something that the just fight for, one of the truest things, and he knew I lusted for you more than I'd ever lusted for him. He misinterpreted that as me not knowing the emotion at all, but he'd only ever seen unrequited love as it is. His last host... No, those memories, they're not mine, I shouldn't share them."

"So it's not that he finds your love life unimportant, it's that I'm not worthy of you."

"Keep bringing up my fetishes, maybe you'll convince him," I joked, but it fell flat. I wet my lips nervously, trying to stop shaking, when I felt his arms wrap around my shoulders. I moaned, sinking in to the warmth, leaning my head back to rub against his throat, to kiss and to touch whatever skin he'd let me. "Not even Justice could take it away from us if it were something returned, my love. And no, this won’t be enough, even if it were just us. I'd just ache more, remembering what I'd never have, and I'd, I'd sooner die then know there could be another night without you ever again, even with what little we've done."

Continuation here.