A Separate Path - Chapter Ten (Part Two)
Title: A Separate Path - Chapter Ten (Part Two)
Series: Dragon Age 2
Characters: Anders, Hawke, Varric, Merrill, Sebastian, Fenris, Aveline, Donnic
Pairings: Anders/Hawke, Aveline/Donnic
Rating: NC-17 (porn!)
It was funny, when Anders thought about it, and maybe a bit sad, how much he enjoyed the little things that came with being in a normal, open relationship, one that didn't involve any hiding. For example, having your lover lounge around wearing nothing but your shirt, generally after a bout of passionate lovemaking, was a frequent theme in the romances he'd read in the Circle. It wasn't something he'd ever experienced personally-- for years, it was uncommon for trysts to involve removing any more clothing that strictly necessary, and later, it was too intimate a gesture for the sort of one-night stands he sought out.
Which was why he was so bloody distracted by the sight of Emma, wearing his shirt, her back against the headboard and her legs tangled in the sheets. He'd been in a good mood when he'd gotten home from the clinic--successfully reattaching a severed limb tended to put him in high spirits-- and after dinner, he'd all but thrown her over his shoulder and carried her off to bed. Neither of them was exactly tired, though, and thus Emma was writing in her journal and Anders was trying to read one of the books she'd gotten him for his birthday. She'd managed to get a few of the more recent texts on magical healing smuggled in from Cumberland. After years without access to the literature, he’d fallen on the books like a starving man on bread.
Of course, now he could barely get through a paragraph on regeneration theory without his gaze drifting. Eventually, he gave up and marked his page and leaned over to set it on the nightstand before settling in for some enthusiastic ogling.
Emma glanced over at him and smirked. “Something I can help you with?”
He shook his head. “Nope. I'm good.” She chuckled and turned back to her journal. “What're you writing about?” he asked after a few minutes passed, filled with nothing but the scratching of charcoal on paper.
She held the book out to him. “You could read it, if you want.”
“Really?” Anders arched an eyebrow at her.
“Everyone else does.” She flipped back a few pages and turned it towards him. Two poorly drawn, though quite anatomically correct, stick figures were engaged in some sort of impossible-looking sex position in the top corner, accompanied by a note reading Just a thought! in Isabela's flowery writing. Farther down the page, someone had drawn brackets around a large paragraph and an arrow pointing to the note in the margin: All this happiness is so bland. Could one of you find an old flame and cause a jealous rage in the other? I need something to work with here!
He snickered. “Not sure I could read this, honestly,” he said, squinting at her handwriting. “Is this actually a language, or just some intricate code of symbols you've-ow!” He clapped a hand to his ear to keep her from flicking it again and stuck his tongue out at her.
Emma responded in kind and reclaimed her journal with a melodramatic huff. “You're lucky you're cute,” she teased.
“So if I ever lose my roguish good looks, I'm out on the street?”
“Well, obviously, why else would I have put up with you for...” She trailed off and flipped back through her journal. “Eleven months exactly,” she said, running her finger down a page towards the middle. “Next month's our one-year anniversary.”
Anders blinked and leaned back against the pillows. “Huh.” Eleven months. It didn't seem like it had been that long. “That makes this the longest relationship I've ever been in... by about two months.”
He could almost feel the hesitation before she asked. “Was that Karl?”
“Mm-hm.” He nodded and looked up at her. “What about you? What's your longest?”
Emma glanced at him sideways. “You don't mind hearing about that?”
“Nah,” he said with a shrug. “They're not here. We are.”
She grinned. “Fair enough.” Her gaze unfocused slightly as she thought. “Let's see, Reggie and I were together... fourteen, fifteen months? Something like that.”
“Who was he?”
Emma sighed and shrugged. “He was in the milita with me. Born and raised in Lothering, planned on taking over the family farm eventually. I'd more or less resigned myself to marrying him, though I don’t know how that was going to work without him finding out about Bethany.”
“Resigned?” he repeated. “That's not exactly ringing praise.”
“He was... a good man. Stable. But Lothering wasn't exactly bursting with eligible bachelors. Most everyone just settled.” She shook her head. “Then the Blight happened, I enlisted in the army, and he stayed in Lothering to look after his family.” Anders winced; she caught the look and shook her head. “He didn't die, actually. Mother tracked down a friend of a friend who'd heard from them, the whole family moved to Jader.”
“So you drifted apart, is what you're saying.”
“More or less,” she agreed with a grin.
“Was he your first?”
“No,” she said, smiling crookedly. “No, he wasn't. That was Ian.” She'd been in love with him; Anders could tell just from the way she said the name. “It was the summer I turned sixteen. He was a few years older than me, one of those itinerant farm hands that show up for a summer to help with the crops. We met in town, got to talking, taking long walks in the woods… not talking…”
Anders laughed. Emma smirked, absently tracing her fingers over the cover of her journal. “I’d convinced myself that I was in love with him, that we’d be together forever… and then the harvest came in, and he had to move on. Planned on heading south for fur trapping or something, I think. I was all set to run away with him, but he convinced me to stay, wait another year, until I was a bit older and he’d ask my father for my hand, all sorts of romantic drivel.”
He winced at the sudden bitterness in her voice. “He never came back,” Anders guessed.
“He never came back,” she said with a nod. “I was devastated. At first I was certain that something had happened to him, that he’d gotten hurt or killed, but it’s more likely that he just moved on to some other wide-eyed farmer’s daughter the next summer.” She shrugged. “I got my first love and my first heartbreak all in one package. Convenient, really.”
Anders pouted sympathetically and leaned over to kiss her shoulder. “And now here we are,” he murmured, shifting closer so he could trail kisses across her bare collarbone. His shirt was a little too big on her, and it left all sorts of alluring bits of skin exposed.
“Mm.” She tilted her head to the side, eyes fluttering closed, as he moved his mouth up her neck. “Here we are.”
He turned her face back towards him and captured her lips in a gentle kiss. She all but purred and pushed him down to the bed, her body pressed tightly against his. As he slid a hand across her back, Anders wondered vaguely how much trouble he’d be in if he stole all her shirts and replaced them with his. It’d be worth it.
--
Fenris laid his cards down and shot Varric an inquisitive look. The dwarf tilted his head to the side. “Four diamonds,” he said. “Blondie?”
Anders groaned and pushed the pile of coins towards Fenris, slumping forward onto the table. “I'm done,” he declared. “Done. Also, I hate you all.”
“No one's forcing you to play, Anders,” Fenris commented as he collected his winnings.
“You’re right,” he said, sitting up. “Merrill! Take my seat.” He pushed back from the table and stood. “Someone else can lose to Fenris for a while.”
Merrill beamed and bounded over to his chair. Anders headed for the assortment of bottles at the other end of the table, smirking when he heard the young elf ask what the rules were. He poured himself a glass of wine and glanced around Varric's suite. It was the first time they'd spent First Day in the Hanged Man, surprisingly enough-- most years, they'd gathered at the Hawke residence, whether it was a Lowtown apartment or the estate. But Leandra's absence was painfully obvious, especially this time of year, and when Varric offered to host the party, Emma had jumped on it.
The gathering was smaller, quieter, just a rotating game of diamondback and Emma's highly competitive games of chess. Aveline and Donnic were supposed to show up eventually, and Isabela hadn't been seen in months. Varric claimed he knew, somehow, that she was fine, just in hiding, away from Castillon. And probably away from all of us, Anders thought with a sigh. The whole day had just felt off-- everyone was acting like things were fine, like nothing was wrong and no one was missing, but they were all aware of the empty places in the room, the moments in conversation when someone else’s voice should have chimed in.
Anders shook his head. With Fenris around, it was dangerous for anyone else to start brooding too hard, lest the power of the angst tear a hole in the Veil and release a horde of demons. He took a drink of wine and wandered over to the chess game, leaning on the back of Emma's chair and surveying the board. Emma appeared to have the advantage, going by pieces captured, but Anders's knowledge of the game was amateur at best. She'd been trying to teach him some of the more involved strategies, but he tended to get bored and subsequently handsy. They had yet to finish a game.
Emma smiled up at him and plucked the glass from his hand. “Want me to refill yours?” he asked dryly as she took a large drink.
“No,” she replied. “What you've got is good.”
He rolled his eyes and took the glass back. “Who's winning?”
“Nobody's winning,” she said with a hint of exasperation-- she'd explained this particular philosophy to him before, after all. “There's no winning until it's over. Which it will be quite soon.”
Sebastian paused, his hand halfway over the board, and raised an eyebrow at her. “Pride goes before the fall,” he said. “You haven't won yet, my lady.”
“It's not pride; it's confidence,” she replied. “Also years of practice telling me that that--” Her hand shot out as soon as Sebastian placed his piece, sliding one of hers across the board, “--was a foolish move. Check.”
“You--” Sebastian scowled at the board, tracing paths in the air with his finger. Emma leaned back in her chair and snatched Anders's glass out of his hand for another drink.
Anders huffed out a melodramatic sigh and straightened up. “You keep that, then,” he said and took a step towards the table.
Emma grabbed his wrist and pulled him back over, returning the wine glass to his hand. “It's more fun when it's theft,” she said with a wink.
“And you say I'm impossible,” he muttered, returning to his position behind her chair. He watched as the game concluded, Emma successfully cornering Sebastian's king and flicking it over.
Sebastian chuckled and half-bowed to her. “Well played,” he said. “And with that, I must take my leave-- I am needed for tonight's services.” He glanced around the room as he stood up. “Will any of you be in attendance?”
“Against my religion, Choir Boy,” Varric said without rancor. “Sorry.”
“I'll pass,” Emma said, and Merrill shook her head, smiling apologetically.
“I'd prefer to start the year without getting arrested,” Anders put in lightly, and Sebastian winced. He couldn't quite hide a smirk at the man's discomfort.
Fenris shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“Depending on how badly he cleans us all out, I'd wager,” Varric put in, a bit grumpily.
“You could've quit too, y'know,” Anders said.
“I couldn't leave Daisy to get fleeced like that!”
“Wait, what do sheep have to do with it? I thought I understood the rules!”
Emma snickered, almost doubling over with suppressed laughter. Sebastian smiled and shook his head. “Thank you for having me.”
Everyone called their good-byes, some more friendly than others, and Sebastian headed for the door. He was about to open it when it swung open, nearly clobbering him in the face. Anders slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter as Aveline cautiously pushed the door open the rest of the way. “Oh, sorry,” she said, smiling.
“There you are,” Emma called. “We thought you'd ditched us!”
Aveline shook her head, still beaming, and stepped aside to let Donnic in. “No, we, ah...” She glanced at him and shrugged. “Just had something else to do.”
“Do you want to...?” Donnic asked, gesturing at the room.
“Go ahead.”
He smiled warmly at her and then turned back towards the room. “Ah, well, Aveline and I are getting married.”
There was a moment of silence, then Merrill squeaked and clapped her hands over her mouth. Emma launched herself out of her chair-- the sudden loss of a counterweight almost made Anders fall over-- and all but tackled Aveline in a hug. “That’s wonderful,” she said, stepping back from the guard captain. “I-I'm so happy for you both.”
Aveline flashed her a quick, almost sadsmile as some unspoken communication passed between the women. Before Anders could question it, though, Varric demanded that everyone join in toasting the newly engaged couple, “yes, even you, Choir Boy, get back here.”
Anders leaned against the wall, nursing his drink, watching as everyone else peppered the couple with questions, and tried not to feel quite so sad. He was happy for them, he really was; they were friends and he was glad things were going so well for them. But at the moment, all he could think of was how pleased Leandra would have been to see the woman she thought of as another daughter engaged, or of the affectionately raunchy teasing that should have been coming from Isabela. He missed them.
*
Emma wandered into their bedroom, humming to herself, obviously still more than a little drunk. Anders smirked and shook his head as he pulled off his coat and boots. “I'm glad she found someone,” Emma said abruptly. “Aveline, I mean. It makes me... feel a little better, I guess, about what happened.”
“To her first husband?” he asked. He knew Aveline had been married to a Templar-- no accounting for taste, apparently-- and that he'd died during their escape from Ferelden, but no details beyond that.
“Mm.” She nodded. “I made her kill him.” Anders blinked. “He'd been infected with the taint, and I could have... I could have done it. But I told her, you know, he's your husband, you make the choice. So she killed him and she has to live with it, and I... I don't know. I'm just glad she's found someone who makes her so happy.”
He walked up behind her and slid his arms around her waist, his chin on her shoulder. Your capacity for guilt is truly boundless, he thought, but he knew better than to say that aloud. “I'm glad for them too,” he said instead. It seemed safer.
Emma turned in his arms and looked up at him, her expression unreadable as she traced her fingers up his jaw. Anders let his eyes half-close and leaned into the touch. Her hand slid into his hair, toying with the loose strands that had escaped his ponytail; then her grip tightened abruptly and she pulled him down to her for an open, biting kiss. He groaned, fingers twitching on her back. She smiled against his lips, and that was all the warning her had before she spun them around and practically threw him onto the bed.
He caught himself on his elbows and grinned rakishly. Emma gave him a small, crooked smile and started to slowly undo the laces on her shirt. His breathing shallowed as she dropped it to the ground and moved her hands to her belt. When that hit the floor, he reached for the hem of his shirt, tugging it loose from his pants.
Almost before he could blink, she lunged forward and grabbed his wrists, pinning them to the bed. “I didn't say you could start yet,” she half-growled.
Ah. So it's going to be one of those nights. A half-smile of anticipation crossed his face, and he nodded once. She tightened her grip on his wrists for emphasis before releasing him. Anders licked his lips and scooted up the bed to lie back against the pillows, his eyes locked on her as she continued to slowly strip out of her clothes.
By the time she shimmied out of her smalls and crawled up the bed to cover his body with hers, his hands were white-knuckled in the sheets with the effort of not moving. She kissed him slowly, tongue sliding easily past his lips, and he could feel every inch of her through his clothes. “You can touch,” she murmured against his mouth, and he moaned, sliding his hands across her skin, fingers tracing over the curves and scars he knew by heart.
Emma tugged the leather band out of his hair-- she had a mild obsession with his hair, Anders had found, and whenever they were alone at home she almost inevitably ended up taking it down-- and raked her fingers through it before turning her attention to his clothes. She trailed her lips and fingers after the fabric as she peeled it away, seemingly dedicated to the task of kissing every inch of him. Anders let his head fall back and closed his eyes, already gasping for breath. Maker, but he loved it when she was like this. Though to be fair, he loved it when she was playful and flirty, or sweet and tender, or when she was writhing under him and begging him to take her--
She sank her teeth into his shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. Anders bit his lip to stifle a moan as she sucked at his throat. His eyes snapped open when she pulled away and brushed her fingers over his mouth, gently tugging his lip free. “None of that,” she murmured. “Not tonight. I want to hear you.” His near-silence was an old habit learned in the Circle, where being vocal during sex was a surefire way to earn a beating or a few days in solitary.
Emma nipped at his lower lip, hands sliding down his chest, and he gasped. “Good start,” she said, smirking. “Bet I can make you scream for me, though.”
Flames, if there was anyone in Thedas who could, it was probably her. Anders let out a low moan as she ducked her head to his chest, tracing her tongue over the lines of his tattoo before slowly making her way lower, trailing kisses as she went. He twisted his hands in the sheets when she settled herself between his legs, nuzzling at his inner thigh and tracing tantalizing patterns low on his stomach. “You're a blighted tease, you know that?” he rasped.
She chuckled against his skin, the vibrations doing terrible, wonderful things to him. “Learned from the best,” she replied with a wink. “Still... not going to get much of anything out of you like this, am I?” Before he could respond to the innuendo, she turned her head and dragged her tongue up the length of his cock.
Anders cried out in pleasure, his head jerking back against the bed, fighting the need to bite his lip again or bury his face in the pillow. Emma lapped and sucked at him, still holding him just on this side of not enough. He tangled one hand in her hair and gasped out broken, stuttered pleas until she finally had mercy on him, swirling her tongue around the head before slowly taking him in.
After more than a year together, she knew every trick that would reduce him to a whimpering, gasping mess, and she pulled out all of them, plying him with fingers and lips and tongue. He moaned in protest and opened his eyes when she pulled away suddenly. “Em...” he breathed, watching as she slid two fingers into her mouth. Her other hand gripped his hip almost hard enough to bruise. “D-Don't stop, please...”
“Wouldn't dream of it,” she said huskily as she pulled her slick fingers free. She slid her hand down between his legs, brushing against his balls before dipping lower, one finger gently tracing over him before slowly sliding inside at the same moment that she took his cock in her mouth again.
“OhholyfuckingAndraste,” he gasped, writhing against her, his hands scrabbling at the sheets. She just hummed around him, her free hand holding him still, thrusting into him in time with the movement of her mouth. Stars burst behind his eyelids when she added a second finger; he was vaguely aware that he was muttering a litany of curses and pleas, breath stuttering in his chest. He hit the edge and held himself there for a few heartbeats, and then came with a wordless cry, drawing in gasping lungfuls of air.
Emma eased her fingers free and wiped at her mouth with the back of her other hand before sliding back up towards him, looking unrepentantly smug. Anders grabbed her shoulder and yanked her towards him for a sloppy, open kiss, groaning at the taste of himself on her. She smirked at him when they parted and stretched out beside him, pressing lazy kisses to his neck and shoulders. He just lay there, blinking at the ceiling, wondering vaguely if blood would ever return to his brain.
After a few moments, Emma reached out and grabbed his hand, deliberately placing it between his legs. “Round two,” she informed him with a crooked smile.
“Mrrggh,” he replied. Magic required far more concentration than he was currently capable of. When he failed to start glowing in a timely manner, Emma huffed out an annoyed breath and bit his ear. He yelped and half-heartedly glared at her.
“C'mon, you take too long otherwise,” she said, poking him in the ribs.
He rolled his eyes. “Most people would say ten minutes is a fantastic recovery time,” he muttered and cast the rejuvenation spell.
“And I say that thirty seconds is even better,” she replied, and then pounced on him, her hands in his hair again as she kissed him. Anders twined one leg around hers and tried to roll them over; Emma pushed him back into the mattress and grabbed his wrists, pinning them down on either side of his head. “Nope,” she told him when they came up for air.
He blinked up at her, then shrugged and disentangled his leg from hers. “Okay,” he agreed. If she wanted to hold him down and ravish him senseless again, he wasn't about to argue.
Emma grinned and went after his neck, adding to what had to be an already spectacular collection of bruises. He twisted his wrists in an attempt to free them, needing to have his hands on her, and whined a bit when she tightened her grip. She chuckled against his skin and relented, releasing one arm so she could twist her fingers in his hair. Sparks crackled in the air around his hand as he slid it down her back; she gasped and ground her hips against him.
Anders whimpered when she pulled away abruptly, pushing herself up to her knees. “C'mere,” she said and tugged at his shoulder until he sat up. He followed her lead, letting her move him around until he was sitting on his folded legs and she was straddling him, her arms twined around his neck as she kissed him. He ghosted his hands down her back, just barely touching, letting electricity arc between his palms and her skin.
“Mm.” She purred as she drew back, looking down at him, her eyes glassy with lust. “Mine.”
He smirked at her and leaned forward to kiss her collarbone. “Is that so?”
“Mm-hm.” One hand slid over his shoulder to settle on his chest, pressed over his heart. “Mine,” she repeated.
The smirk shifted into a soft smile. “All yours,” he murmured against her lips. He felt her smiling back as she shifted position and sank onto him. Anders let his head fall back as she rode him, her body moving against his in long, slow strokes. He couldn't keep his hands still, sliding his palms across her back and breasts and stomach. She practically growled when his fingers trailed lower, stroking at her clit. Emma caught the back of his head and jerked him towards her, crushing her mouth to his, moaning out her orgasm against his lips. He dropped his forehead to her shoulder when she released him, rocking up into her as she pulsed around him, and came again, gasping.
They stayed like that for a moment, breathing hard, arms around each other, both trembling slightly in the aftermath. Then Emma eased herself off him and tumbled to the side, collapsing to the bed with an incoherent mumble. Anders followed suit, stretching languidly. “Good way to start the year,” he commented once he'd caught his breath.
“I'll say.” Emma propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at him, and traced her finger over his shoulders. “Oh, dear,” she murmured, laughing a bit. “You'll, ah, probably want to heal these before you go to the clinic tomorrow.”
“That bad?”
“You look like you've been mauled,” she told him, sounding a bit apologetic.
He shrugged and grinned. “A not entirely inaccurate description.”
Emma laughed and leaned down, dragging the blankets up over them before curling up against his side, her head on his chest. Anders pressed a kiss to her hair. “Mine.”
“Yep,” she agreed sleepily. “All yours.”
Series: Dragon Age 2
Characters: Anders, Hawke, Varric, Merrill, Sebastian, Fenris, Aveline, Donnic
Pairings: Anders/Hawke, Aveline/Donnic
Rating: NC-17 (porn!)
It was funny, when Anders thought about it, and maybe a bit sad, how much he enjoyed the little things that came with being in a normal, open relationship, one that didn't involve any hiding. For example, having your lover lounge around wearing nothing but your shirt, generally after a bout of passionate lovemaking, was a frequent theme in the romances he'd read in the Circle. It wasn't something he'd ever experienced personally-- for years, it was uncommon for trysts to involve removing any more clothing that strictly necessary, and later, it was too intimate a gesture for the sort of one-night stands he sought out.
Which was why he was so bloody distracted by the sight of Emma, wearing his shirt, her back against the headboard and her legs tangled in the sheets. He'd been in a good mood when he'd gotten home from the clinic--successfully reattaching a severed limb tended to put him in high spirits-- and after dinner, he'd all but thrown her over his shoulder and carried her off to bed. Neither of them was exactly tired, though, and thus Emma was writing in her journal and Anders was trying to read one of the books she'd gotten him for his birthday. She'd managed to get a few of the more recent texts on magical healing smuggled in from Cumberland. After years without access to the literature, he’d fallen on the books like a starving man on bread.
Of course, now he could barely get through a paragraph on regeneration theory without his gaze drifting. Eventually, he gave up and marked his page and leaned over to set it on the nightstand before settling in for some enthusiastic ogling.
Emma glanced over at him and smirked. “Something I can help you with?”
He shook his head. “Nope. I'm good.” She chuckled and turned back to her journal. “What're you writing about?” he asked after a few minutes passed, filled with nothing but the scratching of charcoal on paper.
She held the book out to him. “You could read it, if you want.”
“Really?” Anders arched an eyebrow at her.
“Everyone else does.” She flipped back a few pages and turned it towards him. Two poorly drawn, though quite anatomically correct, stick figures were engaged in some sort of impossible-looking sex position in the top corner, accompanied by a note reading Just a thought! in Isabela's flowery writing. Farther down the page, someone had drawn brackets around a large paragraph and an arrow pointing to the note in the margin: All this happiness is so bland. Could one of you find an old flame and cause a jealous rage in the other? I need something to work with here!
He snickered. “Not sure I could read this, honestly,” he said, squinting at her handwriting. “Is this actually a language, or just some intricate code of symbols you've-ow!” He clapped a hand to his ear to keep her from flicking it again and stuck his tongue out at her.
Emma responded in kind and reclaimed her journal with a melodramatic huff. “You're lucky you're cute,” she teased.
“So if I ever lose my roguish good looks, I'm out on the street?”
“Well, obviously, why else would I have put up with you for...” She trailed off and flipped back through her journal. “Eleven months exactly,” she said, running her finger down a page towards the middle. “Next month's our one-year anniversary.”
Anders blinked and leaned back against the pillows. “Huh.” Eleven months. It didn't seem like it had been that long. “That makes this the longest relationship I've ever been in... by about two months.”
He could almost feel the hesitation before she asked. “Was that Karl?”
“Mm-hm.” He nodded and looked up at her. “What about you? What's your longest?”
Emma glanced at him sideways. “You don't mind hearing about that?”
“Nah,” he said with a shrug. “They're not here. We are.”
She grinned. “Fair enough.” Her gaze unfocused slightly as she thought. “Let's see, Reggie and I were together... fourteen, fifteen months? Something like that.”
“Who was he?”
Emma sighed and shrugged. “He was in the milita with me. Born and raised in Lothering, planned on taking over the family farm eventually. I'd more or less resigned myself to marrying him, though I don’t know how that was going to work without him finding out about Bethany.”
“Resigned?” he repeated. “That's not exactly ringing praise.”
“He was... a good man. Stable. But Lothering wasn't exactly bursting with eligible bachelors. Most everyone just settled.” She shook her head. “Then the Blight happened, I enlisted in the army, and he stayed in Lothering to look after his family.” Anders winced; she caught the look and shook her head. “He didn't die, actually. Mother tracked down a friend of a friend who'd heard from them, the whole family moved to Jader.”
“So you drifted apart, is what you're saying.”
“More or less,” she agreed with a grin.
“Was he your first?”
“No,” she said, smiling crookedly. “No, he wasn't. That was Ian.” She'd been in love with him; Anders could tell just from the way she said the name. “It was the summer I turned sixteen. He was a few years older than me, one of those itinerant farm hands that show up for a summer to help with the crops. We met in town, got to talking, taking long walks in the woods… not talking…”
Anders laughed. Emma smirked, absently tracing her fingers over the cover of her journal. “I’d convinced myself that I was in love with him, that we’d be together forever… and then the harvest came in, and he had to move on. Planned on heading south for fur trapping or something, I think. I was all set to run away with him, but he convinced me to stay, wait another year, until I was a bit older and he’d ask my father for my hand, all sorts of romantic drivel.”
He winced at the sudden bitterness in her voice. “He never came back,” Anders guessed.
“He never came back,” she said with a nod. “I was devastated. At first I was certain that something had happened to him, that he’d gotten hurt or killed, but it’s more likely that he just moved on to some other wide-eyed farmer’s daughter the next summer.” She shrugged. “I got my first love and my first heartbreak all in one package. Convenient, really.”
Anders pouted sympathetically and leaned over to kiss her shoulder. “And now here we are,” he murmured, shifting closer so he could trail kisses across her bare collarbone. His shirt was a little too big on her, and it left all sorts of alluring bits of skin exposed.
“Mm.” She tilted her head to the side, eyes fluttering closed, as he moved his mouth up her neck. “Here we are.”
He turned her face back towards him and captured her lips in a gentle kiss. She all but purred and pushed him down to the bed, her body pressed tightly against his. As he slid a hand across her back, Anders wondered vaguely how much trouble he’d be in if he stole all her shirts and replaced them with his. It’d be worth it.
--
Fenris laid his cards down and shot Varric an inquisitive look. The dwarf tilted his head to the side. “Four diamonds,” he said. “Blondie?”
Anders groaned and pushed the pile of coins towards Fenris, slumping forward onto the table. “I'm done,” he declared. “Done. Also, I hate you all.”
“No one's forcing you to play, Anders,” Fenris commented as he collected his winnings.
“You’re right,” he said, sitting up. “Merrill! Take my seat.” He pushed back from the table and stood. “Someone else can lose to Fenris for a while.”
Merrill beamed and bounded over to his chair. Anders headed for the assortment of bottles at the other end of the table, smirking when he heard the young elf ask what the rules were. He poured himself a glass of wine and glanced around Varric's suite. It was the first time they'd spent First Day in the Hanged Man, surprisingly enough-- most years, they'd gathered at the Hawke residence, whether it was a Lowtown apartment or the estate. But Leandra's absence was painfully obvious, especially this time of year, and when Varric offered to host the party, Emma had jumped on it.
The gathering was smaller, quieter, just a rotating game of diamondback and Emma's highly competitive games of chess. Aveline and Donnic were supposed to show up eventually, and Isabela hadn't been seen in months. Varric claimed he knew, somehow, that she was fine, just in hiding, away from Castillon. And probably away from all of us, Anders thought with a sigh. The whole day had just felt off-- everyone was acting like things were fine, like nothing was wrong and no one was missing, but they were all aware of the empty places in the room, the moments in conversation when someone else’s voice should have chimed in.
Anders shook his head. With Fenris around, it was dangerous for anyone else to start brooding too hard, lest the power of the angst tear a hole in the Veil and release a horde of demons. He took a drink of wine and wandered over to the chess game, leaning on the back of Emma's chair and surveying the board. Emma appeared to have the advantage, going by pieces captured, but Anders's knowledge of the game was amateur at best. She'd been trying to teach him some of the more involved strategies, but he tended to get bored and subsequently handsy. They had yet to finish a game.
Emma smiled up at him and plucked the glass from his hand. “Want me to refill yours?” he asked dryly as she took a large drink.
“No,” she replied. “What you've got is good.”
He rolled his eyes and took the glass back. “Who's winning?”
“Nobody's winning,” she said with a hint of exasperation-- she'd explained this particular philosophy to him before, after all. “There's no winning until it's over. Which it will be quite soon.”
Sebastian paused, his hand halfway over the board, and raised an eyebrow at her. “Pride goes before the fall,” he said. “You haven't won yet, my lady.”
“It's not pride; it's confidence,” she replied. “Also years of practice telling me that that--” Her hand shot out as soon as Sebastian placed his piece, sliding one of hers across the board, “--was a foolish move. Check.”
“You--” Sebastian scowled at the board, tracing paths in the air with his finger. Emma leaned back in her chair and snatched Anders's glass out of his hand for another drink.
Anders huffed out a melodramatic sigh and straightened up. “You keep that, then,” he said and took a step towards the table.
Emma grabbed his wrist and pulled him back over, returning the wine glass to his hand. “It's more fun when it's theft,” she said with a wink.
“And you say I'm impossible,” he muttered, returning to his position behind her chair. He watched as the game concluded, Emma successfully cornering Sebastian's king and flicking it over.
Sebastian chuckled and half-bowed to her. “Well played,” he said. “And with that, I must take my leave-- I am needed for tonight's services.” He glanced around the room as he stood up. “Will any of you be in attendance?”
“Against my religion, Choir Boy,” Varric said without rancor. “Sorry.”
“I'll pass,” Emma said, and Merrill shook her head, smiling apologetically.
“I'd prefer to start the year without getting arrested,” Anders put in lightly, and Sebastian winced. He couldn't quite hide a smirk at the man's discomfort.
Fenris shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“Depending on how badly he cleans us all out, I'd wager,” Varric put in, a bit grumpily.
“You could've quit too, y'know,” Anders said.
“I couldn't leave Daisy to get fleeced like that!”
“Wait, what do sheep have to do with it? I thought I understood the rules!”
Emma snickered, almost doubling over with suppressed laughter. Sebastian smiled and shook his head. “Thank you for having me.”
Everyone called their good-byes, some more friendly than others, and Sebastian headed for the door. He was about to open it when it swung open, nearly clobbering him in the face. Anders slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter as Aveline cautiously pushed the door open the rest of the way. “Oh, sorry,” she said, smiling.
“There you are,” Emma called. “We thought you'd ditched us!”
Aveline shook her head, still beaming, and stepped aside to let Donnic in. “No, we, ah...” She glanced at him and shrugged. “Just had something else to do.”
“Do you want to...?” Donnic asked, gesturing at the room.
“Go ahead.”
He smiled warmly at her and then turned back towards the room. “Ah, well, Aveline and I are getting married.”
There was a moment of silence, then Merrill squeaked and clapped her hands over her mouth. Emma launched herself out of her chair-- the sudden loss of a counterweight almost made Anders fall over-- and all but tackled Aveline in a hug. “That’s wonderful,” she said, stepping back from the guard captain. “I-I'm so happy for you both.”
Aveline flashed her a quick, almost sadsmile as some unspoken communication passed between the women. Before Anders could question it, though, Varric demanded that everyone join in toasting the newly engaged couple, “yes, even you, Choir Boy, get back here.”
Anders leaned against the wall, nursing his drink, watching as everyone else peppered the couple with questions, and tried not to feel quite so sad. He was happy for them, he really was; they were friends and he was glad things were going so well for them. But at the moment, all he could think of was how pleased Leandra would have been to see the woman she thought of as another daughter engaged, or of the affectionately raunchy teasing that should have been coming from Isabela. He missed them.
*
Emma wandered into their bedroom, humming to herself, obviously still more than a little drunk. Anders smirked and shook his head as he pulled off his coat and boots. “I'm glad she found someone,” Emma said abruptly. “Aveline, I mean. It makes me... feel a little better, I guess, about what happened.”
“To her first husband?” he asked. He knew Aveline had been married to a Templar-- no accounting for taste, apparently-- and that he'd died during their escape from Ferelden, but no details beyond that.
“Mm.” She nodded. “I made her kill him.” Anders blinked. “He'd been infected with the taint, and I could have... I could have done it. But I told her, you know, he's your husband, you make the choice. So she killed him and she has to live with it, and I... I don't know. I'm just glad she's found someone who makes her so happy.”
He walked up behind her and slid his arms around her waist, his chin on her shoulder. Your capacity for guilt is truly boundless, he thought, but he knew better than to say that aloud. “I'm glad for them too,” he said instead. It seemed safer.
Emma turned in his arms and looked up at him, her expression unreadable as she traced her fingers up his jaw. Anders let his eyes half-close and leaned into the touch. Her hand slid into his hair, toying with the loose strands that had escaped his ponytail; then her grip tightened abruptly and she pulled him down to her for an open, biting kiss. He groaned, fingers twitching on her back. She smiled against his lips, and that was all the warning her had before she spun them around and practically threw him onto the bed.
He caught himself on his elbows and grinned rakishly. Emma gave him a small, crooked smile and started to slowly undo the laces on her shirt. His breathing shallowed as she dropped it to the ground and moved her hands to her belt. When that hit the floor, he reached for the hem of his shirt, tugging it loose from his pants.
Almost before he could blink, she lunged forward and grabbed his wrists, pinning them to the bed. “I didn't say you could start yet,” she half-growled.
Ah. So it's going to be one of those nights. A half-smile of anticipation crossed his face, and he nodded once. She tightened her grip on his wrists for emphasis before releasing him. Anders licked his lips and scooted up the bed to lie back against the pillows, his eyes locked on her as she continued to slowly strip out of her clothes.
By the time she shimmied out of her smalls and crawled up the bed to cover his body with hers, his hands were white-knuckled in the sheets with the effort of not moving. She kissed him slowly, tongue sliding easily past his lips, and he could feel every inch of her through his clothes. “You can touch,” she murmured against his mouth, and he moaned, sliding his hands across her skin, fingers tracing over the curves and scars he knew by heart.
Emma tugged the leather band out of his hair-- she had a mild obsession with his hair, Anders had found, and whenever they were alone at home she almost inevitably ended up taking it down-- and raked her fingers through it before turning her attention to his clothes. She trailed her lips and fingers after the fabric as she peeled it away, seemingly dedicated to the task of kissing every inch of him. Anders let his head fall back and closed his eyes, already gasping for breath. Maker, but he loved it when she was like this. Though to be fair, he loved it when she was playful and flirty, or sweet and tender, or when she was writhing under him and begging him to take her--
She sank her teeth into his shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. Anders bit his lip to stifle a moan as she sucked at his throat. His eyes snapped open when she pulled away and brushed her fingers over his mouth, gently tugging his lip free. “None of that,” she murmured. “Not tonight. I want to hear you.” His near-silence was an old habit learned in the Circle, where being vocal during sex was a surefire way to earn a beating or a few days in solitary.
Emma nipped at his lower lip, hands sliding down his chest, and he gasped. “Good start,” she said, smirking. “Bet I can make you scream for me, though.”
Flames, if there was anyone in Thedas who could, it was probably her. Anders let out a low moan as she ducked her head to his chest, tracing her tongue over the lines of his tattoo before slowly making her way lower, trailing kisses as she went. He twisted his hands in the sheets when she settled herself between his legs, nuzzling at his inner thigh and tracing tantalizing patterns low on his stomach. “You're a blighted tease, you know that?” he rasped.
She chuckled against his skin, the vibrations doing terrible, wonderful things to him. “Learned from the best,” she replied with a wink. “Still... not going to get much of anything out of you like this, am I?” Before he could respond to the innuendo, she turned her head and dragged her tongue up the length of his cock.
Anders cried out in pleasure, his head jerking back against the bed, fighting the need to bite his lip again or bury his face in the pillow. Emma lapped and sucked at him, still holding him just on this side of not enough. He tangled one hand in her hair and gasped out broken, stuttered pleas until she finally had mercy on him, swirling her tongue around the head before slowly taking him in.
After more than a year together, she knew every trick that would reduce him to a whimpering, gasping mess, and she pulled out all of them, plying him with fingers and lips and tongue. He moaned in protest and opened his eyes when she pulled away suddenly. “Em...” he breathed, watching as she slid two fingers into her mouth. Her other hand gripped his hip almost hard enough to bruise. “D-Don't stop, please...”
“Wouldn't dream of it,” she said huskily as she pulled her slick fingers free. She slid her hand down between his legs, brushing against his balls before dipping lower, one finger gently tracing over him before slowly sliding inside at the same moment that she took his cock in her mouth again.
“OhholyfuckingAndraste,” he gasped, writhing against her, his hands scrabbling at the sheets. She just hummed around him, her free hand holding him still, thrusting into him in time with the movement of her mouth. Stars burst behind his eyelids when she added a second finger; he was vaguely aware that he was muttering a litany of curses and pleas, breath stuttering in his chest. He hit the edge and held himself there for a few heartbeats, and then came with a wordless cry, drawing in gasping lungfuls of air.
Emma eased her fingers free and wiped at her mouth with the back of her other hand before sliding back up towards him, looking unrepentantly smug. Anders grabbed her shoulder and yanked her towards him for a sloppy, open kiss, groaning at the taste of himself on her. She smirked at him when they parted and stretched out beside him, pressing lazy kisses to his neck and shoulders. He just lay there, blinking at the ceiling, wondering vaguely if blood would ever return to his brain.
After a few moments, Emma reached out and grabbed his hand, deliberately placing it between his legs. “Round two,” she informed him with a crooked smile.
“Mrrggh,” he replied. Magic required far more concentration than he was currently capable of. When he failed to start glowing in a timely manner, Emma huffed out an annoyed breath and bit his ear. He yelped and half-heartedly glared at her.
“C'mon, you take too long otherwise,” she said, poking him in the ribs.
He rolled his eyes. “Most people would say ten minutes is a fantastic recovery time,” he muttered and cast the rejuvenation spell.
“And I say that thirty seconds is even better,” she replied, and then pounced on him, her hands in his hair again as she kissed him. Anders twined one leg around hers and tried to roll them over; Emma pushed him back into the mattress and grabbed his wrists, pinning them down on either side of his head. “Nope,” she told him when they came up for air.
He blinked up at her, then shrugged and disentangled his leg from hers. “Okay,” he agreed. If she wanted to hold him down and ravish him senseless again, he wasn't about to argue.
Emma grinned and went after his neck, adding to what had to be an already spectacular collection of bruises. He twisted his wrists in an attempt to free them, needing to have his hands on her, and whined a bit when she tightened her grip. She chuckled against his skin and relented, releasing one arm so she could twist her fingers in his hair. Sparks crackled in the air around his hand as he slid it down her back; she gasped and ground her hips against him.
Anders whimpered when she pulled away abruptly, pushing herself up to her knees. “C'mere,” she said and tugged at his shoulder until he sat up. He followed her lead, letting her move him around until he was sitting on his folded legs and she was straddling him, her arms twined around his neck as she kissed him. He ghosted his hands down her back, just barely touching, letting electricity arc between his palms and her skin.
“Mm.” She purred as she drew back, looking down at him, her eyes glassy with lust. “Mine.”
He smirked at her and leaned forward to kiss her collarbone. “Is that so?”
“Mm-hm.” One hand slid over his shoulder to settle on his chest, pressed over his heart. “Mine,” she repeated.
The smirk shifted into a soft smile. “All yours,” he murmured against her lips. He felt her smiling back as she shifted position and sank onto him. Anders let his head fall back as she rode him, her body moving against his in long, slow strokes. He couldn't keep his hands still, sliding his palms across her back and breasts and stomach. She practically growled when his fingers trailed lower, stroking at her clit. Emma caught the back of his head and jerked him towards her, crushing her mouth to his, moaning out her orgasm against his lips. He dropped his forehead to her shoulder when she released him, rocking up into her as she pulsed around him, and came again, gasping.
They stayed like that for a moment, breathing hard, arms around each other, both trembling slightly in the aftermath. Then Emma eased herself off him and tumbled to the side, collapsing to the bed with an incoherent mumble. Anders followed suit, stretching languidly. “Good way to start the year,” he commented once he'd caught his breath.
“I'll say.” Emma propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at him, and traced her finger over his shoulders. “Oh, dear,” she murmured, laughing a bit. “You'll, ah, probably want to heal these before you go to the clinic tomorrow.”
“That bad?”
“You look like you've been mauled,” she told him, sounding a bit apologetic.
He shrugged and grinned. “A not entirely inaccurate description.”
Emma laughed and leaned down, dragging the blankets up over them before curling up against his side, her head on his chest. Anders pressed a kiss to her hair. “Mine.”
“Yep,” she agreed sleepily. “All yours.”