Yet another kinkmeme fill.
WARNING: This story is a GRAPHIC representation of a homosexual relationship between MALE Hawke and Fenris.
Just a note to readers looking for F!Hawke/Fenris: I switch it up all the time. Stay tuned for something relatively soon.
"Okay," said Carver, wiping the sweat from his brow. "That's good. I'm going to teach you one more thing, and then I'll deem your amateur Templar training complete." He grinned widely at Fenris. The elf slowly stood from his combat stance and returned his sword to its scabbard across his shoulders. Around him, shouting and the clanging of metal on metal rang off the walls of the Templar training ground.
"What's next?" he asked. Carver beckoned him closer with an exaggerated wave of his hand.
"We have to do this in the Gallows. We need a mage."
Fenris's lip curled. "A mage?" he hissed. "I thought the point of these powers was to control mages, and now we need one to perform them?"
With a laugh, Carver's broad hand clapped onto his back. Unprepared, it made the ex-slave stumble slightly. The youngest Hawke began to walk him toward the Circle's tower with a not quite gentle push. He leaned in conspiratorially as they made their way down a nearby stone corridor, passing the First Enchanter without even looking up. "We don't need a mage to make it work," he said in a harsh whisper. "We need a mage to check if it worked. This ability only affects mages."
A sharp nod made white hair flick up and down. An ability that only affected mages was exactly what he wanted to learn. It had been what he was hoping for when Carver and his brother had flooded into his house a week before with the news that Meredith had approved of him learning a few Templar techniques. Since they were used exclusively to dampen magic, she had decided that they could do nothing but help the Templar cause. Hawke, a mage himself, had watched without saying a word as his brother explained some the exciting things he would be learning and the times and places they would meet. Understandably, his lover was not to be involved with the training, and Fenris had not seen him in over a week. It made his chest ache in a way he tried not to acknowledge. He pushed the thought from his mind and refocused as they entered the mage's training ground. "What is it you're going to teach me?"
"Silence," Carver said with a pleased smile. "It cuts off a mage's access to magic for about twenty seconds. It's perfect to cast it as you charge at them, so they can't cast shields."
"Or use force magic," Fenris replied, remembering how Hawke bent the laws of physics to his will to throw enemies from him or draw them together even as they tried to scramble away and slow the flow of time, so the Blade of Mercy at his back could cut through them before they could react. Twenty seconds could be an eternity on the battlefield.
"Right! So wait here. I'm getting us a mage." The young Templar strode away, his walk reminiscent of Hawke's, a sure stride that emanated confidence and egotism. Fenris watched as he approached a vaguely familiar mage, her sharp, black facial tattoo pulled at some old memory, years ago on the Wounded Coast. She made a scandalized face as Carver spoke to her, then nodded angrily and followed him. When she saw whom they were headed toward, she stopped short and balked.
"I have to work with him?" she screeched. Fenris sneered in response.
"Grace," Carver said gently, hands out in a placating gesture, "think of it this way: if he doesn't do it right, you get to hit him with a fireball."
"That's true," she mused. "Fine."
Ignoring her completely, Fenris turned to his instructor. "Can we get on with this?"
"Yeah, yeah. I'm getting to it." He sunk down into a combat stance, arm extended toward the impatiently waiting mage. "First, make sure you have enough lyrium in your system to execute the technique. It takes up a lot." He glanced down at the elf's lightly glowing markings, then up to meet his angry glare. "Right," he stumbled, "Okay. So gather all your dampening energy together. Envision it swirling in your palm. Then, when you're ready, launch it at the target. Think of it like an extension of your hand, and grab the mage's throat. You are trying to temporarily block the power of the Fade from reaching them. Make sense?"
"Show me," Fenris requested, nodding his head in understanding.
"Okay, Grace! Try to hit me with a fireball." With a wicked grin, the mage immediately began her spell. Before she could get two words out, however, energy flew from Carver's hand with a small pop. Grace staggered, and the magic aura around her dissipated. "Try again!" he yelled.
"I can't, you ass!" she shouted back.
Carver snapped up with a proud smile. "It's as easy as that. Want to try it?"
"Indeed." His tight leather leggings creaked as he eased down into position. His eyes closed, and behind them, a scene emerged. They were on the streets of Hightown. It was just him and Hawke, side by side. Attackers emerged from all sides, blood mages. Reaching back, Fenris drew his massive broadsword, a gift from the man he followed without hesitation. Its weight was comforting in his hand. There were mages all around them; everywhere he turned, he was confronted with the uncomfortable tingle of their magic in the air. He drew on the dampening energy within him as he had been practicing for the past week. He felt it pull at his markings from the inside, and he tried to center that energy in his free hand. He imagined it a glowing blue ball of energy swirling beneath his fingers, sparking as it contacted the lyrium etched into his exposed palm. There was a mage nearby, her face twisted as she raised her hands to attack his lover's left flank.
"Okay, Grace, do it!" Carver's yell snapped open his eyes.
"Gladly!" She moved to call a fireball into being.
Faster than lighting, energy burst forward from his hand with a bang. Grace flew backward, colliding with a stone wall. "Holy shit, Fenris!" Carver cried, "That was awesome!" He hurried toward the downed mage to help her to her feet. "How do you feel?" he asked, more anxious to see the effects of the spell than to check on her wellbeing.
"What the fuck did you do to me?" She thrashed out of his hold and fled in the direction they had come.
Carver whistled long and low. "That was a mighty powerful spell, Broody." Fenris looked down at his hand, opening and closing the fingers, and grunted in reply.
Grace had gone to find the First Enchanter who had requested the same spell be performed on him. Much to everyone's surprise, most especially Fenris's, it had the same effect, blowing Orsino back into the wall. He stood, shaking his head to clear it, and called upon his magic. There was nothing. Emptiness he told them, instead of the endless font that he normally reached into. It took thirty minutes for the powerful mage's magic to return.
"It's an ability I have never seen put into practice," he eyed his fellow elf and the intricate vines of magical metal that lined his skin. "It requires the presence of too much lyrium. It's much stronger than Silence, stronger than Lingering Silence. It's called Lasting Silence. Depending on the power of the mage, it can cut their connection to the Fade for as little as half an hour or," he glanced at Grace who was fuming nearby, "as long as days."
Carver let out a sharp bark of laughter and clapped the stunned warrior on the back again, quoting in a bad imitation of Varric, "And so the apprentice surpasses his master."
Hawke was waiting for him when he returned, lounging in the comfortable, threadbare chair Fenris favored, reading a book in the firelight. He looked up as the elf padded lightly into the room. His warm, honey-colored eyes and the small hint of a smile on his lips sent shivers up his lover's spine. "How did your training go?" His voice wrapped around the elf, teasingly caressed the sensitive shells of his ears.
"According to your brother, I'm a natural." He leaned his weapon against the wall and began removing the metal pieces of his armor.
"I knew you would be." Hawke rose from his chair to watch the elf undress. "You're adept at everything you try. Three years ago, you didn't even know your letters, and now look at you," he gestured with the book still in his hand, "reading ancient philosophy."
Fenris blushed under the praise. "I don't think you realize just how adept I truly am." He turned toward Hawke in his tunic and leggings. "I performed a technique that they had never witnessed before: Lasting Silence."
Hawke bounded over to him, dropping the book. He grabbed the elf's upper arms. "Really? That's incredible!"
"You've heard of it?"
"I've read about it. How long did you silence your target?"
Fenris gazed at his excited face in bewilderment. "Orsino for about half an hour. Grace was still silenced when we left. They said it could be days."
Hawke beamed at him. It was an expression the stone-visaged man only made in his presence, and only once in a great while. "Orsino is a very strong mage. Almost as strong as I am."
The elf chuckled lightly in his grasp. "Almost?"
"That's what I said isn't it? He's the best they could get their manacles on. I'm the best there is."
A part of him he tried to suppress in Hawke's presence clawed at the edges of his brain. He was a powerful mage, more powerful than Danarius, more powerful than the First Enchanter. He had struck down every enemy in his path, bent the laws of time and space to his will, and Fenris was held in his grip, both literally and figuratively. One word from the man, one icy glare in a foe's direction and they fell by his loyal warrior's hand. He wanted nothing more than to please and protect this unimaginably dangerous man. It was terrifying to think of the control the mage held over him, of how willingly he submitted to it. He knew that in single combat against him, he would be destroyed without ever getting close enough to strike. Without his magic though, things would be different. Hawke's hold was firm, but he'd easily be able to get out of it. He could kill the man who was victorious against the Arishok in a one-on-one battle as quickly as he pleased in any number of ways now. A thought occurred to him. "Did you know I would be able to do this when you asked Carver to train me?"
Hawke released him and stepped back a bit. "Yes. I didn't know you'd learn a such a high-level technique, but I had hoped. You're very talented, you know." He carded his fingers though bone white hair.
Fenris caught his hand by the wrist and stared seriously into his eyes. "I can cut off your magic now," he whispered fiercely. "I can do that anytime I want. Doesn't that frighten you?"
"Should it?" he asked, leaning in closer to breathe the words into a delicate, pointed ear, pinning their hands between their chests.
Fenris pushed him back, and he staggered with the unexpected force. "I'm serious! Look at you! How could you defend yourself against me without magic?" The elf circled like a predator, growing louder and angrier with each word he spat. "This training gave me power over you! You're helpless against me now!" He stared at the bigger man, who suddenly seemed smaller under this realization. His breath came out in pants.
Hawke, for his part, calmly watched the enraged man he loved seethe in his direction. He knew the anger stemmed from confusion and insecurity. He had been prepared for a confrontation like this. It was why he was waiting. "Take it," he whispered.
Fenris stepped back as if stung. "What?"
"Hit me with Lasting Silence. Don't hold back." He spread his legs and crouched slightly to brace himself.
"You iwant/i me to silence you?" His brows twisted in confoundment. "Why?"
"Do it," he commanded in a booming voice, and Fenris complied in annoyance. The blast of energy knocked the man back on his ass. He looked up into olive green eyes that swirled and roiled with conflicting emotions. With a deep breath, he pulled with all his might at the font of magic that bubbled deep within him and came up with nothing. Not the smallest drop, not the feeling of it just beyond his reach, nothing. He let out it breath in a surprised sigh. "Amazing," he whispered in awe. "How do you feel?"
One emotion swelled in those eyes, one that made Hawke's knees weaker than having his magic torn from him: desire. "You're at my mercy now, mage," his gruff voice purred. "Tell me, how do you feel?"
"Excited," he admitted. Already, his cock had begun to harder under his robes.
"Mmmmmm," the elf leaned down to be on his eye-level. "Good. Now, do exactly as I say." His naked fingers drifted up the course hairs of Hawke's dark beard into his hair. He fisted the strands fiercely. "Or there will be consequences. Understand?"
"Yes," he practically moaned.
Fenris stood and unlaced his leggings, letting his half-hard cock out of its confines. His lover lifted to his knees to rub his cheek against it, causing it to darken and swell. The scratchiness of Hawke's beard on his sensitive skin sent prickles all the way up to his cheeks. "Suck it," he commanded and threw his head back in pleasure as a hot mouth immediately swallowed him whole.
Hawke sucked furiously, bobbing his head back and forth, letting the soft tip of Fenris's member smash into the back of his throat. He groaned around it, running his hands up and down those tight leather leggings. It was incredible as always but even more so without his magic. He had always wondered how much of the pleasure they shared was due to his powers and their interaction with the thick lines of lyrium in Fenris's skin. It was ultimately satisfying that the answer was none. The elf was coming undone even more quickly than usual, turned on by Hawke's submission. "Take these off," he begged from his position on the floor, tugging at the material in his way, "so I can suck your balls."
Fenris moaned at the throaty plea but shook his head. "No," he said sternly, though he did shimmy them low enough to expose his scrotum to the man's lusty gaze.
He fell forward and slurped one into his mouth like a treat. Small lines of lyrium ended in thin spirals on each one, and he traced them in turn, sucking fervently and lapping at the loose skin. He grunted when hands fell upon his back, his lover no longer capable of standing under his ministrations, but he did not stop, pulling both testicles in his mouth and tonguing the space between them. A harsh push had him sprawling on the floor. "Enough! Expose yourself to me!"
Hawke hurried to comply, jerking his robes up and yanking his smalls off. His achingly hard cock twitched when a deep voice moaned in approval. "Give me your hand." He offered it without hesitation, and his fingers were coated with oil from a nearby vial. "Prepare yourself."
The man moaned as he eased one slick finger past the tight ring of muscle lining his asshole. He pumped slowly, allowing the groans of pleasure it caused past his lips. Looking over, he saw Fenris watching intently, his hand gliding languidly up and down on his stiff prick. In response, he pushed a second finger in and scissored, then a third, stretching the hole and lining its walls with the oil. Suddenly, his hand was snatched away and the thick head of a cock replaced it. "Beg for it," Fenris commanded.
"Please," Hawke replied in a shuddering whisper, and the elf shoved forward because the powerful, arrogant man beneath him never said please to anyone. He never bowed, never acquiesced, never gave a single inch, but he was nearly doubled in two and was keening like a woman around Fenris's cock. The thought of it made him piston his hips with more force, making the amulets around his lover's neck clink against each other. His red dick bobbed between them. Fenris grabbed it and jerked almost harshly. "Cum," the warrior demanded, and he did in long white streams. The pressure of his orgasm ripped one from the cock inside him, and he could feel it twitching against the quivering walls of his ass.
Hawke grinned up from the floor. "I think you fucked the magic back into me."
Fenris chuckled and slid himself out, sitting back on his knees to look at the mage before him. "Thank you," he said softly, "for getting Carver to teach me."
Pushing himself up, Hawke leaned forward and wrapped his arms around the lithe elf. "They say we can only love who we trust, right?" Fenris just nodded and hid his blush in the broad expanse of the man's chest.
I'm working up to writing erotic fiction professionally. Please share your thoughts and criticism.