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Chapter Text

They were three days outside Kirkwall when Anders finally asked the question that had been haunting him since Meredith's sword exploded.

"Why?"

Fenris' ear twitched.  "I could ask you the same question."

They were five days from Kirkwall when the elf answered, completely out of the blue.  "Because I promised Hawke."

Anders started out of his reverie.  "To do what?"

"That I would only kill you if your spirit became a danger."

The mage swallowed uncomfortably.  "I think planting a bomb in a church -"

"A mage did do that."  Fenris turned to glare at him.  "But you dragged me into those sewers for those ingredients.  Flammable ingredients.  A mage blew up the Chantry, but not magic.  Not a spirit.  And I won't kill you for something any man might do."

"I'm not - Fenris, I killed people.  Dozens.  Ruined the city!  That's not something 'any man might do.'  Justice didn't make me, but -"

" Fasta vass , do you want to die?"  Fenris snarled.  "Why are we arguing over whether I should've ripped your heart out like you did hers?"

"I - what?"

"She was devastated, mage.  Did you not think of what this would do to her?"

"Of course she was upset!  I was too - Maker, Fenris, did you think I wanted this?  It was the only option left."  Anders shook his head sadly.  "And yes, I was and still am ready to die for my crimes."  He moved to unbutton his coat.  "You can probably sell my gear for a decent amount, but it never looks good to bring in bloodstained equipment.  I suggest cutting my head off after you crush my heart; Justice was able to save me from being run through, but two fatal blows should be too much."  He folded it neatly before pulling off his shirt and poking the middle of an enormous scar running diagonally across most of his chest.  “Heart’s right behind it.”  

Fenris frowned and placed his hand over Anders’ fingers.  “I’m not killing you.  I won’t do that to her.  She’s lost enough.”

The mage squinted at him in confusion.  “What are you getting at?”

“Are you so blinded by your spirit that you stopped loving her?”  Fenris growled.  “Did she mean nothing to you?”  The sharp tips of his gauntlet pressed into Anders’ skin, hard enough to hurt, but not make him bleed.  “Were you using her the whole time like you did to get into the Chantry in the first place?”

The absurdity of Fenris defending Hawke’s honor, particularly in this instance, was just too much.  Anders burst out laughing.  “Maker, Fenris, did you think I was sleeping with her?”

Fenris’ ears drooped in embarrassed confusion.  “I - you - she smelled like you,” he mumbled, pulling his hand away and backing up.

“That was the point,” the mage agreed.  “Glad it worked, though I suppose a little too well.”

The elf blinked rapidly.  “You moved in.  You weren’t sleeping with her at all?”

“Oh, Maker, no, I moved in to help hide that she was an omega.”  Anders shook his head.  “Hawke doesn’t like men.”

Fenris tilted his head curiously.  “I didn’t realize.”

The mage arched an eyebrow at him.  “What does that matter?”

“It doesn’t.  I thought you and Hawke were . . . something you are not.”  The elf shook his head.  “My mistake.”

Anders snorted.  “Not at all.”

“How did -” Fenris bit his lip.  “How did it work?  With the heat cycles?”

“Pretty awkward, at first.”  He shrugged.  It was weird to talk about, but if they were going to be traveling together more than a few weeks, it was going to come up, and better to talk about it before anyone did anything . . . impulsive.  “She was worried I’d . . . take advantage, and void, I was too - I think having my biology altered by lyrium in my teens then the Joining in my late twenties really screwed all of that up.”  He held a hand above his head.  “Sex drive up to here.”

“And did you?”

“Fuck no, Bodahn locked her down in the cellar and me in her bedroom.”  He winced.  “Always felt bad about that, we figured out after the first time that I can’t handle being locked up without sunlight for three days.”

“What happened the first time?”  Fenris asked worriedly.

“Tore out all my fingernails and broke most of the bones in my hands clawing at the door,” Anders said in a rush.  “Mangled myself up so badly that she had to heal me well before she should’ve been out of bed.”  He shook his head.  “Anyway, after that, she stayed in the cellar and I spent most of my time in her bathtub - for whatever reason, I can’t heal away the headaches I get from being horny, but cold water helps.  Then she and Isabella got together, and it was worse for a bit, but I guess . . . I just got used to it?  Some kind of scent blindness, I assume, like with people who are related.  Even Isabella couldn’t rile me up after a while, which is pretty impressive considering I know how much fun she is.”

Fenris frowned.  “But she smelled like you .  Not Isabela.”

“Well, I didn’t sleep with her, but I was sleeping with her.”  Anders winked.  “And Bels isn’t an alpha, else we never would’ve had to deal with all this rigamarole in the first place.  Granted, I probably still would’ve needed to hide there pretty often what with the fucking Templars, so it probably worked out that I was used to her heats.  Anyway, we shared clothing and slept in the same bed after her heats passed so everyone would think she’s an alpha.  I’m a known mage, so obviously, I’m not one, right?”  He grinned crookedly.  “It was actually Varric’s idea after she bought the mansion.  People were going to start wondering about those Amells that had magic in their line, and that funny little apostate Leandra ran off with.”

Fenris sat down on a nearby rock, looking shaken.  “All this time I -”  He bit off the rest of the sentence and swallowed.  “I’ve told you why I didn’t kill you.  Why did you do it?”

Chapter Text

“I’ve told you why I didn’t kill you.  Why did you do it?”  Fenris asked.

Anders sighed.  “I said everything that needed to be said at the Chantry.”

“That was an oration, mage.  A speech.  Carefully crafted words meant to incite and inspire.”  Fenris shook his head.  “I don’t want pretty sentences coming from a pretty mouth, I want your real reasons.  The ones that make your spirit show up.”

Anders’ eyes twinkled.  “You think my mouth is pretty?”

“Everyone knows you’re attractive,” Fenris retorted.  “Stop dodging the question.”

The mage huffed in annoyance.  “We were already dying.  Elthina wasn’t stopping it.  For all her protestations of neutrality, for all her hand-wringing that she felt for us, she let Meredith keep branding us and killing us.  If I’d killed Meredith, they would’ve just executed me, and promoted fucking Cullen, and he’d have continued on quietly massacring us with no one caring.”  He wiped a hand across his face.  “I had to make someone care.  I had to burn our ships on the shore.  Make it impossible to turn back.”  

Fenris bit his lip.  “And you were ready to die for this?”

“I still am.”  Anders slumped down to sit next to him.  “There is no denying what Justice and I did, or that we killed people who were blameless.”  He took a deep breath.  “You smell . . . better than you should.  When was your last heat?”

Fenris pursed his lips.  “I never kept track.”  He chuckled darkly.  “No omega heat is worth braving a haunted house, so I didn’t have to worry about unwanted visitors when I was drinking away the pain.”

Pain?”  Anders sat up in concern.  “Maker, heats aren’t supposed to be painful!  Uncomfortable, but not painful - bit of dizziness or nausea if you can’t get a proper release.  Hawke would get nausea so bad that she usually had to spend days in bed.  Why didn’t you tell me?  I could’ve tried to find something to help.” He waved a hand back in the direction of Kirkwall.  “When I had a clinic, I mean.”

“I didn’t - so much of what I know was taught to me by a man who wanted to control me.”  The elf wouldn’t meet his eyes.  “I didn’t know.  I understand lyrium can affect heats, however, so it seems reasonable to assume mine are . . . different.”  

“Prolonged lyrium exposure or high doses changes your body chemistry,” Anders agreed.  “It’s why all mages - well, most - are omegas.  And the amount of lyrium in you should be fatal.”  He tapped his finger against his lip.  “Perhaps some kind of salve to counteract it . . .”

“You said most - not all?”  The elf twitched an ear in irritation.  “Obviously not all, since you’re right here.”

“The taint fucked me back up the other way.”  The mage picked at a loose thread on the shirt in his lap.  “Apparently, lyrium makes an omega, but something about the taint makes all Grey Wardens an exception.  Chantry hates that.  Also, a mage that never touches lyrium can be either.  That’s why Merrill’s an alpha too; she’s never used lyrium, just her blood.”

Fenris made a disgusted noise.  “It’s a miracle there aren’t more in Tevinter then.”

“I get the impression it’s . . . not well known.”  Flickers of blue ran across his face.  “Just another way to control us.  Mages are omegas, and if they didn’t start that way, they’re made omegas.”

Fenris tilted his head as he considered.  “It sounds like slavery.”

“That’s . . .” Anders let out a measured breath.  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for seven years.”  He pulled his shirt back on.  “How did you manage heats before Kirkwall?”

“Poorly,” the elf admitted.  “The slavers they sent after me were often alphas.”

Anders paled.  “Did they -”

“They tried.”  He grinned fiercely.  “Many alphas died between here and Minrathous.”  The smile faded and he wrinkled his nose in disgust.  “Eventually they started sending groups too large for me to handle on my own and I was hiding in stables and fisheries to mask my scent.  And of course, dealing with them is how I met Hawke.”  He paused.  “And you.”

“I’m worthy of a separate mention?” the mage teased as he pulled his shirt back over his head.

“You always were,” Fenris said deliberately.  “Not necessarily a favorable one, but you always stood out.”  He slid off the rock to his feet.  “We should move on.”  He picked up Anders’ carefully folded coat and sniffed it gingerly.  “Hawke’s scent is already fading.  I hope the pirate can protect her.”

“They’re bonded now, and she’s the fucking Champion, so they’ll be fine.” Anders waved his hand dismissively.  “Honestly, after the Arishok, it was more to protect me than her.”     

The mage’s nostrils flared as Fenris handed over his clothing.  “You really do smell far too good.”

The elf held up his gauntleted fist and fixed Anders with a meaningful look.  “If I go into heat, you will not touch me.”

“Wouldn’t dare,” Anders said quietly.  “Anyway, my point is that if you haven’t had one recently, you’re probably having one soon.  And we’ll need to plan for it.  Enough food and water that we can hunker down for a few days.”

Fenris grimaced and nodded.  “I see no alternatives.”

They continued on.

Two days later, Fenris stumbled into Anders, breathing heavily.   The mage barely caught him, then almost dropped him in shock.  “Shit, shit, shit, why didn’t -”

“They always come on suddenly,” Fenris muttered, pressing a hand to side and wincing.  “No rhyme, no reason, just pain.”

“Maker, if he wasn’t dead already, I would kill Danarius,” Anders hissed as he helped Fenris to a sitting position against the nearest tree.  “This is not normal.  He must’ve done something to you when he did . . . everything else.”

Fenris pulled his knees to his chest and swallowed rapidly, like he was fighting the urge to vomit.  “You should . . . you should go.”

“What?  No, I’m not leaving you like this.”

 “I don’t want to sleep with you.”  His voice was quiet and distressed.

“That’s not - for fuck’s sake, Fenris, no matter how good you smell, I would sooner stuff a crab up my ass.”

Fenris growled, “I don’t want to sleep with you, but without enough wine, I may try anyway.  And I’m -” he stopped, hissing in pain “-I promised Hawke I wouldn’t kill you unless -”

“Stop, stop,” Anders insisted.  “You’re a stubborn shit, so just listen to me, okay?”

“Why, because you’re an alpha?” Fenris sneered.

“Because I’m a healer.”  The mage crouched down.  “We’ve got what we need to camp here and ride it out, and it’s going to be worse if you’re trying to fend for yourself in this condition.  I’m used to resisting omega heats - void, I’m used to alphas coming at me for putting my hands on someone’s mate.”  He shook his head.  “Maker, the stories I could tell you about the clinic.”

The elf frowned.  “Why - then why did you have to lock yourself up with Hawke?”

“Initially, because we weren’t sure.”  Anders sighed.  “Her first heat scared us both a lot.  The second one was uncomfortable, but neither of us were breaking fingers trying to get to the other, so after that we probably didn’t really need all the precautions, but it made us both feel safer.  Plus it gave us some uninterrupted time to work on the manifesto.”

Fenris whimpered again.  “Fine.  You will take nothing I say seriously and you will not touch me.”

The human put his bag down.  “How we agree that I won’t touch you sexually, and I won’t listen to any entreaties or uncharacteristic declarations of love?  I’d rather not lose an organ for giving you a sip of water or asking if you’re hungry.”

Chapter Text

Anders set up their tents, then started a fire with a flick of his hand.  He dropped a waterskin next to Fenris and offered him some jerky and apples.  The elf refused it all as he huddled against the tree and watched the mage with feverish eyes. 

"Stop staring," he snapped as he pulled out the cookpot.  "It's like I'm back at the Circle."

"I - I'm sorry."  Fenris pulled his knees tighter and looked away.  "You're distracting," he mumbled. 

The human winced in sympathy.  "Is it that bad already?  Maker, this must be awful."

"It will get worse," Fenris said morosely.

"And nothing helps?"

"Nothing I want."

Anders rubbed a frustrated hand across his cheek.  "I meant things to help with your . . . secondary symptoms."

Fenris gritted his teeth as another wave of pain washed over him.  "There are none.  It just hurts.  Everywhere.  Like a burn, but all over, and inside."

The mage took a tentative step toward him.  "Can I . . ." 

"You will not touch me."  Fenris' voice was full of menace. 

He sighed and sat down.  "An ass full of crabs.  Entire fields of asses, all stuffed with multiple crabs.  Those really big ones with the enormous claws, so they're still sticking out and everyone is walking funny and no one can sit down."

The elf gave him a baffled glance.  "Am I delirious?"

"That's what I'd prefer to either sleeping with someone who can't consent to it or watching someone suffer."  Anders shrugged.  "It sucks, okay?  And I know it sucks more for you but I-"  he broke off.  "What about just some simple healing?  Maybe that could take the edge off?  Let you eat?"

Fenris made a resigned noise, then grimaced.  "Since I ran away, nothing helps."

"Does anything make it worse?"

That earned a glower.  "Mouthy nattering mages."

"Oh ha.  Should I stuff a crab in my mouth while I'm shoving them up my ass too?"

Fenris smiled in spite of himself.  "It would be entertaining to watch, if nothing else."

"Did you just make a joke?  No, two jokes?"

"It has been known to occur."

Anders snorted.  "Even while in heat in the middle of the Free Marches with your least favorite still-living person in Thedas?"

"Apparently."

"Look, can I at least try some healing?”  he asked, almost desperately.  “It'll make me feel better and you said it won't make it worse."

"Only if you can do it without touching me."

"And then you'll drink some water."

Fenris rolled his eyes.  "If it will end your fluttering, fine.  If, and only if , whatever you do makes it hurt less, I will drink some water."

The mage inhaled deeply, then breathed out a soft wave of healing magic.  Fenris hissed when it passed over him, then looked surprised.  Anders watched him with concern.  "It didn't hurt, did it?  It's the gentlest aura we - I - can manage."

The other man looked puzzled, but far more clear-eyed than he'd been moments before.  "No, it's . . ." He trailed off and reached for the waterskin.  "It tingles?  Takes the edge off, lets me focus.  I think."  He took a thoughtful sip.

Anders looked disappointed.  "Damn."

"What?"

"I wanted to fix it, not make it less bad."  He huffed in annoyance.  "Stupid, really.  Justice and I - sometimes we feel like we can do anything.  But it never works out like we hoped."

"Mage."  His voice was soft.  "Don't make perfect the enemy of good.  I will always be in pain, thanks to the lyrium.  It cannot be fixed for what I imagine are similar reasons your spirit cannot leave you.  This, what you've done, it helps."  He reached an arm out hesitantly, then touched Anders' hand.  "Thank you."

"Andraste’s nut sack, you smell even better now!"  The mage snatched his hand away and scrambled backward.  "It's the heat talking," he stammered, almost to himself.  "You're instinctively trying to seduce me and you're going to get us both killed if you succeed."

The soft look in Fenris' eyes fled as he scowled.  "I don't need or want to seduce you to kill you."

"You really, really don't."  Anders stood up and began pacing, pausing occasionally to sniff the air or cast a quick spell.  He bounced around the clearing like a hummingbird, and Fenris found that the further the mage walked away, the worse he felt. 

"The - your aura," he choked out before pulling himself into a miserable ball.  "It's fading."

"Shit, shit, shit," Anders chanted to himself as he ran back over.  "I wasn't thinking - Maker, I really want to burn Tevinter to the ground right now."  He knelt down by the elf.  "This isn't sexy touching, okay?  Promise no fisting."

Fenris nodded as he clenched his teeth.  

"Paint me up and call me Dalish, you’re burning up," the human exclaimed as he pressed a hand to Fenris' forehead.  "I need to get this fever down before you cook from the inside out.  You really just used to drink yourself unconscious?  Every time?  For years?"  

"I won't be a plaything again."

"I wasn't - ugh!'  Anders cast a stronger spell.  

The elf relaxed warily, slowly untensing his legs and rolling his hips.  "That is . . . better.  I fear -" he snapped his mouth shut and looked away.  "It was gratitude that made me reach for you.  Nothing more."

"Good."  The mage stood up and started to walk away.

"However."

Anders stopped but did turn around.  "Yes?"

"Your proximity is soothing."  Fenris said it resentfully.

"I'm sorry, did you just ask me to stay near you?"

"I fear it will worsen faster without your aura."

Anders sat back down.  Out of arm's reach.  "This is going to suck."

Fenris chuckled bitterly.  "It already does."

The rest of the day was spent with Fenris sweating and grimacing against the tree as Anders stretched out on his back to stare at clouds.

"That one looks like a bunny."

Fenris sighed.  “It looks like a cloud, mage.”

Anders ignored him and pointed at another one.  “And that one’s a squirrel.”

“It’s circular.”

“A fat squirrel, then.”  Anders turned his head to look at him.  “Do you need anything?”  

Fenris sighed and rolled over so he couldn’t meet the other man’s eyes.  “Nothing that I actually want.”

“Have you eaten anything?”

“You’ve been right here this whole time.”

“And I’ve been trying to leave you alone, remember?”

He glanced over his shoulder.  “And you’re doing a terrible job.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me, alpha.”  Fenris’ voice dropped to a growl.

Anders sat up.  “Maker’s saggy tits, I didn’t mean it like that and you know it.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me, omega,” the mage snapped.  “See, it doesn’t sound any nicer that way, does it?”  He flopped into the dirt, sending a puff of dust up in the air.  “Asshole.”

Chapter Text

Fenris was miserable.  Anders was bored.  He poked at the campfire sulkily.  “Why are you even here, anyway?”

The elf looked up and gave him a wan smile.  “I’m not exactly in a condition to leave.”   

Anders waved a dismissive hand.  “Not right now, why are - what did Hawke tell you that you came with me?”

He shrugged.  “She said someone needed to keep you out of trouble.”

“Bit late for that.”

“Clearly,” Fenris answered dryly.

“But really, why?”

He wiped his face with his arm, wincing as he moved too quickly, then shooting a glare at Anders when the mage moved toward him in concern.  “No closer.”  Once the other man settled back down, he sighed.  “She was worried.  For you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Can you?”  Fenris asked.  “In a fight, I’d agree.  But otherwise, you have the survival instincts of  a kitten.”  

“I like kittens.”

“Idiot.”

Anders sighed.  "You can go.  If I ever see her again, I'll tell her . . . . something."

"No."  Fenris shifted uncomfortably as more sweat broke out on his forehead.  "You're a terrible liar.  And I'm not going to leave."  He winced again.

"Do I - do you need another spell?"  

"It's not pain anymore," the elf muttered, the pink of his cheeks no longer just from fever.  "Though I'd prefer it was."

"There's no shame in an erection, you know," the mage said.

"Perhaps not where you're from."

"Which from?" Anders asked in exasperation.  "You mean the Circle?  Where everyone had to help each other through heats as quietly as possible before the Templars caught on and locked them up so they wouldn't bond?  The Wardens?  Where I was the only damn alpha who'd been an omega before and they asked me the most insane questions?  Personal shit too.  Whether my dick got bigger, for starters.   Andraste’s flaming carpet, the Chantry dogma surrounding it makes alphas sound worse than wild animals and omegas like . . . like lambs to the fucking slaughter."  He made a disgusted noise.  "Everyone believes it so it must be true.  Alphas go mad around an omega's heat, and omegas will do anything for a bit of relief, so just spread your legs and hope it's quick.  And suuure, a bonded omega would rather get it from their mate, but really, is it anyone's fault if they can’t wait or if an alpha catches-"

"You're glowing."

"Fuck."  His voice had a second lower-toned echo to it.  "I - Justice is passionate about . . ."

"About justice?"  Fenris offered with a wry smile.

“Something like that.”  Anders stood up and paced over to a nearby tree.  "The Chantry feeds everyone lies every day.  Tell us that bonding omegas makes them more vulnerable.  Bullshit, it protects them.  Which is why the Templars always locked us up during our heats in the Circle.  And if you do manage to bond, the second they find out, they ship your mate across the sea.  To the Gallows."  He banged the back of his head against the bark as he slid down to the ground.  "Where you have to find and kill him ten years later because that wasn't enough torment and they had to brand him too."  He wiped at his eyes and blinked rapidly, looking lost as the blue Fadelight dwindled to nothing.  "Anyway, if you need a wank to take the edge off, I'm not going to be bothered."

His straightforward casualness seemed completely at odds with the passionate fury from moments ago.  “What?”

The mage sat down facing the fire.  “You heard me.  Have a wank, it might help.”

Fenris hesitated, then slipped his leggings down far enough to free himself.  A relieved sigh escaped his lips as closed his eyes, then he paused.  "I will not perform for you."

Anders turned to look at him over his shoulder.  "Huh?"

The elf rolled his eyes.  "I'm not doing this while you watch ."

"I wasn’t even looking at you, but fine."  Anders rolled back to his feet and stomped over to the further tent. "I can go lay in here, conjure a little blizzard to help my headache, and you can shout when you're done.  I hope you get poison ivy on your dick."  He ducked inside, but stuck his out again moments later.  "Please don't, actually.  You're grumpy enough."

Hours later, Anders emerged, looking damp and sheepish.  

Fenris had removed his clothes simply because they were too hot.  His tunic was draped over his lap in a pale imitation of modesty, but the bulge underneath made it clear that he'd had no success in finding any other relief.  He laid on his side looking almost decadent if you ignored the furrowed brows and the perpetual scowl.  Even the sweat trickling along the lines of lyrium looked delicious, and -

He coughed loudly as much to distract himself as to get the elf’s attention.  This was going to be awful.  "I'm an asshole."

Fenris gave him a quizzical look.  "Naturally."

"Not even going to ask why?"

"It's a true statement.  We can debate the particulars after I've-" he rolled on his back, mercifully keeping the tunic covering the interesting bits "-recovered."

"So, about that."  Anders rubbed the back of his neck.  "There are a few other spells I could try?  It wouldn't make your heat run its course any faster - that only happens with a bonded pair - but it could make it more bearable? "

Fenris sat up on his elbows enough to glare.  "Why do you even care?"

"Maybe it's an healer thing that I don't like seeing people fucking hurting and doing nothing!"  The mage snapped back.  "I'm sorry for having whole gobs of empathy laying around and no one else to throw them at but -" he stopped and took a deep breath, then started pacing in circles around the fire.  "I'm agitated, alright?  You're hurting and it pisses me off that someone would warp something that can be so beautiful just because they can.  And you smell better than Andraste’s . . . whatever, something that smells mouthwatering but you can’t fucking have it, and it's really distracting and the more upset I get, the more it affects your heat and then you smell better but hurt more and I'm just winding you up like the piece of shit alpha behavior I've been trying to stop in others for years."

Fenris watched him with half-lidded eyes as he slipped a hand under the tunic.  "You smell good too.  I can't decide if I love or hate it."

"Stick with hate; it's more familiar."  The mage squinted at him in the firelight.  "You bloody hypocrite, you won't stroke yourself off while I listen, but you will while I rant around in circles?"

Fenris gave him a strange smile.  "With that coat, it almost looks like a mating dance."

“I -” Anders was actually at a loss for words.  He touched his feathered shoulders almost as if he were apologizing to them for Fenris’ insults.  “Fuck you.”

“Not even in your dreams.”

Chapter Text

"I hope you get poison ivy on your dick!"  The mage retreated to his tent to sulk or service himself or talk to his demon or whatever he did in his spare time.

Fenris squeezed himself and hissed quietly as the nerves in aching swollen flesh lit up, figuratively and literally.  It was nothing like what it had been before.  There was still pain, but it was so much more.  He hadn't lied to the abomination about always hurting somewhere, either from an injury that hadn't merited a trip to Darktown, or simply the pulsing throbbing tingle of the lyrium in his skin.  With that constant thread of pain and the agony of his heat dulled down to mild discomfort he actually could feel his arousal as its own sensation.  It was new territory, which was its own kind of discomfort.

One he would have to learn to handle.  He shouldn't have agreed to the abomination's spells, however grateful he was for relief from the pain.  He was still  far too hot, so he finished stripping off his leggings and tossed them aside.  The blanket underneath him was scratchy, and it made his skin crawl, but he welcomed it.  Any distraction from this yearning desperate and foolish urge inside him.  The alpha smelled so damn good and Fenris had been resisting that scent for years watching him carry on with Hawke only to find out it had been a sham the whole time.  Take care of Anders, Hawke had begged him in the Gallows.  If something happens, Fenris, you’re the only one I can trust to keep him safe or keep other people safe from him.  She’d had no idea what she was asking.  

Neither had Fenris.  Escort the abomination to Rivain, that had been the plan.  He'd suffer a few heats along the way, but while the mage was many things, he wasn't a rapist, so the elf had no fear of that.  But he hadn't known enough.  Hadn't known that heats weren't supposed to leave you crying until you vomited, hadn't known they weren't simply meant to be endured via drinking oneself into a stupor.  It had always come with pain, and Danarius had enjoyed it.  Liked watching him suffer in silence while giving him solicitous attention.  Are you well, Little Wolf?

Lying always meant it would take longer for the foul man to take pity on him, but he was a good slave, and he wouldn't lie to his master anyway.  It hurts, master.  He pulled off his tunic and laid it over his lap.  He didn't want to look at himself.

Danarius had always been so sympathetic.  I know, Fenris, I know.  But you'll endure, won't you?  Just for me.  Nevermind that he could've given Fenris exactly what he wanted - no, needed - at any point.   Could’ve sent him down to the rest of the slave quarters to the alphas they used for breeding.  Or brought one up here so he could watch.  

Always, master.

Such a good pet, you are.  Panting like a bitch, but you won't desert your post, will you?  Chilled fingered threading through his hair.  Not until I allow it.  That always was one of the signs that he'd be . . . released soon.  Just because they both were omegas didn't mean the rotten blood mage didn't find Fenris' heats arousing.  The wretched man had probably gotten off just as much on tormenting him as from the heat itself.  He teetered on the edge of memories that threatened to drown him.

"I'm an asshole."  Fenris came back to himself with a start.  He wasn't in Minrathous.  He was in the Free Marches and Danarius was dead.  The abomination was standing by the fire and his hair was damp.  Too strong a blizzard in his tent, perhaps?

The retort fell from his lips before he'd given it conscious thought.  "Naturally."  

The mage looked mildly offended.  Less than usual when Fenris was talking,  actually.  "Not even going to ask why?"

"It's a true statement."  He struggled to roll over without exposing himself to the abomination and the rest of Thedas.  "We can debate the particulars after I've recovered."

"Yeah, about that."  The human wasn't even looking at him, just squeezing the back of his neck and staring at the treetops.  "I could try a few other spells?"

Ugh, mages.  Always wanting to experiment on him.  His disgust must've been apparent, because the alpha sped up into a nearly unintelligible rush of words.  "It wouldn't make your heat run its course any faster - that only happens with a bonded pair -but it could make it more bearable and-"

"Why do you even care?" Fenris snarled, cutting him off.  He would not be beholden to a mage again.  Even the healing had been too much, but accept it he had, and by the Maker, he was grateful for it.  Grateful to a mage.  A mage and an alpha.  Who was pacing around the fire and ranting and the more animated he became, the more he looked like a strutting bird, preening and trying to show himself to be a good mate: a protector and a provider.    

“…  and then you smell better but hurt more and I'm just winding you up like the piece of shit alpha behavior I've been trying to stop in others for years!”  The mage was breathing heavily, angry at everything.  Including himself.

"You smell good too.  I can't decide if I love or hate it."  Hated it, probably.  Between the lessening of the fire in his limbs and the increasingly heady scent of alpha that hung like perfume around their camp, the throbbing between his legs, it was getting more difficult to feel in control.  Pain wasn’t welcome, but at least it was something he was used to.  This . . . wanting . . . was pervasive and unpleasant.  And the abomination smelled like home.  Not a real place, of course, because Fenris had no home, only a corpse-infested building that he’d slept and hid in for seven years, but a feeling of safety and security and belonging and wild reckless coupling with no one watching to decide when he'd had enough to get the frenzy out of his system, to break the heat, but never actually sate him.

The human rolled his eyes.  "Stick with hate; it's more familiar."  

Fenris agreed.  But did he agree with the human because he was an alpha or because he was  him because he was right?  The gratitude and the lust made him question everything, and that in and of itself was terrifying.  He’d been a mindless extension of Danarius for so long that the loss of his autonomy to the alpha’s whims was actually more frightening than if the mage just bent him over a log and - 

"You bloody hypocrite, you won't stroke yourself off while I listen, but you will while I rant around in circles?

Fenris glanced down at his hand, which had wormed its way under his flimsy covering without his notice.  "With that coat, it almost looks like a mating dance."  The words fell from his mouth before he could stop them.  

“I -” The mage looked thoughtful for a moment, as he ran his fingers through the feathers on his shoulders.  Then the anger returned.  “Fuck you.”

Maker, he wanted to and he hated it.  Take care of him, Hawke had said.  And this . . . this wouldn’t be taking care of him.  He had to resist this.  For Hawke.   He looked away.  “Not even in your dreams.” 

“Did you even eat?”  The alpha was close, far too close, and Fenris wanted to  - No.  He couldn’t.

“Stop the spell,” he hissed, sitting up and trying to back away, but his ass was bare and the blanket was only so long.  “The - whatever you did to make the pain go away.  Turn it off.”

“What?  Fenris, I stopped channeling it hours ago.”  The abomination frowned.  “I haven’t touched you with my magic since I went to my tent.”

“Fine, use it to hurt me then.”  He tried to keep his voice steady.  “Something to distract me from . . .” he trailed off and waved a hand at his traitorous body.  “From all of this.”

Chapter Text

"Use it to hurt me," Fenris said unsteadily. “Something to distract me from, from all of this.”

Anders could feel the blood drain away from his face. “I - this is not normal," he muttered.  "Can I check you?  For a fever, I mean?  Touch your forehead, feel your pulse?"

"Just hit me then!"  Fenris sneered.  "Is your magic suddenly too pure to use like this?  I heard all about your, your 'adventures' with Isabela - it's one of the reasons I thought you and Hawke were-"

"Just shut up!  I'm not saying I won't, okay?"  Anders hissed.  "But if I'm going to even consider doing anything like that, I need to check you over first - Maker, I've known you for seven bloody years and you're still a stranger to me!  I could put the rest of us back together half-asleep and blind, but you, you stubborn fucking chip on my shoulder, you were too good for healing that comprehensive."  He slumped down, looking almost as deflated as he had sitting on that crate expecting Hawke to kill him.  "Too good for magic and definitely too good for me."

Fenris started to pull his legs to his chest, realized there was no way to keep himself covered as he did so, then scowled.  "Fine.  Just . . . fix it.  Please."

Anders winced sympathetically.  Being exposed was one thing, but being naked was another.  "It's that bad already?”

"Terrible."  He laid back down and tugged the tunic to the left as he rolled on his side.  

"I’ll need to get closer," he warned. 

"I’m waiting."  

Anders frowned to himself as he shuffled closer.  The elf was beautiful, and he smelled intoxicatingly good.  He really shouldn't be touching him at all, in fact he was probably making it worse.  But what could he do?  Just not try?  He put a hand on Fenris' shoulder as gently as he could and felt him twitch and flex to control the impulse to flinch away.  Contact with the lyrium made his fingers crackle and glow blue, but Justice was as uncomfortable with heats as other biological functions, and was unlikely to truly surface in a situation like this.  That said, the sweep of silver lyrium lines across that dusky skin was fascinating.  It mesmerized the both of them with the faint thrum that was a pale imitation of the song back home-

"Get on with it," Fenris growled.

Anders blinked.  How long had he just been staring?  “I - sorry.  Was, uh, thinking.  About -” licking your lyrium “- the best way to help.”

He twitched under the mage’s touch.  “Don’t apologize, just make it stop.”  

Focus, damnit.  Not on the lyrium.  The elf’s heart was racing and he was still sweaty and too warm.  Standard heat symptoms, really.  “Do you really want - you’d really rather be in pain than horny?”

"I would welcome the usual agony over this, this, desire ."  Fenris threw a miserable look over his shoulder.  “I won’t - I swore a mage would never take me again.”

“Fenris, it won’t come to that, the heat will pass.”  He stroked sweaty hair away from Fenris’ forehead absently.  “You’re safe.”  He paused and looked around.  “Well, safe as we can be in the middle of the blasted wilderness with the most wanted man in Thedas.”

Fenris shook his head and bit his lip.  Hard enough to split it.  “I hate this, I hate wanting you.  I’ve always hated wanting you.”  

Anders’ pulled his hand away like he’d been burned.  “ What did you just say?”

“ Kaffas , it’s the heat,” he snapped, curling up.  “This is why I drink, mage.  This is why it would have been better if you left.  Better for me.”  He took a deep breath.  “Now will you please hit me if you won’t use your magic?”

The headache was coming back already.  “I’m not - Fenris, I don’t think I can harm you safely.  It’s too . . . you were a slave.” He pinched his brow.  “And Justice - I don’t think I can explain that to him that you want it when I’m not convinced myself that this isn’t the heat talking too.”

“It’s not the heat,” Fenris snarled, twisting up in a single fluid motion to grab Anders by the shoulders.  “I want that gone, you understand me?”  His face was close, too close, and the mage could feel the warmth radiating off his skin and this was absolutely not helping his throbbing in his skull.  Or his pants.  Fenris kept talking, and that fucking voice of his wasn’t improving anything either.  “I want it gone, but there’s no escaping it, only resisting it.”  The tunic had fallen away and he would not look down, he wouldn’t, he wasn’t going to look down and of shitting course he was beautiful down there too.

Justice closed his eyes and touched the elf’s wrists.  “ Let go. ”  

Fenris lept back.  “Don’t touch me!”

He frowned.  “ Please do not grab us in anger again. ”  He picked up the tunic.  “ Cover yourself, this makes Anders uncomfortable .”  Fenris took it cautiously and slipped it on.  It was long enough to cover what Anders didn’t need to ever see or think about, so the mage sighed with relief and rubbed his temples.

“I - that was unwise.”  Fenris crouched back down on the blanket, looking for all the world like a cat about to bolt.  “I’m sorry.”

“Been a healer for a long time.  I’m used to it.”  Technically true.  Technical truth was all that was going to get the both of them through this alive.  He had been attacked at the clinic plenty of times.   But not by someone who could actually injure him.  He laid down next to Fenris’ blanket, suddenly too tired to worry about being too close or not close enough or touching or not touching or whatever the fuck Fenris was angry about now.  He knew what Fenris was going through.  Had lived it.  “And I want to help.  Even Justice wants to help.”  He closed his eyes.  “You have any idea how many people who’ve grabbed me like that and didn’t mean it in a fun way?  I stopped counting, but he probably didn’t if you ask him.  I try not to remember things like that and he doesn’t bring them up.  As a courtesy.”

“What’s that have to do with -”

“Most people who've done that to me lose an arm.  But you’re my fucking patient right now, and patients get a lot more leeway.  Even with Justice - especially with Justice, actually.”  He sighed and closed his eyes.  “But if it’s just the desire -” he said it with dripping sarcasm “-that has you so blasted pissed off, there’s not much I can do about it short of the shit you already made clear before you lost your fucking marbles that you’re not interested in.”

“I shouldn’t have let you heal me.”  Fenris muttered.  "This is far worse than the -"

"I've been an omega," Anders snapped.  "I know what it's like and more importantly, I can try to help make it less bad."

"I will kill you if -"

"I'm a healer, for fuck's sake."  He snorted.  "Pun not intended. If an orgasm didn't  help then there are at least some spells to help with swelling, change blood flood, slow your heartbeat, and no, it's not blood magic, I'd be using creation magic and frost to just - oh, screw it."  He sighed and turned away as he sat up.  "You wouldn't believe me anyway."

He heard - well, smelled - Fenris scoot closer.  "I would."  He paused.  "Believe you, I mean. Your d-the spirit hasn't let you lie before, and I doubt he'd stop now."

Anders glanced back.  "Really?"

"Ma - Anders.  I may find you to be the most infuriating person I've ever met, but I do trust you."

"I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."  Stay snide.  Keep him mad, keep him mad but not too mad.   Anger might help him focus past the heat.  Hopefully.  If Fenris didn’t kill him, at least.  

"You're probably right."  Fenris tugged at his elbow almost pleadingly.  "Help me.  Please."

The mage shivered at the touch.  How could he say no?  He was a healer before he’d been anything else.   "You will need to let me cast spells."  He rolled to his feet and turned to offer Fenris a hand.  "Come on."  The other man took it hesitantly, but let himself be pulled up, seeming surprised by how little effort it took.  Anders allowed himself a small chuckle.  "Warden, remember?  There are a few benefits."  He led him to the tent, then pulled the flap back to drape his coat across the ground, lay the bedroll out over it, then settle down on top.  He'd used a bit of magic he'd learned from Velanna years ago to call some springy vines up and reshape the soil to make it almost comfortable.  Homey, even.  At least on par with a cot in a sewer.  Maker, he had such low standards.

Fenris eyed the set up skeptically.  "It won't collapse or shift if you lose focus?"

"Nothing here is magic," he reassured him.  "I used spells to get these results, but it's not my will holding this any more than it's my will that keeps a wound I already closed from opening."  He patted the space in front of him.  "Can you sit here for me?"

The elf glowered as an ear twitched.  "You're using the same healer voice that you did with Hawke after the Arishok."

"Because I'm dealing with someone even more pigheaded.  Just come here or sulk outside, but stop telling me to fix this then refusing my solutions."

"I will kill you if you take advantage of this," Fenris reminded him as he crawled in and knelt down.  

Anders hummed his acknowledgement.  "You'd try, but you’d have to beat Justice."

"Your spirit doesn't frighten me."

Anders shook his head.  "I mean he would probably kill me before you have a chance to.  Really big on consent and permission, this guy." He tapped his temple.  "Probably something about seeing and hearing what it's like without it.  Fucking Circles."

"But the Templars-"

"Are just as pissed off about being omegas as the rest of us.  And trust me, you don't need an alpha around for shit to get ….." Justice pushed him aside, shining brightly in his thoughts and sending the memories scuttling back into their cobwebbed dusty shadows.  "I will not allow you to come to harm, mortal.  Not from us, or anyone else.  It is our duty. "

Fenris didn’t run screaming, or even jump away this time, though his rapid swallowing made it clear there was almost anywhere he'd rather be at that moment.  "Let him go."

"I do not have him ."  With a puff of energy, he was gone again, leaving only the smell of thunderstorms.  Anders bit his lip.  "Sorry, I know you don't like him, but he helps.  With the …."  He tapped the side of his head again.  "With some of the things up there.  Turn around, okay?"

The elf frowned and turned around.  Anders tried to be gentle, tried to make it clear where and how and why he was touching him.  He tried rubbing his shoulders, then applying frost behind his ears.  Fenris accepted it stiffly, but still didn't relax.  If anything, he tensed up more.  “Maker, you’re wound up tighter than Bianca’s springs,” he complained.  “Nothing I do is going to help if you don’t let me actually help.”

“I don’t -” Fenris twisted around to look at him.  Fuck, those eyes were - nope, nope, that’s biology, this isn’t real .  “What am I doing wrong?”  How could he sound so vulnerable?  So lost?  This was Fenris , for fuck’s sake.  But that was the point.  He was always fierce and wild and downright fucking murderous, but he was also an omega, and right now, he was an omega in heat and terrified.  Terrified of Anders, and while that made perfect sense, it still tore a hole in his heart.  He was a walking reminder of everything and everyone who’d ever hurt him.  How could he possibly make this anything other than worse?  

Anders sighed and let his hands fall away as he leaned back.  “Maybe this is pointless.”

Fenris slumped forward.  “Is this my fault, then?”

“This is Tevinter’s fault,” Anders snapped.  “And I can’t fix Tevinter any more than I could fix Kirkwall.”

“At least you tried,” Fenris said bitterly.  “I’d rather be with someone who cares even if they can’t do anything than someone who could and doesn’t.”

“So we’re together, are we?”  Justice clapped a hand over his mouth moments too late.  “ Anders is nervous.  Please forgive him. ”

Fenris barely reacted to the spirit’s sudden presence.  “Why?”

“ He will feel better if you forgive his careless speech and terrible jokes. ”

“No, why is he nervous?”

“ You.” Oh shit, nononononono!

“Me?”

“ Your heat.  He has always been - Okay, that’s enough, yes?”  Anders slapped himself.  “Okay, yes, definitely enough and we’re not together and that was a bad joke and I make those a lot, okay?”  He nodded to himself.  “Yep, that’s enough and you’re in heat and that’ll pass and we’ll just keep moving and everything will be just fucking fine.”

Fenris eyed him suspiciously.  “You’re full of shit.”  The words were sharp, but there was a smile in his eyes.

“Anything with a digestive system usually is.”

Fenris snorted.  “Idiot.”

Anders grinned.  “Asshole.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, smiling and uncomfortable, but somehow less worried after a shared laugh at each other’s expense.  Fenris turned back around and pointed at a spot below his shoulder blade.  “Can you, uh . . .”

“Sore?”

“It . . . felt good.”  He paused.  “Actually good.  Not . . . a reward, or preparation for -”  he shook his head.  

Anders brushed his hand carefully along Fenris’ back and up to the knot of muscle.  “Here?”  He pressed his knuckles against the knot of muscle.  The elf made a pleased sound that shot electricity straight up his spine.  And other parts.  Not good, not good, not the time, never the time, think about something unsexy - Irving!  Yes!  Backstabbing asshole motherfucker piece of frog spunk shat by a darkspawn .  He bit his lip to keep himself from saying something monumentally catastrophic and continued to massage the elf.  Medicinally.  Sure.  But at least it was actually helping Fenris relax.  That was the goal.  Not how tight his own pants were or how bad this headache was getting. 

“Mage?”

“Hmwhat?”  Maker, had he gotten lost again?

“The ice.  Can we try that again?”

Was he actually asking for magic?  “I . . . sure.”  Anders let frost start to gather on his fingertips.  “Back of the neck?”

“Actually,” Fenris said softly as he slid backwards and under the mage’s arms, “I think my forehead.”  He started to lean back.

“That might not be a -”

“There’s no shame in an erection, mage,” he said with a wry smile.

“Betrayed by my own words, I see,” Anders huffed in mock annoyance.  “Fine, if you don’t care about getting poked in the back, let’s see if I can make this less bad.”  By some miracle, and despite Anders’ own increasingly uncomfortable situation, the massage had actually helped.  Fenris was still tense, but not as much, and his heavy-lidded expression looked less aroused and feverish and more just plain exhausted.  “You need to eat something, you know,” he reminded him as he traced chilled fingers along the lines of his tattoos.  “Even if you’re not actually having wild orgies, your body is burning a lot of energy.”

“Is this an alpha thing?” Fenris grumbled.  “Wanting to provide?  To protect?”  He didn’t move, and in fact, seemed to almost be doing that thing that cats do when they manage to get heavier when they’re comfortable.

“It should be,” Anders agreed sadly.  “All the Chantry teaches is about is the fucking and the fighting.  But you do need to eat.”

“Nap first.”  

“Fine.”

Chapter Text

Anders woke up with a start sometime later. Fenris was still asleep on top of him, but had somehow rolled over so they were chest to chest. It was cozy and cute, but far too warm. Normally, he’d be perfectly fine marinating in his sweat like Maferath watching his wife getting it on with a god, but he really needed to piss. Maybe he could slip away without waking him? He tried to roll the elf a bit to the side and got a sleepy growl for his trouble. He tried to slide down, but Fenris tangled a hand in his shirt and tugged him back. He tried to scoot up, but he was almost supernaturally adhesive. Clingy bastard.

He sighed.  "Fenris?"

"Nngnnn," was all he got in response.

"Look, I'm glad this is helping, but unless you're into golden showers, you need to let me up."  He shook the other man gently, and wondered if it was possible to brace for the impact of an arm through a ribcage.  "I need to piss, Fenris.  Let me up."

He rolled over with a huff, but pulled the edge of Anders shirt with him and over his face.  Cheeky bastard.  He managed to unbutton it enough that he could slip it off, then hustled out of the tent as quickly as he could.  A quick glance at the moons in the sky told him they'd slept for several hours, and while he cursed himself for a fool for not warding the camp properly, he didn't really regret it.  Omega heats were as fickle and reactive as menstrual cycles, and he’d been stressed enough from being trapped with a mage (an alpha mage no less!).  Adding wards would've likely just sent them both spiraling into terrible decisions and possibly killing each other.  

A gentle nudge in his thoughts made him smile.  Justice was keeping watch anyway.  His own personal guardian.  "Still miss arguing with you though," he muttered as he finished relieving himself on the tree furthest from Fenris' blanket.  He felt a wash of regret and shook his head.  "Wouldn’t trade it, just miss it."

He rinsed his hands, then hung the kettle over the fire before looking for the food he'd offered Fenris earlier.   The apple slices were gone, likely stolen by squirrels, but the jerky was still wrapped up next to the water skin.

"Alpha?"  The smell of Fenris' arousal hit harder than a genlock.  Shit.  So much for small favors.  Omega fugues weren't rare, exactly, but they weren't common, and of bloody blasted sodding course Fenris would suffer that too.  It made sense, in a horrible twisted way, but why now, why him?  Why everything?  Fugues were brought on by proximity to unbonded alphas in combination with heat cycles, sleep deprivation, and . . . well, long term celibacy.  In both potential mates.  

Should've bought myself a final suicidal hurrah at the Rose before I became a mass murderer .  A reproving grimace rippled across his face against his will.  Yes, fine, it's not much to celebrate, but it would mean we wouldn't be dealing with this .  He tried to keep a reassuring smile on his face as he turned to face the man who'd haunted his dreams.  "You can go lay back down, Fenris.  I'm just putting together the food you promised to eat after a nap."

The elf was sleep tousled, completely naked, thoroughly erect, and still holding Anders' shirt.  "'M not hungry."  Rubbing the fabric against his cheek actually.  Trying to mingle their scents in a desperate but unconscious bid for relief.  Maker, he'd probably split Anders wide open and crawl inside if he thought it would help.  But that thought sent Anders' own thoughts down the lines of impaling and thrusting and shit shit shit he did not need to be adding to this already barely under control situation with his own filthy horny ideas.  

"I bet you two sovereigns you actually are.  You're just too distracted by your heat."  Stick to the healer singsong voice.  It'll piss him off and that's going to keep him at arm's length. 

Fenris frowned.  "You don't have the coin.  Come here."

"If it's all the same to you, I'll stay right by the fire and finish making tea.  To help with, uh, swelling?"

Fenris barely glanced down, didn't even seem to consider his arousal worth noticing.  Maker, was this even the same elf?  "Alpha, come here."

Andraste’s ass, an omega should just not be allowed to have a voice like that. No one should be allowed to have a voice like that.  Anders would walk to the Black City if he told him to, but this?  "Bad idea."  He took a deep breath but all he could smell was omega, an omega that wanted him, or believed he wanted him, or wanted to pretend he wanted him.  He was trapped and there was no escaping this and no -

"Fenris.  He is not yours to command."  Justice helped.  Justice always helped.  " You need to eat and drink."   He was not alpha or omega.  He was uninterested in carnal pleasure, unswayed by desire, and he would not allow Anders to harm or be harmed in that way.  " You promised."

The Fadelight crackling through their body seemed to finally snap Fenris out of his lusty haze.  He blinked a few times, glanced around in confusion, then finally seemed to notice he was stark naked.  He covered himself sheepishly.  With Anders’ damn shirt.  "Justice?"

"I am.  Please get dressed.  As I said, it makes Anders uncomfortable."  As Fenris ducked back imto the tent to find clothing , they set up mugs for tea, and Anders was grateful for the steadying feeling of Justice crackling through his skin.  It made it easier to ignore the way his body thrummed with need every time he felt Fenris look at him. It's just the heat it's just the heat it's just the heat.  Everything will be back to normal in another day or two and we can go back to the way things were .  Justice made a grumpy noise.  " I cannot stop you lying to yourself, but I would ask you desist when - "

"Who are you talking to?"  Fenris was back, and thankfully wearing his own clothes now. 

" Anders worries your relationship is irrevocably altered by this ."  Justice handed him the tea and jerky.  " Now eat ."

"There is no relationship here," Fenris said.  "It's barely a friendship.  I'm here for Hawke."

" You do not mean that.  Not any more ."

"You don't know me, spirit."

" I do not need to.  Hawke is admirable, but you are no one's property to command.  And you would not stay if you did not wish to be here ."

"He has no one else."  Fenris looked about to say something else.  "Release him."

" It is not safe to do so, " Justice reminded him.  " We are not a mate for you, despite Anders’ des - Annnnnnd that's enough truth today!”  Anders interrupted.  “Thanks but no thanks and I think I might just sleep in one of those trees tonight."  He backed up further.

“What was he about to tell me?”  Fenris eyed him warily.  

Anders shook his head.  Not good, not good.  “Please don’t, don’t ask.  Just - I’ll stay away from you and we’ll just . . .” he looked around, trailing off.  “We’ll just try not to kill each other for the next two more days, right?”  At least the fugue seemed to have passed.  Just needed to make sure he got enough sleep.  And keep pissing him off when he was awake.

“Mage.”   Maker, the way he said that made Anders’ heart pound and his knees go weak.  “What are you hiding?”

Would it really matter if he knew?  It’s not like it would change anything.  They’d still be horny and miserable together, but not together together and - “I’m attracted to you, okay?”  He looked up, looked down, looked back up to the trees.  Anywhere but Fenris.  “And it’s stupid and I hate it and I wish I could blame your heat, but I can’t.”

“I - ah.”  Fenris backed away as well.  “I think . . . this is not easy.  I don’t - you are so incredibly irritating, but I -” he stopped and sat down, almost behind the tent.  Like he was hiding.  Ashamed.  “I can’t blame the heat either.”

Anders blinked rapidly.  “We need to do something about this.  Something we can both live with.  How much do you trust me?”

Chapter Text

“How much do you trust me?”

Fenris flinched at those words.  Trust me, Little Wolf.   No.  No, this wasn’t Danarius.  This was Anders .

The mage in question held up his hands placatingly.  “Okay, bad word choice, I -”

“I do trust you.  I already said that.”  He forced himself to stand.  “This is . . . difficult.”

The other man snorted.  “Hard, even.”

He rolled his eyes.  “Do you ever stop joking?”

“Not really.”  The human gave him a twisted smile.  “Reminds me that I’m still alive.  That I’m not Tranquil.”  He took a hesitant step toward him.  “So can I -”

Fenris held up a hand.  “I trust you, but I don’t . . . I don’t trust myself right now.”  Such a good Little Wolf .  He swallowed.  “For a number of reasons.  I need - I need you to tell me exactly what you -”

“Have a wank.”  Anders licked his lips - why was he noticing that?  No, he knew exactly why he was noticing that - they were damp and full and he’d love to run his thumb across them, press a finger between them maybe while grabbing his hair and -

Water splashed him in his face.

“ Festis bei umo canavarum !” he spluttered, pushing wet hair out of his eyes.  “Why?”

The mage at least looked apologetic.  “Um.  Sorry.  You were getting a bit . . . ” he sighed.  “I don’t like people looking at me like I’m a meal.  It’s never ended well.”

He thought back to the parties Danarius would throw.  Standing guard, but being as much the entertainment and just as ‘negotiable’ as the dancers.  The shame made him feel sick.  “I apologize; I didn’t intend it.”

The alpha made a sympathetic noise.  “I know, that’s why I used water.”  Venhedis, how could he still care so much about anyone?  Or anything? 

Fenris looked down at the dirt.  “You were discussing masturbation before I made you uncomfortable.”  He could taste guilt and bile in his throat.  

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay.”  The mage had thrown caution to the winds and was suddenly right in front of him and touching his shoulder gently.  “It’s not - heats aren’t something you can control.  Resisting them is - look, this sucks.”  Anders shook his head.  “I’m going to start again.”

“About wanking?”  Fenris asked.  Why did that make him feel hopeful?  He didn’t - he did - he didn’t - want the alpha on him.  But not . . . not like this, and never like -  

“Fen?”

He blinked back to himself, glanced up in apology and acknowledgement, then flicked his eyes toward the ground.  “Sorry.  I have no fond memories of being like this.”  

The mage clucked at him.  Actually clucked.  “That’s . . . a shame.  They can be wonderful with the right person.  At the right time.”  A hand squeezed his arm and the contact made his heart race. 

“I was a slave ,” he grumbled, trying to drown out the rush of blood in his ears.  “Neither of those existed for me.”

“They could exist now,” the mage murmured.  His thumb was stroking along the lyrium lines idly, and it felt so good that it almost hurt.

Fenris fought the urge to slap his hand away and just took a step back.  “Stop.  Stop it.”

“Shitting deepstalker chlamydia!”  The alpha jumped back.  “Sorry, I -” He stopped and squinted up at the stars.  “Need to get this under control.”  He chuckled darkly as he rubbed the back of his neck.  “And here I am about to suggest something sexual to keep us from tearing each others’ clothes off.  That makes perfect sense.”    

“Perhaps it will if you ever finish a sentence.”

The mage shot him a glare that didn’t have any of the right sort of heat in it then sighed and sat on the ground.  “Masturbation.”

“I’m familiar with the concept.”

“Who’s making jokes now?” The human shook his head, but not before Fenris caught a faint grin.  “Orgasm can take the edge off, but -”

"You think I haven’t tried that?" the elf snapped.

“I know you haven’t.”  He tapped his nose and stuck his tongue out at him.  “I would absolutely have fucking noticed if you did.  No omega in heat is that stealthy.”  

In response, Fenris threw a pinecone at him.  The mage waved a hand and it burst into flames, covering him in ash.  He pulled out his hair tie and wiped at his face while coughing in disgust.  Fenris covered his own smile as he watched the mage flail and prance, and yet again, it put him in mind of a mating dance, only more awkward.  Once he was finally settled and had all of his metaphorical feathers smoothed out and dusted off, he cleared his throat disdainfully and sat back down.  “Anyway, an orgasm - which yes, I’m sure you’ve had one, you’re a brave little boy fucking your hand so thoroughly - an orgasm can take the edge off.  Even penetration -”

“I am not going to -”

The human held up a sparking finger.  “Even penetration, no matter how enjoyable, which clearly you’re not into and I’m very much not suggesting, only helps so much if you’re not bonded.” 

“ Fasta vass , then what do you suggest?”  Fenris demanded.  “Bond with you?”

The mage frowned.  “Do you want the long explanation from the healer to prove I’m not trying to take advantage of this or do you want the quick and dirty?”  He shrugged.  “I swing both ways.”

“Just get to the point,” he growled.

“You need an orgasm and an alpha’s scent.”

“That’s it?” Fenris asked incredulously.  “I could’ve taken myself in hand while face down in your shirt and just been done with this hours ago?”

“Uh.  Fresher than that.”

He narrowed his eyes.  “Fresh.  As in your skin.  As in touching.”

The mage bit his lip.  “I know.”

“Get closer.  To you.”

“And naked.”

"This is your idea of help?" He spat.  "Waiting until I was desperate?"

“I was fucking hoping it wouldn’t come up!”  The mage hissed.  “I was hoping you hated me enough that it wouldn’t matter!  Maker, Fenris, I don’t want to do this, not to you, not to anyone.  I’ve spent most of my life trying to free mages and omegas - you think I’m happy that one of the first things I’ve done since we’ve left is convince you to jerk off on me?”

Fenris’ ear twitched.  “On you?”

The mage turned pink.  “Near me, whatever.  In my immediate proximity.  You deserve to make a choice about how to spend a heat and who to spend it with and I’m not giving you any good options and I fucking hate this and it’s a damned inju stice that you are in this position. ”

A flash of Fadelight.   The elf sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.  “He’s as bothered by this as I am, isn’t he?  Let him go, Justice.”

“He is.  It is unjust and unfair that you have to make such a choice.  We do not condone any loss of self-determination, but there do not seem to be any other options. ”   The spirit approached slowly, and Fenris sniffed the air.  It was like Anders had never been there at all.  “ The only other option we can offer is to remain here with you myself. ”

“Is that - would that harm him?”

“ We do not know. ”  

“But if I - if we do this, it would break the heat?”

“ It would alleviate your symptoms for a time.  It is possible you would need to do it again. ”

“But not break the heat.”

“ My understanding is it would not. ”

He took a deep breath.  “Let him go.”

The mage took two guilty steps back as the scent of horny alpha immediately blossomed around him.  “I - I wasn’t going to lie to you about this being only a short term solution to keep each other from being permanently on Hawke’s shitlist.  I just hadn’t gotten that far.”

Fenris reached for his hand.  “I know.  Now shut up and let’s get this over with.”

Chapter Text

“Shut up and let’s get this over with.”  

“Are - are you sure?”  There was longing in the healer’s voice.  Desperation.  Also fear.

Wait.  Fear?  The elf stopped pulling on his wrist, but didn’t let go.  “When was the last time anyone touched you?”  Fenris asked.

“You’re touching me right now.”  The humor was back.  And the deflection.

“You know what I mean,” he huffed.

“It was Hawke, okay?”  The mage tugged his hand back and started to wring them together like he was trying to peel his own skin off.  “Crying and holding a dagger to my back.”

Fenris exhaled slowly.  “Are you trying to be obtuse?”

Anger flashed in his eyes.  “No, I’m succeeding.”  

“Why are you -” he stopped.  “No, I don’t want to know.”  He looked away.  “You’re as entitled to put a stop to this as I am.”

The mage caught his elbow.  “I’m coming.”

“Isn’t that my job?”

The human snorted.  “I suppose so.”  They went inside the tent and knelt in opposite corners, as far from each other as they could get. 

“You want me to -”

“So how close do-”

They both stopped mid-sentence.  The mage stifled what sounded like a nervous giggle.  "This is more ridiculous than fumbling in a closet at seventeen in Kinloch."

Fenris bobbed his head in agreement.   "No Templars, at least."

"True."  The mage drummed his fingers in the dirt.  "You still haven't eaten anything."

Fenris opened his mouth to argue, then stopped.  "I suppose not."  

"Do you - Maker, this is just going to be fucking weird no matter what, isn't it?"  He pointed at the elf.  "You, wait here, I'm going to make it extra weird, but I promise Justice won't let anything get out of hand."  He paused, giggled again.  "Or into the wrong hands."  He crawled out of the tent.

Fenris has been a slave.  He knew how to wait.  But he was a slave no longer, and more importantly, he was almost morbidly curious to know what foolishness the mage was about to inflict upon him. He moved to stick his head out just in time to see a bag swinging through the flap and directly toward his face.  He phased on instinct and flinched away as the bag sailed into the far corner and shot the mage a glare as he re-entered.  "You could’ve hit me."

"And you could’ve stayed put."  The mage settled back into the nest he'd magicked up earlier and dragged the bag closer.  "Anyway, I'm going to make this extra weird.  Come here."

Something about the tone of his voice left no room for argument, but it wasn't….it didn't feel like a command.  To me, Little Wolf .  Fenris shook his head to try to dislodge the memories as he crept closer, not afraid, but just uncertain.  The human scooted sideways and patted the ground next to him, a clear invitation.  Fenris scowled at him.  "I am not a stray cat."

"If you were, I'd have already tamed you with a shrimp on a string."  The mage retorted.  "Also I could just rupture my ear drums for an evening and let you yowl all night." 

"Fine."  He sat down next to him, pressing their hips together in the limited space.  "Now how, exactly, can you possibly make this w -"

The mage stuck a piece of jerky in his mouth.  "Like that."

He chewed as quickly as he could so he could snarl something rude back, but the moment he swallowed, hunger overtook all of the carnal urges.  It must've shown on his face, because the mage’s cheeky grin softened and he held out another piece.  Well.  If he was determined to make it weird, Fenris was not going to back down.  He leaned forward and plucked the morsel directly from his fingers and chuckled quietly at the surprise on the mage's face.  "Fine, mage.  You may feed me like this."

"Is it weird?"

"Very."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"I think," Fenris started slowly, "that the only way to make this less weird is to make it more weird first.  Also, you're a nattering hen and worried I won't eat.  This is likely the most efficient way to solve both of those issues."

"Not a hen, I can't shapeshift."  The mage tugged at him to lay down then held another piece of jerky just above his lips.  "But the rest of it is spot on.  Plus, if you eat you'll be able to sleep longer, which will hopefully mean things don't get quite so . . insistent later."  

He nodded and laid down.  The other man was a healer,and  had probably helped more people with their heats than Fenris had met in his entire life.  His entire remembered life, at least.  “Why - what made me that desperate so suddenly?”  He’d spent so many years being rigidly in control of himself and had nearly thrown all of that away in a moment of . . . weakness?  Confusion?  

“You body wants to fuck.”  The mage offered him another tidbit and stroked his lip with his thumb as he popped it in Fenris’ mouth.  “It’s harder to resist that when you’re low on sleep, or food.  It takes strength to fight your instincts.  Strength you’re running out of if we don’t take care of you.”   His knuckles brushed against the lyrium on his chin.  Accidentally?  Probably.  It didn’t matter why or how the mage had meant it.  The touch sent electric tingles along the lyrium from the back of his neck down to feet.  A pleasant feeling, but  . . .

Fenris shuddered and closed his eyes.  Tried to keep his breathing as he mechanically ate the food that was presented to him. You must maintain your strength, pet.  How else can you take care of me?   How did Anders' words feel so familiar yet so different?  "As you say."  

That pleasant feeling had never been for him.  It was a side effect, and afterthought.  

"That - Fenris?"  Chilled fingers touched his forehead and suddenly nothing was safe and this was a terrible idea and he needed to get away, but where could he go?  He'd been serving mages as long as he could remember, even if they didn't see it like that.  First Danarius and Hadrianna, then Hawke, and now a fucking abomination.

"Whoa, hey, Fen, Fenris, can you hear me?"  The icy controlling grip of Danarius in his hair was gone, replaced by warm calloused fingers pulling him close, holding him steady, not restraining, but supporting.  Helping.  "Fenris?"  A mage.  It was always a mage.  He was so tired of mages.  "Fen, come back."  They never stopped telling him what to do.  "Fenris, please.  Don't get lost in there, don't leave me out here, please."  That wasn't a command.  That was a plea.  This was different.  This would remain different.  No matter what it was, no matter how it would change, it would never be like that.  He'd kill him first.  Justice would kill him too.  "Fen, I know you hate magic, but if you don't respond, I'm going to need to -"

He found his voice and opened his eyes.  "I don't hate magic."  The alpha was looming over him, but protectively.  Sheltering him.  "I don't hate magic," he repeated.  The mage smelled safe.  "I fear it."  The admission sent his pulse racing again and he could see the other man lick his lips as the scent of omega flooded the tent.

"I - even mine?"  How did the mage manage to keep his voice steady?  Was it the spirit's influence?

"No - yes."  Fenris tucked his head in his arms and pulled his legs close.  "I don't know.  You, you're taking care of me like, like Danarius did -"

"Pus buckets!"  The human nodded him over in his haste to scrambled back.  "I didn't - you're not my property and I wasn't-"

"I'm not done!'  He snarled as he sat back up.  "You're doing all the same things, and I know it's different but I can't convince my body.  This is …. affection, not possession."

The mage snorted.  "You're definitely not the possessed one here."  A faint blue glow rippled across his face and he winced.  "Right, right, no possession jokes, I forgot," he muttered, presumably to his passenger.  "So I guess hand feeding is out.  Massage seemed to help you relax earlier, unless you were just too exhausted to -"

Fenris shook his head.  "No slave was worth treating to a massage.  Giving them, perhaps, but not receiving them.  I don't believe that would remind me of anything."

The mage frowned.  "What about your hair?"

He frowned.  "What about it?"

"Can I - can I touch it?"

A chill raced up his spine.  "I - no ice.  Nothing cold.  In my hair.  And don't pull it."  Hadrianna had dragged him around like that for a full day.

“I can work with that.”  The other man nodded, almost to himself.  “Are you still hungry?”

He looked at the jerky.  “I have no idea.”

The mage settled back into the makeshift nest, wincing slightly.  “Do you want to try something else?”

“Are you hurt?”  Was he actually asking after the mage’s health?  Of course he was; that was a normal question.  He’d promised Hawke he’d keep the abomination safe.  From everyone.  Including himself.

“Just really fucking hard.”

“I - sorry.”

“Not your fault I’m not into taking advantage of people driven fucking bonkers with lust.”  He gave Fenris a crooked smile.  “I’ll just take it as a compliment that I’m just that sexy.”

“I said you make me feel safe.”  Wait.  Had he said that before?  Venhedis.  He hadn’t.

Anders blinked at him.  “Uh.”

He scooted closer.  The mage had gone almost totally still.  He was always in motion.  Always jiggling a leg or fiddling with a buckle.  But right now, in this decidedly bizarre moment between them, he seemed to have forgotten how to even breathe.  

This was a terrible idea.  But he had to know.  He had to trust him.  Trust them both.

Fenris leaned forward to rest his cheek against the alpha’s collarbone.  Took a deep breath and yes, yes that was definitely a very aroused man sitting right next to him.  One who refused to touch him.  And that . . . was strangely the sexiest thing about him.  He reached up.

The mage had closed his eyes at some point and jumped slightly at the touch on the side of his face.  “I said you make me feel safe, mage,” Fenris muttered.  “But yes.  You are that sexy as well.”  He brushed their lips together.  Just a peck - barely a peck, really.  But Anders sighed like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted, and suddenly he was in motion again, grabbing the elf by the forearms and pulling him into his lap and nuzzling at him and Maker, he wanted this, why had he said no before, what had he been thinking, why had he been so worried -

“This is not what we agreed on.”

Chapter Text

Oh god oh shit oh Maker.  Fenris was kissing him.  Fenris was kissing him.  Fenris was kissing him .  And he smelled so good and he tasted better than anything he’d had in his mouth in at eight years and by fucking Andraste if he wanted and if they both wanted it why was he trying so hard to resist this man that had haunted his dreams for years but that was different and this was different but better and wonderful and wholly inappropriate .

Justice pulled them back, and it was difficult, even for him.  The lyrium was tantalizing, but this was not what they had agreed to do.  Had he said that out loud?  Strange.  He was usually more aware of what he did with their body.  Anders' body.

Fenris swallowed and looked away.  “I - you’re right.  That was unwise.”

“ Impulsive decisions are a common symptom of a heat .”  Justice shifted slightly to adjust to the stranger things that his anatomy was doing.  Anders always took care of such activities but he was clearly unable to control himself at the moment.  “ That is why I am here. ”  He paused.  “ I think that may be misinterpreted.  Anders’ was not in proximity to anyone’s heat when we joined. ”

The other man huffed in amusement.  “Anders doesn’t need any assistance to be impulsive, does he?”

“ I help him stay focused. ”  Justice pointed at his arousal, pressing against his own.  “ And you are supposed to be masturbating.”  His hand brushed Fenris’ arm, surely unintentionally, and he felt a whisper of the song along his nerves that made him shiver.  “ When you near completion, I . . . will leave. ”  Why did that make him feel sorrow?

The other man nodded and started to slide off his lap.  "I'll just . . . this shouldn't take long."

" Wait ."  Justice caught his arm.  Carefully.  “ You should . . . not go far.  If we misjudge the timing, this will have occurred with no purpose. ”

Fenris nodded, moved enough to peel off his tunic and slide his leggings down and the lyrium was beautiful and it made him so angry to see something so pure used to defile and debase another living being.  Concern flickered in the mortal’s eyes, but he sat back down on the blanket next to him anyway.  Trusting him.  Trusting a man possessed by a spirit.  A spirit he had only recently stopped referring to as a demon.  Was he worthy of that trust?  Anders was, surely.  Other way around, Justice, other way around - I’m nothing without you .

“ You are not. ”

The man next to him looked up from his activities.  Private ones.  “What?”

The blue glow faded as Anders pressed his cheek to Fenris’ shoulder.  "Internal arguments,  sorry.  Sorry for before too."

Fenris shook his head.  "I started that, mage."  He turned away, but nestled into Anders’ side.  "You said … an alpha’s scent was the key?  Skin to skin?"

Anders' breath caught at that much contact.  "It probably won't break the heat, but it will let you rest."

"Take off your clothes then."  

The mage shrugged, decided his pants were probably better kept on, and tossed his shirt in a corner just in time for the other man to scoot into his lap and lean against him, back pressed to his chest.  Ass pressed to . . . well, anyway, it was creating some delicious friction that was not the point of these activities.

The lyrium thrummed in time with his heartbeat, and he could swear he saw the glow brighten and dim with Fenris' breath.  It was mesmerizing.  Tantalizing.  He closed his eyes, but that just made the scent all the more distracting.  He looked up at the tent ceiling, but the glow of the markings and the shadows they cast as Fenris slowly stroked himself made Anders feel dizzy.  Where should he put his hands?  He didn’t - he did - want to touch him, to make this more than a necessary thing.  A medical thing.  It already wasn’t.  

"Mage."  His voice was soft, head was resting on Anders' shoulder and he turned so that his mouth was practically touching the side of his throat.

He swallowed.  Stared at the twisted roots jutting from the ground.  "Yes?"

"Does the alpha need to orgasm as well? For this to work?"

“I can't very well manage that with you sitting -" on my dick "-in my lap."  His fingers twitched and glowed blue.  A warning.  You are a healer, Anders .  "But no.  Pretty sure I’m already all the filthy alpha you need already.  Tent has to be swirling with it.  It’s certainly full of you."    

Fenris nodded against his neck.  “Thank you.”

His arms were suddenly around the other man and his face was buried in soft white.  When had he moved?  “I didn’t do anything,” he whispered.

Arms pressed against his.  Welcoming this embrace?  “I know.  Thank you.”  

The next few minutes were some of the best and worst of Anders’ life.  He held this man that reeked of unfulfilled desires and felt his muscles flex and listened to his breathing and fought the urge to mouth kisses along his shoulder.  He didn’t dare watch.  He didn’t dare.  This was too weird, too personal already, and he’d already overstepped too many times in too many ways that he could think of and Maker knew what he’d done without realizing it yet.  Fenris was rocking against him in his lap now and please be done soon but please never let this delicious agony end .  It was the heat, it had to be the heat, making the elf say and do these things, making Anders react so impulsively and this would be the closest he ever get to anything like his dreams and he was a fucking monster for taking even this much even if there hadn’t been any other options and -

Fenris arched against him, panting harshly.  An arm reached back, grabbing at his hair, not hard, not angrily, not like the Templars used to do it.  No, this was was something else, this was desperation, not desire, never desire, a former slave could never truly want him, but he could still need comfort, still want to be touched.  He let the elf drag him forward, kept his own hands studiously around the other man’s waist as he let fingers tug a him, let a face turn toward his neck, let him nuzzle and suck at his throat and by the Maker he could have whatever he wanted if he asked right now, but he didn’t ask, he just took, but what he took was so small it made Anders’ heart break and then he felt the edge of teeth on skin and that, that was too much.  That had been for Karl, and it was irresponsible and impulsive and he had to let go of his waist to slide a hand up and stop any sort of mating bite.  

“Don’t, don’t, please, not that -”  Whether Fenris heard him didn’t matter, his throat was covered now, and if the smells and sounds that he was trying very hard not to notice were an indicator, he would be done soon.  Lips and tongue questing along his fingers, then settling to nip at his palm as the elf jerked and sighed and then the smell was everywhere all at once he was drowning in it and they were kissing again and that was alright, that was better than a mating bite and Fenris deserved this it was just for him to enjoy this and he would be a monster to deny him that.

Hands, slick with spend, sliding down Anders’ bare chest.  When had Fenris turned to face him?  Did it matter, it felt so good to be touched again, even if -

No.

Anders slapped Fenris away from his laces.  "Stop that.  You don't mean it."

"I do," he murmured into the mage’s shoulder.

"Maybe now  but tomorrow it'll be right back to magic staining everything and I'm not going to be responsible for anything that splatters on you tonight."

Fenris sat back.  Looked down at the mess they’d made.  Arguably, the mess that he'd made.  “I . . . should clean up.”  

“Do you feel . . .”  He searched for the right word and found none.  “Less bad?”

He shook his head ruefully.  “Physically, perhaps.”  He slid from Anders’ lap with a faint sigh.  “I’ll - thank you.”  And then he was gone from the tent, too afraid or embarrassed or something to even bother with untying the flap and just phasing through.

Fuck.  This wasn’t supposed to make it worse . 

Anders sighed, leaned back and stuck his hand down his pants to take care of himself before trying to take care of Fenris again.  Maker, he hated being an alpha.

Chapter Text

One uninspired but necessary wank later, Anders emerged from his tent.  Fenris had dressed in a spare set of trousers and a loose shirt and was staring at the tea kettle like it had insulted his mother.  Someone's mother, at least.

"You look….." beautiful .  "Lucid?"

He nodded, but didn’t look up.  “Just enough to be ashamed."

The mage sighed.  "It's the damn heat, not you.  You're doing better than I am, and I've got a Fade spirit chaperone."

"He seems easily distracted by my lyrium."  The elf poked the fire with a stick.  "I fear it makes him less helpful than we expected."

He wanted to argue.  They both did, really.  Justice was no demon, swayed by something so base as temptation ; he was -

“You’re glowing again.”

“Shit.”  Anders sat down next to the fire, but as far from Fenris as he could manage.  “Is that tea?”

Fenris nodded.  He picked up a mug, filled it, then stopped and shook his head in disgust.  “I don’t think we should touch right now.”  He put it down on the ground next to the mage.

Ow.  “You wound me, Broody,” Anders retorted in an attempt to cover the actual hurt he felt.  The thought of, of, of, being that kind of alpha made him sick, and the thought that he’d almost -

He bolted from the clearing.  Had to get away, couldn’t be trusted, never should’ve stayed and tried to resist this, now he’d ruined everything, betrayed Fenris, betrayed Hawke, betrayed Justice, betrayed himself, everything was wrong - had literally blown up - and for what? Why did anyone bother to keep him alive, why didn’t they just fucking kill him like he’d wanted -

“Mage, mage!”  Hands.  On them.  We’ll hurt him again, have to - Justice, stop!  Anders sank to the ground.  Fenris crouched in front of him.  “Don’t run off like that again.”

They nodded, didn’t trust their voices.  Held up a finger to ask the other man to wait, then crawled to a nearby bush to throw up.    

“Anders?”  Fenris hadn’t come any closer, at least.  

He took a deep breath.  The scent of omega wasn’t . . . as heady as it had been; hopefully it meant Fenris' heat was passing, or maybe it was simply overpowered by bile.  Either way, an improvement.  And Justice found most biological processes uncomfortable, so he’d receded as well.  “Sorry.”  He wiped at his face.  “Are you okay?”

“You just ran from camp, fell to your knees and vomited and are asking me if I’m okay?”  The elf shook his head and reached for his arm.  “You really are an idiot.  Come on.”

“Don’t fucking touch me!”  The mage scrambled back.  “I just - you can’t stand the sight of me, the touch of me, and you shouldn’t have to!  I’m sorry, okay?  I’m sorry.”  He was a monster, everyone was right.  As bad as a Templar, taking what he wanted and damn the consequences.

Fenris looked over his shoulder.  “Who - mage, there’s no one else here.  Who are you talking to?”

“Uh."  Did he imagine it?  Slip into the Fade by accident.  "So I didn't . . ." He trailed off and tugged at his hair absently.  Yes, pain meant this was real.  "I didn't take advantage of you?"

“I think I’d remember that.  And probably would've ripped out your heart and thrown it over a cliff."  He looked away, but still held his hand out.  An offer?  "If anything, I should be apologizing to you.”

“But, but - the cup - you have to hate me.”

Fenris rolled his eyes.  “Fasta Vass, another mage telling me what to do?”  He rubbed his forehead in annoyance.  “I didn’t want to touch you because I don’t - I kissed you , mage.  And tried to do far more than that.”  His scent was getting stronger as he became more irritated.  "Come back to camp."

He latched onto the important part.  "You - you want me to come back?  You're not angry?"

"Of course I am!"  Fenris snapped.  "This is my only clean trousers and I just had to chase you through brambles to watch you throw up in what I can only assume is a fit of self-loathing."  He pointed back towards the flickering light of their fire.  "Camp.  Now."

Maker, no omega should be allowed to sound like that.  Anders wanted to fall to his knees in front of him, beg him to read anything, even the bloody Chant of Light, just keep talking.  But he was already on his knees.  And that voice had demanded he go back to camp.  He sighed, got to his feet, and walked back.  Fenris trailed behind him, either out of concern or because he didn't trust him not to lose his shit (again) and run off.  It honestly was a pretty fair assessment; Anders didn't really trust himself either.

He sat back by the fire, prayed the wind didn't shift, sipped his tea.  Fenris prowled the edges of the campsite, restlessly checking their gear, the tents, any anything else.  "Nesting urges?" The mage guessed sympathetically.  "Always hated those in the Circle.  No space to call your own if they did catch you, barely any if they didn't."

"Perhaps."  The other man retied a tent peg for the third time.  "As I have said, I spent most heats cowering in fear, in a drunken stupor, or bound to the will of my -" he grimaced and spat "- my betters.  And I do not appear to have been adequately educated on the . . . specifics."

"It's usually a sign a heat is waning.  Are they normally this short for you?"

He glared.  "I never kept track.  What part of that are you not understanding?  I couldn't control it, I couldn't anticipate it, and I couldn’t plan for it.  Either it would get me killed or it wouldn't."

The mage bobbed his head in apology and took another drink of tea.  "How are - can I do anything?"

"Tell me why you panicked.  Why you ran."

Anders swallowed nervously.  "Because I can't stop thinking about kissing you.  I can't stop wanting this to be different, that you had a choice in the matter, and I can't stop wishing that I hadn't stopped you - that Justice hadn't stopped us both, really."

"That explains nothing."

"You swore a mage would never take you again, but I tried!  I tried and the only reason I'm not dead is you promised Hawke you wouldn't unless I deserve it, but Maker, when haven't I deserved it?  I'm a monster!"  He cried out.  Justice tried to calm him, but the blue cracks in his skin only exacerbated his fury.  "I'm everything you hate, and you're so many of the things I want to fight for and I'm still acting like every fucking piece of shit blood mage alpha human and taking, taking taking always taking!"  He pulled his legs up to his chest and buried his face in his knees. 

Fenris put a hand on his shoulder.  "You took nothing, Anders."  How was he so close - no, why was he so close and how did he already smell so good again?  Like apples and leather and  . . . something green, not mint.  Minty-ish, but sweet.  "If anything, I took from you.  Your generosity, your spells, your food, your . . . your body."

"I offered it."  His voice was so thin compared to Justice’s.  Uncertain.  

"Why?"

"Didn't we cover that?"  He asked snidely.  "I'm a healer, you're hurting.  It's what I fucking do!  It's all I was ever good for.  Mediocre healer, shitty circle mage, shitty omega, shitty Warden, shitty alpha, shitty pacifist, shitty revolutionary, shitty-"

Fenris' finger pressed against his lips.  "Stop."

He wanted to bite him.  He wanted to suck on those lyrium fingers until he came.  "I can't."  Was he saying that to himself or Fenris?

"Why?"  Void, that's the thousand sovereign question, isn't it?

Anders shook his head, afraid to answer.

The elf sighed.  "You need to sleep."

"Probably," he agreed morosely.  “Little chance of it.”

"Would anything help?"

What had been the only thing to ease his nightmares?  The only thing that ever made him feel safe enough to actually rest?  Hawke.  Hawke holding him, stroking his forehead, brushing his hair, making him feel like a person; not a man, not a mage, not an alpha, just a friend.  "Nothing I can ask you for."

"Try me,"  Fenris challenged him.

Chapter Text

"Try me."  Why did he say that?  Why couldn't he just agree that they needed to stay separated and hide in his tent until the heat passed?

"It's stupid." The human shook his head. "It's stupid and I'll be fine."

"Let me be the judge of that."

"I'm not going to give you more things to throw in my face later."  The mage pulled his knees tighter.  "There's a lot of shit I'll give away, but this … no."

"What are - mage, I'm not asking you for anything."  Fenris reached for him, but pulled back as the alpha flinched away without even looking up.  "You helped me, and I'm attempting to return the favor.  Hawke asked - begged - me to take care of you, and I'd be a poor guard if I kept your body whole but let your mind unravel."

"You can't stop it.  You shouldn't try."

"Can't stop what?  Can't try what?"  Damn the consequences.  He grasped the mage's collar firmly and forced him to look up.  "Stop speaking in riddles and stop making my decisions for me like every other piece of shit blood mage human alpha I've dealt with."  

The other man sighed.  "Fine.  Just, don't say you didn't ask.  Don't say I did.   I know it's ridiculous and I know I don't deserve any -"

"Shut up and tell me."

"I can't very well do both."  His voice was trembling and pitched higher than usual.  Was he going to run again?

Fenris squeezed his shoulder.  Not to threaten, but to get him to refocus.  "I won't ask again.  Tell me what you -"

"Sleep with me," Anders blurted.  The consternation must've shown on his face, because the mage paled and started to babble.  "Not like that, I mean I wouldn't say no if you were - but the heat and - but I do just mean sleep, even before the Joining and those nightmares, being held - not held down , well sometimes, Karl used to - he was, well we bonded and they took him but the point is a warm body that's not going to kill me helps?"

Fenris frowned.  "That's it?"

"Yes, I really am that pathetic," he spat.

He untangled his fingers from the other man's shirt carefully.  "Have you eaten?"

"What's that got to do with -"

"Just answer me."

"No."

"Then I shall feed you and we’ll make this weird."  He smirked.  "Again."

Hope and yearning skittered across the human's face, followed almost immediately by dismay.  "My tent reeks of sex, going back in there would probably-"

Fenris pulled him to his feet.  The mage felt too light, like he might fall apart or just fade away.  "We have two."

"Inviting me to your tent?  What will the neighbors say?" The speed that he switched between desperate vulnerability to irrepressible irreverence was enough to give Fenris whiplash, but it was starting to make sense.  

The elf didn't answer and just tugged his fingers to follow him as he walked across the campsite.  When they got to the flap, Fenris pulled it up and waved him inside.  Anders gave him a cheeky grin that didn't reach his eyes, took a deep breath, and crawled in.  Fenris scooted behind him, suddenly worried that the interior wasn't nice enough.  Fasta vass, it's a tent !  

The mage sat in the middle of the bedroll, and the joking demeanor he used as an armor against the world had fallen away.  Again.  "You don't have to -" he bit his lip and looked away.  "I can take care of myself."  He was fidgeting again: tugging at the edge of his sleeve, picking at his fingernails, pulling his hair.  Remaining in one place, but still so full of movement.

His usual snide responses died in his throat; even in jest, they would do more harm than good.  "I know."  He pressed the mage's hands together and covered them with his own to try to calm him, but that only seemed to make him tremble more.  "But you don't have to.  I would not see you suffer needlessly."

"Not, not my hands . . ." the alpha whispered, shaking so violently that he could barely get the words out.  Fenris let go instantly, and the human made a gasping sound and covered his face.  "They used to manacle us; it -" he shuddered again and ran his hands through his hair.

Of course.  A mage bound and gagged was helpless, with or without Templars. Anyone bound and gagged was helpless.  Well.  Anyone but a man covered in lyrium tattoos.  He held his arms out wide in what he hoped was an invitation, not a threat, and shuffled sideways a bit so he wasn't blocking the only exit.  "I'm not - mage, I am not trying to cage you."

The alpha was suddenly in his lap, damp face pressed against his last clean shirt, damn it, but if this was taking care of him, after everything else he'd been through, that’d they'd both been through, that they'd put each other through, a soggy shirt was worth it.  He wept as noiselessly as any slave, and seeing him like this felt . . . familiar.  Had Fenris done this before?  Had he been the one to comfort a despairing slave?  If so, who?  His mother?  Varenia? Another woman?  Or perhaps a man?  An elf or human?  Had he done it more than once?  Had he done it for multiple people?  After the markings, he'd been . . . not sequestered, but given such a place of 'honor' in Danarius' household that he'd had actually less freedom and more oversight than a lowly scullery slave.

He shrugged to himself and let instinct takeover, watching in fascination as his hands already seemed to know what to do, not just for a man at his breaking point, but for a distraught alpha .  Venhedis , had there been one in his life before?  He stroked the mage's hair, tugged the collar of his shirt loose, and offered the other man a wrist to press to his cheek.  The tears didn’t quiet, because that would suggest they'd ever been loud, but they did subside.  Fenris leaned back, pulling the mage to lay down on the ground with him.  Anders twitched almost violently as Fenris' arm wrapped around his shoulders, then relaxed as he was dragged into partially lying on the elf's chest, forehead touching his chin.

He didn't know how long they laid like that.  Didn't know how long the mage's breath tickled his throat.  Didn't know long he closed his eyes and fought the urge to flip them both over and mouth kisses down the mage's body before taking him in his mouth.  He felt a wetness on his shoulder, and glanced down to find that the alpha was actually asleep, nose pressed directly where a mating bite would go, and drooling.  It was disgusting.  But also endearing.  And finding it endearing equally disgusting.  What was wrong with him?

No.  He knew exactly what was wrong with him.  He’d been - was still - in heat.  But that wasn’t it, was it?  Never had been.  This man had always plagued his thoughts from the moment they’d met.  He brushed the mage’s hair away from his throat and started running his fingers through it.  Was this part of that nesting he’d mentioned?  Did it matter?  The human made a soft sound, almost a purr, and nuzzled gently at Fenris’ other hand.  It felt good on his tattoos.  He winced and shifted as he felt the stirrings of arousal.  Too good.  He needed a distraction.

“Mage, wake up.”

Anders grumbled softly and released the elf’s hand, but didn’t open his eyes.

Fenris shook him.  Gently.  “Mage.”

“Fuck off, Biff,” he mumbled, frowning.  “Wait your turn.”

Who’s Biff?  

The mage startled away and sat up in wary confusion.  “Who’s what?”

Apparently he’d asked out loud.  Fenris held his hands up to show he wasn’t trying to hold the other man.  “You mentioned a Biff in your sleep.”

He made a face.  “Ugly asshole.  Dead now.  Not by my hand, but I wouldn’t have minded if he was.  Long story short, it’s how I ended up a Warden.”  He was pulling away.  Distancing himself.  Fenris had seen it in slaves before and he hated seeing it in Anders.

“What’s a - you said something about a fugue?”  It wasn’t really something he cared about, but he didn’t want to watch the mage collapse under the weight of his own self-loathing again.

The mage frowned.  “Are you -”

“Ignore that.”  Fenris covered his arousal.  A thought occurred.  Anders had offered, had he not?  “Unless…”

Chapter Text

The mage's eyes followed the movement of Fenris' hand almost hungrily.  "Unless?"

Fenris scowled.  Kaffas, he was going to make him ask, wasn’t he?  No, other way around.  He needed to make sure Fenris wanted it.  "Your . . . your mouth."

The human's expression was unreadable.  "I have one."

Of course, back to misdirection and absurdity.  "You're not making this easy," he grumbled.

The mage looked away.  "That's. . .part of the point.  I - whatever this is, and it's definitely something, I can't -"

"Shut up."  He pressed his hand against an eye.  "I'm not - I don’t know what this is!  I don't even know what it isn't. "

"Do you want to fuck my throat or not?"  He said it nonchalantly.

Yes .  "No."

The mage rolled his eyes.  "Good talk."  He started to crawl out of the tent.  "Thanks for waking me up for it."

Fenris caught the hem of his shirt.  "Ma - Anders, wait." 

The mage sighed and hung his head.  "What now?"

Why did he want him here?  "I - I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm doing, but even that -" he took a deep breath "- even the uncertainty is easier when you're close."  He shook his head.  “This all feels . . . familiar, and I don’t even know why.  I have no memory of doing anything like this, but it’s as if -”  

“It’s the heat,” the mage cut him off, sitting back down and pulling one leg to his chest so he could prop his chin on it.  “Instinct.”  He made a disgusted noise.  “Urges.  Like I said before, your body just wants to fuck.  The more . . . care you take with it, the easier it is to not.”

“And that’s a fugue?”  

The alpha nodded.  “Exactly.  Like a pregnant woman craving salt, or a sailor who just wants to eat an orange..  It just - after a certain point, if you don’t give your body something like what it needs, it just decides to take it - at the clinic, I normally saw it with sleep deprivation in the miners, or . . .”  he trailed off and glared at the ground. 

“Or?”  Fenris prompted.  

“You don’t want to hear about mage troubles.”  

Generally, the human was right.  Fenris didn’t much care for the plight of mages.  But the plight of this mage . . . he cared about that very much.  Irritatingly so.  “It’s not just mage troubles when it’s about you,” he said.

“Okay, that can’t possibly be the heat talking because it has nothing to do with sex.”  He narrowed his eyes.  “You’re not . . . unless you’re just trying to please the only alpha around however you can.”

“Fasta vass, just tell me about your damned clinic!” Fenris snapped.  “If nothing else, tales of horrific injury and illness will keep me distracted.”

“Isolation.”  His expression was so dejected that Fenris had to stop himself from pulling the mage back into his arms.  Perhaps later, when they were more comfortable he’d be able to surprise him like that but - what, later?  There would be no later.  The heat would pass.  They’d get to Rivain soon enough and part ways.  But did he want that?  Anders sighed.  “I knew you didn’t care.”

“What?”  Fenris shook thoughts of the future from his mind and sidled closer.  “No, I - I was trying to -”

“You don’t need to lie about it,” the human muttered.  “I can take the truth.”

“I wanted to comfort you, idiot,” Fenris hissed.  “I wanted to make you feel better, but I don’t know how without making all of this worse.”

“Really?”

“I have so many better things to do than pretend to care about you, mage.”  No, he didn’t mean it like that.  

“Wow, thanks again,” Anders spat.  “If I’d known I was signing up for blue balls and insults, I might’ve just stayed inside the fucking chantry when it exploded.”

“Kaffas!” Fenris reached out to put a hand on the mage’s knee.  The human shied away, leaving him grasping at air and feeling foolish.  More foolish.  “I mean that I would not do this if I didn’t want to.  I have better things to do than pretend.   I’m not . . . I’m not pretending.”  He bit at his lip. “And that’s not the heat.”

“Maker, to hear you talk like this . . . if Justice wasn’t with me, I’d swear you’re possessed.”  The other man didn’t look at him, but did scoot close enough to press their hips together.  “You know what they do with mages that haven’t done ‘enough’ to warrant Tranquility?”

“Beatings?”  Fenris guessed.

The mage held up a hand and let it glow with creation magic.  “I wish.  No, they would confine us.  Sometimes together, sometimes separate.  Sometimes a few days, sometimes a few weeks.”  He swallowed noisily, like he was fighting back tears.  Or perhaps the urge to vomit.  “The ones locked in solitary for more than a couple weeks were - they weren’t the same.  Especially if they'd had a heat.  Alone.  Touch-starved, we called it.”  He placed his fingers on the back of Fenris’ hand hesitantly.  “It’s - it takes longer than . . . other things, but it’s the surest way to break anyone that I know.  Even more effective than a demon.”

What could he say to that?  He turned his hand so that he could rub the mage’s fingers with his thumb and put his other arm around his shoulders.  It seemed to be the right thing to do, because the human leaned into him; nearly knocked him over, actually.

“W - they were always terrified to go back to solitary.  Would do anything to avoid it.”  He licked his lips.  “Anything.”  He shuddered.  “You wonder why I joke about everyone kissing everyone in the Circle?  Because any touch, any contact might be your last.  Made u - them desperate.  In more ways than one.”  He chuckled darkly.  “Have you ever seen a touch-starved omega in a heat?  It’s not - well, I’d say it’s not pretty, but that -”  Anders shook his head against Fenris’ shoulder.  “It’s just sad.  And cruel.”

“Did -”

“Don’t ask.  Whatever it is, don’t ask.”  He pressed his face into the elf’s shirt and squeezed his hand.  “But the answer is probably yes.”

He stroked at the blond hair.  “I’m sorry.”

“They’re all dead now.  Probably.  Lyrium addiction, Blight, Uldred’s rebellion.  There are a lot of ways for a Templar to die lately.”  He was silent for a while.  “Anyway, that’s why omegas in heat can go into fugues.  You run out of ways to hold the instincts at bay and the body just . . . takes over.”  His voice had gone flat.

“Can it happen to alphas too?”  Fenris found himself asking.  That was an unsettling thought.  The mage seemed on the edge of nervous breakdown nearly all the time lately, and if that control frayed further . . . he didn’t relish telling Hawke he’d had to kill him.

“Chantry says alphas are already in a fugue,” he snarled.  “Just one whiff of an omega heat and they go fucking mad.”  He laughed nastily.  “Do I look mad to you?  No, don’t answer that.”  He tapped his fingers on the side of his neck.  It was a nervous gesture that Fenris had never given much thought over the years, but just now, watching him do it, thinking about nuzzling at that very spot recently, something fell into place.

“You still have a mating mark.”

Anders looked up guiltily.  “I - so?  He’s fucking dead”

“You never bonded with . . . with anyone else?  For -” he did some math in his head “-for twenty years?”

“You can fuck and not bond, thank the Maker.” The alpha started to pull away, looking somewhere between angry and ashamed.  “Wouldn’t have survived becoming a Warden without.  I’m not even sure if I can bond, between all the fucked up shit that’s happened to my body - he refers to me.”   Justice surfaced, looking actually embarrassed.  “I have tried to comfort him in my own way, but it has never been enough.”   He reached forward to tilt Fenris’ chin up.  “I hope you can do what I cannot.”  The Fade spirit leaned forward and pecked his cheek with a kiss that tingled along his lyrium lines all the way down to his toes.  “Be gentle.”   With that, he was gone, leaving Anders looking cross-eyed with confusion.

Fenris let go of the mage’s hands to brush his hand against his face.  “Did, did Justice just kiss me?”

The human blinked rapidly.  “My lips taste like lyrium, so . . . I guess so?”

Chapter Text

“My lips taste like lyrium.”  Justice, what the fuck, come back here right now and explain yourself!

Fenris’ arm was still around his shoulders, and as Anders twisted around, looking for an escape, looking for a cheeky fucking Fade spirit to resolve the mess he’d just created, the elf’s hand brushed against Karl’s mating mark and any other time it probably wouldn’t have mattered probably but maybe only if it wasn’t Fenris touching it and Justice this is your fault and he grabbed the elf by the back of the neck and kissed him like his life depended on it.  Maybe it did.  Had the omega tasted this good before?  Probably, but that was then and this is now and Justice had basically given permission and he couldn’t lie and he’d been in Anders’ head for almost ten years now and he knew exactly what he could get up to when the mood struck so this was on Justice not to have established any rules and -

“Don’t - Anders, you’re pulling.”

What?  He froze.  Pulling?  Pulling what - shit.  He winced an apology as he forced his fingers to release their deathgrip on Fenris’ scalp then closed his eyes as he shrank back.  He didn’t need to see the pain he’d just caused.  The rejection.  “S-sorry.  I didn’t mean -”

“Forgiven.”  A lyrium lined hand touched his jaw, traced up his cheek.  “Does this mean -”

He stopped trying to retreat, but didn’t open his eyes.  “I have no idea what he meant.”  A lie.  “I can guess what he meant.”  Anders.   “He thinks you . . . he thinks you mean it.  That it’s not just the heat.  That you care.”

"I've said that repeatedly." A pause.  "Haven’t I?"

He didn't answer.  Couldn't find the words to explain that he didn't doubt Fenris believed it, but was still firmly convinced that there was some unspoken or unknown condition that would change that.  Leave him even more alone and damaged.  It was only what he deserved after everything.  Maker, why hadn't Hawke just killed him?  He felt Justice stir in the back of his mind, like a cat that can't reach the thing it wants to kill.  The spirit hated his bleak moods, hated that he couldn't help, hated that the only person who'd been able to had sent him away.  She made the right call, Justice.   She hurt you.   We blew up a building, I had to go.   She hurt you.   We agreed she could kill me, this isn’t different.  It is.  This was meant to be mercy, but she does not understand you.   No, she understood exactly what she was doing.

Hands, holding his, but gently.  Extracting his fingers from his hair he'd been pulling so hard that the lack of discomfort when it stopped was own new sensation.  It reminded him of Karl and that was not a road he wanted to go down but shit here he was and Justice help -

A hand covering his mouth to help him stay quiet as they heard the Templars pass.  An arm wrapped around his waist, holding him still, stopping him from thrusting back against him like he so so desperately wanted to, needed to, but he had to wait, if they were going to do this he had to wait.  Lips on his shoulder, so close so close, just a little more just a little longer but they needed to finish before the next patrol.

 

"Karl, please," he'd whispered against his fingers.  Prayed it, chanted it, until finally sweet fucking Maker finally the other man started to move inside him, started to lap and suck where his mating bite would mark Anders as his his only his.  He was pinned against the bookshelf while the hand on his waist slid down to grab his own aching hardness, making him moan and suck at the mage's fingers to try to stay quiet.  He tasted of lyrium and electricity and he'd never tire of it and then the teeth were on his neck and the hand covering his mouth was in his hair, making him arch his back and expose his throat as Karl bit down and spent inside him.

And then he was back in the tent in the Free Marches and Karl had been gone for years and why would it matter if he was worthless and unbonded, he'd saved the mages in the Gallows, or had at least given them a chance to fight back.  Not even the memories of the best day in his life were - 

"Kiss him.  Please.  I - I cannot help him today."   He felt his mouth move, but he didn't understand.  

"Mage."  Why wouldn't he just leave him alone?  Why did they have to go through the entire pantomime to get to the rejection?  Sure, he was good in bed, but not Isabela good in bed.  "Alpha."  Something he never should've been.  Something they don't fucking tell Warden recruits until they're on their third steak and kidney pie and looking at the kitchen staff like their next on the menu.  "Anders!"

"What?" He snarled, opening his eyes just so he could glare at that smug green-eyed gorgeous delicious-smelling man and oh fuck that was not my plan or maybe it was my plan and I'm a shit planner.

Fenris blinked at him slowly, seeming surprised by his vehemence.  "You still haven't eaten."

"Not hungry."  Lies.   "I don't want to."  Better.

“May I kiss you?”

“What?” Say yes.   “I - if you want.”  Anders.   “Please.”

The other man was tugging his hand, he wanted him closer, even after everything, all the shit Anders had put him through just in the last hour, he still wanted him closer.  “Come here.”  His lips were soft, and they didn’t taste like lyrium, but they felt like it; like the little tingle that came with eating spicy foods.  And Fenris certainly was spicy.  Spicy and prickly like a cat that had been kicked too many times and he just wanted to pet him until he purred and lick him all the way down to -

He broke the kiss.  “We can’t do this.”  Anders, you both want it.  This is just.   “I mean, yes, we can, but I just - look, after the heat passes, I want to, shit, I want to right now, but I have to know you’re not . . .” he shook his head.  “Maker, I want it so badly it actually hurts.”

Fenris cupped the side of his jaw.  “I don’t - mage, I won’t let you do this to yourself.”  He leaned forward to press his lips to the alpha’s forehead.  “I’m going to take care of you.  Not because I’m in heat, not because you’re an alpha.  Because you’re Anders, and I care about you, to my eternal aggravation.”  He kissed the bridge of his nose.  Anders sighed, closed his eyes, and just let the omega talk.  He loved his voice.  “I’m not - there are things I cannot allow you to do to me.”  Delicate lips brushed his eyelids.  “But you’ve already done this for me, more or less.”   A lyrium-lined hand slid to the edge of his shirt, slipped underneath it and tugged at the waistband.  “It’s just, right?”  His voice held no mockery, only faint amusement.  “An exchange?”

It is.   Why fight it when they both wanted it so much?  Besides, a hand job was just . . . a really personal handshake right?  

“Anders?”

He kissed the elf again as he clawed at his laces to free himself.  “Please.”

Chapter Text

"Please."  Ander didn’t deserve this, but sweet fucking Maker he wanted it.  Wanted more, but he always did.  He fumbled at his waistband; desperation and longing had made him clumsy.  

Fenris caught his hand and pulled it to his chest.  "Let me."

The mage nodded and kissed his way along the delectable jaw in front of him.  His skin was the best thing Anders had tasted in years, maybe over a decade, and the lyrium made his tongue tingle.  He felt his trousers finally loosen and a hand tug clothing away and it had been so damn long . . .

He shivered against Fenris' shoulder and the hand on him paused mid-stroke.  "Mage?" Asking for permission.  Anders didn't deserve this, but sweet fucking Maker he wanted it.  Not just the physical contact, not just someone other than his own hand for the first time in so fucking long, but Fenris.   He nodded again and kissed his throat.  The hand tightened around him reflexively, then loosened again.  "I won't - mage, you have to say it.  Tell me what you want."

"Anything you’ll give me," he mumbled.  “Just please, please don't stop."

Fenris chuckled softly, and the sound made Anders' heart pound and his insides quiver.  "So if I were to -" a hand slid all the way down, making him hiss in pleasure.  "And what if I did -" the hand squeezed him and dragged all the way back up.  Anders moaned quietly against the elf's skin.  "There's no one around," that sinful voice continued, lips pressed to his ear.  "No one can catch you making too much noise, no one will take you away."

Andraste riding Shartan like a donkey into the Black City, Fenris should've been an alpha.  Maybe he had been one before, maybe that's why he knew exactly what Anders wanted.  What he needed.   He was such a mess, had been for years, and Hawke had been the only one who'd been able to help him keep it together, and it had taken months of trial and error to get there after he'd moved in.  And now Fenris of all people just knew.  Fenris, an omega in heat and unfulfilled, was comforting him .  It wasn’t right.  It is.   The elf deserved better.  He deserves his heart's desire.   I can't - I can't just let him service me like he's a slave and I'm a magister.   "Fenris, I need -"

Fenris released him immediately and the absence made him whimper.  "What do you need?"  

Anders kept his eyes closed as he kissed his way back to the other man's mouth.  "Can I - can I do it back?”

That hand touched him again, lyrium fingers dragging delicately across swollen aching flesh, sending fire through his veins.  “This?” Fenris whispered with a smile against his lips.  “You want to do this for me?”

The mage swallowed noisily, throat gone dry with anticipation.  “Yes.”

He laughed, a low sensual rumble that made Anders worry he might spend himself before this even really started.  “Beg for it, alpha.  What do you want?”

Everything.

He didn’t dare open his eyes as he trailed his hand down to the bulge he knew was there, the one he could smell, the one that was driving him wild with desperate exquisite longing.  The arm around him moved and fingers grasped his wrist.  “I said beg.  What do you want to do to me?”

“Whatever you’ll let me,” Anders breathed, and once he started talking, he couldn’t stop.  “Let me stroke you, let me lick you, let me suck you, Maker, please , I just - I can’t just let you do this to me, I have to - Fenris, I'll do anything you want, or I’ll -”

A lyrium lined thumb pressed against his mouth and slipped between his lips, silencing him.  “You’ve made your point.”  Anders sucked on it greedily because Maker, this was all he could have, he'd make the most of it.  "You may use your mouth on my hand and your hand on the rest of me."  

The mage wasted no time.  He pulled the other man's fingers to his mouth, nipping and lapping at calluses.  They tasted like honey and Fade, and Fenris made a guttural pleased noise as Anders dragged his tongue over the lyrium, sending delighted shivers down his spine.  He reached for the elf's laces with this other hand, brushing knuckles again that magnificent hardness, mouth watering simply at the thought of touching Fenris like this.  He was still afraid to look, afraid to see nothing but pity in the other man's eyes, but he didn't need to look to cup him, gently at first, then more firmly as he felt hips start to rock against him.  

The rhythm of Fenris' hand stuttered as Anders pulled him free and finally got to touch him, really touch him and Maker, he wanted to taste him but that had not been agreed to.  He focused instead on the sound of harsh panting by his ear, told himself he could lick his hand clean, lick both of their hands clean if the other man allowed it.  Fingers trailed lyrium tingles on his tongue as they were slowly removed from his mouth, but before he could protest the lost, his head was being tilted and the elf's breath was trailing just below his jaw, teeth occasionally catching and sucking, but never coming near the mating mark.  He squeezed and stroked in time with the pace Fenris had set, and he wished he'd thought to ask if he could've summoned grease earlier but penetration was off the table anyway so it didn't really matter.

Everything was so . . . real, so strong, from the sound of his own raspy whines, to the scent of omega and alpha and arousal that surrounded them, to the lingering taste of lyrium on his tongue, to the feeling of Fenris' teeth and tongue tugging, nipping, licking at his skin as lyrium lined fingers squeezed and sped up.  Has he ever even slept with an omega in heat since his Joining?  Was that why this was so intense?  

"Alpha."  The ghost of a whisper next to ear made him moan and thrust into the elf's hand.  "What do you want?"

He wanted this to last forever, stuck on the edge of orgasm, feeling like he mattered to someone, even if it was just to be an amusing plaything.  "You, just you, whatever you'll give me, whatever you want to take, just anything."  He was babbling and he didn't even care.  "Anything, anything you want, it's yours, it's all yours."

"What will you do for it?" The elf was shifting, getting closer, and he was already so close, how much closer could he get?  He risked opening one eye to see the elf pulling the rest of his clothes off - right, last pair of clean trousers - and how he was managing it while Anders continued to jerk him off was practically witchcraft, but now Fenris was completely naked and beautiful and climbing into his lap and he shut his eyes again.  The hand not on his own arousal tilted his chin up for a kiss, then slid down, down, down to encircle them both and this hadn't been agreed to either but it was so much better than what he ever imagined he could beg. "Anders, what would you do for it?"

What was he asking?  Didn't matter.  "Whatever you want," he groaned into the lyrium-decorated nipple pressed against his face.

"Look at me."

Chapter Text

"Look at me."  Fenris tilted the mage's chin up with his free hand.

The alpha shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he flinched away.  "Please, not th - don't make me look.  You're, Maker, you're on top of me, and it's probably the most beautiful thing I could ever see but I'm - I can't, I just can't."

He squeezed, as much to pleasure the mage as try to maintain whatever control he had left, but Fasta vass, he wanted to look the man in the eyes for this.  The human rocked against him as he wrapped his own hand around them both loosely, like he was afraid to do something wrong.  "Tighter, mage."  The alpha obeyed almost before the command was out of his mouth, touching all the right spots, making Fenris bite back a whimper.  He could enjoy this, he absolutely would enjoy this, but he couldn't show weakness.  He would not ask the mage for anything, he wouldn’t do anything but take, even if all he took was freely offered, even begged for.

And kaffas, he did beg.  It was as if the moment he’d been ordered to, the mage couldn’t stop.  A torrent of pleas fell from his mouth, mostly incoherent, but what Fenris could understand was utterly desperate and unfairly filthy.  He whined as pawed at the elf’s chest and legs, almost chanting, “let me put me mouth on you, please give it to me, I need it I want to taste you, fucking Maker, I need it, Maker it’d been so long, Fenris, please, please, please.”

The mage writhed and bucked beneath him, clawing and tugging him close, closer, pressing them so tightly together there barely was space for the hands they had wrapped around each other.  They thrust against each other, all delicious friction and want driving them to new heights.  And still the mage begged, not for his own pleasure, not for Fenris to do anything at all except allow it.

He tried again, nuzzling just above and behind the human's ear as he whispered, "Look at me."  Why did that matter so much to him?  Maybe it had simply been a whim, but now that it was all the alpha had denied him, he wanted it more than the orgasm itself.  He wanted to watch the mage's gaze track his every movement hungrily, wanted to see those eyes roll back and flutter closed again as he spent himself.

"Only if you let me have you in my mouth," the human breathed against his own ear, and he wanted to give in.  He truly did, but if he did, he’d have to let go of the mage, have to stop rutting against him, even for a moment, and this already felt almost overwhelmingly too good.  

Had it ever felt this good before?  Not that he could recall.  

Perhaps before the lyrium, when he had other people to care for, who’d taught him to care back, people like his mother, and he suddenly remembered: what she looked like standing in the doorway and calling him in from the garden, long grey hair braided tightly down the side of her head and hanging nearly to her waist; Varenia as a child, catching his hand as they laughed and ran back to the kitchen under her indulgent gaze, Varenia’s gleeful squeal as she’d first made colored lights dance in the courtyard, their mother’s fear hidden behind a facade of delight when they ran back to show her too; a dark haired man who’d kissed him and had said -

And then it was gone.

He’d remembered, and now it was gone.  He’d spilled all over Anders in a flash of remembered . . . innocence?  It had all been back for a split second of bittersweet joy and now it was gone and the mage was moaning so prettily underneath him as he came as well and it just didn’t matter.  Not anymore, not after whatever had just happened.  All that was left was disgust and sorrow.  

So of course that was the moment was when Anders finally opened his fucking eyes.  He did it slowly, with a languid satisfied smile spreading across his face and he trailed his gaze and fingers up through the mess they’d both made and brought it to his lips.  Fenris felt like he was outside himself, screaming at his own body to smile, smile damn it, for once, just smile, but he couldn’t do it fast enough, and he watched that bliss crumble away into horror.  He tried to scramble away, but Fenris was sitting on him and then the horror became panic as he started to twist and flail in a desperate attempt to escape.  And if he grabbed his hands, he'd just make it worse.

“Ma - Anders, it’s not what you think,” he finally managed to choke out around the rising urge to vomit.  Not at what he’d done, not at what the alpha had done, but at the hurt his own traitorous expression had inflicted upon the other man.

"No, it clearly wasn't," he spat, still trying to wiggle out from under the stronger elf.  "You hate me, you always hated me, you're using me, and that's fine, but you didn't have to fucking lie about it!"   Justice pushed him off with ease and set about straightening their clothing as he blazed with fury.  "You were supposed to help him to take care of him.  This is none of that!  This is selfish and wanton and unjust and -"

"I remembered my mother's face."  

It was a miracle Justice even heard him over his tirade.   He looked up from the laces he was inexpertly tightening.  "You have no memories of your mother."

He put his face in his hands, ignoring whatever spend he was no doubt getting in his hair as he tried to hide his shame and guilt.  "I - I still don't.  It - a memory or a vision or something of her, it had to be her, it came to me as . . . well, when I did."  He shook his head.  "But now it's gone, and I can remember remembering but I don't remember and now I'm - I was . . ."  He trailed off, swallowed rapidly.  Did he need to throw up or cry?  He huddled in on himself in the corner of the tent, just as horrified as the alpha had been so recently.

A hand touched his shoulder gently.   "Andraste’s cockweasels, right then? And then I - fuck, Fenris, I'm so sorry." 

Chapter Text

"Fenris, I'm so sorry."

He shrugged the mage’s hand away.  "Stop.  Whatever we thought this could be….it isn't that.  One look from me is all it takes for you make me a monster, to see nothing but one of your, your jailers .  Then moments later you have nothing but sympathy?  I don't understand you and I don’t want to understand you."

"No, that -" the mage exhaled loudly.   "It's not always about you, asshole.”  

“It was never about me,” Fenris hissed as he threw his clothing out of the tent.  He didn’t want anything to do with this flighty capricious man and certainly didn’t want to be around anything that smelled like him.  He’d be sleeping under the stars tonight and likely for several more after since they’d now defiled both tents.  “I said I trusted you, but I never thought to ask if you felt the same!”

“What does - Fenris, that’s - what are you saying?  Of course, I do!  I wouldn’t have ever agreed to come with you if I didn’t!  You think I don’t know what Hawke was asking?”  the abomination snarled.  “I’ve been waiting for you to kill me since we left, then you go into fucking heat and you finally act like maybe I’m a fucking person to you and then you fucking make demands like I’m not but you were so gentle and I just didn’t want to look, didn’t want to worry about seeing the disgust at fucking a filthy fucking mage and I just - do you have any idea what it’s like to, to, to -”  he took in a shaky breath.  “Templars reek of lyrium, you know that?  It’s - maybe it’s a mage thing to be able to smell it - well, feel it.  I’ve . . . I thought I was back there for a moment.”  Fenris could hear him shuffle away.  “I - flashbacks.  Like Dan-”

“Enough.”  Fasta Vass.   The mage was as damaged as he was.

He could see the mage reach for him again out of the corner of his eye, then think better of it. “I am sorry.”

Fenris winced.  He’d hurt the mage - he didn’t mean to, but he had, and now the other man was apologizing for it.  Idiot.  “Likewise.”  Really, they’d hurt each other.  With the lives they’d led, it has been inevitable.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Fenris,” the mage said softly.  “They did.”  He moved to crawl out of the tent.  Fenris still couldn’t bring himself to look at him, didn’t want to be around him, not after whatever that had been, but he was terrified to be alone with the memories that he apparently still had.

“Mage.”

The movement of the tent flap paused.  “Elf.”

“I am afraid.”  Of you, of me, of magic, of my past, of remembering, of forgetting.   “I’m afraid, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Are you asking for suggestions?  Or just someone to listen?”

Fenris shook his head.  “I don’t know.  I remembered - Anders, I remembered being happy, and now it’s gone.”  Forever?  Until the next foolish moment of shared passion?  Could he risk being debilitated like that again?  Could he risk never trying again?  Who would have a man who would spend his climax chasing lost memories?

“It’s not gone,” the mage said, settling back on the ground.  “It’s hiding.  Or maybe it’s blood magic that’s finally wearing off.”

“How do I get rid of it?”  Do I want to?

The mage started to say something, then stopped.  Took another breath.  “You’re absolutely going to hate everything theory I have.”

“Out with it.”

“We find Merrill and -”

He made a chopping motion with his arm.  “No.”

“The other option is more sex.”

Fenris bit back a chuckle.  It’s not like he hadn’t been thinking the same thing.  “And why would I hate that?”

“Well, the - you’d have them again,” the human stammered, not expecting such a response. “If the sex was with me I probably wouldn't really be able to help because I’m a damn good healer but I’m not that good a healer and there’s only so much I can do when I’ve got my -”

“I understand soothing words might be difficult when your mouth is full,”  Fenris snorted, cutting him off.

“I - uh.  You’d - huh.”

Fenris dared a sidelong glance.  The alpha didn’t seem opposed, just thoughtful.  Eager.  Good.  The thought of his lips wrapped around him just like he'd begged to do earlier was enough to -

“Uh, Fenris.  You’re, um.  We need to talk about this rationally.”  Anders started backing out of the tent.  “You’re - Maker.  I really, really want to do anything you say right now.”

“And that’s a problem?” Fenris purred, creeping close.  Stalking him, really.

The alpha held him back with an arm.  Damn his reach.  “Fenris, we’re - I will absolutely put my mouth on any part of you that you’ll let me, but we need to talk about this first.”

He sat back, sulking.  "Fine."

The mage shook his head and pointed.  "Outside, by the fire; Maker, I can barely think with all the smell of … well, the smell of you in here."

Outside, boy.   Fury bubbled inside him.  "I won't take orders from you, mage!"

"Back to that already?  Andraste’s hairless kitten, this is exactly why we need to talk.  Why we should've talked days ago."  The human sighed.  "Fine, you stay the blasted tent, or climb a tree, or go jump in a blighted lake, do whatever you fucking want, but I'm going to sit over by the fire, burn some pine needles in front of my face, and wait for you to be fucking civil."  He crawled out, still talking.  "Justice fucked up, and I'm sorry.  He shouldn't have done it, okay?  He knew what I wa-what's helped before, and he tried everything else and it wasn't working and he thinks - thought - you won't, you wouldn't try to hurt me."  He sat down heavily by the dying embers, then brought them back up to a blaze with a wave of his hand.  "And he was right, you didn't try ," the mage spat over his shoulder.  "You didn't need to try.  I'm just like this."

Fenris would not follow him.  He would stay in his stupid tent full of regret and the smell of sex and alpha.  It didn't matter that he'd been about to leave anyway, that his last change of clean clothing was somewhere out there in the dirt; the abomination had ordered it and therefore he wouldn't.  It didn't matter that he wanted to go to him, to hold him, to comfort him.  He would not obey orders.  Not from an alpha, not from a mage.  And certainly not from both.  But there had been no order to speak.  "We are more alike than I'd prefer," he said with a sympathetic grimace.  "Including some of the . . . damage.  Perhaps it's better if I never know what I lost."

Justice spun around, crackling with fury.   "You did not lose anything.  They stole from you.  Your life, your childhood, your very identity, stripped away.  You deserve to see it restored."

The spirit’s vehemence was a surprise, but the sudden drop in scent of an alpha - an upset one no less - made it easier to think with something other than his libido.  He shook his head.  "I've hurt him already."

“That mistake lies with me.”   Justice had never been able to speak softly, but his voice, while still carrying the force and volume to knock a man down, was trembling.  Uncertain.  Fenris had never seen the spirit look so lost.  “I knew you would not hurt him, but I did not consider your own past, and the wounds you have sustained."   He moved back from the fire and knelt down in front of the tent, reaching out in supplication.   "I have done a grave disservice to you both, been selfish and afraid, forced you both to act on feelings you did not wish to share; I have corrupted him, corrupted you!  He insists we are not an abomination, that I am no demon, but how can I be anything but when this distress drives me to -”

Fenris grabbed Justice’s hands, ignoring the pleasurable jolt of electricity along his skin.  "Justice, that's not - Justice, you need to calm down."  Wrong thing to say.

"Calm down?"   The spirit scoffed, squeezing the elf's hands so hard he could feel bones grinding.  "No, I have sinned, we have killed innocents, and Hawke refused us our righteous and necessary death.  There is no peace with without justice, no justice without peace, and I cannot, I cannot be what he needs, and I cannot force him seek comfort that does not reciprocate, I am failing -"   

Fenris flared his lyrium, and Justice went limp, falling forward against him.  The blue cracks in his skin pulsed faintly a few times before dimming entirely as the scent of an alpha filled his nostrils again.  An alpha pressed against his naked chest.  "Mage."  The human shivered but didn't answer.  Fenris shook him lightly.  "Anders."  The other man nodded and sniffed wetly and started to sit up, but Fenris tightened his arms around him.  "Mage, you don't need to move, but I would hear you speak."

The mage took a shuddering breath. "That was . . . bad one," he finally whispered.

"It's happened before?"  How had the abomination not lost his mind years ago?

"Hawke . . . She helped." Anders answered the unspoken question distantly.  "I - he doesn't - time isn't very real for him.  Sometimes the memories - he can bring up the good ones, help me relive them like I'm there again, but, but there aren't many.  And sometimes he touches on the wrong ones, or the right ones aren't enough, and, well."  He made a regretful sound against Fenris' shoulder.  "Joining was . . . I would do it again, but I wish we'd been better prepared."  He sat back, wiped at his face with a sleeve.  His nose was blotchy and his eyes looked irritated.

"Can I - mage, I made an oath to take care of you, and Justice's well-being is part of that."  Fenris heard himself ask, feeling surprised,  but . . . resolute.  That was no demon, practically weeping fire from his eyes.  He was a person - a strange one, and in a very odd time sharing agreement with another one, but still a person.  "Tell me what Hawke did so I can help you both."

Chapter Text

“Tell me what Hawke did so I can help you both."  Fenris wouldn't say that, would he?  Maybe to the man, but not to the monster.  This was a dream.  It had to be.  He'd wake up trapped in that damn tower again, last ten years of his life gone gone gone, never happened, weren’t real, no one would -

Anders.  This is real.

He took a deep breath and stared Fenris in the eyes.  The elf stared back, concern etched in every line of his face.  "I - I don't know.  What helped, I mean.  She - she just cared."  He looked away, ashamed.  "It's - we're in the middle of nowhere, whatever she did doesn't matter anyway if we can't do it here."

Fenris frowned.  "Fasta vass, at least let me try."

"Well, we already tried the big one and it gave you flashbacks or . . .something and me - Justice - fine, both of us - a panic attack."  He shook his head, and started to turn away. "I should - we should just try to sleep.  Separate.  Far away.  Maybe you in Ferelden, me in . . . Nevarra?"

Fenris caught his elbow and tugged him back.  Not his hands.  He hadn't grabbed his hands since the first  (second?) time he'd lost his shit.  "We actually didn't."

Anders rubbed at his neck, confused.  "Sure we did: I lost my shit - again - cried in your lap, then fell asleep."

"You said sleep together, mage."  Fenris smiled faintly and squeezed his arm, but it didn't feel like the way the Templars had done it.  This was support, not restraint.  Reassurance, not punishment.  "I never slept."

"I don't -"

The elf made an exasperated sound as he stood up to look for his clothes.  "If my heat can be made more bearable by your scent -"

"Not just mine."

Fenris glared at him as he slipped his trousers back on.  Pity.  Those legs were marvelous.  "You are horrible and pedantic."

Anders smirked. "You mispronounced 'charming.'"  My mouth is going to get that fist put right through my chest one day.

"Fine.  You are charming, horrible, and pedantic, and we're going to try this again.”  Fenris crouched in front of him.  “You find my scent soothing, even if . . . distracting.  So we’re going to lay down, try to take a nap together."  He took a deep breath.  "But not in a tent."

"Yeah, someone jerked off in them both.  Incredibly inconsiderate."  Stop making sex jokes, you idiot.   He stuck his tongue out.  Maker, he really was going all out with a case of nerves all of a sudden.  Why did Fenris have this effect on him?  No, he knew why, he just wished he could turn it off.

Fenris rolled his eyes.  "What do I have to put in your mouth to keep you quiet?"

A giggle escaped his lips.  "What are you offering?"  Ugh, he was nearly forty.  Why was he still like this?

"Food, you insufferable man,"  Fenris scoffed.  "Food you should've eaten hours ago when you were insisting that you needed to take care of me."

"I'm not -"

The elf cut him off.  "If you won't tell me how Hawke helped you, we both have to endure some trial and error."

He shrugged helplessly and pulled his knees up to his chest. "I'm not . . .refusing to tell you, I just don't know , other than the shit we definitely can't."

“Define ‘can’t,’ mage.”

He waved an arm at their campsite.  “You see a fucking bathtub?  You see a five course meal?  You see any cats that can sit on my chest and purr?”

Fenris cocked his head.  “That’s it?”

“What the fuck you mean, ‘is that it?’”  Anders spat.  “I’m sorry that I find creature fucking comforts so helpful!”  Anders, be calm.   Shut up, he thinks I’m pathetic and I -

“It means we can work with that.  It means stop making everything into a disaster.”  Fenris rubbed his temples.    

“You’re in heat, and my spirit is having a panic attack,” Anders pointed out.  “What about this hasn't been a disaster?”

The elf arched an eyebrow.  “The sex.”

“I -” Maker, how was it even possible for him to blush with all the blood in his body still decidedly somewhere else?  “Well that’s -”

“Hush.”  He put a finger to Anders’ mouth.   “And stay put.”  

He fought the urge to lick it.  Maybe bite it.  “Omega’s orders?” he asked cheekily.  Why am I like this?

Fenris leaned forward and put his lips next to Anders’ ear.  “If that’s what it takes.”

Oh. 

Oh.  

Oh.

“You should rest,” the elf continued in that velvety tone that made Anders want to unlace his trousers with his teeth.  

“I’m trying,” he insisted, “but someone is being very distracting.”

“Is it working?”

He pressed a hand to his stirring arousal.  Bloody Warden stamina.  Blasted alpha urges.  Blighted lyrium.  “Depends on what you’re -”

A piece of jerky was stuffed into his mouth.  “Shut up and eat.”  

Turnabout was fair play and he had done the same thing to him earlier.  Plus that damn voice was irresistible.  He chewed obediently as Fenris dropped the bag in his lap.  “What, you trust me enough to feed myself?”  Damnit, Anders, just say thank you like a normal person.

“For the moment,” came the amused reply.  “Now shut up, lay back, close your eyes, and eat.”

“Can you bring me a pillow?” Stop pressing your luck, you’re fucking lucky he hasn’t killed you yet .  

“Needy, greedy alpha,” Fenris snorted as he crawled partway into one of the tents, giving Anders a lovely view of his ass.  He pulled out a blanket, folded it carefully, then propped it on one of the packs by the fire.  “Your accommodations are prepared.”

“What, you’re not bringing them to me?”  Stop it stop it stop it.

“You’re running your mouth when you should be eating, mage.”  Fenris pointed at the makeshift pillow.  “And you definitely want to lay here.  I have plans.”

“Sexy ones?”  he couldn’t keep the hope or the apprehension out of his voice.

Fenris smiled gently.  “I have plans.  Come here.”

Chapter Text

“I have plans.  Come here.”

How could Anders say no, even if he wanted to?  He crawled over rather than waste time standing up just to lie back down.  Fenris followed his movements with his eyes and licked his lips, probably unconsciously, but the sight sent shivers racing from his shoulders to his toes.  He rolled over onto his back, got settled on the blanket covered pack, and took another nibble of jerky.

“Close your eyes,” the omega told him.  

Anders tried and probably failed to hide his smile as he did as he was told.  The Templars had always made mages watch whatever they did.  But not looking, being allowed not to look, being told to let something be a surprise, that was safety.  Back with Karl, it had always meant a bit of fun.  In Vigil’s Keep, it meant a gift.  With Hawke, it had meant . . . Security,  he supposed.  Trust.  That said, he couldn't help being at least a little difficult.  Or perhaps . . . perhaps being just a little difficult was his love language.  “You know, I’ve already seen and handled pretty much all of you, there’s nothing about you that you should feel embarrassed to  -”

“Kaffas, I’m not disrobing.”  The elf was moving away as he talked.  “Now put something in your mouth before I do.”

Maker, it was so very tempting to continue being a cheeky bastard, but Fenris was right: he needed to eat something.  He snacked on jerky and listened to the other man putter, the clank of cookware being moved, the rustle of blankets being shaken out, possibly hung over the tents.  “What are you doing, anyway?”

“I’m taking care of you, mage.”

He started jiggling his leg.  “You’re not doing anything.”  

“It’s not ready yet, and don’t you dare sneak a peek.”

“I wasn’t!”  He’d been about to.  Damn that elf.  Was that - did he hear liquid sloshing?  “Fenris, you better not be about to pour anything on my head.”

“Be patient.”

“But -” A hand brushed his cheek, completely stopping his thoughts for a moment.  

“You are terrible at delayed gratification, mage.”

He - he and Justice both- leaned against that lyrium tingle as he looked for his voice.  “I - it’s hard -” it sure is “- to delay gratification when it could get snatched away.”  He swallowed, hoping he was still facing the other man so he could see his sincerity.  “Too many chances lost in waiting.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Anders.”

“You promised Hawke, I know.”  He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice.  Failed

“I did,” Fenris agreed.  “But that’s not why I’m doing this.”  The hand slid from his cheek to his collar, tugging lightly.  “Shirt off.”

What?  “What?”

The bag of jerky, now considerably lighter, was removed from his lap.  “Take.  It.  Off.  And keep your eyes closed.”

In for a silver, in for a sovereign.  Anders shrugged, pulled off his shirt, and held it out expectantly.

“What are you doing?”

“I can’t very well just throw it somewhere with my eyes closed and hope it doesn’t land in bear shit or the fire or something else.”  He waggled it impatiently.

“Helpless needy alpha,” Fenris chuckled, touching his wrist as he pulled the cloth from his hand.  “Roll over.”

“And you’re certain my trousers should stay on?”  Maker beat my ass, I am the worst.

“Anders,” Fenris rumbled in what sounded suspiciously like mock disapproval, “I can’t take care of you if you fight and flirt with me at every turn.”

“Wrong F-word,” the mage muttered as he rolled over, then let out a surprised breath as Fenris straddled him and sat on his ass.  Strong callused fingers trailed up his shoulders, tracing the scars he knew he was covered with.  Ladies love scars, he’d always said with a proud impudent grin, but that had always been a lie - well, not quite.  He was proud of them, because each one was a symbol of a fight he refused to back down from, no matter the consequences.  They marked him, but as a survivor, not a victim.

“It wasn’t a five-course meal, but you have now eaten.”  Fenris observed, putting some of his weight against the knots in Anders’ back.  “Do you feel better?”

Maker, what was the right answer?  If he said yes, would the elf move?  Justice, damn him, ended the debate.  “Somewhat.  Your weight above us reminds him of happier times.”  Damnit, Justice, don’t just  - you can’t just say shit like that!   Why not?  It is true.

Fenris laughed softly, a sound Anders felt as much as he heard.  "I find myself unsurprised.  You're a bundle of nerves - both of you."  He dug his fingers into Anders' shoulders, and it hurt, Maker it hurt so much, but in the right way, the healing way, like setting a bone or lancing a cyst.  He bit back the groan as best as he could, but Fenris was no fool, and his grip lessened slightly.  "It has been some time since I did this," he said by way of apology.

As he tried to catch his breath, Justice borrowed his voice againt.  "You were taught as a captive."

"Many of Danarius' favored slaves were extensively trained in a wide variety of professions and skills," he said.  "Maker forbid the magisters go without their creature comforts for a single afternoon."

"Fenris, we ask you that you do not do this if it brings you pain."

The hands slowed, but kept kneading into muscles Anders barely remembered he had.  "This wasn’t one of my duties."  His voice was flat.  

Anders felt an oily nausea coiling in his gut, but his own horrified curiosity prevented him from stopping Justice's next question.  "What did you have to do instead?"

Fenris' whole body stilled above him as lyrium pulsed and flared.  Was it with anger?  Fear?  "I swore I'd die before another mage took me."

“I do not -”   Sweet fucking Andraste riding Emperor Drakon naked through Orlais, I'll explain it later but don't make him say it, Justice, don’t you fucking dare.  Their wills clashed, a silent struggle between compassion and clarity.  Anders finally won out, but allowed the spirit a chance to exit gracefully.   "I am sorry."  Anders pushed his way back up through Justice’s concern.  Concern for both of them; that . . . was odd.  Not that Justice hadn’t cared about other mortals before, but to feel it mirrored so strongly and so distinctly was a truly bizarre sensation.  He twisted around and opened his eyes.  “Fenris, he’s right; nothing is worth -”

The elf pursed his lips.  "I will not throw away a useful skill simply because I find its origin distasteful." He pressed the mage back down.  “Hawke told me the way forward was to make a new life, did she not?”  His hands moved up and out, over his shoulders, down his elbows, to his wrists, then the lightest of touches as he grasped Anders’ hands gently, so gently, barely a suggestion of grip, a recommendation of where to move his arms rather than any sort of manhandling.  As Fenris dragged his arms up, he leaned over him, covering his entire back with his body, and the lyrium against his spine felt like fire and ice and agony and -

Maker, did I really?  He shifted slightly under the other man’s weight, and that was definitely a wet spot where there shouldn’t be one.  “Fenris, I need to piss.”  That is a lie.  Shut up, lyrium slut.  I’ve never reacted to it like -

“Liar.”  Fenris’ mouth was right beside his ear.  “You think I can’t smell what just happened?”

Chapter Text

“Liar.”  Fenris pressed his mouth to the mage's ear.  “You think I can’t smell what just happened?”

"I'd rather you didn’t," the human muttered, almost to himself.

"And yet here we are."  He breathed in the alpha’s scent below him.  

He twisted enough to look him in the eyes. "Fenris, I won't, don't, please, if you don't mean it, please don't; if you feel like you're supposed to, please, please, I won't - you don't have to do any of this."

There was something almost intoxicating about him.  Not just his smell, (heady and rich), not just the way it felt as the mage unknowingly rocked back against Fenris' own stirring arousal (delightful), not just the stifled pleasured gasps (musical), not just the taste of the sweat beading on his neck and shoulders that he licked from his fingers (delicious), not just the sight of him biting at his lips (so kissable); it all added up to Anders, a man so much more than a sum of his parts, and not least because he was carrying around an entire second person.  He was so concerned, but not for himself, never for himself.  Here he was, at Fenris' mercy, for no matter how loosely he was held, that could change in a moment, but he didn't care - no, the abomination trusted him.  He truly did.  

And what a miracle it was to behold.  

He released the mage's hands and sat back, afraid.  Afraid to do something wrong again, to cause him more pain.  "Anders?"  He asked, unsure what his question actually was.

The mage shivered.  "You don't have to do this."  His voice trembled.  "I don't need it, and I don't want it if it's out of fear or -"

"Anders, stop."  Fenris pressed between his shoulders firmly, forcing him flat.  "I can literally move through you.  Why should I fear you?"

"You said you're afraid of magic," the human answered, voice muffled by the blanket.  "How else should I interpret that?"

He paused.  He had said that, hadn't he?  "You don't scare me." He said it slowly, testing each word for truth.  "You worry me, but you - what could you possibly do that I wouldn't be able to stop?"

"But Justice -"

"Wouldn’t do anything to me except in self-defense."  He snorted.  "Is it self-defense when it's another person in the same body?"

"He can debate you on that laterrrrrrrrr . . ." The last syllable turned into a drawn out groan as Fenris dug his thumbs into the mage's back.  "Maker's hairy muff, I've already died, haven't I?  I'm in the Fade, the demons had had their fun, this is the paradise of whatever other fuckery we're supposed to get if we say our little prayers and burn an apostate everyday Feastday, right?"

He patted Anders' shoulder.  "This is real."

"Justice said that too,” the mage grumbled.  “I guess this really must be happening: pinned below you and suffering the indignity of soiled trousers and massage."

Fenris leaned down again, more carefully this time so he didn’t press his lyrium quite so firmly against the mage’s spine.  Having that effect on him was exhilarating, but not one he wanted to abuse.  “Is that such a terrible fate?”

“Only - only the part when it ends.”

“Yet you keep insisting I shouldn’t do this at all.”

His shoulders tightened.  “I know what it’s like to convince myself I want something.”

Fenris was going to behead the next Templar they saw.  “You still don’t believe me?”

“Oh, I believe you.  I just don’t believe you.”  He sighed.  “No, that doesn’t make any -” blue cracks formed across his body.  “He fears you will change your mind.  He fears your mating urges have blinded you.  He is convinced that anything you do for him is driven by desperation and instinct.”

He was straddling a Fade spirit.  It tingled.   Distractingly.  “Have I ever been so fickle?”  

“No.  Your constancy has been a great comfort to him, even when it was hostile.”   Justice paused.  “He needs certainty, but I cannot provide it.  Actions over words.  I am nothing but words to him now.”

Fenris brushed his hands across the crackling Fadelight in Justice’s skin.  The glow brightened at his touch, and he wondered briefly how far that light carried through the trees.  “I think,” he said softly, “that Anders isn’t the only one in need of certainty.”

“I am Justice.  That is all I need to be.”

He shook his head.  “Not any more.”  He climbed off and sat next to him.  “Has - is Anders still . . . around?”

Justice rolled over.  “He is.  Do you need -”

“No, let him rest.  I - he’s worried that he’s influencing me, correct?”

 “Yes.”

“Despite the fact that I’ve said I killed alphas tracking my heats?”

“That you can overcome an urge when the alternative is death or imprisonment is admirable, but you are not in mortal peril at this moment.”

“And you think that makes me more susceptible?”

Justice sighed.  A very mortal noise coming from a decidedly not mortal creature; further evidence that the spirit needed and was far more than an embodiment of an ideal. “We do not know.  It is a concern worth noting.”

“We’ve noted it.  Repeatedly.”  Fenris touched Justice’s hand.  The spirit started and looked at him in confusion.  “Any sway he might have on me is gone when you’re here.  His scent, your presence, they’re different.”  He pulled that hand to touch his face.  “Even if you didn’t glow blue, even if I wasn’t in heat, I’d know who’s here.  And I know my own mind.”  He tapped Justice’s fingers as he closed his eyes and bared his throat.  “I’ve killed men for laying a hand on me.  Many times.  You or Anders were there for much of it.  And I swear to you, to both of you, that anything I do is of my own free will and desire.  I have said that I trust you, don’t question it again.”  

The hand on his face stopped tingling and slid into his hair, not pulling, but clutching needily.  “Fuck fuck fuck, Fenris, just kiss me.”

He’d been wanting to anyway.  Had been waiting for Anders to put down enough guilt and fear to let him.  He felt upon the mage with savage passion, sucking on that luscious lower lip as his hands ran across his bare chest, then down, down, skirting that wet spot to grab his hip so hard it might bruise but Anders moaned into his mouth at the pressure, so he didn’t let up, just dragged him closer, folding him into his lap and exploring him the same zeal Bartand had shown when he shout about deflowering a virginal thaig.  

He wanted to know everything about the mage.  Everything.  Every sound he could make, every spot on his body that made him sigh or shiver, every story behind every mark on his skin.  Everything.  

And the mage gave it freely.

Chapter Text

Anders writhed below Fenris, gasping and clutching at his arms, his shoulders, his hips, everything but his hair - he remembered not to - in exquisite desperation as the elf nipped and licked along his jaw and down his throat.

"Maker, Fenris, I want this, I want this, but I can't, I have to -"

He covered the mage's mouth with his own, kissing him fiercely until Anders had gone boneless underneath him.  Mostly boneless - Fasta Vass, the human's terrible jokes were infectious.  As he leaned back to survey his handiwork, Anders smiled dazedly up at him.  "There's nothing you have to do, Anders."

"But, you can't just, I don't want you to just service me," he said.  "I'm not going to ask what you've been made to do, but whatever it was, I don't want this to be like that."

"It isn't the same at all.  I can stop this at any point."  He took Anders' wrists again, tugged them up over the mage's head, never with force, just gentle pressure.  Support, not restraint.  That's what Anders needed, it's what he always needed: space and freedom, but structure too.  At least, Justice needed structure.  And they both needed someone who could catch or steady them when they faltered.  "I choose this, Anders."  To stay with you, to catch you.  "I'm choosing you."

The mage trembled in his grasp, and Fenris could feel his length pulse and twitch against his thigh.  "For what?" He breathed, voice catching slightly.

He sucked at the edge of the human's ear. "For whatever I may take."  He bit down.  Not hard enough to break skin, but enough to make him groan and squirm.  "Make no mistake, mage.  I have no intention of 'servicing' you, but I will take my pleasure with you.  Thoroughly.  But not, however, without your consent."

"Maferath's seventhy-fourth testicle, it's all yours, it's been yours.  I just, I thought you hated me," Anders started to babble beneath him, "I've thought about you for years - he means he brought himself to orgasm on more than one occasion imagining the taste of your skin - thank you Justice, bit too much truth there, but yes, fuck, the number of times I jerked off in Hawke’s bathtub thinking about you and now you're here and pinning me down and looking like you want to fucking eat me and Andraste preserve us, this is the first time and the person that I wouldn't be fucking opposed to the idea."

Fenris wiggled the mage's wrists loosely held in one hand and resting on the pillow above him.  "You're hardly pinned."  

He struggled melodramatically, then shrugged.  "Varric’s not here to exaggerate, so that means it's my job."  

The elf swatted lightly at his hip.  “No, your job is to shut up and enjoy this.”

The mage tossed his hair impudently.  “No to the first, yes to the second.”

Fenris grasped his jaw gently and tilted him back to face him.  “Is that a challenge?” he asked, smirk tugging at his lips.

“Maker, I hope so.”  Anders grinned.  “Care to make a wager for what gives out first?  Your stamina or my mouth?”

He hummed thoughtfully as he pressed his face against the other man’s throat.  Was that what he wanted?  To make a game of it?  He was enjoying the playful banter, but it was just one more thing to think about, to worry about.  “Perhaps . . . another time,” he murmured, unsure.

Anders went still, but the elf could feel and hear his pulse speed up in a panic.  “Fenris?  I didn’t - was that too far?”

He slid further up the human’s chest to rub his cheek along the other man’s jaw.  “I will tell you when you have gone too far.”

Anders pulled his hands free to push Fenris up.  Not away, not a rejection, that much was obvious.  He looked at him with eyes full of concern; kaffas, he was always so concerned.  About everything.  “No, no, that’s not good enough.  I don’t want to go too far.  I need - Fenris, I need you to tell me ‘no.’  To be able to tell me to stop.  I know you can defend yourself, but I need … I need to know that you know I won’t do something that will make you feel like you need to.”  

The elf frowned and sat back, straddling Anders thigh.  "You know I would kill you for it.  You wouldn't dare."

The mage shook his head.  "No, it's -" he flopped backward onto the pillow with an exasperated sigh as Justice surfaced once again.  "I believe you misunderstand our - his - our fear."

He crossed his arms.  "Then explain it."

"He is afraid to abuse you."

"He should be."

"You have already gone catatonic once, and already attempted acts you previously stated you would not consider."   He had the grace to look embarrassed.  "Some of which I encouraged, to my shame."

"And you haven’t done any of that the moment there was an issue."  Fenris scowled.  "I am not this fragile."

"But he is."   The spirit trailed his hand up the elf’s bare chest.  "I cannot protect him from himself.  From his fear of becoming the monster they told him he was since the Circle took him.  He needs to know what you will allow.  What you want."  Blue light of Justice’s presence flickered and dimmed to nothing.  Anders threw an arm over his face.  "He's got a way with words, doesn't he?  Doesn't talk so much as proclamations, or maybe entreaties.  And he does have a point, even if he ruined the moment again."

Fenris watched him become increasingly flustered at his own stunned silence, but couldn't seem to make himself react.  Anders, afraid of himself?   That . . . made far more sense than he liked.  He opened his mouth, but the hopeful look in the mage’s eyes made him close it again.  He didn’t want to do this wrong, didn’t want to make it worse.

"Damnit, say something," the human snapped as he rolled to his side and pulled his leg out from under Fenris.  "Tell me this makes sense, tell me I'm crazy, don't just sit there and stare and fucking judge me!"  He took a steadying breath and rubbed his hand against Karl's mating mark.  "Not for this."

"No."  The word fell from Fenris' lips, surprising him as much as the mage.  He crawled forward slowly, giving Anders his own chance to tell him to stop, but the other man just looked over his shoulder at him in peevish confusion.

"No what?  You're not judging me, you dont think I'm fucking crazy, you don't think this makes sense, what?"

"You wanted me to say something," Fenris rumbled, inching closer.  "You wanted to know if I can deny you, if I'm willing to stop you before you do things we'll regret."

Anders' eyes widened slightly as he started to catch on.  This then, was a game.  A new one.  "Tell me no, then."

"Absolutely not," he replied, settling down behind him to wrap an arm across Anders' waist.

"You have to," the mage whispered, pulling Fenris' hand up his chest and to his mouth, where he kissed each finger.

Fenris kissed the back of his neck "I do not."

The human arched into him, whimpering.  "Fen, Fenris, please tell me not to do this, not to roll over and kiss my way down your entire body.  Tell me no, please."

Begging again, and with those delightful breathy moans.  Whatever trepidation he'd felt earlier vanished.  He tugged at the mage, rolling him over to press them chest to chest, then leaning in close.  "I refuse.  Now kiss me."

Chapter Text

"Now kiss me."

Desire and want thrummed through Anders, echoed and magnified by the lyrium tingling against his chest.  How could he deny Fenris?   Why would he even want to?  He dove in, buried his nose against his collarbone, closed his eyes and inhaled as deeply as he dared without making his lungs burst, then nuzzled back up to his jaw dragging his lips along the skin and marveling at how smooth it was as he captured Fenris' lips once more.  Maker, he could spend hours, days, weeks, just tasting the elf's mouth before he would ever feel complete again, but there was so much more to him, so many things he wanted, so much -

Hands rolled them both over, pulling him on top of the smaller man.  Anders didn't mind, but . . . "I don't want this to feel -"

"I put you here for a reason," Fenris growled into his throat.  "If you worry for yourself, you will say something, but otherwise, trust me to know my own mind."

"I always worry," he murmured.

"You think you have me pinned?"  Fenris chuckled beneath him.

The sound sent fire down Anders' spine.  "No, but -"

"Fine."  The warrior, because Maker, he truly was, made of sweat and violence and cold calculated speed and so very very sexy like that, scooped his hands under the mage's ass, making him buck and shudder, because being touched like that, anywhere close to there, it had been even longer for that since -

Focus on now, not then.   Justice pushed the memories of Karl away as he found himself hoisted up, legs dangling briefly before he wrapped them around the smaller - no, Fenris wasn't smaller, he was larger than life, a towering beacon of everything that the world should be, could be, needed to become - the other man's waist as he slid his arms around his shoulders and pressed his face to his throat.

"I don't recall telling you to stop kissing me."

"Fucking bossy," he retorted, nibbling up to the elf's ear.  The only sound he made was a faint inquisitive clicking sound before his hands flexed, digging into his flesh, so near yet so far from what he really wanted but couldn't ask for.  Penetration wasn't up for debate, shouldn't be. Not now, maybe not ever.  Be happy with what you have, it's more than you ever deserved or expected.   The ear was the right decision though, because the Fenris teetered unsteadily before pressing him almost roughly against . . . Probably an oak tree.  Birch, Anders.  The bark is smooth and white and - Thanks Justice, don't actually care.  

"Anders."  Fenris whispered it against his collarbone, over and over, and Maker, if he were a mage, the alpha would swear that murmured chant pressed into his skin was its own kind of spell, woven out of desperation and half a decade of yearning.  He tried to lean down, or pull his face back up, something, anything to actually breathe in those words, to absorb the safety they represented into every fiber of his being.  

He felt a pinch and pulled back.  "No blood."

Fenris paused.  The starlight reflected in his eyes as he glanced up in confusion.  "Of course not."

"No, the-" he untangled a hand from the elf's hair to point at the purpling bruise forming on his chest.  "The taint.  You can mark me all you want, but don't break the skin."

"I intend to, little alpha."

Thank the Maker he was already pinned against a tree or his legs would've given out right then.  "Andraste’s ashes, Fenris, your voice, it makes me want to, to, to do everything to you," he mumbled, not even realizing he'd spoken out loud until Fenris stiffened up in his arms, but not the sexy kind.  In fact, that had just gone . . .rather the opposite.  Fuck, fuck, not like that, fuck!   "I don't, Fenris, I didn't mean I was thinking about -"

"I know." The elf leaned into him, pressing him hard against the tree.  "You wouldn't do it, that much is clear.  But I - sometimes, the things that you say, they remind me of him."  He didn't look up, but did start rubbing his cheek along the marks he'd already left on Anders' skin.  "But you are not him.  You smell different, you speak different.  You like for me to be in control of you, you allow this -" he pinched Anders' nipple hard, making the other man whine as he bucked against him "- not just allow it, you want it, you need it."  He shivered.  "You are not Danarius, and you never could be."

"Maker, kiss me again," Anders begged.  "Fucking flatten me against this damn oak tree -"

"Birch," Fenris corrected, as he did exactly what Anders craved, leaning into him, practically crushing him just like Karl used to behind the bookcases in the library, making him light-headed and desperate and so incredibly impossibly hard.  Again.  What was it about Fenris' heat that had him so insatiable?  Simple Warden stamina had never left him this aroused this easily or this often before.

The sound of wood cracking filtered into his lust fogged mind.

"Fen, the-the tree." He tried to say it like a warning, but it just came out a breathless whine, but Fenris swallowed up his words, his breath, his thoughts as the elf's teeth tugged at his lips, as fingers dug into his thighs.  He tried to hang on, focus long enough to say it again, but all that delicious pressure just made his thoughts go white and sparkly; he loved being damn near smothered by another body pressing into him, had missed it so much, and maybe it was a different tree groaning somewhere under the weight of two other men, or perhaps it was just a sound trees made sometime.  He clutched at Fenris' back, feeling those powerful muscles coil and shift as the other man growled low in his throat, thrusting against him, harder this time, and Maker, it was more than he'd ever even let himself fantasize about.  He moaned into Fenris' mouth, pulling him tighter, urging him on, nevermind that this was dry humping in the middle of nowhere, that they were already on the last of their clean clothes, it didn't matter, he'd fix it with magic later, this was all -

The tree broke, sending them both sprawling.  Anders fell more or less straight down, but Fenris tripped forward, landing on top of the mage, straddling his chest and slamming a lyrium-lined belly right into the human's nose.  Contact with the tattoos sent spasms of desire along his nerves, and before Fenris could rise up, the mage wrapped his arms around his hips, holding him close and sucking at the flesh greedily.  He tasted even better than he smelled, and Anders hadn't even gotten to the fun bits.  

"That was -"  The elf broke off as he shifted above him, starting to pull away, but Anders hugged his waist and kept mouthing soft kisses along his skin.

"Don't, don't move, please," the human pleaded softly.  "Don't let this be over."

Fenris continued to pull up, but more slowly, and ran a hand over his cheek and through his hair.  "You're bleeding," he said.  "The tree - something must've hit your face when we fell."

His heart started racing, but this time with fear.  No blood, never let a non-Warden touch your blood.   The Hero of Ferelden's warnings rang in his memories.  Anders slapped a hand to his head, mending broken skin instantly, then summoning enough ice to his fingertips to rinse away the blood.  "Shit, I'm sorry.  You get any on you?"  Fenris shook his head and sat up.  This time, Anders didn't argue, firstly because the sight of the elf above him was breathtaking and secondly because he wanted to check him over for any blood splatter.  You want him to disrobe.   It can be both, damnit! Actually, Justice had a good point.  I do not.   "You should, um, take off your trousers.  Make sure none of my blood got in - on - you."

The elf leaned back and crossed his arms.  "You're that concerned?" He asked with a smirk.  "No, ulterior motives?"

"I am a healer," Anders humphed while tugging at his waistband.  "The fact that I've been desperate to get my mouth on you for at least a day has almost no bearing on this situation."

"Well, as long as this is just medical."  Fenris came to his feet with the same fluid grace the mage had always tried to ignore.  "What shall you do if you find any?"  His gaze raked over him, leaving him hot and cold.  His tongue felt stuck to the roof of his mouth as the other man slid the rest of his clothing off and settled back down to straddle his chest.

"C-clean it," Anders stammered, all higher thoughts fleeing at the sight the man's length right fucking there, beautiful and erect and -  Check for blood.  Anders sighed.  "But I do need to need to make sure you didn't -"

Fenris phased out above him, nearly sank inside his torso for a moment and the feeling had Justice whimpering for more in an incoherent stream of memories and images that made no sense at all while still clearly meaning as much want for the elf as Anders had himself.  "There isn't any."  He inched forward.  "But you're the healer, so I'll defer to your examination."  He touched a finger to the moisture beading at the tip bobbing so tantalizingly close, then pressed it to Anders' lips.  "I expect you to be thorough."

Chapter Text

Anders licked Fenris' finger, and maybe it was his heat or his lyrium, or maybe it was Justice crooning happily in the back of his mind, but everything about having his mouth on the elf felt unequivocally right .  The same way blowing up the Chantry had felt, the same way merging with Justice had felt, the same way saving a child from a wasting sickness had felt. Anders reached up to grasp him, but the other man chuckled and scooted forward again, pinning his shoulders to the ground with his knees while leaning over him, putting some of his weight on his hands.  "You said you wanted your mouth on me, mage. I would have that alone."

Before he was even done speaking, Anders lunged upward as best he could, catching the tip on his second try and fucking Maker what a feeling, what a taste.   He bobbed along Fenris' length clumsily, partially out of nerves, partially out of being so very out of practice.  The angle and not being able to use his hands didn't help either, but what he lacked in quality, he made up for in enthusiasm, lapping and sucking for all his might, trying to pull his arms free enough that he could sit up and take him further.  When that failed, he moaned and whined around Fenris' hardness, trying to break through that control like he had before when the other man had spilled all over them both, crying out in ecstasy, but all he got for his efforts were soft gasps and the barest hint of thrusting.  The movement was so tiny, so precise that he wouldn't even have noticed without those knees pressing into his arms, flexing ever so slightly.

Well, it was something.  And if Fenris aimed to tease, Anders could tease right back.  He let his head drop back, but slowly, testing how much Fenris would follow after.  The answer, it turned out, was enough to keep his lips happily suckling to his tip, and now that he wasn't holding himself rigid over the mage's face, his rocking became just a shade harder and faster.  It was during one such downward thrust thay Anders surged up again, swallowing far more of the elf than he'd managed before.  The other man hissed a curse and froze again, muscles tensed and shaking, but his focus was broken enough that the mage could slip his arms free, and grab the other man's hips, pulling himself up as he tugged Fenris forward, deeper, pressing him all the way to the back of his throat.  It wasn't as much as he wanted, but it had been at least seven years, so he'd need to work up to it.  Hopefully a certain incredibly sexy omega would be amenable to some practice.

"Anders," came the breathless sigh, above and behind him, and it was too much to hear his voice like that, dripping with desire, and suddenly all the mage had ever wanted was to taste Fenris' spend on his tongue.  He pulled off; he didn't want to miss tasting a single drop, so he needed to catch his breath, to focus on not bruising his throat in reckless passion.   Fenris also seemed to appreciate the break.  "I find few flaws in your methods.  Truly, you are an excellent healer."

"Bet you say that to all the cute blonds with their lips around your cock."  Stupid stupid stupid just get back to sucking so you don't ruin this.

The elf laughed, a rich full throated rumble that set his erection bobbing mesmerizingly.  "I suppose I have.  All one of you."

"I want to lick you like an icicle."  Oh no, had he said that out loud?

He could see Fenris' muscles bunch and coil as he shifted above him, seeming to take the comment far more seriously than it merited.  "What's stopping you?  He asked finally.

Please be permission.   "You said mouth only?" Please be permission.

"I ask again, alpha." Fenris sat back on his knees, straddling Anders' waist.  No, no, no, that’s the opposite of permission, bring it back, bring it back!   "What's stopping you?"

He laughed nervously.  A high excitable titter better suited to a teenage girl.  "Distance, at this point."  He shook his head to try to clear some of the lust cobwebs.  "I, Fenris, I honestly have no idea if I'm allowed to touch you right now.  I don't know what the game is."

"Anders, look at me."

He obeyed without question, snapping his eyes up to meet the other man's gaze, expecting annoyance, likely peppered with desire, but not . . . tenderness.  Oh, the lust was there, making him bite at his lips as he surveyed Anders' torso, already covered in red marks and bruises, and the annoyance was there too, but more like some kind of fond exasperation.  Anders had seen Isabela and Hawke look at each other that way for years, and now he was seeing it in Fenris?  Justice, is this real?  You are not in the Fade.  He cares about you.  As do I.  Mage freedom starts with you.  Freedom to love -  This isn't love - I mean, yes, I want that, it's part of being free, but it's only in that trash romance serial that the someone makes declarations like -

"Let me give you want."  Fenris trailed his hands up the mage's chest lightly.  "Tell me exactly what you want.  No games."

"He wants you to climax in his mouth."  Fuck you, Justice!  It is the truth.  You can't just - He asked, Anders.  As they argued, Fenris' eyes drooped, and he started - Justice shut up and - I will not, healthy communication is too important to ohh - Maker, he was stroking himself, right there, right on top of them right where they could both see and hear and smell and feel as he threw his head back and rocked into his hand.

They stared, slack jawed and awestruck, watched the show - and there was no mistaking it for anything for anything but that - almost silently, save for the occasional gasp Fenris did something particularly sexy.  He took himself to the brink once, twice, three times, pulling back from the edge at the last moment, leaving his skin a flushed stark contrast to the lyrium glimmering in the starlight.

"Good, I have your attention."  Fenris' words were as even and stoic as ever, but his voice was ragged and breathless.  "It shouldn't take much for me to give you what you asked for."

Chapter Text

Anders surged up, knocking him backward, sloppily kissing his forehead, cheeks, throat, both nipples, all ten fingers, and several body parts that he didn't know the name for in Trade tongue.  If the mage used his teeth, Fenris would've felt like he was being consumed, but instead, he felt caressed.  Adored.  The soft open mouthed kisses Anders dragged down his body were like fire and ice, but the kind that didn't hurt.  Each place Anders touched felt like a brand, marking him, claiming him, but not as property: as an equal, as a mate, as the man he loved.

Loved?   Before he could examine that thought further, Anders reached his goal, swallowing him down with a look of ravenous bliss, eyes fluttering as he stroked what didn't fit with those delicate fingers.  The other hand danced everywhere along his chest and hips, pinching, scratching, squeezing, waiting for Fenris' reaction, then doing it again if he liked it or trying something else if he didn't.  He thrust into the mage's mouth by reflex, then winced as Anders pulled back in surprise.  Before he could apologize, the alpha did something with his tongue and his vision blurred as he scrabbled desperately at the tree behind him to stop himself from grabbing the mage with both hands and just rutting into him.  Anders made a purring noise  sending vibrations all along his dick, then it was all over and he was arching his back, spending down the mage's throat, into his mouth, and on his face as the alpha pulled up at the last moments and let the final spurts go everywhere, even his hair.  He was a mess, he was filthy, and when he smiled, wiping fluids off his chin, licking his own finger thoughtfully, then offering it to Fenris, he knew he was in love.

And he had no idea what to do about it.

He grabbed the offered hand and pulled, tugging Anders close for a kiss that tasted like his own spend.  They kissed until they were both breathless, chests heaving under questing fingers.  They kissed until a light patter of rain started, and Fenris was about to suggest they retire to whichever tent smelled less like sex, but the rapture on Anders' face as he tilted his head up to the sky made him hesitate.  The alpha looked more divine, more blessed, than any member of the clergy Fenris had ever seen, letting the water wash away everything: his sins, his worries, his fears, everything.  Justice crackled along his fingers, never fully manifesting, but obviously present and aware.  Droplets of water dripped from Anders' hair down to his chest and Fenris had to resist the impulse to lick them.

But why was he resisting?  

Anders turned a beatific smile to the omega, and, before he could overthink it, Fenris pounced, knocking the mage to the ground and licking rain trails from his chest as he laughed, sounding more unrestrained than he had in at least five years.  This was the man he should've been, not without Justice, but not ground down by in justice.  They rolled over more time than Fenris could count, touching, kissing, sucking, grinding together.  The alpha spent himself three more times, once with Fenris' hands wrapped around him, and once with Anders sucking on his fingers as he flared his lyrium, and a final time as the omega came in his mouth again.  They fell into an exhausted tangle after that, damp with rainfall, sweat and spit, and semen.

"You - are you - did you get any memories?" The mage was still draped halfway over his chest, and covered in faint purple marks from hours earlier.  He looked like he couldn't decide if he should get comfortable or flee.  "You seem . . .lost."

"I'm fine."  He was, actually.   More than fine.  He hadn't felt this clear-headed and refreshed in - well, he wasn't sure if he ever had felt this good before.

"Only fine?  I know I'm out of practice but only 'fine'?" His alpha - no, the mage - reached up to stroke sweat-stained hair away from his forehead.

Fenris turned his head to kiss his hand.  "Fine is inadequate.  It was . . . better than I've ever imagined.  I've not felt like this since - " he closed his mouth so quickly his teeth clicked.  Tell me how much you enjoyed that, Little Wolf.  Anders was not Danarius and could never be like him..

"You still considering killing me?"  Anders asked lightly, stroking his cheek across his thigh in an obvious attempt to distract him from the dark thoughts simmering in the back of his mind.

Fenris chuckled softly as he tried to push away thoughts of a dead blood mage and focus on a living spirit healer, and rolled over, pulling Anders with him for what might turn into round four or five.  "Perhaps tomorrow."

The sound of birds chirping startled Fenris from his ardent exploration of Anders’ body.  He looked up from the most recent bruise he had sucked onto the mage’s shoulder - not a mating mark - in surprise.  Pink tendrils of light were creeping across the horizon.

“Did we really just come all over each other all night?”  Anders asked, breathless and dazed.  "Like fucking teenagers snogging behind a barn?"

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he tried to stretch a back that had been fixatedly hunched over the human.  "I - apparently."  He glanced at the bucket of water by the remnants of the fire, long since tepid. He'd intended to use it hours ago, to give Anders some approximation of a bath by wiping down his chest and back with a damp cloth.  Hawke had told him he would need to keep the mage grounded.  At the time, he'd thought she meant simply keeping him from foolish flights of fancy.  But now, it was obvious how much she'd held him together in the last few years.  He and Justice fed on each other, spurred each other on, but that passion was just as likely to turn into crushing despair as it was action without someone reminding them both that they had value outside of their chosen purpose.  "We should clean up, try to get some sleep."

Anders nodded, kissed him again, and rolled to his feet to grab the water pail.  A wave of his hand set the water to a more comfortable temperature, then he carried it back over to where Fenris sat at the edge of the clearing, by the destroyed tree and the churned up ground, both of which served as evidence of their nighttime adventures.  In the pre-dawn light, Anders looked bashful and hopeful, and Fenris wanted to take that hope, nurture it, and kiss away any trace of shame or fear left in his alpha's body.  He knelt in front of the omega and started to wipe away the traces of their coupling, frowning each time he encountered a scratch or a bruise.

"Fen, can I heal you?"  He had always asked before using any magic on him unless they were in the middle of a fight and it was a choice between survival or death.  Why had Fenris never noticed that before?

He shook his head.  "I want to keep them."  My Little Wolf must remain pristine; if you damage him, you will owe me the cost of his repair twice over.  

Anders didn't argue, just kissed each mark as he wiped it down.  It was over too soon, and the mage was standing back up to peel off his befouled trousers with a look of disgust.  "Not sure if these are worth the effort of a cleaning spell."  He reached for the bucket as Fenris did, and shook his head almost imperceptibly.  "You're not - I'd never expect you to -"

Fenris pulled him down for another kiss, cutting him off.  When they broke apart again, he pulled the pail from his hands.  "I am not your servant, alpha, and I will do as I choose.  Today, I choose to bathe you."  He kissed him once again.  "And then I choose to sleep, with you at my side."

Chapter Text

They awoke in the afternoon, still spooned together.  Fenris sat up and stretched, marveling at how loose his body felt.  Even the markings felt somehow . . . lighter.  Still uncomfortable, but less than they'd been in a decade.  Barely noticeable, really.  He would've expected a marathon of lovemaking to leave him sore, but he felt relaxed.  Like something inside him had finally been freed.  Was this what it was like to have a lover?

He brushed his hand on Anders’ shoulder lightly as he leaned forward to kiss his neck.  As Anders shivered and sighed happily, Fenris realized with a sinking feeling that he’d kissed whatever was left of Karl’s mating mark.  To cover the transgression, he nuzzled up behind the mage's ear.

Anders hummed contentedly as his touch then rolled over with a sleepy .  He tugged Fenris' throat down to his nose and sniffed deeply,  making the omega tingle all over.  "Your heat ended?  Already?"  He frowned in confusion.  "That's-"

"Not normal, I assume?  It appears that many of my experiences are . . . uncommon."  He shrugged.  "As I said, I never attempted to plan for them or track their pattern."  The heat was over.  No wonder he felt better.  Also, they could start traveling again, even if this was nice.  "We should be preparing to move on."

Something unpleasant flickered across Anders' face, then he nodded.  "To Rivain.  That's- yes."  

"Do you -"  Fenris stopped.  "Is that not what you wanted?"

"No, that was - is - the plan.” The mage sat up suddenly, pushing Fenris’ arm away.  “I need to wash some clothing first.  Those trousers are vile."   

The elf pursed his lips, confused.  "But you said this morning they weren't worth the effort."  

"I said a lot of shit this morning,"  Anders snapped.  "So did you."

He was bewildered.  "Mage, what's this about?"

"You want to move on, right?   I'm fucking moving on."  He crawled out of the tent.

"To Rivain!" Fenris shouted, punching the ground in fury.  Fury at his cursed blundering into every possible wrong thing to say, and at the mage’s inability to see every action he took as some kind of rejection.  "Why must you assume the worst every time I open my mouth?"

"Maybe it's something to do with the last seven fucking years!"  The mage yelled back.  "It was fun, right?  But you're done with me now, don't pretend and just make it worse."

The omega shot out of the tent so fast it collapsed behind him.  "How many times do I have to say it?" He demanded.  "Anders, I - I don't know what this is but  -" think I love you "- I want to stay by your side.  Here, Rivan, Antiva, Nevarra - Anders, I would go with you to Minrathous."

"You don't owe me," Anders spat.

He grabbed the mage's elbow.  "I don't owe you, you fool, I love you!"

Anders' expression softened and for a moment, Fenris thought he'd broken through all those hastily constructed defenses.  Then the alpha’s lips formed a grim line and he shook his head.  "You're lying to yourself.  You might not think so, but I've seen it in young omegas after their first time with anyone who doesn't treat them like shit.  You don't love a fucking mage, and you couldn't possibly love an abomination. "

Fine.  Time for a second opinion.  "Justice, am I lying?"

Anders glared.  "Now that's not fucking fair -"  Then the spirit was there, reaching to touch Fenris’ chin, tilted his head a few times like he was searching for something.  "You are not."

"How - can I get him to believe me?"  He leaned into the touch.  Justice wasn’t Anders, but contact with the Fade spirit felt almost reassuring.  He would never allow Anders to come to harm, and had already sought Fenris’ help with that twice, however misguidedly.

Justice tenderly stroked his cheek with his thumb.  "Time.  He needs time to feel worthy of it."

"I'm . . . surprised he let you tell me that."  Fenris arched an eyebrow.  

The spirit nodded.  "He is too."

"Surprised you did it or surprised he didn't stop you?"

Justice smirked.  "Yes."

Fenris snorted.  Knowing Anders' humor could influence a Fade spirit made Justice seem far less intimidating.  "He said I could never love an abomination."

"He did."

"And he's right."  He took a deep breath, feeling Justice's attention like a crushing weight against his chest as he chose his words carefully.  "That's . . . how I know you aren't one.  You're whatever the opposite is. A veneration, perhaps.  And I would fight at your side for whatever may come."

"In this, he believes you."

It would have to be enough.  For now.  He let go of the spirit’s arm.  "We have much to prepare if we want to leave tomorrow."

Anders resurfaced, looking faintly pink and flushed.  "Tomorrow?"  he asked.

“You think I would want to travel today?”  He pointed at the sky.  “My eyes are better than yours, but there are only a few hours of daylight left, and there is no reason to travel at night.”  The mage started to pull away, misunderstanding him again, but this time, Fenris didn’t let him.  “Not when I’d rather lay with you.”  

Anders turned back toward him, eyes wide.  His heart was pounding as the mage touched his face, like he was checking it was real, then tracing fingers down the lyrium line on his throat, wonderingly.  The touch didn’t hurt at all, a novelty in and of itself, but as he thought back, since the first spell Anders had begged to cast on him to try anything to give him relief, nothing the mage did caused him pain.  In fact, contact with the alpha was pleasant.  Soothing.  Without thinking about it, he pulled the other man to him for a kiss, then another, and another.

Packing and cleaning would have to wait.

Chapter Text

Two days later, they still hadn’t gone anywhere, and Justice was getting antsy.  This is becoming a distraction.   You said I fucking deserved it.  I do not wish you to part, simply continue.  His help has been invaluable, but we are not done.  A bit longer, please, I’m so tired of giving things up, let me have -

“Mage?”  Funny how it didn’t sound like a curse anymore the way he said it.  It was certainly more pet name than ‘alpha,’ that much was clear.  Fenris touched his shoulder.  “You’ve been muttering to yourself for twenty minutes while scrubbing the same pot without any soap.  What has Justice upset?”

“Why is it always about Justice?”  He didn’t even realize he’d spoken out loud until Fenris snatched his hand away.  He sighed.  “I - Fen, I’m sorry.  He’s - we feel guilty.  For the last two days.”

The elf arched an irritated eyebrow.  “This is about me.”

“Yes - no!” Anders hurled the pot at a tree angrily.  “He says you’re a distract - I did not, I said staying here is a distraction.”  The argument - the battle - continued internally and externally as they both tried to plead their case to each other and their omega.  Theirs?  He’s mine!   He is ours!

“I’m not fucking property!” Fenris snarled, catching their wrists, but still holding them lightly, even now, despite his fury.  He didn’t want to hurt them, he wanted them to listen.  “I am not property.   I am not a distraction and staying here was for your benefit, not-" he snapped his mouth together so hard that Anders winced in sympathy, and closed his eyes.  

Justice retreated, leaving Anders standing horrified and alone, eyes darting between Fenris' face and his hands.  "You're right," was all he could manage to say.   I fucked up, I fucked up, I'm as bad as ever other fucking alpha out there, he's not mine, and he sure as shit isn't yours.   He is ours to protect.   He really fucking isn't.   We're not taking him, we don't own him, we don't want to, even if I had given him a mating mark, he's free to fucking go.  But -   no, Justice.  This is exactly what we're fighting for.  He's free.

When the mage noticed the outside world again, the omega was still holding his arms, but almost as an afterthought.  Fenris watched him with something between caution and concern.  "You are not my master."  He said it quietly as he let go of Anders wrists, rubbing and checking them carefully for any damage he might've caused.  "You don't want to be my master."  

"Never," Anders whispered.

Fenris let the mage's arms fall back to his sides. "I am my own man.”  He went and sat by the fire.

Well.  That was it.  They'd fucked it all up.  This is wrong.  It's his decision.  It hurts.  Anders, why does it hurt?  Because you love him too.  Because we fucked up and we scared him and we can't - "Fenris, how can we make amends?" No, that's the opposite of what I - 

“You just fought with each other over whom I belonged to.”  The omega didn’t look at him.  “Tell me why.”

Why?   It was the same question that had started it all.  "I - we - shouldn’t have said that.  Some of it is the alpha in me, wish I could get rid of that, but I can’t.  Really, I just - I wanted something - someone - just for me.  Just for . . ." The human trailed off and heaved a sigh.  "It was nice to pretend, at least for a couple days.  That I could just be a man.  A man in love.” You can’t just - there’s enough shit going on without you saying things like that, thank you very fucking much.

Fenris didn’t even react as Justice casually threw that out there, thank the Maker.    "Who's pretending?"  he asked, still staring at the fire.

"Neither of us.”  There, I said, are you happy?   You did not, you merely did not lie about it.   Look, I’m trying but he’s - we’ve fucked this up so many ways, already.   “And out here, in the middle of nowhere, being 'distracted,' it could - this is enough.”  Anders ran a frustrated hand through his hair and tugged at it.  “But everywhere else, not so much.”

"Enough for what?" 

"To remind me that there are things to fight for.  Things I - we - have to fight for, even while everything goes to shit."  He shook his head.  "Selfish.  To want to be a symbol and a person at once - well, to feel compelled to one while wishing for the other."  He snorted ruefully.  "I feel uncomfortably more insightful about the reason for most Warden drinking habits though.  The Hero of Ferelden could drink rum like water.  Reality becomes too sharp the less of a person you're allowed to be.  And no," he snapped before Fenris could ask,  "this isn't about Justice."  A wave of disapproval actually made his knees feel weak.  "I - fine, it is.  But not like that.  He makes me a better person.  But I’m still mortal, and he still isn’t.  And then we - I - did that.”  He waved a hand back in the direction of Kirkwall.  “Even if I didn’t have Justice, I can’t - wouldn’t want to - be only me, not anymore, and that’s . . . to much.”  He turned to look for that stupid cookpot.  “Hawke should’ve killed me.”

Fenris ghosted in front of him and jabbed a finger in the chest.  Hard.

“Ow!”  The alpha rubbed at what was definitely going to bruise.  “What the fuck was -”

He poked him again.  “You are an idiot and a terrible martyr.”

“Obviously; if I were any good at this, I’d be dead,” he snapped.  You are a good man.  Shut up.

“Shartan was a symbol before he died.   Andraste was a symbol before she died.”   He tilted the mage’s head to face him.  “What’s the Warden creed?”

Anders glared at him.  “That’s not the same, and even if I was, I fucking ran away.”

“Say it,” Fenris demanded.  Commanded.  Maker, that voice just did things to him.

The alpha closed his eyes.  Thanks to Justice, he could remember the first time the Warden Commander said it like it was happening right in front of him again.  “In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice,” he said softly.

Fenris pulled him down for a kiss.  As soon as he recovered from his surprise, the mage fell into it with hopeless desperation.  This is it, this is goodbye, this is him saying he can’t do this.  Justice, remember this for me, please.

“You’re still at war.”   Fenris murmured against his lips.  “And you’re not done.  You wanted to rally the seers of Rivain, show the world that the Circles aren’t necessary.”  The elf took a step back, but left his hand lingering on the human’s shoulder.  “So that is what we shall do.”

He is not lying.  “Yes, but -”

"Fasta Vass, what part of ‘fight at your side' is so difficult to grasp?"  Fenris retorted.  "Am I so fickle?"

"A week ago, you hated me, so -"

“A week ago you thought I hated you,” the omega said.  “A week ago, I was furious with you for what I thought you did to Hawke.  And if this only means something when we are alone, it means nothing at all.”  He cupped the side of Anders’ face.  “So we will go to Rivain and find out.”

Chapter Text

That night, they slept in the same tent, but didn’t have sex.  Perfectly normal, we’ve been going at it like Chantry sisters for days now.   Fenris still spooned him, still brushed his hair away from his face tenderly, and still seemed to care, but it felt different somehow.  Like Fenris was only half there.  It had been an emotionally trying day, and he tried not to let his worry break through.  Fenris wanted to stay with him, and that was enough.

Sometime later, Anders woke up to a hand sliding down into his trousers and kisses on the back of his neck.  He arched into the omega’s mouth as he slid his clothing off, feeling a telltale bulge pressing against his ass.  He whined as he reached around to paw at Fenris’ hip, grinding them together and listening to the elf’s breath catch as the friction started to have an effect.  The bulge swelled against him, throbbing in time with the strokes of Fenris’ hand.  “Maker, whatever I did to deserve this, I hope I do it again.”

“You will, mage,” Fenris chuckled, making the human shiver.  “Of that, I have no doubt.”  He slid his other arm under him to pinch his nipple as he bit at the alpha’s ear and continued his lazy fondling.

Anders tried to thrust against him, but Fenris was merciless, letting go entirely or pulling away each time he jerked forwards or backwards.  He whimpered, he groaned, he tried to turn his head to kiss his - no, the - omega.  Justice, help me flip him or something, this is - this is nice, hush.  You slut.  Shut up, Anders.   Who’s distracted now, hm?  We both are, but we will still be leaving at dawn.  Enjoy this.

“Fen - Fenris, I - you’re playing with me,” he finally gasped out.

“You noticed.”

“S-stop or finish me off, please, I c-can’t -”

“You will.”  He pressed a kiss to his shoulder.  “You both will.”

Anders went still.  “Wait, did Justice put you up to -”

“We talked when you were asleep.”

Going behind my back, asshole?  It is not like that.  Now the memories came: him, no, Justice, simply Justice, rolling over last night to worriedly ask why he hadn’t wanted to be intimate that evening; Fenris trying to explain his fears of belonging to anyone, however different that meaning might be; Justice, sitting up so quietly, so slowly to avoid waking his host and pressing a soft kiss to Fenris’ forehead with the promise he would never be owned again.  I would not keep this from you, I merely had not had time to - 

Fenris flared the lyrium in the hand on their dick, rendering the spirit incoherent with bliss and the mage not much better off.  “I can hear you arguing with each other.”  He kept stroking slowly as he talked.  “Your jaw clenches.”  He rubbed his nose against it.  “You smell different the closer he is to speaking out loud.  We had a productive conversation.”  His arm tightened around Anders’ chest, pulling them closer.  “But now is for us.  Touch me.”

The human wasted no time, worming his hand between them to grasp that tantalizing length, and now Fenris was the one moaning and grunting, thrusting into his hand.  The needy rumbles were Maker-sent, but they could be better.  “Roll on top of me,” he whined.  “Please.”  There was no hesitation, just suddenly he was on his chest, ass slightly raised to allow space for the elf to continue to jerk him off as he draped himself across his back.  Anders let go of the elf to lean up on his elbows and press his ass against him.  “Fen, have you ever fucked anyone’s thighs?”

The other man squeezed him hard, making him groan.  “I think I’m about to.”  He let go and sat back, trailing a hand gently down Anders’ spine, making him shudder. The thumb rubbed so close to Anders’ entrance that he whined and thrust back involuntarily in remembered reflexes and desires from ten years ago.  The omega swatted at him lightly.  “Be still.”  Then hands were parting his legs just enough and Maker, Fenris was sliping between them and he wanted to get fucked so so badly but this would be enough, this was more than enough, more than he deserved or imagined.  He hung his head as he squeezed his legs together, listened to that hiss of pleasure as he watched Fenris slide between his thighs.

The omega reached down and grabbed him again, stroking him in a syncopated rhythm that made the mage’s head swim and a fire burn in his belly.  It was all he could do to stay even partially upright, and he only wanted to do that much because elf’s length peeking out just below his own arousal was one of the most erotic things he’d ever seen.  Too soon, far too soon, he felt like he was coming to the tipping point of his own release, but even as his pulse started to hammer and his breath quicken, Fenris let go, pulled him upright and slammed against him with a fierce cry that the mage felt in his bones.  Again and again, Fenris thrust between his legs, length rubbing against sensitive and throbbing flesh, until the alpha spent himself without a hand on him, almost sobbing with relief after what felt like hours of teasing.  The smell must’ve been the last thing the omega was waiting for, because he spilled himself with a ragged gasp to the back of Anders’ neck, then the mage was sinking back onto the ground, boneless and messy and covered in the both of them and he didn’t care and it was all he’d ever wanted and more than he could have hoped.

Proper morning arrived too soon.  Justice forced them both awake with an exasperated, “this is what you agreed to.”

Fenris merely smiled, clearly too pleased with how the night had gone to object to the consequences of his own actions.  Anders, for his part, felt wobbly and distracted.  Definitely not by the image of Fenris spending himself between his - yes it was quite attractive.   The vision danced in his mind’s eye and he groaned and pressed a hand to his tightening trousers.  Justice, don’t make me walk all the way to Rivain with an erection hard enough to hammer nails.

They packed up and stowed away the tents with a practiced ease borne of years of experience, not just in camping, but in working together.  It was funny, really, the more he thought about it: they’d been begrudging allies for so long that they already knew so much about each other, however unconsciously.  Fenris hated fish, but Anders had no memory of when or how he learned that fact.  Anders hated small cramped caves, and Fenris had often insisted on scouting them out personally to determine if they were worth the entire group’s time.  They had done their best to put aside their differences for Hawke, and somehow, without ever realizing it, had done it for each other as well.

The sky was still pink when they set off.  Not quite dawn anymore, but close enough that Justice wasn’t grumbling.  He’d learned a lot about mortal failings over the years, and while he could still push too hard, it was always out of misunderstanding, not malice.  I never intended you any harm.   I know.   He rubbed the side of his neck and patted his shoulder lightly, wishing he could look Justice in the eyes again, maybe give him a hug, even if he were in a bloaty gross corpse.  Hug Fenris, and then he can hug me?   It’s not the same.   No, but it is enough.  He sighed.

"What is it, mage?"  Fenris asked, sounding almost like the impatient asshole he'd been in Kirkwall.  Almost.  There was a thread of warmth in his dry gruff tone, and the hand that brushed Anders' wrist was concerned, not irritated, as they walked down the road.

Fuck it.   "I'm going to make a - no, can I ask you to do something . . . odd?"  He stared down at the ground. 

"Surely you can ask."  The omega squeezed his arm affectionately.  "But whether I will agree is another matter."

"Would you give Justice a hug?"  Maker, it sounded ridiculous.  “Both of us, really?”  Fenris didn’t respond immediately, and the alpha’s heart sank.  And I’ve fucked it up again.  Maker, why am I like this?  Hasn’t he done enough to -  

Arms wrapped around him.  “Like this?”  

Anders let out a relieved breath and clung to him.  “Harder, please.”

“Not the first time you’ve said that,” the elf chuckled as he did as he was asked, pulling him close and squeezing him.

Justice emerged almost tentatively, first in Anders’ chest, then spreading out more tenderly than the mage could ever remember, Maker it was almost like getting hugged from the inside out and the outside in at the same time and he buried their face into their - your - omega’s throat and took shuddering gasps and felt truly and completely loved since . . .since Karl.  It’s not the same, Justice, but you’re right, it’s enough.  Fenris’ own markings started to glow, but gently: like the warmth of a hearth as opposed to the danger of a wildfire.  He’s, Justice, he’s trying to give you everything you’ve missed.   He is succeeding.

“And - Justice, are you okay?”   The elf moved a hand up, not letting go or pushing away, but to wipe at the tears they hadn’t even noticed on their cheeks.

“This is very nearly overwhelming,” Justice rumbled into his shoulder.

“Should I stop?”

“Not yet.”

“I’m here as long as you need it.”

The omega settled both arms around his waist again, and they  stayed that way, in the middle of the road, lit up like a beacon, until Justice regretfully said, “this is precious to me, and I do not wish it to end.  But -”

“But Rivain awaits.”  Fenris released him slowly as he let his lyrium dim.  “I am not opposed to doing this again, though perhaps while sitting.”

As Justice let go of their body, Anders winced at how sore his hips and feet were at the prolonged standing.  “Sorry about that, I -”

“There’s nothing to apologize for.  As I have said, I would be a poor m - bodyguard if I didn’t take care of you.”

Anders frowned at him.  Mate?  Did he just almost say mate?  The elf noticed his scrutiny and looked away quickly, ears rapidly turning red.  “Just a bodyguard?  Any particular parts of my body you’re most interested in guarding?”  Why am I like this?

He shook his head and didn’t answer, but Anders could see a tiny hint of a smile as he picked up their bags and continued on.  The mage followed suit and spent the next few hours staring at  clouds and countryside as they slowly passed by.  It was nice to feel like he could just let his mind wander.  Nice to feel like he wasn’t on his own.  That someone was watching his back.  He glanced at Fenris just in time to catch him averting his eyes.  Perhaps watching something a little lower, then.  "You know, an alpha doesn't have to top," Anders blurted, then immediately regretted.  "Forget it."

The omega actually jumped back, clearly lost in thought and unprepared for conversation.  Or at least unprepared for this conversation.  "What?"

"You want a diagram?"  The mage asked.  "You -" he pointed at Fenris "- could fuck me."  He jerked his thumb at his chest.  “Like this morning, but actual penetration.”

The omega’s ears turned pink.  Again.  "Alphas don't -"

"This one does."

"You're as bad at this as you are at, at, at -"  the elf floundered for words.

"Jousting?"  Anders suggested.  "Archery?"  Anders, that is enough.

"At keeping your mouth shut," Fenris finished lamely.

Anders, stop.  "If my mouth is shut you can't put your-"

"Venhedis, just stop!"  Fenris shouted.  "With your mockery and your jokes and all your experience at, at all of this."   He threw his gear down and stalked away.

"I didn't- " Anders babbled as he rushed to pick everything up and follow him.  “I was trying to be funny.”  And I told you to stop.  Shut up.

The elf whipped back around.  "You failed.  And stop following me.  I need to …." His words faded away as he pushed his hair out of his face.  "Just, just don't.  I'll be back."

"Will you?"  His words were meant as a challenge, but Anders' voice was threaded with fear.  Calm down and let him walk away.  As you said, it is his choice.

Fenris paused, then unslung the sword from his back and slammed it into the ground hard enough to leave it quivering and upright in the soil.  "Hawke gave me this.  I would never abandon it."  He didn’t look at the mage as he walked away.

Anders didn't dare touch that sword.  For all he knew of Blades of Mercy, he wouldn’t want to even if it didn’t belong to a man who could literally turn him inside out.  He knelt down in the grass next to it and arranged their belongings in a circle around it.  First by size, then by type, then alphabetically.  He will return.   You don’t know that.   He gave his word and he is a man of honor.

Arranging them by color was both boring and challenging.  How many things in different shades of brown and grey did they have anyway?

He tried arranging everything by heaviness.  That took more focus, especially when he got to the small things that didn’t weigh much at all.  

“Anders.”

He jumped so hard he thought he’d dispossessed Justice.  Not funny.  “I  - Fenris - are you -”

The omega looked positively green.  "If you want this, I'll - I’ll try."      

Oh, shit.   Anders pulled him into a hug.  "You don't, you don't have to do anything."  He touched his lips to the other man's forehead softly.  "I won't mention it again."

The elf returned his embrace stiffly at first, but as Anders continued to hold him and murmur reassurance, the tension drained out of him. At some point, they sank to the ground, and Fenris somehow ended up not quite in his lap, but very close to it.  The alpha brushed healing magic into his neck and shoulders, and dropped gentle kisses in his hair.  

The shadow of the omega's Blade of Mercy stretched further than Anders was tall by the time Fenris seemed willing to move again.  He untangled himself carefully, regret in every lingering touch, and squinted up at the sky.  "We haven't traveled nearly as far as we'd intended."

"I don't think we'd intended me to be an irrepressible asshole and proposition you for more than you're comfortable with either."  The human tried to say it lightly. 

"That's . . . not entirely accurate.”  The omega flashed a brief predatory smile.  “I can’t say I want this, but I very much enjoy those sounds you make.  It would be a worthy challenge to find out how loud you can be."  He glanced around.  “Preferably before we are back in civilization.”

And there went his dick again, jumping to attention any time the other man said bloody anything sexy.   Not the time, not the time, we need to be clear headed, not dickheaded.   “I, um, that seems like - he is very interested.”

“I know preparation can help,” Fenris said softly.  Hesitantly.  “You’ll need to show me what will ensure the damage is . . .minimal.”

The alpha blinked at him, horrified, as all trace of his erection withered away.  “They went in dry?”   He shook his head.  “No, no, you don’t have to answer that, I don’t need to know, I’ll listen but, that’s - fuck!  It’s not supposed to hurt.  At all.”  Justice nudged him.  “Okay, maybe a pinch or two, but not, not, not - Andraste’s charred thighs, if it doesn’t feel good someone is doing something very very wrong.”

Fenris leaned forward to kiss his forehead.  “And you will teach me to do it correctly.”

His mouth went dry.  “I - if you don’t want, you don’t -”

“We’ve been over this, mage.”  The omega pulled his hands to his lips.  “Do not question my desires.  The methods, of course: you have a great deal more experience there.  And of course, if you don’t wish it -”

“Maker, I’ve been dreaming of nothing but you impaling me with your dick for years.”  Justice nudged him again.  “Okay, and horrible darkspawn shit, but that’s not something I ever looked forward to.  And that one that I had Pounce-a-lot again and he was the size of a bronto.”  He paused again.  “But mostly your dick.”

Fenris chuckled, then the chuckle turned into a laugh, then the laugh turned into a wheeze as he doubled over, tears of mirth streaming down his face.  “I’m sorry - you - did you really -” he chortled again, actually tipped over in the grass giggling - giggling!  “A bronto-sized house cat?”  His amusement was infectious, and soon enough, the alpha was stretched out next to him and snickering uncontrollably.  

Sunset faded into twilight as they laid together, twining their fingers and staring at the stars.  “We’re not traveling anymore today,” Anders said apologetically.

Fenris rolled to his side and put a hand on the alpha’s chest.  “I think as long as we make some progress each day, Justice will have few complaints.”

“We can hope.”  He flicked his eyes to the moon low in the sky, then frowned and glanced back at the elf.  “You’re not just being literal, are you?”

The omega paused and pursed his lips thoughtfully.  “I suppose not.”  He slid his hand up to Anders’ chin and dragged his thumb across his lips.  “Justice told you what we talked about?”

“That you’re - saying you’re -” Anders swallowed.  He didn’t even want to say mine, even when talking about not saying it.  “Fen, I don’t own you, I don’t possess you - you’re not property, you’re not a slave, you’re not a toy, and you’ve already - Maker, I don’t even deserve what you’ve shared with me, and -”

A hand covered his mouth gently, but firmly.  “Stop.”  Fenris’ voice was harsh and angry.  “Why do you always say that?  That you don’t deserve it?”

The alpha swallowed uncomfortably as Fenris pulled his hand away.  “I’m a mage.  That’s - that tends to be enough.  We’re living proof of the Maker’s disdain, corrupted the Golden City, and caused the First Blight.  We don’t deserve lovers, or children or freedom.”  Karl dying in his arms flashed in his thoughts, but he knew it wasn’t Justice’s fault.  This was all him.  “We barely deserve our minds.”

“You know this to be untrue.  You wouldn’t fight for it if you didn’t.  Why does Justice let you lie about this?”

“It is not a lie if he believes it.”  Anders didn’t try to take control back from Justice for this.  He could explain it better.  

 Fenris frowned.  “I don’t -”

“The poison of the Chantry festers in his soul,” the spirit continued.  “There is no spell to remove it, not even blood magic.  Hawke was showing him the way out, but then she -”  He stopped, rage and despair overcoming his speech.

“She what?”  Fenris prompted quietly.

Justice ceded control of their body willingly, almost gratefully.  “He didn’t take it well,” the mage said quietly.  “When she made us leave.  It was - Maker, she should’ve killed me for all I -”

“Anders, look at me.”

Fuck, this again?   He shut his eyes.  “Last time you said that didn’t -”

“I know, I’m sorry.”  He felt his hand get pulled up to the elf’s lips then kissed.  “Look at me, please.”  It was the please that did him in.  Anders looked up grudgingly, steeling himself for more rejection, more horror, more pity, but when he met the omega’s eyes, he only saw understanding.  Sympathy.  Love?  He’d said it earlier, not quite balls deep in anything, but close enough really.  Fenris leaned forward and kissed his forehead before sitting back.  “Danarius ordered me to kill an entire tribe of Fog Warriors.  It didn’t occur to me to disobey until they were dead around me.  We have both been born again in the blood of others.  Do not diminish those deaths by refusing to live the life they gave you.”

“The Chantry didn’t give me shit except this fucking complex,” Anders snapped.

“I misspoke,” Fenris said as he started unbuckling Anders’ jacket.  When had he learned how to do that so deftly?  “They gave you nothing except an opportunity.”  The coat was out of the way, and Fenris slipped his hand under his shirt and up his chest, flaring his lyrium ever so slightly to create the tingling sensation he’d already discovered made the alpha’s eyes cross with pleasure.  “Do not squander it, amatus.”  

“I don’t - I’m not trying to,” he managed to gasp.

“Letting yourself live is hard.”  The elf palmed his erection through his trousers.  “You need to try harder.”

“Fuck, if that gets any harder, I’ll faint from blood loss.  Or constriction.”

“Then you better take these off,” Fenris chuckled.  

Maker, Anders had never disrobed faster in his entire life, yet still Fenris beat him out.  Cheeky bastard probably just phased through his clothing or something.  Wasn’t important, though.  Not when he had a man in his arms who had no reason to want him, had every reason to hate him, in fact, and yet still was still here, still kissing him, still trailing a hand down to his hip, still languidly stroking him and squeezing him and drinking in every noise he made like it was sweeter than wine.  The hand on him slowed as the other one quested between his legs hesitantly.  "You don't - Fen, I know you just said you wanted to try," the human whispered against his lips.  "But if you can't, if you start and you hate it, we can stop.  I'll - I don't need this, okay?  The decision is yours."

The omega's grip tightened, making Anders moan.  "Show me how, mage."

"C-can I use a bit of magic?" he asked.  "Not on you," he clarified hastily.

Fenris tensed slightly, but his words (and something else) were firm.  "Do it."

He summoned grease to his palm.  It was a modified spell that almost everyone with a cock learned at some point in the Circles: odorless, tasteless, not flammable, and evaporated within 6 hours without staining.  "Coat your fingers.  Don't worry about using too much; I can always make more."  Maker, was his voice shaking?  Why was he nervous?  He'd done this hundreds of times with at least a dozen people.  But mostly, those had been people who didn't matter much.  Not that he hadn't cared, of course; just that caring was dangerous, so everyone agreed not to.  

"Like this?"  Fenris asked, breaking him from thoughts that would've inevitably turned to Karl.  His finger traced the lines of Anders' palm almost lovingly.  "Now what?"

Anders moved to roll over.  "It's easier to reach if you're behind -"

"I want to watch you," Fenris said softly.  "I know you said it doesn't hurt but I need to see your face.  To be certain."

The mage blinked back tears and nodded.  It made sense, and he hated it.  Not that he minded the position; no, he hated that Fenris needed that kind of reassurance.  "Whatever you want.  Whatever you need.  You said it's for me, but this is for you too."  He dipped his fingers in the grease too, and reached down, just below his balls.  "I can talk you through it, but it's easier if I show."  He felt a flush creeping up his face and down his chest as Fenris kissed him once more then settled between his legs, staring intently.  

"I - follow my lead, I guess?" He joked breathlessly as he slid to the ring of muscles and rubbed gently, not trying to press inside, just giving Fenris time to join in.  Honestly, it was nice to have anyone even consider playing with his ass, no matter how far it went.  He closed his eyes and just focused on enjoying the sensations, not on hoping Fenris would soon be the one causing them.  The omega’s hand was still around his dick, at least, even if he hadn't done much with it for a while.  But, of course, as soon as he thought that, Fenris was pulling away, no, he was repositioning, but what could - oh.   

His thigh was pushed up, and he felt warm breath on his knee as a hand touched his, slicked up fingers sliding past his and stroking carefully.  "There, that's it," Anders sighed softly.  "Now, inside."  He inserted a finger slowly, barely breaching himself, and Maker, it had been so long that even that was enough to cause him to shudder and groan.  He felt Fenris stiffen against his leg, probably worried he was hurting himself.  "No, no, it feels good, I promise," he insisted, working himself open.  "It's just been so long that, that I forgot how good."

"Here?" And then Fenris was inside him too, pumping a finger in a delicate shallow rhythm that made him shiver with arousal.  He felt tighter than a bowstring yet somehow completely limp and at Fenris' mercy.  And there was nowhere else he'd rather be.  The elf slid deeper inside, first one knuckle, then two, then switching to a different, longer finger.  Anders followed his pace, going further in each time, then adding another finger, spreading them a little more each time to stretch himself out.  As he did, Fenris' breath grew ragged and harsh on the mage's knee, prompting the alpha’s eyes to snap open in concern.

"We can stop if you -"

"I want to be inside you," Fenris interrupted, slipping another finger inside him.  "To do just this is . . . inadequate."

He didn't argue.  Not this time.  Not with the lust burning in the omega's eyes and his fingers in his ass.  He simply nodded, and as Fenris scooted forward, he wrapped his legs around his hips loosely before offering him another handful of conjured grease.  "Slick up, then fuck me."  He paused.  "Please?"

"Only because you’re so polite," the elf muttered, but he did as Anders suggested, then lined himself up and pressed inside him, and Maker, he'd missed a finger in his ass, but he didn't even know how to describe how much he'd yearned - ached - for a proper dicking.  It burned and stretched exactly the way he'd hoped, and he writhed and quivered in ecstasy beneath him.  Fenris was barely halfway in when a gasp of surprise exploded from his lips, and he fell forward onto Anders' chest.  "You're so . . .it's so tight."

The mage wiggled underneath him, trying to hit the sweet spot.  "You're filling me up so well, but you can go deeper if you want."

"Don't want," the other man mumbled.  "Don't want to hurt you."

"You can't," Anders reassured him.  "This is what all that preparation was for.  I'm - Fenris,the only part of me that hurts is my cock, and that's because it's hard enough to cut diamonds."

Fenris tentatively rolled his hips, getting in a little deeper, then groaning.  "If I - I don't know how long I can last.  Or if I can be gentle."

"I don't need you to be."  The mage found a good angle to rock up into the omega, burying him further.  "Fen, you already gave me so much more than I deserve, you can take this however you like.  I promise I'll love it, just because it's you."

The elf bit at his nipple, making him whimper and paw at his shoulders as he bucked.  "You do deserve this."

“I’m a blasted Warden, Fenris, and I’m a fucking healer, so just plow me to pieces!”  Anders cried out.

That did it.  Fenris sat up instantly and slammed his way home, bottoming out in two more thrusts, then leaning forward to kiss Anders as he found his rhythm.  They fit together perfectly in this as they did in everything else: alpha and omega, human and elf, mage and warrior, but sooner than he hoped, but far later than Anders expected, Fenris' breathing sped up and his pace became erratic.  As he thrust in harder each time, Anders was almost there too, so close he felt like he could taste it.  He reached down to his own throbbing arousal, but the omega slapped his hand away and nipped at his collarbone.  “You deserve this, alpha.  You deserve pleasure, not just release,” he growled.  “And I will -” Fenris’ voice caught and he shuddered.  “I will have my fill of one before the other.”

The mage threw back his head and whined, digging his heels into Fenris’ thighs and rutting up against him.  “Take it, take it, you can have everything!” he cried as the elf sat back to pull his hips off the ground.  Again and again the omega pounded into him, all hesitance gone, only desire and need and love, yes fucking fine he loves me and I love him and I deserve this.  With that thought, the dam broke, and there were tears streaming from his eyes and Fenris was lowering him in concern but Anders was lurching forward, kissing him all over.  “I deserve this, I deserve you, I love you too.”

Fenris pulled him into his lap as he continued to rock into him slowly.  “You deserve so much, Anders,” he murmured, licking his throat just opposite Karl’s making mark, and for the first time in twenty years, the thought of another one filled the alpha with elation, not dread.  He moaned and leaned into the elf’s mouth, grinding down and tensing inner muscles in time with Fenris’ shallow gentle thrusts, and when Fenris pulled away from his throat, he felt almost as disappointed and empty as he would've if he’d slipped out of him entirely.  “I want to, but that is - it wouldn’t be just to make that kind of decision like this,” the omega murmured apologetically into his shoulder.  “You wouldn’t have done it when I was in heat, and I can’t do it when we haven’t -”

The alpha dragged his face back to his for another kiss.  “Shut up and fuck me until I cry.”

Fenris huffed a laugh and dragged a thumb across the wetness on his cheeks.  “I think I already have.”  He laid him back down on the ground tenderly, stroking his face with a faintly glowing hand which sent shivers down his spine that made both of them flutter their eyes with pleasure. 

"In that case," Anders breathed, "can I get on top?"

"You deserve whatever -" was all Fenris managed to get out before the mage flipped them both over and started to ride him in earnest.  It was a miracle that Fenris hadn't spent himself yet, but the change in angle and in control had an effect almost immediately.  The elf’s eyes went unfocused and his hands crept up Anders' thighs, squeezing and tugging, until he got a hand on the mage’s dick.  

Anders almost sobbed as he spilled all over himself at the omega’s touch.  Fenris’ hips stuttered and slowed, but the mage sat down on him hard.   “Don’t, don’t stop, keep going, I need it, just fuck me, please!”  

The other man did exactly that, grabbing the back of Anders’ neck to drag him down for a savage kiss as he thrust into him once, twice, three times, then moaned into the mage’s mouth and spent himself inside him, rolling them both to their sides and peppering his face with kisses as they both tried to catch their breath.

Fenris kissed him once more before sitting up to ease out as gently as he could.  “Anders, I don’t belong to you.  But I am yours, amatus.”

The alpha smiled at him, feeling more content, more hopeful, than he had in years.  “And next heat, I’ll know you mean every word.”