"I fell for a man
who can sunder hearts in two,
and yet he does not.
(although I’m not sure
that he did not already
the first time we kissed)"
Fenris, in two parts (x)
This is my tumblr.
About me: 26, f, cis, white, bisexual/queer, neuroatypical, disabled* Um I usually go by 'Rhea' online so you can refer to me as that, or LL, or Liquid, or Lyrium, or LiquidLyrium or whatever I guess.
You have been warned.
*(able-bodied, mental/chronic illness)
This blog is also [often] very NSFW. (And homoerotic.)
Links of import:
SO LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT QUINNTUS HAWKE :U
Um I usually go by 'Rhea' online so you can refer to me as that, or LL, or Liquid, or Lyrium, or LiquidLyrium or whatever I guess.
You have been warned.
[[A short story about the first weapon of mass destruction in Thedas. Entirely silly, and hope that it cheers some people up who need cheering up.
Yes I know it’s more shameless Quinnris indulgence, but I promise it is silly and upbeat.]]
It was a book that was never supposed to see daylight.
The pages had been written down solely for the sake of preserving what little sanity one surface-loving dwarf had left. After telling so many stories, his relationship with reality was understandably tenuous at times.
Varric was a good man, a better friend, and the most roguishly handsome creature to walk on two legs that he’d ever met. Yes, if he said so himself, Varric Tethras was all-in-all, the best thing to happen to Kirkwall. Why, how many poor souls did he help simply by listening to their woes? Some people (less charitable than him) might have mistaken this for simply being nosy or enterprising, but Varric did everything from the goodness of his heart. And for the goodness of his pocketbook.
Still, though he considered himself a Paragon of patience, Varric could only stand to listen to so much woe from any one man. And it was one man. And, yes, it was so much woe.
In hindsight, everything had been his fault. He’d been the one to introduce them. Rather, Varric had been the one to find the job that led to the circumstances of the two men meeting.
Yes, six years (give or take) of suffering had been entirely the dwarf’s own fault.
If he hadn’t passed along Anso’s letter, then maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t be hiding in a rotted-out barrel in a cove down on the Wounded Coast.
Maybe he’d be in his own (not so little) suite at the Hanged Man, feet propped up by the fire and a tankard of ale in hand, instead of sitting in a puddle of brackish water on top of a wide, broken-off stalagmite—as he’d finally learned the difference.
He could only hope Hawke wouldn’t find him.
Fenris had almost made it to the door before he heard shifting from Hawke’s bed. If he was a smart man, he would have kept on going. He wouldn’t have stopped, but he did, hesitating in the doorway.
"Oh, you aren’t staying this morning?" The question was asked lightly, not quite carelessly—the charismatic man playing the near innocent with perfect guile.
The elf swallowed hard and turned around slowly to face the man, almost fearfully. The sight that greeted him tested his resolve. Hawke was leaning against the headboard carelessly, sheets pooled at his waist. And there was an empty space, the perfect size for an elf to tuck himself into, right beside him. Fenris managed to find his voice, “Regrettably, no, I must keep my appointment with the smith this time.”
Hawke started to trace his finger idly along the florid carving of the wood, but it was the motions of the man’s stomach as he breathed that drew Fenris’s attention.
"That’s too bad," Hawke said conversationally. Fenris swallowed again as a bare knee peeked above the rumpled bedclothes. "I had hoped you’d stay for breakfast," his tone was still too casual, too guile-less to be believed.
Fenris attempted to school his features into severity rather than open hunger, “Hawke…”
The rogue grinned briefly, ignoring the warning, “Mmm, well, if you leave I suppose I’ll just have to attend to my own needs.”
"Hawke—!" Fenris said the name sharply, but he choked on his words as the man slid his hand down his chest, down his stomach, under the sheets.
"Mmm," the Champion of Kirkwall hummed ponderously, nearly ignoring his lover as he slowly fondled himself under the covers. Fenris stood in the doorway, his hand gripping the door frame tightly enough that the wood creaked under his hold.
Fenris could neither move, nor look away as Quinntus started pleasuring himself, two hands now working at a very serious erection. He groaned when the man looked up at him, his eyes dark and beckoning. Fenris could only cling to the door frame. He knew there was something important he needed to do, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what.
Quinntus gave him a crooked half smile, and then rolled onto his stomach, groaning happily and thrusting shamelessly against the mattress. This was Fenris’s breaking point. He growled out a series of dark oaths in Arcanum, cursing Hawke with several unkind and unflattering sentiments as he kicked the door shut with his heel. He was still glowering and cursing as he shucked off his armor and threw his clothes onto the floor. It was less than a full minute before the elf was naked and attempting to slick his cock with oil and press a finger into Hawke at the same time. Fenris growled fiercely against the nape of his lover’s neck.
“You.. are… impossible!” he hissed quietly, adding a bite for good measure. Quinntus just let out a breathy laugh into the sheets—cut off by a gasp when the elf’s finger found its way inside. Fenris bit his lover’s ear sharply and growled a few more curses against the man’s neck.
Fenris’s curses soon turned into grunts and groans—joined with the delicious gasps and cries of the man trapped beneath him.
Later.. Fenris would scold the man later about not letting him keep appointments.
But much later.
Garrett panting, Fenris listening
Fenris slid down the locked door, knees weak, body half turned, one of his keen elven ears on the wood.
Listening to Hawke making sinful noises inside the room, flooding his head with images. Images and sounds he would replay during lonely, cold nights.
Also the shameless fluff of TWO OF MY OTPs COMBINED INTO one 8D
[In a quiet corner of Hightown.]
Fenris: If what you say is true, then the spirit must be here at the bidding of another.
Aveline: Meredith would never allow mage or maleficarum to even approach the vicount’s tomb. The spirit is here of its own accord.
Fenratio: The Veil is not so thin here. I find it doubtful that this thing will appear.
Donnic: We saw it for the past two nights running! Or do you doubt our word?
Fenratio: I have learned to doubt much, over the years. Once, I believed everything that humans told me—and why not? I was but a pathetic wretch, a slave at my master’s heel, less a man and more a pathetic hound, begging piteously for whatever scraps of food and comfort that might sustain me. I existed only through what my masters gave me (in word and pain), and whence I was alone, it was as though I ceased to exist at all. As a free man, I have learned to exist on my own, to see the world that is there before me, and not to accept what others would shape my world with blindly.
Donnic: So you do not trust us.
Fenratio: I never said this. I only say that I do not blindly accept what I cannot know.
Aveline: Hush now! Do you mark that sound? It strikes the midnight hour!
[Emo prince is brooding and soliliquizing all up in this castle.]
[Enter Fenratio and Aveline]
Fenratio: Hail my Lord!
Hawkelet: [Not looking at the other at first.] I am glad to see y— [He turns, belatedly recognizing the voice, excited] Fenris!?
Fenratio: The same my Lord…. And your poor servant ever.
Hawkelet: [Pained expression briefly.] I’ll change that name with you, my good friend. What make you here, so far from Tantervale, Fenris? [Placing a hand on Fenris’ shoulder]
Aveline: My good lord—
Hawkelet: [Not looking away from Fenris, but realizing that they are not alone.] I am very glad to see you, good even sir.[He realizes his mistake at a sound from her.] Oh. My apologies, Aveline. Come now Fenris, why are you here?
Fenratio: [A brief, faint smirk.] A truant disposition, my lord and teacher?
Hawkelet: Ha! A likely tale. I would not believe that were I to hear it from the Divine herself! I know your studies are a labour, but I know you do not shirk them for aught. Come, tell me truthfully, what brings you to Kirkwall? We’ll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.
Fenratio: [More serious.] My lord, I came to see your father’s funeral.
Hawkelet: [Loosing all levity, becoming stony, even a touch angry?] Do not mock my, my good student. I think you came to see my mother’s wedding.
Fenratio:[Quietly agreeing.] Indeed, my lord, it came fast upon the heels of the other.
Hawkelet: Now that my uncle is appointed chief financier, tis all about thrift and an easy way to line his pockets.
[Fenris bows slightly to Hawke]
Fenratio: My duty to your honor.
Hawkelet: [Touching the other’s cheek lightly] Your love, as mine to you.
Fenratio: [Awkwardly wants to flee but is trapped in place for several moments before he agrees.] My love then. [Makes a courtly gesture and all but flees.]
[The ghost motions for Hawke to follow his lead.]
Fenratio: This is a ghost outside the Fade, do not trust it!
[Fenris blocks Hawke’s path with his arm. Hawke moves past him, rashly.]
Hawkelet: I must go to him, my father’s spirit is suffering!
[Fenris comes up behind the other, locking the other by his arms.(Nelson style haha.)]
Fenratio: You do not know that. This could be a demon, playing on your memories. Would you really put yourself in such danger, on the word of a Shade?
Hawkelet: Tis not your place to hold me back!
Fenratio: There is indeed mischief about, my Lord, but we do not know what kind. It could be blood magic, a trick of a Maleficar!
[Hawk struggles against Fenris’ hold]
Hawkelet: Leave off me! I will go to him! Lead on spirit, I will follow!