undwarfy | Open post

Fenris' white hair was never in perfect order. always a little ragged, always slightly out of line. Here, his hair was mussed, ruffled from how he'd moved against the bed. Varric's hand actually put some order to it, and brought his attention ever so slightly away from the hand moving on him. He thought he'd heard something tear, but that didn't matter in the long term. What mattered was looking at Varric, knowing what he intended to say, but purring his words instead. Again in Tevene, arousal stealing the trade tongue from him. The words might have escaped being understood, but their meaning couldn't be.

There was a light deep in his eyes, unmistakable desire as his gaze raked over Varric. He stroked his own hand over his chest, pinching one nipple before pushing it further. The lower his hand went, the more he tipped back his head until his fingers were splayed over his inner thigh, far from interrupting Varric's touch.

Maybe now, Isabela's satisfaction was more easily understood. There was a sense of abandon about Fenris when he was so aroused and pleasured, a pure relinquishing of all of his sense of propriety in favour of sex and all it could bring. And never did he seem to have anyone else in mind. It was only Varric in his mind and thoughts as his hand moved and he spoke lascivious Tevene. It was only when he could pause Varric's hand with his own wrapped around the wrist that he could speak intelligibly again, promising in his low, now breathless voice, "I want to use my mouth on you."

Varric wasn't an inexperienced man by any means. Give him a gorgeous woman of any stripe and he knew his way around with his eyes closed and hands tied. But this- another man - for all that some things were the same, enough was different that he felt like a tongue-tied virgin for the first time in many, many years. Certain things were obvious enough (they had all the same parts, and Varric definitely knew how they worked), but enough was different that when Fenris turned his gaze on him, Varric felt drawn in almost helplessly, powerless to do anything but watch a slender hand rove, green eyes bore into his own, to listen to that low, growling, ludicrously sensual voice wrap around Tevene like a filthy thing.

When their hands touched he drew in a sharp breath, and Fenris's words pulled a small noise from him as he caught up with the undeniable reality of the situation.

Yes, it was a dose of reality. Yes, it was almost shocking to have Fenris suddenly take an active role in this, rather than being a passive object of Varric's curiosity. Did that change how badly he wanted it, or how the words made his cock ache?

Hell no.

"Maker's breath," he swore, trying to move his hand again. (Hey, making him speechless was fun.) "Sure, okay."

That sounded stupid and he knew it, so moving his hand seemed like the best way to smooth over the moment.

His laugh - low and heated - faded in favour of moaning when Varric's hand started to move. For weeks now, he'd been touching himself, imagining this. Exactly this, except for how his fingers caught at Varric's belt, how he held on, tugged - not sure if he wanted to split Varric's attention or simply relish what he had.

He made at least one small choice, letting go of the leather strap in favour of tugging on fabric, getting it out of the way so his fingers could dip beneath Varric's waistband to touch skin. "Amasio," his voice rumbled, hand quickly finding its way to Varric's back, nails touching, not quite scraping, just as he'd promised. A graze of nails on sensitive skin.

Someday, if he was able. Someday he would teach Varric every trick he'd learned through the years and show him just how good this could be - when he could think past the immediate. Already the lack of pain and the complete pleasure of Varric's hand on him were pushing him closer and closer to a climax he'd hoped for for so long.

Varric found himself being pulled on, tugged, at, until his kneeling position gave way to lying down next to Fenris, braced on one elbow, the other hand still stroking.

It was- a surprise to be this close. Surprising and almost intimidating. There was something more intimate about being so near his face than having a hand on his cock. Something more intimate about a kiss than a touch.

"Mm," he hummed, nails on his back drawing out a pleased sigh. This felt good, and Varric could see Fenris getting close, but some selfish part of him didn't want this to be over yet. He slowed his movements, slower, until it was a teasingly slow thing with his palm smoothing over the head at the end of each stroke. He didn't want Fenris to come yet, but he did want to make him moan. It felt more exciting like this, when he was only inches away from the elf's lips.

"Mhn, torm-- Driving me mad," he sighed, having to force himself to speak in a language Varric knew, and though they were near enough, Fenris didn't try to kiss him. Not yet. What he did was press his forehead against Varric's and let their breath mingle, his own scented with elfroot and wine. When he licked his lips, his tongue nearly wet Varric's as well, but the miss was still a miss.

This close, though. This close, he could get his hand at Varric's belt and started undoing it with quick, efficient motions that soon had it laying open. All the simpler for both hands to find the skin beneath. If Varric was going to tease, he could do the same.

So close that Varric almost chased his lisp when Fenris moved that tiny bit away. The closeness made his blood roar and chased heat over his skin, brought tense desire to the surface so that he moaned when nimble fingers brushed his skin.

That free hand carded through Fenris's hair, their noses touching, lips almost brushing.

Finally, he couldn't take it, and closed the distance between them with a low groan.

Fenris' contented moan said it all, his lips easily and eagerly parting under Varric's, tongue touching his lips. This, in particular, was a line he'd wanted Varric to cross. Kissing was intimate, and in a way Fenris didn't take lightly. His body went still while his mouth moved, fingertips pressing against Varric's skin just to keep a tactile anchor to a world he was swiftly finding inferior so long as he had Varric touching him this way.

This was more than just pleasure the moment lips touched lips. Whether it meant the same to Varric, he wasn't sure, but a kiss, for him, always meant more.

There was a reason he'd been hesitant to move in closer and unsure about initiating this kiss: kisses were more intimate, and while Varric had had his share of fun in life, he tended to save certain things for people he had some kind of connection with.

Fenris was one of his best friends, and it was a damn sight more than "some kind of connection." Some of that poured through the kiss, in how his lips parted, how slow and languid the kiss was, how gently he stroked their tongues together, how deeply and slowly he explored, moaning softly into the kiss. How his hips rocked against Fenris's hand, seeking more, but keeping with the gentle rhythm of their lips.

Just as slowly and gently as lips moved against lips, he started to move his hands. Varric's tunic had many little fasteners to get out of the way, and he worked them free one at a time. There was skin he still wanted to touch, a bared chest he wanted to explore. How much of Varric's clothing could he take off before there was protest? He was more than willing to find out.

Soon enough, those deft fingers were at the laces of Varric's pants. Not exactly a thorough job at undressing him. There was a perhaps understandable reluctance to part Varric's hand from its stroking.

Varric kissed him throughout the undressing, and only moved to briefly shrug his arms, one at a time, out of the tunic. He moved as efficiently as possible and resumed stroking immediately, giving his cock a gentle twist with his palm rubbing over the head as apology for moving.

There was no protest from him as nimble fingers worked at the laces, nor when his pants started to open. If need be he would help kick them off, but for now he was content to let Fenris take the lead.

That extra bit of attention made Fenris' hands stop and his breath catch, hips moving to follow the caresses. So distracting in such a perfect way. He moaned into Varric's mouth, unable to hate how easily he was manipulated. It felt too good for him to complain, even a little.

But once he could, one hand did slip down, beneath Varric's trousers, and... presumed.

Presumed to follow the curve of Varric's rear and give it a slow squeeze, nails skimming skin when he let go. Oh, he liked doing that. It was going to be hard to keep his hands off now that he knew how good Varric's ass felt in his hands.

Varric made a low, rough noise and kissed Fenris harder, his hand squeezing just a little bit tighter. Oh, he liked making Fenris moan like that, the way he had under that extra bit of touching. He was having a hard time of his own with keeping his hands off- and now, with concentrating while Fenris's own hands wandered.

So he deepened the kiss even more, and nipped at the elf's lip less than gently.

"Mmmh--" Apparently that was welcome. Fenris chased that bite with lips and tongue, insistent with every brush of lip, every dab of a lick -- and all the while, he pushed down at Varric's waistband, fighting to get those pants out of the way. This had been the subject of too many fantasies. He had decided time and again how it would happen, but the reality was always, perpetually, different. The reality was hope and eagerness and need as his hands sought skin, kneading Varric's thigh as the dwarf teased him with those kisses and the knowing touch of his hand.

It was when he pulled Varric's lower lip into his mouth, nipping and sucking, that he fit his hand to the hardness between Varric's leg, giving a slow squeeze. Maker's balls but soon, if he had his way, he'd have his mouth on that, and he looked forward to that moment.

"Ah-" At long last, a real moan tore from his lips, desperate and hungry.

It felt like years he'd been on this bed, teasing Fenris, touching Fenris, watching Fenris, doing everything to Fenris, while his own needs, his own reaction went entirely ignored. To finally, finally have a hand where he wanted it most was enough to make Varric moan deeply into the kiss, giving a low almost-growl at that slow squeeze.

One hand tightened in Fenris's hair, pulling his head back to expose that long neck. With a groan Varric dove in, biting hungry, open-mouthed kisses along his neck, not content until he left a mark and Fenris made a noise.

Finally.

When Varric's mouth found his throat, that hand in his hair, he moaned aloud and had to hold on to him, shivering with the pleasure of it. His skin, between the marks, was smooth and unmarred thanks to quick healing and potions, but Varric had seen him bruise before - and that was something his mouth could easily do.

And it was encouragement for Fenris to be even more blunt with his attentions. He pushed his hand beneath Varric's smalls, skin finding skin and, with a shift of his wrist, stroking it, pulling his cock free of his skivvies for Fenris' touch. The hot, hard length more than lived up to Fenris' fantasies, making him decide that someday, he fully intended to be pinned to the bed with this cock inside him.

Varric moaned and thrust his hips against Fenris's hand, growling against the elf's long neck. The attention made him gasp and made his blood run hot, igniting a desire to see Fenris fall apart as completely as he wanted to.

So, he kissed and bit his way up Fenris's throat until he found the elf's ear- then caught it in his teeth and tugged lightly.

He had gotten moans and groans and whimpers and begs. When he bit at Fenris' ear, Varric finally got a cry, the elf's control, all that will he spent to keep quiet, falling apart in the face of that sensation. Not even Isabela had paid much attention to his ears, but Varric's bite had him thrusting against his hand and whining in Tevene. "F-fasta-- Close, fucking-- please," he bit out at last, panting between words, the words disjointed as his distracted brain flailed at Trade grammar.

That reaction surprised the hell out of him. He'd expected something - I mean, ears like that, you expect elves to have a Thing about them - but that noise made him gasp and shudder into Fenris's hand.

Then he had to go and beg, and Varric smirked wickedly, slowing his movements even more. He dragged his tongue along the long, pointed rim of the elf's ear and nibbled at the tip gently, still keeping his hand moving at a glacial pace.

He whimpered. He even whined a soft, "Varric, amasio-- cruel--" as his hips strained for more, trying to take what Varric was so stubbornly slowly giving. It made his hand lose its rhythm on Varric's length, the smooth stroking becoming a series of fits and starts as he strained for what he'd lost.

Varric was learning to play him like a harp, finding every place on his body that elicited a reaction and using it against him. He should be angry, he thought, or at least impatient, but there was something sweet about this particular kind of frustration.

The loss of rhythm was disappointing but a victory: it meant Fenris was starting to lose it, sliding into desperation, into real need. Varric worked him over like that for a few minutes longer, with painfully slow strokes that ended in his palm sliding over the head, and gentle nips at the elf's delicate ear.

Finally, when Fenris was well and truly desperate, he nipped at Fenris's ear hard, tightened his grip, and sped up his strokes, pumping his cock relentlessly.

"That's right," he growled, dragging Fenris's earlobe in his teeth and stroking him hard. "Come on, gorgeous."

His heart did a funny thing when Varric called him gorgeous, but thinking about that was pushed aside in favour of following exactly the sort of order that he liked. His mouth sought Varric's and, almost as soon as lips touched lips, his climax hit, leaving him panting. The attempt at a kiss was aborted as he thrust, fucking Varric's hand as strand after strand of white spattered hand and skin and bedcovers.

Fenris was left shivering, smiling dreamily against Varric's mouth, and starting to sag onto the mattress like a ragdoll. It was the strongest climax he'd had in... ever, he was sure, and whatever deity was listening preserve him, but he hoped it was the first of many.

Varric kissed his forehead and was content to cradle him there, but... he looked down at his hand. And the bedcovers. And...

"Dang, Broody, you know how to make a mess," he said mildly. Varric was forced to extricate his other hand from underneath Fenris to grab the nearest thing- which, regrettably, turned out to be his tunic. Whatever, he had others, and he was paying through the nose for laundry service here.

Once they were cleaned up, he returned to wrapping himself around Fenris protectively. He felt obligated to get as much of his skin on Fenris's skin as possible, just in case of... something. Knowing that his touch could soothe the pain made the already wonderful skin-to-skin contact even more precious.

His arms wound around Varric and he gave a contented sigh. He still owed Varric - fully intended to do what he'd promised, too - but it would have to wait until he was a little more physically able. "You teased me forever," he groaned, voice gone low and warm and happy, "and you're surprised at the amount after? I'm going to enjoy teaching you about this."

Because with that kiss, surely it wouldn't stop here. That kiss, the way he was being held - there would be more chances, and he wanted every single one. He even took the opportunity to kiss him again, soft and almost chaste with one hand sliding up to toy with the ends of his hair. "But," Fenris purred, lips against Varric's, "you do seem to be a fast learner."

"O-Oh, really~?" Varric simpered, doing an admirably bad impression of a blushing young maiden. "I- I don't know, serah, they didn't teach us about this in Chantry school~!"

He snorted and nuzzled his whiskery face into Fenris's neck, making sure to rub his stubble all up on the elf before pulling away. "I'm not that fuckin' new, I know how sex works."

The scrub of whiskers on skin made him squirm and laugh, halfheartedly trying to get away when he didn't really want away at all.

His stomach gave a little flip. That was... new. Very new. A little frightening. It was one thing to want sex with the same partner again and again. Good sex was something to come back for. But now, with the rush of arousal slowly easing, he was surprised at himself. Pleased and surprised. The attachment - the feeling behind the kiss. It lingered. And it made him nestle in close.

"Not sex with men, I'd imagine. And that, I can teach you about." But after a pause and a nuzzle of his own, he added, "When you want."

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