Chapter Text
“Fenris?”
Hawke carefully and very deliberately does not move as he watches Fenris stalk a slow circle around Anders. Danarius had barked a command at Fenris before the fight had begun but it doesn’t seem to have worked in his favour, his throat torn open by Fenris’ own hand. In the fight there wasn’t much chance to observe, yet the carnage the elf had wrought was noticeable.
Fenris growls and Hawke freezes mid-step. Anders shakes his head at Hawke frantically as he stays very still while Fenris steps behind him.
Art by the amazing Dashingapostate
“F-Fenris? Danarius is… he’s dead. You can, you know, snap out of it?” His voice tapers off breathily as Fenris rumbles with a softer growl, one of reprimand and less warning. Anders swallows and his mouth closes, eyes wide in alarm as Fenris leans in to scent his neck.
“Oh, Maker…” He chokes and his gaze meets Hawke’s, both of them gaping in shock, as Isabela wisely stays near the stairs. “Hawke… how literal was the ‘little wolf’ thing?” Anders asks softly, shivering when Fenris growls at him in reprimand again, tangling his hair in his gauntleted fist and baring Anders’ neck as the mage squawks in protest. “Hawke, what the fuck did Danarius say to him?!”
“I, uh… I don’t remember? I don’t speak Tevene…” Hawke’s eyes grow even wider as Fenris seems to reach a conclusion and lifts Anders over his shoulder like he weighs nothing, the mage yelping and wriggling until Fenris strikes his rear and growls.
“Did Fenris just…” Hawke shakes his head, because Fenris definitely did and then the elf strides from the tavern with the dumbstruck mage over his shoulder. He can only stare after them in horror and pray that they can reverse this, though Anders didn’t seem to be protesting all that much, his stunned expression pleading with Hawke before it had vanished behind the door.
-
“Put me down, you thick-headed-” He yelps at the strike across his rear, face flushing red. The fear of the blood stained growly elf stalking around him like his next target had worn off significantly at being thrown over his shoulder and carted off like… like… Anders’ face darkened further. This was not happening.
“Fenris, if you’re carting me off to kill me, please don’t.” That was the only conclusion, definitely not anything his addled mind was otherwise contemplating.
Fenris growls under him, the sound reverberating where Anders’ thighs are clamped to the elf’s pointy armour, the spikes on one shoulder jabbing Anders with each step. It sounds angered and offended, like Anders had any other reason to think what was happening would end in anything other than his grisly demise.
They pass from Lowtown into Hightown, the late hour granting no audience to Anders’ embarrassing entrapment as he tries to protest again.
“Fenris… I’m not sure what Danarius has done to you… but I assure you that this isn’t you, okay?”
Anders pauses but Fenris shows no sign of even listening as Anders pushes at the elf’s back, craning to look over his shoulder and reason with him.
“Listen to me! You blighted elf, this isn’t you!”
Fenris is going to snap out of this any second and hurl him to the floor in disgust. There’s still every chance he’s being taken somewhere to be murdered slowly. The tentative fear is shatters when Fenris’ free hand cups his rear warmly.
“Fenris!” He hisses and shoves at his back again. “Snap out of it!”
They’re near Fenris’ mansion, Anders realises with growing anticipation and shock. Each step is purposeful and takes them closer. Anders’ mind is feverishly picturing possible scenarios in torrid detail.
The hand on his rear is palming him now, kneading his flesh and Fenris’ voice is rumbling in approval. Anders squeezes his eyes shut and tells himself this is wrong, because Fenris isn’t in his right mind and this is against his will. There is no way Fenris would be doing this if he had his full faculties.
“Please… Fenris… stop.”
Fenris stills suddenly and Anders’ eyes snap open in surprise. They are right outside Fenris’ door and the elf halts without thought, carefully lowering Anders to his feet but drawing Anders’ face to look at him.
Anders blinks at him in surprise as the elf looks at him curiously, eyes still blown wide but creased in confusion as he scents Anders gently. He hadn’t expected Fenris to hear him, certainly not through the flood of canine instincts Danarius had triggered in him, and yet his pleading had gotten through.
Maybe Fenris didn’t understand the words so much as the tone, understanding Anders was distressed and seeking to settle him? Anders was clutching at straws now, but straws were all he had.
“Fenris, please, you have to think- you’re more than this and you wouldn’t be doing this if you-!” Anders chokes as Fenris’ tongue flicks out to swipe at his mouth, a soft lick that he’s seen Mabari give their owners when they are sad, an expression of fondness and comfort and Maker this is not happening. He opens his mouth again and Fenris licks again, this time into his mouth- not a kiss, not quite. Far too feral for that. Anders turns his head and pushes Fenris back, “Stop that. Come on, I know some Tevene, um prohibere? Claudorum?” The licks get more persistent, this time at his neck and Anders can’t help how he gasps when there is a drag of teeth and he isn’t resisting nearly as much as he should. “C-conculco…?”
Fenris stills, whining into his neck like Anders has done the worst thing in the world. His hands fall limp to his sides and he steps back, kneeling on the Hightown cobbles as Anders gapes in horror.
“Maker, no! Forget that! I didn’t mean it, stop, please!” He grabs Fenris’ shoulders and pulls at him until the elf stands with a confused frown. He grows bolder at being relieved of the command, stepping into Anders’ space again and this time he is nipping a lot firmer at Anders’ neck. “Oh, fuck… why on Thedas did you pick me?!”
Fenris’ chest rumbles and his arms envelop Anders, crushing the mage to his chest as he bites and Anders cries out, startling a few late night nobles as they hurry away from the display outside the infamous haunted mansion. If that is his answer, it seems clear enough that whatever the reason Fenris has no plans to change it. Anders does not even notice he’s being carried back into the mansion until the door is closed and his back pushed against it. Fenris has a very distracting mouth and when Anders weakly turns into it to kiss back, Fenris rumbles and groans into him like Anders has made the right choice.
Anders isn’t sure he has, not when he knows Fenris is going to eviscerate him when he snaps out of this,“Fen-aahhhh!” Anders trails off into a whine as a hot swipe of tongue down his neck followed by a drag of teeth has him arching into Fenris’ hold. Maker damn the elf and his mouth because Anders’ not pushing at Fenris how he should be, instead curling his fingers into Fenris back and urging him closer.
“Fen- oh… you… sto-aahhh!” Fenris bites down and Anders keens hard.
His back thuds back against the door in submission, rattling the wood in the frame, as Fenris palms his cock without preamble. The nip of his clawed gauntlets against his thighs is the wrong side of dangerous but his bare palm is hot and rubs him without gentleness or even a pretense of shyness. He’s watching Anders with that gratingly familiar smirk curling his mouth, so damn smug and it makes Anders moan.
But… it isn’t right.
There is none of the condescending derision that normally goes with it, the piercing intellect and shrewd wit, the disdained haughtiness that makes Anders grind his teeth. He is all dangerous predator and none of the elf that makes Anders want to shake him until he sees stars.
This isn’t Fenris.
His cock stirs defiantly in his trousers, oblivious to his discomfort as Anders shakes his head. Fenris would never want this with him, would never touch him but to lash out if he pushed too far, would never… Fenris rumbles a contented purr and Anders rocks into his hold.
He grips Fenris’ forearms and watches a green hue skitter over his skin as the ground flares, paralysis taking hold so Anders can escape from his grasp further into the foyer. The frozen elf is blocking the only exit from here and Anders knows Fenris well enough to know the glyph gives him only a handful of seconds.
When Anders had first met Fenris he had theorised, privately, that the lyrium made Fenris a magical power source but would ultimately mean he was sensitive to magic. At best, it itched him. He liked it about as much as he liked any form of contact and Anders reassessed.
It made sense. Fenris was forged in Tevinter and what use would Danarius have for a bodyguard that could be swayed by magic? Instead it seemed that whenever they faced enemies who wielded magic it did nothing but annoy Fenris. He was so magic resistant it was alarming and Anders has barely thrown up a static cage before Fenris is tearing himself free from the glyph’s hold.
“Fenris! Listen to me, just listen! Can you even understand me?!” Anders steps back even though there is nowhere he can go to with his exit blocked. Fenris snarls, practically shivering with anger as he bares his teeth at Anders through the crackling lightning bars, pacing like… like a caged wolf.
“Your master is dead, you killed him! But he did something to you… Maker, Fenris, come on, you have to help me out here!” Anders isn’t sure shouting at Fenris is going to aid in solving the issue because it seems that the elf might be beyond reason at the moment. Where are Hawke and Isabela? Anders prays they’ve found something of use in Danarius’ things.
Fenris, for his part, draws up to full height with his face tilted down and shoulders squared. He is flicking his gaze from Anders to the magic caging him in and looks to be assessing each pulse of magic. Anders knows he is a powerful mage but he’s never exactly gone toe-to-toe with Fenris beyond verbal fighting. He isn’t sure he likes his odds. Not when Fenris starts glowing.
And he’s still hard.
Justice…
I have no wisdom here.
It figures that the fade spirit is as focused as a child on a sugar high with all that lyrium singing away over there.
“Fenris, please.” Anders tries distracting him now. “You have to understand this isn’t you, I am trying to do what is best here, you don’t even like me, you-” Anders flinches and steps back as Fenris’ fist collides with the cage.
Lightning spits and bites into his hand, the gauntlet metal scorching black and Fenris barks in pain and rage but is unrelenting. His arm shudders with the force he is using to try and tear his way through the barrier but he doesn’t look to be dissuaded by a little lightning.
Anders is going to die.
He turned down a fuck from an undeniably gorgeous elf - who hates him and is in no way able to make such decisions - and now he is going to die.
“Stop that! You’re hurting yourself!” Anders hurries forward, flinching again as sparks fly from Fenris hand through the cage wall. Without thinking Anders drops the cage, hands clasping Fenris hand and burning his hand on contact. “Ow!” He jerks back his hands, healing magic flooding through as he tips Fenris’ palm up carefully.
Fenris, in contrast from his previous raging, freezes in response. He seems transfixed by the gentler magic Anders is soothing over him and watching his burns heal before studying Anders’ face intently.
“There.” Anders takes a slow breath. “Maker, you know how to make things dramatic.” Fenris takes his hand back only to grip Anders wrists and tip them up instead, pointing a meaningful finger at the burns on the healer’s hands as if to remind him.
“Oh, um… right.” Anders’ magic thrums again, the pain and injuries disappearing to a dull ache. He looks up at Fenris curiously, not sure where to go when the elf has been determinedly amorous, then destructive and now calm.
Fenris presses his forehead to Anders, the height difference almost funny but for how Fenris hauls him down to meet him. Anders swallows in wide-eyed alarm and then the nuzzling starts. And the accursed tongue is back. Anders squirms back, face turning red at the attention and ready to scold Fenris for his actions when the door opens suddenly.
Right into Fenris.
There’s a shuddering thud that has Anders wincing in empathy and then Fenris is slumping over unconscious. Anders tries to catch him but the elf and all his armour makes for a heavy weight that takes Anders with it instead, pillowing Fenris’ fall with his own body.
Hawke’s head peers in through the cracked door. “Uh… whoops?”
Anders groans pitifully. “I’m petitioning Varric to make that the title of your book.”
Fenris makes no response but he’s still breathing because Anders can feel every shift of his breastplate against his wilting erection.
“Hawke. Get him off me.”
Blessedly, Hawke obeys and they manage to wrangle Fenris into his bed with little incident - aside from a pointed look to the bite mark on Anders’ neck.
Anders is almost terrified to wait for Fenris to wake but he’s a healer and Hawke did hit him hard, so medical professionalism wins out. Hawke confesses they found nothing in Danarius’ things so they will have to work out what they can if Fenris wakes up just as singularly wolfish as he was before. Hawke leaves, mumbling ideas about visiting Xenon, and leaves Anders to fuss about the room as much as he dares- very pointedly not thinking about how Fenris had felt against him, how each lick and bite and touch had been so… not thinking about it .
When Fenris wakes it is… normal. Anticlimactically, somehow, though Anders refuses to wonder why.
He hates you and your cause.
I know.
Fenris groans and complains and is generally his usual acidic self. He has nothing but disgust for Anders, barking at him to leave and snapping when Anders even hints at examining him.
Anders should feel relieved but it is bitter on his tongue, twisted into a joke about ‘cognitive recalibration’ and that Fenris should make sure he thanks Hawke for making sure he didn’t make a huge mistake before Anders leaves, one hand pressed to the bite on his neck and stomach heavy with a hurt he shouldn’t feel. Everything’s back to normal then.
Focus, Anders.
Fuck off, Justice.