Chapter Text
The pounding on the door would have woken Varric, if he’d been sleeping. He wasn’t. He was expecting the visitor.
Varric considered ignoring him. He could pull a pillow over his head, try to drown out the noise. Stuff his ears with cotton, sing to himself, try to wait it out. But it would not do any good. It never did.
“Open the door, dwarf!” The bellow penetrated the room, and bounced off the walls. As soon as he heard it, all thoughts of – Well, all thoughts of any substance were impossible. He slid out of bed and across the suite, taking his time.
“Let me in, or I’ll put a hole through your door.” The voice was a mere growl now, low-pitched and rumbly, but still insistent. The man on the other side of the door knew Varric would be closer now, listening.
Varric took a deep breath, and shot the bolt open. He didn’t move out of the way, didn’t pull it open, didn’t welcome the elf.
Fenris easily pushed the door in, knocking Varric back. He kicked the door shut behind him while propelling them both to the table in the middle of the room.
“How many times do I have to tell you,” Varric sputtered against a breastplate, “that this middle-of-the-night bullshit is bullshit?”
“And how many times must I tell you,” Fenris said, before grabbing Varric by the back of the neck, “that I don’t care?” He stuck his tongue between the dwarf’s open lips, and swiped it around sloppily.
“Uhg,” Varric groaned and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. He could taste a bare hint of whiskey on the elf’s tongue. “You kiss like a drunken slut.”
“’s fitting.” Fenris caught Varric’s hand and pinned it to the table, while mashing their mouths together, deliberately wet and messy. He pulled back slightly and looked down with heavy-lidded eyes. “I am drunk. And a slut.”
Sweet mother of partha. “What do you want, Fenris?” he demanded.
“Your cock.” Fenris pressed a leg between Varric’s, and leaned in. “You will be fucking me tonight.”
It was all Varric could do to swallow a moan, to keep his face impassive, to breathe evenly. “Is that so?”
“After you suck me off,” Fenris added, screwing his luscious lips into a devasting little smile when the cock riding his knee jerked.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have a filthy mouth?” Varric's voice was raspier than ever, no surprise considering how tight his throat was right now.
"Are you referring to this mouth?" Fenris smothered him in a kiss that made the dwarf's toes curl. There was nothing sloppy about it.
“Let’s get this over with,” Varric groused, fooling no one. “Where?”
“Bed.”
It was better at the table, or on the table, or a chair or the arm of the chair, or the floor. Because Varric never trusted his knees would hold on the trek into the other room.
He did make it to the bed, and sat, calves against the edge. He leaned back on his hands and listened to the light thuds of Fenris’s armor hitting the floor. When the elf came around the corner, Varric struggled to clear his throat. No matter how many times he saw him naked, Fenris never failed to take his breath away.
“It would be nice if just once you could undress yourself,” Fenris complained. He set a knee along Varric’s thigh, and reached around and down his back, ruffling fabric and kneading muscle.
“You want this, you work for it.” He would not make it too easy.
“Raise your arms, dammit!”
With an inward chuckle, Varric leaned forward and let his arms be lifted as the nightshirt was wrenched over his head. His nose contacted the cock swaying in front of him. Gawd, the elf smelled good. Spicy and musky. He fought the urge to stick out his tongue and bring Fenris into his mouth. This game was for the patient.
***
The first night, Fenris really had been drunk. Rivaini had taught him some drinking game, keeping back a few of the key rules, and he got smashed. Then she abandoned him in favor of a couple of new arrivals into the pub, young lovelies who were more capable of performing. Corff helped Fenris up the stairs, propped him up against the door jam, and knocked.
Varric recognized Corff’s knock – two pause one pause two – and opened the door, reacting barely in time to catch the elf. Not that he kept him from falling. No, they both hit the floor.
“What the—?”
“Varrrrric, m’ man.” Fenris rolled off of the cushioning dwarf. ”Can’t make it home, ‘m ‘fraid. Here OK?”
“Sure, yeah, no problem…” Varric knelt next to him, and reached under his armpits to lift him to his feet. The elf was heavier than he looked, and it took a lot of effort to get him into the bedroom. He wouldn’t take the bed, though.
“Floor good,” Fenris mumbled. Varric thought he had passed out, but when he bent to tuck a blanket around him, Fenris slung a long thin arm around his neck and pulled him down onto his chest. “Varr’c?”
“Yeah? What is it?”
“You gonna take ‘vantage of me?” he slurred into the dwarf’s ear.
“Not tonight, Broody,” Varric chuckled. Stupid drunk ass elf. “Maybe next time.”
“’kay. Nex’ time.” Then Fenris tightened his hold, and dragged Varric’s mouth down onto his for a loose kiss. “Nex’ time…”
Varric managed to unwrap the elf’s arm from around him, and sat back. Gawd, was that his tongue I felt?
Hours later, Varric woke to find himself alone. It didn’t surprise him. At least, the only surprise was that he had managed to fall asleep at all. But for Fenris to slip out while he could, that was completely expected. The dumbass was probably feeling pretty embarrassed right about now, no doubt hoping Varric would be good enough never to mention it.
***
Varric didn’t say anything to anyone. He pretended to forget all about it.
A couple of weeks later, returning from a boring-as-hell Dwarven Merchants Guild meeting, he was passing through the bar on his way upstairs. He gave his customary wave to Corff on his way, but the bartender caught his eye and nodded significantly towards the corner of the bar. Varric made his way over to where a silver-white head was suspended over a row of shot glasses, all but one empty.
“Er, Fenris?”
“Dwarf,” came the mumbled reply.
“Hey, whatcha doin’ there, buddy?” It wasn’t that Fenris was drinking alone, but that he was drinking alone in public. A first time for everything, and hopefully the last.
Fenris didn’t look at him, just took up the shot glass and downed whatever it held. He slammed the glass onto the bar, and snarled, “Whaduzit look like?”
Yeah, fuck you, too. “OK, well… I’m just upstairs if you...” He let his voice trail off when Fenris began to growl.
He shrugged at Corff, then went on up to his suite. Several times he considered going down to make sure his friend was all right, but Fenris had not seemed in the mood for company. Varric didn’t want to insult him by checking up on him. Or get his chest ripped open.
A few hours later, the pounding on the door began. The suite echoed with it. This wasn’t Corff’s signal knock; someone much stronger and ruder was determined to gain entrance. Varric pulled a pillow over his head.
“Lemme in, dammit!” came a distinctive roar.
Varric tried to ignore it, regretting his earlier offer of hospitality. It wasn’t until someone from the next rooms over pounded on the adjoining wall, yelling at him to “shut the fuck up over there” that he rolled off the bed and padded across the suite.
“Go away, Fenris.”
“Open up, dwarf!” Fenris hollered, and pounded on the door some more.
Shit.
He slid the bolt open and swung the door wide, stepping out of the way of a tumbling, thorny mass. Fenris came to rest spread-eagle, face down. “Drunk,” he said to the floorboards.
Varric had his fists on his hips. “I can see that.”
“Staying here tonight," the elf announced.
“Oh, really.”
“Yes, really.” Fenris raised an arm up behind him, and flapped a hand around. “Where’d you go?”
“You're such a dork. I’m right here…” Varric stepped closer, meaning to help his friend up. Instead, he was grabbed by the wrist and pulled down as Fenris rolled onto his back.
“Mmmm,” Fenris nibbled his neck, “takin' advantage of me now, then?”
“Hell, no!” He tried to pull away. Geez, what was the elf thinking?
“Fine.” Fenris rolled them one more time, and looked down at the prone dwarf with eyes that weren’t quite as blurry as Varric expected. “Then I shull, of you.”
Varric’s mouth fell open to question just what he meant by this, and Fenris dropped down into it. There was no doubt about the tongue this time; it was invading his mouth, exploring here, flicking there. The deeper it probed, the harder it was for Varric to stifle the moans building in his chest.
He almost recovered from the shock and the awe of it, and turned his head to the side. He had to resist, had to stop this before his cock drove away all of his resolve. But gawd, what the elf could do with those lips of his!
“Dude! Knock it off!” Varric croaked.
Fenris responded by clamping one hand down over Varric’s mouth while sliding the other down his belly to pull at the drawstring of his pajama bottoms. When those long fingers wrapped around his traitorous cock, Varric whimpered. Loudly. More of a cry, really. He twisted his face free of the muzzling hand. “Fuck, Fenris!”
“No fuck. Just suck.” The elf inhaled his erection.
Then Varric’s only protest was that that beautiful mouth swallowing his cock was getting him off too fast. Before he could even get out a warning, he was spurting.
"Sleep now," Fenris reported, and crawled away into the bedroom. Varric stayed put; nailed to the floor, he felt. He flung an arm over his eyes, and waited for his heartbeats to break apart into something he could count. His thoughts were too scattered, and his joints too jellified to move.
About all his brain could manage was a very inadequate 'Holy crap.'
***