I finally I pre ordered DA:I a couple days ago and I’m positively giddy, but I’m trying to keep my nose out of anyhting that might spoil me, so I can’t draw any DA:I fanart. Yet. So I went through my old DA art folder and found this picture of Hawke and Anders from Legacy… which is now a couple years old (ahhh I’m old[er]).
Anders is waiting for Hawke to come home, laying shamelessly spread out on his back. His three fingers are wiggling knuckle-deep in his ass and he’s trying to keep his voice down so the servants won’t take an interest.
He had been writing on the bed, but now his parchments are neatly piled on the floor, carefully placed there once he had realised he wouldn’t be able to focus on the manifesto tonight. His mind is wandering, going back to that very first time those were Hawke’s three fingers.
How his beard had tickled his neck, how he’d explored Anders inside and out. Grunting and moaning against Anders’ skin as his digits flexed inside, as if it was Hawke himself being pleasured. As if he was already inside, filling him all up.
How hot and damp his breath had been, how maddening his murmured promises into his ear. How Anders had burned with anticipation and surprise as those fingers rubbed his sweet spot, never straying once they’d found it.
“Gonna make you all mine, Anders, gonna ruin you for all other men,” emphasised with a gentle bite to his neck. “Gonna fuck you until you can’t take it anymore, make you come untouched.”
Fuck.
Anders snaps back to the present, panting and far too close to the edge already. He screws his eyes shut, pausing his fingers. He had never guessed that Hawke, the picture of diplomacy and correct behaviour, would be like that in bed. He had no idea what he was in for when he showed up at the estate. If he hadn’t been hooked before, he’d definitely have been after that night.
He clenches his fingers experimentally. Yeah, okay, he can keep going until Garrett comes home. His mind goes back to the memories of the night that changed everything for Anders.
“Then I’m gonna paint your insides with my come, mark you for myself only,” he had growled, his form shaking against Anders, his fingers doing their best at getting him ready. “If that’s alright with you, love.”
Because of course, Hawke would have never gone against his will, would have never risked making Anders uncomfortable in any way. His dominance was submission to whatever desires he perceived Anders to have, not dominance because it was in his nature – not really.
At that moment Anders had realised that Hawke was actually in love with him. Nobody else had ever studied him like he had, hadn’t gone deep in speculation about what Anders might want, consciously and subconsciously. Hawke would give him anything, do anything he asked, and suddenly he’d felt ascended – he would never abuse that, would never disappoint his lover.
“Yes, yes! Please, Garrett, make me yours,” he’d gasped, voice unsteady, but never more sincere in his life. He’d devote himself to this man, try to pay back each considerate thing he’d offer, do his absolute damnedest to deserve him.
Suddenly the door creaks open, startling Anders. His alarm quickly vanishes upon seeing his lover, his legs opening to display the show to him. Hawke is with him within moments, his body pressed against his, fully clothed.
“Look at you, sweetheart.
Maker, what a sight to come home to,” kisses behind his ear, a hand gliding down his naked side. “What do you want, love?”
Anders was pretty sure he couldn’t love more, that every nook and corner of him was already full of Garrett, but once again he finds that he can. With no trepidation, no insecurity, with his heart fluttering, he relates to his partner exactly what he needs.
Queer Fortress 