Attack of the Fenpaca

spicyshimmy:

frikadeller:

And then they had a laugh about the whole incident from the previous post.

Hawke was a connoisseur not of Tevinter wines, but of a similarly rare vintage known as humor. 

In layman’s terms: he made funnies. At least he tried. 

Some enjoyed rich flavors with a fine, earthy terroir. Some enjoyed a gulp that burned on its way down and pricked the corners of their eyes with tears—reminding them that all the bad brews made the best memories, and true laughter brought a man as close to weeping as grief. 

A sovereign had two sides. Two heads, as a matter of fact.

‘You know, I’ve got two heads too, Fenris,’ Hawke had said. 

‘Remarkable, then, how little both think before they act,’ Fenris had replied. 

‘Are your legs tired?’ Hawke asked. ‘Because you’ve been running from slavers through my dreams all night.’ 

‘Is that a magical fisting trick, or are you just glowing to see me?’ Hawke asked.

‘I was going to say ‘Nice boots,’ but you’re not really wearing them, are you?’ Hawke sighed. ‘Elves make things so difficult.’

‘You must be a templar, because you’ve got my heart under lock and key,’ Hawke said. 

‘These ‘lines’ are even worse than Isabela’s,’ Fenris replied at last. ‘She, at least, is to the point.’ 

‘Did you get those pants from a moldy barrel of torn trousers?’ Hawke asked. ‘Because I can see myself in them.’

That one didn’t even make sense. But the lines around Fenris’s mouth cracked nonetheless, thin shadows that twisted as they creased.

‘I would hope,’ Fenris added, his fingers knotting in Hawke’s hair, the twitch and jump and shiver of his belly tickling Hawke’s brow, ‘that you will not continue to…’

Hope was a funny thing. The greatest laugh of them all. 

Fenris, on the other hand, didn’t continue. Hawke saved the rest of his jokes for the flesh; the only lines were the ones he drew with his tongue, from the base of Fenris’s dick to the head. ‘Ah, look,’ he murmured, and his voice in his throat hummed, ‘you have two heads, too, Fenris. And one of them is so happy to see me.’ 

Fenris hadn’t laughed. But his moan was perfect, so that didn’t matter. 

The punchline came when Fenris’s hips were rolling—slow as the waves of the ocean that had carried an aimless little boat to Kirkwall’s shores from Gwaren—and Bodahn appeared in the doorway. ‘For the last time, Sandal, there aren’t any salamanders in he…oh. Oh! Oh. Oh, Messere.’ 

‘Mmf,’ Hawke said. 

‘Ahh…’ Fenris said.

‘Ooohhh,’ Bodahn said. 

When the door snicked shut, Hawke added, ‘Perhaps when you locked up my heart, I should have learned to lock the doors.’

Then, against all odds, with Hawke’s lips and teeth between a curl of fine, heady lyrium and smooth, leather-scented skin, then began to laugh together. 

It was all Hawke had ever really wanted. Aside from the big house and the fancy clothes and the drinks in crystal tumblers whose names he couldn’t pronounce. Fenris drew Hawke up from between his thighs and kissed him, the muddied taste on their tongues. He sounded like himself when he chuckled, unmistakable now, as happy as a moan. 

‘…Are you a healer?’ he asked, hoarse, into the darkness. ‘For I hear…laughter is the best medicine.’

darktenshi17:

frikadeller:

Carver surprise kissing Anders 

The kiss took Anders completely by surprise. The younger man’s lips were rough and demanding, and it was obvious that he was fairly inexperienced in the area of kissing as well. Even with all that the kiss wasn’t all that bad and perhaps he would have reciprocated if he hadn’t been so surprised. When he finally did get his senses about him Carver was already pulling away.

“Hm.” Was all the younger Hawke said, staring intently at Anders.

“W-what?” Anders asked, wondering if perhaps he had something on his face, or Carver was horribly drunk and that’s why he’d just suddenly kissed him.

Carver was quiet for a moment longer before nodding to himself. “I definitely like girls, beards are itchy and your lips aren’t soft enough. Also you have bad breath.” With that declaration he turned on his heal and walked out of the clinic leaving Anders standing there with his patients staring at him, some snickering behind their hands.

“W-wha-?” Anders brain took a moment to catch up with what had just been said. “M-my breath doesn’t stink!” He shouted after Carver feeling lame for having said it. Turning back to his work he couldn’t help but mutter to himself, ignoring the people in the clinic. “Stupid confusing Hawkes.”