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Fenris finds no shame in how it is easy for him to get on his knees in front of Anders and suck him off after a long day tagging along with Hawke. He knows service best, and he's better at it than dominance. Anders makes for a good partner in this dance, after enough back-and-forth and arguments about it until they found a happy middle between slavery and independence. Anders is not his master, and never will be; he is a free man, and he submits to him like a free man does, taking his cock in his mouth and having his own fill out at the sensation. Sometimes he calls him his owner, in his head, but it is more like he is an unruly mabari he picked up off the streets of Kirkwall than like he is his property.
The only reason why they don't start this ritual right after entering Fenris' home is because Fenris prefers to be naked for it. He throws his gauntlets down to the floor, takes off his armor, peels off his tunic and leggings until he is bare, his nipples getting hard with the chilly air. Anders has nowhere near as many problems with his clothes, pulling his smalls down and his robes up to reveal his cock, already half-hard.
Fenris settles down on his knees and leans forward to take him into his mouth, moaning softly around his length. Anders lets out a breathless laugh at the sight, his hand clenching around his hair, tugging, helping him move just how he likes him to, at the right speed, the right angle. He's messy, drooling around his length with purpose, gagging on it when it hits the back of his throat.
"You're so desperate," Anders breathes out. "You really like this, don't you? Choking on mage cock?"
Fenris shudders at that, his ears twitching. He does not feel any shame about his proclivities, no, but when Anders calls them out like this, the twinge of humiliation makes heat travel from his face down to his cock. He keeps bobbing his head, his tongue licking upwards against a vein before getting to the cockhead, pushing down against the foreskin to taste him, his sweat, his musk. He's maintained before that he tastes much better than he smells. Anders moans softly, hips bucking against his face, and the gagging noise that leaves Fenris is obscene.
"Maker, your mouth, Fenris," Anders hisses out, hips pushing against him languidly, not trying to rush or fuck his face, just helping his movements along. "You're so good. Made for it, really. And you love it." His boot pushes against his knee and Fenris spreads his legs at that, arching his back a little to take him deeper. Anders moans and lifts his boot to press against Fenris' cock, which is hard and drooling pre-cum. "You - ah - you love it, little whore, don't you?"
Fenris' hips buck against his boot before he can think better of it, a moan vibrating around Anders' cock at the pressure and relief of leather against his shaft. Anders grunts and his hand grips at Fenris' hair harder. He yanks his head back so he has to meet his eye when he opens his own.
Anders' face is twisted with pleasure, pale skin flushed from arousal. Brown eyes dilated with lust, jaw clenched. He looks perfect like this—Fenris wants to bring him into this ecstasy forever. "M-Maker, ah, you want to hump my boot, mutt?"
Fenris nods as much as he can, squirming against him. Anders puts his boot down and pushes his leg between Fenris' thighs, his dark eyes blown wide with interest as he settles against him and starts rutting against it.
He used to do this, once upon a time. It was one of the few moments he was not in pain when Danarius played with him and his body—there was the simple relief of satin against his length and he was rewarded with it, with an orgasm that came from rutting against a soft boot.
Anders' boot is not anything like Danarius'. He leans forward as he sucks him off, pressing his body weight against him. There's bits of metal and the leather is hard, rough against his cock, and it's perfect. He bobs his head as Anders lets out curses above him, his hips bucking against him.
"Ohh, Maker, your mouth feels so good, mutt, Fenris, I'm going to, going to come down your throat, ah…"
Fenris' tongue swirls around his cockhead as he ruts against him, wanting it, needing it. It only takes a couple more minutes before Anders' cum coats the back of his throat and he swallows all of it, not given much of a choice. He pulls off his cock and leans his head against his leg, hips fucking into the hard metal over the boot.
"You're still, ah, you're still going, pup?" Anders breathes out, looking down at him.
"Mmhm," Fenris manages.
He thrusts downwards, his length scraping against metal, and he lets out a soft whimper of pain. His brows furrow as he keeps at it even as discomfort blooms low over his body. It hurts, but it doesn't matter—it keeps him in this moment and not in Minrathous. This metal, this leather, it could never be Danarius'.
"Would you rather I take off the boot, mutt?" Anders offers.
Fenris growls at the mere idea, tilting his head a little to bite at his thigh over his robes.
Anders gasps out, trying to pull away before relaxing. "Alright, message received," he hisses, a hand going down to tug at Fenris' hair. His eyes flutter shut at that and he grunts around the flesh in his mouth. He keeps himself against him by his teeth, his hands settling behind his back as he ruts against him.
There's something freeing about this movement, about gripping Anders through his leg, about feeling metal rub against his flesh. He is a feral animal submitting, nothing more, and yet, it is so much more than just that. He is not completely subdued, as he is allowed to bite his master, to take the reigns in some aspect. His jaw clenches around him and Anders groans out as he fucks against his boot.
It's only a few more thrusts before he's coming all over it. His teeth grip harder around Anders' thigh, only for him to deem it enough and yank him away. He moans out as he orgasms, bucking against him as he spills all over metal and leather, panting hard, drool dribbling down his cheek.
"Fuck, you look so good like that, mutt," Anders breathes out.
When Fenris opens his eyes, Anders is hard again and threading a hand into his hair, pulling him forward and to his cock. He stumbles away from his boot and settles between his legs again, starting to suck him off. He moans softly at the sensation of his mouth being filled with cock while in this post-orgasmic bliss, shuddering as he takes him down to the root.
Drool dribbles down his chin and onto Anders' balls as he keeps his hands behind his back, bondage with no restraints. His own length softens between his legs, but he knows he'll be aroused soon by the act of fellating Anders. He lavishes his cock in worship, his tongue working up and down the shaft to then press against the head, sliding around the foreskin teasingly before licking over the slit, tasting sweat and pre-cum.
Anders' hand on his hair tightens as his hips buck. "Fuck, Fenris, you're so good, such a good dog," he moans.
Fenris only gags when Anders' thrusts get more insistent, pressing against the back of his throat. More shameful than coming from humping his boot is the arousal that blooms low in his stomach at getting called a good dog, at how much his praise gets him off. He just loves it, loves being good, loves pleasing him. He slurps around his cock obscenely and pulls away to take a breath, strands of saliva connecting him to his cock.
"Ah…" he breathes out. "Ser…"
"Yes?" Anders smiles and looks down at him. His cock is starting to fill up again, and Anders laughs. Humiliation crawls up his spine and makes him go red all the way to the tips of his ears. "You like sucking my cock that much? Maker, I forget how pathetic you get like this."
Fenris whines out and his cock throbs in response to the noise and his own desperation. He leans forward and then down to lick and suck at his balls, something he always does when he feels so very degraded. It's a vicious cycle he craves: being humiliated and then doing something humiliating, so the feeling only grows.
After a few moments of swirling his tongue around Anders' sack, he straightens to take his cock back into his mouth, sliding up and down in fluid movements. He gags around it on purpose, drool gathering around his lips, a spit bubble forming along the edge of his mouth. Anders yanks his head back and keeps him in place just so he can fuck his face with short, eager strokes, grunting out as he moves.
"Fuck!" Anders groans as he fucks his face, eager, desperate. "So good, such a good throat for me," Anders praises airily. "Such a good little hole to fuck. And you love it! You fucking love it, don't you, mmhn, ah, Fenris…"
Fenris whimpers around his length and lets his mouth get fucked, his cock only getting harder at the sensation. His hips buck into the air and he closes his eyes, tears sliding down his cheeks with how he reams into his throat. It's so good, to just submit, to let himself be used and then use in return. After a few moments of this, when his length starts properly throbbing and dribbling pre-cum from the use, Anders helps him along to mount his boot again.
The sensation is strange, now that there's cum all over the boot. It's slick and sticky, yet still sharp from the bits of metal, uncomfortable from the straps. Fenris wouldn't change it for anything, this discomfort that rises from his length all the way to his chest as he fucks onto the shoe.
"Maker," Anders moans softly as he fucks his throat. "You're just going to keep making a mess of my boot, huh, mutt? Going to have to - gah - make you clean up," he grunts.
Just the thought makes Fenris dizzy. His thrusts against the boot grow bolder, harder, pressing his body weight against it as he cranes his neck upward to take Anders' cock deep down his throat. Anders curses softly under his breath as he comes again, his spurts of cum now thinner as he pulls away to only have the head inside. Fenris tastes his spend and swallows every last drop, panting hard as Anders pops his cock out of him.
Immediately, Fenris leans back down and grabs at his thigh with his teeth as his hips work against his drying cum and the hard metal. His face twists with discomfort and focus alike, chasing his orgasm, wanting nothing more than to come again and again, all over the boot, to taste it afterwards, when Anders is sick of it, when Anders snarls at him to get on his knees and clean it up like a good mutt—
"Venhedis," he cries out as he orgasms again, the climax almost taking him by surprise as he spills all over the boot, going limp with his mouth full of Anders' robe, tasting cloth as he spills all over the boot.
Anders groans, laughs. "That was faster. You should clean up your mess, mutt. I'm not going to the clinic with my boot covered in your runt cum."
Fenris growls before bowing his head. He lets out a breathless whimper and pulls away, settles down on his hands and knees. He lowers his head enough to have his ass stick out. His face burns. He is a small, feral thing, being handled into becoming a proper pet.
"That's it," Anders praises. "Such a good boy for me, making such a mess, just from sucking me off. Come on. Lick my boot clean."
He doesn't need to be told again. He leans forward and starts licking at his boot, tasting metal and leather. There's bits and bobs he'd never have experienced in Tevinter and it helps him focus on the present moment and not when Danarius made him do the very same thing. He slurps up his cum with an obscene noise and Anders groans at it.
"That's it, just right," Anders praises. "So good. Such a good boy."
Fenris whimpers against his boot as he keeps licking it clean. He came so much, it's mortifying how much this sensation gets him off, the hurt and the pain being eclipsed by the bliss of rutting against his owner's shoe like an unruly dog. The praise helps, too, with how it makes him feel like biting, like growling. Anders knows how to mediate both sides of him, the anger and the subservience both, until he's left shaking and wanting more.
After a few moments, Anders leans down to grab him by the hair and gently pull him upwards. He settles on his knees and presses against Anders' once again hard cock and lets out a breathless whimper. His own length is soft between his legs and he's not sure if he can get hard again, but he wants to, wants to grind against Anders in this dance forever, so desperate and feral.
He growls against Anders' shaft before he takes him in, eyes fluttering shut. His teeth scrape against him and it only gains a gasp out of him before he twists his hand in his hair.
"No teeth, mutt, be a good boy," Anders orders airily.
He's too deep in to disobey. He curls his lips over his teeth and starts to bob his head up and down, his tongue lavishing his foreskin with attention as he pulls it up and down with dedication, playing with the cockhead like it's the most delicious thing in the world—which it really is, as salty pre-cum drips onto his tongue.
"Yes, mmf, that's it, Fenris, that's it," Anders encourages. "You wanna hump again?"
Fenris whines softly around his cock and settles himself in position, Anders sliding his foot forward to settle between his legs. He presses against the spot that connects thigh to foot and rocks against it, even as his cock won't cooperate any more. It's not getting hard, but it still feels so good, shivers of pleasure sliding up his body, from his cock to his taint up his back and all the way to his head. He's all fuzzy with it, with this vulnerability, with how the metal scrapes against his flaccid cock.
"Maker," Anders curses as he pulls him closer, until his nose meets his pelvis and he's rocking deep into his mouth, his balls slapping against the brands on his chin. Each thrum of pain makes Fenris dizzier. He wants to bite, growl, cling, but his hands end up behind his back, the picture of servitude. "Fuck, you like it, you love it, don't you? Such a good boy," he praises. "Going to come again, ah, fuck, and then I'm going to take care of your cock, going to reward you for being such a good boy, mmf…"
Fenris is getting cross-eyed, panting hard around him, exhaustion starting to settle inside him. He knows Anders could go so many more rounds, and a part of him feels guilty for not being so available for his owner. Maybe if he just lies down and lets him fuck his throat however much he likes… He whimpers around his cock and Anders pulls him away.
"Too tired, mutt?" he asks.
Fenris nods, panting, sticking his tongue out a little like a dog in the summer heat.t
Anders smiles and takes his cock in his hand while the other pulls Fenris' head back by his hair, yanking with a harsh pull that makes him yelp. He stays there, his hips rutting against the boot still as Anders jerks himself off until he paints his face with his cum. Anders groans and gasps as he spills all over his face, spurting out thin, watery cum that still sticks to his face and lands onto his mouth.
He swallows what falls there and closes his eyes, his hips going still, his length soft against his boot. He's so fuzzy and happy, floating—he wants to bite his handler, growl and howl, but all that comes out of him is happy little purrs.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm done," Anders breathes, rubbing his neck. "Let's get you cleaned up."
"Yes Ser," he mumbles. He follows his lead blindly, standing on shaky legs and heading towards the master bathroom, connected to the bedroom. He seldom uses it, it's too big, too much, though now it works because they need more room for both of them to bathe at the same time.
Anders helps him settle on the edge of the bathtub as he conjures water from ice and starts to warm it up with a rune meant for it. It's one of those little things that keeps him in the present, the simple fact that he's allowed warm water—he hadn't known the privilege of it until Anders had found the rune in the bathroom after a session. Anders settles next to him and leans down, grabbing his soft length and looking at it with a careful, medical eye.
"I'm going to use some magic here, so the bruises don't swell," he warns, as he always des when he's about to use magic. "Do you want the pain gone?"
Fenris whines softly. "No, Ser."
Anders smiles, amused by his desire to remain in some pain. "Good boy."
There's a jolt of magic over his length and the throbbing pain over his shaft disappears, but there's still some remnants of it, pulsing, smaller. Anders could've taken all of it away but he knows he likes it, for things other than his brands to hurt. He's so nice for asking.
Anders rubs his hip for a moment before helping him get up and get into the water. He's still floaty and he doesn't want to go back down—he closes his eyes and lets Anders wash him. Each movement is careful, loving, almost worshipful with how he scrubs his sides, cleans them of the soap suds and then goes to another part of his body to repeat the process.
"You did very good," Anders says as he washes his hair. "Are you still there, hm, Fenris?"
"Mmhm," he replies, tired. He leans against his torso. "Yes, Ser."
"Alright." Anders hums and rubs his fingerpads against his scalp. He groans softly at the sensation, squirms in the water. "You don't want out?"
Fenris lets out a sigh, closes his eyes. "No, Ser."
This is a common part of their routine after scenes—Fenris basks in the way his mind is empty, in how he is not worrying, not fretting, not paranoid. He can just be, for a little while, until Anders puts him to bed. When Anders is finished with him, he rushes through washing himself up and gets them both wrapped up in towels. Fenris drains the bathtub and gets up, heads to the bedroom and dries himself. The towel scrapes against his brands uncomfortably, but he's used to it.
Anders puts smalls on and pulls the bedcovers back, ushering Fenris to lay down. He does so, curls up on the bed, almost in fetal position.
"There you are," Anders says. "You had a good time, right?"
"Mmhm."
"I'll have to make you hump my boots more often, then."
Fenris shudders and manages to look up at him just as he threads his hand over his wet hair. He leans into the touch as Anders smiles down at him.
"Please do, Ser."
Anders chuckles gently, leans down to kiss the top of his head. "Sleep, pup. Need you more levelheaded to talk about it more."
Fenris smiles at that and closes his eyes again, leans into the soft caresses, how Anders plays with his hair. He's so lucky to have such a great owner now, here. It's easy to fall asleep while Anders mumbles sweet nothings against him.