Stress Relief

Mithvakha moped into his mug of ale. How many was this… three? Four? He didn’t know. Didn’t care. It had been *months* since he’d seen his lover. And self gratification only went so far. Not that he’d even had much time to do that.

As a Mage, Grey Warden Commander, and Arl of Amaranthine he’d had his hands full with keeping the newest threat tightly controlled. Despite *that* danger finally gone he still wasn’t allowed to relax. His lover’s proclamation for Circle Freedom hadn’t gone over as well as had been hoped and now he was being hounded by both the Circle and the Chantry.

The Circle wanted him to come back to them and add First Enchanter on top of the other heavy titles he wore, and the Chantry wanted to place him in custody for being an Apostate. Never mind that he couldn’t live at the Tower anymore because of his duties, and never mind that once one became a Grey Warden everything *else* became irrelevant. It didn’t matter what you were before, becoming a Grey Warden was supposed to make that go away.

And then there was the matter of Jowan, who he’d set free at Redcliff. His old friend had showed up in the dead of night seeking refuge. Only Anders’ pleading had an effect on him and he compromised by throwing Jowan in *his* dungeon. The only solution to the matter (if he didn’t want his friend to become a tranquil) was to invoke the Right of Conscription, and he’d already angered the Chantry by doing that with Anders after he first arrived at Vigil’s Keep. Hopefully this situation could be diffused as soon as the Circle was granted its freedom. Then he only had to worry about angering the Circle, and didn’t have to fear repercussions from the Chantry.

Until then he was going to spend this night face down in his mug of ale and hope that Alistair showed up and soothed his worries away with a night of loud, fervent sex, and a good massage afterwards.

And then someone tapped on his shoulder. Without turning around he groaned and took another swallow, “Maker’s *breath* what does an elf have to do around here to get some time to himself?”

“Sorry there Commander.”

Mithvakha turned around and sighed, “Sorry Anders. It’s just… frustrating.”

“I know, I know. I wanted to see if you wanted a drinking partner since the dwarf is passed out over in the corner.” Anders sat in a seat across from his commander, chuckled and pointed to where Oghren lay snoring.

Mithvakha wrinkled his nose and nodded, braids slapping the base of his neck. “I really need to redo these…” he muttered, tugging on one of the cornrows. “They’re starting to look a little shabby.”

“I could help.” Anders offered, “I remember helping quite a few friends in the Tower with theirs when I was younger.”

Mithvakha nodded again and stood on wobbly legs, “Let’s go now then.”

Anders was on his feet in a flash, supporting the smaller mage. “Here ya go Vakha… let’s get you to your room.”

Mithvakha nodded, drained the rest of his mug and dropped it on the ground, before allowing himself to be led back to his chambers. His head swam and he let himself be laid on his bed, face down. The alcohol was starting to hit him hard and he nuzzled the pillow as large muscular hands started massaging his back. “Mmm. Alistair…” he murmured.

There was a chuckle, “Not Alistair…” and a nose nuzzled his ear and then he felt someone nibble the tip.

“Anders?! What?!” Mithvakha started to turn over. “What are you doing?”

Anders chuckled again, “I’m seducing you. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“But? I…” he started wiggling away from the other mage, “No you can’t do this.”

“He can’t do what?” Mithvakha looked up and saw Alistair leaning on the doorway, grinning.

Anders stood up from the bed and grinned, “I was wondering when you were going to get here. You almost had me worried.”

Alistair laughed, “Worried? You seemed to be doing just fine without me.” He crossed over to a now very confused Mithvakha and placed a kiss on the elf’s forehead. “Hello love, confused?”

Mithvakha looked back and forth between the two blondes and nodded. “Very. What’s going on?”

Alistair sat beside him on the bed, and put an arm around the brunette’s shoulders, “Anders wrote me a letter about a month ago expressing his concern for you. He’d told me how stressed you were, how you’d been drinking enough to fell Oghren every night. We exchanged a few more letters and he finally asked me if he could do anything to help you relax.” Alistair quirked a grin, “In a lot more explicit terms of course. And I agreed. But only if I could be here as well.”

Mithvakha stared at his lover apprehensively, “You… agreed to this?”

“Of course. Seemed like a fun idea.”

Mithvakha stared at him, “Who are you and what have you done with my Alistair?”

Alistair and Anders let out eerily similar chuckles. “I’m myself my love. Trust me.” And then Alistair proceeded to kiss Mithvakha senseless.

Mithvakha’s senses were pretty well scrambled right now, and the kiss made them even more discombobulated. He felt hands on his shoulders, massaging them, soothing him. He relaxed a little; If Alistair said he was alright with this…

“There you go… That’s it…” His lover’s soothing voice in his ear, and he relaxed even further.

He let his eyes slip closed and sighed, leaning into the soft touches and gentle caresses. He felt himself being pulled up to his knees, and the warm bodies leaving him for a moment, before they returned. He kept his eyes closed though, unwilling to leave behind the realm of pure touch that he’d entered… until he felt nips along his thigh and his eyes flew open to a lap of long messy blonde hair. The other mage was kneeling on the floor, elbows propped up on the bed.

“A… Anders?” A tongue, slithering along the line of nips, and then he felt Alistair behind him, gentle kisses along the shell of his ear, raining down upon his shoulders and he closed his eyes again, giving over to the sensations.

Alistair continued to kiss his way down Mithvakha’s spine, gently massaging the flesh as he went. Anders palmed his erection, causing the elf to hiss and arch forwards. Twin chuckles, and there were fingers rubbing his entrance, slick, teasing. He was conflicted, confused, wondering if he should arch forward into the hand or wriggle backwards onto the fingers. He wanted both.

“Alistair…” he let out a low whine, “Please…”

That damned chuckle and a kiss on his neck, “Please what?”

Mithvakha whined a little louder, “You know what I want. Maker’s breath, stop playing games!”

Lips curved into a smile on his neck and the first finger slipped in. Mithvakha cried out and arched his back. Suddenly the hand on his erection was gone, replaced by the warm, wet heat of Anders’ mouth. The other mage *swallowed* creating a strange yet pleasurable sensation that jolted through the poor elf.

A second finger joined the first, and his hips twitched. He lost control of himself and started jerking his hips helplessly into that mouth, and then back onto the fingers. His skin prickled with desire and he nearly bit his lip through when he felt a third finger come into play. “Alistair, just… Dear Maker… Please…” he whimpered, needing, wanting Alistair to make love to him.”

Alistair nipped his neck a little before withdrawing his fingers and entering his smaller lover without hesitation. Mithvakha let out an unusually high pitched keen and groaned when he felt Alistair start to move.

“Tell me if I hurt you, love…” he heard murmured into his ear as teeth bit down gently on his neck. He babbled something, he wasn’t sure, and shifted his hips a little so Alistair’s every thrust brushed that pleasurable spot inside him.

The mouth on his erection never wavered or faltered, and he felt the other mage close his mouth slightly, and add the sensation of teeth lightly scraping with every thrust… and that was it. He cried out Alistair’s name, and shot his seed down the other man’s throat as his muscles seized and clamped down on Alistair.

He felt his lover stiffen behind him as the human followed Mithvakha into orgasm. Then he was being pulled back onto the bed, away from Anders and into Alistair’s embrace. He opened his eyes and smiled at Anders a little bit, before snuggling up to Alistair and letting his eyes slip shut again as he fell swiftly into the Fade.

Anders stood slowly and nodded at Alistair, “Thanks. By the way.”

Alistair wrapped his arms around the sleeping elf and smiled gently, “He’s my world. I appreciate you writing to me, and letting me know how bad off he was.”

Anders nodded, shuffling his smallclothes around to hide his erection, “I didn’t want my friend to have a breakdown. I’m glad you took the time to show up… and… to let me share this.”

Alistair nodded and then grinned, “Gonna go take care of that yourself?”

Anders chuckled darkly, “Oh no. I think it’s time to let Nathaniel Howe in on a little secret.” And with that he slipped out the door.

Alistair smiled wryly at Mithvakha’s sleeping head, “You have a bad habit of rescuing people who want to kill you, love… But I suppose it’s just a part of who you are; maybe you see something in them that others don’t. Both of them have proved exceedingly loyal…” He mused before closing his eyes and concentrated on sleeping, knowing that this respite wouldn’t last long and he’d be back to being King soon enough.

(((AHA. There. I did it. My second threesome, hope it isn’t TOO bad. And yeah. Nate/Anders is still my OTP. As much as I *like* the idea of Anders/PC I just can’t think about it anymore. I must has Nate/Anders somewhere in the fic. Even if it’s only in passing. I’ll be posting a sequel of Anders Ambushing Nate after this and snogging him into submission.

Until then, I have another challenge. Wade/Herren. They seem easier to write as pointless fluff, but I made a promise, and I will keep that promise. I just need to know how to get it started. It may take a while. Wish me luck!)))