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Power Games

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The knock at the door was unexpected.

Tannusen shared a glance with Zevran, the other man turning his head almost lazily to look up at him before settling his gaze on the door.

"Come in," Tannusen called, watching as Zevran casually set one hand near the blades at the edge of the wide stone bath-tub. The Antivan was still lounging in the warm water, one arm on the edge of the large basin, his shoulders relaxed and pliable under Tannusen's hands. For his own part, Tannu had finished cleaning up much more quickly, and had dried off and slipped into a clean pair of pants before sitting on the floor behind the other man, sweeping his damp hair to the side and digging his fingers into tattooed skin. He wasn't as good at massage as Zevran was, but the assassin made a willing enough teacher, and he seemed to enjoy the practice.

Tannusen was mostly facing the door, one long leg crossed over the other, stretched out before him, half-lounging against the wall and partially-twisted to reach the Antivan with both hands. Between his magic -- even without a staff -- and Zevran's blades at hand, he wasn't particularly worried about whoever it was who was knocking.

The door slowly opened. An uncertain-looking Alistair stepped in with the soft clink of armor, shutting the door behind himself. He looked up, saw the two elves... his face immediately heated, but he straightened with a determined clench of his jaw, and Tannusen sighed.

"He's here to lecture me," he murmured to Zevran, "look at him, all tense and angry..."

Zevran lifted the hand still submerged, trailing warm water over Tannusen's bare arm as he reached back to touch the back of the mage's head, drawing him forward for a leisurely, relaxed kiss. Tannu sighed into the contact, shutting his eyes for a moment. The message was unspoken but clear: relax.

It was easy to forget about Alistair, at least for a short time, lost in the soft, hot slide of lips and tongue, the taste that was distinctly Zevran, the softness of wet hair under his fingers as he lifted a hand to the back of the other elf's head in turn... he'd never known a man like Zevran before. Someone who kept coming back to him...

The big armored human in the room cleared his throat.

"Is there something we can help you with, my good friend Alistair?" Zevran finally asked as they broke the kiss, setting both of his arms back against the wall of the stone basin between himself and Tannusen.

Alistair stared at them. Well, at Zevran. He was carefully not looking at Tannusen, the mage noticed. "I feel stupid for asking now, but... are you okay, Zevran?" Alistair shifted uncomfortably in place. "The... the stuff I saw, he's not... controlling you, is he? Hurting you?"

"Controlling me? Hurting me?" Zevran repeated, half-turning under Tannusen's hands to better look at the human.

Tannusen... laughed. He released Zevran's shoulders with a final rub and settled back against the wall properly, folding his hands across his stomach and watching Alistair fidget. "He thinks I'm a blood mage," Tannu purred, "and that I've made you my thrall."

"Well, are you?" Alistair demanded, straightening again, the tall human suddenly much more imposing in his armor as he advanced on the two elves, one nude and one only half-dressed. Tannusen tipped his head back against the wall to look up at the other Warden when he finally stopped, not far from the mage's bare feet. "Have you? You obviously know about it if you know what I think!"

"I know about it," Tannusen confirmed mildly, "but I am not a blood mage."

"Maker's breath," Alistair all but spat, "just what was that, then!"

Zevran shifted in the water beside him, clearly intending to speak up. Tannusen silenced him with a sharp glance and a shake of his head. The Antivan frowned lightly, but remained quiet... for now.

"If you want to beat me," Tannusen purred up at the human, who had taken an angry step forward at that exchange, and now loomed over his legs, "I promise not to fight back, ser templar," he had to look almost straight up at this range, seated on the floor as he was, the back of his head against the wall. Alistair stared down at him in dumbfounded shock.

"I... no! I'm not like that!" the human threw up his armored hands and backed away. "Just -- blood magic? How could you even--"

"I told you," Tannusen interrupted softly, "I am not a blood mage."

"I don't know if I can believe you," Alistair sounded shaken. He turned his back to pace away, but didn't move to leave the room. He pulled a chair out from the room's small table and dropped into it with a clink of armor, running a gauntlet over his hair. "You're so closed-off, and secretive, and odd, and then... and then this..."

"What do you know about thralls, Alistair?" Tannusen asked, watching Zevran shift in the water so that he could watch both men, the Antivan's movements graceful and deceptively relaxed.

"They're slaves," Alistair bit out, "sex-slaves, generally. Broken and defiled and hurt until it's all they want, controlled by their blood mage until their use runs out. Blood mages," he lifted his head to stare at Tannusen with narrowed eyes, "get off on the power over their minds and souls, and they use their suffering and their blood to make themselves more powerful. It's an evil, terrible magic, and I had hoped to never witness it."

"You haven't," Tannu laughed with strange ease, and reached to casually push a damp lock of Zevran's hair behind his ear, "Zevran and I submit to each other in turns, Alistair. It's fully consenting and involves no magic. Well," he amended, "I use my magic to do things, but only things he likes."

Zevran's eyes had half-lidded, the man appearing utterly relaxed. "Things he likes very much," the assassin added, pulling a more genuine, lopsided smile out of the mage for a moment.

"Of course he'd like it, they always do, it's part of the brainwashing!" Alistair covered his face with his gauntlets, "I don't know what I'm supposed to do, now."

"I am no thrall," Zevran snorted, "that was no worse than the things we Crows sometimes practice. If you will not believe your fellow Grey Warden, then believe the man you think is a victim, no?"

"But if you were my thrall," Tannusen noted calmly, re-folding his hands across his stomach, "you would feel compelled to defend me like this."

"Whose side are you on precisely, my dear?" Zevran raised an eyebrow at him.

Tannusen smiled faintly. "I did offer to let him beat me."

"So you did," the Antivan snorted his disdain for the idea. "But you and I both know it is only because of your..." Zevran trailed off, realization clearly dawning. The two dots weren't hard to connect, but Tannusen had taken care to avoid letting both dots even be seen, before. He supposed there was no helping it, with the other Warden's accusations.

"Because of his...?" Alistair demanded from the table, looking up at the two elves again instead of at his boots. "Because of his what?"

"Conditioning," Tannusen supplied, remaining outwardly relaxed, fingers interlocked across his bare stomach, his gaze steady on the almost-templar, "I am no blood mage, but I am -- was --" he corrected himself with a faint, humorless smile, "a thrall."

The mage watched for a moment as Alistair visibly tried to process this new information, and then let his gaze slide to Zevran, who was staring at him already. He smiled at the assassin, bothered at the knowledge that it was a wavering smile at best, and was surprised when Zevran reached out, took him by the back of the head again, and drew him forward into another slow kiss.

Theirs was a dangerous game. Far more-so than any metal rods and lightning and strange leather straps.

His lack of worry was, in itself, distantly worrisome. This strange peace bothered him.

"I have a proposition," Tannusen said once Zevran pulled back from his lips sometime later, leaving the mage with the Antivan's taste and that odd tingle of a lower lip thoroughly-sucked. "I would like it if you would dominate me," he purred, stroking a hand down Zevran's cheek, "with Alistair."

"W-what? Why?" Alistair stammered and quickly stood, the chair clattering to the floor. "That's really not..."

"I need you to trust me," the mage interrupted, turning his gaze to Alistair again, "or at least my magic. I can't have you wondering if I'm controlling anyone, or if my healing magic comes at a dark cost in the middle of battle," Tannusen explained calmly, "Blood mages get off on power, not on being powerless. I have a taste for both. And Zevran isn't even a mage, so if he enjoys dominating me... and if you enjoy it..."

"That proves you need not be a blood mage to enjoy these games," Zevran added thoughtfully, "on top of showing that you are able to enjoy the other side of the coin, yes?" A finger under Tannusen's chin turned his face back toward Zevran, "I approve, my dear Warden. Quite clever. Although... you did seem reluctant when I mentioned a third party before."

Tannusen felt a thread of unease slide down his spine. "I... trust your judgment," he murmured. Zevran would be careful in what he allowed, he knew. "And I am submitting to you, not to Alistair."

"Very well," Zevran stroked his thumb over Tannusen's lips, and pushed in.

The mage parted his lips and teeth, tonguing the intrusion, smiling a little as he heard Alistair shift in place. He hadn't gone running for the door, at least.

"Take your armor off, Alistair," Zevran chuckled, climbing out of the stone basin of still-warm water, his thumb pressing harder against Tannusen's tongue with the movement. And then the assassin's fingers beneath Tannu's chin were tilting his head up as the Antivan stood over him, one foot on either side of his thighs, warm water dripping off his skin.

Zevran's back was to Alistair, and Tannusen had eyes only for the gleaming expanse of skin before him, but he could hear the human fidget nervously. "I... what? I never agreed to..." Alistair stammered.

"Take your armor off, Alistair," Zevran repeated patiently, slipping his thumb free of Tannusen's lips and replacing it with the tip of soft, sensitive flesh. He moaned quietly and put his hands against the wall as Tannu leaned up to take more of him, sucking the water off his skin. "Mm, his mouth is so hot, Alistair," Zevran's thick accent caressed the words, "Don't you want to feel it, too?"

Tannusen disengaged with a deliberately wet noise, and immediately took him back in again, sitting up a bit straighter, his hands unfolding from his stomach and bracing against the floor instead to facilitate leaning in and up for more. Already, flesh began to swell under his care, Zevran's hips moving slowly as he worked him towards hardness.

"He has a bit of an... ah... oral fixation, you know," Zevran told Alistair, lowering a hand to brush Tannusen's mostly-dry hair out of his face, "among other things."

Neither elf had to see the almost-templar's face to know it was crimson as buckles finally were undone and heavy metal plate was set aside, piece by piece. "I'm just... I'm just going to observe, that's all," Alistair said, probably as much to try to convince himself as anything, "and dispel magic once in a while, just in case."

"As you say," Zevran didn't sound very impressed by the idea. He tipped his head back and moaned softly, and Tannusen shuddered at the sound, aware that the assassin's gaze found him again quickly after, calculating.

Another wet sound, this time as Zevran pulled back from his lips, his flesh hardened to a respectable state. Zevran gripped his hair as he stepped back further, and then to the side, tugging Tannusen upwards. Obediently, the mage rose to his knees, and then to his feet at another tug, Zevran leading him directly to the human standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

A tug downward had the mage dropping gracefully to his knees again, now in front of the other Warden. Alistair had removed all of his armor, leaving only the clothing he wore beneath it. The human stared down at him with wide, uncertain eyes.

"Untie his breeches," Zevran instructed, smoothing Tannusen's hair back down after relinquishing his grip on it, "with your teeth."

Tannusen barely leaned forward, lips parting, before Alistair broke and backed up several steps. "What -- I said I would observe, not p-participate!"

Without further instructions to counter the first, Tannusen dropped forward and slinked towards the human man on his hands and knees as Alistair continued to back away. His crawl was almost predatory in its grace, too long-practiced to be anything but fluid and natural. The mage backed Alistair up against a wall and took the ties to his pants in his teeth, tugging gently until the knots were undone.

"There is no need to be so coy, Alistair," Zevran chuckled from somewhere behind Tannusen, "I can see how hard you are even from here. Play with him through his clothing, my dear." That last part was obviously directed at the mage, who obediently gave the rough fabric of Alistair's trousers a long, hard lick, feeling the heavy bulk of hard flesh beneath. The cloth tasted and scented of heavy arousal; the man probably hadn't even touched himself after the earlier display. Clearly, he was overdue for some... attention.

Tannu sealed his lips over the fabric, and sucked.

"M-Maker!" Alistair's knees almost buckled, and he leaned heavily against the wall. "How does he do that!"

"He does a great many more things than that, my friend," Zevran chuckled deeply, and Tannusen felt the Antivan reach around his hips, untying the simple knot in Tannusen's own trousers, and then sliding them down beneath his ass. The mage shivered as he was exposed, but concentrated on working his tongue, hard and wet, over the rough, thin cloth, trying to map the still-growing flesh beneath, dampening the barrier between himself and the virginal human.

Zevran's fingers, slick with oil, pressed into him, and Tannusen shuddered, spreading his thighs as best as he could with his pants still mostly-on, curving his spine to give the Antivan the best possible access. Those fingers touched, probed, twisted... Tannu moaned softly against Alistair's hard flesh through warm, moistened cloth, the vibration and hot air of his breath prompting the human to gasp out raggedly, nearly collapsing in place.

Under his lips, that flesh grew even harder; hotter; thicker.

Those wicked fingers left Tannusen empty, and then Zevran was standing beside him, taking his hair in hand and guiding him away from Alistair's heavy, unseen arousal and to his own hard flesh. Tannusen eagerly ran his lips and tongue down the side of Zevran's shaft as his hair was released, tonguing a vein along the bottom on his way back up, teasing the tip of him...

Alistair gave a choked noise that nearly qualified as a groan. Tannu could feel his eyes on him -- and his work -- as he sucked and licked back down Zevran's length, not yet swallowing him back up, pressing his tongue here and wiggling it hard, and stroking it there... he knew his way around the Antivan now; knew what he loved best. Zevran rewarded him with appreciative moans and little thrusts of his hips.

"...Enough playing, my dear," Zevran eventually drawled, "suck on me."

Before Tannusen could obey, Zevran stepped closer to Alistair, half-facing the human and near enough to lean against his side, if he wished. "And watch Alistair while you do it," he breathed, "convince him he should lower his trousers for us, my pretty little mage, and perhaps I will give you something to hold deep inside."

Alistair began to protest, but cut off when his gaze locked with Tannusen's, the kneeling man shuddering with a spike of need. Zevran touched the tip of himself to Tannu's lips, and the mage parted them, pushed forward, cheeks hollowing as he sucked. Alistair reacted as though his lips were around himself, thanks to how closely Zevran stood, the human's lips parting, cheeks burning red, eyes wide. "I -- what -- oh."

Tannusen purred his approval, pushing down the other man's length until his nose pushed against the soft, warm skin of the Antivan's body, still watching Alistair at least out of the corner of his eye. Zevran's moan -- normally he made far less noise, and Tannusen wholeheartedly approved of this change, even if it was for Alistair's benefit -- made him harden fully. He was still trapped by his pants, in the front, and he saw Alistair's gaze flick down to the strain against dark cloth before raising back to Tannusen's mouth.

"Where does... a-are you down his t-throat?" Alistair stammered, "Doesn't that... doesn't that hurt him?"

"It can be a little -- ahh -- uncomfortable," Zevran admitted, stroking his fingers over Tannusen's hair as the mage swallowed around him, the muscles of his throat stroking the Antivan's thick weight. "But we are both... uhn... experts at the art, I assure you."

Tannusen pulled back, tipping his head slightly to one side; shoved forward, the tip of his tongue pressed hard in a line... he made a game of seeing how many new sounds he could wring out of Zevran, now that they had an audience, his thrill at each gasp or soft moan as good as any touch.

Zevran eventually halted him with a tug at his scalp. "Back to Alistair, my dear," he ordered, "we would hate for him to feel neglected, now wouldn't we?"

The mage gladly did as he was told, turning to the other man, tonguing just beneath the head the human's flesh through his pants, sliding down, nuzzling beneath against the soft sac hidden from his eyes. Alistair clutched at the wall behind him, shuddering. "I--" a gasp, "I've never seen him so..."

"Submissive?" Zevran supplied, and then chuckled, "You have seen nothing yet, my friend."

Tannusen locked gazes with the warrior as he stared down at him, the man's eyes just a touch glazed. With a lopsided smile, Tannu dropped onto his hands and tipped his head up, parting his lips and sucking at the soft weight behind cloth, laving his tongue over the taste of sweat and lust. Alistair tipped his head back, squeezing his eyes closed, shuddering.

"On your back," Zevran breathed, "slide your pants down slowly and beg like a good little whore for Alistair's cock."

Alistair's head whipped to the side, the almost-templar opening his mouth to protest, but Tannusen rose back to his knees and then fell gracefully back onto the hardwood floor, hooking his thumbs in the untied waist of his trousers and undulating. To say that Alistair was instantly distracted was an understatement, the man's eyes fixing on the slowly-writhing mage.

Slowly, Tannu slid the cloth down, the head of his sex peeking out against his body, flushed and hard. His ass was already bare against the cold floor, and the slide of the cloth down his thighs was easily managed, his hardness half-standing beneath the heated gaze of both men.

"I like it when he calls me a whore," Tannusen whispered, "I love being on my knees, taking him down my throat... you should let me take you, too, Alistair," at a crook of Zevran's finger, Tannusen rolled back up to his knees again, nuzzling his face against the straining flesh beneath Alistair's trousers. "Please, I want to see it, touch it," he licked his lips, "taste it..."

Alistair lifted trembling fingers, parted his untied clothing, and -- hesitantly -- drew himself out. Tannusen murmured his appreciation, glanced at Zevran for approval, and then ran the tip of his tongue along the side of the almost-templar's flesh. "Why -- ah! -- why would he want to be ca... called a whore?" Alistair asked Zevran, obviously trying to distract himself from what he'd just allowed with his own hands.

Pleased at this new game, Tannusen dropped one kiss, then another, and another, back down the side of Alistair's thick sex. The velvet skin twitched beneath his lips, delightfully sensitive to the tinniest touches.

"I assume he was conditioned to enjoy being degraded," Zevran mused distractedly, slowly stroking himself, his warm golden-brown eyes fixed on Tannusen's work. "Some enjoy it without conditioning, but it strikes me as a very thrall-like thing to want, yes?"

"Th-then why..." Alistair was left panting for a moment as Tannusen nuzzled up against the base of him, carefully tonguing the sac beneath. The body knew what it wanted even if the rest of him was clueless about the proceedings, and the human parted his legs a little, pushing his hips out to give Tannusen more room to work. "...Maker... why... why en-encourage it?"

"He enjoys a great many things that are far worse for his health than that," Zevran chuckled, stroking Tannusen's loosened hair out of his face so that his view remained unobstructed, tucking the white-blond strands behind Tannu's pointed ear. "Normally, we have ways of calling the other off if something is truly too much for us. But with him, I doubt there is very much at all that he would back away from, even when he should. There are old marks, all over his body..."

Tannusen glanced up as he ran the flat of his tongue up the bottom of Alistair's cock, making the human tremble and gasp. Zevran was still watching him, still stroking himself slowly, but his expression was... thoughtful. "So, in some ways, it is up to me to draw the line for him," Zevran stated, "but it is... a responsibility not without its rewards, no?" It was stated as much for Tannusen's benefit as Alistair's, he realized. They never talked about these things, both men shying away from too much analysis. But with Alistair there to explain it to, it was... oddly tolerable.

Zevran was just explaining to the other man. That was all. Or so both men could tell themselves.

"I-I can see that," Alistair panted out, hips moving slowly, reflexively, as Tannusen continued to lavish attention on his long-neglected flesh. "Holy Andraste, he's...!" whatever he was going to say cut off in a startled moan as Tannusen took him in hand to keep him in place and tongued the slit at the very tip of him, his fingers squeezing out a drop of thick fluid to taste.

The healer purred his approval, lapping up another tiny drop, stroking his hand down and then back up to squeeze out another, and another. Alistair was a trembling, incoherent mess against the wall by the time he slid his lips over that flared head, sealing tight, sliding down... his eyes fixed upward on the panting, flushed face staring down at him.

Zevran had walked out of his sight again, but Tannusen didn't pause in his work, obedient enough to not give in to the urge to pull away and glance back over his shoulder. He took Alistair in bit by bit, felt him nudge against the back of his throat; heard the other Warden suck in a sharp breath and hold it...

He took a breath of his own, and then swallowed Alistair whole, straight down to the root.

Alistair's head thumped back against the wall, and he cried out sweetly into the room, fingers clawing at the wall behind him, desperate and incoherent. Tannusen pulled back, sucked hard on his tip, swallowed him back down again...

Thump, thump, Alistair was going to give himself a concussion at this rate. The other Warden lifted a hand to silence himself, his cries muffled, eyes squeezed shut. He wouldn't last much longer.

"Pull away," Zevran's voice behind him had Tannusen immediately releasing Alistair and rocking back on his heels, leaving Alistair twitching and wet, almost sobbing for air. The human's knees visibly shook, and he began to slide down the wall--

Zevran stepped smoothly around Tannusen's side and pulled Alistair's arm over his shoulders, trying to hold him up, and he gave Tannusen a sharp nod that the mage took as an order, standing quickly and doing the same on the other side, the two elves bracing the large warrior up between them. Zevran steered them for the bed, which Tannusen noticed the Antivan had carefully turned-down, folding the covers down to the foot, neatly out of the way.

They helped Alistair climb onto the bed, the other man apparently too wound up to be nervous about the change of scenery, and Zevran pushed Tannusen on ahead of him. "Get his clothes off," the Antivan breathed into Tannusen's shoulder, crawling on behind him, stroking his hands down Tannusen's sides and gripping his hips. The feel of Zevran sliding against him, hot and hard and just a little slick, made Tannu's fingers shake as he peeled Alistair's boots off, running his hands back up the other Warden's legs, exploring trembling muscle through the cloth of his trousers.

He was even built like a true templar, with all that heavy armor he wore... Tannusen smiled a little, and licked up the length of Alistair's erection, sliding the human's tunic up as he did so, trapping his flesh against his stomach with his tongue. He flicked at that hot, slippery tip, then continued up along unexplored skin, shifting up along Alistar's body as Zevran's hands on his hips allowed, licking delicately at an exposed nipple.

Alistair was a wreck beneath him, gasping and tossing his head against the pillows. Zevran reached around Tannusen's hips to stroke both men, one oiled hand around each, his teeth set against the back of Tannusen's shoulder, his own hardness rubbing up against the mage's ass in slow strokes. It was clear who was getting fucked here, and Tannusen shuddered, pressing back, almost distracted from his task.

Almost, but not quite.

He peeled the other Warden's tunic off and tossed it aside, and was surprised when Alistair's suddenly grabbed his head in both hands and pulled him down for an awkward, fumbling, desperate kiss, all probing tongue and clashing teeth and bruising lips, his hips rocking up into Zevran's fingers. Inhibitions were obviously being tossed aside, Alistair finally too turned-on to care about how he looked or how he sounded or any number of other insecurities plaguing the inexperienced man.

Tannusen purred his encouragement into the kiss, his fingers roaming over Alistair's chest and stomach, enjoying the play of tense muscle beneath his hands. He softened Alistair's frantic kiss, sucking the human's bottom lip between his, nibbling delicately; sweeping his tongue between Alistair's lips to brush at the other Warden's, sliding in a slow, slick dance. Alistair shuddered beneath him, opening his mouth further, all but melting into the gentle touch.

"Mm... M-Maker's breath," Alistair gasped out once released, Tannusen working his way down the human's neck, shoulder, chest... "You're really good at this--ah!" Tannusen licked his way down the center of the other man's stomach, Zevran shifting to lay on his side beside Alistair, taking his face in his hands and kissing him now as well, silencing him.

The mage slowly peeled Alistair's trousers off, nudging his knees apart so that he could lick and nibble his way up one inner thigh... and then there was a hand in his hair, tugging him upwards. Tannusen obediently raised his head, crawling up at Zevran's tugging, Zevran breaking his kiss and positioning Tannu where he wanted him. Trapped between both men, Tannusen moaned softly and rocked his ass back against Zevran's hips, hard flesh sliding against him again. He was going to get fucked, right in front of an audience, and he tangled his legs with Alistair's as the human rolled onto his side to face them, glazed eyes fixed on Tannusen's face.

"You like to watch, don't you?" Zevran asked, reaching around Tannu's hip again, stroking Alistair's flesh in encouragement.

"Y-yes," Alistair gasped, rocking forward, his tip brushing against Tannusen's sex. Both men moaned softly, and Tannusen felt as much as heard Zevran's deep chuckle against the back of his neck.

"I am going to take him from behind while you watch," Zevran informed Alistair, "Touch him however you like, my good friend, I am sharing him with you tonight." Those words should have filled Tannusen with at least a little dread, but perhaps he was too far into the moment for his own reservations as well, or perhaps Alistair just wasn't that threatening. It hardly bore inspection right now.

Tannusen shuddered as Alistair pulled him into another kiss, the other man hesitant this time, but already clearly learning, the mage was glad enough to submit to the slow assault on his lips and tongue. He returned each slide and nibble, encouraging the other man, tasting him in turn as he shifted fitfully in place, rocking back against Zevran's hardness and then forward to brush against Alistair's.

"...Line me up," Zevran ordered some time later, sounding just a touch breathless, his slippery fingers squeezing and stroking Alistair, brushing up against Tannusen... the mage shuddered again, breaking the long, gentle kiss to pant raggedly for air. He reached back, took Zevran's slick length into his shaking fingers, and obediently held him in place, arching his back until it nearly hurt to give Zevran better access.

"Look Alistair in the eye, my beautiful whore," Zevran breathed, and nibbled on the edge of his ear, making Tannusen shiver, "the point is that he sees how much you love being used, remember?"

Tannusen groaned quietly, but did as he was told, catching Alistair's gaze and holding it. He struggled to keep his eyes open; to keep from tossing his head back as Zevran slowly pushed into him, his eyes locked on Alistair's. Slowly, he was filled. Slowly, until Zevran ground his hips against his ass, and Tannusen let a soft moan slip free, his hands settling against Alistair's chest, well out of the way of Zevran's slow strokes of the other man's sex.

He was surprised when Alistair's large, calloused hands cupped his face, the other Warden staring intently at him as Zevran pulled back and then slowly filled him again. Those hands felt cool against his skin, and so he knew his face was flushed and hot, his eyes glazed and struggling to remain focused.

Zevran had never done him slow before. Tannusen writhed slowly between the two men, and licked at Alistair's thumb when it stroked near his mouth. The other man had clearly been paying attention when Zevran had done this earlier, and pushed the digit between Tannusen's lips and teeth, forcing him to keep his mouth open, to not bite down...

Being unable to clench his jaw or silence himself, and forbidden to look away or close his eyes while Zevran slowly fucked him from behind pushed every vulnerable, submissive button Tannusen had. He tongued Alistair's thumb and moaned softly, squirming between both men, crying out when Zevran changed his angle and brushed against the swollen bump inside of him, struggling to keep his eyes open, to keep staring into focused, lust-fogged light brown eyes.

"Now," Zevran moaned, his slow strokes over Alistair's flesh matching his pace, "now he is submissive. You see?"

"Y-yeah," Alistair's gaze was transfixed, fascinated, "he's... ah... he's really lost in it, isn't he?"

"Mm," Zevran gave the back of Tannusen's neck a hot, slow lick, and slid back, grinding in against the spot that made Tannusen see sparks for a moment, a tiny whimper escaping his throat. "Watch his eyes, Alistair. He has no secrets like this, you see? No barriers. Isn't his submission beautiful?"

"...Maker's breath," Alistair breathed, and Tannusen felt a suspicious dampness on his eyelashes when he blinked, another soft noise slipping past Alistair's thumb as Zevran slid home again. "Y-yes, it... he really is..."

Zevran bit down on the back of his neck.

Tannusen gasped, jerking in place, struggling to keep his eyes locked with Alistair's as he suddenly clenched down around Zevran, tightening against those slow thrusts. Zevran's other arm snaked beneath his waist to close fingers around his cock and stroke, hard and fast, making Tannusen thrash in Alistair's grip on his head, shoving back hard against Zevran's hips; trapped and tangled and--!

He could see nothing for a moment but those shocked eyes staring him down, and then... the world sped back up, and he lay panting in their hold.

Zevran's fingers smeared liberally in the mess Tannusen made between himself and Alistair, and slid up to the mage's lips, sliding in beside Alistair's thumb. Tannusen heard Alistair's breath suck in sharply at the feel of Tannusen's tongue cleaning Zevran's fingers off, leisurely and relaxed in the aftermath of his climax. He sucked at both of their fingers, purring his approval as Alistair began to tense, crying out under Zevran's still-stroking hand...

More mess, and Tannusen broke their locked gazes only once his head was released, Alistair slumping in place in an exhausted, panting heap. He twisted sharply, turning his head to share a hard, needy kiss with Zevran as the Antivan began to move in earnest, grazing over-sensitive nerves often enough to make Tannusen whimper again -- embarrassingly -- and reach back to tangle his hand in Zevran's hair.

Zevran's groan was muffled into Tannusen's mouth as he jerked several more times and then came deep, deep inside of the mage, pumping in tiny thrusts that kept him deeply-seated as Tannusen deliberately clenched down around him, milking him dry. They broke the kiss only when they both desperately needed to breathe, panting hard into the silent room.

Alistair was watching them both with wide eyes when Tannusen un-twisted, and the mage offered him a lopsided smile. He shuddered, kneading his hands against Alistair's chest as Zevran pulled gently free, and settled down between the two men as Zevran hauled the blankets over the three of them.

They'd be a mess in the morning, and Alistair likely in more ways than one, but for now, some well-deserved rest was in order, and Tannusen laced his fingers with Zevran's, draping both their arms over Alistair's waist.

However the morning went, at least he'd proven his point!