Work Text:
Anders was going to kill Isabela.
He’d finally decided to take her up on her offer of a discounted massage at the parlour she owned, with a month’s worth of discomfort from napping on the loveseat in the clinic settled in his spine. He’d even double-checked that she was free to do his massage for his appointment.
She greeted him, hugged him, asked about his cat; then she smirked, told him that she’d had to adjust the schedule, and introduced him to Garrett. Who happened to be tall, dark, handsome, and fucking grinning at Anders like he just knew he was all of the above.
“Hey,” and his voice was perfectly sultry, of course it was, “come on back, I’m ready for you.”
Maker take the wheel, Anders thought. Isabela made a kissy-face at him, which he countered with a rude gesture and a futile attempt at not blushing.
Garrett led him down the hall to the last door and held it open for him, and even though Anders had certainly not been staring at the man’s perfect ass, he caught the movement of Anders’ eyes and grinned. His smile made Anders want to punch him, then apologize and kiss it better.
“Go ahead and get comfortable, I’ll be back in a few. Want anything to drink?”
Some of that whiskey Isabela keeps in her purse. “No thanks.”
After Garrett left, Anders stripped off his jacket and shoes and set his bag on the empty chair. The room was dimly lit and smelled of lavender, and soft ambient music played through a speaker somewhere; at least Isabela never forced her customers to listen to nature soundscapes when they were being manhandled by attractive, bearded men. The thought brought new definitions of “manhandled” to mind, and Anders sighed and stripped off his clothing, wondering if his blush was going to be permanent for the entire hour.
He had a dilemma with his underwear. On one hand, being naked around Garrett wouldn’t help his anxiety, but on the other, having the fabric bunch up in uncomfortable ways would make him fidget. Anders put on a brave face and slipped his briefs off, tucking them inside his folded jeans. He settled himself on his stomach and fumbled to get the sheet up to his shoulders, then tried to relax, arms folded under his head. This was supposed to be a soothing experience. He could use a soothing experience, but instead he was about to be touched by a man who looked directly lifted from Avvar mythology. For an hour.
He was going to kill Isabela.
The soft knock on the door startled him, and when he called out, “Ready,” he made an effort to keep his voice neutral.
The door opened and Anders kept his head down. He heard it shut, and Garrett moved around the room until he felt him stand next to the table. “You alright?” he asked, his voice quiet and dark and just not helping the whole soothing thing. The sheet lifted and folded down to expose his back, and Anders felt goosebumps prickle across his skin.
“Uh, yeah. Just haven’t done this in a while,” Anders replied. “All work and no play, you know.” Ugh, just stop talking, you’re making everything worse.
“No worries. Scoot up though, yeah?” Garrett patted the headrest and Anders moved up awkwardly, resting on the cushion and putting his arms to the side. He realized then that moving had made the sheet slip further down to rest across his ass, exposing the fact that he wasn’t wearing underwear, and he wondered how much of him would turn red in embarrassment.
Garrett didn’t seem to notice his distress, and he didn’t pull the sheet up. Oiled hands touched Anders’ shoulder, just a gentle brush against his skin as Garrett walked around to his side, then fingers started massaging his upper back. Anders made a soft noise, then bit his lip to muffle it, and willed himself to relax.
“This good?” Garrett asked.
“Yeah.”
“You like it hard?”
Anders felt something in his brain pop. “What?”
“The pressure?” That may have been amusement in the man’s tone.
“Uh… it’s… that’s fine. Good. Like that.” Maker, just kill me.
Garrett’s hands worked the stress out of his back slowly, and Anders heard him chuckle. “You’re very tense.”
“Ah, yeah.” He waited to respond until the rough spot in his shoulder stopped aching sharply. “I sleep on a couch at work sometimes. It doesn’t help.”
“No it doesn’t,” Garrett agreed. His thumbs found another spot close to his spine, and Anders tried to muffle a whimper. “Where do you work?”
“I’m a vet tech at an animal hospital.” Anders wasn’t normally one for small talk, but the conversation might distract him enough that he wouldn’t embarrass himself.
“Really? That’s cool. I love animals.” Garrett found another spot near his ribs that made him almost flinch. “I have a mabari at home.”
“You’re a brave man, those dogs are huge,” Anders said. It figured that such a rugged-looking man would have such a monster animal; Garrett was hitting all the marks on the “handsome lumberjack wildman,” list, and Anders briefly thought of asking him if he wore plaid.
“They are, but she’s a sweetheart. Lots of people are afraid of big dogs, but she wouldn’t hurt a fly. Unless it tried to steal her food.” Anders made another noise of pleasure mixed with hesitation, and tensed as Garrett’s hands moved to his lower back. “Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t ramble. I’m distracting you from the ‘relaxing’ part.”
“No, you’re good,” Anders said. “I mean, it’s good. The talking. I don’t mind.”
Garrett chuckled again, his fingers dipping lower and almost-barely touching his ass. “Let me know if I’m too distracting.”
Too late.
The man continued to ask about Anders’ work and make comments about his dog, and Anders finally felt the tension ease in his back, at least on the one side. Garrett moved around the table, and his hands returned, working down the opposite side. Anders’ mind drifted until his only thoughts were of how warm and strong Garrett’s hands were; he was so relaxed that when the masseuse’s thumb found a particularly hard spot, he didn’t stop the moan from leaving his mouth.
He felt Garrett’s hands stutter against his skin, and he was sure that he was blushing all the way down to his fingertips. “Sorry,” he said, with a self-conscious laugh.
“I’ll take it as a compliment that I’m doing something right,” Garrett replied, voice keeping that same charming tone, and his hands resumed their slow path across Anders’ lower back. The blond kept his lip between his teeth for the next few minutes, just in case any other mortifying noises slipped out. He was certain that Garrett already thought he was a fool; he didn’t want the man to think he was a fool and a creep.
The fact that Anders was half-hard wasn’t helping his situation, either, and he tried not to squirm as the masseuse finally (unfortunately) moved on to his arms. Thankfully, this was a much tamer area in comparison, and he relaxed as Garrett’s fingers rubbed down his forearms, taking Anders’ hand in both of his and kneading his palm. The blond’s noise of pleasure was much softer this time, but still seemed loud to his ears. “Holy shit,” Anders murmured.
“Good?” Garrett asked, as if he needed the praise.
“Yeah, I never thought hands could get tense, I suppose.”
The man chuckled and stroked each of his fingers in turn, pulling gently to pop his knuckles. “You know how it is to work with your hands all day. Petting all those dogs that come in.”
“Petting all the cats,” Anders corrected, and smirked at Garrett’s scoff. “The dogs are alright, I guess.”
“Well, now I’m mildly offended on behalf of Buttercup.”
“...You named your mabari ‘Buttercup’?” Anders asked incredulously. This man cannot be real, I must be hallucinating this entire visit.
“Of course I did, she’s adorable.” Garrett moved to his other arm as he spoke. “What else should I have named her?”
“Something tougher, maybe? More dignified?”
Garrett let out a disappointed sigh. “It’s a shame it’s come to this,” he said lightly, “And we were getting along so well, before you insulted my dog.”
Normally, Anders would have apologized despite Garrett’s joking tone, but he felt brave at the getting along so well line. “I’m sure your dog is lovely, she just has a ridiculous owner.”
“Can’t argue that one,” Garrett replied. “I suppose you have a cat, then? Must be named something pretentious, like ‘Lucifer’ or ‘Justice.’”
The blush returned, Anders could feel his ears burning. “Ser Pounce-a-lot.”
The fingers massaging his left hand stilled, and Garrett let out a genuine bark of laughter. “Oh, is that what you meant by ‘dignified’?”
“He’s been knighted, thank you very much.” Anders said indignantly.
“Maker, please tell me you actually had a ceremony knighting your cat, because that may be the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Anders was about to deliver a response along the lines of him not being that hopeless, but then the rest of Garrett’s sentence trickled into his consciousness; he was thankful that the man couldn’t see his surely idiotic expression. Anders cleared his throat nervously. “Er… I… no. Very hard to find cat-sized swords.” He meant the cat was cute, not you.
“Still cute, even without the historical accuracy.” Garrett gently replaced Anders’ arm at his side, brushing his thumb across Anders’ wrist and down his palm, shooting sparks of both arousal and anxiety. While he mentally argued with himself on whether or not Garrett had intentionally done that or if he was overthinking an accidental gesture, the man had moved to the end of the table, baring his left leg in the process.
Oh, I’m in trouble, Anders thought, and tried to calm himself as Garrett nudged his feet further apart. The sheet was draped over his ass, still keeping whatever modesty he had remaining from Garrett’s eyes, but just the idea of the man’s strong hands caressing their way slowly up his thighs had his pinned cock twitching with renewed interest. He shifted to bring his arms up by his head, in case he ended up needing to dig his nails into his palms to keep from squirming.
“Also tense here, I see,” Garrett said softly as he started to rub Anders’ calf. “I think you need a vacation.”
Anders let out a strangled noise that he passed off as a laugh. “If only I were so lucky.”
Apparently blessedly oblivious to his client’s distress, Garrett leisurely continued the massage, hands moving under his leg and stroking along his shin, then down his ankle. There was a pause as Garrett pulled a stool over to sit, draping Anders’ foot across his lap to knead the arch. “You can’t really be all work and no play.”
It was the first and likely only time that Anders would be so turned on by a foot massage, and he forgave himself for sinking into it and avoiding Garrett’s question for a few moments. “I, ah… work all day, come home late, and the cat and I watch Netflix. Sleep on the weekends. Lots of long shifts.”
“That sounds awful,” Garrett said sympathetically. “No girlfriend to drag you out for a good time?”
“Hah, no, no girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Neither for a while.” Anders could have facepalmed, realizing how pathetic he must sound, sitting alone with his cat all night, and he had fleeting thoughts of feigning illness or darting out of the room to fling himself into traffic. “I suppose I’m not very fun.”
He realized that Garrett’s thumb and index finger were rubbing light circles into his ankle around his Achilles’ tendon for what seemed like a truly unnecessary amount of time, but he couldn’t think to offer a complaint. Then the man stood up, settling his foot back onto the table, hand trailing slowly up his calf to the back of his knee, and Anders tried not to shiver at the touch.
“Maybe you need a chance to relax first, and then you can start having fun,” Garrett said smoothly, his voice not helping Anders relax in the slightest.
Garrett’s warm hands wrapped around his thigh, fingers moving almost torturously slow across his skin as the massage progressed, and Anders bit his lip again to muffle his increasingly heavy breathing. He willed himself not to tense up as Garrett’s hands moved higher, right to the edge of the sheet draped low across his ass, but he couldn’t help the noise that escaped as Garrett’s outer hand slid under the cloth.
“Tense here?” Garrett asked softly, caressing the line of his hip, other hand still lingering on his thigh.
Anders swallowed. “A bit,” he managed, amazed that his voice sounded level. He had no idea if this was still in “standard massage” territory, but his lust-addled mind was making him hyper-aware of every stroke of Garrett’s fingers against his skin. Don’t be a pervert, you can jerk off all you want to this later, but now is not the time to…
Garrett pulled away, but not before brushing his thumb just under Anders’ ass, right where his thigh joined his hip. The man made no comment on Anders’ startled gasp, just resettled the sheet over his left leg and moved around the table.
The same pattern followed, Garrett working his calf and then moving down to his foot, propping it in his lap, but there was no further conversation; Anders’ breathing sounded loud to his ears, left apprehensive and unbelievably turned on, and he wanted badly to believe that Garrett’s actions had been intentional, that something more might come of this, but that was a ridiculous idea, wasn’t it? The man was a professional. Their banter had been only casual conversation, it certainly couldn’t be flirting, Anders wasn’t attractive or interesting in any way, and there was no reason to think anything inappropriate of the situation.
He almost had himself convinced of the innocence of it all, even as Garrett’s hands traveled up his right thigh, until they lingered for a moment, thumbs massaging his skin, before gently venturing higher, closer and closer to his groin, slipping under the sheet...
Without thinking, Anders spread his legs a bit wider.
He stopped breathing as Garrett’s movements stilled, the silence and tension in the air thick between them, and then Garrett’s hand slid up hesitantly over the rounded cheek, fingers grazing so close to the crack of his ass. Anders didn’t muffle his moan in time, and caught the man’s quiet sigh despite the blood pounding in his ears.
“Are you…” Garrett rasped, and he cleared his throat, Anders realizing suddenly that he was just as fucking aroused, or at least exceptionally good at pretending. “Are you tense here?”
Sweet Maker I must be dreaming oh never let me wake up. “Yes,” Anders murmured, the word sounding more like pleading than consent. He dared to lift his head, turning to glance over his shoulder, growing bolder at the hungry gaze he saw reflected in Garrett’s eyes. “Very tense.”
That smirk returned, Anders nearly shuddering with the surge of heat that coursed through him when Garrett cupped his ass without any more pretense, fingers tracing across his cleft. The man brought both hands under the sheet, squeezing gently, and Anders groaned, head falling down onto his crossed arms as he tried not to squirm. Nothing had ever felt so good in his life than the slow massage he was being treated to, Garrett’s hands warm and strong against his skin, slowly exploring every inch of his ass from his hips to his thighs until Anders realized he was grinding his cock against the massage table.
He froze, embarrassed and uncertain, but Garrett’s low chuckle was oddly reassuring. “Don’t mind me, taking it as a compliment,” he said, thumbs dragging across Anders’ cleft. “Have to make sure we get all this tension worked out of you.”
All Anders could manage was a strained “Yes, please,” and he didn't care anymore if this was a dream or not, he needed those hands to keep touching him and to never stop.
Garrett slipped the sheet off and casually tossed it aside, leaving him bare. Anders turned his face into the table to avoid the man’s scrutiny; he was thin, covered in freckles, and didn’t present nearly as enticing of a figure as he imagined Garrett would. But all thought of his inadequacy flew out of his head when Garrett's hands returned to his skin.
The slow, firm movements soon had Anders’ hips grinding into the table again, but Garrett continued that teasing pace, rubbing his ass and spreading his cheeks wide to glimpse his hole. Anders blushed all the way to his toes at Garrett’s hum of approval.
“Just a sec,” Garrett said, taking the rolled pillow from under his feet and coaxing him with his hands to lift up so Garrett could slide it under his hips. It left him arched, exposed, his cock pinned against the pillow instead of his stomach and equally presented to Garrett's view. After a moment slick fingers cupped Anders’ ass, the sensations and the desperate urge for more leaving him excited, breathless, and vulnerable all at once. He whimpered, hand covering his mouth as Garrett spread him open again.
“You've got a great ass,” he said appreciatively, teasing the round cheeks with blunt nails. “Perfect size to squeeze. Kinda just want to play with it.” His tone was almost thoughtful, idly touching as Anders realized he was waiting for a response. Permission? Begging? Either he'd gladly provide.
“Yeah, you can…I want it,” Anders panted, his throat dry.
“Yeah?” Hawke confirmed, parting his ass gently, his own breathing harsh, and he purred in his dark voice, “What if I want to touch you here?”
Please please touch me fuck me please “Fuck, yes,” and Maker, that sounded desperate, but he ached now, his cock throbbing in full view and his ass pointed up and ready for whatever Garrett wanted. Which was apparently to oil up his ass and start massaging again, this time with his fingers moving across and down his cleft, tracing his hole, and he jerked and moaned in response to Garrett's thumbs circling him and just rubbing the tight ring of muscle, gentle and smooth and turning his body into liquid.
“That's right, just relax,” Garrett murmured. “Gonna make you feel so good.” Anders pillowed his arms under his head, covering his mouth to muffle the soft noises he couldn't contain as those nimble fingers teased him, one pressing in just the slightest bit as Garrett continued massaging his hole; he couldn't help clenching around it, trying to coax it deeper, but Garrett only chuckled. “Fuck, you're tense here, aren’t you?”
Anders whimpered when Garrett withdrew his hands, but they returned quickly, coated in fresh massage oil, enough that he could feel it trickle down to his balls as a finger breached him, achingly slowly and just that after all the teasing was enough to make him sob. Garrett gently rubbed his thumb over the spill of it, making soothing noises as he rubbed back and forth across Anders’ perineum and the tight rim stretched around his finger. Just one finger teasing him open was nearly too much; Anders could only nod against his arms when Garrett asked if he was alright, trying to let himself relax against the slick, steady rhythm.
The man let out an appreciative groan as the tension left Anders’ back, and he pressed deeper, crooking his finger as he withdrew until Anders saw sparks behind his eyelids and thrust mindlessly against the pillow holding him up with a muffled whimper. “There we are,“ Garrett murmured, still rubbing Anders’ taint with his other hand, and fuck, working his prostate from the inside out, seemingly content to languidly pleasure him and still completely ignoring Anders’ cock. “You're so good. Relax, sweetheart, I've got you.”
Anders never thought that being called “sweetheart” would do anything for him, but in that low, dark tone it had his hips jerking against the sheet even while he blushed. A second finger slipped in, just as carefully, Garrett thrusting both of them in and out, slow and steady. The ambient music still hummed in the dim room, air turning stifling with their closeness. Anders no longer cared about controlling his breath and nearly panted with need, shivering at the soft, slick noises of Garrett's fingers working his ass open. “Please, “ he moaned, and he was so hard he thought he'd die. “Touch me.”
“I am,” Garrett replied, massaging his prostate with each thrust, and he might come just from this, pressure building at the base of his spine, higher and higher until he was gasping. “That's it, come on, sweetheart, you can do it.”
It was so much, Anders felt like he was going to fly out of his skin, ass squeezing around the fingers inside him and moaning when Garrett's thumb pressed harder against his taint, oil-slick and strong, “I can't, I… oh… fuck,” Anders’ voice trembled as his legs shook, but Garrett didn't stop, didn't change his pace, kept working his body until Anders finally stuttered out a gasp, tensing as waves of ecstasy washed over him, his skin burning as he fought for breath and shuddered through it, whining as Garrett kept fingering him while he delivered praise.
“Yeah, that's it, just like that, so good for me, sweetheart. Let it out for me.”
Somehow, Anders felt it rising again, but it didn't even feel like he'd come, his cock throbbing and untouched and still needy; he could barely feel the head sliding wetly across the sheet with each uncontrollable jerk of his hips. “Oh f-fuck, wh… what are you doing to me?” he groaned, looking over his shoulder at the firm lines of Garrett’s body, all the man’s focus on taking Anders apart.
Garrett laughed softly, the hand not busy fingering Anders’ ass pressing against his lower back soothingly. “Giving that pretty ass of yours a massage. You said you needed to relax, and you'll be plenty relaxed by the time I'm done with you.”
The steady pressure didn't change, thick fingers rubbing his prostate expertly, and all Anders could do was press his forehead to the table and muffle his desperate noises against his hand, drooling over his fingers as he panted and trembled and let Garrett work another intense orgasm from his pliant body. He couldn’t stop his legs from shaking, and threaded his other hand through his hair to try and steady himself, trapped on the edge of too much and not enough and unable to do anything but hold on as Garrett wrecked him.
“You sound so good right now, fuck, you look good, all spread open like this and letting me touch you.” The pace stayed unbearably slow, just rhythmically stroking inside, the hand on Anders’ back still gently rubbing soothing circles into his skin at the same time, gliding smoothly from the oil and sweat; dimly Anders wondered how he'd ever have the strength to stand after this, but another burst of pleasure knocked a moan out of him and he stopped thinking altogether.
“You're still shaking, can you take more, sweetheart?”
“I… I don't kn-know- fuck- please,” Anders whimpered desperately, squeezing around Hawke's fingers as his cock and hips jerked; he just kept coming and coming but somehow not because he still ached with it, reduced to a writhing, sweaty mess of nerves and want and please please don't stop never stop -
Anders lost count of how many times the pleasure crested, hovering always on the edge of overstimulation yet yearning for more until Garrett finally finished. Anders felt worn out and ragged, he fought for breath, limbs weak, shivering as Hawke's fingers withdrew.
“Good, so good, fuck. Alright, sweetheart, that's it, just stay right there,” Garrett murmured, and all Anders could do was moan in response. Blood pounded in his ears, eyes half-closed as he watched Garrett wipe his hands clean and return, gently coaxing Anders’ hips up to slide the pillow away. “Here, roll over for me, I've got you.“
It was awkward and Anders would likely have fallen off the table had Garrett not helped him through it, carefully guiding him to lie on his back. In the dim light, Anders could see the way the man’s dark gaze raked over him, lingering on his straining cock and then trailing up to meet his dazed expression with a smirk. “Not quite done yet,” Garrett said, brushing Anders’ hair from his eyes. When Garrett’s hand closed tightly around his cock, Anders’ body reacted automatically, bucking up into the touch, barely enough time to cover his mouth before a desperate whine choked out. His back arched, trembling, burning from the inside out, he couldn't breathe it was so sharp and sweet and good oh fucking Maker.
Garrett’s voice brought him back to his senses, gently asking if he was alright, hand stroking through his hair. Anders didn't know how to respond to that, might not even be able to use words any longer, actually. He felt empty and whole all at once and then realized with a start that he was fucking covered in his own cum and Garrett was rubbing it into his hip. A shudder ran through him and he reached for Garrett’s hand, all self-consciousness lost in the afterglow, eyes lingering on the obvious erection in Garrett’s jeans.
“Come here,” he rasped, voice rough even without screaming.
Garrett shook his head, but squeezed Anders’ hand. “You don't have to.”
“Shut up and let me suck your cock,” Anders said, then licked his lips for good measure; he would probably be mortified later at being so forward, but the time for hesitation was long past if the mess all over his chest and stomach was anything to go by. Garrett seemed to agree, eyes widening with a curse as he hastily undid his jeans. Anders wished fleetingly there were more time to fully appreciate the man's dick, and shifted to his side, opening his mouth in invitation so that Garrett could simply slide his gorgeous, leaking cock past his lips.
Anders gripped his hip, coaxing him to fuck his mouth, Garrett resting a hand in his hair as Anders took him, moaning and still trailing his other hand through the cum sticking to Anders’ skin. “Oh fuck, that's good, sweetheart, yeah, that's it, you looked so good coming for me, and your fucking mouth, fuck, can I come on you?”
Anders nearly purred around Garrett’s cock at the thought and tried to nod; the other man must have understood even without words. He pulled free of Anders’ mouth, fisting his own cock, fingers slick with Anders’ cum, cursing and grunting as he came across Anders’ lazily parted lips. Streaks landed on Anders’ tongue, and he licked his lips, managing a grin at Garrett’s quiet “Fuck.”
As they cleaned up in silence, Anders thought he should probably say something, but Garrett beat him to it. “Talk about happy endings,” he joked, and Anders coughed and then laughed, incredulous and anxious.
“Was that… I mean, I don't know how Izzy runs her business, but…”
“Ah, no,” Garrett said, wincing and looking away. “That had nothing to do with business. I don't make a habit of getting hot guys off. And uh, if you could maybe… Not say anything. I'd like to keep my job.”
Well, now that Anders had sufficiently killed the mood, he wanted to jump in front of traffic again. Instead, he set himself to grabbing his clothes. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insinuate. I've just never… You think I'm hot?”
“Obviously?” Garrett laughed dryly. “And more than hot, you know. You're cute too, and nice and love animals and… well. Nevermind.” He cleared his throat. “I'll let you…”
“Are you kidding? You're a walking lumberjack fantasy, with your fucking voice and Maker, somehow I like your stupid jokes. I can't believe you named your poor dog Buttercup…” Anders suddenly couldn't continue, mouth occupied with Garrett’s as the other man swooped in and kissed him, exploring and eager but gentle.
They broke away for breath and Anders gripped Garrett’s shirt in both hands to keep him close. “We did this backwards.”
“I agree. Dinner? “ Garrett asked, arms sliding around Anders waist. “I'm out at 6.” He glanced at the clock on the wall and snorted. “Nevermind, I’m out thirty minutes ago. Your hour turned into two.”
“Well, I had a lot of tension to get out.” Anders smiled, still lightheaded from the ordeal, and maybe also from the way Garrett looked at him. “Think I'm going to be sore in the morning, though.”
And Garrett chuckled, beard rubbing against Anders jaw; he couldn't wait to see what it felt like against the rest of his body. “Might be able to help you out with that.”
Anders was going to kiss Isabela.