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The boy doesn't speak. He keeps his mouth shut and his eyes fixed firmly on the ground more often than not. He runs away, desperately trying to find a way out of the Circle that is now his home. He doesn't want it to be his home. He misses his mother. He misses her soft voice and the songs she used to sing as she held him in her arms. He misses the farm, the animals, even though he used to complain about taking care of them.
He misses the sun. He misses the rain. He even misses his father despite the fact that he's the reason they'll never see each other again. There are many things he misses about the outside world, things he'd do anything to have again.
Instead, he's trapped. Trapped in a tower with no permanent way out. Only solid walls and the deep yearning for more, for the gentle touch he used to know.
The touches he receives now are far from gentle.
A gauntleted hand tangles in his hair, yanking his head back so forcefully that it pulls his mouth off of the cock he's supposed to be sucking on. It hurts, the metal snagging in his hair and tugging several strands from his head. He flinches, lips parted in a gasp that's a mix of surprise and pain.
"Hey!" The templar that was using his mouth growls out the word like a swear. "Who said you could stop sucking, brat?"
The boy doesn't bother pointing out that it wasn't his fault. He just forces his head forward so he can fit the cock inside of his mouth once again, suckling at the head in apology. His jaw strains from the effort of keeping his mouth open around the thick length, but he ignores it. He knows this will be easier if he just plays along.
The templar who tugged on his hair is buried in his cunt, the hand not tangled in the boy's strawberry-blond locks is gripping his small hip hard enough to cut into the skin and more than hard enough to bruise. The boy will be feeling the affects of tonight long after he's been healed.
"Fuck, that's nice. Good little mage slut," the templar purrs, his cock stretching the boy's walls to the point of discomfort.
The boy is so small, even for his age. He isn't meant to take an adult cock, not like this. Never like this.
Before the tower, the boy had never so much as seen a cock. It isn't as though he has one of his own and he hadn't yet reached a time in his life where sex was something that occurred to him in any meaningful way. The tower changed all of that extremely quickly.
"Knew she had the best damn mouth in Kinloch, but Andraste, is it good," the templar using his mouth mutters as he pushes himself further past the boy's lips, burying himself far enough into his throat that the boy gags.
The boy's eyes water and he has to fight the instinct to pull away, focusing on breathing through his nose. His tongue is overwhelmed by the taste of salt and sweat, but he pushes forward, bobbing his head and putting his tongue to good use. His throat hurts, abused as it is by the cock forcing its way inside, but he moves with the thrusts and rides it out, tonguing at the spot just below the head.
"Keep her mouth all you want," the templar in his cunt says. "I'll gladly take the bitch's cunt. Or her ass." The hand gripping the boy's hip moves to slap his ass, earning a choked off moan of surprise.
The gauntlets are quickly at his hips again as the templar pulls out of his cunt so he can press against his other hole. The boy squeezes his eyes shut tight and focuses on his breathing despite how difficult it is with a templar's pubic hair clogging up his nose. He's thankful to the older apprentice who fucked his ass earlier today, using a spell to ease the way. He knows this templar won't be so kind.
Sure enough, the templar presses and presses until he rams the head of his cock into the boy's tight ass and it hurts, but the boy knows it would be so much worse without any preparation at all. The boy chokes on a scream because he knows it'll be muffled by the cock in his mouth and the vibrations might get the templars off even faster. Please, let it get them off faster, let this be over.
The templar inside of his ass groans while the templar in his mouth laughs. "Bet she isn't even tight," the one in his mouth mocks. "Whore like this is probably loose from all the fucking she's doing."
The boy doesn't correct him, can't correct him. There's nothing to correct anyway. Tears slip down his cheeks and he hums around the templar's cock, pulling back to tease the slit with his tongue. The laughing abruptly cuts off into a moan and the boy feels something akin to pride.
After that, there's less talking. There's just the sensation of being full, so full, as the boy is filled at both ends. His cunt is wet, which does nothing to ease the burn in his ass. His jaw is sore and tired and his eyes won't stop leaking tears. His hair is pulled and his ass is slapped and he just wants it all to be over, so he does his best to earn the ending. He sucks and moans and tastes and ignores the wretched feeling in his gut.
It feels like an eternity before the templar in his ass' rhythm stutters. He snarls and curses and then the boy is filled with warmth, the templar holding him in a facsimile of a lover's embrace. The templar in his mouth pulls out and strokes himself off with a couple of rapid movements and then is painting the boy's face with his spend, leaving the boy feeling sticky and depraved.
The templar behind him pulls out and the boy can feel the remains of what he left behind trickle out of his hole and down his thighs. The gauntleted hands disappear from his hips and the boy falls to the floor, breathing heavily.
He hears the templars adjust their armor before walking away and he just lays there, trying to catch his breath. He feels sore all over, battered and bruised and used. There's only one person he can go to after what he's been through, so he picks himself up and limps towards the classroom of the one person he can trust.
"Anders?" Karl looks up from his desk, his brows knitted together in concern.
All at once, the boy feels safe. He feels whole. Everywhere else, he's just the boy, the pretty little mage slut, the easy mark. But with Karl, he's Anders. He has a name, an identity, something to hold onto. It doesn't matter that he isn't actually from the Anderfels or that the name just serves to remind him of the father who abandoned him; it's something that he gets to have all to himself.
The boy — Anders — opens his mouth before closing it again. He knows what he looks like, with semen dripping down his thighs and his robes torn. He feels small and scared and he just wants Karl to make everything better again.
"Oh, Anders. Come here." Karl rises from behind his desk and strides over to Anders, gathering the boy into his arms. "I've got you."
All at once, Anders feels like he did before he was taken to Kinloch Hold, he feels like a child being wrapped up in his mother's embrace. He feels protected, like nothing bad will ever happen to him again.
Karl kisses the top of his head before his hands reach the bottom of Anders' robes. "The templars won't hurt you," he promises. "Not here."
He pulls the robes up and over Anders' head and Anders lets him. He lets Karl kiss his cheeks and then his lips, parting them easily when Karl's tongue slips between them. Karl doesn't mind that Anders' mouth tastes of another man's cum. He doesn't recoil in disgust or call Anders names. He just kisses him like he means everything in the world.
When Karl pulls back, Anders lets out a small whine, chasing the older man's lips. Karl chuckles and runs a hand through Anders' hair, detangling it with his fingers. The soothing touch is so nice compared to the rough grabbing and pulling that the templars did.
"Do you want to feel good?" Karl asks and Anders can do nothing but nod.
Karl doesn't mind when Anders can't find his words. He doesn't insist that he speak or try to coerce him. He just accepts him as he is and that's all Anders could ever want. So when Karl presses two of his fingers to Anders' lips, the boy parts them easily, dutifully sucking on the digits until they're nice and wet.
Then Karl pulls his fingers away and slides his hand down Anders' lithe body. He presses his fingers into Anders' cunt and it hurts for a moment until Karl is using magic to soothe his abused walls. He fingers him slowly and methodically, rubbing against places that send sparks flying behind Anders' closed eyelids. It feels good. It feels right.
Unlike with the templars, who take and take and take, Karl gives. He gives with only an expectation that the favor is returned. How could Anders ever deny him anything when he goes to such lengths to make him feel so good?
So when Karl slides his fingers out of Anders' cunt, Anders gladly allows him to situate him on his lap. He lifts himself up and lines his hole up with Karl's cock, sinking down on it as soon as Karl's ready. Karl is so big and so perfect and this feels so much better than when the templars are constantly forcing their way inside.
Karl's hands find Anders' hips, pressing over the bruises and cuts left behind by the templar who fucked his ass less than an hour prior. It hurts, but it's a reminder. A reminder that Karl is not a templar, that Anders is safe in his arms.
"Fuck." Karl breathes against Anders' ear. "You feel so good." He kisses at Anders' exposed throat as he rocks his hips up and into him.
Anders rolls his hips and closes his eyes, allowing his thoughts to drift off. He is safe with Karl. Karl won't hurt him. He'll fuck him in a way that feels good and then he'll clean him up and tuck him into bed. He isn't like the templars.
When Karl comes, it's with a quiet hiss as he pushes himself as deep into Anders as he can go. It fills Anders' small body and leaks out of his puffy cunt, dripping down his thighs. And Anders is so tired that he doesn't complain when Karl pulls out and swaps their positions so that Anders is sitting on the chair.
He just moans and whines when Karl fingers the cum back into him, gasping when Karl attaches his lips to his clit so he can get Anders off. Anders' hips jerk and his whole body spasms when he finally reaches his peak, thrusting against Karl's face in an act of desperation.
Once they're done, Anders' body sags against the chair and Karl smiles so warmly at him. He lifts him into his strong arms and carries him back to the apprentice chambers. Anders is half-asleep before they even make it into the hallway.
All he can think to do is say two words as he begins to nod off.
"Thank you."