Chapter Text
“He had dark skin with lines of white tattoos.”
….
“ISABELA!”
“What?”
I waved the ‘study notes’ she had given me as supposed help for my class. “This is one of those famed stories Varric was talking about, isn’t it?”
She shot me an innocent look and resumed disinfecting her jewelry. “You have to read it to find out. I think it’s an excellent study on rabbits, with plenty of information to back my theory.”
—-
-with lines of white tattoos that highlighted his neck and face structure, and the Scot could only allow himself to imagine the pain of the process.
Versus where they went.
Sabastian Veal (very clever, Isabela) was, after all, the son of a church man and had a duty to be an example of a good child. The son of a man of God. Such impure thoughts were not permitted, not matter how much they plagued and tempted him.
He had never seen someone with tattoos like those, and even though his church was against such things, there was a sense of it… fitting him.
Peatrice had introduced him as Venris (really?) and he didn’t look any pleased to be working here of all places. Sabastian wasn’t exactly thrilled to work here either, but his father had wanted him to partake in a job of the other people, in hopes of spreading the good cheer of God.
And Dickwall (I’m almost ready to put this down) was in plenty need of saving.
The two were sent into the back, with Peatrice telling Sabastian to give all the information and details of “the job”. She really took her job a bit too literally, with that snake like glare and the way she wore her hair. Seriously? And tone down the make up, you’re not fooling anyone, and you had told me I looked like a whore, I hope you burn.
The two somehow ended up in the back, probably to go over the protocols or what-not. Sabastian was just chattering away about how easy of a job this was, when Venris suddenly pushed him against the door of the freezer.
“In the name of-“
Venris’ hand went to Sabastian’s neck, silencing almost in an instant as they locked eyes with one another. Not even the passion of a thousand suns could match this, more like the passion of a billion suns could maybe come close. It was like if two Chuck Norris met each other and fell in love right then and there.
Except, it wasn’t love that the Scot was feeling, but a tightening in his suddenly too tight jeans.
He breathed in sharply when Venris leaned up to him, breathing in the scent of sweet peppermint. A breath mint?
He wanted to push him off, or at least look away, because honestly, who in their right mind does this upon meeting someone for the first time?
There were far too many questions bouncing about his head right now, questions that had too much of a… tightening unpleasantness.
No words were traded and Venris didn’t do anything more except stare at him with those piercing eyes. He wetted his lips nervously, ready to move when his arms were pinned down even tighter in those hands.
Hands that almost seared him at their touch.
Wrath of God or wrath of passion?
“You haven’t done anything,” he finally spoke, catching the Scot off guard. “I would have expected someone of your kind to-“
“Wait, my kind?”
He arched a dark eyebrow, and the Scot wondered if that light silvery hair was natural or not. “You’re not Scottish?”
Sabastian rose an eyebrow to counter his eyebrow, like a sexy man’s eyebrow war.
“I am, but what does that-“
“I need you for a bingo.”
“Pardon?”
“Sex bingo.”
——
“Isabela.”
“What now, commander?”
“Sex bingo? Do you really think that’s what they said?”
She carefully dipped a pair of earrings into a bottle of tequila (the best way to disinfect, she claimed, I was pretty sure she just liked taking sips from the bottle). “It’s called fiction, commander.”
“You do know if you’re writing about them, it’s gotta be a least a little in character.”
Isabela sighed, pursing her lips. “Do you know how hard it is to write about that short little guy? I can’t get in his head at all. At least give me credit for church boy.”
——
The redhead stared at him. Of course he knew what it was, but that someone had actually flat out admit it?
“I’m not sleeping with you.”
Fenris Venris smirked. For a man of his height, he had a lot of power behind him, like a stallion, except it took the strongest of humans to ride him.
Or, simply, another stallion to perhaps mount him.
He leaned up to Sabastian’s ear, breathing into it softly. “I’m not all for the rape thing, but I willconvince you, one way or another, B1.”
Sabastian tried giving Fenris Venris this coldest glare despite feeling himself go as red as his hair. “You can try all you want,” he growled, “but you’ll get nothing.”
“Is that a challenge of will?”
“A challenge with God. I’ve taken a vow of celi…” Venris’ hand had somehow appeared at Sabastian’s growing… problem, and even through his jeans it felt like searing pleasure.
No, he meant pain.
It was pain and nowhere near pleasurable, especially when Venris moved his palm in little circles. Far from pleasurable. Nowhere near it. Nowhere… near…
“Celery? Never heard a vow like that.”
“N-No, celi… bacy.” He breathed in sharply, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to recite prayers or hymns or anything to make all these… emotions go down.
“I like challenges, especially impossible ones involving redheads,” Venris purred into his ear, making Sabastian shiver. “The ones with God are particularly my favorite. Do you want to know why, B1?”
“W… why?”
A moan nearly slipped out of him when Venris’ teeth grazed against his sensitive ears. “Because us humans are weak against persistence. We crumble when we can’t take any more, and then we become slaves of passion.”
That voice was like the Heavens, a roll of thunder that made his knees weak and hands clutch the back of the fridge to keep himself up. A rumble in his loins. This was a test of his vows, wasn’t it? His backed up urges had actually manifested itself into this new co-worker in front of him to test him.
“I will not… go back to my old ways,” he hissed.
Venris’ palm pressed harder into him and he dug his nails into the metallic fridge door. Sabastian leaned his head back and Fenris nipped at it. Against his throat, making him try his damnedest to keep his voice down.
“With me, your old ways will be thrown out of the window. I-“
——
“-will rock your vows back to Heaven.”
“Sometimes a stroke of genius just comes to me just like that.”
Although all of this was pretty hard to believe, I knew from watching them at work added with the closet incident, that some of it could be slightly… accurate.
Good God, I won’t be able to look at them the same way again.
“If you really want to do something fun,” Isabela started, closing her jewelry box, “ask either of them about bingo.”
“Why would I ask them something like that?”
“Because, commander, the reaction you’ll get will be priceless, as if that research paper dripped with truth.”
… I had no idea why I believed her.