Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/240506.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Dragon_Age, Dragon_Age_II, Dragon_Age_(Video_Games)
  Relationship:
      Bethany_Hawke/Carver_Hawke, Bethany_Hawke/Hawke_Male
  Character:
      Bethany_Hawke, Carver_Hawke, Male_Hawke, Male_Rogue_Hawke
  Additional Tags:
      Porn, Plot_What_Plot, Double_Penetration, Threesome_-_F/M/M, Sibling
      Incest, Kink_Meme, Dragon_Age_Kink_Meme, pre-game
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-08-10 Words: 1850
****** In Brothers’ Arms ******
by persephone_(pda)
Summary
     From a kmeme_prompt: ”Bethany gets DP'd by her brothers."
Notes
     Underage = Bethany and Carver are 15.
Tree leaves danced above their heads in the gentle summer breeze, their
fluttering movement blocking out the worst of the afternoon sun that warmed the
land around Lothering. The morning had dawned bright and mild, and Garrett had
declared it the perfect day for a picnic, a chance to shake off the bleak mood
that had permeated the house since Father’s death a few weeks before. Carver
had managed to cajole Bethany into agreement, but no amount of insistence would
move Mother. She looked at the three of them wistfully and said, “Go off and
enjoy the day, my children. I prefer to stay in.”
Half-curled on her side atop the blanket spread on the ground under the huge
oak tree, Bethany blinked her eyes lazily. It was so nice here, cool in the
shade, the wind riffling her hair, the sound of the lake lapping at the
shoreline, where she could forget for a little while her crushing loss and
uncertain future. Far off, she could occasionally hear the shouts of a farmer
in his field, but it was faint, indistinct. Carver lay on his back on the side
she faced, his laced hands resting across his midsection; Garrett was hidden
from view on her other side, but close enough that he occasionally brushed her
back with his arm when he shifted. They’d had little to say to one another, and
long since talked themselves out. It was good to just be, to enjoy for a time
doing nothing. It was a time that would end soon.
Carver rolled to his side, facing her, and she smiled at him. Her twin. They
were so different, but would always share that bond, that closeness. She could
tell by the look he gave her that he’d sensed her melancholy, and he stretched
out his hand to cup her face, his thumb brushing against the cheekbone.
Wordlessly he leaned forward to kiss her, just long enough to nudge it past
filial. It wasn’t the first time, but it was the first time he’d done it with
Garrett present, and she shivered in reaction. Taking it as encouragement, he
edged closer and did it again, holding it until she felt his hand trembling.
“What are you doing?” Garrett asked sleepily.
“Nothing,” Carver replied, and Bethany noted his lips were rosier than normal.
She smiled impishly. “Carver’s kissing me.”
“Bethany!” Carver hissed, drawing his hand back.
“What?”
Garrett interrupted. “Why is Carver kissing you?”
He didn’t sound angry, rather intrigued, so she answered, “Because I like it?
He’s been teaching me how to kiss, in case one day...” She trailed off when
sadness washed over her. That one day she might be as fortunate as Father had
been to find Mother, willing to live with an apostate mage, fleeing the
templars. Maybe she could hide it from whomever she found who would fall in
love with her, but could she risk telling anyone? If she guessed wrong, they
might turn her in. But she didn’t have to worry about that with Carver. He knew
already.
As did Garrett, for that matter. His hand closed on her shoulder. “Poor
Bethany,” he murmured, stroking her upper arm. There was the sound of his
moving, and his warmth pressed into her back.
Carver’s eyes flashed with annoyance, a sight Bethany was long familiar with.
His jealousy of Garrett was legion. Before he could withdraw, she slid her hand
behind his neck and pulled him into her mouth. Garrett’s breath caught, and his
motion turned languid, his hand skimming off her shoulder to her side,
following the dip in her waist to her hip.
Things took on a dream-like surreality, one part languorous, one part intense,
as she was carried away by a wave of lust. Carver, inexperienced and eager,
exploring her mouth with her tongue, his hand curved around her ribs, trying to
avoid Garrett unsuccessfully. Garrett was caressing her unhurriedly, trailing
down her thigh and then back up over her arse, around her waist and across her
belly, his hand splayed out making lazy circles. He pressed a curious lump into
the small of her back and she wondered what it was. She focused on Carver,
though, dear Carver, who had pulled away to pluck at the laces of her blouse,
eyes flicking back and forth from that to her face, searching for disapproval
that didn’t come. His hand swept under the edge of the shirt, loosening the tie
to spread the neckline wide, then drew it down so he could look at her breasts.
It was nothing he hadn’t seen before, they’d seen each other naked for as long
as she could remember, but there was a different feel to the avidity with which
he drank her in now, his lips damp and parted, his breathing loud through his
nose. Tentatively, as if she might break, he pressed fingertips to the lush
curve, grazing around it before he thumbed the pinkish nipple. It contracted,
hardened, and the arousal that burst from it blazed down to coalesce between
her thighs. Garrett’s hand tightened around her middle, fitting himself snugly
against her backside, and he dropped a kiss on her shoulder that turned wet
when he began tonguing her skin, stubble from the beard he was growing a
rasping counterpoint to the softness.
A soft cry escaped her when Carver’s mouth closed on her breast, suckling it
hotly, and there was an answering burst of damp lower. She was enveloped,
cocooned, between the strong, active bodies of her brothers, one a man, the
other still growing into his frame, feeling protected and safe for the first
time in weeks. Garrett began untying her bodice with practiced gestures, then
lowered to the fastener of her skirt, tugging it open. Of its own volition, her
body bowed back into Garrett, undulating forward against Carver, and he pressed
himself in closer, so that she could feel a hardness at his groin as well. She
buried her hand in his hair, feeling the strands like silk run through her
fingers and he groaned into her chest.
“Sweet sister,” Garrett crooned into her ear, his hand slipping beneath the
waistband of her skirt to patter over her smalls. “Will you open your flower?”
Unabashedly, she lifted her knee as he asked, to have Carver’s leg slip
between. Garrett’s touch teased as he skimmed up to find the edge of her
smallclothes and then under, and she felt a new freshet of moisture when his
fingers, always clever, wormed into her slit and found a spot there that made
her gasp for the explosions it set off. Her hips moved away then into the
touch, seeking it, and Garrett’s hips rode the motion, exhaling with a rattle
against her neck. Undoubtedly feeling left out, Carver dropped his hand down to
follow Garrett’s, until her small clothes were being pushed down her legs,
exposing her sex to their hands, and she felt both of them exploring the cleft.
“Oh,” she intoned in surprise, “oh. Oh, Maker.”
Garrett’s hand pulled out, to her dismay but Carver’s apparent delight. He
began touching her all over, finding the well and putting a finger in, then
back to the pearl, circling it. But Garrett wasn’t done, simply shifting
attention, as he peeled himself away from her back in order to lift her skirts
to her waist and pull at her smalls from behind. Gleaning his intent, she
lifted her hips from the blanket, eliciting a moan from Carver and an answering
shudder of pleasure from her at the new quality of pleasure from his hand, and
Garrett discarded the garment. He didn’t quite fit himself back to her, only
his broad chest pressing against her shoulder blades, to leave her arse
accessible for the fingers he inserted between the cheeks, still slick with her
juices. She made another “oh” when he touched the hole there and slid in a
fingertip, then a squeak when he began working it loose. Carver came off her
breast in a wet pop, and re-claimed her mouth while he fumbled with his
breeches.
“What are you doing, Garrett?” she asked, voice velvet with longing even in her
own ears.
His voice was guttural. “Watch,” he promised.
“Bethany,” Carver pleaded. He’d pulled down his pants to expose his cock, hard
and purplish-red, curving up from his body as she’d never seen it before. With
fascination, she put her hand on it and he yelped, the sound turning into a
puppyish whimper as she dragged her fingertips down it to the root then back up
to the tip to the glistening liquid oozing from it. “Don’t,” he begged. “I’ll
come.” Indolently, she rucked the front of her skirts up to match the back,
bunching them around her waist, sighing as a second of Garrett’s finger joined
the first. She was no sheltered girl, unknowledgeable of rutting, even if she’d
never been with a man. She knew what it was, and where it went, and she hooked
a calf around Carver’s legs, drawing him in. He was shaking with need, a sob
escaping him, when he positioned himself between her thighs, found the hole,
and began easing in. She wished he would go faster, the muscles beginning to
contract in smooth waves, but there was a tightness there that he seemed unable
to pass. “Forgive me,” he said, his voice pitched high, and he thrust hard. She
felt a sharp pain, as if something broke, but then he was filling her, and the
pain subsided under the euphoria.
He was moving, thrusting in an out of her with increasing speed and her insides
were dissolving in the heat. And just when she thought she would melt, that she
couldn’t bear any more, something broad replaced Garrett’s fingers in her arse,
and she felt fullness inching into her from behind.
Decorum shattered and fell away. She bucked, riding into Carver’s impalement,
throaty cries piercing the afternoon stillness. Full and full, they were moving
in an out of her, their deep, masculine groans resonating in her ears, in her
bones. A staccato moan came from Carver and she felt molten liquid jet into
her, that she milked from him in powerful crescendo. He was still inside her,
still hard, when Garrett’s arm snaked around to find her clit and rubbed it
firmly, making her thrash with abandon at the exquisite sensation. She peaked,
gave a throaty shout, and spasms overcame her, convulsing in their arms. A
moment later, she felt Garrett go rigid and a sticky feeling in her crack, but
it was of distant notice.
She lay on the blanket, utter lassitude filling her to the brim. The breeze
dried the sheen of sweat and cooled her skin. Carver and Garrett seemed equally
drained, content to remain where they lay outside of pulling out from her. She
tipped her chin down to touch her forehead to Carver’s jaw, and he leaned into
it, brushing a kiss across it.
They didn’t speak, didn’t move, laying curled together like puppies until the
sun began to set behind the horizon.
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