He adjusts his grip on Aedan's hair, holding him where he is, nuzzled up against his hip. There is something empowering about it, a feeling he tries not to think too hard about; control and submission are fine lines to walk. At least he doesn't have to worry whether or not Aedan finds it acceptable, if the hard bulge against Fenris' foot is any indication.

He continues to rub slowly at his trapped cock, enjoying the feeling despite the urge to do just what has been suggested.

"Is that what you want? Will the Hero of Fereldan submit?" Fenris might be willing to indulge.