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"I cannot stop thinking of you. In fact, I can think of little else. I... Command me to leave, and I shall." Fenris shuffled his feet, not daring to look up at Hawke's face, waiting for the inevitable rejection.
"Notice me not saying anything" she spoke gently, and a delicate fingered hand reached into his field of vision, brushing against his cheek long enough to bring his gaze upwards. Those pale golden eyes, wolf eyes, skimmed over him with a curious expression, as if he was something she had never seen before. He swallowed hard, then let his eyes meet hers, tentatively reached out a gauntleted hand to the black tattoo across her cheek. Her eyes softened, and she pressed into his touch, almost nuzzling his lyrium branded palm. The former tevinter slave stepped closer, and pressed his lips to hers. Somewhere in the breathless fever that followed, he found himself with his back against the wall, her arms braced to either side of his neck, his fingers digging into the soft blood auburn of her hair. And still they kissed, like drowning souls desperate for salvation.
Finally they separated, foreheads pressed tight as they gasped for air. "Fenris... " she whispered, then gasped as he pressed his lips to the pulse point in the wrist so conveniently near his face. " we should go upstairs." She kissed the tip of one pointed ear, watched his dark green eyes flutter. "To my room. Before mother or Bodahn come home and find us in the entry way."
"True." Fenris pushed forward, kissing her deeply again, before allowing her to lead him up the stairs. Amidst, between, and around, more breath stealing kisses, her robes and the top half of his armor hit the floor. The white haired elf sat on the edge of the plush bed, a length of the crimson silk that belted her favorite black robes tangled around his gauntlets as he carefully removed the enchanted metal.
"Wow." She breathed, staring at the maze of swirling lyrium channels and the muscled flesh they were embedded in. "How far do they go?" she asked, eyeing an arching vine that ran along his wiry abdomen, vanishing under the black leather of his leggings.
Fenris pulled back, dropping his gaze and staring at the quiescent blue white lines that had cost him so much pain. "Hawke." He said quietly, his tone somewhere between pleading and warning.
"Lupa." She responded, sitting distractingly unclothed next to him on the bed, her skin porcelain pale next to the black lace of her smallclothes.
"What?" He looked up at her, blinking in confusion.
"It's my first name. Which if we're going to do this, I'd prefer you use. Lupa" She moved a little closer to him on the bed, eyeing his taut muscled torso. "You're whipcord and bone under that armor." She whispered, shaking her head. She started to reach out to the exposed pattern of lyrium brands, and then stopped. "May I?" she asked of the lanky elf now staring at her with a disconcerted look in those malachite green eyes.
"She-wolf?" he asked, almost dryly, seeming to ignore her outstretched hand. "That explains what you named the dog."
"At least you don't translate it the way my brother did whenever I annoyed him especially. That's a bonus." She carefully ran her fingers over the marks on his neck and chin. "Does that hurt or…?"
"Not as such", he responded, torn between flinching back from the unfamiliar sensation of skin to skin contact and enjoying the soft warmth of her hands. Enjoyment slowly won as her hands slid over his shoulders, following the metal patterns and the curves of his muscles.
"Does this?" she asked, a small glimmer of healing magic flickering blue around her fingers as she traced the swirls across his chest. He groaned sharply, and then grabbed her hand when she would have pulled back.
"Not pain… I amnot used to… Don't stop. Please." His earnest gaze sought her face from under the concealing fall of his roughly cut white hair, seeing the look of concern in those golden eyes. "Venhedis" he muttered, then pulled her close, entangling them back in one of those soul burning kisses. She smiled against his lips, then splayed her fingers outward against his chest, and more blue magic spilled across his torso. He could feel it sinking into the brands and the surrounding flesh, soothing lingering aches he had almost forgotten remained, easing the tightness of old scars tissue. It ran along his skin like painless lightning, thrilling across all his nerves, like the stormy magic taste of her mouth, reminding him of the ache that had driven him to her door.
Fenris pulled back from Lupa's mouth, seeking air, and a line of liquid, magic soaked heat ran across the brands under his chin. He shuddered, eyes closing, and she licked a line across his collar bone, pressed her lips to the veins in his throat. Opening his eyes again, he pushed her back against the corner column that supported the canopied drapes of her bed, his hands gliding over her curves, under her breast band. Where the lyrium brands on his palms and fingers touched her bare skin, he could feel the magic that shimmered just under the surface, could feel it reacting with the mystical metal burned into his flesh. It was like fire and ice, lightning sparks without a trace of the pain he had learned to expect from his former master's magic. It was like a storm trying to build inside his body and soul, arcing thru every fiber of his being, it was desire and need and a new hunger wrapped tightly together and coiled in the pit of his stomach. And he wanted more.
With a growl, he claimed her mouth again, as the fragile fabric of her smallclothes tore away with the sudden clench of his fingers. He traced the curves of her chest, wondering at the softness of her skin under his scarred, sword calloused hands.
Lupa moaned, almost whimpering with need as his hands covered her breasts. She could feel the lyrium humming as it came into contact with her magic, feel her power reacting with the living metal in his skin. It was enthralling, deliriously energizing, like being in the center of a gathering storm, and those deep green eyes never wandered from hers, watching her with an single-minded intensity she found nearly as intoxicating as the lyrium taste of his mouth, of his skin. Metallic sweet lyrium and saltsweat, and something else entirely him, something male and feral, subtly dangerous and hintingly familiar. His mouth slid from hers, down her jaw, her neck, as his hands caressed, the lyrium marks beginning to glow softly. His thumbs found her nipples, and her head fell back, mewling as she fought to keep enough focus to keep the core of her magic mostly restrained, to keep a semblance of control. Fenris shifted downward, his lips and tongue replacing his fingers, and loose power swirled to her skin, chasing the lines his fingers and mouth traced.
"You taste like lightning. Like wild places and freedom" He murmured, in a bemused, almost pleasure drugged tone, nuzzling her breasts. His hands slid to her hips, slowly, as if still waiting for rejection. His marks gleamed brighter, flickering blue under his skin. "Lupa," he whispered, licking along the underside of her breast, one finger at the lacy edge of her panties. She arched into him, her fingers carding through the choppy lines of his lyrium bleached hair, and the lacy fabric ripped away as swiftly as her breast band. His hands slid downward, thru the short downy fuzz that covered her mound. One finger slid across her, and her magic poured to the surface again.
Fenris kissed his way down her body, licking along her soft curves, as his fingers parted her, caressing the silken flesh within. She arched into him again, mewling as he found her small nub, rubbing it gently. He hesitated, only to find her hand on his wrist. "You're doing wonderfully. Please, don't stop."
Emboldened, he continued, her juices soaking his fingers. Her magic flooded to the surface, swimming thru his brands. One long finger slipped inside, then another, as he licked the curve of her hips, kissed the soft skin of her inner thigh, as he slid off the bed to get a better angle. His fingers flexed, then withdrew, bracing against her thighs, pushing them wider. And then his mouth found her, his hands keeping her hips flat to the bed as he covered the line of her in long deliberate licks, each swipe delving deeper. Lupa swore something strangled, breathless, and incoherent involving his name and the Maker's, her fingers digging into the velvet top of the quilt. He grinned briefly up at her, then suckled at the nub that made her make such delectable noises. This time he could feel her spasming under his mouth, taste both her and the magic that washed over him, drumming at his senses.
He rose, cupping her face back in his scarred hands to pull her into another kiss. She could taste herself mixed into the lyrium taste of him, and reached for the thin belt at his waist. With a quick flick, she had it undone, shoving the black leather of his pants back over his narrow hips. He pulled back to step out of the leggings, and she froze. The lines of lyrium continued everywhere, swirled down over his hips, vining down his thigh, spiraled over the length of his erect member. Her hands reached out, skimming over his skin with more focused healing energy. " You really do have those brands everywhere. What kind of monster was your magister?" She whispered, one hand sliding back up to his cheek, "I am so sorry."
"I do not need your pity," he snarled, his brands flaring brighter as he pushed at her, shoving her back at the bed. Her magic pulsed under his hands, and she tugged him down on top of her.
"Then I won't give it. Take me instead." She murmured, pressing her lips to his, her hands sliding over his shoulders. He caught her wrists, pinning them above her head.
"My Lupa," he growled, in a softer tone, and leaned down to plunder her mouth as he settled himself above her, and plunged himself deep. A shudder ran along his spine as he felt her surrounding him, like a hot silken vise, tasted the stormy magic of her mouth, sensed her magic flare as his brands pulsed. "Festis bei umo canavarum," he muttered as she moaned into his mouth, rolling her hips up into him. He pulled back slowly, watching those golden wolf eyes, pleasure dazed, try to focus on him. "You will be the death of me. " He thrust back, finding a rhythm in the melding flux that pulsed, magic and lyrium, in the quickening tempo of her panting breaths and his heartbeat. He slid deep, the rhythm growing erratic, and she went over, whimpering his name as she clenched around him, pulling him over the edge with her. They sprawled together, Fenris moving just far enough to pull out and curl around her. "My Lupa," he whispered, one hand stroking her hair as his markings dimmed and they drifted into sleep.
His dreams were strange, full of things he did not know and people he did not recognize. Or rather should recognize, were it not for the ritual that burned away his memories. The towers of Minrathous stood tall in the distance, and a red haired elven girl called him from across a courtyard. Except the name she called wasn't his, was it? He knew her, knew every nuance of the place they stood in, and she called his name as his mother wept, but it wasn't his name. He felt the remembered pain of the lyrium burning into his skin, heard his masters voice speaking. "I'll call him Fenris. My little wolf" and fell back into the darkness, cursing and screaming. It had been his name, who he was before Danarious, the memories taken from him. But what had the name been, what courtyard, what girl? He woke to the dim light of dying embers, curled around his lover, fighting to remember what scraps of his dreams hadn't already escaped him.
Fenris stood by the embers of her hearth, wrapping and unwrapping a length of red silk from his gauntleted wrist. "Was it that bad?" a voice asked sleepily from the nearer edge of the bed.
He looked up, bracing one hand on the mantle as he shook his head. "It was fine," he started, then shook his head again. "No, that is insufficient. It was better than I could have ever dreamed".
Lupa sat up, rubbing the grit from her eyes. " Is it your markings hurting again?" she asked, started to reach out to him.
He pulled back. "It's not that. I began to remember. Flashes, just flashes. Faces, places, things from before."
Those golden eyes lit. "That's wonderful. Maybe we can work on getting more back for you."
"I don't think you realize how upsetting this is! For a moment I could remember everything, and now it's gone again. Just gone. I…I have to go"
"Wait. Please. We… we can work this out." Lupa tried to keep the desperately pleading note out of her voice, and knew she was failing.
"I'm sorry. I'm not ready for this, it's too fast. I… this should never have happened. I feel like such a fool." With one last glance at where she still sat on the rumpled bed, Fenris carefully picked his way out of her room, trying to forget the stricken, almost lost look in her eyes. He didn't look back again, even as he heard the beginnings of a choked sob from behind him.
Down the stairs and through the main room, and there was her dog. The mabari named Wolf, planted firmly in his path, staring at him reproachfully. "Do not look at me like that. It... It is better this way." The dog tilted his head and eyed him curiously. "Because it is. " He carefully reached out to pat the dog, who sighed. "Go convince her she's better off without me, please?" The dog sighed again, then walked ostentatiously around the elf, before bounding up the stairs.
Fenris made it thru Hightown to his own house, locked the door behind him, then fell to his knees on the cobwebbed tiles of the dilapidated mansion he had claimed. She deserved better than him, was better off without him, and he didn't need a mage complicating his life. It was done.
So why did he feel so very empty inside?
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