Marian Hawke lay in her four poster bed staring at the canopy. She was having trouble sleeping and she was not going to drift off any time soon, she could tell. It had been several years since she had dispatched the Arishok, and Knight-Commander Meredith all but ran Kirkwall. She had been named Champion, but she certainly didn't feel like one.

When the nights were quiet like this, her mind roamed and it invariably returned to the night she found her mother, murdered and defiled in a bizarre blood magic ritual. The mage responsible was trying to resurrect his dead wife, and apparently, Leandra fit that particular mold.

She didn't know how she was still going. She knew that she could always count on her friends, but it was really support from the Tevinter fugitive, Fenris that helped her the most. Fenris was an escaped slave who had won his freedom against his former master, the Magister Danarius. Hawke had helped him kill Danarius, and to free him once and for all from the Tevinter Imperium. Fenris was living in Danarius' abandoned mansion in Hightown, and it wasn't far from her estate. She wondered what the elf was up to now.

No one had really known, save for Varric, that she and Fenris had been involved romantically. She couldn't really call it a romantic relationship, more like they had rutted once. Fenris had explained that his lyrium-infused tattoos made it painful to pursue a physical relationship, and had not brought it up again to Hawke. She did not want to force the issue, but she couldn't deny her feelings for him either. She wasn't sure if she loved him, exactly, but she knew that she couldn't get him out of her thoughts.

After she had laid her mother's body to rest, Fenris had stopped by her estate to offer his condolences. She wanted him to stay, to comfort her, but she couldn't bring herself to ask him to stay the night. Now, she spent most nights alone, or out drinking at the Hanged Man.

After several more minutes of laying there, tossing and turning, trying to shut off her mind and get some sleep, Hawke finally gave it up. She got out of bed, dressed, and decided to head off into the night.

She liked Kirkwall nights. If there weren't groups of bandits out, it was a nice stroll. If there were ne'er do wells, it was a nice barbeque. Hawke loved to roast baddies with her fireballs. It made her laugh when they thought they could take her on. She guessed that she looked quite helpless, a lone noblewoman wandering around after dark, but she was an accomplished mage. A mage living outside of the Circle of Magi. An apostate. Growing up in Lothering, she never had to worry much about being an apostate. Her father had taught her and her sister Bethany how to control their powers, how to conceal them. The Templars in Lothering were a lot more lax too. As long as one wasn't burning down the village or sacrificing children for blood magic rituals, they were content to live and let live. The Blight changed all of that in Fereldan, and in Kirkwall, the Templars were much more vigilent and strict. They also seemed to be a lot more corrupt and paranoid, but there was also good reason. It seemed like Kirkwall was a hotbed for maleficar activity.

Personally, Hawke had never seen the appeal of blood magic. Even if it didn't lead to deals with demons or human sacrifices, it was dangerous enough. There was so much untapped potential with blood and so much raw power that mages did not understand, it was better to leave it alone than to risk one's life or sanity to it. Fire, on the other hand, now that was what got Hawke all tingly. She just loved being able to start a campfire without any sort of trouble at all.

Hawke had been wandering around Hightown aimlessly and she had found herself in front of Fenris' place. She considered knocking and going in to visit, but she wasn't sure what she would say, or if he was even home. She had heard Isabela talking to Anders about how much she was wanting to sleep with the elf, and Hawke couldn't help but feel a little jealous. She knew she shouldn't take anything Isabela says seriously, as she knew the pirate wench just liked to sleep with as many people as possible and nothing serious ever came about it. Hawke herself wasn't exactly short of suitors either. Many noblemen (and some noblewomen) sent favors and invites to her, trying to vie for her attention.

It's not that she wasn't interested, it was… exactly that. She just wasn't interested in being part of the elite. She much preferred to get dirty, to go on adventures, to roll around in her silken sheets with a certain broody elf.

She scowled, eyebrows knitted together. This wasn't helping. She could either go and talk to Fenris and mention her feelings, or she could go home and get some sleep. She walked up to his door and lifted her hand to knock, pausing hesitantly. "Maker's breath," she mumbled. "Just knock, Marian. Just knock."

Marian Hawke did not knock that night. Instead, she went to the Hanged Man to meet up with her favorite dwarf and to drink so much that her eyes crossed and she could mistake him for a genlock.

Walking into the filthy, smelly pub, she headed to Varric's room. Why he stayed here was anyone's guess, but the dwarf spent all of his spare time here, either penning his stories or managing his ever-growing spy network.

"Hawke, what a friendly surprise!" Varric said, gesturing with open arms. "Come, sit down, I was just about to get a pint. Shall I get one for you, O Champion?" He motioned to the serving girl and ordered two pints as Hawke sat down. "Care for a game of Wicked Grace? I think I finally got Daisy to remember all the rules," he chuckled. "Of course, she is still terrible at remembering not to tell you her hand, but hey, it just makes winning that much easier."

"Varric, I… have a problem. And I need your help." Hawke couldn't believe what she had just said. The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop herself, and she hadn't even started drinking. Varric raised an eyebrow and put his hands together. Hawke rarely outright asked for help, usually she just barrelled her way through her problems and dragged the sarcastic dwarf along for the ride. "What's wrong, you seem to be a little out of sorts. Is Hightown too boring for you?"

She shifted uncomfortably in the hard wooden chair. It's not like the Hanged Man invested in nice chairs, but this one was particularly hard, and it seemed to be made of nothing but splinters. She wondered how long she would be pulling those out of her backside. "I… it's nothing." she finished lamely. Varric would just make fun of her, and even though most days she could handle anything he dished out, tonight just wasn't one of those nights. "Shit, Hawke…" the dwarf said slowly. "It's something serious, isn't it?" He rubbed his temples. He often wondered what "serious" meant to a person like Hawke, who hunted groups of blood mages and giant spiders for fun.

"I… Remember a few years ago, when I told you about Fenris?" Hawke started, uneasily. "About how he had never been with anyone before and we slept...together…?" Varric wrinkled his nose in mock disgust. "Hawke, you know I don't want to hear about any of your romps with elves. Now if you had been with a dwarf, that is another matter entirely. That would make for a good story." She shifted, crossing her arms across her chest. "I'm serious. I've been trying to move past him-it, for a few years now. And I can't." She laughed, mocking herself, "Finally found a problem the Champion of Kirkwall couldn't fix, and it had nothing to do with mages or Templars."

Varric sat in silence for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. He knew that Hawke had cared deeply for the tattooed elf, even if she had never shown any inclination to Fenris, or anyone else for that matter. He had kept tabs on Fenris, too. He knew quite a few things about their mutual friend that he hadn't exactly mentioned to Hawke, and now he was pondering telling her. Being friends with one's charges made a pretty poor spymaster, the dwarf was willing to admit to no one but himself. It certainly gave him a lot of headaches.

"Listen, Hawke. I think I know what your problem is. You just need to get out a little more, and try to relax a little. Being cooped up in that fancy house of yours only drives you crazy."

"I don't see how this helps me," Hawke said shortly. "And here I thought I could at least ask you, Varric, for your help for once. I just don't think-" Varric cut her off, smiling and spreading his arms wide. "That's right, Hawke, you don't think! I know you got a thing for the broody elf, and I have been keeping tabs on him, in case there was any interested parties about. I keep the Coterie off of him, I keep the tax collectors off of him, and so far, I've kept Isabela off of him, and that has been no easy task." He chuckled to himself, thinking of all the times he had Fenris suddenly 'run an errand for him' or introduce Isabela to a strapping young man, who just happened to be all oiled up and glistening. It took a lot of effort-and coin- but Varric was not the type to let such trivial things stand in his way.

"I know you're nervous, I don't know why you're nervous, but I know you are. You're the Champion of Kirkwall, any number of men are lining up down the street to hop between the sheets with you." Varric patted his friend on the shoulder. "If it helps you out, I can go with you to his place and I can help get the ball rolling between you two."

Hawke raised an eyebrow. "What, like set out some wine and some cheese and force conversation between the two of us? That won't be awkward at all!" She smiled. Despite her best attempts to stay upset, Varric had a way of bringing out her sense of humor and sarcasm. "I suppose I will just have to bring some snacks, right? Do you want me to bring the Antivan fish crackers, I hear it's Fenris' favorite." She got up and Varric walked to the entrance of the pub with her. "Don't worry, I won't force you to make awkward conversation, you do that well enough on your own that you don't need any of my help anyway. I got a few ideas on how to make things go well for you, and I think you should just follow my lead, for once."

The pair walked through Lowtown and up the bridge to Hightown, stopping only for a moment before Varric knocked on the door to the elf's acquired mansion. "Listen, ah, Varric.." Hawke began, but the dwarf interrupted her. "No, not a word, Hawke. I know. I don't like it when you get mushy on me, so let's just leave it. This is what friends do. They sometimes push." Hawke paused for a moment, and smiled. She remembered that she had said the same thing to Aveline, to help her friend get with guardsman Donnic. They had been married for a while now, and it was good to see Aveline so happy.

Varric knocked, and after a moment the door opened, Fenris standing there. His silver-white hair caught in the reflection of the moonlight and his large, green eyes seemed surprised. "Varric, Hawke! What are you doing here, at this hour? Is something wrong?" His eyes narrowed and he reached next to the doorway, a moment later the pair could see that he had picked up his two handed axe, obviously ready for trouble. Hawke wondered if he lived his whole life like this now, constantly worried that there was danger. As she thought about it more logically, she could see, yes he did live like this. All of her companions did, she knew, because she was a "bit like the eye of a hurricane" as Aveline had called her. The center of a storm. All seemed to get caught up in it, and it was better to be prepared than not. She also thought about all the nights that she had slept with her mage staff in the bed next to her, one hand wrapped firmly round the shaft, ready at a moment's notice.

"Woah, easy there, elf. Just here for a friendly round of cards." Varric said, winking at Hawke. "Thought you could use a little company because you keep yourself cooped up in here too much and I hardly ever see you at the pub."

"All right, come in," said Fenris, though not entirely convinced. He wasn't looking at Varric. He knew the stout companion could weasel his way out of, or into, anything, given his reputation as a storyteller. He was focused on Hawke. She seemed oddly fidgety, like she didn't quite know what to do with her hands. He dropped his gaze, suddenly remembering that she actually did know what to do with her hands, and she did it quite well. "Follow me," he waved for the two to follow into Danarius' estate. He hadn't bothered to keep up with the place, and it was falling into disrepair. It wasn't that he lacked the coin, he just didn't see the need. He wasn't legally residing here anyway, so putting work into it would just draw attention to himself, which was the last thing that he wanted. He may have been free from Danarius, finally, when he ripped the bastard's heart out through his chest, but he felt that he would never be free from the Tevinter Imperium. Some magister would always want to claim more power, and his tattoos made him a prime target. Fenris scowled. He wondered if he would ever be truly at peace.

They made their way to the study, where there was already a card table set up. Apparently Varric visited a lot, thought Hawke, since the dwarf was the only one she knew who could convince anyone to play a game of Wicked Grace. Hawke sat down, and Varric started shuffling the cards, all while telling Fenris to fetch them some wine. The elf disappeared for a moment, and then coming back with a few bottles. Hawke was impressed, some of this wine was expensive, she didn't think Fenris had become that much of a snob over the years, but apparently he had.

"You might as well hand over your coin purses now," Varric smiled cheekily. "I would hate to have to humiliate you." He dealt the cards and the game begun. After several hands, in which Hawke was down about three sovereigns, and feeling a lot more relaxed, she couldn't help but realize that this was the first time in a long time that she was having fun, genuinely. Sure, nothing beat killing bandits and plundering the Deep Roads for riches, but it was nice to just sit down and relax. The wine helped, it was potent and left her feeling tingly all over.

"Watch it, Hawke," Varric said warningly. "You'll end up setting the table on fire if you keep that up." She looked down and laughed. "Oh, I wondered why it was getting so warm in here!" Her fingers were glowing red with fire magic, leaving small scorch marks onto the wooden table. "This is why I don't drink!" She shook her fingers and the fire faded.

"You owe me a new table, Hawke," Fenris smirked. "This one was a family heirloom. Whose family, I cannot say, but it surely belonged to someone." Varric could see that things were going smoothly, provided that Hawke didn't actually set the house on fire. It was time to make his exit and to let these two hopeless romantics fall in love. Or at least into the bed. Varric hoped it was at least a clean bed.

"Well, kiddoes, this has been a blast. However, I need to meet one of my contacts back in Lowtown, so I need to get going." Hawke whipped her head around. "What? You can't… you can't be serious?" She felt her heart racing already. Damn it, she thought. Hold it together.

Fenris took no notice of Hawke's outburst, or so it would seem, and he told Varric to have a good night, and to try not to get robbed by the Coterie. "That's why I always keep Bianca close," the dwarf winked, and patted his crossbow on the hilt lovingly. He turned to leave and smiled to himself, knowing that his work was done. Or at least he hoped so, he didn't want to have to do this every week. He had more important things to do, like work on his latest crime serial, Hard in Hightown. He whistled to himself, pleased at his innocuous little set up, because what Hawke didn't know, couldn't hurt her… much.

Finally, Fenris was alone with Hawke. He had been trying to get alone with her for months now, but it never seemed to be an appropriate time. He disliked the Hawke estate, simply because he found it too lavish for his tastes, or so he told anyone who asked. Really, he just hated being there and seeing so many nobles come and go, trying to get Hawke to settle down. It frustrated him, knowing that there were better men for her to be with, while he was doomed to watch from the sidelines. He knew it was his fault. He never told Hawke how much she meant to him, never said that he wanted to still be with her. When they had first slept together, all those years ago, he said that his tattoos had caused him great pain. Her very touch ignited memories of the lyrium being branded in his skin. It was true, it did cause him pain, but there was more to it as well. Hawke was a mage, and he had spent his whole life as a slave to a magister of the Imperium, seen what power could corrupt, and he was afraid that Hawke would turn out just the same way.

Try as he might, he could not forget her touch. It wasn't just a metaphor, or a rose-colored memory. The marks branded on his flesh gave him the ability of perfect memory recall. He could honestly feel her touch on him now, as he had felt it then. He could recall every gentle caress, every kiss, every lick. He could recall every death he had caused as well, every heart he had crushed or neck he had broken, but the memories of being with Hawke were his favorite to revisit, and he did so often. It was no wonder, or surprise even, that Varric had approached the elf several months ago and told him that Hawke still had feelings for Fenris. At first he was surprised, but he had long learned to trust that the dwarf's information was usually accurate. When he had asked what that meant, all Varric said was "You'll have to leave it up to Hawke," and shrugging.

When the two of them had shown up at his house tonight, Fenris had a feeling that Hawke had finally decided to stop waiting, but he couldn't be sure. Humans were still a mystery to him, and Hawke even more so. He looked at her now, the way that her form was silhoutted against the soft candle light, how it made her blue eyes sparkle. Her raven hair partly obscured her face and it took everything he had to not brush it out of her eyes. He kept staring at her lush lips, longing to feel them on his again.

Hawke downed the rest of her goblet of wine. She shuddered, squinting her eyes as she swallowed the tart, dry wine. Varric could have warned her that this was his plan, so that she was not caught off-guard. No, that would have been too easy, she thought, and she knew that the dwarf loved to watch her squirm in uncomfortable situations. She wouldn't put it past him if he didn't actually have a meeting with any contact, and if this hadn't been planned from the start. Sometimes that dwarf was too much of a busybody and liked to stick his large nose in her business. She looked up, taking her eyes off of her wine goblet and caught Fenris staring at her. She blushed and stammered. "Well, it's probably late." Probably late? That was almost as clever as "it's a nice night for an evening." and right up there with "how do you feel about swords?" Maker's breath, she was doing a good job of looking incredibly stupid. She stood up to leave, and thanked Fenris for having her over and for the wine. "Next time though, I think I prefer the hard stuff." She made her way to the door and Fenris followed her. "I haven't lost that much coin since I bet Anders that I could get Carver to take on that whole gang of Tal-Vashoth. Of course he wouldn't take them on, complaining like always that he always has to do all the hard work! Just like my little brother, so eager to prove himself up until he has the chance to do it."

She knew she was rambling on, but she couldn't stop herself. It was if she had cast a spell of haste on her lips and they were running at a mile a minute, she didn't even feel that way about Carver, not really. The siblings didn't get along, even less so since Mother had passed away. Carver was a Grey Warden and rarely sent any letters to Hawke, but she didn't mind. The less she knew about what he was doing, the better. It was too easy for her to worry, to want to interfere to keep him safe, which is exactly what caused him to resent her so much.

Fenris chuckled softly, a small smile creeping across his face. Hawke was beautiful, and he found that she was even more so when she was being awkward. He felt like he was truly seeing her in these moments, not just the image of the impressive Champion, who seemed to do no wrong. He furrowed his brow in sudden thought. If she left now, this evening was not what he had intended, but it was still a good start. How was he going to tell her how he felt? Each passing day made it more difficult, more likely that she had moved on and he was to be left here, alone.

Hawke couldn't take her eyes off of him. His silver hair, his dark eyebrows, those luminous green eyes. She loved the curve of his lips, his strong jawline, how his lyrium tattoos traveled down his chin to his neck. She knew where the rest of those markings went, and she felt a tingle of excitement stirring in her as she recalled tracing them with her tongue. She knew why Danarius had kept Fenris as a slave, his tattoos infused with lyrium could be awakened just at a touch, and when she had slept with him, she felt power stirring inside of her as well as pleasure. It frightened and excited her. She didn't dare mention it to anyone, least of all Fenris. She knew that he would be horrified and it would push him away further. His eyes met hers and she made a split decision. Perhaps it was the wine, perhaps it was just being in close proximity to him, but Hawke lunged, and she captured his mouth with hers.

Fenris was startled, her kiss was so sudden and so fierce. She had bit his lip, and drew blood. He didn't care though, his mouth yielding to hers and he pressed her against his door, hands cupping her face as her tongue slid across his. He felt his manhood stirring in his trousers as he returned her kiss, his desperation showing. Hawke ran her fingers through his hair and grabbed hold, tightly, plunging her tongue in his mouth. She had waited too long-years- to kiss him again and she was not going to let him get away.

His hands traveled down her body, feeling her curves through her fine tunic. The soft fabric yielding to his touch and he could feel her breasts, fingers tracing the curve of them, before working down to her slim waist. Hawke moaned, his touch setting her skin on fire, not literally of course, but if he kept this up, it might happen. She hungered for him, to feel his naked skin pressed against hers, the two of them writhing together. She could feel her sex awakening, and she longed to feel him plunge into her again. And again. And again.

Fenris broke the kiss, pushing her dark hair away from her face. "I have waited too long to do that," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a growl to it, one that suggested that he had more planned for the mage, and she was shivering in anticipation. She could see the hunger and lust in his eyes, and knew that it mirrored her own. She leaned in and kissed him again, softly on the lips. "Fenris, there is something that I have to tell you," she said quietly. It was now or never, Marian, she told herself. "I want...you to come over for dinner." What? Did that seriously just come out of her mouth? What was she thinking? Surely he was going to turn her out on her ass now, just for being a fool.

The elf chuckled. "Only if it is you on the menu, then perhaps I can be persuaded." He loved that she was so flustered and out of her comfort zone. It was strange, with all of her experience with other men, and he only with her, that he should be the calm one and she the one who was flustered. He took it as a compliment, and kissed her again, pulling her into his arms.

"Hawke, I should have never left that night," he said breathlessly as he broke the kiss. "I have regretted it every day, and I intend to make up for lost time. That is, if you will let me." He shrugged sheepishly. "Perhaps there is another suitor that you have."

Marian blushed. "Is it getting warm in here? Did I set something on fire accidentally?" she joked, feeling uncomfortable. She had waited so many years for him to say those words, that he still wanted her and needed her and now it was down to her to tell him how she really felt. She was just going to have to take a leap of faith. After all, it's only by falling that one knows if one can fly. "Fenris, I love you." she blurted out, squeezing her eyes shut, so she didn't have to see the reaction on his face. "I fell in love with you years ago and have not been able to get you out of my mind since, and it drives me absolutely mad because I know that you are worried about what I am." She risked a peek at his face, and was surprised to see that he was smiling.

The smile grew wider, from ear to pointy ear, and soon he was laughing. "Hawke, I am a former slave from Tevinter, a fugitive for the rest of my life, not to mention an elf. You are the most powerful woman in Kirkwall, and that has nothing to do with your magic abilities. It is your influence and leadership that have people flocking to you and looking up to you. I have always be in awe and respected you for that, regardless of the fact you can throw out the odd fireball now and then." He paused. "It is true," he said softly in her ear, "that magic is dangerous, but then again, I've been in danger my whole life, and yet this is the first time I have welcomed it." He nibbled down her neck as his hands slid up her sides. "I love you too, Marian." It was the first time that he had used her name. It sent waves of pleasure through her. She couldn't hold back any longer. She wanted him naked five minutes ago, and she was going to have her way.

"I can't promise I won't hurt you," she said in between kisses and licks. "If it is painful for us to be...intimate, I don't want to cause you any pain. But tonight, elf boy, you're just going to have to deal with it."

"As you say, Serah Hawke," the elf laughed. He enjoyed her teases and her advances. She was an aggressive woman in the best of times, and right now she was an unstoppable force. Her hands found the buckles holding his dark armor on, and deftly unclasped them, His chest was bare before her and she could see all of his silver-blue tattoos running down his chest and across his flat stomach. She traced them with her finger and they hummed slightly. She could hear the lyrium. It wasn't unusual that she could hear it, she didn't tell him this but she could always hear when he was close by. She found the sound comforting usually, but right now it just made her hungry. She ran the tip of her tongue along his neck, licking the markings and tasting the power held within. It stirred all of her senses and heightened her awareness. It was like drinking a lyrium potion, powerful and intoxicating. Addictive.

She nibbled her way down his chest and her hands worked on his trousers. She glanced at him, fluttering her sooty eyelashes, to see how he was enjoying it. The moans escaping from his lips were satisfactory and gave her permission enough to keep going. She rubbed his stiff bulge through the fabric, feeling it throbbing under her fingers. She could snap her fingers and his pants would fall off at her whim if she desired, but she preferred to do this manually, wrestling with the tight fabric. "I honeslty don't understand how these are both pants and shoes," she muttered.

Fenris stifled a laugh. "I don't understand humans and their obsession with shoes. Honestly, what does a satin shoe even do? It does not give any sort of protection, and it is an exorbitant waste of good coin." He would have said more, but Hawke had finally wrested his trousers to his knees and was busy tending to his manhood. She wrapped her fingers around the stiff base of his member and her lips on the swollen helmet. Precum oozed out of his cock, and her tongue deftly lapped it up, not missing a single drop. She swirled her tongue around the tip, pausing every now and then to gauge his reaction. The first time that they had slept together, there was not much foreplay. Hawke had been selfish that night, and did not take his virginity gently. She had been rough and aggressive, and had thought perhaps this was the reason he had stayed away. This time, however, she was pacing herself, forcing herself to slow down. She took his heavy sac in her free hand, massaging it gently as she opened her mouth wide, plunging his meaty sword down her throat all the way to the hilt. Fenris yelped and gasped in pleasure, hands gripping her hair tightly as his hips bucked involuntarily.

Her hot mouth felt so good on his shaft, better than it had felt plunging into her silky folds. He bit his lip to keep from crying out. He wasn't sure if this was purely a human thing, or if the elves did it too. He had no experience in the matter at all, but he was not against doing some field research at this point. The raven haired vixen began bobbing her head on his throbbing member and he moaned out, unable to control himself. He felt like he was on fire, his whole body tingling with pleasure. His tattoos started glowing faintly and he could feel the power coursing through them, faster and faster, pulsing in time with his quickening blood. "Hawke," he cried out hoarsely, voice thick with lust. "Please, Hawke." He wasn't quite sure what he was begging her for, whether it was to let him cum in her mouth, or for her to stop before his body burned up from the lyrium.

Hawke momentarily stopped sucking on his throbbing shaft, pulling it out of her mouth, long sticky ropes of saliva dripping off of the tip. "You're right," she said, although Fenris certainly didn't remember saying anything worth agreeing to. She got off of her knees and flashed a devilish smile. "Bed, now!" It wasn't an invitation, it was an order. Clear and authoritative, and Fenris immediately complied before he realized what was going on. He followed her to his bedroom, which was remarkably well-kept, obviously the only part of the mansion he had poured any coin into. A lush, four poster bed with thick sheets and a dark blue canopy, with silver threading. She raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She was impressed, he had an eye for design.

"Get naked," she said, in a firm but much gentler voice than she had used before. The elf complied quickly and sat on the edge of the bed. He didn't know what to think. Part of him hated being ordered about like he was a slave, but part of him enjoyed it. He knew that Hawke had more experience in the bedroom and therefore he trusted her. She pulled her tunic off over her head and tossed it aside. Her breasts were free, pink rosy nipples already stiffening in the cool air of the mansion. She kicked off her boots and shimmied out of her trousers and her small clothes and dumped them onto the floor. She walked over to the elf, and he ran his hands over her naked skin. He admired her breasts, her taut stomach, and her soft hips. He grabbed her full bum cheeks, a moan of longing escaping his throat. His fingertips traced along her pubic area to her sex, buried in tight dark little curls. He found her pink folds, and rubbed his fingers along them, feeling the heat of her. He wanted to plunder her depths with his fingers, to explore every soft pink petal.

Marian pushed him backwards onto the bed and pinned his hands above his head as she straddled him, her sex pressed against his, rubbing against it but not letting him enter her. Yet. There would be plenty of time for that later. She kissed him hard, her tongue demanding that his yield to hers. Her hands tightened on his wrists and she gyrated her hips. His moans of pleasure, of want and need were intoxicating. She did it again, grinding her wet slit against his hardened shaft. She knew that she would not be able to wait much longer. She wanted to have him, desperately needed him to fill her completely.

Fenris was stronger than Hawke, and he was pinned down only because he was enjoying it for the moment, but he was getting impatient. He wanted her NOW and she was not giving up on her game of torturing him. Her tongue sliding over his in rhythm with her gyrations was driving him mad. He groaned as he felt his cock twitch and throb, rubbing against her sticky lips. He needed to have her soon, otherwise he was going to make a (huge) mess and that would be rather embarrassing. He blushed at the thought, his cheeks tinged pink. Hawke did not seem to notice, as she had moved on to nibbling on his ear, working down his neck and across his chest. She had loosened her grip on him somewhat and he saw this as his chance. He grabbed waist, and lifted her up, plunging his shaft inside of her. She gasped and cried out as his swollen helmet drove in deep. He kept a firm grip on her waist, moaning as he lifted his hips and began thrusting, driving upwards, faster and faster.

Marian cried out, her body shuddering with pleasure as he plundered her with his meaty length, his rod slick with precum and her own sweet honey slipping in fully and easily. He moved his hands down to her hips and held them tightly as he kept thrusting, his pace increasing. Her perky tits bouncing as she felt him drive in deep, pink velvet walls clenching on him. Her body was humming now, she realized, in harmony with his tattoos. They glowed brighter, the humming getting louder as his pace quickened and she knew he was about to reach the point of ecstasy. She was ready for it, squeezing his thickness with her sticky walls, she could feel her own moment approaching, but knew that the elf would get there first.

Fenris could feel himself getting close, knew that he was about to come, so he slowed down. Or at least, he tried to. It seemed his body had a mind of its own now and it was desperate to see this through to its end. He was grunting, guttural sounds escaping his throat as he pumped into his raven haired beauty. Her face a picture of perfection, throes of ecstasy painted on her delicate features. Her full, heaving bosom bouncing, those pink nipples hardened, standing to attention. He dug his nails into her back and scratched down the length of her back. She cried out, more in pleasure than in pain and tossed her head back, her wild moans filling the mansion. He knew that this was it, and Fenris pumped hard, his cock twitching and he felt himself come, his balls tightening and releasing his hot, sticky seed; he felt it splashing on her tight velvet walls, and his whole body thrashed and shuddered in pleasure. He lay there panting, eyes closed, cock still twitching as the last jets of cream spurted forth from his tip. Hawke leaned forward and kissed him on his forehead, then the tip of his nose, and finally on his mouth. She lay against his chest and listened to his heart beating. She would let him have this moment, she decided. Give him a few minutes to rest and to calm down, because she was not done with him, not by a long shot. She was going to have him again and again, and she was not going to stop until the sun came up. She might even go longer, she decided, until the others grew worried and Aveline sent out a patrol. She smiled at the thought and laughed.

"What's so funny?" Fenris breathed heavily, opening one bleary eye. He was exhausted, yet he felt complete. More alive than he had in his whole life. It was a different feeling this time. The marks on his skin did not cause him terrible pain, but rather immense pleasure. He thought he could get used to this. He ran his hand across his lover's cheek. "Just you wait and see, my dear little Fenris," Marian cooed in his ear. "I am not yet through with you. It's a good thing you're a trained warrior and have a lot of stamina," she chuckled as she rolled off of him, and laid one arm across his chest, her legs still entwined with his. "How do you feel about rope?" She laughed, an impish smile spread across her face.

"No rope," he muttered in between kisses. "Unless I get to be the one tying you up."

"Now there is an idea!"

The night wore on, and by morning the pair was thoroughly exhausted. Hawke had fallen asleep, nestled in Fenris's arms and he held her close. She was fidgeting in her sleep, occasionally waking. She would shake her hand or her leg, then fall back asleep. He lay comfortably for several hours until he realized that he could not feel his markings anymore. They had always bothered him to some degree, ranging from outright pain to annoying itch that could never be scratched, but for the first time since he could remember, they lay completely dormant in his skin, not even glowing faintly. He was too tired to wonder what it all meant right now, and drifted off to sleep.

Hawke, on the other hand, had figured out what was happeneing, sometime between the third and fifth round of their passionate lovemaking. The more intimate they became, the more attuned she was becoming to his magically enhanced markings. She knew that she could help ease some of his pain from their sexual trysts if she was willing to absorb the power into her, but she wasn't aware of what this would do to her own powers. She had hoped she was strong enough to contain it. If not, well, it was probably best to not worry about that at the moment. Her fingertips and her toes tingled, and static electricity discharged when she wriggled them, She had overdosed on lyrium once, in Lothering, and she felt similar now to when she did then. All her limbs tingled and she felt a surge of magic building up in her. She knew that she would have to discharge it somehow, otherwise all that pent up power could cause some real damage. Perhaps she would go to the Wounded Coast when she woke up and kill some bandits. She would drag Varric along, and perhaps set him on fire as well, for putting her up to this whole mess in the first place.

With that happy thought, she fell into a deep sleep, a smile firmly planted on her lips.