F!Hawke x Anders

Author's Note: Hope you enjoy. ^_^

It was evening, and Hawke was having supper at the estate. It didn't taste as good as it could have. In fact, it was her favorite dish of water foul with pearl onions, scalions, green squash, and a few other more finely chopped vegetable bits that she wasn't quite sure about. It was a dish that Orana made very well. Hawke's mother Leandra had found the recipe in one of the books that was in the estate when they had moved in.

The first few times that she had made it with Orana had been an interesting experiment, but eventually the sweet elven girl had gotten the hang of it. She couldn't read, and had gotten embarrassed whenever Leandra had offered to teach her, so she'd had to learn the recipe by memory alone. When Hawke's mother had died, that meant Orana had to fix it by herself. Eventually, she had gotten it down to a fine, delicious art.

Hawke barely tasted it.

She had been expecting Anders to be eating with her. It was a rare occasion when she actually felt like dressing up a bit, and she was wearing a blue dress that flattered her form and her coloring. Her hair was wrapped up with a red ribbon, which was matched with tiny red accents in the dress. There was even a bit of color on her face, when she normally left her skin natural.

It was supposed to have been a surprise for her lover. She had imagined the look on his face, the surprise, the slight pleased smile, the drift of his eyes over her form, and the little glimpse of his tongue as he licked at his lower lip just a bit the way he always did when she knew that he liked what he saw. Hawke had been looking forward to that so much. Putting him in that position—giving him those moments—was always worth the effort, worth the occasional acknowledgment that she was a woman who had soft bits that appreciated the attentions he could give.

Orana had had to warm up her food for her to eat it; she had waited for over an hour for him to return from working in the clinic. She had sat waiting, picking at those details in her dress in mounting impatience and injured pride and injured feelings. She had told him earlier that she wanted to have a nice dinner with just the two of them. After what had happened with the girl Ella, he had been focusing on healing the sick of Kirkwall and had lost interest in the cause of mages. That was less stress on him, but it also depressed him a bit.

By the Void, didn't he want this?

With her meal only half eaten, Hawke decided that it wasn't worth finishing. Her hunger had been mostly sated already, but she was feeling other things, and she wanted to fuss at him. He would be no good to the sick and destitute if he did not take a break now and then for himself. He would have a break for himself if she had to bludgeon him over the head and force him into it.

"Excuse me, Orana," she said, getting up from the table. The girl was standing nearby; it was something she had not been able to convince her to not do. Hawke had had to get used to having her standing there while she ate, if she wanted to actually sit down and eat instead of taking a wrapped meal out of the house with her.

Not only that, the girl actually got upset if Hawke tried to clean up the dishes. It was frustrating, but really, that was what she was paying her for. "I'm going out to Anders's clinic."

Orana bowed in her sweet fashion. "Yes, Mistress. Would you like me to prepare some food for you to bring with you?"

"Oh!" Hawke chewed her lip, considering. It would serve him right if she didn't bring him anything, but cruel at the same time, and she didn't want to do that. "Please, Orana."

It wasn't long before Hawke was headed down the cellar steps into Darktown. On a whim, she had left the dress on. It showed a nice bit of neck and shoulder, and even some cleavage. It would make her a target down there, but she had a knife stashed in her knickers, and she always had her magic. She could wreak havoc in the unlikely chance that she would get accosted. It wasn't as if it was far from the exit to the cellar to his clinic doors, anyway.

Peering around the door frame, Hawke looked around the big room with the cots and shelves that comprised her lover's clinic, his other passion besides the freedom of mages. If she was to give herself credit, it came after she did, but she wasn't giving her that credit tonight. He'd stayed there instead of taking sup with her.

There were a couple refugees sitting around on a cot here and there. They must have at one point been patients, but they looked well enough now. In fact, she could see that one man in particular had been healed. His clothes were still bloodstained on his collar, and there was blood on his face which had obviously flowed from what was probably once a gash on now-unblemished skin.

Hawke felt a sudden flash of irritation. They didn't have any reason to be hanging about when they were no longer sick. After giving another look around, she could see a mass of gray feathers sticking up over Anders's desk in the corner. It appeared that he had passed out from exhaustion. So he had run himself ragged helping these people, and they weren't leaving?

The way she was dressed had finally drawn some attention from the former patients. She straightened up. "Anyone who is no longer in need of healing should vacate the premises in a timely manner. And by 'timely', I really mean immediately. Or you'll make me rather cross." She held out her hand palm up, conjuring a swirl of energy that glowed and twisted around her wrist and her fingers.

That was a bit dramatic, she admitted to herself, but seeing them all hop to their feet and scramble for the door was worth it. It had also gotten Anders's attention, because she heard a sleepy snore sort of snort, and he jerked upright in his seat. He looked about to tilt backwards in it, as well, but fortunately Hawke had been headed in his direction and she caught the chair before he could. Next to him on the desk, she put the food she had brought for him.

Anders shook his head a little and blinked up at her. "Hawke! I..."

"You didn't come to dinner," she accused. Taking a step back so that he could get to his feet, she crossed her arms under her breasts, knowing that this would emphasize her cleavage.

When he was facing her, Anders's eyes widened. That little lip licking was preempted by a gape as he took her in. A crease formed between his brows. "Is it that late? Oh, love, I'm sorry. I lost track of time."

"Obviously."

"You can't expect me to turn away those who are hurting," he protested. On his face were warring a forlorn expression and an expression of appreciation for what he was seeing before him.

"I suppose not," Hawke said, relenting far sooner than she had planned. Oh, she had planned on taking it easy on him—eventually—but she'd wanted to make him sweat it out before that. Though, if she was being honest, he did look like he was sweating a bit. Maybe he was expecting her to tease him. Maybe she would.

It was satisfying to see the man swallow as she put one hip forward and slid closer again. "You know, I'm really disappointed. Orana made that dish that we love, you know. I waited for you."

"Oh," he said. Hawke was satisfied that his eyes kept flicking down to the expanse of flesh that she had left exposed to him. She guessed that if she decided to get a little grabby with him, she'd find that he was paying full attention to her.

He started to reach out for her, but she turned away from him before he could touch her. "You're tired. You were sleeping when I came in. And I know you probably haven't eaten since that bread you had for breakfast." She pointed at the food. "You had better eat. I'm afraid it's cold, though. I suppose I could warm it up for you, if you prove you're sorry."

"I'd rather warm something else up."

Hawke jumped. Anders had managed to lean over and whisper into her ear without touching her otherwise. She felt his hands around her waist, felt him smooth them upward. It sent shivers down her spine, and she felt things low in her belly tighten.

When she tried to pull away from him, his grip tightened. "Anders." His lips were on the side of her neck, working their way down and across her shoulder. "Anders."

"You're such a tease, love," he murmured against her skin.

"I waited for you." Hawke squirmed, still struggling a little, though not too strongly. Anders's tongue flicked out. He turned her around and licked over her collarbone. She put her hands against his chest. "I wore this dress and everything. I wore a dress."

Anders breathed in deeply. "And Maker, it looks good on you."

Hawke smirked a little. "I know. That's why I wore it. I wanted to surprise you." She tugged on one of the rings holding his coat closed in front. "But you kept me waiting."

"I can only apologize so many times, love," he replied.

"Hmph." Hawke didn't want to attempt to tease him anymore. It wasn't exactly working the way she wanted. Giving up the ruse, she suddenly shoved him hard. He gasped as he staggered backwards. She grabbed the ring again and swung him around to get his back against the wall.

"Waiting, and aching," she said, leaning up against him to press her lips to his roughly.

"Mmf!" Anders slipped his arms around her and pulled her closer, returning the kiss. He slid his tongue into her mouth, and she bit it. This drew a moan out of him, and his fingers curled into her back. When they broke, he gasped, "I'm sorry, love."

"You're going to pay for it, now," Hawke said. She put her hand against his belly through his robes and slid it downward. When she got to the bulge she knew would be there, she pressed, rubbing up and down slightly. He moaned again.

"What, here?" he panted.

"Why not?"

He looked down at her, his warm eyes dark with lust and his cheeks flushed. "Wouldn't you be more comfortable—Aah! Watch that!"

She had taken hold of his robes again, and yanked him after her towards his old room at the back of the clinic. It was barely more than a closet, but it still had a bit of a bed. It was more of a cot, but it would do.

Anders did not protest along the way. He shut the rickety door behind them, and went to her. "Love, you're so beautiful," he said in a reverent tone. The look on his face, the adoration and the simple pleasure there, made it all worth it to her.

Before she could respond to that, his lips were against her neck, his stubble scratching lightly on her skin. The feathers on his pauldrons tickled over her breasts and her shoulders. Hawke sighed, and reveled in the sensations as he moved his mouth downwards, alternating between kisses, licks, and little bites. Across the base of her throat, over her collarbone again. He traced lines with his tongue over the tops of her breasts, causing her to sigh.

"Mmm," she murmured, closing her eyes. She slid her fingers into his hair, rubbing her thumbs over his ears and tugging at the tie holding his hair up. Then she felt his hands creep upward, cupping her breasts through her shirt. "Aah!" she gasped, when his thumbs rubbed over her stiff nipples the way she'd rubbed his ears.

"You smell good," he said, before he buried his face in her cleavage. One of his hands left her breast and traveled around to cup her rear and squeeze in that way he knew she liked.

"You don't," she laughed softly.

"Sorry, love," he said. He lifted his head and raised an eyebrow at her. "We could stop. We could go home, I could bathe..."

"No," she insisted. She shoved him once more. This time he fell back against his cot, a mildly amused look on his face.

"All right," he said. "I—" He stopped when she got down on her knees in front of him on the floor, which was not much better than packed earth. "Hawke! Your dress—!"

Not responding to his exclamation, and not caring about her dress getting filthy, Hawke grasped his knees and shoved them apart. She licked her lips and looked up at him with a mischievous smirk. Leaning closer, she unclasped the front buckles of his robes, and pushed them back up his thighs. It wasn't far enough back to expose him completely, but she would make do. She nestled close, ducking under the edge of his robes and giggling a little to herself as he made an embarrassed and startled noise.

Fortunately, Anders liked his underthings on the loose side. This made it easier to pull them down enough and free his cock enough for her to get at it. Encircling its length with her fingers, she parted her lips to run her tongue along the broad head. "Oohhnn," he moaned, leaning back a little and arching his hips towards her.

"Mmm," Hawke hummed in appreciation around him. He gasped. She breathed in his scent, swirling her tongue in circles while she began to stroke up and down with her hand. This elicited another low noise out of the other mage.

She began bobbing over him, licking and sucking gently while continuing to caress up and down his shaft. With the nails of her free hand, she scraped over the skin on his inner thigh.

"Ah... H-Hawke... hah..!" Anders's hips rocked gently as she worked at him. His reactions and his squirming were turning her on even more than she already was, and she moaned.

This was her favorite part, when she could get him to lose some of his control. She picked up the pace until she could tell he was almost there, and then she stopped.

When she leaned back, he was panting hard, his fingers curled around the edge of the cot and his knuckles white.

"Nngh... naughty... Such a... tease," he gasped out.

"I try," she agreed. She gave the stiffness between his legs another little tug, making him jerk, and then she stood up.

Anders stared at her. His lips were slightly parted and he was still catching his breath. The want on his expression was lovely to her. Her own cheeks felt as hot as his looked, and her heart was pounding in her chest. She wanted him badly.

"Your dress is dirty," he commented absently, putting his hands on her.

"So it is," she said. She put her hands on his shoulders and climbed up on him, straddling his waist.

Anders raised his eyebrows. "In our clothes?" He smirked, his lip twisting up slightly. He touched her breasts, caressing back and forth. Then he slipped his thumbs under the edge of the dress and pushed down roughly.

Hawke gasped as she heard the sound of fabric ripping. "The dress!"

"Oops."

She smacked him lightly across the face. "You bloody hypocrite."

He grinned at her, unrepentant.

Rather than make another comment about it, Hawke kissed him. While his fingers explored her now-exposed breasts, she hitched up the hem of the dress and wiggled forward closer in his lap until their bellies were touching. With a bit more shifting of clothing, her flesh was against his.

"Nothing underneath?" Anders queried.

"Well..."

He pinched a nipple, then bit it. Then he licked it in circles. "Aah!" she cried, rolling her head back.

Reaching between them, she rubbed him against her. He groaned and shuddered, obviously still needy from being denied before. She was not immune to the sensation, herself, and let out a shaky breath. That was enough for her. She didn't want to wait any more for this. Pushing him down onto his back, she arched her back and slid down over him. Feeling his hard length pushing into her felt so good. "Anders..."

She leaned down to kiss him, more roughly than last time. She devoured his mouth, while she began rocking against him. He was breathless against her, grabbing for whatever purchase he could get on her dress. There were more sounds of fabric ripping, but Hawke didn't care. She could afford to buy a new one, if Orana couldn't repair it. She grabbed at his face, biting his lip and making him groan. Squeezing her thighs around him, she bucked, and he moved as much as he could up against her.

The clothing they still wore added extra friction to the encounter. They'd never done it like this before. Always it had been skin on skin, mostly anyway, sweat dripping down and slicking between them. But the dress was constricting, and giving extra pressure which somehow was heightening the sensations she was feeling. She felt the buckles and the edges of his clothing rubbing her through the fabric.

There were grasping hands over her back, down her spine and over her hips. Anders moaned into her mouth; she breathed him in. Their kiss ended. She had to breathe. So close, she was so close...

Finally, the heat and the spark growing in her belly and through her limbs exploded, and she cried out, gasping and arching her back and rocking against him more fervently as she came. He groaned underneath her and clutched at her more tightly as he followed shortly afterward.

Panting to catch her breath, Hawke collapsed atop him. She buried her hands in his feathers, kissing his neck and sighing. His chest heaved under her as he likewise caught his breath. With a little wiggle, he slid out of her, and he made a quiet grunting noise.

"Hmm, I should make you wait more often..." He murmured, caressing her.

"Don't. you. dare."