He remains outside her window until she sleeps, waiting. For what, neither is sure.
She knew he was there. He was always there, just outside her estate. He never knocked at the door, never made a move to show that he was there, but he was. It had always been so for as many years as she had known the white haired elf. He had started the night he met her, she guessed that he'd come along just to judge whether or not he could trust the rogue with the apostate sister.
He never stopped coming to rest just outside her home. At first it was at Gamlen's stupid hovel, where she and Bethany had had to share a room, then at the Amell (now Hawke) estate.
He stayed until she fell asleep, according to Bethany who always had a more difficult time falling asleep than her sister, and left immediately after.
At first it had disturbed her, to think that someone was just standing out there, out of sight, but after awhile she made a game of it. She would feign sleep to see if she could trick him into believing she was asleep, so he would leave early; she failed every time. Somehow he always knew.
It became second nature for her to use her rogue senses each night, now that she was used to his presence it made it easier to sense him, now she makes certain he really is there, then closes her eyes and deepens her breathing.
What she doesn't understand was why he continues to do it. She's long since gained his trust, and she knew that he wasn't staying there simply to guard her from anyone or thing that would come for her in the night; he knew she was more than capable of dispatching anything that came for her.
It absolutely vexed her not to know why he came back every time.
Not that she wasn't glad he did- it was comforting for her to know he was there. Hawke knew full well why it brought her such comfort. She'd long since fallen for the elf.
Every glance of his green eyes, which she could never read.
Every shift of his muscles when he was uncomfortable, or angry.
Every movement of his lips.
He drove her to such distraction that she'd been nearly killed time and time again, and it was only an angry Anders, or terrified Bethany, that brought her back from the brink.
Hawke was certain that her companions knew of her infatuation with the lyrium branded Fenris. They undoubtedly had no qualms about telling her they were aware of her secret.
Bethany had been aware of her attraction to Fenris from the beginning, being her sister and closest confidant, and when she had been taken to the circle, Bethany wrote regularly to find out if she'd acted upon her feelings yet. Luckily, her sister was the least embarrassing of her companions, and she was able to really confide in the mage.
Anders pretended not to notice, blocking out all thoughts of her with someone else, as his love for her grew more every day. She hated how he admired her, as she knew that she would only break his heart if he acted upon his feelings. He was too obvious, too... Anders. The only thing he managed to speak of was the plight of the mages, and Hawke did not entirely agree with his viewpoint on how mages should be treated. He wanted too much- she just couldn't see how another Tevinter would improve anyone's lot in life.
Varric smirked at her when he caught her staring at the unaware Fenris, which seemed to be happening more often than before. He had his subtle way of teasing her with words, it was lucky for Hawke that only Isabela seemed to catch the dwarf's clever innuendo.
Merrill, the most oblivious of the group, had whispered into her ear one day, saying that she really ought to tell Fenris that she loved him, because they would make an adorable couple. Hawke had not been able to look at Fenris for a day because of the innocent comment from the dark haired elf.
Sebastian, who seemed to be as naïve as Merrill, had made it very clear to her that she should be careful, because Fenris could end up breaking her heart.
After his little speech, Sebastian had looked around guiltily, and said to her in an almost offhand way, 'And Hawke, intimacy before marriage is a sin in the eyes of the Maker'.
Hawke had spluttered and turned red. Sebastian turned away, his chuckles shaking his shoulders as he walked away from her shocked form, leaving her with the impression that perhaps the man was not so innocent as he appeared to be.
Aveline said nothing, and simply looked at Hawke in that knowing way of hers. Maker how Hawke hated that knowing gaze- she'd given the same one to Aveline upon learning about Donnic; but to have it turned on her- maddening!
Isabela, in contrast to Aveline, tended to make inappropriate remarks to Fenris whenever Hawke was in the area, simply to ignite her jealousy and make her seethe. She was trying to push Hawke to make her move on Fenris, and Hawke was aware of the tactic and tried to ignore her words… but Maker. Just that morning Isabela had commented that many Magisters had their slaves oiled for them, so that they would glisten.
Neither Isabela nor Hawke was able to concentrate fully for the rest of the day. The image was… well- She'd shot Isabela angry glares all day long, for putting the image in her head. Again her companions' comments had left Hawke unable to look Fenris in the eyes.
Now she walked home from a long day of killing slavers and blood mages, but she was not as alone as she looked at first glance. Fenris followed her on the rooftops, silently protecting her from anyone and anything, just as he had for the past three years.
Before she knew it, Hawke was home. To her surprise, there had been no unexpected attacks, nobody asking her to help them, and no screaming innocents just waiting for her to help them. Hawke approached the door of her home, which was engraved with the Amell family crest, and before entering whispered, "Goodnight, Fenris."
None but Fenris would have heard her, his elven ears catching more than a human's, or even Merrill's, could ever.
Each night she dismissed him at her door, hoping that he would go home to rest, hoping that he would stay with her until she fell asleep. He always stayed, and this night was no different.
Before falling into bed Hawke wrote a few words into her journal, 'Slavers. Blood mages. Isabela flashing everyone. A normal day, really.' She was too tired to write more, and finally she lay down.
She fell asleep almost immediately, her hair an endearing mess upon her pillow, her armor strewn about in a careless heap- though her precious daggers had been placed carefully on the desk beside her journal.
Hawke awoke only a half-hour later. Her breathing came in deep gasps, her skin shiny with the cooling sweat on her skin, the dim firelight highlighting the gleam. She was confused, what had she dreamt to stir such a reaction in her?
"Strange," She said aloud to herself and the room.
"Strange is not the word I would use." Hawke was out of her bed and diving to her daggers before the words, and the voice with a deep timber, registered in her mind. It was a familiar rumble, one that had made her weak in the knees far too many times to count.
"F-Fenris…" It was odd to hear herself stutter, she was so normally composed. It seemed to most people that nothing could shake her sarcastic rogue poise. He sat on a bench that had been pushed into the corner covered in shadow. He leaned back against the wall watching her.
"What are you-" Hawke did not finish her question, for that was the moment she realized she was naked as the day she'd been born. Fenris said nothing, and simply observed her flesh, completely cool. The look in his eyes said everything of his pleasure at seeing her exposed.
Hawke's face flushed, and she strode quickly to the bed to pull the sheet over herself. Maker, why did he have such an effect on her? Had it been Varric she'd have laughed!
"What are you doing here?" She said, taking a deep breath to steady her words.
"I had thought, for a time, that you were in love with the abomination," The words were not an answer to her question, but the beginning of something else entirely. Hawke's brows rose in surprise, she'd thought she'd made it obvious as to where her affections lay; she'd thought that her friends had made it obvious. Before she had a chance to deny it, he carried on, his hair barely swaying with the small motions of his body.
"You spent such an extraordinary amount of time with him- always brought him on your adventures, never argued with him. I never saw you explicitly flirt with him- but I thought perhaps you did so in private. The fact that I never saw you look at him quite the right way, never heard him brag about your relationship- it gave me hope."
Hawke inhaled sharply, her grip on the sheet covering her tightening, her limbs growing heavy. She stared at him from her spot beside the bed. "I never argued with him because I knew it would end up in his death- I would have killed him for spouting idiocy at me. It is difficult enough hearing him speaking of it to others."
He leaned forward, resting his chin thoughtfully on his still-gauntleted hands; His face finally appearing in the firelight. The sharp edges of his pointer finger tapped lightly on his chin.
"Of course, your companions quite encouraged that hope-" He ignored her answer, "Varric's attempts at subtlety failed, Isabela's flirting was obviously directed to make you angry. One day Sebastian told you that intimacy before marriage was a sin." Hawke looked away in momentary embarrassment, while Fenris' half smirk made a brief appearance, "He was unable to look at me the rest of the day. His ears flamed red every time his gaze fell upon you. Each act firmed my belief that you might be interested in me. But, of course, I could never be certain."
Her throat tightened with every word, he was… receptive to her? He truly did want her? "Fenris," She said, trying to speak words that seemed almost stuck in her throat. What if she was wrong?
Fenris stopped her by standing. His gait was slow; he sauntered to a spot just before her, where he was almost touching her.
He locked his gaze purposefully with hers; and bent forward to ghost his lips against Hawke's. "I wasn't certain. Not until tonight." If it were possible, Hawke would say his voice was huskier than usual; a sound that made her eyes slam shut in anticipation.
"Fenris," She moaned wanting to feel his lips. He shuddered in his place.
"Do you want to know why Hawke? Why tonight confirmed everything I wished for?" She nodded. "Because tonight you said goodnight to me. You wrote in your journal. You fell asleep. Your usual routine- and I was about to leave," He continued whispering against her lips; torturing them both with the almost contact, "When you moaned my name in your sleep." The way he said moaned broke her constraint, who could resist that elf and his maker-damned husky voice, she propelled herself forward to connect their lips.
It was not a soft kiss- but then Hawke was anything but a delicate girl. She appreciated the way he bit her lip hard enough to bruise, perhaps even draw blood- the way his lips dominated her making them mold to whatever he wished. Fenris' tongue darted out to her lips, to soothe the bite, and she opened her mouth automatically earning her a breathy chuckle. His arms wrapped around her waist, and it was as if he'd never let go, sending a thrill through her body.
She pressed herself tightly against him, making him stumble so that his back hit the bedpost hard. Hawke's fingers finally tangled into his soft white hair- as they had ached to do for so many years. She tugged at the strands lightly, inducing a growl from deep in Fenris' throat. "You… need a haircut," She groaned.
He released her hips, where he had had a firm grip, and tugged at her bed sheet. The sheet fell to the floor when she pulled back from their connecting liplock for a breath.
"Please," She said, releasing his hair and tugging at the armor that was cold against her bare skin, "Please Fenris."
"Shh, now my Hawke… No need to beg," He grinned ferally, "We have to save that for another night." He pushed her back and worked at the buckles on his black armor.
"Ngh!" Hawke protested, speech being beyond her for the moment. She violently smashed herself against the armor, and tugged at the leather leggings clinging to the elf's legs. "Now. Now, Fenris!" Patience, not one of the Hawke family virtues.
His pupils had dilated enough to nearly cover the green of his eyes, and as Hawke tore at his leggings, Fenris managed to slip the armor over his head.
"Here I thought I was in control of this."
Hawke chuckled throatily at him, "You thought wrong," She whispered.
Hawke managed to lower his leggings only far enough to expose him to her. He didn't give her a chance to see him, as he spun them around to smash her against the bedpost, and slammed his lips against hers. His hips connected to hers and she rubbed herself against him- skin on skin. The friction was… earth shattering.
Her head spun at the contact that she'd craved so badly, for so many years. It was a dream, it had to be. But whether it was a dream or not, Hawke was going to enjoy this for as long as she possibly, and think about consequences after.
"Damn it, Fenris, now!" Nothing would stop her this night- she would have him. As soon as possible, if she had anything to say about it. He silenced her orders with a kiss brutal enough to make her lips bleed; Hawke smirked into it. "You're losing your finely tuned control, love," She teased him, without pulling her lips from his.
Fenris smirked into the kiss, trailing his cold, sharp-tipped gauntlets up from her hips, cupping her breasts. "It seems I am not the only one losing control," he said to her, as she gasped and pulled away from his mouth to bite his shoulder, stifling her screams as her backed bowed into the bedpost behind her.
"I never claimed to have control when it comes to you, Fenris." Hawke shifted her hips and- Oh, sweet Maker. He was as large as she'd dreamed. Fenris growled at the unexpected entry. He pumped himself into her slowly, waiting for something. Hawke moaned, agonized over the too slow pace. "Faster Fenris, faster."
Fenris' jaw clenched and he withdrew from the protesting Hawke. He spun her around, slamming her into the bedpost, holding her there. She wrapped her arms around the post, fearing she would not be able to stand upright without its support. "Not fast Hawke. Slow. Slow enough to make up for so many years imagining you. Picturing your perfect-" He ran his gauntleted hands down her back to her ass, and gripped it tight "-ass, wishing I could have it writhing under me as I so often dreamed." Hawke whimpered, pushing her ass into him further, searching for friction. The bedpost pushed onto her chest in a nearly painful way. She held onto it tighter.
"And I did dream about this Hawke, more often than I care to admit. I dreamed of your wonderful breasts, of how they would feel cupped in my bare hands," Fenris removed his gauntlets, cupping her breasts gently now. The warmth of his hands compared to the cold of the gauntlets before was excruciatingly wonderful. "Better than I could have imagined- dreaming still of how I would," Fenris nipped at her ear, whispering into it, "fuck your wonderful breasts."
Hawke shuddered at the way he said fuck, just the word feeling to her as a pump of his cock would,"If you keep this up, Fenris, you'll get to fuck more than my breasts."
"Of course Hawke. That is not all I dreamed of putting my cock into." He licked his way down her backed slowly, exploring every gleaming, wonderful inch of her scarred body. She shuddered at his words, coupled with the sensation of his tongue slowly finding its way closer to where she wanted it most. Fenris gripped her thighs, and pulled them apart, and, after exploring the dimples on her back, brought his mouth to the juncture of her thighs.
"Here," Fenris his voice even more gravelly than usual, "Here is where I dreamed of the most. I dreamed of this cunt so often Hawke, so often that if I told you, you would think me a liar. I dreamed of the scent of you, wishing and praying that one day I would be able to get close enough to smell your desire." Fenris put his lips to the back of her thigh, close enough to Hawke's cunny that he could almost taste it, "I dreamed of licking it, Hawke. Of pulling apart these sweet lips and finally getting a taste of heaven. Of tasting you until you screamed, and begged me to stop, until I'd wrung every last bit of pleasure from you." Fenris' nose met her ass, and he finally tasted her, dragging his tongue all the way down her pink slit.
Hawke managed only a quiet moan before convulsing in Fenris' arms. He caught her as her legs gave out, gently placing her on the bed. Her orgasm lasted longer than she'd thought possible, and with Fenris ravenously sucking all the juices he could from her lips, kneeling in front of her, worshipping her, Hawke couldn't help but lay frozen for a time, unable to speak or move. Only able to revel in the moment, and pray that it was not a dream. Pray that Fenris had truly just confessed how much he needed her; Pray that he truly had said those wonderful, wonderful things to her. Pray that he had just given her the most intense orgasm imaginable- all with a few words and his tongue.
"Fenris," Hawke said, her voice cracking as she spoke, "Fenris. I can hardly move." She was trembling.
"I'm not done with you Hawke. I'm a creative man, and all my dreams have yet to come true- I intend to fulfill every one by the time we are through."
"Every one?"
"Every single one." He confirmed, Hawke's body flamed with desire again.
"How many fantasies do you have, Fenris?"
Fenris' dark chuckle was all the answer Hawke got that night.
The end.
Maybe.
Author's note! Okay... Wow. What... what did I just write? Must be the three french vanillas I had! If you liked it, please review. Also, if you saw anything wrong with my grammar or something that felt choppy about the story please feel free to tell me about it. Thanks for reading!