Author's Note. Flipping Coins 'Verse. This takes place directly after the meeting with Alistair in Going Home.
Taking Wing
Fenris waited until they were in the shadow of the estate to speak.
"What was that?"
Aedan glanced back at Fenris. He'd been quiet since they left the keep after meeting King Alistair. She'd felt his brooding concern, heavy on her shoulders and hoped it would dissipate as he prowled at her heels. "What?" She knew, of course.
"If you survive it?" Fenris' olive skin was ashen as he quoted her words back.
She sighed. "Fenris, it's nothing. I was just overwhelmed by...nostalgia and...he seemed decent, solid, don't you think? Good looking armor."
"Hawke?" Grasping her shoulders in an almost harsh grip, he turned her towards him.
There was worry in his roughened voice, just a tinge of fear. She sighed and ran her fingers through his hair, smiling into his eyes." How much longer do you think Kirkwall will stand like this? Do you think the knife edge is going to hold much longer?"
"I...can't imagine it will be much longer."
"No. And who have they called their Champion? Where else will I be but in the middle? Templars, mages, coterie, demons. Oh, my. Someone could get a good hit. I'm pretty lucky to have made it this far." His fingers tightened on her shoulders. "Well, luck and you by my side."
"You will always have me by your side." She was right. There would be a conflict soon and he knew his place.
"I don't doubt it." She didn't. But luck? Luck would run out on them, someday. And deep down, she'd never expected to reach thirty. But...why dwell on it? She drew one finger up his ear and smiled as he shivered.
Fenris slid his hands down, just brushing his fingers along the full curve of her breasts to sit at her waist, curling into the edges of her jerkin, feeling the need to hold onto her, anchor her, his Hawke, as though she might fly away from him. Disappear into her shadows.
"We could go, now. You told me once that you wanted to go back. That Ferelden was still your home."
"I did." She recalled that talk, so early in their days together. "It was a long time ago, I'm surprised you remember."
"I remember nearly every word you've ever spoken to me." He tugged her into the alcoved entry of her estate, shaded and green under vines and cupped her jaw in his hand, tilting her head to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around him, eagerly, her tongue darting out to sweep along his lower lip and then gliding in to twine with his.
He wasn't about to be distracted though, not even...gah, she was too clever by half. His eyes closed as she stroked deft fingers along the open spaces along his spine. "Hawke, let's go inside."
"Your wish, Fenris, is my command." She cut him sly eyes as she disengaged from him and grabbed the door's levered handle.
If only that were so. He would have her on Isabela's boat and bound for Ferelden in hours. Back to that home she had begged the warden king for. It had set every nerve he had on edge, the longing in her voice. The underlying fear that she would never see it again. He stalked into the estate at her heels, eyes lighting briefly on the courtyard wall he'd pressed her against that long ago summer night. Again he looked at her and felt the urge to bind her, hold her close and safe. But she would never allow it.
Hawke waved Bodahn off when he came to collect their gear after they stripped their outer armor and washed their faces. All it needed was a quick brush down and putting away, which they did, Aeryn stepping out of her boots to pad on the cool stone floor in bare feet. Chatting with a king didn't work up much of a lather.
There were trunks in the hall that hadn't been there before. The dwarves were packing up their last few years in Kirkwall and heading for Orlais, away from the storm Aedan Hawke expected to blow in any moment.
Up the stairs and into her quiet, shaded, cool room, unchanged in all this time, except now his trunk stood in one corner, his clothes were folded into the wardrobe. He still spent time at the mansion, mostly padding through the dank rooms to raid the cellars. She had clothes and such there, but almost always they returned to the solid, well-kept warmth of the Amell estate.
He slipped his hands under the linen tunic to cup her breasts in his warm, hard palms and she leaned back against his lean, bare chest into his embrace with a soft sigh. Tracing the long line of her throat, first with tongue, then back with teeth, he felt her pulse speed and her breathing grow ragged. What would she allow, then?
She twisted in his arms and he admired again the graceful, lithe strength that infused her as he tugged the tunic up and over her head and pressed her backwards, until her knees hit the bedframe. She cocked her eyebrow at him. "Pushy."
"You enjoy it." His voice sunk deep in his chest in a growl as he captured her wrists in his hands. And she grinned, just a little sharply.
"Yes, I do." Those wide grey eyes like beaten silver dwelled on his mouth and she darted forward to kiss him but he held her still, with slight pressure on the delicate wristbones. He saw her eyes widen. Generally, their bedsport was a give and take romp. Only rarely did one of them take control and here was the sign that that was what Fenris wanted. She hesitated then and he stepped closer, a predatory smile twisting his lips.
"Sit on the bed." It was very much an order and she lifted her chin, just a slight bit imperiously, but then shrugged her white shoulders and did as he requested. Knees together, back straight, hands in her lap as though she was in a parlor taking tea. He tugged at her breast band. "Off." Looking up at him from beneath dark lashes, she complied, tossing the garment to the side. With one finger, he traced the soft full curve of one breast, then the other, circling the peak, watching the aureole contract and her rosy nipples pebble. He flicked his eyes up, but hers were on his hands, now cupping and kneading, her plump lower lip caught between white teeth.
Crouching, he set his mouth to a tender, turgid nipple and suckled as she gasped and arched her back. He rolled it gently between teeth and tongue and mirrored the movement with warm calloused fingers on the other. He switched after a minute, laving the left side now, lavishing it with attention as she pressed against him, her breath catching in her throat. For a moment he pulled away, observing the blush spread across her pale skin in the filtered light of the afternoon. Aedan brought her hands up to his neck, to skim up to his ears, but he jerked back.
"Hands to yourself, Hawke." He warned.
She pouted. "I want to..."
"Not now. Allow me my..." He paused. "My pursuit."
"What is it that you're pursuing, since I promise I'm not running?"
He merely smiled, a hint of wickedness in the tip of his lips, but heat shimmered in the depths of his eyes. She made a little show of setting her hands to her sides.
He nodded his thanks and then dropped his head to run kisses down the valley between and slipped to his knees, his hands straying to the laces of her trousers. In a nimble flick of fingers they were loosened. Reaching around, he gripped the back of her waistband, pulled and when she lifted, stripped her, smalls and all, tumbling her back to lean on her elbows, laughing.
Setting one hand on her taut stomach, Fenris let his long, blunt fingers of his other hand drift between her thighs, sliding into her slick, stroking and circling, circling, circling her clit. She gasped and her hips twitched up, following his movement. He played, slower and more intense contact and then fleeting, little deft movements that ratcheted her up, drove her to beg.
"Maker, Fenris. Come...come on and..." She coaxed.
"Not yet." He purred and his clever fingers pressed into her sheath as he watched her writhe. Two and then he pulled away and he smiled at her little whine. He slid three back in, stretching her wet clinging heat and searching for...
"Ah, oh...please, Fenris again, please, please..." Hawke locked her knees against the bedframe she was still draped against and drove down against his hand.
Instead, he leaned and breathed in the scent of her arousal, hints of the sea and of apples. He spread her wider, with his shoulders and nosed between her folds to lick, delicately, tasting.
She hummed, a warm, delighted sound as he explored her with his tongue, flicking against the nubbin, sending shocks of pleasure coursing up her nerves. But she was soon begging, "Let me, oh, let me come, please, Maker…"
"You are too impatient." He tried to sound annoyed, but he gave in then, to her pleading, to the want in her husky voice and stroked the spongy inner spot once and twice and "Oh, Maker, Fenris...ahh..." He felt her pulse around his fingers, soaking his hand, chin with the wet evidence of her orgasm. He pulled away as she trembled.
Before she could recover, even open her eyes, he'd levered himself over her, licking a stripe up her flat belly, between her breasts, tasting salt and the indefinable autumnal taste of her, settling his lean hips between her strong pale thighs.
Aedan brought her hands up to hold him to her, but he reared back and caught them again, pinning them to either side of her shoulders, bracing himself there. "No."
Fenris shifted and then in a smooth, clean thrust hilted his cock in her as she shuddered under him. He allowed himself only rolling shallow movements until she was undulating, responding to him with the whole of her lithe body. He growled, dipping down to catch her bruised lower lip between his teeth, to nudge her mouth open, licking, sharing the flavor of her desire. Her tongue curled with his, entwined, enticed.
Denied her hands, she locked her legs around his hips and worked against him, entreating him to come deeper. He kept his movements small and teasing for long minutes until she was desperate, whining and thrashing her head and he had hardly a shred of control left.
Gutterally, he spoke. "Hawke...Aedan...look at me. Open your eyes, dulceda, alatus." She did, obeying the request with gleaming eyes, black with just a bright ring of pale silver. Her gaze, locked with his as they strove, his hands clutching her wrists.
Then, oh then he drew back and thrust, deep. Her pelvis smashed up against his as she bucked to meet him. Again and her thighs clamped around his hips so hard he would expect bruises tomorrow. Again and her tight, hot sheath tightened like a velvet vice around his cock as her climax caught her. Her eyes fluttered, closed and he begged now, "No...stay with me."
With what seemed like an act of pure defiant will, she did, gasping "Fenris, oh, so..." And he spent, coming with a white hot blaze through his veins. He collapsed across her, her wrists still captured.
They shifted, burrowing under the light sheet as the sweat gleaming on their skin cooled even in the warm air.
He believed her to be asleep. He was nearly so, when she whispered to him, in the cloaking dark. "I remember too. I remember you telling me sometimes you have to turn and face the tiger. I'm not running this time, Fenris."
She slept and dreamt of shadows, comforting and dark.
But he lay awake, wishing he had never told her of tigers.
AN:
So, I imagine Fenris might use a term or two of Arcanum for lover's talk as well as swearing. This is an approximation of Latin.
dulceda sweetness
alatus winged
