Chapter One
He first met her in Lowtown. The night was bitter, cold biting at his face as he descended the steps into the alienage.
"Your men are dead, your trap has failed. I suggest running back to your master while you can."
"You're going nowhere slave," the captain snarled, making to grab his arm.
"I am not a slave!"
Fenris' lyrium markings sprang to life as he thrust a transparent fist into the captain's chest, snarling, and thus crushing his heart as easily as if it were a grape. He then turned to the unusual group of people before him, and his eyes snapped instantly to whom he could only assume to be the leader of the group. She had the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen, the colour of warm honey, and her hair were as black as midnight as it framed her porcelain face. Fenris' breath hitched in his throat momentarily until he found his voice again to apologise and explain about the violent situation experienced beforehand.
"If they were really trying to capture you, then I'm happy I helped," the woman said. Fenris felt taken aback for a moment; the sincerity in her voice shocked him, as he'd crossed few that set out for nothing more than personal gain.
"I am Hawke," she continued, with a smile that almost made him weak at the knees. "Is there anything else we can do for you?" She gestured to the group of people she was with – friends? Accomplices? It felt rude of him to ask, to be so direct.
He opened his mouth to say no, thank you, but his brain changed tack at the last second as his mind wandered to Danarius's manor in Hightown.
"Yes there is one more thing, and I will forever be in your debt."
oOo
Danarius wasn't there. After forcing entrance into his mansion and fighting through various defences and endless Shades, he was nowhere to be seen. The first thing Fenris felt was relief – his former master was absent, the mansion empty, and he felt glad that he wasn't being pushed into what felt like another eternity as a slave, a private bodyguard, anything Danarius wanted, all his whims. But then fear weighed in the elf's stomach. Where was Danarius? The whole situation seemed immediately suspicious and… odd. Why wasn't his master here to reclaim his 'stolen property'?
Fenris looked around the vast room, numb, before exiting the mansion. He was sure that the dwarf – Varric? – tried to speak to him as he left, but the elf was barely listening. Dark had really fallen now; Hightown was quiet, but this alerted Fenris to the smaller noise mere metres away. Every breath of wind sounded like whispers, and every rustle of trees a small of army of slavers awaiting to ambush him suddenly. Eventually Hawke finally came out the front door, companions in tow. But there was something else now bothering him on top of Danarius.
"It never ends," Fenris said bitterly, glaring down at his feet. "I escaped a life of magic only for it to hunt me at every turn." He directed his gaze to the blond mage before him as the latter twirled his staff idly in hand.
"I do have a name you know," said the mage irritably, hitting the cobblestoned ground with his staff, causing sparks to fly from the tip. Varric and the others eyed it somewhat nervously, and the red-headed guardswoman narrowed her eyes at the weapon.
Hawke laid a comforting hand on the mage's shoulder, and for some reason this incensed Fenris more. He clenched his jaw momentarily before saying, "I will follow if you have use for me. I am truly in your debt."
The mage snorted sceptically, rolling his eyes. Fenris quite wanted to punch him in his smug face, but it wasn't the mage's debt he was in.
"It's okay, Anders," Hawke said, with an encouraging smile, then turning to Fenris. "If you think having a mage in the party isn't a problem, then welcome aboard." She had said it nicely enough, but Fenris knew that there was an underlying warning – he would leave the party before the mage did.
The elf jerked his head in acknowledgement, and a small smile tugged at Hawke's lips. Fenris did his utmost to ignore the feeling in his stomach, where it seemed a large flock of butterflies had been released. "If you require need for me, I will be residing in Danarius's mansion – until he decides to claim it."
And he swept inside without another word, though the image of Hawke's delicate face was imprinted in his mind.
"Cheer up, Blondie," Fenris heard Varric say on the other side of the door, "the broody elf isn't that bad."
"Speak for yourself," Anders said huffily as they began to leave.
oOo
She was stood above him, wrapped in a red robe made of fine Orlesian silk, wrapped loosely around her narrow waist. The low light of the candles in Fenris' bedroom threw her curves into more relief, and flattered the soft contours of her face. He moved up the bed as Hawke came closer, and felt his breeches become more taught as his crotch grew hard.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked with some trepidation. His whispered voice permeated the silence and echoed slightly around the room.
"Oh, yes," purred Hawke, tugging gently at the sash on the robe. "I've wanted to do this for a very long time, Fenris."
The elf felt his length strain against the fabric of his breeches when she spoke his name, shivers of anticipation rolling down his spine. He opened his mouth to speak, but found himself lost for words as Hawke gave a final tug on the robe. The silk fell from her shoulders in soft waves, before landing silently into a pool at her feet. She stepped out of the material and sat astride Fenris, leaning forward so that her pert nipples brushed his bare chest. He felt his hips buck involuntarily, trying to lessen the distance between them, feeling her moistness meet the fabric of his trousers. She raised her hips more – on the contrary, she seemed rather keen for the distance be greater between them.+
"Good things come to those who wait," she whispered in his ear, gently nibbling on the lobe. A soft moan escaped his lips. How he ached to be inside of her!
"Hawke, please," he groaned, placing his hands on either side of her hips. Suddenly, she grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head, nuzzling his snow white hair. She trailed soft kisses on his cheek, to his mouth, onto his chest, tracing the lyrium markings with her tongue. They flared momentarily as he felt ripples of pleasure shudder through his body. He pulled against her hold, but she only tightened it. He said nothing – he wasn't about to beg. He remembered as a slave, he was to speak only if spoken to, and here before him was a woman who wanted him to beg for release.
He let out a feral growl, before yanking his hands away from her vice-like grip and tossing her over onto her back. For a split second her composure slipped as Fenris now held Hawke's hands above her head. Those liquid topaz eyes looked back at him impassively, twinkling as she blatantly enjoyed this new turn of events. She lifted her head to kiss him passionately.
"What will you have me do, ser?" she breathed, her bosom heaving and mouth moist from their kiss.
Ser? Fenris thought. The word was alien in this context, this human woman calling an escaped elven slave ser. But he took it in his stride the best he could, and let go of the tight grasp he'd had on Hawke's wrists before untying his breeches. He threw them in a corner somewhere of the room – where exactly he didn't care in this present moment. His length sprung free from its prison, the tip wet from arousal. Hawke bit her lip seductively, and it was all Fenris could do not to thrust fast and deep inside her. As calmly as possible, he commanded, "Suck."
Hawke obliged. She sat up and pushed Fenris down onto the bed gently, before straddling him again.
"I like this game," she whispered, kissing from the base of this throat down, never breaking eye contact. He felt himself flex as she moved to the top of his cock, flicking her tongue across the head. He closed his eyes, feeling her hot breath along his length, then licking from the bottom of his balls to the end of his cock before enveloping it with her mouth.
Fenris laid his head back with a groan, lifting his hips up to thrust himself deeper into her mouth. Hawke gagged, but this turned him on more. He glanced down and saw those honey eyes looking back at him, her gaze laced with lustful want, her mouth working his cock. She didn't tear her gaze away even as she took the whole of his shaft and her eyes watered slightly with effort not to choke. He laid his hands on her head, feeling his climax near with every thrust of his hips. His eyes closed in a state of ecstasy as he pushed to the brink of orgasm, then finally falling over the edge, his hot seed filling Hawke's mouth. Letting out a ragged breath, Fenris laid back on the bed, arms falling at his sides and a thin sheen of perspiration covering his body. Hawke lay next to him, but not quite touching.
"You look warm," she said, blowing a cool waft of air onto his face. It felt pleasant and his eyes closed again; she did this for some time until he began to shiver.
"Hawke, I am cold," Fenris said irritably, opening one eye to look at her. Still she didn't cease, as her breath became more forceful. "Hawke!"
Fenris woke up in his bed in Danarius' manor in the pitch black of the room, shuddering. It took a moment for him to realise it was a dream, and another moment for him to discover that a strong gust of wind was now whistling through one of the broken window panes.
Furious with himself for fantasising about such things, he stoked the fire and wrapped himself in blankets, squeezing his eyes shut and praying for a dreamless, Hawke-free sleep until morning.