This is the first of the prompts I'll be uploading under this title. For the curious, I've included more information about Silk in my profile.

For a prompt requesting Hawke being a physically affectionate person, while Fenris is not accustomed to such contact.

Pairing: m!rogue!Hawke/Fenris

Rating: M/R

Warnings: None

Sex, it turns out, is not the difficult part.

At least that's the thought which enters Hawke's mind as he watches Fenris sleep.

The elf lies on his back, one hand in a fist curled over the lyrium lines on his chest, and white hair falls over his face, almost in his eyes. A frown appears on Fenris' face and his lips tighten, and Hawke knows his dreams are not pleasant and even though he could reach out and brush away white hair and break the dream's hold, he doesn't.

They both have their night terrors. His are of the Templars taking Bethany or Carver falling to the ogre, and the only answer he's ever received from Fenris is a sidelong glance that placed the question firmly in the realm of the past. They both have their terrors and the worst way to be woken from such is with a careless touch.

Of course Hawke realizes it's a remarkable thing in of itself, that the elf should feel secure enough to allow the vulnerability of falling asleep together, even if Fenris still insists on sleeping nearest the door, sword leaned near the headboard. Hawke can't fault this either, though; his daggers are always within reach and there's a throwing knife under his pillow.

The difficulty came, not particularly surprisingly, with touch. Not the physical contact that was Fenris beneath him, rocking back against Hawke's slow, steady thrusts and crying out Hawke's name, but the casual touch that Hawke had -with admittedly a great deal of naiveté- expected to come part and parcel with this new intimacy.

He'd made the mistake earlier in the day of looping his arms around Fenris and pulling him into an embrace, only to have Fenris freeze, his muscles twitching as though he were ready to bolt. To say the hug had been a failure was an understatement.

"You're watching me."

The words aren't spoken loudly, but still they surprise him. Fenris' eyes are closed, his dark eyelashes fanned over dark skin, but his breathing has changed and the frown has disappeared.

"Sorry," Hawke rolls to his back, looking at the ceiling's mold and crack-creased tiles.

"Why?"

Hawke hears the brush of fabric on skin and when he glances sideways Fenris is leaning on his elbow, looking at him critically. There is no anger in either question or expression, but there is the wariness Hawke's come to recognize as Fenris' reaction to the unknown.

"Thinking. Sorry."

"Hnn," the sound is drawn out, as critical as a stare, and even though it seems like not the time, Hawke can't deny way it makes something coil in his chest.

"It won't happen again. Going to sleep now," Hawke says this too quickly, closing his eyes and feeling almost like a child who should be issuing fake snores to prove how asleep he was.

"It is too late to retreat," Fenris' voice is decidedly closer and Hawke wonders if he imagines the heat that radiates from him. There is still the wariness in Fenris' tone and Hawke is learning that vulnerability comes in sizes and forms which are not related to falling asleep with a lover in one's bed.

He sighs and opens his eyes. The mold and cracks look back with a critical stare all of their own. "I didn't mean to startle you today."

There is a long pause. "Ah."

There is nothing to be gleaned -other than another twist of desire in his gut- from the sound. A quick glance tells him all he needs to know, that Fenris is quite close and a furrow has formed between his eyes. So, it was an ah that meant Fenris was still wary or perhaps it meant nothing at all, other than Hawke could feel blood moving at a time which seems rather like rather unfortunate -or at least rude- timing.

Hawke sighs again, but this time he makes a useless gesture with one hand, as though a hand-wave could fix this. Even if he were a mage -where hand waving was not so useless- he doubts there is a spell to counteract general awkwardness or for easing an unwanted erection. "I didn't realize it would bother you that much. That also won't happen again."

Another long silence where Hawke wonders if the mold is growing as he stares.

"It did not 'bother' me," Fenris says.

Hawke dares look away from the ceiling and now Fenris has edged close enough that when Hawke turns his head Fenris is close enough to kiss. He can see the tiny lines around the elf's eyes when they narrow and he knows Fenris is intent on whatever goal he has set.

"Oh. I… see," Hawke says, and thinks -much like useless hand waving- the statement that comes out in a slightly choked manner is so very helpful in smoothing this conversation. It is utterly wrong of him to be aroused by Fenris' nearness when he needs something entirely different and Hawke winces at the sound of his own voice.

"While it was unexpected, I understand the intent." This is said much more softly and it occurs to Hawke that while he hadn't misread the wariness, he had misread the cause because Fenris slides his arm around Hawke's shoulders and pulls them together.

It is awkward and stiff and it fills his eyes with Fenris' hair, and while it is not what Hawke would have typically considered a proper hug, he has long since come to realize things such as typical did not apply to Fenris.

He wraps his arm around Fenris' back, stroking warm skin and tense muscle and the places left unmarked by the past. He feels a tremor go through Fenris and a hot exhale of air against his chest and then muscle and tendon relax and he can't help but place a careful kiss on the crown of soft white hair.

"Thank you," he says and although it's not the most eloquent of statements he doesn't feel the least bit like wincing at the emotion which makes his voice sound as though his chest is being compressed.

It's a further surprise when Fenris pulls himself a bit closer and slips one leg over Hawke's hips. Even through the linen pants he sleeps in, the press of Fenris' leg against his cock pulls an involuntary groan from him.

Fenris pulls away enough to look at Hawke with eyes narrowed in what can only be called amusement.

"Sorry," Hawke says, even though it feels it's all he's said tonight.

"Hnn," is all Fenris says as one corner of his mouth twitches before he lowers his head to gently kiss Hawke's shoulder. "Unexpected, not unwelcome."

And it occurs to Hawke perhaps things will not be so difficult after all.

The lovely prompter of this story drew art for it! I've linked to it in my profile. It's adorable and wonderful and made me *squee* and *sniffle*, all in the space of a few seconds.