A/N: I had the thought, just where would a reading lesson with Fenris go? Just a one-shot lemony fluff that's been rolling around in my head for the past few days. Read, enjoy, leave a review (I love those ^_^) if you wish, but please, no flames. though constructive suggestions are much appreciated. [Disclaimer: I own positively nothing except a laptop and a rat terrier ;) ].

Fenris stared into the flames of his fireplace, a gauntlet tapping impatiently against the wooden armrest of his chair. Hawke was late, if only by a few minutes. The elf may not admit it to anyone, he cherished these all too brief evenings with her. He was an intelligent man; he knew her heart was far from recovering his cowardly retreat from her more than three years ago now. That night haunted him; the feel of her against him, the smile as she had gazed down at him, how her wine-colored curls had whispered against his skin as she had leaned down-

Even after three years, Hawke never strayed far from his thoughts…or his heart. He didn't delude himself into thinking that she still felt the same, however. Things had changed, the city had changed, and especially true, Hawke had changed.

Since the death of her mother, she had rarely spoken to anyone unless it was to bark orders or offer comfort to a penniless stranger in need. No, the kindness that had once given him hope where none could be found was still there in her mercurial eyes. Though, one would have to stare a very long time to see it anymore. After finally killing the man who had haunted his every waking moment, the only thing he had wanted to see was Hawke's gorgeous smile. To be honest, it had surprised him. He had thought that he would have felt something akin to elation when he had seen the life drain from his former master's face, but it was not so. Instead, he had turned to look at Hawke in triumph, only to have his fierce green gaze met with an empty one.

Still, the hope he had thought long dead had soared when she had simply, quietly reminded him that she would always be there for him when he needed her. For a split second, the old Hawke was standing there in that bloodied bar, looking at him in the same way she had that night three years ago. Even then, his heart had begun to hammer and his body to ache just to hold her close, to be able to comfort one another. But he hadn't; he had only smiled, nodded, and that look in her eyes faded as quickly as it had come.

He jerked out of his seat when he heard the front door open, his hands already grasping the hilt of his sword. Fenris forced himself to relax when he recognized Hawke's footsteps. She walked with a deliberate tread when she came over, a simple way to let him know who it was; a little thing she had always done, like so many other gestures that expressed her feelings for him. Fenris had tried very hard to keep things platonic between them since he had left her home that night, but she was a persistent woman. The thought made the corner of his lips quirk up in amusement. Would he love her if she tried to be something other than what she was?

And Maker help him, but he did love her. Hawke was a soothing balm for his scarred soul, like she was too so many other people. Yet, she had never turned those silvery eyes on anyone else like she had looked at him so long ago. He had watched her, torn between dread and hope that she would find someone else, another man that could be everything she needed and that he could not be. She hadn't pressed him and he was grateful for that. He let his train of thought go with his sword as she walked through the doorway, a blue leather book under her arm. Though she was only dressed in a simple green tunic and pants, he knew it was deceptive. She kept numerous knives about her person at all times. She once told him jokingly that it was because she had always had to fend off the suitors that flocked to court her sister. Fenris knew differently. He had seen one of those knives thud dully into a man's eye from two hundred paces.

It sounded impressive unless one knew just how much had been riding on that throw.

"Hello, Fenris," her soft voice snapped him back to the present.

He smiled briefly and nodded to her.

"I'm glad you made it, Hawke. I was beginning to wonder if you were coming by tonight."

She quirked a brow at him, toeing out of her boots to pad towards him.

"I'm not that late, you know. I would have been here earlier, but Merril insisted that I teach her how I make the coin dance across my knuckles. She even barred the door!"

He snorted, gesturing for her to sit in the chair beside him.

"She is too easily entertained, that one."

"Don't be so harsh," Hawke chided as she accepted his invitation to sit.

He didn't reply, not wanting to debate with her about mages again. That had been unpleasant the first time they had argued over the subject. Fenris had yet to replace the door to the living area, though he had managed to find and dispose of most of what had remained. He really hadn't expected her to draw her bow and fire at it in rage, but then he hadn't expected a lot of things from her over the years. How often she managed to prove him wrong.

He looked down at the book she held in her lap.

"What book will I be reading tonight?"

Hawke grinned mischievously at him and Fenris felt suddenly wary.

"Hawke," he growled, the warning clear in his tone.

"It's nothing awful, Fenris. It's only an Orlesian adventure story. It's about the Knight of the Rose, in fact."

He nodded and cocked his head to the side, a habit he had picked up from her. He was looking at the large tome rather nervously.

"How difficult is it?"

"This one isn't as challenging as the last one. I think you'll actually be able to read the whole thing with very little trouble."

As she spoke, she opened the book, flipping the pages deftly till she found the spot she wanted him to begin. Finding it with nimble fingers, she stood. Fenris seemed taken aback when she immediately sat down again, facing away from him and on the floor between his knees. Hawke knew this was a huge gamble, but she truly missed being physically close to him. In the old days, it was nothing for her to brush a hand against his arm in affection. He had even returned it on some occasions. As friends, things had been so much less complicated than they were now and she was very hopeful that he wouldn't take this as her pushing him farther than he wished.

She turned her head to look up at him over her shoulder, giving him her best innocent face. Isabela and Merril had been helping her practice, for use against templars, of course.

"Sit behind me, this way you can see over my shoulder instead of having to make me move my head all the time," she said cheerfully, biting her lower lip as she finished speaking.

Fenris's eyes seemed to lock on to her mouth and she saw him swallow hard before nodding. She turned back around. Hawke heard the sound of him removing his gauntlets, and then the heavy chair scraped against the floor. Each of his long legs was on either side of her as he very carefully sat down behind her. She scooted back until her bum met the back of his thighs and Fenris tried not to think about where that pretty little arse of hers was coming into contact with. He was leaning against the chair and she followed him until her back was tucked against his chest. She wiggled a little, adjusting her position and he bit back a groan. The warmth from her slight frame felt scorching as her bare arm touched his, sending a tiny shock through him. Hawke reached up, tucked some stray curls behind her ear and he could see the page she had opened to.

"Chapter eight, 'The Dragon's Wrath'," he read aloud slowly, grateful for something to distract him. Hawke nodded encouragingly.

For a while, they remained that way; Fenris reading from the book and Hawke occasionally chiming in to correct something or to give him the right word. The feel of his lanky body against hers felt heavenly, even if he was still in his armor. Maker, she had missed being so near to him. He smelled like a mixture of metal and earth, which brought back a flood of memories. She had rested her head against his chest as he read, daring to snuggle against him just the tiniest bit. He hadn't seemed to notice, so she turned her face slightly towards his, the top of her head brushing under his chin a little. His voice was rich and smooth, a rumble that she felt more than heard, making her ache with both need and sadness. She shifted her lower body against him again, trying to get more comfortable and sighed in contentment. That was when he stopped suddenly, clearing his throat. She quickly moved from him.

"You were doing fine. What's wrong?"

He didn't meet her eyes and she could see a trace of pink around his ears.

"I…I would like to hear you read the rest of this chapter. I will follow as you speak."

She nodded, much to his relief, and turned back towards the book; this was going to be the death of him. He had felt every tiny movement of her body, each breath she had taken, as clearly as his own heartbeat. He had been able to concentrate until he had felt that little puff of breath against his throat, his focus faltering. All at once, he had become painfully aware of every part of her body that touched his own. For her part, she seemed oblivious to the effect she was having on him. Fenris felt his eyes drawn to her lips instead of the page. He watched them form the words, but he was remembering the silken feel of them against his own, how sweet they had tasted. He hadn't even realized he had been inching his face closer to hers until he felt her hair tickle the tip of his nose.

He allowed himself a small smile as he heard her voice catch when he breathed softly against her ear, his nose bumping the shell of it gently. Hawke dutifully kept reading to him, but Fenris's mind was on other things. She paused to take a breath and he watched as her small, pink tongue dart out to wet her dry lips.

That one action was his undoing.

Fenris carefully reached his long arms around her and placed his hands over hers, shutting the book firmly. He then deftly plucked it from her grasp and set it on the rug beside them before wrapping his arms around her in a loose embrace. Eyes wide with disbelief, Hawke turned her head to look at him, searching his face for some clue of his intentions.

"Fenris?"

He didn't reply. Hawke suppressed the shudder that raced down her spine as he stared at her. The careful, meticulous elf that she knew was gone and had been replaced with something that felt vaguely predatory. His eyes had a glint to them she had only seen once and the memory of that night still caused heat to flash straight to her core.

She realized that her next movement could very well decide the course of the rest of her life. She had one chance to stop now, get up and walk out the door or she could let this happen.

Well, she never was a prudent person.

She closed the few inches between them and pressed her mouth chastely to his, before pulling back to see his reaction.

His eyes went so dark they could have been black, a hunger reflected in them that made her heart flip. Hawke heard him mutter something in elvish, but then his lips were against hers again hungrily and she promptly forgot to think about anything else.

Fenris felt like he was on fire. All these years of her dancing through his dreams, of waking up in an empty bed and now she was here again, in his arms. It sent flames licking through his veins to pool low in his belly. He angled his head, deepening the kiss and she parted her lips for him. Fenris tightened his grip around her waist as he felt her tongue tentatively brush against his, making him groan. Maker, she tasted good. Blood was roaring in his ears and he felt her hands glide up his chest to his shoulders as one of his own tangled in her hair, holding her closer. They broke apart for air and Hawke rapidly twisted in his arms, rising to her knees between his legs, her curls falling forward like a curtain.

Hawke felt Fenris's hands grip her hips possessively as she leaned down to kiss him again, their lips touching, dancing away, only to return, until neither of them could tell where one ended and another began. She moaned when his mouth skimmed down her jaw, to kiss down her neck, his arms wrapping around her waist once more and she arched into him, gasping when he nipped at her collarbone. She threaded her fingers through the white strands of his hair, letting her head fall back as his mouth did wicked, wicked things against the exposed skin of her throat.

"Fenris…" she whispered and his hands flexed against the soft cotton of her tunic in response to the huskiness of her tone. Didn't she understand what the sound of her saying his name that way did to him?

Hawke didn't even really realize he had moved until her body was pressed between the warm rug and Fenris's lean, muscular frame. He had pinned her arms above her head with one hand, while the other snaked its way beneath the hem of her shirt, his palm smoothing over the skin of her stomach heatedly. Jade orbs blazed down at her and he leaned close to her ear.

"Say it again," he growled, a low rumble that sent a shiver chasing down her spine. She arched up into him and whispered his name once more. He leaned his face close to hers, their breath mingling as his lips hovered scant inches above hers.

"I'm going to make you scream that before I'm done with you," he said, the absolute promise in his words and the kiss that followed sending a lance of molten fire through her.

She writhed beneath him, tugging at her wrists trapped in his strong grip. With his free hand, he slid her tunic up as he nipped and licked a hot trail down to the portion of her chest that wasn't hidden by her shirt. Frustrated by the offending article of clothing that concealed what he desired to see and touch, Fenris released her, pulling the shirt up and over her head. Then her hands were at the buckles that kept his armor in place. Nimbly, she undid them one by one as his mouthed blazed across her shoulder down to the slopes of her breasts, making her moan. Within a moment, his torso was bare, gooseflesh pebbling along the corded muscle when Hawke's fingers traced the intricate patterns of his markings. She scraped her thumbnails lightly against his nipples and he shuddered over her, his desire pressing insistently against her thigh.

As she explored his upper body, Fenris worshiped hers. He pulled her breast-band away from her chest, dipping his head and swirled his tongue around one coral bud before taking it into his mouth and suckling gently. She cried out and he felt his already straining manhood twitch painfully against his trousers. He switched to the other, intoxicated by the taste and scent of her soft skin.

Not wanting him to have the upper hand, Hawke reached between them and stroked her palm firmly against his hardness. Fenris's hips bucked involuntarily and he growled a warning, making her smile wickedly. She did it again and he groaned, making the warmth in her stomach flare. When he began to kiss his way back up her body, Hawke boldly slipped her fingers past the band of his trousers and ran them from base to tip. His head jerked up and he hissed a breath between his teeth.

"You're treading dangerously, Hawke," he managed to grate out hoarsely.

"Have I ever done anything else?" she murmured as she rained butterfly kisses along his jaw. A strained sound was his only response, because those damnably clever fingers of hers had wrapped themselves around him and were squeezing in an easy rhythm that was steadily driving him mad. The feather-light touch of her lips grazing his chest only intensified what her hands were up to and he couldn't hold back the moan of pleasure when her tongue flicked at a nipple. She worked her mouth further down his abdomen, letting her tongue glide where her hands had been only moments before. Hawke had managed to slip her legs between his while he was distracted, seductively running a foot along his calf, mimicking the slow movement of her fingers and lips.

When her heel touched the back of his knee, she ran one hand up to his shoulder and pushed, flipping them over. Fenris grunted in surprise then chuckled appreciatively.

"I keep forgetting how agile-,"he started as he rested on his elbows, but stopped short.

She had nothing on but a smile as she stood near his feet.

He burned the image into his memory. Maker's Breath, how could he have forgotten just how amazing she was? His eyes raked over her full curves and he swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly very dry. The firelight danced over her naked body, Hawke's hair cascading in ringlets past her shoulders, a dark contrast to fair skin dusted with freckles. Her eyes were half closed, dilated, dark, and full of an emotion that he knew was nestled warmly in his own heart. She was the most beautiful thing he would ever see.

She dropped to her knees and he lifted his hips obligingly as she slid off the last of his clothes. When she had tossed them aside, she started to crawl back over his body and Fenris found he couldn't look away. She dropped a kiss just above his knee, then another and another, slowly moving towards her goal. The elf's eyes were raptly attentive, his manhood twitching slightly when she reached it, hovering over him. She let out a soft breath and placed her lips against the tip. Hawke gave it the tiniest lick, feeling a swell of feminine pride when his eyes rolled back, his body trembling with the effort of keeping itself under control.

It snapped when she slid her mouth over him and sucked. Fenris jerked upright, grabbing her arms and pulling her into his lap.

"Enough," he growled, gripping her hips and entered her with one sharp upward thrust, both of them moaning against the others lips at how intensely wonderful it felt. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned her forehead against his, grateful that he waited for her body to adjust even as she knew his own instincts screamed at him to move. After a moment of just savoring the feel of him inside her, she initiated, rocking her hips forward. He groaned out her name and she tried to move again, but his hands kept her still.

"Wait…wait for just another minute, love," he panted.

It had been too long for both of them, she realized and relented. Finally, after what seemed like an age, he pulled his hips back and thrust forward, then again, and again, gradually finding a rhythm. The room became filled with the sounds of their combined moans, whispered endearments in both Tenvinter and Fereldan. Neither had to understand the other to know what was said. Hawke moved with him, the heat between her legs spiraling outwards to envelop her entire body. Like waves against the shore, with each movement, the sensation deepened, widened, till it threatened to consume her.

"Fenris!" she screamed as she peaked, trembling, wave after wave crashing over her. Fenris felt the heat in his lower abdomen tightening as her inner muscles squeezed around his length. He began to pump his hips hard and fast. The heat that had been building in him suddenly exploded and Fenris called out her name as he reached his own climax, thrusting erratically a few times as warmth bloomed inside her.

Panting heavily, he laid back and she spread herself over his chest while he held her, his fingers drawing lazy circles on her back. Content and sated, she nuzzled the base of his throat. Hawke raised her head to look up at her lover to find him staring down at her.

"What?"

"I…I just wanted to tell you that I-"

She shook her head.

"You said that already, remember?"

He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"I didn't realize you had learned to understand Tevinter in the last hour."

"Didn't have to," she replied with a bemused smile.

Fenris nodded, grinning crookedly himself, cupping the back of her neck and pulling her up for a quick, sweet kiss.

Maker, if only he could always be the reason she smiled. It lit her face and her eyes in a way that reminded him of moonlight breaking through the clouds; a soft radiance that never blinded, only illuminated the way home.