[Lots of mature content! You're warned. By the way, helpful criticism appreciated. :) ]
Honestly, Hawke loved sex. She loved the flirting before the sex, the foreplay heralding the sex, the actual fucking, and the sated, weary sensation that concluded the deed. Hawke... loved sex. She hadn't found love yet, and she wasn't sure she needed it, if she were to be true to her own feelings. As long as she could have sex.
She had tested the waters in Ferelden with some boys and a girl she had grown up with in Lothering, but in Kirkwall, (the only place that seemed to matter anymore), Jethann had been the first. How could she have refused the enticing offer of the blue-eyed elf? He had been skilled, and pleasuring people had been his talent, which he had acquired much expertise in. It had meant nothing at all.
Isabella had been her second in Kirkwall. Ah, Isabella. Hawke did admit to herself, she had grown to love the seductive pirate, but in a very close friendly way... She was more like a sister... A sister with benefits. Hawke smirked at that thought, locking her fingers behind her head as she walked through lowtown, in the general direction of the docks. She was the very image of a cool, collected rebel apostate, with cropped white hair, slitted gray eyes, and tight, form-fitting armor. She was also, if you looked close enough, the very image of a nymphomaniac.
Third had come Anders. With Anders, Hawke learned that not all others viewed sex as a fun past time. She had severely and cruelly hurt the gentle healer with her rejection, and to this day, he would not meet her gaze. It had been months... maybe half a year. She regretted him the most.
Fourth had been different from the others. There had been emotions in it, maybe even the beginnings of love, and that slight contrast between past lovers had made that one night more explosively passionate than any other escapade. Fenris... had been a rough and dark lover, one who had hate of her magic, mixed with love for her being. And there had been love in him. The way the branded elf had stared at her, the way his moss eyes ached with some... need beyond sex... that maybe she had been willing to give. But he had ran with the first light, like shadows in the corners of her room that disappeared in the sunlight. She didn't have the patience to wait... If he ever wanted to come back to her, she would welcome him, but for now, she was looking for a new lover.
She had sex with Isabella again... and again... and again... Really, Isabella was the only constant lover in her life. She had almost had sex with Merril, but it had... felt wrong... Merril, in her eyes, was an adorable mabari puppy... or a small child...Hawke prefered being her friend.
But yes, on the whole, on the greatest whole, Hawke enjoyed the hell out of sex, repurcussions included.
"Thinking about your handsome, trusty dwarf, Hawke?"
At the sound of Varric's voice, Hawke turned her head slightly and gave him a smirk. Varric... Why had she never thought of Varric before in that way? Now that the thought crossed her mind, it was becoming more and more appealing... He was incredibly attractive, despite the height difference between them both... and she had never done a dwarf before...
"Perhaps I was." Her gray eyes scanned his masculine face with a prolonged heat, before looking in front of her once more to make sure she didn't collide with someone in the street. She couldn't help the smile that curled her lips at the expression of mild surprise on his usually dry, calm face.
"Well, who doesn't?" he finally replied, tone sarcastic as usual. "There are many things to think about when I am the subject of thought."
"Like hairiness?" Isabella interjected casually.
"I hear you like that, Rivaini."
As Isabella protested in a way that did not help her case, Merril added hesitantly, "And great story telling? Ooooh and a big heart!" She laughed and smiled genuinely at Varric, who was smirking smugly.
"See, Daisy gets me."
"What about sex appeal?" Hawke added blatantly.
There was shocked silence in the party as they moved along, but finally Varric said, "You lack tact, Hawke. I believe the tradition is to write sappy poetry and give me flowers."
"Sex appeal?" Isabella scoffed. "Maybe of a... well, a dwarf. Are you really going after Varric next?" She sounded incredulous.
"Hey, Riviani, if you haven't spent a night with a dwarf, you are missing out... You don't think we came from the stone for nothing, do you?"
Isabella opened her mouth to reply, but shut it closed as she appraised Varric with a sudden light in her eyes that she only placed on three in the party: Hawke herself, Fenris, and Sebastian.
"Did I miss something dirty again? I really hate this... Can't you speak, you know... about flowers and the weather and cute animals... I gave a little kitten some milk, and now she hangs around my house... She is so adorable..." Merril gave everyone a bright smile from the back of the party, and Varric patted her shoulder warmly while Isabella stopped and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. Hawke turned and gave Merril a tight hug before walking on.
They reached the docks at around 2 in the afternoon, and Hawke immediately headed for the quanari compound. She would have prefered having Fenris with her, since he knew so much about the Qun, but she still felt like not being near him. He had hurt her just a little... considering that he had been the first she had ever had feelings for.
"I, uh, have people to do, things to see, so I will be going," Isabella said, turning back around and disappearing into the crowd.
"She does that... every time," Hawke said, scowling. "You would think I would remember to not bring her."
"It's a bit suspicious to be honest," Varric added in a low voice. "What does she have to hide from the Qunari?"
"Well... they are a little frightening... She might just have a phobia of Qunari."
"More probably she has a Qunari fetish and she can't control herself around them," Varric muttered.
Hawke glanced up the stairs and let her eyes graze quickly over the big, muscled form of the kossith guard at the wood gate. "Well... I'm finding it hard myself."
"You are a bit like Isabella... but with more taste. And you should probably avoid our large, horned friends. I hear they are womanizers."
She ignored him and headed up the stairs. The guard opened the gate without a word and Hawke led Merril and Varric through the qunari compound to the Arishok.
"I wonder what would happen if you tickled one..." Merril said outloud thoughtfully, glancing around her at the many kossith standing stoicly around their living quarters.
"I'll let you know when I try it, Merril," Hawke replied, smirking at the idea.
She came to a halt at the base of the steps leading up to the Arishok's chair. He was sitting there, head bowed and rested in his hands. His large, curved horns were shining in the afternoon light, his silver hair hanging around his face like a curtain. No one spoke to announce her arrival, but after a long moment of awkward quiet, the Arishok stood, amber hued eyes staring down intensely at Hawke, and no one else.
"Hawke," he said cooly in his growling voice. "You came." He struck an impressive figure at the peak of the stairs, a giant on a pedastal, looking quite a bit more intimidating at such a height. At
"Couldn't do much else, could I?" she replied dryly. A smile did not turn up the corner of his pale lips.
"No, I suppose you could not."
Hawke did not appreciate that answer. She could have very well ignored him if she so wished, his pretentious bullshit be damned. She was not afraid of anyone, not even the Arishok of the Qunari.
He seemed to pay no heed to the sudden sour expression on her face. "I would like to speak to you in private."
Varric tensed. He did not like the sound of that request... Hawke, however, appeared to be perfectly calm as she answered, "Whatever you have to say, you can say to my friends as well."
There was no visible change in any of the gray-skinned faces surrounding them, but Hawke suddenly felt the tension rise in the air like an invisible net tightening around her body. There was a long, strained moment of silence, before the Arishok finally said, "I have something of great import, and I would have you, and you alone, know it."
"Don't," Varric muttered under his breath. Hawke was inclined to agree with the dwarf, but something in the Arishok's eyes pulled her. After a long moment she replied. "I will speak with you then, Arishok."
"Follow me," he said, turning and heading behind his throne to a door slightly to the right. Another, lower-ranked qunari opened the door, and the Arishok had to bend down to fit through the doorway. There were no qunari sized guest quarters in Kirkwall, she supposed.
Hawke began to go up the stairs, but she felt a large, calloused hand grab her own, holding her back. She turned to see Varric's concerned eyes staring up into her own. "Damn it, Hawke, who knows what the hell he wants? Do you realize how much larger he is than you? Do you realize what he could do to you?"
Hawke smiled slowly at him, oddly touched by his worry. "Varric, he can't do anything with me. I'm a bad ass, remember?" Before Varric could reply to that, she bent down and gently kissed his stubbly cheek. "I'll probably be back soon, but you two go on back to the Hanged Man or something. No use in you waiting. Don't miss me too much."
She reached out and touched Merril's arm warmly before turning and heading up the stairs, following the Arishok into the candle-lit hallway behind his throne.
The inner compound was dark and gloomy, only illuminated by flickering candle flames. Her eyes had to adjust to the dim lighting, but when it did, she saw the Arishok's big form looming at the end of the hall, waiting for her silently. She was no frightened, because she simply did not get frightened, but she was a wary person. She reached inside herself and grasped the magic in her blood, ready for whatever might come.
She walked after the Arishok, and when she caught up with him, he seemed to be studying her face in the darkness. She wondered if qunari had better night-vision than humans, but he suddenly turned and headed down another shadowed hallway on the right. For nearly a minute, their footsteps pattered on the stone floor. They passed a few qunari, and many closed doors, but nothing appeared particularly threatening. They even nodded to her in greeting as they passed eachother.
At the very end of the hallway was another door, and the Arishok entered it, stepping aside to hold the door open for her. She stepped into a bright room, lit with many candles and a few torches. It had rich possessions that must have been the Arishok's: huge chests, thick tapestries depicting an unknown city with unknown kossith going about their day, of outlandish throne rooms with three "kings" sitting upon thrones similiar to the Arishok's, and of a strange land of jungles, mountains, and an ocean strewn with qunari warships. There was a large bed with a thick red canopy shrouding the mattress from view, and to the left of the bed was a balcony overlooking the docks. The sound of seabirds and people talking reached her ears through the open shutters.
"Nice living space you have here," she commented casually, turning to the Arishok as he shut the door behind them. Her chest tightened as his vast, clawed hand locked the door, but she forced her expression to remain serene. He turned to her, his amber eyes studying her once more, intense and penetrating. She had to admit to herself, that gaze made her stomach flip, but not from fear. Far from fear, actually. "What did you have in mind for a conversation, Arishok? We could get to know each other, you know... Talk about our pasts and our dreams and wishes... No? Alright."
"This human tendency for sarcasm is absurd. You either do it to feed your selfish egoes, or to hide your true thoughts in a defensive, cowardly manner. I wonder as to your reason for speaking in riddles." His voice was cool... if that voice could be described as cool. It was all sharp edges and rough tone, with underlying emotion and passion. It was incredibly hot right now, in his locked bedroom, with nothing holding them apart except her standards, (which were miniscule), and his... well, that was a big dragon in the room: His qun.
"I never thought of it that way... I don't know why I do it. Just a habit from my childhood that dies hard. I don't think there is a deep, philosophical meaning behind it. I'm just a smart ass. It's nothing personal to you." Why was she talking to him like an old aquaintance? Was she stupid? Or were her instincts telling her something?
If he was surprised by her friendliness, he did not reveal it to her in any fashion.
"You are an unbound... You are highly dangerous, with connections to magic in your blood, yet you walk around free, and with even a high foothold in your society."
"It's a precarious foothold. The stone's crumbling everywhere." She locked her fingers behind her head casually, tapping first one boot on the floow toe first, and then the other.
He ignored her. "By everything that is right, you should be in a collar. But you are unbound. The stupidity of your society will forever shock me."
"Is that your shocked face?" she asked curiously, standing on her tiptoes, peering across the few feet into his face. "It looks more like your hard-ass face."
A growl rumbled in his chest and he took a step forward as if he wanted to throttle her. She simply stared at him, calm as if he had made a laugh instead of a pissed animalistic noise.
"Not only these things, but you are a female."
"I am? I had no idea, honestly."
He closed his eyes for a moment, as if regaining his composure, before opening them once more and continuing.
"Females do not talk to males in such a way as you do. You do not fight. You do not speak out as you do. Yet you are more powerful, more respected, and more feared than any other human, elf, or dwarf in this city."
"Be careful, Arishok. I might be more powerful than you." Ok, she wasn't exactly sure why she had said that. And there had been no dry sarcasm in her voice, which was odd. Her tone had been as serious as a cloistered sister singing the chant.
Oh, she knew why she had said it. His reaction. With every sentence she said, his anger escalated until she was no longer looking at a calm qunari, but a very pissed one. She enjoyed the emotion playing on his face, anger... and the desire to hit her. No doubt any woman who spoke as Hawke did to the Arishok would be severely beaten, if not killed.
He took another jerky step forward, as if that was exactly what he intended to try to do.
"Is there a point to emphasizing all the badassedness of me, Arishok? Because I really have a big ego as it is, and I don't need the mighty Arishok building it up anymore."
He said nothing, but his face was a thundercloud above her. She continued before he could get a word out of his lips.
"But I understand that all these things are reprehensible things to your people..." She walked towards him casually, swaying her hips and putting on the charm she was so adept at. "...And I am very not sorry for being an independent woman mage..." She was right in front of him now, and she lifted her hand, tracing a slender finger across the brown leather strap that lay across his broad chest. "Perhaps... I need punishment from your hands... perhaps you would like to correct my mistakes..." Her hand slid over his pronounced pectoral muscle, feeling his chest heave beneath her touch.
She looked up into his face, and there were so many emotions there that for a moment she was stunned. She thought she might have broken him... Rage, passion, lust, frustration, desperate control... All fighting for dominance on his face.
"That is... exactly why I speak to you alone now," he finally said, his voice closer to a snarl than a humanoid voice. "To correct your mistakes. Under all your flaws, I believe you to be a reasonable creature... I wished to speak to you of the Qun and show you that it is the only way to purpose and happiness."
"And then you get a valuable convert, one with power in the city. Smooth move, Arishok. Very tactical of you." Her hand smoothed over his leather necklace and up the thick, hard column of his neck.
She enjoyed the sound of his sudden fierce roar, and the sensation of his hands reaching up to grab her shoulders, nails ripping the cloth and digging into tender flesh. He spun her around, slamming her against the wooden door with such force that she thought the door would splinter apart behind her. "I have no need to convert you, human. That is not my desire."
Hawke was not afraid. If he got too rough for her liking, she could easily throw him back with a force spell, or freeze him in place. She did not fear him at all, but she did force a provacative moan, wrapping her legs around his large waist, pulling her lower body closer to his. Pressing against the cloth of her pants covering the hot flesh between her legs, she felt the tell-tale heat and hardness of his aroused manhood.
Smiling into his passionately ambivalent face, she lifted her hands and braced herself against his arms that still held her pressed on the wall, and she rolled her hips slowly against him.
The Arishok let out a half hiss, half moan, and suddenly rammed her entire body against the wall, eyes locked on hers as if showing her who had the power in the situation.
"Listen, dear Arishok," Hawke murmured, wiggling her trapped hips against him. There wasn't much room to move, considering her pelvic bone was being crushed against the wall and the giant kossith. She did not look away from him, merely blinked placidly up at him. "I will not be converted into servitude. I will not be bound to traditions and a religion that hates everything I am, and that includes the Chantry..." She nuzzled her nose against his chin, the most she could reach in her current position. "But I will let you fuck me."
His expression was painfully torn. No doubt it had something to do with the Qun not wanting him to have sex with those not of the qun... or mages... or something... But the light in his eyes became hard and resigned, and Hawke thought she had won... until he let go of her shoulders slowly and reached down to forcefully unwrap her legs. Her feet met the ground again and he stepped back, appraising her. She wasn't sure if she had won or not as he gave her that searing gaze, then he demanded, "Take off your clothes."
She felt like being frustrating... It was what she was best at. She smirked softly. "I don't take orders, Arishok."
A muscle began to tick in his jaw, and his eyes narrowed. "I am the male. I am dominant. I said take off your clothes."
"Doesn't mean I take orders. Perhaps you will have to take them off yourself." She put a hand on her right hip and cocked it to the side. His eyes glanced down at the movement, then back at her face. "Or I could leave... Would you like me to leave?"
She imagined every lover the Arishok had claimed had been good little qun girls who did everything they were told. She must have been refreshing to him... or very, very frustrating. By the look on his face, it was mainly the latter. He came toward her with a menacing step and grabbed the front of her pants. They were made of tough, black leather, but somehow, with one wrenching pull that almost sent her tumbling to the ground at his feet, he ripped them open. With another yank, he tossed the remnants of them onto the floor beside them, leaving the bottom half of her body bare. She stood there, still as calm as ever, and Hawke thought he was reaching to destroy her shirt as well, but she got a slight surprise when he simply gripped her arm and drug her to his bed. He pulled aside the curtain, nearly ripping it from its metal rod, then he tossed her onto the bed as easily as if she was a frail child.
Oddly enough, she enjoyed it.
Hawke tried to roll over onto her back to welcome him on top of her, but his clawed hands stopped her, instead forcing her onto her stomach. She let him take control then, knowing that that was the only way he knew how to have sex, with him being solely dominant. His claws scratched her skin as he forced her hips up into the air. She smiled, coming up onto her elbows and stretching her neck to look back at him. His expression was unreadable as she spread her legs wider, giving him a perfect view of her already wet and ready pussy.
"What are you waiting for, Arishok? I obviously want it."
She noticed his breathing was slightly labored, but he looked as willing as herself. His hands came to the red sash at his waist, and he deftly untied it, eyes remaining on her wanton body spread out before him. He untied the laces of his pants and reached inside, his eyes now meeting her own, watching eagerly for her reaction as he pulled out his hard erection.
It was, by far, the biggest cock she had ever seen. It had to be at least a foot long, and as thick as her forearm. He gripped it and ran his clawed hand roughly down the length, enjoying the expression of shock and lust on her face.
The Arishok was not one to tease. He barely knew what the term meant. As soon as Hawke moved her hips pleadingly, he took hold of her waist to still her movements, and thrust deep inside her without any other prelude to the act.
She inhaled sharply, involuntarily moaning deeply at the same time. Tears sprang to her eyes at the sharp burning pain as her vagina was stretched farther than it ever had before. The only pain that she could relate this to was the time she had been stabbed through the gut by the dagger of a bandit, and though it wasn't that bad, it was close enough for her to be in some serious pain. And Anders wasn't here to heal her... That image of Anders and the Arishok in the room with her together was one she had to think of further when she wasn't so preoccupied by the Arishok's dick inside her.
He began to move before she had accustommed herself to his girth. He slid slowly back out, taking shuddering breaths at the exquisite sensation of her too tight sheath. The qunari women he had taken had all been naturally fit to take him in, but humans were a great deal smaller than himself. He looked down and saw blood on his member and on her. He knew who it was from.
He figured it might be good of him to ask if she still wanted this, but he was still angry with her for being a frustrating woman. She continuously mocked him and took light of everything he said... Still, he paused with his tip still lodged in her.
Her hips suddenly thrust backwards impatiently, sliding him a little bit back into her and she looked behind her once more. He saw tears glistening in her eyes, but her face was clouded with desire. "More," she choked out. "Please. I'll get used to it, but... more... Don't stop."
He needed no other encouragement. He thrust back into her as hard as before.
Hawke reached inside her, easing out a little magic and aiming it to heal herself. The tingling sensation made the Arishok shudder, as she healed the injuries his cock had done to her with the initial invasion.
"No magic!" he growled, reaching forward to grab the back of her neck, slamming her face into the mattress. She turned her head sideways so she could breath, but beligerently did not let go of the magic as he continously ripped her open. He pulled out and back in roughly, and lifted his other hand, hitting her plump ass in his frustration from her disobendience. She let out a short scream, wiggling her hips eagerly. She had never experienced such rough sex, and she enjoyed it as much as any other sex, no more, no less.
He smacked her again, then gripped her soft flesh, nails scratching the surface of her skin. He was pounding into her now, the bed creaking and scraping slightly on the floor, and her gasps, moans, and cries spurred him on further. He ignored the use of her magic now, too distracted was he by the violent exploitation of her lush, vulnerable body that she had offered to him so easily. And the very feel of the tingling power on her skin was enough to drive his need to even greater, more fierce heights. He was creating animal noises in the back of his throat, snarls and snorts and soft growls.
The pain was gone now, thanks to the magic, replaced with a burning heat in her loins. His cock was only making the warmth become brighter and more desperate, and she reached up, rubbing her clit fast and hard. She moaned deeply at the bombardment of sensations. His hand was still on her neck, one claw cutting her cheek, and she turned her head sideways just enough to slide that finger into her mouth. She bit down on it savagely, moaning around the digit, and the Arishok growled at the gesture, his hips snapping even more ferociously against her.
It was impossible to not feel the explosive orgasm that he released inside her. The powerful stream of cum covered the walls of her vagina, and she gasped around his finger, then made one of the most feminine sex noises she had ever made as she brought herself her own orgasm with the help of his intense fucking.
He pulled away immediately, bending down to grab a scrap of her leather pants to wipe himself clean, before tucking himself back into his clothing. Hawke had collapsed onto the mattress, bruised, scratched, bloody, and as sated as she had ever been. The only lover she had known that could compare to this was Fenris, or Isabella, but Isabella was more of a satisfying gentle lover.
"Leave, Hawke," the Arishok said roughly, sitting on the bed beside her beaten body. He put his head in his hands, as he had been when she had first come into the qunari compound earlier.
Slowly she sat up, glad that her healing magic had taken away the pain that no doubt would have been with her right now otherwise. She leaned against his shoulder momentarily, and she felt his body tense, but he did not push her away.
"Maybe we could do this again, hmm?" she murmured softly.
"If you come back and taunt me the way you have done this day, I will forcefully convert you and make you one of my mates. If this does not please you, do not come back. Contrary to what you believe, I am much more powerful than you."
She smiled to herself, and turned her head, gently kissing his muscled bicep. "Tell yourself what you like, love."
"Recall what I have just done to you, human. That was not your power, nor could your power have stopped me."
She let out a genuine laugh at that, and he lifted his head in irritation. "First of all, Ari, it was my power at seduction that got you in the situation in the first place. Second of all, I wanted it. Third of all, do not doubt, that if you had crossed a boundary that I did not favor, you would not have gotten your cock inside of me."
He growled, yanking his shoulder away from her, and he really did appear like he was going to hit her, but she calmly stood up, taking advantage of being taller than him for the first time. Though she did not look very impressive with only a shirt on and with cum and blood sliding down her leg in a few rivulets, she still met his eyes confidently. "I sincerely hope you do not ever get in a fight with me. I believe you would make a powerful ally, and maybe a loyal friend if you didn't have the qun up your ass... And it would be a tough fight, but do not doubt, Ari, that I would end you if need be."
He let out an angry snarl and stood, but she did not move away from him. He was shaking with fury, but she continued calmly, "I would like a pair of pants to make my way back home."
He suddenly grabbed the collar of her shirt, lifting her into the air, a cold gleam in his eye. She didn't struggle, didn't move, simply hung there in his grip, unblinking. He then made a sharp, jerky movement, ripping her shirt down the front, and then he tossed her across the room... except it didn't work out like he intended.
She let out a blast of magic that sent him flying across the room, over the bed, and into the stone wall. She controlled the air around her, congealing it so that it caught her like a net, and she landed on her feet gracefully on the opposite side of the room from the qunari.
She was now naked from head to foot, and it did not look like he was willing to give her a change of clothes now. He was standing up quickly and stalking over to her, fire in his eyes. She sighed deeply. "I wish we could have left on good terms."
He said nothing, but came closer, and she lifted a hand, sending out cold energy to envelope his feet with ice. He suddenly came to a stand still, and he jerked his feet angrily, then looked at her, murder in his eyes. She simply smiled and jumped onto the mattress walking across the place where they had fucked. She leaped gracefully down from the bed and went to the balcony, deciding that was the best exit now.
Then a thought crossed her mind, and she turned on her heel to face the struggling Arishok once more. "You aren't... going to cause a war because of this, are you? Because I'll make amends if you wish, so that doesn't happen... Honestly, I like the qunari, despite a few flaws here and there, but I admire your conviction and fortitude... I do not want enemies, even though I do seem to make them quite often." Her voice was solemn now, trying to convey that her words were honest and straight forward at the moment.
"Free me, unbound!" he snarled furiously. "I am no fool. Personal matters will not effect my duty to the qun, and now war does not coincide with qun. But I would like to teach you a lesson about that smart tongue of yours." He struggled against the ice holding him in place, but still it would not release him.
She smirked at him, opening her lips and undulating her tongue at him. "You would have really gotten to know my tongue if you hadn't been so hasty in dismissing me. But it's too late now. Well..." She tapped her pert nose thoughtfully, then said, "If you give me a change of clothes, I'll let you give me a tongue lashing... or a spanking..."
"I will give you nothing, and I will not make deals with you, human! Release me!"
She shook her head regretfully. "Ah, what a shame... Well, that ice will melt in fifteen minutes or so... I'll see you later, Ari."
He let out a frustrated roar as she jumped up onto the hand rail of the balcony and leaped into the air, wrapping magic around herself to float easily down to the docks below.
Wrapped in an invisibility spell, she made her way up to lowtown. She was only slightly surprised to see Varric standing outside the qunari compound, waiting impatiently for her across the street, with a perfect view of the kossith's gate. She smiled at the loyalty of her dear dwarven friend and walked toward him, coming to a stop right beside him.
"Nice weather we have today, wouldn't you say?" she said, grinning down at him.
He nearly jumped out of his skin as he whirled around to see... absolutely nothing. But he still knew. "Hawke... What the hell is going on? Are you alright?"
"Well... I am a little lacking in garments at the moment... but other than that, I'm wonderful. How about you?"
His eyes widened in shock, anger, and worry, and he threw a furious glance at the compound. "What did that blasted beast do to you?"
"Nothing I didn't ask for, Varric, so keep your knickers out of a twist. Let's just get to my house if you don't mind. I'm freezing my tits off."
The poor dwarf had so many emotions on his face that Hawke wasn't sure what she was seeing, but Varric finally just chuckled darkly and shook his head. "Hawke, the stories you give me... I hardly have to use my imagination anymore."
"Make sure that you mention in the tale that I strode out of the compound wearing only the Arishok's red sash like a toga."
If the context of the sentence had been anything other than what it was, Varric might have found it was humorous. Instead, he laughed loudly, but inside he felt a little bitter.
Varric led her back to her family's mansion. They only had one close encounter with a group of bandits, but Varric talked their way out of a fight easily.
As they neared the house, it was nearing 5 in the afternoon. The sun was still bright, lighting up the streets, and more importantly, people were still out doing their business... And Hawke's mana pool was almost depleted.
"Shit," Hawke muttered. "Varric, we need to hurry. I'm getting tired."
"Andraste's tits!" Varric said, the idea of Hawke naked and vulnerable, standing in the middle of the hightown market, nearly giving him a heart attack. "Come on," he said, running forward on his stout legs. She followed him, but she knew it was too late. She got to the top of the stairs and the invisibility magic wore off like water running down her body.
"Ummm... Varric," she said, trying her best to hide her grin as she casually walked along after his running form. He turned around, and groaned, jogging back to her while yanking his brown jacket off. He wrapped it around her, and it was long enough that it at least covered everything if she closed it around her. It was a rather long coat for a dwarf, reaching his knees, but it only came down to the very top of her thighs and Varric felt his groin stir at the sight of her naked body shrouded in his clothing.
"Have I ever mentioned you smell very nice, Varric?" She lifted the material and sniffed the brown collar of the jacket. "Like leather, spice, and cheap whiskey."
He tried to pretend that comment didn't effect him like it did. "Human, come on, before I have to start shooting the men that are staring at you right now."
They hurried to her mansion, and Varric opened the door for her. Hawke turned and saw a young nobleman staring at her in shock. She gave her a flippant wave before laughing heartily as she followed the exasperated Varric inside. Varric slammed the door shut behind him, trying to control his sudden arousal that was raging at the moment.
He simply stood there, assuming that she had gone upstairs to change, but when he turned, she was standing there, watching him, the edge of his coat covering half of her face as she breathed in his scent. Her gray eyes were bright in the dim entrance hall, her form silloutted against the light in the main room. It was bright enough that he could see, with just that little distance that she had lifted his jacket up, that the juncture between her legs was visible, the snowy pubic hair teasing at the bottom hem of his clothing. The sight of her standing there in that state made his cock twitch uncomfortably.
"Varric, don't look so serious. Your face might get stuck that way," she said jokingly. She came forward, and his breath hitched in his chest, throat constricted as if she was choking him with her mind... which was quite possible, but he managed to suck in a breath, and, trying to act like his normal self, he replied, "Either way I'll be a very handsome dwarf."
"That you are," she said throatily, coming to a stop right in front of him. Suddenly she swung the coat from her shoulders before he could realize what she was doing, and handed it to him casually. "Here's your coat. Thank you, Varric."
He was speechless for a long moment, his fingers curling slowly around the leather as his eyes fell involuntarily down to her beautiful body. What he wouldn't give to wrap his hands around those small, plump breasts... What he wouldn't give to be the only one she wanted to have touch her in such a way... But it was more likely that the maker come down from Heaven and lick his hairy left nipple than for the wild Hawke to be solely his.
She gave him a knowing smile, and turned, flouncing away. His eyes might have bore holes in her round, perfect ass, had he had such a power at that moment. Sodding stone, woman, he thought angrily, but he wasn't angry at her, exactly. He was angry at his cock.
As she walked through the doorway, Bodahn let out a strangely girlish scream, and Sandal said happily, "Enchantment!" Thankfully her mother wasn't in the room, and Oranna simply followed her up the stairs without a word.
"Bodahn, I'd like a bath, if you don't mind." Her voice was not flippant, not snobby or demanding as she called down from the stairs. Varric was always astounded at the change of her tone, of how many layers and depths there were to her many-shaded character. Her voice now was kind and humble, as if he could very well say he did not feel like making her bath tonight, and she would say that was fine.
He loved her. He absolutely loved her, everything about her. He had once loved a dwarf in Orzammar, but not in this way... Not so intensely, to where all he could think about was her, to where all the stories he could think of revolved around Skye Hawke, to where what he thought about right before he fell asleep was Hawke. But he would not, could not, be just an option. He would not be another one of Hawke's victims. He had saw the damage she had dealt to Anders, Fenris, and even Merril, who had believed herself in love with Hawke.
He turned, opening the door, and left nearly as quickly as he had come in.
Hawke was not one to fret and worry about the past... or the future for that matter. She simply lived in the present, lived on her desires, convictions, and what she believed to be right. What happened... happened. It was simply that and remorse could not change an iota of history. Sex was not emotion. Sex was not love. Sex with love, she imagined to be a completely different animal, and she believed she had something like that with Isabella now, but it simply wasn't important. She did enough for the city. Ever aspect of her life was for the city. And she never asked for anything except the occasional fuck. It wasn't so much to ask, and she did not regret one person she had been with. Sometimes she regretted how the other had felt about her, like Anders, but that was all.
So she went on with life just as jovial as ever. Her heart truly could not hold regret, pain, or sadness. It was not in her to feel those things for long, if at all.
Day after day passed. Mission after mission was accomplished. Her smile was light. Her laughter rang often. She saved lives and freed mages. She brightened the darkness in the lives of the citizens of Kirkwall, if only for a few moments. She was the type of person to kneel down beside beggars in the street and have conversations with them while passing into their hands several coins. She was the one to stop her business for a few minutes to tell children playing in lowtown a story, or to toss them sweets while walking past. She was the one to spare an enemy, to save an unwanted, and also to kill without regret if the opposition gave her no other option.
And, though she had broken a few hearts, her party could not help but still love her. Every one of them, even if they did not agree with her ethics or her beliefs... they loved her. It was impossible not to love a soul such as hers, free, untamed, and as gentle and as capable of being captured as a cool summer breeze. But there was also the potential for danger in her. She was the air, the sky, the wind, quick to be soft and beautiful, but just as swift to become a powerful storm.
Varric thought all these things as he followed behind her, walking beside Isabella and Anders, who were speaking together in a friendly manner. They were coming through hightown late in the day, walking past the chanter's board, when Hawke suddenly stopped, peering up at the Chantry thoughtfully. Varric wondered what was on her mind, when she suddenly turned around, a mischievous grin sharpening her features that she was trying in vain to hide.
"All of you go on home. It's late. And I have suddenly gotten the urge to pray," she said, raking a hand through her short, white hair in her barely contained excitement.
"To pray? Are you feeling well, sweet thing?" Isabella said, reaching up and putting the back of one hand to her forehead. Hawke laughed, grabbing Isabella's dark skinned hand and pulling it down to her lips, kissing her knuckles gently.
"I'm feeling... religious today. Just a phase. I'll be normal tomorrow. Go on and get some drinks at the Hanged Man, you three. I'll join you soon."
Isabella raised an eyebrow, shaking her head. She slipped her hand free to carress Hawke's cheek, before turning and waving over her shoulder, slinking away with that sexy swagger in her hips.
Anders nodded without meeting Hawke's eyes, and Hawke felt a small pang of sympathy for the healer that had apparently given his whole heart to her that night, and she had not even realized it until much later, after she had rejected him the next morning. She followed his retreating form for a moment, then glanced down at Varric. The dwarf was watching her suspiciously.
"Going to make some innocent sisters break their vows, Hawke?" he asked, raising a thick, blonde eyebrow at her, golden eyes scanning her face for some sign that that wasn't the case.
She giggled, smiling like a little imp caught in the act, and he groaned inwardly, but then she completely avoided the question with another question. "Why haven't you given me a nickname like everyone else?"
He gave her a half-hearted smile. "Aveline asked the same thing. I haven't given her a name either."
"What's so special about everyone else? I want a nickname..." She gave him a pout, fluttering her eyelashes at him, and he forgot how to breath for a moment.
Finally he answered, "Their nicknames simply flew from my lips, Hawke. I didn't really pick them. But Hawke simply rolls... It fits you." He did not mention all of the things he would like to call her, that she would probably not mind, but would not respond to...
"You should come up with a name..." She stepped closer, but there was no flirtation in her face or voice. He didn't know which was worse, when she turned her charm on him, or when she gave him that solemn gaze that meant nothing but friendship. "Just for me." She bent down slightly (she didn't have to bend very far, for she was a short human), and placed her lips softly on his forehead. The touch seemed to burn him, and he pulled away with an involuntary jerk, glaring up into her surprised face.
"Don't kiss me, Hawke, unless I am kissing you, and not every person in the Free Marches," he snapped, the words flowing out of his mouth before he could stop them. The expression on her face wasn't angry, hurt, or offended, but it was... something. Confused... Thoughtful. She either didn't know what she did to everyone around her, or she didn't care, and Varric was not about to wait around to get hurt more than she had injured him already.
Varric sighed deeply, squeezing the bridge of his nose between a thick thumb and forefinger. "Go... pray. I'll be at the Hanged Man if you need me tomorrow."
He began walking to the stairs, chest constricted tightly. He needed a drink... now.
Hawke walked through the Chantry door, feeling surprisingly heavy of heart. The look on Varric's face... What did it mean exactly? Was he just irritated at how she had known many partners, or did he have feelings for her? Or, most likely, he was getting defensive for Anders and Merril... maybe... She didn't know, nor did she know precisely what she was feeling... So she did what she always did when she was confused or hindered by things that she believed didn't matter... She went on, forcing thoughts from her mind.
The chantry was nearly empty now because of the late hour, but she heard a familiar voice praying somewhere in the temple. The deep Starkhaven brogue echoed throughout the vaulted chamber, and she walked forward on silent feet, up the stairs to the candlelit Andraste towering above the rest of the chapel.
Sebastian Vael was kneeling in front of the colossal Andraste, his prayer surprisingly beautiful, partly because of his deep, clear voice, and partly because of the expression on his face, full of peace. Hawke paused a few steps above the landing, studying his handsome face lit up by candles. His eyes were closed, his handsome face lifted upwards.
"Maker, guard my friends in their trials, and let them find peace in your light. Let their turmoil cease, let them know some rest from the constant battles they fight within themselves, and without. They all have good hearts and souls, and they deserve peace."
He paused, a smile on his lips, but his thoughts appeared to have drifted to grimmer topics, for his eyebrows contracted, his lips tightening. He dropped his head into his hands, and began to whisper, his tone becoming increasingly more desperate. "Please let me find peace. I find it when I speak to you, but lately I have grown restless. Let me find calm in your grace. I beg you, give me the conviction that I once had when I took my chastity vows to the Chantry. The pleasures of the flesh give no solid happiness, I know this, but my mind is now preoccupied and my body is beligerent to your will..."
Hawke smiled to herself. The seduction of the chantry brother might be easier than she had first thought... She continued to the top of the stairs, and came up behind Sebastian. She came to his side, and knelt towards Andraste, as if she herself was going to pray. She let her boots scrape on the floor so that he knew she was there.
Sebastian nearly fell over, so shocked was he at the prescence of Hawke. He sat up straight, and they both looked into each other's eyes for a long moment. Sebastian finally broke the silence, "Hawke... What are you doing here? It's late, and the chantry is not your favorite place to visit."
"I thought I would pray, but I found you here." She gave him a sweet smile. "I appreciate you praying for us... It is very kind-hearted of you."
Sebastian appeared troubled, for he knew Hawke had heard the last portion of his prayer. He watched her warily, and deservedly so, for her eyes strayed involuntarily to his pink lips. The tip of her tongue wetted her own red mouth.
"Why did you take your vows?" Hawke asked, instead of kissing him, as she wished to do. Something was holding her back... her desire to have sex wasn't the same as usual, even though seducing Sebastian would be a great story between her and Isabella. Something in his face... and something in her heart... made her pause.
His eyebrows rose, but he lifted his eyes to Andraste, considering her inquiry.
"I've told you I use to be a wild youth... And I was not at peace. I was in a constant state of disquiet, constantly searching for another sin to fill the hole in me." He closed his eyes, seeming to recall that time in his past... or maybe realizing that he was becoming that young boy again. "And then my family forced me into the Chantry to tame my wild ways, and I found Andraste, and the maker. I found serenity. I took my vows because, at the time, I did not need pleasure of that kind any longer."
"As long as sin doesn't hurt anyone, Sebastian, there can be nothing logically wrong with it. Sin is what certain societies and religions make it... They differ from one to the other... You are probably doubting your vows now because you need a natural release, one that the maker gave to us."
Sebastian turned his eyes on Hawke, shaking his head as if she did not understand him. "It is not my vows that I doubt. It is me. The maker gave us trials to overcome. If I have an urge to murder a man, I must fight that-" He choked on his words, and turned away. He had sinned in more ways than one, he realized.
"Those people killed your family... The maker is not here to deal out justice, nor to save us from bad men. We have to do that for ourselves."
Sebastian paused, then said, "The desires we have, they end up hurting people we did not intend to. Those men I killed... they might have had families that will miss them. The people I have known intimately, I hurt some of their partners that they cheated on, I hurt my family by my risque ways that degraded a noble name, I hurt those who wanted me for love that I could not give them. We hurt each other in more ways than we know, but by going to the maker, we hurt no one."
"You hurt those who want you in ways you refuse to give when you go to a being that probably doesn't exist."
Sebastian smiled softly, shaking his head again, as if Hawke knew nothing worthwhile. "The maker does not have to be a solid being to exist. He is in good deeds we do. He is a child's face. He is the sun. He is in the sky and wind. He is in the rain that brings life, and the mountains that stand the test of time. He is in everything."
"Or maybe good deeds are simply the light inside us. And a child's face is just a child's face, beautiful, but nothing else. Perhaps, Sebastian, the sun is simply the sun, and rain is simply rain. There does not have to be some divine power behind everything wonderful in the world." She scooted closer to him, putting a hand on his forearm gently. "Sex is good as well. It is simply what it is. It is wonderful, and brings happiness. It is one of the most natural things in our lives..."
Sebastian looked down at his knees, and his lips parted, as if he wanted to say something, but they trembled, almost like he was afraid of the words waiting there.
"Don't be afraid of what you really feel. If there is a maker, he made you feel that way for a reason..."
His face suddenly turned to hers, desperation glowing in his green eyes, and for a moment Hawke thought he was going to smash his mouth on hers in passion, but he said fervently, "I love him, Hawke! I love him, but he is a mage, an apostate, and a... a man... He is openly against the chantry, rather like you, but Justice in him is much more violent than he is, and he is altogether a sinful, irresponsible choice for a chantry brother to... I have already broken my vows inwardly many times over with him in my mind... but Hawke... If I break my vows, I am unworthy of him, for I would be a man without anything to his name except lust... I can't..." He was shaking beneath her touch, and he hid his face in his hands. The expression of shock on her face was almost comical, considering that the last thing in her mind was that she was below Anders in Sebastian's mind. Life did not fail to surprise her from time to time.
"I cannot cease thinking of him... He is forever in my thoughts, even when I pray, Hawke... I do not know what to do..."
She smiled softly, wrapping her arm around his shoulders and pulling him close to her, but not in a sexual way as she had intended only moments before. She held him as a friend. "Do him."
Sebastian met her eyes in astonishment, but she simply smiled and laughed at his nonsense. "The maker didn't give you love like that to squander. Sebastian... please... Don't be so silly. He is in a down time right now, and you could make his life worthwhile again... Sebastian... Come on." She stood up and held her hand out to him. He paused for a moment, then gripped her fingers, letting her help him up. She led him out of the chantry, to Darktown.
She waited outside Anders' clinic, eavesdropping rather nosily at the key hole. She watched as Sebastian nervously declared his feelings, renounced his vows if Anders would have him. The shock on Anders' face rivalled her own, but he looked like a man in dire need of love. Because of her rejection he had acted almost broken at times, but the light in his eyes as he stared at Sebastian now made Hawke feel warm in her heart. Slowly Anders walked up to him as Sebastian stumbled over words, and the healer took the archer in his arms, kissing him like a drowning man in need of air.
Hawke stood up, smiling from ear to ear, and she turned and began to walk back to hightown... but the image of Anders holding Sebastian in such a way... the emotion in both of their eyes, both for different reasons, but neither less passionate than the other... The way they appeared to need each other in that moment, deeply, fervidly...
Her smile faded away. Her chest had a deep ache suddenly and she headed to the Hanged Man instead of Hightown. Her large bed at the Amell estate was too empty and too lonely for any comfort.
Isabella was lying on her bed, but she was not alone. Hawke opened the door to find Norah, the bargirl from downstairs, between the dusky goddess's legs, her ass jutting up in the air and facing Hawke. Isabella was cooing encouragement, her long-fingered hand tangled in Norah's brown hair while the other hand was gripping the headboard. Isabella glanced over Norah's body, and gave Hawke a broad smile. Norah lifted her head and glanced over her shoulder. Seeing it was Hawke, she gave Isabella a pout.
"Do you want me to leave, Bell?" she asked.
"Of course not, love, unless Hawke wants to see me alone." She glanced back up at Hawke questionly, the light from the flickering candle on the bedside table reflected in her dark eyes.
"No, don't stop because of me, you two. I'll just watch, if you don't mind. Pay me no heed."
Isabella laughed heartily as Norah went back to eating out the dark-haired pirate. "Do something better, sweet thing. Join us."
Hawke returned that sly smile and walked into the room, closing the door behind her. She wasn't sure if that was exactly what she wanted, but she did know she wanted companionship. She began removing her leather clothing, dropping it in a messy pile on the floor.
The bed sunk down under her weight as she knelt next to Isabella, and she leaned down on her elbows on either side of Isabella's head, and let her lips slide over the other woman's. Isabella moaned deeply, wrapping the arm that had been braced against the headboard around Hawke's back, gripping her shoulder to push her body closer to her own. Isabella's hips arched off of the bed, and she moaned once more, parting her lips, teasing her tongue along Hawke's skin.
"Sit on my face, sweetie," she murmured against Hawke's mouth. Hawke complied because it was the easiest thing to do, but her whole self wasn't in it this time. It was as if there were weights tied to her feet, trying to drag her away from this intimate scene.
She gripped the headboard, lowering her sex onto Isabella's eager mouth. Her skilled tongue immediately dipped into her pussy, and Hawke exhaled through her nose, rolling her hips slightly against her face. Both of Isabella's hand were now gripping her hips, pulling her down till she was practically smothering her face. Her tongue lapped at her clit, knowing just the right way to do it to make Hawke beg, but Hawke did not feel like begging.
In fact, this all felt incredibly wrong suddenly, and for several minutes Isabella pleasured her with only a few gasps and muffled moans. Hawke felt her orgasm coming, but it was half-hearted, and when it came, it was weak and frustrating. She knelt there for a few moments, pressing her head into the wall. Then, restless, Hawke threw her leg over Isabella, sliding to the edge of the bed, and holding her head in her hands wearily. What did she want? She didn't know, and it was killing her.
"Baby, what's the matter?" Isabella asked breathessly, having just spent herself on Norah's tongue right after Hawke. She felt a soft hand on her lower back, rubbing gentle circles, trying to sooth an ache that Isabella had no clue of the origins.
"I... need to go. I'm just feeling out of it. I'll be better tomorrow, Bella." She stood up, leaning down to kiss Isabella's forehead, before moving to pick up her pile of clothes, clumsily throwing them on.
"Alright... But, hey, remember I love you, sweet thing. Come back whenever you like." Isabella said this as she rolled over Norah and began to help her along to her own orgasm. Hawke watched for a prolonged moment, before slowly walking back out into the hall, shutting the door softly behind her.
She stood there, running a hand through her messy white hair roughly. She stared vacantly at the wall, wanting this sorrow to go away. She wasn't accustomed to this debillitating feeling, as if there was nothing that would satisfy her, not a lover, not a drink, or music, or a mission. Nothing would make the ache go away. She wandered back down the hallway, intending on getting shitfaced so at least she wouldn't feel anything anymore.
She paused at Varric's closed door. She stared at the wood for a long moment, then, because she had nothing better to do, and she didn't want to go home, she reached forward to grab the doorknob. She wasn't one for knocking. It felt so impersonal.
It was locked. She smiled and pulled out the key Varric had given her when she had been in lowtown, in case templars came for her, or something equally as bad. She ran her finger over the cool metal object for a second, then slid it into the hole. Then she opened the door silently and stepped inside. She locked the door once more so no one could come in on them, and she headed through the dark inn room to his bed in the alcove to the right.
She saw his form in the shadows of the room, lying beneath the blankets on his back. He was snoring softly, stretched out comfortably, arms above his head on the pillows. Hawke sighed at the sight, oddly enough a bit of the ache disappearing, and before she second-guessed herself, or thought about the expression on his face when she had kissed his forehead earlier, she lay down beside him. She rested her head on his stomach, and wrapped her arm around his waist, throwing a leg over one of his short, thick ones.
He jumped awake, and in his disorientation and confusion, tried to slide out from under Hawke. She lifted her head and rested her chin on his muscled belly.
"It's me, Varric. Relax."
There was a long moment of silence, and his body became absolutely still. Hawke wished she could see his face, but the room was too dark for that detail. She smiled and blew out gently, a tiny fleck of fire coming from her lips. It hovered for a moment above them, then found a candle wick for its home. It was bright magelight, and it lit up the alcove like five candles would have. Her eyes found his sleep-softened face.
He was staring at her with a look that could only be described as enervated and completely burnt out. He was propped up on his elbows, staring down at her. "Hawke... Do you often wake people up in the night like this? Wait... don't answer that."
She laughed, but it was bitter. She pressed her face into the blanket over his stomach, breathing in his strong scent of spices and dark, fresh leather. The ache was still there.
His voice was simply tired. "Hawke... why are you-?
"Can't I just lay here, Varric?" she said, lifting her head and staring desperately at his weary face. "I just... I just..." Her throat constricted oddly, and she shut her eyes, feeling the unfamiliar burning sensation of frustrated tears. "I just want to lay with you... I can't... There is nowhere... nothing... please..." The words were jumbled in her tightened throat, and she was mortified as a tear leaked out from the corner of her eye and slid down her cheek. Varric's eyes widened, but he remained unmoving beneath her.
"I can't go home," she said, forcing her voice to be stronger, and the tears to hold back, like a dam imprisoning the flood. "It's lonely there... Let me sleep with you."
Once again, his breath got caught in his throat, and after a moment of staring at her upturned face, and pleading gray eyes, he gave in with a slight shudder. He knew he was going to receive some pain later, but right now, he could hold her, and know that he was the one she chose.
Varric lifted one hand, shifting his weight to his left arm, and he carressed her cheek gently with his forefinger, as if afraid she would laugh in his face and say she was just teasing him. Instead, she smiled softly, warmly, as if the touch soothed her, and she leaned into his hand. He let out a shaking breath at her reaction to his touch.
She scooted upwards until her face was above his, little tendrils of white hair framing her face. His arms hesitantly embraced her and he returned her smile with a solemnly wary, but warm expression. The ache was gone. The ache was actually gone, and she realized that what she had wanted was Varric. His face, his smile, his voice, his short, stubby body and warm, caring arms. She sighed deeply and brought her head down under his chin, curling up against his strong body.
And she thought, did she want sex? The answer was no, which was odd. Usually when she desired someone, it was simply for sex, but this time... this time she simply wanted to sleep next to him, and wake up with him beside her.
"Varric... Do you want to have sex with me?" Hawke whispered. She wasn't quite sure why she asked the question, but it simply fell from her lips without her being able to stop it. His arms stiffened around her, and she almost regretted asking the question because it suddenly seemed like she was cuddling with a statue. She hoped his voice didn't snap like it did before. She was actually considering praying to the maker, with a little sarcasm in the thought, when he said gently, "I want to do something with you... that you reserve for me, Hawke."
He lifted a hand and ran his thick, callused fingers through her cropped hair. "I won't be just another. I don't want that. If you hold me like this, and no one else, this is all I want."
With those words, she pressed closer to him, recognizing the bitter hurt in his tone. She had been hurting him this entire time... just like everyone else. Well, except Isabella. "Varric..." she said hoarsely, lifting her head once more to meet his eyes. He blinked up at her, wondering with surprise at that sudden emotion in her face that he couldn't quite place because he had never seen it on her before. "I'm sorry." Her eyes were wide and absolutely sincere. "I'm sorry that I hurt you... And I..." She wasn't quite sure how to say what she was feeling, but she knew how to act on it. She leaned down, and softly, as if she was frightened he would throw her off of him, she kissed his mouth as sweetly as she had ever kissed anyone.
He did not hesitate as she had expected he would. As soon as their lips met, he gripped her head with both of his hands, holding her to him desperately. She took that as encouragement, and she parted her lips at the same time he did. They took in each other's breath for a long moment, lips working soundlessly against one another, before Varric gently pushed her head away to look at her again. His gold eyes were glowing.
"I want to be with you, Hawke... And not just in passing... not like you and Isabella. But if I am not good enough, which I doubt I am, don't toy with me. Say it now, because this tiny little dwarf heart can only take so much of this."
Hawke's gray eyes widened. The thought of being an exclusive creature that only slept with one person had never actually crossed her mind. It had never been a desire in her, nor had she met a person that every fiber of her being called out to... Until now. She couldn't have explained it if she had tried, but Varric... She was willing to try exclusivity for him.
"You better be godly at sex, Varric," she teased, smirking as she pecked his lips once before leaning back up. Hope was glinting in his eyes, hope and fear, and her smirk melted into a loving smile. "That was a joke. You can be demigodly. That's fine, too. But right now... I would just like to sleep with you." And she nestled her head beneath his chin again, her hand gently trailing up his bare, hairy chest, creating invisible patterns on his skin.
"Of course," he breathed, wondering if he had come to the right conclusion from her words.
Her head popped up suddenly as she remembered exactly how he had worded what he had said. "How could you think you aren't good enough, Varric? You are more than good enough..."
His eyebrows rose, and she was kissing him again, trying to passionately show him through the physical connection that he was more than good enough. Her tongue pushed into his mouth, and his met hers willingly, sliding wetly together.
Too soon, she lifted her head once more. "You are perfect, Varric, in every way." Her voice was almost defensive, as if she was angry at him for implying that he was anything but perfect.
His smile was wide. "Calm down, Hawke. You will strike my modesty dead if you keep this up." He reached up again to run his hands gently through her hair.
She sighed, closing her eyes. "Varric." She merely said his name, but it rolled off her tongue like a holy word. "Varric." She said nothing more as she rested her head once more on his chest, but it was enough for him. "Varric," she whispered for the last time, her fingers tracing the skin over his ribs softly. She was ashamed that it had taken her this long to find something that made her so happy. Sex was entertainment, (and bloody good entertainment at that). But it was not happiness.
"Hawke," he replied throatily, staring down the top of her head with a bemused elation on his face. When he had went to bed, he hadn't expected to wake up to Hawke like this. Hawke needing him. Actually, he hadn't expected to wake up to Hawke at all. But she was here. She had chosen him. It was a comforting thought. One that held hope.