"Hawke."
Hawke startled, cursing colorfully under his breath, sharp silver eyes darting around the dimly lit foyer. Gaze settling upon the shivering elf on the bench, his fingers relaxed on the daggers at his hips, spine straightening from his defensive crouch. "Fenris! What the flames are you doing here?" Upon closer inspection, the former slave was drenched from the storm raging outside, thick white hair plastered against his face, olive skin paled. Deep shadows rested beneath wary eyes.
"I've.. been thinking about what happened with Hadriana. I.. regret my actions toward you. You did not deserve my anger, Hawke. You have been.. good to me. A good friend." Hawke's brow wrinkled, mouth turning down in a concerned frown, almost reaching out to physically comfort the warrior, but knowing better. Fenris regarded Hawke wearily, hunched shoulders and flittering moss eyes displaying his obvious discomfort.
"I was worried about you. Who knows what else could have been lurking in that cave?" Even as the words left his mouth, Hawke cringed internally. The last thing Fenris need was a nagging mother. Oh, Maker. Hawke definitely did not want to be Fenris's mother... images of Hawke in a horrid frilly apron baking a pie for Fenris sprang unbidden into Hawke's head. Andraste's tits, what was wrong with him? Fenris's deep sigh fluttered a few drying strands of snow hair, lips pursed. The rogue found himself staring at the elf's lush lips, studying his strong chin, the bright, curious lyrium brands snaking down his neck...
"I needed to be alone," his smooth baritone intoned, startling Hawke rather embarrassingly into the present, a pink flush coloring his cheeks. "When I was a slave," the elf continued, oblivious, "Hadriana was a torment. She would ridicule me, deny my meals, hound my sleep, haunt my dreams.. The things that bitch did, you would not, could not fathom." Hawke moved closer, feeling helpless, couldn't fathom, but desperately needed to understand... "I was powerless. The thought of the witch slipping from my grasp, her death so close I could taste her blood on my tongue.. I could not let her go."
"I'm glad she's dead. I'm glad you're safe." Guilt sparked through Hawke as he felt the heat of Fenris' body, no longer at a respectable distance from his own. Fenris was hurting, obviously tearing himself apart, and here he was lusting after the elf, the thought of Fenris's blood thick and weighty on his tongue, his flesh between his teeth, his length filling him, balls deep and panting, needy..
"For now. I still feel Danarius' eyes on me, watching my every move. He is waiting for something. If only I knew what!" Fenris sighed again, momentarily cradling his elvhen face in his gauntleted hands. "If only I could be rid of this... disquiet. This hatred. To know that it was they who planted it inside me.. it is nearly too much to bear. I feel nothing but this consuming rage, an inferno that burns everything, all I was, or ever will be...
... but I did not come here to burden you with this." As his lithe form made to turn away, Hawke reached for this elf, this man who's burdens he would gladly bear, his hand grasping the warrior's bared bicept unthinkingly. Fenris whirled around, lightning quick, snarling and spitting like a wild animal, and slammed the rogue against the wall. Hawke inhaled sharply, blinded momentarily by glowing lyrium tattoos, his space suddenly invaded by those intense eyes, the sweet stench of wine, hard metal pressing against him and tearing at his finery. His vision and senses so overwhelmed by Fenris, and as the elf pulled away, startled by his own impulsive, instinctive actions, Hawke kissed him brutally on the lips, desperate to keep him here, to taste and touch and have, finally. A deep groan from that velvet voice made Hawke shiver, body curling into the elf with desire. "Hawke," a whisper at his ear and a harsh bite made Hawke moan outright, be damned the rest of the estate's inhabitants.
"Fenris. Do you have any idea how long... ?" Speech made almost impossible by hungry teeth at his collarbone.
"I have thought of little else but you, beneath me, submitting, since I laid eyes upon you." Moans from both men as Hawke slowly ground his hips against the others', eyes fluttering shut. Teeth clashed, tongues battling, heavy breathing; Hawke gave in, as he knew from the beginning he would. How could he ever stand on his own against the tempest that was Fenris? The elf growled softly in victory, and Hawke locked his arms around his neck, lifting a leg over that slim hip for better leverage, better friction.
"Oh, Maker, Fenris... please..." Hawke breathed helplessly into his elvhen lover's pointed ear, grinding with bruising force, hands clenching around those strong shoulders.
"Please what, Hawke?" Fenris growled, catching Hawke's lower lip in his feral teeth, eliciting an animalistic moan from the rogue. "Tell me what it is you want." Fenris's seductive voice vibrated through him, shooting straight to his throbbing cock. Trembling, Hawke found it was not within his power to form a coherent sentence. The feel of Fenris's dick, tightly curled against hip underneath his skin tight leggings, made Hawke dizzy.
"Sweet Andraste, Fenris, I want.." a rough thrust punctuated Fenris' demand, "I need you inside me!" Green eyes flashed, lifting Hawke's other leg around his waist. So very slowly, Fenris rotated his hips, the claws of his gauntlets digging into Hawke's ass, angling him just so. "Ah!" Hawke exclaimed, too many layers of clothing separating Fenris from his opening. The rogue squirmed, desperately seeking more pressure, more friction, more, more. "Yessss," he hissed, "yes, yes, please, Fenris, right there!"
"How I have dreamt of you saying that," Fenris whispered huskily, licking a stripe from the corner of his mouth to his jawbow, placing a bite there before claiming his lips in another bruising kiss. "Bed. Now. I want to see you under me." Hawke moaned, clutching Fenris as they made their ungainly way to Hawke's bedroom, pausing on the stairwell, on the hall table, against the doorjamb. Battered and missing articles of clothing, Fenris threw Hawke on the bed and roughly descended upon his prey in one fell swoop.
Wanton and needy, Hawke spread his legs, raised his arms above his head and crossed his wrists in a gesture of submission. Fenris straddled him, leaning back to stare at him. He growled softly in the back of his throat before dragging his clawed fingers down Hawke's chest, shredding the robe and tearing it away, leaving Hawke naked and vulnerable, willing. What felt like hours passed, penetrating eyes roaming every inch of his body, from the pulsing veins in Hawke's pale crossed wrists to the tangled mess of red hair, the long eyelashes and hooded, slow-blinking eyes, prominent collarbone, colored darkly with lovebites. Pink nipples, pebbled and hard, to a taut stomach and sharp hipbones, creamy thighs, dribbling cock.
Hawke's chest heaved with quick, shuddering breaths, anxious under his lover's eyes. "You look... exquisite," Fenris murmured, capturing Hawke's lips briefly in a surprisingly tender kiss. Moaning, Hawke wrapped his legs once more around Fenris's waist, drawing him closer, closer, tighter, the bulge in Fenris's legging pressed against his hole, causing Hawke to blush, whimper, begging, "Fenris, please, I want.. I want to see you." Fenris smirked against his lips before distangling their bodies, grabbing hold of Hawke's ankles.
"Hold yourself open for me." Hawke did as he was told, clutching his ankles in shaking hands, pulling them close to his head. Fenris licked his lips approvingly before shirking out of his armor, unbuckling and shimmying out of skin tight leather. Inch by inch, softly glowing skin was bared to Hawke, who watched in awe as the lyrium tattoos curled and curved lower and lower, Fenris's glistening cock at last springing forth from his leggings.
"Maker save me," Hawke whispered reverently, tracing the brands with his eyes, not daring to release his hold on his ankles for fear of disobeying, wanting to touch, to taste, have that beautiful cock slamming into his throat, lips wrapped tight around the dripping head, wondered if the tattoo had a taste, lyrium mixing with precum and sweat and Fenris. Hawke moaned, low and guttered mouth watering at the sight of this creature, this gorgeous being that was finally his.
"Your Maker is not here tonight. Only me." Fenris descended upon Hawke then, hands sliding down his body, gripping his waist briefly, squeezing his hipbones bruisingly, possessively, before kissing Hawke's tight ring of muscle and gripping his ass, shoving his wicked tongue inside, lapping and sucking wetly, enthusiastically.
Hawke moaned, knuckles turning white, mewling and panting under his attentions, stretching and spreading himself impossibly further. "So eager," Fenris whispered, breath tickling him, "so open," lick, "so wanting," lick, "just for me," lick, "all mine," lick, "mine."
"Yours, I'm yours, please," Hawke whispered, reaching for Fenris, fisting his hands in that soft, white hair, crushing their lips together. Fenris snarled against his mouth, slamming Hawked against the headboard, pinning his hands above his head, biting his neck and drawing blood.
Hawke cried out, convulsing against the elf and arching his hips, sliding their cocks together. "What did I tell you?" Fenris growled, a dangerous gleam in his eyes, blood dripping down his chin. Fenris slammed his cock roughly into Hawke's hole without warning, tearing into him. Hawke screamed, slamming his head back against the headboard, his fingertips and toes going numb, suddenly feeling very cold except for the blazing fire in his ass, Fenris's warm body covering every inch of his. "You.. belong... to.. me!" Fenris grunted, thrusting into Hawke with such force that the bed creaked, knocking repeatedly against the wall. Tears slide from Hawke's eyes, the intense pain hardening his dick even further, if possible.
"Fenris, Fenris, Fenris," nothing mattered to Hawke any longer, save for the feel of Fenris deep inside him, abusing his hole, taking him, the sounds of his ragged breathing, his harsh grip on Hawke's wrists, and Hawke whispered his name over and over and over, a sweet litany of pleas, of praise, of worship and want. Hawke no longer registered what was coming out of his mouth, his throat sore from screaming, crying, begging. "Yours, yours, yours, please, take me, please, Fenris," the last was a strangled cry as Fenris wrapped a hand around Hawke's dick, and he jackknifed, shuddering, his seed shooting all over the both of them, coating Fenris's hand and his own stomach.
"I bet I would not even have to touch you, would I?" Fenris growled, lifting his cum covered fingers to Hawke's face, smearing the semen across his lips, spindly digits snaking past his lips. "Suck," he commanded, and Hawke obeyed, moaning and swirling his tongue inbetween his fingers and tasting the pads of his fingertips. Fenris moaned, slowing his frantic pace to slower, ore sensual thrusts, driving deeper into Hawke. He removed his hand from the rogue's mouth to curl it into his hair, pressing his lips softly against Hawke's, tongue softly tracing the outline of his lips, tasting the remaining seed. He bit gently at Hawke's lips, whispering against them, "Hawke," before he shuddered and exploded inside of him. Trembling, he collapsed on top of Hawke, his cock still firmly sheathed by his tight walls.
Hawke tentatively wrapped his arms around his elvhen lover, burying his face in Fenris's neck and inhaling deeply. They soon succumbed to the lull of sleep, still intertwined and very, very sticky.