Varric raised his tankard in greeting as Hawke strode into his suite. "Ah, there you are, Hawke!" he said. "Where's Blondie? I thought you had finally convinced him to take a break."

The rogue rolled her eyes. "That's what I thought, too. He said he had to pick up some unusual supplies at the Black Emporium, and then he was going back to the clinic to tidy up, so... I think it's safe to assume he's not coming." Her tone was light, but couldn't completely mask a note of disappointment.

"Awww," Isabela pouted from the corner. "Doesn't he know it's Lover's Day? Who's going to take our little Hawke to bed?" She straddled a chair, a wicked spark in her eyes. "Guess it'll have to be me."

Hawke laughed and shoved Isabela. "Ha, ha. Not interested, friend."

Anders dug through a small chest of herbs and potions, frowning. "I'm not convinced some of this is real," he commented.

"That is nooot yooour concern," replied Xenon.

"Hmm, what's this?" Anders said, lifting up a vial filled with a bright pink potion.

"Ooohh," Xenon said. "That ooone iss interesting."

Anders carefully uncorked the vial and took an experimental sniff. "Does it have lifestone in it? I can't think of a plant that would make a pink potion." As he was speaking, the ground rolled unexpectedly. His hand jerked, and the potion slid into his open mouth. He tasted a sickly sweet flavor and choked.

"That will be ten sooovereignss," Xenon said placidly.

"What?" Anders exclaimed. "I didn't even want this!"

"Yooou cooonsumed it, yooou must pay for it. Unless yooou want Thaddeuss to strain it frooom yooour innardss?"

"You know I don't have ten sovereigns to throw around!" Anders protested.

"Very well, then," Xenon responded. "Twooo sooovereignss, if yooou cooome back toooomorrow and tell me the stoooory."

"Story? What story—"

"Thaddeuss..."

"All right, all right! Here's your two sovereigns."

Anders shook his head as he left the Black Emporium. There was a lingering sweetness at the back of his throat, but he couldn't detect any other effects of the strange potion.

Walking past the Chantry steps, Anders saw a handful of Templars. He felt a surge of the old, familiar panic, but was surprised when it wasn't accompanied by the flare of Justice's righteous anger. In fact, Justice seemed unusually quiet.

Ducking his head, Anders hurried away from the Templars and towards the Hightown market. His thoughts drifted to Hawke. Everything made him think of her—her chatting with the merchants in Hightown as she ran her fingers over a piece of finery. Her light, dancing movements down the steps towards Lowtown. The way she stood as she haggled with Lady Elegant, one hip cocked out.

Hips.

That perfect curve of her hips. Anders' throat went dry. He swallowed, one hand unconsciously spreading over his own abdomen. He imagined gripping those hips, pulling her close against him, leaning down to kiss the skin of her neck.

Skin.

His mind pictured the expanse of her skin, her breasts that he had only seen hidden under layers of armor. He wondered what her nipples looked like. A little moan escaped him.

His eyes snapped open—when had he closed his eyes?—and he realized people were giving him odd looks. Attracting attention was the last thing an apostate needed. Time to move on. Need to get out of sight, he thought. He spotted the infamous hanged man of the Hanged Man and hurried inside.

He realized, belatedly, that she would be there. It was Lover's Day—Kirkwall's popular romantic holiday. According to tradition, single men and women have to find a partner for the night or be doomed to be alone forever. When she'd asked him to come to the Hanged Man with her, he had awkwardly refused. At the time, it had seemed like an inappropriate temptation. Now, he was having a hard time remembering why.

Sarai and the others were on their third pitcher of ale, sitting around the table in Varric's suite. Isabela was trying to seduce Merrill, but the elf continued to innocently misunderstand what was going on.

"Merrill, I think I pulled a muscle in my thigh, could you massage it for me?" the pirate was asking. She put one foot up on the table, showing off a long, tanned leg.

"Oh! Oh my, that sounds painful. I'd be happy to help," Merill replied, then looked around in confusion at the roars of laughter from the other companions.

Before Isabela could try another approach on Merrill, Anders appeared in the doorway. Hawke shot to her feet, and Varric exclaimed, "Blondie! Glad you showed up!"

Anders said nothing, his eyes dark and locked on Hawke. He strode across the suite, pulled her close, and kissed her.

A collective gasp broke from the group, overlaid by Isabela's catcalls. Hawke let out a moan and leaned into the kiss. Anders put his hands on Hawke's hips, pulling her away from the table and then pushing her back up against the wall.

She put her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, but he grabbed her wrists and pinned them against the wall above her head. His mouth latched onto her neck, making her gasp.

"Are we sure that's Anders?" Merrill asked, wide-eyed. "It doesn't seem like Anders."

"Perhaps we should remove him. Forcibly," replied Fenris.

Isabela looked over the couple with an appraising glance. Hawke lifted her legs off the ground to wrap them around Anders' waist. "Hawke is more than capable of taking care of herself. Come on," she told the others.

"But this is my suite!" Varric protested.

"Not tonight it isn't," Isabela said. As Anders carried Hawke over to the bed, she added with a grin, "And you might want to buy a fresh set of sheets before you come back tomorrow."

Distantly, Hawke heard the door close behind her companions, but it was an unimportant detail compared to the blood rushing in her ears, and towards other parts of her anatomy.

Anders dropped her on her back on the bed, pinning her wrists, and straddled her. She let out a whimper.

"Do you want this?" he asked, his voice thick with desire.

"Oh, Maker, yes!" Hawke gasped. "I've wanted this for three years!"

"I've wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you," Anders murmured in response, leaning down to kiss her. Their mouths locked together, tongues dueling, as Hawke tilted her hips desperately upward, pressing against him.

Anders sat up and began undoing the straps that held his robe closed. He let the robe fall open, revealing a thin undershirt. Then he began undressing her, carefully loosening every strap and buckle until her armor came free, then removing her shirt and finally her breast band.

He stared down at her, breath catching in his throat. She was beautiful—well, he had already known that. But seeing her like this... he swallowed, feeling himself growing hard.

Hawke felt it, too, because she moaned and writhed under him.

Anders removed his belt, looking carefully into her eyes. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do," she replied. "Why?"

He grinned. "I've ached for you for three years. Now it's your turn to ache for me for a little while." He pulled her arms up above her head, looping his belt around her wrists and securing them to the headboard of the bed.

She bucked her hips and gave a whimper of displeasure when he slid off of her. He sat in a chair by the bed.

"Come back," she protested, twisting towards him.

"Can't," he answered. "It's time for your magic lesson." He leaned in, lowering his voice. "You see, it's very difficult for a mage to channel magic directly from will to action. It's far easier to direct magic through a medium. The staff is the most effective, of course—" he was close enough now for her to feel his breath on her skin "—but the mage's hands work well in a pinch."

He ghosted his lips over one breast, smiling when she moaned in response. "And a skilled mage can use other things as a medium." He closed his mouth over her nipple, letting lightning dance over his tongue.

The feeling of a thousand tiny shocks on her breast made Hawke cry out, her body bucking and surging against the sensation.

Anders grinned, turning his head to take in her face. Then he lifted a hand, cold wafting off of it like steam in the air. He reached across to her other breast and pinched her nipple between frozen fingers.

She shuddered. "Ander-r-rs," she gasped.

"Yes?" he said, still smiling.

"Please, Anders, please."

"Say it," he whispered. "Say you want me."

"I want you!" she told him. "Anders, please, I want you so much."

"Have you learned your magic lesson?" he teased.

"Yes!" she snarled. "Give me your staff, already!"

At that, he threw back his head and laughed. "I can't say no to that."

He quickly stripped, throwing his clothes haphazardly on the ground. Then he straddled Hawke again, watching as her eyes swept over his body. "Let me guess, you're disappointed."

She laughed breathlessly. "Quite the opposite," she said. "You look even better than I imagined."

"Does that mean you were imagining me?"

"Are you surprised? I haven't been the one playing hard to get."

Anders frowned slightly. "I wasn't playing hard to get," he protested. "It's just... Justice—" For the second time, he found himself wondering why Justice was being so uncharacteristically silent. In fact, the spirit hadn't offered even a hint of disapproval at what he was doing.

"Forget about Justice," Hawke said, squirming under him. "Let's focus on me and you."

He didn't need more encouragement than that. He leaned down to kiss her passionately, hands drifting over her breasts and squeezing them. He shifted lower, resting his erect cock against her entrance. She moaned and angled her hips higher.

With a slow, smooth motion, he entered her, gratified to hear her gasp with pleasure. With one hand, he freed her from the belt. She wrapped her arms around him.

Their bodies moved in unison. Anders groaned. It wasn't only the physical pleasure, though that was wonderful after years sleeping in an empty bed. It was Hawke herself, the woman who had become his obsession.

"Maker, I waited too long for this," Hawke breathed in his ear.

"You're telling me," he growled back. "It—ah—it won't be long now..."

"I'm ready," she said passionately. "I'm right on the edge."

A few hard thrusts later, Anders came with a gasp. Hawke shuddered around him, digging her fingers into his back. She gave a blissful sigh.

Anders rolled to the side, curling around her. Hawke turned towards him, resting her head on his arm. "Anders," she whispered. "Not that I'm complaining, but... what just happened?"

"I don't entirely know," he replied. "But I think I owe Xenon the Antiquarian a story."