As I said, fragment from chapter 32 of Sunrise, Sunset (Or How Do You Say Sod Off In Tevinter?), my vaster story of Fenris and Hawke. My story is full of sarcasm, comedy, adventure and a bit of philosophy, as the journey moves. If you so wish, read my actual story. This is a one-shot to kind of, give you an example of what's in for this story if you would read it from the beginning. Hawke's a mage fighting as a warrior in my story, by the way. Imagine Fenris's confusion. Oh yeah, so read.

My mother-story is mostly third-person narration. In this, Hawke is drunk and barges in for first-person in some scenes. Well, let's see.

I was leaning, half about to faint. The air was rosy and golden, purely Antivan. The dark narrow street was warm, much as was the wall my back had been shoved against as brutally as it was enthralling. I felt Fenris's lips on mine, and his warm tongue moving serpentlike into my mouth. A liquid so rich like a burning nectar, a feel so exquisite that I felt it roll through my body to the very tips of my fingers thrusting in his back. I felt it descend through my torso and into the most private part of me. I burned. I burned.

"You may not be a Valkyrie," Fenris said in-between the heated kiss, panting his hot breath on my neck, pertaining to my first name, "Nor a saint," he continued with his deeply dark voice, pertaining to my second name, ah- his fingers tightened as he caressed my face, "but you're certainly a crude temptress," he growled cruelly with a dark grin and rapidly thrust his spikes into my-

"Am I-hhh," I gasped deadly, my eyes going through the back of my head, but he was merciless.

"If I ever saw one," he finished confidently.

I couldn't – uh, I couldn't. How did we get here, I don't know, but I allowed it. Did I start this? It didn't seem to matter. Fenris managed yet again to inflame me with such heartless lack of concern for my permissions. I knew once I lured the tiger out of his mountain, they would mean nothing to him. His touch, his touch only burned with undisguised desire.

"Kiss me," I whispered commandingly. "Kiss me again."

He obeyed me, and soon had me ravished. And as my fingers tightened in his rampant hair, his kisses grew more fervent. His lips bore my violent bites and he grew bloodred with his cresting passion.

He suddenly withdrew, kissing my forehead as though I was chaste again.

"No," I revolted aggressively. "You're not done," I said confidently, as if I was some cruel dominatrix. I quickly regretted giving him orders.

"I am not about to take advantage of you," Fenris said firmly, then he drew a sensual smirk that showed only one or two of his sharp teeth, "further."

"You don't have to." I wrapped my arms roughly around his neck again and he tried to free himself from me, giving me an angry look. "Isn't this little challenge just the perfect testament to how much a warrior can control himself?"

Fenris narrowed his eyes and took a step closer, his eyes again only an inch from mine. "And how many challenges do you want to give me before I give in?"

"As many as you can bear," I said playfully. "This is not the last."

"So you do mean to tempt me," Fenris said sharply, his gauntlet tightening his grip on my hand.

"I always set out to do nothing," I said innocently. "And then look how it almost always turns out."

"I will not do anything further than that without honour anyway," Fenris said confidently. "Mind you, since I am a warrior."

"What do you mean?" I asked in confusion. Maker I wanted him so bad, I could've said anything just to make him go back to what he was doing.

Then his eyes flinched with an evil realization that he could tease me into it. Maker damn his demonic eyes. Maker damn him to eternity.

His hand reached for the back of my hip and he grinned widely, "I'm not proposing marriage, but I do need a word out of you." He went for my neck and shocked the skin again with his remarkably sharp teeth and hot lips only a man from the tropic lands of the north could possess. And I could almost hear the end of his sentence and I am yours. What was I doing, no. Mother of commitments, he was playing with me. I would not give in.

His entire demeanour altered at my silence, because without bearing out words, I was practically letting him see in my eyes I wanted to… to make him mine. He softened and I could see he was just on the verge of hope, hope that at I might be good to him.

I brought his face away from my neck. "And you mean to torture me until I do, yes?" I asked perceptively, with a hint of hate for him in my words.

Fenris tilted his head to the side and fiercely grinned in my hands, "Hopefully that will not be necessary." He shoved my hands away nonchalantly and continued his satanic kisses.

I struggled. "And if I don't, you'll never lay touch on me again?" I asked innocently, trying to remain undaunted.

He stopped his lips and looked at me with the back of his eye in terrible silence, cursing at me in his mind for pointing out the obvious that he would probably break his word.

"I am not your servant," he almost hissed calmly. "If you want a whore, there's plenty right across the street."

"So I can pay you?" I asked sarcastically, but pretending to ask in innocent tone.

His eyes shrunk in anger and impatience, and again, I regretted my playing around. But he was doing the same thing, a move so petty as to demand of me things right in the middle of a heated encounter. So he could strike so low sometimes. Yes, he would be cruel because he had no experience, at least as far as I knew, and the familiar territory of attacking each other was indeed, familiar.

"So this is how it is? I don't say the word, you're not giving it up? I swear there's something poetic in it somewhere," I said sarcastically.

He leaned his hand against the wall next to my face. "Just watch me," Fenris said confidently with narrowed, unyielding dark eyes, throwing the gauntlet, as it were.

I smiled undauntedly and shrugged, "Then I'm not going to force this. You don't have to do anything you don't desire to," I played strategically, with careful words.

"Semantics," Fenris hissed with narrowed hateful eyes and shook his head, pushing me aggressively against the wall.

"Indeed, I am an expert at it," I mocked him confidently, since he was such an expert at it too. "Just watch me. I'm a blazon of chastity." I raised my palms in peace and turned the table, assuring him I wouldn't press it and it wouldn't affect me that he was withholding from continuing anything in the way things were.

"What in the name of the Black City can it be?" Fenris asked angrily. "Whatever is it that frightens you, tell me. Hawke, there's nothing that can't be changed. Tell me."

"Oh, you're so violent in your temper," I said in a whisper. "Can't you guess what reduces me to this abominable weakness?"

"No," Fenris hissed angrily. "I know only that you are frightened and I must understand it." Then he sighed and had dazed a sorrowful look. "And I must be patient with it."

"And until then this beautiful white hair of yours might finally suit the age," I said subtly, and in a perfectly miserable voice as I ran my fingers through it.

Fenris sighed shortly, boiling in frustration. I could see it. He gave me an angry glance that was enough to render me powerless. "You're terrible," he whispered painfully and brought me to his lips. "Terrible," he kept muttering after each time he bit my lip shortly. And just when he was about to moan from my touch, he contained it, drew away from me and struck me a firm, dark grin with his eyes. "I shall abuse of you with pitiful limitation then."

He was drunk, so deeply drunk, but impressing in his apparent control before the absolute carnal which we both wanted to feel. However, he was also limiting himself in more than that way and I knew it. Even if I were indeed, ready to make of him an honest man, even if I were at peace with my tortured soul and welcomed him fully in my world as my partner in everything, he was still withholding something. A terrible story. And as long as that stood, I would only be a sensuous, beautiful get-away and nothing more. If he didn't trust me to understand his past, well, I didn't trust him either. As much as I did, as much as he inspired in me the most complete devotion.

I kissed him again, and whispered in his ear, calculatingly, devil that I am, "I need you, Fenris."

"Hmph," Fenris snorted at me with unimpressed eyes. "Do you now?" I can't say what controlled rage or desperation prompted this question. And disbelief.

"Just for the sake of it, I confessed it to you. Do with it what you will," I said confidently, trying to ease this out. I'm lying though, that was not the ultimate purpose. I just had to say it, even though it changed nothing.

He was genuinely shocked. Good sign. His eyes really widened. He furrowed his brow.

His face darkened. I couldn't name the emotions that seemed to pass over his expression, the sadness, indecision, confusion and ultimate perplexity that transformed him.

– Gap –

Oh SHIET. Yes, I remember how we got there in such demonic frenzy! Yes, how foolish of me!

Reverse time and just for the sake of it, I'll narrate in the third person, because even as I am drunk, I am not horny, no. I'm not driven in this memory, just yet, by some utterly enveloping thought of making him mine. Let it simply be, that I, just as you, saw this memory as if I was some point outside of it, watching from a polite distance.

An Antivan man started holding a procession in the street. His voice was marvellous, that of a pure tenor, as he started singing and interrupted their little conversation. Grand, huge annoyance drew on Fenris's face as this man's voice resounded in the piazza. Wasn't it curfew already?

Hawke could swear he would start violently hissing any moment now. But she was too busy listening to this man dressed in fine red Antivan garments, his face that of some mannish angel seeking to possess the crowd that stopped to watch him. There were people, in the street! They hardly noticed. Now the reality was ever more striking.

"Oh, if only I knew Antivan," Hawke said with a bitter smile, drawing a lamenting grimace.

"Antivan is much in its respect, rank gutter-Tevene," Fenris said calmly, tilting his head to his side as if he was trying to make out the words.

"Can you make out the words, then?" Hawke asked innocently, a bit of pleading in her voice, because she seemed enchanted by the song.

Fenris cleared his throat shortly, his brows joined in an analysing frown, "I shall try."

She could only fathom something about the sun, and "luce" which probably meant light or something of the sort. And "con me", which could only mean "with me." The man voiced the apparent chorus again with such splendour, such rampant love for whatever he was singing about, one could easily be deceived by this warmth. It was the Antivan poetic warmth for everything and everyone.

Fenris's voice came serene and deep, as if the words were his own, "You and me. With you I will leave." Hawke looked and listened to him alarmed of his courageous translation.

He rested on his arm on the edge of the fountain, looking at the man and continued, "Countries," he said calmly, "which I have never," then he paused to clear his throat, "seen and lived with you."

Then Fenris remained perplex for a second, as if he couldn't make out the next bit, but attempted at it with unyielding perseverance for Hawke's sake, "Now, yes, I will leave them…" he looked at her for a second innocently with the back of his eye, "With you, I will leave."

He frowned again, deciphering the next bit, but quickly continued, "On ships across seas? Which I know… No, no, they no longer exist."

Hawke contained her smile and listened to him in awe of his strive to make of the words for her. He continued with a bit of a faint smile, "With you I will live them."

The tenor started singing a stanza again very quickly and Fenris lifted in eyebrows and gasped for breath, almost ready to admit defeat. Hawke smiled at him warmly as if to say, don't do it anymore, it's alright. I get the main theme. But Fenris was never one to give up and in this impossible drive in him for honour had authority over his brain. He brushed the hair fastidiously from his forehead and concentrated, "Uh, when you are… far away? I dream," he paused to regain his wits, "on the horizon, and words fail."

Hawke chuckled only quietly at his innocent struggle and encouraged him to go further. He tried. He tried. He almost burst into laughter himself from this nonsense, but then finally muttered after sighing, "And I do know that you are," he looked at Hawke again just for a second with the back of his eyes, "with me."

She tried to look away, as if to not make him feel too self-conscious of his concentration, but just as she moved her look away, a warm hand came over hers on the edge of the fountain. Fenris only grinned softly, seeming more like a brat prince, the Knight of Roses, ever than before, and only continued in his velvety, deep voice, "You, my Moon, you are here with me." Maybe he grinned because he remembered her bearing the name Sir Luna Rosebud in her childhood play, maybe he grinned innocently because he simply and felt like it, chivalrously deterred as a young driven man in his apparent courting of Hawke.

Hawke didn't flinch, rather she just trembled in excitement of his knightly move. He continued, "My sun, you are here with me," then he only faintly swayed his head and lifted his eyebrows a bit mockingly, or maybe just in tune with the melody, "With me, with me, with me."

She smiled childishly at his melodic swaying, now only faintly with his whole torso, but when he saw her watching him, he stopped awkwardly, grinning for a second. Fenris continued the same chorus, even though Hawke knew it by now, perhaps to make the words really seem his, "With you, I leave. On ships across seas, which I know and no, no, they no longer exist." Fenris squeezed Hawke's hand. "With you I will live them again."

The tenor finished with a loud, powerful vibrato Io con te, at which Fenris smirked arrogantly and tried maybe to become cold again, but couldn't win the little battle within himself any longer. As the Antivan man ended his song, the last three words Fenris spoke, "I," he said in a deep, determined voice and brought Hawke's hand to kiss it knightly, "with you."

– Gap –

"Well now," I said cockily as I separated from his warm lips. Me, a vagabond mage so sophisticated in my barbarism, in this Antivan abandoned corner of the world, a brat queen of the undercity and the higher classes.

"Well now," I said. "There's a great mystery here and you know it. It's time you told me."

He growled furiously. "What?" he asked obligingly as he got interrupted from his boyish desire.

"What's it that you haven't told me? I can feel it on your lips, you want to tell me. Not about me or us, but about you," I demanded perceptively.

He didn't want to answer. I saw he wasn't ready and was refusing me powerfully with his eyes even if his face bore no emotion of such grandeuor.

"Fine," I pressed a bit cockily, because I was drunk and merciless. "Then maybe I should seek to make you feel something else, to change this tormented face of yours."

His eyes grew colder and more beautifully calm. "What is it that you want me to feel, hm?" he whispered deeply, as he still had me pushed tight against the wall.

"You play with me and I'm the toy that feels all things. It's not fair," I said playfully. "Let me- "

I wanted to go for his pants to torture him, but he took my hand. He took my fingers and put them to his lips, and drew them across his strong jaws. He kissed them as he did so and I didn't want to let him win.

Quite enough, said his eyes, quite enough.

"Not quite enough," I said cockily. I managed to put my hand between his legs. Oh, he was wonderfully hard. That was not uncommon, of course, but he wouldn't let me take him further, because of course, he wouldn't break his word. This was no honour. How could he, though, when I played so dirty. I wanted him to choose either to confess whatever he was holding back or let me play him with wickedness, because he deserved it.

Maybe don't tease the tiger when you can't even account for the last hours from your day. Clearly, I was not in the brightest frame of mind. Nor was he. I was so drunk, helplessly in his arms. How the hell did we even end up here, alone and … alone?

"Hawke," he said insistently, his lips on my throat as they'd come quite a few times before, only this time there came a sting, sharp, swift and gone. A bite so hard that a thread stitched into my heart and was jerked all of a sudden. His mouth nestled against me, and again, that thread of shock snapped again. He shoved me harder against the wall and went back to kissing me, quickening my heart and jolting my everything as his tongue swirled like a serpent into mine.

"So that's the twist you put on it, isn't it?" I asked perceptively because I was impressed, in-between the heat and kisses.

"Not quite," he said darkly, his voice hoarsely filled with arousal, "But I can show you further, if you wish."

I didn't really know how to answer this. He didn't ignore my hesitation though. For all this brutal demeanour of his, he still awaited knightly for my permissions, now I finally understood. "Show me."

But then I can't remember exactly what he did, except that it had something to do with his lyrium glow, his hand and oh- The world moved out from under me. I gasped and drifted, and my eyes opened and saw nothing as he shut his mouth over mine again.

"Fen -rhis, you're killing me," I whispered. I tossed somewhere in him, seeking to find some firm place in this dreamy intoxication void. My body just churned and rolled with pleasure, my limbs tightening then floating, my whole body issuing from him, from his lips, through my lips, my body his very breath and his sigh.

At last, his hand became like iron. There came the sting, there came the spikes, the blade, tiny and sharp beyond measure, puncturing my soul. I twisted on it as if I'd been skewered. Oh, this could teach the gods of love what love was. This was my deliverance if I could but survive whatever he was doing with his markings on me so viciously bad.

Blind and shaking I was wed to him. I was going to burst, burst. I felt his hand cover my mouth, and only then heard my cries as they were muffled away. I wrapped my hand around his neck, pressing him against me harder, "Do it again."

– Gap –

Did I peek your interest? No? I'm wounded, but I'll live. Thank you for reading.