A/N: HELLO ALL! DID YOU FUCKIN' MISS ME?! No? Alright. Here's the deal. I know a lot of you have been waiting for updates to A Warrior's Heart, A Rogue's Discretion and A Mage's Dilemma, and I can't even begin to express how much it pains me when I get notifications about people following my stories because I feel so guilty about them being unfinished. While I can't make promises about release dates, I am still working on them. Real life has been… interesting, to say the least. I'm employed now! I'm a tutor at my college! I'm also openly gay and agendered in most aspects of my life. The reason that's worth mentioning is because it's a big part of why I stopped writing for so long. After finally getting over the religious guilt that'd been shoved on me my whole life, finally understand that goodness, no, God doesn't hate me, and I don't need to hate myself, I drastically overhauled my self-image.
I came to understand where my spirituality and gender, though relatively unrelated, actually lie, and after accepting my sexuality, I found it really, really difficult to write about heterosexual relationships. It felt like I was constantly lying when I'd try to, but now, after so much time has passed, I'm okay with it. It's coming back to me. I still absolutely love Fenris; I just couldn't be in a serious sexytimes relationship with him. As soon as the penis gets involved I just can't, but my writing can!
So now we come to this (CHEESY AS ALL FUCKING HELL) short story. When I sat down to write it, it was supposed to be the prize for helping me name A Mage's Dilemma that I promised so long ago, but as it went on it turned into something else. I hope the recipient still likes it! I wrote this quite a while back, but due to reasons previously mentioned, I couldn't bring myself to finish it. After looking back and editing it somewhat, I've decided to post it. Read on, and I hope you enjoy!
Also though, as a brief side-note, I looked back and some of my first posted writings, the initial chapters to A Warrior's Heart and such, AND OH MY GAWD THE GRAMMAR. I almost want to take the time to go back and edit all those fucking run-ons and comma splices. But I won't. Because, like everyone, I need to remember how far I've come. Anyhow, carry on.
It had been a long six years for Fenris. He now looked back at his time as a lone fugitive quite fondly. Things were much simpler when there was only one person to worry about; he was bound to no one but himself. Now, however, he felt obligated to watch for the welfare of those around him. Though these people could all take care of themselves, he was now attached. Selfless was never a word he thought he would use to describe himself after his escape, but now he found himself going out of his way to help people he really didn't have to help.
Primarily, it was all the wayward souls Hawke felt the need to lend her aid to, but then there was Isabela, who found herself in mess after mess, often involving unknown substances of equally unknown origins. Isabela was a special case for Fenris, for shortly after he had come to be a part of Hawke's 'pack' (as she sometimes referred to them), he had engaged in an act of a purely carnal nature with said pirate queen. Fenris had no recollection of the act itself before that night, and while he had thought about it, it did not consume his thoughts on nearly the same level as it did after that first romp.
That first romp was also the last, but that was only because he realized that Isabela was not his type, and that, surprisingly, there was nothing he could learn from her. Isabela was a gateway drug though; she opened the door to an itch that he couldn't scratch. It was driving him to the point of madness. No, she was driving him to madness,that vixen in a burlap sack. He had resorted to near-constant and altogether shameless pandering to his own imagination.
Hawke was his undoing. He knew it, but she was oblivious. To her, he must have been a big brother, a protector, a friend and, at times, a confidant. She loved him, sure, but Hawke loved just about everyone. She was naïve and trusting; that was the only explanation for the continued presence of that wretch, Anders. She would come to him, with her wild bedroom hair and wide eyes, seeking advice on whatever issue availed her that day. He would listen, glad for the excuse to stare at her, and impart his biased, mage-hating advice, which seemed odd, considering she was of the mage variety.
She didn't seem to mind though. She valued his advice, and she never fought him on it. Hawke just smiled and thanked him for his input in whatever issue she had come to him for, and though he didn't realize it, she came to him for just about everything. He was the light of her life; she just didn't know how to go about doing anything about it. Hawke had her wild side, but when she was standing on two legs she was just a sweet, harmless young woman.
Perhaps that was why Fenris didn't really see her as a mage; she never shot fireballs or electrocuted anyone, nor did she siphon the life from her victims or freeze them to death. She simply… ripped their throats out with her teeth, or mauled their faces, or any other manner of grisly, animalistic death… Maybe it was because she spent most of her time as a wolf, and he identified with that because it made his name seem strong in spite of the weakness it had instilled in him, or maybe he had just made an exception for her. He understood that she was a mage, but there was something about Hawke that stopped him from demonizing her. She was so unconditionally kind and compassionate that he had trouble believing that wolf (or that bear, depending on her mood) could really be her. It was such a drastic personality shift; when Hawke took on an animal form the way she carried herself spoke volumes. The wolf was snarky and sarcastic, cunning and devious, while the bear was very reminiscent of Aveline.
She was a shape-shifter, of all things. He had heard of them in the Imperium, but to the magisters they were simply the most barbaric of mages. They were no more worthy than slaves or any more civilized than the Chasind. They might as well have been actual wolves, bears, and giant spiders. When Fenris thought about the spiders he almost always found himself laughing; Hawke hated spiders. She wouldn't even dream of shifting into one. Either way, Fenris had always seen shape-shifters as a sort of anti-magister. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, after all.
He sometimes wondered if she was secretly some sort of Chasind. Her hair always had something in it, leaves, grass, twigs, and even mud on some days, and she refused shoes in any situation. She actually preferred to sleep outside in the gardens of her estate. Sometimes it seemed that she honestly fit in with animals more than she did with humans. Her attire was relatively ridiculous as well; one could get away with calling it a robe, but in all actuality it was more like someone had managed to wrap her up in the thick fabric of a small tent. It was all held together with a single band tied around her waist and some altogether impressive folding. The thing was far larger than it looked when it was on her, and it looked quite large to begin with. When she would shift, bear or wolf, the band would come undone and the 'robe' would unfurl, letting her transform without destroying her clothing.
The more infatuated that Fenris became with her, the more he pondered this particular article of clothing. He hated it. He hated everything about it, except for how soft it was. It covered every part of her from her neck to her toes. Her hands popped out of some mysterious holes in it from time to time, and the hem was always coated in dirt. It was loose, too. In addition to hiding just about any form of skin from him it stopped him from even being able to accurately imagine what she looked like. He had gotten so desperate in the last few years that he truly wished he could get away with spying on her, but there was never a chance.
The concept of telling her how he felt had crossed his mind a multitude of times, and indeed he had tried, but she was never terribly receptive. She just smiled and nodded and told him how he was such a wonderful friend. How disappointing. She gave that smile and those kind words to everyone. So he thought, anyhow. Their situation was unfortunate, but common. It was the premise for many a story, love that both parties believe is unrequited and a barrier of communication standing between them. Luckily, the elf's resolve was wearing thin.
"Hawke! Hawke!" Merril's small voice echoed through the garden, and Fenris jolted up. He had been waiting on the only bench because he didn't want to 'wake the bear,' in this case, literally. She slept quite soundly curled up in the low heat of the sun, her deep brown fur thick over her enormous, hulking frame. He had been watching the slow rise and fall of the beast's shoulders, marveling at the majesty of the otherwise ferocious creature that somehow managed to conceal the slight frame of Hawke.
"Hawke!" Merril called again, closer this time. The bear grunted and pawed at the air before returning to ignorance. Fenris decided that it was in his best interest to simply wait; there was no point in trying to sneak away when he had come here to talk to her in the first place. As Merril closed in and saw her sleeping friend she stopped her shouting and eyed Fenris with momentary confusion. "Fenris!" she exclaimed, far quieter, "I didn't know you were here! Did you come to talk to Hawke?"
"Obviously." Fenris grunted in reply.
"Well why didn't you wake her up?" Merril did not notice his hostility. She knelt down and lightly shook Hawke's shoulders.
The bear blinked awake with a low, rumbling growl, slowly surveying her surroundings. She lumbered to her feet and lethargically walked away to some locale just out of view. It was hardly a moment before the far smaller Hawke came back, tying the band of her tarp-like garment. "What can I do for you two?"
She really didn't seem to have any idea how long Fenris had been there. It wasn't that he had come to watch her, but still, he had been sitting there for some time. Merril immediately replied to her question, "I need you to take me up Sundermount! I want to go home for a few days, but I don't want to go alone."
"I can't exactly just stay up there with the elves, Merril, I have obligations here." Hawke's denial was sweet and accented with a darling smile.
"Oh! You don't have to stay, Hawke!"
"Do you really want me coming back down the mountain, in the dark, all alone?"
"Well no, but we can just bring someone else!" Merril was quite cunning in her solution.
"And who is going to want to spend their day going all that way and back? We'll go the next time I have business on the Coast, I promise." Hawke was always genuine in her promises.
"Fenris! Fenris can come with us!"
That was just what he needed, an entire trek down the mountain with her, just the two of them, with not even the irritating distractions of Anders or Isabela to keep him from fantasizing about her. Wait, that was just what he needed! He had come here with some bogus story about the mansion just for an excuse to be around her, maybe he was desperate enough to finally say something, maybe this was his chance.
"No, I am certain that he does not-"
"I'll go." Fenris stopped her.
"You will?" Hawke questioned.
"Do you not want me to go?"
"It's not that, no! I just- didn't think you would want to be bothered with such a pointless trip." Hawke replied with a nervous edge.
"I will go." His simple answer did not ease her nerves.
"Then it's a plan! We can go now, right?" Merril was very energetic.
Hawke considered her options; it was certainly early enough. "Would you want to leave now, Fenris?"
"I don't see why not."
"Should we pack food first?" Hawke asked the both of them.
"Goodness, no! I'll light a fire and you can catch something! You are the best hunter I know, after all." Merril was positively beaming by this point, and Hawke and Fenris couldn't for the life of them understand why. It was just a trip home, but then again, she was easily excitable.
Hawke simply chuckled as they headed off, and Fenris was unusually silent, even for him.
It was a rather uneventful trip, and everything went exactly the way it was supposed to go. Rabbit for lunch, rabbit for dinner, without a larger group there was no reason to catch anything else. The danger that Merril had been worried about seemed to be avoiding them, and when they reached the Dalish camp things were still copacetic. The Dalish were as receptive as they usually were; Merril was an outcast and so was everyone with her. It was still her home though; Hawke could understand that.
After a not-so-brief discussion with Marethari, the only elf that seemed to accept the thoroughly human Hawke, on the vast variety of magic in the world, Hawke and Fenris were ready to depart. As per usual, Hawke did not realize how irritated Fenris was, having to meander about while she leisurely talked about his most hated subject. He was relieved when they were finally away from the chatter of the camp.
It was quiet, but it wasn't awkward, time with Hawke never was. Sure, it was tense, intoxicating, infuriating even, but never awkward. She had the same bounce in her step that she always had, like she somehow managed to be lighter than the weight the world had placed on her shoulders, lighter than whatever havoc she had come from. He was discreetly staring at her now, and she was absolutely radiant. At times, when his libido was in check, he wondered if her body even mattered, because nothing could possibly be more beautiful than her face.
"I haven't forgotten about you, you know?" Hawke turned to him as they walked.
"What?" He was caught off-guard.
"You came to my house this morning for something, didn't you? Did you need something from me?"
"Oh," Fenris took a moment to collect his thoughts, "I just wanted you to know that Aveline took care of the patrols around my mansion. I know you worry."
Hawke chuckled. "So you sat there for an hour because you didn't want me to worry?" Fenris betrayed the slightest bit of shock, "Oh yes, I was very awake." Hawke answered his unspoken question.
"I… did not want to wake you." Fenris reluctantly averted his eyes.
She reached for him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You're sweet." They froze for a moment. Hawke did not realize the profound affect her touch had on him. Upon noticing how ridged he became she pulled her hand away, abruptly, as though he had burned her. "I- I am sorry, Fenris."
"Hawke…" Fenris started to speak, but lost his nerve. He turned and kept walking, and Hawke quickly followed.
They walked in silence for some time. As the minutes passed Hawke began to consciously notice the movement of the shadows as the sun made its descent into the horizon. The day turned to twilight and the air cooled, and though they had started apart, Fenris and Hawke now walked very near to each other, close enough to feel the heat of the other, had they not both been so well dressed.
While Hawke watched the world, Fenris watched Hawke. He knew he had to say something. She must think that he was upset with her, that he was angry even, but he wasn't sure how to tell her anything. It wasn't that he didn't have the words, just that he was afraid if he started talking he wouldn't stop, and being alone with her like this… Well, he wondered if Anders wasn't so wrong in calling him more beast than man.
"We should probably start setting up camp. It's light enough now, but it'll get dark rather quickly, and I still need to find us dinner." Hawke spoke as they reached an appropriate clearing.
Fenris nodded to her in approval.
"Can you get a fire started while I go catch something?" She asked.
"Of course." His voice remained monotonous.
Hawke wordlessly shifted down into her wolf form, a lithe, black beast with pale eyes that was little more than a shadow if you weren't looking for it. She slinked away into the backdrop of the trees while Fenris mindlessly went about his task. Upon its completion she had still not returned, though that was to be expected. He sat on a long log near the fire pit and pondered her, for the hundredth time today; he was able to think of little else. He would tell her how he felt, he had to. It was eating at his very soul, this emptiness he felt when she wasn't around, and the distance he felt when she was.
Even now he found himself staring at the heap of cloth she had left behind, wishing for her swift return. He realized that later in the night she would be gone again, as she usually was. He did not know what possessed her to run around in the dark, but each night he would awaken to the soft sound of her padded feet disturbing the earth. That was troubling to him. Her very presence seemed to calm him, and he was restless when she was away.
At the zenith of his thoughts she returned, carrying with her a large, completely dead, rabbit. She dropped it at his feet and lay down next to the fire. He was slightly puzzled by her behavior, "Are you just going to stay like that?"
She raised her head to him, rolled her eyes, and settled back down.
"You do need to eat, you know." Fenris pointed out. Hawke was much different as a wolf, far snarkier, far more devious, and altogether more nonchalant than she normally was, which caused Fenris to respond in kind.
The wolf sat up on her haunches and stared at him, unwavering.
"You already ate, didn't you?" Fenris asked, realizing the obvious.
Hawke nodded once, slowly enough to be condescending.
"Just couldn't wait, huh?" Fenris mentioned dismissively.
She looked puzzled at his question, not seeing why he was upset.
"Never mind, Hawke, never mind."
That tone she knew, disappointment. She eyed him while he set up his meal to cook, and when he had sat back down she stood. She paced her way around the fire and curled up at his feet. In a moment of boldness he reached down and pet her as he would a dog. She jumped, and for a second he believed that he had offended her when that had not been his intention, but she simply readjusted herself and leaned into his hand as he rubbed one of her soft ears.
"Hawke…" He began, and she perked up, "I did not come to the estate today to tell you about patrols. I just- I only came to see you."
Hawke looked up at him, her eyes wide and hopeful, waiting for some sort of explanation.
Fenris didn't know how to begin, so he stopped trying to think and just spoke, "You invade my thoughts at all hours, Hawke. I have tried to keep myself from you, but I find such efforts futile. I am not at peace when you aren't near me. I am sorry if I have made you uncomfortable, but I cannot continue to keep quiet. Just tell me, tell me that you feel nothing for me, and I will never speak of it again."
Hawke's features did not change as they normally did as he rambled on; they remained static until he had finally stopped to breathe. He saw nothing in her canine face, no hint at what she could possibly be thinking as she stood up and walked away. He watched her in a mute horror, certain that she was about to utterly reject him. Hawke crawled into her discarded garment and brought herself to her feet, human once again. She did not bother tying her waistband, which left it looking more like a flowing dress with far too much material.
Hawke returned and sat by his side. He could not take his eyes off of her, but she stared at the slow crackling fire. Her hands lay folded together in her lap. Fenris was certain that the entire Age had passed before she spoke, "Fenris… You do realize that I'm a mage, right?" She sounded hurt.
He was shocked, to be sure. Instinctively he reached for her hand, and suddenly she understood how he had felt hours prior when she had touched him, but the lyrium that lined his fingers sparked an even deeper connection. "Hawke, I do not care. It has nothing to do with who you are."
She did not pull away from him, "But it does, Fenris. Do you understand how little time I actually spend being… human? Before this I lived primarily among beasts."
"So did I, Hawke." He now held both of her hands in his, "I understand. That is why it has taken me so long to talk to you, but I know that your magic does not dictate your choices; it only helps you act on them. I will not tell you that I have gotten over my hatred for the Imperium, but I am intelligent enough to understand that not every mage is a magister."
"I'm glad." She replied, and silence fell upon them. Hawke knew what she wanted to do, but lacked the overtness to act on it, so after the moment had settled she spoke, "Fenris, if you want- could you-" she sighed, trying to force the awkward words out of her mouth, "could you kiss me, please?"
He was tempted to be aggressive, to grab her and crush his mouth to hers, but he knew there would be another time for such behavior. Instead, he moved slowly. Fenris raised his hand to cradle her head as their lips met. She mimicked him and ran her fingers through his hair with the lightest of pressure. It was a perfect moment.
They parted just enough for Hawke to speak. "Again?" She asked, her tone yearning.
He did not hesitate, this time meeting her with more force. Hawke gave the lightest of moans, and her lips parted for him. He pulled her body to his with a firm arm around her waist, delving his tongue into softness of her mouth. For the first time he could make out the slight frame under her heavy robes; she was almost unnaturally tiny. She gently pushed back against him, barely focused on her own actions. It had been so long since she had any real contact with another person. Aside from the occasional handshake her human skin never touched anyone else's.
Even with the limited touch she could feel the lyrium's power, the magnetic pull that caused her to drift closer to him even in their day to day travels. She wanted more. His fingertips were a tingling fire; the places where they touched her blossomed with a strange, almost sparkling warmth, effecting the magic that was such an integral part of her.
Fenris finally pulled away to look at her, laying his palm flat against her cheek. After a few moments had passed the feeling began to spread past the immediate area. It slowly crawled down her neck, over her shoulders; it was much akin to being submerged in a pool of water. Hawke could do nothing but stare back at him, and when it reached the tips of her breasts she cried out.
Fenris immediately pulled his hand away, fearful that he had somehow hurt her though the noise was counter indicative. "Hawke, are you alright?"
It took her a second to collect herself. As soon as he moved his hand the mystical feeling was gone. It left in a rush much different from the manner it had come about and left her feeling almost cold. "I'm better than alright, Fenris, it's just- your touch is, different." He looked confused, so she continued, "It's the lyrium, and I don't think I could explain it if I wanted to. It is… divine."
He smiled a cute, devious little smile, but when a realization hit him his expression drew dark and tortured. He turned away from her and buried his face in his own hands. She couldn't fathom why he had such a reaction, and her face plainly showed her worry. "Fenris, what is it? Did I do-"
"No, Hawke." Fenris quickly stopped her, "You haven't done anything wrong."
"Then tell me, is there anything I can do?"
He was astounded with her once again; she would rather know what she could do than what the problem was. He imagined that had it been anyone else they would have pushed him for information, but she hadn't. She was more concerned with making him feel better. It was very like her. "I don't think so, I just remembered… Danarius…" his voice sounded pained, but although he hadn't intended to, he snarled out one last angry word, "Magic."
Hawke recoiled. She hadn't even considered the possibility of what he vaguely implied, and now she felt like he was comparing her to that monster. She knew that wasn't his goal, but it seemed that way nonetheless. He was upset, but not blind, and when he saw what he had inadvertently done he sought to rectify it, "Hawke, no, I didn't-"
She cut him off this time, "I know, Fenris, I know." She smiled to reassure him and motioned in the direction of the fire, "You should eat. Rabbit always makes me feel better."
He nodded, not sure quite what to say. The rest of the night was uneventful. He asked her if she was still hungry; she said no. He apologized for ruining the moment; she told him he had nothing for which to apologize. Eventually they said goodnight, and she shifted back down to her wolf form to settle into sleep. As expected, a few hours later he heard her quietly creep away into the dark of the forest.
A few days after they had returned to the city, Fenris was feeling much like he had ruined everything. He was sure he was blowing things out of proportion, but seeing as she had seemed very distant the day after their trek, and avoided him altogether since, it was a fair assumption. When she knocked on his door that night he was already halfway through a bottle of self-loathing.
Hawke was in a similar state. Despite his assurances she felt as though her magic doomed any chance they had. Moreover, the emptiness she felt after he had broken contact with her was worrisome. What if she were to become addicted to it? She genuinely cared about him, but what if that touch became more important to her than he was? She had gotten over most of her anxiety in the time they spent apart, but retained some of her reservations. The most troublesome aspect though, was her own fear. The minute amount of pleasure she had received was so consuming, how could she possibly handle more?
"Can I come in?" Hawke asked with a naïve smile.
Fenris was relieved to see her. He ushered her through the door and to a mildly clean living room. They sat in an awkward silence after the basic 'how do you do's were done with. Hawke was the first to speak, "I'm sorry, I should have come to talk to you sooner. I've just been worried."
"It's alright, Hawke, I understand." He sensed the nervousness in her voice, "What troubles you?"
"I want to," she seemed to search for the right terminology, "be with you, but I am admittedly afraid."
"Of me?" Fenris asked, bewildered. This woman fought Qunari and blood mages quite frequently, and she had never shown any hint of fear toward him.
"Well, yes and no. Not you, per say, but," she sighed, tripping over her own words, embarrassed, "Fenris, I've never…"
"You've never? Oh… Oh." He processed what she meant and almost didn't believe her, "Really?"
"Really." She confirmed, "I was almost literally raised by a pack of wolves. I had neither the opportunity, nor the interest."
Hawke rarely mentioned her past, so Fenris had to wonder whether she meant actual wolves or other shifters. He carefully pondered how to proceed, "Hawke, if you aren't ready for this, you don't have to."
Her response was oddly indignant, "I know that." Then she sighed, "I know what I want. I just, don't know how to go about it."
"Then tell me what it is you want." His request was straightforward; he couldn't be too sure about this. If he was somehow misinterpreting this situation he needed to know before he let his libido take the reins.
"I-" Hawke stuttered. She hadn't expected this; she was sure he knew what she meant. "You. I want you, Fenris." She greatly over-enunciated to imply her true meaning
Fenris did not quickly reply. His mind turned as he watched her. She looked more innocent and vulnerable than she ever had, and he loved it. As the seconds passed she grew increasingly nervous. The way he was looking at her was animalistic and only exacerbated her fears. Almost as if in response to her worry his expression neutralized. "You're certain?"
"Yes." Hawke spoke quietly.
His own worries seemed to surface with her reply. At the forefront of his thoughts was the irrational fear that she was using him, and although he knew she was incapable of such a thing, it still troubled him. "Hawke, do you love me?"
"Of course I love you, Fenris." There was not a second of hesitation before her reply, as though it was just a given fact. "Why would," she paused, cheeks flushing red before finishing her thought, "why would I offer myself to you if I didn't?"
Her choice of words not only made his heart leap, but his pants more uncomfortable than they already were. Fenris laughed, "I love you, too, Hawke." The inflection of his words made it sound like he had already said it a thousand times, "Come with me."
He held out a hand to her as he stood. She took it and followed him as he led her through the halls of his dilapidated home. She hadn't seen much of it past the main living area they always met in and what she remembered from their very first time there. Though she wasn't terribly concerned with her surroundings it was clear that the mansion did not receive adequate attention. However, when they stepped into the room he was obviously headed for it was almost as if she was in different building entirely.
It was spotless and well kept. There were two dressers that most certainly had nothing in them, a full length mirror in one corner, and a lavishly sized bed adorned with a deep blue comforter. "Like what you see?" Fenris asked.
Hawke closed the distance between the two and placed her hands on his chest. "Yes, I do." She looked him directly in the eye as she spoke, ensuring that he knew she wasn't talking about the room.
He chuckled, deep and sincere, wrapping his arms around her, "I'm glad." He kissed her, and she responded boldly, pressing herself up against him.
Their passion steadily escalated, and Fenris soon found himself in only his underclothes. Despite the new expanse of possibilities, Hawke's hands did not wander. She was still terribly inexperienced and unsure where to begin. It was Fenris that first tugged on the belt to her offensively covering garment, pulling it free with little effort. She broke their current kiss in order to assess the situation, like she hadn't realized she needed to take it off. Her momentary shock subsided and she stepped back, leaning down to grab the hem of the robe. She lifted it up over her head and let it fall in a heap on the ground.
Fenris's mouth hung open. She was perfect, and completely nude. It hadn't hit him that she didn't wear anything under the robe. She was even smaller than he had imagined, so fragile. Her skin was pale, as it rarely saw the sun, and her breasts were pert handfuls, tipped with lightest tan nipples. When his gaze traveled lower she reached to cover herself, but he would have none of it. On a primal instinct he rushed forward in a cerulean flash, grabbing her wrists. She would have panicked had the flood of sensation not been so strong; she fought to stay standing.
Between the two there was a minute amount of thought as he pushed her back towards the bed. There was little Hawke could do but submit to him as she adjusted to the lyrium-induced state of pleasure that enveloped her. With his body pressed against her he could feel the hard peaks of her chest against his, but her kiss was no longer responsive. He pulled back and brushed the hair out of her eyes. "Hawke?"
Her breath came in heavy, desperate pants, and she carefully raised an arm to hold on to him, her petite fingers grasping at his flesh. The feeling Fenris caused was almost exactly like being underwater, covered, surrounded, but without the threat of death. He was surprisingly patient with her, waiting for her regain the better portion of her functionality. It was a slow process, but eventually the initial shock faded, and she was left with a low, pleasing hum. She could feel the exact patterns of the lines on her skin, as they still caused an intense thrill.
"I… I'm alright now." Hawke touched his face and placed a light kiss on his lips. He smirked at her and went back to his kisses, trailing down her neck as his free hand moved to softly knead her breast. Everything was so intense and unfamiliar that even the lightest of touches caused her to moan. When he began to sweetly suck on one nipple he abruptly pinched the other, and Hawke threw her head back and arched her chest towards him. Fenris continued to relentlessly manipulate the tender flesh, though he was careful not to be too rough with her.
Eventually Hawke's moans died down, which he took as a sign to move lower. He kissed her lips and retained eye contact with her as he settled between her legs, running his hands up her thighs. She watched him, mesmerized, while he slowly parted her legs. He ran his fingers up her slit and she shuddered, muttering his name. "Are you ready for this, Hawke?" Fenris asked, leaning in to breathe on her most sensitive skin.
Her words were strangled as she gasped an approval. "Yes, yes- I- more."
When she spoke his expression changed, love morphing into something more devious. He made it a point to breathe heavily as he spoke, "Are you certain you want more?"
Hawke's body ached for him; his attentions had left her in such a state of arousal that she wasn't even sure what she wanted, just that she wanted it. "Please, Fenris, please."
Her desperate pleading unhinged him. He was neither sweet, nor merciful as he latched onto her clit. Her cry was closer to a scream, and she bucked against him, trying to escape the sudden intensity. He held her down though, and while her volume didn't decrease she started to recite a mantra of his name, "Fenris, Fenris, oh Fenris!"
His tongue dipped down to her entrance, and her hands immediately reached for him. When he felt her fingers thread through his hair he looked up at her, as if seeking a final okay. She smiled back at him, and he pressed on, delving into her. Her voice seemed to leave her; the only sounds that escaped her were small keens as she focused on the feeling of him wriggling his tongue inside her.
"I… I'm ready, Fenris." Hawke spoke dreamily after an indeterminable amount of time had passed.
He pulled back and lifted himself up to kiss her again. She tasted herself on his lips, an erotic mix of femininity and his own flavor. When they finally broke apart Hawke dared herself to look down, and found that at some point he had already removed his final bit of clothing. It was startling to her, this thing that protruded from him, stiff and tall. Though she had no comparison, she assumed it had to be above average size, and the lyrium really did go all the way down. The way he was poised over her was quite frightening; she was afraid that he would lunge at her in an instant, but she trusted him. He wouldn't hurt her.
She reached down to tentatively graze the hard, hot length with her fingertips. He shuddered at this first contact and grabbed at the sheets. Hawke then moved her hands up his chest to rest one on his face while she wrapped the other arm around him. "Please," she said, "be gentle with me."
Fenris nodded and placed his hand over hers, "I love you, Hawke."
"I love you, too." She whispered back to him.
A/N: As usual, leave me a review if you see fit! Don't be shy! I really do love them!
AND WASN'T THAT THE MOST RIDICULOUS THING YOU'VE EVER READ?