This was written originally as a response to an Anon's prompt on kinkmeme and a few requests from friends, but grew to be so much more. It ran away from me, and before I knew it I had 10 pages in Word _

I apologize if there are some typos anywhere. Just in case, I'm going to give the following warnings:

*******************]THIS IS WRITTEN FOR A MATURE AUDIENCE; THERE ARE SPOILERS PRESENT********************

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Dragon Age and am not writing this for any profit (just emotional happiness).

All written to listening non-stop to Fenris's GORGEOUS soundtrack - so if you want to feel the mood I felt as I was writing, I recommend plugging that in.

To give a bit of a back story - this takes place in Act 2 where f!Hawke (rogue) duels the Arishok. For the sake of the story, I'm going to say that the night at the estate after Fenris killed Haydriana, he rejected Hawke's offer to stay and walked out. He did not return later - he simply rejected her and they didn't bring it up again. They did not really have any romantic interactions after that (nothing happened between them - not even a kiss).

As always, comments help inspire and bolster authors, and I would LOVE to know what you guys think!

So, without further ado -

LIMERANCE

Chapter 1

The Champion lay dying.

Without end, blood seeped through the thickest of bandages – relentless as a rushing river.

In his mind, he knew that he should be doing something, but an unfamiliar feeling was cutting off his rationale. It was the shattering of confidence, it was disbelief, it was helplessness, and – most of all – a deep, dark, terror that he had never thought to feel.

He – Fenris – feared nothing. It was an emotion as alien and foreign as the affection that this woman had stirred in him all those years ago. He had no memory of ever feeling it before, yet now that it wormed through his very soul, he knew it for what it was without having to recall any experience with it. It was the thought of losing her – the notion of her disappearing somewhere past his reach – that drove him mad.

He had never seen her so still; always, she was moving – running, walking, fighting, gesturing. She was the very essence of vitality, her mere presence enough to stir the dead hollows of his heart. Now, however, she lay – motionless – on his bed, her eyes closed, her face as white as chalk. Even her lips, which were normally soft and alluringly rosy, were now turning an alarming shade of blue.

Why had he brought her here – to a place where they were so far away from assistance? Truthfully, he had no immediate answer. As he rummaged through his things, looking for elfroot potions, he wondered why he hadn't simply taken her to that fool, Anders, for healing. But therein lay the answer – the man was a fool, and an abomination. He had never been able to swallow his magic touching him, even if it was for healing or assistance. Now, to have him touch Hawke with the same magic when she was in such a state, was a solution he could not imagine turning to.

What does magic touch that it does not spoil?

Nothing – his mind replied. In his entire life, he had yet to see magic work without some form of consequence. For now, Anders was himself – mostly – but who knew what could trigger him to lose control? Hawke was too vulnerable now to risk that. Or was it he that was too vulnerable? Had he allowed her too close? Would his instincts of self-preservation stand by while his desires were crowned rulers of his actions? His hands paused in their search; his eyes grew distant. He forced himself to try and reason through his overwhelming restlessness, even knowing that – when it came to Hawke – there was hardly anything that made sense.

He could barely recall the events after her duel with the Arishok. It had been a brutal battle; the two combatants were both equals, despite the staggering difference in their size. She had always been lean and lithe in form, but appeared dwarfed against the mighty Qunari. They were a mountain and a hill – a mighty bear to an agile fox. The Qunari's enormous sword swung wide and fast, but she was faster. She dodged, and jumped, and whirled around, dancing around her foe until he seemed disoriented. It was in these precious seconds that she struck, burying her daggers deep into the warrior's exposed back and sides until he fell to one knee. Yet, for all her prowess on the field and all her lightning reflexes, she failed to see her foe's deception. As she relaxed her battle stance in anticipation of a victory, the mighty bear reached up and tore one of her daggers from his side, slashing outward in an unexpected display of agility.

He could recall how the Arishok had fallen – dead – to the ground, how the fearful silence of the crowd suddenly became a roar of cheering. His own spirit had soared to see her persevere, only to feel his heart drop into his stomach as he saw her stumbling towards him. At first, he was confused; he could not see any injuries on her. But, when she collapsed – senseless – into his hold, his hands slipped on blood. In his attack, the Arishok had used her own dagger to tear a long gash down her back, right between her shoulder blades. From here, everything was hazy in his mind.

Someone had offered assistance – someone had offered to run for the help of a mage. He did not wait for that – imagining magic touching her at such a critical time nearly made him sick. The thought was enough to spur him into action; almost effortlessly, he gathered her into his arms and ran.

"Fenris?" Her voice startled him out of a haze of brooding. He jumped to his feet and practically fell to his knees before the bed, wanting to grasp her hand yet fearing of moving her at all. There was so much he wanted to ask – was she in pain? Was she going to be alright? He desperately wanted to apologize to her; he had instigated the duel; he was responsible for her pain and suffering. All these thoughts gathered together to form a mass of jumbled words that would remain trapped behind an unyielding dam of pride and fear – pride, for he could not apologize, and fear of losing her if he did not.

"Fenris…where is the Arishok? The city…the Qunari…" Her eyes were open now. They were his windows to a green paradise he'd always wished to touch. Even clouded with pain and confusion, they were the most beautiful color he had ever seen – even greener than the meadows of Saheron during Spring. He reached out to her, despite himself, and gently brushed his fingers across her cheek, careful to be gentle lest his armor cut her skin.

"The Arishok is defeated. You have saved the city." She sighed, then – a sound full of relief and exhaustion.

"Thank the Maker…"

"You were injured," he added hastily.

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time," she replied breathlessly. Her brow furrowed when she saw the tortured look on his face. "Fenris – I'm alright. Don't call Anders. He has enough to deal with healing the injured of the city." Her eyes moved in a quick inspection of her surroundings. "Where are we?"

"In my home," he answered in a low voice. "I brought you here after the duel. I…don't know why." For a moment, their eyes met. Green to hazel. Then the door slammed open behind him and the moment was lost. A hoarse shout cut through the silence as a knife through silk.

"Where is she?"

Fenris did not have to turn to recognize the owner of the voice. Anders' scratchy baritone was as distinct to him as the sound of breaking glass. Resentment welled up in his chest, for he knew that this mage had come to do what he could not – to save the woman that was the center of his universe while he could only watch. Silently, he allowed the man to shoulder him aside, his hands curling into fists as he watched a blue glow surround Hawke's back.

"How could you do this, Fenris – put her in danger like this? Why didn't you wait for me?"

Fenris looked down at his clenched fists. He had nothing to say to that.

"Be still, Hawke – if I had known that you were hurt, I would have come here sooner."

There was a catch in his voice, almost like he was holding something back. It would have been useless for a man who knew nothing in the field of sentiment to try to understand it, yet – in that moment – Fenris knew that Anders still loved Hawke. The knowledge was like wildfire; it spread through his veins like burning poison. It was jealousy – as black as tar. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding painfully together. He did not dare to turn back to look at the sight before him, lest he see confirmation of the mage's feelings on his face.

"Enough, Anders. Stop before you hurt yourself." He stole a glimpse at them and saw that Hawke's hand had come up to rest on Anders' forearm. "You've closed the wound. The rest will heal on its own, in time." She glanced at in his direction. "Once Fenris finds me some Elfroot."

"I won't leave you here like this," the mage protested. His tone bellied his obvious anger.

"You will," she replied firmly.

"It's his fault," Anders gestured angrily. "If he had called me sooner, I wouldn't have gone to the clinic – I would have come to you right away, I would have all of my strength." His hand grasped the edge of the bed, his fingers trembling. Instinctively, Fenris' hand went to the hilt of his blade. Anders was unstable, and strong emotions were a danger to them all.

"Anders, please stop," Hawke said in a commanding tone. Her voice seemed to douse the mage's rising frustration. "If you had come here sooner, you would not have helped anyone. Fenris only brought me here at my request."

"Yours?" the mage looked put out. With a small groan and a wince of pain, Hawke sat up.

"Yes, mine." She rolled her shoulders experimentally. "I asked him not to tell anyone because I knew that you would give up helping the injured to help me," she smiled weakly, "…just as you have done." In the wake of her admission, all three fell into an awkward silence.

There was a sudden commotion at the door. A woman dashed into the room, her face stricken. "Anders! Please! You must help!" In response to the shouting, the mage stood, looking conflicted. Without hesitation, Hawke stood and gripped his arm.

"Go, Anders." He hesitated. "Thank you for coming here – for healing me. The others need you now." Stiffly, he nodded.

"Take me to them, Lirene," he said to the woman.

After both of them disappeared and the doors were shut, Hawke let herself sit back down with a sigh. In the half-light of the dark room, the shadows on Fenris's face were deep and mysterious. His eyes seemed to glow. Anders' departure had abandoned them to drown in a thick silence. Her back pulsed with a throbbing pain, but something – perhaps the way he was looking at her – made her mind stray from all thoughts of the injury. From her position on the bed, she watched as he moved towards her slowly.

Nothing.

No sound.

Just the slight and barely audible creaking of the wooden floor as it bore his weight.

He was next to her in less time than it took for her to complete a full cycle of breathing. A pause. He watched her silently. She tried to urge herself to say something, to break the sudden silence that was causing a feeling of discomfort in her gut, but all words flew out of her mind when he lowered his hand to stroke his armored claws through her hair. It flowed through his fingers like a waterfall of ink, his face hard. The feeble rays of the moon that made it into the room through the shutters reflected brilliantly off his face, the white markings there taking on a ghostly hue. High cheek bones, wide-set eyes, a strong jaw, and full, sensual lips were all complimented by the light. She licked her lips nervously, tasting a slightly salty flavor. Suddenly, she was very much aware of the sweat covering her body.

I must look absolutely horrible…

She felt a strong need to hide somewhere where he couldn't see her in such a state of ugliness. He didn't seem to care, remaining silent and simply looking into her eyes as if he expected her to say something. She had lied for him by taking the blame for his own unfathomable actions – had Anders seen the condition she'd been in after the duel, he would have known that she had been in no state to tell anyone to take her anywhere. There was a pause of hesitation on her part before she looked up at him again. Their gazes did not part.

Then…he was leaning down, bending his knees until he sat on his haunches on the floor. Like fire from a spell hitting a wall, so did his fierce and solid aura hit hers in that moment. He looked like he was ready to devour her, so powerful was his scrutiny. She felt a hot shiver tingle up her spine. Her trembling lips opened but no intelligent thought could pass through. The moment was simply too overpowering.

His hand tightened in her hair, his eyes daring her to speak. In that second, the risk of doing so did not appeal to her. She moved to brush her hands against his face, but stopped just short of his skin, as if fearful that her touch would break him. Truthfully, such a notion was far from impossible. He felt that if she did touch him now, he would fall even deeper into the void of his need for her. Steeling himself, he prepared to break their powerful union of stares, but was not prepared for her next action. As if knowing what it would do to him, she smiled – the sort of smile that he had not seen her give since the night that they had parted over three years prior. If her eyes were the meadows of Saheron, then her smile was the radiant sun that perfected their unrivaled purity.

The words flowed from his lips before he could do anything to stop them. "I don't understand my behavior. When it comes to you, everything is twisted." His hands dropped from their place on her hips and clenched in the sheets, his sharp gloves tearing the cloth as his hands formed a powerful grip upon it. "I do not recognize myself." He gave a bitter sneer. "I cannot explain my actions, or my feelings," he looked up suddenly, "...or my desires."

Her smile faded; she looked pained, and he knew why. Their last night together stretched between them like a chasm. Was it too broad to overcome now? Was it too treacherous to even consider trying? "I…" his fists clenched tighter, "…walking away from you all those years ago was one of the hardest things I've ever done."

"It hurt, when you left…" she admitted slowly. "I did not think that anything could hurt so much. For what it's worth, I forgive you, Fenris. I understand what you were going through – I always understood. I just wish you hadn't shut me out the way you did." Her gaze moved downwards. It was so rare to see such a vulnerable look on her face – rare and hurtful. It was as though he could feel her sadness. The emotion was strong enough to make his entire body hurt. He shifted until their foreheads were touching, closing his eyes at the feeling of her skin.

"I was a fool, Hawke. Everything was happening so quickly. I was changing – my hate was fading, and I had no idea how to live without it. I'm not sure I do even now." Her fingers weaved into his silver hair, sending shivers down his spine. "I have drowned myself in solitude, hoping that the silence of this place would help me find myself, but I am as lost now as I was that night." Gently, he pushed on her shoulders until their eyes met once more.

"I still don't know how to treat you, how to show you what you mean to me…"

"Then, don't say anything," she interjected. "Just – come closer, Fenris." Her hands pulled on him until his face was trapped against the crook of her neck, their chests touching, her arms holding him tightly against her. "I cannot breathe when you are away from me." His body hurt again – ached with a desire to return her embrace. Yet, stubbornly, he renewed his grip upon the mattress.

"Why do you persist in this?" he asked with a groan. "I am not the one who can give you what you seek; I am not the one who can make you happy." When she did not release him, frustration bloomed in his chest. Heedless of her injury and the ridges of his armor, he grabbed her hands and tore them away from him, pushing them down to her sides.

"Command me to leave you," he said gruffly. "Command me to walk away from you, and I shall…"

"I could no sooner command my heart to stop." She reached forward and cupped his face with her hands, gingerly touching his markings until they gave off a dim, blue, glow. How was it that her touch burned him so painfully? How was it that, despite the pain, he wanted to be turned to ash in her embrace? "You are carved into my soul just as permanently as this is chiseled into you."

"Hawke…" he turned into her touch until his lips were pressed against her palm. His breath escaped him in a trembling sound of helpless surrender. He felt her shiver as he kissed the inside of her wrist and was undone. Whatever barrier he had worked so hard to build against his need for her was shattered; whatever iron there was that he had used to imprison his emotions melted as he saw his own desire reflected in her eyes.

Roughly, he pushed against her shoulders until she was pressed into the mattress, his lips capturing hers. It was no chaste kiss; it was much more than a way to assert his dominance; it was incredible and unforgettable. He had been lost so long without water in the desert, that when he finally found the sustenance that was her lips, he drank his fill and more. Though he knew that he did not deserve a single ounce of it, he let himself drink deeply of her strength, feeling that their kiss was the only anchor keeping him from being swept away in the raging storm.

Her fingers were brushing through his hair, a gentle touch that did nothing to soothe the ravenous monstrosity that was his desire. He felt her softness even through his armor and lamented that he could not feel more. Over three years, he had waited for this – in that moment, he realized that he would have waited his entire life. Reaching under the plates of his shoulders, he unbuckled the clasps holding his armor together, removing it piece by piece until only his pants remained.

She had asked him once if he had known any sort of attachment to anyone before. There was no way of knowing; all he knew was that the passion that he held for Hawke could not compare to anything as remotely simple as attachment. It was more than longing – it was thirst, it was hunger, it was devotion, and it was a deep, fierce, bond. He needed to possess all of her – to mold with her until there was nothing more between them. Before she could even catch her breath, he had lifted her off the bed and onto his lap, twisting his body until he stood.

She had no time to ponder the sudden turn of events. The wall was awfully hard when he rammed her against it, one knee bent to support her bottom to keep her from falling. One hand was trapping her wrists while the other cupped her face, the thumb tilting her chin upwards. She struggled against the bruising grip on her hands but he silenced her with a growl. She was shaking with anticipation when he moved his face closer to hers, his breath hitting her lips. The distance between their mouths was smaller than a hair's width.

"Do not move. If you are like this your injury should cause you little discomfort."

And indeed she noticed that she almost felt no pain in her back. In fact, she felt strange. Hot, and terribly restless. A chill on her arms made her notice what she wore for the first time. A short, loose, sleeping robe that he must have dressed her in when he'd brought her here. His breath was impossibly hot and moist on her neck. The hand that had previously touched her face roamed downward until it met the bare skin of her legs, where the robe had fallen open to reveal her thighs. She jerked at the contact, gasping when her back caught fire.

He nuzzled her neck, relishing in the smooth feeling of her warm skin against his. She arched against him. Then, a wave of pure electricity traveled up her entire left side. Her mouth opened on a gasp as she realized that his fingers were traveling further down her calf, and he took the opportunity to capture it in another sensual kiss. His tongue invaded her mouth, his hand massaging her knee until she thought she would die from the shock that was raging through her stomach. As she arched her back even further, her breasts brushed against his chest, the friction nearly driving her mad.

Her throat released a deep moan of euphoria as his tongue ran down the length of her neck. His teeth were nipping at her flesh, his pliant lips brushing against her ear lobe. Somehow, he felt different than the Fenris that she knew. His actions were less controlled; he wasn't holding anything back. He tore through the bandages on her torso, his fingers coming up to cup a breast. Jostling her until she was at a higher level above him, he growled ferociously as his mouth fastened on a rosy nipple. She nearly yelped from the unexpected pleasure that ripped through her.

"Fenris…wait…" she gasped between moans of pleasure. He wasn't sure he could, but paused nonetheless to look up. Her face was no longer pale. Color had flushed into her cheeks; her lips were slightly swollen, her hair mussed. "I've…never…" she looked away abruptly, her expression one of embarrassment. He moved back, seeing her in a new light. A virgin? Her blush was slowly becoming as dark as the color of his favorite wine. He said nothing in response to her silent implication; there was nothing he could say that could express all the things he now felt.

"I…don't know what to do…" she whispered shamefully.

"Then, don't do anything," he said, repeating her words from before. "Just, give yourself to me."

"But, Fenris – " he kissed her before she could finish her protest. Even if it was not his real name, he would have her whisper nothing else. It was a sound that he had learned to cherish. He was her wolf now, and just like his namesake, he would only have one mate – one woman – in his entire life. This time, he kissed everywhere, lifting her breasts to lick a teasing trail beneath them. His teeth gently grazed against her and this time, she couldn't control the whimper that escaped her lips. Immediately, he blew cold air onto the offended area – the action tearing another groan from her.

She could barely recognize her own voice through the haze of ecstasy that engulfed her entire body like a silver glove. He circled his tongue around her other nipple – teasing and taunting, but not touching – until she couldn't hold back any longer.

"…please…" she gasped breathlessly. She wanted to die when she felt the vibration of his deep voice against her skin.

"Please what?" Maker help her if she knew the answer to that. She was too far gone – too absorbed in the hot quicksand of pleasure that was his tongue.

"…please…" she repeated with more volume. When he moved away from her slightly, she had a fierce urge to scream at him. Her entire body was shaking like a rabbit in a snare – her pupils dilated and her breath coming in pants. He licked his way up her chest, leaving her in a state of confusion.

"Please what?" His tongue left her skin. "Please stop?"

"N-No!" She struggled madly against his grip on her wrists but he refused to let go. "Please!" Somehow, she couldn't get beyond that single, damnable, word. She arched her back farther, shaking her head from side to side, completely immersed in the throes of the inferno he ignited in her body. He watched silently, feeling his control slipping farther and farther away. Her passion was so innocent, her pleading so genuine and insistent that he felt the pain in his groin intensify. Her skin was far too smooth, her breasts far too soft, and the taste of her skin far too palatable.

"I want to hear you tell me. Please what?"

I want you at my mercy. I want to tame that savage spirit. I want to hear you beg.

"…please…more…"

That was enough for now. Already he was having trouble trying to keep himself from touching her. His mouth continued its attention to her nipple, his other hand gently kneading the other breast in a slow, deliberate rhythm.

"…please…don't stop…"

In a fit of insanity, he tore the garment completely off of her shoulder, ripping through the fabric until it hung from her hips and pooled between her legs. He wanted – no – he needed more and he was not about to stop now. Moving away from the wall, he supported her back as he stepped over to the bed. He let go of her wrists momentarily. She shook weakly against him ,and he felt a true rush of tenderness momentarily flash through him. Slowly, he lowered her onto the bed. Using his free hand, he undid the ties of his pants. He resumed his previous attentions to her body, licking all the way down to her navel. He felt her legs squeeze his waist. Emboldened by her response, his nipped at her skin and continued downwards. He wouldn't have heard her had it not been so completely silent in the room.

"…wait…"

Moving back up, he kissed her again, cupping her face and ravaging her mouth until she was too breathless to say another word. This had gone too far. Even if he wanted to, there was no way he could stop now. He felt the tension in her body, felt the heat radiating from her, and knew that he had to somehow ease her nervousness.

"It's alright," he whispered huskily against her lips. She kissed him back this time with an almost desperate sort of force, her eyes closed and her hands wrapping around him. As he parted her lips with his tongue, he carefully slid his free hand down her side until he reached the junction between her legs. Reaching under the robe, he pressed his thumb against the sensitive point there. He felt her entire body tense up and jerk as if lighting had just hit her. His own muscles suffered the same when her hips moved against his own.

No… he thought. Not yet. Moving his thumb against her pleasure spot, he ground his hips against hers in a dangerous rhythm, imitating what he really sought to do. He smoothed his tongue over her collar bone. No fabric or bandages separated her nipples from his chest this time as her breasts moved against him. He felt her nails dig into his back – a feeling that was as arousing as it was pleasurable. Release reached her surprisingly fast. Her breathing was labored, her eyes opening to reveal yet another expression he had never seen on her face – need.

He brought his hand to his lips, sensuously licking all evidence of her release from his fingers. A corner of his lips turned up and he smiled. A breeze – as if planned by some divine being – blew through the slightly open window, and his silver hair shimmered as the wind toyed with it. He looked so wild – so strangely out of this world – that she had to wonder whether she was dreaming. A foreign feeling wrapped itself around her heart, her throat constricting. Suddenly fearing that she would wake up from this dream, she called his name. He covered her hand with his own when she reached to touch his cheek, once again kissing her palm.

He leaned down and kissed her again. "There may be some discomfort now, but it will pass," he whispered as he kissed her forehead. She felt him move; then, there was pain. For a moment, it was so painful that she squeezed her eyes shut, but – just as he promised – it did not linger. He was inside her, she realized – they were joined now. It was a feeling unlike any other, knowing that nothing separated them now. As he sensed her getting used to him, he quickened his rhythm, groaning as pleasure knifed through him. Dimly, he heard her call his name again, but was too immersed in ecstasy to respond. With each one of her breaths, he thrust into her harder and faster, until he could go no deeper. A few more thrusts, and he felt her reach her peak, his own climax not far behind.

In the aftermath, they lay – entwined and breathless – against the sheets, their hands still touching. Again, he could not find words that were sufficient enough to express the full range of all his feelings. Her face rested against the crook of his arm, her hand gently running down his torso. They were silent for a long time, so long that he thought she might have fallen asleep. Then –

"So, where do we go from here?" was her tentative question.

"Do you regret being with me?" he asked, somewhat concerned. She raised up on her elbow and frowned, her eyes grave.

"Never." In response to her conviction, he smiled.

"Then…we stay together."

"You're everything to me now, Fenris. There can be no future for me if you are not in it."

She smiled, then, and he knew with complete certainty that he loved her.

To be continued...