Chapter 2

Scrolls and unfinished correspondence littered the study floor. Some of the papers were wrinkled, others torn. Hawke wanted to throw them all into the fire.

Fenris has little consideration for stationery, thought Hawke. Actually, I enjoy that he prefers to make use of the desk in more flamboyant ways. It's far more entertaining than an invitation to... Hawke squinted at a piece of parchment she had retrieved. It was an invitation addressed to her mother from Seneschal Bran.

How old is this? I can hardly read it. The Seneschal's nib definitely needed to be sharpened. How should I feel about an invitation written with an inferior nib? Mother was obviously going to attend this party. She would have tried, or possibly begged, the Seneschal's son to court me. I wonder if mother would have been so inclined if she had known that the Seneschal maintained a "friendship" with Serendipity, the transgender prostitute elf with a female body. That's probably not an odd occurrence in Orlais, but it makes heads turn in Kirkwall."

Hawke stared at the parchment with an expression reserved for sucking a lemon. What is wrong with me? Am I really becoming this much of a bore? Since when does anyone care about the plight of a nib? There may be concerns about where some people dip their nibs, but I'm certain they are not having a discussion in their heads about transgender elves and their so-called nibs!

A wadded up ball of parchment landed squarely in the fireplace. The sudden flame amused Hawke. She missed playing pyromancer. The rest of the letters would remain on the floor. It was simply too much of a temptation to watch them burn.

Hawke grabbed the decanter from the side table. The wineglass filled with a potent ruby liquid. "I dub thee, Ser Elixir of Good Times." The "elixir" made her think about what was waiting upstairs; a very lanky, broody elf, in a tub of warm water.

I bet he isn't thinking of nibs, thought Hawke. Possibly his own. She grabbed another wineglass and filled it without delay. This could be a first-rate night if Fenris cooperates.

Bodhan and Sandal smiled when Hawke entered the room.

"Mistress may I just say...," said Bodhan.

He's going to tell me it is an honor to serve the Champion of Kirkwall or thank me for letting Sandal remain, thought Hawke.

The dwarf's words continued to spill forth. "That it might be an idea to have 'the friend of the Champion' shut the study door next time, if you don't mind? It is your home of course, but I suspect we wouldn't want the Champion of Kirkwall to be caught in a compromising position."

Hawke laughed. A few drops of wine leapt out of her glass. "You mean, with my trousers down or my skirt up?"

"Enchantment," said Sandal.

"Not now, my boy," said Bodhan.

"The friend of the Champion? I didn't know Kirkwall had given Fenris an official title, or is this the insane workings of a nosey dwarf with a penchant for storytelling?"

"I'm certain I wouldn't know, my lady," said Bodhan.

"Of course not," said Hawke. "The idea of a gossiping dwarf is absolutely preposterous." Hawke tipped her head back and giggled. "Fenris will be delighted. Actually, I can't wait to see his face when I tell him. Did we order that Arcanum Dictionary of Profanity yet? I do get tired of not knowing what he is saying most of the time."

"My lady, I am only looking out for your best interest," said Bodhan.

"And I thank you. I am glad it is you and not mother," Hawke reminisced. "She would have been horrified by such a thing. Of course, she would never have mentioned it. The first rule of nobility is to admit nothing. That would have been improper. She would have marked it down to the wind or a passerby gasping for air."

Bodhan shifted from side to side. He was standing in his usual spot near the entrance of the house. His hands were clasped behind his back and his chest was bowed. He was not intimidating, just a short dwarf with impeccable beard braids.

"I guess we will leave it at that then, mistress," said Bodhan. He was disappointed and sounded like a father scolding a daughter. Hawke respected him, but she would not be made to feel guilty. That was Fenris's job.

"Good evening, Bodhan and Sandal. Please, help yourself to the wine or ale or whatever takes your fancy. It is a good night for it."

Bodhan bowed his head. "Thank you, mistress. I think we will retire for the evening."

Hawke went in search of her maid, Orana. She found her at the top of the stairs standing beside the bedroom door. The sight of Hawke made her fingers intertwine. She met the lady's eyes for only a fleeting moment.

"Master Fenris is bathing," said Orana. "I have seen to his needs. If you wish mistress, I can bathe you after he has finished."

Hawke raised a quizzical brow. "Thank you, but no." Orana's cheeks flushed a dainty pink. "Was this a service you performed for the magister?"

"Mother did," said Orana. "I am sorry if I have offended you, mistress."

Lady Hawke smiled with the type of reassurance reserved for a young child. The relationship between Hadriana and Orana's family was disturbing. It wasn't a revelation, Fenris had often confided in Hawke concerning "Danarius's prized pupil." She had been a power whore.

"Orana, I am not angry. You are kind and thoughtful. Trust me when I say those are rare qualities in Kirkwall."

"Yes, of course mistress."

"I have only one request this evening, then please do as you wish."

Orana was not accustomed to leisure. Freedom was still a foreign concept to the former slave girl. In the last month there had been inklings of budding enjoyment on her part, but, she was still incapable of independent thought. Playing the lute and speaking with Merril were the only common occurrences that suggested her life was beginning to be lived.

"What is it that you would have me do, mistress?"

"Would you please fetch a bowl of fruit? Just leave it outside the door. We wouldn't want Fenris to catch cold."

"I heard that!"

"Oh, is that what those big pointy ears are for?"

"Hawke," whined Fenris. "Would you please refrain from discussing my body parts with your maid?"

Orana bowed her head, "As you wish."

Hawke opened her bedroom door. The anticipation was reminiscent of a giddy child who was about to receive a present. Fenris was staring, a tinge of horror written on his face. He was relieved to see it wasn't the maid servant. The muscles in his shoulders relaxed.

"You looked frightened," said Hawke with a grin. "Were you expecting someone else?"

Fenris rolled his eyes. "Your maid servant offered to wash me. She chose my clothing and brought my linens."

"How awful," said Hawke. "That is her job Fenris, though I will have to speak to her about the emphatic offer to bathe others. I hate to think what would happen if Isabela learned about Orana's obsession with body washing."

"Please do," said Fenris.

"You still don't like her?"

"No."

Hawke turned her attention to the elf and his body. It was golden and strong in the light of the fire. Every muscular curve and bulge was softened by shadow. The sight of his naked wet flesh aroused Hawke. There were droplets of water on his chest that begged to be licked, supple nipples that needed to be sucked and a body that deserved to be explored. This was Fenris and more.

The heat from the bath had tinged his legs and face. He was cocooned by a bellow of steam thick enough to create a shroud above the water, one that hid the private regions. Hawke didn't mind. Of all the Elven topography, the sight she loved most was the two delicate feet that hung loosely over the edge of the tub. It afforded her the chance to study his small toes. She adored the lyrium dots on his feet.

Hawke handed Fenris a glass of wine. "Claret, your favorite." He had been eyeing it since she entered the room. "This is premium oak-aged, and I'm sharing, so feel spoiled."

"Benefaris," said Fenris.

Hawke dipped a finger in the tub. "May I wash you?

"Tell me," said Fenris. "What need is there for Orana if you fulfill her role?"

Hawke bent over and nudged his ear with her lips. "Do you think I do this for everyone?"

He made a small pleasurable humming sound. It was his noncommittal vocal way of saying he was turned on. During their flirting, Fenris had been rubbing his chest with a clean dried sea-sponge. He stopped and handed it to Hawke. There was no hesitation.

"You do not mind getting wet?" said Fenris.

"I love to get wet."

He gifted her with a snippet of laughter. It was filled with familiarity and warmth. For Hawke, it invoked a deep fondness. She was one of the few people who could make him laugh, and the only woman allowed to see him naked.

Their relationship had changed over the years. Since, Hawke had made her fortune and fame, many men had declared their undying love, sent her extravagant gifts and flattered her whenever possible, but Fenris gave nothing unless it was deserved. It was not about status or money. He liked a person or he did not. Sometimes it was too black and white. Hawke was certain Fenris would have found a companion long ago if it were not for his life in servitude. She was thankful, in some morbid fashion, that she was the first person he had trusted after three years on the run. It did not make her proud to admit that fate had given her fortune.

She knelt by the tub, determined to give him a thorough perusal. "Lay back, Fenris." He took a sip of wine and rolled his neck in a half circle.

The smell of aromatic sandalwood filled the room. It was his preference. Hawke rubbed the oil between her hands to heat it before applying it to his neck. She kneaded his shoulders with round methodical movements. The muscles relaxed under her touch.

"Did Donnic and you save the day?" said Hawke.

The trek with Donnic had been tiresome. Fenris only agreed to abandon his time with Hawke because his best friend had asked for a favor. The guardsman was trying to prove to his wife that he was competent enough to receive a promotion. Fenris had never said, but if Aveline were his wife and superior, he would feign insanity and find another occupation. Donnic was indeed a brave man.

"Yes, we apprehended the traitors," said Fenris. "Lower."

Hawke obliged. The palms of her hands glided down his neck to the small of his back and up again. He reveled in the sensation. Fenris had known few physical pleasures in his life, until Hawke had taught him the touch of lovers. He could not fathom how he had lived without a woman, though, once a month he wished he could be alone, if only for a week. Fenris finally understood how the Hanged Man remained in business.

The elf bowed his head and closed his eyes. Her hands squeezed and unfastened the knots of tension in every muscle, even those that had not been massaged. The fingertips caressed and rubbed, and the warmth created from the friction permeated throughout. He let his thoughts drift to less than noble places.

"You take only seconds to draw me in," said Fenris. His voice darkened. "Yet, your touch has been subtle."

"Because it sparks your imagination," said Hawke. "It would become boring and dull if I was to simply grab your cock every time I wanted you."

"Please feel free to try," said Fenris. "I will let you know if I tire of it."

A shower of kisses fell on his neck and ascended to the tip of his ear. The ears were an Elven erogenous zone. Fenris's eyes closed from pleasurable exasperation. He sunk deeper into the water and began to stroke the end of his cock. The tip of Hawke's tongue outlined the full length of his ear, and then descended to find his earlobe, where she licked and nibbled.

"Do not cum yet," said Hawke. "I know you're frustrated but I have more planned.

Fenris released his cock. He was losing control. "Tell me it involves my other ear."

Hawke laughed. "That could be construed so many ways."

An insistent hand pulled her towards a pair of waiting lips. They managed a few delicate kisses before it became uncomfortable. She stood and walked to the end of the tub.

"You are obsessed," said Fenris. "I won't deny you your strange pleasure."

"I suspect you enjoy it, Fenris."

"It is odd, Marian."

She took one of his elfin feet into her hand and massaged until it was no longer ticklish from the touch. Fenris awaited the inevitable. His big toe was being sucked and licked by the woman he loved at a disturbing rate. It had become a frequent happening. First, his toes would be violated and then the dots on his feet. He drank his wine faster while she indulged in her strange fetish.

"Have you been taking lessons from your Mabari? He enjoys licking my toes too."

"Shush," said Hawke. "They are irresistible."

"Maybe it is a Ferelden thing," said Fenris. He laughed at his own comment and then finished off his wine in one gulp.

After her foray, Hawke offered Fenris her hand. He refused with a smile. The elf emerged from the tub without aid.

"I appreciate the thought, Marian, but I also value my masculinity."

Hawke grabbed a towel and threw it at him. It hit Fenris in the face. He wrapped it around his waist for dignity's sake.

"Fuck, the towel." She wrenched it from his waist and threw it across the room. "Did I just insult your masculinity?"

"Not yet," said Fenris.

The entirety of his body stood before Hawke. The muscles in her groin tightened and tingled. She was aroused by the sight of him.

Fenris stared at the puddle beneath his feet. "It would appear that I am wet and naked."

"I always find that a good start to the night."

Fenris brought their bodies together. Only a thin veil of finery separated them. A trail of water meandered down his exposed chest to his belly button, where it disappeared. Hawke lazily traced the path it had taken with her finger. His nipples hardened when her knuckles brushed over them. He was waiting for her hands to go lower.

Fenris seized the rounded flesh of her ass and dug his nails in. It had left an impression. He guided Hawke's hips forward until her mound collided with his cock. As they kissed, the wetness from his body was absorbed by her clothing. The material stuck to her breasts and the outline of her darkened circles became visible. His eyes fixated on her stiff nipples. He bridged the chasm between her tits with his hands and brought both nipples close together. He licked and teased each through the sodden material. Hawke pushed her tits forward, frustrated by the barrier that withheld the touch of his tongue. She tried to expose her body but he would not allow it. To watch her writhe and feel her push against his dick made him fume with crazed need. The first moisture of his cum was beginning to pool at the top of his cock. There was an inferno building between them.

The torture pushed Hawke to the edge. If he would not relent then she would make him release. She knelt before him, a submissive gesture, and brought her mouth level with his cock. Fenris did not wait. He pushed it to her lips. The tip of her tongue spiraled around the length of him, stopping only when she had reached his balls. She nuzzled them with her nose and feathered them with light kisses. Fenris began to masturbate. Hawke grabbed his hand and swept it away. His eyes burned bright with fury.

"How long will you torture me temptress?" said Fenris. "Already, I am near the end."

Hawke took him in hand. "Come here, my love." She placed his cock in her mouth and suckled. Fenris seethed with the need to find his release. He pushed his dick against the movement of her tongue. When she slowed the pace, he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled, but she would not relent. Hawke tried to keep him from losing himself to his desire. She wanted Fenris to reach the pinnacle of elation before finally releasing.

She removed his cock and brushed the tip against her lips. When he tried to thrust, she permitted only a small portion of his length to enter her mouth. Fenris's muscles began to spasm in a fit of pure ecstasy. He did not hold back, and soon, Hawke's lips were moistened with his warm cum. When his body had calmed, he looked down at his lover. She swallowed without hesitation.

"You will be the death of me," whispered Fenris.

"You could have said that in Arcanum." She stood to be near him. "That is one phrase I know and hear often."

"And what of you, Marian?" said Fenris. "I believe it is my turn to pleasure you."

"Then come hither."