A/N: I have to give this chapter a slight trigger warning. Fenris is generally a walking trigger warning, but here we delve a bit into his thoughts on intimacy. He experiences a very brief flashback to when he was a slave. It's nothing super graphic, but I did want to give a heads up to my readers. The last thing I'd want to do is trigger somebody. This is a pretty common theme when writing Fenris, but better to be safe than to cause someone distress.
This chapter has been written for almost a month, it just took me forever to get around to the editing process. Hopefully a chapter double in length makes up for the wait! I owe many thanks to the wonderful Acherubis for a fabulous job in beta'ing this beast.
Recommended listening during the love scene: Medicine by Daughter
Fenris paces in front of the hearth of his stolen mansion, a habit he thought to be rid of since securing his freedom. For so long, his life remained suspended, living in the shadows for fear that his former Master would drag him back to the life of a slave. But Danarius is dead, and he is free at last. So, what irritates him so?
Hawke.
In the silence of his manor, it never takes long for thoughts of the mage to take root in his mind. For so long, he stayed away from the only thing to bring him an ounce of joy, afraid that his past would put her in harm's way, afraid that if they were to lay together again, lost memories would again come to haunt him. But his enemies are dead. His sins are forgiven, and there are no lost memories that torment him when they are intimate. She welcomes him into her bed whenever he asks. He is unworthy of her affections, this much he knows, and yet, he can't keep away. It is maddening how much space she occupies in his mind when she is absent from his arms. It would be too easy for him, a former slave, to be with her every moment of every day, to fall back into routines he fought so hard for years to be rid of. To obey another.
This sense of devotion he feels for her is strange and new. He's cared for her for years, in secret. But now that she knows ... now that he holds her close after they've lain together - Fenris wonders how much of that devotion is of his own free will, and how much of it is formed from old habits. Obedience is something ingrained in him from the life of a slave. And as much as he's rebelled against it, he cannot stop himself from coming to her door night after night, as if being pulled by a powerful force he has no hope of resisting. He knows Hawke is not Danarius, that he follows her because he wants to. Still, it frightens him that he may be losing the piece of him he's fought so hard to attain - his free will. He belongs to no one, and that is a source of great pride for Fenris. He enjoys his space, his freedom to do whatever he wants. His home is safe and familiar. Here, he has control over his surroundings.
So why does it bring him so much frustration to be without her?
Fenris chooses to stay away, sometimes for several days at a time. He should be happy to find quiet moments such as this, to enjoy the silence and freedom he fought for. But Hawke is the balm to his every ache, the one thing he fills his lungs with air for. And her touch - it makes the lyrium in his veins sing. The pain is there, too, but it is a constant dull ache beneath his skin. Her touch soothes him. He is not sure if it is the mana that runs through her blood or the fact that he breathes for her, but she is the only thing that can ease his suffering.
It is late, and his body aches from the evening's events, having spent his time patrolling Hightown's streets with Sebastian. He's not sure when they became friends, but Sebastian's words have provided Fenris with comfort in times of confusion, since his transition from slave to a free man often leave his thoughts muddled. He'd taken up on the archer's suggestion in seeking solace in the Chantry. It'd felt strange the first few times he'd entered the Chantry doors. Of course, he'd been there before, but always with Hawke, and always as a part of some quest she'd been roped into. But soon, Fenris found sitting in the back of the pews comforting. He will never be as faithful or devout as Sebastian, but he cannot deny the consolation he often finds. He may not have answers as to why he endured such torment at the hands of Danarius, but to believe in a higher power brings his often tangled mind a sense of peace.
"You know, when I return to Starkhaven, you're welcome to come with me," Sebastian said, as the two walked through the streets. It wasn't much of a surprise that his friend wanted to return to his homeland. What did come as a surprise was the offer to join him on that journey. Fenris never knew the pious man held him in such high regard.
"And do what, exactly?"
"You're a fine warrior. If you could train men to fight like you do, we'd be unstoppable."
"I'm no leader, and I doubt humans would want me training them."
"Then why not train elves? I bet there's plenty who would admire all you've accomplished."
"I ... haven't accomplished anything."
"No? You are your own man, living as you see fit — you give yourself too little credit."
"You are being kind."
"Not at all. Think about it."
It was a fine offer, indeed, but his place would always be with Hawke, even if he did not say as much to Sebastian.
As the pair turned a corner, they were interrupted by a gang of would-be bandits, only four in number. It had not taken much of an effort to defeat them, but Fenris had been knocked backwards into a wall by one of them, a stealthy mage. He was quick to get back to his feet and end her miserable life, but his back still aches where his flesh and bones impacted with the stone. After the brief battle, the two friends parted ways. Fenris wandered back home where a bottle of wine awaited him. The wine and the quiet provided little comfort. Mere weeks ago, he enjoyed the silence of his manor. But now, it felt empty.
Fasta vas, he should go to bed and call it a night, but he aches for Hawke. She never asks him to spend the night, but he always does after they lay together. He will never forget the crushing look on her face the night he left her, so soon after he'd taken her with his body. Hawke never pushes for more than he gives, but he does not want to risk her thinking he has any intentions of leaving her again. So on the nights they are intimate, he stays.
He would be lying if he said spending the night did not bring a bit of unease, even as her bed becomes more familiar. But it is a bed that is not his, in a house he has little control over. Often, it takes him some time to fall asleep. But oddly enough, her sleeping form next to him brings him some comfort. With any other mage, being so close to them, sleeping and vulnerable would have been a nightmare of well placed anxiety. But with Hawke, there are no demons he fears that could hurt or sway her.
It is a terrible thing, being so helplessly smitten with one, knowing very well that happiness can be torn away in the blink of an eye. Any time he's dared to dream of a life without torment, it's been ripped away from him, the cruel theatre of a cold world never allowing for a long respite. But perhaps that's the mind of a slave come again to haunt him.
Happiness does exist in the world. He's found it in Hawke. Her kind and forgiving nature shows him that even among tragedy, one can thrive and find their way. Hawke is no stranger to loss and pain. Hers is different from his, but she knows it well.
He was there the day they found her mother - dismembered and possesed. He'd not been surprised, knowing well what blood mages are capable of. But to see Hawke loose her mother in such a way tore him apart. It happened so soon after he hurt her, and he hadn't known what to say to help her. But grieve she did, in her own way. And soon after, even through pain filled eyes, she smiled again. She laughed. She drank at the Hanged Man and she took to the streets to help others who required it. Fenris watched her heal, slowly. She did not allow her pain and loss to change her. It did not haunt her every step or shape her every decision. Hawke's ability to thrive even amongst tragedy inspires him.
Fenris shuts his mansion door behind him before he realises he's even moved. His feet walk a familiar path, one he's taken many times before. But never so late as this. The moon hangs in the sky, it's white glow illuminating the streets before him. Fenris finds himself at Hawke's doorsteps, shifting from foot to foot, scolding himself for showing up at such an hour. But he's here, and if Hawke is sleeping, he can simply walk back home. After a few more hesitant moments, he knocks.
He is surprised that it is Hawke who greets him. He'd expected Bodahn, or perhaps Orana.
"Fenris. This is unexpected." Her voice is welcoming, and Fenris' heart thumps in response.
He feels even more foolish than before. "It's late. I should not have come."
"Nonsense. Come in. Please." She turns to the side, allowing him room to enter.
As Fenris steps inside, shutting the door behind him, he notices Hawke's smile, so bright and joyous that the corners of her eyes lift with glee, and he can't help the shudder that runs down his spine in genuine happiness.
"What brings you here at this hour?"
"I … "
He shifts from foot to foot. What could he say? That she's been a constant distraction every second he is away from her presence? That he can barely breathe without her? That he's never been more afraid to lose something in his entire life? The only words that can push past his lips are, "I am unsure."
"That's okay. You don't need an excuse to see me. No matter the hour."
Her words fill him with reassurance and warmth. She smiles at him again, and it is another reminder that he is undeserving of her. He pushes those thoughts to the side, though. They were the thoughts that kept him from her for three years. They have no place here. Not when he promised himself to her. Not when she deserves the moon and stars, and everything else in between.
He steps forward into the main hall. There are no signs of her servants.
"I had thought to be greeted by one of your staff."
"They are off duty now. Orana was just relieved. She drew me a bath. I was about to get in." He notes the white satin house robe wrapped around her form. "Would you care to join me?"
Fenris has not come here for this. That she often offers her flesh to him is but a welcome gesture. He almost tells her that she means more to him than the physical pleasures she offers, but the thought of her naked and wet entices him. He is weak in her presence, so he gives in to the temptress before him and says, "Lead the way."
She takes his hand in hers, and he relishes how soft and delicate her flesh is against his own. Hawke leads them up the stairs, and opens a door to a room next to hers. As they step inside, a slight fog greets them, the room balmy from the heat of the water. She closes the door behind them. Several well lit lanterns and candles brighten the room, and Fenris takes in his surroundings.
"This is the one room I changed." She says. "I've never cared much for fancy furnishings. But I really wanted a nice tub."
The tub may be the most lavish one he's seen, and that is saying a lot from his days in Tevinter. It is made of stone, accenting the white marble floor, and easily large enough for the two of them to fit.
Hawke undoes her robe, revealing that she is completely naked underneath. To think that only a thin sheet of fabric concealed her form from him as she sauntered about the estate has him aching for her already. After dropping her robe to the floor, she helps him unbuckle his armour. With his armour out of the way, he removes his clothing, folding each garment before setting it neatly on a chair.
"Maker's breath, Fenris. What happened to your back?" Hawke exclaims, instantly rushing to his side, running a careful hand down a particularly tender spot on his back. He can feel her fingers shaking slightly against his skin and even though the light touch is painful, it makes him shudder with excitement nonetheless. He turns his back to the mirror, taking a peak over his shoulder. He can see that he is bruised and purple just under his shoulder blade. Turning towards her, he lifts a comforting hand to her cheek as he looks into her wide, worried eyes.
"Sebastian and I were attacked tonight. It was nothing we couldn't handle."
"Still, it looks like it hurts. You should let me heal you."
He feels her mana as it is called to her fingertips, but she does not cast a spell. Her eyes seek his for permission. It is a gesture he appreciates. He's noticed that when they are alone, she seldom turns to her magic; that she will ask for permission to light a fire using her spell. She is always thoughtful, and for that, he is grateful. Fenris gives her a nod of his head. She turns him around, and he faces the mirror. Her hands caress his back, her mana flowing through them and into him. The ever familiar tingle of lyrium within his skin sings as mana flows through his brands. Lyrium and mana entwine with one another, swirling together as if to create an entirely new substance. She's healed him before, so many times he could not count, but never as intimately as this. A shiver runs down his spine, and he needs to feel more of her touch against him. Fenris turns, and takes her into his arms, holding her close.
Her arms wrap around his neck, and she kisses him below his ear. Heat pools in his groin, but nervous knots form in the pit of his stomach. Fenris feels vulnerable most like this, here without their clothes on. When they are apart, he always longs to have her bare before him. To see her without her clothing. But being without his own clothes takes him back to unwanted memories. He's learned not to fear battle - he was conditioned to welcome any pain associated with a staff or a blade. But it was in the moments when he was instructed to remove his shirt, that the pain of a whip or humiliation of an unwanted touch would come. It hurts him now, that even a touch meant to soothe his aches and calm his mind, that he is reminded of another.
"Let's get in before the water cools."
Hawke climbs into the tub, sinking to the bottom. The water sits just below her breasts, lapping at her skin, leaving her glistening in the light. His eyes roam her body, taking in every dip and curve, as if to commit her to memory. He follows her lead, climbing into the tub at the opposite end, closest to the wall. He awkwardly sits, unsure where to put his legs, until she takes each foot in her hand and places them at her sides.
"There. Comfortable now?" she asks, and he chuckles.
"As comfortable as one can be."
He has never bathed with someone before and always thought it to be pure necessity. Get in, wash up, get out as quickly as possible. As he ponders the thought, he takes note of several jars and bottles perched on the edge of the tub. Cocking his head to the side in curiosity, he picks up one and opens the lid, carefully sniffing. The contents smell of flowers and something sweet. Honey, perhaps? He can't quite figure it out but he likes the scent and so he just as carefully tips the bottle and watches as the cool, cream-colored liquid lazily drips into his open palm. He can feel Hawke's eyes on him and he can sense her amusement but he tries not to let himself be embarrassed by it as he rubs his fingers together. The syrupy liquid leaves a slick film on them, slowly turning into lather as he keeps on rubbing. He's never seen soap like this, never thought it could feel and smell so … pleasurable. As a slave, he had been given bars of something that only vaguely resembled soap, crumbling in his hands as soon as he rubbed it onto his skin. The soap he uses at home was not much different, simple bars for cleansing. There had not been such delicious lather and the scent … well, let's just say, they had been a far cry from what he smells right now.
"Turn around," he instructs, and Hawke moves so that her back is to him. He pulls her close, bringing her just mere inches from him, and begins to rub the soap into her back. His hands roam her shoulders, down her arms, and back up again, leaving suds in their wake. He cups a handful of water and rinses the soap off, then repeats the motion, this time, letting the water trickle over her hair, the gesture born more out of pleasure than necessity. He's seen her with soaking hair a few times, after being caught in the rain, or washing off in the sea along the Wounded Coast after battle. He's always been fascinated by the way her hair clings to her face when wet. He's thinks her to be especially erotic with damp hair. A smile tugs at his lips as he saturates her strands. After her hair is wet and dripping, Fenris takes a few more dollops of soap, and strokes up and down her spine, massaging her gently with hands that were trained to hurt. To kill. Even looking upon his hands now, after so many years of freedom, he's still reminded of a monster. That she would care for him after all he's told her of his past … .
He is drawn back to the moment as Hawke swivels in his lap, so that she faces him.
"Is it alright if I wash you?" she asks.
He ponders it for a moment, before he nods. He is eager for her touch, even if in moments like this he is reluctant. It's sometimes difficult for Fenris to accept her affection, no matter how much he yearns for it.
Hawke takes a cloth from the edge of the tub, and soaks it liberally in the water. She wrings it out, before applying a dollop of soap to it. A hand hesitantly presses to the front of his shoulder. Her eyes meet his, and he can't help but smile. She's so attuned to him sometimes, it leaves him awestruck. Fenris places one of his hands over hers.
"Like this," he whispers guiding her hand. He leads her fingers and the cloth down his chest, careful of the swirls of lyrium that circle around his nipples. Discomfort is always there, a dull thrum under his skin. Touching his markings directly can result in more intense pain. But when she touches him … her mana soothes the aches. Danarius often used his mana to stimulate his markings - to inflict agony. But it never hurts with Hawke. Not when she is so tender and gentle with him. He is simply not used to being touched with such care. It is his sincerest hope that one day, she can freely rub her hands over every inch of him without any of the anxiety that follows.
Their hands move together, up and down his chest in broad strokes, until he lets go and allows her to wash him off with clean water. She runs her slender digits down his chest, letting the water cleanse him. Fenris takes one of his hands, laying it on top of hers once more. His heart hammers beneath her touch, and he thinks to tell her that it beats, only for her. But he cannot find his voice, so he kisses her instead. He cups her face as her taste fills his mouth. It is not long before he is wanting more. Greedy fingers roam her arms, down to her waist, until he discovers they are digging into her skin. He eases up his grip, but keeps them in place.
"Hawke." His voice comes out much lower than it had when last he spoke. He sounds needy, and it embarrases him, that he whines for her touch. Hawke lifts his chin so that he is forced to stare into her eyes.
"What do you want, Fenris?"
He does not know exactly what he wants, but he needs to feel her hands upon him, for he aches for it. "I need your touch."
A soft hand grips his member, and he hisses through his teeth. He's not in pain, but her firm grip around him has him nearly seeing stars. He wraps his hand around hers, so that together, they bring him pleasure. Their hands move together, pumping up and down. A soft sigh passes through his lips, the pressure of her flesh squeezing him sends jolts of euphoria through his body. He removes his hand, dipping it into the water and between her legs. Fenris uses the pad of his finger to swirl around her clit, eliciting gasps from his lover. Silken heat envelops his finger, as he pushes one inside of her, and all Fenris knows is he wants to be inside of her. But not yet. She is far more reactive after he plays her body as if it is an instrument first.
A second finger presses into her. Fenris keeps still, watching her face closely as her eyes flutter shut. A good sign. It brings him tremendous satisfaction to see her pleasured reactions to his efforts. That he can cause the tremble of her lip and the shuddering sigh that follows brings him pride.
"Fenris … " she chants his name and he swells. Her eyes open, hazed and pleading. "I … I want … ."
"Yes, Hawke?" His fingers continue to plunge in and out of her heat, as he holds her close to him. "What do you want?"
Her breath shakes, and her fingers squeeze him tight and all he can think of is how bad he wants to be inside her, and then she says, "I want to ride you," and he goes completely still.
Suddenly he's not in the warm and safe embrace of his lover, and it is not the water lapping at his skin. Behind closed eyes he can nearly smell the sour stench of mana and blood magic coming from the Magister, as he kneels, knees aching from the pressure of the floor, naked, his head hung low as fresh welts of blood trickle down his flesh from the whip that has just broken his skin.
"I'm going to ride you from behind, my little wolf."
"Fenris?"
Hawke's voice breaks him from his thoughts. He opens his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest ferociously, his stomach nearly lurching. Her hands sit on his shoulders. She wants to … what, he's not sure. Surely her request cannot be the same thing he endured with Danarius. He's afraid to ask, but he needs the clarification.
"What would that entail, exactly?"
Hawke smiles, not a predatory gaze like the cruel Magister's, but soft and inviting.
"Well, I would climb into your lap, kissing you." She leans forward, giving him a chaste kiss. "And I would lower myself onto you, so that you slip inside me. Then I would move up and down, bringing us both pleasure."
That was … not what he had expected. Relief washes over him, and he scolds himself for not knowing any better. He'd heard Isabela mentioning this act, more times than he could count. Maybe if Isabela was such a fan of being on top, Hawke would like it too.
"I think I might enjoy that," he says, after a few too many moments of silence.
"Sit back and relax, then." Hawke smiles, and it soothes him a little.
Fenris leans against the back of the tub. Hawke slowly climbs into his lap, a firm leg placed on each side of him. Soft breasts press against the hard planes of his chest. He gazes into her eyes as she peers down at him through thick lashes. She is the vision of beauty herself, Andraste would pale in comparison. She leans forward, kissing him. The heat of her center presses against him. He wants to press up inside of her, to feel the heat of her wrapped around him as she cries his name. But he cannot move the way he wants to. The space of the tub is constricting, and he feels as if he is losing control. Here … here he needs to have control. He will follow her into battle, and heed her every order. But here, in the throes of passion? He has to take the reins. Fenris feels restricted, his insides too tight. It is as if the walls are closing in on him, the steam, their proximity, the way she hovers above him, trapping him in place … it is all too much for him to take.
"Fenris?"
"I … I need … "
"What is it?" Her eyes convey gentleness and comfort, things he desperately needs from her in this moment of panic.
"Might we take this to your bed?"
She is right there. There should be no reason for them to stop and move to her room. But he is a broken thing. His heart lurches, and he feels himself grow soft, only bringing more shame.
"Whatever you need," she says without hesitation, sliding off his body, her eyes watching him closely. Fenris hates feeling as if his emotions are on display. He ambles out of the tub, Hawke following closely behind him. Once out, she hands him a soft linen to dry himself with. She wraps one around her body, barely drying herself off, drops of water clinging to her skin. He rubs himself down quickly, before covering himself in the linen. He watches as Hawke blows out the candles, and leads him to her bedroom, shutting the door behind them.
She takes him by the hand, stepping onto her rug in front of the fire. Soft fingers entwined in his, Hawke brings her lips down to his hand. It is a simple gesture, but she could not possibly fathom the weight of this small kiss. A tender moment between lovers. He never thought someone could ever look past his brokenness. The idea of being hers has started to feel less strange, more acceptable. Sometimes, there is still doubt, though, especially when he is overpowered by the tenderness he feels for her in moments like this, where she shows him so much affection.
Is this love? He's felt this way about her ever since he can remember, the years without her slowly dragging on for an eternity. She is the cure to his aches. She can still his demons with a simple caress or hushed words of encouragement. Without Hawke, he still would not know how to read. She's shown him that while mages are dangerous, there are those that wish to do good in the world. Because of Hawke, he is free. She turned a shell of a man into something more. He often observes the relationship between his friend Donnic and Aveline. He's watched the guard Captain become softer over the months. They married not long ago, and while neither Aveline nor Donnic discuss their relationship in detail, he can see the adoration in their eyes whenever they are together. Perhaps his feelings for Hawke run just as deep as those bound as husband and wife.
"Would you like to go to sleep?" Hawke interrupts his thoughts. "It is getting late. I could even read you another chapter from Shartan. I know I used to love it when my father would read me to sleep."
Her eyes twinkle, and he imagines she is reliving a precious memory. Hawke does not talk about her late father often, but when she does, she lights up from within. Fenris does not know family, but he knows he'd give anything to always be able to make her smile the way she is now.
Fenris kisses her, hard. His linen slips from his waist, as his hand wraps into her wet hair. Drops of water fall from the strands, onto his arms. The fire's close proximity keeps him warm. His heart swells, seeing that she wants to comfort him any way that she can. She is trying to take care of him, something no one's ever done for him before. He never wants to stop feeling as content as he feels now.
His fingers go to her linen, which is wrapped more tightly around her form. He pulls it down, casting it to the side. Impatient fingers secure around her own, and he pulls her to the plush rug on the floor. She lays beside him, kissing him as soon as she finds a comfortable spot on the floor. She keeps her hands at his shoulders, as he likes, and his hands roam over her soft curves.
This … this is much better. The fire in his belly returns, and as his hand delves between her legs, he finds that she is still wet and wanting. He pushes two fingers into the heat that is Hawke. He can smell her essence permeate the air, and it makes him want to pound her into the floor. A groan slips past his lips, as he feels her flutter around his fingers.
A hand of hers drops from his shoulder, gently roaming over his chest. She does not let her hand linger, and slowly moves it back to his shoulder. He wants to chase her touch, desperately so. As much as he may be cautious without his clothes, there are times where he positively aches to feel her hands upon him. This is one of those times. Hesitantly, Fenris grabs her hand, and places it back on his chest. His voice rumbles in his throat at the return of her silken skin against his torso.
She traces her fingers along his brands, swirling along one that curves around a nipple. It is an especially sensitive spot, and while part of him wants to ask her to move somewhere else, the sensation brings him great pleasure. His markings light up ever so slightly, illuminating the hand against his flesh.
"Does this hurt?"
"It … is not unpleasant." He struggles to find his voice, his words coming out low and strained. Hawke's hand dips down, following another line. This one swirls around his navel, and once again her fingers follow its path. His stomach flutters under her touch, finding that this, too, is a very sensitive place. It boggles his mind how much she affects his body, how sometimes it leaps to meet her touch on its own accord. She has a control over it that he does not, and while that should alarm him, he cares not, for anything that can bring him this much pleasure is worth his full attention.
"I want you in my mouth," she whispers against his ear, and his body trembles in response. He says nothing, just stares, enraptured, as she climbs between his legs. Hawke looks at him, and he knows she is waiting for him to respond before she continues. A slight nod is all he can manage, feeling he is completely under her spell. He lays back, keeping his eyes glued to hers as she sinks down, enveloping his hard length in between her plush lips.
She is silk inside, and she bows all the way to the root. Hawke's eyes glimmer as she meets his gaze. She is still covered in droplets of water. One cascades down her shoulder, the fire of the hearth casting a glow around her skin, dancing around her curves. His breath catches in his chest as she comes back up, only to sink down again, her mouth suctioning around his erection. He still cannot believe she enjoys this, taking him into her mouth. But he has no desire to end it, as the pleasure boiling through him takes dominance in his thoughts.
A wanton moan vibrates around him. Fenris bucks his hips in response, his body unable to keep still. Hawke wraps a hand tight around him, and strokes him up and down as her tongue swirls around his tip. She is skilled, he knows this even if he has no one else to compare it to. It is clear she's taken other lovers before him, and he has to push that thought to the side, for jealousy has no place here in her room, when they are the most connected as one. Even more connected than the way they move together in battle, where their every movement is in sync through years of honed skill.
Fenris laces his fingers through her hair. He does not assist her in her movements, simply stroking her strands, his eyes closing as she picks up her pace. All he knows in this moment is Hawke, her velvet mouth, and the immense pleasure that pricks along his skin as she sucks him. Spittle coats his shaft, and every time she sinks down, more moisture gathers at his sack. The noises she makes fill the air - a wet smacking of lips meeting skin and soft moans around his flesh. He opens his eyes to take in her sight once more. His cock twitches in response to the lewd image of him inside of her mouth, her eyes hazed with lust. He knows if he allows her to continue, he will spill on her tongue. The thought sends a shock down the base of his spine. As much as he would love to coat her tongue with his seed, he wants to give in to her previous request. He lowers a hand under her chin as he pulls out. He waits a moment, trying to gather himself, holding her chin between tense fingers. A ragged breath passes through her lips, and her eyes are hungry for more.
"Straddle me," he demands in a raspy voice that betrays his lust. He lets go of her chin, and she wastes no time in following his request. That she would obey a command so easily and without question stirs something inside of Fenris, and he thinks perhaps it is good that she will be on top. He does not know why the thought of her being submissive to him causes his breath to hitch, but it makes him apprehensive. His thoughts do not linger as Hawke hovers above him. She takes hold of his member, and rubs it against her slit.
"Cease your teasing, woman," he grits through his teeth, and she laughs.
"Very well."
She sinks down, and he nearly sees stars as hot white pleasure builds behind his eyes. He closes them for a moment, revelling in their joining. She is all heat and warmth, and as tight as a vice. When he opens his heavy lids again, Hawke stares down at him, a look of adoration upon her face.
His heart stills, filling with a warmth he knows only as Hawke. Only she can make him feel whole. Her fingers lace in his own, and she is moving, and ... Venhedis, she feels incredible around him. Every time her hips crash down, she lets out a soft gasp, the most beautiful sound he's ever heard. He wants to hear it again and again. Fenris thinks to move his own hips, but is horribly distracted by her swaying breasts. He loves seeing her like this, taking her own pleasure from his body. It never occured to Fenris that he could enjoy giving up control like this, but here he is, thoroughly enjoying himself. He grasps her breasts with gentle hands, cupping them and watching the way she shudders when he does.
Hawke throws her head back, eyes closed, and lets out a wanton moan. It is easy for her to lose herself, and Fenris hopes that one day, he can lose himself just as easily. Another drop of bath water trickles down her neck, sliding in between the space of her breasts. It loses itself there, much like Fenris is lost in Hawke. Lost in the peace she brings his chaotic mind. Lost in the view of his cock disappearing inside of her, where they are connected as one. Fenris decides that yes, having Hawke on top is really not so bad.
Eventually, he desires a more active role, and raises his hips to meet hers. Hawke's eyes fly open at the sudden urging of his hips. Their eyes meet, and she smiles. His own lips tug upwards, and he pulls her down for a kiss. Her tongue slips inside of his mouth, and he wraps his arms around her tight. In this position, her breasts press against his skin. Their bodies hold on to one another, bringing one another as close as they possibly can. He wonders, do their hearts thump at the same steady beat?
Suddenly her mouth withdraws, and before he can protest she is suckling at the tip of his ear. He bucks up into her wildly, the desire to claim her as his takes hold of his mind. Just because he is underneath her does not mean that he can't have control. Still holding her close, he thrusts into her velvet warmth. Her arousal has him coated completely, making the smacking sounds of their joining fill the room around them.
As glorious as this new position is, Fenris still aches for that last shred of control. To have her wanton and begging beneath him. He is not used to voicing his desires, but this urge to take her the way he needs overrides any lingering anxiety.
"I want you underneath me," he says, trying to control a moan that attempts to flee his throat.
"Mmmm, I would enjoy that." Hawke withdraws from him, his erection slipping out of her and resting on his stomach, coating his abdomen with her arousal. He immediately misses her warmth. Fenris ambles to his knees, and Hawke crawls on hers. She's in front of him now, ass in the air, and as she's about to flip to her back, his hands hold her in place.
"I have a thought," he says, his voice wavering, giving way to his insecurity.
"Oh?" Hawke sounds intrigued, keeping her body still. Fenris cautiously takes his erection in hand, and rubs it against her slit. A deep breath pushes past his lips, as he stares down at her body, open and waiting. He places a hand on her ass, grabbing her generous curves. Hawke pushes back against him. She wants this. The need to dominate from earlier coils within him. Fenris knows she deserves gentleness, but the beast within him urges him to take her as she is. He pushes inside, and is met with a loud moan from Hawke.
"Yes," she gasps immediately, and it is his undoing. He bucks his hips into hers, any thoughts of gentleness forgone. A loud cry comes from his lover as he drives in and out of her sheath, made tighter in this position. Hawke's head rests upon her arms, ass high in the air. Fenris is enraptured by the view. He can see every slide of his cock entering her welcoming warmth, every ripple throughout her flesh when his hips connect into her. He keeps his hands glued to his sides as he takes her again and again. Fenris wants nothing more than to grab her hips tight, to squeeze her flesh as he takes his pleasure. But he needs some restraint. This is the woman he adores, the person he owes his freedom to. He will not treat her as if she were a mere thing. No. He owes her some tenderness, even if she does cry in pleasure from his rough thrusts.
"More," she gasps. "I need more, Fenris."
A sneaky hand of hers reaches in between their bodies, and caresses his sack with a light touch. Pleasure, hot and unforgiving, tears through his entire body. He ravages her, hard hips connecting with her soft flesh over and over. Hawke's loud moans echo off the walls, and Fenris would not be surprised if her servants could hear her all the way from their quarters.
A smirks tugs at his lips. No one knows of their relationship, save perhaps her household. Something primal stirs inside of him at the thought of others hearing their coupling, knowing that she belongs to him. His. A pulse of pleasure expands through his belly and lower. He will not last much longer.
"Fen, I … I need … ." Hawke groans, a ragged sigh following.
"What do you need?" He'd give her anything.
There is movement beneath him, and he realises she is touching her bundle of nerves. He's learned that she often needs stimulation there to come undone. But he wants to make her come. Her hand should be reserved for the nights when he is not there to bring her release. His hand joins where they connect, pushing hers away. He can not maintain the same pace as before, but finds a slower one as he rubs her clit. Hawke cries out, and pushes back against him. He stops thrusting for a few moments, allowing her to take her pleasure from him. He continues to rub tight circles against her nub, as she pushes her hips back and forth against him.
Eventually, he meets her thrusts, lazily pumping into her. They share control, giving each other what the other needs. This is as it should be. Giving and taking. There is nothing one-sided about their coupling, and Fenris' heart swells.
A moment later, Hawke finds her release. She tightens around him as her entire body shudders. She cries his name, his name, and Fenris needs to join her. He waits for her orgasm to subside, before he frees his hand from her clit. All thought thrown to the wind, he grabs her hips with his hands, and pounds into her. She is soaking, her climax glistening over his cock. He grunts, his body pulsing with arousal. A few moments is all he needs.
As he spills himself inside her, he gasps her name, her given name, the only name he knows throughout his pleasure. He stills, his heart dancing within his chest as he comes, every nerve within his body singing. A contented sigh comes from his lover beneath him. Slowly, he withdraws from her.
A few moments pass, and Fenris places a hand at the curve of her ass, watching as a line of his spend drips from her. It is a sight that always thrills him, seeing her filled with his come. If he wasn't so thoroughly exhausted, perhaps the view would be enough to ignite his passion once more.
Curling up beside her, Fenris pulls Hawke into his embrace. Contentment laces her voice as she sighs. He possessively holds her, keeping her as close as possible, her back flush against his chest. He breathes in her scent at the base of her neck. She makes him so happy, he is afraid to let her go. He commits this moment to memory, so that he can relive it again and again.
Eventually, he breaks the comfortable silence. "I did not think you would enjoy it so … rough."
Hawke laughs in response.
"And why not? Look at my life, Fenris. I am no delicate flower." She turns in his arms, running a finger under his chin. "I love everything about our intimacy. The times you take me with tenderness absolutely take my breath away. But I enjoy being taken hard and fast just as well. Did it not feel good for you?"
He can't help but smile. Hawke's concern for him always flatters him.
"I think this - " he brings his hand between their bodies, dipping a finger into his spend spilling between her legs, "is all the evidence you need to find your answer."
Hawke shudders against him, and he pulls his hand away, instead wrapping it tightly around her.
"Thank you, Hawke."
"What for?"
"For allowing me to stay the night."
He's not sure if he will come to her every night, but knowing that he has a place here whenever he wants makes him feel at home. Hawke is his home.