And here, my lovelies, is the Fenris love I've been promising. And yes, I know Hawke says some shitty things, but remember that she's really pissed off. Anyway, it's a long one, and it's pretty dirty. Hope you enjoy.


Chapter Nine: Beloved


Hawke

It is a rare event, but Orana, Bodahn and Sandal are all out this evening. Orana had met a very nice young elf at the market a few days ago and had shyly asked Hawke if she could meet him at the Hanged Man for drinks. Hawke had been thrilled, and had spent all day fussing over Orana's hair and had bought her a new dress to wear. She had lectured her on the dangers of drinking, especially on a first date, and made sure that Orana had a full belly before leaving. She also made sure to get the young man's full name and address so she could hunt him down and maim him if he harmed her Orana. Bodahn had taken Sandal to the Wounded Coast on a father-son camping trip.

She finds it difficult to enjoy the quiet house. Unable to concentrate on any of the books in her library, she has taken to writing in her journal. She has been contemplating her thoughts about Fenris, and how she will probably never find another man to match him in her heart. And the mess with Anders, the awful night she spent with him. In retrospect, the sex was very good, but his methods make her shudder. She remembers everything about that night. She never should have gone there drunk in the first place, but she just wanted to be around someone who cared. She knew he had a crush on her, and now she knows he loves her. The way he had kissed her that night…like she was a fountain of clear water and he was dying of thirst. When he had held her, he had clung so tightly, almost desperately. She should have known he wasn't Fenris, as Fenris would never have held her like that. When he looks at her now, he has this awful mixture of love, regret, shame and need in his eyes. She has also noticed that he is becoming more obsessive in his devotion to what he calls "the mage's plight", and his obsessions have begun drawing him deeper and deeper into a dark place she cannot follow. There will be no good to come from this situation, she sighs sadly.

She is thankful that at least Fenris will never know what had happened, as Anders has sworn that he will never tell Fenris, or the rest of the group. Anders had come to her a few days after their night together, and had apologized for taking advantage of the situation. They had gone together to visit the old man, and he had explained the mix up with the herbs. The old man had smiled sweetly and given them each an elfroot biscuit as they were leaving. She had told Anders that while she appreciated the explanation and the apology, she wasn't quite ready to forgive him yet. It hurt her to see him in such agony over a mistake, but at the same time, she has a strange feeling about that night that she can't quite place. They have settled back into a routine, however, and she is thankful of that. She does need a healer for their excursions, and Anders is the best one around. They have even begun spending time together at the Hanged Man again, their conversation becoming more easy as it used to be. She sticks to her watered down ale, however, vowing never to drink whiskey again. The whole group is back together, with one exception. Fenris. She misses his face, his voice, even his brooding silence would be better than his absence. She visited him a few times, but he was always passed out, and she had left, saddened more and more each time. Whatever was bothering him was pulling him deeper and deeper into an alcoholic pit, and she ached to be able to pull him out, if only he would let her.

The front door of her mansion slams, rattling the panes of her windows. "HAWKE!" his voice thunders through the empty house. She jumps at the sound of his voice, and rushes out of her bedroom, flushed with worry. She takes him in-the enraged look on his face is the one he usually wears while in the heat of battle. She can see his hard muscles under his white linen shirt and soft brown breeches, taut with fury. Her mouth runs dry as she stares at him. He is always incredibly sexy, but even more so when he is furious. He is barely containing his rage-she can see the muscle in his jaw twitching as it does when he is close to losing it. His markings are glowing dangerously, and she knows the power that comes from them could kill her in seconds. Why does he have to be so damned sexy? The air around him vibrates with anger as he fumes at her. He glares at her, his mossy eyes dark with rage. He takes the stairs two at a time until he is inches from her face. Her breath catches in her throat.

"Fenris?" she ventures cautiously. "Has someone died? Oh, SHIT! The slavers have returned! No, you moron, this has something to do with Anders. Why would it be about Anders? I'm not with either of them and Fenris has made it clear he wants to be left alone to be a drunkard." Her brain clicks off as the heat rolls off him in waves. She's not sure she's ever seen him THIS incensed. His eyes narrow to slits. His gravelly voice, the one that she could listen to for hours, has taken on a dangerous tone. The last time she heard his voice like this, was when he was promising to let Hadriana go. Right before he plunged his fist through her chest and ripped out her beating heart, crushing it to a bloody pulp. She swallows nervously.

"I was at the Hanged Man a few weeks back. You won't believe the story I heard."

Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips. He knows she does this when she's nervous. The tell that she is, in fact, nervous, makes his blood boil even more. He knows, in that instant, that what the bastard was saying is true.

"Oh? One of Isabela's tales again?"

"No." His voice is clipped. "The abomination was drunk."

The blood drains from her face. "No, certainly Anders wouldn't…oh Maker. You'll be the laughingstock of everyone in Kirkwall. If Mama was still alive, she would be humiliated beyond belief." The conversation that would pour forth from the highbred, snooty ladies of Hightown plays through Arielle's mind in a split second."Oh, look, here comes Leandra. HER daughter likes to fuck elves who squat in a mansion reeking of death and decay.""Oh, but AFTER she screwed the filthy knife ear, who, by the way, doesn't even wear SHOES! Hahahahaha! Oh, after that, she went slumming in LOW TOWN! She screwed that apostate! You know, the one who touches the filthy knife ears and homeless. I wonder what diseases the elves have. Let's not invite her to tea any longer." She is jerked back to the present by the beautiful man in front of her, seething with rage.

He sneers, inches from her face. They are nearly nose to nose."You should have heard the tale he was telling, Hawke." Her pulse quickens with fear.

"What…what did he say?" "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuckity fuck fuck fuck."

"You. Were. WITH. HIM." He punctuates every word with more vehemence than the last.

"Well, yes, we spend a lot of time together…" "WHY did you say that? You are a complete moron. Stop pissing him off even more!"

The rage flashes across his face and as he lets out a frustrated growl, he pushes her against the wall roughly. His markings flare a bright blue. Her mind registers the danger, but there is no way to get out of his vice like grip, and her knives are across the room. "Shit. Not even safe in my own damn home. Maybe with a kick to the groin…at least that would be SOME form of contact with his nether regions."

"This is not the time to be glib, Arielle." His breath, usually cool, is hot and she can smell wine.

"You're drunk" she scoffs, pushing against his hard chest, but he is like a stone wall.

"Not drunk enough" he hisses.

"FINE!" she yells in his face. "YES, we were together. ONE night we had sex. It was one of the biggest mistakes of my life and if I could take it back I would. Why do you even CARE?"

She hates fighting with people she loves. Give her a dragon, a slaver, a blood mage, and she is at home. But throw emotions into the mix and she just feels like she's drowning in quicksand. Without pausing for breath, she barrels forward. "Anders LOVES me! He held me and listened to me cry after you…YOU…" she jabs her finger into his chest…"continued to ignore me after walking out on me after…what you and I did. He told me I was beautiful and smart, and witty and that YOU were a knife-eared fool!" She hates, HATES using that slur but she is so angry she cannot stop that and other words from spewing forth from her mouth.

"He held me the night that YOU went with Isabella! Anders MADE LOVE to me. He did things to me you don't even know HOW! I wanted YOU, you stupid ASS! But YOU DIDN'T WANT ME!" She knows she has gone too far…he seems to be glowing blue with the fury welling up in him & his eyes narrow again. She takes a breath, hating herself, hating him, hating the situation. She feels vicious and mean. She hates acting like this but he has pushed her too far.

He grabs her arms before she knows he has even lifted his. He pulls her to him and his grip is so tight, she is unable to free herself. He crushes his lips on hers painfully, forcing her lips to part to assault her mouth with his tongue. In this instant, she hates him. She hates that he can just waltz back into her room and act like she belongs to him. Hates the way his hands on her skin makes her body react. Hates that her body is betraying her while his lips ravage her mouth. But she loves him so very much. Her knees begin to fail her as he kisses her for what seems like ages. She never wants to stop kissing him. His lips, usually hard and cold, mold to hers, becoming soft and loving. Finally, he sighs and pulls away. He looks at her, realizing that what she did, she did believing there was no future with him. His own fault, as that is exactly what he wanted her to think. So she WOULD move on. Should have known Anders would swoop in like a vulture.

"I'll show you how much I didn't want you. Still don't want you" he whispers huskily, sending shivers down her spine.

Fenris lifts her off her feet, slamming her down on her dresser, sending her silver etched comb and mirror, small glass bottles of oils for her bath, small silver jewelry box tumbling to the floor. His mouth is hot and angry, his lips devouring her as his hands work her body. One hand snakes under her shirt and finds her breast, massaging it, thumb working over the nipple, making it hard, while his other hand works to undo the ties of his leather breeches. Somewhere in his mind, he registers that her legs have come up, locking her ankles around his waist and that her hands have buried themselves in his hair. She is pulling tightly, crushing his mouth to hers like she is dying and needs his breath. He presses against her, letting her feel how much he "doesn't" want her. Maker but he is enormous. And hard so fast. She cannot wait to free the caged beast. He tears his mouth from hers, kissing her ears, nibbling on the lobes, kissing her face. Running his fingers through her dark hair, he frames her face with his hands, staring at her. He takes a ragged breath, leaning his forehead against hers. He has missed the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips. So soft, so fragile. She is without her makeup and she is all the more beautiful in her natural state. He plants feather light kisses along her jaw, kissing his way down her neck. He nuzzles the side of her neck, where he knows she is very sensitive. She giggles and the ticklish sensation makes her tilt her head the side, denying him access, and he laughs. He places an open mouthed kiss in the hollow of her throat. Taking his face in her hands, she kisses the markings on his chin. Pleasure shoots through him to his toes as she licks the lyrium. Finding his lips again, she catches his bottom lip in her teeth, lightly nipping. Not sure how much more of this he can handle, he knows he needs to get her pants off soon. He grasps her ass in his hands and carries her as she clings to him, still kissing, to the bed. He falls forward, and they tumble to the bed together. He grins at her as he strips his shirt & pants off. "Maker but he is beautiful." Her eyes drink in the sight of him & her mouth is dry. She feels herself grow wet through her clothing, and he smiles that he has this effect on her.

Roughly, he asks, "Did the mage do that to you?" She shakes her head, unable to speak.

She tugs at her own clothes, but Fenris has a different idea. He stills her hand with his and at her confused look, he smiles slyly. He knows she keeps her daggers in strategic places & reaches to her night stand. As expected, he finds a silver dagger hidden in the drawer. He pulls her red linen shirt forward at the neckline with his finger. Holding it from her body, he gently makes a nip in the fabric. It tears easily beneath his strong fingers. "Oops" he smiles as her large breasts fall out. She is not wearing her bindings this day, lounging at home.

"Hey! That was one of my favorite shirts!" she cries in mock horror.

"I'll buy you another" he growls as he hungrily stares at her breasts. His attentions move to her breeches next. They are soft and black, with leather laces from hip to thigh. He cuts each lace slowly, deliberately. The pants split, revealing creamy flesh. He peels the fabric down, revealing that she is also not wearing panties. One black eyebrow raises as this side of Hawke is revealed.

"It's laundry day" she shrugs, lifting her hips so Fenris can remove her ruined pants.

"It would appear you owe me a new outfit" she teases.

"So it would seem." He replies, a smile in his voice. "I'll win it in Wicked Grace." Fenris rarely wins at Wicked Grace and she hates to think that if he DID manage to win, that he would spend his winnings on her. It has been so long since he has gazed upon this sight. He did not realize how much he had truly missed looking at her. So he looks now. Longingly.

"You can do more than look, you know" she says softly.

He places a finger to her lips. "Let me indulge…like you do with your sweets." He likes that image. Of her being a delectable treat to savor and nibble, and he tells her this, sending a blush to her cheeks. He realizes what a fool he has been. A blind, stupid fool. The years have added more scars to her body, both seen and unseen. He traces a long one that begins at her left ribcage, running along the length of her stomach, and ends behind her right shoulder blade. The raised skin curves in a vicious angle. That day will forever be imprinted on his brain. The day he suggested she duel the Arishok to hand to hand combat. He'd never actually thought she would go through with it, but she had. What a damn foolish woman, he'd thought at the time. He'd known, as he'd looked into her eyes after she had accepted, as she was gathering her healing potions & stashing them in all her pockets, he'd just known she had accepted to save the rest of them. Her only family left, he'd thought bitterly.

He lowers his lips to kiss the memory. She gasps as his lips touch the ugly memory. She has so many now, she has lost count. Suddenly she feels self-conscious. She is not the same, smooth skinned girl she was when they were together before. He feels her pulling away and looks at her with questions in his eyes. She casts her gaze to the side, not wanting to look at him.

"They are ugly. I am not the same as before."

Sitting up, he takes her chin in her fingers, forcing her head gently back so he can look directly into her eyes. "I am ashamed of my markings, but they are not easily hidden as yours are. They are a constant reminder to the ugliness that is my past. When I look at myself, I still see a weak slave."

She's dumbfounded by this. "Your markings are breathtaking. They are a part of you and I love every part of you. I do not see a "weak slave" when I look at you. I see a proud warrior."

She has a knack for making him feel humble. "Then you can understand why I kiss your scars," he tells her, sweetness and love in his voice. Her mouth opens and closes as she has nothing to say to this. A warmth spreads, making her feel mushy. Her heart thuds in her chest as he lowers his head to her scar again, finishing the trail it makes. He finds every scar that she can hide with her clothes, and after he has kissed them all slowly and lovingly, he finds the ones she cannot hide. The one on the back of her neck where she was nicked by the mage's lightening spell. The small one on her ankle is especially fun, as it makes her foot jerk and he realizes she is ticklish there. He tucks that piece of information away for later. Leaning forward, his hair tickling her skin, he captures her nipple in his mouth. He licks it, slowly circling it with his tongue. He breathes on the erect nipple, causing sighs of pleasure from Airielle. He does the same for the second nipple, and once they are both hard to his satisfaction, he straddles her hips & places his arms on either side of her, hovering above her.

"Now," he growls, "tell me. What you want."

She blushes, suddenly shy. "I'm not sure you really want to know."

"Yes, I really do. If it will bring you pleasure, I want to know what it is. From this day forward, I want to be the only one to cause you every bit of pleasure possible."

Finally, she sighs. Embarrassment creeps over her face.

"Ari?" he gently prods.

She lets out a loud sigh. "Fiiiiiiiiine. It's something Isabela told me about. But I don't even know if you'll like it."

He is surprised to realize she's stalling and embarrassed. He rather likes this shy side of her, he thinks. He leans forward and whispers in her ear. She bites her bottom lip and nods.

"I had no idea you were so kinky, Hawke. " He is thrilled beyond words that she trusts him enough to want to try this erotic act. "However, before we get to your, request, there are other things I must tend to first."

"What, 'other things'?"

His low, gravelly laugh is all the reply she gets as she feels his fingers lightly tracing the curve of her stomach, down her leg and back up again. It stops and slips inside her warmth. She gasps in pleasure and he goes deeper. He gently thrusts his finger in and out as she moans softly. He rubs her clit in circles with his thumb, making her moan with pleasure. He parts her soft flesh as he continues stroking with his long, nimble fingers. His hands are large and calloused, his fingers deft and skillful. He takes his finger out, smiling as she whimpers her protests. He kisses her slowly and deeply, kissing his way down her body to her pussy. Once there, he licks and savors, finding the nub that he was moments before teasing. His hot breath is intoxicating. Her hands grip the sheets, balling them in her hands. He grabs her hands in his strong grip, holding them above her head. His rough tongue licks her folds, sucking gently at the pink flesh. He flicks his tongue over her clit, licking in slow circles. He changes the direction of his circles, alternating between fast flicking and slow licking. Her hips lift and she bucks toward his mouth. He smiles against her, feeling pride at causing her such pleasure.

She moans, wanting him inside of her. She threads her fingers through his silky white hair, grabbing handfuls and tugging insistently for him to move his body up and over hers. "Please" she begs.

"Patience is not your greatest virtue" he tells her.

"I don't…want…to be…patient. I want you. Inside of me. Now"

"Soon, Lufestre."

Fenris has been hard for some time, and now is the time to find release for them both. He knows what he is doing feels amazing to her, but he decides it is time to give her what she asked for. His olive green eyes grow dark with heat and a smile tugs at his lips. He reaches for the bottle of oil she keeps on the night stand. She uses it before she sleeps, to keep her hands and feet soft. He rubs the oil on his fingers, and on his throbbing cock, making it glisten with moisture. He will outdo that fucking mage if it kills him. Lying on her back, her body flushed with pleasure, she is the most entrancing, exciting creature he has ever seen. He leans over her body, admiring the way her breasts rise and fall with her excited breath.

"Ari?"

"Mmmm?" she moans her response.

"I don't want to hurt you, so let me know if you want me to stop." He slips a finger inside of her, slowly and gently. She gasps with pleasure and he gently stretches her, preparing her for what is to come. She is just comprehending the intense pleasure his finger is causing her when it slips out and something much, much larger slips slowly and gently in. The pleasure pain rocks through her core, making her lift her hips to give him more access. He goes slowly and carefully, gently filling her ass with his enormous member. He watches the emotions play out on her face, feeling desire, lust, love, and pride welling up inside of him. His every being cries out to go faster, harder, bury himself in her, but he refuses to give in. He leans in & kisses her neck, nuzzling the spot in her neck that makes her squeal. She arches her body toward him, begging for more with her body. She reaches behind her and grabs the bed post. He watches the muscles in her arms bulge as she hangs on while riding her wave. Unsatisfied, she rakes her nails across his back. His smooth, marble skin will retain evidence of their love for a few days.

She has to have more. She wraps her legs around his waist, locking her ankles together. She has to bring him in deeper, closer. Burying her fingers in his silky hair, she tugs hard, bringing his lips back to her mouth. Spurred on by her aggression, his tongue wages a war with hers. Fire ignites as their tongues wrestle. "MORE" she demands.

He holds her steady with his hands on her hips. Watching her face, he sees the wonder and pleasure that this near pain causes her. He keeps the pace a slow, steady, in and out, filling her to the brim and then stills as he feels the orgasm tighten the muscles around him. It is the most intense feeling either of them has ever experienced. The feeling of him inside her is beyond amazing, and she does not want it to end. Grabbing fistfuls of his snowy white, soft tendrils, she pulls him hungrily to her. Smashing her lips against his forcefully, she wraps her legs tighter around his waist, bringing his cock even deeper inside of her. She grabs his ass in her hands & tells him to move faster. He complies, sucking on her neck, biting and leaving what will become a very large bruise in a few hours. Deeper and faster he pushes his cock in her tight ass, tearing his mouth from her neck to fasten around her nipple, sucking and licking with his hot mouth. As they come together, he fills her ass with his load of hot semen. As they lie together, panting for air, he reaches down and feels inside of her pussy. His fingers come up wet and slick.

With a sly look in his eyes, he leans down and licks her clean. "Mmmmm….lover, you taste so good."


Translation: "Lufestre" means "Lover" in Old English. I couldn't find one in Latin I liked.