*Mind the rating, please.

Just like the last time he had spent a night in her bed - and no other time that he could remember - Fenris slept through the night without nightmares. He woke early; Ashara was still asleep behind him, but her hold had loosened enough that he could slip out of the bed without disturbing her. He needed time to think about last night, before facing her.

He spent the whole day thinking, and as night fell, was no closer to an answer than he had been at dawn. Even if he didn't worry about her likely reactions - and he still didn't see how she could want him after what had happened last night - even setting that aside, he had a problem.

He could picture her in the throes of passion easily enough; picture her eyes sparkling at him, her mouth open in a gasp, could picture her in half a dozen different positions, with a lazy smile on her lips and invitation in her eyes. Those images left him frustrated and aroused; by midday, he found himself laying back on his dusty bed, his hand wrapped around his cock, as those images ran through his mind. He gasped when his climax took him, feeling relieved and faintly guilty at the same time. These were the thoughts he had indulged in for days now, trying to find the courage to speak to her.

No, the problem arose when he tried to imagine himself with her. When she alone occupied his mind, things were fine. Picturing her hands running along his tattooed torso, cupping his growing hardness… his erection fled. Too deliberate, too much like the only other times he had been touched in that manner. When he imagined his own hands on her, all his old training coming into play as he tried to bring her pleasure, he was cold. He hadn't thought to include himself in his imaginings until last night. The change killed his desire.

He wanted her, but he couldn't be with her. By the time he had chased these thoughts around his head all day, he was in a foul mood. He might have stayed home, except that he happened to glance out his window, and saw her on the balcony, sitting at small table in a pool of light that stood out against the gathering dark. He went.

She saw him crossing the square, smiled and waved at him, and by the time he reached her room, she was sitting in front of the fire, waiting for him. He went and sat in his usual place, sighing heavily as he leaned back against the chair. Her fingers in his hair were gentle, a gift he hadn't expected to receive tonight.

She was silent for a long time, letting him settle in. As she felt him relax fully, the gentle glide of her fingers slowed.

"Fen, we should talk."

He nodded, a sudden lump in his throat preventing him from saying anything.

"I want to know if you still feel the same way you did last night. If you still... " her voice faltered slightly, "... want me. My answer is the same, but if yours has changed I'll understand."

Fenris nodded immediately, then shook his head. She laughed softly, letting her fingers brush against the back of his neck.

"I think I'm going to need a bit more to go on than that."

Fenris sighed. "I do still want you, but… I am uncertain if I will be able to follow through on that desire." She was silent, her fingers moving slowly through his hair. He took a deep breath, and explained the problem he'd been having throughout the day.

She was silent for a long time, and he stared into the fire, trying to predict her response.

"You're worried about my touch, and touching me - and, well, enjoying it?"

When she spoke, her words came slowly, hesitantly, and not sounding at all like herself; he couldn't understand what had caused the change, so he tipped his head back to look at her, hoping to read something in her expression. Her face was bright red, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, her gaze shifting rapidly around the room but never coming near his face. She was embarrassed.

Fenris felt his eyes widen, realizing for the first time that he might not be the only person in this room to find this conversation uncomfortable. He straightened, turning his own eyes back to the fire. After a moment, her fingers started moving through his hair again, and he shook his head carefully.

"I crave your touch, that is not the concern." Her fingers tightened briefly in his hair at that admission. He continued. "I worry about you touching me in passion, that I will recall when I was last touched that way. I worry about trying to perform acts that have only brought pain and hatred before now, and hoping they will somehow bring pleasure. I fear my own reactions, without the discipline they have always been subject to."

She hummed thoughtfully; then: "Do you trust me, Fenris?"

"I do."

"Then shall we try? Slowly, in steps, and we can stop whenever you like."

He considered that, rolling the word thoughtfully over his tongue. "Try? What will be the consequence for failure?"

"No consequence. No failure. Just… not yet, or not that, or not so fast. If this is what you want, we can get there. I have an idea of how this might be managed, but I want to be sure it is what you want."

He thought about that, sitting silently and staring at the fire. Finally, he nodded.

Her idea involved nothing but talking that first night. Laying out the plan, and his part in it. Actually, it involved quite a lot of rules; he had thought he would hate that, but slowly he began to see how the structure would help. How the expectation - never changing, never guessing - would be a comfort.

She made him pick words, three of them, one each for stop, wait, and keep going. He was to answer honestly when she asked him which word he felt at that moment. She said she would use the same words, if he ever wanted to ask her for them.

Each night would follow the same pattern, until they reached their goal - the path they walked was of her choosing, but the destination was his.

She repeated one thing over and over, until he rolled his eyes at the repetition. Truth, always truth. No assumptions, no hiding. Truth. Asked for or not. Always truth between us. Both ways.

She asked him to stay the night, but he was feeling restless and aroused, and wanted to be alone. She looked straight at him when she gave him the choice, and he rolled his eyes, but answered her with all the honesty she asked for. She blushed, but smiled at him. He could see how this truth thing might be entertaining - he had never seen her blush so easily or often as she had during this conversation.

She leaned forward then, eyes on his as her hand settled on shoulder and her fingers curled around the back of his neck. She let her forehead rest on his.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Fenris scowled at the fire. He had been anticipating this all day, thinking about what might happen, what she might say or do on their first night in this new dance. And all she wanted to do was touch him. Hands and lips, she said, but nothing below his shoulders. It was insulting, she had already touched more of him than that, it was a step backwards; he told her so. There was a smile in her voice when she answered him.

"Everything starts somewhere."

Fenris snorted his annoyance, but when she asked him if he was willing to try, he agreed. She reminded him gently of his responsibility, and he sighed, but answered her.

"Don't loom over me, don't make me kneel."

She nodded, accepting these boundaries without hesitation. Then she stood, offering him her hand. When he rose to his feet as well, she drew him over to the sofa which sat across from her chair. She had often invited him to sit there before, but he preferred to be closer to her, and never had tried it.

Now, she dragged a footstool over in front of it, and sat there, motioning Fenris to sit on the sofa in front of her. He did, and she settled her legs to either side of his. Then, she set her hands on his shoulders, fingers curling around the back of his neck. The touch was steadying, and when she arched an eyebrow at him in question, Fenris nodded his permission to begin.

She kept her hands still, but her fingers brushed over his neck in little patterns that he couldn't keep track of. Her eyes moved constantly, studying his face, watching his reactions. It was an unexpected intimacy, having her look at him with her entire attention, close enough that his gaze was on her face in return; Fenris swallowed nervously.

Her eyebrow went up and she caught his eyes in a silent question; when he nodded for her to continue, she did.

Her hands slid up his neck to frame his face, fingers settling into new positions there. Her index fingers, rough with callouses from her daggers, settled just in front of his ears, making him suddenly aware of the tiny pulse point there, pounding at her touch. Her other fingers came to rest behind his ears, not touching, her thumbs along his jaw. She brushed her thumbs along his jaw several times, from his chin and back along his jaw, and returning, before running them over his lips, and along his cheek bones. The brush of her fingers across his lips had his jaw clenching, the muscles bunching beneath her fingers, and she caught his eyes.

"Fenris? What's your color?" Her voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper in the slight space between them.

"Blue," he answered her rather grimly, as if determined to make it true, rather than actually believing it to be so. Blue like her eyes, blue for keep going. He was worried she would stop, despite his assurance, but she nodded, and kept going.

She continued her gentle exploration of his face, smiling as she brushed her fingertips over his eyebrows and they immediately pulled down into a scowl. She brushed her fingers over his lips several more times in passing, and each time it was less jarring.

She ran her fingers through his hair, the sensation both familiar and unexpected from this angle. She ran her fingers lightly along his ears, sweeping up to the delicate point, then a long slow glide down the back. Fenris shuddered, and brought his hands to her arms.

"Come closer? I would… like to feel more of you than this."

She nodded, slipping off the footstool to sit on his lap, her knees tucked up against his hips, leaving a careful distance between their bodies. He brought his hands to her hips, holding her there; he felt better holding her there - anchoring himself with her presence, anchoring her with his grip - he knew she wouldn't leave.

He was disappointed when she left off touching his ears, but he was starting to find the gentle sweeps of her fingers soothing, so he didn't complain.

When she had finished tracing his features, she brought her hands back to his shoulders, and Fenris leaned back against the high back of the sofa, wondering slightly at how relaxed he felt. It wasn't exactly a step towards his goal, but he couldn't find any annoyance about that just now.

"Ready for more?" Her words made him blink, he hadn't realized his eyes had closed; he nodded. "Color?"

"Blue." This time, his tone was bored, he didn't see the point in this repeated question.

Slowly, Ashara leaned forward, and placed her lips at the point of his jaw, her nose brushing his earlobe. His hands tightened on her hips, but he held himself still, and found that he didn't actually mind this. She wasn't licking - or biting - and he had known what to expect this time.

He felt her placing soft kisses along his jaw, and knew she was following the same path her fingers had taken earlier. There was comfort in knowing what to expect, and in there being no expectations about his own reactions - she couldn't possibly expect this to arouse him, and so when he inevitably failed to respond there would be no embarrassment and no accusations. He was still sure he wouldn't be able to respond to her passionate touches in kind, but this was nice enough.

Her lips across his eyelids tickled, so much that he wasn't able to repeat the scowl that had accompanied her fingers across his eyebrows. She kissed down the line of his nose with a soft chuckle; Fenris refused to open his eyes, knowing her expression would call an answering smile from him.

She kissed lightly along his lips, getting a slight smile in response. Slowly, she brought her lips across his cheek, and pushed her fingers into his hair; then started a soft trail of kisses along his right ear.

Fenris' hands clutched at her hips, fingers pressing tightly enough to bruise. She removed her lips from his ear, leaning back enough that she could catch his eyes. She slid her own hands along his arms, and over his hands, brushing her fingers along his until he relaxed his grip. Smiling, she patted his hands, and went back to the delicate attentions of her lips on his ears.

When she had paid this thorough attention to both, she settled her hands on his shoulders and leaned her forehead against his.

"Still ok?"

"I am. I apologize for hurting you."

"It's fine."

"It is not. I did not mean to -"

She interrupted him before he could get any further. "Fenris, it's fine. Blue, ok?"

He rolled his eyes, but accepted this answer. Always truth between us she had said; there would be no polite lies. If she said it was fine, it was. Fenris nodded.

He caught her a flash of smile, more felt than seen at this range, before she brought her lips back to the corner of his jaw. Her voice was quiet.

"Ready for more?" He couldn't imagine what more she meant, but he nodded. Nothing horrible had happened so far, after all. The next question was expected. "Color?"

"Blue." His tone was exasperated this time. He couldn't forget that this was a step backward, and pleasant was it was, it wasn't exactly useful. Still, he had to hope she would see that they could move more quickly next time.

A soft chuckle was his only warning, before she started a new trail of kisses along his jaw; and these were not so chaste as the last ones. She followed the same slow path, but with light licks and gentle nibbles. Too slow, too gentle, to raise any memories, which was a relief; but not really stimulating at all, he thought with some disappointment.

Before he could focus too much on that disappointment - or worry about what reaction she was expecting - she kissed down his nose, giving the tip a lightly playful nip - and he realized what was coming next.

His entire body went taut with sudden anticipation. Her lips - like this - on his ears. He couldn't keep his hands from clenching on her hips again, so he ran them up her back instead; up and down, again and again, restless movement as he waited an eternity until her lips found his earlobe.

The first touch was a disappointment, a most unwanted return to those first chaste kisses.

He shuddered when she spoke quietly, her breath warm against his ear, "More?" He nodded tightly, torn between an emphatic agreement that would prevent doubts or delay, and a vast unwillingness to move away from her mouth. She had one more question, though, and he should have seen it coming. "Color?"

"Blue!" His voice cracked as he said it. It was the most enthusiastic answer he'd given all night, and her throaty chuckle would have been something to savor if he hadn't been so focused on what she was about to do.

She didn't keep him waiting. Lips and tongue traced the front edge of his ear, lingering at the tip until he whined deep in his throat. Her breath ghosted across the delicate skin, followed by the long anticipated sweep of her tongue.

When she paused to push his hair out of the way, Fenris let his head fall back against the sofa, granting her better access. She shifted slightly to follow him, catching his earlobe between gentle teeth. When she sucked lightly on it, his hands tightened on her hips and pulled her forward until her hips were flush against his. Her soft moan was loud in his ear.

She gently nudged his head around so she could pay attention to his left ear, and the renewal of sensations took his breath away. Turning, he caught her lips with his own, kissing her hungrily. She shifted slightly against him, and he felt a flare of desire. His hands on her hips were instinctively sliding her along his cock before he realized that he was solidly erect and straining against his breeches.

She had taken her lips back to his ear, closing them around the tip, when he went suddenly still. She stopped immediately but didn't pull away, her voice quiet and even, with her lips close to his ear but not touching.

"Fenris?"

His voice was anything but even, straining with desire and broken by gasps. "I… 'Shara, I…" He couldn't force the words out, so he just pulled her firmly against his erection, and let her figure it out for herself.

She let him rock her hips against his, and gave a soft hum of pleasure. She caught the tip of his ear in her teeth and bit gently. Fenris gasped, pulled her harder against him, as he realized how close he was. He tried again to warn her.

"Shara…" His voice spiraled up on a gasp as she first licked, then blew gently against the tip of his ear.

He hadn't been about to ask her any question at all, and certainly not the one she answered.

"Blue, Fenris." She moaned as he rocked her against him again. "Blue."

Blue. Blue like her eyes. Blue for keep going.

She couldn't know what she was offering him. His training whispered through his mind: never first, never without providing pleasure, never as anything more than a necessity following an adequate performance, never without providing a show - never deserving his own pleasure.

But she had said there would only be truth between them - and she had said blue. Blue for keep going.

He did.

Fenris rocked her frantically against his cock, he didn't even spare a thought to wish that there was less fabric between them. When she would have returned her lips to his ears, he turned his head and caught her mouth in a kiss. It was a demanding kiss, deep and rough; she brought her hands to his face, brushing her fingers lightly along his cheekbones, gentling the kiss until he could feel something more than crushing pressure. He could feel her desire, her care for him, in the touch of her lips against his. It pushed him over the edge.

He came with his mouth pressed against hers, muffling the sounds of his pleasure with her lips.

He closed his eyes when she lifted her lips from his, but she didn't leave as he had feared. She settled down with her head resting on his shoulder, her fingers drifting down to trace idle patterns across the back of his neck. The touch was soothing, as always, and he relaxed slightly.

He should say something, shouldn't he? He had no experience like this, nothing to tell him what should happen next. Still, he felt like he should say something.

"Well. That was… more interesting than anticipated."

She sat up suddenly, wide eyes meeting his. "More interesting? Than anticipated?!" He thought for a moment that she was angry, but with her next breath she dissolved into giggles. She continued giggling until she had to gasp for breath, occasionally repeating "interesting" and "anticipated;" she kept giggling until his embarrassment fled, and he started to be annoyed.

"It isn't that funny, Hawke." His voice returning to his usual disapproving tones. She grinned at him, unrepentant. "I do not have any experience with this, I do not know what to do… now."

Ashara kissed him lightly. Her humor was gone, but she was still smiling at him. "Now, you go clean up. Then you stay the night. In the morning, we have a job."

She slid off his lap, ignoring his blush, so he could rise and go into the adjoining bathroom. His doubts returned as he washed and changed; by the time he returned to the bedroom, he was nervous. What must she think of him? He was all too certain he knew.

He had doubted her, had been surly when she asked for something simple - he had thought she was being condescending, mocking him. He had responded despite his doubts, and been entirely selfish.

Ashara was already changed and lounging against a pile of pillows in the bed. When he approached hesitantly, she caught his hand and dragged him in beside her. He slid his arms around her waist, pillowed his head on her stomach, and held her tightly.

She brought a hand up, and slid her fingers through his hair.

"Fen?"

He knew what she was asking, knew she had felt him shaking as he curled tightly against her. But he didn't know how to answer her, so he was silent.

She sighed, and leaned down to press her lips against the top of his head.

"This was only the first step, Fen. I don't expect that we're magically at the end of our journey. There's still a long way to go. Sometimes forwards, sometimes backwards."

He relaxed sightly, but didn't loosen his hold on her. Her fingers felt good sliding through his hair.

"You are wonderful, you know that? You were honest when I asked, and you asked for what you wanted. You did so well. And you trusted me, which means so much to me. You were patient with me, even at first when you didn't think I was doing what you had asked. And Fen, you trusted me when I said we were ok, and to keep going. Thank you for that."

He had stopped shaking as he listened to her, as the evening reordered itself in his mind, and he saw it as she had. Her quiet words continued, praising him, showing him a man he had never suspected existed, telling him how amazing she found him. He sighed, letting the last of the tension drain from him. Slowly, as she recounted everything he had done well, he found he was able to regain his own pleasure in the evening, and his surprising reaction to her touch.

That she didn't expect an that reaction to be repeated without fail was a relief; he found that, far from thinking it a fluke, as he had been inclined to do in the darkness of his own doubts, he could see it as a success to be sought again.

Her fingers slid gently through his hair, and her voice, quietly telling him how wonderful he was, followed him into sleep.