Part 4: Sometime after the morning after the unexpected kiss and what came of it ... etc.

Hawke awoke. She cracked one eye open and frowned. She found herself alone in the bed that had probably seen more activity over the past few days than in the rest of its existence. To her rather hazily amazement she was lying spread-eagled on the mattress, her feet entangled with the sheets. The same instant she grew cold and not only because of the lack of covers. She missed the tender and passionate and devoted and by now so intensely known and beloved warm body holding her close. He wasn't here. Damn. Where the hell was her wonderful elf? For one short angsty moment she feared he had abandoned her as yet but put the thought aside as preposterous. Over the past days he had made love to her like an overenthusiastic pilgrim who had found his one and only purpose for living, like she were the shrine of the goddess he worshipped without question. Like she were that very goddess. He had told her on several occasions he loved her and would never leave her – may the Maker smite him if he did – and after those declarations had made wondrous love to her again.

Then she noticed the freshly picked rose on the dented pillow next to her. With some difficulty she heaved her head an inch. A joint in her neck popped and cracked. But then a smile unfolded when she saw the trail of rose-petals starting from the pillow and leading to the door of the room. She forgot her sore limbs and joints and other badly though delightfully molested body parts and climbed out of the bed and after draping a sheet around her naked body, started to follow the trail. It went down the stairs, meandered through the spacious hall and eventually vanished into the kitchen. There the smell of roses mingled with the bitter but o so welcome tang of fresh made coffee. And there he was, her lovely elf, clad in just his smallclothes, standing before the stove, watching the steaming kettle with a pot of coffee-in-the-make next to his right hand. The last of the petals ended at his feet. Absentmindedly Hawke noticed he had done something about the mess in the kitchen in so far he had moved the strewn around crockery and pots to a corner on the counter and piled them up in wobbly stacks. She stifled a hearty laugh while she sneaked up on him, a broad smile on her face, and hugged him from behind, pushing her naked frame close to his. The sheet slid from her shoulders and pooled on the floor around her feet. She let her hands rove over his chest and taut abdomen with a appreciative grunt and gave his shoulder something between a wet kiss and a lick. 'I never knew you were this romantic,' she hummed in his ear.

He held his breath for a moment before he answered, 'Apparently there are still sides of me you have to discover. As do I, to be honest. Do you fancy breakfast? I found a few eggs in the pantry and I believe there is some cheese left.'

'I want you for breakfast,' Hawke replied with her most sultry voice and she softly nibbled his skin. It made him quiver.

'May I remind you there stands a kettle with boiling water dangerously close by? One uncontrolled movement could cause disaster.'

'I like danger,' Hawke mumbled; she let one hand wickedly wander south where she caught his alluring already hardening cock, stroked his length through the fabric of his underwear and grabbed him with a velvet grip. To her satisfaction his breath hitched and he became within an instant noticeable more aroused.

He didn't know how she did it, but every time she touched him, talked to him with that undoing low voice or just looked at him with sparkling or veiled eyes she let him melt. He couldn't resist her, but why on earth would he want to. She made him happy, that in itself was enough. But beyond that she had managed to let him overcome his grief over the loss of his memories, and to his amazement had been helpful to regain them even though they still only consisted out of bits and small pieces. It had been a crazy week, or half a week or almost a week – he had completely lost track of time – in which he had learned to forget his sorrows and just enjoyed life, a hitherto entirely alien experience and all due to her. Due to her voice, her warmth, her body, and most of all due to her unconditional surrender and the infinite trust she put in him. She'd made no secret of her loving feelings for him and he basked in this new found sensation. He abruptly turned and pulled her in a firm embrace and started to nuzzle her neck. He gave her a soft bite. 'You minx! I warned you the kettle is boiling,' he grumbled with a badly hidden smirk, pushing his longing manhood against her thigh.

'So I notice,' Hawke chuckled, 'and I told you I like danger.' She subtly moved so his arousal pressed against her moist centre. She longed for him – again. His riveting scent, his smooth and lean and elegant and at the same time pure manly body, his perfect face topped with that wonderful silky sleek white hair, not to speak of the hypnotizing timbre of his voice made her knees weak and her feminine parts ache for his male attention.

He silenced her with a deep and heated kiss because he wasn't capable to ignore her challenge. He tried to pull back before he lost himself and of course it was a hopeless battle. But then again, why should he not lose himself – again? He had done that to both their satisfaction so many times the past ... damned, he really had lost count of the days. 'The kettle,' he protested feebly.

'Can wait for the moment,' Hawke groaned, pushing harder, 'I hear kettles are very patient.'

'Did you now? I hear they mostly blame pots. Or the other way around.'

'They're known for their patience,' Marian insisted, 'I, on the other hand, am not.'

He simply couldn't help himself; he pushed her violently against the kitchen table, lifted her and more or less threw her upon the surface. Marian just cried out with approval and excited exhilaration.

An earthen plate that Fenris had overlooked during his clear away expedition fell with a dull crash in pieces on the tiles of the kitchen floor. They didn't pay it any attention. He entered her with a low almost feral grunt and she received him with hot enthusiasm. She would never grow tired of him. She relished the feeling of his hard cock pounding with fierce eagerness in her and again, as so many times before, she felt her peak growing and start to erupt from down her toes till it filled her whole existence and there was nothing left but the feeling of surrender, of melting with his existence and going up in flames to be born again as a new person. As a phoenix rising up from the ashes of a devastating orgasm.

After his near overwhelming completion Fenris could hardly prevent his lame body from crushing hers; just in time he managed to put his hands on both sides of her head as some kind of counterpoint. A forceful shiver rippled along his spine while he let his breath even out. Finally he pulled out of her, which earned him a faint grumbled protest. He stretched his hand and helped her to sit up. Immediately Marian wrapped her arms around him and hid her face in his chest. It overwhelmed him but he restrained himself. He stifled a soft grunt and instead let his fingers wander along the heated skin of her back and his lips brushed her hair. 'I think,' he murmured huskily, 'I think I have become addicted to you.'

'Really?' she hummed, 'how can you tell?'

'Just the thought of being forced to live without you makes me shiver .' He closed his eyes for a moment. 'If not mortally afraid,' he whispered.

Hawke looked up and touched his cheek with tender fingertips. 'You make it sound like something bad.'

'Believe me, that was not my intent,' Fenris hastened to clarify, 'it's just such a strange feeling. Not bad or wrong, just strange. I never felt like this before.'

Marian frowned. 'Does it bother you?' She sounded a bit strained and he chortled softly in response.

'No, on the contrary; I want to feel like this forever. So I'm afraid you'll have to stay with me till the end of time, whether you wish to or not.' Playfully he tapped her nose.

'Hmm, let me think.' She tilted her head and looked contemplatively up at him but couldn't conceal the merry twinkle in her eyes. 'You're implying I have to spend the rest of my life with the most intriguing, erudite, passionate and gorgeous man I have ever met? My, what an impossible difficult decision to make!'

He laughed out loud, creating a wonderful sound like a fall of in velvet and dark sugar coated gravel and kissed her with tender force. 'I agree. But you can think about it over coffee. That will give you some time.'

'Coffee. Yes. By now I'd love a cup of coffee.' She added with mischievous glee, 'I suppose we both need the energy.'

Smiling Fenris went back to the stove to busy himself with that particular task. He was just in time to save the kettle that had almost steamed dry. He shook his head and with a little crooked grin reminded himself to be more cautious in the future. It was all great and well he lost himself with – and in – Marian but the next time he'd better put out the fire before he jumped her. He raised his brow and almost burst out laughing. That was a very bad choice of words. Marian, his feelings for her, what they had done the past week ( give or take a day), well, he didn't want to douse that fire. And besides that, it would take a complete fire brigade to fight that intense burning bonfire.

In the meantime Marian picked up the bedsheet she had dropped the moment she embraced her elf and enfolded the large piece of fabric around her like some makeshift gown. She started to collect the shards of the plate that had found its pitiful end on the kitchen floor because of their heated lovemaking. Better a plate on the floor than a bottle against the wall, she couldn't help thinking with an impish smirk. And then she froze.

'Take care,' Fenris warned her, 'don't cut yourself.'

She would have found his concern amusing if not adorable – after the numerous injuries she had sustained during the years as a seasoned rogue she wouldn't faint from a minor cut or two – had she heard him which she didn't. For her eye had fallen on a small shining object lying close by the door leading to the neglected garden where the sweet smelling roses were in bloom. She picked it up and turned it between her fingers. It had the shape and appearance of a gold coin. She narrowed her eyes and her lips became a thin harsh line. Her hackles rose. 'Fenris,' she said slowly, 'does this look familiar to you?' There had crept a dangerous note in her voice.

The elf poured two cups with coffee and placed them on the table before he squatted next to her to examine the gleaming item she held in her hand. His merry mood waned within an instant. He went pale under his tanned skin. 'I recognise that,' he whispered, 'this means –'

'I bloody well know what this means. This means war.' By now Hawke sounded outright furious. 'How dare they!' Abruptly she stood up, ready to sweep out of the kitchen but Fenris reacted faster and grabbed her arm. He looked at her with wide eyes and a despaired expression.

'Marian, I feel very uncomfortable with this,' he said hoarsely.

'So do I. And I'm going to do something about it. Right now,' she replied grimly, 'I will not tolerate this.' She didn't miss his anxiety but interpreted it totally wrong.

He fastened his grip. 'Yes, that also but it´s not what I mean. It's not what worries me the most.' He took a deep breath. 'I feel exposed, vulnerable.' He bit his lip and pressed on, 'Don't you see? This shows everyone could have walked in just like that without me noticing. I've been careless and have neglected my safety. Damn it, I let down my guard, I cannot let that happen again.'

Alarmed she stared at him while cold little talons started to claw at her innards. 'What are you trying to tell me?'

And of course to be continued.

Thanks for reading!