Er, again a warming about sex, I'm afraid. Sorry about that, I just thought they needed some. Hope you don't mind.

Anyway, enjoy!

It started with a kiss part 24

Lots ado about Sebastian, of course. The Mother Hen is concerned. In the meantime Hawke and Fenris fair their own course...

'It's an outrage, Your Grace! He was … he was kissing that girl like there was no tomorrow! And not only kissing! There was groping involved! Lots of it! At inappropriate body parts! And right in front of the children too!'

Patiently Elthina let all the exclamation marks come over her. 'Would you like a cup of tea, Sister Geofride?' Without waiting for an answer she poured a cup from the silver pot sitting on her desk and pushed it in the direction of the upset guardian of the orphans. She put up her most reassuring smile, hiding the worries that were swirling through her own head. 'Tart?'

Geofride bristled, until her eyes caught the plate Elthina gestured at. It was filled with small pieces of pasty, smartly cut into little squares and diamonds. Apple tart, by the look of it. She deflated somewhat. 'Uhm, yes. Tart. Thank you.' She took a piece and started chewing.

Thankful that she had managed to shut up Sister Geofride, if only for as long as the pastry lasted, Elthina let her thoughts run free. In the meantime she regarded the guardian with a friendly smile and said completely different words than the ones that occupied the privacy of her mind. 'I'm certain there's nothing to worry about, Sister Geofride. Give the boy his due. He has worked so hard over the last weeks.'

'That doesn't give him a free pass to do as he pleases,' Geofride put forward with a full mouth. She sounded muffled but still highly affronted.

'And you should give him the benefit of the doubt,' Elthina continued while she slightly raised her voice, annoyed that even a piece of apple tart couldn't shut the other woman up. 'You know his past – '

'Exactly!' Geofride interrupted her, hastily swallowing her last bite and agitated spreading crumps around. She couldn't wait to vent her opinion. 'He was notorious! He chased every skirt in town! No wonder he relapsed! And she encouraged him, the little wench! I saw it with my own eyes!'

Elthina felt a headache coming up. Too much exclamation marks could do that to a person. They seemed to puncture her very scull with nasty little pinpricks. Resolutely she piled the remaining pieces of the apple tart on a smaller plate and practically flung said plate under the other woman's nose. 'Have some more,' she commanded. She feared that, apart from literally gagging Geofride, no measure would be sufficient enough to make her stop talking. But she could try. She very much wanted to question Geofride's story, wanted to believe she had made up the appalling incident out of spite. But besides the fact that she couldn't think of a single reason why she would do such a thing, the woman definitely lacked the imagination to come up with such gossip. She needed to think. Urgently. And she wouldn't get a chance to do so with Geofride's incessant chattering attacking her brain. Determinedly she rose from her chair.

'I'm very sorry, Sister Geofride, but I'm afraid I have an important appointment in a few moments.' (And that was absolutely not a lie, she told herself, firmly. Contemplation could be categorized under "an important appointment with myself". And thus it would absolve her from the atrocious sin of lying.) 'If you like, we can talk about this further this afternoon,' she said with desperate, faked brightness. 'But right now my time is up. Feel free to take the tart with you.' She walked around her desk, pushed the plate into the hands of the bewildered woman, and practically shoved her out of her office. She closed the door behind her back and wearily rubbed her face. Slowly she walked back to her desk and sank down, trying to smother a panic attack. Oh Sebastian, she thought, what have you done this time? The nasty business with the mercenaries who had killed his family had been bad enough. But at least he had come to his senses and had shown remorse. This, however, was a totally different matter. If it was really true what Sister Geofride claimed she had witnessed. Pride and grief wouldn't play a part in this case. She hated to think that he had fallen prey to his cheap desires from old. If so, that would be a major setback.

Absentmindedly she brushed the crumbs away that Geofride so generously had spread around. Most of the mess had ended up in what Sebastian had referred to as the Righteous Cardigan. Probably Geofride left, at this very moment, a trail in her wake that happily was followed by all the mice in the building. Despite the situation she had to smile. With a sigh she poured herself another cup of tea. She apprehended she had to handle this with the utmost caution, no matter how much she wanted to drag him back to the Chantry to give him a good piece of her mind. Of course, even in that scenario, she had to locate him first, and that would be difficult enough. Kirkwall was no small city, and Sebastian and "the little wench" could be hanging out anywhere. Maybe Hawke knew something; he was, after all, one of her friends. Perhaps that meant she had encouraged him in his urge for revenge, although, she had to admit, that was not completely true. In reality she had done the job for him and had not egged him on afterwards. She could not deny that Hawke had a good influence on him. She might persuade him to think twice before he plunged into – whatever it was he would or wanted to plunge into. That thought cheered her up a little.

Fenris forced himself to forget about the whole Sebastian-in-love problem, for the time being. Right now there were other issues to keep him occupied.

'Did you manage to speak with Aveline?' he asked while he and Marian climbed the stairs to the bedroom. 'About the Guard of Honour?' He pronounced the last three words as something extremely funny.

'Ah, yes, I did,' Hawke smirked. 'And she agreed without any protest whatsoever. She was in such a wonderful mood that she even promised to throw in her parade armour as a bonus.'

'Really?' reacted Fenris, crestfallen. 'Are you sure we're talking about the same Aveline? Quite sturdy woman? Has neither patience nor taste for frivolous nonsense? Hates her parade armour?'

'The one and only,' Marian grinned. 'And, if I may add, she definitely had a glow about her. In fact, she looked as radiant as a summer bride. Undoubtedly Isabela would have said something of the sorts that good sex works miracles for a person. Even for Captain Man Hands.'

'So it seems that your meddling has had the effect you aimed for.'

Marian sauntered over to where Bodahn had hung out her new dress. It was no wedding gown, but the garb looked festive enough for the occasion. In sky blue, with a tight bodice and an elegant long skirt, and with the right amount of lace and ribbons without yelling: here comes the bride! 'Well, I wouldn't call it meddling. Not as such. I just dropped a few hints.' She started to get rid of her day-to-day armour. 'Admittedly they were hard to miss.' She dropped her leather greaves on the pile of her armour and wondered if there was time to take a bath. 'I mean, you had to be quite dim-witted or a stiff-necked dolt not to get the meaning...'

Her voice drifted off when she got aware of the sudden silence behind her back. It was not the kind of silence due to lack of response. She was used to that. Often Fenris let her just prattle on, deeming it was not worth the trouble answering her twaddle. No. This time it seemed like a small, very local and very personal black hole had materialized and sucked up all the sound in its direct vicinity. 'Oh, bugger,' she mumbled, steeling herself against the inevitable.

Slowly she turned around to see Fenris staring at the garments Bodahn had laid out for him on the bed. With an appalled expression.

To the elf's dread the clothes involved a dark blue, gold trimmed, velvet tailcoat (with a cravat to match), a silk shirt with lace cuffs, glistening soft deep green in the afternoon light, a pair of dark blue breeches of the finest wool, and – hell! – shining blue leather shoes.

'Do I really have to wear that?' He sounded strained.

'Yes, my love, you have. We must at least keep up the appearance we are attending our own wedding. They won't buy it if you show up barefoot and in your spiky armour. It would be as good as a blatant stated: "No, I don't."'

He didn't react to her mild jibe. Instead he said, still with that dismayed look, 'Where did you ever obtain such – outlandish apparel?'

'At an exclusive little Orlesian boutique named Chez Dominique, in a small alleyway off the Hightown Market. I bought them over there, like paid for them with my own money, because I'm an upstanding citizen nowadays.'

'Indeed.'

Sometimes it was annoying her lover had only one name. Marian remembered very clearly the impact her mother had had on the three Hawke children by using all their names, middle names included, when she called them to order. Just before she would get a firm, pinching hold on an earlobe. 'I may be a rogue, Serah Fenris,' she told him indignantly, (nope, not half as good as Marian Esmeralda Hawke!), 'that does, however, not mean I'm thieving at all times.'

'Quite.'

Vividly she put her hands on her hips and stuck her chin out to tell him where to get off.

'And you didn't consider engaging me in that endeavour? To let me pick my own attire for the occasion?'

Abruptly she closed her already opened mouth. Her eyes fell on his slightly slumped shoulders and she wanted to punch herself. 'I, er, I thought you hated shopping for clothes,' she said meekly and suddenly feeling very humble and about three inches high. 'I suppose I wanted to safe you the trouble.' You blasted idiot! You acted like you were his mother ... or worse. 'I'm sorry,' she croaked. 'You are right and I'm sorry.'

He turned to her and gave her a small but cheeky smile. 'You don't have to apologize,' he said. 'In fact you did spare me a lot of trouble. I don't imagine I would have appreciated coming with you on this particular errant.' He gave her another little smile. 'And I must say I rather like the, er, suit. Or whatever you should call it. But I would have gladly paid for it with my own money.'

The three inches shrunk to two, at the most. 'I'm sorry,' she said again, feeling even more wretched, 'I never intended to patronize you.'

'Of course not. Stop apologizing, Marian. It's not the clothes that are bothering me.'

She frowned. 'It's not? Then, what is?'

Fenris lowered himself on the bed. He pulled his fingers through his hair and pursed his lips. Finally he said, 'I'm immensely longing for some peace and quiet. Frankly, I'm fed up with the whole situation.' He waved a hand at the discussed outfit. 'And that is a part of it. Hence my reaction.' He shook his head. 'My life is in constant turmoil since that first night with you.' He snorted un-Fenris -like. 'Since that first impulsive kiss.' He looked up when he felt her sudden anxiety. 'Don't get me wrong. I don't regret it. I just wished there was more time to cherish it. Without the need of constantly looking over my shoulder in case Varric or Isabela find new ways to make life difficult or complicated. Without thinking about another payback. Without being confronted with unexpected holidays, blown up houses and fake marriages. Or besotted Chantry Brothers, for that matter.' He looked pleadingly at her.

Hawke coughed awkwardly. 'Erm, yes. Things have gone out of hand. Somewhat.' She caught his eyes. 'A whole lot.'

'I am to blame as well,' Fenris continued. 'I participated out of free will.' He let out a soft laugh. 'A good thing, really. A couple of years ago, I couldn't have dreamed I ever got to say such words.' He became serious again. 'You keep telling me, and yourself, that this afternoon marks the end of all the commotion. But I can't help fearing it will never stop. By now I can understand how feuds come to existence and keep on festering for centuries.'

Hawke clambered onto the bed and took position at his back. She started to unclasp his breastplate.

'Is this your way of telling me I must stop complaining and bellyaching?' he informed, a bit fractious.

'No,' Hawke said determinedly, 'this is my way of trying to make you relax.' With his armour out of the way, she began to massage the tight muscles of his shoulders. 'You know,' she said conversationally, while she worked on some persistent knots, 'you have a strong, valid point. I ever so often long for the days when we did not much more than make love.'

Fenris chuckled and immediately after groaned his approval when her hands relieved the nagging tension of a particularly protesting muscle.

'For the days we didn't even know what day it was, precisely,' she continued in tender, near swooning memory, 'and didn't care one bit about it.'

'Yes,' Fenris mused, 'when we, now and again, had to hunt the larder for ever more meagre growing supplies. So we wouldn't faint of lack of nutrition.' He chuckled once more. 'Although, as I remember it, we did that more out of habit. Or out of some kind of inbred instinct. Personally, I could have survived on love alone in those days.'

Suddenly Hawke had to swallow back tears. It was true what he said. They had been perfectly happy. Being together, drinking in each other's love and dedication, had more than sufficed to stay alive. Love had been more than enough and there had been love aplenty. And then they had discovered that blasted broken piece of jewellery and everything had gone awry.

No, not awry. Complex. Idiotic.

She rested her chin on his shoulder. 'But you cannot deny we had a few good laughs.'

His half-hearted agreement got lost in a moan when her lips suddenly started to graze the skin of his neck and especially when the tip of her tongue touched the spot behind his ear. 'And without all the stupid antics of both sides you'd never have learned your true name,' she whispered huskily. 'Or would have remembered your mother's voice, or the colour of her hair.'

That was all true and he wanted to say, yes, you are right, but on the other hand that also was more than disturbing and, in fact, I hardly couldn't cope with it and it nearly drove me insane, if it weren't for her fingers that now sensually wandered over his chest and softly caressed his nipples. So, instead, he grunted something incomprehensible. More future protests got smothered when her hands went further down and lingered at the entrance of his tights while her lips trailed open mouthed, wet kissed along his throat.

'We could relive those days,' she murmured.

'I thought we should be at the Keep within now and – within soon,' Fenris managed, helplessly.

'There is always time,' Hawke said confidently and she removed his shirt. 'They will wait for the bride and groom.' Without him being able to prevent it, she pushed him on his back. 'Or do you think they will call the whole thing off if we show up a few minutes too late?'

'Just a few minutes?' he smirked, finally giving in to her intend. There was no getting away from it. Besides that, her ministrations, together with the memory of their first days, weeks, had turned him tremendously on.

'Hmm,' she hummed, 'or maybe an hour.'

Her words almost got lost in a hot cloud of lust and desire.

With practised ease she untied the laces of his tights and pulled them, together with his underclothes, down his hips. She groaned appreciatively when she was greeted by his eager prancing cock. Teasingly she closed her lips around his tip and playfully let her tongue twirl along the smoothness of the tight skin. She revelled in the sounds he made at this unexpected treat. Smiling inwardly, she took him deeper and started to suck him in earnest. Softly at first, but, encouraged by his grunts and moans, ever more firm. To her satisfaction he grew even harder. Slowly she let his cock slip out of her mouth, to replace her tongue with her lips that planted heated kisses all along his length, before she took him in again. She felt the moist building up between her thighs. Before him, she never had thought that pleasuring a man in this way could be so arousing. But with him it was. She could work herself up to an orgasm, simply by adoring his alluring manhood and losing herself in the effect it had on him. And on her, simultaneously. He never would take advantage of her, he never demanded anything. He always underwent her display of love in near surprised delight.

Like now he sat up and removed her with tender force from his nether regions, pulling her into his arms. 'I want to kiss you,' he said lowly, and without further explanation suited the action to his word. She crawled into his lap while their tongues intertwined and heated up their lovemaking.

At first his hands just held her close to his body, if only to undergo the pure exhilaration of her naked skin pressed to his. But then his fingers started to explore every inch of flesh they could reach – as if it was new territory. As if they hadn't done that a hundred times before. And, as they had experienced that hundred times before, now again basked in the knowledge this was the body of the woman they loved. He loved. The woman he worshipped. The women who, still to his amazement, loved him back.

'Fenris,' she whispered. With a subtle movement she lifted her hips and caught his hard cock between her thighs.

He hardly could suppress a loud cry when he slid into her wet, embracing sheath. They both shuddered. His hands moved to her hips and started to move her, up and down, slowly. 'I love you.'

His words almost got lost in the enormity of all the feelings that overwhelmed him. In the midst of his disquiet she managed to chase his worries away. And this was no cheap trick, as sex so often was. She tried to make clear how much she cared for him. Where words regularly failed, deeds could do the job. And with this deed, she really put him at ease. He could feel, simply smell, she loved him as much as he loved her. Her scent surrounded him and told him everything he wanted to know. Everything he already knew. But it didn't hurt to reinforce his pledge. 'I love you,' he repeated, louder this time. He almost sobbed.

'And I love you,' she cried in response. And not a heartbeat later she got lost in a mighty peak that dragged him with her into the realm of ecstasy.

For several minutes they tried to regain their voices, their thoughts, their common sense, or anything at all that would lead them back to the present time.

'If you're going to say you're sorry, I will beat you,' Fenris finally managed.

It made Marian go into a fit of laughter. 'Rest assured, I'm not sorry at all.'

'Good.'

With some difficulty he pulled it off to remove her from his lap and drag her into her arms instead, wriggling until they both lay in a position that was satisfying. Which meant that he could hold her in his arms as fast as possible, while they were both able to keep breathing.

Í wish we could stay here for the rest of the day,' Fenris murmured in her hair.

'So do I,' Marian agreed, while she let her fingers lazily wander over the supple muscles of his chest. 'But if things play out the way they should, we can enjoy this as often as we want to. In all the peaceful harmony of the world.'

'I will hold on to that thought.'

Reluctantly she freed herself from her lover's arms. 'And now, I fear, we'll have to get ready.
That is, if we want to make that appealing prospect come true.'

'Flowers!' exclaimed Merrill, pleasantly surprised. 'For me?'

'Yes, for you,' Sebastian said with a shy smile. 'You like flowers, don't you?

'Oh, I love flowers!' She accepted the offered bouquet and buried her nose in it to inhale the sweet smell. 'Where did you get them?'

'From the Viscount's gardens,' Sebastian confessed. Sometimes it paid out to be a prince; the guards hadn't dared to thwart him. 'You told me you didn't visit them anymore and there grow much prettier flowers over there than in the Chantry garden.'

Merrill giggled impishly. 'You stole them!'

With a shrug Sebastian said, 'It was for a good cause. What is the purpose of flowers when no one can admire them?' He was amazed by himself. She made him see things in a whole new perspective and it dazzled him. Gone was the stiff, strict and, he had to admit, rather dull Chantry Brother. He had never seen there weren't only several shades of grey between the black and white in which he used to observe the world, but a whole range of colours as well. She had really opened his eyes.

Merrill rose to her toes and kissed him. 'Thank you. They are lovely. You are lovely.'

He snaked an arm around her slender waist and kissed her back with tender passion. 'Words cannot describe how wonderful you are,' he said, truthfully. He had never excelled in poetry, and the meagre knowledge he possessed, failed him completely at this moment. Instead he held up a wicker basket. 'How about going out on a picnic? I know a quiet, little beach at the Wounded Coast where we won't get disturbed.'

Merrill nearly squealed with delight.

Minutes later they walked hand in hand through the city and Sebastian couldn't care less about the strange, sometimes dirty looks they received. He didn't know what the future held, so, just like Merrill, he was determined to make the most of the present.

'One more time,' Isabela said threatening, 'if you say just one more time you don't trust it, I swear I'll bash your face in.'

'Please don't,' Varric said while he and the pirate queen entered the Keep. 'Bloodstains are so hard to remove from this fabric.' He wore the official full dress of the Merchants' Guild, which consisted mostly out of gold brocade, festooned with silver garlands. It made him look like a walking Satinalia tree.

'If you want to keep that ridiculous suit of yours unblemished, I'd shut up, if I were you,' Isabela said savagely. 'I won't take responsibility for my actions if you don't. You are warned.'

The Keep's staff stared open-mouthed at their appearance. Especially Isabela elicited reactions that covered the whole spectrum between shocked squeaks and drooling lechery. With a generous dollop of unveiled heated glances. The temperature seemed to rise several degrees.

'Alright, alright,' grumbled Varric, pretending not to notice all the attention, 'you win. But if things go wrong, be prepared to be pestered with "I told you so's" until your ears bleed.'

'I'm pretty certain you won't be given the chance,' Isabela snarled. But deep down she didn't feel so sure.

Anders started running, his robes billowing, the feathers in disarray and losing touch with his pauldrons. He resembled a bird in moult, with all the fluttering feathers he left in his wake. He didn't care one bit; loosing feathers was the least of his worries. Completely exhausted, after taking the Viscount's Way at two steps at the time, he reached the entrance of the Keep. On pure willpower he coped with two more staircases and made it to the Viscount's office. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Frankly, I don't like Sebastian very much. He can really get on my nerves with his unctuously waffling. Sometimes I want to scream at the screen: your precious Maker has abandoned you all! What's the point of your Chantry, you idiot! But now and again he can make gentle and even witty remarks. So, I decided to accentuate that part and change him a little along the way. (And I can't help thinking that if he would meet the right woman, he would finally see the real light. By the way, that idea of the chaste marriage between him and Hawke is, in my opinion, absolutely preposterous.)

At any rate, thank you so much for reading!