Year 6

Hightown

On a Friday

The Champion of Kirkwall was back, strolling through the Hightown market with her head held high. The bounty just paid to her for rescuing the Orlesian noble's prized cat was burning a hole in her coin purse, and each item on display at each vendor's tent was catching her eye. Shining swords, lush fabrics were all glinting in the sunlight in such a pretty way it was hard to resist. But there was only one thing on her mind, one person, specifically, as she resisted the temptation and moved out of the market square, silently vowing to have a proper look later. The ancient stones paving the streets of Hightown felt warmly familiar as she walked the same path she always did when she came this way.

Even in the two years since her defeat of the Arishok, Hawke still turned heads in Kirkwall. She walked briskly around people, her excitement giving her a bounce in her step. Walking through the estates, she kept her eyes peeled for a certain hidden and decrepit door. Every year that went by, it seemed that the door looked worse and worse, but she supposed that was the point. Fenris definitely wanted to keep his presence in the borrowed mansion a secret, and she supposed he was doing a good job by doing nothing about the vines that grew denser and denser. The neighbourhood was relatively crowded that day so nobody noticed when Hawke slipped into the alcove containing the door. She knocked on it three times, hard, to be sure he heard it. He knew she was coming home that day, so he should have been near the front of the house to know when she arrived.

She waited not long before the door swung open inside and she bounded into the elf's arms. Making sure to close the door behind her, she threw her arms around his neck, always expecting him to be taller than her. She laughed with joy as he returned the embrace, feeling his chest that was so easy for her arms to envelope completely.

"I'm happy to see you return in one piece," Fenris said with just a hitch of laughter in his voice. Hawke pulled away to see him smiling and she gave him a knowing look.

"Okay, I know you're still sour about not being able to come," she sighed. He held up his hands, shaking his head.

"No need. I realize now you were probably right about it."

She kept her wrists crossed just behind his neck and moved in to kiss him. "I had to let Anders come, it was about a cat. I wouldn't hear the end of it. Oh, I do have something for you."

Hawke pulled her hands away from Fenris and opened a pouch on her belt, withdrawing a small but heavy sack. Fenris held out his hand and she dropped it, hearing the clinking of coin. "I owe you, anyway. If it were any other animal, I would have taken you."

"Hawke, no, I-"

"Don't argue. Orlesians really have no idea what a moderate reward is." Hawke kissed him again, and his hand was at her waist, pulling her in, keeping their lips together. It was there she remembered just how much she missed him. After four days of absence, she didn't think it would be enough to truly need his touch, but here she was, unwilling to let go of him in that moment, her heart beating quicker and quicker. Her stomach leapt when she felt his hands trailing lower to her hips, palms on her arse. It still surprised her how daring he had gotten in their romance lately. For nearly two years when they first started, he had always been so gentle and so meek, almost never instigating anything with her. He was too shy, too afraid to offend when it was clear he wanted to kiss her, and she found herself always instigating. Soon enough she learned to let him come to her, let him know she wanted it, and if she didn't, she would let him know.

Hawke moaned lightly against his mouth just before pulling away, eyes half-lidded. She laughed a small laugh as she brushed a piece of his hair away from his face. His eyes were, for once, serene, but she detected an underlying trace of desire. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip.

"Well, I know it's only the afternoon, and dinner won't be ready for a few hours, but…"

Fenris just smiled in response and Hawke didn't require any more answers. She took his hand, free of its spiky clawed gauntlet and they left through the front door. Once back in the streets of Hightown, holding another's hand drew even more attention to herself. Most people knew of Fenris, the elf from Tevinter with the strange tattoos, but that was it. Hawke didn't listen, but she was sure the chatter was about how she was supposed to carry on her noble name if she was sleeping with him. Somehow she thought they were forgetting about the fact that her nobility wasn't exactly solid. Luckily nobody knew of her apostate father, at least.

At last they were in front of the Amell ancestral home, Hawke withdrawing her key and unlocking the front door (no break-ins from Isabela yet this year, she must have been growing considerate). They were greeted by a loud barking noise and the large Mabari bounding towards her. Hawke dropped to her knees, giving him a big hug, rubbing her hands roughly over his short fur with affection.

"Hey boy!" She kissed the top of his head as he moved over the Fenris, letting him pat him on the head while panting heavily.

"Go find Sandal, boy!" Hawke commanded, causing the Mabari to tilt his head to the side before smiling and running off towards the kitchens. She drew back to her full height, her fingers clasping around Fenris's once again. She lead him past the fireplace, up the small staircase and to her bedroom, closing the door behind them.

There was no fire burning in her room, but the curtains on the high windows were pulled open, letting plenty of the afternoon sun fill the room. Hawke leaned against the door, a smile still playing on her lips as she watched Fenris, waiting for him to make the first move. She eyed him up and down, waiting for him to either take her in his arms again or tense up. He approached her, kissing her tenderly, and she tasted his joy at finally having her alone with him again. Quickly she noticed his nervousness melting away as he undid the buckle on her belt, letting it hit the floor, confident there was nothing breakable in there. Hawke pushed away from the door, guiding him to sit down on the bed. She straddled his lap, hiking up her robes to spread her knees over him. Fenris's hands supported her back, her thumbs running over his face. Their kiss became increasingly needy and Hawke's hips were already rocking a rhythm into his.

With reluctance, Hawke stood up off his lap, only to begin fussing with the fastenings on the robe. "Lie back, on there," she said, sounding like a command in her frustration. He did as she asked, watching her struggle with the robe until Hawke rolled her eyes at herself. She picked up the bottom of it, bunching it up before hauling it over her body. She was hunched forward, pulling the entire garment over her head and off her arms, leaving it inside out and in a pile on the floor. The entire movement was not elegant in the slightest, and Fenris had to laugh.

"Shut up," she said with a chuckle. She remained only in her underclothes, one knee on the bed. "Can't do that with armour, we'd be here all day. Score one for mages and our robes, which are, you know… robes."

Fenris rolled his eyes, his hands resting on either of her hips as she sat perched on his. She just smiled down at him, feeling his thumb casually hook and unhook in the waistband of her underpants. His eyes were scanning her up and down, taking in all her exposed flesh. She wasn't all hard muscles formed over years of fighting, like himself. Her body was soft, lean, all beautifully undefined with skin unspoiled by scars (or lyrium). But soon enough his eyes were fixated on one significant spot on her. Her hip, just peaking over her underwear, was something that perplexed him for a long time, ever since he saw her wearing this little. There was a small drawing, the silhouette of a bird in flight, not solid, just an outline etched into her skin on her left hip. It was small enough to be mostly covered by his thumb. Fenris had never asked about it. He was aware what it was, Isabela had explained many people get things called tattoos, but those people were sailors, and Hawke didn't seem the type to want what he had heard sailors liked.

Perhaps one day he would ask about it, but his mind was elsewhere the instant Hawke leaned over him to kiss him again, long black hair curtaining their faces. She smiled against his lips, warm fingers trailing up his shirt, pulling it up and they broke apart only for its removal. Hawke relaxed her arched back, her body moulding into his, their lips moving together lazily. She liked to take it slow, give them time to appreciate each other. He knew the drill by now, sliding his hands ever so smoothly down her soft skin, over the curve of her bum, fingertips ghosting over the backs of her thighs just out of reach, hearing the quivering moan escape her mouth. She pulled her knees up, giving him a better grip on her legs, their kisses now heavy, desperate panting in between them

They were so in synch, almost able to read each other's minds, but Hawke suddenly broke that by sitting up. Her arms reached behind her back and the cloth covering her breasts fell away, carelessly thrown off the bed as she dismounted him, turning over and inviting him on top.

"Not like you to roll over, Hawke," Fenris said, his voice husky, lilting only at the end in a joking manner.

"Only so I can witness that adoring gaze of yours from another angle." Her cheeks were pink with arousal, mouth quirking into a soft smile that gave Fenris no choice but to catch her lips again. Her legs tightened around him, but he gently pushed them apart peeling off the last of her underwear, exposing her completely. A patch of her dark hair was between her legs, and a faint but surprising tan line was always under her smalls; somehow her skin got paler. Fenris hesitated, wanting to devour her, but he went the softer route, his mouth beginning to trail kisses down her body. First her breasts, then further down, taking special care to kiss her tattoo, then between her legs.

"You spoil me, Fenris," she said with a laugh. He didn't bother teasing, he never did, he never had to, and when he kissed her where she needed it the most, her head craned back. Oh.

Hawke had no words to utter, only sounds as her back arched and un-arched, writhing on the bed with Fenris only managing to keep her still with his hands firmly on her hips. Each flick of the tongue, stroking her walls, circling her clit, all so slow but it sent her heart racing. Her breath came in laboured gasps and her hands ran over her breasts, thumbs running over nipples. Soon the pleasure began to spread further than her core, creeping up to her stomach, spreading out over her thighs. The build-up to her climax always started this way, like the rest of her body was becoming aware of the stimulation. Previously only producing low moans, her breath began to hitch, high-pitched whines filling the room, signalling him to stop. He pulled away, breath thick with her, and began to slink over her, kissing up back the way he came.

"I aim to please," Fenris said with a satisfied smirk after a moment of listening to her breathing. Hawke met him with a grin and then, using all her energy, flipped them back over to straddle him.

"You do." She could feel his hardness just underneath her, so she wasted no time, pulling down his loose trousers and underclothes in one fluid motion. She held him for only a brief moment before moving over top, feeling him enter her as she eased down. She began slowly, the feeling of control coming back to her legs. Her gaze was cast downwards, only half paying attention to his face, which any other time would be unreadable, but in her bed, he looked just as dreamy as she did. She picked up speed when she heard him moan, and as always, his fingers began to trace near her hips again. He loved to hold her, and she placed her hands over his, feeling his lyrium markings tingling under her palms.

The lyrium tattoos never actually glowed when they were in bed together, but she always expected them to, somehow. Seeing him bared on the bed, his dark skin contrasted against the white of the markings, Hawke always found him truly beautiful. He was lean like only an elf was, but made up entirely of hard muscle, something easily missed by simply looking at him. His skin while covered in the markings was also marred by very old looking scars, ones Hawke wasn't sure she ever wanted to know their stories.

The second she saw his eyebrows begin to knit together, she knew he was close. Quickly she moved one of his hands to her centre, and he knew how to touch her the way she liked. Again she felt the pleasure spreading through her at his touch and she began to ride even faster. She bit her lip for a few seconds before her mouth dropped open and she let out the most satisfied of groans. She let the feeling rip through her, relishing the white heat all in her legs, her back, everywhere, before her attention was snatched back by Fenris growling out a short string of curses under his breath. She felt him jerk, then moan as much as he would allow himself, and then he lay still against her pillows, panting while his hand remained at her core.

Her climax began to fade and her rhythm wound down to a stop. Hawke stayed over him, catching her breath before catching his gaze and after a second, they simultaneously broke out into laughter. It was inexplicable, but for some reason they never once failed to, perhaps at how seriously they must have been taking themselves, each other.

"Well," Hawke said, shrugging her shoulders, still on top of Fenris and not making any effort to move. "That was a good welcome home."

"Consider yourself very welcome." Fenris smiled as she left her position, lying down just beside him, placing her head on his chest. His arms were around her as she leaned in to kiss him, long and soft. They laid there silent, in the bliss of each other's warmth, ankles crossing together absent-mindedly. The sun outside had gone down since they arrived, and soon their bodies would be bathed in rich golden light of the evening. And in that time, Hawke would be sure to hear a knock at her door, Bodahn calling her for supper, going off on a rambling tangent of what was on the menu.

"I have to ask you something." Hawke lifted her head when Fenris's voice broke the silence. Her curious gaze answered him wordlessly.

"What is that marking on your," he began, avoiding any word too crude in the moment, even if that word was just "hip". "That tattoo, is it called?"

"Oh," Hawke said, someone downcast, and a new redness bloomed on her cheeks. "I suppose I should tell you about that one." She smiled, resting against him again before recalling the story. "A long time ago, back in Lothering, I knew this boy. We were maybe sixteen. We had been friends for a long time, his family knew us, and would never rat us out to the Templars, all that." She paused, waiting for his inevitable comments on that situation, but there was silence. "So. I was in a relationship with him, and the first time we… Well, he had these markings on his chest that I had just never seen anything like before."

Hawke was now tracing over the lyrium marks on Fenris's chest, trying to remember exactly what that boy's tattoos looked like. Surely they could never look as good as them. "He explained to me what they were, and I really wanted one. So he gave me one. Took forever, despite how small it is." She lifted her hips up, giving him a clear view of the drawing. "It's a hawk, see! How clever he was, really."

Fenris looked back at her face when she relaxed into the bed again. "How did he do it?"

"With a sewing needle." Hawke placed one finger on his chest to demonstrate. "Dipped in ink, and then," she pressed her fingertip into his skin, gently, "poked right in, over and over. It leaves a permanent stain underneath enough layers of skin. So far, mine's still there."

He tried to wince, but he still looked curious. "Sounds like it hurts."

She nodded. "Definitely not pleasant. But there's something very intimate about it." Her voice had dropped to a purr as her finger traced over his markings once again. "They can't make you rip out someone's heart, though. And if you don't use enough healing salve, it can get grossly infected."

"Sounds very romantic." He was trying to sound disinterested now that he knew the truth, but she could tell he was still curious, considering it, even. She wondered if she had any sewing needles handy. "We better not fall asleep, Bodahn will be bothering us soon enough."

Fenris kissed her again, closing his eyes. Hawke rested against him, holding him for warmth, continuing to trace his markings with a lazy finger. Her eyes were heavy, and even in daylight, she felt her lids closing slowly.