Chapter 3

The Way to a Man's Heart

By: Emantsal

The wine was deliciously sweet as it slid easily down the back of her throat. Outside, night had descended on the city, but she felt no compulsion to get up and go home. Besides, it was getting colder outside, the Kirkwall autumn settling in and preparing the way for winter – and inside it was warm, a fire beginning to burn down in the fireplace, the heat spilling out into the room where she was cozily ensconced on an old couch with an equally old blanket thrown over her lap, her feet happily scooted half under the always slightly grumpy elf at the other end of the couch for warmth.

The wine was the perfect ending to a perfect evening. She'd simmered a beef roast all day in wine, adding baby root vegetables towards the end, as well as a few scrapings of fresh horseradish. The added kick of the horseradish went well with the tender beef as well as the side dish of creamy smashed potatoes she had baked with bits of sharp cheddar cheese mixed in. For desert she'd made Fenris's favorite, a Chocolate Mocha Cake with creamy caramel and coconut frosting, dusted with toasted nuts and cinnamon. With a stomach full of food and wine flowing freely through her blood, a warm room and good company, Ryann Hawke was pleasantly drunk. Buzzed, inebriated… actually plastered.

"Stop wiggling your toes, Hawke. I'm not one of your desperately besotted potential husbands who enjoys being poked constantly. In fact, shouldn't you be at home with your cold toes tucked up under one of them?" He groused but didn't bother to move from where he was sitting. Of course, movement of any kind seemed so unthinkable at the moment. Full, warm, drunk… and Hawke… He reached for the bottle of wine she was holding.

"Oh Maker Fenris" she sighed then giggled, taking another longer pull from the wine bottle before sitting up to pass it to him. "This is the first bloody night in over a week she hasn't had some noble or their pasty son over for dinner. They fawn over me, hold my hand and tell me how beautiful, how grand, how wonderful I am. Never mind that my hands have more calluses than theirs, and I carry daggers on several parts of my body. Oh no… they only see the old Amell family crest, and estate wealth… Hawke, the new nobility of Kirkwall." And I hate them all. No, not hate… just completely uninterested.

"There must be at least one you could tolerate," he said, taking his own long drink of the sweet wine. Why did he torture himself like this? Every night she came here it was the same. Great food followed by a recounting of all the eligible rich men her mother was trying to set her up with. He was beginning to wonder if he wasn't a… what was that word Isabella had used? Masochist? Yes, that was it, a masochist.

In the years since they'd returned from the Deep Roads, he'd grown accustomed to her being around, accustomed to her touch, accustomed to the woman. Though he would never let it be more, he found himself craving her nearness more and more.

"Well, no. None of them. Not my type at all." She snuggled down deeper in to the sofa. "I mean, hell… You know Anders has always had this thing going for me. Sebastian, too, kind of... And they're both much more my type. Adventurous, good in a fight, not afraid to get a little blood and guts in their hair… like you and me."

"The Abomination and the Chantry Boy. I can see why your mother is worried, Hawke." It was hard to keep the disgust from his voice. Disgust and something else… He didn't really want to think about the 'something else'. Hawke, think about her, thinking about her that way… with someone else, it always unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.

"Oh come on. I know you don't like Anders…"

"That's putting it mildly. If you married him, who would you sleep with? Him are Justice?"

"Yeah… that is a little weird. And I get the feeling Justice doesn't like me… That could be kinda awkward. But Sebastian's nice. He's a titled prince after all. And if he could ever get past that whole Maker thing, he might be a nice enough husband."

"Are you so anxious to get laid that you'd settle for…" he had to throw up a hand to block the pillow that came flying at his head, careful not to spill the wine clutched in his other hand.

"And when was the last time you got laid, Fenris?" she asked tightly, settling back down on the couch, motioning for him to hand the bottle back to her.

"You know I remember nothing from before I received these markings, Hawke. If there had been anyone before, I have no memory of the affair." Deny, deny, deny…

"Yea. I know, but it has been several years now since I met you. I just thought that maybe since you escaped from Denarius, you might have… you know… visited the Blooming Rose, met a nice girl and bumped uglies together, or a nice guy… I have no idea where I'm going with this…"

"I haven't 'bumped uglies' with anyone, Hawke. If you haven't noticed, Denarius still lives and as long as he breathes, he'll never stop trying to get his precious investment back, even if he has to strip the flesh from my bones to get it. That's not very conducive to… "

"I'd never let that happen," she interrupted, her usually placid features momentarily contorting with anger. With a conscious effort she relaxed back into the couch and continued, "He'd have to go through me if he wanted to get to you. I mean, who'd keep my toes warm? Whose dilapidated mansion would I hide out in when mother wanted to introduce more 'pretty boys' to her unmarried daughter?"

"It is nice to know I'm so highly valued for my house and toe warming skills." So there it was. He had to face it. That was all he was good for.

"Not only that, but you have good wine, you don't hit on me like Anders and those playthings my mother invites for dinner, aaannnndddddd… most importantly, I actually like you as opposed to most people I'm acquainted with."

"And just what is that supposed to mean? You like me because I don't throw myself at you?"

"Exactly. You're not impressed with Kirkwall's newest darling of the nobility. And it's obvious you have no designs on my person," she said matter-of-factly. In the years they'd known each other, Fenris had never, ever, not once, made any kind of move on her. And oh, how she'd wanted him to…. Maybe he just didn't like humans? Or women?

"Hell, I could probably do a striptease right here and dance naked in front of the fire and you'd just sit there and brood, Mr. Broody Fenris." Wouldn't that just be a kick in the pants. It actually sounded like fun. It was getting warm in here…

"Hawke…"

"In fact, maybe I'll do just that. Mother doesn't like me coming over here all the time. Thinks that one day you'll get me drunk and take advantage of me. Not that I'd complain, mind you… Of course, if you haven't been smitten with my charms and undeniable beauty by now, as drunk as I've been some nights, I'd have to say that's a pretty good indication that you're just not interested." She giggled at the image in her head.

"Hawke…" Not that she'd complain? Not that she'd complain? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

"And as for getting laid… I've never done that. Yet. And I don't know if I could trust one of the men my mother parades in front of me to ever let them do… that…" She made a half disgusted face and waved the hand not holding the wine bottle in a vague, dismissive manner. "Maybe Anders… Maybe Sebastian… Hell, maybe Isabella. But does it count as sex if it's with another woman?" Wow, the wine was really loosening her tongue tonight.

"Hawke! I'm not going to sit here and listen to you make up a list of men, and women, you're willing to sleep with. As much as I enjoy your company, I don't think we should be having this conversation." What the hell did she mean 'not that she'd complain'? She was a noblewoman, he was an escaped slave, an elf, squatting in his former master's abandoned house. She had nobility courting her, and she wouldn't mind if they 'bumped uglies'? Maker, the woman was going to be the death of him…

She pulled her feet from under his thigh and put them in his lap, wiggling her toes again. "Fine. Let's make a list of people you'd consider sleeping with. At least one of us should get some before we turn old and wind up sitting here in our nineties, still arguing about who we should fuck… Let's see… There's Isabella, Merrill, that waitress at the Hanged Man, Nicole over at the Blooming Rose - "

"I'm not listening to you, Hawke. I'm not having this conversation. And, if you keep wiggling your toes in places they damn well don't belong, this entire conversation may become moot anyway." What was her game? What was she up to? Hawke's feet in his lap were stirring things to life.

He consciously tried to fight the warmth spreading through out his body. But the wine and her nearness made it difficult.

"I'll wiggle my toes anywhere I damn well please." Bold, brave wine flavored words slipped from her mouth before she could think. It wasn't as if it'd do anything anyway.

"Go home Hawke," he commanded. He'd be damned if he'd be run off his own couch. And it was his house… well, maybe not, but she had her own mansion to go to.

"No. It's too late, too cold, I'm drunk, warm… and besides… MAKE ME."

"What? Are you two again? Plainly you were not disciplined enough as a child and need to be taught better manners."

"So what are you going to do, Fenris? Spank me?" Maker, she hadn't just said that, had she?

"Maybe your future husband would thank me for such actions. You clearly do not know what is, and what is not, acceptable behavior for a woman of your status." The nerve of the woman! Spank me? He'd had just about all he could take with her damn toes, long silky hair that smelled of spring rain, gray eyes laughing at him, daring him, taunting him…

"You wouldn't dare…"

"I. Most. Certainly. Would." The wine and a need to teach her she couldn't play with him like this over powered all rational thought and he reacted without thinking.

She twisted to roll off the couch at the same time he lunged for her. They wound up on the floor in a tangle of legs and arms, Hawke howling in laughter trying her best to squirm away – Fenris focused and intent on keeping her from doing just that.

She was a rogue and a limber one at that, turning and squirming all over the place trying to get away, but even as drunk as they both were, Fenris still had the brute strength to hold her down in place.

Of course his plan, so clear in his head when he'd lunged for her, intent on teaching the most infuriating women he'd ever known that this was his house, his couch, his lap she'd been wiggling her toes in… it all began to fall apart when he realized he was lying on top of her, her arms pinned above her head, her breasts pressed firmly against his chest, his hips cradled between her firm thighs. Her eyes, usually so grey and clear were now the color of a storm darkened sky, something wild and wanton lucking in their depths… her lips parted and so tempting looking…

And then he felt… IT. But no, it couldn't be. Surely it had to be his imagination, which was, he had to admit, running wild at the moment.

But there it was again. Toes wiggling up the back of his calf. A leg bent at the knee as Hawke grinned slyly up at him, the toes of one foot creeping insidiously up the back of one linen clad leg.

Maker, he should have kept his leather armor on instead of changing into his usual linen evening clothes…

"Stop." For the love of the Maker, she needed to stop before he got any harder and…

"Make. Me." She was in heaven. Even knowing this was a very bad idea, she couldn't help herself. She'd wanted him for so long now. And if the hardness she felt between her legs was any indication, he wanted her, too.

He made to move off of her, trying to roll away, trying to move his body away from hers… away from her scent, away from her warmth, away from a need that was almost painful in its intensity, but she stopped him, wrapping her legs around his waist and holding him all but immobile with her gaze.

"I am not a play thing you can toy with, Hawke. I may be an escaped slave, an elf, but I'm also a man and if you keep it up, you may get more than you bargained for."

"So do something about it… Fenris. Go ahead and spank me. If you think you can. You know you want to…"

"Hawke…" His hold on his temper and body was growing weaker. Through his light pants and her own light leather legging he could feel her heat… and wetness. She had no right to torment him so. No right to tease him with…

She squirmed under his weight, her pelvis tilting upward and rocking against his now painfully hard length. "Or maybe spanking is what you have in mind…"

"I didn't think I was on that list of people you wanted to fuck, Hawke."

"And I didn't think you thought of me in that way, Fenris."

"You should go home, Hawke, before I show you exactly what way I think of you."

"You're all talk, elf."

"And you're too drunk to know what you're saying, human."

"I'm not too drunk to recognize a line of bullshit when I hear it."

"Don't push me Hawke."

"Push you? Maker damnit, I've done everything but… Let me up. Maybe Anders or Jethan over at the Rose is up for a little midnight activity." With her head swimming because of his nearness and the wine heavy in her veins, she tried to get up, but he forced her to remain still.

"You're not going anywhere near the abomination, or the whore." She was breathing hard, her lips, so tempting in the firelight, parted and inviting. Soft breasts he managed to ignore for so long were pressed against his chest, branding him through his clothes. Between his legs his hard length throbbed and ached. No! He would not think of her that way. Down that road lay madness. And he would not…

"I'll go where ever I want, and I'll fuck whoever I want. You don't want - "

He'd had enough, and something snapped inside. She'd pushed and pushed until he was past the point of caring. Just the thought of her with the abomination was enough to shatter what little control he had left over himself.

One second he was seeing red, the lyrium in his skin beginning to glow, bathing the room in a blue-white haze. The next, his lips were on hers, hard and insistent as he forced them open with his tongue, invading her, branding her, consuming her…

A/N Honestly, in the game how long does it take these two to hook up? Too long, if you ask me. However, I know waiting and anticipating often make the reward so much sweeter… Well, we'll see where my muse takes me with this. Do they or don't they? Will they or won't they? Will there be pie, or maybe some kind of tart? (Not Isabella!)