Twisted
Summary: Now he knew why he never really felt free after killing Danarius: he never actually escaped slavery, he'd only gotten a new master.
Rated: M for sexual themes.
Fenris x Hawke (Rivalmance)
Hey y'all (: Just a quickie, an idea that hit me just now. A spicy little hate-mance between Fenris and Hawke, with just a hint of love.
This isn't for the kiddies; no actual sex but very mature themes are disclosed. Please read with discretion.
Enjoy!
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He hated her.
He didn't try to hide it either. Even in public, when she wore the mask of being a kind and helpful hero, he still hid nothing of what he thought of her, and people hated him for it. They branded him a nuisance, vermin, a useless rat who followed the beautiful Lady Hawke around all the time, complaining and arguing. Fenris did not mind. They were blind: blind to the facade that 'Lady' Hawke put up.
He did not deny that she was beautiful: she was comely and pretty, with bright blue eyes that shone with childlike innocence and charm. His eyes hardened as he thought of her figure dancing in his mind.
She had the eyes of a child and the face of an angel, but the heart of a snake.
Fenris knew who she really was. In public, she was strong. She was righteous. She was brave. She was gentle. She was kind. In private, however, she was the yang to the yin that she pretended in public. She taunted him, tempting him with a desire that was alien to him. She took advantage of his weakness, tracing his scars, making him feel pleasure and pain simultaneously. He hated that she made him feel anger, shame, and lust all at once. In fact, he hated that she made him feel at all.
He sat in the corner of his mansion, counting the minutes. He had been sitting there, against that wall, since four in the afternoon, waiting for her. Every night, she would come to him at exactly eleven-thirty to try to break the brick wall that was Fenris. She would put on a sly, confident, cruel smile, and approach him, caress his battle scars and lyrium tattoos. Just enough to light him up, just enough to make him shudder reluctantly. She would cross the line that he drew for others, and she knew it.
She had set out to try to get to him, to try to overpower him and make him hers, because she knew that the only way he would be hers is if she forced him. She was worse than Danarius.
She was Danarius.
'Eleven twenty-four,' counted Fenris. In just a matter of minutes, she would be back again to throw him into a world of rapture once again.
He thought about her tempting image. She would dance around in his mind day and night, beckoning him into her arms, into her body. Even while out on their missions, he couldn't help but trace her curves with his eyes, caress her soft waist in his hands, and allow himself to feel something other than hate. It was all he ever knew, and any feeling other than that was foreign and... unnatural.
At night, in those few days where he actually got some sleep, she would come to him in his dreams and nightmares. Many times, the dreams quickly became ones akin to fantasies; ones where he actually touched her back. He remembered the way she would sigh and gasp in his dreams as she rode the waves of pleasure with him, and wondered if she would do the same in reality as in his dreams. Sometimes, even, he enjoyed dreams of her hurting him. He would wake up, covered in sweat, and groaning in misery and discomfort when he realized that it was all a dream. It sickened him how prevalent she became in his life.
'This is her fault,' thought Fenris bitterly, 'She's a desire demon, tempting me away, trying to break me. She's just like Danarius.'
In a few moments, however, the desire demon would come, Fenris knew.
'Eleven twenty-nine,' thought Fenris. He leaned his head back against the wall, his eyes staring up into nothingness, trying to erase the conjured image of her face from his head. He tried to wipe away the memory of her touching his tattoos, and the way they would glow softly, responding to her touch. She said that she appreciated a man with tattoos; that it made him look strong, bold, beautiful. He would push her away, disgusted by himself. He would never admit how her touch made him feel.
The front door creaked. Fenris never even bothered to lock it; the desire demon was quite good at lock-picking, anyways.
The clicking of heels echoed in the grand main hallway, alerting Fenris of the incoming intruder. Slowly, the door to the master bedroom was opened, and the demon stepped into the room.
Hawke walked in, feeling more confident than usual about this visit of hers to Fenris. She looked around, her eyes scanning for Fenris, until she spotted him sitting against the wall opposite to the bed, his knees drawn up to his face, looking submissive despite his signature scowl. She smirked, making her way over to him with a dominant air. Her shoulders were back, her cape flowed in the wind behind her, making her look like a hawk seeking its prey. She stood in front of Fenris.
"Hello there, Fenris," said Hawke in a sugar-sweet voice. Fenris glared up at her, saying nothing. Hawke pouted.
"Oh come now, is that any way to greet your old friend of seven years?" asked Hawke, feigning hurt.
"I've helped you kill your former master and his main pupil, find your sister, and freed you from the chains of your former life. Why do you not accept the friendship I offer?" asked Hawke, sarcasm dripping from every word.
"I would not become friends with a false hero. You arrive here every night, seeking to torment me and push me to the brink. You enjoy making me suffer. Why do you do this?" spat Fenris, his voice faltering more with each word. He needed to know.
"Because you love it, Fenris. You enjoy being submissive, no matter if you admit it or not. I know you've been waiting for me since our last mission a few hours ago. You love the way I make you feel, because you're so used to pain that you've actually begun to enjoy it a little. I've seen the way you look at me in public, and I know you look forward to our little... encounters. You like the way I touch you, the teasing way I mean, because it feels good, a pleasure that you are not familiar with. You're afraid of affection, Fenris. You're afraid of touching me, and that's why you revel in me touching you. That's why I wonder, 'How much longer until you crack, and take me?'" explained Hawke with a sly smile
Fenris sat still, shocked. This woman was impossible. She touched him and teased him because she knew she could, and he wouldn't do anything about it. Now he knew why he never really felt free after killing Danarius: he never actually escaped slavery, he only had a new master.
Hawke chuckled as she read Fenris' expression. She leaned over and began to nibble on his pointed ear, her hands roaming across his armor, fumbling for the clasps. She wanted to see him; all of him. Fenris began to protest after a few moments, pushing against her, gently but firmly. Hawke scowled, unimpressed by the lack of progress, but then, an idea hit her.
"Come now, little wolf, were you as disobedient with Danarius as you are now with me?" asked Hawke. Fenris stiffened at the sound of his old pet name. Hawke smiled, leaned over once more and whispered in his ear, her fingers soothingly stroking his silvery hair.
"I know that deep inside, you're nothing but a beast, wishing to be tamed," Hawke said provokingly. Fenris grew more tense, clutching his crossed legs.
"But what's a tamed beast that doesn't listen to its master?" Fenris growled lowly, the sound rumbling from deep within his chest. He did not have much longer until he cracked. When did it become so easy to control him like this, he wondered.
"I know Anders would have complied to my requests, why don't you?" asked Hawke. This was the last straw.
Fenris saw red. He would have been able to take anything, anything except being compared to that mage.
"Do not ever, EVER, compare me with him," growled Fenris dangerously. He then lost all control.
He pushed Hawke back roughly onto the floor, attempting to rip her top off, grunting as he collided with her on the cold floor. She responded just as quickly, finding the clasps on his spiky armor and throwing off the annoying garment, her hands running all over his broad chest, smiling satisfied to herself. His lips quickly found hers, claiming her ruby-red ones with his. His hands grasped her hair, pulling it roughly, feeling the silky material pool into his hands invitingly.
Hawke's hands clawed at his arms, coming into contact with his tattoos once in a while, causing Fenris to groan painfully, but encouraged him to continue with his minstrations. Fenris' arousal grew with every passing second. Suddenly, he lifted Hawke of the ground, and pushed her mercilessly against the wall, knocking the wind out of her. Hawke wrapped her petite legs around Fenris' waist, bringing him closer to her than he had ever been. Her hands wrapped around his broad shoulders, her nails digging into his skin delightfully. He began to lose himself in her.
Fenris sucked on Hawke's neck harshly, leaving marks that were sure to stay for weeks. He opened his eyes for a moment to drink in the sight of her. She was truly a sight. Her hair was dishevelled, wildly flying in every direction, and her eyes were closed, lips slightly parted and breathing heavily. Fenris nearly groaned at the sight itself. He couldn't wait any more.
With one hand on her waist, he held up her body with a raised knee as his other hand roamed to the buckle of her slim trousers. Hawke gasped and opened her eyes.
"Stop, Fenris," commanded Hawke, but Fenris would have none of it. He needed to claim her immediately; needed to make her pay for all those weeks of torment and temptation she inflicted on him. He continued to fumble with the clasp that would unlock her deepest treasures.
"Fenris, I said stop, now!" boomed Hawke, as she pushed away from him. She stood still, trying to catch her breath, and Fenris let go, grudgingly. As soon as Hawke caught her breath, she smiled up at him satisfied.
"I think we've had enough playtime for tonight." Fenris was about to protest, but she shushed him.
"Sshh. Tomorrow you'll have a little more of me, I promise. Just be a good little wolf, and don't argue with me any more in public. Can't have people thinking I'm a bad girl, can we?" asked Hawke, knowing that she had him wrapped around her finger. Fenris stared at her, his glare burning holes into her eyes. There was little else but hatred in his eyes, and Hawke chuckled. She stood up on her tippy-toes to give him a kiss on the cheek, and re-buttoned her top.
"Good night, Fenris," she said, winking at him as she exited the master bedroom, and finally, the mansion, where she disappeared into the night like the rogue she was.
Fenris fell back against the wall once more, his face buried into his hand. He felt sick to his stomach. Unfortunately, she would make him wait another twenty-four hours for another taste of her. He'd never felt this confusion, this sickening uncertainity with anyone else. He hated not knowing how to feel about her, whether to kiss her or kill her, whether to hold her in his arms tightly or push her further away. This was why he hated her.
It wasn't all that bad, however.
After all, Fenris loved to hate.