Mary, you really came through for me with this chapter. You made sense of a ridiculously long, confusing chapter, written in the middle of the night by someone who'd taken too many cold & flu powders. Thank you!
My new avatar was painted by the very talented Aynslesa as a commission. You'll find a larger version at her Devianart page, at: aynslesa . deviantart . com / # / d4ux0wr (remove spaces). Please let her know what you think! I'm thrilled with it. Thank you to her and to my friend Carrie, who bought the commission for my birthday!
~o~O~o~
Fenris awoke but didn't open his eyes. Although his markings ached, he was otherwise warm and comfortable and had no desire to move, or rise, immediately. He'd started to become slovenly since sharing a bed – or a bedroll – with Fletcher; at one time, he'd be up and about before the sun rose, but these days, with a nice warm body next to him, he'd been rising later and later.
Well, if he was slovenly, then so be it, he mused with a small shrug of his shoulders; it wasn't a problem to him, and Fletcher actively encouraged it.
He shifted slightly to take the pressure off his hip and shoulder, and snuggled down. Just as he was about to drift off again, he was disturbed by a loud snort from behind him.
Fletcher was snoring. Again.
As his senses returned to him, though, Fenris wondered how Fletcher had moved behind him without his knowledge. And besides, didn't Fletcher know that Fenris didn't like anyone being behind him?
Irritated by the mage's apparent inconsideration, he swivelled onto his back, and just as he was about to dig Fletcher in the ribs, his nose made contact with a pink, very wet, snout.
"Begone!" he exclaimed and, now quite awake, he sat up and glared at Tufty, who trotted closer to Fenris and snuffled at his leg.
"Fletcher!" Fenris called, looking around for the mage as he recoiled from the nug. "Fletcher! One of your pets has found its way in here! I thought we discussed this last night!" With another glance around the small antechamber, it was clear that Fletcher had stepped out; for breakfast, judging from the smell of porridge that wafted in.
"Hawke!" Fenris shouted in his harshest voice, backing up against the wall and scowling at Tufty, who was attempting to burrow under his thigh.
"No! You cannot…bury yourself there!" he scolded the creature, before realising he was still raising his voice, and he lowered it to a sibilant whisper. "That is my leg," he informed Tufty, who gazed up at him for a moment before resuming his burrowing. "What are you doing? That is solid rock! You cannot dig through it, you cretinous…"
He pushed himself up, irritated at himself for having a conversation with an unintelligent animal, and even more so at Fletcher for having allowed the creature into their sleeping quarters. "Fletcher!" he called again, his eyes widening and then narrowing as Sprinkles ambled into the small cave and began to sniff at Fletcher's pack. Feeling something wet on his unclad foot, Fenris looked down to see Tufty licking it, the creature's tail swishing from side to side.
"Stop that!" Fenris barked. "I do not require a wash from you! I said stop!" Fenris took a step away, only for Tufty to close the gap and push its snout against Fenris's foot. "What is the matter with you?" Fenris demanded, hands on hips, a note of something approaching panic in his voice. "You! Come here!" he commanded Sprinkles, who completely ignored him. "Come and…play with your mate, or whatever it is you…things do."
Sprinkles promptly lay down, seemingly oblivious to the elf's growing anger.
"What do you want?" Fenris bleated with a pleading look at Tufty, who was continuing his attempt to burrow under Fenris's foot. Sighing heavily, Fenris picked up his blanket and bunched it up, placing it back down on the ground. He then plucked Tufty from the ground, and, holding him at arm's length, he placed the nug next to the blanket.
Much to Fenris's relief, Tufty began to burrow under the blanket.
"Hah!" Fenris intoned smugly. Then, realising that he was smiling, he took a deep breath and thought of Fletcher, who he was still annoyed with. The elf's expression turned dour and he stalked toward the entrance of the antechamber.
Then, he stopped and turned around with a long-suffering sigh. Walking over to Fletcher's blanket, he picked it up, bunched it up and placed it next to Sprinkles. "Here. Burrow under this," he instructed the nug, but Sprinkles continued to ignore him, and scampered away.
"Suit yourself, then!" snapped Fenris, furious that the nug had rebuffed his generous offer. "That is the last thing I do for you!" Turning on his heel and entering the main chamber, Fenris stopped in his tracks, almost bumping into a grinning Fletcher, who stood outside the antechamber, his arms folded and his legs casually crossed at the ankles.
"You and the boys seem to be getting along well," the mage observed.
"You sent them in there on purpose, didn't you?" Fenris accused, his cheeks pink with indignation.
"Well, I couldn't wake you. And you go on at me about my snoring!" Fletcher began to laugh, but when he noticed that Fenris didn't appreciate his quip, he straightened his face and sighed. "Look, I just don't trust those dwarves around them; did you see the look on Thirin's face when he was talking about nuglets? Tufty and Sprinkles are only about six weeks old, according to Varric, and they won't mate with females, so they could be chucked in the pot. You don't want that, do you?" Fletcher pouted and batted his eyelashes in what he hoped was an adorable and charming way.
"That face will not avail you," snapped the elf. "I do not appreciate being woken by a slobbering animal!"
"It hasn't bothered you before," replied Fletcher with a shrug and a cheeky half-smile.
"You are impossible," groused the elf, walking away.
"Wait!"
Fenris huffed and turned back to face Fletcher. "What?"
"I'm sorry I sent them in to you. I thought it would be funny. I didn't take your feelings into consideration. I won't do it again; I'm sorry, Fen." Fletcher sighed and pushed his fingers through his hair. "I suppose I shouldn't become too attached to them, anyway; they'll probably be eaten eventually." He sighed again and waved his hand in front of them. "Let's go and get some breakfast."
Watching as the mage walked past him, Fenris was beset with guilt; Fletcher was a healer who saved people's lives, and he was, in a way, trying to save the nugs' lives, as well.
"If we are going to keep them," the elf began tersely, and Fletcher stopped, slowly turning around, "you will need to instil some sort of discipline in them. The one with the patch of hair on its crown-"
"You mean Tufty?"
"Yes, I mean Tufty. That one will not leave me alone, and the other one completely disregards my commands."
"They're not dogs, Fen; they don't follow commands," Fletcher reasoned. "And I was talking to Torbal earlier, and he reckons that Tufty has taken a shine to you for some reason; he seems to like the way you smell, hence his constant sniffing."
"The way I smell?" Fenris raised his arm and sniffed at his armpit; he then smelled the front of his shirt. "What do I smell like, then?"
Fletcher moved closer and lowered his voice. "You smell of musk and leather and fresh sweat…and there's something woodsy about you, as well; probably the soap you use. I also like the way you smell. A lot."
Disarmed, Fenris swallowed and shifted his weight as a shiver travelled through him. "I…do not want them sleeping with us. Or waking me."
"Never again," Fletcher murmured, his gaze, intense and full of longing, causing Fenris's stomach to knot. He leaned in and cupped Fenris's face with his hand, positioning his nose against the elf's neck and inhaling deeply. "A lot," he whispered, his lips brushing against the elf's ear.
Fenris took a hasty step back, his eyes darting around the chamber, and he haltingly cleared his throat. "Um…perhaps we should…break our fast. That…is what we were talking about…wasn't it?"
"Yes, we'll get breakfast. And then we'll get down that tunnel. And then," Fletcher again stepped close to Fenris, "we are going to find that special place of ours. I want to be alone with you, Fen. Today. No nugs, no other people. Just you and me. You'll have to excuse me, but I've been reading Varric's book."
Fenris took a deep breath and nodded, and Fletcher took his hand, leading him away from their antechamber. Fenris immediately pulled his hand loose, but Fletcher caught a fleeting smile, and, deciding not to push his luck, he walked ahead.
"Today," Fenris said quietly to himself, his heart beating wildly, and he then looked down at his feet, feeling a by-now familiar wet sensation. "You have returned," he said to Tufty with a sigh, and he glanced at the entrance to the antechamber, where Sprinkles was emerging. "Come," he ordered the nugs. "You had better not wander off. Fletcher will only fret, and I will not take kindly to that. Do we understand each other?"
Tufty blinked and twitched his nose before nudging Fenris's foot. The elf shook his head, not quite believing that he was having another conversation with a nug. "Hmph," he grumbled as he looked over at Sprinkles, who again wasn't taking a blind bit of notice. "And I suppose you will do whatever you please."
"When you've finished negotiating with the nugs, I have a bowl of porridge here for you," Fletcher called over with a chuckle.
"Fasta Vass," Fenris muttered, and walked over to the smiling mage, with Tufty in hot pursuit.
~o~O~o~
After breakfast, scouting parties were sent along two tunnels which led in the direction the party needed to go. Anders's first choice was deemed too unstable and risky to travel along, but thankfully, the second tunnel, running almost parallel to the first, was judged to be safe.
"It'll take slightly longer to negotiate," Anders told the group, gathered around him, "but eventually it joins onto this large tunnel," he said as he pointed it out on the map, "which will put us back on track. That tunnel also leads back to tunnel seven."
"Wasn't that where the darkspawn were heading?" Fletcher asked him.
Anders shook his head and glanced anxiously at Varric. "No…that was tunnel eight."
The group fell quiet, until Varric broke the silence. "Where are they now, Blondie?"
"Do you-do you want to discuss this in private?" Anders asked.
"No. Just tell me," the dwarf ordered, a little impatiently.
"I didn't want to say…" Anders sighed. "They're moving away from tunnel eight, now…away from us, as well. There are fewer of them than there were to start with. Maybe…maybe there were some survivors among Bartrand's group."
"Fine," said Varric, his expression blank, but his voice was hard and cold. "When we get to where we're going, maybe a few of us could go back and investigate what Bartrand found so fascinating in tunnel seven. There's no point letting his death go to waste and us leaving here empty-handed."
"We don't know he's dead, Varric," Fletcher consoled.
"He's dead," insisted the dwarf. "It's better I accept that, than my every waking moment being consumed by thoughts of murdering the bastard. I'm just glad my mother didn't live to see this." He picked up his pack, straightened Bianca and stomped towards the safe tunnel. "Are we going, or what?" he barked before continuing on his way.
"Is he going to be all right, Hawke?" Anders asked the mage.
"I'll keep an eye on him," sighed Fletcher. That's two of you.
"Perhaps his partner should do that?" Fenris queried with a frosty glance at Anders.
"I do know that, you know," Anders spat back. "Believe it or not, us mages can think for ourselves, and will get on quite well without your sage counsel."
Fletcher covered his face with his hands and shook his head, laughing in spite of himself, as Anders stormed off. "I think Anders has his focus back now, you know," he advised the elf as he removed his hands.
"I was just making certain," the elf claimed with an infinitesimal quirk of his lips. "You have quite enough to think about. I am merely looking after my partner, as is my duty."
"That's very generous of you, Fen." A small smile passed between them and they followed Varric and Anders, ready to undertake the next leg of their journey.
~o~O~o~
As Anders predicted, the journey through the tunnel was long, and two meal stops were made. Along the way, a few precious gems were discovered, as well as several small orange stones – which the mages recognised as Lifestones – which were abundant in one particular section of the tunnel. Although each stone was only worth a few silver, the two sacks' worth they collected would fetch considerably more. Fletcher, after consulting with the group, decided they were worth taking along; they could always be discarded if something more valuable was found later.
By the time the group reached the next chamber – which was considerably smaller than the others they'd camped in – Torbal, Vonim and Thirin, after some debate, decreed that supper should be prepared, as it was quite late up on the surface. The three dwarves seemed to possess an innate sense of time while they were underground, and several of the humans frequently asked them the time, which the dwarves laughed at. For the sake of the strange humans, Torbal had started to announce roughly when the sun rose and set, and when it was midday.
A frugal vegetable soup, thickened with cornmeal was prepared, and served with biscuits. Most of the group was too tired to prepare, or eat, anything heavier than that. After Fletcher had consulted with Sheldon and Thirin, it was decided that nothing too fancy would be prepared until the nugs had started to breed, which would happen in roughly four weeks' time. Fletcher was worried about stretching the food until then, but decided to push that thought aside for now, though it lingered and broke through his consciousness occasionally.
While the supper things were cleared away, Fletcher took Fenris aside. "I'm going to find somewhere for us to sleep tonight," he promised. "Why don't you carry on reading Beth's book, or take a bath, if you think you need one?"
Fenris smiled and pulled the neck of his shirt out, sniffing beneath it. "I still smell reasonably woodsy," he quipped. "I believe I shall read for a while. I wish you luck in your search. Do not go too far," he warned.
"Promise." Fletcher winked at the elf and walked over to Anders, who had promised to look after Tufty and Sprinkles each night. Fenris watched him go, and rubbed his temples, feeling the beginnings of a tension headache. With a sigh, he retreated to a quiet part of the small chamber, sat down, and took out his book.
When Fletcher returned almost an hour later, he went straight over to his bedroll, which he promptly rolled up and slung across his back together with the rest of his belongings. From the corner of his eye, he could see that Fenris – who sat against a wall studying The Rise and Fall of Ferelden - was watching him curiously, and, when Fletcher had completely cleared away his things, he strolled over to the elf and crouched down next to him.
"Have you changed your mind about the expedition?" Fenris queried dryly. "If so, you will have rather a long walk back."
Fletcher grinned and shook his head. "Nope. Get your things together and come with me."
"Get my things together? Have you…"
"I've found somewhere special for us," Fletcher replied with an enthusiastic nod. "You've got to see it. You'll love it, I promise."
His heart rate increasing, Fenris glanced around the chamber and then gave Fletcher a stern look. "Are you aware that we are attracting…attention?"
Fletcher also looked around, noticing that some of the workers were averting their gazes from the couple, amid a few sniggers and whispers. "Okay…" Fletcher mumbled, feelings his hopes ebb away. "Do you…do you want to leave it?"
"I did not say that," retorted the elf irritably, and Fletcher placed a hand over his mouth and nodded, his eyes glazing over. "You could have just told me privately, instead of making a show of the fact that we will be 'sleeping' apart from the others."
"Right," Fletcher muttered, his own irritation obvious. "Sorry for being myself. I thought you were quite receptive to the idea of us having some privacy."
"That was your idea," Fenris began, but was cut off by Fletcher's palm being thrust at him.
"Yes, it was my idea," Fletcher hissed, "because you're so obsessed with what other people think about us. I thought it would be nice, just this once, for you to relax and not have to look around every time I touch you. I don't have a problem with the others seeing us being affectionate with each other, but I guess I have no shame. I am a mage, after all, and you know what they say about mages, don't you?"
Angered, Fenris's eyes flashed. "If you are so concerned with my feelings, then why could you have not told me discreetly? We could have left without anyone knowing."
"Oh, so we should have just buggered off without letting anyone know where we would be all night? Perhaps I should have asked the workers to turn around while we gathered our belongings? That wouldn't have caused any gossip at all, would it? Oh, wait," Fletcher held his hand up again when he saw the elf was about to speak. "This is where you tell me I don't understand you. Well, you're right: I don't, and I'm fed up of trying. Let's just forget it."
As Fletcher turned and walked away, the shocked elf stammered, "Fletcher, I did not mean…"
"No, forget it," said Fletcher without turning back. "I've had enough. I just don't know how to take you. I found a really nice place for us – which I thought you'd like - and I'm not letting it go to waste." He walked over to Varric and told him where he'd be spending the night. To his credit, Varric didn't glance back at Fenris, though it must have been obvious that they'd quarrelled.
"Anyone wanna help count those orange stones?" Varric asked loudly, and a few volunteers joined him. Varric's invitation was meant for Fenris as well, but the elf barely heard him, his eyes on Fletcher's back as the mage left the chamber through one of the tunnels.
~o~O~o~
Angrily throwing his belongings and torch on the ground, Fletcher slumped down next to a small gap in the wall of the tunnel and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, slowly and deliberately releasing a shaky breath. He rubbed his face with his hands and then, as his eyes opened, he stared blankly ahead as a small shadow fell across him.
Fenris silently walked nearer and, after a moments' hesitation, he sat down on the ground a few feet away from Fletcher. For the next few minutes, neither man spoke and a heavy atmosphere permeated their section of the tunnel.
"I shouldn't have gone on about Varric's book," Fletcher said quietly at length. "I got over-excited. I should have known you'd be nervous. Believe it or not, I didn't find this chamber for us to have sex in…not unless you wanted to, and you obviously don't. I'd be quite happy for us to read all night. Bloody hell, I'm babbling. What-what I'm trying to say is, I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just…" He groaned and his head fell back against the wall.
"I am nervous," Fenris confessed in almost a whisper, and Fletcher looked at him, his brows meeting. "I…want this more than anything, but…you know why. I do not know what will happen." Fenris shuffled nearer to Fletcher and hesitantly laid a hand on the mage's arm. "You are the only thing in my life that has ever been truly mine; not that I consider that you belong to me in any way, but…I do not want to share you with anyone else. I do not want the others to know. I want to be alone with you, and yet, I fear that very thing, for your sake…and…for mine. I have never allowed anyone so close before."
Fenris shook his head, and Fletcher also moved closer until their legs were touching. "I do not want to hurt you," Fenris went on, "but…"
"You don't want to be hurt, either."
Fenris exhaled and nodded once, his eyes downcast. "I do not think that you would, but..." He groaned and looked into Fletcher's eyes. "Why is this so difficult?"
"Oh, Fen." Fletcher took Fenris's hand. "This is not me trying to pressure you, but nothing happened the other night, did it? You were able to let yourself go, and I think we became closer because of that."
"I agree," murmured the elf, "but this feels…different. Each time I think I am breaking away from my former life, Danarius's spectre looms large. I do not seem able to free myself from him."
"Don't mention his name," Fletcher whispered. "He's not welcome. Come here." He placed his arm around the elf and they sat together in silence for a while.
"I…would like to see this special place of yours," Fenris murmured eventually. "You were very excited about it; I am sorry I did not appear to share your enthusiasm. I…do like to see you happy, despite all evidence to the contrary." Fenris's voice broke with his last word, and Fletcher kissed the side of his head.
"I know…I shouldn't have reacted like that. I should know by now when you're afraid of something. As soon as I came out here, it hit me. I'm such a fool."
"Then we are fools together." Fenris laughed softly, though he betrayed his anxiety by wiping his palms against his breeches.
"How very true." Fletcher again kissed the elf's temple before pushing himself up into a squatting position.
He pointed to a small shaft that led off the tunnel. "We need to crawl through here," he told Fenris, lying in a prone position.
Fenris crouched down and peered through the narrow shaft. "You crawled through there? What if you had become trapped?"
Fletcher shrugged again. "Well, then I wouldn't be here talking to you, would I? Now pass me your things; I'll push them through first."
Sighing at Fletcher's casual disregard for his own safety, Fenris passed over first his pack, then his bedroll, to Fletcher, who shoved them through the gap, before pushing his own belongings through. "No fondling," he warned Fenris as he began to crawl through.
"You are hardly in a position to stop me," teased the elf, feeling a little more at ease, and Fletcher felt a small hand brush against his leg as it grabbed the hem of his robe.
"Oy! Stop that!" laughed Fletcher, quickly wriggling through, hearing a quiet snort from behind him.
Fenris released the robe and also lay down on the ground, following Fletcher through with much more ease. Just before Fenris's head emerged through the other side, Fletcher touched his hair to stop him.
"Close your eyes," he requested.
"Why?" asked Fenris suspiciously.
"Please, I want this to be a surprise."
With a soft sigh, Fenris did as asked and, after crawling through, Fletcher helped him to his feet, turning him around slightly.
"Now, open them," said Fletcher, smiling.
Slowly, Fenris opened his eyes, not knowing what to expect, but his own imagination could not have conjured the sight that met him.
They were in a small grotto, roughly forty feet square, with no other exits. In one corner a fire had been lit, presumably by Fletcher during his first visit. The far end of the chamber was spanned by a white, foamy rimstone pool, and above it, a sheet of pure calcite hung from the sloped ceiling like a billowing curtain. Several thin stalactites of gypsum and calcite hung just behind the curtain, a magnificent natural chandelier that was wondrous to behold. Only the crackle of the fire could be heard in this silent and still place, and Fenris and Fletcher felt they'd been caught in a moment of frozen time, that only they would ever have the privilege of glimpsing.
An awed smile spread across Fenris's face and when he spoke, his voice was hushed. "This is quite a find. I see now why you were eager to show it to me."
"Look up," Fletcher said softly.
Fenris glanced briefly at Fletcher and then upwards, his mouth falling open as his eyes met the high ceiling of the chamber. Against the pale rock were dotted countless tiny, blue, spherical crystals from which emanated pale, ethereal light.
"That is lyrium," Fenris stated quietly, almost reverentially.
Fletcher nodded and moved closer to Fenris, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Can you feel it, Fen? That gentle hum along your skin? That was what made me investigate this chamber in the first place. I felt like I was being called inside."
"I feel…something, but I had not really noticed until you mentioned it." Fenris looked into Fletcher's eyes and saw the tiny lights reflected in them. "My skin…I initially thought there was a chill in the air, but this is…different, somehow."
Fletcher moved even closer and removed his hand from Fenris's shoulder, slipping it around the elf's waist. "It's like looking up at the stars, isn't it, Fen? I think it's beautiful."
"It is," whispered Fenris, his eyes never leaving Fletcher's, which were still gazing up at the ceiling. "Thank you for sharing this with me."
Fletcher's eyes moved to Fenris and he felt a flutter in his chest at the look on Fenris's face: he wore a gentle smile and his eyes were heavy-lidded, and fixed upon Fletcher as though he was the only person that had ever existed.
"Fen?" Fletcher asked softly, "would you like to spend the night with me, here? I mean, when I say spend the night…I mean, well, we don't have to..." He laughed and clasped the back of his neck, and Fenris smiled, tilting his head slightly. "I just saw this place and I knew I had to show it to you, and it would be perfect for spending some time alone." He sighed and removed his hand from around Fenris's waist. "I wasn't presuming anything, you know."
"Really?" Fenris asked indulgently. "I thought that was exactly what you were doing. You were reading Varric's book, after all."
"I-I know, and I know I got a bit…excited, earlier, " Fletcher stuttered, his face reddening as his eyes once again met Fenris's. "I mean, I've thought about it, of course I have. You're…" He moved his hands up to rest on Fenris's cheeks. "Well, we've become quite close recently, and, yes, I've been thinking about it."
Fenris dipped his head slightly and then his eyes widened and Fletcher felt something pierce his heart as they met his own. "…But I know that, with your past, you may not…I would never pressure you into something you're not ready for. Well, not purposely. But I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it. Maker, I don't know what I'm going on about. I…feel nervous, too."
"Let us not speak of my past," Fenris murmured softly, resting his hands on Fletcher's shoulders. "There is no place for it here. I…have also thought about…being with you."
"Have you?" whispered Fletcher, a fine tremor running through his body.
Fenris nodded. "Yes, Fletcher. I have thought about it often."
The silence around them seemed to deepen, and Fletcher stroked Fenris's face with his thumbs, looking deeply into his eyes. "Tell me," he whispered.
Fenris hung his head shyly. "I have…thought about giving you pleasure several times since we met. More so since…the other night."
"H-have you?" Fletcher asked again, his mouth suddenly bone-dry, heat pooling in his lower body while his upper body shivered.
Fenris ran his hands down the mage's arms. "You are a very attractive man, Fletcher. I thought as much the very first night we met."
"You liked me even then?" Fletcher asked in surprise, his fingers gently tangling through Fenris's hair.
"I thought you were handsome," Fenris clarified. "It took me a while to like you, though, and I suspect the feeling was mutual."
Fletcher nodded thoughtfully. "I didn't like many people, or things, back then. You changed all that, you know."
"I changed it?" Fenris asked, tilting his head slightly. "How?"
"Both Bethany and Varric commented on it, that I started to change after meeting you. I think that's also part of the reason Mother likes you so much. She said one day that my eyes light up whenever I talk about you. It's true: I changed when you came along. For the better."
"I doubt I can take credit for that," said Fenris humbly. "Things were more complicated, then. Now, though…" He raised his head and Fletcher rested his forehead against Fenris's. "Now that I have come to care for you, things are simpler. I am ready. I want to be with you. I want to…see you, as I have seen you in my mind when I..."
"When you touch yourself?" Fletcher whispered, his head still resting against Fenris's, their lips barely millimetres apart.
"You…know about that?" uttered the elf.
Fletcher nodded, his breathing growing heavier. "Of course I do; you're a man. " He felt Fenris tense slightly, and slowly ran his hands up and down the elf's back. "I've also…you know. When thinking about you. It's nothing to be ashamed of. The thought of you touching yourself over me…my-my head is swimming just thinking about it."
"You are…aroused by it?" Fenris asked matter-of-factly.
"Maker, Fen, can't you tell?" he breathed, his voice unsteady.
"I was…not certain," Fenris said haltingly. "Nobody has ever…since my escape…there has been no one. I did not think that I would ever…again, with anyone else. And yet, with you, I cannot seem to... I cannot stop thinking about you. The other night…it…opened my eyes."
"There's nothing to be afraid of, Fen," said Fletcher softly, his hands trembling slightly as they moved to Fenris's face. "I know you wouldn't hurt me. You care about me too much. I know that."
"I am gratified by your faith in me," replied Fenris. "Although I feel less afraid, I must confess to a certain… anticipation. I feel it here," he placed his hand over his stomach, "over and over. It will not abate," he breathed huskily. "I have never before experienced such a sensation. Even when we…the other night, it was not as intense. And my heart is beating wildly. It feels as though it will leap from my chest."
Fletcher's breath rushed out of him as he felt something firm press against his leg, and his eyes closed involuntarily, knowing that Fenris must also be feeling his own need.
"Maker, Fen, I-I've never wanted anyone so badly," he whispered unsteadily, brushing his lips against the elf's. "I've never… I-I'm so in love with you, Fen. I want you so much. So much."
"Then let us waste no more time with talk," Fenris said in a soft growl, pressing himself against Fletcher.
"Are you sure about this?" asked Fletcher. "I want you to want this as much as I do."
"I want this." Fenris pushed Fletcher against the entrance wall and grabbed his face, pulling him close, hard, their lips crashing together. Dizzy and startled, Fletcher released a sharp gasp as Fenris sucked and bit at his lips, his hands going for the ties on Fletcher's robe.
"F-Fen… "
Panting hard, Fenris moved from Fletcher's lips and down to his neck, nipping with his teeth as he pulled Fletcher's robe up, exposing him; he wore neither undergarments nor breeches beneath.
Fletcher's mouth gaped in shock as the elf dropped to his knees. "Fen… h-hold on a minute…" This was everything Fletcher had dreamed of, and yet it was happening too fast. He did not want their first time to be like this.
"S-slow down, Fen," he urged, hissing as Fenris took him hungrily into his mouth. "Fen, please…" Fletcher's resolve started to crumble as Fenris expertly worked his aching member, and his hips bucked of their own accord, pushing himself deeper in. It felt wrong, somehow, but Fenris was clearly very experienced at this and knew exactly how to please another man.
Another man.
Fletcher's blood ran cold and he gently pushed Fenris away, taking a step back, his head spinning at the sudden withdrawal. He leaned against the wall, gasping, while Fenris, still on his knees, looked up at him.
"What is it?" Fenris demanded, anxiety in his voice.
"It-it's too fast," Fletcher panted.
"Am I not pleasing you?"
"What?" Fletcher straightened up and glanced down at the elf, who looked back at him with fear and doubt in his green eyes.
"Am I not pleasing you? Is this not what you wanted…"
…Master?
The word was unspoken, yet hung thickly in the air between them, and, for a brief and horrifying moment, Fletcher stood in Danarius's shoes, looking down not at the man he loved, but at his slave, whose only thought was how he could please the magister.
Fenris's eyes darkened and lowered, and he slowly rose, turning away from Fletcher, failure and defeat in his posture. "I-I am sorry," Fenris uttered, his voice thick and hushed. "I wanted to return the favour. What you did for me…I thought that was what you wanted. Again, I apologise."
"Fenris," Fletcher began, smoothing down his robe, mentally shaking himself.
"No, do not…" Fenris held up a hand that forbade Fletcher from moving nearer. "I-I think I should go." Despite his words, he didn't move, and Fletcher took a few cautious steps closer.
"Fenris, you haven't done anything wrong," he said in a gentle voice. "This is not supposed to be just about me; it's supposed to be about both of us."
"I have disappointed you," Fenris said, hanging his head.
"No you haven't," Fletcher said in a firmer tone, moving in front of Fenris. He gently clasped Fenris's chin, nudging it upwards, but Fenris would not meet his gaze, his eyes moving to the side. Seeing the sadness in them, Fletcher's heart clenched. "Is this the only way you know? Is this… "
"I was never allowed to take my own pleasure," Fenris whispered. "Sex was just a way to-to keep him off my back, to get through the next hour. While he was sated, he would leave me be. This is all I know." He shook his head. "I thought… I thought that was what I was supposed to do."
"Oh, Fen…" Tears sprang to Fletcher's eyes, and, for a second, raw, biting fury took hold of him, and he vowed once again to rain agony upon Danarius should they ever meet, but he took a deep breath and rested his hands on Fenris's cheeks, placing a tender kiss on his lips. "It's not about one person gratifying another. It's about two people who care for each other expressing their feelings for one other."
Fenris squirmed and released a heavy sigh. "I have only ever served. I do not know how to be part of a couple in this way."
"Then, this is your first time."
"I…suppose it is," Fenris conceded, venturing an uncertain glance at Fletcher. "Do you-do you wish to proceed?"
"More than anything, love," Fletcher comforted. "But only if you want to."
"I-I do," answered Fenris. "…More than anything. But I am… unsure."
Fletcher took Fenris's hands and laid them against his own chest, stroking them with his thumbs. "Let me show you," he offered soothingly, brushing his nose against the elf's. "Let me show you how to make love."
An unexpected flutter through Fenris's chest caused him to smile hesitantly. "I…" He nodded slowly and stroked Fletcher's hands in return. "I would…like that."
They stood silently for a moment, their breathing deepening, and Fletcher tilted his head, capturing Fenris's lips in such a tender and heartfelt kiss, a deep moan vibrated through Fenris's chest as a wave of yearning crested within him. Fletcher slowly and carefully withdrew and released one of Fenris's hands, holding tightly onto the other and leading him over to the fire.
"Let's make ourselves comfortable, Fen," he whispered.
Finding no words, Fenris nodded and the two men unfurled their bedrolls, placing them side by side next to the fire. Fletcher knelt down upon one and held his hand out to Fenris, who took it and sat down next to him. Fletcher removed his boots, placing them to the side, and turned to Fenris, laying one hand on his cuirass.
"May I?" Fletcher asked. "You'll be more comfortable."
Again, Fenris nodded mutely and, with Fletcher's help, loosened the ties of the cuirass and pulled it over his head. Fletcher then set it down next to his boots, along with Fenris's vambraces and pauldrons.
Fletcher reclined on an elbow and beckoned Fenris to lie next to him. Fenris did so, his halting movements betraying how nervous he was, and Fletcher knew this was something that couldn't be rushed.
"Let's just talk for a while, Fen," he suggested, and gently clasped one of Fenris's hands with his free one.
"What would you like to talk about?" asked Fenris, a little puzzled.
"Well, tell me what you like."
"You mean…?"
Fletcher nodded, and Fenris propped himself up on his elbows, taking a few minutes to process the question. "I…am unsure," he answered. "I have never given it much thought."
"Think about it now," Fletcher gently coaxed. "When you think about us together… what do I do? How do I touch you? Where? Is there anything you don't like?"
Fenris's face fell a little. "I…do not wish to be… penetrated," he stated in a whisper.
"I-I would never…"
"I… know. I should have known."
An awkward silence fell for a moment, and Fletcher gently stroked Fenris's hand. "Is there anything else you don't want me to do?" he asked.
Fenris nodded. "I would ask that you do not go behind me. I don't like that."
"Of course," Fletcher answered.
"Is there…?" Fenris turned toward Fletcher and mirrored his position, leaning on one elbow while his other hand held onto Fletcher's. "Is there anything that I should not do?"
"Nothing," Fletcher responded with a mischievous grin.
"Why am I not surprised?" asked Fenris with a hint of a smile, and Fletcher laughed softly, kissing the tip of Fenris's nose.
"Now, tell me," Fletcher prompted, releasing Fenris's hand and moving his hand up to stroke Fenris's hair. "When you think about me, how do I touch you? What do you like?"
Fenris edged a little closer and lowered his voice. "I like it when you do that…I mean, when you stroke my hair."
"What else?" whispered Fletcher, resting his head against Fenris's.
Fenris cleared his throat and released a shaky sigh as Fletcher's nails were gently drawn across his scalp and down the nape of his neck. "I-I can't," the elf sighed.
"You can, Fen. You're allowed to ask. You're allowed to tell me." Fenris closed his eyes, feeling Fletcher's warm breath against his cheek, and shivered as Fletcher slowly ran his hand down the front of Fenris's shirt, stopping to rest on his hip.
"I… I would like…" Fenris sighed and shook his head, years of conditioning preventing him from asking for anything that would benefit him or give him pleasure.
Fletcher's hand moved from Fenris's hip and went beneath his shirt, seeking out the warm, firm flesh of his abdomen, and slowly, torturously slowly, trailed upward, grazing a nipple before slowly working its way back down.
"Uh-" Fenris gasped and grabbed Fletcher's arm, a shuddering breath bursting from him, and he clutched at Fletcher, unfamiliar, intoxicating sensations pulsing through him. "Fletcher," he panted, his head falling back as Fletcher's lips brushed against his ear.
"Just tell me what you want," Fletcher susurrated, his moist, hot breath in Fenris's ear sending sharp jolts through his body, and he trembled as Fletcher tightly wrapped his arms around Fenris and tugged at the tip of his ear with his teeth. "Tell me."
"Fl…" Irrevocably lost, Fenris fell limp in Fletcher's arms and Fletcher lowered him to the ground, keeping one arm firmly wrapped around him, while with the other, he moved his hand beneath Fenris's shirt again and slowly pushed it up, exposing the elf's taut, hard abdomen.
"Tell me," he repeated, a soft growl beneath his dulcet words, his mouth hovering over Fenris's as his fingers explored every contour of the elf's sculpted belly.
"Fletcher…" Fenris's eyes opened and met Fletcher's, and they gazed at each other wordlessly for a long moment, their irregular breathing the only sound to be heard.
"Fletcher…" Fenris repeated.
"Tell me."
Fenris watched the reflected flames dance in Fletcher's brown eyes and his gaze roamed over the mage's pale skin, watched the bob of his adam's apple and moved downwards to the scant hairs that peeked over the neckline of his robe. He wanted that robe off. More than anything. He wanted to feel Fletcher's weight on him, for their bodies to come together, to feel Fletcher's skin against his own. He opened his mouth but still no words would come out.
"Tell me, Fen," pleaded Fletcher, a pained expression coming over him as he felt Fenris's hardness twitch against his thigh. He positioned himself between Fenris's legs, his hip pressing on the elf's groin, and Fenris squeezed his eyes shut; a moan, deep and clear and utterly wonderful, escaped and played music in Fletcher's ears.
"Fenris…that's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard," Fletcher groaned, his voice trembling, and, unable to hold back any longer, he seized Fenris's lips with his own, heat and want and need surging through him as Fenris's body undulated beneath him, the elf's hands grabbing at the back of his robe, tugging desperately at the fabric.
"T-take this off," Fenris rasped, breaking the kiss momentarily to catch his breath. "Fletcher…take it off, please."
"That's what you want?" Fletcher panted.
"Y-yes!" Fenris moved his hands to Fletcher's front, fumbling with the cords. A grunt of frustration was heard and Fletcher began to assist, deftly undoing the ties, and one side of his robe fell open, revealing a long, thin shirt. Fenris's eyes wandered down to Fletcher's stocky legs, so robust-looking, and a wholly new sensation originated deep in the pit of his stomach and spiralled outward, filling his core with a deep, exigent need.
"I want you," Fenris gasped and snaked his hands inside Fletcher's shirt, his mouth seeking out the mage's lips and Fletcher hungrily met him, his own hands running up Fenris's slender arms, and, as he lay on his back, indicating that Fenris was now in control, the elf did not relinquish his mouth and Fletcher was forced to gently push him away, gasping and moaning when his lungs felt ready to burst.
Fenris braced his hands on Fletcher's shoulders and pushed himself up to kneel between Fletcher's legs. He then moved his hands to the hem of his shirt and paused, his eyes fixed upon the panting Fletcher's.
"This is what I want," he said in a clear, unwavering voice.
Fletcher nodded, blinking away the sudden blurring of his vision, and he smiled blissfully and proudly, moving his hands to Fenris's and stroking them.
"Fen…do you know that I accept everything that you are and have ever been, and that I will never let you down? Do you believe that?"
"I…believe that," Fenris answered, a gentle light in his eyes. "And do you believe that I also accept you and that I will never let you down; nor will I ever leave your side, as long as I draw breath?"
Fletcher nodded slowly and ran his hands up and down Fenris's arms. "Do you believe that I love you, Fen?"
Fenris exhaled unsteadily and his eyes lowered. "I-I do," he answered roughly, and, although he longed to reciprocate, the words refused to leave his mouth, for deep inside, the part of him that remained forever fettered to Tevinter warned him that this happiness could never last.
His eyes moved to Fletcher's, finding no expectancy in the mage's brown eyes; no compulsion or influence in his steady gaze. Instead, there was unspoken acceptance, quiet understanding.
His eyes never leaving Fletcher's, he once again moved his hands to the hem of his shirt and slowly pulled it up and over his head, hearing a quiet exclamation from Fletcher while his sight was temporarily obscured. Having removed it, he placed the shirt on the ground and took Fletcher's hands, allowing the mage time to take in the sight before him.
Against Fenris's bronzed skin was etched an intricate network of ghostly silver filigree, lent a coppery hue by the flickering firelight. It vestured his upper body in its entirety and appeared to extend beyond the covering of his breeches. Fletcher's mouth fell slightly open and his eyes, wide with apprehension, roamed over the exquisite and monstrous legacy of Danarius.
"Do not be afraid," Fenris said, quiet and low. "You will not cause me pain by touching me, nor will you feel pain from doing so."
"I know you'd never hurt me," Fletcher stated again, pushing himself up to a sitting position, and he shrugged off his robe, assisted by Fenris, who knelt between his legs, gazing lovingly at the mage at all times, still unable to say the words he longed to. Together, they lifted Fletcher's shirt over his head and it was carelessly discarded. Fletcher wore nothing else beneath his robe and Fenris smiled softly, a hint of coquettishness in his eyes as they feasted on Fletcher's body.
Slowly, Fenris's eyes travelled back to meet Fletcher's, the hunger in them undeniable, and yet Fletcher reined himself in, giving Fenris complete control; something that Fenris realised and appreciated greatly.
"You are very handsome," Fenris articulated, his voice husky. Fletcher bit his bottom lip, moving his hands to Fenris's chest, but the elf evaded his touch and pushed himself up, taking a step back. His hands went to the laces on his breeches, and he slowly undid them, pushing them down and letting them fall, where he gracefully stepped out of them, standing proudly, completely unashamed of his nakedness.
Fletcher held his hands out to the elf, watching, awe-struck, as each perfectly-formed sinew and muscle moved with a fluid and lissom elegance with each tiny movement Fenris made. As Fenris stepped closer, Fletcher's hands came to rest on Fenris's svelte hips, his thumbs brushing lightly over the hard knobs of his pelvic bone. Fletcher's eyes travelled down sculpted, lean, yet powerful thighs, following the silver whorls and ridges that continued all the way down to Fenris's feet.
Gently, Fletcher applied downward pressure to Fenris's hips and the elf bent his knees, coming to sit astride the mage, their members brushing together, and Fenris wrapped his legs around Fletcher's back. Fletcher brought his hands round to Fenris's back, his fingers running up the nodes of his spine, and Fenris splayed his hands across Fletcher's chest as their foreheads came to rest together.
"And you're beautiful," Fletcher said thickly, snaking his arms tightly around Fenris's back, pulling the elf close. A shudder ran through both of them as their erections pressed together and Fletcher's breathing quickened, while Fenris attempted to steady his.
"I love you, Fen," Fletcher breathed, softly brushing his lower lip against Fenris's.
"I-I know," Fenris wavered, feeling light-headed and giddy while heat rose inside him like a phoenix from the ashes of his self-doubt, mistrust and bitterness; the ruins of his former life.
"Tell me what to do," Fletcher whispered against Fenris's mouth. "You're in charge, Fen; I'll do whatever you want. Anything for you."
"Uh…" Fenris released an involuntary moan, Fletcher's words and love as powerful a force as any he'd ever encountered, caressing and enveloping him, making him feel worthy, cherished…whole.
"Touch me," he whispered back, softly nipping at Fletcher's lips, a faint growl underscoring his words. Fenris reached behind himself and took one of Fletcher's hands, guiding it down to his cock, and their eyes locked together as Fenris stilled his hand. "I want you to touch me," he moaned, his eyes closing as Fletcher's hand encircled him, and he gasped, throwing his head back in abandon.
With his other hand, Fletcher clasped the back of Fenris's head and brought his lips to the elf's throat, gently sucking his taut, warm flesh, taking great care not to touch his markings. Fenris's entire body trembled and his fingers dug into Fletcher's shoulders, another shuddering moan leaving his lips.
Fletcher then opened his hand wide and took both his and Fenris's members, gripping them firmly, and Fenris again wantonly threw his head back, crying aloud as his hardness rubbed against Fletcher's. Emboldened, Fenris moved his own hand down, enmeshing his fingers in Fletcher's.
"Oh, Fen…" gasped the mage, who braced one hand on Fenris's shoulder, and the elf did the same. They began to rock back and forth, their other hands kneading, pulling and squeezing together as they rubbed against each other. Their breathing became more strident and laboured as each man approached his climax and their kisses more urgent, halting only when they reached their shattering release, almost simultaneously.
Their bodies slumped and they clung to each other, each propping the other up, and they sat, just holding each other, until their breathing had returned to normal.
Gently and wordlessly, Fletcher helped Fenris to climb off him. Reaching for his pack, Fletcher moistened a cloth with some rose water from a vial and tenderly cleaned Fenris's hands and lower regions with it, before the elf returned the favour.
Fenris then took Fletcher's hands and allowed himself to be guided to the mage's side, where they laid down together, bringing their hands up to the other's face. Fletcher moved one of his legs over Fenris's, and the elf slid his own leg between Fletcher's, and they lay entwined, gazing into each other's eyes.
"Love you," Fletcher mumbled drowsily as his eyes fluttered closed.
Only when Fletcher had drifted off to sleep, and when Fenris had made absolutely certain that he was asleep, did the elf find his voice. After watching Fletcher in repose for a while, he reached for the mage's robe and covered them both with it. He then told Fletcher everything: every single word he'd wanted so desperately to say, but had not felt able to. Lying back down and closing his eyes, he made a vow that one day he would tell Fletcher to his face; that he would reciprocate the mage's own words of love; that he would say exactly what he felt.
That Fletcher was everything to him.