Hawke didn't need to be told twice. He threw himself onto his back and shoved the breeches down far enough he could kick them off. His smalls went the same way. Fenris shrugged out of the tunic, crawled over to the battered nightstand beside his bed, and pulled out the top drawer.

The sight of him sitting there, naked and with his back curved forward, the lines of lyrium accenting every muscle and curve of his body from his ass to his neck, was enough to knock the breath out of Hawke's lungs. So was the fact he knew precisely what Fenris was fetching, even before he heard the slosh of oil against glass.

Unexpectedly, doubt flooded him.

He pushed up on an elbow and wet his lips. Maker knew he wanted to, he absolutely did, but what he wanted more was to not fuck this up.

"We don't have to."

Fenris looked up from popping the cork open. "Hmm?"

"If you're not— I don't want you to push yourself. What we've done already, is..." The sight of Fenris dipping his fingers into the bottle, one by one, without breaking eye-contact made Hawke stumble over his words. "...is, uh, it's enough."

Fenris smirked, put the bottle aside, and shoved Hawke down on the bed with his left hand. "Not for me."

"Oh." A shiver of excitement went through him. He grabbed one of the pillows and pushed it under himself to raise his hips and make it easier. "Are you cer—"

"Yes."

"I'm only..." He drew in a sharp breath as Fenris touched his inner thigh and coaxed his legs apart. Hawke barely managed to make himself comfortable before Fenris' slick fingertip prodded at him. "...making sure."

"As many times as I have imagined this, my memory ought to have come back tenfold."

"That often?"

It occurred to Hawke, dimly, that Fenris must have had plans. He'd obtained the oil, after all, and placed it where it'd be close at hand. He wanted this. Wanted Hawke.

Despite his need, Fenris did not rush. He applied slight pressure and rubbed his finger in a small circle, around and around, to get Hawke used to the sensation and ease his way.

"Nearly every night, Hawke."

"It's about time, then."

He gasped out loud when that lone finger breached him. It didn't burn, not yet, but he could tell his body had its reservations. So could Fenris.

"You are very tight."

Hawke clenched his eyes shut. He wasn't entirely successful at keeping the reproach out of his voice. "It's been a while."

"I know." Fenris hummed softly and scooted down some more. Hawke suspected Fenris took a measure of pride in the fact he hadn't gone to anyone else, even after Fenris left him. "Let me help you."

There wasn't enough time for Hawke to speculate what he meant. One moment his whole world centered around the slippery finger moving inside him, the next it was eclipsed wholly by the hot mouth that enveloped his cock.

This was new. Hawke hadn't been sure it was something Fenris even wanted to do. He'd fantasized, sure, but his imagination had fallen woefully short of reality; Fenris sucked on him like there was a prize to be had, like he was starved and Hawke the only source of nourishment.

He'd been hard already, but when he looked down just as Fenris lifted his head and met his gaze, his upper lip stretched thin around the head of Hawke's cock, he felt himself swell impossibly more. Which didn't help matters. Fenris let go with a wet sound and held him in hand while his thumb caressed idly. He frowned.

"You are bigger than I remember."

"I'm sorry."

Fenris shot him a chastising look. "There are certain things you do not need to apologise for, Hawke."

"If it's difficult for you—"

He was ignored. Fenris moved on the bed, trying for a better angle, and swallowed him up again without hesitation. His mouth was hot, so hot, and he'd lost none of his hunger.

Hawke wondered if it was possible for his mind to melt and leak out his ears. It felt like it was. He moaned, much louder than Fenris had done, and an eternity passed in a blissful haze before he realised there were two fingers inside him now. When Fenris slipped a third in, the burn began. He shifted on the pillow, trying his best not to push up and into Fenris' mouth, while still adjusting their position for comfort. Fenris noticed and released him again.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Hawke looked up at him through half-shut eyes and nodded for emphasis. "I'll be fine."

Fenris accepted his reassurance, but didn't return to his cock. Instead he watched Hawke's face closely and concentrated on the task at hand. Hawke considered asking him to continue, but decided against it. He wanted this to last. If he spent any more time in Fenris' mouth that was off the table.

As soon as his fingers were able to move freely, Fenris sat back and started to stretch Hawke wider. The burning sensation returned and Hawke hissed softly.

"Too much?"

"No. Just a passing twinge. Keep going."

"I do not like to see you in pain."

"It'll be worth it. And it's getting easier already."

It was. His body opened up, unlocked by Fenris' skilled hands, by his mouth, and the desire for something bigger to fill him took over.

"There, that's enough."

Fenris shook his head. "A little more."

"It's fine, Fen, I'm ready."

"I am not that small."

Hawke was about to agree when he thought better of it. He smiled. "Show me."

"You are insufferable." Fenris looked up to briefly glare at Hawke. "Was I not in your mouth no more than half an hour ago? You know perfectly well."

He groaned and some of his frustration came through in his words. "Maybe. But I'm empty and aching and ready for you. And you're stalling."

Fenris relented. He withdrew his fingers, wiped them on his cock, and added some more oil for good measure. Once satisfied, he moved up over Hawke's body and covered it with his own.

"Hawke?"

"Yes?"

"I need to... Before we..." Fenris swallowed and adjusted his knees. "I should not have left like that last—"

"No. Fuck you, you absolute bastard. We are not having this conversation now." He stared up at Fenris, caught between anger and disbelief, and found his hips with both hands, in case he got any bright ideas about pulling away. "Fuck me."

"Hawke—"

"No. Fuck me." His voice softened some, and his fingers dug into Fenris' flesh where it was safe, away from the lyrium. "Please. Not now. I need you."

The very same words Fenris had spoken to Hawke, a thousand years ago. Fenris stared at him with dark eyes. Hawke held his breath. Then Fenris nodded, once, and reached down between them.

"If you will not let me say it, then..." He moved his hips in Hawke's grasp, positioning himself. Familiar fingers held him open and he was invaded, taken, conquered. The rest of Fenris' sentence competed with his own moan. "...let me show you."

"Yes."

It had never felt this good. Even last time, when Hawke thought he couldn't possibly want it more, paled in comparison. He was whole. Complete. There had been no resistance, his body welcomed every inch Fenris had to offer, and it was glorious.

Except for one thing. One very vital thing.

Fenris wasn't moving.

He peered down at Hawke, anxious for any signs of discomfort. Tenderly, he brushed away a strand of hair that had stuck to the sweat on Hawke's forehead. Maybe he knew how to be gentle after all. Maybe he was picking it up as he went along.

Hawke nuzzled into his hand and Fenris responded with a small, shy smile. In his eyes Hawke saw the love he'd learned to read in gestures and hear in completely different words.

There was no ambiguity anymore. This was what he wanted to show Hawke.

Fenris loved him.

Unable to speak, his throat thick with emotion, Hawke whimpered softly and tugged on Fenris' hips in a silent plea. It made his body rock against Hawke's, and that tiny movement alone was enough to make him groan and throw his head back. Distantly, almost drowned out by his own noise, he thought he could hear Fenris moan, too.

"Oh, you feel so good."

"Is it— Can I—?" Fenris voice was strained with the effort of holding back.

"Fuck me, Fen."

He let out a ragged breath and rocked against Hawke twice more. Finally, he pulled back and thrust. For a precious moment, Hawke swore he understood religion. He stretched out under Fenris and gave himself up to the pleasure as he began to move in earnest.

It was an old bed. Fenris had neglected to do any maintenance on it, and it squeaked merrily when he picked up speed.

Hawke didn't care. He wouldn't care if the walls of the mansion came down around them, provided Fenris would keep fucking him. "Yes."

Gentle had come and gone. Fenris dug his fingers into the flesh of Hawke's hip hard enough to leave bruises, but it kept him from sliding away on the slippery sheets. His other hand found Hawke's shoulder, and he'd have little crescent marks there, too, from Fenris' short nails. He'd wear them with pride.

His own ran up and down Fenris' back, scraping the skin and leaving thin, red lines in their wake between the lyrium. He wanted to grab his ass and help crash their bodies together, but he couldn't reach. If he could lift up he would've been able to, but Fenris' hand prevented him from doing so. Hawke found he rather enjoyed being held down and fucked hard. He'd liked it when Fenris bent him over the desk, too.

Fenris made Hawke learn new things about himself.

"Fen... Fuck." He shuddered. The pressure had already begun to build at the base of his spine. "Harder."

Fenris had no objections. He slammed into Hawke hard enough to make the bed creak. He also changed his grip on Hawke's hip and lifted him up another inch or two. It made all the difference. Hawke cried out in surprise, but moans quickly followed.

"Yes, yes, right there. Fuck yes."

If Fenris could not bring himself to voice his pleasure, Hawke would speak for the both of them. Loudly.

"You're so— Oh." His hands skated along Fenris' back, gliding on a layer of sweat. He could feel all of his muscles hard at work, and underneath them, the building tension. "You're so good. Fuck, so good to me. And you feel so fucking good."

Hawke was babbling, but he didn't care. His stomach was taut and trembled with the effort of delaying the inevitable. He'd lost track of where his hands were, and the words that fell from his mouth were no longer coherent. All he was aware of, all that mattered, was Fenris moving over him and in him.

When Hawke finally unravelled the force of his release overwhelmed him. His vision went white. For a while he existed in a state of pure, suspended bliss as he writhed on the bed and spilled on his own stomach, again and again, accompanied by a loud, drawn-out moan.

It seemed to go on forever before the fog cleared, but he couldn't have lost too much time. Fenris was still fucking him. His rhythm had gone erratic and he struggled for breath. Hawke blinked to clear his eyes just as the lyrium lit with blue-white light all around him. Awed, he watched the pleasure break on Fenris' face and heard his shuddered gasp.

As he slowly came down from his peak, Fenris' arms began to tremble with the strain of holding himself up. Hawke saw and pulled him down to lie flush against him. They lay panting in each other's arms, their bodies slick and hot and completely melted together.

For a while, no words were spoken. They shared the silence of the aftermath while they cooled. Eventually, when it began to be a little too cold, Hawke nudged Fenris' side. He slid out and off, pulled the covers up over them, and settled back down with his head on Hawke's shoulder.

"The rate at which your vocabulary deteriorates when I am fucking you is remarkable."

Hawke peered at Fenris' face. "There's that smug look again."

"Have I not earned it?"

"And you say I'm insufferable." He hid a smile against silky, white hair. "Yes, you have."

Hawke didn't know how long he'd slept when he woke with a start. The fire had gone out. The last he remembered they'd been curled up close, but now Fenris' warmth had gone. He was no longer beside Hawke in the bed.

No. Not again.

His heart shot up into his throat and he sat up, frantic. After blinking a couple of time, he saw Fenris on the mattress' edge, bent forward and pulling on his clothes.

Hawke grabbed Fenris' forearm in a grip so tight it would surely leave bruises.

"Ow, Hawke!" Fenris glared him, leggings around his knees, but when he saw Hawke's panicked face his annoyance changed to alarm. "What's wrong?"

"Don't leave me. I can't— Not again."

Fenris looked away and shook his head with a muttered curse. When he turned back to Hawke he moved closer and reached out to cup the side of Hawke's face with a warm hand. The scent of lyrium, of Fenris, filled his nostrils and soothed him.

"I am not leaving, Hawke; I promised you I would not. Besides, this is my mansion, where would I go? I just need to relieve myself."

Hawke didn't let go. "Will you swear?" And he added, softly, pleading: "Please? Humor me."

Fenris sighed, but peeled Hawke's hand off his arm and clasped it over his heart to mimic the sanctity of a vow. "Garrett Hawke, I swear to you, I am not leaving. I will only go as far as the bathing chamber and I will return right away." He paused. "And if you do not let me go, I will pee on you."

The relief that flooded Hawke made him sag back against the pillows. "Kinky. But not the kind I'm into."

"Good." Fenris pulled his leggings up the rest of the way and headed for the door. Either he never bothered with a shirt when he went on nightly errands, or he left it off to further reassure Hawke he wouldn't run. "I would be forced to reconsider our relationship otherwise."

Our relationship.

Our relationship.

The bed smelled of sex and faintly of lyrium. The whole room probably did. Hawke adjusted the pillow and stared up at the ceiling. They hadn't had the talk yet. There were still plenty of things left to work out. Boundaries would need to be negotiated. One of them would eventually have to yield on the matter of where Fenris lived, and Hawke feared it'd be him. But they weren't in a hurry.

As far as Hawke was concerned, Fenris could take all the time he needed. He knew now that Fenris loved him, even if he hadn't yet mustered the courage to say the words out loud. And perhaps, with their more immediate needs seen to, the rest would get easier.

Fenris wasn't gone long, but by the time he returned Hawke was half asleep all the same, his worries soothed.

"Hawke?"

"Hmm?"

"If you ready a room…" Fenris crawled under the covers and reclaimed his spot on Hawke's shoulder. "I will stay there sometimes."

You have to let me be free.

Hawke smiled and closed his eyes. "I'll take it."

end.