Warnings: Major sexual content, minor spoilers for Dragon Age 2
Summary: Fenris is haunted by his past and the relationship he left broken. When he sees Anders moving in on his quarry, will Fenris rethink his ways? Fenris/Male Hawke.
A/N: Thanks for reading. Review please.
They were standing at opposite ends of the room and how fitting that was—always on opposite sides, the mage and the slave who hated them. Hawke was being drowned in praise, covered in the blood of the qunari people. The wounds were extensive and fresh on his arms and neck and back. They were the type of burns one received from serebaas, the type of gashes one got when fighting a powerful Arishok. None of the nobles seemed mindful of the injuries as they clapped him on the back; no one cared that he was mage anymore.
Fenris was the only one that still seemed to mind. His eyes flickered to the red ribbon tied around his wrist and away again. Memories of heated fingers trailed across his skin, sending a shiver up his spine, but it lasted only a second. Now was not the time for such thoughts.
Aveline put her arm around the Champion's waist to keep him from collapsing. Nobles untrained in combat wouldn't notice the shuffle of exhaustion in Hawke's walk or the way he held his fractured arm close. Casually and with subtlety, Anders's fingers brushed the champion's arm and sent magic across his skin. Fenris could smell it in the air, crackling like electricity on his tongue. The feeling was palpable after Hawke's fight with the Arishok. Fenris shook his head as the vision of the mage ducking away from the wrath of the huge qunari. He would never have thought that a single mage could beat a creature of such brutal instinct and strength. He'd almost thrown himself into the fray when he'd heard Hawke's arm crack.
Aveline called to him, and Fenris woke himself out of his thoughts, letting his crossed arms fall as he trailed behind them and out of the room. Before exiting, he paused and glanced back. Behind the seething mass of cheering nobles, Meredith stood outlined in her dark armor against the cool stone of the throne room. In her hand was the silver crown, splattered with blood and gore. The severed head of the viscount was at her feet. Fenris watched as she let a small, malicious smile twist her mouth before turning away and catching up to his entourage.
The mage came out worse for wear than Fenris had imagined. Back at Hawke's estate, Anders examined him thoroughly, healing three broken ribs, a fractured arm, and the various burns and cuts that adorned his abdomen. The gash in his shoulder where the Arishok's rather dull axe had come down with full force took longer to tend to, and Anders had to consume a lyrium potion. He ended up bandaging it as well when it was no longer spilling blood and revealing bone.
Hawke was sitting in his red chair, shirt off with his arm on the arm rest. Anders was trailing fingertips over the burns on the soft flesh of his forearm. Fenris leaned against the fireplace where the warmth of the flames soothed his aching muscle and dried his hair, still damp from his bath. Aveline had long since retired to her own home to be with her husband. Bodahn snored softly in his room with Sandal. Even the dog had given up and fallen asleep at Fenris's heels.
"Right," Anders said, the blue glow from his hand fading. "The superficial wounds will have to just heal on their own. I think you'll have to take off your pants for me to get a good view of the damage to your leg." He stood up and backed away so Hawke could get to his feet. "Depending on whether or not it's damaged too badly, you may have to stay off it for a while."
"It's not as though I'd hate a vacation," Hawke smiled as he unbuttoned his trousers, "but let's hope you can fix most of it." He folded his pants and let them fall to the ground. Fenris saw Orana flinch in the corner. Skittish girl.
Sitting down again, Hawke angled his leg just right in the light of the fire to make Fenris's stomach clench. Blood was caked to a wound about the size of a dagger that stretched all the way up from his ankle to the middle of his knee. No bone was showing, but he was in danger of losing a lot of blood. Anders knelt down and gently moved the leg this way and that.
"I can heal most of it, but it'll be tender," he informed Hawke. "You should probably favor your left side for a while."
"Or not do any fighting at all," Fenris offered. Anders seemed startled at the sound of his voice and glanced at him as if just realizing he was there. Clearing his throat, the mage's fingers brushed Hawke's inner calf.
"It'd be best if we could clean up most of the blood so I can get a better look," he informed Hawke, glancing up at him. Hawke nodded.
"Orana, could you please bring some water and cloth?" he called to her, leaning forward a bit to see around Fenris.
"Yes, Master," she squeaked and hurried off to fulfill the request. Hawke sat back, his startling blue eyes like gems in the firelight. And Isabela said that elves had beautiful eyes...
"Thanks for doing this, Anders," Hawke said sincerely to the mage, even touching the fingers that rested on his knee. Fenris felt his eyes widen involuntarily. "I would heal myself, but I don't have as much experience as you. Not to mention I'm exhausted."
"After today, who wouldn't be?" Anders frowned but then smiled. "Don't worry about it." Leaning back a little, he began examining the gash again. Hawke had few other scratches. A blue light enveloped Anders's fingers, the hand skimming up Hawke's skin, nearly caressing. "Move your leg out," the mage ordered, thumb sliding behind the crook of Hawke's knee. He did as he was told, spreading his legs wider and moving forward a bit.
Fenris swallowed and glanced away at the burning jealousy in his gut. He felt the emotion and recognized it for what it was, but he beat it back.
Orana came with the water and left it beside the two of them, bowing her head. "Anything else you would like, Master?"
"No," Hawke answered with a smile. "Thank you, Orana, but you should get some sleep. It's late." With a small smile and a bow, she moved away with all the grace and silence of one who knew how to keep invisible. Anders pulled the bucket closer and took the cloth to wet it. Wringing it out, he gently wiped away the blood on Hawke's calf until the cut was revealed.
It was not so horrible without the gore splattered across it. Deep and wide, it wasn't quite as long as Fenris had feared—thought. Anders managed to heal it in just a few minutes of concentration. Then he stood up, and there was a noticeable sag in his shoulders. Fenris stood straighter, on guard.
"I think that's all I can do for tonight, Hawke. I'm worn out," Anders admitted with a half-smile. Getting to his feet, Hawke stuck out his hand, and they shook.
"You've done more than enough, Anders," Hawke assured him. Always the kind one, always the grateful leader. "Go home and rest. I'll manage."
"Watch yourself next time," Anders replied, grabbing his staff and exiting the room. Hawke let his shoulder sag for a moment as well when the other mage left. Then he grabbed his pants from the ground and tossed them over the bucket, kicking it into the corner with his foot. On his way over to his dresser full of pressed clothes, Fenris seemed all of a sudden very out of place. By the time Hawke was pulling his pants up over his hips, Fenris was already turning to go.
"Wanted to make sure I was okay?" Hawke called after him knowingly, and Fenris stopped. He wanted to turn around and say something cruel, something out of line. Instead, he stopped and glanced up at the ceiling with his mouth shut. It was his fault for staying. He should have gone home when the sun set like all the others. "You don't have to take off, Fenris. You can stay for a while."
"I've already overstayed my welcome," he replied.
"Impossible," Hawke told him, buttoning his trousers. Fenris turned the upper half of his body around, taking in the sight of the human over his shoulder. His eyes lingered on the trim waist, and the memories of their singular night together ghosted over his skin again. He clenched his fist and let the hair fall over his face, angry at himself. They had shared that night of passion together, experienced it when their rivalry exploded into something new and foreign and absolutely wonderful. Yet it seemed sometimes that Fenris was the only one truly affected by it. The memories of Hawke were the only good ones he had left. It made it hard to push them out of his mind.
When he turned around again, Hawke was running a hand through his black hair, mussing it up the way he normally did. Fenris closed his eyes and focused on the warmth of the room instead of the steady stream of magic buzzing over his skin. "Orana calls you master," he said sourly to keep his mind off it. Suddenly the ribbon on his wrist was much heavier.
"A hard habit to break, I'm afraid," Hawke admitted. "I try to remind her as often as I can that she's a servant now and not a slave, but it's difficult. I've been teaching her how to read in my spare time. Bodahn's been showing her how to manage her money."
Fenris smirked at that. "Would that you had been my master, Hawke. My life would have been much more pleasant."
"Would that I had been," Hawke murmured quietly, staring him straight in the eye. After a slight pause, he smiled. "Though I think I would leave the Imperium before entering into the politics of the magisters."
"Yes," Fenris agreed, glancing away from the intensity of Hawke's gaze. "You are not one for blood magic or slavery. A rare mage indeed."
"Rare," Hawke chuckled a bit forlornly, glancing at his wounded arm. Fenris found himself gravitating closer to the heat of the fire, crossing his arms as he often did. His lyrium tattoos glowed faintly in the dim light like a firefly.
"Did you hear them?" the elf asked distractedly, keeping his gaze leveled at the burning flames. "They call you Champion now."
Hawke shrugged his shoulders. "I am an apostate, and that's all I'll ever be. Killing an Arishok won't change that. If Knight-Commander Meredith has anything to say about it, I'll be in the Gallows by morning." He sounded as if he believed it, and Fenris felt anger settle in his stomach at the thought. His blood boiled. The sound of a bed settling caught his attention, and he glanced over to see Hawke sinking down on his mattress with his head in his hands. "I'm sorry. I'm tired."
"No need," Fenris ducked his head and let his arms fall. "I'll see myself out."
"Fenris, wait," Hawke said, standing up. He seemed surprised that the elf would listen to him but recovered quickly. He approached with careful footsteps. Fenris could see the human trying not to limp and favoring the healthy side as he kept his eyes on Hawke's feet. The fire crackled to fill the silence. For some reason he couldn't fathom, Fenris's heart kicked up a notch. The flames were reflected in Hawke's icy blue eyes when he met them, the human so close he could smell the blood and the magic clinging to his skin. "You don't have to leave."
"I can't," Fenris confessed again, echoing the same words he had said nearly a month ago. "Don't ask me to." He could hear the pain in his own voice, but he couldn't rein it in. Maker, how he wanted to. His skin burned already with the thought of Hawke's strong hands touching him, his heart beating quicker than it ever had in battle.
Hawke showed his kindness again when he said, "I'm not asking you to do anything, Fenris, besides stay with me here. I won't touch you." Honest words that Danarius would never have said—words containing feeling he hadn't thought a mage capable of. He clenched his fist and felt his tattoos come alive with fire. Hawke didn't flinch, and maybe that was why Fenris had chosen him. When he had pushed Hawke against the wall that night, and Hawke had met his eyes with a brave challenge, something in him had snapped.
"What if I wanted you to?" he whispered. And he did. There was nothing more haunting than Hawke's touch, not his past, not Danarius, not his missing sister. It wasn't those things that he laid awake at night thinking about anymore.
Hawke lifted his hand tentatively, guardedly, and Fenris could hardly blame him. A thumb came to rest on his cheekbone, caressing. Fenris melted, leaning into the touch. Hawke's other hand gripped the elf's fingers, bringing them up to lay a gentle kiss against his knuckles. A shiver shook him, and Fenris pulled away to link his arms around Hawke's neck and crash their mouths together. The same passion, the same hunger, the same desperation all came back in a wave of desire that matched the singular feeling of kissing Hawke for the first time. He nearly moaned at the rush, sharp teeth sinking into Hawke's gentle lips. He tasted of blood and battle and magic, all familiar aspects of his life if poisonous, and Fenris was already drowning.
Large hands gripped his sides and pulled him up when Fenris locked his legs around the human's waist. His back slammed against the wall, and he grunted as their teeth knocked together. Hawke left his mouth and kissed his neck, lapping at the lines on his throat and chin. Fenris buried his long, elven fingers in the human's hair. Keeping him balanced by using the wall and one of his hands, Hawke began to bunch up his shirt, ducking his head to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses against his taut stomach. They seared his flesh, making him arch his back.
That was when the first vision came. It was nothing more than a flicker, a momentary flash of the past that knocked the wind from his lungs with its intensity. Before, it had all come in a rush, too much information too fast. He had been able to hide it, but this vision made him pause.
Rubies glittered at her throat, long fingertips simply made for music sliding up the side of his face, caressing, exploring. She stooped low to stare him in the face. Her nose was long and crooked, a wide mouth smeared with paint to make it blood red. Her eyes were made of gold with flecks of blue in them. Her voice was like a shrieking owl. "He'll do."
"Hawke," Fenris groaned, fingers reacting quickly to catch the human's hand before it could slide down his trousers. The elf's fingernails cut into Hawke's skin.
"Fenris, are you all right?" Hawke demanded worriedly, stopping immediately though slightly out of breath.
"No, I…" he didn't know. The dizziness that accompanied the vision left him staggering. Hawke helped him slide to the ground, and worriedly cupped his cheek, own desire forgotten. Fenris pushed the hand away and covered his eyes. It was fading. All of it was fading again, and the pain of the loss settled in the back of his throat. His vision cleared, and he glanced up into worried eyes. Embarrassment flooded through him, thicker than want. "I must…I must go." He shoved Hawke away and took to the stairs.
"Fenris!" Hawke called after him, but he ignored it. For the first time since they had met, he ignored what Hawke had to say and ran full hilt back to his home. His weapon was forgotten at the estate, still resting in the corner. One of his gloves was missing. He burst into the front door and seized one of the broken plants to throw at the wall with such force that it exploded into a thousand tiny bits of shrapnel, joining the rubble still adorning his mansion. He began to pace. The anger burning in his blood was too consuming. To think that Danarius had the power to interfere with even the most personal part of his heart! To think that the magister's reach was so far!
He marched up to the bookcase standing upright in the middle of his room and slammed his foot into it. It shuddered and crashed to the ground in a plume of dust, books tumbling everywhere. Hand darting out, he snatched one of the books from the ground and hurled it into the cold ashes of the fire. The soot scattered across the stones. Turning around, he shoved his chair end over end across the room until it crashed heavily against the other bookcases and made them creak, spilling the rest of his vast collection of books. Only when he was breathless and had ruined everything within reach did he pause and slide to the ground in defeat. Destroying his home would not give him peace.
Reaching out, he grabbed a piece of rubble in his hand and squeezed hard enough to draw blood in his palm. His knuckles turned white, and he ducked his head. Hawke was…the only thing left that caused him happiness. His sister—if she did in fact exist at all—was beyond his reach, a trap that he could not survive alone. The life of a slave was hardly full of joy. Why did the only thing he wanted have to be impossible? Hawke's searching fingers haunted his dreams. His heated kisses woke him at night. The desire did not fade with time but only became worse. And his feelings were just as tormenting as the touch is body lusted for. Rightfully so. After all, when had he last trusted a person enough for such a thing?
Hawke was the kindest person he had ever met, fierce in his judgment of criminals but merciful enough where it counted. He helped strangers and protected his friends. He had held his dying mother in his arms and whispered sweet words to her while covered in blood and caressing her stitched body. He had allowed his brother to walk out of his door to be a Templar, sworn enemy of the mages because it was what Carver had wanted. Despite his own aching heart, he had helped Aveline find a husband. And he had let Fenris go without a fight because Fenris had needed to leave.
There was no one kinder, no one more worthy of love.
Fenris chucked the stone at the door, and it bounced off and to the ground with a clatter. Why had he run? He didn't know anymore. The memories were not really painful. It was the thought and the feeling of losing them all again that hurt. They came back with a vengeance, and all of a sudden he was more than a slave. He had reason to be more than a slave. But when they faded, he was just Danarius's property again. That feeling was too much to bear.
He cared for Hawke, that much was true. Fenris climbed to his feet and began straightening up the room with a sigh. Moving the chair back to its place by the fire, he gathered up all the books and put them away. He picked up the bookcase and replaced all of its fallen items. The glass plate that Varric had given him was broken. It did not cause him great pain, but he was ashamed at himself for having lost his temper so badly.
Slinking down the stairs with the heel of his palm on the banister, he paused at the edge, looking out over the mansion ballroom. Cleaning had seemed a meaningless thing to do. He had no reason for he was not staying. Besides that, he only used the bathroom and the bedroom. The rest of the house was buried in rubble and dust and blood. Danarius had left little behind but bad memories and the tang of magic. Thanks to Hawke, he did not mind the pull of the Fade quite so much.
His hand tightened on the railing as another thought came unbidden to him. Anders's face flashed before his mind's eye as he kneeled before Hawke, a faithful servant. Oh, and how the elf's chest ached and burned with jealousy at the thought of Anders being on the receiving end of Hawke's affection! How his fingers twitched for a weapon at the thought of Anders seducing him. It was painful, and the hatred that bubbled up was more palpable than anything he had ever felt.
Fenris blew out a breath to get a hold on himself and glanced down at his stomach where his armored shirt still rode up a little. When he had bathed after the battle in Hawke's own home, he had left the outer armor in the bathroom. Smiling to himself, he realized then just how trusting he was of Hawke and how cruel. He denied Hawke the touch of a lover, the love he deserved but took advantage of his hospitality. With a wry chuckle, Fenris bowed his head over his clenched fingers. What a horrible person he was. Lost in his thoughts, he did not know how long he stood there. It might have been hours. He didn't know when the decision came to him either, but he was grateful it did.
Descending the rest of the stairs, he grabbed his cloak from the floor and went out into the night, not bothering to mess with the door. Thieves could take it; he had another home. His valuables were nothing to him, just moldy books and pages filled with words that carried no real meaning. What was real, what he needed, wasn't at Danarius's mansion. It wasn't in the past.
Through the dark of the night, around prostitutes and pickpockets, he walked through Hightown to Hawke's estate. Bodahn let him in without a word, bowing slightly as he walked past, still in his pajamas. It was late. He wondered if Hawke was sleeping and decided that he would wake up the mage if need be. When he marched up the stairs, though, Hawke wasn't sleeping. He was standing in front of the fire with his arms crossed, dressed in his immaculate red pants with an amulet pulsing at his throat. His hair was sticking up in all directions, mussed as if he had been trying to sleep and could not. Fenris wondered just how long he had been gone.
The door was open, so Fenris walked in. Hawke's head snapped up, and his tense shoulders melted, eyes filling with warm relief. He dropped his arms and turned to face the elf. "I was worried about you."
"Forgive me," Fenris whispered. "It seems I make you worry more often than I should."
"I would worry anyway," Hawke admitted. A pregnant silence filled the room in which Hawke sighed and gathered his breath. "Fenris, I shouldn't have—" but the elf had crossed the floor in quick steps and yanked the human down into a breathtaking kiss. Hawke didn't cooperate, however. He seized Fenris by the shoulders and gently pulled him away. There was something soft in his eyes, something Fenris couldn't identify. "This isn't about that. Sex isn't the reason I wanted you to come back tonight."
"It isn't the reason," Fenris told him softly. "Meeting you has been the one bright point in my life, Hawke. I can't bear the thought of staying away from you, no matter what I remember from my past. It doesn't matter anymore." He took a deep breath to steady his voice. "I was a coward, a fool to let you go. And tonight when I saw that…Anders touching you I—I also realized that I may lose you to someone else if I keep acting like an idiot." The silence that followed must have been only a few seconds, but it seemed like a year.
"You are an idiot," Hawke chuckled. Fenris scowled and tried to push him away, but Hawke pulled him into a hug. "If you think that I'm giving up on you for Anders, you must be the dumbest person in all of Thedas." The relief was apparent on Fenris's face as Hawke moved back to look him right in the eyes. The whisper of magic across his skin didn't repulse him. In fact, it was probably the most relaxing thing he'd felt in a long time. Hawke grabbed his hand and pulled him back toward the bed, lying down and pulling Fenris on top of him. The elf's lanky limbs settled into the perfect places, curled into Hawke's side as if he were meant to be there. He sat up, though, and kissed Hawke slowly and sweetly at first, drawing the mage's lazy attention toward him. A hand much larger than his own rubbed circles on his back, soothing the aching tension in his muscles.
When Fenris pulled back, their eyes met. Hawke touched his cheek, thumb caressing his cheekbone. "Can you bear to remember again only to lose it?" he asked, and Fenris took his time to answer.
"None of it matters anymore," he whispered and kissed him. Hawke gripped the back of his head, a handful of snowy hair, and flipped them over gently so he was on top. Being careful, he didn't put any of his weight on Fenris's body, knee sliding up to rest between the elf's legs. He was so small, wiry but petite. His tattoos glowed with a faint light, and it was just like the first time only much slower. Movement was lazy, neither one in a hurry at all. Hawke felt the exhaustion in his bones, his wounds causing him pain even with the application of magic. Fenris was mindful as his hands roamed over the planes of his shoulders, the coiling muscles in his back and arms.
Hawke's hand slid up the elf's belly, bunching up the shirt and placing hot kisses against his throat. The tattoos buzzed on his tongue, alive with electricity. Fenris's fingers settled on Hawek's slim hips, nails digging in there. Then Hawke crashed their mouths together again, magic crackling between the two of them. Fenris seized his shoulders and flipped them over, straddling Hawke's waist with all the domination he showed on the battlefield. Yanking the thin, mesh shirt over his head, he tossed it to the ground and worked at Hawke's belt.
Meanwhile Hawke was sitting up, hand gripping the back of Fenris's neck. He lavished the elf's marked chest, following the glowing lines with his tongue. It causes shivers to run up Fenris's spine. Hawke kissed him again, sliding his tongue inside his mouth. Both hands came up to cup Hawke's face and lean him back into the bed. Hawke took the initiative and unbuckled his own belt. When he arched his hips to pull the belt out from under his back, Fenrs could feel the burning need hot against his thigh. Smiling slightly to himself, he sat back, pressing his long fingers over Hawke's arousal and eliciting a moan from the human.
"Fenris!" he groaned in the elf's ear, arm looping around his back and tossing them over again. One more flip and they would fall off the bed. Once Hawke was on top, he ignored Fenris's desperate kisses and searching fingers in favor of taking off the belt around the slim waist. He tossed it somewhere behind him and dipped his fingers into the waistband of his trousers. Cool hands met hot and hardened flesh, and Fenris threw his head back into the pillow.
Visions flickered in his mind, but they were quickly overridden by powerful arousal and pleasure. They were puzzle pieces, a girl kneeling in a red dress, Danarius cupping his face, a blue ribbon torn and bloodied on a road. He pushed them away and gripped the back of Hawke's neck, pulling him down for another kiss as the human's hand worked him into a frenzy. A growl vibrated in Hawke's chest as Fenris sank his pointed teeth into his lover's collarbone. Blood welled up from under his tongue, flavoring the next kiss as Hawke yanked at his cotton pants until they were down to his thighs.
Panting, Fenris buried one hand in Hawke's messy hair as the human trailed a warm, pink tongue down his abdomen, following the line of branching markings. He stopped above the elf's arousal, hot breath making it worse. When Hawke slid his thumb over the member, Fenris cried out. "Hawke!" he groaned breathlessly, and the human tried to hide his smirk. Quickly removing any opposition in the way, Hawke swallowed him, and the world melted away.
Even the visions couldn't compete with the champion's overwhelming presence. He forgot his old name, his old life, and his sister all over again, and he wasn't upset. He vowed he'd give a thousand of his past lifetimes for such unimaginable pleasure. When he spilled over into Hawke's mouth, he was trembling with wave after wave. Finally the stars faded from his eyes, and he felt a warm tongue lapping casually at the hollow of his throat, back to lazy kisses and caresses. Hard want pressed against his thigh, but Hawke didn't seem overly concerned with it at the present time. Shakily, Fenris touched the back of Hawke's skull.
"Was it that bad?" Hawke teased him, repeating the same words he'd used their first time. Fenris couldn't help the small smile that came to his lips.
"It was better than anything I could have dreamed," he answered, playing along. His eyes darkened with concern. "But what about—"
"You're more important," Hawke whispered in his ear. "But if you're willing to help…" he trailed off, licking the shell from lobe to pointed tip. Fenris chuckled and placed his palm against Hawke's stomach. The hand crept lower and lower until the long fingers were encircling pulsating flesh. Hawke breathed heavily in his ear, fingers bruising the elf's skin. Controlled magic trembled against him, the danger of Hawke losing control an ever present threat. Yet he did not mind the aroma of magic anymore. Their lips met as Fenris slowly sat up and pushed Hawke onto his back. Quickly divesting him of his pants, he tossed them to the ground as well and laid gentle kisses on his muscled abdomen. Hawke groaned.
"What a tease," he chuckled good-heartedly, looking down at Fenris with something in his eyes that made his heart swell. The elf leaned up and slanted his mouth over his, intertwining their fingers as he straddled Hawke's bare waist. The human groaned against his lips as their flesh met. All of a sudden, Hawke was taking control again, the other hand sliding up the elf's side and then over his renewed erection. Fenris seized his fingers and broke their kiss, a string of saliva connecting between their pale lips.
Sensing his hesitation, Hawke began to sit up and cup his face in concern, but Fenris stopped him. He took the human's large hand and placed it on his back. "Do you have any oil?" he asked in his deep voice. "Something slick so it will not be as painful?"
Understanding dawned on Hawke's face, and he did sit up this time despite the elf trying to stop him. "Fenris, I'm not asking—" Fenris smiled against his lover's collarbone as he realized the understanding went deeper than even that. Of course Hawke would know how Danarius had abused his body in every way possible.
"I'm giving," he whispered in the slick flesh. "And I am not a child or a woman crying over her stolen maidenhood. Oil?" Hand creeping low, he squeezed Hawke's heated arousal in his hand, and the human moaned.
"Top drawer?" he answered, unsure, breathing heavily. Reluctantly Fenris crawled from the bed and searched through the drawer to find a tiny vial used for healing wounds. Pouring perhaps a too generous amount onto his hand, he smeared part of it onto Hawke's fingers as he crawled back into the warm lap. Hawke wasted no time in securing a hold on Fenris's waist and sliding his fingers down over his back side to the swell of his rear and slipping a single finger into his entrance. The elf cried out, hand freezing in its position above Hawke's erection.
A burning sensation spread through him, but he recovered a moment later and kissed the concern away from Hawke's face. His fingers began to massage Hawke slowly, spreading the lubrication generously. There would be pain, but he was hoping it wouldn't be too bad. A second finger entered him, and he paused again to adjust. Hawke didn't say anything, simply breathed and whispered sweet words in his ears. Then he was panting and Hawke brushed something inside of him that made him moan into a bandaged shoulder. The pain was gone, replaced by undeniable pleasure that coursed through his veins. His tattoos burned with intense magic as fingers ghosted over his neck, Hawke nipping casually at his bottom lip.
His fingernails sunk into Hawke's upper arm. Then he pushed him onto his back and pulled free of the fingers and reaching hands. Sitting there for too long would end their encounter much too soon. Fenris crawled on top of him, and then Hawke was inside him with one swift motion. The pleasure was nearly too much, and he bent his head forward to rest against his lover's. A groan rumbled in his chest. He was panting already with want.
"Fenris?" Hawke called to him. "Is it the memories?" he asked, brushing snowy hair away from Fenris's eyes.
"It's not that," the elf answered in a strained voice. "It's you, Hawke, just you." They met in a sloppy kiss that ended more bloody than either would have liked as Hawke thrust up into him and made stars burst before both their eyes. Each thrust was slow and languid at first, teasingly so, but they increased in tempo as the little coil in Fenris's belly wound tighter and tighter. Hawke gripped and stroked him as they moved, and soon he cried out and spilled over, drowning in bliss. The human filled him with warmth at the same time, Hawke pulling him down to kiss and flipping them over at the same time, breaking their fleshy bond.
A loving haze settled into the room. The heat from the fire and their activities had left Fenris's bones spongy and pliable. Moving at all didn't seem like a very good idea. Sweat cooled on his skin along with other fluids, but Hawke didn't seem to mind. He looped his arm around Fenris's waist and tucked him into his side. A lanky limb rested on top of Hawke's legs. Playfully, the human nipped and kissed at his neck, marking him in just a few more ways before a sleepiness settled in the room. Pulling the blankets over them, Hawke prepared to drift away with his eyes closed.
"You're bleeding," Fenris noted, speaking of the small drops of blood leaking out from under the bandage over his shoulder.
"I don't mind," Hawke hummed against his cheek. "If bleeding means I get to sleep next to you."
"Hawke, you don't have to bleed out to sleep next to me," Fenris informed him.
"Hmm, maybe I should," the human teased. "Just look at where we are now after the events of earlier. You should have seen your face when the Arishok broke my arm."
"It was foolish to let your guard down like that," Fenris chided.
"Ouch," he acted wounded. "I was going to cast a freeze spell. I had to let my guard down."
"Either way, it was a poor tactical move."
"Well, next time you can fight him at my side."
"Are we fighting another?"
"Maybe," Hawke opened his eyes. "It seems every time I find a bit of happiness, the world is set on fire. But know this, if I wake up in the Gallows tomorrow, it will be as a happy man."
Fenris's grip tightened. "Let them try."
Hawke chuckled and kissed him. "Yes, I should like to see them try to pull me from your arms."
Fernis smiled a true smile for perhaps the first time in a very long time. "It cannot be done."
I rather liked Fenris. I'll write more about him, I'm sure. I suck so bad at writing sex scenes. *cries* Thanks for reading. Review please.