Hawke smirked, watching the scene at the bar of the Hanged Man. Since Fenris had lost the third round of Diamondback that night he had been sent to replenish the ale. Two rounds had come and gone without sight of him so the mage had set out to find his wayward lover.

Fenris was waiting on Corff to fill up the pitchers, shoulders tight and hunched forward, scowl on his face. Beside him was the bad poet that had tried to woo Isabela so long ago. He had to acknowledge the mans bravery in choosing Fenris to wax poetic about. His elven lover was not fond of the attention and if it kept up the dilettante was going to get his inspiration shoved somewhere he didn't want it.

He was more then happy to watch the man dig his own grave, but Corff gave him a look. More than enough blood had been spilled in the Hanged Man recently and the bartender wasn't going to deal with it tonight. So the Champion swooped in to the poet's rescue, wrapping his arms around the warrior's waist before he could maim the other. A shit-eating grin was handed to the man and he moved a lock of hair out of the way to show the bite on Fenris' neck. "Claimed."

Something about peridot eyes and a body worthy of the Maker was whimpered out before the Poet slunk off in defeat.

"Hawke," Fenris tilted his head, watching the mage from the corner of his eye. Lips were twitching somewhere between a scowl and a smirk. "I am not yours."

"Oh, I don't know about that."

One arm reached behind him, knocking the collection of mugs and cups to the floor. The outraged cry of the man seated at that table turned to stunned silence when the mage hefted his lover with the arm still around his waist. Hawke slammed him down onto the table with only a wide grin at the snarled Tevinter curses. Memories flitted behind amber eyes of the first night they'd been together. The way Fenris had picked him up and flung him into the wall... Turnabout was only fair play.

For once the Hanged Man was completely silent but for the noises of his friends upstairs, and Fenris. Everyones eyes were on the Champion and the fay devil, eagerly drinking in the display.

Hawke grabbed a handful of snow white hair for a crushing kiss. It was all lips and teeth at first, his lip bleeding from where sharp fangs bit down, pushing hands and growling. He loved it all. His was a passionate paramour, whether it be love-making or a good, hard fuck. Riling him up like this was a suicidal, addictive pasttime but the rewards were oh so sweet. When the growling turned to purring, the hands stopped pushing and instead gripped, lips and teeth became more tongue and breath.

He licked his lips as they parted and tasted blood, sour ale and Fenris. "Mine." Hips were pushed together, belying his arousal. An answering one was there to rub against in slow, tantalizing circles.

"Never!" Fenris gasped, a spark of rebellion in glazed eyes. He panted through kiss-swollen lips, body moving, clinging to the enchanter. "I will never belong to you."

"That sounds like a challenge, love." Hawke smirked and threw the fighter over his shoulder. It was amazing how light he was, yet how strong. "I am going to fuck that tight ass of yours until you scream my name." He patted that bottom, enjoying the way he thrashed and struck at him.

"Ponere meum deorsus, iste bastardus!"

The Champion nuzzled his hip, nipping at the beginnings of his lovers ass and moaned. "Keep speaking like that, it turns me on." He climbed the stairs, waving at the crowd behind him. "Continue on, people!"

Fenris continued thrashing as Hawke looked for an open room. "Me euntis ut occidi istud! Asini!" He kept spitting, snarling and struggling until he was dumped onto a bed. There were no words after that, only muffled growling and the sounds of clothe ripping.

The elven male was soon naked, the pieces of his armor far more intact then Hawke's robes on the floor. He ran a hand over the lanky body, the lyrium brands glowing in its wake, stopping between his legs. The hot flesh was molded and fondled until his body was begging for more again. Sweet purring growls, soft gasps... head thrown back into the pillow so he could see his throat work with every swallow, every sound. He was beautiful in these moments when his body pleaded for what his voice never would.

Magic rolled in his mouth, hot and cold at the same time. Fenris may hate mages but when Hawke brushed his tongue over the weeping head the Tevinter cried out. Hands grabbed at black hair to press his face into his groin but they were smacked away. Hawke was in control here and he would not be usurped this time. If he had to drag this out for hours, he would, until Fenris finally screamed his name.

His tongue was ice one second, fire the next, exploring the brands and veins of his beloved's cock. Not too long ago he had discovered how to manipulate them to give pleasure instead of pain. When he touched them now, whether with fingers, lips or tongue, they reacted with the blue glow, enhanced the sensation and reduced Fenris to a quivering mess. Something he was well on his way to being with the double assault of magic and mouth.

Golden eyes watched his reactions, smirking around his mouthful. Fenris, in lieu of not having Hawke's hair in his grasp, had one hand fisted in the pillow, the other in the blanket. His head thrashed side to side with every bob of the mage's head. The sounds that escaped him would have driven the Maker to his knees in awe for their luscious tones.

Kisses were pressed to the lyrium brands just to see them light up and the sweat slick body jerk. "Say it." Hawke ran his tongue over the rivulets of precum, sucking the droplets off the tip. "Say it and I won't make you scream my name for all of Lowtown to hear."

Legs clenched tight around his head, locking behind his neck. For all his sluttish sounds the elf was not that far gone. "N-never."

"I was hoping you'd say that." A bite decorated the inside of one thigh, earning a hiss, in reward for his refusal. His own arousal heated in his veins, cock twitching against his stomach.

Grease covered fingers introduced themselves to a tight pucker. Running over it again and again until it fluttered like a hummingbirds' wings. "Eager, hm?" Hawke chuckled. Two fingers pushed in, ignoring any resistance in favor of looking for that one spot.

He watched Fenris' face, the reactions to his questing and the cold tongue that danced around the rim of his entrance. The tip of his finger rubbed the anterior walls, looking for that firm, rubbery feeling that would let him know he'd found it. That feeling, and his lovers reaction would let him know he'd found it.

The same moment he found it the elf's eyes rolled back into his head, mouth dropping open in a soundless cry. He abandoned toying with the stretched ring to return to the bobbing erection. The feeling of flesh twitching in his mouth, his hips jerking between the sensations inside and outside, the copious amounts of precum... How Fenris bit down on the pillow to muffle his howling, tears streaking down his face, his hands tearing the fabric as his body arched and writhed under Hawke's tender ministrations...

There was nothing like it in all of Thedas.

Hawke left him shuddering and begging at the precipice of climax. "One last chance, lover..." The mage hovered over the warrior, nuzzling his cheek. His dusky skin was flushed pink with arousal and swept all the way back to his ears. The trail was followed until he was suckling the tip of one ear. Fenris cried out under him, nails raking bloody paths on his shoulders. His denial was barely articulate, more of a throaty rumble then words.

Well, he couldn't say he wasn't pleased.

A handful of white hair was grabbed while Hawke shoved the elf onto his side. He kept the grip as Fenris started to struggle again. This time he growled at him, teeth closing on the back of his neck under the older mark there. It set his wolf off. The lithe, slender body bucked and convulsed, roaring and seething at the mage's domination. A leg over the Tevinter's kept him mostly pinned, his hands still trying to claw at anything within reach.

Hawke guided himself into the elf, moaning at the sensation of tight, slick muscle clinging to him. The flailing hands were pressed into the bed, taking away the last of Fenris' freedom. His vocal acerbity faltered when the enchanter started a rythym. Slow at first, gaining in speed and power when he found that little spot inside again. A band of force magic formed around the base of the tattoo'ed erection, keeping the zenith out of reach.

Fenris went limp, whimpering the back of his throat. His scarred skin pulsed like a heartbeat, bathing the room and themselves in azure tones. It meant the former slave was loosing his control.

The hold on his neck was kept until Hawke was sure of his companion's submission. It would bruise again from all of the tussling but he didn't care. If it bruised then it was another mark of possession. As he admired the mark the human detangled himself from the dark body. The keen of loss made him smirk.

"On your back," He couldn't resist giving that taut ass a small slap as he rolled onto his back. As far gone as Fenris was, he still managed to give Hawke a dirty look. "Good."

Hawke grasped the back of his knees and pushed them until they rested in the pillow on each side of Fenris' head. He couldn't resist the urge to test his elven lover's dexterity at least once each time they had sex. For a man who couldn't raise his leg to table height his lover was the Maker incarnate in this. "Hold." Long-fingered hands replaced his own to keep the position.

Maker's breath... He ran gave himself a few strokes as he looked him over. The loose and twitching hole... Straining muscles from the form, rock hard and purpling cock drooling fluid onto a heaving chest. Eyes were nothing but a rim of green, and half-lidded. No Desire Demon could come close to looking as perfect as Fenris did.

He drove back into the clenching passage with a strangled prayer, hands clawing at the wall. "Say it!" Amber eyes stared into clouded green, unable to focus anywhere else. No mercy was shown in the punishing pace that slammed the headboard into the wall in a deafening staccato, loosening plaster from the walls. "Scream my name!"

Resistance was crumbling with climax being denied, verging on the threshold of true pain. One harsh thrust against the button inside his passage destroyed it. "GARRETT!"

The magic disappeared, Hawke reaching as deep as he could as he spilled over with an echoing shout of Fenris' name, and the elf came without the help of a hand.

His throat was sore, his body aching, when he came to. The mage was tossing aside a rag stained with their mess when he noticed Fenris was awake. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction and ego, lips quirking up into a smirk. "Well, you're very, very welcome."

Fenris' fist landed in his ribs as Garrett laughed.