Written for a prompt on the k!meme asking for:
"M!Hawke/Fenris - winter snuggling. They are in Ferelden, it is Winter, and Fenris is NOT MADE FOR THESE TEMPERATURES. Bonus points for if Hawke shares his cloak, if the cloak has a big furry collar, and snuggling. Porn or saccharine fluff I just want something to curl up and drink hot chocolate with!"
"Explain to me again why we are here, Hawke?" Fenris asked resignedly.
"To visit Bethany," Hawke said.
Fenris gave him a long-suffering look. And sneezed.
Hawke winced at the sound. He'd told the other warrior that Ferelden was colder than Kirkwall, but since their original plans hadn't included travelling any further south into the country than Vigil's Keep, and that only briefly, Fenris hadn't done anything more than layer on a good wool cloak over his armour. Which would have been perfectly fine for winter-wear in Kirkwall, and only mildly chilly in Ferelden's coastal lowlands, where the bite of winter was ameliorated by the waters of the Waking Sea. Unfortunately, it had turned out that Bethany had departed some weeks before their arrival, on her way to join a second Grey Warden stronghold in the far south, built among the ruins of Ostagar after King Alistair had decided that the ancient stronghold there should be rebuilt to resume guard on the southern pass.
Unfortunately this had meant travelling southwards into increasingly cold temperatures, and Fenris, born and raised in the warm north as he had been, just wasn't acclimatized to the cold. Nor properly outfitted for it. It hadn't been too bad at first, as they'd travelled first west to Lake Calenhad and then started south to where Lothering had been rebuilt following the end of Blight; the weather was if anything unseasonably mild. And naturally that had changed suddenly and for the worse when they were far from shelter, somewhere south of Lothering.
Hawke paused and looked around. The snow was coming down more and more heavily, the wind picking up speed, driving the large flakes sideways; a real blizzard, such as he'd not seen since before he'd fled Ferelden for Kirkwall. Up on the raised roadbed of the old Imperial Highway where they currently were, there was no shelter from the blast. He glanced at Fenris, who had the blankets from his bedroll wrapped around him for extra warmth and was still looking chilled. He frowned in thought, then abruptly began to backtrack.
"That is the wrong way, Hawke," Fenris pointed out, remaining where he was.
He glanced back over his shoulder at the elf. "We need to get down off this roadway and find some shelter," he said. "I haven't any idea how far it is to the next ramp off of the road, but we passed that broken section not long ago... we should be able to climb down there."
Fenris frowned, then nodded agreement and fell in beside him and slightly behind, keeping Hawke's bulk between him and the worst of the wind. The mound of broken stone where a part of the roadway and its supports had crumbled and subsided was easy enough to find; picking a reasonably safe way down the precarious pile was rather trickier. As much as seeing Fenris striding around with bare feet in the snow made Hawke wince and wish he'd insisted on the elf buying a warmer cloak and proper footwear when they'd passed through Lothering, he almost envied the near-prehensile grip that Fenris' long toes gave him on the slippery chunks of stone. Especially when his own feet shot out from under him on a particularly slick-coated bit of stone, and only Fenris' sudden grab saved him from a rather nasty fall.
He was relieved when they finally reached ground level. He looked around, judging the wind direction down here at ground level. He briefly considered taking shelter in one of the arches that pierced the high roadbed at regular intervals, then realized that they'd be wind tunnels right now, funnelling the arctic blast right through them. Better to find shelter away from the roadway.
He picked his way into the eaves of the winter-bare forest. The wind and snow was heavy enough now that Fenris took a hold of his cloak so as not to loose him in the near-whiteout conditions. Finally he found a suitable place to stop, where a stand of evergreens stood beside a giant granite boulder, creating a small pocket of relatively calm air. He scraped an area along the rock clear, causing a small avalanche of loose snow off of the curved face of it. He shoved that aside as well, using his shield as a crude shovel, until he had an area of relatively clear ground, surrounded by banks of snow and the shielding trees.
He built a small fire at the base of the rock, where it was sheltered from the wind and the upright stone face backing the fire could work as a reflector to cast more of its heat toward them.
Fenris was looking thoroughly miserable by then, hunched into his cloak and blankets and shivering, his toes tightly curled on the cold ground. Hawke took one look at him, cursed, and stripped off his own much heavier cloak, of thick black-dyed wool with a mantle and hood of heavy black bear fur, and ignoring the elf's protests – he'd refused it several times already – swept it around the elf's shoulders.
"Shut up," he ordered, shaking a finger warningly at the other warrior. "I'm not going to freeze in the few minutes it takes me to finish setting camp, but you are dangerously chilled already. Now go stand near the fire while I finish. And don't you dare scorch my new cloak!" he warned.
A sign of how miserable the elf was feeling was that he didn't bother with even a token protest, but meekly went and stood closer to the fire, standing one first one foot, then the other, like a particularly awkward stork, so that he could hold each foot in turn near the flames and warm them, carefully holding the hems of the cloak well back from the flames.
Hawke snorted, and set to work, using his backup sword to hack branches from the evergreens, and cut down some nearby birch saplings – mentally making note that next time, he really would remember to pack a hatchet for once. He swiftly dug two holes in the frozen ground, muttering at the damage it did to his spare sword, then erected two upright poles and fastened a crossbar between them, parallel to the cliff face, with a series of longer poles slanting back from them toward the trees. Then he built up rows of flat-needled fir and spruce branches over top of that, creating a simple slanted roof with the highest side toward the fire – a lean-to, positioned to catch the heat of the fire, and shielded from the wind by the trees and snow banks. The springy tips of pine branches went into it to form a thick carpet to keep them up off the cold ground, then he spread the blankets from his own bedroll over top of those to help keep the prickly needles away from tender skin, as well as provide extra insulation.
Satisfied, he looked over at Fenris. The elf looked warmer finally, standing wrapped in Hawke's heavy cloak as he was, but far more exhausted by their day of travel than Hawke himself felt. He knew how tired prolonged cold could make one feel, leeching energy as it did while the body laboured to stay warm.
"Come on, Fenris," he said gently. "Let's warm up together."
The elf nodded tiredly, and came over to the lean-to. Hawke reclaimed his cloak, settling it around his own shoulders, then squatted and crept into the low shelter, turning to face the opening and settling down, his legs crossed. He patted his lap. "Sit here," he told Fenris.
Fenris frowned, looking mulish.
"Come on, sit!" Hawke ordered. "We can share your blankets and my cloak this way, and we'll warm up faster."
Fenris hesitated, then grudgingly nodded and moved to sit in Hawke's lap, crossing his own legs and settling back against the other warrior's chest, spreading out his blankets over top of their legs. Hawke draped his cloak around both of them, tucking the ends in under his own legs to exclude any drafts, then closed his arms around the slender form perched in his lap. Fenris sat stiffly upright at first – he'd never liked casual physical contact, even after they'd become lovers – then gradually, as he warmed up, he relaxed back against Hawke, his eyes drooping half-closed from exhaustion.
Fenris shifted position, snuggling against Hawke, his head dropping backwards to rest on Hawke's shoulder. The contrast of his white hair and the pale markings on his dusky skin with the snow-speckled black fur was beautiful, Hawke thought. He found himself idly picturing them somewhere warmer – warm enough that he could spread out the cloak, and lay Fenris down on it, unclothed. He pictured how beautiful the elf would look, naked against the matte black wool and shiny black fur. The next time Fenris shifted in his lap, he felt a certain body part perk up a little in wholehearted endorsement of the idea. He turned his head a little, then tentatively nuzzled into Fenris' thick white hair, finding his earlobe and gently sucking it into his mouth.
Fenris' eyes flew open again, and he stiffened. "Hawke?" he said, sounding surprised. "What are you..." He stopped, then shifted position again, his rump pushing back against Hawke's unmistakeable erection. "Now!"
Hawke grinned, a predatory smile. "Why not now?" he asked softly, and moved his arms, running his hands up Fenris' arms within the shelter of their tented cloaks, then let one drop down to press lightly against the tight leather of the elf's leggings, smiling slightly as he felt a noticeable bulge tauten the clothing under his hand. "Do you have plans to go somewhere else at the moment, perhaps?"
Fenris turned his head to look warily at Hawke, then flushed and looked away again. "Do what you will," he said, stiffly, but the way his hips flexed, pushing himself more firmly against Hawke's hand belied the distance in his voice.
Hawke smiled. It was one of the things he rather unashamedly enjoyed about his relationship with the prickly elf; the dichotomy between his spoken words and the messages his body sent, how he said with touch and look what he usually could not bring himself to say with words. It made the rare time he asked for Hawke to touch him, to take him, all the sweeter when they did occur.
And tonight, Hawke decided, he wanted to drive Fenris wild, to hear him begging for Hawke, in that wonderfully deep voice of his, hoarse with passion and frustrated pleasure... just the anticipation of it made his own cock harden further. He nibbled on Fenris' ear again, pulling him back hard against himself, letting the elf feel how excited he was, feeling the answering pressure in Fenris' own groin against his cupped hand.
He started stripping the elf, beneath the sheltering blankets and cloaks, working slowly and carefully so as not to disturb their warm covers. Fenris resisted a little at first, staying limp as a rag-doll as Hawke carefully unfastened buckles and belts and began to remove his armour. He paused every now and then to run his hands appreciatively along the flesh hidden beneath their coverings, knowing just how and where to touch to bring the best responses from the elf. After a while Fenris relented and started actively helping to remove his own armour, and Hawke's as well, sometimes gripping the blankets and cloaks in place so they wouldn't fall free while Hawke stripped off something that required particularly energetic contortions. He pushed the bulkier pieces – their breastplates, vambraces and so on – out from under the cloak. Eventually Hawke was down to wearing just his gambeson, and Fenris was entirely naked, both of them achingly hard from all the playful touching and squirming around.
Hawke resettled the elf in his lap, his erection pressed upright against Fenris' buttocks. He ran his hands along the elf's body with practised assurance now, caressing the flat plane of his stomach, sliding his hands up to palm and tease and tweak his nipples. He coaxed them erect, then toyed with them while his mouth found the elf's earlobe again, and he nibbled his way gently along the curved shell of Fenris' pointed ear, drawing low appreciative growls from the elf. Fenris' hands stroked along Hawke's thighs, then he gripped Hawke's knees, his back arching, pushing his buttocks even more firmly back against Hawke, as he rubbed his chest against Hawke's cupped palms.
Hawke smiled, and switched to the other ear, one hand moving to press against Fenris' stomach, holding him back against Hawke, while the other dipped lower, brushing lightly against the elf's hardened length, drawing a groan from the elf. Instead of stroking back up it, however, he reached further down, gently massaging the elf's balls between his fingers. A deeper groan this time, then as he pressed the tips of his fingers against the sensitive skin even lower down, Fenris hissed, his head tilting sharply back against Hawke's shoulder, eyelids fluttering shut in pleasure.
Hawke drew back and turned his head enough to watch the elf's face as he kept up his teasing manipulations and touches, occasionally stroking briefly along Fenris' erection,lightly touching the weeping end of it, then dipping back down to touch lower, rubbing the slick moisture against the puckered opening further down.
He grinned as the elf squeezed his eyes closed, muttering thickly in Arcanum. That was usually a sign that his control was close to fraying. He reached down again, teasing the tip of his middle finger into the muscular ring, feeling it fluttering and clenching at his touch, then rubbed his thumb firmly against the skin just behind Fenris' balls. The elf jerked, his hands gripping onto Hawke's thighs with bruising force.
"Hawke!" he barked, almost angrily.
"What," Hawke asked, softly, breathing the words into his ear. "Tell me what you want, Fenris."
The elf scowled. Hawke pressed his finger in further, curving, reaching for that certain spot... Fenris jerked again, and made a brief keening noise.
"Please what, Fenris."
The elf's eyes dropped closed. He swallowed heavily, mouth setting. Hawke pressed again, just so.
"Venhedris! Hawke... f-f-fuck me, Hawke, please..."
That voice, so deep, so needy... just what he'd wanted to hear. "Turn around," he grated out, hands already fumbling for where he'd put his belt down beside his leg after taking it off, finding by touch the vial of oil in one of the larger pouches.
They almost lost their coverings as Fenris got himself turned around to straddle Hawke's lap, raised up on his knees. It required some juggling around of who-was-doing-what, before they were settled down again, Hawke holding Fenris against him and their coverings in place while Fenris quickly oiled Hawke's length and then prepared himself, almost whimpering with neediness. Then they were ready and Fenris reached down, positioning Hawke, and began lowering himself.
They both swore, in shared pleasure, as Hawke's tip was slowly enveloped by Fenris, the elf's weight lowering bit by bit. So tight, so hot... Hawke felt almost dizzy with pleasure by the time Fenris stopped moving, Hawke seated deeply within him. Fenris' arms tightened around him, his forehead pressing against his shoulder, and then the elf moved again, slowly raising himself again, drawing groans and further curses from both of them.
"Just like that, Fenris," Hawke breathed into his ear. "Nice and slow. Maker, that feels so good..."
Fenris grunted, but kept up the slow pace, raising himself up and lowering himself down, his own erection rubbing against Hawke's hairy belly, trailing drops of moisture behind it, both of them panting, no longer swearing, just long groans and moans of pleasure. The pace picked up, Fenris grinding down against Hawke as Hawke lifted his own hips as much as he could in the confined space. He rearranged his grip on their coverings, clenching them all in one hand, and slipped his hand down between them, curling his fingers around Fenris' erection. Fenris cried out, then raised his head and locked his hands in Hawke's hair, kissing him, invading Hawke's mouth with his own tongue. Down and up again, kissing greedily, then they surged together on the next down, both crying out, Fenris' seed spurting out over Hawke's hand and stomach even as Hawke's filled him.
Somehow they managed not to lose the blankets and cloaks as they untangled themselves, Fenris wiping both of them clean with a corner of one blanket. They curled up together in the lean-to, Hawke spooned up behind Fenris, blankets and cloaks piled over top of them, and slept, waiting out the storm, warm and safe together.