AN: This is is. The end. I want to thank you all for being faithful and lovely reviewers. It's a good thing I kept a chapter ahead in my writing because this one took a very long time to write, for some reason. Maybe it was just that I didn't have the right music to go along with it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it 3
It had been inevitable when he had walked back to the Hightown estate that he wouldn't stay there long. He'd gathered what little had been brought over, once again assured the mabari that he didn't blame him for anything, then left. Hawke hadn't said a word about his leaving, merely watched him with an unreadable expression. He wasn't sure if that was more unnerving than him begging him to stay. Still, he took it in stride and while he was walking away, glanced back to see those infuriatingly red eyes watching him. Even after all the time knowing him, he still had shivers run down his spine from them. Be it good or bad, he supposed it was at least a constant. He gave the other man a nod, then disappeared around a corner.
He passed by the chantry, and with a cursory glance for Sebastian, continued up the stairs to 'his' mansion. As he pushed open the door, he didn't see the old signs of neglect that he had left behind. In fact, it seemed like someone had been in and tidied up. The skeleton that had been a macabre adornment directly under the stairs landing was even missing and he cautiously made his way upstairs. It wasn't that he expected a trap at all. After all, both Aveline and Varric had stayed behind it seemed, and they would have looked after it. But it never hurt to be wary.
That said, as he went into his bedroom, he noticed that the fire wasn't set. That meant they weren't watching him, personally, and his bed had even been made. And was that, perhaps, a new pillow? If he ever found out who had decided to clean up and give him something, he would have to thank them.
With that thought he paused, setting his small bundle down on one of the chairs. He was again a little baffled by his own behavior. Two weeks ago he would not have thought of going out of his way just to thank anyone. Even one week ago, he would have not thought of apologizing to a mage. As he blindly moved to get the fire going, he quietly wondered what had changed.
Had his time, however brief it was, with Danarius again changed him? No, he still hated the magister and all of his cronies, still despised mages... Well, perhaps not all mages. He still wasn't fond of Merrill and her blood magic, nor was he fond of Anders and his 'spirit'. But still, the man had helped him, both to remember and to walk again. Leaning against the mantle finally, he had to think that it might not have been the time with Danarius, but the time immediately after that had altered his attitude so much.
Merrill hadn't changed much toward him, but the way Anders had treated him had, at least briefly. He knew at least, that whatever he had done had stopped his markings from hurting right off, and the man had shown nothing but kindness to him, at least before he had punched him. He couldn't even really blame him for the headache he'd had for his efforts. In fact, it was almost understandable that he would have had one, considering it was a rush of things coming back to him.
And the elation that he'd seen on his face when he'd given him the kitten led him to believe that perhaps he might have assumed wrong about him, at least to a degree. He was still an abomination, that remained even if he chose to not be quite as abrasive toward him.
Shaking his head a little, he turned from the fire to go to the bed and turn down the blankets for a little later. He had to go and see an armorer to get something new made for himself, and that was the first thing he would do. At least he didn't have to get a new sword. So, as the fire warmed the room, he left the mansion again, heading for the market.
Hawke watched Fenris leave, face schooled into a mask of indifference. He hadn't been prepared for him to stand up after Aether had him on the ground, nor had he been prepared for the kiss that had been laid on him. In some ways, he was still in shock from both facts, and it was only when Fenris left his sight that he stepped back, closed the door, and simply leaned against it. At least he knew that all the times that he was in bed with him, it hadn't been simply because he was forced to be. He'd probably wanted to be there.
And yet, he hadn't stopped him from gathering the small bit of clothing that they'd brought over for him, nor had he asked him to stay. He was going to miss having the elf there, even just in the estate. Spending time with him had become a regular occurrence, and he'd taken some time to actually work on the reading lessons he'd promised him.
Heaving a sigh, his feet moved before he realized it and soon he was sitting on the ledge of one of the upstairs windows and blindly looking out over Hightown. His eyes only focused again when he saw Fenris once again, walking the opposite direction with a sense of purpose to his stride. For once, he wasn't slouched over at all, and he wondered if it was the weight of the blade that made him hunch over a little.
Shaking his head, he made himself leave the window to go and answer the correspondence that he'd been neglecting since having Fenris in his home. "Champion, please come here and court my daughter" or "Please grace us with your attendance" were just a couple of the letters, but then again, the same thing was repeated several times over. Throw in the odd "Where were you" for the past two weeks where he'd done nothing but obsess over Fenris, and you had a pile of mail that was both hopeful and angry that would take hours.
Forget hours, the damn mail took him three entire days to get through. Mostly because he wanted to tear his hair out at some of his neighbors' pleas then accusations of him avoiding people. There were times he hated being the champion for all the dreaded people, and as he found his blades again and strapped them to his back. He needed to get out, and preferably to somewhere that no one would find him. That didn't necessarily mean out of Kirkwall, and as he pulled himself out of the window in his room, he neatly scaled the wall using the ivy trestle. No one would look for him on the roofs, surely.
Dusting off his hands when he finally got to the roof, he looked around, then backed away from the edge to take a running leap to another roof. There was one roof in particular that no one would look for him on, mostly because half of it was falling in. And heaven forbid he do something dangerous like prance around on a roof like that.
He skidded to a stop on the roof in question, stopping just short of a hole in the roof. He had a nice view of many of the Hightown mansions from here and as he lightly leapt over the hole, he pulled both blades from his back to start a dance that was both graceful and deadly. His feet slid against loosened roofing and stones, and he mused that if Fenris was indeed inside, he would hear him. But he didn't think he would be. He hadn't seen him since the day he'd watched him head back for the downtown area of Hightown, so he doubted he'd be in today either.
At first, Fenris brushed off the sound of something above his head as a bird or some other small mammal skittering on the roof. As he turned the page of "A Slave's Life" though, he heard it again. It sounded like something or someone was deliberately moving around up there. Frowning just a bit, he ignored it for the second time, then the shuffling continued in several quick scrapes. Now it was just enough to make him stand up and mark his page.
Moving away from the table that served both as a desk and dining area, he went to the window to see if he could see anything. There was a quick flash of something on the neighboring building, and his eyes narrowed. That was a sure sign of the sun shining off of metal, and as he saw it again, he moved away from the window and toward the hall. There was a ladder that he could pull down and get into the crawlspace between the roof and the rest of the house, and it was where he often put things to catch the rainwater when it came in.
As he reached the top of the ladder and looked into the crawlspace, he jerked backward at a loud noise that accompanied the splintered wood mere inches from his face. He rocked precariously on the ladder and shot his hand out to grab the boot that was just suddenly through his roof, only vaguely hearing the shout of surprise that came from above him. A very familiar shout indeed, and a small smile tugged at his lips as he regained his balance and released the booted foot.
Soon enough, vibrant eyes were staring through the hole and he waggled his fingers in a hello. "You could try coming in the front door you know."
"But then how would you ever get an interesting greeting?" No matter what happened, the joking voice always made him smile.
"Well normally, an interesting greeting would constitute something face to face, not a foot in my face." He leaned more against the ladder, one brow raised.
"Yes well... ... Would you like me to come in then? I could be inside in just a second. Did you know there's a hole large enough for me to fit through?"
"...no, I did not. And I would prefer it if you didn't come in through my roof." Green eyes skimmed over the crawlspace, and he saw the spot Hawke was talking about. It was indeed large enough for a man of Hawke's size to fit through, and he wondered why he hadn't noticed it before.
"Finefine...I'll be in your room in just a moment." The face disappeared from the hole before he had a chance to respond, and he heard another scuffling as he went down the ladder and put it up, latching it firmly. He'd have to get that taken care of.
Shaking his head a little, he left the ladder to go to the landing to wait for the man to come in the front door, and jumped almost a foot in the air as arms slid around his waist from behind.
"I told you, I'd be in your room, not at the door," the teasing voice was merely a breath in his ear and it sent shivers up his spine.
"So...you did," he managed, fighting to not lean back into his arms. It was a fight he lost as he felt Hawke's teeth nibble, very gently, along the lobe of his ear, though he managed to not moan at the feeling like he so wanted to. He blindly followed him as Hawke shuffled them both backward and up the small flight of stairs leading to his room.
Those lips were slowly running along his ear toward the tip, and a small shudder ran through him as it was lightly sucked on. Apparently, over the course of two and a half years, Hawke hadn't forgotten how to make him want him. He was dimly aware of the firelight as they went into the next room, but he couldn't bring himself to care that they'd finally stopped moving as fingers lifted to lightly skim along his throat. A feather light touch followed the curve of lyrium that ran just behind his ear and down under his collar, pushing the supple leather back. "Hawke..."
"Mm...?" Lips were now following the path of the lyrium, and Fenris finally lifted a hand to tangle it in his hair to try and halt his procession.
"Perhaps...a drink..?" Anything that would get that mind-numbing tongue, his TONGUE, away from his skin now.
"I think I'm fine without," the other man whispered, and warm breath blew over cooling skin to make him shiver.
Shifting a little, he tried to turn in the rogue's arm, hoping that seeing his face would help his resolve to pull away. Yet, it only made it worse. The band of steel tightened around his waist and his other free hand pulled open the leather at his throat. He didn't have time to question why as Hawke dipped his head to nibble along the sensitive lyrium lines that ran over his collarbone. This time, the moan escaped him, and his arms lifted, not to push him away, but to clutch at him instead. He felt the soft chuckle against his skin more than he heard it and gave up trying to fight him.
There was no point to it really. He wanted Hawke just as badly as he had the first time they were together, perhaps more now. He was aware of a brief lack of touch before he was being kissed, and he leaned into the human just a little as he almost desperately returned it. This had been one thing Danarius hadn't thought to ruin for him. As their tongues slid against each other, he heard the other man groan, and felt his hips being tugged closer to press them firmly together. Briefly, he wondered if this had been Hawke's intent the entire time when he'd come to play on his roof, and his fingers shifted from his lower back to take the large, twin blades off of him and toss them to the side. The thud of them hitting the floor only made the human pause for a moment, then his attention turned once again to the lyrium lines.
If anyone had told him that the brands that had once caused him so much pain would be an infinite source of pleasure, they would have been treated to a fist in their chest. But that had changed now. As soft lips, teeth, and a moist tongue traced the lines on his neck, he slowly reached a hand to pull at the jerkin Hawke was wearing to attempt to get it off. He'd barely had any of his own clothing moved at all, and he was already throbbing with desire. The only time he'd felt similarly was when they'd been together the first time, and he ruthlessly shoved the result of that encounter to the back of his mind. He didn't want to have a repeat of it, and as his hands touched hot skin, he managed to forget all but what he was feeling, for at least a little bit.
Fur-lined leather soon hit the floor, and Fenris greedily ran his hands over the exposed and faintly scarred flesh. Every line was his, it seemed, and he shifted just enough to make Hawke stop attacking him so he could taste the slightly salty flesh he'd just revealed. He traced his tongue over a line of raised flesh on his shoulder, hands skimming over the rogue's ribs. He was vaguely aware of the fastenings of his top being pulled apart, but it wasn't until he felt hands smoothing over his stomach and sides that he pulled away and turned his back on him, clutching the fabric together in the front.
"...Fenris?" The concern in Hawke's voice was obvious and he flinched at the touch to his shoulder. "...What's wrong?"
"I... I am sorry." Gripping the fabric tight, his head dropped and he could see the slightly brighter lines of lyrium tracing his stomach before he covered it again. They were disgusting, marring his flesh further. Hawke had once told him that it didn't matter, that every line only served to make him want him more. But this? This revolting display? Not even Hawke could appreciate it. He was startled as arms slid around him again and pulled the fabric tighter. Large hands covered his own and gently pried them from their clenched hold on the soft leather.
"Don't be ashamed Fenris...don't you remember? You were once, and I showed you why you shouldn't be. Let me show you again." His voice was soft, alluring, compelling even, and he wanted to listen to him, to believe everything he was saying. Even so, he leaned over to keep him from seeing the swirling marks.
"It's hideous," he said quietly, eyes closed. He was sure the other man would agree with him and he resisted as Hawke tried to turn him around.
"It's a part of you now, and nothing that is a part of you could be." Hands left his and moved to pull his top down and off his shoulders, lips following one line of lyrium that intersected with the new ones on his back. "I'll prove that to you if you'll only let me."
The words were only a whisper against his skin, but they seemed to resonate through the lyrium and made him shiver again. "Hawke..."
"What have I told you about using my given name, hm..?" He was spun neatly around before he could even respond, and the leather shirt was dropped to the floor before he could clutch onto it like a lifeline again. He wasn't even given a chance to try to hide by pressing up against him as Hawke dropped to one knee and pressed lips against his stomach, deliberately licking along the lyrium to show that he didn't mind it.
"Eorwyn..." He pushed a hand into the other man's hair to grip it gently, unable to control the faint tremble that ran through him as his lips followed the curving lines straight down to his waistband. His hand tightened a little as callused fingers hooked there and dragged it down just the bare hint. Red eyes met his own and he shook his head the faintest bit.
As if it were a challenge though, those devilish lips quirked up at the corners, and soon the leggings were down to his knees. He averted his eyes, not wanting to see if he was horrified by perhaps the most painful of the lines. For a moment, the only sound was the crackle of the fire next to them, the only thing he felt was the warmth of his hands on the backs of his thighs to hold him in place and keep him from running.
Then all he knew was wet heat as a tongue dragged up one line, then down the other. His knees threatened to buckle, and his mouth opened with a soft whimper. He heard the other chuckle, then his length was being enveloped in an inferno. He lifted a hand to clutch at the mantle, the other pulling, most likely painfully, at the other's hair.
And yet Hawke didn't say a word about it, simply continued laving him with attention, tongue deliberately following along those lines. It was unlike anything he'd felt. The sheer pleasure of being catered to and given pleasure was all but driving him mad slowly, and the addition of the lyrium that was continually being stimulated was causing his body to resonate. He didn't have to open his eyes to know that he was enveloped in a blue glow, and as much as that fact embarrassed him, he knew that Hawke liked to see him like that.
Too soon, the heat was gone, leaving him shivering and swaying just a little. Hands smoothed down his calves and took the leggings with them. Releasing his grip on the human's hair and leaning a bit more on the mantle, he lifted his feet to get them off, trying to not react as each one was caught and had a kiss pressed to the trio of dots that marked the top of them. He couldn't quite help the way his toes curled at the simple gesture though, and when Hawke rose to standing again, he was able to meet his eyes again, with no fear that the scars would turn him away.
Lifting his hand, he smoothed it along the rogue's cheek lightly, feeling the stubble from a day with no shaving before he was pulled gently from the fire and to the bed. Twisting around the human, he sat down first, leaning down to pull at the ties on his boots nimbly so they could be taken off. He heard a vague murmur telling him that he didn't have to do it, but he didn't care. If he didn't, the man would probably end up in bed with his pants still firmly around his hips but open, and his boots leaving dirty marks on the end of the comforter. To make his waiting seem less, he deliberately lifted his head and nuzzled the firm bulge that he was seated directly in front of, taking delight in the sharp intake of breath. Apparently he wasn't the only one that would be happy without clothing between them at that very moment, and when he lifted his hands to his breeches to yank them down, he glanced up and received a smirk that only encouraged him further.
And then the proof was bold and beautiful, right in front of him. Licking his lips, he was dimly aware of Hawke shedding the clothing by kicking it off, then he leaned forward, tongue coming out to lick away the pre-cum that was lingering on the tip. He hadn't had to do much to get him fully erect and he gently closed his hand around the base of his cock as he swirled his tongue around the head before sinking lower. This was another thing that remained unspoiled, and he enjoyed the motion of sinking down until he met his hand and drawing back, lips tight around the shaft.
He heard a soft moan and felt a hand slide gently through his hair to tell him he was doing a good job, and he 'hmm'-ed softly as he moved, sending soft vibrations along his length. One large hand slid down the back of his neck, sliding along white lines, causing him to shiver a little and lean in just a little closer to the other male as he sucked on him, enjoying the touches and the feel of his hips moving, ever so slightly in a thrusting motion. It didn't take long before a hand slid around his jaw to lift him off, and he licked his lips as he gazed upward, deciding to just revel in the man before him and not think about his own failings.
"If you keep on like that, I won't last long enough to make you feel good." His voice was rough with desire and caused a shiver to run up Fenris's spine. Knowing exactly what he meant though, he shifted backward on the bed. He didn't care if they didn't have the oil like they would usually use, and actually anticipated the burn of it. Nothing would serve to better erase the memory of Danarius's touch from his flesh.
"Then what are you waiting for..?" His own voice was husky, though not surprisingly so. His eyes darkened a little as Hawke bent to kneel on the bed, leaning over him and kissing him once again. Lifting one hand to slide around the back of his shoulders, he shifted his legs apart as Hawke's hand delved between them, first to stroke him lightly, then moving lower to prepare him. It was another welcome change, and as warm lips left his own, he didn't hold back the moan that was building his throat.
No time was wasted as he was stretched with two fingers to start with, and when he willingly pushed back against them, a third was pressed in with them. That was when the ache started, and he couldn't help but tense just a little. Words were murmured softly in his ear until he relaxed again, in no small part thanks to the soft kisses that were traveling the sensitive flesh.
The wanton sound that left him when the fingers were removed surprised him, but it was easily cut off as Hawke moved between his legs himself, using one hand to guide himself inward. Once again, there was pain, but it was of a different sort than he'd felt before, and his hips lifted to receive more of it. It was the sort of pain that he wanted more of, because he'd feel it tomorrow in a delicious ache.
As Hawke settled fully inside of him, a hand brushed at his unruly fringe to get it out of his eyes, and he knew that the human was waiting for some sign from him that he could move. At the same time he turned his face to kiss his palm, he bent his knees up, rocking his hips enough to make him move himself. That was enough, and Hawke moved finally, rocking his hips in shallowly at first. When Fenris met them by rocking up as well, they grew longer and a bit faster. He knew that he was still holding back for fear of hurting him and curled one hand in the sheets while the other held onto his shoulder.
A softly whispered, "more..." was more than enough to make him move with abandon. Deep, hard thrusts shook him to his core, and he lifted off the bed a little each time to make sure he could feel every inch of the other male. Strong fingers were soon closing around him to stroke him roughly, and a soft whimper left him. Hawke already knew that just the act of sex itself was more than enough, but to add that to it was akin to driving him mad. Blunted fingernails dragged along his back, leaving red lines behind. His mouth opened with a soundless moan, and somehow, he knew that the other man was watching every twitch he made delightedly, a fact that added color to his cheeks. This was one of the few times he couldn't control himself, and Hawke knew it. And he loved to see him lose all semblance of control and just react.
The pressure was building him in though, and he knew that he wouldn't last long at all. Digging his fingers into Hawke's back, he tried to tell him without words. The nibble on his neck more than told him he was understood, and the fact that it was on the lyrium made the markings light up dully in response.
All thoughts fled from his mind as the damn holding the pressure burst, and all he could see was stars. Dimly, he was aware of hand closing over his own, and it took what limited thought process he had left to turn his hand to grip it tightly, and he heard the groan as Hawke reached his own culmination, filling him with a hot, liquid warmth.
As the rogue shifted to the side, the sole word in Fenris's mind was 'clean.' He hadn't felt that way since, well, a long time ago. He'd spent hours in the bath just the night before, scrubbing until his browned skin had turned pink from his efforts and the lyrium had stood out in a stark white contrast. And even then he hadn't felt clean. Somehow, now, even with Hawke gathering him close and ribbons of sticky semen covering his chest and belly, he felt clean.
And he understood why. He couldn't explain it, how Danarius's touch had lingered with him until that perfect moment when it all fell away. How Hawke's had replaced it and still burned his skin with a pleasant inferno. Lips found his own in a somewhat breathless and altogether lazy kiss, and he shifted just a little closer before tucking his head down against the man's shoulder and closing his eyes. He was far from tired, but he'd take whatever comfort that was offered.
It seemed like hours had passed as they laid together quietly, only occasionally kissing. The constant had been the firm stroke of his hand over the dusky skin of his back, and the occasional stopping to trace a line he could only feel. It had amused him, each time, to have Fenris turn his face against his shoulder.
When the elf had claimed a desire to clean up, he'd reluctantly let him go and moved to get up himself. He'd watched as he'd picked up the clothing and almost self-conciously bundled it in front of himself and only smiled as he slipped out of the room. Rising from the bed, he pulled on his pants and jerkin roughly, a rarely used scowl touching his lips.
Danarius would try to take him again; there was no doubt about that. And he would be there when he showed his ugly, wrinkled face again. As he picked up the two blades from where Fenris had unceremoniously dropped them, he smiled maliciously. Spinning them into place, he knew what he would do if he met him and they were alone. He'd slice him from throat to groin. Then he'd feed him healing potions and force him to eat his own entrails. Perhaps that was a bit sadistic, but he thought that the magister had it due.
Then again, if Fenris were with him, he'd rather let him remove his heart and slowly crush it for Danarius to see. It would be fitting justice. Even Anders might enjoy watching that. A soft scuff turned his smile into something more gentle and he turned to see Fenris with a tray. A wine bottle was in the center, with two glasses, no doubt new as well, on either side. Moving over to the table, he offered the elf a hand in opening the bottle at least.
"I...wanted to thank you." The voice was soft and deep, and still made his toes curl.
"What for..?" Curiosity would kill him one day, he was sure of it, and he didn't miss the way Fenris's eyes flicked toward him.
"For..this. For everything." Somehow, he knew that he wasn't going to elaborate on that and, lifting a hand, he ruffled Fenris's hair up. It earned him a swat before he was offered wine.
"Anytime. No matter what." The hint of steel in his voice earned him a searching look as he took the glass from him, and his easy smile returned at the nod he was given.
He made up his mind then. Kirkwall could call him a champion all they wanted. The only one he was actively going to play that roll for was for Fenris however. No matter when he wanted it. Even if the elf's pride stood in the way of asking for help, he'd be there to either push or pull him through whatever obstacle stood in the way.
"Well since we didn't properly celebrate...here's to you." Once again, he was silently questioned. "For your fifth anniversary," he explained, and he delighted in the rich chuckle that escaped the elf.
As long as he could continue to make him laugh like that, he was sure that things would be fine between them. Even if it took even longer to make him sleep with him again, he would happily wait. Just being at his side was enough.
The end. Seems so final. Well, that's that. ^^ Sorry there isn't a resolution on the Danarius front, but I wanted it to be set in-between Acts, so I can't exactly kill him and have it work out properly. :3