Chapter Text
“Your staff, Serah,” Bodahn called as Hawke swept out the front door.
“I better not need it.”
It wasn’t the first time she’d hurried to Fenris’ place in a rage, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. The close proximity of the mansion he was squatting in to her estate was very convenient for her. Whenever she had to go all the way to Lowtown to ream out Isabela, she was already mad about a different thing she saw on the way over there and just wanted a drink.
Fenris never got that lucky.
She banged into the mansion, which Aveline had only recently been able to convince Fenris to rid of decaying bodies, and called for him.
He didn’t answer. He never answered. She didn’t hear him sparring against a wooden dummy out back, so she headed to the study.
She found him, still in full armour, wetting the giant sword he’d picked off a corpse today.
“I expected you an hour ago,” he said without looking up from the task at hand. “I was starting to worry those prisoners turned against you.”
“No, it just turns out that Varric and Isabela have a flawed perception of proper behaviour with children.” It took them twice as long to reach the Circle as it would’ve if the two of them hadn’t pointed out every spot they’d killed somebody over the years. “They still weren’t as bad as you.”
“Must we always go through this? I don’t intend to change.”
“You cannot undermine me like that in front of the people I’m trying to help.”
He laid his sword on the desk, scarred with too many dents and gouges to ever write on. “Alright, so we are doing this.”
“They were children,” Hawke said.
“They were mages.”
“Who were the last of their village, scared, alone-”
He rolled his eyes. “Because they burned down the village.”
“They’re children!” Her fists tightened. “They weren’t blood mages, they weren’t abominations. They wanted to go to the Circle.”
She did not want to take them to the Circle, but it wasn’t like she could send ten year old humans off to the Dalish, or slap some sovereigns in their hands and wish them the best. It was their only option- was what she kept telling herself.
She pointed an accusatory finger at Fenris. “And yet you still suggested killing them.”
“It was a joke.” He lifted his sword to the light, examining it like this conversation wasn’t interesting enough to hold his full attention. “I knew you’d never.”
“The children didn’t.” She invaded his space, trying to get him to look at her again. “What’s wrong with you? Do you get off on scaring people?”
“I’m sorry, Hawke,” he said, leaking false regret. “If we find another group of mage children who set their village on fire, I won’t offer to ghost their hearts out.”
She knocked his wrist down so the sword was forced out of his eye line.
His nostrils flared. “If you disapprove of my behaviour so much, why do you keep inviting me on these missions?”
“If you hate mages so much, why do you keep joining me?”
“Maybe I want to keep you in line.” He laid the flat of his sword against her stomach and pushed her back. Anger flared red hot in her chest. “Maybe I just like the coin.”
She kicked at an empty wine bottle on the floor. “Keep me in line? I need to keep you in line. You’d lop off the head of every mage you met if it weren’t for me.”
His lips curled like a wolf’s. “And I’d be doing a service.”
She advanced so fast that he actually backed up. “You can’t hate every mage just because a few did horrible things to you.”
His face clouded, and he leaned in so close she could smell the sweat on his skin. “I voraciously disagree.”
“Well, I-” She started her sentence without knowing how it would end, a common tendency of hers that only led to trouble.
Luckily, in this instance she was saved the trouble of scrambling for a comeback because Fenris kissed her.
An altogether unexpected outcome.
Fenris was attractive, of that there was no doubt. His long, lithe form and lean muscles practically begged for attention. Hawke and Isabela had spent more than one conversation detailing what they’d do to him if either had the chance. But that was the thing: Fenris was the last person Hawke thought she had a shot with. She could be as nice and helpful as possible, but they always ended up fighting. Which, sure, with other people that might’ve worked, but she wasn’t certain Fenris had ever even touched her before this moment.
That didn’t mean she didn’t welcome it. But, still…
Shock kept her eyes open, staring at the blurry form of Fenris’ face so close to hers. Shock also caused laughter to bubble out of her mouth.
He pulled away with the grimmest scowl she’d ever seen him wear. “What?”
“Is this what all this tension has been about? Here I was thinking you wanted to tear my heart from my ribs.”
“I still might,” he rumbled before backing her into the edge of the desk. His lips were harsh and demanding, just like his words. He laid one hand at the side of her neck, the claws of his gauntlets digging at her skin.
She pulled at his wrist. “Take off the gloves. And drop the damn blade. I promise you won’t need it.”
The sword skidded across the floor to the other side of the room. Fenris glowered at her as he tore off his gauntlets and the gloves underneath and let them drop at his feet. “Will you shut up now?”
She smirked. “You’re gonna have to make-”
He grabbed her by the face and covered her mouth with his own, his nails digging into her skin now. But Hawke could work with that. She hopped onto the desk and hooked her legs around his waist, drawing him closer until there was no space left between them.
When she tried to run her fingers through his silky hair, a temptation she thought she no longer had to resist, he dragged both her hands onto the desk and held them there like cuffs.
“Still with the touching thing?” When he first joined the crew, Isabela poked at a tattoo on his arm and he nearly broke her hand.
“Yes.”
“Is that fair?”
He dragged his nails down her clothed thigh. “It doesn’t need to be.”
And she must have agreed because she kept a white-knuckled hold on the edge of the desk as he tugged off her pants and drew moans from her with his fingers, only bringing his mouth to hers when she tried to speak. Otherwise he just watched the effect he had on her with hooded eyes. It made her feel like an exhibit, an experiment of Fenris’ to be conducted at his pleasure. But she was too far gone to object.
“Fen-” His mouth stole her words, as hot and rough as his ministrations. “Fenris-” He kissed her again and she had to tilt her head back to speak, as if calling to the heavens, “Please.”
He stilled, which was the exact opposite of what she wanted. “What?”
“You know what,” she said through gritted teeth.
Tending to every last squabble in Kirkwall did not leave a lot of spare time for sexual endeavours; it had been months since she’d so much as drunkenly fondled Isabela’s breasts. She needed this.
He lifted a brow and brought his fingers to her clit, a slow steady pressure, no more than a tease. “Do I? We so often have dissenting opinions.”
She was sure her nails were leaving dents on the underside of the desk.
She spread her thighs further, which brought his attention down to her glistening core. He swallowed, neck shining with sweat.
He removed his hand, which was worse than the teasing. “Beg.”
A frustrated laugh escaped her lips. “Didn’t I just?”
Within a second, he had her flipped over, bent over the desk, his long body draped over her. She was immobile underneath him. His mouth brushed her ear, hot breath drenching the side of her face. “I said beg.”
“Please.” She arched into him, desperate for friction. “Fenris, please.”
He nipped at her ear and then drew back. She twisted around, angry that this was some sort of trick, like all he wanted was to make her beg for his cock so he’d have the upper hand in any future quarrel- but he pushed her down by the neck with the hand that wasn’t undoing his pants.
“Hands over your head,” he ordered.
With a barely concealed groan, she brought her hands higher and gripped the sides of the desk.
Then he laid his cock against her flesh. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel it, thick and hot against her. She pressed back, but he held her hips still, so tight it would bruise.
“Please. Please fuck me.” He wanted her to beg, fine. She’d sing a song if that’s what he asked for next.
Instead Fenris let out a low groan as he filled her with one stroke. She gasped, closing her eyes to focus on the sensation. He dragged her closer and started pounding into her with all of the carefully controlled power he used in battle. Forceful and furious, but not wild. Every movement had a purpose. He knew exactly what he was doing.
And he was doing it very well. Hawke continued to moan out her pleas for fear that he’d stop suddenly and leave her without. He absolutely could not. Heat rose within her as Fenris’ thrusts grew harsher. She whined, but he held her tight, so she couldn’t adjust her angle, only get fucked at his will.
“Is this what you want?” he asked as he filled her, over and over.
She pressed her forehead into the desk, squeezing her eyes shut. Her toes were already curling against the floor, there was a tightness in her stomach, looming outward as Fenris kept a punishing pace. “Yes, yes. Don’t stop.”
He chuckled, moving one hand to grip her shoulder so he could buck into her deeper.
She cried out as her orgasm coursed through her, alighting her skin with heat. Fenris didn’t slow. She rode the aftershocks, clenching around him, until that pleasure turned to over sensitivity.
He draped himself over her again, cock buried in her swollen center. All she could sense was him. He panted over her neck, “The great Hawke, finally silent.” His lilting voice curled into her ear. “Have I performed a miracle?”
She scoffed the best she could. “Your cock isn’t-”
He pulled nearly all the way back and then threw his hips forward. She hissed, arching into him.
“Mm, you think on that.” Fenris continued fucking into her, his harsh breathing now at her ear. She could hear every grunt he made, felt the rumble of it against her back. He held her down by the shoulder, hips moving faster as he grew closer, and Hawke in turn felt herself getting close again.
Fenris’ grip tightened, digging into her so hard it hurt, as his cut-off grunt hit her ear. He spilled into her, hot and wet and so much.
He pulled back, leaving her body cool. Slipped out, and she whined, already throbbing for more. “I’m close.”
“Unless that was you pissing yourself, you already came.” Even seconds after coming he was in a foul mood.
She scowled, sitting up. He’d already put himself away. “I’m close again,” she said sourly. “Must be your incomparable sexual prowess.”
He smirked. “Two, though? Would that be fair?”
She glared at him but he didn’t budge. So she brought her own fingers to her clit, swollen and drenched in both their fluids.
“Fine,” she gasped as she began to work it over. “Just gimme a minute then.”
His eyebrows lowered. “No.”
“No? If you refuse to help-”
He pushed her onto her back. She smiled, bringing her hands over her head.
And then he lowered his mouth to her and let his wicked tongue do the work.
It was the first time, but it certainly wasn’t the last.
A week later, they were at the Wounded Coast in some cave that looked the exact same as the past four they’d been in. They killed whoever was stupid enough to try to take them on, and then, while Aveline tended to Varric’s wounds, Fenris brought her into a separate room, talking about some good loot he found.
“If there are locked chests, we should wait for Varric,” Hawke was saying, Fenris’ true motives going completely over her head until he pressed her into the wall.
She tore her mouth away from his. “What?”
Fenris scowled, as if she’d been the one to lure him into a darkened room for clandestine sex. “What?”
She reached out to swipe the splattered blood off his face. He smacked her hand away.
“Oh, that’s hot,” she said sarcastically. He opened his mouth to retort but she cut him off. “And don’t say it doesn’t have to be. It does, and I’m not sure why fucking twenty paces from rotting corpses is supposed to get me excited.”
“They’re not rotting yet.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, fresh murder is much sexier.”
He sighed in irritation. “Do you want to fuck or not?”
She tilted her head in consideration. Last time had been very good. And she’d yet to find any better way to vent her frustrations about Fenris.
She cast a glance through the doorway to make sure Varric and Aveline weren’t anywhere near. “Okay, lose the gloves.”
With a dark look, he obliged. “Hands above your head.”
With a sigh, she let him pin her hands against the stone. “Your thing’s weirder than mine.”
Then his mouth silenced her words, her sighs, her moans.
So Mr. I-Hate-Mages started screwing one, for reasons beyond Hawke’s immediate understanding. Like, it was pretty obvious that during missions Fenris got all hot and bothered killing things and wanted to express his excitement with sex. That made sense. But why Hawke?
Well, hate sex, she guessed, even though she hoped he didn’t actually hate her. Like, sure, she was a mage, but he helped her rid Kirkwall of crime (or commit crime, whatever was on the roster that day), and they battled together, and they fucked. That meant something, right?
Hawke had no one to confirm or dissuade her because she wasn’t telling anybody. She wanted to tell Isabela, discuss which of their predictions on Fenris lined up with reality, But Isabela would tell Varric and then the whole gang would know and if it somehow got back to Carver with the Templars, or worse, her mother, she’d probably die of embarrassment.
So she didn’t tell Isabela about the way the tattoos on his throat flexed when he groaned, or how hot it was that he could hold her entire body against the wall with one hand, or how his lyrium tattoos flared like lightning before he came.
She didn’t even tell her about when they saved a travelling merchant from a group of bandits. He said to Fenris, “You really know how to handle your sword.”
And Hawke said, “He sure does!”
And Fenris’ eyes slid to hers and his mouth tilted into a half smile
Hawke had nearly fainted from shock. But there was no one to tell! It was getting frustrating, but sneaking around was fun, too.
They’d been going at it for a few months, and everything was good. Well, as good as a person who hated mages and a mage in a secret sexual relationship could be.
But then they were somewhere below Darktown, following up on a lead on some stolen cargo, because nobody in the entire city could solve their own damn problems, and they got into a fight with the mercenaries, who –surprise- had stolen the cargo, which turned out to be living people. Hawke really had to start asking more questions before accepting missions.
Fenris just fisted one guy’s heart right out of his chest, which might not have been the wisest move, but that wasn’t her place to argue. She had a lot of dumb moves.
Hawke and Fenris ended up split up from Merrill and Varric with a crap load of enemies to finish off. With just the two of them, Hawke was down in the thick of things, right where Anders and Merrill were always telling her not to be. Could she have taken down the same amount of guys a safe distance away from their swords and daggers?
Sure.
But where was the fun in that?
She froze the mercenary in front of her and then slammed her staff into his side, breaking him into a hundred icy chunks. She blasted a few more absentmindedly, growing increasingly less cavalier as she counted how many men were still approaching.
Fenris was at her back, not slowing down one bit. He had just as many.
Time to bring in the big guns.
She waved her staff around and thumped it to the ground, beginning her lightning spell.
Fenris started muttering of his own. More Tevene curses she didn’t understand, but then, “Please, please, please don’t do that spell, please don’t.”
She stopped. Slammed the mercenaries to the ground instead and then sent them crashing across the room. She spun around to face him. “Do you have a problem with my lightning storm?”
He flicked blood off his sword. “It’s unbelievably ostentatious.”
“Ostenta-” She started incredulously. She shook her head. “Fen, I know you love a good fight but there were like fifteen guys left. I’d rather be ostentatious than dead.”
“Your force magic-” his lip curled just saying it “-finished them off just as easily. Why do you insist on being so over the top?”
Behind Fenris, a lone mercenary rose to his feet. “Because they get back up.” She flicked her staff around Fenris’ back to zap the mercenary one last time.
Fenris had the tip of his blade at her throat before their enemy even hit the ground.
“Andraste’s tits, Fenris, what’re you doing?” She knocked his sword away with her staff.
He gaped, looking from her face to his hand as if he had accidentally almost cut her head off. “You- I thought-”
“Did you think I was gonna shoot you?” She scoffed at such a ridiculous idea.
Instead of answering he whipped out a bloody rag and started cleaning his sword.
Hawke stared at him. “When have I ever hurt you?”
His mouth curled, but he wouldn’t look at her. “You haven’t.”
She spread her arms. “So what’s your problem? Fenris-”
He met her eyes. “You’re a mage-”
“By the Maker!” Why did it always come back to that? Hadn’t she proved by now that she was worlds different from his former master? “If you’re so scared of me, why have we been fucking?”
“I’m not scared of you.”
“Just everybody else who’s like me?” She shoved her staff back into its holster with more force than strictly necessary. How exactly had she expected this tryst to end? Fenris never agreed with any of her decisions on mages. It was stupid to think he felt any different about her, so why was she so upset when he expressed his feelings clearly? Clear enough to kill her.
He’d literally almost killed her because he didn’t trust her enough to believe she wouldn’t use magic against him. After years of knowing each other, and months screwing, after she’d let him hold her down-
She looked at her hands as if she’d never seen them before. She drew them into fists and brought her glare up to Fenris. “What did you think I was going to do to you?”
He looked lost for the first time since she’d known him, but it lasted only a second before his usual snarl overtook his lips. “I would be foolish not to be cautious.” He waved at the dozen men scattered in a circle around them. “Look what you can do.”
She pointed at a disembodied head on the ground. “Look what you can do! That doesn’t mean I think you’ll do the same to me. Are we not a team? Do we not trust each other?”
Before either could say anymore, Varric and Merrill ran into the room.
“There you are,” Varric said. “We found the slaves in cages. There any keys in here?”
Hawke stomped over to the guy with the biggest mouth and grabbed the key from around his neck. She strode past Fenris without looking at him. “Let’s go.”