[ That's all the encouragement Hawke needs. He takes what he is being given, pulling Fenris against his body once more to kiss him hungrily. Those words mean so much between the two of them--and it's like something is sliding into place, something familiar and strong that he'd been too far away from him for too long.
Mere seconds pass before he grips Fenris by the backs of his thighs and hefts him up off the ground, lifting him easily so capture his lips again. He isn't hesitant or gentle, but he never has been, not with Fenris. Things are never subtle where they're concerned. There's always something boiling over, whether it's anger or passion or the too-intense-to-be-entirely-healthy love they have for one another. This time, though, Hawke is clearly trying to make up for their time spent apart, and at the same time bury himself in the only place he feels truly safe. ]
[Fenris makes a soft sound against Hawke's lips as he's lifted. Part gasp, part moan. He welcomes the roughness, he always has. It makes this seem more real less likely to fade away like some sort of dream. This is something tangible.
He returns the kiss, biting and breathless, his legs curling around Hawke's waist, tightening a little, causing some much-needed friction. One hand goes around to grasp at Hawke's back, the other moves so his fingers can tangle in the man's hair. He's missed this, he's ached for it. ]
[ Hawke's arms are tight around Fenris, as if he's afraid he'll slip away otherwise, one hand around his back and the other gripping his ass. He holds him securely as they kiss, as they come together again, and feels grounded for the first time in months. He needs this, the hot press of Fenris' lips, the weight of him in his arms, the fingers tugging at his hair. And then he needs more.
His body turns and he slams Fenris against the wall, crowding his body against him as he breaks their kiss and turns his lips to the elf's neck instead. He doesn't kiss it so much as devour it, mouthing over the markings there and latching onto the flesh to suck and bite. ]
[This is familiar, and the roughness makes it all the more so. Fenris can't handle the hole in the sky, how Thedas is tearing itself apart, and Hawke's inevitable calling towards the mess. But this this he can handle. He knows how this works, he welcomes it. It's simple.
He grunts as he's slammed against the wall, levering himself against it to free his hands more to tug at Hawke's leathers, to free him of the clothing and get access to some skin. He almost growls when Hawke latches onto his neck, tilting his jawline to give him better access, the lyrium beginning to grow faintly, reacting to his surging emotions. ]
[ A few moments are spent in this position, with Hawke biting and sucking and taking what's offered to him. He'll never be over the sense of pride he feels that he's the one Fenris is baring his throat to, surrendering to-- Sure, it's good for his ego, but it's also, paradoxically, rather humbling. He knows what he is being given, just how much had to be overcome to get to this point, and he will never take that lightly.
He finishes the mark he'd been making on Fenris' throat and soothes it with his tongue, only to start on a matching one right beside it. Fenris never leaves one of these sessions without a few bruises--some visible to the eyes of others, some not so much. He feels the elf start to pull at the collar of his tunic and makes an impatient sound, then moves them once again, this time pushing Fenris down onto the nearby table. A few of the items that had been on its surface are knocked askew, and he's fairly sure one of them landed on the floor and broke, but he doesn't care.
Instead, he focuses on getting Fenris undressed from the waist up, sliding his hands underneath his shirt to push it up and reveal more skin for him to devour. ]
[Fenris wears the bruises with some sense of pride. These are not the marks that another man once left on him. Marks of absolute possession. These mean something, they hold more love and respect that he ever thought he could be given.
He grunts as he is moved onto the table, muttering something in Tevene, his grasping hands sliding to Hawke's ass, roughly pulling him closer, his hips rising to meet him, desperate for friction, for more. It's always like this, the desire climbing to the point where he feels he can't breathe without it. Without Hawke. It's all consuming, and he wouldn't change a thing. ]
[ If there's anything that turns Hawke on more than being aggressive with Fenris, it's when Fenris is aggressive right back. He meets him easily, rutting against him as he works the shirt off, then tosses it away quickly so he can drag his hands roughly over the newly bared skin.
His own clothes are starting to feel stuffy, so he finishes what Fenris had been working on and yanks the fastenings on the tunic the rest of the way open. He doesn't push it off quite yet, though, instead leaning in for one more hard kiss before he pushes Fenris to lie on his back on the table.
He leans over him, pressing his mouth against all the areas he can reach, starting with the sharp jut of the elf's ribcage--has he lost weight? he has definitely lost weight, that's concerning--and down his abdomen. His hands find Fenris' hips and grip them tightly, keeping him steady and grounding himself at the same time. ]
[Fenris really isn't the best at looking after himself, it seems. Still, his hips tense as he strains against Hawke's hands, fighting him every step of the way, always demanding more, always raising the bar. Never compliant.
His own hands move to Hawke's shoulders, sliding under the tunic, nails dragging along the bare skin there, no gentleness to his movements. It's part fuelled by desire, part fuelled by the frustration of Hawke leaving him, of going into untold danger and not allowing him to follow. ]
[ The scratches on his skin are sharp and painful in a satisfying way--like picking at a scab, or a digging your fingernails into the gums around your teeth--and they just stoke the fire that's already burning under Hawke's skin. He leans down to kiss all over Fenris' chest and abdomen, biting down on the sharp angle of his hip. ]
Fuck, love, you're so thin... [ He's mumbling in between his kisses. ] Shit. Come here. [ He leans forward, pulling Fenris down a bit so he's firmly in between his legs, and drags the elf's face up for another hard kiss, bending him in half. He continues mumbling as he kisses over Fenris' jaw next, absently rutting against his ass through the layers of clothing they're still wearing in a mimicry of the act to come. ]
[Fenris lets out a soft, annoyed exhale. He could say he's been much thinner, in the days Hadriana would take his plate out of his hands before he could have so much as a mouthful, or when he was on the run, often without a coin to his name, having to live off whatever he managed to hunt down or pluck from the ground. He knows, though, that it isn't a disparaging comment, that it comes from concern. ]
I'm fine, Hawke.
[This, as far as he's concerned, is not the time, and makes that point clear by grabbing Hawke's ass roughly, pulling him down onto him, shifting his hips to meet him. There would be time for talking later, Fenris has many concerns of his own. For now, though, he wants this, needs this. A solid reminder that even if things are getting consistently worse, they still have each other.
He shifts his head, catching Hawke into another kiss, rough and desperate, only pulling away to bite at the man's lower lip, narrowing his eyes in challenge. ]
[ For a moment he's perfectly content to be dragged down for another kiss, and groans when he feels Fenris' teeth, rising to the bait easily. There'd been a dangerous moment in which Hawke had almost let words start to slip out, after all, and it's not the time for that. They're still too tangled up inside him, unintelligible, crunched in the tightly wound emotions that desperately need unraveling.
He can think of one great way to do that.
His arms surround Fenris and he lifts him up one final time, this time bringing him to the bed in the corner of the room. It's a bit small, but they've definitely worked with worse in the past. He sets his lover down upon it with a surprising amount of gentleness.
Once Fenris is laid down on the mattress Hawke straightens up to finally remove the rest of his clothes, his movements quick, discarding each layer carelessly on the ground. ]
[Fenris is unaware, just how close he came to the truth. He likely wouldn't have stopped if he was. He knows he needs to hear it, that they need to have that conversation, and he will likely not enjoy what he will be told. And that's why he needs this now. This one piece of surety before everything is changed.
He moves into a sitting position while Hawke undresses, hands moving to his sides, mouthing over the man's abdomen, teeth scraping across skin, impatient. ]
[ Hawke takes a moment then, allows himself to enjoy the hot mouth against his skin, to hiss softly when he feels teeth. His fingers drag through Fenris' hair before knotting in it and tugging his head back for another bruising kiss. Then he's moving onto the bed with him, pushing him back against the mattress, never disconnecting their lips for even a second. His hands move under Fenris' hips to tug his leggings over them and down his thighs, and then to hastily undo his own pants and pull out his cock.
There's an oil lamp nearby that's half full, and he nearly knocks it over as he grabs for it and sticks his fingers in the reservoir. There's just enough to slick himself up, to make it so this won't be impossible. Then he's grabbing Fenris' hips again and pulling him close, lining himself up. ]
[Fenris kisses him with the hunger of a man starved for months. He's ached for Hawke, for his touch, his smell, his everything. He has been increasingly tightly wound, during their absence, and now he can let himself go, little by little. Release the tension that has built up inside him.
His own hands move to Hawke's shoulders, pawing at them, urging him onwards. He breaks their kiss only to rest his forehead against his lover's, a gesture of acceptance, of askance, to continue.]
[ It's those small gestures that signal to Hawke how Fenris is doing, that he's feeling safe and in the moment and isn't in danger of slipping away. He's sure of that now-- Just not so sure about himself.
One of his hands moves to gently cup the side of Fenris' face while the other is down in between their bodies, guiding his cock into the elf's body at last. He exhales, driving out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as the familiar sensation grips him.
Once his hand is free he braces it on the mattress, and he keeps their eyes locked as he slowly eases more of himself in. Once he's as deep as he can get he stills, head falling forward slightly onto his lover's shoulder, his own shoulders trembling. ]
[Fenris lets out a low groan as Hawke enters him. He welcomes the strain on his muscles, it's a fair trade to feel so filled and complete again. He realises how much he's missed this.
He wraps his legs around Hawke's waist, his fingers tangling roughly in the man's hair. He tilts his head, brushing his nose up against Hawke's ear, breathing in the scent of him. Sweat and leather, marks of hard work, marks of a warrior. The fingers in his hair tighten, a silent urge to go on. ]
[ For a moment it's almost too much. He'd missed Fenris so much he'd ached--and now here he is, in his arms and under him and around him, and Hawke feels his throat clench with emotion. It's real. He's real. We're here and together and alive.
He presses a hot kiss against Fenris' neck and then starts to move, snapping his hips roughly, not easing into it at all. Hawke's mouth lingers near Fenris' neck and he bites down on it occasionally as he thrusts, almost mindlessly, his breaths harsh and uneven. ]
[Fenris lets out a noise that's part growl, part moan. His legs tighten, keeping him close, pulling him in with each and every snap of his hips. His hands move, dragging nails roughly down Hawke's back, clawing at him like a wild animal, in kind for the more than welcome bites to his neck.
It hurts, and he knows it will hurt more in the morning, but he doesn't care. He would glad have every bruise, every aching muscle ten times over, if it meant Hawke remained with him. ]
[ It's not unlike their first time together, when Hawke had been almost delirious with desire, desperate to take every inch of Fenris he was allowed. He'd felt so guilty then, worried that his passion and force had hurt Fenris irreparably, and it had haunted him for three years until their reunion.
Now, he knows he doesn't have to feel that way. The nails digging into his flesh remind him that Fenris feels all the fire he does, and he welcomes the sharp pain, craves it. He growls and continues the brutal pace of his thrusts, causing the bed to rock and creak below them. ]
[That was such a long time ago, and Fenris himself thought he was damaged beyond repair. Not by Hawke, never by Hawke. His own fragmented memories, his own past trauma, that had turned on him. He thought himself a fool, and a stubborn one afterwards, for taking so long to admit how he truly felt. How every part of him ached for Hawke, how he ached only for Hawke.
The elf's toes curl at the sensation his heels digging into Hawke's lower back, one hand still on his back, the other tangling roughly in his hair, pulling his head back so the elf can bite at the man's throat and jaw. The lyrium once again flares, bright and angry as the elf himself. ]
Fenris. [ The name is ground out of his throat , punctuated by a low groan as Fenris' teeth scrape at his skin. Every kiss and bite helps to wake him up again, energy wild and prickling under his skin, through his muscles, in his bones.
Hawke turns his head and captures Fenris' mouth again, kissing him hard and sloppy before he straightens his body into a standing position. He hoists Fenris' legs up and then moves, pounding into him even harder, even faster. The sight of the elf's body splayed beneath him, alight with the lyrium in his skin, drives him faster and faster toward release. ]
[Fenris responds to his name with something like a growl, all challenge and ferociousness, like the animal he was named after. He wants more, pushes for more, doesn't rest or pause for breath.
When Hawke moves him, his hands move to steady himself on the bed, fingers grasping at the edges for leverage and support as the man drives into him. He moans, hoarse and throaty as the bed slams into the wall, desperate for his own release as much as he wants this to go on. ]
[ Hawke hoists Fenris' legs up onto his shoulders and braces his hands on the edge of the bed, moving at a brutal pace. He can't keep his eyes off Fenris--off the lines of his body, the expressions on his face, the way his hair fans out around his head. He's so beautiful it makes Hawke's throat clench up sometimes, just hits him so hard he reels for a second, wonders how this ever happened. How is he here, right now, alive and with this indescribably precious person unraveling beneath him--
He lets out a startled moan as he feels his climax build--and he wants to hold it back, wants this to go on, dreads the conversation he has to have after. So he slows just a bit, leaning down and bending Fenris' body in half so he can kiss him. ]
[Fenris gives a frustrated groan into the kiss, feeling Hawke slow, pulling him back from the edge he was very willing to crumble over. One hand moves to tangle roughly in Hawke's hair, tugging a little to vent his frustration. He uses their closeness to push up against him, trying to force some friction, anything. When he speaks, it's with his lips close to Hawke's, his voice horse and deep. ]
[ There it is, that fire, that thing that bends Fenris' beauty out of delicate territory and into something fierce and dangerous. Hawke grins then, welcoming the slight pain that comes from having his hair pulled, enjoying the deliciously needy way Fenris squirms beneath him. ]
As if I could say no to you.
[ He obeys then, snapping his hips hard, his movements erratic. The grin slips from his face and he lets out a groan, then reaches down to grasp his partner's cock in one hand to jerk it roughly. ] Come on, love.
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Mere seconds pass before he grips Fenris by the backs of his thighs and hefts him up off the ground, lifting him easily so capture his lips again. He isn't hesitant or gentle, but he never has been, not with Fenris. Things are never subtle where they're concerned. There's always something boiling over, whether it's anger or passion or the too-intense-to-be-entirely-healthy love they have for one another. This time, though, Hawke is clearly trying to make up for their time spent apart, and at the same time bury himself in the only place he feels truly safe. ]
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He returns the kiss, biting and breathless, his legs curling around Hawke's waist, tightening a little, causing some much-needed friction. One hand goes around to grasp at Hawke's back, the other moves so his fingers can tangle in the man's hair. He's missed this, he's ached for it. ]
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His body turns and he slams Fenris against the wall, crowding his body against him as he breaks their kiss and turns his lips to the elf's neck instead. He doesn't kiss it so much as devour it, mouthing over the markings there and latching onto the flesh to suck and bite. ]
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He grunts as he's slammed against the wall, levering himself against it to free his hands more to tug at Hawke's leathers, to free him of the clothing and get access to some skin. He almost growls when Hawke latches onto his neck, tilting his jawline to give him better access, the lyrium beginning to grow faintly, reacting to his surging emotions. ]
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He finishes the mark he'd been making on Fenris' throat and soothes it with his tongue, only to start on a matching one right beside it. Fenris never leaves one of these sessions without a few bruises--some visible to the eyes of others, some not so much. He feels the elf start to pull at the collar of his tunic and makes an impatient sound, then moves them once again, this time pushing Fenris down onto the nearby table. A few of the items that had been on its surface are knocked askew, and he's fairly sure one of them landed on the floor and broke, but he doesn't care.
Instead, he focuses on getting Fenris undressed from the waist up, sliding his hands underneath his shirt to push it up and reveal more skin for him to devour. ]
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He grunts as he is moved onto the table, muttering something in Tevene, his grasping hands sliding to Hawke's ass, roughly pulling him closer, his hips rising to meet him, desperate for friction, for more. It's always like this, the desire climbing to the point where he feels he can't breathe without it. Without Hawke. It's all consuming, and he wouldn't change a thing. ]
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His own clothes are starting to feel stuffy, so he finishes what Fenris had been working on and yanks the fastenings on the tunic the rest of the way open. He doesn't push it off quite yet, though, instead leaning in for one more hard kiss before he pushes Fenris to lie on his back on the table.
He leans over him, pressing his mouth against all the areas he can reach, starting with the sharp jut of the elf's ribcage--has he lost weight? he has definitely lost weight, that's concerning--and down his abdomen. His hands find Fenris' hips and grip them tightly, keeping him steady and grounding himself at the same time. ]
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His own hands move to Hawke's shoulders, sliding under the tunic, nails dragging along the bare skin there, no gentleness to his movements. It's part fuelled by desire, part fuelled by the frustration of Hawke leaving him, of going into untold danger and not allowing him to follow. ]
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Fuck, love, you're so thin... [ He's mumbling in between his kisses. ] Shit. Come here. [ He leans forward, pulling Fenris down a bit so he's firmly in between his legs, and drags the elf's face up for another hard kiss, bending him in half. He continues mumbling as he kisses over Fenris' jaw next, absently rutting against his ass through the layers of clothing they're still wearing in a mimicry of the act to come. ]
Maker-- I missed you...
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I'm fine, Hawke.
[This, as far as he's concerned, is not the time, and makes that point clear by grabbing Hawke's ass roughly, pulling him down onto him, shifting his hips to meet him. There would be time for talking later, Fenris has many concerns of his own. For now, though, he wants this, needs this. A solid reminder that even if things are getting consistently worse, they still have each other.
He shifts his head, catching Hawke into another kiss, rough and desperate, only pulling away to bite at the man's lower lip, narrowing his eyes in challenge. ]
You had best show me just how much, then.
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He can think of one great way to do that.
His arms surround Fenris and he lifts him up one final time, this time bringing him to the bed in the corner of the room. It's a bit small, but they've definitely worked with worse in the past. He sets his lover down upon it with a surprising amount of gentleness.
Once Fenris is laid down on the mattress Hawke straightens up to finally remove the rest of his clothes, his movements quick, discarding each layer carelessly on the ground. ]
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He moves into a sitting position while Hawke undresses, hands moving to his sides, mouthing over the man's abdomen, teeth scraping across skin, impatient. ]
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There's an oil lamp nearby that's half full, and he nearly knocks it over as he grabs for it and sticks his fingers in the reservoir. There's just enough to slick himself up, to make it so this won't be impossible. Then he's grabbing Fenris' hips again and pulling him close, lining himself up. ]
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His own hands move to Hawke's shoulders, pawing at them, urging him onwards. He breaks their kiss only to rest his forehead against his lover's, a gesture of acceptance, of askance, to continue.]
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One of his hands moves to gently cup the side of Fenris' face while the other is down in between their bodies, guiding his cock into the elf's body at last. He exhales, driving out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as the familiar sensation grips him.
Once his hand is free he braces it on the mattress, and he keeps their eyes locked as he slowly eases more of himself in. Once he's as deep as he can get he stills, head falling forward slightly onto his lover's shoulder, his own shoulders trembling. ]
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He wraps his legs around Hawke's waist, his fingers tangling roughly in the man's hair. He tilts his head, brushing his nose up against Hawke's ear, breathing in the scent of him. Sweat and leather, marks of hard work, marks of a warrior. The fingers in his hair tighten, a silent urge to go on. ]
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He presses a hot kiss against Fenris' neck and then starts to move, snapping his hips roughly, not easing into it at all. Hawke's mouth lingers near Fenris' neck and he bites down on it occasionally as he thrusts, almost mindlessly, his breaths harsh and uneven. ]
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It hurts, and he knows it will hurt more in the morning, but he doesn't care. He would glad have every bruise, every aching muscle ten times over, if it meant Hawke remained with him. ]
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Now, he knows he doesn't have to feel that way. The nails digging into his flesh remind him that Fenris feels all the fire he does, and he welcomes the sharp pain, craves it. He growls and continues the brutal pace of his thrusts, causing the bed to rock and creak below them. ]
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The elf's toes curl at the sensation his heels digging into Hawke's lower back, one hand still on his back, the other tangling roughly in his hair, pulling his head back so the elf can bite at the man's throat and jaw. The lyrium once again flares, bright and angry as the elf himself. ]
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Hawke turns his head and captures Fenris' mouth again, kissing him hard and sloppy before he straightens his body into a standing position. He hoists Fenris' legs up and then moves, pounding into him even harder, even faster. The sight of the elf's body splayed beneath him, alight with the lyrium in his skin, drives him faster and faster toward release. ]
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When Hawke moves him, his hands move to steady himself on the bed, fingers grasping at the edges for leverage and support as the man drives into him. He moans, hoarse and throaty as the bed slams into the wall, desperate for his own release as much as he wants this to go on. ]
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He lets out a startled moan as he feels his climax build--and he wants to hold it back, wants this to go on, dreads the conversation he has to have after. So he slows just a bit, leaning down and bending Fenris' body in half so he can kiss him. ]
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Fasta vass, move, damnit.
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As if I could say no to you.
[ He obeys then, snapping his hips hard, his movements erratic. The grin slips from his face and he lets out a groan, then reaches down to grasp his partner's cock in one hand to jerk it roughly. ] Come on, love.
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