Chapter Text
Fenris sighs as he sinks into the welcoming embrace of his bath. The water is a little too hot, stinging the already sore ridges of skin that meet the lines of his markings, but the heat soon soothes his aching muscles; it is an acceptable compromise.
His eyes are heavy, fluttering to a close, followed by the sound of water sloshing over the side of the bath when Fenris jolts himself away from the edge of sleep. He nods again a few more times, each time jolting awake as his chin touches the water.
It says much about how his life has changed that he can afford the luxury of such moments of relaxation. He’s still haunted of course. Sometimes all it takes is a sound, a scent, a touch, a memory, to send him to a state of high alert. His markings reacting to stress and strain even when his mind is calm. Fenris often resents how he cannot control those parts of himself, how the past still holds him in its cruel grip.
But he’s had years of a safe home, of being the hunter not the hunted. Fenris is now long accustomed to having control over his body and mind, and the course of his life.
Letting himself sink deeper into the bath, Fenris releases the tension in his arms and allows them to float upward. Slowly he tips his head back, dipping below the surface. The roar of water in his ears blissfully drowns out his thoughts.
Until a muffled sound startles him and he sits up. He’s disorientated for a few heartbeats, keen ears ringing until he shakes the water out.
The sound was nothing to fear, he finds. It was only Hawke barrelling into their bathroom to excitedly tell him about her day. She’s sitting on the counter-top swinging her legs back and forth whilst idly chatting, her face lit up with a sunny grin.
“How was your day?” She asks him once she finally takes a breath. “If you want, I can put some of your salve on your back for you when you’re done? Or…we could…” She gives him an appraising look, a playful warmth lighting up her fire-bright eyes.
The suggestion beneath Hawke’s words is but a playful flirtation. Unless Fenris wishes otherwise. Even so, with her attention on him - naked in the bath - Fenris feels exposed. His skin prickles uncomfortably with the heat and the steam and her gaze. He can see no reason to hide himself from Hawke, nor does he desire to. There’s years of trust between them, well-earned. Of comfort and warmth and sunshine to chase shadows away. Fenris gathers up the bath bubbles to cover himself anyway.
“Oh,” Hawke says as she hops down from the counter. “Here I am waffling on about my day and you’re trying to have a nice relaxing moment…” She pauses. “Is there something wrong? Do you want me to leave?”
Fenris was having a moment. A practice in relaxation, in letting himself float and let go. He wanted to muffle the noise of the world around him, just for a little while.
“I’d prefer if you would knock first,” Fenris tells her.
Hawke nods, “Of course, I wasn’t thinking.” She chews on her lower lip. “I’ll let you get back to your relaxing. But call me if you want me to put the salve on for you when you’re done.”
Fenris nods. It’s not that he minds Hawke’s presence exactly. He actually rather enjoys listening to her, how animated she is when she talks about her day. How avidly she listens when he talks about his.
“Hawke, wait. You…interrupted me, and I would prefer if you’d knock next time. But…stay?”
Hawke hovers with her hand on the door, then spins on her heels to face him.
“I’d enjoy your company.” Fenris gestures to the bath.
“I thought you didn’t want me intruding on your alone time?” She asks.
A moment ago, he didn’t. But in the total absence of obligation, and in the face of Hawke’s total acceptance of his boundaries and his wishes, Fenris feels emboldened. He wants precisely because he does not have to.
“No, I didn't. However…” Fenris says, thoughts knotted behind his lips. “I want you to stay, but only because I asked you to leave." He chuckles softly. "A contradiction, I'm aware.”
She frowns, but her fingers dance playfully across the countertop. “That is a little confusing." She shrugs. "But maybe it takes the pressure off?”
He’s always felt like that with Hawke, as though her demeanour lifts a weight from his shoulders, one he carried for as long as he can remember. Before that, even.
In her presence he feels able to take up space with his own wants and feelings in a way he never had before. And he suspects she doesn’t even know the power she wields, this skill she has, the space she holds for others.
“Yes, perhaps.”
Fenris knows the way people have often looked at him – a weapon, a tool, an object of fear or desire or intimidation - or worst of all, a victim to be pitied. He felt pride in the way others looked at him once, because once upon a time that was all he had. Now the very thought makes him feel sick.
But that is not how she looks at him.
Whether her eyes land on his skin with the heat of desire or a gentler kind of warmth, Hawke sees Fenris. The person underneath the shell of armour and the shapes carved into him. She wants him, to know him, to be with him, to love him, and she wants only what he is willing to give. The utter freedom he feels when she looks at him once terrified him. Now though, it makes him want her all the more.
The way Hawke's looking at him right now makes Fenris feel like he could fly.
“You like to feel in control,” she says with a knowing smirk.
Fenris notices that she does not phrase it as a question. Though he supposes she is not wrong.
“Yes.”
He sits up in the bath. The air in the room has changed, it feels charged between them, electric, pulling at him like the lyrium under his skin.
“Want to feel a little more in control?” Hawke leans back casually against the counter and crosses her arms. She appears as relaxed as she would be if they were having a conversation about the weather, and not…whatever this is.
“What exactly did you have in mind?” Fenris asks, curiosity kindling a fire in him.
Hawke picks at the leather of the belt around her waist, a hint of blush spreads across her sun-bronzed cheeks.
“Let’s see - you could...tell me what to do? That could be something like, 'Please leave the bathroom Ash, I want to finish my bath in peace.' Or it could be something like, 'Take off all your clothes and bend over.'”
Fenris suppresses a bark of surprised laughter at that. He chuckles awkwardly, then coughs to clear his throat. “And to be clear…you would enjoy this...game?” He asks.
“Yes,” she says and unfolds her arms. “Actually, I’m pretty sure I’d enjoy it quite a bit.”
Fenris nods and Hawke takes that as a cue to continue.
“Of course, if there was anything you asked of me that I didn’t want to do, I’d just say no.”
“And then we would stop,” Fenris confirms.
His skin is singing to him now, all those sore places coming alight with a different kind of fire.
“Yes.” Hawke comes closer and kneels at the edge of the bathtub. “Same with you - you want to stop any time, just say ‘stop’ and we stop.”
Fenris reaches out and she shuffles closer to touch her fingertips to his. He laces their fingers together - her calloused skin is warm; she is soft and rough in the best of ways.
“Alright,” Fenris whispers.
Hawke looks up at him, smiling with the full force of the sun.
“Alright,” she repeats.
Fenris lets go of her hand, and he is so aware of his heart beating in his chest when he tells her, “Come here, kiss me.”
She leans up to kiss him, sweet and tender, followed by the barest brush of lips. After, she lingers there not quite touching but so close Fenris can feel the heat of her breath, taste her want on his tongue.
His own arousal is building, but he holds himself back. Pushing away that part of his mind that’s screaming at him to stop playing this game and devour her.
He hesitates, uncertain of his next move. Until he notices Hawke’s tight grip on the edge of the bathtub. He’s not the only one holding back it seems; anticipation gnawing at her as she waits for his next command.
Of course, Fenris knows that Hawke is beholden to no one, has never bowed down to anyone. She is a force to be reckoned with and Fenris has long admired her for it.
Fenris could no more command Hawke to do anything than he could command the sun itself to rise. She shines regardless.
“Now take off your clothes,” he tells her.
Fenris leans back against the wall of the bath, pleased with how she rushes to respond. After pulling off her belt with a snap and loosening her trousers, Hawke rises to her feet and frees herself of her jacket.
“No,” Fenris interrupts, his lips curving into a self-satisfied grin. “Stay on the floor.”
“And don't just throw your clothes on the floor, put them in the basket,” he tells her when she starts throwing her clothes aside with abandon. At his command, she bends over to gather up her discarded garments, giving Fenris an excellent view.
Now he’s getting the hang of it.
She moves slowly after that, with purposeful movements, flinging each item into the basket with a fiery glint in her eye and her lips pouted in mock concentration. Then Hawke sits back on her ass and finally pulls her tunic over her head; her breasts are bare underneath.
Her body is a familiar sight to him, but that does not stop that sense of wonder each time he beholds her. This private, unguarded Hawke. Battle-scarred and soft without her armour.
Fenris sits up and adjusts himself, the blood rushing between his legs. Hawke leans up and glances at his erection protruding from the bubbles in the bath, one of her thick brows arched and a smirk playing on her lips.
In her presence, Fenris feels emboldened, playful, more at ease than he ever thought he could be.
“And keep your eyes on my face, Hawke,” he says. “No...peeking.”
Hawke groans and pouts but she keeps her eyes focused on his, her bright gaze burning into him.
“Good,” he tells her.
She lets out a filthy moan at his praise. His cock twitches and he strokes himself beneath the water.
Fenris is no stranger to speaking his mind…but this? Stating his intimate desires out loud… commanding Hawke to follow them. It is uncomfortable and thrilling in equal measure.
“If you are…good...” he tries, the phrasing strange on his tongue.
Hawke is hanging on to his words. It's encouraging.
“Then I will allow you to…do far more than look.”
“Fuucckk,” she breathes out.
“But you must be quiet.”
She bites her lip and nods.
“Now come here…stay on your knees.”
She walks on her knees, until she’s close enough to rest her breasts on the edge of the bath.
Fenris bends down and kisses her chest, looking up for her approval, watching for her reaction. Hawke is heavy-lidded, pupils large in her amber eyes like an eclipse over the sun.
He takes a nipple into his mouth and sucks gently; a quiet whimper escapes her. Though she’s given no indication she wishes to stop, he wants to be certain.
“Do you like that?”
She nods.
Fenris tenses at her silence.
“I’d like it if…You can speak when I ask you a question,” he says. Fenris leans into her, his nose brushes hers and she nuzzles his face in return.
“Yes. I like it,” she groans. “I like you being like this.”
Fenris can taste her smile when he kisses her.
“Good.” He bends down to her breast again and this time sucks a little harder before kissing the hardened bud of her nipple.
Hawke grips the edge of the bath again and pants out his name under her breath as he sucks and laps at her, “Fenris.”
When Fenris releases her, Hawke stumbles back. He supresses the instinct to reach out and catch her, and she rights herself with a breathless laugh. Hawke - a women who has, with stealth, skill, and strength, taken down armies at his side – clumsily falls back on her ass and winks mischievously.
“What do you want?” he asks her.
She looks up at him from the floor, her expression so open and honest when she says, “Whatever you want Fen.”
A sharp uneasy twinge pulls in Fenris’ gut.
“No, Hawke, what do you want? He says softly. “What is it you desire?”
Hawke’s look hardens; there’s that fire in her eyes Fenris wanted to see.
Still on her knees, she leans back so he can see her, her fingers dig into her parted thighs leaving little pressure marks in her amber skin. Fenris’ gaze wanders up to the thick curls of her black pubic hair, to the trail that leads to the softness of her belly. He bites his lip to stop himself from groaning.
Down on the floor before him, Hawke slowly shifts her stance wider, her leg muscles tense and the generous flesh of her hips and inner thighs ripple when she moves.
Hawke is strong and soft, both powerful and gentle. Fenris admires her utter confidence in her physical self, with no hint of vanity. She is beautiful in the way that a sunrise is - a woman warm and bright, and sharp as sunlight itself, and just as effortless. She does not try to be anything she is not, and yet she is, as always, a contradiction.
On her knees for him, and yet totally in control of herself.
Hawke waits, until he meets her golden gaze again. Then slowly she speaks with a wicked wonderful smile dancing in her eyes.
“What I want? With you looking at me like that?”
Under the water Fenris reaches for his cock, conscious of the way Hawke continues to watch his face. Fenris finds that he welcomes it. He lets his eyes flicker shut as he slowly strokes himself. Then he stops and squeezes the base of his cock.
He nods at Hawke, urging her to continue. “Tell me.”
She moans softly. “I want to…ride you, Maker.” Hawke moves, raking her fingers up her thighs as she speaks. “I want your mouth on me. I want to ride your cock and look down to watch you move in and out of me.”
He pictures that for a moment - her, moving over him, wet and soft. He imagines burying his tongue in her, his fingers, his cock. Letting himself be swept up in her ocean. Oh, how he wishes for it.
“But…right now, Fen, unless you want to stop playing, what I really want is for you to tell me what to do. Boss me about a bit. Show me what you want.” She laughs and her thumbs brush higher, closer to the apex of her thighs.
Fenris wills her to keep going, wants to see her own fingers dip between folds of her flesh.
He bites his lip, harder this time. The blood is pulsing, in his ears, between his legs, and he fights the urge to take himself in hand until he spills right here in front of her and into the bath water. He could. The shame he would feel would be unfounded; he is safe with Hawke.
But truly, he is enjoying this game far too much for it to end so soon, and he is aching to see where it will go.
“Now you may look,” Fenris says.
She leans up on her knees and looks down at him over the rim of the bathtub. He's pushed away the bath bubbles to reveal his hardened cock, gripped tight in his fist with the foreskin pulled back, the head flushed and swollen and shining from the water. Hawke groans again and sucks her lip. Fenris chuckles, a little breathless and loosens his grip.
Feeling bolder now, he tilts his chin down, his own words coming out heavy, curling deep in the back of his throat. “Now...touch yourself until you come. Can you do that?”
Hawke’s eyes widen for a moment then her face crinkles with that sun-bright smile of hers.
“Fuck yes,” she says, her top lip curled, her lower one plush and rouged from biting.
And those fingers...those fingers Fenris had been so avidly watching earlier are climbing higher, reaching the parting of her thighs. With one hand Hawke spreads herself open, revealing a flash of soft flesh, darkened with arousal. With the other hand she lightly teases at her swollen and exposed clit – a quick glance up to check Fenris is watching - before her fingers dart down to dip inside.
She lowers her gaze to watch herself as back and forth her fingers glide, stroking up to her clit, then down again to finger herself. Her face scrunched in concentration, eyelashes shuddering.
Fenris clears his throat. “And do not take your eyes away from my face,” he tells her.
She whines in pretend annoyance, but her face is rapt with pleasure when she turns up to look at him. Her mouth open now, little huffs of breath escaping her in time with the rhythm of her fingers as she rubs faster circles around her clit.
“Is this...?” He asks.
“Yes,” she says without hesitance. “I'm so wet.” Venhedis he can hear how wet she is.
She stops moving her fingers, and slowly, ever so slowly rocks on her knees. “You?” She asks him.
“Yes, I am enjoying this. Keep going.”
After that, Hawke touches herself again, all the while looking at him. Faster and faster she rubs herself until she comes with a shudder and a gasp, closing her eyes only at the last moment.
“Come here,” Fenris says as he sits up on his knees and spreads his legs for balance. Urgent all of a sudden to close the distance between them.
She's unsteady on her legs after finding her pleasure, after coming undone hanging onto Fenris’ gaze and his every word – it’s a satisfying thought.
But as Hawke approaches the bath, a knot of cold tension coils in Fenris’ belly. Suddenly everything feels too big, too bright. Something is off, something is wrong, something he cannot put his finger on.
Hawke frowns. “Fen, what is it?” She crouches down beside the bath.
“I am...unsure. A feeling.”
“We can stop.”
“I made a promise, you fulfilled your end of the bargain.”
Ah, that is it.
“Hmm. I think...that may be why,” Fenris says.
Hawke rests her chin on her hands, idly she swirls her finger in the bath water, flicking bubbles. “Just because you make a promise like that doesn't mean you have to do it. We don't have to do anything we don't both feel totally comfortable with.”
He can feel his cheeks heating with embarrassment. “I don't want to disappoint you.”
“Well, I was good,” she says with a laugh. Fenris shakes his head, a small grin pulling at his lips, but that knot in his stomach remains.
“But I'd be more disappointed if you carried on and felt uncomfortable. I promise, I only want to do that if it’s fun for you too.”
More than a decade of friendship, of loving and longing, of fighting battles at one another’s side. And at the end of it all, here she is - a force of nature, as vibrant as ever - opening herself for him. Wanting him. Holding space for him.
She is so close and still he aches for her, soul-deep and raw. It is almost unbearable.
“I do want to fuck you.”
“Hmmm,” she purrs. “But on your terms, right? Not because it’s the rules of the game.”
He considers her point. “Yes. Perhaps I should not have promised such a... reward.”
Hawke leans her chin on the edge of the bath and looks up at him. “Well, we can remember that for next time.”
Fenris raises his brow at that, feeling a spark of excitement alongside the nerves in his belly at the thought of trying this again in the future.
But now, he just wants Hawke.
“Kiss me again?” He asks her.
Hawke’s smile is gentle as she leans forward and kisses him softly. Her lips are so warm against his compared to the water around him that has started to cool.
“But we’re not playing now?” The question rumbles against her parted lips and he breathes in the scent of her. The tension in his shoulders eases a little.
“Not unless you want to,” she manages to say, her words muffled between their kisses. Her tongue is hot, curling achingly slow in his mouth, so soft against his.
He hums an agreeable sound into her then pulls away from warm skin and the taste of her.
“I got to come, and you didn't,” she says, almost petulantly as Fenris is wrapping his hand in her hair to bring her close again, wet fingers tangling in her.
He’s not hard anymore but can feel his interest start to stir again as he runs his lips across her brow, an almost-kiss to taste the faint salty tang of her sweat and breathe the scent of her arousal.
“Do you want me to do anything for you? Not a game, no reason, just because I want to.” Her voice is low and rasping and so earnest; it is…more than tempting.
He thinks on it. But there’s still an uncomfortable pinch low in his belly and his heart thrumming like the pounding of a marching drum in his chest.
Fenris clears his throat to compose himself and tilts his chin to look her in the eye.
Hawke gulps.
“I think the moment has passed for now, but would you like to join me? Considering you’ve already taken your clothes off, and the bath is big enough for two.”
Her face breaks in a grin as bright as the sun when it breaks the dawn.
“Yes,” she nods emphatically, “I'd love to.”
Fenris shuffles back so there's enough space between his legs. His back meets the cool ceramic of the bathtub.
Hawke gets with none of the grace she shows on the battlefield. He laughs when she wriggles her ass in his face, and he reaches out to smooth his hands down her sides when she lowers herself to sit between his legs. His palms come to rest on the soft swell of her hips.
Once she has settled, Fenris strokes up her sides, then rubs his thumbs into her shoulders to massage her. Even as his arousal fades, he marvels at the electric feeling of her skin, her contented groans of pleasure-pain as he touches her.
They stay like that for a while, revelling in loving touch and the satisfaction of being close, so unguarded. Fenris’ chin rests on her shoulder as she relaxes against him. He presses his lips to her pulse point, followed by another slow, wet kiss to the gnarled scar on her shoulder. His hands find her waist, and she strokes his fingers with her own under the water, encouraging his slow exploration of her body. His thumbs brush the underneath of her breasts, his palms cup her soft belly.
He could touch her like this for hours - if only the water wasn’t wrinkling their skin and starting to turn uncomfortably cold. But still, Fenris is reluctant to get up; from this angle he can watch the way the bath water laps at her nipples.
“Beautiful,” he mutters sleepily and buries his face in her neck again.
Hawke responds with a hum and arches her back against him, pressing herself closer without crushing his half-hard cock in the space between them.
“I think we should take this to the bedroom before the bath water turns us into prunes.”
“A sensible suggestion.” Fenris lets out a soft chuckle. “Do you mean to sleep, or…?”
Hawke turns – awkward in such a small space - to face him. “Well, I’m not tired yet, but only if you -”
Fenris kisses her before she can finish, surging forward and pulling her into his lap. He slides down awkwardly and her knees bump into his hips. At one point she almost slips face-first into the water. He holds her wrists tight to steady her.
“I want you Hawke,” he pants. “But not here.”
She leaps up, bath water sloshing over the edge and onto the floor.
“Let me grab us some towels.”