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Description
Dragon Age II Fan Fiction
But I am Here
started 2/18/14
slightly suggestive
The crackle of the fireplace usually calmed Eliza Hawke’s typically jittered nerves. Today was different, though. Now, the pop and sizzle of the logs burning away only highlighted her absolute loneliness and pain.
She sat on her four-post, king sized bed, facing the eerily chilled fireplace. Her arms held each other, her cold fingers digging into her flesh as she tried desperately to feel anything.
Yet, despite ripping holes in her robes and even drawing blood, Hawke felt nothing.
“I failed everyone.” She whispered, her dark brown eyes staring blankly into the fire’s dancing flames.
“Is that what you think?”
The rogue was not used to being the victim in a sneak attack, so needless to say, his voice caused her to jump out of her skin. Her heart hammering like a bird in her chest, Hawke turned her head sharply. Her chocolate brown, wavy hair followed suit, slapping into her eyes and briefly blinding her.
Not that it mattered. She recognized his voice all too easily.
His jade green eyes gazed at her somberly from under his stark white hair. Just looking at him took her breath away, like the first time they met those three years ago. So much had changed since then.
Hawke managed to slow her heartbeat, narrowing her eyes at the elf who transformed her life completely, not to mention who gave her the worst heartache she had ever felt.
“Yes, because I did.” Hawke snapped, her voice clogged with unshed tears. “I failed Mother, Carver, Bethany, you.” She paused to raise an accusing finger at him. “Especially you.”
Fenris blinked, surprise apparent in his fine features. Annoyed by his ignorance, Hawke clenched her jaw and turned back around to stare at the fire again with her arms tight around her.
“Eli-“
“Don’t.” She gasped, the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. “Don’t you dare call me that. I am Hawke to you, because-because I failed-“
He was at her side in seconds, catching her before she fell off the bed. His small, but strong and sinewy arms held her close as Hawke began to sob quite openly. Partially against her own will, Hawke found herself curling into him and clutching him for dear life.
“I don’t know what to say,” Fenris murmured as he pet her hair. “But, I am here.”
“Why?” Hawke breathed, tears trailing down her cheeks now. “Why do you still care?”
She gasped sharply as he pulled away from her abruptly, holding her at arms-length with his hands grasping her shoulders a bit too tightly. Hawke was shocked to see how hard his face at gotten.
“Must you ask that of me?” He demanded, his voice pure thunder.
No words came to her mind, but it didn’t matter. His eyes flickered to her arms, to the blood peeking through the tears in her clothes. Instantly, Fenris’ features softened all around. He frowned at her, his hands gently running down her arms. Once he reached the end of her sleeves, he began to peel them back up.
Hawke watched him wordlessly, reveling in his touch a lot more than she cared to admit. When he exposed her scratched skin, Fenris made a small, disapproving sound. His fingers gently roamed over the wounds, smearing her blood onto his own skin.
“I didn’t even feel it.” She whispered in excuse as he lifted his fingers to look at her blood on them, glaring against his pale, lyrium markings that traced his dusky olive skin. “But I feel you.”
“Hawke…” Fenris wavered, closing his eyes as he fought back the urge to take her in his arms again.
“I’m sorry.” Hawke tugged her sleeves back down, looking back towards the flames. “Maybe you should just leave.”
When Fenris opened his eyes to look at her, Hawke was still staring at the fire. Her dark eyes reflected the light, making it look like her own eyes were like burning embers. And they were so full of pain.
“If…if that is what you wish of me.” Fenris murmured hesitantly, beginning to stand. “Then it will be so.”
Just as he began to turn away, Hawke’s hand flew out and caught his wrist roughly. He started at her touch, and as her fingers tightened, that night they shared merely months ago came rushing back to him. It struck him like a lightning bolt, freezing him on the spot and flashing his lyrium markings painfully.
The way her skin felt on his, the way her lips caressed his face and body, the way she had hesitantly touched her tongue to his, the way she said his name-
Leto
The ex-slave released a tortured cry, ripping his hand out of Hawke’s startled grasp. His marks burned, and Fenris had to clutch his head to keep himself from trying to tear the lyrium out from under his skin.
“Fenris-!” Hawke gasped, jumping up to her feet, although she knowingly kept her hands to herself. “Fenris, I’m sorry. Come back to me, come back, please.”
Despite her beckoning, the memories were too much. The forgotten events of his past bombarded him again like they did that night. Flashes of faces that were vaguely out of focus, place and names he ached to remember…
Fenris
That name. He knew that name. It was his name. Wasn’t it?
“Fenris!” Yes.
And this woman. He knew her, too. He…he loved her. He used her voice to pull him back, to bring him into the present once more…
Fenris didn’t remember falling to his knees, nor did he recall all the broken crockery that was now scattered around the floor. But he did remember-
Her.
“Hawke,” He whispered, reaching out slowly to touch her cheek.
“Fenris, no.” She scolded, pulling away before he could make contact and set off another fit of painful remembrance. “I don’t…I don’t want to hurt you again.”
He made a face and cupped her cheek anyway. Both were stiff when his fingers first brushed her skin, but when nothing happened they became lax together. Hawke closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, tears dampening his hand. Fenris grinned softly, bringing up his other hand to hold her face. His thumbs brushed at her tears gently.
“I’m sorry-“ Hawke began, eyes still closed.
“I don’t want to hear it.” Fenris interrupted, causing her to pop open her dark, wet eyes. “You did not burn these infernal markings into my skin. You did not mean to make me remember. You do not have a reason to apologize.” He paused, recalling the reason he had come to see her in the first place; he felt like a fool to forget. “I do, though. You’ve lost your mother, and here I am, making my consoling visit all about me.”
“Fenris-“
“Hush, Hawke. I’m alright now.” He gave her a small smile, his green eyes taking in nothing but her. “Are you?”
She paused, all thoughts escaping her as she just looked into his eyes. So much had happened so fast, and now Hawke just didn’t know what to do.
“I don’t know.” She finally answered once she found her voice. “Can…”
“Yes?” urged the elf, his thumbs still flicking away her tears.
“Can you hold me?” She whispered, her voice breaking on the last word.
In reply, Fenris looped one hand around her neck while the other slid around her slender waist. She responded to his touch immediately, crawling into his lap to wrap her arms around his chest.
As she nuzzled her face into his chest, Hawke was grateful that Fenris had come to her without his armor. He wore his silky under suit, soft and supple against her cheek. It was almost like he wore no shirt at all. The sudden urge to tear his clothes off hit her in the back like an arrow, causing her to tighten her grip on his back.
Fenris clenched his jaw, feeling her grab at his tunic urgently. It took all of his being not to throw them both back onto her bed. He closed his eyes and fought back the need for her that he desperately yearned for.
“What about your mother?” Hawke asked, her words sounding forced as she fought the same internal battle as he. “Is she still alive?”
“Ah…” He cleared his throat, surprised at her question as well as at how dry his mouth had gotten. “I don’t know. I have no memory of her. At least you knew your mother.”
An awkward pause followed his more-than-intended-harsh words. He felt her stiffen in his embrace. This was most certainly not what she wanted to hear right now, he knew that much. He shifted her slightly, propping up his leg so that Hawke’s back was supported by it.
“But, I imagine I think of her as any other orphan would.” He continued, gazing over her head and into the fire. “She was beautiful, even for a slave for I figure she must have been one, too. Not so beautiful, though, that our master took her to bed. Her words were always gentle, but firm. She never hit us, never wanted to.” He stopped, though, upon realizing he had said “us”.
Varania.
A lie, it had to be. One last lie that Hadriana had hoped would save her pathetic life. He had promised to spare her in the moment all those months ago, but a slave’s word meant nothing, and he had no intention of doing so. She should’ve known as much.
Yet, he couldn’t help but ask after Aveline to find out what she could. Not much time had passed, but Fenris was still disappointed that she had come up with next to nothing, even with her new position as Captain of the Guard. A lie, nothing more…
“Fenris?” Oblivious to his thoughts, Hawke pulled away slightly to look up at him.
He met her tear-stained eyes warily. He never told her about his inquiries with Aveline, and Fenris begged the Captain not to tell.
“Why keep secrets from her, Fenris?” Aveline had questioned, her emerald eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I know how much she means to you.”
“Aveline,” The elf had released a long sigh before answering; against his wishes, it had seemed that all of Kirkwall had known what occurred between him and Hawke.
He liked to blame Varric.
“Please, Fenris.” She snorted, rolling her eyes from behind her desk inside the Viscount’s Keep. “A blind man could see how much you adore Hawke.”
“I…I just don’t want her to worry.” Fenris had sputtered, clearly flustered. “Eli-Hawke has enough to concern her. She need not to worry about my personal affairs on top of that.”
The warrior’s face had softened, understanding crossing her freckled features.
“You have my word.” Aveline had sworn, and so he did.
And Fenris did not want Hawke to know, not yet anyway.
“I am sorry.” He murmured to her now, furrowing his brow. “It hurts to think about.”
Which, wasn’t a complete lie. True, his markings weren’t bothering him, but the ache in his heart was beginning to throb.
“I didn’t mean to-“
“I know,” He cut her off gently, running his fingers through her hair distractedly. “You never do.”
She stared up at him, her beautiful, full lips parting slightly. There was so much she yearned to ask of him. Why he left, why he didn’t try to explain himself more, why he spent the night with her in the first place. But she knew now was not the time to interrogate him. Instead, she lowered her gaze and began to pick at his tunic absently.
“Am I to blame for not saving her?” Hawke asked of him, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I could say no, but would that help?” Fenris answered, his blunt honesty getting the best of him again. “You are looking for forgiveness, but I’m not the one who can give it to you.”
“Then who can, damn it!” She shouted, shoving out of his embrace.
Fenris pulled his arms back, fingers splayed in surrender as Hawke glared up at him with the most emotion he had ever seen from her. No, he thought to himself. It was the night they shared; that was when he saw Hawke for as she really was, her emotions raw and free as she gazed up at him with her chocolate brown eyes.
His marks gave a pinch of pain at the memory, but the elf had learned early on how to hide the little jolts the lyrium gave him sometimes. He started to say something, but Hawke scoffed and gracefully twisted up to her feet. She began muttering under her breath, stalking over to the fireplace. She propped her elbow up on the mantle, the angry tears sliding down her face and shining in the light.
“Just say something.” Hawke demanded hotly after a long pause, her eyes staring at the flames. “Anything.”
“They say death is only a journey. Does that help?” Fenris ventured hesitantly, watching her carefully.
“It raises more questions.” She replied, the rage now replaced with sorrow as she turned to face him again. “Journey to where?”
“I don’t know. It’s just something people say.”
Her throat constricted as she took in his blunt words. She knew he didn’t mean to be so insensitive; the elf was always like that. It was actually something that she appreciated of him. She could count on him to tell her like it is with anything. Now, although, was probably not the best time for such honesty. But, at the same time, the last thing she wanted was to get into another argument with Fenris. Instead, she looked back to the fire, thinking of what to say.
“I suppose they say you go back to The Maker when you die.” Her voice dropped off to a whisper by the time she reached her last word, and Hawke felt a shiver run down her spine despite her close proximity to the fire.
“I’ve heard that, too.” Fenris pushed off the floor and made to his way to stand on the opposite side of the mantle from Hawke, reaching across the lukewarm stone to fold his hands over hers. “To be honest, I see no point in filling these moments with empty talk.”
Her head snapped up at his touch, and she could feel her heart fluttering sporadically in her chest. His beautiful, beautiful jade green eyes met her gaze unwaveringly, although Fenris fought back the burn of her skin, the searing of his marks that lit up at her touch.
“Then kiss me.” She breathed, surprising them both.
As he took in a sharp breath to deny her, Hawke took initiative and covered his lips with hers. Any rejection he had before was now totally gone as she melted into his chest. Her breath became his again, her heat and desire mixing with his. It was wonderful, how could he ever forget how magnificent it was to kiss her? The elf, ignoring the shooting pain radiating throughout his body, pulled her in closer. His arms locked around her waist, his fingers digging into the small of her back while her hands snaked up into his hair. She tugged at the finer hairs at the nape of his neck, knotting the thin hairs between her trembling fingers.
He gave a little yelp into her mouth as she pulled harder, but that only excited Hawke more. She pressed herself closer to him, nipping his bottom lip softly despite her obvious passion. Fenris’ mind was whirling; the pain was beginning to become excruciating, but the last thing he wanted to do was to push Hawke away.
Sensing his second-hesitation, though, the rogue pulled away just a hair. Both were heaving, their breath coming out in hot puffs but neither seemed to mind it. She met his eyes almost sheepishly.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” She said without moving away. “You must be in terrible pain.”
“Nothing I haven’t faced before.” He murmured, although his skin felt like it was on fire. “You are worth it, Ha-“
She put a finger on his lips, a gentle ‘shh’ sliding between her teeth. Her fingertip sent a tingle through his whole body, the pain relieving for one short second. Fenris fought back the tremors as she pushed herself up on her toes, her cheek resting against his with her lips at his ear.
“Call me Eliza,” She whispered, feeling his pointed ear twitch slightly under her breath.
Fenris shuddered at her voice, tightening his arms around her as the pain spiked dangerously. He nuzzled his head into the crook of her shoulder, his lips brushing her neck.
“You are worth it, Eliza.”

Description
Dragon Age II Fan Fiction
But I am Here
started 2/18/14
slightly suggestive
The crackle of the fireplace usually calmed Eliza Hawke’s typically jittered nerves. Today was different, though. Now, the pop and sizzle of the logs burning away only highlighted her absolute loneliness and pain.
She sat on her four-post, king sized bed, facing the eerily chilled fireplace. Her arms held each other, her cold fingers digging into her flesh as she tried desperately to feel anything.
Yet, despite ripping holes in her robes and even drawing blood, Hawke felt nothing.
“I failed everyone.” She whispered, her dark brown eyes staring blankly into the fire’s dancing flames.
“Is that what you think?”
The rogue was not used to being the victim in a sneak attack, so needless to say, his voice caused her to jump out of her skin. Her heart hammering like a bird in her chest, Hawke turned her head sharply. Her chocolate brown, wavy hair followed suit, slapping into her eyes and briefly blinding her.
Not that it mattered. She recognized his voice all too easily.
His jade green eyes gazed at her somberly from under his stark white hair. Just looking at him took her breath away, like the first time they met those three years ago. So much had changed since then.
Hawke managed to slow her heartbeat, narrowing her eyes at the elf who transformed her life completely, not to mention who gave her the worst heartache she had ever felt.
“Yes, because I did.” Hawke snapped, her voice clogged with unshed tears. “I failed Mother, Carver, Bethany, you.” She paused to raise an accusing finger at him. “Especially you.”
Fenris blinked, surprise apparent in his fine features. Annoyed by his ignorance, Hawke clenched her jaw and turned back around to stare at the fire again with her arms tight around her.
“Eli-“
“Don’t.” She gasped, the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. “Don’t you dare call me that. I am Hawke to you, because-because I failed-“
He was at her side in seconds, catching her before she fell off the bed. His small, but strong and sinewy arms held her close as Hawke began to sob quite openly. Partially against her own will, Hawke found herself curling into him and clutching him for dear life.
“I don’t know what to say,” Fenris murmured as he pet her hair. “But, I am here.”
“Why?” Hawke breathed, tears trailing down her cheeks now. “Why do you still care?”
She gasped sharply as he pulled away from her abruptly, holding her at arms-length with his hands grasping her shoulders a bit too tightly. Hawke was shocked to see how hard his face at gotten.
“Must you ask that of me?” He demanded, his voice pure thunder.
No words came to her mind, but it didn’t matter. His eyes flickered to her arms, to the blood peeking through the tears in her clothes. Instantly, Fenris’ features softened all around. He frowned at her, his hands gently running down her arms. Once he reached the end of her sleeves, he began to peel them back up.
Hawke watched him wordlessly, reveling in his touch a lot more than she cared to admit. When he exposed her scratched skin, Fenris made a small, disapproving sound. His fingers gently roamed over the wounds, smearing her blood onto his own skin.
“I didn’t even feel it.” She whispered in excuse as he lifted his fingers to look at her blood on them, glaring against his pale, lyrium markings that traced his dusky olive skin. “But I feel you.”
“Hawke…” Fenris wavered, closing his eyes as he fought back the urge to take her in his arms again.
“I’m sorry.” Hawke tugged her sleeves back down, looking back towards the flames. “Maybe you should just leave.”
When Fenris opened his eyes to look at her, Hawke was still staring at the fire. Her dark eyes reflected the light, making it look like her own eyes were like burning embers. And they were so full of pain.
“If…if that is what you wish of me.” Fenris murmured hesitantly, beginning to stand. “Then it will be so.”
Just as he began to turn away, Hawke’s hand flew out and caught his wrist roughly. He started at her touch, and as her fingers tightened, that night they shared merely months ago came rushing back to him. It struck him like a lightning bolt, freezing him on the spot and flashing his lyrium markings painfully.
The way her skin felt on his, the way her lips caressed his face and body, the way she had hesitantly touched her tongue to his, the way she said his name-
Leto
The ex-slave released a tortured cry, ripping his hand out of Hawke’s startled grasp. His marks burned, and Fenris had to clutch his head to keep himself from trying to tear the lyrium out from under his skin.
“Fenris-!” Hawke gasped, jumping up to her feet, although she knowingly kept her hands to herself. “Fenris, I’m sorry. Come back to me, come back, please.”
Despite her beckoning, the memories were too much. The forgotten events of his past bombarded him again like they did that night. Flashes of faces that were vaguely out of focus, place and names he ached to remember…
Fenris
That name. He knew that name. It was his name. Wasn’t it?
“Fenris!” Yes.
And this woman. He knew her, too. He…he loved her. He used her voice to pull him back, to bring him into the present once more…
Fenris didn’t remember falling to his knees, nor did he recall all the broken crockery that was now scattered around the floor. But he did remember-
Her.
“Hawke,” He whispered, reaching out slowly to touch her cheek.
“Fenris, no.” She scolded, pulling away before he could make contact and set off another fit of painful remembrance. “I don’t…I don’t want to hurt you again.”
He made a face and cupped her cheek anyway. Both were stiff when his fingers first brushed her skin, but when nothing happened they became lax together. Hawke closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, tears dampening his hand. Fenris grinned softly, bringing up his other hand to hold her face. His thumbs brushed at her tears gently.
“I’m sorry-“ Hawke began, eyes still closed.
“I don’t want to hear it.” Fenris interrupted, causing her to pop open her dark, wet eyes. “You did not burn these infernal markings into my skin. You did not mean to make me remember. You do not have a reason to apologize.” He paused, recalling the reason he had come to see her in the first place; he felt like a fool to forget. “I do, though. You’ve lost your mother, and here I am, making my consoling visit all about me.”
“Fenris-“
“Hush, Hawke. I’m alright now.” He gave her a small smile, his green eyes taking in nothing but her. “Are you?”
She paused, all thoughts escaping her as she just looked into his eyes. So much had happened so fast, and now Hawke just didn’t know what to do.
“I don’t know.” She finally answered once she found her voice. “Can…”
“Yes?” urged the elf, his thumbs still flicking away her tears.
“Can you hold me?” She whispered, her voice breaking on the last word.
In reply, Fenris looped one hand around her neck while the other slid around her slender waist. She responded to his touch immediately, crawling into his lap to wrap her arms around his chest.
As she nuzzled her face into his chest, Hawke was grateful that Fenris had come to her without his armor. He wore his silky under suit, soft and supple against her cheek. It was almost like he wore no shirt at all. The sudden urge to tear his clothes off hit her in the back like an arrow, causing her to tighten her grip on his back.
Fenris clenched his jaw, feeling her grab at his tunic urgently. It took all of his being not to throw them both back onto her bed. He closed his eyes and fought back the need for her that he desperately yearned for.
“What about your mother?” Hawke asked, her words sounding forced as she fought the same internal battle as he. “Is she still alive?”
“Ah…” He cleared his throat, surprised at her question as well as at how dry his mouth had gotten. “I don’t know. I have no memory of her. At least you knew your mother.”
An awkward pause followed his more-than-intended-harsh words. He felt her stiffen in his embrace. This was most certainly not what she wanted to hear right now, he knew that much. He shifted her slightly, propping up his leg so that Hawke’s back was supported by it.
“But, I imagine I think of her as any other orphan would.” He continued, gazing over her head and into the fire. “She was beautiful, even for a slave for I figure she must have been one, too. Not so beautiful, though, that our master took her to bed. Her words were always gentle, but firm. She never hit us, never wanted to.” He stopped, though, upon realizing he had said “us”.
Varania.
A lie, it had to be. One last lie that Hadriana had hoped would save her pathetic life. He had promised to spare her in the moment all those months ago, but a slave’s word meant nothing, and he had no intention of doing so. She should’ve known as much.
Yet, he couldn’t help but ask after Aveline to find out what she could. Not much time had passed, but Fenris was still disappointed that she had come up with next to nothing, even with her new position as Captain of the Guard. A lie, nothing more…
“Fenris?” Oblivious to his thoughts, Hawke pulled away slightly to look up at him.
He met her tear-stained eyes warily. He never told her about his inquiries with Aveline, and Fenris begged the Captain not to tell.
“Why keep secrets from her, Fenris?” Aveline had questioned, her emerald eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I know how much she means to you.”
“Aveline,” The elf had released a long sigh before answering; against his wishes, it had seemed that all of Kirkwall had known what occurred between him and Hawke.
He liked to blame Varric.
“Please, Fenris.” She snorted, rolling her eyes from behind her desk inside the Viscount’s Keep. “A blind man could see how much you adore Hawke.”
“I…I just don’t want her to worry.” Fenris had sputtered, clearly flustered. “Eli-Hawke has enough to concern her. She need not to worry about my personal affairs on top of that.”
The warrior’s face had softened, understanding crossing her freckled features.
“You have my word.” Aveline had sworn, and so he did.
And Fenris did not want Hawke to know, not yet anyway.
“I am sorry.” He murmured to her now, furrowing his brow. “It hurts to think about.”
Which, wasn’t a complete lie. True, his markings weren’t bothering him, but the ache in his heart was beginning to throb.
“I didn’t mean to-“
“I know,” He cut her off gently, running his fingers through her hair distractedly. “You never do.”
She stared up at him, her beautiful, full lips parting slightly. There was so much she yearned to ask of him. Why he left, why he didn’t try to explain himself more, why he spent the night with her in the first place. But she knew now was not the time to interrogate him. Instead, she lowered her gaze and began to pick at his tunic absently.
“Am I to blame for not saving her?” Hawke asked of him, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I could say no, but would that help?” Fenris answered, his blunt honesty getting the best of him again. “You are looking for forgiveness, but I’m not the one who can give it to you.”
“Then who can, damn it!” She shouted, shoving out of his embrace.
Fenris pulled his arms back, fingers splayed in surrender as Hawke glared up at him with the most emotion he had ever seen from her. No, he thought to himself. It was the night they shared; that was when he saw Hawke for as she really was, her emotions raw and free as she gazed up at him with her chocolate brown eyes.
His marks gave a pinch of pain at the memory, but the elf had learned early on how to hide the little jolts the lyrium gave him sometimes. He started to say something, but Hawke scoffed and gracefully twisted up to her feet. She began muttering under her breath, stalking over to the fireplace. She propped her elbow up on the mantle, the angry tears sliding down her face and shining in the light.
“Just say something.” Hawke demanded hotly after a long pause, her eyes staring at the flames. “Anything.”
“They say death is only a journey. Does that help?” Fenris ventured hesitantly, watching her carefully.
“It raises more questions.” She replied, the rage now replaced with sorrow as she turned to face him again. “Journey to where?”
“I don’t know. It’s just something people say.”
Her throat constricted as she took in his blunt words. She knew he didn’t mean to be so insensitive; the elf was always like that. It was actually something that she appreciated of him. She could count on him to tell her like it is with anything. Now, although, was probably not the best time for such honesty. But, at the same time, the last thing she wanted was to get into another argument with Fenris. Instead, she looked back to the fire, thinking of what to say.
“I suppose they say you go back to The Maker when you die.” Her voice dropped off to a whisper by the time she reached her last word, and Hawke felt a shiver run down her spine despite her close proximity to the fire.
“I’ve heard that, too.” Fenris pushed off the floor and made to his way to stand on the opposite side of the mantle from Hawke, reaching across the lukewarm stone to fold his hands over hers. “To be honest, I see no point in filling these moments with empty talk.”
Her head snapped up at his touch, and she could feel her heart fluttering sporadically in her chest. His beautiful, beautiful jade green eyes met her gaze unwaveringly, although Fenris fought back the burn of her skin, the searing of his marks that lit up at her touch.
“Then kiss me.” She breathed, surprising them both.
As he took in a sharp breath to deny her, Hawke took initiative and covered his lips with hers. Any rejection he had before was now totally gone as she melted into his chest. Her breath became his again, her heat and desire mixing with his. It was wonderful, how could he ever forget how magnificent it was to kiss her? The elf, ignoring the shooting pain radiating throughout his body, pulled her in closer. His arms locked around her waist, his fingers digging into the small of her back while her hands snaked up into his hair. She tugged at the finer hairs at the nape of his neck, knotting the thin hairs between her trembling fingers.
He gave a little yelp into her mouth as she pulled harder, but that only excited Hawke more. She pressed herself closer to him, nipping his bottom lip softly despite her obvious passion. Fenris’ mind was whirling; the pain was beginning to become excruciating, but the last thing he wanted to do was to push Hawke away.
Sensing his second-hesitation, though, the rogue pulled away just a hair. Both were heaving, their breath coming out in hot puffs but neither seemed to mind it. She met his eyes almost sheepishly.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” She said without moving away. “You must be in terrible pain.”
“Nothing I haven’t faced before.” He murmured, although his skin felt like it was on fire. “You are worth it, Ha-“
She put a finger on his lips, a gentle ‘shh’ sliding between her teeth. Her fingertip sent a tingle through his whole body, the pain relieving for one short second. Fenris fought back the tremors as she pushed herself up on her toes, her cheek resting against his with her lips at his ear.
“Call me Eliza,” She whispered, feeling his pointed ear twitch slightly under her breath.
Fenris shuddered at her voice, tightening his arms around her as the pain spiked dangerously. He nuzzled his head into the crook of her shoulder, his lips brushing her neck.
“You are worth it, Eliza.”