Every sound, every movement - not just now but always - would give or take away Fenris' hope. Even if he didn't deserve Hawke, wasn't worthy of the man, he... Maker above, he craved him heart, mind, and body. Even his tortured mage soul. If he needed to follow Hawke into the fade, into the void, he would.
Without hesitation. Even if the man wasn't his, because he will always be Hawke's.
His breath hitches again at the lick, his ears twitching lightly. But it's the nuzzle to his ear that has his cheeks warming and biting his lip to keep from making any noise. They were so sensitive and without markings, so it made every touch to them pure pleasure. Surely Hawke knew what he was doing to Fenris.
So badly, he wants to shift his hips back, to tease the man in turn, but that might be a step too far. Instead he moves his hand to rest on top if Hawkes, to fit his fingers between the other man's. Always such a warmth to his chilled body.
Both Varric and Isabela were asleep by now; Hawke was quite familiar with all of his companions' habits, and it was so very tempting to whisper to Fenris, Turn over, but Hawke bit his lip on the words. Because, again, that was unfair. Fenris had asked for time - and didn't he remind himself of that once an hour? - and damned if Hawke didn't want to give it to him, but it was just...hard.
--and that wasn't the only rigid thing in the tent, either. Which was why the mage was purposefully keeping a good amount of space between their lower bodies.
Though when Fenris settled his lean hand over his, Hawke paused only a fraction, then twined his fingers with the elf's just before deliberately placing a few more kisses beneath that lovely ear. He was more than willing to give what affection he could, as long as Fenris would accept it.
This wasn't fair. To either of them. Fenris was leading them both on by not stopping this, but he so desperately wants the man. To turn over and kiss him properly, to take their cocks in hand and bring them off quick and quiet. Maker help him, he so wants to do just that and chase pleasure with the man he loves.
So why is Hawke indulging him? It's not that he doesn't know Hawke still holds a candle for him, but it's that he shouldn't. The mage should have long snuffed it out and found someone else. Someone that deserves him.
But as they twine fingers and Hawke peppers him with kisses he hasn't earned, Fenris knows now he needs to make a decision. In the faintest whisper, he says, "I cannot promise what you might wish of me, but I... will not deny you either."
He can promise Hawke so much, his entire being, his soul, his body and heart... he just does not believe it worthy enough of the man.
Oh, Maker’s sweet fucking breath… Hawke couldn’t have swallowed the guttural moan that followed those words any more than he could have stopped the moon from rising. His fingers involuntarily tightened around Fenris’s hand, squeezing with the sudden flood of sheer desire that rushed through his veins, igniting his very blood.
This time, there was no hesitation or subterfuge; Hawke buried his nose beneath the elf’s beautiful ear and inhaled a deep, shuddering breath. He instinctively closed the gap between their bodies, slotting his aching groin snugly and tightly against Fenris’s backside, letting him feel just how badly he wanted, just how damn much he needed.
“Turn over.” It was a gravelly whispered plea, an invitation to take what was so freely offered, a supplication to alleviate at least a fraction of this burning desire that blazed so brightly between them. “Please, Fen…”
Hawke gave in to the undeniable urge of gracing that lovely ear with more kisses, soft brushes of worshipping lips that moved over smooth skin in reverent homage. “…I wanna kiss you, Fenris…so badly…it’s been driving me crazy…”
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Without hesitation. Even if the man wasn't his, because he will always be Hawke's.
His breath hitches again at the lick, his ears twitching lightly. But it's the nuzzle to his ear that has his cheeks warming and biting his lip to keep from making any noise. They were so sensitive and without markings, so it made every touch to them pure pleasure. Surely Hawke knew what he was doing to Fenris.
So badly, he wants to shift his hips back, to tease the man in turn, but that might be a step too far. Instead he moves his hand to rest on top if Hawkes, to fit his fingers between the other man's. Always such a warmth to his chilled body.
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--and that wasn't the only rigid thing in the tent, either. Which was why the mage was purposefully keeping a good amount of space between their lower bodies.
Though when Fenris settled his lean hand over his, Hawke paused only a fraction, then twined his fingers with the elf's just before deliberately placing a few more kisses beneath that lovely ear. He was more than willing to give what affection he could, as long as Fenris would accept it.
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So why is Hawke indulging him? It's not that he doesn't know Hawke still holds a candle for him, but it's that he shouldn't. The mage should have long snuffed it out and found someone else. Someone that deserves him.
But as they twine fingers and Hawke peppers him with kisses he hasn't earned, Fenris knows now he needs to make a decision. In the faintest whisper, he says, "I cannot promise what you might wish of me, but I... will not deny you either."
He can promise Hawke so much, his entire being, his soul, his body and heart... he just does not believe it worthy enough of the man.
no subject
This time, there was no hesitation or subterfuge; Hawke buried his nose beneath the elf’s beautiful ear and inhaled a deep, shuddering breath. He instinctively closed the gap between their bodies, slotting his aching groin snugly and tightly against Fenris’s backside, letting him feel just how badly he wanted, just how damn much he needed.
“Turn over.” It was a gravelly whispered plea, an invitation to take what was so freely offered, a supplication to alleviate at least a fraction of this burning desire that blazed so brightly between them. “Please, Fen…”
Hawke gave in to the undeniable urge of gracing that lovely ear with more kisses, soft brushes of worshipping lips that moved over smooth skin in reverent homage. “…I wanna kiss you, Fenris…so badly…it’s been driving me crazy…”