He wasn't sure how things had ended up like this.

Fenris was a man of simple logic; mages needed to be controlled. If they were left to their own devices they would only cause chaos and destruction. Leaving trails of death and misery. Widows and orphans. Scars and torment. Hawke, meanwhile, was a woman of complex logic; all mages, in her eyes, should be free-except the crazy ones. How does one identify the crazy ones? Well, they're usually the ones shouting about human sacrifice and canoodling with demons.

Canoodling. As if they were doing nothing more sinister than plotting an evil tea party. Honestly, it infuriated Fenris. The thought that Hawke could think of mages and the state of the world with such a "devil may care" attitude left Fenris trembling with anger. He could feel the tremors of ire down to his bones. Yet, here they were, furiously writhing against one another as if they hadn't just had a severe political disagreement.

Her hair had grown so long, long enough to fall down half the length of her spine. It fanned out on the surface beneath her head like an open starless sky. Midnight black like the feathers of an Antivan Crow. Her skin was so pale that any flush of color made her whole body appear to blush. It was youthful and girlish and so unlike her. Her nipples were an inviting shade of light pink, perked and glistening after the attention he had just given them. His lips fell on her again, as he mouthed silent praises on the supple skin beneath the curve of her right breast. She was arched beneath him-back bent in the same curve as a bow. Her expression was a blend of ecstasy and agony. He had to tease her when she upset him like this. It was the only way to curb the acid sarcasm that usually came afterward when they had a disagreement.

She was scorching him with her heat. At first, he could hardly move. He felt engulfed, devoured, whole. It was like being encased in pure hot velvet while listening to a symphony of moans and gasps. The nails digging into his back, biting into the marks of lyrium carved into his flesh, is what brought him back. Spurred him on. He moved his hips without thought, his movements steadily becoming a smooth rhythm. His lips found her neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there as Hawke began moving in tandem to meet his thrusts. She was beginning to lose herself, her nails digging deeper.

"I can't-" She gasped into his neck as he kissed up the side of her face, stopping just short of her ear. "Fenris, I need…I-"

Fenris knew what she needed. Hawke was a woman of conflict. This champion identity was borne of violence and need. A mix of desperation and necessity. She did nothing gently. She was crass and sarcastic. She did not hesitate to take what she wanted. This disposition extended to the way she conducted her personal life. Nothing could ever be simple with her.

Fenris could never just make love to her in the bedroom. She wanted him in hushed dark places. She wanted him squeezed in between doorways. She wanted him bent over her while she leaned over the rail on her balcony. Hawke often liked it when he was rough with her. She lived for the marks he could leave on her skin with his teeth and nails like he was carving his passion right into her.

Now she was quaking beneath him, just teetering on the edge of an orgasm. Close. But she couldn't get there. Fenris grinned into her skin, kissing the soft spot in front of her ear. "I know what you need, Hawke."

It was a simple matter for him to lean back to reposition them. Gripping under her thighs to steady himself, he pulled out and effortlessly flipped her over. She made a noise of loss. This was followed by a dull whine of annoyance at the sudden treatment.

Her hair was draped over her like water pouring over stones in the river. It was silky and smooth. Too soft under his touch. There was just so much of it, which made it easy to get a fistful of it with one hand. With his other hand, he aligned them again, thrusting forward and sinking home in one smooth movement. His unoccupied hand drifted to her hip, nails digging in as he gripped her as tightly as he dared. Her hair was practically wrapped about his fist, he had a grip so close to her skull Hawke was forced to tilt her head back. He leaned down to kiss the back of her shoulder once. This was a familiar dance.

Fenris knew the steps. Could see them on the back of his eyelids as they fell closed in sweet ecstasy. Being inside her felt incredible. It felt like something he didn't deserve. The euphoria was washing over him. The familiar tingle in his muscles bidding him to move. He waited only a beat. Then began thrusting into her as if it were his last chance to fuck her. The force of it made her whole body jerk forward, but her body tensed, her back arching to compensate for his iron grip in her hair.

Hawke cried out in delight. He could hear her nails scrape across the wood surface of her desk. He could see the outer curve of her breasts as they bounced. He could feel the way her body tightened around him greedily. She was close. It was only a matter of time now.

The harder he thrust, the louder her cries became. He was addicted to this power he had over her. The ability to reduce her to a whimpering mess. She tightened around him again, and it was all he could do to keep from coming right then. Then, blissfully he felt the telltale sign of her orgasm hit. He felt one final clench around him and moved to pull out before he spilled inside her.

"No!" Hawke said with a sudden, desperate tone.

Fenris was in a daze. Surely he'd misheard her.

"Hawke," He sighed, feeling breathless and on edge. "Be reasonable. You can't afford-"

She twisted in his grasp to look at him over her shoulder, which was no easy feat considering the hold he had on her hair. He let her hair slip through his fingers so he could curl one under her chin.

"This will not be one of your games. Do you know what you are asking of me? What this would mean?"

Hawke stared back at him resolutely. "I know what I want, Fenris. Are you really going to deny me this?"

His heart thundered against his ribcage. A child was...something he had never thought of. Family was something that was out of his grasp. He had never wanted it. He had never thought he deserved to want it. He wanted to kiss her. To pull her close and thank her for this gift.

Instead, he sighed as if he were steeling himself, and moved the hand under her chin to take purchase on her other hip. It felt like the most important thing he could do. He began chasing his orgasm in earnest. The air grew thick and heavy from exhaled carbon and the heat emitting from their bodies. He sank home, again and again, delighting in the way Hawke clenched around him like she was hungry for his seed. It didn't take him long. His orgasm crashed over him with a white-hot suddenness. It was violent and unrestrained. His hips stuttered against the curve of her ass as he emptied himself.

When it was over, his mouth pressed to her shoulder reverently. He hadn't pulled out yet. Didn't want to. They collapsed on her desk, their breaths falling in sync.

"Hawke." He said.

"Fenris." She replied.

He couldn't think of what to say. He didn't know how to express what she meant to him. What this meant for them. He was lost in all the combinations or words-all the possible sentences he might clumsily construct to thank her. And then, as was her way, she beat him to it.

"I love you as well." She said it smugly. Like she'd won some contest. But honestly, Fenris wouldn't have it any other way.