Feels Like Tonight

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Fenris followed Hawke into the house, halting when she did, in front of the large fireplace in her foyer. None of her servants was visible at the moment, and it was just the two of them, staring at each other. Fenris could barely breathe, and he expected to wake up at any moment and find that this was merely a dream. That a woman like Hawke would desire him seemed unbelievable.

Hawke began to remove her gloves. Her cheeks were unusually pink as she glanced shyly at him. "Would you like to come upstairs?"

Oh, yes. Yes. 'Like' was an incredibly insufficient word for how much he wanted to go upstairs with her. He just couldn't seem to get his feet to move or his mouth to speak.

She put the gloves down on a table, on top of a scattered pile of letters. "Fenris?" Her voice was small and faint, unlike the clear tones he was used to hearing from her. Perhaps she was as nervous and unsure as he. She walked toward him, stopping only when their armor was touching. "It's not too late to change your mind," she whispered.

Fenris shook his head. "I don't want to change my mind." Closing his eyes, he sought her mouth with his, feeling those soft, sweet lips part for him. He ran his tongue along her velvet-soft bottom lip, and she sighed, leaning into him and twining her fingers in his hair. Fenris slid one hand up the back of her neck and into her hair, his fingers seeking the pins that held her bun in place and removing them all, so that her hair fell heavy and silken around her shoulders.

A sound from another room broke through the haze he was lost in, and Fenris jumped back, looking around.

Hawke laughed. Giggled, really, and he couldn't stop the answering smile that spread across his face. "This is why I suggested going upstairs. Where there's a door we can close." She reached for his hand, and he held onto her tightly, following her up the stairs and into her room.

Hawke closed the bedroom door behind them, and turned to look at him. The room was lit only by the firelight, which played across her face.

She reached to start taking off her armor, and Fenris put his hands on hers. "Let me. Please."

"Okay." She dropped her hands, letting him work on her armor.

Having a task to accomplish stilled the nerves that were making his hands tremble, and he deftly did away with her armor until she stood before him in leggings and a thin undertunic.

"You're very good at that. Are you sure you don't remember undressing someone before?"

His hands were drawn to her body, stroking her back through the tunic as he drew her closer against him. "I have been considering how to get you out of your armor for the best part of four years," he whispered in her ear. "What did you imagine I thought about while following you around town?"

"Strangely, I thought you might be thinking of the task at hand. Clearly a foolish assumption," Hawke said, laughing. She laid her cheek against his shoulder, and he marveled at how naturally she fit into his arms.

"Indeed."

"My turn?" Hawke asked, sliding her hands down his back and toward the buckles on his armor.

Panic seized him, locking his muscles in place. "Hawke—" It was foolish, he told himself for the thousandth time. But every time he thought about taking his armor off in front of her, standing in front of her naked ... Unfair to her though the idea was, he couldn't rid himself of the worry that she wanted him only for his exoticness, for the markings that twined around his torso and over the muscles of his legs. He didn't think he could stand to see her eyes gleam with interest at the sight of him and not know if it was him she wanted or if it was simply the conquest of the unknown. "Please, don't." He wanted to tell her what he was thinking, but he was mute in the face of his fear.

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