A/N: NSFW smut. But really. We all saw this coming. Thanks so much for reading! I enjoyed writing this!

Chapter 2

Hawke hadn't spoken to Rylen again since that night he finished her potion while they sat in the sand and talked. It was surreal, talking to someone about herself. Simple things. Normal things. He asked her what her favorite food was and if she'd ever been to Starkhaven. He didn't ask her anything about Kirkwall. The cynical part of her thought it was probably because he already read the book. The part of her she wanted to believe thought it was because he wanted to get to know her. Marian. Not the Champion.

She asked questions about him as well, but she was surprised to find that she had trouble sticking to mundane things. Small talk wasn't really something she was good at apparently. Now that the door was opened, she felt a familiar urge to dive through it, head first. It was all very pleasant knowing he was the youngest of five siblings and his parents were masons but she wanted to know more, to know him.

She wanted to know the man who took walks alone in the desert so he could smite boulders. Had he ever been hurt? Had he ever loved? She wanted to know what made his heart beat faster and his head spin. What were the man's limits? His depths?

When they finally parted it was with reserved smiles, another handshake and a promise to speak again soon, but as she lay awake in her borrowed bed that night she started questioning her instincts. It wasn't like her to be reserved. Hawke only knew how to be 'all in'. It was that need to commit herself completely, however, that had always gotten her into trouble, which was basically her whole life up to this point. Trouble. She didn't need any more, least of all from a Templar. A Templar! Andraste's arse, what was she thinking?

You're thinking you still want a chance to be happy...

xxxx

"She's avoiding me." Rylen said with a wry smile.

The Commander looked up from his reports and squinted in the midday sun shining brightly down onto the courtyard. "Hm? Who?"

Rylen nodded in the direction of Hawke who had just appeared outside. She scanned the area, saw him and then immediately busied herself with talking to a merchant in a nearby stall. After she bought something, a few people came up to her and she actually humored them by conversing, all while shooting glances in his direction. It was adorable, watching her squirm, but it wasn't moving things forward for them and he definitely wanted to move forward.

Cullen looked to where Rylen's attention was focused and shook his head. It wasn't so much a disapproving gesture as it was one of resignation.

"Of all the women in Thedas, you want her?"

Rylen laughed. "I think she has a similar opinion of you, Ser."

"Yes. She does. And I can't even begin to count the number of times she told me to my face just what she thought of me, of Templars and of 'dolts with big swords in general', in that order."

Rylen shrugged, still wearing a wide grin. "I like a challenge."

Cullen crossed his arms, and looked as if he was considering war strategy. "Well, she was quite civil to me the other night when she came looking for you. Maybe she's changing."

Rylen wasn't so sure.

Maybe she's just learning how to be herself.

xxxx

Hawke was trying to find other things to do, but her attention kept veering over to where Rylen stood talking with Cullen. She was about to force herself to go back inside when Inquisitor Trevelyan called out to her.

"Hawke! It's good to see you again. I've been wanting to say hello to you since we arrived. I also wanted to thank you for helping the Knight-Captain."

There was a curious inflection to the Inquisitor's offer of thanks. Hawke wondered if she was talking about killing varghests or if she was referring to helping Rylen with his withdrawal symptoms.

Irritation started creeping in over exactly how much information had been passed between Rylen and his Templar brother and from him to the Inquisitor. She didn't so much mind the two men talking but it annoyed her to have her private business turned into pillow talk between lovers. Not to mention, thinking of Cullen as anyone's lover made her want to gag. So she took it out on Lady Trevelyan.

Narrowing her eyes and very obviously trying to pick a fight, Hawke did what she did best and started running at the mouth. "I don't get it, Your Worship." When she said the Inquisitor's honorific, the two words couldn't have sounded more like an insult than if she'd said 'You Dumb Nug', which was exactly the tone she was going for. "You were in a Circle. How can you stand to let that Templar touch you."

To her credit, Lady Trevelyan didn't seem fazed. "And you weren't in a circle, Hawke. So if anyone should be able to give a Templar the benefit of the doubt, it should be you, right?" Trevelyan looked dreamily over at her Commander. "Plus, I love him."

Hawke rolled her eyes and tried not to vomit in her mouth. "You know he said mages weren't people, right?"

"I know." Trevelyan said matter-of-factly. "He told me. People change. Maybe you should try it."

Hawke wanted to blast the smirk right off the other woman's face, but she didn't. She just walked away. Maybe she was already changing.

Later that evening, Hawke was facing another sleepless night staring at the ceiling when a knock at her door startled her. She opened it to find Rylen. He looked like he'd been out in the desert silencing shadows again. His bare chest glistened with sweat and his hair was tussled by the wind. For a moment she was distracted by the rippling planes of his muscles and the way the intricate patterns of his tattoos traveled across his torso, up his shoulders and down both of his arms.

Her mouth hung open and the curse that she had ready over being disturbed died before it could be spoken. She didn't trust herself to be the first to talk. Fortunately, he did.

"I'm not Cullen."

Bewildered and feeling as if she missed part of this conversation, she pried her gaze away from his body and looked up at his eyes. Fuck. His eyes. Not really less distracting…

"What?" She asked dumbly.

"You heard me. I'm not Meredith Stannard either, or any other Templar you've met before."

"I know that." She huffed.

His voice got serious. "And I'm not Anders."

Hawke leveled an icy glare at him, but was met with an infuriatingly calm pair of blue eyes. She countered his even temper with a bitter retort. "Fine. I get it. You're neither a tool of mage oppression nor are you a lying terrorist. Congratulations." She tried to slam the door in his face, but he caught it with one strong arm and gently, but insistently, pushed his way past her to enter the room.

"I didn't invite you in here!" She shouted impotently, feeling her ire bubble up even as she wondered why she was getting so angry.

"Well, you can register a complaint with the commanding officer...oh, wait! That's me."

It surprised Hawke that his boyish white-toothed grin didn't aggravate her more. In fact, she found herself at a loss for words and she just stood there as he sat down in a chair.

He leaned back, still smiling. "You know, Cullen and the Inquisitor think I'm crazy for pursuing you."

"Pursuing me?" Hawke's heart beat faster. She tried to ignore it. "Is that what you call this? There isn't a woman in Thedas who would fall for this kind of pursuit."

"How about this kind…" Faster than a large man should have been able to move, Rylen rose, closed the distance between them and kissed her.

It was indelicate and he almost missed her lips. All at once she was flooded by the feeling of him and her Maker-damned curiosity got the better of her again, preventing her from pulling away or pushing him back. The heat coming off his bare skin was intense and it radiated, drawing her into a pocket of warmth despite the chill of night. His lips were chapped and rough against hers and his unshaven stubble scratched at her face. His hands found her waist and pulled her closer with a grip that was firm, decisive and she felt grounded by it. He smelled of sweat and sand and the desert air. He was a million little bursts of sensation, strange, different, new.

When she kissed him back, she wasn't Hawke. Hawke was bold and ardent. Passionate and confident. The woman who kissed him back was guarded but wanting. Accepting, but hesitant. She pushed herself up on her toes and pressed into him slowly, warily. For a brief second, she felt him smile against her lips and then he deepened their kiss. The hand that held her waist now rose to cup her face and he tilted their heads to taste more of her and allow her to taste of him. She enjoyed how his fingers caressed her jaw and tangled into her hair. She savored the slide of his tongue against hers and she shivered with unexpected and over-whelming arousal when he whispered to her.

"Marian…" he said. The sound of her name rolling off his lips in his Starkhaven brogue made her knees weak.

Marian. Is that who she was to him? Not Hawke. No one ever called her Marian. She wanted to be Marian…

He was still holding her face and looking down at her when he asked her a question. "So would you fall for that then?"

She blinked away the haze of desire and tried to focus on his blue eyes. "I...um...yes." Was all she could manage to say.

xxxx

The sun rose and set and rose and set. The Commander and the Inquisitor departed Griffon Wing. Hawke remained. The moons phased in and out. The Inquisitor returned again, this time with Varric in her party.

"So. Hawke. I've heard some things."

She and Varric stood idly in the courtyard, watching the bustle of the fort as it passed them by.

"About?" She asked cagily.

"You. And Tatts."

Hawke looked down at Varric. "Tatts?"

"You can play dumb all you want. But just so you know, there's been talk. And I know you're not much for people in your business."

"You mean like having a book published about me?"

"That's different. We've been over this. You love me."

Hawke shook her head and quipped, "According to you, I apparently love the Knight-Captain."

"Huh. So it's not true then? Too bad. Would have made for a great sequel."

Just then, Rylen came through the main gates. He'd been out inspecting the nearby camps. He caught sight of Hawke and smiled broadly, striding with purpose over to where she stood with Varric. Hawke held her breath.

Rylen nodded politely to Varric as he approached, but swooped down on Hawke and swept her up into a tight embrace, followed by a passionate kiss. In front of the whole fort. In the light of day.

Cheeky bastard. He did it on purpose.

That knowledge somehow didn't stop Hawke from letting it happen. The fluttering in her stomach and the tingle on her skin from his touch didn't stop when he set her down.

"I missed you." He said breathlessly when they pulled apart, his damn accent making the fluttering and tingling worse.

"It's only been three days." Hawke groused. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand in an effort to conceal the blush rising into her face that she was far too old and far too jaded to wear.

Before he could respond, one of his men called out to him. He offered her an apology, nodded to Varric again and then left them to tend to his business. Varric looked back and forth several times between Hawke and the ex-Templar.

"Well, shit."

xxxx

Rylen was in his office for a change. While he'd been gone, a pile of reports found their way to his seldom-used desk. He wanted to finish his work quickly so he could find Marian. Other than the brief kiss earlier, there had been no opportunity to see her all day. He almost chuckled to himself remembering the look on her dwarf friend's face at the affectionate greeting. He'd done it on purpose, of course.

Starting with the night he first kissed her, he made it a point to find subtle, and not so subtle, ways to remind her that he had nothing to do with her past and that she was free to be free of that past with him. She often still bristled at him, or complained or lobbed a sarcastic barb his way but he didn't really care. Taking a chance at that kiss this morning was a bold move and he half expected he would need to deflect an irate fireball. He was pleasantly surprised that he escaped both unsinged and with the reward of making her blush like a Chantry sister. And he'd made his fair share of those blush in the past, but none of them were like Marian.

He'd been spending nearly all of his spare time with her. She continued to brew him her healing potions which helped immensely and he was even able to cut back on his philter. When the reduced dose caught up with him again, she seemed to sense it and sought him out despite his attempt to keep her apart from the consequences of his addiction by retreating to solitude in the desert. She even offered to spar with him. At first, he hesitated. Getting caught smiting rocks was one thing but actually showing her how much of a Templar he still was? That was very different. It was she, however, who persisted.

"You may not feel as though your Templar abilities have lessened, but if you continue to lower your lyrium dose they will. If we spar when you feel like this, we can gauge your powers. I'll be able to tell when they start to dwindle. You'll have some measure that you're making progress and getting it out of your system, so you know you're not suffering in vain, that there's an end to it, that you'll be free."

Even through the pain of the withdrawals, his gut clenched at her words. He wondered how long she'd been waiting to be free too.

So they sparred. She didn't hold back and neither did he. Though they never came to harm at the other's hands, they both respected the fact that if they weren't careful, they could, and in more ways than just the physical.

It was for that reason, he was trying to take it slow. For both their sakes. But Andraste's arse it was getting hard. She was definitely a handful, his Hawke.

His. Maker damn her, he wanted to make her his.

xxxx

Hawke sat amidst the crowd surrounding Varric in the canteen. He was spinning a tale of the Inquisitor's latest conquest. Hawke rolled her eyes and took a sip from her mug when the crowed gasped at the descriptions of Trevelyan felling a dragon with her magic.

As if no one's ever done that before…

She decided to stop listening. This was a double edged sword. She wouldn't have to hear about the Inquisitor's lackluster exploits, but whenever she let her mind wander on its own, it wandered to Rylen.

You want him.

This time, she rolled her eyes at herself. Maker help her, she did want him. A Templar. She fucking wanted a Templar like she couldn't remember wanting anything in a long while. Looking back, she didn't know how the bastard had done it. With his common sense and his wit, that damn accent and those blue eyes he'd somehow made her want him.

She wanted to trace his tattoos with her fingers. She wanted to send little sparks of magic down their clean lines across his skin and hear him groan with desire at her touch. She fantasized endlessly about him holding her, driving into her, solid and strong, heavy, immovable, unwavering with that relentless, accursed Templar stamina until she came so hard she set the fortress on fire with the resulting uncontrollable swell of her magic.

Fuck. How had it come to this?

And even more than that, she didn't care. She liked thinking about him. She liked being around him. It was so easy and quiet. He didn't have any agendas or issues. Even his lyrium addiction and his mission to overcome it was honest. It was an important and meaningful goal. It was something she could help him with and not lose herself in the process. She'd given enough of herself to too many people in the past. Rylen didn't seem to want to take anything from her. He just wanted her.

She threw back the rest of her ale and slammed the tankard down onto the table. Nodding at Varric, she stood and left the bar. She made a decision and she felt good about it. She felt like herself for the first time in for-absolutely-fucking-ever. So it was time to act like Hawke.

xxxx

Rylen was just signing off on the last report when Hawke burst into his office. She didn't even knock.

"Why of course you can come in, Marian. My office is your office." He waved his hand out at the small space.

"Let's fuck."

She blurted out the directive with the least amount of romance he'd ever heard in such a statement. He almost laughed but fortunately he caught himself. He slowly and neatly arranged the finished reports into a pile on his desk while deliberately ignoring her ridiculous order. He could feel her magic fuming at his lack of response. He had to bite back a smile.

When he was done with his unnecessary organizing he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. She was almost about to hurl an ice shard at him in reprisal for his silence so, he spoke. But he braced himself while he did it.

"I'm not going to 'fuck' you Marian."

Impatient rage sparked in her eyes and she opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her.

"Shh. Let me finish."

Did you just shush the Champion of Kirkwall? The lyrium withdrawals must be robbing you of your sense.

He continued anyway. Rising from his chair he side stepped the desk to stand before her. He could feel her magic all over him now, angry waves of it held in check but ready to burst forth. She was a powerful mage and he knew that, without more lyrium, she could probably best him in a fight. The realization made him feel...alive. He inched closer to her, trying to make his physical presence every bit as large as her magic. When they were nothing but a breath apart, he leaned forward and whispered close to her ear, while he inhaled the scent of her hair.

"I can't fuck you Marian, because when I finally have you, I want to make love to you."

She was silent and still for a moment and he worried he'd laid it on a bit thick until, in a flash of movement, she was wrapped around him and her lips were on his.

He caught her up in his arms and let her assault him. She was heated passion, reckless abandon and tender aggression. She was everything he knew she would be for him, everything he knew she was. She'd simply forgotten.

He carefully turned them and backed her up to the desk. When he tried to sit her on it, she protested.

"We're not doing this on your desk."

The blood has long since rushed out of his head and he had to focus to process her objection when seconds ago, she was the one who demanded to be 'fucked' and then accosted him. He cleared his throat, trying to find a voice that wasn't slurred with lust.

"Why not?"

She looked up at him disapprovingly. "Because it's stupid and uncomfortable. Only an idiot with his head up his arse would try to make love to a woman on a desk." Then, her tone softened with an innocent vulnerability that he found every bit as arousing as her boldness. "Take me to your bed."

xxxx

Rylen picked her up and carried her from the office. They traveled the length and breadth of Griffon Wing to get to his rooms. Neither of them cared who saw them, nor were they even paying attention. It took them some time because every other step was interrupted by leisurely kisses and whispered words.

Hawke was dizzy with need when he kicked open his door and kicked it closed again. She scrambled out of his arms and started yanking off his armor as he guided her backwards to the bed. Pieces of metal clanged on the stone floor where she tossed them and garments of tight leather were stripped from him and discarded as well.

Soon he was as naked as the Maker made him, wearing only the black ink of his tattoos. Light from the moons shone in through a window and she took a step back to admire him. Just as she fantasized about, she reached up to his shoulders and started tracing the lines with the tips of her fingers. At first, she held back her magic, but he quickly sensed she was doing just that. He covered her hands with his where they rested on his chest.

"As you like to keep reminding me, I'm a Templar. If I was scared of magic, we wouldn't be here right now." He offered her a wicked grin. "Do your worst, mage."

She couldn't help but laugh. At herself, at him, at the fact that before she met him, her head might have exploded with rage at such an exchange. Now, it was just funny.

And fucking sexier than anything she could ever have imagined.

Her fingers returned to their task, this time with the chill of ice instilled in them. She ran the cool magic along his heated skin and he shivered under her touch, all while his eyes burned for her. Lower and lower she traveled until she grazed his hips, then cupped his behind squeezing the taut muscles there and barely holding back a moan at the feeling of them. He let her continue her exploration, clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth against a moan of his own when she gripped his shaft. She ran her hands up and down his length, hard and heavy and huge. He proudly let her work him grunting in time with her strokes.

Soon the urge to have him wouldn't be silenced any longer. She pushed him back onto the bed. He complied and rested on his elbows, his cock bobbing with the movement. While he watched, she undressed. Slowly, she exposed the rest of what she'd kept hidden from him and the rest of the world.

When she was as naked as he, she paused and let him look at her in the moonlight, just as he'd afforded her a view of him. But where a Templar is expected to have battle scars, no one would think a mage should be so marred. The silvery beams from the moon shone on the evidence that she'd lived a full and brutal life before he'd met her. Her time with the Red Iron and wounds from darkspawn that only a miracle prevented from being tainted showed on her body. There was a giant gash from the Arishok that almost killed her and a wound that still stung from Meredith's red lyrium sword.

She let him see them all. Some part of her knew that this man, more than any she'd ever met, would accept them, accept her.

Rylen eventually rose to stand again. He mirrored her previous actions and ran his fingers along her scars. His touch was so sure, he was so sure of himself. No movement tentative, no movement wasted. When he finished with her scars, he caressed her hips, her arms, her collarbones, the swell of her breasts. He pulled her towards him.

His manhood pressed against her core and her legs almost buckled at the delicious feeling of it. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed up the slope of her shoulder. Nuzzling his nose against her ear, he told her just what he thought of her scars.

"So fucking beautiful…"

She didn't think she could continue standing. The fire that shot through her at his words seemed to melt the very bones inside her limbs. She pushed him down again and climbed into bed after him.

Straddling his narrow hips, she ran her hands along the ripples of muscle at his flanks and up to his arms. She pushed them above his head, clasping their hands together and leaning her weight forward on them. The smirk he gave her renewed her desire to hear him moan for her. Without taking her eyes from his, she shifted her hips forward and back, gliding her wetness for him across his eager and twitching hardness. He lifted up his own pelvis seeking more contact which earned him a kiss.

She tangled their tongues and nipped at his lips. She tasted him, devoured him, all while gyrating against him. His smirk soon vanished and his intermittent moans turned to growls as he fought back against the grip she had on his hands where she kept them pinned above his head.

If he really wanted, he could have broken free. She would have been no match for his brute strength, but he let her have control. She somehow thought that giving up control in any situation was probably as hard for him as it was for her, so she didn't wait any longer to reward him for his sacrifice.

Lifting and tilting her pelvis, she positioned herself over his throbbing cock and with one smooth movement, she seated him fully inside her.

They both gasped at the contact. Eyes fell closed and breathing quickened. She stayed still, allowing herself to adjust to him. When she finally started moving, it was with a slow rise and fall. The slick up and down, the fullness, the stretch, the heat of him was sublime. She could tell it took all his effort to hold his position and let her have her way. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead and his muscles were all tense beneath her. She kept up the deliberate pace as long as she could until the first stirrings of her climax made her movements erratic with the desperate need to have him take control and plunge deep inside her.

A slight lessening in the pressure she kept on his hands was all it took to communicate her desires to him. He broke free with no effort at all and flipped her over so fast her head spun. He moved his hands to cup her behind and then he slid them up the backs of her thighs, lifting them, pushing back on them so she was spread wide and exposed to him. Holding her open, he leaned his whole body forward and entered her with a force that shoved her backwards on the bed.

Hawke threw her head back at the feeling of him over her, thrusting into her now, his chest pressed to hers, their heartbeats pounding in time together. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on as he took them both over the edge. She was blinded by the ecstasy of letting go and she let the pleasure of him, of them, of their bliss, wash over her. He shouted her name as he crested and she shouted his, over and over until the intensity of her climax made the sounds of his name devolve into whimpers.

It seemed forever until they came down from their high. Sated, complete, calm. He collapsed down beside her, turning her so that her back was against his chest and he was holding her from behind.

Over the next hours, she lay awake, slowly regaining her senses. The desert night stretched out, enveloping them, blanketing their small oasis in the serenity of quiet darkness. Coherent thoughts started forming again. She realized she wasn't sure if she should stay. Everything she was feeling was all so new. This was all so new. She was unable to decide what she should do. She ruminated on it even as she enjoyed the feeling of his breath where it gently tickled her skin. If he was asleep she was loathe to wake him. She tried as quietly as she could to slip away.

Quick like lightning, he tightened his arms around her.

"Stay, love." He said sleepily. "Please. Just stay."

She settled back into his embrace without question and with a smile on her face. She would stay. In his bed. In this place. With him. She would stay.