For all her skills as a rogue, Marian Hawke was terrible at one-to-one fighting. If she couldn't sneak up on her target and immobilise them before dancing around with her daggers, she was in trouble. After yet another battle in which Fenris had had to step in and distract her target, he had sighed and offered to coach her in hand-to-hand fighting, as a thank you for the hours she had spent teaching him to read.

She'd been irritated at first, feeling as if he was patronising her, but the truth was she knew that she was not the strongest scrapper and if she could learn from anyone, then Fenris was surely the best.

And so she found herself at his mansion one evening, dressed in her new armour as he demonstrated how to parry, and how to block even with the slimmest blade.

Fenris was finding the lesson particularly difficult. It was not that Hawke was a slow learner, or that she had no enthusiasm for the task at hand. No, the main problem was that the new armour she had purchased was uncharacteristically short, with a skirt of pteruges below the waist which flipped up with every turn and thrust that she made, allowing Fenris a glimpse of caramel-skinned thigh. He was uncomfortable in his tight leather breeches and slightly breathless with the distraction of his overactive imagination. He felt hot and bothered and his ears were burning with the truth of his thoughts.

Swish. Maker, that dagger was close. He heard her chuckle throatily as she closed in on his body, pushing him up against the wall with one forearm against his chest, other arm holding the wickedly sharp dagger to his throat.

"That's cheating, Fenris," she said, half-teasing, half-angry. "You're letting me win on purpose, you're not even trying."

"No, Hawke. I'm sorry, I…" he trailed off, wondering how to explain his lack of focus.

"What? You'll need to do better than that," she said, pressing him further against the wall. He closed his eyes as he felt her thigh come into contact with his groin and heard her inhale sharply before spinning away from him.

"Right," she said, throwing down her daggers. "New rules. Fist fight, no weapons. And no lyrium ghosting."

Fenris swallowed hard and remained standing against the wall, watching her approach, her eyes narrowed and her entire stance predatory. He dropped his greatsword and stepped forward.

She was quicker than he thought she would be. No sooner had he reached for her than she was twisting her body and pirouetting behind him, one hand on his bicep and wrenching his arm behind his back. He hissed in pain and whirled round to meet her, his hand on her shoulder and pushing her backwards towards the wall. She kicked out with one foot, meeting his thigh and almost causing him to fall. He swore and tightened his grip, feeling his gauntlets digging into the muscles at the base of her neck. She shouted a curse and pushed her body forwards, this time curling her leg behind him and digging her heel hard into the softness of the back of his knee.

He let go of her abruptly as he felt himself wobble on suddenly feeble legs. Never one to let an advantage slide, Hawke knocked her foot across his ankles and her eyes gleamed as he fell to the floor, gasping. She knelt over him swiftly, one leg either side of his chest, laughing in triumph.

"Do you submit, O Powerful Warrior?" she said, a wicked smile on her lips.

Fenris lay on his back looking up at her, speechless. He had no idea if Hawke was aware of the fact that her position meant that she was quite exposed to him. He couldn't stop himself glancing at her soft tanned thighs, her plain white underwear… his breath caught in his throat as he noticed that she seemed to be aroused, the cotton of her smallclothes damp and musky.

"Hawke," he said, his voice low.

She didn't move, didn't speak, just sat there straddling his body with her eyes flashing and that suggestive grin on her face.

It was too much. He needed to see. Fenris grabbed her thighs and began to pull her closer to him. Unresisting, she allowed her body to be dragged closer to where his head lay, eyes looking up at her hungrily.

He raised his head, pressing his nose against her and inhaling the tang of her scent. He could feel the moistness against his face, hear her whimper as he pressed his lips to her through the cotton. His senses felt aflame, and he was almost overwhelmed with the feelings that were shooting through his body, the smells, the touches, the pure electricity of his own arousal. He couldn't quite believe this was happening, couldn't believe she was so wet, all for him.

"Hawke," he murmured again, almost subconsciously. He felt that all other words had deserted him, that only her name remained.

She stood suddenly, if a little unsteadily, and he gasped as she slid her smalls down her legs and kicked them off inelegantly, the garment landing on the small table in front of the fireplace. He did not notice, all of his attention fixed on her. He had never seen a woman like this before, and he thought she was a more beautiful sight than he could ever have imagined.

His mouth moved soundlessly as she stood over him, half naked and glistening with desire. For him. His throat was dry and he knew he was staring.

"I think you should let me see you. It's only fair," she said, her voice steady and confident.

He was helpless and lost beneath her, the warrior defeated. Battle was easy, compared to this.

She huffed a laugh and dropped to her knees again, this time facing his feet. She leaned over and began to untie his breeches. The feel of her fingers brushing against his cock as he looked up at her was almost too much. He clenched his jaw and struggled for control.

Hawke made a noise like a sigh as his cock sprang free, and he watched in astonishment as she dipped her head to him and… what is she doing, oh, Hawke, her lips were soft and her mouth was warm and he had never known sensations like this in his life. He groaned loudly and involuntarily, overwhelmed with the sheer bliss that was running through his entire body.

Her hips wriggled above him and he snapped back into himself, pulling her down to meet his mouth. He ran his tongue experimentally along her slit, tasting her arousal. She moaned around his shaft, causing him to twitch and tense. The feel of her lips and tongue running over his cock while he licked her was exquisite and it took all of his willpower to hold on, to savour the moment for as long as possible.

Fenris raised one hand and explored her with a finger as his tongue circled and pressed against her nub, bringing gasps and whimpers from her which delighted him. She tasted tangy, almost peaty, and he thought he wouldn't ever tire of doing this for her. He hummed in sheer pleasure, losing himself completely in the moment, in another's body. He had never thought it would be like this, not thought such feelings possible.

And the unbelievable experience of her lips against him, the heat of her mouth, the caress of her tongue sliding up and down his length. He knew he never wanted her to stop doing this. He wondered why they had never done this before.

She was suckling gently on the head of his cock now, her fingers questing along the velvet skin of his shaft, down towards his balls. He arched his back as he felt her cup him, stroking him as she moved her lips over his sensitive tip. Can't
hold on much longer.

Struggling to concentrate, Fenris' own movements were becoming erratic. His head fell back as he felt himself tense, nearing his peak. "Oh, Hawke," he said, almost a sob, as his muscles tautened and he cried out wordlessly as he came apart beneath her, spilling his seed with a final fierce thrust, his climax more powerful than he had ever experienced before. He felt as if his entire body had been electrified, pulsing frantically into her mouth, feeling her lapping at his cock as he began to come down from the pure ecstasy of his release.

Sated, he returned his attention to Hawke. She writhed and whined above him as he parted her folds and swept his tongue across her, dipping into her before flicking across her clitoris. Now all of his focus was on her, on making her feel as good as he had. He pushed two fingers inside her, sliding them through her wetness and curling them to press against her when she wailed. He felt her clench against his fingers, felt her tighten, and then she was shouting his name as her entire body shuddered in a climax intense enough to match his own.

Neither of them moved for more than a minute as they lay gasping in the afterglow of the unexpected intimacy. Then Hawke sighed loudly and tucked him back into his breeches before rolling over and scooting to lie beside him.

"Well. That was…" she said, wonderingly.

"Unexpected?" Fenris raised his eyebrows.

"That. And incredible. Thank you," she said, smiling, one hand draped across his waist.

He chuckled. "It was my pleasure," he said.

"And mine, I can assure you. So…" she tilted her head, looked a question at him.

"Hawke?"

"Are you going to make me walk the, ooh, hundred yards back to my house, or…" Hawke gave him another of those wicked grins that had got them to this moment in the first place.

He felt a brief panic in his chest but swallowed it down. "I'd like you to stay."

She took his hand and led him upstairs.

It was late morning of the following day when Aveline and Isabela let themselves in to the derelict mansion, wondering why neither Hawke nor Fenris had shown up for their agreed meeting to discuss how they were going to approach the Coterie rogue Brekker.

Aveline had to physically restrain the pirate from going up the stairs when she found a pair of discarded cotton smalls on the table in front of the fire.

Oh, but Isabela was going to enjoy this little story.