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He didn’t expect her to kiss him.
He anticipated it. Dreaded it. But he didn’t expect it now.
Hadriana is fresh in his mind. But this isn’t Hadriana. It isn’t Danarius. It’s Hawke. Her touch is gentle and loving and nothing like anything he remembers. Even though she’s just pushed him up against the wall -- fair enough, he did it first -- and it should frighten him, being trapped by her, it doesn’t, because he knows that if he asked Hawke to let him go she wouldn’t hesitate.
He doesn’t want her to let him go. He wants to let her touch him. He wants to taste her skin, feel her soft breath against his ear. He wants to hold her tighter, until the glow of his brands lights up the room and their bodies meld into one. He wants to --
He kisses her back.
Hawke, he whispers against her mouth. Hawke. My Hawke. And maybe she understands that what he means is let me make love to you, because she takes his hand and leads him up to her room.
She pulls off her clothing, slowly, and the sight is almost worth having to let go of her for such a long moment. And then she’s kissing him again -- his mouth, his ears, the brands on his neck -- and he remembers what comes next, but she stops and pulls back and strokes his cheek. I am yours, she says, however you want me.
Every way I can, he means to say, but what comes out is Hawke.
She helps him pull off his gauntlets, and that’s enough to make him feel naked. But now he can touch her, and he does, exploring her bare skin as she pulls off his armor. She touches his brands. She can see all of him now, how the lyrium covers his body, and he doesn’t know what she wants to say about it, but he kisses her so she can’t say anything.
Somehow he ends up on top of her on the bed. He’s not used to this position, doesn’t quite know how they’re supposed to fit together. But then her hands are on him and his fingers are inside her and she’s crying out Fenris, and his body figures out what to do. When he finds his peak before her, she just smiles and kisses him and shows him where to touch to make her follow.
He’s afraid to move -- afraid it will break the spell -- until she opens her eyes again and whispers please stay. He falls asleep inside her, tangled up in her, never wanting to let go of --
But then he dreams.