Dragon Age Things Left Unsaid

A/N: The lyrics that follow are from the song I was listening to when I got the idea for this little tidbit. If you're interested or have a second I recommend giving it a listen or at the very least checking out the rest of the lyrics as I feel they all do apply. I do not own Dragon Age or any of it's characters. This smidge of fiction was done for fun not for profit. Also this is my first foray into this sort of adult writing. Not smutty (I don't think) so please be gentle. Please enjoy!

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Hello, I'm your martyr, will you be my gangster can you feel my trigger hand, moving further down your back when you hide, hide inside that body but just remember that when I touch you the more you shake, the more you give away …

…you're so endearing, you're so beautiful, well I don't look like they do, and I don't love like they do but I don't hate like they do am I ever on your mind? "Cold (but I'm Still Here)"-Evan's Blue

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He slammed through the door of the mansion anger pulsing through his body leaving starbursts in front of his eyes and making his head pound. He stripped his armor off and flung it heedlessly as he ascended the stairs to his chamber. His skin was sticky with blood. His. Hers. He didn't know and didn't want to. It began to harden and crust as the air hit it.

He had peeled off everything but his breeches by the time he reached the rain barrel on the balcony. The night air was crisp and this long past sundown the water promised to be as well. He didn't care. He had to get the blood off. It clung to his skin, matted his hair.

Stained his hands.

He plunged them into the frigid water elbow deep biting back a hiss at the shock. He began to scrub himself vigorously up his arms to his shoulders, his chest and stomach finally dunking his head.

Dripping, his teeth chattering, he bee-lined for the main bedchamber with it's enormous fireplace and thick fur rugs. Fear sent his heart tripping when he realized the fire was already lit and he was unarmed. It was quickly replaced by anger at the thought of someone invading his private space. Cautiously. Quietly he slipped through the doorway and into the room.

"Fenris. Come sit by the fire with me. I've brought a very nice bottle of Malleolus. Certified free of the blood and or tears of any slaves Tevinter or otherwise." Her voice was a rough thing. Worn and wispy. Her eyes….. He could tell she'd been crying. It was disturbing and despite the fact that his instinct to protect her was rearing up hard he couldn't bring himself to walk another step into the room. So much had happened in the last 48 hours. So much had changed. He wanted to soothe her tears but he could not get the sight of her cutting herself out of his head.

"It's just wine and still sealed you can check for yourself." She held the bottle out to him. Something flickered behind her eyes. Hope maybe? Whatever it was it passed as quickly as it had come leaving her somehow deflated in the high backed chair.

He stepped slowly through the doorway along the wall and to the wardrobe where he kept his spare tunic. He shrugged into it keeping his eyes on her. She hadn't turned when he'd gone beyond her field of vision only dropped her chin down. He studied her profile in the flickering light.

Not classically beautiful but stunning all the same and not diminished by the criss cross of scars near her jaw. A gift from an overzealous Templar hardly past his initiation.

His jaw tightened, hand spasmed into a fist. The things he'd like to do to that man.

"Why are you here?" He asked walking toward the fire. He stood with his back to her staring into the flames. He heard a pop then the sound of liquid flowing into a glass.

"Am I no longer welcome?" The question held meaning beyond what the words allowed.

"I….." He faltered not used to dealing with the well of emotion swelling inside. "…..do not know."

He looked down at his hands. Clean. Smooth. Pale skin traced with white whorls of lyrium. So recently crimson coated.

Her blood pumping hot and fast from half a dozen self inflicted slashes.

A flash of brilliance like midday then the templar were no longer backing them against the wall.

Turning to her. Catching her as she fell. "Hawke!"

The sound of his own voice echoing her name off the stone while he watched her eyelids flutter and her breathing slow.

Her head lolling bonelessly as he ran. Ran to the only place he could think to go. Ignoring the warm wet that soaked into the leather of his armor and through the thin material beneath.

Pounding on the door of the clinic.

His teeth grinding together as that abomination looked him over judgment in his muddy brown eyes.

They'd argued, Anders and he. Argued over her prone form like two mongrels over a scrap of meat.

Then he'd left. Confused and angry and hurt beyond his capacity to cope. He'd wandered unsure what to do with himself until he'd come across a band of slavers near the docks. What was a little more blood on his hands? Besides it had served to distract him long enough to get his head back on straight.

He watched the flames jump and waver. Heard the wood pop, pop but it wasn't fire he smelled. It was her. Like dirt and spice and flowers and magic.

He felt rather than saw her stand and move behind him. He closed his eyes. Waiting. Waiting.

He expected her to slip a hand along the smooth muscles of his back or wind her arms about his waist as she'd done so many times before. His skin pricked in anticipation of her breath on his neck.

He was more than startled when instead he felt her fingers dig into his shoulder. She spun him around hard and fast then pushed him against the wall. He'd started to struggle but it was in vain. He could tell by how easily she breathed that it was more than simple physical force that kept him pinned.

He growled deep in his throat his hands fisted so tight his knuckles had gone bone white. The bite of his cleanly shaped fingernails was nothing compared to the pain of this last betrayal. She'd never before used magic against him.

"Release me."

She shook her head slowly side to side causing golden glints to spark off her face as the firelight bounced off teartracks. She placed one hand on either of his cheek. Gently. Pushed her fingers up through his hair. He wanted to close his eyes and lean into that touch but checked himself dragging up the memory of her blood.

"Hawke. You will release me."

She clenched the fingers that twined in his hair making his scalp burn. He almost yelped the action was so quick and unexpected.

She loosened her grasp and slid her hands back down. Down his shoulders his chest. His belly, coiled so tight inside it felt as though he would snap at any second.

She looked up at him. Her eyes wrote a thousand words upon his soul. Desire, sorrow, anger….fear. And he felt them too.

"Hawke…" He'd meant it as a warning or... a plea. He didn't know. The lines were blurring. He clenched his jaw the rest of his body strung tight as a bowstring. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as he pictured himself wrapping his hands around her neck. Then pulling her in to devour her mouth.

She pulled a dagger from her boot and carefully slit the laces tying his tunic. The rest of the leather was left undamaged. She slid the blade feather light across his skin.

He swallowed hard. His breath hitched as his body responded of it's own accord. Muscles trembling but not from any effort to free himself.

She stood on toepoint bringing her face level with his. Her mouth was so close he could smell the wine she'd been drinking. He wondered if he'd still be able to taste it. Suddenly it was all he wanted. To taste that wine in her mouth. On her tongue.

She dropped the dagger. The clatter as it landed on the cracked tile was muffled by the sound of blood rushing in his ears. Her hand traced the path the blade had traveled moments before. Her skin was colder than the rainwater he'd bathed in. The hand halted it's progress when it came to rest with fingers on one side of his throat and thumb on the other.

"Remember the first time I pushed you against a wall?" She breathed against his mouth. His gut twisted as the sensation traveled along his nerves to settle in his groin like a hot boulder. His brands flared to life just like they had that night. Burning him from the inside out. He remembered.

He growled again. Long and loud. It rumbled up from inside him like a volcano erupting. She tightened the slender fingers that gripped his throat. Nails lightly scoring his skin. His whole body vibrated. She leaned closer. Close enough that he could feel the warmth of her lips as they hovered that breath from his.

He could close that distance. Plunge his tongue into her mouth and see if the sweetness of that wine lingered there. He almost did.

She loosed her grip on his throat and let that hand skim back down his chest. She pushed his tunic down his arms and onto the floor. His skin felt suddenly cold when she lifted her fingers away. He almost moaned in protest.

He barely had time to register that he was still pinned despite her removing her hands before her nimble fingers began to pluck at her own crimson covering. It slithered away with a soft hiss.

That was when he broke. Not with the sound of thunder or the roar of gaatlock but with the sigh of silk. Like the last breath of a dying man happy to go to his end. And in a way he was. He no longer saw blood. He saw only her, perfect in her imperfection. She was the only thing that could both destroy and redeem him.

He leaned in capturing her lips and plundering within before she could react. Could pull away and leave him wondering forever about the wine.

He did taste it. Lightly sweet and full bodied. Heady. He wanted more.

She leaned into him pressing the softness of her body against the firmness of his. He pushed against the force keeping him immobile and found it slipping.

He felt her heartbeat pounding against his chest. She started to pull away. His tongue darted against hers. Beckoning. She'd refused him when he asked for release. He wasn't going to let her go now.

"Give it to me." He ground out nostrils flaring pulling in the scent of spice and ozone that was wholly hers. It made his head whirl. Took him away to another night. A night when she'd smiled as he'd kissed her under the stars.

"Hawke," he lowered his voice but didn't soften his tone. He wasn't asking.

And she did. He tried to put everything that crashed about inside him into that kiss. Not least of all that fact that deep down he still loved her.

The last of the magic faded away and he was free. He grabbed her around the waist with one arm closing the distance to the great fourposter in quick determined strides not breaking even when he reached out with his free hand to snag the malleolus from it's perch on the fireside table.

He threw her onto the bed trembling slightly when he let her go. He leaned with one knee on the bed and one foot on the floor as he pulled the cork from the bottle with his teeth. He tipped it back and took a long swig savoring the tang and light sweetness knowing it wouldn't be enough to satisfy him. Not by a long shot. He looked down at her one arm thrown carelessly across her belly. Her hair a deep chocolate heap around her head.

He tipped the bottle again but this time he let the rich ruby liquid run down the dip in her abdomen to pool in her navel. She closed her eyes lips parted. He lowered himself and dipped his tongue into the puddle, dragged it across her flesh sipping and licking and pouring.

She writhed beneath him her fingers finding his hair and digging into his scalp. He moved up her body stopping to kiss the hollow between her breasts. Biting into the tender spot where her shoulder joined her neck. She gasped bucking against him.

He found her lips again. He felt her touch feather light as her fingers skittered across his back and around to clutch him through his breeches.

Heat flooded his limbs. His head began to spin. Then he was skin to skin with her. His fingers tingling with the need to touch. He plunged his hands into her hair. She pulled at him. Straining. Her body going taut as his had before.

"Fenris." His name was a plea. Crawling from her lips and burrowing into him. He came to her. Giving her what she'd asked for. Taking what he needed. Over and over they crashed into each other like waves breaking against a rocky shore. Her fingers dug into his back. Into his brands. Causing his skin to burn. He quickened pace spurred on by her gasps and cries.

She matched him stroke for stroke her legs twining and tightening about his own. He lifted his torso shifted her. He needed more. Needed to be closer. He dragged her up until she straddled his lap his arms wrapped about her one hand still tangled in her hair.

She dropped her head back baring her throat to him in an act both terrifying and arousing.

"Fenris!" This time it was a cry as she came apart in his arms. Her body shuddering and clutching at his. He closed his mouth over the pale skin of her throat biting down as he joined her.

He collapsed against the bed trapping her between the feather tick and his overheated body.

A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye. I'm sorry. She didn't say. He brushed it away with the pad of his thumb.

He kissed her again. Softly. I know. He rolled to the side then pulled her up against his chest. She fit into the curve of his body like she was made to lie there. She twined her fingers with his and laid their hands over her heart.

He lay awake breathing in the scent of her hair and listening to the cadence of her breathing as it slowed becoming heavy and even. He noticed a drop of crimson in her hair and it brought back the sight of her covered in blood. His chest constricted and he tightened his hold.

Never again. He simply had to make sure she was safe. Make sure she never needed to resort to that again. He wiggled the fingers on his right hand. His sword arm was well muscled and strong. He could keep her safe. He would keep her safe.

"I am yours." He whispered before the deep rhythm of her breath pulled him too into the fade.


End file.

Dragon Age, Angst, Romance