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Sizzle! Burn! Steam!	By : Hatsepsut Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 26114 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Bioware owns the Dragon Age universe, the characters and my soul. I make no money out of this.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
“Welcome to Antiva!” A cheerful voice greeted them as soon as they set foot on the chaotic harbour, amid hordes of people milling about, carting goods and carrying conversations in colourful, exotic Antivan, with wild, exuberant gestures punctuating each word.
Fenris instinctively slipped his body in front of Hawke, his urge to protect her as strong as always, before the owner of the rich, accented voice appeared in front of them. His lip curled in mild dislike.
Zevran.
The damned assassin. They had helped him escape a group of Crows that had been hunting him, a few years ago. The damned assassin had stayed on in Kirkwall ‘for a few days’ as he had said, that had quickly turned into weeks, even following them on some of their quests and hitting on everything on two legs, be it male or female. He didn't like the man, he had instantly disliked him, especially since he had had the audacity to preposition his Hawke; and with him standing right there, beside her. The fact that Hawke had looked mildly interested hadn’t helped either. To add insult to injury, Zevran had shamelessly flirted with him as well, and even had had the cheek to suggest an ‘Antivan sandwich’.
He’d had no idea how close to a ripped out heart that had gotten him.
Fenris huffed as Hawke embraced Zevran and kissed him on the cheek. The thrice cursed assassin had offered them sanctuary in Antiva after the whole mess in Kirkwall, and weary by being hunted down like dogs, they had accepted. Everybody else, Varric, Aveline and her husband, even Merrill, had long ago left them, each heading to their own destination: Varric back to Kirkwall, Aveline to Orlais and Merrill only the Maker knew where. Isabela had graciously agreed to ferry them to Antiva, where Zevran, now being a Master Crow, could offer them protection.
Fenris had protested, knowing that the Crow would make his everyday breathing, living hell, but in the end he had not been able to provide any alternatives and practicality had won.
The assassins’ amber gaze settled on the elven warrior, a small smirk playing on his mouth.
“Fenris, my delicious friend,” Zevran drawled, while his eyes gave Fenris a thorough once over, “ I see you have lost weight. Hawke has been ....exercising you vigorously, si?”
Fenris just growled.
This was going to be torture.

Zevran stretched and opened one of the French doors leading to his balcony. Such a glorious summer morning! The sun was already turning the leaves of his olive trees a silvery white, and he could see his workers between the rows of vines on his vineyard, tending to the ripening grapes. There was something sinfully languid about mornings like this, a feeling that doing anything else than basking in the sun with a glass of wine would be a crime, an affront to the scenery that Antiva so graciously provided.
He leaned over the balcony rail and lazily soaked up the early morning sun, listening to the chirping of birds in the distance, perfectly content. Well, no. Not perfectly, if he was being honest with himself. Ever since Hawke and Fenris had arrived to his estate he had felt...restless.
Brasca, they were both so beautiful, so...so alluring. And completely devoted to each other, completely besotted with one another. He had tried, Maker he had tried, he so wanted a taste of them both; not just sexually. He just wanted to be included into that easy familiarity, that open affection between them. He had a suspicion sharing their bed would be a life altering experience; the only thing was, Fenris didn't share.
Damn him.
A little breathless moan on his right snapped him right out of his heated thoughts and he moved to the corner of his balcony. The doors to Fenris and Hawke’s room was slightly ajar and if he leaned just so, he had a clear view into their bedroom.
Biting his lip, he watched, his breath starting to pant, as that damned masterpiece of an elf stood next to the bed, his glorious, lyrium adorned body held tensely still; Hawke, on her knees in front of him was looking up to him with a heated, adoring look as she took him deep, deep into her throat, one hand wrapped around the base of his shaft and the other squeezing his ass.
Zevran started drooling.
Maker, they were so beautiful together, so absolutely, completely hot. They moved together like dancers; easily, familiarly, intimately. Fenris was moaning now, as she continued to suck him, and both his hands were tangled into her midnight hair, while his head had fallen behind in bliss.
Zevran watched, enthralled as her mouth surrounded him, taking him deep and then withdrawing to twirl a sinfully pink tongue around the swollen mushroom like head of the other elf’s erection, and then take him down to the root again. Fenris’ legs were visibly shaking, and he stretched a hand out to support himself on the wooden beam of the bed’s posts. Zevran’s own hand trailed down his belly, to where his own erection, modest compared to that of the warrior, was already tenting his soft linen breeches. He dipped a hand in his smallclothes and took himself in hand, stroking to the same rhythm that Hawke was caressing the other elf’s member with her mouth. He tried to imagine how hot, how incredibly moist her mouth probably was, and had to bring a hand up to his mouth and bite hard to stifle a moan.
Fenris seemed to be having no such inhibitions, leaving one tortured moan after the other in his delicious, chocolate on gravel voice, until with a roar, he came hard, his buttocks tensing, his body thrusting in time with her sucking mouth. Zevran moaned himself, and came all over his hand and stomach, his eyes rolling back in frustrated pleasure.
He opened his eyes just in time to see Hawke lick her lips and smile coyly up to him, and Fenris’ muscles tense once again. As she shrieked when he picked her up and threw her on the bed, Zevran was left there, staring at the spot they had just vacated, listening to Hawke’s rugged breaths turn to moans and then screams.
Maker, he had to have them both. He just had to!

Fenris was just turning the corner of the corridor leading to the kitchens, having been sent down by a rather peckish Hawke to get her, something, anything as she had said, to eat. He smiled to himself, thinking of what he had been doing to make her so hungry. Zevran was right. They had both started losing weight from the rather intense...exercise.
He, no, they, could not help it. Now that the stress of being hunted had lifted, they had found themselves at it more times than he could count. There had been little time to..indulge while the whole city was crumbling to hell around them, and little privacy on board Isabela’s ship. But now...now they were making up for lost time. Repeatedly.
He was just about to open the door to the kitchen, when he heard a slight rustle and a heated whisper on his left. He tensed, and drew the dagger he always carried with him, concealed in his boot, and carefully rounded the corner of the corridor leading to the pantry to investigate.
What he saw made him nearly drop the dagger; his eyes grew as wide as dinner plates.
Zevran was locked in a heated embrace with not one, but two of his Crows, one female, one male. Armour and weapons littered the floor, and Fenris irrationally wondered ‘how many weapons do they each carry?’ before a moan made his attention snap back to the scene in front of him. He recovered from his shock quickly enough to hide behind the wall, and rested his head against the wall; trying to erase the strangely arousing images playing in his head, but the moans, now increasing in volume and urgency, didn't let him.
Zevran had been sandwiched between his two lovers, the woman draped all over his front like a vine, while the man was holding on to his hips and thrusting two of his fingers inside him.
Fenris’ eyes opened in confusion and curiosity. But...but that...that hurt. He could remember the burning pain and the shame when that had once been done to him, how could Zevran, how could anyone enjoy that?
Hawke had hinted at it a few times, and he had been mortified. Him, cause pain to his Hawke? That thing hurt!
He heard Zevran groaning, heated Antivan leaving his mouth in a ragged pant, and his breeches instantly shrunk a couple of sizes. Maker, but he liked hearing that elf speak in that language, it was so...so flowing, so silky and musical. He blushed, realising exactly what he had admitted to his own self, and then, unable to resist, he peeked around the corner.
Zevran was on his knees and hands, the woman writhing underneath him, and the man thrusting inside him in a frenzied, blinding rhythm. He watched as Zevran turned over his shoulder to exchange an open mouthed, sizzling kiss with the man, just before he bent his blond head to the woman and muffled her scream with a heated, devouring kiss.
Fenris watched, his breath quickening as they moved together, sweat glistening on their tangled bodies to the moonlight coming through one of the windows, their moans and screams echoing around him, making his blood run hot and bubbly in his veins.
He drew his eyes away. His brain that was telling him he had no business watching this battling with his baser instincts that were ordering him to join in, and leaned his head against the cool wall, trying to catch his breath. Hawke, naked on the bed came unbidden to his mind and he took off like a flash, reaching their room in record time; he barged in, and almost leapt on the bed.
“What?” Hawke managed to ask, before she found herself turned on her stomach and pulled up to all fours. “Where’s my food?”
A sudden powerful thrust, his staff surging inside her to fill her to overstretching, made her eyes bulge and all thought of food were forgotten in their mutual hunger.

When Hawke had asked him later what had brought on his...attack, he had been strangely awkward, and had avoided answering her, which she had found strange, but paid no more attention to.
He had been strangely quiet since then, though, and she was now suspecting there was something troubling him. She had caught him lost in thought more times than she could count, and other times he had been gazing at her with a look on his face she just couldn’t place; the fact that he had blushed when she had asked him what he had been thinking made the whole situation even more alarming.
She entered their room, hot and sweaty from her afternoon training session, only to find him leaned against the rail of the balcony, looking intently at something going on below. She crept up to him, and looked over his shoulder.
The gasp that escaped her made him jump almost a foot in the air and with mounting amusement she noticed that his breeches were hanging open and he had one hand wrapped around his length.
He stared at her, eyes wide and his cheeks beetroot red, while she looked from his face, to his hand, to Zevran having one of his usual trysts down below with one of his servants.
A smile spread on her face.
“Fenris?” she asked. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
His eyes fell and his shoulders-even his ears- drooped.
“Maker!” he breathed, mortified he had been caught red-handed, staring at another man while he was busy getting sucked dry by one of his male servants. “It’s not what it looks like, Hawke, honestly!”
Her cheeky grin spread even wider and she licked her lips as she too was drawn to the sight underneath. Maker, Zevran was hot. She had thought so when she had first met him, and she thought so even more so now.
“Let me see...” she moaned, one hand trailing down her stomach to where she was already drenching her smalls and the other wrapping around Fenris’ flagging erection. “It looks like you are getting...hot, at the sight of one delicious elf. Doesn’t it?”
Fenris shuddered as her hand expertly pumped him, just the way he liked it, hard and fast, squeezing him like a vice, and moaned helplessly.
“I don’t like men,” he protested weakly, but she just smiled at him, her eyes fogged as well, and kissed him.
“I don’t think less of you, you don’t have to lie,” she sweetly cooed his ear. “In fact,” and she tugged on him even faster, making him grip the rail with both hands, “I think it’s rather hot.”
Fenris swallowed hard, trying to keep from shouting out in both pleasure and relief, but the next words she uttered pushed him right over the edge, and he came like a fountain, spraying the rail with his seed.
“Shall I invite him to join us, or shall you?”

Zevran chuckled to himself as he approached the huge bathing chamber he’d had a dwarven master mason built in his mansion a few winters ago. Fenris and Hawke had fallen in love with it, and seemed to spend at least a few hours a day in there; and that was where they had invited him to join them. The invitation had been innocent enough on appearance, Hawke casually telling him that the huge sunken bathtub was big enough for them all and that they wouldn’t want to hog the room, keeping him from enjoying it. On the surface, yes it had been innocent, and polite. But the cheeky grin on Hawke’s face and the glint in her eyes, not to mention Fenris’ awkwardness, bespoke of different intentions.
His plan had worked. He had intentionally let the other elf ‘catch’ him in various compromising positions, with various partners, knowing that if that didn't spark his interest, nothing would. He had enjoyed himself immensely, the knowledge that Fenris was watching making the pleasure of these encounters even more acute, the naughtiness even greater. By the way the warrior had been avoiding his eyes all these past days while they were having dinner, he had known his plan had started working. Just last afternoon though, he caught a glimpse of them both on the balcony watching him, and he just knew that once Hawke was involved, things would either stop completely or progress much, much more.
Almost trembling with anticipation he paused in front of the door and knocked, trying to hide his excitement. A coy voice answered him and he stepped into the room, the air think with vapours and sinfully exotic fragrances; citrus oil and lavender, and various either oils.
“Am I intruding?” he asked, nearly holding his breath, as he noticed that Fenris’ head snapped up from the rim of the pool and his shoulders tensed.
Hawke shot a look to Fenris, and he nodded, almost imperceptibly.
Hawke turned to him with a bright smile and uttered just two words.
He nearly obeyed the second one on the spot.
“Zevran,” she had said, her voice breathless. “Come.”

Now, the only problem, Zevran thought as he casually disrobed and joined them in the hot water, is to make that damned elf loosen up a bit.
He glanced at Fenris out of the corner of his eye, at how tensely he was holding himself. He then looked at Hawke, taking in the look of heated interest she was sending him, and grinned. Well, he thought, no problem there.
He nodded to Hawke and grabbed a washcloth from the rack behind him. She nodded right back, understanding his intention without trouble and, taking one of the bars of soap, she moved towards her lover.
“Fenris,” she cajoled him, her soft voice gaining his attention, “Come. Let us wash your back.”
Fenris took a deep breath and then turned his back to them both, grateful for the chance to hide his expression from Zevran. He was terrified; showing his markings to the rogue for the first time had him as skittish as a virgin. He was terrified that the other man would be put off by them, or even worse, like them.
His breath left him in a whoosh as he felt two pairs of hands carefully lather up his back, and a soft washcloth rubbing tenderly over the tensed muscles, down his shoulders and his spine, all the way down to the dip of his waist.
“Do they hurt, my friend?” Zevran’s voice echoed next to his ear and he had to suppress a shudder at the delicious Antivan accent, thicker now with arousal.
“No. Not always. Not a lot,” he answered, his own voice chopped. “Don’t mind them.”
A tongue slid down one of his lines. Was it Zevran or Hawke? He didn't want to know, he didn't care to know. A hand wrapped around his waist, and he moaned, watching Hawke’s lithe fingers lather up his chest, paying special attention to the hard little point of his nipples.
He leaned back, and came across a hard, chiselled chest; Zevran. He turned his head to look at the other man, meeting the assassin’s eyes for the first time. The amber had turned to liquid fire, and he could not resist; with a groan, he let the other man kiss him, a wet, blistering hot kiss, while Hawke sighed in approval.
“Fenris...” Zevran moaned into the other man’s sinfully wicked mouth, taking in his delicious taste. “Tell me, amante, what do you want? Tell me what you need...”
Fenris pulled back and looked at both Hawke and Zevran, his eyes clouded by lust.
“I want you to teach me...” he muttered, his deep, hoarse voice sending shivers up both their spines. “I want to...Hawke. I’m afraid of hurting her.”
Zevran shot Hawke a perplexed look and she chuckled, and then proceeded to show him rather than explain what her lover meant; she half-climbed out of the tub and laid on her stomach, exposing her luscious behind to them both.
“Ah, the back door,” he chuckled. “The gateway to heaven itself, my friend. Come. I’ll show you,” he cupped Fenris face, and captured his lips in another kiss, before his voice dropped to a husky, promising murmur. “And then, I’ll show you.”
Fenris grasped his forearm. “No. I can’t... I can’t take another man having her. Tell me what to do...” he faltered, feeling a pang of guilt at the other elf’s crestfallen face. “Zevran, please.”
Zevran smiled. “I was hoping to have you both, my friend. But alas, you are a possessive bastard, aren’t you?”
Fenris smirked, mollified with how quickly the assassin had backed off, respecting his limits.
“You can touch. That’s all.”
Zevran smiled to himself. That left quite a big window of interpretation, after all.
Fenris felt weird, as if he was in a dream, as he watched, Zevran get a vial of oil from the stand next to the tub, and turned to him with a slight smile.
“Any scent you prefer?”
He nodded in the negative, not able to make his throat work enough to reply.
Zevran returned to him and pulled his hand up to his mouth, where he kissed the palm and then, his eyes never leaving Fenris, he sucked one finger into his mouth. He watched, like in a daze, the assassin’s full, pouty lips glide from the base of his middle finger to the tip, and then his tongue come out and flick against the pad of his digit; it felt like he was suckling him somewhere much more intimately, and his cock sprang to attention, twitching with want. Zevran’s glowing amber eyes were at half mast, his eyelashes shading the brilliant colour, while his mouth glided back down to the base of his finger.
Just when he was ready to plead for this torturous teasing to stop, Zevran moved his hand towards Hawke, and parting her buttocks with his hands, motioned for Fenris to touch the pink star of her forbidden opening.
Fenris tentatively obeyed, circling the opening with his saliva-slicked finger, before he pushed just the tip inside; Hawke tensed and moaned, and he pulled back, terrified he was hurting her. Zevran moved closer, wrapping one hand around his waist, and leaning in to suckle the tender skin at the nape of his neck, and then nuzzled under his delicate ear. Fenris shuddered and his hips rocked forward, bucking against air when the assassin’s tongue carefully traced the pointed tip. Trust another elf to know exactly what place to lick and exactly what pressure to apply to drive him mad, he thought to himself, before he felt his hand pulled forward again, and his fingers back on Hawke’s pert behind.
“Do not be afraid, amico,” Zevran crooned into his ear. “It hurts a little at first, but she will love it.”
He then swatted Hawke’s behind, making her yelp, and thrust her ass towards them. “Wont you, my lovely Hawke?”
“Yesss,” she hissed, moaned Fenris name and encouraged, Zevran’s hand guiding him, he slipped his finger into her incredibly hot opening again, this time pushing past the first knuckle, until his entire digit was embedded in her. She moaned and thrust backwards and Zevran whispered darkly against his ear.
“Add another one, my lovely warrior,” and he drizzled oil onto Fenris’ fingers. “Gently.”
She took the second one without difficulty, moaning and sighing. Both elves could see her pink, glistening womanhood leaking her excitement underneath the opening Fenris had claimed and Fenris pushed Zevran’s head towards her, watching in trance as the rogue snuck out his tongue to taste her.
Fenris bit down on his lip to stop himself from moaning like a bitch in heat at the sight; he was thrusting his fingers inside her tight, tight passage, the hot flesh griping him like a vice. Underneath, Zevran was thrusting his tongue into her syrupy depths, gathering up the juices that were escaping her in a stream. Hawke was panting, her hips moving backwards against them both, her pleading voce asking, demanding, beseeching for more.
He added another finger, and shrieked his name. Zevran pulled back to see, and he smiled approvingly to Fenris. Returning to run his tongue from her stretched opening, caressing Fenris’ fingers as well, to the top of her slit, he then focused on Fenris, and the raging erection that was leaking liberally. Fenris moaned as the elf talented mouth closed around him and, unable to resist, he thrust until he found himself swallowed down to the root.
“Maker,” he gasped.
The elf chuckled around his shaft, and Fenris nearly came at the spot at the vibrations that caressed his length like a multitude of fingers. But the caress was over before he had the chance to really appreciate it, and now Zevran was dripping oil over his palm and generously coating his staff with it.
Fenris’ breath caught, his muscles tensed as he watched Zevran grip his cock and guide it against Hawke’s puckered opening; the head rested against it, and the assassin put one hand on the small of the warrior’s back and coaxed him gently forward.
“Easy,” Zevran’s silky Antivan accent caressed both their heated nerves, calming them down. “It’s okay, Hawke. Just relax for him.”
Fenris at the scream that left her as soon as the head of his erection started slipping inside her dark, forbidden entrance.
“Does it hurt, love?” he gritted, his gravelly voice thick with desire, struggling to stay still, knowing that as much as he wanted to do this, as much as he wanted to just thrust inside her to the hilt, he would stop at the first sign of her showing discomfort. He might die of frustration, but he would.
Hawke just moaned his name and pushed backwards, making the head slip a bit further inside her. She was biting hard on her lip, to stop herself from screaming at the discomfort and the searing, agonising pleasure the painful entry was causing her. Zevran had knelt down beside her, running his talented hands all over her body, soothing her and enflaming her at the same time, stroking her hair, petting her heaving chest and her breast that were swaying gently with the force of her tremors.
“Relax for him, Hawke,” his voice crooned to her. “I promise you, it’s going to be so good.”
Eyes fogged with both pleasure and pain met his and he couldn’t resist. He bent his head to her and captured her lips, kissing her with abandon. Behind her, Fenris growled and push harder inside her, gaining a few more inches inside her. She screamed into Zevran’s mouth ; pain and pleasure, it seared her, held her immobile as he worked his cock inside her, inch by inch.
Fenris had stilled again at the sound of her muffled scream and Zevran tore his mouth away from Hawke’s to offer his encouragement; he noticed at first sight the warrior was at the end of his patience, losing the fight to control himself more and more with every ticking minute.
“How does she feel, my friend?” Zevran slid his hand down the trembling, sweat-slicked muscles of Hawke’s back. “She must be tight, and hot.” A growl, and Fenris throwing his head back, his neck muscles bulging with the tension answered him. “She can take you, Fenris, don’t be afraid. She will take you and scream with pleasure. Won’t you my Hawke?”
Zevran once again returned to Fenris and kissed his panting mouth, then turned to Hawke and held her flesh apart, whispering encouragement, dark, naughty words that made her need for the sexual pain flare higher, hotter. His voice was approving, tender.
“It’s okay, Hawke,” he soothed her as she bucked, her eyes tearing from the pain, though she didn’t want it to stop. She never wanted it to stop. “Don’t fight it, my beauty,” he urged. “Fenris’ cock is thick, my sweet, but not too thick. You can take it.” He pulled her flesh apart further, easing the shocking pain as Fenris continued to tunnel inside her.
A scream, a groan and a whispered, breathless bravo all echoed around the room as finally, with one long, steady stroke Fenris’ cock disappeared inside her.
“Hawke. Baby. Are you alright?” Fenris’ voice was strained, guttural as he held himself absolutely, completely still, although every cell in his body screamed at him to take her hard. Her flesh was pulsing around him, sending arrows of pleasure from the tips of his ears down to his toes. Still, he help himself immobile, giving her time to adjust.
She whimpered, caught between searing pain and agonizing pleasure. The sensation of being so wickedly dominated, so absolutely taken, the dark, forbidden erotism of the act, the stretching of her flesh, his fiery hot length embedded in her. It was more than she could take, more she had ever thought she could take, but she never wanted it to end.
“More. More!” she pleaded, whimpered, cried out for him, and pushed her ass backwards, rolled her hips, desperate for movement. Her breath caught as he drew back and then thrust back inside her, and his name again left her in a scream.
“Give her more, Fenris,” Zevran’s breathless voice whispered next to his ear, while his hand petted his back, his hips, his ass. “She wants it. Give her more.”
She chanted both their names as she felt each inch slip into her ass once more. Deliberately, slowly. Killing her with pleasure, with pain, with possession. The sensations mixed and blend into a feeling that was making her whole body tremble, blaze, threaten to shatter.
She screamed again. She couldn’t help it as he started slowly and carefully retracting and then forcing himself inside her in long, smooth strokes. The pleasure whipped through her, her juices running from her and soaking her down to her knees. He drew her back against his chest and the new position made her even tighter, even more responsive to the slow thrusts powering inside her.
Fenris threw his head back and groaned, then cursed in Arcanum before his hands gripped on her hips and he set up a steady rhythm, pulling nearly all the way out before he once again tunnelled inside her. She could feel her orgasm building in her very womb and she cried out, knowing that when it hit it would make her body fly into space, but frantic to get there, to fly off into that free fall of sensation.
“Zevran, help me,” she whispered desperately, the fingers of one hand going to her centre, circling her swollen clit as she undulated against Fenris.
The assassin slipped to his knees in front of her, spreading her legs further, his head lowering to her swollen clit as Fenris began to thrust in and out of her ass once again. Their half reclining position allowed the warrior to pull his cock free by several inches before powering it home again, rocking her body with the streaking pleasure as Zevran’s suckling mouth locked onto her clit.
It didn’t take long before the beginnings of the first explosive orgasm ripped through Hawke’s body. She tightened, crying out, fighting for balance when Fenris lifted his hands and gripped her neck with his teeth and as the first explosion tore through her.
It was just the first one of many to come.
Fenris stilled as he felt her contract, felt her whole body shatter, and moaned at the amazing, mind-shattering pressure. He gave her just enough time to get over the worst of her peak, and then started pumping inside her again, his breath sawing in his lungs. Maker, the need to take her hard and fast was gnawing at his very sanity, but he never wanted this to end. So, body corded and wound up like a coiled spring, his lips bloodied by his own teeth, he continued at the same measured, agonizing pace, savouring the tight clasp of her body, her moans and pleas.
Her head rolled back onto Fenris shoulder, and they shared a wet, fervent kiss, before the dual sensation of a mouth on her dripping centre and his fiery length ravaging her behind, threw her into another mind shattering orgasm. “Maker, Zevran, make him fuck me hard before I die!” she screamed as the overwhelming pleasure rose and crested again, and again, and once again, rolling now in continuous waves over her spasming body.
Just her plea was enough to make the tenuous grasp Fenris had on his control snap; he started shafting her with brutal force, taking her like a wild storm. The force of his thrusts pushed her into Zevran’s mouth and the blond assassin suckled her relentlessly and then ruthlessly shoved two fingers into her, making her keen. The both took her like this together, Fenris’ shaft bruising her ass, Zevran’s mouth and fingers tormenting her behind, his other hand pumping his own erection desperately. Their groans blended with her feminine cries, their bodies glistening with sweat and both of them focused on her and her pleasure until she was thrown into an orgasm so explosive, so brutal in its violence, that she lost what little was left of her breath, lost her control and the link to her sanity. She whipped between them and then surrendered, blanking out for an instance, before Fenris groaned and begun spurting his seed inside her, hurtling her over the edge again. Zevran pulled away from her and came to his knees, his mouth capturing hers as he too came against her stomach with a throaty moan.
They all tumbled back into the lukewarm water together, trying to recover from the unbearable satisfaction that was coursing through them all, until Fenris opened just one of his eyes and looked at the blond elf that was panting, head and shoulders resting against the opposite die of the huge tub.
“You put your fingers inside her,” his voice rang with a slight undertone of menace.
“You said I could touch her, si?” Zevran smirked. “You didn't say how. Or where. ”
Hawke drew the Fenris head down for a kiss. “Oh, Fenris,” she said, smiling. “Let him. He’s so good.”
“Yes, Fenris,” the assassin’s accented voice sent a shiver up Fenris’ spine. “Let me.”
Fenris shivered. He had the feeling he wasn’t talking about touching Hawke. Was he?

That night, Zevran shared their bed. They all slept together, one warm pile of tangled limbs and shared embraces, exhausted and sated.
Fenris was awaken at some point in the wee hours of the morning, to find Hawke on her knees between Zevran’s spread legs, sucking him with her talented mouth. The elf was writhing on the bed, his hands behind his head, his lithe body corded with tension and heated, whispered Antivan escaping him in small whimpers.
He locked eyes with Fenris and smiled, then raised his hands in the air. “I’m not touching her, my friend,” he snickered, and Fenris laughed against his will.
Hawke raised her eyes to her lover with a cheeky grin, and then slid her tongue sinfully along Zevran’s length. Her lover’s eyes darkened with lust, the sight of her pleasuring another man more erotic than he could ever had imagined.
In a flash, he was on his knees next to her, and dragged her up by her hips, sharing a heated kiss with her, just before he spread her legs with his hand and pushed her down on Zevran’s erection, impaling her down on the other man’s length.
He then stood on the side on his knees, stroking himself at the sight of Hawke riding Zevran to oblivion.
They slept some more after that, until he was once again awakened by the alien feeling of hands playing with his ass, and Hawke’s mouth on his erection. He tensed for just a minute, unsure of whether he wanted this to continue, but the irresistible Antivan in his ear and Hawke’s tender crooning relaxed him again in no time, until he found himself thrusting in her soft depths, and a hard, hot shaft slowly sliding in his ass. Zevran had taken his time to prepare him, first with his fingers, then -shockingly- with his tongue but still the pain was searing, the sensation alien and uncomfortable; the pleasure...the pleasure was blissful, as the elf found that perfect spot inside him and rocked against it. They all rocked languidly together in the heat of a late Antivan morning, Fenris moaning loudly enough for the whole household to hear him and Zevran roaring his pleasure to the ceiling.
They held on to each other tightly after their orgasms nearly blew the roof in their intensity, sweaty and covered in sticky fluids, but incredibly content.
As Zevran slumbered, spooned against Fenris’ back, Hawke nestled against his chest, he felt belonging like he hadn’t felt for years, and sent a little thank you to whatever god had allowed these two perfect lovers to come onto his life.
He felt blessed they had allowed him into their bed, and luxuriated into the familiarity and comfort he had been craving ever since he had left Ferelden and the side of his Warden.
Little did he know, the Warden was already on his way towards Antiva.
Another elf for Hawke to collect.
- 6
- 7
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Sizzle! Burn! Steam!