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That Damn Skirt!	By : Defiant-Anjeru Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 6419 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Mass Effect universe and in no way profit from this work of fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 1-That Damn Skirt!
- 1
Fenris couldn't believe this. His almighty leader, and his one-time lover, had bought herself a new set of rogue armor. Oh don't get him wrong, it wasn't that she had bought a new set of armor. It wasn't even how much the armor had cost. It wasn't even that she had bought it without even thinking about this. It was a simple enough reason – how short is that skirt? He growled in his head as he walked through the Market Place of Hightown with her. The skirt barely fell the bottom of her shapely and ever so tempting buttocks! There could not be a practical reason for a skirt that short!
His found himself growing hard beneath the linen of breeches and scowled.
Hawke stopped at a merchant stand and leaned over, just slightly, but he caught sight of the very bottom of her arse. He swallowed and then glared at Anders when he caught the damned abomination staring. When he looked over to their other companion, that annoying pirate Isabella, he glared even harder – she was staring and licking her lips. When Isabella realized the elf was staring at her, she grinned and shrugged her shoulders as if she were saying she was helpless to resist. Fenris inwardly groaned; he was too, so helpless to resist, but they were around so many people in a very public place.
Fenris stalked over to the shadows and leaned against the stone column, very inconspicuously readjusting his hard on. Damn that woman sometimes! He growled to himself, leaning back on the column with his arms folded over his chest. His eyes watched her every movement, the way she fingered a necklace, or a fine dagger; the way the sunlight made her glossy, shoulder length, raven curls shine; or the way her golden eyes twinkled with mischief.
He found that his companions had wandered off as well, looking at merchant booths on their own; he couldn't help but feel slightly relieved. At least they would stop staring now.
"Fenris!" Her very voice saying his name made him hard. For crying out loud, how long would he be able to keep this up? They'd slept together once, he admitted it had been a mistake (despite how well they got along), and it hadn't happened since. She flounced over to him with a giggle and, as she bounced, so did the skirt; his groin tightened even more until he was so hard he ached because he could of sworn he saw a flash of her smalls.
Maker. If he could see it, how many others could? The thought made him scowl darkly and by the time she came to stand before him with an innocent smile, he was glaring at her. He had no right to be jealous; wait. He was jealous?
"Fenris, look at this! I just bought it, isn't it a beautiful blade?" She exclaimed as her small gloved hands, save her non gloved fingertips, held out a dagger toward him. Her eyes twinkled with genuine excitement over such a small thing; he couldn't help but smile as he took the dagger from her to examine it with a grunt.
"It is a fine blade," he commented as he handed it back to her.
She stuck out her lip in a pout at she raised the edge of her skirt to slide the dagger into a dagger sheath she had strapped to her upper thigh; how had he not noticed that? Again he caught a flash of her unders and groaned. At the sound, she dropped the skirt and glanced up at him curiously. Her head cocked cutely to the side and she pressed her hand to his forehead. Then she frowned and dropped her hand. "You okay, Fenris? Groaning indicates pain but you aren't feverish," she said as she turned away. His eyes went straight to her arse.
"I'm fine," he said though his voice cracked. He cleared his throat as he began to follow her through the Market Place again.
The day continued on like this and by the end of it, he could have sworn he would have a permanent erection. She had danced in their battles, flashing thighs and smalls, leaned over merchant stands to ogle some trinket or another (he couldn't focus on that); more than once she had snapped at him for faltering in battle because he couldn't concentrate. He and Hawke were now walking into The Hanged Man and he was too busy staring at her arse that when she stopped, he didn't notice and ran right into her.
"Damnit Fenris! What is with you today?" She snapped out irritably as she turned to face him. Her hands found a home on those perfectly shaped hips as she glared at him, her bottom lip thrust out at him in a way that tempted him to lean down and catch it between his teeth, tug on it, before he would thrust his tongue into her mouth and devour her. Shit! Don't go there, he thought, but it was hard not to when she was reprimanding him. Was she really so clueless as to what that damned skirt was doing; not only to him but to everyone around her?
He flushed red, he actually flushed red. Growling, not caring who was staring, he grabbed Hawke by her arm and dragged her out of the tavern and around into the alley. He was surprised that she offered no resistance, not even when he pushed her roughly against the wall and shoved his hands into her hair. He was panting, his eyes narrowed with hunger and when he looked into the golden eyes, he saw that hunger reflected. He smashed his mouth down on hers and kissed her until she turned into a mushy puddle of desire in his arms.
His hands slid from her hair and he ripped his gauntlets off. They then grabbed her hips in a tight grip as he kissed her until they couldn't breathe. He broke away from the kiss to work his lips down her jaw, then her neck, before he sucked the skin into his mouth, wanting to mark her. One hand slid beneath that damn skirt and pressed itself against her moist smalls. She was already so wet! He growled and released her neck, smirking at the mark appearing there, before he was kissing her again, her moans drowned by his mouth. Their tongues dueled together as his hands disappeared from her to work open the front of his breeches, his impossibly rigid length springing free.
He hooked his hands beneath her thighs and hoisted them onto his hips, a hand sliding down to rip her smalls completely free of her. She gasped, but then moaned into his mouth, her hands clawing tightly in his hair. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he held her there, allowing him to thrust into her with a strangled moan – from the both of them. It was frenzied, lustful love-making, mouths eating at each other, uninhibited moans spilling into the alley around them as they came together hard like two magnets that had no choice but to connect.
"Maker Hawke, you feel so good," he moaned into her mouth. She nipped his lip in return and then her hot channel was clenching around him like vice, making it nearly impossible to keep thrusting into her. How did she manage to feel so good? He groaned the thought to himself as he thrust, her walls like hot silk that slid over him teasingly each time he pulled from her, only to come back, helpless to resist her. One hand curled down her thigh to her rear where he grabbed one supple buttock, squeezing it with an appreciative sound. Breaking the kiss, he slowed his hips from their frantic rhythm and began a slow, only languid pace, not wanting the moment to end so soon; this hadn't been planned but now that it was happening, he found he wanted to grasp at it desperately like a lifeline.
"Fenris?" Her voice was husky with sex but he could hear the question in her tone. She kept her hands tight in his hair, her golden eyes – as valuable as any sovereign – looking into his own with slight uncertainty.
"Shh," he whispered against her lips, kissing her again. They hadn't had sex since their one night stand, and it wasn't his intention for this to go down, but now that he was pressing himself inside of her, he never wanted to stop. The pace continued on slow, lazy, driving her crazy; she tried tightening her legs around his hips to pull him to her harder and faster. He chuckled and shook his head. "Not until I make you come," he moaned as he nipped her lip. And come she did moments later, his thrusts pushing her over the edge into pleasure-filled oblivion.
True to his word, her climax led way to faster and harder pistons of his hips, pushing her hard into the wall of the alley; not that she complained, in fact, she moaned her appreciation quite loudly. It became a desperate thing again, his growls against her lips; how many waking hours had he tormented himself with thoughts of her? Never mind that, how many nights of torturous dreams did he relive their passion? The thought was too much and when he pressed inside of her with a few last frantic thrusts, his own coil snapped and he came hard, filling her with his essence. He kissed her hard, and they both moaned, holding to each other tightly.
They came down from their high together but she kept her legs around his hips, their hands cupping each others faces so that their kisses could become gentle, and searching.
Panting, he dropped her legs and allowed her to readjust herself as she tried to catch her breath. A clearing of a throat caused them both to blush and Fenris quickly stuffed himself back inside of his breeches before he turned to find Isabella watching them.
"Great, just great," he growled out. He turned his head briefly to glance at Hawke who appeared embarrassed and was blushing as red as berries; with a sigh he turned away from her – very reluctantly. He stalked by the pirate; if Isabella's teasing had been bad before, it was going to be hell now, that thought vaguely occurring to him with a inward, strangled groan.
Hawke giggled as Fenris disappeared around the corner, before walking up to Isabella to plant a kiss on the pirate's cheek. "Thanks Isabella, it worked like a charm."
- 1
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That Damn Skirt!