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Do you Kiss your Mother with that Mouth?	By : Hatsepsut Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 7083 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: These characters, the universe, the whole awesomeness that is Dragon Age belongs to Bioware. I make no money out of this. Just playing around...

Chapter List
- 1-Do you Kiss your Mother with that Mouth?
- 1
Three years. Three years she had been waiting for him to resolve his issues and come back to her. Three years of lonely nights, sexual frustration, and heartache. Three years of sidelong, longing glances, stolen touches, lonely tears. One hundred and fifty-six weeks. More than one thousand days.

But now he was here. Danarius was dead, he had apologised and asked for a second chance by her side; she had been more than delighted to give it. That first night together again had been one of the most passionate, frightening, emotional experiences of her life. They had both been left with bruises, bloody scratches, bite marks and sore muscles after a night of trying to sate three years of desire. Afterwards, she had lain in his arms, clutching him desperately, terrified for the longest time he would leave her again, until Fenris had realised how tense she had been and had gently but relentlessly probed for the reason; once she had confided it, she had been so relieved by his promise never to let her go that she had spent the rest of the night crying.

She couldn’t be sure, but she had thought he might have been close to tears himself at some point.

Weeks had gone by since then, every day making the bond between them stronger, more resilient. There were still issues to resolve; his nightmares, her fears that he would leave her, his possessiveness, her stubbornness.

But nothing irked her more than that abominable control of his.

Even in the most intense moments, even when all other control had been lost and he was like a wild beast in her arms, taking her like a wild storm, he was utterly and completely silent.

She had done her best, had dedicated herself to driving him crazy, but to no avail. All she ever got was a strangled throaty moan, or a barely whispered sigh of her name. Most of the times, he would bite his lip hard enough to draw blood, and resist making a single sound, even when his whole body was wildly trembling, even when his neck corded with the tension. As for the whispered tender words that most couples enjoyed as foreplay, his eyes gazing at her with their unusual, pining intensity was all she had gotten so far, telling her what his mouth refused to utter. Because just as in battle, he never said a word.

Not. A. Single. Word.

Which was criminal, really, with that voice of his.

Hawke had no qualms admitting it; his voice was the first thing that had made her fall for him. Before those piercing green eyes had captivated her, before that oh, so rare and precious smirk on his full lips had made her heart go a-flutter, it was his voice that had made her shiver. Rich, deep, a velvety baritone with a hidden hoarseness to it, chocolate on gravel, honey on a dagger’s edge.

His voice was to die for.

His voice could make her instantly hot, she could spend all day and all night listening to him recite the alphabet. She was certain that if he ever talked dirty to her in that voice, she would die from the rarest condition of all: unending orgasm.

When one night she had confronted him about it, he had been even more silent, until he had admitted that yes, he was making a conscious effort to control himself. It wasn’t really his fault, silence had been beaten into him with a thousand vicious lessons. He had not been supposed to speak, he was supposed to be silent and do the magisters’ bidding; which of course now infuriated him, because he had never stopped to think that one of his old slave habits was affecting his relationship with her before she had brought it to his attention.

That night he had left for his mansion, because as he had said, he had needed to think.
And she had spend the night totally miserable, and terrified he wouldn’t come back.

By the time morning came, she had reached a decision: she would break him of his silent habit, whether he liked it or not. No lover of hers would treat her like a feared magister; she deserved the whispered words, she deserved to have her man call out her name while she screamed his. Fenris most of all deserved to know he could lose control with her, that in her arms he was safe, safe to let go, safe to give all of himself as she gave hers. She would even take the whole campaign a step further.

She would teach him how to speak dirty to her.

A few days later and after the whole incident had been put behind them with a promise from him to try and be less guarded, they were at the Hanged Man, for a round of drinking and playing cards with their friends.

Hawke was sitting right next to Fenris, watching his game with Varric and Isabela with faked interest. Really, she couldn’t get it. For her, playing cards was supposed to be fun. These people had elevated it into an all out war. They were all silent, focused, intense. No jabs from Varric, no lewd comments from Isabela, and okay, Fenris was always silent anyway.

She was bored.

Sebastian and Anders were engaged into a heated debate, something that had to do with theology, or philosophy, or something else equally boring, ending in –y. Merrill was busy studying the cobwebs on the ceiling; apparently there was something amazingly fascinating about them.

And just then, an idea came to her, one of her impish, naughty ideas, that this would be the perfect occasion to put her plan in motion.

She moved a little closer to him, and slipped a hand into his hair, at the same time leaning her head onto his shoulder. He spared a look to her, and a slight tender smile, before focusing back on his cheating opponents.

“Awww...” Isabela cooed, “that’s so sweet! Fenris can actually smile. Awww... ”

Varric raised an eyebrow but refused to let his attention stray from his hand.

“Broody no longer,” he commented. “I here-by change his name to Cuddles.”

Fenris just growled, and raised his mug to his mouth.

Hawke found the perfect opportunity to lean in and whisper in his ear. “I love that growl of yours, tiger. Especially when you’re balls deep inside me.”

Fenris’ eyes bulged and he spit out the sip of ale he had been in the process of swallowing. He then turned to Hawke and shot her an incredulous look, one eyebrow rising up in a silent question.

“Pay attention to your game, love,” she playfully replied, a hidden challenge in her eyes. “Isabela has already cheated twice.”

“I don’t know what you said to him, Hawke,” Varric laughed, “but keep doing it. We’ll split the profits.”

Fenris squared his shoulders, shot her an irritated, chastising look and then concentrated on his game, deciding to ignore her.

She wasn’t going to be so easily cowed, though. Once she had made up her mind, she was like a mabari bitch with a bone, stubborn and relentless. Oh, he was going down tonight.

She exchanged a knowing smirk with Isabela, and then she leaned in and before he had a change to push her away, or draw further away from her, she breathed a deep moan in his ear and once again made his eyes bulge when she whispered how much she enjoyed the taste of his cock.

Fenris blushed this time, but resisted giving any other sign of being affected by her words and stubbornly kept his eyes focused on his hand, even though Isabela snickered and Varric commented on the colour of his ears.

This was shaping up into a battle of wills.

She gave him a little time to relax, to lower his guard and once she saw his shoulders lose the tension her previous words had inspired she brazenly slipped her hand under the table and cupped him over the leather of his breeches.

When he shot her a scolding look she just smiled innocently, squeezed his hardening shaft and breathed into his ear, “You know what I would love right now, Fenris? Your big, fat cock,” she gave said cock another squeeze, “fucking me up the ass.”

A gasp escaped him, and his hand tightened around the mug of ale he had been holding.

“Why are you doing this, Hawke?” he growled into her ear. “Are you trying to embarrass me?”

She smiled into his darkened eyes, and leaned in to run her tongue over the rim of his elegant, pointed ear. “Since when is my desire for you embarrassing, love?” she countered, delighted at the little shiver that run through his frame and the jolt his cock gave under her hand. “I am merely stating a fact. I love your cock, I want it buried deep in me, up my cunt, up my ass. Does that embarrass you?”

“Stop that, woman!” he muttered darkly, grabbing her wrist and forcefully removing it from under the table. “Hawke. I am warning you.”

She chuckled. “Shame,” she whispered again in his ear. “I was just about to slip under there and suck you off. Now you’ll get no honey, honey!”

“I win.” Varric declared, tossing his cards down. He raised his eyes to see Fenris and Hawke looking into each other’s eyes, Fenris with an aggravated, indignant look, Hawke smiling impishly. “I said,” he raised his voice, a corner of his mouth going up in amusement, “I win.”

“We heard you,” Fenris growled and let go of Hawke’s wrist. “Another round. I was...distracted.” He shot a menacing look to his lover. “It won’t happen again.”

“What happened?” Merrill piped in, her sweet, lilted voice puzzled. “Did I miss something dirty again?”

Isabel pinched her cheek playfully. “Don’t worry kitten,” she chuckled. “I’ll tell you all about it later.”

The second round of Wicked Grace went just as the first one. Wicked Grace, indeed. Isabela had long ago moved as close to Hawke as she could and even her eyes had popped out of her head with some of the things she had caught Hawke whispering into Fenris’ ear. Sebastian and Anders had long ago stopped pretending to be deep in conversation too, and every time Hawke leaned into her elf’s shoulder to whisper in his pointed ear, they watched with riveted eyes as the elf swallowed hard, his eyes widened and his colour deepened. Then they snickered into their cups and wait...where those veiled looks they shot each other? What was going on here?

Varric was smiling like the cat that had eaten the canary, and had brazenly put a roll of parchment on the side of the table. Every time Hawke said something to Fenris, he would observe them both like a mad scientist observing his test subjects and then scribble furiously, which made Fenris absolutely, howling mad.

Hawke knew, from the seething looks he had been sending her, that she had taken the game too far to stop. But she also knew that her naughty words were beginning to have another effect on him. His game had gotten more and more unfocused, his whole body was corded with tension and if she dared slip her hand under the table again, she was sure she would find him hard enough to drill a hole through the leather of his breeches.

He had this wild, don’t-do-this-to-me look on his face every time she leaned towards him, but she noticed with glee that he didn’t draw away any more, as if he was starting to anticipate her little breathy moans and her whispered taunts. She smiled to herself. She had had to get really creative with her dirty talking. Some of the things she’d said had made even her blush.

She suddenly had another impish thought and before the rational part of her brain could step in and stop her, she cheekily followed it; she sat up on his lap and wrapped her hand around his shoulders, sitting sideways on him. Now that straining cock was between her thighs and she thought she heard a small, chocked moan reverberate in his chest. He resisted looking at her, resisted saying a single word, but she could now feel his whole body shake with the effort of holding back.

Once again, he pretended to be focused on the game, but the hand clasped around his mug had a white-knuckled grip on it. Her new position made so much easier for her to whisper to him and she felt him tense as her breath caressed the side of his neck.

“Fenris, honey, when is this game going to end?” she complained into his ear. “My cunt is drenched. I need you cock.”

He swallowed once, twice, his throat working convulsively, but didn’t utter a single word. The hand he had wrapped around her, holding his cards, tightened a bit, but he didn’t even look at her. A shiver run through his lanky frame, and he shot a blistering look to Varric that was happily scribbling away again. Merrill tittered on his other side, and Isabela muttered “I can help you with that if he doesn’t want to play, Hawke.”

Fenris didn’t know who to glower at anymore.

She leaned in once more. “Shall I take her up on her offer, Fenris? You can watch her eat my cunt. She’s very good with her tongue, and those fingers of hers are magic. You could even join in and fuck us both if you want to. Or shall I ask Anders and Sebastian? You could watch them sandwich me....hmmm, imagine that, love. One cock in my cunt and another in my ass, pounding me at the same time. Would you like to see that?”

Okay, so she might have said that last one a bit too loudly. Sebastian sputtered and coughed as his ale went flying everywhere and Anders had to slap his back to help him catch his breath, his whole face red, but a naughty smile escaping him.

“Casualties, Hawke!” Varric chided her, wiping imaginary sweat of his forehead. “Watch the civilians!”

“Oh, let her...” Anders piped in. “This is the best fun I’ve had in years.” He shot a look under the table, and then moved his chair a bit back, with a theatrical look of horror on his face. “I would recommend stepping back though, people. When that...thing goes off, you don’t want to be caught in the trajectory of the missiles.”

Fenris seemed like he was going to reply to the mage, but Hawke gave him no chance.
“When that thing goes off, it will be down my throat,” she whispered in his ear. “I will drink down every drop of your seed, because...,” a lick around his ear, “it tastes..” a nip on the elegant tip, “ so,...” a breathy moan, “... sooo good....”

Fenris snapped.

He got up amid laughter and hoots and dragged her up with him, her wrist in a death grip. He looked around frantically, his eyes hazed and darkened to nearly all black, and started dragging her forcefully to the door, walking awkwardly because of his very visible erection.

“Second room to the left is empty,” Varric helpfully offered.

If somebody later asked her how she had gotten to that room, how she had gotten naked, or what had happened until she found herself bend over the table, she would have to say she didn't remember.

All she could remember was his speed as he positioned her, his frantic haste, his ragged, exquisite moan when he forcefully bend her over that table and spread her thighs to slip inside her with a powerful, punishing thrust. All she could remember was the way his fingers had tightened on her hips, how he had growled and moaned and bit out her name as he had started pounding her like this was the last thing he would be permitted to do before drawing his last breath.

He was beyond being silent.

A heated stream of what appeared to be curses in Arcanum was continuously pouring out of his mouth in that delicious, velvety voice of his, firing her up, making her whole body shiver. She was bruising from the rough edge of the table rubbing into her soft belly every time he slammed into her, but she didn't care; all she cared about was the male behind her, out of control like a summer thunderstorm, primal and primitive in his desire, driven only by animal instinct and hot, blinding desire.

She gave herself to him, accepted him in a level deeper than ever before, submitting totally to his violent onslaught, her soft womanly core enveloping his shaft like a glove, moulding to his shape and size. He slipped his hands to her front and pulled her abruptly up, clutching at her breasts with both hands; the position made his thrusts less deep, but it allowed him to fondle and pet her pert breasts, and latch on to the tender spot on the juncture of her neck and shoulder that he loved so much.

Hawke moaned and leaned her head back, supporting herself on his shoulder and whimpered his name as one hand slipped down to her centre to find her clit and mercilessly thrum it like a finely-tuned lute. His muscular arms were wrapped around her, one hand on her breast, the other on her clit, his shaft deep inside her and his mouth nibbling on her throat; Maker, this was bliss. This was magic. She felt surrounded by him, consumed, a part of him. If only...

“Talk to me,” she pleaded with a breathless little gasp. “Fenris, talk to me. Let me hear that voice of yours. Please...” she begged and he groaned, and his mouth latched onto her ear, his tongue slipped inside the pretty shell and he whispered her name.
Her knees went weak, and her sheath clenched, the beginning of an orgasm that was going to shatter her bones into splinters almost upon her.

“Again,” she begged, breathlessly, without shame. “You can make me come just by speaking to me. Say my name again.”

“I’ll do more than that, you little minx,” he growled, his deep voice hoarser and more gravely than she had ever heard it. “You drove me mad in there.”

“Yesss...” she hissed. “Tell me. Talk to me. Maker, Fenris!”

“Later,” he groaned and turned her around, pushed her on the table on her back and grasping her legs and pushing them up to his shoulders he pounded inside her once more. “I swear I will get even with you for what you did to me tonight,” he threatened, holding himself still for a few seconds before he let a loud grunt of pleasure at the even deeper, more perfect fit, and started slamming inside her again, head thrown back and eyes closing in total bliss.

Hawke surrendered, bringing her fingers to her mouth and biting down on her knuckles to drown her desperate mewling sounds as he moaned her name like a chant, the flimsy table underneath her screeching against the floor with the force of his brutal thrusts. She vaguely thought that she would be lucky if the table didn't collapse underneath her and then her climax came upon her like a dark, frighteningly intense wave that curled not only her toes but even her hair, she was certain of it. It made her keen his name, her breath sawing in her lungs and her body convulsing in a fit of tremors that threatened to dislocate her joints. Her arms flayed, desperate for something to hold on to, something to ground her so she wouldn’t physically fly off onto space and he was there, grasping her, his fingers interlacing with hers as he also gave in and joined her, making the most adorably out of control sounds she could ever imagine in his deep, throaty voice.

She chuckled as she came down from her high, little shivers of pleasure igniting inside her still and stealing her breath as his cock continued to twitch and spurt inside her, filling her to the brim with his seed. He had fallen on top of her, and she could feel the flimsy table underneath them groan with their combined weight as he struggled to stop his muscles from shaking and his breath from sawing. Her arms wrapped around his slim, corded torso and she crooned tender, loving nothings into his pointed ear, each love word welcomed by him with a contented sigh.

Suddenly the table gave another loud screech and it was only thanks to Fenris’ lightning reflexes that they avoided collapsing with it to the floor, amid a sea of splinters and split wood.

“Fuck,” Fenris muttered, his trembling legs not able to hold his own body up, much less Hawke’s, and they collapsed together on the bed.

“Again? Oh, be my guest,” she cheekily replied.

Two days later they were standing respectfully away while Sebastian was having a heated discussion with the Grand Cleric in the Chantry. It was hot and sweltering in the massive temple, and the smell of incense was making the air even more difficult to breathe.

Hawke was bored, and no good thing ever came out of Hawke being bored.

Fenris’ mind had been lost in a fog of happiness for the last two days. He felt elated, as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. To be able to break out of one of his old habits that had defined his existence as a slave had been a huge accomplishment, one he had been sure he would never achieve.

His brow creased as he remembered how many times he had been punished for not being quiet. He had been beaten, brutally punished for even an escaped sigh. Considering the services his former master had had him perform...no, he would not go there. Hawke had helped him overcome all that and for that he was more than grateful. He had found himself a part of a loving, trusting relationship, mate to a woman that adored him and respected him, and most times had to put up with his quirks and unresolved issues. But she refused to walk on eggshells around him, surrounding him with acceptance and care and steam rolling over his overbearing sensitivities, often with no tact at all. Who cared? The bottom line was she loved him and if there was something troubling him and coming between them she ruthlessly dealt with it.

Like she had two days ago, teaching him it was okay to be vocal, to let himself go.

Sex had been even more awesome since that night, as Fenris had for the first time discovered the exhilarating freedom of being completely unreserved and uncontrolled. What if their companion had ruthlessly teased and riled him afterwards? He didn't care, and that was another victory of its own.

He had, however, promised her retribution, and although he had enjoyed the results of her sauciness immensely, he was one to always keep his promises.

He looked over at Hawke, that was visibly twitching and fidgeting, eager to get out of here and a devious thought started blinking in his head.

Hawke had wanted him to speak dirty to her? By the Maker, he would. Right here, right now. He would make her squirm like he had that night under her relentless teasing.

He casually approached her and shot a look to Sebastian and Elthina, still discussing a few feet away. Hawke was leaning against the railing, a bored look on her face, which was replaced by a sweet smile as soon he was near her. He settled his lanky length next to her, and casually tilted his head towards her.

“You promised to suck my cock, minx,” he whispered in his gravely, velvety voice and it was Hawke’s turn to gasp and her eyes to widen.

She quickly regained her composure and elbowed him in the ribs. “Not here, Fenris!” she hissed and he just gave her a naughty half smile.

“I’m not doing anything, Hawke,” he reasoned with her, keeping his voice low. He inched even closer, and she eyed him suspiciously, trying to not let show how his closeness and throaty voice affected her. Truth be told, though, she was beginning to feel herself get warm, just by him being so near.

“Besides,” he went on, leaning his face to inhale her scent, “you said you like my voice. You said I could make you come just by talking to you. I am curious, minx. Can I?”

“Fenris!” she admonished him. “We’re in the Chantry!”

“So? I am just talking,” he chuckled. “Not even touching you, my Hawke.”

“You don’t have to,” she admitted with a little shiver. “That voice of yours should be outlawed.”

He chuckled again, and this time the sound carried, making Sebastian take a surprised glance in their direction before his attention was again caught in his discussion with the Grand Cleric.

Fenris waited until the tall archer was once more enthralled in his discussion before he whispered in her ear again.

“Do you know what I will do to you once we are back at our bed, Hawke?” he asked, his voice a husky, smooth murmur. She raised huge eyes to his and drew in a shaky, shuddering breath. The words ‘our bed’ were even more potent than his voice, even more tantalising than the naughtiness of the whole situation. She felt her heart constrict and then expand in her chest and offered him a sweet, loving smile.
He had won. She was willing to go along for the ride. If he fancied her on all fours, being taken in front of the statue of Adraste with Elthina giving pointers, she was game.

“Tell me,” she bit her lip to stop herself from moaning.

He tilted his head towards her, his mouth hovering just over the sweet shell of her ear. To anyone watching it would just seem as he was making a casual observation to her; there was no bodily contact between them, not a single inch of him was touching her.
But his voice was like a thousand small fingers, each thrumming her nerve endings.

“I would tie you up and feast upon you until you came, my Hawke,” he breathed. “I would eat that sweet cunt of yours until you brought the guard over with your screams. Do you know how good you taste? How I love your scent when you are aroused?”

She moaned. She couldn’t help it. His voice was sinful, gliding over her like warm velvet. She felt her mouth water as if she was tasting the richest, most wickedly rich desert.

Chocolate. Honey. Melted caramel.

His voice was tastier than all that combined.

Sebastian turned back again, and shot them an incredulous look. Elthina raised an eyebrow. Apparently her little moan had carried, and Hawke faked a little cough and fanned herself to show it was the heat that was affecting her.

“Maker, it is stuffy in here,” she moaned again, hoping the pair would think it was what had caused that little moan that had escaped her. Elthina turned back to Sebastian, but the tall archer thinned his lips, apparently not convinced. He shot a chastising look to Fenris, who raised a foot to look at his sole, apparently finding great interest in brushing of some inconspicuous piece of dirt.

Once the Prince’s back was turned again, Fenris smirked and slipped his hand to the small of her back, resting it so that his fingers brushed the top of her luscious, pert ass. She squirmed and arched into his touch, looking around her to make sure that nobody was watching.

“If I want to slip my hand under your robes and stick my fingers up your ass, I will do so, Hawke,” he whispered, a hidden edge in his tone. “You are mine, you will do as I ask. Understood?”

“Yes,” she breathed, totally captivated and getting hotter every minute with this little show of dominance. Maker, her smalls were getting drenched.

“If I ask you to get on your knees and suck me off in front of Sebastian and Elthina, you will do so.”

“I will.” Her breaths were coming in short, excited gasps. Her whole body was beginning to quake. “Whatever. You. Want.”

“If I want to bend you over one of the pews and fuck you senseless, you will not protest. Am I clear? You are mine, you will do as I ask.”

She brought her gloved hand to her mouth and clamped down on her fingers to stop the moan that was building in her throat. How could he be so calm, so utterly collected? Her whole body was on fire, tormented with the sensuous images his words were provoking.

“Imagine it, Hawke,” he whispered, his grip on the railing turning white with the effort he was making to keep his voice calm, and his body under control. His breath was beginning to quicken and he swallowed to try and control it.

The only bad thing about her teaching him to lose control, was that now it was more difficult to retain it.

“Picture it. Imagine it” he breathed in her ear, eliciting a shudder. “We are in our bed, I have you tied and on your knees.”

She closed her eyes.

“My cock is sliding inside you, balls deep,” he moaned in her ear. “You feel so good, so hot, so incredibly tight.”

“Fenris,” a small breath escaped her, and her face scrunched up at the delicious warmth spreading in concentric circles from her clit to her whole body. “Please, stop. I will embarrass myself.”

“I am pounding you, harder and faster and then harder still,” he went on, so aroused that he had to turn his body sideways to keep the massive bulge straining in his leather breeches hidden. “Imagine it, Hawke. Picture my cock inside you. How does it feel?”
She opened her eyes to gaze into his, both breathing a faster now, both with lust-dilated pupils and flushed faces.

“Tell me, “ he urged her and she licked her lips, before replying with choked syllables.

“Big. Hot. Stretching. So, so good.”

He leaned in, blew a breath of warm air on her neck and then run his tongue over the rim of her ear.

“Come for me.”

And she did.

Sebastian returned to the Grand cleric and started apologising again, but the Grand Cleric’s eyes were twinkling and she had a smile on her face. He had nearly fainted with shock when they had heard Hawke let out a prolonged, tortured moan, and Fenris had grasped her by the arm and dragged her outside, mumbling that she wasn’t feeling very well. But he hadn’t been fooled, and neither had Elthina.

Those two deserved to be whipped.

He realised he was cursing at them under his breath and blushed even more.

“Come now, Sebastian,” Elthina said, “they are in love. The Maker understands.”

“Forgive me for bringing them here, your Grace,” Sebastian muttered once more. “They have been like this for weeks now, like... rabbits.”

Elthina looked over at the door where the two lovers had disappeared from, giggling and clutching at each other.
“I would have thought you of all people to be more understanding, Sebastian. After all, you were no stranger to such....shenanigans, once.”

The tall ex-prince looked at her and then at the door too.

“Why do you think I am so annoyed?” he said, and blushing, he bowed and left. “I have to go pray. Or something.”
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Do you Kiss your Mother with that Mouth?