Archive of Our Own

The first time Fenris caught her in bed with Anders, it was horribly embarrassing for both of them. There was certainly nothing dignified about it, that was for sure - her on her back with her legs flung over Anders' shoulders and folded practically in half as the mage thrust into her. She'd happened to tip her head back, over the edge of the bed. It had taken her a few seconds to register that the upside-down shape in the doorway was actually Fenris, his expression one torn between embarrassment and fury, and a few further seconds for her to realise just why Fenris might have that expression.

"Oh!" she'd yelped, and instinctively tensed up. Anders had groaned and thrust into her one last time before spilling himself, and Fenris' expression had gone suspiciously blank.

"Excuse me," he'd said, turning on his heel and removing himself swiftly from the room.

Hawke had put her hands over her face and moaned in dismay before shoving Anders off her and to one side - the mage looking as smug as a cat that got the cream - and hurrying to make herself decent enough to chase after Fenris - to find out what he wanted, to apologise, she wasn't entirely sure.

At the time, she'd mused that she should really invest in a lock for the bedroom door if she was going to let her friends in at all hours without question, just to avoid future embarrassing moments.

Of course, the second time, it hadn't even been in the bedroom so it was slightly more excusable that Fenris found her bent over the desk in the library, skirt flipped up and smalls only pulled down just far enough, with Anders taking her from behind and leaving her barely coherent with some strictly unsanctioned uses for magic.

That time, Fenris hadn't even excused himself, or done anything but purse his lips and stalk back out, slamming the door pointedly behind him. She'd been more interested in carrying on with Anders than finding out what Fenris had wanted that time, and some ten or fifteen minutes later when they'd actually finished and she was respectable enough not to traumatise Orana - or cause Sandal to ask awkward questions which would only wind poor Bodahn up - she'd opened the door to find Fenris literally just on the other side of it.

She'd not been able to look him in the eye through the entire conversation, and hadn't really heard half of what he'd said, her mind full of thoughts like he must have heard every sound! and he must think I'm absolutely incorrigible - catching me in the library!

Hawke only started to suspect foul play after the third time, after Anders had swept in like a hurricane and effectively pounced on her, having her undressed and on all fours on the bed almost before she'd even registered it was him, and had thrust into her with uncharacteristic urgency. The only reason she found this suspicious at all was because she'd lifted her head off the pillow during this just in time to hear Bodahn greet someone and advise them that she was in her room. Only her friends would get that kind of greeting, and that meant that she was likely to have company in the next minute or two.

That wasn't a lot of time to get away from Anders, off all fours and into some clothes.

"Anders," she breathed urgently, twisting around and managing to get one hand on his chest, pushing weakly. "We have to stop."

"They'll knock," Anders replied, gripping her by the hips and pulling her back against him. She forgot her argument as a spike of pleasure shot through her at the motion, dropping her hand back to the sheets and twisting them around her fingers. She tried to object further, but it came out as little more than a gasp.

The only one of her friends likely to consider knocking was Aveline - so it wasn't much of a surprise when Fenris once again pushed the door open and was confronted with the sight of Hawke and Anders in the middle of sex.

Hawke tried to make a joke out of it to cover her mortification at getting caught not once, but three times by the same friend. "This is - ah! - getting to be a habit, don't you think?"

Fenris whirled around and slammed the door behind him, cheeks flaming. Hawke shoved her face into the pillow and considered killing first herself, so she couldn't make any more stupid comments, and then Anders, for putting her in this position in the first place.

Anders slid a hand down between her legs and teased a spark of lightning across her and she forgot all her complaints, squealing without a care for who heard it as she came, clenching tight around Anders, who followed her with a strangled groan, the fingers of the hand still on her hip digging in hard enough to bruise - no doubt he'd fix it later.

Hawke slumped to the bed and Anders followed her down, draping himself over her back without putting too much of his weight on her, and nibbled at her ear. She flailed weakly at him.

"Stop it! I need to get up, get off me," she hissed at him, "and help me find my clothes!"

Anders rolled off her with a smug look. "Your smalls are by the fire, your shirt is caught on the lute, and I think your skirt is near the table, if the fact that your journal's on the floor is indicative."

Not for the first time that day, Hawke considered smacking him as she hopped around the room awkwardly, trying to make herself decent without making a mess - she really needed to start keeping a towel in the bedroom for just such an occasion.

Anders still managed to get himself dressed before she did despite having more clothing, and she scowled at him as she yanked her shirt on. "I hate you, you realise."

Anders just smiled at her infuriatingly. "You might want to do something with your hair before you go out there, love," he said cheerfully, reaching over to brush a few of the blood-red strands out of her eyes. Hawke made a sound that was halfway between a moan and a frustrated shriek and began looking through the scattered items from the table for her hairbrush as Anders sauntered out of the room without a care in the world.

Hawke looked utterly dishevelled and was barefoot by the time she actually left the room - her best attempts could not hide the fact that she had been quite thoroughly screwed just minutes before. Fenris was standing in the entry hall, staring pointedly ahead, expression fixed at neutral.

"Fenris," she said, taking the stairs two at a time. "Sorry about that. What can I do for you?"

Fenris glanced at her and just as quickly flicked his eyes away again. "I should apologise. It was me who barged in."

"It's fine," Hawke said with a wave of her hand, absently wondering where Anders had disappeared to. "These things happen, and all that."

Again, Fenris glanced at her then swiftly averted his eyes. Hawke felt herself getting annoyed.

"What?!" she finally burst. "I realise I look less than stellar at the moment but it's not that terrible, is it?!"

Fenris stared at a point just to the left of Hawke's face, somewhere over her shoulder. "Your shirt is on inside out," he replied, a faint tinge of red starting to spread across his cheekbones. Hawke, on the other hand, felt her face burn.

"I can't exactly fix that at the moment," she said sheepishly, "so can we disregard my inability to dress myself like a big girl and discuss what you wanted?"

"I was..." Fenris looked awkward. "You offered to teach me to read. I would like to... take you up on the offer."

It took a minute for Hawke to remember making the offer, at the same time she had given Fenris a copy of the book of Shartan. Once she did remember the conversation, though, it all came flooding back. "Oh! Well, of course. When did you have in mind?"

Fenris shifted his weight to his other foot. "Tomorrow, perhaps."

"Tomorrow is good," Hawke said. "I'll make sure I'm free."

Fenris nodded curtly and turned to leave, just as Anders came through the doorway. The elf and the mage almost collided, but Fenris stopped and sidestepped at the last moment.

"Fenris," Anders said, in a suspiciously polite tone for him. Fenris didn't acknowledge him, pushing past him to leave. Anders waited until the door shut behind him to say "Terrible manners, don't you think?"

"His manners are remarkable considering he's seen me flipped arse over tits with my clothes on all wrong. At least he can talk to me with a straight face," Hawke replied, plucking at her shirt with a mournful sigh. "I'm going back to bed. At least I can put my nightshirt on the right way round."

"Love," Anders called after her, and she paused halfway up the stairs to look over her shoulder at him. "Is this one of yours?" He held up a book, which Hawke instantly recognised as not one of hers, but...

"No, but put it in the library anyway, I'll deal with it tomorrow," she replied, continuing her trek up the stairs, thoughts rushing through her head a mile a minute.

That book was one she had seen in Fenris' mansion. The only valid reason for it to be in her house was that Fenris had brought it. That meant that Fenris had left it behind, and Anders had picked it up. The thing was, she didn't remember Fenris holding a book when she'd spoken to him.

Unless... he dropped it when he saw us.

Not uncharacteristic of someone who'd just gotten a shock, but when taken into account with Anders' sudden eagerness to pleasure her, she couldn't help but think that she'd missed half the story herself.

She was proved right a few weeks later, on another trek through the Wounded Coast (which she still felt was an absolutely dreadful name for a place, second only to the Bone Pit), and Anders and Fenris began to bicker again. Whilst Anders and Fenris bickering was generally to be expected when they were in the vicinity of each other for longer than five minutes, the jibes were usually reserved for why mages were evil and an abomination was hardly likely to change Fenris' mind on that point and why mages were akin to slaves and therefore Fenris should understand their plight.

It was a conversation she could actually mouth the words to - and had done with Varric before now, to perfection. She usually couldn't be bothered telling them to knock it off because then they both scowled at her and she hated having holes glared in the back of her head. This time, however, they didn't appear to be squabbling about mages.

"...nearly impossible for me to speak to her in private!" Fenris snapped.

"It's not my fault you only seem to want her attention when we're... indisposed," Anders replied in a smug tone. "I should complain about you interfering with my love life!"

"Mage, just because she chose you does not give you the right to keep her from me."

"Who's keeping who from who? She's a grown woman, and I'm a grown man. We have needs. It's not our fault your timing is terrible. I think you're just jealous that she picked me over you."

"Do you wish me to rip your heart out, mage?"

"You wouldn't dare. Hawke would never forgive you."

"She deserves better than someone who would use her to save his own - "

"That's enough!" Hawke finally snapped, having stood nearby and listened to what was apparently a territorial dispute over her, of all things. She only had so much patience for being discussed as though she wasn't there. "I would have had you both if I could, but neither one of you can play nice with the other!"

As soon as the words were out of her mouth she felt her face burn. Fenris and Anders were staring at her, Anders slack-jawed, Fenris startled. Somewhere to her right, she heard Isabela snigger.

Oh, that was all she needed. Bad enough Fenris seemed to have a radar for when she was getting laid and chose that exact moment to come and ask her for something - which was not helping the animosity between him and Anders any - and Fenris and Anders were arguing over her like two dogs with a bone, but now Isabela had heard her unfortunate admission. It would be halfway around Kirkwall before the sun was down.

It occurred to her that the only one of her companions that she could have lived with hearing that ill thought out statement was Merrill, just because the Dalish elf wouldn't have understood the implications behind it, she was so naive. Sebastian would have been absolutely scandalised, Varric would likely have used it as a basis for more exaggerated stories about her, and Aveline would have just shook her head in that disapproving, motherly way. She felt a slight pang at that thought - Leandra's death was never far from her mind. Bethany would have been mortified, bless her - naive, but less so than Merrill, she would have understood the implication and shrieked about it.

As for Isabela, she had a feeling her library was going to find more additions in short order. Aveline was being most unforthcoming with details about her and Donnic, so Isabela had taken to scribbling torrid tales about her and Anders, which she usually took in her stride with an amused remark about Isabela's overactive imagination and penchant for particularly lengthy descriptions. Now she had absolutely no doubt there would turn up a piece of the infamous friend fiction wherein she was getting it from both a possessed apostate with feathered pauldrons and a broody elf covered in lyrium tattoos.

On second thoughts, maybe she wouldn't throw that one in the fire if it turned up. It was a pleasant enough fantasy, but it certainly wasn't one she'd intended to ever share with either Anders or Fenris, given how much they fought.

She became acutely aware of three sets of eyes on her - one set amused, the other two stunned.

"Now," she said, trying to keep her voice cheerful - laugh it off, Hawke, make like it's a joke - "if you two have quite finished this little pissing match, can we please get on with this? I'd like to find this stupid flower for Solivitus and get back to my nice warm mansion before the heavens decide to open on our heads, yes?"

She turned on her heel and marched away, glaring at Isabela on her way past - which just made the Rivaini burst into giggles, much to her chagrin - not waiting to see if Anders and Fenris followed her.

As she stomped off, something occurred to her. What if Fenris doesn't have bad timing... what if Anders set this up somehow, to prove a point? It made sense, especially when compared to the last occasion, when Anders had been in such a hurry to get her into bed. Had he seen Fenris coming with the book and rushed to beat him there so Fenris could catch him buried balls-deep in her -

Best not think of that here! she thought quickly. I've already said enough silly things without thinking today. But I think I shall be having words with a certain feathery apostate when we get home...

The flower was, of course, at the far end of the Wounded Coast, and there were still Tal'Vashoth lurking in the area, so by the time they found it, Hawke was ready to forget all about giving Anders a piece of her mind - was in fact ready to forget about anything bar taking a nice long bath and having a nice long sleep. The entire group was suspiciously quiet as they traipsed back to the Gallows - Fenris even bypassed his usual snide remarks about the irony of bringing Anders with them. Solivitus was delighted with her resourcefulness and promised her first pick of his wares once he'd crafted them.

They split off from each other without really saying much - Isabela slipping away first with a cheerful "Catch you later!" and a lecherous wink at Hawke, ducking into the Hanged Man as they passed. At the top of the stairs to Hightown, Fenris mumbled a farewell and made towards the mansion he'd taken over as his home, much to the dismay of the neighbours. (Hawke fancied they were less annoyed about an easy-on-the-eyes elf moving in and more annoyed about the sudden boom in the rat population.)

Anders wrapped an arm loosely around her waist, leaning down to give her a peck on the cheek. "Looking forward to a rest, love?"

"I've a bone to pick with you," she said, abruptly remembering what she'd worked out whilst scouring the Coast for one lousy flower.

"That sounds ominous," Anders said with a smile, obviously not in the least bit intimidated by her. She huffed in annoyance as they walked into her estate, shedding her boots and armour in the entry hall for Bodahn to retrieve later and propping her bow and quiver in the corner out of the way.

"About the last time Fenris walked in on us," she said, not bothering to look and see if Anders was still following her.

"What about it?"

"You set that up, didn't you?" she accused, turning to fix him with her sternest glare. He blinked at her, eyes wide and innocent.

"I haven't the foggiest idea what you're - "

"Pull the other one," she grumbled. "You saw him with the book, figured he'd come here and rushed over to beat him here, didn't you? You're never usually in such a hurry to get down to business. Slow, tender, 'it-was-never-like-this-in-the-Circle'?"

Anders pulled a face. "I knew I shouldn't have told you about that. You do realise that those quick tumbles were the one highlight in an otherwise mis - "

"Don't change the subject on me!" Hawke barked, well aware that if Anders finished his thought she would probably forget exactly what she was trying to lecture him for. "Some days, I want to bang the pair of your heads together, I really do! Stop antagonising Fenris. If you orchestrate one more incident, and I mean one more, you'll be finding yourself sorely lacking in any loving whatsoever!"

Anders gave her a wounded expression. "But he's still mooning over you like a lovesick puppy! You can't blame me for wanting to make a point." His expression changed to mischievous. "Besides, what was it you said earlier? 'I'd have had you both if I could', was it? I don't think you mind getting caught in the act all that much..." His voice dropped into a seductive tone as he finished speaking, wrapping his arms around her from behind and cuddling her close, letting one hand slip dangerously close to the waistband of her trousers as his lips found her neck.

Hawke felt herself blushing again and silently cursed her pale skin that showed up the slightest hint of pink. She felt like she spent half her life doing a passable impression of a tomato some days.

"I didn't mean it like that," she said feebly, even as she tilted her head to the side to let Anders get at her neck, shivering as he placed open-mouthed kisses along it.

"Of course you didn't, love," he replied, steering her up the stairs and into the bedroom. "I'm sure you don't daydream in the slightest about being pinned between us, hmm? Me behind and Fenris in front, perhaps? Yes, I think it would be that way around." The hand not teasing its way under the waistband of her trousers slid up under her shirt to cup a breast, and she arched into the touch. "Filling you up. Do you think you could take us both, love? Or maybe you'd prefer a mouthful, hmm? Yes, I think you'd look ever so good sucking Fenris while I take you, slide right into you..."

Hawke couldn't help moaning, and Anders chuckled as his hand slipped into her smalls and a single finger pressed into her with no resistance, finding her already slick and ready for him.

"I think you like that idea as well, love," he breathed, nipping at her ear. She swatted half-heartedly at his arms.

"All right, so I may have fantasised a little. I'm a grown woman!" she said, feeling an insane urge to defend herself. Anders laughed outrightly at that, pulling his hands out from under her clothes and sucking his finger clean almost absently. Hawke had turned around when he let her go, just in time to see him licking her juices from his finger, and whatever she had been about to say was lost to a tormented groan.

"I'm sorry, love, did you want something?" he asked sweetly.

She growled, grabbed him by his ratty pauldrons, and hauled him down for a searing kiss. He wrapped his arms around her as they kissed, backing her up until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed and she tumbled backwards onto it with an undignified yelp, breaking the kiss and dragging him down with her. Anders had the good sense to put his hands out to catch himself before he could land on her.

"You," she grumbled, green eyes blinking up into his warm brown ones, "are insufferable."

"I've been told as much, yes," he replied nonchalantly, pushing himself into a more comfortable position and slipping his hands under her shirt. She responded by reaching up, unclasping the chain and pushing at his coat until it slid off his shoulders. He flashed her a grin and urged her to sit up, tugging her shirt over her head and off as soon as she did, before letting his coat drop to the floor. Hawke was already tugging at his belts before he could even return to his original position.

"What's the hurry, love?" he teased gently, trailing kisses down her neck as his own hands covered hers on the belts, helping her unfasten them and pull them open. She opened her mouth to respond, but he hushed her by pressing his lips to hers in a lazy, tender kiss, while his hands trailed up over her waist and stomach to cup her breasts. She mewled softly into the kiss as he squeezed gently, then gasped as he flicked one of her nipples with his thumb.

"Anders," she said in a warning tone when he broke the kiss, and he chuckled softly before lowering his mouth to her breasts, showering them with kisses. "Oh," she breathed, tugging clumsily at his robes as he circled one nipple with his tongue, before sucking gently at it, rubbing the other with the pad of his thumb. "Off, Anders."

"Patience," he mumbled against her skin, even as the fingers of his free hand dropped to her trousers, unfastening the laces blindly with practised ease. "I'll take care of you," he added as he released her nipple, only to suck the other into his mouth and tease it to hardness with the tip of his tongue, savouring her moans. She was so responsive to him, so sensitive. Never a pinch, or a bite, always a gentle lick, a kiss for her. Her fingers worked the tie out of his hair and flicked it away before combing through the strands, twirling them around her fingers absently.

Reluctantly, he pulled back and shed both boots and robes, leaving him in his own trousers, and tugged hers down unceremoniously. She laughed at him, kicking them off, before going quiet and looking away into the corner of the room. She hated this part - the moments where she was on display, where he looked at her. She had never really cared for her appearance, and often wondered what Anders saw in her. He shook his head, making a disapproving noise, and turned her face back to him, waiting until she met his gaze.

"Beautiful," he said softly. "If you weren't, you wouldn't have half the men in Kirkwall chasing after you."

"You know," she said lightly, with humour she didn't feel, "anyone would think you're jealous, saying things like that."

"I am," he answered before kissing her again, exploring her mouth with his tongue, gentle, almost tentative licks. She sighed into it, letting her eyes flutter closed, then gasped as his hand found its way under her smalls. He didn't press his fingers into her just yet though - instead, he trailed them along the length of her slit, teasing the edge of the lips. She whimpered into his mouth and felt his soft huff of amusement just before a single finger sank back into her in a long, smooth movement.

"You're soaked, love," he whispered when the kiss broke. "Is that because of what I said? About sharing you with Fenris?"

"Shut up," Hawke groaned, covering her face with a hand, torn between being mortified and unbearably aroused.

"I like it," Anders murmured, pressing a second finger into her and curling them up to rub against her walls. "Knowing what you like, what you think about when it's just you, alone, taking care of things..."

She wanted so much to tell him to shut up again, or at least change the subject, but his fingers were pressing into that spot inside her that made her tense around them, and the complaint became little more than a moan that sounded like a plea as she writhed against him.

"Tell me, love," he said, starting to thrust his fingers into her in long, slow strokes - teasing her. "Tell me what you imagine. If you could have us both." When she didn't reply - and didn't move the hand over her face, he indulged her shyness. "Will you tell me if I'm right, if I say what I think?"

"Yes," she mumbled.

"Alright then," Anders hummed for a moment as he pretended to think, allowing his thumb to nudge at her clit as his fingers sank back into her. "I think... you imagine us both taking you at the same time. Not your mouth. Here... and..." he slid his fingers from her and let them dip lower, smiling as she twitched away from him as they nudged at her arse. "Here. Am I right?"

Hawke couldn't bring herself to speak - could barely breathe, in fact. The best she could manage was a shaky nod. When had Anders learned how to get right inside her mind and work out what made her tick?

"Who's where, Hawke?" he asked, the sound of her name startling her out of her reverie. "No, let me ask this first. Have you ever had this before?" A fingertip slick with her own juices nudged at her pucker, and she gasped, shaking her head rapidly.

"No. Not the real thing, anyway," she admitted, blushing furiously as she said it.

"Now there's a story I'll have to get out of you sometime," Anders murmured, a fond smile on his face. "Now I'll ask my original one. Who do you have where, when you picture this? Is it Fenris, stretching you and slipping into you, inch by inch, until he's all the way in, and you can feel his hips pressed flush with yours?" He pressed, and that slick fingertip eased into her. "Or is it me, preparing you, holding your hand while you learn how it feels to have the real thing?"

"You," Hawke gasped out. "I trust you." Not to say that she didn't trust Fenris, but Anders she knew had done that before, knew how it worked and the techniques involved.

"Thanks," Anders said. It was genuine gratitude. "Then, Fenris would be... here." He nudged her smalls aside with his other hand and pressed two fingers back into her, grazing them over that spot as he did so. She moaned and arched, pressing herself against them. "Fenris here, and me here," he wiggled the fingertip that had pressed into her arse, nudging a little deeper, smiling as she squirmed at the sensations. "Both of us... think you could manage it? Being that full?"

"I'll give it a bloody good shot?" Hawke replied, splaying her fingers so she could peek at him from between them.

"I'm sure you will," Anders chuckled. "Do you know something interesting about this little arrangement, though? We'd be able to feel each other, through you. Rub against each other, inside you. Every move one of us made, the other would feel it." She moaned again, louder and more feverish, as he angled the fingers inside her towards the finger that was just barely in her arse, pressing down against the walls and letting her feel it.

"No more," she whimpered, and he pulled his fingers free of her body, pulling her smalls down with both hands before unlacing his trousers, pushing them and his smalls down together and stepping out of them. He climbed up onto the bed between her legs, and she spread them wider, offering herself to him.

"Please," she whispered, finally letting her hand fall from her face, and he sank into her with a moan of his own, savouring the answering one she let out and the feel of her legs wrapping snugly around his waist, pulling him deeper into her. With her legs holding him, he couldn't thrust much, but he could rock against her, grind into her. She loved that just as much as she loved the long, deep thrusts he favoured, and when he managed to angle himself just right so that his cock ground against that spot inside her with every movement she cried out, clutching his shoulders hard enough that her nails left indents in the skin, though not hard enough to make him bleed.

It didn't take long in that position, it never did. Before long, she was crying out again, clenching around his cock as her body trembled. Anders continued to rock against her, riding it out, trying to make it last as long as he could for her, until finally her legs relaxed and she slumped back against the bed with a sated sigh, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes. Finally free to move as he pleased, Anders drew back until only the tip remained inside her, before thrusting back in - the pace moderate, steadying her with his hands on her hips. She leaned up, curling her fingers into his hair again, and pulled him down for another kiss, this one lazy, unhurried and mostly lips.

When he came it was nowhere near the frenzied release from the last time, when Fenris had caught them in the act - just a low moan and the feel of his cock pulsing inside her as he spent himself in her. She sighed, contentedly, and held him close as he too slumped, supporting his weight on his forearms to keep from crushing her beneath him.

"I love you," she murmured absently, her mind fuzzy with pleasure and fatigue.

"I love you too. Shall I draw us a bath?" Anders asked after a moment, and she hummed, debating whether she wanted to relax in a tub full of warm water or lie there with Anders still inside her, though rapidly softening, for a little longer.

"That would be nice," she decided finally, and he chuckled, placing a kiss on her forehead before reluctantly pulling himself away from her and climbing back off the bed in search of his trousers so he could go and fetch the tub and start filling it.

As he straightened from pulling on his trousers, his eyes fell on the door, still ajar. There was someone there, he knew, just on the other side. A single green eye was just visible in the crack between the door and the frame - and from that position he knew that the person there could see the bed perfectly, and everything that had just gone on.

He raised an eyebrow at them.

After a moment, Fenris turned away from the door and slipped away as silently as he'd approached, and as silently as he'd watched and listened to Anders pleasuring her, his mind racing.

*********

It was a few days later when Anders had finalised his ideas, and he considered the piece of paper in front of him, wondering what had gotten into him that he was even entertaining the idea.

No, he knew exactly what had gotten into him. Hawke. He'd do anything to see her smile, even this. It wasn't the strangest thing he'd ever done, he mused wryly.

"What's that you're poring over?"

As soon as he heard those words three things happened. First, he let out a startled yell. Second, he flailed desperately to hide the offending piece of paper. Third, he overbalanced the stool he was sat on and fell backwards, landing at the owner of the voice's feet.

"Ah, nothing important, love," he said with a sheepish grin as Hawke leaned over to raise an eyebrow at him.

"Well that was uncharacteristicly clumsy of you," she teased, helping him back to his feet. "Is that the latest copy of your manifesto, by any chance?"

"Ah, yes, yes it is," Anders said, relieved that she'd provided him with an excuse.

"I see." Her eyes twinkled as she held her hand out to him. He stared blankly at her, and after a moment she cocked her head to one side. "You're going to expect me to read it, right? I should get a head start."

"You can't!" he squawked, then quickly shook himself and said in a much more normal tone of voice, "It's not finished yet."

"Your manifesto is never finished. It doesn't stop you getting me to read every draft you make," Hawke pointed out patiently. Anders found himself cursing her internally. Most people wanted him to shut up about the bloody manifesto, Hawke herself included, and now that he didn't actually have a copy of it to hand to save his skin, she was interested in it? If there was a Maker, he clearly delighted in watching Anders squirm.

"It's nowhere near finished!" he exclaimed. "It's not even a draft, really, just a handful of scribbles! I need to write it out properly, expand on these notes." He waved the piece of paper to punctuate that, hoping she didn't just reach over and snatch it from him. To his great relief, she didn't, simply put her hand on her hip and cocked her head to one side - the movement reminding him of the face her Mabari made when it was horribly confused, and which usually preceded a cheerful bark and a session of bounding around.

Sure enough, Hawke grinned at him. "Well, far be it for me to interrupt your creative process any further! Just make sure you're home at a reasonable hour tonight, you scared the life out of Sandal the other day, creeping in at three in the morning!" The words were barely out of her mouth before she was turning and scurrying off, leaving Anders to stare after her, completely bemused.

"I wonder if Ser Pounce-A-Lot was as similar to me as Hawke is to that slobbering mutt," he muttered to himself, before righting the upturned stool and sitting back down to stare at his 'notes' again, trying to work up the courage to follow through on his plan of action.

Hawke had said that he should be home at a decent time, but she didn't specify what constituted a decent time, and therefore Anders didn't feel terribly bad about waiting until the sun was almost completely gone to make for Hightown - the long way, even though Hawke had told him that he could always cut through the cellars if he wanted - she'd give him the key if he did. He'd refused her, and now he was glad he had, otherwise he'd have had no excuse to not just go straight home via the estate itself.

No, instead he stood in front of Fenris' stolen mansion in the remainder of the failing daylight, steeling himself. He patted his pocket more to reassure himself than to check that his paper was still there. He knew it was, tucked securely into the hidden pocket he'd had stitched into the lining. At least if the Templars caught him, there was nothing conspicuous hidden in that pocket today. Usually it held the rough plans for the latest escapade of the mage underground.

He wondered whether he should knock, or just go in and shout his greeting. He had a feeling Fenris wasn't likely to open the door if he knocked, not out of spite but just out of sheer antisocialness. Barging in, however, was likely to be bad for his health - even more so if Fenris saw it was him before he started removing vital parts. Anders imagined Fenris would probably remove said vital parts slower and as painfully as possible if he actually saw it was Anders.

None of this was encouraging him to follow through with his plan, but he reminded himself sternly I'm doing this for Hawke, and took a deep breath before pushing open the door to the mansion and slipping through it, closing it quickly behind him before anyone on the street could see him enter. Hawke didn't need to know about this unless his plan bore fruit.

"Fenris?" he shouted into the gloom, wrinkling his nose at the musty, stale smell. Even if Fenris did clean, it would take weeks to get that smell out of all the furnishings, so he couldn't entirely blame the elf for the smell. He could, however, blame him for the shards of shattered glass in the main room where bottles had been flung over the balustrade. "Fenris, are you home?"

"What do you want, mage?" growled a familiar voice, and Anders looked up to find Fenris at the top of the stairs, gauntlets missing, clutching the railing as he glared down.

"And good evening to you too," he retorted, before shaking himself. "I had a proposition for you."

"Not interested," Fenris snorted, turning and heading back towards the room he called his bedroom. "Leave."

Anders noticed that Fenris stumbled a fraction as he made the turn, which bolstered his confidence. Fenris had drunk enough to be slightly unsteady. It would do two things - make him more amenable to considering what Anders himself already thought was an absolutely ridiculous proposition, and make him easier to evade if he did decide to attack. Both of these factored together made Anders stride across the hall and climb the stairs despite the instruction to leave. Fenris was already sitting by the fire in the bedroom by the time he got up there, wine bottle clutched loosely in one hand.

"I thought I said 'leave'," Fenris said without turning, "not 'invade my privacy and harrass me further'."

"At least hear me out first," Anders replied. "You might actually be interested."

"If it involves the plight of mages, save your breath."

"It does not!" Anders said gleefully, savouring the slightly bewildered expression Fenris gave him for a split second at that before he managed to return his expression to neutral and disinterested. "It involves Hawke, actually."

Fenris' head snapped around so fast Anders thought he might have given himself whiplash for a moment, which provoked a strange conflict between two urges in him - one to point and laugh, the other to reach over and check for any damage and heal it. He blamed his healer's instincts for the latter one.

"I thought that might get your attention," he said instead. Fenris' expression abruptly went blank, then angry.

"Do not dangle her choice in front of me, mage," he snarled, "unless you would like me to send you back to her in a box."

"Because that would go over so very well with Hawke," Anders couldn't resist snarking back. "If you want to get in Hawke's pants, killing me is not the way to go about it. If you'd just listen to me for a minute though, I have a better way."

He was starting to enjoy watching Fenris' face flitting through emotions. It confirmed that Fenris could be something other than angry all the time, if nothing else.

"So you intend to leave her?"

"I - what? No!" Anders was torn between being absolutely livid that Fenris thought so little of him and completely confused as to the line of logic that had led Fenris to that conclusion. "Where did you get a daft idea like that?!"

"Since you are talking about 'getting into Hawke's pants' and it has been made clear that this will not happen as long as she is with you, it was a logical conclusion to draw."

"I - you - well, alright," Anders conceded finally, "I can see your logic there. But no, I am not leaving Hawke. And who said that you can't have her while she's with me?"

"I believe it was Hawke herself," Fenris replied curtly, before taking a long gulp from the wine bottle - direct from the bottle, Anders noted with distaste. "So if you do not intend to leave her, then I must presume you are here to taunt me further," he continued after swallowing.

"Now you see, I don't actually recall Hawke saying that, or anything along those lines. The only thing I can remember Hawke saying about relationships and the pair of us was, and I quote... wait a minute," Anders rummaged around before pulling the piece of paper out of his pocket and checking what he'd written down. "Ah yes! And I quote, 'I would have had you both if I could, but neither one of you will play nice with the other'. That's not exactly 'never going to happen', is it?"

Fenris had stiffened at the quote. He remembered it quite distinctly, as well as Hawke's obvious embarrassment mere seconds after she'd said it. He had not really considered the details of that statement until now.

"So," Anders continued when Fenris didn't respond, "the solution is quite simple, really. I'll play nice if you'll play nice and we both get Hawke, yes?"

"And what does Hawke gain from this... 'agreement'?" Fenris asked sharply, though his attention remained on his wine bottle rather than on Anders.

"She gets two very attractive specimens of man to see to her every desire, of course," Anders said, as though it were painfully obvious. "Come off it, Fenris, you've seen the way she looks at you when she thinks no one else is looking, I know you have. I also know that you've seen her give me the exact same looks. She likes us both."

"She chose you," Fenris said through gritted teeth.

"Because she had to! Have you been knocked on the head a few too many times, because I'm sure you never used to be this dense," Anders replied, unable to hide his smirk as that got a rise from Fenris - the elf leapt to his feet as if intending to stalk over to Anders and give him a piece of his mind - and possibly a hand through the chest - but wobbled unsteadily on his feet. "Hawke made a choice because the fact that we couldn't get along meant she had to. But... if you and I were to get along..."

"Impossible," Fenris barked, gripping the arm of the chair he'd leapt out of to steady himself. The wine bottle slipped from his fingers unnoticed and clinked as it hit the floor, cracking but not shattering.

"Why?" Anders countered, narrowing his eyes. "Because I'm a mage?"

Fenris didn't answer him, instead choosing to glare at the seat of the chair. Anders crossed his arms.

"It is, isn't it. It's because I'm a mage. Are you afraid I'm going to do something to you if you get too close?" Again, Fenris didn't reply, nor did the elf move. "It is, isn't it. After all this time we've spent in each other's company following Hawke around, I've never done a thing to you apart from heal your wounds, but you still think I'm going to stab you in the back as soon as you let your guard down. You're so afraid of a concept that you'd deny yourself something you desperately want rather than take a chance!"

"Do not, mage," Fenris said in a low, warning tone.

"Well," Anders said, unfolding his arms and forcing them down by his sides. "I'm not going to do anything to you. I won't even touch you if you don't want me to. The ball is in your court - if you can put aside your irrational hatred for me, I'm willing to share Hawke with you. If not, we can resume the 'mages are terrible people' argument at your earliest convenience."

Fenris said nothing, but Anders saw his fingers clench around the arm of the chair, the intake of breath meant to calm his temper. It was worth taking the risk.

"Or are you going to let your old Master and the memories of him keep you chained forever from what you want?"

Instinct told Anders to duck, and the wine bottle Fenris had dropped earlier shattered harmlessly on the wall behind where he had been standing.

"You know nothing of what I suffered, mage," Fenris snarled, looking every inch the wounded animal Anders imagined him to be under the prickly exterior. "Do not presume you do."

"You're right," Anders said. "I don't. But let's be honest. Do you honestly hate me that much? Have I ever done anything to give you reason to fear me?"

"Justice," Fenris replied without missing a beat. Anders winced.

"Point taken," he said, "but Justice isn't here. Justice has nothing to do with this, in fact."

"And where is your 'spirit', then?" Fenris retorted, the emphasis on the word 'spirit' making it clear that he didn't believe Anders' definition of what Justice was one little bit. Anders ignored the jibe - he wasn't going to give Fenris the satisfaction of rising to it.

"Hiding in the back of my mind with his fingers in his ears," he said flippantly, "as he usually does when I get onto the subject of sex. He doesn't understand the point of it if not to procreate and he doesn't want to, so he kindly feigns ignorance. The upshot of which being, I promise not to go all abomination in the bedroom, okay?"

Fenris stared at him with wide eyes, caught completely off guard by the joking response instead of the expected fury. For a good few minutes they stood there, staring each other down, before Fenris let out a breath and turned again, slumping back down into the chair.

"I do not see what you gain from this," he said slowly, as though he were thinking each word over before he spoke. "It does not benefit you to let me lay with Hawke."

"It benefits me in that Hawke wants it," Anders said quietly, "and I would do anything to see her happy. I don't expect you to understand that. But I'll do whatever you want to prove that I have no designs on you, no ulterior motives. I just want to see Hawke enjoy herself, but I'm not going to force you. Either you're okay with this, or you aren't. I'm not going to try to change your mind if you decide the answer is no."

When it seemed no answer was forthcoming, Anders shrugged and turned, intending to leave. Glass crunched under his boot, and at the same moment, Fenris spoke.

"I want more details."

Anders grinned to himself before turning again. Fenris was twisted in the seat, looking over his shoulder at the mage.

"How about I fetch us up a new bottle and we discuss it over drinks?"

"I thought your spirit didn't let you drink?"

"He doesn't," Anders chuckled, "but you look like you need one for even considering this."

Fenris scowled at him, but finally said "The entrance to the cellar is to the left of the entry hallway."

Anders waited until he got down to the cellar to laugh gleefully, amazed that his plan had worked out this far. If things continued to go as well as they had up to now, Hawke would soon be getting a surprise he was sure she'd absolutely love.

**********

Anders didn't enact his plan for a few weeks - giving Hawke time to cool off over the whole 'caught in the act repeatedly' issue. It also gave him time to plot the finer details with Fenris, who was slowly coming around to the idea that Anders wasn't doing it to try and benefit himself and that maybe, just maybe, the mage wasn't all bad - he was at least capable of thinking about something other than himself, which won him several points in the elf's opinion.

Even so, Fenris was obviously unsure, and Anders did his best to bring him to a point where he could be comfortable with the idea, reassuring him that Hawke would not be angry with him if he were to 'intrude on her intimate moments'. It was not easy, but finally Fenris had conceded that Hawke was perfectly capable of saying no and throwing the pair of them out of her house if they overstepped a mark, and if that was the case Anders would take full responsibility for putting Fenris up to it.

Anders hadn't mentioned to him that whether Hawke would believe Anders had engineered Fenris getting involved or not was up in the air. He had reasoned that it would undo the hard work he'd put in to get that far.

He was starting to enjoy conversing and strategising with the prickly elf, truth be told. It was the first time since they'd met that they'd been able to go more than an hour without snarking at each other. It was a pleasant change.

Justice, thankfully, kept to himself for the most part. While he was aware of Anders having sex with Hawke, and didn't always hide in the proverbial corner as Anders had claimed, he had made it perfectly clear he wanted no part of the 'deviancy' that the two men were planning for her and had subsequently retreated well before Anders got anywhere near Fenris.

Anders fancied that the lack of abomination characteristics might have improved Fenris' demeanour towards him as well.

It was drawing close to a month after he had first broached the idea with Fenris, and the details had been planned to perfection - as much as they could be while Hawke remained unaware of what was going on and therefore an unknown quantity. Tonight he had to start things. Hawke had to be suitably distracted before Fenris arrived, otherwise she would probably just shriek and throw the pair of them out - and Anders did not want to spend the night in the clinic when Hawke's bed was much warmer and softer.

He glanced at the position of the sun in the sky and did some rough estimates in his head. Satisfied that he could work with the time he had, he entered the Hawke estate and smiled a greeting to Bodahn. A few quiet words - instructions - to the dwarf, and he made his way upstairs. Hawke would be in her bedroom, no doubt - reading, or writing, or perhaps even taking a nap after a tiring day's adventuring. He snorted at that last one - the odds were against it since she hadn't disturbed him at the clinic, and she never went anywhere without him these days.

Sure enough, he found Hawke stretched out on the bed on her front, resting her head on her arms. She had her legs bent at the knee and was swaying her feet in the air, telling him that she was still awake.

"Careful, love," he said softly, savouring the slight squeak she let out before twisting to look over her shoulder at him - once she saw it was him, she relaxed. "Lying there like that could give a man ideas," he continued. "That skirt won't cover you forever."

"Yes, well, this is what they invented smalls for, isn't it?" she replied, laying her head on her arms again. Anders grinned at her and sat beside her head.

"Yes, but do you really fancy flashing them to anyone who happens to walk in?" he teased. "Unless they're lacy. Are they lacy ones?"

"Do I look like Isabela?" Hawke grumbled. "Some of the things she wears, sweet Maker!"

Anders couldn't help but laugh with her as he stroked her hair back off her face. In return, Hawke shifted slightly closer, nuzzling into his hand. That was good - she was already fairly relaxed. It'd make his part of the plan easier.

Not that making Hawke relaxed was a hardship anyway, though.

"So, what have you been up to then to send you hiding away in here doing your best to catch a quick nap?" he asked, twirling a strand of her hair around his finger. She huffed at him and scooted over to rest her head on his thigh.

"Nothing in particular. Chasing down people who keep losing their belongings and returning them, mostly. I couldn't face another day of Tal'Vashoth or slavers. Even I'm entitled to a lazy day occasionally."

"You more so than most, love," he replied fondly. "And with that in mind, how about a bath?"

"Anders..." she said in a warning tone.

"Not with me," he said with a wry smile. "I'll keep my clothes on if you like. I will not, however, not offer to scrub your back. It would be unchivalrous of me."

"Maker forbid you be unchivalrous," she replied, her voice tinged with amusement, before she let out a weary sigh. "Oh, I suppose a nice hot bath would be nice right about now. Congratulations, you've managed to talk me out of my clothes without touching me."

"I still have my touch, it seems," Anders said with a grin, nudging her head off his leg as he went to fetch the tub. Filling it would normally involve running up and down the stairs with buckets, but being a mage had its uses - he filled it with ice then used a carefully controlled fire spell to melt it. Another heated the water to a suitable temperature, and the proximity to the fire would keep it warm for a while yet. He tested the water once more with one hand and, satisfied, turned back to Hawke, to find her standing just behind him, looking distinctly nervous.

"Relax, love," he said, reaching for her and drawing her against him, wrapping his arm around her waist. "I've seen it all before, remember, and you're beautiful."

"Can't help it," she mumbled into his coat even as she began to undo her shirt. He shook his head in amusement before helping her slip it off, then pushing her skirt and smalls down together. Instinctively, she covered herself with her hands. Anders didn't try to get her to drop them, instead stepping back and placing his hands on her shoulders, guiding her to step into the tub and sink down into the water. She sighed as the heat began to sink into her skin, and once she was seated in the water she let her arms drop to her sides.

Anders let her soak for about twenty minutes before stripping himself of coat and robes, leaving him in a light shirt and trousers, and kicked his boots off too before kneeling beside the tub. "So, about your back, Serah," he teased.

"Oh, please don't," Hawke groaned, tipping her head back to look at him. "I get enough of that with Bodahn and Orana. 'Messere' this and 'Messere' that and Orana still says 'Mistress' occasionally. I hope she can get out of that habit before long. It's heartbreaking."

"She will," Anders said, resting his hands on her shoulders and waiting until after she'd flinched automatically at the touch - she was so sensitive there - before beginning to rub. Hawke groaned, relaxing back against the side of the tub.

"Oh, that's nice," she murmured, letting her eyes close. "Mmm, are you trying to butter me up for something?"

"Possibly," Anders replied, concentrating on the massage. Hawke wasn't wound as tight as he'd have expected, but she was still tense. There were plenty of knots to focus on, and he let a trickle of healing magic flow through his fingers as he worked. "Is it working?"

"Anders, you keep that up and I'll do whatever you want," she replied dreamily. Anders couldn't help the laugh that escaped him.

"Careful, love. I might ask you for the Knight-Commander's head on a pike yet."

"Is that what you want?" she countered, mirroring the conversation from the day they had first met.

"You decide," he said, just to finish off the reference, before adding, "Meredith can wait for now. I have other things in mind for you tonight."

"Sounds ominous," Hawke replied in a tone that suggested she wasn't in the least bit concerned about his potential plans. Anders mentally patted himself on the back for the idea of talking her into a bath. She was always more pliant when she was relaxed, and soaking in a nice hot bath with Anders giving her a back and shoulder rub was a guilty pleasure of hers - rarely permitted because Anders was always spreading himself too thin at the clinic already without tending to her as well, even though he'd told her multiple times he could think of nothing he would rather do.

"Yes, it's terribly ominous," Anders answered. "I intend to get you ever so relaxed before I have my wicked way with you."

"What, no ropes?" she pouted at him and they both laughed. "You don't need to charm me for that, Anders."

"I like to make an effort sometimes," he said with a shrug. "Now sit up a bit so I can scrub your back like I promised."

She laughed at him and leaned forward, hugging her knees to her chest and letting him find a small bucket to scoop water out of the tub and pour over her back before he found a washcloth and a bar of soap. Armed with a freshly lathered cloth, he returned to her and rubbed it over her back in wide circles, smiling fondly at her as she again relaxed under the touch, her hunched shoulders drooping as he worked and she became more comfortable with his presence. Hawke was precious like that, he'd found. She could talk her way out of almost anything - silver-tongued to a fault, almost enough to rival Varric - but was terribly self-conscious. Her armour covered as much as she could possibly get away with without sacrificing mobility, and even in the confines of her own home she was still shy about being seen. Anders had said multiple times that he loved her and that she was beautiful but it hadn't diminished her selfconsciousness, and he found it endearing in a way.

He poured another bucket of water over her back to wash away the soap suds, then laid a hand on her arm, a silent question. She lifted the limb out of the water and let him guide it to a position where he could wipe it down with the cloth, rubbing until her skin pinked up nicely, before rinsing it off. He did the same with the other arm, moving around the tub, and when he was done he saw her tense again, ever so slightly.

"If you lie back love, I'll do your legs too," he said, smiling as the tension fell away from her and she scooted down in the tub, lifting one leg out of the water for him to tend to. First one, then the other. By the time he'd finished - having stopped to give her feet a rub as well for good measure, since she spent so much time on them, which got him another appreciative moan - she was bordering on dozing off in the tub.

"Wakey wakey, love," he said, giving her a gentle shake. "I'm not done with you yet."

"Ohhh," she moaned, "I'm relaxed. Any more relaxed and you'll have to throw me out with the bathwater. Go ahead and have your wicked way with me."

"Not just yet, love," he said in amusement. "You'll have to get out of the bath and dried off for that." A quick glance out of the window told him that he was still on target with his plan. He reached for a fluffy towel, using a hint of magic to warm it as Hawke dragged herself upright with a groan, giving her front a cursory scrub and rinse before getting slowly to her feet and carefully stepping out of the tub, dripping water onto the rug. Anders shook his head and wrapped her in the towel, patting her down with it until she grumbled at him and began to dry herself with her usual quick, efficient swipes of the cloth along her body. Anders busied himself with disposing of the bathwater and setting the tub aside to dry as Hawke finished drying herself and tucked the towel around her body to cover all the vital parts whilst still leaving her shoulders and arms bare. Satisfied, she crossed the room and fell onto the bed with an exaggerated sigh, face down again.

Anders joined her, climbing up and kneeling beside her. Hawke began to turn over but he stilled her with a hand at the small of her back. "Stay there, like that. It's perfect for what I have in mind."

"And what is that?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at him as he scooted down the bed, putting himself beside her hips.

"You'll see," he answered, reaching up to untuck the corner of the towel where she had twisted it to keep it around herself. She shuffled uncomfortably, but let him peel back the cloth and cast it off the side of the bed, leaving her bare before him. He leaned over to place a kiss between her shoulderblades, and she sighed and lowered her upper body back to the bed, folding her arms to rest her head on them. Anders continued to place light kisses all the way down the length of her spine, placing the last on her tailbone, just above the curve of her arse.

"Anders," she said, trying for scandalised but failing miserably.

"What?" Anders replied before kissing her left arse cheek with an exaggerated smooching noise. She squealed and tried to smack him across the back of the head, but couldn't reach in that position - he ducked harmlessly out of the way of her hand, laughing freely with her. "It's an arse, love, everyone has one and yours is particularly delicious looking."

"And I can think of better uses for your mouth than sticking it down there," she replied, twisting her fingers in his shirt. He let her drag him down for a clumsy kiss, made awkward because of the position, her craning her neck to press their lips together, before retreating, placing one hand between her shoulderblades and gently pushing her back down to the bed. She could easily have resisted if she'd wanted to - he didn't push that hard - but she went down easily enough, resting her head on her arms again.

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with my mouth being on your arse," he told her, working his way down her back again with kisses and the occasional nip, which made her wriggle beneath him playfully. "If you're going to come up with an argument for me not to, might I remind you that you just had a very thorough bath?"

"You planned this, didn't you?" she accused half-heartedly, squirming under him as his mouth reached the small of her back.

"Of course," he answered, veering off to the right this time and kissing along the curve of her flesh. "Though if you're genuinely that uncomfortable I promise not to stick my tongue in even more obscene places."

"How would that even - never mind," Hawke caught herself at the last minute, "I don't want to know. You have had far too much time to experiment."

"Circle," he said by way of response, licking a stripe across the right cheek. "In all seriousness, love, you know we've discussed this. Will you let me?"

Certainly, it wasn't the first time, but Hawke was iffy about it. It took a lot of time to convince her to let him the first time, and she'd made things much harder than they'd needed to be with tensing up every time he'd touched her backside. Afterwards, she had confessed that it had done little for her, and the only reason she had successfully gotten off on it was because Anders had reached around and used his fingers to pleasure her. Even with the promise that he'd make sure she enjoyed herself for indulging him, Anders had been unwilling to try and encourage her to try it again. He'd never seen a need to, actually - they enjoyed vanilla sex enough, why go for something that would only please one of them?

Tonight though, his plans hinged on getting Hawke to agree to him sinking into her arse, and soon if he was to keep to the plan.

"Is this what you were trying to butter me up for?" Hawke mumbled, voice muffled by her arm. "Because if so, not that I don't appreciate the effort you've gone to, but you could have just asked."

"I like to make it worth your while," Anders replied, resting his hands on her hips. Her curves fit into his hands perfectly - it never ceased to fascinate him how well they fit together. "Can I?"

"...Alright," she said after a momentary pause to consider it. Anders knew that she would say yes, but she would always have that moment of having to stop and think about it. It was just the way she was.

"Thank you, love," he murmured, leaning down to kiss the right cheek this time. "I promise I'll make sure you enjoy it too."

"I'm sure you will," she answered, but she was talking mostly to herself rather than him. Anders chuckled softly and leaned over to reach for the bottle of oil he'd set by the bed earlier in the hopes that his persuasive talents would be successful. As soon as she saw the little bottle out of the corner of her eye, she tensed slightly beneath him.

"Relax," he told her, using his sternest healer-voice. "I won't let it hurt, but it'll feel better if you aren't fighting it."

"Easy for you to say, oh experienced one," Hawke replied, reaching over to grab one of the pillows and drag it down so she could hide her face in it. He didn't argue with her, or try to make her lift her head. If she wanted to be embarrassed, let her - it was adorable, in a way. Besides, he knew she was perfectly capable of telling him to stop if he went too quick, muffled by a pillow or no. The bottle was warm in his hand - naturally so, not from any magic on his part - and the stopper came out with a quiet 'pop'. To her credit, Hawke didn't flinch or tense at that, even though she must have known what was coming.

Slicking a single finger for now, Anders shifted to settle behind Hawke, who spread her legs apart to allow him to sit between them, earning her a fond smile and another kiss between the shoulderblades, even as that finger teased between her cheeks and nudged at the opening there - not attempting to penetrate, just smearing the oil around it. Hawke inhaled sharply at the first touch, then relaxed back to the bed. In response, Anders worked his other hand between her body and the bed to cup one of her breasts, squeezing gently and circling the nipple with his thumb. She hummed indulgently.

"Distraction techniques?"

"Making it worth your while," Anders said again, tweaking her nipple lightly between thumb and forefinger, then when it stiffened in response, swiped the pad of his thumb over it, smiling as Hawke squeaked softly and arched her back, pushing her breast into his hand. "Though the distraction is an appreciated side-effect." As he said that, he pressed the finger at her pucker forward, feeling the muscle resist for a split-second before giving, letting his finger slip into her with a wet sound. Instantly, she tensed, clenching tightly around him, and he murmured soothingly to her, caressing her breast and teasing her nipple to take her mind off it. Finally, he felt her relax again, the pressure around his finger easing.

He had time.

"We'll go as slow as you need, love," he told her, thrusting that one finger into her lightly, slowly working it deeper each time until the entire length of it disappeared into her. "No need to rush."

Hawke mumbled something into her pillow, before reaching for the hand on her breast. He let her guide it down to her stomach, where her grip faltered - he took the initiative and slid his hand lower, tracing a finger along her slit and smiling as she moaned softly.

"That's a better distraction," she told him, rocking her hips down into his hand. He chuckled, teasing along the edge of her folds with one fingertip as he freed his other hand, reapplying the oil to the first finger and slicking a second too. The first finger slid back into her easily, less an uncomfortable intrusion and more a strange feeling now, but the nudge of the second at the hole made her tense again. He let his finger rest there, not pushing just yet, and slid a finger of the other hand into her, curving it up to feel for the spot that made her mewl delightfully for him. It was easy to find - he'd had far too much practise - and as soon as she mewled he pressed, and the second finger slid into her, not as smoothly as the first, but still, it was in. She didn't tense around them this time, but she did let out a strangled groan into the pillow. Anders leaned forward to nuzzle at her neck, pressing an open-mouthed kiss there and feeling her shiver beneath him.

"I'm okay," she said finally, and he pushed himself back up onto his knees and began to work the two fingers in her arse steadily, slowly spreading them wider inside her to stretch her. She moaned into the pillow, and he rewarded her with a swipe of his thumb against her clit, chuckling as she gasped and squeezed tight around both sets of fingers, slipping a second into her and angling his hand so that the heel of it teased over the sensitive nub with each shift of her hips. With something to rut against - his fingers inside her, the slight friction of his hand against her - she was distracted beautifully, and it allowed him to slick a third finger and work it into her arse with barely any reaction from her save a momentary hiss at the stretch.

"Okay?" he asked. The angle he was holding his right hand at to allow her to ride his fingers and rub against him was awkward, and he could feel the cramp building in his wrist, but it was worth it to make things easier for Hawke - Hawke who was terribly indulgent of him and his desires at the best of times, and he hoped that she would appreciate the lengths he had gone to for her tonight once Fenris fulfilled his side of the plan.

"Yeah," she breathed, and rather than grinding down onto the fingers curved up inside her, she rocked back onto the fingers pressing into her arse, making both of them hiss. "Okay, yeah, I'm okay."

"Take it easy," Anders murmured, finally succumbing to the pain in his wrist and pulling his fingers out of her - though not before trailing them up the length of her slit and letting a spark of electricity play over her clit in the process, making her squeal and buck beneath him. He shook his hand once it was free to try and ease the cramp, working the fingers of his other hand into her arse carefully, stretching her perhaps more than strictly necessary, but he was damned if he was going to hurt her. Better to prepare too much than not enough.

"Anders," she growled, and pushed back to meet his fingers again. "I'm ready."

He considered protesting, just to sate his own desire to make sure she was without a shadow of a doubt prepared for him, but that had the potential to be counterproductive. Instead he pulled his fingers free and wiped them off absently on the discarded towel from earlier, before gripping her hips and urging her up onto her knees. She shifted into the desired position, clutching the pillow with one hand to brace herself, looking over her shoulder at him as he drizzled the oil over his cock and spread it with a couple of cursory strokes.

"Be gentle," she said, betraying her nervousness, and he chuckled softly and leaned over her, pressing himself flush to her back, cock slipping against her arse but not penetrating - nowhere near the right angle to do so. He pressed another open-mouthed kiss against her neck and felt her shudder beneath him, shift her knees a fraction wider apart for balance.

"Just tell me if it hurts, love," he said before pushing himself back upright and holding her hip with one hand, his cock with the other, steadying them both and positioning himself before pushing forward, letting his weight do some of the work. For a moment, her body resisted and he opened his mouth to protest, to say that she wasn't ready, she needed more preparation, but then the head slipped in with a pop and the pair of them moaned - Hawke's more surprised, his more pleasured. He forced himself to hold still until she nodded, then let himself slide the rest of the way into her in a single, smooth stroke, until he was pressed snug against her. He could feel her tremble slightly beneath him, and let go of her hips to place his hands on the bed on either side of her chest so he could lean down and kiss her back.

"Easy," he murmured, "I'll wait as long as you need."

"It's not that," Hawke groaned, shifting her weight and making both of them gasp at the sensations, "it's just... weird. Takes a minute."

"I know, love," Anders soothed. "And I love you, you know that, right?"

"For letting you stick it up my arse?" she said, huffing out a laugh, and he couldn't help but chuckle with her.

"For everything," he told her, wrapping his arms around her and carefully sitting back on his heels, pulling her with him so that she ended up sitting in his lap, him still inside her. From there, it was an easy matter to disentangle his legs and stretch them out in front of him, nudging her thighs apart with his knees. "You deserve so much more."

"Anders," she sighed, turning her head and tilting it back just so, in the way she did when she wanted a kiss. He leaned in to indulge her, even as his hand slid down between her legs again and his fingertips began to tease along her folds again, making her moan softly into the kiss. He glanced at the window when she pulled away and laid her head back on his shoulder. Outside, the twilight had set in. Fenris should be arriving shortly.

If he listened carefully, he could hear the faint thud-thud-thud of bare feet taking the stairs. He hoped that the plan worked, even as he rolled his hips up against Hawke - sinking just that tiny bit further into her - and teased a spark across her clit again, making her cry out and arch her back. It distracted her long enough that Fenris was able to open the door without her noticing.

Of course, as soon as she relaxed and opened her eyes, she saw Fenris in the doorway, watching them - there was no possible way she couldn't. Anders had positioned them perfectly on the bed so that Fenris had an exquisite view of what was going on, nothing concealed.

"Anders," she said in a warning tone, arms instinctively coming up to cover her breasts. He could tell she was blushing even if he couldn't see her.

Instead of leaving, however, Fenris stepped into the room and let the door swing shut behind him. Anders felt Hawke tense, her body clenching around him, and bit his lip to keep from groaning, forcing himself to keep his eyes on Fenris instead.

"Fenris...?" Hawke said, her tone confused now.

"I can play nice if you can, Fenris," Anders said, letting the corner of his mouth tug upwards into a lopsided smile. "What do you say?"

Fenris seemed to consider that for a moment, before he took another, very deliberate, step forward. "That is acceptable," he breathed, tone dripping desire. "Hawke?"

Anders hoped that the stunned silence that followed wasn't Hawke debating the best way to scream, kill them both and feed their corpses to the dog.

For a moment, Hawke couldn't find any words for the situation - or how bizarre her life had gotten that Fenris and Anders were both in her bedroom discussing having sex with her at the same time without threatening to kill each other. In fact, she could almost be sure that Anders had planned it - in direct odds to every other case of being caught in the act he'd orchestrated previously.

It made no sense.

The most logical conclusions were that she was asleep and dreaming this scenario, straight from her fantasies, or that she was hallucinating.

There was also the option of a demon preying on her desires, but she wasn't a mage and while she knew demons didn't always choose mages to tempt, she doubted one would go to the trouble of trying to enthrall her.

"Anders," she finally managed to say, again, her voice cracking with the unspoken question.

"It's us, love," he said soothingly. "No tricks, just an offer."

"Why?"

"You want it," Fenris said stiffly, "or so I am led to believe."

Someone had tattled. She would have to keep her journal away from her companions. Isabela couldn't keep a secret if her life depended on it if she thought there was a chance for something juicy to come of ratting the secret's owner out. Varric would at least have had the discretion to tease her about it without involving either mage or elf.

Wait. Anders was not freaking out about the possibility of Fenris joining them. In fact, he was remarkably calm about it.

The pieces fell into place with a finality that left her dumbstruck. Anders set this up.

Because she had confessed her desires to him, he had gone out of his way to provide a way for her to have them.

The thought was both touching and infuriating, in its own way.

"What happens after?" she asked, swallowing nervously and trying not to notice how dry her mouth had gone.

"What do you want to happen?" Anders asked. Fenris was stood in the middle of the room, still as a statue, as though he were waiting for something.

For me to tell him it's okay, Hawke realised dimly, even as she tried to organise her thoughts and come up with a response for Anders. The one that wanted to spill from her she didn't dare voice yet.

"I don't know," she finally said, before stretching a hand out in front of her, reaching for Fenris even though she knew he was too far away. "Fenris."

The sound of his name seemed to shake Fenris from his seeming paralysis, and he took another step towards the bed before pausing again, looking down at his hands as though he'd only just remembered that he was still wearing his armour, though his sword was nowhere to be seen - probably left in the entry hallway with her bow and Anders' staff.

"Take the gauntlets off," Anders said from behind her, and Fenris unbuckled them swiftly, letting them fall to the floor with a heavy thud before closing the gap between himself and the bed, placing one knee on the mattress in front of them.

"Hawke," he said again. She recognised it for what it was - a plea for confirmation, that she wanted this, that he was not overstepping a boundary if he reached out for her. That whatever happened, she wouldn't cast him away. She could see the thinly veiled desperation in his eyes. It was almost enough to make her tell him no, just to keep from seeing his pain when he was forced to leave once again.

Anders would never agree to anything long term.

"Yes," she said instead, because Anders had gone to the trouble of arranging this for her and she was entitled to enjoy it. Deal with the fallout later. She was good at that. "Please."

Fenris' shoulders drooped slightly as the tension went out of them, before he darted forward with surprising speed, pushing her back against Anders' chest as his hands cupped her face and he leaned in for a kiss that could only be described as feverish. As if he'd been waiting three years for the opportunity.

Thinking about it, he probably had.

The kiss was clumsy, inexperienced, but she didn't care. Her arms wrapped around him as best they could with his spiky armour still in play, pulling him in until her breasts pressed against the cold metal of his breastplate, making her gasp into the kiss. Fenris took advantage of that to push his tongue into her mouth and explore, making up for lack of technique with enthusiasm. Rather than pull away and draw attention to that, though, Hawke chose to lead by example, flicking her own tongue against the elf's in a light, teasing swipe before retreating slightly. Fenris learned quickly; he mirrored her movement and she moaned in response.

"I'm almost feeling left out," Anders said from behind her, and she pulled away from Fenris reluctantly to turn her head and offer Anders a kiss too - which he accepted with a chuckle.

"You have a head start," Fenris said dryly. Hawke heard the sound of a buckle being undone and then another, then a clatter as something fell to the floor. She jerked away from Anders in surprise, though his arms around her waist prevented her from jerking too far, keeping him seated inside her - the aforementioned head start - and looked up at Fenris, now minus his breastplate, already lowering himself back to his original position, trapping her between their chests.

"You know," she said, trying to cover up how desperately exposed she suddenly felt with her front pressed against Fenris', the heat of his body not diminished in the slightest by the jerkin still between them, "you have other, spikier parts you should really dispose of."

"You would have to let go first," Fenris replied, raising one eyebrow in amusement. Hawke blushed as she realised that she did indeed still have hold of him, hands fisted in the back of his jerkin and keeping him within arms reach. It took a concentrated effort to relax her grip and let him wriggle out of it, backing away to undo more straps and buckles to dispose of the spiked parts of his armour.

Rather than whine at Fenris being out of reach again, Hawke twisted her upper body around in an attempt to look at Anders, who met her gaze before nuzzling at her neck, nipping lightly at the skin there and strangling a groan as she instinctively tensed up around him, an answering moan escaping her before she could stop it.

"Okay?" Anders asked, mouth still against her neck. She felt the words more than heard them.

"Yes," she said firmly. It was beyond anything she had ever imagined might happen, but she was definitely interested and willing to be involved in the proceedings, despite any nerves or embarrassment. It could be a once in a lifetime opportunity, after all. She wanted to ask Anders why, what had changed - why had he gone from trying to chase Fenris off to offering him an open invitation into their bed, but the words wouldn't come.

That was probably for the best.

Fenris was back, hand hovering uncertainly just above her side, and she arched up until their skin touched, turning her head back towards him and reaching out to pull him closer. Her hand found his hair and curled into it, guiding him down to her lips again. The kiss was much more sure this time, Fenris more confident in his movements as his lips pressed against hers, moved, his head dipping slightly to take her bottom lip between his teeth and worry it for a moment. She moaned at that, felt Anders tremble beneath her and let out a moan of his own.

"I hate to rush you," Anders grated out, "but this is testing my restraint something rotten."

"You would do well to learn some, mage," Fenris replied, reluctantly drawing back enough to speak, though the words lacked their usual venom. "I intend to savour the experience."

"Savour it all you like," Anders groaned, "but I make no promises I can keep myself in check until you decide to move things along."

Hawke couldn't help but feel that she should be annoyed that the boys were talking around her, almost as though they'd forgotten she had a choice and could still turn the pair of the out of the bed and indeed out of the house. More likely, she thought wryly, they knew that she would not dare to do that to them. Not now, with her fantasy being dangled before her.

"You are doing it for Hawke," Fenris was saying, "not me." That said, Fenris dipped back down for another kiss, this time with tongues, the hand on her side sliding higher - cautious, yet eager. Without his spiked armour, Hawke was able to wrap her arms around his neck without impaling herself, and used the grip to pull their bodies flush again. Dimly, she thought that the world shifted on its axis - it was only when Fenris drew back for breath that she realised Anders had pulled her down, lying flat on the bed with her resting on his chest, and that Fenris had followed them down, keeping her pinned between them.

Up close, she realised that Fenris' eyes were a very striking shade of green - what little green was left ringing the black.

"Hawke," Fenris said, slightly breathless and rough around the edges, and she whined, moving the hand that had been in his hair down to his back and scrabbling fruitlessly at his jerkin. He made a sound halfway between a frustrated huff and a faint chuckle and reached back to catch her hands with his own, bringing them back around between them and holding her there for a moment before releasing her and pushing up onto his knees, bringing himself upright again, fingers deftly unfastening the jerkin and shedding it almost before she even thought to move from where Fenris had put her.

"Oh," she heard Anders say from behind her, and she could only agree with him.

Without the jerkin covering his upper body, Fenris' lyrium markings were on display, finally - elegant swirls and swoops that almost looked like some kind of arcane script etched into his very flesh. The urge to reach out and follow one of those lines with her finger, trace where it curled delicately around the nipple was overwhelming, and she remembered only at the last minute Fenris' aversion to touch.

"May I?" she asked in a voice that was little more than a whisper. It was all she could manage.

"Yes," Fenris said after a moment's hesitation. When her hand settled on his chest - overlapping the lyrium lines, but not purposefully tracing them - his fingers twitched by his sides as he resisted the urge to clench his fists. She kept her hand still there for a minute, giving Fenris time to adjust, before curling her fingers and slowly, so as to give him time to stop her, pressed a fingertip to one of the lines. Fenris inhaled sharply but did not jerk away or shake her off, so she traced it, following it across the planes of his chest, circling his nipple, then away again.

The markings all seemed to converge at a single point, every single line going back to one point no matter where they began - directly over the elf's heart. Hawke laid her hand flat over the knot of lyrium in the centre of Fenris' breastbone and fancied she could feel the hum of the lyrium as well as Fenris' heart, pounding beneath her hand.

Fenris was nervous.

She never would have guessed to look at him.

Fenris raised one hand but aborted the gesture halfway - she caught his hand before it could drop to his side and took a deep breath, raising it and placing it between her breasts, over her own heart, beating just as quickly as Fenris' beneath her hand. His eyes widened just a fraction, and she let go of his hand, letting her own fall away. Fenris didn't recoil from her, or pull his hand away, just let it rest where she had placed it for a moment, looking into her eyes. Hawke smiled weakly at him, a silent understanding passing between them, before Fenris moved his hand to the bed beside her and Anders, the other going to the other side to frame them as he lowered himself down, sandwiching Hawke between them again.

Pressed against him, bare skin to bare skin, Hawke could definitely feel the faint hum of power in the arcane swirls and dots that marked Fenris' skin, and she couldn't help but shiver. Beside that, though, there was also a faint thrill at being trapped between them. Safe. Warm. Loved. Wrapped in the arms of the two men she absolutely adored, that it had broken her heart to choose just one of.

For a moment, she forgot completely about the sex and wrapped her legs around Fenris' waist to keep him from escaping, pulling away and leaving her again now that she finally had him. The motion, however, did two things - it shifted her in such a way that she was acutely aware of Anders inside her, and it also brought Fenris' hips into contact with her own - or more accurately, the telltale bulge in his leggings.

It wasn't soon enough for that. She wanted more of this touching, exploring, wanted to drag this night out as long as she could in case she never got to experience it again.

Anders groaned behind her, and she could picture him in her head, biting his lip. Fenris hissed at the sudden contact of their bodies, even with his leggings still between them.

"Touch her," Anders said, through gritted teeth by the sounds of it. "She doesn't bite."

The insane urge to say unless you're into that kind of thing rose in Hawke and she stuffed it down before she could blurt it out. Deflection now would be counterproductive, no matter how nervous she felt.

Fenris' hands twitched on either side of their bodies, as though he were considering the idea, before he braced his weight on his left arm and raised his right hand hesitantly, pulling back slightly to allow his hand to slip between them, tracing up over her stomach. She bit her lip to keep from moaning, keeping her eyes on Fenris as he touched her. Fenris didn't look at her face, rather, he concentrated on his hand and the flesh directly below it, his gaze following his fingers higher, over her stomach, to the bottom of her ribcage, up to her breastbone where it stopped, resting over her heart again.

Her heart was still fluttering, even before Anders let out a noise halfway between disapproval and amusement before saying "Now move your hand to the left a few inches."

Fenris scowled at him over her shoulder, but he did as Anders had suggested, cautiously laying his hand over the curve of her right breast, bringing his fingers to rest as well as his palm. Throughout the movement, he kept his eyes on Hawke's face, and she nodded at him. Yes, it's okay, you can touch them.

Fenris flexed his fingers experimentally, squeezing gently, and Hawke moaned softly, arching her back to push up into his touch. His eyes, which had dropped to her breasts once she had nodded, darted up to her face again at the sound before back down. He licked his lips slowly, subconsciously, and Hawke bit her lip to keep from pleading. Fenris probably didn't even realise what he'd done.

"Don't just squeeze," Anders was saying. "Kiss, lick, pinch if you're gentle. She likes it."

"Pinch?" Fenris repeated, a hint of confusion in his tone even as he splayed his fingers wide, mapping the curve of her breast. Anders reached around and laid his hand over Fenris'. There was a moment where something passed between them unspoken, Hawke wasn't sure what as she couldn't see Anders, but then Fenris' gaze returned to their hands and he let Anders guide his fingers down, to swipe his thumb over her nipple to make it stiffen, then urged his thumb and forefinger to close over the pebbled flesh and squeeze. The slight hint of pain ran straight through her, and she arched up with a cry, not caring if she startled Fenris any longer.

"See?" Anders murmured, rolling his hips up against her, probably to keep his interest piqued while Fenris worked towards fulfilling the fantasy, but it made Hawke cry out again and squirm atop him until his hands gripped her hips and forced her to still.

"Not just yet, love," he chuckled fondly. Fenris, meanwhile, was trailing his fingertips over her breast, brushing them over her nipple and watching as it perked up to the attention, standing proud and begging to be touched.

"Fenris," Hawke said, not caring that it came out as a plea more than anything else. Fenris looked up at her, and she twisted a hand loosely into the back of his hair and brought his head down towards her breasts. He took the initiative from there, and finally his lips closed around her nipple, sucking gently and flicking it with the tip of his tongue. "Yes," she gasped, tipping her head back onto Anders' shoulder again and letting her eyes flutter closed.

"Down here, too," she heard Anders say, just before Fenris' hand pressed over her mound, no doubt guided by Anders. This time, Fenris didn't need any further guidance to trace a finger along the length of her slit, then nudge that same finger between her folds and repeat the motion, grazing over her clit and nudging teasingly at her opening before pulling away.

"Hm," she heard him say as his mouth left her breast, and she opened her eyes just in time to see him examining his fingers, covered with her own juices. Automatically, she put a hand over her face to hide the flush she could already feel spreading across her cheekbones, but Anders gripped her wrists and pulled her hands down to her sides, holding them there.

"Watch," he told her firmly - not quite an order, but with enough authority to make her think twice about doing anything but.

Fenris brought his fingers up in front of his face and considered them for a moment before extending his tongue to lick one of them experimentally. Hawke couldn't help the broken, needy sound that rattled out of her throat at the sight, even when it made Fenris glance back to her, eyes half-lidded and tongue half-extended for another lick of his fingers.

"It tastes better from the source," Anders offered.

"Hm," Fenris replied, finishing the task of licking his fingers clean. "Are you suggesting a course of action?"

Anders responded by shifting beneath Hawke, rocking up into her again, before letting go of her wrists and instead gripping her thighs, pulling her legs apart and baring her fully to Fenris. Hawke let out a cry, instantly throwing an arm over her face. She could feel exactly how wet she was - wet enough that the base of Anders' cock was slick with her juices despite going nowhere near her opening. She also knew that Fenris was looking at the most tender parts of her right that moment, and Anders' grip prevented her from closing her legs.

The brush of soft hair against her inner thigh, just above where Anders' fingers rested, made her twitch, and she peeked out from under her arm to see a familiar mop of silver-white hair and green eyes that were a shade darker than usual - or maybe that was just the effect the size of his pupils gave - settling between her spread legs, close enough that she could feel his breath against her.

"Fenris," she said - absently wondered when her vocabulary had been reduced to nothing more than Fenris and Anders and yes, please!. The response was a huff of hot breath against her before deft fingers spread her folds and an equally clever tongue licked the full length of her, dragging over her clit with just the right amount of pressure.

She squealed.

Anders let out a strangled groan as the pleasure caused her to clench around him - that action making her cry out again, feeling his cock inside her, stretching her around it despite her body's best efforts to close up - and gasped "Do it again," to Fenris, who obliged without hesitation this time, actually daring to let his tongue push into her just a fraction, teasing, before continuing upwards. Again, she squealed, her body jerking from the sensations and Anders swore.

"Here," he said, and she felt one of his hands let go of her leg. "With the tip of your tongue."

She knew even before Fenris flicked her clit repeatedly with the very tip of his tongue as directed what Anders had been telling him to do. As soon as he did so, her body went rigid, and she bit her lip so hard she swore for a moment she tasted blood. She'd been teased too long to last, and Anders had known it.

She came just from Fenris' tongue against her, trying to choke her cry. Anders made no such effort, jerking up forcefully into her with a handful of uncontrolled, rough thrusts and a loud curse before regaining his composure before he could come and stilling his hips, taking a deep breath and forcing it out slowly. She could only concentrate on sounds, her vision still blurred around the edges as she reeled from the force of her release. When the blinding pleasure subsided, she became vaguely aware of a gentle pressure, kittenish licks between her legs - not intended to pleasure, this time, but to taste.

She tried to say Fenris but the best she could manage was a low moan. It seemed to do the trick - Fenris lifted his head to look up at her, lips shining wetly with her own wetness.

"I don't think I can keep this up much longer," Anders said from behind her, "and she's as ready as she's going to get, Fenris."

The elf made a soft "hm" sound again and pulled away. Hawke managed to stop herself from whining or reaching for him when it became apparent he was only moving away to strip his leggings off. Instead, she watched curiously as Fenris gripped the waistband and slowly peeled the skin-tight material down, turning his body as he did so to deny her the view she was seeking and working his legs free, finally kicking the leggings off and over the side of the bed.

Her throat went dry and she swallowed awkwardly, not sure what she expected as Fenris untwisted to settle on his knees, legs tucked under him, fully on display with a kind of graceful ease she could never hope to possess. She squirmed atop Anders until she was able to get her hands on the bed and push herself up into a half-sitting position so she could look at him better.

The markings continued below Fenris' leggings, arcing down his legs elegantly, but they also curled around his cock and balls. Hawke could only imagine the pain Fenris must have felt having lyrium embedded in such sensitive places, but at the same time couldn't deny the beauty. The lines around his balls almost looked as though they were caressing the flesh, and the ones that traced down his cock looked much like the ones on his throat - branching out from a central vein that ran down the entire length.

Fenris lowered a hand to his crotch and Hawke realised she'd been staring.

"No," she breathed, and Fenris started, jerking back. "No, Fenris, come here, please."

At least she'd remembered how to talk again.

Fenris hesitated, before slinking closer on hands and knees, body angled so as to conceal himself from her view. He looked very much like the wolf he'd been named for in that instant - prowling, rather than moving, with the grace and elegance usually commanded by the beasts. He came close enough that she could reach forward with one hand, bracing herself on the other, and stroke his cheek.

"Beautiful," she breathed, mirroring the reassurance that Anders often gave her, and saw Fenris' eyes widen a fraction before he let them close and nuzzled into her hand.

"Are you ready, love?" Anders asked quietly, and she nodded before remembering Anders probably couldn't see the motion.

"Yes," she said, then as an afterthought, "but be gentle?"

"I will not hurt you," Fenris swore, his voice low, sincere.

Anders once again gripped her thighs, pulling her legs apart gently, and she put her hand back to join the other on the bed, keeping herself in that half-sitting position as Fenris shifted into place between her spread legs, his knee painfully close to Anders' balls in order to make the position work.

"Don't make any sudden movements," Anders said with a hint of a chuckle, and even Fenris cracked a faint smile at that, before resting his hand on one of Hawke's legs, guiding it to rest over his shoulder so as to give him better access. Hawke would have felt embarrassed about being spread out for all to see if Fenris hadn't wasted no time at all in positioning himself and pressing forward, steadying his cock with one hand around the base until it slid into her fully.

The only thought Hawke could come up with was so full! Anders had not lied when he'd said that they would be able to feel each other through the thin walls of her body - she could feel the way Fenris' cock pressed into the outline of Anders', pushing against the flesh from the other side, and then slid along the outline to sink deeper into her. She let out a desperate keening sound - one that was obviously pleasure rather than pain, and so neither of the men batted an eyelid or paused.

They both held still for a long minute once Fenris had sunk fully into her, giving her and themselves time to adjust, before Fenris slowly pulled back and rocked forward again, wrapping his arm around the leg over his shoulder for leverage. Again, she felt their cocks press against each other through her, and her head tipped back, a cry escaping her. She heard Fenris hiss, and Anders inhale sharply.

"Now," Anders breathed, before rolling his hips in a circle, pushing himself up into her as best he could. The position was awkward - Anders had nowhere near the same amount of mobility as Fenris - but even so he was able to pull out at least halfway before pushing back into her. "You."

Fenris thrust as Anders said 'you', following the mage's guidance, and as soon as he'd hilted again, Anders repeated his little half-thrust, then Fenris - rapidly settling into an alternating rhythm, one thrusting into her as the other pulled back, leaving her painfully empty and deliciously full at the same time. Hawke couldn't think straight, could bring herself to do nothing but clutch at the bedsheets beneath her fingers and moan as they had their way with her.

It was everything she'd dreamed of and more. She was going to be utterly ruined by this, and she didn't care. It was worth it all for that one moment, being with both of them, feeling them both inside her, pressing against each other, rubbing parts inside her that would normally be difficult to tease if not impossible alone. The presence of Anders' cock in her arse forced Fenris against the spot inside her that made her tense, which made both men cry out and speed their thrusts. It was a vicious circle. There was no way she was going to last longer than a few minutes, even having come already.

"Ready?" Anders said. She opened her mouth to ask what he meant but the words were lost, replaced with a squeal that bordered on a scream as they shifted their rhythm perfectly to both thrust into her at the same moment. Her fingers scrabbled and clawed at the bedsheets and she was sure her toes curled at the sensation - and the groan Anders let out, closely followed by a strangled cry from Fenris, told her that it felt just as good for them too.

When they both pulled back in unison she almost sobbed, the feeling of emptiness almost unbearable. They thrust back into her quickly, and the near-sob became another blissful squeal. She couldn't concentrate on anything long enough to make sense of it - she could hear Anders' voice, speaking, saying something to Fenris between gasps and moans, and Fenris answering with the same difficulty, but the details were lost to her.

Then Fenris rocked back on his heels and thrust into her again, angle slightly different, and all she could do was cling to the sheets for dear life as her body spasmed, the pleasure so intense that she couldn't scream, couldn't cry out, could do nothing except gasp raggedly as she came for the second time, harder than she'd ever thought possible. Even before she'd finished, she heard Anders and Fenris both curse - Anders in the common tongue, Fenris in Arcanum - and felt them both thrust in once more and spill themselves in her, almost in unison. Her arms gave out and she half slid, half-fell back onto Anders' chest.

Fenris slumped over her, letting her leg drop to the side and resting his forehead against her shoulder, panting against her skin. She couldn't move, her entire body felt so weak she was sure she would fall if she even tried to get up. She could feel Anders beneath her panting too, both of them sounding as wrung out as she felt.

It was absolutely worth it.

"Get off me," Anders finally groaned a few minutes later, "I can't breathe."

Fenris made a strangled noise and awkwardly rolled to the side, pulling free of Hawke's body and collapsing on the bed beside them. Hawke took a moment to steady herself before following his example, rolling to the side and managing to land snugly between them both. Anders turned over a moment later to spoon her.

She was a mess, there was no way she couldn't be. Her hair was probably a mess and she had their seed dripping from both holes - but she was too blissful to care. She managed a contented sounding hum and slung an arm over Fenris' waist, only to feel him stiffen under her touch, tensed as though he were about to jump out of the bed.

"Stay," Hawke said. It came out as a plea rather than a statement, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

"I don't think - " Fenris began, but to Hawke's surprise - and apparently Fenris' too, if his expression was anything to go by - it was Anders who interrupted his excuse.

"If you get out of this bed now you'll fall right on your arse, so shut up, lie down and enjoy the afterglow while it lasts."

Hawke started to giggle helplessly at that. Fenris stared at them both, then huffed and laid back down beside them, though on his back rather than his side. Hawke draped her arm over his stomach again and cuddled closer. He didn't push her away.

There would be words that would have to be had once they'd all rested, details to work out - whether this had been a one time occurrence or the start of something more - but Hawke was happy to stay right where she was, snuggled up between the two men she loved until that conversation could not be avoided any longer.