Hard In Hightown

Quinntus Hawke was sprawled out on his bed, still in his armor, having just returned home from the Gallows. Meredith wanted him to track down some rogue mages. Three of them. He wasn’t looking forward to the task, he’d had more than enough of dealing with mages to last him a lifetime. He sighed and silently apologized to his friends, his sister, and his father. After what had happened with Mother though… he had started to see the Templar’s side more and more, no matter how crazy Meredith was becoming. Before Hawke came to Kirkwall, he would have been all for having well educated apostates living life freely. Now the matter was a murky, seething mess. Quinntus sighed and pulled down his hair, then breathed in the scent on his sheets. He allowed himself a small smile. At least something was going right these days. 

Quinntus rolled over, and shucked his armor off, storing it away in his chest before slipping into something more comfortable. He tried to comb the small bump out of his hair from where it had been tied back. He’d told Bodahn not to let in any visitors today, but the dwarf was smart enough to know that never applied to a certain elf, if he decided to come by. Even though they had rekindled the physical side of their relationship (as Hawke was too pathetic or stubborn to believe Fenris had truly left him all those years ago) it was still a bit touch and go as their relationship moved on to the next level.

Fenris slipped in through the front door of the estate. He hesitated for a moment before entering further, pacing around the foyer. He began to second-guess his unanticipated visit. He hadn’t seen Quinntus since much earlier that morning, and he’d spent the intervening hours longing to be with him again. But he worried that perhaps his presence would be an imposition at a time when Hawke would rather be alone. Surely, the man did not wish to spend every spare moment in his company. Ultimately, his desires won out and he took a deep breath and entered the Main Hall. Bodahn informed him that Hawke was in his quarters and had left specific instructions that Fenris could show himself upstairs. Fenris bit back a smile as he took the steps two at a time.

Hawke pushed himself up when he heard the quiet shuffle of bare feet against the floors. It was a quiet sound, one he had trained himself to listen for. (To the point of hearing it when it wasn’t there.) This time, however, he was sure. Quinntus felt a happy lurch in his stomach, and he jumped off the bed, sliding to his doorway. “Fenris?” He felt a bit like a Mabari kept too long from his master. He smiled broadly, when he saw Fenris on the landing. “Welcome! Welcome!” He had to quell the instinct to rush up to the elf and smother him in a crushing embrace. He was still respectful of Fenris’s traditional boundaries at all times, although he hoped to change some of those with time.

Fenris felt his breath catch in his throat. Hawke was wearing his hair down. It was a sight Fenris still had not become entirely accustomed to. There was something intimate about being allowed to see Quinntus like this—vulnerable, no facade. He cleared his throat. “Hawke, I… is this a bad time?”

Hawke smiled wryly, “Not anymore.” He dragged his fingers through his dark red hair a bit self-consciously, trying to tame its wild appearance. He dropped the teasing tone however and spoke a bit more seriously next, “It’s never a bad time for you to come over here. I want you to treat this place as if it belongs to you. You’re free to come and go.” Even as he said the last part, Quinn’s eyes were pleading softly. Please don’t go, is what they said. Hawke still feared that Fenris might change his mind… or worse, that this was all a dream and he’d emerge from the Fade having never reconciled with Fenris at all.

“That is… good to hear.” Fenris relaxed his posture, put at ease by Quinn’s words and the sincere, inviting look in those green eyes. He was not imposing, after all. He reached around and removed his sword, the corners of his mouth quirking up when he contemplated the dramatic disparity in their respective attire. “It would seem I am overdressed.”

Quinntus’s green eyes took on a hint of wickedness. “That, I would venture to say, is nearly always true. However, it would be unseemly if the Champion never left his bedroom.” He reached forward and placed his hand lightly around the red scarf on Fenris’s wrist. Then he started to walk backward, guiding the elf into his room.

Fenris followed eagerly. As soon as he crossed the threshold, he found he couldn’t wait another moment, not when he was on the receiving end of such a look, Quinntus’s lips curving into a mischievous smile. Fenris been thinking about that mouth all day. He reached out and laced gauntleted fingers through Hawke’s long soft hair, taking care not to scratch or pull, then drew him into a kiss.

Quinntus made a soft noise of appreciation, and one of his hands started to slide into the opening of Fenris’s doublet. It was his favorite part of Fenris’s attire, that long and narrow slit. It was like a doorway, or an alley that just begged to be entered. (And just like the best doorways and side streets Hawke explored, it was filled with treasure.) Quinntus drew his mouth away after several moments, brushing their lips together afterward, “I’m sorry I didn’t bring you with me to meet the Knight-Commander earlier… but her messenger insisted I go right away, no side trips.” Which had been completely unreasonable, in Hawke’s mind. Fenris didn’t live that far away from him! (Although he hadn’t wanted to bring attention to his loved one’s presence in the old manor, either.) His fingertips beneath the cloth lightly traced over cinnamon skin, occasionally tracing the edge of a lyrium brand. Quinntus’s other hand, so skilled when it came to picking locks, was fumbling with the latch on Fenris’s belt. But then, it was hard to think, while kissing Fenris.

Fenris shivered at the almost electric sensation of Quinntus’s fingertips against his bare skin, and he heard a low growl escape his throat. Responding so pleasurably to touch was still a novel experience, and at moments such as this Fenris thought he might never get enough of it. He could not help smirking at Quinntus battling with his complicated belt. Fenris briefly considered lending assistance, but decided against it. He was enjoying the sensations caused by the struggle entirely too much. Instead, he extricated his hands from Hawke’s hair and allowed them drift slowly downward, gently caressing the sides of his face before moving lower, exploring the muscular contours of the rogue’s upper body. “Did you encounter any difficulty with the Knight-Commander? What did she wish of you?”

Hawke was the one who shivered next, when Fenris’s fingertips traced over his skin through the thin silk. He let a small half-smile adorn his lips, “Oh you know, it’s just the usual. No one in Kirkwall can scratch their arse without consulting the Champion.” His fingers at last found success and the thick belt fell to the ground with a quiet ‘thump.’ “I thought about telling her I have better things to do, but somehow I didn’t think my excuse would reach her round little ears.” Quinntus reached up to brush his fingers along the underside of Fenris’s ear. It was the ghost of a touch, his calloused fingertips lighter than a feather. He’d always been a bit of an elf fancier, and that had only increased after meeting Fenris. With reluctance, he pulled his hand out of Fenris’s shirt, so that he could start working on the fastenings in the front. Quinntus was amazed this shirt was still intact. He couldn’t remember how they had gotten it off so quickly the other night.

“If you require my assistance with Meredith, say the word and it is done. I… wish to remain at your side. Should you need me.” The slightest touch of Quinntus’s fingertips against his ear sent ripples of pleasure through Fenris’s entire body. Fenris could not prevent the strangled he made in response. He still marveled at the way Quinntus had managed to discover his sensitive ears so quickly, and how adeptly he’d figured out the precise amount of pressure needed to drive Fenris mad. When Quinntus reached the point of undressing him in earnest, Fenris became aware of a different sort of imbalance. “Hmm. It would appear that you are the overdressed one now.” He snaked his hands around to the front of Hawke’s finery, lightly raking fingertips down his chest before unfastening the golden clasp on the front.

Quinntus smiled, and let Fenris undo the cord holding his robe together. “If I’d known you were coming, I wouldn’t have bothered putting anything on.” His thirst for Fenris’s body was keen and rather unquenchable. Understandable, given the circumstances. He let his hand travel forward and pet the inner thigh of Fenris’s smooth leggings. By Andraste’s ass, he was perfect. And Quinntus frequently told him so. “Maker, Fenris—push me down on the bed already!” It suddenly felt like a lifetime had passed since their last coupling, and Hawke was desperate, as if three years had come and gone again in the space of one night.

Fenris did not need to be told twice. He parted Quinntus’s robe swiftly, allowing himself only an instant to revel in the bare skin and gorgeous, toned muscles that were exposed. He fervently craved contact, to taste and touch every single inch of his lover. Some unidentifiable warmth washed over him at that particular thought, more than just raw desire. Hawke was his lover now. Like freedom, that was a foreign concept that he still couldn’t fully grasp. But Fenris did know he wanted this… wanted Hawke, desperately, more than anything. He met Quinntus’s lips with a rough, possessive kiss before pushing him back onto the bed and pinning him to the mattress.

The rogue let his legs thread between Fenris’s, brushing their thighs together. He wondered, if Fenris would insist on keeping the red favor on tonight as well. The thought caused him to smile briefly into the kiss. Each time they’d made love so far, the elf had taken a moment—sometimes no more than a few seconds—to ensure that the red favor was tied securely around his arm, gauntlets fully off or no. Hawke let his fingers creep between them, under the hem of Fenris’s shirt to work at the laces holding up his leggings. He loved every part of the elf, but he had always been an admirer of legs, and Fenris’s were absolutely perfect. Lean and muscular, even his knees were attractive! Quinntus let his mouth fall open beneath Fenris’s, a silent invitation to explore, should he want to.

Fenris deepened their kiss, his tongue probing the soft heat of his lover’s mouth. He savored the distinctive taste of Quinntus, slightly sweet and utterly intoxicating. After a few moments, he pulled back, taking a hint front Quinntus’s lingering attention to his waistband. He swiftly wriggling out of his leggings. He looked down at the gorgeous man beneath him, sprawled out on the bed so invitingly, and swallowed hard. Instinctively, his fingers flew to his wrist, to tighten the red fabric there. That was his tether to Hawke, to the reality of all this, and by extension, to some sort of hope for the future. He found himself overwhelmed by arousal and a need to explore Quinntus. All of him. “Undress for me.” The urgent request came out sounding husky and commanding, and Fenris hoped he would not be offended by such a forceful display.

Hawke merely suppressed a shiver, and pushed himself up to his elbows. He reached down and removed his slippers, reaching for his own leggings next. Pinstripes pooled at his ankles before he let them slide off his feet. Next were his smalls, a tight, leather Antivan affair that needed to be unlaced before it could slide off his hips. Quinnus pushed them down his legs, revealing a small thatch of reddish hair just above his length, which was already erect, and quite grateful to be free from its leather prison. “Fenris, have I ever told you how sinfully amazing your voice is?” He lay back against his sheets, carefree and casually displaying himself for the elf.

Fenris let his eyes dance over every inch of naked skin and felt a dizzying rush of blood to his groin. The sight of Quinntus, naked and willing, was like a banquet laid out before a beggar, and Fenris scarcely knew where to begin. He leaned down and pressed against Hawke, his nerve-endings prickling with heat as their bodies aligned and his exposed markings came into contact with so much bare flesh. He kissed a path along Quinntus’s neck, sucking, licking and lightly grazing with his teeth. He grabbed Quinntus’s hair with one hand and pulled him even closer, so he could murmur directly against his ear. “You… enjoy my voice, then?”

Quinntus shuddered and he could feel a throb in his cock, with that velvety voice right against his ear. A moan escaped his throat. He loved the feel of Fenris’s hand fisted in his hair. His hands were securely placed on his partner’s slender waist, fingers lightly teasing the spaces between markings. “Fenris… your voice… it’s… You don’t know how it sustained me… these years…” Fantasies of that voice, and hearing it every day had kept his desire for Fenris very much alive. Not that it was a difficult task, but it had certainly made things easier. He wanted more of this… more of Fenris taking control, Fenris /knowing/ that it was his place to do what he wanted with him! That the red-head would do anything, anything Fenris wished of him.

“Mmm.” Fenris couldn’t help grinding into Quinntus at those words, his straining erection pressing hard against the rogue’s thigh. The confirmation that Quinntus had desired him during the years that they were apart, sent a thrill through him. He trailed hot open-mouthed kisses along Hawke’s neck again, before directing them lower, down to his collarbone, his sternum, his chest. Fenris let his tongue flicker teasingly over a nipple before gazing up into Quinntus’s heavy-lidded green eyes and offering a quiet confession. “It was your… touch that kept me going. Were you aware? The slightest accidental brush of your fingers, even through my armor, and the memory of your touch that night would come rushing back.” He desperately wanted that touch again, now, wanted to feel Quinntus’s hands and mouth all over his body. He grappled for the words to ask for what he wanted, or for the nerve to simply take it.

Quinntus unsuccessfully fought another moan, a brief thrill of dizziness going through him at this new knowledge. He hadn’t known that at all. He was glad of it, however, and he lifted one hand, cupping one of Fenris’s thin cheeks, then he lifted his hand, brushing his thumb along the shell of one long elven ear. His other hand was now resting in the small of Fenris’s back, fingers lightly tracing over the spine in small circles. Despite the tender touch, his next words were vulgar and and obscene, “Fenris, I want you to fuck me through the mattress tonight.. I want all our neighbors here in Hightown to know your name.” There was still a touch of warmth to his voice, even as he spoke his unceasing desires, “You are going to use me until I break. Every part of me.” Quinn’s eyes were warm and bright, like pale grapes that made the Orlesian wine Fenris was so fond of. “And you won’t let me cum until I’ve begged you for it.” He trailed his fingers along Fenris’s ear again with a coy smile. He always knew how to get an idea across.

“Yes, I will.” Fenris groaned and his cock twitched at the cascade of filthy words falling from Quinntus’s lips. The thought of having unrestrained access to that gorgeous body, of being permitted to take and give pleasure as he wished, was almost too much to bear. He regarded Quinntus with a hungry, feral grin, then threaded his fingers through Quinntus’s hair again, more roughly this time, yanking him closer. Fenris breathed against his lips. “I enjoy hearing you beg and scream my name. But first, I want to have you in my mouth. Because you are mine, and mine alone to savor. I intend to tease you until you are pleading for me to take you.” With that, Fenris kissed and nibbled a path down Quinntus’s chest and abdomen, then lower, until he was hovering directly above Quinntus’s cock. He exhaled a warm breath and licked his lips, looking up expectantly.

Quinntus’s eyes had gone dark, and he dragged his teeth across his lower lip. He smiled coyly, his eyes twinkling for a moment. A touch of eagerness crept into his voice, even as he tried to appear calm and detached. (As detached as one could be with a raging erection.) “Wanting me to beg already?” He would do it too, if he had to. Quinntus was utterly shameless when it came to the bedroom. (And he enjoyed giving power to Fenris, who was already so dangerous and strong. It made things more arousing.) “I am aching for you, Fenris,” his voice was a little more serious, yet not quite begging. Clear fluid was already gathering at the tip of his erection. He wiggled his hips a bit, trying to entice Fenris to use those lips.

Fenris felt a jolt directly to his own cock. It was a heady, unparalleled sensation, being wanted like this, being granted such control over Quinntus. He tore his gaze away from his lover’s mesmerizing smile and stared at the impressive erection before him. He was aching to taste, to tease, suck. Circling his fingers lightly around the base, he licked a slow, wet stripe up the underside of Quinntus’s cock, before wrapping his lips around it and taking just the tip into his mouth. His tongue flickered and swirled over the head, lapping up the pre-cum that had gathered there. The taste made him moan softly. He began to suck gently, his wet lips forming a seal around just the tip, at first. Then, he dipped slightly lower, slowly taking in about an inch of Quinntus.

Hawke let out a sharp, “Fuck!” More than anything, he wanted to move his hips forward, but he knew better. His hands clenched into the sheets fiercely, and briefly Quinntus wondered how, in Andraste’s name, he could hold off cumming until Fenris was ready to fuck him. He was ready to start pleading and begging. He tried to hold off on that too. Instead he focused on encouraging his partner, “Ah..! Yes! Fenris…” Quinntus let a very colorful Orlesian phrase pass his lips, one of many Sister Leliana had taught him. It sounded a bit clumsy with his Fereldan accent, but Hawke wasn’t really thinking about language right now. “Your mouth is—” He paused to groan, “Maker it’s perfect.”

Fenris growled, deep and low in his throat at Hawke’s reaction. He loved having him this way. But after a few moments, any wild ideas of teasing Quinntus like this for hours, keeping him on the brink of pleasure until he could no longer stand it, began to fall by the wayside. Fenris was achingly hard now, his neglected cock screaming for attention. He needed to be inside Hawke, surrounded by that tight heat, watching those pretty lips cry out for release and those stunning eyes glaze over with ecstasy. And he needed it soon. Finally giving over to his own impatience, Fenris relaxed his throat and sank down lower, taking Quinntus in inch by inch until his nose was pressed against the curly, dark red hairs at the base of his cock. Deftly, he began to move his fingers and mouth in unison, gliding smoothly up and down Hawke’s shaft. Fenris wondered if perhaps this would be enough to drive Quinntus to begging, or if the man possessed vastly more self-control than he himself did.

Fortunately for Fenris, Quinntus had been having similar thoughts, and he was whimpering now, stumbling over his words. Perhaps someday, they would be able to have long and leisurely lovemaking sessions, but not now. Not until they had exhausted the pent up energy three years apart had built up. It was all he could do to keep his hips from thrusting forward rudely. Quinntus whined in his throat, and he tried to beg aloud, very little in the way of actual sentences leaving his mouth. Instead all he could utter was ‘please’ and ‘Fenris’ and a few strange phrases that were neither quite Orlesian or Ferelden, but a mixture of both. Someday, perhaps, Quinntus might be able to hold off of begging for more than five minutes, but not today. And even that long felt like eternity.

Fenris realized that the incoherent babbling and broken noises coming from Quinntus might be near to begging as he would manage. Hearing his own name interspersed with rest of that desperate jumble—he thought he heard Orlesian!—was incredibly erotic, and Fenris couldn’t hold out an instant longer. He lifted off Quinntus’s cock with a final lick and gazed up at him, breathing jagged, half-lidded and bleary eyed with desire. A part of him hoped Quinntus could not see how truly unraveled with desire he’d become, another part of him did not care. He could barely summon enough words to form a full sentence. “Want you. Now. Need… something… slick.”

Hawke shuddered, and reached up, hand searching under the pillows for a glass vial which had seen quite a bit of use lately. His hand wrapped around the vessel and he smiled, pulling it out. It was a mixture of flax and rose oil. The smell was rather nice as a consequence. Hawke had his friend Lady Elegant mix it up for him, and she had asked no questions when he asked her if she could make it in quantity. He passed the bottle to Fenris, eyes dark with hunger. His breathing was shallow and light now, anticipation all but consuming him. He was resting on his hands, legs spread, silently questioning his partner on what position Fenris wanted to take him in.

Fenris accepted the vial and opened it, willing his trembling hands to steady themselves long enough to accomplish what was necessary. He was particularly susceptible to sense-memory triggers, and Hawke’s rose oil had become his favorite of late. As he poured some onto his fingers, the sweet fragrance hit his nostrils and flashes of their last several encounters flooded his mind. He knew, without a doubt, that would never again smell so much as a single rose without becoming instantly hard. Fenris took his oil slick fingers and wrapped them around his own cock, giving two thorough strokes to coat himself in the excess oil. He looked down at Quinntus and guessed at the question evident in his expression. “On your back tonight… I wish to look upon your face.”

Quinn smiled and settled down onto his back as he was told. His hands slid underneath his tailbone, then he seemed to think better of it, and grabbed a pillow, shoving it under his hips instead. He waited impatiently for Fenris to finish preparing himself, “Hurry… You have no idea how much I need you.” A brief feeling of giddiness alighted in his chest, and he couldn’t contain his smile.

Fenris watched Quinntus position himself, with that eager smile, and he could feel his heart catch in this throat. It was Quinn who had no idea how much Fenris needed him. Ordinarily he might spend additional time stretching, using fingers to prepare Hawke, but he sensed that they were both past that point now. Fenris positioned himself between Quinntus’s legs, the head of his slick cock nestled against the tightly puckered opening. He planted a quick, frantic kiss on Quinntus’s mouth. “Tell me what you want. I wish to hear you say it.”

“Fuck me, fuck me, hard.” He loved this man, he really did. He reached down and used his hands to spread himself, swallowing audibly. He loved this part the most, when Fenris made him beg for it. “Please,” he breathed softly, “I need your cock up my ass right now, Fenris.” Quinntus was quite sure that his neighbors really would know Fenris’s name soon, and he almost grinned at the thought. However, he was too busy looking pathetic and needy to think about his neighbors for more than a scant moment. And he was needy.

Maker, Quinntus was almost getting too good at begging. This part made Fenris come undone every time, tonight moreso than usual. Quinn’s cries nearly sent him over the edge, and he hadn’t even been touched. Fenris forcefully gripped and squeezed the base of his cock to keep control. As he gazed into Quinntus’s eyes, Fenris slowly and carefully pushed himself inside that tiny ring of muscle, an inch at a time. He closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath at the overwhelming sensation. It was exquisitely tight, and hot, and it was entirely Hawke. Once he was completely inside, Fenris opened his eyes again and looked down at his lover. He began moving, rocking his hips slowly at first, but quickly picking up the pace, fucking Quinn hard and fast—just the way he liked it. In the back of his mind, there were so many things Fenris wished he could say to Quinntus in that moment. He wanted to tell him how amazing it felt to be inside his body, how beautiful he looked, and above all, how much he loved him. But he struggled with those words at the best of times, and now he could barely think straight. All he managed was to rasp out, “Hawke—”

Hawke’s arms gripped him tight, hands clamped on his shoulders. He heard all the things Fenris wanted to say in his name. He let his head fall back, and he started to moan in earnest. Quinntus moved his hips in tandem with his elven lover’s, gasping whenever the spot inside him was hit. His calloused fingertips were mapping out the elf’s back, coming to fiercely grip his love’s waist. Hawke opened hazy eyes to look at his warrior, his love. The next thrust broke his eye contact and he cried aloud, Fenris’s name tacked on at the end. Hawke began to get louder, crying out with soft sounds and fervent curses. It was a wonder, really, that Aveline hadn’t come and arrested the two of them for disturbing the peace. (Although throwing both of them in a cell together probably wouldn’t be the best course of action in that regard.) Quinntus’s hips bucked wildly, of their own accord, and he begged Fenris to cum inside him, to fill him with seed. Utterly, utterly shameless.

Fenris fleetingly considered placing a hand over his Quinntus’s mouth to muffle the increasingly loud noises emanating from him, but he was too busy reveling in them. Each sound sent tendrils of heat through him, and at the present, he cared not whether all of Hightown became aware of their intimate activities. Fenris was so close to the edge, he could feel the ecstasy pooling and building within. This would never do. He reached a slicked hand between their bodies and began to stroke Quinntus’s cock. Both of them were breathing in jagged, uneven gasps, and Fenris hoped Quinn was getting close. “You first. Want to… feel your release while I am still inside you. Cum for me.”

Hawke cried out, and he shuddered strongly at that command. He could probably cum off of that voice alone, but the slick hand certainly helped too. He couldn’t possibly resist both. No one could think of him as being less of a man for climaxing so quickly. He cried out in a wordless yell, when his cock twitched and his balls tightened. White streamed out of his hardness, it was a bit unfair, Quinntus thought briefly as white dazzled his eyes. He’d wanted Fenris to crest first. His fingernails created tiny crescent-shaped indentations in the elf’s skin while he rode out the shudders of his orgasm.