Dragon Age II, Part 1: Closed for Prompts, Open for Fills
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"My mother did this when I was learning to read," Hawke said quietly, stroking his bare fingers over the backs of Fenris' armored ones -- in only one direction, of course, else the armor would have sliced his skin wide open. "It was distracting at first, but it became soothing after a while. I think it was just the repetition, but it's worth trying now, don't you think?"
The elf very nearly fidgeted in place, his free hand lingering near the wine, then drifting to re-open the book. It was doubtful he could feel much of the stroking through his armor, but even the light pressure upon the different plates had to be... something, over and over again. The mage's other fingers were curled only lightly over the side of his hand to support it; Fenris could pull away easily if he truly felt that he had to. Was it pride that kept him in place, or did it truly help even a little?
Fenris cleared his throat, and set back to work on the book. Business as usual, minus the constant soothing petting to an armored hand...
Eventually, a far-off bell rang the hour in which they usually stopped their lessons, and Fenris gently closed the book once again. The fingers of his captured hand gave a faint, unconscious twitch, as though the elf only now remembered where it was. "Hawke, I..."
"Do not worry, Fenris, if I was free to do as I wished right now I would ask to sip wine from your palm. But I won't," Hawke calmly watched the other man, slowly turning his prize over once more so that the lyrium-striped patch of bare skin faced up again. The statement made Fenris shift in his seat, his expression strangely unreadable. "May I settle for a single kiss to it, instead?" Hawke asked, deciding to push his luck just that last little bit further.
"You are a very strange man, Hawke," Fenris noted, watching him. It didn't sound like a 'no', and so Hawke gingerly lifted the captured hand and pressed a soft kiss to the exposed skin at its center, shutting his eyes for a moment as a sharp metal fingertip grazed accidentally against his eyelid.
"Yes, well," Hawke's smile was real when he lowered and then released Fenris' hand a long moment later, which was warily reclaimed by the elf. The mage reached up and wiped the thin trace of blood from his eyelid with his thumb, unconcerned. He glanced at the smear of red and chuckled, licking it from the pad and catching Fenris' stare as he did so. "Just look at the company I keep."
"I can't deny the truth of that," Fenris leaned away a little, closing the book again with his regained hand, his gaze fixating on the appendage for a moment. Hawke wondered if even such a simple gesture had caused pain beyond the surface, and pushed his chair back, standing to leave.
"I'll bring you another book next time," he said quietly, "perhaps something about a band of mismatched misfits getting into trouble. There are a lot of those..."
Fenris surprised him by offering one of his faint smiles in return, angling his head to look up at him from where he remained seated, folding his hands together neatly out of the way. "I... think I would like that. Thank you, Hawke."
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I adore how warm and intimate the scene feels. Lovely work!
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