Dragon Age II, Part 1: Closed for Prompts, Open for Fills
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"Are you sure about this, Hawke?" Fenris gasped out as Hawke began stripping his armor off him with nimble, strong fingers that were already learning their way around hidden buckles and buttons. The mage nipped sharply at the elf's bottom lip, baring the other man's torso and running his hands boldly over the lyrium-marked skin. A scrape of short, dull nails had Fenris arching back against the wall, a gleam of... of something lighting in his large green eyes. Resentment? Anger? Passion? All of the above, with a mage roughly handling his markings in such a way?
"Absolutely sure," Hawke growled his response, and was pleased to be shoved back by the former slave, hard enough to make him stumble several steps away before the lithe elf closed the distance again, pushing even more. The backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed, and Hawke collapsed onto his back in a tangle of half-undone robes and the sound of tearing fabric. Fenris was on him in a heartbeat, ripping more fabric from him until he was bare in the shreds of what had been a pretty nice robe, but he hardly cared right now. Thin red lines crossed his skin where the sharp tips of Fenris' gauntlets had sliced him lightly.
"I could -- I likely will hurt you," Fenris warned, deep and low, following Hawke as the mage pushed himself the rest of the way onto the bed, up towards the pillows. The warrior kept pace perfectly, looming over him on hands and knees, still half-dressed and still with that look in his eyes.
"I'm a healer," the human reached for the nightstand, retrieving oil set out for this very purpose. "Just don't do anything I can't fix, that's my only request. Otherwise, maim away."
"Do you mean that?" his head was lowered, the elf looking at him from just under his brow and through the curtain of his hair, utterly predatory. Hawke had seen this posture before, usually just before someone had a hand punched through their body. His heart pounded furiously.
"I said I wanted it rough, didn't I?" Hawke lifted his hips from the bed, twisting oiled fingers into himself clumsily. He'd done this to other men before, but never himself; he'd never been on the... receiving end before. "You know you're looking for a chance to hurt a mage. I volunteer."
"I..." Fenris sat up onto his heels, his expression changing quickly. "That's not... I don't want to hurt you, Hawke."
"Then don't," the mage gasped, finding the swelling bump inside, twisting his body to try to find a better angle to reach it, his thighs spread wide. The show he was putting on... "I've never been fucked before, Fenris. I'd like you to do it. To do me. Straight into the mattress. If you won't, I'll just -- hnrgh -- go out and find someone who will." It was a bluff, but only by a thin margin, and Fenris' eyes fixed on Hawke's fingers as they scissored within him; roamed over the mage's painfully-hard cock...
A decision seemed to be made right around when Hawke started moaning Fenris' name, and his free hand began lightly touching himself in more visible locations. Tweaking a nipple here, scraping over his stomach -- crossing the thin red lines Fenris had left -- gripping and stroking himself beneath the elf's intent gaze...
Fenris stripped the rest of his armor off, and then pulled Hawke's hands away from himself with a warning growl deep in his throat. "Tell me how much you want it, Hawke. I want to hear it."
Hawke twisted under Fenris until he was on his stomach, and pressed his ass up and back against the elf, grinding hard. "Come on Fenris," the human's usually-smooth voice held a touch of growl itself, just now, "don't you want to pound a nice tight mage into the bed? Pin me under you and just fuck me? Let go. I know how strong you are, and I can feel how thick you are. I want it so bad I may burst just talking about it."
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"Fenris!" Hawke gasped, clawing at the bedding beneath them, shoving back hard enough to almost unbalance the man leaning over his back. "You son of a bitch, fuck me!" The desperation in his voice was raw even to his own ears, and it earned him a broken moan from above. Fenris gripped his hips hard enough that the bones in his hands probably creaked, the other man bowing low over Hawke's back until his hair brushed the mage's shoulderblades.
Mercifully, one hand pried free, and his hips pulled back from the insistent press of Hawke's ass.
Feeling the tip of him nudge at this entrance made the fereldan nearly sob with relief, and he reached back with both hands -- leaving his chest and the side of his face to support him -- and spread himself open for Fenris to impale. The warrior growled low at the sight, and pressed forward, and Hawke felt the resistance, the pulling... the sharp almost-burn...
As soon as that flared head was squeezed past the tightest ring of muscle, Hawke bucked backwards. There was pain, but the stretching, grinding rub within was everything he'd hoped for, and he didn't stop pushing back until Fenris was buried to the root, shaking above him and clutching at his hips as though for support.
"Fenris..." Hawke growled, when Fenris didn't move for a long moment. The elf took a deep breath, withdrew partially, and then slammed back home.
The mage dropped his hands back onto the bedding, grabbing fistfulls of the blankets for support, and rocked his hips back to meet Fenris on the next thrust inward, ripping a startled moan from the other man. It occurred to Hawke dimly in the back of his mind that this had to be the first time Fenris had taken anyone, but he shoved the thought aside as irrelevant to the moment and strained against the strong elf, meeting force with force.
Fenris' hand fisted in his hair and yanked Hawke's head back, the sharp jerk barely even noticed in the heat of the moment. The elf was so damn strong... strong enough to stand between Hawke and dragons, and giant stone abominations, and even other mages. Strong enough to whip a two-handed weapon around as though it was a dagger, to charge forward with speed that defied his very build...
Hawke's eyes rolled back, and the jerking, pushing, shoving, burning and stretching and grinding only grew more intense, focusing to a single point--
He couldn't remember the noises either of them made in the end. There was growling, snarling, incoherent sounds and the slap of flesh on flesh, and Hawke dimly noted the ripping sound of a chunk of his hair coming free of his scalp, but it didn't matter. The world flooded with white light, his body locking around the emptying weight inside...
Everything slowed down, then sped back up, and Hawke lay panting desperately for breath beneath a collapsed Fenris. His limbs, when he straightened them, shook violently with the effort.
"...That..." Fenris sounded hoarse, even as he gasped for breath. Had he yelled? Hawke couldn't even piece it together.
"Talk later," Hawke managed to get out between painful sucks of air, "rest now."
The grunt from the back of his shoulder sounded like agreement.
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