Archive of Our Own ^beta

Their room at Skyhold could most generously be described as, well, a room, but it was theirs. It had a bed that wasn't a roll, a roof that, while perhaps not the most structurally sound, wasn't canvass, and for the first time since Kirkwall they were on the run from no one in particular - well, almost no one in particular.

They were safe. Her and Anders both. Safer than perhaps they had ever been. Truthfully, Kirkwall was a blip - Hawke had never expected more than a life on the run - apostates, both, and fugitives to boot. They weren't made to set roots. They'd find home only in each other, she'd thought.

But here they were, still reeling from the conversation they had just had with Trevelyan. Trevelyan, who made the mages her allies. Trevelyan,  who was a mage and who led an army. And now, Trevelyan, who has offered her love a pardon. Freedom, for her, for Anders, just on the horizon. Or as near it as two apostates could hope to find.

For now, they were here - with their bed and their roof - at least until Corypheus was dealt with. It was hard to get her head around. 

Anders hopped up on the rickety desk in the corner of the room - a risky proposition, Hawke thought, but, fuck it, she's a healer - and propped her feet up on the chair. Smiling - truly smiling - for the first time in a long while. 

A deep sigh, a shuddering breath thick with the tension that she knew that Anders had held for as long as Hawke had known her.

"I don't even know what to do with myself after that", she laughed. 

"Hmmm," Hawke smiled, sauntering across the room and pushing aside the chair to stand between Anders legs. "I can think of a few things, at least. We have to make this room ours after all." 

Anders leaned forward, taking Hawke's face in her hands and smiling into her kiss. Hawke deepened the kiss, threading her fingers through Anders long, silky copper hair, pulling at the red ribbon that held it back, releasing her hair to tumble over her shoulders. She ran her hands down Anders neck, across her broad shoulders, before again capturing her face in her hands  - softer now than it had been when they met, glowing, actually -  my one bright light, she thinks. She kissed her again, relishing in the softness of her lips. 

She pulled Anders tunic up over her head, and leaned down to kiss the bare expanse of her chest. Her soft, round breasts. Her  soft belly. Soft soft soft, she thought, running her hand along the curve of her waist before dropping to her knees. 

Anders breath hitched. Hawke looked up to see a flush spread along her chest, her neck,  her cheeks,  desire written on Anders' striking, angular face. She grinned up at her, teeth flashing white, looking altogether too proud. 

"Cocky," Anders laughed, with that lopsided smile. 

Grinning, she set to work on her boots. Rough worn leather. The same since Kirkwall. Patched and repatched. She pulled them off her feet, kissing the top of her foot and eliciting a giggle before she stood again and moved to her trousers. She loosened the tie and resisted -  barely - the urge to slide her hand between her thighs and feel her arousal. She knew what she wanted. 

"Hmm, your turn," Anders said, naked now, pink and flush, leaning back on her hands against the desk -  and starting slightly at the creak of the wood. She made no move to help - she wanted to watch. Hawke obliged. She didn't take her time. 

Taking Anders by both hands, she walked backwards towards the bed. Gently, playfully, Anders pushed her onto the bed, which, disturbingly, released a cloud of white dust on impact. They paused, looking at each other, Anders' eyebrow cocked. Hawke shrugged and leaned up to kiss her. 

They kissed slowly, touched meaningfully, running their hands over each other. They had walls - honest to God walls - for the first time in at least a minute, and they were going to take advantage of them. Their love making - and it was that, Hawke thought - was slower now, less frantic. In Kirkwall, and for a long time on the run afterwards, everything felt so immediate. Fear made everything desperate. Now, after years of learning each other's bodies - and, more recently, relearning Anders body together - they knew how to find release in each other. They knew what they liked and didn't. And now, they were safe, they had time, and they intended to take it.

Anders hovered over Hawke, her hair a curtain around Hawke's face. She pushed Hawkes legs apart with her knee, and Hawke ground into her, her breath growing heavy and heated, joining Anders own. She could feel how wet she was against Anders' thigh, and she could feel how hard Anders was against hers. They moved together, and Hawke thought of waves crashing against a shore. It was almost too much - almost. 

Hawke grabbed Anders by the hips, turning her, forcefully, onto her back. Anders took her breast in her mouth, sliding her hand down Hawke's body and between her legs, touching her so lightly it was maddening, pausing for a moment before sliding her fingers between her legs, feeling her. She was slick and wet, and Anders let out a low moan before slipping two fingers inside of her. Hawke ground down onto her hand, whimpering. Actually whimpering. If it wasn't Anders, she would possibly feel embarrassed, she thought distantly, but as it was, well, she had heard all her desperate noises.  

Anders removed her hand and Hawke felt bereft, making a low moan of frustration before Anders pushed her away and onto her back, parting her legs with her thigh again in one swift motion before leaning down to kiss her. Hawke arched into the kiss, moaning into her mouth. Anders smiled into the kiss before kissing her down the long column of her neck, her breasts, her belly, before bringing her mouth her her cunt.  

She lapped at her clit, sucked, nipped, before slipping her fingers inside of her once again. 

"Fuck", Hawke moaned, as she felt Anders crook her fingers, pressing into her, her tounge unrelenting. Her pleasure flooded outwards from the core of her, tingling through her fingers, her toes. Clenching, releasing, her hands knotting in the sheets. A tension spreading through her, pulled taut like the string of a bow, shuddering with unreleased energy, braced through ever cell and every muscle. It was all too much. It really was. She couldn't think, she couldn't breathe 

She felt Anders pull on the fade and her fingers, her tounge, pulsed with electricity, a jolt through her body, and this was enough to push Hawke over the edge. The bow string released. The energy of it coursing her though her. Her thighs clenched around Anders head as he fucked her through it, her cunt pulsing around her fingers, her back arching off the dusty mattress

"Heh uhh" she groaned, throwing her head back, her hand threading through Anders' hair, before collapsing back into the bed. Boneless.  

Anders looked from between her thighs, face wet and slick, hair and absolute mess, that lopsided, shit eating grin plastered over her face. 

Hawke pulled her back up, capturing her lips and smiling into the kiss

"Who's cocky now?" She laughed, before turning her onto her back. They had time.