Eftersom jag tydligen bara kan skriva när jag sitter på café här nere, och eftersom jag blev utmanad att skriva fan-fiction kommer här ett litet smakprov på inledningen till sommarens projekt - "Dragon Age 2" slash. NSFW!

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-Hawke, what are you doing?

Fenris twitched and started to withdraw, his face shifting from curious to wary as if waiting for darkspawn to appear from under the bed he had suddenly found himself sharing with an apostate mage, and a famous one, no less! 

It had all happened too fast for him to truly realize what was going on until it was too late, as the dissapointing hunt for Danarius lead from one ill-advised expedition to another, subtly bringing him closer to the man whose life he seemed to have become part of.

Hawke had the decency to at least try to look guilty, although he knew that the subtle glow of magic left in his eyes was a dead give-away. He had way too much fun exploring the limits of Fenris´  trust in him.

 - What? The mighty warrior afraid of a few sparks, is he?  Fenris... i never thought I´d see the day a mere touch would have you jump like one of Anders´s  stray cats when the darktown beggars are hungry.

 - Don´t mention that madman to distract me, Hawke.You know full well what I think of your... gifts, no matter my feelings for -you-.

Hawke smiled mischievously, one corner of his mouth twitching with barely suppresed laughter.

He loved the former slave beside him, dark moods and strange sense of humor all, and a sidelong glance down the elfs body, the lyrium brandings still glowing faintly across lean muscles under a faint sheen of sweat, suddenly made his heart miss a beat.

 Him; Champion of Kirkwall, Slayer of Qunari, Friend of Apostates and whatever else was still scrawled of the walls around town despite Avelines best efforts to stop it, rendered almost speechless by the visage of his lover beside him.The scars of countless battles really just heigthened the perfection of the rest, he thought, conjuring the slightest hint of power to his fingers while letting his right hand glide slowly across an old sword wound low on Fenris´ belly.

A sharp intake of breath, hands grasping bedsheets, knuckles white from tension,  and the elf was  yet again bathed in the radiance of his brandings as the lyrium burned into his flesh reacted to the magic in Hawkes touch, just as he himself reacted to the very precence of the man beside him.

Human and elf. Warrior and mage. Runaway slave and fugitive apostate.

Lovers.

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