[[Backthreading nsfw romantic history post for
birdhousesoul. Set not long after they hook up, before All That Remains]]
Hawke falls back on the bed, sweat sticking her hair to her forehead, skin flushed. It's the middle of the night, but the fire in the fireplace still burns enough to cast more light than shadows on her skin, and on the skin of the man next to her. "That was amazing." Still breathing hard, she smiles brilliantly at him, then decides that's not enough and rolls towards him for another kiss. She can't seem to stop kissing him now that she's finally able to. Not that she's tried hard to resist the urge for the past...week, maybe two weeks? It seems longer, and not long enough. "Andraste's flaming pyre, Anders, where'd you learn to do all this?"
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Hawke falls back on the bed, sweat sticking her hair to her forehead, skin flushed. It's the middle of the night, but the fire in the fireplace still burns enough to cast more light than shadows on her skin, and on the skin of the man next to her. "That was amazing." Still breathing hard, she smiles brilliantly at him, then decides that's not enough and rolls towards him for another kiss. She can't seem to stop kissing him now that she's finally able to. Not that she's tried hard to resist the urge for the past...week, maybe two weeks? It seems longer, and not long enough. "Andraste's flaming pyre, Anders, where'd you learn to do all this?"
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Date: 2012-01-07 12:20 pm (UTC)From:That hadn't been on her mind at the particular moment in question, however; it'd been a long day of wandering the Wounded Coast accomplishing various tasks, and she'd run into a cave and found a nest of giant spiders. She hated those things. Not for their own sake but because they were so blighted messy when they died. Hawke wasn't one to fear a mess, but there were limits. She'd left the cave cursing under her breath and found a spring, intending to at least get the blood off her face and hands. Since she'd been on her own, she'd stripped to the waist as well. It'd been hot, and her armor was chaffing.
It was around that point she'd realized she was being watched. She hadn't needed to turn around; Anders was nothing special when it came to sneaking, which was one way she'd known it was him. Merrill could move as silently as any Dalish, and Fenris in his bare feet was almost as good, whoever it was wasn't attacking her and had no air of antagonism. It could only have been Anders. But she'd known from other things. The way Teo, spread flat like a mabari-pancake on the ground some feet away, twitched an ear but didn't otherwise react. The faintest sound of an indrawn breath, Maker, she could recognize him from his breathing, that was one of the things that had told her how far gone she was.
Anders, who'd said over and over that he couldn't be with her, no matter how much either of them might want it, hiding and watching her sitting topless by a stream and splashing water on her face and chest.
It'd been an oddly vulnerable moment. Hawke wasn't used to feeling vulnerable, in any context.
So she'd courted it. Stood, stripped off the rest of her armor and clothes. Not artfully, because if she made too much of a show of it he might realize she knew he was there and run off. Stepped into the stream, shivering at the cold of it, which did feel wonderful in the afternoon heat, and washing off sweat and grime felt even better. And clearly, her shivering had had nothing whatever to do with wondering what might be going through Anders' head, if he liked what he saw. Nothing to do with being a bit flushed, a bit breathless, a bit tempted to look his way and see if she could catch his gaze. A bit tempted to run over to the rock and push him against it, see if he was still able to resist her when she was wet and naked and pressed against him.
She'd sat down in the slow-running water, only a foot or so deep. Stretched out, splashed water over herself and ran hands over her skin to make sure everywhere got attention. Lay down and let her head go back, rolled over. Again, not too much, not too overt. Not too sexual or suggestive, even though she was trembling, because it was still one of the most erotic things she'd ever done in its way, for all that it was understated. Exquisite in its unacknowledged intimacy. She'd been watched while bathing before, not just as a child but as a soldier, when privacy was impossible and chances to get clean were too few and far between to not grab when you could. It hadn't been like this. Not at all like this.