Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Everything had happened in one continuous blur. Frenzied and frantic, the natural progression indecipherable amidst the weight of two hands roaming her back, fingers skimming almost teasingly on her buttocks, before traveling the full length of her spine.

Fenris.

His hands. The spikes of his gauntlets catching on the fabric of her red house robe.

His lips moving against hers when she wasn’t otherwise busy brushing her lips against his neck, the need to taste his skin greater than she had ever imagined.

His breath panting near her ear as he alternated between craning his neck to give her more access, and nuzzling his chin against her, wanting to nudge her lips back to his to resume the pleasant dance their mouths had engaged in.

Her hands pressed firmly on the wall she had practically thrown him at, trapping him against her.

Trapped.

Her body held him pinned, able only to take the lustful assault she was carrying out.

Maker, no!

This was the furthest possibility from Katrina Hawke’s mind when she first found Fenris sitting in the front foyer of her mansion mere minutes before.

It was late. Katrina was the only one still awake in the house, and she had simply planned on latching the lock on the front door for the night when she saw him sitting there waiting for her.

Katrina didn’t need to wonder how he’d found himself in her home. The front door was often left unlocked throughout the day, allowing her companions free entry to her abode at near all hours without having to force any of it’s occupants to answer a knock at the door anytime Isabela wanted to “borrow” a bottle of wine from the Hawke family cellar, or Aveline wanted to visit Leandra (or more like check on Katrina), or Anders sneakily stuffing his manifesto into all of the bookshelves (much to Katrina’s chagrin), or Merril whenever she wanted to visit Katrina’s mabari or her more recent attempts to talk the newest member of the Hawke household, Orana, into visiting the alienage to try and live her life as the free elf Katrina hoped she realized she now was.

No, there being a visitor waiting for her in her home wasn’t what surprised Katrina. Though, the late hour and the individual in question did catch her off guard.

Katrina simply came to a stop once she found him, unsure what else to do or say. It had been two weeks since he angrily stalked away from her in the slavers’ cave after killing Hadriana. Two weeks since Fenris had venomously spat the evils of magic, and what hadn’t it touched that it hadn’t spoiled. Two weeks of Katrina quietly giving him space while nursing the hurt she felt after their last interaction.

Katrina had thought Fenris had somewhat made some sort of peace with her being a mage in the three years they’d known one another. The first year of their friendship was peppered with him not so subtlety watching her, assessing whether she could be trusted or was no different than that which he had escaped from. Regardless of their differing opinions being a source of discontent between them, Fenris had still somehow grown to trust her. Or so Katrina thought.

They had had their friendly conversations—and even playfully flirted—in his dingy mansion, but the illusion of camaraderie cracked for Katrina when Fenris first honestly thought she intended to keep Orana as a slave when she told the young frightened girl to go to her estate, only quickly acknowledging his mistake upon hearing Katrina’s intentions, and then seemed to include Katrina in his railing against mages and magic.

And thus, after two weeks of Katrina wondering if they ever truly were—or could be—friends, she wanted him to be the first to break the silence. She braced herself for the possibility of Fenris voicing her morose thoughts, putting weight to her fears by telling her he no longer wished to associate with her, while also hoping for him to say something, anything, to tell her that was the last thing on his mind.

“I’ve been thinking about what happened with Hadriana,” Fenris spoke after a few seconds that felt like a lifetime, drawing himself up from the wooden bench he had been sitting on. His eyes didn’t meet Katrina’s at first as he closed some of the distance between them, causing a fear to rise from deep within Katrina’s gut for a moment. “You and I don’t always see eye to eye, that doesn’t mean you deserved my anger,” Fenris continued, his gaze finally meeting hers and chasing away the fear. “I owe you an apology.” At those words, Katrina’s mind rejoiced even though her expression remained still. As much as Fenris seemed keen to let bygones be bygones, she was still hurt and unsure.

“I had no idea where you went, I was concerned,” she finally spoke, hoping to lob some guilt towards the repentant elf. In truth though, after a few days she hadn’t needed to worry. Yes, she was at first concerned for his safety when he didn’t return to Kirkwall even hours after she and arrived back in the city with Varric and Anders, and she was practically convinced he had been ambushed by more of his former master’s mercenaries while all alone and defenseless brooding away from her on the Wounded Coast, before being assured of his safety by their mutual friends. Varric and Aveline had informed her he had been keeping himself busy taking jobs around the city; a delivery here, a clearing out thieves from merchant’s stall there, and according to Sebastian, he’d even found time to sit in reflection in the Chantry (although Katrina had had her doubts about that piece of information). Yet at no point did Fenris come to her. Although, the same could’ve been said about her not taking the short walk from her mansion to his some evening and seeking him out, but Katrina wasn’t about to concede what little high ground she had by admitting her own fault in their fortnight of avoiding one another.

Fenris didn’t give much of an explanation to his distance, simply stating he needed to be alone before launching into a justification for killing Hadriana. For some reason, Katrina felt herself grow frustrated at this. Maybe because it brought back the whole ordeal in crystal clarity, or maybe Katrina felt affronted that he was more concerned with justifying his killing of Hadriana than addressing the venom with which he had spat his condemnation of all mages right in her face as if specifically cursing her very existence. Either way, it stoked Katrina’s ire to the point of charging into a verbal sparring match with Fenris when perhaps she should’ve been understanding.

They argued. She judged him for seeking revenge instead of some sort of solace or closure in the form of the family Hadriana had revealed to him, he angrily defending his actions and incredulously asking if she expected he forgive all that had been done to him.

“You may not wear chains anymore, but you’re not free,” Katrina laid the low blow with an even tone. A part of her regretted the words as she spoke them, but she stubbornly refused to take them back.

“You know nothing of being a slave!” Fenris snapped, his voice thick with fury. He looked down at himself, as if taking stock of the animal that had been made of him. “It’s a sickness, this hate. This dark growth inside of me that I can’t ever get rid of, and they put it there!” The self loathing in his tone was enough to crack Katrina’s stubborn resolve and let the regret flow in. Here he was, reaching out to her, searching for....redemption? Understanding? And all Katrina could do was attack him, because of what? Her selfish need to have her hurt feelings mollified?

Before Katrina could open her mouth to apologize, to beg his forgiveness for her lack of compassion, Fenris was stepping away with a sad sigh.

“This isn’t what I came here for,” he lamented as he turned towards the door.

“So you’re just going to leave?” Katrina demanded as she reached out to stop him, her voice sharper and the grip she lay on his arm fiercer than what she had intended.

And then the blur took its first steps.

Fenris rounded on her, his lyrium markings shining blue with fury. His hands clamped down on her arms with near bruising force has he charged, shoved, until he had slammed her against the nearest wall.

Katrina’s back making rough contact with the hard surface pushed the breath out of her lungs in a startled choked gasp. Her throat felt tight and dry as she stared up into his smoldering gaze, frozen in place by his eyes and the feel of his thumbs digging into the flesh of her arms.

The sensible portion of Katrina’s mind told her she should be afraid. She should fear that at any second one of his hands would release her before quickly finding a new home through her chest. But she wasn’t. She was...many things. The dark gaze he fixed her with, the force with which he held her against the wall, his body so close she could feel his body heat hitting her in a most peculiar way. She was surprised, enthralled, and shockingly, aroused.

This was hardly the first time Katrina and Fenris had found themselves in such close proximity, or even touching. Fighting off bandits, slavers, darkspawn, undead, or even the occasional giant spiders side by side, every so often one of them placing a steadying hand on the other’s arm or back to help them stay in the fray had never rendered Katrina in the state she currently found herself.

She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t felt an attraction to Fenris. Even she could admit, even if only privately in her own quiet thoughts, that she’d been under his spell from the moment she saw him, even if only moments later he revealed to have only used her as a distraction in the trap set for him.

But Katrina had shoved her attraction to Fenris away. Deep down she knew, given his past, there could be no way he’d ever look at a mage romantically. She was lucky to get an—albeit at times contentious and rife with differing of opinions—friendship from him. He may have called her beautiful, and even flirted right back at her whenever she shamelessly alluded to wanting more than a platonic relationship with him, but Katrina had managed to convince herself that had just been him being kind, or rolling with a playful conversation. Even when his voice had taken a low suggestive tone as he told her she was unlike any woman he’d ever met and mused whether a physical relationship with her would be....pleasurable? Katrina had dared hope to infer, she had taken his brushing it aside with the promise of perhaps at another time as a kind rebuff of her affections. And yet now, all those feelings Katrina had kept at bay flooded her, drowning her senses as the warmth from Fenris glowing markings overwhelmed her.

It took only moment for Fenris to return to his senses and take stock of what he had just done. He had attacked Katrina. His friend. One of the exceedingly few people he could trust. Someone he cared for, deeply. He valued her presence in his life more than he could ever say, and yet here he was, no doubt putting the fear of a painful death in her.

With a shaky breath, Fenris calmed himself, forcing his markings to return to dormancy as shame and regret spread across his face. He released her, his mouth shakily moving as he tried to sputter out an apology, only to be cut off before he could make a single sound.

Fenris had been the only thing keeping Katrina rooted against the wall. The literal force of him holding her there, and the way his hot gaze stunned her, were all that kept her body from sinking into the desires that he had just reignited. Without either of those things, his hands moving off of her arms and his gaze shifting away in horror as he went to back away, there was nothing keeping her back and now it being her turn to give him a surprise.

Fenris barely had time to react to the first touch of her lips on his before he was now the one pinned against the wall. The sensation of her eager lips crashing into his was enough to force himself out of whatever shock their reversal had put him in as his mouth met the fervor of hers.

Unfortunately, Katrina’s mind began to work as frantically as her lips seemed to be in their searching for any form of contact to Fenris. She hadn’t just thrown herself at him, she had forcibly pounced on her unsuspecting friend. Her unsuspecting friend who’d lived a life of being victim to others forcing their will upon him.

Fenris had never gone into great detail of his life in slavery, and Katrina had never wanted to hurt him by trying to prod him for any information he didn’t divulge freely. But now, with great horror, Katrina couldn’t help but wonder how much of the hate festering inside of him for Hadriana, Danarius, and any other evil creature that may have touched him, stemmed from moments like this. A body shoving him into submission as it writhed against him, lips claiming his and leaving him with the choice to either force himself into numb complacency or play along for fear of punishment. Katrina could feel the disgust mounting and rising inside of her, bile threatening to poison her throat.

“No!” She let out a chocked groan as she wretched herself away from him, her body shaking. She quickly took several steps back, trembling hands running through her dark hair as she breathed heavily.

In all of Katrina’s hysterics, she failed to notice how Fenris’s body had nearly lunged towards her as she pulled away. She didn’t see his lips trying to chase after hers, or feel his hands briefly tighten on her back in hopes to keep her close.

“I...” Katrina began, her voice tight as she turned away from him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have...” She tried to speak again, her voice coming out in breathy spurts around the heart hammering in her chest. She closed her eyes and took in a long breath, attempting to calm herself through sheer force of will. Once she managed to do so, she slowly turned back towards him, and had to swallow down the bile that threatened to now invade her mouth.

Fenris stood right where she had left him, staring at her with a mix of bewilderment, and the hurt of rejection. Katrina was perhaps a little to quick to let her mind compare it to the look Orana would give her whenever she’d try to gently desuade her from using the phrase “mistress” in addressing her, or in anyway behaving as a slave.

Orana would look at Katrina positively beside herself with the belief she’d displeased her new master, making Katrina need to quickly reassure her of all her wonderful virtues as she encouraged the girl to, if she simply had to address her by some honorific, follow Bodahn’s example of a simple “messere”. And now, to Katrina, the look Fenris was currently giving her smacked of that same fear and disappointment.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her throat tight. “I never meant to...”

“Hawke,” Fenris spoke, finally moving away from the wall to take a step towards him. Katrina practically leapt backwards to maintain distance between them.

“You should go,” she breathed out, only to be struck with the fear that it sounded like she was trying to give him an order. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head to clear that horror from her mind. “If you want!” She quickly added, almost too loudly. She took in a deep breath through her nose and opened her eyes back up. She saw the rejection had slid off of his face, which was a comfort at least, even if his current expression wasn’t much of a help.

His eyes were narrowed and his lips were pressed together in a firm line. Katrina felt her heart break at his glare. The spell, the regression into his old life, was broken and he no doubt now despised her for putting him back in such a horrid place. The thought that in her foolish grab for something more from him, she had now lost his friendship—lost him—completely, chilled her.

“We can just.....pretend this never happened,” she found herself saying, begging for some forgiveness. Fenris’s glare seemed to only intensify at that. “....please don’t hate me,” she pleaded in a tiny voice before quickly scurrying past him through the mansion and up to her room.

Chapter Text

Katrina sat at the foot of her bed, her mind replaying what had transpired. She had forced herself on Fenris. There was no other way around it. He had come to her house seeking to make amends, and not only had she verbally attacked him, she’d gone even further by physically attacking her friend.

If he even was that anymore, a dark thought floated through her mind.

Of course he wasn’t, she ruefully told herself. She was lucky he hadn’t strangled the life out of her after what she had done. She certainly deserved no less.

“Hawke,” a voice from the other side of her closed bedroom door shook her out of her thoughts. Katrina sat up straight, her body growing rigid at the sound. Perhaps she had considered herself lucky too soon.

She stared at the door for a few minutes, unable to find any words or actions to go with from there. “Hawke,” the voice spoke again, more insistent. Still Katrina did not move from the bed. She nervously crossed her legs and chewed on her thumbnail, uncertain as to why Fenris was even still in the house, let alone standing outside her bedroom. “Hawke,” the third time her name came from him in what sounded very close to a frustrated growl. Fenris was clearly upset, Katrina noted, although she wondered if the fact he hadn’t just kicked down her door and burst in as a sign he probably wasn’t still hanging around to cause her harm.

“J...just a moment,” Katrina finally spoke, swallowing around the anxious knot that had formed in her throat. She carefully, slower than perhaps may have been necessary, uncrossed her legs and slid off her bed. She was practically gnawing on her thumbnail as she grew closer to the door. She reached her free hand to her door knob yet for some reason couldn’t stretch the final inch to actually touch it. She wasn’t sure what awaited her at the other side. Of course she knew Fenris was there waiting for her to open the door; it was more she was terrified what awaited past, or through, him. More arguing? A declaration that she was lower than scum, and he never wanted to see her again?

“I heard your footsteps,” Fenris’s impatient voice spoke, pulling her from her thoughts and pointing out that she’d been standing at the door with her hand barely touching the knob for at least a minute.

“It’s not locked,” she blurted out almost the moment the thought skittered across her brain. She had meant to apologize, or repeat her earlier “just a moment”, but the realization that he could’ve just walked in at any moment during all of this nudged ahead. Again she wondered if the civility of waiting for an invitation pointed to a good omen.

“A slave does not usually enter their master’s quarters uninvited,” he practically sneered; his tone was low, clipped, angry.

“What?!” Katrina cried out shrilly, shock pushing her to grip the doorknob and yank her door open to face him. In the back of her mind she was momentarily grateful that her mother had chosen that night to visit Uncle Gamlen, staying in Lowtown until morning, and the servants quarters were at the other side of the mansion. She wasn’t sure she needed Bodahn, Sandal, or Orana showing up right then. Rex, her mabari, must’ve been spending the night curled up by Sandal’s room, otherwise Katrina’s high pitched exclamation would’ve sent the canine howling, she theorized.

In the now opened doorway, Fenris stood glaring at her. Aside from his narrowed eyes, his expression was stony and hard to read.

“That wasn’t....I’m not...You’re....-“ Sentence fragments sputtered out of Katrina’s mouth, her eyes wide as she grappled for something she could possibly do or say to fix this. She had an urge to run away, but such a hope was impossible to realize with she and Fenris standing in a stalemate: she standing in the inside of her doorway, effectively blocking his entry; and he standing right in front of her, blocking her exit. The thought of shutting the door in his face to keep him at bay did cross Katrina’s mind, but she could only manage to nervously grip and release the knob at her side a few times. “Why would you...why would you even say that?”

“You said it yourself,” Fenris spoke, his jaw tight. “I am not free.”

“That’s not-“ Katrina’s protest was cut off by Fenris, no longer content to continue this conversation standing outside her room, pushed in through the doorway. Katrina once again practically leapt backwards at the shock of him suddenly breaching her personal space. It was enough to allow him full entry into the bedroom, as well as the ability to close the door shut behind him.

“And to then treat me like some powerless, subservient....beast,” Fenris continued, his tone a low snarl as he stepped towards her. Katrina couldn’t help notice the irony of him practically stalking towards her like she was his prey, all while accusing her of treating him like some animal.

“I’m sorry,” Katrina babbled, words tumbling past her lips in a desperate attempt to....appease him? Salvage what scraps of friendship could be saved? Plead for clemency should he want to exact his well deserved revenge on what she had done to him? “I don’t know what came over me,” she went on, her eyes darting every which way that wasn’t towards him as she fretfully rubbed at her forehead, “not that that’s an excuse, I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...” her voice trailed off as her brain faltered for a moment. “I didn’t mean to hurt you or-or....make you feel....like I had any right to do that. Because I don’t, I know that. You’re not anyone’s slave, least of all mine,” she practically shuddered around those words and at the mere thought she could ever own him like property. Like he’d been owned in the past. “I didn’t mean to break you or...” Katrina’s voice trailed off as she finally noticed Fenris had continued to advance towards her in all her rambling, yet again invading her personal space as he stood close enough to touch, his eyes burning into her like two molten emeralds, his nostrils flaring with fury.

“You think you’ve broken me?” He asked.

“No! Maker, no! I-eep!” Her words were cut off into an undignified squeak as Fenris, as if anticipating her making an attempt to move away from him, grabbed her bent arm at the wrist and pulled her towards him. She barely had time to regain her footing as she stumbled forward, before Fenris spun them and in a flash Katrina felt herself be slammed against her bedroom door, her body immobile between the wood surface and Fenris. He kept a tight hold on the wrist he had used to catch her, trapping it between their two bodies, while his other hand came to grip her neck. Not tight enough to choke her—though Katrina wondered how long she could say that—but enough to keep her still and exude his dominance.

“Never say that again,” he lowly growled. His voice, the feel of his chest rumbling against hers, the thought of him being so close, brought on a surprising reaction to Katrina’s body....specifically her southern regions.

This is it, she told herself. He is going to kill me, and I’m getting turned on?! She mentally chastised herself.

As Katrina squeezed her eyes shut, wincing at whatever came next, her mind briefly floated to just a week prior. It was late, much like it was now, and she was sharing drinks and laughs in The Hanged Man with Isabela after the pirate had offered her assistance at finding Katrina singlehandedly dealing with one of the group of thugs that roamed the city streets late at night. Once the two women had dispatched of the miscreants, Isabela had thrown an arm around Katrina’s shoulders.

“Come on, Hawke, you can buy me a drink,” she had said. As they drank and shared bawdy banter, Katrina had made some joke about her preferred way to die would be while pressed up against a handsome man, to which Isabela had cackled. “Here, here!” She said, clinking her glass against Katrina’s.

This wasn’t exactly what Katrina had had in mind.

Chapter Text

Katrina’s heart hammered violently, her chest rapidly stuttering as she tried—and failed—to regulate her breathing. Fenris had her pinned beneath him against her bedroom door, one hand clamped on her wrist holding it tight in the space their stomachs otherwise would’ve joined and mashed together in their position, and the other placed at her throat with his thumb pressed against her pulse point. Katrina had no doubt he could feel her pulse’s frantic beats against the pad of that thumb. 

Katrina’s only free hand lay limply at her side, unsure of what else to do in this moment. She could’ve fought him off; if a firm shove wasn’t enough, then surely a dose of magic would aide her. She knew this, but couldn’t bring herself to lash out. All she could do was press her head back against the door to gain at least some distance from the feel of his breath against her face, her head turned and eyes squeezed shut as she awaited for whatever reprisal he felt justified in dealing out. 

“Is that how you see me?” Fenris demanded, his voice still in the low growl that continued to have such an odd effect on her, filling her with both fear and need. 

“Fenris, I’m sorry, I-“ again Katrina’s words cut off into a meek noise as Fenris managed to draw himself even closer to her, pressing his body into hers and so flush against the door at her back, she was standing on the balls of her feet with her heels elevated off the floor and against the door. 

“Stop. Apologizing.” Katrina couldn’t hold back the whimper that squeaked out of her. He was so close to her turned head, his nose at her temple and his demanding hiss hitting her ear directly. 

“Okay,” Katrina shakily breathed out, nodding her head against him. “I’m sor-“ she reflexively began, before catching herself. She felt him let out a frustrated breath against her ear, causing her body to strain as it attempted to react to the sensation but unable to move while trapped between Fenris and the door. Her free hand instinctively moved to the side of his waist to keep herself steady. If it wasn’t for Fenris holding her up, Katrina was certain she would’ve collapsed to her trembling knees. 

“Answer,” he spoke. 

“What?” Katrina distractedly murmurred, her head turning slightly towards him, as much as it could at least. Had he asked a question? She couldn’t even remember. 

“Is that how you see me?” He repeated his question. “Some weak slave, powerless to stop a mage from overpowering me?” The darkness in his tone was continuing to drive her mad, the need overshadowing the fear and causing a heady fog to roll in her brain. How ironic he would accuse her of thinking him powerless, when that was exactly what he had rendered her into becoming. 

“Uh-uh,” was all she could breath out, biting a corner of her lip to hold back a moan threatening to slip out of her. Regardless of how close he was, how sensual it felt, Katrina was still very aware of the hand on her neck. This was a predator holding his prey. How embarrassing would it be for the prey to start wantonly moaning like some bitch in heat? 

Even if that was exactly how she was feeling. This may not have been what she meant, when laughing and joking with Isabela as the warmth of ale filled her belly, but Maker was it ever close.

“Did you think the poor pathetic slave’s mind would regress to some perverse conditioning? Taking whatever abuse shoved upon him?” Fenris harshly asked. Katrina felt sick. Yes. Yes that was exactly the thought that had entered her mind. It was why she had been so desperate to stop herself, why she felt so ashamed. Why the shame was now mounting at how she was allowing herself to sink into arousal instead of contrition. 

“No....I swear,” she whispered. She swallowed thickly as she felt the thumb at her pulse point move. Fenris slid the digit against her skin, somehow—much to Katrina’s surprise—careful not to scrape the spikes of his gauntlet against her neck. She felt Fenris breathe out a long, almost calming breath against her ear, his body seeming to loosen and mold against hers. His nose rubbed against the side of her forehead, briefly skimming her hairline as if breathing in her scent completely.

What was his game? Katrina wondered. He was obviously angry with her, perhaps even enraged. She had seen him in battle, seen him in a blind fury as he fought would be slavers. Yet never had she witnessed him....toying with an enemy such as this. Perhaps his dangling of survival in front of Hadriana’s gaze before shoving his hand through her chest and snuffing out her life came close, but even so this felt different. 

“Then tell me,” he spoke, his voice seeming to shift from harsh to...almost husky, “why would you think I wouldn’t have stopped you, myself, if I had wanted to?” It took a moment for Fenris’s words to pierce through Katrina’s mental fog, and when they did, it was like a bucket of frigid water had been dumped on her. 

“What...?” She asked, utterly confused. Fenris had shifted back slightly to look at her. He watched as a mix of realization swirled with even more confusion clouded her features. Her eyes darted across the planes of his face, seeking some sort of answer. 

“Just like you haven’t tried to stop me, now,” Fenris continued, his eyes staring into hers knowingly as the thumb against her pulse moved to trace a line against her jaw. Katrina suddenly found herself wishing he had just impaled her chest with a glowing hand, to save her from her current mortification. He knew the effect he was having on her. Of course he did. He could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest against his own, the quiver in her legs, hear the little mewling sounds that had slipped out without her noticing. 

“You...” Katrina mumbled, her brain still stumbling to catch up amidst the whirl of emotions spinning inside of her. Her thoughts spun in a manic dance until one tumbled out of the fray: anger. 

“You son of a-....ass!” She hissed, finally regaining control of her body and using it against him. She wretched her wrist from his grasp and used now both free hands to shove him away from her. Fenris simply stepped back, allowing her her space. He truly had been seeking his revenge, only it hadn’t been by means of death or violence as she had thought, but through toying with her and slowly driving her into complete madness. “I thought...” She began, before shaking her head. Even though Fenris had stepped back, he was still closer than she currently was liking. She wanted to slip out from between him and the door, put some distance between them. Unfortunately she still felt weak in the knees from her previous intense arousal and could only manage to lower her heels back onto the floor, taking the pressure off of her straining calves. She blinked a few times in an effort to clear her head. “That was cruel,” she said. 

“Any crueler than your teasing?” Fenris countered. 

“That was a mistake! I-“ Katrina’s mouth snapped shut as his sentence fully played in her head. “Teasing?” She incredulously asked. “What in Andraste’s name is that supposed to mean?” Instead of answering, Fenris mouth turned down into a determined frown as he stepped back into her. Katrina tensed and went to move back, only to be reminded of the door at her back. 

With lightning swiftness, Fenris clasped her wrist yet again as he moved closer. Katrina attempted to pull her hand free to keep it from becoming trapped against their bellies as before, but Fenris surprised her by not simply holding her. He pulled her hand closer to him and brought it down past his abdomen. Katrina lowered her surprised gaze to observe what he was doing and watched as he guided her hand by the wrist. Past his armor. Under his tunic. To the front of his tight leggings. 

“Oh, Maker,” Katrina choked out at what awaited her there. Was this honestly happening? Was her palm truly currently pressed against-

“You kissed me,” Fenris said, causing Katrina’s gaze to shift back up to meet his. He held her sight with his own eyes for a moment before looking down at her mouth, a sound almost resembling a sigh passing through him as she unconsciously licked her lips. “And I enjoyed it,” he plainly stated. Katrina’s fingers twitched against him, her muscles seeming to startle and contract at his admission, inadvertently gripping the stiff appendage hidden in his pants. Fenris emitted a low growl at the sensation, his eyes drifting shut as he leaned forward into her touch until his forehead was resting against her own. 

“I..” Katrina croaked, her mouth and throat growing dry. She nervously cleared her throat. “So did I.” 

“Hmm,” Fenris almost purred, as if he was pleased by her stating that. Or perhaps it was due to her hand unconsciously giving his erection a single curious stroke. “Yet you pulled away, rather violently,” he pointed out. 

“I thought...” Katrina began, the fog rolling back into her brain making it hard to form words. 

“I’m aware of what you thought,” Fenris commented, rolling his hips to grind against her hand. “Clearly, you were mistaken,” his tone was almost cheeky as he used his hardness to emphasize his point. 

“Sweet Maker,” Katrina quietly moaned. 

“You pulled away, acted like it was a mistake,” Fenris continued to speak, his mouth so close to her that his lips brushed against her cheek as they formed his words, “made me feel like kissing me, being close to me, was abhorrent to you. That you didn’t want me.” 

“No,” Katrina lightly protested, a whole new batch of regret and shame flooding her. Had she truly made him feel that way? Did he really think, even for the briefest of moments, that that was why she pulled away? “That wasn’t...” Her sentence cut off as she felt Fenris release her wrist. For a moment she panicked that he was stopping....whatever it was that had begun. No, no, no! Her mind pleaded. 

Instead, he moved to press himself even deeper into her, his body moving in between the legs she didn’t even realize she’d parted. Katrina sucked in a shaky breath as she felt his hand at her hip before lightly ghosted down her robe. She sighed and threw her head back against the door the moment his fingers reached below her hem and touched the skin of her thigh. 

“And then you assumed all of that had been permissible only because you have control over me,” he said, a growl vibrating deep in his chest as in one swift, harsh and glorious movement, his hand went to the back of her knee. The metal of his gauntlet scraped against her skin as he quickly hitched her leg up, opening her up to him as he held her thigh up to his hip. Katrina gasped, her hands flying up into the white silk strands of his hair, clinging to the back of his head for dear life. Her free leg was straining at the other side of him, tensing to support her weight. 

“Fenris,” she moaned at the feel of his grip on her leg, her robe and the nightgown she wore underneath bunching at her waist, all of him pressed between her legs. He groaned and shifted at the sound of his name passing through her lips in such a way. He held her tighter, bringing her clothed mound in direct contact with his erection. “Oh Maker...” Katrina choked out, practically swooning at the feel of him against her. There had been a heat in her belly simmering since perhaps the moment he had gripped her arms, his markings glowing as he pushed her against the wall. Everything since him entering her bedroom had brought it to a boil and, now, with her leg wrapped around him and the only thing separating his hardness from her core being clothing, the heat had erupted into an all out wildfire. Katrina wondered if he could feel the moisture gathering in her knickers. Had it soaked through and dampen the front of his pants?

“Is that what you think?” Fenris spoke up, his voice husky with his own arousal. Katrina wanted to whine in protest at him asking her to think at a time like this. “That I am just a slave, with no choice but to be subject to your desires?” he murmured, his hips bucking against her running his length along her center. Katrina ground her hips against him, chasing the sweet friction between them. 

“No,” Katrina replied, gasping lightly as she felt him hike her body up against him, her free leg nearly dangling off of the floor, and brought his lips to her neck. “Certainly not anymore.” His touch, his length, and his lips currently nipping and sucking on her neck as their bodies continued to grind against each other had dissolved any question as to whether he had been a willing participant in their downstairs activity. 

“Good,” Fenris said, the lips against Katrina’s neck pulling back into a sort of smirk and grin hybrid before he continued kissing her skin. In any other circumstance, Katrina would surely have something smart to say about his cheeky attitude, but Fenris managing to use his deceptively well hidden strength to haul her free leg up to his hip and effectively lifting her up off the floor and wrapping her around himself completely shoved such thoughts right out of her mind.