Chapter Text
Anders yawned and stretched, feeling better than he had in weeks. That had been a good dream about Marian coming back and -
“Morning,” Hawke greeted him sleepily. “Well, actually it’s - I don’t even know.”
He scooted backward to press against her warmth. “Thank the Maker, I thought I’d dreamed you being back.”
She kissed his shoulder. “Well, you did fall asleep almost instantly.”
Anders’ heart sank. Some partner he was, getting carted across half of Kirkwall and crashing out in her bed with barely a kiss. “Sorry for the shit date.”
“Babe, I’m not mad.” She pulled the covers back up then slid a hand down to his waist. “I fell asleep too. Just woke up a little bit ago. And this -” she patted his belly “- needs some proper dinner, before this -” she squeezed his ass “- gets a proper wearing, possibly like a hat.” She rubbed her nose behind his ear. “Plus we both need a wash. Orana left food by the door.”
How could he argue with that? He turned over in her arms to press a kiss to her forehead. “In a minute, love. Just let me hold you.”
She chuckled softly and tightened her arms around him. “You can have all the minutes you want.” They stayed entwined in the bed until someone’s stomach started to protest, then she squeezed him once more and sat up. Anders rolled to his back to better admire her as she slipped off the bed and padded over to the door.
“That’s a new - a pretty big new - scar,” he said softly, then winced. Marian wasn’t much of a healer, and pointing that out always made him feel like an asshole.
Hawke looked down at the shiny puckered skin running from her chest down to her hip. “Wyvern spit. Also fire.” She listened to make sure no one was outside to be scandalized by her nakedness, then opened the door and grabbed their dinner. Even with a lid on, the smell wafted tantalizingly in Anders’ direction. When was the last time he’d eaten more than a few random mouthfuls of bread between patients? Probably the day after Hawke had left.
Marian plopped the tray at the end of the bed as the other mage sat up and touched the burn. “You didn’t mention fire.”
“Kind-of a given though, right? You go out, you do stupid shit, someone or something always ends up on fire.” She shrugged as she dropped the lid on the footboard, picked up the loaf of bread, tore a chunk off, and handed it over.
He frowned as he chewed. “Marian.”
“It’s already done, babe.” She shook her head. “Look, I wasn’t not telling you, I just didn’t get around to mentioning it. I just wanted you, Anders, looking at me and missing me, not the healer poking and fluttering about shit that can’t be fixed.” She gave him a crooked smile and traced a hand over some of his own old injuries. “Besides, scars are sexy.”
He gave her a smile he didn’t feel and leaned forward to pick up one of the bowls of food. “Sometimes.”
“Hey,” she said gently. “They are. They mean you survived.” She picked up his hand to kiss it. “And I like you alive. Finish eating so you can stay that way.”
They finished their meal in companionable silence, both too hungry to do anything but eat now that they’d started. Marian licked her bowl clean, making sinful noises as she did so, while waggling her eyebrows at Anders suggestively. He snickered softly. “You can just say you want to have some wild sex until the bed breaks again, you know.”
“What if I don’t though?” she asked playfully.
Anders furrowed his brow. “Then we don’t. You know that’s not why I love you, we could never do anything like that again and I’d still -”
She pounced, knocking the bowl to the floor. “What if I don’t want to have wild sex that breaks the bed?” she purred against his throat. “What if I want a different kind of sex entirely?”
“I - Hawke, unless you’re going to tie me up or bleed me, you know I’m up for it,” he said. Literally up for it, he thought as his arousal pressed against her hip. And she was too, if what he felt against his own thigh was any indicator.
Marian kissed his throat delicately, then climbed over him to stand up while she scooped him into her arms. She was so strong, nearly as strong as some of the Wardens back at Vigil’s Keep, and while today had been the first time she swung him around like this publicly, it was a common enough occurrence in private, and one he never got tired of. Anders went delightedly limp in her arms, only bothering to hold his head up so he could nuzzle at her chest. She tightened her grip and hummed in appreciation, then headed to the bathing room. “Let’s get cleaned up so we can get dirty again,” she murmured into his hair, making him shiver.
Maker, he’d missed her so much. Anders nodded enthusiastically against her as she turned the faucet on with a tiny wave of force magic. It was an absolutely gratuitous and unnecessary use of power that just made him love her all the more, and not least because it meant she could sit on the edge of the bath and cover his collarbones in kisses while the water filled up. The stubble rasped and tickled but it was just another part of Marian that he loved, proof that she was real and not some temptation of the Fade. A demon with a beard would look ridiculous; well, perhaps a desire demon, they were the most human-looking, but pride demons were too scaly, and rage demons-
A chortling snicker erupted from him, making Hawke look up at him curiously. “Ticklish today?”
“No, I was - okay, hear me out,” he gasped. “A rage demon,” was a far as he got before the giggles overtook him again.
Marion arched an eyebrow. “That’s it?”
“No, no, I’m not done - wearing a - with a flaming mustache.”
“Oooh, I should get some on a stick and pass them out when we’re unearthing the next round of eldritch horrors!” She chuckled. “Might throw them off enough that we can get a few more surprise attacks in.” She leaned back slightly and let go of his legs. “Water’s perfect. Join me?” She didn’t wait for an answer as she spun around on the rim and slipped down in the tub, back against the wall, and the other mage sitting between her splayed legs.
He groaned his pleasure as she scratched at his scalp with one hand. “I missed this,” he whispered.
“I’m sure Orana or Sandal would be happy to -”
He splashed some water back towards her face. “You know what I mean, love.”
She hugged him tightly, with arms and legs, squeezing so hard he thought he might burst. What a fantastic way to go, though. “Don’t let me leave again,” she muttered. “I hated it, I hated not seeing you, I hated worrying about you, I hated not having a proper fucking healer or a proper healer to f-”
Anders twisted around to straddle her, kissing her almost feverishly and rocking his hips against hers. It wasn’t enough, but it was more than either of them had had in weeks, and she whined into his mouth greedily before grabbing his waist and holding him still. “Marian, I - please, let me take care of you,” he begged.
“Clean up first,” she said firmly, handing him a washrag and soap. She submerged entirely as he lathered himself up, then plucked the soap from his hands to scrub it in her hair with a contented sigh. “Orlesian baths have all these fancy oils and shit, but the tubs are too damn small. Not that I really saw my room much, what with all the death and dismemberment.”
He made a disgusted noise. “You’ll have to tell me what actually happened, in order, at some point. Not just a list of grievous bodily injuries.”
“Maybe so, but not right now.” She smeared bubbles across his face. He puffed them away with mock irritation and leaned back to wet his hair, which, naturally, she used as an opportunity to tweak his nipples, making him jerk in surprise and getting water in his nose. “I hated not doing this too.”
He tried to glare at her, but the twitching of his arousal against her arm threw any semblance of annoyance right out the window. “I thought we were washing up, love.”
“I’m done, you’re being too slow,” she batted at him playfully, making Anders almost swallow his tongue.
“Soap and sex don’t mix,” he reminded her. Again. She sighed and leaned back, crossing her arms behind her head as she watched him. It wasn’t bloody fair the way she looked at him and expected him to just . . . just finish bathing? When she was right there, naked and wanting and waiting? “I’m clean enough,” he muttered, tossing the soap somewhere behind him and lunging for her lips. She sat barely fast enough to catch and pull him flush against her chest, opening her mouth to his tongue as they rocked against each other. At some point, she wrapped his legs around her waist, still kissing him, then climbed out, gripping his ass firmly with a promise of things to come. Another bit of gratuitous magic dried them off, then she was carrying him to the bed to deposit him on the pillows.
She dragged her tongue down his chest, pausing to kiss each nipple, then palming him almost unbearably gently as she nuzzled at the top of his thigh. He started to protest, started to say he didn’t need her mouth on him, didn’t want her so far away, but then her lips were around him and Maker, she cared so much that it burned like a fire in his chest, made him wish he could ever be as good as she believed him to be, here she was, barely back from Orlais after Maker knew what had happened, and she carried him home, fed him, bathed him and now was sucking his fucking cock like it was iced cream and then she did that thing with magic and her tongue that he could never quite figure out and his gasping for air as orgasm hit him harder than a bronto, knocking the breath out of him and leaving twitching as she licked him clean with a wickedly pleased twinkle in her eyes.
"Can I - Marian, would you let me put my mouth on you?" he asked breathlessly, hips still twitching from the aftershocks of pleasure. She usually liked it, but he'd learned over the years that it was always better to ask.
She grinned and nodded, biting at his thigh teasingly. "Just don't finish me off, Warden. I know exactly where I want to come, and it's not in your mouth, however pretty it might be, for unlike some people in this house, I can't manage a round two."
They traded positions lazily, all tangled limbs and kisses, until finally Anders was between her legs, nuzzling and breathing in that perfect scent of sweat and musk and Hawke, his Marian, his home, his love. He took his time reacquainting himself with her belly, her hips, her thighs, licking and sucking at each new scar he found, until finally, after he'd silently apologized to every inch of her skin that he hadn't been there to heal it, he swallowed her down. The taste was exquisite, and he moaned around her as he closed his eyes to better focus on the pulsing against his tongue, the feeling of her fingers digging into his scalp, and the sound of her needy gasp as he bobbed on her gently.
Too soon, all too soon, she was tugging him off of her and up into a ragged sloppy kiss, hands squeezing his ass and sliding between his legs, fingers probing tenderly. "Grease," she mumbled against his lips. "Need to be inside you."
“It’s not like you can’t cast it yourself,” he chuckled against her throat as he conjured it up and reached back to let her grab some.
She rubbed against him gently, taking her time in the best and worst possible way. “Yours is better.” As she slipped a finger inside him, he leaned forward to kiss her again before thrusting back, trying to get her in further. “Now, now, don’t be greedy,” she chided. “I’d hate to have to stop entirely because someone won’t let me be certain they’re ready.”
“I’m always ready for you, love.”
“Your head says yes, but your ass says not yet,” she retorted, pressing a second finger inside and he hissed in surprise as he had to agree she had a point: it had been a while, since he didn’t find anything but her satisfying enough to be worth the effort. “You’re okay, babe,” she whispered, almost apologetically, and pulled her fingers out for a bit more of the grease that was still in his palm.
“More than okay,” he murmured back as he draped himself over her chest and focused on just enjoying the feel of her chest rising and falling against his, the warmth of her breath on his ear, and the slow languid thrusts of her fingers inside him. He wanted to press back into her, to fill himself up to the brim with her, but at the same time, he wanted to just lay there and hope her lazy fingering never ended. At least, that was until a third finger joined in the party. He clawed at the sheets and fought to stay still, to not slam backward onto her hand in desperate need to get her to touch the spot that would send lightning up his spine. Sometimes literally, if she was feeling particularly naughty.
Hawke brushed it gently, making his nerves tingle, and laughed softly as he whined into her skin. “I’ve got you, babe,” she cooed at him, sliding her fingers out and helping him sit up. “You’re home now, and I love you.”
He felt what he really wanted, what he’d been thinking about since the moment she surprised him in the clinic, pressing against him, and he reached down to make sure everything was lined up properly before he started to sink down onto her. They probably should’ve done a bit more stretching, but he didn’t care, he needed it and he needed it now.
"I love you, too," he whispered. "I love you, I love this, I love-"
Marian thrust up into him, hitting that sweet spot perfectly, and he lurched forward with a delighted moan that she swallowed up with a kiss before tugging his hips down flush with hers. "Less undying declarations, more sex," she demanded.
He’d give the Champion of Kirkwall anything in his power, so if she wanted sex, then by Andraste’s fiery tits, she would fucking get it. He bounced above her hard and fast, and she rose up to meet him on every stroke. And sure, he was a Warden, could go for hours if he needed to, but she was Marian, and when she grabbed him and squeezed, he knew what she wanted, so he didn’t try to hold back, didn’t want to hold back, just thrust back and forth, filled with her, surrounded by her, spilling all over her as she spend herself in him with a hoarse moan, then falling sideways, squelching together in the best and most disgusting of ways as he pulled her with him, kissing her face over and over. “I’m here, and you’re home.”