Anders was complicated. Hawke knew this very well.
Constantly having to share your mental energy with a spirit of Justice could do that to a person.
Sometimes, that meant Anders had terrible days.
He became cold and introspective, staying in his clinic for days on end, consumed by the thoughts of anger and vengeance that raced through his mind. These were days that Hawke would bring him meals whenever she passed through Darktown, knowing that he sometimes forgot about his own needs when he became consumed by everything else.
She stopped by his clinic one afternoon to check on him, finding him frantically searching his cupboards and muttering to himself. Hawke leaned against his doorframe with a sad smile on her face as she watched him work. She wished Anders would let her in. She wanted to help in whatever way she could but he was determined to keep his struggles with justice to himself. After a few moments, she began to approach Anders slowly, unsure if he had been ignoring her presence or had just been so engrossed in his work that he genuinely had not heard her enter.
“Anders?” She said softly, resting a hand on his shoulder in what she hoped would be a comforting gesture. Anders tensed against her at first, but then relaxed, hanging his head and letting out an exhausted sigh. He brought his hand up to hers, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.
“Do you need anything?” She asked. Her eyes searched his for further signs of distress, but only found them dark with fatigue.
Anders shook his head and looked at her with a sad but grateful smile. He rested his hand on her lower back and pressed his lips to her forehead for a few sweet seconds, and Hawke relaxed into the kiss, relishing that precious moment for as long as she could. Sooner than she would have liked, Anders pulled away and continued doing whatever it was he had been doing before, so Hawke reluctantly turned to leave. She had experienced this enough to know that he would come around in a few days, but that didn’t stop her from missing him.
And then, sometimes, Anders would have wonderful days. Exquisite days that Marian Hawke would always keep close to her heart.
Days where he was unafraid to display all the parts of himself that Hawke loved so much. They would wake up in her bed, legs entwined under sheets and hands grazing over bare skin as the two of them took in the morning together. The sun’s rays would stream through her curtains, shrouding the room in golden light and giving a fiery glow to Anders’ hair as he lay back on the pillow. She would stroke her fingers along his chest as he kept a firm hand on her back, neither of them saying a word, but feeling the immense love flowing between them in breath, in heartbeats, in fingers sometimes stopping to tap absent-minded rhythms on their skin. It was the kind of morning Hawke never wanted to leave.
Anders gazed at her with that irresistible smirk of his tugging at his lips, and she smiled back, head propped up on his chest.
“Good morning,” Hawke whispered, as if speaking at full volume would ruin the blissful half-sleepiness they had woken up to.
“Good morning,” he whispered back, bringing her hand that was on his chest up to his lips and placing a tender kiss on her knuckles. “Sleep well?”
“Very well,” she replied as she rolled off of him to stretch her arms above her head. Anders propped himself up on his side to gaze at her in adoration, making note of her delicate yet muscular curves and the way her skin glowed in the sunlight. She brought her hands down to rub her eyes, letting out an irritated groan as she thought about the never-ending list of things she needed to do that day.
“Something wrong?” He asked, beginning to softly run his hand down her side. Anders grazed her hip with a soft squeeze, unwittingly making contact with a bruise he had left on her bum the previous night. Hawke winced involuntarily at the sudden jolt of soreness before dissolving into a fit of laughter. “Hawke?”
She shook her head with a grin and pulled back the bedsheet to look at the slight discoloration below her hip. “You’ve got a firm grip, love.”
“Maker,” Anders laughed, hiding his face in her abdomen. Hawke ran a hand through his auburn hair as he lay with his head on her stomach.
“How mad do you think Aveline would be if I didn’t meet her at the keep until tomorrow?” Hawke asked. She wanted nothing more than to stay wrapped in this moment as long as she could, and quite frankly, she was starting not to give a damn about the consequences if she did.
“She wouldn’t be happy,” Anders began, placing a hand on either side of Hawke to prop himself up. “But she’d still hate Isabela more than you.”
“I can live with that.”
Hawke grinned as Anders bent down to kiss her softly. She hummed lightly into the kiss and threw her arms around his neck, savoring his lips and the feeling of his body pressed against hers. His tongue playfully caressed her bottom lip, inviting Hawke to deepen the kiss while his leg pressed firm between her thighs. The two of them dissolved into a whirlwind of hasty breaths between soft lips and teeth and tongues as Hawke’s hands began to roam up and down his back, settling on his shoulder blades to cling his body to hers. Anders’ fingers found purchase in her hair, and he pulled her head back on the pillow to get a better angle for leaving generous love bites on her neck.
“I love your neck.”
“Oh, really?” Hawke said between giggles. “And what else?”
“Your lips,” he mumbled, grazing her lips with a tender kiss, “Your hands,” he interlocked his fingers with hers and brought them above her head, “Your legs,” Anders licked his bottom lip as Hawke spread her legs further in anticipation, “The way your eyes roll back a bit when I do this,” he pressed his leg into her core, causing a wave of pleasure to ripple through her body. Her eyes did roll back a bit, she laughed.
Hawke hooked her left leg around Anders’ hip and flipped them over, causing him to let out a grunt in surprise when she held his hands to the bed. She ground her hips ever so slightly above his cock, relishing in the pleasurable moan she elicited from him.
“Why don’t you let me take it from here,” she whispered. Hawke removed her hands from his and began to move them down his chest and his stomach, nails lightly grazing his skin as he looked up at her reverently. Anders moved his hands to grip the outside of her thighs as she continued to rock herself against his cock with slow and tantalizing motions. The wicked grin on her face as she teased him was torturing him, and she knew that very well, but she wasn’t ready to give him what he wanted just yet.
She brought a hand down to his cock, not taking all of him in her hand yet, just lightly stroking her fingers from the base to the tip. Anders hissed in anticipation, letting his head fall back against the bed as she continued to work her fingers up and down his length. When she finally wrapped her hand around him he let out a low, guttural moan, biting his lip to stifle the sound a bit. Hawke’s eyes lit up at the sound of his pleasure and she continued to stroke him slowly, thoroughly. Anders’ fingers dug into her thighs and Hawke gasped at the sudden familiar pain.
“Sorry, are you alright?” Anders asked.
“I didn’t ask you to stop, did I?”
“Then don’t let go.”
Hawke rose her hips above his cock, adjusting so that the tip was aligned with her entrance. She slowly, torturously, sank down onto him, letting her head fall back as they both moaned from the pleasure. With her blessing, Anders kept his grip on her thighs, guiding the direction of her hips as she rode him. He marveled at the beautiful woman above him as she used one hand to keep her hair out of her face while the other palmed his chest to keep her balance. Her moans crescendoed with his when he began to thrust into her from below, keeping his grasp on her legs as they increased the pace.
As he thrust into her faster and faster, Hawke collapsed on top of him, overcome with pleasure as she moaned into his chest. Anders wrapped one of his arms around her lower back to steady her, barely able to hold it together with her moans and pleas so close to his ear. He felt her walls clench around him, taking him completely over the edge as he cried out from the overwhelming sensation. He reached down to her clit, stroking between her folds until she was coming undone on top of him. She shuddered as the pleasure ripped through her body, drawing out her moans until they were reduced to light whimpers into his neck.
“Fuck,” Hawke laughed lightly into his skin. Anders chuckled in agreement as their breaths began to slow in sync. She slid off of him, resting her head on his chest as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She wished things could feel this normal all the time, just late nights and gorgeous mornings kept between the two of them. But, if she had to be Kirkwall’s Champion, she was glad she could at least do it alongside her renegade mage.
“I love you, you know,” Hawke said.
Anders gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before the satisfied grin returned to his face. “And I love you, Hawke.”