pikapeppa:

In which there is dirty talk. *wiggles eyebrows salaciously*
This takes place immediately after Never Alone, i.e. the big Fenhawke reunion scene.

For @dadrunkwriting Friday! Read on AO3 here:
tinyurl.com/fenhawke5

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Hawke yawned loudly, then rolled toward Fenris and smoothed her palm over his chest. “Fenris, can you scratch my back?”

He hummed a lazy affirmative. Without opening his eyes, he drifted his fingers over her naked skin. “Where does it itch?”

“It doesn’t,” she replied.

His hand stilled. “Then why am I scratching your back, pray tell?” he drawled.

She wiggled against him and slid her bare leg between his equally naked thighs. “Because it feels nice. Come on, I’ll scratch yours if you scratch mine.”

He huffed. “I did not ask you to scratch my back,” he said, but began gently running his nails along her spine anyway.

“That’s just because you haven’t had anyone scratch your back before,” she said matter-of-factly. “You’ll see. You’ll like it.” She sighed happily, then twisted one shoulder. “Ahh, yes. That’s a good spot.”

He chuckled softly as he continued to scratch the indicated spot. “You’re spoiled.”

She shifted slightly higher on his body and traced the tip of his ear with her tongue. “And whose fault is that?” she whispered. Her voice was a warm breeze against his ear, and a ripple of heat ran down the back of his neck at the sultry tone of her voice.

He pretended to ignore the buzzing interest in his groin. “You’re right,” he said blandly. “I should stop, then. I would not want to spoil you further.” He let his hand fall limp beside her, even though he’d been enjoying the feel of her skin.

She tutted in annoyance, then poked him in the ribs. “Don’t be stingy with those talented fingers,” she scolded. “Come on, give a girl a scratch.”

He bit back a grin as he swatted her hand away. “Stop. You do not need to be scratched. You are not a mabari.”  

She tutted in mock offense. “You would rather scratch a mabari than scratch me?” she exclaimed. “Should I call Toby in here? See how much you like cuddling up to a big hairy hound instead of me? I’ll warn you, he’s a blanket hog. There’s a reason he’s not allowed on the bed.”

She rolled away from him and pushed herself upright, but Fenris grabbed her arm before she could leave the bed. “All right, no need to be hasty,” he grumbled. “I’ll scratch your damned back.”

She chuckled, then settled herself on his chest again. She rested her chin on her folded forearms and batted her eyelashes at him. “I knew you couldn’t resist my charms,” she purred.

He snorted and carefully ran his nails over her shoulder blade. “Charm. Is that what you call this?”

“I would, in fact,” she said pertly. “Why, what would you call it?”

He raised one eyebrow. “You don’t want to know what I would call it.” He slid his hand down her back and pinched her bum.

She squealed and poked him in the ribs in retaliation, and he flinched and grabbed her hand. “Don’t poke,” he warned. “Or I shall stop scratching.”

She groaned, then folded her arms under her chin again. “Unfair,” she announced.

“Says the woman who has me trapped while demanding to be petted,” he murmured. He closed his eyes contentedly as he ran his nails along her velvety back.

She chuckled softly, and her hair tickled his chest as she rested her ear against his chest. “Fine. I’ll keep my hands to myself. Are you happy?”

“Very,” he said, and he felt her cheek lifting in a smile against his chest.

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