A late offering, inspired by @the-tevinter-biscuit​‘s Fenris Appreciation Month theme for Day 8: Leto. 

Full disclosure, this started off as a philosophical discussion of names and quickly got derailed into smut. *points at Fenris* It’s his fault, not mine.

Read on AO3 instead: 
tinyurl.com/fenhawke9

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Fenris turned the page. “Shall I continue?”

“Yes, please,” Hawke said, then yawned widely. “Keep going.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Hawke, you are half-asleep. What is the point of this?”

She tucked herself more securely against his side and curled her fists under her chin. “The point is that you’re talking, and I like it. Go on, keep reading to me.”

He sighed and idly stroked her silk-clad shoulder. “Spoiled,” he muttered, then continued his careful reading. “Formerly the Revered Mother Dorothea of Orlais, Divine Justinia V rose to power after the death of Divine Beatrix the Third in the year 9:34 of the Dragon Age. Little is known of Dorothea’s background before she joined the Chantry as an…” He paused and struggled for a moment. “An in… initiate.”

Hawke sighed musically. “Fascinating,” she murmured.

He leaned away from her and shot her a pointed look. “This is dull and you know it.”

She rolled onto her back and stretched her arms over her head. “Well, you won’t read to me anymore from The Knight’s Favour, so what other choices do we have?”

“You weren’t listening when I read from that book of trash,” Fenris drawled. “You were entirely too… distracted.”

She grinned wickedly at him, then rolled back toward him and propped her cheek on her fist. “Of course I was,” she said pertly. “Remind me again, how did that phrase go?” She dropped her voice to an exaggeratedly deep and growly register. “‘Ser Colin pulled his glove off finger by finger. His bare hand trembled as he caressed the duchess’s silken-’”

She broke off with a squeal of laughter when Fenris pinched her waist. “That is not what I sound like,” he said haughtily.

“You’re right. Your voice is much sexier,” she purred, and tried to sneak her fingers beneath his shirt.

Fenris grabbed her errant hand, then lifted it to his mouth and lightly nipped her wrist. “Behave,” he scolded. “I am enthralled by this fascinating book.”

Hawke groaned, then rolled onto her back again and folded her arms behind her head. “Fine. Continue the history lesson if you must.”

Fenris smirked at her, then continued to read out loud. “Within the Grand Cathedral, rivals suggest that her…” He hesitated.

Hawke sat up and glanced at the page. “‘Reticence’,” she said, then lay back down again.

Fenris nodded his thanks. “… her reticence in discussing her past means she’s hiding something; few of her flock, however, can imagine her as anyone other than a gentle mother of obvious faith.”

“Do you think the Chantry sisters ever wish they could keep their own names when they become Divine?” Hawke interrupted.

Fenris shrugged. “I can’t imagine a name outweighs the honour of becoming the Divine,” he said.

“Mm,” Hawke acknowledged. “But abandoning the name they grew up with… It must be strange to get used to, no?”  

He didn’t reply. In truth, he was still debating a similar issue himself.

Leto. It was his ‘real’ name, the name he’d been given by his parents and the name he’d gone by until Danarius’s blasted ritual had stripped him of his memories and his former life. By all rights, Fenris should want to reclaim that name. But it didn’t feel… right.

“Oh fuck,” Hawke said. Fenris looked down to find her hand over her mouth and her eyebrows tilted in apology.

“I’ve put my foot in it again, haven’t I?” she said. “I didn’t mean… I know you talked about this with Aveline, about not changing your names and all that. I didn’t mean to…” She trailed off, then smiled brightly. “Second names are just as good,” she said pertly. “I mean, what is a name, really?”

He smiled faintly at her clumsy apology. “It’s all right,” he said. “I have wondered the same thing myself.”

He settled back against the head of the bed. “Fenris the little wolf,” he said slowly, then sneered at the belittling nickname. “A name given to me by a man I hated. Why would I want to keep it?”

Hawke rolled onto her belly and looked at him curiously. Encouraged by her attentive silence, he continued. “I know my name was ‘Leto’. I know that, but… I do not feel it.” He paused for a moment and leaned his head back pensively. “‘Fenris’ is the name I remember. This name is the one that carries the life I know.”

He lifted his head and looked at her seriously. “There is no reclaiming that life from before,” he said quietly. “For all intents and purposes, ‘Leto’ is dead.”

Hawke’s eyebrows creased in sympathy. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

He gave her a half-smile. “Do not be sorry. I am…” He hesitated. He could say he was at peace with how things had turned out, but that wouldn’t be entirely true. The unsolved mysteries of the life he’d lost would always rub him wrong, but it was a scar he could live with. He was used to living with scars, after all.

Finally he shrugged. “It is what it is. And I am well used to my name by now. It no longer bothers me.”

Hawke studied him thoughtfully for a moment longer, then smiled. “Good,” she said. “Because I’m quite fond of your name. ‘Fenris.’”

His name became a languorous drawl in Hawke’s cheeky voice. Fenris smirked at her. “I am glad you like it,” he deadpanned. “I’m surprised you haven’t shortened it like you have the others’.”

“Oh, you mean like Av and Seb and Bels?” she said. “No, not your name. I like the way it rolls off my tongue.” She wet her lips, then said his name again with relish. “Fenris.”

A tiny shiver of heat trickled down his throat in response to her words. His name became a heated purr in Hawke’s velvety voice, imbued with satisfaction as it fell from her lips.

He reached out and brushed his thumb over those tempting scarlet lips. “I like it as well,” he told her. “I think you should say it again.”

She bit her lower lip, and Fenris watched with great interest as her expression became suggestive. “I think you should make me say it again.”

He smiled slowly at her, then abruptly slid down the bed and rolled her onto her back with a firm hand on her hip. “Hmm,” he growled. “What should I do to make you call my name…?”

His fingers nimbly parted her silk robe, and he listened to the catching of her breath as he traced the underside of her breast with the tips of his fingers. His thumb drifted slightly higher, teasing the border where golden skin melded into the dusky edge of her nipple.

She arched toward his hand. “Fenris…”

His name became a tender wish in Hawke’s desirous voice. He could feel his cock straightening in his breeches as he slid his hand across her sternum to tease her other breast.

Hawke released a needy little keening sound as he brushed his thumb ever-so-lightly over the point of her nipple. “Fuck,” she whimpered.

Fenris cocked his head teasingly. “What was that?” he asked.

His hand drifted down to rest against her ribs, her lips parted on a gasp when his hand grew still against her skin. “Fenris, please,” she whined.

His name became a yearning plea in Hawke’s needy voice. He lowered his face to her breast and brushed his nose across her nipple, then slicked the flat of his tongue over the pebbled peak.

“Ah – yes!” she cried, and her fingers slid into his hair as he suckled her nipple gently.

He swirled his tongue around the dusky little point and teased the border of her other nipple with his fingers until she writhed her hips and parted her knees. “Please, Fenris, touch me,” she breathed.

His name became a longing prayer in Hawke’s husky voice. He inhaled deeply to control his own need, then released his breath in a growl that was muffled by the curve of her flesh. He pinched her nipple, relishing her sudden cry of pleasure, then abruptly cupped her silk-covered sex with his palm.

She thrust her hips viciously toward his hand. “Oh Maker,” she gasped.

Fenris lifted his mouth from her breast and stared at the undulating wave of her belly as she tried in vain to rub herself against his hand. It was an exquisite sight: the shape of her body barely concealed by her silk robe and her silk smallclothes, the heated longing that twisted her lovely face as she tried to claim her pleasure from his adamantly unmoving hand.

He lowered his lips to her ear. “What was that you said?” he taunted.

“Fenris,” she gasped, then she moaned as he stroked her through her smallclothes. “Fenris, please!”

His name became a lustful appeal in Hawke’s strained voice. His cock pulsed in his breeches, his body and blood thrilling in response to her words, and he clenched his teeth to keep his lust in check. He slowly slipped his hand up from the vee of her thighs, then even more slowly inched his fingertips into her smalls.

She panted with increasing desperation as his fingers crept through her curls. He dipped his fingers lower, two fingers exploring her slick heat, and she lifted her hips more desperately and clasped the back of his neck.

“Stop teasing me, you handsome ass,” she whined.

He grinned at her blunt demand, then lowered his mouth to hers and nipped her lower lip. “Mind your manners, Hawke,” he whispered.

She lifted her chin and parted her lips to invite his kiss, but he moved his head away in an intentional taunt. Hawke dropped her head back into the pillows and clenched her nails against his neck. “Fenris, please, just touch me!”

His name became a carnal command in Hawke’s shameless voice, and he finally deigned to follow. He pressed his fingers into her cleft, sliding carefully through her slippery heat to seek her swollen nub.

She drew in a harsh breath, then moaned with unabashed pleasure as he stroked her clit with a light circular touch. She tugged him toward her with her hand on his neck. “Kiss me,” she begged.

Fenris eagerly slanted his mouth over her parted lips, and then her fingers were splayed against his jaw and threading through his hair, clutching his neck again and sliding along his shoulder as he rolled his fingertips over her slick and budded center. Her palm trailed over his bicep, then down over his forearm to clasp his wrist as he played his fingers between her legs.

He pulled away from her kiss. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” she breathed. She pressed his hand closer to her heat, and Fenris smirked at her impatience.

He lowered his lips to her ear again. “If there’s something you’d like me to do, you know how to ask,” he purred.

She whimpered and tugged his wrist, then groaned in frustration as his stroking fingers fell still between her legs. “Fenris,” she announced, “fuck you.”

He burst out a surprised little laugh at her rudeness. “There are many ways to interpret that, Hawke.”

She bucked against his hand and mewled. The desperation was obvious in every straining inch of her body, so open and exquisite and tempting, and Fenris sucked in a deep breath to control his own surging desire. Her fingers were clenched around his wrist, her other hand twisted in the pillow beneath her head. She thrust her hips fruitlessly toward his hand and thrashed her head to the side, exposing the golden column of her neck, and Fenris lowered his face and nipped the side of her throat.

The bite of his teeth seemed to push her over the edge. She instantly went limp, then arched her back like a bow and sobbed. “Please, Fenris!”

His name became a desperate cry in Hawke’s crystalline voice. He firmly stroked her swollen little bud with the pressure she’d been wanting, and her fingers instantly went lax against his wrist, rising to clasp his shoulder as he caressed the sensitive little spot. Her breaths were short and sharp, and her neck was both sweetness and salt against his tongue, and when her breaths became whimpers and her jaw was clenching, Fenris held his own breath, blood pulsing excitedly in his ears and between his legs until –

Hawke gasped, and he slid two fingers inside of her, and she screamed his name. “Fenris, yes!”

His name became a scintillating benediction in Hawke’s wanton voice. He swirled his fingers against her heated inner walls, and she scraped her nails across her own chest and cried out, and then she was riding his hand in a hard and rolling rhythm.

Fenris stared at the joining of her body with his hand. She was fucking his fingers with complete pleasured abandon, and he was utterly transfixed by the sight. For once he was unbothered by the white lines that traversed his palm; the path they followed into her body was sacred, the lines of lyrium and ink washed clean of their usual cursed aura as they took refuge inside the secret heated depths of his dark-haired lover’s body.

He watched her greedily for time uncounted, enjoying her tightness around his fingers until she reached down and clasped his wrist.

Her grip was firm and stalling this time, and instantly he let his hand fall still. “Are you all right?” he rasped, then cleared his throat; his barely-stifled lust was rendering his own voice rough.

She nodded her head and panted for breath before speaking. “Yes, of course, I just…” She laughed breathlessly and tugged on his hand. “Give me a minute, I feel like I’m going to melt from the inside out.”

He smiled and gently withdrew his fingers, then rested his palm on her belly as she tried to catch her breath. When the rise and fall of her ribs grew calm, she turned her head and met his gaze. For a moment they simply gazed at each other, and Fenris felt certain that he could sink in her adoring amber eyes if given half a chance.

Hawke smiled slowly, then released a joyful little laugh. “Maker’s balls,” she sighed. “You make me so…” She shook her head, still smiling, then rolled toward him and pressed herself against his front.  

She reached up and rubbed his earlobe gently between her fingers. “I’m crazy about you, Fenris,” she whispered.

His name… venhedis, his name in Hawke’s tender voice was a thing of beauty. Warmth and joy and wellbeing simmered in his chest, mixing with the lust that was boiling just below his belly, and if he’d known it was possible to feel this peaceful and this passionate all at the same time…

Well, there was no reclaiming the time he’d wasted without her. But he certainly wouldn’t waste another minute now.   

He wrapped his arm around her waist and slid his knee between her legs. Hawke gasped softly at the indirect pressure from his knee, her eyelashes fluttering with the resurgence of her desire, and Fenris pressed his forehead to hers. “This world is crazy, Hawke. But you and I…”

He brushed her lips with a gentle kiss. “This is the wisest choice I have ever made,” he whispered.