#I WROTE SO MUCH ERM... RUNS AWAY REALLY FAST SORRY THIS GOT RAMBLY i hope is acceptabkle.. smile

[sadistpet]

"a burnt child loves the fire-" his words are spoken alongside the hesitant sigh of a man unsure if he oversteps his bounds. he keeps an eye not on the other but rather the sky and the stars beyond them - feels at home in the embrace of the night's cold. after a moment's silence, he turns attention once more, a subtle softness in the battle-worn expression of a man, tired. "must you still burn-?"

(( have some random angst, also HI ILY dont mind me just adding to your stuff once you just completed everything shuuush sorry bby lov u sdlknglksd ))

voice like interstellar noise. sandpaper rough against blast-deafened ears, aural fuzz that grates and irritates the contours of his brain. like every sound was now. every voice. the harsh rub of reality through the thick wefts of cotton-soft, dreamlike cushioning that coddles his mind, built gradually through years of handweaving spider silk in desperate self preservation ; and it frays and wilts beneath a coarse touch just the same.

" what else am i supposed to do ? "

scars mar the surface of raikov's pointed knuckles, the thin riverbeds of pink, smooth skin catching the white of the moonlight. the chill of the night doesn't spare him, despite how accustomed he is to temperatures even far below this; his body prickles with goosebumps, drawing ever more attention to the smattering of healed wounds that tarnish the beauty of his hands. he feigns ignorance ; draws the cigarette between thin digits to his lips and bores holes into the other man with his eyes.

there was something to be said about ivan and fire. be that setting himself ablaze to bring others warmth, or continuing to let the flames of rage and heartbreak and anguish burn even after flesh and bone had been licked to ash. or the searing heat that every scar that breaks the porcelain skin has left in its wake. it was violent. self-destructive. there was passion in burning. comfort. after so long being burned, wouldn't you miss it when it stopped ? smoke escapes his lips on a silent breath.

it was a desire for vengeance, more than anything. every step, every heartbeat propelled by hate and revenge. the itch in his fingers to pump those that ruined his life full of lead, the hunger in his stomach to watch their faces turn bloodless and pallid beneath his hands. death had lost its seduction long ago -- the scent of flesh rended by plasma and electricity and gunpowder and shrapnel had embedded itself in what seemed to be his very molecules, the bloodstained face of his beloved etched into his mind and memory, and whatever pleasure he had once derived from the demise of others was smothered beneath the weight of losing his colonel. now, killing remained as merely an action ; muscle memory of the only thing he knows.

" maybe burning is what keeps me going. " burning like lightning in his veins. his lower lip is bitten between ivory teeth. it'd festered and grown and boiled inside of him and tipped into consumption. and he had let it, watched it sear beneath his flesh and fry his nerves to cinders and char his heart to coal. the burning was something more than the numbness of grief, the agony of heartbreak. the flames of revenge stoked by his own hand.

he knows, however, deep in the depths of his ashen heart that cracks more with every beat, that the deaths of those that have wronged him - have ruined him - would never satiate the painful, nauseating loneliness that permeates his every waking hour. killing snake, ocelot, eva, whoever else it took, wouldn't bring the colonel back. and ultimately, that was the only thing ivan truly wanted.

but that realisation hurt more than one could fathom. and so he douses himself in gasoline and lets the flames of righteous anger lick the membrane off his bones and prays the pain is less than that of being alone.

" you wouldn't understand. " he scowls at the other man, but the weariness that haunts his body betrays the legitimacy of his expression. of course, he would prefer not to endure the incessant querying of a shakespearean-tongued stranger, however lonely he might be. at the end of the day, this man is just another maggot beneath his heel.

[notabloodmage]

Handers - the first night

Finally wrote a continuation of the fade-to-black scene with Minerva Hawke and Anders!!! this is incredibly self-indulgent but i hope y'all enjoy!!!

``This is the rule I will most cherish breaking.``

Hawke could scarcely believe it as Anders cupped her face with a loving hand and leaned down, closing the distance between them with a passionate kiss. It was a moment three years in the making for the both of them. Her stomach fluttered as the apostate’s lips brushed hers.

She opened her mouth readily, reaching up to place a gentle hand on his cheek, rubbing her thumb against the rough texture of his stubble. She was practically trembling with anticipation. He smelled incredible--elfroot and eucalyptus with just a touch of ozone.

He’d clearly bathed before he came, too, his golden hair fluffier than she’d ever seen it.

She ran her free hand through it as he drew her closer, sliding a hand around her waist, clinging to her as if he was afraid she'd disappear. Hawke found his hand with hers, giving it a light squeeze before pulling away from him with a dazed smile. She gazed up at him with an expression of pure desire that it had an exquisite blush colouring his sunken cheeks.

From this close she was able to admire him fully, studying the angles of his face. He stared back at her intensely as she took a step back, never letting go of his hand.

She led him to the bed, eyes betraying her nervousness only for a moment before she found them drifting downwards, gaze landing on Anders’ (surprisingly soft!) lips.

He smirked at that, confidence clearly rising, and kissed her again, more insistently this time.

She tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach as the back of her legs bumped into her bed. She knew he was far more experienced in the bedroom than she, and she was terrified she was going to muck this up somehow.

Despite how confident she managed to come off in public, Hawke was not nearly as experienced as she led everybody to believe.

She let herself fall back gently onto the mattress, taking in the sight of him over her with a crooked grin. He looked happier than she’d ever seen him, which made her chest ache in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

He climbed atop her, eyes trailing over her body before meeting hers with a gleam in them she’d never seen before. He looked at her with such profound, unbridled desire. He kissed her again, He explored her mouth with his tongue, sliding his free hand up her side sensually, before cupping her face with it once more. She let go of his hand so she could run her fingers through his hair again, something she’d always been tempted to do. It was even softer to the touch than she’d imagined. She hummed her approval against his lips as she worked his hair free of the tie, letting it down to frame his face. The tips of his hair tickled her cheekbones which made her smile into the kiss. Maker, she could kiss him forever.

He fit so perfectly against her, eager hands running up and down her sides as he continued to explore her mouth with his tongue. It was such a stark contrast to how he`d been with her not two days prior. He was always so reserved about touching her, stiffening at a mere brush of Hawke`s hand against his as they were walking or a chaste hug goodbye after a day of work at the clinic. Hell, even when he was healing her he could never seem to look her in the eyes. Hawke had all but given up the hope that he might be interested at all, but she couldn't get past the way he looked at her. She always found herself making her way back to the clinic to see if he was alright--if there was anything she could do to help him. Anything to hear him say her name again.

Anders pulled back, honey-brown eyes burning with a passion that made her shiver. He was so close, so warm against him. He was perfect. He was so much more than she deserved.

“Minerva,’’ Her name was a prayer on his lips as he pulled back, taking in the sight of her flushed features.

“Anders,” Minerva replied, her usual smirk and confidence fading as he studied her expression closely.

Something about the way he looked at her always made her feel so seen. Her eyes flicked around the room. Even though they were both still fully clothed, she felt exposed beneath his smouldering gaze. He cupped her cheek with his calloused hand, gently guiding her to meet his eyes, which only made her flush darker. ``I- erm, well I--`` Minerva swallowed, steeling herself.

Anders paused in his ministrations, eyes widening with concern.

“I`m sorry--am I going too fast? Do you want me to stop?” His demeanour changed so quickly, voice quivering with the fear of rejection mixed with genuine curiosity. He watched carefully for her reaction, beginning to pull away, stopping only when she pulled him back by the front of his coat.

“N-No! It's not that!” Hawke stammered. “This is, well, this is wonderful really, I don't know how I got so lucky…”

Anders’ expression softened at that, watching her intently as she rambled. He'd never seen her like this before--all flushed and uncertain. It sparked something within him that caught ablaze as Hawke stuttered out her next words.

”It's just that, well… Isabela was… my uh… my first and erm…” Hawke cleared her throat awkwardly, cautiously meeting his eyes for the first time since she’d opened her mouth. “It’s just that I’ve never… you know…” She trailed off, searching his face for a reaction.

The realization set in slowly, but Anders pulsed with a strange sense of possession when it hit him.

“You've never been with a man before?” Anders’ voice was soft. He gazed at her as if he was trying to memorize every detail of her face as she nodded.

Anders couldn’t believe it. Minerva Hawke-- a virgin?? Sort of, anyway.

The same Hawke that flirted with everyone so shamelessly, much to his entirely unjustified irritation. He figured she had as much experience as he did, and he was fully aware that she’d been with Isabela. Now he understood why Hawke had been so flustered when Isabela talked about their exploits so openly. He’d have to ask the pirate to tell him about it sometime...

He’d be lying if he said the notion didn't turn him on. The fact that Hawke trusted him to be her first was something he was going to take very seriously.

“Is… Is that okay?” She asked, her lip was quivering-- a sight that both excited him and made his heart ache for her. Did she really think he’d reject her over something like that?

He swept his thumb over her cheek, admiring the flush that painted her skin. He kissed the corner of her mouth, which made her lips twitch with the ghost of a nervous grin. She could feel his smile against her face, and the prickle of his stubble against her skin as he kissed his way up her jaw. Teasing her earlobe gently between his teeth, he answered.

“Of course it’s okay, love.” He whispered in her ear, chucking as if the notion that he’d be bothered was silly. He pulled back so he could gaze into her eyes-- a different shade of brown than his. Warmer. “Thank you for telling me, Minerva.”

She smiled up at him sheepishly, pure adoration in her eyes.

“I still can’t believe you’re here…”

“I’m here…” He confirmed. “As long as you'll have me. You will have me, right Hawke?"

She giggled at that, a beautiful light sound that he found himself chasing, laughing with her.

“Anders, I don’t know if I could possibly make it clearer how badly I’d like to have you.”

The mage smirked at that.

“I can think of a few ways.”

He descended upon her again, passion surging as he gave her several short, open-mouthed kisses before working his way down her neck. He sucked at her soft skin, leaving a trail of little marks in his wake. He ran his hands over her body before sliding them underneath her finery, cold fingers trailing teasingly up the sides of her thighs.

She let out a small whimper as his tongue slid over a particular spot on the side of her neck, so he sucked on it lightly at first, smirking against her skin before nipping at it gently. She whined approvingly, running her fingers over the feathered pauldrons of his coat before beginning to fidget with the buckles, deft fingers sliding him out of it with ease.

She eyed him hungrily as he slid her robe up, not quite high enough to reveal her center, not yet. Anders wanted to take his time. They had all night, after all, and they'd waited three long years. He wanted--needed--to make this last.

He wanted to hear what Hawke sounded like with his fingers inside of her, taste the sweet nectar between her legs. He wanted to see her flushed, fucked open, and satisfied. He couldn't wait to see what she looked like with his cock inside of her. It had been so long since Anders had been with anyone--his brief tumble with Nathaniel seemed so long ago now…

He trailed his hands up, back overtop of her finery. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him ever closer to her. He slipped his skilled fingers into the front of her robe, widening the neckline not enough to completely expose her to him just yet, but enough to give him a tantalizing view of her chest. He teased the skin below her breasts with his thumbs, which brought a sound out of her that was a mix of a whimper and a giggle.

He smiled warmly.

“You’re so cute.”

Now that got a reaction. He’d never complimented her so casually before. He was always sincere in his thanks for her help, and he’d praised the integrity of her actions but this was different. Her flush was creeping down her neck, colouring the swell of her chest just beautifully. Her mouth was agape-- perfect lips kissed swollen and glistening in the firelight.

He brought his face level with hers and kissed her again.

And again, and again, and again.

Minerva, meanwhile, was on cloud nine. He kissed her like she was the only thing that mattered. At this moment she could scarcely recall the world outside her bedroom. That twisted world of mage oppression, qunari affairs and red lyrium seemed merely a dream compared to the man on top of her.

He moaned into her mouth when she slid her foot up his calf, tangling her legs with his. She pulled away from him with an expression he’d never seen before, and it took his breath away. It was a variation on her signature crooked grin-- the grin that’d charmed him from the start.

Now however, as she slid her robe off of her shoulders, revealing the curves of her body to him there was a new layer to that perfectly imperfect smile. It was nervous, which wasn’t entirely new-- Hawke was always smiling, even when she was terrified. But there was a new vulnerability in her eyes as they met his-- the way she seemed so desperate for his approval mystified and magnetized him.

She hadn’t bothered with a brassiere tonight--she knew what he was coming here to do, and she was more than eager despite her persistent anxieties.

She leaned back on her elbows, looking up at him with those knowing--yet still questioning--eyes, letting him take in the view of her beneath him. She was perfect against the red satin sheets in only her smallclothes, teasing her feet along the sides of his legs.

Her hair was damp with sweat, and her skin had taken upon a soft glow in the firelight. Her hair was undone, wild brown curls free to frame her face. Every inch of her tanned Ferelden skin was patterned with freckles.

“Beautiful…” Anders breathed.

She began to kiss along his jawline as he took her breasts in his hands, giving them an appreciative squeeze before massaging them gently. He rolled her nipples expertly with his thumbs, making her bite back a moan. She teased her lower lip between her teeth temptingly.

He leaned forward to kiss her behind the ear, flicking his tongue out to tease her as he began to murmur sweet nothings to her.

“Mm, your voice is so pretty, love, let me hear you.”

He punctuated the statement by sliding his tongue into her ear and pinching her left nipple gently. She whimpered so sweetly as he began to kiss his way down-- taking the sensitive flesh into his mouth to soothe it with gentle laps of his tongue.

He found himself remembering what she'd said to him all those years ago.

"Hurt me," she'd flirted shamelessly once when he tried to warn her away. "I might like it."

And like it she did as he sunk his teeth into her hardened nipple.

She moaned approvingly as Anders mirrored the treatment to the other side, sucking at her desperately. One hand teased her free breast while his other began to slide down her abdomen towards the hemline of her smalls.

He slipped his long fingers beneath the fabric slowly, teasing at the line where her hair began. She squirmed underneath him, eyes glazing over with need. She kissed at the side of face-- his neck-- his arms-- his hands-- his chest. Any part of him she could reach. She pulled him closer, spurring him on. He smiled and kissed her again, savouring every single little sound she made for him as he ran a finger over her core.

His body thrummed with desire when he found her slick with arousal, soaking the fabric of her smalls. He spread her wetness over her clit, swallowing the deliciously little squeak she made before pulling away from her mouth with a pop, watching her face as it twisted in pleasure. He circled over that spot, his fingertips painfully slow over the sensitive bundle of nerves, relishing in the choked whine that escaped her lips. She gradually abandoned her nerves and gave into the knot in her belly--sliding her hands down his back and pulling his hips against her in an unspoken request

“Anders,” The breathless whisper made him quiver.

“Not yet,” He breathed against her skin, sucking hard enough to leave a mark on a spot that had her moaning. “I’ve waited this long to have you, Hawke. Forgive me if I want to savour you.”

His eyes were ablaze

His normally brown eyes seemed to turn into honeyed amber, the lust within them smoldering outwards as his lidded gaze met hers. She trembled against him, the way he looked at her combined with the tease of his skilled hand had bolts of pleasure crackling down the length of her spine. Pure unadulterated desire. He descended upon her once more, sliding down her body with anticipation. He ran his fingers teasingly up her toned legs, smirking as she bit back a giggle--he made a mental note to ask her if she was ticklish later, because that was something he would just have to take advantage of sometime.

But not tonight.

Tonight he hooked his fingers around her smalls and slid them down her legs slowly, admiring the contrast of the red fabric against her skin.

He slid his undershirt over his head, smiling sheepishly as her gaze slid over his body. It wasn’t that he was insecure-- about his looks anyway-- but he found his stomach fluttering in spite of himself.

He wanted to please her so badly. He’d wanted to for years. Years spent getting by on sick fantasies that scandalized the spirit living within him and now the object of his desires was his for the taking, completely bare before him. Anders could still hardly believe this was happening.

“Well don’t stop there…” Her gaze flickered downwards over his body before back to his in an exaggerated manner. She waggled her brows at him suggestively.

Even through her nerves and fluster, Hawke was still Hawke.

This had him laughing before he’d even had time to be self-conscious. It reminded him of what made her so hard to resist in the first place: how open she was with her desire for him. It was far more than he deserved. He slid out of his girdle and smalls, giving a small sound of satisfaction as his aching cock sprang free.

His ego swelled at the way her eyes widened when she took in his size. His magic tricks weren’t the only thing that made him popular at the Pearl.

She spread her legs for him shyly, unable to meet his eyes, she was gazing towards the fireplace, the freckles on her cheeks disappearing beneath a dark red flush.

Even without his clothes, the room was still entirely too hot. Anders let his gaze take in Minerva’s form for only a brief moment before he put out the fire with a flick of his wrist. Darkness swept over their senses. There were still a handful of candles lit, but the light was dim enough to make her squint as she searched for his figure.

His hands found her, traveling over her figure. He kissed her clumsily, missing at first in the dark. His heart swelled as she shook with laughter beneath him.

He traced his tongue down the line of her navel to her womanhood, pausing to admire the sight from this close. She was neatly trimmed and glistening with wetness. His mouth watered instinctively.

She looked good enough to eat and Maker, was he starving.

He guided her gaze back towards him via two fingers of his gentle hand under her pointed chin, tracing the line of her jaw with his thumb. By now his eyes had adjusted enough to see hers twinkling up at him in the dark.

“May I taste you, Minerva?” The sound of him saying her name alone was enough to make her moan shyly, meeting his intense gaze, before her gaze flickered down to his lips.

He gave her what she wanted, kissing her hard, delving into her mouth with his tongue once more. He kissed his way down her body again, dipping his head between her legs, hovering just above her quivering pussy. He could practically smell her arousal.

“Well?” He teased, eyeing her cockily.

It was so often her teasing him, so he was all too pleased that the tables had finally turned. She gazed down at him with such bewildered adoration, a small trail of drool running down her chin. She looked perfect: lustful and wanton.

“Andraste’s Mercy, Anders,” She whimpered. “Please!”

Anders needed no further invitation.

He leaned forward, pressing his hands against her thighs with newfound confidence. It took every ounce of his restraint to keep him from devouring her on the spot.

He made himself start slow--kissing and sucking his way up her thighs, leaving behind deep red and purple marks that looked so perfect on her sweat-slick skin. When he reached her center he paused, looking up at her for reassurance only to grin when she slid her fingers into his hair, gripping the blond locks tightly.

He started with a tender kiss to her clit that made her gasp and tense in a way that had him smirking. He followed it with a long, slow lick up her entire slit, making good on his word and savouring the taste of her. He sipped at her like she was a fine wine, and with all his past experience from his younger days, Anders did know exactly what he was doing. He used one hand to hold her in place as she squirmed, the thumb of which he used to massage her clit with gentle, but firm strokes. The other traveled upwards, massaging her breast. She left one hand tangled in his hair while the other interlocked with his over her chest, squeezing tightly as she moaned out his name.

He was painfully hard now, but the torture of waiting was as much a pleasure to him as Hawkes sweet moans as she bucked against his face. He could spend an eternity down here. He slithered his tongue up inside her, humming in teasing approval at her squeak of surprise. He fucked her expertly with his tongue, the tip of his long nose bumping against her clit, rubbed to hardness by his previous ministrations. He couldn’t hold back his moans as Hawke began to tremble beneath him and he was able to fully taste her juices as they began to flow in earnest.

“Oh, Maker’s Breath, Anders, I- I can’t-- I- I’m gonna--” She cut herself off with a moan as he pinched her nipple playfully, chuckling against her before sucking on her clit. Hard.

Minerva squirmed in his arms, but he held her fast. She was much stronger than him, usually, but she couldn’t seem to find control over her limbs at the moment. She bucked against him wildly, letting out a choked whine as he pushed her over the edge.

He continued to lick at her, working her into hypersensitivity as she pushed helplessly at his shoulders.

He pulled away reluctantly--if she wasn’t that experienced, she probably couldn’t go as long as he could yet. The heat pooling in his belly only grew when he considered that they had all the time in the world to build up her endurance.

He crawled back up her body, guiding her up the bed and laying her head ever so gently on the pillows. She was still shaking from the aftershocks of her orgasm.

“I.. That was… Wow…” She seemed to be struggling to string a sentence together. Anders rubbed his hand along her side absent mindedly, studying her face with a loving smirk as she swallowed hard. After a few moments of panting and gentle caresses, and Anders whispering sweet nothings in her ear that made her melt, she opened her mouth again.

“I- I mean… We’re not done yet though, right?” She turned to him, running a hand down his bare chest, teasingly close to where his erect member pressed against his lower abdomen. “What about you?”

He was trying to come up with a witty remark when her lips found his collarbone and he abandoned speech in favour of an encouraging moan. She began to explore his body, tentatively at first, spurred on when he took her in his arms and placed her in his lap. Both of them cried out at the slick slide of her drenched pussy against his weeping cock. He was rock-hard and hypersensitive, and that alone was enough to shake Minerva out of her lustful daze enough to look her lover in the eyes.

“Are you alright?” Anders was watching her so closely, unashamed now that he had her permission. He didn’t miss the way her nose crinkled with her eyes as she burst into a fit of giggles. Her laugh was so musical, not self deprecating or sarcastic like it usually was. Just pure joy.

“Better than alright.” She flung her arms over his shoulder, bringing her face close to his. She was smiling wider than he’d seen in a long while (well, excluding the dazed grin she’d given him after he’d kissed her at the clinic earlier today). The sight made him feel warm in a way he’d never experienced before.

“I’ve… Wanted to do this for a while now…” She looked away, eyes trailing down his body towards the apex of his thighs. He gave a bitter huff of laughter and pulled her into him again, his kiss saying far more than he’d ever be able to with words.

“I wasn’t joking when I said three years, you know.” He looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered.

“Aching,” He whispered against her lips, he pulled her close, pressing her body against his.

“For,” He flipped them, so he was atop her once more, her beneath him on the pillows, waves of curly brown hair framing her cherubic face like a halo.

“You.” He kissed her again and for a moment he forgot everything, even Justice. For a moment Kirkwall was gone and all that remained was the amazing woman beneath him, grabbing at him desperately.

“Anders-- Please--” His name was a prayer on her lips. A chant, a song that propelled him forward. He let out a strained moan as she bucked beneath him, rubbing her pussy against his dripping cock. He was hypersensitive, every brush of her body against his sending bolts of electricity down his spine. He grit his teeth and willed himself to keep teasing her, focussing on how cutely she whined as he rubbed the head of his cock over her clit, his precum mingling with her fluids.

“Anders--”

“Ask me, Hawke. Tell me you want me,” Anders ordered, before following it up with an oh so sweet, “Please…”

"Maker's flaming breath, Anders, I’ve wanted you for so long.” Hawke found herself begging in spite of herself, shame abandoned. “Please, Anders, fuck me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, he lined himself up with her entrance and looked deep into her eyes.

“Say my name, love.” He whispered as he slid effortlessly into her dripping pussy.

She obeyed him so beautifully, sinking her fingers into his shoulders as she cried out for him. Anders let out a moan in her ear as she clamped down at the intrusion. He pumped in and out of her slowly, shallowly at first, allowing her to adjust to his length and girth. It didn’t hurt the way Minerva thought it would, it wasn’t long before Anders had her on the edge once more, and he hadn’t even sped up yet. He fucked her sensually, gazing down at the joining of their bodies.

His hands gripped her hips with bruising force, tingling with just the faintest hint of electricity. Minerva remembered offhandedly an interaction between Anders and Isabela where an ‘electricity trick’ was mentioned, and Minerva couldn’t help but wonder if he’d try it on her sometime.

Her train of thought was interrupted as Anders let out a low growl.

“Maker, Minerva. You feel so-- ugh-- so good--” Anders separated each word with a desperate kiss on her neck, her lips, her jaw, her chest, anywhere and everywhere he could reach, he only wanted to see more, feel more, love more of her. His pace became less even as he began to pump into her more quickly. His cock was not small, and he smiled with satisfaction when he observed how Minerva’s eyes widened as he bottomed out inside of her. Her pussy pulsed and twitched, embracing him so perfectly. She felt like the golden city itself.

He continued to rasp sweet praise as he fucked into her wildly. He was a little guilty that he wasn’t going to last very long, but when Minerva began to beg sweetly in his ear once more Anders lost control completely. He wanted to see her fall apart for him, and he would fall apart for her to make it happen.

Hawke bucked her hips in perfect time with his, moaning incoherently beneath him as he pushed her over the edge. He sunk his teeth into her shoulder as he came, spilling his emission deep inside of her. He lapped at the wound as he came down from his high, vaguely aware of Hawke playing with his hair as he pumped in and out of her idly. He met her eyes again. She smiled up at him placidly.

For a moment they simply soaked in the silence, gazing upon one another. They became aware of the crackle of the fire and the city beyond Hawke’s bedroom. But it was different now.

He was hers.

She was his.

Truly, how did they get so lucky?

They dozed, tangled in each other’s arms, shielding each other--protecting one another from the world outside. Neither of them were aware of how many minutes, or hours ticked by as they held each other, until Hawke took it upon herself to break the silence:

“Want a sandwich?”