Work Text:
Fenris went most of his known life without any possessions. Everything he had was his master’s, bestowed upon him only for one selfish reason or another. He couldn’t call anything his own: not the clothes on his back, not the food he ate, not the lyrium nor the skin that contained it. His body, his mind, his life… none of it belonged to him. Even as a free elf, it took Fenris an inordinate amount of time to begin regarding things as his own.
That is... until Hawke.
Fenris chided himself every day for the maelstrom of feelings he was developing towards the man — tenderness, protectiveness… possessiveness. That was what he hated the most. No man should ever belong to another, even in love.
Unless, Fenris figured one day, one gave himself freely.
To relay his newly discovered sentiments and initiate the idea percolating in his mind, he had to take the first step. “I am yours.” The words, so short and simple, felt like a big step, but he couldn’t decide if it was backward or forward. Instead, he watched Hawke carefully for his reaction, to see if what he's said was worth the weeks of agonizing.
The man stumbled over the cobblestones as he stepped up close — into Fenris' closely-guarded space — and cupped his jaw, their faces intimately close in the public streets of Kirkwall. Their lips met briefly, soft and warm and full of something so quietly passionate that Fenris wanted to chase the man’s lips as Hawke pulled away.
Hawke smiled at him, filling him with warmth in the cold Kirkwall night. “And I’ve been yours for a very long time.”