[He follows her easily, into the main room and then into her own, noting the locked door and how this has become something far more than he ever expected of her. His hood is pulled down and he can feel her hands run through the bottom of his hair, hand to his face, taking delight as she pushes back into him, her mouth to his. His hands travel all over her as they kiss, hot, wanting, needing for so much more than what they are, of what they have been. It is a dance, a whirlwind of lips and teeth and tongue, caught in the fires of desire and the simultaneous beating of hearts as a symphony, a cascade of unending sound.
It's enough for him to feel the ache that suddenly makes itself known below his gut, reminds him that while Hawke can be bold, he can be downright dangerous. The seconds pass and a low rumble rises from his chest, one that promises to devour, consume, destroy everything that Hawke is and make her whole at the same time. He is like a great and terrible storm, crashing into the tide at full force, decimating everything in his wake and creating new life as he leaves.
And so, in one swift movement, his arms change their position to her back and below that and he lifts her up off the floor, cradling her as he carries her right to the bed. He is forward in his intentions, not to mention impatient as he puts her back down, letting out a growl as he greedily buries his face in her neck again, mouth pushing past the collar of her jerkin and teeth beginning to nip along her neck. His hands are just as eager, palms tracing down her front and to her belt, fingers drifting over the buckles and trying to find just where exactly he has to pull to get them undone. He wants her and he wants her out of her clothes, Zelien or the Charon or the island be damned, they have gone through too much together to be denied this now.]
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It's enough for him to feel the ache that suddenly makes itself known below his gut, reminds him that while Hawke can be bold, he can be downright dangerous. The seconds pass and a low rumble rises from his chest, one that promises to devour, consume, destroy everything that Hawke is and make her whole at the same time. He is like a great and terrible storm, crashing into the tide at full force, decimating everything in his wake and creating new life as he leaves.
And so, in one swift movement, his arms change their position to her back and below that and he lifts her up off the floor, cradling her as he carries her right to the bed. He is forward in his intentions, not to mention impatient as he puts her back down, letting out a growl as he greedily buries his face in her neck again, mouth pushing past the collar of her jerkin and teeth beginning to nip along her neck. His hands are just as eager, palms tracing down her front and to her belt, fingers drifting over the buckles and trying to find just where exactly he has to pull to get them undone. He wants her and he wants her out of her clothes, Zelien or the Charon or the island be damned, they have gone through too much together to be denied this now.]