romdeau | a fishing date;

"If we do this, it will be successful," he assured her. The gears were already turning, although he knew it wasn't anything that would be accomplished easily. If they were caught, he intended to take full responsibility. He knew Meredith would be furious with him, but she wouldn't get rid of him. Probably. He shook that thought off. Tonight was for fun, not worry.

He took advantage of the position, pressing in for more contact. He realized that he could explore the curve of her mouth for a very long time and not tire of just that. He encouraged the part further with his tongue, more of a tease than a push past the part of her lips. He met her gaze and smiled faintly. "I'm counting on it, actually."

"If we do this, we're both out of our heads," she added, unable to contain her smirk. "I'm surprised at you going along with it. Pleased, of course, but surprised." Who knew he could be just as mischievous as she could?

The closeness was welcomed, the hand at his shoulder kneading carefully into the pliant muscles there to offer encouragement. She allowed a faint sound past her lips at the brush of his tongue, her eyes meeting his. "Good." Her hand slid to the back of his neck so she could press their lips together once more, the kiss slow but no less hungry than before.

"I make no claims of being a bastion of sanity at all times," he said. "I can think of a couple of areas in the Gallows we could get away with this. I'll just have to be careful in my choice of co-conspirators." He knew he could count on the quartermaster. It was the logistics of getting everything where he needed it to be without raising suspicion that was going to take a little doing.

She already seemed to know how to get to him with the slow burn. It had him balanced on a cusp between easy conversation and being relaxed with her, and wanting to kiss her until their lips were sore and they were desperate for breath. He satisfied some of that latter impulse by tightening his embrace, one hand sliding down beneath her thigh to turn her more in toward him. He raked his teeth gently over her lower lip, tugging back and going in for a deeper mesh of lips to lips, jaw working slightly and tongue pressing in for a closer twine.

There it was again, the ache that had him throwing caution to the wind earlier and finding a way to make all of this work in the confines of the boat. His fingers curled a harder press into her flesh, the rhythm of his breath hitching slightly. "I think you could make me completely crazy if I let you," he murmured mouth against mouth.

Varric was going to have kittens when she told him. And he would be so disappointed that she did this without telling him too. Ah, well. "For all your stoic glances and scowls in the Gallows, you're very fun," she said, expression genuine. "I don't think anyone would expect this sort of mischief from you." Which would make their plan perfect.

It was entirely too easy to slip into a comfortable balance between wanting more of his conversation and more of what he was doing to her, those heated glances and small smiles completely taking her off guard. She was glad she took this chance with him; she wasn't regretting a single moment of it, only that she'd taken four years to do anything like this.

She answered his tug with one of her own, following him through the gestures and giving him a small nip for good measure. Her fingers dug briefly into his side as she shifted to accommodate him better, breathing uneven, her body responding to his small touches and twines of tongue. She stroked his tongue with her own and she desperately wished they weren't actually on that boat for the fifth or sixth time that evening. She smiled against his lips and opened her eyes to look at him. "That's dangerous thinking, you know." Not that she'd dissuade him in the slightest.

"I believe in trying to strike a balance. There's a danger in being too serious all the time. There's a lot of pressure in this job. People need to find a healthy outlet." He was glad that he had some friends within the order who also understood that. It made it easier overall. "I'm glad you're having fun. I am, too."

He could feel her responsiveness, all of those small movements, the tightening of her hands. It sparked more of the same from him. He found himself rocking his hips upward again, unable to be fully still. "I know," he whispered. "Ask me if it bothers me."

Yet again, he gave her no chance to answer right away, not before a thorough, need tinged kiss that left him breathless within just a few moments. This time he nipped her upper lip, a quick little tug of teeth that was less a tease and more a want.

"So am I to assume you're actually quite jovial in your spare time behind closed doors?" She rolled her eyes mockingly. "Of course I'd never have noticed. So if I ask Sere Thrask what you're really like..."

She didn't want - or need - to ask, not with his strong grip and the insistent tug of teeth on lips. She reached up with a hand to keep him there so she could return the kiss better, fire and want behind it as she had his mouth. She made a sound against his lips as he rocked upwards and she worried his lower lip between hers.

When she released him only to breathe, she didn't separate herself too far from him. She exhaled shakily, nudging herself against his mouth as if she couldn't decide whether she wanted to kiss him again or not. She swallowed and then smiled. "Think there's room for me to kneel?" she asked suggestively. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, waiting to see if he'd follow her train of thought.

"Constantly. I keep myself laughing." He grinned and simply shrugged for the latter question. He wasn't going to give himself away if he didn't have to. She'd just have to ask Thrask.

He groaned softly as the kiss intensified, his look heated when she broke it. "I think so," he said after eyeing the space beneath them. "Or I could stand on the bench, and you could stand in the bottom of the boat. I'm not sure how comfortable the sloped sides would be for your knees." He knew if he hung onto the mast behind him, he'd be steady enough.

It was her turn to look at the space between them skeptically. Yes, the sides wouldn't be comfortable, but neither would balancing on a bench. If he fell, there'd be trouble. Although...hm. That sparked an idea or two. She gave him a slow look of appraisal, slowly sitting up.

"Are you sure you'd be able to stand that long?" The sort of control and balance he'd need to have would be impressive indeed. "I don't mind cramped legs."

"I'm sure," he said, very curious about her appraising look. There was something almost devious about it. He felt a small thrill of a shiver without fully knowing why. "Besides, you were already on your knees for a long time, and that was a flat surface. I won't tip the boat; I promise."

"If you're certain," she acquiesced, leaning up to kiss him once more, all heat and fervor. "And I'm not worried about the boat," she muttered against his lips. She supposed he'd have enough leverage to be able to hold onto her if he needed. That should be enough, or so she hoped.

She extracted herself from his embrace with some reluctance, smirking as she stood and stretched, letting him work out how he wished to position himself.

If he hadn't been, the kiss would have changed his mind. "You don't have to worry about me, either," he said, voice a little ragged.

He let her go, cool air sweeping across his lap when she pulled away and stood. Already he missed the weight of her there. With the sail and boom secured, he wasn't worried about being knocked overboard. The real question was whether his legs would hold out once things grew really heated.

He stood and turned to step up onto the seat, one hand to the mast to steady himself. The boat rocked a little side to side as he turned, leaning his weight slightly against the solid wood. Easing his hands back against it, he found that he could brace himself quite well, particularly when he found rope to grip. "This feels secure."

"Small chance of that happening," she retorted gently, watching him step up onto the bench. Why she was concerned, she hadn't the faintest clue. It wasn't as if she and her friends didn't engage in equally dangerous pastimes on a regular basis or found themselves in precarious situations. But it was another thing entirely when it was in the course of a sexual act. She wasn't certain his legs would hold him, nor that she would be able to keep him from dropping if they couldn't.

She stepped up before him once he was in place, reaching up to smooth her hands down his sides and over his hips. Even with the fabric separating them, she could feel the muscles of his stomach and thighs as her fingers moved downwards, caressing for now, admiring and possibly toying with him to get a reaction. "You can hold onto me if you need," she offered. It might throw off his balance eventually but her shoulders were there if he needed something.

Balancing up on her toes, she moved her hands beneath his shirt and dragged her fingers over his stomach and abdomen. "Take that off," she murmured, something of a command and partially a request.

His breath came faster, a visible rise and fall beneath his shirt. He felt somehow exposed standing up on the bench that way. It was more exciting than unpleasant. He bit his lower lip as he watched her, her pale hands showing up well against his clothing in the moonlight. It was more than she had been able to explore him with both of them seated closely.

"I will if I have to," he agreed. He wasn't so stubborn or proud that he would risk falling on her. If he truly couldn't hold his weight, he'd change positions before it reached a critical point of no return.

The muscle fluttered slightly beneath her touch, small twitches that weren't quite flinches. She was treading a fine line between stimulation and tickling. He nodded, reaching down to take the hem in his hands and tug the shirt over his head. He offered it to her silently to be set aside, worried that if he dropped it from that height it would catch enough wind to land in the water.

That satisfied her enough and she nodded, taking his shirt gingerly from him and setting it down in a corner so it wouldn't be lost. In the moonlight, exposed, she could see much more of him than she could earlier. She could admire the muscle structure and the way his chest rose and fell with his quickened breathing. A flicker of a smile was tossed his way, meant to be reassuring, before she went back to the task at hand.

Her fingers slowed so she could take her time, putting more pressure into the way she touched him as though she were almost attempting to massage the muscles she found. She worked her way down and fanned outwards with her ministrations, following muscle lines in his skin until she was met with the top of his breeches, where she could swipe her fingers over the fabric and hook a thumb in the side just to test how much give she had.. She leaned in so she could press a brief, teasing kiss to his stomach, one hand settling on his hip to keep him still.

He resumed his hold on the mast, the position having his back slightly arched, chest jutting forward and a little upward. He smiled, too, and then her hands were on him, cool and callused in places from her blade work. He liked that, never having been able fully to trust a completely soft hand.

He rested the back of his head against the mast, letting his eyes slide shut so that he could concentrate on how she followed every dip and swell. The waistband had a bit of give to it. He hadn't tied the lacing tightly when he had pulled his pants back on. The press of lips to his stomach sent it fluttering again, a brief tuck inward that settled once his body caught on to the fact she wasn't tickling him. His inhale was a soft hiss of air through his teeth, eyes cracking back open to slits to watch her from beneath sandy lashes.

He was a sight just like that, practically on display for her. She took a breath to steady her nerves, on edge with arousal, and directed her smile towards his stomach in her exploration. Every dip and give of muscle, accentuated when he tucked in reflexively, was mapped with her fingers as she looked for the places he was most sensitive.

Her moth was more gentle, at first, so he knew where she was and what she was doing. Her fingers hooked into the side of his breeches, the other coming to his front to knead slow circles into his thigh, when she grazed her teeth along his lower abdomen and gave a swipe of her tongue for good measure. She brought her hand up to unlace the top of his pants, thumb sliding along the inner curve of his thigh.

He seemed most sensitive in the tuck of muscle beneath the brace of his rib cage, his entire body shivering when she touched him there. Also, close to his navel, as his breath hitched when he felt her mouth.

Maker's breath, he was already feeling weak in the knees, thighs flexing to keep him firmly planted in place. His next exhale contained voice, a soft, low sound for the gentle bite and sweep of tongue. He tightened his grip on the rope beneath his hands, nails digging into the weave.

It took all of his self control not to rock forward suggestively and keep still while she worked at the laces. He couldn't look away, glad of the moonlight.

She breathed warmth over the patch of moisture she left in the wake of her tongue, practically purring at the sound he made. It sent a little thrill up her spine and she finally decided that, yes, she wasn't adverse to leaving a reminder here. But not yet. She pulled the loose knots of his laces free so he wasn't so constricted, giving him the heel of her palm to rub against at his leisure.

"You should see yourself," she murmured appreciatively, casting her gaze upwards even as she tugged his breeches down just enough to tease him further but not enough to free him. "You're beautiful." It wasn't something she said often to a man, but it was true; the way he pressed himself back, letting his chest puff out...the control he had over his movements, even with what she was doing. It was tantalizing in a way she couldn't describe. The moonlight on his bare skin only made him look more attractive as he was bathed in its glow.

She dipped her head back down to press a more solid kiss to his muscles, laving attention over them as she made her way down to the connection of his his hip, where she latched her mouth and sucked hard enough to raise a faint mark.

His brow furrowed in pleasure, eyes squeezing briefly shut. The release of the squeeze of the laces was a boon, but it was the heat and pressure of her palm that elicited the stronger reaction. He pushed very slightly and subtly at first, just enough for slow friction through the cloth.

"Heh." It was almost an uncomfortable sound, not quite laughter, sudden and unexpected, as unexpected as the compliment. "I, ah... That's not something I hear. Ever." After another moment he gave her a fleeting smile. "That sounded ungrateful. I should have said 'thank you'."

With her mouth on him, words fled again and left him gasping. That felt so good, a slight sting from the tightness of the skin there. He rocked against her hand again, a more insistent push. If she was interested in seeing him unravel in increments, she was doing exactly the right things.

Every faint rock against her hand was rewarded with firmer pressure against him as she let him decide his own pacing. She kissed him as she might do the same to his lips, slow, languid movements of her mouth followed by small nips and swipes of her tongue when it suited her.

She chuffed a laugh against him, palming him once more and leaving her hand there. "You sound surprised, not ungrateful." She was grateful she wasn't looking directly at him, her smile slightly embarrassed.

Her hand was there to rock into at first as she closed her teeth carefully around the mark she made and soothed it with her tongue. But the next drag of teeth was lower still as she started to slide his pants further off of his hips and her hand found his smalls. She rubbed him once and then moved her hand back just an inch or two to tease him. A feral smile followed as she hooked her fingers in his smallclothes.

His eyes kept trying to roll, focus harder to maintain by the moment. How could a mouth over his stomach have him aching so hard? It was every bit as enticing as her hand, a slow tease that had him fidgeting and trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to do with his hands. Holding to the rope was unsatisfying. He reached down to touch her, a light brush of fingers through her hair and a massaging squeeze against the back of her head.

"I was surprised. Pleasantly." His voice was thicker, dropped down to a more intimate register.

He half swallowed the moan that came with embarrassing ease. When he felt her pause, he met her gaze and nodded once. "Yes, please..." he murmured, not too proud to ask.

The touch of his fingers caught her attention immediately and she tilted her head back into his hand, a quiet hum slipping out against his lower stomach. She nodded, finally moving her hands back to remove as much of his clothing as she might dare, her fingers caressing over the bare skin shown to her.

Once he was exposed to her, she finally saw fit to look back up at him, giving him a faint smile. Her grip tightened on his hips, fingers digging into the fine muscle there as she looked on him. The first touch was simple, one hand straying down to simply cup him gently and glide her thumb over the tip. She shifted her stance enough so shouldn't need to do so again, dipping her head. She exhaled purposefully, spilling warmth over him.

She was beautiful, something he had noticed on many occasions in a more abstract, detached way. Now it was close and intimate, every one of those caresses of lips and fingers having him shivering, skin sensitive and reactive. It was all the more so from being touched so rarely and almost never there, a vulnerable place he didn't typically expose in the presence of others.

He held his breath, lower lip worried between his teeth. His erection leaped gently forward into her touch, another harder twitch from the passage of her thumb. When he felt her breath he could no longer hold his own. It came out in bare vocalization, a sound softer than the steady chop of waves against the sides of the boat. His toes curled against the soles of his boots.

She wasn't altogether certain he had made any sort of sound, though she glanced up at him once. Her eyes went back to the task at hand as she loosely gripped him, stroking him once, twice for good measure. But then she was putting her mouth to good use, taking him in just past her lips. Her tongue swiped the head of him gently first, and then again with a bit more force to gauge which one would give her the better reaction.

One hand stayed at his hip to anchor herself, fingers digging in and massaging tense muscle. The other continued to stroke him in slow, careful measures, motions in time with the way her mouth moved. Carefully, she took more of him in, one inch at a time.

He kept his desire to rock forward into her hold partially in check. He couldn't bring himself to be quite that lewd. He wasn't that far gone. It didn't stop the smaller contractions of muscle, the subtle presses. His head tipped back abruptly against the mast with the first touch of her mouth. The groan that followed was completely audible. His hand at the back of her head clenched in her hair.

He continued gasping past parted lips, ragged breaths that he had to fight to keep from turning into moans. It was embarrassing to be reduced to this so quickly. Had she felt the same way earlier? Oh, Maker, he hoped so. He wouldn't want to be the only one. The control keeping him from thrusting forward felt as though it was eroding by the moment.

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