romdeau | a fishing date;

It had been some time since he had been with anyone this way or wanted to. It was almost as though he forgot about this side of himself until someone came along to awaken it again, always a surprise. Already he knew he liked those little hums, his lips stretching briefly in the fleetest of smiles.

He still wasn't completely satisfied with the position. He wanted her to be able to relax against him, more contact. In between halfway losing himself to the deep, brandy tinged kiss, he thought of where else they might be able to sit and how. He answered the twine of tongue languidly, drew back, and gently nipped her lower lip.

"How about if I sit on the bench?" It would mean she had to straddle his lap, which she might find to be more than she wanted in the moment, he knew, but he felt bad that she was left fighting for balance while he sat more securely.

One of them, at least, was thinking about their position. She was focused on other things, like his breathing and the way he tasted, the feel of his tongue and how he responded to her if she did one thing or another. They were meticulous little things, half-lost in the sensations, but all of them were stowed away for future use. There was always something honest and open in the way people came together like this and it allowed her to see sides of him she wasn't aware of.

Little by little, she'd know more about him, why every lingering kiss seemed deeper each time, and how every nip or slide of tongue was more sensual than the last. A little like a thief, she'd prize them away. She was already more than pleased with how things were progressing, her tongue answering his without shying away.

There was some reluctance when he pulled away, Hawke nearly leaning right after as he worried at her lip just briefly. She raised her eyes to his and then glanced down at them, eventually nodding. A hint of a smirk was left on her lips as she scooted back and then stood. "That might be a better idea," she agreed.

He watched her, a shadowed form with starlight behind, taking in the grace and balance of her movements. It had him feeling a little cumbersome when he slowly worked his way up to a stand. The skiff felt untrustworthy beneath his feet as he came up from a squat. He shifted his pack to the side and sat on the bench, offering her both hands to guide her back to him.

"Definitely a flat bottomed boat next time," he said with a low chuckle. "I didn't realize how much the sides would be in your way. I think you'll find this much better." He knew he would. It would put them mostly flush, no straining for contact and feeling the boat roll at every little shift of balance.

A smile followed him as he found his place on the bench, and she waited until he was ready and seated before moving again. She took his hands and let him guide her back to him, into his lap and straddling his hips. The position was easier to maintain and it even gave her a few inches leverage, allowing her better access to him.

She chuckled with him. "It's all right. Besides, this is surprisingly more comfortable." It beat straining sideways or forcing one of them into awkward positions.

"I thought it might be." It had her just a little higher than him when they were face to face. He liked the angle, leaning in for a soft, almost playful kiss. He rested both hands at the sides of her waist, a warm squeeze.

"I was so flustered that day we first met, when I had to start talking about the investigation. I had no idea who you were, what you'd think about a Templar having to spend time in the Rose. I had the sense you were laughing at me just a bit." He smiled his amusement and kissed her again, a little more heatedly, a little longer. He left his lips parted against hers, a nuzzling not quite kiss before drawing up and back. The whiskers of his chin scraped lightly.

She tilted her face downwards for him and curled two fingers beneath his chin, returning the kiss. She stayed close even when they parted, eyes glittering with mirth. "That's me, butting my nose into things I shouldn't be," she joked. She remembered that mess.

"I was less concerned about two Templars in the Rose and more about how the Knight-Captain was drawing his sword on a recruit," she said against his lips, looking at his eyes. "At first. Had I been in the same situation, I might have done the same." Any gravity fell away from her words when she nearly laughed. "You keep doing that," she muttered, leaning in for a brush of a kiss, thumb pressing briefly against his jaw. His stubble almost tickled but it was welcome friction against her cheek.

"I believe I said as much at the time," he said with a nod. "It was fortunate I was focused on the matter at hand, or it might have gotten uglier." It would have been a different sort of ugly than a recruit possessed by a demon. At least with demonic violence, he never felt guilty about sending them back to the Void.

"Oh, yes, you took me to task very thoroughly, Sera." He tipped his head in curiosity, unable to prevent the laugh joining hers. "Doing what?" He leaned into the touch as well as the kiss, feeling the spill of her breath across his lips.

"You did. And you weren't the first. Won't be the last, either." She could lose count how many people thought that way about her on a daily basis. She didn't bother worrying about it these days, which probably wasn't very smart, considering. At least she wasn't as nosy as Varric.

She smirked, bumping noses with him. "Did I?" she asked, nudging him slightly. "Your stubble, that's what." She cupped his cheek gently. "It keeps tickling me," she murmured beneath her breath, almost embarrassed to admit that. "But I do like it."

"I'd be disappointed if I were the last. Part of the fun of knowing you is hearing the wild stories that circulate. I think my favorite one to date is your fist fight with a high dragon," he teased.

He laughed easily. "Is it any better if I say it's not on purpose?" Of course, he had to ruin that claim almost immediately afterwards, jutting his chin to rub it against hers lightly. It was quite possible that under all the armor and the polish a brat lurked.

Almost within the same breath, he closed his lips over hers, tongue sweeping a tracery of the upper curve. His jaw worked as he opened his mouth a little more, taking it deeper. Both hands slid up from her waist across her back to draw her in close against him. He silently marveled at the contrast between softness in the press and the sinuous strength he could feel beneath his hands.

"Maker, I knew that one was going to get everyone talking." She shook her head, unable to keep the smile off of her face. "That's going to follow me into the next life, see if it doesn't. I don't think I'll ever be able to top that story no matter what I do."

She grinned as he leaned in, biting down on most of her laughter. She reached over with a hand to tug at his ear lobe gently. "Until you did that, yes," was teased softly in his ear.

It was all to easy to lean into the press of his body and let his hands roam her back, her head tilted into the kiss and mouth slightly parted. Her arm draped around his shoulders and her hand came up to cradle the back of his head, hopefully allowing him some ease as he lifted his face for her. Her lips closed around his and tugged once, tongue flicking out briefly to trace his bottom lip.

"That one would be a very hard one to top, yes." It was one of Varric's best stories to date, popular with Kirkwall's masses and elite alike. He had to wonder how many accepted it at face value. Among some of the refugees, hers was a name much larger than life.

He shivered lightly for that whisper and touch, more than ticklishness at play. His inhale through his nostrils was audible and quick.

It was back to eyes closed, losing himself in sensation. All of the little back and forths were gaining momentum in him, a slow burn on the rise. He made a soft noise when her hand settled in his hair and met the flick of her tongue with the tip of his. His fingers curved against her back in a harder press, the dig of short nails blunted through cloth.

"He'll find a way to overly exaggerate something else eventually." And Maker help her when that happened. She only hoped he'd do it if she ever left Kirkwall, so she wouldn't have to face the rumors head on around the city.

A wicked smile curved its way across her lips at that little admission of quickened breath. Her fingers lingered just a moment on his ear but she eventually released him even as her mind worked through some other ideas. She settled the hand back against his cheek, rough stubble beneath her palm.

Her tongue stroked the underside of his own, encouraging him. A quiet sound escaped her, an exhale and no more, at the press of his fingers against her muscles. With one last brief nip at his lip, she broke the kiss and ducked her head lower to kiss his jaw and further back beneath his ear. He had already tilted his head enough for her lips; now she could exploit it, sliding her lips against the side of his neck.

He tipped his head back just a little more, lips still parted. Maker's breath, but she was getting to him now. He hissed a breath through his teeth when she reached the spot beneath his ear and gave another shiver.

He wasn't completely passive for the attention, hands in a slow knead over her mid back. One lifted higher, following the curve of the nape of her neck and into her hair. "You're hair is soft," he murmured, a little surprised to find himself saying it aloud. He buried his fingers in it and stroked downward, letting it fall back to rest against her neck.

There. That was the reaction she was looking for. She contained the smug expression she was almost certain she was wearing as she continued down his throat, tongue flicking out from between her lips once or twice in her progress.

Hawke paused only once when his hands tangled into her hair, leaning back into his touch. Her answer was a smile and a softer kiss at his throat, followed by an almost contradictory nip at his collar. "I don't hear that too often," she teased against warm skin, hands finding his shoulders and kneading fingers into the muscle there.

He didn't have the benefit of a cuirass to hide the rise and fall of his chest, not that he was overly intent on masking his reactions from her. The second time she flicked her tongue was close to his pulse point. His exhale contained a trace of voice then.

"No? Good." There was a smile in his voice, even if she couldn't see it from the way his head was tilted. He didn't have any silly notions about being the only one she wanted to see when this was only a second date, but it was nice to know that perhaps he wasn't one in a thick crowd of contenders for her attentions.

"I'd hate to bore you with something you hear all the time." He turned to brush his cheek against the side of her head. "Especially given the fact that when silver tongues were being handed out, I wasn't even in the line. I'm lucky not to stutter these days." Although at times he still did if he was overly flummoxed.

"You manage well enough without one." It was murmured into his neck and she pressed another kiss there before she lifted her head, her expression almost lazy. She rolled her shoulders back into his one hand. "And the last person who told me my hair was soft was my mother, you know." People didn't typically get close enough and if they did, they were usually going for her throat.

And so she just gave him a simple shrug and a smile. "I can't imagine you stuttering, though." She wondered what she could do to see him in such a state. That was a goal worth chasing.

She ducked her head and brushed her cheek to his once more, enjoying the feel of the stubble he wore, and when she might have gone back to his throat, she turned instead to his ear. She locked her lips around the lob and tugged gently, hoping to garner another one of those sounds she liked.

"Oh, you say that now. Wait until you see me really flustered." He figured it would happen sooner or later. He merely hoped it wasn't in public when it did, as that always made it worse.

He smiled then, reaching up to tuck a lock of it behind her ear. "Mothers are wonderful for the flattery. No one will ever make you feel better, or worse when they're disappointed." If there was any sadness in the statement, it was mitigated by the warmth in his tone. He knew of her loss but also didn't intend to shy away from the topic or treat her with kid gloves because of it. There was much to be said for good memories.

"Spend enough time with me, and you won't have to imagine it. I was much worse when I was younger. I would've hardly been able to look you in the eyes."

She surprised him with that, getting more of a sound than she had managed yet, a quiet, "Mnnh..." He bit his lower lip. "Unfair," he said, his toes curling in his boots.

"You say that as if I don't want to see you stuttering or flustered. Just once, for the experience." Lying through her teeth with that one, obviously. She tried to imagine him red in the face and stuttering something almost incoherent and she couldn't help the faint grin that settled on her lips. She would definitely need to see it sometime.

Thoughts of her mother came heavy-handed with too many emotions and too many of them weren't fit to be expressed in public or to others. But she smiled just the same because he was absolutely right. She tilted her head into his fingers as she spoke. "It's a gift they have, I think. Perfect for guilting you into doing things and even better on the days you need a shoulder to lean on."

Hawke smiled against him, releasing his ear if only speak. "You did leave yourself open for it," she whispered slyly. She squeezed his shoulders tenderly.

"Mmhmm, just once," he said very dryly. There was no way he believed that. If he didn't already know her well enough to know she liked to stir a little trouble, the smile would have told him.

"It is," he agreed, "a wonderful gift," the warmth still in his voice. He didn't often allow himself to think of his family. When he did it was fondly.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, "did that sound like a complaint? It shouldn't have." He turned to press a kiss to her throat, warm and wet with the briefest tease of tongue tip. Higher, and he gave her a light scrape of his teeth just beneath her earlobe.

She didn't try to protest it. The look he had was enough. So instead, she just grinned and raised an eyebrow as if invite a challenge. "I promise to restrain myself when I visit the Gallows," she finally said. "But that's all I can promise."

Her fingers absently traced his shoulders, then dipped over to his back to find lines of muscle beneath his tunic. "Did your mother have a knack for guilting you too?" she asked. "My mother could get even my brother to duck his head with just a look. It never failed to quiet him, either."

She hummed, which turned into a tiny, threadbare chuckle as she felt the tip of his tongue. She turned her head for him, closing her eyes. "My mistake, then," she murmured absently.

"Then that's all I'll ask," he said with a half smile. Anything outside of work was fair game as far as he was concerned.

"Ridiculously. She just...there was this one look. Yes, exactly like that. It didn't even have to be head on. She could do it from the sides of her eyes." It was funny in hindsight. No matter how old he got or how "sophisticated" he thought he was, which was never very, the look never failed to bring him to heel.

He smiled against her, his eyes sliding shut as he continued the slow exploration of her throat, her reactions. He lipped her earlobe, giving a gentle tug, and followed along the outer shell, hoping for another of those sounds, or at least to have her as breathless as she was making him. One hand slid down to the small of her back to press her in close. He rocked up, little more than a slight flex of thighs and hips. It was getting harder to remain still beneath her.

"Oh, yes, I know exactly what look you're talking about. The look." It could never be used for one thing, either. It was simply there to make victims feel as a small as a thumb. "Mothers can be so frightening when they want to be," she muttered, amusement in her eyes.

It was a struggle to keep still under his mouth and his hands. Her ear was more sensitive than she realized and she shivered once, the warmth of his breath ghosting over the outer shell as he continued. A soft, surprised sound slipped out eventually with the roll of stronger hips beneath her and she bit at the side of her lip to cut it off, embarrassed.

Fingers dug briefly into his back and then worked in small circles, kneading. "Cullen," she whispered, a little breathless at the attention.

There was another of those small sounds, enough that he found himself voicing a deeper echo of it, too quick and breathless to be a moan. He felt just a little dizzy, and it had nothing to do with the ale or brandy. His name in that tone had his grip on her tightening, the hand in her hair dropping down to clutch across the back of her shoulder.

"If you want me to slow down or stop, tell me," he breathed. He had no plan, no idea where they were going with this other than the fact he felt more heated by the moment. He knew that at some point one or both of them would hit a place where they needed to decide whether to stop or go further.

"No," she replied quietly, resting easy in his grip. She shook her head and turned to look at him, hand going up to tip his chin up for her. She kissed him briefly, eyes meeting his. "Maker, no. You're fine," was whispered against his lips. No, this felt nice. It was surprising, too, how willing she was to lower her guard with him so far.

With the next kiss pressed to the side of his mouth, though, she paused. "The same for you, though," she said, gently. "If you want me to stop or slow things down, I will."

He tipped his head up readily to meet the kiss, a slight smile playing for the reassurance. He shivered at the next press and turned inward cheek to cheek. His lashes brushed the upper curve of her cheek when he blinked.

"I'm good," he murmured. He was far more comfortable with her than he had expected to be, with no desire for overthinking beyond wanting to be sure he wasn't bulling his way through something she might want time to consider. The corner of his mouth touched the corner of hers, and he parted his lips again.

He gave over to a full kiss, again and yet again, each time more fervent. He teased her lips apart for another twine of tongue to tongue and pressed up beneath her in another slow rock. His boot sole scudded a couple of inches over the planks.

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