romdeau | a fishing date;

She had to resolve herself not to let him continue, as tempting and thrilling as it was. Instead, she dipped a hand down to cup two fingers beneath his chin moments before she pressed her lips to his, a barely contained need to the gesture. Maker, that look he had was going to stay with her, she knew.

With her lips against his, she could drop her hands down to rest between them; one had fell to his chest and the other fell lower still. The latter pressed gently against his thigh. "You're going to drive me mad that way," she whispered against his lips, and she fully intended to let him know just how desperate he was making her with that mouth of his.

He answered the kiss fervently, brief, intense contact. His breath hissed through his nose from the warmth of her touch to his thigh. It took what residual self-control he had not to push more deliberately into it.

"Will it help to know it's not just you?" he asked. He pressed his forehead against hers, lips still parted and breath coming in choppy, shaky gasps. "I'm...Maker's breath, I can hardly think straight anymore."

She smiled just the same, catching his lips in hers and tugging deliberately on his lower lip only once. She didn't have the patience or the breath to keep him there, though her hand remained a consistent weight against him. That remaining ounce of restraint kept it there for now, not making any other untoward moves.

"So it's not just me," she teased warmly, bumping noses with him. Her hand opened and settled on his hip, squeezing gently.

"As if you couldn't tell." There was warm humor in his voice, mingled with the arousal that had his words thicker, softer.

He nuzzled against her without kissing her again, accepting the pause as a chance to regroup a little, regain breath and sense. He traced his fingertips down the curve of her spine, following muscle and bone and coming to rest at the waistband of her pants.

"I will say I didn't...plan...for this, but I'm not sorry for it. You're not cold, are you?"

She raised her eyebrows and could only smirk in response, though the edge of her expression was warmer and lazier than usual. She shrugged into his hold and kept close to the warmth of his body as she let her heart rate slow down just a little.

"For what it's worth, I didn't either," she said mildly. The curve of her lips softened, no longer so sharp in her amusement. "I'm not sorry either." Not with how things were going. He'd need to tell her if he'd rather back off or wait, though; it was his choice, as he had said before.

"I'm all right," she assured him. The edges of cold were pricking at her skin but it wasn't enough to chill her, not right then. "You?"

He smiled, his fingertips at her back in a light caress. "I'm glad. Glad you're not sorry, I mean."

He nodded, the nuzzling becoming kissing again. He lifted a hand to her cheek. "I can hardly feel the chill at all," he murmured against her lips. He was far too heated in other ways.

"Why would I be?" It had been her original intention, after all, to get them to this point. She wasn't sorry in the least, though she chided herself that it might be better to pick somewhere more comfortable when attempting to seduce him next time.

Cheek pressed into his hand, she leaned in and kissed him languidly. She smiled at the warm breath ghosting over her lips. "Good." She ran a hand once more down his chest, taking her time to simply feel him.

"Because we're in a boat?" He chuffed half a laugh, his grin ruefully amused. "That's something I have to admit I'm regretting just a little right now."

He pressed slightly into her touch, chest rising beneath her hand in a shaky inhale. "I don't...I don't want to stop."

"I'm not going to blame you for a small lack of foresight. I could just as easily say it was my fault for not waiting." As tantalizing as the thought was, though, she wouldn't have wanted to wait until they were back at the docks to drag him off somewhere. With her luck, Isabela would be waiting there and would see them.

She brushed their lips together once, her smile a little wider than before. "You don't have to," she murmured.

"We can always blame the brandy if we're desperate for a culprit." He reached up, his fingers teasing along the edges of the dark fringe of her hair. It wasn't true, though. He didn't have nearly enough alcohol in his system to change how he'd behave, and he was glad of it. If he was going to do something like this with her, he wanted it to be them, not booze talking.

He sucked a soft, swift inhale. "Good," he whispered. He ran his hand down her side and across the front of her waistband, testing by feel to see how her pants were fastened and whether this would be a matter of tugging on a few lacings or something more complicated.

"Oh, that brandy. Giving us ideas," she murmured, leaning into his fingers. She'd need to thank Isabela later for it. It was just the sort of thing to break the ice between them, though she probably could have held off on bringing it until some other time, when the both of them weren't in such confined spaces. Ah, well.

She leaned back just a bit so he could bring his hand across her waist, down to the lacings of her trousers. The only real issue was the belt and the pouches it held up; normally, they would hold a few traps and some picks, but they were mostly empty tonight. She hadn't thought to bring anything too important and what she had thought to keep were in her bag below deck.

"You were drunk that day, too, weren't you?" he teased. "Marian Hawke, Kirkwall's biggest lush."

He glanced down, the space between them deep in shadow. "Hmm. This may take a little while." He felt along the front of the belt until he found the buckle, braced one side of it in a secure hold, and unfastened it. He felt the leather brush against his lower stomach as it came free. "Anything in here I'll break if I let it drop?"

She laughed. "Second biggest lush, thank you. You should stop by the Hanged Man sometime; you'll meet the woman who truly holds that title."

Her hands slid downwards to brush over the pouches, her attempt at remembering what she'd stashed in them earlier and what she'd removed. "No, you can drop it," she replied after a moment, fingers ghosting over his hands. "I left all of my dangerous contraband at home," she gently teased.

"Second biggest lush. No, somehow that doesn't have nearly the same ring. Are you sure? Maybe the two of you could have a contest, settle it for once and for all?" He was wondering if he was about to be smacked, not that he wouldn't deserve it.

"Damn. There goes my clever plan to get you fully intoxicated and rifle through your belt pouches while you're sacked out in the bottom of the boat. I was so sure I'd find something incriminating, too." He dropped the belt off to the side, brushed his fingers over hers, and returned them to the lacing he could feel. "Now let's pray I don't pull knots into these instead of out of them since I can't see what I'm doing."

"Why? You want to watch?" Hawke leered at him, setting her elbow on his shoulder and putting her chin in her hand. "We'd have to invite Fenris too, you know. He can drink anyone under the table and I'd love to see how quickly he'd win against the three of us."

She grinned. "You can try next time. I'd welcome the challenge." If she didn't get him entirely drunk first. That was something she'd wait patiently for, if only to see his defenses go down. She smiled as he fumbled with the laces at her waist, doing her best to sit as still as possible. "We're bringing a light next time," she teased. "More space, a little more light."

"I might," he said, shooting her a grin. "If you're inviting him, that's who my money is on, though. Think he'd still do it if he knew he was earning himself a title?"

He hummed under his breath as though really considering it. "I'd have to bring rotgut to go with our boat theme. As for next time, I'll have to hire one of those fancy boats with a cabin. The only drawback is we'd probably need a crew, which means an inn would be a better bet. An inn on the water if you're going to insist on sea air." The entire time he was talking, he was carefully teasing out the ends of the lacings and tugging one by one. Each time he felt the give, he worked his hand between the fabric and parted it, his knuckles brushing her skin.

"He'd be so very cross about it but if Isabela even breathes that he's chickening out, he'll do it." Judging by the wicked smile on her lips, she was seriously contemplating the idea.

She had a few other things she could say, ideas in her head, but too many of them came to a screeching halt as she began to feel his fingers drifting lower on her skin, one lace untied at a time. Her stomach flexed inwards at the attention and if he could have seen it in the dark, her focus wavered for only a moment. "The sea isn't necessary. I'd be just as content with...something else." Dammit. She squeezed his shoulders gently to center herself on what she was saying. "An inn on the water doesn't sound so bad."

"If you let me know when this might be taking place, I could probably arrange an unofficial patrol for myself to be in the right place at the right time." The thought of it was amusing as long as he avoided direct participation. That was the last thing he wanted getting back to Meredith, the Knight-Captain in a drinking contest in The Hanged Man of all places.

"Something else? Like what?" There was a slight lilt to his voice as though he had caught on to her distraction. The way a finger dipped lower to skim the top of her small clothes almost cinched it. It was rare he felt like he had any sort of advantage in situations like this. He enjoyed the chance to tease her a little.

"Oh, yes. The Knight-Captain just so happened to hear about a ruckus going on nearby. Very convenient." It would have to be out timing. "About an hour or so before midnight, possibly. You could slip in and witness Kirkwall's finest group of lushes drink themselves red in the face."

All right, that was on purpose and she knew it. There would be no protest, however, though her answer was delayed by a few obvious seconds. "I was...going to say that something quieter would be just as welcome. I imagine you wouldn't want to make use of my place." It would be harder to slip around in Hightown, even at night.

"These things happen sometimes," he said. "It's not as though I'm discouraged from going above and beyond the call of duty in pursuit of Kirkwall's safety."

He thought about it as he tugged loose the final tie. "I'm well known among the guard. I imagine that would get right back to Aveline in no time flat." His gaze shifted, seeking out what he could see of her eyes. "I imagine that could in some ways be more trouble for you than for me." He kept his hand to the outside of the thinner cloth of her small clothes for now, fingers together and lightly cupping as he worked them past the part in her breeches.

"You're a right saint, Knight-Captain," she teased lightly. "Where would Kirkwall be without you?" That wasn't really a joke, to be fair; he was just as important to the city as Meredith, the former Viscount, and her.

Her hips brushed forward of their own accord before she could stop them and she hastily closed her mouth to keep any noise from slipping out until she was ready to speak. She found her voice easily enough. "Possibly. It would...depend, I suppose." It would always be down to timing, she suspected. Timing and luck. And knowing her, she'd probably have him in her bedroom and undressed, and then someone like Aveline or Varric would be waltzing in to speak with her or to coerce her to help take care of some trouble in the city.

"Probably about where it is anyway," he said. Only perhaps more under Meredith's thumb. He set that thought aside. Being distracted was much more important at the moment.

He drew a deep inhale, eyelids slipping to half mast. If feeling her sliding against him earlier had been heady, feeling her moving against his hand was completely intoxicating. "I don't want to cause you problems." He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, then remained cheek to cheek as he worked his hand back further. His breath hitched for the heat against his fingers. The cloth did very little to disguise it.

"Hightown is...a problem all its own," he murmured. It was getting harder to think about the topic at hand.

"You wouldn't," she murmured quietly, too distracted to elaborate much further. The muscles of her thighs tightened as she rocked against him and she pressed her cheek to his and closed her eyes to simply savor the feeling. Even with the fabric separating them, she could still feel the roughness of his fingers as he brushed her skin, the friction dizzying. Her breaths came shorter, close to his ear, and her fingers curled around his shoulders.

There was little else she could do except nod in agreement about Hightown. Too many people, too many places to be spotted, the Chantry within a stone's throwing distance. "Unfortunately," she whispered. It would be so much easier if it wasn't an issue.

"I hope not." The whisper was so quiet he wasn't sure it carried. He felt himself becoming breathless again. The brief lull only served to heighten his reactions now that they had taken it further still. He licked his lips once, his mouth feeling dry.

"Yes," he agreed. He hooked his thumb in the top of the thin cloth and tugged it down enough for him to work his fingers inside. "Ohh, Maker..." His free hand tightened against the side of her hip to steady her. His breath spilled quickly across her jaw.

It was a lucky thing that he thought to hold her there; as it was, the moment he pressed his fingers to her, she straightened like an arrow in his lap and could very well have jostled the both of them with her sudden movement. "Oh," she whispered on an inhale, which was so very eloquent of her.

Her hips pressed forward, eager through her sensitivity, and she let out the breath she was holding.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject