romdeau | a fishing date;

"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.

He wrapped his arm further around her waist for a better hold, his cheek sliding against her jaw as his chin came to rest atop her shoulder. His breath stirred her hair on each harsh exhale.

He angled his hand to give her his fingers to rub against, thumb pressing up against her soft cleft. Her reactions had him feeling hot all over, deep twinges of pleasure straining him against the inside of his breeches. He realized that in some small way he was enjoying the constraint of their position. It was forcing them to take it somewhat slowly and be more creative than just ripping each others' clothes off and going at it.

As maddening as his touch already was, this was even worse. Now he was wrapped around her, hand against her, and - Maker damn him - she couldn't get enough of him. She set the pace for herself and though she could have moved quicker, she willed herself to be slower, teasing the both of them. His fingers were long and rough enough to add to the experience and she repressed a shudder against him.

His thumb was perfectly positioned and she whimpered softly, ducking her head to put her lips to his neck in a vain attempt to smother the noises he was drawing out of her. She exhaled into his throat between small nips and kisses.

He felt the tension in her, coiled in the way she rocked and squeezed him with her thighs. When he could tell he had his thumb centered, he kept it there and rubbed a small, tight circle. He cupped his middle and index finger to give her a teasing sensation of almost penetration.

His head tipped to the side and back of its own volition to expose his throat to her more fully. The pulse in his neck thrummed fast and strong, a tangible beat just beneath the skin. He squeezed his eyes shut. Those little noises of hers were going to be his undoing.

She rubbed herself against his fingers, a quiet groan building in her throat. It was too close, almost too much to feel. But she reveled in it just the same, her lips closing over his pulse for a moment. Heart beating as quickly as hers, she smiled and pressed her hips a bit more deliberately against his fingers. One of them was going to give in soon enough and she had a good feeling that it would be her. She pressed another lingering kiss to his neck for that.

Remembering dimly that neither of them could have marks where others would see, she released his throat...and found a much more suitable spot on his shoulder, her teeth grazing his skin. His armor would hide most things here, wouldn't it?

He wanted to make her feel good. When she rocked harder against him, he curved his fingers higher, slipping past soft skin to slickness. He shuddered once, his arm around her tightening enough that his fingertips dug into muscle.

He gave the softest of groans at the first touch of her teeth, tacit permission for her to be rougher if she chose. That low down, he knew no one would see it even if all he wore was a tunic and not full armor.

He didn't know how much more of this he could take, the furtive breaths and moans, the two of them pressed tightly. He squirmed a little to ease the pressure from his breeches, laces pulled taut.

Hawke's breathing grew shorter, her eyes closing against the feeling of his fingers. He was going to be her undoing, just like that, and his name slipped out before she had the chance to silence herself.

Her lips closed over a bit of his skin, pleased with the compliance he gave her, and she rolled her hips forward into his hand. The small space between them gave them little room to work with but it allowed her to drink in the warmth of his body and the way he tensed against her.

On the next pass, she gasped as his fingers brushed against her once more, the muscles of her legs tightening and shuddering. She swallowed her moan and kissed his shoulder once more, tongue laving the growing red spot beneath her lips.

He realized there was a lot he'd do to coax his name from her lips like that. Every time she said it, it brought with it a physical sensation of warmth from the chest downward. "Yes," he gasped, a little startled to hear himself say it aloud.

As she pushed forward, he worked his fingers deeper, his wrist strong and allowing him full control of his position. His breath hissed through his teeth. She felt tight and wet around the two fingers. He wondered how she'd taste, how she'd feel atop him.

Before he knew it he was moaning again. His shoulder muscle shifted beneath his skin as he pressed into the slow kiss. He didn't care if it meant he'd have a mark. It would be something to look at over the next few days and remember this by.

She felt too warm, too tight, but it was so inherently easy to shift herself just enough to have his fingers deeper still. It sent small shivers through her spine while heat pooled in her belly, seemingly draining into her lower limbs.

The moans in her ear only served to arouse her further, body leaning into his chest and into his fingers. Every sound he gave was further confirmation of his own undoing and her body reacted to it; her muscles clenched around his fingers as he hissed, which only coaxed a moan out of her into his shoulder. Maker, she wouldn't be able to keep this up if he kept doing that.

Her teeth closed around a small patch of skin, worrying it. She wouldn't bite down hard enough to bruise, though she swiped her tongue across the mark just the same. By the time she was finished, it was raised and red, possibly smarting, and she simply smiled lazily at her handiwork.

It seemed to him everything they did was more intense for the limited space, small movements no less powerful for the lack of scope. He twisted his fingers slightly on each inward thrust and continued rubbing slow circles with his thumb.

His awareness had centered down to how she felt against him, the choppy sounds of their breaths interspersed with desperate, furtive vocalizations, the delicious sting of teeth over his shoulder.

He kissed the side of her head, anywhere he could reach. He wanted her badly enough that it was an ache, sharp and visceral. He reached his free hand between them to tug at the laces of his breeches, hard, impatient jerks that were nothing like the way he handled hers.

"Maker..." She wasn't going to last long, not with the way he was twisting his fingers. She nearly gave a full-body shudder at one point, pressing into him needily, as if she couldn't get enough of him. She moaned into the joining of his shoulder and throat, closing her eyes and riding the sensations.

She turned her head as he began to work on his own trousers and she slipped a hand down to aid him. There wasn't enough in her to focus fully on the knots and she was shoddy help, but she could, at least, give him a little taste of what he was doing to her.

Her hand met the hardened bulge in his breeches, carefully palming him through the fabric. A little added incentive and a bit of a distraction wouldn't hurt him.

Turnabout was fair play. He wasn't so far gone that he didn't recognize the press of her hand for what it was. He smiled against her very briefly and murmured, "Keep that up, and I'll never get these open." He pressed his hand over the back of hers to hold it in place while he thrust up against her palm, a single strong jut of hips to let her feel not only what effect she was having on him but just how badly he wanted this.

Then he was back to pulling at the laces and forcing the fabric apart. He clamped a little harder with his fingers inside her, working in up to the third knuckle and stroking at slick inner walls. He whispered close to her ear, "Would you stand up for me?"

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