romdeau | a fishing date;

"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?"

She smirked. "Ah, that'd be a shame," she managed quietly. Maker, that thrust was terribly inviting and it was enough to make her ache. There was barely enough restraint left in her to keep herself from slipping her hand inside his breeches to feel him for herself, though she imagined that would be short in coming as it was. Just a little bit of patience...

Hawke arched into his hand with a gasp, her thighs shuddering under the pressure. She moaned her protests to his invitation, shooting him a look. "You're cruel," she teased, but she was nodding just the same.

"A method to the madness, I promise," he breathed. Reluctantly, he withdrew his hand to give her the room to do as he had asked. He was almost trembling with need. He knew he wouldn't be able to tolerate the withdrawal of the closeness for long and didn't intend to keep either of them waiting more than he had to.

He kissed her once, a hard, hungry kiss that crushed lips to lips. When he drew back it was on a low, frustrated vocalization. How had they gotten to this point so easily, he wondered.

She hissed softly as he took his hand away, her hips moving with his hand once. It took her a moment to get up onto her knees, first, her entire lower half beginning to feel like little more than putty after all of his attentions. She took his face in her hands as they kissed, all need and little care, her heart racing with it, and she drew back with just as much reluctance as he. Her eyes bore into his as she finally stood, careful not to trip on anything they'd discarded prior.

Now was as good a time as any to remove some of her clothes, starting with her boots, socks, and trousers at the very least. They'd only complicate matters after this. She nudged them to one side and hoped she'd be able to find them again in the darkness.

"You read my mind," he said when she started removing the clothing. It was exactly what he had intended to do. He helped brace her for the removal of the footwear. Once she started on her pants, he stood to pull his down. Sitting back down, he kicked off the pants and boots with a few shakes of his legs. The stray thought passed through his head that now would be the time for a dragon to swoop down or some raiders off the coast to stumble on them. That was the way his luck usually worked.

He could just see her, a pale shape against shadow, and reached for her to pull her closer. He ghosted kisses across her ribs and stomach. He knew he'd bring her back down to him soon. Not before taking advantage of the new position.

"That's me. Mind reader and stir stick," she quipped, peering down at the band around her chest that he'd pulled down. With a shrug, she reached behind her and unlaced it, pulling it off as well. It was thrown onto the small pile of her own clothes and she turned back to him to watch him undress. She managed a leer and a smirk as he shook his legs and she stepped back into his reach, pleased when he pulled her in.

Her body arched into his lips, the warmth of his breath spilling over her skin. She stretched on her toes, one foot at a time, to shake out the buzzing in her legs. A pleasant hum left her lips and she smoothed her hands over his shoulders around to the back of his neck, fingers dragging just beneath his hair.

"There's a potentially dangerous combination," he teased. He could feel her eyes on him in the darkness. It was a heady feeling. He knew how much he could see of her, features shadowed but not obscured.

"Are you getting too cramped?" he asked against her skin. He could feel the way she shifted. He had been too distracted to think of it before now. Both hands dragged slowly down her back with a scratch of nails. He shifted one back up to mid-back and let the other follow the curve of her lower back and across the side of her hip. He glanced up at her, head pressing back into her hand and chin resting against the gentle curve of her lower stomach. "Do you need to stand a little longer?"

She grinned. "I promise to use my gifts only for good, Knight-Captain. You have my word." As much as that was reliable, considering she killed on a regular basis.

Hawke shook her head, back straightening under his attentions. She smiled faintly and enjoyed the warmth of his hands across her skin and she threaded her fingers into his hair. "I'm all right," she promised. She only needed a moment; it would be better than locking up at a bad time and it gave her the chance to work out the restlessness in her body, though she ached to be back in his embrace entirely.

"Really? Now where...is the fun...in that?" he asked between kisses.

"Good." He turned his cheek to the side, brushing it against her stomach. As he slowly turned his head, he kissed along the cusp of her hipbone, back center, flirting just above the line of soft hair. His breath was warm, coming swift and shallow.

"I really...want..." The words faltered, cheeks blazing. It was beyond bold, what he wanted to say. At the same time, it wasn't the sort of thing just to spring on someone unawares. He took a deep breath, his hold of her tightening. "To ta...to taste you." His forehead pressed against her, and he realized he was holding his breath.

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