romdeau | a fishing date;

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.

She chuckled against his lips. "I'm already being a bad influence on you."

Her fingers wound their way into his curls, her body stiffening and then relaxing under his touch. His earlier attentions had only served to make her all the more sensitive but she was eager for the touch, for his lips across her skin. Damn him, the tease.

She resolved not to tilt her hips against him when he said that, biting back a sound at the invitation. He truly was going to be her undoing with that offer, even with him so shy about it. Her toes curled at the imagery. She cupped the back of his head to get his attention and she nodded. "You needn't ask," she murmured.

He pressed his lips together a moment and hazarded a glance up at her. "Oh...no. I...I definitely needed to ask." He made a breathy sound, something akin to a small laugh. He caressed his thumb along her hip.

He inhaled as though to speak again, seemed to think better of it, and leaned to press a light kiss atop soft, springy hair. Reaching up, he encouraged her hands to his shoulders so that she could brace herself. He slid one hand down the front of her thigh, his thumb at the inner curve to encourage her to part her legs slightly.

His breath hitched as he pressed close, nose directly against her and tongue in a soft lap against her cleft. He gave a shaky exhale, and again his tongue found her, hot, and wet, and thrusting further back. He gasped at the first real taste, his eyes sliding shut.

She had to remember that not just the man who'd managed to have her moaning and shivering minutes ago but also the one she had blushing in the Gallows at the mere mention of wanting him. It had her smiling again with genuine fondness and amusement, and she smoothed a hand across his cheek to reassure him.

Following his directions, she set her hands on his shoulders and watched him make his way down. Her leg muscles tensed as she parted them for him, anticipation coiling within her while his mouth drifted lower and lower still, finally against her.

It was here that she tensed, the wetness of his tongue surprising her and the warmth of his breath ghosting over her. She gasped with him, fingers tightening on his shoulders as the sound turned into a hum and then a quiet moan.

The touch to his cheek eased any residual concern he had in making such an intimate request. He would never be comfortable assuming more familiarity than he had with another. It was good to feel it was welcome.

He would never have guessed her voice could be so throaty, usually high and clear. Or that either of them could give over to this level of abandon without a lot more coaxing. Perhaps long familiarity had him trusting her more than he had realized, and vice versa. Those thoughts quickly faded.

He used both thumbs to spread her a little wider and give himself better access with his mouth. Taking his time, he found the small, hard nub of flesh he had been stroking with his thumb and teased it past his lips with light suction. He flicked gently with his tongue, released, and plunged back deeper again. He moaned when he managed to part her lips and get a real taste. Maker's breath, she was good. He wanted more.

If she had wanted to deny him, she wouldn't have been able to. He'd teased her to the point of madness earlier and now she had little choice but to want him between her legs, though it had been a long, long time since she'd let someone indulge her like this.

The slow movements of his tongue gave way to his lips, her thighs shivering as he sucked and then moved his tongue further. His ministrations coaxed more sounds from her throat, quiet whimpers she would never allow to be heard under other circumstances. He was distracting her enough that her hands alternated between squeezing his shoulders tightly and allowing her fingers to rub small circles into his muscles, never stilling for more than a few moments.

Her lips parted unconsciously and she closed her eyes. She fought to control her breathing at the very least, a battle she was slowly losing to his touches.

He didn't want to be cruel. He knew that standing there was likely becoming more difficult by the moment. He could feel the tremors in her legs, the way the tension built in the way she touched him. He indulged a final taste, planted a gentle kiss to her lower stomach, and reached up for her.

"Come down to me," he murmured. "I don't want to wait any longer." She had him on fire. There was no way he could be any more ready than he already was. He coaxed with hands and arms, stroking her and drawing her closer. His eyes were heavy lidded and very dark beneath the shadow of his brow.

She would need to remember to tell him later that there probably wasn't a soul in Thedas who could have refused him when he looked like that, his gaze dark and almost unreadable. She shivered as he pulled away from her, though he wasn't far enough for him to miss his touch. Hawke moved right back into his embrace without a second thought.

Her hands stayed on his shoulders as she stepped against the bench, her legs framing his. Carefully, she took up her place again in his lap and she dipped her head to kiss him hungrily.

He was unselfconscious in the noise he made into the kiss, a desperate little, "Mnhh," that was devoured between them. The hand that lifted into her hair clenched tightly. He shifted the hold once to keep from pulling too hard near her scalp, all the while offering her the taste of herself on his lips and tongue.

Without the clothes, he felt everywhere she touched him as immediate heat. He shivered hard, his free arm slipping around her lower back to squeeze her in against him. He made no immediate move to take her, however, wanting to give her the chance to find the position best for her first.

She could taste herself on him and the thought of that alone was enough to have her moaning into his mouth. Her hand cupped the back of his head, an oddly gentle gesture for the way she was having his mouth. Her teeth tugged at his lower lip only once, pleased at the sounds he was responding with.

The hard line of the muscles on his chest brushed her stomach as she situated herself, looking for what would be most comfortable and weighing the options against what would be more practical of a position. Kneeling on the bench itself seemed best, damn the minor discomfort; it would be worth it to be in the better position to have him, she could tell. And if she couldn't hold herself up, the strong arm at her back said he wouldn't let anything happen to her.

"If you get too uncomfortable, tell me," he murmured. He knew they had some limited options available to them for shifting around if they needed to.

He peppered a few more kisses across her midriff and leaned back a little to give her room to settle. Every time he was against her and had to pull away, the air seemed colder in the contrast. He knew that when she came down to him, there'd be no more drawing away for some time.

She nodded against his lips as she knelt, straddling him, and she pressed another lingering kiss to the side of his mouth. One hand reached between them to glide over his erection, sliding down his length. Nimble fingers drifted down to the base and then back up, her lips curving upwards in the dark. She gripped him loosely and stroked, her fingers memorizing his size.

Her other hand slid down to part her own folds and slide two fingers inside, making certain she was stretched enough for him. He'd done more than an adequate job of preparing her earlier and she was embarrassingly wet; had there been any traces of light still out, she probably would be red from the thought.

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