romdeau | a fishing date;

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.

He tipped his head up for the kiss and bit his lower lip to stifle the groan that came the moment her fingers touched his length. It leaped against her hand of its own accord, nothing he could direct or control. He was too aroused for that. The best he could do was to keep his hips still, and that was difficult.

He swallowed audibly and lifted a hand to her shoulder to brace her. His grip was almost too tight, anticipation knotting him all over.

As compelling of an idea as it was to potentially stop and simply tease him mercilessly, she was growing too impatient on her own. But she kept at it, simply wanting to hear those sounds he made, her eyes drawn to the way his hips were moving on their own. "You're quite a sight like that, you know," she whispered appreciatively, lips lingering near his jaw.

She pressed another kiss at his chin, his stubble brushing her lips, and then released him. Her touch lingered only so she would feel him as she lowered herself and she stopped only when he brushed her entrance.

With a shaky exhale, she lowered herself further until she had him inside. She tensed almost immediately as she drew him in, inch by inch.

"Half out of my mind?" he asked, his voice thick and rough in arousal. He snorted a soft breath, not quite a laugh. He could imagine. He was so taut that he was shaken off and on by small quivers of muscle, particularly when she stroked downward. She spread wetness along his shaft, the sensation having him hissing softly through his teeth. She truly could drive him the rest of the way insane if she kept that up.

"Ahh...Maker's breath..." His head tipped forward, his forehead against the side of her head and chin digging against the top of her shoulder. His eyes shut and rolled back beneath the lids. As hard as it was, he let her come to him, let her set the pace of how quickly she'd take him in and how far. She was so wet, liquid heat all around him. He pressed clumsy kisses to the side of her throat and tried to remember how to breathe.

She chuckled softly, eyes meeting his. "You say that like it's a bad look." It was something she'd want to remember, certainly. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen someone so undone because of something she was doing. It made her shiver with anticipation for what was to come and it made her wish she could rush to have him, though their positions wouldn't allow for that kind of carelessness. Another time, perhaps.

Her breathing was shaky at best as she lowered herself, her body pulled taut with the raw feeling within her. She didn't rush, much as she would have liked to, and eventually seated herself with him sheathed inside her. That last inch had her gasping tightly and she clutched him close, arching into his lips as she accommodated him.

"Not like I can see it," he said, humor touching the words. He didn't want to give any more thought to how he might look, not with her right in front of him in his arms, her eyes intent and catching starlight.

Although he kept his hips and thighs still, nothing could stop the way his erection leaped and pulsed, every slow inch taken another moment he was so pinned by pleasure he could hardly breathe. He wrapped both arms around her, holding her close against the support of his chest. There was no way she was going to tip back or to the side, not even if they had the boat pitching. He intended to see to that.

He kissed her hard, raw want undisguised. He dragged his teeth along her lower lip only to go back to tease them apart with his tongue. He felt the slow glide stop and knew she had taken him in fully. Carefully, he flexed his thighs, a subtle contraction of muscles that pushed him up from beneath her.

Her body relaxed around him and in his arms, and she could have stayed that way if her desire didn't roll through her in waves, a need that needed to be satisfied. Moving would require more effort than she wanted to give at the moment, her attentions divided between the feel of him inside of her and the way he was taking her mouth. She smothered a moan into his mouth and rolled her hips upwards only by a fraction of an inch, not enough to separate them by any means. It added to the friction and she shivered.

She sharply exhaled against his lips as he pressed up into her. "Oh--" she stuttered, the sound slightly higher in pitch than she had intended. She swallowed the sound and eventually coaxed herself into moving, raising herself up by one, two, three inches and then lowering herself once more. When she attempted the same maneuver twice, the pace had quickened, and she kissed him hungrily. Maker, she couldn't get enough.

The kiss deepened to a jaw working twining of tongues. He was no quieter than she, worked up enough that he had spent much of his control in just getting to this point. Lower moans interspersed with her higher sounds. One hand shifted up her back to the back of her head, pressing her into him. He kissed her until his lips felt swollen and no breath taken through his nostrils was enough, only then breaking it for a gasp.

He found a rhythm with her, bending his legs to get his feet in closer beneath him for better leverage. He rocked up hard enough nearly to lift himself from the bench and didn't think twice about the friction burn they'd both have in different places before all was said and done.

He had no idea what time it was or how long they had been doing this. A faint glow at the horizon heralded moonrise, not dawn, though. They would soon be seeing a good deal better as it was waxing toward full.

There was barely enough coherent thought for her to hold onto, nothing that would stand more than a few seconds between them. He was intoxicating, testing every last piece of her willpower as he matched her rhythm and left her breathless in more ways than one. She needed to keep moving, despite the tight ache that was blooming in her. He'd worked her long enough to leave her almost over-stimulated; every upwards press of his hips had her matching him, the effort and feeling making her crack under the pressure.

He rocked up and she gasped, digging her fingers into his arms. She was far from hurting as she answered with a sharp dip of her own, her thighs quivering with the strain. She wasn't about to regret it, though she knew she wouldn't hold out much longer.

Lips attached to his jaw and then his throat, laving small circles of tongue in between breathy moans. She rocked against him and whimpered.

Having every thrust met, feeling her straining against him easily as hard as he gave him the freedom to ride the pleasure without worry that it was too much or too soon. He shifted his hold to allow more movement, hands encouraging her down on him in several hard, twisting grinds.

He tipped his head, lips brushing her cheek and temple, wherever he could reach. He wasn't sure how long he would last. The slow build had both of them so near frantic that it was just a matter of wringing as much pleasure from the moment as possible with little thought of holding out or prolonging it.

"Am I going to need to pull out?" he asked breathlessly. Belatedly it occurred to him that there was one concern they couldn't afford to ignore, no matter how good everything felt right then.

Her knees pressed into his hips and she let him guide her as she moved over him. Every thrust was met with one of her own, hips moving in time. The pleasure mounted within her and she welcomed it gladly, pressing against him and gasping into his neck. She focused on that alone, on the fullness within her and the hot spike that came with it, that when he spoke, she almost didn't realize what he had said.

"Hm?" she muttered against his neck between exhales, her body commanding her to keep going even as she grasped what he had said. Maker damn it all. She groaned, this time out of frustration, and straightened herself. She was so damn close and she had forgotten to ask Anders for anything. She hadn't been with anyone in so long, she hadn't thought--

"Shit," she whispered against him. That was going to be a problem. Her hands tightened on his arms. "Yes, you are." A fleeting look of sympathy snuck into her gaze and she kissed him. "Sorry."

He made the faintest noise, a groan cut off before it could form, and nodded. He smiled against her lips and returned the kiss. "It's all right," he murmured. "No need for sorry."

It forced him to focus more on his own body awareness, to slow some of the mad race he had indulged toward release. He drew in a shaky breath. His hands dropped lower, cupping firm curves as she lifted and fell over him with the flex of her legs. "Keep going." He kissed her throat, lips and tongue in a trail down toward her collar bone.

Although he slowed his thrusting, it was no less powerful, a full body roll of controlled movement against and beneath her. Reaching a hand between them, he loosely curled his fist against his thigh and offered her the jut of his thumb knuckle to rub against.

She smiled right back, embarrassed by her own stupidity, and kissed him in thanks. The first peck was gentle, the second press of lips coaxing a deeper reaction. At the very least, she could let him enjoy himself, even if he would need to eventually pull out.

Her hips slowed in their movements, drawing things out just a little longer for the both of them. It wouldn't last, the both of them too impatient for it, but she could alleviate what she could. Her hands moved to rest on his chest and stroke downwards, fondling sure and strong muscles in the wake of her fingers. Hawke offered him another look of gratitude and a kiss beneath his ear as he pressed his knuckle close, and she took advantage of it. Her hand cupped his and guided him to where she needed his finger, and she pressed close. The movement of her hips allowed her to do most of the work on herself and soon she was back to making sounds of desperation against him, want filling her.

It didn't take long before she felt the pressure mount again. She shuddered against him, a prelude to what was to come. She pressed herself down onto him and hissed. "I'm not-- Mmh, I'm close..." She rubbed herself against him in a bid for further friction.

He hummed softly into the kiss, all too easily drawn in deeper. His breath still came in quick, harsh gasps, preventing him from being able to stay in it for long without opening his mouth further for an inhale around the contact.

He arched his back slightly to press against the stroking of her hands, eyelids half closing at the tingle in the wake of warm fingers. He braced her with his other arm, hand against her back to keep her steady across his lap when her movements became jerkier. "Mmnh...Maker yes," he whispered as soon as he could feel the change.

"It's all right. I won't...I won't lose control. You can let go." He couldn't promise that he wouldn't need to pull out shortly afterward. He did know he could hold it until she had the chance to take her pleasure of him. He turned his head, lipping at her earlobe and giving a soft roll of tongue.

She didn't trust herself at this point to stay steady, even in the powerful grip of his hands, and she wrapped an arm around his shoulders to hold herself close. She couldn't breathe right for this, not at this point. It was all too much.

Body leaning into his, she moaned his name softly beneath his ear and tensed, doing as he bid her. Her breath broke from her lungs in a stuttered gasp, her body giving a full shudder in response. She tightened around him in pulses of muscles, growing taut and releasing again and again as she the climax crested. Tightly gripping him, she slowed the movements of her body only enough so she could ride the feeling out and lay herself entirely at the mercy of the sensations.

Her hips didn't still even after all of that, though the movements were much slower. The ache in her muscles began to register, a dull and warm throb, pleasant enough to contrast the sharp tips of her muted desire.

It hit him that he could see much better, something that had been creeping into his awareness on a subliminal level for a few minutes now. Everything was awash in blue white, the dark jags of her hair so close to his face, the curve of her ear and cheek, her neck and shoulder. He held her close in the one wrapped arm, not daring to pull his hand away while she was taking such enjoyment of it.

He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, as ragged as it could be, low sounds escaping. He hadn't thought she could grip him any tighter. He had been wrong. He bit his lip near to blood to avoid having to withdraw too soon.

"Andraste's pyre," he groaned, turning his face inward against her throat. When he had thought of kissing her that night, he hadn't allowed his thoughts to take it out to this conclusion. Even if he had, his imagination wouldn't have done her justice. He stilled while she shifted slowly, knowing that if both of them were moving at the same time, he'd lose the fragile thread of his control.

She sighed against him, into his body and into his touch. Hyper-aware of her own needs, she hadn't thought much beyond them until his muttered curse into her neck. Cracking a brief smile, she slowed herself further and settled her free hand over his to nudge it away. Her body would keep responding, sensitive as it was, until she was nothing but a quivering mess. Her legs were still trembling with each clench of inner muscle around him, enough that she'd come away feeling sore indeed.

Breathing heavily, she turned to look at him, his skin pale in the faint moonlight. She couldn't see his eyes from the angle she was in but she was struck by how absolutely candid and unguarded he looked, pressed into her. It took her by surprise, hand closing over his briefly. She pressed her nose in close to his ear and dragged her lips beneath it.

As her hips nearly slowed to a languid crawl, she turned to him with a hand running down his arm. "Your pace," she murmured softly, her voice wavering once. She gave him a smile, one of those overly confident and brash looks that she carried with her into fights, and squeezed his arm.

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Power outages suck.

Oh, ick.

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