Are you going to take me home tonight
Down beside that red firelight?
"Ooh, kitten, where did you get these?" Isabella purred over the open box of chocolates and plucked one out, and moaned at the sweet rich creamy candy.
"Don't really know. The confectioner's son ran up to me in the market and said that he was given twenty silvers to make sure these got to me. Mmm, the ones covered in chopped sugared nuts, those are just wrong."
"No wonder my people never camp too close to cities," Merrill licked at the chocolate on her fingertips, "If we lived too close to these, we'd never stop eating them!"
Fenris and Anders shook their heads and looked back at their cards, each forming strategies in their head to try and win back their coin from the smug dwarf at the head of the table.
Sebastian didn't even care about the terrible hand he pretended to play. All he could see were her soft lips pressing against the round brown chocolates and then he felt his ears tinge warm and color rise in his cheeks as he watched her eyes close and her voice sigh in delight. Hawke leaned back in her chair and Sebastian was happy that he couldn't see her collarbone jut out from the low neckline of her robes.
"Oh, Maker, these are going to go straight to my thighs." Impossible, he thought, not with all those romps to the Coast and weeks climbing up to Sundermount, her thighs were strong. But her hips were rounder and Sebastian wanted nothing more than to crash into them again and again and fill his hands with the curve of her backside and die in the warmth of her rounder breasts and he just might if she ohhh-
Hawke leaned forward to take another chocolate from the box and her robes-not her usual ones, these were larger in the chest and worn and he guessed they probably belonged to her late sister Bethany and they gave him the most magnificent view of the curve of her breasts and-
"Hey. Choir Boy! Stop drooling and ante up," Varric's voice cracked him out of his stupor and Sebastian snatched up his goblet to do something anything with his mouth other than let it gape open.
Hawke's gray eyes snapped open and caught his, and she arched a slender black eyebrow.
The midday sun was beating down on the frail nobles in Hightown, the women with their scented handkerchiefs doused in cold water and the men fanning themselves with their caps. Hawke wiped at her temples with a sleeve, scanning the Chanter's Board, which had been picked clean. Not that she ineeded/i the money, but a few spare silver would come in handy to get some more runes added to the new robes she had to buy. She was convinced that the blighted Kirkwall summer was making her eat more iced cream to stay cool.
And then, there was a waft of smoky salt, and her head tilted back at the memory of her parents taking turns watching the roast and turning the spit. Carver would always sit right in front, constantly asking if it was done yet. And then he'd eat half the damned roast.
She sniffed. Rosemary. She sniffed the air again. Black pepper, garlic, and . . . hickory. Her stomach grumbled at the combination, and Hawke turned away from the board and sought out the street vendor in the corner. "Maker, it smells like Ferelden." She smiled at the skewers of meat cooking over the open flame, and reached for the purse at her belt.
"Allow me, Hawke." A voice curled up behind her like the smoke grom the grill. He smiled at the merchant, asked for three pieces, and paid well for them.
"Oh, no, Sebastian. I couldn't." Hawke blushed and looked away from the sizzling meat he held up to her.
"I insist, messere." He reached into some part of him and pulled out a smile that he knew would draw out the dimple in his left cheek, the one that the maidens at Arrow's Rest couldn't resist.
And neither did she. "Well, then. If you insist," her soft fingers brushed his as she took a wooden skewer from him, and her gray eyes closed and she leaned back a little at the taste of home.
He was pleased to see her eating well again - not long after she had come back from the Deep Roads she suffered from the tragedy of the loss of her mother and she was almost gaunt with grief. And then she got more accustomed to the leisure of Hightown, and her robes tortured him when they were pulled tight against the curve of her ass and the swell of her breasts.
Those breasts that were heaving now, with a slight sheen of sweat, and the imoan/i from her lips as she savored the treat and for a split second Sebastian saw his cock between those lips, his hand cupping her rounder cheeks as she sucked him-
"Shit!" The last skewer fell towards the ground, but Homer seemed to appear out of nowhere and nearly swallowed it whole, stick and all.
"Waste not, want not, your highness," Hawke quipped in between licks of her lingers and Sebastian busied himself with the detail in the mabari's collar to keep himself from staring. "Mm. Thank you. That was delightful."
The archer stifled a moan. "The pleasure was all mine, my lady." He stood up straight and offered her his arm.
Inspired by a prompt on the kmeme and the legendary Freddie Mercury.
"Mage f!Hawke puts on some weight. It's not an unhealthy amount but enough to be noticed if someone was looking closely. Pudgy belly, larger thighs, bigger butt, fuller breasts, the whole shebang. Sebastian notices and he likes it, a lot."