anonymous asked: 46 - "Hey, have you seen the..? Oh." - Sebastian and Hawke (maybe a little naughty)

"You're here - at midday?"

In their shared rooms, Hawke looked up from her book and smiled, pressing a finger to her lips to shush him. "I'm hiding from Lady MacLendon. She's been hounding me all day about preparations for the Antivan delegation's arrival, so I ducked in here to get some peace for a while." She tucked a length of ribbon between the pages before putting the book aside. "What about you?"

Sebastian winced as he rolled his left shoulder. "I seem to have done something to anger my back. I'm afraid it might have been yesterday's archery practice."

" 'Practice' my ass," Hawke smirked. "You practically made the guardsmen shit themselves. Good to see the prince hasn't lost his touch for pulling off shots that would impress Andraste herself."

With a chuckle, said prince began to unbutton his embroidered collar. "After some of the adventures you led me through in Kirkwall? Maker, were my skills honed to a fine point."

"Shooting a mage in the palm from a hundred paces- "

"In Darktown once, a single vial off of a shelf- "

"A piece of parchment to a Chantry board?"

Hawke tried to look nonchalant, but caught Sebastian's smile as he turned to their bedside table.

"Aye," he agreed. "That as well."

He rummaged around in the drawer for a short while, the fruitless shuffling and clacking drawing Hawke's attention. She shifted in her chair, craning her neck to get a better look.

"What are you searching for?"

"The Antivan warming oil," he replied, pushing aside a few papers. "It works wonders on sore wrists and knees, and I had hoped to make use of it on my back, if you would assist." Frowning, he straightened and turned back to her. "Have you seen the – Oh."

Hawke was holding up a glass vial about half-filled, and as she tilted it, the thick amber liquid inside coated the sides.

"This?"

"Aye, that." He crossed the room, taking it from her outstretched hand. "But why do you have it?" He turned to undress, and Hawke followed, observing as she leaned against their bedpost.

"Well, we don't always use it for sore muscles, do we?"

A wicked smirk tugged at his mouth as his fingers undid toggles down the length of his chest. "No. We most certainly do not." A thought struck him, and he raised his head. "Wait, you use it... alone? When you..."

He trailed off, and Hawke met his stare, wearing her amusement plainly on her face. "Yes. Problem?"

Suddenly interested, he let his hands abandon their work. "Come to think of it, I can't recall ever seeing you in the act."

She raised an eyebrow. "Because it's usually on nights when you were trapped in meetings or audiences with the Banns until all hours – you know, ruling things. Or moments when I just needed a bit of stress relief."

"Moments," he prodded, advancing on her, "like these?"

She stared up at him defiantly as his hands settled on her hips. "Maybe."

He chuckled, leaning in to press his cheek against hers. "Tell me," he murmured. "What were you planning to do with that oil, had I not walked in?"

"You mean before I was so rudely interrupted?"

"I have no intention," his mouth moved to her lips, "of interrupting."

She inhaled sharply as his tongue met hers, one hand releasing her hip to brace them both against the bedpost supporting her. The carved wood pressed into her spine, but was ignored in favor of chasing the searing heat that was being offered to her in the shape of a very insistent prince. Her vague interest in getting off had suddenly and sharply turned to hunger, and Hawke wasn't one to complain.

She let out a frustrated whimper as Sebastian released her, and he still had that broad smirk on his face.

"Turn," he instructed, indicating the bedpost, and though confused, Hawke did as she was told. As she faced away, he reached around to guide her hands to rest on the polished surface, his free arm hooking under her hips and pulling them back towards him slightly.

Ah, Hawke realized, a sharp thrum of warmth shooting southward as she realized the position she was in - bent over enough to allow him access, hands neatly out of the way. She silently thanked her past self for insisting on the massive four-poster bed as she felt Sebastian's fingers loosening the belted sash about her hips and letting it crumple to the floor. With a few deft tugs, her leggings – smalls and all – were down to her lower thighs, exposing her backside to the air.

She could hear him draw in a long, slow breath as he ran his warm palms over her skin, and she bit down a smirk. He always did like her ass.

His hands left her, and it wasn't more than a moment before she heard the clinking of glass. Her grip on the post tightened. Please, she prayed. Please let that be what I think it is.

One hand, dry and feather-light, ran up her left side. Her breath hitched when it came to rest at the junction of her thighs, nudging them apart. She obliged, and was rewarded with an appreciative squeeze. His thumb pressed gently-yet-firmly into the soft flesh at the meeting of ass and thigh, pulling it enough to the side enough to reveal the lower start of her outer lips.

From his free hand, a single oiled fingertip followed to start exploring her folds, and she shivered. And waited.

As he worked his way forward, heat blossomed in his wake, little flashes of a pleasant burn eliciting a low moan from Hawke. Her back instinctively arched, angling her hips higher. The hand that had been holding her in place moved upward, catching on her waist.

"Maker," Sebastian chuckled, accent thickening as it always did at times like these. "I've only just started."

"I don't think you understand how much I needed this today," Hawke muttered, gasping as his finger slid just beside her opening.

"The crown commands me to a life of service," he replied. "And I perform this one gladly."

She snickered despite herself, the throb between her legs almost painful. "The crown commands you to fuck me?"

"Who said that that was my intention?"

He found her clit, drawing slow, lazy circles along the underside. Shuddering, Hawke hung her head. It was taking all of her self-control not to buck against him, desperate for more friction, more pressure, more something. As if on cue, a second finger joined the first, fresh coat of warming oil reigniting the faded sparks.

Hawke mewled, clinging to the bedpost as her knees weakened. The broad, flat surface of two fingertips was fucking lovely. He knew her well enough to be aware that he wasn't giving nearly enough pressure to actually get off on, instead trailing warm, affectionate strokes that were very enjoyable but tested her patience.

She felt him shift behind her, the warmth of his mouth settling on her neck as he kissed the skin just above her shoulder. She murmured her approval, about to lift a hand to seek out his hair -

- when she felt one well-oiled finger, then a second, slide into her.

With a few expletives, her grip on the bedpost tightened, arms suffering a quick shiver. He had such wonderful, well-trained fingers, something she knew was sacrilege to thank the Maker for but damned if she could help herself. His teeth grazed her skin, coaxing a whimper out of her as his hand kept a maddeningly slow pace.

Hawke wasn't sure when it was that the archer had developed the particular skill of taking her from a candle flame to inferno in half a second flat, but it continued to catch her off-guard. Taking in as deep a breath as she could, she began to roll her hips in circles, fullness of her backside pressing into the heel of his palm. He let her, if only for a moment; the hand at her waist soon held her firm and she choked back a sob.

Sebastian's lips left her throat, and she could feel the brush of his nose along the shell of her ear before his mouth followed. He nipped lightly, and Hawke let out a low groan when the hand fucking her began to speed up.

"Do you want to come, mo ghraidh?"

"Yes," she managed.

"I want you to do something for me." The hand at her waist slid up, stopping to graze one breast affectionately as it traveled toward her shoulder. He gently pried one hand free from its death-grip on the post, guiding it to settle at the apex of her thighs.

"Touch yourself," he murmured between thrusts. "Like you do when you are alone at night."

Fucking hell. So that's where he'd been going with this. Not that she was going to object – it was the fastest way to get her to come, and with the best results – but she got the feeling that this was just going to be the first of many such encounters, if the thought got him so riled up.

Borrowing from the oil left by his clever fingers, Hawke wasted no time in adjusting her hips and setting her hand to work. Her fingers were a little slow at first, gaining their bearings in her position and finding just the right spot below her hood to start her usual pattern. As soon as she sank into the familiar movements and rhythm, however, her muscle memory took over and everything else surrendered.

She pressed the length of her fingers into the cleft at the start of her lips, spreading the pressure and allowing for her fingers to curl naturally into quick, jerky circles against her clit. She was instinctively a little rough with herself – she loved speed and friction, and Sebastian was doing a bang-up job of keeping up his end of things.

Her muscles fluttered and tightened, stomach and thighs taut as she could feel her orgasm building. Smart lover that he was, the prince picked up on it immediately and sped up just enough to where he knew she liked it, changing the angle of his thrusts and curving his fingertips ever so slightly. And bless him, he kept it that way, not changing a damn thing about that perfection as she focused on reaching her peak. Pre-climax warmth flooded her body, and she caught her breath in anticipation.

It wasn't more than a moment or two before she hit her orgasm, riding it out with blissful thoughtlessness as her hand and husband did all of the work. And damn was it a good one, digging her toes into the rug and wrenching a whine from her chest.

Sebastian coaxed her down from it as it ebbed, timing the movements of his hand with the spasms of her inner muscles and murmuring endearments against her hair. Smiling, Hawke presented her face for a kiss – she received one – and gradually straightened as he withdrew.

"You," she accused, "are a pain in my ass, you know that?"

There was a glint in his eye as he watched her pull up her leggings. "Am I?"

"This was going to be simple. Get in, get off, get back out. But then you and your sudden interest in - "

"It wasn't done properly," he pointed out. "I should very much like to see you pleasure yourself without my assistance."

"That so?" She smirked, tugging at the waist of his pants, which were deliciously tight around a very promising hard-on. "So you'd have no objection if I asked the same of you?"

His neck flushed up to his cheeks, as though the thought hadn't even occurred to him. Grinning, she came closer, reaching around him for the bottle of oil and pressing it into his palm.

"You know," she murmured, "you have a point. I think I would really enjoy watching you alone."

A nervous chuckle made its way up from his chest. "Perhaps I should make a show of it, then."

"You should. You definitely should." She pressed the flat of her palm against his erection, and he moaned. "No time like the present."

He smiled against her mouth, leaving a warm kiss as he spoke. "I... just give me a moment to -"

"Your Highness?"

A young woman's voice from beyond the door broke the tension, and Hawke bit back some colorful curses.

"Yes," she called. "What is it?"

There was a moment of hesitation. "Lady MacLendon has been asking after you for the better part of two hours," the handmaid pleaded. "She grows increasingly impatient."

Meaning, 'please come save us,' Hawke sighed. "Tell her to wait in my tea room," she instructed, "and I'll join her shortly."

"Understood, your Highness."

As the girl scurried off, Hawke set about making herself presentable again. "You've been saved."

"So it seems."

"For now." Tapping him playfully on the chest, she smirked up at him. "Don't think for a second that this is over."

The prince laughed, handing her the rest of her discarded clothing.

"Glad to hear it."