Another fill! I'm really starting to like these (big grin). I've always had a bit of a thing for Seneschal Bran, so when I saw this unfilled prompt, I just had to do something about it.
Prompt as follows:
When Mother Hawke asks for her estate, she has no success as Bran advises the viscount that selling the estate to a rich and influential man from Starkhaven would be much better than giving it to some Fereldan refugees. Seeing her mother breaking more every day over the loss of both one of her children and her childhood home, Marian decides to do something about it. She just needs a good way to convince Bran that she would be very, very grateful if the viscount sold the estate to her...
Bonus points if Bran becomes rather obsessed with her after that.
Hawke glanced up to her left as she entered the Viscount's Keep. Seneschal Bran was keeping a close watch on her from his position on the upper level, having noted her entrance. Smiling to herself, Hawke walked quickly up the stairs to reach him.
"Seneschal Bran," she greeted in a sugary sweet voice.
"Hawke," he replied, eyeing her with distrust. "I wondered when I would see you."
"Let's talk in private," she said, sweeping past him and heading for his office.
Bran huffed an annoyed sigh as he followed her. "Make it quick, would you?" he said as he shut his office door behind him. "I have a lot of business to attend to."
"Really? It looked to me as if you were just standing there," Hawke replied lightly. She settled herself on the edge of his desk, watching Bran narrow his eyes at her.
"I suppose you are here to bribe me for an audience with the Viscount?"
"Now why would I wish to speak to the Viscount? It wasn't his idea to refuse my mother to buy the Amell house." Hawke casually smoothed the skirt of her dress across her thighs, pleased to see that Bran was looking uncomfortable. "I know it was the little birdy in his ear that convinced him we weren't the right buyers."
"Even you have to admit, Hawke, that a wealthy Starkhaven man living in Hightown would be better for Kirkwall than a pack of Fereldan dogs."
Hawke laughed. "I hardly believe my mother and I constitute a pack."
"The nobles would not take kindly to a circus of Fereldans strutting up and down Hightown," Bran continued, ignoring her comment.
"How many friends do you think I have?" Hawke asked curiously. "I don't think I even know enough people to make up a circus."
"This man from Starkhaven could bring things to Kirkwall you couldn't even imagine."
"Do you not realize that I'm friends with the Prince of Starkhaven?"
"Who seems much more interested in being devoted to the Maker than to his country," Bran added. "I doubt he'll be Prince of Starkhaven for long."
"Cut the orgeshit, Bran," Hawke interrupted angrily. "We both know you told the Viscount not to sell me the house because you don't want to have to live next door to me."
Bran at least had the sense to look affronted. "That you would think so lowly of me-"
"Bran," Hawke said over him, warning in her voice. "I would appreciate it if you were honest with me. I just came here to talk."
"You want to change my mind," Bran accused.
"Of course I do! That house rightfully belongs to my family; you have no right to take it away from us."
The Seneschal stared at her for a long moment. "Well, let's hear it then," he finally sighed, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the wall. "How do you expect to change my mind?"
"I was hoping I could show you how beneficial it would be to have me living in Hightown."
"What could you possibly bring to Kirkwall-"
"Not for Kirkwall," Hawke cut in. "For you."
That shut Bran up in a hurry. He opened and closed his mouth a few times as if trying to think of something to say.
Hawke stood up from the desk and slowly made her way over to him. "I know you've been lonely since your wife died a few years back. The girls at the Blooming Rose have plenty to say about you." Hawke danced her fingers along Bran's arm. "But you haven't been able to get to the brothel in quite awhile, have you? Things have been busy around here, haven't they? Besides, what would Kirkwall think if they discovered their Seneschal at the Rose?"
Bran broke away from the wall to quickly cross the room. He stood behind his desk, shielding himself from Hawke. "What exactly did you come here for, Hawke?" he asked.
"A favor."
"A favor?" he repeated.
Hawke nodded. "Yes, I'll do something for you, if you agree to sell me the Amell house."
"It would have to be a pretty big favor," he scoffed.
"I'm hoping it's a huge favor," she said sweetly, flicking her gaze towards his crotch.
Bran shifted uncomfortably. "I'm old enough to be your father," he hissed.
"That just means you have a wealth of experience," Hawke replied. "I'm not afraid of an older man, especially one who has such a good record with the Rose's whores. They speak quite highly of you, you know. I find myself . . . curious."
"Be curious all you wish, but I will not allow you to bribe me."
"It's not a bribe, it's a-"
"A favor. Yes, I know." His gaze quickly flicked over her body.
Hawke noticed he seemed quite aroused at the idea of her. She had noticed his fascination with her before, though he took great pains to hide it. It wouldn't do for him to lust after a Fereldan.
With an air of casualness about her, Hawke watched him sit heavily in his chair, his eyes upon her. She stalked her way across the room, inserting herself between Bran and his desk. Lifting up the bottom of her dress, Hawke gingerly placed herself on top of his desk, bringing her legs up onto his lap.
He looked down at her smooth legs, left exposed when she had picked up her skirt. His hands gripped the armrests of his chair tightly.
"I remember the first time I strolled into the keep," Hawke reminisced. "I was wearing skirted armor and you could not tear your eyes away from my thighs." She slowly brought her left leg up and caressed his arm with her calf. He watched her leg, hunger in his eyes.
Hawke's hands went to the laces on her dress, making quick work of them. She had felt so strange leaving the house without her armor or weapons, but she had chosen her outfit with seduction in mind. Her dress wasn't all that fashionable, but it was easy to get out of, and that's what mattered for this meeting.
With a little wiggle, Hawke pulled her dress from under her butt so she could slip it off over her head. She tossed the garment to the side, then kicked off her slippers, letting them fall to the floor. Placing her bare feet on the Seneschal's lap, she lightly massaged his thighs, noting how his eyes were fixed upon her chest.
"I also remember all the times I came in here and had to talk to you. Your eyes would always end up on my breasts, however clothed in armor they were."
"I was trying to picture what they would look like naked," Bran replied smoothly.
"Then I shan't keep you wondering any longer," Hawke answered, slipping off her breast binding.
Bran let out a delighted moan and tried to reach for her, but Hawke kicked him back into the chair. "You haven't agreed to my terms yet," she said, keeping him seated with her strong legs upon his chest.
"Why should I want you to live in Hightown?" Bran asked.
"Think of how close I would be to you. Think of how easy it would be for you to come see me whenever you got the urge. No more long treks to the Rose and worrying someone will see you. Just pop over next door, have your way with me, and then off you go."
"It does sound awfully tempting," he mused. "But how do I know it would be worth it? Perhaps you're terrible in bed."
"I assure you, I'm not." Hawke cupped her breasts in her hands, watching the Seneschal watch her. "Anyway, that's what today is for. I'm giving you a little taste of the pleasures you could enjoy at any time. You just have to agree to sell me the house."
Hawke lightly pinched her nipples, squirming with pleasure on his desk. While one hand continued to caress her breast, the other roamed down her body, dipping beneath her smallclothes. She coated her finger with the wetness she found there, using the slippery digit to rub circles on her clitoris. As she moaned in satisfaction, the Seneschal shifted beneath her feet.
Giving Bran a wicked smile, Hawke quickly slipped off her smalls, opening her legs as wide as she could while still keeping him trapped in his chair. She resumed her play, his watchful eyes turning her on.
After one particularly lustful moan escaped her mouth, Bran shoved her legs away from his chest. He fell to his knees before her, knocking her hands out of the way, and attacking her with his mouth. His warm hands gripped her hips as his tongue speared her. Hawke cried out as he licked all the way up to her button, mimicking the movements her finger had made on the bundle of nerves. While he sucked on her clit, one of his hands left her hip. He plunged a finger inside of her, quickly adding a second at her reaction.
Hawke couldn't control her squirming. The things Bran was doing to her were overwhelming. As he lightly scraped his teeth against her, Hawke bucked her hips against his mouth, pleasure zooming through her whole body. She felt as though she were on fire, hot flames of desire roaming across her.
Bran brought her up and up until she nearly burst, pulling away at the last second.
Hawke sat there on his desk, breathing heavily, seconds away from orgasm. "What are you doing?" she gasped out. "Come up here and fuck me."
Bran stood, fumbling with the tie on his pants while Hawke ripped off his tunic. She scooted closer to the edge of the desk, anxious to have him fill her. As the Seneschal dropped his pants, Hawke took a moment to look him over. Long and thick (the whores had been accurate about his package), his cock jutted out from between his legs. The base was nestled in a patch of hair a shade darker than what lay on top of his head. Raising her gaze up some, she noted he was well defined for essentially having a desk job.
Winding one hand into the light dusting of fur on his chest, Hawke placed her other hand on the back of his neck and brought him to her. She crushed his mouth to hers, running her tongue along his bottom lip until he granted her access. Hawke tasted him greedily, giving him little nibbles as he massaged her breasts in his hands.
Still stroking his chest, Hawke moved her other hand from his neck so she could grab onto his cock. Bran thrust his hips as she wrapped her fingers around him.
Hawke had only given him a few quick strokes before Bran growled and pulled her roughly off the desk. She had barely landed on her feet before Bran twirled her around, a hand on her neck forcing her to bend over the desk. He shoved her legs apart with his foot, rubbing his cock against her lower lips.
With a deep grunt, the Seneschal shoved inside of her. Hawke cried out as he hit that special place inside her, her arms wildly grabbing the edge of the desk in front of her. The hand on the back of her neck twisted into her long hair, forcing her to arch up as Bran pounded away.
Bran's other hand gripped her breast, kneading it between his fingers. The heavy desk was moving slightly back and forth as Bran thrust into her. Hawke called out his name in ecstasy, forgetting for a moment that the guards outside the office could probably hear her.
He was furious in his lovemaking; he seemingly couldn't get enough of her. His hand left her breast to find her clit, rubbing it as he stroked her with his cock.
Hawke nearly went blind from pleasure. The man sure knew how to make love to a woman. How in the world was she ever going to be able to visit Aveline again without thinking of this moment?
A knock sounded at the door.
Hawke cursed softly. They hadn't locked the door.
Bran didn't seem to care, continuing to move inside her, though less frantically.
"Seneschal?" called a voice.
"I'm in a meeting!" he called angrily, pressing his thumb to her nub. Hawke let out a strangled gurgle as her muscles tensed for her impending climax.
"We, uh . . . we heard a strange cry and just wanted to make sure everything was all right," the guard called.
"It's fine," Bran replied. "Do not interrupt me again."
"Yes, messere."
Before Bran could thrust up into her another time, Hawke squirmed out of his grasp. Turning, she pushed him backwards, tripping him. Bran fell onto the floor with a heavy thud, but before he could complain, Hawke jumped on him, impaling herself with a pleased sigh. She moved her hips rhythmically, grinding into him. Bran groaned at the exquisite torture.
It wasn't long before Hawke was breaking apart in his arms, the contractions of her inner muscles spelling doom for the Seneschal. Breathing heavily, Hawke grinned down at Bran. "So?"
Bran reached up and pulled her down for a heated kiss. "I'll talk to the Viscount," he promised.
Hawke stood up on shaky legs and began pulling on her clothes. Bran stayed on the floor, a satisfied smile on his attractive face.
"Thank you, Bran," Hawke whispered, quietly exiting his office. The guards stationed outside gave her suspicious looks but Hawke skipped happily past them.
Three days later, Hawke and her mother were moving into the Amell house. The Viscount had contacted Leandra the day after Hawke's romp with the Seneschal. The two women had wasted no time in handing over the required gold and signing the ownership papers.
After all of their things had been moved to the new house (a job that hadn't taken long at all), Leandra decided to talk a walk about Hightown, to reacquaint herself with the area.
Minutes after her mother left, a knock sounded on the door. Hawke happily skipped across the hall and opened it to see Seneschal Bran standing there. "Hi," she said in surprise.
"Serah Hawke," he replied, his eyes roving her body.
She heated up as his gaze consumed her.
"I wanted to see if you were settling in all right," he continued.
"Oh, yes, fine. Thank you."
He nodded, then pushed past her into the house.
Hawke snickered and closed the door, locking it this time. "Come to snoop?" she asked.
"A favor for a favor," he said. "I convinced the Viscount to sell you the house."
"And now you've got an itch that needs to be scratched?"
"I imagine I'll have an itch, as you put it, nearly every day. You should make a schedule."
Hawke chuckled in delight. "As you wish, messere.