A/N: Couldn't sleep because this little story was racing around my head.
It's very smutty and rated M for a reason, with that being said,
Enjoy ;) and if you like it leave a review!
I'm not religious. Don't give me that look! Really, I'm not. Look, it's kind of hard to pray to a Maker who curses your very existence. I never could get behind the whole 'ripping mage children from their mothers skirts and locking them away in a tower for the rest of their lives' thing either.
There's also the constant preaching, they go on and on and on about Andraste and what we're supposed to do and not do. Maker it's so boring! How can people live like that? It just isn't any fun, like at all. I've never been one to follow rules. I'm an apostate playing the noble, and sure, I go to their dinners and fancy balls, but if I don't like something or someone I'll say so. My mother nearly had a heart attack when I threw my glass of very bubbly champagne at Rachel (Pronounced Ray-SHell, because nobles just have to be unique don't they? News flash! You're all the same!) after she insulted mages. She totally deserved it!
So no, I'm really not good at following rules or even social norms. I spend my evenings in the Hanged Man with my dirty boots leant on the table, with a tankard of ale in my hand, belching and snorting with my fellows like a perfect little lady. What can I say? Some rules are just meant to be broken. What rules you say? Well, several, how about kissing the same-sex? Who doesn't love a bit of girl-on-girl or guy-on-guy occasionally? Lesbians and gays never get struck by lightning, so I guess the Maker enjoys it too.
Anyway, even if I was religious, which I'm not, I would never have waltzed into a Chantry, at least not before Kirkwall (now we seem to be there every other night killing bad guys, I almost feel sorry for the brothers that have to clear up all the blood stains). Knowing my luck the Templars would have smelled the magic in my blood and I'd have been shipped off to the Circle, with my family none the wiser. No, I'm not religious at all. So, why am I sat in the Chantry, during morning prayers, with all these religious nut jobs as they lower their heads and mumble the Chant of Light?
Well there's really a very simple answer to what is actually quite a complex situation. Of course you lazy folks out there will want the 'too long; didn't read version' right? Well your answer to that is standing at the front of the Chantry right now giving a sermon.
The long drawn out version? Goes something like this...
The thwang of his arrow hitting the Chanter's board sent a shiver right down my spine. Staring at the man himself had made me shudder with want as my body tingled in all the right places. Naturally, I was curious, so I killed the men responsible for his family's murders (oh how I love a tragic back story!) and then I met him, right over there at the back of the Chantry.
I have tried many times to adequately describe the man who is Sebastian Vael, Prince of Starkhaven, but words really don't do him justice. I shall try though, I am staring at him right now after all.
Let's see, where to begin?
Well, the first thing I'm drawn to when I look at him are his eyes. How can I not be? How can anyone not be. They are expertly placed, not too far apart and not too close together. They're just the right size to get your attention and draw you in. But it is the colour I find myself lost in; drowning in. The blue is of a vibrancy that even the summer's sky can never hope to match. And the shine is brighter than any lake or pond or pool I've ever seen. Even the shyest most self-conscious person cannot help but stare into those mesmerizing pools of blue. His eyes can make you feel important with just a glance in your direction. They bear into your soul, and with just a flicker of his lashes all of your darkest secrets are revealed. His eyes undress you with just a look, as your body burns under his gaze.
Ugh, and that's just the man's eyes!
Perhaps the vibrancy of the blue is amplified by his tan, not too dark, perfectly sun-kissed skin? I don't know, I just know I want to touch it, to lick it, to taste how sweet it is. I want to know if he has that perfect tan everywhere. I want to feel how soft his skin is when I run my hand down the side of his face, how perfectly hard his washer-board abs are as my knuckles slide up and down them. I want to feel his calloused fingers scratch across my body and pinch my nipples, making me cry out before travelling lower. I want to run my hands up his entire body, feeling every single muscle, touching every hair.
Mmmmm, his hair! That gorgeous mane of chestnut-brown that falls in soft waves just above his shoulders. I've had to stop myself on more than one occasion before I accidentally reached up and ran a hand through those silky locks. I want to hear him moan as I tug on them, drawing him closer to my lips...
Oh Maker, how could I forget about his voice?
Have you ever had melted chocolate poured onto your body? No? Just me then, well that's what his voice is like. When the melted chocolate hits your body it's hot, almost scolding, you cry out and your entire body burns with desire. When Sebastian opens his mouth the affect is very similar. I find my lips parting, a gasp whispering past them, as he rumbles out my name and the heat between my legs ignites like a fire.
Then the chocolate starts to flow over me, it's still hot, but less so now, I arch my back at the sensation begging for more. Conversations with this Prince have a similar affect, as his voice crashes over me, the velvety smoothness flowing all the way down to by dripping wet cunt leaving me trembling for more.
Then the chocolate stops, hardens and a shiver runs down my spine. I go rigid, my hands clawing at the sheets for more friction. That's how I feel when a conversation with this man comes to an end. I am left desperate for more; pleading to hear words pour out of his perfectly bow-shaped lips. Begging to see his chiselled jaw move with his voice. Hoping to see that blinding smile, I am occasionally witness to, just once more.
He is perfection, or as close to it as I can picture. And I have spent many hours picturing it. I have known him for years now, but I am still no closer to being with him. But perhaps you prefer Brother Sebastian?
The kind and sweet brother who helps the needy; giving to the poor and praying with the sick. He is still talking at the front, his long, lean, hands moving wildly as he strides up and down, praising the Maker. I won't lie I'm not really listening to his words, I'm just letting his voice roll over me as my heart thrums in my chest, and my want grows between my legs. Could I cum just from his voice? I honestly think I could. But I am not a fan of him as Brother anything.
As a brother I cannot have him, I cannot touch him or be with him because of those blasted vows of celibacy. Despite my rebellious nature, I'd obey ever single rule in Thedas if I got to spend one night with Sebastian. Not Brother Sebastian or even Prince Sebastian, just Sebastian. I know he was once that man, the adventurous youth. He has teased me with those words, tempted me. And I am at my whits end. I cannot go another day, another night. My desire for him has overwhelmed me, turning into a pulsing obsession, that has snaked its way through every inch of my body. But in my heart I know it is more, my heart misses a beat when I first see him and aches for him when he leaves.
For all my shameless flirting, I have only made him blush (that only made my arousal stronger, as I pictured him blushing at the sight of me lying on my back, legs open wide for him). He will not break his vow willingly, or if he will, I do not have the patience to wait. I realise I cannot have him without a little persuasion. And therefore find myself stooping to using a not-quite-legal means to do so.
I wouldn't call it forbidden magic, just not well-known...
