AN: Shameboners and Sebastian are like peanut butter & jelly, they just go together. I started working on this piece and well, the prompt came along and that is all she (or me) wrote. Hello prompt I could not resist.
Prompt: You know what meme needs more of? Sebastian getting acquainted with his shameful, shameful lust for Hawke (...and possibly the other party members. All night long.). Let him show the Chantry a little self-lovin, just as long as he's busy telling himself what a terrible person he is while he does it.
Isabela's lack of pants was disturbing.
Sebastian hinted that perhaps he take her to a tailor or dressmaker. But the woman declined and teased, "If you want to see me undressed, Sebastian, you just need to ask."
Visions of tanned and freckled breasts, firm and powerful thighs, the soft pout of Isabela's lips as she smiled speckled his vision. He imagined what it would feel like to sink inside her quaking seas, to ride that ship to port and he was nearly undone. A blush rose upon his cheeks and the first stirrings of want twitched against his thigh. A serpent's temptation darted against his skin, smothering him with shame.
Excuses were made; lies spoken urgently from an all together too dry tongue. He needed to be away from her. He needed to be away from them before they noticed, before Andraste herself began to nod as his erection grew.
He sped along the streets of Kirkwall on his way to the Chantry. Surely within the safety of the Chantry, he would be able to pray his disgrace away, to will his body through the power of his faith to still and seek the path of the righteous and pious rather than that of the lustful sinner. He made eye contact with no one on his way, too penitent, too worried they would see reflected within the bright blue of his eyes the humiliating firmness between his thighs.
A sister tried to speak to him, to offer him greeting as he returned home. He ignored her, rushing toward his small room and slamming the door behind him. His body grew slack as he leaned against the door, breathing heavy and labored from his retreat.
His armor felt too constrictive and was tossed aside piece by piece as he made his way toward the vanity. Cool water was poured into a basin, fingers sinking into the water only to splash it upon his face. The chill of the water did not work as the tonic he sought, however. The coolness upon his skin only made him more painful aware of the fire between his legs.
He was better than this. He was a faithful follower of the Chant. He did not succumb to such base wants.
And yet…
He could not still the movement of his hand as it sunk into waistband of his pants. He could not still the movement of his hand as it nudged both pants and small clothes down his thighs. He could not stop the movement of his fingers as the wrapped, at first, tentatively around his cock. Heat against heat.
Sebastian caught his reflection within the mirror of the vanity. Tears cornered his eyes at the display, at the debauched manner in which he began to pump his now throbbing member. He knew he should stop, that he must stop, but he found himself unable too.
Tears fell, streaking his cheeks and shirt, some even falling upon his hand as he worked himself to frenzy. The moisture felt too good, slicking his rock hard cock and fingers only making his jerking all the easier, all the more an exercise in the exquisitely shameful.
He thought he might choke upon his raspy cries as he felt himself pushed to the edge, as he felt the tangled knots of his orgasm begin to unwind. A hand shot out, clutching at the vanity for balance as he came, seed spilling upon his hand, floor and thighs. His head hung low, eyes looking anywhere but at the evidence of his immorality and abasement that coated him.